Drarry Oneshots (𝑪𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒆)

Dragontail Suppressants and Schmetterling Cream

Top!Harry

Bottom!Draco

Author: SpaceAceAmeko ( on ao3 )

beware this has 44,581 words...or keepon going 🤭
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Harry could call it intuition; he could call it experience, habit. He could even call it pattern. And even though the war is ended and bygones are bygones, habits are hard to break. So when Draco started sneaking off and around during off times of the night and day for no real foreseeable reason Harry could could up with, he fell back into his own ways.

He'd even enlisted the help of Ron and Hermione, for which the latter complained and talked their ears off as she brewed the polyjuice potions.

"Honestly Harry," She says, irritation in her voice. "You're not little kids anymore, surely you don't still think he's plotting against you or something?"

Harry pouts all the way, arms crossed and petulant.

"He's up to something, 'Mione. I just know it."

Hermione sets him with the most unimpressed look as she pours a vial of that disgusting juice for him.

"Don't come crying to me then, when it blows up in your face." She warns, handing it over. "It should last an hour or so."

Harry gratefully takes it and downs it, groaning through the change.

Sneaking into the new revamped Slytherin dorms was actually a lot easier than he had thought it would be. Mostly because he looked Slytherin and he had learned of the passcode years ago when he and Ron polyjuiced into Crabb and Goyle. From there, though, he had to guess which way he needed to go while still looking the every bit the pompous pureblood Blaise Zabini that belonged there.

Harry followed the faint smell he knows was Draco Malfoy— something gentle, just a tad sweet. Like freshly laundered sheets. If he had any kind of scent at all, he means. For a beta, he didn't have any kind of scent on him. Not that betas came with much of a scent to begin with, but Malfoy was particularly always had a freshly laundered scent clinging to him.

"Blaise? Is that you?" Draco asks, though he looks up and straight at Harry, and squints his eyes. "Can you help me find my glasses? I don't remember where I put the blasted things." He huffs in annoyance. "Why must everything be so dark and droll in here? Why does my case have to be black? Why couldn't they make it easily seen, like a neon green?"

"Glasses...?" Harry asks. He's never seen Draco with glasses. Why should he be wearing them anyway?

"Yes, yes, Blaise. Glasses. I'll hear about how you think these potions are gonna make me permanently blind later, but for now help me find the bloody things." Draco is shoving his face so close to things. Harry looks around and finds a pair innocently sitting on a stack of books near him. He picks them up and goes over to Draco.

"Here," he says, and unthinkingly slides them onto Draco's face. Draco stops, brow furrowing at such intimacy and Harry nearly freezes at thinking he's done the wrong thing. But Draco gives an eyebrow raise and a helpless grin.

"Not even a minute alone and you flirt with me, Blaise? Be careful, I think your desperation is showing." Draco rolls his eyes and pushes the glasses up on his nose more.

They suit him. They're black rimmed, squared, but not too huge. But the lense is thick, thicker than even Harry had.

"Now come on, hurry up. Don't have all day." Draco waves his hand and opens a potions book and starts to gather ingredients, strewn all around a set of desks on one side of the spacious room.