“Your Potions grade literally couldn’t get any lower. Studying.”
“What are they going to do, kick me out?” A small snort; Harry grinned to himself, pleased. “Anyway, it’s not… come on, put the book down. Five minutes. Give me five minutes, and I’m sure I can change your mind.”
Draco’s hand came closer. “That confident?”
“More.” Harry’s palm covered his.
“Well…” Draco bit his lip, but Harry saw the smile he was trying to hide. “All right.”
Harry took a deep breath; flowers, grass, Draco. Like Amortentia, but better.
imagine stephen black and emma pole ending up alone together after emma gets taken by the gentleman, and she’s just lying on a couch looking listless and he’s in the room to get something or do some chore and all of a sudden emma can’t stand it anymore, she’s tried to tell everyone else what’s wrong with her but nothing ever comes out of her mouth but nonsense, and she takes a deep breath and tells stephen everything and they just stare at each other for a few seconds before she bursts into tears, relieved that she’s finally able to say it out loud to another person and furious because she knows stephen is as trapped as she is and neither of them can do anything about it, and stephen tries to comfort her rather awkwardly without actually touching her
imagine stephen black and emma pole at one of their early parties at lost-hope, and the gentleman is dancing with emma but he’s called away to deal with some fairy matter so he beckons stephen over and tells him to keep lady pole company until he returns, and stephen hesitates and is about to protest that he cannot dance with his employer’s wife, it wouldn’t be proper, but the gentleman has already bustled away. stephen doesn’t really want to disobey him, and emma is there watching him with that awful haunted look that never leaves her face these days, and he holds out his hands and she grips them tightly like a woman on the verge of drowning who’s trying not to slip further below the waves. her hands are freezing, and she says in a quiet, desperate voice, “talk to me, stephen,” so stephen starts to speak as calmly as he can about sir walter’s financial affairs and the footmen’s latest misadventures and which shops he visited yesterday, and eventually the dance ends and they move to one side of the room but emma doesn’t let go of his hands until the gentleman returns to claim her again
Ok, I have to say this. The entire DEH fanfic writer community is just so sweet and adorable and supportive. I love every single one of you, and I am honestly so happy for and proud of each and every one of you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Imma tag some of you guys, bc I want you to feel as loved and appreciated as you make me feel.
It was still dark when Draco blinked his gritty eyes open—and it may have been the worst mistake of his life.
His tongue was like sandpaper, and glued to the roof of his mouth. There was a distinct possibility that a herd of Hippogriffs was stampeding through his skull, and his sheets smelled of gin and sweat and an unnameable odour that he was scared to identify.
Draco was also fairly certain he was dying.
But even worse than all of that, and it was already very awful, Draco wasn’t alone.
He rolled to his side, desperate for water or hangover potion—to be fair, at this point he’d drink poison if it meant an end to his pain—and was greeted by the sight of a far too pleased, and far too handsome, Harry Potter.
It was a shame that after all Draco’s fantasies about getting Harry into his bed, it had finally happened and Draco had no memory of how.
“Morning!” Harry probably said, but to Draco he may as well have been shouting.
Draco pressed a finger to those full, and luscious lips (he was hungover, not blind). “I am begging you, please, please, please be quiet.”
“How’re you feeling?” Harry mumbled, his lips still trapped by Draco’s hand.
“I wish I were dead,” Draco said, shutting his eyes as the world took an unsettling turn.
“Eight gin and tonics will do that.”
“Eight?” Draco croaked. Well, that explained quite a lot…
“It was quite impressive, actually—until you fell over.”
“F-fell over?”
“That was after you laid on the bar—”
Burying his face into his pillow (a somewhat half-hearted attempt at smothering himself), Draco groaned.
“—But before I carried you home.”
So, not only had Harry stayed the night, he’d also carried Draco home in those massive arms that featured heavily in every daydream Draco had about him—and Draco had no memory of it. At all.
There was literally no end to Draco’s suffering.
“Is there a chance you were having a particularly vivid hallucination?”
“Nope,” Harry said, popping the ‘p’ with a little too much vigour given the depth of Draco’s misery.
And he didn’t really want to know, but Draco had to ask, “Is that all?”
“Not even close.” Harry laughed, and Draco—against his will—smiled.
“I hate you.”
“Ah—see that’s the thing…” Draco felt Harry snuggle closer, pressing his face into Draco’s pillow until they were eye to eye. “Last night, you told me that you loved me.”
And now Draco really did want to die. There was no way to stop the blush creeping up his neck, he could feel his face burning and he saw Harry’s smile widen even further.
“I—well, I was pissed—”
“Malfoysdo not get pissed,” Harry said, eyes sparkling. “The polite term is inebriated.”
“In any case, I wasn’t in control of my faculties, and I’ve got no idea what I said. So you can’t—”
“I love you too,” Harry said as his fingers brushed the hair off Draco’s face.
“Y-you do?”
“Yes.”
Draco thought the stampeding Hippogriffs might have moved to his chest because he was sure his heart was about to explode. He’d made a total arse of himself, and Harry still loved him—he really was perfect.
“I need a hangover potion, and to brush my teeth. Then I want you to tell me again so I can kiss you properly.”
Harry kissed his forehead. “Deal.”
Apparently, getting drunk on eight gin and tonics was the best mistake of his life.
not sure why my brain went immediately to wedding vows when I heard this, but here we are. for the @drarrymicrofic song prompt “remedy” by Adele (350 words, T). thanks to @crazybutgood for the beta!! I took such an angsty, haunting song and went: “fluff? fluff.” such is life.
“Merlin, we’re married.” Harry collapsed onto the bed, holding out his hand to admire the gold band adorning his fourth finger.
“Never getting rid of me now.” Draco settled delicately at the head of the bed, lifting Harry’s head into his lap.
“Your diabolical scheme worked.”
“Ah, yes. Finally, I have the Saviour just where I want him.” He withdrew his fingers from Harry’s curls and tucked them inside his half-unbuttoned shirt, settling just over his heart. Harry rested his hand over top of it.
“I’m too tired to have sex,” Harry admitted.
Draco smiled at him. “Me too. Breakfast feels like a millennia ago.”
“Too right.” Harry kicked off his shoes. “Come lay with me.”
They arranged themselves into a familiar mirrored position on their sides, noses within nuzzling distance. Grey met green.
“Will you read your vows again? The ceremony went by so fast and…”
Harry grinned, nodding.
“I promise to make you tea every morning — two sugars — and cook for you every night.
“I promise to keep you well-stocked in French hair potions and silk pyjamas. I promise to rub your feet after every shift at the hospital.
“I promise to always indulge your imagination, even when it means another full-scale renovation.
“I promise to be a good dad to Furdinand and any other children we have, furry or otherwise.
“I promise to remind you of the man you have become when you forget. I promise to hold you when the nightmares keep you from sleeping.
“I promise to protect you, so you’ll never feel unsafe another day in your life. I promise to remedy any situation that brings you pain or unhappiness. I promise you joy.
“Draco, I promise to spend every moment of my life loving you, nurturing you. You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
Draco leaned forward and kissed him then, just like he had that afternoon. “You memorised them.”
“They’re written on my heart.”
“Sap.”
“You love it.”
“I love you.”
Draco knew it, even without his husband having to say so. Theirs was a forever kind of love.
