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.
I wish I had the brain to do all the @hdcandyheartsfest prompts but alas, we do what we can ☺️ (Shoutout to all of you who are doing them every day, I love reading all your entries, you’re amazing!)
Anyway, here’s some fluff and domesticity for today’s prompt Love Confession under the cut (rated T | 800 words). Biggest thank you to @curlyy-hair-dont-care for betaing and being wonderful.
“Do you remember your first Sunday dinner at the Burrow?”
It’s not said like a question, just a low hum into the pillow, into the small space between them. Draco grunts, doesn’t open his eyes. He wasn’t asleep but he was drifting and it’s too early for a two-sided conversation.
He remembers, all right. Molly had invited him, out of pity he thinks, and via Granger. He didn’t want to go but Hermione can be very convincing. And scary.
“You played chess with Ron by the fire.” Harry’s voice sounds too awake for this hour.
Draco had almost forgotten that part, but they did sit by the fire for a while and it felt like home and family and safety, even though Draco didn’t belong and was a little bit lost. Now the warmth of the memory spreads in his abdomen like molten gold and he buries himself deeper into the sheets.
“You were so concentrated and kept frowning because Gin and I were testing George’s new products.”
“You were making such a ruckus with those things, like a pack of excitable racoons. It was hard to think,” Draco murmurs, and it comes out muffled, swallowed by his pillow. “Then there was the one that exploded on the coffee table.”
“And you nonchalantly threw a shield charm at us without looking up from the chessboard and then did a checkmate in the next second. I had no idea you were even paying attention.”
“Healer training instinct.”
“Ron was not impressed.”
“But you were.”
Harry doesn’t answer for a while, so Draco finally opens his eyes. Harry is looking at him and maybe Draco needs a shield charm now for the intensity of his gaze. His eyes don’t look green in the dawn light but they’re no less bright and fierce.
“I was. It’s also when I knew.”
“Knew what?”
It’s a strange thing how quickly Draco’s heart can start beating just because Harry’s voice suddenly sounded a bit small even in the few inches of space between them. Draco holds his breath and thinks that nothing good can come out of a five-a.m. talk. His thoughts spill into all the ugly corners of his mind where his insecurity lives, where there is proof that all this is not real, can’t be and Harry will tell him now that he’s changed his mind, that he had been right about Draco all along.
Harry can probably tell he is panicking, it’s hard to keep your composure when it’s the middle of the night and they are so close and still naked, because he reaches out to brush his thumb across Draco’s cheek and says, “Knew that I was in love with you.”
Maybe Harry did some wandless magic along with his words because Draco can’t feel his heart at all now.
“But that was…ages ago, years ago!” Eight years to be precise, when they were just starting to talk properly, when Harry was still in Auror training, before he had decided to leave, both the training and England, to find out what he wanted to do with his life.
“I know. I realised I was in love with you and I, er… didn’t want to be.” His smile is a little sheepish, but Draco doesn’t blame him. Still doesn’t believe that Harry came back after deciding that what he wanted was, in fact, Draco.
“But I wanted to tell you now. That I love you. And that I’m not going to disappear again.”
Draco feels a bit like he did at the Burrow back then – home, safe, warm – and no longer lost. These past few weeks since they’d started this – this thing that doesn’t have a name yet – seemed like something fragile, something precious. A bit lopsided, Draco thinks, on his side at least. For him, it has always been Harry, always, and there were times when he hated that. But nobody has ever even come close, so Draco had made peace with hoping that perhaps Harry might catch up one day. He wouldn’t have even dared to imagine that maybe it hasn’t been so uneven after all.
Draco closes his eyes so that Harry can’t see him properly, all of him, the unedited version that’s feeling like a broom has been pulled out from under him – but in a good way. Like a freefall. He can’t help the smile that’s stubbornly pulling at his mouth though, so he lets it happen.
“You impossible prat. This couldn’t wait until breakfast?”
Harry laughs, deep and happy and knowing, because Draco can’t hide from his voice how much he’s in love too, and Harry can see all the way through him anyway.
Can someone please tell me where the best Drarry Fanfiction is at??? I’m new to the fandom and I want to find the A1 FanFicts. Like you know how the best (in my opinion) kellic fics are the kellin under the Vic’s? Is there any really good Authors who write A1 Drarries?? And you can just like reblog with a link or send me a message :)
Mise en Place is the perfect example of why Crow’s work is so fun to read. They do an incredible job of characterizations and nail both Harry and Draco’s hesitancy. Crow always writes situations that feel so real and plausible, which allows their characters come to life.
Whether you prefer cilantro or parsley (I like both, by the way) you’ll love Mise en Place as much as I did. Make your favorite comfort food, then enjoy this lovely and warm comfort read that will make your heart feel full like it’s just eaten a warm, buttery, and crisp cottage pie. And when you’re done with this fic, you should definitely check out his other stuff for dessert!
