Draco Malfoy X Harry Potter - Tumblr Posts
Harry and Draco high-fiving each other after making a dad joke while their kids collectively groan
Harry Potter and the Secret Admirer
Author: Anonymous
For: @eletriptan
Pairings: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Word Count: 3,564
Rating: Teen & up
Content: Courtship, First Dates, Hogwarts Professors, Fluff, 5+1 Things
Warnings: None
Summary:
Harry has been receiving gifts. From who he doesn’t know, but Filius has told him that the gifts are a way of courting. He now has five days to figure out who his admirer is and to decide whether he wants to meet them and go on a date.
Read it now on AO3!
⛄️ This work is part of H/D Mistletoe, a Gay Wizard Boys server gift exchange. Please help spread the love by sharing your favourite works and leaving kudos and comments. If you would like to join the GWB, you can do so with this link: here. 🌨
Banner image: here
Greetings!
A longtime reader, I’ve finally mustered up the courage to write my first-ever work of fanfiction:
Only Connect (25k)
Harry is a dark-wizard catcher. Seven years after the war, nearly all of Lord Voldemort’s followers have been captured, tried, and imprisoned. Or else, presumed dead. There isn’t much left to do for an Auror whose glory days are behind him. Isn’t that what Rita Skeeter wrote in her latest column, that Harry Potter has become irrelevant?
Meanwhile… Lucius Malfoy and his son have turned themselves in. The question in the newspaper and on Harry’s mind is: Why now?
Hope you enjoy reading it!
Aaaaah I’m official!!!!!!
2022.11.08
Complete fics posted on AO3 this day
1. Only Connect by @innoodlewetrust [T, 25k]
►Harry is a dark-wizard catcher. Seven years after the war, nearly all of Lord Voldemort’s followers have been captured, tried, and imprisoned. Or else, presumed dead. There isn’t much left to do for an Auror whose glory days are behind him. Isn’t that what Rita Skeeter wrote in her latest column, that Harry Potter has become irrelevant?
Hi sweet! Would you be able to recommend some post war fics where Harry isn’t friends with Ron and hermione anymore? Thank you!!
Hello nonnie! I can’t figure out the exact tag to search for the theme you asked. I hope my lovely followers can help you :)
—
ETA: Thank you guys for your fic recs ♥
1. Coming Home by @myaulophobia [M, 47k]
►Harry Potter gets up and walks out of his friends’ house after recieving a text message and isn’t seen again. In trying to find him, his friends have to face some unpleasant truths. Harry, meanwhile, is trying to get on with his life having escaped everything to be with the man he loves. ~ 2020.07 - From of Hiding series
2. I Do What I Want by @xx-thedarklord-xx [E, 508k]
► There are worse things out there than Voldemort. The dead man had been just one delusional guy. What will Harry do when he has to face not just one new Dark Lord but three? ~ 2017.04 - From The I Do series
3. Only Connect by @innoodlewetrust [T, 25k]
►Harry is a dark-wizard catcher. Seven years after the war, nearly all of Lord Voldemort’s followers have been captured, tried, and imprisoned. Or else, presumed dead. There isn’t much left to do for an Auror whose glory days are behind him. Isn’t that what Rita Skeeter wrote in her latest column, that Harry Potter has become irrelevant? ~ 2022.11
4. The Ties that Bind by phoenix_writing [?, 60k]
►Upon Andromeda’s death, Harry and Draco are given custody of Teddy. Their lives will never be the same again. ★ H/D Holidays 2012
5. Will you be my daddy? by SasuNarufan13 [E, 190k]
► After Draco divorced from Daphne, Scorpius is set on finding a second daddy, because Draco told him he only loves men. He has even made a list. Then he meets Harry and he’s dead set on getting him as a second daddy. Will he succeed? ~ 2013.10 - From of Difficulties in love series
—
✔ masterlist
My fic has been out for a whole month. Thank you to everyone who left kudos and kind words in the comments <3
I also had a lot of fun making a playlist for the story that I listened to while writing.
Greetings!
A longtime reader, I’ve finally mustered up the courage to write my first-ever work of fanfiction:
Only Connect (25k)
After seven years on the run, of successfully evading the Aurors, Lucius Malfoy and his son have turned themselves in. The question in the newspaper and on Harry’s mind is: Why?
Hope you enjoy reading it!
by InNoodleWeTrust
Harry is a dark-wizard catcher. Seven years after the war, nearly all of Lord Voldemort’s followers have been captured, tried, and imprisoned. Or else, presumed dead. There isn’t much left to do for an Auror whose glory days are behind him. Isn’t that what Rita Skeeter wrote in her latest column, that Harry Potter has become irrelevant?
Words: 2740, Chapters: 1/9, Language: English
Fandoms: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Categories: M/M
Characters: Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Lucius Malfoy, Andromeda Black Tonks
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Additional Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Mystery, Friendship, Romance, Travel, Post-War, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism
History repeats itself
(Maybe next time I'll draw with actual colouring and not sketch😔)
Pansy : *complaining how Malfoy always complaining about harry to her* i swear to merlin i’m gonna use a curse on him next time he complain about Potter.
