This was written for the Discord Drabble Challenge. The prompt was bubbles and the wordcount 283, also on Ao3
warnings for euthanasia and implied MCD
He brought a new marble today, as he always does. It’s pretty, glittering in the light, eager to play with the others.
Their bag is dangerously full, more difficult to close after each of his visits. Once, he promised he would have me out of here before I had more marbles than space. I believed him, then, when he held my hand and I was afraid of sleeping here on my own.
He still holds my hand, and I’m still afraid, but I don’t believe it anymore. He tries, gives everything he has towards a cure, but I think we both know the truth. The marbles are nice, shimmering in all the colours of the rainbow. Sometimes, I think I can see them flying, like bubbles. He used to love bubbles, born of magic and soap. He would stand between them, dishes forgotten, creating more and more bubbles, laughing and dancing with them, sun shining on my little domestic memory. It’s all I have left, memories of happier times.
I know I could spend a lifetime like this, cables and tubes binding me to bed, the man I love visiting as often as he can, bringing gifts of marbles. I could grow old like this, older than average.
I can’t do that to him. It’s tearing him apart, seeing me like this, being unable to help me, all he has to offer cheap glass and cramping hands. I love him, and sitting at my sickbed is not a future I want for him.
The Healers whisper, quiet where he can’t hear; he would be upset. They suggest endless sleep, my cure. But I won’t be sleeping; it’s my turn to watch over him.
Author notes: Written for the February’s Drarry Discord Drabble Challenge. Prompt: Bubble. Thanks so much to the mods for organizing this and to darrinya for the beta work ❤️
Draco let the hot water calm his body. Colourful soap bubbles floated around him and made the bath even more pleasant with their perfumes. Soft music was playing, and candles lit the room warmly. He sighed softly and closed his eyes, ignoring the tears that insisted on falling.
“Hey,” a soft voice said. Draco opened his eyes and saw Harry, looking at him with concern. “What’s wrong, love?”
Draco swallowed and wiped his tears in a useless attempt to hide them from Harry. He opened his mouth, but the words refused to come out. He shook his head and extended his hand towards Harry in invitation to join him in their huge bath.
Moments later, he had his head on Harry’s shoulder with Harry’s arms tightly wrapped around his torso. Tears still left his eyes.
“Did something bad happen at work today?” Harry asked.
“No,” he managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just… Life is too much sometimes.”
Harry hummed in agreement and tightened his hug. The bubble of anxiety, worries, and fears that had grown and grown inside Draco’s chest in the last hours shivered a little at being confronted with Harry’s love, but stayed there, refusing to leave so easily.
“Harry…” he dared to say after some minutes.
“Yes?”
“I can’t do this anymore. I can’t breathe. I shouldn’t be allowed to—” a sob cut off his words. He buried his face in Harry’s chest and let out all the pain that had been suffocating him.
Harry held him and murmured soothing words until Draco finally felt calmer and ready to leave the bath. The bubble was still in his chest, but it looked smaller than before.
“So this is your childhood room, huh?” Harry asked, flopping on Draco’s bed.
After the war, Draco decided to turn the Manor into an orphanage and welfare centre for troubled youth. They’d cleared out most of the property, all that remained were the main bedrooms, which was how Draco found himself in his old room with his current boyfriend, Harry Potter.
“Is that a poster of me?” he asked, squinting at the wall opposite the bed.
Draco ran and ripped off the magical poster showcasing Harry on a broom during a Quidditch match from the wall.
“It was a gag gift from Pansy,” Draco blushed.
“Sure,” Harry smirked, wrapping his arms around Draco’s waist, placing a quick kiss on his nose.
“Okay, come on, help me pack,” Draco said, pushing Harry away, but not before giving him a peck on his lips.
“Will you put these old robes in the discard pile?”
Draco turned towards Harry and let out a sudden gasp.
“Where did you find that?”
Draco gently lifted a stuffed unicorn lying atop the discard pile. It was a cute, purple thing, slightly dusty, with a torn wing which Draco mended with a quick spell.
Harry gave him an amused look as Draco cleared his throat.
“Mother got me this when I was a child… I always wanted a pet unicorn… I named him Sir Bubblegum Winglefur… Bubbles for short,” Draco reminisced.
“Awww! Adorable,” Harry chuckled.
