If you follow me on @thehumming6ird you’ll know that i’ve decided to host another Friendship Friday tomorrow (20th March 2020).
Apologies for the short notice, I just figured that some of us might appreciate some much needed positivity during these uncertain times. So, if your new to the fandom, or if you’ve been here since day one, whether you’re self-isolating or doing vital work to keep your country going, we want to hear from you.
A little about Friendship Friday:
It all started a couple of years ago. I had been getting a lot of private messages and asks with a couple of recurring themes, in particular with regards to people who had recently joined the Marvel/Hiddles fandom. I wrote then:
‘Remember when you first came to Tumblr? When you didn’t know a single other person? When you sat there reblogging posts, not altogether sure who would even see your reblogs or if you were even ‘doing it right’? Remember when you were SO nervous to comment on a post because you didn’t know the ‘etiquette’ and whether it would be considered ‘butting in’ on someone else’s conversation? So you just didn’t. Or you plucked up the courage, replying to someone and nobody acknowledged you? Remember when you had no followers. Or two. or five. All of which were bots? Remember when you were just desperateto talk to someone about a piece of work your favourite actor/actress had done. Or simply wanted to rant about how frustratingly adorable *shifty eyes* their right eyebrow is? Remember when you started making edits or fan art or writing fics and nobody reblogged them? Or nobody read them and you sat wondering why? Or how you could make yourself more visible?
I remember ALL of these things vividly. Because for me it really wasn’t that long ago. I’d simply come to Tumblr for some solace from the outside world and to indulge my fandom obsessions. I wanted to talk to people who loved the same things I did. But I knew absolutely no-one. I’m far from Tumblr famous now btw and have absolutely no desire to become so! However, over time I have been very lucky to make some amazing friendships. Now all I want to be able to do is pay that forward.
As an outsider, allfandoms can seem daunting and often cliquey on first glance. There’s SO much fandom specific language used daily, so much back and forth between friends chatting, and yes, sadly, there will alwaysbe some drama unfolding somewhere. But there are also amazingpeople here. Friendly, positive people who share YOUR excitement, enthusiasm, frustrations, passions, and dare I say kinks? You get the idea…
With that in mind, I had a bit of a lightbulb moment. Wouldn’t it be cool if there was somewhere that new (and old) bloggers could introduce themselves and get chatting to others? Like a kind of ‘Fandom Freshers’ day, if you like. And, because i’m all about the alliteration (sorry nerd alert!) I thought i’d call it Friendship Friday.’
So. Are you new to the Hiddleston/MCU fandom and looking to meet others? Or are you an established blogger (however big or small) who would simply like to extend your hand in friendship? If so, send an ask* tothislink and i’ll post them all tomorrow (Friday 20th March 2020) and we can start making some new friends.
This time i’m also extending it to fans of other MCU actors/actresses. So please, feel free to join in!
*In the past people have talked a little about their hobbies, their favourite films/TV, where in the world they are (please, be safe in what you disclose), fandom things they like doing eg. writing, making edits, fanart, cosplay, chatting and reblogging (and please do not underestimate how important you guys are in a fandom), or simply just wanted to say hi and see if anyone new to the fandom wanted to talk. There’s no right or wrong way to do this, just be yourself and who knows, you might just meet some great new people. The only rules? We don’t do hate here. And obviously, anon asks aren’t going to work! <3
content:draco/harry, smoking, mention of bruises, everything else is vague af idk
a Two of Wands drarry for @the-starryknight, who got me thinking about stubborn Slytherins and how a post-war Draco would refuse to celebrate his victories. for my Tarot Card Drabblesseries
[for easier reading:
The smoke coming out of Draco’s mouth into the inky-black sky helps Harry find him in the garden. His eyes are closed and his head thrown back, exposing a faint yellow-purple bruise in the shape of Harry’s mouth.
“So… we’re throwing you a party and you’re… hiding?”
Draco brings the cigarette back to his lips. He doesn’t reply.
Harry reaches him, hooks their pinkies together.
“I’m proud of you, you know?” He says, quiet as the night.
“Shush.”
“I am. You may have far to go, you ridiculous, ambitious, Slytherin. But I’ll be celebrating you every step of the way.”]
This is my half of an art trade with @ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm ! It kind of got away from me, in terms of like, IP theft, but it is literally not my fault his ideas are so good and inspiring and stuff!?!
You can and should see Joy’s half of the trade Here!
I thought the world was black and white. I was of light, incorruptible. After, I was stained with darkness spreading like ink on water.
