there were so many different harry feels

I just genuinely hope people won’t compare Harry and Niall. They’re so different in literally anything, most importantly the music. Of course we haven’t heard anything from H yet, but he’s not gonna go into that folky style for sure.
So that’s nothing you could/should compare! Especially not sales-wise. I see Harry doing pop, a very modern and new way of pop, which will speak to more people than niall’s more Indy style.
Also Harry’s single will be played on every radio station on repeat because he’s Harry. Nialls start as “solo artist” was definitely harder (he did great though! And he seems to be happy with the way it all worked out) but the pressure the media set on Harry shouldn’t be underestimated too, I guess.

I hope both of them get the love and support they deserve from people who genuinely love their work.
They’re both gonna do great as the individuals as they are.

Yachts and Vacations

Inspired by the Hendall pictures circulating the internet, this is part one of this intense little one-shot. My masterlist is on my profile and my ask is always open for requests! x 

 "I’m done with this,“ You mumbled to yourself as you scanned through yet another picture of Harry on holiday without you. There were so many circulating the internet, of him and Kendall Jenner. Well, she just had to be a model, long legs, pretty face and with all the riches in the world, while you were just a simple girl with no fame to your name. You completely understood that your relationship with Harry was kept behind closed doors for the time being, but you had enough. For the past few months it’d been different models he was seen out with, and every single time he came home, he’d just brush off your questions like it was nothing. He never took your queries and feelings seriously, and maybe it was because he thought you trusted him with your life, but that was gradually fading day by day. This incident just made you hit breaking point. 

They were on a yacht with some other friends that Harry never bothered introducing you to — well, really, the only people around him that you knew were his family and his bandmates. You didn’t mean to be so overprotective of your boyfriend, because the industry he was in was constantly filled with rumours and drama, but you couldn’t help it. You needed him to tell you that it was all going to work out fine, you needed him to tell you that it was nothing but the media’s lies. But when he called you that night, he didn’t bother mentioning the subject. As always. 

 "Hello,” He’d speak casually as he walked across the patio, a glass of champagne in his hands. “Happy New Year, Harry,” You said quietly, looking at the clock. You were at home, not attending any parties. Just you, on your couch, watching re-runs of your favourite show. “We have four more hours to go here, but happy new year, love,” He could have sworn he heard a tinge of sadness and regret in your voice. But he brushed it off, like he did to everything else. “I’m looking forward to the next year with you, just the two of us.” You laughed bitterly. Sure. “Yeah, me too. How’s the vacation going?” You asked, because you knew he wasn’t thinking of you. You knew that if that was the case, he would’ve taken you, and let rumours about the two of you swirl instead. “It’s been great. Really relaxing. It’s nice to get away from the city,” He spoke while one of his friends called for him to join the celebrations. Get away from you, more like, you thought as tears welled in your eyes and your words got stuck in your throat. 

 "Y/N?“ He inquired, walking back to where his friends were standing. You managed a simple hum, the music in the background getting louder. "Listen, I have to—” “I’m done, Harry,” You cried, your free hand rubbing violently at your eyes. It was as if he could see the sorry state you were in. “I’m done with us, okay? I can’t do this anymore. I can’t deal with your stunts, I can’t deal with seeing you like that with other people. I can’t deal with us being in a relationship like that anymore. I’m sorry.”


In case you missed the original post, here’s what’s going on.  

And here are all the other stories so far!

ARRRGGHHH!!!! It’s finished, I did it woohoo!!!

I hope you guys enjoyed it :) Sorry the last few stories were a little later than expected.  I’ve had a wonderful vacation writing for so many different ships, most of which I’ve never done before, but honestly?  It was so lovely to come home to my darling Harry and Draco <3

I changed my mind about this fic a few times, and in the end, I went from the heart.  When it doubt, get out the feels :D

1.8K words, no smut.  Picture set by me, though I don’t own the images.  Featuring Sean O’Pry and Harry, and Boyd Holbrook as Draco.  

Tagging @ourloveislegendrarry@drarrygram@goldentruth813@oh-my-drarry@talkdrarrytome@elsa-the-snowbitch@trainingfortheballet-potter@27snowflakes@mangoapplepie@madoneworld@parseltonquinq@sprout2012@raykkenoha@the-green-quaffle@hurricanes-chasing@draconianpotterhead@icanhelpyouthere@a-eliz@gloster@teambucky@diydrarry@indigoprinceofslytherin@lamerrill92​ 


And A Partridge In A Pear Tree

  Harry wasn’t sure why he still did this to himself.  

