Mimouche

@drarrymicrofic | prompt: dream | wc: 50

Silky blond hair. Sharp insults, soothed now with sweet smiles.

A brush of his shoulder; a breath against his skin.

Harry woke with a gasp and a wet hand. Thank Merlin for soundproofed—he spied the open bed curtains in horror.

@drarrymicrofic | prompt: dream | wc: 500 | rated: mild m

The dreams had begun years earlier. Sometimes lurid, all sweat-slicked skin and desperate moans. Sometimes sweet, hands clasped on dates—one time they went to the zoo. Sometimes a litany of nightmares: the tower. The bathroom. “I can’t be sure.”

The strange thing was, he always dreamt through Harry’s eyes. His own face, lust-blown pupils and pink cheeks; Harry’s thumping heart. Feeling a leap of hope in Harry’s throat as saw himself bite his lip, eyes shining down at a ring as he nodded. The same nightmares, tempered by Harry’s sympathy, regret, pride.

The dreams were an unconscionably cruel move by his subconscious. His mind healer suggested a dream diary; he stopped after a year. It hurt too much, seeing what he could never have, feeling things he knew Harry would never feel. He didn’t need a book about it.

—

A knock distracted Draco from his calculations; he scowled as Harry strolled in.

“Do the Unspeakables need a potion?”

“If they did, I don’t know why I’d know,” Harry said, grinning. Draco rolled his eyes. Less subtlety than an erumpent in a dollhouse.

“Why are you here, then?”

“For you,” Harry said, then flushed.

Draco stared, heart racing. He didn’t let himself speak.

“Right,” Harry said. “What do you know about dreams?”

Draco swallowed, refusing to remember the previous night’s dream: Draco in Harry’s body, licking his own scars with a lascivious groan, whispering into his own ear, with Harry’s voice, how he wanted to—he shook himself.

“Do I look like a dream expert?”

“No. But Hermione is. And I was doing some research”—Draco scoffed—“and she. Well. She found out. When I explained, she gave me a book.”

Draco leant back, arms behind his head. “And you need me to read it to you?”

“No, you tosser, I managed.” Harry’s smile faded. “But … I think you should read it too.”

Draco frowned, heartbeat thudding in his throat. “It’s about dreams.” 

“Yeah. And … other stuff. Anyway, I just—here. I’ll need it back, Hermione’d flay me alive if I—I’ll go.”

Looking far more cowardly than any Gryffindor should, Harry shoved the book across Draco’s desk and fled. Draco tugged it closer.

A Short Treatise with Various Observations and Theories on the Metaphysicks of Soul-Bonds and Certain Peculiarities of Shared Dreams

Draco stared, mouth dry, before noticing the scrap of parchment tucked inside.

Draco— If I’m wrong, this might be the creepiest gift you’ve ever received. I hope I’m right. Can we talk? Tonight, 7pm, my place. —Harry

Draco sat, hands shaking, and opened the book to the first page.

At 6:59, Draco stood, book in hand, at Harry’s door. He took a breath and lifted his fist to knock.

Harry opened the door, rumpled and beautiful. He looked hopeful. He looked frightened.

“They’re your dreams?” Draco blurted. “I—they’re your dreams.”

"That will do."

The buzz of chatter died instantly as Malfoy swept into the room. Whether he saw Harry standing there at the very back of the classroom or not, Malfoy gave no indication. He put down the stack of parchment he carried and plucked his wand out from behind his ear.

"I've graded the homework you handed in on Friday," Malfoy said, his voice barely heard at all. "I really do wonder whether those who write an essay without reading the subject material first think I can't tell? Miss Collins, come hand these out, please."

Sitting down behind his desk, Malfoy proceeded to open the attendance register and call out each student's name, glancing up each time.

"And where is Mr. Hinkly?" he asked when a girl raised her hand instead.

"In the hospital wing," the girl said. "He ate a poisonous toadstool."

Malfoy blinked. "How come?"

"Um. He was dared to."

