Guide To My Blog

Guide To My Blog

Welcome! My name is Ravena. My pronouns are she/they, and my house is Slytherin. I’ve read fanfic for a long time but I’ve only recently felt confident to start writing my own. Since I’m new to writing I love hearing feedback on all my works! You can find my writing on my blog by searching #ravenawrote and my longer fics linked bellow :) Hope you enjoy reading!! Also please feel free to send in prompts using my asks, I love love love prompts and am always excited to write new things and challenge myself!

Fanfic: Regulus Black x James Potter 

when you go (leave your shadow behind) (WIP) (M) Summary: The door opens and the light from the hall pours through, illuminating a silhouette. Regulus feels the air freeze in his lungs as he tracks his gaze frantically over rumpled brown hair and wide eyes.

“James!? What are you doing here?” His voice comes out a croak, cracked and an octave too low. Hesitantly he steps closer only to find himself twisted backwards and slammed violently against the wall.

“I’m not James.” The boy says roughly, his green eyes flashing as he jabs his wand directly into Regulus’s neck. “James is dead.”

what a shame (2.4K) (M)

Regulus can’t look away from him. James is watching him searchingly, wonder in his warm eyes, beautiful, even red rimmed and desperate.

Regulus wants to take him home. He wants to grab Jame’s face and press their lips together so gently that James will forget his own name, will forget the war, will forget every time he’s pulled his hand away and left Regulus's palm empty.

He wants to take him to bed. He wants James so bad he bites down on his tongue until he tastes metal. He wants to crawl inside his body and pry his way under his ribcage, fingers cradling his heart. He wants to hear it beat against him forever. Safe.

Regulus wants to touch him so bad his hands shake.

Fanfic: Draco Malfoy x Harry Potter

Inexplicable Things (34.8K) (E) Summary: No way, no way in hell. Draco is supposed to be in France or America or, wherever else he’d deemed more important than Harry when he left five years ago. Draco is not supposed to be showing up at the DMLE out of the blue, forcing Harry to watch him as he struts confidently across the room towards him.

How to Say Goodbye (7.3K) (T) Summary: Harry dumps him. Draco copes. 

Infiltrate the Slytherins (8.9K) (T) Summary: Ron & Blaise started a liquor business. Blaise moved in. Slytherins took over the sitting room. Harry didn't know how to feel about any of it.

Bonded (16K) (T) Summary: Harry gets assigned the most boring Auror case in the world with the most horrible partner. Featuring a certain blonde nemesis, ancient magic bonds, a dragon, and a little too much Pansy/Hermione love (in Harry’s opinion).

Boy with a Dragon Tattoo (4K) (T) Summary: Draco and Harry get drunk at a party. Banter and kissing ensues.

Fanfic: Harry Styles x Louis Tomlinson

Falling (1.6K) (M) Summary: Louis has avidly avoided listening to Harry’s new album for so long. Now, it’s chosen to ambush him in a grocery store.

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.

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.

Inexplicable Things

Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Harry Potter/Theodore Nott, Ginny Weasley/Blaise Zabini

Summary: No way, no way in hell. Draco is supposed to be in France or America or, wherever else he’d deemed more important than Harry when he left five years ago. Draco is not supposed to be showing up at the DMLE out of the blue, forcing Harry to watch him as he struts confidently across the room towards him.

Rating: Explicit

Read on Ao3 

Chapter 1 

When Harry steps into the lobby of the DMLE he freezes for a second. To the untrained eye it would mean nothing, a quick pause in his steps, but as Theo makes eye contact with him and wiggles his eyebrows significantly before looking back at the man talking to Kingsley, Harry knows he’s just been caught out.

Who’s to blame him really, Harry thinks as he smirks and saunters over to Theo. Wouldn’t anyone stop and stare for a moment when confronted with broad shoulders and lean legs and a messy plait of golden blonde hair that juxtaposes perfectly with a crisp black suit? He pushes himself up onto Theo’s desk and cheerfully swings his legs back and forth.

