Ur local Slytherpuff writing microfics

The sound of a cupboard rattling. An open cupboard door flashes in and out of Seamus’s vision as he looks up, alarmed, and then a body slams into him from behind and brings him down, down.

He hits the floor with a loud thud. He groans, his heart thumping in his chest.

Months and months of bone crushing hugs from Dean every night, of jumping or twitching at small sounds and sudden movements. Seamus has gotten used to sudden frights by now, and the feeling of constantly receiving small touches, being looked at. Dean does the touching and the looking more than any one of his friends. Maybe because Dean means more to him than anyone else. Maybe because Dean’s days as nothing but a friend to Seamus are over.

It isn’t the painful collision with the floor that does it. No matter how much one might think they have healed after a war, the sight of your best friend’s— your boyfriend’s dead body is enough to send you into wild panic. And that wild panic is enough to send you back in time, with forceful hands around your throat and covering your eyes. Suddenly he’s back in time by months. He’s in war, he’s somewhere he never were and never will be, but it feels more real than anything he ever actually went through during those months in hell.

“Dean! Dean!”

Dean’s dead body lying on the floor in front of the cupboard… twisted in angles that should be impossible for every living thing to reach, every living thing— “Dean, DEAN!”, he yells— Dean is lying on the ground, surrounded by fallen autumn leaves and Snatchers, the leaves crunch when they step on them, Dean’s face is bloody and broken and unrecognisable, his eyes shut. His hand makes a cracking sound that makes Seamus’s stomach turn when a Snatcher steps on it.

“DEAN! DEAN, DEAN!”

“Seamus, please— Sea…”

Dean’s body rolls over, he can’t be alive, he can’t be alive, but it looks like he’s trying to escape… but the Snatchers have no mercy.

“Avada Kedavra!”

“NOOO!”

“Seamus!”

“Don’t! You’ve killed him! You’ve killed him!”

“Ridd— Riddikulus… Seamus, look at me…”

Dean’s body on the floor in front of him… it vanishes before him, and Seamus collapses on the floor where he last saw the love of his life lie pale as death itself, completely still…

“Dean…”

“I’m here, I’m here… I’m not going anywhere, Sea.”

“You’re here, you’re here…”

A pair of strong arms around him. Dean’s breath on his neck, he’s alive, he’s well—“

“Dean… dead… Dean, I—“

“Shh.”

Dean’s wand clatters as it lands on the floor and starts rolling away. Seamus reaches out to grab it before he can think, the last remaining parts of a vision that’s shaken him to his core fading away as he does it.

“We can’t leave it out of sight”, he mumbles, and he hopes that he’s imagining the broken sobs shaking Dean’s body. “Don’t cry.”

“I’m sorry, Sea.”

“Okay.”

”You came.”

“I did.”

There’s a disturbance in the air, and the head and torso of Harry Potter appears right in front of him. Draco shakes his head in disbelief, doesn’t dare to let his own gaze linger at the other boy for too long. Harry’s wrists are exposed due to his sweater being one or two sizes too small, the moonlight shining through the window of the Astronomy Tower making his toned skin look almost pale. Somehow the sweater still looks baggy on him, making his wrists seem smaller than they are. Draco’s breath hitches when Harry awkwardly runs a hand over his neck and his sweater rides up, exposing a little bit of skin above his waistline.

Draco turns his attention to the floor.

“You fucking idiot. You absolute moron.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh, for Merlin’s- don’t be, Harry. Fuck. You’re just so stupid.”

“Thank you?” Harry laughs softly, and it sends a shiver down Draco’s spine. The familiarity of that laugh forces him to look back up, and he watches Harry carefully. Harry doesn’t hide the fact that he’s staring, too.

“You’re sending rather mixed signals, you know”, he says after a beat of silence, and Draco blinks stupidly.

“Says you”, he scoffs, and the way his voice breaks at the end might be what gives him away. Or perhaps Harry has memorised his every facial expression these last months, like how Draco knows Harry’s every frown, every smile, every laugh. What matters isn’t what gives him away. What matters is that Harry is approaching him. Slowly and carefully. Merlin knows how much Draco needs him not to be careful right now. He needs the Harry he knows.

“Says me.” Harry’s smile is unbelievably soft. Draco had no idea that a smile could break down within him what no insults or curses could. Who would have known that someone doesn’t have to be harsh and cruel to make Draco Malfoy feel things? Experience these odd little things called feelings?

