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cupidford · 1 year

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I've not done a big rec list in months and have so many stories to share with you! Here are some...I went with a mix of 20, with more to come! Also I've got love letters for these queued for the next few months, so look out for 'em! xx

❤️‍🔥TOP FIC - One of the best fics I've read in a few years!❤️‍🔥

Indefinite Lines by ArwaMachine

Sherlock and John find themselves faced with a series of seemingly disparate cases, one involving murdered children and one involving ghosties that little Rosie tries to help solve. Except the cases are growing increasingly connected, increasingly personal. ~298.5k

🔥TOP HOT FIC🔥

Vicarious by CouldBeDangerous (VestedVestra)

John starts smoking with a woman at work. Sherlock couldn't be happier. The smoking kink spirals... ~44k

💗💗💗💗💗💗

The Man With the Cartier Frames by JRow

Sherlock's case will surely be solved quickly...in between trips to Putney to help with Rosie, collecting her from school, and preparing for her sleepover at 221B. ~32.5k

The Long and the Short of It by Accident, Hobbitsfeet

What if John and Rosie move back into Baker Street, and Rosie decides she is going to parent-trap them? Or so she thinks... ~44.5k

❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️

Spare Parts by Raina_at

Futuristic sci-fi au, 24th century. On the Planet Titan, Sherlock comes back from the dead after two years. While figuring out why the biggest manufacturer or synthetic limbs in the System is going after veterans, Sherlock and John also need to find out whether there's a way to fix what's broken between them. ~63.5k

A Doctor in the House by KittenKin

S3 fix it. Sherlock returns, with John immediately taking care of him as his doctor. John uses index cards as a guide to speaking with him, and Sherlock in turn has questions. ~32.5k

Again by DiscordantWords

Christmas. It never seemed like the right time. And then time ran out. Until John makes a wish and gets a second chance. ~10k

💘💘💘💘💘💘

Cupid's Venom by SilentAuror

Stamford tells Sherlock that he wished he could have taken credit for being Cupid. Unfamiliar with the reference, Sherlock plunges into studies of toxins and Greek mythology... ~29.5k

Live from the Morgue by disfictional

Post trf. Molly interviews Sherlock on her podcast, Live from the Morgue. John listens. ~10k

A Rock, An Island by stopthat

TRF fix it/redo. John is not so blind. He sees a lot more than he’s given credit for. ~5k

💝💝💝💝💝💝

A not-so-meticulously prepared art by aquileaofthelonelymountain

Greg agrees to pick up Sherlock from a pub, and he's going to regret it soon - for Sherlock is drunk, talkative, and desperately in love with his flatmate. ~6k

Waiting in the Wings by standbygo

John finally gets the courage to ask Sherlock for a romantic relationship. But when they run into an old friend of Sherlock's, John wonders if it would be best to step aside. ~7k

All I Want for Christmas (is Proof) by Raina_at

Sherlock and John go undercover at a Christmas party in a gay club. In costume. Things... escalate. ~6.5k

💕💕💕💕💕💕

Hypotheticals by ArwaMachine

John finally manages to confess his love to Sherlock. Sherlock, of course, has questions. Lots of questions. Switchlock, Established Relationship. ~7k

A Second to Midnight by AlgySwinburne

John invites Sherlock out on January 29. It is, at face value, a date. If Sherlock weren’t a part of the equation, it would most certainly be a date. But because he is, it must be something else entirely. ~4.5k

January 6 by Gxlyleo

John keeps reliving the same day and has no clue why. He makes a list. ~14k

❤️ HONORABLE MENTIONS ❤️

Rhinestone Cowboy by consult_this_prick

After the death of his father, John drops out of college and returns home to take care of the family farm. He still hasn't processed the death of his father and new problems arise when his ex-best friend, Sherlock, comes home for the summer to work on his research. ~37k

Come Back to Me by BenAddictViolaBatch

A fusion of Sherlock and the classic 1980 film, "Somewhere in Time." In 1945, John receives a brief and mysterious visit from an elderly scientist, Sherlock. John researches Holmes and learns that he died on the same night of the visit. He realises that they are destined for each other. ~21.5k

A Strange Encounter by holmesian_love

John heads to the bank to speak his mind and instead finds himself distracted by a stranger who turns his plans around. ~7.5k

Accidental Magic by Calais_Reno

After his return Sherlock takes the case of a woman seeking stolen books hidden in her late husband’s library.Working together after so much time apart, John and Sherlock begin to discover more than stolen books. ~40k

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rockingrobin69 · 9 months

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Colour-full

It was the hottest Saturday in July and Teddy had been climbing the actual walls before Harry broke and said, “Okay, okay, to the park then.”

(The wall thing was new. Ron said it was quite ‘Spider-Lad’ of him; Hermione laughed so hard she kinked her neck. Teddy’s magic, still so new and boundaryless, often manifested in ways that were either literal, or just plain wild).

And so to the park they went. To ride the stupid ‘pirate ship’ (“just one more time!”) and chase after dogs (“Teddy, no, it’s their ball!”) and get ice cream (“Please please please Uncle Harry”). Harry was, at his core, a big softie, and for Teddy all the more; so, yes, he located the nearest stand, and marched to take his place in the queue with all the resolve of a godfather on a mission.

Waited a veritable ever with Teddy’s order on repeat in his mind (chocolate with strawberry syrup, chocolate with strawberry syrup) until he was face to face with the ice cream display and—oh no, he felt faint.

Draco Malfoy should not be allowed to wear magenta.

Not because he looked bad, per-se (he looked ridiculous, like, fuck-me, ridiculous. With the hat, magenta, and the uniform, magenta, with his hair and his nose ring and a thick black choker). Mostly because the effect was a bit much, and Harry lost his ability to form speech when grey eyes finally deigned to grace him with a look.

“What can I get you, Sir?”

Blinked and blinked and sweated and blinked. “Malfoy,” Harry tried. “It’s me.”

“Indeed. So, ice cream, or…?”

Like a kick to the shin. “What? It’s—what are you even—it’s me. Harry Potter. Your, er, I mean, what are you doing selling ice cream in my park?”