“You’ll never guess who the new staff is,” Theo says mischievously, a small grin on his face.

“There’s new staff?” Harry responds blandly, more focused on watching the man facing Kingsley. He finds the gentle shift of his muscles under his suit a bit hypnotic.

“Yes, remember? Kingsley told us yesterday?” Theo asks. His eyes flick between Harry and the conversation happening across the room. “Don’t tell me you weren’t listening again.”

“I might not have been listening.” Harry admits cheerfully. “Is it him?” He gestures casually.

“Yes,” Theo responds. His eyes glint like he’s keeping a secret.

“Great!” Harry hops off of Theo’s desk. “Then I guess we should introduce-” He cuts himself off as the man shifts away from Kingsley and turns towards them because suddenly, everything is not great. In fact, suddenly everything is the opposite of great and the air in his lungs feels like it’s turned to ice. He grips the side of Theo’s desk in an attempt to steady himself because there, striding towards him, is Draco Malfoy.

And what? No way, no way in hell. Because Draco is supposed to be in France or America. Or, wherever else he’d deemed more important than Harry when he left five years ago. Draco is not supposed to be showing up at the DMLE out of the blue, forcing Harry to look at him, to be in the same room with him. Didn’t Draco know that Harry had been so in love with him he couldn't see a way out? How could he just show up here without so much as a warning? Harry lets go of the desk and clenches his fists. The DMLE is his territory and if it’s up to him Draco will be long gone-

“Hey are you okay?” Theo interrupts his thoughts in a hushed voice.

“Yes, fine,” Harry says, attempting airy and landing on a slightly shrill.

Theo looks at him pointedly and opens his mouth to fire off what Harry assumes will be a series of highly intrusive questions. Harry watches as Kingsley directs Draco towards them and knows that extreme measures have to be taken. He stomps down heavily on Theo’s foot.

“Oww, Merlin's Beard Harry!” Theo exclaims loudly. Harry smirks a little. Theo jabs him hard in the stomach in retaliation and by the time Kingsley and Draco reach them they're both doubled over in pain. Not the most dignified way to see the first boy to ever break his heart, Harry reflects, but at least he’d avoided Theo’s questions. He straightens up facing Kingsley and does his best to avoid Draco’s searching eyes.

“Sorry about that Shacklebolt,” He says professionally. He hopes Kingsley can’t hear the note of pain in his voice. “How can I help you?”

“Well,” Kingsley pauses, looking back and forth between them, his eyebrow raised in amusement, “I was wondering if one of you could finish showing around our new potions consultant. I’ve got a meeting at 10 and unfortunately we’ve only just managed to cover the lobby.”

“Oh, sure. Of course we can,” Theo offers before Harry can step on his foot again. “I can’t believe I haven’t seen you since-” he winces a little, “the war I guess. When I got back from eighth year abroad you’d already left. How’ve you been?”

“Fine,” Draco responds, tight lipped, “Happy to be back in London I guess. I missed my friends.” He’s looking everywhere but Harry. Underneath his suit jacket his shoulders look tense and rigid. The tendons in his cheeks are clenched tight. At least Draco isn’t completely unaffected by Harry’s presence, which means he remembers too. Remembers the harsh stolen kisses in stoney alcoves, remembers the way he’d left Harry, creeping out at night like a coward, leaving Harry to wake up in a pool of cold sheets chest already aching.

Harry forces a breath out of his chest and focuses back on the conversation in front of him. Draco’s explaining the potion work he’d just finished in America before the DMLE had specifically requested his presence in London. And fuck, there goes Harry’s plan of getting him fired within the first day doesn’t it? He leans into Theo’s arm for a second to steady himself. Draco’s steely gray eyes track his movement, watching how Theo relaxes himself against Harry, then narrow.

“Alright, well let's get this show on the road shall we?” Theo asks cheerfully, seemingly unaware of the tension between the two men. He must be pretending, there’s no way a highly trained Auror like him could have missed it.

