fandom: harry potter
ship: harry potter/ron weasley
word count: 1230
also on ao3 and ffn
Harry realizes that best friends can make the best boyfriends too.
Harry sighed, rolled over, and stared at the Quidditch players on the nearest Chudley Cannons poster. He could barely make it out in the dark, but it was mildly more entertaining than if he were to lie there with his eyes closed. Either way, he doubted he’d be getting any sleep. It was just one of those nights.
“You awake?” Ron’s voice was a welcome break from the silent monotony.
“Yeah, I’m awake,” Harry replied quietly, tucking an arm up under his head as he glanced in the direction of his friend.
He counted his breaths as he waited for Ron to answer. One, two, three, four, five, six...
“Good. C’mere.”
Sitting up, Harry slipped out from under the covers of his camp bed, taking the few quick steps across the room to get into bed with Ron instead. This wasn’t the first time they’d done this, exactly, though it wasn’t a common occurrence either. Sometimes late night conversations just seemed to necessitate being closer together. Harry curled up comfortably under the covers, the two of them just barely far enough apart to keep from touching.
“What’s up, mate?” he asked, squinting at the blurry shape of Ron’s face. What could be bothering him so late at night?
“Do you fancy Ginny?” Ron asked in reply, not looking at him. Harry just blinked at him, dumbfounded. Surely he must have misheard.
“Uh, could you repeat that?” he said, hoping it might make more sense the second time around. Ron huffed softly, and Harry hoped that it was too late at night for him to get too worked up. He was far from in the mood for a row.
“Do you fancy Ginny?” Ron repeated, nudging him this time for good measure.
“No, I don’t,” Harry said, eyes wide. Where had that idea even come from? “I mean, she’s brilliant, sure, but I don’t. I don’t like her that way.”
“Alright, good. I really didn’t want to give you the whole ‘hurt my sister and I’ll hurt you’ talk, with you being my best mate and all.” Ron chuckled, and didn’t pull away after nudging him, leaving them closer than before.
“Does it seem like I do?” Harry’s nose scrunched up in confusion as he tried to think of where Ron might have gotten such an idea, but quickly, another thought came to mind. “Is that really what you wanted to talk about?”
“No, not exactly.”
“Then what is it?” Harry asked with a sigh. It wasn’t like Ron at all to be so nervous and evasive with him. “Just tell me.” Without even consciously thinking about it, he inched closer, slinging an arm around Ron. The warmth of their bodies pressed together was nice, and it made Harry feel a little less alone.
“No, it’s...whatever,” Ron grumbled, tangling their legs together. Harry snorted disbelievingly, but relaxed into him, deciding not to mention that they were properly cuddling now. It didn’t seem like Ron was actually going to say whatever it was, so Harry decided he might as well retaliate for his questioning about Ginny.
“Do you fancy Hermione?”
Ron was silent for a long moment.
“No. I thought I did, but...no. I don’t think so. It’s all so confusing,” he groaned, leaning his head against Harry’s shoulder. “Girls are confusing.”
“Yeah, they really are,” Harry replied with a low laugh. “Sometimes I’m not sure I like the idea of having a girlfriend at all.”
“There’s not anyone worthy of the great Harry Potter?” Ron teased, lifting his head up and raising an eyebrow at him. “Better not let too many people hear that, or they’ll really start thinking you have an ego problem.” Harry’s face flushed, and he shrugged.
“I never said no one, and it’s not about worthiness,” he said, struggling to think of a way to explain.
“No, I get it. I feel the same way, I think.”
Harry wasn’t sure what to say. Did Ron actually understand what he was getting at, that he might like blokes instead?
“Maybe we should just date each other instead,” Ron joked, smirking at him in the dark.
“Fuck off,” Harry grumbled, elbowing him in the ribs.
Ron just snickered, wrapping his arms around him in return, and Harry wondered if that suggestion had been entirely a joke.
“...Do you still have nightmares a lot?” he asked, softer, and Harry nodded.
“Yeah, I do.”
“I’ve been having nightmares too,” Ron admitted. “I know they’re not as bad as yours but...I’ve been worrying about what’s going to happen. If we’re actually going to wind up okay in the end.” Ah. So that's what he really wanted to talk about.
“I don’t know,” Harry replied honestly. “I hope so. I think it’s normal to be worried about it, though.”
“Stay here until we go back to Hogwarts,” Ron mumbled, grip on Harry tightening.
“Well, yeah, I always do,” Harry said, puzzled. “Where else would I go?”
“No, I mean...” Even in the dark, they were close enough that Harry could see Ron blushing. “You should do this every night. Sleep in my bed. Probably more comfortable than that old thing anyway,” he said, nodding towards where Harry usually slept.
“Yeah, okay.” He nodded, letting his lips just barely brush against Ron’s cheek. “I can do that.”
“Maybe it’ll help us both sleep a little better.”
“I, uh, wouldn’t mind doing it sometimes even once we’re back at school,” Harry said. “If it helps a lot, I mean.”
“Yeah. It’d just make sense.” Before Harry even knew what was happening, Ron’s lips were pressed against his own.
“Oh.” Almost instantly, Harry could sense Ron tensing up at his reply, and so he pressed closer, kissing him in return. “And would doing this just make sense too?”
“If it helps, why not?”
“Maybe even if it doesn’t change whether or not we can sleep,” Harry suggested, running his fingers through Ron’s hair. “You’re the one who suggested we date.”
“Why would you want to date me?” Ron asked, words practically dripping with skepticism.
“You’re my best friend. Who could possibly be more worthy to date me than that?” he retorted, turning Ron’s earlier words around on him.
“You’re fucking with me.”
“I’m not. I promise.”
“Tell me again in the morning, and maybe I’ll believe you,” Ron said, breath warm against Harry’s skin.
Fair enough. Harry knew that all of this seemed a little sudden. Part of him had been aware of his feelings for Ron for awhile, but he hadn’t dared to even admit it to himself until tonight.
“Okay, I will.”
“You should try to get some sleep, Harry,”
“You should too instead of just worrying about me, you prat,” Harry mumbled fondly. Part of him felt like he was already asleep. How could something like this be anything other than a dream? “You’ll be all grumpy in the morning otherwise, and then Hermione will want to know why we were up so late.”
Ron grimaced at the thought of having to share what had happened, nodding.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” Harry echoed, one hand sliding up the back of Ron’s shirt to let his fingers splay against the warm expanse of his back.
The feeling of being cuddled up to him was the last thing Harry was aware of as he eventually drifted off to sleep.
fandom: harry potter
ship: draco malfoy/harry potter
word count: 3061
also on ao3 and ffn
All Draco wants is for all of it to go away: the Dark Mark, Azkaban, being trapped in the Manor with memories of the Dark Lord. Harry might just be his only solace.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Draco wasn’t sure of much these days, but he was sure of that. As a child, his father had regaled him with stories of how wonderful the Malfoy family was, how they were meant to be at the very top. Malfoys always picked the winning side. His father had promised, and Draco had believed him until it was too late to back out.
“Pommey is to be bringing Master Draco his tea now.”
Draco startled slightly, glancing over at the elderly house elf in the library doorway. She gave him a judgmental look over the tea tray she was carrying, heading over to set it on the coffee table.
“Right, thank you, Pommey,” he muttered, shaking his head and running a hand through his hair. How long had he been sitting in here anyway? It shouldn’t be time for tea yet.
“Master Draco should be taking his feet off the sofa instead of making more work for Pommey by getting it dirty,” Pommey added, fixing him a cup. Draco glared right back, lip curling. The house elves never would have dared to criticize him before. But, not wanting to stoop as low as arguing with her about it, he kicked off his shoes before putting his feet back up.
He obediently took his cup, sipping the tea. It was perfect, again. Pommey had learned his preferences well over the past month. She used to be assigned to cleaning, not cooking. Now, though, with all their other house elves killed or confiscated, Pommey was their only help. When Draco looked up from his tea, she was still standing there, waiting for something.
“Very good,” he said, forcing a smile. “Listen, Pommey...maybe you could work on the sunroom a bit this evening. I think it would make Mother happy to be able to enjoy it again.”
“Yes, Master Draco.” With a soft crack, the house elf disappeared, leaving Draco alone in the library again. Good, he thought. Maybe Harry would visit, now that he didn’t have to worry about being seen. Everything else around the Manor was such a bother...Draco couldn’t blame him for being a little reluctant. He wished he could get away from all of it too.
He continued sipping his tea, gazing out the smudged window. One of his father’s peacocks strutted past, clearly unaware of how good it had things. If it wanted to, it could probably find a gap in the fence surrounding the Manor and walk right out. Draco, on the other hand, was stuck inside, left wishing for as much freedom as a poncey, oversized bird.
Maybe if he wanted it badly enough, the upcoming trial would go away, and all the damage to his family’s home would disappear. He’d be able to make his mother smile again, and get rid of the tattoo on his arm. They could forget about all of this.
Draco curled up a bit more, lying on the couch. The warm, stale library air was starting to make him a bit sleepy. Maybe he should open a window, get some fresh air.
“Hey, Draco.” Harry emerged from one of the shadowed aisles, a soft, easy smile on his face. “Sorry, I know I’m a little late.”
Draco tried to hide his own smile, sitting up and nodding.
“I suppose I’ll let it slide this time, Potter. Don’t let it happen again.” He had to squint a little to see Harry, right in the sun’s path, but Draco couldn’t be bothered to get up and close the curtains.
Harry laughed, idly inspecting some of the titles on the nearest shelf. It was rather cute when he avoided eye contact, almost like he was shy, but Draco liked seeing that beautiful green color.
“Don’t worry, I’m never too busy for you,” he assured. “I’m right here whenever you need me.”
Draco frowned, fingertip tracing patterns in the dust on the coffee table. It was easier to look at that than at Harry.
“I don’t need you. Don’t be ridiculous. You’re just...a bit of entertainment. I get on fine on my own.”
“Okay,” Harry agreed with a shrug. Draco could just barely hear the sound of footsteps against carpet. Harry was closer now, but he didn’t dare look. Not when he was feeling so vulnerable. He hated Harry seeing him so weak.
“Besides, if you were really interested in helping me, you’d give me back my wand, or get me out of here. You promised you’d help me.” Draco bit his lip, glaring down at the table harder.
“I’m trying to figure out how to get the Mark off. I told you that.” Draco saw movement out of the corner of his eye, Harry pointing to another table, with a small stack of books on it. “I’ve been researching, I just haven’t found anything yet.”
“I looked through those books, not you,” Draco argued. “If you’re going to lie, at least make it convincing.”
Harry scowled, and the expression was all kinds of wrong on his face, when Draco finally looked. His Harry wasn’t supposed to be mad at him. Not anymore.
“I’m doing my best, Malfoy,” he growled. “I got you through the war, didn’t I? Why can’t you just be grateful for once?”
“I’m stuck in here, where He lived for months. I don’t have my wand. The Ministry’s already taken most of our house elves, and they’ll be coming for our money next. My father’s already in Azkaban, and Mother and I will probably be joining him, when they finally get around to holding our trials. What exactly should I be grateful for?”
“I kept you alive!” Harry turned away, and Draco started to reach out for him, then stopped himself.
“You didn’t take me with you!” Draco had never dared to voice that before, but it slipped out before he’d stopped himself. Despite coming just for him so many times, before and after, Harry didn’t let Draco escape with them over Easter. He’d left him here with Voldemort, to deal with the force of his rage.
“Why would I? You’re worthless.” Draco started to reach for his wand, and in the time it took for him to remember he didn’t have it, Harry vanished. Draco never had figured out how he did that with the anti-Apparition wards.
Harry left no sign that he’d ever been there in the first place. He never did.
“You’re right,” Draco said to the empty room. “You’re right, okay? I’m worthless and I deserve everything I’m getting. But I can’t take this..being trapped here...please, just...make the trial and Azkaban and everything go away. I need you.”
When no answer came, he turned and left the library, going to his bedroom. He was too tired to research more about the Mark today.
xxxxx
"Pommey will be leading Mr. Potter to Master Draco's room," the elderly house elf announced, beckoning for Harry to follow.
He could hardly believe he was actually doing this; setting foot in Malfoy Manor again after what had happened just a few short months ago. It felt like he didn't have a choice, though. Not when everyone was claiming that Draco had completely gone off the deep end. Not to mention, Harry didn't hate him. In fact, he almost wanted to get to know him a bit more, after everything that had happened. At the very least, he didn't think Draco deserved to rot in Azkaban with his father.
“You came back!” Draco leapt up from where he was sitting on his bed, face lighting up. That hadn't been what he was expecting at all. Harry froze just inside the doorway, wondering if perhaps this was some sort of Polyjuiced intruder.
Harry’s brow furrowed, and he ran a hand through his hair, staring at Draco intently.
“Um...yes? I’m not quite sure what you mean by that, but I thought I should come see you. To help. I’ve, ah, heard you’re not doing so well?” Harry worded everything like a question, hoping to elicit some sort of response that made sense. Maybe the gossip wasn't too far off after all.
