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Looks like How Draco Won Spin the Bottle is still alive and thriving!! I love these other fics as well 😁🤭

Hi Liv! Not sure if you do recs anymore but I read the funniest Drunk!Draco fic last night called How Draco Won Spin the Bottle (and Outed Himself in the Process) by written in ash (?) I think.

Do you have any other drunk!draco fics? I may have developed a new obsession

Haha I love this ask! Drunk Drarry is always fun, here are some favourites:

Tastes Like Soap by InnerLilith (E, 4.6k)

Harry goes to the foam party hoping to finally have casual sex. Draco goes to the foam party expecting yet another night of casual sex. Harry and Draco do not have casual sex.

Born Slippy by dracoladon (E, 8k)

Harry finds that it's less 'one tequila, two tequila, three tequila, floor' and more 'one tequila, two tequila, three tequila, decide Malfoy's quite fit, actually, and decent company after your friends traitorous abandonment, floor.' With Malfoy lying next to you.

Ferocious Determination, Insufficient Deliberation, and a Slightly Wrong Destination by Faith Wood (E, 9.5k)

All Draco wants is sleep, but his bed won't stop talking. More importantly, it refuses to stop looking like Harry Potter.

Tales of Apparation Gone Awry by @thecouchsofa (E, 12k)

These are the things Draco has recently learned:

1: Don’t apparate while drunk or you’ll end up in Potter’s living room without fail. 1a: This is a Big Problem. 2: Draco is unable to keep his mouth shut while drunk. 3: Pansy is a shite friend. 4: Potter has nice thighs. 5: Draco maybe possibly doesn’t mind his apparation problem as much as he lets on. 5a: Potter doesn’t seem to mind much either

One Night at the Leaky by birdsofshore (T, 12k)

Harry should have known better than to accept a drunken dare. Especially when Malfoy was sitting right there, looking like that and wearing those bloody tight trousers.

Party of Two by fireflavored (E, 13k)

Drinking, sex, and a total misreading of the concept of fuck buddies.

Mixed Drinks and Crossed Wires by @korlaena (E, 16k)

Draco is a handsy drunk. Harry is okay with it, really. They’re friends, so it doesn’t mean anything.

Vanilla and Sweet Spices by FleetofShippyShips (E, 20k)

After the others leave an eighth year party, Harry still has the rum he snagged off Dean. But the only person left to drink it with is Draco Malfoy.

Take You Home by @lqtraintracks (E, 26k)

Everybody’s a little fucked up after the war, Draco especially. What starts as hate sex after a night out, eventually turns into something else, something more like comfort. And even though his friends all tell Harry he’s just being used, all Harry’s doing is making sure Draco gets home in one piece. He’s not falling helplessly in love.

Starts With a Spin by Maxine (E, 120k)

It started with the spin of a bottle, and now Harry and Draco have gotten themselves so far into their own game there's almost no way out again. Except to keep playing.

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just another day at hogwarts

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Prompt : " Thank You "

Inebriated Confessions

"You look fucking exquisite, Draco," Harry slurs, eyes half-lidded.

"Why, thank you." Draco leans against the door frame and smirks at Harry, who is inelegantly draped across the bright white sheets of the St Mungos hospital bed. His shift had just ended when he got word that his idiot boyfriend had gotten Cursed during a raid. Again.

"I'm serious, Draco," Harry says, face drawn in a solemn expression as he beckons Draco over. "You look like— like if the sun and the moon had a child." Sudden tears slowly start to fill Harry's eyes as he whispers, "and that child was you."

Draco stifles a laugh and risks a glance at the Medi-witch, who is quietly examining Harry's medical chart. "Pain potions?" he asks her.

She nods, the side of her mouth curled in amusement.

"Honest, Draco," Harry says with sudden vigor, drawing attention back to himself. He's always been a self-absorbed prat, Draco thinks.

Harry takes Draco's hands and looks at him with such intent earnestness that he can feel himself blush. Harry's eyes are unfocused and hazy, but the vibrant green stands out against his brown skin when they are not obstructed by his glasses. "Thank you for allowing us to be in your presence. You're just — just so amazing, Draco. Thank you."

