Microfic - Tumblr Posts

A little prompty promp/inspo song for your ask:

Brothers by Pillow Queens ❤

I love writing prompts so thank you so much for this one! I had never heard this song before and really enjoyed it :) I hope you like what I've written! This piece is mostly focused on the general vibes the song gave me as I listened 💜

Sirius sinks his face into the slippery cool liquid of the Pensive. He blinks, before he's ready for it he's there.

The crowd moves in front of him. There’s Lily, spinning in James’s arms, red hair shining in the strobe lights. Her cheeks flushed, her smile a mile wide. James looks at her like nothing else matters. Like he would follow her to the end of the earth.

Beside them Mary and Marlene crowd over the buffet table. They’re giggling, mouths full of canapes, hands grasping champagne flutes, toasting the end of school, the beginning of the rest of their lives.

Sirius swings his head searching the crowd. He glimpses Peter, stooped in the corner talking to a woman Sirius doesn’t remember. He flicks his eyes away, still searching. When he finds him his face is like a sucker punch to the stomach. It leaves Sirius’s cheeks pale, his fingertips trembling. Next to him is a young Sirius, all broad shoulders and confident strides.

Sirius watches as they turn away from the crowd, slip through the side door. He follows them.

Outside, young Sirius leans against the wall. He passes a cigarette to Remus. Sirius’s breath catches in his throat. He wants to remember, wants to forget, all at the same time.

Sirius watches as Remus exhales smoke, it balloons up over his head and twists away, dancing up towards the stars.

When he looks back to the boys in front of him they’ve shifted. Remus pinned to the wall beneath Sirius’s body, gasping against the silence of the night like he’s breathing for both of them.

Sirius steps away, pulls himself back and abruptly he’s back in the study.

The air around him feels stale, lukewarm. He takes a great shuddering breath, clenches his fists.

Suddenly, he’s sobbing. Great heaving sobs that wrack his entire body, and echo against his ragged breath. It feels like he can’t bear to let them out, but he can’t catch his breath either. They tear out of him.

For @hdcandyheartsfest prompt: slow dance. I really enjoyed this prompt. I’ve been loving reading everyone’s works for this month so far. Hope ya’ll enjoy my contribution :) 

Harry watches Draco move across the dance floor. His hair falls over his shoulders in slightly disheveled waves, and as he moves a little closer through the crowd Harry can see that his tie is loose, his white shirt unbuttoned. Pansy clasps Draco’s hand in her own and pulls him in. She says something to him and he tilts his head back, sends laughter echoing across the room. Harry tenses, tightens his grip around the cool glass of his drink. When Draco leans in closer, dropping a swift kiss to Pansys blushing cheek, Harry can’t quite keep the scowl off of his face. 

“You know Draco’s just being stupid,” Ginny tells him quietly resting a soothing hand on his arm. 

“I know,” Harry says, attempting nonchalant and coming out slightly defeated. 

“I think you just scare him,” Theo chimes in, shifting closer to them. Harry starts slightly, he hadn’t noticed that Theo was there. Then again, he doesn’t tend to notice much when Draco’s in the room. 

“He spent our entire childhood bullying me. I’m sure he’s not scared,” Harry scoffs, failing to keep the bitterness out of his voice. 

“But he hasn’t bullied you in years has he?” Ginny points out, her brow raised perceptively. 

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

“Then how did you mean it?” 

“Like he can’t stop looking at you, or thinking about you, and he’s terrified he might mess this up so instead he flirts with girls and pretends he couldn't care less what you think,” Theo rushes quickly. 

“I find that hard to believe,” Harry mumbles. He looks past Theo’s head to where Draco and Pansy are moving against each other to the beat of the music, lithe and rhythmic, like they don’t have a care in the world. 

“I don’t,” Ginny says brightly, smiling over at Theo. 

“Whatever,” Harry says, his tone a little bitter. “It doesn’t matter. Draco’s free to do as he pleases. I’m not his keeper.” 

“I bet the second someone tries to flirt with you he’ll be over here trying to scare them away,” Ginny adds grabbing Harry’s glass out of his hand and taking a swig, 

“Hmm,” Theo musses, narrowing his eyes and flicking them over Harry’s body. “I bet you're right. Well what do you say Harry? Want to give it a go?” 

Harry looks at him suspiciously for a second, then Draco’s laughter filters through the crowd a second time and he figures he has nothing left to lose. 

“Fine,” He says, moving into Theo’s space and splaying his palm across his broad chest. “Give me your worst baby.” 

“You wouldn’t know what to do with yourself if I did,” Theo murmurs back. Smirking, he raises one hand to the back of Harry’s neck, pulling him in until their lips are just inches away from each other.

Suddenly a warm body tumbles into them. Harry lets go of Theo and stumbles a bit before regaining his balance. When he looks up he’s gazing straight into steel gray eyes. 

“Excuse me, I must have lost my footing,” Draco 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 stands silent for a second. Harry listens as the music around them switches to something slower with a softer beat. 

“Well,” Draco’s voice is low and rough, like every word is being dragged out of him, “Since I just happened to run into you, would you be so kind as to give me the next dance?” He offers his hand to Harry. 

Theo jabs Harry in the ribs with his finger, urging him on. Draco watches their exchange with angry eyes, a tight tension in his shoulders. 

“Sure,” Harry says carefully. Draco’s palm against his sends a rush of heat up his spine. 

When they reach the dance floor Harry loses himself to the gentle beat of the music, the soft sway of Draco’s hips. Draco pulls him in till their chests are flush together. As he moves, Harry feels the sharp edges of his hip bones, the swell of the muscles in his thighs. 

“I’ve been waiting for this all night,” Draco admits, his hot breath tickling against Harry’s ear.

For @hdcandyheartsfest prompt: honey. This is just a small lil snippet of fic I thought of this morning while waiting for my class to start! 

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 honey 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. 

