#draco really monologues for all he's worth

[jomiddlemarch]

they two play out the game 

“Be honest—”

“What do you want me to say, Hermione? That I fell in love with you at school, when you loathed me, when you loathed me because I made you feel that way because I couldn’t bear your pity or worse, being beneath your notice, a shrug of your shoulders, an eyeroll? That the Amortentia I brewed in Potions smelled like ink and rose geranium soap and the bloody catnip you must have grown for your Kneazle in the greenhouses because you never would have nicked it from Sprout? That I envied Weasley for his family loving him and welcoming you, when my father wanted you dead and my mother refused to remember your name?”

Draco paused, lifted a hand from where he’d been gripping the railing and loosened his tie. It was dark blue, because they were no longer children, defined by Houses. He wore his robes open, like an Oxford don, and she could see the suit he wore was Savile Row, not Wizard-tailored. His brogues were polished to a shine short of a House-elf’s efforts.

“Should I tell you I’ve dreamt of you for years, in that periwinkle petal dress and on my ballroom floor, screaming for mercy, and in bookshops, in teashops, in the pub, laughing, smiling at Potter and Longbottom, making a face when you take a sip of your bitter? In the Wizengamot, at my trial, like a Fury. At all the other trials, demolishing their smug assurance, making them cower, making them see? Do you want me to explain how I told Astoria we would marry but I’d never be able to love her and she told me she already knew it, that she understood everything and that if I didn’t mind too much, she supposed we’d do well enough together? You want to hear how when my son was born, I wanted to Owl you, before anyone else, even though you’d have been baffled to receive any message from me, would have probably thought it was a prank from George Weasley, an overture to return to the Weasley bosom after you and Ron ended it ostensibly amicably, except that you’d left England and hadn’t been back in six years for more than a fortnight?”

He took a step nearer and Hermione resisted the urge to fold her arms across her chest or draw her robes closer in some nonverbal attempt at protection. He’d grown taller after the War ended and she hadn’t, not a whit, probably stunted by the stress and starvation of the Horcrux hunt, but he was still a few steps below her on the stairs, so he continued to look up at her, a supplicant. He was still giving her that power, that dominance over him which she hadn’t believed when he’d offered it earlier in words alone.

“Shall I tell you how I followed your career, the papers you wrote, the conferences you attended, collecting clippings like a lovesick groupie with his favorite Quidditch team? How I heard your voice when I taught Scorpius his first spells? How I told him the brightest witch I’d ever known was Sorted into Gryffindor and he was confused because his mother had been a Ravenclaw? How my wife fell in love with my best friend and I didn’t care, or rather, I was happy for her because Theo loved her back and it was nothing for me to look away and let them have the time they could? How I thought if you knew, you’d perhaps admire me for once, for not being selfish, for making some sacrifice, except that you’d be wrong, it wasn’t a sacrifice at all, not when I cared about them both in one way and not at all in another? You want to hear how I thought I’d seen you—at the train station and in the City, in the Prophet, your hair braided, that streak of white like a halo, like a queen’s ivory filet, your eyes, sweet Nimue, your eyes, Hermione—”

“I’m not a saint,” she put in.

He climbed another stair and now he looked directly at her. She could rest her hands on his shoulders if she wanted. She could raise a hand and stroke his cheek, graze the steel temple of his spectacles, the silver hair at above his ears. 

“I know. And I know why you don’t wear a glamour or charm your hair the color it was when we were young. You want me to tell you how my wife died and I wanted you to comfort me? To come to her funeral and hold my hand, to wear the veil for her and to let me fold it back over your head to face the truth? How I wanted you in my bed, fresh from your bath, in a nightdress you’d let me ruck up to your waist, naked beneath me, your skin like silk, arching up into my hands, gasping, laughing when I accidentally tickled your waist. Crying out when you felt my mouth on your breasts, suckling, when you felt my cock hard between your thighs, when I begged you? When I told you to spread your legs, love, when I praised you for being so good, my beautiful, darling, delicious witch I wanted to fuck all night, that there was no one else, there never had been, there never would be, only you, my darling with your dark eyes and your brilliant mind and your magic, your heart, your cunt—You want me to say that I love you, that I’ve loved you to the best of my ability for the best part of my life and that I don’t want you to go, not now, not ever, but I know that’s not up to me?”

There was a slight flush in his cheeks, a gleam in his grey eyes that might be tears, but his voice was steady, restrained, and there was space between them yet that she knew he would not breach. She used the effort required to cast tandem wandless in a duel to the death, more than she’d used when she was eighteen and expected to save the world.

“If it’s the truth—” she said.

“It’s the truth,” he answered. “There’s more, I suppose, but it’s much the same.”

“Then it’s what I asked for,” she said. She closed her eyes for a moment, part of her sure he would not be there when she looked again, a dream, a vision she’d conjured, Nimue and Merlin both, trapped within her desires while the world lived and grew around her. She opened her eyes and there he was, waiting. There was a shadow in his gaze, the expectation of rejection, abandonment. He was not a man accustomed to hope. She’d asked, though, and he’d answered.

“I’ve learned, as I’ve grown older, that I can’t hope for the best. Settle for what I’m given. I must take what I want, with both hands,” she said and reached over, up a little, to cup his face with her palms, her fingers touching the ends of his hair at the nape of his neck. He was very still, almost rigid, and she felt a frisson of fear, of being deceived, denied. 

“With both hands,” she repeated a little hesitantly. “Unless, you don’t, after all—Scorpius will not, and you have to put him first, of course—”

“I do,” Draco, beginning to smile. “And I was told not to come home without you, though Scorpius is willing to take my word for your arrival. He’s not waiting there for us.”

“No?” Hermione said, feeling terribly warm, terribly, wonderfully desired. Needed. Accepted.

“No, I shall have you all to myself,” he said. He finally put his arms around her, very carefully as they were still on a staircase and perhaps he was a little unsteady now. “D’you suppose, before we go, I might kiss you?”

“Here? Where anyone might see?” Hermione asked, though the hallway had been deserted for the past hour and the charm on the wall sconces needed to be recast. Though she had let herself look at his mouth, the curve of his lips. Let herself admit her own appetite had gone beyond any curious hunger, to craving, the sweet she had been forbidden for so long.

“Yes. Be honest, would that bother you?” he said.

“Do you think I will say it would? Do you expect me to tell you no when I’ve just said you’re what I want? All that I want?” she said, echoing him. Making him grin, a hint of the smirk she first remembered seeing on his face as a young boy, now subsumed into such tenderness she felt nearly overwhelmed.

“Is it the truth?” he said.

“Yes,” she said and then she didn’t say anything else because they were beyond needing any other word than “Home—” the Side-along as easy as a breath, as waking from a dream into the day.

They named their first daughter Verity, explaining it was a family name.

[notalone91]

What are some of your favorite moments you've written?

Oh, god. Um.

I'm gonna give you a bunch because you've literally asked me to tell you my favorite children:

"That’s right, little man.  That’s Draco."  He pointed.  "And, see, his hair matches, what I can only guess is your tie," Ron offered, flipping the silk over the rail, "and his eyes match your mug."  Draco stepped back for a moment and took it all in as Ron spoke.  "He takes after his mum, not his dad.  Well, other than that he wants to be like the dad in front of him."  Finally loosening that laugh and handing the baby back to Draco, he tapped on the rim of the Quafflepunchers mug "And I thought Ginny and I were the only ones that called you princess."

From You Disgust Me, Werewolf Baby (Drarry)

I have a drabble where Callie Torres makes Mark Sloan basically worship her and his list is so earnest and dirty and at one point he says something about her ass launching a thousand masturbatory fantasies and he should know because he's had quite a few of them, and she's stunned and fumbles for a bit and then he says:

Mark was surprised that she even had to ask.  "You really don't know, do you?"  Seeing as her expression remained unchanged, he turned her head to look back in the mirror and held her tight.  "You are the most phenomenal woman I've ever, ever known.  You change lives.  You save people.  You saved me.  You are gorgeous, talented, brilliant and an infinite amount of adjectives that could never touch the wonder that lies here in you," he said, bringing his hand to rest over her heart.

From We'll Forget The Past (Sloan/Torres... Mallie? Is that the name?)

Every time I've ever written stand up for Richie, I get really proud of myself, but the stand up in You're lucky we're not measuring... Richie! is my favorite.

The Alouette Scene and Eddie's visions in the hospital in Feeling like I've Missed you.

When they almost forget each other in You'll Be Mine and I'll be yours

Can I say the entirety of your eyes look like coming home??? No. Okay, the opening lines, then.

When Tyrion saves Sansa from Joffrey in the throne room and when he reveals his words at dinner in It was only a word.

the cocktail swords and the granny panties in call me friend

chapter 10 of as i lay beside the fire. all of it. i worked really hard on that.

That stunned him.  “Why?  There never needed to before.”  That was true.  In every iteration of their relationship, they’d never spoken about it. 

“There was one before,” Richie said with a bitter laugh.  “An affair.”  

[...]

“God, why are we still doing this?”

“Do you want to end this?  If you're not happy-” he said, stepping back and ready to give in.

“No!  I don't want to end this.  I fucking love you.  For whatever that's worth,” he let his hands drop to his sides, finally feeling much soberer than he had in hours.  “Isn’t that the worst thing you’ve ever heard?”  

Eddie was stunned to silence.  Richie said it to him frequently.  It would never cease to amaze Eddie to hear that assurance, especially in the middle of a fight.  Myra would only ever come close to it in a fight with “You don’t love me anymore, do you?” and “You’re loving this, aren’t you?”  Never anything that made him remember what he was fighting for.  Just guilt and manipulation.

