#microween

In the courtyard ahead stood a being, similar to a dog only in shape. It was considerably larger than an ordinary dog, and Draco reckoned normal dogs didn’t have glowing yellow eyes or wisps of dark magic coming off of them.

It was like all the warmth had been drained from his body and his limbs no longer worked, frozen in place and unable to look away.

He’d heard of the Grim, he knew what it meant to witness it, but perhaps it wasn’t here for him?

It suddenly turned its head, locking eyes with Draco, and snarled. In doing so, its sharp teeth were exposed, dripping in something red-coloured.

Draco was a dead man.

“Draco, what’s wrong?” Pansy asked at his side, resting her hand on his arm.

“Can’t you see that?” Draco hissed back. It wasn’t exactly hard to miss.

“See what?” She replied, looking around confused.

Draco glanced around and sure enough, everyone else was acting like nothing was there – everyone except one person.

Harry was staring straight at it, eyes wide and full of fear.

“This house doesn’t want us here,” Malfoy said, standing with one hand on his hip and the other clutching a Muggle takeaway cup. His hair lifted and fell in the cold October wind. 

“Yes, well. Tough luck, it’s getting cleansed,” Harry said, already irritated by the delay. 

This was the final stop before a pint at the Leaky, and Malfoy’s antics weren’t about to stop him from getting there.

“No, Potter. This one is haunted.”

Harry felt the familiar prickle of impatience rising. Malfoy pulled this sort of thing at least once a week. Once too often, if you asked Harry.

“Yes, and that’s literally our job description! Can we fucking not, please?”

Malfoy, who didn’t look even remotely inclined to move an inch, made Harry lose the last of his restraint. He strode over, ready to drag him along if necessary, only to stop short when he met Malfoy’s eyes, all wide with panic. 

That was new.

“What?” Harry said, a little hesitant, his hand hovering uselessly over Draco’s arm. He looked up at the house. It looked like any other wizarding home; dark and depressive, looming over a pitiful garden. The sort of garden that had once tried, then simply given up pretending.

“What?” he tried again when Malfoy didn’t answer. His hair still moved with the wind, a pale slash against the darkening sky. Malfoy didn’t look back; his eyes instead fixed on the house. A faint tremor around his mouth set off all of Harry’s alarm bells.

That was most definitely new.

“Bloody hell, don’t tell me they’ve sent us into some sort of demon’s nest or something? This is fucking unbelievable.” Harry didn’t bother to hide his annoyance as he scanned the mission scroll and came up empty. “Malfoy, what exactly do you know?"

A noise to his left made him jump, and something brushed his foot. He leapt up with a shout and spun round, only to find Malfoy’s face inches from his own. 

“Boo!” A puff of air hit his face as the word registered. It smelled of coffee and betrayal. He wanted to hex the grin right off Malfoy’s stupid, infuriating face.

“Now, come along, Potter. Whatever are you dawdling for? The ale will be warm before we ever reach the Leaky at this pace.”

****

In response to this week prompt (and I drew "haunt") by @drarrymicrofic Words: 383 (still too hard to hit 50, it actually gets worse, haha).

For @drarrymicrofic | Halloween prompt: ghost | word count: 185 | First microfic, first time posting on Tumblr in english in English! I’ll gladly accept any suggestions, love, and comments! 🧡

"I can't believe you insist we try this barbaric tradition."

"Just because it's a Muggle holiday doesn't mean it's barbaric."

"It's the American version of a Muggle holiday," Draco said, the words dripping with disdain, as though each one had personally offended him. "Why can't we celebrate Samhain like every respectable wizard? And, good Merlin, leave the sheets my mother gifted us alone!"

"We’ll enjoy Samhain tonight. Now, we’re going to have fun the Muggle way."

"You're incorrigible, Potter." Draco exhaled, watching Harry work with scissors, his wand, and the much-protested sheets. Then Harry’s face lit up with triumph. He threw a sheet over his head and began flailing his arms. "Oh, Morgana—what on earth are you doing?"

"I'm a ghost. It’s self-explanatory."

"Why does your ghost look like a bleached Dementor?" Draco asked, utterly bewildered.

😈This week we have a special spooky challenge for you! We've filled a Halloween Wheel with a whole graveyard full of terrifying prompts! 😈

Click here to spin the wheel and discover your prompt!

“I’m not easily spooked,” Draco declares, and Harry knows it for the challenge it is. He watches him from across the Ministry cafeteria, where Draco is holding court at the far end of the table.

“In fact, I don’t think you can properly unsettle me at all. Not after… well.” A lazy wave of his hand, and Harry can’t help but follow the motion; heat creeping into his cheeks as the familiar spark of defiance courses through him. 

Afterwards, he follows Draco into his office, and even though he can cast it wordlessly, he says the spell aloud. The door locks with a sharp click. Draco sits behind his pristine desk, lips parting slightly as he recognises what Harry has done.

“What are you doing?” He still asks, and Harry thinks he can hear the uncertainty in Draco’s voice.

Brilliant.

He leans over the desk, deliberately flexing his biceps as he does so. Draco’s eyes widen as Harry leans in further.

“Merlin’s sake, Potter, what exactly do you think you’re doing?” Draco asks again, but his voice has taken on a rough edge. 

Even better.

“Do you wanna… fuck, Draco?” he says low, surprised that he dared, even more surprised that he means it.

Draco’s chair screeches against the floor as he pushes it back, and suddenly he’s towering over Harry, who’s now looking up from his half-crouched position over the desk.

“What… fuck, Harry. Have you completely gone mad? We’re at work. Why would you…” He trails off as Harry straightens, and all of Harry’s courage seems to drain out of him. He hasn’t really thought this through. He’d only wanted to throw Draco off balance, to make him flustered, and a bit scared. He latches on to that thought.

“What? Are you scared?” 

Draco’s eyes flare as he leans in, catching the cold gleam of the office light.

“You wish!”

****

Harry shivered. There was that feeling again, a sudden cold washing over him like someone had just walked over his grave.

It first happened the day he returned to Hogwarts for eighth year, and ever since then it has been occurring more and more, showing no signs of stopping.

And each time, the feeling was followed by…

Draco suddenly appeared at his side, smirking.

@drarrymicrofic Prompt: Nightmare Words: 164 ***

Draco Malfoy is a movie star. Everywhere Harry turns - in the wizarding world or the Muggle one - Malfoy is there. It’s a fucking nightmare.

He’s adored by many, hated by few. It’s as if all his shittiness has been collectively forgotten.

But Harry hasn’t forgotten.

Not when he sees the scar across Malfoy’s torso in the latest Witch Weekly spread. The burns from fiendfyre visible on his ankle.

Even his voice is different now, less of that posh drawl, but Harry remembers how Malfoy used to spit his surname. As if it was something to be expelled, every syllable evicted by force. Like it didn’t belong there.

Harry has not forgotten, even if the rest of the world seems to be suffering from a sudden case of shared amnesia.

When he closes his eyes he can still feel the tight grip around his torso, the heat licking up his heels.

He remembers it all. 

In the dead of the night, standing outside Malfoy's house.

---

I’ve written three microfics so far for this Halloween special from @drarrymicrofic. Haunted (383 words) Cursed (409 words)