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flufftober prompt 1 - lost pet meet cute

a/n: yes I know BB8 is not a pet, but he's pretty damn close and it's my fic anyway.

cw: fluff, strangers to lovers, poe being Sassy, reader is afab and racially ambiguous. she works as a comms officer.

The fields were quiet this early in the morning. You took the long way to your station, through the winding trails of the Yavin base. The foliage was glowing softly in the early morning sun. Even the birds were still rousing, lazy cooing peppering the silence. A warm cup of caf hugged to your chest completed the picturesque morning.

You stood on a hill, looking at the shining metal hangar from afar. So many pilots and techs rousing to go save the galaxy.

But your favorite had yet to arrive. In the recent weeks, you'd met a friend that made this morning walk even better.

"Hey, bud," you grinned at the fast-approaching metal ball. A BB unit, scuffed orange and white, whirred a happy greeting and bumped against your ankles. Giving his antennae a little shake, you extended your hand.

"Walk with me?"

A small metal arm protruded from his side, which you gently took in your palm. Slower, so that the little droid didn't get caught on a root, you two made your way towards the Comms tower.

He belonged to somebody; his condition was too nice to be a rogue. But nobody had filed a missing report, and he always went back to his pilot by the time your shift started. Besides, you had a soft spot for BBs. Their big black eyes made your heart melt.

That sweet morning moment warmed your chest throughout the whole day, even as a stressful mission tore at your nerves. He'd be at the same place in the evening to walk you back.

What a little gentleman.

Today was an event. Even arriving early, you'd scrambled to get in place before the first squadron took off. There was a mixup on the schedule, so half the shift showed up late and the other half had to cover three different missions at once. No caf had been shipped on time, so the cup you had that morning sustained you - barely - for the rest of the day.

All in all, you were fucking exhausted.

The suns were setting quickly. You stared out the window, a yawn cracking your jaw. Somebody tapped your arm.

"You look wiped, babe, wanna ride with me? Taryn will drive," your friend Anya said, concern knitting her brow. For a moment, your heart ached to leave your little buddy, but he'd understand. A walk would not help your exhaustion.

Nodding, you loaded into her land cruiser and promptly knocked out. It felt like a blink before your stumbled into your tiny hut, tearing off your boots and falling into bed. You'd wash the sheets later.

Somewhere around midnight, an incessant whirring pulled you from your den of sleep. Groaning, you squinted at your watch.

"Whassat?" you croaked, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders. Something was outside, cracking sticks and scuffling in the mud Probably a rat.

Beeep. Beep beep beep-

Not a rat.

Frowning, you peeked out the window. A familiar white dome was darting in and out of the bushes, rolling faster than you'd ever seen him.

"Bud?"

You poked your head out the door, shivering at the cool air. The movement stopped. You puffed out a cloud, trying to find your friend. A familiar whir, then an eighty-pound metal droid collided with your knees. Howling, you stumbled back inside.

"Dude -fuck- buddy, chillout, your metal is like a frozen rock," you hissed, any remnants of sleep shocked from your mind. He chirped apologies, rolling around you in fast circles.

"Sorry I left, I was tired." You patted his side. BB-8 let out an indignant crackle and you snorted.

"Damn, didn't know this was such a big deal."

Standing, you yawned. "Thanks for the check in, dude, but I gotta go back to-"

"GET AWAY FROM MY DROID!"

fucking what the-

You dropped the blanket and screamed, falling backwards into a pile of leaves. BB-8 whined shrilly, a short electric pop shocking you from his surprise. An enormous crashing sound, and a shadowed man burst through the underbrush, blaster raised. A squad of birds took off at the massive arrival and swarmed your hut.

BB-8 immediately approached the man, whirring so fast his hubcap started emitting steam. The man dropped to his knee and started whispering back and forth, too quiet for you to hear. Not that you cared, you were trying to become as small as possible underneath your ratty blanket.

this is why we don't take random animals home, your mother's voice echoed, they always belong to somebody.

Well, she shoulda mentioned something about droids.

"Um, excuse me?"

You froze. The man cleared his throat and you heard him step closer. Carefully, you craned your neck to peek from under the quilt.

"Uh, hi," he waved, still shrouded in darkness. You blinked back, dumbfounded. BB-8 stayed close to this guy's ankles, clearly encouraging.

"H-hello?" you croaked, sitting up when you realized he had pocketed the blaster.

"Sorry about that," he laughed sheepishly, his silhouette rocking on his heels. "I uh, I thought something else was going on."

"I gathered that," you sighed, brushing the dirt and crud off of your pants. The blanket was trashed; you'd wash it later. Laundry day suddenly just got bumped up. Any remnants of sleep were gone.

BB-8 chirped softly and you smiled. "Yeah, I figured I had to meet your pilot one of these days."

The man looked at the droid. "How'd you know I was a pilot?"

"...BB units ae specifically assigned to pilots."

"Oh." He cleared his throat again and shifted his stance. The silence was beginning to be uncomfortable, and you really wanted to go back to bed.

"I-"

"Well-"

Both of you laughed this time, and you opened the door a little wider, initial hesitation gone. "Would you like to come in?" You offered.

The man shook his head. "No, I've taken up enough time. And besides, Beebs needs a cleaning." The little droid sputtered and smoked.

"Don't fuss, little man, or I'll use the yellow sponge."

Terrified, the droid zipped into the underbrush. You waved goodbye and shook your head. Never a dull day. Or night.

"Captain's got something for ya," one of your coworkers mumbled in your ear, clapping your shoulder. Frowning, you set aside your headset and peeked into the control room. Your amused commander was watching BB-8 carefully balance a tray on his little round head.

"Buddy?"

He beeped and slowly rolled over, spinning wildly to avoid dropping his precious cargo. Precious indeed - a steaming cup of caf, fresh from the shipment. You mentally pumped your fists and grinned, snatching the hot cup from your little friend.

A sticky note was attached to the side.

thanks for babysitting - Poe

You weren't sure who the fuck Poe was, but he was a gem for sending coffee, so you weren't complaining. Taking a long, grateful drag of your liquid gold, you gave Beebs an appreciative pet and saluted your captain. She smirked and gestured to the hall.

"The delivery man wanted to speak with you," she said airily, winking. Affronted by her weird attitude, you apprehensively followed BB into the hall.

Leaning against a set of control panels was one of the most attractive men you'd ever seen. Is that the guy??

Upon seeing you, he jolted to a straighter position and stuck out his hand.

"Hi," he breathed, "Poe Dameron. Sorry about--last night, that was, um, yeah, sorry," he said, scratching his neck. You were too absorbed in his deep brown eyes to register his nervousness.

"Yeah, sure thing," you mumbled, blinking back into focus. Damn, you didn't know pilots could be that pretty. Even sweaty helmet hair suited him.

BB looked between you, unsure of who to nudge first. He picked his pilot, bumping gently into his boots and sending up hopeful coos. You rocked on your heels.

"Uh, I have to get back, but thanks for the caf," you said, smiling. Poe looked up from petting his droid to send a dazzling grin up at you.

Feeling like a ball of joy, you floated back to your position and spent the rest of the day spacing out in amazement.

In an instant, you were trudging back up the hill, BB at your ankles. It was a cooler day; the Yavin summer was turning quickly into monsoon season. You needed to hurry home to put up the rain shields.

Stopping to catch your breath, you shrieked when a large hand closed over your shoulder.

"Shit-sorry," Poe hissed, backing off and nearly tripping over BB. "Sorry, sorry, I only wanted to walk with you. Shit, are you okay?"

You were doubled over, desperately trying to calm your rocketing heartbeat. Could you ever have a normal conversation with this man?

"Fine," you gasped, righting yourself. Poe's gaze softened and he smiled. Clearly he'd showered and a divine glow was shimmering around his hair. Again with the lethal face card, this guy. As if breathing wasn't hard enough already.

Naturally as blinking, Poe took your bag from your shoulder and helped you over the hill, walking arm in arm. Were you dreaming? He smelled wonderful, and he chatted amicably as you walked. There was a certain charm radiating off of him - one that drew you in like a magnet.

BB whirred contentedly between you, occasionally throwing in his two cents as you teased each other over rank.

"For a Commander you're awfully uncoordinated," you poked, to which he responded with a dramatic eye roll and a "careful, you don't wanna get demoted."

You felt a twinge of disappointment as your hut came into view. Poe's grip tightened then released.

"Thanks for the walk," you said, admiring the way the sun fell on his eyes. He smiled and they twinkled brighter.

"Sure. 7 tomorrow?"

You blinked. "Sorry?"

"Your shift," he elaborated, "you leave for work at 7. I'll meet you here. Beebs told me," he added at your suspicious look. A shamefully loud giggle threatened to break out of your mouth, but you coughed to cover it.

"Yeah, that sounds good."

"See you then, sweetheart," he called over his shoulder. You waved, keeping your composure until the door closed, after which you screamed into a pillow and never stopped smiling.

"You left out the best part," Poe whined, nudging your shoulder. You cocked your head, sipping the tall flute of champagne.

'Whaddya mean? That's literally the-"

"What about the part where you fell shamelessly in love with me the second our eyes met in the darkness and you couldn't resist my rugged charm?" He pouted, fluttering his dark lashes.

"Poe," you chastised, tapping his nose, "it was dark, I couldn't see you at all. It coulda been Finn for all I knew. Or General Ackbar."

He gagged animatedly at the thought as your audience guffawed. The warmth of the night blossomed in your chest, and you adjusted the straps of your dress.

"Can we go home soon?" Poe asked, leaning against your shoulder. His day-old stubble scratched pleasantly on your skin.

You raised an eyebrow, glancing at the clock. "Really, dear?"

"I'm tired, and you look real pretty, and I think I read somewhere it's inappropriate to undress in public, so...please?" If it wasn't your wedding that you were hosting and that you needed to attend, the doe-eyed look he was giving you might have tipped the scales. But you hadn't even cut the cake yet.

"No way, Commander, you still need to prove yourself on the dancefloor."

"After?"

"Only if you walk me back," you murmured, kissing him warmly on the lips.

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Heart in hand

800 words • gen • sheith

Shiro is in love. Now he just has to say so.

[Read the fic on AO3] ... or under the cut, because it's smol ;)

“Hey, Keith. I was wondering if- if you and I, maybe…” Shiro sighs. “I like you. I really like you.”

No.

“I love you, Keith.”

“I’m in love with you. I’ve loved you forever. I can’t remember when it started, I just.” He swallows. “You’re all I think about.”

Shiro shakes his head. He tries to put on a smile.

“Keith! Wow, you look great. You always do.” Shiro does smile, then, feeling warmth in his chest at the thought of Keith’s sharp features, so handsome and soft at once, and the sinful sway of his damn hips.

“Hey, let me buy you dinner.” Shiro pauses. “Please?”

Get it together, Shirogane, he groans inwardly. It’s just Keith. But Keith has never been just anything.

“You know,” he starts again. “Even after everything we’ve been through, there’s one thing I never told you. I- I’m not sure how you’ll react. I’m hopeful, I guess— the way you look at me sometimes, I can’t just be imagining that, can I?”

Your feelings, Shiro. Not his. Focus. Shiro squares his shoulders.

“You’re so important to me, Keith. More than anyone. You’re my most important person.”

Too vague.

“I’m so proud of all that you’ve become.”

Too mentor-ly.

“C’mon, have you seen yourself?” Shiro breathes a laugh. “You’re so hot, Keith, I feel like I’m losing my mind half the time. I mean, your ass—”

Too thirsty, he decides, his cheeks starting to burn even just in the bathroom mirror. It’s all true, though. He wants to be able to say those things, too.

Deep breath.

“How would you feel about a date,” he grins, a little coy, “you and me?”

But it’s not enough.

“Marry me?”

Too much. Arguably.

“I just… I don’t know how to do this,” he admits. “Maybe in general I do, but not with you, Keith. You’re my person. It just… it’s just how it is. I don’t know how to start something that feels like it’s already ours, like it’s right here and any move I make could throw us off course, pitch us both into a ravine.” His laugh is high with tension.

Shiro studies his eyes. God, he’s nervous and it shows. Keith’s not even here yet and he’s a wreck.

But shouldn’t he be nervous? This is important. It feels like the most important thing that Shiro’s ever done.

“I don’t want anything to change, Keith, and… I want everything to change. I want my best friend. I want you in my life always. Is that okay to say?”

Yes, that.

“I want so badly to kiss you and show you everything you mean to me. Make sure you know exactly who you are to me. I- I hope you want that, too.”

Shiro hears his door whoosh open just before Keith calls his name. He hurries to straighten his hair.

“Hey, there you are,” Keith says as he walks up behind him, eyes meeting over his shoulder in the bathroom mirror. Keith’s smile is easy, comfortable. He has grown so much. Shiro treasures that he gets to be here to see it.

Shiro wants to keep him.

He wants to be selfish, to ask for something he wants. It feels sometimes like Keith really would give him anything. And maybe that’s okay?

“Shiro?” Keith’s eyes soften. He doesn’t lose the smile. It’s his, now; he’s not so easily rocked off of his axis, no longer the boy who was ready to shut down before he had any chance of getting hurt. It feels like only yesterday, and a lifetime ago.

Shiro takes courage in the steadiness Keith has found, feeling like he has had some part in that, at least. He’ll take a little credit, knowing Keith’s magnificence is truly his own.

Keith hovers there, meeting Shiro’s eyes and waiting for him to speak his mind.

It’s a weighty thing, handing someone your heart. Or it would be, maybe, if Keith didn’t already hold his.

Struggling for words, Shiro acts instead and opens his arms in invitation. Keith’s face says it all— surprised and charmed, and perhaps a little embarrassed to be so pleased by his welcome. Keith is always welcome. It’s wonderful to see that he knows it.

Chest to chest, Shiro curls around Keith effortlessly, ready to melt right into his space. Keith makes a soft, contented sound, reminding Shiro’s body and his racing heart that he has a question for him. He just… has to start somewhere.

“Hey, Keith?”

“Yeah?”

“Wanna go riding with me?”

“Now?” Keith huffs as Shiro nods against his shoulder. He doesn’t say, It’s 8am. He doesn’t say, Don’t you have meetings, Admiral? He just curls closer. “Always.”

“Good. That’s, um. Good,” Shiro babbles, joy unfurling in his chest. “There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

❤️❤️❤️ fin 🖤🖤🖤

9 for Sterek? (It was so hard to pick one!)

#9 from this prompt list

It’s official. Stiles’ first year on the FBI payroll is going to end in murder. And it won’t even be the murder of someone cool and evil, or at least someone secretly supernatural and suspicious. No, it’ll be the fucker from two cubicles over who just responded to being introduced to Stiles’ “friend Derek” with a derisive snort, a side-eye, and after several tense seconds of forced conversation a muttered, “guess Stilinski really does get a boner for the perps,” as he walked away.

“I’m gonna kill him.”

Derek rolls his eyes, but that’s because Derek is too pure and good for this world and does not realize the severity of the situation.

Or, well, more likely because Derek doesn’t have a hair trigger response to people who wrong him. Even though he should.

“Listen, that little twerp over there by the hors d'oeuvres is talking about you right now, Derek, I can tell.”

“And I can actually hear him. So what?”

“He just called you a fugitive. To your face.”

Derek shrugs a shoulder. “I’m still a person of interest.”

“You were exonerated!”

Derek has the audacity to roll his eyes again. “This entire room is filled with FBI agents. I wasn’t exactly expecting to show up and have no one notice that my face used to be plastered all over your ‘most wanted’ boards.”

Keep reading

Comfort On Christmas Eve (FengQing Christmas Oneshot)

“What the fuck?”

That is the first thing that comes out of Feng Xin’s mouth when Mu Qing comes back to their apartment, soaked, posture absolute dogshit, and swaying back and forth like a drunk idiot.

Mu Qing stumbles wordlessly into their shared apartment and flops face down onto the couch like a rag doll. He looks absolutely pathetic, like a marionette whose strings had been cut. 

Feng Xin stares at him, bewildered at Mu Qing’s current state. For one thing, Mu Qing looks like someone just poured a whole bucket of water over his head and a typhoon made its way through his hair, for another, Mu Qing isn’t snarling and firing snarky remarks at Feng Xin the moment he walks in the door, instead, he just lies there, completely silent and letting the water from his wet hair and clothes drip to the floor. After several seconds of bewildered staring, Feng Xin finally says, “Oh my god, what the fuck happened to you, huh?”

Mu Qing doesn’t respond right away, instead, he groans and grumbles and sits up on the couch, he mutters something that Feng Xin doesn’t hear and flops back down. 

“What was that?” Feng XIn moves his head towards Mu Qing, trying to catch what Mu Qing just said. 

Mu Qing grumbles and mutters again. 