Draco smooths a hand over Harry's sweaty forehead, moving the unruly curls from his face. He smiles and says, "You're certainly one of a kind, Harry Potter." Harry leans into the touch and closes his eyes in contentment.

Just as Draco thinks he has fallen asleep, Harry mumbles a quiet, almost inaudible "I love you" and shifts into a more comfortable position.

Draco stills, all thoughts suddenly leaving his mind. They have never said that to each other before, yet this revelation is not a surprise. Not by a long shot. Draco knows how he feels, but the weight of these pesky three words hangs heavily in the air around him. He feels unprepared and off-kilter.

But gazing down on Harry drooling on his pillow in such an unclothe fashion, he knows that he'll say it when the time is right. Most likely when Harry isn't high off his arse on prescribed pain potions.

And he does.

Hello, nonnie! Thank you so much for the prompt! I decided on something a bit fluffy and domestic for this one. Hope you like it

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Time Thief

TW: Hurt Harry and Scorpius

The tip of Draco’s wand glows a pulsing green in his trembling hand, the telltale sign of a ward breach.

When Scorpius was born, Harry decided to quit the Aurors and become a stay-at-home father, but that never kept Draco from worrying about his husband and little boy back at home. Draco, an Auror himself, had set the wards around their house, each spell threaded with careful and loving intent.

Apparating to their little cottage by the sea, Draco can see that the wards have splintered and are shattered into non-existence. The door of their home is left slightly ajar, and the lack of light from inside is concerning. Draco can hear his heartbeat in the silence of the house as the door creaks open.

“Scorpius?” Draco calls, wand raised. “Harry?”

Harry lies on the floor of Scorpius’s bedroom, his once vibrant eyes dim and fading. Scorpius sits by his Papa’s side, tiny hands clutching the material of Harry’s ruined robes. His glasses’ lenses are broken and thrown to the side as if they were a forgotten memory.

Scorpius’ head snaps up when Draco enters the room, and Draco’s breath leaves his lungs in a shaky exhale. Happiness was always meant to be ephemeral.

Scorpius dons a lightning bolt scar that stands stark against his pallid skin.

“He’s back,” Harry says, mouth quivering and breaths labored. “Voldemort is back.”

Harry’s scar is gone.

Where Lyssa takes canon and fucks with it :)

Written for @drarrymicrofic prompt: ephemera

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during the battle (in DH 2)

neville: It doesn't matter that Harry's gone.

harry: wow what the actual fuck neville

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YALL! My fic (How Draco Won Spin the Bottle (and Outed Himself in the Process) just hit 400 kudos and 3.3k hits! IM JUST— wow!

I know I haven’t responded to some comments but I’ve read every single one of them <3

Thank you guys sm! ILY!

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a crooked love in a straight line down

This is for my sweetest friend @written-in-ash. Lyssa I love you so much and I'm incredibly proud of you. Here's to celebrating you, my lovely fandom little sister. Here's some angst, just for you.

Based on the song "I Wish You Would" by Taylor Swift.

CW: break up/make up, angst with a happy ending.

Harry's gotten very good at existing.

He gets up and goes to work each day. He smiles at his co-workers, laughs with Ron and Hermione over lunch at the Ministry cafeteria, and turns in his paperwork on time.

He leaves the office each day and floos home, where there's little to distract him from the heartbreak on the periphery of his attention. He's gotten good at blocking it out during the day; Harry's a master at suppressing his emotions when there's a job to do or someone to hide from, but when he's alone, there's nothing to stop the anguish from washing over him, hot tears running down his cheeks.

It's his own fault, too. He's kept the flat largely the same since Draco left, off to an exciting new potions research position in Canada. Harry tells himself it's because he hasn't had the time to get rid of it all; he's been busy, after all, and it's only been six weeks.

But that doesn't explain why he keeps buying Draco's favorite tea. Why he sleeps in the pajamas Draco bought for him. Why he hasn't thrown out Draco's hair brush or even moved it from its spot on the counter.

He should wipe the flat clear of anything that reminds him of Draco and find someone new. He should stop avoiding pub nights with his friends in favor of wallowing in his flat.

