Where the Hell Are You, Simon?

Or at least I should be, wholeheartedly. Because I did well. I had 5 minutes to tell it and I breached the limit by a few seconds only. I had a classical short story structure. I had a few jokes and unexpected turns. I remembered what I wanted to say and how I wanted to say it and even specific phrasing - around 85% of what I had planned (the rest was lost to the time limit and nerves). It was my first time doing something like this too.

I also have anxiety and a severe stage fright; I was shaking the whole time I was waiting for my name to be called up (I was called within the first hour but another girl jumped on stage and took my place; when I was finally called up, it’s been 3 hours). And yet, I stuttered only 4 times in 5 minutes (when I started, twice when I was interrupted, and once when I fumbled when we approached the ending).

So I really should be proud of myself. But you know what hinders me?

I got a very lukewarm response. I had support at the beginning, there was interest in the middle, and there was very little applause at the end.

It was a good story; but I think the audience for it was not exactly right. The theme was based around sexual experiences and mine was attempted sexual experience turned poetic revenge story. Eh.

It’s like expecting cake but receiving charcuterie board. Both are good; but when you’ve had your fill and are expecting dessert, you do feel a bit let down, no matter how good the cheese is.

I also did not win the contest for the best story even though mine was the most cohesive one. And I guess that also stings a bit.

I feel like I cannot enjoy my triumph because my audience did not experience the triumph with me.

Which is not fair. And I should be proud anyway.

“Hello, love.”

Suddenly breathless, his head snaps up. As if in a vision, Draco strides towards him, his blonde hair tousled by the wind, no product in today. He has a gentle smile on his face and his face is alight with softness.

Draco is looking right at him and Harry’s hands go a bit slack.

He’s so lovely, his Draco.

The book easily slides from his hand and Draco sits astride his lap. His face obscures the sunlight and all Harry can see are his bright grey eyes. He sees them close and feels soft lips press against his. He feels a hand in his hair, its caress sending shivers down his spine. He doesn’t know when his eyes closed but he still has control over the rest of his face and he is yet to respond.

A moment of hesitation too long, and Draco takes his hand and guides it to his rear; he makes him squeeze the soft flesh and Harry lets out involuntary gasp that Draco all too eager to take advantage of.

Just as he accepts the loss of the battles on two fronts with a deep groan, Draco moves his hips closer and proceeds into a slow grind - and then Harry knows he’s lost the war. His body is hot and eagerly responsive, he has a willing body on top of his that has recently been with him only in his dreams, he feels a thrum of delighted magic mingling and rising.

Harry’s one hand is squeezing the soft globe as previously instructed and his other hand is rising up Draco’s side, appreciating how thin the shirt is and hating that it’s there in the first place. A bite, a lick, a suck; an eager tongue meets his and his hips rise up an inch. He feels nails scratching his scalp and nails digging into his shoulder. Draco has his whole body in his clutches and Harry can think of no one else better to possess it.

Harry’s thumb stumbles over a button, a world of delicious possibilities opening up for him, when he hears a distant giggle. The world comes into a sharp focus and his lips detach from the sweet warmth and his eyes open to the blinding light of the uncharacteristic cloudless day. The eager mouth travelling from his chin to his neck seems distant as his eyes take in the audience in the courtyard. As the blue and green uniforms start registering in his mind, a warm hand brings his face back to Draco’s. He pecks him on the lips quickly, and smiles playfully.

“You with me?”

It’s such a loaded question, with so many promises and possibilities yet underestimating all possible outcomes. Physically, he could not be more with him (well, the slow grind that is yet to stop tells him there could be a next level, but-) and mentally, he’s torn. His mind is clouded with his favourite and simultaneously most dreaded pheromones of a person he still loves most in the world.

He doesn’t know why he’s here, why exactly Draco is doing this. Is he trying to tease him into an invitation to the Yule ball? Is he trying to make someone jealous? Did he miss him? Did he miss Harry? Did he want to see him? Did he miss his touch, his company? Is he making his choice? Is Harry the only one he needs?

“Are you feeling okay?” Draco looks worried now, with his gaze still so gentle on him, his face so open to any answer. His hand is petting his hair languidly, all claws retracted.