When you ask me if I have fallen out of love with you

For the @drarrymicrofic prompt: shattered. Again thanks to @phoebe-delia for the amazing first person advice, you can find their post on how to write in first person here

When you ask me if I have fallen out of love with you

I say no,

I say of course not,

because how could I have fallen out of love with you when I still find your hairs between the pages of my poetry, your fingertips in the dust of my window frame.

You are everything wild and breakable,

a bloody heart beating raw in my hands.

Inexplicable Things

(Complete, Words: 34.8K, Rating: E)

Pairings: 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.

Ironically the longest fic I’ve ever written was inspired by the @drarrymicrofic​ prompt: new beginnings. You can read it here on Tumblr or on AO3. 

Read on AO3

Read on Tumblr 

tonight my sleep will be restless 

this is an expert from my @drarry-spin-the-wheel-fest work. My prompts are Werewolf Harry or Draco and Meet Ugly. I’ve hit some writers block and I think I just need to know that someone enjoys the direction of this fic to inspire me to keep writing it haha. Hope ya’ll enjoy! 

“Don’t try to tell me you didn’t know Draco was in Scotland,” Harry spits through the fire. Blaise rubs his eyes groggily. He’s wearing an emerald green dressing gown embroidered with what looks like giant golden butterflies. The Slytherins have always had a bit of a wild fashion sense. 

“I didn’t know Draco was in Scotland?” Blaise has always been a terrible liar. 

“You’re a terrible liar,” Harry says angrily. 

Blaise smiles nervously. “Okay you caught me, I knew Draco was in Scotland.” 

“I can’t believe you,” Harry looks down and finds that his knuckles are clenched into fists, his knuckles stand out white against his tanned skin. He knows it isn’t good for him to wind himself up like this but he can’t help it. “You knew he was here and you encouraged me to buy the house RIGHT NEXT DOOR to him?!” 

“Um, yes. That might be exactly what I did.” Blaises curls his lip into a small smirk, “But isn’t it great? Now he can keep an eye on you.” 

“Don’t tell me you set this up because you thought Draco Malfoy would be a prime candidate for watching over the Savior of the Wizarding World. You didn’t think that the second he realized something strange was going on he would go straight to the press?” Harry demands. 

Blaise’s eyes widen slightly, “I didn’t really think about that,” He admits. “But he’s changed a lot since the war. I’m sure he won’t do that.” 

“Oh perfect. You didn’t think of that?!! What were you thinking about then?”

“Oh,” Blaise says brightly, “How when me and Ginny come to visit we can see both of you instead of taking portkeys to different places.” 

“So,” Harry’s voice comes out low, a dangerous strain to his words. “You’re telling me I bought a house in the middle of nowhere only to find out that Draco Malfoy is my neighbor all because you and Ginny wanted simple travel plans?”

“Well yes,” Blaise admits gingerly, scooting back from his fireplace a little as if he thinks Harry might reach through the flames and shove him. “When I think about it like that it does seem a little silly.” 

Harry shakes his head and forces himself to take a deep breath in through his nose and out through his mouth just like the sodding meditation practice Hermione is always forcing him to do. 

“Fine,” He grits out. “I’ll figure out how to handle it. But you have to tell Draco that it’s your fault I’m here. I don’t want him thinking I’m some obsessive stalker.” 

“Hm, I actually think that maybe that could be avoided? You see-” 

“No,” Harry says, “You tell him or I’ll tell Ginny about the time you stole her favorite dress to wear to Pansy’s drag party.” 

“Okay,” Blaise says, clenching his jaw. “I’m sure it won’t be a big deal. He’ll forgive me immediately.” 

“Whatever you need to tell yourself Blaise.”

Harry ends the firecall and slumps onto the rug. 

For Reasons Unseen

Ron asked her who she meant when she said there was someone else and she found she couldn’t tell him. 

She could feel the  name on the tip of her tongue, on the edge of her lips. Two syllables pouring through her blood stream, pounding on a loop tied to the beat of her heart. 

“It doesn’t matter,” she told him, flicking her fingers in a dismissive swipe of her hand. “Nothing’s ever going to come of it anyways.”

Ron watched her, his cheeks pale in the firelight, his lips pressed together in a firm like. 

When he got up and left without a word it felt like the aftermath of an earthquake, when everything is strange and silent and the ground  beneath your feet has shifted forever.

Another fic for the @drarrymicrofic prompt: shattered. As always with my first person pieces thanks to @phoebe-delia for the amazing advice, you can find their post on how to write in first person here

I am not totally whole yet but I am the next best thing.

By the next best thing, I mean that I am alive and I am drunk and I cannot even feel pain as I watch the bright red blood drip down my knuckles and pool on the wooden table. 

Draco is beside me. I watch as he tips a shot back past glistening lips. His adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. 

I want to reach out and touch him but I’m worried that someone will watch the red stains of my fingers press against his opalescent skin and tell me that I am staining everything. 

I am always staining everything. 

A fluffy fic for the @drarrymicrofic prompt: Angel Baby by Troye Sivan. I love Troye so this was such a fun prompt to do! Hope you all enjoy this piece :) 

Draco shows up drunk. Harry can tell he’s drunk because he opens the front door and immediately stumbles straight into the umbrella holder. There’s a small grin on his lips and when Harry reaches over to help him up Draco leans into his chest and his lips stretch wider. Harry watches as his smile grows teeth. 

“Congratulations,” Draco whispers, his hot breath tickling Harry’s ear. 

“Congratulations on what?” Harry asks just as quietly. He leans in, watches Draco’s lashes flutter dark against his opalescent skin. 

“Having the hottest boyfriend ever, of course,” Draco says flippantly. He shifts backing up slightly to shimmy off his tailored suit jacket. 

“Obviously,” Harry chuckles. He takes the cloth from Draco’s hands and settles in gently on the coat rack. 

