#wip excerpt
But so too do many stories start when filled with wayward teenagers and boring little towns surrounded by nothing, stuck dead center in the middle of nowhere. Young things struck with boredom feel dangerously susceptible to darker events. Adrenaline comes and goes. Goes, mostly. Leaving just about any teenager hungry to chase that rush over and over again. But what makes this a distinction from other tales you may have read, other stories with feral children and the emptiness within with they live, is a single word.
Accidental.
For when two children climbed into a rusted out, smoke spewing car within their home so fondly nicknamedNowheretown, Arizona, they did not intend to end a life. There was a hunger for excitement, but not brutality in their hearts at the creeping hour of midnight. Or was it one am? Or earlier even than that, simply somewhere within the twilight hours?
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SLOOM, 25k celebration excerpt.
From the depths she pulls one test tube, one envelope. Cradling them in the heat of her palm as she closes the freezer lid and, with rapid steps, heads back to the house away from the great cool emptiness of the seed vault’s guts.
Outside Oliver waits for her in the entrance, right beneath the house’s doorway. She bites back the urge to hesitate — the great instinct that he wouldn’t have waited for her when freedom without communication awaited him only some yards away.
They’ve done well so far, not discussing it. Ramona can imagine that he wouldn’t want to see her inevitably break that peace with the anxious ricochet in her mind.
“Here.” Their boots nearly scrape together. Her hand barely extended out, the final containers offered to him open palmed and barely trembling.
Oliver’s shoulders fall. A softness there, in the looseness of his jaw as his callused fingers take both vessels from her. A residue of contact lingers on her palm when he pulls away. With slowness he overturns them both in his hands, from the writing on each label to the non existent weight they bear.
“Is this Hebrew?” He asks her, holding the envelope up.
“Yeah. Beautiful, but it took awhile for me to translate it.”
“You didn’t write it down.”
“I…” Couldn’t, when opening the containers was already a profound sin. To damage their skins, disgrace them with her own graffiti — “just sort of remembered it. Those should be snap peas if I did it right. Some sort of pea, at least. The test tube has honeydew seeds.”
Oliver nods. They both vanish into the front pocket of his flannel, vanishing behind thick red fabric that hangs ever so slightly lower.
Against the heart. Figures. He seems to be one for profound symbolism. Doesn’t matter how small.
“Walk down carefully.” Ramona says after a moment passes, walking forward to take his place in the doorway as he steps down into the dirt.
“I will.”
“My radio— it’ll be on.”
Oliver chuckles. Shifts the weight on his back, where she can hear mason jars clanking between fabric and canvas. “I’ll give you a call, but it might take a few days. Keep an ear open for it.”
“Will do.”
“And hey,” over his shoulder, into the slow Spring breeze as he heads for cracked open gates so far away from the house, “thank you for humoring my stay.”
Ramona’s throat aches; with apologies and assurances and all the witty things she thinks of far too late for him to catch them before wind and weariness swallows them away. It leaves her silent. Only watching as he disappears through the crack between open gate doors, and into the forest beyond.
All at once the garden feels far too large, and perfectly like home.
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Derek stared at the grave in front of him, someone had brought his wife flowers recently.
It would probably have been his mother-in-law, she had absolutely destroyed when Beatrice had died.
His wife had suffered a long, drawn out illness. One that the doctors, no matter how much they tried, could not heal, until she finally lost her battle.
He decided against kneeling, the message he had for his wife could be said standing up, “You know Bea, I never thought that I’d be free of you.”
As soon as he spoke, the wind picked up and a Beatrice’s voice came from behind him, “And you never will.”
Viola did her best to not to scowl.
All around her, people dance, sang and talk in merriment at the formal induction of her brother, James as Crown Prince and Heir of their father’s kingdom.
It was a bitter cup to drink from.
It was a slap in the face, a constant reminder that her father did not think her worthy to follow in his steps. That she would never sit on the throne, even if she was the older of the two.
She stared at her plate, she could not go to her room and weep, so she did the next best thing, eat and drink.
Is anyone writing a novel / short story? Please share an excerpt from your WIP
An excerpt from one of my Greek mythology retellings, The Prince and The Sun:
“Why does it hurt so much?”
Leto was reminded suddenly of a time, aeons ago, during his brief childhood, when Apollo had nicked his arm on the sharp tip of an arrow. The graze had nearly healed by the time he had arrived in front of her, tears streaking his face like the ichor streaked his skin, the flesh already knitting itself back together. But he had buried his face in her lap and cried until the soft cotton of her chiton was damp and stained. All the while she had murmured soothingly, her fingers stroking through his golden hair, her heart aching for her child who had just realised for the first time that the world could hurt.
But this was no wound of flesh, no pain of the sort that a mother’s comfort could lessen. This cut deeper, and Leto did not know how to heal a broken heart.
Find the Word Tag
Thank you for the tag @fiercely-raging-writer
Crash(fromOur Forgotten Devils)
I take another worried glance over my shoulder. “Can’t you go any faster?” I ask.
“Not unless you want me to crash!” Alex says sharply.
The car pulls out and speeds up until it’s driving alongside us. I try to get a look at the driver, but the windows are tinted so dark I can’t see a thing. Whoever’s driving, they turn inwards, pushing hard into the side of us.
Burn(ed)(from Our Forgotten Devils)
“You look so much like your father.”
