harry is the flirt


Roxy groans when he walks into the meeting room and gives him the stink eye, which he totally doesn’t deserve. Sure his ‘good morning’ was somewhat on the chipper side, but it’s not so early in the morning that she would take it as personal affront as an usually late riser.

“I hate you so much Unwin. You shouldn’t even be up right now, much less happy to be alive.” She glares even harder at him and he rolls his eyes, sticking his tongue out as he takes place at the opposite side of the table.

“Come on now. I wasn’t that drunk last night.” Sure, he doesn’t remember much of said night besides laughing a lot and a pretty intense snogging session with Harry, but surely Harry would have told him if he had gone over the limit.

“You were flirting with Harry.”

“So what? He’s my husband.” Even two years later, he still gets a thrill everytime he says it.

Merlin snorts from the desk he’s sitting at arranging paperwork before their briefing, finally aknowledging their presence. “Lad, you asked him if he was single.”

That makes him lose his smile pretty quickly, even before Roxy continues. “And then you cried when he said he wasn’t.”

“Shut up!” It’s out before he can stop it, but it’s not like he has any doubts they are both telling the truth. That’s totally the kind of dumb thing he would do. “Fuck me.”

He’s the one groaning now and he hides his head in his hands, hoping the ground will swallow him whole. He jumps when he feels a hand press on his shoulder, but calms down as soon as he recognizes Harry. His hopes that he missed the whole conversation are crushed pretty quickly when he sees the little smile he’s sporting.

“Come now darling. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. I found the whole affair rather… Flattering if I’m being honest.”

And indeed, Harry seems rather smug, but for some reason, it breaks Eggsy’s heart. Or no, he knows the exact reason and he feels worst because that means he’s being a terrible husband.

“Alright, that’s it. I’m taking you on a date tonight babe. And every night I’m not away on a mission.”

Harry seems shocked, but before he can step away Eggsy grabs the hand that is still resting on his shoulder, rubbing at the band adorning his ring finger. “Dear boy, I assure you it’s not necessary. I wasn’t embarassed or-”

“No, but you should have been! Damn, Harry, I’m so gone on you, that of course I would hit on you when I’m blackout drunk. I couldn’t hit on anyone else. And as my husband you should know it and be exasperated because I am a dumbass who somehow forgot that he’s done one good thing in his life and that’s putting a ring on it.” Technically, Harry is the one who put a ring on it, but just because he beat Eggsy to proposing. “And if you don’t know it then it means I have failed you and I have to make it up to you.”

Harry seems torned between protesting some more and fucking him right there in front of their friends. He settles for an option somewhere in the middle, nodding slightly before bringing Eggsy’s hand to his mouth to kiss his knuckles, his eyes intense and his cheeks flushed red.

“Oh for fuck sake. Merlin, sorry for your meeting, but I’ll be barfing in the loo.” Eggsy thinks Merlin answers something, but quite frankly he doesn’t care. All that’s important right now is that suddenly they are alone and Harry seems rather two seconds away from ravishing him.

And Eggsy is never one to pass on a good ravishing.

  • Hufflepuff: I bet I could fit the whole world in my hands!
  • Slytherin: Hufflepuff, that's physically impossible.
  • Hufflepuff: *cups Slytherin's face* Are you sure?
  • Slytherin: *blushing* Stop it, I have a reputation.
How the Hogwarts houses flirt
  • Gryffindor: But is it morally okay for me to secretly wish your relationship doesn't work out?
  • Ravenclaw: Let's be work out buddies. Marathons count even if they're for movies, right?
  • Slytherin: I don't like your clothes. Take them off.
Rejected Badge Ideas

By Draco Malfoy, 4th year

I LOVE POTTER Too revealing

FUTURE MR. HARRY POTTER I said too revealing. Pull yourself together, Malfoy. Anyway, Potter will be taking my name.

POTTER IS THE CHAMPION OF MY HEART Clever, but also disgusting

I SUPPORT POTTER Wow, this is boring as fuck

POTTER IS FUCKING HOT True, but I don’t want him to think I only want him for his looks, you know?


SUCK MY COCK POTTER Better, but a touch demanding.

FUCK ME POTTER Also should consider that I will not be the only one wearing these buttons

FUCK YOU POTTER Funny! But actually, let’s leave fucking out of it. Wouldn’t want to deprive the first years of supporting Potter via button due to inappropriate language. Hmm, what else do I like about him…?

POTTER SMELLS LIKE EVERYTHING GOOD A bit of an exaggeration. I don’t want to seem too smitten. 

POTTER SMELLS GOOD True, but does a bland statement like this really deserve to grace a badge?

