Tumgik
#jamethyst fanfic
itsjamethyst · 3 years
Text
Several Sentences Sunday
So, @nyleskies bet me to it this time, but thank you for the tag Nyle, it was a lovely surprise.
In this Several Sentence Sunday instalment I give to you a deleted scene from [redacted] fic. This was a fun little moment that no longer fit the tone and direction of the story so I had to unfortunately say goodbye to it. I thought what better way to bring it back to life than to share it? So here is the scene that never was, and the scene that never will be again. Rated T | WC 829
-
“You’re a bit gone to the rest of the world, mate. What’s up in that head of yours?” The couch dipped beside him, and Harry’s legs were shoved to the floor before cold hands wrapped around his ankles and hauled them up to rest over a lap.
Harry squinted up at the blurred, smirking face of George, huffed, and closed his eyes again.
“You look like death swallowed you up for breakfast. It’s not a fit look.”
“I was up late last night, give me a break,” Harry said, trying to swat away George’s hand as he ran fingers up and down Harry's leg.
“Doing what?”
“Doing who.”
The hand on his knee stopped moving suddenly, and Harry winked up at George.
“You’re bulshitting.”
Harry shrugged a shoulder, a smile toying at his lips. “Don’t tell Ron, he’d want to know all about it like the nosy git he is.”
“I’m so not a nosy git,” a voice said from right by his head. Harry looked up at the upside down figure of Ron, standing with his arms crossed beside the couch’s armrest. Harry hadn't even heard him come in. “Now, what are you lot talking about?”
Harry raised his eyebrows, but Ron didn’t even so much as blink.
“Our Harry’s been shagging,” George crooned.
Ron snatched the pillow from right underneath Harry’s head, chucking it to the floor so he could fit his arse on the armrest. The back of Harry’s head smashed heavily on Ron's bony knees, Harry groaned, rubbing at his skull.
“Mate! About time, yeah? Spinnet or Malfoy?”
Harry spluttered, choking on his saliva. He sat up pin-straight on the couch, turning a disgusted expression to Ron’s gleeful face. “What makes you think I’d shag Spinnet?”
“I s’pose you’re right. Spinnet’s hardly snarky enough for you, is she?”
Next to him, George snorted. Harry didn't even spare him a second glance, too focused on glaring at the dick he called his best friend. “I don’t know what you’re trying to say.”
“You get off on a bit of push back, don’t even deny it. I’ve been trapped in a dorm with you for the better half of seven years. Trust me, I know.”
Harry’s brain short circuited, but Ron continued speaking as if he didn’t even notice.
“Poor Neville was traumatised in third year, but by fourth we got him to join the bet.”
“The fucking what?” Harry shot up off the couch, yanking his glasses out of his pocket and shoving them askew on his face. Ron slid off the armrest to take Harry’s spot on the couch, a self-satisfied grin curled on his lips.
“You didn’t know? I thought you were tryna make me lose on purpose.”
“No! Of course I didn’t know. What bloody bet are you on about?”
Ron shrugged his shoulders, cracked his back, and slouched further on the couch. “We called it: What Malfoy-induced anger will spark the spunk out of Harry tonight! You and Malfoy would have a spat, and me, Nev, Dean, and Seamus would bet on whether it would be enough to get you going that night.”
Ron stopped to yawn. “I’m still pissed that I lost my Galvin Gudgeon poster because of you. I was sure you’d go wild with the Potter Stinks badges.”
“When did this start?” Harry said, his voice pitched a bit too high. He sent an aghast expression to George who looked as though he was having a right good time watching this unfold.
“I dunno, third year? After the Care for Magical Creatures lesson with Hagrid. I don’t mean to shame—I mean, you like what you like, but... Dementors, Harry? Really?”
“Don’t be a git, Ronikins, it’s the soul-sucking that gets Harry all hot under the collar.”
“I don’t—” Harry sighed, tilting his head up at the ceiling as if that would give him some sort of reprieve. Talk about a rude awakening, barely minutes ago he was snoozing under the soft sounds of the rain. Harry was wide awake now, no doubt about that.
“I bet Malfoy was real bossy last night, eh?” Ron waggled his eyebrows.
“Fuck off, he was nothing like that.”
