Welcome to the Dark Side

Omg based on this post that @l0vegl0wsinthedark tagged me in and i couldn’t stop laughing 😭😭 just had to sketch it out

Heres a non blurred version of scorp screaming

In a desperate bid to get Malfoy to talk to him, Harry Potter slips him an enchanted notebook during sixth year. Five years later, he finally gets an answer.

“Here,” with a giant heave, “just a little—c’mon, Potter,” pulling the arm slung around Draco’s shoulder tighter. “It’s just a bit further, you twat.”

Potter’s smile was smeared all across his face, unbearable at such a close distance. “You’re so strong,” he said, twattily. Draco resisted the urge to push him off.

“You’re making it so much harder than,” short on breath for laughing. “Come on, you big lug. There’s a warm bed waiting for you just the other side of this corridor.”

“How do you know it’s warm?” Potter asked. “Did you try it?”

“Of course. Nothing but the best at Chez Malfoy. See, if you were a normal house guest and not a silly goose—”

“Am not a goose,” indignantly. “Silly, maybe.”

Draco stopped them both halfway through the corridor. “Maybe?”

“Maybe. I’ll give you somewhat silly, on occasion.”

Eyebrow hiking: “On occasion.”

“And only somewhat.”

This grin-thing his face was trying to pull was achey around the corners. “You mean,” Draco said, “that cursing yourself with jelly-legs and getting your own flat flooded with patchouli was not an entirely silly thing to do. Only somewhat silly.”

“Certainly an occasion,” Potter said, and his eyes sparkled. “Thanks for having me, by the way.”

“Oh, sure. What else could one do when the Chosen Git wakes them up in the middle of the night in uproarious fits of laughter? It’s no problem, I mean,” when the smile on Potter’s face dimmed. “I’m happy to have you here. As long as you need.”

They both swallowed at the same time. It was quiet, middle of the night, just them here. Holding each other and standing very close. In his house coat, and his red-red cheeks, Draco felt miserably naked, too obvious.

Then Potter’s legs started twitching again, and he started laughing, again, this helpless, raw sound, and Draco was helpless too. To it, to him. With his shoulders and colourful socks and the strands of his hair that kept catching his eye.

“Here,” Draco realised he was saying, only after he brushed a few of those away. Gulped loudly. “Let’s—come on, let’s get you to that blasted bedroom.”

Potter echoed his swallow. His nervousness, for some reason. “What’s that door over there?” pointing at the nearest one.

“That one’s mine.”

“Oh.” Sucking in his bottom lip in a truly unfair display. “What if,” he started, shook his head, nodded, “wouldn’t it be easier if—”

“I’m not giving you my bed,” Draco heard himself say with pure shock, instead of, for example, “yes, of course, anything you’d like, forever actually.”

“I’m not asking you to, git. I meant, maybe we could share.”

“Share…” comprehension, rather than dawning, sank. “Share my bed?”

“God, you can be so thick,” and why did Potter sound fond? “Had to curse my own legs and still you continue to—”

“I’m the thick one, when you cursed your—wait, what?”

“Will you just,” laughing, “Malfoy, shut up, for the love of god, and take me to bed already?”

His heart splattered against his ribcage. “Take you to bed. Yes, I can do that.”

To the… guestroom, right? That’s what they were talking about.

“Malfoy,” again in that inexplicable tone, the one that went soft and low instead of—instead—“I was serious. About sharing. I’ve been serious about if for quite some time.”

The heat in his cheeks and the frenzy in his chest: “Yes?” meaning, really? Meaning, me?

“Yes.”

Melting a little, “It is closer. My bed, I mean. And, the sheets are clean.”

“Always prepared at Chez Malfoy.”

“Shut up, you absolute goose.” Nearly brave enough for a smile, tilting his head towards his room. Bursting when Potter, eyes twinkling, nodded.

He was taking the silly goose to bed. How… fortunate, really, that he opened the door. That Potter’s legs were still dancing, that the other, nearer guestroom for some reason didn’t come to mind. That Potter was serious, he said, had been for a while now, and that Draco was too, entirely too serious for him. Almost too serious to laugh when Potter’s right foot sent in a truly spectacular jig: almost.

