For The @drarrymicrofic Prompt: Beguile, November 9th 2021

For the @drarrymicrofic prompt: Beguile, November 9th 2021

Rating: T, Words: 319

“Fancy seeing you here.” Draco attempts a casual and approachable smile as he slides up to Harry at the bar. 

“Go away Malfoy,” Harry grumbles. Draco watches as he knocks back the shot in front of him. The rainbow light from the dance floor glints off of the delicate curve of Harry’s jaw and he watches his throat as it undulates. Draco wants to touch him so badly his hands shake. He clasps them tightly under the bar where Harry can’t see them. 

“I heard you got information from Kingsley on the coveted dragon case,” He adds, trying to sound conversational and not at all bitter. 

“Oh Draco, jealousy doesn’t look good on you,” Harry responds softly. Draco’s eyes narrow as he watches Harry’s left hand drift down to his back pocket. There poking out is a thick wad of parchment. Really, Draco thinks,  Harry should know better than to wander around with important information sticking out where anyone could grab it. He steps closer moving his legs to bracket Harry on either side. 

“Let me buy you a drink.” He says slowly watching the way Harry’s eyes flicker across his lips. 

“Oh fuck off,” Harry responds refusing to meet his eyes. 

Forget the drink, Draco thinks. He crowds into Harry’s space and uses his pale broad hand to cup Harry’s cheek. He leans in and their lips brush. Suddenly they’re kissing and Draco wants Harry in bed spread out beneath him. He wants him so much he bites down on his lip until he tastes metal. 

His head swimming, he commands himself to focus. Carefully he skims Harry’s waist with his hand before reaching further back. His long fingers twist against parchment and then he’s ripping away. Their gazes tangle for a second and Harry looks wrecked, his irises blown out and dark against his tanned skin. Draco forces himself to turn. Gasping for breath he pushes into the crowd, vanishing. 

I love this microfic so much! It speaks about so much in so few words. Reading it really inspired me 💜💚

salt

a mini-gift for @gryffindorhearts for a small victory; GH said "must include salt" cw alcohol/veela magic

Malfoy tastes like salt and lemon, like tequila on my teeth and the music’s pulse in my feet. “Dance with me,” I beg, my hips in his hands.

His skin is Veela-silver in the neon buzz as he pushes me away. “It’s the Allure,” he claims.

But if it were only that, I wouldn’t want him in daylight too.

Azkaban Escape 

Drarry Microfic, Rating: G, Words: 220

“You’re sleeping with Malfoy,” Hermione says, looking at Harry pointedly over the breakfast table.

“What?” Harry’s frozen in his seat, toast halfway to his mouth. His face is pale, guilty. He knows he’s always been a bad liar, so this is about to be the performance of his lifetime. He loves Hermione, loves her to death, and  obviously he’s fine with her knowing all of his secrets. All of his secrets except this one of course. 

“You. Have been sleeping. With Malfoy,” Hermione says slowly glaring at him. 

“I don’t understand,” Harry carefully sets his toast down on the plate in front of him. “Malfoy’s in Azkaban.”  

“Well,” Hermione draws out the word like she’s waiting for him to interrupt. “He was in Azkaban.” 

Watching his face carefully, she passes him yesterday's newspaper. The cover reads: Death Eater on the Loose: Draco Malfoy Escapes Azkaban in the Dead of Night. 

“Oh,” says Harry gazing at the paper. He widens his eyes and tries to look surprised, or enraged, or whatever he would have looked like if this had happened when he was a school-kid. “That’s too bad I guess.” 

“You’re sooo believable,” Hermione scoffs at him. She moves the paper slightly and gestures to one of the security camera photos at the bottom of the page. “Care to explain yourself?”

attic ephemera

This is for @drarrymicrofic​ prompt: ephemera

Rating: G, Words: 440

Read on ao3

Harry’s cleaning out the attic when he finds the letter. The cream paper is wrinkled and worn, like it’s been crumpled in a ball and thrown away, only to be rescued at the last minute. He assumes it belongs to one of Sirius’s ancestors. After all, everything he’s found so far has. 