You came back grey, your colours a scarlet letter you wore so well. Alone but determined. And I watched you. And I watched you. And I watched you. That was nothing new.
Each day you grew a shade lighter while I grew dark. We met in the middle and never left, gripping on to each other to fight against the saturation of the world and our impulses.
Never quite white, never quite black. We shine in silver-grey.
for the @drarrymicrofic prompt “heartstopping” (T, 400 words) for @coffeedrgn87, who requested that this “heartstopper business” be “drarrified for [their] reading pleasure so [they] can have a meltdown over gay crisis harry” I hope this works.
Harry checked that none of their classmates were around before hovering his hand over Draco’s upturned one. His magic gathered in his fingertips, reaching out for Draco’s. It sparked, energy sizzling between them and waking Draco.
“S-sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” He yawned, looking soft in the glow of the fire, so cuddly.
“It’s okay,” Harry managed, swallowing around the confession that had been caught in his throat for weeks.
“You missed out on all the party games.” Draco pulled his hand back, picking at the chipped black nail polish on his thumb.
“I didn’t want to play anyways.”
“We could play something, just us?” He looked up hopefully at Harry. Merlin, I am so gone for this boy.
“Sure.”
“Truth, No Dare?”
They started out tame, skirting around heavier topics, until Harry recognized the opportunity for what it was and gathered his courage.
“Your turn,” Draco said.
“Okay, erm. Do you have… a crush?” Harry stared into the flames, nervous to hear Draco’s answer.
“Yes,” Draco whispered.
Harry whipped his head around. “Who?”
“Not what you asked.” Draco smirked.
“No fair!” Harry jumped on Draco, tickling him through the ratty t-shirt he’d stolen from Harry the week prior.
“No, Harry! Please!” Draco begged, giggling.
Harry stopped, realising that he was straddling Draco. They were both breathing heavily.
“Which… girl do you have a crush on?” Draco asked quietly, staring up at Harry.
“Who… said it was a girl?”
Draco’s eyes widened. “Boy?”
Harry’s breath hitched. No going back now.“You?”
“Is that a question?”
“No, I mean… you. I have a crush on you.”
Draco froze.
Fuck. Harry scrambled off Draco’s lap. “It’s stupid, forget I said anything—”
Draco cut him off with a kiss, cupping his cheeks so he couldn’t escape. Harry reciprocated after only a moment’s hesitation, Draco’s lips soft and sure against his own.
Draco pulled away. “I like you, too, idiot. I didn’t know if you were gay.”
Harry’s mouth curled up on one side. “I think I’ve slowly been coming to terms with maybe… being bisexual? There’s this blonde git—”
Draco swatted his chest. “A very handsomeblonde git, I’m sure.”
“Veryhandsome,” Harry agreed. He paused, staring too long at Draco’s smile before deciding fuck it and leaning in to kiss him again. He could’ve sworn a breeze kicked up in the room, swirling around them, pushing them closer together. Magic.
Written for the @drarrymicrofic prompt “Heartstopping” - basically shameless and unapologetic drarrification of you-know-what
“Hi,” when we pass in the Ministry corridor, and I catch the sugary scent of him.
“Hi,” when I realise we’ve been paired up for Lab class, my heart fluttering stupidly.
“Hi,” when he breaks away from his group of friends in the canteen to pick up the tray that Smith knocked out of my hands.
“I’m used to it,” I say, spelling the spilled juice and salad off the floor, because I am.
“You shouldn’t have to put up with that,” he says, frowning and passionate. And disastrously, it turns out Parkinson was right: I absolutely definitely am in love with a straight bloke. (And I’m definitely also obsessed with his muscles in those rolled up shirtsleeves.)
“Hi,” he whispers in the library, making me look up from my quill and parchment so quickly that it’s impossible to hide my that my heart skips a beat.
”Yeah, but you’re ace at duelling,” when he says I’m a genius at Concealment Charms and Potions Analysis.
“I’d love to,” when he blushes and stutters and asks if I fancy going for a kebab after training, just the two of us. And then he smiles. He smiles just for me (like I’m the one who’s made him happy), and it’s heartstopping.
RUN DO NOT WALK to read this. Such a compelling, elegant, moving take on the bonding/red string of fate trope. Tee’s writing leaves me incoherent as usual, with that sharp inventive style that gets me itching to just devour all the words. Beautiful.