  Year after year he came back.  It wasn’t that he did or didn’t want to, it was that he couldn’t not.  Not since that first time with Hermione in the snow, realising it was Christmas Eve as they stood in the square in Godric’s Hollow, staring at the monument built to Harry and his parents.

  Every year he came.  And every year it seemed a little colder.

  He knew come morning he would find himself at the Burrow, almost suffocating with happy cries of love and family as the extended Weasleys made him even more welcome than they did the rest of the year.  He knew he would be hugged and fed and teased, and he would be surrounded by nothing but life.

  He wasn’t sure if that was part of the bribe.  Of why allowed himself to come and stand alone on the night of the 24th, and lose himself for a while in his grief.

  He liked to think his parents were watching him all the time (well…maybe not all the time, he’d rather his mother not see him in the shower).  But in moments like this, where he reached out to them, he hoped they saw, and that it made them happy.  He hoped Sirius was there too, maybe with Remus and Tonks.  He hoped they had each other.  

  He took a shuddery breath as a cold tear slid down his face.  He never cried for them anymore, not in many years.  As the wounds from the war and the final battle healed Harry had vowed to live his life fully, honour the dead by celebrating the here and now.  But on Christmas Eve, he let himself be just a little sad.

  “I miss you,” he said quietly.  He knew he’d never really known his mum and dad enough to miss them, but he felt like he had through Sirius and Remus.  But them he did miss, deeply, along with Tonks, and Fred Weasley, and his beloved Hedwig…

  Another tear slipped down his cheek and he let a small sob rattle his chest. He wished he didn’t feel like he had to do this to himself, but there seemed no other way to get through Christmas Day and all its joy without succumbing to the guilt if he didn’t.  The only way he allowed himself that happiness was if he remembered those who had sacrificed themselves for him to be there in the first place.  He got to have a Christmas, because so many others no longer could.

  In the early years he had also visited his parents’ graves as well, but that had proven to be too much.  He needed the warm glow of the street lights, the chatter of passers-by, the rumble of traffic, otherwise, his thoughts drifted too far into the darkness.

  It was late now though, so most of the Muggles had headed home to prepare for the excitement of the morning.  Not that they paid much mind to the young man stood vigil at what they thought to be a water fountain.  

  If any wizards or witches had ever seen him over the years, they had mercifully let him be.

  Until now.

  “I understand if you want to be alone,” the voice said softly beside him.

  Harry didn’t react visibly.  Part of him wasn’t surprised, but a part of him jumped internally with several different emotions.  He was both surprised and not, scared and happy, resistant and welcoming.

  No one had ever acknowledged his little ritual, despite knowing full well about it. He smiled to himself though as he turned to his new companion.  Because if anyone was going to ignore Harry’s unspoken request, of course it was going to be Draco Malfoy.

  “Hi,” Draco said gently, a smile tugging at his lips.  “I hope you don’t mind, but, Hermione explained what you were doing – what you do every year apparently.”

  Harry sighed as the wind ruffled both their hair.  “And you thought you’d come and talk some sense to me?” he asked ruefully. He knew someone should, it had been a long time coming after all.

  But Draco shook his head.  “No,” he said, looking back up at the stone-carved baby Harry.  “I came to keep you company.”

  Snow was gathering on the Potters’ heads, and Harry shivered in his coat.  Draco huffed at this, and discreetly flicked his wand, enveloping them both in a warming charm.  

  Harry managed a smile.  “Thank you,” he said genuinely.  

  They stood a while in comfortable silence, looking up at the monument.  Harry had always firmly believed this was something he wanted to do by himself, that it was his burden to bear alone.  But he couldn’t help but admit that it was nice to have Draco with him now, as strange as that might seem.

  They weren’t the same two boys they were during the war.  Those boys had both been pushed by greater powers than they understood to play parts they couldn’t comprehend, and after the dust had settled, a surprising bond had crept between them.  They were both survivors, and all the petty reasons they had fought in the past had slowly melted away until Harry realised one day that he actually cared quite deeply for his former rival.  

  “Thank you,” he said again.

  Draco, ever the smart arse, gave him a fond little smirk.  “I’m just standing here, Potter,” he said, but the words were warm. “Not all that difficult.”

  “You know what I mean,” Harry said, rolling his eyes.  “Prat.”

