#baker!draco

Potter appears at half-twelve in his Auror robes. Draco had planned to forcibly not look at him, but he can’t help it.

Because Potter looks at the biscuits first. He gazes at them, seeming utterly lovesick, and actually startles when he sees the note.

He blinks hard and shakes his head. Opens his mouth. Shuts it again.

And then—yes, yes!—he stalks to the door of the shop, his crimson robes billowing dramatically behind him. He throws the door open and strides inside. Potter puts his hand out, and Draco’s parchment wings across the air and lands in Potter’s palm.

“It’s bloody treacle tart flavoured, you tosser?” Potter reads in a disbelieving tone, then lifts his eyes to meet Draco’s. “Is this for me?”

“Who else would it be for?” Draco coughs loudly. “I mean. Hello. What could I get for you? A biscuit?”

Potter stares at him, then takes a tentative step forwards. He’s in a dark green jumper this time, also with a large white H on the front. “What is this?”

“A bakery.”

“I know that. But you—”

“Frankly, I can’t see how it’s any of your business.”

“What?”

“Have a bloody biscuit, Potter. You’ve been mooning over them for days!”

“I have not,” Potter snaps.

“You have so. It’s a window, not a brick wall. Or has your eyesight got worse since school?”

Potter glares, his eyes black behind his glasses. “Sod off, Malfoy,” he says, then completely undermines himself by sodding off on his own.

Read Sweet to Your Taste on AO3

Title: Passion Cake

Author: ICMezzo

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 19400

Tags: Amortentia, Baker!Draco, Aphrodisiacs, Oblivious Harry, Asexuality, Humour + more

Summary:

It’s all about desire. (Harry orders a magically enhanced cake from a chic London bakery, and from there it all goes to hell in a cake tin. Also, will someone please tell Harry what Passion Cake is?)

Rec Notes:

I can’t tell you enough how much fun I had reading this. There were so many fun details, from needing a wand signature so get the cake to Harry’s owl that needs glasses and crashes into everything , and Harry negotiating ‘open curtain time’ with Walburga. FYI, Son of a Centaur is now my new favourite expression 😂

Harry’s journey was so beautiful, from oblivious to wanting to feel what everyone else feels. The alternating sections from Draco’s POV were a perfect balance. As a baker, I loved his methodical baking process and the passion he put into each dessert. The Amortentia-laced bonbons were a delight and I loved watching the cogs turn in Draco’s head as he tried to figure Harry’s needs out. Such a fun and gorgeous piece. I highly recommend it.

Excerpt:

(I’m just going to quote several random lines that I loved because there are so many good ones).

He took another bite of his cake. It was delicious—the best he’d had in ages, actually—but he didn’t know how cake could be good enough to get someone pregnant.

Harry was just feeling a little sorry for himself. He never seemed to feel what everyone else was feeling, and realizing it was happening again exhausted him down to his bones.

When Harry agreed, verbally and in writing, because Malfoy was a wanker, he was finally handed his piece of the tart.

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Pansy Parkinson/Blaise Zabini Additional Tags: Denial, First Time, Rimming, Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, Switching, Romance, Humor, Swearing, Banter, Hogwarts Eighth Year Summary:

Cooking. The Muggle Way. Without any Magic. Definitely Draco’s idea of hell. Unless, of course, it leads to much more interesting activities with one Harry Potter. But wait. Draco’s into girls, right?

Excerpt:

“Okay? God, this is beyond amazing. Do you have any idea how good you are?”

Draco felt his heart beat faster at Potter’s compliment. “Well, what do you think, Potter, of course I do! I’m the most talented, skilled, brilliantly sharp mind you have ever met.”

Potter chuckled and put the empty plate away. “If only you would believe in your own propaganda,” he muttered, and their eyes locked. For a second, Draco’s whole world seemed to be reduced to this tiny spot near the table.

“Well…” he shrugged, looking away.

And then it happened.

Before Draco could realise what was going on, Potter lunged at him and crushed his mouth on his, holding him in place with his hands on his cheeks.

 It took a couple of seconds for him to realise what was going on, and then the force of what was happening hit him like a brick and he felt himself responding to Potter’s kiss. 

He felt one of Potter’s hands move from his cheeks to the nape of his neck while the other ran down the small of his back, bringing their bodies flush together.

The pure adrenalin of it rushed to Draco’s head. Potter was kissing him like he was chasing the Snitch on the Quidditch pitch: with passion, strength and determination. He slammed Draco into the workstation and intensified the kiss, and Draco let out a low moan, completely overwhelmed with sensations - the heat of Potter’s body, his dizzying scent mingled with the delicious smell of the chocolate cakes, the pressure of his hard chest and - bloody Salazar! - his very obvious arousal.

Feeling Potter’s erection against his own was like a wake-up call. Suddenly Draco realised the enormity of what they were doing and shoved Potter hard, keeping the boy at arm’s length. He couldn’t. He just couldn’t. That was not-

“No.”

“Draco-”

“NO!”

Draco was a Master. He'd always been one, but having a town of Muggles consider him as close to God's gift as they would ever receive was certainly validating. Except it wasn't enough. After years of settling, of conjuring masterpieces with his fingers and his prowess, Draco realised he needed a change.