Maybe then he'll finally stop missing Draco with a bone-deep ache that leaves him breathless. Maybe he'll stop being so pathetic, crying and curled up on the sofa like he is now, wearing a t-shirt Draco left behind. Maybe he'll finally move on like Draco surely has with some fit Canadian man who speaks French and probably has a mustache.

Not that Harry's thought about it.

There's a knock at the door. Harry groans to himself, wondering why the world is interrupting his scheduled wallowing time. He turns over onto his stomach, grabbing a pillow and holding it over his head. The knocking turns more insistent, so with a grunt, he forces himself off the couch and over to the door, wiping his cheeks and running a hand through his hair, ready to tell whoever this is to leave him the fuck alone.

He opens the door. "What do you wa—nt?" Harry's voice cracks. "Draco," he breathes. He blinks back the tears already starting to well up again.

Draco looks infuriatingly good, wearing pressed trousers and a button-down shirt with a long trench coat. Harry resents his own joggers and the t-shirt, cheeks heating as he remembers who it belongs to.

"Hi, Harry," Draco says softly. "How are you?"

Harry crosses his arms. "I'm fine," he says, trying to keep his voice even. "What are you doing here?"

Draco bites his lip. "May I come in?"

Harry considers closing the door; he thinks about telling Draco 'no' and shutting him out of his life for good. He thinks about creating his own closure, earning back a scintilla of pride.

He also thinks about stepping aside to let Draco in. He thinks about Draco looking around as he enters, taking in every detail. Harry can see him cataloging every detail, searching for ways it's changed since he left. Harry hates him for it a little, even in his own imagination.

Instead, he says, "Answer my question first. What are you doing here?"

Draco swallows. "I hated Canada."

Harry frowns. "Why?"

Draco runs a hand through his hair, beginning to pace on the small doorway. "I thought that was what I wanted. That's one of the most prestigious potions programs in the bloody world, and they accepted me, and I—I thought I had no choice but to go."

"But you did," Harry says, not caring how bitter he sounds. "You had every choice in the world."

"Yes, I did," Draco mutters. "I did have a choice. I left, and I broke both our hearts in the process. I was an idiot. I could've tried getting over us, but I realized I just don't want to. It took spending six agonizing weeks on the other side of the world to realize that no job, no opportunity," he says the word with disdain, "is worth losing you." He looks at Harry with wide, pleading eyes. "I'm sorry, and I love you," he whispers. "I'm here. I'm home. If you'll have me."

Harry's gripping the doorframe for support, his eyes welling up with tears of relief; a release of anger and hope and love all in one. He doesn't stop one from sliding down his cheek, watching as Draco's own eyes grow teary.

Harry steps back, leaving room for Draco to walk through the threshold. Heart in his throat, he says, "Welcome home."

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She Knows

CW: torture

Getting her alone was the easy part. Harry knew Draco saw the Dark Mark engraved on her arm; the flash of it was so small it would be imperceivable to anyone who wasn’t actively looking. The fear was an act. The tears that clouded Harry’s deep eyes were fake, a delusion of excitement mistaken for terror. Harry knew Draco would follow her. She always did.

Leaning over the sink, Harry dried her eyes and Charmed her makeup back into place, a wicked conspiratorial smile possessing her pink lips. Harry admired herself in the mirror, casting an approving nod at her green tie and messy hair. She loved the way her eyes had become a more foreboding shade of green, a hue more representative of her soul. Her smirk no longer held any trace of joy. Harry could pretend, but Draco knew. Draco knew what she was, who she had become.

Draco silently stepped into the bathroom, and there was a quiet click behind her as the door shut. Draco appeared red-eyed and angry, her jaw tight and throat bobbing.

“What a timely entrance, my love,” Harry said, meeting her eyes in the mirror. Harry didn’t turn around to face her, but she could feel the rampant, yet unknown Dark magic vibrating from Draco’s core. The cursed scar that bisected Draco’s eyebrow glowed vibrant red in the pale moonlight of the bathroom, and it stood out stark against her pallid skin. Her serene grey eyes were sunken but ignited in fury and betrayal as she realized that their months of secret rendezvous were for naught.