“That's the worst fucking part, Eds.  I love you so much I can hardly stand it and you don't love me and I still stay.”  He shook his head and looked up at the ceiling.  “And I’ll keep staying because I love you too much to live without you.” 

From Seal My Fate

Bill's Death in Exit Light, Enter Night

Barry's Internal Monologue as he performs McB's soliloquy after Sally's Death in Signifying nothing.

Eddie bringing home the health class baby in Butterflies the beautiful kind

Richie and Eddie teasing each other about how they would lose the games in All that's Dead and gone juxtaposed with the rule change

Phone Sex in Latching on to you, especially when richie's convinced eddie's at the office and it's like surprise lol I'm at your door

Ben Stammering over te fact that Richie used to date Jonatan Knight in Show Our Dedication

All of You can change right next to me. okay, no but Richie and Went sharing a joint, and The Search For Eddie

Richie calling the kiss that he shared with Eddie in the cavern a "true love's kiss" in Where you book matters

Schmidt and Cece falling through Jess's door in You Understand

Also:

“Hey, Jess?”  She hmmed a response, looking up at him innocently.  “While I would love for this to continue, in the spirit of full disclosure, I just remembered that you are only wearing that bathrobe, so I’m gonna need to take a second.”  He leaned off of her and tugged a little at his pants, aiming for discretion.  He cleared his throat and stood up, offering a hand to help her up.  “Do you want to put some clothes on and then continue this conversation?”

Impressed with the direction of the evening, she gave him a skeptical smile.  “You never want to talk.”

That much was still true.  He just needed to cool down, he didn’t want to stop.  He tilted his head toward the bed and explained, “The non-verbal conversation we were just having.”

She laughed, nodding her head exaggeratedly.  “Got it.  That one.”  She tapped her kiss swollen lip gently and realized how ridiculous this coded conversation was, considering that they were all alone.  “The mouth one.”  She turned back to her closet and started rifling through her shelf of more comfortable clothes.  “I guess that does make kissing a conversation, doesn’t it?”  She dropped her robe off of her shoulders casually.  Thoughtlessly, even.  “It’s-”

It took him a moment to come back to earth, allowing himself the real, honest opportunity to watch her and really see her.  The elegant curve along her ribs to her hips,  The dimples just above her- “Jess!”

“What?” she asked, turning back to face him and bringing her robe back up.

“You just-”  He gestured vaguely in her general direction from behind the hand he’d clasped over his eyes.  “Opposite of helpful!”

Laughing again, Jess couldn’t get over how ridiculous he was.  “What?  You literally just saw me naked five minutes ago.”  She let her robe drop the rest of the way off.  They’d already seen each other naked several times.  “You can watch me get dressed,” she shrugged.  

Turning on his heel, he moved back into the hallway, crashing into the doorway.  “I’m trying not to get too worked up here and that’s not helpful.  I’m gonna…” He gestured over his shoulder with his free hand before turning and finally allowing himself to open his eyes when he’d faced away from her.  “I’m just gonna go get a drink and reset a little, okay?”

“Okay.” 

Jess let him take a few steps out of her room and a devious idea bolted through her mind.  “Hey, Miller?” she said, hoping to call him back.

Turning back immediately, he peeked his head in the door.  “Yeah?”

She looked at him appraisingly, then smiled.  Her nimble fingers quickly parted her robe, announcing “Flash,” before drawing it back around her into a hug.  

“Did you literally say flash as you were-”  She giggled and all he could do was shake his head as he turned around, finally heading for the kitchen.  “Nevermind.  See you in a minute, Jess,” he called over his shoulder.  

He reached the kitchen, grabbed 2 beers from the fridge, placed it on the table, then rested his palms against the cool stainless steel, taking a deep breath to steady himself.  He shook his head and pulled his phone from his pocket.  “You are gonna be trouble.”  He responded to a string of text updates from Schmidt, then took a swig of his beer.  “I had to teach this girl how to say penis a couple of weeks ago and now here we are.  What have I done?  I’m a victim of my own making,” he grumbled to himself despite the rare, honest smile on his face. 

From Exposed

[snow-in-the-desert]

Dramione Recommendations

Ok so, 2020 has been A LOT but on a personal note one of the most surprising things to happen was me discovering Dramione fanfiction and becoming unashamedly obsessed with it. I really didn’t see that coming but I’m here now and I’m here to stay. 

I think I started reading in the Dramione fandom around mid July last year?? (In all honesty I’ve lost any true sense of time’s progression at this point so I could be well off the mark with that) And I’ve decided to compile a list of all my favourite fics I’ve read so far. Why? I really just want to gush over all the amazing writers I have found through this fandom because y’all deserve it. 

Side note: If any of the authors actually sees this post just dm so I can buy you coffee or post you writing supplies or something idk I feel like that’s the least I can do for all your amazing work x

Remain Nameless by @heyjude19-writing

Ok I have to start with RN because this fic is pretty much the sole reason I decided to create an account with A03 or a tumblr or just decided to get involved with this fandom at all. 

I headcannon this story hard. But I think even if you aren’t a fan of Dramione you should just read this because it is so unbelievably good and well written and poignant and Draco’s sarcastic personality in this is truly a thing of beauty in this - I relate to his inner monologue’s on a deep personal level. 

I could rave about this story any time, any day of the week, just ask me. In fact, maybe I’ll just start a HeyJude19 fan club to fulfill that urge.

There are so many elements that I love but for the sake of brevity, RN is a beautifully told story of Draco and Hermione finding love and healing in a post-war HP setting. Heyjude19 had the very special ability of making me want to simulatenously laugh, cry and swoon with the power of her words. Just stop what you are doing and go read it now if you havent already, ok?  

I also really enjoyed reading Bells on a Hill, Beers, Potions and Unwise Notions and A Shift in Focus, if you are looking for smaller fics, definitely give these a go. They are all funny and heartfelt stoires that will make your tippy toes wriggle with glee. 

The Rights and Wrongs Series by @lovesbitca8

The Right Thing To Do, All The Wrong Things and The Auction are the holy trinity of Dramione writing. I have christened it thus, so mote it be. And frankly I’m not interested in any other opinion than that one, thank you very much!

After reading this series I don’t think I’ll be able to look back on the orginal HP books without thinking of Hermione’s and Draco’s memories of their time at Hogwarts in these fics as anything other than strictly cannon. 

So many things to love about this series but I think one of the major highlights was Hermione and Draco’s use of occlumency. LoveBitca8 created such beautiful visuals with how occlumency works as a magical practice and seeing Draco and Hermione so devoted to eachother to the point of safeguarding their inner most feelings to protect eachother was unbelievably romantic and poetic. 

Also the smut is divine ;)

Manacled by @senlinyu​

My heart will never be the same after reading this story. Like I actually can’t think about this fic without getting a lump at the back of my throat. I have never felt so emotionally ruined after reading anything, compared to the likes of this fic. Just please, please read it. To badly quote HP, reading Manacled will make you suffer but you’re going to be happy about it.

The flashbacks are a rollercoaster in of themselves but the way Hermione inadvertently refers to them when she is still in a state of memory loss was so heartbreaking to read. My heart still aches for them both. Also its a truly satisfying to see Draco and Hermione written in a way were they are both so fiercly protective of one another. They make my insides go soft. 

I also really enjoyed Snow Fall, Now Is A Gift and All You Want by the author but to be honest anything written by Senlinyu is always thoroughly enjoyable and worth a look. 

The Erised Effect by @adaprix​

Ada is QUEEN of dramione smut but ‘The Erised Effect’ is top tier. Its equal parts funny, romantic, sentimental and oh so sexy. Ada really knows how to build and build on sexual tension and doesn’t disappoint on the final delivery. I’m a big admirer of her writing style and just veraciously read whatever she posts but ‘The Erised Effect’ is just golden. A must read. (Also Pansy’s sexual fantasy in this story is a visual I don’t think I’ll ever be able to remove from my brain so thanks for that Ada)

Also quick side note: Adaprix’ stories were the first I read when I was looking into this fandom and it was enough to get me hooked on the pairing from the get go so I have that to thank Ada for too. I remember devouring all the stories she had posted to A03 and when I was done I was like... now what am I supposed to do with my life?? And that’s basically when I began to look deeper into the fandom and thus the course of my life in 2020 changed for the better. 

Some other stories I love by her are Break for Me, All My Sins, The Big 4-0, The Fucklust Series and The Flat in Bath. 

Clean by @olivieblake​

This 6th Year AU where Draco and Hermione work together on a class assignment and end up falling in love had me feeling all kinds of ways when I read it. I almost don’t know where to start but I think one of the stand out things for me was how immersed I felt in reading it. 

Hogwarts is captured really well, you get a good sense of class atmospheres, character nuances and behind the scenes of events that happen in HBP but from a Draco and Hermione’s perspectives. It’s well executed and intricate tapestry of a fic. With an excellent plot twist ending! 

Also Hermione and Draco’s relationship in this is equal parts fluffy and smutty and it just ticks all the right boxes that you want to see for those characters ;)

Breath Mints / Battle Scars by @onyx-and-elm​

The angst in this one is just *chef’s kiss*

God I love this fic. The way Draco is portrayed is very true to his defensive and tetchy character in the original books but he is also given so much more depth. The way his diary entries are written are just so well executed. It’s a true testament to the author’s creative writing skill. And I LOVE how even though Draco is clearly in such a messed up place, he still has a basic level of self respect and dignity that he won’t tolerate being used or undervalued in his relationship with Hermione. 