Ron’s eyes bulged out of his head, and Harry didn’t understand what his problem was until his words came rushing back to him. He felt his whole body overheat as he held his head in his hands, listening to the obnoxious sounds of Ron and George pissing themselves laughing in front of him.
“Merlin’s saggy balls, Harry! Did you actually?”
Harry groaned into the sweaty palm of his hands. “I hate you.”
“Lighten up, mate,” George slapped a hand on his shoulder. “You’d think having a bit of a pull and tug would loosen you up.”
“Ah, maybe Malfoy’s all talk and no action.”
Harry snapped his head at Ron, then. Green eyes, hard and steely. “Hey,” he said slowly. “Don’t.”
Ron’s joking smile sobered a little at Harry’s tone. “Mate,” he said, shocked. “You’re a goner.”
-
With absolutely no pressure I tag these lovely people @opaleopioid @ginnyxdarling @tontonguetonks @cam-the-chameleon if you have anything you'd like to share.
139 notes · View notes
hd-remix · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media
Distilled
by @itsjamethyst
5,428 (T)
Inspired by Lights on the River (1K | T) by @DoubleAppled
Harry walks through the halls of Grimmauld Place for the last time. Unable to forget, and maybe never wanting to. But as the Grandfather clock strikes two, the door shutting closed behind him, Harry knows that he must get what he wants, and Harry has always wanted Draco.
________________________________
Author's Note: I'm so, so excited to share this piece. To DoubleApple, when I got you as my assignment for Remix I started digging through all your work, and although you made it quite difficult for me to choose between some amazing fics, as soon as I read Lights on the River, I instantly fell in love, and knew that this fic was the one for me. It is an absolutely gorgeous piece of writing. The concepts and themes you brought out, the tone, the style, I love it all. So here is my take on your lovely work. I hope I did it justice, and that you enjoy it almost as much as I enjoyed reading Lights on the River. Thank you so much to P for the wonderful beta, you're brilliant.
________________________________
Mod Note: While we would always encourage reading the fic which inspired a remix, you shouldn't feel you have to do so. It's OK to just dive straight into the remix!
Distilled
18 notes · View notes
itsjamethyst · 2 years
Text
H/D Career Fair 2021 Fic Claim
Tumblr media
I know this is quite the long time coming and I'm terribly, terribly late, but I'm finally back and I really can't wait to properly share this piece I wrote from this years' @hd-fan-fair. This story means the world to me, and none of this would have been remotely possible without the support of everyone involved. To my alphas and betas--thank you with all my heart for helping me bring this story alive. What could I possibly do without each and every one of you? @samyistrying @ronbinary, @fantalf, @pennygalleon, @cam-the-chameleon. More love to these people and some extra (spoilery) notes about the writing process under the cut, if you're interested to read it. Please heed the warnings before reading this story, and thank you for all the love! 💜
Baby's Eyes, Open Wide by J_Amethyst for gnarf
Career Theme: Draco - Kindergarten Teacher | Harry - Orphanage Owner
Rating: Mature
Warnings/Content Notes: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Minor Character Death, Loss of a Child, Slow Burn, Angst with a Happy Ending, Harry and Draco with little kids, Drarry Working Together
Summary: This is a story about coming back to life, though it has nothing to do with resurrection. Instead, here lies a journey of moving on and finding home, and two broken people discovering what it truly means to be alive.
Featuring: A little dog with grey and white polka dots. Galaxies, supernovas, and the brightest of stars. Large eyes, chubby cheeks, tiny hands, and the littlest feet.
Word Count: 39,870
...
Excerpt:
He knelt down on his knees, looking at Albus at eye level.
“The people we love most will never, ever leave us. Your Daddy will never leave you, neither will James and Lily, nor Uncle Sirius... Even if they don’t have a place among the stars, you’ll never be alone. Do you know why, Albus?”
“Why?”
Draco placed his palm over Albus’ chest, right where the Sirius star had rested. “Because this, right here, is the brightest star in the universe. Our heart, Albus, is where the people we love most will always stay. Home. Even when they’re very far away.”
Beside him, Albus gasped as a burning star erupted into a kaleidoscope of colour. An explosion that burst around them into thousands of little droplets, falling like paint from the sky.
