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shadyelizabeth · 2 years

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8.12. SKETCHING

This year’s graduation ceremony had been a dichotomous event, heavy with sorrow and grief for the fallen faculty and students while also filled with the light and airy promise of a peaceful future.

Graduation had been extended, needing extra time for the first-hour memorial and the eighth years who were graduating alongside the seventh. After all the tears had been shed and the names and recognitions called out, the eighth years lined up in rows of three at the doors of the Great Hall first followed by the seventh years, and they all began their walk down to the edge of the lake for the last time.

As soon as all of the students had descended the steps of the castle, sky bright blue and wide in front of them, the neat rows began to dissipate. Friends from different houses began to move around, slinging arms over shoulders and making plans for the summer.

Wedged between Ron and Hermione, Hermione gently bumped Harry with her shoulder and asked, “I know you said you were still thinking it over, but have you given any more thought to spending the summer with Ron and me?”

“We were gonna head straight to Romania, but mum wanted us to come home for a week or two for some reason or another. Even if you don’t wanna travel with us, you could come and stay until we leave.”

Harry ran his fingers through his hair. He’d been purposely putting off this conversation. A soft breeze billowed his open robes around him. “I have thought about it, but I think–”

Somebody stumbled into him from behind, throwing him momentarily off balance, but before he could see who it was, they were making their way back through the crowd without so much as an apology.

“Okay,” he said, pulling his robe back up on his shoulder, one side suddenly heavier than before. “What the–”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small leatherbound journal and immediately knew what it was.

For as long as he could remember, Malfoy had kept a journal on him almost always. He couldn’t recount the times he’d felt the heavy gaze of his eyes on him and would turn to find him scribbling away in it during class, in the Great Hall, and sometimes in the courtyard.

He’d always imagined that Malfoy was busy crafting specific spells just to make Harry miserable, waiting for the right moment to use them, but when nothing happened, he thought maybe Malfoy was messing with his head, trying to psyche him out. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t tried to get his hands on it more than once, to no avail. He wasn’t sure if the fact that it had ended up in his pocket on the last day of school felt incredibly suspicious or serendipitous. He didn’t know whether to open it or confringo it into oblivion.

“What’s that?” Ron asked.

The one item that has haunted me for the past eight years of our lives was on the tip of his tongue, but Hermione answered for him.

“That’s Draco’s.”

“Since when are you on a first name basis with Malfoy?”

“Not the point, Ron. Harry, how–”

“I guess whoever bumped into me put it there.” Though he’d only caught a glimpse of the back of the person’s head, he was sure it hadn’t been Draco.

“Well, let’s have a look, yeah?” Ron said.

“Maybe we should let Harry look at it alone, when he’s ready.”

“When he’s ready? Cuz what? D’ya think it’s Malfoy’s diary? Some love letter to Harry?”

When neither of them answered, he imagined it was for different reasons. The book didn’t feel like it contained any magical energy, but Harry could admit that Malfoy’s proficiency with spellwork was on par with Hermione’s, making it very possible that he concealed something nefarious within its pages. Because that would make more sense than what Ron has suggested, but Hermione’s silence paired with her being on a first name basis with Draco made him think that maybe she knew something he didn’t.

“Oh, come off it, you two!” Ron’s head swiveled back and forth between them. “You can’t be–”

“A quick look won’t hurt, right?” Harry said, needing an answer himself. If things went wrong, at least Hermione would be there to patch him up.

Untying the string that held the little book closed, he opened to a random page and was met with a charcoal sketch of his face.

Harry recalled the memory instantly. It had been a fleeting moment during Hagrid’s class in their third year. Harry’s arm was outstretched waiting for Buckbeak to lower his head. Draco had caught the smile the moment Harry felt the hippogriff’s feathers against his hand, open robes, crooked tie, and all. There was a smaller, quicker sketch in the corner of his return, clothes and hair windswept and a little red added to his cheeks.

He flipped to the front and found much of the same–drawings of himself throughout their first year–but these were rougher, clearly from a less practiced hand. However, even though the lines weren’t as sharp and the shapes a bit more ambiguous, it was clear the drawings were of Harry, so easily defined by his trademark circular glasses and lightning bolt scar.

Fanning quickly through the pages, the drawings become more and more detailed, less caricature and more lifelike.

A random page showed different variations of him studying: tongue stuck out to the side in deep concentration with a book open in front of him; eyebrows drawn together in a prominent V with a quill in his hand; pacing, robes shed and tie loosened, shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows; and one where he was sitting sideways in a chair, legs draped over one leg and head draped over the other, wand in hand, floating a feather in front of him.

Another page showed him in his Quidditch robes, broom in hand, walking onto the Quidditch pitch, the shadows of his teammates behind him.

Another was of the three of them sitting around a table laughing at something that must’ve been hysterical. Harry’s head was thrown back, a wide grin spread across his mouth. Ron’s hands were folded across his stomach, and Hermione’s hand was touching the skin under her eye like she was wiping a tear away.

“What the–”

As if awakened from a stupor, Harry immediately snapped the journal closed. There were years worth of memories in here, some he didn’t even remember himself, but Malfoy–Draco–had captured so many of them so reverently.

Harry wasn’t sure how to process this information. Out of everything he could have possibly imagined, this didn’t even register. Draco had antagonized him from day one, but this–this was a heartfelt confession. This was reality rewriting itself. This was cracking Harry wide open.

His eyes scanned the area for Malfoy’s white-blonde hair but came up empty.

Fingers rested gently on his shoulder. Hermione was looking at him with concern written all over her face.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah.” His voice cracked, the answer coming out less confident than he wanted. Clearing his throat, he said, “Why wouldn’t I be? I just–I’ll catch up with you guys later, okay? I’ve just–I’ve gotta–” but he didn’t finish what he was saying, knowing every second wasted meant Malfoy would get further and further away.

He pushed through the wave of students, throwing apologies over his shoulder to anyone he may have bumped into or jostled as he made his way back toward the castle. He held tightly to the journal, not wanting to risk dropping it lest it slow him down or worse. Scanning left and right, he kept his eyes peeled and his ears open, but he reached the back of the crowd, and his search had come up empty. Draco was gone, or maybe he’d never been there to begin with. Either way, Harry was left with more questions than ever.

>>>>>>>

Harry pulled open the coffee shop door, the grinding beans and smell of espresso a welcome start to his morning. Yesterday had been an excruciatingly long day, and despite having slept for almost a full six hours, when he woke this morning, he couldn’t shake the grogginess from his bones.

He joined the queue behind two other people, taking the quiet moment to assess his body’s aches. There was tension in his left shoulder blade. His neck was stiff, and his right elbow clicked anytime he moved it. He also had some discomfort in his lower back. At the moment, it was nothing too bad, but if the soreness didn’t relieve itself with some stretching, he might have to make a chiropractic appointment.

Stepping up to the counter, he ordered a black coffee with three shots of espresso, knowing he’d need the extra caffeine to get through the day, and a cherry scone.

“That’ll be £8.43.”

He reached into his coat pocket but didn’t feel his wallet. He patted down his other pockets, but it wasn’t there.

“Oh, uh. I must’ve left it at home or in my car. I’ll–”

“If it’s okay,” a vaguely familiar voice came from behind him, “I’ll add on my order and pay for his as well.”

“You don’t have to do that,” he said, turning to address whoever had spoken and was met with a pair of silver eyes he hadn’t seen in half a decade. His breath caught in his throat. “Draco.”

“Hello, Harry.” He offered a small smile before stepping up next to him and placing his order.

Harry couldn’t have pulled his eyes away if he’d wanted to. When the person who consumed most of your waking thoughts appeared in front of–or behind–you after five years like a conjured apparition, you didn’t look away.

Harry was trying to reconcile the Draco in front of him with the Draco in his mind. In front of him stood a sheepish bloke, hair shorn short on the sides and long on the top. He still dressed impeccably, adorned in a long overcoat that probably cost at least a month’s worth of Harry’s salary, but his signature sneer had been replaced with a tentative smile.

They stepped to the side, a comfortable distance between them, while their drinks were being prepared. Harry had so many things he wanted to say; he’d imagined this conversation a million times over, but he wasn’t going to bombard him.

“Thank you for paying. I can pay you back–”

“No.” He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay.” He fiddled with the him of his coat. “Umm, how have you been?”

“All things considered, I’ve been well, thank you. And you?”

“Things have been good. I just–” He stopped. It wasn’t going to take much longer for their order to be ready, and if he didn’t say something now, who knew when or if he’d get the chance to do so again.

Draco’s perfect eyebrows shot up, eyes bright. “You just?”

“I still have your journal.”

“Oh.” He glanced away. Pink started to paint itself high across his cheeks.

Harry took a step closer. “All those years . . . I–I never knew. You never said anything–”

“What was I supposed to say, Harry?” He turned his gaze back on him. “If I had walked right up to you and said, ‘I know I may act as if I hate you, but truthfully, I quite fancy you’, or ‘I think you’re beautiful’, what would you have done?”

“I don’t know.”

His eyes softened. “You do. You would have hexed me, and I wouldn’t have tried to stop you.”

“Maybe,” he said, “but, I mean, we–”

“Order for Malfoy!”

Draco sighed and said, “Let me grab that.”

Harry was tempted to follow him, to make sure he didn’t take their drinks and his scone and walk right out the door, but after tipping the barista, he came back and handed him his order.

“Look, Harry, we both know I wasn’t the most emotionally adjusted teen. That journal was the only safe space for me to explore my feelings, and when I gave it to you, it was in an attempt to close a door, not open one.”

“Oh.” His shoulders sagged. “Umm, so, does that mean–I mean, I know it’s been five years, but are you saying there’s no chance we could . . . ?” He trailed off, hoping Draco could fill in the rest.

“Well, I didn’t say that. Are you saying you would . . . ?”

“Yes!” In a different situation, the fervor behind that one word might have been laughable, but he didn’t care. “I’ve looked at your journal so often over the years, I have every page memorized. I’ve traced my fingers over the sketches so many times, I had to enchant them not to smudge. Though art has never been my forte, I could probably recreate some of them myself.”

Gently placing his hand on Draco’s arm, Harry made sure to look him square in the eyes. “There are very few things in my life I have cherished as much as I have that little leatherbound book and the reverence that went into creating it, and I just . . . can’t let you walk out of here without asking if we can start over. Can we forget everything that happened before and just see where this goes?”

AUGUST MASTERPOST

#september 2022 #august writing prompts #august/september writing challenge #word prompt: sketching #harry potter #draco malfoy #drarry #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #drarry fanfiction #drarry fanfic #draco x harry #harry x draco

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shadyelizabeth · 2 years

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8.11. POPSICLE (ICE LOLLY)

This past week had been brutal. Harry was assigned a hellish case early Sunday morning, reports of a rogue wizard kidnapping children, magical and Muggle alike. Action had to be quickly taken before any casualties were reported. He arrived at the Ministry within a half hour of getting the call, sleep still crusting his eyelids. A portkey was ready to take him and his partner, Rickards, to the far corners of northern Leeds.

Thankfully, he and Rickards were able to get a solid handle on the case within twenty-four hours of arriving. Their perpetrator had either gotten sloppy or over-confident in their spellcasting and had left their magical calling card. By the end of the week, they’d tracked him down, rescued the children, and safely reunited each and everyone with their families.

When he’d returned to London late Friday evening, the first thing he’d done was ring his boyfriend to see if he wanted to meet him for dessert. He liked to indulge himself in a sweet treat after a job well done and some sweet loving any time he spent more than a couple of days away from Draco.

They’d agreed to meet at Popbar near King’s Cross at 8PM.

Harry had gotten caught up at the Ministry finishing some last-minute paperwork before heading home to take a shower, so he was running a few minutes late. Draco’s sweet tooth was more demanding than his own, so Harry expected he’d order without him. What he hadn’t expected stopped him dead in his tracks as he rounded the corner; his breath caught in his chest.

Draco sat out front at one of the restaurant’s plastic tables, casually leaning back in one of the chairs. The fluorescent lights illuminated half of his body while the other half was cast in shadow from the fading sunlight. His hair was thrown up in a messy bun; a few loose strands were falling around his face. The top two buttons of his cornflower blue jersey were undone, and he was completely engrossed with something on his mobile. Absentmindedly, his tongue darted out and slowly licked the ice lolly in his other hand from base to tip. Harry felt himself twitch in his boxers.

“Holy shit.”

Kicking out his leg to adjust himself, he continued forward. His eyes never left his boyfriend’s mouth.

When he got to the table, he pulled out the chair closest to Draco and quickly sat. Draco’s eyes flicked up at him. His rouged red lips came off the lolly with an audible smack.

“Hello, love.” His tongue swirled around the dessert’s tip, lapping up some of the melting droplets.

Instead of offering his own greeting, Harry moved his chair as close as he could to Draco’s, slotting their legs together. He leaned in and slid a hand up the back of his neck, his fingers curling into the hair at the nape, and cradled his head. Growling low into his boyfriend’s ear, he said, “Did you know I was watching?”

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” he said, sticking the entirety of the lolly in his mouth and slowly pulling it out with hollowed cheeks.

“Draco.” He gritted out between his teeth. His fingers tightened in his hair, gently tugging his head backward. The tightness in his shorts was beginning to become uncomfortable.

Harry’s eyes followed Draco’s tongue as he licked another slow stripe from the bottom to the top before sticking more than half of the ice lolly in his mouth, pulling it out with a loud slurp, triggering something feral in Harry.

“Yes?” His long lashes fluttered, silver eyes bright with mischief.

“That was obscene. I–I don’t think I can get up from my seat right now.”

“Hmm.” Draco leaned forward. “Seems like a personal problem.” His breath was a muddling mix of hot and cold. He scraped his teeth along the sensitive skin below Harry’s ear, sending shivers down his spine. He asked, “Whatever shall you do?”

Harry didn’t have to see his face to know he was smirking, and given the situation, that just wouldn’t do.

With his free hand, he took the lolly from Draco and dropped it on the pavement. “Oops,” he said, not looking regretful at all.

“Hey!”

“Don’t worry.” Taking Draco’s hand, he not so gently pulled him from his seat, eyes scanning the alley behind the shop for movement. “I know just how to make it up to you.”

The alley was sparsely illuminated by a dingy flickering light above the shop’s back door and smelled of days-old garbage. Besides the dumpster, there was no coverage. Anyone who followed them or opened the back door would see everything that was happening but Harry didn’t care. For the moment, it would have to work.

