grey skies, grey eyes

Drarry as Onion Articles (pt. 1?)

Illustration for "In Evidence of Magical Theory" by @bixgirl1

draco's first time eating muggle burger...without cutlery

I have read a work of GAY LITERATURE that did not make me immediately run to a03 for fan content.

You are thinking to yourself, “But Theo, I have read gay books that are simply not that good and I have no desire to linger in that book with those characters.” Yeah bro, me too. I also love dumb erotic brain popcorn about hockey players. That’s not what I’m talking about actually, hold tight!

What makes this situation unique in my life is the REASON I have not sprinted to a03. These books were SO GOOD, so meticulously planned, so painfully tragic and romantic, the characters were so ROUNDED and AWFUL and SCREAMINGLY, SEARINGLY PERFECT, that I cannot fathom reading fic about them.

There is one person I trust to write more about these people in their world, and that person is CS PACAT BECAUSE THE BOOKS ARE THE FUCKING DARK RISE BOOKS.

Like, please understand. I am a child of the 00s. I grew up roleplaying Drarry on fucking Facebook Forum, I read and wrote Drarry fic like my life depended on it. I came up in a fandom with inarguably garbage source material that the fans made something BEAUTIFUL out of — that’s its own beautiful and shiny thing, love that for us, I still draw crummy Drarry art because I still have Drarry brain rot.

I am also NOT A STRANGER TO PACAT! I started with Captive Prince, I love Captive Prince, but you know what? I also love Captive Prince fic.

There’s something that Pacat has done with Dark Rise that seems like it was specifically built for me, fucking *Collar* style. I cannot stop thinking about it, I cannot stop pacing about it, I have never before understood the term “going feral” like I do right now, but I CANNOT SOOTHE MYSELF IN THE ONLY WAY I KNOW (read: fic) BECAUSE I NEED TO KNOW WHAT REALLY HAPPENS TO THEM.

I am also 100% sure that this is at least in part because the series is not finished and some part of my lizard brain is like, trying to keep this experience pure while it’s still happening.

(I've been wanting to write a Pride and Prejudice inspired Drarry story for a while. I'm writing it as a full-length fic that I won't start posting on Ao3 till I have a few chapters written in full. Meanwhile, I'm posting it as ficlets here on Tumblr.

Warning: This is going to be very silly and campy. Also, I know it makes more sense to have Draco as Mr. Darcy but my heart really really wanted him as Lizzy, and so there's tremendous amount of twisting to fit that narrative 😅)

Chapt 1: Cissy & Portia

Narcissa Black was a changed woman. The tides of war had swept over her life and when they retreated, they took her husband, his significant fortune, and her desire to perch atop the social pyramid. In retrospect, those things had brought her nothing but anxiety and it was just as well that they were gone. 

These days, Narcissa lived for simple joys and her children. The actual one and all the other strays that she had taken under her wing. Oh. And for Portia as well she supposed, blushing a bit at the thought.

As if on cue, the beautiful Portia Zabini bustled into the library where Narcissa sat behind the desk with a book.

“Narcissa! Darling! You would not believe what has happened,” exclaimed the excitable woman.

“Then perhaps you shouldn’t tell me and save yourself the wasted effort.”

“Oh! Cissy!,” Portia cried, flicking her handkerchief at her, “you wicked woman! If you weren’t so pretty, I would be so mad at you.”

Narcissa couldn’t help but smile. “All right. Tell me.”

“Netherfield Park is let, at last! And you would not believe who has taken it! Ronald Weasley!"

Narcissa frowned at that information. Ronald Weasley was a child. Well, not a child technically, but a child to the likes of them. Why was Portia excited at the notion of … Her blood ran cold at the thought. Portia with her propensity to marry powerful men …

Portia flopped down on her lap and put her arms around her neck. “Silly goose, I’m talking about our children.” 

Narcissa couldn’t help but let out a bark of laughter. “Our children!”

“The Weasleys are rich now. With monetary rewards from the war and their very successful family business. The gossip through the grapevine is that Ronald Weasley has not been promised to anyone. Imagine! Pureblood. Rich. Single. What a fine thing for our boys!”

“Darling, the Weasleys hate our children! Need I remind you that Draco took the dark mark? He almost killed Ronald Weasley.”

Portia waved her concerns away. “That was ages ago –”

“Three years.”

“Bygones are bygones.”

“Are they?”

“The children are serving their sentences. The Wizengamot thinks community service is enough penance to wipe off their crimes, why should anyone else think differently?”