One pierced eyebrow hitched. “My apologies. I wasn’t aware they’d made it your park.” With an overly-dramatic huff: “am I still allowed to work here, Mr. Potter?”

“What?” was really all he could give.

“Tell you what. Why don’t you order your ice cream, I’ll get it for you, and even refrain from spitting in it, as a personal favour. Then off you go on your merry little way and maybe get a new shirt because, sorry to say, but this one is painful on the eyes.”

“This shirt is painful on the eyes?” Harry growled, pointing at the magenta uniform, the magenta hat, the magenta backdrop of the cart.

“You’re right. Probably not the shirt. The face attached to it seems to be the problem. Now, Potter, there are people behind you, and it’s hot as fuck, so. Ice cream or sod off?”

For the longest moment he considered sodding off, but Teddy was sitting on that bench and looking very hopeful, and—charming little bubbles in rainbow colours all around him? Shit. “Erm, chocolate with raspberry syrup. Please.”

“Always were a man of high tastes,” Malfoy smirked, but he gave Harry a couple of scoops and a generous dousing of syrup, then charged him something exorbitant, then winked. Harry—had no time to deal with this.

Running back to Teddy (“hey, buddy, so, those bubbles, are you making them on purpose or…?”) with an already-dripping ice cream cone and a strange, swooping feeling in his belly (not hunger). By the time he’d spelled Ted’s hands clean, he already forgot about Malfoy and the whole thing.

Only remembered that night after bedtime. The back of his eyes when he shut them shone oddly magenta.

Went to the park the following week without Teddy (spending some time with Remus’s cousin). On his own, in a fairly-nice shirt and smart shoes. Not because, erm, just, he had to make sure. Right? Had to make sure.

The cart wasn’t where Harry’d seen it last week. Possibly he imagined the whole thing? He was overheated and terribly sleep-deprived. But on his way back to the car park, a different ice cream stand, where the staff seemed to be dressed in neon-green, and one of them was flipping Harry off.

Oh. It felt just like that in his chest: an oh. There he was.

Marched over with wholesome indignation, fist ready for the shaking. But Malfoy stepped out of the cart, leaning in its shadow. “Back for another go? We’ve got a new apple-kiwi flavour.”

“What happened to the,” big hand gesture, “magenta place?”

“Hmm? It’s still there. I just think green’s more my colour,” head titled back, long throat bare. “What do you want, Potter? Don’t tell me you came here for ice cream.”

“What if I did?” asked Harry, who didn’t.

Malfoy sighed. His eyes opened, large and startling. “Then I’d recommend you get in the queue and leave me the fuck alone.”

“And—” hand reaching out to stop him, no, Malfoy can’t leave, that’s not how this worked, “and what if it wasn’t ice cream I came for?”

“Then you need to make a decision. If it’s a brawl you want, you’d have to wait till after my shift. If it’s—something else,” suddenly he was very close, huffing warm breath on Harry’s face, “then you should really get here earlier.”

“What? Why?” paralysed by the proximity, buzzing on Malfoy’s sharp smell, apple and citrus and—kiwi?

“Potter, this is the ice-cream world. First come, first serve.” And he was off, back to the cart with his choker and his arse, for which such tight trousers should be made fucking illegal. Put his arm around his coworker, winked again. Harry didn’t like it, didn’t know what to do with the whole thing, with any of it. Took himself back home and sulked at the walls until too late at night.

Decided. It was even fairly easy. Fell asleep and dreamed of a forest, of the sea.

Continue reading on Ao3 - or below the cut

“Brawl,” he announced when he finally found Malfoy, now wearing all yellow. “I want a brawl. You need to be punched, and I could take a few kicks, I reckon. Let’s brawl.”

“Hurray,” Malfoy smiled. “I finish at six. Meet me behind the pirate ship. And, Potter, you should probably wear something a little less nice if fisticuffs is what you’re going for.”

Not grinning (Malfoy thinks his shirt is nice?) Harry went back home, made lunch for Teddy, dreamed a little with his eyes open. Cleaned the debris of the cabinet Ted’s magic accidentally exploded, releasing candy flying everywhere, changed into joggers and a tee.

“Where are you going, again?” asked Ron, who came by to babysit. He settled down in the living room with a hand on the remote and the other around a huge bowl of popcorn.

“Nowhere special. Just a little walk in the park or something. Going to watch the new Spider-Lad?”

“Paw Patrol!” Teddy exclaimed, his whole face a toothless grin.

Ron rolled his eyes. “Paw Patrol? Again? Teddy, there’s a whole world of cinematic goodness for us to discover, and Auntie Hermione still thinks I’m full of it but there are whole films about animals who can talk!”

“Full of it,” Harry said.

“Shut up, mate, I’m serious! What do you say, Ted? A lion that can sing, or those pup detectives again?”

“Paw Patrol!”

“Okay. Paw Patrol it is.” A desolate, commiserating look to Harry: “Honestly, what is it tonight? You can’t stop smiling.”

“Nothing, nothing, I promise.” Nearly ran to the park, was there well before half-five, antsy and giddy and nervous. Walked around and around in circles, oblivious to the kids and families and shouts from the pirate ship. To anything that wasn’t—

Malfoy appeared, still in yellow, making him look slightly sallow and lanky. Coming closer. Harry’s heart was rioting in his chest, was going to deafen him.

“You came,” Malfoy said. He looked pleased. It was shaded behind the ride, a grassy area empty of trees. Malfoy dropped his backpack to the ground, pulled something out of it. Still crouched: “Do you want to count us down, or…?”

“Erm. Sure.” Harry’s never really done it like this before. Scheduled like a play-date or something. Malfoy was still on his knees near the bag. “Three… two… one?”

What attacked him was too soft and too cold to be hands—oh, Malfoy just dumped ice cream on his head, quickly melting into his hair, sticky down his throat, under his shirt. Tongue darting out to taste it: yuck, lemon.

“Bastard!” Harry cried, half-blinded with the soft substance, lunging at him with his eyes closed: “come here, you fucking, arsehole, let me,” found Malfoy’s hair and pulled. “You think this is funny?”