One hand pushed and pinned Draco’s hips against the brick wall. The other tilted his neck to the side, giving his mouth easier access to the long column of creamy skin. Harry licked a line up his neck, from his collarbone to his jaw, and then sank his teeth in, lips sucking a bruise into his skin.

“Ah!”

“I can’t believe–” but he didn’t finish. The friction of his shifting hips against Draco’s thigh tore the rest of the words from his mouth.

Draco’s hands went to Harry’s waist, pulling him in by the belt loops. His fingers grappled for Harry’s arse, squeezing as he lined their cocks up and ground them together. Draco moaned. Harry sank his teeth in deeper.

Their mouths met, and Harry’s only thoughts were of the pressure of his lover’s mouth, the lingering sweetness on his lips, and the satisfying sweep of Draco’s tongue as it swept inside, sending surges of desire straight to his cock.

He wanted more.

Wrenching his mouth away, he growled, “Knees.”

Draco’s hands started making quick work of his shorts, but he stayed upright.

“And to think”–his eyes sparkled in the low light, bright with lust and challenge–“I was just trying to enjoy a delicious ice lolly, and then you”–his hand ducked into Harry’s boxers and squeezed–“had to go and make a naughty spectacle of things.”

Harry’s mind went blank, singular focus on the hand shuttling up and down his aching prick. Draco’s thumb pressed into his slit–“Fuck!” slipping from his lips without his express permission–gathering the moisture leaking from the tip. But it still wasn’t enough.

Closing his fingers around Draco’s bun, Harry ground out, “I said ‘Knees’.”

The crook of Draco’s mouth was cruel. His grip loosened, fingers tickling a featherlight trail up and down his shaft. Harry groaned. “I don’t think you’re in any position to be making demands right now.”

Conceding, Harry’s head dropped forward onto his shoulder, yearning. “Dracooo. Pleeease.”

“That’s more like it.”

Draco dropped a gentle kiss on his forehead. The tenderness was incongruent with the way he spun them around, pressed Harry’s back up against the wall, and yanked his shorts down as he slid to his knees.

Looking up through long lashes, hand stroking with purpose now–“Godric, yesss!”–he said, “If we had longer, I’d make you properly beg.”

“All because I ruined your dessert?” Harry was surprised he was able to make let alone voice coherent thoughts.

“Yes.” He pressed his tongue flat against his slit and Harry saw stars. “Though, I also enjoy it when you’re desperate for me.” He nipped at the soft skin on the inside of his thigh and then swallowed his cock whole.

The sound Harry made was inhuman. His eyes rolled closed and his hands scrambled for something to hold onto, nails digging into the brick behind him.

Draco’s mouth was hot and wet and working a mad kind of magic. All the teasing had gotten Harry so close to the edge; his balls tingled with the need for release. It would take nearly nothing to push him over, but he needed something to get him there.

When he opened his eyes, he came undone. The sight of Draco’s hollowed cheeks, softly painted pink in the low light, mixed with the platinum strands that had fallen loose from his bun, his lust-filled eyes, and the feel of him swallowing his dick was all too much. Wrecked, he came, a husky moan flying free.

Draco took his whole load, lapping up every last drop. His mouth released Harry with a wet pop, lips red and swollen and glistening, looking every bit like he just gave dirty head in a dark alley. He landed one more lick for prosperity.

Pushing his hair back off his face, between heavy breaths, Harry said, “Remind me to interrupt dessert more often.”

Draco planted a kiss at the juncture of his hips before he stood, a satisfied smile on his face. His shorts were tented, and Harry was preparing to happily return the favor. He just need a few more moments to catch his breath, but Draco instead said, “Now that that’s taken care of, you”–he poked him in the chest–“owe me another ice lolly.”

Laughing, Harry started to pull up his trousers and said, “After that, I’ll buy you all the ice lollies you want.”

AUGUST MASTERPOST

#september 2022 #august writing prompts #august writing challenge #(guess it's september's now)#word prompt: popsicle #harry potter #draco malfoy #drarry #drarry fanfiction #drarry fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #this is smutty?#smut adjacent #not my area of expertise #but i did it anyway

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shadyelizabeth · 2 years

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8.10. COCONUT

From a young age, Harry had known he wanted to have kids. Having not been raised by his own parents and only having glimpses of what good parenting looked like, the overall idea was kind of daunting to him, but he wanted it nonetheless. He wanted to build a family of his own.

What that looked like for him changed over the years. At first, he thought he and Ginny would have a few red-headed kids or maybe a little black-haired baby if his genetics were strong enough. But after the war, he and Ginny started to drift apart. She was never the same after Fred died, and Harry couldn’t be what she needed.

Not in any rush to find another relationship, he let himself be consumed by work but made time for the occasional date or two. However, it quickly became clear that dating as an adult was going to be a bit more complicated than he’d anticipated.

Harry had always had fans–“Potterheads”, as they so lovingly called themselves–but, while in school, his interactions with them had been filtered through the mail. Now, with virtually unfettered access, when going on dates, he was unsure whether people were going out with him because of genuine interest or because he was Harry Potter.

For a while, he was resigned to being (forever) alone.

Until Neville turned him onto a new dating app just for wizards called Thirdstory which allowed the user as much or as little anonymity as they wanted. Not wanting to be recognized by his name or his face, he uploaded a picture of his abs (not that he was desperate or anything), set his username to heartofalion7, and waited to see what happened.

The first few inquiries were, as expected, complimenting him on his physique and asking to see more, but Harry wasn’t looking for a hookup. So when he got a message from asnakeinthegarden saying, “Vanity is unbecoming,” he snorted. With a comment attached to a username like that, Harry knew whoever was behind the profile was probably a Slytherin, and he was immediately intrigued.

Once they started talking, they didn’t stop. Over the next few weeks, they talked for several hours a day, both of them careful not to give too much away, but still able to have meaningful and deep conversations about their failures and their fears, their hopes, and their dreams. Right before they decided to meet in person, Harry admitted he’d signed up for the app because he was looking for a genuine connection, someone he could see himself having a future with, to which they’d responded: “I find it utterly fascinating that you thought the best way to attract a life partner was by showing the world your nipples.”

If Harry hadn’t been sure beforehand, he knew then that he was smitten.

They agreed to meet at a little café near the River Thames. Harry had gone back and forth with himself about whether to arrive early–he didn’t want to seem too eager, even though he was–or to arrive on time as he didn’t want to risk being late. He’d eventually settled on early, ordering an English breakfast tea for himself and Earl Grey for his garden snake as he settled in to wait for his arrival.

The first thing he saw was white-blonde hair, and while a very small part of his mind had thought Draco, he quickly dismissed the idea because what were the odds? But as the person moved closer and Harry’s eyes were able to make out more details, the blonde hair framed a slender face with an angular nose and a cautious expression, and he was wearing the royal green jumper he said he’d be in.

To say Harry had been surprised was an understatement. That the guy he’d been talking to for almost a month–who was witty and charming, intelligent and sarcastic, who made him laugh until his stomach hurt and who kept him up at night with discussions about Muggle musicians and his favorite desserts–was Draco Malfoy made no sense, and yet, when the door opened, the tiny overhead bell tinkling happily, it was him.

Almost as soon as the door closed behind him, he stopped in his tracks, recognition drawing his manicured eyebrows together.

“Potter.” His eyes darted around the room as if he might find another person waiting for him wearing a red and black flannel. When his eyes settled back on Harry, the crease between his eyebrows seemed impossibly deeper. “You’re–are you–”

“heartofalion7?” He nodded. “And that makes you–”

“asnakeinthegarden.” He sighed. His eyebrows fluttered down and closed with his sagging shoulders. With his hands clenched into fists, he asked, “Is this some kind of joke? Because if it is–”

“It’s not. It’s–” Draco was the last person he’d expected to meet today, and while it almost seemed like a cosmic joke that his garden snake was his school nemesis, he couldn’t deny the feelings of joy and excitement and passion and lust that had been swirling around within him, all born out of honest conversation. “It’s serendipity.”

“It’s insanity!” Draco folded his arms across his chest, continuing to raise his guard. “This has to be some kind of mix-up! You and I, Potter, we’re enemies, or have you forgotten? We don’t like anything about each other.”

“I mean, you did say you were fascinated by my nipples.”

Harry had seen Draco flush before, and in those previous situations, the red in his cheeks had given him great satisfaction. Much like before, the pink tinting those high cheekbones made Harry immensely satisfied but for a completely different reason this time.

“That’s not what I said, and you know it.”

“I do.” He smiled, hoping it was coming off inviting. He gestured to the seat across from him. “That’s why you should come sit and tell me more things I already know. Or tell me anything. Just . . . don’t go.”

When Harry kissed Draco goodbye later that afternoon, it was with a smile on his lips and, for the first time in a long time, a vision of what his future could look like.

Three years later, they were exchanging wedding vows.

Present day, five years after their first date, Harry and Draco were sitting in their surrogate’s kitchen.

Madeleine was a patisserie owner and an old friend of Draco’s, having met when she was trying to get her business up and running. He lent her the money while she indulged his sweet tooth. When Draco had mentioned that they were wanting to have a baby, she enthusiastically offered to help, saying, “You helped me get my baby. Let me help you get yours!”

Harry was so excited by the initial excitement of his dream coming true that after all paperwork and details were taken care of and Maddie’s pregnancy was confirmed, he felt a little bereft. He knew having a baby with a man would be a different experience than having one with a woman who was his partner, but still, he thought he would be more involved somehow, that there would be more to do in the months before the baby arrived.

Draco must have sensed his restlessness because a few weeks into the pregnancy, on a Sunday afternoon, Draco walked Harry into their backyard with one hand over his eyes and the other on the small of his back guiding him forward.

“No peeking!” he’d said, his voice warm with affection.

“I’m not! I’m not!”

When they reached the end of the deck, he removed his hand and said, “Okay. You can look.”

Blinking to clear his vision, their small fenced-in backyard had been decorated with navy streamers and dark purple balloons. Madeleine was standing in front of a folding table laden with sweets holding a sign that said, “HAPPY BABY BLUEBERRY!!”

“What is this?” he asked, looking between the two of them.

“Well,” Madeleine started, “I thought a fun way to keep you up to date on the baby’s progress would be to have a weekly pastry party, based on the baby’s relative size to fruit. This week Baby Potter-Malfoy is the size of a blueberry, so I made you some blueberry treats: cobbler, cookies, and crumble bars! Each week will be something new!”

And so, thirty-one weeks in, Harry and Draco were sitting at Maddie’s kitchen table while she pulled some sweets from the refrigerator, refusing to let them help.

With his arm wrapped around the back of Harry’s chair, Draco leaned in and softly said, “What do you think it’s going to be this week?”

“Hmm, maybe a melon? Like a cantaloupe or honeydew.”

“I was thinking maybe a pineapple.”

“Close,” Maddie said, setting down a circular dish with a flaky crust, whipped peaks, and coconut flakes garnishing the top. “Not quite as big yet and a little more . . . hairy.” She winked at him before turning back to the fridge.

Harry found Draco’s hand under the table and gently squeezed. “We have a little baby coconut.” He suddenly sat up, back straight and eyes wide. “We have a little baby coconut!”

He didn’t know why this felt different. Maybe it was because he’d learned that baby poop could be the consistency of the pie they were about to eat (which he was still going to eat). Maybe it was the “hairy” comment, even though he knew the baby had all its essential parts by now. It wasn’t because of the size; that set in with the cauliflower. (Draco had snapped a picture of him cradling a cauliflower crown with tears in his eyes a few weeks ago.) But for reasons not even Hermione could explain, Baby Coconut Potter-Malfoy suddenly made this very real for Harry.

Turning to face Draco, he could feel the tears welling up in his eyes again. “We have a little baby coconut.”

With a small smile, Draco pressed a kiss to his forehead. “We do, and they’re gonna be here so soon.”

The tears were fully running down his cheeks now. It honestly didn’t make any sense, but he didn’t care. Taking his husband’s face gently in his hands, he kissed him sweetly. “I promise not to be this much of a mess when we have our next kid.”

Draco swiped a thumb across his cheek. “If you break it, I promise I won’t be upset.”

Laughing through his tears, Harry said, “Godric, I love you. Happy Baby Coconut!”

“Happy Baby Coconut, my love.”

AUGUST MASTERPOST

#august 2022 #august writing prompts #august writing challenge #had fun with this one #writing prompt: coconut #harry potter #draco malfoy #drarry fanfiction #drarry fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic

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shadyelizabeth · 2 years

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8.09. SWIMMING POOL

“What’s with the long face, mate?”

Harry’s head snapped in Ron’s direction, his red hair made brighter by the high afternoon sun.

“What face?”

“Your forehead is all squinty, and you started frowning. What do you have to be upset about on a day like this?!” Ron threw his sunblock-covered arms out to his sides. “Look around! The sun is shining! The weather is warm! Just because it didn’t work out with Hermione’s friend doesn’t mean you missed your chance! You’ve got all these fit girls walking around in bikinis!” Lightly flicking him on the shoulder with the back of his hand, he said, “Loosen up, lad!”

If only it were that simple.

When Ron had suggested they go to the pool, he’d been all for it.

Harry loved swimming and being in water in general. He loved the refreshing coolness of the water on his skin. He loved cutting through with a strong stroke and kinetic kicks. He loved how, when he completely submerged himself, for those few seconds the rest of the world disappeared. Even though he knew he probably wouldn’t have much space to move, he’d take just being in the water any time.

Plus, the day was a scorcher, and the only way to beat the heat was by either staying inside or taking a dip. With the decision making itself, they’d swiftly gotten changed and set off.

Neither was surprised when they arrived and found the place packed, but despite the crowd, they were able to find an empty spot in the grass to drop their bags and lay their towels before racing each other into the pool.

Everything had been going great. He and Ron had joined a few others in a rather difficult game of Marco Polo. Soon after, a couple of cute girls climbed on their shoulders for a quick and dirty game of chicken. Once they were done, Ron and the brunette who’d been on this team made their way over to a corner in the deep end to chat while Harry excused himself to the loo. The blonde who had helped him take down his best friend had been very cute, but he didn’t want to leave her with the impression he was interested.

Needing a little break, he headed over to his towel, rifling through his bag for the sandwich and fruit he’d brought with him. Ron joined him a few minutes later, a satisfied smile on his face. He plopped down next to Harry, pulled out his own food, and they watched the other pool patrons while they ate.

