I Found The Most Appropriate Fanart For This. Also Thanks For Corrupting My Thoughts..

I found the most appropriate fanart for this. Also thanks for corrupting my thoughts..

I don't know the artist tho. Tag them if you know

Drarry Legimimency

A little smutty but just had a thought maybe someone could write a fic idk, I pretty much suck at this

That moment when Draco is a skilled legilimens and just wants some revenge from Potter and some material to tease him with so he decides to take a peak in his mind- "Potter is going to be so embarrassed, I'll know all his secrets-

So he just peaks into his mind and-

Harry sucking and nibbing on Draco's neck, their naked torsos pressed against each other, Harry's lips over Draco's as Draco moans in his mouth, Draco throwing his head back in pleasure as Harry is pressing hot kisses on his sectumsempra scars, Harry's flushed cheeks as Draco is whispering dirty things in his ears.

Draco's eyes are wider because while all of this is going on in Potter's mind he has a poker face while Draco is completely going red and slightly hard-

Dumbledore: You seem to be spending a great amount of time with that Slytherin student—Malfoy.. I was wondering if.. perhaps..

Harry: Malfoy? No, no, of course not.. We’re just friends.

Please de not repost or edit. Reblogs are allowed.

A Lazy Pretence Of A Boy.

“So, you’ve come back to Hogwarts. Our splendid Saviour. The greatest of bloody heroes. Why are you hesitating? Cowering by the door like some first-year Hufflepuff? Enter. You’ve here to gloat, aren’t you, Potter? Here to brag? Here to shove your living, breathing face into mine?”

“No… Mafo- Draco. No. I’m not here to brag. It’s been… It’s been more than ten years. McGonagall asked me to come back. Asked me to talk to you… Your behaviour around the school isn’t acceptable. Appearing in front of the first-years, with half of your skin burnt off? You’re frightening them, Draco. They’re just kids.”

“Just kids? Fuck, but it’s true what the students say. You’ve turned into a spineless Ministry drone! We were just kids, remember? Just kids who fought a war. You were just a kid when you destroyed He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Just a kid when you saved the world. Just a kid when you let me plummet to my death, consumed in the Fiendfyre-”

“And I’m sorry. I’m sorry! I wanted to save you, Draco. That’s why we flew back into the Room… But there was so much smoke. There was so much smoke, and my eyes were stinging, my throat was full of ash, and I could barely see… You hand slipped and then it was too late-”

“Don’t you dare lie! You did it on purpose. You hated me. You wanted me dead. You trapped me here, in these cold stone walls for time without end. The war hasn’t ended for me, Potter, and it never will! I don’t need your sympathy. Go back to Ginevra. Go back to your family, and leave me alone.”

“I didn’t marry Ginny, and I don’t have children... Bloody hell. You’re every bit as melodramatic a ghost as you were alive, drifting through corridors and waiting in dark corners. The war hasn’t ended for me, either! You think I don’t see your face, every day of my life? I hear the silence of your muted scream in every silent room I enter. I feel the lick of those flames in every fireplace-“

“Shut up! Go home! You killed me. Trapped me forever in this dark limbo. There are so many faces, Potter. All of them are getting older… All of them growing, laughing, kissing, fucking! Everything I never had. Everything I was never allowed. My life was naught but pure-blood formality and expectations, snuffed out before it even began-”

“Wouldn’t you rather leave? There’s a ritual. It’s old magic, dark spell work, but I’ve managed it before. You’d be freed from this reality… Finally free of Hogwarts.”

“The Libertatem Mori? I’ve heard tell of it from the other ghosts. They say that it’s as painless as falling asleep, though those insipid fools dare not take the final step.”

“Do you dare, Draco? I wanted to save you when we were boys, but I couldn’t. Give me this, please. Let me save you this time-“

“I’ll never let you save me. The boy I was, when I was alive… He loved you, more than any other on the earth... Everyday he waited for you to see his pain and his torment, but you never did! You were blind to him. Even when he stood before you, in tears, you chose instead to lacerate him. So now I’ll wait here, a hazy pretence of a boy who coveted and craved, diaphanous where once I was flesh. I’ll stay here, in the halls and corridors of your childhood, a cold imitation of a life once lived. Every day you live in this world, I’ll be here, waiting for you to die. Go away now and live. Live the life you denied me.”

Thank you mags for beautiful cover art. ❤

This was written for @gameofdrarry Exploding Snap.

Prompt: Write a Drarry fic of 544-816 words following this prompt: Harry and Draco meet in the Room of Requirement. Why are they meeting? Use only dialogue.

Charming Conflagration

Harry’s on a date with Byron the first time it happens. They flee, chased out by wailing alarms and thick smoke billowing out from the kitchen. 

Draco’s unimpressed. “Must have been an accident, Potter. No need to be melodramatic.”

There’s no second date.

—

Harry’s clothes still reek by the time he slams through the door. 

He waves his arms wildly, ashes floating across Draco. “Michael’s jacket burst into flames in the middle of a rainstorm. I’m cursed! I just know it.”

Harry tries to visit Michael in St Mungo’s, and is turned away, ‘thank you but I’d rather not see you again.’

