my favorite thing i’ve ever realized about harry potter is that the gryffindor and slytherin tables are supposed to be on opposite ends of the great hall???
and therefore every time draco is making a scene at a meal (HEY POTTER HAVE YOU SEEN THE DAILY PROPHET??? HEY POTTER I’M MAKING STUPID FACES AT YOU BECAUSE THE DAILY PROPHET SAYS YOU’RE MAD!!! HEY POTTER I’M PRETENDING TO FAINT AT THE SIGHT OF A DEMENTOR LIKE YOU DID!!!!) he is making an extraordinary effort to be noticed across the entire hall
or harry is making an extraordinary effort to notice him
in my mind it always escalates into them standing on the tables and shouting at each other over the entire school
EXCUSE ME POTTER EXCUSE ME HAVE YOU NOTICED ME YET
NO MALFOY I HAVE NOT NOTICED YOU I NEVER NOTICE YOU GOD THERE’S MALFOY AT THE SLYTHERIN TABLE DOING A THING AGAIN GOD FUCK MALFOY HE’S ALWAYS DOING THINGS WHERE I CAN SEE HIM…THROUGH…CROWDS OF STUDENTS SEATED AT 4 TABLES…I DON’T NOTICE MALFOY…HE’S LOOKING REALLY ILL LATELY IS HE OKAY DO YOU THINK
In which Draco Malfoy is actually Helga Pataki from Hey Arnold! I think you can guess who Harry is…
Summary: Draco Malfoy has learned via painful experience that the least complicated way to go about things is to not allow himself to care — about anyone. After all, he’d tried that once without success. But now he finds himself thrust into a situation where maintaining the armour around his heart simply isn’t an option.
Excerpt: Draco shook his head, suddenly tired. “I don’t think you need anything from me, Potter. I gave up that little delusion when you disappeared five years ago.”
For a moment Potter looked as if Draco had struck him. He stared at him, then closed his eyes and shook his head.
“God, you’re the most infuriating…” He cut himself off with an angry huff and closed the distance between them so quickly that Draco scarcely had time to back away. When Potter had him backed into the wall, he leaned even closer, until they were separated my mere inches. “I needed something from you, Draco,” he said, his jaw tight. “You just weren’t prepared to give it.”
Summary: Harry and Draco have been falling into bed on and off again since the last election five years ago, much to the amusement—and financial gain—of their circle of friends. But when Harry agrees to work with Draco to put Kingsley Shacklebolt into the Minister’s office, they can’t work side-by-side again every day and sleep together; that would be courting disaster. Wouldn’t it?
Excerpt: “Potter, have you fucked him yet?”
“No, but he drank all my beer last night.”
Zabini swears. “See that you get a leg over before the end of the day. I have Galleons riding on it.”
“I wouldn’t mind riding on it,” Draco calls back over his shoulder, loud enough so everyone can hear, “but Potter won’t have me. He’s saving himself for his true love again.”
There’s a titter from the administrative bullpen behind me.
“I’m saving us all for the election,” I shout back at Draco, but all I get is two fingers flicked back at me before he turns the corner. Bastard.
This fic is so fucking perfect in every possible way I can’t even—
“Hmm..Shave before leaving the house”
“Can’t promise that”
It’s one those coffee flavoured “Goodbye, love” kisses that couples share in the morning before leaving for work. There’s probably a conversation full of silly inside jokes, teasing comments and surprisingly smoothly inserted innuendos by Harry, who has yet to finish his first cup of coffee, while Draco gets ready for work.
Also an unshaven Harry because Draco loves that, even though he’ll never admit that out load, the way he strokes Harry’s stubbly jaw says it all. Hence Draco wants him to shave, no one gets to see Harry like that but him. And that’s what I was thinking, (-lovespoon)
Summary: Harry Potter has only ever had two goals in life: to defeat Voldemort and to bring his followers to justice. One, he’s done. The other is in progress. It should be simple, except there’s one former Death Eater who doesn’t meet the right criteria.
Excerpt: “Jesus, Potter! You’re not– come on, mate. I’ve never done nothin’ to you, not really. You can’t just tie me up and–”
The word hissed softly under Harry’s breath, his focus absolute. Banished with a simple spell to a designated spot, the knife sailed across the kitchen, gathering velocity. With a sickening thud, it landed in Dolohov’s chest.