They laughed together. Twats. Even the bedroom door laughed with them as it closed. Then the hinges of the bed as they gingerly climbed on. Then the birds in the morning, when they woke up, still holding each other’s hand.

(Hi, so, I might be doing a bit of flufftober? Grab a link to AO3 if you want to keep up with the sporadic posting schedule. Love and soft to us all).

Draco/Harry Morning After, Temporary Amnesia, One incredibly hungry cat This is, really, very silly. I was initially going to have the narrator be an incredibly judgemental, omniscient, nature documentarian. But, the cat's perspective just came naturally. Enjoy this ridiculousness while I get my writing gears going again.

Oh god, you look horrible. Your lips are all cracked and sticking to your teeth, there’s all that crust around your eyes, and, Jesus, the hair. I shouldn’t even be in here. This is sad. 

I can’t believe you’re just now waking up at… two-thirty in the afternoon. That’s fine, Harry. I’ll just starve. It’s not like you’ve placed my food container in the back of the highest cupboard, so I am forced to wait as you hobble out of your room every morning. I wish I could have thanked your guest properly last night, but I was so sleepy and didn’t realize he’d left your bedroom door open until after he’d left.

He wasn’t one of your usuals. He was prettier, and pet my head before he went. The other ones never do that. Plus, he gave me the chance to do this–

Thwack.

“Mmmph.”

Wake up. You have things you need to take care of! Me, specifically. Please. Do I have to do it again? 

Thwack.

“Fuck, Fluffy.”

Good, you’re alive. I was beginning to worry.

“You’re not going to starve.”

I am, though. I really am going to starve if you don’t get up. Can’t you see how hollow and sunken I am? I must have lost ten pounds last night, and you don’t even care. At least your guest had the good manners to call me pretty and pet me. I should go find him, let him take care of me–

“Oh, but you’re so–” 

Okay, fine. You do have quite the knack for petting. I would never tell you this, in case your head gets even bigger. I already have to watch you struggle to pull your undershirts on over that melon.

“How did you get in here last night?”

You ask me so many questions, yet refuse to learn my language. Even if you could understand me, I would never incriminate your guest. I want him to come over again. He smelled like pumpkins. His hands were smooth.

“Wait–”

Looking around your room suspiciously should not be at the top of your priority list right now, boy! Me. I am the priority list. Oh, of course. Now you decide to organize. Actually, you’re making everything worse. I don’t know how you live like this, truly. I may not have to know, since I will no longer be living if you keep getting distracted–

“Yes, Fluffy, I hear you. Just–”

Is my food on top of your desk? On the bookshelf? Under the bed? I don’t think so. Kitchen. The kitchen is where we need to go. Onwards.

“Fuck, who the hell–”

It doesn’t look like you're holding my food container. It looks like you’re holding a shirt. I wish I could hold things. Then I could open that damned cupboard. The entire reason I keep you around is your ability to open that cupboard, and you’re still not doing it. I thought relationships were supposed to be 50-50? You fill my bowl. I grace you with my presence. It’s so simple, and yet you’re holding that shirt and staring at it. What has it been? Two hours? It feels like it.

“Hermione,” you mumble. You always do that right before you go to the telephone. I don’t like the look of this– oh, and there you go. To the telephone, not the cupboard. Cool. Fine.

“Just a minute, Fluffy.”

Just a minute. Then it’ll be another minute, and then another, and soon enough I’ll be belly-up in front of my fossilized food bowl. I hope you’re kind enough to hold a proper funeral for me when I’m gone–

“‘Mione, did you see me leave the reception last night?”

The wedding. God, you wouldn’t stop moaning about it, and I couldn’t even interject. It’s a shame I never got to meet Ginny. Anyone who can make you this miserable must be a hoot.

“Who was I with?”

Do you really not remember your guest? He was quite memorable to me, with his soft hands and pumpkin smell and shiny hair. His eyes glowed. How could you not remember the man with the glowing eyes?

