IM SO GLAD The Song You Recd Was So Perfect. Angst Is Like My Fav Genre To Write.

I’M SO GLAD 💙 the song you rec’d was so perfect. Angst is like my fav genre to write.

ps Ravena, you asked for this ask.

I mean you didn't but you said you loved songs as inspirations.

How about

A drarry/jily/hinny fic

Based on the song

Arcade (the one which goes, "Oh I've spent all the love I saved, we were always a losing game. Small town boy in a big arcade, I got addicted to a losing game," It was on tiktok too *shudders*)

Thanks in advance if you do this <33333

I love writing prompts so thank you so much for this one! This fic is more a series of moments than a full plot line. I’ve never written a fic in this format before so let me know if you like it :) Hope this lives up to your expectations @silver-de-vonne!

Loosing Game 

1. The worst part of the trial was Harry’s expression when their eyes met. Draco only held his gaze for a second, taking in his clenched jaw and his unsteady eyes, before he ducked his head down and focused on the dull gray of the shackles on his wrists.

2. Draco expected the blade of life to keep on cutting so he asked it to whittle him into something too sharp to touch. 

3. “Fuck you,” Draco said, a tiny tremor in his voice.  “That’s the problem, you want to” Harry spat back, tone full of venom. Draco’s hands shook.

4. Draco wanted to scream at him. He wanted to punch him in the gut. He wanted to grab Harry’s face and press their lips together so hard that Harry would forget his own name. Instead, he turned to the bar and swallowed his drink in silence. 

5. “Everyone’s stupid when it comes to love.” Blaise said.  Draco watched the flames in front of them flicker and consume. Love he thought, is that what this is? Could you love someone from bleeding hands? 

6. When they kissed it felt like a long time coming, like ready or not.

7. When Harry shouted the whole room flinched into silence. 

8. It was a horrible thing, missing someone who was right in front of you. 

9. He watched from across the ballroom as Ginny took a step closer and threw her arms around Harry’s neck. He caught her without a second's hesitation.  Draco had to remind himself to draw a breath against the tightness of his ribcage. 

10. Outside Draco looked up into the sky and found only darkness. A new moon, all ache and empty. A delicate obsidian. A silence.

Inexplicable Things (Ch. 5)

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.

Read on on AO3 here

Read on Tumblr: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4

Chapter 5 

When they make it into the kitchen everyone is already crowded around the kitchen table inhaling their pancakes.

“Well, well, well. What a nice surprise for us to have a second guest at breakfast.” Theo calls his mouth quirked up into a smirk.

Harry shoots him a glare before pulling out a chair and offering it to Draco. Draco slides into it gracefully and Harry revels in his ability to look so poised even rumpled with sleep.

Theo passes them piles of pancakes and they dig in in silence. The sunlight shining through the gossamer curtains blooms across Draco’s hair making it shimmer in the gentle warmth of the kitchen. Harry breathes in and he can smell his shower gel on Draco’s skin mingled with the sweet spring breeze. When Ginny makes a joke he laughs. There; his mouth open, his head thrown back, a bit of syrup smeared across his cheek, he looks so carefree. It leaves Harry a little squirmy, a little terrified. Maybe his fate was decided a long time ago.

“Alright,” Ginny says loudly, interrupting his thought process and pushing her chair back from the table, “I’ve just remembered I have some paperwork to finish from yesterday so I’ve got to head in early. Harry just meet me there at 9:30, okay?” She waits for Harry to nod slowly, for Draco to dip his head back to the plate in front of him, before winking dramatically. Harry feels the warmth of a blush spread across his cheeks.

After she leaves they finish their food quickly.

“Me and Dean are hoping to be late for work,” Theo explains happily, “So we’ll do the washing up.”

“Why are you hoping to be late?” Draco asks, his brow creased in confusion. Harry’s fingers itch with the urge to reach out and touch him.

“Kingsley makes us do the discharge paperwork for criminals every Tuesday but it has to be in by a certain time,” Dean clarifies, “If we get there late enough he’ll give the work to someone else.”

“Hmm,” Draco muses, collecting the dirty dishes from the table and moving toward the sink. “That doesn’t seem the most ethical.”

“You’re right about that,” Theo says cheerfully. “But when has anyone in the Ministry really been ethical?”

Draco grins at him, “I like the way you think, Nott.”

Harry watches their banter in silence. Dean flicks a towel across Theo’s bum and he jumps, yelping. Draco giggles helplessly. He looks so open, so warm, that Harry wants to skip work and drag him back upstairs to bed. Instead he clears his throat and glances at the clock.

“We’d better get a move on since we’ve actually got to be at work on time.” He says, looking pointedly at Theo and Dean.

“We all know you’re just jealous Harry,” Theo taunts, flicking a bit of dishwater at him.

“Oh fuck off Theo,” Harry says kindly, gathering his work things from the living room, “Are you ready to go Draco?”

“I guessss,”Draco whines slowly backing out of the kitchen, “It’s so unfair we have to go in while Theo and Dean get to wash dishes.”

“You’re right,” Harry admits, before lowering his voice to a whisper. “But we won’t have to sit through the disciplinary meeting Theo gets everytime he encourages someone to act like this.”