—

Harry and Margo are in the middle of ordering when the cooler magnificently combusts. Ice cream sublimating into steam from the scorching flames.

“Draco, the frozen ice cream was on fire!” Harry takes in Draco’s bored expression with suspicion.

Margo sends her regrets via owl, apparently flaming desserts are not her idea of a good time.

—

He doesn’t even make it to his date with Chris, as his wardrobe is charred beyond recognition before he can save anything.

Draco laughs shamelessly as Harry describes the blistered wood and scorched wallpaper. “Your clothes were hideous anyway, I’d call this luck.”

Harry swears off dating…until Draco invites him to dinner.

—

Harry palms his wand all night, anxiously awaiting the inferno while Draco watches him with amusement over his wine glass.

They barely make it to the sofa before Harry’s mouth is searing a path across Draco’s jaw. “I know it was you…”

A wicked smile lights up Draco’s face. “I’m certain I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

For the @drarrymicrofic prompt: dust/ash. Thank you to @lou-isfake for being the best buddy and beta. 

Previous microfics.

corpus.

“Do you want to get high?” Draco asks, sharp knees knocking against Harry’s. They’re lying on the worn-down mattress on Draco's floor— a relic of a thing Harry admires for not just giving up and bursting— staring up at the cracks patterned like lightning on the ceiling.

“No.” He reconsiders. “I mean yeah, obviously, but no, can’t. There’s this— thing in two hours. Have to be there and I can’t show up—" he gestures at the air. “Y’know.”

“I know,” Draco clumsily pats Harry’s forehead. “Oh, I know.”

There’s a touch of condescension there, and Harry knows Draco well enough to hear everything he isn’t saying— I know you don’t want to go, I know you want to stay with me in my shitty apartment, I know you don’t talk about me to them at these things. There’s a version of Harry, lying somewhere in a ditch on the highway between who he was and who he is, who’d tear Draco apart for those insinuations. This version sighs a little and pokes him in one pointy shoulder.

“Hannah probably won’t understand the urge to stay holed up in here with my disreputable stoner boyfriend instead of attending her birthday party." He means it as a joke, it falls very flat. "I’m sorry.”

“You keep assuming,” Draco says, drawled and posh, despite the mould growing in the corner of the room, “that you need to justify yourself. You live your own life, Potter, I stake no claims on it.”

They say nothing for a while.

“Muggles have this thing,” Harry says eventually, breaking the silence. “The share market. Stocks.”

“Stocks.”

“Yeah. Hermione explained it to me. It was complicated and most of it went over my head but, but it all boiled down to— ownership, really. You— buy out parts of a company and you own those parts till you sell them. I think? I guess. The more you own, the more decision making power you have. Or something like that.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“It’s— whatever, if I was a company, you’d own— fifty eight percent of my stocks.”

Draco’s looking at him like he’s lost his mind. And alright, that’s fair, but he’s trying here. He needs Draco to— understand. Swallows. Realises he cares a little too much about how well Draco understands this.

“You own,” he begins, swallowing again, Merlin, he’s parched, “fifty eight percent of me. Most of me. So much of me, Draco. I’ve never given myself over— like this. To someone else. But there’s a remaining thirty— no, Merlin, should have taken Arithmancy— forty two percent? That they still own. Ron and Hermione and Ginny and Neville and Luna and—” He gestures at the air again. Doesn’t turn to look at the softly breathing body next to his.

“Corporation,” Draco says slowly, words rounded without the razor sharp edge of before. “Corporare. Corpus. Corpus means body, do you know that? That’s the root of these entities, the body.” His hand, fine-boned and blunt-nailed, cards through Harry’s hair. “I own fifty eight percent. They own forty two. How much of your body do you own, Harry?”

“I don’t—”

“You don’t?”

They lie in silence again, the gentle scratch of Draco’s nails against his scalp a monotone soundtrack to their thoughts.

“Pansy bought me a book on anatomy once,” Draco says conversationally after long minutes have passed. “It was kind of awful. And I was thinking about making some grand statement about how you own the percentage of me that my heart weighs, but that’s about—? 0.69%? Which isn’t a declaration at all, it’s actually kind of offensive. So I thought of adding in the percentage of blood, which is about 10%, but even that sounds ridiculous.”

He pauses. His hand stills in Harry’s hair for a beat too long before starting up again. “What you own—” he clears his throat. “You own my thoughts, Harry. And they can’t measure that. Every time you walk out, you own my grief. Every time you stay, you own my joy. I can’t measure it, Harry, but immeasurable and infinite are synonyms.”

“I’m not going,” Harry says, sitting up. “I’m not going to Hannah’s stupid party, Draco, fuck it, I’m not—”

Draco just stares up at him. “42%,” he says after a second too long of silence.

Harry laughs. It’s wild, maybe a little hysterical. “Fuck it,” he says again, looking down at Draco’s flushed cheeks. “Yours. All yours.”

written for the @drarrymicrofic prompt: my girl has four cats and a sonos speaker system. i have no idea how it went to the weird places it did, but oh well.

me: *bumps into a mannequin in a shop*

me: sorry