The supernova purled around their bodies, covering their skin in soft washes of purple and pink and blue and orange. It looked as if they were standing at the precipice of a bleeding sunset. One that was shining and glittering in magical patterns over the stretch of black sky.
Draco heaved, his heart stuttered in his chest, body burning as colour—beautiful colour—cascaded down from his head to the very tips of his toes. He shivered as the phantom sensations touched his skin, raising goosebumps along his arm.
“Mr. Malfoy?”
“Yes?”
“Have you scratched your knees?”
CONTINUE READING ON AO3
SPOTIFY PLAYLIST
...
Thank you for all the love in the comments; I cherish every single one of them. And thank you endlessly for reading, I hope you enjoyed the ride.
Fic Diary under the cut.
Aka Jess, as usual, has a lot to say about this fic and doesn't want to pollute your dashboard. If you’re interested to read some behind the scenes where I can finally share and talk about the Spotify Playlist that accompanies this fic, read on.
Spoilers ahead!
Okay, now, I hope we’re all comfortable and settled in, let's get intimate.
I’m joking.
Seriously though, Baby’s Eyes is probably one of the most personal things I’ve ever written, the biggest endeavour so far, and has quickly become my favourite piece of writing I’ve ever, ever created.
From start to finish, this really was an unbelievable ride.
I want to use this ‘diary entry’ of sorts, as a way to document my thoughts and feelings about Baby’s Eyes, because I think it would be really interesting to come back to later on as a little memento to keep.
The topics I want to touch on are as follows;
The Overture. The Title. The Music.
Overture.
The Overture was quite the work in progress, but I am so, so happy it was received well. It came about after a good ten thousand words which meant there were so many rearranging of scenes. Weaving it through the fic was quite the mammoth task I didn’t realise I was getting myself into.
For anyone who has read any of my previous works, I have some strange attachment to section breaks: Delicious Delirium had the time skips, Your body is my canvas had the song lyrics, No, he whispered had the the Key Signatures, and going back to where it all began: The Tale of Two Mysteries and the poem I wrote to separate each chapter. I don’t think it’s a huge surprise that I enjoy repetition. In fact, The Tale of Two Mysteries, (a SKAM France fic) is the origin of the whole rhyming thing, and for some reason became quite intrinsically tied with Baby's Eyes.
I wanted every line of the Overture to mirror/foreshadow each scene it represents, and one of my favourite mirroring sections is this:
But home simply does not exist. How can it? When you’ve gone so far away.
And how that directly mirrors the scene between Draco and Scorpius and their conversation about what moving on means. I felt particularly proud of that scene, especially the insistence/imagery of the silence and loneliness that surrounds Draco’s house.
The Title.
Gosh, to be honest I can’t believe I’m going to talk about this.
At this point I had no title, and I put the line Baby’s Eyes, Open Wide in the Overture unsure if I was going to keep it that way. It was a spontaneous thing, but as soon as I wrote it in the doc, I knew I loved it.
When I get writer's block, 95% of the time I scour other things I’ve written and plagiarise get inspired by my other works. Usually, I look through my songwriting notebook for inspiration, and this time was no different. I saw the lyric “baby’s eyes open wide” from a song I wrote last year, I laughed a little, mumbled, it kind of fits. But afterwards I read the lyrics of the rest of the song in an entirely new way, and the more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea of using it as the title.
And because of that, the title became so much more personal and important to me, and I think that set a precedent for the rest of the fic.
The Music.
This story would hardly be what it is without the music, so much so that I can pick out particular scenes or moments in the fic and recount exactly which songs I was listening to while writing.
The biggest influences, besides the obvious song Harry sings in the fic-- Don't you by Darren Criss (Surprised? I don't know how I stayed anonymous during this fest either).
Wildflower - Dave Barnes
Remember - Seinabo Sey, Jacob Banks
Goodnight Moon - Go Radio
Come Home - OneRepublic
Heaven's Not Too Far - We Three
This is the reason why I couldn't release the playlist while the fic was anonymous, for anyone who has ever spoken to me just a bit will probably recognise one of these songs or artists. Consistent predictability is my middle name.