Draco’s eyes light up, “How do you know he gets in trouble?”

Harry looks at the floor sheepishly, “Because I’m his partner. That means I’m usually the one here with him doing dishes when we should be at work.”

Draco elbows him in the side and breaks into laughter. Harry joins him.

Still laughing, Draco reaches for the basket by the fireplace that holds the floo powder. Harry reaches out and stops him. Tentatively he asks, “Do you want to walk to the ministry?” When Draco doesn’t respond immediately he continues, “It’s just so beautiful out this morning,” His eyes dart across Draco’s face for a sign of affirmation.

“I didn’t know you lived so close,” Draco tells him slowly, picking up his briefcase and moving towards the entranceway, “A walk sounds great.”

Harry breathes a quiet sigh of relief and pushes the door open ushering Draco out into the sunshine. The flowers in his neighbors yards are blooming in bright purples and reds, and the sweet scent reminds him of the spring blossoms that appeared by the lake at Hogwarts every year. It all feels so recent, as if the years that have passed since then were just a mirage.

“Do you remember that charm Mcgonagall taught us? The one where our wand bloomed roses?” Draco asks pensively, staring at the flowers that line the street.

It shakes Harry at first, that they’re both on the same wavelength, but then he remembers how familiar it is. They’d always been like that. Mirrors of each other, the boy who chose, the boy who had no choice. It had made it easier for them to understand each other during eighth year. Harry sometimes felt like Draco knew what he was thinking minutes before he’d even opened his mouth.

“I think so,” Harry says, bending closer to the blooms to sniff.

“I do too,” Draco replies softly. When Harry straightens up Draco’s holding his wand in one hand and a long stemmed pale pink rose in the other.

“It’s beautiful,” He tells him, not sure if he’s allowed to take a step forward to look closer.

Draco spots his hesitation and moves closer himself. Breaking the stem off his flower he tucks it into Harry’s button hole.

“Here. A thank you for letting me stay the night,” He says hesitantly, stepping away in a flash. He ducks his head letting his blonde hair fall over his cheeks.

“Thank you,” Harry says, falling into step next to Draco.

They walk in silence for a few seconds. Draco slows to a leisurely pace tipping his head back to let the golden sunbeams soak into his skin. His silhouette against the bright blue sky is apollonian. Harry could move away but doesn’t, keeps walking so their arms brush with every step.

“Did you really take up hiking while you were in the States?” He asks. He finds it easier to picture Draco out in the wilderness now that he knows him to be a little less cruel, a little more boy.

“I did,” Draco says, his eyes arching up in surprise. “I think you might like it too. It felt like such a relief to be out there alone surrounded by so much beauty. It was the first time I truly felt like there were no expectations for me.”

“That makes sense,” Harry replies, guiding them to the left down a narrow alley, “I think I would enjoy that.”

“I could take you sometime,” Draco offers quickly, a light blush spreading over his cheekbones.

“I’d like that,” Harry says softly, carefully looking anywhere but Draco’s eyes.

They leave the narrow alleyway and step onto a busier street. The sound of cars and bicycle bells break the tension around them. Harry watches an old woman push a stroller quickly down the smooth sidewalk. The baby inside lets out a light cry of joy.

“How have things been with Hermione and Ron?” Draco asks, raising his voice over the din of the street.

“Good, Did you hear that they had a baby?”

“I did not,” Draco bumps him gently with an elbow, “Every time I’ve seen them I think they’ve been too busy glaring at me to fill me in.”

“Oh.” Harry feels a secret burst of pride for the unbreakable ties of Gryffindor loyalty. Whoever said Syltherins were the most loyal house were severely mistaken. “That’s my fault honestly. I might have complained about you a good amount when you first returned.”

“I assumed that was it,” Draco says sardonically as he avoids getting shoulder checked by a very wide businessman holding a large leather bag.

“If you’re good, I’ll tell them to give you a break.”

“I think I can do that,” Draco turns slightly to wink at him. Harry just barely stops himself from running headfirst into a telephone poll.

“Better watch where you’re going Potter,” Draco taunts, grabbing his arm in a vice grip and steering him around a group of young people walking dogs.

“Thanks,” Harry says gratefully, trying to ignore the flutter in his chest that’s awakened by the warm grip of Draco’s palm.

A few minutes later they take another turn onto a much quieter street. They’re nearing the entrance of the Ministry and Harry spots several people wearing robes.

“It seems silly that people don’t just carry their robes and change into them once they arrive,” Draco says quietly leaning in. Harry swears he can feel his breath tickle across his ear.

“I know,” He replies. “What’s the point of the Stature of Secrecy if a Muggle investigator could just follow a trail of people in robes to the door of the ministry?”

“Well, I don’t think the entrance would open for them,” Draco glances across at Harry and meets his eye in a flicker of gray, “But you’re right. The whole thing is a bit of an oversight.”

Harry’s about to respond when a woman across the street starts to shout. The sound of her yells curdle his blood and his Auror reflexes kick in. Before he can even take in what the woman is saying his hand darts to his thigh holster and wraps tightly around his wand-shaft.