Yep, I really love Draco’s characterisation in this one if you can’t tell.  But Hermione is also well written too. Her stuggles and trauma of returning to Hogwarts after war is described in a believable and grounded way. And my heart definitely ached for them both. I just wanted to wrap the pair of them in a big fuzzy blanket and tell them that everything will be alright. 

WANDS OUT! by @persephonestone​

This murder mystery / Dramione / Theo x Harry / AU crossover is everything I didn’t know I wanted until I read it. I felt like I was picked up and plonked right into an alternative dimension where all the characters of HP are just living it up in an Agatha Christie novel. 

It’s a funny and clever story that I found refreshing to read amongst all the other fanfics that are usually cemented in the HP timeline or universe. Theodore Nott in this fic is perfection he should be written like this in every fic from now on in my opinion. I couldn’t stop giggling any time he had a scene in the story.

And the ‘only one bed’ trope in this fic is 10/10. I don’t want to give spoilers but ohmygod. It hits all the right notes. 

The One With Technical Difficulties by cassielassie 

Cassielassie has an excellent three part series of Dramone called ‘The One with...” but I have to give special credit to this story in particular for one main reason. ELEVATOR TROPES. I can’t get enough of em. I think I have my early childhood viewings of NCIS to thank for my obsession with elevator tropes they just do something to me that simply cannot be explained with mere words. The palpable sexual tension of being in a broken down elevator with an ‘enemies to lovers’ pairing, a heated arguement breaks out followed by a discovery of mutual feelings and a romantic embrace...

Eugh. It gets me everytime. And this fic is no exception. I loved it for all the reasons I’ve already stated above but also for the attention to detail in Draco and Hermione’s careers makes this one particularly immersive. The dynamics between them established in this one-shot are convincingly portrayed and the chemistry between them is so undeniably hot. 

The Light is No Mystery by @masterofinfinities​

Yooo if you want to read a dramione fic that is a deep dive into Pureblood culture and Post-War recovery but is also a perfect allegory for discrimination and today’s political landscape of moral grandstanding for votes then look no further than this one. 

This story has a bit of everything. Intrigue, mystery, ptsd and recovery, enemies to lovers / secret relationship, government conspiracy and humour, to name a few. I eargerly await every update to this story and am anxious to know how it ends!

The Eagle’s Nest by HeartOfAspen 

Finally! A fic that gives me the Ravenclaw representation I crave. I think I could recommend this fic on the lore depicted of Ravenclaw house alone. ‘The Stacks’ and Rowena Ravenclaw’s own ‘come and go room’ are just such cool details that I could see being real in the HP universe. 

This fic is so cosy and makes me feel like I’m just popping back into Hogwarts for another year. You get to see all the usuals like prof. Mcgongall, Nearly headless Nick, PEEVES, Hagrid, as well as learn more about minor characters from the other school houses. The story follows Hermione going to her day to day classes and there are interesting concepts about magic and alchemy that are explored. 

Draco and Hermione’s relationship in this one is of course very fluffy and heartfelt. But it’s the attention to detail that really makes this fic outstanding and the experience of reading it feels fleshed out and true to HP universe.

A shorter fic by HeartofAspen that I recommend is one called Set in Stone, it has an adventurous, Indianna Jones vibe to it, that I am so down for. 

Teachable Moments by @purplesugarquills

In this fic Hermione is an innocent little virgin determined to learn everything about sex. And Draco Malfoy is her tutor. If that isn’t enough to get you on board then I don’t know what is. Both Heartfelt and Steamy. PurpleSugarQuills writes smut so well but it’s the progression of their growing attachment and the nervous treading of new uncharted waters of romantic relationships for both of them that just adds a whole other level of feels to the story. Also chapter 9 is like reading poetry - its so good. Eugh just give it a read if you haven’t already.

Les Pèlerins by @pacific-rimbaud

This story is high art. It’s transcendent. Reading this story feels like the emotional equivalent of standing around a hundred glowing fairy lights, sipping hot cocoa and being wrapped in the loving embrace of a s/o. I can’t speak my praises highly enough or even become passably coherent in my words when I try to articulate a review. 

From the very first paragraph I felt like I was just whisked away on a Parisian holiday and I’ve never even bloody been to Paris but damn it if this story didn’t make me feel like I was there. The writing style is just so tactile and intense it’s like I could feel the cold winter air brush against me as I read it. Eugh I just completely fell in love with the story and the writer. 

New Year’s resolution. Read everything PacificRimbaud has ever posted online. 

[joonkorre]

its crazy late but

@drarrymicrofic prompt: blanket fort

(there’s no plot. none. just dudes being guys, guys being pals)

(caution: not very micro, more like a one shot. a whole lot of anecdotes. i’m writing this under a blanket with snow beating at my window, so of course this has to be very soft and warm. you have been warned)

“Hello?” Harry says into the dark. He’s just gotten home and instead of seeing the familiar orange hue of their beetle-shaped lamp (a gift from Luna, of course), there’s a single sliver of moonlight slipping through the curtains. Nothing else seems to exist in the living room but the echo of Harry’s greeting. Tangerine and sage drift into his nose, followed by the bitter tang of smoke. The scent of Draco’s favorite candle, newly extinguished.

Draco just left. Discovered a breakthrough in his research and fled to the Ministry lab, maybe.

Harry sighs. Unlaces his boots and hangs up his coat absentmindedly only for it to crumple onto the floor. Another sigh. He bends and retrieves it, deciding instead to throw it in the laundry bin. Might as well; he’s been trudging around in Dayhound mucus for hours and neither his dragonhide boots nor coat were spared. 

Walking into the kitchen, Harry grabs a glass from the drying rack and pours himself water from the pitcher in the fridge. It’s ridiculous how a simple act like this can drain his energy so, but it does. Curse breaking isn’t a walk in the park; even walking hurts, considering the amount of magic he expends on shite like a 500-year-old wailing locket on a day to day basis. Exposure to different kinds of magic - dark, Old Magick, elemental, countlessly and endlessly more- for 8 hours straight more often than not result in a fierce ringing in his temples and pinpricks on his skin.

After years of doing it, he can scarcely tolerate one Portkey trip from wherever he’s assigned to back to the main headquarter before getting uncontrollable shivers. Another 30 minutes on the metro, then a 10-minute walk home. In addition, Harry has to sleep for at least 8 hours every night to replenish his energy. Morning comes, he wakes up, Apparates to the headquarter, and the cycle continues.

Why does he even stick with curse breaking at this point? Right, a wry grin graces Harry’s lips, Draco thinks the uniform is hot. Oh, and can’t forget the job benefits, insurance, whole nine yards.

With the glass now rinsed and settled once more on the drying rack, Harry drags his feet to the bedroom. The clock - an antique Draco stole from his cheating ex - hits 7:18 PM, but getting ready to go to sleep sure sounds like a decent idea. Harry palms the back of his aching neck and winces. He’d go shower, scrub the dirt and tension off his limbs, and maybe heat up the leftovers from two days-

“There you are. I was wondering how much longer drinking water could take.”

Harry looks up from his slippered feet to see Draco. Or, more specifically, Draco’s silhouette. Behind some kind of white cloth. A white cloth that’s conveniently placed where the focus of the bedroom should’ve been. 

The relief at seeing his husband evaporates.

“What,” Harry says, “where’s our bed.”

Draco’s silhouette crawls to the opening of the cloth… tent-shaped thing. Pewter grey eyes peer at him behind strands of near-platinum blonde, its icy color soothed by the orange tint of… ah, so he’s brought the bug lamp in here. Neat.

“I,” Draco answers. Pauses. “Might have brought it somewhere else.”

“Somewhere else.”

“Yes.”

Harry shakes his head. An exasperated chuckle escapes his lips.

“Is ‘somewhere else’ the recycling center?”

“Why,” Draco flops down on the floor, appearing tired of holding himself up on his elbows for more than 10 seconds. It’s peculiar to see, the gesture a bit ungraceful for someone like him. Harry is helplessly in love amused. “Do my ears deceive me? Am I being confronted, cornered, accosted for being a good husband? Were the 5 minutes it took to Shrink and Levitate the wretched old thing away from our safe haven worth your condescension, dear lover?”

“I guess I did say I hate-”

“Correct!”

“-the headboard. Nothing but the headboard. Yesterday. While I’m half asleep. Baby.”

“Oh, pish posh, I hate it too! In fact, I’m doing us both a favor disposing of the entire thing altogether.”

“God, however can I thank you? I mean, you did rid us of our bed where we sleep on.”

“You can thank me by taking off those horrid gears faster and come here,” with that, Draco crawls back to where he was sitting before.

“You love these gears,” Harry says, hanging his harnesses and tool belt in the closet and walking into the bathroom for a quick shower, “you love them against your ba-”

“Put a lock on that filthy mouth, Potter, what will the Daily Prophet think?” Draco’s yell almost drowns out the shower spray. Harry laughs, his stomach hurting for the right reason at last.

When he re-enters the bedroom, Draco is leaning out from the tent thing.

“Come, get in, get in,” he beckons with a hasty wave.

Harry points to his wet hair with the hand holding his towel. Draco clicks his tongue and waves his hand more aggressively.

His husband’s level of theatrics is directly proportional to how slow Harry is at doing what he says, so he nods, fondness overflowing, and obeys.

“What’s all this?” He crouches and crawls in, eyeing the collection of pillows and quilts surrounding Draco and what would be Harry’s seat. It seems that he had also lugged in the chairs from their dining room to provide some structural support for the tent.

“A blanket fort, lover,” Draco says, his gaze tender. Harry’s finger tips tingle with every touch of cotton, linen, silk, as he gets situated. It’s been years and years and years and years, and Harry can never get used to, can never take for granted, the weight of his husband’s undivided attention.

