Hey there folks, guess who’s active again lol. So I’m participating in the Drarryland game over in the Drarry/Harry Potter fandom. It’s super fun and it’s just getting started, I super recommend it! As a brief preface, we are given prompts based on a gameboard (similar to Candy Land) and it’s our job to fill them out using art, writing, or both. I decided to try my hand at moodboard for the first time thanks to this event! I’m House Shadowrose, my lovely datemate @ibelieveinahappilyeverafter was my Beta and is house Dragonwick.
Prompt: The comings and goings of Drarry during 8th year from the point of view of the Fat Lady or other portraits at Hogwarts. Minimum: 102 words - Maximum: 1002 words.
Read on AO3, FFN, or below cut.
It had been a shock, to say the least, to be woken up in the middle of the night. Not by one of her students deciding on a late night trip, nor by a professor come to tell her of terrible news. She was roused by a skinny Slytherin, the boy staring up at her with wide eyes and looking as though his shoulders were shaking. To be frank, he looked like death itself. "Password," she asked him with none of the usual fuss, more than a little interested in this turn of events.
He started, watching her. When he spoke, it was with a slight stutter, and hesitation. "T- Tandem… libertatem?"
They all asked her afterwards if she knew about the goings ons between them. Of course she knew. She was a portrait, they whispered everything to each other. She knew who he was, and she knew why he was giving her the password. Still, it was the correct password, and she was not ruled against allowing other students to enter, so she opened the door for him at approximately one in the morning.
In the morning, she watched them both walk out far earlier than she'd ever seen him awake. Ah, but young love did make them do foolish things.
Of course she watched them whenever they came or went, she had no other true option. The portraits around her snickered and giggled, and she occasionally joined in on the gossiping. She thought it was sweet, at the very least. It was about time they got over all this foolish nonsense and called a truce.
It did come as a sad shock when he came to her at midnight, battered and bruised. His light hair was now limp and sticking to his forehead. He just barely choked out the password, though she couldn't be certain if it was the pain or the tears trying to hold him back. Without a word, she swung open, and as she closed the door, she just barely heard a gasp, then a hissed, "Draco!" He didn't come out until late afternoon the next day, but at least he looked much better for it. It appeared to her that he'd been healed for the most part, and it seemed he'd had a shower as well. He took his wand out as he left until she opened again and the other one stepped out, standing beside him. "I'm not letting you go alone." Some silent argument passed between the two of them before they both nodded and started on their way.
When they entered the Common Room together in daylight, she thought that the poor dears' hearts would thump right out of their chests! Her little one had his magic practically in a whirlwind out of control around him, and his dear one was red as a rose. The moment they had entered, she was cooing over how adorable they had been and how she'd seen this coming for just ages.
But then, it did come as a bit of a surprise to her when they left late into the night. Often it seemed they didn't leave until morning, but- "I really should go. I promised Pansy I'd be there after her date."
He brushed his hair back, seeming to be unable to step too far away from him for long. "You'll be okay getting back by yourself?"
Then he leaned forward and kissed his cheek! "I'll be fine. You don't always have to be a savior."
"I know," he said with a bright grin. "Go, before Pansy gets upset at you." He ruffled his hair, turning it into a complete mess from where it had looked so nice and combed.
"I'll see you in the morning."
He turned back to the portrait, still smiling up at her. "Tandem libertatem."
"Apparently so," she said as she allowed him in. That ought to stir up some scintillating gossip. And maybe it would bring them one step closer to really uniting this school.
Of course, nothing could be cured so easily. There were still many afternoons and evenings where he came to stand in front of her, looking worse for wear and on the edge of tears, but she never said anything, only letting him inside. The other portraits told her about the Hogwarts students that felt they'd been slighted when someone like him had been allowed back into the school. That just wasn't right.
And watching either of the two of them come up to her, half the time, they both seemed so drained and listless. Where had gone her two boys so full of energy she had worried they would bring Hogwarts crashing down around them? Some days were better than others, but some days they just muttered the password and passed through her so similarly to a Hogwarts ghost that it had her worried. She expressed her concerns to the Headmistress, of course, but without seeing any of the attacks personally, there was nothing she could do for either of them unless another student reported it, or a portrait that had seen it all reported it. It wasn't fair. The two of them both tried so hard.
