#Lucius Maybe Already Eternal

[tagedeszorns]

Watch out, Sanakht - he can and will bite!

@ladymirdan asked for SanakhtxLucius-content and I am more than happy to deliver.

I need 40k Lucius trying to visit Sanakht, finding out what happened and then Ahriman has to walk away very briskly.

[remembrancer-of-heresy]

Sweet pleasures (Part 1)

Summary: You accidentally capture the attention of Lucius the Eternal while your world dies under the oppression of heretics

Lucius The Eternal/fem!Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession possessive behavior, manipulation, intimidation, kidnapping, dubious consent, body horror

Word count: 2421

Song: The Sisters of Mercy - More

Good luck, guys. I tried very hard while writing all these horrors and erotica.

You're scared. You're very scared. It was unusual. Wrong. No. No. No. You always knew how to find a way out of any situation. Could always adapt to circumstances. Wear almost any mask. Anyone could like you. Well, apparently this last skill failed you.

You were born on one of the many Imperial Worlds. One of many hive worlds. Аather was a worker, mother a laundress. Joyless life at the middle levels. And a beautiful daughter. Only the daughter turned out to be strange. Behaved differently, thought otherwise.

You didn't want to live so poorly. So that your already short life passes unnoticed. But you didn’t intend to zealously serve the Emperor as a Sister of Battle. No, it was foreign to you. You weren't going to fight. Besides, you didn't have much faith in the Emperor. Of course you prayed and did not say heretical thoughts out loud. But what can you do?

You were quite beautiful. And healthy for your status. Could make friends with many people. Even the gloomiest arbitrators were touched by the sight of you when you were a child. You could become a courtesan. And then could become the concubine of a rich aristocrat. But such a role did not appeal to you either. Quite the contrary. Scared you away.

At some point you found yourself at one of the ports. Spent almost the whole week there. Due to fatigue at work, your parents did not notice your long absence. And at this time you were learning to read. Learned the jargon of smugglers and honest traders. Looked at the maps and kept an eye on the Mechanicum. Occasionally, on the sly. And sometimes openly.

They offered to take you with you. Show all these amazing worlds, but you knew it was a trap. But staying in your parents’ house was also a trap. No matter how you look at it, an honest life did not give anything, but only took away. That's why you started lying.

And you were good at it.

Who have you been in your short life? No actress can compare with your talent. You learned to play the organ. A couple of times pretended to be a nun to look at the holy relics. Made your way into the palace of the aristocrats as one of the maids of honor. They believed you easily. You even thought that you might have been born a psyker. But no, the Black Ship did not come for you.

A couple of times you even followed the mutants hiding in the bowels of the city. Maybe you are one of them? You felt pity for these creatures. They were different from people in appearance, but they were still humans. But they were disgusting to everyone. And you were loved.

You continued to ingratiate yourself with the arbitrators. The hands of the law, of course, could not refuse a lady in trouble and allowed you a lot. And you attended evenings with the nobility. You saw how it was possible to live. You ate and drank things you could never afford as a laundress. You were free and happy.

And you wanted to try so much. Feel it. And at some point you realized that you wanted to leave your world. You wanted to see the whole Imperium. To taste everything. You were ready.

And then Chaos came.

***

The resistance to the heretics did not last even a week. They were too strong. As you later found out, this was not just one band of space marines. There were several of them. Apparently the heretics pursued a new goal after the fall of Cadia. And your planet has become just an obstacle on the way, which can be turned... into entertainment.

You're probably lucky that you didn't meet any fanatics of Nurgle or Tzeentch. The Khornites would simply crush you. Only now you find that your part of the city was captured by the Slaaneshists... Hedonists and debauchees. Admirers of torture and lovers of using human flesh as a drug.

You tried to hide from them. Used every opportunity. The survivors looked at you and couldn’t help but share their shelter with you. they were so kind. You felt a shame. You were a liar but not an evil woman. In the end, you left this family hiding in the bowels of the city and took to the streets. You hoped to find a new shelter.

And in the end you encountered mortal cultists who were looking for city residents to make offerings to their masters. They rejoiced when they captured you. They mockingly consoled you. Caressed. But nothing more. They said that their lord should receive a whole and untouched toy.

At that moment, for the first time in your life, you felt helpless.

***

You fully appreciated the perversity of the Emperor's Children when you saw the main hall of one of the richest aristocrats. The golden and white walls were covered with pieces of human flesh. The heads of the statues were cut off and human heads were placed in their place. Men, women. Even children. Liters of blood flowed down the walls and floor. It was impossible to stay clean in this mess.

The center of the hall was filled with bodies. Alive and dead. Their bodies were joined in a brutal orgy. Although this word only narrowed down all the horror that was happening in this place. Men and women, young and old, mated like animals. They cut each other and themselves. They devoured human flesh, blood and even excrement. They sang, no, they shouted, drawn-out melodies. Mortals are mired in the ritual of the heretics, unable to resist.

And you could have ended up there... if you had not looked at the warrior who grabbed you with pitiful eyes. He liked your look. Stroking your head, he said that such a beauty should not die so early. Although you saw that among this mass there were also noblewomen who were much more beautiful and healthier than you. You definetly was a rare mutant.

And luckily for you, it was even easier for you to please the heretics. You didn't even have to try. Didn’t have to learn anything new, make an effort or try to understand the other person. No, they just liked your defenseless and vulnerable look. Something fragile that can be broken. Perverts.

You try not to shake so as not to drop the tray. You have been registered as a “servant”. You and several other slaves stood against the right wall, holding a tray with various dishes. Someone had drugs created from the tears of prisoners. Someone's got guts. You are lucky, on your tray there are fresh berries from the aristocrat's reserves.

The food was not intended for ordinary traitorous Space Marines, much less mortal cultists. They were having fun on the lower levels of the palace. No, you had to serve the gang leaders, who sat on pillows made of human skin. You looked at them sometimes, unable to contain your curiosity. But how you wanted to erase their image from your memory.

On the left side was a Space Marine, hairless and with incredibly bottomless black eyes. The mouth stretched out, more like a lattice. He slowly stroked his weapon, enjoying the “music” of the slaves. Next to him sat a half-man, half-bull. The huge armor was strewn with the skulls of defeated enemies. The Space Marine was talking with the main leader, lazily playing with the dissected brains of a slave with one hand...

The unfortunate man had just recently presented them with wine. The rest of the servants usually went back to their places to get a new tray. But apparently the space marines did not like the wine. Or, on the contrary, they appreciated it, and the heretic simply became bored. You couldn’t know the exact answer and it made you shiver.

On the right side lay an incredibly handsome man in pearl armor. Amber hair framed a pale, bored face without a single scar. The man was much more interested in sorting through his test tubes with the brightly colored substance. And given the rumors, you didn't want to know what was inside. A space marine with a gold-plated mask stood at a distance, keeping an eye on the orgy in the center. It was this sorcerer who was responsible for the ritual.

Well, in the center sat the leader of this gang. One of the slaves even recognized his name. Lucius the Eternal.

He was disgusting. His entire face, which looked more like a piece of raw meat, was covered with scars. Three flasks with a narcotic substance were attached to the space marine’s suit, which flowed directly through the tubes into the heretic’s flesh. The clawed teeth smiled as Lucius whispered to the bull, holding a glass of wine in his left hand. A daemonic sword rested nearby.

“They want sweets” - a servant approaches you and you flinch in surprise. The slave's eyes are empty and yet he looks straight into your soul. - “Bring them berries.”

Now it’s your turn. You inhale through your nostrils and slowly walk towards the Space Marines. You feel the other servants looking at you with pity. Soon you come to the heretics. The man in pearl armor and the heretic in a golden mask pay no attention to you. So you approach Lucius and his friend.

The man glances at you quickly... and freezes. Violet eyes shamelessly scan your body, especially looking at your face. Lucius takes a deep breath and you realize that he is trying to recognize your scent. A low laugh comes from his throat.

“Oh, I asked for something sweet,” the man runs his tongue over his teeth and you wince at how long it is. - “But I was expecting food, not a pretty face.”

You purse your lips and pick up the tray.

“I-I brought berries,” you babble before squealing in surprise as one of the arms grabs you. You can barely hold the tray of food in your hands, finding yourself next to Lucius. Your surprised gaze meets his mocking one.

“And the voice is sonorous.” - the man laughs to half-bull, hugging your body to himself. His hungry eyes linger on your parted lips. - “So you brought berries, sugar? Then feed me.”

You gulp at the slaaneshist's strange behavior, but comply. You take a bunch of grapes and bring one berry to the Space Marine’s mouth. Trying your best to focus on his ugly face and his hand on your waist. Ignoring the blood-sticky leather pillows and armor of your tormentor. Bloody, covered with faces frozen in agony.

The heretic opens his mouth and bites half of the berry, splashing the juice over your hand. The man moans and you tremble from his rough voice. But the worst thing is when he starts licking the juice from your palm. Extremely slowly and carefully. You've heard that, in addition to regular saliva, Space Marines also have poisonous saliva that can be used in battle. It's surprising he hasn't used it...at least not yet.

“I love the taste of your sweat, sugar.” - the man chatters his teeth in your face, but obediently eats another grape. - “And who were you before we captured your wretched planet? Hardly one of these poor things.” - the traitor lazily shakes his head towards the hall. - “We let all noble women in for the ritual. Well, some passed for new decor.”

The bull grins. He had already managed to eat half the brains of the slave, who somehow miraculously survived. The prisoner's eyes looked at you pleadingly with tears. They asked to be relieved of pain and suffering. But you couldn't. You need to take care of yourself.

“I-” - you try to squeeze out a word, but freeze mid-sentence. Who were you? What have you done useful in this life? Catching Lucius’ furrowed eyebrows, you begin to babble desperately. - “I-I don’t know. My mother is a laundress, and my father is a factory worker. I studied history at the academy and played the organ a little for the nobility. Pretended to be an official, keeping an eye on the cultists. D-dressed like a nun for fun. I tried all the jobs which I liked. Am I...am I a tramp?”

You are asking either yourself or Lucius. As if he knows who you are and what your destiny is. The man looks at you with an unblinking gaze before laughing madly. You look at him blankly, with a terrible feeling of foreboding, feeling his hand drop from your waist to your thigh.

“How funny you are, sugar! Such a rare thing. Instead of washing clothes, you decided to try everything at once. I see you don’t like living according to the laws of the Corpse Emperor at all, huh?” - you nod with displeasure, noting to yourself the bitterness of the truth. No you do not like it. Lucius sees this. - “Yes, you crave pleasure. And you can’t get enough of trying on more and more new roles. My mortal slaves with their little enjoyments are not worth your finger.”

The traitor buries his nose in your neck, inhaling your scent. You thought it was so easy for you to please a mortal heretic. But the Space Marine almost melted next to you. This was your salvation. And a curse.

“I'll take you with me.” - Lucius purrs, licking your neck. You feel his fingers begin to caress the inside of your thigh. Your legs tighten, some of the berries fall from the tray onto the pillows. This only makes the man laugh. - “You will see agony. Ecstasy. More."

You shrink into his hugs and caresses, unable to resist. Fear takes over your body. Lucius' fingers gently stroke your sex through your clothes and you can't hold back your shameful quiet moan. The man almost giggles like a young boy. The rest of the space marines don't pay attention to you two except the bull. He breathes loudly and shamelessly, carefully following The Eternal’s antics. Tears blur your eyes. What a humiliation.

A cacophony of cries of martyrs, clutching each other in pain and pleasure, can be heard throughout the hall. You see how their naked flexible bodies merge with each other and twist like a spiral. Many find themselves buried under the flesh, while others scream madly, unable to get out of the trap. You feel like they are looking at you.

You fall into darkness.

[soupbitch-moneybitch]

comprehensive list of how ofmd characters would fare if tasked with destroying the ring of power in the fires of mount doom

would be immediately corrupted by the ring:

badminton twins

prince ricky

would use the ring for evil and/or chaos for fun:

calico jack (and it would get Weird(tm) )

spanish jackie (jackie loves her some eternal power over all living creatures in middle earth)

roach (love the guy, but the chaos would be too enticing)

ned lowe (duh)

anne bonnie and mary read (sometimes you gotta spice things up. god forbid women do anything amirite)

evelyn higgs (god forbid women do anything x2)

pre-stede, peak blackbeard era ed (his heart wouldn't really be into it, but it would be expected of him, and he'd do it for the image more than anything else)

would make an attempt to get to mordor but wouldn't make it:

pirate queen zheng (has too much power already, she'd pull a boromir, or more likely, pull an aragorn and accept that she can't be the one to take it, and instead would take down saruman and lead the battle outside the black gate)

ivan (has good intentions, but is too much of a traditional pirate and would inevitably get corrupted)

the swede (he would give it the ol' college try, but would get lost, and fall into the dead marshes, or get stepped on by a tree ent or something)

ed and stede (they would try, but would 10000% lose the plot, probably as early as rivendell when they start dicking around dressing up as elves and pretending to be elven royalty, and then, through a series of wacky misadventures, would somehow end up opening an inn in the shire and being completely unaware of the fact that all the hobbits really don't love having men living among them, but they sell cheap drinks and good food, and that's all hobbits really care about so they let them stay)

wouldn't go to mordor in the first place:

lucius (um, that sounds like a LOT of walking, and he has much better things to do)

pete (would volunteer, but it would be unanimously decided that "maybe you should sit this one out, bud")

wee john (the ring is too basic and tacky and wouldn't go with his Look(tm), and also he'd prefer to stick to what he's good at: napping, sewing, and arson)

archie (would be prepared to go, but the second she gets her hands on it, she would start using it as a party trick like, "lol, look guys, i'm invisible!" and then would inevitably get murdered by ring wraiths)

could go to mordor and destroy the ring, but wouldn't:

auntie (she could definitely destroy the ring, but she's too busy making sure the red flag stays afloat, and keeping the pirate navy in check--she doesn't have time for petty concerns like "the fight between good and evil")

buttons (mad galadriel energy--would be able to refuse the ring, and this would then elevate him to the next phase of his transformation into an all-knowing, all-powerful being, who is also probably a bird)

would make it to mordor but wouldn't destroy the ring:

frenchie (he gets to the fires of mount doom only to realize he dropped the ring somewhere along the way and has no idea where it is)

mary (could make it to mordor, but the feeling of power for the first time in her life after years of being subservient in a shitty society would make the allure too strong in the end)

jim (would probably become corrupted if they were the one carrying it, but could 10000% act as a cutthroat body guard throughout the trek)

would make it mordor and would be able to destroy the ring:

oluwande (the purest of heart, perfect cinnamon roll, too pure, doesn't know how to pronounce "china"--he would never become corrupted)

doug (he would be the sam to mary's frodo, but in a very casual chill way, like "oh, you're being corrupted? no worries, babe, i got it")

is gollum:

izzy hands

my assessment is perfect and correct, but feel free to add your thoughts if you think i'm wrong (but i'm not)

[bitterballofsunshine]

The Eternal Issue of Lord Black: Drarry Edition

Okay so I just noticed something and it’s been bugging me for ages and idk if this is legit or if I’m just plain stupid. Or if someone's already talked about this. I am solely basing my knowledge on fanfics/fandom wiki and what little I remember from canon so, meh.

Assuming that the Black Family has a title such as Lord (or Lady) Black, wouldn’t that go to Draco? I know that some fanfictions depict Harry as Lord Black....

....but here’s the thing.

I think Lordship goes from parent to child or sibling to sibling in an instance where a Lord or Lady doesn’t have children. But if the Lord or Lady left a will stating that they wished the inheritance to go to someone else, then that will would be followed. Which is why it’s acceptable that Sirius left a will saying that everything should go to Harry. BUT…..

In most of the fanfictions where Draco gets disowned by Lucius, it means that he no longer inherits anything. Not the title or the manor or the Gringotts vaults. So, if that’s what disowning entails then neither Sirius nor Andromeda gets any of the Black inheritance. So, even if Sirius left a will, it wouldn’t (couldn’t) include Black property since Sirius didn’t have the rightful ownership to any. (Even if Sirius was proven to not be a criminal, he was disowned for different reasons, which still stood.)

So, if we go down the family line;

Orion Black is depicted as Lord Black in many places but he in fact had an elder sister, Lucretia Black, who married Ignatius Prewett (Molly’s uncle). But apparently, she wasn’t disowned for it

so if we follow normal inheritance laws, she was Lady Black until she died in 1992.

She outlived Orion (died in 1979) so Orion technically never became Lord Black to begin with. But after Lucretia Balck’s death (since she had no children), the inheritance should go to her sibling….