At this point, Malfoy looked up and straight into Harry's eyes. Then he gave a little shake of his head as if it was Harry who had been stupid enough to eat a poinsonous toadstool on a dare.

Here are a few drarry fic recs involving clubbing. Listed in alphabetical order, as always.

(Un)wanted by @aibidil [36k]

Ginny’s pregnant, then she’s not and Harry’s single. Harry, again with no family, doesn’t know what to do with this turn of events, or how to find a new life—post-war, post-Ginny, post-abortion—in which he belongs. He doesn’t expect that life to include dancing to the Backstreet Boys with Hermione and Draco Malfoy. A story of finding belonging in the unexpected.

An Aching Soul by @writcraft [14k]

I can’t help but wonder if Potter’s really as fine as he claims to be. There’s something strange about seeing the vanilla hero of the wizarding world eye-fucking someone across a crowded bar before slipping off into the shadows Draco Malfoy escapes to the Muggle world to avoid his parents, memories of the war and Harry Potter. However, some things prove harder to escape than others as Draco realises when his favourite Muggle haunt is rudely invaded by a post-war Harry who is struggling to cope with grief, growing up and the battle with his inner demons.

Blue Sunny Day by @firethesound [26k]

Years ago, Harry Potter disappeared from the Wizarding World. When Draco spots him at a club in Muggle London, well, he just can't resist the opportunity that presents itself.

Certified Mind Blower by @moonflower-rose [9k]

The sun rises as their night ends, and as good as it feels to be young and drunk and surrounded by his friends (even the ones whose names he can’t quite remember), Harry thinks it could be just a little bit better. And if Malfoy shows up at the club tonight, Harry might finally try to make it happen.

check this hand ‘cause I’m marvelous by @lqtraintracks [7k]

Harry’s had a crush on Malfoy for months now. But it will take a bar  full of his friends, some Firewhisky, wagers made on his behalf, and   Malfoy himself to get him to act on it.

Closing Time by @sweet-s0rr0w [18k]

Draco’s been invited to Neville’s stag party in Bristol, and he’s confident he knows what to expect. There’ll be too many Gryffindors, for starters, plus a few humiliating team-building activities, some dodgy clubs, and a truly preposterous level of alcohol consumption. But… a drunken Harry Potter climbing into Draco’s bed when he’s having a wank? No, he definitely didn’t see that coming…

Five Years by @shiftylinguini [4k]

For Draco, December means finding somewhere he can lose himself in the thrum of a crowd and the throb of music ― and Potter. It always means Potter now, too.

Got Me Started by kamaela [8k]

Malfoy said in a rush, “I don’t care about you.” “Uh, same?” was the only response Harry could come up with. Or: An unexpected partnership leads Harry and Draco to a sex club in Berlin. Harry doesn't quite know what to do with himself.

Harry Potter Gives a Shit by talithan [58k]

“Where are you headed?” “No place special,” Draco fumbled, and flushed further. But then: “I can change that,” said Harry Potter.

In the Shadow of Your Heart by @lqtraintracks [51k]

And thus began the very strange circumstance of their fake dating in public and real fucking in absolute secret. It was, with no comparison, the weirdest relationship Draco had ever been in – which was to say, it wasn’t one.

Let’s Dance To Joy Division by @femmequixotic [12k]

Let the love tear us apart, I’ve found a cure for a broken heart…

Meet Me At Midnight by xErised [16k]

Four Slytherins—including a drunk Malfoy with glitter in his hair from the clubs—have piled into Harry’s car. It’s shaping up to be a strange Uber shift. Or: when Harry and Draco found solace in long drives, midnights, and in each other, fourteen years after the war.

Never Mind the Bollocks  by @the-sinking-ship [118k]

If someone told Harry six months ago that by autumn he would be single, living on whisky and toast, and dancing the night away with Draco Malfoy, he would have told them to get their head checked. And yet, here he was.

