Reblog And Put In The Tags How Many Songs Youve Liked On Spotify .

Reblog and put in the tags how many songs you’ve liked on Spotify .

1:24am

the third and final installment of this random ass series, hope yall like it ❤️

part 1 & part 2

find this one here on ao3

rating: pg word count: 1550

Draco lives in a posh little townhouse with a garden out front and pretentious coffee-snob neighbours next door. There’s a delicate wind chime and a bronze knocker on the door. It’s all very him. 

Earlier, after winning the final match which would take England to the Cup, he’d rowed with Janae. Not rowed, really — Janae isn’t a fighter. Her emotional intelligence is on par with Hermione, so much so that Harry suspects the two of them will stay friends after all this. He’d told her with aching sincerity that his heart wasn’t in it, and she’d said “I know” and “You need to talk to him,” and then she’d told him her heart was broken and she hoped he’d figure his shit out before he did it to someone else, and she’d made it worse by hugging him before she left.

Harry uses his knuckles instead of the bronze knocker. He waits three minutes, and then five minutes, and then he uses the stupid thing. 

Five minutes, seven minutes, and he sits down on the steps out front. 

Nine minutes, the door opens. Harry turns around and sees Draco in his pyjamas, peering sleepily down at him in the dim light of a lantern next to the door. In spite of everything, Harry smiles. 

“What the fuck, Harry?” he says tiredly. 

Standing, Harry says, “I’m here to talk.”

“Well I don’t want to talk.”

“I love you,” says Harry bluntly. His heart is clogging his throat and Draco’s just staring at him in his pyjamas, as pale as the moon and expressionless.

Then he says, in a very tight voice: “Harry.”

“Is Kit here?”

A pause in which Harry doesn’t think he’ll answer, but then he says, a little hesitantly, “No.”

“Can I come in a minute?”

“Harry,” he says again, this time like a warning. “What are you doing?”

“Being honest,” he says. “Finally. I think you already know. I can never really tell.”

Draco’s face softens then and he looks at the floor, and then back at Harry. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “I know.” Harry swallows and nods at him. And his heart sinks a bit, because it doesn’t sound promising. Quite the opposite, in fact; he doesn’t cry often, but he thinks maybe later on he will. Maybe soon.

“Was kind of hoping you might reciprocate the sentiment,” he jokes lamely. His hands find his pockets. “But you don’t. Do you.”

“Why are you doing this?” Draco asks again.

“Can you just answer the question?” Harry steps up onto the landing and Draco watches him warily but doesn’t move back or away from him.

After several moments, he says, “I don’t know. I did.”

Harry frowns. “Did.”

“Yes,” says Draco, “did. Used to. When we were shagging all the time last year.” His mouth tightens and he crosses his arms in a self-protective gesture. “I was completely in love with you, idiot. And you never … you never said anything, you never seemed to feel the same way, so then I —”

“Started dating Mateo,” Harry finishes for him as it clicks into place for himself.

“Yes,” says Draco softly. “And when I stopped dating him we didn’t go back to … I thought we’d moved past it. I thought we were settling with just friends.”

“You just said you knew I loved you.”

“Yeah, well, I realised at some point,” Draco explains with a modest shrug that’s uncharacteristic of him. “And every time I thought about bringing it up I got all panicked and convinced myself I should just leave it be and let you move on and we’d be better as friends. And I thought …” He frowns at Harry deeply. “I kind of thought we had an understanding.”

“An understanding?” Harry echoes blankly. 

“Sometimes I thought … like, that we both knew,” he says. “That we were … tacitly ignoring it.” He looks between Harry’s eyes and there’s something heartbreaking about the tilt of his eyebrows. Vaguely, he says, “I don’t want us to ruin this.”

Harry thinks he understands, and it makes his stomach ache, but he still asks, “Ruin what?”

“Harry, come on,” Draco says impatiently. “Us, in a relationship? The chances of it not ending catastrophically are one in six hundred billion and when that happens, what then? Hm?” His eyebrows lift, and Harry’s startled to see that Draco’s eyes are a little wet. “I want you in my life.”