She supposed, at the very least, that they had one another. That was better than no one, and the two seemed to support one another. That was more than others seemed to do. At least, after everything, they were willing to give one another a chance. If they could forgive one another, then maybe there was still hope for the rest of them all.
Summary: Wicked Witch is only the best gossip columnist in the Wizarding World, and she makes sure everyone knows it, too. Of course when word gets out that Harry Potter's snatched a new boy toy, who is she to deny herself when opportunity knocks?
Fic Prompt: Wicked Witch here, your one and only source into the scandalous lives of the Wizarding World elite. Who am I? That's one secret I'll never tell. You know you love me. Kiss kiss, Wicked Witch - Gossip columnist who writes about notable happenings in the lives of our favourite witches and wizards in either 1) The Daily Prophet -OR- 2) The Quibbler -OR- 3) Witch Weekly - Epistolary format - Minimum: 456 words - Maximum 856 words.
Art Prompt: Drarry + paparazzi photo
Rating: General
Tags: Gossip, Letters
Read on FFN, AO3, or below cut
Baddest Witches,
Wicked Witch, here! You’ll see that enclosed in this week’s copy, I managed to snag a very private interview with none other than Harry Potter! I know you’re all dying to know who his latest catch is. I know I am. So let’s get on with it!
✶✶✶
Wicked Witch here,
Mr. Potter, it is simply sensational to be given the opportunity to correspond with you. Of course, all of the girls want to know. Who is the lucky lad or lass? Who is it that’s managed to steal your heart, this week, among other things?
Kiss kiss, Wicked Witch
✶✶✶
W.W,
What do you mean this week? I haven’t dated in two years. And this person has asked me not to disclose his name, so all I can say is that he’s already a fairly well known public figure, having to do with his work. Among other things.
Harry Potter
✶✶✶
Wicked Witch here,
Of course, of course. Well, everyone wants to know how long this little fanciful courtship has been going on? How did the two of you meet? What sorts of common interests do you share? Is this someone you can see yourself settling down with, finally? It’s not just me, all the girls that’ll be reading want to know. You’re twenty-six, Auror Potter, that’s the right age for a nice young lady to be looking for someone that’s husband-material.
Kiss kiss, Wicked Witch
✶✶✶
WW,
Then I guess they’re gonna have to wait a bit longer, aren’t they? I don’t know anything about settling down, this relationship is still new. We’ve only been seeing each other for a month, and for now we’re taking it one day at a time, seeing where it goes from here. We actually met back at Hogwarts in my first year, so we’ve known each other a while. I never would have thought we had any common interests, but our work lines up a lot of the time, we both like the same kind of sports, and once I got past a couple of things, I realized that we’re both really alike in a lot of ways. I never would have expected this would be where I end up, but there it is. Do you have any other questions?
Harry Potter
✶✶✶
Wicked Witch here,
Thank you so much for the insightful information! This really does clear a few things up. Based on an anonymous tip from one of your work mates, you’ve been seen around the Ministry much more often on the arm of one Draco Malfoy. Can you confirm or deny that this is the case?
Kiss kiss, Wicked Witch
✶✶✶
WW,
He’s not This isn’t I’m not
Most Wicked Witch,
Harry Potter will not be taking anymore questions at this point in time. Please forward any and all mail to Hermione Granger.
Signed,
Secret Lover
✶✶✶
And there you have it, ladies! Now, I’m not saying it, but I think we all now have a pretty good idea of who this ‘Secret Lover’ is, don’t you? Until next time, darlings!
Summary: When Harry has a late night raid, he somehow always manages to make it back in time for breakfast. Which also coincidentally ends up being the same time Draco is eating breakfast in the cafeteria. Completely by accident, though.
Fic Prompt: One works day shift, the other works nights. They have breakfast (or dinner) in the morning. Pick either: 1) Established Relationship: someone does something different/orders something different, and the other notices -OR- 2) Not Established Relationship: they always cross paths and end up eating together. Minimum: 301 words - Maximum: 613 words.