“I’ve-,” he clears his throat slightly, his hand relaxing and falling from his side to his thigh. “I’m just tired. Been revising the whole day and-“. He’s lost in Draco’s eyes. The only thing he wants to revise is Draco’s touch, and Draco’s kiss, and Draco’s body. He quickly dives to hide his face in Draco’s clavicle, and breathes in his sweet smell. He feels robbed by the presence of the twice damned shirt but it’s a significant improvement of what he had even an hour ago.

“It’s a good thing I’m here then,” is the reply, the hands still gently raking through his hair and cradling his face. “I am the best and only distraction you could possibly need. A great stress relief too.”

With a smile on his face, his hands snake around Draco’s torso and hug him close. Their chests move in tact, their breathing synchronised. It feels, as if on any inhale now, they’re about to merge. He has all he needs and he’s not about to let go.

All the sounds disappear, nothing exists anymore, nothing else matters. The gentle petting is lulling him to the deepest sense of calm he has experienced in a while. The stress leaks from his entire body, as if it never had any reason to belong there in the first place and is running away with its tail tucked between its legs. A great stress relief indeed.

A kiss on his cheek. A tiny space created between them. A hand coaxing his head up. A content smile on the most beautiful face in the world.

Harry is taken, taken, taken.

“Well?” Playful, mischievous. Beautiful, beautiful.

Harry’s hands are moving without his permission, touching every part of the body within reach. His smile matches the one he sees. His magic flourishes with a stutter.

A halted grind. A wider smile. A vivacious blush.

A tiny frown. A tighter grip. A foreboding flicker.

A kiss, the nails, the grind. He wants to be submerged in the feeling again. His desire rises after the rude pause. His hands prepare to settle back in his favourite positions. His fate is almost sealed with a delicious moan.

A giggle. A whisper. A startling rush to reality.

They’re in a courtyard in the middle of a day. It was empty when he first settled here with his books, but it seems more and more people have been coming in. It’s a wonder a professor hasn’t seen them yet.

“Wait,” Harry’s smile is bashful when he parts from Draco. He sneaks a look around and indeed there are students here and there, around a dozen already. A shiver of discomfort at the public attention runs down his spine. “Everyone can see us.”

“Good,” is Draco’s confident and self-satisfied reply. The purr in his voice matches the glitter in his eyes.

It’s as if a bucket of cold water is poured down his front and back and his entire insides. His whole body freezes up, his heart in his throat, awaiting a reboot. A skipped beat and a lost breath give him a shake down he so desperately needed.

Draco leans in but Harry turns his head away. His heartbeat is getting faster, but heavier; his magic trembles in betrayal.

Draco isn’t here because of Harry. He doesn’t care if he’s tired or upset or that he’s missed him like crazy. Maybe it has crossed his mind but it’s not why he’s here, not really.

He sees Parvati and Parkinson giggling in the corner; the two notorious gossipers of the school. He sees some older Ravenclaws, just out from the last class.

He sees a motive and a backup plan.

(And he hates himself so much that that’s where his mind takes him now; that he sees everything around him in these shades of conspiracy)

His heart squeezes and he’s afraid to breathe in case the last shards of his heart break as well and puncture his fragile lungs.

He doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t understand how he could be deserving it.

He doesn’t understand why he’s been so stupid. He promised himself. He made the rules. He’s been following the rules. He’s been so careful.

The body on top of him is no longer warm. Its welcoming pheromones are distorted and lying, lying, lying.

He’s such a stranger, this Draco.

He gently manueveres Draco to sit beside him on the bench; his weight on top of him is no longer welcome.

“What’s wrong?” Draco’s voice is worried and his face is probably reflecting the same, but if he looks at him, he will crumble. His body, mind and magic will crumble and the wind will scatter his heart-broken remains across the Hogwarts grounds.

“I have to go,” he says, his voice sounding so far away, so uncharacteristically subdued. He bends down and picks up his fallen textbook and then shoulders his bag.

“Harry-“ starts Draco’s protesting voice but Harry quickly shuts him down with a resolute “no”. He stands abruptly, as if there’s a snitch to catch nearby, and practically runs away. The whispers from all around and his name from Draco’s lips follow him.

He finds himself in one of the Castle’s corridor on the second floor - too far from the common room, not far enough from the courtyard. He presses his face against the cool wall and he holds in a sob.