It takes Harry a moment to process what exactly Draco’s just said, and what he means by it, because no, that particular concern had never even occurred to him once. Quietly, he asks, “You think we’d have that little chance of making it?”

“Harry, fuck, it’s one in the morning,” Draco says, sounding more desperate than tired. “Please don’t make me do this.”

“I know we’d make it,” Harry says. He feels desperate himself. “And if we don’t do this now we never will. You’re —” he gestures widely with his hand, “planning on moving in with Kit, he’s introducing you to his family, for Merlin’s sake.”

“I haven’t decided if I’m moving in with him yet,” says Draco quietly, like he knows that’s not the point. 

“I broke up with Janae,” Harry tells him. Draco puts a hand to his forehead. 

“What, for me?”

“Maybe,” says Harry. “If that’s what you want. If not, then … I dunno, for me, I guess. For her. I wasn’t in love with her. I’m in love with you. And I need to know, one way or the other, if you feel the same way.”

“Harry —”

“And don’t say that shit again about us breaking up eventually,” says Harry, “because it’s a piss-poor excuse not to do something. I love you. Do you love me?”

Draco looks at him, chewing on his lip. He looks so vulnerable, so soft in his night clothes, one side drooping off a pale shoulder, his hair in slight disarray. In this moment Harry thinks that love is such a strange and chaotic emotion, an abstract, totally intangible thing that makes you show up on someone’s doorstep in the middle of the night begging for — demanding — clean answers to murky things. Like a cup of strong tea, it might leave you all warm and fuzzy and satisfied in the end, or it might just leave you with some dregs at the bottom of the mug that mean absolutely nothing, no matter how many different angles you use to try and analyse it.

After a long silence Draco finally reaches out and he touches Harry’s jaw with his fingertips, and he only has to lean in slightly for Harry to grab onto that thread and tug. He pulls him in by the back of the neck and kisses him, hard and messy and grateful, and he takes advantage when Draco opens his mouth to slide his tongue in. It feels like it’s been forever instead of a year and some change and the nails biting into his cheek tell him he’s not alone in feeling that way. The thirst flares and then tapers slowly, and Harry’s thinking he could never drink his fill when Draco pushes him back with a hand on his chest.

“You’re a troglodyte,” Draco announces with his wet, red mouth. Harry blinks at him. “Of course I love you. And fuck you for taking so fucking long to get there.”

“I deserve that,” Harry allows, grinning suddenly, but when he tries to go back in for another kiss Draco stops him with another hand on his chest.

“I’m not a bloody cheater,” says Draco. “I’m still dating someone.”

Harry’s stomach drops.

“Draco …” he says, letting the name carry everything unsaid within it, his pleading and vulnerability and fear.

“I’ll … talk to him. Tomorrow.” He rolls his eyes. “Today.”

“Meaning?”

“What do you think, Potter?”

Harry chances a renewed grin that’s fueled by the twitch at the corner of Draco’s lips. Fuck, he’s lighter than air — searching for the Snitch at twenty-thousand feet during the Cup couldn’t give him this feeling.

“Fuck, I love you,” he says.

Draco’s indulgent little smile disappears and then suddenly his arms are around Harry’s neck and his shoulder is in Harry’s face and there’s a brand-new lump in Harry’s throat as he reciprocates the hug with his arms tight about Draco’s waist. He closes his eyes and inhales his smell and holds onto him, clings to him greedily, and when Draco burrows into his neck Harry feels the wetness of tears. They stand there like that for long minutes in the moonlight with the chimes tinkling and their bodies pressed together so tightly they can each feel the other’s heart beating.

“Alright, go home,” says Draco when he finally pulls away. “Twat. I’ll come see you tomorrow after I’ve talked to Kit.”

“Will he take it hard, do you think?”

“Oh, fuck off, like you care. I thought he was an idiot.”