As Theo ushers Draco forward, toward the Auror offices he glances behind him and raises his eyes at Harry only confirming his expectations. Harry sighs, preparing himself for future interrogation. He’s never told anyone about Draco. Wherever they had between each other had felt inexplicable, something large and unfathomable, completely terrifying to put into words. So he hadn’t, and then Draco had left and it hadn’t mattered anymore.

In front of him Theo is explaining the fingerprint system they use to enter the offices. Draco leans forward cautiously to press his finger against the mechanism. Harry pretends not to notice as a piece of hair falls from his braid and drapes across his tanned face. He looks so different now, like someone’s taken a picture of him and added a filter. His hair's no longer silver, it's streaked with a darker shade of blonde and he looks like he’s been spending lots of time in the sun. He bends further forward to get a better look at the door device and Harry thinks he catches a glimpse of a tattoo peaking its way out of his shirtsleeve.

“Harry,” Theo calls, breaking into his thoughts, “I’ve programmed Draco into the system so we can head in now.”

Harry forces his feet forward towards the offices. When he pushes himself through the door he finds Theo waiting for him as Draco ambles over to the oak door marked D. Malfoy. It’s just Harry’s luck that it’s right next to his.

“You’re really due for an explanation later mate,” Theo hisses at him under his breath. “It’s hard for me to believe that your childhood nemesis could throw you off this much.”

Harry shrugs him off silently and continues forward striding over to where Draco is pushing open his heavy wood door.

“Why are you here?” He whispers softly into Draco’s ear. He smirks as he watches Draco’s body twitch a little in surprise.

“What do you mean?” Draco responds, slow and innocent, his eyes wide, “I work here. Kingsley told you.”

“Yeah I know.” Harry pauses, irritated, “I mean why do you work HERE when I’m sure there’s hundreds of other places you could work and not subject me to looking at your ugly face every single day.” He shoves himself closer up into Draco’s space and is dismayed to find Draco’s grown taller than him in their time apart. Looking up into his eyes makes Harry's throat go dry. He ignores it.

“What are you going to do now?” Draco smirks down at him in cold amusement, “Pee on the floor to mark your territory like a dog? Contrary to popular belief, being the Savior of the Wizarding World doesn’t mean that all of London is at your beck and call Harry. Believe me I wouldn’t be here if I had the choice.” His tone is taunting, but the smile stretched across his face looks frozen and lifeless.

Harry doesn’t even flinch. He stares at Draco, eyes narrowed into green slits and steps forward again. He lets his gaze ghost down across Draco’s pale lips and notices as his chest hitches slightly in response. “I don’t care about your reasons Draco,” He hisses, “You’re going to regret you ever came back here.”

He steps away and watches Draco’s face as his smile falters into a frown. He’s about to respond when Theo joins them again. Harry jumps a little at the sound of his footsteps next to him. He doesn’t know how he could have forgotten that Theo was half a room away, watching them.

“I have your entry paperwork for you Draco,” Theo says, his gaze flicking between them, “I’m thinking we can all go down to the conference rooms and you can fill it out there.”

“Sounds good,” Draco tells him, a genuine smile flickering across his lips. ~~~~~~~~~

In the conference room Draco shucks off his suit jacket before settling into one of the leather backed chairs. He looks more vulnerable without it, like a reflection of his schoolboy self. Harry watches him twirl the end of his forest green tie in his fingertips and thinks about the last time he’d seen Draco in a tie like that. It throws Harry straight back to the halls of Hogwarts, the two of them caught alone outside the eighth year common room as the sound of the party pulsed out through the open door, to the slippery feel of silk against his palms as he’d pulled it tight kissing Draco hard as he choked against his mouth - both of them tipsy and flush with the rush of holding their secret out like an open palm that anyone might take.

“Harry, could you grab us all some tea?” Theo asks, looking at him suspiciously. Harry curses himself for being so obvious.

“Sure,” He calls back, twisting himself away from Draco and towards the tea spread in the corner of the room. He makes their drinks quickly.

