ugh harris

anonymous asked:

(1/4) You were in a mood. Desperately-horny-to-the-point-of-tears kind of mood and Harry was well aware of this and absolutely refusing to give you what you wanted. And as if the obscenely wanton kisses all down your neck, across your jaw, and on your lips weren’t enough to make you want to cry, he was holding himself far enough above you that you couldn’t even find a small amount of release in grinding against him.

(2/4) “Why’re you squirming so much, love? Huh? Somethin’ wrong?” He teased, his gaze daring you to challenge him. It was gonna be one of those nights. “Nothin’, I… just wanna feel you,” you said quietly, trying to gauge the appropriateness of your response. “My baby wants to feel me, hm?” He smirked, sliding his arms around your body and flipping your position, moving to sit up against the headboard with you straddling his hips.

(¾) With his hands gripping your waist, he went back suckling marks into your neck. His hands slid down to grip your ass, holding your body close to his as he started to grind upwards. The sudden contact making you gasp slightly, fisting Harry’s shirt and hair, in desperate need of more than his just lips on your neck and the friction of clothed bodies rubbing together.

(4/4) “Harry,” you could help but whine as he nipped a particularly sensitive area near your collarbone, feeling the burn of tears behind your eyes because how desperately you wanted his cock to be fucking into you. “Good girls don’t whine, sweetheart. And I don’t think you wanna disobey Daddy tonight,” he growled into your ear. THE END LASJLDJASLKDJA

IM LITERALLY SWEATING NONNY HOW DARE YOU

My favorite type of days are those days where you kinda forget your phone exists. You spend your time cuddled up in bed or at the park reading a book and immersing yourself in a world that only yourself can see and understand. And right after that book, you pick up another one and another one. I find those sort of times where you just naturally stay away from social media and texting and snapchatting all day, and instead preoccupy yourself with a visit to the library or drawing flowers and people, listening to calm and happy music, so refreshing.

growing up, some kids did drugs. other’s smoked. some drank too much. i did fandoms and i swear i was higher than any of them could ever be.

Literature-savvy adults who “don’t understand” why adults enjoy Harry Potter (and other death-centric YA lit) are the stale raisins of the human race. Listen, adult lit is tagged as boring or depressing because a lot of it is about coming to terms with death, whereas YA lit is seen as immature because it’s almost universally about coming to terms with life. Harry Potter is about coming to terms with death as a means of coming to terms with life, ok Chadwick IV? Mystery solved sit back down on ur pile of 1st edition Steinbecks

okay but imagine that james wasn’t in the house that halloween. he was talking to dumbledore or out to get groceries or anything that has him out of the house. so lily is home alone but she still sacrifices herself for her son, so the curse still rebounds and hits voldemort and “kills” him. so harry is still the boy who lived, but james is alive

and of course it’s awful. it’s a terrible moment, burying lily. james is devestated and has no idea how he’s going to raise harry alone. he has to testify that peter betrayed the order, because he’s alive to pass on the knowledge that peter was his secret keeper, not sirius. sirius doesn’t go to prison because he’s too busy helping james cope with lily’s death to go after peter, and peter’s already faked his death by the time he can leave james. 

remus and sirius move in with james to help take care of harry, because he swears he can’t do it on his own. remus doesn’t have to focus on rent and food money because james tells him he’s family, so he can focus on a job he actually enjoys such as editing or writing, something freelance so he can take full moons off and no one will wonder why. 

sirius refuses to get any job beside full time babysitter, curls up as padfoot and keeps harry warm and safe, especially when the boy gets older and starts having nightmares about what happened to his mom. 

harry is raised in the wizarding world, with the most protective family of anyone he’s ever met, and invites ron and hermione over to his house during the summer and somehow padfoot always gets them into some sort of trouble. 

when harry goes through hardships at hogwarts, he always has his dad to turn to. james would stroke his hair back from his forehead and kiss his son’s scar and remind him, “your mother was the most brilliant witch there ever was and she’s watching over you, so you’ll never have to worry.” 

even when pettigrew comes back and revives voldemort, james is on the quidditch pitch the minute harry comes back with the cup and cedric’s dead body, remus and sirius right behind him and swearing he’ll destroy anyone who doesn’t take his son seriously. 

the fight at the ministry harry’s fifth year, james would remind sirius to keep focused, remind him not to get overwhelmed with adrenaline and to focus, and would watch not just harry’s back but his best friends’ too. when he sees sirius too focused on making fun to notice bellatrix amazing a curse straight at him, he dives in front of it to push sirius out of the way and ends up in St. Mungo’s after the fight, a little bruised and battered but with promises that he’ll heal and a sheepish apology from Padfoot in the former of an old, drool covered chew toy. 

when harry disappears seventh year, he and james keep in contact with the magical mirrors that belonged to sirius and james paces the kitchen every evening, listening to potterwatch and shrugging off Sirius’ shoulder on his hand telling him that their boy will be okay because he’s incredibly smart and incredibly brave and honestly mate how’d you make such an amazing boy? 

and then the fight at hogwarts happens. remus and sirius have each other’s backs and james just wants to find harry. he does, a little too late, being carried out of the woods in hagrid’s arms. he breaks down and drops to his knees and remus and sirius look at each other and think, “there is no way we can fix him after this.” 

but then harry is back and voldemort is dead and james’ face is tear stained and they’re all worn out and bruised but their family is alive and sirius, a little hesitantly, offers, “…so who wants ice cream?”

