My H/D LDWS round 3 drabbles, reposted at ridiculously long last
I had a lovely time writing in slythindor100's last round of H/D LDWS in August and September, and won this gorgeous banner by wincest_drarry, and then was swallowed up by real life before I managed to post the banner and repost my drabbles. (Code-wrestling not being my favorite thing to do.) I was reminded by the notice of the upcoming Round 4, which I'll be happily reading and voting on in a day or two.
art by wincest_drarry | banner by sassy_cissa
So here's what I wrote for round 3, with thanks to the mods sassy_cissa and vaysh11 (so well-run, and such fabulous prompts!) and other writers (met some terrific writers!) and readers/commenters/voters. The theme was Magical Items and Artefacts, and the drabbles run the gamut. There's wartime angst, sweet pre-slash by the seaside, snarky first seductions and established (or re-establishing) relationships. Drabbles are below cuts (and now you can also read them on AO3. Of course the boys belong to JK Rowling, and I get pleasure, not money, from them.
To my great delight, there are podfics of two of these by Vaysh, and of the complete set (or here on AO3) by sisi_rambles! Thank you so so much for this honor, o lovely and wondrous podficcers! It is so amazing to hear someone else read my work aloud.
There's also a fascinating remix of Week 2 "Hogwarts Reunion", The first of all pleasures (Until the Glass Begins to Fly Remix) by megyal, who took my little wisp of a drabble and spun it into something wondrous.
Week 1: Invisibility Cloak
Title: Uncloaked
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Word Count: 335
Damn it Potter, what are you doing here? I know you can do better - hell, you could hide in thin air for no other reason than to throw mud in my hair, send me screaming back to Snape to make a fool of myself, talking about seeing your head in Hogsmeade. Then there was 6th year on the train - when I still thought I was choosing glory, not just
gore. The broken nose I gave you, before I made you disappear under that slippery thing, should have warned me otherwise. I walked away not quite untouched - a little splash of you, red and sticky on my shoe, making my footprints bleed.
Back then I thought that once my father was out of Azkaban all would be well. Nothing is well. There’s slaughter by snakebite at the dinner table. And here you come stumbling in with Miss Too Smart for Her Own Good, and Weasley with his hair like a flare gone up to alert the world, and you think a puffy face is enough to hide you? At least you have the sense to be terrified, I can hear it in the way you breathe. You’ve got stubble on your chin and that chaos of hair is down to your shoulders, have you been living under hedges? You’d be better off back there, by far.
They’re not sure it’s you. Somehow they have doubts. As if anyone else would wear those hideous specs. So now they’re asking me. Damn you Potter.
All those years I never learned to ignore you. I’m going to try it now. Let’s pretend if I don’t see you, you can’t be seen. If I don’t meet your eyes, their green fire won’t burn me. If I don’t look, maybe you’ll get away. I mean go away.
“Draco, come here, look properly!” my father insists. “What do you think?”
“I don’t know,” I say, and walk away.
See, Potter? Now you try it. Away, can’t you? Find a way. Away.
Week 2: Mirror of Erised
Title: Hogwarts Reunion
Rating: R
Warnings: None
Word Count: 200
“I need to know what I want,” Harry said, and the room let him in. Fifteen years since he’d fled the Fiendfyre in this room, Draco’s arms clamped round his waist. Ten years since he’d last felt those arms around him; almost as long since he’d seen the man. Their affair had been fiery. Nothing since had matched it.
The mirror stood unharmed. In it, a younger Harry and Draco made love. A look of wonder and bliss passed over Draco’s face as he came; then he relaxed and pulled Harry’s head to his chest.
Harry’s cock throbbed. His eyes stung, and he shut them. “Harry?” Draco’s voice called softly. Harry turned blindly toward the voice, his arms outstretched, pulled Draco in and kissed him. Maybe he’d gone mad; maybe he’d fallen through the looking-glass; he didn’t care, the kiss was sweet as air to a drowning man.
He opened his eyes to a look of wonder on an older Draco’s face. Seeing Harry’s shock, Draco pulled back. “You were expecting someone else....”
“No.” Harry held tight. “Look there.”
