Intersum

#intcrsum, written by Glow, trans he/him 30+ GMT -5, this is an Independent Semi-Selective Low-Activity Draco Malfoy Roleplay from the Harry Potter Franchise. Novel inspired, compatible with movies to an extent. Second Seventh Year or Eighth Year main verse. Anti JKR. No CRRD. Discord available to mutuals upon request.

                   Bio || Guidelines || Verses || Interest Tracker                Drafts: 3, Starters: 3, Asks: 1, Threads: 15, Plotting: 2

@candere​ asked:  ❛ wait, is that mistletoe? ❜ (from Harry)

Accepting ⚗ Late Meme Edition

          A silver-white brow quirks upwards at Harry’s question, his head cocking to the side as he looks to the mistletoe in question. The strands of his slicked back hair caress the nap of his neck. Silently looking at the plant, he hadn’t noticed it when he first chose to stand there. The holiday gathering was obviously affecting him more than he thought it was, if he’d been able to unwittingly find himself beneath a mistletoe of all things. Not that he’d ever admit to that fact willingly. His grey eyes peer at the other teen, an almost unnoticeable amusement colours his expression & voice. “Did you put it there, Pottah?” 

     If Harry had done so, he would probably be even more amused, the very act would be so Slytherin, something he would have done himself if he had the idea first. Not that he had a target in mind for such a thing.

      “Far be it for me to ignore your efforts.” His voice has a slight hint of mockery to it, it sounds more playful than he would have liked, but still, he steps closer. Close enough to place a chaste kiss at the edge of the other’s lips. Lingering longer than he intends, he pulls back slightly, his eyes flick to their onlookers. It was comical how easily they gather with the mention of mistletoe in Potter’s presence. 

Whether Lucius Malfoy truly loved his son or not, Harry had no way of telling. Seemed like Draco was very adamant about it though. If there was one good thing he had to say about the Malfoys, it was that they stuck together. It had been quite astonishing how Narcissa hadn’t left Lucius a long time ago, though perhaps she may have just stuck around for Draco. 

Either way, Draco’s anger just didn’t feel as rewarding and satisfying as it used to be. Harry used to thrive on the antagonism between them. The angrier Draco was, the better. But after almost killing Draco and after everything that had happened during the war, Harry found their dynamic to have changed, even if both of them tried their hardest to pretend like it didn’t. It scared him a little. What was he supposed to do about this? How was he supposed to act? He didn’t want to show vulnerability to Draco but perhaps it was too late for that anyways. Harry had been nothing but vulnerable during the entire course of the war.

Harry decided to deflect any talk about possible career choices and instead focus on the actual issue at hand. He swallowed, brow still furrowed but his tone was much softer than it had been mere moments ago. “Look..we both have nightmares, and we both know it.” Sometimes Draco woke Harry, sometimes Harry woke Draco. “It’s..it’s okay to have nightmares. I just..do you want to talk about it? Maybe we can help each other.”

He didn’t like this at all, being so open with Draco, but he somehow trusted him and he hoped the trust wasn’t misplaced. What Harry needed now was compassion and not more ridicule. His concern for Draco was genuine and he somehow knew that Draco too had need for actual care. “I dream about the war all the time and it just doesn’t seem to get any better. I feel it only gets worse.”

          Something felt different, Draco wasn’t sure what it was exactly, but it was just different. Maybe it was the fact that he’d left it open for an argument, their encounters always made it easy to argue & it hasn’t turned into one. Both of them knew just how to get a rise from the other with little to no effort. Was that what it was? He’d already noticed a difference after the war, but he had too much on his mind at the time to pay attention to how much. 

     Draco was able to keep the urge to press his lips together & look at the other man searchingly in check. He did give Harry a knowing look however, aware of the fact the other hadn’t responded to more than one of their topics, or the point he’d made. He shouldn’t be as curious about it as he is, he knows that, so he lets his curiosity fall to silence. It’s refreshing.

      Or at least it was refreshing until Harry picks the subject of their nightmares, why continue that topic of all things? He almost sighs at the very thought of it, the action freezing in his throat when Harry poses the idea of them helping each other. 

     Speechless, Draco blinks at him in shock. That had been the last thing he’d thought the other would mention, let alone offer. Had things changed so drastically? He knew things had changed, just from the fact they weren’t picking fights with each other as their usual, why wasn’t he aware that it was this drastic? Or was the suggestion a peace offering in a way? Silence met Harry, as Draco considers. He honestly had no idea how he’d react if he did share. His parents know, it’s hard keeping something like that away from them. Sharing… could damage whatever it was they were building upon this year. 

