A random little something for @drarrymicrofic ’s prompt ‘back in the saddle’.
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“Nerve damage, Potter,” said Malfoy, in a voice that aimed for haughty but actually landed somewhere closer to mortified. The bristles rustled gently as he spoke, and as Harry looked closely, he noticed the faint but constant tremor in Malfoy’s slim wrists.
“But – when –?”
Malfoy’s laugh was cold and jarring. “One too many Crucios, it seems. Aunt Bella could be awfully heavy handed at times.”
Harry swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. He’d fancied an early evening ride to clear his head; had planned to fly over to Hogsmeade and grab a Butterbeer. The last thing he’d expected was to find Malfoy here, slumped against the back of the broom shed, eyes bloodshot, his old Nimbus clutched tightly in trembling hands.
“And you really can’t –”
“Fly? No. It’s my balance, you see, it’s – oh, don’t look so horrified, Potter, at least you’ll have free run at the Quidditch Cup this year.” He smiled weakly. “It’s stupid, really. My casting’s off; I can barely control my magic. Can’t even chop Potions ingredients. Flying should be the least of my worries.”
Harry reached over without thinking, prised Malfoy’s fingers from around his broomstick and took his hand. Malfoy’s breath caught but he didn’t object, so Harry turned it over, palm down, fascinated. Malfoy’s fingers moved of their own accord, a flickering motion which spread from his fingertips across the back of his bony hand. As Harry watched, he could see the tendons working; could feel the quiver running up his own arm. He traced his finger along the ridges and valleys of Malfoy’s knuckles; pressed it into the soft spot between his thumb and index finger, unable to look away.
“It’s irreversible,” whispered Malfoy, mouth awfully close, sharp gaze on Harry’s face. When he tried to return it, his eyes fell instead on Malfoy’s lips: bitten raw but appealing, nonetheless.
“Fly with me, then,” Harry said, his voice throaty and unfamiliar.
“What?”
“Come on.”
Malfoy looked incredulous, but Harry merely tightened his grip, tugging him up to standing. Malfoy swung his leg over the broomstick, Harry following suit behind him, leaning over to grasp the handle over Malfoy’s still-shaking hands. He tucked his chin over Malfoy’s shoulder, guiding the two of them slowly up and into the still evening sky.
Malfoy hadn’t been exaggerating; his balance was dreadful. Harry had to keep a firm hold on the broom, his arms tight against Malfoy’s sides as they wobbled through the air. They managed to loop around the grounds once before Harry’s aching shoulders began to give out and he guided them down slowly to the side of the lake. Malfoy’s entire body trembled as he dismounted, flopping down onto the grass; whether from curse damage or adrenaline, Harry wasn’t sure. He was lightheaded himself, warm where Malfoy’s back had rested against his chest, giddy in a way he couldn’t explain.
As he watched, Malfoy extended his arm, lazily, dipping his fingers into the lake. Concentric circles spread rapidly outwards, perfectly even, the water lapping at the shore with tiny splashing sounds. Malfoy was frowning, worrying at his bottom lip again, so Harry took hold of his other hand and brought it up to his face. Malfoy’s hand shivered against his mouth, and he pressed a gentle kiss to the palm, feeling them then: tiny sparks of magic, trapped beneath the skin.
Ada and Hecate find themselves working late on New Year’s Eve. Just a short fluffy piece I threw together, since it seemed like we could all use something nice and gentle right now.
Soldier - Gavin DeGraw |Animals - Maroon 5 | I Will Follow You Into The Dark - Death Cab For Cutie | Love Me Again - John Newman | Young and Beautiful - Lana Del Rey |
Obvs not the project of many colors (we just started that one and your girl is def NOT a speedy crafter), but it’s spring and we’re just getting a little festive and floral! Another pattern from @shitpostsampler and considering all the neurodivergence we have in this house, this one just fits right in!
Materials: 16 count aida cloth, loops and threads embroidery floss in 702, 716, 758, dmc tapestry needles size 26, one helpful pupper to keep me company, and an 8" hoop. Oh! And a 5x7 frame from the walmart
A/N: I have taken to the fairytale-esque style, which, paired with a discussion about eating the moon with the wonderful @euphoniouspandemonium, resulted in this little monstrosity. A short, strange story of the bittersweet type, for those who enjoy such things.
You should also check out this story written by my aforementioned friend, it’s a work of genius.
Word count: around 1.6k words
TW&CW: implied character death, food mention, implied ableism (in passing, brief), please tell me if I should add more.
No one has ever eaten the moon – not for any particular reason, they just never thought of it as a thing a person could do. The moon was unreachable, its glow guiding people through the darkest hours.
Zarja did think of eating the moon. She thought of many things others didn’t bother to, just because someone had to.
She was a quiet child, and then a quiet young woman. She did the things she was asked to and did them well, and so, without much trouble, she got to the point in her life where she was supposed to choose what she’d do for the rest of it. She was asked what she wanted to do many times before, of course, and the answer she gave was always the same: “I want to learn what the world is and why it works the way it does.”
She thought this answer to be clear and sufficient. The others thought it was a display of childish curiosity she was bound to outgrow, and so, when the time came, she was asked again:
“what are you going to do now?”
“I will go see what the world is,” Zarja smiled. The next morning, she was gone, along with a few spare sets of clothing and a loaf of bread.
Another amazing commission of Lila and Lenù by Lady Turbalina. This one is inspired on a scene of the fic La hora del lobo, but it also serves as general compensation for all the bottled-up feelings (and gay thoughts silenced) in season 3. ️