He’s heading back to the table when he hears Theo asks Draco, “So, what was your favorite part of The States?”

Draco responds quickly glancing up at Harry with a calculating gaze, “Well the National Parks of course. In fact I became quite a hiker during my time there.” He pauses, watching Harry carefully before continuing, “And of course all the beautiful men. You know, I think they make them differently in America.” His tone is conversational but cruel.

Harry sucks in a hot breath and focuses on keeping his face under control. Tension knots up his spine and into his muscles. It’s unfair that Draco still has such an effect on him. It’s been five years. Five fucking years, and all it takes is 20 minutes in a room with Draco Malfoy and it feels like he’s 18 again.

He takes another deep breath and starts to walk towards the table. He stumbles a bit on the carpet and as he looks down to stabilize himself he notices the third cup in his hand. It’s chamomile, no cream, two sugars, just how he used to make it for Draco late at night after studying, when they were both curled up in his bed wrung out and limbless with exhaustion. He looks up from the cup of tea and straight into Draco’s knowing eyes and suddenly he’s so angry he can’t think straight. He catches Draco’s eyes, holds him locked in a silent stare and lets go of the cup before it reaches the table. It falls almost in slow motion. Draco doesn’t look away from his eyes until the tea has soaked through his nearly completed documents and spilled from the table ledge into his lap.

“What the fuck Potter,” He hisses jumping up from his chair.

“Sorry, You know how clumsy I am.” Harry murmurs demurely.

“No actually I don’t. I don’t think they’d let an Auror on the field if they were that clumsy,” Draco spits shoving his way into Harry's space. His feet bracket him on either side. Harry thinks he’s forgotten how to breathe because he hadn’t noticed before, but Draco still smells like cedar and smoke, like too many memories. His chest aches and suddenly the fury explodes out of him because fuck Draco for making him feel like this. Before he even realizes it he’s reaching out and shoving Draco’s chest hard. Draco stumbles back quickly, fresh pain blooms across his face like he’s just been burned.

“Don’t you dare fucking touch me Harry,” He snaps.

“You used to never get enough of my hands” Harry spits abruptly, before immediately wishing he could take it all back, because Theo has turned around in his chair and he’s looking slowly back and forth between them with wide eyes. Merlin's Beard, how had he forgotten about Theo twice in one day.

Draco’s standing there frozen staring straight at Harry. His chest moves slowly up and down like each breath takes effort. Blooming high on his cheeks are dark patches of color. He looks shocked like he’s just been slapped. Harry stays fixed in place, glaring at him. He doesn’t know where to go from here. How to retrace his steps onto more stable ground. The silence in the room rings so deep that Harry’s almost sure Theo can hear his heartbeat.

All at once the bright beeping of Theo’s pager breaks the silence. Harry flinches his hand going straight to his wand holster on the outside of his left thigh. His war instincts still kick in at times like these, he sighs and forces himself to relax, shaking out his right hand. When he glances across at Draco he’s doing the same and abruptly Harry wants to laugh.

He gets a sort of vindictive pleasure out of the idea that Draco’s still as scarred by the war as he is. It’s what had first brought them together wasn’t it? All those nights sitting together in the common room when they couldn’t sleep, the tight grip of Draco’s lean arms the first time he’d comforted Harry after a nightmare, the way he’d whispered to him until he forgot what he’d been dreaming about, Harry relaxing boneless into Draco’s slim frame. Harry wonders if Draco remembers it too. When his gaze flicks upwards and meets Draco’s eyes they’re dark, guarded.

“Welllll,” Theo’s voice breaks the silence, he draws out his words gentle and cautious, “Looks like Dean’s partner had to head home sick and he thinks he’s found a lead for their case,” He pauses glancing apologetically at Harry, “You know how it is. He needs back up so I’m gonna head out. Leave you both to finish whatever this is.” He raises his eyebrows at Harry, something unspoken in his expression before turning and heading to the door.

