#graymatters
Fanfic Classics, batch 4 (Drarry, cold edition)
More Serious Literary Work Book Covers, with a cold theme. Snow, ice, cold rain, and winter! Bleak landscapes & existential melancholy! Or they just sort of feel shivery and long-cold-night to me.
Put on warm socks before reading.
- Among Ancient Pines by Theartfulldodger (@graymatters)
- Crown Witnessby@slytherco
- warmest part of the winter by warmfoothills
- Polar Night by hereticalvision
- As Souls From Bodies Steal by Femme (@femmequixotic)
- Us, in Lieuby@tepre
- Heartlinesby@shiftylinguini
- The Light More Beautifulby@firethesound
- Helix by Saras_girl
- Trenches by sara_holmes
Part1,2,3, explanation of what I mean by “classics.” Art credits below.
In order:
- “Forest in Hoarfrost” by Ivan Shishkin, before 1898
- Detail of “Self-Portrait with Cigarette” by Henri-Edmond Cross, 1880
- “The messenger of autumn” by Paul Klee, 1922
- “They like winter in New York State” (WPA Poster), between 1936-1941
- “Melting Snow. Fontainbleau” by Paul Cezanne, 1880
- “Piano Keys Lake” by Frantisek Kupka, 1905
- “Plate 101: Raven” by John James Audubon, before 1851
- “Futurist Composition” by Joseph Stella, 1914
- Illustration from “Meditationes emblematicae de restaurata pace Germaniae” by Johann Vogel, 1649
- Detail of “The Searchlights” by Henri Meunier, 1917
Draco always tells the muggles he fucks about magic.
Maybe he likes the power it gives him, or maybe he finds the stupid look on their faces funny when he coaxes a Lumos to his palm. Whatever the reason, Harry can’t stop the heat that rages every time Draco parades someone to his bedroom, casting Harry a look of triumph, as though Harry shares in the spoils.
Draco always asks for Harry’s help with the memory charms.
“Be a dear, Harry? What are roommates for, after all?” he says one night, leaning his bony hip against the doorframe. Inwardly, Harry seethes. Outwardly, Harry shrugs, but he can’t suppress the tremble in his hands.
Harry always smiles when he replaces memories of Draco’s body with something terrible, something tragic.
Draco’s bedroom is a mixture of sweat, smoke, and sex as Harry hovers over the unsuspecting muggle. As soon as the man starts crying, Harry pushes him out the door and turns to face Draco. He’s not sure what sets him off. Maybe it’s the neutral gaze Draco uses to watch him. Maybe it’s Draco’s well-fucked hair. Or maybe Harry’s patience has finally expired.
A fire spreads in Harry’s lungs as he crowds Draco against the doorframe, leaning his full weight into his chest and scowling at Draco’s nonchalance.
“Are you ever going to fuck someone I don’t have to Obliviate?” Harry growls.
Draco’s lips curve into a wicked grin as he threads his fingers through Harry’s belt loops and ghosts his breath over the shell of Harry’s ear.
“Thought you’d never ask.”
For@drarrymicrofic’s prompt, forbidden.
