#margot writes

[margotgrissom]

So, I actually wrote AND finished a thing.

Title: When you move, I'm moved

Pairing: Dana Evans/Michael Robinavitch (The Pitt)

Word count: 1,289

Summary:

“So, what’ll it take to convince you to come back to work?” “A raise, a few bottles of that rosè you brought to dinner last time, and multiple orgasms.”

Thanks to @hatughsea for the beta!

[lucas-koh]

Enemies to Lovers 2 (so on brand for me)

So this was a one shot I started for the enemies to lovers prompt comp back in 2021🤣 but I do still plan to finish it one day! I think it’s kinda fun, it’s just never been a priority for me.

Here’s a snippet:

“At least I spend my money on shoes rather than blowing it all on extravagant nights out.”

“Oh, please. You’re just bitter that you never get an invite.”

They’re squaring up, very close.

“I wouldn’t want to spend time at anything you’ve organised.”

“Why? Too classy for you?”

“More like full of assholes.”

“Boring fuckboy.”

“Pompous try hard.”

[dontthrowsticksatme]

WIP acrostic tag game:

Heart

Yaay thank you for tagging me @tripably ! I love a good excuse to dust off my wips, and i loved reading your snippets! They're so on-brand 👌🥰

I have plenty of WIPs, so I tried to pick several. Hopefully the contexts are clear enough 😬

H — (mulan au)

Harry would act so normal about this situation. So civilized and professional, like a good captain would. Tonight, all that mattered was that the soldier who was assigned to be his sleeping-buddy was warm. Harry was doing his job. Keeping his soldier warm. A soldier. Not his.

E — (snockhart)

Exasperated, Severus sat back. ‘Gilderoy, for once, use those baby blues life gifted you, and tell me: do I look like the kind of man who owns swimming trunks?’

A — (diver harry, museum archeologist draco)

As Harry struggled to take the last book off the shelves, he almost missed the sneeze coming from one of the tables around the corner. Malfoy’s poncy sneeze. Harry turned on his heel, not looking forward to getting caught getting the exact books Malfoy had read only days before.

R — (accidental bond)

‘Right. So... three women you might fancy if forced versus… twenty-five men.’ ‘Yeah…’ Harry scratched his eyebrow to hide his flush. ‘What d’you think it means?’

T — (tarot fic)

‘The Six of swords. Means an upcoming transition or a change of mind. It often pops up when someone needs to –’ as Draco spoke, his gaze flicked to the first card, thinking ‘– bury the past…’ ‘It’s about us.’ Draco jerked up. Potter was leaning on his crossed arms and pondering the cards with a deep frown. ‘We’re from each other’s past.’ He flicked his impossibly green eyes up. ‘What’s the third?’ Taking a breath, Draco turned the third card around. Harry choked on a laugh. He coughed and raked both hands through his hair. ‘Never mind.’ Before them lay the Lovers card.

I'm tagging @starquestingfordrarry @parseisflat @itsphantasmagoria @panthemanda and @tessacrowley if you want to and haven't gotten tagged for this twelve times already lol

Instructions: find a snippet from one of your works in progress that starts with each of the letters in the given word (in this case the word is "heart").

[dontthrowsticksatme]

Realised I never posted this microfic, written for the (old) @drarrymicrofic prompt "Wings".

Harry steps into the clearing of the forest.

Death eaters shout, laugh, taunt him, but as the killing curse forms on Voldemort's lips, shadows cast on the ground show large shapes unfolding behind Harry's back.

'No,' says Draco Malfoy.

A firm wall of feathers wraps around Harry. Shielding him.

[dontthrowsticksatme]

I went to the ballet, so Drarry also went to the ballet. A confusing time was had.

Ballet

(760 words)

‘It is very unimpressive,’ said Draco, during the break, in a dissappointed and confused way, and Harry could only stare at him in surprise. He’d thought it had been plenty impressive. Draco shrugged. ‘They’re hardly floating at all. You can hear them land on the floor, stomping around on the stage.’

‘Floating?’ Harry asked, growing a tiny hint of suspicion. ‘You mean the jumps they do?’

‘They’re not supposed to touch the floor so much,’ Draco explained. ‘And did you see them tremble? Like they’re nervous or something. It’s embarassing.’

Trying to keep an open-mind, Harry asked, ‘Are you comparing the Muggle ballet to a magical ballet?’

[read more]

Now, Draco stared at Harry in surprise, blinking fast. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Muggles don’t know how to float.’ Harry tried not to sound like he was talking to a toddler. ‘Muggles need to touch the floor in between leaps, because they don’t have magic to defy gravity with.’

Draco frowned. ‘No, I know that, but – I mean…’ His cheeks turned pink, as he tried to think his way out of this puzzle. ‘No, but –’ He snorted derisively. ‘Harry, come on. They obviously use something. No one can leap like that without help of anything. They must have a substitute for floating. I assume something electival.’

Harry shook his head. ‘It’s jumping. It’s all muscles and training. Nothing electrical. It’s also why they’re shaking: it’s not nerves, it’s their muscles working so hard to keep their balance.’

Draco’s nose scrunched up for a second as he stared into space. Each time it seemed he’d figured it out, he scrunched it up again, as if to say something. ‘But how... How do they stay on their toes then?’ Harry wasn’t sure if the question was aimed at him or if Draco was thinking out loud. ‘Is it… ropes?’