Orion Black, who is dead.

Then, since he has children, his sons.

Sirius Black, disowned. So, it wouldn’t matter if he had children. We move on to his sibling.

Regulus Black, dead. But if he had children, they would’ve inherited it, but he didn’t. So, I think we go to Cygnus Black (Orion and Lucretia’s younger brother).

[Update: I'm sorry, not younger brother, it's younger cousin. In which case, Walburga would come before Cygnus but when Lucretia died, Cygnus was the only one left so, this changes nothing.]

He died the same year as Lucretia, but there’s no date. So, he could’ve been Lord Black for a short amount of time.

After him, his children.

Bellatrix Lestrange nee Black, dead. (She was Lady Black while in Azkaban after her father’s death though) Didn’t have any children, so we go to her sibling.

Andromeda Tonks, disowned. Doesn’t inherit anything herself so she can’t give anything to Nymphadora.

So, we go to Cygnus’s next (and last) daughter, Narcissa.

She’s alive at the end of canon so she technically becomes Lady Black.

She wasn’t disowned so after her, according to inheritance laws (??), Draco becomes Lord Black.

Or maybe I’m missing some important thing here? If spouses are also in line for inheritance, then after Lucretia, it could be Ignatius Prewett. After whom the inheritance would still jump back to Orion (since they don’t have children and Lucretia’s family blood is priority), then Walburga, Sirius, Regulus, Cygnus, Druella Black (Cygnus’s wife), Bellatrix, Rodolphus Lestrange (also dead, I think?), Narcissa, Lucius, Draco…and maybe then Harry.

BUT, is some instances in actual world history, when a Lord or Lady was named for a family, whomever they married took the other title, meaning that a married couple was always the Lord and Lady of the House. (Which actually makes sense) It didn’t mean that inheritance laws changed. If a father is the Lord by blood, and the mother is the Lady since she married him, then after the father’s passing, the mother is no longer Lady. The title moves on to her children and whomever they marry.

So, Narcissa becomes Lady Black by blood (and Lady Malfoy through marriage) and Lucius becomes Lord Black through marriage. Then when Draco becomes Lord Black after Narcissa’s passing, Harry (I’m not going for canon here, I’m going for drarry) becomes Lord Black too.

Also just realised that Draco is both Lord Black and Lord Malfoy through blood.

Did I even make sense?

This is a goldmine for post-war drarry fanfictions though. And for jegulus fics as well.

Imagine Regulus becoming Lord Black after Aunt Lucretia died and James becomes Lord Black too... Sirius just sitting there like

[hsvh-hp]

oh wait someone already asked that one. twilight eternal??

Thanks for asking!!

This one is also a case fic, with eventual Drarry. It opens with Draco at the manor, and something is off. It feels stuck in that place right after the sun sets (where the title came from, har har), and the floor layout keeps changing on him (rooms change/move around, etc). Lucius is there, but can't be drawn away from where he's obsessively hanging out with his peacocks. Draco keeps getting that feeling like 'I'm dreaming, I'm dreaming', but he can't wake himself up. He cannot escape.

This got long and spoilery too, so I'll throw the rest under a cut:

Draco becomes aware that there's something darker in the manor with him and Lucius. It's following after him, weak for now, but seems to be gaining strength. At certain places in the manor, such as where water is running and there are mirrors, he finds he can communicate with Harry. He has no memory of how he got there, but Harry as an Auror was assigned to his case.

Draco learns that he was discovered in the manor library in a state of dead sleep - or, more accurately, in similar state to someone who's been Kissed by a Dementor. Not similarly, there were still signs that Draco's soul was around, so Harry wouldn't let the Ministry close the case and just let it go. Neither would Narcissa, of course.

Anyway, basically Harry and Draco have to communicate across this quasi-veil to try and figure out how to get Draco's soul back to his body. Draco cannot get into whichever room in the manor his body is currently in. The dark thing he'd registered in the manor with him and Lucius is the remnant of the Dementor. It's discovered that Draco had caught the Dementor that had Kissed Lucius after the war and deduced, you know, he's legally registered as having received his punishment, so if I could get his soul back, he'll have paid his price and he can live on (focus eventually shifted post-war from punishment to rehabilitation, and Lucius was intentionally dealt with swiftly to avoid him getting the chance at the latter). But it all went wrong and here Draco is, lmao.

I haven't quite decided what's required for Draco to come back. Probably Harry tells him that his attachment to Lucius is anchoring him there, but Draco won't accept that. Maybe they figure out what Draco did wrong with the Dementor in order to fix/complete it, all under pressure of time as that Dementor with Draco is gaining strength/getting scarier.

[helpistolethesecharacters]

I'll Be Your Romeo If You'll Be My Juliet

Lucius Malfoy x Male Reader

Word Count: 1911

This was a request from an anon for a Lucius x male reader.

I hope this is everything you wanted from your request anon, if it isn't, feel free to send me another request!

---------

It was time for the annual Yule gathering. The Black family had the honor of hosting it this year, and they had taken every opportunity to remind everyone of that fact.

The heirs, the ones that mattered anyway, had been almost insufferable on the lead up to the yule break.

Lucius had mixed feelings on the whole subject, not that he could let that show to anyone.

Luckily, it looked like his betrothed was of a similar mind. The lovely Andromeda Black had been as quiet as he had been lately. If they had had even the smallest bit of interest in each other, they might have brought their concerns up.

Lucius thought fleetingly of a world where they could be in love. They would spirit themselves away to an abandoned classroom where they could talk uninterrupted about all of the things that were bothering them. They would take comfort in not being alone. It would bring them closer together and they could fall in love all over again.

But reality was a cruel mistress, and rarely allowed for such flights of fancy.

As it was, Lucius and Andromeda were just two teens who had been promised to each other from before they had even been born. There was nothing more between them.

Lucius sighed silently as he exited the floo into the receiving room at the Black Manor.

He barely registered an elf banishing the soot from his dress robes as he moved out of the room.

"Heir Malfoy, a pleasure to have you in our humble home this evening. And of course you as well Lord and Lady Malfoy!"

Lucius nodded at the welcome and stood obediently by his parents' side as he waited for the greetings to end. Sometimes he tired of all the stiff pureblood airs and graces.

After the obligatory back handed compliments they moved off into the party proper. With a last terse command to not embarrass the family name, courtesy of his father, Lucius moved away to see if he could find someone a little closer to his age.

He absently took a glass of sparkling cider from one of the floating trays that dotted the ballroom. The Blacks really had outdone themselves this year. The room was done in shades of white, sliver and blue. It really was stunning, but nothing seemed to be able to knock Lucius out of the numbness he had slipped into.

It had started at the start of that school year with the arrival of a transfer student. The other boy was their age, and the most enchanting creature that Lucius had ever laid eyes on. He had watched his sorting with longing, but the dratted hat had put Y/n into Ravenclaw. It wasn't really the end of the world, Lucius shuddered to think if he had been put into Gryffindor, or worse, Hufflepuff. Unfortunately, Lucius was already betrothed, but even if he wasn't, Abraxas Malfoy would never allow him to sully the Malfoy name with a male partner.

So Lucius had had to swallow his feelings as best he could. It hadn't worked very well, so he had allowed himself to pine from afar just a little.

He was jolted out of his daydream by the object of his thoughts. Lucius inhaled his mouthful of cider at the sight of Y/n.

He looked amazing in his dress robes, dressed up all fancy for the ball. Lucius thought to himself that if this was the cause of his death it would be worth it.

He was aware, once he managed to stop choking, of three things. One, everyone was looking at him, two, his face was probably red enough to shame a Weasley's hair, and lastly, that Y/n had the brightest e/c eyes possible.

He was struck with the awful thought that this was probably the first time that Y/n had known that Lucius existed.

'Well, that was a fantastic first impression,' Lucius thought to himself. He pointedly looked everyone who would meet his gaze straight in the eyes. As he had thought, it was enough to discomfort them into looking away.

Lucius raised his chin and moved off into a different area of the ballroom.

-------------

Ever since Y/n had realised that Lucius Malfoy was at the party as well, he had been jittery. The other boy was always looking at him. He had been the cause of enough distraction before this, when he was just someone who lurked at the fringes of his awareness while he studied in the school library. Now, Y/n was sure that he would never be getting rid of the image of Lucius in dress robes. How was he ever going to be able to concentrate again?

He shook himself slightly and tried to focus back in on whatever it was that the Greengrass heiress was talking about. He was supposed to be making connections here, maybe paving the way for a betrothal contract. As the first Pendragon to be seen in this and the previous generation, there was a lot of pressure to make the right political connections. A marriage to someone who was already politically powerful in this community would go a long way toward putting them back on the map in this magical community.

It was the Gods eternal joke that he was the only one that could do this. He only had one other relative, and his uncle wasn't exactly all there anymore. His parents had made it clear that this was their only chance to become the powerful family that they had once been.

Sure, potions had made it possible to have a male pregnancy, but it was still looked down on pretty harshly by most purebloods. Y/n had no idea how he was supposed to get his family back to its former glory, when to do it he would have to marry a girl. Why did he have to be gay?

------------

Lucius was slowly going out of his mind. He had moved around the party doing his best to ignore Y/n, but he couldn't get him out of his head. The other boy was still standing where he had first spotted him, entirely surrounded by everyone their age.

What was worse was that these were people Lucius had grown up with. He had known these people for his whole life, and it was this that allowed him to see what was happening.

They were all flirting with Y/n.

Lucius was almost certain that some of them, most notably his friends, were only doing it to irritate him and not because they were genuinely interested in Y/n.

He had been shooting furtive looks over at the group for the last half an hour, and still they kept it up. Lucius just didn't know what to do. Oh sure, he knew what he wanted to do, but he also knew that there was no way he could actually pull it off.

For one thing, if he showed his hand by going over there and making a fool of himself he would face serious consequences when he got home. He was sure he would already be in trouble for his incident earlier that night, but if his father heard even a hint of a whisper that his only heir was gay, well, Lucius wasn't sure he would survive that particular punishment.

He was pulled up short at the realisation of where he was. He was in a room with some of the biggest gossips in the magical world, all of which could just about smell weakness. He shot his eyes around the room and realised with a start that it was already too late.

He recognised the look in his fathers eyes when he met them. Someone must have said something about his preoccupation with his classmate to Abraxas. Lucius swallowed, noting his suddenly dry throat.

He looked away from his father, toward Y/n and his friends. There might be a way to salvage this, pretend to have been watching another of his friends. He would still be in trouble for lusting after someone who was not his betrothed, but much less than if it had been the very male Y/n.

There was a commotion over by one of the doors, but Lucius was too busy thinking. He was realising that he was done. He couldn't live like this anymore, and he was done pretending that he could.

He squared his shoulders and moved over to his friends.

"Excuse me, may I borrow Y/n for a moment. We won't be long."

He didn't even bother waiting for a response, just grabbed a hold of him and started off in a random direction. The only thing in his mind was getting as far away from other people so he could have this discussion in peace.

He pulled Y/n out of the ballroom and down hallway after hallway until he decided they were lost enough that only a house elf would be able to find them.

He turned back to the other boy after making sure that the area was empty. They were both panting a little after their impromptu jog.

Y/n was looking at Lucius cautiously.

Lucius surged forward and connected their lips.

They were gasping for breath again when he pulled back.

"You know we can't do this."

Lucius cut him off before he could continue.

"I'm done. I'm done being the perfect heir for parents that don't care to know the real me. I'm done pretending that I'm not head over heels for you. Most of all, I'm done holding back from the things I want just because society wants so badly to tell me no."

He pulled in a deep breath, still standing in Y/n personal space. Neither boy had moved back.

"I want you, Y/n, and I think you've known that for as long as I have. If I haven't missed my guess, you want me too. I'm certainly not alone in all the looks I've sent your way, and I would regret it for the rest of my life if I didn't at least find out if you could feel the same way as I do for you."

Y/n sighed and shifted back a step.

"Those are pretty words Lucius, easy to say them here, alone in a secluded corner of someone else's manor, but how will you feel walking into Hogwarts next week, and letting everyone see. How will you feel when your parents cut you off?"

"I'm not totally helpless Y/n, I'll find a way to survive. I know for sure that if I have you by my side there isn't anything that we can't face."

He softly took Y/n's hand and stroked the back with his thumb.

"So what do you say? Can you feel the same way I do?"

Y/n shut his eyes in resignation.

"You know I do."

They stood at the end of their silent hallway for some time, just holding each other.

"You know this will be the second scandal of the night?"

Lucius pulled back to look at Y/n.

"What do you mean?"

Y/n looked at Lucius, shocked.

"What do you mean, what do I mean? Didn't you hear, just before you pulled me out of there, one of the older Blacks ran in and caused quite the scene. By the looks of things Andromeda is missing. From what I managed to gather, she's run off with that muggleborn from Ravenclaw, you know, Tonks-something, or something-Tonks."

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 30: Likeness

Draco Malfoy had spent his entire life being shaped and molded into the image and likeness of Lucius Malfoy.

It had always been assumed that he would go into politics, that he would settle down with a nice pureblood girl and have a child. His life had always been laid out before him like it had already happened.

But the summer Draco turned 18 he left. He left his family, left his friends, left the wizarding world all together. Draco cut his hair short on the sides and let the top grow out and then he dyed it pink.

He got a muggle tattoo; bright, beautiful flowers to cover up the dark mark: new life conquering death.

And he got a job dancing at a strip club. He was good at it, he had the body for it, for the corsets and the tiny panties, for the heels that made his legs look miles long. The muggle glitter made his pale, muscular body shimmer under the lights. He had the face for it, his eyes mysterious and otherworldly enough that the make-up only enhanced it.

He was a very popular act and Draco enjoyed the whole affair. He enjoyed people watching him, desiring him. It wasn't a forever career but it served him well.

It continued to serve him well for four whole years, before one night when the lights came up and he strut out onto the stage, rolling his hips and letting his hands caress his body, and just as he was reaching for the pole his eyes snagged on a pair of eyes he would have recognized anywhere.

It felt like eternity passed in the beat of the song he missed as he found Harry Potter staring back at him from the audience. A jolt of something electric skittered down his spine and Draco forced himself to look away and start dancing.

(Read more below the cut)

He hooked his leg around the pole and began his routine, falling into the familiar motions, spinning, and rolling, and flipping, using every ounce of strength and control he possessed.

And he very intentionally did not allow his eyes to stray to Potter.

Even without looking, though, he knew that he had the other man's undivided attention. It had been so long since he'd felt the heat of Potter's gaze on him that he'd almost forgotten what it was like to be the center of his attention.

At the very end, as he was collecting the notes that had been thrown at him, he allowed himself one more look.

Potter had grown up. He'd grown taller and his body had filled out, it was almost hard to believe that he was the same boy who'd come to Hogwarts looking malnourished, weak, and filthy to fight the most dangerous wizard to ever live. His hair had grown out, too, it was pulled back into a messy bun, and he'd grown in a beard that he kept trimmed neatly.

He had the sudden urge to feel the scrape of his beard on all of the sensitive places on his body, to sink his fingers into Potter's curls as his mouth tasted Draco's skin.

He made eye contact, and his arousal spiked at the look of sheer want in the other man's eyes. In that moment, Draco felt like the most powerful man in the entire world.

The man sitting next to Potter, a muggle that Draco didn't recognize, punched him in the shoulder and the moment dissipated like smoke.

With a quick shake of the head, he finished collecting his money and disappeared back stage without looking at him again.

That night he wondered what would come of Potter seeing him, wondered if he'd find reporters from the Prophet at the show the next night, worried that his world was crashing down around him.

But he couldn't seem to stop wondering if he might see Potter again.

------------

Potter returned the next night, and the next, and the next, and so on for the following month.

Every time Draco stepped onto the stage, Potter was there in the crowd watching. And he found himself watching Potter more and more, until one night he spent nearly his entire scene watching the other man, he might as well have used Potter as a spot to keep himself from getting dizzy.

It was that night that he decided enough was enough. He had to find out why Potter was here and what he wanted. After his performance he changed quickly, pulling on a pair of skinny jeans and a plain black t-shirt. He slipped into a pair of trainers and headed out of his dressing room and toward the door that led into the club.

Potter was no where to be seen when he came in so he went outside and saw him walking down the sidewalk. "Potter!" he shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth.

The other man froze before turning slowly to look at him.

Draco jogged to catch up to him but found that he wasn't quite sure what to say once he was standing in front of him.