It feels cruel. It feels sad. It feels hopeless - the situation they’re in. If only Harry was braver to demand what he wants. If only Draco was kinder and let him go.

(Now also on AO3)

The question comes when he’s sitting in a Gryffindor common room.

“Are you taking anyone to the Yule Ball, Harry?”

Now, that is a one dangerous question. It’s not that it’s a suprising question - he gets something like that at least once a month (“do you have a date to Hogsmeade, Harry?” “do you have a Valentine’s date, Harry?”), and that’s only from his house, so it’s not like it’s not something that he was not expecting. It’s the fact that the answer this time might be different, perhaps for the first time in more than a year. And that’s bound to turn some heads his way.

But what else is he supposed to do?

If he says yes, then he is not getting out of the vicious cycle he is in now (and he promised, he promised he’d try) and then he’d have to follow up and that breaks so many tactics of his (because really, everyone knows there’s only one person he’d take).

If he says no, it could mean that he’s yet to simply ask; he is a busy captain-saviour, after all. It could also very easily open a lot of follow up questions that he would love to avoid.

He catches Hermione’s eye and sees worry, and hesitance, and just a bit of pity; there’s no judgement there, to his relief, but he knows there’s plenty of silent encouragement. She knows he loves Draco, she knows that Draco is no good for him, she knows exactly in how many pieces his heart is broken, and she knows he’s guarding the last shards.

She also knows that they had plenty of their good moments: the mirthful laughs, the public support, the quiet picnics, the passionate encounters, the deep soul searching and the future hopes. She knows it’s hard; she knows that he wants him and hates himself for it; she knows that he’s doing his best.

Hermione hopes he does what’s best for Harry and Harry’s peace of mind; but she will accept and be right there for him if he chooses the oblivion instead. Her eyes hold no expectations.

It’s that unhesitant support that tips the scale. She trusts him, she believes in him; she doesn’t think him a fool. The whole school probably does but not her. She knows him and she knows them. And she will always be on his side.

And that gives him the strength to open this line of inquiry.

“No,” he says calmly to a fourth year that asked (Katy something) and looks back to his book.

The common room grows quiet but Harry does not dare raise his head to check if it is because of him (denial feels too nice to turn his back on it).

“Aren’t you dating someone?” Comes an eager follow up - just as he knew it would.

If the previous one was dangerous, this one is borderline perilous.

If he says yes, then he will confirm his relationship with Draco - and confirm that he doesn’t care about the cheating. He’d also be violating tactic #5 - don’t officiate the relationship.

If he says no, then - well, that will be quite a clear message to quite a few people, won’t it?

It is perhaps one of the most reckless things he’s ever done; his heartbeat is louder in his ears than when he faced the Basilisk. But how else is he supposed to feel when he’s about to denounce the love of his life?

One could hear a pin drop in the room so his repeated “No” comes all the louder, a proverbial pin bouncing off the hard metal floor.

There’s a gasp somewhere around the fireplace and furious murmurings pick up over at the sofas. The tension mounts and the air is too excited for his taste.

It seems the girl is gearing up for some new questions when he sees Hermione glaring up at her from the corner of his eye. He lets out a half smile and closes his book.

“Library?” He says to her, nonchalant as could be, as if he didn’t just drop a bomb - a dung or a love one - in the middle of the room. As if his entire being is not shaking on the inside.

“I thought you’d never ask,” comes her teasing response.

The room picks up in noise; it’s not the same before his fateful answers. It feels it will never be the same.

As he leaves the common room, he reckons he’s simultaneously upheld and broke tactic #15 - do not encourage drama.

Well, there was no rule on creating it so.

HEAR ME OUT!

Harry grew up with his relatives and was treated as a house elf. A house elf, who cooked, and cleaned, and run errands and got scraps in return - be it food or clothes or space for himself. The only difference is that at least house elves got magic in return, to survive; all Harry got was a roof under his head. Worth it or not, only he can decide.

In the meantime, his cousin got everything he ever wanted. If Harry couldn't get treated as great as his cousin, couldn't he at least be treated well enough? Like a human being?

Now, an orphan treated as a house elf by his relatives? Unfair. But let's go back a little.

Having no parents while others did? Unfair.