“Ow, ah, ha ha,” fucker, he really did, folded nearly in two in Harry’s arms, “it, gods, just too much—”

“Yeah? How would you like it if I,” scooping a dollop out of his hair and shoving it in the general area of Malfoy’s face, hopefully where the choking sounds were coming out of.

“Potter, stop, stop, I can’t,” laughing like a maniac, not even trying to kick Harry off. “Potter!”

Harry somehow managed to shove them both to the grass, where they’d started rolling, sticky and covered in horrible melting cream, both of them swimming in it, both of them laughing. “You’re such a git,” smearing as much as he could on Malfoy’s face, on his uniform, on his neck. Climbed atop him and pinned him down, laughing, laughing.

“You,” Malfoy sputtered, “P-otter, ha, I can’t, ow, ah—”

“Am I hurting you?” asked Harry, who only earlier today planned on punching him. Slid on top of Malfoy’s slimy clothes until he had one sticky cheek in his hand. “Malfoy, are you okay?”

He was still laughing. “Is this,” his chest heaving, “is this what you, ha, wanted?”

“No,” empathetically, laughing too. “You’re a lunatic. It’s—grand.”

“Honestly, when you came and, haha, brawl, I couldn’t—” wiping his eyes, it must sting, all this melted ice cream where it really shouldn’t be. “Ow, this was a terrible idea.”

Harry didn’t know if he agreed. Sticking his pinkie finger in the welling of liquid gathered under Malfoy’s collarbone, bringing it to his lips: “It’s actually not that bad.”

“Hmm?” looking up at Harry, those bright eyes. “Yes?”

“Here, have some.” It was half surprising, how gentle his finger was, tracing Malfoy’s bottom lip till it opened. How carefully he fed Malfoy his own ice cream. Half a surprise and half… not.

Malfoy licked his lips, made Harry’s whole body shiver. “Mm. Not the best. Come back tomorrow and I’d give you something really nice.”

“Can it maybe come in a cone?” this hopeful thing igniting in his belly. “You know, like normal ice cream?”

Malfoy was still laughing. Harry could feel it between his knees, where Malfoy’s ribs were shaking. “Sure. In a cone. You chicken.”

“I’m the—” incensed, Harry leaned down to swipe a big lick from Malfoy’s neckline all the way to his jaw. It tasted awful and slightly electrifying. Forgetting all about the rebuke, Harry did it again.

“Po—Potter,” a moan, when Harry sucked the salty-sweet skin. “Potter!”

“Sweet,” Harry said nonsensically. “You—it’s sweet.”

His smile, when it stretched in yucky, sticky lines on his face. Made Harry’s chest sort of spark. “I can be sweet, too. Just you wait.”

When he kissed him, he tasted like lemons.

The next day Teddy accidentally grew a tail and two ears while arguing another rewatch of Paw Patrol. The nice witch from Mungo’s said it was no issue, that they would probably spell off in a day or two. Gave them a very odd-looking hat and advised them to go out and enjoy this brilliant, sunny day.

What else could they do, then, but go to the park?

Walked around and around, rode the pirate ship three times, searched in every ice cream stand until, by total accident: “Potter,” with a tilt of his head. All in blue, a truly unfair sight. “And his little monkey, too.”

“I’m a pup!” Teddy shouted, running towards him. “Paw Patrol!”

“Indeed,” Malfoy agreed with a strange smile. “It’s good to meet you, Edward. I’m—”

“Draco Malfoy!” Teddy already knew? Somehow? “Uncle Harry talks about you all the—”

“Ha ha,” covering the whole little face with his hand, “he’s joking, of course. No, I, erm, probably told him a thing or two about the—ice cream, or something. Teddy, do you want some ice cream?”

“Mm-hmm!” from behind Harry’s hand. Pointing at a flavour that didn’t look much like anything, a blue blurb.

Malfoy nodded, considering. “Excellent choice, young pup sir. Blueberry bubble-gum, coming right up. And for the gentleman?”

Teddy pointed at something that looked even less like it should be edible. Malfoy’s devilish grin told him he was correct in that assessment. “Hmm. Naturally, naturally. In fact, and if I might add—sprinkles?”

Ted started jumping up and down. His hat shifted slightly, showing what now were—

“Oh my,” Malfoy covered his own mouth, and what turned out to be laughter, “blue ears, Edward? That’s not something you see every day.”

Teddy came forward to watch how Malfoy scooped up the ice cream with the big spoon, eyes round. “Can I do that?” he turned to Harry. “Please, please, can I—”

“Why not? Hop in. I’ll show you how to do it so even your Uncle Harry is impressed.” And he guided Teddy’s hand to scoop up Harry’s ice cream, in what had to be at least twenty different health-code violations. “Do you want to do the sprinkles too?”

Was how they all ended up covered in sprinkles, and Malfoy closed off the stand (“smoking break, something, whatever,”) and they took a walk around the park till they found a slightly shaded area.

It really was a brilliant day. Teddy was happy enough even with the weird, itchy hat, and Malfoy was—bright blue. This thing melting in Harry’s chest felt uncomfortably close to ice cream.

On his lunch break the next day, Malfoy was wearing orange. He wondered if it was his ice-cream business, and he’s the one who changed colour every day; or if there truly were so many rivalling stands, each with their own theme. It didn’t matter. None of it did, besides for Malfoy’s lips, which stretched into a smile, and his eyes, crinkling with it too, and his hands, reaching out for Harry.

“So?” he asked when Harry was close enough to take one. “Did I pass. The test. The—dogged deliberation.”

“What are you talking about?” Harry laughed, pulled him closer.

“Teddy, of course! You brought him as your expert judge, I expect. What did he say? Am I allowed to do this?” brought Harry’s hand to his mouth, kissed it. “And, this?” pinched his side painfully.

“Ow! Bastard! I didn’t—Teddy was just off because of the whole, ear thing. I didn’t bring him to judge you or whatever.”

“So why did you come here?” eyebrow rising, rising. With that piercing that made Harry want to lick it. “I mean, there are many other things you could do on a day off, but you keep coming—here.”

