A Slytherin Swede here! She/her, mid 20s ♣ My links: ♣ Ko-Fi in case you'd like to support me. ♣ Ao3 for my fics. ♣ Tapas for some original writing. ♣ Twitter. ♣ Photography Instagram.
Title: Champions of Karlstad
Word Count: 18,3k
Rating: Explicit
Tags: Ice Hockey AU, SHL, Swedish Hockey League, 2022-2023 SHL Season, Färjestad BK, Luleå HF, Set in Sweden, Sports Rivalry, Rivals to Lovers, Hockey Typical Violence, Sexual Content, Mentions of Blood (nosebleed)
Summary:
Draco signs a contract with Färjestad BK, one of the top ice hockey clubs in Sweden.
Draco's long-time rival, Harry Potter, refuses to play with Draco, but still chooses to follow him to Sweden, signing with another Swedish club.
Is screwing with Draco's life all that Potter really cares about, or is there some other intent behind his annoying behaviour?
Link to ao3: Champions of Karlstad
Excerpt:
The week between Christmas and New Year’s passes in a blur of practices, rain and two more games. One home game against another crowd favourite; Leksand IF (which Draco and his team won four against zero). And then one away game against the tricky IK Oskarshamn (which they also won, six-three).Â
By the time midnight strikes and the new year begins, Draco is feeling more than confident about what the new journey around the sun will entail. In fact, he’s feeling exhilarated, and perhaps a little arrogant.
Not only has his team won all three games Draco has played with them this far, but he can also revel in the fact that LuleĂĄ have lost their last two games. Earlier today he even indulged himself, sending a better luck next time message to Potter.Â
To his surprise, Potter called back almost immediately only to curse at Draco, loudly and at length, before hanging up again. It put a smile on Draco’s face that still decorates his face while he watches the fireworks exploding in the sky outside.Â
Author's Notes:
I'm patting myself on the shoulder, telling myself "Well done, you" because this has been a difficult journey. But I did it.
In my planning doc for this fic, I've previously written two messages to @sleepstxtic, who prompted a sports rivalry to this year's edition of @lcdrarry. Those messages are as follows:
Hullo there, Kat. It’s me. One of your many, many fans.Â
I won’t lie. It took a lot of courage for me to sign up for this prompt. Remembering what you wrote last year for bodiceripper, recalling the tension and emotions you created with your words. How can I ever live up to that?
Truth is, I can’t. I can only try. And I knew, when I saw the prompt, that the only thing I could do to make the prompt justice, would be to call your obsession with tennis, and raise you my own: I had to write an AU about the one sport I’m completely engrossed in myself. Ice hockey.Â
I guess I’ve been looking for an excuse to write a hockey AU for quite some time already, and you finally gave it to me. And I guess that’s why I finally steeled my nerves, took a deep breath and plunged into the scary waters of writing for you. I signed up…
***
I have a question for you, Kat. Do you even understand what a struggle it was for me to write about something that made me so excited I couldn’t get my hands to stop shaking? That I couldn’t sit still enough to actually write for? That constantly made me sidetrack and focus on the actual ongoing ice hockey season in Sweden? Would you like to see my notes of planning for this fic and read about all my meltdowns over what happened during games I watched and whatnot? I guess it’s a journey of its own to read all of that. There are 21 pages of it available if you want it. Just tell me, alright? Cheers.
It's not that strange that I was so excited. Drarry? And ice hockey? AND FĂ„RJESTAD BK?! Together?!?! My brain literally melted.
As time flew by, my excitement for this prompt wasn't the only thing that made it difficult for me to write this fic, though. I was scared to write something subpar to what you deserved. To what my beloved FBK deserved. I was afraid that what I wrote wasn't worth reading. But I kept writing, slowly.
Real life knocked on my door. Uni studies and whatnot. Suddenly I had like five extensions past me and time was up. The fest was due to be over in only a couple of days.
I saw the end, I could see the horizon of the story. I was almost done. So little left, but it felt like so much.
I did it. At last, I did it. I finished it. On time!
(or, at least, in time before the fest was over... on time would've meant i finished it much earlier...)
So. I've got a long list of thanks I need to send out.
Let's begin with @celilasart. The incredible mod of Lights Camera Drarry who has a bottomless well of patience and care inside her. You always have a kind word to offer when one needs it, and you're always so encouraging. I've already sent you several thanks on ao3 and on Discord, but truth be told, I can never thank you enough. Please never forget how amazing and wonderful you are.
Moving on (before I start crying with gratitude for Celila), I want to thank @ununquadius for being my friend and for cheering me on through these past months. I don't know how you can bear with me, all the CAPS MESSAGES and rants about a sport you don't even understand. But you've always stood by me. You believe in me. You check in on me and my progress. Thank you, love.
@tsundanire. Jay. I'm sorry, alright. Just know I'm really sorry. Crashing into your house DMs, bringing a loud ruckus with me, demanding to know why the fuck I can't find an English term for this or that when it comes to hockey. Random questions about differences between NHL and SHL that are barely coherent. Please don't hate me forever. I'm still your friend. Just tell me what to do to make it up to you.
I didn't give you much time, @brightluminae , (I'll admit I didn't give myself much time at the end) but you still managed to help me sooo much, straightening the story out. I asked for cheers and help with fixing some wrinkles, and you came through brilliantly. Thank you so so so much for your help, my friend. Without you, I'm certain I wouldn't have been able to finish this before the fest ended.
