the most unrealistic fanfic trope, imo, is the one where one half of the pair works in some sort of shop and one is a customer bc I have literally never thought about a customer with anything other than contempt
I feel like Auror Harry has long hair and wears a lot of leather - I usually don’t think of him as an Auror - but since I asked about the AU’s I started thinking about it more. I can imagine his rebellious side taking over and if you pair THIS with a remorseful Healer Draco…yeah can see the appeal. IT IS THERE. Consider me won over.
I am so pleased to present the first portrait in my HP series: Draco! It’s terribly fun drawing these characters as I saw them while reading the books.
A few of you requested Luna or the Weasley twins, so expect one of those two portraits next! Feel free to leave suggestions for the series as well.
So it’s eighth year and the whole school does Muggle Studies now. It’s compulsory. It’s easier to fear what you don’t understand, is Mcgonnagal’s new motto. Easier to hate. Easier to judge.
Harry doesn’t mind. There’s a specially warded room in the library now, filled with computers and his compulsory class, the one all the eighth years are in, is film studies. Which basically just means each of them has to pick a Muggle movie and they get to kill half a day in the old Astronomy room watching it and then arguing about it.
It hadn’t started out as arguing. It had started out as apathy. Staring at the screen in the darkness and trying desperately not to let all the other thoughts come in. They were a small group, just a few from each house. Harry had been surprised to see Malfoy back, after everything. But even Malfoy was quiet, to start with.
It had changed when Dean had suggested X-Men for his movie of choice. Malfoy’s comments had been restrained to start with; muttered asides to Nott and Zabini from the other side of the room. But then he’d made a particularly disparaging remark about Muggles and magic wannabees, and Harry hadn’t been able to help himself. He’d snapped back. And that had been the start of it – a steady stream of movie critique that ran from plot realism, to dialogue choice to characters’ fashion sense.
He couldn’t help himself. Every opinion Malfoy had, Harry had the opposite.
It got to the point where the rest of the group complained so much about the constant interruptions to the movies that Harry and Malfoy were banished to one of the back couches together and told to keep it down if they wanted to keep going on about it.
So then things became interesting. Then Harry was sitting in the dark, beside Malfoy. Then Harry had Malfoy leaning over, whispering in his ear, hot breath against his cheek. Then Harry started to realise that some time in the last few weeks, Malfoy’s comments had gone from disparaging to … funny. Still sharp and cutting but not something he necessarily objected to anymore. Not that he didn’t keep objecting, of course.
Knowing Malfoy was getting worked up beside him, feeling Malfoy’s shoulder leaning into his as he moved closer to make his points more emphatically was … fast becoming the highlight of Harry’s week. He didn’t quite know why that was. Didn’t quite know how he’d slowly become more and more aware of Malfoy beside him in the dark. He found himself wondering how it might feel to move just those last few centimetres – to take Malfoy’s pale hand as he gesticulated to make his point … to slip a hand onto his leg and feel the muscles of his thigh. To maybe move his hand higher.
As Malfoy leaned in to make his points each week, Harry found himself wondering how it might feel to tilt his head. To feel Malfoy’s breath on his neck, Malfoy’s lips and teeth against his skin.
It would only take a fraction of a movement. But he didn’t move. Couldn’t. And neither did Malfoy.
It was when they were watching Brokeback Mountain, Seamus’ choice this time, that Harry realised Malfoy was being uncharacteristically quiet. He glanced across to see Malfoy’s eyes glued to the screen and found himself suddenly, intensely aware of the way they were sitting in the dark, Malfoy’s leg pressed the length of his, Malfoy’s arm warm against his side.
He looked back at the screen and felt himself flush in response to what he saw – two men in a tent together. Two men who wanted each other so badly it hurt, who would ruin their lives to be with each other.
Suddenly Harry wanted – needed – to know what Malfoy thought of the story. He didn’t know if he could take some cutting remark this time.
He leaned across, hearing a catch of breath as Malfoy responded to his movement.
‘Nothing to say about this one?’ he whispered, face so close to Malfoy’s ear that Malfoy would only have to move the smallest amount and Harry’s lips would be on his skin.
Malfoy shivered so slightly that Harry would have missed it if their bodies weren’t pressed together down one side.
Then Malfoy twisted, so he was half-facing Harry, and moved his head so they were cheek to cheek. Malfoy’s voice was low and raspy in his ear when he replied. ‘I have so much to say about this one,’ he said. His lips brushed Harry’s skin, so softly that he almost thought he’d imagined it. ‘If you want to hear it?’ Malfoy finished, something in his voice hesitant – vulnerable.
It was this, more than anything, that gave Harry the courage to brush his cheek then length of Malfoy’s – to reach up and cup Malfoy’s face with one hand as he brought their lips together. Malfoy’s mouth was hot and sweet and the slide of their tongues together made something burst into life in Harry’s chest. He groaned and deepened the kiss. Malfoy responded instantly, pulling him closer. Harry’s hands dropped to Malfoy’s hips and he urged him to move, groaning as Malfoy straddled him, sinking down against him.
Neither of them noticed the Muffliato that was cast over them, or the chorus of ‘Finally’ that ringed the room as they got lost in each other.
Okay so what if Harry’s just different after the war. But it’s not the different people would expect. It’s not trauma and pain and silence and loss … It’s this strange sort of normality, where he’s Harry … but not quite Harry.
At first Draco can’t pinpoint what it is. He can see Granger and Weasley haven’t figured it out either, from the way the former always has a little worried half frown when she sees Harry joking or laughing with that slightly wrong expression. Weasley on the other hand seems to be hurt by Harry’s ability to carry on life like none of it had ever happened. His face darkens when Harry casually skips past mentions of the brother he lost and Draco can’t help thinking the behaviour is very … un-Harry.
