Achilles’ Pile Of Fics

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My Ao3 is linked here so you can see what my writing is like :-)

New fic! Drarry! T4T! PWP!

You make me love the foolish things.

Saturday mornings curled up in bed, laughing at your untameable hair. How you snort when you’re laughing too hard to breathe right. Your holey jumpers. Your Christmas socks. Your undying love of treacle tart.

My 2021 lockwood and co garden Party fic! Written for @ironsilversaltandtea

Only ghosts still live in the Manor.

Harry knows it as soon as he opens the door. The huge entrance hall, once a place of agonising terror, is still and quiet as a muggle cathedral. Dust swirls beneath his feet, coats the back of his throat, haloes his lumos in an eerie cloud.

He’s not here, he’s gone, he’s really gone and I can’t find him, I can’t-

He breathes out, tells himself to act like an Auror, not a scared civilian.

Draco’s not here. The place has clearly lain like this since the war, a hulking tomb of itself. It was stupid to let himself hope, he tells himself fiercely. He’d known how much Draco despised the place, yet he let himself believe Draco would leave some sign, some trace behind. That he wouldn’t leave Harry without a word or whisper, a clue, a trail of breadcrumbs for him to trace. His chest aches furiously. He tells himself it’s the dusty air, that his stinging eyes are the same.