#fifty words

for @drarrymicrofic prompt 'killshot by magdalena bay'

Five rules have kept Draco out of trouble as an incubus:

1. Don't feed on anyone you know

2. If you must, only do so once

3. Don't confuse sex and feeding

4. Don't confuse affection and sex

5. Do not feed on Harry Potter

“You two are like the moon,” Luna said dreamily, sitting opposite Harry and Draco

Draco scoffed. “Cold, barren and distant?”

“No,” Luna smiled. “Silly thing. Every month, your love only grows bigger and bigger. Even though you fight and pretend to break up, the same pattern happens over and over.”

~

Fifty words.

“Lock them in a room until they confess their feelings?” Hermione suggests.

“No, they’d just ignore each other. Let’s bind them together with a Sticking Charm,” Pansy counters gleefully, “by their dicks.”

Behind the tapestry, Draco presses his mouth against Harry’s neck, laughing.

“Winchester?” they confirm.

“Winchester,” he says. “Like the gun.”

As he gets older, Dean starts to clarify the name unprompted. It becomes instinct.

This is what Sam hears, when his brother says Winchester, like the gun:

"In accordance with Merlin's First Principles, I invoke my right to trial by combat."

Murmurs of confusions and gasps echo in the Wizengamot.

"Name your champion."

In a split second, Harry is certain that Draco will lose. No sword, no wand, unarmed. Harry stands.

For a decade, Amortentia has no scent to Draco. Brewing it for experiments becomes muscle memory.

"I gaze into this crystal ball, and I can see...you are scared of commitment."

"Thanks, Ginny, a Galleon to charity well spent."

"No, wait, for another Galleon I see..."

"Go ahead then."

Damn Draco for leaving Harry with a rosewood music box riddled with curses and no indication of where he'd gone. Harry slammed it down on his desk in frustration. They hadn't exchanged more than passing greetings in years before yesterday morning's note.