“I know,” Draco huffed accusingly. Her eyes were fixed on Harry’s concealed left arm, “about what you did. To Katie, to Ronnie.”

Harry lifted her chin, proudly lifting her sleeve, revealing the dark ink imprinted into her skin. “I know you know,” she said, running a tanned finger down the Mark. Draco flinched and reached for her scar. “But I know, deep down, that you’ve always known, as well.”

“Harry,” Draco said, her long blonde hair swaying by her side. “You don’t know the forces you’re dealing with. That Mark is a death wish, it’s a —”

“It’s a chance. He’s given me a chance —”

“He killed your parents, Harry!” The following silence put Harry on edge; the validity of Draco’s claim caused a deep burn in her heart. “You could come with me! To our side. Dumbledore can keep you safe! I promise you don’t have to be afraid.”

Harry laughed, a free and bright sound contradicting the Darkness she felt within. She took a step forward, extended her hawthorn wand, and pointed it straight at Draco’s chest. “I can’t be what you want from me, Draco.”

Draco took a step back, her gaze unblinkingly focused on Harry. When she spoke, her voice was low, earnest, vulnerable. “Was all of it for nothing? Our stolen kisses, our shared nights? What do you get from this, Harry? From Him?”

“I’m damned if I do,” Harry shrugged, and she took another step forward, her wand resting underneath Draco’s chin, “damned if I don’t. I’ve got myself into this mess. Might as well finish it.”

Crucio tasted like sugar on her tongue, the intoxicating Darkness bursting out of her wand like a drug. Draco’s screams were a lullaby as her pale blonde head hit the floor with a sudden thud.

“The only bad thing about a star is that they burn up, Draco,” Harry said after the spell had ceased and her lover laid on the ground, eyes unfocused. “I learned that from you.”

Okay so I linked the prompt through “I promise you don’t have to be afraid”, but them the rest of it was “She Knows” by J. Cole. Oops. My brain went: (1) Fem Drarry for @softlystarstruck , (2) dark Harry for Luci, (3) now fuck up canon. Idk what happened to this fic, but here it is!

Thank you to my wonderful betas @starlitsilvereyes and @phoebe-delia! Love you both so much!

Written for @drarrymicrofic prompt: Little Do You Know

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Next Year

Next year, Draco and Harry will be in his flat, eating chocolate covered strawberries and letting the tension build between them slowly, daring the other to finally snap and whisk them off to the bedroom.

Next year, Draco won’t steadfastly ignore the pink and white decor covering every inch of Diagon Alley and the Ministry. He won’t decline one of the chocolates being passed around the office. He won’t shoot a silencer at the wireless for playing love songs.

But right now, he doesn’t know any of that.

This year, Draco picks up his favorite meal on the way home from work. He eats it while watching that show on the telly his coworker recommended. He calls Pansy on his new mobile, and they talk for hours; they laugh until they cry and cry until they laugh once more.

This year, Draco falls asleep. Next year, Draco will fall in love.

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Talk Sense to a Fool, and He Calls you Foolish

Read on AO3 Another Greek God AU, woohoo!

“You’re a fool for thinking that the Son of Aphrodite could ever return the affections of the Son of Hades, Harry,” Ron says.

Harry scoffs and crosses his arms as he flicks his eyes from their usual resting position on Draco’s arse to Ron and Hermione, glancing at each other with knowing expressions. 

He hates when they do that. They surprised everyone, including their parents, when they announced their courtship. Athena and Poseidon had to temporarily halt their wage for control of Aktiki, now Athens, in order to process the unlikely news. 

“You have such faith in my prowess for getting what I desire, Ronald,” Harry laughs without humour as he leans back into a pillar of an alcove that conceals his body from the light.

“Oh, Harry!” Hermione interrupts. “Please tell me that you aren’t going to trick him into following you to the Underworld! What your father did to your poor mother was an inferior strategy, not to mention completely immoral.”

“My mother grew to love my father,” Harry replies. “Draco might learn to love me as well.”