The room is chock-full of legal documents and wedding certificates. All hundreds of years old. Nothing Harry cares about. He glances at the letter in his hand and is tempted to chuck it in the throw-away pile to the left without even looking at it, but he stops himself at the last minute. Signing, he reminds himself that he doesn’t want to accidentally throw away anything important. 

He presses the delicate paper flat against his thigh and unfolds it quickly, not wanting to waste time on a silly old letter. He holds it up to the thin light drifting through the dusty window and squints, trying to make out the tightly scrawled cursive. Something catches in his chest, the font looks almost familiar. His eyes skip over the text searching for a signature. When he reaches it, he freezes. His heart turns to stone in his chest. There clear as day scrawled hurriedly on the bottom of the parchment is the name Draco Malfoy. 

Harry sits in silence for what feels like several minutes. His breath catches in his chest, it feels almost painful to breathe. Suddenly he’s back three years sitting at Draco’s trial. Watching the way his grey eyes shutter when they sentence him. 

Harry shakes himself. Focuses on the hard wooden floor beneath him. Focuses on the way the weak sunlight falls through the window. Focuses on the texture of the parchment beneath his fingers. When he can finally breathe out, calm and steady, he shakes himself. His eyes quickly flick to the heading of the letter. There in the same scrawled ink the letter opens with Dear, Severus Snape. 

For a second Harry feels almost let down, because of course Malfoy had communicated with Snape during the war, everyone knew that. He sits still for a second feeling silly. 

Then, because he can’t quite help himself he starts to read the contents of the letter. About five sentences in Harry’s heart start to race. This is no normal communication he’s dealing with. Laid out in careful calligraphy are details of intricate battle plans and lists of weaknesses. 

Harry leans back on his heels, his whole world tiling on its axis. If he's reading correctly Draco wasn’t on the wrong side of the war. In fact, Draco might be one of the reasons they won.

escape

Harry’s least favorite part about being an Auror was arresting Draco Malfoy. He got arrested quite a lot. Probably every couple months. About once a year Harry was the one to do it.

Every time Draco escaped the arrest paperwork got more extensive and paperwork was Harry’s least favorite part of his job. Anyways, it wasn’t like the paperwork kept Draco locked up Harry thought aggressively as he stared down at the form in front of him. It asked him to describe Draco’s personality. Harry scoffed, like Draco’s personality was why he was so good at escaping. It wasn’t like he had a boyfriend with all the keys and a map of the ministry tunnel system or anything.

Harry pushed himself away from the desk leaning back in his chair and sighed. It was frustrating not being able to take credit for his own work. Draco Malfoy wasn’t the next Harry Houdini. He was just a stupid blonde git with a highly capable boyfriend.

In her rush to work Pansy hasn’t actually done a great job hiding the paper, it's spread out invitingly along the granite countertop. Draco rushes to it, his heart fluttering with dread. After-all, it couldn’t be anything good, could it? Anything like Harry Potter says He is Still in Love With Draco Malfoy or, Harry Potter Begs Draco to Take Him Back? With a quick flick of his wrist Draco snaps the paper closed. His gaze flicks to the photograph in front of him and he stumbles slightly, catches his balance on the countertop.

His head feels strange and hazy and there spread out before him is a picture of Harry, his Harry. All tousled black curls and blushing cheeks and dark eyes irises blown wide. But the photograph is all wrong because there, wrapped up in Harry’s arms where Draco should be, is Ginny. The headline reads Potter-Weasley: A Romance Rekindled? There’s no mention of Draco. It’s like he never even existed.

Draco’s knees suddenly feel weak and he lets his body sink to the floor. He turns, letting his back rest against the hard wood of the kitchen cabinets. He can’t quite wrap his head around it. He’d thought Harry might marry him. He’d never imagined himself here hungover and sad, waiting for an apology where there wouldn’t ever be one.

One of my fav excerpts from my new fic How to Say Goodbye