As he goes to draw his wand he feels the gentle warmth of Draco’s hand blocking him. “It’s okay,” He says softly. “Don’t waste your time on her.”

It’s then that the woman's words sink in. “Death Eater scum! Sullying our savior! Go back to Azkaban where you belong!!” The woman's face is beet red. As she yells her spit sprays into the cool morning air.

It takes Harry a second to realize who she’s yelling at. He can’t remember the last time he thought about Draco as someone on the other side of the war.

Then, it clicks and he’s storming across the street before Draco can stop him, wand out, suit jacket flapping in the wind.

“Draco is a better person than you’ll ever be,” He barks at her, his tone sharpening to glass tones. “You should be ashamed, shouting at people in the street.”

“Oh, touched a nerve did I?” The woman hisses, “Has the Death Eater brainwashed you?”

Harry steps closer pushing up into her space, “And what were you doing during the war? I didn’t see you in the battle. In fact, I would bet you weren’t involved at all. It’s so easy to judge isn’t it? When you have no idea what we were even up against.”

The woman huffs at him, her face twisting into a snear.

“Harry,” Draco’s voice is quiet. “This happens sometimes, it's okay.”

With that, he tugs Harry along, and while Harry gives the woman a sidelong cutting glare, he follows. If he’s honest, his acceptance is mostly due to Draco’s hand covering his own, Draco’s long fingers wrapping around Harry’s warm brown skin, and how is Harry supposed to defend him properly when he’s being distracted like this?

Luckily, the woman seems as dumbstruck by the sudden hand holding as Harry is himself and she abruptly stops shouting. The street is silent for a second and Draco uses her distraction to tug Harry down a small alleyway.

“This way,” He says softly, as he pulls Harry into the narrow brick pathway. “It’s a bit of a short cut.”

“Does that happen to you often?” Harry asks, his tone sharp. He’s still seething inside. The hand Draco isn’t holding is clenched into a fist and his blood is burning through his veins. He wants to punch someone. Preferably the old women they’d left behind. Though, it’s probably better that he didn’t. She didn’t deserve the publicity that would come with getting punched in the face by the Savior of the Wizarding World.

“Yes sometimes,” Draco says, his mild tone makes Harry’s blood rush faster, his feet stomp harder against the pavement.

“You know,” He adds conversationally, his finger clutch Harry’s had tighter, “that was one of the reasons I left you.”

“What do you mean?” Harry’s tone is sharp. His feet halt underneath him and they stumble before coming to a stop in the dim alleyway. “Why would that be a reason for you to leave?”

“Because I believed them,” Draco replies simply, his fingers leaving imprints against the back of Harry’s palm. “I was on the wrong side of the war. I tortured people. I was cruel and bigoted and I couldn’t even look at myself in the mirror. I didn’t even understand how you could bring yourself to speak to me let alone…” He pauses for a second, “Let alone like me enough for us to have whatever it was we had.” He dips his eyes down towards the cobbles beneath his feet.

The dim light of the alleyway leaves Draco’s skin pale. With his shoulders hunched and his hand in Harry’s palm they could almost be back at Hogwarts hiding in one of the stone passageways before classes. Harry suddenly finds it hard to catch a breath against the iron band of his ribs. Back then Draco had expected the blade of life to keep right on cutting. When he left it had been him asking it to do the small mercy of whittling him into someone too sharp to touch.

“Fuck,” Harry breathes. Draco’s eyes drift hesitantly off the floor and settle somewhere near Harry’s face. “I didn’t realize. I should have. It’s so clear now. My head was just so messed up from the war. I think we both couldn’t see straight.”

“It’s not your fault,” Draco rushes, his eyes finally meeting Harry’s in a flash of frantic gray. “None of it was ever your fault. And, you might hate me for saying this but I think leaving was for the best. I needed to figure myself out. I needed to educate myself more. I needed to learn how to become proud of the person I could become. I don’t know if it would have been as easy for me to find myself if we’d stayed together all that time.” He exhales in a huff and tries to pull his hand away. Harry holds on.

“Draco, I could never hate you,” Harry pulls him closer, relishing the weight of Draco’s palm against his. “What you said makes sense. I wish things had gone differently but you’re right. Without the time apart we wouldn’t be who we are today. And, I think I like us like this.”

A small smile peaks its way out of the corner of Draco’s lips. “Thank you,” He sighs, “for understanding.” His shoulders loosen, sag a little in relief.

Harry looks at the wrung out man in front of him. He looks bone tired, like he could use a long nap. Harry can’t believe it isn’t even 9:30am yet. He remembers the kiss in his bedroom. Breakfast with his friends. All at once it hits him that he’s allowed to touch Draco now. Whatever’s between them has blossomed, spreading it’s petals out to the sun. Harry takes one swift step forward and reaches up, cradling Draco in his arms.

Draco collapses into him. His body against Harry’s is firm and lithe and as his muscles relax Harry feels the ache in his chest dissipate.

“Come on, let's get ourselves to work before Kingsley has a hissy fit,” He says softly. Draco’s hair tickles against his lips.

“Can’t let that happen can we?” Draco quips. He steps back from Harry and drops his hand slowly before turning and continuing down the alley.