Harry insists, “I do care,” and though he does, truly, his big stupid grin doesn’t do anything to prove it. 

“Go home,” Draco says again, one hand already on his door.

“Let me stay.”

“No,” says Draco flatly. “I don’t trust you.”

“That’s rude.”

“Go home.”

“Fine,” says Harry. “I love you.”

“Yes, the whole neighbourhood knows now.” And after a pause, “I love you too.”

He gives Harry a look, something that silently calls him a moron but affectionately, and after the door closes and Harry leaps down the stairs like a teenager with too much energy, he glances at his wrist and grins curiously at the watch face that tells him it’s 1:24am.

tuck a cloud up under my chin

for the @drarrymicrofic prompt “lullaby”. the lullaby here is an actual song that i used to sing at summer camp- i couldn’t find a recorded version that’s sung that way i know it, but it’s a really beautiful and almost haunting melody. wc 304, rated G, no warnings. thanks to @lou-isfake for lookin over this!

“Bed is too small for my tiredness…”

“Hm?” Harry murmurs as he blinks into consciousness, his eyes adjusting to the darkness of the room. He’s wrapped in warmth, and as he shifts a gentle hand comes up to cradle his cheek.

“Shhh,” Draco whispers, and Harry immediately settles back down into his husband's arms. “You were restless, I’m just singing. Go back to sleep.”

“‘Kay,” Harry whispers back. He tucks his nose into the crook of Draco’s neck, drifting back to a half-sleep as Draco’s hums low in his throat and pulls Harry closer. After a few moments of quiet, Harry shifts again. “Will you keep singing?”

“Oh,” Draco says softly. “Yes, alright.” He clears his throat as though embarrassed. Perhaps he is– Harry has only ever heard him sing along to the radio. Not like this, in the tender darkness of their room, his only accompaniment the hush of the winter wind outside.

“Give me a hillside of trees,” Draco sings, his voice low and wavering but true on the lilting notes. “Tuck a cloud up under my chin. Lord, blow the moon out please.”

“Where’d you learn this?” Harry asks against Draco’s skin.

“Hmm. My mother. It’s an old Muggle song, I think. She told me it was our secret.”

“‘S nice,” Harry says, heavy with sleep, and Draco exhales a soft laugh.

“There’s another verse.” Draco clears his throat again, singing along the same melody as before. “Rock me to sleep in a cradle of dreams. Sing me a lullaby of leaves. Tuck a cloud up under my chin. Lord, blow the moon out please.”

A realization coalesces in Harry’s mind, tender and lovely. “Do you always sing to me when I have nightmares?”

“I– I do,” Draco says softly, and Harry pulls him close, wrapped up in this gentle love.

Draco: My husband and I have decided to never sleep being angry with each other.

Harry: We've been awake since Friday.

Draco: WELL IF SOMEONE COULD AGREE THEY WERE WRONG-

we get used to it.

does it really get better? or do we just get used to it?

i need you to continue this 😭😭😭

I can see you

For @drarrymicrofic prompt : Beguile. Thank @cluelesspigeons for beta reading 🥰

Harry couldn't help but laugh so hard in the dorm. His sixth year couldn't be any more entertaining since Slughorn took Snape's place as Potions Master and since Harry had the Half-Blood Prince's book. 

Seamus, Dean, Neville, Ron and Harry had all  taken a potion that could change their gender and now the five 'girls' were laughing at their appearances. Ron was surprisingly beautiful with long, wavy hair. He looked a little like Ginny. Neville and Seamus were the most astonished with their thin body and short hair and with the appropriate outfits they could have both girls and boys at their feet! Dean was cute. His skin was darker but also glowing. His dark curly hair fell down his back to his waist. Harry could see the appeal. 

Harry didn't know what he looked like. The potion made it so only other people saw him as a girl.He was still a boy in his own eyes, but if the glitter in Ron's eyes when he checked on him was anything to go by, he wasn’t that bad-looking. 