“Huh,” he says, sitting down with an ‘oof’, “isn’t this for kids?”

“A blanket fort is a blanket fort,” Draco takes the towel from Harry’s arm and puts the throw pillow Ron knitted in his lap. He hits a button on the laptop in front of them, and Harry’s favorite jazz collection plays. He blinks. He thought Draco would play his questionable atmospheric-white-noise-POV-you’re-having-tea-in-a-gothic-vampire-library playlist, the weirdo.

Velvety smooth sax flows through the air. Harry exhales, easy and content, and lets Draco tilt his head. He towels Harry’s hair, massaging unhurried circles on his scalp and varying the degree of pressure. In no time, his head lolls forward, eyes closed, chin a breath away from his well-worn shirt. A slender, pale hand cups his cheek and holds his head up and steady. Meanwhile, the hand’s owner leans out of the blanket fort to get something.

“Ow.” A grunt. Harry smiles; most likely a cramp from all the leaning.

Then, his husband reseats himself, this time with a smell. A mouth-watering, delicious smell, tickling the back of Harry’s nose. He opens his eyes to see Draco lifting off the lid of a ceramic bowl perched on a tray, steam floating out and fogging Harry’s glasses. It’s purple yam soup, topped with chopped up shrimp and ground beef.

“Your usual order from the Viet place nearby whenever Pepper-up isn’t sufficient,” Draco murmurs, placing a spoon in Harry’s hand, his words warm against Harry’s temple. Huh, he didn’t think Draco would notice. “You said today you’d deal with those disgusting booby traps you showed me, thus I reckoned I should put the yams on our counter into good use.”

Harry stares at the soup, stunned. Draco must have taken his expression as something else.

“Oh, right,” he says, “I heated it up on the stove, but you were taking atrociously long so I casted a Heating charm. Let me take it off, okay?”

Draco flicks his hawthorn wand, a hand squeezing Harry’s shoulder as if he could see the prickling running up Harry’s nape.

He turns to look at his husband. When Harry’s career was starting to take its toll on his magical core, Draco didn’t hesitate to dive headfirst into Muggle living. Easier said than done, and it took months for him to stop frowning at the “absolutely bizarre, Potter, bizarre” appliances, but he got there in the end. Despite his constant bitching about everything, Draco not once raised a word about the drastic switch, effortlessly guiding Narcissa to gossip about the Albescu clan’s abhorrent matriarch when she asks about how he’s faring.

“Gosh, I,” Harry says. Mumbles, really, into Draco’s collarbone, filling his brain with the woodsy aroma of potion making that no amount of expensive body products can mask, “that’s lovely, baby, thank you.”

“Eat,” Draco says, rubbing his chin on the top of Harry still-damp hair and messaging his tense neck. Harry knows he’s breathing him in too. “Or I’ll have to heat it up in the kitchen again, and forgive me but I’d rather stay here for the next 12 hours, at least.”

“Lazy arse.”

Draco laughs, a momentary rumble of his chest, then moves forward to click something on the laptop. Harry’s on his fifth spoonful of pure comfort when the jazz music stops, and on the blank wall opposite from their blanket fort is the title card of a movie. Strange, Harry didn’t even notice the mini projector. He squints.

“Why is there Korean subtitles?”

“Lover,” Draco tosses a napkin at Harry’s crossed legs, “what is watching movies online without the occasional bout of piracy?”

“Pira- piracy,” Harry chokes, the hot soup stinging his palate, “we have a Netflix subscription.”

“You can’t find shite like this on Netflix.”

“Of course we can. Baby, we don’t know anyone who’s good at computer stuff and can deal with the viruses.”

“There’s no virus here, I checked.”

“How,” Harry stresses, “and again, piracy.”

“Sometimes,” Draco says, lowering the speaker volume, “not doing crimes… is worse.”

“What the fuck,” the main character, a square-faced woman with a python around her neck, has a monologue in a completely different language. “What the fuck? Is that Italian?”

“Yes, but I’m French.”

“And?”

“And they’re both Romance languages. I can understand certain words and translate it for you.”

No, he can’t.

“Why are you looking at me like that? Keep eating,” Draco settles amid the pillows, long hair settled on his satin-clad chest, white against emerald. Harry sneers at him - an unfortunate habit he’s gotten from Draco - and turns to watch the movie.

True to his words, Draco translates every dialogue and mimics the characters’ voices with zeal, contradicting his stoic expression and somber, interlaced hands, looking like a cranky judge having to deal with reckless teenagers on their anti-authority phase. Harry can tell that he doesn’t understand a thing, and soon enough he’s woven a story about how the thriller-mystery they’re watching is actually a vicious custody battle over a duck. For each of Harry’s occasional snicker at the absurdity Draco has thought up is a playful kick at his ribs.

Minutes pass. With Harry’s bowl now emptied, he puts it on a chair and goes to wash up. 

The moment he sits back down, Draco’s big toe pokes at his spine. Getting the memo, Harry grins and reclines on the pillows. His left side is flushed against Draco’s right, the kinks in his neck eased off from the angle. They, as per usual, gradually get closer to one another, and at some point, Draco lays his head on Harry’s chest and ear on his beating heart. It’s calming to him, Draco had said when Harry asked, on the third night of their honeymoon. With the war long behind them, there was nothing to fear. Only the constellations existed as their witnesses.

“You died, Harry,” he had whispered, full and tipsy. “It was the worst thing I’ve ever seen, despite all the shite I made you go through.

“You were so far away in Hagrid’s arms, I couldn’t see your face,” the night had been blinding, but his eyes had found Draco’s anyway. “It felt like my heart died with you.”

Harry had kissed his forehead and hugged him close. His heart had always been there for Draco to take.

“What’s up with the blanket fort?”

He has a lapful of Draco, a lungful of peach and cedar scented shampoo, and the sleepy timbre of his husband’s voice against his chest. The Italian movie is the last thing on Harry’s mind. 

“I wasn’t aware of its existence growing up,” Draco says. “Having anything other than an immaculate bed when one wasn’t sleeping was uncouth, see, so you could imagine my surprise when Teddy demanded to play in something as messy as a fort so often.”

Harry doesn’t need to imagine it; he had witnessed it himself. Draco, freshly released from a two-year sentence in Azkaban, mellowed and tentative, yet determined to reconnect with his mother’s sister and his nephew. Harry had been wary too, standing in the corner of Teddy’s bedroom, staring at the fuzz of blonde on Draco’s shorn head and his weak gait. Teddy, the darling boy with his clumsy hold on Draco’s thigh, afraid that the haggard man would trip without help, had led him to his play area.

“Fort, fort,” the boy had screamed in Draco’s ear, but he hadn’t flinched. He had nodded and gone along with Teddy’s babbled directions, then sat back on his heels and fixed a wide-eyed stare at the monstrosity Teddy had called a fort (his designing skills were, unsurprisingly, underdeveloped at the mere age of two). 

Swiveling his head, he had gawked at Harry, who had still been standing in the corner with his arms crossed, confusion and hysteria in the arch of his aristocratic brows.

It had been the first time he had looked at Harry in the eye for years. In seconds, it was 6th Year all over again, with him watching Draco pushing his food around with a fork from across the room, unable to look away. Obsession, a voice unlike Hermione’s helpfully defined, had slithered up and under his skin. It had remained there for years, stubborn and ardent, an emotion he had tried to leave behind time and time again. He’d never succeeded.

It’s Draco, after all.

“He never let anyone but him enter the fort, remember? Back when he’s still making us build it for him?” Draco’s fingers tap a random rhythm on Harry’s stomach. Harry tightens his arm around him, shifts a bit. “So many forts and I still didn’t know what it’s like to be in one.”

Somebody downs a shot in the movie. Harry doesn’t quite register it. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in a proper one either until now. Didn’t have enough space in the cupboard. Plus, the hanging around the beds at Hogwarts felt pretty cozy by themselves.”

Draco hums. “Mhmm, I say. Another ‘first’ for us.”

Harry glances at the crown of his head. The man doesn’t sound surprised; Harry wagers that he already knows and decided to make one for the both of them today.

They continue to watch the movie in silence, whites and blues and purples flooding his sight, until Draco yawns and Harry blinks his eyes shut for far too long.

“Baby.”

“Hmm?”

“Sleep?”

“Yes.”

“Where, then? We have no bed.”

“I still maintain that I made the right choice”

“Jesus Christ, you’re so rash for an academic.”

“Well, in my professional opinion, sleeping in a blanket fort every blue moon does wonders for one’s quality of sleep,” Draco gets up on his elbow to smirk at Harry, “we can look at other beds tomorrow, can’t we? Now hush. Rest.”

“Ha,” Harry says, at least 5 more words to follow up on that just on the tip of his tongue. But then Draco runs a gentle hand through Harry’s hair, taking his time with it, the remaining hints of Harry’s migraine from work fading with every curl of hair carefully unknotted. He mumbles this and that, silly, insignificant things, engrossed in his task, and Harry listens carefully as his eyelids lower.

Draco takes off his gold-rimmed glasses (so sweet and soft Harry can barely feel it), cleans them and puts them on a chair. Through half-lidded eyes, Harry watches him cover them both with a quilt and return to Harry’s chest, curling up like a cat. Draco’s arm is around his midriff, peach and cedar pervading his senses anew, and Harry forgets whatever he was going to say.

Cold ankles pressed against bare calves, Harry is already deep asleep when the credits roll.

[lichfucker]

do u have starkid recs for someone who obsessively watched and rewatched avpm/s in 2010 but then never pursued any other content? as a side note ive also seen&loved edgar allan poe's murder mystery/dinner party.