“Oh, you’re joking.”

I’ve learned, after three years of listening in on your phone calls, that when you say “you’re joking,” usually, the person you’re talking to is not joking.

“No. No, no, no. There’s no way– No. Malfoy?”

Malfoy. Is this the man with the glowing eyes? Tell me, Harry, before my premature death, is this the man with the glowing eyes?

“Shit. Fuck. I never– God, and I have to pick up my broom at his shop…” 

You’ve placed your hand over your eyes. Never a good sign. 

“This is a disaster. Do you think he remembers?”

He probably remembers me. Unlike you-

“Should I just– I don’t know. I don’t know!”

Stop throwing your hands up in the air like that. You almost knocked over the fern. That was going to be my after-dinner activity, and it’s not as fun if you’ve already done it yourself.

“I’m gonna go over– Yeah, no. I’m gonna go over there right now.”

The hell you are. You look like shit, your breath smells worse than mine, and my food bowl is still empty. If we want your guest to come back, we have a lot of work to do before you leave this house.

“Terrified, but It’ll be fine… Yeah, I’ll let you know. Bye. Love you.”

Finally. After three long years– wait, why are you going back in your room? Wait! Wait! I’m coming, wait–

Oh, you arsehole. I’m going to reach my paw so far under this door– I’m gonna– You’re not even ready for the day I figure out how to use a doorknob. You think I’m annoying now? If I just– I’m so close. I’m gonna do it. Watch me. It’ll twist-

Fine, damnit. I’ll shift my schedule around and knock over the fern now. Ugh, but then you’ll have to pick it up. Okay, option two. I’ll lay down in front of my bowl and plot my revenge for later. Yes, I’ll do that. What are you even doing in there? 

I could jump up and grab that curtain again. I know you hate that screaming lady. I actually don’t mind her. She always tells me how cute I am in between insulting you–

Oh, welcome back to my domain. You… you actually look quite nice. How’d you get presentable so fast? I like what you’ve done with your hair. You should’ve worn the blue shirt, but black works, I guess. You look fine. At least if I starve, I won’t have to stare at your hideous morning form while I do it.

“I’m sorry, Fluffy. I know you’re hungry.”

Yes! I am! I do not forgive you. 

Open the cupboard, open the cupboard, open the–

Beautiful day. It’s a beautiful day. The sun is shining, you’ve brushed your teeth, and you’re finally opening the cupboard. Maybe you’re not so bad. Yes. Open the container. Yes, yes, yes! 

Victory, at last. Crunch. I can feel my– crunch– strength returning already. God– crunch, crunch, crunch.

Alright boy, now that our business is done, go speak to our guest. Bring him over for dinner. I’d like to see his glowing eyes again.

“Bye, Fluffy. Wish me luck.”

Good luck, Harry. Good luck.

***

The man with the glowing eyes is here again. He’s in the kitchen. If he reaches behind the kettle, he’ll find that package of treats I’ve been trying to figure out how to open. Maybe he’ll do it for me. Oh! He’s reaching… and he’s reaching… and he’s found them! Oh, that beautiful man. You called him Draco.

Draco with the glowing eyes and the soft hands. I like him.

He’s given me three treats! You always give me a measly one. How is that meant to be a treat? Such a tease. Now he’s walking back to your room, and if I can slip around his legs just so–

“Could you close the door?”

You are such a dickhead, you know that?

“Why?”

Draco asks the important questions. Finally, someone who understands me. 

“Fluffy will get in.”

“Is that a problem?”

“She’s a menace. You’ll see.”

Oh shit. He’s picking me up. Yes, behind the ears. Perfect. Harry, he’s perfect.

“She’s so adorable, though. Look at her little face. Awe, you’re not a menace, are you?”

I refuse to answer that question.

“She is.”

“Come on. Can’t she sleep in here? Just one night?”

You’re rolling your eyes. This is no way to respond to the requests of our guest. 

“Fine. Fluffy, you’d better be good. No scratching Draco in the morning.”