“Oh and Draco, there’s another copy of that paperwork on the counter in a box.” He calls over his shoulder. Harry winces, he’d forgotten about the paperwork he’d ruined. In hindsight dumping his tea all over Draco’s paper had been a bit of a dick move. Not that he was going to apologize or anything.

A little sheepish Harry turns on his heel towards the counter running along the side of the room. When he reaches it he gathers his case notes from him and Theo’s current case. He likes to work in the conference rooms rather than his office, it’s dark and cold and feels a bit lonely so cut off from the world. He turns back to walk back to the table where Draco is sitting head bowed and before he can stop himself he grabs Draco’s paperwork as well.

When he reaches him he slams the papers onto the wood table heavily. He smirks a little as Draco starts in his seat, his finger flinching.

“What’d you say, pretty boy? How about you put that brain to work and actually get something done.” Harry spits at him gruffly. And fuck, he can’t believe he said that because what? Is he stupid? Calling Draco pretty is not a good way to get back at him, to make him hurt the way Harry had. Before he can stop himself his eyes flicker, running across Draco’s face next to him. His cheeks are pale. He’s gripping his pen a little too tight in his hand. Harry breathes out slowly and focuses back on the notes in front of him.

They sit there for a long time in silence, nothing but the sharp back and forth scratch of Draco’s quill. The paperwork seems to take a lot longer than it had the first time. Harry doesn’t mention it. They work past lunch. Harry ignores it, his stomach is tied tight in so many knots that he doesn’t think he could eat if he wanted to. He focuses on tracing his eyes across the black letters of the notes in front of him and taking deep breaths. He makes up rules in his head, rules about not looking at Draco, about not touching him. He doesn’t take in a single word of his report.

It’s about 3 o’clock when Draco shoves his chair back slightly and drops his quill loudly onto the wood in front of them. Harry jumps in his chair and glances across at him. Draco’s lips curve up into a small smirk, the bastard.

“Looks like I’m about finished here,” Draco drawls slowly, “What about you? Don’t worry if you're not. I know reading has always been a bit,” he pauses searchingly, “How should I say it, challenging for you?” The line of his lips sharpens a bit, becomes cruel.

The anger in Harry’s veins blossoms spilling out into his finger tips, filling his head until it’s pounding, until he can’t think straight. Until all he can see is Draco’s cold gray eyes looking down on him. “Fuck you,” He growls and then he’s reaching out shoving Draco back for the second time today. Draco’s body heat on his palms feels like tiny flames, like if Harry touches him for too long his skin might blister into a burn. Draco twists away and reaches out, grabbing at Harry’s arms, shoving at his sides. They grapple for a couple seconds until Harry swiftly knocks Draco’s legs out from under him and he tumbles, laying back across the table. Harry climbs onto the table straddling him and uses his body weight to hold him pinned, grinning maliciously. Draco squirms against him.