I mean. almost all of them are extremely good

if you like parodies, twisted is my absolute favorite of all of their shows. twisted is to aladdin what wicked is to the wizard of oz. will probably make you cry, if you're into that, which I am. holy musical batman is also very good and super underrated. if you like joe walker (voldemort/umbridge) you'll like hmb. trail to oregon is also very fun, though the potty humor can be a little much at times. most people don't like ani, their star wars parody, and I'll admit it took me a while to really Get ani as well-- it's less a musical and more like a movie with a live soundtrack. definitely the most niche in terms of the references (which is a WILD thing to say about star wars but it gets SO specific with the lore). I definitely would have liked ani more if I knew more about star wars. and obv there's also a very potter senior year, but the only thing I remember from it is the gilderoy lockhart mouse prince monologue, and I've never really felt a strong desire to rewatch it

if you're less invested in strictly parody, everything they've done post-twisted has been original stuff. (they did a couple originals before, too-- me and my dick, which really is not worth watching, and starship, which really IS worth watching. kick it up a notch makes me feel shrimp emotions.) firebringer is a fantastic lauren lopez vehicle (draco). work to do became sort of a meme a few years ago. if you've seen any clips/gifs of her rolling her eyes and going "I don't really wanna do the work today," that's firebringer. black friday is the only starkid show that's ever come close to dethroning twisted as my favorite. it is EXTREMELY different from their early stuff. it's a cosmic horror dark comedy about people shopping on black friday. the production value is. incredible. it is shot and edited like a feature film. if you're going to watch black friday you should PROBABLY watch the guy who didn't like musicals first. I didn't like tgwdlm very much, it just wasn't my cup of tea personally (most people I've encountered seem to really love it though). black friday isn't technically a direct sequel to tgwdlm, but they're set in the same place and have a lot of overlapping characters, and most of the "comedy" in black friday comes in the form of references to bits from tgwdlm. tgwdlm is a horror COMEDY; black friday is a HORROR comedy

this isn't technically starkid, it's tin can bros, which is a sort of sibling company to starkid started by joey richter (ron), brian rosenthal (quirrel), and corey lubowich (mostly behind-the-scenes stuff, idk if he was involved in avpm/s at all), but if I spend more than ten minutes at a time thinking about spies are forever I lose my fuckin marbles. spies are forever is about an american spy during the cold war getting back into the field for the first time after the tragic death of his partner. it is obscenely funny-- another treat for lovers of joe walker, joey richter, and lauren lopez-- and also devastatingly gut-wrenching. all the songs are certified jams. I can't say too much about why I love it without spoiling the two massive twists at the end. it's just! it's so! please watch spies are forever. please do it

(personally I haven’t seen edgar allan poe’s murder mystery dinner party yet, but there’s a fair bit of overlap in the cast w saf. I got through my whole spiel before I realized I didn’t actually have to explain tin can bros to you but I was too lazy to delete it lmao)

hopefully that helps! if you want to talk more about my specific opinions regarding each show feel free to message me off anon!

[degenerate-perturbation]

Viv Reviews: Wayward Son by Rainbow Rowell

As part of my quest to read every edgy Harry Potter knockoff, I read Wayward Son.

I liked it much better than Carry On. Carry On was a confusing mess and I don’t really remember anything that happened in it. Wayward Son is a much more tightly plotted, emotionally coherent book, with many good ideas.

Is it good? No.

But here are some things I liked about it:

The plot construction. Checkov’s guns are ably placed in the first act, and fired in the third. The twists make sense, without being telegraphed. The story clips along at a reasonable pace and there is a consistent sense of motion and dynamism throughout that made me want to keep reading.

The Americana. I love all magical Americana. However, it is possible to fuck this trope up (see: CW’s Supernatural.) Wayward Son does this trope without fucking it up, and I’ll give it credit for that.

The inherent hilarity of British people interacting with America and being completely befuddled. For the duration of reading this book I felt about 4% more patriotic. There is a scene where the main characters are gearing up to fight the villains with magical spells but this is America and the villains brought guns and they just shoot them. This is hilarious and exactly what would happen.

The villains. The concept of a bunch of Silicon Valley techbros becoming vampires as like a biohacking project is brilliant, because I know so many people who would do that. I would do that. Las Vegas being run by old-school vampires and the two groups hate each other for Vampiring Wrong is also brilliant.

I really enjoyed the new muggle character. Shepard is a muggle who knows about magic and just really likes it and wants to be around it as like, a hobby. I would totally be this guy. Between him and the Silicon Valleys vampires I feel like the American characters in this book are spot-on as types of people who would exist in a setting where magic is real. So few urban fantasy books get this right, and Wayward Son kind of does!

Most of the characters do have coherent, detectable emotional arcs. They aren’t well-executed. But they exist! This is more than I could say for the previous book. Draco/Baz struggles with existing as a marginal vampire in mage society, or abandoning humanity to exist in vampire society. Hermione/Penelope takes a long series of L’s and comes to realize that she can’t actually do everything herself and should really have asked for help. Harry/Simon is depressed about not being a main character anymore.

The fact that Draco is a vampire for no obvious reason doesn’t seem as weird in Wayward Son as in Carry On because vampires are a major element of this book’s plot.

Harry and Draco’s relationship in this book is on the rocks, and it starts out seeming like they are going to break up. They still bicker a lot, despite being boyfriends, which makes perfect sense for people who disliked each other for most of the time they knew each other. This creates a fine thread of emotional tension throughout the story (I love conflict!) that, unfortunately, goes nowhere.

Here is what I did not like:

THE POV CHANGES. 

Oh my god, the POV changes are fucking intolerable. Do you guys remember those old fanfics where there was a POV change literally every paragraph and every event got described from 4 different characters’ point of view? This book does this so egregiously that part of me wonders if in fact Rowell is making the book bad on purpose to fit with the fanfiction thing--because her other books are fine! I know Rowell can write a perfectly respectable love story, so really, what gives?

This is really just one thing because I think all of the book’s flaws boil down to this supremely irritating structure. Here are some issues that I feel arise from it:

Characters do not really develop their relationships to each other, because all of their emotional turmoil happens in their first-person internal monologue. Simon and Baz never really work through their relationship issues because they do not talk to each other until the very end of the book. They live completely inside their own heads, straightfowardly telling the reader how they are feeling, without having to tell each other.

Similarly, I thought Penelope and Shepard were going to be a developing couple. They would make sense as a foil to Simon and Baz’s established (and crumbling) relationship, they interact quite a bit, Penelope gets dumped at the start of the book by her boyfriend for traits that Shepard explicitly values, and on a meta level, it is sensible to pair the most magical mage with a muggle. But they don’t really interact much on the page. I think about how much more interesting this relationship would have read if Penelope had worked through some of her issues with this guy, but she didn’t.

As a result, the character’s arcs do not really go anywhere satisfying, because they are all so inside their own heads! Without playing off each other, they don’t have opportunities to develop in a natural way. She just privately thinks her to herself that she’s in over her head, and that’s the end of it. We don’t see anyone challenge Penelope on her overconfidence or see her confess vulnerability to anyone. We don’t see Simon and Baz argue about their relationship; we just see them mutually, separately worry about it.

The other problem I have with Simon and Baz is that their relationship takes place entirely in terms of dramatic overwrought romantic inner monologue. The one time they interact with each other romantically on screen--we don’t actually see it! We just see ping-ponging POV of “He means the world to me” and “I only ever wanted him," which is wildly inconsistent with how they actually interact with each other, which is mostly tense in petty bickering. And that would have been perfectly fine if, say, it had lead to a break up and subsequent make up. That would have been a good trial-by-fire for this relationship! But it doesn’t happen. I’m left asking over and over again, why do these characters love each other? Why does he mean the world to him? Why should I care?

This is related to another issue with the book is that, like a fanfiction, it seems to require the context of “canon” events in order to make emotional sense. Simon and Baz keep referring back to their dynamic as roommates that hate each other to contextualize their present love for each other. But we never saw any of that happen! I don’t feel attachment to their pre-existing relationship because the pre-existing relationship is an informed quality.

And this is the problem with Simon himself, as a character. His arc in this book is about overcoming his depression and the burnout of being an ex-main-character. He and Penelope keep referencing adventures they’ve had that we weren’t there for, so how am I supposed to feel a sense of bittersweet nostalgia for then? It’s like hanging out with a group of friends who keep making inside jokes I don’t get. It’s alienating, and does the opposite of make me relate to these characters.

If I was reading about Harry Potter’s ex-main-character depression, this would read totally differently, because I would have already read seven years’ worth of Harry Potter’s wild adventures. A fanfiction about Harry’s post-traumatic stress about all those events would be perfectly suitable fanfiction subject. A book about Crypto-Harry-Potter’s post-traumatic stress over events we weren’t present for does not work nearly as well.

Finally, the dynamic of this trio does not work. What really worked for Harry, Ron, and Hermione is that each one of them was the awkward third friend. In Wayward Son, Penelope and Baz both have a relationship with Simon, but not really each other. And since the characters stay in their own heads, a new dynamic doesn’t really have space to develop.

Also, the prose just, isn’t very good. J. K. Rowling was not a master of prose, but Harry Potter felt magical. It felt like a fairy tale. With Wayward Son, I am Once Again reminded of this Ursula Le Guin quote, from her essay, “From Elfland to Poughkeepsie”:

Many readers, many critics, and most editors speak of style as if it were an ingredient of a book, like the sugar in a cake, or something added onto the book, like the frosting on the cake. The style, of course, is the book. If you remove the cake, all you have left is recipe. If you remove the style, all you have left is a synopsis of the plot.