And that’s when he saw him: Draco Malfoy.

Draco was the last person Harry had expected to see considering he’d said “Public pools are for peasants”, and yet there he was with his long legs, stupid smirk, and all that fair skin.

When Ron had asked what was up with his facial expression, it was easier to let him assume that he was upset about striking out with that girl than tell him the truth. Though Ron was his best friend, he hadn’t quite yet figured out how to tell him he also liked guys and that his somewhat nemesis and the one guy who he was really into just walked in.

Harry and Draco were on a local swim team together, but he was the scholarship kid. Unlike his teammates, Harry had earned a spot on the team because of his skills and not because his parents had paid dues to the facility where they practiced.

He hadn’t received a warm welcome from the team, but Draco had been the worst by far. He made fun of Harry for being poor. He pointedly excluded Harry from conversations or stopped talking whenever he approached, and when he did have to talk to him, his tone was condescending and belittling, as if Harry’s socioeconomic status was indicative of his intelligence.

Draco was quite possibly the most pretentious and obnoxiously rude person Harry had ever had the displeasure of meeting, but he couldn’t deny that Draco was an amazing swimmer and a vital element to the team’s success, though he’d never admit it aloud.

Draco was their best diver, and while Harry came close, he couldn’t quite match the height Draco got in his bounce. Harry attributed it to the difference in their physiques and not their skill level. Draco was a few inches taller than him, and whereas Harry’s strength was concentrated in his arms and shoulders, Draco’s was everywhere. From a distance, he could easily get mistaken for skinny, but in reality, he was all corded muscle–lean, with not an ounce of fat on him. It was both enviable and admirable. (Harry told himself the only reason he wanted to feel Draco’s body wrapped around him was for scientific purposes and not because he wanted to feel those powerful thighs constrict him like a boa.)

Harry could not have Ron see him seeing Draco as he was unsure what kind of expression his face might make. It could fall anywhere from revulsion to undressing him with his eyes. He also didn’t want Draco to see him seeing him.

The only way Harry saw himself getting out of this was either leaving or drowning and by the look on Ron’s face, leaving without an explanation wasn’t an option. There were plenty of lifeguards around. No of them would let him die.

“Potter, is that you?”

Turned out drowning would have to wait.

With a heavy sigh, Harry shielded his eyes as he glanced up. Of course, the stupid git was in his practice gear instead of regular pair of trunks like everyone else, all that pristine, pale skin on display . . . Harry made sure to tilt his head up so that he was looking squarely at his face.

“Oy! Who’s this, Harry?” Ron asked.

“Hullo, Malfoy,” Harry said in answer to both of them. “Surprised to see you here. I thought public pools were beneath you.”

Drawing a hand to his chest, he said, “I like to humble myself every once in a while, remind myself how the poor live. Since you’re here, I’m clearly in the right place.”

Rolling his eyes, Harry said, “So glad I could help remind you of your privilege. Can I help you with anything else?”

“Not at the moment, thank you. I actually came over to see if you fancied a dive-off? Three dives of our choice. The plebeians can judge.” He fluttered his hand in the general direction of the people around them.

“And the winner takes?”

“Bragging rights, of course. I doubt you could afford anything I would want. Plus, who doesn’t love a little friendly competition, right?”

“We’re not friends, or did you forget?”

“And whose fault is that?”

“Yours. Definitively.”

The smile he gave Harry was wicked, a glint in his eyes Harry was sure had nothing to do with the sun. “Maybe today’s the day we change that, Potter. Meet me at the diving board when you’re ready,” he said, before sauntering off.

Once he was out of earshot, Ron asked, “That’s the wanker from your swimming club? The one you’re always harping about?”

Harry nodded.

“You’ve gotta kick his arse!”

“Probably not, but he’ll probably make me regret not taking the challenge more.”

Ron clapped him on the shoulder. “Even though I’ve never seen you at your fancy club, I’ve seen you here, and you’re amazing, mate! And these are our people. They’ll see right through that walking broomstick.”

Harry rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and his forefinger. Resigned, he pushed to his feet and said, “Let’s do this.”

>>>>>>>

Harry tried to keep the satisfied smile off of his face as he walked toward the washroom to change. This win hadn’t meant anything, but it was nice to see the shock on Draco’s face when he got the loudest cheers.

He rounded a pillar when someone reached out and grabbed his arm, pulling him close. He was spun around, his back pressed up against brick. One strong arm was bent just above his head, bicep bulging, while the other came to rest heavy and hot on his hip.

His arms had folded up in front of him, ready to shove whoever away, but when he got his bearings, his eyes met Draco’s steely gaze.

He instantly became aware of all the smooth, creamy skin surrounding him, and how all he had to do was stretch his fingers out a little bit and he’d be able to feel. But he let his arms relax at his sides.

Draco leaned in, his voice soft as he spoke directly into Harry’s ear. “I saw that smug smile. Those commoners wouldn’t know their arses from their elbows, so enjoy this while you can, Potter.

“Though”–his breath sent a shiver down Harry’s spine–“I have to admit, your form today was impressive, especially on that reverse twist. Not as good as mine, but still, damn near perfect.”

He stepped forward, closing whatever space had existed between their bodies. The angles of their hips bumped, and Harry didn’t dare confirm what he thought he was feeling through the thin material of his trunks. “With a little one-on-one time, I can get you there”–he nipped his earlobe–“amongst other places.”

And as quickly as he’d come, he was gone, backing away with a devil may care smile. “Call me sometime,” he said and turned to walk away. “That’s if you have a phone, of course,” he threw over his shoulder.

Running his fingers through his damp hair, Harry shook his head. With a small huff, he thought Maybe today wasn’t so bad after all.

AUGUST MASTERPOST

#august 2022 #august writing challene #august writing prompts #word prompt: swimming pool #harry potter #draco malfoy #drarry #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #drarry fanfiction #drarry fanfic #ron weasley #brief hermione mention

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shadyelizabeth · 2 years

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8.08. GARDEN PARTY

Harry looked down out of the picture window in Draco’s old bedroom at the Manor’s backyard, which had been transformed into a floral wonderland. Flowers of all shapes, sizes, and colors decorated the yard, in giant vases, as centerpieces, and hung around the mouths of the white wedding tents that had been raised. Each tent was strung with fairy lights by actual fairies who were floating freely around the space. The sun was shining high in the bright, blue sky with no clouds in sight.

Dozens of fashionably dressed witches and wizards were mingling, sipping glasses of something light and fizzy. The flutes were enchanted to automatically refill themselves when empty, and by the braying laughter filtering up through the thick glass, he knew some people were well into their third or fourth drinks.

He recognized a few faces, some from the Ministry and some from the press, but the rest were strangers to him. And yet, all of them were here for him and Draco, waiting for them to make their grand entrance.

In the years since the war ended, Harry had taken back his privacy. The wizarding world would always know him as “The Boy Who Lived” but that didn’t mean they needed to know his every move, especially as an adult. He knew certain things would be unavoidable, like when he took a job as an Auror or what team he was supporting at the Quidditch World Cup, but he took extra measures to make sure no one ever followed him home or was able to report on the mundane things, like what he purchased on his weekly trips to the market. He controlled his own narrative now.

Which was why the press didn’t know about his and Draco’s relationship until they were ready. They’d taken things so slow at the beginning, figuring out if the lust between them was anything more than carnal attraction or not. Even after they’d agreed to get to know each other as Harry and Draco, instead of Potter and Malfoy, they waited a couple more months before “getting caught” holding hands in public, fully prepared to make headlines for weeks, if not months.

However, having that control for so long left him unprepared for Narcissa Malfoy and the Malfoy family traditions.

Tucking a finger underneath his collar, Harry gently tugged, suddenly feeling like his dress shirt was choking him.

As if sensing his distress, Draco’s arms wrapped around Harry’s waist. His head rested softly on his shoulder. Harry leaned back into his warm embrace.

Pressing a soft kiss to his temple, Draco said, “I’m sorry about all of this.”

“I’m assuming this isn’t your fault. Unless you specifically told your mum to plan this societal debut.”

“No.” Draco chuckled. “I did not, but I’ve also never been good at denying Mother’s wishes. I should have been more stern in letting her know you were uncomfortable with this type of attention. To her credit, though, she did keep the guest list small.”

Harry felt his eyes bulge. Craning his head to look up at his boyfriend, he said, “You call this small?!”

“Yes.” He nodded. “The previous guest list had three hundred people on it. I talked her down to under one.”

He sighed heavily through his nose.

When Draco had told him his mother was planning a garden party to officially announce their relationship (because, apparently, it wasn’t legitimate before now), Harry had thought it was a joke, but Draco had shrugged sheepishly. The Malfoys had a long list of old family traditions, and if Harry intended to have a future with Draco, he would have to get used to events like this. Thankfully, this was the only one for now where he was a guest of honor.

“We don’t have to stay long,” Draco said, giving him a small squeeze. “We just have to make a few rounds and introductions. Let Mother get through her sappy speech about how happy she is for us and how you’re a part of the family now, and when we get home”–he nibbled on his earlobe–“I promise to make it up to you.”

Resigned, Harry said, “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

>>>>>>>

Things were going better than Harry had expected. Draco had been by his side since they’d descended the stairs, and he’d kept a hand on Harry at all times, whether it was on the small of his back, an arm wrapped around his waist, or their fingers laced together. His touch offered a steady stream of comfort.

Having checked their reflections in the mirror before leaving the room, he knew the picture they made. With his black curls and inky black dress robes that shifted like the night sky when he moved and Draco in his sparkling silver suit and with the signature platinum-blonde Malfoy hair, they looked like yin and yang, a contrast of dark and light. (Of course, Harry hadn’t had any say in how they were styled this afternoon.)

Now that they were on the grounds, Harry was in awe of his surroundings. The flowers were so vibrant he had to wonder if magic had helped grow them. There were bouquets of red and white roses, the reds like rubies, and the whites as bright as freshly fallen snow. There were large, blossoming sunflowers and a spectrum of purple flowers, from light, powdery lilac to deep, royal indigo. Flowers he’d never seen before sprung up from the grass in prismatic patches, and the smell was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before even though Draco liked experimenting with floral scents.

They made their rounds, stopping to chat with anyone who stopped them or waved them aside. Many of the guests were parents of his former classmates. He could see the similarities in their facial features–in the slope of a nose or the curve of someone’s smile. Draco was content doing most of the talking, but some people wanted to hear from him directly.

Some wanted to talk about his job. Everyone knew being an Auror wasn’t for the faint of heart. If his life hadn’t been what it was, he’s sure he would have chosen a different profession, but not even having fought Voldemort had prepared him for some of the horrors he saw on the job. He tried to keep being an Auror separate from his personal life, politely declining to answer any questions outside of how things were going and how much longer he saw himself in the position.

A couple of women wanted to gossip, asking if there were any plans for a wedding in the near future and if they had thought about having kids. Those were conversations he and Draco had yet to have, so he could answer truthfully. When they needled him for more information, asking how he personally felt about wanting kids and what that would mean if Draco didn’t feel the same, he let himself get pulled away.

Even though the war had been over for almost ten years now, the parents who pulled him aside wanted to thank him for his sacrifice, which wasn’t anything new. People had been approaching him for years issuing the same sentiment, and despite the time that’d passed, he still hadn’t quite figured out how to respond. It wasn’t as if he’d volunteered to be Voldermort’s counter. Participating in the war hadn’t been a choice for him, which was why accepting their gratitude never felt right–and why, as soon as he finished talking to the parents of a Hufflepuff from his year, he “excused himself to the loo”.

He dodged anyone and any questions he could, never stopping but smiling politely and saying he had to use the restroom, but as soon as he found a quiet, unpopulated corner, he removed his glasses and wiped a hand down his face, taking a few deep breaths to center himself.

After a few minutes and a small pep talk with himself, Harry set off down the hall looking for an actual washroom. He’d only been to the Manor a handful of times, and it was large enough that he still hadn’t learned his full way around.

He opened one door on the left side of the hall that seemed to be separate from the others, but it turned out to be a storage closet of some sort, full of fur coats and boxes and something that rattled in the corner where the light didn’t reach. He quickly shut the door and walked a few more meters before trying another one, but just as his hand reached for the handle, he could see the door was already cracked open. Leaning in, a voice could be heard from inside, saying his name.

“–thought that Harry Potter was a sissy?”

“As much time as he supposedly spent with Dumbledore, is there really any surprise?”

Harry’s blood turned to ice; his stomach curdled.

“The Malfoy boy came as no shock. He’s always been a little too dainty if you ask me.”

The other voice hummed in agreement.

“And this whole party celebrating their so-called love is a disgrace. The two of them parading around, holding hands, like it’s normal for two lads to get on? I don’t care if Potter did save the wizarding world. If he takes a prick up–”

Harry slammed the door shut and took off back the way he’d come, not wanting to hear the rest of that conversation.

Without really paying attention to where he was going, he somehow ended up back in Draco’s old bedroom. His hands were shaking when he closed the door.

He and Draco had had a long talk about how people might react to their relationship once they went public. Draco had come out soon after the war. People were always going to judge him for being a Death Eater. He figured they might as well judge his whole self.

As expected, he’d faced increased backlash. Those who yelled at and heckled him for his involvement with the Dark Lord tagged on derogatory slurs. Draco hadn’t let it affect him; living in fear of dying every day had given him a thick skin, and even though their relationship was coming more than five years later, he warned Harry he could face the same scrutiny, regardless of who he was.

Harry had always known it would happen one day. If Dumbledore wasn’t able to escape the debasement even in death, Harry knew he wouldn’t be able to, but maybe a small part of him thought he could, if only because it hadn’t happened yet.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been absent from the party when Draco found him. His expression must have been bleak because he immediately fell to his knees in front of him and asked, “What’s wrong, love?”

He shook his head, unable to meet Draco’s eyes. “Nothing. It’s dumb. It–it’s stupid.”

“Harry.” Draco tucked a finger under his chin and gently raised his head. “What happened?”

He sighed. “I accidentally overheard two wizards talking about us. They were saying some crude things, and–”

Giving Harry’s thigh a gentle squeeze, Draco said, “Say no more. I’m sorry you had to hear that. Did you–”

“No.” Harry shook his head. “I was angry, but I think I was mostly shocked even though you warned me. You told me it would happen one day.”