Title: In The Public Interest Artist:Anonymous Prompt: Harry is on the “fast-track” to become the new Minister for Magic - his husband Draco is his campaign manager. What happens when they realize after all this time, Harry is pregnant. You decide how it plays out - will he continue to run or will he gracefully back out ? Art Medium:Digital Rating:G Contains: Discrimination of pregnant workers Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended. Epilogue compliant?Unlikely Who is pregnant?:Harry Notes: Thanks for this prompt, Betsy. It was so much fun creating this for the wonderful MPreg fest. You and Tim are brilliant mods and I appreciate your patience (and help with the title). Thanks also to T for being very eagle-eyed. And to A, B and L for the love and screaming. Summary: Harry doesn’t know why his husband still buys the Prophet. It’s a total rag.
“I was trapped,” Harry says, curled up on the big, squishy couch in front of the roaring fire, the sound of the rain spattering on the windows outside. “I couldn’t leave. You know, with the press, and the fans… It felt like a prison.”
“And now?” Draco asks, from where he’s tucked in next to Harry, resting his head on Harry’s chest, listening to the reassuring, steady beat of Harry’s boundless heart. “How does it feel now?”
Harry is quiet for a moment and then presses a kiss to Draco’s temple.
“Now,” he says softly, “it feels like a home.”
written for @drarrymicrofic and the prompt ‘prisoner’. Straight out of my head and onto the page.
Gentle reminder: I prefer that people do not extend or finish my writing without talking to me first! Thank you so much for understanding!
thanks so much for the tag @orange-peony! What fun! I’m going to give you a little piece of the upcoming chapter of Cocotte (disclaimer: this fic is very explicit- the six sentences are not explicit, but if you click the link the story you’ll be reading is.)
————-
Draco stretched his body, luxuriating in the soft comfort of the expensive sheets on the bed. He felt like an entirely different person than he had when he’d entered the room earlier that evening.
When he turned his head, he saw that Harry- no, Potter- was leaning with a hip against the doorway, watching him with a soft, almost indulgent look on his face.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked, aiming for haughty and waspish. His words came out sleepy and sated, in spite of his best intentions.
Potter shrugged carelessly, “I like you.”
———————-
We’ll get that chapter posted someday. The smutty bit isn’t done and I haven’t had the energy to work it out yet.
It does not bode well for anyone that the first thing that Harry says to her new roommate is a complete lie.
Sarah barely has time to introduce herself when Malfoy emerges from the room across the hallway from them.
Their jaws fall open in tandem. The motion is familiar to Harry whenever she forgets what Malfoy looks like. She is still definitely bitchy, horrible Malfoy, but Merlin, she is gorgeous. Sarah takes a little longer to recover, which Harry understands. Malfoy just has that effect on people. Sarah will know soon enough that Malfoy is a rotten fucking bastard and her beauty does not make up for any of it.
“Oh, sweet Merlin. Potter?” Malfoy says, ponytail swinging behind her. Harry’s mouth falls into its usual scowl, a shape it hasn’t taken in months. Figures. She’s not seen Malfoy the whole summer.
She notices Malfoy looks somehow even taller, her long slacks extending her legs impossibly, the pearl necklace around her neck screaming old money. Harry hates that Malfoy does that pretty girl/old librarian combo so well. She hates her gorgeous straight hair, she hates her beautiful grey eyes. Harry Potter hates every single thing about Draco Malfoy. But especially, she hates the smirk on those stupid pink lips.
“Malfoy,” she manages to croak, with a nod, and turns straight back into her dorm.
“Sprawled back on the cushioned seat, flimsy shirt still on but undone so the lean muscles of Malfoy’s chest and abdomen could be seen. His eyes were closed, head thrown back, his throat bared and lips parted. Another sound escaped him, a low, breathy moan while his hand gripped tightly in the dark, shaggy hair of a head that could only just be seen moving over his hips before disappearing beneath the table.”
Happiest birthday to the wonderful Penny!! I hope you enjoy this belated little gift I haven’t been able to stop thinking about this fic ever since I read it a couple of weeks ago. It’s just THAT good.
This fic is so fun and sexy and the chemistry between the boys were off the charts. I know that Harry was technically supposed to still be on glamours here, but I realised I wouldn’t be able to pull that off in art form, so this would have to do If anyone wants to know what happens after this scene- well, you’ll just have to go and give the fic a read
The following is a snip from my drarry fic where Harry has a chronic illness.