Feng Xin can’t hear him. “Dude, I still can’t hear you, speak up for god’s sake!” 

Mu Qing shoots up suddenly. “I said I left my umbrella at home!” he yells at Feng Xin and glowers at him through a thick curtain of wet hair that was still dripping with water.

“Then why didn’t you just come home?!” 

“That’s none of your business.” Mu Qing looks to the side and falls/sits back down on the couch. 

Feng Xin still isn’t satisfied. “Then why didn’t you just call for me to pick you up?”

“Phone died.” Mu Qing answers. “Also, why would I ask for you to pick me up? It’s not like we’re-” he stops there. “Nevermind.” He buries his face in his hands and leans forward so that Feng Xin can’t see his face. 

Feng Xin watches him with a face full of pity, when in fact, he’s feeling a lot more than pity right there. Questions swirled around in his mind about the

current state of Mu Qing and his attitude. Why is Mu Qing like this? Why is he back so late? Why isn’t he teasing and bitching at me right now? Normally, when he sees Mu Qing upset, he’d tease him about it, fully expecting for him to fire back with a snarky remark and that’d escalate into a verbal fight that ended in both of them sulking for an hour before moving on like nothing happened, but today? After seeing how Mu Qing was acting, Feng Xin didn’t have the heart to do that. There was just something that was so off about Mu Qing today, something negative, but Feng Xin can’t exactly put his finger on what.

“Hey, uh, are you okay?” Feng Xin reaches out a hand towards Mu Qing. 

Mu Qing looks back at him through his hands. “Of course I’m okay, what makes you think that I’m not okay?” 

Feng Xin thinks. Bitch, anyone with eyes could see that there is a lot of shit that’s not okay with you right now, stop lying.

Well, besides the obvious, the obvious being that Mu Qing came back home at a very late time in the night, he was drenched and shaking like a leaf, there was just something in his body language and overall attitude that was extremely unfamiliar to Feng Xin. He was used to Mu Qing sassing him around and snarking at him whenever he asked the simplest of questions, but there was none of that now, Mu Qing looked somber, muted, sad.

And Feng Xin wasn’t sure he knew how to deal with that. 

“Well for one, you just came back home at an ungodly time in the night, and for another, you are absolutely drenched, you’re shaking, and you don’t even seem to care that your precious pretty hair is pretty much ruined right now.” Feng XIn replies, specifically emphasizing the last point. Mu Qing cares a great deal about his hair, waking up at least half an hour earlier than Feng Xin every day to style it and flipping Feng Xin off whenever he mentions it. Feng Xin hoped that the hair comment would bring some of Old Mu Qing back, but to no avail. 

Mu QIng rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything. 

Feng Xin sighs. “I’m gonna go grab you a towel.” 

Feng Xin disappears into the other room for a towel, but instead of just handing his roommate the towel and having him dry himself off, he returns with a towel, a giant sweatshirt of his own and a hot cup of tea from the kitchen. He shoves the towel and sweatshirt in Mu Qing’s arms and sets the cup of tea in front of him. 

“There, dry yourself off and then change. God knows how much warmth the clothes you wear actually provide.”

But of course, because Mu Qing is literally the most difficult person on Earth, he doesn’t start drying himself off right away, instead, he just stares at the towel and sweatshirt and rubs them with his fingers every few seconds. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Feng Xin grabs the sweatshirt and towel and takes matters into his own hands. First, he starts to wring the water out of Mu Qing’s hair, and for good measure, grabs a brush and starts untangling his roommate’s messy wet hair as gently as he can, because god knows how big of a fuss Mu Qing will make out of Feng Xin handling his hair roughly. 

“Excuse me for this.” Feng Xin says as he removes Mu Qing’s jacket and sweater and wrestles him into the sweatshirt. He then shoves the cup of tea (which is still surprisingly warm despite the winter cold) into Mu Qing’s hands and wraps a blanket around the guy like he’s a baby. 

Throughout this entire process, Mu Qing is extremely docile, only offering occasional half-hearted remarks such as “Quit mother-henning me.” or “Oh my god you’re gonna regret this.” and “No way I’m getting in that.” (“Too bad” Feng Xin says as he jams the sweatshirt over Mu Qing’s head.) but never actually making any effort to make Feng Xin stop. 

By the time that Feng Xin is done, Mu Qing still isn’t acting like himself, Feng Xin finally decides he’s having enough of this and asks:

“Alright, what the fuck actually happend? You come home looking like a hurricane just went through you, and don’t do anything when I fuss all over you, so what the hell is going on?”

“I’m okay.” Mu Qing says, gripping the mug tighter. 

Bitch I thought we went over this. Feng Xin thinks to himself. “Oh really? Cause those tear tracks I saw while helping you would beg to differ.”

Fuck. Mu Qing thinks. 

Mu Qing takes a deep breath. “I got dumped.” 

Okay so that was unexpected. 

“Wh-what?” Feng Xin heard that correctly, right?

“I got dumped.” Mu Qing repeats. “I got ghosted by my date tonight, on Christmas Eve of all days. That asshole didn’t even bother to show up after we had talked for so long, and when I finally ask him out on a date, he accepts, but then doesn’t even bother to show his face! He didn’t even answer when I texted him, bitch just left me standing in the rain for a solid fucking hour.” Mu Qing wipes his tears on his sleeve “Happy now?” He looks at Feng Xin with watery eyes and finishes. 

Feng Xin is absolutely flabbergasted by this. How could anyone ghost Mu Qing? He couldn’t even think of the act. How could anyone make plans with Mu Qing and then ghost him? How could anyone think to go out with Mu Qing on a date, and then ghost him? And the fact that it was Mu Qing who asked the guy out, that made Feng Xin feel really unpleasant. 

“Oh… Oh my god. You got dumped.” Feng Xin says.

“Yeah, yeah. You don’t have to rub it in my face, you know.” Mu Qing glares at him, wiping more tears on his sweatshirt sleeve. 

“Holy shit you actually got dumped.” Feng Xin repeats. 

“What, is this funny to you or something?” Mu Qing glares at him. “Feng Xin, if the fact that I got dumped amuses you or something then I swear to god I will punch you in the face right here, right now.” 

“N-no,” Feng Xin holds up his hands. ‘It’s not funny to me whatsoever.”

Feng Xin scoots a little closer to him. “So, uh… do I know the guy that you got ghosted by?”

“Why the fuck would I let you know who I was “dating”? Also, why would you want to know?”

“Nothing, just curious.” Feng Xin tries to make it sound as inconspicuous as possible.

“Well then stop being curious.” Mu Qing sets down the cup of tea and wraps the blanket tightly around himself. 

Mu Qing stays like that for a bit, but Feng Xin knows that he wants to complain about the guy, and it only was a matter of time before he started to bitch again.

And said matter of time was literally five fucking seconds. Mu Qing unravels himself from the blanket and leans forwards at the coffee table. 

“Ugh.” Mu Qing picks up his phone and taps into Whatsapp. “You know, you’re lucky I haven’t blocked his number or deleted his contact yet.” He says as he scrolls through his Whatsapp chats. “Where the fuck is he…” he mutters as he looks for the chat of the guy he was chatting with. “Ah here we go.” he says and taps on the profile picture of What’s-His-Face and shoves the phone in Feng Xin’s face.

It was a very poorly taken selfie of the guy flexing shirtless in the bathroom mirror. Just the sight alone was enough to make Feng Xin cringe. “What? He looks like an idiot, I didn’t know you liked guys like that.”

“What my type is is none of your fucking business.” Mu Qing says as he shows Feng Xin a few messages between him and the man until he pulls away and blocks the guy’s contact and deletes every single photo that What’s-His-Face has ever sent him in his gallery. “Also, he kind of looks like you.” He adds teasingly.

“What?” Feng Xin is a little annoyed by that. “I do not look like that guy just there.”

“Oh really? I think you do.” Mu Qing teases. 

Feng Xin opens his mouth in protest but closes it quickly. Mu Qing wasn’t exactly wrong when he said that that guy looked like Feng Xin. Same body type, tanned skin from being in the sun a lot, and down to the bun on the top of his head. 

“Well then uh,” Feng Xin scoots a little closer to Mu Qing. “If this breakup has got you so down, you must’ve really liked him, huh?”

“Well, not exactly. We didn’t really know each other, it was just hookups every time we met in person. Hell, I don’t even know his birthday.” Mu Qing says.

“Then why are you so upset over the breakup then?” Feng Xin asks him. 

Mu Qing sighs. “It wasn’t the fact that we broke up or the fact that we broke up over text, but, what he said when we did.” he sets his phone down and buries his face in his hands. “Why am I telling you this? It’s not like you care.”

But Feng Xin does care, he cares much more than Mu Qing knows. “Well, tell me anyway.” 

Mu Qing sighs. “If you laugh, I’m gonna castrate you.” 

“I won’t.” 

“Well if you do then I’m not going back on my word.” Mu Qing takes a deep breath. “He said that I was really messed up, and that I wasn’t the type of person that anyone in their right mind would want to be friends with, let alone date, and that he pities whoever is f-friends with me, and that, that was it.” Mu Qing’s voice starts getting shaky at that last part, and tears start welling up in his eyes. He tries to wipe them away, but with no avail. “Well if I’m really that bad, then why did he let this go on for so long?” Tears are threatening to spill from his eyes and he buries his face in his hands. 

Several different emotions go through Feng Xin at the sight of Mu Qing starting to cry. 

The first is rage, how dare someone make Mu Qing feel that way and say all those things to him? If it weren’t for the fact that Mu Qing was crying, he

would’ve asked Mu Qing for the guy’s address and marched on over in the rain to give him a piece of his mind. 

The next was sympathy, for obvious reasons.

And the third was dismay, seeing Mu Qing so weak and falling apart over some guy just made Feng Xin even angrier and the thing that Mu QIng says right after doesn’t help much. 

“Don’t answer that, I know what you think of me right now, why did I ever agree to tell you?” Mu Qing tries to glare at him, but it falls apart before it even lasts a second.

Feng XIn couldn’t stand to see Mu Qing like this, so he does the one thing he never thought he’d do.

“Alright, come here, you dummy.” he wraps his arms around Mu Qing and before Mu Qing can even react, he’s being pulled into a tight hug. 

Surprisingly, Mu Qing does not react negatively like Feng XIn thought he would at this impulsive decision and sudden close contact, instead, he melts into the hug and buries his face in Feng Xin’s shoulder. 

“You wanna know what I think of you?” Feng Xin starts talking, he can feel Mu Qing tensing up.

A million thoughts go through his head at once. I think you're beautiful, I think you’re super annoying, I think you are the most annoying person I’ve ever met, I think the way you care so much about kids is adorable, I think us meeting is the best thing that has ever happened to me, I think you’re my best friend, even if you don’t feel the same, I think I’ll never get sick of how you’ll complain about the smallest things, i think there’s no one else in the world that I’d want to fight with, laugh with, be with for the rest of my life. I think I love you. 

“I care about you, okay? I care about you because you’re my friend, and if I’m being honest, I feel like you’re my best friend, and I think that that asshole doesn’t deserve you.” Feng Xin says while rubbing circles on Mu Qing’s back. 

“O-oh.” Mu Qing manages to say, before snuggling closer to Feng Xin. “Yeah, well. I care about you too.” 

________________________________

The next morning, Feng Xin wakes up on the living room couch with a weight on his chest. 

“What the fuck?” he murmurs, and rubs his eyes. That’s when he notices the black head of hair in his face, and Mu Qing sleeping soundly on his chest with the blanket draped over the both of them.

Feng Xin reasons that both of them fell asleep while they were hugging last night and smiles down at the sleeping figure of Mu Qing. 

He reaches for Mu Qing’s head and plays with his long black hair while trying his best to ignore the fact that his heart was breakdancing and doing somersaults in his chest over the fact that Mu Qing was sleeping on him.

Feng Xin continues to play with Mu Qing’s hair for the next ten minutes before Mu Qing blinks open his eyes and asks, “What’s going on- Oh.” 

That’s when he realizes he’s basically cuddling with Feng Xin. 

“What the fuck?” he scrambles to get off the man, but Feng Xin has an arm tightly locked around his waist and he can’t get out of this compromising position with his… friend? 

Wow, that word still sounded strange when talking about the both of them. 

“S-sorry. I must’ve fallen asleep on you while we were… you know.” Feng Xin apologizes and unhooks his arm so that Mu Qing can get off of him. 

“Don’t worry, it’s uh, it’s okay. I fell asleep too.” Mu Qing gets off of Feng Xin and looks out the window. “Holy shit.”

“What?” Feng Xin stands up from the couch and when he sees what Mu Qing sees, he’s repeating what his roommate just said. “Holy shit.” 

There was fresh snow falling from the sky, and the buildings were coated with it, making the view outside look like something straight out of a storybook. 

“Wow.” Feng Xin says. “This is… beautiful.” 

“Yeah.” Mu Qing agrees beside him. “Hey Feng Xin.” 

“Yeah?”

“You wanna know the reason I even got with that guy in the first place?” 

“Uh, okay.” 

Mu Qing takes a deep breath, this is it. “I was trying to get over you.” 

Feng Xin’s eyes widen. “Wh-what do you mean by that?”

Mu Qing rolls his eyes. “It means, I had a crush on you, you idiot, and because I thought you hated me and thought you’d never reciprocate, tried to get over those feelings by hooking up with other people. Well that obviously didn’t work.” 

Feng Xin is so stunned he can barely get a word out.

Mu Qing’s face falls. “And here I was, hoping that there was a chance after- I’m heading to my room.” He tries to leave, but is stopped when he feels a warm hand tightly wrap around his wrist. 

“You, you really mean it?” Feng Xin’s eyes are hopeful, and there’s a hint of a smile dancing around the corner of his mouth. 

Mu Qing takes a deep breath. “Yes, yes I do.”

That tiny little smile on Feng Xin’s face breaks into a huge grin, as he pounces at Mu Qing, who was evidently not expecting this to happen, and falls to the floor once Feng Xin’s body hits his own. 

“Oh my god.”

“Feng Xin”

“Holy shit.”

“Feng Xin.”

“You really do like me huh?” Feng Xin is now smiling so hard it hurts, but he doesn’t care. 

“Feng Xin, I swear if you don’t get off me right now I’m going to kill you.” Mu Qing says as he tries to push Feng Xin off of him. “Also, stop being so sappy and emotional,” he adds. 

“Hey, you were being just as sappy.” Feng Xin hauls himself off of Mu Qing and sits on the floor beside him. 

“Pfft, not as much as you were though.” Mu Qing teases as he gets off the floor. 

“Hey, thanks for not getting over me. I’m glad.” Feng Xin smiles. 

“Yeah.” Mu Qing smiles, the smallest of smiles, but it’s still there. “I am too.” 

“And uh, maybe we could go on a date, after breakfast, today? It’s Christmas after all, and we’ve got nothing to do.” Feng Xin says hopefully. 

“Yeah.” Mu Qing turns to him and his smile grows wider. “I’d like that.”

Here's a link to the one I posted on AO3, they're the one and the same: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43821268

Rings, Ice and Everything Nice (FengQing Christmas Oneshot)

Summary:

“Huh?” Feng Xin lifts his head to see Xie Lian standing in front of the kitchen counter, right opposite him. Mu Qing is out at the moment so it’s only the two of them right now.

“You free this Christmas?” Xie Lian repeats, propping his elbow on the counter and resting his chin in his palm. “There’s a Christmas Market in town. San Lang and I were going to go but something sudden came up and now we can’t,'' Xie Lian rubs his neck, embarrassed. ”So we’re asking if anyone would want to go in our place. It’d be awful to waste that ticket.”

“Uh, I think so?” Feng Xin answers. He doesn’t have much to do on the 25th, so he might as well go to that Christmas market, could be fun.

Feng Xin invites Mu Qing out for a day at the Christmas market, it goes... pretty damn well. ___________________________________________________________________

Please note that I type some stuff in Cantonese in this fic and translations will be given after the paragraph.

Notes:

Hello, people. This is my first OFFICIAL fic on AO3, and it's a oneshot about our two favourite rival dumbasses at a Christmas Market. Since Christmas was rolling around and I really wanted to write something, I wrote it.

This was partially inspired by "Perfectly Warm" by thekeyholder on AO3, their oneshot is so good and so cute. Go check it out.

Please note that I did not beta read this and any spelling and grammatical errors shall be fixed when I feel like it... which is never.

And with that being said, I give you: THIS NON BETA READ MONSTROSITY THAT I POSTED A DAY AFTER CHRISTMAS, I MEAN WTF?

Rings, Ice and Everything Nice:

“You free this Christmas?”

“Huh?” Feng Xin lifts his head to see Xie Lian standing in front of the kitchen counter, right opposite him. Mu Qing is out at the moment so it’s only the two of them right now.

