ActorPotter

(Image Description Below) ** As Draco closed the door to the kitchen, he leaned his back against the door and closed his eyes. He stood there for a few seconds, allowing the solid wood to hold him in place as he tried to calm his racing heart with some deep breaths. Emotions were hard for Draco. All of them. Sometimes they were so overwhelming he couldn’t even understand what they were, where they were coming from or why they were screaming SO loudly…

When he’d read Harry’s words…his “declaration” of sorts, Draco couldn’t believe it at first. He thought his eyes were blurring the letters and confusing him, but the look of clear vulnerability on Harry’s face made him realize that he’d made no mistake. Harry had purposefully illusioned the titles to become the letters he needed to tell Draco that he…he loved him.

Draco smiled, the thought of Harry loving him sent shivers of warmth and pleasure up and down his spine. He’d also been thinking…the way their friendship had been developing since 8th year and the last few months since living together…Draco had often wondered if Harry also felt butterflies in his stomach when they both lay on the couch, legs grazing each other as they listened to Quidditch games live on the wireless. Or if Harry also got goosebumps watching him walk from the bathroom to his bedroom with only a towel wrapped around his waist. He had wondered if…no, he had hoped Harry also felt that extra layer of connection between them, that sense of “all will be well” and “this just feels right” when they were together. Despite the certainty in his feelings for Harry, Draco couldn’t stop the barrage of doubts and worries flooding his mind. This must be some elaborate prank. He can’t possibly love me…it took so much for us to just become friends; how could I possibly entertain the idea that he could really…actually… love me?

Draco shook his head before the thoughts could get too loud and start spiraling. “He loves me.” Draco said aloud, testing the words in his mouth, and opened his eyes. His gaze immediately landed on the coffee machine. Right, coffee! Draco thought.

(Image Description Below) ** “So you’ve never played before? Not once?” Harry knew the answer. He was only stalling. Draco and Harry were sitting on the living room floor of their shared flat, a soft carpet underneath them and couch pillows around them for support. A fire crackled in the fireplace, filling the room with a steady warmth and a relaxing home-sweet-home kind of feeling. On most other nights, at least. Hopefully Harry’s voice wasn’t too shaky and wouldn’t give him away before he had a chance to—

“Nope. You know we didn’t have any Muggle games around the house growing up.”

“Ah. Right.”

Harry held the top of the cloth bag securely closed and shook it, mixing the Scrabble tiles inside. He offered the bag to Draco and said, “Close your eyes and pick seven letters.”

Draco did as he was told. When he was finished, Harry retrieved his own letters, making a little bit of a show of giving the tiles an extra mix before picking out seven. Not that it matters anyway, he thought, biting his lip. He picked out seven tiles and placed them on the tile rack in front of him.

“And now I try and make a word out of this, right?”

(Image description below) ** Harry was sitting underneath the Christmas tree, admiring all the beautiful presents that had been collecting there over the past couple of weeks. A bright red package with white string caught his eye, and Harry reached out to grab it, placing it in his lap. He traced his fingers along the smooth paper and played with the strings a little before shaking it gently once. ~thump~

Harry grinned. He had no idea what could be inside, but knowing Draco…

“And what do you think you’re doing?”

Harry turned around to see Draco standing in the doorway to the living room, his arms folded in mock-sternness but the twinkle in his eyes gave him away.

“Not peeking at your presents, are you?” Draco raised an eyebrow and clucked his tongue in playful disapproval...

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Word count: 463 CW: mentions of bondage and light power play **

Image Description (Early Bird Prompt O):

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Word count: 857 ** Harry pushed one of the great oak doors open and was immediately greeted by a burst of crisp December air to the face.  “Thank, Merlin,” Harry muttered, shutting the door firmly behind him. Harry took a deep breath, savoring the chill in his lungs for a moment before exhaling. He was watching the misty cloud of his breath float out and upwards when a small movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention.

He saw the silhouette of someone walking towards the lake, their wand outstretched in front of them, its tip lit up like a torch.  

Even in the growing darkness, Harry knew exactly who the man was. How could he not? He’d spent over seven years watching Draco Malfoy.

I Do Not Strut

Word count: 162

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“I can’t believe how stubborn you can be sometimes, Potter—”

“Me?! That’s rich, coming from someone whose holier-than-thou attitude hasn’t changed since the day I met them.”

Malfoy scoffed. “’Holier-than-thou’ attitude?”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “Come on now, don’t pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about. You strut around like you own the place—doesn’t even matter where we are! First Hogwarts, now the ministry…”

“I do not strut.”