Carefully, so as not to disturb Harry more than he already was, Draco slipped out of the bed, tucking the covers back around his husband. Padding through their little cottage, Draco paused to grab his dressing gown from where it laid haphazardly across the back of the sofa. Yesterday had been a good day and well, they tended to discard clothes a lot more readily on good days.
He really should have seen this coming, Draco mused. Harry’s health had been better in the last month than it had been for almost a year, but Harry had a tendency to push himself. There had been produce to harvest, jams and chutneys and pickles to be made. Even now, their small kitchen was full of this autumn’s work, jars littering every surface and garlands of onions and garlic hanging in the windows.
for the darling @sitp-recs’ second fanniversary. Thank you Liv for your friendship, here’s a microfic for you Prompted by @lqtraintrackscw: implicit sex
From behind Harry curves into him, so his body heat scorches through the thin cotton of Draco’s shirt. They’ve never crossed this line before, but anticipation pricks every nerve ending on Draco’s skin. With a shudder, he leans back into Harry’s grasp, intimate, knowing.
I watch with hungry eyes as your father presents you to your respectable, pureblood suitors. You introduce me as your friend.
Your real friends have grown tired of my name on your lips, whispered while my teeth still mark your skin.
Tears fall from your eyes as you leave my bed in the dead of night. You think you’re so sly—I always notice.
You’re not a prize, but I’ll play this game. I’ll hold you, watch you walk away, and wait until you run back into my arms. Again and again, ‘til you no longer see me as your friend.
Warnings/Content Notes: Jealousy, body image worries, past Teddy/Harry, background Drarry, camping, small penis, sex mentoring, getting over past relationship.
Word count:11.9k
Summary:
It all starts on the camping trip when James gets his dick out in the tent.
Written for @jeddyfest therefore the pairing is Jeddy Thanks so much to @skeptiquewritesand@tackytigerfic for looking this over and helping me whip it into some kind of shape.
Just look at those tags. Only maester could take a filthy gorgeous kink like this and turn it into such a sweetly funny, moving, falling-in-love and coming-of-age fic. Big themes of regret and hope here alongside the most deliciously tender smut. Go and bask in this!
Thank you for tagging me @tackytigerfic ! Love your list. Ahh this art list was harder to do than my fic one (partly because I just nice had 5 fics at the time ) but I narrowed it down to 5, out of those that I’m allowed to reveal atm. I’m super nervous so I’m not tagging anyone but please join in if you see this and would like to do it, and tag me back too :)
Read under the cut, and please click on the images for better quality
Thanks for the tag, @teacup-tai! I’ve done this one before, so instead of reccing my five favourite fics, I’ll post a little extract from five of my most recent one-shots.
Rules: Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you’ve written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love
They say that Harry is the Golden Boy with fire in his eyes, that he shines bright and ignites fast. But when Neville looks up and watches Draco let loose in the air, he sees nothing but the sun.
Every night, Neville knows, he just knows, that they get to burn together.
And like the pastel macarons and sugar-rolled madeleines that Draco lays out for everyone, Neville wants a taste of that heat too.
“Oh, come off it,” Draco spits. “I’m not asking for your hand in marriage. That has nothing to do with this.” He lifts his chin. “And I’m a grown man, thank you very much.”
Remus looks at Draco’s badge. At his height. At his broad shoulders.
Yes, he supposes Draco is right about that.
“So let me ask you again… Remus,” Draco says slowly. He rolls Remus’s name on his tongue like a foreign word that he’s not quite sure how to say. That, despite his prior directness, he’s almost seeking permission to say. He looks at Remus and meets his gaze head on. “Would you like some company?”
Kielder Forest, Harry had said one night last week, rushing into Draco’s little office, where he’d always find him working under twinned lumos lights rotating over his head like two cells waiting to merge, like two stars ready to collide. One blue, one yellow. It helps with my eyes, Potter, Draco had explained way back when Harry plucked up the courage to ask him about it. Way back when they were still Malfoy and Potter. Poring over tiny writing all night’s a killer. Now get lost, I’m busy.
I’m sorry, what? Draco had asked him that night last week, ruffling a quill up against his temple, disturbing the neat fall of his hair. There had been a smudge of soot high up on his cheekbone from a raid earlier that morning, one Harry and Ron hadn’t been a part of, but Draco had.
“You died,” Malfoy says quietly, staring at him, his eyes still boring into him. It comes out of nowhere.
Harry stares back. “I did.”
“What did it feel like?”