“You free this Christmas?” Xie Lian repeats, propping his elbow on the counter and resting his chin in his palm. “There’s a Christmas Market in town. San Lang and I were going to go but something sudden came up and now we can’t,'' Xie Lian rubs his neck, embarrassed. ”So we’re asking if anyone would want to go in our place. It’d be awful to waste that ticket.”

“Uh, I think so?” Feng Xin answers. He doesn’t have much to do on the 25th, so he might as well go to that Christmas market, could be fun.

“Great!” Xie Lian claps his hands together and pulls out his phone. “Thanks so much. Oh, by the way, that ticket is for two, so you might want to get another person to go with you.”

“Oh.” Feng Xin says. He rubs the back of his neck, clearly a bit troubled. Who would bother to come with him to a Christmas market at such a moment's notice? It was already the 23rd, everyone he knew already had plans for Christmas. Who would wanna go with him?

Xie Lian immediately notices that he’s a bit troubled. “What’s wrong?” he asks, concerned for his friend.

“Well, everyone we know already has plans for Christmas, so I don’t know if…” he trails off, deciding not to finish that sentence. Xie Lian seemed so happy to have someone to use those tickets, but if he didn’t have a plus one, then…

Xie Lian catches on immediately.

“Oh,” he says, face slightly falling. But then his face lights up again. “Why don’t you bring Mu Qing then?”

“Huh?” Feng Xin seems bewildered by the suggestion.

“Yeah!” Xie Lian smiles. “It’d be a great opportunity for you two to bond. Plus maybe you can get closer to him…” he adds that last part in a mischievous tone and a wink.

“W-what?” Feng Xin’s face starts becoming warm. Fuck, he caught on.

Xie Lian sighs. “Come on, Feng Xin. I know about your crush on Mu Qing. I just think that you should tell him.”

“What? No the fuck I shouldn’t!” Feng Xin “Also, why would he wanna come? He’d hate to go to the Market with me.”

Xie Lian sighs deeply. “No, he wouldn’t. Believe me. I’d know.”

“But-”

“Feng Xin,” Xie Lian holds up a hand. “I have known you and Mu Qing for most of my life, and I know how he feels about most things. I’m sure he’d want to go to the Christmas market with you.”

“But-”

“End. Of. Discussion.” Xie Lian says sternly, his tone hardens and his eyes narrow slightly. To anyone else, they wouldn’t notice much difference from Regular Xie Lian, but Feng Xin knows to stop arguing when Xie Lian uses that tone.

“Alright, alright. I’ll ask him.” Feng Xin says in defeat.

“Great!” Xie Lian goes back to his regular smiley self. “I’ll give you the ticket via Whatsapp. It’s digital so you just have to show it to the staff at the entrance and you’re good to go.” he picks up his phone and types something. Within seconds, Feng Xin feels a buzz in his pocket and he knows immediately that Xie Lian just sent him the ticket.

“Well,” Xie Lian pockets his phone. “I better get going, San Lang is waiting.” he picks up his bag and opens the front door. “You guys have fun at the Market!” and with that, he steps out and shuts the door.

And now Feng Xin is alone in the kitchen.

“Ugh…” he picks up his phone and dials Mu Qing’s number, his finger hovers over the dial button for a minute. He finally relents and presses the button. Mu Qing answers within seconds.

“This better be good, I won’t be back for another hour.” he hears Mu Qing’s voice ring out from the opposite end.

“Hey, Xie Lian gave me a ticket to the Christmas Market downtown. He said that he and Crimson Rain were planning to go together but they had something to take care of so they gave the thing to me.”

“Okay? So go by yourself. What does this have to do with me?” he can practically feel Mu Qing’s eyeroll through the phone.

“The ticket covers two people, so I need a plus one to go to the market, and since no one else is free, I thought that you were the next best option.” Feng Xin takes a deep breath. “So, wanna go with me?”

There is a long moment of silence between them when he says that.

“Alright. What time are you free?” Mu Qing finally says. “I have time around 7 on the 25th.”

Feng Xin’s heart does some sort of somersault when Mu Qing says that. “Oh, uh. Same.”

“Then it’s settled.” Mu Qing says coolly. “I’ll be back by 5. Don’t forget to vacuum the place and defrost the chicken.”

‘Alright, geez.” Feng Xin says. “See ya.”

“Bye.” he hears Mu Qing say on the other end, then he hangs up. _____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

When the 25th rolls around, Feng Xin gets a lot more excited about the Market date, (Is it a date? He asks himself.) much to his own dismay and joy at the same time. He lies awake in bed the night prior, trying to fall asleep, but the excitement is killing him. At last, he falls asleep around midnight, after a nice session of trying his damndest to not think about the Market date but failing and at last falling asleep due to the built up exhaustion from all the work he did in the week.

When he wakes up, Mu Qing tells him that he’ll be out for most of the day, but will be back to go to the market with him. And that he should get ready before he gets back as it’s a long walk to the Christmas market. Feng Xin does not protest against this, and simply gives a nod at Mu Qing before he heads out.

The rest of the day, Feng Xin goes about his regular routine. Since it’s Christmas, it means that he had the day off from work, and the fact that it would be Saturday right after Christmas Day, makes it even better. He tries not to think about Mu Qing and the Market tonight, but also wonders at the same time why Mu Qing keeps going out of the house so frequently these past few days. Eventually, he gets the thoughts of Mu Qing out of his head, and settles down on the couch to binge some movies before Mu Qing comes back. He turns on the TV and puts the box of snacks on the coffee table, and before he even knows it, he drifts off.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

Feng Xin jolts awake, he rubs his eyes and sees a fuming Mu Qing at the front door, he kicks off his shoes and puts the paper bag he has in his hands on the kitchen counter before walking towards Feng Xin.

“Do you even know what time it is?’ he yanks his roommate off the couch and shoves his phone in his face. 6:27 pm, it reads.

Feng Xin blinks a few times before realizing what’s happening and thinks. Oh no.

“Oh fuck!” he untangles himself from the blanket and makes a dash for his room for a change of clothes. It would take them a solid 30 minutes to walk to the Christmas market, and he just wasted a lot of time.

“I told you to get ready before I came home, and did you?” He hears Mu Qing scolding him through the bedroom door. “Oh my god we’re gonna be so late.”

“Says the guy who came home at 6:27 pm! You wasted just as much time as I did!” Feng Xin fires back at him.

“I expected you to be ready by the time i came back and we could head out as soon as I came back, god!” Mu Qing yells.

“Ugh!” Feng Xin yells in frustration as he ruffles through his drawers for something that would look remotely decent outside, but would still shield him from the winter cold.

At last, after ten minutes of non stop arguing and Feng Xin trying to dress himself in the nicest thing he owns (for the occasion, not to impress Mu Qing!), he steps out of the room and rushes towards the front door.

“Took ya long enough!” Mu Qing huffs, showing him the time on his phone, which now read 6:37. “Let’s go!”

Both of them ran out of their apartment at full speed. Only now did Feng Xin appreciate the fact that their apartment was on the 2nd floor and not the 15th, as he had originally hoped. Mu Qing insisted on the one on the 2nd, saying it would “allow for more natural light!” and “a faster trip downstairs.”

They were in such a hurry that they didn’t even have time to admire the beautiful Christmas lights that hung all around the city.

By the time they got to the location where the Christmas market was, Mu Qing’s phone already read 6:58 pm. They’d gotten there faster than they had expected.

The guard at the entrance scanned the ticket on Feng Xin’s phone and looked at both of them and chuckled. “You know, this Christmas market is really popular with couples.”

Feng Xin tensed up and he could feel the heat rising from his neck. He looked over at Mu Qing, who had frozen in shock.

The guard chuckled again and handed them two wristbands. “These’ll give you access to all of the attractions in the park, just show it to the staff and they’ll let you in. You kids have fun!”

Feng Xin took the wristbands and handed one to Mu Qing. They both wrapped them around their wrists and waved goodbye to the security guard before stepping into the winter wonderland that was the Christmas market.

“Wow…” Feng Xin said in astonishment of the Christmas market. Stalls were absolutely everywhere in the giant park that the market was set up in. Lights shimmered and the laughter of the children echoed throughout the park, and the falling snow that quickly coated the rooftops of the buildings nearby made the area look like something straight out of a fairytale.

“Don’t just stand there, you look like an idiot.” a voice beside him snaps him out of his trance. Mu Qing smiles teasingly at him. “Cmon, we came here to enjoy the attractions, not to gawk at the lights and stuff.”

“Hey, it looks beautiful here, can you blame me?” Feng Xin asks in defense, and Mu Qing rolls his eyes, but a small smile dances on his lips, and his eyes visibly soften when he looks at Feng Xin.

That sight made Feng Xin want to kiss him so bad.

“So uh… about what the security guard back there said,” he begins. “You know, about us looking like a couple.”

“Uh, yeah, I guess we do kind of look like a couple, huh?” Mu Qing answers him sheepishly, averting eye contact.

The two of them stand there in awkward silence for a while before Mu Qing finally breaks the silence.

“Cmon.” Mu Qing grabs his arm and pulls him over to one of the stalls. “I didn’t come here to do nothing.”

“The stall he had pulled Feng Xin to was a game stall, the girl manning the stall looked at their wristbands and gave them a rundown of how the game there worked. It was a very basic ring toss game. The more rings you land on the bottles, the bigger the prize you get. She gave them a bucket of rings and went to the side.

Feng Xin picks up one of the rings and aims for one of the bottles, he could feel Mu Qing staring at him behind him. He takes a deep breath, and throws.

The ring lands perfectly on one of the bottles.

“Holy shit.” he hears the girl whisper from the side, and Mu Qing seems to be gazing at him.

“My turn.” Mu Qing comes forward and takes a ring from the bucket and throws it at the bottles. It doesn’t land on any of them, instead, it hits the side of one of them and falls to the floor with a loud clang!

Feng Xin chuckles and Mu Qing glares at him. “You think this is funny?”

“Yeah, kinda.” Feng Xin admits, but before Mu Qing can get a word out, he steps forward and grabs another ring and shoves it in Mu Qing’s hand. He then goes up behind Mu Qing and holds up his arm to a certain height. This sudden close contact makes Mu Qing tense up. “You wanna make sure that a bottle is within your line of sight and make a decision on which bottle you want to throw the ring at. Next, take aim,” he raises Mu Qing’s other arm - the one that isn’t holding the ring, and puts it in front of him, making sure his index finger is pointing at a bottle through the ring. “And… throw!”

This time, the ring lands perfectly on a bottle, and Mu Qing is astonished by this. “Whoa…” he says.

Feng Xin smiles and picks up another ring. He throws it at the bottles, for it to land on one of them perfectly, as expected from the guy who got gold in all of his archery tournaments back in high school. They continue the game until the bucket of rings run out, joking around and teasing each other the whole time, with a majority of the rings landing on bottles and just a couple missed ones, it was no surprise that they’d won a pretty big prize.

“Here you go.” the stall girl says as she hands Feng Xin a giant black cat plush. “I’d recommend you give that to your boyfriend,” she points at Mu Qing behind him. “Gives off the same vibe.”

Feng Xin’s cheeks go red at this. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Oh really? Could’ve reckoned you two were dating, by the way he looks at you.” The stall girl comments, surprised. Mu Qing’s cheeks also heat up at this comment and he pulls his hood over his head.

“Uh, yeah okay. Thanks for the plush.” Feng Xin manages to say to the girl, who looks at him weirdly before shrugging and waving them goodbye. Feng Xin stuffs the plush

“Well that’s the second time we’ve been mistaken to be a couple.” He jokes to Mu Qing once they’ve walked away.

“Yeah, I know.” Mu Qing says, the red on his cheeks still not disappearing.

They stay like that for a moment, with Mu Qing not talking and Feng Xin looking at him while holding a giant cat plush.

“Well, uh, where do you wanna go next?” Feng Xin asks him to lessen the awkwardness.

“I don’t know, you pick.” Mu Qing answers him.

“Uhhh…” Feng Xin looks around them, there were a lot of attractions all over the park, but none of them really caught his interest, except for-

“You wanna go ice-skating?” He asks.

“What?” Mu Qing raises his head and looks in the direction Feng Xin is pointing in. Sure enough, there was an ice-skating rink smack dab in the middle of the park.

“Sure, why not?” He agrees and walks over.

They borrow ice skates from the staff working at the rink, and get on the ice within minutes, but there was one problem: Feng Xin didn’t know how to skate.

“Pfft,” Mu Qing tries to stifle a giggle when he sees his friend repeatedly trying and failing to get up from the ice once he slips.

Feng Xin sighs and gives up. “Little help here?” He asks Mu Qing.

“Nope, you got yourself into this, you get yourself out.” He says teasingly. “Alright, alright, I’ll help you.” He finally relents when Feng Xin glares at him. He leans down to grab his hand, but Feng Xin falls forward at him once he gets up again.

“Oh, uh, sorry.” Feng Xin apologises to him once he realises how closely their bodies are pressed together, and tries to distance himself from Mu Qing, but with no avail, as when he tries to get back from him on the ice, he just ends up falling against Mu Qing again.

“Oh my god, just stop.” Mu Qing gives up, and just lets Feng Xin lean against him for now. “Follow my lead.” He grabs Feng Xin’s hands and guides him across the ice, trying his best not to let him fall again, and throughout this entire process, Feng Xin is just mesmerised by how pretty Mu Qing looks in the multicoloured lighting of the rink.

“Wow, I didn’t know you could skate.” Feng Xin remarks. “You're really good.”

“Thanks.” Mu Qing looks away for a quick second. When did all the fighting between him and Feng Xin suddenly turn into playful banter and jokes and suddenly now, basically flirting? Unbeknownst to him, Feng Xin was thinking the same.

Mu Qing takes a deep breath. “Feng Xin, I have something to tell you…”

“Y-yeah?” Feng Xin’s breath hitches and they skate to a stop.

Mu Qing turns around to face him, eyes softer than usual and the way his hair reflects the lights around them just makes him look… ethereal. (Yeah, Feng Xin can’t take the bi panic.)“Listen, I’ve kind of liked-”

RIIIIIINNNGGGG!!!!!!!

A bell rings in the distance and a staff member comes out.

“Alright, everyone, rink’ll be closing in ten for cleaning and maintenance! So everyone who’s still in here, please leave the rink before we force you out!”

“Oh! Seems like we have to get out of here.” Mu Qing says awkwardly, separating his body from Feng Xin’s and grabbing his date(?)’s arm and leading him away from the rink.

Once they’re out of there, Feng Xin thinks about what just happened.

So basically, Mu Qing and him got really close, like, really really close, he just guided him through skating and holy fuck that last part…

That last part.

“Are ya deaf?” Mu Qing’s voice rings through the air, cool and calm, but there was definitely a mischievous undertone to it.

“Huh, sorry what?” Feng Xin snaps out of his thoughts. “Yeah sorry I couldn’t hear you.”

“I asked where you wanted to go next, dummy.” Mu Qing rolls his eyes, but Feng Xin knows it’s only in a teasing manner. “I’ve been asking you for the past minute, and you didn’t respond, almost like you were deaf or something.”

“Uh,” Feng XIn scans the area around them for something interesting to go to. “Wanna go there?” he points at a very dark building in the distance, but it was already pretty obvious what it was.

“Ugh, there?” Mu Qing rolls his eyes again. “I swear, that place is the least frightening place I've ever seen.” he says, obviously trying to cover up the fact that he was creeped out by the house.

“Still looks fun though.” Feng Xin smiles. “What? Is Xiao Qing-er scared?” he adds teasingly.

“I literally just told you that that is the least frightening place I’ve ever seen.” Mu Qing says dryly.

“Then on second thought, no.” Feng Xin decides. That haunted house really did look a bit scary once he looked at it a bit clearer.

Mu Qing notices him looking a little creeped out and smirks.

“做乜啊?阿信係唔係驚咗啊?” he asks, trying to get a rise out of Feng Xin.

(Translation: What? Is A-Xin scared?)

“No, of course not!” Feng Xin says defensively. “Come on.'' He grabs Mu Qing’s arm and drags him towards the haunted house.

That sudden touch makes Mu Qing’s breath hitch and his body tense up, and he follows Feng Xin to the haunted house.

There were only a few people waiting at the haunted house, and for good reason. Now that Feng Xin got a way better look at the haunted house, he could tell that those people who worked there were not coming to play. The house wasn’t over the top looking like other haunted houses they’ve been to, the place looked like bad news, and if it weren’t for the fact that it was a park attraction, Feng Xin and Mu Qing would’ve avoided it like the plague, or COVID.

Once it’s their turn to step into the haunted house, Mu Qing tenses up even more, he grabs Feng Xin’s arm and yanks him closer to himself. This makes Feng Xin’s heart start breakdancing and doing somersaults in his chest, all the while singing corny Christmas carols.