"Uh," the other man said inelegantly, rubbing the back of his neck, "Hey."

"Hey?" Draco spluttered incredulously. "You show up to every single one of my performances for the past month and that is all you have to say? Hey?"

"You're very talented," Potter offered.

"Yes," he replied.

Potter snorted, "Humble as ever, I see."

"Why should I be humble? I am talented," he said, tilting his chin up defiantly. "I've worked hard to get where I am."

"Sorry," Potter said, trying to backpedal, "I didn't-" he shook his head. "I'm not sure what to say to you. I didn't mean to offend you."

"I'm not offended," Draco replied. He crossed his arms, wishing he'd brought a jacket, "Just," he huffed, "tell me why."

"Why what?"

"Why you keep coming to watch me dance!"

Potter looked at him for a long moment, "Are you cold?" he asked.

"Yes," he replied, because it was true. Potter started to shrug off his jacket, "You don't have to do th-" but his protest fell on deaf ears as he looped it over Draco's shoulders.

"I've asked myself that very same question a thousand times," Harry replied. "In part, I think it's because so many people just stayed the same. It's why I left the wizarding world for the most part, everyone wanted me to be who I'd always been and I didn't want that anymore. I wanted to be allowed to grow and change. And you've obviously done that, too."

"So, what you felt like we were kindred spirits or something?" he asked.

"Sort of," Potter replied, lazily lifting one shoulder, "But you're just nothing like what I imagined you turn out to be and it made me wonder what else I was wrong about when it came to you."

"And you thought the best way to figure it out was by watching me pole dance?"

Potter laughed and rubbed the back of his neck again, "I don't know. I couldn't figure out what to do," he confessed. "I didn't know how to talk to you."

"Still," Draco said, "there has to be more to it than that."

"You're also bloody gorgeous," Potter added, "when you dance. And I really like watching you."

"Oh?"

He nodded, "I'd wondered a little bit before I saw you again if part of my obsession with you at Hogwarts was actually attraction that I just hadn't understood at the time."

"And?" he asked.

"Well, obviously seeing you again confirmed it." Potter looked down and scuffed his toe on the sidewalk.

In a moment of bravery that he'd never quite be able to understand later, Draco stepped forward, caught Potter's chin and pressed their lips together.

Potter took a surprised gasp, sucking a bit of Draco's air into his mouth before he started to kiss him back. His hands moved to cup Draco's face as he kissed him softly, gently like Draco was something precious, something treasured.

He'd been kissed a lot but he'd never been kissed like this. He'd never been kissed with such single-minded devotion, never been kissed like he was someone instead of something. Potter licked into his mouth, stroking his tongue over Draco's as one of his hands slid down to Draco's waist, drawing him a bit closer.

After a long moment, Potter pulled back first, "We should get off the sidewalk," he said.

"Logical," Draco replied.

"Could I take you to dinner?"

The corner of Draco's mouth tipped up, "I don't usually have dinner with my one night stands."

"Well, maybe I could not be a one night stand?" Potter said. "Not that I'm even remotely opposed to the idea of sex with you, I just can't imagine that one night could ever be enough."

"I might be able to be persuaded."

"Oh?" Potter asked, smiling wide enough that his dimples appeared. "How might I be able to persuade you?"

He smirked, "I'm not entirely sure yet but you're resourceful, you'll figure it out."

"Where would you like to go for dinner?" Potter asked.

"You flat," he replied. "I'm still in my stage make-up and it makes for some funny looks."

"Your make up is gorgeous," Potter protested, "But I'd be very glad for you to come back to my flat."

"Lead on, then," Draco replied, feeling a spark of anticipation.

This was just the first of many nights that Draco came to Harry's flat after the show. He came to his flat so often, in fact, that it eventually became their flat. And Harry had been right all along, one night (or one lifetime, for that matter) could never be enough.

---------------

You can read Day 107: Charge as a sequel to this ficlet. :)

Day 29: Punch | Day 31: Veritaserum

[a-dusty-emerald]

Crimson Cuddles: Draco x Reader /Fluff

Just a fluff story for your morning Draco x Y/n comfort. (From my Wattpad story)

Crimson Cuddles: In other words, you get your period. _____________________________________________

Draco was tapping his quill on the edge of his desk annoyed, his eyes rolling at each sentence coming out of Professor Babbling's mouth (Ancient runes Prof.). He never cared for this class, he knew what he had to know.

He huffed at Granger's hand that was fluttering up high at each and every question.

'Does this girl snort cocaine every morning?' He thought. The know-it-all bubbly energy of the muggleborn Gryffindor at 8am only added to his temper.

However, the root of his issue was that his girlfriend, Y/n, was nowhere in sight. Class was almost over, so Draco guessed she overslept. She always was such a night-owl either way, so she must have stayed up till late. She rarely missed classes though. He didn't want to drag her to class himself just because she was not being responsible, though.

'I have told her so many times to train her owl to wake her up each morning. Unbelieveable.' He huffed again.

Thankfully Ancient Runes were finally over. Next class was Potions, Y/n's favourite subject. He had a smug look as he took his time going to class. He could already imagine the disheveled look on her face that she actually missed a class, and maybe, maayyybe, he could get her to train the bloody owl.

As he strutted confidently to the Potion's class, he lifted his eyes from his robe to his and Y/n's desk. His smirk fell.

'Where the fuck is she?' He thought. Y/n would not miss potions just for the sake of it. He had to physically detain her from going to class with a high fever a year ago. And then, it dawned on him. 'She must be sick.'

He turned on his heel to go check on her, bumping to Snape who was right behind him. He eyed him, an eyebrow raised at the platinum haired boy.

"Pardon me, Professor." He said coldly and sat on his desk.

Potions were boring for once. Draco had no one to nag him, no one to talk to. As soon as class ended, he said to Blaise that he would catch up later at dinner and sprinted towards the Slytherin's female dormitories.

Pansy had walked out of the entrance just now, and Draco ran to actually manage to get through the door. He walked towards Y/n's room, not knowing what's wrong. He lightly knocked on her door.

He heard a muffled familiar voice speak: "Pansy, I told you already, I don't care which bra you pick." Draco stiffled a laugh, biting his cheek. "Fine then, I'll wear the lacy one" he mimicked Pansy's voice. He heard his girlfriend softly laugh, understanding who she was speaking to. "You can come in, Draco" he heard the muffled voice again.

Draco opened the door slowly, his eyes adjusting to the darkness of the room. Has she not been out of bed yet? It was past 10am now. "Darling?"

"Yes?" Y/n's small voice was heard from under the fluffy covers. Draco suppressed a short laugh and sat at the edge of her bed.

"You alright?"

Y/n's head finally emerged from the covers and draco got a good look of her. Her skin seemed pale, her eyes tired and her hair was a mess. Y/n looked at draco, who might have been smirking at her state, but she saw a glint of worry in his eyes.

"I'm fine" she finally spoke. Draco said nothing, only leaned backwards and crossed his arms on his chest, a blonde eyebrow reaching higher than his hairline - or so it seemed. He was not satisfied with the answer. After a prolonged silence, he huffed and spoke again.

"Sure you are darling. Peachy as ever." He smirked again at her inability to lie to him.

"...What I meant is I am not ill. I'm on my period, I don't feel great. Quite bad actually. Didn't wanna bother you", she said as she slumped back into the covers, closing her eyes again.

His smirk fell. For the jackass he could be, he knew quite a few things about periods, Narcissa had informed him from a young age about the basics. He would never be insensitive to his girl, of all people. He had her 'female issue' supplies in his room as well, in case she stayed over.

"Your wellbeing is not bothering me. Do you need anything?"

He saw her eyes glimmer, peaking through the covers. "Can I come to your room? I want to take a shower and cuddle. Have left my conditioner at yours as well." She said.

"Sure, come on, lets get to my room." He threw the covers off her in one motion, and she shivered, her source of heat violently being taken from her. She was crouched in a fetal position, her hands pressed on her lower abdomen. She hissed in pain, as she felt a horrible cramp passing through her.

Draco frowned. He hated seeing her in pain. He inched closer to her to cuddle her, but Y/n was determined to get out of bed.

"No no, later. I need to get up. It's not doing me any good. I need to shower." She muttered as she forced herself out of bed, threw a cardigan over her pyjamas,put her hair in a quick ponytail to hide the frizziness and made her way to the boy's dormitories, clutching Draco's arm along the way.

Once she got in the -much bigger and fancier- room, she immediately locked herself in the bathroom, stripping out her silky pyjamas and hopping in the shower. She let the hot water relax her muscles,the steam putting her in a drowsy state. As she lathered her coconut shampoo in her hair and reached for her boyfriend's body wash, green apple scented, she silently laughed on his obsession with green apples, when she heard of him outside the door.

"Imma make us some tea. Alright?" "Sure!" She spoke as loudly as she could, in order to be heard over the sound of the water.

Stepping out of the shower, she found a pair of clean underwear waiting for her next to a brand new box of tampons and smiled.

'If only Blaise would see Draco making her tea and providing her tampons, he would tease him for eternity' she smirked, giggling to herself. Blaise was her best friend, telling him a few details of his oh-so-rare soft side would give him enough teasing opportunities for the whole semester. Draco's well known soft spot was her, he always had his stone cold persona around the guys and Blaise was always ready to hear stories that prove a point they all knew; the platinum haired boy was nowhere near emotionless or insensitive.

Draco opened his room's door carefully holding 2 mugs of hot tea, finding a more relaxed, but still in insufferable pain Y/n. She was wearing one of his hoodies and some high knee warm fuzzy socks, and he could not control the smile that crept over his lips.

"What?" Y/n said curiously, seeing him smiling at her. "Love it when you're wearing my clothes. You are honestly so cute". Y/n slightly blushed and faced the other way.

Draco made his way to bed, handing her her mug. He took a sip and spoke "I read tea is good for the pain. Warmth in general. So if you want to cuddle my hot as fuck body, understandable. It's available."

"Oh is it?" Y/n jokinly answered, her eyebrow raised playfully.

"Yup" he said. "Do not take it for granted though. Other women will be qeueing for the Malfoy cuddling experience later today." He smirked.

"Draco Lucius Malfoy," Y/n said calmly. "I will castrate you and send your balls to your oh-so-friendly father, letting him know his lineage is lost forever".

Draco was audibly laughing, while his arm cradled Y/n's small body. Her face suddently went from a teasing expression to a scrunched up, pained one.

He frowned again. If he could take some of the pain, he would. "Another cramp?"

He heard a muffled nod from Y/n's head on his shoulder, and pressed a few kisses on her exposed neck, his arms hugging her even closer to him. His fingers snaked their way under her shirt and pressed in her lower abdomen, slowly massaging the area. He heard a shruddered breath come out of her, and didn't know if it was a good or a bad thing, continuing nevertheless. He stopped however, when he felt dampness on his neck. He pulled himself back to look at her. She had been crying.

"Did I hurt you?" He asked full of worry. "Sorry if I did, thought it would be better-"

Y/n furiously shook her head. "No, I'm just in a lot of pain, got a bit emotional that you are taking care of me. Stupid hormones..." Y/n mumbled, her face flushed.

Draco smiled and wiped her tear away. "Shhh, 'ts alright darling. Come here." He pulled her back in their previous position.

"Please continue whatever magic you were doing. Your fingers are proven to be magical today."

"I think you knew that beforehand, darling."

She could practically HEAR the smirk, so she smacked him lightly in his shoulder, as Draco showered her with kisses. He opened a box near his bed, getting a chocolate frog out and giving it to Y/n.

"Thank you." She smiled at him, and pressed a sweet peck at his lips.

As soon as she ate it, he removed one of his hands from her abdomen and grabbed his mug to finish the last bit of tea that was left. Placing the mug back, he felt her head in his chest getting heavier. She was drifting off to sleep, painfree, feeling relaxed in his embrace, and Draco was sure this image alone could let him cast a Patronus if he tried.

The next day, Blaise teased the fuck out of Draco as he huffed annoyed. He should have never let them be friends.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

FEEL FREE TO LIKE AND SHARE! Love you all, feedback always welcome!

[desiredmalfoy]

True Love Is Eternal (D.M x Reader + F.W. x Reader)

Pairing: Draco x Reader, Fred Weasley x Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Note this is going to be changing from 1st person to 2nd and 3rd person.

Enjoy the final installment of the Dear Malfoy Series! Fred’s POV! Thank you for everyone who has shown love to my writing! You don’t know how much I appreciate it (it means a lot to me). 

Dear Malfoy [Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]  (Masterlist)

The invitation to your wedding invitation came suddenly in the mail. It came addressed to the Weasley family, which I guess includes me. No, it did include me. You put that in the invitation. I didn’t even realize that I was holding in my breath as I opened up the intricate wedding invitation. The Malfoys are not sparing any expense on this. He would give you nothing but the best in life. He had been fine for the past couple of years, he had managed to get you out of his head for the longest time. He had even been in a serious relationship but that did work out. But it seems like the news of your wedding brought all these feelings back. Maybe all these old feelings resurfacing because of the news of your marriage but not because he actually still loved her. Or maybe in the back of his mind, he’d always wish you would have a moment of revelation where you realized who truly loved him.

                                 We are honored to invite you to

                                       the unity of marriage of

                                         Draco Lucius Malfoy 

                                                       &

                                        (Y/N) (Y/M/N) (Y/L/N)

Your name is written in beautiful intricate gold cursive. Taunting me with every letter written. He ran his fingers over where your name was printed, reminiscing of the moments he had with you.

It was the middle of summer and the both of you were laying on the grass outside the burrow. You were looking up at the night sky admiring the millions of stars. Moments like these were the ones he hoped were forever.

“What do you want to do when we leave this place”,  Fred had asked her out of nowhere. 

“Get my own place. I love my parents but I want to have my own space.” 

“Oh! And get a kitten!” (Y/N) excitedly added. “I really want to get a kitten.”

“I’ll get you as many as you would like”, he said as he hugged her tightly.

“Is this your way of asking me to move in with you”, she teased him and his cheeks had become red from blushing. 

“Not yet but one day in the future hopefully.” He answered as he envisioned them with a few cats and maybe a baby or two. “And you know I’ll have my shop by then too.”

He wished he could go to the past. 

——-

Fred dwelled on the thought of going to your wedding. The invitation had been extended to the entire family, including him. After everything that had occurred, (y/n) had always been on good terms with the rest of the Weasley family. She had even eventually forgiven George for not telling her. George had explained to him that she forgave him to let go of the past and move on. 

Fred had thought he would keep on seeing you every summer as the previous ones before. You had always come to stay at least for a couple of days to see Ron and Ginny before you dated him. But the summer after his 7th year and (y/n)’s 5th it all changed. He anticipated your arrival but didn’t want to ask any of his siblings if they knew you’d be coming over. He stupidly thought that he would be able to at least fix your friendship that summer. It wasn’t until he had overheard a conversation between Ginny, Ron, Hermione, and Harry that he knew you weren’t going to show up.

“I received an owl from her today.”, Ginny said excitedly as she sat down, a white envelope in her hand. 

“How is she? I miss her greatly this summer.” Hermione asked as she reached for that same envelope from Ginny. 

“She said she’s definitely enjoying Paris with Draco.”

“He took her to Paris”, Ron asked, shocked at the revelation. “The bloke has only been dating her for like eight months and he’s already taking her on expensive trips?’

“It’s Malfoy. Did you expect anything less”, Harry answered with a slight eye roll. “He’d buy her a castle if she would just let him.”

“I knew Malfoy always goes all out but I didn’t think he would take her on vacation so soon!”

“What do you expect?” Ginny laughed at Ron’s still confused expression. “He’s madly in love with her. He’s even nice to Harry of all people just for her.”

“That was the most surprising thing of all”, Hermione agreed with her with a giggle. “Who knew all it took to stop Malfoy from being such a prat was for (y/n) to date him.”

“I mean he even called Harry by his first name the last time we saw him instead of Potter”, Ron added to the conversation. 

“I still miss her this summer”, Ginny complained with a groan. “It’s not the same without her.”

That was the beginning of you spending every summer with Draco instead of at the Burrow with the Weasley’s like every other summer. 

———

He was walking along Hogsmeade after a long day of work. He was headed towards the Three Broomsticks to meet up with George who had taken a few days off from the shop that day. He hadn’t been feeling well the past few days and Fred had told him to stay home. He was finally feeling better and to celebrate, George had asked him to meet there for a couple of drinks. It was a pretty calm evening with a few people walking about the area. Fred mostly went unnoticed by others just trying to get home for the night. 