Draco sat back down, face pink. He looked rather cute like that, all rumpled, with hair falling in front of his eyes. Harry had only seen it un-styled a handful of times before.
“What do you mean, you’ve heard I’m not doing so well? Who have you been talking to about me? And you’ve been seeing me often enough yourself that you should know how I’m doing.”
“Malfoy, what are you talking about? We haven’t seen each other since the battle.” Harry didn't bother to answer his other questions, choosing to focus on the more important bit. He needed to get Draco to talk so he could figure out what was going on.
“You were just here two days ago.” Draco was getting visibly frustrated now, scowling at him. What on Earth was he talking about? All Harry had seen of him in the past month or so was photos in newspaper articles.
“No, I wasn’t.” Slowly, Harry sat down on the bed beside him, not sure if it was really appropriate to do. Draco didn't hit him or curse at him though, so it seemed to be alright.
“Stop looking at me like I’m insane,” Draco said. “If you’re still angry with me, just say so.”
“I’m not angry with you...” Harry paused just a moment longer before adding, “Draco.” Yes, that seemed to help. Draco relaxed minutely, edging closer to him. They’d never really been this close to each other before, except when fighting. “How often have we been seeing each other?”
“More over time, I suppose. Almost every day now. Started a few months ago, maybe around Christmas? Why are you asking?” Draco frowned, fussing with the edge of his sleeve to avoid meeting Harry’s eyes.
“Draco...I haven’t been coming here,” Harry said, trying to make his voice as gentle as possible. “I was here over Easter, that day the snatchers got us, and then we saw each other again at the battle, but that’s been all this year. Do you think…maybe you imagined some things, being trapped here for so long? It's normal to want comfort when you're under that kind of stress.”
“No...no, you’ve been visiting me. We’ve talked.”
“I promise you I haven’t.” Harry had been about to say more, but he leaned back a bit, hand landing on something hard underneath the covers. Making a face, he pulled them back to investigate before Draco could stop him. “...What’s a knife doing in your bed?” He held it up by the handle, looking at Draco disapprovingly.
“It’s a ritual knife, Potter, I thought even you would know that. And obviously it’s not supposed to be in my bed, but I had no time to put it away, since you decided to tromp in unannounced.”
“Okay, and what are you planning on doing with a ritual knife?”
Draco pursed his lips, looking away. Harry just looked at him pointedly, waiting for an answer. If he was planning on harming himself, this was even more serious than he thought.
“Trying to remove the Mark,” he said simply.
“Trying to...You can’t just carve up your arm! All you’d be doing is hurting yourself.” Sighing, Harry turned to set the knife aside on the bedside table. “You can’t do that,” he said again firmly. “Just...what can I do to help you?”
Had Draco really imagined all sorts of visits and conversations with him? Did that sort of thing really happen? Dreaming up people who weren’t there, over and over again, without even realizing it?
“I just want it all to go away,” Draco said softly, wincing when his voice cracked. “I want to start over, without the Mark or the punishments or the waiting for a trial. And I want things to be easier on my mother. She doesn’t deserve this. She never did anything but protect me. Deep down she’s a good person. Deep down I’m not. I wanted this, once,” he said, gesturing to his arm. “Before I really understood what it entailed. So if you don’t want to help me, help her.” Draco bit his lip hard, and Harry tried to discreetly look around for tissues, worried that he might start crying. He was sure that Draco wouldn't speak to him so openly if he didn't really think they were much closer than they actually were. That settled it. He needed to do anything and everything to help him, since clearly nobody else would.
“I do want to help you,” Harry assured. “And I’ll help your mother too. It’s the least I can do, after she saved my life.”
Draco nodded slowly, looking like he was waiting for Harry to elaborate.
“I don’t know how to remove the Mark, if it’s even possible. But I’m planning on testifying at both your trials, and I’ve gotten the Ministry to agree to give your mother a bit more freedom in the meantime. You, they were more reluctant about, but...they trust me to supervise you.” His nose scrunched up a little at that, half expecting Draco to protest. “So you don’t have to be stuck in here, as long as you’re with me. It’s up to you, but you can stay with me for awhile if you’d like. I think it would help you to be somewhere without so many bad memories.”
“I suppose I can do you the favor of giving you company,” Draco replied, sneering at him. There was no venom in it, unlike when they were in school. It looked almost fond, and it was more obvious than ever how exhausted Draco was, like he'd do anything to just curl up in Harry's arms.
Harry didn’t point out how obvious it was that he was faking his aloofness. Better to let him keep as much dignity as he could.
“Great,” he said brightly, grinning and meaning it. Grimmauld Place was lonely by himself anyway. A roommate would liven things up, and Draco was far more agreeable than he used to be, even if the changes were rather unsettling.
“How much do you really think you’ll be able to do for me?” It made sense for him to be doubtful. Draco was a Death Eater. He’d committed plenty of undeniable crimes. There were limits even to Harry's influence, though he sincerely hoped he'd have enough for this.
“I’m not sure,” Harry admitted. “But I’ve been talking with Hermione, and we think we can keep you out of Azkaban. Maybe community service, probation...therapy.”
Wizards didn't bother with therapy, or any other treatment of mental illness, and Draco's confused look was proof enough of that. Harry would have fun introducing him to other, more mundane Muggle things, like television and shopping malls. Therapy could be explained another time. Ideally by Hermione. She was far better at that sort of thing than he was.
“No Azkaban?”
“No Azkaban," Harry confirmed, nodding.
“Why did you even come here?” Draco asked.
“Well, like I said, I’d heard the rumors. But on top of that, I guess I just felt like I needed to. Intuition or something.”
Draco's lips tugged into an uncharacteristically genuine smile. All of a sudden, the final pieces clicked into place. Draco didn't just trust him to help. He'd actually fallen for the version of him that he'd made up. Harry didn't object to Draco fancying him, really. He even thought he might return some of those feelings. They'd have to talk about it at some point, and get to know each other properly before jumping into anything serious, but right now, Harry didn't have the heart to do anything that might be seen as rejection.
“Maybe you felt me wishing for you to get rid of everything for me.”
“Maybe,” Harry agreed, hand brushing against Draco’s tentatively. If he took it, that would prove his theory right. “I guess wishes really do come true.” Did they? He'd felt a strange connection, almost as if some external force was pulling him to visit Malfoy Manor that day. Had Draco's wishes to escape captivity been so strong that he actually felt them? No, Harry thought, shaking his head slightly. It had to be a coincidence, right?
Resolutely looking away, Draco grasped Harry’s hand, squeezing tight. Harry squeezed back. Draco's hand was soft, and fit perfectly in his own.
“I’m not going to Azkaban?”
“You’re not going to Azkaban.”
Draco nodded slowly, staring down at their joined hands. He was still acting a bit lethargic, like interacting with a real person was tiring, not to mention the shock of finding out that the Harry he thought he knew hadn't been real at all.
“And you’re really here?” he asked, gray eyes shining with uncertainty.
“I’m really here.”
“You’d better not be planning on telling your idiotic friends about all of this, Potter. I’m not crazy.”
“I know you’re not,” Harry said. “They’ll know that you’re living with me for awhile, and that I’m helping you with getting things sorted out, but not the rest.” He might have to tell Hermione, since he wasn't sure he could handle this on his own, but for now, he'd keep Draco's secret from getting around any more than it already had.
“I shouldn’t trust you so much,” Draco whispered. “It seems too good to be true.” The raw hope and fear in his voice made Harry's heart ache. He had to do something more to make him happy, and prove that he was serious about helping.
“I’ve been thinking about things, and, well, we’ll work on it, okay?” Harry said with a smile. “And, uh, I’m not supposed to give you this, but...” Without a word, he slipped Draco’s wand into his hand.
Draco just stared at it for a moment, lips parted in shock, and then leaned in, connecting their lips in a grateful kiss. Harry blinked, surprised, but returned it, surprised by how natural it felt. Draco tasted like tea and mint, and Harry felt like he could definitely get used to that.
“Thank you, Harry.”
"Of course." Maybe this was an opportunity for them both to change. Second chances like this didn't come along every day.
I WANNA REQUEST A YOHARIKO FIC BUT IM UNCREATIVE AND HAVE NO PROMPTS IN MIND
uh, better late than never?
fandom: love liveship: riko sakurauchi/yoshiko tsushimaword count: 643also on ao3 and ffn
Riko is a Tokyo delinquent whose reputation precedes her. Yoshiko is, well, Yoshiko. Suddenly, being misunderstood by everyone else doesn’t seem so bad.
She was pretty. That was the first thing Riko noticed, shallow as it might have sounded. Numazu was a bore so far, compared to Tokyo, and a pretty girl might be just what she needed to liven things up. A partner in crime in her new city.
“Hey.”
The girl whirled around, looking almost as if her simple greeting had startled her. Not many friends, maybe, Riko mused. Quickly, though, the girl straightened up, a slow, practiced smile spreading across her face.
“Hello, little demon. Have you come to give yourself over to Yohane?”
Okay, more than a little edgy, Riko thought. But she could work with it. Better that than someone who would freak out at the slightest bit of rule-breaking.
“Sakurauchi Riko. I’m a new transfer student,” she explained brusquely, allowing the slightest smile of her own to appear. “Pleased to meet you.”
Yohane’s eyes widened, and she grabbed Riko’s hand, grinning.
“You’re the girl from Tokyo! The one that got kicked out of her old school! Ruby told me all about you, after Dia told her…Dia-san is the student council president; she’s Ruby’s sister.” Then, after a moment, she added, “Ruby is one of my little demons. Er, I mean, she’s in my class. Anyway, she said you’re dangerous and I should stay away from you, so I’ve been trying to find you for days.”
Riko frowned, taking a moment to process all of that. The soft, warm hand still clutching her own really was a bit distracting.
“Your friend warned you that I’m some kind of threat, and that…made you want to meet me?” she asked, brow furrowing in confusion.
“Well, it sounds stupid when you put it that way,” Yohane complained, frowning. “I just thought…” She leaned a little closer, voice taking on a conspiratorial air. “Perhaps you’re a fallen angel too. We need to stick together.”
“Yes, we do,” Riko murmured warmly, deciding she might like to have a friend for once, even one seemingly wrapped up in chuunibyou fantasy.
xxx
“Skipping class just to sit around? Wow, I thought a delinquent like you would be doing something more exciting.” Yohane laughed, dropping down next to Riko in the sand and nudging her gently to punctuate her point.
“I like the sound of the ocean,” Riko replied, shrugging. The sea breeze felt perfect, sending loose strands of hair fluttering around her face.
“Is that all?”
“Better than being in there, with people who only ever judge me.” In the weeks since she’d moved to Numazu, few people other than Yohane had approached her, and most of them were just curious about her reputation, not actually interested in getting to know her.
“To some people, I’ll always be a failure,” Riko continued, staring out at the water instead of looking over at Yohane. Freezing up on stage, watching as her grades got lower, sneaking out at night with cans of spray paint. “Because I’m not living up to the plan my parents had for me. I just want to get away from all of that.”
Riko caught sight of Yohane’s smile out of the corner of her eye, and couldn’t help returning it.
“Me too,” the younger girl admitted, inching closer. “We’re both misunderstood.” It hurt, hearing the hint of sadness in her voice. Riko frowned, wanting to cheer her up.
“Well, that’s why fallen angels like us need to stick together, right, Yocchan?” she murmured, resting a hand on Yohane’s knee.
Yohane blushed, smile returning.
“Yeah, of course. I…don’t really mind being misunderstood as long as I’m with you, Riri.”
“Me neither.” Her reply barely louder than a whisper, Riko leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Yohane’s lips. “So let’s just enjoy the afternoon. School will still be there to worry about tomorrow.”
fandom: harry potter
ship: n/a
word count: 1137
also on ao3 and ffn
In which Pansy sees a friend, discovers a newfound fondness for Knockturn Alley, and changes her life.
“Ugh, I hate the thought of going back out in that,” Pansy muttered, glancing out the door of the Leaky Cauldron.
“I know,” Daphne murmured, a look of equal distaste on her face. “At least you got the chance to meet me here though. It was nice to see you.” Daphne was just Flooing home, the lucky bitch. She didn’t have to take a step outside, nor did she know what the rest of Pansy’s day had in store. Pansy was dreading it.
“Yeah, I’ll owl you,” Pansy promised, lips twitching up in a brief smile. “Bye, Daphne.”
The chilly, drizzling rain might have added ambiance, but it certainly didn’t make the afternoon’s task any more pleasant. Pansy wrinkled her nose, casting an Impervius charm on her cloak.
Now protected from the rain at least, she found herself transfixed, staring down the dark, winding alleyway leading to her destination. She could stay right here in Diagon, of course, and make up excuses for her mother later. Her gaze flicked only briefly to the shops behind her, considering it, but then she steeled herself, pulling up her hood to hide her face. No use in trying to avoid it.
God, Pansy, what kind of Slytherin are you? Nervous about buying a little poison? The voice in her head sounded a little like Draco, and she knew it was right. It would feel so good once this was over.