“Hmm. Flattering mirror. See, we’re getting laugh lines, not frown lines.”
“Are we kissing?”
“Not quite - yet.”
Harry fixed that.
(Go here for The first of all pleasures (Until the Glass Begins to Fly Remix) by megyal.)
Week 3: Time-Turner
Title: Turning Toward the Morning
Rating: G
Warnings: None, but I need to credit Gordon Bok’s gorgeous song for the title.
Word Count: 350
“With your new partner,” the facilitator chirped, “discuss, ‘What would you do with a Time-Turner?’”
“Alter the career path that led to these ‘team-building’ sessions,” Malfoy groused.
Privately, Harry agreed. “Just answer.”
Malfoy considered. “Tell my teenaged father that Voldemort was a jumped-up half-blood loser who would drag his followers down with him?”
“Typical. Even opposing Voldemort, Malfoys are self-serving...”
“Pragmatic, Potter. And for better or worse, my father was influential. Without his support, Voldemort would’ve been weaker.”
And you’d have been off the hook. “So you’d appeal to your father’s bigotry.”
“I’d make the most effective use of a brief opportunity. Reforming my father’s character would take a bit longer. Or perhaps you know a spell to eradicate one’s past beliefs? It’s not so simple.”
“But your plan panders to prejudice.”
“True.” Malfoy looked tired. “Somewhere, people answer this question, ‘I’d take a different date to the Yule Ball.’ I need air. Shall we talk outside?”
Harry shrugged and stood. Malfoy took his arm and Apparated them to a tiny island, where they startled a puffin. Harry laughed.
Malfoy sat on a bluff. “Your turn, Potter. A chance to remake history. What would it be?”
Harry sat. “Tell my parents not to trust Peter Pettigrew. Expose Tom Riddle and clear Hagrid’s name. Tell my father not to be such an arrogant berk around Snape, when they were at school.”
“Snape,” Malfoy sighed.
Silence fell.
“Did Time-Turners even work?”
“Yeah, I used one. Third year, with Hermione. We saved Buckbeak and Sirius.” How elated he’d been. “But then Sirius died anyway.”
“People do,” Malfoy said gently.
“Yeah, but if I hadn’t...”
“Enough regrets.” Malfoy’s hand brushed his. “Just - listen to seabirds awhile.”
Malfoy lay back and Harry did too, looking straight up at blue sky. He flung an arm up to block the sun, but kept the other hand touching Malfoy’s, little fingers just grazing.
Salt air, sun-warmed skin, surf sounds and bird-cries.
Time, the turning of the planet they rested on.
Malfoy leaning up on one elbow, haloed by bright hair, grey eyes questioning, luminous.
Turning toward that light.
with Vaysh's lovely podfic
Week 4: Marauder's Map
Title: Map Kinks / Mischief Well Managed
Rating: PG -13
Warnings: map innuendo
Word Count: 200
Harry Potter had a map kink.
He was always stealing glances at one, muttering. And wherever Draco went, looking for a peaceful spot amidst the Hogwarts reconstruction, Potter turned up. Didn’t talk, just lurked.
Draco finally Accio’d the thing out of Potter’s hands. There were little dots scurrying about, labelled with people’s names. Intriguing.
Potter came running. “Mischief...”
“What mischief, Potter? When’s the last time you did anything for fun?”
They never hexed each other anymore, but surely teasing was allowed? Draco held the map behind his back. Potter lunged for it. They dodged back and forth. Potter circled both arms around Draco. For the sake of mischief, Draco kissed him.
Potter kissed back until Draco was in danger of going all sweet and soft, like a Chocolate Frog left in the sun.
Soon he lay beneath Potter, hero-snogged, sun-kissed. Delicious. Draco reached out lazily for the map. What! His name blocked out by Potter’s! Unacceptable. Draco rolled them over. Now he and his name were on top. Brilliant.
Could the map merge names? Put one inside another? Inquiring wizards want to know.
It could. Later, it did. (Draco Harry Potter Malfoy, Harry Draco Malfoy Potter.) But nobody was looking.