Art Prompts: One works day shift, the other works nights. They have breakfast (or dinner) in the morning. Show us their meal together.
Rating: Teen+
Tags: Suggestive Strawberry Eating
Read on FFN, AO3, or below cut
“Another late night, Potter? Careful,” Draco said in a honeyed purr as Harry sat down for breakfast (dinner?) in the cafe, “Some will start to ponder if you’re nocturnal.”
Harry grumbled, “Shove it, Malfoy. I’ve been sent out on four raids in the last week.”
“After the New Risers, I assume?” He watched Draco pick up his spoon, the cream spilling softly into his tea. “Of course you’re not going to catch them, the way you lot are going about it. You’re being entirely too brash.”
Too brash? And how the hell was he so awake? It was too early for this bullshit. “Hurry it up with the explaining.”
Draco rolled his eyes, even as the corner of his lips lifted. “I’ve put out feelers among… old family friends,” he told Harry carefully. “Some of them aren’t quite the virtuous, law-abiding citizens the Ministry wants them to be, but since the Dark Lord, they’re much more careful. They’re better at hiding it. They only ever meet in public, when it might seem coincidental, to pass information.”
Harry shoved his glasses up and dragged his hands across his face. “How is this supposed to be helping me?”
“You’re an Auror. Set up a stakeout. I can give you a few common locations of where they often meet, and a couple names. There’s not much I can do without it all obviously pointing back to me.”
“Why are you even trying to help me, Malfoy? You’re a Cursebreaker. If you’re all about this, why didn’t you train?”
“Never had the field aptitude,” Draco hummed. He picked a strawberry from his plate and Harry followed the red fruit. He watched Draco take a bite, putting down the rest before raising his hand and starting to suck on his slender fingers, the strawberry coloring his lips a light red. “I’ll send it to your office, then, if you can handle it.”
Violently brought back to the present, Harry gave a nod as he numbly took a bite of toast. “Uh huh.” Draco’s eyes dragged over him once before he turned back to his own breakfast.
“And Weasley? I notice he’s most likely gotten less sleep than yourself.”
Harry sighed at that. “What with Hermione, I don’t blame him. If she’s suffering, everyone’s suffering. Rose is excited, at least. Well, half excited. She’s excited if it’s a girl, but she’s dreading if it’s a boy.”
Draco startled, “She’s pregnant again? I hadn’t realized. How long?”
“Only a month. She loves Rose, she does, I think she just hates the whole ‘being pregnant’ part it takes to get there.”
“I would, too.” He lifted his tea cup delicately, his pinkie underneath it as he took a sip. When he set it back down, he patted at his mouth with a handkerchief, not that it really looked like he’d needed it. He rose from his seat, setting the handkerchief down on his mostly-empty plate. “Enjoy the rest of your breakfast. Oh, and Potter?”
Harry stared at him, and his voice felt hollow, along with his chest. “Yeah?”
“Do get some sleep. You look worse than usual, which is a remarkable feat for you.” And just like that, he was turning and wandering further into the Ministry to start his plain, regular day job. How Harry envied the little bastard. But… loved to watch him go.
Originally posted on AO3 and FF.N under the same title and Animalium penname.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Draco/Harry
Summary: In the dark and musty recess of the Ministry, Draco and Harry serve their suspension. Harry had come to Draco's aid, that's what landed him here beside him, but he hadn't known the details of what Draco had done. Not until now. One shot for Drarryland 2019.
Story:
A shuffle of pages and a muttered profanity from across the desk illuminated Harry to Draco's frustrations. He looked up from his own paper, glancing at the blond through his eyelashes. Though several thoughts crossed his mind, he kept his mouth shut.
In the days following the attack, Draco had said nothing. His features had formed into a permanent line of displeasure. Of depression. Even in the dank, lower level of the Ministry in which they sat, Harry could see the same sorrow that had plagued him since. Draco now sat across from him, his filings forgotten as he slumped in his chair, squeezing his finger.
"Paper cut." He muttered in exasperation.