Passing Strangers by @lettersbyelise [53k]

Five years after the war, Harry, listless and depressed, stumbles upon  Draco Malfoy playing the violin in an underground bar in Muggle London.  The catch? Draco lost his memories five years ago. Ignoring his friends’  advice, Harry befriends an unwitting Draco, overlooking the fact that  their mutual attraction might not survive if Draco’s memories return.

Serpentes by xErised [29k]

It’s a shame that Draco Malfoy looks so good stripping in a club with stolen snakes, because Auror Harry’s got a job to do. 

something unholy by @avigethblogs / avigethwrites [25k]

It’s 2006 and Harry finally has the picture-perfect family he always dreamed of. If only he knew how to keep his business clean.

Take These Lies by @pennygalleon​ [19k]

There’s a portrait of his godfather in Draco Malfoy’s potions shop and Harry needs to know why. But that’s not why he keeps coming back.

Things We Do by @the-sinking-ship [16k]

Drinking, dancing, and the sorts of decisions made after one too many shots of vodka.

Too Good At Raising Hell by @the-sinking-ship [87k]

When Harry Potter walks into Draco’s nightclub looking like trouble, Draco can’t stop staring. He really ought to train his dick not to react so enthusiastically to red flags, but where would be the fun in that?

At first, it was the same brand of coffee.

Autumn — Staff Room

“All gone…” Harry laments, speaking to no one in particular as he peers into the empty coffee jar.

“Ah, Merlin’s ball sack,” comes Malfoy’s voice over his shoulder. “That other stuff is rubbish.”

Harry turns to him. “Er, yeah. Suppose you’re right.”

Malfoy looks just as horrified by their agreement as Harry feels.

Then it was the same type of quill nib.

Winter — Library

“I know I’ve got one in here,” Harry mutters, rummaging through his briefcase.

“Alright, Potter?” Malfoy asks, peering up from his side of the table.

“Favourite quill nib broke, and I can’t find any spares,” Harry replies.

Two seconds later, Harry feels the sharp tap of metal bouncing off his head and then onto the desk.

A spare quill nib.

“They’re my favourite too,” Malfoy says, as if that is a perfectly acceptable reason for throwing a nib at him.

Harry nods at Malfoy. “Ah, thanks.”

Malfoy gives a small, shy nod back.

After that, it was the same book.

Spring — Hogwarts Grounds

“Hermione tells me I need to read more,” Harry says. “And I do, only it’s fiction. Which apparently isn’t enlightening enough.”

Malfoy chuckles lightly. “I won’t disagree with Granger, but I do love a good novel. What are you reading?”

They come to a stop by the Black Lake, and Harry is suddenly thrown by how the morning sun dances across the water, bright and pale as Malfoy’s hair.

“Potter?”

Harry blinks. “Oh, sorry—I’ve just finished reading the third instalment of The Rising of the Coast, and it was—”

“Third?” Malfoy cuts in with a frown. “That’s not out until the end of the year.”

“You’ve read The Rising of the Coast?”

“Have I read The Rising of the Coast?” Malfoy repeats incredulously. “How have you got the latest instalment?”

Heat blooms across Harry’s cheeks. “Erm… the publisher sent me a copy of the manuscript.”

Malfoy looks pained to say it. “Lucky sod. I can’t wait to read that.”

“Well…” Harry starts cautiously. “It’s in my quarters, if you want to borrow it?”

A ghost of a smile touches Malfoy’s mouth. “I suppose I might.”

Then came the same realisation.

Summer — Malfoy’s Classroom

“You’ve got three jars of lizard livers,” Harry says. “Though I think you should only write down two. This third one looks off.”

“Pass it here?” Malfoy asks.

He takes the jar, pops the lid, gives it a cursory sniff, gips, then Vanishes it sharply with his wand.

“Remind me not to let students help themselves next year. None of them ever put things back properly.”

It’s the end of the school year, and Harry is helping Malfoy count stock in his Potions supply cupboard. From where he’s squatting on the floor, attention now meant to be on the number of lizard tongue jars, he looks up at Malfoy instead.