Straightening her posture, Pansy strode into the alley, sneer pasted on her face. She’d never been before, unlike some of her friends. Her mother had maintained that it wasn’t ladylike to be loitering around Knockturn Alley, and that she shouldn’t get herself mixed up in that sort of thing. Pansy hadn’t been interested enough to ignore the request, and so until now, she’d stayed out.
“Pure Amortentia, only two Galleons for a pretty witch like you,” an old wizard crooned from his street stall. He reached out to touch her arm, and Pansy batted his hand away, walking a little faster.
Shyverwretch’s Venoms and Poisons. There it was, now in sight, just along the alley. She exhaled softly in relief, continuing down the street.
The door creaked in protest as she pushed it open, and the floorboards weren’t much better. There was a thin layer of dust over coating almost all the counters. Definitely not the kind of place Pansy would normally choose to visit.
She glanced around, strolling through the aisles in an attempt to look like someone browsing casually. Poisons to exterminate pests seemed to be a main product, displayed prominently towards the entrance. They were probably some of the only legal items in the shop.
“Pest control?” asked the woman behind the counter.
“Of a sort,” Pansy replied with a wry smile. “A rather large pest.”
She continued winding her way through the store, going deeper into the less-traveled aisles, where the better stock was hidden discretely out of the way. The back of her neck felt tingly, like the witch behind the counter was still watching her. Probably was, Pansy figured. Wouldn’t want anyone to steal an expensive potion or poison.
“You’ve heard the rumors about the Malfoys lately,” her mother whispered, breath warm against her ear, grip tight on her wrist. Pansy felt the edge of the china cabinet digging into her hip, but she didn’t complain. This was more important than a few minutes of discomfort.
“We are not going to end up like them, at the Dark Lord’s beck and call. I will not allow you to be put in that kind of danger. It was bad enough the first time, but now...” Her mother stopped, dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. She let go of her wrist, but Pansy didn’t move, still pressed up against the cabinet.
“Your father will drag all of us into that, no regard for anyone but himself.”
“I know,” Pansy agreed, unable to say anything else. Subconsciously, she gripped at her forearm, pale and blank while Draco’s would soon be Marked. The Parkinson family had always managed to stay ambiguous about their loyalties, saying and doing just the right things to make everyone happy. Her father had never been happy with that, though. He was a low-ranking supporter of Voldemort, unworthy of the Dark Mark, and he wanted to change that.
“I don’t think I can reason with him this time.”
“You’re right. He seems set on taking an active role in this war.”
Her mother nodded, still teary-eyed, and Pansy wished she could do something to comfort her. She wasn’t sure if she wanted Voldemort to be defeated, or Potter, but she thought one of them really ought to get on with it, so that everyone else could go back to their lives.
“I’m not planning on following in his footsteps, Mum,” she murmured, hoping that would ease her worry. “Alright? I don’t want the damn Mark. It’s horribly ugly anyway.”
“He’s putting you in danger, Pansy,” she repeated, and all at once, Pansy realized where this conversation was going.
She heard the clunk-clunk of boots in the hallway, just outside where they were huddled in the dining room. Her stomach turned.
“Iris, what are you doing?” her father called from the hallway. “I told you to leave the cleaning to the damn elves.”
Her mother sighed, gaze flicking to the door, as though estimating how long they had until he’d decide to come in.
She pressed a slip of parchment into Pansy’s hand, kissing her forehead.
“Maybe you can meet Blaise or Daphne in London soon, hm? It’d be nice to see one of your friends.”
With that, she hurried out to appease her husband, leaving Pansy standing there alone, fingers clenched around the parchment.
She shook her head, taking a deep breath. How long had she been standing here, staring at the shelves? Too long. That was unacceptable.
Pansy fished the bit of parchment out of her robe pocket, comparing the names written down to the bottles lining the shelves. It didn’t take long to find one that would work, and she grinned, picking up the bottle and heading back to the front. It was a little pricey, but worth every Knut.
“This all, dear?”
“Yes,” Pansy said, giving a slight nod as she paid. She was careful to be polite, not a hint of her usual attitude. Pissing off someone in Knockturn Alley was the last thing she needed.
The other witch smiled, tucking the poison into a small velvet bag for her.
“Husband?”
Pansy made a face, shaking her head. She brushed a few strands of dark hair out of her face, putting the bag in a hidden pocket of her robes.
“Father.”
“Well, good luck.”
Pansy had already started to turn away, but she nodded, smiling at her.
‘I have spied for you, and lied for you, put myself in mortal danger for you. Everything was supposed to keep Lily Potter’s son safe. Now you tell me you have been raising him like a pig for slaughter-’
fandom: harry potter
ship: cho chang/luna lovegood/ginny weasley
word count: 594
also on ao3 and ffn
Pretty girls are even more beautiful than the stars: a sentiment nobody can disagree with.
Ginny’s heart was pounding as she crept through the halls, hoping to avoid being caught by Filch. It wouldn’t do to ruin one of her first dates by being unable to show up. She wished, not for the first time, that she could have gotten Harry to lend her his invisibility cloak, but he was so completely focused on Malfoy these days that trying to talk to him about anything felt like more trouble than it was worth.
Gryffindor courage would get her through, though. It wasn’t sneaking around after curfew that had her feeling nervous so much as where she was headed.
“Oh, hello, Ginny,” a voice murmured when she finally approached the entrance to Ravenclaw tower. “I’m glad you’re here; I was getting worried that the wrackspurts might have distracted you.”
Ginny smiled, stepping a little closer.
“Hello, Luna,” she replied, feeling as though her heart was doing backflips in her chest. “Wouldn’t miss this for the world.” Stargazing was one of the most stereotypically romantic dates Ginny could think of, and yet, when Luna suggested it...how could she be anything but excited?
Luna took her hand, squeezing it gently.
“We shouldn’t keep Cho waiting,” she said. “I don’t want her to worry too.”
Ginny wasn’t much help solving the riddle to get back into the tower, but it gave her plenty of time to admire Luna in the flickering torchlight. She looked ethereal, and Ginny couldn’t help herself as she leaned in to press a kiss to her cheek.
They made their way through the Ravenclaw common room quickly, a few students looking away from their books in order to gawk at them. She supposed a Gryffindor there wasn’t a very common sight.
Luna led her straight to the seventh year girls’ dorm. They’d be far less likely to be bothered in Cho’s room than in Luna’s, not to mention the small balcony attached to the seventh year dorms, all the better to stargaze from.
“You made it,” Cho murmured, smiling softly at them. “My roommates won’t be back for awhile, they’re all at the library studying. So we should have the place to ourselves.” She looked incredibly cute in an oversized sweater, and once again, Ginny felt her heart leap. It had been Luna who she developed feelings for first, but once the idea had been introduced, she’d fallen hard and fast for Cho as well.
Cho got up, and all three of them went out onto the balcony. They settled down on the floor, some conjured pillows and blankets making it far more comfortable, and cuddled close, gazing up at the sky.
“The stars are so pretty,” Luna murmured, glancing from the sky to her girlfriends. “You know what else is pretty?”
“You?” Cho replied teasingly, getting a soft laugh out of Ginny.
“Well, I suppose so, but I was talking about the two of you,” Luna replied placidly.
“You definitely know the key to a girl’s heart,” Ginny joked, leaning a little closer to the two
Ravenclaws. As the boldest of the three, she supposed it fell to her to make the next move. They hadn’t quite gotten to the point of kissing yet, but she desperately wanted to.
Leaning in, she pressed her lips to Luna’s gently, melting into it even more as she felt her girlfriend’s arms wrap around her. After a few moments, Ginny pulled away, kissing Cho next.
“Now it’s a perfect date,” she murmured, smiling to herself as she watched Cho and Luna kiss. Hopefully there would be many more to come.
fandom: harry potter
ship: harry potter/severus snape
word count: 1490
also on ao3 and ffn
Having someone to trust is surprisingly freeing, even if that someone thoroughly embarrasses you at work with chocolate and sparkly stickers.
“What makes you so sure it was me?”
Harry looked near-comically indignant, and Severus looked away momentarily to hide his smile. It was a miracle he was still alive, if he truly was that oblivious to his utter lack of subtlety.
“You’ve been sending me all sorts of ridiculous gifts and tokens of affection for a full year now. I would have to be brain-dead, or close to it, not to figure it out immediately,” Severus said dryly, taking a seat. It seemed this conversation might take awhile.
Harry just looked at him, starting to open his mouth, and then immediately closing it again. This process repeated itself a few times, and this time, Severus couldn’t completely bite back a snicker.
Face reddening, Harry sat down across from him.
“Look, Severus...For what it’s worth, I didn’t think you’d open it in public like that, and I certainly didn’t think...” He winced, probably out of secondhand embarrassment. Severus couldn’t blame him, though it made him feel even worse. “Kids are mean, okay? Well, I mean, you know that, I suppose, considering you complain every damn day about how awful they are, but...I wouldn’t think you’d be that upset over a couple of twelve year olds laughing at you.”
“I’m not upset that children laughed at me,” Severus said crisply, occupying himself by Summoning a pot of tea from the kitchenette. He turned his head slightly, all the better to hide behind his hair.
“Alright, then what’s the problem?” Harry leaned forward in his seat a little, as though practically crawling into Severus’ lap would get him a more satisfying answer. “Are you upset that I sent it at all?”
“Potter,” Severus muttered with a sigh, pouring them both some tea. Naturally, Harry interrupted before he could say anything more.
“Harry,” he insisted, giving him a sharp look. “You agreed that you would call me Harry.”
Severus briefly considered kicking the insolent brat out of his sitting room altogether, but resisted the fleeting urge, handing him his cup of tea instead. He could remember the days when he never would have let Harry Potter into his sitting room to begin with.
“Right. Harry. As I was saying, you sent me chocolates and a note.” He took a bracing sip of tea, barely able to maintain his composure as he recalled the worst of it. “There were heart stickers on the note. I...It looked like a gift from a giggling third year. The problem is that students are now discussing my love life, all thanks to a man who seemed quite passionate about the idea of me deserving my privacy after all I did in the war.”
Harry shrugged, inching a little closer to the edge of his chair again, and ran a hand through his absurdly messy hair. Severus clenched his free hand into a fist to keep himself from reaching out and trying to fix it.
“I thought it would be funny,” he offered weakly. “Or cute, or something. It was a joke. The stickers, I mean, not the...overall sentiment.”
“What the fuck?” Severus breathed, unable to say anything else.
“Sorry,” Harry muttered sheepishly. “It was stupid, I know, I’m sorry.”
“No, really,” Severus murmured, taking a certain sort of satisfaction in how embarrassed Harry seemed to be now. “What the fuck? You presumably went out, bought a variety of stationery, heart-shaped stickers, and chocolate, then took your time writing the note, arranging the stickers just so...” He couldn’t help it. Picturing Harry doing that, and for him, no less, was just too much. Severus started laughing.
For a split second, Harry actually looked scared, green eyes going wide, but then he started laughing too.
“Yeah...yeah, I guess it is a little ridiculous, isn’t it?” he asked between giggles.
“Not to mention the fact that you came all the way to Hogwarts after sending it, to...what? See how I liked it?”
Harry nearly snorted as he set his teacup down on the coffee table, and that only set off Severus’ laughter once again. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d laughed with someone like this.
“Yeah,” he admitted, shrugging. “I didn’t have anything better to do.”
“You need a job,” Severus teased, feeling far lighter and more carefree than he had in awhile. “It’s been, what, over a year since you graduated?”
“I told you, I’m taking some time off to figure things out. Maybe you could learn something from me for once. A break would probably do you some good as well.”
“Yes, well, not all of us are blessed with heaps of gold waiting at Gringotts. I need to work.”
Harry’s lips twitched ever so slightly, and Severus knew exactly what he was about to say.
“Don’t even think about it,” he ordered, glaring at the younger man for good measure. “I won’t accept your money, Harry. I’m not a charity case.”
“Well, anyway,” Harry said cheerfully, returning his attention to his tea. It was a painfully transparent attempt at turning their conversation away from the subject of finances. “I’ve trusted you with something, what with letting you laugh at my amazing, heartfelt gesture. Your turn.”
“It’s childish, trying to force me to open up to you like this.”
“But it’s been working, hasn’t it? You’re starting to trust me more.”
Severus frowned, finishing his tea. He couldn’t argue with that. He was, slowly, even if it didn’t seem like much in comparison to the way Harry opened up to him so readily, treated him as though he was someone worth pursuing. He got up, walking to his bedroom. He knew what he would share with Harry today.
It took some digging to find it, but eventually, Severus retrieved the old, expensive chess set from his closet, where it had been hiding underneath a steel grey sweater he’d never actually worn. A brief, sad smile flickering across his features, he carried the box back out to the sitting room, setting it on the table in front of Harry.
“Lily gave me this for my fourteenth birthday,” he said. That sentence was hard to get out all on its own, but he found that he trusted Harry not to push for more.
Few words passed between them as they unboxed the chess set and set it up, occasionally making eye contact.