POTTER SMELLS LIKE QUIDDITCH Okay, now it’s too specific

POTTER SMELLS LIKE SWEAT I might be the only one who likes this smell? Does this make me weird?

(Pansy is looking. GO AWAY, BITCH!)

POTTER STINKS LIKE SWEAT Haha, right, Pansy??? He’s so gross, I hate him. This isn’t very catchy though. What about…

POTTER STINKS Short and sweet (just like Potter!!) (NOT!! lol jk Pansy! Obviously that was a joke. Potter is not sweet). Anywaaaaaay, let’s just go with this, shall we?

(from the universe created in this post)

The Unusual Usual

“Draco, quit drooling, it’s beneath you.”

Draco huffed but said nothing to Greg as he continued to stare at a trio of strangers that were laughing animatedly.

“Honestly, just go over there and ask him out.”

A scoff left his mouth as he begrudgingly took his eyes away from a stunning man with black hair tied in a bun, green glasses that framed his face nicely, and a joyous smile that did things to Draco’s stomach—things that shouldn’t happen.

“Right, because hitting on straight people is exactly what I should do.”

Greg grunted, and the tone let Draco know that he was annoyed. “You don’t know that he’s straight.”

Draco supposed he had to give that one to Greg, but the odds were never in his favour. Straight men, unfortunately, were everywhere, and Draco had lost count long ago the number of times hitting on them got him nowhere.

“He’s gorgeous,” Draco whispered as he looked once more. His eyes widened when the man stared back, head titled and a small curious smile on a handsome face.

Draco looked down and shifted till he could half-way block the stranger out of his vision.

“He’s staring at you,” Greg pointed out, tone tinged in amusement.

“I know that, idiot,” Draco snapped without heat as his cheeks began to feel hot. “He better stare, I’m stunning.”

Greg laughed in surprise before he started eating his scone, the whole reason they came in the first place.

“I don’t think he’s straight, not with the way he’s looking at you.”

Draco had to fight the urge to look.

“I don’t get you sometimes,” Greg continued with a grunt for emphasis. “You always take charge in everything, but the second a pretty boy comes along, you choke up.”

He glared at Greg and lifted his nose in the air.

“You just wouldn’t understand.”

“What are you on about? I’m gay too, in case you have forgotten.”

“Oh, believe me, I haven’t forgotten,” Draco began with an eye roll. “Not with being your third wheel all the bloody time with Neville. I’ve seen more action with you two than I’ll ever get in a year. Bloody unfair is what that is.”

When Greg smirked, Draco wondered if it would be best to leave, gorgeous boy be damned.

Keep reading

you i’ve been thinking lately about how ginny’s the only one out her friends and family to not keep her maiden name– which seemed weird at first, since ginny’s plenty independent, has family pride, and isn’t the type to do something just because it’s traditional. not to mention she’s rather famous in her own right due to her sports career, and seeing as how she continues writing on the subject, she probably could cash in on maintaining her name.

but then i thought of how for almost his whole life harry has been the odd one out as a ‘potter’. he grew up in a family with a different last name than him, who went out of their way to single him out as an 'other’. harry never had any relatives with his name or any sort of substantial connection to family member, which only exacerbated his feelings of being an outsider. i think he would have been proud of his name on some level– it honored his parents who gave their lives for him, and certainly his name became a big part of his identity as he grappled with his fame. but still. harry was the only potter. he had no family, no one else with his name.

i think ginny would have picked up on this, though i doubt harry would have articulated it (or even consciously recognized it). she took his name as a sign, an obvious indicator to all who met them, that harry was no longer alone. she was his family now.

Two Gay Weddings

on the second day of Christmas my true love gave to me…

“Nice decorations.”


“I like the, um- what’s that thing you call hanging from the walls again?”

Draco laughed. “Garland, Potter. I must have told you that a million times.”

“Sorry.” Harry chuckled uncomfortably and adjusted his tie. “I guess I’m just nervous. I’ve never been in a wedding party before.”

“You don’t say. I never would have guessed.” Draco glanced at Harry out of the corner of his eye and smirked when he saw Harry’s stricken expression. “You’ll be fine, Potter.”

“No I won’t be. Ginny should’ve never picked me to be her best man.”

“And Luna should’ve never picked me to be hers.” Draco sighed. “Lord knows all I’ll do is take the attention away from her with my amazing good looks.”

Harry snorted. “Yeah, right.”

“Well, my turn to walk down the aisle.” Draco left his place beside Harry to take the arm of Luna’s maid of honor, Freya Butler, a magizoologist who Luna worked with.