Malfoy is scratching away at his clipboard, all heavy focus and sharp jawline, silver eyes glimmering under the low amber light of the single lantern as he counts empty vials.

It hits Harry then that he has two months without this.

And he doesn’t like that.

Not one little bit.

“Any plans for the holidays?” Harry asks, hoping he sounds more confident than he feels.

Malfoy shakes his head. “Nope. You?”

“Taking you out on a date.”

Malfoy looks at him, and the arch of his brow does nothing to hide the pink blush spreading across his cheeks.

“You asking me out from the floor of a Potions supply cupboard?”

“Erm… yes?”

Malfoy considers it for a moment, then grins.

“Alright. Wear a tie.”

Finally came the same future.

Autumn — Harry’s Quarters

“Get off me, you—Draco, stop it!” Harry laughs, making no real effort to stop Draco from attacking his neck with kisses.

“It’s your fault,” Draco groans as he finally pulls away. “You’re too fit.”

“We’re going to be late.”

Harry drags himself out of bed, avoiding Draco’s half-hearted attempts to pull him back in. He starts to dress, unable to stop himself from looking at Draco now that he can.

He can look at Draco all he wants, and Draco can look at him too, and they do that a lot these days.

Look and touch and kiss and spend an exorbitant number of hours between the sheets together.

“Let’s skip dinner,” Draco says, propping himself up on one arm. Moonlight cuts through the window, drowning him in white, making him look even more ethereal than he already is. “Let’s go down to the kitchens later and bring food back.”

“We need to show our faces in the Great Hall at some point, you know. People are starting to talk,” Harry says.

However, the thought of spending another night in bed with his boyfriend does sound appealing.

“Let them talk, Harry. We’ve nothing to hide. Right?”

Underneath the question is a faint thread of unmissable worry.

Half-dressed, Harry kneels on the edge of the bed and leans over Draco. He kisses him once, slowly.

“I’m not hiding you from anyone, Draco. It would be terribly inconvenient to do that for the rest of my life.”

He feels the curve of Draco’s lips against his own.

A second micro for @drarrymicrofic prompt: bond. WC: 50

"How long?"

"Forever."

"Be more specific."

"Until we die."

"That's not long enough."

"Harry, there aren't bonds that last beyond death."

"I'll create one."

"If anyone can, it's you."

"You'd want that?"

"In every iteration of existence there is only you."

"That's a yes?"

@drarrymicrofic | wc: 298 | prompt: bond

Harry had only had two pints, which wasn’t nearly enough to explain why he was openly staring at Draco Malfoy after weeks of trying his absolute hardest not to do exactly that at work. 

He blamed the Veela thing. Honestly, it was unfair. The long white hair spilling over Draco’s shoulders. The pale skin that seemed to shine at his throat where his collar sat open. The sharp line of his jaw. The—

“Mate,” Ron said, following Harry’s gaze. “Do you want to relax a bit? You’ve been making googly eyes at Malfoy half the night.”

Harry flushed. “What? Everyone thinks Malfoy’s fit. He’s part-Veela.”

The table went quiet.

Draco, who had been bickering with Pansy over something, looked over very slowly. “Pardon?”

Harry gestured helplessly at all of him. “Come on. The shining hair. The glimmering skin—”

“Potter.”

“—the mouth, obviously—”

“Potter!”

“What?”

“I take suppressants.”

Harry blinked. “What?”

“For the allure,” Draco said. “I have since eighth year, when I started presenting. No one here is magically compelled to find me attractive.”

Ron choked on his beer and Pansy made a small, delighted sound. Blaise sighed and handed her three Galleons.

“Oh,” Harry said.

Hermione leaned forward, eyes bright. “Actually, if Harry is perceiving Draco’s Veela traits without being influenced by allure, that might suggest a mating bond—”

Draco went completely red and looked away.

“—and judging by that reaction,” Hermione finished, crossing her arms, “Draco seems to have known.”