The inside of the haunted house looked like something straight out of a murder crime scene, and from what research that Feng Xin had done on haunted houses, this was something good. It reminded him of the Winchester Mystery house he visited last summer and the McKamey Manor, only with less torture and death.

Mu Qing squeezes his arm tighter, trying to keep his head down so that he doesn’t see anything too scary.

“Ha, look who’s scared now.” Feng Xin teases in an attempt to get Mu Qing to calm down.

“Does A-Xin want to fucking die?’ Feng Xin can feel the glare, even though he can’t see it.

“No, but I’m pretty sure you’re gonna cut off my circulation with how hard you’re gripping my arm. “ Feng Xin says.

“Oh.” Mu Qing lets go of his arm and goes silent at his side.

Well that was kind of unexpected. Feng Xin’s arm feels cold without Mu Qing clinging to him like a koala.

They go through the haunted house slowly, with none of them saying a word, but Feng Xin can feel something was wrong, almost like someone was following him. He looks at Mu Qing, who by now has regained his composure and is walking steadily, but he can tell that he’s still a bit on edge.

Feng Xin looks behind him, but there was nothing there. He turns to Mu Qing. “Hey, you feel anything following us?” he jokes in an effort to get Mu Qing to stop being so quiet.

“I don’t know, maybe you’re just freaked out?” Mu Qing dryly, but he looks grossed out by the fake bloody handprints on the walls and looks over his shoulder.

“Hmm.” Feng Xin hums. “Maybe you are too?” he teases.

Mu Qing rolls his eyes.

They walk through the haunted house, everything’s uneventful for a bit, but Feng Xin’s weird feeling that someone is following them is getting stronger.

“You wanna get out of here?” he asks Mu Qing.

“The exit’s that way, dumbass.” Mu Qing points at a door labelled “Exit”.

“Yeah okay, let’s go.” Feng Xin grabs Mu Qing’s arm and walks towards the door, but before he can open it, a figure comes up behind them and raises a knife behind their heads.

“痴孖筋!” Feng Xin curses and Mu Qing raises his fist, only for the figure to raise their hands over their head, and that’s when Feng XIn and Mu Qing realise: This is an actor for the haunted house.

(Translation for 痴孖筋: it’s a curse in Cantonese, and it means “FUCKING SHIT!” in this particular context, but its base meaning is basically just an insult for someone who’s acting insane.)

“Oh my god…” Feng Xin facepalms and Mu Qing rolls his eyes and opens the door to reveal the outside.

“Oh my god, you looked so freaked out back there.” Mu Qing teases Feng Xin once they’re a considerable distance away from the haunted house.

“Says you.” Feng Xin fires back. “You were gripping my arm so hard that it felt like you were going to rip it off.”

“Ugh.” Mu Qing groans, a bit of pink dusting his pale cheeks. “That was actually pretty fun, I won’t lie.”

“Yes, because us being stalked by what looks like a killer and being attacked by said killer is fun.” Feng Xin says.

“Awwwww, poor A-Xin, so scared of a fake killer?” Mu Qing says in a baby voice and throws his head back. “That’s fucking hilarious.”

Feng Xin sticks his tongue out at him.

“Seriously?” Mu Qing rolls his eyes. “Sticking out your tongue? That’s grade school level shit.”

“Speaking of grade school level shit…” Feng Xin says mischievously, raising a hand behind Mu Qing’s back.

“What the f-”

“I HIDE, YOU SEEK!” Feng Xin yells before taking off.

“Oh it’s on!” Mu Qing runs after him into the crowds.

They run for a while, uncaring of all the people staring at the fact that two grown men are running through the crowds like six year olds, and Feng Xin sees a gap between two stalls. Nice place to hide. He thinks to himself. He makes a dive for that gap, but Mu Qing is faster, as he yanks Feng Xin out of his hiding place before he’s even halfway in.

“Gotcha!” Mu Qing laughs and gets off of Feng Xin.

“Yeah, yeah. You got me.” Feng Xin rolls his eyes and smiles at his companion.

“Come on, I wanna go see the ice sculptures.” Mu Qing lifts himself and Feng Xin off the ground. “And I don’t want to be stared at by a bunch of strangers.” he adds under his breath, glaring at all the people staring at them.

They head for the ice sculpture building, and the queue progresses quickly, maybe due to the late time, but both Feng Xin and mu QIng don’t really notice the time. Instead, they are thrusted into a kingdom of ice and snow.

“Whoa…” Feng Xin says, brushing his hand against one of the ice sculptures that was shaped like a penguin. “These look so real.”

“Yeah, they do.” Mu Qing agrees with him. “Hey.”

“Huh?”

“Take a look at this.” Mu Qing points at an ice sculpture of two people in extravagant ancient Chinese robes. Their lips were pressed together and the one with a bun was dipping the one who had longer hair, flowing freely from his head.

“Holy shit, that’s beautiful.” Feng Xin says in astonishment.

“Yeah. I know right.” Mu Qing holds up his hand to brush against the face of the one with the bun.

“You want a photo with this?” Feng Xin asks him.

“Huh? Yeah sure.” Mu Qing goes silent for a moment. “But you have to be in it as well.” he tells Feng Xin.

“What?”

“You heard me.” Mu Qing shrugs, then turns to another visitor of the building. “Excuse me, would you mind taking a photo of us?” he asks the teenager next to him, over the sound of Feng Xin’s protests.

“Sure, why not?” The teenager agrees and Mu Qing hands them his phone.

“Why did you ask-” Feng Xin begins.

“Shut up, the kid’s already starting to take the photos.” Mu Qing hisses at him and pulls him closer. He flings Feng Xin’s arm over his shoulder and wraps his own around Feng Xin’s waist.

A minute or so passes, and the kid finally stops taking photos. “Thanks.” Mu Qing says as the teenager gives the phone back to him.

‘You two make such a great couple, ya know?” the teen tells them.

“Oh, uh. Thanks, I guess?” Feng Xin says, embarrassed, while Mu Qing hides his face in his hands.

“Yeah. See ya ‘round.” the teenager gives them a salute and walks away with their mother.

“Well that’s the-” Feng Xin begins.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Mu Qing says, cheeks pink. He pockets his phone and blows some hot air onto his hands. “Let’s get outta here, I’m freezing.”

“But we’ve barely even-”

Mu Qing is nearly out the door.

“哎呀⋯⋯" Feng Xin runs after him.

(哎呀 basically means: Aiya… and that punctuation mark after it is the Chinese equivalent to this: …)

______________________________________________________________

They continue walking through the Christmas market for a while, it was already pretty late, nearing 9 pm.

“So uh, what do you wanna do next?” Feng Xin asks the black haired man walking beside him.

“I dunno.” Mu Qing shrugs.

“Well…” Feng XIn scratches his head. “Wanna go see them light up the Christmas tree?”

“What?”

“Yeah!” Feng Xin says. “Xie Lian told me about it yesterday, he told me that they’re gonna light up the Christmas tree at the center of the park.”

“Well, alright.” Mu Qing nods. “What time?”

“9 pm.”

“Oh shit, it’s already 8:45.” Mu Qing pulls out his phone. “Well, if you wanna go see the tree light up then we better get going.”

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

______________________________________________________________

“You wanna get something to drink before we see the lights?” Feng Xin asks.

“Okay.” Mu Qing says. “Whatcha want?”

“Nothing too much. Maybe some tea or hot chocolate, you?”

“Yeah same.” Mu Qing says, then he notices a small stall in the distance. “That stall seems to be selling drinks, wanna go check it out?”

“Okay, let’s go.”

A few minutes later, both of them are holding hot chocolate and sitting on a bench, right in front of the Christmas tree in the center of the park.

“Hey, thanks for coming with me to this Christmas market.” Feng Xin smiles.

“Hm.” Mu Qing takes a sip of his hot chocolate. “I’m glad I came.” he says quietly.

“I’m glad you came too.” Feng Xin smiles and wraps an arm around Mu Qing’s shoulder. Mu Qing tenses up at first, but soon relaxes into the warmth of his companion.

They sit in silence for a while, just staring at the unlit Christmas tree, and the snow lightly falling from the sky.

“Feng Xin, why did you ask me to come?”

“I told you already, Xie Lian and Crimson Rain couldn’t make it, so they gave the ticket to me and since no one else was free, i asked you.”

“Oh…”

More silence.

“Feng Xin, is this a date?” he asks him, eyes wide with hope.

“I mean, if you want it to be.” Feng Xin whispers, staring into those beautiful black eyes, reflecting the Christmas lights around them.

“Yeah, yeah i do.” Mu Qing moves in, and the lights around them softly illuminate him, reflecting off his silky black hair and making him look even prettier than he did at the ice rink.

“Then uh… wanna-”

He doesn’t even have to finish that sentence before Mu Qing dives in.

Feng Xin’s brain short circuits at that. He’d’ve never imagined that this would happen, much less for Mu Qing to initiate the kiss. He ia frozen in shock for a few seconds, but relaxes and melts into the kiss.

When they finally break apart, Mu Qing’s face is red as a beet and Feng Xin is at a loss for words.

“Wow…” Feng Xin says. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Mu Qing mutters, trying to get rid of the deep red blush that’s taking over his face. “That wasn’t so bad.” he gives up on trying to get the blush to disappear and just smiles at Feng Xin.

That sight makes Feng Xin’s heart do somersaults.

“Hey Mu Qing.”

“Hm?”

“I’m so glad that you agreed to come with me tonight,” he takes a deep breath. “So, would you like to be my boyfriend?”

Mu Qing’s breath hitches and it takes him a couple moments before he answers.

“Yes, yes I would.”

Feng Xin dives in for another kiss, and the Christmas tree lights up behind them.

End notes:

Feng Xin, calling Xie Lian after the Christmas Market: holy shit. I went to the Market with Mu Qing and we did a lot of cool stuff and we kissed and I asked him to be my boyfriend and I think I love him?

Xie Lian, who has known for years and gave him the ticket to the Christmas Market just to get him and Mu Qing on a date:

______________________________________________________________

Hey, folks. Thanks for reading this fic of mine, and I hope y'all have a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

Errors will be fixed when I feel like it... eventually, which is never.

Link to the AO3 fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43860684

Comfort on New Year’s Eve (FengQing oneshot)

Summary:

Mu Qing is sad that his mother isn't here to visit him for New Year's and laments it on the balcony. Feng Xin comes to take a breather but ends up comforting Mu Qing instead. They talk about their feelings and this ends in a kiss

Notes:

Lol I wrote this in the middle of the night and published it at like 3 am, so it's very bad compared to my other fic and I didn't beta read it cause I was too tired to. Enjoy tho. Constructive criticism welcome as always.

Btw, translations for the text messages in Cantonese will be provided at the end of the paragraph.

“Why did I ever agree to this?”

Mu Qing asks himself as he stares up into the night sky, the loud noise of people partying behind him echoing to where he was standing on the balcony.

Mu Qing sighs and takes out his phone, unlocking it and staring at all the messages that his mother had left him.

Mama

Mama: 我個乖仔點啊? 喺大學讀得開唔開心啊? 識咗新朋友未啊? (sent 11:27 pm, Hong Kong time)

Mama: 新年快樂啊! (sent 11:27 pm, Hong Kong time)

Mama: 媽咪今個新年離唔到英國探你真係對唔住啊, 我喺香港好忙, 連新年過嚟搵你嘅時間都無,但喺你生日嘅時候我一定嚟探你!媽咪應承你! 希望你可以你可以原諒媽咪啦! (Sent 11:28 pm, Hong Kong time)

(Translations:

Mama: How’s my good boy? Are you happy studying at the university? Make any new friends?

Mama: Happy New Year!

Mama: Mami is sorry she can’t come to England to see you this year, I’m very busy in Hong Kong, and can’t even make time to visit you on New Year’s, but I will come to visit on your birthday! Mami promises you she will! I hope you can forgive Mami!)

Mu Qing stares at the last message, his mom hadn’t made it to England to visit him for New Year’s this year, but she’d promised him that she’d make it for his birthday.

The thought that she isn’t there for him this New Year’s made Mu Qing feel… sad? Ever since he was born, Mu Qing always celebrated New Year’s with his mother, making niangao, going to the park to look at the lanterns at night, playing with fireworks at night, those were all the things that they did together, and though it wasn’t much, it made Mu Qing happy, and the fact that his mother was there with him made it ten times better.

But ever since he started college in London, he hasn’t been able to see his mother much, and while she still visits him for New Year’s, Christmas and his birthday every year, the fact that she isn’t here this year just made Mu Qing feel awful.

He wipes away some tears forming in his eyes and takes a deep breath.

It’s just one year, Mu Qing, she’ll be here for your birthday. He tells himself.

But that doesn’t make it any better.

Mu Qing tries to wipe away more tears forming in his eyes and looks towards the sky once again.

“Hey.”

A voice rings out from behind him. Mu Qing turns around to see Feng Xin, carrying two cups of what he assumes is tea and looking at him curiously.

“What are you doing out here?” Feng Xin asks.

“Could say the same for you.” Mu Qing responds, trying to keep his voice as steady as possible. “What are you doing here?”

Feng Xin sighs and leans on the railing of the balcony.

“It was too chaotic in there, had to come out to take a breather.”

“What? Can’t take a bit of noise?” Mu Qing teases him.

“Hey-” Feng Xin opens his mouth to protest, but stops himself when he sees that Mu Qing is shaking slightly.

“Hey, are you cold?”

“No.” Mu Qing says, voice trembling. “I’m fine.”

Feng Xin sighs. “No, I can see that you’re shivering.” he takes off his jacket and drapes it over Mu Qing.

“Hey, what are you-” Mu Qing flushes a bit when he feels the jacket being put on him. “I don’t need this.” he glowers at Feng Xin and hands the jacket back to him.

“No, you do.” Feng Xin puts the jacket back onto him and shoves the cup of tea in his hands. “You’re gonna catch a cold if you don’t cover up.”

“Quit mother-henning me.” Mu Qing rolls his eyes and takes a sip of the tea. The tea is warm, not too bitter, and warms him up the moment it touches his tongue, and he could feel the warmth spreading from his stomach to the tips of his fingers.

It reminds him of his mom.

Tears start forming in Mu Qing’s eyes again and he wipes them away.

“Hey, are you okay?” Feng Xin asks him, concerned.

“Of course I’m okay, what makes you think that I’m not okay?” Mu Qing says dryly, but there’s a tremble to his voice and Feng Xin notices that Mu Qing’s eyes are red and there are tear tracks running down his face.

“Yeah I’m not buying it.” Feng Xin says. “What’s going on?”

“I said I’m fine, don’t you have better things to do?” Mu Qing rolls his eyes, trying to appear as apathetic as possible.

“No, no I don't.” Feng Xin says and scoots closer to Mu Qing. “You can tell me what’s wrong.”

“I told you already, there’s nothing wrong-”

“Mu Qing I will literally not let you leave this balcony unless you tell me what’s wrong, right now.” Feng Xin says firmly, and locks Mu Qing’s wrist in a tight grip.

“What the- let me go!” Mu Qing tries to yank his arm out of Feng Xin’s grip, but to no avail.

“I told you, I’m not letting you go until you tell me what’s wrong.”

Mu Qing struggles to get out of Feng Xin’s grip, and he tries and tries for a long time but to no avail. He eventually gives up and just sighs.

“Alright, fine.” he sighs in defeat. “I’ll tell you.”

“Hm.” Feng Xin says, satisfied, and lets go of Mu Qing.

Mu Qing takes a deep breath. “You know how my mom always comes visit me on New Year’s Eve?”

“Yeah, I know, she won’t stop fussing over us.” Feng Xin sighs fondly, reminiscing about Mrs Mu’s last visit to their campus, where she fussed over how Feng Xin and Mu Qing kept their dorm room and cleaned and reorganized everything.

“Yeah well, she didn’t come to visit this year.” Mu Qing hangs his head low, trying to not let Feng Xin see the tears in his eyes. “She promised that she would come on my birthday, but I’m still kinda bummed that she didn’t come for New Year. She always comes to visit, yet this year, she didn’t come. I know it’s silly and kind of stupid, but I haven't seen her in so long and I miss her, you know what I mean?” he sniffs and wipes the tears away. He uses a moment to muster up the courage to look at Feng Xin, fully expecting him to laugh at him or otherwise be weirded out, but once he raises his head, Feng Xin’s expression is unreadable.

“Don’t, I already know what you're thinking.” Mu Qing turns to the side, expecting Feng Xin to burst out laughing.

But what he didn’t expect was for Feng Xin to wrap his arms around him and envelope him in a tight hug.

Mu Qing is startled at first, but eventually melts into the hug and wraps his arms around Feng Xin’s waist.