Living in a cupboard while his cousin had 2 rooms? Being punished for Dudley being dumb? Having abuse encouraged towards him? Unfair.

Not being told he is a wizard and had wizard parents? Unfair.

Not having any people - Ministry, representatives of authority, parents' friends, well wishers, anyone - contact him or check up on him, despite being lauded as a saviour? Unfair.

Having his life controlled and decided by a whim of some headmaster, famous or not? Who never checked up on him after? Who didn’t care how he lived despite taking the responsibility to decide? Unfair.

(Just because he's famous doesn't mean he can do whatever he wants and have authority over all)

There are a lot of things that are unfair. And as a child who sees that they could have a life like everyone else (re: not cooking his relatives' food all the time, not being hated for breathing, etc - the first glance, the "window shopping" of others' behaviour), be loved like Dudley and other kids, having some clothes, a warmth in his life - but not having it not because there was no means, but because they simply refused? And yet kept him for the dirty work? IT'S NOT FAIR.

So as a child who saw all this, this child now wants some fairness in his life, to get what's his, just like everyone else (Because why always them and never him? Who decides this? And why do they make such poor choices? He doesn't ask for much, just make it stop, just look at him!) And seeing how unfair the life is to other people, just like him? And seeing other "Dudleys" who got it all by chance? It's only logical that he wants it all to be fair.

(I thought of this word so much it had lost all meaning. How unfair. Lol)

Now let's see Hufflepuff's traits.

Fair play/fairness - we've covered that, I think.

But also worth to add, that while Slytherins have entitlement and Gryffindors have self-righteousness - and I also do not dispute that Harry had most traits from these houses - he has no reason to have these two. He has no entitlement (he grew up basically a slave, this baby boy is still getting used to the notion that he deserves love and freedom), he has no righteousness (again, previous point; but again, he was very sheltered from life, he does not know much that did not pertain to chores; he does not have many opinions that he would fight to death for and he doesn't always know what is right - all he knows is that everyone deserves a warm place to sleep and a kind word). So little self worth and very little understanding; but he can look at what is around him and compare and see what is fair. Like Snape's treatment of him? Not fair. Etc etc.

Loyalty - a boy, who never had a kind shoulder to cry on or a sympathetic ear, will hold onto - and thus be loyal to- anyone who shows him kindness. See canon: Hagrid, Ron. Then following the cause that got him first, see: light side (no, I'm not advocating for him to join V, but as someone who's completely new to this world, if someone else got to him first and presented their dark side of into as the right one, shaped him in that way, have him latch onto those beliefs first? Well. He is only a clueless child)

Hard work - now, Harry is no stranger of hard work (just ask his aunt, the spiteful bitch). He is fully capable of it. Does he want to relax? Sure, he deserves it, he should just because. Does his mind connect hard work and chores? I would speculate that yes. But the right environment (re: the badgers) can show him that hard work can be done to benefit himself, and not only others. That's a better motivation, isn't it?

Again, I do not say that this is the only house for him or that he has no other traits. I just feel that this house is in the running of the choices for him, it's not a two horse race. And it does not deserve the shunning and overlooking it usually gets.

Imagine if there was a Squid Game/Happy Potter universe fusion!

Everyone would be allowed wands, and it would be absolute massacre at the first round - tripping jinxes, petrifying charms, maybe something more bloody and debilitating etc - and everyone thinking they could cheat (except instead of technology, there’s some binging ancient artifact that sends out some sentient mist) and that they’re superior (a popular new way of last purebloods trying to prove that blood matters). And then somewhere by the third round most participants’ wands would be broken ‘cause they’re eliminating any advantage one might have, and only those with windless magic can survive as challenges (adapted to games or children stories of the magical world) progress.

And Harry would obviously be placed in the finals, and maybe he’d get killed, but hey- he comes jumping back up to his feet, ‘cause he still can’t die.

And the reason he even joined the game is because nothing interests him anymore after the war, no one wants to oppose him, and he’s just so bloody bored - and immortal, of course, so frustratingly immortal. So he joined to have some fun (as after everything, his morals are shot) and, if he’s lucky, die (fucking finally).

So he’s all blazé, running head first like that old guy in the first round, having fun, Potter luck on his side, and it’s not like anyone can judge him, they’ll be dead soon.