‘It’s practice,’ Harry repeated.

Draco snorted. ‘No. Harry, come on. I’m not that dim. Tell me: how do they stay on their toes? It’s not possible to do that with their other leg up in the air. How could that be possible without any help?’

‘Well, they have those shoes,’ Harry mused, and he explained what he knew about pointe shoes.

Draco’s face contorted in horror. ‘No, but – their feet… It can’t be natural.’

‘Probably not,’ Harry admitted.

For a while, Draco was quiet, staring into space, thinking it over. Then he asked. ‘I just realised, they can’t do the duplication spell either, can they? How do they make it look like there’s so many of them?’

Harry didn’t understand. He may have looked quite dumb trying to.

‘Is it… mirrors?’ Draco pondered.

‘So many of them?’ Harry mumbled. ‘Draco, there are so many of them. They’re not… fake or anything.’

Draco’s jaw dropped. ‘They’re not all the same people?’

Harry pulled a weird face in incomprehension. ‘Huh? What do you mean? How does it work in magical ballet?’

‘Well, there’s – there’s the two soloists, and two or four demi-soloists. And then they duplicate the demi-soloists, so it looks like they have a line of people doing the same thing. That’s how they all look so symmetrical and uniform, and how they’re so in sync. They’re the same person.’ With a confident nod, Draco convinced Harry, ‘It must be mirrors.’

‘I don’t think so.’ Harry leafed through his program booklet to show Draco. ‘There’s a cast in here. It’s a lot of names, see?’

‘“Corps de ballet,”’ Draco muttered, reading the list. ‘That means “body of the ballet”. I don’t know what that… what that is. Maybe they mean they’re backstage hands.’

Harry pointed out where in the booklet the backstage hands were credited.

Draco took the booklet from him to inspect it. ‘This is very confusing,’ he said. ‘They should make it clear what those terms mean. “Coryphées…” That means leader in French. They must be the people in charge. Maybe they lead the practice sessions and make sure everything runs in time.’

‘Then why aren’t they listed in the directional staff section? Why are they listed in the dancers section?’

Frustrated, Draco pushed the booklet back into Harry’s hands. ‘Fuck if I know, Potter. They’re not different people though. They’re fooling you if you think so.’

Harry kept quiet.

During the second half of the show, Draco leaned into Harry. ‘Harry, I think they’re different people.’

‘Really?’ Harry asked, innocently.

‘Look, their faces are all different. And that one is blond. I can’t find the one they duplicated.’

‘There’s also one who’s black.’

Draco nodded like he’d solved the mystery single-handedly. ‘Ingenious,’ he whispered, and Harry couldn’t help but smile.

[dontthrowsticksatme]

I was thinking what if draco came along with the horcrux hunting (bc he's clever and wants to make amends and was as much in danger as the trio) and then drarry happened (bc obviously it would).

So when Harry walks out into the forest, Draco follows and when he sees what Harry's doing, he runs out to save him.

Voldemort finds it all hysterical and tries to kill Draco, partly because he's disrupting things, partly to hurt harry and the malfoys. But then Harry leaps in front of Draco, sacrificing himself.

After that Voldemort goes and tries to kill Draco again anyway, and the same thing happened as when Harry was little: Voldemort gets killed on the spot, because of the power of love's protection etcetera.

Harry returns from the dead, the same way as in canon, and that ties it all up: all the horcruxes are defeated. (Maybe the snake needs to be beheaded, but that's done in a jiffy, with all the death eaters fleeing the scene)

From then on, both harry and draco have a lightning scar: harry on his head and draco on his heart.

[dontthrowsticksatme]

I felt like sharing something from a WIP, bc i randomly remembered it and it made me laugh.

For context: Harry, Ron and Draco are having a drink. It's from Harry's pov and he hasn't realised yet how badly he's pining.

The cap popped through the air. With a little smirk, Draco put the bottle to his lips.

There was something about Malfoy’s face that was perpetually snobbish. Even the mundane act of taking a swig from a bottle emitted casual condescension. It might have had to do with the way the corners of his mouth pointed down, the proud tilt of his chin, or the way his eyelids batted down. He looked grumpy and smug and bored.

He truly was the biggest ponce in existence.

From the way he lowered the bottle from his mouth, it looked like he was making out with it, practically kissing the top with his soft, faint-pink lips. A drop of butterbeer rolled down the length, and Draco – so focussed on his stupid drink he even noticed it – slightly tipped the bottle, brought it to his lips and slowly kissed the drop away –

‘Harry.’

Harry jumped almost out of his skin. Whirling around to Ron, he felt his face heat up. ‘Huh? What? Yeah.’

Ron was scowling over the top of his head at Draco, but Harry didn’t dare turn around anymore. ‘I’m warning you,’ Ron grumbled.

Harry didn’t have to look at Draco to hear the glee in his voice when he replied, ‘What did I do?’

[dontthrowsticksatme]

For the @drarrymicrofic prompt: Break the fourth wall

Scorpius's dad was a great storyteller. His favourite stories were about a bold young boy and his two best friends having spectacular adventures at Hogwarts.

One day, the doorbell rang and Scorpius ran to get it, and before him were a man with a lightning bolt scar, a woman with bushy hair and a ginger man with lots of freckles. They looked exactly how he imagined them.