Dramione drabble prompt: Apollo
Sup folks!
I had no idea that the Dramione Last Drabble Writer Standing event was even a thing until a week or so ago, but I saw that they’ve been using Greek gods as prompts this time around and I love that! So, even though I’m not part of the event, I wanted to try rattling off some <500-word fics using its prompts.
Here’s my take on the first prompt -- hope you enjoy! Thanks to @gemgirl28 for being my beta and making sure I wasn’t about to chuck something out into the world that didn’t make any sense. 😅
Title: Prophecy
Prompt: Apollo
Rating: G
Words: 499
- - -
…Only then will surrender taste like triumph.
She kisses him, and every instance of wilful ignorance that’s held her back before now ceases to matter.
She kisses him, and his lips are ready, so ready for her. He opens to receive her, his body welcoming her press against him like he’s already lived it countless times over in his mind, like he’s spent years shaping the negative spaces of his embrace until she’s the only thing that could ever possibly fit there.
She kisses him, and, finally, everything makes sense.
- - -
…Only then will the impatient man find faith enough for stillness,
Will the held breath of distraction, of denial, of doubt finally find release…
“Honestly, this is completely ridiculous! I don’t understand what’s so special about this prophecy. We’ve been working on it on and off for years now. Why do you keep coming back to it?”
“It’s important.”
“You say that like you already know what it’s about.”
Draco just stands there, watching her like he’s waiting for something, barely recognisable as the querulous boy she used to know. It sets her off balance — patience is hardly one of his stronger suits, and it’s bizarre seeing him this…
Oh.
Understanding hits so hard it leaves her dizzy.
Still, he watches.
- - -
…Once acceptance colours chance as inevitability…
It’s late, but he’s looking at her with that smile that’s been wearing more and more familiarly on him recently. Somehow, she doesn’t feel all that tired.
“Just because it uses the word desire doesn’t mean it has to be romantic,” she muses. “It could be referring to a different kind of want. An impulse, a calling…”
“It could be. But it’s not. Look at the rest of it — held breath, release, faith, surrender… In my experience, that combination can only mean one thing.”
She laughs through her frown, leaning forwards to study him.
“Draco Malfoy, are you a secret romantic?”
His eyes dance across her face, and her breath catches in a way that she can’t make sense of.
“I suppose I am.”
- - -
…Once the slow-growing root of desire yields life above ground…
“Malfoy? Are you alright?”
“I—” He blinks and seems to come back to himself, his eyes cutting sharply away from her. “I’m fine. Just thinking. Unrelated. Don’t worry about it.”
He’s…confused? Rattled? His voice is rougher than usual. A flush skims across the rise of his cheekbones.
Something shifts in Hermione’s stomach, but she’s not sure what. She’s not sure she wants to know.
- - -
Once war is past,
Once, unknowing, the claim is made…
“This one.”
“That one? No.”
“Not that I don’t love the way you deny me, Granger, but do you actually have any reasoning to it this time or do you just enjoy making my life difficult?”
“Prophecies like that are too vague; they could apply to practically anything. It’s a waste of time trying to interpret them.”
“I don’t care. I want to do this one.”
“Why?”
“Don’t know. Just a feeling.”