Abruptly, Alex drops her hands as if they’ve burned him. His flinch is slight but clearly visible nonetheless.
Scent(from Our Forgotten Devils)
Beneath the pervading scents of sandalwood and frankincense lies something else, something that I can’t quite place, but it makes me wrinkle my nose in disgust all the same. I feel like I should recognise it, but it’s too faint for me to determine what it is.
FuriousFury(from a micro-wip titled Clytemnestra’s Confession)
I needed to be over there, needed to see her, hold her, needed to snatch the dagger from Agamemnon’s hands and plunge it into his chest. But Achilles held fast, stubbornly refusing to let me go. I struggled and fought in vain until all my fury drained away and I slumped forwards, sobbing. When he finally let me go, I collapsed.
Open tag!
my muse: excerpt
“You are more to me than all art can ever be.” - Oscar Wilde, ‘The Picture of Dorian Gray’
Excerpt #1
James had never been one to wear his heart on his sleeve. He much preferred to keep it securely tucked inside his chest beneath the cashmere layers of his sweaters. He would likely never have spoken to Adrien at all, would’ve been too shy to even attempt it, had Adrien not chosen during one of the class tea breaks to speak to him first.
Before long, James had found himself looking forward to class in a way he never had before. Some mornings, he took the spiral stairs two at a time. He dreaded the moment of class ending almost as much as he longed for it, because Adrien always hung around afterwards for just a few moments to talk to him. And James had grown familiar with the envious glances of his classmates because, of all the interesting and talented people who milled around the studio, Adrien - bright, charming, vivacious Adrien - had chosen to speak to him.
That was the other reason why the prospect of submitting the painting tomorrow filled him with dread: it meant that the project was over, that Adrien’s job was finished, that James no longer had the means or the excuse to see him every other day.
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my muse:locations
The Moûsai Academy of Arts
An elite university for the study of the arts, including poetry, music, theatre, history, dance, and astronomy.
Excerpt:
The old building always took on a strange atmosphere after moonrise. There was something transient, something ethereal about it that gave one the inexplicable feeling of having somehow slipped into a different world. A world where moonlight shimmered through stained glass and cast subtle opalescent hues of blue and violet across a polished marble floor, where alabaster columns glimmered like white-gold and ivory.
The Studio
Excerpt:
Paintings hung high on the walls, the remnants of students from bygone years, forgotten moments in time captured in elegant brushstrokes and vibrant colours. Sculptures lined the shelves and topped the cabinets, images of the classical muses of art and inspiration standing proud alongside renaissance icons of creativity, each molded carefully from clay and decorated beautifully with a reverence that bordered on worship. Glass-fronted cabinets stood against the walls, filled with paints and oil pastels, pencils and charcoals. Rolled up sheets of blank canvas stacked in overflowing racks.
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One more chapter down, one more to go! Book One of the Panaysia series is almost finished and you can find the updated chapters this way!!!
Excerpt: "It seems the Prince hasn’t whipped that fight out of you,“ she sighed, "It doesn’t matter what I want from you. What matters is who you are, little Iris.” Her eyes glinted dangerously, and instinctively Iris took a step backwards.
“We have a lot to talk about,” she continued, adjusting her gown, and stretching out along the length of the couch. “You might as well take a seat.”
Link: https://www.wattpad.com/780563492-panasyia-book-1-twenty-one
It has been a hectic week and a bit but I have finally been able to update Panasyia!! Chapter seventeen is here!
Excerpt from the chapter:
"Don’t take my kindness for fragility,“ Keela continued, crossing her arms. "We have a system in Panasyia that works, but I still believe that pets are humans too. If they do something that deserves punishment, then so be it. But if they do not, then they should have the justice they deserve.”
I don’t know what I need right now. All I know is that I’m trying my best to be present, to act and do as I am supposed, to show up, to make a different, and to make an impact. But, I often wonder if I’m doing all of this for the right reason. Am I truly on the right path? I know the difference between good and evil, right and wrong, pressure and force. But, does this feel right to me? Am I happy where I am? Sometimes, I have trouble tapping into my own core or take heed from my source due to my focus on everything else. I don’t know what I need right now. But, I know I want to breathe a bit more. I want to go back to my roots. Get grounded in my culture. Get acquainted with this person that I am and also am becoming. Who are you? What are you about? What do you believe - about the world? about your surroundings? about yourself? I want to know all about you. How do you feel? Where have you been or where would you like to go? What are you doing or would like to do? What is your purpose, goals, and mission? I don’t know what I need. But, I know it’s not pain. It’s not sorrow. It’s not horror. It’s not degrading or disrespectful. It’s not disturbing or offensive. It isn’t greed or manipulation. I can seek it out and find it. I can live and arrive to it. It’s not necessarily today or even tomorrow. It just is, what it is. I don’t know what I need. But, what I truly need…I deserve and want it.
SUNLIT MAGE– excerpt: Hikaru and the cat
A snippet from chapter 5, which will be out on Tapas on Wednesday. Because we all love a good talking kitty cat, right?
A chirping meow snapped him out of his thoughts, and Hikaru paused. A tabby cat was standing only a few meters away, its bushy tail held aloft in greeting, gold eyes looking straight up at him.
Hikaru should be surprised, but he really wasn’t. The school grounds were heavily warded, but anyone had yet to invent a warding spell capable of keeping out cats. They were creatures of the barrier, and the very magic that held back others was their natural habitat.