Draco softly rubbed the inside of his knee with his thumb. “And yet, you’re still never quite ready when it does.” Standing up, he placed a soft kiss on Harry’s forehead. Holding out his hand, he said, “Let’s get out of here.”

“But what about the party?” He glanced out the window where the event was still going strong. “And your mum?”

“Forget the party. We’ve said enough hellos. We’ll miss her speech, but she’ll undeniably recite it for us later.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.” His silver eyes sparkled in the sunlight shining through the window. “Let’s go home.”

AUGUST MASTERPOST

#so behind on these #august 2022 #august writing challenge #august writing prompts #harry potter #draco malfoy #drarry fanfiction #drarry fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfiction #word prompt: garden party #tw: homophobia #gotta stop writing four page fics

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shadyelizabeth · 2 years

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8.07. PROMISE

The sun had begun to set over the lake; orange gold covered the deep blue-green of the water like oil. The air was warm and smelled of wildflowers. Crickets chirped along to the music filtering from the little handheld radio sitting in the corner of the tent, something light and twangy. Draco sat encircled in Harry’s arms; his short blonde hair tickled the underside of his chin.

When Draco had told Harry he was considering not attending Hogwarts for their final year, Harry hadn’t taken the news well. He’d wanted to be supportive. He’d wanted to smile and encourage Draco to chase his dreams because that’s what a good boyfriend would’ve done, but Harry had needed some time and space to process.

Draco had always been an academic, on par with Hermione. He was like a sponge, wanting to soak up and experience everything he could get his hands on. Despite his family’s–more specifically, his father’s–expectations for him to follow in the Malfoy family’s footsteps of wizarding politics, Draco was first and foremost a scholar, and he was determined to walk his own path. Their relationship as friends, and now as boyfriends, was the perfect example of that, of Draco being his own person, so it hadn’t come as a total surprise that he wanted to study at Ilvermorny next year.

However, it would be a new dynamic for them. It would be the first time since they started dating that they’d be apart for more than a few weeks, and it terrified Harry. Even with magic at their very fingertips, he was unsure how to make their relationship work if they were more than 5500 kilometers apart.

Almost everything everywhere said long-distance relationships usually didn’t last, and no matter how much he thought what he and Draco had was strong enough to withstand anything, he was afraid his wishful thinking may have been just that.

But Harry didn’t want fear and uncertainty to dictate his actions. Not only did Draco deserve better than that; he deserved better from him.

After a swift kick in the arse (and a long talk with Ron and Hermione), Harry was able to accept that Draco’s decision whether to go or not wasn’t about him, or even about their relationship. But they still needed to have a long conversation about if he’d decided to go to Ilvermorny and what that would mean for them.

It was partially why he’d planned this little weekend outing, so they could talk in peace. It was also nice to get away from the hustle and bustle of the castle and nosey classmates.

He’d been trying to find a way to bring up the subject but no time up to this point had felt right . . . But there was no time like the present.

Clearing his throat, he said, “Can we talk?”

Draco tipped his head back, looking up at him through long silver lashes. “About what?”

Harry took a deep breath, knowing he could feel the rise and fall of his chest but hoping he couldn’t feel the rapid pace of his heart.

“You haven’t said anything more about Ilvermorny, but I’ve been thinking a lot about it. I haven’t brought the subject back up because I was too afraid to hear your answer, and I haven’t pushed you to talk about it because I figured you’d tell me when you were ready. I know it shouldn’t be a big deal, but I’ve been thinking a lot about what going could mean for us and I need to get some things off my chest.”

Pulling free from Harry’s arms, he turned around, so they were face-to-face. “You’re freaking me out, Potter.”

“Don’t freak out.”

“But you sound like–like you wanna end–”

“No!” Harry said before he could finish that statement.

“You’re not trying to break up with me?”

“Absolutely not! I’m hoping your desire to study overseas isn’t an elaborate plan to break up with me?”

Shaking his head, he said, “No! Of course not!”

Harry let out a little sigh of relief. He knew Draco wouldn’t actually do something like that, but it was nice to hear him say it aloud.

Cupping his face, Harry gently rubbed the soft spot behind Draco’s ear with his thumb. “I don’t wanna break up. That’s the last thing I wanna do. I was tryna figure out how to say this without freaking you out, but I think I might do so either way.” Calling for his bag, it popped into his hand seconds later. He dug around for a moment until his hand felt the small, green velvet box and pulled it out.

Draco’s eyes went wide. He leaned back and rapidly blinked as if he was trying to make sure they weren’t deceiving him. “Harry.” His name left his lips in a breathy whisper.

He held up his hands. “It’s not what you think. I just need a few minutes to explain.”

Nodding slowly, Draco’s gaze never left his face.

“I didn’t react the best when you told me about wanting to study in America. I spiraled. I automatically started thinking about how the distance would put a lot of strain on our relationship, and–I don’t think I even admitted it to myself yet–how much I would fucking miss you. And on top of all of that, I mean, Draco, you’re amazing and charming and beautiful. Who’s to say you wouldn’t meet someone else–someone better suited–”

Laying a hand on his knees, Draco squeezed. Fervently shaking his head, he said, “That would never happen!”

“You don’t know that.” His shoulders came up in a half shrug. “On New Year’s, you said we have no idea what the future has in store for us. I don’t know if you said that because you were already thinking about leaving Hogwarts or just in general, but either way, you’re right. Maybe you stay and we live happily ever after. Maybe you go and the space is wondrous for us. Maybe you stay and what I’m about to say will be moot in a few months anyway, but–”

Harry popped open the small, green velvet box with a crisp snap. Draco’s eyes automatically went to the sterling silver knot.

When he’d started looking for a ring, he had hundreds of options in front of him: silver and rose gold bands inlaid with square cut, circular, or heart-shaped diamonds; silver bands engraved with secret messages; rings shaped like crowns, and ring pairs that, when placed side-by-side, made a full heart. Out of everything he could have chosen from, he had selected a silver band in an eternal loop. It was the one ring that felt simply Draco.

“I love you. I think I always have. Despite what the world expected of us, we chose our own truths. We chose love. We chose each other. I will continue to choose you, to choose us, no matter what you decide.

“I want you to do whatever is best for you. I will not be the one to hold you back; I will support whatever you decide. I will continue to walk this path with you, and this ring is a promise of that.”

Setting the box aside, he laced their fingers together and brought his knuckles to his mouth, leaving a trail of light kisses.

“I understand; it’s a lot to take in, and if you need some time to think about it, take all the time you need.”

Draco opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. His eyes flicked between Harry and the ring. In the moments of silence, Harry’s heartbeat sounded thunderous in his ears. The longer Draco said nothing, the more anxious he became. He needed him to say something, do something.

When the quiet became too much, Harry started, “You don’t have–”

“Harry. I–” Draco said at the same time.

They shared a sheepish smile.

“You first,” he said.

“I was just gonna say that I wasn’t sure what to say.”

“I was gonna say that you don’t have to say anything right now. I mean, like, don’t stop talking to me, but you don’t have to take the ring now if you don’t wanna. And you don’t have to–”

He placed a hand on his chest to stop him. “Well, I do–want the ring,” he said with a nervous laugh.

“You do?”

“Yes,” he said, holding out his right hand.

Without taking his eyes off Draco, Harry fumbled for the box dislodging the ring from its small sheath when he found it. With the steadiest hands he could manage, he slid the ring onto his finger, having visions of placing a more permanent fixture there one day.

“Thank you,” Draco said quietly.

“You’re welcome.”

Pushing himself forward, Draco pressed a slow, gentle kiss to his lips, his fingers curling into the soft material of Harry’s t-shirt. His hands went to Draco’s waist to hold him in place.

“Mmm.” Draco hummed, the space between their mouths just big enough for him to say, “As much as I would love to continue doing this and only this, maybe we should have that talk,” bracing himself before he sat back.

“What were we even talking about?” Harry asked, still reeling from the feeling of his lips on his. He didn’t know if he’d ever get used to it.

“About the future, our future.”

“Oh yeah. Right.” Harry nodded curtly.

“The way my father talked about your parents, growing up, I thought they were villains, and when I learned we’d be in the same year together, I was sure you were gonna be just as bad. But when you smiled at me that first day, all wide-eyed and toothy, I had to wonder what else I’d been led to believe that wasn’t true.”

Lacing their fingers together, Draco continued, “You, Harry Potter, are the best truth I’ve ever uncovered. Younger me would’ve never thought that I’d feel so safe and loved with you, but I do. I feel so unconditionally loved by you, and I hope you know that I love you so, so much, more than I’ll ever have words to articulate. And because of that, I thought whatever I decided, everything would be okay.”

Draco went to his knees and scooted closer, bumping his nose against his. “

“I’m sorry for not saying something sooner. I truly didn’t think my going would weigh so heavily on you. After talking it over with Snape and McGonagall, I’ve decided to stay. Ilvermorny would be a fantastic opportunity, but I would be leaving everything I know and love for something I can do later. So, if you only bought this ring because you thought I was leaving, I think I have to give it back.”

“No. I mean”–Harry met his eyes–“a big reason I did was because of the school thing, but mostly, I bought it as a symbol of my love for you. No matter where you are, whether that be miles away or right here beside me, that ring belongs on your finger and nowhere else.”

Draco threw his arms around Harry’s neck and started peppering kisses from his forehead to his mouth, each punctuated with a word.

“I”–kiss–“really”–kiss–“fucking”–kiss–“love”–kiss–“you!”–kiss.

His legs straightened out. Draco crawled into his lap, his legs going around Harry’s waist, their bodies flush. This kiss was heavy and held intention, like dropping a match in gasoline. Draco's nails scraped against his scalp where they tangled in his hair.

Harry’s hands on his lower back held him steady and close. He could feel the heat of Draco’s skin through the thin material of their shirts. His hands dipped under his collar, smoothing over the expanse of his back. There was a sudden rush of blood to his groin as Draco rolled his hips.

Pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw, Draco stood up and held out his hand, wiggling his long delicate fingers. Nodding toward the back of the tent, he said, “Come to bed with me, my love.” His hazy and heavy-lidded eyes make it very clear they won’t be sleeping.

Taking Draco’s outstretched hand, he let him pull him to his feet. With a quick colloportus spell, they spent the rest of the night making new promises to each other.

AUGUST MASTERPOST

#august 2022 #august writing prompts #harry potter #draco malfoy #drarry #drarry fic #drarry fanfic #hp fanfic #hp fic #word prompt: promise #this started out as camping #but i don't know anything about camping #fluff

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shadyelizabeth · 2 years

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8.06. SPARKLE

Harry was a cliché. He knew he was a cliché, and a desperate one at that, but this was his life. He could either accept it or fight it, and right now, accepting it seemed to be the best way to go.

He laid shoulder-to-shoulder with Draco, his best friend and the love of his life, in the quilted hammock strung up in his backyard.

The summer was coming to a close; school was set to start next week, and after spending the last few months apart, this was all Harry had been looking forward to—taking these last few days to relax and catch up on everything that had happened while they’d been away from home.

Harry had spent the summer in Cumbria with his Uncle Remus. Remus moved around a lot, being one of the only specialists in the UK for a rare blood disease, so Harry didn’t see him often. But within the last two years, he’d taken on an apprentice who was now able to cover for Remus so he could have the summer off. As soon as he knew he had the time, he rang Harry and asked if he’d like to spend the summer with him.

Harry had elatedly said yet, happy to escape the concrete and pavement of London (and have something to do while Draco was away). He and Remus had spent as much time as possible outdoors, going camping, hiking, and kayaking. He’d learned to fish and track animals by their footprints and droppings. He’d become a proper outdoorsman and had had a wonderful time, but he was glad to be home.

Draco had spent the summer with his grandparents at their beach house, and while Harry hadn’t thought he could get any more beautiful when he opened the door to find Draco on his front steps a few days ago, he had to fight to keep his jaw from hitting the floor. His normally pale skin had bronzed in the summer sunshine, and his legs, somehow, looked longer giving Harry the impression of a Gargarean. And even though they’d talked every couple of days, sent selfies of their activities, and video chatted a time or two, Harry hadn’t been prepared for the little brown freckles that had appeared on his skin. He wanted to trace lines between them and create constellations with his fingers.

And with Draco in nothing but a cut-off tee and a pair of gym shorts, those freckles on full display across his shoulders and thighs, Harry really had to resist the urge.

But he had an idea.

He knew he was going to drive himself crazy if he didn’t figure out if the feelings he had for his friend were even remotely mutual. Draco had been kinda cryptic when it came to the love department. He talked about celebrities he was into, like Darryl McCormack and Cara Delevingne, but it was all superficial. He rarely mentioned anyone real, anyone they knew, and Harry could only hope it was because they were hiding a similar secret—into someone but too afraid to voice those feelings out loud without some kind of reassurance that that person also felt the same.

But there was also a niggling feeling that maybe Draco knew about Harry’s feelings and didn’t want to push what he couldn’t reciprocate in his face. (Harry had driven himself crazy this summer wondering what parts of his vacation Draco wasn’t telling him about. He’d seen the hot guys and the beautiful girls in the backgrounds of the pictures he’d sent; knew anyone with two eyes would only have to witness Draco’s smile to fall in love with him.)

He couldn’t wait much longer to find out. Even if Draco didn’t feel the same way, at least he’d have an answer, but he couldn’t go into this upcoming school year with all the new competition without shooting his shot first.

Rolling up on his side the best he could, Harry asked, “Did you guys ever play Sparkle in primary school?”

“Uhh, maybe?” Draco squinted up at him. “Remind me what it is.”

“So, everyone in the class would stand up in a circle. Either the teacher or one of the kids would volunteer to go first, and they would go in a line spelling the word sparkle. And whoever was after the person who said the ‘e’, they would say, ‘Sparkle!’ and, like, twirl out of the circle. And you’d keep going and going until there was one person left.”

Draco’s face crinkled, his nose scrunching up in a way that made Harry want to boop it. “I don’t think we did, and it seems kinda stupid? Like, was sparkle the only word you ever spelled?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Lol yeah! It was, like, year one! I don’t know what our spelling prowess was!”

“You know the word ‘prowess’ now, so I’m assuming you could’ve handled bigger words than sparkle. But what made you bring that up?”

Clearing his throat, Harry said, “I, uh, saw this new trend online where two friends or couples were playing Sparkle but with dares. So whoever went first would start out with a dare that started with ‘s’ and so on and so forth until someone gave up or the game was over.”