Week 5: Deluminator
Title: Lucky Star
Rating: G
Warnings: EWE; OC and mention of previous death of another OC; implausible-sounding but actually-used star names
Word Count: 450
“Harry Potter. Scarred it, saved it.”
Startled, Harry turned, but he was, as so often these days, alone. Too often, Hermione said. Maybe she was right, if he was hearing voices in his head.
“Got under it.” The voice came from the Deluminator Harry’d borrowed and forgotten.
Perhaps the Deluminator knew what he should do and where he needed to go. He certainly didn’t, anymore. He clicked it, watched a ball of light emerge, let that enter him, and Disapparated.
He found himself at the seaside, facing a small girl in a swimming costume. With her black hair, grey eyes, and imperious air, she could’ve been the little sister of a young Sirius Black
“Who are you?” she demanded.
“Harry Potter.”
“Why did you do that to my papa’s skin?”
“Do what…?” Turning, Harry saw a stunned-looking Draco Malfoy, dressed in swimming trunks, the towel over his shoulders not entirely hiding a scar across his chest.
“Er - I didn’t know that would happen.”
“You shouldn’t use a spell when you don’t know what it does,” the girl said severely.
“You’re right, and I’m sorry.”
“I was behaving rather badly myself at the time,” said Malfoy. “Have you finished chastising our guest, Booboo?”
“Did we invite him?” The girl looked puzzled.
“Would you care for a biscuit, Potter? Be my guest. Sorry we haven’t any tea.” Malfoy turned to the girl. “Satisfied?”
Harry nibbled his biscuit. “Booboo?”
“Name of a star, Eta Draconis, believe it or not.”
“It’s not my name!”
“You’re lucky we didn’t call you… Zubenelgenubi!” Malfoy poked her and she giggled.
Something clicked. Malfoy’s wife - Delphine? - had died giving birth to… “Mira Altair,” Harry said.
She beamed, gap-toothed. “It means ‘Amazing Flying One’. I’m going to play Quidditch someday. Do you like Quidditch?”
“He was a Seeker,” Malfoy said.
“Were you as good as my papa?”
“Well - we were pretty evenly matched, but my broom was faster.”
“It’s not polite to boast,” Mira informed him.
“He was being gracious, actually,” Draco said, “giving me an excuse for losing to him so often.”
Caught in Malfoy’s gaze, Harry forgot to reply.
“How did you know my name?” Mira asked.
“It’s written on a tapestry in my house, in gold thread.”
“Really? Can I see it?”
“Sure.”
“Now?” She bounced.
“Mira…”
“If your papa agrees. We can have some tea to go with the biscuits.”
Draco looked down at his daughter, who was tugging at him, then over at Harry. He nodded slowly. “Why was it you came here, Potter?”
“I heard… the light was good.”
“You’re an artist?”
Harry imagined trying to capture Malfoy’s quizzical smile, his daughter’s vivid face, the sparkling water. Why not?
He laughed. “Anything’s possible.”
and as another lovely podfic by Vaysh
Week 6: Hand of Glory
Title: Outstretched, Alive
Rating: PG-13 for dark themes
Warnings: canonical angst
Word Count: 150
The first hand Draco wanted was Harry Potter’s - just to shake in friendship. But Draco couldn’t share a friend with a Weasley, and Potter had no taste.
Snape claimed they might learn to brew glory. Draco brewed his best, but glory never came.
When Draco first saw the Hand of Glory, it seemed Darkly cool, macabre, powerful. By the time he needed it, gruesome things held no appeal, but he saw no other way. So Draco clutched a dead man’s shriveled hand, and led Death Eaters through Hogwarts by its sickening glow.
For his family’s survival, he threatened his Headmaster. Dumbledore offered another way, too late for either of them.
The next year brought such Darkness and death that Draco choked, as if those lifeless fingers strangled hope, and he couldn’t shake their grip.
Until the Fiendfyre’s terror, and the way out.
Potter, returning for him.
Harry’s hand, outstretched, alive.
Week 7: Quick-Quotes Quill
Title: Pen Porn
Rating: R
Warnings: See title.
Word Count: 210
“I agreed to an interview, Malfoy, but not with one of those lying Quick-Quotes Quills!”