They’re close enough to the Ministry that the rest of their walk passes quickly. They enter through the toilets and quickly join an elevator for the second floor.

They arrive just on time and watch as the hands of the clock above Kingsley's office tick ominously into the position for 9:30. Draco quietly highfives him and mouths, “We made it.”

There’s a fractured second, in the hallway, at the doorstep of Harry’s office where he thinks they might kiss. They don’t though. Just look at each other for several long beats before Draco rocks back on his heels, hands laced together behind his back.

“Do you want to come to dinner with me tonight?” He says quickly, fidgeting back and forth.

“Yes,” Harry says slowly, his lips turning up in a languid smile. “Yes, I would love to.”

“Good,” Draco says curtly. “I’ll meet you at your house at 7.”

That’ll give Harry just enough time to rush home for a quick shower and change. “Perfect,” he says and watches as Draco strides down the corridor a couple paces before disappearing into his office.

Harry stands in the hallway for several minutes. Is this a date? He wonders. He doesn’t dare ask. He might not like the answer.

~~~~~~~~~

Ginny’s sitting in Harry’s chair slumped over his desk. At the click of the door she looks up, her bright eyes mischievous.

“You better be ready to tell me all the juicy details,” She calls across the room, sitting up straight.

“There’s not much to spill,” Harry lies, trying to hide a smile behind his hand.

“Yeah right,” Ginny waves her wand, conjuring a second armchair for him to sit in. “He slept over. You must have something to say for yourself.”

Harry sinks into the chair gratefully. “I mean, nothing really happened. We talked. I kissed him and you walked in on it. We went to work.” He can feel a blush spreading over his cheeks.

“Okay, I can work with that,” Ginny says mischievously. Harry watches as she spins a quill back and forth between her fingers. “So what did you talk about?”

Harry feels the old inclination rise in his throat, the one that wants him to lock his jaw, the one that wants him to keep Draco all to himself. “We talked about eighth year, why he left me, why he never came back.”

Ginny nods silently and prompts him with her hands to keep going.

“Wait a second,” Harry asks feeling a bit betrayed, “You should be asking a million questions right now. Did Theo tell you about our talk?”

“Obviously,” Ginny says, not the least bit guilty. “You were acting crazy, we were both worried about you. And hey,” She adds brightly, “It worked out because now you don’t have to explain everything to me detail by detail.”

Harry groans, dropping his head to the table for a split second. Sometimes he hates his two friends almost as much as he loves them. He’s got to admit though, it does make it easier to not have to explain everything all over again.

“Okay,” He sighs, raising his head to look at her again. “So anyways, it turns out that he left because he didn’t think I loved him enough to make things work while he was in France. And then,” He pauses to add a bit of dramatic flair, “He didn’t come back because he thought you and I had gotten back together.”

Ginny chokes on the air in her throat before collapsing in hysterical giggles. Harry watches grinning as her face flushes to bright red.

“Oh my god,” She sputters, “I’m never going to let him live this down.”

“It is pretty hilarious,” Harry admits, looking down at his hands.

“So you talked,” Ginny says when she finally catches her breath. “And that led to kissing?”

“Pretty much,” Harry admits. “And also he asked me to dinner tonight,” He adds in a rush before he can convince himself not to.

“Oh my god, He asked you to dinner?!” Ginny squeals loudly.

“Say it a little louder will you,” Harry says techily, gesturing at the thin walls of his office.

“Sorry. Sorry.” Ginny quiets down but continues leaning forward in her seat. She looks like the cat who caught the canary, her face pleased and smug and begging for more. “So what did you say?”

“I said yes,” Harry says hesitantly. If he would have known opening up to Ginny would be like facing the grand inquisition he might have made some different choices.

“Oh well, obviously,” Ginny says with a dismissive flick of her hand. “I don’t know why I even asked. I mean who would say no to Draco. He’s brilliant.”

Harry feels a small irrational spark of jealousy flicker in his chest. He ignores it.

“Sooo, do you think it’s a date?” Harry bites down a smile at the sight of Ginny practically bouncing up and down in excitement.

“I don’t know?” He responds hesitantly, “I mean it might be? But we didn’t really talk about what we wanted. Only what went wrong in the past.”

“Hmm,” Ginny says pensively, drumming her fingers on the oak in front of them. “I’d say it’s a date. Or at least, you should act like it’s one.”

“Okay.” Harry’s hands start to sweat in adrenaline. “Ginny, how do I act like it’s a date?”

“Harry, don’t freak out about this,” Ginny says calmly, “You’ve been on dates before.”

“Yes, but not with Draco,” Harry says frantically as the reality of the coming evening finally sets in.

“Yes, but not with Draco,” Ginny mimics him in a high pitched voice, before laughing a bit. “Sorry, it’s not funny. It’s insane to see you finally admit you feel something for him.”

“I know, I’ve been a total pillock,” Harry admits, swallowing softly. “I should have asked you and Theo for advice at the beginning. I don’t know why I kept it to myself.”

Ginny looks at him silently.

“Actually okay, I do know.” He admits softly. “It just felt like loving Draco was paramount to who I was. I don't know how to talk about it without feeling like I was losing a piece of me.”

“That makes sense,” Ginny says, reaching out across the desk and clasping one of his hands. “How does it feel now that you have talked about it?”

“Way better than I thought it would,” Harry responds, his mouth softening into a smile. “It doesn’t feel like giving away a piece of myself at all.” He pauses for a second gathering his thoughts, “It feels more like by sharing I’m setting it free. Like it’s allowing my love to get bigger. I don’t know if that makes sense.”

“Harry,” Ginny says quietly, looking at him with wide shocked eyes. “Did you just say you still love him?”

Harry’s mind races frantically combing over his words. Love, he thinks, is that what this is? Can you love someone who’s only been back in your life for a handful of weeks?

“I’m not sure,” He confesses, “I think I’ll always love him after our time in eighth year.” Ginny’s eyes narrow and she waits for him to elaborate. “It would take me time to be able to say I was in love with him again.”

“I hear that,” Ginny says, “You need time to trust him again and to understand the person he’s become without you.”

“Yeah, exactly.”

“Well,” Ginny sits up straight again, a glint in her warm brown eyes. “If that’s the case then we need to get started on work so we can get you out of here early. We have to make sure you have time to get ready for your hot date.”

Harry grins at her. He feels so light."I think," he admits, words kind of dislodged and tumbling around his head, " I could get used to going on dates with him, waking up next to him, having breakfast together.”

Ginny raises an eyebrow. “Hearing those words come out of your mouth almost scares me,” She admits, “I can’t believe our Harry is finally growing up.” She reaches over and rumbles his hair, making him duck away.

“Hey, I wasn’t that useless,” He cries indignantly.

“Harry. It took you five years to even admit to ever having feelings for him.”

“Fine. Okay. Whatever.” Harry grumbles, pushing himself out of his chair and picking up their case notes. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They get off of work late. Harry should have expected it really, Aurors are always working overtime.

He manages to take the quickest shower of his life and shove his body into some dark green suit pants and a white button down before he hears the doorbell ring. He tumbles down the stairs and jams his feet into some dress shoes ignoring the wolf whistles and various catcalls coming from where Theo and Ginny are sitting in the living room.

“Hello,” He breathes as he opens the door. Draco looks effortless as usual. Harry watches breathlessly as his eyes trail over Harry’s shoulders and down, then back up. Harry preens a little under the attention, his chest puffing up a little bit. He fights the urge to run a hand through his hair.

“You look good,” Draco says, his voice husky.

“Ooo,” Ginny’s shrill scream pierces the air. Harry watches in wry amusement as Draco jumps a little, “Draco thinks you look hottt Harryyy.”

“Oh my god. Will you fuck off,” Harry tells her laughing as he steps out of the house and shuts the door firmly behind him. “Sorry about that. She’s a little over enthusiastic.”

“I can see that,” Draco says, his lips twitching in his effort to keep from laughing. “For the record I do think you look hot.”

Harry blushes then and falls into step next to him. “So where are we going?”

“I thought maybe I could make you dinner at mine?” Draco says tentatively. “I just figured we didn’t want to deal with people gossiping, and coming up to us, and slinging insults at me like that woman this morning.” He looks at the ground sheepishly. “But if you want to go out we can totally do that.”

“No,” Harry says softly, nudging their shoulders together. “That sounds perfect.”