Draco crowds back into his space. His hand falls to Harry’s solar plexus pushing him back against the wall. 

When their eyes meet Harry’s breath catches. When their lips meet his chest relaxes all at once in a muffled gasp. Harry likes the idea that Draco’s body has become his breath, that with every rise and fall of his lungs Draco’s pulse will beat faster. 

He thinks he could stand here forever, the hard wall digging into his back, his body cradled in the careful warmth of Draco’s arms.

He sags against the side of the bed and runs his fingers delicately over his temples in an attempt to soothe the splitting ache. The hangings in the room look different then he remembers. He kicks a book across the floor and watches it land in a puff of dust.

Sirius walked out of this room for the last time with a single backpack of clothes.

Regulus knows because he’d been there. He’d watched as Sirius stepped past him out of the hallway, his face carefully blank. That’s when the feeling had taken root, twisting in his gut and putting out tendrils. Regulus thinks some might call it jealousy but, couldn’t he also call it faith? To believe that there was a better ending out there for him somewhere?

“I did it,” Regulus says softly. There’s something blooming in his chest that he hasn’t felt in years. “I did it,” Regulus repeats louder. He can feel tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. He blinks them back and straightens up. If he knows anything it’s that this isn’t where it ends.

from my wip: when you go (leave your shadow behind) 

Read More Here 

“Well, you’ve changed,” Harry says simply, he pauses for a second and then flinches slightly as if hit with a sudden thought. “You know, he might not forgive you for leaving Lily. You need to be prepared for that.”

His words hit Regulus like a punch to the gut. Of course James won’t forgive him. He’s always had the privilege of hope, the ability to circumvent regret. And it’s not fair because undoubtedly he’ll fail to recognize the bigger picture. He’ll refuse to believe that everyone he loves is predestined for death. He’ll think that if he can just try harder, and do better, and give more, he’ll receive the happy ending he deserves. It makes Regulus’s blood boil.

“You’re right,” Regulus clenches his jaw.

“So wherever you take him will need to have anti-aperation wards,” Harry tells him calmly, “And you’ll need to take his wand away.”

“You’re not against this?” Regulus asks him, surprised, “You just told me that your dad will hate me for what I’m about to attempt and you’re still telling me to do it?”

“Regulus,” Harry says softly, “I’d rather have one parent someday than no parents at all.” He coughs but it doesn’t cover the crack in his voice, “If things get bad remind him about me. Tell him I need him.”

Continue reading here

what a shame

Pairing: Regulus Black x James Potter  Rating: Mature  Length: 2.4K words  This is a songfic inspired by the song what a shame by Lizzy McAlpine :)  Read on AO3

All Regulus can focus on is James’s bowed head, dark bar falling into his eyes, chest pressed against the bar in front of him. The soft slope of his nose and the gentle curve of his jaw. He licks his lips and Regulus tastes honey in the back of his throat. 

His breath is frozen in his chest. He can’t remember how many times he’s hoped for this. Longed for James to come back to him, even as a shadow, even as a dream. 

James pulls his beer closer to him. Regulus watches as his lips part gently over the top of the bottle and he tips his head back closing his eyes tight. 

It’s a sucker punch to the stomach. James. Here. Because Regulus knows that James could have loved him if he let himself. If he could just get past his mistakes, if he could just get past — 

“Excuse me,” Someone grunts behind him and Regulus spins on them in an instant, hand reaching frantically for his wand. 

“Sorry lad, you’re in the doorway,” The man says gently brushing past him into the bar. 

Regulus feels a lump bloom in his throat. This is what the war has made him into. He is a weapon and he is so so tired. He wants someone to tell him what to do. To tell him how to stop the fighting and the deaths and the never ending blood pooling in his palms. 

James leans forward in his seat. Regulus watches the muscles in his shoulders clench and release under the thin fabric of his dark blue shirt. 

He can’t decide if he should stay or if he should go. His hands start to sweat. It’s hard to breathe against the iron pressure of his ribs. 

He should go. 

But then James turns his head and Regulus’s heart jolts in his chest like he’s just been electrocuted. 

“Regulus,” James says quietly. His voice comes out cracked and an octave too deep. He swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing gently under the fragile skin of his neck. His eyes dart around frantically, looking anywhere but Regulus’s face. 

“James,” Regulus breathes back. He doesn’t believe in god but the name feels like a prayer on his lips. 

James doesn’t respond. He sits now with his back pressed to the bar, his eyes burn gold as they catch in the light. 

“James,” Regulus repeats, a little louder this time, “What —“ He pauses, taking a step forward, “Are you okay?” 

James still doesn’t respond. He bows his shoulders, sinking into himself like he wishes he could disappear. He raises the beer for another sip and it shakes in his hand. Still his eyes don’t leave Regulus’s body. 

So Regulus moves forward again. This time he doesn’t stop until he’s right in front of James. 

James stares at him for a moment, frozen in position like a rabbit caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck, bracing for an inevitable crash, before shakily leaning back against the wooden bar and glancing up to meet Regulus’s eyes with his own. 

Regulus can’t look away from him. James is watching him searchingly, wonder in his warm eyes, beautiful, even red rimmed and desperate. 

Regulus wants to take him home. He wants to grab Jame’s face and press their lips together so gently that James will forget his own name, will forget the war, will forget every time he’s pulled his hand away from Regulus’s empty palm. 

He wants to take him to bed. He wants James so bad he bites down on his tongue until he tastes metal. He wants to crawl inside his body and pry his way under his ribcage, fingers cradling his heart. He wants to hear it beat against him forever. Safe. 

Regulus wants to touch him so bad his hands shake. 

Instead he shifts slightly to the left and slides onto the barstool beside James and shoves his hands deep into his pockets to stop himself from doing something he might regret. 

He orders his drink on autopilot. Every atom in his body is focused on the man beside him. He hadn’t noticed before but James still smells the same, like cedar and smoke and too many memories. 