This is a recipe for a book. A good recipe, with many good ingredients, but it utterly lacks style, making it just good enough to disappoint me.

Apparently there is going to be a threequel. Obviously I am going to read it.

[plutodexay]

For the first time in years (6)

Chapter 6, (What next) Ao3 (1796 words) 

It took him over a week to owl me. With anybody else this wouldn’t have been that big of a deal, but this is Draco Malfoy. The guy who would throw out his robes if so much as one stitch came loose. Last time he owled me it took 8 hours, maybe even shorter because I woke up with his owl already waiting for me. 

I was terrified that he wasn’t going to owl me. We didn’t exactly leave off on the best note. So maybe he was embarrassed he cried in front of me? Or that he opened up to me? Relatively there could've been hundreds of reasons as to why it took him so long. Hell, maybe he just wanted to keep me on edge, another one of his tricks. I can’t imagine he’d let those go as easily, it was almost like the twins giving up pranking. 

…

The owl came at 10pm, on a friday night, while I was entertaining friends. About anyone you’d expect was there. The twins had brought a whole trunk full of prototypes to hopefully only show people and not actively use in my house. Now that I think about it, I think they closed the trunk a lot easier at the end of the night then earlier in the evening. 

Ron had showed up early, bringing twenty times more candy than I needed him to. I don’t really know why, but he was convinced that everyone that would be attending would need two bowls of candy to themselves. Which goes to show why I’m the one always hosting the get togethers. My poor coffee table had at least ten bowls on it alone, that left hardly any room for people to actually put their drinks on the damn thing. 

Neville came in shortly after, who surprisingly was only fifteen minutes early as opposed to his usual thirty. He’d walked in apologizing for being late, of course it was only late on his terms.  Ron acted surprised and accused him of forgetting about us, he even did this whole monologue about lost friendship as he was putting his candy into all my clean bowls. He told us matter of factly he’d been late because he’d been on a walk with the Ravenclaw he’d been talking too and he’d simply lost track of time. Next thing I know there's candy on my floor and Ron is standing right infront of him trying to pry the details out of him. 

Seamus and Dean showed up about ten minutes later, Ron making me go answer the door while I was still cleaning up his candy on my own floor. They very quickly went straight to the muggle recliner beside my couch, not even a minute into being here and they’d managed to find one chair to “share”. They always do, sit in the same chair that is. They’ve done it ever since school, even when there was more space they were always practically on top of one another. Most of their night was spent laughing at me and whispering to each other, so really it was just like any other night. 

Hermione was right behind them, seemingly on an important phone call with someone in the ministry. I’ll always be grateful she convinced Kingsley to allow muggle technology into the ministry. Ya know? Cause what else would allow my friend to work 24/7 and ignore me for an hour at my own event? Definitely one of her better achievements.

Luna had shown up late, mumbling something about her earrings not wanting to work, still haven’t got the slightest clue what she meant by that seeing as she was wearing earrings. She’d brought Ginny with her, who was also mumbling about quidditch. The both of them and their constant mumbling, if you;d ask them to elaborate they’d act as if they didn’t say anything. They had taken up comfort on the stairs, then the floor, then the guest room, and quite honestly the farthest they could get from the twins that my house would allow. Over the years Ginny slowly started getting annoyed by their pranks, preferring to be able to ride her broom during practice than have it explode ink into her face the moment she got off the ground. I believe she regrets telling them that she’d test some of their products, none of them specified when and where. Half way through the night Luna had fallen asleep on Ginny so Hermione had to help keep the twins away, one of the few things she can’t really do.

…

Time had seemingly stopped when that owl came. It was like everyone had noticed the random owl at my window, at the exact same time. The owl was almost as composed as Draco, it just waited there, as if it had all the time in the world. 

The room had gone quiet, nobody really knowing who’s owl it was, or why I was getting an owl this late in the evening. It felt like hours before I slowly walked over to the window. The owl was simply waiting for me to grab the letter. Moments after doing so it found its way to Hedwig's treats. 

I unraveled the parchment slower than I walked over here. 

Dear Harry,

I’m sorry this letter was later than the last, I’m afraid I was called away on business shortly after our walk. You’d be shocked how quickly you must move in the potions business. I do hope this finds you at a somewhat reasonable hour, but knowing my owl I will be sorely mistaken. Acts like a child really, does what he wants when he wants without my supervision. 

Sadly it will be a few more days before I can return to London. This business truly takes a lot of attention, as annoying as it is. 

If it is all the same to you, I would truly enjoy ‘hanging out’ once again. This time rather, how about you pick the time and place? Maybe then you wouldn’t fumble your words as much. 

I’ll be awaiting a letter back, but please let my owl rest for a bit before doing so. If not he’ll tear up the parchment the moment you give it to him. 

Best regards,

Draco Malfoy.

“Well who’s it from?” Shouted Ron from his seat on the floor. Everyone humming in agreement. 

“Draco Malfoy.” Gasps came from all around the room. Murmurs from Ginny barely resonated in my head. The sheer fact that he actually wrote me all I could think of. His reasoning makes much more sense than ignoring me. He’s the one who started all of this, he’s the one who wanted this, right?

“What in the hell is Draco Malfoy owling you for?” Seamus asked, way too loudly. I could feel everyone staring at me. There eyes not moving as I slowly turn around, ready to face the wrath of the age old Gryfindor vs Slytherin rivalry. Just because he helped us doesn’t mean everyone forgave him. 

Just as I go to speak, Neville does it for me. 

“They’ve been talking recently.”He paused, smiling at me before he continued. “Draco came to him and asked for a second chance, and unlike most of us in the room, Harry is giving him that opportunity.”

“But why?” Dean asked, almost sounding annoyed. 

“Why not?” Ginny cut him off. 

Nobody said anything. Everyone was conflicted. Some of us managed to forgive people quicker than others. Death eaters and the War were never really brought up anymore, so I can imagine some people weren’t particularly happy with tonight's events. 

“I think it's quite mature of Harry, I always thought they’d have been a very good pair.” Luna said out of the blue. Her words seemingly shut everyone up. Mere seconds later everyone had gone back to what they were doing beforehand. 

Walking back into my kitchen, Ron and Neville followed. 

“So?” Ron said, sitting in the chair I was going to sit, grabbing a drink off the counter and taking a sip.

“So what?”

“What did he say?” Neville asked, leaning against the wall. 

“Does it really matter?”

“Does it really matter?” Ron said, obviously mocking me. He jumps out of his seat to stand right in front of me, his drink disregarded. “Of course it matters!” 

“We’ve been waiting just as long as you, we want to know what he has to say for himself.” Neville was now in the seat Ron was. Looking between Ron and I before Ron seemingly continued his thought. 

“We need to know his excuse for leaving us on edge!” He said exasperated, acting as if he might faint. “How dare he leave us waiting this long for a letter!” Nevilles laughter could be heard all throughout the kitchen. Ron slowly joined him. Shortly all of us were laughing at ourselves, the whole situation seeming ridiculous. 

Managing to catch my breath, I answer.

“He got called away for work, apparently the potions business is very demanding.” Both of them looked at me, Neville still catching his breath before grabbing a drink. Ron nodded, before speaking up.

“Mione told me there was a huge potions raid a few nights ago in France, both their and our ministries are freaking out. If anything that’s probably why he got called away.”  It’d make sense, some potion ingredients are so rare that the ministry will launch undercover missions to find them if they so much get out of place. 

“Did she tell you what was stolen?” Neville asked.

“No, you know how she is with that stuff.”

“Well I guess you can ask Draco next time then?” They were both looking at me.

“I guess, I don’t know if he’ll tell me.”

“Worth a shot” Ron laughed, patting my back before walking back into the main area. Neville getting up too.

“I hate to leave, but I’ve got to go. She invited me to a muggle movie and I don’t want to be late.” So the movie probably started in three hours then. 

“It’s alright.” I tell him, patting his shoulder before walking him to the door. “I’m glad you guys are getting along, you seem to really like her.”

“Yeah it’s going great.” We're standing in front of the door now, I open it for him and he walks out half way before turning around. “Make sure you write him back before you sleep, otherwise you’ll forget.” He says before walking down the street. 

Shit. Now, how does one respond to Draco Malfoy.

[senlinyu]

So, I don’t know if you remember it or not since it was ages ago, but I sent you an ask asking if H and D are happy after Manacled story. It was because the fact that H only had a couple of lines in that bloody book hit me so hard my brain decided to forget the previous chapter. And I recently read Manacled again and realised that they ARE actually happy! I didn’t read the last epilogue this time though. Now I’m gonna go and read the whole story again :) I might have questions!

Haha. Yeah. The reactions are varied. 😄

I did try to foreshadow that Hermione was going to end up a hidden figure in history, but the revelation definitely did hit people really hard, especially since it presented from Aurore’s side, rather than being cushioned by Hermione’s indifference.

It was a bit of a struggle to decide how present the epilogues. I could have leaned harder into the happiness, but I didn’t want it to be dismissive of the hardship and the trauma they’d gone through in order to finally be safe and happy. I didn’t want to pretend those scars just magically disappeared or to downplay who Draco was and who Hermione had become in process of loving him. But I do think that fundamentally they were happy. They had exactly what they wanted most. There were good days and bad days for them, but they loved each other and they were together for the rest of their lives, and those were the two things that were the most essential for them.

