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Absolutely laid low by writer's block at the moment. Wondering if I need the fic equivalent of a palate-cleanser of some kind (or, like, a razing of the tangled weeds of old ideas in order for new ficplants to flourish, or something). If anyone fancies sending me a prompt of some kind then the inspiration would be gratefully received!
Matter
Drabble Challenge ~ 394 words ~ Prompt: Chemistry
Potter has had me pinned against this wall for so long that the very stones are skin-warm at my back. The laces of his Quidditch breeches are trailing loose, and his jersey is a red and gold puddle at our feet, a casualty of my greed to have more of his skin, and closer.
The leather of his gauntlet adds a maddening friction as he begins another slow pass over the planes of my chest, through the gape of my shirt where he spelled the buttons right off in his haste to touch me. He has my tie wrapped twice around his other fist, green and silver winking taut over the leather. He grips it almost too tightly. He could hurt me, like this, so easily.
Again.
I know it, and he knows it. I can feel his awareness in the slight tremble of his grasp as he tugs harder, to bare my neck. The kisses he places there are softer than I'd like, barely a lap of the tongue as he chases the line of my impatient swallow.
He's murmuring my name, now, every syllable practically a pant as he leans and pushes into the lube-slick heat of my hand. The sounds are so loud and desperate here, I wonder if everyone in the Hall down the corridor can't hear us. I find I don't care.
"Malfoy. Why didn't we ever do this when we were actually at school here? It would have..." and he's groaning now. "It would have made sixth year a lot more fun."
And he kisses me, hungrily but with more tenderness than we would have allowed ourselves if we had ever fucked in an alcove back in 1997. I think he can feel me laugh, even as a smile softens the press of his mouth on mine, and then with one last twist of my hand he's letting himself come all over my school trousers.
I allow myself a moment to just hold onto him, lax and pliant against me in the half-light of a Hogwarts corridor. Then it's wands out and cleaning charms done, and we transfigure our uniforms back into the dress robes we'd worn for the Board of Hogwarts gala dinner.
"Thank Christ for magic," I say, and I wonder if I'll ever get tired of being the one who makes him smile like that.
The door to his room swings soundless behind him as he leaves. He's almost used to the muted glow of the fairy orbs now, and his feet are sure and steady as he picks his way down the corridor towards Malfoy's room. Before he can reach it, the door opens and Malfoy himself steps out. He's holding an empty water jug, and in his pale cotton pyjamas he looks incongruous and completely human and so very enticing against the uneven walls of the corridor. He's tired, though—Harry can read it in the tightness of his eyes and the faint purpling of shadow underneath. His heart suddenly, inconveniently, clenches with tenderness.
Malfoy's face brightens when he sees Harry, and he gestures with his jug. "Just filling this up! I have such a headache. I always forget how draining Faoin Talamh is for our magic."
He trails off, and Harry knows it's because of what he can see written in Harry's face. Harry knows he should be approaching this with caution—after all, he's had a few hours to get used to his realisation—but Malfoy is totally unaware of any shift in their relationship.
But Harry can't seem to stop himself—he's maddened with the breadth and heat of these feelings, absolute frantic with the need to let them show. Something about being below ground, maybe, but he's itching with a restless fervour, practically feral with it.
He's in front of Malfoy now, chest-to-chest in the gloaming, and he places his hands flat and forceful against Malfoy's front so that he can feel the jump of Malfoy's stomach muscles, the skitter of a shiver that passes through him when Harry firmly but, oh! so gently pushes him back against the wall.
Harry lowers his head ever so slightly, so that his words are captured by Malfoy's parted lips.
"You," he says. "You…you…you…" again and again, and with every iteration he kisses Malfoy's mouth, nothing more than a mothwing brush of lips in the half-dark, but it's almost too much for him, and he dips his head further so his face is pressed into the soapy-clean sweetness of Malfoy's throat.
Malfoy's hand, the one not still clutching the jug bewilderedly, comes up to move slow and soothing along the spar of Harry's spine. And then Harry presses his face a little tighter into the elegant tendon of Malfoy's throat, and he allows himself to taste—just the tip of his tongue following the desperate, sudden arch of Malfoy's neck. Malfoy swallows, and the sound is loud and shockingly erotic in the dead silence of the underground corridor. They pause, both holding themselves in check for a breathless moment, and then Malfoy is making an impatient flicker of wandless magic at the jug to send it spinning sideways onto the floor, and Harry is growling—actually growling—as he takes a fistful of Malfoy's nightshirt and pulls at it until the buttons pop and spill over his knuckles and, just like that, he's got an expanse of Malfoy's skin bared to his hands and mouth.
Harry's aware that he's already shaking with desire, cock hard and insistent against the press and roll of Malfoy's hips. Malfoy is whispering, desperate and incoherent—Potter, no, we agreed…yes…we can't…there, yes…you—though he's already sliding his hands up Harry's flanks with ferocious intent, and walking them both backwards towards who knows where.
