Hey, if you're still taking prompts can I has a fluffy drarry fic where they're in class or helping each other with homework
I don’t know if this is quite what you wanted, but it’s relatively fluffy, with a very much in love Draco and an amusing Harry.
around 800[ish] words.
Draco Malfoy liked to pride himself on being smart. After the war, however, and during it, he decided that this intelligence didn’t reach outside of class. He had made so many ridiculous decisions in his past years at Hogwarts, so now it was time for him to make it right. His mother had insisted he did, anyway, and, thus, he found himself enrolled in a special ‘eighth year’ course at the school he’d abandoned the year before.
As the blonde strolled through the echoing halls with his hands in his pockets, he thought about what he could do. The charming yet motherly Narcissa had been sending him frequent letters, demanding to know about new friends in different houses and good deeds he’d done.
And, knowing our dearest Draco, he hadn’t done any at all.
This brings us round to his leather shoes tap-tapping across the stone floor, heading towards the Hogwarts library. I suppose I could help a first year Hufflepuff with their homework or something, he thought glumly. So he continued on his way, trying ever so hard not to scowl in doing so.
The library was considerably busy and he wouldn’t get a table to himself, so he did what he’d planned and sat next to a lonely looking first year who seemed to be wanting to pull her hair out over an essay. She stiffened when she saw him sit down, but he smiled lightly and she calmed a little. It was only elementary that she was from magical descent – how else would she have probably known about Draco and his family. He didn’t look that intimidating, did he?
“Hello,” he whispered. “What’s your name?”
Looking up again from her work with wide eyes, she mumbled, “Aries.”
“Where are all your friends?”
“On the table over there,” she replied, just as mouse-like, gesturing to a table behind Draco. “I couldn’t concentrate on my work so I sat on my own.”
“What is it?”
“Laughing Potion essay.”
Remembering doing it in first year, Draco sat with the girl for a number of minutes, writing down and telling her all the different facts she’d need to know. Knowing she wouldn’t have to think much now, she thanked the Slytherin and headed back to her friends, whispering to them. Next thing Draco knew, there were another three first year girls with similar essays to write, all wanting Draco’s help.
By the time it was nearing to lunch, he had helped countless amounts of students below eighth year with their essays and assignments. His brain hurt almost like his arm did in third year (although part of that was, unfortunately, put on). Glancing upwards to see who the next hopeless case was, he was shocked, eyes mirroring a scared deer’s.
Obviously, this was the biggest hopeless case of all.
This wasn’t just because Potter was Potter and was helpless and hopeless in most things, including staying alive. The main prospect that made this hopeless was because of that day, in the war… He was saved, by Harry bloody Potter. He’d held on to Harry’s waist for dear life on that broomstick, feeling the heat from the flames and heat from his blushing cheeks. He hadn’t been that close to anyone before. He hadn’t felt the shallow and panicked breaths of somebody else before, never been pressed against someone that completely that he relied on them to make it out. For some reason, after the war had ended, Potter couldn’t get out of his head. He ruined normality for what should have been a normal year. The only one he’d ever get a chance to have.
Suck it up, Draco, he told himself. Help him and then you can leave for lunch.
“Hello, Potter,” he drawled. Keep it in, don’t blush.
“Malfoy,” Harry nodded in acknowledgement. “I need a bit of help with my Transfiguration assignment. I can’t figure out how on Earth I’m supposed to turn myself into an animal for 60 seconds, and turn myself back… when I’m an animal?!”
“First of all, Potter, it might be an idea to know the spell,” chuckled Draco. “So picture this animal, this singular animal, close your eyes, and say the incantation.”
Harry muttered the incantation under his breath and Draco felt himself tingle a little. It seemed like déjà vu, but he couldn’t be sure. Until he heard Potter laughing his spectacled face off opposite him. Why was he bigger?
He tried to tell Harry to turn him back but all that came out was irritating squeaky little ferret noises.
“Fine, fine, I’ll turn you back.”
“So you can do it on others,” Draco exclaimed, trying to hush his voice, “but not yourself!”
Harry sighed. “Okay, confession. I can do it, all of it. I just wanted to talk to you.”
Draco’s heart was pounding. Was he imagining things?
“R-Room of Requirement,” he managed to stutter. “Ten minutes.”
And he left the library, leaving Harry on his own at the table. Needless to say, neither Draco nor Harry ever turned up to lunch that day, both arriving in their common rooms that Saturday afternoon looking rather heavily snogged.
And, still, Draco couldn’t get the image and the feelings of somebody pressed against him, loving him so unconditionally, out of his head. He was indeed a hopeless case.