That’s when he saw you coming out of the dress store with your mother and Narcissa Malfoy by your side. (Y/N) had a huge grin on her face as she carried a large white box with a beautiful ribbon to tie it all up. It was your wedding dress. He just knew it was that. A large smile decorated your face as you seemed ecstatic about the contents of the box. He turned quickly into a different alleyway to avoid running into you. 

He was going to be needing something stronger than butterbeer tonight. 

——-

Fred and George were currently on their way to their parent’s home to visit them for the evening. Life had been hectic and he hadn’t had a chance to see them in a couple of days. Plus it was one night where he would not have to cook for himself and George. Nothing beats a home-cooked meal from your mum on days like these. 

They didn’t even bother knocking as they entered the home. 

“Mum your favorites have arrived”, Fred announced loudly teasingly as he saw Ron sitting on the couch. 

“I didn’t know Charlie and Bill were dropping by”, Ron said without lifting his gaze from the book on his lap.

“That hurts Ronnie”, George played around as he wiped a fake tear from his cheek.

“Anyway, where is mum?”

“They’re upstairs trying on the bridesmaid dressed for the future Mrs. Malfoy’s wedding”, Ron said with a snicker. “Mione and Ginny I mean.”

“I still can’t believe that it’s coming up so soon”, Fred responded as he sat next down to his brother. 

“I am just excited about the food”, George said with a laugh. “I know it will be good.”

“Nice to know you care about me”, a teasing voice said from the stairs. Fred knew that voice and giggle anywhere. They all turned to where the voice was coming from.

“You know what I mean”, George said with a smile. He got up and greeted (y/n) with a hug. “It’s nice to see you again.”

He caught a glimpse of your engagement ring shining in light. Only the best for you.

“I’ve been busy”, she answered simply. “Weddings are a big thing to plan. Especially one that is only a about a two weeks away”

“How the joke shop?” (Y/N) questioned George. “Ginny has told me it’s been going amazingly for you two.”

“Right it has been”, George agreed. “Those Hogwarts kids are great customers. Right, Freddie?”

“Way to make us seem old Georgie”, Fred laughed as he looked directly at her. “It’s nice to see you (y/n).”

“Nice to see you too Fred”, she said, giving him a friendly smile. Not the same one she would give him years ago. 

“Are you staying for dinner darling”, mum said as she came down the stairs with Ginny and Hermione trailing just behind. 

“I’m sorry Mrs. Weasley”, (y/n) apologized. “I would love to but I had promised my parents I’d be eating with them tonight. Plus I still have to get home and see if Draco is back from work.”

You’d made a home with him already. One that he had promised you all those years ago.

“Don’t worry darling.” Mum said with a gentle smile. “You’re invited to dinner whenever you would like.”

“Thank you so much.” (Y/N) said as she hugged mum goodbye. She waved to everyone else and she was gone out the door. 

———

The day of the wedding finally came and he had decided to go. He wanted an opportunity to see you dressed in white. Fred walked over with his family to the Malfoy Manor. They’re escorted to the garden in the back to wait for the beginning of the ceremony. It was decorated with your favorite flowers, white roses. Flowers that symbolized innocence, youthfulness, eternal loyalty. 

The eternal loyalty you were about to pledge to Malfoy for the rest of your lives. 

Fred anxiously waited for the ceremony to start. He looked around the space and saw many of his former classmates interacting with each other. It wasn’t long before the ceremony started. 

Draco enters….

Your wedding party enters….

Everyone stands for your entrance….

The wedding march starts….

You walk down the aisle hand in hand with your father. You looked stunning in your wedding dress. Darling how I wish I was the one watching you walk towards me. You don’t spare a glance to where I’m standing. I’m probably the farthest thing from your mind. And I’m glad you don’t because I don’t think my heart would take it. He watches on a Malfoy cries at the sight of you walking towards him. Fred knew if he was in his place he’d probably do the same.

Because even though all I want to do is run up to that alter and tell you exactly how I feel, I simply won’t. I've seen how happy you are with him, and I can't ever do that to you. Even though I sit here to watch you wed another man and break my heart in the process. 

Why am I even here? Why did I even come? 

He watches as you pledge your love for Draco. Vowing to stay with him every moment of your lives together. He watched as you said “I do” through your tears. 

You make such a lovely bride. Maybe in another lifetime or reality, you’re mine. But in this one darling, we just weren’t meant to be. 

Maybe in another lifetime, I’ll be able to hold you close and never let go. In this one, I foolishly took you for granted and let you slip from my arms into the firm grasp of another man. 

I knew I shouldn’t have come, but I couldn’t resist seeing you in white. 

Because sometimes two souls are only meant to just be in each other’s life for a while; awaiting the lifetime where they’ll meet again but this time forever. 

Alternative Ending:

Fred stood alone in his shop tonight. Wanting to throw himself into work to ignore the pain in his chest. He took another swing of the bottle of fire whisky in an attempt to drown out all the intrusive thoughts running through his mind. He spent the evening thinking about how he wished it was him marrying you, waiting at the end of the aisle. You’d be getting married next week and he couldn’t do anything about it. He knew he messed up all those years ago, and he’d do anything to turn back time. 

He heard the door chime as someone opened the door. He must have forgotten to lock up in his current state. 

“We’re closed”, he yelled out towards the door. He didn’t bother to lift his head to talk to them. Not wanting to be seen in this state. 

“Freddie?”

This caused an instant reaction from him. He’d know that voice anywhere.

“(Y/N/N)”, he whispered. He was afraid you’d disappear at any moment. A hallucination.

“I missed you. I need you.”

“I missed you too.”

I know it’s not the best alternative ending but I kind of left it open for the reader to decide. It is a little something for those who would choose Fred instead. Do they realize they actually loved Fred after all this time? Is Fred just losing it and imagining this? It’s up to you to decide!

Click here for Valentine’s Day Shipping

Taglist: @keepsmilingandstayhappy @sarcasticallywitty15 @adrianpuceyishot @dracoismybabey @little-me204 @loveforreading @stephaniewinchester-weasley @cronen 

Reminder: None of my work can be reposted anywhere. It doesn’t matter if you give credit, please do not repost!

[red-winters]

Non-Spoiler first impressions/stream of consciousness on The Batman 2022 (mostly just me gushing about Gotham City, tbh)

*In Which I Vaguely Allude to Some Things. It’s technically non-spoiler, but like in a very incoherent way. with quite a bit of hinting. maybe too much hinting. read at your own risk.

WOW okay they REALLY got Gotham right. Gotham City is as much a character as the Batman or his rogue’s gallery, and they got her right. There were some parts where I went ‘heh that’s Chicago’, but for the most part, it’s Gotham. With all the gothic architecture. Yes.

HOLY WAYNE-KANE FAMILY ORIGIN STORY BATMAN

thats all i’m saying on that front. don’t look up spoilers. don’t do it. just go to the theater and experience it. Enjoy the plot twist.

Andy Serkis as Alfred Pennyworth is a weird choice, but I think he nailed it. It’s just that….I can’t seem to see him as anything BUT Andy Serkis. That’s probably a me problem, I guess?

In addition to Gotham as a character in it’s own right—Gotham perfectly illustrating how and why Batman is needed there and why the Batman is definitely a product of the city and why no other hero outside the Batman and his family can survive there and just. Gothamites.

it’s a generational problem, definitely. possibly something in the water.

the FALCONES. THE MARONI’S. PENGUIN.

SELINA??? KYLE????

She’s perfect. 

Commissioner Gordon’s actor was GREAT. He inhabits the character the same way Zoe Kravitz is Selina Kyle. and I love how they portrayed him. he’s not stuck perpetually on Bat-signal duty, eternally haunting rainy rooftops to be Batman’s quest giver. He makes me believe Gordon is a light in this city, despite all the corruption around him. He walks the walk. and the audience isn’t just told how good he is, we get to see it.

BATMAN IS A DETECTIVE HELL YEAH

wow Selina Kyle backstory my beloved

oh my gosh this is the perfect Gotham for the Court of Owls. I can really believe it when i see THIS Gotham. Not just the corruption and the existing criminal element, but like. the ARCHITECTURE. compared to the Batman movies from a couple years ago (with Christian Bale), which had a super slick and modern and, y’know, *cough*Chicago-with-a-color-filter*cough* kind of look, THIS city really looks like it could give birth to the Batman, Penguin, the Riddler, Joker, Poison Ivy, Killer Croc, and the rest of the gang. if you told me there was a man eating crocodile-mutant man in the sewers of THIS Gotham? I would believe you. You tell me the Court of Owls and their creepy undead Talons haunt the buildings of this city? I’d believe you!!!

the city really just has that atmosphere. like some of the criminal element in Gotham (like in the beginning of the movie), i too would be paranoid about shadows when living in a modern city that also somehow manages to look like Dracula’s playground

the Riddler. man. what the hell. they made him so scary. I’m so glad they didn’t use the joker??? but.

dang. kudos to the actor for consistently activating my CRINGE and FIGHT response simultaneously

every. time.

i would like to punch the riddler, but like. never be within 20 ft of the guy. yuck. 

this Bruce’s bat suit. he really does look very rodent-like when flying

cryptid

raccoon. bat raccoon. 

if we ever get a robin, specifically Dick Grayson, this man won’t know what hit him

well-adjusted? well-groomed? public image? Social interaction outside of the mask? business meetings? Bruce Wayne: “Whomst???”

he does not care. at all.

wherever Lucius Fox is, he deserves many fruit baskets. possibly an all-expenses paid vacation to the Bahamas. poor man.

this bruce has also probably never heard of a haircut either.

i feel for you Alfred

yes this is very much the Bruce Wayne we should’ve expected.

for when this takes place in his timeline, yes, this Bruce wayne makes sense

man if he’s already met Talia, i gotta wonder what she saw in him

a mess of man

he’s perfect as Bruce Wayne as Batman

if they go ahead and show him eventually setting up the “Brucie” persona moving forward, it’s gonna be priceless

this is The Batman

he’s still early on in his career

but he’s definitely got the spirit 👍

  [THE ONLY OUTRIGHT  SPOILER BELOW]

oh my gosh i thought it was gonna be joker free. i stand corrected. 

it’s not mark hamill’s voice. or his laugh. the joker….is also young??? this is weird. unsettling. i am reserving judgement.

….but it IS weird.

[lazywonderlvnd]

*hesitantly steps in the box* Umm.. soo.. I was listening to Cruel Summer by Taylor Swift again and that song (is awesome btw if you haven't listened to it already) just gives me such MAJOR drarry vibes .. like -

" And I screamed, 'for whatever it's worth I love you, ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?' He looks up grinning like a devil. "

Like if that's not drarry I'd chomp my pillows. So .. *twiddling thumbs* could you pls write something with that line as a prompt?? Pretty please 🥺🥺🥺❤️❤️❤️ maybe use the song as inspiration.. idk? Whatever you like. ALSO, don't forget I STILL LOVE YOU that ain't changing yet and you haven't seen the last of me! Imma tail after you for eternity and you better take that as the threat it is! *throws love at you* BYE!! ❤️❤️ *vaults outside the box*

my sweetest most loved angel!! thank u so much for this prompt based on a BOP i was obsessed w when the album first came out. it got sm longer than it was meant to be, so it can be found on ao3 as well!! i hope u like it ilysm ❤️❤️❤️❤️

warnings for minor drug use (weed) and implied suicide of a minor character (lucius, extremely vague reference but pls be aware!)

rating: e word count: ~5k

When Pansy asked him how it started, Draco discovered that he didn’t know what to tell her.

Technically, though, it had started at Ernie Macmillan’s party in the beginning of summer, with the cloying scent of Freesias and Freedom Roses (“Imported from the States,” Ernie told Draco pompously, when he asked) and all those string-lights dangling from the cedar pergola, perennial balls of fire inside their clear bubbles like tiny trapped suns. Cheap beer in plastic cups, Marlboro cigarettes, and some stupid Muggle game ... darts.

Technically.  

* * * 

“Get off me, Potter,” Draco says in a failed whisper. He’s laughing and drunk and fuzzy warm under a sprawling summer’s night sky that looks like black paint. Potter tastes like Guinness every time he kisses him, and his hands are surprisingly soft. In direct opposition to his own command he pulls Potter in by the face and glues their mouths back together ravenously. The alcohol makes him sloppy (he likes it, though — the sloppiness of it) and Potter’s skin is warm where Draco slides his hand under an ugly Muggle band T-shirt to touch. 

Around the corner, he can hear music coming from the patio where nearly every single one of their former classmates are gathered, drinking and laughing and getting along famously with a much-needed buffer of five years between them and their Hogwarts days.

Much-needed for himself and Potter as well. Apparently.

He sees him sometimes, at get-togethers like this or around the Ministry, once or twice at a dinner party thrown by a mutual friend. They’re always cordial. He hasn’t insulted Potter to his face in five years.

Except for tonight, when he couldn’t help himself loudly drawing attention to the similarities between Potter’s hair and one of the shrubs in the garden. But they’re kissing now round the side of the house and because of that he’s quite glad for his slip. And it’s their five-year reunion, so. What would it be without some bickering between the two of them?

Potter presses him into the bricks and snogs him breathless, only he keeps grinning and laughing and ruining everything just when Draco starts losing himself in it.

“Quit laughing,” he scolds him. “You’re the worst, Potter. No etiquette at all.”

“That’s rude,” Potter says. His breath wafts across Draco’s mouth. His eyes are excessively green behind their round frames, which have not changed since their school days. The scar is mostly hidden beneath his wild fringe, save for the very bottom where it slashes neatly through a dark eyebrow and touches his eyelid. “I can’t help it, I’m pissed good and proper.”

His hand moves to Draco’s hip and even through the thickness of the alcohol coating his brain like a muffler he feels that touch clear and ripe as daybreak.

“So  that’s  why you’ve decided to snog me rather than …” He waves a hand vaguely, in lieu of the proper witticism with which he might normally have trounced Potter. “You know. Beat me to a pulp.”

“I only did that one time,” Potter says, grinning. Grinning and moving his thumb in circles on Draco’s hip. “And it was because you were being a twat. And I didn’t beat you to a pulp. You’re so dramatic.”

“Semantics,” Draco says. “I had a bloody nose.”

“And you deserved it.”

“Now who’s being rude?”

Potter kisses him again.

Guinness and Freesias.

* * * 

“Macmillan’s party,” he told Pansy. “He kissed me.”

“So that’s where you disappeared to.” She looked smug. Her inch-long nails were sharpened to a point and painted a glossy black, and she drummed them against her cheek, the way a cat flicks its tail. “I’m surprised you kept it from me this whole time.”

“Well,” said Draco, lowering his gaze to his glass of wine and watching it flirt dangerously with the lip as he swirled it. His cheeks felt warm, but he wasn’t embarrassed. “We snuck around.”

Right, maybe a little embarrassed. Mostly conflicted.

“Oh?” For a single syllable the laughter underneath was remarkably transparent.

He looked up, eyebrows lifted. “Yes,” he said a little defensively. “For obvious reasons. At first it was just sex. A lot of it, so he usually came here. Apparently Granger and the Weasel are notorious for popping round his place unexpectedly.”

* * *

He feels opened up all over again every time Potter fucks into him, unhurried and so careful. His hand is hot on Draco’s thigh, both of them sticky with sweat and come. This has to be their third round at least, and Draco’s sluggish brain insists it might actually be four.

An open window lets in the late afternoon air, humid and drowsy and perfumed heavily with flowers (a la Macmillan, Draco planted Freesias and Freedom Roses outside his bedroom window and helped them along to full bloom with some careful magic). Potter’s hair is damp with sweat — from exertion and the relentless heat of July — and Draco slides his fingers into it, tangles them and pulls the way he’s learned Potter likes. If he’s honest, he’s harboured a very secret and  very  desperate yearning to touch Potter’s hair since he was quite young. He doesn’t know why.

Well, maybe he knows why.

Potter makes a quiet, whimpered noise that curls Draco’s toes. He speeds up his hips, closing in on his orgasm and putting his face in Draco’s neck even though it’s too fucking hot for it.

“Fuck,” Draco whines. He tries to lift his leg higher, wrap it around Potter’s waist to get that perfect angle, but they’re too slick with sweat and he lets out a frustrated noise when it falls back to the bed. “Potter,” he says helplessly, arching into each thrust and shaking with the effort. This third (fourth?) orgasm is building too slowly, sitting there hard and stubborn and heavy in his gut and refusing to be coaxed to completion. He’s dripping with the effort, muscles quivering. “Please — I need —”

But he seems to have figured it out for himself. He scoots forward, lifting Draco’s arse higher off the bed and bending him nearly in half. The angle helps him go deeper and he’s suddenly nudging Draco’s oversensitive prostate every time he fucks back in.