They end up in the alcove, of course, the wire and silk crushed heedlessly beneath the shift and scrabble of their feet. Once they're pressed close enough that they can share each other's shudders, they grow less frantic. Harry can't stop kissing Malfoy, though. He tugs Malfoy's lower lip into his mouth, soothes it with a lap of the tongue, and chases it back until their mouths meet again in a groan that's more gasp than sound. Over and over he kisses Malfoy, until Malfoy's mouth is kiss-swollen and languid and curved into his most secret and sated smile.
It seems impossible, as Harry stands with one hand buried in Malfoy's hair and the other down his pyjama trousers, that they had agreed to stay away from each other for this trip. It seems laughable, as Malfoy slides to his knees and mouths at the wet spot on Harry's trousers, that they could maintain any professional distance from each other. It seems inevitable, as Harry kisses the taste of himself out of Malfoy's mouth, that they would end up skin to skin, taking each other apart, and gently putting each other back together.
Underfoot, the ruin of the silk flowers shifts in a light breeze, but they're both too preoccupied to wonder how the wind could get in while they're forty fathoms underground.
Read the rest on AO3
(Photo credit Mikael Kristenson on Unsplash)
Fic Claim
Drarry ~ 23.7k ~ M ~ Career Fic
Title: Offer Up Our Hearts
Author: @tackytigerfic (meee)
Content: Curse-Breaker Harry, Diplomat Draco, Career Fic, Magically Powerful Harry, Magical Original Characters, Sidhe, Ireland!, Political Intrigue, Lots of Sexy Outfits, Disproportionate Amounts of Unprofessional Snogging, Hunting Frogs, Fairy Queen, Established Relationship But Not, That's Kind of the Point of It, Those Pining Idiots.
Summary: Harry Potter has a very nice life, thank you very much. He's a top Curse-Breaker with a lucrative Ministry contract, and exciting prospects ahead.
Sometimes he does wish that he had time to pursue something official with Draco Malfoy - they're half in love with each other, after all, and a great team (in and out of bed), though Draco is still one of the most infuriating people he knows.
And when Draco asks Harry to accompany him on a diplomatic mission to the mysterious Sidhe fairies in Ireland, Harry agrees to lend his expertise. Especially since the Sidhe diplomat is a handsome fairy prince who's also in love with Draco.
Join Malfoy and Potter in a daring tale of espionage, politics, intrigue, and frog-hunting!
Notes: This was for @hdtropes 2019, written for @viridianjane, who provided me with such a thoughtful, exciting list of prompts and ideas. This was probably not the fic I would have written if left to my own devices (cough constant Auror!fic cough) but I love it all the more for inspiring me to something new, challenging, and rich. Thank you so much, it was a delight to write it for you, and it's very dear to my heart.
My challenge was to move the action away from Britain but still maintain the integrity of the characters and keep them rooted in the wizarding world as we know it (or: This Is Not An AU).
Thanks to the wonderful fest mods for their superb work - I loved taking part and would recommend it to any new writer.
Thanks to @gracerene09 for the brilliant proofread and the tense change (what is it with me and tenses?!)
And huge thanks to the wonderful @maesterchill for the incisive, supportive beta and flailing about the Cork connection - much love!
Another clicky link here!
(Photo credit Mikael Kristenson on Unsplash)
Fic Claim! Silverpoint
So happy to get to claim my fic for the amazing Wireless fest. I thoroughly enjoyed writing this, and getting to be part of such a supportive and welcoming fest.
I am so proud of this one. It was a gorgeous combination of words just flowing out, and some good hard work!
@maesterchill did the most generous, supportive and comprehensive beta on this - thank you so much, peteen!
Rating: Explicit
Word count (for fic): 8853
Song and movie: I See the Light, from Tangled
Tags/Warnings: 2nd person POV, Break-up (to make-up), minor Draco Malfoy/ Charlie Weasley, mention of past Harry Potter/ Charlie Weasley, minor mention of drinking to excess, minor non-graphic vomiting, hospitalization, non-graphic mention of injuries.
Summary:
"It seems fairly simple to you, but you know that you don't really understand love - how could you, after all? You've never known how to talk about it, but you've never had to before. Everyone you ended up loving has always understood. You've been able to show them, by fighting for them, dying for them.
That seems a bit much- after all, Malfoy just wants tea in bed and his cock in your mouth (not usually at the same time).
It's ok to love him, you reason with yourself - he doesn't have to know. No one ever has to know."
Or: How Harry Potter Fell In Love (and Realised that Draco Malfoy Loved Him Back).
And another clicky link - read it on AO3
Take You Made rec
It's just occurred to me that when I published my only proper Drarry fic (I've written more since but they are anon fest entries so I can't pimp them yet) I wasn't really active on Tumblr. So I thought I'd re-rec my own work in case any of my friends who haven't read it fancies giving it a go. Is that weird of me? Erra sure, why not!
"...it was very hard to hate someone when you could feel the beguiling power of their magic pulsing with your own heartbeat; when the tendrils of their magic licked at your skin and crackled through the palms of your hands; when your very bones throbbed with the wild excess of their power."
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
It's been a weird few days and I wanted to cheer myself up, so I posted something to AO3.
It's a domestic Drarry fluff piece -totally different to what I normally write, and short (500 words or so).
It was written especially for someone who loves cats, children, and domestic bliss. I hope the fluffiness comes across!