“This is my park,” Harry reminded him gently. Malfoy scoffed, turned his face away. “Hey—”

“No, no, you’re right. Your park. I suppose that makes me your employee? Kinky shit, Sir.”

“Malfoy.” Tugged his chin up, made him look. “I keep coming here because I like you. Because you’re deranged and I don’t get you half the time and I like you. Is that enough, or do you want the whole song and dance?”

This half-smile he kept chewing on springing loose. “Ooh, there’s a dance?”

Harry kissed him, helpless with it. “You’re such an arsehole,” into his neck, and today Malfoy smelled like orange blossom and like mango, something addictive and crushing, unbearable. “How do you even,” inhaling deep, deep, “do this?”

“Magic, of course,” Malfoy laughed, and kissed him back.

The problem was it was magic. The problem was Harry couldn’t get enough. The main problem was, he couldn’t remember why that was a problem.

The next day he couldn’t go to the park again (something about staying an hour past his lunch break? Something about barely showing up to work in a week. Something about being an adult and having responsibilities, something silly). Harry texted the number Malfoy gave him, which might have been a joke, or a hoax, didn’t hope for much.

Got a reply a little too quickly. A photo of an ice cream stand, all in pink. Then an emoji with the tongue sticking out. Harry thought: this man is mad, and I might be head over heels for him. Smiled into his coffee cup and thought about what to cook for Teddy tonight. Maybe he’d invite Malfoy over? Maybe it could be a thing. God, could he make it a thing, could he build something out of it, this colourful whirlwind of a spark?

Closed his eyes: everything was pink, like a mouth puckered for a kiss, like cartoon hearts. Decided, and it was even fairly easy.

“You have to try the lavender.”

“Yes, Uncle Harry, try it, try it!”

Harry rolled his eyes, prayed for mercy. “Awfully suspicious, the two of you are being.”

“What! Teddington, I think your uncle just insulted us. Show him how we feel about that.” Teddy tried to pout, but he was smiling too much. “Very good. Now, come on, Harry, we made it especially for you!”

It was purple. The whole cart, the whole world, behind his eyelids and the silly suit Malfoy was wearing. Harry opened his mouth and let them stick a spoon in. Swallowed: lavender. Oddly nice, just a little sweet, just the way he liked it.

“You both are,” Harry tried, couldn’t find the word. Mad and brilliant and purple. “Ach, come here.” Wrapping his arms around all the sticky limbs he could find, this rumbling in his chest still, to this day, close to toppling him over.

It was very colourful, being alive.

In the distance Ted’s bubbles were distinctly purple, too.

For the brilliant @purplehotmess who gave me such a sweet prompt!

#drarry fic #3k #SWEET FLUFF WARNING #Harry raises Teddy #Draco is an ice-cream maker #accidental magic #rockingrobin69

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drarrypotterrenaissance · 9 months

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Magic from the Start

A weekly brunch, a discussion of the things parents hide under their children's pillows and why, accidental magic, and the discovery that Harry James Potter has been this way since the beginning. For @harryjamespotterweek 2023, Day 6 (Brunch, Non-Magical AU) Rated T, 2.6k words. Read on ao3 here

In the aftermath of everything, Harry’s magic had been a bit… odd. It was inconsistent, sometimes almost fighting him and making it difficult to cast even the most basic of spells, and other times acting on his slightest thoughts without him even realizing it, summoning things he vaguely considered getting and conjuring tissues before he had finished sneezing. He’d gone to a few specialists, done some therapeutic magic rehabilitation sessions, and made decent progress on getting back to normal. The overall consensus was that his magic was stronger now that it had been before, and he wasn’t used to the new power running through him, and so his body was alternating attempting to suppress it and just letting it flow freely. Harry was getting better, but sometimes, especially when his friends dragged him out of bed to go to a brunch so early it should still have been called breakfast, he still slipped up.

Draco had hardly finished saying, “Pass the salt,” before the salt cellar had zoomed into his hand, while sugar added itself to Harry’s tea and butter spread itself on his toast. Pansy and Blaise were laughing uproariously, delighted as always by the chance to tease, and Ron seemed to be fighting back laughter too at the maelstrom of breakfast foods and cutlery surrounding his best friend. Hermione and Draco were disposed to be slightly more sympathetic, although they also betrayed him when a dollop of whipped cream from a stack of waffles overshot Harry’s plate and ended up on his nose.

Scowling at all of them, Harry scrubbed his napkin across his face.

“Oh, cheer up,” Pansy said, her face the very picture of cheerful spite, “I’m sure the Fairy Queen will leave you a nice present under your pillow.”

Immediately, all the breakfast chaos surrounding Harry ceased. Ron, Blaise, and Draco continued to laugh, but Hermione seemed just as confused as Harry was.

“What?”

“You’re a bit old for it, but I’m sure the Fairy Queen will still give you a sickle, especially for a display of magic as impressive as that,” Pansy said, and then cut herself off with another peal of laughter.

Harry glanced over at Hermione, and when she didn’t provide him with a reading list, bibliography, and thorough explanation of who the Fairy Queen was and why she would be coming to visit Harry all of a sudden, he turned to Draco.

“Who’s the Fairy Queen?”

Pulling himself together, Draco turned towards Harry.

“You don’t know who the Fairy Queen is?”

Both Harry and Hermione shook their heads. The others’ laughter was fading.

“I guess we’d all grown out of it, by the time we made it to school,” Ron said, with the tone of someone trying to apologize and soften a blow. “But it’s something all wizarding kids know about, I would have assumed that you would have picked it up from somewhere.”

Again, Harry and Hermione shook their heads.

“It’s something that parents do for their children when they’re coming into their magic, they pretend to be the Fairy Queen,” Draco began, before being cut off by Blaise.

“What?!” he cried in faux-scandalized tones. “What do you mean, pretend? The Fairy Queen is real, Draco Malfoy, and if you don’t believe in her she won’t come!”

Blaise and Pansy burst into renewed giggles, while Draco rolled his eyes and continued.