But the biggest, most important song to me in this fic is what's written on the tin-- Baby's Eyes, Open Wide, which is subsequently not the name of the song that I wrote, but still. I did slightly tamper with the lyrics to fit the story more, but these are part of the original that's featured in the fic:
In an old memory of long forgotten times, Like a shadow in the night that we can’t leave behind. Baby's eyes open wide, dreaming of the future Who will she be, eventually inside? ... In the end do we know who we’ll be, or we became? Dreaming up to summer skies, I know I am where I’m meant to be. In an old memory of long forgotten times.
I changed 'summer skies' to Northern Skies for a couple of reasons-one, I have a bit of an attachment to the Northern star, Polaris, and the Aurora Borealis which are the Northern lights. Polaris is all about finding home, and I think it fits so effortlessly for Draco's situation, and I think I like the change more than the original so perhaps the changed lyrics may be more permanent now.
Part of this song is written from the perspective of someone holding their young child and wondering about who they will grow up to become in the future. Maybe you'll no longer be there to see them, will they still feel the influences you had on them when they were young? To me, the song is first and foremost about growth, and it's the song that Draco sings to Scorpius every night before he goes to sleep, and I suppose the saddest part is that Draco will never be able to watch who his son becomes as he grows up.
Which is really heartbreaking, I know. I'm sorry?
Either way, this is why this story has just become so special to me-from beginning to end, and I honestly couldn't have done this without my dream team, so before I end this long post, I want to personally thank everyone.
@samyistrying the first person to set eyes on this idea and was the biggest help with sorting out the timeline of the fic. Honestly this would have been a jumbled mess without you.
@fantalf my absolutely phenomenal alpha, as usual. You really just know exactly how to make my work so much better, and you are probably the only reason I was able to finish this fic at all. I'm sorry that this was such an emotional rollercoaster of a fic, but thank you so much for all your help. You're a gem.
@ronbinary my lovely sensitivity reader, you really helped bring Noble and all the sensory scenes to life, of which I thank you dearly because they were some of the most difficult but rewarding scenes to write.
And finally my betas
@cam-the-chameleon who doesn't even need an introduction. You were integral to my very first long fic- A Descent into Delicious Delirium and once again in Baby's Eyes. My gratitude for all your help is boundless.
@pennygalleon who swooped in so very last second and helped beta the end of this fic in its final moments before it was due, and without even knowing what it was about. That paint scene was the bane of my existence, so thank you immensely for your help because I definitely needed it!
I think that's everyone and all the thank yous. A definite big thanks to the mods for allowing me all the extensions to get this fic wrapped up. This was my very first fan fair, and I had such a blast being a part of this fest, I cannot wait to join again and create something else--hopefully less angsty, but definitely no promises. I doubt anyone's read this far, but if you are, thanks for indulging in my lengthy rambles.
34 notes · View notes
itsjamethyst · 2 years
Text
HD-Remix 2021 FIC CLAIM
Tumblr media
The biggest thank you possible to my alpha @fantalf and beta @pennygalleon for helping me with this story, and thank you to the @hd-remix mods for putting together such a wonderful fest.
Distilled by J_Amethyst for DoubleApple
Rating: Teen
Tags: Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Post-Hogwarts, Angst with a Happy Ending, Pining Harry Potter, Smoking, Swimming, Kissing underwater, Water Caves, Remembralls (Harry Potter), Memories, Living Together, Friends to Lovers, Banter
Word Count: 5.4k
Summary:
Harry walks through the halls of Grimmauld Place for the last time. Unable to forget, and maybe never wanting to.
But as the Grandfather clock strikes two, the door shutting closed behind him, Harry knows that he must get what he wants, and Harry has always wanted Draco.
Excerpt:
The sound of polished shoes drumming against wood made Harry snap his head to the door, wand pointing to a chest clad in a fitted blue shirt. Harry’s gaze travelled up to meet Malfoy’s steel eyes, a cigarette held between long fingers.
“What are you doing here?” Harry said roughly. “I thought you were supposed to be in France today.”
“Indeed,” was all Malfoy said, as he traced his eyes over the rubble of the living room. Shreds of material littered the floor, charred black stains bloomed against woven flowers. “You’re destroying centuries worth of ancient history, you know.” Malfoy closed the distance, eyebrows furrowed in a frown as he ran his palm over what was left of the curtains. “Original Indian Chintz. Seventeenth century. These are all hand-drawn designs, Potter. You can’t get colours like this anymore, even with magic.”