“I’m rubbish at chess,” Harry admitted with a soft laugh, thumb running over the smooth alabaster of a rook.
“So was Lily,” Severus replied, barely louder than a whisper. Was this how it felt to bare his heart to someone, or at least pieces of it?
“So we already know you’d utterly destroy me if we played,” Harry said, giving him a playful smirk.
“Maybe you’d learn something from me for once,” Severus replied easily, turning his earlier words back on him.
“Maybe,” Harry agreed, getting up. At first, Severus was worried that he might be preparing to leave, but instead, Harry just sprawled out on the sofa with him, head in Severus’ lap.
“Thank you for telling me,” he said softly. “I like it when you talk about her.”
“It’s getting easier, with you,” Severus confessed, another thing he wouldn’t have dared to say not long ago, and still wouldn’t to anyone else.
“Good,” Harry said, closing his eyes and yawning. “You can talk to me about anything, you know.”
Anything. The dizzying freedom of so many possibilities was one of the reasons, Severus had tried to hold back. He feared that once he started confiding in Harry, he wouldn’t be able to stop.
“Are you planning on taking a nap here?” he asked dryly.
“Mm, might do,” Harry murmured, shrugging. “I’m pretty comfy.”
Severus rolled his eyes, running his fingers through Harry’s dark, tangled hair.
“Most people would still be afraid I’d do any number of horrible things to them if they fell asleep anywhere near me,” he commented, still playing with his hair.
“I’m not most people,” Harry said. “I trust you. Completely. I find it’s quite freeing, actually, and I’m happy to nap with you as often as you’ll let me.”
He was serious about that, apparently, since Harry really did fall asleep not long after, looking completely open and vulnerable, just like he’d claimed. Sighing, Severus continued playing with the other’s hair, glancing at the clock. He had another hour before he had a class to teach.
He read articles in the latest Potions journal as Harry slept, still mulling over his fixation on trust.
“You...mean a great deal to me,” Severus forced out as soon as he caught a glimpse of vivid green, Harry blinking up at him sleepily. “I’ve grown to cherish your presence in my life, and I...even thought your gift yesterday was quite endearing, heart stickers and all.”
Harry was right. Trusting someone with his feelings, and having them accepted, felt more like freedom than anything else he could think of.
fandom: harry potter
ship: hermione granger/ron weasley, luna lovegood/ginny weasley
word count: 1381
also on ao3 and ffn
In which Ron and Ginny have to do a project without their girlfriends, and nearly fail spectacularly.
“What are you talking about? This has to be a mistake. I’ll just...go see Flitwick and fix it.” Ron was already half out of bed by the time he finished speaking, and only a quelling glare from Madame Pomfrey got him to settle down again, glaring at his injured leg.
“Honestly, Ron, it’s not that bad. You’re acting like working with Ginny on a project is a fate worse than death. She’s a perfectly capable student, and if you were that worried about who you’d be paired up with, maybe you should have gone to class.”
“I know, I know,” he said with a sigh. “I shouldn’t have skipped class to go flying, but I think crashing into some Slytherin git and breaking my leg was punishment enough, Hermione.”
Hermione gave him a rather unimpressed look, perching on the edge of the bed and fiddling with the notes she’d brought for him. From the odd little frown on her face, it was clear that she was torn between the desires to scold him for being irresponsible and comfort him after his rather upsetting morning. Ultimately, she must have come to the conclusion that since he’d be just fine in an hour or so, going with scolding was acceptable.
“You’re just disappointed because you wanted to partner with me and get out of actually doing any work.”
“Well, a bit, but...because you’re so brilliant, of course,” Ron offered hopefully. “And you like that sort of thing. Ginny doesn’t want to do schoolwork any more than I do.”
“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” his girlfriend replied with a shrug, and absolutely no sympathy in her voice. “Anyway, I’ve brought you the Charms notes you missed. You might want to look them over while you’re stuck here. I’ll see you at lunch.”
With that, Hermione gave him a quick kiss and headed out, leaving Ron to contemplate his fate. Sometimes he wondered why he’d bothered to come back to finish his education at all.
xxx
By the time he approached his sister in the common room that night, Ron had more or less accepted that he wouldn’t be getting out of the arrangement, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still wondering why it had happened in the first place.
“Why didn’t you just pick someone else?” he asked, dropping down into his favorite armchair.
“I wasn’t exactly in class today either,” Ginny replied, avoiding eye contact. “So we were the last two left.” Something seemed suspicious about that, he mused.
“Well, why not?” Ron asked after a few moments. “What were you doing?”
“I was with Luna.” Ginny’s fingers were ghosting over her wand now, as though she expected she might have to hex him.
“Alright, then, why didn’t you just say that to begin with?” He shifted slightly in his seat, running a hand through his hair.
“I was with Luna,” she repeated, this time giving him a pointed look that was apparently supposed to explain everything.
For a few seconds, they were both silent — Ginny frustrated, and Ron perplexed. So what if she was hanging out with Luna? Everyone knew they were close friends, and it was hardly a crime in his mind to skip class, since he’d been doing the same thing.
Before long, Ginny cracked.
“We were snogging, Ron,” she said with a huff, rolling her eyes.
“Oh. Right. Well, great,” he replied, resisting the urge to comment on how he didn’t particularly want to think about his little sister kissing anyone. It had been bad enough when she was dating Harry.
“That’s it?” Ginny raised an eyebrow, just looking at him for a few more seconds. “I’m impressed. You didn’t take the news about anyone else I’ve dated nearly as well.”
Ron shrugged, not sure what to say to that. It was still awkward, certainly, and he had no desire to discuss Ginny’s love life at length, but he wasn’t angry about it.
“Luna’s alright. I know she won’t hurt you.”
“I’m quite capable of looking after myself, you know. I wouldn’t need you defending my honor anyway.”
“Well, you’re still my little sister, so...”
“Yeah, okay.”
“Okay.”
After a few moments of just sitting there, both of them hoping to put the awkward conversation out of their minds, Ginny spoke up again.
“We can get started on the project tomorrow, unless you’re eager to work on it tonight,” she said, smirking. “Make Hermione proud or something.”
“Uh, no, tomorrow’s fine with me,” Ron confirmed, shooting a longing look at Dean and Seamus, who were looking at a Quidditch magazine across the room.
With a brisk nod, Ginny got up and headed out of the common room. It seemed he was free for another night.
xxx
The next day, they managed to make it to the library. They gathered up a few books to start their research, Hermione’s watchful gaze urging them on from across the room. Before they could actually do anything with them, though, Ron’s stomach growled. He took one look at the clock and left to go to dinner.
The day after that, Ginny had Quidditch practice. Ron could have worked on the project alone, of course, since eighth year students hadn’t been permitted to join Quidditch teams, but playing chess with Harry seemed far more appealing.
And so it went, day after day. In a cooperative effort in procrastination, Ron and Ginny spent a week and a half doing absolutely nothing. They almost managed to forget they had a project to do at all.
xxx
“We’re doing this,” Ginny announced eventually, dragging Ron bodily into the library. “The project is due in less than 24 hours, and I don’t want to deal with Mum sending us both Howlers because we’ve failed it.”
Ron nodded reluctantly, finding that he couldn’t argue with that logic.
“Right, okay. I’ll get the books while you start making an outline.” Outlines seemed like a gigantic waste of time, mostly, but Hermione always used them, and they needed all the help they could get.
“I expect you back here in five minutes,” Ginny said, glaring at him as she took a seat.
“Five minutes, got it.”
The fact that they’d gotten as far as locating the books they needed the previous week made it easy to fetch them again, at least. Levitating the rather intimidating stack onto the table, Ron sat down next to Ginny, peering at what she had written down so far.
“Is that all? I mean, it doesn’t look like it’ll be very long.”
“Well, I took another look at the assignment, and it’s not actually as complicated as I thought. It should only take an hour or two.” Ginny forced a smile, like even she couldn’t believe it would be quite that easy, but even ‘less complicated’ sounded good right now.
“I suppose we should have started it earlier though, like Hermione said.”
This sentiment was echoed quite a few times by both of them as the hours dragged on. Ginny’s estimate of ‘just an hour or two’ proved to be a little too optimistic, mostly thanks to how long it took just to sift through the books to find the information they needed. It was the only time in eight years that Ron found himself in the library until curfew, actually studying.
“I’ve forgotten what it’s like to feel young,” he groaned, leaning his head on the table. “We might as well have been in here for a century.”
“Stop complaining,” Ginny grumbled, looking close to giving in to the desire to lay her own head on the table as well. “We’re almost done. Just write the last few paragraphs.” She shoved the parchment and quill over at him, flicking her wand to return the books to their shelves.
“Done,” he announced a few moments later, ignoring the pointed looks Madam Pince was giving them. They really should have been back in the common room half an hour ago.
Ginny squinted over at the parchment, frowning.
“I can barely even read what you wrote here,” she said, pointing to the section she meant. Ron frowned too, realizing that it really was nearly illegible, and likely not very coherent either.
“Good enough,” they said simultaneously.
Getting an Acceptable had never brought so much relief.
fandom: harry potter
ship: severus snape/harry potter
word count: 1904
also on ao3 and ffn
A determined Harry Potter is capable of almost anything, including finally making Severus happy. Christmas Snarry for the soul.
He’d always hated winter. Not that the other seasons were much better, really, since Severus tended to be miserable all year long, but winter was a unique form of torture. He could never get warm; the chill seemed to go right to his bones, no matter what. The sensation had only become more unpleasant since the end of the war, the lingering effects of Nagini’s venom making every ache worse. Aside from the weather, there were the holidays. Christmas, in particular, never failed to put him in a dismal mood. Cheerful gift giving and spending time with people who cared were things he’d never gotten to be a part of.
Most years, Christmas found Severus holed up alone, getting spectacularly drunk. The alcohol could muffle his less pleasant feelings for a while, and really, he couldn’t hope for much more than that. It was fine, until one year it wasn’t.
xxx
“I’m not letting you spend another Christmas alone,” Harry said, scowling in a way that Severus assumed was meant to be stern, but only served to make him look horribly, maddeningly endearing. How was it that even as a grown man, the one who’d killed the Dark Lord, he still seemed to have retained some sort of innocence?
“And why is that?” Severus asked, raising an eyebrow. “Haven’t you made enough attempts at saving me?” Harry rescuing him from the floor of the Shrieking Shack, and then sitting at his bedside nearly every day while he recovered at St. Mungo’s were both far more than anyone else would think to do for him. Sometimes in his dreams, he could still hear the younger man’s comforting words.
‘It’s okay...It’s okay now, Professor. You’re safe.’ Nobody had ever really spoken to him that way before, aside from Lily. Trying to keep as much of an emotional distance as he’d like after that was a losing battle. Harry had decided that they were friends, and after a few token protests, Severus had gone along with it, allowing them to get closer and closer. Once he’d noticed that first similarity, they just kept coming, until Severus realised that Harry had never been like James at all.
“...Severus, are you even listening to me?” Harry was frowning now, looking genuinely hurt that the older man wasn’t excited about his Christmas plans. How long had he been talking while Severus was lost in thought?
“Of course I’m listening,” he said with an automatic sneer, waving a hand dismissively. “I still don’t see what about my holiday habits is so objectionable, though.”
“Well, we’re friends,” Harry said with a shrug, starting to wander about the kitchen making tea as though he lived there. It bothered him a little, reawakening that persistent ache of loneliness. “I don’t like the thought of you not having anyone to celebrate with. The Weasleys would love to have you, really. Don’t you think it’d be a little better than sitting here feeling sorry for yourself?”
Severus stared pointedly out the window, so that he didn’t have to look at those beautiful green eyes. What was Harry playing at, asking him to join his adoptive family for Christmas as though they were in a relationship? There was a deer walking down the road, right in front of his house, and the ironic reminder of James and Lily was almost enough to make him groan.
“I gave up feeling sorry for myself a long time ago, Potter,” he lied, taking a seat at the table and watching as Harry poured the tea. He didn’t even have to ask how Severus took his anymore, yet another example of how he’d let this go too far. If he’d never let Harry embark on his ridiculous quest to befriend him, then maybe he wouldn’t be in this mess, pining after someone who would never want him.
“You deserve to be happy.” Harry sat down across from him, giving him a serious look. “You never let anyone in, not really. Do you even have any friends other than me?”
“Minerva and I get together for tea every so often, not that it’s any of your business.”
“I’m sure Molly’s already planning on knitting you a Weasley jumper,” Harry said seriously, taking a sip of tea. “You wouldn’t want to disappoint her by not showing up.”
“Do you really think guilt-tripping works on me, or that I would even want one of those jumpers?” Severus asked, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. The bright, garish colors characteristic of most of the jumpers really were ugly, he thought, but they did look warm, and nobody had ever made him something like that before. Maybe receiving one in black or even a dark green wouldn’t be so bad.
“Probably not, but it’s worth a shot,” Harry replied with a chuckle, one hand inching forward across the table to brush against Severus’. He thought he noticed a hint of nervousness in the younger man’s expression, but dismissed it. Surely it was just his imagination. “And I’d be disappointed too, if you didn’t come.”
