Permanent Hesitation

Rating: E

Word Count: 2k

Summary:

Ottery St Catchpole is getting festive for midwinter. Maybe this year, Healer Potter and Fire Chieftain Malfoy will stop dancing around each other.

For dear @getawayfox.

Read it on AO3

Harry stares at a fitted sheet with a hole worn through the middle. He’s had it for years and it shows: fabric thinned to gauze, edges fraying. The rest of the bedding isn’t much better. There’s even a mysterious brown stain on the pillowcase.

He’s never noticed any of this before.

But Draco Malfoy is coming to stay, and Harry is doing the bedsheets for him. Malfoy doesn’t have a place to stay. Harry has plenty of spare bedrooms.

These sheets, though. Harry imagines showing Malfoy into the room, the stain glaring like an accusation.

Clearly, neither of them has their life together. At least they have that in common.

Still. This won’t do.

Harry tosses the sheet into the corner, grabs his jacket, and steps into the cold. If he hurries, he’ll make it to the shops before they close, before Malfoy arrives.

Harry stares at a fitted sheet with a hole worn through the middle. He’s had it for years and it shows: fabric thinned to gauze, edges fraying. The rest of the bedding isn’t much better. There’s even a mysterious brown stain on the pillowcase.

He’s never noticed any of this before.

But Draco Malfoy is coming to stay, and Harry is doing the bedsheets for him. Malfoy doesn’t have a place to stay. Harry has plenty of spare bedrooms.

These sheets, though. Harry imagines showing Malfoy into the room, the stain glaring like an accusation.

Clearly, neither of them has their life together. At least they have that in common.

Still. This won’t do.

Harry tosses the sheet into the corner, grabs his jacket, and steps into the cold. If he hurries, he’ll make it to the shops before they close, before Malfoy arrives.

Drarry advent calendar day 11 : old man yaoi

They’re 110 years old and still doing dates !

Tarot Fest Art Claim: Union

I did this one for the Two of Cups for @hd-tarot! I bet you were all very surprised this one was mine.

I love running this fest, so many amazing things come out of it and I love seeing and reading everyone's interpretations of the cards!!

Xmas market Drarry for the soul 🙂‍↕️

How the Minister Stole Christmas

(or at least tried to cancel it)

Old Minister Malfoy is brooding alone, On a paperwork hill. A bureaucracy throne.

But just why is the Minister feeling so flat? So spiky and lonely and cross as a bat?

While the season is sparkling with laughter and cheer. He has nobody (no one!) to wish “Glad New Year!”

Outside, all of London is twinkling with bliss. Which only makes Draco more certain of THIS:

“Christmas SPIRIT is a scourge, It’s a pain and a bore! It plagues every wizard and witch by the score. They should behave with decorum! With grace and discretion! Not indulge in this mistletoe snogging obsession!”

He clenches his jaw as he pictures a scene: The Weasleys all merry and red and obscene. Sitting around eating puddings and pies, Drunk on cheap mead, he thinks, rolling his eyes. With vile jumpers! And singing! And terrible jokes! And Potter with GINNY! “Disgusting”, he chokes. “Canoodling by the fire, all cosy and SMUG, While I get NO present! No pudding! No hug!”

He paces in fury, his boots striking sparks. He grouses, “I’ll end it. I’ll stamp out their larks.”

Then suddenly—POW!—like a hex to his brain, A wicked thought hits him, fast as a train. His eyes narrow slowly. His grin curls and gleams. “Oh yes,” he declares, “what a WONDERFUL scheme. What an awful and terrible and LOVELY idea. I’m a mastermind. Genius! A great puppeteer!”

He leaps to his desk with dramatic elan, And pens a quick edict to kick off his plan:

He signs, duplicates, before sending away, The owls racing off as if hunting their prey. Then sits back, content (now the missives have flown) That NO ONE will revel if HE is alone.

Draco cackles, actually cackles, yes CACKLES with glee; A whole day of boredom and bureaucracy. No sparkles, no twinkles, no laughter or cheer No mistletoe, mince pies, no bloody reindeer.