“It won’t actually misquote you, Potter. It just colors the context, according to how it’s set when activated. There’s scurrilous innuendo, wit, neutrality, flattery, porn…”
“Porn, Malfoy?” Harry snorted. “What, ‘Harder, faster, ahhh, nngh, yes?’”
Malfoy drew the pen from his lips where he’d sucked the tip. “As you like.” He placed it upright on the parchment, where it began to write.
‘Porn,’ Potter purred. ‘Malfoy,’ he moaned. ‘What?’ he whispered, his gorgeous green eyes glazed with lust. ‘Harder! Faster! AHHH! NNGH! YES!’
Fucking dialogue tags. Harry turned beet-red. “Give it to me,” he said, reaching for the quill. “I’d better set it. Just suck the tip?”
‘GIVE IT TO ME!’ our handsome hero implored the sexy Slytherin. Flushed with arousal, the raven-haired wizard begged, ‘Just suck…’
“Make it stop,” Harry groaned.
“Perhaps we can distract it.” Malfoy took the feather, brushing it against Harry’s cheeks and lips.
Harry, hot, unbuttoned the top of his robes. Malfoy dipped the plume to tickle Harry’s collarbone.
Unbuttoning.
Stroking.
As the feather skimmed across Harry’s nipples, it stiffened, spurted ink, and drooped.
Malfoy said, “We’re off the record. Now, you wanted me to…”
“Ahhh…”
“…suck…”
“Nngh...”
“…something?”
“Yes.”
Week 8: Golden Snitch
Title: Quidditch for Lovers (Pillow Talk)
Rating: R
Warnings: none
Word Count: 100
“I’m still a good Seeker,” Harry murmured. “Found you, didn’t I?”
“I’m the Golden Snitch?” Draco sounded amused.
You shine. “You played hard to get.”
“Alluring, yet elusive?”
You dart and sparkle.
Draco leaned over Harry, pressing slow kisses. “But once caught… we Snitches have… flesh memory.”
Harry wrapped around his lover, warm and alive.
“Really, you’re a Snidget.” Rare bird. Find sanctuary here.
It was Draco’s touch that burnt away Harry’s post-war fog. Clear skies now, flying weather.
Moving together, breathless. Wonder. Resurrection.
What Harry saw on Draco’s face, he felt in his core. When we’re close, we open.
art by wincest_drarry | banner by sassy_cissa
So here's what I wrote for round 3, with thanks to the mods sassy_cissa and vaysh11 (so well-run, and such fabulous prompts!) and other writers (met some terrific writers!) and readers/commenters/voters. The theme was Magical Items and Artefacts, and the drabbles run the gamut. There's wartime angst, sweet pre-slash by the seaside, snarky first seductions and established (or re-establishing) relationships. Drabbles are below cuts (and now you can also read them on AO3. Of course the boys belong to JK Rowling, and I get pleasure, not money, from them.
To my great delight, there are podfics of two of these by Vaysh, and of the complete set (or here on AO3) by sisi_rambles! Thank you so so much for this honor, o lovely and wondrous podficcers! It is so amazing to hear someone else read my work aloud.
There's also a fascinating remix of Week 2 "Hogwarts Reunion", The first of all pleasures (Until the Glass Begins to Fly Remix) by megyal, who took my little wisp of a drabble and spun it into something wondrous.
Week 1: Invisibility Cloak
Title: Uncloaked
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Word Count: 335
Damn it Potter, what are you doing here? I know you can do better - hell, you could hide in thin air for no other reason than to throw mud in my hair, send me screaming back to Snape to make a fool of myself, talking about seeing your head in Hogsmeade. Then there was 6th year on the train - when I still thought I was choosing glory, not just
gore. The broken nose I gave you, before I made you disappear under that slippery thing, should have warned me otherwise. I walked away not quite untouched - a little splash of you, red and sticky on my shoe, making my footprints bleed.
Back then I thought that once my father was out of Azkaban all would be well. Nothing is well. There’s slaughter by snakebite at the dinner table. And here you come stumbling in with Miss Too Smart for Her Own Good, and Weasley with his hair like a flare gone up to alert the world, and you think a puffy face is enough to hide you? At least you have the sense to be terrified, I can hear it in the way you breathe. You’ve got stubble on your chin and that chaos of hair is down to your shoulders, have you been living under hedges? You’d be better off back there, by far.
