This story includes explicit depictions of sex between two male characters. It is intended for adult audiences only.
Penniless after leaving his family, Draco turns to smuggling to make ends meet. Harry buys weed from him, but can’t get high. That’s how it starts, anyway.
For Poppy, as part of an effort by the DRARRY PIT community to support trans advocacy. You can find more information about the event here.
Continue reading Ground ControlIt’s not the first time some enterprising teenage vigilante planted a cursed object in Draco’s path, but none of the attempts so far have been quite so bizarre.
Written For Jungatheart as part of the winter holiday gift exchange over at the Drarry Creative Collective discord.
“To the left,” Draco instructs, climbing the narrow wooden stairs behind Potter. “It’s unlocked.”
“You don’t lock your room?”
Draco shrugs. Old habits die hard, even after a gap year, and locking a dorm shared with four other people was about as practical as drinking from a sieve.
Late afternoon sunlight spills gently through the door. Potter steps inside, then stands blocking the way while he gapes around as if his own tiny bedroom further down the corridor doesn’t look exactly the same. The creaky hardwood floor, the slanted ceiling with the squat, west-facing window, the ponderous wardrobe fit to house a family of boggarts. Draco’s trunk is open, revealing an untidy assortment of unmentionables. A standing mirror squints back at them from the corner. The desk’s covered with books. Nothing at all out of the ordinary, except—
“Oooh, what’s that?” Potter says, finally moving out of the way.
Continue reading Purple Plush“Malfoy,” Harry said, squinting with a new suspicion. “Are you… drunk?”
“Not yet.” Malfoy shook the flask. “How about it, Potter?”
The third entry in my Harry Potter series, Spring Forward, Fall Back, this Hogwarts era story takes place a month after the The Bubo.
OR, read on for some excerpts and a making-of story. Tl;dr: it took me 6 fucking months to make that illustration.
Continue reading The Yule BallHarry hated it. Every torturous minute of it. He hated parading in front of the wide-eyed crowd like a prize horse, his fellow students turned to strangers by colorful dresses and frilly cravats. And the dancing! He hated Parvati’s fingers clasped around his clammy hand, her disapproving stare on his overheated face, her long dress getting under his feet as if it had a mind of its own. He hated being in the midst of the other Champions, the true Champions, all so much taller and more dignified and mature than him, the impostor. He hated how Cho blushed and simpered on Cedric’s arm. He hated the stilted classical music that started the evening, and he hated the stupid wizarding band even more, because everyone but him knew their songs. He hated being left alone with Ron when the Patil twins finally abandoned them, and hated Ron for trailing out after Hermione without bothering to drag Harry along.
But above all, he hated the sight of Draco Malfoy having the time of his life.
Continue reading The Yule Ball