Everyone wants to team up with him (he’s the protector, so it should be the best strategy ever) and he finds more and more creative and magically obscure ways to avoid it cause he ain’t a saviour here (and maybe he enjoys defending himself when large groups of upstarts try to take him out at night and he can let his magic out to play).

The prize would be some terrifying magical power or maybe a certain unique Gift, and Harry definitely does not need it (even though all the others are salivating after it, purebloods thinking it will give them the power to bring back the good old times or whatever), he’s just here for the thrill.

And maybe he falls in love with the other finalist (because smart is attractive) and forgives them for killing him to survive in the final round (obv a Slytherin), and he sets to destroy the whole organisation afterwards because, finally! Some fun fun dangerous cause that requires his full magical reserves.

And then we’d break for the production of season 2/ second part of the series (because really, fanfiction is the likeliest route here).

Just something I though of in the shower.

"Hello, darling, have you heard?"

Harry looks up, pretending to be surprised by the sudden appearance of Draco, briefly looking him up and down, appreciating the fine figure before him, noting the satisfied expression on his lover's face.

"Heard what?" He says after clearing his throat - as if affected, as if stunned by the effortless grace before him.

Draco looks at him from his lashes and graciously sits down beside him.

"About the ball, of course. The staff must have grown bored this winter and decided to throw us one. Fourth year up invited."

His voice is so light, as if nothing could bother him, and this is just another entertainment. In all the ways, it is.

He leans in conspirationally and lowers his voice, all playfulness and mischief.

"Though I've heard there was a bet involved, and the ball will be the place to collect."

Harry lets himself smile humourously, as if it is all rather amusing.

Satisfied by the sensation delivered, Draco shifts closer to him, leaning in a bit in the front.

"What do you think about it?" He asks demurely, tilting his head a bit to the side, letting one single curl fall over his eye.

"About what?"

Harry is still cutting his eggs into pieces, looking up at Draco when the question strikes.

His lover lets himself only a tiny crease in the forehead, the only sign of his displeasure to be known, before shifting a tiny inch closer.

"The ball of course."

Harry's hands slow down. There is no right answer. If he gives in, he will get hurt. And although that has never stopped him before, he did make a resolution to himself - to stop fighting, to let it all go, to let this be.

To drift apart.

"Sounds nice."

He gives a tiny shrug and forks a small piece of his eggs.

Draco's eyes narrow. There is a war in his eyes - to throw a tantrum because he is not getting what he wants or play the game he thinks they play.

He choses neither. He fluidly slids back and straightens, his gaze languiously sweeping over the Great Hall.

When his wandering gaze seemingly accidentally lands on Davin Wallsworth, his features sharpen in hunger.

Harry's hand twitches and the fork clicks down on the plate.

They have walked this path already.

Harry would get jealous and ravish Draco in front of everyone.

Harry would get angry and have a spat over anything else.

Harry would get desperate and drag Draco to the nearest closet, to feel himself in control.

Harry would get pliable, and agree to anything Draco wanted.

Harry would get miserable and not talk to anyone for days.

Harry would grow numb, wishing he was never born.

So he does not reach out. He does not call out. He does not react.

"I bet the Ravenclaws know what the bet was about. See you soon, darling."

Draco leans over, smacks a kiss on his cheek and sashays away.

And Harry savours the kiss, perhaps the last one he would allow, even though it was not even for him, not really.

It was for Davis Wallsworth who was eyeing his Draco hungrily. It was for Draco, to make himself more eligible, more desired.

It was for the public, to show how much of a couple they are.

Whereas in truth, he is just Draco's Gryffindor lover.

He has allowed the first one. He thought it was his fault, he pushed Draco into someone else's bed.

He was so sure he regretted it afterwards he did not say a thing to Draco. Not a word. It never happened. They were good. All good.

And Draco was so relieved. That Harry, what he thought, did not know. That Harry wanted him still.

He was relieved and happy and over the moon.

But he was greedy for more.

Because the Malfoys not only liked eating their cakes, they liked hording the cookies and building the empire.

So he got greedy. And the string of lovers did not stop.

And Harry never said a word.

He will come back, he comes back to me every time, he thought. It's nothing serious, he loves me, he was convinced. He will grow up, he will stop, he hoped. It's just a phase, he pleaded. He will appreciate me more, he prayed. His coming back must mean something, was his mantra.