"How long are we going to be like this?" Neville asked timidly. "It's almost been an hour and I don't want to look like that tomorrow morning at breakfast!" 

"Oh come on, Nev. It's fun! I really want to see Hermione's face!" Ron exclaimed.

"Guys, let's go see the girls!" Dean said as he got up from his bed. 

"I’ve got a better idea! We should try the girls' stares!" Seamus exclaimed. 

All the boys laughed and before they knew it, they were in the common room. Hermione was talking with Ginny on the couch when suddenly their faces dropped. 

"What are you doing? Ron? Why do all the other boys look like girls?" Hermione asked as she raised an eyebrow. 

"What? You can see me?” Ron asked. ”Oh man, that’s no fun!" 

"What are you talking about, Hermione?” Ginny asked. ”Ron looks really weird! He has long hair, longer than mine!" She looked at the other boys.. "All of them are like girls! Dean, is that you? Damn you're hot!" 

Harry snorted. It was weird that only Hermione could see Ron but the faces in the common room were brilliant. Everyone was laughing. 

But then Lavender got mad at Ron because she saw him as a girl and she thought it too weird. 

Time passed and after a while everyone got to bed. Only Ginny, Hermione and Harry stayed on the couch. 

"Why am I the only one who could still see Ron as… Ron?” Hermione suddenly asked. ”What kind of potion did you drink?" 

"I don't know the exact name—" Harry started but Hermione slapped him on his shoulder "Hey! It wasn’t my idea! It was Seamus’s! He found it in a book and brewed it for us!" 

"You're lucky it wasn't poisonous! What’s the name Harry?!" 

Harry closed his eyes and thought about it. 

"Armor liquid? It's something like that. I'm sorry Hermio—" But Hermione was already on her feet. "What are you doing?" 

"What do you think? She's going to the only place possible!" Ginny laughed. 

"The library,” they all said in unison. 

Harry left the girls after that and went to bed. It had been a good night of laughter.

The potion was still effective in the morning and the boys were now panicking in the dorm. Only Harry thought it was still funny. 

"We can't possibly go to class like this!" Neville lamented. "What will people think of us?"

"And how can I look at Ginny now?" Dean whined. 

"Stop whining, Dean! You're the fittest guy we know and you're dating my sister!"

Harry got dressed. The house elves had gotten  them all girl uniforms during the night, as if they knew about that potion. The feeling of having a skirt was weird. No wonder that girls could feel eyes on them all day. The length of the skirt was astonishingly short. Harry could feel the cold between his legs and as he walked through the halls felt boys staring at him. 

It was worse when they arrived at the Great Hall. Harry could literally feel, see and hear the people talking about all five of them. 

"Is this how you feel all the time, mate?" Ron asked, blushing. "No wonder you hate the attention!" 

Harry snorted before he was grabbed by the wrist and got dragged all the way to the Gryffindor table. 

"Harry, tell me again about the name of the potion!" Hermione demanded, her face all serious. 

"I don't know. Amore… something... Hey, Seamus!" Harry looked at the girl and people stopped talking around them. "What's the name of the potion we took last night?" 

"Liquidum amorem. Why?" 

Hermione opened the book she had placed onto the table , her hand squeezing Harry's wrist tightly. He looked at her. There were sleeping bags under her eyes. She was wearing the same clothes as last night. And her hair was all over the place. Did she even sleep?. 

"Hermione, it's just a stupid potion,” Harry said. “I'm sure we'll turn into boys again, if it is worrying you." 

"Maybe Miss Pomfrey knows the antidote. We should go to the Hospi—" 

"Liquidum Amorem is a powerful love potion,” Hermione started.  "Commonly known as 'Love liquid', its effect changed the gender of the person drinking the potion. Everyone will be beguiled by them and see them as the opposite gender except—" 

"Oi Potter! What did you do with your gang? Why are they looking like girls?"Malfoy asked mockingly. "And why are you dressed like one whilst you look like usual? Did you lose your wig?" 

"—for your soulmate’s eyes'" Hermione finished in a whisper.