“Hello,” Hikaru said softly, crouching down and instinctively slipping into his mother tongue. “What’s your name?”
The cat padded soundlessly closer, letting out another meow. He had only half expected to understand it, but in the end he wasn’t too surprised when he did.
“Finally, a human I can communicate with,” the cat said with a dry undertone to its voice. “You have no idea how tiring it is, hearing nothing but kissy noises and ‘pspsps’ all day long.”
Hikaru couldn’t help it; he cracked a small smile. “People are tiring, aren’t they?”
“A little, yes, but quite endearing in their stupidity. And at least they feed me.” The cat looked at him expectantly. “You don’t have any food for me, do you?”
At home Hikaru had always carried cat treats around in his pockets for when he spoke to the neighborhood cats. Here, however, he patted his pockets in vain. “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t expect to meet a cat here.”
“That’s on you, human. You should always expect to meet a cat anywhere.” Sitting down, the cat scratched its ear, then began to clean its fur. “But since I’ve missed speaking to humans, I’ll let it slide this once.”
“Sorry,” Hikaru said again. “Thank you.”
The cat’s whiskers twitched in what might have been amusement. “So where do you come from, little speaker?” it asked. “They don’t seem to have any humans with your skill around here.”
There hadn’t really been anyone back in Tokyo either—at least, anyone Hikaru knew—but he didn’t say that. “I’m from Japan,” he said.
“Hm. Not a bad country. Very fond of cats.” The cat paused its grooming routine. “By the way, can you speak to other animals too?”
Hikaru gave a nod. “I can speak to foxes, dogs, birds…”
“Birds? Excellent.” The cat got back up. “Tell the sparrows in the yard they don’t have to be scared of me, I’m not going to eat them. Not enough meat on their bones.”
Experience told Hikaru that cats were excellent and shameless liars, so he probably shouldn’t believe that and neither should the birds. But to avoid drawing the cat’s anger, he inclined his head in agreement anyway. “Okay,” he said. “I will do that.”
The cat suffered him to pet it for a moment in return, then trotted off in search of a sunny spot to nap in. Hikaru felt a little lighter already. Humans didn’t tend to like him much, true, but on the bright side, at least he was better with animals than anyone else.
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Excerpt from Sunlit Mage chapter 4.
Fellas, is it gay to obsess and feel jealousy over a guy who bested you one (1) time?
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Snippet from JELLIE chapter 45. Or, the one where I roast Nate Fairweather and Elise Jamieson all in one fell swoop.
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Meet Sol, Finnian’s teammate from the flying team. They only came to me this afternoon, but I think I’m keeping them.
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Sunflower Club Intro
Chapter 1
The small-framed girl clung onto her friend. He held her by the shoulders, preventing her from collapsing to the floor. Her limbs were frail and shapeless, like a ragdoll, as she stumbled forward.
She looked exhausted, they all did.
Seven people got out of the police wagon, they looked like children though they ranged from 16 to 19 years old. Their clothes were torn, covered in mud from head to toes. Faces and hands covered in small cuts.
It was early morning but the sun hadn’t risen yet.
The blue flashing light of the car gave an eerie look to the street as it danced around like a whirlpool.
The scene was so surreal it was like watching life through a filter.
One of the boys winced as he saw his distorted reflection in a window; his jaw was swollen and the cut under his eye was smeared with dried blood.
The maelstrom of blue made them look more ill and terrified than they already were.
It was like a nightmare with the gleam of a dream.
No matter where they looked, the sickening glow flooded the scene, absorbing every object.
There was no escape.
Everything was silent, or so it felt.
Somewhere in their mind a noise lingered, like the inaudible screech of ears ringing, a disharmonious melody, a requiem for the wicked that would never leave.
They stepped inside the station. Everything had the cotton-like feel of the hours that belonged neither to night nor day.
A policeman talked loudly and frantically pointed in a direction, numb and mindless they followed.
None of them knew what he had said.
There was only the ringing. The ringing and the beacon of unearthly blue.
Everything else was wrong.
Extrait de chapitres encore brouillons
“Quand on passe à côté de Noah pour sortir -je suis Gabriel, j’ai pas choisi le chemin- je m’assure de pas le regarder, mais mon dos est droit, comme si le poids qui écrase mon cœur de le voir avec l’autre cruche même si y passe son temps à me texter pis m’appeler. Dans la vitre de la porte, quand Gabriel l’ouvre, je peux voir que, au moins, mon ex à la décence d’avoir un peu l’air piteux.” - Elsie Léveillé
La base des chapitres 4 et 5…
Elsie est la grande soeur. Le roc, la colle, la deuxième mère. Elsie c'est la grande soeur, pis une grande soeur, c'est aussi se rendre compte que ce qu'on fait pour les autres, ça nous reviendra probablement jamais, me le faire quand même.
Elsie c'est une amoureuse de la vie, brimer dans son amour, mais qui décide de continuer d'aimer quand même, parce que aimer c'est la seule chose qu'elle peut faire.
Elsie se rend compte que vivre pour les autres, c'est pas la chose à faire. Mais vivre pour elle, en se moment, c'est un peu trop. Donc elle vit pour sa mère, son frère, sa soeur. Elle vit pour Sam et Gabriel. Mais pour elle, ça va prendre un petit moment encore…
Atlas: You’re an idiot, but you’re MY idiot
Iris: That’s somehow very comforting
Iris: I am many things. A dissapointment, a burden, a failure, a reckless idiot.