  Draco nudged his shoulder with his own, and Harry found himself leaning in closer.  “Do you talk to them?” Draco asked in a voice so small it almost got lost in the snowflakes drifting to the ground.  

  Harry swallowed and inhaled slowly.  “Sometimes,” he said.  “There’s not really much new to say.”

  He felt the gloved hand slip into his own, and he stilled in shock and fear.  “Nonsense,” said Draco as if this was perfectly normal behaviour.  “I’m sure they’d love to know how brilliantly you’ve been doing at work.  Did you know that Mr and Mrs Potter?  He got another promotion.  He’s going to be Head Auror before you know it.”

  Harry laughed, it was small and incredulous, but there was a tiny amount of delight mixed in there too.  “I think that’s getting a little ahead isn’t it?” he said to Draco, who only glanced at him as he focused on the statues of his parents cradling the infant version himself.  

  “Nah,” said Draco grinning.  “You’re just being modest – he’s so modest Lily,” he said scornfully to Harry’s mum. “James – you’ll be thrilled to know he’s still beating me at Quidditch every chance he gets – his team trounced us at the inter-department tournament this year.”

  “You bet I did,” Harry did, squeezing Draco’s hand through their gloves, still not believing he was being allowed to do so.  More than that though, he couldn’t quite believe he was smiling, that the cold tears were drying on his cheeks.  “I love seeing that look on your face when I catch the snitch.”

  “I let you catch it,” said Draco.  “I love seeing the look on your face when you win.”

  They were staring at each now, and Harry wasn’t sure whether Draco was joking.  He didn’t really sound like he was.  “Oh,” he said nervously.  

  Draco seemed nervous too, but a little smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.  “Don’t your parents know how lovable you are?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as his voice wavered ever so slightly.  “Do they know how the room lights up when you enter? Do they know how you go out of your way to make people feel good about themselves?  Do they know,” he said, turning and stepping just a little closer. “That there’s no one else in the whole world quite like you?”

  Harry swallowed as the snow swirled around them, settling in the tendrils of Draco’s fine, pale hair, making his silvery eyes sparkle.  “Draco…?” he said, not really knowing what question he was asking.

  Draco bit his lip, and tentatively reached out his free hand to take Harry’s other one. “Hermione said you always do this every year, and you want to be alone.  But I couldn’t stand the thought of you being lonely.  And I realised, I don’t ever want you to feel alone.  I wanted to tell you…to finally tell you…that…”

  He blinked several times, unable to hold Harry’s gaze, instead looking to the flecks of snow resting on their boots.  “Yes?” Harry breathed, heart in his mouth.  

  Draco took a deep breath, and looked back up.  “I wanted to tell you that I’m here.  I’m right here and I don’t want you to be alone, to be lonely.  I want you,” he faltered but clenched his jaw, refusing to give up.  “I want you to be with me.  If that’s what you want.”

  Despite the cold Harry felt like he’d just slipped into a warm bath.  “You want to be with me?” he said, knowing he was just repeating what Draco had said, but it was so wonderful he wanted to hear it again.

  “If you’re going to be sad,” Draco said, grey eyes shining.  “On Christmas Eve, or any time.  I want to be there with you.  I can’t make it go away necessarily, but I’d like to try and make it a little better.  I want to be there for the good and the bad.  I want you…all of you.”

  Harry couldn’t help it as his face split into a grin, his eyes closing as tears of a very different nature sprung from behind his lids, tracing clean lines down his face as he tried to find the words that could possibly do justice to how he was feeling.

  “Yes,” he rasped after far too long, opening his eyes.  “Yes Draco, I want that too.  I want your good and bad, I want all of you too.  You’ve got me, you’ve already got me.”

  Their embrace was more a hurried bundle of scarves and coats, but Harry pressed the side of his face to Draco’s cheek, cold from the wind, and held onto him as if he intended never to let him go, which in a way, he guessed was true.  “You’ve got me,” he mumbled into his neck.

  Slowly, Draco pulled back, just a little, enough to move his face around hesitantly, before leaning carefully in to press their trembling lips together in their first, blissful kiss.  It was chaste to start with, a sweet touching of mouths that held a million promises. But slowly, gently, they began to move, moulding together, tongues slipping out to find their partner, dancing together as Harry finally admitted that he had wanted this for an extremely long time.  

  Eventually they parted, their bodies still pressed against one another as they hugged each other tightly, foreheads resting together under the dim glow of the snowy night.  “You’ve got me,” Harry said in little more than a whisper.  “The good and bad.  You’ve got me.”