~~~~~~~~~

Draco’s house isn’t how Harry pictured it. For starters it’s smaller than Harry expected. A little cottage situated in the rolling green hills of the countryside outside London. Inside the entryway opens up to an open floor plan. There's a small living room full of colorful furniture connected to a kitchen/dining room combo where all the cupboards are painted a light sage green. All around them the walls are covered in artistic prints. The long windows along the walls open up to grassy fields and the sky is glowing in dark blue shades of dusk.

“I love it here,” Harry tells him, looking around in awe.

“Not what you expected for someone who just moved back to town is it?” Draco asks sheepishly. Harry watches as he carefully toes off his shoes leaving them by the door.

“Yeah, you’ve clearly put a lot of work into it,” Harry says, spinning on his heel to fully take in the scene around him.

“Well, I might have owned it for a while,” Draco admits softly, focusing firmly on lining up his shoes perfectly.

“What do you mean?” Harry asks, scratching the back of his neck in confusion.

“I may have lied a bit when I said I only came back because my mother was sick.” Draco finally looks up at him. His cheeks are pale. “I wanted to come back. I missed London. And, maybe I couldn’t admit it to myself until I was in the DMLE looking at you for the first time in years, but I missed you too. I think maybe part of me was hoping we might get a second chance.”

“Oh,” Harry says dumbly, looking at him with wide eyes. “Oh. Well, here I am. So it looks like you’re getting your second chance.”

“Thank you,” Draco says breathlessly.

They stand there for a second staring at each other the way people normally wouldn’t unless they were furious or flirting. Harry wonders if Draco can tell how fast his heart is beating. The air is so silent around them that he can hear when Draco takes a huge gasping breath.

“This way,” Draco says, ripping his gaze away from Harry’s and turning away. He leads Harry towards the open kitchen and gestures to a stool by the breakfast bar. “You can sit here and watch while I cook. I know better than to trust you in a kitchen Harry.”