Draco huffed, “Well, I’m not a kid anymore.” With a longing look, he put the toy back in the pile and they continued sorting the room.
Later when Harry was carrying the boxes out, he made sure to safely tuck away Bubbles in his jacket.
Written for the February Drarry Discord Drabble Challenge.
Prompt: Bubbles
Word count: 283
Thank you to the organisers and all the lovely folks over on Discord.
Rating: T Warnings: None For the February Drarry Discord Drabble Challenge - “bubbles,” 283 words
“Can you feel that?” Harry whispered, one hand on Draco’s hip, the other over his eyes, Harry’s lips a centimetre from his ear. Draco could feel the warm press of Harry’s body against his, and he could feel the gentle rumbling of the ground beneath his feet and the heat rising around him.
Draco nodded, letting his mind tune into the vibration, letting himself feel the Earth’s roiling magical energy like a steady heartbeat.
“Can you smell it?” Harry asked, and Draco took a deep breath, relishing in Harry’s breath against his neck, hot and close.
“I can,” Draco said, taking in the sulfur-thick heat and wrinkling his nose. The acridic air was overwhelmingly intense when he let himself focus on it.
“Look,” Harry said, pulling his hand away to settle on Draco’s other hip. Draco leaned against him and opened his eyes, gasping in awe at the bubbling volcano before them.
For once, Draco was silent, staring in awe at the crashing cacophony of fire and foaming lava and gurgling smoke in the air, too vibrant to be real. But it was real. He could feel the Earth rumbling under his boots, smell the heat in the air, taste the power seething beyond the peak.
“Now cast,” Harry said, placing his palm over the back of Draco’s hand and raising it. Draco did as he said, focusing on the explosive noise of the volcano rather than the gentleness of Harry’s hand and he cast, sending a great spurt of Incendio fire bursting from his fingertips.
“I did it,” he breathed, unbelieving.
“You did,” Harry answered, pressing a kiss to Draco’s neck. “I told you, wandless magic just takes a bit of inspiration.”
Thank you for everyone putting up with my weird drawbles in the Drarry Discord
Warning: do not insert-
“So you want to explain what odd bit of potion you have slurping about in there? It’s obscene.” Draco’s tone was cutting and imperious, and if he hadn’t been talking about a lava lamp, Harry wouldn’t have found it as hilarious as he did.
“It’s not a potion—it’s Muggle.”
“Riiiiiiight,” Draco sneered, as if Harry was having him on. “So you have a levitating, neon substance the color of adolescent Billywig, and you want me to believe it’s not magical?” He huffed and crossed his arms. “If you don’t want to tell me, fine—keep your secrets. But don’t spew such untenable lies-”
At this point, Harry was clutching his sides with silent laughter.
“What’s so funny?!”
Unable to hide it any longer, Harry let out an explosive snort. “It’s not like… I mean, I’m not laughing at you—not really, anyway – but it truly is Muggle. I’m not lying. It was Sirius’ in the 70s.”
Draco blinked at him like that explained nothing at all. “You’re telling me, that that-” he pointed here at object of great deception, “-is a Muggle…what? Drink?” At Harry’s silence, his eyes grew wide and cheeks flushed. “Don’t tell me…it’s not a, y’know, sex toy…is it?!”
Harry burst into a renewed wave of laughter and tugged Draco in by the collar to press an adoring kiss to the side of his cheek. “No, you idiot, it’s a lamp.”
“A…lamp?”
Draco’s cheeks grew redder still as he contemplated the object. “So…not something you would put up your…”
“No! No one’s putting a lava lamp up their arse, Malfoy!” Harry knocked them onto the bed with a smirk. “But I can put something else up your arse if you want.”
Air escaped Harry’s lungs in a whoosh as he sunk below the surface, the water surrounding him rippling with the waves. Soon after it started to calm like he expected, letting him catch his breath.
Draco had shown off his powers early on. Harry could still recall the look of pity when he first aided him with a bubble to breathe underwater.
A transfer student? In sixth year? Most unusual. But Harry Potter’s reputation preceded him: The Chosen One.
They sorted Potter into Gryffindor, which Draco thought was ridiculous. Slytherin had the best view of the Black Lake. Potter’s eyes, stupid and bright, were the perfect shade of Slytherin green. So was his tail.
