@drarrymicrofics Prompt: Love Letters

@drarrymicrofic’s prompt: love letters

drarry microfic

when draco found out it wouldn’t be long until harry would no longer wake by his side, in his arms, legs a tangled mess, under their covers anymore, draco could’ve sworn he wished the world ended right then. though, his grief wasn’t a lone man’s pie. in fact, the rest of the wizarding world sorrowfully cried too. money for harry’s chemotherapy was being swept off ruthlessly on one end, while draco’s nightmares of the potential death of his love came along on the other. it all seemed like a sick joke. just as their first anniversary as a married couple came around the corner, harry’s oesophageal cancer popped up like a twisted surprise. draco wouldn’t have guessed, though, if harry hadn’t complained of chronic chest pain or difficulty in swallowing—he just thought it was some kind of act in preparation for their first anniversary. like some kind of ongoing skit with a huge curveball to shock draco on the huge day with. though, he would’ve liked it if was kept that way. because as the days went by, the realization that harry just might not make it alive seemed to creep its way noisily–like a broken record–straight into draco’s head. it was quite the matter for him, of course. he never would’ve imagined things to fire back at the very last moment. heck, he didn’t imagine harry of all people to suffer oesophageal cancer. and it was as though harry wasn’t the only one with the short end on the stick, because draco’s mind seemed to slander him in the mud on the other end too. he started seeing visions, as though he was delusional and couldn’t differentiate between reality and what was in his mind. so, whenever draco walked around their now-empty apartment, he would vision a flicker of harry, trapped in their bed, yelling for help, crying and pounding on the sheets, but whenever draco ran to him to aid, harry would sink and disappear into the bed, leaving draco surrounded in his sorrow. draco did tell his mind healer about all of these visions though, and she did suggest draco try to pen his thoughts down. having lost her own child to the ruthless, hunting monster that is cancer, she confessed that writing her feelings down did help for her to visualize them to work on. and draco thought this was a pretty damn genius idea, except he had a little twist to it. instead of making the letter all about himself and what he called his “oh so poor little miseries”, he decided on writing love letters to harry instead. this way, he would give harry as well as himself something to look forward to every day, compared to usual days where he would stride into harry’s ward with his eyes and nose as though dipped in red paint, tear strains a never-ending pour. and so he did. draco poured all his love he would’ve given harry into the form of letters. he figured that writing was indeed his forte, as he elegantly scorched the paper with his undying love for harry. and it did pay off, because at the end, the flashing smile harry gave him after he was done with the day’s letter made draco’s heart soar, as though he fell in love all over again. soon enough, about three anniversaries later, harry managed to beat his oesophageal hell of a cancer and even came home with two boxes filled with four years worth of daily love letters from his husband. as heavy as it was, though, how could he complain? life and love were truly a mystery, and he was only blessed to have explored all strange corners of them with draco all along.

my heart goes out to anyone with cancer. you are so strong and i believe that you have the fight to beat it. you are so fucking amazing and i literally love you🤎🤎🤎🤎

âme et larmes—soul & tears

drarry drabble:

italics: draco // normal: harry

“and of course am i lying. i’m always lying.

i have always lied,

to you.

because if i told you the truth, you would think i’m insane.”

“and you never thought about me?

us?

not even a ‘what if’”

“i don’t deserve you.

so i act like it doesn’t exist. like you don’t exist.

we aren’t made for this. we aren’t (silence)

possible.”

and harry only ever wished for draco to have his mind with him, to trust, to believe he deserved love. to understand he could love harry, his fucking enemy, to see that they had a chance with each other. but draco? he chose not to.

i love this please let me marry you

The Valentine’s Curse

Feb 9th

“What have you done to your hair, Malfoy?!” Potter accused when he caught sight of Draco, he sounded scandalized.

Draco paused his chopping of a piece of mandrake leaf and spared a glance at his Potions partner, who had just entered the classroom, in exasperation. “Since when do you care?”

“I do care,” Potter said indignantly and Draco was mildly aware of pairs of eyes turning on him in the classroom, “When your hair’s gone pink!”

Draco’s hands self-consciously went up to his hair, currently in a shade of pale pastel pink, to fix it. “If you don’t like it, kindly look somewhere else,” he murmured under his breath, tossing the chopped ingredients to Potter’s side of the table.