“You could never beat me in a fight,” Harry hisses close to his ear, “All that time wasted getting you Potions Mastery. Quite a pity really, giving up on defense magic to work in a little lab, while Auror's do the real work. I never pictured that for you.” He leans back slowly, eyes caught on Draco’s face. As his insults hit home Draco’s face hardens, his jaw clenches, his eyes flick shut. Something about his expression sparks an ache in Harry’s chest. Carefully he drops Draco’s hands where he’s been pinning them to his sides and slides backwards off the table. He muffles a sigh of relief as his feet hit the floor.

~~~~~~~~

After that the room remains silent as they gather their scattered paperwork off of the table. Harry’s just sliding his papers onto the back counter when he feels a warm hand clasp his shoulder. He turns into it and Draco is there, looming over him. Harry tries not to notice the way their tussle has loosened Draco’s braid and left his hair falling over his face in gentle waves. He looks softer like that, reminiscent of youth.

“You’re in my way Potter,” Draco tightens his grip on Harry’s shoulder and tries to shove him to the side. Harry digs his heels in, succeeds in remaining still.

“On the contrary I think you're in mine,” Harry responds coolly, “Why are you here anyways, at my job, in my ministry? I think it’s time you leave.”

“I like it here in London,” Draco says, his tone bored, “I missed my friends, and my mother’s sick, she needs me. You don’t own the place you know. You’re just going to have to deal with it.” He pauses briefly, a glint in his eyes, “Or you know you could quit, leave your precious Ministry in my hands.”

“Like hell I will,” Harry growls back, “I don’t give a shit about your presence.”

Draco inches closer. So close Harry can feel his body heat radiating off of him. His gray eyes look lighter now, almost playful, his lips shape into a more genuine smile, “Oh please Harry, you’ve been watching me all day. I bet you didn’t read a single word of your silly little case file.”

“You’re just self obsessed Malfoy, I was very focused on my reading.” Harry responds casually. He hopes Draco doesn’t hear the tiny tremor in his voice.

“Oh?” Draco steps even closer, caging Harry in against the counter behind him. Harry’s throat goes dry, his lungs feel tight like he’s forgotten how to breathe. “Then what was your case about?”

And, Harry should know because he’s spent two weeks on the case they’re talking about. He’s spent hours on it, named suspects, even chased several through the streets and yet now, when it’s most important he draws a blank. Draco’s eyes are fixed on his face and there’s tension in the set of his shoulders, a twist in the shape of his lips. He looks like a wolf who’s caught it’s prey, like he’s waiting for Harry to give in.

“Fuck you,” Harry says again, but this time there’s no heat behind it. He’s aware of how soft his voice sounds but there’s not much he can do about it with Draco’s lips so close that he can feel his breath on his face. The space between them feels charged, electric. Harry wants to touch Draco so badly his hands shake. He shifts slightly gripping the counter behind him in an effort to stop himself. He watches as Draco’s eyes track his movement.

Draco leans in until his lips graze across Harry's ear. “What Potter,” He pauses, placing a hand on Harry’s waist. His touch feels like an electric shock, “What are you scared of?”

“Actually,” Harry’s muscles feel tense, caught between fight and flight,“I think you’re the one who’s scared. After all, you're the one who left me.”

Harry watches as Draco’s breath catches in his throat and his gray eyes shutter. Then he’s stepping forwards pushing his body up flush against Harry. The buttons of their shirts catch against each other. Draco’s hip digs sharply into Harry’s stomach. The slight pain feels like a relief until Harry glances up and green meets gray and suddenly he can’t think anymore. Can’t think of anything, except for how close Draco is right now, how shudderingly hot Harry feels just from this, the way Draco is staring at him like he couldn’t look away if he tried.

When Draco speaks it comes out slightly choked like he’s forcing words out of his throat one by one, “You can’t blame me for all of it Harry, you know it’s your mess too.”

Then he places his second palm against Harry’s side and Harry’s head is spinning from the contact and also because what does Draco mean it’s his fault too? He’s wracking his brain for what he could have done when suddenly Draco grinds his hips forward and Harry’s mind goes completely blank.

When Draco kisses him Harry wonders for a second if this is just another dream. It wouldn’t be the first time that Harry’s subconscious conjured him up, soft and pliant, standing close, only for Harry to wake alone. But no, he thinks, because this Draco is taller than dream Draco, has tired lines around his eyes. This Draco kisses him like a fistfight, like a forest fire. His body against Harry’s feels like a long time coming, like ready or not.

