So hereâs a little 8th year Drarry drabble I did today while âtryingâ to study.
It wasnât noticeable at first, just the occasional missing socks, but then it started being bigger items, like his shirts. Harry always just brushed it off as Hermione trying to help the house elves. That was the only reasonable excuse after all. But that was disproven really soon.
âHey honey, do you know where Pansy is?â Harry turned his head around in a fairly weird motion while in a large chair in front of the blazing fire in the 8th year common room. Â
âDraco,â Harry asked calmly, âwhy are you wearing my jacket?â
âI was cold,â he replied so casually like there was nothing out of the ordinary, which there was. At least it made sense that he was cold, it was a cold day after all; the snow not yet ready to leave after Christmas, even though it has been a month.
Draco was wearing a large red sweater with a golden âHâ on it; a present from Molly Weasley from Christmas, along with Harryâs Gryffindor scarf. But the most surprising part of it was that he was actually wearing Gryffindor colors, willingly.
Harry leaned back in the chair, pulling the blanket back over his knees. âDid you steal my socks too?â
âTheyâre comfy.â
Harry sighed, he never thought that dating Draco would mean losing all his clothes. He guessed that he needed to do something about that before he didnât have anything left for him to steal.
âSo you do know where Pansy is?â questioned Draco, bringing Harry out of his thought.
âOh yea, Pansyâs in the library.â
âThanks.â And with that Draco walked away, leaving Harry to his plan.
The next day, it was Dracoâs turn to be surprised. He walked into the common room with his book, ready to try to finish up on some reading for class, to see Harry wearing his green and silver scarf, and one of his soft, green sweaters that he wears when it gets too chilly inside. He was lounging in the same chair as the day before, with one of his textbooks open.
âHarry, scoot over,â Draco told him as he started to walk over and squeeze into the limited chair space.
Harry placed both of their books on the armrest, only to fall off when there wasnât as much room as Draco thought there would be. Still, they sat like that, head on each otherâs shoulder for a long time before Draco finally spoke. âNow why are you wearing my clothes today.â
âI should ask you the same thing,â Harry replied back sarcastically.
Today, Draco choose the same red and gold scarf, but was now in Harryâs grey sweater with a line of red on the bottom, still supporting Gryffindor colors.
âWell, I was cold again and I couldnât find the shirt that youâre wearing.â He nudged closer to the already squished Harry, but neither of them minded. âWhatâs your excuse.â
âI couldnât find the shirt that youâre wearing so I had to go for this.â He replied, nudging closer, making a little extra room on either side of them.
âIâm going to need to use your other grey shirt tomorrow,â Draco told Harry after a few minutes.
Harry made a small laugh, âWhy is that?â
âBecause youâre going to need mine, arenât you.â
Sarcastically, Harry replied, âHow did you know.â
âBecause I was planning to do the same.â And with that, they both sat there, staring at the fire, snuggled up in the wrong clothes.
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17 - The Dumbest AU You Can Think Of | Fighting to Fucking | Love/Hate Relationship | Gunplay
She sighed when he let her sink into the kiss. Maybe his wounds closing let down his guard a bit.
It was a relief, not being rejected for once. And he could. She was being respectful.
But he didnât, he let her warm herself on his skin, let her take a rest, a moment she didnât need to put her guard up.
A little tug let them both fall in her direction, landing on soft fabric, surrounded by flames and crystals. A warm haven in an ice hell.
Taking it slow for once, she pulled him down for more kisses, caress his arms, tracing his neck-muscles, while receiving the same treatment in return. She actually shuddered.
And he chuckled: âThat gets you all weak, mh?â
âMmmmh, maybe if itâs you,â she nibbled at his shoulder while he grinned and tore the rips in her clothes wider, kissing her pale breast.
âMaybe because you are human,â she rubbed the pointed tip of his ear, proof that he really was not entirely.
And he said so as well, stopping in his tracks: âI⊠am not. Certainly not. There is nothing left. I am made of nothing but slimeâ
Her smile widened: âOh, there is so much more to humans than a mere bodyâŠâ
With a raised brow, he looked at her hands, pointedly: âYou seem to be quite interested in itâ
âMmh, yeah,â her tail ran down his spine, causing an involuntary shudder, â⊠but you learn so fast⊠much faster than I ever did. Like it means something. Timeâ
A concept quite alien to their immortal forms.
