Val

…I cannot not draw something for mermay xD

As the last year at Hogwarts draws to a close, Draco Malfoy behaves in a most peculiar manner, unintentionally revealing his bizarre fear of water. It’s sure to get Harry’s attention.

first commission piece for The Curse of the Sea by @samyistrying

Harry stretches his hands over the mugs, straining for that lingering warmth, tasting the last faint wisps of Draco’s magic and savouring it like the final glass of a rare wine. He lets out a long, slow breath.

Then, with a murmured Finite, Harry picks up the mugs and carries them into the kitchen for washing up.

Stop All The Clocks by @firethesound

This peice of work changed me on a molecular level.

- Do you think we're together in every universe?

Art based on fic

Finely Drawn Lines

The Isle of Ogygia by citrusses on AO3

There is an island, far out in the sea.

It’s useless to fight Potter. Isn’t that the lesson he’s refused to learn his entire life? // “Harry,” he says, as instructed, the word another link in the chain he’s binding himself with. // Potter comes back the next month, as reliable as the tides. Draco starves for him when he’s not there. // But Harry is also clearly a walking disaster and would apparently rather be kidnapped than face the mess he’s made of his life, so if Draco wants to spend the next four years eating Harry’s pancakes and fucking Harry until he can’t walk, he needs Harry to get his head right. // “There’s still a chance we could starve to death,” says Draco. “A bad enough storm could come in and–” “Then we’ll starve,” Harry says, smiling at him, and Draco gives up, because he’s finally learned his lesson about fighting Harry Potter.

A perfect little miracle of a story, almost fairytale-like in its rhythms, setting, and concision — though I don't know any fairytales featuring a protagonist quite as petulant, arseholey, or delightfully unfiltered (in the narration) as this Draco. Its real triumph might be the world-building, though, which is accomplished swiftly, elegantly, and uniquely — creating an expansion to the magic of the HP universe and portkeys that I will be thinking about for a long while. The dynamic is lovely as well: an easy relationship, that still honors the fact that these are two broken boys in need of saving. The smut is very good, too, as is the ust. 

Art:

(1) A Fisherman's Bedroom, Christen Dalsgaard, 1853

(2) Eddystone Lighthouse, Clarkson Frederick Stanfield, print made by W.B. Cooke, 1836

a very quick thing for the isle of ogygia by @citrusses ft. draco's fluorescent green windbreaker. read for an incredibly charming setting and draco pov + romance + THE SEA

Finally I can post the pieces I did for  HD Reverse Bang 2022 @harrydracobang. The first pic inspired the brilliant fic

  “Monster”, wich you can read here  by my wonderful partner @orange-peony 

I don’t have enough words to express how happy and grateful I am with Peony.  Thank you so much for choosing me as your partner. 

@drarrymicrofic | 750ish words | prompt: bind

It starts in Hyde Park. 

Draco runs past Harry at sixy-thirty in the evening. 

He hasn't seen Potter in a few years, but he doesn't appear to be all that different. If the Savior's finally more man than boy, he's only just. 

Draco goes back to the office to finish paperwork. By the time he's done, the night is dark and summery, so he decides to walk home through the park. Draco sees Potter again from a ways off. There's pollen in his hair. He's been running the whole time. 

Draco makes six thirty a habit, he runs for thirty minutes every day, and never finds out how long Potter runs for. No matter how he drags his feet at the Ministry, Potter's still running when he leaves for the night. 

Once, Draco tries nodding. Potter ignores this. 

August this year is a heat wave. 

Draco stops by the fountain beside the Peter Pan statue to refill his water bottle and Potter jogs by. Droplets of sweat flick off his curls and onto the back of Draco's hand. Draco watches him go, shorts swishing, metronome feet striking the earth. 

Potter wobbles for a step when he passes beneath the shadow of a leafy canopy. Draco’s running before he knows it. 

Draco grabs his arm and Potter jerks around. “Potter.” 

“What the f—Malfoy.” He blinks sweat off his eyelashes. “Er.” 

Draco holds his water bottle out between them. “Do you want any water?” 

Harry shakes his head. “S’alright.” 

“Drink,” Draco says. 

“I don’t need—“

“Do it.” 

Potter starts to get a little mad. His eyes are glassy. He grits his teeth. “Make me.” 

Draco rolls his eyes. “Make you?” 