Hermione’s little monologue to Draco about what she wanted was what I modeled the epilogues after:

“I didn’t do anything I’ve done because I expected to be seen as heroic.” She scoffed. “I don’t require laurels. When this war is over—,” she looked away as she caught new sections of hair and laced them into her braids, “—if the Order wins…” She swallowed. “If we win, there’s a good chance that Kingsley, Moody and I could all eventually be convicted of war crimes.

She met Draco’s eyes in the reflection of the mirror. “I will never be a hero. I knew that when I chose to train as a healer. That’s never been the reason for any of my choices.”

She finished one braid and started on the other.

“Potter is worth that much to you?”

The corner of her mouth quirked. “It's more than that. Harry is my best friend, but the war is bigger than Harry or anyone else.”

Her hands stilled, and she stood silent for a moment.

“I want—,” she started and then paused and drew a short breath. “I want the next Muggle-born witch with stars in her eyes to come into a world that welcomes her. A world where she doesn’t have to constantly re-earn her right to be there and isn't treated like wanting to exist is stealing something from someone else. Where she’ll get to grow up and graduate. Get any job she wants, get married and have children, and grow old with someone. I didn’t—,” her voice broke off briefly. “I—won’t get to have any of those things. I want to make the world I wanted to live in.”

Draco tried to provide Hermione with all the things that she wanted that were within his power to give her, and I think he succeeded for the most part.

[languidbones]

Scorose Shipping Challenge

Just a bit of random fun. Stole this from @samesanegirl​ - apparently it’s really old but I thought, well why the hell not. If you’re into Scorose, feel free to answer these too – would love to read your response :D

1. When did you start shipping Scorose?

Early 2015, which is late af! But I was very on-and-off with the pairing (was into other fandoms at the time). I believe Cursed Child was released a year after I started to ship Scorose.

2. Favorite ship name: Scorose or Rosius?

Scorose. Nothing against Rosius – though it does sound like it could be the name of another Slytherin boy, doesn’t it?

3. Would you like J.K. Rowling to write a book about the next generation?

No. I did like Cursed Child for what it was, but based on what’s happening with Fantastic Beasts, I do think she should leave the magnificent HP universe alone now.

4. What is your favorite Scorose fan fiction, and what is it about?

I actually stopped reading Scorose fanfiction the moment I started writing them, because I have the tendency of not writing at all once I go on a reading binge. I just regret not bookmarking the ones I really loved, because I read too many to count! The one that still stands out in my mind in the sea of fic I did read is The Hospital Bed Monologue by Graeliars. It’s absolutely wonderful.

5. Which Houses do you believe that Scorpius and Rose would be sorted into? The same or different ones?

Slytherin Scorpius and Gryffindor Rose is a classic combination. But it’s interesting to imagine them in different houses for the fun of it, just to see what unexpected stories can come from those.

6. How do you think their relationship would evolve? Would they start off as friends, or start off as enemies?

I apologise for being a borefest, but I actually quite like the traditional friends-to-lovers trope, though this pairing is definitely capable of a compelling love/hate dynamic. In my mind, however, it’s not the starting point that matters; the story is always found in their differences. I’ve always loved the thought of them being completely indifferent to each other at the start, before friendship somehow happens... and then the attraction just hits them over the head like a Bludger! On the other hand, I’m also partial to the simple idea of Scorpius obsessing over Rose for a long time ala Cursed Child, before finding some (either hilarious or romantic) way of letting her know properly.

7. Say one of your personal headcanons.

Delinquent Scorpius has a crush on bookworm Rose, and she’s literally the only reason he goes to the library. It’s completely unoriginal and a total cliche... I hope to write it eventually rofl.

For some reason, I have the impression that Rose is an uncommonly sincere person, and that Scorpius – no matter what his behaviour – was raised to have beautiful manners.

8. Do you have a favorite Scorose video?

Ah, no. I much prefer the fan art.

9. Name a few songs that remind you of Scorose.

Old Fashioned by Bruno Major perfectly conveys the type of romance I see Scorose evolving into. Four Walls by Broods was also one of the first songs I associated with the pairing :)

10. Name some of your pet peeves in Scorose fan fictions.

- Pointless miscommunication. Or a character being obtuse even if something is blatantly obvious. If a matter can be easily solved with a conversation, solve it with a conversation and move on!

- Lack of female friendships for Rose, and showcasing other girls as unreasonably jealous, mean or bitchy.

- Sex without intimacy. Though this can definitely be hot if written well.

- One-dimensional Albus :(  And in the same vein, unreasonable!Ron or cheerful!Draco.

- I hate the idea of Scorpius dating anyone else in the Potter-Weasley clan in a Scorose fic, ie. Lily or Dominique or whoever else.

- Constant focus on “Who are you dating??” in a fic gets old really quick, for me at least. I like it when we learn about Rose and Scorpius’ lives beyond their love lives.

- Rose being described as ‘one of the boys’ or ‘not like other girls’ – this saddens me the most, probably. She comes from a family full of strong, brilliant women. Of course she respects her own gender, and absolutely proud to be ‘one of the girls’.

11. Who do you think they were friends with?

Rose is definitely best friends with Albus and close to Lily. She and Hugo are cutely protective of each other. She’s really social, and is happy to have a large circle of friends beyond family.

An Albus/Scorpius friendship is practically a requisite. I do also like the idea of loner!Scorpius, or generally him just being choosey af about who he associates with. #standards

12. What personality do you reckon Rose would have?

Rose is wildly intelligent, but she isn’t book-smart the way Hermione is – rather, it’s her imagination and curiosity that defines her. She might fail a subject she has zero interest in, yet be the go-to expert on some hilariously obscure topic. Ron definitely treats her like the centre of his world, and Hermione will teach her well – as a result, Rose is affectionate, warm-hearted and well aware of her own worth. Her parents’ constant verbal sparring may also see Rose playing peacemaker from childhood, which makes her a bit of a supporting character in her own household... a role I see her accepting with grace and good humour. 

13. What personality do you reckon Scorpius would have?

Scorpius’ childhood is fraught with opposing socio-political views from his parents and grandparents, and therefore he learns early on that he has to be vocal in order to defend what he believes in. Has the temper of a mad man, and the most tender of hearts. Thanks to Astoria, he has lovely manners; thanks to Draco, he does have a taste for the finer things in life. He’s deeply intriguing to others, but is reserved and hard to know – possibly his way of avoiding misunderstandings, as others aren’t likely to give Malfoys the benefit of the doubt. But once you win his friendship or love, he is loyal to a fault... and would move entire worlds to protect you. Also, as random as this is – I just see Scorpius as the sort who has a thing for expensive cars, and has zero qualms walking into a Ferrari showroom to buy something he doesn’t yet know how to drive.

14. Is Scorose a ship you’d typically ship (do you have ships that are similar to Scorose?) or are they unique to you?

This is so embarrassing but I literally die for the Bad Boy and Good Girl trope, which sometimes seeps into the way I write Scorose... I also ship Rey/Kylo Ren (Star Wars), for example. I used to adore Lily/James, but that was before we got to know James better in canon (and I’m not such a huge fan of that portrayal). I did also like Harry/Ginny a lot when I was younger. Maybe because I relate to her type of anxieties around a long-time crush.

15. Recommend a good Scorose blog (if you know one).

@scorpiusrose for sure. She’s like an encyclopaedia of Scorose fic, and half the reason I always give up on making reccs... just visit her lol.

[ryanmeft]

The Hate U Give Movies-at-Home Review

If progressive values demands that each group of people get their own versions of movies which have commonly been made about white people for decades, The Hate U Give, based on a popular book by Angie Thomas, is an important step for African Americans: their very own overwrought drama. You might also recognize this sub-genre as “Oscar Bait”, though it has lost much of its power there in the last five years. They were always about Great Big Events, starring Larger Than Life Characters, full of Grand Speeches and Important Moments. The Great Big Event this movie focuses on is Black Lives Matter, though it isn’t called that. The good guys are clear, the bad guy is obvious and obviously evil, the dialogue is meant to sound good in isolated sound bytes rather than to be believable, and it does indeed have plenty of Important Moments.

If it is so cliche, then, and it is, why does it work as often as it does? It must be the performances. The movie centers initially on the life of Starr Carter (Amandla Stenberg), a teenage girl who is too smart for her working class neighborhood but too, well, black to really be accepted at her upscale High School. Her father Maverick (Russell Hornsby) did time taking the fall for drug lord King (Anthony Mackie), who let him out of the life and bought him a store in return. He is fierce with the need to impress on her and her brothers (Lamar Johnson and TJ Wright) that they should not expect anything from the white community. Her mother Lisa (Regina Hall) tries to soften the message and impress on her that the world will give her a place if she tries hard enough. Then her childhood friend and first crush Khalil (Algee Smith) is shot and killed by a trigger happy white police officer for reaching for a brush.

The movie is clearly meant to mirror the events surrounding the shooting of St. Louis teen Michael Brown and the subsequent rise of Black Lives Matter. It is unapologetic in its views of relations between cops and black people. In the universe of the film, there is no cop anywhere who cares about black people, even the black ones. White people in general not only don’t understand, but misunderstand in an incredibly simple and stupid way; Starr’s friend Hailey (Sabrina Carpenter) seems to exist to be given all the dumbest arguments ever made by a white person to justify the shooting of a black one, and she is almost cartoonishly evil about it, not so much a character as a repository for dumb online comments. Starr’s officer uncle Carlos, who helped raise her while her father was in prison, is also reduced to the role of an opinion cipher, as his primary purpose is a scene in which he admits he would shoot a black man with less cause than a white one. The hilariously named April Ofrah (Issa Rae) is an activist lawyer whose only goal is to expose police violence against black people, and who wants to use the fact that Starr witnessed Khalil’s shooting to the advantage of the cause.