“Regulus,” This time James says his name sweeter, warmer, like something Regulus wants to take a bite out of, “It’s really you.” 

“It is,” Regulus says softly, taking a large sip from his glass. Whisky burns warm down his throat. 

“Are you okay?” He repeats his question. 

James shakes his head and swallows hard looking down at his palms. He squeezes his eyes shut and when he opens again there are tears clinging to his lashes. 

“Fuck,” He exhales roughly.  Regulus tracks the movement of his hand as it reaches up to wipe them away. 

“Is there anything I can do?” Regulus asks not quite gently but something close. Gentle-adjacent which Regulus hopes James will understand to mean that he can see him struggling but can tell it might hurt even more to talk about it. 

When James stays quiet Regulus reaches out rubbing a hand in soft circles over his back. 

“I’m here,” He says carefully. Two words, a million mirrors of their past. All the times he found James crouched in dark corridors, tears wet on his face, “At least for now.” 

And then suddenly in the next breath, James is sobbing. Great, heaving sobs that wrack his entire body. The scary part is they're nearly silent. All Regulus can hear is his ragged breath, against the distant murmur of the pub around them. 

“It’s okay,” Regulus says softly, “This is okay.” 

And James leans into him, turns his face to the exposed skin of Regulus’s neck and gives in to his tears. 

Regulus can’t take his mind off of him. He focuses on the contour of his body, the press of his elbow and his hip. The softness of his shoulders. The dip of his waist. He doesn’t know what he did to deserve this. James here, touching him, one last time. 

“I can’t do it,” James murmurs against his skin. The brush of his lips feels electric. 

“What can’t you do?” Regulus whispers into his soft curls. 

“Any of it,” James’s voice cracks, “It’s too hard and everyone is dying and when I look around I can’t see anything but blood.” 

His words cut straight to Regulus’s core. He holds James close, rocking him slowly. 

“I can’t stop it,” James says breath hitching when he tries to get words out, “I can’t – I’m not good –” 

“Being good isn’t easy, you know,” Regulus says delicately, “That’s not what good is.” 

He thinks about the locket, about the cave waiting for him. An ache builds in the back of his throat

“It just doesn’t feel right,” James pulls away a bit looking up at him. His lip trembles and Regulus watches as he blinks new, hot tears, “This isn’t how it was supposed to be.” 

“Yeah,” Regulus admits, voice heavy. 

They sit in silence. Regulus feels James' body heat against him down to his bone marrow. He lets out a hot sigh against his neck and it gives Regulus goosebumps. He stares at the floor and tries desperately to reel back the roiling ache that has begun to crest in his chest. 

“I–” He starts, coughing to cover the crack in his voice, “I shouldn’t tell you this.” 

“What?” James asks, voice all sorrow and depth, so much so that it sends a spark right through Regulus’s core. 

“I’m going to do something,” Regulus pauses, trying to focus over the rabid beat of his heart, “To fix this. To change the war.” 

James looks up at him, his eyes wide and frantic. Regulus’s throat feels like it might close up. He takes a deep breath trying to focus on the way his ribcage expands against James’s body. 

“I can’t say any more,” Regulus tells him, “I just wanted –” 

But James doesn’t let him finish. Instead he wraps a warm palm around the back of Regulus’s neck and pulls him down. 

It happens because it has to. At least, that's the way it feels – like when Regulus walked into the pub tonight he’d started something inevitable, something so powerful there’s no point in fighting it. When James kisses him Regulus’s lips are already parted. 

They kiss soft and gentle. As if they have all the time in the world. All open mouths and tongues sliding together, the bitter taste of whiskey and Regulus sliding his eyes shut as James’s fingers stretch up tugging at his curls. 

James pulls away first. 

Regulus tracks his gaze over his face, pupils blown sky-wide, lips parted. There’s something in James’s brown eyes that sticks somewhere deep inside of him. 

Without speaking James reaches out and grasps Regulus’s hand in his. Before Regulus can sort through his racing thoughts James is pulling him up, tugging him out the back door of the pub, into the alleyway. 

James just kissed him, he thinks numbly, stumbling on the cobblestones. James just kissed him. 

Suddenly James stops walking and Regulus bumps into him. James turns to face him and then they’re standing only a few inches apart. Regulus watches as James’s chest heaves, as he sucks the cold air through his full lips.

They don’t talk. Instead, their bodies move in again, like they’re pulled by magnets. Regulus keeps his eyes open this time, watches the reflection of the lamplight in James' dark irises. 

He has tears in his eyes, Regulus thinks. He has lighting in his palms. 

This time when James kisses him it feels like they’re on the edge of a cliff, with a strong wind blowing, each gust pushing them closer to the edge. 

Regulus lets James push his hands up and under his coat, against his back. His fingers are cold and he gasps as they dip once, twice below the band of his pants, sending sparks through his body. James shifts, pulling Regulus forward until he’s leaning back against the brick wall with Regulus flush against him, until Regulus has one thigh between James’ legs. 

James moans softly as he presses closer so Regulus kisses down his throat sucking hard below his jaw. James’ fingers tighten in his hair and his other hand comes to Regulus's neck. His thumb brushing over Regulus’s collarbones, over his windpipe.  Regulus groans, pressing in harder, his mind a scrambled pool of half formed thoughts. He wants everything james will give him, he wants, he want, he wants – 

Before he knows it he’s on his knees. The cobblestone presses sharp into his kneecaps hard enough to leave bruises 

“Look at me,” James’ voice is low, a strain on his words. He tangles his hands through Regulus’s curls and tugs his head back sharply. 

Regulus lets out a gasp as James towers over him. The sight of him is fathomless, all consuming. He tracks his eyes over James’ flushed cheeks and dark eyes and he can’t wait to make him fall apart. 