Hermione’s scowl as she shifts her spear in her hand is enough to put him back in his place. 

He rolls his eyes and goes back to looking at Draco, only to find him missing from Harry’s line of sight.  

With a sigh, Harry returns to plotting. “Maybe I could—“

“I’m afraid I must agree with the Daughter of Athena, dear Harry,” an angelic voice comes from behind him. 

Draco stands behind them, arms crossed in the most dignified manner. His button nose is held high, and his soft, cropped hair flows gently in the breeze. He looks beautiful yet unattainable. And Harry wants him. Badly.

“I really must object to being kidnapped and tricked, though I doubt it would work. I’m not just pure beauty, you know.”

Harry does know. No one can match Harry in terms of wit and insult better than Draco. 

“That’s unfortunate,” Harry says, the sides of his lips curling in a challenging smile. 

“You can, however,” Draco continues as if Harry hasn’t spoken, “meet me at the Temple of Hera as soon as the sun touches the horizon. Do not be late.”

With that, Draco turns around and walks out of the alcove with ethereal grace. 

Harry smirks and turns toward his friends. “I’m the fool, hm?”

Written for @drarrymicrofic prompt: Fool

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How Draco Won Spin the Bottle (And Outed Himself in the Process) for @shealynn88 NOW WITH ART

Hello everyone! I have decided to include a small piece of art in my fic. Go check it out and you may get to see a wonderfully drunk and jealous Draco!

Read on AO3!

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Small Comforts

Listen. I know this could be better written. But this is one of those I had to get out because my heart is feeling a little sad. So here's this. cw: grief, hurt/comfort

Time had been moving quite normally up until then: Harry and Draco had returned to Harry's flat from their date, laughing and talking. Normally, they'd gone back to Draco's place after their dates, since he lived closer to the city, but this time, Harry gathered the courage to ask, "Do you want to come to mine for a drink?" And his heart fluttered at Draco's wide grin and excited reply, "I'd love to."

Then, fumbling with the keys until they made it inside. Draco looked around, interested and observant, asking the right questions. Harry gave him the grand tour: kitchen, living room, bathroom, and then—

"Is this your bedroom, then?" Draco walked in and considered the space: reasonably tidy, comfortable and not too small. Harry stood in the doorway, giddy at the sight of Draco in his bedroom, finally, when his eyes flickered to his own bed, and his stomach dropped.

Harry heard himself shout "No!" before he launched himself onto the bed, diving on top of the sheets and curling his arms around one of his deepest secrets.

"Harry!" Draco exclaimed. "What happened? Are you alright?"

Harry cringed into his pillow. "I'm fine! Just—don't look, okay?"

He could hear the confusion in Draco's voice. "Look at what?"

"Just—close your eyes a second."

"Okay..."

Harry looked over his shoulder to see Draco complying, with a slight frown. His heart squeezed, realizing how startled and confused Draco must be feeling after his outburst.

Resigned, Harry sighed. "Oh, fine. You can look. I guess this was inevitable."

Draco opened his eyes, gaze flitting across Harry's face and down to the owl plushie in his hands. "Oh," he said. "What's this?" Draco sounded curious—as nonchalant as he'd been when he'd asked about the coffee table or the rug in the living room.

Harry let out a shaky breath. "I know it's a bit pathetic. A grown man sleeping with a stuffie. I didn't used to, you know. I never had one as a kid, but after..." Harry felt his throat tighten in a small surge of grief. "After I lost my owl, it got harder to sleep. And Hermione said it would help me, so..." he trailed off, shrugging and not meeting Draco's eyes.

He felt the bed dip slightly next to him as Draco sat down. A hand came up to gently lift his chin, bringing his gaze to meet Draco's.

"That's alright, Harry," Draco's voice was nearly as soft as his smile. "You've got nothing to be embarrassed about."

Harry huffed a laugh. "Feels pretty pathetic, actually."

"Harry, no," Draco's tone turned firmer, but just as kind. "Plenty of adults sleep with stuffies, and even if they didn't, finding little, easy ways to make your life better is a good thing. I'm glad you've found a way to give yourself some comfort. I never want you to feel ashamed about that, do you understand?"