“Let THEM be the lonely ones! Let them despair! And Potter so blasé, with no sodding care That I, their dear Minister, so dashing! So tragic! Is left friendless, bereft, with no Yuletide magic.”

On the 25th he dons his big cloak with the cowl. In the mirror he perfects a sharp sneer and a scowl. Through Floo-space he whooshes, rehearsing a speech, But crossing the Atrium, he halts with a screech.

“There you are, Malfoy! Merry Christmas, boss!” Potter—his voice warm, His voice bright and NOT CROSS.

Potter scratches his neck, His hair is a sight, And Draco’s lungs go all stuttery, fluttery-tight.

“I’m glad you’re here, Minister. I hoped you’d appear. You vanish on holidays every damn year.”

Draco’s glower subsides like a house made of cheese. His chest wrenches and whirls with a bloody great squeeze.

His brilliant and villainous plan falls apart, For Potter's HAPPY to see him And it wallops his heart… Which thumps and it bumps like a runaway hex, Expands, explodes, grows thrice in his chest.

“You missed me?” he gasps. Potter nods. “Yes, of course.” Now, what’s that Draco’s feeling? Why yes, it’s REMORSE.

The world seems to wobble, to flicker, to totter. A voice in his head says, Oh Merlin! Oh Potter!

“But Christmas! I cancelled it… I’ve been such an arse! You and Weaslette… I thought— Oh, what a farce!”

But Potter just laughs, pulls him close, soft and steady. “You prat. You magnificent prat. I’ve been ready To tell you I want you, for AGES AND AGES. And you cancelled Christmas? That’s… actually?… courageous.”

Draco blinks, quite bemused by the change in his lot, But Potter keeps grinning, all eager and hot.

And Draco, still breathless, can only decree: “Fine. Christmas is BACK. But you’ll spend it with me!”

hate what people did to the dead dove tag

mothers and fuckers of the jury. "Dead dove: do not eat" is a label on a bag in the fridge. It means "the content of this bag is exactly what is labeled". It does not mean "trigger warning uhhh something". In fact, it means the exact opposite of "trigger warning uhhh something", because you use it with other tags. You write a fucked up fic with extreme violence and gore, you tag it as "extreme violence", "gore" and you tag it with "dead dove: do not eat". You write a fic with emotional abuse, gaslighting and manipulation, you tag it with "emotional abuse", "gaslighting" and "dead dove: do not eat". You write a fic with your extremely niche kink that appeals to like 3 other people and may skeeve out the rest of the fandom, you tag that with your kink and "dead dove: do not eat". It's so people know you really mean the content warnings.

It's NOT a catch-all term for "uhhh this may be fucked idk". TAG YOUR SHIT GENEROUSLY.

strongly-worded letters

Idk if I did this one already but this is for @drarrymicrofic prompt: ruin. CW: toxic parent (aka: Lucius Malfoy's A+ Parenting)

Son,

I suppose congratulations are in order. Of course, applying for admission to Alfred Moorewick's apprenticeship programme is a gamble, in which you have, surprisingly, emerged successful.

Please do not let such fortune blind you to your responsibility to the Malfoy name. I do hope that your work ethic has improved since Hogwarts. Should you apply the same effort in this position as I imagine you did in working to achieve it, I would expect the results to be acceptable.

I suggest keeping me apprised of your correspondence with Moorewick, particularly whilst he might still change his mind. It would be foolish to risk letting one of your impulses ruin this opportunity.

Regards,

Your Father

_________________________

Dear Lucius,

I'm sure you were expecting a reply from Draco. Luckily for you, I arrived home before him and accidentally opened your letter, which you'll see I've also returned to you.

I typically respect my fiancé's wishes enough not to meddle where I'm sure he doesn't want me to. But, quite frankly, if I saw anyone speak to Draco this way, I'd knock them flat on their arse in a heartbeat. A good parent would never want to be the source of their child's pain. I would still pick losing my parents over having a father like you, any day.