He screamed, coughed, sputtered, then fell silent.
Harry removed the spare wand from his pocket and set it on the kitchen table. No sense keeping it. He avoided Dolohov’s empty eyes as he made his way to the kitchen door and quietly left.
Serial killer!Harry: everything I never knew I wanted.
Summary: Draco is sort of fucked up. Harry is sort of fucked up and really really famous. Together they fight crime! Not in this fic, though. In this fic they have sex.
Excerpt: Meeting Harry’s eyes, Malfoy cut him off. “I’m not gay.”
Trying to find some sort of explanation on his features, Harry couldn’t read anything. Malfoy was just a blank, empty and cool and rather beautiful in ways he shouldn’t be, because Harry had never noticed it before and he was sure that other people didn’t, either. “You never go out with other people,” Harry said finally.
“Harry, do you think because I won’t date you I refuse to date other people?” Malfoy smiled then, a pretty thing. “Aren’t we a trifle arrogant?”
Harry remained stubborn. “I’ve never seen you date other people.”
“Been watching me, Potter?” Malfoy’s voice was lazy.
THIS FIC, Y’ALL. Harry and Draco are Auror partners. Harry is hopelessly in love with Draco, but Draco is asexual and doesn’t really do relationships. The characterization is spot on and their relationship is built up so naturally. I love it I love it I love it.
Summary: Harry Potter is the perfect Auror, Jared Sandborn is the perfect Minister, and they control the wizarding world between them. One late night at a Ministry gala, seven years after the war, Draco Malfoy finds out why—and what it might take to change things.
Excerpt: Draco grinned with all his teeth. “That word sold bothers you, doesn’t it? You don’t like hearing yourself referred to as the whore you are?”
Potter moved, turning smoothly to the side as he seized Draco’s shoulder and flung him against the wall. Draco jolted, breath gone and back of the head banging. Then Potter’s hand was behind his head, cradling him against further contact with the stone, even as his wand dug sharply into Draco’s windpipe.
“You like what you have?” Potter whispered harshly. “The lack of Ministry guard dogs? The way that you were permitted to keep your property and your money? The return of those artifacts that were seized as Dark and the fucking apologies you got? All that was me. Probe into it, and Sandborn can reverse the gains as easily.”
Draco stared. Potter quivered at him, his eyes so brilliant that Draco imagined he could see stars in them. His magic writhed about him in a slow, pale violet wave, climbing and falling back again, a manifestation at once of threat and control that Draco had never seen the equal of.
He licked his lips. This was the Potter he hadn’t seen for seven years, not the serene automaton who had spoken at his trial or the tame pet who had accepted the Minister’s decrees. This was the man Draco owed his debt to.
I don’t usually read WIPs, but this one is just way too good to wait for it to be completed. I’ve been keeping up with this one for a while and it’s all kinds of wonderful. Be warned though, it’s long. Like, 30 chapters and counting long. That’s pretty on par with all of lomonaaeren’s fics though, and they always get completed.
Summary: After an Auror mission gone wrong, Harry finds himself stranded on an island, where his only companions are a mute house-elf, a prickly owl, and an insufferable git. (Roughly) based on the story of Odysseus and Calypso from Homer’s Odyssey.
Excerpt: “Don’t tell me you’ve become one of those sad workaholic types—you’re not Robards, are you?”
Harry chuckles, recalling the long rants concerning their work-obsessed supervisor Draco had gone on back in the day. “No, not quite that bad. I just feel—it’s odd to do nothing, isn’t it? To be expected to do nothing?” He’s realizing that this is the evil he’s been searching for, the demon he hasn’t been able to trust. Draco shrugs and leans back.
“It’s called a holiday, Harry. I’m sure they didn’t teach you about them in the cupboard—”
“—but I’m certain you’ve become acquainted with them since.”
He had gone on holiday with one of his Calebs—a Caleb named Mitchell, actually. Just a long weekend in Barcelona, wherein Mitchell had dragged him from gay club to gay club and eventually took his lack of enthusiasm as permission to sneak off in a loo with a Spaniard named Renaldo. Harry had spent the rest of the weekend touring the Gothic Quarter with an elderly Canadian couple.
“I don’t do well on holiday,” Harry says, and Draco groans and leans back, face tipped up to the sun.
“Wonderful, just wonderful.”