That had no right to get to him as much as it did. One hand tightening around his own teacup, he let the other hold onto Harry’s properly, as he tried to keep from looking too happy about the affection.
“I’ll think about it,” Severus mumbled, wondering when he’d gotten so soft. He had to get over this once and for all, and preferably soon, before Harry entered a relationship with someone. No need to break his own heart more than necessary.
xxx
By the time Christmas Eve rolled around, getting out of going to the Burrow proved impossible. Perhaps he could lock himself in his bedroom, though that would be rather childish…No, best to suffer through this with as much dignity as possible.
“Don’t even think about it,” Harry said, having caught his glance towards the stairs.
“Let’s get this over with, then. Everyone is undoubtedly eager to see you, given how much time you’ve been spending here instead.” In the two weeks since Harry had first invited him to join the family for Christmas, he’d been hanging around his house even more often than usual, including spending the night. Severus complained, of course, but he still draped a blanket over the younger man whenever he awoke to find him asleep on the couch.
“Can’t you at least pretend to be looking forward to it? It’ll be fun, I promise. You’ll get to meet Rosie, too,” Harry said, shrinking down a few wrapped gifts and shoving them in his pockets. His face lit up at the mention of his goddaughter, and try as he might, Severus couldn’t muster up a single negative thought about how carelessly happy he looked.
“Ah, yes, because I enjoy meeting babies so much. You’re making this sound better and better,” he retorted sarcastically. Severus had never really understood why everyone got so excited about babies. He supposed they occasionally did something cute, but nothing to look forward to. Harry Potter holding a baby on the other hand...That, he could see the appeal in.
Before Harry had a chance to reply, Severus Apparated to the Burrow. Harry followed close behind, and as they entered the house together, Severus found himself already starting to tense up. These people had no fondness for him, no matter what platitudes they might have said to Harry.
As the hours dragged on, socializing with the extended Weasley family proved to be just as awkward as Severus had been expecting. Molly’s continual poking and prodding about when Harry was going to re-enter the dating world only made things worse. Even now, years after he’d broken up with Ginny, Severus could barely resist the urge to hex the girl whenever they spoke. Having to watch Harry infatuated with someone new seemed like it wouldn’t even be survivable.
xxx
Not long after Severus stepped outside for a few moments of quiet and fresh air, Harry followed him.
“Is it as bad as you thought?” he asked, seeming genuinely curious.
“Hermione is a decent conversationalist,” Severus admitted grudgingly, not lingering too long on how strange it still felt to call his former students by their first names. “And I’ll admit that the baby is...amusing.”
Harry was visibly trying to suppress laughter, and a quiet snort slipped out regardless. Taking out his wand, he cast a warming charm over them both, and pressed a little closer as a way of subtly offering support, as though that sort of casual intimacy was perfectly natural between them. Severus hadn’t even noticed that he’d been favoring his bad leg, still prone to pain and weakness from nerve damage, but apparently Harry had. He always noticed.
“I’m glad you came,” Harry said quietly, and those simple words served to warm Severus’s heart just as much as the charm. Everything seemed a little less harsh and miserable when he was the focus of that affectionate gaze.
“Me too,” he admitted after a few moments, taking a chance and slowly winding an arm around Harry’s waist. Severus couldn’t recall being so nervous in years. He could see the Daily Prophet headline now, ‘War hero dies of heart attack.’
“Is your leg bothering you?”
“Not as much anymore,” he said. If only Harry knew the effect he had on him in moments like this. Severus wasn’t sure there was a single other person in his life he’d smiled at so often. Not even Lily.
“Good,” Harry murmured. “We can go home soon, I swear. You don’t have to put up with everyone for much longer tonight.”
“Home?” Severus echoed blankly, sure that he sounded idiotic. Had Harry just called his house home?
“Er, well, you know…” Harry was fidgeting slightly, staring intently at the moonlight reflecting off the snow rather than at Severus. “I just thought...I’ve kind of been putting off trying to find a place, and I know Ron and Hermione are probably getting sick of me living in their guest room...and we’re...”
“Spit it out already,” Severus retorted, though with less venom in his tone than there would be for anyone else. “Do you mean to say you’ve invited yourself to move in with me?”
Harry blushed, tensing as though in preparation for him to explode at him.
“Presumptuous brat,” he grumbled instead, tone fond. “I suppose I could be persuaded to let you stay, since you’ve been forcing your so-called friendship on me for years as it is.”
“Yeah?”
Before Severus could say anything, Harry’s lips were pressing softly against his own. Surprised, he kissed back, eyes closing for a moment before he pulled away.
“Yeah.”
“In that case, let’s go back inside and say our goodbyes, so we can get home before you get too grumpy, hm?” Harry teased, connecting their lips in another brief but tender kiss before heading for the door.
Just like that, Severus felt lighter than he had in years. They’d need to talk about all of this when they got back home, but it certainly seemed like Harry loved him back. Years of thinking himself unlovable, and now, he’d somehow wound up with a live-in boyfriend without even trying. If all the time he’d spent suffering had earned him this, then it was worth it.
They were still holding hands as they walked back into the crowded sitting room, and he’d never felt more content.
fandom: harry potter
ship: pansy parkinson/blaise zabini, draco malfoy/harry potter, draco malfoy & pansy parkinson
word count: 1433
also on ao3 and ffn
Moving on from Draco was the first step in moving on from the war.
Pansy had never thought that leaving the only home she’d ever known would be so anticlimactic.
Her mother, never a Death Eater and less outspoken than many other purebloods about her support of the Dark Lord, was determined to stay in Britain and continue writing for Witch Weekly. Pansy, on the other hand, was a pariah. Everyone knew about how she’d suggested giving Potter up to the Dark Lord, and very few were inclined to have any sympathy for her.
So, she packed her things and took an international portkey to her family’s vacation home in France, planning to finish her education at Beauxbatons in the fall.
There were no house-elves there, since the Parkinsons occupied the house so infrequently. Pansy frowned, looking at the boxes scattered across the floor and the dust coating many of the visible surfaces. She hadn’t been here in years, and something about the air of neglect made her feel even more lonely.
“Come on, pull it together,” she murmured to herself, blinking back unexpected tears. “You’ve taken care of yourself plenty of times before.”
A few quick household charms sent her things floating out of their boxes, putting themselves away. Carefully getting out of the way of a few robes headed to her closet, Pansy curled up in the window seat, one of her favorite places in the house. It felt safe and cozy in a way few other things were these days. Running a hand over the dark green velvet, she cast a quick Scourgify, and a thin layer of dust vanished, leaving the fabric looking brighter.
She smiled at her reflection in the mirror, but with nobody else around, it looked more forced than ever.
xxx
‘You’re a coward, leaving like that,’ the letter announced, Draco’s handwriting messier than usual, like he’d been too angry to make much of an effort to control it.
Pansy huffed softly and rolled her eyes, trying not to let it get to her. She had experience with Draco’s moods. He was just jealous that he couldn’t do the same thing. He’d come around, she was sure, and even better, now she had all the time in the world to woo him.
The letter continued on in a similar fashion for awhile, Draco venting his frustrations just as he might if they were together in person, lounging by the lake at Hogwarts.
She wrote out a suitable reply, equal parts mocking and reassuring, careful to call him darling no less than three times, lest he forget that she was still perfectly willing to set up a proper engagement, whenever he was ready.
When his next note came, telling her to, ‘Have fun at Beauxbatons, you selfish bitch,’ Pansy threw it in the fire instead.
xxx
The day after that, Blaise scared the shit out of her, which she was sure he was thrilled about. He smirked, leaning against the stone of her fireplace as though he was the one who lived there.
“What are you doing here, Zabini?” Pansy asked warily, crossing her arms. They hadn’t talked much since the battle, and so, unlike Draco, she had no idea where she stood with him.
“Visiting you, of course,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “Damn, Pansy, you look horrible. Really beating yourself up that much over Draco?”
She started to open her mouth to argue with him, but found that she couldn’t. She really didn’t look up to her normal standards. Closing her mouth again, now acutely aware of the fact that she wasn’t wearing makeup, Pansy shrugged, idly twisting a small lock of hair, now long enough to brush her collarbones and not as glossy as it used to be, around her finger.
“Haven’t been in the mood to do much, I guess.” She wasn’t used to being open about her feelings, especially when it meant admitting any kind of weakness. Pansy was the type of person to point out other people’s weaknesses. The war changed everyone, she supposed.
“Unacceptable,” Blaise announced, stepping closer and taking her hand. “Draco’s being a prick, we all know it. He’s just pissy because he’s on probation and Potter vouched for him. So tonight, you and I are going to forget all about him and go out.”
Pansy smiled for what felt like the first time in weeks.
xxx
Slowly, things started to look up, thanks to both Blaise and the beauty of France. Sometimes, walking through town, and buying groceries at little Muggle shops, Pansy almost felt ready to reach out to some of her other friends. Daphne, maybe. Soon.
She didn’t get another letter from Draco until October, just as she’d gotten comfortable in her routine at Beauxbatons. People still knew who she was, of course. She wasn’t making any friends, but her classes were interesting, and nobody bothered her too much.
‘It’s been a hard few months for me,’ the letter said, a rather surprising admission coming from Draco. ‘I didn’t mean to be so harsh. I can’t blame you for getting out. You’re lucky you could.’ Potter’s name caught Pansy’s eye further down the page, and she started reading a little faster, wondering what juicy bit of gossip that might be.
‘Potter’s been nagging me for weeks, telling me I should write you. He’s right, as much as I hate to admit it. I should have done it months ago.’ Potter, giving Draco advice about personal matters? Draco saying Potter was right about something? Pansy could hardly believe her eyes.
‘Part of it is how eager he is for me to tell my friends about us,’ and here, Pansy could almost imagine Draco smiling, as the meaning of the words slowly sunk in. ‘Harry and I are together, Pans. It’s a long story, and he’s still an insufferable git but...it works, somehow. I think I’m happy. Really, actually happy again.’
She barely managed to read the next line (‘You should come visit soon’) as she dropped the parchment onto the table, making a beeline for the liquor cabinet.
xxx
“Knowing it’s real means you gotta make a decision. One, keep denying it. Or two...do something about it.”
“Ugh, I hate it when you’re right,” Pansy grumbled.
Blaise’s visits had become a weekly affair, and it was thanks to him that she wasn’t brooding over Draco all the time. Just most of it. And, of course, he hadn’t let the topic of Draco and Harry’s new relationship go.
“Hate it all you want, as long as you admit that I’m right,” Blaise retorted, stealing a bite of her croissant. “Draco’s in a happy, serious relationship. He’s not going to just fall into your lap.”
“Are you suggesting that I should try to seduce him?” Pansy asked, arching an eyebrow.
“No,” Blaise said with a long-suffering sigh. “I’m suggesting that you try to move on. Get over him.”
“Easy for you to say. Have you ever had real feelings for someone, or do you plan on just fooling around forever?”
“Not the point. I’m sick of seeing you acting miserable because Mr. Perfect has a boyfriend.”
xxx
The following spring, lingering on Harry Potter’s front steps, it was only the memory of all of Blaise’s pep talks, as well as his current, solid presence at her side that gave Pansy the push she needed to knock on the door.
“Parkinson, Zabini, it’s good to see you,” Harry said when he opened the door, sounding remarkably genuine. It was like she was an entirely different person than she was a year ago.
“It’s...nice to see you again too, Potter,” she said, flashing a brief smile before starting to weave through the clusters of mingling guests to find Draco. Though they’d gotten back to writing to each other more often in the past few months, and Floo called now and then, Pansy hadn’t seen him in person since the immediate aftermath of the war.
Unwillingly caught in small talk with Ginny Weasley for the next several minutes, Pansy’s search was put on hold. When she finally caught sight of Draco, he had an arm slung around Harry’s waist, and was leaning in to give him a kiss.
Her breath caught in her throat, and she waited for the inevitable heartbreak at seeing such blatant proof of Draco’s affection for someone else. To her surprise, it never came. Aside from a vague sense of nostalgia, it didn’t hurt at all.
“You okay?” Blaise murmured, having made his way to her side again.
“Yeah,” Pansy replied quietly, interlacing their fingers and giving Blaise’s hand a gentle squeeze. “It feels good.”
Ah <3 can you do any umimaki fluff?? If you can , please !
sorry this took so long, but here it is!!
fandom: love liveship: maki nishikino/umi sonodaword count: 576also on ao3 or ffn
Umi confesses her feelings through song lyrics.
Maki was so absorbed in her music that she almost didn’t notice she wasn’t alone. Almost being the key word. When she really got into the zone, mind full of nothing but her fingers on the piano keys, it was like the world around her ceased to exist.
A brooding, nervous Umi radiated enough pure tension to be an exception to that rule.
At first, Maki tried to just keep playing, sure that when the other girl was ready to speak up about whatever was troubling her, she would. When she made no less than three mistakes in the space of thirty seconds, though, she knew that wouldn’t work. She was too distracted. Sighing, Maki turned away from the piano, quietly sizing up the older girl.