Harry stared at the ruin of the curtains and back at Malfoy, who gently thumbed a red flower as if it meant so much more than a bit of fabric in a dusty, old house. “What are you doing here, Malfoy, you can’t keep barging into my home without permission.”
Malfoy stepped back, blowing a waft of smoke away from the curtains. “Granger said you’ve been acting more strange than usual. I’m here to make sure you haven’t ruined my house more than you already have.”
Harry crossed his arms. “This isn’t your house. Just because you have family history here doesn’t mean you can take it from me. This is all I have left of them.”
The tip of the cigarette burned from between Malfoy’s lips as he inhaled the smoke. He took his time responding to Harry, as if he were savouring the words in his mouth like the bitter taste of tobacco.
“And yet,” he began slowly, a tendril of smoke swirling in the air and bursting between them. “Here you are tearing it down piece by piece.” Malfoy stepped forward, back straight and foreboding as he leaned in close to Harry. Breath hot and burning as it shattered against Harry’s cheeks. “You say that you don’t want to forget the people you lost, and yet staying here in this place is only killing you too.”
READ MORE ON AO3
More notes beyond the cut!
I had such an amazing time writing this fic, I really wanted to capture a certain reminiscing atmosphere throughout it. Here, Harry walks through the halls of Grimmauld place, stuck in a reverie of his life with Draco up until this point. What I find most interesting about this fic is how the whole story mainly surrounds Harry's memories. It's probably one of the most simplest stories I've written plot-wise, but there's just something special that I really like about this one. It kind of reminds me of the time I did the same thing years ago, walking through a house for the very last time, trying to soak up all the memories and emotions you've ever felt in that place for fear you'll forget or lose them if you don't.
I don't know how to properly describe this fic, so instead, I'll let google do the talking.
When you distill something, you are boiling it down to its essence — its most important part. Whether it's alcohol or ideas, the distilled part is the most powerful.
For me, the most simple, mundane things can be the most powerful. Whether it's a small gift someone gave you way back when, an old photo album you've never seen before, a dusty floral curtain... they're all small, important parts of something much larger.
26 notes · View notes
itsjamethyst · 3 years
Text
Tumblr media
A Descent into Delicious Delirium by J_Amethyst for swisstae
Title: A Descent into Delicious Delirium
Rating: M
Wordcount: 27,273
Content Tags: Quidditch Player Harry Potter, Quidditch Player Draco Malfoy, Enemies to Lovers, Angst with a Happy Ending, Slow Burn, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Resolved Sexual Tension, Implied Sexual Content, Sexual Humor, Drinking, Clubbing, Drunk Harry Potter, Bets & Wagers, Pining Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter in Denial, Period-Typical Homophobia, Quidditch Seekers, The Daily Prophet.
Harry makes a few piss-poor decisions. Malfoy’s still a rich prick. The lesson to be learned here: Don’t engage in a disastrous game of chicken. Unless, of course, you enjoy the idea of a naked photoshoot, and the entire Wizarding World believing you get off on Malfoy. The following is a recount of the course of events that unfolded. *All named persons have consented to the retelling of this story with stipulations of authorial dramatic flair. The author does not condone the views expressed and reflected by Rita Skeeter, The Daily Prophet, and other associated entities.
Now to thank some truly wonderful people, and a customary over-the-top spiel about how sappy I am about this fic.
I am unbelievably over the moon to finally talk about and share this fic with everyone. Writing this was such an amazing experience, and is possibly one of my favourite fics I've written to date. I feel like I say this every time a new fic gets revealed, but honestly speaking, every time I think about this fic I feel all happy inside.
Now that this fic is revealed, I can finally share that this Several Sentence Sunday post that a lot of people seemed to like is actually the deleted scene from this fic.
I want to thank everyone who helped make this story possible, so without further ado, give it up to all these phenomenal people: My alphas, @manixzen and @fantalf, you are both wonderful and were absolutely integral to this fic. From helping me with the tone and the pacing, and perfecting the events of the story.
To my beta @cam-the-chameleon, I don't even know what to say, because no words seem enough. Without you I don't think this fic would have even be possible. You are so thorough and your suggestions are always genius, some of my all time favourite moments in this fic were from your brilliant mind (WAGGLY, Horny Porker, doesn’t seem so inclined to keep away from big pairs of balls!) -- just to name a few.
