Auror Harry - Blog Posts

Auror Harry and Healer Draco fics

✨ The Ordeal of Being Known / 146k / When Auror Potter is anonymously cursed with silence by being forced to hide his own voice inside his mind, there's unfortunately only one person in the country with the qualifications to fix it: Certified and Licensed Healer Legilimens, Draco Malfoy, specialist in Mind Curses and Afflictions. It's obviously a terrible idea, a disaster waiting to happen, but Draco's never been able to back down from a challenge... especially from Potter.

Features fuzzy cartoon slippers, devious house elves, 90s music, and lots—LOTS—of memories. Ron is annoyingly hot, Hermione sees right through you, Harry is a powerful idiot, and Draco is a reclusive masochist that would buy an entire city if it would make a kid happy. (And Pansy is "5'2, I wanna dance with you, and I'm sophisticated fun.")

✨ A Wolfs Song / 52k / At 30, Draco Malfoy had worked hard to become a respectable citizen. He’d gotten his life together, however small it may be, and Draco was happy with its mundanity.

Except, that is, on Tuesdays.

On Tuesdays, Harry Potter visited his shop.

What begins as a budding friendship between an Auror and his healer turns into so much more after an attack changes the course of Harry’s life.

✨ Five Weddings and a Potions Accident / 19k / In which Harry thinks he’s a playboy, everyone else knows better, and Hermione will kill Seamus if Ron tries to collect on that bet.

✨ freely, as men strive for right / 17k / How can Harry love a man like Draco Malfoy?

If only Draco would let him count the ways.

(Sometimes, a happily-ever-after takes a bit longer than you expect.)

✨ The Four Doors / 48k / It’s been four months since Harry lost his memory. Four months of dead ends and no answers. With time running out until his memories are gone for good, Harry agrees to a course of Legilimency therapy with a renowned specialist: Mind Healer Draco Malfoy.

✨ And Back Again (Where You Belong) / 15k / He thought back on their previous handshakes, and smiled faintly at the fact they always seemed to mean so much more to him than they did to Potter.

✨ Tell Me the End at the Beginning / 36k / St Mungo’s is the last place anyone wants to spend the festive season. Harry finds himself there anyway.

Or: Harry's an Auror suspended from duty, Malfoy's wearing the hell out of three-piece suits, Hermione is entirely over everything, and Kreacher just wants to be left alone to decorate for Christmas.

A 25 Days of Draco and Harry story.

✨ If Memory Serves / 17k / What do you do when your schoolboy nemesis, who conveniently (or not) has no memory of the last two and a half decades of his life, is handed into your care?

You fall in love with him, of course.

✨ the space between (what you want and what you need) / 13k / As a specialist Healer in dark magic, Draco has had his fair share of difficult cases and awkward patients. Still, nothing has prepared him for a curse-paralysed Harry Potter.

✨ A Half Life, A Cursed Life / 48k / Harry Potter has decided to die. Draco Malfoy may be the only one who has noticed.

My submission for the @tomarrybigbang of 2024. Thank you to all the mods that helped organize this fest 💕

Explicit, 4.4k, Chapter 1

Summary:

Harry Potter is done.

He's been in the past for months now, working undercover as a poorly paid waiter in The Lounge: Britain's magical elite's favorite restaurant. He's more than ready to wrap things up, get the fuck out of 1953 and hug his godson again.

Enter, Tom Riddle: Dark Lord in The Making and Arsehole Extraordinaire. (And owner of The Most Fuckable Mouth Harry's seen since his days of shameless debauchery he was young.)

Impulse control has never been a strong suit of his, and this mission is proving to be the most difficult one yet.

My parter for this fest was the talented @00queasy00, who did this beautiful art!

Wanted to share this Golden trio fluff:

Who was Harry Potter anyways? The Chosen One? The Boy-who-lived? The Saviour and Golden Boy of the Wizarding World?