Draco sat in Charms and watched with great amusement as the Weasel struggled to push Potter’s tank into class. Draco didn’t want to know how many Levitation Charms it took to get him all the way up into Gryffindor Tower.
Potter was pretty, with wild hair and a cool tattoo: a triangle and circle bisected by a line. But he never spoke. He communicated through the bubbles he exhaled. When excited, they’d fizz like champagne; when sad, they’d get all wobbly and sink. When Potter and the Weasel fought, the bubbles became jagged and cracked the tank (Granger was quick with her Reparo).
But whenever Draco walked nearby, Potter’s bubbles transformed into tiny hearts.
One day, when they were all alone, the git grabbed Draco by his tie and pulled him under.
My hair! My clothing! I can’t breathe!
Except he could, so long as Harry touched him. Before he knew it, Harry was kissing him, slow and languid. Draco felt that kiss for days, long after he’d spelled himself dry.
Soon the world closed in; the war loomed closer. Before long, Death Eaters surrounded the castle. Everyone held the prophecy close to heart. They firmly believed Harry was their Saviour.
But Draco knew better. Harry may have the softest lips he’d ever kissed, but the wizarding world was fucked.
Written for the February 2021 Drarry Discord Drabble Challenge Prompt: Bubbles Word Count: 283
I had such a great time hosting the Drabble Challenge this month. As usual, I was blown away by everyone’s creativity, and I loved seeing all the different interpretations of the prompt ❤️
triggers: assumed and implied suicide attempt / hopeful ending
Fears That Stay
“I am back!” BANG! The door is shut. “Sorry, I’m late. I got pizza!” You slip off your shoes and walk into the kitchen. A bottle of wine sits on the counter, half-empty.
Your eyes fall onto an open envelope and a short message in Hermione’s handwriting. There’s a newspaper article too. Some of the lines are smudged.
“POTTER’S SECRET LOVE NEST UNCOVERED - SAVIOUR STILL INVOLVED WITH DEATH EATER SCUM.”
Dread crawls down your spine and claws at your heart.
“Draco?”
“I’ve been working hard to change, but they’ll never acknowledge any of it.”
Apprehension pulls you into the living-room, into the office. No Draco.
“I can’t breathe in London. The way they look at me, the hidden insults, those articles.“
“Draco?”
You hurry upstairs. The bedroom is empty.
More of Draco’s words flood your mind. They’ve been buried inside of you for three years.
“This is no life. If I stay…”
You burst into the bathroom. Draco is in the tub, eyes closed, face pale. The foam gleams red.
Your cry vibrates between the tiled walls. You stumble forward, hands and eyes searching for cuts.
Draco stirs. He opens his eyes. His gaze focuses on your face. Surprise answers your panic.
You notice a wine glass in the water.
“Oh god, for a moment I thought…” Your voice breaks.
“What?” He seems confused, then gasps. “No, Harry. Never. I was sleeping.”
“But in London…”
“That’s…in the past.” He holds you close.
Later he says, “I’m sorry, I didn’t make sure you know. Life here hasn’t been a bubble waiting to burst. I’ve changed. I’m happy. No filthy article can change that. Do you believe me?”
You smile. One day you will.
Draco in the bath, angry about that dirty article, but not upset enough to stay awake in the warm water after a long day and half a bottle of wine.
I participated in the Drarry Discord Drabble Challenge for the first time! The prompt was bubbles.
CW: This is mostly fluff, but there is some mild smut too!
—
Draco is not sure where to look.
Certainly not at Potter, whose plain white Muggle t-shirt is positively plastered to his skin. In the bright Sunday sun, Draco can see every inch of his chest very clearly. The definition of his pecs, the darker circles of his nipples, tight from the cool wetness. The small hollow of his navel and the dark smattering of hair that leads lower and disappears into his waistband.
Draco is not a prude, thank you very much. He’s seen all of it before, and more.
But there are other people here. Children, even! He can’t imagine how Granger approved an idea this obscene at her charity event!
“Are you alright?” Potter teases, quirking a mischievous eyebrow.
Draco would swear that Potter deliberately squeezes the sudsy sponge all over the front of his shirt before turning back around to continue washing the car in front of him.
“Quite,” Draco mutters, thrusting his own sponge into the soapy water.
