tough_fluff



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  1. Public Bookmark *

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    “This is where you’ve been living?” Potter asked quietly.

    And as if it were a paid actor, a rat appeared from one side of Draco’s living room, paused in the middle of the floor to look up at them, then disappeared through a hole in the opposite wall.

    “Why?” Potter turned to him with wide eyes.

    Draco shrugged. “Told you my family didn’t want me to join the Aurors. And it’s not that bad, I promise.”

    On cue, the rat reappeared from the hole in the wall, and sprinted in the direction of Draco’s tiny bathroom.

    “Right!” Weasley said loudly. “Well! That’s that decided then. I think you’re coming to live with us, mate.”

    And that was how Draco ended up living at number twelve Grimmuald Place.

    -

    Draco and Harry were friends. That's all they were, and Draco needed to learn to be grateful for that fact, no matter how much he wanted to reach out and touch Harry at every opportunity.

    Friends. It would have to be enough.

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    17 Jun 2026

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    After one stupid decision, the world gets cursed to forget ever knowing who Harry Potter was.

    Three years later, Draco Malfoy meets a mysterious, rude, very attractive stranger, and cannot help but become obsessed.

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    28 May 2026

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    “Wow,” Will breathes out, just on this edge of teasing. “You sound very confident about this.”

    “Well,” Mike shrugs, swallowing hard in a desperate attempt to soothe his very, very dry mouth, “I don’t know why someone wouldn’t be interested in you.”

    “Oh?” Will says, and it’s definitely teasing now, enough for Mike to feel himself turning warm, all down his neck and to the tips of his own – sadly unpatterned – socks. “Someone?”

    “Yeah.” Mike nods. Oh, god. This is fine. “In a very arbitrary sense of the word. Just– people. Someone.”

    Mike is approximately ninety-eight percent sure that his feelings are requited. That last two percent, however, has really been throwing him for a loop.

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    04 May 2026

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    Draco Lucius Malfoy had imagined a great many futures for himself after the war.

    For years, he had imagined Azkaban. A cell. A lifetime spent paying for choices he had made too young and too afraid to fully understand.

    He had imagined exile. Being cast out of wizarding society entirely. Stripped of his wand. Left to exist, half-alive, in the Muggle world like a punishment that never quite ended.

    He had never, not once, imagined that he might spend the final months of the year, the very same year the Dark Lord was killed... smoking weed with Harry Potter.

    Regularly.

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    02 Apr 2026

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    “Just saying, if you’re taking another hit, you should share it with me,” Mike says, and Will slowly tilts his head, drinking in every word. “It just makes sense. Like, mathematically.”

    Will’s reddened eyes narrow, bewildered. “Mathematically?”

    “If there’s two hits left, we’d each only get one,” Mike explains. “But if we shotgunned, we’d both get two.” God, this is the best idea he’s had in ages. He should’ve stolen Will’s weed, like, months ago. “That’s like, bang for your buck. This is simple math, Will Byers. Keep up.”

    In which it’s well past midnight in New York, Will can’t sleep, and Mike feels like they barely know each other anymore.

    So, they get a little high. Mike is very normal about all of it.

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    11 Feb 2026