Closing His Eyes He Tips His Head Back Against The Steady Wooden Wall And Wills His Head To Stop Spinning.

Closing his eyes he tips his head back against the steady wooden wall and wills his head to stop spinning. When he peels his eyes open again Draco’s there beside him.

Harry sucks in a breath, holds it and feels unsteady on his feet.

“Come with me.” Draco tells him, hand outstretched. 

Harry doesn't even wait a beat before taking it. 

Draco’s skin is soft against his and his palm is bigger than it used to be. Harry forces himself to draw a breath against the tightness of his ribcage. Heat crackles down his spine.

Draco tugs him through the loo door and stops suddenly, making Harry stumble a little. He catches him and presses him up against the wall.

When Draco kisses him Harry’s lips are already parted.

There’s less anger in it this time, just the casual pleasure of open mouths and tongues sliding together. Harry moves his hand up, clenching his fingers around Draco’s wrist, and watches as he squeezes his lids shut. He feels like he’s standing on the edge of a cliff, the strong wind pushing him closer and closer to the edge.

Draco groans into his mouth and the inside of Harry's thighs flare with warmth. He reaches up with his free hand and tangles it through Draco’s long golden locks tugging gently. “Fuck,” Draco exhales quietly, slotting his thigh in between Harry’s and pressing him more firmly to the wall.

Excerpt from my new fic Inexplicable Things 

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 the 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 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.

One of my fav excerpts from my new fic Inexplicable Things

Ready or Not 

Hermione had been shaking when she told him. She’d had to clear her throat several times and her pulse was pounding so loud in her ears that she almost couldn’t tell if she’d finally gotten the words out. 

The way Ron had reacted had been enough confirmation. She’d sat frozen as the sucker-punch pain of it all spread across his wide blue eyes and twisted it’s way over his mouth.

 “It’s okay ‘Mione, I understand,” He’d said softly, his cheeks pale and his hands clenched into fists. 

Hermione knew he didn’t. 

She’d never told him that there was someone else. It was never going to happen anyways.

Until…

Until, one night it did. 

They were drunk and giddy in the blue dusk of Harry’s garden when she stumbled and rough hands caught her waist ceasing her fall.

Suddenly, Hermione was looking up into wide eyes and blown out irises and she’d needed to remind herself to draw a breath against the tightness of her rib cage. 

They stood there for a second as if suspended in time before their lips brushed together. The kiss felt like a long time coming, like ready or not. 

When Hermione pulled away she looked up into Ginny’s warm brown eyes and smiled softly. The ache in her chest finally felt warm.

if you’re ever about to comment on a writer’s work and think, oh, they probably know how good they are, you’re definitely wrong. every time a writer posts or publishes anything, no matter how many years they’ve been doing it and no matter how many readers they have, they are struck with the idea that perhaps they aren’t very good at all.

if you think you’re annoying for commenting, or that we won’t see your comments anyway, you’re wrong. we see your comments. we actively look for them. we are starved for them no matter how many we get. we remember them and they fuel us. leave comments, even if it’s just saying “oh i like this”. i see an “oh i like this” and my heart grows three times its size and i am seized with an urge to provide you more writing just to hear you say “oh i like this” again.

This is so interesting!!!

every day i am percieved™️