Regulus moves his hands forward cupping James hips. A breath punches out of James’ chest in a ragged gasp and he presses forward letting Regulus’ lips ghost over the rough fabric of his pants. Swiftly Reaches up, fumbling for a second with the clasp of James’ muggle jeans. 

Regulus can’t think, he’s lost in James’ smell, in the taste of his lips, in the sharp edges of his fingertips as they dig into his scalp. Finally Regulus gets the clasp open and pulls the fabric away to press a kiss to James’s delicate tan skin. 

He’s licking a strip across James’s abdomen when he pushes him away. 

He’s breathing like he’s run a mile. His hair curling over his forehead and Regulus feels his body twitch with the urge to get up and brush it back out of his face. James stares at him and Regulus feels shaky, sick to his stomach, uncertain in a way he hasn’t felt since he first walked in and saw James sitting at the bar. 

“Fuck,” James says roughly, hitting the wall behind him with his fist. 

Regulus wants to say something. He wants to tell him – what? To come back? That he won’t tell anyone? It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters because he’s on his knees in an alleyway and James Potter is pushing him away. 

James looks at the ground, his hands loose at his sides, his jaw tight. 

Right, Regulus has the sudden urge to laugh hysterically.  How could he have thought this would end any other way? This is how it goes. This is how it has always been. He pushes himself to his feet and they stand across from each other in silence. 

“I’m sorry,” James’ voice shakes, “Fuck, Reggie. I’m so so sorry.” 

Regulus takes one deep breath, then another. He swallows the lump in his throat. 

“I –,” James breaks off, a tear spills from his eyes and tracks down his cheek, “I want this, I want you. But I can’t –” his voice breaks, “I can’t do this. It’s too late. It’s too late and I wish it wasn’t.” 

“It’s okay,” Regulus says, and he hates himself. Hates himself for letting this happen. Hates himself for telling James Potter that it’s okay that he’s breaking his heart. 

“It’s not,” James says, “It’s not, and you don’t deserve this. I’m no good Reggie. I can’t do anything right –” He sags back against the brick wall as he dissolves into tears. 

“I get it,” Regulus steps back. His whole body feels numb. 

“You don’t,” James’s voice is wrecked, husky with sorrow at every syllable, “Regulus, Lily’s pregnant,” He pauses, wiping tears from his cheek, “It’s mine.” 

Regulus flinches back, his eyes blown wide, he doesn’t bother to conceal the shock on his face. 

“What the fuck James. That would have been a good thing to know half an hour ago,” He spits, his stomach a writhing pit of anger and sorrow. “Are you with her?” 

“I don’t know,” James murmurs, not making eye contact, “It’s complicated.” His voice is faint, small in a way that Regulus has never heard before. 

“James. Fuck. You never should have touched me.” Regulus is seconds away from breaking down; he can feel the tears build behind his eyes. 

“I know,” James’ tone is pleading now, “I’m sorry Reggie. I can’t tell you how sorry I am.” 

Regulus doesn’t know what to say. He watches in silence as James pushes himself up off the wall. 

“I’m sorry,” James repeats brokenly, “I’ll go.” 

Regulus almost stops him. Almost. 

Instead, he watches James walk slowly down the alley, his shoulders hunched, his silhouette fragile against the bright street lamps. 

All the almost’s they’ve ever had shimmer in the air between them. 

Regulus wants to remember, wants to forget all at the same time. 

Delicate

Okay, I was listening to a version of Delicate by Taylor Swift I hadn't heard before and scrolling through past microfic prompts when I saw that "Delicate" was a past prompt!! So here we go, for @drarrymicrofic. Drarry secret relationship!!

Stolen glances from across the common room, brushing hands as they pass in the hallway, inside jokes snuck into mundane group conversations with oblivious outsiders.

"This is better than nothing," they whisper in the dark. Promising each other, themselves, that it will actually be better one day. Promising a future when they can't predict the next hour. Promising that it's real, that they're alive and can't lose what the others can't see.

It's precarious. Harry and Draco sit on a precipice, not knowing whether they'll fly or fall.

But they'll hold hands on the way down.

Boundless

After the war, time was complicated. Harry struggled to hang onto days, hours lost to him even as they happened. But seconds? 

Seconds were measured in grief: Sirius falling through the veil, Hedwig falling from the clouds, Dumbledore falling to the ground, and children falling falling falling on the battlefield. 

Time (life) ephemeral, gone in the blink of an eye, a bubble bursting at your fingertip, sand sifting through your hands. 

Harry—dead and back at 17—saw years laid out before him and just couldn’t. Thousands, millions, billions of seconds, endless anguish. 

It wasn’t until Draco—gentle, resilient, alive—grabbed his face, and said, “Breathe with me, see? In and out. In and out.” Seconds quickly measured in lungfuls of air, in Draco’s steady pulse, in survival. 

And one day, seconds are measured in love: Hermione making tea, Ron’s laughter echoing throughout their flat, Molly hugging him close, and Draco touching holding kissing Harry.

Hours, days, months gone in the blink of an eye, a bubble bursting at your fingertip, sand sifting through your hands. 

Harry—living and in love at 27—sees years laid out before him and just smiles. Thousands, millions, billions of seconds, endless joy. 

For the @drarrymicrofic prompt: soap bubbles. As always, thank you to my absolute best dude @lou-isfake. This one got away from me a bit, and word counts aren’t real. 

Previous microfics. 

For the @drarrymicrofic prompt: Good for You by Darlingside 

Draco stands at the summit of the mountain and looks out across the bright rolling hills. He can feel the heaviness of Harry missing him. It’s always there, in the slight pressure just above his sternum, the tight squeeze of his ribs. 

Sometimes he feels content, almost happy, here in America and then it hits him all over again. Something about his happiness makes sadness’s edge even sharper. 

He turns and starts to climb down towards the grass below. The rocky path under his feet is steep and perilous, demands his focus. He’s grateful for it. It keeps him from thinking about Harry’s face when he’d left him, green eyes blown wide and desperate, begging him to stay. 