Seriously, I am so proud of this story and I hope that everyone who read it enjoyed it as much as I did writing.
To the @quidditchfest mods, thank you for creating such an amazing fest. This was the very first fest I ever signed up to, and all I can say is that I am so glad to have participated.
Finally, to @swisstae. Your comments on every chapter of this fic were amazing, I am truly astonished. Thank you so, so much for all your love on that fic, I can't stop myself from going back and reading your comments... And dying a bit inside.
This fic was a lot of firsts. For one, it went through many, many changes during its infant stage. The time skips and the Prophet Article titles actually came a lot later on in the writing process. I was about half way into the fic when I completely changed the whole timeline, shifted scenes around, and decided to try the time skip headings. It was all a bit experimental, I had no idea if I was going to keep it in the final cut, but at the end of the day I'm so glad I did, because the time skips make Delicious Delirium what it is.
For the first time, I tried my hand at a little more light-hearted humour. Most of the fic is just me trying to make myself giggle with my shitty twelve-year-old humour. I'm so glad that my beta Cam shares this same humour, because we really did bounce off each other perfectly. Re: Horny Porker, doesn’t seem so inclined to keep away from big pairs of balls!
The Prophet Articles were also really entertaining to write, my favourite one is the Lockhart article. If you've read the fic, you know the one. Am I allowed to give myself a pat in the back for coming up with that Lockhart joke? Because I love it, and I was absolutely grinning when a commenter pointed that one out.
Thank you to everyone who engaged with the fic, it means the world.
34 notes · View notes
itsjamethyst · 3 years
Text
Six-Sentence-but-I'm-an-over-achiever-and-it's-Tuesday
Thank you @ginnyxdarling for the lovely tag! Once again I'm smothered by top secret fest fics, but this little thing is a wip I started last year that I would love to come back to. Dusting this off from the growing pile of on-hold fics has given me a really big idea, and an intense drive to write more banter. When can we start making days 48 hours long?
“Ah, long time no see, Auror Potter. Last time we crossed paths I was where?—oh, in Auror custody! As they say, history has a funny way of repeating.”
“Get off the table.”
“You’re a bossy one, aren’t you?” Malfoy mused, but he slid off the table and sat on the empty chair where the seedy man had been.
“How are you involved in the De Vere disappearances?” Harry said, wasting no time.
“I’m not.” The amusement on Malfoy’s face melted into neutrality. His voice, however, was pointed. Sharp. He had a lot to hide... Interesting.
“I said yes to your higher ups on the stipulation that I wouldn’t be interrogated.”
“That was before I saw a man disappear into thin air by your own hand.” Harry drummed his fingers along the table—it was sticky—Harry didn’t wish to think about it too much.
“I’m not a hitman, I’m a Professional Vanisher. There's a difference, and if I were you, I'd start respecting my craft, lest the Wizarding World hears of the untimely disappearance of their favourite Saviour.”
Harry leaned even further forward, their noses almost touching. “Are you threatening an Auror, Malfoy?”
"Threatening?" Malfoy laughed, low and calculated as if he had rehearsed this very conversation. Beat for beat. Every verbatim. "Unlike you, I don't do empty threats, that implies I can’t follow through on my word. I always keep my word, Potter."
-
I'd love to tag with absolutely no pressure; @nyleskies @pennygalleon @opalwritesopioid @cam-the-chameleon and anybody else who wants to join! x
53 notes · View notes
itsjamethyst · 3 years
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Entwined with yarn and wrapped in leather. by J_Amethyst for 112ance
Rated T | Words: 3,400
Epistolary, Diary/Journal, Memories, Fluff, Angst, Time Skips, Hogwarts Era, Post-Hogwarts, Growing up, Growing Old
Two life journeys told within the pages of a yarn notebook. Eventually, paths intertwine, and old ink on yellowed parchment becomes a little book filled with bittersweet memories and pretty happy endings.
To @nyleskies for your birthday. I really hope you enjoy this. I wish you the happiest of birthdays.
_
When Draco was little, his mother gave him a small, leather notebook on his birthday, bound with yarn and threaded with a gold key.
