OH MY GODDDDDDDDD - Tumblr Posts
NEVET MIND I GOT IT EARLY !!! EVERYONE SHUT UP IM SCREMAING
I am quite literally counting down the minutes until midnight, and then I will have Goldfinch on my kindle
I am literally so ready
Mr July
Witch Weekly puts out a fundraising calendar every year, titled ‘Britain’s Hottest Wixen’. It’s tacky and overpriced and features an unreasonable number of Weasleys.
And Draco would know, because every single year, without fail, he buys at least twenty-seven copies.
For charity, of course.
It’s just a happy coincidence that Harry is always Mr July.
It’s also a happy coincidence that they invariably put Harry in tight trunks that do nothing to hide his, um, assets. So, although it’s March, the calendar in Draco’s office is open to July.
Draco’s willing to admit that Ginevra Weasley, Ms March herself, is objectively attractive. But he doesn’t fancy her nearly as much as Pansy does, and well…Harry James Potter in a tiny bathing suit is far more inspiring than girl-Weasley in a Quidditch kit.
Draco’s a bit too preoccupied drooling over Harry’s muscular thighs to hear the knock at his door, and once a head of messy curls peeks around the corner, Draco’s a bit too preoccupied by Harry’s presence to hide his drooling.
Or his calendar.
“Hey Draco, just wanted to see if…” Harry trails off as he peers over Draco’s shoulder, before pointing exactly where Draco does not want him to point. “What’s that?”
“Nothing,” Draco says, determinedly not looking at Harry or the wall—he’s staring five centimetres to the left of Harry’s right ear and pretending that his life is not spinning wildly out of control.
“It’s March.”
“I’m aware of the date.”
Harry’s lips twitch. “Are you aware it’s 2009?”
Fuck.
It’s certainly not Draco’s fault that 2004 features Harry in tight green trunks…and soaking wet as he pulls himself from a pool. He’s so bloody gorgeous it should be illegal and, after all, Draco is only a man—with eyes—who’s been in love with the ridiculous wanker for his entire life.
“My mistake,” Draco says coolly, praying for a rogue Dark Lord to put him out of his misery.
“I was going to ask you to lunch…but maybe dinner would be better?” Harry cocks his head, grinning with the oh-so-annoying dimple in his cheek that sends Draco’s heart racing. “Come to mine, around eight. I’ll make lasagne.”
“I—wait, what?”
“Here’s my Floo address. Bring wine, I’ve only got the cheap stuff.”
Harry presses a kiss to Draco’s cheek before bounding out the door.
Draco’s staring at the scrawl of Harry’s address, his brain making a pitiful attempt at catching up with whatever the hell just happened, when Harry leans around the door.
“And, just so you know,” Harry says with a wink, “I got to keep the trunks.”
For the very talented and very wonderful @mintamintathings. I took a few liberties with the word count and the prompt ‘what, this?’ because it’s a no-rule Thursday! I may have also initially misread the prompt and ended up here…but who knows for sure, certainly not me.
For my Somewhat Summer Drarry Drabbles.
Had a huge convo with a friend of mine about how our rpg might end... so here's a Daemon Prince Che'Moer. Don't ask…
Don’t know if this style fits something more serious, but I’m living out my childhood dream of making edgy Paramore edits so