Latest Posts by chocolando - Page 3

[day 13 of Microfic May: beware]

Harry doesn't mind keeping their relationship a thing only known to them and their friends.

It's not really a secret, but both of them have lost enough patience trying to dodge unwanted attention since the war has ended that it's only reasonable then that they keep their dates firmly in the muggle territory of the British Isles. Going anywhere else means planning and strategy and way too much effort to successfully avoid every vague acquaintance wishing to once again disparage the name of Malfoy—as if that's not old news—or advise Harry that he should beware of harmful influences in his midst.

He looks now to the other end of the couch: to Draco's nose buried in a book, his in-need-of-a-trim hair falling into his eyes, his body contorted into a shape that looks uncomfortable, but considering he hasn't moved in more than half an hour, it must not be.

Every couple of minutes, his hand darts upwards to push up his hair and every single time, his tome tilts, nearly falling out of his lap. Draco scowls every time, but does nothing to readjust his circumstances. Harry almost wants to shoot a bunch of sticking charms at him—one at his hair and forehead, the other at his book and knees—but this routine is too charming to fix.

He taps his thumb against Draco's ankle, where his feet are buried under Harry's thigh. Draco hums questioningly.

"Love you," Harry says, casually, as if the first time he'd said it had not almost broken them up. Now, though, they feel more solid. Draco doesn't even look up from his reading.

"Thanks," he responds instead, absentmindedly, and pokes Harry's knee with his toe.

other days: tumblr / ao3

I couldn’t not draw him as every one I thought of ok?

XIV. Burning

<- previous

The firewhisky swished in the crystal tumblers yet again.

They must’ve been his family’s old relics since they didn’t seem to be Potter’s style. The blow of glass was too intricate; details Potter wouldn’t bother to take note of, the weight of it on their hand.

Potter’s attention likely laid on the liquid inside, hot and ready, burning from inside out.

Much like Draco’s attention laid on Potter as he raised the tumbler to his lips, soft and red, gulping down fire. Like the fire licking Draco’s insides, burning him inside and out.

Much like Potter’s hands by Draco’s side, golden and steady, fumbling from his thighs to his hip. Everywhere Harry touched, through the fabric and his skin, down to the marrow of his bones and his soul, was burning.

Potter’s lips on Draco’s, red and ready, engulfing them in fire. Harry was swallowing every tangled detail of Draco’s, imprinting them on his tongue. The taste of him was all consuming like Fiendfyre in secret rooms. Like firewhisky in living rooms. Like the heat burning inside Draco.

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DRARRY JAYVIK !!!!

🌦️ Prompting is Open! 🌦️

🌈 Submit your prompts HERE

🌈 View the submitted prompts HERE

Check out our rules and guidelines here for more information about prompting, and if you have questions don’t hesitate to ask! 

Prompting will be open until 16 May! We can’t wait to see all of your wonderful, weatherful ideas!

I would really like this trend of donation scammers sending anons to stop. I block them yet they still send anons. It's very annoying.

emptying and reloading a gun with practiced efficiency so you think i'm an expert marksman but you later find out that's just how i stim

XIII. Beware

<- previous

Draco missed the writing in small script:

Beware to only add .05mml of bauldee extract at a time.

“Fuck,” is barely out of his mouth before the cauldron in front of him blew up.

“Draco?” Potter yelped as the crashing sounds of feet on wood descended towards the temporary lab. He stepped through the door, hair a mess, glasses nearly falling off, and chest heaving with each breath. “Are you okay?”

“I almost died again but it should be fine,” he replied nonchalantly.

“Draco!” Potter yelled once again and started moving forward.

“Stop!” Draco immediately shouted and Potter at once obeyed. “Vanish the potion vestiges, they’re lethal.”

“What the fuck,” he whispered but still complied all the same. “Everything’s good now?”

“It should be.” Draco brought a hand to his forehead—he hadn’t even noticed how sweaty he’d gotten—and continued moving it toward his hair, brushing it softly. When he pulled his hand back, locks of hair came with it.

“Shit.”

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"heaven resides in the arms of my noble and gracious special someone"

- said no-one! jesus(dianxia) I need a sprite anyway here's hualian <3

Yaoi is in my blood atp

This one scene was so iconic to me and i couldnt get it out of my head so i drew it quick in a feral state.