“Mu Qing, it’s okay to miss your mom.” Feng Xin says as he rubs circles on his back. “It’s completely fine to be sad about your mom not coming to visit you on New Year’s. You can talk to us about it. Xie Lian, Shi QingXuan, me… We’d all listen.”

Tears spill out of Mu Qing’s eyes and he cries into Feng Xin’s shirt, but his mouth can’t stop morphing into a smile as he cries, and once he faces Feng Xin, he’s fully smiling.

That sight makes Feng Xin’s heart leap.

“I-I know, thanks.” Mu Qing wipes the tears away and looks down. “Feng Xin, there’s something I need to tell you.”

Feng Xin’s breath hitches. “What is it?”

Mu Qing takes a deep breath. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but since we’ve known eachother long enough, I might as well tell you..”

“10!”

“What do you mean?” Feng Xin asks nervously.

“It’s kind of stupid, and you might hate me for it.”

“9!”

“But,” Mu Qing prepares himself. “I think it’d be better to just tell you instead of hiding it.”

“8!”

“Feng Xin,” Mu Qing begins, staring into Feng Xin’s eyes.

“7!”

“I have a crush on you.”

That takes Feng Xin by surprise, and he is frozen for a split second. “W-what?” he says weakly.

“6!”

“It means that I like you, romantically.”

“5!”

“And I would like you to be my boyfriend.”

“4!”

Feng Xin has to pinch himself a few times just to make sure he isn’t dreaming. “You’re serious?”

“Yes.”

“3!”

“Well then,” Feng Xin puts a hand on Mu Qing’s cheek. “I’d like to.” he says as he stares into his eyes.

“Oh.” a pretty blush floods Mu Qing’s face. “Well then would you want to-”

“Yes.”

“2!”

Mu Qing raises a hand to caress Feng Xin’s cheek, and takes a deep breath. He dives in, lips fitting onto each other perfectly, and touching as soon as the crowd chanted 1.

“Happy New Year, Feng Xin.” Mu Qing smiles as he presses his and Feng Xin’s foreheads together, fireworks going off in the background.

“Happy New Year, Mu Qing.” Feng Xin says before diving in for another kiss from his boyfriend.

Notes:

Thanks for reading this train wreck of a oneshot! It's definitely not as good compared to the other one I have and I think I'll rewrite it one day to fix the mistakes, but for now, happy new year and I hope 2023 will not be as bad as the previous 3 years (I do not have high hopes tho.)

Link to OG on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43982388

Inexplicable Things (Ch. 4)

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

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3 

Chapter 4 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Draco mumbles, as he shifts from his sleeping spot into a more proper sitting position.

“Like what?” Harry says wide eyed and innocent.

“Ugh, you’re impossible” Draco retorts, running his hand through his tousled hair, “So what’d you say Harry? Are you going to help me drown my sorrows?” His smile looks strained and manic. The twinkle in his eye is a bit dull.

Harry looks at him and wants to tell him no, that he thinks they should talk things through, that they should be sober for it. His eyes trace across the strange tension in Draco’s shoulders, the sad downturn at the sides of his mouth, and realizes that maybe that would be selfish.

No matter what Draco says about Narcissa it’s clear her hospitalization has shaken him to the bones. He’s seeking Harry out for comfort, not for an in-depth analysis of their shared past. If Draco wants to get blazingly drunk then that’s what they’ll do.

“Depends what we’re drowning them in,” Harry tells him and Draco’s smile spreads a little wider. Harry’s certain he’s made the right choice.

~~~~~~~~~

Some twenty minutes later, they’re sitting on the floor in Harry’s living room with an odd assortment of firewhisky, butterbear, soda water and some multicolor syrups that Ginny had stolen from Ron’s bar a couple weeks before.

Harry watches Draco dubiously as he carefully pours the liquids together into tall clear glasses. He stirs for a second, lips pursed and brow furrowed, before pushing one across the table towards Harry.

“Bottoms up,” He says, picking up his glass. Harry mirrors his movement gingerly, lifting the rip to his lips and taking a tentative sip.

He quickly sets the glass back down spluttering, “Merlin, that stuff is foul!”

Draco raises his eyebrow and sips his drink calmly, “This is the type of drink they used to serve at pureblood parties back in the day.”

Harry blanches, grabbing the soda water and gulping it down straight. “Didn’t know purebloods had a taste for decomposing dishwater.”

“Oh my God Harry shut up.” Draco says. Harry wonders again where he’d picked up Muggle swears.

“Here,” Draco continues knocking a new glass against his arm. Harry reaches for it and breaths a quiet sigh of relief when he realizes it’s pure firewhisky.

“Alright, race you to the finish,” Harry says.

“Hey, no fair. My drink’s like four times the size of yours,” Draco whines.

“Your fault for being so posh.” Harry tells him, winking over the rip of his glass.

“Fine. Be like that.” Draco tosses his blonde hair behind his shoulders and picks up his glass hastily.

Draco lifts the glass to his lips and begins drinking, and drinking, and drinking. Harry can’t tear his gaze away from the way his throat undulates in the firelight. He can’t stop thinking about reaching one of his hands out and feeling the way it moves. By the time Draco slams his glass down onto the coffee table and wipes his wet mouth on the back of his hand Harry’s head is spinning in a way it shouldn't until he’s at least four drinks in.

“That was actually pretty impressive,” he says rather hoarsely, his eyes darting from Draco’s mouth to his throat and back again.

“I know,” Draco winks at him. Harry tries unsuccessfully not to blush.

~~~~~~~~~~~

By the time Theo and Ginny arrive home with Dean in tow Harry and Draco are thoroughly drunk.

Harry watches them enter the room through blurry eyes and wonders if he should be embarrassed by how totally gone they are on a weekday. Then, Theo stumbles on the corner of the rug and Dean tries to right him unsuccessfully and they tumble onto the floor giggling, and Harry realizes that him and Draco might not be the only drunk ones in the room.

“Well, well, well, “ Draco says with a gentle slur in his words. “Look who’s joined the party.”

“Ooo what are you drinking?” Ginny asks, dropping to the floor next to him and closely examining his cup.

“Ugh, don’t even ask, it's horrid,” Harry groans, his stomach recoiling with just the thought of Draco’s drink.

Draco offers Ginny his glass and she disregards Harry’s advice taking a large swing.

“Ohhh,” She breathes happily, raising the glass to her lips a second time,”This reminds me of when I would sneak drinks at parties when I was younger.”

“I can’t believe you two,” Harry says grumpily, wrinkling his nose in protest.

“Don’t be put out Harry, I’ll drink firewhisky with you,” Dean tells him plopping down onto the wood floor next to them.

“Oh good,” Harry grins at him dreamily, handing over his glass.

When he looks back over at Draco, he’s watching him, a funny light in his gray eyes. Harry’s cheeks flush and he focuses on the floor in front of him.

~~~~~~~~~

Ginny decides that they need to play drinking games. They start with charades. Ginny and Draco quickly team up to get Theo as drunk as possible and Harry and Dean retaliate giving drinks only to Ginny and Draco in response. Harry’s face aches from laughter. Eventually, he’s drunk enough to try Draco’s horrible concoction again and he’s shocked to find it worryingly good.

“All right, for our next game,” Ginny proclaims with glee. “We will be playing the wonderful game of twister.” She pulls the box out of the living room cabinet with a flourish. “Whoever falls down first drinks!”

Harry groans. He should have known it would come to this.

Ginny had been introduced to Twister at one of Hermione’s parties and ever since she forced them to play it any chance they got. A lump in his throat arises at the thought of tangling his body against Draco’s in the presence of other people and he swallows it down quickly before grabbing the corner of the Twister sheet and helping Ginny arrange it on the floor.

Several minutes later, Harry’s laughing so hard he can barely hear the instructions. He’s bent forward in a downward dog over Dean’s legs and everyone else is tangled above them in a quivering know of octopus-like limbs. He can hear Ginny’s giggles close to his left ear. When Draco is coached to move his left hand to yellow, Dean's elbow knocks into his back and he sways into Draco's side as his body moves in beside him. Gasping and cursing they right themselves and narrowly avoid a tumble onto the floor. Draco’s warmth against him sends a hot tingle up his side and Harry narrows his eyes on the brightly colored dots below him in an effort to ignore it.

Then, Ginny calls the next instruction and Theo knocks into the back of Harry’s knee and suddenly they all lose their balance, tumbling towards the floor.

Harry gets lost in the warm press of bodies above him. When the chaos finally settles he opens his eyes and suddenly becomes aware that he’s laying flat on his back with Draco sitting on top of him, legs tangled together, and Harry's arms splayed above his head.

“Oh” Harry gasps, chest still heaving from laughter.

“Looks like you fell first if you’re underneath me,” Draco says smugly, his face very close to Harry’s. His breath smells bitter like alcohol and sweet like syrup. Harry finds himself acutely aware that it would take only a little movement to brush his lips across Draco’s mouth.

Harry meets Draco’s eyes and sees his realization reflected there. They stare at each other and the air feels static around them. Harry thinks he could change everything if he leaned up and let their lips brush right now, where his friends could see them, where Draco might realize that he’s not something that Harry wants to hide. Draco’s eyes widen a fraction.

Then, Ginny knocks into them and Draco tumbles off of Harry’s lap in a whirlwind of limps and Harry’s still laying on the floor, flat on his back, lips cold and empty.

“Get up Harry! It’s time for you to drinkkk,” Theo tells him in a sing-songy voice, kicking him swiftly in the leg.

~~~~~~~~~

Dean’s the first one to fall asleep. It feels like it happens in a split second, one minute they’re sitting around the coffee table talking, the next Dean is sprawled out across the dark green upholstery snoring softly.

“Well,” Ginny says quietly, so as not to wake him, “I guess it’s time to go to bed.” She pushes herself off of the floor clumsily. “This was great, we should all do this again.” She pats Harry, Draco and Theo sloppily on their heads and stumbles off to her bedroom.

“Ugh, she’s right.” Theo mumbles sitting up from where he’d been laying across the floor, “I can’t believe we have work tomorrow.” He uses the coach to hoist himself into a standing position and knocks against the coffee table precariously before righting himself.

“Have a goodnight!” He calls, flapping his hand in a tired wave as he disappears into his room. His light flicks on, illuminating the hallway in a bright stripe before the door clicks closed definitively leaving Harry and Draco alone together in the living room with nothing but the dim glow of the dying fire.

“I don’t think I’m sober enough to apparate home,” Draco tells him, his voice tentative.

Harry glances over at Draco’s flushed cheeks and unfocused eyes and knows he’s right. “That’s fine, you can stay here.” His tongue feels cumbersome in his mouth and the words come out soft and blurry.

For a long moment Draco looks at him, just looks. “Okay.” He says, a smile spreading across his face sudden and hesitant.

“Oh, but the coach is taken,” He observes flatly, looking at Harry defeated.

Fuck, it is, Harry thinks frantically. The only place left is his bed and he’s not sure if he can handle that. Not when Draco’s the one who broke his heart into scattered pieces that he’s still trying to assemble.

“So,” Draco says slowly, as if he’s feeling out the words, “We could share your bed? I mean, we’ve done it before.”

Harry stills for a moment, his gaze settling on Draco’s face. He watches as he catches his lip between his lips and bites it nervously.

“That does seem like the only solution,” Harry says with a calmness he isn’t feeling, “Come on then.”

Draco blinks up at him for a second with an expression on his face that Harry could only describe as disbelief. “Oh yes, okay.”

~~~~~~~~~

Inside Harry’s room Draco stands awkwardly in the corner while Harry scorers his drawers for something that Draco can sleep in. He settles on a large light blue t-shirt and tosses it over. Draco catches easily and begins to shrug off his shirt. Harry catches a glimpse of collarbones and the dark edges of a tattoo before a sudden urge of want slams through him, and he has to turn away, busying his hands by rifling through the clothes in front of him.

When he turns back, Draco is wearing the shirt draped over his body. The end of it falls just above the hem of his boxers revealing pale slender thighs. Harry needs a moment to collect himself and he realizes that over the course of the night he will spontaneously combust from sexual tension.

“I might have a toothbrush you can use,” Harry tells him, leading Draco over to the ensuite bathroom that he’d been lucky to win off of Theo during a tireless summer of cutthroat pool games. He rummages around under the counter and manages to unearth a pale blue toothbrush encased in a clear plastic wrapper.

“I know how much you hate relying on cleaning spells for your teeth,” He says casually as he extends the toothbrush towards Draco’s hand.

As Draco takes it hesitantly their skin brushes sending a burst of heat through Harry’s fingertips.

In need of a quick distraction Harry steps away from him into the bedroom and shrugs off his own shirt to change.

Draco makes a noise sort of like a high pitched hum and Harry swings back around, noticing the way the toothbrush is sliding through his lips, his cheeks hollowing around it.

“What?” Harry asks, unsuccessfully trying to look away from Draco’s mouth.

Draco’s response is garbled by toothpaste and he turns back to the bathroom mirror swiftly. The back of his neck looks a little pink.

Harry is finding it hard to think, so he lets it slide, turning back into the bedroom.

He feels like his skin is stretched so tight over his body that it might burst. It takes every inch of his restraint to keep himself from striding into the bathroom and wrapping his hands firmly around Draco’s slim waist and pushing him back into the cool granite counter. Instead, he heaves a giant trembling breath and shakes the blankets flat over the bed.

“Hurry up.” He calls to Draco, grabbing his face-wash off of the dresser and crowding back into the bathroom.

Draco inhales as if he’s about to say something but then stays quiet, stepping away from the sink.

Harry brushes his teeth and washes his face quickly. When he raises his face from the water his eyes meet Draco’s in the mirror and he realizes that Draco’s been standing there watching his whole routine. “Come on let's get to bed,” He tells him, and his voice comes out low, gentler than he had planned.

Harry leads the way into the bedroom and Draco follows quietly. He hovers at the end of the bed for a moment as Harry burrows deep under the duvet, sighing gently at the cool slip of sheets against his skin.

“Get a move on Draco, we haven’t got all night,” He taunts softly. He hopes Draco can’t tell that his hands are sweating or that his heart is beating so fast it feels like he may actually have a heart attack at the tender young age of 25. Inevitably, he feels the dip of the mattress as Draco slides in beside him and his pulse speeds up even more. Every molecule in his body aches to move in closer and Merlin, this is really going to kill him isn’t it? There’s no way he’s going to survive the night.

Draco shifts beside him and their calves brush. Harry just barely manages to suppress a full body shiver. He wants to hex himself in the face.

“Goodnight,” Harry tells Draco, focusing extra hard on the ceiling above their heads.

“Goodnight,” Draco echos, the timbre of his voice cutting straight to Harry’s core. He’s silent for a moment before he continues. “Thanks for letting me stay.”

“Anytime,” Harry responds and realizes that he means it.

He reaches over and flicks off the light, plunging them into darkness. It feels more intimate like that. The two of them alone with only the sound of their breath and the soft whisper of sheets.

“Are you warm enough?” Harry asks. He wants to punch himself the moment it’s out. Circe, it sounds like he cares. Which he does, but like, Draco doesn’t need to know that. At least not now. Not when they’re drunk and Harry is seconds away from doing something stupid.

“Yes.” Draco says simply. “You know me, I don’t get cold too easily.”

You know me.

Harry’s lungs feel tight. It would be so easy to turn over, to catch Draco’s lips against his.

Then, Draco’s body shifts and he feels him turn away, towards the wall. There is enough space between them for another body, a marked difference from the times they’d shared a bed, when they were wrapped around each other so tight Harry almost couldn’t tell where his skin ended and Draco’s began. Harry breathes in and thinks he can smell hints of Draco’s aftershave, fresh traces of citrus and cedar. He feels cold even under the billowing blankets. Shivering, he turns on his own side and faces the opposite wall. He can’t shake the feeling of Draco’s presence beside him and it takes him many minutes before he falls into a fitful sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

Harry wakes once during the night to a heavy warm weight around them. He’s hot in the blankets and he tries to kick it off only for it to squeeze him tighter. He opens his eyes a little to the pitch black room and startles a little when he realizes that Draco has turned over in his sleep and he’s clutching at his waist tightly like Harry might vanish at any second. His sleeping breaths tickle at Harry’s neck. Harry holds himself very still.

Draco makes a noise in his sleep and shifts backwards a bit, pulling Harry with him and pressing their bodies flush together. Harry rests his head back against Draco’s chest and tries to relax. His eyes find the clock on his nightstand. It reads 3:34 am. Harry feels like he’s in a haze, like they’ve entered an alternate universe where only the two of them exist. He closes his eyes and slides his hand to cover Draco’s. Draco doesn’t even stir. He lets himself melt into the gentle comfort of body heat beside him. It takes almost an hour for him to drift back to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~

The second time Harry wakes up there's a gentle light drifting through the curtain and the sheets are cold beside him. He thinks Draco might have snuck out in the night and he suddenly feels nauseous.

He rolls over onto his back trying to get a grip on his emotions and is startled to find Draco sitting up in bed next to him ramrod straight and as far away from Harry as possible.

“Um, is everything alright?” He mumbles carefully, surreptitiously wiping a bit of drool from his cheek.

Draco turns to look at him, his gray eyes rimmed with red, “You know the thing you said yesterday about my mother? Is that how you feel about me?”

“Um, what?” Harry says dumbly, pushing himself up until he’s sitting against the headboard next to Draco.

Draco still looks so beautiful even when he’s falling apart. Slowly a tear traces its way down Draco’s pale cheeks. Harry reaches out and catches it on his finger.

“I’m selfish, but you can’t stop loving me?” Draco asks, voice cracking. Then he pauses, his eyes flashing panic. “I mean, um, uh. Not love me but like you’re still attracted to me, or like, like me even though I’m selfish?” His face flushes brilliantly and he pulls his knees up into a ball hiding his face in them.

“Um, yeah.” Harry answers his voice slow and somber like each word is being dragged out of him, “I guess that’s how I feel.”

“Oh,” Draco looks down at him again, eyes wide and dark.

Harry blinks and rubs a hand over his eyes. His voice comes out scratchy. “You could have stayed and talked to me. You didn’t need to just... leave.”

“Fuck,” Draco breathes softly, angrily brushing the tears off of his face. “I loved you so much back then,” The words come out in a rush not fully formed.

Harry blinks at him, not sure if he’s heard correctly.

“I didn’t know how to say goodbye. It’s stupid. I know. I’m stupid. I just thought if I didn’t say goodbye it wouldn’t be real, that things wouldn’t seem so final.” He tilts his head back against the wall and looks fixedly at the ceiling. Another tear rolls quietly off his cheek.

“You..” Harry breaks off and stares at Draco silently for what feels like the better part of a decade. The air feels brittle around them.

When he finally speaks there’s a tremor in his voice, “You loved me?”

“Merlin, Harry. Of course I did.”

Draco finally looks at him and they stare straight at each other for a long time. Harry’s hands begin to shake. “I-” his voice comes out too soft and he coughs slightly before continuing, “I felt the same way.”

“What?” Draco blinks at him, gray eyes bright and bottom lip trembling.

“I loved you. I thought it was so clear.” Harry shifts slightly until his side presses against Draco. The body heat between them feels comforting and helps him stabilize himself. “I loved you so much I couldn’t see a way out. When you left -” He breaks off his eyes shiny with tears, “When you left I didn’t know how to picture a life without you.”

“Harry,” Draco says gently, “I never thought you would love someone like me. I’m awful. I’ve done awful things. As much as I tried to convince myself we had a chance I just couldn’t believe it. I’m sorry I left but you didn’t need to rub it in how fast you moved on without me.”

“What?” Harry asks voice shrill, “I didn’t move on. At least not for so long. What are you talking about?”

“I was in France, not another planet, Harry. I saw the newspapers. You don’t need to pretend.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Harry’s voice rises with each word. His eyes are wild.

“You got back together with Ginny,” Draco spits at him, “I saw the papers. Everyone knew about it. I can’t believe you’re acting like it never happened.”

“I didn’t get back together with Ginny.” Harry speaks slowly, carefully enunciating every word. He feels a flicker of anger lick at his ribcage and he takes a deep breath. Getting angry at Draco has never worked. They have to talk this through.

“You were photographed leaving a pub together right after I left.” Draco says, cold and venomous. “All the headlines were variations of Weasley-Potter: Romance Rekindled. I didn’t believe it at first but then I saw the photographs. You were hanging all over each other and you just looked so happy. That’s when I knew I didn’t stand a chance. That there was no way you could have loved me.”

Harry stares at him shocked. Draco catches his gaze and holds him there, his silvery eyes seem to search him right down to the bone.

Suddenly Harry remembers.

