Drarry Picrews

new chapter old wand who could’ve known we would find common allegiance

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HD Tarot Fest Art Claim - Ace of Wands

Another drarry comic, this time based on @hsvh-hp ‘s microfic !

The telephone, Harry decided, was the worst Muggle invention ever.

His would ring at all hours of the day. The repairman scratched his head about it. When Harry received his bill, he learned the odd calls were all from one number. The phone company wouldn’t tell him who it was registered to.

“Some fanatic’s gotten hold of it, obviously,” Ron suggested. “But why won’t they say anything?”

Harry tried hanging close to the phone so he could potentially catch who was on the other end. His drawing room wall ended up covered in a complex board, eliminating suspects based on alibi. Ron said Harry was cracking. Maybe he was right.

A ray of hope, when things seemed darkest: the phone company released a callback feature.

They also released a masking feature. Harry really, really hoped his mystery caller didn’t realize that. His sanity banked on this. He was either going to find out who’d been ringing him five times a day, or he was cancelling his services. Fuck it!

“Hello?” he warily answered after his callback feature was live.

The line clicked dead, like usual, and then Harry paced around his house as he gave the caller enough time not to suspect it was him ringing back. Then, heart pounding, Harry punched in the specific three-digit code.

It started to ring. Harry had to sit down, he was so nervous.

Someone picked up, their tone blasé and riotously familiar. “Hello?”

Harry’s breath caught in his throat.

“Hello?” Draco said again. “Is anyone there?”

Harry remained stunned.

A sigh led into a mirthless chuckle. “I’m caught, aren’t I?”

All Harry could do was laugh. Head in his hands, he shook with it. Eventually, long beyond when Draco had joined in with him, Harry said, “You fucking wanker.”

“I see now why you didn’t make it with the Aurors.” In Harry’s mind’s eye, Draco lounged on a sofa with the phone cord wrapped around his fingers. “I could’ve swore you overheard me and Pansy that one time talking about prank calls.”

“I did,” Harry flatly said; Ron had unintentionally led him astray with the ‘fanatic’ comment.

I wish there were fics where they got crushes on eachother when they were just babies :[

be my big spoon, potter 😌💤

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“What are you doing?”

“I—" Harry’s newly spread legs hinge shut. “Are we not—are you having second thoughts?”

“Are you?”

“I just slicked up my arsehole, tosser. Should I cast a Point-Me, or d'you think you can find your own way?"

“Oh, no, no.” Malfoy’s arms knot over his chest. “You are not bottoming, Potter.”

“What? Says who?”

“Says me.”

“Well, fuck you.”

“Precisely. Glad we’ve cleared that up.”

“No! I’ve been waiting since fifth year for this!”

“Ha! I’ve been waiting since fourth.”

“Is everything a competition with you?”

“Yes, and it’s not a competition. I’ve won.”

“Oh, please.”

“Well, since you’ve asked so nicely—no! Man up and dick me down, Potter.”

“This is ridiculous.”

“I agree.”

“No, Malfoy, I spent years loathing myself for what I wanted you to do to me.”

“Yes, same, that’s very touching, shall I blow you first? Warm your cockles a bit, as it were?”

“No! I mean—yeah, fine, that’s—great—but I still want you to fuck me.”

“Perhaps you could show me how you like it. Hands-on demonstration, you know.”

“Fuck’s sake.”

“Does your equipment not work properly? Is that it? Afraid you won’t last?” Malfoy’s voice descends to silk, one overly manicured fingertip raindropping down the centre vale of Harry’s chest. “Afraid you’ll embarrass yourself the second you’re inside me? All that tight, fiery heat, just waiting for you to claim it…?”

Harry grits his teeth hard enough to crack enamel. “Flip a coin?”

Malfoy blinks, owlish and penetrating. “How mood-killingly pedestrian.”

“Pretty sure the mood’s dead and buried, thanks.”

“You’d hex the coin. I don’t trust you.”

“Fine, what do you suggest?”

Malfoy appears to think long and hard, at which choice of words Harry stops thinking entirely. The incoming smirk is more ominous than a Grim in tea leaves, a Mark in the sky, a shattered mirror.

“We could duel for it.”