Harry let out a loud guffaw. “Malfoy, I can assure you that you do in fact strut. Sometimes I can’t even tell the difference between you and one of those pretentious white peacocks you grew up with.”

It was Malfoy’s turn to narrow his eyes. He stood there for a few moments, trying to speak, but his mouth just kept opening and closing like a gaping goldfish. Finally, Draco snapped his mouth shut, turned on his heel and stomped away, the snow crunching loudly underneath his boots with every step…

Summary: Draco prepares a romantic bubble bath for Valentine's Day...

**

Draco uncorked the bottle, relishing the little ~pop~ that echoed off the walls of the bathroom. It was still smoking slightly, as he had only just finished brewing it a few moments ago. He reached his arm over the tub and poured a generous amount into the rushing water. The liquid potion immediately transformed into thousands upon thousands of bubbles. 

With a satisfied smile, Draco turned to light the red candle he’d infused with a few drops of his most powerful Amortentia potion.  He struck the muggle match, his hair standing on end at the sizzling sound, and brought flame to wick. The smell of treacle tart, the wood of a broom handle, and vanilla filled his nostrils. After extinguishing the match, he sank into the steaming tub and disappeared under the bubbles.

He let out an elongated sigh, his eyes fluttering closed as he savored the feeling of the hot water prickling against his skin. The bubbles enveloped and caressed him, their soft kisses encouraging him to sink deeper into the water.

“You haven’t started without me, have you?” 

The voice came from the doorway, and Draco opened one eye to peek at Harry. His lover was stripped bare, the candle casting shadows on his beautifully toned body—Harry joining a Quidditch Club had been an excellent idea, in Draco’s opinion.

“Come in,” Draco murmured, spreading his legs. 

Harry settled into the tub, leaning against Draco who eagerly wrapped his arms around him. 

“Why does the entire room smell like you?”

Draco snorted. “The Amortentia candle,” he explained.

Harry chuckled. “Well, that explains it. Happy Valentine’s Day.” Harry tilted his head back, and Draco tenderly pressed his lips to Harry's. 

"Happy Valentine's Day."  **

Summary: Draco keeping and breaking muggle traditions...

Summary: It's 8th year and let's be real.... nothing has changed. Harry is still obsessed with Draco Malfoy. ** Harry watches as Draco stands and makes a beeline for the castle. Something green catches Harry’s eye as it falls from Draco’s person, unseen by the man walking away, his feet crunching against fresh-fallen snow with each step. Harry steps out from behind a tree to investigate: a Slytherin scarf. The Eighth Years were given Hogwarts-themed uniforms, and Harry knows how hard it is for him to be attending Hogwarts not wearing his Gryffindor scarlet and gold. He should call out to Draco—but when he opens his mouth, no words escape. Instead, he picks up the scarf, allowing the fibres to caress his hands. I’ll just borrow it, Harry thinks, wrapping the scarf around his own neck. ** ~ My contribution to the January 2021 Drarry Drabble Challenge!~ Prompt: Borrowed Word Count: 117

Draco pursed his lips together. 

Finally, he spoke. “Harry, I think the Dark Lord wishes to mark me this summer. And have me inducted into his service.”

(Image 1, Prompt 25 of 25 Days of Draco and Harry: a sprig of mistletoe, tied together with a red ribbon, hanging in front of a wooden background.) Part 1: 50 Shades of Red “So, where are we going to have this…’party’?” Harry asked, expertly hiding his true reaction to Hermione’s invitation. Hermione went slightly pink. “I was thinking…The Room of Requirement. You know…because it’s also called The Come and Go Room.” Harry choked on his own saliva and Hermione laughed.

“You don’t have to come or even go to the party if you don’t want—”

“No, no, I do want to come! GO. GO to the party, ” Harry assured his best friend whose eyes widened at Harry’s new-found enthusiasm and laughed kindheartedly at his slip-up. “I mean. I’m not like, obsessed, with the idea, you know me…I’m just…interested.”

“Uh huh,” Hermione nodded her brown eyes twinkling knowingly. “Interested in whom?”

It was Harry’s turn to go slightly pink. Or rather—crimson red. Hermione’s eyes went from soft, small, and twinkling to enormous saucers that challenged even Dobby’s most intense expression. “I WAS ONLY KIDDING— OH MY GOD! Who is it? Who did I say was coming that made you so eager to come!?”

Harry instantly went Gryffindor scarlet. 

Hermione actually squealed and Harry rushed away from the Common Room to the dormitories—leaving his friend to go through the guestlist one more time alone. Now, as long as his roommate wasn’t there Harry would have some time to th—

“Hey, Potter.” 

