#50words

for the @microficmay prompt petrichor

The first rain in weeks patters outside the open window. Harry sprawls, sleep-warm, heavy. He’s dreaming of Draco in the garden: a wordless I love you.

Toffee, their owl, rattles at the sill with the Prophet.

Harry stirs. “You leaving?”

“No, darling.” Draco gathers Harry in. “I’m only waking up.”

for the @microficmay prompt nomad

Love is a challenge to Harry, like everything else.

He does his level best to break it before it can get broken or stolen or killed. 

But Draco has seen Harry’s dreams. The ribbon was never incongruent. It was an addition. Someone unyielding, but soft.

for the @microficmay prompt penchant

Harry is not in bed. He’s asleep in the cupboard with a blanket and pillow smelling faintly of toast. Ron’s magic.

Draco waits at Harry’s feet.

Harry stretches his legs into Draco’s lap, then wakes, pink-cheeked.

“You haven’t put me off,” Draco says.

“Did I come close?”

“Not even slightly.”

for the @microficmay prompt equanimity

Ron finds Draco in the garden, tending sweet peas.

“Harry’s having a nap. You okay?”

“You weren’t angry at the Wizengamot.”

“I was angry at everyone. And I wished he trusted us to want him around, after.”

“I haven’t gone anywhere.”

“No,” Ron sighs. “Staying is sort of your thing.”

for the @microficmay prompt hullaballoo

When Ron folds himself inside the cupboard with Harry, Draco expects a rescue, not a row. It’s a tremendous brawl. The kicking and shoving and shouting last for some time. 

“If you ever try that again,” Ron bellows at last, “I’ll kill you!”

“Pinky promise?” Harry demands. 

Gravitate

Weave

Upbraid

Writhe

Saunter

Natter

Emanate

Obfuscate

Card 1 filled out for @microficmay!

for the @microficmay prompt heady

A sparrow’s song drifts inside the bathroom windows while Draco washes and rinses, revealing the colour in Potter’s brown skin. 

The tangles in Potter’s hair only yield to careful anointing. Potter softens under cedar and lemongrass. Once, Draco catches Potter studying his hands in the water, fingers open, palms up.

for the @microficmay prompt fastidious

First, there are practical tasks. Rough, shapeless linen won’t do for the living.

“You’ve missed the snowdrops.” Draco unwinds another layer of Potter’s prison uniform. “But you’re here for when the Queen comes and all we dead awaken.”

Potter doesn’t answer.