Harry stood in silence, bringing his Holly wand with him. He knelt in front of Draco, prying the hurt hand out of the grasp of the other one. He stared at the red cut, threatening to bleed, and whispered a simple healing charm. He didn't consider himself practiced in this area of magic, but he knew enough and at times like this he was grateful.
They both watched wordlessly as Draco's skin stitched itself back together, removing all evidence of the injury. When it was closed, Harry lifted his chin, staring into eyes the color of ash, of smoke that usually betrayed the fire that raged within him. Now, though, they had dimmed. The firelight that lit the basement office glistened off the wet surface of his eyes. Draco closed his lids, embarrassed perhaps by the emotion that swim within him. Still, Harry said nothing. Instead, he remained in his position on the hard wood, gripping Draco's hand.
"We should get back to work." He mumbled, attempting to pry his hand from Harry's.
"It can wait. Robards will live."
Draco's chest lifted in a scoff at the name of their supervisor. "He might, but I'm not sure he'll let me."
Harry didn't laugh, didn't move. They were both lucky they hadn't been fired, a threat that hadn't entirely passed.
A droplet escaped from the growing pool of tears, wetting Draco's eyelashes. "I'm trying to right my wrongs, to fix the choices I never should have made, but others can't see it the same way." The fingers of his left hand gave an instinctive twitch, reacting to the ugly brand that had been carved into his skin. The one Draco had been proud of only a few short years before. "They see us as deserters, that we changed sides to save our own skin." He was silent for a moment and when he spoke again his voice was just above a whisper. "Which I guess we are."
"Is that what he said?" Harry asked, referring to the man that had landed them here.
Draco gave a single jerk of his head, one Harry would have missed if he hadn't been watching so intently. "He's glad my father's dead. Wished he had been the one to kill the blood purist. The death eater."
Something told Harry the actual words had been laced with expletives. He remembered how the man had laughed, how Draco's face had flushed with anger, and how the man laughed even harder as a reaction, but that wasn't when Draco had withdrawn his wand, had cast the unforgivable.
"He was explicit in the things he wanted to do with my mother. He called her a…" Draco's voice cut off, unable to say anymore as his throat closed in frustration, in guilt, in every other emotion that had flooded him in the days that led to this moment.
Harry remembered hearing "Narcissa", how her name had floated to him. He'd only caught an odd word of the conversation, just enough to piece together that it wasn't a friendly interaction. Draco's wand had slid into his hand after that and the man had hit the cobbled street of Diagon Alley. All humor had washed from his face, replaced by that of agony as his body writhed from the spell. Harry had been the one to end it, to disarm Draco and take his wand. He had stunned the accuser, leaving passersby to deal with him as the two of them fled. That spell is what had landed him beside Draco in suspension, had landed them here.
Anger wasn't a strong enough word to describe Robards. His voice had been loud, abrasive. Every word crystal clear through the wooden door that separated the two of them as they were scolded separately. Harry hadn't known the specifics of what the citizen had said, not until now, only that Robards didn't regard Draco's actions as justified.
When it was Harry's turn, Robard's face had been beet red with fury, disappointment, as his jowls wobbled with his screams. He had scolded him for aiding Draco in the attack, threatened to fire them both. Harry had only sent the stunner to prevent the citizen from striking back and escalating the situation further, but he would have always come to Draco's aid. Harry knew he wouldn't have lashed out without a justifiable cause. He had been there once upon a time, had tried to cast a cruciatus after Bellatrix had taunted him. Even though he knew what Draco had done wasn't right, he knew where the desire to hurt, to make the words stop had come from.
He stood then, pulling his hand from Draco's whose had now gone limp. Harry brushed Draco's forehead with a gentle kiss before placing another on his lips. "I would have done the same."
Draco opened his eyes then, looking at Harry with surprised relief. Harry realized that it had been more than the insults, his actions, that had plagued Draco, but how he thought Harry would react too.
Title: Growing
Author: primavera-cerezos
Rating: G
Word Count: 473
Prompt: After his fortieth birthday, Harry decides to grow a beard. -OR- After his fortieth birthday, Draco decides to grow a beard. Maximum word count 498.
Summary: Draco Malfoy is always clean-shaven.
Read on ao3 or below the cut!