Atmon only looked flatly at her, still remarkably stiff â maybe not his favourite theme?
She tried to soften him with more soft kisses. Exploring his body, hands all over. And he did return to his own careful exploration, sucking in a nipple, teasing her sidesâŠ
âThere really is something to explore with you, all imperfectâ Another wrong thing to say, he looked affronted.
Leviathan pulled him closer again: âItâs good. You are⊠you remember being alive. With all those⊠those weaknesses and cuts and bruises and healed and broken bonesâ
He still had those, inside, old memories of old wounds. Untold stories, all laid out and meaning something. For most demons bodies were more or less⊠ an afterthought.
This time, he bit into her shoulder, and she twitched: âIâm not the only one with bruisesâ
And⊠yes⊠he⊠had actually gotten her, there.
Really fast learner.
Folding her legs behind his legs, she pulled him down completely, drawing patterns on his back or arm while the kissing continued, sometimes little pecks, sometimes long, wet kisses.
This day, he indulged her. And she got to relax and just feel him all around, living skin and breath and teeth and everything.
Clothes disappeared with scratched skin and open mouthed kisses all over the otherâs body, naked skin pleasant to be felt, he even seemed to like her slightly cooler skin, played with her hair, nibbled her throat.
They fell into one another at one point, when heat had pooled into their lower regions, enough to be too distracting not to do something about it.
The following orgasm was⊠prolonged. Slow and lazy and unfocused, leaving shudders and warmth and tingly limbs.
He didnât seem to be much better off.
Just bodies being⊠done for the time.
His last kiss found her bruise, before he slept in.
Just like that.
She rolled up against him and did the same.
It was a strange, but good day.
17 - fighting to fucking - yesterday was fighting, today is fucking. Works? Slightly different direction
He had told me over and over again that he was always going to be there. He said he would always be able to protect me. But now I realize, that he was nothing but a liar. Now I stood in the cemetery watching the crowd as they sulked around his casket. They all took turns placing roses atop the polished wood and stepping back in line. I couldnât believe how pathetic they all were, mourning a liar, who broke so many promises.
Life had been so much better just last week. I had been talking to him on the phone as he was driving home from work. Then the sound of tires screeching against asphalt and crushing metal filled my ear. The phone had easily slipped from my fingertips, and even as it fell to the linoleum floor, I could still hear everything.
I had sat on the couch, numb and frozen, until there was a knock at my front door. Outside stood a cop, and he only had one thing to say. âYour husband was killed in a car crash.â I had been expected it, but that hadnât made it any easier to hear. But I wasnât sad about his death, no, not at all, I was furious. I had been through so much in my life but when I had met him, he turned it all around. He promised to protect me and to always be there for me. And now he was gone, forever. He broke his promises.
I refused to go any closer, so instead I was leaning against a tree, watching as the crowd slowly dispersed, and people went to return to their everyday lives. Finally the casket wasnât blocked from my view and I could watch as they lowered it, allowing him to rot underground for eternity.
âAre you really still mad at him?â I turned my head, surprised to see his sister, Pamela, fixing me with a stern glare while her arms were crossed across her chest.
Sighing, I turned back to look at where his casket had been just moments ago. âHe broke his promises.â
She groaned. âItâs not like he did it on purpose. He didnât choose to get in that crash.â
âIt doesnât matter.â Pamela was the last person I wanted to talk to right now, especially when she was obviously on his side. âWhen you make a promise, youâre entitled to keep it. No matter what.â
Then, out of no where, my cheek started to burn. It took me a moment to register that Pamela had snapped and slapped me. I watched her as she held back tears, both of her hands clenched tightly.
âYouâre just being selfish! You have no right to be angry with him, he didnât want to die, he had not control over it!â She yelled.
She spun on her heel and stomped away. I watched my eighteen year old sister-in-law stormed off towards the entrance to the cemetery. My cheek still burned, but it was subsiding now. I tore my eyes away from Pamela and started walking. I forced myself to approach his grave. I wouldnât be selfish if I at least did that.
The stone was freshly polished, obviously brand new. It hadnât been exposed to the elements, yet. I kneeled down to get a better look, glaring at the words in front of me. Here lies Joshua Parker, loving son, brother, and husband.
âYou forgot liar,â I mumbled before standing up and leaving him behind. Forever.