“Good luck,” Harry said, still looking like a frightened little lamb.

“Thanks. And, Potter, I promise you that you’ll be the best best man Ginny could’ve hoped for,” Draco said before disappearing through the doors leading to the sanctuary.

“Did I walk alright?” Potter asked Draco as soon as the two of them sat down at their table for the reception.

“You glided like an angel, I assure you. It hardly matters anyway since everybody was too busy being awed by my perfectly styled hair to notice the way you walked down the aisle.”

Harry laughed. “Oh, of course. And what about during my speech? Will all eyes be on you during that as well?”
“Obviously not all eyes, Potter. Probably about half.”

Harry quirked a smile and took a sip of champagne. “How come you’re not nervous at all?” he asked Draco.

“Years of practice.” Draco smiled at Harry, but the words came out weary.

“More or less years than it takes to make your hair look like that?” Harry teased, raising his eyes pointedly to Draco’s hair.

Draco laughed. “Actually about the same number of years.”


“Fuck. I don’t think I can do this,” Harry murmured as Hermione was finishing up her speech.

“What do you mean?” Draco asked.

“My speech is next. It’s not as good as Hermione’s. It’s not really good at all. Fuck, I’m going to ruin this wedding.”

Draco put a hand on Harry’s knee. “Don’t say that. You’re not going to ruin anything. You’re going to be great, just like you always are. And if you don’t like your speech, then screw it. Just speak from your heart. Luna and Ginny will love it, no matter what you say.”

People began clapping around them, but the two men just stared into each other’s eyes.

“Okay,” Harry said at last, and he stood up.

The wedding guests went quiet again and looked expectantly at Harry. He took a deep breath.

“I’m glad that’s over,” Harry said to Draco once all the speeches were over. “Do you think I did okay?”

Draco rolled his eyes and smiled. “Everyone was crying by the end of your speech, Potter. So yes, I think you did okay.”

“Oh. I didn’t know if the crying was good or bad.”

Draco smiled for a second more before his expression turned pensive. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, anything.”

“You’re a Gryffindor. You’re like the most Gryffindor-y Gryffindor I’ve ever met, but you were still scared of messing up today. Why?”

Harry frowned. “I’m not immune to nerves, you know.”

“I know, I know, but it just seemed off.” A beat of silence, then Draco added, “Whatever. I guess it’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing,” Harry said. Draco raised his eyebrows. “I was nervous because I kept thinking that this was going to be my first and only time being in a wedding. And I had to do everything perfectly because I won’t ever do it again.”
“What about your own wedding?”

Harry sighed. “I’m Harry Potter. Everyone I meet is going to have expectations for me. They’ll think I’m a savior or a misunderstood lost soul or some shit like that. I don’t want that.”

“Well aren’t we two peas in a pod? I’m the infamous Draco Malfoy, former Death Eater. Everyone I meet expects me to be a brooding and mysterious Dark Arts master, but all I really am is a-”

“Self-absorbed git. Yeah, I know.”

Draco smiled and finished the last of the champagne. “We should probably just marry each other, eh?”

“Nice decorations.”


“What do you call those things on the wall again?”

“Honestly, Potter, this is the last time I’m reminding you. Garland.”


“What is it?”

“No not you, me. I’m Malfoy now too. You keep forgetting.”
Draco blushed, smiled, and looked down at his and Harry’s wedding bands on their fingers.

“Sorry, Mr. Malfoy. I guess it hasn’t sunk in yet.”

“What do you mean it hasn’t sunk in yet? We’ve been married for at least three hours.”

“Hey, I’m not as bad as you are, Mr. ‘What are those things on the wall?’”

“There it is again, you using the wrong last name. What has gotten into you?”
“Nothing has gotten into me, and if you don’t stop bugging me, you’re not getting into me tonight either.”

“If you can’t remember my last name then I’m not sure I want to.”

“I do know your last name. It’s Malfoy. Malfoy. Malfoy. Malfoy. Malfoy. Malfoy. Malfoy. Malfoy,” Draco went on and on until Harry laughed and eventually had to kiss Draco to shut him up.

#pining #sketches #quidditch

Prompts: @antique-moonglade
Author: @queenofthyme

Draco calmly set about mixing his paints. He’d perfected a particular shade of green only the day prior, and he wanted to get it exact. He had plenty of time to get it right before he needed to begin sketching. Quidditch practice didn’t start for another twenty minutes or so.

He’d set up his canvas quite a distance from the pitch so that the players wouldn’t see him.  Of course, that also meant he couldn’t see them that well either so, as always, he’d brought his binoculars to get the best view of his intended subject - it was a bit of a hassle using them and painting at the same time but it was better than the alternative - being caught.