“Oh, Portia.”

“And even if he doesn’t want Draco or Greg or Vince, perhaps he will fancy Blaise or Theo. There might be a wedding sooner than you expect. As soon as they move in darling, we must visit them. The Parkinsons have already made plans to do so.”

Narcissa couldn’t help but laugh at her partner’s detachment from reality. “Count me out. You can visit alone if you like and convey our approval for Ronald Weasley marrying whichever of our delinquent children he likes. He can even have them all.”

Portia got up from her lap in a huff. “Must you vex me so? Oh to have suffered seven husbands only to find a beautiful woman and discover that she is no better! I will get all the children married. You just wait and see!”

Narcissa watched her lover flounce out of the room with an attitude. Her arse looked delectable in the tight skirt she was wearing. Portia Zabini was a force of nature. Perhaps the children really would all be married by the end of the year. She shuddered at the thought, before remembering her resolution to take life easy and not worry about such bothersome matters.

Pride & Prejudice - A Drarry tale

(see previous chapter)

Chapter 7: Harry Potter

The humble village of Meryton had never been graced by a celebrity before. That was made clear by the excitement that reached fever pitch when Potter was spotted amongst the Weasley party as they arrived at the Beltane celebrations by a Pegasus driven carriage. Much to Draco’s mortification, people had actually clapped (clapped!) as Ron Weasley, his sister, one of his brothers with his veela wife, and Harry Potter stepped onto the celebration grounds.

For quite a while, all Draco could hear was murmurings about the Saviour’s vivid green eyes, numerous Gringott vaults and strong jawline.

However, the sighing and fawning gradually petered out as Potter continued to stand glumly in a dark corner, refusing to dance or engage in conversation. When approached by enthusiastic townsfolk, he either answered in monosyllables or simply stared them down.

Soon, it became clear that as far as popular sentiment was concerned, defeating a dark lord and saving everyone's skin did not absolve one from the grave sin of being unsociable. Within the span of an hour, Potter had gone from being The Chosen One to The Arrogant One, and the talk of the gathering was no longer his broad shoulders and midnight Black hair but his “haughty airs”, his “condescending manners” and “arrogant demeanour".

Highly amused by how things were turning out, Draco almost didn't mind the conversation he later overheard. Almost.

He had retreated to the shadows to catch his breath after a very lively round of jumping the bonfire that had seen him divest himself of his long cloak and roll up his shirt sleeves.

“Brooding as usual, or are you annoyed at something in particular?” He couldn't help but overhear the loud voice of Ron Weasley from the other side of the rose bush.

Instead of moving away, Draco inched closer, curiosity getting the better of him.

“I’m not brooding.” A quieter, deeper voice. Potter. “I danced and I talked. Same as you.”

“You danced once with Ginny and chatted with Bill. The point of a party is to mingle with the people that you didn't arrive with.”

“Well you're hogging the only person in the … who … worth talking to,” Potter grumbled, his voice slightly cut off from the orchestra that had begun to play again.

Draco almost gasped. Did Potter have a crush on Blaise? This was news! He angled his ear in their direction, trying to hear better.

“Blaise?”

“Well he seems sensible … good looking, … more than I can say for …. Not that I'm interested, but forgive … not wanting to dance with Crabbe or –”

“Why not … Draco? … easy on the eyes. … go talk … apology letter … ball’s in your court”

“Malfoy?” Draco cringed as Potter yelled incredulously. “You can’t be serious!”

Weasley made shushing noises but to no avail. Potter was bent on expressing his disgust at the suggestion of socialising with Draco.

“I'm not going to dance with Draco fucking Malfoy.”

“For for fucks sake Harry, someone could hear you! Merlin! I wasn't suggesting you elope with the bloke. Maybe if you talked you'd realise he's changed and could be friends.”

Potter scoffed. “... know what I think of all of that,” he said sharply.

Draco spun around and left. Harry Potter was a prick. He'd always been a prick and would remain a prick. There was a brief period after the war when Draco had lost sight of this fact, being overwhelmed with gratitude towards Potter for giving a statement in his defence. But it all came rushing back now. Harry Potter may be the poster boy for the light side, he may be brave and good, but that didn’t change the fact that he was a judgmental, condescending git.

Determined not to let stupid Potter spoil his evening, Draco set off to search for Pansy and Blaise. A dramatic comic reenactment of the overheard conversation might be just the thing to lift his mood.