#drarry!

I have no idea what I’m doing.

-

The day Draco Malfoy died had been, by all accounts, a normal day. There had been no ominous messages, godly or otherwise to foretell the shocking turn of events.

Harry had woken up around 10am, dreadfully late for work and with a hangover that could kill a dragon (or perhaps a slightly monstrous bear, if we’re to be realistic).

He Apparated to the Ministry, studiously keeping out of sight from the Muggles (Hermione’s lectures leave a lasting impact on their victims).

He had not been in the mood to face the sour-faced welcome lady or the bloody lift announcer (it’d been on the fritz since the war and nobody could fix it. They’d tried) but he’d faced it head-on like the fucking Gryffindor he was.

So into the Auror Department he’d walked, wearing a badge that said “Henny Pooper” and Irene’s judgemental gaze fresh behind his eyelids with every fated blink.

Auror Robards had promptly handed him a file, a hangover potion (Merlin bless him), and a brief lecture.

Distracted by the unfortunately painful as fuck side effects of a Ministry-issued hangover potion, he only caught the tail end of Robards’ lecture.

“— Malfoy Manor. One fatality.”

-

Am I supposed to tag people? If so, like. @theambitiousserpent & @itsjamethyst (I guess?)

I have no idea what I’m doing.

First of all...

for @hdcandyheartsfest 's prompt: Nap rated: G CW: Veela Draco

for @hdcandyheartsfest 's prompt: "Love" Rated: G CW: Love Confessions, Kissing Draco was nothing more than a silhouette in the distance, the faintest of outlines atop the crest of a hill. He was never going to make it in time. He was too far. Draco would be gone before he got there, and he’d have no way of reaching out to him, as he didn’t even know where he was heading. He tried to yell out, but the wind swallowed up his voice. Growing frantic, he threw red sparks into the air, hoping to get his attention. He could see Draco looking around, before he seemed to finally notice him. Relieved as he was, he still didn’t stop running, until he’d made it to Draco’s side, heaving for air. “Wait.” Draco looked less than pleased, as he repositioned the bag that was strewn around his shoulder. “I don’t have time for this, Potter. The Portkey’s about to leave.” His lungs still burned, as he forced himself to slow his breathing, so he could speak without gasping. “I know, but you can’t… You can’t leave. Please.” “Why? You know there’s nothing left for me here.” Draco’s eyes were growing suspicious. “Who put you up to this?” “No one did, but I couldn’t just let you disappear like that. Why didn’t you tell me?” “I didn’t think you’d care. You have your own friends, your own life.” “I thought we were friends!” He snapped, unable to keep the desperation out of his voice. Draco’s eyebrows furrowed, his lip twitching. “I thought it was just for show. I didn’t think you actually liked spending time with me.” “You’re really dense sometimes, you know that?” Draco’s lips curled into a sneer. “That’s rich, coming from you.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” Draco let out a sharp huff and shook his head. “I’ve got to go, Potter.” “Wait.” “Why?” “Because I… I think I love you.” Draco’s agitated expression slipped, revealing shock and a brief moment of softness, as he stared over at him. “What?” He nearly grimaced, as he started to realize that it was very possible that Draco wanted nothing to do with him, and he’d only managed to make a fool of himself by coming out here. He’d been so caught up in his revelation about what his feelings meant, only to find out from Pansy that Draco was leaving the country immediately after, that he’d not had a moment to actually think about what he was doing. How could he? He had to stop Draco from vanishing from his life forever, but what if Draco didn’t want to be a part of his life, what could he do then? “I… I think I love you.” He repeated, unsure of what else to say, as there was nothing else to say. If Draco didn’t love him, and he still wanted to leave, he wouldn’t try to stop him. Draco was still just gawking at him, disbelief clear in his eyes. “You… You do?” He nodded, waiting for Draco to say something. There was a long pause, before Draco suddenly rushed forwards and crushed him in a hug, lifting him up into the air, while his face flushed pink from the cold, or at least, he thought that had to be why. “You couldn’t have told me this before I paid for the Portkey?” “Well, I… I sort of just figured it out.” He mumbled, his feet dangling below him, as Draco squeezed the life out of him. Draco shook his head, a blinding and unguarded smile lighting up his face. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Draco like that before, so happy and open. “And you call me dense.” He couldn’t help but smile, as Draco’s glee was contagious, even if he had just insulted him, again. “So… Do you uhm… Like me?” He asked, even if Draco’s enthusiastic behavior would make no sense otherwise.