unknown_niche
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Draco stared at him, stormy grey meeting emerald green. He squeezed Harry’s hand, dropping his head with a sigh. He was exhausted. He didn’t want to fight the Dark Magic, or the feelings he had for the man in front of him, anymore. Draco was tired, he just wanted to sleep and let the wretched Mark take him.
But he couldn’t do that, not when Harry was looking at him like he was the most perfect thing in the world.
OR
Draco Malfoy is struggling with scars, nightmares and Dark Magic after the War, and Pansy goes to the only person that will help a former Death Eater: Harry Potter. And, to her surprise, he accepts to help Draco, even though they haven't seen each other since they broke up.
Bookmarked by unknown_niche
17 Oct 2025
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Draco needs to learn how to cook, and luckily, Harry knows his way around a kitchen.
The fact that Draco is using his newfound cooking skills to impress another man... Well, Harry just tries not to think about that too much.
But somewhere, among all of the spicing and savoring, Harry realizes that Draco is coming by for more than just a good meal.
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Bookmarked by unknown_niche
15 Oct 2025
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He thinks about knocking on Harry’s door—about doing it four months ago, when Harry would press him into the wall and kiss him slowly enough that his legs turned to jelly and his mind went blank.
But Harry doesn’t miss him, because they don’t do kisses by the door anymore. After all, they were just fucking.
Bookmarked by unknown_niche
14 Oct 2025
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Working title was "Three times drarry acted like a couple, and one time they actually were one". So that's the fic, really.
Day 23: Idiots to lovers
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Bookmarked by unknown_niche
12 Oct 2025
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Draco froze in the doorway, his breath catching as his gaze fell on the figure in the kitchen. Harry Potter stood by a steaming pot, a brass ladle in hand, stirring with a rhythmic motion that suggested he’d been at it for some time. His messy black hair was a riot of curls, more disheveled than usual, and he wore an apron of all things, a rosy pink one dotted with tiny blue teacups and shiny silver spoons. The bow at his back was perfectly tied, as if mocking Draco with its domestic charm. Beneath the apron, Potter’s attire was almost laughable: worn-out shorts that left his knees bare and a faded t-shirt that clung to him.
Draco’s stomach growled again, louder this time, but he hardly noticed. Instead, he took a step back, slipping into the shadows just outside the door. Gone was the bumbling, untidy boy he had known, replaced by someone entirely different. Potter wasn’t simply cooking; he was weaving some quiet, hypnotic magic, as if the kitchen itself bent to his will.
And so, he watched.
Like he always did.
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Bookmarked by unknown_niche
09 Oct 2025