“You can’t talk about mixed signals, Harry James Potter”, he says, his voice fragile enough to barely carry but strong enough not to break. That bloody beautiful name leaves his lips in a voice quiet enough to be silenced by his exhale, and his lips tremble before being pressed together. But he can’t stop the words now, and they force themselves out of his mouth like Harry keeps forcing himself back into Draco’s life time and time again. “I told you we’re done, didn’t I? I thought I made it pretty clear. Yet you’re here, stubborn as always, you git! What makes you think that our relationship is cancelled but our stargazing date is not?”

“You never said it was cancelled, love.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Oh, but I love seeing you flustered whenever I call you that, Draco. Look at you. Now who’s the one giving mixed signals? You can’t tell me I’m a git and that we’re done while blushing like crazy and refusing to look at me.”

“I can, and I did.”

“Hm. Cute.” Harry takes another step forward and lets his invisibility cloak fall to the floor. It’s draped over his shoes, making them vanish and creating the illusion that he’s floating a few inches above the floor. Draco feels like he is floating. He must be floating. Maybe the breakup did kill him, and that wasn’t just him imagining things, and now he’s a ghost doomed to haunt this very tower forever. The tower where he broke up with Harry beneath the stars. The tower where Harry is now back, where they’re both together again, and Harry is staring at him with stars in his eyes. That shine makes up for the lack of stars outside, and Draco doesn’t regret coming up here one bit, even though it’s cloudy and cold.

“Harry.”

“No, I didn’t come up here in a foolish attempt to win you back, Draco. I didn’t think you’d be here. After all, you broke up with me. I didn’t think there’d still be a date.”

“This isn’t a date.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

Draco can’t help but stare at the matte black mess that is Harry’s hair after he has just woken up. “The same as you, probably. Except I didn’t manage to fall asleep no matter how hard I tried, and you seem to have gotten at least a few minutes of sleep before you decided to take a late night stroll up here.”

Harry doesn’t ask him how he knows it, just nods gravelly. “I dreamt of you.”

“Hm. Cute.”

“Not quite, actually. I think I prefer the real version of you over dream-Draco. He’s quite cruel, you know. Not very cute when the person you love is yelling at you, telling you that you’re worthless and a fool for falling for him.”

“I’m sorry.”

There’s silence, and then Harry snorts. “Are you seriously apologising for your actions in my dreams right now, Draco?”

He blushes furiously and looks away. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“You fucking idiot. You absolute fucking mess of a person.”

And before Draco can process what’s going on, he’s being pulled into a tight hug. With his face full of unbrushed, black curls and a fist full of Gryffindor sweater, Draco can finally relax for the first time in days.

When they part many minutes later, the first thing Draco does is wipe the stupid tears out of his face with his sleeve, and he clears his throat awkwardly.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay, Draco.”

Once again the words come tumbling out of his mouth. “But what if it isn’t? What if dream-Draco was right, and you’re a fool for dreaming of me and wanting to be with me, and I’m a fool for wanting you? What if I am a fucking idiot? What if this—“ He gestures at his puffy eyes and tear-streaked cheeks. “— is who I am? And what if real Draco is out to hurt you? Without even knowing it. What if I hurt you, hurt you by breaking up with you again of fear of hurting you, and what if I just aren’t good enough for you or right for you and what if—“

“How about I just cut you off right there?” Harry manages to put an end to the stream of words with one look. “There. Now that you’re done talking nonsense — because you are done, I hope? — what do you think about the two of us finally making that stargazing date happen? Like, right now?”

Draco can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Potter, did you even listen to anything I just said?”

“Indeed I did, and I came to the conclusion that it was all utter bullshit. I’m not saying your feelings are though, and we’re going to have to have a talk about all of that. But not right now. You’ll feel better after we do something else, something fun to get your mind off of the bullshit! Trust me!” Harry beams at him before taking Draco’s hand in his. “Stargazing it is!”

“Potter, there are no stars to gaze at.”

“What? Oh. Yeah, you seem to be right about that. Blimey. Well, Astronomy Tower and all, I guess that leaves us with one option then.” Draco can’t help but huff something that could be a laugh at the way Harry wiggles his eyebrows at him.

“Remind me again when and why I fell in love with you and your weirdness.”

“Remind me again if you’ve ever outright told me that you love me before?”

“I, er, I don’t think so. Sorry, I didn’t mean to—“

“Well, you can’t take it back now! This means you’re stuck with me forever, there is no escape!”

“Oh, the horror.”