My job is to decide whether all this blatant politicizing harms the movie. No…and yes. It does not harm it in the sense that the messages are well delivered structurally. But Starr and her family are immensely engaging characters dealing with serious and complex problems, and this is often interrupted so the film can tell you more or less directly what it thinks. She wants to ensure Khalil’s legacy means something, but does not want to endanger her family by drawing attention to the fact he worked for King. This is a serious conundrum, though it is also the kind of thing movies usually dismiss with unrealistically ease. Stenberg offers up a star-making performance, and even the most politically motivated lines she is given sound sincere and heartfelt when she says them. Hornsby and Hall capture the pains and strains of a couple who recognize their world will always be dangerous, but who also don’t want to control their children. A key role is Riverdale’s K.J. Apa as Starr’s boyfriend Chris, and the only sympathetic white person the film has. Given film’s history with the shamefully lazy Token Black Guy trope, this feels like a sort of creative justice, even if it hurts the story.

Mackie, Carpenter and Rae’s roles are more of a stumbling block. Mackie is given zero redeeming qualities, and exists primarily to give the movie a black villain in an attempt to avoid having an all-white rogues gallery. I would have preferred they didn’t. Mackie is an excellent actor, and the message that it doesn’t take a white person to hurt a black neighborhood is received, but King himself is one note, the kind of person who sets fire to a store with kids inside just because his quota of damsels tied to railroad tracks is a little behind that month. Carpenter’s faithless friend is likewise one-note, the sort of Draco Malfoy-esque stereotype that producers make deliberately horrible so that we feel no conflict when they get the crap beat out of them. Perhaps the most off-putting character is Rae’s. Ofrah (seriously, that name) is so clearly manipulating the feelings of a minor child to serve her own goals that it borders on abusive. The film, however, never explores this, preferring to take a rather slimy character and force her into the role of an unquestioned hero.

Where Audrey Wells’ screenplay and George Tillman Jr.’s direction score a direct hit is in Starr’s family and social life. I’ve rarely seen a group of actors more convincingly communicate that they are blood, in fact or in spirit. An opening scene in which Maverick teaches his children, when younger, how not to get shot by police left my mind quiet; it is incredibly well done because it is a social message second and a man showing real concern for his kids first. From the scene in which Khalil and Starr meet at a party to the shooting is as skillful a bit of character work as I have seen in 2018, as Stenberg and Smith share the kinds of conversations that can only happen when you have known someone a very long time, and his death spiked my emotions and arrested my logic, particularly as the cop simply watches him bleed out. Starr’s inner monologue is entirely free of the movie’s political purpose, and only discusses the events as she sees them, in the ways that affect her. I normally don’t care for narration, but in this case it helps to emotionally ground events that sometimes seem more sermon than story.

The era when a blatantly message-oriented melodrama like this one earned all the awards is long gone, and many other films in the past few years have portrayed the struggle of being black in America with more effective stories and less preaching. The movie is worth watching not to get told how the world is, but to see the dynamics of a family struggling through personal events that demand to become public. It may not be great, but it is effective.

Verdict: Recommended

Note: I don’t use stars, but here are my possible verdicts.

Must-See

Highly Recommended

Recommended

Average

Not Recommended

Avoid like the Plague

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[disillusionist9]

Mini-drabble game- 44. “So, I found this waterfall…”

drabble prompt list here, have some unresolved drarry angst…

“So, I found this waterfall, yeah? The mirage turned out to be a bit more substantial than an illusion. Ha! Evans, the Curse Breaker from the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes - you know, the one who wears a white bowtie every day? Yeah, he even wore it out there. I know!”

Harry Potter pressed harder and harder with his quill into his paperwork. Cramped desks piled high with documents, memos, forms, and more than a few smoking artifacts, all were jammed into an office in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. A row of red Auror robes hung by the door, ready for the team to dress at a moment’s notice. The summer heat that made the Atrium feel stuffy was nearly unbearable in the small space. Everyone could feel the tension.

Heedless of the glares his coworkers were throwing him, Auror Stone continued to monologue to a vaguely interested cleaning witch who absently cleared another bin in the hallway. He leaned, he smirked, he rolled up his sleeves; he ignored his work.

Ron Weasley tapped his toes impatiently under the desk opposite Harry. “I’ll wring that man’s neck if he doesn’t shut up soon.”

“It’s lunch soon, we can get away from him then,” Harry said. His knuckles were starting to hurt from how hard he was abusing his quill. “Don’t need another report.”

“Are you actually eating with us today or are you working lunch again?”

Harry looked up from his files, another case completely closed and sent away for the archive. “I’m working lunch. Tell Hermione that Kreacher has been complaining about not being able to make a huge meal and that the lunch crew is all invited.”

“I mean, you should tell her yourself, mate.”

“Ron, I want to be done with these files and my walking report before next week, or at least before I’m dead. Just tell her, please? I’m going to send owls with the date.”

Ron didn’t argue further, but the conversation had distracted him enough to ignore Auror Stone until his lunch time. Another token effort to get Harry to come with later, and Ron left with a few other recruits from the office in tow.

Once the group was gone long enough that Harry knew they weren’t coming back, he discreetly cast a spell on his desk to continue sorting the piles in his absence. Something simple. Sorting the forms by date instead of a more complicated algorithm. The last time he’d had to explain the pile of ash on his desk to his Department Head.

He passed the cleaning witch Auror Stone was chatting up on his way down the hall. Going the opposite way as the canteen brought him further down into the Ministry, taking the stairs instead of the elevator where that was an option. Walking down a dark stone corridor behind the courtrooms, he reached the narrow doorway of a clerk’s office and knocked a sloppy pattern.

“Enter,” a crisp voice said.

Harry slipped in and shut the door before someone could walk by and notice him. All anyone did was notice him. He was surprised at how few people seemed to be aware of what he did on his working lunches.

The dark rimmed glasses on Draco Malfoy’s face glinted a bit when he looked up to greet his guest. “Early lunch today.”

“Not that you seem surprised.” Harry couldn’t help his relaxed smile when he settled into the chair opposite Draco. “Did Kreacher let you near the kitchen this morning or did he deliver breakfast?”

“Your elf is a delightful menace. He had all the books I needed before I’d even brushed my teeth.”

Harry let his head loll back a bit in the chair while he waited for Draco to finish whatever he was working on. Very few people knew that he worked down here, in the cramped offices tucked behind the courtrooms, one of the dozen clerks working almost around the clock in an effort to clean up archives and manage the rotating schedule of hearings, trials, motions…and other types of congregation Harry couldn’t remember. That was Draco’s department. He focused on the footwork side of the law.

“Did you invite everyone over for your birthday?”

Without looking up, Harry sighed and folded his hands over his stomach to get more comfortable. The entire idea of having a birthday dinner to mingle his Gryffindor pack with the new friends he had through Draco was his, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t nervous. Introducing Draco as a friend seemed difficult enough. If they knew he was staying overnight…it wasn’t worth thinking about yet.

“Harry?”

“Yeah, I did. I’ll need to send owls tonight.”

Something in the silence on the other side of the office made Harry believe Draco wouldn’t let him forget.

Draco carefully charmed away his own paperwork to leave his desk bare. Another spell cast a protection charm over the old wood so when they ate their lunch, the surface would be unscathed. A large takeaway bag packed by Kreacher spread a small picnic lunch between them. Neither appreciated the scrutiny of the packed canteen.

“How’s the Porter case going?” Draco asked, wiping his fingers delicately on the cloth napkin by his side.

Harry picked at a cucumber in his sandwich. “As well as can be expected, I guess. I need to go back out to the neighborhood by the park and speak to a few more Muggles, but I need to get a different disguise and badge from Auror Stone. We don’t like impersonating Muggle law enforcement this often.”

“Hmm,” Draco hummed in reply. It sounded uninterested, but Harry knew he would have a suggestion and plan of action prepared for dinner in the next hour, and it would be delivered with nonchalance, as if he’d only just thought of it. The thought made him smile again. Draco caught it. “What?”

“Auror Stone said something today that made me think…what do you say we go to the Sahara Desert and look for a waterfall instead of having this dinner?”

“Do you really not want to do this?”

Harry paused before he spoke, something he was learning to do more since trying to court Draco Malfoy. Every word counted. “I don’t want it to erupt into something it’s not. I just…”

“I won’t break, Potter.” Ice coated every syllable in Draco’s voice. The surname address didn’t go unnoticed. He waited for Harry to find the words, but when a minute had passed, his eyes narrowed. “Am I just a dirty secret to you?”

“No! Draco, no, I-”

“Have you told anyone that you’re fucking a Death Eater yet?”

“Don’t call yourself that!”

Draco stood and slammed his hands on his desk, making an inkwell tip over onto the tablecloth, the black stain spreading enough to soak into Harry’s discarded crusts. “It’s what I am, Potter! The Mark is still on my arm and my family’s vaults are still locked under Ministry claims of restitution. I am working as a clerk in an office too small for a house elf to nest in, working fourteen hours a day on grimy paperwork that means nothing except forcing me to pay a price for my crimes. My parents are on house arrest and I would be too if I wasn’t sixteen at initiation. The world knows me as a Death Eater, and you can’t change that.”

“I didn’t mean-”

“You never mean, do you, Potter? Please leave. I have paperwork to finish.”

It was Harry’s turn to stand. “Draco, let me explain-”

“Leave before I make you.”

A lump formed in Harry’s throat. The door shut with a threatening finality behind him, forced by a spell cast by Draco inside. He rubbed his nose  where the wood smacked into his face.

What the fuck had he done?