“Right there,” Draco gasps, tensing as this new angle lights a fire under his elusive orgasm. His cock is leaking but he doesn’t have the strength or energy to get a hand around it. Potter’s grunting with the effort of fucking him, sweat dripping down his temples and making his neck and torso gleam. “Right there, god, right there, please, I’m so close —”

Potter braces himself and redoubles his efforts, and it’s like he’s reached inside Draco and sunk his claws into that building storm in his belly because suddenly it’s ripped right out of him in a colossal wave of euphoria that approaches too much, cock spurting untouched between them  .  Potter keeps moving inside him while he rides it out, and at some point he feels the warm, wet explosion of Potter emptying in him, mumbling incoherent things that include Draco’s name.

They come down together too. Draco is clutching Potter’s arms and trying to catch his breath and Potter is trembling and clutching him back like an anchor in a veritable ocean of sensation. 

It’s like this every time. 

When Potter drops down onto the bed beside him Draco rolls over and kisses him, long and deep and satisfying, and Potter reciprocates with the kind of intensity that is completely unique to him as a person.

“That one was particularly good,” says Potter, and Draco laughs.

When he feels like moving, he knows that Potter will get up and go to Draco’s kitchen and make tea for both of them, and he won’t need to ask what Draco likes, because he remembered after the first time. They’ll drink it naked in bed as the sun sets on another endless summer day and transforms before their eyes into a humid and pungent summer night, in the midst of which they will fuck at least three more times, and Potter will keep smelling like sweat and bergamot and boy, and Draco will keep feeling starved for him.

And they won’t talk about it.

* * *

“And?” Pansy said.

“And what?”

“You said ‘at first,’” she pointed out, and arched a groomed eyebrow. “When did it turn into more than just sex?”

Draco tamped down on a smile, because that would have been more emotion than he cared to show at the moment. To Pansy or to himself.

He swirled his wine again and took a long sip, stalling. He wanted — needed, really — to talk this out with her, but he was becoming aware of an uncomfortable heaviness in his chest which was suggesting to him that he didn’t want to share everything. Not because he was embarrassed, but, well … it was private. It was between him and Harry.

“There was this one night he came over later than he was supposed to because of work,” Draco said. The memory stirred some emotion. He hadn’t thought of it in a while. “He had this bloody huge takeout bag of Thai food.”

 * * *

He sets it down on Draco’s desk, takes out a container, and after toeing off his shoes drops sideways onto Draco’s bed with it and uses chopsticks to shovel in a mouthful of noodles. Draco watches this in awe.

“Want some?” Harry asks once he’s swallowed (small blessings). There’s grease around his mouth. “There’s a million other things in the bag but you have to get it yourself. I’m dead tired.”

Draco thinks of asking what the hell is going on, because they’re supposed to be fucking by now, but something stops him. Harry really does look exhausted but quite content eating his Thai food on Draco’s bed, and he doesn’t have the heart to berate him for it or remind him that they’re fuck buddies, not friends, and that if he’d wanted to eat and lounge about perhaps he should’ve stayed at home.

And the food really does smell good.

He gets up and fishes another container out of the bag that turns out to be some sort of heavenly-smelling marinated beef, which he brings back to the bed. Harry’s rolled onto his back and has the container of noodles balanced on his stomach.

“They thought they found a Horcrux on a raid,” he says. His voice is perfectly casual, but Draco thinks he can see something troubled in his eyes. He has one foot crossed over the other and  it’s bouncing anxiously; he doesn’t think Harry’s aware of doing it. “Wasn’t. Obviously.” 

“But they needed your expert advice to be sure.”

“Yeah.” Harry looks at him, then his food. “Is that the beef?”

“Yes it is.”

“Good?”

“Haven’t tried it yet.”

He opens the container and chooses a piece, but instead of lifting it to his mouth he follows some crazy impulse and hovers it over Harry’s instead.

“Open, Scarhead,” he says. Harry blinks but does it, and Draco drops it in. He smiles, then chews.

“Brilliant.”

* * *

“We ate it instead of fucking. It was the first time I realised something had shifted.”

“And you let it shift?”

The question gave him pause. He didn’t answer right away, mulling it over. It made it sound as if he’d had a choice, and that wasn’t quite right.

“It already had,” he said finally. “It wasn’t a matter of letting it; by the time I noticed, it had already happened. Otherwise he wouldn’t have come over with the food.”

“But you did let it continue,” said Pansy. She wasn’t antagonising him, nor accusing him of anything. She looked amused, but not in a way that was at his expense. Pansy was both a twat and a fiercely good friend, the combination of which meant she would do nothing more or less than hold up a mirror and force you to look at yourself, gruesome as the experience inevitably wound up being. “Even after you realised he had feelings for you.”

Draco swallowed. He’d not heard it said aloud before now.

“Yes,” he said. “It felt good. Knowing he fancied me.”

* * *

Harry’s shameless in his staring.

He stands in the doorway of the ensuite bathroom and watches Draco like he’s been invited to do so. Draco pretends not to notice, stretched out in a tub full of bubbles facing the opposite way. There’s incense burning, and candles. Harry is completely silent, but Draco could feel those eyes on him from across a crowded hall.

They fucked a few hours ago and fell asleep afterwards. Draco pretended not to think about it, but had actually made the conscious decision to let Harry continue sleeping when he woke up and decided he wanted a bath.

When he can’t take it anymore he opens his eyes and tilts his head back and a little to the side, just enough that he gets Potter in his peripherals.

“Well?” he says. 

“Well what?”

“Join me, won’t you?”

Harry snorts. Then there’s a quiver of magic in the air, and a small, utilitarian chair appears out of thin air beside the tub. Harry sits down in it. He’s holding the joint they’d only gotten halfway through earlier. 

He’s in his jeans and nothing else, all limbs and sparse chest hair, and when he crosses a leg over the other one, elbow resting on his knee as he hits the joint, Draco feels a bone-deep attraction to him that’s beyond physical.

“May I?” Draco asks. Harry hands it over and Draco inhales deeply before returning it. The humidity of the room mixes with the smoke and the smell of marijuana, pungent and cloying like the flowers. 

After a length of silence, Draco says, “Will you read me something?”

“Will I what?”

He takes his wand from the floor and Summons a book from the shelf in his room — one of his poetry collections comes sweeping in through the cracked door and into Harry’s lap. Harry sticks the joint between his lips and starts rifling through it with his glasses all fogged up. 

When he starts reading Byron (“I had a dream, which was not all a dream”) Draco smiles and sinks deeper into the hot water and bubbles, letting Harry’s voice lull him into a pleasant stupor. 

 * * *

“So you led him on,” said Pansy. “Because you liked his attention.”

He stared at her, then let his gaze drop to his wine again. Had he?

“It sounds bad when you say it like that.”

“Well,” she said, smiling wryly, “I’m only saying it as you’ve told it to me. Maybe if it sounds bad, it is bad. Some things are that simple, darling. Unless there’s more to it.”

“Like what?” he said, not looking at her. There was a touch of pouty defiance in his voice he knew Pansy would detect instantly. He heard her sigh.

“What exactly happened yesterday, Draco? You didn’t give me any context.”

“What context do you need?” he muttered. “He told me he loved me.”

* * *

They’ve finished an entire bottle of wine between them. He’s not drunk, but he’s pleasantly buzzed. Harry’s sprawled on his back, T-shirt rucked up just below his navel so Draco can see the dark trail of hair leading below his jeans. There’s something implicitly erotic about the movement of his chest when he breathes, his hands folded behind his head, one leg stretched the length of the bed and the other bent at the knee.

He opens his eyes suddenly and grins when he sees Draco looking at him. 

“That wine just made me tired,” he says.

“So go to sleep,” says Draco. He takes a last swig, emptying it, and sets the bottle aside on his night table. He stretches his arms over his head and arches his back, yawning widely, thinking perhaps he’ll give into the tempting allure of sleep as well when Harry says, “I told Hermione about us.”

So he’s not sleeping, then. His stomach clenches hard and a completely irrational sense of panic rises in his throat.

“Us?” he says slowly, sitting up straighter. “What ‘us’?”

Harry looks at him upside-down, then rolls over and rises to his knees. He stares at Draco blankly.

“‘What us?’” he repeats.

“Yes,” says Draco. “What ‘us’?”

“Us,” Harry says. His voice is lower than usual. The word is starting to sound weird and lose meaning. “You and me, Draco.”

“‘You and me?’ Harry, there’s no you and me. We’re just fucking. What do you … what do you mean, you told Granger? Told her what?”

Harry looks … well, he looks fucking crushed. And angry. Draco forces himself not to look away.

“I told her I’d been seeing you,” he says quietly. There’s something … not threatening, but close to it, in his voice.

“Sure,” says Draco. “I see you three times a week, sometimes four. I s’pose if you feel the need to fill Granger in on everything you do with every second of your day —”

“Shut up, Draco,” Harry says. “You know what I meant.”

Draco glares at him. He gets off the bed, slightly lightheaded from the wine, horrified by the emotions welling up inside him right behind the panic, and he points at his bedroom door.

“Get out,” he says. 

“Are you serious?”

“Go!” he says loudly, voice rising. “If you’re gonna start turning this into something it definitely is not then get out of my flat, Potter.” As usual the window is open, but it’s the third of September and getting chilly finally and Draco’s Freesias and Freedom Roses started wilting last week. There’s a chilly breeze coming into that room that is utterly barren of the sweet smells of summer he associates with Harry these days. “It’s time we ended this anyway,” he says. “Summer’s over.”

“So?” From his position kneeling on Draco’s bed Harry shouldn’t feel imposing at all, but he does. There’s no sparkle of humour in his eyes, none of the softness Draco’s gotten used to seeing there. He looks like someone who’s realised they’ve been betrayed.

Worse than that. Someone who’s been betrayed and realises they should have seen it coming.

“What the fuck does summer have to do with anything?”

“Ever heard of a summer fling, Potter? We’re not ‘seeing each other’.”

Harry finally gets off the bed. Draco’s stomach clenches again, more painfully this time. He doesn’t feel bad, he tells himself — this is Harry’s fault. His fault for making a big deal out of something easy and fun and, most of all, temporary. For ruining this with feelings. 

 “That’s not what this was,” Harry says. It’s not an argumentative tone; rather, he sounds disappointed. Devastated, and disappointed. And that look of betrayal, like he’s surprised but not …  that  surprised.

That hurts. 

“This was as real as it gets, Draco,” he says matter-of-factly. “You and I don’t have the capability of doing anything as shallow as a fling.”

“Well, Potter,” says Draco, straining to maintain his level voice, “congratulations, because that is the most disgusting, romanticised, Gryffindorian piece of shit I’ve ever heard.”

“Yeah?” He grabs up his wand from the bedside table and stuffs it into his jeans pocket. “Well here’s another: I love you. You complete fucking prick.”

Draco stares after him as he leaves the room, cowed for the moment. He hears Harry take the Floo powder off his mantle, hears the fire start, and then the sound of Potter disappearing. 

And he feels hollow suddenly.

* * *

“And he said it completely out of the blue?” 

Draco set his wine aside. He was suddenly feeling too sick to put anything else in his body.

“Sort of,” he said quietly, avoiding her eyes. “He was trying to make something out of nothing. He was just making a point, trying to guilt me, I don’t even think he meant it.”

Pansy said nothing for so long that Draco finally looked up. She had an eyebrow raised.

“Do you really believe that?” she said.

Draco didn’t answer right away. He glanced at the bottle of wine on the table and thought about the way it always tasted a little sweeter on Harry’s lips.

“I don’t know,” he said. “No. But it doesn’t change anything. It was a summer thing, not a … a relationship, for crying out loud. Like I’d date Potter.”

“Why not?”

Draco scoffed. “Why not? Pansy, please. He’s a …”

“A …?”

“He’s an idiot! He’s Potter!  He’s …” He couldn’t think of the right word, something bad enough to express the audacity, the gall , for Potter to think even for a second  that they could …

“Draco Malfoy,” said Pansy. She was smirking. “You love him too.”

Had he felt sick before?  Now he was going to be sick.

“I never would’ve imagined it,” she went on, seeming to take pleasure from his outrage and humiliation. The bint. “Look at you, you’re blushing! Oh my god,” she laughed. And then she stopped laughing, and instead the weight of her own words appeared to descend on her. “Oh my god. You do, don’t you? You are arse over tits for Harry Potter —”

He was up and out of his chair before she’d finished the last word, absurdly,  embarrassingly on the verge of tears all of a sudden. 

“Draco —”

“I’m glad this can serve as your entertainment for the week, Pansy,” he said. A tear rolled down his cheek — could he be any more histrionic? — and he brushed it away furiously. 

“Draco, no —”

“Call Blaise, tell him!” he shouted. “You two can have a good laugh over it —”

“Draco  —”

“Poor Draco’s  fucked himself over again, what a stupid wanker!” 

Pansy got up. He slapped her hand away when she reached for him, but she only came at him again and grabbed it this time when he swatted at her, enfolding it in both of hers. He closed his eyes and hiccoughed and two more tears came.

“Darling, will you please listen to me?” she said softly. It sounded eerily like his mother, which only made him feel young and childish. He tugged his arm away and she let him go, but he didn’t move any farther away. “I am  not  laughing at you,” she told him. “Blaise might, but that’s because Blaise has a black hole for a heart, Draco, the only emotion he’s ever felt is disdain.” Against his will, Draco chuckled wetly. Pansy smiled and took his hand again, tentatively. He allowed it. “ I think it’s lovely that you have feelings for him. I don’t understand what’s got you so upset, I mean … I know it’s Potter, but we’re not teenagers anymore, right? Who cares?”

Draco exhaled a long sigh.

“He let my father go to Azkaban,” he said softly, looking into her eyes. He saw comprehension dawning. “How can I be with someone who could’ve saved my father’s life and chose not to, Pansy?”

“No one could have saved your father, Draco,” said Pansy gravely. His throat was tight, swollen. He hated that he was hanging on her words, looking for truth in them,  wanting to hear something that would make this okay. “He would have done the same thing if they’d let him go back to the manor. It’s not your fault or your mum’s or Potter’s.”

“But —”

“But what?” she cut him off sharply. “Draco, please don’t let your father keep controlling your life from the grave! My god, you deserve happiness, don’t you see that? Even if it’s Potter! In fact, I … I think that could be really good.”

“What, being with Potter?”

“Yes, being with Potter,” she said. “Darling, I say this because I love you: you need to grow a pair of bollocks and start taking control of your own life. I’m not finished!” she added when he opened his mouth to retort. “I understand that it feels like a betrayal of your father, I do, and I’m not saying you can’t have your cherished memories of him, but Draco … you cannot live your life in his shadow, doing things because it’s what he’d want or wouldn’t want. I think that choosing to explore these feelings you have for Potter is the bravest and healthiest thing you could possibly do for yourself.”

He stared at her for a long moment, eyes wet though the tears had stopped falling. 

“What if it doesn’t last?” he said finally. “What if next week he realises it was a huge mistake?”

“First of all, I doubt that,” said Pansy with a roll of her eyes that was clearly meant to be teasing. “You said you’ve been seeing him all summer, that’s plenty of time to have gotten sick of you. And, even if that did happen, I still think it would be entirely worth that week of being disgustingly in love.”

“Do you?” he drawled.

“Yes! I do!” She picked up his discarded wine glass from before and held it up. “Does the effect of alcohol last forever?”

“No …”

“Of course not! And we don’t expect it to. We expect to have fun while we’re drunk and it’ll last as long as it lasts.”

“Dating someone isn’t like being drunk, Pansy,” Draco said sourly.

“Oh, that’s not the point ,” she huffed. “We don’t do things because we know they’ll last forever, we do them because we want to. In the moment.”

“Sounds irresponsible.”

“Well, of course it is,” she scoffed. “Love is completely irresponsible, that’s the fun of it, Draco. Now take this,” she shoved the glass of wine into his hand, almost spilling it. “Drink up, and then get your arse over to his flat and fix this.”

* * *

Granger opened the door. Draco sighed.

“Hello, Granger,” he said lamely. Her raised eyebrows said she was surprised and thoroughly unimpressed by his appearance.

“Malfoy,” she said.

“Is Potter in?”

“I guess that depends.”

“On?”

She looked at him, dark brown eyes impenetrable. Then she closed the front door behind her.