Harry slips his fingers up higher, underneath the hem of Malfoy’s pyjamas, splaying them over his calf. He doesn’t play Quidditch anymore - neither of them do - but it’s still strong. Slender. Wiry.
“It was scarier coming back,” he admits, remembering all of the eyes on him, the expectations, the fear, the dread, the malice. He thinks of Malfoy, bleeding to death on the bathroom floor, practically alone. “Is that what it felt like for you?”
Malfoy pulls in a sharp breath. “Yes,” he whispers, but he doesn’t elaborate. He just continues to stare at Harry across the small space, grey eyes a brewing storm.
There had been a certain quality to Draco’s gaze when he first arrived here at the colony, all of those months ago, burdened with luggage and research and a flightiness in his eyes that spoke of a few years of not knowing where to land, where to root himself.
That sadness, that disquiet, has now settled into something that Charlie has watched grow and change over time, and when Draco’s cloudy grey gaze slides over to meet his own warm look now, it spreads itself open like a flower thankful for the sun.
Charlie, in a million years, never thought he’d find himself falling for a Malfoy, for a former teenaged Death Eater with a great spill of inked flowers on the inside of his arm, barely covering up the dark shame that rests underneath.
But here he is.
Tucking wildflowers into his hair like a lovesick knight courting a fair maiden.
What sheer good luck for us that maester has been writing so much recently! Back to her Drarry roots here with this wickedly hot, totally charming, sweetly poignant take on getting together. Such a brilliant mix of filth and fondness, with a very creative take on the smut scene… an utter delight of a fic.
Little Compton Street (One Rainy Night in Soho) by Writcraft Artwork by LLAP115
Harry/Draco (Explicit, 65k)
Draco is lonely, Harry hates the press and it won’t stop raining in London. Harry discovers a magical street that’s close to disappearing forever and Draco realises he’s one rainy night in Soho away from finding everything he’s been searching for.
This fic!!!! I’ll never make it justice with a simple rec so I won’t even try. This journey is incredibly atmospheric and thought provoking, it sucks you in like few fics do, and by the end you wish you could obliviate yourself just to read it for the first time again and again. Such a wistful, healing and immersive narrative, with lovely and human characters, gorgeous dialogue, a painfully real yet sensitive approach to queer themes and brilliant scorching smut that took my breath away. The amount of research that went into this made it an ode to queer history, to resistance, to love and to hope. Thank you @writcraft for allowing me into such a magical and inspiring universe!
My “Liv Day” started with one of my favourite people @tackytigerfic reblogging one of my favourite fics by one of my favorite authors @writcraft. Auspicious, right? Despite being a very short rec - can’t believe I used to write only one paragraph recs at some point, sounds fake but ok lol - I’m incredibly proud of being able to put my rambling thoughts into words, and of coming up with one of my all-time favourite banners, for a fic that means so much to me. I revisit this universe in my mind every now and then, forever lost in the magic of that first kiss scene at the club, in Harry and Draco’s earliest conversations and intimate get together, in their shared discoveries and contact with queer history ️
These are Tacky’s tags, which sum up beautifully our friendship and our love for Drarry and for this fandom. I feel so lucky to have both in life, and I’ll be forever grateful to this blog for bringing us together
Your enjoyment of Little Compton Street means such a lot to me @sitp-recs. This is one of the fics of my own that I probably revisit the most (is that weird/arrogant to say? I hope not!) because I like to escape to Little Compton Street every once in a while and it feels like home. It means the world that you like to visit the universe too and spend time there <3
Today I’m lifting up the enourmously talented tacky ( @tackytigerfic | tackytiger on AO3). I’ve been so lucky to get to know tacky a bit over in discord-land, namely by going into their DMs and screaming incoherently about a fic that they wrote that I loved. As one does.
Today’s fic is In the Hallway (Drarry, 1960 words, Mature). This fic is just devestating in the most beautiful way. Tacky’s writing is always gorgeous, they have such a sure, steady way and a lyrical voice. This fic drops us in to a particular moment in time, it doesn’t explain how we got to where we are, it just transports us there beautifully. This is a fic about trauma and how healing is long and slow, and imperfect. How we’re not always our best selves when were hurting, but we have to keep trying. Keep working on it. Ultimately, this felt like a very hopeful fic, and I definitely was crying at the end of it, so there’s that.
Harry expects something like the aftermath of the war: waking up screaming, sweaty, and the half moons of his nails carved into his palms. But it’s nothing like it. Post-war grief had felt like a weight on his whole body, mourning Draco feels like a hollow space in his middle that will never be filled again.