Potter’s soaked in sweat. His sunburnt cheeks are a deep, raw shade of pink Draco’s never seen before. He’s trying to look mean, but just looks tired.

Draco’s better angels jump ship. Potter has ever been their scourge.

Draco grabs Potter by the back of the head and steps into his space. Draco’s taller and he uses this, jerking Potter’s head back. “Fine, you fuck,” he hisses. “Open up.” 

Potter gags when the stream of water hits the back of his throat. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. Potter wants to push Draco away, but doesn’t want to touch him. His fingers are resultantly weak against Draco’s chest. 

“Drink,” Draco instructs. “You’re going to pass out. Or do you still have no idea what’s good for you?” Harry makes a garbled sound. Draco pulls him off the path by the roots of his hair. “Don’t talk, moron.”

Rivulets of water run down the sides of Potter’s mouth. His eyebrows are angry. His eyes are unfocused. Magic gathers in the overheated air. Potter’s. Draco recognizes the overwhelm.

“Be good, Potter,” Draco whispers.

Wind sends petals skyward as it moves through flowering trees. The shade quivers. Potter takes a loud, messy gulp of water. Little chips of light dance on the ground.

“That’s it,” Draco soothes, “Just like that.” 

Potter glares at Draco from the bad, awkward angle of Draco’s making. He manages several thwarted swallows, tongue wet and red as his lips, voice box prominent along its curve, moving painfully up then down, down then up.

When the water’s gone, Draco steps back. Potter staggers and Draco reaches out but Potter flings his arm away and almost around himself in a strange, desperate arc. 

“What the actual fuck?” 

His touch had gone soft at the end, there was no mistaking it. 

Draco doesn't feel smug or superior—he feels exhausted, naked, on verge of collapse. Nevertheless, his mouth curls at the corners.

“Good boy,” he says.

A tiny sound escapes Potter's lips. It was originally a large sound, but had lessened on the journey up from Potter’s heart. 

The sun's rays beat down. The wind dies. Water mingles with sweat dripping off Potter’s chin and Draco’s dangling fingers and the water bottle's transparent plastic. Harry tries to hide his docility but, to Draco, it’s as golden as the band Potter wears on his finger. 

They watch each other as joggers pass. Potter still wears beat-up trainers. Potter still lets his soles fall apart.

Draco's smirk fades.

Cover art by my love, @fictional

Chasing Dragons

Author: The_Sinking_Ship (AO3) (Tumblr) Pairing: Draco/Harry Rating: E Wordcount: 99k Tags: fake/pretend relationship, enemies to lovers, Healer Draco, dragon tamer Harry, everyone is a total BAMF, and Harry rides a motorbike in a leather jacket, and Charlie Weasley is sexy af Collection: H/D Wireless 2021 @hd-wireless​

Summary:

Draco can think of only one way to outclass his pleat-front-khaki-wearing politician ex, and that’s by making headlines with an obvious upgrade. And who better to upstage the cheating bastard than the Saviour of the World, Harry Potter himself? Sure, Potter is a little rough around the edges in ripped jeans, a rumpled tartan shirt, and a permanent scowl. Draco reckons a haircut and a shave wouldn’t hurt, either. But Potter is also in need of a Healer willing to keep his secrets, and Draco is just the man for the job. It’s a perfectly reasonable exchange. They need only attend a couple parties arm-in-arm, smile nicely for the paparazzi, and tolerate each other long enough to convince everyone they’re smitten. In return, Draco will keep Potter alive and in one piece.

But it isn’t long before Draco realises he might be in over his head, because Potter is ten tonnes of trouble packed into a leather jacket, and seems keen on hurtling himself towards death on the back of a flying motorbike. And that says nothing of Potter’s penchant for fire-breathing beasts and things that bite.

Ah well, at least they’ll have some fun while it lasts. After all, Draco always did like a bit of danger.

Notes:

This fic was based on a prompt by @ladderofyears for the song Bad Boyfriend by Garbage (anyone else have a teenage crush on Shirley Manson?!). It is my honour to gift this to such a fantastic writer and all-around lovely person.

BIG THANK YOU TO: my darling betas, @phenomenalasterisk and @hgh777​. My number one cheerleader and creator of my GORGEOUS fic cover, @fictional,​ and of course the Wireless Mods!

If anyone can pull off a 'draw me like one of your french girls' moment, it's them ✨