Draco breathes in deeply, lets the frigid mountain air burn across his lungs. Four more months he reminds himself, just 121 more days to rebuild, repair, return better. 

He wipes his sleeve hurriedly across his face and it comes away wet.

All the unicorn plushie's

Dialogue prompt 14: "if i die, I'm haunting you first" || Fluff || Domwstic || Humour.

"Did you find it?" Harry asked disheveled emerging out from the attic.

Draco looked up from behind the couch, he too looking haphazard and shook his head, "not here."

"Where could it possibly be? I thought you had cleaned up." Harry exhaustedly said and bent down to look under the couch as well, finding Draco looking through from the other end.

Draco sat upright and groaned, “Well maybe if I wasn’t the only one cleaning the mess then I would’ve remembered where have I kept it.” 

“Hey, don’t play that card on me. We share work alright,” Harry pointed a finger at him, accusingly. 

“Yeah, Yeah- We need to find it before she comes back.” Draco said defeated and they resumed their search. 

After an hour of searching and miserably failing, Draco collapsed on the couch in the living room, his limbs sprawled outwards while Harry walked into the living room equally tired. 

“For the last time, not there.” Harry said and sat down next to Draco, taking his feet upon his lap and slowly rubbed it with his hands to relieve some tension off him. 

“This is all your fault Harry. If she kills me and If I die, I’m haunting you first.” Draco mumbled, then sighed in relief as he felt Harry pressing the pressure point. 

“My fault? I looked through the entire house with you, even though clearly it was you who lost it, how is it my fault?” 

“Well for starters, you wanted to take me out on a date and that’s where the root of every problem begun,” Draco titled his head towards Harry. 

“Oh yeah and who came onto who? You practically died when I wasn’t able to take you out a second time.” Harry replied with his eyebrows raised. 

“Second times doesn’t really matter,” 

“Fine, if that’s what it is, I’ll leave you. Maybe that’ll solve your problems,” Harry shrugged, teasing him, “I’ll pack my bags and leave.”

Draco rolled his eyes next to him, “You sound like Lily whenever she’s throwing a fit.” 

“Like father like daughter.” Harry shrugged, cutely. 

“Oh she most definitely is your daughter. She even gets those atrocious hair from you. It takes me like 15 minutes to tie her hair every morning.” Draco rolled his eyes.

Harry swatted Draco’s feet softly, “Hey, that’s mean. She’s got gorgeous hair.” 

Draco raised an eyebrow at Harry, challenging in a way to say ‘who are you kidding’ without actually saying it. 

“Yeah, okay, Its like a bird nest but that’s our bird nest, alright.” Harry pointed. 

Draco was too tired to smile but every time Harry says something as ‘Ours’, his heart swells ten times its size and his emotions overflow his glass of emotions. 

“Our menace of a bird nest.” Draco smiled fondly. 

Harry smiled back and continued massaging Draco’s feet. 

“How are we going to tell her?” Harry asked after a while. 

“We would need to rip off the bandage. There’s no other way. She’ll cry, throw a fit maybe, dramatically say i’m leaving the house, maybe even throw pillows at us but then she'll be fine. We'll tell her we'll buy her a new one."

"Do you think it'll work?" Draco asked.

Harry shook his head, "A hundred percent not."

Draco rubbed his hand over his face in exhaustion, "Why is she like this?"

"Because she's like us. She gets the Drama from you, and basically the attitude from you and me both. We did a very good job raising a child." Harry stifled a laugh.

Draco's face was still in his hands when Harry pulled his hands away from his face and softly grazed his cheeks with his own hands.

"It'll be fine. She'll be fine." He reassured.

"She's gonna hate us."

Harry knew this was past the level of joke and mockery, it was more serious than before and he couldn't help but straddling Draco so he could be closer to him and could look him in the eyes.

"Look at me,-- Dray, look at me,"

And he did.

"She's our kid and I shouldn't say this but she's the best kid out there, alright and it's because we raised her that way, our friend's helped us raise her that way, your parents helped in raising her too. There's not one person out there who I know is half as understanding as her in her age group. She's so phenomenal that I doubt if she is even our child but she so is and I think we're doing a really great job raising her the way we are. She doesn't hate us, alright. She can never hate us. She loves us so much that she have destroyed every corner of the house walls with drawings of all of us together and that doesn't say she hates us, infact it's the opposite, so pull yourself together and be prepared for her wraith-"

Draco swatted him in the end, laughing as well but then embraced Harry in a hug.

"We're good parents." He agreed and Harry hummed.

"Come on, we need to prepare our lie." Harry said as he pulled himself up from Draco's lap and stood before him.

"You'll lie to her-"

"Why me? You lost it-"

"Yes but she clearly loves you more--"

"That is absolutely no excuse. She loves us equally." Harry narrowed his eyes at Draco.

"She just said last night, she loves you 3000 and she loves me 2000. That's a 1000 more." Draco shrugged suggestively.

"Oh that's bullshit Malfoy- Potter. We'll do it together, alright. Deal?"

"Deal."

And just then the bell rung and the door swung open with Lily running inside with her bag and Ron following up behind her, yelling for something as well.

Harry and Draco pulled by each other's side and waited for Lily to run to them, because she was going to.

"How was the day for my darling?" Harry asked as he kneeled on the ground, opening his arms for her.

"It was-"

"Daddy have something to tell you. Harry-"

Harry narrowed his eyes at Draco. He'll deal with his deal breaker of a husband later.

"Honey you were saying!?" Harry asked, picking her up in his arms.

"It was wonderful. Uncle Ron did a great job at being my tea party member. He even got a gold star from me." Lily replied enthusiastically.

Ron sighed from the corner and showed his wrist.

"That's the highest ovation Ron. Even Draco doesn't have a gold star yet." Harry told him.