It takes him two months to figure it out. Two months of watching Harry - watching almost everyone around him accept this new smiling, laughing - shallow Potter. It’s not just that he’s happy … he doesn’t have the same sarcastic quips. He doesn’t eat his food so fast you’d think someone was about to take it from him. He doesn’t have that same razor awareness of his surroundings … he barely ever catches Draco watching him.
It’s the fact that they share a common room now that leads him to the secret. He sees Harry come out of his room one night, sadness floating across his face in a way Draco hasn’t seen all year - that depth of world weariness in his eyes. He’s got his cloak over his arm and the moment he leaves the room, Draco slips into his bedroom, determined to find whatever it was that had brought back a trace of the old Harry.
It takes half an hour of searching and multiple spells before he finds the chest hidden inside the window seat. He hesitates before opening it. He doesn’t really have any right to be spying on Harry … but this isn’t Harry. Not really. And he needs to know why.
When he cracks it open, he just stares, breath caught in his throat. It’s bottles … hundreds of tiny bottles, each glowing blue with a whisp of curling memory. He picks one up to read the tiny tag.
The words make his breath catch.
Punishment for ruining shirt. Iron burns. 8 yo
He puts it down as though it’s burned him and picks up another.
Locked in cupboard. Three days. No toilet. 7 yo
He feels bile rising is his throat as he picks up another.
Dropped breakfast. Ate off floor. 4 yo (?)
He scans the bottles. There are twenty or thirty of similar ages and he feels a horrified shock running through him. He wonders distantly if Weasley and Granger know this. Then he looks again at the bottles, more labels jump out at him.
Burned Quirrel’s face - first meeting with V. 11 yo
Accused by school. Spat at and hexed. 12 yo
Hunted by Basilisk. Bitten. Thought I would die. 12 yo
Draco feels a gut wrenching sadness run through him as he looks over the bottles. There are so many more. Years worth. He sees a larger one, the size of his clenched fist and picks it up, cradling it. At least twenty memories swirl around inside, mingling and then separating.
The tag simply reads, Sirius.
He’s sitting there when Harry comes back. The bottles are placed neatly around him and he’s seen the spread of Harry’s fear and doubt and sadness and loss and pain. He feels paralyzed by the magnitude of it.
When Harry asks what he’s doing, he doesn’t look up from the tiny vial in his hand.
The tag reads, My death, seventeen years old.
Harry doesn’t shout or hex him or do anything Draco would expect. Instead he picks his way through the bottles to sit down beside Draco, leaning back against the wall.
‘It’s better this way,’ he murmurs.
Draco does look over then, and Harry’s face has that look he’s had all year. And Draco realises why it bothers him so much. This is Harry without his childhood, without the trials he’s overcome, without the losses that have shaped and forged him. He still has shadows of the memories, sure, but he doesn’t feel them anymore.
This is not Harry.
‘It’s not better,’ he says, voice intense, not even questioning why he so suddenly needs to convince the boy in front of him.
Harry frowns then, breaks Draco’s gaze. ‘It hurts too much to hold all of that,’ He gestures at the bottles that litter the floor and his voice holds a trace of bitterness.
Draco doesn’t know what to say to that. Who is he to ask Harry Potter - Saviour of the Wizarding World - to live with the trauma the wizarding world forced on him.
Then he thinks of the bottles he could make - the memories he could shed. He thinks of the Mind Healer his mother arranged for him over the summer break. He rubs his forearm absently as he thinks of tears and rage and shame … and the beginnings of healing.
He looks across at Harry. 'This,’ he says with the same gesture at the bottles. 'All of this - is you. You overcame it. You grew from it. You learned from it. You - you probably wouldn’t have done what you did without it.’
He looks down at the bottle he still holds.
My death.
'Remembering is hard,’ he says looking across at the bottles marked Sirius, Fred, Lupin, Dobby, Hedwig. He remembers what the Healer told him as he’d mourned his father.
'Forgetting the bad bits though, means you forget the good as well … it means you forget the person.’ He looks at Harry and sees the same sadness from earlier echoed in his eyes.
'I know it’s none of my business, but I don’t think you should forget them.’
Harry reaches out with shaking fingers to stroke over each of the bottles in turn. 'I’m scared to remember,’ he whispers.
Draco looks at him and the words are on his lips before he can think.
I Am Not Okay With This (2020- ), Titanic (1997), Stranger Things (2016- ), Silver Linings Playbook (2012), Black Panther (2018),
The Breakfast Club (1985),
Sex Education (2019- ),
The Walking Dead (2010- ), Bring It On (2000), Derry Girls (2018- )
“He held himself up on all fours above me and made me reach up for his mouth—and I did. I would again. I’d cross every line for him.
I’m in love with him.
And he likes this better than fighting.”
i feel like this snippet in carry on is under appreciated , like that’s kind of really hot imo lmaoo
so i drew it :p i literally had to make my own reference because the internet didn’t know what i wanted. yknow how awkward taking my own pictures of this scene was???? very!!
It’s so weird that I found Skam because of eyewitness. I saw a YouTube video featuring moments of the first ep and I’m really into that murder stuff so I was watching it every week and then started following people on tumblr to see their theories but a lot of people who posted about eyewitness also posted about skaM s3 since they were airing at the same time.. after s3 ended I finally gave in to see what all the fuss was about... now look haha
isn’t it crazy how much crossover there is in certain fandoms?
Not only that, but how a single reblog or a spiral that one of the people on your dashboard goes on– and all the sudden you must know EVERYTHING about a show and then you have a new obsession, just like that?