“Okay.” Draco did his best to mirror Harry’s position. “So, what’s the wager? If I win, you have to clean my room once a week for a month.”

“Oh, Lord!” Harry groaned, knowing the mess Draco could make in a few hours, let alone a few days. “Fine. If I win, you have to watch all the Star Wars movies with me.”

“Bet,” Draco said, with a mischievous glint in his eye. Harry’s heartbeat kicked up a notch when he said, “You go first.”

He sent up a silent prayer of gratitude, thankful Draco had let him go first. The only way his plan would work was if he started. “Okay. Show me something you’ve never shown anyone else before.”

A sly grin unfolded across Draco’s lips. “I don’t know if you’ve been picking up my vibe, but there has been something I’ve been wanting to show you but hadn’t figured out how to bring it up.”

Even though they were alone in Harry’s backyard, Draco poked his head up and looked around, as if to make sure there were no prying eyes. When he was satisfied, he pulled up what little material there was of his shorts to reveal a small black and white snake trailing up his inner thigh.

It was simple but sexy, placed with intention. It made Harry’s mouth dry. He wanted to touch it, run his fingers (and his tongue) over it reverently. He had to tear his eyes away before he did something he couldn’t take back.

“When?!”

“This summer!” He tugged the hem of his shorts back down. “One of my older cousins came in for a few days. We look close enough if you’re not looking too closely. I may have borrowed his ID for a few hours.”

“I love it! Did it hurt?”

He shook his head. “It tickled.”

Harry suppressed a shudder.

“Your turn!” Tapping his chin with his forefinger, she said, “I feel like I have to up the stakes, so ‘P’. ‘P’. What can you do that starts with—go punch your godfather!”

Harry felt his eyes go wide. “I mean, do you want me to die?! I can’t clean your room if I’m dead!”

Chuckling, Draco said, “Very true. Very true. Mmm—oh! Doesn’t your neighbor hate when anyone touches her flowers? I’ll go knock on her door for something, and while I’m doing so, pick a few flowers.”

Harry groaned again. His elderly neighbor was very particular about her garden. Every few days, Harry would see her down on her knees removing weeds, putting in new soil, and whatever else it was that people did when maintaining their plants. Though she didn’t do it for show, Mrs. Steele took as much pride in her garden as if she did, which meant no one was to touch her flowers, especially none of the pesky neighborhood kids.

Draco swung himself out of the hammock and walked over to the volleyball resting up against the fence where it rolled after their last game. He popped it up in the air once, twice, and then over the fence on the third hit. He turned his wicked grin to Harry and said, “Oops,” with a shrug. “Guess we better go get that.” He headed for the gate.

Slinking out of the hammock, Harry slid on his sandals and jogged to catch up with his friend.

They stopped at the edge of her front yard, Harry surveying his options. He never really thought about the time and work Mrs. Steele put into her garden, but standing there, he could tell the older woman tended it with care. There were dozens of daffodils and white lilies, tulips in various shades and red roses in bloom, something that looked like lavender or bluebells, and what he thought were hydrangeas spanning the front of his neighbor’s house.

The dare had been for him to pick a few flowers, but that didn’t mean he had to get caught.

Draco bumped Harry with his elbow and started across the yard.

Harry crouched and stayed low, practically on his hands and knees, moving quickly toward a bush on the far side of Mrs. Steele’s home, one she could only see if she stepped out her door and onto her front stoop.

He heard Draco knock and started working on one of the rose bushes, trying not to prick his finger on a thorn.

“Hi, Mrs. Steele!” Draco said, speaking in a fake, chipper tone he reserved for old people and when he wanted people to go away. “So sorry to bother you, but Harry and I were passing the volleyball back and forth, and we accidentally knocked it into your backyard. I was just wondering if I could go back and get it?”

Harry moved the bush side to side, looking for a flower that wouldn’t noticeably be missed.

“Oh, sure, that’s alright! I thought I told Harry that he could go into the backyard any time he needed as long as I was home, or maybe I just thought I did.”

“Since it was just me, I thought I’d knock and ask first!” His tone was still way too cheery.

Harry had just closed his fingers around a long-stemmed red rose when he heard, “Where is your—Harry Potter, what are you doing?”

His head popped up just as he snapped the rose stem. Draco was trying his best to hide a smirk. Mrs. Steele’s hand had gone to her hips.

With wide eyes, Harry grasped for words, wondering what he could say to explain the situation away without referring back to the dare. When no words came to mind, he bolted, hating the sound of his flip-flops smacking behind him, not stopping until he reached his room. He didn’t want Mrs. Steele to poke her head out the back door and yell at him over the fence.

A few minutes passed before Draco came sauntering in, flopping down on the bed beside him. His tank rolled up, revealing a small strip of tanned skin just above the waistband of his shorts.

“Mrs. Steele said she didn’t know why you didn’t just ask for a rose and told me to tell you that, as long as it doesn’t happen again, she won’t have to talk to Sirius.”

Harry rolled his eyes and shoved the flower at Draco.

“Here! In case she changes her mind, I’d rather not have the evidence on me.”

Draco brought the rose to his nose and inhaled deeply. Fluttering his eyelashes, he said in a dramatic Cockney accent, “Aww, mate, you shouldn’t’ve!”

Rolling his eyes again, Harry said, “Back to you. For your next dare, you’re gonna call the closest carpet cleaning place and ask them how to get blood out of carpet.”

“Pssh!” Draco threw his hand. “Easy. Peasy.”

They rearranged themselves so they were sitting criss-cross across from each other on his bed, knees bumping. Draco pushed a few buttons on his cell and then laid it face up on the sheets between them. The call rang three times before a male voice answered. “Thanks for calling Carpet Fresh Carpet Cleaners. My name is Marc. How can I help you today?”

“Hi, Marc,” Draco said, continuing in the Cockney accent. “I was wonderin’ if you could tell me how to get a blood stain out of a bright rug?”

There was a slight pause before he answered. “How long has the blood been there?”

“Uhh, maybe fifteen minutes.”

“Is this a prank call?” he asked. The jovial tone he’d had when he answered the phone had completely disappeared.

“No, I swear. I tried lookin’ on the web, but there’s just too much info to look through, and I need to get this mess cleaned up before me mum gets home or there’ll be more blood spilled!”

He sighed and said, “How much blood?”

Draco picked up his phone, slid off the bed, and walked to the far side of the room. “Umm, not that much? Like, bigger than a quid but smaller than a fizzy. I don’t know if it helps, and I also don’t know what his problem was today, but me bro just wouldn’t leave me alone. Started in on me as soon as I got up this mornin’. Naggin’ me, hittin’ me, pullin’ my hair. I told him if he didn’t stop, we were gonna fight. He seemed to take that as a challenge and started comin’ at me, so I pulled a knife to try and scare him backwards but he kept comin’ so I cut him.”

Harry slapped his hand over his mouth to try and hold in his laughter.

“This is absolutely a joke. I’m hanging up now.”

“Marc! Marc! It’s not! Look, I’ll put him on the phone.”

He walked back over to Harry who said, “Get away from me, you psycho!”

Draco grinned at him so wide it seemed like his smile was threatening to overtake his face. “I’m not tryna fight with you no more! Ya know we gotta get this mess cleaned up before momma comes home or she’ll skin both our hides! Tell the nice carpet man what happened!”

Harry took the phone from him. “What happened is that my brother is a psychopath! He cut me with an actual knife, and I don’t feel safe—”

“Okay! Okay! Enough of that!” Draco took the phone back. “See, Marc—”

“No. Look, I don’t know if you’re joking or not. I seriously hope you are, and if you’re not, this is not my problem anymore. You can find the information you’re looking for at goodhousekeeping.com. Best of luck to you and your brother. Have a good rest of your day.”

The phone hung up, and they immediately burst out laughing.

Draco wiggled his eyebrows at him. “Like, I said: easy peasy! And now, we are back to you. For ‘r’ you need to follow me to the kitchen.”

The Cheshire grin that slowly unfurled across Draco’s face had Harry shaking his head, but he padded along behind him into the kitchen, terrified of what crazy new thing his best friend had come up with.

Draco scooped up the only pair of car keys sitting on the counter and nodded. “We’re gonna steal—or rob—Sirius’s car!”

Harry put his head in his hands and said, “Why do you wanna see me dead?! What did I ever do to you?! I’ve been a good friend, haven’t I?”

“He’ll never know!” Draco said, not answering any of Harry’s questions. “He has the same schedule every weekday. From 3-5, he is holed up in his office on a daily conference call. It’s”—he looked over at the clock on the stove—“3:24. We have plenty of time to run and get some ice cream and come back without him ever knowing we left!”

Harry continued to shake his head. “I don’t have my license. You don’t have your license!”

“But you do have your permit.”

“Which requires an adult in the car! Neither of which we are!”

“Sooo”—Draco dropped the keys back on the counter—“I guess that means you’re forfeiting, right? Cleaning my room for a month? We can start today, if you’d like!”

“No! Absolutely not!”

“We’re getting ice cream, then?”

Harry sighed, dropping his head and his shoulders, knowing if he got caught, his punishment would be far worse than having to clean Draco’s room, but he needed to complete this task so they could move on to ‘k’. ‘K’ was the whole reason he’d suggested they play this crazy game in the first place. “Yeah, we’re getting ice cream.”

“Yesss!” Draco fist pumped the air, doing a little wiggle dance in victory. “I’ve been dying for an Oreo shake!”

Before he could let his better judgment get the best of him, he swiped the keys and said, “Let’s go.”

Normally his godfather would remote start his car to let the interior cool down before getting in, but Harry wasn’t going to do anything he didn’t absolutely have to. Only once they were in the car with their seat belts buckled did he start the car. His eyes were on the window of the third bedroom that served as Sirius’s office hoping his godfather was deep in conversation and didn’t hear the engine start, but out of the corner of his eye, he could see Draco bouncing in the seat beside his with excitement.

“This is so epic! I can’t wait to tell Teo and Mari we stole your godfather’s car!”

“Uh huh.” his eyes were still glued to the window.

“Harry.” Draco gently touched his arm. ��We are in the clear! Let’s go! The sooner we leave, the sooner we get back.”

He knew he was right, but that didn’t make him any less nervous that today would be the day Sirius strayed from his routine.

With a deep breath, he checked his mirrors and shifted the car into reverse, thinking ‘K’ will be so worth it.

The closest creamery was about seven minutes from his house, a straight shot up the road. Since he’d gotten his permit, he’d driven by it countless times (always with Sirius in the car) on their way to the grocer or on the way back from an appointment or any other time his godfather let him practice. He knew the mechanics—don’t drive with both feet; two hands on the wheel at all times, preferably at ten and two; check his mirrors every three to five seconds; use the blinkers when turning and merging.

Sirius said he was more than ready to take his driver’s test, and honestly, he felt comfortable behind the wheel. Even though he was following every rule of the road and going under the speed limit, it was the idea that he might get caught—either pulled over or Sirius would find them gone—that had him nervous.

Almost as if he could read his mind, Draco reached over and laid a hand on Harry’s knee. “Relax! You’re doing great, and we’ll make this quick . . . ish.”

The red and white sign became visible as he passed through a green light. “We’re going through the drive-thru and then heading back to my house!”

There was a gentle pressure on his knee. “We can’t exactly take the evidence back to your house. If Sirius comes downstairs, he’s gonna wanna know how we got them so quickly.”

If he hadn’t been driving, Harry would have dropped his head against the steering wheel. Instead, he just groaned because he knew Draco was right, again.

“What’s the point in stealing a car, if we’re only gonna keep it for twenty minutes?! Look, we’ll get our milkshakes, sit there and drink them, and then go home. And I’ll make the next dare super, super easy to make up for all the anxiety I’ve cost you today.”

Harry flipped on his right blinker and rolled his eyes, gently laying on the brakes before he turned into the parking lot. For a Thursday afternoon in mid-August, the parking lot was as full as he expected it to be—which was not full at all—but he still circled around the lot until he found a row of empty spots and carefully pulled in.

He shifted the car into park. Draco pulled his hand back to unbuckle his seatbelt. Harry hoped the disappointment didn’t show on his face.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Harry said, “Please don’t make me answer that.”

Draco snorted. “Since you risked life and limb to get us here, milkshake is on me.”

They ordered their drinks and waited for them to be brought out before moving over to sit on the tabletop of one of the plastic-covered picnic tables, trying to find what little shade the awning offered. The table was big enough for them to sit comfortably, uncrowded, but Draco’s body was pressed into his side. His long legs were warm and soft, his shoulders knobby but strong. Their pinkies brushed gently up against each other, and Harry was thankful for the chill of his drink keeping him cool.

He felt rather than saw Draco turn his head. When he said, “It’s your turn,” he felt Draco’s breath against his neck and shivered.

This was the reason he’d started the game in the first place, the moment these dares had been leading up to. As soon as he said the words, there’d be no going back.

It could all go to shit. Draco could recoil and never talk to him again. Or it could be magical and wonderful and the best thing that ever happened. Either way, he’d finally know.

Setting his milkshake aside, Harry turned, looked his best friend directly in the eyes, and said, “Kiss me.”

Draco cocked an eyebrow at him, an audacious smile dancing across his lips. He set his milkshake behind him and turned, scooting impossibly closer and slotting their knees together. He pushed a few loose curls behind Harry’s ear, cupping his cheek tenderly.

Harry didn’t know where to look, between Draco’s half-lidded eyes or his roguish mouth that drew nearer and nearer to his own, and when their lips finally met, it was hesitant and so incredibly soft, like they were testing the waters. Deciding the temperature was fine, they dove in, all reservations left behind.

Draco’s tongue danced across his lips, begging for entrance, and when Harry let him in, he moaned; the taste was so sweet.

Draco’s lips were wild and ravenous against his. His hand found its way into Harry’s hair, holding his head in place while his mouth ravished his, kissing him like he simply couldn’t get enough. It was exciting and exhilarating, and he wasn’t totally sure where to put his hands and his heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest. This kiss was everything he’d imagined it could be and more, which was why a small piece of him died when he pulled his lips away to catch his breath.

Harry rested his forehead against Draco’s, whose thumb gently caressed his cheek and whose heavy breathing matched his. It took him a few tries before he was able to say, “That was—”

“Yeah.”