“What is it?”
Umi blanched, expression then morphing into one of obviously-forced stoicism.
“Oh, it’s nothing. Please don’t trouble yourself over it, Maki,” Umi said hastily, chuckling as she folded and refolded a piece of paper in her hands. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your practice.”
“It doesn’t seem like nothing to me. Just tell me. You’ve been acting strange for days.” There was a pause, and then Maki quickly amended, “Not…not that I’ve been paying that much attention or anything.”
The slightest hint of a smile flashed across Umi’s face at that, and she inclined her head in acknowledgement.
“Right, well, it’s just this,” she replied, handing Maki the piece of paper. The fingers of her other hand fussed with her long, dark hair, combing through it and twisting it around her fingers in an obvious nervous gesture.
Maki peered down at the paper, hoping it might reveal some clue as to what had Umi so anxious.
“These are…lyrics for a new song,” she said slowly, unable to figure out how this was any different than their normal collaboration routine. They were good, as always, and appeared to be on the topic of having a crush, something μ’s sang about quite frequently. Sure, it was a bit more saccharine than some of Umi’s usual work, but surely that couldn’t explain all of this.
“Yes,” Umi confirmed.
“Okay, so…how does this explain the way you’ve been acting?”
“They’re for you.” Umi’s voice got softer, and a telltale blush spread across her face. “The song is about you. Oh, I know I shouldn’t have been so blatant about it, this was absolutely shameless of me, but I just…You deserve the best tribute I could possibly give you.”
Maki felt her own face growing hot as she smoothed out the paper, now looking at the lyrics in an entirely new light.
“Umi-chan, don’t worry,” she said awkwardly, equally uncomfortable with expressing her feelings about this. “They’re great. Thank you. And I, um…I like you too.”
Umi, looking as though she was in a state of total disbelief, walked closer, sitting down next to Maki on the piano bench.
“Really?”
“Yes, really. Do you think I would say something so embarrassing as a joke?” Maki retorted, face half-hidden behind her scarlet hair in an attempt to hide the fact that her face was nearly as red.
“No, I guess not.”
“Okay, so it’s settled. You like me and I like you.”
“I suppose it is,” Umi said, a hint of amusement in her tone. She reached over, gently grasping Maki’s hand. “Maybe this could be a duet,” she continued, peering at the new lyrics again. “You and me.”
fandom: harry potter
ship: draco malfoy/harry potter, draco malfoy & pansy parkinson
word count: 1835
also on ffn and ao3
As much as he's tried to hate Harry, and be someone his father is proud of, Draco can't deny how much of his past still rings true.
It almost felt as though the ache in his left arm intensified just from picking up the journal. Draco shook his head slightly, pushing that thought aside. He was just being paranoid. The Dark Lord knew much, but even he wasn’t aware of everything, nor would he care about something like a childhood journal.
Sitting down on the edge of his bed with the journal in his lap, Draco ran his fingertips over the soft, dark green cover, tracing the silvery dragon embossed on it. It had been so long since he’d even thought about the childish ramblings inside, but he needed a reminder that things hadn’t always been this horrible. He hadn’t always been so scared.
Curling up against his pillows and drawing the curtains around his bed, he opened the journal and started to read.
‘I can’t wait to meet Harry Potter. We’re going to be best friends, I know it. We can play Quidditch together, and I’ll show him around the Manor. Pansy and Blaise will probably want to meet him too, but he’ll like me best. We’ll tell each other everything and go on adventures together at school. He’ll be with me in Slytherin, of course, and our beds will be right next to each other. Everyone will be so jealous of us, but we’ll always like each other more than anyone else. We could never replace each other. I’ll always protect him, no matter what, even if it’s scary.’
Swallowing roughly, Draco set the journal down again, trying to ignore how his hands were shaking. He’d tried for years now to convince everyone else, along with himself, that he hated Harry, but despite the resentment he felt over being rejected on the train that day, it wasn’t true. Even at sixteen, he still harbored the same sort of fondness he had at eight, nine, ten...God, how many years had he spent dreaming about a boy he’d never even met?
The telltale creak of the door opening jolted him from his reverie. Draco stayed quiet behind his curtains, hoping that whoever it was wouldn’t notice that he was there, but of course, he wasn’t so lucky. The dark green velvet was unceremoniously pushed aside, and Pansy flung herself down onto the bed next to him.
“What are you doing moping in here, Draco? Don’t you know there’s a party going on?” she asked, blood red lips curling into a pout. Pansy reached over, picking up the journal from his lap and taking the liberty of resting a hand on his thigh while she was at it. With a pointed glare, Draco picked up her hand and moved it away.
“We’re alone, you don’t have to do that.”
Pansy just rolled her eyes, opening the journal and starting to flick through the pages. These days, there was no way Draco would leave something private unprotected like that, but as a child, he hadn’t yet known the right charms.
“So grumpy today,” his fake girlfriend and best friend simpered, in the fake, sugary sweet voice she knew he hated.
“What do you want, Pans?”
“I’m worried about you,” she replied, tone far more serious now as she inched closer, finger marking the page Draco had been lingering on just a few minutes before. “This...it isn’t good for you.”
“Of course it’s not good for me,” Draco hissed, face flushed with embarrassment and frustration. “Since when is being sent on a suicide mission good for anyone? There’s nothing I can do about it, I’ve told you that.”
Pansy sighed, fingers of her free hand twitching slightly against Draco’s bedspread. It was obvious she was resisting the urge to touch him again, and he was half tempted to just give up and let her.
“And yet you haven’t told me what this impossible task is. Draco...maybe you should ask for help.”
“From who? Nobody’s supposed to know. Snape does, but...I don’t trust him. I don’t know what his motives are.”
Getting out her wand, Pansy cast a silencing charm around the bed before starting to speak again.
“From Potter.”
Draco automatically recoiled as though he’d been slapped, fear obvious in his eyes for a fraction of a second. Even thinking about betraying the Dark Lord...it wasn’t a secret to be shared unless you wanted to be killed.
Pansy frowned and set the journal down, moving closer to stroke her fingers through his hair. It felt nice, and Draco’s gaze darted briefly to her pale, unmarked forearm, unable to suppress a pang of jealousy. The Parkinsons supported the Dark Lord verbally, but they weren’t a family of Death Eaters. Not like his.
“It’s okay, darling,” she murmured, eyes soft with sympathy. “I know. I support you far more than the Dark Lord. If you think Potter’s side is the one to be on, then I’ll join you.” Draco noted with a vague sense of amusement that even now, Pansy couldn’t stop the way her nose crinkled in distaste when she said Potter’s name.
“I can’t,” Draco whispered, fighting to keep his voice from cracking. He hadn’t cried in front of anyone since he was five years old, and he wasn’t planning on starting now. “I can’t change sides, he’ll kill me. He’ll kill my mother.”
“I’ll always protect him, no matter what, even if it’s scary,” Pansy read from the journal, wrapping an arm around Draco as he curled into her, inhaling the familiar, spicy scent of her perfume. “You’ve been on the other side all along. Don’t you think it would be safer to have someone protecting you?”
“I’ll think about it.”
They stayed like that for awhile, curled around each other in silence, with Pansy petting his hair.
“You love him,” she said eventually, completely out of the blue.
“I know.”
xxx
Despite what he’d said, the decision to go to Harry for help had already been made. What else could he do? The only thing to think about was how to convince the Boy Who Lived to defend two Slytherins (three, if he was able to convince his mother) who he likely thought were evil.
The day he finally acted dawned cold and drizzly, and on his way to breakfast in the morning, Draco paused to watch the rain pour down the windows in rivulets. It was there that Pansy wound up joining him, looking perfectly made up despite the early hour. For a few moments, they just stood there, Draco staring out the window moodily and Pansy sneering at girls from other houses as they walked past.
The Golden Trio rounded the corner just as he was getting particularly involved in watching two raindrops race down the glass, and Draco reluctantly tore his gaze away to focus on Harry instead, summoning up all the courage he had.
“Potter, I need to talk to you. Without Granger and Weasley.” It had been tempting to say Weaselbee and the mudblood, like he might have years before, but really, Draco supposed he should be civil if they were on the same side, now. The word mudblood had always left an ugly aftertaste in his mouth anyway.
All three of them hesitated, and Draco could feel Pansy gripping his hand tight, tight, tight, nails digging into his flesh, but then Harry nodded.
“I suppose Parkinson is coming?”
“Of course. This involves me too, Potter,” Pansy retorted, tilting her chin up a bit, as though they weren’t about to humiliate themselves by groveling and hoping for a Gryffindor’s mercy.
As expected, explaining to Harry what they needed and trying to convince him that it wasn’t a trick was humiliating. Pansy chimed in now and then to help, but as she still wasn’t fond of the Gryffindor in the least, Draco tried to do most of the talking, out of fear that she might insult him.
Slowly, not wanting Potter to assume he was pulling his wand and spook, Draco removed the journal from the inside pocket of his robes.
“Here, just...look,” he requested, handing it over. Draco was resigned to his fate. By doing this much, he’d already guaranteed that he would be killed if the news ever got back to the Dark Lord. His only choice at this point was to do absolutely anything to secure help and protection from the other side. If this wasn’t enough, perhaps he could be questioned under Veritaserum. He could provide whatever information he could. Draco felt horribly weak, but then again, self-preservation was strength in its own way.
Harry flipped through the pages, skimming over what was written there, and Draco could see it the instant he got to the really sappy stuff. All sorts of childish imaginings of what their friendship would be like, as well as even more embarrassing things. Things like, ‘Mother always says my eyes are very pretty. I hope Harry thinks so too, even if his are better.’ All at once, everything looked different. Harry’s face looked even more open and honest, if that was even possible, and he gazed at Draco as if his entire view had changed too.
“Never realized you felt that way, Malfoy.” he said, thumb rubbing idly over the paper.
“I did. I do.”
“He’s always talked about you,” Pansy said. “Mostly bad things after you rejected him like that, but to anyone who knows Draco like I do...it was obvious he still cared.”
Harry seemed to consider that for awhile, handing the journal back after reading a bit more.
“We need all the allies we can get,” he said eventually. “I still don’t trust you entirely, but I can’t just leave you in danger, knowing this.”
“Thank you, Potter,” he said, a little surprised to find that it didn’t feel hard to say it at all. “I...appreciate you giving us a chance.”
Pansy elbowed him sharply in the ribs.
“Hug him or something. Now’s your chance,” she said in a rather loud stage-whisper, clearly intended for Harry to hear.
Draco felt his face go hot, pale skin flushing pink.
“Pansy!”
“Do you, er, want me to hug you?” Harry asked, looking far more amused than he had any right to be.
Draco shrugged, offering a halfhearted sneer in a last attempt to retain a little bit of dignity, and Harry took that as a yes, stepping closer and wrapping his arms around him securely.
It was a rather awkward embrace, and both of them pulled back after only a few seconds, but it was warm, and felt almost...right.
“Right, well, meet me back here tonight at 9:00, and I’ll let you know what I find out,” Harry said, not letting the silence drag on for too long. He was blushing too, though, Draco noticed. The fact that he was willing to hug someone who had treated him so harshly at all was a testament to Harry’s near-sickening goodness, he thought.
“Alright. Great.”
Harry paused halfway out the door, glancing back at him.
fandom: harry potter
ship: draco malfoy/harry potter
word count: 775
also on ao3 or ffn
"You don't count. I wouldn't be here if I had anyone else."
"That's not what you were saying last weekend. You proposed to me."
How had he gotten to this point? It was a question that Harry had been asking himself more and more often lately. Part of him wasn't even sure he wanted an answer. He'd completely fallen for one of the most unattainable men he'd ever met. Draco Malfoy was snarky, spoiled, impossible to please, and quite possibly a criminal. He'd never wanted anyone more.
The sound of the door opening jolted him out of his thoughts, and Harry looked up from his latte. The coffee shop had become their place, and Harry had taken to spending time there even when they didn't have plans, in the hopes that Draco might do the same.
Today, he wasn't disappointed.
Draco caught his eye while he was waiting in line, flashing a tiny, secretive smile. Smiling back, Harry couldn't help but trace a fingertip over the letters on his wrist.
"Fancy meeting you here," he joked when the other man sat down across from him, taking a sip of coffee and loosely interlocking their fingers.
"Do you really have nothing better to do than sitting around and hoping to see me, Potter?"
"Honestly? No, not at the moment." Was he really so transparent? Plenty of people enjoyed hanging out in coffee shops, frequented them for purposes other than meeting their soulmate.
"Neither do I," Draco admitted, self-assured expression going melancholy. "You've...somehow become one of the best parts of my life. I can...speak to you in a way I can't with other people. I don't have to worry so much about my reputation with you."
"Well, that's how it's supposed to be with soulmates, isn't it?" Harry asked, arching an eyebrow and gently rubbing his thumb against the soft skin of Draco's hand.