Ron nodded and was helped by Draco to unpack Lily's things.

"Okay honey- We- I mean I want to tell you something,"

"Okay." She said with her big doe eyes staring right into Harry's soul.

"You know your Unicorn plushie. The one you love so much- well- we-"

"We were planning of getting one for each of us." Draco cut him off, holding the unicorn plushie in his hands, a look of relief swarming his face.

Draco walked towards Harry and took her in his arms and said, "We'll each get one and then we'll have a unicorn fight-" he said tickling her, making her giggle.

Harry breathed deeply, he too relieved and watched Lily giggling in Draco's arms.

And then he joined them as well, tickling Lily along with Draco.

"Now you know how it feels when you tickle Daddy in the morning-"

"But it's always Papa's idea." Lily continued laughing.

"Oh is it?" Harry asked looking at Draco, who now had stopped tickling Lily and was planning his master escape.

He put her down on the ground and nervously smiled at Harry.

"Lily- Run-" he screamed just then Harry started running behind them in the entire house, chasing them. And at some point, Ron got involved as well, running for his dear life.

And that was just a typical Sunday in the Malfoy- Potter household.

MASTERLIST / REQUESTS OPEN

Tagging people for reaches, kindly ignore if you want <3

@drarrywords @silver-de-vonne @phoebe-delia @chinike @wheezykat @elenaxoxo22 @thecornerofbelu @nv-md @upon-poppyhills @littlebodybigheartttt @lilthislilthat @cissa-bee @cluelesspigeons @nin0tchka @draco-and-harry-malfoy-pottah @harryandginnydeservesbetter @draco-lucious-potter @briankinneysimp @ravena-wrote @textrovert-01

Prompt 2 - Night

June 2nd

@jegulus-microfic

word count: 541

no warnings apply

Summer nights smelled of over-bloomed linden flowers. The humidity created a green scent of vegetation. Regulus often sat on the porch, just taking it in, even though the pleasant, sweet scent was intertwined with the smell of nicotine.

He used to do this alone. In the past, he snuck up to the attic and smoked by the small window that neither allowed for the smell of linden to get in, nor for him to see the sky. Still, it was a moment of peace in the usually chaotic home. Of course, it had been more quiet ever since Sirius left, but…

Now, everything was different. Now, he could imagine their home was entirely quiet. Neither him nor Sirius were there to cause a ruckus anymore. No fighting. No screaming. Only silence.

On his end, the vast porch overlooking the quiet suburban street certainly was better than the tiny window in the attic. It was quiet here too, but not for the same reason as in his old home. The Potters’ house was, coincidentally, full. But it was still quaint. No fighting. No screaming. Only serenity.

Another difference? While, before, he was alone in the attic, here, on the Potters’ porch, he had company. Usually, James let him have some time for himself before inevitably seeking him out.

Regulus heard him approach, but he didn’t move. He knew what would happen next. James’s arms around his shoulders, hugging him from behind. Regulus melted into the touch.

“Doing okay?” James asked, turning his head to press a kiss to Regulus’s cheek.

Regulus nodded.

“No bad thoughts?”

Regulus shook his head.

“Good.” James kissed his hair.

He let go of Regulus, only to be able to sit beside him, at which point he hugged him once more. Regulus rested his head on James’s shoulder.

A light breeze swept across the street. The leaves above shimmered in the wind, the grass danced in the gust, and Regulus was washed over with that familiar scent.

His eyes welled up. He attempted to hide his face by snuggling James, but nothing went past him, especially not Regulus being upset.

“Hey, hey, hey.” James gently tipped Regulus’s chin up. “What is it?”

Regulus struggled to find the words. His eyes glistened, a single tear slid down his cheek, promptly wiped away by James’s gentle thumb.

“I feel… safe. Here. With you,” he managed to say. Those words could hardly encompass his true feelings, but he wanted to try. He wanted James to know.

James’s gaze softened. He leaned in and kissed Regulus’s nose. “I’m glad you do, love.”

“I’m happy,” Regulus choked on the words. It was difficult to say. “I never thought I would be. I used to think I didn’t stand a chance. You’ve given me that chance. You’ve helped me reunite with the only family that ever cared for me. And you… you’ve found me. I am so thankful, Jamie, I couldn’t ever say.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” James said. “You will never have to thank me. I love you.”

A stifled sob escaped Regulus’s lips.

“I love you.” James kissed him. He alternated between declarations of love and tender kisses. And Regulus cried. James kissed his tears away while Regulus simply cried.

@regulily-microfic • july 13: time • 824 words

cross-posted on ao3

Regulus fiddles with the Lego in his hand, staring fixedly at the half-finished Millennium Falcon on the coffee table, illuminated only by the fairy lights Lily brought with her when she moved in. His eyes droop, anxiety pressing in on the outskirts of his mind and keeping desperately needed sleep away. The ungodly early time blinks at him from the oven display, taunting Regulus from the kitchen.

He wishes he could sleep, he really does. He just can’t stop thinking. So much is happening tomorrow, so many things will change—

“Love?”

Regulus blinks. Lily is standing in the hall entrance, the throw from their bed wrapped around her shoulders. Her hair is sleep-mussed, auburn curls frizzy where they frame her face. She rubs at her eye, suppressing a yawn.

“Did I wake you?” Regulus sets the Lego down with a click against the wood, his voice nearly a whisper. “I’m sorry, you should go back to bed—”

Lily shuffles over to the coffee table, plopping down on the floor next to him and nudging him with her shoulder. “No, shut up. I’m awake now.”

“Lily…”

She ignores him, blinking quickly to rid the sleep from her eyes. “So, what step are we on?”

Regulus sighs in defeat and hands her the pamphlet with the instructions, and they get to work, slowly piecing together the Millennium Falcon shoulder to shoulder like a well-oiled machine.