“What do you want?” she asked.

“To talk to him,” he said tightly. As if this whole thing wasn’t bad enough, now he had to pass a test to get past Granger the bridge troll. “I thought he told you —”

“He did,” she said flatly. “And about yesterday.”

“Well I’m here to apologise,” said Draco. Granger’s eyebrows lifted again. Still unimpressed. “And to tell him …” He sighed again and broke eye contact, willing himself not to give up, not to take this as a sign he should just go home and ream into Pansy for giving him such bad advice.

“Malfoy.” He looked up. Her voice was softer now, and her eyes seemed a little less hard. “What are you doing? You really hurt him, you know.”

“I know,” he said stiffly. “I said I’m here to apologise.”

“Well he doesn’t need an apology,” she said. “If you’re only going to let him down again —”

“I’m not.” He rubbed his forehead and looked at her again, exasperated, defeated. “I’ve … had some sense talked into me.”

She looked like it was the last thing she’d been expecting. 

“Have you?”

“Yes,” he said. “So would you please get him for me before I lose my nerve?”

It was the right thing to say. Her expression melted into something much softer and he fancied he even saw the beginnings of a smile.

“Can I ask who affected this change of heart?”

“Pansy,” he said. And, when Granger seemed taken aback, “She’s very wise when she feels like it.”

“I see. Well …” She still looked a bit conflicted, eyeing him and then putting her hand on the doorknob. “All right. I’ll tell him you’re here, anyway, but he was really hurt, Malfoy. I don’t know if he’ll want to hear it.”

“I’ll take my chances,” he said.

Granger eyed him another moment and then went back inside, shutting the door behind her. Draco only had to wait a minute before it was opening again, and this time Harry came out. The sight of him made Draco’s heart feel tender and sore.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi, Potter.”

He waited to see if Harry would say anything else but he didn’t. He only stared at Draco expectantly, arms folded, in all ways closed off.

“I came to apologise,” said Draco.

“Well you can keep it,” said Harry. “I don’t need an apology because you told me the truth.”

“It wasn’t the truth, Potter,” Draco said quietly. “Opposite, really.”

Harry was silent. Then, “You made me feel like shit, Draco.”

“I know. I’m sorry. You freaked me out, springing it on me like that.”

A beat, then two, and then suddenly Harry was dropping his arms and sighing and he looked at Draco with so much vulnerability he nearly had to turn away from it.

“I didn’t mean to tell you …” He licked his lips, scratched his arm. It reminded Draco that beneath everything, Harry was still the same awkward dorky leader-of-the-losers he’d always been, just with a bit more confidence now and the title of Official Saviour of the Wizarding World. “I wouldn’t have said that if … I was just angry.”

He didn’t need to ask what Harry was referring to.

“I know.”

“Not that I didn’t … I mean, I … I do —”

“Please don’t say it again,” Draco said. Harry laughed.

“Right. I just meant … I really do have feelings for you, Draco. Like … mad, crazy feelings, y’know? I don’t want it to be a fling.”

“It wasn’t a fling,” he said. He moved a little closer and Harry watched him carefully, eyes flickering once down to Draco’s mouth. “I didn’t even sleep with anyone else the whole time.”

“Well that’s good to know,” said Harry sardonically. But he was smiling, so Draco found himself smiling tentatively as well.

“I wanna be with you, Potter. Properly. I thought …” But he shakes his head, deciding that now isn’t the time to explain about his father. “I thought it was a stupid idea. Now I realise that it probably is, but that I don’t really care much. I’ve decided to ignore my better judgment this one time.”

“That’s quite Gryffindor of you,” Harry commented drily.

“Yes, well.”

“So I go against your better judgment, then?”

“Potter,” Draco sighed. “Please, I don’t mean it like —”

“I’m taking the piss, Draco,” Harry cut him off. He reached for Draco’s waist and pulled him close, and before Draco could get his breath back from a short, surprised intake of breath Harry’s mouth was on his, warm and familiar and soothing. He brought his hands to Harry’s face and kissed back without bothering to hide his overwhelming relief.

Harry chased his mouth when he pulled away and Draco breathed out a laugh, holding him at bay with a hand on his chest. 

“We have plenty of time,” he said. “D’you wanna come over later tonight, after your friends leave?”

“What? No, come in.” He took Draco’s hand and gestured with his head towards the door. “Please. It’s just Ron and Hermione. They know everything.”

“Really?” Draco drawled. “And you think Weasley won’t try to kill me?”

“I promise not to let him,” Harry grinned. “Please, Draco. You said you wanted to do this properly, right?”

He thought of what Pansy said about being irresponsible, and decided it was worth a try at least.

“Okay,” he said. Harry beamed and tugged him inside.

Towards his ultimate downfall or towards the beginning of the rest of his life, he didn’t know. That, as Pansy would have said, was the fun of it.

[fairestwriting]

title: half doomed and semi-sweet

word count: 5308

summary: Idia's bad luck comes back to haunt him again, being dragged into physically showing up to class and being assigned a group project involving a student from a different year, courtesy of Mr. Trein. His... "best friend", Kero Tricarenia, sees his distress in the situation, and swoops in to save him, though that might be what actually ends him instead of the project...

commissioned by @chibichibisha  , available on ao3 here ! tysm for the commission, i hope you like it! you have no idea how excited i was to write kero asjkdfsf-

my guidelines for commissions are here, in case anyone else is interested !

Of course that in the day Idia is made to actually show up to class, something like this happens.

The fact that it’s Trein’s class just makes it somehow worse. Of course, it’s not all bad, he gets to see Lucius napping on the teacher’s desk—! ...but, he also gets to be pestered by Cater the second he’s walking in, and then the second he’s walking out, plus, just the presence of all these people… Idia shudders just thinking about it.

He pulls his hoodie closer to his face, trying to shield it in vain. He just wanted to go back to his room. Trein was the worst for making him actually show up. He’d been attending classes through the tablet for so long, what was the issue with today specifically? Why couldn’t he just do it the way he always does? He just doesn’t get it—

“Before class is dismissed,” Trein starts in that voice of his, commanding yet with a hint of a drawl that makes Idia want to delve into eternal slumber. “I have an announcement to make. Due to recent events, the headmaster has assigned the teachers the task of building… teamwork, and solidarity, between students, even the ones in different years, and I’ve been chosen to apply that, so your monthly History assignment will work somewhat differently this time.”

Great. Awesome. These were his favorite words in the whole world. As if today couldn’t get any worse.

“I’ll need you to gather a pair or trio with students from different years, to build a mockup representing a historical event of your choosing. You’re supposed to inform me of your groups until tomorrow's class, and the deadline will be held two weeks from now, on February 13th. You’ll be presenting your works the day after.”

Idia feels the clammy hands of dread on both his ankles, threatening to pull him under. Of course this would get worse somehow. He exhales a deep sigh, burying his face on his hands… he’d have to email Mr. Trein about doing the assignment by himself later. And it’d be such an unpleasant conversation, with how he insisted on having students follow all these traditional learning methods.

Really, why the hell were they getting group projects now, out of all things? They had one foot out of school, basically. Fourth year barely had any classes, most of the students’ times filled up with internships and research so what did they get out of trying to “develop teamwork skills” within their students? None of these people would be talking to each other by the time they graduate, anyways… they were wasting resources to max out a stat that didn’t matter.

He tugs the hood of his jacket over his face again as he walks out of the classroom, sneaking outside like he’s avoiding to get scolded — The blue glow of his hair insisting on sticking out, Idia feels his heart race and squeeze while he makes his way across the crowded hallways. He swears he hears Cater’s voice calling for him as he leaves, too… but maybe he’s just making it up, because of how especially cursed he feels today.

What an awful morning, really. At least locking himself up with that MMO he’s gotten hooked on recently would feel even more cathartic.

After the nerve-wracking walk, Trein’s words poking at him like imps with their tridents — Him trying to figure out how to convince that teacher to let him do everything by himself, no presentation included, without having to actually face the guy — Idia finally gets back to his dorm. Finally.

He releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding — Just like in the fanfics, geez — when he steps into the lounge, though even the mostly vacant blue and white space felt a little oppressive now. Sure, he cared about his dormmates, they were fine people, but they were still people, and what he really needed now, was…

“IDIA!”

...within one second of the click of his door being unlocked, Idia is reminded once again that he never will know peace.

“K-Kero!” He yelps, suddenly overwhelmed by a hug, arms around his entire body squeezing him tight, maybe too tight— It’s a second before he remembers this is in fact supposed to be his room. “W-Wait, what are you doing here? That’s my room!”

Unleashed from the mighty grip, red eyes meet Idia’s as Kero’s head tilts, a smile on his face flashing his sharp teeth.

“I know that! I was looking for you.” He just announces, following right behind with that skip on his step as Idia enters and locks the door behind them. He hadn’t seen Kero in… how long, now? It’d been a while, that much he knew. Idia had been busy lately, with… “You finished that tournament yesterday night, right? How did you do? I got you that cake from the cafeteria you like to celebrate!” His questions are rapid-fire, tail wagging as he rushes towards Idia’s unmade bed to pick up the little packaged treat he’d gotten.

“You don’t even know how it went yet, but you’re already getting your hopes up.” Idia grumbles, but the second the package is placed on his hands, he does gracefully accept it. “Well, my team did win, so…”

“Yes! I knew you would!” Kero cheers, grinning again as he sits on his bed. He’s… so full of energy it’s hard to watch, Idia would say.

But, well, that would kind of be a huge lie.

“Yeah, thanks for leaving me be for a bit so I could practice.” He mutters, moving to sit on his desk chair. The package makes a crinkling plastic noise while he messes with it, opening it to reveal a slice of strawberry shortcake — That has him glancing at Kero for a second, a fuzzy feeling taking over.

...because that’s just what his emotions do now.

It was stupid, Idia’s sighing tiredly just thinking about it — When it started was beyond him, but for some reason or another, something keeps pulling him towards Kero. It’s not exactly a big deal, some sort of soul-binding string of fate or something like that, but even when he’s not there physically, Kero lingers, flashes of sharp teeth and boisterous laughing in Idia’s mind. It’s not a big deal! But it’s like Kero had hanged around him so much he left a mark.

And Idia doesn’t really hate that. He stares at the cake in his hands, and thinks of Kero smiling as he got it for him, without any sort of request, just because he saw the cake and remembered that he liked it, and his mind stresses just how much he doesn’t hate that.

(...well, it was a sort of doomed thing, they would never move on from this strange affectionate friendship, because Idia isn’t going to… tell Kero he’s crushing on him, or anything like that. That’d just screw everything up. And what he has now isn’t actually bad at all. Really, it’s fine if Kero never understands. It’s fine. )

“Are you… good, though? Do you need anything?” Kero asks, snapping him out of the messy daydreams with another good natured tilt of his head — He’s a dog alright. “You… just look kinda gloomy and stuff.”

Idia snickers, shaking his head. “Yeah, like I ever look different.” He mumbles, and takes a bite of cake. It’s sweet, he thinks, making a surprised noise as he wonders when the last time he had it was… he licks some whipped cream off his fingers. “Mm, this time is different though. Something with a group project from Mr. Trein… tires me out just to think about it.” He sighs. But Kero’s ears perk up, pointing straight upwards.

“Oh! That, yeah. He told 2-D about it today too.”

“Yeah. This sucks. I’m just gonna… find a way to work by myself.” Idia shakes his head, sinking on his chair a little further. He bites into the cake again. “You think Mr. Trein knows how to read emails?” He snickers, but the thought of having to meet him face-to-face makes his skin crawl. “...ugh, I d-don’t wanna have to talk to him during office hours…”

Kero hums in slightly concerned acknowledgement, plopping down on his bed with attentive eyes. Idia finds himself in a weird wondering of how it felt like to sit down when you were a beastman. Did it hurt his tail or something? It’s wagging against the mattress, though. His ears point to opposite sides while he looks up vaguely. Idia muses about what he might be thinking about.

“Well, you could always do it with me! They said to get one of your underclassmen, right.” Kero suggests, and… Idia swears he sees his tail wag a little harder, but that could very well just be a trick of the light. “I can do the presentation too, and I’m good with building things, so…” He grins. “Plus, you won’t have to… talk to Mr. Trein.”

Idia hums through a mouthful of cake. Well, doing the project with Kero would certainly be better than with someone he didn’t know. However, it’s…

His eyes linger on Kero’s expectant form on his bed, smiling so cheerfully. He’s very aware of the couple feet of distance between them right now, and even like this, Kero’s presence does things to his heart… that’s bad, so bad, he thinks, it’s hard to ignore how his heartbeat is just a tad faster now, summed with this different flavor of nervousness that just seemed to simmer in his blood now… yeah, it’s no good.

“I m-mean, I guess I wouldn’t mind that.” Is what he stutters out. Kero beams.

Stupid cute Kero. This isn’t helping Idia convince himself none of this is a big deal.

“Yeah! If you’re doin’ a project you might as well do it with your best friend, right?” He says. Here he is again with the best friend talk… oh, if only he knew. “We can have fun with it too. Actually, I can have fun with everything as long as I’m with you, heh.”

Idia feels heat creeping up his neck. Stupid cute Kero! “Ugh, you d-don’t gotta be embarrassing about it.” He mumbles, eyes averted. The cake finished with one last bite, Idia places the empty package on his desk, licking leftover cream off his fingers again. “We’re just putting some annoying mockup together. It’s not a big deal. If we add some simple machines to it to make it cooler it’ll already be higher-res than everyone else’s, it’s just an easy A. Everyone else’s just gonna use magic, I bet.”

“Yeah, obviously. I mean it doesn’t have to be annoying, though.” Kero comments. “We’ve gotta choose a historical event, right? Do you have any ideas?”

“Uhhh. The industrial revolution of the Isle of Lamentation? That’s… pretty much all I paid attention to this year, anyways.” He shrugs. Trein’s classes were boring, naturally. And they were so early in the morning, too… his tablet may have been there most of the time, but Idia himself was passed out on his bed.

“I think that works! We’ll have to make a bunch of stuff for the machines. But that’ll be fun.”

Idia hums. He’s thinking about these machines, actually, the miniature factories they could put together. The blueprints begin to write themselves up rather quickly. “We’d blow their little minds if we just had some… smoke coming out of the chimneys, some gears spinning around. Fuhihi, our mockup might be the best.” With his head in the clouds — Or the laboratory, rather — he finds himself grinning, waving a finger in the air. “Hey, Kero, what do you th… huh?”

And Kero isn’t on his bed anymore. He’s right there, in front of him.

Before Idia can say anything about this (Kero right in front of him, leaning in closer, he feels so cornered, his heart might stop!) Kero leans in even further, a big hand coming up to his face and (He’s going to die, definitely, he’ll die right here.) and he wipes off some whipped cream from near Idia’s lips.

“You had some on your face! Heheh.” He chuckles, licking it off his thumb. Idia feels like his blood pressure has just plummeted, or… or maybe it just did the opposite, how is he supposed to tell? His face feels so hot there’s no way his brain is getting the proper oxygen at all, he can barely think—!

“G-Give me a warning before you do something like this!” Idia wheezes, high pitched like a squeaky toy, and Kero just laughs again, grinning with this hint of mischief. “I didn’t even see you move!”

“Yeah, ‘cause you were distracted? I’m happy you’re excited about the project, though. I think it’s cute.” He says outright, and Idia… Idia just puts his hands on his face, averting his eyes with intent. Why does Kero have to be... so... much? “C’mon, you can sit with me on the bed. We can talk better like this.” A strong hand grabs at his wrist, easily looping around it as he pulls at Idia, making him squeak again as he’s dragged towards the bed.

“This doesn’t even make any sense!” Idia complains, but Kero tugs him towards the bed with no effort at all, and he just accepts his fate, huffing like it’d ease the warmth crawling all over his face. “Ugh, a-anyway, I was talking about the factories we’d put on the mockup… I thought of having some machines with exposed insides, with the spinning gears would be good, and conveyor belts that function…”

As he launches into explanation, Kero nods, making this unbreakable eye contact. Idia has to stop and take a deep breath every couple minutes, the situation somehow overwhelming. It feels like his condition just got a little worse every day, huh.

(Well, it’s fine. He could just avoid him if things got bad. Though… he doesn’t like thinking about this, recalling the week before the game tournament even. It’s kind of stupid, if he’s just making Idia nervous why does he have this need to keep him around? As expected, emotions make little to no sense...)

“...so, basically that’s what I thought.” Idia ends the explanation. Kero still has his attentive look on his face, almost like it froze there. “Did you pay attention?”

