Art Of Love

art of love

drarry/bxb headcanon:

its the 5th of june 1997. the summer sun is down, the birds aren’t chirping anymore, and there isn’t a cloud in sight. the lights are out, and people sleep in debt to the moon’s rays.

back in a small apartment in the stubby streets of london, lay two men upon one another, in silence that is as though bestowed upon silk. all that feeds the ear is the terder noise of the fire cracking in its place. and all that feeds the mind is the unfathomable thoughts about one another. but what feeds the soul, what is it that it devours, speaks to, leans in to, you may ask. that is, the language of love—kisses, touches, hugs, sighs, tears and smiles. love.

broken eternity

tw // death

drarry microfic:

draco managed a minuscule yelp through his eternal despair, as he slumped against harry’s cold, hard, shaking body on the floor. with one hand tightly gripping the corner of his lower right abdomen, draco had his eyes shut as the pain that echoed from his belly button started inflaming his appendix, too. harry looked down at the anguished blond on his lap, as he raised his palm to caress draco’s cheeks while there was still life in his body. a hot tear drop jogged down his cheek, before another, and another, and another drowned draco’s face below. silence filled the air. not one bestowed upon silk, not one to appreciate. this silence made the air cold, as though daggers flamed through each corner of the room. silence that reminded the two men the candle was dripping, and soon it would vanish. silence that reminded them that time was soon to be out.

“you never told me you had appendicitis, draco” harry managed through his cries.

“harry..i-” but draco could feel his voice faltering. the life in his body slowly escalated further and further off until he could feel it only at the tip of his fingers, barely able to grasp back.

“i love you” draco slurred, and suddenly all the pain he felt vanished as he let his eyes take one more look at the man he’s come to love since the tender age of 15, before closing in termination. his ears could only pick up the hue of a hospital van, and the vociferous cry of his husband above him. it was too late.

harry: *standing before his mirror in his dorm room and smoothing out the small crinkles in his robe when he notices draco standing up from his (harry’s) bed and proceeding to gingerly wrap his arms around harry’s waist from behind*

harry: hey lol haha *cock starts twitching violently*

hermione: come on, harry. you can’t keep doing this every night! we’ve all been watching you.

ron: yeah! honestly, mate, im really concerned. he’s really getting into your head — isn’t he? damn.

seamus: listen to us harry, please? you’re living in a fantasy world and you need to realise it.

dean: yeah, harry. you’re becoming obsessed.

*entire gryffindor chimes in on agreement*

harry: sooo....

harry: *clears throat* anywayyyy...

entire gryffindor:

harry: guys come on lighten up a little.. enough with all the sick seriousness. help me pick which cutout of malfoy i should sleep with tonight please :(

oh god😩

Green

@secretlycrazyhummingbird requested 7. A color so vibrant and honest off my prompt list

Draco’s favorite color was always green.

When he was five his mother gave him a storybook full of illustrations of magnificent green dragons. He would look at those pictures for hours and hours.

When he was eight he learned that green was the color of Slytherin. He consequently demanded that his room be redecorated so that everything - his sheets, his pillows, his curtains - would be green. Narcissa obliged, of course, because she could never deny Draco of what he wanted.

When Draco was eleven he went to Diagon Alley to get all his supplies for the upcoming school year. He was being fitted for Hogwarts robes when he met another little boy who would be starting at Hogwarts in the fall. And what do you know, this boy has green eyes. And not just any type of green, a bright, vivid green, a color so vibrant and honest that it made Draco’s heart skip a beat. For some reason when Draco got home, his green bedroom seemed a little bit off. That Slytherin shade of green just wasn’t his favorite color anymore. He needed a shade of green that matched the little boy’s eyes. So Draco went to tell his mother about the problem with his room.

“It’s just not the right green, Mother! We have to change it!”

Narcissa sighed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Draco. It’s the exact same color as the Slytherin seal, and that’s what you wanted isn’t it?”

“But-”

“No more arguing,” Draco’s father interrupted. “Your mother said your room is fine so your room is fine, understand?”

“Yes, father.”

When Draco was eleven and a half he was glad that his mother hadn’t changed his room, because by this point he’d realized that the boy from the robe shop was nothing special, even if his eyes were. The boy was actually Harry Potter, a horribly nasty git who thought Draco wasn’t good enough to be his friend. Harry Potter was Draco’s worst nemesis, and it was blessing that he wouldn’t have to be faced with Potter’s eye color every time he went home to the Manor.

When Draco was fourteen he changed his mind about Potter. Potter was infuriating, yes, and imprudent, yes, but he was also maddeningly gorgeous. And once Draco realized how handsome Potter was, he started to realize other things about Potter too. Like the way Potter would scratch the back of his neck when he was at a loss for words and the way he’d scrunch up his eyebrows when he was trying to understand something and the way Potter would run his fingers through his beautiful mess of hair without a thought and the way he smiled. By the end of fourth year, Draco had developed something like a crush. He, of course, made sure that no one except for Pansy found out about it.

When Draco was sixteen he was forced to grow up and forget about his schoolboy crush. Potter was not something Draco could afford to think about while he had his mission. Still, he sometimes found himself daydreaming about the green of Potter’s eyes when he was supposed to be writing letters on his progress to his father. Draco was still sixteen when Potter hit him with Sectumsempra. Those green eyes were all he could see as drifted into unconsciousness.

When Draco was seventeen green became his least favorite color. By Easter, he had seen the green of Avada Kedavra two hundred and four times. It was becoming difficult to go into his green-filled room without sicking up. And then Harry Potter appeared. And suddenly green was again the most beautiful color he’d ever seen. He told his father he didn’t know the boy, but of course he was lying. He would know those eyes anywhere.

When Draco was eighteen when he learned that Harry Potter found Draco’s grey eyes just as enamoring as Draco found his green eyes.

“I think that’s why grey is my favorite color now,” Harry said.

“Green was always my favorite color,” Draco said.

“Well, yeah, because of Slytherin.”

“No. Because I love you.”

“Oh.”

Draco turned his head to the side to look at the boy lying next to him in the grass. Harry’s eyes were still on the stars above them.

“You don’t have to love me back,” Draco said.

Harry was smiling when he looked back at Draco.

“I know I don’t have to, but I do. I love you, Draco.”

“Then stop smiling like a loon and kiss me.”

@drarrymicrofic ’s prompt: roadtrip

drarry microfic/headcanon:

handling the steering wheel while humming the latest song by popular rock band of the 1990s—Nirvana, harry was sure to mark down this day as the best of his life. he never seemed to falter when it came to belting out the lyrics that failed to leave his mind, nor when it came to shunning draco off whenever he tried to make a small talk because shh draco! this is the best part of the song. and all draco could do is huff over how harry’s been saying that for the past 30 minutes over “some crazy muggle song” he’s been having on replay. but when harry finally convinced himself to stop the music so he could pay some attention to the grumpy, thrown off husband of his, he realises he’s asleep (with a rather prominent frown on his face.) harry just bursts out laughing, loud enough to feel satiated but still soft enough to not wake the sleeping beauty up, so he could capture this memory in his film camera before the traffic signal flagged green again. with a giddy smile playing on his lips, harry reaches a hand down to gingerly interlace his fingers with draco’s, making sure to pay more attention to him when he wakes up somewhere along their 18 hour drive to North Carolina.