Harry nodded silently and tucked his head in the crook of Draco's neck.

Later that night, Harry fell asleep in the safety and warmth of Draco's arms, leaving the stuffie perched on the nightstand.

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How Draco Won Spin the Bottle (And Outed Himself in the Process) for @shealynn88 NOW WITH ART

Hello everyone! I have decided to include a small piece of art in my fic. Go check it out and you may get to see a wonderfully drunk and jealous Draco!

Read on AO3!

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How Draco Won Spin the Bottle (And Outed Himself in the Process) for @shealynn88 NOW WITH ART

Hello everyone! I have decided to include a small piece of art in my fic. Go check it out and you may get to see a wonderfully drunk and jealous Draco!

Read on AO3!

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But wait! We’re not done yet… a little extra component will be added tomorrow!

How Draco Won Spin the Bottle (And Outed Himself in the Process) for @shealynn88

Teen | 7k | No Warnings

There is a fleeting moment of silence in the recesses of Draco’s mind where his heart soars. He feels the shackles of centuries worth of expectations waver and fall away. His father’s admonishing voice and his mother’s mutterings of displeasure fade into the haze. For the first time since the start of the war, he feels unburdened.

Or, Draco gets stupidly drunk, Harry's madly in love, and Zacharias Smith needs to keep his radish hands to himself.

Tags: Alcohol, Drinking Games, Drunken Confessions, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Mutual Pining, Secret Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Smitten Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter is So Whipped, Jealous Draco Malfoy, Spin the Bottle, Happy Ending, Draco says stupid a lot when he's drunk, Zacharias Smith throws a tantrum

Read now on AO3!

Much thanks to @crazybutgood and @basicallyahedgehog for all the help!

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I fixed some errors and it should be looking better!

How Draco Won Spin the Bottle (And Outed Himself in the Process) for @shealynn88

Teen | 7k | No Warnings

There is a fleeting moment of silence in the recesses of Draco’s mind where his heart soars. He feels the shackles of centuries worth of expectations waver and fall away. His father’s admonishing voice and his mother’s mutterings of displeasure fade into the haze. For the first time since the start of the war, he feels unburdened.

Or, Draco gets stupidly drunk, Harry's madly in love, and Zacharias Smith needs to keep his radish hands to himself.

Tags: Alcohol, Drinking Games, Drunken Confessions, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Mutual Pining, Secret Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Smitten Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter is So Whipped, Jealous Draco Malfoy, Spin the Bottle, Happy Ending, Draco says stupid a lot when he's drunk, Zacharias Smith throws a tantrum

Read now on AO3!

Much thanks to @crazybutgood and @basicallyahedgehog for all the help!

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Do-Over

For @drarrymicrofic prompt: different. Time travel!

Draco had no idea if it was normal to feel this nauseous after using a Time-Turner. But he was certain that sicking up on the front lawn of the Manor would be a bad idea.

He hasn’t realized how different the place used to look. Mother, bless her, had managed to keep the Manor in relatively strong condition given it was essentially a relic. But the house aged faster during the war, the dark magic putting strain the ancient architecture.

He made it inside, trying not to pause in the foyer at seeing all the old furniture, before it was moved into storage to make room for their unfortunate “guests.” He pressed on, jogging down the familiar corridor and stopping at the double wooden doors.

He took a breath, and knocked.

“Come in, if you must!” Draco braced himself and turned the knob to enter the study.

Father had always seemed so much more imposing when Draco was growing up. Here, he certainly looked younger, and healthier, than his modern counterpart. This Lucius Malfoy hadn’t seen a day in Azkaban; hadn’t considered the possibility of it. He was tall and well-dressed and carried authority. As a child, Draco thought that made his Father godlike. But here, Lucius was merely a man, frozen with terror.

“Wha—”

Draco moved quickly, pointing his wand at his Father, aiming right between wide, shocked eyes.

Draco hesitated, nearly let his wand slip from his fingers, but he gripped it tighter.

He knew it was the only way; to make sure none of Voldemort’s followers would be by his side. To stop the war before it started.

“Obliviate.”