~~~~~~~~~~

It had taken a full week for Ginny to convince Harry to leave his room. She’d arrived on his doorstep after dinner time holding a plate of extra food and Harry couldn’t remember the last time he’d ate. She forced him to eat it, her bright eyes tracing his hands as he lifted each morsel to his mouth. She hadn’t asked what was wrong. If she had, Harry would have thrown her out, rolled over, and gone back to sleep.

Instead, she’d sat with him and told him all the drama he’d missed. She’d described Ron and Hermione’s latest fight and told him all about the prank Luna had played on Neville. The normality of it all caused Harry’s numbness to fade a little. So, when Ginny had invited him out to the Hog’s head that night he’d said yes. He was tired of wasting time on Draco. Draco had left. Draco had shown him who he was and Harry was ready to listen.

At the pub they got deliciously drunk. Harry’s limbs felt loose for the first time all week. He watched as his friends twireld and spun in the rainbow lights and he felt hope that one day he would be happy again. When Ginny and Ron had pulled him into their outrageous rendition of the chicken dance he joined in. The smile that spread across his face felt alien but okay. Things would be okay.

They’d drifted out of the pub in twos, wrung out and full of light. He and Ginny were the last to leave. The spring night was cold and they'd huddled together for warmth. Harry had draped his arm around Ginny’s shoulders, Ginny burying herself in his side. Outside the pub they’d stumbled several times. They’d been laughing at the hilarity of not being in control of their limbs when a flashbulb went off in their face blinding them.

“What the hell,” Ginny had screeched.

“Shit,” Harry had said, softer, before turning on his heel and apparating them up closer to Hogwarts.

The papers had published the picture of them the next day, spouting rumors of rekindled love and eminent proposals. Harry had ignored them. He didn’t see a reason to correct them. Not when Draco was in a different country. Not when Draco had made it so clear he wouldn’t ever love him.

~~~~~~~~~

“Oh,” He says gently, looking at Draco wide eyed, “I’d forgotten about that. The papers were wrong.”

“What do you mean the papers were wrong?” Draco asks, words slow, like they’re being dragged out of him one at a time.

“Me and Ginny were never together like that, at least not since the war.” Harry tells him carefully.

Draco gulps, Harry watches his adams apple bob in his throat.

“Fuck,” Draco breathes, finally looking away from Harry’s eyes. Harry wants to grab his jaw and turn his face back. Instead, he clenches his fists around the white sheets and focuses on the way the fabric tightens over his skin.

“I’m sorry.” Draco tells him. He’s still looking away. Harry watches his eyelids flicker rapidly.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you,” Harry’s voice trembles. “I mean you could have stayed and fought.”

“I know.” Draco’s voice is rough. “Merlin, I know. I’ve thought about you every single day since I left.”

“Draco,” He exhales. He wants to tell Draco that this is the best thing that’s happened to him, maybe ever. But he catches himself. Instead, he reaches over and clasps Draco’s forearm, giving him a stern look. “I thought about you too.”

Draco finally turns back to him, catching his gaze in a flash of silver. “But you can’t forgive me,” His voice was flat, his mouth turned down at the corners.

Harry focuses on the warmth of Draco’s skin under his palm. He takes a deep breath and his lungs expand. “I can’t forgive you immediately,” He corrects.

The corners of Draco’s mouth tug up slightly, “Okay,” He says, “Okay, I can work with that.” Then he pauses, “You can tell me to leave now if you want. The last thing I want to do is overstay my welcome.”

Harry looks him square in the eyes, he looks more than a little pathetic, eyes wide and fretful. “Stay for breakfast.” He squeezes Draco’s arm and feels it through his skin as his muscles relax.

“Thank you,” Draco tells him gently, leaning into his side, “For letting me stay, but also for hearing me out.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Harry says. A small smile spreads it’s way across Draco’s face.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Draco takes the first shower.

Which is fine, because Harry is polite and Draco is his guest and of course they both want to be clean for work. It’s also not fine, because it turns out that sitting on your bed listening to the sound of water against the naked body of a beautiful man is actually horrendously torturous.

Harry isn’t freaking out. It’s just that his mind is going in two horribly incompatible directions. Part of him is back 10 minutes ago combing over the words of their conversation, trying to decide what it would take for him to truly forgive Draco. The other half of him is dedicated to painting a picture of Draco right now, the way his head is tilted back under the shower-head, the gentle curve of his back, the swell of his bum barely exposed through the steam collecting around him.

Harry pushes himself off of the bedspread and begins to pace. The wood floor is cool under his feet. He wracks his brain for anything that could distract him from his thoughts and displace the heat that is slowly pooling in his stomach. He is unsuccessful.

When the shower shuts off Harry halts in his tracks. Okay. This won’t be awkward. Why would it be awkward now? It will be fine. Just as long as Harry keeps his eyes away from Draco and doesn’t blurt out anything stupid. He wrings his hands behind his back and pretends to be extremely focused on digging through his drawers for a change of clothes

At the sound of the bathroom door Harry looks back and freezes. He doesn’t fidget. He doesn’t sway. He doesn’t move.

There, standing before him is Draco, towel slung loosely around his waist, hair dripping onto his shoulders. A droplet of water snakes across the swell of his chest, continues down over his lithe abdomen and disappears, absorbed by the towel. He’s so close to Harry. Close enough that Harry could lean forward just a very little way and place his hands on Draco’s slim waist. Close enough that he could lean forward and kiss him.

“Could I borrow some clothes?” Draco says, voice all gravel and depth, so much so that it sends a spark right through Harry’s core.

He stares dumbly at Draco blinking for a couple seconds. “Oh, yeah, um, clothes. Yeah I’ve got clothes,” He babbles nonsensically and gestures at the dresser before fleeing to the bathroom.

He slams the door quickly and leans against it. In the mirror he watches his blush spread across his cheeks and down his neck.

Harry takes his shower quickly. He turns the water up till it’s scalding. As it pours over his body he watches his stomach and thighs turn bright pink. He wonders what it would be like if Draco was there with him, his knees bent against the tile, his mouth hot against Harry’s dick. Angrily he caves in and has the shortest most embarrassing wank of his life. When he comes, he raises his free hand to his mouth, biting down on his fist to muffle his sighs.

Afterwards, Harry wraps a towel tightly over his hips and swings the bathroom open with a nonchalance he doesn’t feel. Draco is laying back across Harry’s bed wearing one of his button downs. The sight of him makes Harry’s heart flutter.

“Did the clothes fit okay?” At the sound of his voice Draco pushes himself off of the bed into a sitting position. Harry notes the way his eyes flicker down across his bare chest with interest.

“Oh yeah,” Draco says sheepishly, “Thanks again.”

As Harry turns away he adds with a smile in his voice, “I forgot your nipples were weirdly pointy.”

Harry grabs a shirt from the closet and whirls around, “You're having me on, my nipples are not weirdly pointy. If anything, your face is weirdly pointy.”

“Ooo,” Draco says sarcastically, “Burn.”

Harry rolls his eyes at him and tries to focus on getting dressed. He fumbles a couple times, distracted by the heat of Draco’s eyes on his body, but eventually prevails.

“Well, what do you say?” He asks Draco, once his legs are firmly in his pants and he’s buttoned his shirt twice to get the buttons even, “Are you ready to head down for breakfast?”

“Sure,” Draco says, smirking at him. Then he pauses, the line of his mouth falters, “Um, wait is that going to be okay? I mean, for Theo and Ginny to know I slept here?”

“ Oh, uh, yeah. They know about you,” Harry pauses, wincing at his inability to explain situations clearly, “I mean like they know about eighth year. They know we’re figuring things out. And I think they assumed you were sleeping over. We were all clearly too drunk to apparate.”

“They know about us?” Draco says slowly, as if he doesn’t comprehend.

‘Yes.” Harry says and Draco releases a sudden breath, head snapping up. There’s something in his eyes that Harry can’t quite read. On instinct Harry steps forward. He covers the ground between them in two steps and then he’s standing over Draco, legs bracketing him on either side.

“I’m glad they know.” Draco admits in a rush, his head tipped back and his blonde hair streaming behind him. Harry’s breath freezes in his chest. He reaches out and as his fingertips ghost across Draco’s jawline he realizes his hands are trembling. Their skin against each other feels like static electricity, like with one wrong move they could both get shocked. When Harry leans in he does it without thinking. When their lips finally meet it feels like ascendancy.

Bang

Harry’s bedroom door flies open and slams into the wall with a careless intensity. He jumps back from Draco as if he’s been burned.

“Harry! We’re going to be late.” Ginny yells as she barrels over the threshold. “Oh fuck!” She exclaims when she notices Draco perched on the bed looking particularly pale.

“Sorry! Merlin's beard, I didn’t realize you were here. Well, um, Theo’s made pancakes. They’re ready when you’re ready. Oh, and don’t take too long. We have to be at the office at 9:30, Harry.” She flushes bright red and rushes out of the room.

“Well,” Draco says slowly, a wry grin on his face. “I guess we’d better get down there.” He stretches his arms above his head exposing a sliver of pale stomach and Harry wants to tackle him back onto the bed.

“You’re right,” Harry replies. His voice comes out rough.

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.

Inexplicable Things (Ch. 6)

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 

Chapter 6 

On Friday Harry spends over an hour changing outfits in the mirror before leaving for pub night. After parting ways with Draco Wednesday morning he and Ginny had gotten caught up in their case. This meant that Harry hadn't had enough time to so much as stop by Draco’s office. He’s spent the last couple days yearning for Draco’s presence, for the glint in his gray eyes when he smiles, for the soft brush of his calloused palm against Harry’s knee.

Harry buttons up what must be the sixth shirt he’s tried on, and tries to ignore the slight tremor of his fingers. The depths of his stomach feel like a pit of snakes and his breath comes quickly. He tries to remind himself that he’s excited to see Draco, not nervous, not terrified.

Harry clenches his hands once and releases them slowly before turning on his heel in apparition. He stumbles a little as he lands, his heart rabbiting in his chest. Quickly before he loses his courage he swings open the heavy front door of the pub and pauses on the doorstep scanning the crowd for his friends.

There, standing near the dance floor, leaning into Blaise’s side is Draco. He’s wearing a tailored leather jacket and his blond hair is swept up into a loose french braid. Harry can’t rip his eyes away. He strides quickly through the throng of people. As he gets closer, Draco turns and catches his eyes in a flash of gray. They stare at each other as Harry moves in. When he reaches Draco he reaches a hand around his waist pulling Harry flush to his side and dropping a quick kiss to his forehead.

“Hey,” Harry says softly, grinning across at Blaise.

“You’re late,” Draco whines, leaning in further, his breath tickling across Harry’s ear. Harry notices the way he sways a little on his feet and wonders how many drinks Draco’s already had.

“Sorry, I got caught up with some chores at home,” Harry apologizes. “How are you doing Blaise?”

“Fine,” Blaise mumbles. He doesn’t look fine at all. In fact he looks quite upset, his lips are pinched into a firm hard line and his eyes stare unfocused across the room. Harry follows his gaze to where Ginny is talking to Dean. Her hair falls in slightly disheveled waves and her emerald green dress is loose, falling off of her shoulders. They watch as Dean clasps Ginny’s hand in his and pulls her in closer. He says something to her and she tilts her head back, sending laughter echoing across the room. Blaise tenses. Harry watches as his knuckles go white around the glass of his drink.

“Trouble in paradise?” Harry asks quietly.

“I don’t know,” Blaise sighs, “I just can’t really tell if she’s serious about me. I mean-” he breaks off, wincing a little, “We slept together but she left in the morning and now it feels like she’s avoiding me or something. It makes me wonder if she regrets it.”

“She didn’t seem like she regretted it,” Harry assures him, stepping forward a little and placing a comforting hand on his arm.

“I think you might scare her,” Draco chimes in. Harry nods slowly in agreement.

“Why would I scare her?” Blaise scoffs, “Are my Death Eater ties going to damage her reputation or something?” His tone comes out harsh and bitter.

“Blaise, you didn’t even play a part in the war.” Harry admonishes him.

“And I didn’t mean it like that anyways,” Draco interrupts.

“Then how did you mean it?”

“Like she can’t stop looking at you, or thinking about you, and she’s terrified she might mess this up so instead she flirts with other guys and pretends she couldn't care less what you think,” Draco rushes quickly. Harry nods in agreement.

“Are you speaking from experience?” Harry asks Draco, a cheerful gleam in his eye.

“Shut up,” Draco tells him, elbowing him in the side.

“I find that hard to believe,” Blaise mumbles.

Harry watches him watch Ginny and Dean across the room. They’re moving against each other to the beat of the music, lithe and rhythmic, like they don’t have a care in the world. And yet, Harry notices the way Ginny’s eyes flicker away from Dean every couple minutes, a quick glance back towards Blaise before skittering away into the crowd.

“I don’t, '' Draco says brightly, “She’s been watching you too you know.”

“She has,” Harry confirms.

“Whatever,” Blaise says, his tone bitter,“It doesn’t matter. Ginny’s free to do as she pleases. I’m not her keeper.”

“I bet the second someone tries to flirt with you she’ll be over here trying to scare them away,” Draco says, grabbing Blaise’s glass out of Harry’s hand and taking a swig.

Blaise looks at him suspiciously for a second, then Ginny’s laughter filters through the crowd a second time and his face hardens, a muscle flexing in his jaw. “Fine. I’ve got nothing left to lose anyways.”

“Perfect, now who will we-” Draco breaks off, turning away from them to scan the crowd, “Oi Theo! He hisses. Theo turns from where he was chatting quite animatedly with Luna and shifts towards them.

“We need you for an extra secret, extra important mission.” Draco explains, his voice hushed, his eyes wide and serious.

Blaise rolls his eyes, “I wish I’d never agreed to this.”

“Um, what?” Theo asks, looking confused.

Harry sighs. “Ginny’s being stupid and ignoring Blaise. Blaise is all broken up about it. Draco thinks if someone flirts with Blaise Ginny’ll come over to scare them off,” He shakes his head a little.

“Yes exactly,” Draco says, sounding a bit manic. “So we just need you,” he points at Theo with a dramatic flair, “to flirt with our hot boy toy Blaise.”

Blaise winces and looks away, “It’s not important Theo you can go.”

“I don’t know,” Theo teases, raising his eyebrow, “It sounds like it could make or break the night. I’m in if you are. I’ve never turned down a noble cause in my life.” He puffs his chest up a little, preening in front of them. Harry rolls his eyes.

Blaise looks at them silently for a second and then something inside him seems to snap. “Fine,” He says, moving into Theo’s space and splaying his palm across his broad chest. “Give me your worst baby.”

Draco lets out a piercing wolf whistle and then steps back a bit pulling Harry with him. “You have to give them space,” he whispers, “you know to make it believable.” He’s adorable like this, his eyes light and mischievous, his body tipsy and relaxed. Harry nods at him, gets lost in the pale flush of his cheeks, the charcoal flutter of his eyelashes. He’s about to lean in for a kiss when Draco’s finger jabs between his ribs.

“Ouch,” Harry yelps, shoving his hand away.

“Sorry. Sorry,” Draco rushes, “But you can't get distracted now. It’s getting good.” He gestures to the couple in front of him. Theo has his hands wrapped securely around Blaise’s shoulders, Blaise is leaning into him, his eyes predatory, his lips curved up in a slight smirk.

“Look,” Draco hisses, pointing his finger past the boys, towards the corner of the room. Harry shifts his eyes and there, pushing through the crowd with her hair flowing out behind her like a battle cry, is Ginny. Her lips are pressed in a firm straight line, her brown eyes are blazing.

She shoves into the two boys pushing them apart. Theo drops his hands to his sides and sneaks a gloating look over to Draco and Harry.

“Excuse me, I must have lost my footing,” Ginny says coldly, glaring at Theo through narrowed eyes.

“Don’t worry about it,” Theo responds quickly. Harry can tell he’s holding back laughter.

The trio in front of them stands silent for a second. Draco clasps Harry’s hand with his, electric with barely contained excitement. Harry listens as the music around them switches to something slower with a softer beat.

“Well,” Ginny’s voice is low and deliberate, like every word is being dragged out of her, “Since I just happened to run into you, would you be so kind as to give me the next dance?” She offers her hand to Blaise. Theo smirks and backs up even further, lifting his hands in defeat.

“Sure,” Blaise says, taking her palm gently.

Ginny pulls him away through the crowd of people towards the packed dance floor, “You should really know better than to try and steal my man Theo,” She calls cheerfully behind her.

Theo finally loses hold of himself collapsing to giggles, “Looks like you too aren’t the only people with weird fucked up relationship issues,” He gasps, smiling up at them happily.

“We don’t have weird fucked up relationship issues anymore,” Draco informs him thrusting his nose into the air, “We’ve worked them out. We’re dating now.”

“Um.” a hot blush spreads slowly over Harry’s face, “We are?”

“What?” Draco looks taken aback, “You didn’t know? It couldn’t be more obvious Potter. I mean I literally took you out to dinner.” Theo looks back and forth between them slowly before breaking out into laughter again, “And you said you didn’t have weird fucked up relationship issues anymore,” He teases, his eyes glistening manically.

“We don’t,” Draco protests, “We might have slightly different communication styles but that doesn’t mean we have issues.” He wraps an arm around Harry's waist, tugging him closer. Harry burrows into his body warmth. “You’re just jealous Theo,” Draco adds, sticking his tongue out at Theo for good measure.

“You know what?” Theo says slowly, backing away. “I think I am. You’re cute together.” He turns away and wanders off leaving Harry and Draco alone together wrapped up in a warm embrace.