“As I was saying, the Fairy Queen is a being made up by wizarding parents to reward their children when they first show signs of magic. It’s something to be celebrated, of course, and so the story goes that the Fairy Queen, who sprinkles fairy dust on every child at birth, returns to celebrate the blooming of magic in another young wizard. She comes while the child is sleeping, so that no one will see her and capture her, but she always leaves behind a gift of some sort. For some families it’s coins, for some it’s sweets, and for some it’s toys. The present is usually left beside their pillow, or beside the bed for them to find when they wake up.”

Harry had a few memories of Dudley receiving similar treatment for lost teeth in his childhood, but it was Hermione who voiced the comparison.

“Oh! Like the Tooth Fairy!”

The pure bloods at the table looked horrified.

“The what?” Pansy asked.

“The Tooth Fairy,” Hermione explained. “When a muggle child loses a tooth, they put it under their pillow so that the Tooth Fairy will come and take the tooth, leaving money behind.”

Blaise had gently pushed his plate away. “That’s disgusting.”

“What does the Tooth Fairy want with a bunch of kid’s teeth?” Ron asked.

Hermione paused for a moment, considering. “I’m not sure it’s the same in every family, but my parents always told me that she used them to build her palace.”

Draco and Pansy now had looks of disgust to match the one on Blasie’s face.

“Potter,” Draco said seriously, turning to give Harry his full attention, “I know it’s probably still too soon in the relationship to discuss hypothetical future children and parenting techniques, but please promise me that if we have children together you will not build a palace out of their baby teeth.”

“The parents don’t actually build anything out of them, Draco, that’s just what they tell them.”

“Oh, I feel so reassured about how normal and sane this practice is now,” Draco drawled, rolling his eyes again. “What do they do with them then, if they don’t build the supposed tooth castles?”

Harry looked at Hermione for help; he had never seen what Aunt Petunia did with Dudley’s baby teeth, he just remembered Dudley bragging about the money he got the next morning.

“Some parents save them, and some throw them away,” Hermione said, although clearly the idea of keeping a box of baby teeth still didn’t sit well with most of their friends.

“I would like to ban the further discussion of body part collection from this and all future brunches,” Pansy said, taking a delicate sip of her tea. “Let’s go back to making fun of Potter.”

Harry made a face at her, but he was starting to see her point. He’d never thought much about the Tooth Fairy before, but he was certainly glad he hadn’t ever come across a box of teeth while cleaning the house on Privet Drive.

“Going back to an earlier subject,” Blaise suggested, “What was everyone’s first accidental magic? Do you remember?”

Pansy beamed, and Draco groaned.

“I remember Pansy’s, I was there for it. She was a little terror even then, and a spoiled brat to boot.”

Pansy’s smile grew even more smug. “I was a precocious child, there’s no denying that. Draco here is just jealous because my magic manifested before his.”

“By one week!”

“Nine whole days, Draco.”

Ron quickly interrupted their bickering. “What happened?”

“Imagine, if you will, a beautiful day in late May,” Pansy said, spreading her hands in a dramatic fashion. “The air was fresh with potential, and the flowers had come into bloom not long before, in clear anticipation of my prowess.”

“She thought she saw a diamond and the bottom of the Manor’s koi pond and threw all the water and the fish into the air and onto the lawn, only to discover it was a piece of quartz.”

Pansy glared at Draco, who simply raised his eyebrows in return. There was a beat of silence, and then Ron laughed.

“Really?”

“Oh, believe it, Weasley. The house elves were running around like mad, trying to get the fish back into the pond and fill it with water again. My mother complained all summer that her hydrangeas never flourished properly that year.”

“And Draco cried because one of the fish landed on his head,” Pansy added, smiling nastily.

“I hate you,” Draco said, and Pansy cackled.

“Hermione, you’ll like mine,” Ron said, clearly eager to avoid a repeat of the Brunch Incident from three months ago.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I should have told you ages ago, it’s proof we were meant to be together from the start, I could have saved a lot of time at school if I’d just told you about how my magic manifested. You would have been begging me to go out with you.”

Hermione pursed her lips. “Go on, then.”

“See, mum used to read us stories at naptime, to help us fall to sleep, and dad would read to us before bed. It worked pretty well, since we all had staggered bedtimes, but in the week before Charlie went off to school things got a little chaotic. Mum had helped me clean my teeth and put on my pajamas, but dad never came in to read to me, so I pulled a book off the shelf and my magic charmed it to read out loud to me. When dad finally remembered that he’d forgotten to say goodnight to me, he panicked halfway up the stairs because heard a stranger’s voice coming from my room and thought I was in danger. He burst in with his wand drawn, only to find me curled up in bed, following along as the book read itself to me.”

Hermione stared at him for a moment, then leaned in and kissed him soundly.

“No kissing at the brunch table!” Draco cried. Harry felt a streak of savage joy too, Hermione was usually the one chastening the two of them for getting a little too close, it was nice to see it turned back on her for a change.

She pulled back from Ron, slightly pink cheeked, but looking very pleased.

“What was your first accidental magic?” Ron asked her.

“Oh! Well, it actually does go along with yours quite nicely,” Hermione said, but then Pansy interrupted.

“Wait, how did your parents handle it? I mean, you didn’t find out about magic until you were eleven, right? What do muggles do when their kids start shooting off spells when they’re still too young to know about Hogwarts?”

“They were certainly confused,” Hermione said with a bit of a wry grin. “Someone had given me this little book lamp, the type that clips onto the book you’re reading so you can read in bed, and I would use it to read books under the covers after my parents had put me to bed. I was fairly young, maybe four years old, and so I wasn’t that great at being quiet or hiding what I was doing. My parents were pleased that I liked to read, of course, but they couldn’t have me staying up all night, and so they started taking the batteries out of the lamp each night.”

“What are batteries?” Blaise asked.

“Oh, I know this one!” Draco said. “They’re things that muggles put into ec-lec-trik-al devices that give them energy!”

Harry kissed him on the cheek and whispered, “Good job, love,” in his ear, and Draco preened.

“Yes, exactly,” Hermione said, returning to her story. “So, the light shouldn’t have worked without them, but they kept finding me reading with it each night anyway. Then, they tried taking the lamp itself away from me, but it kept appearing back in my bed by the next morning anyway. They assumed it was faulty wiring and were quite scared that it might be dangerous, so eventually they just put me to bed half an hour earlier each night and let me read with the light on so I’d at least be safe.”