“And then when our potion fails again, you’ll blame it on me even it is you who told me to look elsewhere,” Potter sassed back, eyes still squinted at Draco as he carelessly threw the mandrake leaves into the bubbling cauldron, ignoring the way Draco tried to stop him.

“At least I still have good hair, even when it’s pink. Unlike you, with your bird’s nest.” Said Draco cooly.

____

Feb 10th

Draco sat at the dinner table, his stomach screaming protests of hunger at him, yet he could not even force down a bread roll.

Eventually, he decided enough was enough. Grabbing his plate, he stood up and stomped all the way to the Gryffindor table.

“Potter.” He spat out towards said person’s direction, “Are you done staring at me the whole day? You have your 6th year stalker face on again. ”

“No?” Potter whispered back, even though no one in the Gryffindor table cared enough to pay attention to the pair, “It’s just. Your hair. It’s very distracting.”

Draco witnessed as a strange look slipped onto Potter’s face, and a glint in his eyes as he kept on looking at the pink hair. Draco was aware that his own face heated up slightly. It must be the embarrassment. “Well, it is not my fault that my hair is pink.”

“You didn’t dye it?” Potter asked faintly. But he already had his eyes fully trained on the pale pink strands that were falling in front of Draco’s face. Draco did not do well with confrontation. So when Potter currently had his full focus on his person, he blushed deeper.

Draco scowled. “I was cursed.”

“It looks like bubblegum,” Potter continued in awe, completely ignoring Draco, “Looks so soft.”

Draco struggled to flip him off. And then promptly stomped all the way back to his table, blocking out the chatter of Potter’s voice behind him.

___

Feb 11th

“So, why is your hair still pink?” Potter plopped down sans invitation beside Draco on the sofa in the 8th year common room, and like always, poked his nose in Draco’s business.

“Go away, Potter.” Draco groaned loudly.

“Can I touch it?” Potter voice slipped back into the soft, wondrous tone yesterday at the table. His hands reached out and moved towards Draco’s direction.

“What - No! Stop it, you wanker,” Draco hurried to bat Potter’s hands off his hair. And Potter turned baby crup eyes on him. Draco squared his face. “You are not permitted to touch!”

“But it looks nice. Edible.” Potter said quietly, his bright eyes wider than usual, dreamy around the edges.

A twisty, unknown feeling creeped into Draco’s gut. Flustered, he attempted to shake Potter out of his weird reverie.

“Potter…Are you even in the right mind?”

____

Feb 12th

“Oh. Not again.” Draco had to stop himself from yelling in frustration when foreign fingers made their way into his, still, pink hair.

He reached up to catch Potter in the act. And the Gryffindor didn’t even look guilty. Instead, he continued running his fingers across Draco’s scalp, leaving tingles behind all the way down his spine. Draco wasn’t even sure what he was supposed to be feeling anymore.

“It really is soft as it looks.” Potter said, as he reluctantly said down beside Draco again.

“So, who cursed you?” He asked, and Draco was glad that he was not back to his weird staring mood. It unnerved Draco from the insides.

“I don’t know,” Draco shrugged, resigned to the fact that he would not be able to study anymore, “It was the Valentine’s Curse. I think it was either Blaise or Pansy.”

Potter gaped at him. “Slytherins curse each other?”

“Oh, it is all good fun,” Draco said, “It is not like you Gryffindors don’t hex each other. When was the last time you did it, Potter?”

Potter face turned sheepish. “Well, I made Hermione’s quill write in incorrect spellings in the DADA quiz yesterday.”

Draco raised his eyebrows. “There you have it. Apparently, my friends are somehow, by a miracle, convinced that I have taken up with a secret boyfriend, which I don’t have one obviously. And they thought it would be a good idea to put the Valentine’s Curse on me and turn my hair pink.”

“What does this curse do?” Potter asked, and shifted closer to Draco.

“Honestly, Potter, do you ever listen in class.” Draco said, and as if it was really testing his patience, he added, “It was supposed to cause the hair of whoever I kiss turn pink as well. So everyone knows, and some bullshit like that.”

Potter merely nodded and tilted his head to a side, peering at Draco’s hair again. Eventually, he said with a strange smile, “But it is a nice colour.”