Did the press actually got it right when they wrote pieces about him? Could they know what kind of person he was by amounting together the major events on his life?

Could he?

Did Hermione and Ron knew who his best friend was? During those nights filled with dread when the dead became living and the living bled to death, did they know?

When they took his hand and slept right there besides him, whispering sweet nothings until he fell asleep again—could they describe who he was with the same certainty one would talk about the lush and green hills in Scotland?

Mione watched him with that look of hers; one of unwavering faith. Her eyes softening as she lulled him to sleep.

The moonlight filtered through the tiny gap between the curtains back in his room in Grimmauld Place, illuminating the seven freckles scattered in her nose and cheeks. A hundred years could pass and he’d still be able to trace those freckles to memory, like one traces the starts and constellations in the nightsky. She’d stay there for hours, stroking his hair and drawing silly patterns in his skin. Like a mother would. Soft fingertips and soothing lullabies.

With the tenderness of a mother, the devotion of a lover and the undying loyalty of a friend.

In those moments he could be sure of one thing: Hermione Granger knew exactly who Harry Potter was: His best friend, the person looking back at her with grief and open adoration.

And Ron. Ron held him while Mione grounded him and brought him back to Earth. Soft breath tickling his neck. He was too tall for the bed, so most times his feet stayed dangling from the edge.

Ron was home, Ron was family.

Ron was the first person to ever say I love you, chubby cheeks bouncing as he smiled. Honest in his love like only kids are.

There wasn’t much of that Ron in the 6’2 ft tall man that layed besides him. Except maybe his eyes. They were blue, blueblueblue, round and big and completely sincere. Every emotion Ron felt reflecting back on them.

Violent but oh so soft. Harry had never seen the ocean, but he reckoned that’s how it looked like.

His presence was enough to make the world stop spinning, so he stayed with them: A hand in his arm or a leg tangled between Mione’s.

Always touching.

His silence saying more than a million words could.

I’m not going anywhere Harry. Not today, not tomorrow. Not ever again.

But so they knew? Did they even care?

You’re every Harry love, the ones you like and the ones you don’t

Harry Potter was the guy that passed the Auror official test in record time. The one that spent a year hiding the clues of his slow descent into insanity under red leather robes and tightly wrapped bandages.

Harry Potter was the man who stayed alone in New Year’s Eve changing napies and falling asleep besides his godson as he burnt in fever.

It was the five year old boy that one day came home from school with a carefully written card he’d dedicated to his aunt on Mother’s Day.

It was the boy who loved to fly. That felt more free in the air than any place on Earth. The one that enjoyed the breeze against his hair and the feeling of wood under his fingers.

It was the man that spent half a year in muggle parties with his best friend’s sister fucking his way through London. High with the thrill of anonymity and pissed out of his mind.

The man more scared of his own shadows than he was of any threat out there.

The one that stood in front of Voldemort when he was 17 and killed him like he was born to do so.

Harry Potter was the man scared of dark and cramped spaces. The man that fell apart in his best friends’ arms and sobbed for hours like he couldn’t do with anyone else.

It was the little boy who looked just like his father, that had his mother’s eyes.

It was the man who loved with every fiber of his being, that loved and loved like it was a race. That burned and consumed and desperately wanted to be loved back. It was the man that remembered Molly’s favorite way of taking her tea, that visited Goerge on the weekends at the shop—the one that discussed muggle phones with Arthur. It was the man Andy could always remember his daughter with.

Harry Potter was the boy that walked to his death on a cool May evening because he loved. Because he pictured a future where his friends could laugh and breath freely again, even if he wasn’t a part of it.

And so Hermione stroked his hair, and Ron hid his face in the crook of his neck, and so they’d remind him.

I love all of them Harry, each and one of them

You’ve carried enough burdens mate, leave some of them to us alright? We’ll carry them too

Harry Potter was Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley’s best friend. And sometimes, that was enough.