When Draco Malfoy was eighteen years old, he spent five weeks willing his facial hair to grow. Finally stripped of expectations as the sole Malfoy heir, Draco decided he would forgo grooming himself and see what happened.
He had no money to spend on the expensive tinctures and salves he would have otherwise used to encourage his budding beard, but ultimately decided it was better off that way. He would do it au natural, as it were. He would use only his wild, teenage masculinity in the endeavor.
Every morning, Draco woke up and checked the mirror. At first, he was trepidatious, unsure of what his facial hair would look like.
After two weeks, he was desperately hopeful, massaging the bald patches on his cheeks, sure that he felt some whiskers just about to bloom.
Once a month had passed, Draco felt some a seed of self-loathing take root in his chest. He could no longer bear to examine the empty follicles on his cheeks for signs of life.
Thirty-six days after his last shave, Draco slashed off the awkward stubble. He wasn’t gentle, and three tiny cuts appeared along his jaw. He told himself the tears in his eyes were from the stinging pain.
For the next twenty-two years, Draco shaved every morning and sometimes in the afternoon, three times on the day he married Harry. He is always clean-shaven.
On Draco’s fortieth birthday, Pansy pops through the floo and insists on side-alonging him to a ridiculously upscale French restaurant, where they drink wine and stuff themselves on tarte tatin.
Pansy takes Draco back to just outside his front door, which he finds odd. He opens the door to find Harry, smiling lovingly, in front of a crowd of thirty-odd of their friends.
“Surprise,” Harry says. “Happy birthday.”
Draco’s first reaction is to drag his fingertips across the stubble on his chin. “I-- I haven’t shaved.”
“You look wonderful, but it’s okay if you want to nip upstairs.”
Draco, emboldened somewhat by the Sauvignon blanc sloshing around his belly, shakes his head. “Thank you,” he whispers. Draco presses one chaste kiss to his husband’s lips and takes the offered champagne flute from Harry’s hand.
When Draco Malfoy is forty years and one day old, he skips his morning shave for the first time in two decades. He steals Harry’s beard oil - he loves the smell of it, all spice and musk - until Harry swats his hand away from the pot.
“Buy your own,” Harry says, and Draco does.
After three weeks, his favorite pastime has become running his fingers along the now-soft stubble adorning his cheeks. His whiskers catch on Harry’s when they kiss. Lily laughs when Draco rubs his chin on her little cheek.
For the first time since Draco can remember, he smiles when he sees his reflection.
Title: Not Like This
Author: primavera-cerezos
Rating: M (barely)
Word Count: 878
Prompt: Potions E: “Never interrupt your enemy when he is making a mistake.” - Napolean. Drarry + enemies as lovers. Minimum 403 - Maximum 873.
Summary: During Auror training, Harry lets Malfoy make a mistake.
Read on ao3 or below the cut!
Harry can hear the floorboards creak under his boots. He flicks his hand, thinking, “Silencio,” and sees Malfoy against a wall, wand drawn. They’re both sweating from dodging curses in the last simulation, where the air had sparked and incantations were bellowed. This place seems too quiet, in comparison. The only light filters in between the boards over the windows.
They’re to find the bedroom containing the safe, extract whatever’s inside, and get out. Of course, it’s never that simple in these simulations. Robards designs them after actual missions, complete with all sorts of nasty surprises.
Malfoy starts up the stairs. Harry follows, walking backward and keeping his eyes on the doorways below. Everything in this place is so still; it makes Harry’s skin crawl.
They reach the second floor and creep along the narrow hallway. The three doors are closed. Almost in unison, Harry and Malfoy silently light the tips of their wands. Harry casts an homenum revelio. No shapes appear behind the doors. Malfoy’s brows furrow. He gestures toward one of the doors and points at himself. Harry nods and waves toward another.
Harry’s door opens with a quiet click as he hears Malfoy whisper, “Alohomora.” He smirks; Malfoy hasn’t mastered wordless magic, but Harry can cast without words or wand. It’s been the subject of many arguments between them and it’s sure it will come up after this session. Harry’s just planning how to emphasize the importance of silent spells when a shadow flickers in his peripheral.