AND LASTLY. @ladderofyears. Emma. Emma. Emma. Emma. EMMA! How do I even start? You're a champ, I think we all can agree on that. Writing and drawing your own submissions. Offering countless people help with proofreading their stories. Always encouraging people – friends or not – to keep going, believing that they can do it. And on top of that, you've spent five whole months with me and this story. You've been there through every struggle, through all ups and downs. My love and gratitude for you is neverending.
Cheers and love to everyone, and I hope you enjoy reading the fic.
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just tried to reference the xkcd "today's lucky 10,000" comic but I wanted to explain xkcd first, so I was like "you probably know the one about experts in the field overestimating their audience's familiarity with the subject matter" and uh. he didn't. love me some irony
guy on the subway with one ear pierced, little gold hoop. other guy on the subway very quickly and subtly googling "which one is the gay ear". it is not the gay ear. visible disappointment on his face as he puts his phone away.
stop using chatgpt!!!! take a bronze pin and carve your questions onto an ox scapula, then toss it into the fire!!!! use the cracks to divine the gods answer!!!!
citations still have to be APA 7th edition though. if you plagiarise, the gods will flood the yellow river again. and you'll lose your academic standing.
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writing is a fantastic hobby but the kicker is it's a lot harder to show your friends as it's progressing. with a sketch i can show someone and they'll be like oh that's an apple. you can't do that with words until you get a lot of them down. so i'll just be like damn fuckin. uhh. check this out
that's right. and that's just one of the several words i know
Every time someone tells me they hate Shakespeare (which is frequently, bc people who hate Shakespeare r usually very proud of it and they need to tell me immediately when they learn that I'm a Shakespeare actor) I enact a sort of self contained stoic ritual where I remind myself that I do not need to be defending the most read and lauded and hegemonic English writer of all time even though I KNOW that they've only half-read Romeo and Juliet when they were 14 in a lame English class and formed a grudge and never changed their opinion. I have that knowledge and I allow it to wash over me and leave me undisturbed
Every time someone tells me they hate math (which is frequently, bc people who hate math r usually very proud of it and they need to tell me immediately when they learn that I'm a mathematician) I enact a sort of self contained stoic ritual where I remind myself that I do not need to be defending the most pure and applicable and eternal field of all time even though I KNOW that they've only half-learnt algebra when they were 14 in a lame math class and formed a grudge and never changed their opinion. I have that knowledge and I allow it to wash over me and leave me undisturbed
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Unfortunately, Draco was very used to hearing but.
“Mr Malfoy, thank you for your Healer application. Your NEWT scores are exemplary, and we thoroughly enjoyed reading your dissertation. We would love to offer you a position at St Mungo’s, but we’ve decided to move forward with a candidate whose public profile is less complicated.”
“Draco, I know our parents want us to get married, and whilst I think it wouldn’t be a terrible arrangement, I just can’t do it. You’re lovely and all, but I have to think of any children we might have. It would be so difficult for them to have a Death Eater as a father.”
“Darling, you know I adore it when you visit. I really do live for them… but perhaps it would be easier if you came when it was dark out? So the press didn’t see you.”
“You can work in the DMLE admin department, Malfoy. The pay is as shit as the hours, but it’s probably more than you deserve.”
So used to hearing but was Draco that he lived in a constant state of flight. One foot out the door. His heart tucked away safe and sound. It was easier to keep his guard up than risk the pain of letting someone close enough to wound him properly.
You would think, with so much practice, that his walls would be impenetrable. It took Harry Potter returning to England after years abroad for Draco to learn this was simply not true.
Polite smiles as they passed each other in the corridor became small talk in the cafeteria queue. Small talk became shared jokes over lunch. Shared jokes became Harry waiting by Draco’s desk at the end of the day, asking if he wanted to get a drink. One drink became two, became Harry’s hand on the small of Draco’s back, became trysts in the supply cupboard, nights at each other’s homes, weekends away, until somehow—impossibly—all of it became whispered promises between the sheets that Draco didn’t believe.
But gods, did he want to.
He wanted to believe so badly that, despite half his heart constantly bracing for the inevitability of but, the other half lived in hope of a full stop.
It came on a Wednesday evening. Harry and Draco stood side by side at the hob, both tired from work, both still in their shirtsleeves, cooking dinner together like they did most nights.
“You’re going to burn the garlic,” Draco said, reaching past Harry to turn down the heat. “Add the stock now.”
Harry did as he was told. “That enough?”
“Perfect. Add the rice and let it simmer for fifteen.” Draco glanced at the oven. “I think the chicken is almost done, you know—”
“I love you.”
So sudden it was that Draco froze. He braced himself, waiting for the but.
I love you, but this is difficult.
I love you, but people will talk.
I love you, but I don’t know if I can.
Only, it never came. Instead, Harry took his hand, threaded their fingers together, and stood so close that they were chest-to-chest, and Draco began to wonder. Â
“I love you,” Harry said, softer this time. “That’s all.”
Draco swallowed. His heart was no longer tucked away safe and sound. It was right there in his throat, beating itself half to death because it was true.
“I love you too,” he said, his voice trembling.
I don't want to buy mass-produced garbage from a big box store so I go to etsy but half of etsy is now dropshipped mass-produced garbage or AI slop so I go to the local arts and crafts street market but a ton of those booths are also selling the same generic plastic objects or identical stickers or 3D printed dragons so WHERE do I buy real trinkets and art from sincere freaks
i genuinely don't think there's much, if anything, hotter than someone clearly having a blast doing something they're really good at. doesn't really matter what it is. the combo of competence and joy is absolutely lethal to me
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