“Our feelings are like memories,” she had said. “As time passes they become more hazy—blurred around the edges. Until one day we wake up and realise that we have forgotten what it means to be alive. Instead, we become familiar with living in the numbness, because our childish joy and wonder has withered with the weather, aged with the lines and wrinkles carved on our face. You see, Draco, it is not wise to treat your life as something as fleeting as a memory. A Pensieve can paint a beautiful picture, after all, but that is meaningless if we have lost the true feelings of being alive.”
Back then, Draco didn’t know what she meant, but there was something glinting in the pool of her eyes that made him run his fingers along the smooth leather of the cover. Trace the spiral of yarn down its spine. Feel the cold, sharp ridges of the key.
When Draco first opened the notebook, he didn’t know what he had expected. Perhaps he expected something magical, a thrum of pure power pulsing through his body, righting all the wrongs of the world with the very fibres of plain parchment. Perhaps he expected one of those feelings his Mother had been talking about—a spark of curiosity, the excitement of discovering something new.
But Draco felt nothing.
It was just a plain leather book with blank yellowed pages, and an ordinary string of yarn.
Three months later, Draco took the notebook to Hogwarts with him.
Continue reading on Ao3
34 notes · View notes
itsjamethyst · 3 years
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
No, he whispered. Until the answer became yes. by J_Amethyst | M | 7,211
When it's the end we'll meet again. In another time and another place, the clock will reset, and we shall retrace. But for now, if you'd allow, let me make one more wrong turn. Then we can say our goodbyes and take our final bow.
This is a beginning and an end, though, not in that order. But don't worry dear reader, this is not a sad story. No, not at all, because here, the hope lies on the other side of the curtain call.
Or: A lonely, broken Draco finds solace in a reflection of green eyes and messy black hair. Set over the course of seventh year and beyond.
A fic I wrote for the r/fanfiction Monthly Prompt Challenge. Featuring: A pining, lonely, and slightly cynical!draco. Did I mention pining? Poor guy goes through it a bit in this.
If you like to listen to music while you read, you can check out the Spotify playlist I made here.
(None of the images above are mine).
58 notes · View notes
itsjamethyst · 3 years
Text
Last Line Game
Thank you to @isamijoo for the tag! Once again almost everything I'm working on right now is an anonymous wip, but this piece is something I've been toying with for a while, so once fests are over, I'll be excited to properly sink my teeth into.
Rated T, 350 words.
...
DISC ERROR…MISSING FILE
➤➤❙ [Fast Forward]
May, 2002
Harry J. Potter:
You’re killing yourself, is that what you want? Is this the man you want to be when you die? A coward?
That statement had been the deciding factor, the entire reason this mess had all begun. Not that we knew that, at the time.
Draco L. Malfoy:
Get the fuck away from me.
Harry J. Potter:
You see, you need to understand that I’ve never been your Golden Boy, or your Saviour, or whatever other trite you’ve imagined me up to be. I did all I had to do simply because it was right, and that hasn’t made me any stronger, or braver, or greater than anyone who has ever been by my side.
So, I ask you all to look me in the eye and see me as a man; not your Chosen One. A man who has hurt and been hurt in return. A man who has done just as much wrong as right—because I’ve never claimed to be perfect. I’ve made my fair share of mistakes, and every single day I’m constantly reminded of them.
Draco L. Malfoy:
You don’t understand, Potter. I’ve got nothing left. Anyone who has ever truly known me is dead. Buried beneath my feet.
Harry J. Potter:
But I’m also reminded of all the good things that have come from those mistakes.
This is your last chance. I’m never coming back again. Are you with me, Malfoy, or are you against me?
The repercussions of every action, of every single word we speak, sometimes, they’re solidifying. Final. And we don’t really realise what has happened until it’s far too late, until we look back at everything and finally understand the moment that made our lives unravel.
For me, that moment came a couple of times. The first one, we’ll get to. But the last mistake I ever made is the reason I’m sitting here right now.
Falling in love with Draco Malfoy...
In the middle of a fucking war, no less. Because I've never done anything by halves, now have I?
...