Harry stopped in his tracks and sucked in his breath. Then he let it out in a cool exhale, trying to disguise the fact that Malfoy had just caught him off guard. Sitting on his bed. Doing his homework. In their dorm-room.

“Yooo,” Harry said, slyly putting his hand to the back of his hair and posing casually in the doorway. Posing. Casually. Harry looked down at his body. What he was doing was far from posing. And far from casual. His body looked like the Whomping Willow trying to reach an itchy spot. He noticed Malfoy biting his lip as he quirked an eyebrow at Harry “chilling” in the doorway.

“You…alright?”

Harry blinked in response. Even though he and Malfoy had been on friendly terms since the end of the War when they had been preparing for Malfoy’s trial together, it still shocked him sometimes when his former archnemesis Draco Malfoy showed any interest in Harry’s well-being.

Ted put his finger to his mouth. “Shh! Scorpius, you don’t want them to catch us, do you?”

Scorpius glared at the older wix and said in a loud whisper, “Swytherins are naturawy steawthy.” He stepped on a particularly noisy floorboard that let out a long c-r-e-a-a-a-a-k.

Ted’s eyes widened in surprise as Scorpius whispered, “Whoops.” Ted put his hand to his mouth to stifle a laugh.

“That wasn’t very Slytherin, was it?”

“Oh, be quiet, Teddy!” Scorpius pouted, as the five-year-old did whenever Ted teased him about the potential of not being a Slytherin like his Maddy.  

“Hey, Scor?”

Scorpius ignored Ted, his arms crossed in front of him, his lower lip turned over and chin jutted out in a stubborn expression.

Ted sighed. “I’m sorry I made you upset. You know…you could still be in Gryffindor like Daddy. And Daddy’s really cool, too!”

Scorpius harrumphed.

Ted sighed in frustration at his little brother. They were never going to get downstairs to sneak a peek at the presents. He just HAD to know if he was getting the new Firebolt 360.  It was all he’d been thinking about for months, and all he’d written home about the first months of his Fifth Year leading up to Christmas, so he hoped his parents had taken the hint.

But Ted just couldn’t sleep, not knowing. He’d convinced Scorpius to sneak down with him under the pretense that they might catch Father Christmas in the act. Then, if they did get caught, he could use the younger wix as a scapegoat and no one would know how impatient he was. A Malfoy never shows their impatience. Ted snorted at the thought. It was something Grandma Cissy said, but his Maddy was probably the most impatient wix Ted had ever met.

“Come on,” Ted said, getting down to his brother’s level. “You don’t want to miss Father Christmas, do you?”

Scorpius’ face turned sharply back towards Ted. It was as if he’d forgotten all about their mission.  “No!”

“Shh!” Ted reminded him.

Scorpius screwed up his face and nodded.

Tags/Warnings: 

Confident Draco Malfoy living his best life, medicinal and recreational marijuana use, years-long pining coming to fruition, so much love and fluff, Draco helped Harry during the Battle of Hogwarts (throwing Harry his wand, etc.)

** He had a plan. He was a Slytherin. He always had a plan. A scheme. He was going to tell him he looked beautiful, laughing in the snow. Yes, it was a strange way to start a conversation after not seeing each other for three years, but something told him it would be okay. Something inside him was urging him to just take the leap, and say at least some of the words he’d been keeping to himself since he was eleven years old. Some words he was sure to hold back….but Draco had been wanting to confess this since he’d first seen Harry in Madam Malkin’s that fateful day in Diagon Alley. The day he fell in love with the Boy-Who-Lived and was destined to pine after him from that moment on. All in secret—until now. Until this moment.

Draco’s life was brilliant. His love for himself was so much purer than it had been in his school-age years and even in the year after the war. Now, he was bursting with love and ready to give some of it to someone else…and he was sure he knew who that someone else was, as he looked at Harry’s bouncy, wild black hair and lightning bolt scar making their way towards him across the ice. He was an angel. Draco laughed at the cheesy thought—but it was true. Harry smiled when he saw Draco laughing and the two finally reached each other, approximately two feet of ice still between them. Draco had walked onto the rink in his trainers, he’d been drawn in as if by some magnetic force surrounding the other man. When he met Harry’s eye, the former Gryffindor raised his eyebrows. “You are fucking high, right now, aren’t you?” he asked, amusement colouring his words.

Draco renewed his laughter, and Harry joined him, shaking his head in disbelief. “A Malfoy, really? In public, like this?” Harry’s tone was light and playful.