“Nah. I was just looking at you while you talked, ‘cause you looked so pretty.” Kero leans in with a smirk (Can he please stop trying to kill Idia, he’s just gotten down to a normal-ish heart rate again!) that then turns into one of his usual friendly smiles. “Kidding! I did, yeah. Do you wanna start it tomorrow?”

“You…! Uh, um, I don’t know. I wanna play my new game.” He stumbles with speaking, but it still comes out. At least. “We could probably finish that in, what, two days at most? If you don’t mind going to the lab late at night.”

“Roger that. For Idia, I’ll go to the ends of Twisted Wonderland!” He declares, fist thumping against his chest with a proud grin. “I’ll get us your snacks too. Can’t have you going hungry. But now I gotta go to track.”

Idia blinks. Already? He remembers that club meetings do in fact exist. He’d been skipping on his lately so he ended up kind of… forgetting them. Seeing Kero go, though, it’s…

“R-Right, I hope you, uh… enjoy yourself.” He stutters. Then he wants to hit himself on the face, really, what kind of stupid farewell was that? Just say bye and go back to your games, idiot. Luckily, Kero doesn’t seem to mind it.

“Yeah, yeah, I will!” He chimes, getting up from the bed — Leaning down a little, he puts a hand over Idia’s flaming hair, ruffling it to his surprise. “I’ll see you, okay? Literally. I’m coming over again later, ‘cause after all this time I’m not leaving my best friend alone!”

Idia feels frozen in place while Kero pets him, eyes zeroed in on that grin — Before he leaves, and he exhales. Again. That breath he didn’t know he had been holding.

He doesn’t play the game yet. Instead, he lays face down on the bed and screams into the pillow, whatever feelings had been simmering while Kero was around just exploding the second he leaves. Great Seven, he was so stupid. Both of them, actually.

Kero was stupid for not seeing how much this crush was clearly consuming him, and Idia… Idia was stupid for getting involved in any of this at all, in so many ways and for so many reasons, but he just can’t bring himself to stop now.

He swears it’s not that big of a deal. But it’s a lie, obviously. Clearly.

. . .

Once he’s back into his room after practice, Kero shuts his door behind him, and he laughs.

He feels the strain on his body from the running, sure, but every bit of it is somehow also filled with so much energy — With his hands on his face like how Idia does when he’s shy, he grins so much his cheeks hurt with the pulling. His heart won’t stop racing.

Who let him be so adorable!

He knew they’d end up doing this project together, of course. When Trein mentioned it’d involve students from different years, Idia was the first person Kero thought of! But the reality still makes him so giddy. To think he’d have a chance to do a project with him! He’s really been too lucky these days. Trein was… something else, to him, but with something like this, he might be willing to overlook the fact that the guy was absolutely terrifying.

Well, what matters is that he gets some more time with Idia — Even better, they’d be alone together! — The tournament week sucked, straight up. Kero ran some errands for him but it just wasn’t the same! Though he didn’t mind this sort of caretaking either, Idia barely took breaks. He didn’t even tell him much about the game he was playing, actually. Kero was basically crawling up the walls with how bored he’d gotten.

But that’s irrelevant now.

Still grinning and laughing to himself with all that burst of energy running through his skin, Kero hops over to his desk — With how he was, Idia would probably have some blueprints for the machines ready soon, but this was a nice chance to impress. He gathers some parts and tools, and gets to work.

...work that takes longer to complete than it usually does for him, but as expected, through the following days, Idia texts him vague guidelines on what their mockup should be like, ideas and half-baked blueprints that they discuss both through the phone and when he shows up at Idia’s place, and when the fated day of getting together at Ignihyde’s laboratory arrives, he has all those trinkets on his desk. He’s so ready.

ill see you there at 2, Idia’s text reads, bring the stuff i told u to make

Yes, yes, right away! Kero smiles bright as he gathers the miniature machines into a shoe box he’d gotten for them. He can feel his tail wag with excitement even as he carries it through the gloomy late-night corridors.

The door opened with a bang — Oops, he definitely handled it too roughly — Kero chimes as soon as he sets foot into the lab. “Idia!” He calls when he arrives. “I’m here!”

“Eek!” Idia, who was already leaned over the table, spreading scratchy blueprints and machine parts on it, is startled in a jolt. “D-Don’t sneak up on me like this! Geez…”

“Heheh, sorry, sorry.” Kero laughs, setting the box near the other items on the table, which Idia eagerly turns to inspect, complaints or not. Well, if that was the case, he’d inspect Idia for a bit too. He was looking unusual today, after all! Without that heavy jacket of his, wearing his lab wear and striped shirt. Kero’s heart leaps. “You’re looking good today, huh! ‘s unusual to see you looking like this, like… one of these R cards from your gacha games, or something.”

Kero feels proud of himself for the comment — Hey, Idia, look at me, I pay attention to your rambling! But Idia makes an offended noise instead.

“T...The R cards are the common ones, stupid.” He scoffs, giving him a narrow eyed look, but there’s still a soft flush of pink over his cheeks. “Ugh, I can’t believe I let you spend time with me when you don’t know that.”

Well. Kero tried, all he can do is laugh about it. At least he didn’t miss the compliment entirely! “Ehh, you do it ‘cause we’re best friends and you love me!” He says. “C’mon, we should get started on this already.”

“...y-yeah, yeah, whatever.” Idia shakes his head, but when he turns his face towards the table to look at their work in progress, there’s a slight smile on his blue lips that Kero couldn’t possibly miss. “Did you make the conveyor belts? I think I forgot to send you anything on these, couldn’t decide what material would be better for them…”

Moments like these are just so… so everything. Kero can’t find the words to describe how happy he is to be around Idia and be able to say things like that! Though, he feels it’s not exactly enough… even if all of this does feel nice, and he’s grateful for it.

(Well, he has a crush on Idia, that much he knows, so he guesses that’s something to be expected, in a way? He’s heard his classmates talking about the being unable to get enough related to someone so it was just part of it, probably. What they have now is good, straight out of his dreams even! Just… feelings are weird, aren’t they? He keeps wanting more, though he doesn’t know exactly what would sate this hunger.)

“Oh, I did rubber on the top and some of that light metal for the parts. I thought it’d be better if we don’t make it too heavy!” Kero replies, digging around for his own lab gear he’d brought. They might have to do some welding today, so it was always good to be careful.

(Plus, they got to match outftits!)

Idia nods, focused gaze on a miniature engine. “Ohh… huh. That’s good, actually. I think this might be easier than I thought.” He mutters. “We have all the parts to build the interior of the factory… I guess we could put that together tonight, and tomorrow we can get the rest? For the outside, I guess. If we just focus on the factory instead of the, uh, social repercussions or something like that, Trein might deduct points.”

He feels his ears deflate just a little at the teacher’s mention. “Tell me about it.” Idia passes him the engine, a silent command for him to get to work linking it with the other right parts. “Do you want me to get the stuff for the scenery from the store?”

“Yeah, sure. Would be helpful.”

Kero smiles at him, and for a single silent moment they’re putting the machine parts together. Engines and gears and a seemingly endless stretch of conveyor belts, wires and such hidden on the inferior part of the styrofoam slab the mockup was being built on.

“...hey, is that the battery?”

“Yup! Just gotta charge with magic whenever you wanna see it working.”

Idia turns it around on his hands, looking at it from every angle, making a humming noise to himself…

Huh, Kero is suddenly very aware that they’re all alone in that laboratory.

Maybe it’s because of how Idia looks at the small object, or how he touches it with this utmost care one wouldn’t think he has. It’s weirdly easy for other people to assume Idia was lazy, Kero recalls, and it was something he never really understood. He was such a diligent person, actually, but people couldn’t see it right because he didn’t put effort into things people commonly worked hard in. That makes him feel sort of bitter inside, he thinks, but also proud in a way.

He’s the only one who knows Idia this closely, it comes into Kero’s mind, and a smile sprawls across his face.

“...w-what? Why are you looking at me like that?” Of course, Idia notices. The pinkish glow on his face before turns into something more like strawberry red, and… agh, what the hell, Kero’s smile gets bigger.

“It’s ‘cause you’re so cute, of course!” He says without missing a beat. How many times has he called Idia cute now? Far too many to count. But he can’t stop, and it never feels like enough to show just how god damn adorable Idia was to him. It was such a crazy feeling, really.

“Gh… and you’re e-embarrassing, as always.” Idia responds as he averts his eyes. “We’ve gotta finish this as soon as possible, y’know, now’s not the time for...t-this.”

“What do you mean with this?” Kero asks amidst a laugh. Idia looks at him with this cranky sort of expression and his heart feels like it’s about to take off and fly, wow. “You asked me a question and I answered it!”

“Yeah, you answered it while being a jerk.” Idia mumbles, getting back to unscrewing something. Kero doesn’t get what he mean with it exactly but, well, he always says stuff like this.

“I mean it, though! I think you’re really cute.” He says, it’s so easy to say things like that, they end up just coming out on their own, even when he’s trying to put his brain cells back into work like Idia wants him to. “I tell you that all the time! D’you not think you’re cute?”

Idia glances at him with wide eyes. “I...n-no? What in the Lord of the Underworld makes you think I’m c-cute?” He asks, voice almost an octave higher.

Something about this strucks Kero differently. Is that a rhetorical question? It doesn’t matter. He wants to answer.

“Well, do you want me to tell you?” He suggests, and his heart is racing. It takes just a little bit of effort to ask something like this, it’s not quite having to hype himself up for it, but… well. What’s with this mood anyways? Idia’s hands are on his flushed cheeks, gloved fingers ready to cover up his eyes, like he usually does when he’s flustered — And here’s something to add to the list already, wow.

“I-I, um.”

“If you don’t say no I’m gonna tell you.” He looks straight into Idia’s eyes… such a nice shade of yellow, an amber-gold. Kero doesn’t always mean to tease, but now he does. He has a strong impulse to do it, a determination like he’s rushing towards the finish line in track — What sort of face would Idia show him if he told him everything? “Three, two, one…you lost your chance to say no! I’m gonna tell you.”

Idia squeaks like he got jumpscared, but he doesn’t object to any of it. Kero’s excited — He takes a step closer, and takes it upon himself to touch Idia’s hair again, because he absolutely couldn’t get enough of how it didn’t burn him.

“First of all, I know you hate it since it sticks out so much, but your hair is really cute.” He says, tucking a lock of hair behind Idia’s ear, feeling him shrink and tense under the light touch — Would he do that if Kero touched him more? If he wrapped his arms around Idia’s waist and held him close? “It’s so bright and pretty, and the bangs look so nice on you, they’re kinda messy and long but in a way that’s adorable.”

Indulging himself a little further, he lets his hand ghost over Idia’s bangs, brushing them to the side and watching them fall back into place. Idia’s face is fully red now. The hair doesn’t feel like much to the touch since it’s fire, actually, but, something about it…

“Second! You have a cute smile!” Kero chimes. He’s supposed to retract his hand now, but — It just stays on Idia’s cheek. And he finds that he really doesn’t want to take it off there. “When you talk about the things you like, and you get all excited about them and start grinning… it’s really cute, actually. I like it when I see you all full of energy.”

Idia’s eyes dart around. Are his hands shaking? Kero eyes at them briefly, before taking one into his — Unable to stop himself again — and the latex of his glove meets Idia’s, watched by wide amber eyes as he laces their fingers together. Shaking, indeed, but he was able to steady them.

“Third… related to that, how your hands move when you’re rambling. I stare at them a lot. That’s how much I love to see you all excited about stuff.”

His voice had fallen softer. The coldness of the laboratory seems to just fade. Kero’s heart feels…

“Fourth...” He starts, but no words come to him. He just stares at Idia’s face, his eyes, the blue tint of his lips. There’s more to say, obviously, but he can’t think of it, and he— “...can I kiss you?”

Somehow there’s no recoil time, no surprised noise on Idia’s part, and though he loves his shyness and how it shows through, he finds that he loves it even more when he’s expecting something like this, when he wants it. The shaky, uncertain nod is all he needs to give a name to that hunger he’d been feeling.

Ah, he was in love, everything be damned.

Kero doesn’t hesitate. One hand on his cheek and the other holding his, his lips meet Idia’s, his heart now soaring completely. If he looked back on it now he’d probably find it sort of awkward, Idia’s lips are chapped and the sharp teeth felt strange against each other, but none of this matters when he feels so euphoric, when Idia just melts into his kiss, eyes fluttering shut.

He doesn’t know how long it lasts. The brief pauses to breathe aren’t enough to actually do so, but neither of them seem to mind. The held hands unlace, Idia’s coming up to Kero’s neck to urge him closer, Kero’s on Idia’s waist like he’s dreamed.

When they pull away, both breathless, Kero is grinning, and Idia looks dazed, his eyes glossy, at least for a moment before he seems to realize what they’ve just done.

“O-Oh my...we.” He squeaks, freezing in Kero’s embrace. “W-We, we just…”

“Hey, it’s cool!” Kero assures, and he pulls him a bit closer, now causing a small shriek. “I love you, you know.”

“Y-You…” Idia stutters. How long would it be until he was able to string sentences together again? Kero doesn’t have an exact estimate, but, well, this was fine too. Especially as his tension drops, and he hides his warm face on Kero’s shoulder. “...you’re the worst? You’re so embarrassing I could die.”

“That’s a quick recovery, huh.”

“S-Shut up!” Idia whines, but he stays. He stays, and Kero holds him so close that his happiness feels like it’s overflowing, and the cravings from before are just slowly satisfied. “I… I, um.”

“Tell me.” A hand on the side of Idia’s face, he pulls his face upwards, making him look into his eyes again — Would he ever get enough of this, though? They’re so close. “Do you love me too, Idia?”

Idia hesitates, an embarrassed noise leaving him.

“I… I do.” He mutters — And he smiles. “You idiot.”

Kero smiles, his feelings actually overflowing in how he hugs Idia even tighter, and he laughs.

The project could be finished tomorrow, anyways.

[sparrowsabre7]

Ok this was in my drafts from ages ago and I forgot to post so it’s here now: 

So with Arkham Knight completed I wanted to discuss the story and some of the things I liked about the plot.

For my money Arkham City is the most entertaining of the series plot-wise. It is wide in scope, incorporating a large group of Batman’s rogues, with a lead villain who has a commanding presence. It is the quintessential Batman plot, full of twists, focusing on his dynamic with the Joker and is a big ‘ol actionfest.

Arkham Knight’s plot on the other hand is quite pedestrian by comparison looking at the villain plot: Scarecrow wants to take down Batman and cause chaos in Gotham and a mysterious new villain appears to help. From this standpoint, Arkham Knight is nothing special. However, as a character study of Batman, it goes much deeper than any of the previous games, and deeper even than any of the films. Most of those dealt with “Why does Bruce Wayne become Batman?” whereas Knight asks the question “What does it mean to BE Batman?”

In this respect “Be the Batman” is more than just a marketing tagline. We really delve into what makes Batman and Bruce Wayne tick and their relationships with the world, their allies, and enemies.

We’re going to delve into big spoiler territory now so be ye warned.

Batman in this game is in an interesting place. Crime is supposedly lower than ever when Scarecrow’s plan starts falling into place, yet he’s hitting criminals harder than ever, working tirelessly in his war on crime. His modifications to the Batmobile make this immediately apparent, adding numerous heavy weapons and armour. One of the unlockable Arkham stories indicates that adding more weaponry has been something Batman has fought for years, according to Lucius, but he had a change of heart some point between City and Knight. We learn soon enough that Batman is on borrowed time. His blood is still infected with Joker’s own and is actually beginning to turn him. This is his last assault on crime, one final push if a cure cannot be found. As a result, he is pushing his allies further away than ever. This alienation was seen in a small way in the epilogue DLC “Harley Quinn’s Revenge”, keeping Robin at arm’s length and mostly avoiding contact with his allies entirely.

This is one of the key themes of the whole game and, personally, if I were to choose one word to sum up Arkham Knight it would be “family”. “Asylum”, “City”, and “Origins” were all solo efforts on Batman’s part, with some input in his ear from Oracle and Alfred, and a brief appearance by Robin. This is the first game to really have the Bat-family on board proper and this really informs a lot of the game and Batman’s motivations.