“What do you mean? I can cook.” Harry tells him feeling a bit put out.

“Harry, in eighth year we tried to have a picnic and you sliced your hand open cutting a sandwich.” Draco scoffs as he begins to pull ingredients out of the cupboards. He leans down and Harry’s gaze flicks to the swell of his bum, his long lithe legs. He suddenly finds it a bit difficult to follow the conversation.

“What?” He says. “Sorry. I spaced out for a second.”

Draco moves across the kitchen, puts a pan on the burner. “I was mentioning the hand slicing incident in eighth year.”

“Oh that. I’m just bad around knives. I can still cook,” Harry whines.

“60% of cooking is just cutting things up,” Draco scoffs. The oil in the pan starts to sizzle and he turns back to the stove.

Harry watches him in silence for a while reveling in the way his clothing clings to his lean body and the steam from the stove turns his hair slightly wavy.

“I forgot,” Draco says, breaking the comfortable silence. “There’s wine in the fridge. Help yourself.”

Harry’s suddenly struck with the knowledge that the house is furnished almost entirely Muggle. He can’t believe he didn’t notice before. He slips off of his chair and wanders over to the fridge. As he opens the wine and pores a glass he asks, “Why do you live in a Muggle house?”

“The Wizarding World is much more integrated with Muggles in France,” Draco explains. Harry watches as his broad hands lift meat and place it carefully into the pan. “A lot of their buildings mix Muggle and Wizarding technology. I just got used to it.”

“Oh.” Harry says. He’s struck by how much Draco has matured. It's beautiful, the way he’s grown into himself, the things he’s learned from traveling the world. He’s so familiar and yet, all at once fundamentally changed. Harry wonders what Draco sees when he looks at him, if he feels the same way about Harry.

Draco reaches up into the highest cabinet to grab some spices. His back arches. Harry grips the counter to keep himself from moving across the kitchen and wrapping his hands around his neck and pulling him back to the floor until their lips touch.

He stays silent as Draco finishes putting their meal together. His eyes track the bend and sway of his hips as he paces across the floor in front of him. As he moves plates and cuts through meat Harry finds himself hypnotized by the flex of his muscles through his shirt. By the time the meal is ready Harry’s throat is dry and he can feel the heat or arousal pooling in his stomach.

“Here,” Draco says softly sliding a plate in front of him. The cut of meat is steaming into the cool air, Harry can smell hints of butter and sage and when Draco places a fork and napkin down beside him his mouth starts to water.

“I figure we can just eat here instead of moving to the dining table,” Draco says, a question in his eyes.

“That’s fine,” Harry replies casually leaning in closer to his food and sniffing it again with an appreciative hum. Draco slides onto the stool next to him.

Harry’s always liked to eat next to people rather than across from them, liked to lean into their side, feel the warmth of their close proximity. He wonders if Draco remembers.

Harry lifts a bit of food to his mouth and flits his gaze sideways to take in Draco’s profile. His cheeks go warm as Draco scrapes his long golden waves into a knot at his crown. Small wisps of hair dangle down and frame his cheekbones. Harry’s mouth waters again. He forces his gaze back on the food in front of him, cataloging the shiny green vegetables, the creamy white potatoes. He shoves the bite on his fork into his mouth and groans around it.

“Merlin, where did you learn to cook like this?” He asks, quickly shoveling two more bites into his mouth and groaning again in appreciation.

Draco’s cheeks pinken, “I learned in France. It was the first time I really had to live without house elves so I picked up a couple cookbooks at a bookshop.”

Of course Draco Malfoy would only need a few cook books to make the best cooking Harry’s ever tasted. He would spend some time being put out about it if he could rip himself away from his plate for even two seconds. “Nice,” He mumbles through his food.

“I can’t believe you didn’t learn a single table manner in the five years I’ve been away.” Draco says, shaking his head and taking a sip of wine. He sounds fond.

“They aren’t that bad,” Harry grumbles, gulping down a mouthful of creamy potato.

“Harry, you have gravy on your cheek and a green bean sitting on your thigh,” Draco admonishes. He reaches over and plucks the bean from Harry’s pants placing it neatly on his napkin.

Then, before Harry can even comprehend what’s happening his dry finger is pressing soft against Harry’s brown cheek. Harry leans into it. Can’t think of anything but want, and more, and Draco. Quicker than it appeared the finger is gone. Harry sways on his stool, feels slightly dizzy. He turns back to his food and focuses on swallowing one bite at a time. The knowledge of Draco beside him sends electricity up and down his spine.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The meal finishes in what feels like mere seconds. Harry stares at the empty plate in front of him and suddenly feels twitchy. He doesn’t know how to be normal like this. It feels strange sitting in Draco’s house with nothing to do with his hands. He wants to place both his palms against the soft skin of Draco’s neck, feel his adams apple bob as he finishes his last bites. He wants to breathe through Draco’s airways, hold their bodies against each other until each beat of their hearts feels like an echo. He wants wet lips, and naked skin, a love so deep he can drown in.

Harry clenches his fists and stays still.