I love him too much, was him looking away.

And so off Draco goes, circling around the ravenclaw table, throwing glances at his current secret lover, not sitting down but bending over the table and posing.

Harry gently lays down his fork and looks down at his plate. The eggs are currently unrecognisable, butchered in hundreds of pieces. He sips from his cup, taked a breath, lets a small smile grace his face, and looks at Neville - is leafing through the herbology textbook again; it will not be hard to engage him in a conversation and then tactically retreat from looking at the mating rituals his lover is conducting just before him.

Lover, not boyfriend.

This is how it will be from now on.

Tactic #23. Cheapen your relationship so it would be easier to give it up (followed by tactic #24. Realise that it did not take much to do that and face the reality).

Draco expected him to ask him to a ball. That would go against the tactic #9. Do not ask him on dates.

He had to retreat with minimal damage.

Draco: Pansy, darling, this was a brilliant idea, mocking Gryffindors will be a tremendous laugh.

Pansy: It will be so unapologetically filthy just looking at their tasteless swimwear, It will inspire my insults for a week.

Draco: I bet Weasley doesn't have anything to wear.

Pansy: I bet Longbottom wears a one-piece.

Draco: I bet Thomas wears socks with flip flops.

Pansy: I am surprised you even know who that is, darling.

Draco: He lives with Potter.

Pansy: Ah, of course. Anyway, I bet Finnigan needs a safety ring.

Draco: I bet McLaggen needs water wings.

Pansy: I bet Pottet-

Draco: What?

Pansy: Err-

Draco: Potter what?

Pansy: Wears a tacky pink nose clip?

Draco: I'd say goggles over his glasses.

Pansy: I bet-

Draco: That's enough, darling. Any way we bet, they'll be so horrible I'll be ashamed to even share a continent with them.

*Finnigan and Thomas walk out wearing red and black swim trunks respectively*

Draco: Mm, I guess it could be worse.

Pansy: I don't even feel the urge to vomit.

*McLaggen steps out in orange swim briefs*

Pansy: Oh Merlin almighty, my eyes, my eyes, please spare me from the horrors of this disgrace.

Draco: He wore it inside out. And, huh,I guess the rumors were just that, rumors.

Pansy: I will never look at him the same.

Draco: I will never look at him at all.

Pansy: Appaling.

Draco: Revolting.

*Longbottom steps out in dark blue swim jammers that hug his new figure quite attractively, followed by Weasley in faded and a touch too small swim trunks*

Draco: Interesting.

Pansy: Yum.

Draco: I bed your pardon?

Pansy: I feel horny and proud.And I must say, this is the most unexpected combination I could've experienced when looking at Gryffindors.

Draco: Are you serious?

Pansy: Sweet Merlin and Morgana, look how tall they are, and how snugly that thin, elastic material just stretches deliciously over their-

Draco: You're exaggerating, Pansy. Just because it's not tragic does not mean-

Neville: Harry! Come on, don't make the blokes wait on their saviour.

Ron: Yeah, mate, you look fine. They really should cling that much.

*Potter comes out in dark red and a size or two too small square leg swimsuit*

*Draco's jaw drops and he barely manages not to choke on his spit. His head slightly turns to the left, then sharply to the right, trying to have a good look at- err, that gaudy material of the despicable smitrunks, yeah, sure - from all the perspectives.

Pansy: A rumor coming true has never been so sweet.

Draco: I- I-

Pansy: Just look at it.

Draco: *nods automatically*

Pansy: Every step he takes-

Draco: *licks his lips*

Pansy: It leaves absolutely nothing to imagination.

Draco: I- I want that in my m-

Pansy: Merlin, even I wouldn't say no if-

Draco: *snaps his head incredibly fast* Listen to me, you worthless slag, you will not even look at him, or think about him, no, I will even obliviate you, do you understand me, you miserable-

Pansy: Draco Lucius Malfoy, do dare to even finish that!

Draco:

Pansy: That was very rude, darling, and I understand your vexed state,after all, it did come as quite a shock, therefore, I will make a concession and let you apologise - and it better be the most heartfelt apology of your life - but later. For now, I think you have a bigger problem.

Draco: What? Where?