(Rookie moves by peu a peu)

Actually that no punctuation plot hole ooc wattpad fanfic written by that 12 year old will ALWAYS be better than character ai. And I love that 12 year old btw

“I feel like I’ve forgotten something,” Ron says, patting his waistcoat down distractedly.

“It better not be the bloody ring,” Harry grits out, teeth clenched with anxiety, nerves coursing through him like electric currents as he bounces on the balls of his feet.

“Nah, mate,” Ron grins. “Don’t you fret.”

Harry gives a choked laugh. “Me? Never been calmer.”

“Picture of serenity,” Ron agrees.

“Exactly.” Harry takes some deep breaths, shaking out his hands. “Oh god. Why isn’t he here yet? I just want this to be done.”

“Wow. Romantic.”

“It is romantic,” Harry insists. “I want us to be married now. Or fucking yesterday.”

“Language!” Hermione whispers from the front row behind them, but she’s beaming and already crying a little, hands over Hugo’s little ears. Harry grins back, feeling so painfully excited. He’s a little worried he’s going to throw up from it. The thought of it makes him laugh, imagining Draco’s face if Harry was sick all over his custom-made white robes, spun from fucking unicorn hair or mermaid silk or whatever. God.

And then a hush falls over the crowd, and there he is, looking so fucking beautiful as he strides down the aisle, robes billowing behind him, sun gleaming in his hair, eyes fixed firmly on Harry. Jesus fuck. Harry's crying now too. He can't look away. Draco is a vision, glowing, his haughty, pointy, beloved face softened with something that looks like awe, disbelief. Harry can relate.

"Hey," he chokes out, when Draco reaches him.

"Hello," Draco murmurs, his mouth pulling into a grin. "My god, Harry, control yourself."

"I can't," Harry sobs. "Ugh. Fuck. I love you."

"We're not at that part yet," Draco reminds him, gripping his hands tight, radiant.

Ron puts a hand on Harry's shoulder, passing him a handkerchief. "Ready?"

"Yeah," Harry beams, wiping his eyes and looking back to Draco. "Are you?"

And Draco, grey eyes bright, nods.

Forgotten 💍 Day 11 of @peachydreamxx and @uncannycerulean’s prompts. Full collection on ao3.

Harry and Draco's reactions in the aftermath of the Sectumsempra incident are both so wild.

Like, Harry witnesses Draco 1) basically straight up admit to being a Death Eater on a mission and then 2) attack him and attempt to use an Unforgivable Curse

and his reaction is to be like 'wow. draco was really upset and i almost hurt him in self defense after he attacked me. this is the worst thing i have ever done in my life and i should back off.' and THEN even after he is proven right and Draco's actions result in Bill's maiming and seemingly also are the reason that Snape is able to kill Dumbledore Harry never regrets his actions. He never feels guilty that he didn't do more to stop Draco or wishes Draco had died in the bathroom or wishes any type of ill on him. No. He just WORRIES about Draco.

Meanwhile, from Draco's POV Harry 1) hunts him down in a vulnerable moment and then 2) once they get into a fight attempts to brutally murder him with a cruel and deadly spell.

and his reaction is to be like 'eh it's fine. he probably didn't mean it. and i deserved it.' Like PANSY vilifies Harry to the school. But Draco never does. Nor does he try to get revenge on Harry. And their next interaction is at the Manor where Draco immediately risks everything by lying to protect him.

May Daily micros. Prompt 12: bear

Ongoing story. Prev parts: 1. key 2.black 3. coffee 4. pathetic 5.hang 6.floral 7. swell 8.crystal 9. puzzled 10. scene 11. forgotten

It was the very first thing that struck Harry about Malfoy—the snowy white of his hair, the sickly pallor of his skin, the colourless gleam of his eyes. It would have been obvious to anyone.

But Harry was eleven. He didn’t have words for these things. He wasn’t worldly. Far from it.

All he knew was that he couldn’t look away.

And then the boy opened his pale, thin mouth—and ruined it.

After that he couldn’t bear him. His pureblood sneering and his bloodless, icy appearance. 

Couldn’t bear any of it. And yet... he kept on looking.

Raven getting wrapped up

(via)

XII. Bear

<- previous

Potter stood in the living room, keenly staring at their first jigsaw hung on the wall.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news but that puzzle piece is never going to be found,” Draco said from the couch.

“Why are you so sure?” He asked turning around to face him.

“It’s a tiny piece lost in a big world,” Draco replied without looking away from his book.