He doesn’t realize what he’s been waiting for until Draco pushes his chair back and walks to the other side of the counter. He stays silent as Draco casts a quick scourify before levitating the plates back onto their high shelf. Then, Draco walks back towards him and Harry swings his chair so they’re facing, so Draco is close enough that their toes line up. Harry watches the muscles of Draco’s chest clench and release.

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

Draco’s looking at him like prey, like he’s hunting him for sport.

Harry feels like he’s standing at a precipice, a strong wind blowing him closer to the edge.

Draco presses in closer, slides his hands up his sides. When he cups Harry’s cheeks in trembling hands Harry remembers to draw a breath against the tightness of his ribcage. Heat crackles down his spine.

Draco tilts his lips to Harry’s ear, “This okay?”

Harry nods slightly, his heart in his throat and leans into Draco’s touch, eyelids low, lashes fluttering.

Draco leans in slowly and Harry hooks a hand under his shirt, pulling him in faster. His fingertips ghost over Draco’s lower abdomen, the rough hairs of his happy trail scrape on his palm. Harry tugs him closer and their lips meet. Draco tastes like wine. Harry thinks about the soft shape of his lips, their rosy pout, how they’re always glistening, and then Draco opens his mouth, lets their tongues tangle, and Harry finds he can’t think at all.

Harry’s hand brushes up towards Draco’s chest and his breath hitches. His hands drop from Harry’s chest to find his waist and then in a smooth pivot he’s lifting Harry up till he’s standing, shoving the stool aside until Harry’s back is pressed against the cool edge of the granite table top.

Draco’s long fingers fall under his shirt pressing their way across Harry’s hip bones and Harry lets out a low groan. He pulls his head away from Draco’s lips and mouths at his neck, teeth digging into salty skin and tender veins. Draco leans his head back, exposes the tender skin of a delicate neck and lets Harry bruise him, lets Harry mark him as his own.

Their bodies press together. Harry can feel the swell of Draco’s chest, the jut of his hipbones. Draco slides a palm along his shoulder, up the back of his neck and applies light pressure, pulling him deeper into the kiss. Harry gasps and ruts up against Draco. Draco pulls away from his lips just long enough to ask, “Should I show you my bedroom?” He voice is hoarse, strained.

Harry nods once and then Draco’s hand is gripping his wrist tightly. His stomach swoops with the tug of aperation and in a split second he’s standing on the wood floor of Draco’s bedroom.

He has just enough time to take in the white walls and the drapery of plant vines climbing across every surface before Draco is pushing him back onto the bed behind him, his eyes serious, his mouth a firm line.

Draco straightens up, leaves Harry gasping, alone on the bed. “Come here,” Harry whines, his dick throbs between his legs, his lips feel hot, swollen.

“Oh, believe me I will,” Draco’s tone is smooth and sultry, his smile slow and self assured. In one brief movement he lifts his shirt off of his shoulder, steps out of his trousers, shucks off his pants, and then there is just him, bare and standing in front of Harry. Harry swears softly and reaches under the waistband of his pants to palm himself.

Draco gracefully slides onto the bed and straddles Harry’s hips. Harry gives himself another squeeze, drifting his eyes across Draco’s heaving chest to where his cock stands out red and wet, juxtaposed against Harry’s clothed stomach.

“Going to let me take my clothes off too?” Harry asks, raising his eyebrow.

“I’ll do it for you,” Draco promises, his voice husky, his eyes blown sky wide. He smooths his hands deftly across Harry’s chest and opens his shirt gently, one button at a time. Harry wriggles and suddenly his shirt is off and Draco’s rough palms are ghosting against his delicate brown skin. He gasps and bites his tongue in an effort to ground himself. Draco’s fingers dip under his waistband, examining his hip bones pushing back to the space where his waist dips and swells.

Then Draco eases off again, pushing himself back and coaxing Harry to lift his hips so he can pull his trousers away. Draco leans down and kisses the newly exposed skin. His lips against Harry’s thigh feel charged, electric. Harry lets out a shaky breath and winds his fingers through Draco’s hair urging him on.

Draco lifts his head for a second. His cheeks flushed, his pupils so wide and black that Harry thinks he could get lost in them. Draco’s lips are swollen and scarlet. When he flicks his tongue out to wetten them Harry’s stomach sways like he’s standing at an unbearable height.

Draco’s hand moves till it’s clasping Harry’s hip into place. His eyebrow quirks slightly and before Harry can prepare himself for it he drops his head down sucking the head of his cock into his mouth.

“Draco,” He breathes, “Fuck.”

Draco tilts his head up looking at him. His perfect lips are stretched around the girth of Harry, his eyes burning grey. Draco’s mouth is soft, his tongue presses velvety against the head of Harry’s dick. He pushes his head back down and the whole room spins.

Harry feels the weight of Draco’s upper body against his thighs and drags his hand out of Draco’s hair, digging his nails firmly into the firm muscle of his back. Draco hums in appreciation and Harry feels the noise buzz against the base of his cock.

He circles his hips forward and Draco closes his eyes, dropping down, taking him in deeper. Draco swallows around the tip of Harry’s cock and the inside of Harry’s head becomes a swimming mess of noise. He gives his hips a nudge, a little bolder, and Draco holds still, lets Harry fuck his mouth, hot and rhythmic.