He pushes them away because he knows he’s dying. He pushes them away because he wants them to get used to the idea of him being gone. Most importantly, he pushes them away because he believes this will keep them safe. This is underlined when Scarecrow’s fear toxin kicks in. Thanks to the hallucinations provided by it, we are shown two of Batman’s greatest failures in his eyes, along with his raison d’etre: the crippling of Barbara Gordon, the torture and murder of Jason Todd, and the death of his parents. The former two are clearly never far from the dark knight’s thoughts and show why he genuinely does fear for his allies safety. This ends up, in the obvious ironic twist, putting them in greater danger. By keeping them at arm’s length and withholding his plans, the Batman is a less effective force. He doesn’t consider that they are safest together, working as a team. His allies come to his rescue a couple of times during the course of the game, Nightwing saving him from Penguin’s thugs, Catwoman saving him from an unwinnable fight against The Riddler, Oracle aiding him during the defence of the GCPD and Robin not saving him per se, but defusing some of the Johnny Charisma’s bombs while Batman is unable to move.

Another key subplot is Batman vs Joker. Even after his death, through his blood and the fear toxin, Joker is resurrected as a hallucination, a dark Jiminy Cricket pestering and needling the caped crusader at every turn. This is the ultimate Joker, no less potent for not being “real”. He represents everything Batman hates and fears, because he is not only The Joker, but the darkest parts of Batman’s mind, all the what ifs, the maybe should’ves, all of this tumbles out of Joker’s mouth, taunting the dark knight with his own insecurities. It shows Batman’s human side a lot more than any previous game, shows he can be afraid, he does have doubts, can fail, can falter. This is something which clearly plays across his mind throughout the game and leads him to the ultimate conclusion of the game which I will touch on in a bit.

The Joker has always been key to the Batman mythos. He was that in Batman #1 so nearly as long as the Batman has been in existence. Having him manifest as a facet of Batman’s subconscious is both a neat narrative trick (and way to skirt the “Joker is dead” thing without cheapening the end of “City”) and a useful dynamic in explaining who Batman is. Much of his existence has been spent battling The Joker and it’s clear that there is a side of Batman in “Knight” that almost misses him in a sense. His presence also plays up the yin-yang of their relationship and eventually culminates quite literally in a battle in Batman’s psyche.

Near the game’s ending Scarecrow unmasks Batman and injects him with a heavy dose of fear toxin. This causes Joker’s personality to be brought to the fore but at the same time empowers Batman’s own power of fear, showing the clown prince of crime his own greatest nightmare: being forgotten. This is ultimately delivered personally by Batman, bursting from the shadows of his own mind and subduing the Joker side, locking him away forever, enforcing this with the time tested phrase “I am vengeance, I am the night, I am Batman.” This is said, as another blogger pointed out, as much to himself as to The Joker. This is a declaration that he is Batman, he is no longer Bruce Wayne. To paraphrase “Batman Begins”, as Bruce Wayne he can fail, be killed, and simply die, which is when we come to the ending.

Upon the final villains being rounded up he initiates the Knightfall protocol and removes his mask. This is a clear symbolic gesture as he is leaving Batman behind on the rooftop with the Batsignal and reverting to Bruce Wayne. He flies back to Wayne Manor and it explodes, destroying the whole building. It’s not made explicit but it’s fairly evident that Bruce has faked his death, very publicly killing Bruce Wayne, now that he has been revealed as the alter ego of Batman. Gordon’s narration states that “this is how the Batman died” but it’s really how Bruce Wayne died.

The final scene shows Thomas, Martha and young Bruce Wayne stand-ins walking down an alley past a theatre, visually recreating Batman’s origin. There’s a gunman, there are broken pearls, this is the birth of Batman as we remember. This time however, Batman already exists. A shadow appears on the rooftop behind the criminals, towering high before spreading shadowy wings and fiery demon eyes alighting as it swoops towards them and cuts to black. It’s clear this is more than a symbolic statement as the criminals react to this “Knightmare” and are clearly terrified. Ultimately it’s up to interpretation, but I think, either it is The Batman in his purest form, shed of the Bruce Wayne identity, free to be more than human (with the use of Scarecrow’s fear toxin apparently), or it simply a psychological manifestation. After Scarecrow’s gas flooded Gotham’s streets, perhaps the residual effects left a lingering memory of Batman that was burned into their consciousness.

Either way it’s a true and final realisation of Bruce Wayne’s goal for the Batman. To become something eternal, supernatural even, that will watch over an protect

[askmrsmalfoy]

Are you looking for places to visit, Lady Malfoy? A little bit of advice, perhaps it would be wise to avoid the castle in Volterra, in case you ever come to Italy. It's just that if Lucius were to meet Caius Volturi, it's possible that you may never see your husband again. They would spend the eternity bonding over their appearances, feeding each other's egos and trading hair care procedures to ensure, quote their hairs would stay forever framing their faces in perfectly shining long waves of soft long blond hair quote, their combined egos would grow so much that most of the residents of the castle will be out of space and forced to flee the premises to avoid the antics of the two drama queens, the only ones able to stay would be Lord Aro (he is a bigger drama queen and also insane, maybe he could meet your sister), and Lord Marcus (he hadn't felt a single thing ever since his wife left, Aro has him under mind control *Imperius* for ages, ever since he killed Marcus wife). I wonder how this castle is still standing, honestly, maybe I shoud run away with my husband's entire fortune and disappear for a few years - Athenodora (Caius very very tired wife).

I’m not entirely sure what you’re talking about, but I’ll make sure we never do travel to this place. We already love so many other things in Italy, no reason to seek out this nonsense. 

If you are considering leaving your husband and taking his fortune, I can indeed recommend. I would never ever consider this, but a dear friend of mine has done it several times with very satisfying results. 

[shadowdianne]

As a courtesy to Harry's friendly relationship with the Malfoy family, she invites Narcissa to her wedding day... Sometimes falling in love happens when you see someone in a new light. Or her wedding dress. About to walk to her kind but totally-wrong-for-her husband-to-be.

Let’s try to do this. I’m already writing the author’s note and I’m feeling paralyzed. Heh. This is going well.

At any case, let’s see if I still have it in me, alright? Fingers crossed and eternal apologies if this sucks. Brain doesn’t seem to work properly ever since I stopped writing fic prompts.

She had considered on not answering to the invitation, fingers curled around the tasteful paper in where the names had been written with ink that would change from gold to black if she decided to RSVP. She wouldn’t have gone as far as admitting she was nervous, her magic pooling around her, climbing through the walls of a manor that felt far too big and far too constricting at the same time ever since the end of the war. Yet, as she had smoothed the invitation, careful on how her nails scraped the very corners, she hadn’t quite been able to shake the tightening sensation at the back of her throat.

Many words had been spilled about how the magic community have taken the news of the war being over, many more regarding the incessant trials, the perception of them being too much and yet not enough for the public. Her story, the one that should have been a note forgotten in the wind of time about how she had knelt next to Harry Potter and decided to lie through her teeth, mentioned far too much for her liking until the words and the actions had blurred together in a vortex of memories that she wasn’t entirely too sure were hers anymore to have. If she now closed her eyes tight enough, after two anniversaries of that day, she still could smell the musky scent of the forest around them: air tinted green and red due to the spells, energy blast sweeping at every robe that moved in unison in order to aid the one they had called their Dark Lord as she was instructed to check if the Boy who had survived still breathed. She could remember her decision, her question, the gritted way in where she had gotten her answer.

She had been called brave by some, multifaceted by others, she had been called traitor, given the title of someone who would betray anyone. She had never felt inspired. Nor righteous. She had done what she needed to do at the time. Which, in the end, had been the same reason why she had looked up towards where portraits of old names of the House of Malfoy had hung and, while pressing her lips into a thin line, had murmured her agreement to the invitation, the swirling ink transforming its color the silent yet deafening answer she got from her final decision.

It wasn’t, she had considered while perusing through the clothes she would wear to the wedding as if she felt compelled to say yes. Not exactly, the words in the invitation on itself had been polite, perfectly thought. But she knew that, in the same way, she hadn’t needed to be present in every trial performed to what had been the Death Eaters after hers and Lucius had passed -with him being sent to Azkaban- and yet she had attended  them all out of that very same sense of duty, showcasing that she was, indeed, someone else beside being her now ex-husband shadow, she needed to go all the same. For herself. For the boy, now a man, that kept on including her as one that needed to be taken for everything she was and not merely a surname she had married into.

It was, to put it simple, baffling.

She had, also, not quite expected a similar treatment from the others who had actually stood next to Harry Potter. The young man was far too kind sometimes but she hadn’t seen beyond that night the one back at Hogwarts and when the dust had settled her mind had been too full to actually consider what her actions could warrant beyond, maybe, a smidge of some levity on her own sanction. She had been wrong. And the fact that Hermione Granger had invited her to her own wedding was something that still murked her mind the moment she traveled to where, if she had understood it correctly, Bill and Fleur had once married as well: The Burrow.

She had been there a few times already. Always outside, always careful, back when Draco himself had been invited with the same brittle carefulness for everyone involved as his boy also mended his relationship out of that same sense of duty, he seemed to have had the day he had told Bellatrix how the hexed boy in front of him could be or could not be the one they all were seeking to bring forward to the Dark Lord. She had followed those days, a year in after the war, with the same curling nerves at the end of her throat. Yet when his son had shared with her his growing relationship with the dark-haired one her happiness for him had been genuine. Because atop everything else, Draco would forever and always be her son.

Her train of thought, the memories of those days, the scandal the news had brought into the magical community, were halted as she took into the changed setting of the Burrow. The open field now filled to the brim, the grass seemingly to be under a spell so their colors would mimic the sky in all its oranges and purples as the sun settled above them all. She kept to herself, smiling politely, making small talk to the ones who greeted her, as poised, as careful, as ever. She hugged Draco the moment she spotted him, tightly yet quickly as the scent of sweet flowers filled the air, traipsing over the ones who, in unison, turned all towards the groom as the ceremony began its initial notes.

If Narcissa Malfoy -now Black- had learned something was how not to expect anything, how feelings were difficult at times, how things never quite went in the direction one expected to. The power of one’s magic wasn’t rooted in the fact of how much one witch could change what came in her way but how quick and resilient said witch was to those very same changes. Moving like a spell, unable to be grasped, rather than the very physical wand that could or could not hold a hit, was something she had needed to understand and then rely on as she saw everything she had believed once fall around in jagged shapes.

And yet, when the initial fanfare began to play and she saw the wife-to-be walk down the aisle, walk past her in whites and notes of gold that peppered the edges of her dress as the very same metal had condensed in vaporous lace, the blonde witch felt her own breath being stolen away.

She had talked with Hermione a few times before, always smidges of conversations that felt as if they could be larger specks into the very intelligent woman’s mind. She had felt interested in the way the younger witch hold herself, by the way she always commanded a very different kind of power she herself had done back when Malfoy Manor had been full and a light atop everyone who had considered themselves to be better. That very kind of thing that could not be quite taught and yet it was not merely natural. The brunette had it on spades and she had always felt such pull whenever she was able to get a few minutes with her. A mere comforting interest that she had felt some other times, on her younger days.

Yet, the dress, the way she kept her eyes ahead, her lips parted, the blossoming red on her cheeks. It came far too sudden for her, a hit and a gasp, a murmur that didn’t quite escape her lips as she swallowed, the most obvious, physical reaction of her body hidden away beneath her clothes.

Narcissa tended to prefer to use her wording as specific as possible, as right and perfectly well-put as humanly able. Yet, the word beautiful lost its meaning in a slight, slanted way, as if she looked at it through a murky, dirty glass.  Blinking quickly, regaining herself, she looked back to the groom, the redhead young man. The third part of the trio, the one who had eyed her with less kindness on his eyes for the longest of times. The one who, in the end, had turned out to be the most comforting one amidst the faces who looked wearily but trusting her due to some words Harry Potter had said time and time again. The Weasley family would probably always superimpose the image of her sister, of Bellatrix, of the death eater, with her own shadow. A truth she was ready to admit and a weight to bear. And, still, when she looked at the man that now glanced back at Hermione as she slowly came in front of him, she saw the kindness that he professed for her, and the careful way in where the brunette witch took on his offered hand, a gentle squeeze making muscles tremble and jump against the dying light.

She was beautiful.

And she needed to leave.

[bacchanta]

Can we talk about that one line from The Cursed Child (Drarry/Scorbus content

I really want to hate The Cursed Child because of how they treat Ron, Cedric and Bellatrix and basically everyone from the original books and the fact that Drarry has to be not canon for Scorbus to come about, but that one line where Draco says ‘I don’t care what you did or who you saved, you are a constant curse on my family. Harry Potter.’

It just gives off such Wuthering Heights vibe. I can’t even.

(btw I haven’t watched the play, just read the script)

This one line always has me thinking of a Drarry AU where they did get together right after seventh year but both exited this relationship a little more fucked up than before. Draco, as arrogant and mean as he appeared at school, was never one with a strong spirit. For his entire life up to the point he met Harry Potter, he was used to being told, by Lucius and Narcissa, by his friends, by all those adults hanging around their family, what he should be, what he should believe, what he should love and what he should hate. His years in Hogwarts saw all these indoctrinations fall apart bit by bit, torn down by the unyielding, unapologetic presence that was Harry Potter, until nothing was left but a sense of emptiness and helplessness.

That wasn’t exactly the reason why Draco fell for Potter - he never knew how or when or why that came about, perhaps it was the moment when he saw Harry darting out of that fiendfyre to his rescue in the Room of Requirement, perhaps it was when he saw Harry, lying tattered and motionless in Hagrid’s arms, and felt that the world had indeed sunk into eternal darkness, or perhaps it was a long long time ago.

But it sure was bad timing. To someone who never learnt how to love, who’s got nothing else to believe in, falling in love, and with Harry Potter at that, can be disastrous. Love became an obsession, and obsession became an addiction; Draco suddenly wanted his former archenemy to become his everything, because he doesn’t want to face his own emptiness - Harry was the one who turned up in his world, years back, rejected what he thought he had to offer, rejected everything - everything - he had been proud of up till that point. Harry was the antithesis and the definitive refutation of the person that was Draco Malfoy, and he should be responsible.

What makes this even worse was Harry’s hero complex. No, maybe he wasn’t so egoistic or full of himself to always actively want to save someone else, but he sure didn’t know how to say no to anyone’s call for help. He took responsibility when he didn’t have to, when he couldn’t mentally afford to. He did have feelings for Draco, but his hero complex got in the way so that he couldn’t tell love from pity, just like Draco was less and less capable of distinguishing love and addiction.

And - of course - the stigma attached to Draco, the disapproval from basically everyone they know, the world furiously refusing to understand why their hero chose to be with a former follower of Voldemort.

So eventually, both separately reached the same conclusion - they couldn’t stay together. It was only after they separated and secretly swore to never let the other enter their life again, that they could make sure, for the first time since they got together, that it was love and not something that was simply confused with it.

But all these were many years ago, and they both forgot without really moving on, only occasionally paying a visit to each other’s dreams - dreams that are not exactly nightmares but leave a bitter taste in the mouth.

Now imagine, when Albus and Scorpius get together, they try to hide the traces from Harry and Draco because rumours have it that their fathers hated each other when at school. People’s reservation and apparent awkwardness when talking about the two seem to attest to this. But Albus points out that they cannot keep on hiding their relationship forever and proposes that he and Scorpius should go home and try to figure out - without Harry or Draco noticing - what exactly happened between the two.

But no matter how hard they try, the bits and pieces of their fathers’ early years never seem to quite fit together - it’s as if they are deliberately trying to hide something, something that no one would have guessed.

What’s more, Draco finds out that Scorpius is on to something. The old fear and pain and everything started to resurface, and his self-protective instinct surfaced as anger. Not only does he have to protect himself from his past, he also has to protect Scorpius - of course he knows that Scorpius is close to Potter’s son, but maybe, just maybe, he can do something before it’s too late, like it was for him and Harry. Scorpius has never seen his father this defensive and enraged and frightened and almost desperate, but he thought that Draco must be mad because he already found out about his son and Albus. So Scorpius panics and talks to Albus about his fear, and the two eventually decides to go home and tell their fathers the truth about their relationship.

Now imagine Draco’s look when Scorpius knocks and comes into his room, wearing that sheepish, painfully innocent look as usual, but with something different in his eyes - something that only comes back to Draco in his nightmares - ‘Father? I have something I must tell you. I’m sorry to have lied to you all this time, but please believe me that it is all but because you mean so much to me, and it is always my worst fear that we won’t have your blessing -’

‘Who is it?’ says Draco, voice cracking, the blind, white silence before an avalanche.

‘It’s Potter. Albus Severus Potter.’

Now just imagine Draco’s face.