I would never scratch this fine specimen of a man. How dare you even imply–

“She’ll be good.”

Finally, someone who can speak for me in this house. Yes, set me on the bed, Draco. Your couch is too flat. Did you know that, Harry? Now, I must situate. Oh, this is perfect. If I just set myself on top of both of your legs. Yes, that’s nice.

This is nice.

“I’m glad you came over tonight,” you say, but you’re not talking to me.

“I’m glad, too. I may have to come over more often. Who will defend Fluffy if I’m not here?”

“She defends herself.”

“Let me have my excuses, Potter.”

“Fine. Come over and defend Fluffy whenever you like.”

I think the flower shop/tattoo parlour AU has cycled through being novel to basic to necessary after the year we’ve had, yes?

“You’re not normal about Potter. No one acts like this!”

“Pansy. He’s a celebrity. He’s universally adored. Everyone takes note of whose robes he buys and where he dines and — and — where he holidays, and for how long.”

“No, honey, that’s just you.” 

50 words, for @drarrymicrofic prompt honey

Please feast your eyes on the gorgeousness that is @sadfishkid ‘s art! Tasha was kind enough to do these commissions for me and I haven’t been able to drag my eyes away from these amazing pieces. I love love love everything about them!!!! 💙💙💙 Those are two scenes from my fic I Bloom Just For You.

If you want to commission this amazing and sweet artist, here’s their commission info!

Come work at the cafe, she said. It’ll be fun, she said.

Harry frowns at the cups lined up next to the espresso machine, the three letters marked on each in Pansy’s architectural script mocking him. If he never sees another Pumpkin Spice Latte again it will be too soon.

He adjusts his cap on his forehead, air cooling his brow. While the water filters through the coffee, he shifts his glare to Pansy at the counter chatting up a customer — another Karen having dropped her kiddies at school, most likely.

Pansy turns a red-lipped smile to him, and he gives her two fingers, sod off with your bloody PSL. Her smile slides to a smirk as she shifts to the side. Harry catches a flash of white-blonde hair. Fuck! He quickly lowers his obscene gesture, and immediately burns his hand on a jet of steam. He grits his teeth against the sting and gets back to work.

Ten minutes later, he hands a PSL to the gorgeous blonde bloke with the ice grey eyes and delectable arse who has frequented the cafe daily for the past two weeks.

“Yours isn’t the best Pumpkin Spice Latte in town, you know.” The bloke smirks and fuck if Harry doesn’t swoon despite the criticism.

“Yeah, well, it’s a posh, pretentious drink,” Harry snarks, regretting that extra dash of cinnamon on the whip, perfect arse or not.

Blondie sips his drink thoughtfully. “There’s something different— ”

“Must be that additional spoon of pumpkin sauce he puts in yours,” the Karen at the sugar bar interjects. “And only yours. Every day. For the past two weeks.”

Harry’s ears flame hot. Fuck you very much, Karen.

Blondie hums behind twitching lips. “Midtown Cafe might be better… ” he says, and Harry bristles. “…but I like my Pumpkin Spice sweet.” His eyes sparkle, and Harry feels it in his fingertips. “Just like the barista.”

The Karens seated at the table laugh and raise their cups, and Harry decides PSL is the best thing ever.

* * * In honor of National Pumpkin Spice Day, 1 October, 2020, here’s my day one drabble of my self-imposed Autumn Drarry Challenge! Send me an ask if you’d like! Reference this post for potential prompts to send! Enjoy xo peach

Read on AO3

Harry Potter has a tiny dick. And oh, how Draco loves it.

@kinktober2023 day 1: Micro/Macro

Draco/Harry, E, 500 words

Harry Potter Has a Small Cock, Multiple Orgasms, Blow Jobs

Inspired by Potter's Got a Tiny Dick (that I can't stop thinking about swallowing whole) by @vukovich

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my contribution to the September Drawble Challenge. This is my first time tackling a more realistic style of figure drawing, which I found challenging, but still enjoyed.

cw: injury detail/implied violence