"You don't know who I am, Potter," Draco mumbled, an argument that he'd tried to make countless times before. "You don't know what I've done. You shouldn't want to be my soulmate." His voice got harsher than usual at the end of the sentence, spitting out 'soulmate' like it was a dirty word.
"I know what bits and pieces you've let me see so far, and I like them," Harry said honestly. "You're right, I don't know what you've done, or why you're so hesitant about the idea of being with me, but I want to try."
Draco bit his lip, staying silent for a long few moments.
"I've done things I regret. My father isn't a good person, and I don't think I am either," he explained, voice hushed. "For a long time, I didn't think that mattered, but now...I can't change the past." Draco took another sip of coffee, still holding Harry's hand tightly. "I'm just...I'm so lonely. No one wants to hang out anymore. Not that I can blame them," he added with a low chuckle.
"What about me?" Harry asked, indignant.
"You don't count. I wouldn't be here if I had anyone else." This wasn't the first time Draco had said something like that, but it still stung.
"That's not what you were saying last weekend," he blurted without thinking about it. Harry hadn't been planning on bringing up that night at all, but it was too late now. The words were out of his mouth.
"You don't know what you're talking about, Harry," Draco muttered, not seeming to notice his slip-up. Using last names was a way of maintaining emotional distance for him. It hadn't been hard for Harry to figure that much out. The fact that he always seemed to call him Harry when he wasn't in control, then, suggested that his real feelings were much stronger than he let on.
"I think I do. You proposed to me. Not many people would want to marry someone they're only even talking to because they have no other options."
"I was drunk," Draco growled, hand tightening around his coffee cup. "Not thinking clearly."
"I would have said yes," Harry said, face flushing in embarrassment. "If you'd asked when you were sober...I would have said yes."
He tugged up his sleeve a little, showing Draco the name on his wrist.
"This matters to me. The fact that we're soulmates matters. I'm not saying we have to get married tomorrow, obviously. We've only known each other for a few months. But...someday, yeah. I'd like to get to that point with you."
"You don't know me," Draco said again, though his voice was softer now. "There's so much you don't know."
"Then teach me," Harry replied simply.
When he leaned in for a kiss, the sounds of the coffee shop around them fading away, it felt like coming home.
fandom: harry potter
ship: draco malfoy/harry potter ; draco malfoy/harry potter/severus snape
word count: 3044
also on ffn and ao3
A new home is, in many ways, a new beginning. Sometimes, with a bit of luck, it can lead to a better ending than before.
“Look, I know it’s not exactly your first choice, but I really think it’s the best option right now.” Harry’s voice was slow, soft, as though he was talking to a wild animal who could attack at any moment. “Just until we figure things out, you know? I’ll get Hermione to help us, and we’ll get all of it straightened out. It’ll be fine.” The slight waver of his lower lip betrayed him, and he hoped that somehow, Draco wouldn’t notice it. Everything will be fine, he repeated to himself, thinking the words over and over like a benediction. Maybe if he thought it enough, it would come true. Most people dismissed wish magic as a myth, but he couldn’t help hoping that maybe things would work out.
“Stop kidding yourself, Potter. I’m living on borrowed time and we both know it.” Draco’s voice cut through his thoughts, sounding harsher than he had in awhile. It hurt a little, but perhaps that was a good thing. If Draco was still angry, it meant he hadn’t given up completely yet. “The Ministry won’t stop until they have me in Azkaban, especially after the...disappointment my father was. They won’t afford me the same luxury.”
Lucius Malfoy had killed himself a mere two months into his Azkaban sentence. Harry swallowed hard, staring down at the cracked tabletop.
“This will buy us some more time. Living in the Muggle world...maybe even putting it under a Fidelius if we have to...We’ll have time to figure out what to do. Don’t you think that matters?”
Draco sneered, getting up from the table and pushing his chair in with a clatter.
“Fine, I’ll look at whatever hovel you scrounged up tomorrow. Right now, I’m going to bed.”
Harry looked out at the window, at the pale, gray afternoon outside, and sighed.
Draco paused in the kitchen doorway, glancing back at him.
“I want to visit Snape tomorrow too. Only right that I go to his grave one last time.”
“Okay.” Harry didn't bother to argue that it wouldn't be the last time. It very well might be.
Sunlight streamed in, illuminating the whole kitchen in a remarkably cheery glow. Even as cleaned up as they’d gotten it over the past couple of years, Grimmauld Place wasn’t all that inviting most of the time. Soon, though, things would change. Harry would still keep the old family home, of course, but they’d be able to get a place of their own, without so much dark history.
“Well, what do you think? It’s nice, right?” he asked, gaze flicking from Draco to Severus and back again. He’d laid out photos of the latest house he’d looked at, and was hoping fervently that this one would be a hit. After talking about it for so long, Harry was eager to finally move in together.
“It’s nice,” Severus agreed with an approving nod, seeming particularly intrigued by a spare basement room that they could turn into a lab. It even had the same feel as his old personal lab at Hogwarts. “Though most anything would be an improvement on Spinner’s End,” he amended.
Harry just chuckled, accepting that assessment with a nod. It was true, after all, and he hadn’t been expecting outright praise from Severus. Just knowing that he was on board with the plan was good enough. Draco would be the trickier one to convince, he suspected.
“Draco?” Severus prompted, beating Harry to it. “Your thoughts?”
Draco was still inspecting the pictures carefully, lower lip jutting out in a pout.
“It’s alright,” he replied slowly, straightening up to look over at the both of them with a critical expression. “A bit small though, don’t you think?”
It was all Harry could do not to groan audibly. They’d been looking for someplace to live for months, and almost every time, it was Draco who had vetoed whatever they were looking at. A glance at Severus showed that the older man looked downright murderous.
“I’m joking,” Draco announced a moment later with a roll of his eyes. “Honestly, you two are hopeless sometimes. You should see the looks on your faces.” Sliding a hand across the table to interlace his fingers with Harry’s, he nodded, pout transforming into a faint smile. “Yeah, I like it. I think this might be the one.”
Harry squeezed his hand tightly in return, feeling incredibly relieved. He was grinning so widely his face actually started to hurt, and even Severus had a quiet, pleased look about him.
“Finally.”
“I’m not living here.”
“Draco, please,” Harry urged, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his chest. He’d known this was coming, but he couldn’t do much better, especially on such short notice. They’d both spent so much of their money on Draco’s legal fees, fighting for a good outcome in his trial, that they couldn’t afford the standard of luxury Draco was used to, especially if they were going to effectively blend in with the Muggle city around them.
“What’s the point?” Draco shot back, crossing his arms and leaning against the grimy wall. A moment later, he seemed to rethink that, and straightened up again to avoid coming into further contact with it. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this.”
“Because I love you. Of course I’m not going to just...give up and let you go to prison,” Harry said incredulously. “You don’t deserve that. You’ve changed, and even in the first place, you were forced into it...” He sighed, looking up to meet Draco’s eyes and silently willing him to understand. “You’re a good person now, Draco, and even if the Ministry can’t see that, I can.”
“I wouldn’t, if I were you,” Draco replied roughly, arms still crossed tightly across his chest. “I’d let me die, because unlike you, I have some sense of self-preservation.”
“It’s worked out for me so far,” Harry retorted, lips curling into a crooked smile. “Is it really such a bad thing that I’d do anything for you?”
“Yes. No. I don’t...Fuck, just...come here,” Draco muttered, unfolding his arms to tug Harry into a fierce embrace.
“Don’t ever leave,” he mumbled into Harry’s neck, nails digging into his back. “Don’t ever leave, you stupid git.”
“I won’t.”
They Apparated to an alley close to the new house at exactly 12:57, plenty of time to reach the front door for their appointment at 1:00. Both Severus and Draco placed great importance on being punctual, and even Harry, with his more lax views on the matter, was excited enough that there was no way he could possibly be late.
“I'm so glad you can finally see it,” Harry said as they walked up the front steps. “You're going to love it.”
Pausing in front of the door, he and Severus both turned their gazes to Draco, apparently having the same idea. The house was in a Muggle area, and therefore, they were doing their walk-through with a Muggle realtor. The two half-bloods had no problems blending in, but Draco was still woefully ignorant most of the time.
“You look good,” Severus announced, satisfied with his inspection of Draco’s outfit. They'd gone through this routine before leaving Grimmauld Place too, but it never hurt to be careful.
“Of course I do,” Draco replied with a sniff, preening under the attention. “I'm hurt you'd ever think otherwise.”
“Yes, yes, you're impossibly gorgeous,” Severus drawled, looking thoroughly unimpressed. He did, however, lean in to give him a quick kiss anyway, while Harry looked on in amusement.
That done, they finally entered the house, finding that the realtor was already waiting for them in the kitchen. Harry had already met with her once before on his own, but he'd neglected to inform her of all the details of his home life. Apparently, he should have.
“Oh, this must be the boyfriend,” she cooed, gesturing towards Draco, who went faintly pink at the sudden attention. Before Harry could respond, her attention was drawn to Severus, who managed to look imposing and broody even in jeans and a t-shirt. All black, of course, like nearly everything else he owned. “And this is...” the realtor trailed off, smile faltering momentarily. It was clear that she was doing the math in her head, trying to figure out if he could be one of their fathers, despite the total lack of resemblance.
“Also the boyfriend,” Harry chimed in hastily, before Severus could respond far less politely. “They're...We’re all together.” His face felt hot with embarrassment. Even as a grown man, who could clearly date whoever he pleased, there was an instinctive fear of disapproval when explaining their rather unconventional relationship to someone old enough to be his grandmother.
Conversation died down fairly quickly after that, and they stayed quiet as they wandered through the house, occasionally commenting on one feature or another. Already, it was easy to imagine making it their own, from the luxurious master bedroom to the dark, eerie basement he’d used as a selling point for Severus.
“We’ll take it,” Draco announced once they’d completed their tour, giving the realtor his patented Malfoy smile. He certainly knew how to be charming.
“Oh, I'm glad to hear it, dear,” the realtor replied, offering a fond smile as she rearranged some papers. Harry was, frankly, impressed by her ability to completely ignore Draco’s arrogance. It rivaled his own willful ignorance. “Always so nice to see young love. I'll be in touch soon.”
It wasn't until they were back in the alleyway, getting ready to depart, that Harry spoke again.
“Looks like someone was awfully fond of Draco,” he teased, snickering. “Planning on leaving us?”
“Oh, shut up. It's only natural, with my immense charm and good looks.”
“Like father, like son,” Severus mumbled under his breath. Then realizing something, he swore under his breath. “Speaking of Lucius, weren't we invited to dinner tomorrow night?”
“You're right, I think that was tomorrow,” Draco agreed thoughtfully. “Perhaps I should...”
“Can we stop talking about Draco’s parents for now?” Harry cut in before they could get too carried away. “We’re buying a house!”
“I guess this is it,” Draco announced, tossing a piece of parchment down on the table. It looked rumpled, like it had been read and crumpled up over and over.
“What do you mean, ‘this is it?’” Harry asked, frowning as he got up and walked over to his boyfriend, wanting to take a look at the letter himself.
“My last warning to give myself up. If we’re going to try to hide, we have to go tonight.”
Reading the missive showed that Draco was right, though Harry hadn’t expected otherwise anyway. He nodded slowly, running a hand through his hair. They’d been preparing for this for a week, ever since visiting the shabby apartment that would serve as their new home. They could be ready to go in a matter of minutes, with the help of magic.
“Then that’s what we’ll do,” he replied, trying to keep his voice from shaking. He had to push his feelings aside and be there for Draco, be strong for him. He’d always been the hero, after all. That was what he did for everyone.
Draco nodded and flicked his wand with false calm, watching as a suitcase started to pack itself.
“We don’t have time to do the Fidelius tonight,” Harry said regretfully. They should have done it in advance of actually moving, but neither of them had thought it would come to this quite so soon. “I can ask Hermione to be our secret-keeper, though, and we can do it first thing tomorrow.”
Draco’s lips twitched, looking as though he was tempted to say something about that, but he held his tongue, starting to shrink down their various boxes and suitcases. Harry couldn’t blame him for wanting a distraction. He watched, snagging a bottle of Firewhiskey from the liquor cabinet. It was going to be a long night.
“You don’t have to do the whole hero thing, you know,” Draco muttered once everything they needed was packed and shrunken. Harry suspected he was just delaying their imminent departure by trying to pick a fight. “There’s no reason you have to hide too. You could stay here, at home.”
“You really think I’d leave you in the Muggle world alone, with no help or company? Don’t give me that ‘it’s the smart thing to do’ bullshit, Malfoy. I get that you’re scared, but I’m really getting sick of you trying to convince me to go back on my word. It’s not happening.”
“Move over,” Draco whined, jabbing a pointy elbow into his side. “And stop hogging the blankets.”
“I’m not hogging the blankets,” Harry argued, though he did move over, nearly on top of Severus now.
Tiredly, Severus wound an arm around him before reaching the other hand under his pillow for his wand, casting a mild warming charm over all three of them.
“Satisfied, Draco?” he asked, barely stifling a yawn. “I don’t know how I ever get any sleep with you two constantly bickering like children. I may have to have my own bedroom.”