Before he can stop himself Harry leans into the kiss, biting back a sigh as he licks upwards into Draco’s hot mouth. Draco groans in response and as if on their own accord Harry's hands raise from where they were gripping the countertop to smooth their way across Draco’s firm chest. Harry’s breath catches as he cups the rapid beat of Draco’s heart in his hand before sliding it over, pushing the open buttons on Draco’s shirt. One of the buttons tears and pops off, the soft sound of it hitting the floor rings bright and loud in the silent room. Draco pulls back angrily, his mouth a firm line but then Harry’s palms are on his smooth chest and he’s gasping for breath, buttons forgotten.

“Fuck,” Draco murmurs as he leans in kissing a line down Harry’s jaw and pausing where he meets neck. He pulls back for a second and Harry glances up at him. His irises are blown out leaving his eyes dark against his lightly tanned skin. His breath shudders for a second and then he’s licking a stripe down Harry’s brown skin, mouthing it until Harry’s head starts to spin. He shifts, slotting a thigh between Draco’s and dragging his hands down to Draco’s waist. He pulls him in, pressing them flush together and feels Draco, a hot hard line against his hip. Harry snaps his hips up again pressing against him and Draco’s groaning again, louder this time.

It doesn’t take them long to find a rhythm. Their hips jerk against each other in hot friction and then Draco’s broad hands are running over Harry’s back, down his sides. With Draco’s hands on him Harry finally understands what it must be like to be a Phoenix; it feels like he’s going up in flames, like he’s losing himself to smoke. He can’t think about anything but Draco; doesn’t want anything but him. He tries to focus on taking long deep breaths, worried for his stamina with the small noises Draco keeps making against his throat.

Abruptly, Draco reaches between them, palming Harry through his jeans and Harry bites down hard on Draco’s lip in an attempt to keep even an ounce of composure. Draco mumbles something softly, something that sounds like Harry’s name and the heat that’s been building at his core gives way and rushes euphoric through his bloodstream.

Vaguely, his hips still twitching, Harry is aware of Draco pulling back. He tries to control his ragged gasps, they ring loudly in the silence of the conference room.

“Well,” Draco growls down at him, voice low and taunting, “Have fun explaining this to Ginny tonight.” He presses soft fingertips along his neck where Harry assumes there’s a line of hickeys red and raw across tender skin before leaning back down, pressing his hips to Harry’s once again.

Head reeling Harry stands frozen for a second before he reaches out and shoves Draco back. Draco stumbles. His eyes are shocked and wide. “You’re such a prat,” Harry spits at him, wincing at the lack of heat in his words, “What in Circe’s name has Ginny got to do with any of this?”

Draco’s mouth opens slowly, his lips are swollen and red. Harry’s eyes track down his body, find the bulge in his pants, flicker up back to Draco’s face. He still doesn’t say anything, his eyes are narrowed on Harry’s and he looks almost confused.

All at once Harry wants to laugh almost as much as he wants to punch Draco because wait what? Did Draco just imply that he’s with Ginny? That he’s cheating on her?

“God, you always do expect the worst from me, don’t you,” He tells Draco coldy, pushing past him and shoving through the heavy wooden door of the conference room into the hallway.

As he walks Harry ignores the uncomfortable itch of wet fabric between his legs. His whole body feels numb and icy. He brings a hand to his face, presses it across his hot lips and then upwards along his jaw. His careful fingertips explore everywhere Draco’s touched him. When he pulls his hand down, dragging it off of his skin he’s surprised to see wetness. It’s only then that he notices the tears spilling from his eyes.

He thinks the only thing that could make things any worse is if Draco has followed him - so he catches his breath and turns scanning the hallway, and discovers that actually the worst thing is that Draco hasn’t.

He spins back, forcing his feet forward towards the nearest floo and disappears in a quick flash of green, his mind back in the conference room where Draco’s still standing, left wanting and alone.

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. 

Remember me  Rating: G, Words: 103 For the @drarrymicrofic prompt: nostalgia

When Harry shoves in closer to Draco he freezes for a second, the air in his lungs turning to ice. After five years he still smells bitter like cedar, and spicy like smoke. Harry coughs a little, shifts back, puts space between them. He’d forgotten that being with Draco feels like standing on a precipice, victim to the strong winds. 

“What is it Harry? I thought you’d be happy to see me.” Draco asks, his voice soft. 

Before Harry can stop himself his gaze flicks upwards to meet grey eyes, red rimmed and desperate. 

Draco still looks so beautiful after all this time.