~~~~~~~~~~

Harry would prefer to spend the entire night glued to Draco’s side listening to him gossip with Theo about Kingsley's extracurricular activities or watching him aggressively teaching Ginny how to tango but eventually he gets ripped away by Dean who needs an emergency consult on if Seamus is flirting with him or not, and the conversations seems to take about three hundred years so by the time it’s finished Draco’s been swallowed up by the crowd.

When Harry finds him he’s in the back of the pub by the pool tables. Pansy is perched on the edge of the pool table, her feet kicking back and forth rhythmically. As Draco speaks to her she leans forward exposing more cleavage than Harry had ever thought possible. She tosses her long dark hair over her shoulder and blinks up at Draco.

No way, Harry’s not stupid. He knows what it looks like when someone’s trying to pull. He strides confidently towards them and wraps a casual hand around Draco’s side, slotting in next to him. Draco’s body relaxes immediately. He looks away from Pansy and runs his fingers carefully through Harry’s hair. Harry watches as Pansy’s eyes narrow and then widen again.

“Well,” She says slowly, “This is new.” Her eyebrows rise up her forehead.

“New, and also rather old,” Draco informs her sheepishly, leaning even further into Harry’s side.

“Oh?” Pansy purses her lips.

“We hooked up a bit in eight year,” Harry explains quickly. Honestly he’s a bit shocked Pansy didn’t already know.

Pansy’s stiff lips soften into a smirk,”You’ll always continue to surprise me won’t you Draco?” She kicks her leg out to tap playfully against his kneecap. “I can’t wait to tell everyone.”

“Um everyone might already know,” Draco informs her slowly.

“Wow,” Pansy’s eyes narrow again but this time her expression stays playful, “That is cruel and unusual punishment young Malfoy. What ever did I do to deserve this treatment?” “You were away in Italy,” Draco whines back, “How was I supposed to know you’d return and have all sorts of investment in my love life.”

“Love life is it?” Pansy waggles her eyebrows at him suggestively.

Draco falls silent, a light flush blooming on his cheekbones. Harry squeezes him in closer.

“I’m happy for you Draco,” Pansy kicks his knee lightly again. Draco smiles at her. Then she slides her eyes across glares a bit at Harry. “If you so much as harm one hair on this boy's head you will pay.”

“Er, yes. I mean I don’t plan on hurting him,” Harry stumbles quickly.

“I don’t care about intentions. I only respect actions,” Pansy tells him primly. She turns back to Draco and continues smiling at him.

They have what seems to be some sort of silent conversation for several seconds. Pansy winking and widening her eyes. Draco winking back at her. Harry feels a bit left out. It seems like Draco notices because he looks away from Pansy and back at Harry quickly.

“Well,” Draco says briskly, breaking the silence, “This has been very nice but I think it’s time I take my boy to the dance floor. I’ll see you soon for coffee, Pansy?”

“Yes of course,” Pansy says, still grinning at him.

