#150 words

[dodgerkedavra]

surprise party

for the @drarrymicrofic prompt history

Six months, the paper crane note reads in January. You’re officially on notice.

“Three months,” Draco mentions at the end of April. “I’ve sent out invitations.”

“Eight weeks exactly,” says Draco on his birthday, his party hat at a tipsy tilt. “Don’t forget.”

“Six days,” he murmurs when Ron and Hermione show up, Levitating loads of parcels. “Can you wait that long?”

“Two hours,” Draco announces. Their cottage is a common room, all grown up.

“Happy birthday, mon éclair,” Draco whispers. Everyone Harry loves is awake before him, voices rising from the ground floor. “Pretend to be surprised!”

That’s Harry’s favourite bit: people hiding behind furniture, shushing each other. Harry’s great at pretending, mostly because he’s not.

“Three hundred and sixty-five days,” Draco yawns the next morning. “Accounting for the leap year.”

“You sure?” Harry smiles into his pillow, still riding a sugar high.

Draco kisses his cheek. “Absolutely.”

[orolin-writes]

bolt — @drarrymicrofic (150 words)

Draco’s a bolt from the blue, tumbling out of thin air and landing in a heap at their feet. He groans his way around a mouthful of gravel, sporting a stone-sharp graze to the temple.

“Merlin, Malfoy. Is that—is that you?”

The voice is achingly familiar, one that’s been bound to him, til death do us part, for three years now. Or will be, in the not too distant future. Draco heaves himself upright, head spinning, brushing grit from his face.

A decade is a long way to fall.

There’s a distance between the bodies of the two wizards blinking down at him. One of uncertainty, a state of limbo, betrayed by the way his past self moves that infinitesimal bit closer to Harry.

“Oh,” Draco says, spots dancing across his vision. “You’re not even together yet.”

There’s a splutter, a disbelieving scoff, and the ground rushes up to meet him.

[roysreader]

Kendall drabble

This turned into a drabble and a half:

“I don’t know who I am anymore,” says Shiv blankly, staring at the baby in her brother’s arms. “I’m not a mother. My political career is over, and I can’t be CEO. I’m just someone’s wife, and he doesn’t even like me. Dad’s gone, and you hate me, so…”

“I don’t hate you.” Kendall looks up from his niece to his sister. “I never really hated you, whatever I said.”

“You said it yourself. I took everything away from you. I wanted the company for three months, and you wanted it your whole life.”

He can’t deny it. “I was hurt, Shiv. But I still love you, always.”

She doesn’t look at him. She reaches out to touch the baby’s head instead. Kendall links his fingers with hers, like he did on the day of Con’s wedding. Baby Kendall looks between them with bright blue eyes that match their father’s.

[authorangelita]

Happy Friday!

More Matty fic today:

Hardass Matty the Hun would tell him to buck up and get back to work, but that felt too harsh.  She settled for teasing him.  "I think that's the pain meds talking."

[rockingrobin69]

To put it simply,

It’s not that I won’t survive without you (although who will relocate the spiders if you’re gone) it’s not that you’re my entire life (although you’re in almost all of my dreams, every little wish I make for myself) it’s not that your love’s dramatically changed me (although your kindness allows me to be free) it’s not that I was made for you (although I fit so perfectly in your arms) it’s not that we’re soulmates (although you truly are my friend) it’s not that we always agree (although it’s a privilege to learn the world through your eyes) it’s not that you completely satisfy me (although. Baby.) it’s not that you know me better than anyone (although you’ve welcomed and kissed every new iteration) it’s not that you make me feel good (and safe and appreciated and relieved)

It's that—darling, it’s you, and it’s me. Apparently that’s enough. 

[smoothoperatorleclerc]

Dean walked into the kitchen, surprised to see Cas holding a cupcake with a flickering candle; bright flame reflecting warmth in Cas’ eyes. 

“Make a wish,” Cas said, offering him the cupcake. 

Carefully, Dean took it and linked their fingers together. But he couldn't think of a single special occasion to warrant the treat. It wasn't their anniversary or his birthday. Just a regular Tuesday. "What's the reason?" Dean asked, smiling as he blew out the candle. 

Cas' squeezed his hand, murmuring, "No reason, just wanted to see you smile." 

Dean smiled even brighter, heart aching in his chest as he softly kissed his husband. "You're already my wish come true," Dean said against Cas' lips, sappy and saccharine sweet like the cupcake in his hand, but Cas beamed into the kiss; arms settling around Dean's waist. The cupcake could wait, especially when Cas' kisses were already a sweet treat.

[xanthippe74]

Drarry microfic: Love letter

“You wrote Aidan Lynch a bloody love letter!” Harry gasped, doubled over with laughter on the bedroom floor.

Draco snatched the parchment back and returned it to the box sitting beside him on the duvet.

“No, I wrote him a fan letter after he didn’t catch the Snitch at the World Cup, to console him. You know, one Seeker to another.”

Still grinning, Harry rested his chin on Draco’s knee. “Then why did he write back and say he was flattered by your offer?”

“I wasn’t propositioning him! I was fourteen, for pity’s sake,” Draco spluttered. “I was just asking him—you know what, never mind. I regret showing it to you. Could you finish packing those clothes, please?”

“Any other love letters that I should know about, before we move in together?”

Draco ran his fingers through Harry’s dark curls. “Just the ones a certain daft Gryffindor sent me.”

Written for the @drarrymicrofic prompt, "love letter."

[skeptiquewrites]

Microfic: Guide Me Home

for @drarrymicrofic prompt 'haunt me in the night' by holychild

I see the worry in every line of his face through the haze of the spell shimmering on the walls of this curse dimension. I'm trapped.

I ask, "Or I'll turn into a pillar of salt?" I laugh out of nerves. Draco doesn't find it funny.

"Like Eurydice," he says. "And I don't know what would happen."

If it were me, I couldn't be trusted not to turn back. It's a long walk out of a curse. Shadows loom. I hear my own voice call his name, strong and sure. I stumble and fall. I pick myself up.

Draco doesn't look back when we arrive home. He kneels on the floor, as the curse collapses on itself like a dying star. He keeps his head bowed. I run up and throw my arms around him. He's shaking, trembling from head to toe. We stay like that.

"Thank you," I whisper.