Harry: You Are Extra As Fuck, Draco

Harry: you are extra as fuck, Draco

Draco: I'm not..

Harry : oh come on, you were ready to move to France because you liked french croissant

Heartstopping

Draco pushes the door open throwing his keys in the bowl, Harry hot on his heels. "Why are you being so irrational. I don't care that Flint is an international Quidditch player. I don't want him. I want you! I love you!" he finishes with a huff and is met with stunned silence.

Harry's face goes through a gamut of emotions before he whispers, "That's the first time you've said it."

"What?"

"I love you; it's the first time you've said that to me."

Draco's heart stops for a second before he pulls Harry into a tight embrace. "Oh sweetheart, of course I love you," he whispers wetly, peppering kisses on Harry's face as he proceeds to tell him how much he loves him.

@drarrymicrofic May Prompt #6 - Heartstopping

Draco listening to "love of my life"

Draco *singing to green apple* : Baby you are the love of my life

Harry *looking at camera like in the office*: it's like I'm not even there

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written? 💚💚

Honestly that's harder than physics because I don't think I can ever even give any of my fic favourite title but since you asked me with 2 hearts in the end, I'll try to answer.

I think personally my 3rd masterlist fics are among my favourites but here's a few I personally find good enough (couldn't decide one) (answering this made me go back some of the fics I wrote last year and forgot how good they were)

Would you come back to me? (this will always hold a special place for me )

All too well

Love is a choice

Because its you and me

In another life, in another time

Your tine safe box

Palace de elite

Phantom of the future

In the heart of rome

You loved me first but I loved you last

Like I said, I couldn't pick one from 183 fics I've written... Thank you so much for asking though and immensely sorry for answering so late, my schedule has been really tight recently..

Blossomed

“Thought I’d find you here.”

He opened one eye slowly, blinking at the bright light. “Oh no. My secret hiding spot is ruined.”

Laughter rang through the orchard as a heavy figure landed next to him. Draco wasn’t sure if he’s been asleep, exactly, but it felt like waking up; the world was a bit hazy, fuzzy around the edges. The smell of apple blossoms now fused into something heavier, orange and musky.

“Alberto said you like to come here before your shifts.”

He let out a long-suffering sigh. “Alberto talks too much.”

“Nah, he’s alright. I sort of bribed him into it. There were pies involved and everything, I didn’t leave the poor bloke much of a choice.”

Now Draco opened both eyes. Po—Harry was leaning against a trunk beside him, and his whole face was one big smile.

“Well, that,” was all Draco managed for a minute and a half. “I mean. That’s cheating.”

That made him laugh. “I didn’t realise it was against the rules.”

“There aren’t rules. I just thought… why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you ask about me?” Draco wrapped an arm around his knees. That was the tip of the iceberg, really, of all the questions burning on his tongue: why are you still here and surely they miss you back home and was it on purpose, the other night?

Harry frowned like he didn’t understand. “Because I wanted to see you?”

Draco shook his head, and the shadow of the wide brimmed hat danced above his eyes. “You were supposed to go back last week. You have your recipes, there’s nothing more on the island for you.”

“Nothing more?” green eyes opened wide, sad.

“What more would you—” swallowing didn’t use to be such an ordeal—“want?”

Harry took a deep breath, and the nerves that were so evident on him a second ago melted into something comfortable and warm, something fond. “I thought I made that clear.”

“You don’t… be serious.”

“I am.” He scooted closer on the ground, and Draco didn’t know whether to lean towards him or run away. “I thought you knew why I came to the restaurant every day.”

“You wanted… Alberto has the…”

A hand startled him, gentle under his chin. Draco was so entranced by the smile he missed it coming. “He gave me everything I needed the first week. After that, I only came for you.”

He could only blink in response. Harry tipped Draco’s hat upwards, so it wouldn’t hit his nose. Then, with a groan, removed it altogether.

“You have to know, don’t you? How I feel. After that night.”

