mikkmilk

for the @draco-tops-harry-discord-server acrostic word game prompt: Phone. WC: 347

“Perhaps you would like to see this in a different color?” The shop assistant suggested helpfully, eyeing the discarded stack of shirts and trousers threatening to topple off the nearby chair. “Or I could go and fetch something different. Something… a little more daring?”

He cut his eyes to the young man, daring seemed to be his forte. The tight red leather skirt ended several inches above his knees while the waistband rose high and was topped by a flowing black shirt with a fussy, floppy bow at the neckline. The outfit was completed by towering platform heels in shiny red that made the man stand several inches taller than Harry. 

“Okay, show me what you have in mind.” He took a sip from the champagne he’d been handed when he entered the store and screwed up his face.  He never had liked the stuff. The assistant returned a few minutes later, arms laden with colorful garments. “I think this one is perfect for you but I brought several for you to try if not” Nothing could have prepared Harry for the rush of power he felt when he looked in the dressing room mirror. The pleated black skirt was tiny, microscopic even, barely covering the curve of his arse. But it showed off his muscular thighs to their full advantage. The white button up top was almost demure if you discounted the fact that it was sheer enough that the dusky pink of his nipples shown through.  “I’ll take it,” he said immediately. A thrill of excitement ran through him at the thought of Draco’s reaction.  He checked his reflection one last time before stepping out of the dressing room.

The abandon corridor on the 4th floor of the ministry was dimly lit, the only sound was the distant hum of the elevator and the frantic beat of Harry’s own heart. They were barely able to slip away, voices still echoing in the distance, when Draco shoved Harry against the cool stone wall. One hand braced against the wall to Harry’s left while the other pressed firmly over Harry’s mouth. A muffled, involuntary whimper escaped against Draco’s palm

“Quiet,” Draco hissed, voice hot against Harry’s cheek. Harry’s breath stuttered against Draco’s hand. Before he could even register it, Draco leaned in close. “Make one sound and we’re dead.”

From up close, Harry could see Draco’s eyes; Pale, icy silver starlight edged with something deeper. The eyes that were once cold and cutting, burned with something raw and intense. This wasn’t his Malfoy. The man who found him bleeding, and drenched behind the ruins of Diagon Alley now looked at him like a ghost. Because in this world Harry Potter was supposed to be dead. Voldemort had won and began his rein over the wizarding world.

Yet here he was. Alive and so full of fire and fight, breathing rapidly against Draco’s skin and so utterly present that Draco couldn’t look away.

X: Where did you get that top, Harry?

Harry: Madam Malkins

X: But isn’t that a dress robe and cloaks-

Draco: Me, he’s talking about me

i love hiim!!!

Okay, I started an Instagram account, but I don't plan on being very active there (honestly, I'm still not used to it). But I really want to follow everyone who blogs there. If you're on Instagram and you're blogging about HP or Hogwarts Legacy, just let me know. I'll be stalking you!!! You don't have to follow me, just give me your nickname, I'm not kidding. Other people's blogs inspire me, so I'd love to follow everyone who's active in the fandom right now.

"Until you die"