Immediately, Harry’s focuses his attention on the movement. Nothing is shifting now, but the shadow was on the far wall. He thinks, “Finite incantatum,” and a door appears, barely tall enough to walk through. Harry feels his heart speed up. It must lead to the other bedroom -- there must have been someone in this room when he walked in. And he was distracted, thinking of Malfoy’s stupid inability to cast wordless. The thought makes Harry seethe. He buries the anger as he walks into the hallway.
Malfoy stands with his wand raised to the last bedroom door.
Harry thinks about stopping Malfoy. He knows there’s someone -- or something -- in the room. He knows it’s a trap. But part of him, a nasty piece still stuck on his hatred of Malfoy, wants to see Malfoy fail. So Harry nods, and Malfoy spits in his annoying whisper, “Alohomora.”
The explosion is instantaneous. Harry is blown backward as the walls dissolve into the Auror training room. Malfoy is on his back a few meters from where he had been standing, a deep cut on his cheek.
Robards appears through the door. “Well, the explosion destroyed the safe, which had a child inside, so I think it’s fair to say you’ve failed that simulation.”
They’re both silent.
“Potter, you saw the door, yeah?”
Harry steels himself and says, “Yes, sir.”
“And the shadow?”
He only hesitates for a second. “Yes, sir.”
“And you didn’t tell your partner it went into the last room?”
Harry tries to think of an excuse. “I didn’t have time to--to explain, sir.”
But now Malfoy’s looking at him. “You knew there was a trap?”
“No! I just saw--”
“You knew there was a trap and you didn’t stop me?”
“I just told you--”
Robards clears his throat. “I’m done with this for today. Be back here tomorrow at eight. You’ll do two extra sims to make up for this mess.” He strides from the room and Harry wishes he would stay.
As soon as the door shuts, Malfoy is on him, his fingers bunched in Harry’s robes. “You fucking idiot. In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re partners, which means we both failed that sim!”
Harry shoves his hands against Malfoy’s shoulders but Malfoy doesn’t move. “I don’t owe you anything.”
Malfoy grabs Harry’s wrists and slams him against the wall. “You’re such a prick, Potter.”
Harry doesn’t know what to say. Not because Malfoy’s words were insightful, but because he’s acutely aware that he can feel Malfoy’s chest rising and falling against his own, each of Malfoy’s heavy breaths blowing across his own mouth. He can see the cut on Malfoy’s face stopped bleeding. And he sees it when Malfoy’s eyes flick to his mouth.
Harry doesn’t give himself time to think. He closes the remaining inch between them, slamming his lips into Malfoy’s. They’re kissing, but it feels more like fighting than any kiss Harry’s ever had. Malfoy bites his lip and Harry growls. He sucks Malfoy’s tongue into his mouth and Malfoy lets their arms drop with a groan. Malfoy presses his hips to Harry’s. Harry gasps and they’re moving together, Malfoy’s fingers in Harry’s hair and Harry’s hands sliding up Malfoy’s shirt. He drags his fingernails roughly down Malfoy’s back. Malfoy answers by sucking hard on Harry’s neck and Harry can’t help the moan that pours from him. He slips a hand into the back of Malfoy’s trousers, grinding their hips together. Their mouths collide again, hot and sweet, then Malfoy backs away like he’s been burned.
Harry’s hand slips from Malfoy’s skin and he meets the grey eyes. “What’s wrong?”
Malfoy is still panting as he backs toward the exit. He shakes his head. “Not like this.”
Fic Prompt: Harry and Draco. separately, get the same tattoo from the same tattoo artist. A few of their mutual friends notice and get the wrong idea. Tattoo + Matchmaking AU - At least one section must be a POV other than Harry or Draco - Minimum: 385 words - Maximum 803.
Final Word Count: 807
Art Prompt: Harry and Draco. separately, get the same tattoo from the same tattoo artist. A few of their mutual friends notice and get the wrong idea. Show the tattoo, and at least one panel depicting a character other than Draco or Harry.
Read on AO3, FFN, or below cut
Harry couldn't help staring at her arms. He'd only seen something like that on Tonks or on the people in the streets when he was little that his relatives liked to call good-for-nothing hoodlums. Luna looked away from Ginny to look at him. "Are you quite alright, Harry? You've been staring at me for an awful long while now," she commented.