Atlas:But?
Iris, trying not to cry: That’s it
Draco pursed his lips together.
Finally, he spoke. “Harry, I think the Dark Lord wishes to mark me this summer. And have me inducted into his service.”
He watched as the light in Harry’s eyes dimmed. He watched as the other wizard’s shoulders sank, his entire body lowering several inches.
(Image 1, Prompt 25 of 25 Days of Draco and Harry: a sprig of mistletoe, tied together with a red ribbon, hanging in front of a wooden background.)
Part 1: 50 Shades of Red
“So, where are we going to have this…’party’?” Harry asked, expertly hiding his true reaction to Hermione’s invitation.
Hermione went slightly pink. “I was thinking…The Room of Requirement. You know…because it’s also called The Come and Go Room.”
Harry choked on his own saliva and Hermione laughed.
“You don’t have to come or even go to the party if you don’t want—”
“No, no, I dowant to come! GO. GO to the party, ” Harry assured his best friend whose eyes widened at Harry’s new-found enthusiasm and laughed kindheartedly at his slip-up. “I mean. I’m not like, obsessed, with the idea, you know me…I’m just…interested.”
“Uh huh,” Hermione nodded her brown eyes twinkling knowingly. “Interested in whom?”
It was Harry’s turn to go slightly pink. Or rather—crimson red. Hermione’s eyes went from soft, small, and twinkling to enormous saucers that challenged even Dobby’s most intense expression. “I WAS ONLY KIDDING— OH MY GOD! Who is it? Who did I say was coming that made you so eager to come!?”
Harry instantly went Gryffindor scarlet.
Hermione actually squealed and Harry rushed away from the Common Room to the dormitories—leaving his friend to go through the guestlist one more time alone. Now, as long as his roommate wasn’t there Harry would have some time to th—
“Hey, Potter.”
Harry stopped in his tracks and sucked in his breath. Then he let it out in a cool exhale, trying to disguise the fact that Malfoy had just caught him off guard. Sitting on his bed. Doing his homework. In their dorm-room.
“Yooo,” Harry said, slyly putting his hand to the back of his hair and posing casually in the doorway. Posing. Casually. Harry looked down at his body. What he was doing was far from posing. And far from casual. His body looked like the Whomping Willow trying to reach an itchy spot. He noticed Malfoy biting his lip as he quirked an eyebrow at Harry “chilling” in the doorway.
“You…alright?”
Harry blinked in response. Even though he and Malfoy had been on friendly terms since the end of the War when they had been preparing for Malfoy’s trial together, it still shocked him sometimes when his former archnemesis Draco Malfoy showed any interest in Harry’s well-being.
Harry quickly dropped his hand and stood normally in the doorway, like any other wizard. Wix. He was still practicing that…
**
Read the full story here:
https://archiveofourown.org/works/27827017/chapters/69404286
Ted put his finger to his mouth. “Shh! Scorpius, you don’t want them to catch us, do you?”
Scorpius glared at the older wix and said in a loud whisper, “Swytherins are naturawy steawthy.” He stepped on a particularly noisy floorboard that let out a long c-r-e-a-a-a-a-k.
Ted’s eyes widened in surprise as Scorpius whispered, “Whoops.” Ted put his hand to his mouth to stifle a laugh.
“That wasn’t very Slytherin, was it?”
“Oh, be quiet, Teddy!” Scorpius pouted, as the five-year-old did whenever Ted teased him about the potential of not being a Slytherin like his Maddy.
“Hey, Scor?”
Scorpius ignored Ted, his arms crossed in front of him, his lower lip turned over and chin jutted out in a stubborn expression.
Ted sighed. “I’m sorry I made you upset. You know…you could still be in Gryffindor like Daddy. And Daddy’s really cool, too!”
Scorpius harrumphed.
Ted sighed in frustration at his little brother. They were never going to get downstairs to sneak a peek at the presents. He just HAD to know if he was getting the new Firebolt 360. It was all he’d been thinking about for months, and all he’d written home about the first months of his Fifth Year leading up to Christmas, so he hoped his parents had taken the hint.
But Ted just couldn’t sleep, not knowing. He’d convinced Scorpius to sneak down with him under the pretense that they might catch Father Christmas in the act. Then, if they did get caught, he could use the younger wix as a scapegoat and no one would know how impatient he was. A Malfoy never shows their impatience. Ted snorted at the thought. It was something Grandma Cissy said, but his Maddy was probably the most impatient wix Ted had ever met.
“Come on,” Ted said, getting down to his brother’s level. “You don’t want to miss Father Christmas, do you?”
Scorpius’ face turned sharply back towards Ted. It was as if he’d forgotten all about their mission. “No!”
“Shh!” Ted reminded him.
Scorpius screwed up his face and nodded.
“Okay. Let’s go…”
**
Read full story here:
https://archiveofourown.org/works/27827017/chapters/69337890
Tags/Warnings:
Confident Draco Malfoy living his best life, medicinal and recreational marijuana use, years-long pining coming to fruition, so much love and fluff, Draco helped Harry during the Battle of Hogwarts (throwing Harry his wand, etc.)**
He had a plan. He was a Slytherin. He always had a plan. A scheme. He was going to tell him he looked beautiful, laughing in the snow. Yes, it was a strange way to start a conversation after not seeing each other for three years, but something told him it would be okay. Something inside him was urging him to just take the leap, and say at least some of the words he’d been keeping to himself since he was eleven years old. Some words he was sure to hold back….but Draco had been wanting to confess this since he’d first seen Harry in Madam Malkin’s that fateful day in Diagon Alley. The day he fell in love with the Boy-Who-Lived and was destined to pine after him from that moment on. All in secret—until now. Until this moment.