             …Would talking help them? Or would it make things more difficult?

     On the other hand, if they do help each other with it, it could make things stronger. He wasn’t sure what to call what they currently had… Allies? Friends? Before he could figure out an answer, Potter was already speaking. He reaches out & closes his books, moving them out of the way so he could give the other his full attention. “I dream of Nagini.” He says simply before running his hand through his hair, tugging the strands back. “Did you want to share or to discuss them? I’m… I’m not sure how… smoothly things will go if we discuss it.”

          Draco finally has time to himself after the years of quick paced apprenticeships, finding himself walking the streets of Dragon Ally. The new shops on the streets were surprisingly refreshing to see, not sure what he’d expected when he decided to come here, only knowing there was an apothecary he’d heard a lot of things about over the last few years. The fact that it was owned by Longbottom makes him all the more intrigued. 

     “Longbottom.” Draco greets politely, grey eyes looking around the shop before they curiously look at the other man. “Do you have ingredients or other items in the back?” He was asking for hard to get alchemy ingredients, but he doesn’t state as much. Leaving it simple. Not sure if Longbottom wants him in his shop, even after all those years.

           Draco’s sitting on the patio, in the late evening, taking in the soothing breeze with a scorching hot mug full of coffee grasped between his hands. He hasn’t taken a sip just yet, lightly blowing at the steam as he lets the heat warm him. 

     There was no telling who else was awake at that hour, not bothering to check as he’d silently walked the halls, avoiding key rooms, to make himself the fresh mug to take the edge off the biting cold. He’d given up on the prospect of going back to sleep when his nightmares wake him months before. 

     Grey eyes moving up from the distance when he hears another approaching. Tipping his head in a polite greeting. “Wagner.” He holds in the urge to look at the other mutant in a more inspecting way, not wishing to be rude, looking back to his mug before taking his first careful sip. ”There should be coffee left in the pot.” He’d used magic to work the machine, it was easier than trying to figure it out. Not that he knew if Kurt wanted a mug, but the offer was made just the same.

@proditeur​ asked:  ‘you’ve never really lived at all.’

Accepting ⚗ Late Meme Edition

           That very statement moves Draco’s thoughts unbiddenly to the tattoo boring into his forearm. It causes him to pause, practically freezing at the words as sporadic emotions course through him. They flicker over his face as he gives Remus a startled look. Draco had thought he’d had those emotions under control after the war. He was less guarded around family, that could be the reason the sadness, fear & anger that runs through him like a whirlwind. 

     He has to mentally fight to keep it all under control, he spent enough time festering on the darker years within his mind he does wish to go there within that moment. It feels like the silence drags on as he does so, finally letting out a long breath. 

           It was hard to breathe, why was it hard to breathe? His eyes stun, he has to hold in the urge to rub at the soreness. He knew Moaning Myrtle was speaking, that he was responding but his mind wasn't following the words, too distracted by the harshness of his own voice. His heart is pounding, the noise of it nearly drowns out everything except his voice. He’s desperate to get rid of the tight feeling within his chest, to turn back time for a moment of peace where the knowledge that his actions would be the deciding factor if his family survives the year. 

     Draco is aware that the ghost wants to help, that she wants him to admit what haunts him. He can’t. He can’t push the words past his lips, the very thought of speaking those words makes the large bathroom feel so very tiny. As if the walls could crumble within seconds & bring the ceiling bearing down with the smallest of sounds. Turning on the tap, Draco splashes his face with water a few times, trying to relieve some of the sting. It doesn’t work, the coldness of the water only sending a jolt of awareness through him, a shiver from it moving through him.

       The sounds of his heavy pants fills his ears even as his hands rub the cold water over his face. He wishes Myrtle would stop talking, each time he calms she says something, causing his anxiety to spike back upwards. He grips the edge of the sink the second he notices the tremble in his hands, trying desperately to stop it even as his mind pushes his conversation with Myrtle farther away. Struggling to get his mind to focus so he could think of something, anything, so he can do what he needs to, he ends up jerking at a random sound. Why was it so loud? It shouldn’t be that loud. His grey eyes jump to the mirror bright with fear, his body tightening as if to brace himself. Expecting to see Professor Snape, there isn’t any relief to be found when he sees Potter. Tipping his head down, he doesn’t turn around, his body stiff as he silently hopes his voice is steady. “Bugger off, Pottah.”

Loneliness of the Mask