“That’s right,” Harry murmured, ignoring the idle threat, as well as the little, disapproving noise Draco made in reply. “This is the last night that you’re just sleeping over. Tomorrow, we’ll be living together.”
“It’s rather late to be having second thoughts,” Severus said. His voice remained perfectly even and silky, but the arm around Harry tightened just slightly, betraying his insecurities.
“I’m not, don’t worry. I just can’t believe it’s finally happening after wanting it for so long.”
“I still can’t believe either of you want me at all sometimes,” the older man replied softly, a hand stroking up and down Draco’s side. “Not only saving my life, but befriending me, and inviting me into this relationship...” He shook his head, clearly a little embarrassed by that show of vulnerability, and Harry leaned up and kissed him.
“I love you,” Harry murmured. “My life wouldn’t be the same without you, and I’m so glad I got the chance to find out.” His fingertips brushed over Severus’ neck, finding the scars that remained from Nagini’s attack. Though it had been years, he remembered the fear he’d felt at the thought of Severus’ impending death like it was yesterday. Draco had been clinging to him so tightly Harry had been surprised he didn’t leave bruises. Severus still didn’t know the exact circumstances surrounding how the two of them had saved his life, and Harry was just fine with that. Maybe they’d tell him someday.
“Besides, Sev, could you really imagine things working out this well if Harry and I were alone?” Draco chimed in, pressing flush against Harry in an attempt to get closer to them both. “He’d drive me mad.”
“That’s true,” Severus mused, lips curling into a smirk. “It does sometimes take both of us to prevent some of Harry’s more idiotic schemes...”
“It was one of my more idiotic schemes that saved your life,” Harry said, pouting slightly. He wasn’t really upset by the comment, of course, but he couldn’t pass up a chance to tease Severus. “And that got you to finally agree to date us after years.”
Severus shrugged, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.
“Those, I’m grateful for.”
“Home sweet home,” Draco drawled, nose wrinkling in distaste as he looked around. A quick spell got their things started unpacking themselves, freeing him up to sneer at the apartment.
“Most of this can be fixed with a few quick charms. And besides, it’s better than a cell in Azkaban, isn’t it?”
That was a low blow, and Harry knew it. Draco stalked away, slamming a door as he went.
Hours later, he finally returned, curling up next to him.
“I’m sorry,” Harry said. “I shouldn’t have said that. At least we’re together, right? I’ve dreamed of moving in with you, and maybe it’s not perfect, but....”
Draco had found the firewhiskey. He took a sip straight from the bottle, then passed it to Harry.
“Sometimes I wish things could be different,” the blond said, sounding uncharacteristically vulnerable. “I wish I was better.”
“Me too,” Harry said, curling closer to Draco and taking a sip of his own. “I wish I could’ve fixed things for you. Been there sooner.”
“I’ll never be able to leave here,” Draco whispered. “Not without Polyjuice or your invisibility cloak, anyway. I’m going to be trapped in this fucking Muggle flat forever.”
“I’m talking to Hermione about it. She’ll figure something out.” Then, wanting to lighten the mood, Harry added, “Did I ever tell you about how I had a crush on Snape for awhile?”
Draco laughed, a sound he hadn’t heard in far too long.
“I did too,” he admitted, as they continued to pass the Firewhiskey back and forth. “God, can you imagine us both trying to pursue him?”
“Might’ve been fun,” Harry said.
“I miss him.”
“Yeah, me too.”
“I can’t believe this is really happening,” Harry said, smiling. Something about the sight of the home they’d chosen together, filled with the eclectic mix of items representing three very different lives, lit up something warm in his chest. “I’ve never had a real home before.”
“I don’t think any of us have,” Severus replied.
They were only half unpacked, opened boxes laying everywhere, but Draco tugged them both down onto the couch, sprawling across their laps shamelessly.
“It’s worth it,” he said, gray eyes meeting green in a meaningful look. “All of it.”
Harry nodded, fingers running through Draco’s hair. A new home deserved a new beginning, without quite so many secrets.
“Severus...we have something to tell you.”
“Do you know who sent this?” Harry called, picking up an envelope from the table. Draco shook his head, prompting him to frown, but he opened it anyway.
Inside was Hermione’s time turner from third year, and a small note.
‘Do what you have to do. Just be careful, both of you. -Hermione’
fandom: harry potter
ship: harry potter/severus snape
word count: 967
also on ao3 and ffn
"I love you, and I'm not going to change my mind about that. I'll spend the rest of my life convincing you if I need to." Harry is always the exception to the rules governing Severus' life.
“I love you.” Harry sounded more exasperated than affectionate, and frankly, Severus couldn’t blame him. He knew perfectly well when he was being an arse, contrary to some people’s opinions, perhaps. He just acted that way anyway, preventing anyone from getting too close and seeing his myriad vulnerabilities. Harry was one of the very few people who had bothered fighting his way past those defenses, but even still, Severus couldn’t relinquish control entirely.
“Yet another example of poor decision-making on your part,” he said with a sneer, stepping into his study. Severus neglected to close the door behind him, a subtle way of giving Harry permission to continue the conversation if he wished.
“We’ve been together for three years. When are you going to start believing that I’m serious about my feelings? That I love all of you, unpleasant parts included?” Harry leaned against the door-frame, one hand brushing a few unruly locks of hair out of his face.
Face impassive, Severus shrugged, trying to avoid looking at those piercing green eyes. They were always filled with so much emotion that making eye contact with Harry made him feel almost compelled to spill more of his feelings than he’d ever intended. Just a look from his lover would be an adequate substitute for Veritaserum.
“I may never believe it,” he said honestly, gaze fixed on the chipped paint slightly to the left of Harry’s head. “Most people do not consider me a lovable man. You know that.”
“Since when have you cared about what other people think?” Harry admonished softly, stepping further into the room. “I love you, and I’m not going to change my mind about that. I’ll spend the rest of my life convincing you if I need to.”
For just a moment, his stoic expression faltered, and he stepped a little closer as well. He hated feeling this way, like he wasn’t even worthy of Harry’s touch. He didn’t deserve to be with someone so truly good.
Even as he thought that, though, Harry closed the distance, wrapping an arm around him and pressing a tender kiss to his jawline. A slight shiver ran down Severus’ spine, and he leaned into him, ignoring his feelings of inadequacy for now. No reason to trouble Harry with his problems any more than he needed to.
“I love you too,” he breathed, allowing himself to clutch Harry tighter.
“Now, do you want to talk about what upset you earlier?” Harry asked after a few moments of silence, still obligingly snuggled into Severus’ chest.
“Not particularly.”
Harry had clearly been expecting that answer, because he just gave a hum of acknowledgment, pulling back from the embrace slightly to kiss him.
“Okay, if you’re sure. Let me know if you change your mind.” Harry had never been the best at giving advice and comforting people verbally anyway. His primary strategy was copying what Hermione would say if she were there, or spewing incredibly sappy platitudes. Severus found it disgusting. He also found it unbearably adorable.
Severus gave a curt nod. He knew there was no point in arguing that he wouldn’t change his mind. He might as well just accept the offer and hope that Harry would forget about it.
Slowly, he then disentangled himself from the younger man’s hold, starting to leave the study. If his brooding time would have to wait until later either way, they might as well go to the bedroom and get more comfortable, instead of standing in the middle of his office. He didn’t get more than a few steps into the hallway before Harry realized where he was going.
“Wait,” he blurted, lunging into the hall as well to block his path.
“Yes,” Severus replied slowly, arching an eyebrow. “Am I no longer allowed to enter our bedroom?”
“Er, well, it’s just...” It was painfully clear that Harry was mentally flailing, searching for any possible excuse to keep Severus from continuing to his destination. “It’s after four,” he finally settled on, the relief obvious on his face. “You need to take your potion before you forget.”
Severus couldn’t argue with that, actually. Ever since narrowly surviving Nagini’s attack years before, he’d needed to take daily potions to minimize the lingering side effects from his injuries. He nodded, casting another suspicious look towards Harry before turning away to fetch the potion. Judging by the sound of the hurried footsteps behind him, the other had instantly headed for the bedroom himself. Very suspicious.
He quickly downed his potion, grimacing at the bitter taste, and then followed Harry, already preparing himself from an argument. It was clear that the former Gryffindor was hiding something from him. What exactly that was, Severus didn’t know, but he intended to find out.
“What is going on?” He crossed his arms, giving Harry his best stern professor look. It hadn’t worked on him in years, but it was worth a shot.
“Something I hope you’ll like,” Harry replied softly, flashing that crooked grin that never failed to make Severus melt. His heart clenched in his chest, and he offered the barest hint of a smile of his own.
“Get on with it, then. Tell me.”
Smile growing even more at that, Harry withdrew a small box from his pocket, nearly tripping over himself in his haste to drop to one knee.
“Severus...will you marry me?”
Not many people managed to make Severus speechless, but, once again, Harry was one of the exceptions. He nodded jerkily, finding himself unable to do anything more than that for a long few seconds. It all felt too good to be true.
“I...yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.”
“Like I said,” Harry murmured. “I’ll spend the rest of my life proving to you that I love you. I can’t imagine doing anything else.”
fandom: harry potter
ship: n/a (possibly implied harry potter/severus snape)
word count: 777
also on ao3 and ffn
Without even knowing it, the boy had given him a reason to live, helped him see a little bit of the good in humanity.
Before I give back, I gotta get drunk
Cleaning charms, though excellent at removing any trace of a stain, couldn’t completely remove the stench of blood. It sank deep into the fabric, an undeniable reminder of what he’d done. What he was. This was nothing new, though. Severus’ face remained impassive as he walked up the front steps from his Apparition point, not betraying a hint of distress. It still hurt knowing the crime he’d committed, that he’d taken another life after vowing to himself that he’d never do it again, but at least it was for a good cause this time.
Locking the door behind him, he took a slow, measured breath. He may have just signed his own death warrant. Even the tiniest slip-up could lead to someone realizing he’d been the one to do it, and then, there wouldn’t be any saving his cover.
Severus paused in his bedroom, looking at the few photographs he had displayed. Lily, young and happy in all of them, oblivious to her ultimate fate. And, off to the side, nestled in a corner, her son with his two infuriatingly loyal friends, huddled together and looking like any other group of students, not people hopelessly embroiled in the midst of a war. It had been taken by the Creevey boy, he believed, and if he’d happened to find it on the floor of his classroom, well, there was nothing wrong with picking it up.
In the photo, Potter turned and smiled at him faintly, green eyes impossibly bright. He had to protect him. He’d promised. And God, had the boy ever had a mentor who hadn’t either abandoned or mistreated him? He was among those who’d treated Potter unfairly. Severus knew that, but what other choice did he have, when he needed to keep up appearances as a loyal Death Eater? He could help Potter, no, Harry, in different, less obvious ways.
Like killing the Death Eater who’d been following him through the streets of Little Whinging.
Severus closed his eyes for a moment, forced up his Occlumency shields, but he could still see the deep gashes crisscrossing the man’s body, the blood pooling on the floor. Sectumsempra was a grisly curse, but by avoiding the Unforgivables, he could pretend that he hadn’t done quite so much damage to his soul. And besides that, a part of him had wanted the satisfaction of using his signature curse that afternoon. It allowed him to leave his mark on the situation, prove (if only to himself), that he had done what needed to be done to keep Harry safe.
Opening his eyes again, he summoned a bottle of whiskey and a glass, sinking down into one of his favorite chairs.
“Fuck,” Severus muttered under his breath as he took a sip, the alcohol burning his throat on the way down. He’d never truly become desensitized to that kind of extreme violence, he was just a good actor. Alone, and thinking of how much Harry hated him, it was even harder. Without even knowing it, the boy had given him a reason to live, helped him see a little bit of the good in humanity.
Eyes stinging with unshed tears, he tossed back the rest of his whiskey before pouring himself another.
This was a fairly regular routine for Severus, and so he was far from a lightweight. It took awhile before he started to feel the effects of the alcohol, and by that time, he’d had ample opportunities to think over the day’s events. Perhaps he could give back to Harry in some small, more tangible way. A sort of thank you for...for what, really? Making his life even more complicated? Surely committing murder was thanks enough for anything he could’ve possibly done for him.
Crossing the room once again, Severus sneered at the teens in the photos as he duplicated the ones he had of Lily. He hated the spark of affection in his chest motivating him to do this, the desire to simply provide for Harry in a different way than the others around him. Perhaps he could understand a little of what Black felt for him.
Almost reverently, Severus tucked the newly created images in an envelope for Harry, jotting down a quick message and adding that too.
“You may find these interesting. SS”
Nothing more than that. Even drunk, he couldn’t stand to make himself too vulnerable. Good deeds done for the day and head pleasantly fuzzy, Severus kicked off his shoes and crawled into bed, still fully clothed.
Harry was still grinning at him from the bookshelf, and it felt a little like a promise.
annaxmalina
romaincrisis
dededos
janainaart
theartofmadeline
areudirty
yousharknotpass
pixelskylines
gummygunk