Oooof. The soft MCD from last week needed a mean companion and I accidentally spilled my house-move emotions into this little ficlet. This one is all hurt and no comfort so proceed with care and keep some tissues around, just in case.
Happy blogversary to the wonderful Liv @sitp-recs!!!
Liv has brought so many people into the Drarry fandom through her recs, including myself. She is so generous with her time and knowledge, and her fic recs are gorgeous.
Liv, we want you to know just how loved and appreciated you are, and how important you are to so many people. I hope you enjoy this little snippet of soft boys.
I hate him, until he smiles. Before he smiles he is the saviour, he is the poster boy, he is the carrier of the weight of the world. But when he smiles he is Harry, my Harry.
Out there, for them, he must be strong, stoic. He is the perfect Head Auror, his Order of Merlin, First Class, beautifully polished before each gala, each press conference. I style his hair, straighten his collar, shine his shoes. I cannot go with him, but I am always there, hidden in the shadows where only he can see me. It is not perfect, but it is enough.
The public that praises him is the same one that spurns me. But they do not know what I know. They do not know that every word he speaks is written by me, his feet in my lap as we curl together by the fire. They do not know his impeccable manners have been drilled into him by me, over beans on toast and gooey brownies, during nights filled with laughter and love. That elegant waltz with which he leads the Minister’s wife is the same one that spins me around our living room as I hold him close, soothing his fears with my heartbeat alone.
His public persona is perfect, free from any crack or strain. Each day he layers on his mask and steps out into a world that, to him, is as bleak as the one he grew up in. The public sees only the victorious saviour. I am the only one who knows the weight on his shoulders, knows that he will never consider himself done.
But at the end of the day, he walks back through the door, allowing his mask to melt away. The darkness is left outside, his eyes always blinking as if in wonder at the light, the freedom, that he has walked into. He allows me to fold him into my arms, to bundle him up and protect him from the world, for just a little while.
My life is full of so many mistakes, so many wrongs that I cannot atone for. But I can do this. I can love him, protect him. I can soften the edges that the day has wrought on his body, on his mind. I can show him a love that no one had ever shown him before, whisper I love you into his skin. You’re worth it.
I hate watching him go every morning, brows furrowed, shoulders tight. But here, in our tiny cottage, I see him smile. And I love him, love him, love him.
Oh, Katie. I’m so utterly in love with this, you have no idea. You had my heart in your hands with the very first paragraph “but when he smiles he’s Harry, my Harry”. I don’t know how you managed to convey such bittersweet tenderness in this tiny drabble, this aching Draco feels so vulnerable and familiar, so very relatable in his conflict between wanting more than a life in the shadows, and convincing himself it’s enough that he’s the one who gets to see and protect the real Harry. This sort of devoted angst always tugs at my heartstrings and makes me ache with the character, it’s so lovely to be inside Draco’s mind and suffer this special brand of heartbreak through him.
I’m incredibly humbled and thankful that you wrote something this gorgeous and poignant for me, and inspired by that amazing song!! I freaking love SaL, everything they write is so shippable thank you darling, for this special gift and for all the reblogs, lovely tags, compliments and enthusiasm celebrating my blogversary today, I appreciate it so much
Hello from beautiful Blocksville, population me. Writer’s block has hit, hopefully only mildly. Very little new stuff that i can share but i did vow to keep posting snips so here we are. It’s a little saucy Legilimency action between Harry and Draco, in which Draco distracts Harry away from the memories Draco doesn’t want him to see. Unedited.Tagging everyone who wants to do this!
“Fine. You want to see what I’m hiding? Here,” Malfoy whispered almost gleefully, and Harry wasn’t sure if the words were spoken aloud or just in his mind, because he was surrounded by Malfoy’s thoughts now, the mental link between them pulsing open wide, a flood.
Harry himself was there, looking tired and worried in Lucius’s study, then disappearing under the sweep of the invisibility cloak, just a recent memory, and then more, older ones these times but Harry remembered them vividly—himself on a broom, flying low over the eaves of the Grimmauld roof, laughing down at Malfoy who was lying back on the rough tarred surface under the casement windows, so high up, both of them drunk, they must have been crazy. Harry drinking tea, hands meeting around the cup, eyes lost to thought as steam rose, Padfoot running in. Harry again, this time in school, a split lip, blood on the front of his torn shirt, looking furious about something.
“What are you doing?” he whispered to Malfoy.