As always, if you find a fic you enjoy, please show your appreciation and leave the creator a kudos or a comment!
“I think,” Malfoy says quietly, a wisp of air in the night. “I think I love you.”
This morsel of sweetness flitted by on my dash tonight and was perfect. I love the tenderness and whispered confessions. Sometimes what feels like cowardice is actually quiet bravery.
You’ll love this as much as I did. Give yourself a little treat tonight. And if you love it like I did, be sure to leave a kudos or a comment.
“I think,” Malfoy says quietly, a wisp of air in the night. “I think I love you.”
This morsel of sweetness flitted by on my dash tonight and was perfect. I love the tenderness and whispered confessions. Sometimes what feels like cowardice is actually quiet bravery.
You’ll love this as much as I did. Give yourself a little treat tonight. And if you love it like I did, be sure to leave a kudos or a comment.
Get yourself good friends. Get yourself friends who you adore, friends who call you cute, friends you have something in common with, friends you can dance with, friends who make you laugh, friends who are just as dumb as you, friends who are definitely dumber than you, friends who make fun of you, friends you enjoy with. But perhaps most mundanely importantly, friends who you are comfortablewith.
Comfort is such an integral but overlooked part of any human relationship. It’s the innate warmness of knowing that you can be a smouldering mess and they won’t mind. Such a happy realisation that this stretch of space between you and them is your own, without the mortifying ordeal of being know.
Comfort is a higher level of tuning, a deeper understanding. It’s something that only time and trust can grow. Somebody you can be with without making your brain do laps and push ups. No thoughts, head empty. Just straight up vibes.
It’s the joy of meeting your friend in pjs. The chaotic excitement of a thousand texts you send your best friend when embarrassing shit goes down. The straightforward trust of “I don’t like this, can you stop doing this?” And the sincerity of “I won’t, from now on.”
Get yourself goodfriends. Friends who are on the same page, friends who communicate, friends who you want to support, friends who you connect with, friends who you trust, friends who trust you, friends who understand you, friend who feel like warm blankets, friends who taste like soup, friends who remind you of characters, friends who you can hug. Friends who love you for who you are, friends who you love for who they are. Friends who feel warm and fuzzy and sweet and gentle and real.
My “life-altering”, super important exams got postponed for the third time today and it’s so fucking funny. The utter chaos, I can’t even- Class group chats erupting with never-heard-before curse words. Teachers calling students trying to get them off of their balconies they climbed into. Relatives spamming the family gc with “how r u dear” Do not ask, don’t even dare.
Kids everywhere re-installing their instagram accounts. Everyone is all of a sudden, asking for series/ books/ movie recommendations. Some kids are happy, some are angry, some are sad, some are just over it, all of them lost.
Now I know why the Chinese phrase “May you live in interesting times” is considered a curse, rather than a blessing.
(Or alternatively, which hogwarts house is likely to be involved in said tropes.)
Gryffindor: rivals to friends to lovers, there was only one bed, accidentally locked themselves in a confined space (absolutely the kind of dumbassery you would expect from a gryff), idiots in love, truth and dare, OBLIVIOUSNESS, coming of age.
Hufflepuff: friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, coffee shop au, FLUFF, song fics, childhood best friends, neighbors, mutual pining, accidental confession (lmfao), hot cold dynamics, soulmate au.
Ravenclaw: office romance, METAPHORS, book shop au (obviously), bonding over common interests, letter/email fics, soft nerds, project partners, DARK ACADEMIA, domestic as hell, “and they were roommates”.
Slytherin: enemies to friends to lovers (duh), Fake dating, arranged marriage, partners in crime, immortal lovers, vampire/veela/supernatural elements, Never have I ever, ANGST, secret pining, “make me.” ‘nuff said.
It kinda makes sense in a weirdly specific way if you think about it.
I was in a Comic Con in 2018, a billion years ago, where a really pretty Hufflepuff high fived me because I was wearing a Gryffindor scarf. There was this guy with a goddamn husky on his scooter who smiled at me through the window of my car. And that rockstar of a girl whom I met way back in 7th grade in a theatre workshop audition. I’ve never seen their faces again, probably never will.
Strangers are so easy to love. I know so little of them, but it’s still enough to remember. It’s like they’re frozen in those 5 seconds of life I shared with them. Maybe I’m frozen somewhere too? Backstage of a competition, in the background of somebody’s profile picture, the dance room of my old school, or maybe that road lined with dancing trees that I often lazily tread with my best friend.
Really makes you wonder if you leave the same mark on others as they do on you. If you’re the clumsy fool, the kind stranger, or the weirdo who they remember judging fleetingly. Because what is life if not the imprint of yourself you leave on the people of this world.
If no one remembers you living, were you even at all?