They’re not sure it’s you. Somehow they have doubts. As if anyone else would wear those hideous specs. So now they’re asking me. Damn you Potter.
All those years I never learned to ignore you. I’m going to try it now. Let’s pretend if I don’t see you, you can’t be seen. If I don’t meet your eyes, their green fire won’t burn me. If I don’t look, maybe you’ll get away. I mean go away.
“Draco, come here, look properly!” my father insists. “What do you think?”
“I don’t know,” I say, and walk away.
See, Potter? Now you try it. Away, can’t you? Find a way. Away.
Week 2: Mirror of Erised
Title: Hogwarts Reunion
Rating: R
Warnings: None
Word Count: 200
“I need to know what I want,” Harry said, and the room let him in. Fifteen years since he’d fled the Fiendfyre in this room, Draco’s arms clamped round his waist. Ten years since he’d last felt those arms around him; almost as long since he’d seen the man. Their affair had been fiery. Nothing since had matched it.
The mirror stood unharmed. In it, a younger Harry and Draco made love. A look of wonder and bliss passed over Draco’s face as he came; then he relaxed and pulled Harry’s head to his chest.
Harry’s cock throbbed. His eyes stung, and he shut them. “Harry?” Draco’s voice called softly. Harry turned blindly toward the voice, his arms outstretched, pulled Draco in and kissed him. Maybe he’d gone mad; maybe he’d fallen through the looking-glass; he didn’t care, the kiss was sweet as air to a drowning man.
He opened his eyes to a look of wonder on an older Draco’s face. Seeing Harry’s shock, Draco pulled back. “You were expecting someone else....”
“No.” Harry held tight. “Look there.”
“Hmm. Flattering mirror. See, we’re getting laugh lines, not frown lines.”
“Are we kissing?”
“Not quite - yet.”
Harry fixed that.
(Go here for The first of all pleasures (Until the Glass Begins to Fly Remix) by megyal.)
Week 3: Time-Turner
Title: Turning Toward the Morning
Rating: G
Warnings: None, but I need to credit Gordon Bok’s gorgeous song for the title.
Word Count: 350
“With your new partner,” the facilitator chirped, “discuss, ‘What would you do with a Time-Turner?’”
“Alter the career path that led to these ‘team-building’ sessions,” Malfoy groused.
Privately, Harry agreed. “Just answer.”
Malfoy considered. “Tell my teenaged father that Voldemort was a jumped-up half-blood loser who would drag his followers down with him?”
“Typical. Even opposing Voldemort, Malfoys are self-serving...”
“Pragmatic, Potter. And for better or worse, my father was influential. Without his support, Voldemort would’ve been weaker.”
And you’d have been off the hook. “So you’d appeal to your father’s bigotry.”
“I’d make the most effective use of a brief opportunity. Reforming my father’s character would take a bit longer. Or perhaps you know a spell to eradicate one’s past beliefs? It’s not so simple.”
“But your plan panders to prejudice.”
“True.” Malfoy looked tired. “Somewhere, people answer this question, ‘I’d take a different date to the Yule Ball.’ I need air. Shall we talk outside?”
Harry shrugged and stood. Malfoy took his arm and Apparated them to a tiny island, where they startled a puffin. Harry laughed.
Malfoy sat on a bluff. “Your turn, Potter. A chance to remake history. What would it be?”
Harry sat. “Tell my parents not to trust Peter Pettigrew. Expose Tom Riddle and clear Hagrid’s name. Tell my father not to be such an arrogant berk around Snape, when they were at school.”
“Snape,” Malfoy sighed.
Silence fell.
“Did Time-Turners even work?”
“Yeah, I used one. Third year, with Hermione. We saved Buckbeak and Sirius.” How elated he’d been. “But then Sirius died anyway.”
“People do,” Malfoy said gently.
“Yeah, but if I hadn’t...”
“Enough regrets.” Malfoy’s hand brushed his. “Just - listen to seabirds awhile.”