There was a pregnant pause before Potter declared, “I’m going to find it.” Draco scoffed but looked up at Potter; who had been staring at him intently. “You’ll see.”

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May Prompt Thingy!

Part 11 - Forgotten

Malfoy’s shouting at an aide again.

“-Potter’s forgotten more magical theory since we arrived five minutes ago than you’ve ever learned in your entire sorry life-”

“Not going to ask for help again this time?”

“Mm?” Harry’s not paying much attention to Ron. Hard to, with Malfoy really in his element like this.

Ron sounds amused. “Never mind. You’d think this lot would want to cooperate considering they’re the ones getting cursed on the reg.”

Harry grunts. “These are the same idiots who thought it was both sensible and necessary to create a Pureblood Cultural Preservation Society and then used it to lobby for some of Grindelwald’s greatest blood supremacy hits.”

“-certainly hope you’re not suggesting that there may be an issue due to his Muggle lineage? Because that would be a breach of the Equality Act 2004, Section 5, Subclause 32A-”

“Oh my God, he just got spit right on that guy's face.” Harry was a bit breathless.

Ron laughs. “You’re absolutely fucked, mate.”

AO3

Prompt List

Part 1 - Key | Part 2 - Black | Part 3 - Coffee

Part 4 - Pathetic | Part 5 - Hang | Part 6 - Floral

Part 7 - Yawn | Part 8 - Crystal | Part 9 - Puzzle(d)

Part 10 - Scene

knives out 4 should be set in a papal conclave and every time they elect a new pope he keeps getting murdered. black smoke white smoke black smoke white smoke the crowd goes huh?? they have to make benoit blanc a cardinal to get him inside the room and he insists on bringing his husband, because they were on vacation in rome when this all started and phillip wanted to see the sistine chapel but it got closed for conclave. to use himself as bait benoit has to get elected pope. except then he catches the murderer before he can get murdered and now he's stuck as pope. gay married pope, oops! is this anything

XI. Forgotten

<- previous

The end of the war wasn’t long ago yet it still felt like decades had gone by. Even further in the past were his early years at Hogwarts. Every once in a while, Draco would think back to the boy he used to be. There’s lots he felt regret for. 

But deep inside, he still sometimes missed him. The way he used to not have to worry. The future, something in the distance he needn’t bother with. Back then he felt on top of the world, untouchable.

Above all he felt jealous. The way his younger self could so easily feel joy in a way he would stop being able to. Angered at how it became like letting himself stop to bask in glee would sever his presence in the present. So those jubilant moments had to be hidden away.

Later to be forgotten. 

Or were they stolen from him?

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before you stab someone: THINK!

how can you make it Tender?

how can you make it Homoerotic?

how can you make it Implicitly intimate?

how can you make it Noticeably a metaphor for sex?

how can you make it Kind of gay?

X. Scene

<- previous

The living room walls began to form a mosaic of jigsaws. Each of them depicted different scenes: landscapes, more gardens, some of architecture, and a memorable one of a kneazle. Yet with all these idyllic images on the wall Draco’s eyes were always drawn to the picture in front of him: Potter on his knees as his eyes rapidly searched the table for the right pieces. 

Through all their differences they somehow managed to work together. The images started appearing faster, the piece count started to go up, and they continued to build in harmony. Draco’s attention went back to the puzzle as Potter placed the last piece.He added it to their museum as Draco thought, What an odd scenery we must make.

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[day 10 of Microfic May: scene]

Inevitably, they return to the scene of the crime. It's their fucking locker room adjacent to their home pitch exclusive to their Quidditch team.

And now, every single morning, as Morrison drones on about warm-ups and tactics and offensive manoeuvres, Harry's traitorous mind wanders: to the showers (echoing with Draco's choked moans), to the David's locker (its coldness the only thing keeping him cognisant as Draco licks him open), to the bench Draco is sitting on (and the scuff marks it left on the floor from being… pushed).

Catching Draco's eyes is an accident, but it seals Harry's fate either way.

He's doomed: a future repeat offender.

other days: tumblr / ao3

not to sound like a christian facebook mom but some of yall need to have grace in your hearts for the people in your lives or the people you pass once on the road and never see again like you literally need to stop assuming the worst of everyone and their intentions it is poisoning your brain. you can be careful and responsible without being a miserable person. it is possible i promise

On a fateful day in sixth year, Harry follows Ron and Hermione into the hazy, vapour-filled dungeons for their class with Slughorn. Breathing in woody, floral fumes, he opens up an old annotated copy of Advanced Potion-Making for the first time.