That night, in this very orchard, with only the stars and the apples to bear witness, when they danced to the chirping of grasshoppers and flies until they collapsed on the warm ground. Draco blinked at the smiling, freckled face.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Are you joking?” Harry asked, although he was the one laughing. “I’ve been so obvious, everyone—oh, Draco. You’re such a brilliant, wonderful idiot.”

“Takes one,” he murmured before he had any time to think. “Wait, so. The reason you stayed is… what you wanted was…”

“You, you marvelous twit,” now they were both laughing, with awe and relief and bewilderment, “I wanted you. Of course, for you.”

The light was so bright without his hat, it was harder to make the surroundings. Only Harry’s face, so close; only the little lines around his eyes, the unwavering way his smile went even wider, even softer.  

“Alberto thought maybe you were settling in,” Draco admitted breathlessly. “That you wanted to open your own place down here.”

“Or maybe work with you,” was Harry’s impossible, nonsensical reply, and he was entirely serious. Draco’s heart did something strange in his chest, tight and weightless.

“If Alberto agrees.”

They shared a quick, almost-chuckle. “If you’ll have me.”

“Yes.” He said the first without thinking. Then, after a minute: “Yes, of course.”

They looked at each other. The world smelled of apple blossom, of oranges and sweat and smiles and soft hands. The orchard rang with the raucous beating of his heart: a chaotic, elated melody, of summer, of happiness.

Mr July

Witch Weekly puts out a fundraising calendar every year, titled ‘Britain’s Hottest Wixen’. It’s tacky and overpriced and features an unreasonable number of Weasleys.

And Draco would know, because every single year, without fail, he buys at least twenty-seven copies.

For charity, of course.

It’s just a happy coincidence that Harry is always Mr July. 

It’s also a happy coincidence that they invariably put Harry in tight trunks that do nothing to hide his, um, assets. So, although it’s March, the calendar in Draco’s office is open to July.

Draco’s willing to admit that Ginevra Weasley, Ms March herself, is objectively attractive. But he doesn’t fancy her nearly as much as Pansy does, and well…Harry James Potter in a tiny bathing suit is far more inspiring than girl-Weasley in a Quidditch kit.

Draco’s a bit too preoccupied drooling over Harry’s muscular thighs to hear the knock at his door, and once a head of messy curls peeks around the corner, Draco’s a bit too preoccupied by Harry’s presence to hide his drooling. 

Or his calendar.

“Hey Draco, just wanted to see if…” Harry trails off as he peers over Draco’s shoulder, before pointing exactly where Draco does not want him to point. “What’s that?”

“Nothing,” Draco says, determinedly not looking at Harry or the wall—he’s staring five centimetres to the left of Harry’s right ear and pretending that his life is not spinning wildly out of control.

“It’s March.”

“I’m aware of the date.”

Harry’s lips twitch. “Are you aware it’s 2009?”

Fuck.

It’s certainly not Draco’s fault that 2004 features Harry in tight green trunks…and soaking wet as he pulls himself from a pool. He’s so bloody gorgeous it should be illegal and, after all, Draco is only a man—with eyes—who’s been in love with the ridiculous wanker for his entire life.

“My mistake,” Draco says coolly, praying for a rogue Dark Lord to put him out of his misery.

“I was going to ask you to lunch…but maybe dinner would be better?” Harry cocks his head, grinning with the oh-so-annoying dimple in his cheek that sends Draco’s heart racing. “Come to mine, around eight. I’ll make lasagne.”

“I—wait, what?”

“Here’s my Floo address. Bring wine, I’ve only got the cheap stuff.”

Harry presses a kiss to Draco’s cheek before bounding out the door. 

Draco’s staring at the scrawl of Harry’s address, his brain making a pitiful attempt at catching up with whatever the hell just happened, when Harry leans around the door.

“And, just so you know,” Harry says with a wink, “I got to keep the trunks.”

For the very talented and very wonderful @mintamintathings. I took a few liberties with the word count and the prompt ‘what, this?’ because it’s a no-rule Thursday! I may have also initially misread the prompt and ended up here…but who knows for sure, certainly not me.

For my Somewhat Summer Drarry Drabbles.