“Was that—”

Without finishing the question, Draco shook his head. “No.” He pulled back so he could see Harry’s eyes but left his hand in place. “No, I didn’t just kiss you because of the dare. I’ve been wanting to do so for a long, long time. And it seems like maybe you have too?”

Harry laced their fingers together and said, “I’ve liked you for, like, ever. Practically since the day we met.”

“I feel so dumb.” Draco leaned his forehead against Harry’s again. “All this time we’ve spent pining over each other, and we coulda just been snogging!”

Harry placed a finger under Draco’s chin, tipping his friend’s—hopefully, boyfriend’s—face up and dropped a sweet kiss on his lips. “Guess we’ve got some catching up to do.”

AUGUST MASTERPOST

#august 2022 #august writing prompts #(not going so great)#(hard to find the time right now)#harry potter #draco malfoy #drarry #drarry fic #drarry fanfic #hp fanfic #hp fic #word prompt: sparkle #this is long af

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shadyelizabeth · 2 years

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8.05. PAVILION

Harry and Draco walked hand in hand through the town square. They’d both had a long weekend, and in the spur of the moment, had planned a weekend getaway to a little town a few hours from London.

It was just after 8PM, and despite the hour, the local stores and restaurants lining the street front on all sides were lit up and open. Fluorescent lights lit up the approaching darkness, highlighting the lively displays advertised in the shop windows.

They passed a women’s clothing store with its doors thrown open, colorful shirts and dresses in festive patterns adorning the mannequins. A furniture shop specializing in rustic designs had a display kitchen in their front window. There were granite-topped counters and cabinets with barnyard doors. There were cute little touches like the wooden-framed chalkboard stuck to the fridge with a carefully curated to-do list and little potted plants of fresh herbs. Draco made a mental note to stop in there before they went home. Not necessarily to buy anything, but to maybe get some new ideas for the house.

They walked past a bakery promoting their peach cobbler and other inspired treats–baked fresh every day while the fruit was in season!–and what looked to be the town’s gift shop. A quick peek inside showed shirts and hats, mugs and magnets, and other novelties all with the town’s name on them.

In the middle of the square sat a raised six-sided pavilion. A few brick steps led up to the deck. Strands of fairy lights wrapped around each wooden pillar from the base to the top and lined the edges of the white-painted roof. Small trees planted in barrel flower pots sat on either side of the steps; small pink, white, and yellow flowers were planted at the base of the trunks. More fairy lights wove in and out of the branches.

Four people were standing on the pavilion’s deck, all wearing black shirts. From this angle, Draco couldn’t make out what they were doing, but they looked to be moving around setting up equipment. Other people out on the town tonight were starting to walk in the pavilion’s direction.

Gently tugging Harry’s hand, Draco said, “Let’s go see what’s happening over there.”

Checking both ways before they crossed the street, they joined a queue of people walking toward the square’s center. Draco was able to make out the musicians and their instruments the closer they got, a string quartet preparing for a performance.

“Oh!” Draco squeezed Harry’s hand. He’d always loved classical music. Having grown up playing the piano had given him appreciation few others had. He relished any opportunity to hear it performed live. “Can we stay and listen, please?!”

“Of course!” Harry said, squeezing back. “But we might need a blanket.”

Looking around, Draco now saw that most of the couples were either carrying lawn chairs over their shoulders or had blankets thrown over their forearms.

“Would you–”

“Yeah. Go find a spot, and I’ll be right back.” He pressed a quick kiss to Draco’s cheek and took off in the direction of the novelty store.

Draco’s eyes danced over the area, scoping out a free spot. The area was filling up fast, people having already staked their claim on their little piece of grass, but Draco saw space just left of the stairs that was just big enough for him and Harry and would lend a decent view of the performance.

The crowd murmured around him as he sat and watched the other people settling in for the show until Harry returned with the blanket and a few bottles of water.

A few minutes later, once the sun had officially set, one of the male performers stepped up to a microphone at the deck’s edge and tapped the top to get everyone’s attention. A light had popped on above their heads, illuminating the makeshift stage while the fairy lights twinkled around them.

“Hello! We are Heart and Hand, and we liked to thank you all for joining us this evening! We’ll be playing a mix of classical and modern pieces, all of which we hope you’ll enjoy!”

Stepping away from the mic, he went to sit behind a beautiful acoustic cello. On his count, the band started playing. The first song started out with cello only, the first few notes low and somber. Draco immediately recognized “Canon in D Major”. He leaned into Harry and closed his eyes, seeing his fingers fly over piano keys in his head. He let the ebb and the flow of the piece carry him back in his memories to recitals and practicing at home in front of the fireplace for his mum.

The next piece moved into something modern, something Draco wasn’t familiar with, but he enjoyed all the same.

A couple of songs later, Harry’s shoulder bumped into his, and then he shifted. The cool night air trickled in in the absence of his warmth. Blinking his eyes open, he saw Harry stand and extend a hand down to him. “Dance with me?”

“But,” Draco said, looking left and right, “no one else is.”

“So?”

And that was the question. Why did it matter that no one else was?

While Draco had been immersed in the music, the square had darkened. The shops had closed for the night, shutting off most of the light that had been polluting the night. The music paired with the darkened night and the sparkling lights lent a romantic ambience to the evening. The man he loved was looking down at him with adoration, so he took Harry’s outstretched hand and let him pull him to his feet.

Moving onto the payment so they weren’t obstructing anyone’s view, Harry slid his hands around Draco’s waist and pulled him in until their hips were flush. Draco wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck, threading his fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck. They swayed back and forth for the rest of the evening entwined in each other’s arms.

AUGUST MASTERPOST

#august 2022 #august writing prompts #personal writing challenge #harry potter #draco malfoy #drarry #drarry fic #word prompt: pavilion #classical music #slow dancing #weekend getaway

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shadyelizabeth · 2 years

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8.04. MORNING LIGHT

Draco rolled over onto his side and stretched, the morning light bright behind his eyelids. He nestled further into silky smooth sheets, the familiar scent of firewood and citrus tickling his nose.

He didn’t need to cast a tempus spell to know it couldn’t be any later than 7:30 AM. Regardless of the time he fell asleep (which had been after midnight last night despite his long day), his body rarely let him sleep in.

Draco supposed his internal clock was working in his favor this morning. He needed to get up, get home, and shower seeing as he’d promised his mom he would help with the Women Are Wizards Too! charity event this afternoon. Everything being donated had already been set aside and was ready to go–mostly old family heirlooms she’d held onto out of a sense of familial obligation that she no longer felt fit the Manor’s aesthetic–but she wanted to do one final sweep of the Manor before leaving. If he wanted to have the task completed in a timely manner, he shouldn’t be trying to fall back asleep, but he was warm and comfortable and still very tired. Sleepiness had yet to shake itself free from his bones.

Getting up also meant leaving Harry, and he wasn’t quite ready to do that.

This thing between them was still relatively new–their friendship having evolved into something more just weeks ago–though the feelings they had for each other were old. After one late-night talk over a particularly potent bottle of fire whiskey, they’d agreed in a fit of giggles that their obsession with each other all these years had nothing to do with “hating” each other.

Had it not been for the prying eyes and nosiness that came with constantly being surrounded by their peers, he and Harry agreed they might’ve explored a relationship sooner, but life had a way of allowing things to happen when the time was right. While Draco would’ve preferred to know the feeling of Harry’s smile against his lips sooner than a few weeks ago, he was happy that he knew it now.

Though, dating outside of school came with its own challenges as well. Their schedules kept them pretty busy throughout the week, so any time they could make for each other, they did. Like last night, despite his body’s protests for sleep, he blissfully made his way over to Harry’s flat and was pleased by the greeting he received.

Before he’d even had a chance to knock on the door, Harry yanked it open and pulled him inside, wrapping his long arms and legs around his body, and peppering kisses along his face and neck. There were murmurs of “missed you” and “Godric, you’re gorgeous” as they stumbled toward the bedroom, but as soon as Draco’s back hit the mattress, whatever magic they might’ve made was put on hold.

But maybe he could make it up to him. His mother wouldn’t kill him if he was a few minutes late, and 7:30 meant he had some time to spare. He just needed another ten, fifteen, maybe twenty minutes of sleep to recharge; then he’d be right as rain . . .

The bed shifted, and he felt the weight of Harry’s gaze on him.

Without opening his eyes, he tilted his head in the Gryffindor’s direction and asked, “Are you staring at me?”

The sheets rustled. Fingers gently brushed hair off his forehead. “Maybe,” he answered, his voice still husky with sleep.

Cracking an eye open, the sunlight cast Harry in a halo of warmth. Propped up on an elbow, green eyes behind circular lenses gazed wonderfully down at him.

“Why?”

“Your bedhead is really cute.”

This wasn’t the first time they’d woken up together. They had shared a bed before as friends, having fallen asleep studying or crashed at the other’s after a long night out, but if Harry had said something like that to him before, Draco would’ve rolled his eyes and lightly pushed his shoulder, secretly hoping his words held a modicum of truth. Since they’d started dating, however, small sentiments like that always made him blush. Because Harry was impulsive and sometimes acted without thinking. He was obstinate and insisted he was right even when evidence proved otherwise. Sometimes he was indecisive, flipping between options for days before making a choice, but Harry was also compassionate and genuine. Draco had learned he never made fickle remarks about his feelings concerning them and their relationship.

Finding Harry’s fingers under the blankets, he laced them together and gave a gentle squeeze. “It’s nice that your voice was the first thing I heard this morning.”

Smiling, Harry leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. Brushing a gentle thumb across his cheek, Harry whispered, “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Anything.”

Harry shifted downward, and Draco opened his arms. Harry draped an arm across Draco’s waist and laid his head on Draco’s bare chest, curls tickling his skin. His ear settled over his heart. Draco closed his arms around Harry’s shoulders and pressed a quick kiss to the crown of his head.

Harry pressed his nose and lips into Draco’s neck and murmured against his skin, “This is the happiest I’ve been in a long time.”

Draco’s body flushed with warmth; his heart swelled with happiness. Hugging Harry closer to his chest, he said, “Me too.”

AUGUST MASTERPOST

#august 2022 #august writing prompts #harry potter #draco malfoy #drarry #fluff #i imagined this as drarry still growing up hating each other #but not because they were on opposites sides of war #just because what's life without a nemesis who you're secretly in love with #word prompt: morning light #drarry fanfic #hp fanfic #harry x draco #draco x harry

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shadyelizabeth · 2 years

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8.03. BACKPACK

Harry was annoyed. For as long as he’d been tutoring Draco, they had a routine: Mondays and Wednesdays from 6-8PM, Fridays from 2-4PM, and the occasional weekend depending on what assignments were due the following week. They would meet in a third-floor study room at the library because it was the quietest place in the library. Plus, the bathrooms up there were the nicest since they were hardly ever used.

Yet here they were, at nearly 10PM on a Tuesday, in the library basement because Draco said he was worried about the Calculus test he had in the morning and wanted another cram session. But he was barely paying attention, his eyes drifting up to each and every person who walked by. He had to repeat numerous questions two or three times before getting an answer, and after having returned from the restroom to see that Draco hadn’t even started on the practice problems Harry had left him with, he slammed the Calculus book shut.

A few heads swiveled in their direction at the sound, but Harry didn’t care.

“I don’t know where your mind is tonight, but it’s not here. I have other things I need to be doing, so I’m calling it–”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Draco grasped his forearm. “I’m sorry. You’re right, but please don’t go!”

Pulling his arm free, Harry crossed his arms across his chest and asked, “Why should I stay?”

Harry was only paid for their scheduled sessions. Meeting Draco tonight had been out of the goodness of his heart–or so he told himself. It was easier than admitting that he’d rearranged his plans to be here tonight because he maybe had a small crush on the other guy.

Not that he thought anything was going to come of it. He and Draco may have forged an unlikely friendship over the course of the semester–finding common interests and developing inside jokes during their study sessions. They even had lunch together from time to time, which never would have happened before they’d been paired together because Draco was a jock, and Harry wasn’t.

They’d had no reasons to interact before. No reasons to smile or nod or wave hello when they passed each other on the quad. No reason for Draco to throw his arm over Harry’s shoulder like he was one of his mates. No reasons to exist in each other’s orbits, but here they were, at the library, on a Tuesday night, with Harry acting more annoyed than he really was.

“I–” Draco’s grey eyes were wide as he stared at Harry, his mouth slightly agape, as if he’d been caught off guard.

Harry waited a few seconds. When Draco still didn’t continue, he lifted his eyebrows in response.

With a heavy sigh, Draco said, “Give me five more minutes, please? I’ll explain everything.”

“Fine.” Harry huffed, plopping back down in the wooden chair he’d been sitting in beside Draco, arms still crossed. “Five minutes. Start talking.”

“Thank you, Harry.”

A sincerity Harry wasn’t expecting shone in Draco’s eyes. He pulled his glasses off and quickly cleaned them with the hem of his shirt, so he’d have a reason to look away. “You’re welcome.”

“Well.” Draco cleared his throat. “I, uh, knew I was gonna have to bring this up, but I guess I thought I’d have a little bit more time before doing so.”

Settling his frames back on his nose, Harry said, “I’m all ears.”

“Okay. So.” Draco dropped his eyes, scratching the back of his neck. His cheeks were starting to turn pink, and–oh, wow. Somehow, that made him prettier, and this was a side of Draco Harry had never seen before. He was nervous, and Harry needed him to explain why before his imagination got the best of him.

WAS HE BITING HIS LIP??! Maybe he needed to help push him along.

“Drake!”

“Huh?”

“Three minutes and thirty seconds.”

“You were serious about the time limit?”

“Not really, but I will be if you don’t start talking.”

“Okay.” Draco nodded, sitting up and squaring his shoulders. He inhaled deeply through his nose, held the air in his chest for a few seconds, and exhaled through his mouth. “Can I kiss you?”

Harry blinked slowly, trying to piece together what Draco had said because he was absolutely sure he’d misheard him, but no matter how many times he replayed the moment or reworked the question, it still came out as ‘Can I kiss you?’ and that couldn’t be right.

“Harry?”

“What?”

“Can I kiss you?

So he had heard correctly. But that didn’t make sense. Draco was straight. Or maybe he wasn’t. But even if he wasn’t, he had a girlfriend. And guys with girlfriends shouldn’t be asking to kiss their academic tutor, who was also a guy, in the basement of their university library where other people could see.

Unless . . .

