#onewarmline

@microficmay day 18 Drarry CW: post-Azkaban

Next: solid ground. Early starts, tousled hair, joggers. Ron’s hands supporting Draco’s neck. Draco’s hands in Harry’s. 

“That’s it, mate. Tuck your chin. Yes! Like that!”

One morning, Draco rolls back to front without help. Harry, ecstatic, kisses his cheek.

SILLY, Draco writes after, face red.

“No,” Harry says. “Strong.”

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@microficmay day 3 Drarry CW: post-Azkaban

Draco doesn’t make a sound. The Diagnostics scream for him. Neon-violet panic and Crucio-green pain and saffron tachycardia stain his starlight hair. He breaks two quills. Throws a third. With freshly healed fingers around a fourth, he scrawls SLEEP.

Harry squeezes his hand. Promises. Swears. “You’ll wake up somewhere else.”

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@microficmay day 31 Drarry CW: post-Azkaban

At Windermere, sun breaks the morning’s mist.

“You,” Draco says, “are like…one warm line.”

Harry breathes deep. “I want to be boyfriends.”

“Husbands,” Draco counters.

“Yes! What? Yes!”

Draco laughs. Snatches the goldenrod from Harry’s pocket. Casts. 

Magic bursts from the water’s brim, sweeps past, and gallops away, singing. 

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@microficmay day 20 Drarry CW: post-Azkaban

Day after day, all day, arguments:

STEPS.

“You might hurt yourself!”

STEPS.

“Draco, please. There’s no hurry!”

STEPS.

The day Draco takes ten unsteady steps on spindly legs, Harry catches him.

“What do you want?” Harry says, Draco panting, clinging. “Anything. If you rest.”

A Slytherin grin. 

Draco writes SNOG.

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Start at the beginning here!

@microficmay day 12 Drarry CW: post-Azkaban

July washes in. Outside, Harry floats a blushing rose into Draco’s palms.

Draco meets his eyes. Tilts his chin. Challenges.

“If you’re sure…” 

A firm nod.

Harry cups his hands under Draco’s. 

Ten. Fifteen. Draco sits unassisted for twenty seconds, then falls into jewel-green grass, pink-faced, grinning at Harry’s cheers.

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@microficmay day 9 Drarry CW: post-Azkaban

The task: sit on the edge of the bed. 

Draco’s arms, Harry’s neck. He’s too heavy, muscles straining, breaths sharp. The Diagnostic is Killing-Curse green. Hot, silent teardrops dampen Harry’s neck. 

“Fall,” Harry begs. “I’ll catch you. Please.”

Draco crumples into Harry. Ron whispers apologies, his magic soft, Healing blue.

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@microficmay day 6 Drarry CW: post-Azkaban

How deep is the well of memory? No telling.

Until Draco blinks, suddenly lucid. On the Diagnostic, a sunburst detonates in a violet sea. Draco hides in Harry’s arms, eyes squeezed shut, nails cutting Harry’s collarbone.

On the walls, words: 

SORRY 

SORRY 

SORRY

“Oh, mate,” Ron says. “S’okay. You’re forgiven.”

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@microficmay day 26 Drarry CW: post-Azkaban

In the kitchen, Draco belly-laughs, shouts, “Snake!”

“Such accusations!” Blaise scoffs. “Fabrications all.”

“Why only S words?” asks Harry, under the crackling fire.

“Sometimes,” Ron answers, Healer-voiced. “It’s a holdover.”

“From what?”

Ron clicks his teeth together, blue eyes gentle. “You can still make that sound with a broken jaw.”

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