Pansy: The slag squad has just spotted your wonder boy and they have hunger in those mascara eyes.

Draco: I will insult him so bad he won't see anyone except me.

Fucking finally.

I have troubles with WiFi though and fucking roaming. My operator has put me through such a rollercoaster on my first day, there will be a hell to pay when I come back and can call them to get my money back.

WiFi doesn't work so no pictures, for anyone, anywhere.

An administrator on a reception tried to help me, couldn't do a bloody thing so he said it's because I have too many tabs open. And he closed like half a dozen until I could stop him.

He closed all the drarry fics that I planned to read! And now I can't bring them back! It's a fucking tragedy.

And WiFi still doesn't work.

On another note, a local bartender makes a mean vodka cocktail. So I'm chilling near the pool.

Also, there was a beginning of storm somewhere, mountains where ricocheting this fantastic sound of cracking thunder everywhere. The waves were fantastic, and I let them rock me gently until I could no longer bear the temperature. It was a nice first evening but among all the families and companies - it gets a bit lonely. Especially without internet and my drarry fics.

Draco: What exactly is the meaning of this?

Harry: We just- we won't be together anymore.

Draco: I am afraid I have no comprehension of such course of action. You will have to define it for me.

Harry: Draco-

Draco: Noone has ever left me before, so please be so kind to explain the situation to me, Harry.

Harry: We won't see each other again. Maybe, except for some social gatherings, I guess.

Draco: Well, I perceive such a resolution highly inconvenient and unfit for such a prospering, outrageously happy couple.

Harry: Happy? Happy?! Are you mad, Draco? I am fucking miserable, can you not see that? This is- this-

Draco: You are delusional is what you are, this is not going to work anyway. This is ridiculous, Harry. We cannot possibly not see each other, I need you.

Harry: I- I will always be there for you if you need me. But we just cannot be together anymore. Not as a couple.

Draco: This is beyond preposterous for I cannot see why we must be breaking up. I need you, and you will be there for me, and you love me, and I do not allow you to start that truly exasperating speach of yours on how you will always love me yet cannot bear to remain in a relationship with me. We live together, for Merlin's sake, and we are desperately in love, and I will not hear a thing about it further.

Harry: God, can't you understand, Draco? We won't live together anymore, we cannot possibly- you cannot possibly-. I'm moving out today.

Draco: Harry- Harry, you have not though it through. You cannot leave me, I absolutely forbid you.

Harry: You're such a fucking hypocrite.

Draco: This is your house! I redecorated this shithole for you, I made this our home! I left my parents home for you, and what would they say if they heard about this? You cannot possibly leave me alone here, the house belongs to you! Remember why you even wanted to stay here? Now you are willing to leave your treasured memories of Sirius for nothing? For some minor issues that are not even pose any problem after all? This is ridiculously unreasonable of you to even entertain this thought.

Harry: I will move out temporarily. You will have some time to pack up your things and find a new place to live. It will give you time you need, I can wait as long as I must.

Draco: Leave?! You cannot be seriously asking me to vacate the premises of the home we have spent so many precious years together! Harry. Harry, please, you have not given this sufficient thought, this is not the way for us to move forward.

Harry: This is the end, Draco. I- I already have my things, Ron's waiting for me.

Draco: Oh, I see how it is, your best pal must be extatic to have you back from the clutches of your temperamental boyfriend. He could not simply wait to see this union falter.

Harry: Jesus fucking Christ, Draco.

Draco: No! I absolutely forbid this! We both live here, we stay here, together, we love, and we- we are together.

Harry: How funny, eh, Draco? Love. Who do you love, Draco?

Draco: This is beneath you, Harry. Of course, I love you, who else could there ever be?

Harry: You love only one person in this world, Draco, and it's not me.

Draco: Looking out for oneself is natural! It's self preservation! How many years have I spent trying to teach you that?

Harry: I'm not getting into this discussion with you again. I'm done, Draco, just done. Send me an owl when you're ready to move.

Draco: No. No, no, no. Do you hear me, Potter, no! I won't leave, I will never leave, and neither will you. You will stay here, you will love me, we will be happy, and I will never hear such malevolently preposterous claim ever again!

Harry: Stop it! Just stop it! Stop hiding behind your posh accent and sophisticated language, or your parents, or your fucking made up naiveté! This is over!