“Right now??” He winced internally. Not the best use of a follow-up question, but there was no turning back.

“Uhh, no.” He looked down at his watch. “In about eight minutes.”

Harry’s stomach dropped. His body went cold. Of course, this wasn’t about–

He stood straight up, grabbed his backpack from the chair, and started packing it. He couldn’t believe he’d let himself, even for a second, think that maybe, that Draco–

“Where are you going??”

“I told you if you were gonna waste my time, I was leaving. I can’t believe–” He shoved his notebook in, feeling the paper bow against the table.

“Harry.”

“I don’t even know how you–” He shimmied his laptop into its case.

“Harry, would you–”

“I don’t know why I thought that you–”

“Harry!”

Draco was suddenly on his feet. They were standing in the space between their two seats, which had already been no space at all, so it made sense why their knees bumped and why, when Harry reached for something to steady himself, his hand landed on Draco’s bicep. But it didn’t explain why Draco’s callused hands were cupping Harry’s face. Or why his thumb traced a gentle arc across his cheek. Or why Draco’s gaze flicked up from Harry’s lips right before their eyes met.

“Harry.”

“Yes?” He somehow managed, swallowing around a dry throat.

“I’ll admit, I probably coulda phrased that better, but I would really like to kiss you. However, because you didn’t say yes, I’m gonna ask you again and hope the answer will be yes this time.” Curling his fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, Draco asked, “Harry Potter, can I kiss you?”

Despite his feelings, Harry had never spent his nights entertaining the idea that his straight boy crush was suddenly going to be reciprocated.

He let himself indulge in the things he could have. He let his eyes linger a little too long when Draco wasn’t paying attention. He liked the way his nose scrunched up when he was thinking about something intensely. He swooned a little when he smiled with his whole face, his sharp canines giving him an almost wild look. And somewhere just below the edge of his consciousness, he hoped for something he’d never dare say aloud.

Which was why none of this made sense, and he was pretty sure he was awake. The coarse skin of Draco’s calluses wasn’t something he was familiar enough with in real life to replicate in his dreams.

Shaking his head, Harry said, “I’m . . . confused.”

Draco sighed through his nose, dropping his hands to Harry’s shoulders. “Yeah. That makes sense.” Trailing his hands down the length of his arms, Draco laced their fingers together. “Sit with me? Please?”

Harry gave a small nod. They sat at the same time, their knees slotting together. Draco never let go of Harry’s hands.

“Sophie and I broke up.”

“Oh,” Harry said, genuinely surprised. Draco hadn’t mentioned anything or been in any kind of mood that would’ve led him to believe they were on the verge of a breakup. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. She broke up with me. She cheated on me, actually.”

Harry felt his eyebrows draw together. “That seems like even more of a reason for me to be sorry.”

His lips curled up in a small smile. “She thought I was cheating on her.”

“Were you?”

“No, or least not in the way she was thinking. I wasn’t hooking up with someone behind her back, but I had, um, developed feelings for someone else that I’d been too afraid to actively confront but that I wasn’t shying away from either . . . Does that make sense?”

Harry nodded slowly, needing a moment to gather his thoughts.

Everything over the last few minutes–how gently he held his face, the actual fucking caress of his thumb across his cheek, the confession of feelings while staring into his eyes like he was a Disney prince–was pointing to Draco liking him back, but Harry was not ready to ask for confirmation. The answer would change everything.

“So, why–what was the thing about kissing at a certain time?”

“Oh”. Draco pulled one of his hands free and scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. “Sophie comes here to study every Tuesday night at 10, and I thought, if she saw us, she’d be–”

“Jealous?”

“No,” he answered immediately. “I mean, maybe, but that’s not what my intentions were–or are. I just thought it might be easier for her to see me–to see us–than have to explain she was kinda right when I’m still kinda figuring things out myself.”

“Okay.” Harry nodded, finally having enough information to make sense of this whole situation, but he still had a few more questions.

Turning Draco’s wrist over, the time read 9:58PM. “There are several things I think we still need to discuss that we’re not going to have time to cover before Sophie shows up, but maybe we can try? Rapid fire?”

It was a technique he used sometimes when helping Draco study terminology.

Gently squeezing Harry’s hand, he said, “Let’s go.”

“Have you ever kissed a guy before?”

“No.”

“Are you sure you want your first kiss with a guy to be here? In the library?”

“I could care less where it was, as long as it’s with you.”

Harry willed himself not to blush. “Did you know I liked you?”

“No.” He rubbed a small circle on the back of his hand. “But I started to suspect when I caught you staring at me a couple of times.”

“Oh, my g–”

“Hey,” he said, using his free hand to cup Harry’s cheek once more. Smiling softly, he continued, “It was only because I was looking back.”

Harry let himself relax into into Draco’s touch. “You said you were still figuring things out. Are you sure this is something you want? That I’m who you want to explore this part of yourself with?”

“Yes!” He smiled so wide, his face look like it was going to split in two. It might have been the most beautiful thing Harry had ever seen. “I might not be ready to label myself or march in this year’s pride parade, but I know that I like you. I like being with you, and I like how you make me feel. You are absolutely who I want to share this experience with.”

Harry liked numbers and facts. He liked when theories and hypotheses could be proven with collected and compiled data. He liked when things made sense. For all intents and purposes, he and Draco didn’t make sense, and it left him feeling warm and anxious and, surprisingly, like anything was possible. Those were not feelings he was familiar with, but he thought they were feelings he could learn to like.

Cocking an eyebrow at Draco, a smirk playing on his lips, he said, “I think I know why you’re doing so poorly at Calculus.”

“And why’s that?” he asked, playing along.

“You obviously get a little too eager and forget to show your work. All of this”–he rolled his hand in a frivolous flourish–“could’ve been avoided if you’d just started from the beginning and went step by step.”

Gently guiding Harry closer, Draco’s said, practically against his lips, “I guess that means I’ll need more tutoring. Maybe every day. Maybe twice a day, in the privacy of one of our rooms.”

“Right,” Harry said, nodding. “Can’t have all these distractions around you.”

“It’s like you’re reading my mind. Know what else I’m thinking?”

Closing the gap between them, fusing their lips together, Harry answered Draco’s question.

AUGUST MASTERPOST

#august 2022 #august writing prompts #harry potter #draco malfoy #drarry #this doesn't really have anything to do with backpacks #but once i got into it there was no turning back #harry tutors draco #first kiss #fluff #word prompt: backpack #drarry fanfic #hp fanfic #harry x draco #draco x harry

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shadyelizabeth · 2 years

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8.02. ROLLER SKATING

Draco now completely understood the phrase “Love makes you do crazy things.”

When Harry had asked if he wanted to go roller skating, Draco immediately said yes, without hesitation, even though he had no idea what it was. He just knew he would say yes to any opportunity that let him spend more time with Harry.

As soon as he got home, he pulled out his computer and began researching. He initially found pictures of Muggles wearing special shoes with wheels on the bottom of them. Some of the shoes had four wheels in a straight line while others were situated on the bottom of the shoes like wheels on a car.

Draco had never been into Muggle culture the way some of his classmates had been. Being raised in a pureblood home, he couldn’t imagine there was anything Muggles could do or create that could rival a wizard’s magical mind, but these wheely shoes had him intrigued.

He clicked over to the video tab and scrolled through the thumbnails, where he found pages and pages of videos. The previews showed everything from skaters moving gracefully over shiny hardwood floors to groups of skaters doing what looked to be choreographed routines to compilation videos of solo skaters gliding along the pavement, the expansive sky stretching behind them in the background.

They all made it look so easy, and Draco considered himself a pretty graceful person. He didn’t think he’d have any problems, but he did watch a video on roller-skating for beginners just to be safe.

Harry picked him up Saturday evening, and as they circled the parking lot looking for a spot, the music seeped through the walls and into the night. The thumping bass synced up with the beating of Draco’s heart.

He was excited (and nervous)! This was the first time he and Harry had hung out, just the two of them, and he wanted the night to go well.

When they stepped through the doors, a wave of sound hit Draco like a curse. His eyes didn’t know where to look first.

Screaming children darted left and right, some on skates and some in just socks. To the left, arcade games lined the wall. The machines flashed a rainbow of different colors. The sound effects of guns and fights and spaceships discordantly mixed in with the music being pumped through the speakers. To the right was a dining room area. Red and blue plastic-topped benches were haphazardly scattered across the floor, and when Draco took a deep breath, he recognized the distinct smell of warm bread and hot cheese.

The roller rink extended in front of them. Just like in the videos, colorful lights reflected off the polished, hardwood floor. Skaters of all ages made lazy laps while others danced along to the music, making what seemed like impossible moves look easy, and there was even a disco ball in the middle of the ceiling, spinning slowly and twinkling like an artificial star.

“Come on!” Harry grabbed Draco’s hand and led him across the concrete floor to the rental counter.

They joined the queue behind a small group of people, watching two friends race across the floor, bobbing and weaving around the other patrons, while they waited. When they got to the front of the line, the pink-haired teen asked for their sizes, before disappearing into the shelves of cubbies. When he returned, he handed them their skates and said, “Enjoy!” in a tone that suggested he didn’t really mean it.

They found an empty bench and began to swap their shoes for skates. Harry made quick work of the transfer while Draco had a bit of difficulty with the laces.

“Need some help?”

Looking down at what he hadn’t achieved, he nodded. Harry double-tapped his thighs. Draco placed one wheeled shoe in his lap quickly followed by the other. When Harry was finished, he gently squeezed Draco’s calf and asked with excited eyes, “You ready?”

Draco nodded enthusiastically. Swinging his legs back down to the floor, he placed both skates flat on the ground, pushed up off the bench, and floundered. Despite the weight of the skates, he felt untethered. His arms reached out for anything to grab onto. Harry was suddenly in front of him, catching him before he could fall.

An eyebrow arched up over his glasses. “You’ve never done this before, have you?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Besides looking like a newborn giraffe, the terror on your face suggested you don’t know what it’s like to hit the floor. Even if it had been a while since you’d skated, you’d know it’s not as bad as it seems.”

Draco gave him a sheepish look. “Sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“No need to apologize! I’ll just have to show you the ropes! First rule”–he tipped his skates forward, balancing on the knobs on the front–“this is how you stop. Go ahead and give it a try–while you’re sitting down! Lean forward to feel how your weight feels against it.”

He nodded, feeling more grounded.

“Now”–he held out hands–“take my hands.”

Draco hesitated, looking at Harry’s outstretched hands. Obviously, he was offering his hands for educational purposes and not romantic ones, but still. Their hands would be interlocked. Their fingers could possibly intertwine, and Draco wasn’t sure he’d be able to survive it.

“Alright?” Harry asked.

“Oh! Yes!” Trying to turn off his brain, Draco clasped Harry’s hands.

“I want you to try standing up. Keep your knees slightly bent, but not too much. Like an obtuse angle–Yes!–and your core tight to keep yourself balanced . . . How does that feel?”

His eyes followed Draco as he, not so steadily, got to his feet. Even though Harry looked please, Draco did not want to see what he looked like to a bystander. He just knew he looked ridiculous, like the aforementioned baby giraffe but not as cute . . . but Harry was still holding his hands and had all of his attention on him so it wasn’t all bad.

“Perfect! Now, you’re gonna move. I want you to hold your left foot as still as you possibly can and push off and out with your right foot and then repeat with your left.”

Following Harry’s instructions, he locked his left leg in place and pushed off with his right, but he must have pushed too far because Harry’s hands tightened on his. His skate blocked the trajectory of Draco’s before it could go too far.

“Sorry. I shoulda said push off with your right foot gently.”

He tried again, successfully not almost falling into a split this time.

“Good! You think you’re ready for the rink?”

Shaking his head, he said, “Probably not. Promise you won’t let go?”

With a soft smile, Harry said, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Inch by inch, they scooted toward the opening in the barrier wall that separated the rink from the recreation area. They waited for some experienced skaters to pass them by before stepping over the threshold.

Once on the floor, they continued to inch along the wall. Draco held onto the barrier with one hand and Harry with the other, who, true to his word, stayed by his side. Skaters, both young and old, zoomed by going all different directions. He could feel a burst of air every time someone passed. When the barrier gave way to nothing but wall, his grip tightened on Harry, either grabbing fistfuls of the back of his shirt or hanging onto his shoulders as Harry skated lazily in front of him. It would have almost been romantic had his knees not been threatening to buckle under him.

After a few successful laps, Harry asked, “You wanna try it by yourself?”

Feeling confident (and self-conscious about not having let go of Harry once in the last fifteen minutes), Draco said, “Yes, but stay close.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Harry turned so he was skating backward in front of him. Their movements synchronized. When Draco’s right foot glided forward, Harry’s left foot slid back. They slowly continued their dance, back and forth, forward and back, until he’d completed one successful rotation.

“I did it!” Draco threw his hands up in the air which he knew was a mistake as he did it.

Losing his balance once again, he began to spiral backward, shuffling his feet as he tried not to fall, when he suddenly remembered his brakes and leaned his weight forward. But the sudden change in momentum had him crashing into Harry, who was thankfully solid and unmoving.

“Ughhh!” Draco groaned, his hand bunching in the material of Harry’s t-shirt. Harry’s hands went to the small of Draco’s back to keep them steady. “I’m so sorry!”

“No more apologizing!”

Draco grinned up at him in a boyish way, all twinkly eyes and toothy. He knew his nose and cheeks were probably rosy from exertion, and a few strands of his hair had fallen free from his ponytail. He tried shaking them out of his face, but it was no use.

Harry reached up with his free hand to tuck the hair behind his ear, and to stop himself from saying something utterly ridiculous, he said, “How did you get so good at this?!”

“What? Saving you? Years of practice!”

Draco rolled his eyes, but he’s not sure if Harry saw it because, in the blink of an eye, he’d switched positions and wrapped one arm around Draco’s waist. It was different from when he’d been holding him steady. This was intentional. To say that Draco was thankful for the low lights would be an understatement. As soon as he felt the heat from Harry’s hand seep through the thin material of his shirt, he knew his face flushed crimson.

“I ran away from the Dursleys once!” he started. “I didn’t have any money, so I didn’t get far. I got a few neighborhoods away when I ran into some kids who were skating. When they saw me watching them, this kid named Tommy let me borrow his skates and showed me the ropes.

“We spent hours that day just hanging out and having fun. For a few hours, I was free and able to forget my shitty life. At least until Vernon’s car pulled up, and then it was back to reality.