Malfoy lay back and Harry did too, looking straight up at blue sky. He flung an arm up to block the sun, but kept the other hand touching Malfoy’s, little fingers just grazing.
Salt air, sun-warmed skin, surf sounds and bird-cries.
Time, the turning of the planet they rested on.
Malfoy leaning up on one elbow, haloed by bright hair, grey eyes questioning, luminous.
Turning toward that light.
with Vaysh's lovely podfic
Week 4: Marauder's Map
Title: Map Kinks / Mischief Well Managed
Rating: PG -13
Warnings: map innuendo
Word Count: 200
Harry Potter had a map kink.
He was always stealing glances at one, muttering. And wherever Draco went, looking for a peaceful spot amidst the Hogwarts reconstruction, Potter turned up. Didn’t talk, just lurked.
Draco finally Accio’d the thing out of Potter’s hands. There were little dots scurrying about, labelled with people’s names. Intriguing.
Potter came running. “Mischief...”
“What mischief, Potter? When’s the last time you did anything for fun?”
They never hexed each other anymore, but surely teasing was allowed? Draco held the map behind his back. Potter lunged for it. They dodged back and forth. Potter circled both arms around Draco. For the sake of mischief, Draco kissed him.
Potter kissed back until Draco was in danger of going all sweet and soft, like a Chocolate Frog left in the sun.
Soon he lay beneath Potter, hero-snogged, sun-kissed. Delicious. Draco reached out lazily for the map. What! His name blocked out by Potter’s! Unacceptable. Draco rolled them over. Now he and his name were on top. Brilliant.
Could the map merge names? Put one inside another? Inquiring wizards want to know.
It could. Later, it did. (Draco Harry Potter Malfoy, Harry Draco Malfoy Potter.) But nobody was looking.
Week 5: Deluminator
Title: Lucky Star
Rating: G
Warnings: EWE; OC and mention of previous death of another OC; implausible-sounding but actually-used star names
Word Count: 450
“Harry Potter. Scarred it, saved it.”
Startled, Harry turned, but he was, as so often these days, alone. Too often, Hermione said. Maybe she was right, if he was hearing voices in his head.
“Got under it.” The voice came from the Deluminator Harry’d borrowed and forgotten.
Perhaps the Deluminator knew what he should do and where he needed to go. He certainly didn’t, anymore. He clicked it, watched a ball of light emerge, let that enter him, and Disapparated.
He found himself at the seaside, facing a small girl in a swimming costume. With her black hair, grey eyes, and imperious air, she could’ve been the little sister of a young Sirius Black
“Who are you?” she demanded.
“Harry Potter.”
“Why did you do that to my papa’s skin?”
“Do what…?” Turning, Harry saw a stunned-looking Draco Malfoy, dressed in swimming trunks, the towel over his shoulders not entirely hiding a scar across his chest.
“Er - I didn’t know that would happen.”
“You shouldn’t use a spell when you don’t know what it does,” the girl said severely.
“You’re right, and I’m sorry.”
“I was behaving rather badly myself at the time,” said Malfoy. “Have you finished chastising our guest, Booboo?”
“Did we invite him?” The girl looked puzzled.
“Would you care for a biscuit, Potter? Be my guest. Sorry we haven’t any tea.” Malfoy turned to the girl. “Satisfied?”
Harry nibbled his biscuit. “Booboo?”
“Name of a star, Eta Draconis, believe it or not.”
“It’s not my name!”
“You’re lucky we didn’t call you… Zubenelgenubi!” Malfoy poked her and she giggled.
Something clicked. Malfoy’s wife - Delphine? - had died giving birth to… “Mira Altair,” Harry said.
She beamed, gap-toothed. “It means ‘Amazing Flying One’. I’m going to play Quidditch someday. Do you like Quidditch?”
“He was a Seeker,” Malfoy said.
“Were you as good as my papa?”
“Well - we were pretty evenly matched, but my broom was faster.”
“It’s not polite to boast,” Mira informed him.
“He was being gracious, actually,” Draco said, “giving me an excuse for losing to him so often.”
Caught in Malfoy’s gaze, Harry forgot to reply.
“How did you know my name?” Mira asked.