Blaise : Use Erecto
Pansy : Why should I us---
Blaise : To straighten him back.
Pansy :
Blaise :
Pansy :
Imagine #1
Imagine Ginny greeted Harry after he came back home from work and realized that he smells slightly different along with his shirt. ‘‘did you change your shirt, Harry?’‘ asked Ginny. Harry looked away for a moment and awkwardly answered ‘‘Oh..er Yea I did ‘‘
Ginny just stared at him as she was suspecting something but stopped after Harry made up an excuse saying he spilled his coffee on himself by accident. Then Ginny just let out a laugh and everything was fine until Albus came into the living room and destroy the peace with just one line.
‘‘ Hey dad, Isn’t that Mr Malfoy’s shirt? I saw Mr Malfoy wore it this morning“
and the same thing happened at the Malfoys.
Imagine #3
Teddy was planning to scare scorpius and albus away so he changed himself into Draco Malfoy and walked to search for them. On his way searching for scorbus, someone pulled him in one of the empty classroom and pinned him to the wall. “You’ve been a bad boy, Malfoy” said the voice
Teddy pushed him and ran out of shock as soon he recognised the voice. When Harry walked out the room, he saw Draco, the real Draco was walking towards him with a questionable expression. “What is it? ”
“No, why did you ran away? ”
“I didnt potter. I just got here. Why? ”
Harry’s eye turned wide as soon he realised the person he just pinned to the wall earlier.
This is so sad bUT SO BEAUTIFUL
Rotten Work
a tiny draco/harry ficlet i found in my drafts. read on ao3.
content/warnings: second person pov, angst, hurt/comfort, implied/referenced ptsd, crying
You start to cry after the war.
You tell Ron and Hermione that it's nothing, that it'll pass. You're just exhausted. It’s more than that, of course it is, but they don't question it. And you learn to hide the fact that you can still be found hunched over your kitchen sink after a party, fat tears rolling down your face, years after the war has passed.
He knows better.
He comes to you when you're in the kitchen. It's long past midnight, hours after the last Ministry gala. Somewhere in your flat, the calendar reads May 3rd.
The lights are off. You're making tea. Water boils loudly on the stove, its bubbles popping against the rim of the pot—gunshots in a quiet room. Blue-orange fire flickers underneath, too hot, too bright, illuminating you. Illuminating him, too.
He's quiet for you. He wants to say something. (Why don't let me make it, instead?). He doesn't because he knows you don't want him to, don't need him to. (Come lay down with me). You like that. You like that he knows that. You like that he likes you in the dark. (Let me take care of you). You like him in the dark, too.
You think about using tea bags but you need to move, to do more, to get lost in the mindless routine of pour and stir and steep and strain. He helps. It's one less spoon for you to take, one less handle for you to grab, one less jar for you to open. All you do is pourstirsteepstrain
His arm is a steady warmth against your own. It's a comfort. Your head feels heavy, stuffed with cotton. You can feel it, whatever’s been brewing within you these past few days, in your throat, thick, like the tears hanging on the precipice of your lash line. But, he’s there. He’s warm. He’s a comfort.
There's a mug in your hands, now. Full, smooth ceramic that leaves your fingertips scorched. His lips are at the shell of your ear, his words a sharp whisper: “Tell me.”
They pierce you, more so than the steam under your nose, because sometimes you still can't believe that someone wants to know you like this. That someone wants you like this. That someone wants you. In the dark, too quiet, tea made but thoughts still brewing.
You can't answer him just yet, so you take a sip of tea instead. It scalds your taste buds. You take another sip, then another, until you can taste again, until all you can focus on is the warm trail it draws from your throat to the pit of your stomach. It’s bitter. Over-steeped. You usually take your tea sweet, but today is not a day for milk and sugar.
He turns to you, body sloping forward into your own, his molten-metal eyes a weight on your shoulders. You consider turning towards him. You turn off the stove, instead. Its fire putters out quickly, phantom heat the only reminder that it was ever there. It's not the only ghost in the room.
“Harry,” he says, insistent now, but his voice has no bite. You memorized his mouth back when you both were in school. You know it’s all sharp lines and gleaming teeth but, for you, it's turned soft.
You give in, finally, and crane your neck towards him. It’s somewhat of an ache, the muscles sore and unused, under stretched, unfamiliar with this kind of undiluted attention. It’s hard to meet his eyes, to surrender to his gaze, which always leaves you feeling flayed open. Can he see it, what you’re thinking? You’ve never been talkative, but when he looks at you like this, intent, as if he’s trying to soak you, all of you, in... you want to tell him.
You want to kiss him. You entertain the idea for a split-second and imagine inching forward until you're impossibly close. Close enough to feel his breaths like a balm on your skin, to feel the heat of him through the thin fabric of your shirt, to feel a strand of his hair fall into your eyes—as if it belongs to you. You imagine pressing forward. Your lips meeting his, his hands in your hair, on your skin. You almost do it. He’s so close. You want to leave traces of tea on his lips.