“Honestly, it’s done wonders for me—smoking pot I mean, not being in public,” Draco clarified, and Harry’s laughter rang in his ears again. It was one of the most amazing sounds Draco had ever heard.

“Same, same,” Harry said. “I mean, when the psychiatrists don’t give a shit about you and nothing seems to actually work against the anxiety except the cannabis, you do what’s right for you, you know?”

They’d barely been speaking for 60 seconds, and both Draco and Harry had revealed something quite personal about themselves and their mental states. Their miraculous ability to be open and raw with each other so immediately did not go unnoticed by either of them, and they both blushed.

“So…what are you up to?” Draco asked. He remembered his scheme, sure. But he had to lead up to it; it was only logical.

“Oh, just skating with Ron and Hermione. It’s a Christmas Eve tradition of ours.”

“That sounds lovely.”

Harry’s eyes widened, obviously shocked at hearing such a word come out of his mouth. He’d always used words such as “lovely” but never in his presence.

“Would you like to…join us?” Harry invited him, and the Snitches returned to Draco’s stomach in full force.

“I—would love that.” Draco nodded, accepting the invitation.

“You’ll need some skates…I’m sure Hermione can transfigure some for you.”

“That sounds perfect.”

Harry chuckled. “Come on.” He reached out his hand to Draco, who took it, his heart pounding in his chest.

Harry was about to lead him back towards Weasley and Granger when Draco said, “Harry?” Draco felt breathless. He was going to say it. And they were still holding hands.

“Yes? Er…Draco?”

He dove in. “I was watching you, laughing there with your friends in the snow, and—” Draco trailed off and took a deep breath, regaining the courage to complete his thought. “And you looked beautiful.” A thought occurred to him. “You still look beautiful, now, of course!” Feeling he was absolutely done for, Draco continued digging himself a bigger hole, “Not just now! I mean in general you do, too, I just meant…specifically just now you looked—”

A loud pecking on glass startled Draco out of his memory. Harry jolted awake and ran to the window. An owl waited, attempting to hold itself upright, a brown box wrapped with a brown string tied in a bow in its beak.

The window shot open as Harry reached towards it and the owl flew in to drop the parcel into Harry’s waiting hands.

“Thanks,” Harry whispered to the owl and pet the soft feathers on its head. The owl cooed and nibbled at his finger affectionately.

Draco felt his heart flutter at the kindness Harry showed the creature. He’d always been especially fond of owls.

When the bird took off, Harry shut the window with a wave of his hand and turned back towards the bed.

“Ah!” Harry startled to see Draco awake and looking at him.  He fumbled the package, but caught it just in time.

Draco made an undignified squeak in response, just as shocked at Harry’s reaction to him. At hearing Draco’s squawk, Harry burst out laughing.

“I’m—I’m sorry,” he said, gasping for air. Draco’s eyes narrowed and Harry caught his breath.

“I am! I just… didn’t know you’d be there. Like, awake already, I mean,” Harry said with another burst of laughter.

“Cut it out, Potter, it’s not that funny.” Draco’s cheeks began to flush.

“Sorry, Malfoy, but it is! That squawk…” Harry placed the package on the fluffy white chair next to the window and wiped a tear from his eye. “Classic. Just classic. Like one of your mum’s white peacocks startled out of its wits—”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Draco huffed. “Oh, for Mer—Merlin knows why I love you. Now get over here with that package. What is it?”

“It’s a surprise. From your mum.”

Draco raised his eyebrows.

“You’re not serious?”

“I’m not. I’m his Godson.”

Draco groaned and rolled his eyes. He’d walked right into that one and couldn’t fault Harry for taking the opportunity. Draco regained his composure.

“Open it,” Harry said, his excitement radiating out of every part of him.

“You know what this is!”

“I most definitely do. Come on, hurry up!” He placed his hands on Draco’s knees, holding him as Draco lifted his index finger and made a sharp movement upwards in the air. The brown string snapped and Draco reached forward to undo the spellotape on the edges. He could feel Harry’s excitement through the bond. “Stop touching me, you’re going to spoil the surprise!”

“Sorry!” Harry pouted, moving his hands away and stepping about a foot backwards, hoping to not inadvertently send any images telepathically to Draco about what was in the box.

Finally, Draco was able to lift the lid.  Inside, he found a weathered grey and white speckled plant pot. It had a sleek, tapered silhouette and engraved on  one side were the words “La Belle.” As he read the words in his mind, his lips subconsciously mouthed them and he felt his breath catch in his throat.