Draco’s life was brilliant. His love for himself was so much purer than it had been in his school-age years and even in the year after the war. Now, he was bursting with love and ready to give some of it to someone else…and he was sure he knew who that someone else was, as he looked at Harry’s bouncy, wild black hair and lightning bolt scar making their way towards him across the ice. He was an angel. Draco laughed at the cheesy thought—but it was true. Harry smiled when he saw Draco laughing and the two finally reached each other, approximately two feet of ice still between them. Draco had walked onto the rink in his trainers, he’d been drawn in as if by some magnetic force surrounding the other man. When he met Harry’s eye, the former Gryffindor raised his eyebrows. “You are fucking high, right now, aren’t you?” he asked, amusement colouring his words.
Draco renewed his laughter, and Harry joined him, shaking his head in disbelief. “A Malfoy, really? In public, like this?” Harry’s tone was light and playful.
“Honestly, it’s done wonders for me—smoking pot I mean, not being in public,” Draco clarified, and Harry’s laughter rang in his ears again. It was one of the most amazing sounds Draco had ever heard.
“Same, same,” Harry said. “I mean, when the psychiatrists don’t give a shit about you and nothing seems to actually work against the anxiety except the cannabis, you do what’s right for you, you know?”
They’d barely been speaking for 60 seconds, and both Draco and Harry had revealed something quite personal about themselves and their mental states. Their miraculous ability to be open and raw with each other so immediately did not go unnoticed by either of them, and they both blushed.
“So…what are you up to?” Draco asked. He remembered his scheme, sure. But he had to lead up to it; it was only logical.
“Oh, just skating with Ron and Hermione. It’s a Christmas Eve tradition of ours.”
“That sounds lovely.”
Harry’s eyes widened, obviously shocked at hearing such a word come out of his mouth. He’d always used words such as “lovely” but never in his presence.
“Would you like to…join us?” Harry invited him, and the Snitches returned to Draco’s stomach in full force.
“I—would love that.” Draco nodded, accepting the invitation.
“You’ll need some skates…I’m sure Hermione can transfigure some for you.”
“That sounds perfect.”
Harry chuckled. “Come on.” He reached out his hand to Draco, who took it, his heart pounding in his chest.
Harry was about to lead him back towards Weasley and Granger when Draco said, “Harry?” Draco felt breathless. He was going to say it. And they were still holding hands.
“Yes? Er…Draco?”
He dove in. “I was watching you, laughing there with your friends in the snow, and—” Draco trailed off and took a deep breath, regaining the courage to complete his thought. “And you looked beautiful.” A thought occurred to him. “You still look beautiful, now, of course!” Feeling he was absolutely done for, Draco continued digging himself a bigger hole, “Not just now! I mean in general you do, too, I just meant…specifically just now you looked—”
Harry was biting his lip, trying unsuccessfully to suppress his laughter as Draco stumbled over his words and rambled away, confessing much more than he’d expected. This was not really the plan. Draco had to laugh at himself—grateful he was at a place in his life now that he didn’t have to die in embarrassment but could enjoy this little blunder. Not very Slytherin-like, he had to admit.
A loud pecking on glass startled Draco out of his memory. Harry jolted awake and ran to the window. An owl waited, attempting to hold itself upright, a brown box wrapped with a brown string tied in a bow in its beak.
The window shot open as Harry reached towards it and the owl flew in to drop the parcel into Harry’s waiting hands.
“Thanks,” Harry whispered to the owl and pet the soft feathers on its head. The owl cooed and nibbled at his finger affectionately.
Draco felt his heart flutter at the kindness Harry showed the creature. He’d always been especially fond of owls.
When the bird took off, Harry shut the window with a wave of his hand and turned back towards the bed.
“Ah!” Harry startled to see Draco awake and looking at him. He fumbled the package, but caught it just in time.
Draco made an undignified squeak in response, just as shocked at Harry’s reaction to him. At hearing Draco’s squawk, Harry burst out laughing.
“I’m—I’m sorry,” he said, gasping for air. Draco’s eyes narrowed and Harry caught his breath.
“I am! I just… didn’t know you’d be there. Like, awake already, I mean,” Harry said with another burst of laughter.
“Cut it out, Potter, it’s not that funny.” Draco’s cheeks began to flush.
“Sorry,Malfoy, but it is! That squawk…” Harry placed the package on the fluffy white chair next to the window and wiped a tear from his eye. “Classic. Just classic. Like one of your mum’s white peacocks startled out of its wits—”
“Alright, that’s enough,” Draco huffed. “Oh, for Mer—Merlin knows why I love you. Now get over here with that package. What is it?”
“It’s a surprise. From your mum.”
Draco raised his eyebrows.
“You’re not serious?”
“I’m not. I’m his Godson.”
Draco groaned and rolled his eyes. He’d walked right into that one and couldn’t fault Harry for taking the opportunity. Draco regained his composure.
“Open it,” Harry said, his excitement radiating out of every part of him.