“It’s written on a tapestry in my house, in gold thread.”
“Really? Can I see it?”
“Sure.”
“Now?” She bounced.
“Mira…”
“If your papa agrees. We can have some tea to go with the biscuits.”
Draco looked down at his daughter, who was tugging at him, then over at Harry. He nodded slowly. “Why was it you came here, Potter?”
“I heard… the light was good.”
“You’re an artist?”
Harry imagined trying to capture Malfoy’s quizzical smile, his daughter’s vivid face, the sparkling water. Why not?
He laughed. “Anything’s possible.”
and as another lovely podfic by Vaysh
Week 6: Hand of Glory
Title: Outstretched, Alive
Rating: PG-13 for dark themes
Warnings: canonical angst
Word Count: 150
The first hand Draco wanted was Harry Potter’s - just to shake in friendship. But Draco couldn’t share a friend with a Weasley, and Potter had no taste.
Snape claimed they might learn to brew glory. Draco brewed his best, but glory never came.
When Draco first saw the Hand of Glory, it seemed Darkly cool, macabre, powerful. By the time he needed it, gruesome things held no appeal, but he saw no other way. So Draco clutched a dead man’s shriveled hand, and led Death Eaters through Hogwarts by its sickening glow.
For his family’s survival, he threatened his Headmaster. Dumbledore offered another way, too late for either of them.
The next year brought such Darkness and death that Draco choked, as if those lifeless fingers strangled hope, and he couldn’t shake their grip.
Until the Fiendfyre’s terror, and the way out.
Potter, returning for him.
Harry’s hand, outstretched, alive.
Week 7: Quick-Quotes Quill
Title: Pen Porn
Rating: R
Warnings: See title.
Word Count: 210
“I agreed to an interview, Malfoy, but not with one of those lying Quick-Quotes Quills!”
“It won’t actually misquote you, Potter. It just colors the context, according to how it’s set when activated. There’s scurrilous innuendo, wit, neutrality, flattery, porn…”
“Porn, Malfoy?” Harry snorted. “What, ‘Harder, faster, ahhh, nngh, yes?’”
Malfoy drew the pen from his lips where he’d sucked the tip. “As you like.” He placed it upright on the parchment, where it began to write.
‘Porn,’ Potter purred. ‘Malfoy,’ he moaned. ‘What?’ he whispered, his gorgeous green eyes glazed with lust. ‘Harder! Faster! AHHH! NNGH! YES!’
Fucking dialogue tags. Harry turned beet-red. “Give it to me,” he said, reaching for the quill. “I’d better set it. Just suck the tip?”
‘GIVE IT TO ME!’ our handsome hero implored the sexy Slytherin. Flushed with arousal, the raven-haired wizard begged, ‘Just suck…’
“Make it stop,” Harry groaned.
“Perhaps we can distract it.” Malfoy took the feather, brushing it against Harry’s cheeks and lips.
Harry, hot, unbuttoned the top of his robes. Malfoy dipped the plume to tickle Harry’s collarbone.
Unbuttoning.
Stroking.
As the feather skimmed across Harry’s nipples, it stiffened, spurted ink, and drooped.
Malfoy said, “We’re off the record. Now, you wanted me to…”
“Ahhh…”
“…suck…”
“Nngh...”
“…something?”
“Yes.”
Week 8: Golden Snitch
Title: Quidditch for Lovers (Pillow Talk)
Rating: R
Warnings: none
Word Count: 100
“I’m still a good Seeker,” Harry murmured. “Found you, didn’t I?”
“I’m the Golden Snitch?” Draco sounded amused.
You shine. “You played hard to get.”
“Alluring, yet elusive?”
You dart and sparkle.
Draco leaned over Harry, pressing slow kisses. “But once caught… we Snitches have… flesh memory.”
Harry wrapped around his lover, warm and alive.
“Really, you’re a Snidget.” Rare bird. Find sanctuary here.
It was Draco’s touch that burnt away Harry’s post-war fog. Clear skies now, flying weather.
Moving together, breathless. Wonder. Resurrection.
What Harry saw on Draco’s face, he felt in his core. When we’re close, we open.