He asks you again, though, flashes his cream teeth around a voice like burnt sugar. And when he’s this close, you can’t resist. You bend your head towards his, and spill your thoughts—bitter, over-steeped—into the arch of his cheekbone. Your tears slosh over, slip over his skin, drip into his mouth. He swallows them whole. Your secrets, now his.
More Signs of Love
Draco’s hands hurt, too much to move them, too much to sign his words. He looked at Harry with an expression of pure misery, and resigned himself to having to use actual words to express his emotions. His throat ached at the mere thought.
He didn’t want to. Didn’t want to speak. What was the point of using words he couldn’t hear? Saying things that had no meaning? But there is was no other way for him to communicate his wants and needs to Harry. At least not at this moment in time.
Except there was. And Harry being Harry showed him. So, before Draco could use his words, or push past the pain of regrowing bones to force his hands to sign words, Harry did something that turned Draco’s world upside down and inside out.
Harry lowered the wards around his mind, dropped them all of them all at once, every single layer of protection. He silently and without so much as a warning bared his mind and soul to Draco, giving it to him for the taking, presenting it on a silver platter.
And because Draco was an extremely skilled Legilimens, he felt it, felt the protective walls crumble. Draco felt the tug, felt the almost irresistible desire to explore but he resolutely held back, refused to enter Harry’s mind, even though it was right there, open and vulnerable.
He shook his head, closed his eyes.
But Harry’s hands cupped his cheeks, caressed him with such love. Harry simply held his face in a tender embrace. Draco’s eyes opened of their own accord but he couldn’t stop blinking furiously to try and combat the urge to cry. It was all too much, too overwhelming.
He drew in a shaky breath and when Harry smiled encouragingly, Draco’s heart stuttered to a halt.
“It’s okay, my love, I want you to.”
Draco couldn’t tell whether Harry was only moving his lips, mouthing the words or whether there was sound involved, but he didn’t care, couldn’t focus.
Harry opened his mind a little further and when he leant in to press a soft and lingering kiss to Draco’s forehead, Draco felt himself slip. He entered Harry’s mind, drawn inside by the gentle invitation and the sweetness of Harry’s kiss, and closing his eyes, he focused.
Hello my love, there you are.
Harry’s voice rang in Draco’s head and a wretched sob tore itself from the very centre of Draco’s core. He could hear Harry, could hear the sound of his voice, the tenderness with which he spoke, the deep warmth and care he infused his words with, the love and kindness, the goodness of it all.
Draco cried and his body shook with it, the sensations, the experience of sharing a mental link with Harry, of actually hearing his voice for the first time ever, it was too much. Half of Draco wanted to pull away, to cut the connection and reinforce his own walls, but he couldn’t, didn’t have the strength to leave this newly-found haven.
Talk to me, talk to me, talk to me, he thought, knowing that he sounded desperate. I beg you talk to me. Never stop. Talk to me. Draco wept as he spoke.
Harry’s warm and amused laughter thrummed through Draco’s veins, set him alive.
Let me tell you a story, my love.
Draco prayed to every deity in existence that Harry would tell him a never-ending story because there was no hope in hell he’d ever be able to get enough of hearing Harry’s voice, even if it wasn’t actually real.
I can't belive that for most ppl Drrary makes more sense than Blairon like I get the enemies to lovers
but like drrary's enemies doesn't make too much sense, Draco hated Harry because he didn't want to be his fried //'cause draco was an ars// and 'cause his family belive in voldemort's bulshit;
BUT Blaise and Ron both came form old wisarding families & had extremely opposit belives and were vocal about it //well Ron was, Blaise not as much but u get the point//
I feel like Blairon just makes sense
Same for Dron (Draco/Ron) to be honest
s w e a t e r w e a t h e r
fandom- Harry Potter
pairing(s)- Draco Malfoy
a/n: so this one is based on a situation I've been in which had me bawling, crying and literally dying. I also saw something similar on Pinterest and I thought why not? requests are always open, love, teddy
requested- yes
warnings- none i hope
You found yourself in the edge of the black lake sprawled on a fuzzy blanket with all sorts of delights, giggling and laughing with a blonde Slytherin over something absolutley preposterous, the idea or to be more specific, the rumors between you and a Malfoy.
The evening was crisp already, the last of sunset just a fading pale stripe in the sky. Evening shadows deepened into blue and purple. the wind was icy and withering, it sent chills down your back.
"c'mon, its almost time for bed luv"
love. love? did he just call me love? am I okay?
"yeah, let's head back" you assented.
a cold wind swept past the both of you, Draco's eyes bumped together in a scowl and his nystagmic eyes hadn't missed anything. All he was waiting for was an ask and maybe a pretty please too.
"would it be alright if i borrow your sweater?"
their eyes my god, as if I'd say no, fuckin damn
"it would be more than alright sweetheart"
fuck. sweetheart? is he tryna kill me? what does he want? oh god
His fingers gripped the ends of the sweater covering his abdomen and quickly pulled his sweater of green and silver and handed it to her.
it was loose to say the least, but you loved it almost as much as he loved seeing you in it. it smelt of mahogany apples which he loved so much.
Draco towered over, trying to roll the sleeves for you, and grabbed your palm and began to walk as if he wasn't absolutley panicking inside.
"it smells like you"