Harry tightens his hand in Draco’s hair. gathers it into a fist so he can watch more clearly. Draco glances up, eyes narrowed into slits, lips swollen. Harry feels the edges of his vision darken and lets out a ragged groan.

Draco sinks down again, smooth and graceful, the picture of debauched aristocracy. Harry stares at the arches of Draco’s shoulder blades, broader now, covered in freckles. He watches the bunch and flex of Draco’s muscles, pulls one hand out of Draco’s hair to feel the way they move under his palm.

Draco’s throat around him is perfect, wet heat and pressure. Harry’s eyelashes flutter and he lets them fall shut focusing on the warmth of Draco’s skin under his palms, he pressure of his body that pins Harry to the mattress. Draco sinks down further, the roof of his mouth pressing across the head of Harry’s cock. Harry tugs on his hair firmer and jerks forward losing himself in a few erratic thrusts. He comes so hard he swears he sees stars bloom against the obsidian of his eyelids and Draco swallows him down all hot lips and warmth, and softness.

Harry lies there gasping for a second, peels his eyes open to watch as Draco pushes himself upwards and holds himself there, above Harry. Harry reaches up and tugs him down until their chests touch, until he can taste himself in Draco's mouth. Draco groans against him and they move in tandem, breath for breath.

Harry can feel Draco’s still swollen cock caught between the hot slick of their bodies. He reaches between them and takes it in his palm rubbing back and forth until Draco’s hips twitch into tremors. Rutting against Harry he finally reaches his peak. Harry watches as his face screws up and then relaxes. He stays still as slippery warm liquid pools across his stomach and Draco rolls off of him collapsing boneless into the sheets.

“Fuck,” Harry exhales and lifts his head up to trace his eyes down the length of Draco’s body. “I missed that so much.”

A blissful smile curls across Draco’s face and he moves in closer, wrapping himself into Harry’s body heat. When his hand touches Harry’s slippery stomach he recoils a little and pulls himself up into a sitting position.

“We’ve got to get you cleaned up,” He explains, standing up and offering a hand to Harry. “Come on, I’ll give you a tour of my bathing facilities.” He smirks and walks out of the room. Harry follows him.

When Harry steps into the shower Draco follows him. Immediately, the guise of a practical cleaning is shattered and the shower devolves into an impractical half hour of hot skin and wet moans and fragrant steam that leaves Harry’s head spinning. It climaxes in a loss of balance that leaves them both in peels of laughter. They stumble back to bed and collapse into the sheets naked, their skin hot and flushed, smelling like Draco’s shampoo.

In bed Draco curls around him and Harry revels in the comfort of his presence. His heartbeat slows as Draco huffs sleepy breath across his chest and Harry lets his eyes flutter closed.

It’s early, but they fall asleep anyways. Two boys enveloped in each other, all loose limbs and wild hair curled across snowy sheets.

I love this! Writing advice is always so helpful for me 💜💙

Writing in First Person

Okay so I realize that exactly 0 people requested this, and I’m in no position to be giving writing advice, but I’ve seen some writers say they struggle with first person and want to get into writing it. And I just want to put in my two cents in hopes someone sees this and it helps.

The way I employ first person is when I want to write an introspective short fic, usually one where the speaker wants to tell another character something but can’t or is too scared to. I imagine it like the character writing a letter they never send.

I’ve linked three examples of Drarry fics where I’ve done this. They’re each a little different. One is more of a ‘thing character might not say’ fic, one is more of an actual story with plot in 1st person, and one is sort of a combination.

Combination

Internal Monologue

Story With Plot

Basically, think of it like you’re the character and you’re writing a chapter from their autobiography or a diary entry. It can be biased—it should be, no one telling their own story does it bias-free. This is your character’s self-indulgent, emotional, dramatic moment to reflect on something in their life.

If anyone wants me to elaborate I’m more than happy to, or if anyone has questions my asks and DMs are open. Again I by no means see myself as someone who is, like, A Writing Advice Person, but this approach helped me get into first person and I hope it helps you too!

I love this 💜💙

to celebrate hitting 5k on instagram i redrew one of my most popular pieces ever. the first version is by far my most reposted work and redrawing it in my current style felt like a well needed cleansing

the slytherin gang are cooler than you 2.0

Last Lines Challenge

I’ve done this before but I just got tagged by @steampunkserpent27 so I figured why not do it again! Here is the last line I just wrote for my wip. You can find the first chapters of it here 

It’s early, but they fall asleep anyways. Two boys enveloped in each other, all loose limbs and wild hair, spread out across snowy sheets.

Alright, I'm going to tag @phoebe-delia and @dykesiriusblack. Also @silver-de-vonne and @sorry-i-ship-drarry (I know I’ve tagged you both before but I had so much fun doing the tag a second time I felt like giving ya’ll an opportunity to do it again too). In addition anyone who sees this post and wants to join in please do 💜 

This is soooo interesting. So glad I stumbled upon this conversation I feel like I learned so much 💜💙

some of y’all with printed copies of fanfiction are going to die someday and your books will end up at the secondhand book shop and someone is just going to innocently pick up blorbo/shitto enemies to lovers and when i think of it this way let’s keep printing fanfiction