Harry grinned. “It’s nice to know that you’ve always been yourself, Hermione. And I see how you managed to read the entire course list by the time you got on the train, too!”

Draco turned to Harry then and asked gently, “What about you? Your aunt must have known about magic, growing up with your mother - did she tell your uncle? What sort of accidental magic did you do?”

Everyone was looking at him, and Harry didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t had happy, exciting celebrations of his magic, or his cleverness, or anything else even close to that as a child. He hadn’t even had a visit from the Tooth Fairy. But his friends were there, waiting to hear what he would say, and Ron and Hermione looked so ready to be supportive no matter what he said, and Draco’s thumb was stroking Harry’s knee almost absentmindedly, and so Harry said, “Er, I mostly got into and out of trouble.”

Ron chuckled at that, and Draco gave him a small smile.

“Well, no surprises there, Potter. What havoc did you wreak?”

“I’m not really sure what my first bout of accidental magic was,” Harry began slowly, “but I remember shrinking a sweater that my aunt was trying to make me wear. It was horrible, and I made it so she couldn’t even get it over my head. She was so mad, but said that it must have shrunk in the wash.”

“Are you telling us you actually had fashion sense at one point in your life?” Pansy said, and Harry cracked a smile.

“I have fashion sense now,” Harry responded.

“No, you have me, and I tell you what to wear,” Draco said, which was unfortunately too true to dispute.

“Anyway, I think that was some of the first magic I did, but a year later I grew back all of my hair overnight. My aunt cut off everything except for my bangs, to hide my scar, because she was sick of how unruly it was and didn’t want people at school to see. I was so worried the other kids would make fun of me, but it had all grown back perfectly the next morning.”

Draco gave a theatrical groan and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “So I’ve been wasting my conditioner on you for nothing!”

“After that, a bunch of strange things happened at school. Stuff would spill on Dudley and his friends when they tried to bully people, and one time I was running away from them and suddenly ended up on the roof of the school kitchens. Oh, and I accidentally set a boa constrictor free from the zoo once.”

“I don’t believe it,” Draco said. His tone was exasperatedly fond, and everyone else was nodding in agreement. “You’ve really been like this since birth, haven’t you?”

“Like what?” Harry asked, perplexed.

“‘Like what?’ he says, as if he doesn’t know. Like you! Stubborn, reckless, incredibly powerful, and determined to protect others. You’re ridiculous, it beggars belief.” Draco’s tone was scoffing, but his smile was soft on his face, and Harry leaned into him as he put his arm over the back of his chair.

“He blew up his aunt once, too,” Ron added, to the clear amazement of everyone else present. “Sent her right into the sky like a balloon, they had to send the magic reversal squad and the obliviators to sort it all out.”

“Of course, that was after he had started at Hogwarts,” Hermione pointed out, “so Harry himself didn’t have to be obliviated.”

“Oh my goodness,” said Blaise, shock and awe written clear across his face. “I don’t think I’ve ever given our professors enough credit for how brave they were, facing down your teenage angst every day. Snape was lucky you didn’t do him in on a weekly basis, if you were really that powerful.”

Ron’s face lit up. “He came close though once, do you remember? In sixth year?”

“Yes! The whole school was talking about it! I only wish I could have seen it myself,” Draco said wistfully. “‘There’s no need to call me sir, professor’, honestly, that might have been the highlight of that entire year.”

Even Hermione started laughing at Draco’s impression of Harry’s moody teenager voice, and as Harry squeezed Draco’s hand and laughed along with them, he thought how glad he was to live in a world with magic.

#hjpweek2023 #drarry fic #harry potter fanfiction #brunch #non-magical au (not really but it is the trope that inspired me)#accidental magic #my writing #my fic

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splendidissimus · 9 months

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Draco had to be using wandless magic in the Fiendfyre during the Battle of Hogwarts

Because there's no way Draco "the most physical thing I've done in my entire life is play Quidditch in the position in which being thin and light is a benefit" Malfoy was actually manhandling Goyle's dead weight anywhere, let alone up teetering piles of desks. Even before he'd spent two years being sick from stress and fear. Goyle's huge. Draco's... bred to do magic, not physical labour.

He had to be unconsciously levitating him, like wizard children use magic.

I always thought it was weird that there was no sign of people using accidental magic once they started going to school even under extreme stress.

#headcanon #actually #not headcanons #just plain old canon #draco malfoy #harry potter #accidental magic #splendidissimus worldbuilding

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sirensleepingsoundly · 1 year

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An idea that presented itself when I was in the shower after a far too long supernatural rewatch.

#supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #demon #summoning #accidental summoning #shower thoughts #hair on the wall #shower hair art #witchcraft #accidental magic #whoops! I summoned a demon #sirensleepingsoundly

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crybabyblackbear · 1 year

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question for witchblr:

I've been feeling the urge to create a rag/sock doll and put my hair in it. The hair is in a braid, something I cut off during the pandemic

. It has a lot of memories in it, and feelings

I've been fighting this urge because I don't know if I'll be unintentionally binding myself or something by putting my hair into a doll.

Thoughts? Suggestions?

#witchblr #witch community #doll making #hair #accidental magic #witchcraft #folk magic

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im-totally-not-an-alien-2 · 3 months

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Danny: Hey guys! Wanna see me pull a rabit out of a hat?

Tucker: I mean, sure I guess

Sam: No, that's lame and overdone. Get me a pet bat.

Danny: One bat coming up!

Danny: *pulls Batman halfway out of the tophat*

Danny:

Tucker:

Sam:

Batman: *scowling*

Tucker: *hastily whispering* Shove him back in! Shove him back in!

Danny: *shoves Batman back in*

Danny:

Tucker:

Sam:

Tucker: Are we going to get in trouble for this or...?

-Meanwhile, at the batcave-

Tim: *witnessing Batman get pulled halfway into a portal* WTF?!