“You were the one who went snooping through my memories,” Malfoy said, sneering, and then they started up again, times that Harry didn’t even remember but that he knew must be from before, because he looked so young and so stupidly happy and hopeful.
Harry with a wand, practicing something over and over, sparks filling the air of the blue drawing room.
Remus, a fresh unhealed wound under his left eye, arms tight around Harry’s neck, whispering something into his ear while Sirius rubbed Harry’s lower back in circles, and along with that a feeling of wistful jealousy that Harry realised was Malfoy’s.
Harry on the old horsehair couch at one end of the library in Grimmauld Place, waving a wine glass as he talked, face so bright and interested and alive.
And then the memory began to shiver a bit, Harry’s young unlined face and shorter curls shifting into something different, making him look more like he did now but with something not quite right about it. He looked… handsomer, he thought, eyes a brighter green than he knew they were, the flush of stubble making him look dashing rather than unkempt, a glossy sheen to his long hair.
“Malfoy…” he began, but then the version of himself in Malfoy’s mind smiled, not the sweet interested smile of the earlier vision, but something altogether different, his teeth catching on the wine-reddened curve of his lower lip, something promising and dark and vulnerable in it. He lay back against the arm of the couch, and now the background had faded into an indefinable nothingness, and it was just this image of Harry with his head back, throat bared, back arching just a little before he reached down to the button of his jeans and flicked it open carelessly with one thumb.
Draco makes it past the Intruder Charm. Skips the step that triggers a Blasting Curse and slips through the double wards at the top stairs. Answers three security questions through the closed door.
“I wasn’t expecting you until next week,” Harry says, tugging Draco inside by his belt loops.
“Granger asked me to come.” Draco tilts his head towards the table laid out with an assortment of potions and magical devices—illegal, every one. “She had a hunch you might be planning one of your little disruptions when the American Minister for Magic arrives tomorrow.”
Harry makes an irritated hum against Draco’s neck. “Maybe I am. Why did she send you?”
“Because, Potter,” Draco murmurs, already at work on his shirt buttons, “she knows I’m the only one you’ll listen to when you need to be good.”
happy two year tumblrversary lovely liv @sitp-recs! thank you so much for all of the encouragement and support you’ve given to me and everyone in fandom. to celebrate your two year anniversary, here are 400 words of run ons featuring draco reflecting on his two-year anniversary with harry. thanks so much to @written-in-ash for helping me fight commas.
The sun burned embers on the horizon before they realized what the departing day marked — a line drawn against time, and crossed again by clumsy feet. Draco knew he could never capture it, but if he tried, it might be:
The outline Harry’s hair made on summer-sunned days — short, and then long, and then short again — but always capturing the same glow as fading daylight thinned itself into a halo. The path Draco took as he walked behind him, fitting his feet into footsteps forged in flattened grass, Harry always a few paces ahead, and rarely looking back.
Or the dark skids against the floors of their first, and then second, and then third flats, where the legs of couches and tables dragged against cheap linoleum and imitation hardwood. The stains that would be lifted easily with scouring spells if they hadn’t long ago stopped bothering to erase their mistakes.
Or the burn of his tongue on too-hot tea. Or the crumpled fabric of threadbare t-shirts tossed into the corners of bathrooms. Or the particular wrist movement for spells that revived wilting ivy and overwatered succulents. Or the way that when Harry tried to leave him, he closed the door so gently the sound could be hushed away by a quiet sigh or the breeze through an open window. The way that when Harry came back, it was louder each time, a revelry of bags dropped on floors and brooms clattering walls and a path stamped by heavy footfall, one Draco thought the floor might one day memorize as it seeped into the earth below.
Or the sound of slow, quiet breaths, cheeks squished against armrests, and the deep slumber of a man who earned his every exhale, even the ones that turned to snores. Or the sheen of moonlight spread thin across sweat rich sheets on the nights Draco lay awake and wondered. Not whether they would one day tear each other apart, but whether they already had: limb from limb, only to find themselves demolished things, recomposed into reflected shapes that always recognized each other, if seldom themselves.
Or the two years behind them, not a threshold but a bridge. And a future Draco might try to pluck as if from a tree, to sink his teeth into and let dribble down his cheeks, knowing he would never truly taste it until it was kissed from his lips.