“You know what this is!”
“I most definitely do. Come on, hurry up!” He placed his hands on Draco’s knees, holding him as Draco lifted his index finger and made a sharp movement upwards in the air. The brown string snapped and Draco reached forward to undo the spellotape on the edges. He could feel Harry’s excitement through the bond. “Stop touching me, you’re going to spoil the surprise!”
“Sorry!” Harry pouted, moving his hands away and stepping about a foot backwards, hoping to not inadvertently send any images telepathically to Draco about what was in the box.
Finally, Draco was able to lift the lid. Inside, he found a weathered grey and white speckled plant pot. It had a sleek, tapered silhouette and engraved on one side were the words “La Belle.” As he read the words in his mind, his lips subconsciously mouthed them and he felt his breath catch in his throat.
“Draco, what’s wrong?” Harry’s hand was back on his knee in an instant. The thought rushed through the bond and echoed in Draco’s mind. You haven’t even read the note inside yet. Draco was too preoccupied by the meaning of the words on the outside of the pot to be able to consider the note Harry was thinking about.
“N-nothing is wrong,” Draco got out. “It’s just…Oh, Harry…” Teardrops fell from his eyes, and Harry squeezed his knee. “These words…it’s French for ‘The Beautiful,’ but she wrote La, not—” Draco’s voice cracked, and he couldn’t finish his thought.
Harry did for him. “That’s… the feminine spelling? Isn’t it?” Draco nodded, still incapable of speech.
Harry wrapped his arms around his lover. “She loves you. She loves all of you, sweetheart.”
Draco took a couple deep breaths and swallowed hard. “She does. And this is the perfect way she could have told me that…”
**
Read full story here:
https://archiveofourown.org/works/27827017/chapters/69207969
“Potter! Where are you?!”
Harry sighed and rolled his eyes. “Dragana, you know very well I am in the en suite bathroom getting ready for our Christmas party.” He continued checking himself out in the mirror, ensuring his hair was still in place from the new potion he was trying out.
Click-clack, click-clack came Dragana’s heels as she strode across the bedroom and into the bathroom as Harry turned to look at her.
She was radiant in her long royal blue sweetheart gown. The strapless bodice sparkled with crystals in an intricate and stunning beaded design, transitioning into a full tulle skirt, beads trickling down it.
“Turn around,” Harry asked, but it didn’t sound like a question.
Dragana huffed and put her hands—which were covered in arm-length silver gloves—on her hips.
“Are you ready yet?”
“I’m nearly ready, yes, my love. Please. Will you turn for me?” Harry bit his lip and spoke in his sweetest voice.
Dragana’s face flushed but she dropped her arms and spread them in front of her as she did a slow twirl. Harry’s mouth dropped in awe as his eyes caught sight of the blue ribbons lacing up the back of the bodice.
“You’re absolutely beautiful,” Harry said when Dragana had completed her twirl, arms still outstretched.
Dragana’s face, which had been a light pink, turned scarlet. “Thank you,” she mumbled, and stepped forward, welcoming Harry into her arms.
“You’re nervous,” Harry said. This wasn’t a question—he felt it in the way her heart pounded in her chest against his.
“I’m fucking terrified that’s what I am,” Dragana admitted.
“Everyone who is coming already knows Dragana’s coming. They’re expecting you.”
“I know. I know. And I want to show them how amazing I am, I’m just…not sure…if I’ll be successful.”
Harry shook his head. “Sweetheart, we have already succeeded. Come.” They released each other. “Let’s go down together.” He held out a hand for Dragana who took it, steadying herself. She then interlaced her fingers with Harry’s. The silk gloves between his fingers whispered dirty promises and Harry shivered. “I’m so happy. Tonight is going to be momentous!” Harry exclaimed as they turned to make their way down the hall, down the stairs, and to the main floor.
Dragana raised an eyebrow.
“S-i-r-i-u-s—ly,” Harry said. “Molly still cannot believe that I have stolen Christmas from her, but she has no idea how magnificent and magical the first Potter-Malfoy Christmas party is going to be.”
Dragana giggled. “Especially with the Christmas crackers I’ve chosen for everyone…”
Harry mock-scoffed, “Excuse me? You really think you have a chance against me?”
Dragana renewed her laughter. “Ha! Yes, I really do, sweetheart. In fact— I bet you.”
Harry stopped abruptly causing the two of them to lose balance and Dragana to trip on her tulle skirt.
“Potter! ” Dragana snarled. She scooped the skirt up with a flourish and inspected it for harm. Seeing nothing, she huffed and let it fall. The tulle floated back down to the floor and Dragana punched Harry in the arm.
“Ouch!”
“Do you know how much I love this dress?”
“I’m sorry, I was just taken aback is all. What did you say?” Harry had definitely forgotten by now.
Dragana sighed and placed her hands on her hips and Harry’s cock twitched.
“I was saying: I’m willing to bet you that our friends and loved ones are going to go absolutely rogue Bludger when they receive my Christmas crackers. Whatever you have got, no matter how hard you may have tried, will ever live up to what I’ve got in store.”
Harry bit his lip, flushing. “I wouldn’t count your Snitches, my little prince…” His voice was soft and Dragana had to lean in to hear him properly.
When she’d caught the words, raised her eyebrows, “I’m quite confident, sweetheart. And I do bet you. I bet you…one wish.”
“A…wish?”