“Your face and neck are all red. Have you cast a skin-protective charm on yourself?”
“I think it’s a rash. I’ve got cheap car shampoo all over me,” he snaps. “My skin is very sensitive, you know.”
“You don’t taste like shampoo,” Potter mutters later, inside, mouthing at Draco’s neck, pressing him up against the wall in a deserted corridor. Draco can practically hear his smug smile. “At least not your neck. You might, elsewhere. I should check.”
His hand trails down, rough over the buds of Draco’s nipples, before settling lower, on the fly of his soaked trousers.
“Oh, do shut up,” Draco bites back, but it comes out weak and breathless.
This was written as part of the February Drarry Discord Drabble Challenge. The prompt was ‘Bubbles’ and the word count 283.
[little edit because i forgot to add these before i hit post but warnings for: possibly unrequited love, ambiguous/open ending, potential MCD and a questionable take on the hanahaki disease trope]
He’d always known it would end in some stupid way, much like this. After surviving the war, and being pardoned thanks to Potter and Weasley’s statements, Draco knew that sooner or later, it would all be for nothing.
The spell hits him from the back in a corridor full of students. If anyone sees who the culprit is, they’re not willing to share.
The first time he coughs up bubbles is three days later, when Potter asks him if he’s got a spare piece of parchment — his inkwell leaked inside his satchel. Draco means to say he knows a spell that will save his ruined parchment and his bag, but only bubbles come out.
The bubbles get worse as the autumn browns and reds give way to winter’s deep greens and snow whites. “There’s no actual water in your chest, Mr. Malfoy,” says Madame Pomfrey, “but I am afraid you are in fatal danger.”
“Lucky me,” he thinks.
Potter is concerned — a pity in his eyes Draco wishes he’d never seen before. Granger is in the library with him all the time, looking for answers in old tomes and musty volumes. McGonagall is choleric. Pansy is upset that he refuses to tell Mother. Blaise doesn’t look him in the eye, but Draco hears him sniffling at night.
Potter is worried — but that doesn’t stop the bubbles, it doesn’t make Draco feel like his heart and lungs aren’t filling up with soapy water every time he breathes.
Potter is desperate — desperation means nothing when it should be love . Madame Pomfrey says being loved back is the only thing that can save Draco.
For the Drarry discord drawble challenge - the prompt for February was “Bubbles” and the restriction was shades of blue, green and an accent colour of choice.
Written for February’s Drarry Discord Monthly Drabble Challenge: 283 words for “bubbles.”
Warning: Sectumsempra imagery; slightly nsfw
Many thanks to @fw00shy for being an excellent beta!
***
In Draco’s dreams after the War, Harry always accepts his hand. Harry’s nails are bitten to uneven ridges, his skin rubs rough, but his fingers welcome Draco as they curl and squeeze back. The handshake loops. Eleven again, Draco doesn’t let go.
Harry still beats him to the snitch in the flying ones. Draco watches the golden wings flutter, then still beneath Harry’s grasp, his own fingers pale and reaching into the emptied space left behind.
It’s Harry’s hands, not his wand, that rend him open in the Other dreams. Jagged nails pierce and spread Draco’s chest wide like cabinet doors, proving at last his insides aren’t yellow, but a searing, bubbling red, even in the dark, even against the grout, until time turns them dull and brown.
They burn together in the Room of Requirement. The broom won’t lift, stuttering beneath their weight. Neither makes a sound.
“I don’t know what it means,” he tells Luna one afternoon. She keeps painting, her face hidden from him while he’s laid out on her chaise.
“You don’t?” she asks.
He frowns. “You do?“
She hums to herself and doesn’t answer.
Sleeping with Harry doesn’t change the dreams—only the after.
Draco presses Harry deeper into the bed. Lets his thighs slide wider with every roll of his hips. The building heat, the need, colours his chest blush. It spreads unevenly over the valleys of his scars. When he’s close, he lets Harry lift their hands to his mouth. Watches Harry swallow each digit deep beside his tongue.
Neither is quiet when he comes.
Harry never speaks in the dreams. Here, he gathers Draco close, whispers: “Stay.”
Draco does. Sleeps. Harry’d be there when he wakes.
***
You can also read here on AO3 or listen to an awesome podficof this piece by the wonderful @lastontheboathere on AO3.
