#mindabbles

"When I was 16, I was obsessed with you," Harry says. His breath catches when Draco tilts his head inquisitively, the perfect angle for a kiss. "I was twenty-two and married before I realised there was more to it than a vanishing cabinet." "The literal closet," says Draco. The corner of his mouth curves in a small smile. "Six years? That's a bit pathetic, even for you." "You want to know what's even more pathetic?" Harry pushes on. He's come this far, he thinks, and turning back has never been his strong suit. "What could be?" "Since Ginny and I split, and the Prophet had the courtesy to out me so spectacularly, I've had more than my share of offers. Every time I leave the house, men proposition me," Harry says. He doesn't know when he did it, but Draco has moved closer. "Sometimes I accept, but looking back, only the blonds." Draco's hand lights on Harry's hip, so softly it could be taken for an accident. "Cheap imitations," he whispers, his breath warm over Harry's cheek. "So show me the real thing," Harry says, sliding his hand around Draco's waist to the small of his back.

Hello Liv! First off, your tumblr is awesome and I truly appreciate all the time and effort you have put into putting together rec lists and answering questions. I also appreciate the thoughtfulness and kindness you extend to others, as well as your rule of “Ship and Let Ship,” helping to create a welcoming atmosphere. Just, A+++++ all around. I check your tumblr quite often!

FIC: TURN THE TABLE (HARRY/DRACO, EXPLICIT)

“I thought you were going to miss our tea time.” Since they split into different departments, Ron and Harry have been meeting up for tea every morning. “Nah,” Harry says. The rolls is buttery and fluffy and perfect for soaking up the remains of the whisky. “I was with Malfoy all day, and then wanted to get the report done while it was fresh, you know. Left him at the restaurant. Don’t think he was well pleased.” “You left Paul because you wanted to go home and think about Malfoy?” Ron asks, raising his eyebrows. “Report, I had to do the — oh, shut up.” Harry looks away from Ron’s laughing face and takes another long drink of tea. He’s trying to decide if he should even try and explain himself when he’s hit square in the forehead with something. A pink, paper airplane backs up and takes another run at him. Harry’s quick enough this time and he catches it before it takes an eye out. “Irvin not a patient man, eh?” Ron asks, laughing again. “You having a fun morning?” Harry unfolds the crumpled paper. Irvin’s apparently read his report. “What’s it say?” Harry sighs. “Inconclusive…expect better from my deputy head…deeper investigation…observe more than one client…soft on him…and on and on. In other words, I’m spending the day with Malfoy again.” “Do you mind, really?” Ron asks. “Why are you my friend?” Harry asks.

“I’d really like to kiss you,” Harry says. “Want me to sign a waiver, absolving you of any quid pro quo?” Draco asks. Harry frowns and Draco’s afraid he’s gone too far. “I’ve already handed in my report. Nothing that happens tonight will change a thing. Smart arse.” “What? Then why are you here? I thought you needed to continue observing me.” Draco places the tip of his forefinger on Harry’s chest. He can feel Harry’s sharp inhale. “I wanted to continue observing you,” Harry says, leaning closer, into the press of Draco’s finger, so that Draco is forced to move his hand or open it and press the palm against Harry’s chest. He chooses to press the palm against Harry’s chest and the feel of the soft cotton of his tee-shirt and the firm muscle beneath makes Draco’s heart beat faster. “All right,” Draco says, making a split-second decision. He sinks to his knees. “Then watch me.”

"I loved you before I met you, how is it possible to argue with that?" "Idiot," says Draco. He buries his hand in Harry's hair and pulls him back into a kiss. Draco tilts his head and parts his lips. Harry sighs into it as Draco backs him slowly against the table. Their tongues curl together and slide against each other, and the heat spreads through Harry's body. This is a weakness, or maybe it's a strength, for both of them. When they've reached an impasse, when they can't talk about the oddity that is their life anymore, they find their way back to each other like this. Harry knows—like he knows his name when he travels, like he knows that Weasleys are always friends, and that his best possible life is with Draco—that one day they will find the key to the travels and end it.

"You and Mrs Figg seem to bring out the best in each other," Harry says. He shoves his hands deep into his pockets. "What are you on about?" Draco lifts the cigarette to his lips, two fingers holding it to his mouth while the others curl around his jaw. "Well, you seemed terribly cosy in there," says Harry. "Well, she's got her share of pluck and is doing a fair bit of the work," Draco says. He exhales and the smoke mixes with the vapour from his breath in the chilly air. "Am I not spending enough time with you, hmm?" "Depends what you mean by enough," Harry says. He looks Draco up and down and he knows Draco will see it, but he can't help himself. "Surely that word doesn't tax even your vocabulary," Draco says and he turns to step to the side of the house where they can Apparate unseen. Harry follows. In the gap between the houses, the temperature plummets as they move out of the failing light. "Maybe I can put it another way," Harry says. He's no good at this. Since he's been on his own again, he hasn't really had to make an effort to pull, and he's realising that perhaps that's fortunate. Draco faces him and leans back against the brick wall of Mrs Figg's little house. He crosses his arms over his chest. "Potter, are you attempting to flirt with me?" "I don't know," Harry asks. He steps closer and his body floods with heat despite the chill. "Is it working?"