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