Drarry Drabble Challenge February 2021 l Prompt: Bubbles Rating: G l 283 words l Read it on AO3
“What if we went away together?” Draco asked one Thursday morning. They were both still lying in bed, staring at the ceiling of Harry’s bedroom before the alarm went off.
“Yeah?” Harry said, his voice sleep-rough.
In the dim light, Draco told him all about the whitewashed villa in Provence, and its tilted floors. Blowing enchanted bubbles in lavender fields under a lazy sunset. How he had known all the families and played in the summers with the local wizarding kids. He left out when the games changed over from playing Aurors and Dark Wizards to kisses behind someone’s shed, tipsy off a stolen half bottle of wine.
“That’s where you were after?” Harry asked. After always meant after the war, after the trial. But there was no accusation in his voice.
“Yes. We should go this summer.”
The alarm went off.
“Maybe,” Harry said. Draco’s stomach swooped with something like hope.
“What do you want to do for dinner?” Draco asked. Harry got up. He was off to the Ministry, but Draco would go home to his lab. So he sat up in bed and watch Harry stretch, flit around the room.
“We could go out to eat,” Harry said, picking up Draco’s clothes and folding them on a chair. “There’s a new Wizarding place.” He said it so casually. A tendril of shame curled in Draco’s belly.
“Before you said…” Draco began. Before always meant when they had started this, kissing in Luna’s back garden. “You didn’t want to be seen in public.” With me went unsaid.
"You can’t think I meant to keep you a secret forever,“ Harry said, sounding surprised.
Per usual, Potter struts around the Auror Trainees’ locker room as if he owns the place.
In the nude.
As a rule, Draco has no qualms about the human body naked and on display. He, himself, is often unclothed. As he should be—he’s a fine specimen. And, by extension, the locker room is an appropriate place for wizards to congregate in various stages of undress.
But must Potter always select the shower stall within Draco’s direct line of sight?
Apparently, it’s not enough that Harry fucking Potter—Ministry darling and the bloody Chosen One—is bestowed with magic so powerful it oozes from his flawless skin and disrupts Draco’s heartbeat.
No, in addition to all the privileges graced upon him, Potter’s Golden DNA seems to have twisted within its double helix the formula for a perfect bubble butt.
Draco stands under the shower, fingers pruning. If the daggers he stares were knuts they’d bounce right off that firm arse.
One by one, the showers turn off and the locker room empties until only he and Potter remain.
Harry glances over his shoulder. “You got a problem, Malfoy?” Soap bubbles shunt down through the valley between plump cheeks.
“You’re my problem.”
Harry snorts. “Kiss my arse.”
“You’d like that wouldn’t you,” Draco sneers.
Harry presses his palms against the wall and widens his stance, presenting. “I would. How about you?”
Draco’s blood ignites, flooding his groin. In two long strides, he’s in Harry’s stall, crowding him against the tiles, grinding his erection against him.
Harry’s moan strengthens Draco’s resolve.
Enough is enough.
But Draco discovers it’s difficult to put his foot down when he’s on his knees.
February Drarry Discord Drabble Challenge: “bubbles” + 283 words.
After the war, the three of us rented a dingy flat in muggle London.
We were tired a lot, and we often forgot to ward our doors. I didn’t care. I had nothing worth much except my fucked-up memories, and those were patchy at best.
We all shared one bed most nights. In the Forest, we had slept close together too.
Ginny barged in one morning, laughed, and said us three sleeping in one bed was strange.
I told her to go back home and fuck off. I didn’t want to fuck her, or anyone.
Looking back, I think she was hurting too.
The Fiendfyre had badly scorched my right leg. It always throbbed, and I was happy because I felt something.
I wondered what I looked like on the inside: probably not much there, I thought. I imagined my charred skin stripped down to brittle bone.
Two years in, Malfoy started coming by, studying for Healer Exams with Ron at our kitchen table.
Malfoy looked softer—filled-out and rounded instead of jagged edges. But his eyes were sharp, like they would cut me if I stared too long.
He stretched his broad, strong arms up, and his shirt lifted, exposing a sliver of smooth skin. My cock stirred. Fuck, he looked good. I’d have him right there if he wanted.
