the art of flying and falling; ninety minutes in the air and a lifetime on the ground
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Summary
And it isn’t weird, no matter what Peter says; he’s hardly obsessed. It’s just that Harry Potter is a beast in the air, as beautiful (his flying, that is, not—) as he is brave.
It’s just that Sirius could watch him forever and never get bored.
It’s fine.
He just…doesn’t need to tell James about it, that’s all. Because James doesn’t need to know how much Sirius admires his younger brother—his younger brother’s flying, that is. Because there’s nothing to know.
…Right.
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Summary
Draco doesn't know what's worse—having the fanatical Oliver Wood as his coach for the Quidditch World Cup, or having Potter (gorgeous, fit Potter) as the commentator for said World Cup.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 11,624
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Collections:
- 1
- Comments:
- 76
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- Bookmarks:
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Bookmarked by Examiner_A
31 Jan 2025
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Bookmarker's Notes
“Do it? It being Harry Potter? You’re asking me to do Potter? As if he’s a thing, not a…” Draco squawks, flapping a hand wildly in the air. “Not a person? You know our history, Oliver!”
He imagines simply turning up at Potter’s office and presenting himself to be shagged, this is downright ludicrous-
Well, it’s not as if you’ve never thought about that before.
He looks down, teeth sinking into his bottom lip.
Oliver mutters, “To be honest? I don’t think he’ll say no to that.” Upon glimpsing the astonished expression on Draco’s face, he quickly backtracks. “Nothing! Nothing, just ignore what I said. Ignore everything.” He exhales. “Look, I rang you to remind you not to be distracted. Two weeks. I need you to-“
“Constant concentration. Yes, I know that.”
“Good.” Oliver nods, a tight smile on his lips. “Good. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
They say their goodbyes. Draco plops down on the sofa, rubbing his forehead.
Keep my head in the game.
He presses the heels of his palms on his closed eyes and sighs.
How can I do that, when Potter, fit-as-fuck Potter, is going to be there, looking like a walking wet dream?
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Summary
A same-era AU in which Trelawney still makes a prediction, and (almost) everyone gets along and ships Tomarry.
- Words:
- 75,160
- Works:
- 2
- Bookmarks:
- 539
Bookmarked by Examiner_A
09 Aug 2025
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On his way, he passed by Potter and his loony date. Both were laughing hysterically as Lovegood led them both into a ridiculous dance that completely clashed with the music, barely avoiding the surrounding couples trying to enjoy their romantic waltz. There was absolutely nothing graceful about what they were doing. Lovegood at least had some sense of rhythm; Potter appeared to have two left feet.
Tom wrinkled his nose. Clearly, the power that he knows not wasn’t dancing.
Nevertheless, as he watched the grin on Potter’s face, Tom couldn’t deny the charm of his innocence and nonchalance. Potter was secure enough in himself to be silly in front of strangers.
He turned away.
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Summary
Draco’s a cheerleader, and Harry can’t concentrate
Bookmarked by Examiner_A
16 Jun 2025
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Bookmarker's Notes
“ Thanks” Draco said softly “So…good luck out there” He put his hand on Harry’s shoulder and gave him a small, extremely beautiful smile and sauntered away, leaving Harry there still bewildered and stunned.
“Fuck” Harry cursed quietly and realised he has been staring at Draco’s arse, so he grabbed his broom tightly and stepped out to the field as well, this was gonna be hard