Not To Sound Like A Christian Facebook Mom But Some Of Yall Need To Have Grace In Your Hearts For The

mid-story lines

thanks for tagging me @garagepaperback <3 @faiell <3 and @astralrainn <3

rules: pluck a juicy morsel from somewhere in the middle of up to 10 of your fics (I've taken garage's invitation to pad things out with material from the WIP mines, and you should too) and tag up to 10 people accordingly

rational economic actors

Trapped like a fish caught euphoric on its hook.

the bower

There must be an overflowing abundance of pleasure, a cornucopia of sensuous flavours and savoury sexual favours. A hearty ravishing, a Bacchanalian rhapsody in blond. Harry’s performance must have perfect pitch from overture and hors d'oeuvres to satiated ovation.

gimme friction

“Do you guys know any, y’know—spells?”

---

and a bonus from the un-published stuff:

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Harry said, dropping Malfoy’s hand as if he’d been caught pinching his coin purse.

“Freak.”

Surely this wasn’t romance.

the long game

It was reckless, almost, to go around in such a state of sexual frustration.

🚧 📂 WIP zone 📂🚧 (ooh, ahh, mysterious)

orgy for two

"The Auror orgy isn’t real, Draco."

untitled sex magic story

Was it awkward, having Draco Malfoy’s penis in his mouth? Was it erotic? All he could officially say was it certainly was happening.

untitled role play thing

He’d signed up for a bit of cheeky role play, sure, but he wasn’t prepared to keep track of side characters.

untitled sad auror academy story

He knew most people didn’t need to come close to losing their lives in order to feel them.

without having at all kept track of who's already done this (although consider - there are always more lines) I'll tag @fluffyunderneath @its-the-allure @the-forbidden-forest @toomuchplor @tackytigerfic @jupitersbetrayal and whoever else sees this and wants to join in :)

The cutest couple❤️

Two crows were observed perched silently atop a street light during a misty morning in coastal California. ♡

When I say “I love this artist” I either know 5 of their songs that I play on repeat or I know their entire discography and you just have to guess which one it is

It's not a memory Harry will ever forget—Hermione, stressed out of her mind, clutching a little blue box from the muggle pharmacy. She'd kept messing up the charm, which was the real giveaway that she was panicking, so Harry had gone to buy it.

He sat on the other side of the bathroom door.

It was shit timing. She was in the middle of her second year exams for magical law school. Ron was in Japan for the four weeks of the Quidditch World Cup, having been selected as one of just two assistant coaches for England after his meteoric rise as the junior coach for the Chudley Cannons, taking them from bottom of the league to third place nationally in just two years.

When Hermione comes out of the bathroom, Harry sits up straighter. "What'd it say?"

"It's not immediate," she says, voice high. She sits on the floor beside him. "We have to wait a few minutes." Hand trembling, she casts a countdown charm, then puts her head between her knees. Harry rubs a hand between her shoulder blades.

When her wand vibrates, she shakes her head, voice still high-pitched. "I can't look. I can't."

So Harry climbs to his feet and walks into the bathroom, to find the little plastic stick resting on the counter.

There are two pink lines, a perfect match.

Hermione looks up at him, face already wet, and he crouches down in front of her. "It's positive."

She bursts into fresh tears. "I c-can't have a baby. I can't! But Ron—Ron's g-going to h-hate me if I—if I get rid—"

"Shhh, shh," he pulls her tight against his chest. "No he won't. Ron loves you. It's okay. You don't have to start—" Something lodges briefly in his throat. "—a family yet." He smooths a hand over her bushy hair. "It's way too soon. You haven't even finished getting fifty degrees."

Among the great, big heaving sobs, she gives a broken, snotty laugh into his shirt.

Six years later, two weeks after his twenty-seventh birthday, Hermione is the one smoothing his hair back as he retches into the toilet. He's been feeling shit for days, and he's fucking over it. Finally, he sits back against the tiles, stomach muscles aching.

Ron's in the doorway, rocking baby Hugo to sleep. "Blimey, Harry. What did you eat? Slugs?"

Harry snorts weakly, reminded of second year. Eat slugs, Malfoy. Malfoy, his auror partner of almost two years now. Malfoy, who's been shagging him quite thoroughly for the last five weeks. Harry misses him, which feels pathetic, given he's only gone to Paris for three days with his mother. But it feels like a fucking lifetime when Harry's feeling so under the weather.

"I don't know," he answers, coughing at the lingering taste of bile. "I tried some Pepper Up, it hasn't helped at all."

"Harry," Hermione says slowly, a peculiar look in her eyes. "Have you been seeing someone?"

"Um. That's… a bit out of the blue." He presses a fingernail into a nearby line of grout, dropping his gaze.

"That's not a no."