My bad leg quivered as I passed him, and I stumbled. He steadied me with his warm hand at my side. Suddenly his eyes didn’t look like knives anymore. “Alright?” he asked.
I grinned. “Not really.” My leg threatened to give.
He smiled tentatively. “I brewed you Dittany soap if you’d like.”
I wanted to lather myself in him until I was clean.
February 2021 Drarry Discord Drabble / Drawble Challenge Drarry Rated: T Emotional Hurt / Comfort Prompt: bubbles | 283 | shades of blue/green + accent color
-
Harry had visited the Prefects’ Bathroom only once before. With Myrtle’s ogling and Cedric’s less than helpful advice, it had been hardly enjoyable. Even after he was named Quidditch Captain, he hadn’t considered going back.
Not until tonight.
Harry sucked in a deep breath as he opened the door. Horrified, Harry found himself confronted with the naked backside of Draco Malfoy. Harry let out a gasp, causing Malfoy to steal a glance.
“Like what you see, Potter?” hissed Malfoy, lifting a towel.
Harry’s gaze followed the bubbles trickling down Malfoy’s pale back, lingering far too long on the soft curve of his ass.
“No..yes…I mean…er.”
Harry couldn’t help but notice how thin Malfoy was. Having always been fit, this Malfoy was skin and bone. A sense of worry washed over Harry. Arms raised, Malfoy massaged the towel through his hair. It took only a small shift of Harry’s gaze to register the mark burned into Malfoy’s forearm.
“I knew it! The Dark Mark!”
The towel fell to the floor as Malfoy turned toward Harry, clutching his arm to his chest. “You know nothing, Potter!” he spat. Though his tone was sharp, his eyes betrayed him.
Malfoy was scared.
“Draco.” Harry approached him slowly, picking up the towel. Malfoy stood frozen as Harry wrapped it around his waist. Harry should be yelling—demanding answers. Instead, his expression softened as he locked eyes with Malfoy.
“Potter, why—”
Harry grabbed Malfoy’s wrist, exposing the mark. He grazed it gently with his thumb. Malfoy shuddered, tears welling in his silver eyes.
“Tell me everything,” said Harry, lifting Malfoy’s hand to his cheek. “Please.”
He’d wanted proof. Not that Malfoy was a Death Eater.
Summary:Draco prepares a romantic bubble bath for Valentine’s Day…
**
Draco uncorked the bottle, relishing the little ~pop~ that echoed off the walls of the bathroom. It was still smoking slightly, as he had only just finished brewing it a few moments ago. He reached his arm over the tub and poured a generous amount into the rushing water. The liquid potion immediately transformed into thousands upon thousands of bubbles.
With a satisfied smile, Draco turned to light the red candle he’d infused with a few drops of his most powerful Amortentia potion. He struck the muggle match, his hair standing on end at the sizzling sound, and brought flame to wick. The smell of treacle tart, the wood of a broom handle, and vanilla filled his nostrils. After extinguishing the match, he sank into the steaming tub and disappeared under the bubbles.
He let out an elongated sigh, his eyes fluttering closed as he savored the feeling of the hot water prickling against his skin. The bubbles enveloped and caressed him, their soft kisses encouraging him to sink deeper into the water.
“You haven’t started without me, have you?”
The voice came from the doorway, and Draco opened one eye to peek at Harry. His lover was stripped bare, the candle casting shadows on his beautifully toned body—Harry joining a Quidditch Club had been an excellent idea, in Draco’s opinion.
“Come in,” Draco murmured, spreading his legs.
Harry settled into the tub, leaning against Draco who eagerly wrapped his arms around him.
“Why does the entire room smell like you?”
Draco snorted. “The Amortentia candle,” he explained.
Harry chuckled. “Well, that explains it. Happy Valentine’s Day.” Harry tilted his head back, and Draco tenderly pressed his lips to Harry’s.
“Happy Valentine’s Day.“
**
~ My contribution to the February 2021 Drarry Drabble Challenge!~
Summary:Draco prepares a romantic bubble bath for Valentine’s Day…
**
Draco uncorked the bottle, relishing the little ~pop~ that echoed off the walls of the bathroom. It was still smoking slightly, as he had only just finished brewing it a few moments ago. He reached his arm over the tub and poured a generous amount into the rushing water. The liquid potion immediately transformed into thousands upon thousands of bubbles.