“Ever since, roller skating has always given me a sense of freedom. There’s nothing else quite like it in the Muggle world, where I can just glide along and leave my worries behind me.”

They continued to lazily skate and talk. Harry’s hand never left his waist, and for those many moments of bliss, Draco understood what Harry had meant about leaving his worries behind him.

As the night began to wind down, the DJ called for couples skating. Even though his legs were tired, Draco wasn’t ready to call it quits, but he didn’t want to assume that Harry’s touch and attention had been anything more than companionship and increased precautions. When Harry asked if he wanted to keep going, it took Draco a few tries to say yes.

Harry gave him a knowing smile and tightened his grip. With his strong hand holding him steady, he didn’t falter once.

At the end of the last song, Harry switched his hold on Draco from his waist to his hand. They skated over to retrieve their shoes; he didn’t let go until they sat down.

Neither of them said anything as they made quick work of the exchange, but their shoulders gently bumped, and they kept throwing smiles each other’s way. As they made their way toward the exit, their hands found each other again, their fingers lacing together, like magnets being pulled together.

The closer they got to Harry’s car, the more Draco wondered what was going to happen next. Was Harry going to drive him home and thank him for hanging out with him tonight? Were they to get inside and leave? Act like the last hour of their lives hadn’t happened? Was there to be a kiss included in the conclusion of their evening? And if so, would he have to initiate it himself? Would he even be brave enough–

Harry pushed Draco up against the passenger door with both hands on his hips. Draco’s breath caught in his throat at the sudden change of direction and his eyes half-lidded with lust.

“I’m going to kiss you now. If you’d like.” His eyes barely flick up from his mouth.

“Yes. Please.” Draco knows he sounds needy but doesn’t care.

The pad of Harry’s thumb brushed over the bare skin of Draco’s hip just before their lips met. The kiss was soft and sweet and agonizingly slow, their mouths brushing together over and over, learning the shape of each other’s mouths and the curves of each other’s moans.

Draco would have happily drowned in Harry, but his lungs demanded he come up for air.

Kissing the underside of his jaw, Harry said, “I shoulda done that sooner.”

Head spinning, Draco was unsure how he managed to say, “Please feel free to make up for lost time.”

Harry snorted and pressed his lips to Draco’s once more. “I know this little late-night cafe in Essex that serves fresh biscuits and hot tea all night. Care to join me?”

“Absolutely.”

AUGUST MASTERPOST

#august 2022 #august writing prompt #harry potter #draco malfoy #drarry #this also wasn't supposed to be this long #gotta work on being more succint #word prompt: roller skating #drarry fanfic #hp fanfic #harry x draco #draco x harry

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shadyelizabeth · 2 years

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8.01. SUNGLASSES

Draco loved sunglasses. He thought they might have been the best thing Muggles had ever invented–assuming they were a Muggle invention. He honestly didn’t care enough to do the research to find out, but if he ever met the person who invented them, Draco would shower them with high praise.

He loved that they protected his pale eyes from the sun.

Draco had never been one for being in the sun for too long anyway. His delicate skin would burn like paper to a flame after mere minutes of exposure. He limited his time outside as much as possible, but being a functioning member of society meant seeing the light of day for longer than five minutes at a time.

He loved that a big enough pair and a hat could lend him anonymity.

Though the war had been over for close to five years now and Draco had been acquitted and completed his probation without any offenses, some people would always see him as a Death Eater. He didn’t blame them or get angry or try to persuade them that he’d only been following orders, that he was nowhere near the same person he’d been under his father’s vile thumb. Instead, he made it easier and hid in plain sight.

But what he loved most about sunglasses is that, when he was out in public, he could people watch from behind them without anyone knowing.

On this particular occasion, he’d allowed Pansy to drag him to some outdoor charity event being held on the Quidditch Pitch at Hogwarts. After making the expected rounds and saying the obligatory “Hellos” and “How are yous”, Draco found a nice, shaded corner and parked himself there. He hadn’t been back to school since he’d finished his eighth year. At the time, there’d been many who would have rather seen him dead than graduate. As soon as he’d received his certification, he’d made himself scarce.

Old habits, sometimes, died hard.

Part of what had gotten him into people-watching in the first place was the loneliness and isolation he’d felt. Seeing colleagues meet for a business lunch or a couple out on a date made him feel, in a weird way, connected. Maybe he wasn’t part of the conversation, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t create his own. Draco would often make up backstories and dialogue based on their clothes and the expressions they made when they talked.

Was it creepy? Maybe, but everyone copes differently.

There were a few people he’d become highly invested in. At the coffee shop he frequented, there was a witch who came in every morning at 9AM sharp, like clockwork. She wore a variation of the same suit every day–a blazer buttoned right over her belly button, a matching pencil skirt, with kitten heels–just in different colors. She would order a large black coffee in a to-go cup and then sit at the high-top bar affixed to the front window. Within ten to fifteen minutes of her arrival, someone–as far as Draco had seen, it was always a different person–would enter the shop and approach her. They would talk for a few minutes more; the person would hand her a parcel wrapped in heavy brown paper and then leave.

He imagined the packages she received were manuscripts and that the woman was part of some elusive, underground publishing group. The parcels were always delivered by different carriers, so no one ever figured out what each parcel consisted of, and they were wrapped to protect against bias. He knew that if he, a former Death Eater, tried to tell his side of the story through a memoir, it would’ve probably been thrown in the bin before seeing a publisher’s desk.

Sunday mornings, before going to the market to shop for the week, Draco would stop at a local patisserie for a late breakfast, and every Sunday, for about two months, by the time he arrived, two wizards would be sitting at one of the outside tables, under a large dandelion yellow umbrella about halfway through their meal.

From the outside, they were about as diametrically different as they come. One of them could have been a long-lost Weasley with his thick red hair and smattering of freckles. If he hadn’t been intimately familiar with the whole Weasley clan, he would have offered to make introductions. The other wizard was African American with dreadlocks piled on top of his head and eyes as dark as night. At first glance, anyone might’ve assumed they were friends out catching a bite to eat. Their relaxed postures and the ease of their conversation suggested unspoken affection.

Draco initially pegged them as two old friends who, after years apart, were making up for lost time, but the more he watched, the more he realized their relationship went deeper than that. On one occasion, a gust of wind blew the long tablecloth to the side, and he caught their feet entangled together, big smiles still on their faces. On another, when walking past their table, he saw the redhead pull his fingers back from where they’d been touching the tips of his companions.

That moment had left him with mixed emotions. His heart warmed at the sight of this couple, so completely enamored with each other, sitting in the sun, enjoying a sweet treat and time together, but he hated that they still lived in a world where they didn’t feel comfortable enough to express their love openly. It made him mourn the possibility of ever being able to openly love another man himself.

Though, it wasn’t as if he had many prospects. The only person who knew he was gay was Pansy, and the one person he wanted (and loved to watch the most) was the one person he could never have.

It probably wouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone that Draco was obsessed with Harry Potter and had been since before the day they’d met.

The way the wizarding world had so famously and admirably talked about “The Boy Who Lived”, he couldn’t help but think that the boy who had defeated the Dark Lord while only a baby would make an exceptional ally. That was until Harry had snubbed him on their first day outside the Great Hall.

Everything had been all downhill from there. The mocking and the sneers, the fighting and the opposition. He was a Slytherin, and Harry a Gryffindor. There could be no peace, but that was okay with Draco. While it might not have been the attention he wanted from Harry, anything that got those green eyes looking at him was a win in his book.

But the impending war meant things couldn’t remain as simple as antagonizing each other in the corridors. Sides were taken and lines were drawn. Harry went on the run, and as much as he was supposed to hate the other boy and what he stood for, Draco found himself more worried than anything. It was then that Draco began to realize that the animosity he’d felt for Harry might not have been animosity at all. Seeing Harry dead had only confirmed it.

Once the war had ended, Draco hadn’t known what the future would look like for him. In the end, he’d chosen the wrong side, and in the aftermath of the Dark Lord’s terror, there was so much physical and emotional debris to be dealt with. He’d been preparing to be locked away in Azkaban with his parents, but much to his surprise (and delight), Harry had, once again, swooped in and saved the day, which only intensified Draco’s obsession.

To say he stalked Harry would not have been a false claim. During his house arrest, he read any and every article he could get his hands on that mentioned him. When they returned for their eighth year, Draco may have been happier than most that all eighth years were housed together rather than split back up into houses, and in the years that followed, maybe Draco made it a habit to frequent the same places Harry and his friends did, close enough to see the range of emotions flicker over his beautiful face but far enough away not to be recognized, sunglasses perched high on his nose.

Today��s charity event was no different. His eyes expertly scanned his surroundings until they landed on the former boy wonder. His shaggy hair, which usually fell forward into his eyes, was held back from his face with a thin headband. He wore a white short sleeve button-up that hugged the curves of his biceps and navy blue trousers that Draco knew probably made his butt look amazing.

Harry had gotten proper fit over the years, and while Draco would have preferred to be up close and personal, the view from afar was still very nice.

As usual, he was flanked by Ron and Hermione, but Luna floated gracefully beside him, hands waving and eyes wide as spoke, her long blonde hair trailing behind her. They stopped at a booth specializing in tinctures, giving their undivided attention to the witch behind the table.

“You know–”

He jumped. The voice spoke right into his ear. Pansy slid into the chair next to him, a glass of lemonade in her hand.

“You’re not fooling anyone.”

“Excuse me?” he said, not taking his eyes off Harry.

“You”–she fluttered her hand arbitrarily–“sitting here, alone, trying to be all cool and assuming. Your eyes might be covered, but your head is always angled his way. If you’re trying to be discreet, you’re gonna wanna try harder,” she said, taking a long sip of her drink.

He could feel heat rise in his cheeks and knew it had nothing to do with the warm weather.

Turning to look at her, he said, “I was just–”

“What? Pining over Harry frickin Potter?! I know! If the bloody git were more observant, he’d know too! You’re not exactly subtle, Draco.

“When do you think you’ll chalk up the nerve to talk to him?”

He scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous, Pansy. I couldn’t. I can’t. He’s–he’s him, and I’m me.”

“Brilliant argument, Draco,” Pansy deadpanned. “So brilliant, in fact”–her face quickly morphed into a smirk–“that we should test it. See if you two are still so truly incompatible.”

“What does that–”

Before he could finish asking, Pansy was on her feet, yelling, “Oh, Harry!”

Instinctively, Draco ducked. If he’d thought quick enough, he would have apparated away, but Harry’s eyes turned toward them at the sound of his name.

“Pansy, what in the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?!” he said through clenched teeth.

Ignoring his question, she said, in the fakest saccharine tone, “When you’re finished, would you mind coming over here for a moment? We just need a minute of your time!”

“Pansy!”

Harry turned back to his friend group, assumedly excusing himself, before he started making his way over.

Pansy’s hazel eyes cut to Draco; her ruby red lips turned up in a wicked grin. “Don’t say I never did anything for you, Draco.”

“I’m going to kill you,” he said, looking for an escape route. There was nowhere for him to go that wouldn’t make it blatantly obvious that he was running away.

Harry was about halfway to them.

“Fuck the Killing Curse. I’m going to do it the Muggle way. Slow and excruciatingly painful, removing body parts piece by piece.”

“You’ll thank me later.”

Harry was about ten meters away.

Resigned to his fate, he said just low enough for Pansy to hear, “If this somehow does work out, I’ll make sure to give your corpse a proper burial instead of throwing it in the dumpster where you belong.”

Pansy’s eyes were bright with delight just as Harry approached their table. Draco straightened in his seat, hoping his silk shirt hadn’t wrinkled.

Harry’s eyes bounce back and forth between the two of them. With a nod, he said, “Pansy. Draco. What can I do for ya?”

“Potter!” Pansy said with a bit too much enthusiasm. “How are you? How have you been? Would you care to take a seat?”

Draco began to think of all the ways he was going to make Pansy suffer–ripping each fingernail out one by one, disembowelment, electrocution, and more.

He looked like he wanted to protest, but instead, pulled out the chair across from them, and sat.

“I’m doing well, thanks for asking. How are you?” He faced Draco directly. “And you, Draco? I feel like I haven’t seen you around lately.”

Draco thought Harry’s voice softened when he spoke to him.

“I’m–”

“I’m great! Draco’s great! Everything is great!” Pansy cut him off before he could answer. “I asked you over here because Draco and I were having a little disagreement, and we thought, who better to settle it than Harry Potter himself.”

“Uhh.” He chuckled, scratching the side of his head. The muscles in his arms bulged with the movement. “Okay. What’s the question?”

“Draco, here: hot or not?”

Draco’s mouth dropped wide open. Out of all the reckless things Pansy could have said, that was the last thing he was expecting. She’d always had a tendency to be inconsiderate, but this was taking it a step too far.

“You’re dead. Your body will be unrecognizable by the time I’m done with you.”

“Pish posh.” She waved him away with a dismissive hand. “Let the man answer the question.”

“Harry, you don’t–you don’t have to answer that.” He was more than thankful for this the sunglasses and the shade, barely able to look in Harry’s direction. He hoped his face wasn’t as hot as his body felt because he wanted to melt into the shadows and slither away. “Pansy is just being an arse.”

“That’s what friends are for, right?”

Harry’s tone was jovial, and, of course, he was making light of the situation. What else was he supposed to do when having just been asked if he thought his former foe was hot? It wasn’t like this was anything other than a joke to him. It wasn’t like he’d been waiting for an opening to express his feelings.

“I don’t think I can accurately answer the question, though, without being able to see your full face. Would you mind taking off your glasses, Draco?”

Wordlessly, Draco removed his sunglasses from his face, blinking to let his eyes adjust to the afternoon sun.

Harry’s gaze trailed slowly upward from his feet. Draco tried not to fidget or squirm under his stare, as if his eyes were lightly caressing his skin. Harry took a long look over his torso, biting his lip along the way, causing Draco to, momentarily, forget how to breathe.

When their eyes finally met, a small smile flitted at the corner of Harry’s lips. “Stunning is more like it.”

From that day forward, Draco only wore sunglasses when absolutely necessary.

AUGUST MASTERPOST

#august 2022 #august writing prompts #harry potter #draco malfoy #drarry #this wasn't supposed to be this long #*shrugs*#off to a weird start #word prompt: sunglasses #drarry fanfic #hp fanfic #harry x draco #draco x harry

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