#dpxdc #prompt #fanfiction prompts #danny is not allowed to use magic #he does it anyway and keeps accidentally psudo kidnaping heros and villians #he eventually starts acking them for hero/villian advice or help with homework

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missgryffin · 11 months

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Accidental Magic 🪄

A @jilymicrofics using all of the May word prompts. Also, a special shout-out and thank you to @redrobyn285 for sending me the prompt "accidental magic 🪄" which turned out to be a perfect title for this fic 😘 2.3k words. Rated T for language. Read below & on AO3.

A soft knock on the door to the prefects’ lounge echoes around the empty room.

“Yeah,” she grits, wand in her teeth as she pins the next month’s patrol calendar to the notice board.

Focused as she is on her task, she doesn’t even register the footsteps behind her until a hand appears from somewhere over her shoulder to hold the pesky falling corner of the parchment in place. Her skin bristles, throat closing with nerves. She’d recognize that hand—that wrist, that fucking rolled sleeve—anywhere.

Sucking in a deep breath through her nose, Lily focuses her attention on swiftly pinning the other corners of the calendar so she can take her wand back out of her mouth and say, “What are you doing here?”

(It is, after all, no longer Friday night but early Saturday morning, and the prefects’ lounge isn’t anywhere near Gryffindor Tower, where she’d last known him to be helping his mates set up for a common room party with a few crates of alcohol they’d mysteriously procured.)

She has no other choice but to turn around and face him, so she does—and finds her nose mere inches from his chest.

James quietly clears his throat and takes a small step back, hands stuffing into his pockets. “I, uh…wanted to talk to you.”

Foreboding rises in her chest, and before she can get out a smart-arse remark about him stalking her with that damned map he and his friends made, he adds with a little smirk, “About Charms.”

Uncomfortable heat pricks at her neck—he knows—but she feigns calm aloofness as she asks, “How’s Cressida?”

He shrugs—“Fine”—and Lily makes to skirt around him, but his hand darts from his pocket to close lightly around her wrist.

“Lily, c’mon.”

She meets his eyes, bronze in the blazing light of the hearth. After building a sort of quasi-friendship with him in sixth and now working with him as head students in seventh, she’s learned how to read James Potter. His expressions, his humor, his moods. And though she thinks he’s a little annoyed with her just then, he also seems mostly…amused?

“What?” She nods toward the grandfather clock nestled atop the room’s random wardrobe, painfully aware of how he’s still holding onto her. “It’s dawn in a few hours. Don’t you have a date you need to be rested for?”

Fleeting surprise—parted lips, raised brows—settles into a dimpling smirk. “Actually, no,” he quips, finally dropping her hand to cross his arms over his chest. “Seeing as my date’s being kept in the hospital wing this weekend, that’s been, ah, cancelled.”

Her mouth opens, closes, before saying lamely, “Oh.” After a beat of silence, she remembers her manners. “That’s…unfortunate.”

He pulls his lips under with a little hum.

She doesn’t particularly want to ask—she’d really rather leave this conversation and forget it ever happened—but she’s so uneasy that she can’t bear not knowing.

“If, um…if she’s fine, then…why is Pomfrey keeping her?”

James fixes her with a direct sort of look and then says, with the hint of a chuckle, “Because you inflated her to the size of Hagrid.”

Her stomach drops, nerves twisting uneasily through her body.

“You might’ve set a record,” he goes on, as casual as if he’s recounting the day’s homework as he settles on the edge of the arm of a nearby sofa. “’S far as I know, no one’s ever been ballooned that bad in class—”

“I didn’t—”

James ignores her, shrugging as he continues nonchalantly, “Her earwax is messed up, or something—didn’t deflate properly, I dunno, Pomfrey wants to watch her—”

Guilt roils her insides. The image of elegant, graceful Cressida Clearwater, a Ravenclaw in their year, inflating like a balloon with an inhuman shriek had haunted her since it happened earlier that afternoon. And what made it all the worse was the knowledge that, the moment before Cressida started to inflate, Lily had felt her inner turmoil boil over into a spurt of unintended magic.

“No one suspects, by the way. Even Amelia’s convinced she accidentally cast the Inflating Charm by mistake.” His brow wrinkles in thought. “Not sure how she thinks she did that, mind, the wand movement of a Bubble-head Charm’s totally different...”

Her jaw clenches, nails digging into her palms, as her mind races and wars over how to respond to all this.

“Anyway.” James’s voice softens as he says, “You know, you went so pale, I was actually more concerned about you dropping in a dead faint than I was about Cress floating toward the ceiling.”

An entirely uncouth snort bursts out of her nose, and she hastily slaps a hand over her mouth, stifling the inappropriate giggles threatening to bubble up.

James chuckles lightly with her before adding, “And then when you didn’t look like you were going to faint anymore, you...looked like you were trying not to cry.”

She doesn’t know what it is. The openness on his face, like he’s more curious than judgmental. The way he’s read her, seen her, so thoroughly. The fact that it’s nearly three o’clock in the morning. The shame that’s been eating at her since class, all the worse for how she’s spent the past week mourning the possibility of a relationship she’d only recently started to hope for. The bizarrely rebellious urge, after holding her feelings in for so long, to just lay them all bare.

For whatever reason, the truth spills out: “I didn’t mean to.”

His face betrays his surprise.

Unable to look at him, she watches her wringing hands as she explains, “I didn’t…actually cast anything. I just—Mary and I were next to her and Amelia, and I could hear their conversation, and I was so…” Jealous. Heartbroken. Angry. She shakes her head, refocusing herself. “I just...lost control, I guess. And the next thing I know, she was…” Her words trail off with a little wave, but he knows what happened next.

A slight furrow creases his brow. “You were so what?”

She blinks. “What?”

“You said, I was so, but then you didn’t say what you were.”

Why does he have to be so fucking detail oriented?

“Well, I—I lost control.”

He only arches a disbelieving brow and presses, “For no reason?”

Lily rolls her eyes, trying to maintain a cool facade despite being uncomfortably hot under the pin of his gaze, and asks, exasperated, “What does it matter? It was an accident.”

For the first time in this whole exchange, James looks genuinely irritated as he gazes distantly into the fire across the room, jaw tensing—and it twists her insides even more.

