The most unrealistic thing in the Harry Potter series isn’t the moving pictures or the flying it’s the fact that no one told Draco and Harry to “just kiss already” during their bickering.
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Drarry prompt where Ron and or Hermoine/Ginny take Harry to a dental appointment with Draco and is high as fuck over whatever magical equivalent of anesthesia there is
“This has to be the most boring conference I’ve ever attended,” Harry groans.
“I agree. I’d much rather attend the gorgeous Indian wedding taking place in the lawns downstairs. But…” Draco sighs
Harry’s face lights up with mischief. “Let’s do it!”
“What?”
“Crash the wedding! Robards is droning on…everyone’s almost asleep. No one will notice. We’ll transfigure our robes and buy them a gift from the gift shop.”
“We can’t crash a wedding!” Draco whisper-shouts.
“What’s the matter, Malfoy, scared?” Harry challenges, delighting at the impish glint in Draco’s eyes.
Here’s a little something for you, because you’re wonderful and your beautiful art brightens up my days. 600 words on soulmates, rated T.
“Do you believe in soulmates?” Draco asks, and Harry’s reply doesn’t come as a surprise, not really.
“Absolutely not,” Harry declares without turning. He stirs the pasta sauce and smacks his lips in satisfaction after tasting it.
Draco can see the explosion of colours in the sky from the kitchen window. His tiny kitchen feels warm and cosy, and his heart flutters like a little bird when Harry turns to smile at him. Merlin, Draco loves this man so much that sometimes it feels like his heart can’t possibly contain all the feelings he has for him.
“How come?” Draco insists, because he loves hearing about Harry’s opinion on pretty much anything.
“I believe we make our own destiny,” Harry says, grabbing a few leaves from Draco’s basil plant and chucking them into the sauce. “I don’t think magic or predestination have anything to do with love.”
It reminds Draco of that thing he read in a Muggle library, about Homo faber suae quisque fortunae. Every man is the artisan of his own destiny.
“What about prophecies?” Draco asks.
Harry snorts, grabbing a pan from the drying rack and filling it with tap water.
He looks absolutely gorgeous in Draco’s kitchen, as if he belonged in his miniature Muggle flat with all the pot plants and the colourful rugs Draco bought at Camden Market.
“I believe you make of them what you want,” Harry replies.
Draco doesn’t tell him about the prophecy that was made about him when he was born. That an old witch predicted Draco would lose everything, only to gain one thing that would be more important than all the rest. Draco knows with every fibre of his being that the prophecy meant Harry, but he doesn’t say it.
He strokes the warm fur of the cat asleep on his lap instead, and Oatmilk purrs in contentment. Draco stretches his legs under the table, and Vanilla plays with the red pompoms of his slippers, her paw touching them carefully and making Draco smile.
“So you don’t believe that people are meant to find each other?” Draco murmurs, but what he actually wants to ask is if Harry doesn’t believe they’re destined to be together.
“We choose who we want to be with,” Harry insists, turning to look him straight in the eyes. His gaze is so intense that Draco feels a flush colouring his own cheeks. “I chose you, Draco. And I choose to be with you every day of my life.”
“Hmm,” Draco mumbles, because he’s this close to saying those three little words he’s never said to anyone. They’ve never felt as real as they feel now with Harry.
He imagines a red thread connecting his little finger to Harry’s, linking them by destiny or love or whatever biggest force rules the universe.
“Draco, we’re together because we are…” Harry starts, his face turning crimson, and Draco is worried he might say something dreadful like sexually compatibleorshagging like rabbits all the time, but Harry moves closer, interlacing their fingers together and bringing Draco’s hand to his lips to kiss it tenderly. “We are…I mean, at least I am…I didn’t mean to presume - Merlin’s pants on fire, why is this so bloody hard?”
Draco stares at him, his eyes widening in understanding as Harry’s ears turn red.
“I love you,” Draco says softly. “So much.”
Harry’s smile blooms on his face, making his eyes crinkle at the corners and his eyes shine so bright.
“I love you too,” he says before leaning closer for a kiss that tastes like basil and sunsets and love.
@drarrymicrofic May 7 2021 | Prompt: Caught | an: i found this in my notes?? and i never posted it apparently but i actually do like it so here it is now
At midnight, he runs. He is halfway down the steps when he’s caught by a hand around his wrist.
“Malfoy. Don’t go yet.”
He looks up from his caught wrist to his captor, gold mask glinting in the moonlight—the mask that covers that scar, but cannot hide those brilliant green eyes.
Sometime during the 8th year, that was added on for Hogwarts students, Harry and Draco become trapped together in what seems to be a dark storage closet.
Of course it’s Harry’s doing, pushing Draco in, (who was minding his own business) in attempts to hide from Filch.
The closet is much smaller than Harry thought it would be