This is it guys, 19 years later, lets do this one last time.

Back to witches and wizards and to magical beasts 

To goblins and ghosts and to magical beasts 

It’s all that I want, and all that I need 

At Hogwarts, Hogwarts!

Your secret is safe with me

“Blaise,” Draco fumed, storming into the living room, “what happened to the chest of drawers in my room?”

Blaise looked up from the paper he was reading and grinned at Draco.

“Do you like the new one? You’ve been whining about it so much, I thought I’d just replace that awful old-timer.”

“What did you do with that old-timer?”

“I sold it,” Blaise shrugged.

“You sold it,” Draco repeated flatly.

“Yes.”

“Who did you sell it to?” Draco asked frantically.

“No idea,” Blaise said. “I didn’t get a name. Two people came by to pick it up. I think they were Muggles.”

Draco felt like he was about to faint.

“Did you take everything out beforehand?”

Blaise snorted.

“Of course! What do you take me for?”

“Everything?” Draco insisted.

Blaise raised an eyebrow at Draco’s tone and studied him.

“Yes, everything.”

Draco took a step closer and narrowed his eyes.

“Even what was under the secret false bottom in the second drawer, nobody but me knows about?”

Blaise paled and his mouth opened.

“Oh,” he simply said.

“Yes, oh,” Draco growled. “Great, now I have to hunt it down. You’re a lousy flatmate.”

“Hey, I just wanted to do you a favour,” Blaise said defensively.

“You better hope they haven’t found what’s inside it, or I’m going to kill you.”

Doing the locator spell was easy enough. Draco had feared it wouldn’t work, but it seemed there were no wards guarding the flat the chest of drawers had ended up in. Draco apparated to the flat, his heart hammering as he knocked.

When the door opened, Draco was sure he had to be dreaming. Of all the people in the world. Of course. Of course.

“Malfoy?” Potter seemed stunned. He was holding a toothbrush and was only dressed in a green t-shirt and pants. “How did you find me?”

Draco shook his head, willing his mind to work properly again.

“You have something of mine,” he said curtly.

“And what might that be?” Potter responded, a grin beginning to form on his lips. It took Draco off guard for a moment.

“Can I just come in and check something?”

Potter stepped aside and gestured for Draco to come in. Draco wasted no time and quickly found the chest of drawers in the corner of Potter’s bedroom. He opened the second drawer and took out the little book he had been so desperate to get back.

“What’s that?” Potter asked, leaning against the doorframe.

“Nothing of your concern. It shouldn’t have been in there,” Draco huffed.

“Hmmm,” Potter hummed. “You know, I never would have thought you kept a diary.”

Draco blushed, quickly hiding his hands behind his back.

“It’s not a diary,” he said lamely.

Potter nodded, but he had a mischievous smile on his face.

“You want a drink?” he asked, turning around and heading back into the living room. Draco blinked and tried to find his voice again.

“Um, no thank you. You were obviously getting ready for bed. I won’t disturb you any longer,” he said hastily.

“You sure? It might be a great opportunity,” Potter grinned. Draco gave him a quizzical look.

“What?”

“I don’t know,” Potter shrugged, “after two Firewhiskeys you might get the chance to run your hands through my incredibly infuriating, magnificent head of hair.” Potter tried to keep a straight face, but couldn’t suppress a snicker. “I might even let you touch my strong and marvellous jawline.”

Never had Draco wished more the ground would open and swallow him up.

“You read it,” he said through gritted teeth. “You had no right.”

“True,” Potter replied, nonchalant. “I’d let you read mine in return, but I don’t keep a diary.” He stepped closer to Draco, studying his face intently.

“You look rather cute when you’re flushed.”

Draco made a sound that was something between a weird gurgle and a high-pitched squeak. Whatever it was, it was highly embarrassing.

Potter chuckled, coming to a halt right in front of Draco.

“I mean, I could just show you what kind of fantasies I’d be writing in that diary,” he said in a low whisper.

Draco gulped, not quite grasping what Potter was saying.

“Like what?” he breathed.

“Hmmm.” Potter’s eyes flickered down to Draco’s lips. “Like how I want to grab you right now and kiss you until you can’t breathe.”

Draco’s mouth opened involuntarily. Breathing was already hard with Potter standing so close to him.

“And then,” Potter continued, deliberately breathing on Draco’s lips, “I’d want your hands on the most delicious and perfect arse you have ever seen in your life.”

Draco groaned loudly. This was just too much. But then again, Potter really seemed to be teasing him in a rather flirtatious way. Trying to conceal his nervousness, he raised his chin and fixed Potter with a glare.

“These better not just be empty promises,” Draco said haughtily.

“Oh, they’re not,” Potter smirked, his eyes gleaming as he started pouring their drinks.

Remus: How does James stay so fit with all those chips he’s been eating?

Sirius: …

Sirius: Yeah it’s probably all the Quidditch

How Drarry Came To Be
  • Draco: *on one of his Potter rants*
  • Blaise: Oh no
  • Draco: What
  • Blaise: You're in love with him
  • Draco: Ugh, as if! He's so annoying and his hair is always a mess and he always acts like he doesn't care and-
  • Draco: Well it's not like I lie awake at night thinking about him.
  • -Later that night-
  • Draco, lying wide awake in bed: Oh no