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VIII. Crystal

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Turned out having breakfast with Harry Potter also meant having dinner with him.

The bastard eased Draco into it. “I’m making curry tonight, you want some?”

Spiraling out of his control, Draco went from rarely seeing Potter to twice a day. Potter’s cooking being just as good at night as it was in the morning was the only upside. 

The rising daylight was accompanied by, what Draco regrets to acknowledge, was amiable silence as they prepared for the arduous days ahead of them. The nighttime was accompanied by actual conversations. It start menially: a bunch of “how was your day?”s and “who do you think will win Quidditch?”. Then Potter would bring up a memory from their eight year and Draco would start gossiping about their old classmates.

On it went, from polite chatter to affable talk then friendly banter—or from an outside perspective: verbal war. 

“You almost murdered me once,” followed by: “Like you wouldn’t’ve.”

“You were a prick in school,” proceeded by: “You weren’t?”

One night they finished eating and Potter asked, “You want a drink?”

Draco, exhausted and always susceptible to alcoholic bribes, said yes.

Potter took out firewhisky from the liquor cabinet and poured it into two matching crystal cups.

Their conversations reached their inevitable climax: quasi-flirtation. Perhaps it was the heat from the liquor—the heat radiating off of Potter—but the air felt tight-knit with tension. It might have been Draco’s imagination warping the way Potter smirked around his glass. The light from the room refracted off the crystal somehow made his green eyes shine even brighter.

“Draco,” his name coming out of Potter’s lips sounded indecent, like intruding on a tender moment. “I’m glad you’re here.” 

Draco pretended he said it with sober fondness and not drunken impulse. He allowed himself this one thing.

next ->

prompt list previous days

love drawing hc women with disproportionately and impractically huge weapons

It started slowly. The accidental brush of scarlet robes as they hurriedly passed one another in the dreary ministry corridor. Sweaty elbows bumping together, simultaneously drawing wands in combat. A gentle sweep of long cool fingers against Harry’s as he handed over crumpled departmental memos. The barely there press of a lithe body as Harry reached around to retrieve teabags in the auror’s kitchen. A warm breath on Harry’s cheek, huffed out laughter at Weasley’s latest one-liners at pub night after work. A pointy shoulder, strength and sinew crushed against Harry’s at the bar, and those soft grey eyes never leaving his face. Searching, then dropping low to Harry’s parted lips. An insistent knee pressing between his thighs, heated hands clutching at hips. It started slowly, but it would finish fast.

Judgmental Golden trio and the twins! Love them all🥰

Can any of you guess who’s actually Fred and who’s George? To the first person who does maybe I’ll draw you a little doodle 👀

and here's a quick fem!drarry

The cutest couple❤️

I’m glad ppl on tiktok are doing ok

I just know that dating her must be a nightmare.

To know and not to know; to be aware of complete truthfulness while telling carefully constructed lies; to simultaneously hold two opinions which cancel out, knowing them to be contradictory while believing in both of them; to use logic against logic; to repudiate morality while laying claim to it; to believe democracy was impossible and that the Party was the guardian of democracy; to forget whatever was necessary to forget, then to draw it back into memory at the moment it was needed, then promptly forget it again; and above all, to apply the same process to the process itself—that is the ultimate subtlety: to consciously induce unconsciousness and, once again, become unconscious of the hypnosis you have just performed.

I found this poem in an old notebook and I'm a bit shocked at my own writing.

Drarry doing an interview with Vanity Fair! From Ch 12 of PAMGTTI

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55248235/chapters/140140240