[ boys & broomsticks. âË⥠for the @drarrymicrofic november prompt: bolt | title from the hand by annabelle dinda (which iâve been listening to on repeat) ]
drarry | word count: 338 | rating: t
Harry knocks on the door of the conference room, thoughts collected, file a subtle shield, grounding.
âAlright, good news,â he says, stepping inside. âYouâve passed Tier I testing. It meets all of the baseline regulations.â
Dracoâs voice (in spite of its lilting self-assurance) has taken on a professional slant, an attempt at objectivity that belies itself.
Harry taps his biro against the clipboard, gaze trailing over the documentationâ the careful typeset and photocopied marginal notes, scrawled in neat, familiar script.
âSurprisingly swift.â
âSurprisingly?â Draco echoes, brow arch.
He canât help the laugh that slips at that.
âActually, assuming full approval, itâll be the fastest daily use model on market.â
Dracoâs answering smile isnât one Harryâs seen before: Small. Proud. (Togetherâ small & proud.)
Harry flips through the spec sheet, reviewing the notes again. His brows draw down at a single line, slid into a list of bullet points without fanfare.
âYes.â The air shifts as he takes in Harryâs expression, the careful concentration. âSomething wrong? If you view Appendix Fââ
Harry waves a hand, dismissive, half-apologetic.
âNo, nothing wrong. Itâs just not a standard feature.â
Draco hums. âItâs warranted.â
âSure,â Harry murmurs, absent, trying to recall off-hand any existing models with similar charms, anything within the standing regulations that might run counter. He leafs through the pages of the manual, the appendices bowing open.
âYouâve done testing for it?â
He spares an upward glance, eyes flicking over the frames of his glasses. Then falters.
Dracoâs throat has gone pink, his lower lip dropping around a loose breath.
Suddenly, the feel of heatâ roar and cacophony, sweltering, sweat-slick down spines, knees bracketing thighs and fingers wrenching into robesâ ash, and smoke as heavy as storm clouds, air dry as bone, burning.
A blink. Thereâ & gone.
Dracoâs gaze cools, effortful, the flush at his collar forced into easing, ebbing.
Approval: Firebolt Fiend (D. Malfoy)
MoM Broom Regulatory Control Board - hjp. 18/10/2006