Draco wraps his arm more firmly around Harry’s shoulder and stears him away through the crowd. Harry only looks over his shoulder once to confirm that Pansy is still glaring at him, her eyes suspicious. He’s surprised to feel a strange relief flush through him as the heat of her stare burns into his back. He’s glad there are people looking out for Draco, he realizes.

~~~~~~~~~

When they reach the dance Draco gathers Harry in his arms and automatically starts to shift his feet in rhythmic patterns. Harry attempts to copy him and immediately steps on his feet.

“How you survive as an Auror with no coordination at all really astounds me,” Draco comments, his lips twitching, his eyebrows raised.

“Well you know me. I’m always doing the impossible,” Harry shoots back.

Luckily the music quickly switches to something a little slower and Draco pulls him closer and they sway. The heat between their bodies bleeds slowly into Harry's veins. He leans in and their foreheads brush. Looking up into Draco’s eyes he realizes their lips are so close that with one slight shift they could be kissing. Draco seems to catch on at the exact same moment and Harry watches as he swallows, his adam's apple bobbing once in his throat and then he leans in.

They kiss for a while, mouths soft and wet against each other. The kisses are aimless, a happy little hello in the middle of so much lightness. Then, Ginny catches sight of them and lets out a piercing wolf whistle. It draws the attention of almost every one of their friends who join in on the whistling and cat calling until Draco and Harry quickly break apart laughing.

“Do you want to go outside for a bit?” Draco asks, his lips twitching as he controls his laughter.

“Yes,” Harry answers loudly, “I think we deserve a break from the appalling harassment of our friends.”

“Booooo,” Ginny calls. Harry notices that she's leaning against Blaise, her arm curled gently around his waist.

“Look,” He whispers, poking Draco in the arm, “Your plan worked.”

“Wow. Do you really have no faith in me?” Draco hisses back, mock offended, “Of course it did. I'm a scheming genius.”

Harry rolls his eyes and grabs Draco’s elbow pulling him out of their circle of friends and through the side door into the cold night air.

Draco immediately flops down onto the steps patting the space next to him in invitation. Harry joins him, leaning into his body warmth and straightening his legs out in front of him.

They sit for a while in silence. Harry watches the way Draco’s breath freezes in the air and drifts away in little silver puffs. His heart speeds up in his chest.

“Did you mean it earlier?” He asks quietly.

Draco tips his head until their eyes meet, “Mean what?”

“When you said that we were together,” Harry clarifies. He thinks his hands might be trembling, so he refuses to look at them.

“Of course I did,” Draco confirms, his hand falling to Harry’s kneecap. “But I mean sorry. I guess I shouldn't have assumed. If you don’t want to?”

“No I do. I do want to,” Harry rushes. He slides his hand over Draco’s fingers, his calluses drag across soft skin. “I just wanted to make sure you weren’t,” He pauses, gathering his thoughts, “joking around or playing a game or anything.”

“No,” Draco says simply. “This is real to me.”

“Me too,” Harry tells him. His heart slows down in his chest. His breathing quiets. They sit in silence for a while staring out into the inky darkness of the alleyway. It’s the comfortable quiet that's only possible when you’ve known each other for a long time.

“I love our friends dearly but do you want to maybe go home now?” Draco asks, breaking the silence.

“I’d like that,” Harry replies.

They rise, brush the dust off the back of their pants and clasp hands. Harry feels the tug of apparition in his stomach and seconds later they land on the hardwood floor of Draco’s bedroom.

“Sorry if picking the bedroom seems presumptuous,” Draco tells him sheepishly, kicking off his shoes. “I mostly wanted to get into comfier clothes as soon as possible.”

Harry laughs at him and kicks his own shoes off before unbuttoning his shirt and shucking it off onto the floor. He leaps onto the bed with careless freedom suggestively patting the space next to him. Draco winks at him and pulls off his own shirt. He drapes himself languidly across the duvet and stretches a broad hand over Harry’s hip pulling him closer. Harry lets himself melt into Draco’s skin.

“Why are you smiling so much?” Draco asks suspiciously. He’s trailing his hand in small circles across Harry’s chest.

“I just love being here with you,” Harry replies softly. Every time he touches Draco or looks into his eyes, or watches him across a crowded room the immense joy of it all hits him again.

“Me too,” Draco says, quiet and reverent. Harry reaches up and undoes his braid. Draco sighs as Harry massages along his scalp, his hands tangling through pools of glowing blonde locks. Harry loses himself in the gasp of Draco’s breath, in the slide of hair through his fist.

When Draco slips his hands under the waistband of Harry’s pants his eyes flicker softly shut. There’s no changing the past he thinks, but the future is wide open and the present is warm and breathtaking, gentle fingertips and open mouths and clothes carelessly crumpled on the dark wood floor.

This is the final chapter! Hope everyone enjoyed the adventure that was this fic :) I loved writing it. 

when you go (leave your shadow behind) 

pairing: Regulus Black/James Potter, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

summary:

The door opens and the light from the hall pours through, illuminating a silhouette. Regulus feels the air freeze in his lungs as he tracks his gaze frantically over rumpled brown hair and wide eyes.

“James!? What are you doing here?” His voice comes out a croak, cracked and an octave too low. Hesitantly he steps closer only to find himself twisted backwards and slammed violently against the wall.

“I’m not James.” The boy says roughly, his green eyes flashing as he jabs his wand directly into Regulus’s neck. “James is dead.”

Read on AO3

Prompt #1

Jaskier takes all of Geralt's comments to heart and stops singing around him. Geralt notices, and is horrified, as despite his emotionally constipated snarks, he adores Jaskier's music and finds him very talented. One day, Jaskier is singing at camp while Geralt is out hunting. Geralt comes back and Jaskier immediately stops singing and apologizes. Geralt tells him not to apologize and asks why he thought he had to, thus the secret comes out, and Geralt makes up for his previous comments with lots of love and praise toward Jaskier and his talents.

Prompt #2

There is not NEARLY enough Rapunzel AU fanfics. I'm thinking of mighty witcher Geralt coming across a lone, tall, moss, ivy, and lavender covered tower out in the woods, and being surprised to find a young man imprisoned there. I love the idea that instead of paintings like Disney's Rapunzel used to fill up her time and tower, that instead he sings and makes songs, so there's like.. Lyrics and sheet music scribbled onto the walls.

♡!Optional addons!♡ • Geralt is tracking down an evil infamous mage, of whom turns out to be the captor of this gorgeous musician he found

• Jaskier has blonde hair until it's cut like in Tangled, to call back to his Dandelion roots (hah.. Roots... Like hair... and dandelions..) • We could go the Disney's Tangled route and have there be a lost Prince Julian that Jaskier just so happens to resemble (and secretly is)

• Perhaps Jaskier is physically bound there by magic or chains, Or perhaps he's there out of nothing more than guilt, shame, and/or fear toward the person keeping him there • Perhaps Jaskier is a painter in this universe, and above all, wants to see real buttercups, dandelions, etc, out in the wild, for they don't grow near his tower, and the best he can get is his own paintings of their descriptions in books.

• Maybe if we feel more adventurous, Jaskier could be part harpy, kept in a mage's tower in a birdcage, kept for his magical hair activated by his magical singing (Ooh, this gives me more bird jaskier ideas.. You might see those soon)

• Or perhaps, after Blaviken, a witcher is sealed away in a tower, only for some dumbass (affectionate) struggling bard to stroll across and think it a perfect shelter from the oncoming rain.

Prompt 34

Jaskier is a succubus/incubus (Cause some sources say it's based on the entity's gender, and some say the name is based on the gender of the people they have sex with, so if he's a succubus or if he's an incubus is up to you, darling <3) Jaskier hasn't told Geralt of this, of course. He'd rather not add another thing to Geralt's seemingly endless list of things he hates about Jaskier. Jaskier jumps from bed to bed in towns, because he physically feeds on the passion of his little midnight trysts he has with lonely unsatisfied women in town. He'd go for men too, but doesn't need more mobs chasing him out of town and annoying Geralt. Geralt finally snaps at him one night, fed up with getting chased out of three fucking towns in a row. And the worst part isn't even the fact they keep getting thrown out. It's when Jaskier comes to him, ruffled, kiss-bruised, and reeking of sex he had with someone else. Jaskier, scared of Geralt leaving him behind, promises that he'll volunteer to have a dry-spell. No more cuckolding husbands for Jaskier, no sirree! However, being a succubus/incubus means that the longer he goes without some passion, the more weak he gets, and he starts to fall ill. Geralt grows increasingly worried. One night at camp, Geralt kisses Jaskier's forehead when Jaskier is asleep and he watches as color visibly returns to Jaskier's face, and Geralt's medallion hums. Geralt is now suspicious Jaskier has been cursed. Jaskier returns to looking peaky by the next morning. That is, until Geralt drags him into a hug on a hunch, and sure enough, Jaskier looks better. The more romantic the gesture, the more it seems to help Jaskier. Jaskier finally confesses what he is, bawling and sure that Geralt will banish him at the least and kill him at the most. Geralt is horrified, and hugs his friend close, promising he'd never do either. (BECAUSE THE MOUNTAIN BREAKUP SHOULD'VE NEVER LEFT THE WRITING ROOM) Geralt offers to have sex, wanting Jaskier to be healthy again, but Jaskier doesn't want the only time he gets to sleep with the love of his life to be when Geralt doesn't even love him back. He says as such, and Geralt stumbles his way through confessing that Jaskier's feelings are requited, and Geralt loves him too.

Prompt 46

In a modern world, Jaskier and Geralt are unlikely best friends. Have been for years. An odd new part of the routine however is Jaskier's sudden insistence on watching horror movies nearly every night he and Geralt hang out. It's the last thing they do every time, late at night, sat on the couch together, and it's what they do before Geralt leaves back to his place. They sit by each other on the couch, of course, they're fine with being near each other. They've been best friends for years. But Jaskier's fear of actually paying attention to what's on the screen usually ends up with them cuddling, as Jaskier hides from the movie by shoving his face into Geralt. But Jaskier just keeps asking for the horror movies, so he must like the movies, despite them scaring him. He was always a bit weird. Geralt supposes it's not too odd for his friend. That's why Geralt is incredibly surprised when he gets a call at 3 am from Jaskier's room mate, yelling at him to stop forcing Jaskier to watch movies he's afraid of, because they don't want to deal with Jaskier waking up from nightmares any more. Jaskier meanwhile thinks that the night terrors are TOTALLY worth getting an excuse to cuddle Geralt nearly every night. It's been so many years of being deeply in love with his best friend, and he's like a starving man being fed crumbs. He's just glad Geralt hasn't seemed to catch on yet!

Prompt 48

Jaskier is feeling insecure. This isn't new. He makes sure everyone always thinks he's at the height of his confidence, but he has bad days. Many times, actually. He had been working up the courage to tell Geralt how he feels, but he saw Geralt and Yennefer talking and it just started digging around in his brain. He's not nearly as pretty as Yennefer, and certainly not as powerful. He's just the annoying bard that follows Geralt around. Geralt is confused when Jaskier is suddenly trying to do everything and anything for Geralt. He's trying out eight different new hobbies, none of which suit him, and all of which being things that are purely practical. When Geralt finally confronts Jaskier about it, Jaskier breaks down over how he'll never be as good as Geralt's previous lovers, and Geralt finally finds his words in order to describe all the many things Jaskier does amazingly and every little quirk that Geralt adores.

When Jaskier's angry or upset, it's always "Don't touch me!" "Get away!" "Hands off!" And then the bard will be gone for hours or days until he calms down.

Now, Geralt understands this kind of reaction. He himself doesn't want to talk to/be around others when he's angry. Much less let anyone touch him. The thing is...Jaskier acting that way never fails to make Geralt feel like shit. Jaskier is usually so affectionate that the sudden cut off is jarring. The first few times it happened, Geralt had been sure that Jaskier was fed up with him and leaving for good.

However, Jaskier always returns. They make amends, and the bard resumes his touchy, affectionate ways.

One day though, they have their worst argument yet. And although he had always come back before, Geralt is certain that this is the time Jaskier will leave forever. If Jaskier walks out that door, Geralt is sure he will never see him again.

So, unthinkingly, Geralt catches the bard's wrist.

Jaskier's eyes widen, panic replaces anger. "Geralt! Let me go! Let me go right now!"

Geralt loosens his grip reflexively in response to Jaskier's panic. Did the bard think the witcher would force him to stay?

He opens his mouth to try to explain.

Only, the world is...spinning? And Geralt's tongue is heavy. And everything is warm. Oh, he feels like he’s going to hurl.

Then, he passes out.

An unknown amount of time later, Geralt wakes. He feels kind of hungover but is otherwise fine. To his relief, Jaskier is sitting at his bedside.

When the bard notices Geralt is awake, he inquires after his health. At Geralt's reassurance that he is fine, Jaskier launched into a tirade about the number of times he had told Geralt "NOT TO TOUCH ME WHEN I’M MAD! AND THAT INCLUDES RIGHT NOW, YOU SCARED ME HALF TO DEATH, YOU BASTARD!!!"

Geralt is a bit confused about how Jaskier being mad and his fainting spell are connected.

Two things are revealed:

1) Jaskier is part fae.

2) Some fae become toxic to touch when they are angry or upset. It is a magical trait, so it fades when the anger does. However, it can still be deadly.

This puts some things into perspective. Like how Jaskier, who seems to feel entitled to his emotions/reactions no matter how inappropriate they may be, is very skilled at cooling his temper. Or how, when he does become angry, he chooses verbal slander over physical violence. Or how when there IS a physical fight Jaskier wraps his hands in cloth and tries to use blunt instruments.

Bonus: Geralt tells all of the witchers not to touch Jaskier when he's mad, and Lambert takes that as a challenge.

I LOVE THIS!!!!!! OH MY GOODDDDDD!!! You take the things we spoke about and add onto it like putting glitter on a macaroni art craft, it's beautiful, It's so beautiful, oh my god! Poor Geralt thought his bard was leaving and poor Jaskier has to watch his stupid idiot Witcher touch him, gAH I love it! I want to read a 5k oneshot about it

Chapter 2 of Spring Blossoms, where Tony and Bucky grow plants and grow closer, filling square S2: Strawberries for my @tonystarkbingo (card 3022).

Ship/Main Pairing: WinterIron Rating: Gen Major Tags: Getting together, Tony Stark has a heart, Bucky Barnes has issues, gardening, Howard Stark's A+ parenting Summary: There wasn't much Tony had that was truly his, but this was one of them. Until he noticed Bucky struggling and decided to help. Word Count:1606

Hi! First, I just want to say that you are my favorite ao3 author <3 Can you do one where James starts getting suspicious of Sirius after he starts avoiding him. James thinks that it was because Sirius found out about his feelings and was uncomfortable about his pining but it turns out that he was hiding his injuries from his abusive parents? Hurt/comfort pls

((A/N: In line with the prompt, this mentions child abuse))

Sirius is avoiding him. It's obvious, and James kind of wants to grab his best mate and sit on him so he can't escape, but he has a sinking feeling that he knows why Sirius is avoiding him-- and that's much worse than being confused. A few weeks ago, he realised that he’s in love with Sirius. It's impossible to avoid thinking about, since they spend so much time together, and James? James doesn't do subtle. He didn't say anything to Sirius about his feelings, but it must’ve been obvious. He knows that he stares too much and gets lost in daydreams, and his expression doesn't hide anything.

He's in love with Sirius, and while he would like to date Sirius-- and marry him, but that might be even more terrifying for him to say aloud, if pining alone scared Sirius off-- he's not willing to sacrifice their friendship for it. He also knows that his feelings for Sirius aren't going to evaporate, so when Sirius starts to avoid him, James lets it happen. It'll give Sirius the space he wants, and-- he hopes-- the time to get used to the idea so that they can go back to being mates like nothing happened.

Except it doesn't happen.

Sirius isn't avoiding him completely, but it's far from being attached at the hip like they usually are. After three weeks of being bored out of his skull with all his time alone, James decides that enough is enough. He'll apologise for his feelings and let Sirius know that he doesn't expect anything from him, and then they can go back to normal. They've never had to deal with a weird patch like this, so he isn't sure that it'll go as smoothly as that, but why would things go worse? No point in thinking about it, he decides.

It's a night where there's no Quidditch practice and neither of them have detention, so James grabs the Marauders' Map and finds Sirius's stationary footprints just outside the castle walls, near the greenhouses. He is really hiding out to be over there-- they'd long since discovered that sound traveled too well by those buildings, and as such, don't hang out there.

James tucks the Map inside his robes, grabs the Invisibility Cloak, and leaves.

It is- well, it is weird for Sirius to be this upset about James fancying him, isn't it? His feelings should've made things awkward, not made Sirius run away for a few weeks just to avoid dealing with it. Maybe something else is going on with Sirius, and he just hadn't noticed because he was so sure the problem was his feelings. That would be- not better, really, but at least it wouldn't be James's fault.

James pulls off the Cloak as he gets close and folds it over his arm. "Enjoying the view?"

Sirius jumps in surprise, but he relaxes the instant he sees who it is. "Yeah, it's beautiful," he says, waving a hand half-heartedly at the view of the buildings surrounding them. 

"Better than the Black Lake." James sits down next to him, not thinking to keep his distance. Their arms bump together as he sits, and Sirius withdraws with a jerk. "Er."

Sirius looks down at the ground, as if ashamed of his reaction.

"Look, I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" he repeats with a frown.

"I didn't think me fancying you would make you so uncomfortable, but- look, Padfoot, I gave you a few weeks like you wanted, but us not being friends anymore is ridiculous, don't you think?"

"You fancy me?"

"Yeah, isn't that what this is about?" James asks, gesturing vaguely at Sirius and the greenhouses.

Sirius looks up, meeting his eyes. The moon is nearly full, so there's enough light to see his expression-- he looks heartbroken. "No. Merlin, no, I had no idea."

That's a relief that can't be overstated, easing the pain that had been gripping James's chest ever since this started. But if it's not him that made Sirius keep his distance, then what is it? He casts his mind out for an answer, but nothing jumps out. "Then what's going on?"

Sirius continues to look at him, then slowly leans in. It's obvious what he's doing as he reaches for James and their faces line up, but he can't quite believe that it's happening until their lips meet. "I wish you'd told me sooner," he breathes, then kisses James again.

James feels like he's floating. Each kiss Sirius gives him feel like this can't be real because it's so good. How is this happening? Ten minutes ago, he'd been sure that this was impossible and now... Merlin, now Sirius is holding onto him like he wants him and it makes the last few weeks feel like they never happened.

Only, when they stop kissing and decide to head back to the dormitory, James realises that Sirius never explained his avoidance. The Map is open in front of them, easing the way to Gryffindor Tower. James is the one navigating, so when he stops walking, Sirius does the same. He looks over and asks, "Why were you avoiding me the past few weeks? I thought it was because I fancy you, but you said it's not." 

Sirius swallows and doesn't meet his eyes. He's never been good at lying to James, and now is no different. "It's nothing."

"It didn't feel like nothing. The only reason I let it happen is because I thought it was my fault, but it wasn't. So, spill."

Nothing.

James puts an arm around Sirius's shoulders, but it's not the casual way he usually does it-- it's to stop him from running away. He starts walking again and drags Sirius along with him. He's not exactly sure how to make Sirius answer him. Sirius doesn't keep things from him, so he never needed to learn how. It means that he doesn't know what to do to make Sirius tell him but they're still best friends; he knows him pretty damn well. And right now, Sirius is unreasonably tense, in a way he's not when James is the one touching him. Unbidden, his mind retrieves the memory of when a bludger had taken Sirius out during a game; there had been a firm tension to his body then, too... identical to the way he's holding himself now. James grits his teeth but doesn't let go. "Are you hurt?"

For a moment, Sirius winds himself even tighter, and it feels like he's going to shatter, but then he breathes out, loosening fraction by fraction. It doesn't leave him relaxed, but he no longer looks like he's going to snap in two. "I didn't tell you because I knew you'd freak out. It's not a big deal, it's just taking longer to heal than I thought."

James ignores the comment about him freaking out. "How'd you get hurt?"

"...It's not a big deal."

"Yeah, you said that. How'd you get hurt?" he repeats, even though he has the uneasy feeling that he already knows. After all, who else could it be? Anybody else, and Sirius would've been able to defend himself; anybody else, and James would've already hexed their bollocks off.

Sirius clenches his jaw and says nothing, but they share a look that says it all: his parents.

James loosens his hold around Sirius's shoulders; now that he's not going to run away, there's no point in holding on so tight. He licks his lips as he tries to think of how to phrase the offer. "D'you want me to take a look?"

"No," he says, recoiling with wide eyes.

"I'm decent at Healing, and you're pants at it. Maybe I can help a little."

Sirius doesn't immediately tell him 'no' again; James wants to think of it as a victory, but it probably means that he's hurt badly enough that he doesn't mind-- as much-- if James sees him like that. He hates to be vulnerable, James knows. There's further hesitation before he says, "Only if you promise not to... be all James about it."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You get all... I dunno, panicky. I'm not going to Madame Pomfrey, and I don't want to hear you suggest it."

James knows he's going to regret this but, "I promise."

"And I want to snog when you're done worrying," he adds with a smirk.

James rolls his eyes, feigning an aloofness he doesn't feel. "You've a one track mind, don't you?"

"I'm prioritizing."

They banter back and forth as they walk to the dormitory, only quieting as they near the Fat Lady and don the Invisibility Cloak. James is as aware as ever about how close they are when they're both under it. As kids, they fit comfortably. Now that they've grown into themselves, it's less silly shuffling and learning to walk at the same time, and more James trying to control his body's natural reaction at being so close to Sirius.

The common room is empty, allowing them to pull off the Cloak. Sirius shoots him a knowing smirk, and he blushes. He doesn't want to, but he's caught out and there's no point in lying to Sirius, of all people. He can tell, as they trek up the stairs, that Sirius is hoping he'll lose focus. He wants for James to forget all about his injury-- injuries? he doesn't know and he's scared-- but it will take more than this to distract him. Even though it is a very... tempting distraction. Merlin, he needs to get his head on straight.

They're both lightfooted as they walk around the room, not wanting to wake their dormmates. They dress for bed, and Sirius joins James in his bed without question. James was a perfect gentleman when they were changing and didn't sneak a look at the injuries Sirius was hiding, but now the curtains are spelled to give them privacy, and Sirius is delaying taking off his shirt. He toys with the drawstring of his bottoms before heaving a sigh.

"Remember that you promised not to freak out," he mutters as he off his shirt.

For a moment, James worries that he'll be so busy checking him out that he won't be paying adequate attention to how hurt Sirius is. That worry vanishes the second his eyes take in the extent of the damage laid on Sirius's torso. 

With the reminder of his promise fresh in his mind, he holds back the rage that boils to life. He clenches his hands, fingers curled in so tightly they might stay that way. Magical injuries always look the worst. A bruise from banging into a door doesn't look the same as a bruise from a curse. Something about the tint of it makes it feel more sickly, and with the numerous ones on Sirius, highlighted by the occasional bandage, it's like a plague.

"Are-" James has to stop and clear his throat. When he tries again, he sounds much more in control. "Are those cuts?" he asks, gesturing to the bandages.

Sirius nods, jaw tight.

"I'll see what I can do for those. And I've got that extra-strength cream for bruises that we can use on the rest."

Sirius nods again and gingerly peels off the tape for one of his bandages so James can take a better look, then lays down and waits. He's tense but trying so hard not to be. It's obvious that he wants to cover up again, but he keeps his eyes safely out of the way and lets James work.

Reading about the different kinds of injuries was a lot more fun than seeing them right in front of him. Learning about it all sent a thrill through him-- the knowledge he had that others didn't, the power to heal what others couldn't. Seeing Sirius hurt just makes him want to hurl. There's no excitement to it. There's no comfort that he'll feel better at the end of this.

He touches Sirius carefully and warns before he casts any spell. He tries half a dozen, hoping for any noticeable change. His eyes strain from peering so closely, and he only calls it to an end when he feels himself tiring from all the magic in such a short time. He pulls off his glasses with a grimace and rubs at his eyes. "Sorry I couldn't do more."

"It's alright. I feel loads better," Sirius says, and it doesn't even sound like a lie.

James opens his eyes and looks at the slightly blurry figure with a flat expression. "You don't look any better now than when I started."

"I dunno if it looks any different, but it does feel better." He puts a hand on James's knee and strokes back and forth with his thumb. "Thanks."

James makes a vague noise of acknowledgment and lays down, facing him. He's close enough like this that his features are clear, even without the glasses.

Sirius turns so he's on his side, their faces scant inches apart. 

Given their conversation earlier, James half-expects for Sirius to kiss him. He can't believe he's thinking it, but he doesn't want him to. He doesn't want to be exhausted from magic and anger at Sirius's parents when they snog; it should be happy, like they are when they're together. 

"Promise you won't be angry about it in the morning?"

"If you think that's possible, then you don't know me," James replies with a smile, that Sirius reflects.

"Yeah, I didn't think so," he snickers. "I'll take a raincheck on that other promise. I still want to snog my new boyfriend." 

"But not now?" James checks. He doesn't want to right now either-- thinks it would be a bad idea if they did-- but he wants to be sure.

"Not now," Sirius confirms, looking soft around the edges. "Though..." He hesitates, then leans forward and gently presses their lips together. It's only for a few seconds, and it's clear this is the most they're going to do tonight; it's the most either of them want to do after that. He rolls over carefully, then scoots back so James can hold him. 

They've slept like this before, with James holding onto him like a stuffie. He hesitates because of Sirius's injuries, but that's taken care of a moment later when Sirius grabs his arm and pulls it over his waist, interlocking their fingers and hugging James's hand to his chest.

A goat walks into a Bar

This is my Witcher Secret Santa gift for the @thewitchersecretsanta event, my fic is for @martianapplecrumble I hope you enjoy and Happy New Year! <3

A Goat Walks Into A Bar

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