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are they even drarry if they don’t beat the shit out of each other early on
art inspired by smol harry and draco after their squabble in When We Were Angels, Chapter 2 by @soliblomst ♥︎
Detention (E, 1k words)
Harry spends his eighth year recontextualising his relationship with Draco Malfoy.
Tags: Only One Broom, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Fluff and Smut, Praise Kink, Top!Harry Potter
Author's note: Drarry one-shot I wrote for @kk1smet's birthday. Thank you for creating such wonderful art for this fandom, and for letting me use it here! K's original art post can be found here, and you can see more of her art at the bottom of this post!
* * *
They’ve been fighting since—well, since forever. But also since noon. The sky is dark now, and Harry has run out of patience. He turns on his heel, leaving Malfoy to scream into the void.
“Just where do you think you’re going?”
“I’m going back to the castle. We’ll come back tomorrow.”
“Out of the question. I’m not spending another day—”
Harry can’t think of many things crueller than the detention McGonagall came up with for them. Another day stuck in the forest with Malfoy and he might just crack. But he’s already cracked, hasn’t he? He’s cracked about a thousand times today.
“Suit yourself. If you can find unicorn hair in the dark, then by all means, go and find it. I’m going back.”
And with that, Harry mounts his broom.
“Don’t you dare leave me here alone.”
“Then hop on.”
There’s a break, a little silence.
“Fine. We’ll go back. But I’m flying.”
“Whatever,” Harry says, too tired for another fight. He dismounts, and offers the broom to Malfoy.
The sound of crushed leaves fills the air as Malfoy comes closer, then grabs the broom in one swift motion.
They get on.
Why did Harry think it was a good idea to only bring one broom? He’s uncomfortable, seated much too low, and has nowhere to put his hands. He hates not being in control of it, too. Malfoy flies with too much grace, a sin he didn’t know existed until that very moment.
Time passes slowly.
Harry’s just got used to the precarious balance when a Thestral whizzes by.
“Ah,” Harry says, against his will, and wraps his hands around Malfoy’s waist. At the same time—or was it earlier?!—Malfoy’s hand lands on Harry’s calf, making Harry swallow the sorry he was about to blurt out.
Surely, Malfoy will say sorry himself. Or remove his hand.
He doesn’t.
So Harry doesn’t remove his hands either.
They land, and Malfoy’s hand lingers for a second too long.
They’re silent on the way to the castle. It’s bizarre, because the two of them are never silent. They bicker in class, when they’re forced to sit together for “the optics.” They bicker in the corridors, when they bump into each other. They bickered all day today. And now they’re silent, too silent, and the ghost of Malfoy’s touch buns a hole through Harry’s jeans.
Their footsteps echo against the stone walls. And then they stop. They’ve reached the staircase where their paths diverge. Harry has to go up the stairs, while Malfoy carries on.
They look at each other, neither of them moving. Then, at the same time, they act. Malfoy clears his throat. Harry walks towards a broom closet.
Malfoy follows him in. It’s dark, much too dark to see, but he hears Malfoy dropping to his knees. He lets out a sound when he feels Malfoy’s hands parting his robes. The sounds intensify when Malfoy takes his cock out, and puts his mouth on it. It’s all so unexpected, so wonderfully wet and generous, Harry feels around until he touches Malfoy’s head. He’s really there.
Fucking Draco Malfoy. Is on his knees. Sucking him off.
Harry finishes in his mouth, and only afterwards realises he’s been panting.
* * *
Harry corners Malfoy after Charms. Since last night, he’s had time to think. Truly, he’s had so much time to consider everything that’s ever happened between them, all the nuances of their relationship, all the ways in which they came together. And with all that knowledge safely stored in his brain, Harry locks the door.
Malfoy sinks to his knees. The light spills through the arched windows, and Harry can look into his eyes as he takes Harry in.
“Jesus Christ,” Harry says, watching Malfoy’s lips strain against his cock. “I want to fuck you.”
Malfoy is a good little boy, because he releases his cock, stands up and bends over Flitwick’s desk. Harry lifts up his robe.
“You’ve finally shut up,” Harry says, inserting one finger into Malfoy’s hole, pulling a moan out of him. “I love that.”
Harry doesn’t really know what he’s doing, but figures out enough. When he’s close, he pushes Malfoy back on his knees and comes all over his face.
Malfoy licks it off his lips. He’s finished in his pants.
* * *
Harry fucks Malfoy everywhere he can. He fucks him in deserted classrooms. In broom closets. The prefects’ bathroom. He fucks him so much and so often, they’ve both fallen behind on schoolwork. When they get detention for it, Harry fucks Malfoy on the forest bed.
* * *
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Harry says, looking down at Malfoy. It’s the Christmas hols, and all of Malfoy’s roommates are away. It’s the first time they fuck in a bed.
“You’re beautiful,” Malfoy says, and drags Harry into a kiss.
* * *
“You’re insatiable,” Draco says when Harry falls into step with him after breakfast. “We have Potions in five minutes.”
“Five minutes is plenty of time.”
Draco rolls his eyes, but lets Harry drag him into a broom closet.
They waste most of the five minutes kissing, and then another five undressing. By the time Harry comes all over Draco’s chest, the bell ringing is a distant memory.
“If we get detention again, I’ll kill you,” Draco says while he picks up his robes from the floor.
“Don’t worry,” Harry says, cleaning them off both. “You go first.”
Harry waits two minutes before going into the classroom.
“Professor, sorry I’m—”
His gaze falls on Draco, sporting a red tie and looking at Harry in horror. Just like everybody else.
Harry looks down at his own green tie.
“—late,” he concludes, amidst rising bouts of laughter.
“Shh,” Slughorn says, trying and failing at suppressing a grin. “Ah, nothing like young love, is there? But also, detention to the two lovebirds.”
Harry shrugs at the Gryffindors’ shocked faces, then sits down next to Draco.
“Sorry,” he whispers, a hand on Draco’s knee under the table.
“I’ll never forgive you,” Draco says solemnly.
That night, they fuck—and sleep—in Harry’s bed.
Super adorable chibi art of them fondling each other on the broom © @kk1smet! 💖