“You heard me. Whoever ends up having the most beloved Christmas crackers not only gets free reign for every future Malfoy-Potter Christmas Party—”
“Mm-hmm?”
“—but is also entitled to one wish to be granted by the LOSER,” Malfoy’s lips rounded saucily around the letters of the word “loser” and Harry’s cock twitched again—he imagined her lips in a round “Ohhhhhhh!” around it.
“Are you even listening to me?” Dragana was snapping her fingers to get Harry’s attention.
“Of course, I am,” Harry consoled her. “One wish. Okay! I’m with you there. The loser has to grant one wish for the person who’s Christmas cracker is the most marvelous, the most magnificent, most magical—”
“Potter, for fuck’s sake, we both get the picture. Now shake on it.”
“Not this time,” Harry said. “Kiss!”
Dragana rolled her eyes, but placed her hands on Harry’s cheeks, leaning in to give him a deep, sloppy, contract-binding smooch.
Rating: E
** <3 **
Harry whispered in Dray’s mind: You’re so good, my sweet princess.
He noticed how Dray nearly opened her eyes in astonishment at the unexpected presence of Harry in her mind, but quickly regained composure.
“Yes, you are such an obedient princess, aren’t you? You may respond.”
“Yes, sir. I want to be good for you.”
“And that pleases me. Now. Please open your eyes.” Dray did. “As gorgeous as you are, my love, I think it’s about time we take this off. I want you to strip—slowly. Now.” Harry said as Dray’s hands flew to the cape at her chest.
Dray’s hands slowly unbuttoned the faux fur. Harry couldn’t stand waiting. “Stop,” he demanded, and Dray did, slightly startled. “Too slow. Hands at your sides.”
Dray complied, her eyes glazed, obviously sunken into subspace already.
“Permission to speak, sir?”
Harry grinned. “Permission granted.”
“Please don’t rip anything off of me today…this dress—”
“That’s enough,” Harry cut her off. “You’ve made your request. And your request will be granted. If—” Harry quirked an eyebrow, “you remain a good girl. Now, you can do that, can’t you?”
Dray’s eyes lit up and she smiled nodded vigorously and straightened up, as if to better show Harry how good she could be.
Harry stroked the soft white fur around Dray’s chest with the back of his fingers. It tickled his skin and Harry sighed at the feeling, slipping his fingers to the hidden buttons at the back and undoing them, one by one.
Dray whimpered as Harry slid the fur down her skin, letting it hit the floor with a softswoosh. This revealed the scarlet red dress, hugging Dray’s hips, which Harry’s hands immediately enveloped. He gently caressed her sides, her back, her now bare arms, and relished every second their skin was in contact…
**
Read full story here:
https://archiveofourown.org/works/27827017/chapters/69039111
Trans/Gender Fluid Draco (Dray, she/her pronouns in this scene)
**
“I have a gift for you.” Dray withdrew a particularly gorgeous gift and gave it to Harry.
“Dray, you know it’s not Christmas yet,” Harry playfully chastised, but he was more than excited about getting a Christmas gift earlier—especially if it was related to them going to the bedroom.
“Well,” Dray licked her bottom lip in a way that made Harry’s cock stir again. “It’s actually a gift for both of us.”
“Is it?” Harry quirked an eyebrow, his interest thoroughly peaked. “Well, then…I suppose I could make an exception. Just this once,” he said with a wink. He carefully untied the golden ribbon and delicately tore off the individual pieces of Spellotape, letting the paper slowly separate from the box.
Dray could barely contain her excitement as Harry opened the box tantalizingly slowly.
“Come on! Just tear it open!” She placed her hand on his arm and pushed him playfully.
“Patience, young Prince, or I might have to tear you open.” Harry threatened.
Dray’s voice whispered in his head: “That’s the idea…”
Upon hearing those words, Harry changed his tactic and ripped the paper off, relishing in the satisfying tearing sound. Inside he found a plain, black box with a lid, which Harry gingerly removed.
Harry would never have guessed what would be found in the confines of such a nondescript box. Inside, resting upon some gold and silver tissue paper, Harry’s eyes landed on a sexy silicone double-ended dildo…
*
Read the fully story:
https://archiveofourown.org/works/27827017/chapters/68937144
Harry had just finished decorating the cookies for the annual Potter-Malfoy Christmas Party. He admired the stockings and gingerbread men, perfectly frosted with red, green, and white icing…
Harry had to admit, he was getting good at this. Harry conjured some candles and summoned the treacle tart, berry and pumpkin pies from the kitchens and skillfully set the table. The tablescape wouldn’t be up to Draco’s standards, he knew that. But he knew, just like his cookie decorating skills, he was getting a lot better at decorations and table settings.
He felt arms wrap around his middle from behind and sighed contentedly as lips pressed against his cheek. “It’s Dray, today,” the wix whispered in his ear and Harry nodded, his eyes closed in order to better heighten his other senses as he turned to kiss his lover. He teased himself in his imagination, wondering what Dray might look like today— it was the Christmas Party, after all, and he knew Dray loved fancy silk things.
Harry hummed softly, savoring the kiss for a moment longer before pulling away, eyes still closed.
“They?”
“She. And any honorifics you should choose.”
Intrigued, Harry opened his eyes and finally caught sight of Dray. His eyes bulged and he didn’t even attempt to stop the huge grin now spreading across his face. “Like ‘My Absolutely Gorgeous Prince’ who looks fucking radiant in that gown?”