Draco: Relationship is a two-way agreement,Harry, and cannot be broken just because you you decided otherwise.

Harry: You are fucking driving me insane, do you understand that? I cannot take this anymore, do you think I'm happy about this? You are the love of my fucking life and it's fucking killing me saying this to you, but this is over! You broke me, I am a broken man, can you not see? I have to find a way to piece myself together, especially without you, chipping away more than I manage to glue back.

Draco: But I'm yours. You chose me, and I gave myself to you. I'm yours.

I imagine a prudish, virginal, all so proud and proper Draco Malfoy being dared to work in a sex shop for a month.

And of course, he has to do it. So he arrives, all blushing and stuttering; the owner takes one look at him and wants to eat him right up. She seizes him and knows that this blond blushing boy will bring in some customers. So, depsite him having absolutely no experience, she hires him. And immediately gives him a tour. Draco is red and silent, his eyes darting around the shelves and then down. She gives him a big book with all of their items in stock - photos, descriptions and usage. And tells him that he should know every detail by the time his first day starts.

So Draco reads and learns.

He avoids people for a whole week after. Then, he starts his job.

Two weeks later comes in his friend, the one who dared him, with a cheerful Potter in tow. He though they could have a laugh. He is shocked to see Harry Potter aggressively snogging Draco Malfoy behind the curtain in just 10 minutes after they'd stepped in.

"When Harry's pissed, he's like a filthy beast

And fucks like a possessive dungeon master."

Potter and his boyfriend exchange appropriate plesantries: Nice to meet you. You too. Blah Blah /Draco can't wait to see Potter's face when he finds out, the fuck he cares about proprieties/

Draco: We have just came back from our holidays in France. Corvus has a delightfuly luxurious apartment right in the heart of Paris with a gorgeous terrace.

Potter: That's nice, Malfoy.

/And that's it. That's fucking it. No reaction. The fuck is wrong with the scarhead?/

Potter, smiles, and then has the audacity to turn away and ask the waiter: Can I have another cocktail , please? Thanks.

Draco, marches on: He is a very successful writer, you know, a very hot commodity in the Wizarding World.

Draco's date, just nods dumbly, and Potter dares to just smile, turn around, again, and ask: And do you still have those canapés' I like? Thanks

Draco, refuses to give up, and explains desperately: Corvus has a very big and thick cock! /Harry chockes on his drink/ Sex is explicitly fantastic!

Harry, looks at Draco a bit disturbed: You're fucking your cousin?

Draco, outraged: He's my boyfriend! And we are not related.

Harry, shocked: I just thought, his name is a constellation, oh god...Wait. Wait, what? You're gay?

Draco, shocked that Potter didn't know, stutters: Well, yes, I- yes.

Potter, bashfully ducks his head and shyly smiles at him from his fringe: Oh. That's nice. That's- yeah. /Looks up at Draco's boyfriend/ I think you got really lucky with this one.

Draco, fucking stunned, his lungs and heart seem like have left his body:

Harry, the tips of his red /Merlin's pants what/, murmurs: Oh, there's Luna. If you'll excuse me, I have a few questions about the menu /leaves/.

Draco, gulps down his entire drink, takes his hand away from his date, and says, completely disinterested and distracted: You can go now. Bye.

So you know that game Fuck/Marry/Kill?

I've been looking for some soul bond/ mates fics today and then I though

What if you had a tattoo with three names on your body, just like in a game?

And Harry would have Draco, and Ginny, and someone who's not Voldemort to make it interesting and really fucking confusing for Harry because

He was intimate only with Ginny. He planned to have sex only with her. He was pretty sure they'd marry after graduation. So

What the fuck?

Ahahahaha that's my thoughts at fucking sunrise. They really do come at the most ridiculous times. Anyway.

I know there are fics where a person has two names, their love and enemy. But was there something like this, with three?

Or something simpler. Still three names, but all possible soulmates. And they'd disappear if the person died, like some kind of elimination process, like the fittest is the most suitable to be your mate. Or if a person rejected them with firm resolution and unrelenting hatred.

I wonder, what would Draco think and do when Harry's name would disappear from his arm on the day the Saviour walked into that forest. Would it reappear? Not? Would Draco be glad of either? Would he be relieved at the first?