That year, he kisses Ginny Weasley for the first time, too.

He also slices Draco Malfoy open in a bathroom.

Ten years later, he finishes up at his desk on a Friday evening, chucks the latest case notes into his bag, and wanders down to the D.M.L.E. potion lab. Technically, at this hour, there should be no-one here, but he's not surprised to find a pale blonde head bent over a row of steaming cauldrons.

"Shouldn't you be home by now?" He drops his bag on the floor, hoisting himself up onto the benchtop.

"Funny." Malfoy doesn't take his eyes off his task, peering at the dark, pearly liquid. It looks vaguely familiar. “Shouldn’t you?”

"Not like it matters," Harry says, gaze catching on the damp curls at Malfoy's nape. "Nothing to go home to except more case notes."

"Oh, the life of the Chosen One. Scintillating as ever." Malfoy stirs the middle potion clockwise, then counter-clockwise. "I'll be sure to write to the Prophet tomorrow, first thing."

Harry snorts, and Malfoy grins, wiping his brow with his sleeve. He begins stirring the potion closest to Harry, counting under his breath. Spirals of steam twist languidly in the air as a comfortable silence settles in. Harry breathes in deep, slow, recognising the warm, clean scent of Malfoy’s cologne. He’s sure he could pick out Malfoy blindfolded now, after five years of working together in close quarters.

"I should go home and use my own lab," Malfoy murmurs, brushing his hair out of his face again. "The temperature control charms here are shit. I'm sweating my fucking balls off right now."

Harry can't be blamed for what he says next; he's trying very hard not to think about Malfoy's balls.

"Well, you smell nice, at least."

Malfoy looks at him sharply, a strange look on his face. "What?"

Harry feels a heat creep up his neck that has nothing to do with humidity. "Er, your cologne. It's nice."

Malfoy carefully places the ladle down on the benchtop. "I'm not wearing cologne today."

"Oh." Harry breathes in, helplessly, wishing he would shut up even as he keeps talking. "It smells like your cologne in here." Too late, he remembers where he recognises the pearly sheen of the potion from. Sixth year. Slughorn. "Ohhhh, shit. Is that—"

"Amortentia," Malfoy breathes, crowding in between Harry's knees, and then—he's kissing Harry, kissing him hard, tugging at his hair, shoving a hand up his t-shirt. Shock, hunger, hot and electric, shoot up Harry's entire body and he pulls Malfoy hard against him, desperate. Malfoy's tongue is in his mouth. Harry wants to climb inside him.

Finally Malfoy pulls back, breathing hard. "It smells like me? Really?"

"Yes," Harry groans, chasing after him. "Yeah, this whole fucking—" Harry gasps, clutching Malfoy closer as he sucks at the skin below Harry's ear, "—room smells like you. Oh God. Fuck, fuck, don't stop—"

Draco doesn't.

Floral 🌸 Day 6 of @peachydreamxx and @uncannycerulean’s unofficial microfic may challenge

I only hate certain types of fic the same way I hate mosquitos and ticks. Like get these nasty little buggers away from me but also I respect their place in the ecosystem.

IX. Puzzle

<- previous

“I found this today,” Potter said over dinner.

From the other end of the table he grabbed a box and shook it. The rattling noise caught Draco’s attention and he raised an eyebrow at Potter. 

They ended up sitting on the floor of the living room, about a thousand jigsaw pieces scattered across the coffee table. Draco began by sorting each different piece and Potter began by building the border. There was no picture on the box, there wasn’t anything on the box. It was a regular wooden box, who knew where Potter had even found it.

Each week, every Friday after dinner, they rendezvous by the coffee table and had a go at the puzzle. Little by little, an unfamiliar picture began to form. At first there were only bursts of color on a dark background: a bit of periwinkle on the bottom right, hints of lavender sprouted near the center, and sunflower yellow peeked near the top border. 

As sections came together the picture became obvious: a simple manor garden. 

But there was a hollow spot near the top left. 

“Of course you would find a puzzle box with a missing piece.” 

“This is going to hunt me for the rest of my life,” was all he bothered to say.

Even so, Potter placed a sticking charm on the unfinished puzzle and hung it on the mantle of the fireplace. 

The next day he brought a new puzzle.

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unmatched ship dynamic: "i've done terrible things in the past" x "all i care about is who you are in the present"