With a satisfied smile, Draco turned to light the red candle he’d infused with a few drops of his most powerful Amortentia potion. He struck the muggle match, his hair standing on end at the sizzling sound, and brought flame to wick. The smell of treacle tart, the wood of a broom handle, and vanilla filled his nostrils. After extinguishing the match, he sank into the steaming tub and disappeared under the bubbles.
He let out an elongated sigh, his eyes fluttering closed as he savored the feeling of the hot water prickling against his skin. The bubbles enveloped and caressed him, their soft kisses encouraging him to sink deeper into the water.
“You haven’t started without me, have you?”
The voice came from the doorway, and Draco opened one eye to peek at Harry. His lover was stripped bare, the candle casting shadows on his beautifully toned body—Harry joining a Quidditch Club had been an excellent idea, in Draco’s opinion.
“Come in,” Draco murmured, spreading his legs.
Harry settled into the tub, leaning against Draco who eagerly wrapped his arms around him.
“Why does the entire room smell like you?”
Draco snorted. “The Amortentia candle,” he explained.
Harry chuckled. “Well, that explains it. Happy Valentine’s Day.” Harry tilted his head back, and Draco tenderly pressed his lips to Harry’s.
“Happy Valentine’s Day."
**
~ My contribution to the February 2021 Drarry Drabble Challenge!~
Summary: It’s 8th year and let’s be real…. nothing has changed. Harry is still obsessed with Draco Malfoy.
** Harry watches as Draco stands and makes a beeline for the castle. Something green catches Harry’s eye as it falls from Draco’s person, unseen by the man walking away, his feet crunching against fresh-fallen snow with each step.
Harry steps out from behind a tree to investigate: a Slytherin scarf.
The Eighth Years were given Hogwarts-themed uniforms, and Harry knows how hard it is for him to be attending Hogwarts not wearing his Gryffindor scarlet and gold. He should call out to Draco—but when he opens his mouth, no words escape.
Instead, he picks up the scarf, allowing the fibres to caress his hands.
I’ll just borrow it, Harry thinks, wrapping the scarf around his own neck.
**
~ My contribution to the January 2021 Drarry Drabble Challenge!~
~ My contribution to the December Drarry Drabble Challenge!~
Prompt: Tradition.
Tags/Warnings: Post-War, First Christmas Post-War, Fluff, Christmas Fluff, Sweet Banter
**
For as long as Draco could remember, his mother had encouraged him to develop an intimate and spiritual connection with the Earth. It was to be Draco and Harry’s first Christmas since the Battle of Hogwarts, and they were tending their individual Christmas Rose seedlings in the gardens of Grimmauld Place.
“Like this?” Harry asked, tentatively placing some soil around the seedlings, using a hand shovel that was so new, it brightly reflected the light of the candles they had conjured.
Draco grinned at the perfect image of his lover and the earth. As one. “Exactly,” he said. He used his own new hand shovel to delicately press the soil around their Christmas Roses.
When he was finished, Draco picked some soil up from the garden bed and relished in the feeling as he rubbed the dirt across his fingertips. Dry and damp at the same time, returning to the Earth while at the same time releasing his favorite scent—petrichor.
He took a deep breath and then exhaled with a contented sigh.
“It will take a few years before they fully bloom,” Draco explained.
“You mentioned,” Harry said. He paused. “They’re beautiful now.”
Draco nodded.
“As are you.”
Draco felt his cheeks burn. He’d never been good at hiding his embarrassment. His skin was just so pale and his blushes an intense beet red. His heart was pounding in his chest and he felt lightheaded—still amazed to be standing here with Harry at all. In Grimmauld Place of all places, celebrating their first Christmas after the War but more importantly…their first Christmas together as lovers and no longer enemies.
They felt it was important to commemorate such an important chapter beginning in their lives, and Draco, having had such fond memories of his mother’s Christmas Rose tradition, suggested it to Harry, who had loved the idea.
“So…how does this work?” Harry asked.
“We’ll touch the soil with one hand…” Draco put his right hand in the garden bed next to Harry’s left and their pinkies touched.
“And now…make a wish.”
“What sort of wish?”
“Anything.”
“Does it have to be Christmas-related?”
“Potter!” Draco narrowed his eyes. “Just make a wish.”