Draco frowned.

____

Feb 13th

“I see you’re still not done with your weird infatuation with my hair.” Draco pointed out, when he could feel Potter’s gaze in his direction in their shared Transfiguration class.

“Yeah, so?” Potter shrugged. And the bugger had the dignity to take that as a cue to walk up to Draco.

“Seriously, if this is your way to pester your former rival into submission, bug someone else.” Draco turned away from the nosy Gryffindor and opted to focus on conjuring a ball of green light.

Contrary to Draco’s expectation, Potter laughed. “Sorry, I don’t bother that anymore,” he twirled his wand mindlessly between his fingers. Draco tried not to focus on that. “Y’know, I used to think blond hair looks good on you. But now I think the pink works just as well.”

It took a moment for the words to go through Draco’s mind. And when he turned to Potter abruptly, Potter was regarding him with an even look. “Hold on…Are you saying you think my hair looks good?”

“Well, I thought that was obvious all along. However, having good hair did not make you less of a prick.” 

A teasing grin stretched on the prat’s face, as he brushed past Draco. Draco growled slightly after him.

____

Feb 14th

“It’s Valentine’s Day, Malfoy.” Potter said when he approached Draco in an almost empty common room, curled up in a corner on a sofa with a book in his lap.

“And?” Draco said, not taking his eyes off his text.

“Do you reckon pink hair will look good on me?” Potter asked randomly, sliding up to Draco’s spot.

Draco leaned slightly back from the sudden proximity. “I don’t know? What does that have to do with me. Dye it to see for yourself, Potter.”

A mischievous smirk made its way to Potter’s face, getting oddly closer yet. “Yeah?” He whispered, warm breath almost tickling into Draco’s space, “You think I should find out myself?”

“Uhh…You do you?” Draco said hesitantly, blushing faintly as Potter’s eyes were for once not on his hair, but on his face.

“Great. Thank you for your input.” Potter said, a light of excitement clear on his face. Draco felt like he missed something very important.

He realized what it was, when Potter’s lips pressed to his.

(and then draco kissed harry, fingers tangled in newly pink hair)

______________________________________

(i can’t get the idea of draco with pink hair and slightly oblivious draco out of my head)

(sorry i just have to do something for valentine’s day)

(like it?)

underneath the moonlight

drarry headcanon:

its around 3 in the morning, and the only source of light draco and harry have is the moon. that too, is quite faint. the two boys are on a field of dandelions, with “The Swan” by Saint-Saens playing tenderly in the back. draco holds out his albino hands for harry to hold, and harry takes it gingerly as he locks his thumb around the side of draco’s hands. draco places his other on harry’s waist, and harry places his own on draco’s shoulder. the both of them—as though practiced—swift their hips to the beat of the piece, their eyes not any where but on each other’s. and the both of them think, “forever”, as they let their love guide their feet through the night.

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.

draco malfoy, age 30, giggling at the sight of his husband tripping on his own two feet, his heart tugging strings as he thinks about how it went from how do i love you to how could i stop.

draco malfoy, age 11, lying face down on his satin canopy bed, crying because potter won’t be his friend.

draco malfoy, age 14, absolutely despising potter and his group of “friends” while simeltaneously trying to get their attention in any and every possible way.

draco malfoy, age 16, realizing that half of him loathes potter and his stupid hair and his stupid laugh and his stupid smile while the other-and more demanding-half of him might….how you say? feel the literal exact opposite.

draco malfoy, age 18, desperately trying to suffocate the long-lasting crush he’s been harboring for potter as he watches the man he (might) love move on from hogwarts and the war and him.

draco malfoy, age 21, pressesd against the wall of a muggle club, lip-locked with a messy-haired stranger in an effort to forget about a certain someone who shall not be named (no, not that he-shall-not-be-named).

draco malfoy, age 24, trying (and failing) to act as non-chalaunt as possible when harry bleeding potter grabs his wrist in the middle of diagon alley, looks him in the eyes, tells him he’s been thinking about him a lot recently and asks him to join him for a cuppa.

draco malfoy, age 25, feeling entirely content for the first time in possibly ever as he wakes up in his apartment to the sound of potter’s loud-ass snores and the feeling of potter’s leg curled against his.