Feeling himself flush, Harry cleared his throat. "Sorry, Luna, I just… I never really see people with tattoos."
Luna looked down at her tattooed arms. "Oh, these? I suppose you wouldn't. The woman I see for them works out of Knockturn, though she does wonderful work. I think you'd like her in particular, Harry. She specializes in magical inkings." To demonstrate, Luna twisted her arm. A few of the flowers that had been staying still on her arm like tattoos were supposed to were now ruffling, petals falling off them and further down her arm before they faded completely.
"Woah," he said quietly.
Ginny grinned at Luna's side. "Cool, aren't they? I told her that for my eighteenth she and I are gonna go and-"
"Ginny! You're not gonna go and get a tattoo!"
"Just try and stop me, Ron!"
Harry couldn't help but to roll his eyes. A tattoo, huh…
✶✶✶
Draco thought maybe it was time for a change. He hated staring down at his arm some days, trying to scratch the mark away for nothing, while spending other days with bandage wrapped around his arm because he didn't even want there to be a chance for himself, or anyone else, to catch a glimpse of it. It was when Luna sat down to tea with him that he finally asked her. "Luna, dear… Where did you have those done?" he asked, gesturing down to her tattoos that she wore like trophies wrapped intricately up and down her arms.
Luna looked down at herself. "These? This lovely woman in Knockturn. I'll have to give you her address. Funny, you're the second person in the past week to ask me the same question. You plan on having any done yourself?"
He watched her, finally nodding. "Yes, I think I am. It's time for a change, don't you think?"
"I think the same. Do you know what you're going to get, then?"
Thinking it over, Draco looked down at himself. "I don't."
"Then I suppose you'll find out when you're there. I think they'll suit you, though. It would certainly help to relieve yourself of that mask you wear, don't you think?"
Draco couldn't even be surprised, only giving her a smile and a chuckle. "I suppose so."
✶✶✶
When Solstice heard the chimes, she grinned and grabbed out the binder. No appointments, so it was a cold drop-in. She hadn't expected to turn around and see Draco Malfoy, of course. Oh, yeah, she knew who he was. The Prophet loved to drum up a story. "Good ta see ya, love, come on in, make yerself at home. What can I do fer you?"
"Well, I- I'm sorry, you're the artist?"
She gave a light laugh. "Artist, I wouldn't call it anythin' so fancy, now. Looking for a tattoo? I've got a whole folder a designs I already made up, but if you need we can make our own."
He frowned at her when he walked closer to the counter. "I was hoping for a compass." Uppity git, wasn't he?
"Funny, I just had another one in her a day or two ago askin' for the same thing. Page thirty-seven. A compass rose? Pretty popular." That was a little strange. One of her last clients, another drop-in had asked for the same thing.
He started to look through the pictures. "It's to remind myself I have one."
Now Solstice had to stare. "You got a boyfriend, then?"
He started like nothing else, watching her. "What on Earth- I beg your pardon-"
"No offense meant, I just had another guy in here a couple days ago. Said the same thing, he did. Had that same look in his eye, too."
He seemed to relax, watching her but still glancing down at the book. "Did you now?"
"Aye, I did. Harry Potter." That had him looking at her like she grew another head. "You alright, there?"
"I- Pardon, I thought I heard you say Harry Potter."
"You did." She leaned over and pointed with one finger. "He got that one. Though gotta say, when he stepped in, looked like he saw a ghost." She watched Malfoy look at her hair, then her face, then her jacket.
"No idea why," he muttered.
"Well, come on, then, let's sit you down and get started."
As she nudged him along, his eyes widened. "But I didn't tell you what I wanted."
"You didn't need to, mate. Come on. You'll love it."
Lol, hey yall, know I’ve been hella inactive on here, but I guess I’ll be more active in the next couple months. Gonna participate in Drarryland. If you don’t know about it, check out @gameofdrarry. My bae and I are both participating. I’m in House Shadowrose. She’s/they’re in House Dragonwick. Hope to see ya.