“Draco, what’s wrong?” Harry’s hand was back on his knee in an instant. The thought rushed through the bond and echoed in Draco’s mind. You haven’t even read the note inside yet. Draco was too preoccupied by the meaning of the words on the outside of the pot to be able to consider the note Harry was thinking about.

“N-nothing is wrong,” Draco got out. “It’s just…Oh, Harry…” Teardrops fell from his eyes, and Harry squeezed his knee. “These words…it’s French for ‘The Beautiful,’ but she wrote La, not—” Draco’s voice cracked, and he couldn’t finish his thought.

Harry did for him. “That’s… the feminine spelling? Isn’t it?” Draco nodded, still incapable of speech.

Harry wrapped his arms around his lover. “She loves you. She loves all of you, sweetheart.”

Draco took a couple deep breaths and swallowed hard. “She does. And this is the perfect way she could have told me that...”

**

~ My contribution to the December Drarry Drabble Challenge!~ Prompt: Tradition. Tags/Warnings: Post-War, First Christmas Post-War, Fluff, Christmas Fluff, Sweet Banter ** For as long as Draco could remember, his mother had encouraged him to develop an intimate and spiritual connection with the Earth. It was to be Draco and Harry’s first Christmas since the Battle of Hogwarts, and they were tending their individual Christmas Rose seedlings in the gardens of Grimmauld Place.

“Like this?” Harry asked, tentatively placing some soil around the seedlings, using a hand shovel that was so new, it brightly reflected the light of the candles they had conjured.

Draco grinned at the perfect image of his lover and the earth. As one. “Exactly,” he said. He used his own new hand shovel to delicately press the soil around their Christmas Roses.

When he was finished, Draco picked some soil up from the garden bed and relished in the feeling as he rubbed the dirt across his fingertips. Dry and damp at the same time, returning to the Earth while at the same time releasing his favorite scent—petrichor.

He took a deep breath and then exhaled with a contented sigh.

“It will take a few years before they fully bloom,” Draco explained.

“You mentioned,” Harry said. He paused. “They’re beautiful now.”

Draco nodded.

“As are you.”

Draco felt his cheeks burn. He’d never been good at hiding his embarrassment. His skin was just so pale and his blushes an intense beet red. His heart was pounding in his chest and he felt lightheaded—still amazed to be standing here with Harry at all. In Grimmauld Place of all places, celebrating their first Christmas after the War but more importantly…their first Christmas together as lovers and no longer enemies.

They felt it was important to commemorate such an important chapter beginning in their lives, and Draco, having had such fond memories of his mother’s Christmas Rose tradition, suggested it to Harry, who had loved the idea.

“So…how does this work?” Harry asked.

“We’ll touch the soil with one hand…” Draco put his right hand in the garden bed next to Harry’s left and their pinkies touched.

“And now…make a wish.”

“What sort of wish?”

“Anything.”

“Does it have to be Christmas-related?”

“Potter!” Draco narrowed his eyes. “Just make a wish.”

“O Holy Night” [podfic] 

“Harry! We’re here.”

Harry noticed Draco was standing in front of a shop. A tea shop. The sign read “Madam Puddifoot’s,” though it didn’t look like the same pink monstrosity Harry remembered.

“You’re…joking.”

Draco’s eyebrows shot up. “I most certainly am not.”

“You know I have bad memories here…”

“And?”

“And…well…it kinda messes up the vibe of the date, doesn’t it?”

Draco shook his head. “Stubborn Gryffindor. Look!” Draco pointed to the lovely brown-wood exterior and a shiny metal sign that jutted off the side of the wall, depicting a witch stirring a cauldron. There was magical blue steam bubbling in the cauldron and floating in whisps to form the words “Best Witches’ Brew!” “Does this look like the same place you went to with Cho Chang in Fifth Year?” Draco asked, patiently.

“No,” Harry grumbled.

“No. So do you think perhaps the inside has changed as well?”

“It’s a…possibility.”

“Please, Harry.” Draco turned to him. “You know me. I know you. Do you really think I’d purposely plan a date that you would hate?”

“Yes,” Harry answered truthfully.

Draco’s eyes widened in shock and then, noticing Harry’s grin, he had to smile as well, shaking his head. “You, prat.” He leaned in and planted a chaste kiss on Harry’s lips.

Draco felt Harry’s magic swirl around them as snow began to gently fall. “You always do that.”

“It’s romantic!” Harry retorted.

“It’s cheesy as hell is what it is.”

“You love it.”

“I’d never confess it.”

“You already have.”

“No witnesses. Can’t prove it.”