“Fine, I knew,” Draco snapped. “But I didn’t say anything because Potter is not obligated to—”

“I don’t feel obligated,” Harry interrupted, heart hammering. “I think I’m just… er, well, interested.”

Draco’s mouth parted.

Harry looked at Draco’s flushed cheeks and his beautiful, vaguely worried face.

Draco swallowed. “In what?”

@drarrymicrofic | prompt: bond | wc: 500 | rating: mild m

“Good news first, or bad?” Ron asked.

“Good,” Harry blurted, just as Malfoy said, “Bad, obviously.”

They glared, then turned away, hands clasped.

“Good news: it’s time-limited. The curse is for newlyweds to get to know one another. It’s not permanent. You’ll just have to wait it out.”

Malfoy sighed. “The bad news?”

Ron cleared his throat; he sounded amused, which Harry thought was a little rude. “We can’t break it, unless one of you fancies giving up your magic.” They both blanched. “The bond’s tied to your magical cores. If it were a permanent bond, maybe we’d try, but the risk of magical core damage—”

“How long, Weasley?”

Silence. Ron coughed; Harry could hear his attempt to restrain his laughter, the tosser. “One year.”

Malfoy gaped. “You expect me to hold hands with this cretin for a year?”

In the corner, Bill cleared his throat. “There are ways to … create distance.”

Harry saw Malfoy’s expression and somehow, he knew.

“I’m not shagging Malfoy!” Harry all but shouted. “I’ll hold his bloody hand for the rest of my life before that!” His face was hot. He didn’t like Ron and Bill’s dubious expressions.

Malfoy sighed. “I cannot believe I hired you as a curse-breaker and you cursed me.”

“I can’t believe your family has a dodgy sex-curse artefact!”

“Really? It seems rather in character to me, which is why I hired professional fucking curse-breakers!” Malfoy sighed. “l’ll pack a trunk.”

Harry frowned. “You’re … coming to Grimmauld?”

“Did you wish to move into the manor for a year?”

“Godric’s gonads, no.”

“I assumed. Come on.”

Harry ignored Bill’s knowing glance and Ron’s barely disguised leer as they left St Mungo’s. It only took Draco ten minutes to pack, despite having one hand clasped in Harry’s. Another few minutes to figure out how to Floo together and they stood in the drawing room of Grimmauld Place.

“I’ll show you to the guest—fuck.”

“Yes, I won’t be needing a guest room,” Malfoy said, tone dry. “Please tell me you have tea?”

Harry nodded. “Even some posh stuff.”

Harry didn’t mention that he’d seen what brand of tea Malfoy preferred in the manor kitchen and bought it, daydreaming about how impressed Malfoy might be if Harry were ever brave enough to invite him over. 

Malfoy didn’t look impressed. He sighed, running his wand hand through his hair.

“I’d like to try something.”

Harry waited.

A pause; a breath. A tug of their joined hands and they were chest-to-chest, Malfoy’s hand in his hair.

“This is just pragmatic,” Malfoy said. “I’d rather like privacy in the loo.”

“Right,” Harry breathed. “Pragmatic.”

“Making tea will be easier. Dinner, too.”

“Yes. That makes sense.”

“We’ll just … determine the boundaries of the curse. Experiment.”

“I like experimentation,” Harry said.

—

Draco looked up from between Harry’s thighs. “Curse ends tomorrow,” he murmured. “Am I moving back into the manor?”

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

Forever?

Forever.

@drarrymicrofic | prompt: ball | wc: 50

Draco sprawled, shocked from the blow.

Infuriating feet danced round his head. No finesse, but plenty of instinct; no shortage of raw skill.

“Gloating’s unbecoming,” Draco sighed.

“I’ll gloat later. Winner buys dinner—curry?”

“Italian.” Draco bounced up, smiling. “Your footwork’s improving.”

Kiss, laugh, dodge.

"Chokehold", Hudson Williams [from Heated Rivalry] for BVLGARI #GoldAndSteel Collection

May, 2026

I don't have anything to say in my defense.