This isn’t new. They’ve done this many nights, have been doing this for years. It started when he was sixteen. Those first few months after Lily and her parents took him in following his transphobic mother’s disownment, he could barely sleep. More often than not, he’d wake in a cold sweat with tears in his eyes, memories and nightmares alike haunting him. It was Lily’s dad who started buying him Legos. ‘Something to keep your mind busy,’ he had said.

And Ciarán Evans is a brilliant, brilliant man, because it worked. The tedium and concentration keeps his mind occupied and hands busy, letting him build and build until finally, he can sleep. Lily helps, too. She insists on joining him on nights like this, keeping him company while she helps him work on whichever new set he’s started. He has fewer nightmares now, seven years later, but whenever he does, well. He has his Legos, and he has his Lily.

She’s quiet where she sits next to him, sticking two grey bricks together with a soft click. She hasn’t spoken a word, hasn’t even acknowledged the fact that Regulus should be in bed, tonight most especially. He’s having surgery tomorrow for Christ’s sake, she should be reprimanding him. He knows that she won’t. Lily always waits until he breaks the silence, lets him decide whether he wants to at all. Regulus loves her even more for it.

A beat. Maybe two. “I don’t know why I’m scared.”

Lily hums in acknowledgment, eyes still glued on the model before them. Regulus sighs shakily and sets down the pieces in his hands. “I’ve wanted top surgery forever, you know? I need it, really. I just…”

“Maybe that’s why you’re scared,” Lily offers. “Maybe you’re scared of the possibility that something will change in a bad way, that this magical idea you have of how everything will go won’t happen.”

He swallows, drumming his fingers on the table. “Maybe. I just feel stupid.”

“Regulus,” she says, finally turning to look at him. Her eyes are bright and determined, and his breath catches at the sight. “You’ve never done well with change, you’re not stupid.”

“I know, but—”

“Nope, no buts. Do you really think I wouldn’t tell you if you were being stupid? Because I love you, but I would.”

Regulus huffs a laugh, leaning his head on her shoulder. “I know you would. S’why I love you so much.”

“Regulus Black being sappy? The world must have ended.”

“Oh, fuck off,” he says, nudging his girlfriend’s shoulder with his own. She chuckles, reaching up to run her fingers through his hair. Regulus sighs softly, eyes fluttering shut.

Lily presses a little kiss to the top of his head. “Think you can sleep now?”

“Mm, yeah, probably.”

“Good.” She sits up, disrupting their impromptu cuddle. “Because you need to sleep. You have surgery tomorrow at ten, and look at the time—”

“I was wondering when you would go mother hen on me,” he says with a small smile, and Lily rolls her eyes fondly.

“Worrying for your health is not mother henning.”

“Of course, dear.”

She scoffs lightly and stands, offering her hand to Regulus and pulling him to his feet. Before he can do anything else, Lily tugs him into a tight hug, a hand cupping the back of his neck and pulling him close. He buries his face in her hair, eyes fluttering shut.

Lily kisses him on the head again. “I love you.”

“I love you too, despite your mother henning.”

dance. 108 words. fluff.

Take my hand.

Remus laughed. Brightly, softly, in a way that he couldn't quite describe, like the universe captured every good thing and fit it into that one sound.

"You can't dance? Really?" He teased, leading Regulus out to the balcony. What was this song? Elvis Presley? "I thought you were an aristocrat, Reg."

Take my whole life too.

He spun around. Once, then twice. It was wonderful. Magnificent.

Regulus rolled his eyes. "I never needed to," he said, and he was pressed against the other boy, moving in slow circles.

But I can't help,

Remus smiled. "Dance with me, then."

Falling in love with you.

Regulus did.

I Think We're Alone Now

First writing for this fandom and especially wolfstar! Fluff, mild angst, songfic Wordcount: 457

“Children, behave.”

Something Sirius and his gang had been told more than once. Not by Sirius’ mother, she would never have said it as softly as he heard from his friends’ parents. Back then, despite his family, he felt like he could rule the world just by being part of the Marauders alone.

“And watch how you play.”

Sirius wished he had. Wished he had made better decisions, known things sooner. Wished he hadn’t suspected the wrong person. He wished he had watched out better for signs of a frail, lacking-behind boy becoming who he was today.

“And so we’re running just as fast as we can.”

Oh, how they had run. Across the school ground, around the Quidditch field, the whomping willow and back. For no particular reason other than feeling the wind on their faces and the stinging in their lungs as they laughed, encouraging  Peter as he arrived way after them.

“Holding onto one another’s hand.”

He wished he hadn’t been too scared to. Too scared to hold Remus’s hand, too scared to kiss him or even tell him what he felt. The warm feeling whenever he looked into the other’s eyes, the pang of utter sadness as he lay in Sirius’ lap after a full moon.

“Trying to get away, into the night.”

How often he’d dreamed of breaking free. Twelve years of dreaming, of seeing the man he’d wrongfully blamed again. To embrace him tightly and never let go. He had wanted to kiss him, tell him everything, fall asleep with him.

“And then you put your arms around me and we tumble to the ground.”

After meeting again that fateful night. The situation was complex, feelings running high like a rollercoaster. Happiness, fear, anger, disgust. Oh, how his heart had  started beating the second Remus began joking and embraced him. And all those years seemed unimportant for a moment.

“I think we’re alone now.”

After their friendship had ended through death and betrayal, they were alone. No longer friends but lovers who danced slowly in the dim light of softly flickering flames. Kissing as though it was all they were born to do.

“There doesn’t seem to be anyone around.”

And there didn’t have to be. The two of them were enough, safe in the walls of 12 Grimmauld Place, with the whole night to spend together without worrying what tomorrow was going to bring should it come for them.

“The beating of our hearts is the only sound.”

When they fell asleep together. Calmed by the steady sound of the other’s heartbeat and breathing, a gentle reminder they were still alive. Traumatized, scared, stressed but alive and together. And they promised to stay that way until death do them part.