He feels his face grow hot. He and Malfoy still haven't had the 'what are we' talk yet; there hasn't really been a lot of talking in general, to be honest. "Yeah. I—think so. I mean I am. Yes."

"Okay." She pulls out her wand, and Harry eyes it, alarmed. "I'm going to cast a... diagnostic charm on you. I want to check something."

"O...kay?" he echoes, wiping his forehead with the sleeve of his t-shirt. "I'm not under a love spell or anything."

"No, that's not—" She does a complex charm pattern in the air, and a pale blue glow fills the room.

Ron sucks in a sharp breath. "Holy fuck, are you saying he's—?!"

Hermione nods, eyes bright. "Harry—"

"Ten galleons it's Malfoy's," Ron says in a rush.

"Ron!" Hermione scolds. "Now is not the time! And I'm not taking that bet, I'm not stupid."

"Excuse me," Harry says. "What the fuck are you guys talking about?"

She crouches in front of Harry, and takes his hand.

"Harry. I think you're pregnant."

Match 👶 Day 16 of @peachydreamxx and @uncannycerulean’s prompts. Full collection on ao3.

You’re telling me that in a series with the main lesson being the power of love, Harry saving the day with Draco’s wand is supposed to mean nothing????

Part 1 b/c 10 photo make is not enough:

A few binds I made for my love @kushyreads

Who We Are in the Shadows by the talented @quicksilvermaid featuring art by yours truly which took me a whopping 16 HOURS!!!

Balance, Imperfect & That Old Black Magic by the amazing @bixgirl1

I’m literally obsessed with these fics and drarry and poured all my love into them

aww, i love myself too

Draco has never been good at waiting.

The day the Prophet breaks the story of the year, the decade, nay, the century—cover splashed with a blurry photograph featuring a nonetheless unmistakable bird's nest of hair and another man, topped off with the unimaginative yet direct headline, POTTER: GAY?—is the very same day Draco sits down across from Pansy in their favourite booth at Theo's Bar (also unimaginatively titled) and announces, with verve: "I have a plan."

Pansy sighs, sharp and judgemental. "Let me guess—"

"No," he interrupts. "Let me tell you."

"I already know this is about Harry fucking—"

"This is about Potter," he continues, talking loudly over her, "and my absolutely foolproof plan to get my hands on some Chosen Cock."

"Only your hands? Dream big, Draco," she says sarcastically, brow flat with irritation.

"Oh I am. Naturally this is only stage one. Stage five is marriage. Stage six? Impregnating him with the Malfoy heir."

"Not a visual I actually needed, thanks ever so!"

"You're not listening, Pans." He emphasises his point with a sharp slap to the tabletop. "You're not appreciating this for the life-changing moment it is. I am going to seduce Potter, and fuck him so hard he—"

"What?" comes an amused voice. "So hard I what, Malfoy?"

Draco's life flashes before his eyes, confirming that he's experiencing some sort of near-death phenomenon. He manages, somehow, to start breathing again, and affects a casual, unaffected lean against the booth seat, turning to face Harry Potter, giant wanker and wank-inspirer.

"Potter."

"Hi."

He's grinning, dark hair even more disastrous than that wretched photo. So annoying. Draco's never found him attractive in his entire life, actually.

"We were having a private conversation, very much not concerning you."

"Oh?" Those stupid green eyes are fixed on Draco's face. His grin is so. fucking. obnoxious. "Is there another Harry Potter you were hoping to impregnate?"

"Yes," Draco scowls, feeling his face grow blotchy. "You don't even make the top hundred. Sorry for the terrible blow, but you could stand to be taken down a peg or two."

"Oh, you know me." Potter spreads his arms. "I'm not averse to a good peg."

Pansy gags into her martini, as Draco tries to regain the feeling in his legs.

"Well," Potter shrugs, tucking his thumbs into his jeans. Merlin. Draco wants to climb him. "I guess I'll leave you be, then. Good luck impregnating that other fellow."

And then he's turning—leaving!—

"Wait!" Draco's hand shoots out, and the warmth of Potter's arm sends a shock right up through his fingers, tingling. "Perhaps you could be of some use, Scarhead."

There's a dimple threatening Draco's sanity, in the corner of Potter's cheek. "Yes, Draco?"

"Yes." He's such a prick. "Harry." Draco rubs a thumb against the inside of Potter's wrist, watching with great satisfaction as a shiver runs through him. "After all, I'll need someone to practice those impregnation skills on."

Waiting 🍸 Day 17 of @peachydreamxx and @uncannycerulean’s prompts. Full collection on ao3.

Unlike Harry, I will not wax poetic. Fuck Draco’s hair. Why is it so light. It’s not fuckin blonde but it’s not quite white and it is absolutely not grey. But if you make it too saturated it clashes with his skin tone, smh