But I should expect nothing less from a selfish, insecure prick like you. Your letter reeks of jealousy; yes, I know you didn't get accepted for an apprenticeship with Moorewick when you were Draco's age. How does it feel knowing that he did what you couldn't, while under far more difficult circumstances? And before you start thinking I had anything to do with it, let me assure you; the giant, stinking turd to which you—and you alone—have reduced the Malfoy name dwarfs the benefit of any celebrity I have. Draco got accepted entirely on his own merit; I didn't do a thing. He got in because of himself; in spite of you.

It is because I love Draco that I am giving you a chance to—for once in your life—not be an arsehole. And, don't worry, I spelled a copy of your letter, and of this one, to show Draco, if you decide to escalate this beyond our conversation. I'll tell him the truth and be more than willing to take whatever annoyance he has at me for interfering if it means I might be able to stop you from spoiling this moment for him.

The only two good decisions you ever made in your sorry life were marrying Narcissa and having Draco. He says he keeps trying to save his relationship with you for her sake, but I know better and—for all your idiocy—so do you. He might be willing to put up with your bullshit, but you should know—more than anyone else alive—what I'm willing to do for the people I love.

So, Lucius, you have a choice: begin the very long overdue work of becoming even half the father Draco deserves, or stay the same shitstain you've always been.

I suggest thinking long and fucking hard about your choice. It would be foolish to let your impulses ruin this opportunity.

Sincerely,

Harry Potter

They work very responsibly at the Ministry of Magic and certainly don't get distracted by each other

I wanted to draw a tree.

Some of my favorite pages from my H/D Career Fair Comic! You can check out all of “Style Meets Disaster (A 45-Page Comic)” Here! On Ao3

I had so much fun (and blood and sweat and tears) making this but I’m happy with how it turned out :3 I’m living out my Harry listens to Radiohead and has an unusual relationship with clothes HCs…

harry getting constantly turned on by his godfather is a problem

into that good night

_ _ _

The resonant pounding upon the front door sounds at 1:43am. Harry stumbles into the foyer, sleep-laden, fist curled around his drawn wand.

The wards remain resolutely down, the Floo refusing to do anything but sputter.

It’s been a back-and-forth game of telephone (the Muggle sort) with Hermione & Ron for the better part of 72 hours. It’s the first night he hasn’t slept at his office in five days.

At the sight of Draco on his stoop, he exhales, tucking him inside with a hand wrapped around his elbow.

“Malfoy,” he sighs, settling.

Draco shoves his wand forward, into Harry’s hand. “Cast something,” he says soft into the quiet hour.

Harry takes it in his fingers, absent, only still the half-bit-wakeful, and glances to Draco’s side. “Where’s your broom?”

Draco responds with a gesture as dismissive as it is brief. “Never mind that. A spell, any spell. Lumos. Leviosa. A bloody Tempus, if you please.”

Harry’s brow crinkles. “I told you to fly if you needed—”

Draco’s composure cracks, splitting from seam to seam. “Potter, I can’t. Now, cast something.”

“Lumos,” Harry calls, and the dark stays dark, night still steadily night.

A sound strangles in Draco’s throat. “Again,” he says, forcing the word forward.

Harry breathes, blinks himself into focus, consciousness crystallizing. “Lumos,” he says.

The dark dares him to defy it. Does not gloat when he fails.

He falters a mere moment, then fetches his mobile from its shelf.

“Who are you calling?” Draco inquires, and Harry’s glad for the question to break the quiet.

“Hermione,” he says.

“And then?”

Draco’s voice isn’t a calm that comforts— it’s a calm that carries the weight of omens, of acrimoniously-accepted uncertainty.

Harry’s eyes lock on his in the dim. The small lamp in the entryway, the streetlights, cast shadows that make the moment soften then shutter.

“And then the Minister.”

The line rings.

Draco "Harry Just Kissed Me" Malfoy