“I’m sorry,” she says, words stumbling over themselves. “I mean it, James. Obviously you were looking forward to tomorrow, and you have every right to be angry—”

“I’m not—” His jaw flexes with frustration, and he gives a little shake of his head. “I’m not angry that the date’s off.”

She frowns, not following. “Then—”

He pinches the bridge of his nose underneath his glasses, eyes closing with an exasperated sigh as he mutters, “I’m angry at myself.”

Lily waits, expecting him to elaborate, and when he doesn’t—when he just watches her with that melancholy bronze stare—she prompts, “I—I don’t—”

But James only slumps forward, elbows resting on his knees as his hands rake through his hair.

“James—”

“I wanted it to mean something.”

The words are spoken so quietly she barely hears them, yet they root her where she stands.

He’s staring at his folded hands, resolutely not looking up in her direction, and his voice sounds like it’s on the edge of cracking as he continues, “I thought...I could tell it was you, and I didn’t know if it was a dare, or a prank, or what, but I thought—I wanted—it to mean you…”

Her heart slams against her ribcage; every part of her body tenses, waiting.

He shakes his head, exhales, “Never mind,” as he pushes to his feet, and then strides past her.

She grabs his wrist with a reflexiveness that surprises herself, stalling him at her side. His skin there is smooth, warm, and the contact scatters butterflies up and down her limbs. She doesn’t even intend on telling him, doesn’t think through whether she should; her sole thought in that moment is simply, don’t leave, and the byproduct of that is her mouth spills, “Your date.”

His stillness tells her he’s listening.

“Cressida and Amelia, they were talking about…” She swallows, tongue thick now that she’s fully aware of what she’s confessing. “About your date. How excited she was that you said yes. Where she thought you’d go. How she planned on letting you…” She gulps again. “Erm…snog her. If you tried.”

It had been the straw that had, quite literally, broken something in her. After months of building a rapport with him that felt like it had been skewing more flirty than friendly; after weeks spent accepting the swirl of lust and attraction that the mere sight of him stirs in her body; after the initial blow of him accepting a date with someone else (news that caused her, humiliatingly, to knock over her mug and slosh coffee all over her lap at breakfast), and then the inescapable ache that followed as the publicity of that date grained traction…

Well. Hearing Cressida subtly brag about the, ahem, action she expected to follow her date with James—after days of the hope Lily had been tending getting pummeled to mush—had snapped the last thread of self-control Lily had.

She peeks up at him; he’s already gazing down at her, a thoughtful expression painting his face.

“And that…” he starts, eyes searching hers. “You said you were so…”

Tears well out of nowhere, just enough to sting. She blinks rapidly, looking anywhere but his face. Really, the irony of falling for him once he didn’t have feelings for her anymore is punishment enough—he wants her to admit to them, too? For what, pride? Ego? So he can report back to Cressida when he visits her in the hospital wing later?

His hand slides into hers. “Please,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. “I need to hear you say it.”

Her chest burns, heart jumping amidst the choking haze of all the shame, guilt, hurt, and confusion swirling there—and it makes her sound defensive, foolish, as she snaps thickly, “What, that I was jealous?”

It doesn’t make an ounce of sense, but everything in his face softens just then, and that sexy little half-smile she’s come to adore is now aimed at her.

“Yeah,” he answers, and she hears the hint of that signature James Potter smugness back in his voice; it makes the knife that he lodged in her heart when he said yes to Cressida twist for what feels like the thousandth time.

“Why?” Her words taste bitter. “What difference does it make?”

“Wh—” He scoffs, disbelieving, and she yanks her hand out of his. “Lily—”

“It’s hard enough,” she chokes out, the sight of him blurring through her welling tears, “to watch you go out with her and pretend like it doesn’t bother me, we really don’t need to talk about it—”

James cuts her off—“No, we do”—and recaptures her hand, this time threading their fingers together. She looks at them, entwined like they belong to fit this way, and isn’t sure she’s ever felt her skin ache for someone like this.

“I thought,” he says gently, “that you just wanted to…y’know. Be friends. I mean, I wondered, if you fancied me back, but…”

Lily’s heart flips at that phrase—fancied me back—and she stares, hanging on his every word with bated breath.

A blush dusts his cheeks as he gives a little shake of his head. “It just seemed like you…only wanted to be friends, so…”

She swallows hard. “I...thought you only wanted to be friends.”

He peers down at her, gaze soft. “No,” he whispers, eyes lowering meaningfully to her mouth.

Her head swirls, dizzy, giddy, from the turn this moment’s taken. She drifts closer, then tucks her wand into the back pocket of her jeans so she can slide her free hand up his chest, deliciously solid under the soft flannel he’s wearing over a thin Montrose Magpies t-shirt. His forefinger hooks gently under her chin, tilting her face toward his. This close, she can see the flecks of gold in his eyes. Wordlessly, she curls her fingers into a fist of fabric at his chest to anchor herself, and then she pushes up onto her tiptoes and brushes her lips over his.

In her weeks of coming to terms with having feelings for him, Lily had daydreamed aplenty about kissing James: what it would be like, the different scenarios in which it could happen. The real thing is unlike every expectation.

He’s not showy, not putting on a grand gesture, not leading with the commanding authority she’s grown used to seeing him wield on the Quidditch pitch and in the corridors. Instead, he’s tender. Almost…shy. He holds her face with the delicacy of handling rare porcelain, and the press of his lips back against hers is so soft that the faint scratch of his evening shadow tickles instead of burns. She smiles against his mouth, and James rests his forehead on hers, hands letting go from where they hold onto her only to wrap her in a hug around her waist.

Her heart swells.

“Do you feel this?” he asks, breathless.

She knows instantly what he means: there’s a charge between them, something fluttering hotly under her skin, like a current that swept them up the moment they waded just close enough. If she had her wand in her hand just then, she wouldn’t be surprised to find it glowing.

“Yeah,” she whispers back, arms looping tightly around his neck. “I feel it, too.”

#missgryffin writes #accidental magic #jily #jple #jily fanfiction #jily microfic

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