Dray chuckled and stepped back to give a twirl. The scarlet Christmas gown fell straight to the floor and was covered by a brilliant long-sleeved, floor length cloak which trailed a couple of feet behind her in a sweep train which reminded Harry of Dray’s wedding dress. This gown, however, was much more festive: a crimson velvet cloak trimmed in white faux fur. The soft fur trim ran down both edges of the cape to meet in the center of Dray’s chest before separating again to reveal the scarlet gown hugging her hips.
“I—I can’t even, Draco. Dray,” Harry corrected himself and Dray grinned brightly. She looked more delectable than Harry’s cookies.
“You are so beautiful,” Harry complimented her. “Too bad it’s gonna have to come off…”
Read the full story here (and take a look at that gown ;) ):
https://archiveofourown.org/works/27827017/chapters/68885568
<3 xo <3
“Are you sure this is safe?!” Dragana held Harry tightly around the middle, face buried between his shoulder blades. The two wixen had just lifted off from Grimmauld Place for a romantic midnight ride on Harry’s Firebolt, and Dragana was not convinced that this was the smartest idea her reckless Gryffindor had ever had. Granted, Harry’d had way worse.
But those past decisions weren’t what terrified Dragana, 20 meters in the air, unable to shake the horrible image of falling to the cold, hard ground. Yes, there was a fresh cushion of snow, and yes, she trusted Harry, but two grown people on a broomstick? It was not an easy feat.
“Oy, Dragana, loosen up, will you? Ow!” He patted at her white-knuckled hands clasped around his waist.
“Sorry, love.” Dragana loosened her grip and took a few deep breaths.
“Let me cast the balancing and stasis charms—” Harry did so with a flip of the wrist.
“There. It should feel a lot more secure now. Dray—Dragana?”
“I’m fine, Potter, stop worrying.”
“Having fun yet, Malfoy?” Harry teased.
“Sod off,” Dragana muttered, but she wasn’t irritated in the slightest. Now that she was certain of the Firebolt’s security under Harry’s charms, she pulled her hair loose from her ponytail, her long silver-blonde hair rushing past her shoulders and landing in delicate curls. “Nearly ready.”
“Mm-hmm,” Harry hummed, “Take your time, sweetheart.”
After just another moment, Dragana kissed Harry on the neck, pleasantly surprised at how warm the man’s skin was under his jacket collar.
Harry’s left hand was casually extended forward, gripping the exquisite broom handle. The veins in his arm were accentuated by the firelight coming from the lantern they had magically affixed about a foot from the handle’s edge. Harry’s right arm reached around and gently squeezed Dragana’s thigh. Dragana felt her heart begin to hammer in her chest. This had been such a magnificent idea, except…
“Harry, this midnight ride is one of the most romantic ideas you’ve had in awhile—”
“Codswallop, Malfoy,” Harry playfully sniped, “I have romantic ideas every day and you know it.”
“You’re right,” Dragana backpedaled, “I just meant, this is particularly splendid—you really outdid yourself this time, spoiling me. I don’t deserve this.” She tapped Harry on the shoulder so he would turn to face her. When he had, Dragana batted her eyelashes at him, and Harry couldn’t help but laugh.
“Mm-hmm, go on. I’m listening.” Harry turned back to watch where they were flying.
“But you see…it is Rosh Chodesh, the New Moon, and…it is quite dark, wouldn’t you say?”
“Dragana, I am appalled,” Harry deadpanned. “There’s a lantern right here in front of us.”
“I see it, Harry, I’m not blind, you kn—”
“And that upgraded laser charm on my eyes from last time we were at St. Mungo’s has been doing absolute wonders for my nighttime flying. You had no idea we were going the wrong way for the first two minutes of our journey before I deftly maneuvered us back on track.”
“Oh, for the love of Merlin, please, shut up, I can’t take it anymore,” Dragana begged.
Harry chuckled, but changed the subject. “It’s Rosh Chodesh, you say? Have you set your intentions for the New Moon?”
“Of course, Potter, you know I prepare days in advance.”
Potter snorted. “I know, Dray.”
“And what about you? Any seeds you’re hoping to plant this month?”
Harry pondered this. “I want to be open to anything and everything,” he stated finally. “I feel as if…the world is our oyster now. You know what I mean?”
“I know exactly what you mean,” Dragana said. They enjoyed a moment of stillness of Midnight, connecting with the Elements around them, and released their New Moon intentions into the darkness.
When he sensed they were both finished, Harry asked,“Do you have the radio?”
“Oh, yes! Of course— I’ll get it.” Dragana reached into her pocket for the Expandable Bag, and pulled out the gayest radio. To be more specific, this gay radio was queer as fuck. It was rainbow (black, brown, red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple) on one side and trans pride on the other (blue, pink, white, pink, blue).
As Dragana started turning the dial, trying to find some music, a thought occurred to her.
“You alright, baby?” Harry must have noticed Dragana’s change in demeanor as the thought floated in her mind. “Something wrong?” Harry stroked Dragana’s thigh.
“No, nothing. I was just thinking…we don’t have a song.”
“Oh, I see,” Harry said, his tone serious. “That…might be true.”
“Might be? Harry, we definitely don’t have a song. I would remember…”
**
Read full story here:
https://archiveofourown.org/works/27827017/chapters/68775597