Not even Pansy knew he was out here. Not for lack of trying of course. She’d even taken to following him in the mornings but Draco was careful. This morning he’d led her on a goose chase around the castle before finally giving her the slip and heading outside.

It was surprisingly warm for so early in the morning, the harsh glares of the sun already in full force. Draco had created a shade for himself - magically stretching out the branches of a nearby tree to shield his pale skin from the sun. But the players wouldn’t be so lucky. He could just imagine the sweat rolling down a particular player’s skin. It would make for a great painting if he could capture it correctly.

The green paint turned out exactly as he wanted it, a perfect replica of its inspiration, Draco thought. He set it aside, eager for the chance to use it later. Since he had time to kill, he figured he may as well get a start on the background, so he began lightly sketching in the lines of the Quidditch pitch and the surrounding stadiums with a thin pencil. He’d just started drawing the hoops at the far side of the pitch when a voice pulled him out of focus.


The second hoop became oblong. He knew that voice.

“Potter,” he greeted automatically, his voice cold - a reflex.  He turned around quickly, his pencil falling into the grass.

Potter was squinting at Draco’s sketch, using his broomstick, firmly planted in the ground, to keep balance as he leaned forward. Despite only heading for a practice he was dressed in his full scarlet Gryffindor Quidditch uniform, complete with a protective chest plate handing loosely from his shoulders, waiting to be strapped on properly. Draco resisted the urge to fix it himself.

“You draw?”

A snarky What’s it you? on Draco’s lips was swallowed when Potter continued without waiting for an answer.

“Just the pitch? Or the players too?”

Panic filled Draco’s body settling itself as a niggling discomfort in his gut. “Just the pitch,” he said quickly, his eagerness to lie making him forget his desire to be contrary. Instead, his voice just came out rushed and squeaky. Lucky there were no witnesses otherwise his tough reputation would have been well and truly demolished, all by a couple of unextraordinary words from Harry Potter.

“Shame,” Potter said, standing up straight and lifting his broom. “Would you consider it? I’ve always wanted to be painted.”

Draco nodded against his will - what? Potter’s confidence was rather disconcerting. It clearly had the power to turn him into a squirming mess as well as a pathetic follower eager to please all at once.

Potter’s face lit up with a surprised smile - he obviously hadn’t expected Draco to be so agreeable - neither had Draco. “In that case, make sure you capture me from the left. It’s my good side.”

“Every side is your bloody good side,” Draco muttered to himself without thinking. Crap. There’s no way Potter hadn’t heard THAT embarrassing revelation. 

But Potter didn’t say anything further. He simply winked at Draco with those devilishly charming eyes (that made Draco’s knees go weak) before mounting his broom and flying off towards the pitch, his shape growing smaller and smaller until he was just a speck in the distance.

As soon as he could wrench his eyes away from Potter, Draco turned his focus to the shade of green paint he had created. He’d have to start again from scratch. It was nowhere close to the real thing.

Now that he had Potter’s blessing, more or less, he had to make everything perfect. After all, Potter would want to see the finished product. And Draco already knew that once he did, Potter would know exactly how Draco felt about him. How could he not when Draco channelled all of his emotions into his paintings? When every stroke of his brush that coloured Potter’s face was a gentle caress? It would be obvious to anyone.

Draco resigned himself to that fact and focused all his energy into the painting. If Potter liked it, Draco might just show him all the other finished canvases locked away in his dormitory too. It was about time someone else saw Draco’s work. And who better than Draco Malfoy’s muse, Harry Potter?

Draco was right of course. Potter returned immediately after practice, flushed and sweaty, expecting results. Draco didn’t have much to show yet - he’d spent most of his time working on mixing the right shades of green. But at the same time, he was almost certainly showing too much. Potter stared at the canvas for far too long.

Draco had started with Potter’s eyes and hadn’t got much further. Sketching over them again and again to get the precise shape, the precise look of concentration as Potter scanned the pitch for the snitch. And then came the colouring. What he had gotten wrong originally was trying to find the one right shade of green for Potter’s eyes, because there wasn’t one. There were a number of shades all swimming amongst each other. Vibrant. Ever changing. Alive. 

Draco thought he’d captured those eyes rather well in the end, but when Potter turned and his real eyes fixed themselves on Draco, all liveliness and wonder, Draco realised he’d never be able to do them justice. Potter’s eyes didn’t belong on paper. But Draco was starting to think, from the way Potter was blushing as he stared, that maybe, just maybe, Potter’s eyes belonged on Draco.

more like this l @queenofthyme