CROW PLEASE, I’M ON THE FLOOR???!! This was so astoundingly poetic and transcending, so full of raw emotion and purpose, not a single word (or comma!! ) wasted, every little letter masterfully placed giving shape to two years of the love of a lifetime. I’m speechless and in awe of your talent, of how you’re able to convey so much feeling and emotional resonance within 400 perfectly chosen words. And the beautiful imagery! The “outline Harry’s hair made on summer-sunned days — short, and then long, and then short again — but always capturing the same glow as fading daylight thinned itself into a halo” lives rent free in my mind, wow so cinematic. Without a single line of dialogue this still managed to take my breath away.
It was impossible to pick a favourite quote bc every new line screamed poetry and lodged its way inside my heart, but I’m particularly taken by the beauty of “Not whether they would one day tear each other apart, but whether they already had: limb from limb, only to find themselves demolished things, recomposed into reflected shapes that always recognized each other, if seldom themselves.”
*cries in Drarry* to think you’ve created such a unique love tale, with that quietly wistful and contemplating tone that I love, to celebrate Liv Day makes me heart burst with gratitude and appreciation. Thank you so so much for thinking of me and gifting all of us with your brilliant writing. We’re lucky to have you in this fandom and it’s been a pleasure to follow your work closely this year. I’m so excited to see what comes next! Thank you!!!
@sitp-recs Hey Liv! I hope today has been filled with all the love and goodness you deserve. Happy Fanniversary, you amazing, amazing human.
I have my own small contribution, based on “All These Things That I’ve Done” by The Killers. Liv, I hope you enjoy this.
Draco clutched Harry’s hand like a lifeline; he could feel him trying to squeeze back but unable to under the tight grip.
He watched the Weasleys gathered around the table, each of them regarding Draco with blank, thoughtful expressions. “Sorry we’re late,” Harry said with a small smile. “Room for two more?”
The silence was thick. Draco swallowed, and tried to will his feet to carry him briskly out of the Burrow, but this time it was Harry who held his hand too tightly to move, anchoring him to the moment, to his inevitable fate. Draco steeled himself and tried to focus on the blinking Christmas lights, the red and green decorations that filled the cozy home.
He cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t want to intrude—”
“Who’s here—Oh!” A woman who Draco recognized as the matriarch of the house strode into the room, carrying a large tray filled with steaming slices of turkey. “Harry,” she said with a bright grin, and Draco braced himself as she set down the tray on the table and approached them where they stood at the door. “You’re looking much too hungry, my dear, and you!” She turned to Draco, who clenched his jaw. “I’m afraid you’ll simply blow away!” She tsked, shaking her head. “We’ll simply have to change that, won’t we? Come in and eat! And close that door before the chill ruins my food, will you, Harry dear? Draco, I’ve saved you a seat next to me—” as she rambled, she took Draco’s hand with a smile and led him toward the table.
Draco started after her and looked at Harry over his shoulder, bewildered and slightly frightened. Harry grinned in return, moving to close the door before he caught up to Draco and the woman, who insisted on being called ‘Molly,’ sat them down at the table. The rest of the family had started conversing lowly, stirring with the low hum of small talk.
Draco sat between Harry and Molly, the former reaching under the table to squeeze his hand again as the latter began serving him heaps of turkey and mashed potatoes and stuffing and cranberry sauce. The table had erupted into loud, bright conversation, laughter and warmth filling the air.
Draco looked at Harry, who smiled at him again and leaned next to him, whispering, “See? Not so bad.”
Draco nodded, allowing himself a shaky smile. “No,” he whispered back. “Not so bad.”
oh my heart, this made me so soft!! Phoebes I have no idea how you found out that Draco & Molly bonding at Christmas is one of my absolute favourite side dynamics, I’m???This is my ultimate jam and I’m completely undone by how you brought the sweet comfort of the found family trope with this feel of quiet tentativeness, plus Harry’s unflinching support and Molly’s generous heart warmed my heart like you wouldn’t believe!
This was so very gentle and healing, and it’s everything all these characters deserve in the post-war. To heal and to come together as a family, and nothing more meaningful than having these two people Harry loves so fucking much taking the first step towards connection. I looove the initial tension, how Draco feels wrong-footed and almost flees, how Molly breaks the awkwardness with a good-natured generosity that feels very genuine and kind. This made my heart smile so much, and I can’t believe you remembered the song!!!! This was such a gorgeous take on those lyrics, I’m shook and really touched that you found the time and inspiration to create this for me thanks so much, the fandom is a better place now you’ve joined us with your heart and enthusiasm, and I’m lucky to have friends like you!! Lots of love