With no pressure, tagging the lovely @opalesqueopioid, @nyleskies @pennygalleon @anaxandria-writes x
14 notes · View notes
itsjamethyst · 3 years
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Sundrop Flowers on a Winter’s Evening by J_Amethyst | T | 1,885
As the evening sun melted over the horizon on a lazy Sunday, Harry broke the news that they were adopting another puppy. A-piss-all-over-the-floor-type-puppy.
Draco’s reaction was quite justified, thank you very much.
(Comes with pissing dogs and thirsty wizards, not sold separately.)
I did it again. But this time, it's purely tooth-rotting fluff, snarky banter, lots of love, and low-bar humour. Angst? No, she's not welcome here.
I had such a wonderful time writing this little guy. It was a much needed break from the heavier stuff I've been working on. And I have to say, I've been enraptured by the fluff—I will do again.
Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoy it.
(None of the images are mine).
27 notes · View notes
itsjamethyst · 3 years
Text
The golden seconds of time drip between us like blood.
by J_Amethyst
There’s never enough time. But in these last drawn out seconds like a fleeting exhalation of breath, maybe, just maybe, there’s enough time to change everything.
If only you’d come with me.
Blinding, white lights. Searing, blistering pain.
My body caves into its pull, and I’m drowning, drowning, drowning, until every stifled breath succumbs to the bloodied water; my muscles soaked and numb.
Time ticks like an echo chamber in the back of my mind. Loud and consuming; a reminder of the choice that dangles before me. A heavy, constricting weight around my neck. As each second blooms and dies, the edges of my vision collapse. Through slitted eyes I see Potter loom over me, bloodied hands dripping to that same, ticking beat.
He whispers something, over and over like a plea to the void: I’m sorry. Perhaps it’s wishful thinking that he feels remorse, but I can’t recognise Potter’s voice anymore. I’ve forgotten the melody of his laugh, or that particular way he utters my last name.
All I can remember is the sound of Potter’s voice screaming Sectumsempra!
Why does it have to be like this? Just once, I want to hear him whisper, Draco as if he means it. As if my name falling from his lips is a magic he’s never tasted before.
Tears roll down my cheeks, suffocating the back of my throat. I can’t speak, but I feel my mouth form the shape of his name.
Harry.
It tastes salty and bitter, but freeing. I don’t know if Harry understands, or if he even catches me trying to whisper his name. Perhaps, it’s for the better.
Time is slipping, fading between my fingertips. It’s too late to change the past. I’ve lost my chance, and so I wait patiently for the final knell.
It never comes.
In an instant, Harry's fingers grip the gold chain around my neck. A twist, three times. And suddenly, the world is spinning, spinning, spinning...
It's the beginning of our second chance, and I take my very first breath.
AO3
20 notes · View notes
itsjamethyst · 3 years
Text
Your body is my canvas, I paint love on your heart. Your touch is a melody, I sing: please heal my scars. by J_Amethyst for HeadGirl91
T | 4,533 | Tattoo Artist Harry Potter, Magical Tattoos, Dark Mark, Inspired by Hadestown.
Tumblr media
And there, carved in every black line, draped and shaped around him like rivers of time. His life. His heart, the present and the past, made up of all the sum of his parts. For his body was his canvas, and the ink was his paint, and he drew a story over each and every scar that remained.
Or: Harry Potter is a tattoo artist, and Draco Malfoy is always running away. This is a story about healing the deepest of scars through ink, and the warm touch of a lover's hand.
I am so, so, so excited to finally talk about this little creation! So firstly—yes, it's the one with the terribly obnoxious title. Apologies to the Make It Musical mods for having to deal with this long title. It's quite the mouthful, but well, you might as well go big or go home. Besides, what other title could possibly accompany a 4k word rhyming monster?
When I tell you that this fic took over my life while writing, it is 100% not an exaggeration. For weeks I couldn't properly read other fics without identifying every single rhyme, and reading absolutely everything with a weird poetic cadence that was stuck in my head.
I'm overjoyed that I can finally scream about how much I'm in love with this artwork. @kryskrosszee thank you endlessly for your amazing hard work, I'm just in awe of your talent. Just look at it, isn't it beautiful? I'm still pinching myself that I can actually say that one of my works has an artwork attached to it. The artwork is beyond gorgeous. Please go support all their art and give them all the love they deserve!
While this fic was quite the difficult task—lots of hairpulling and hours combing through rhymezone, I feel like the end result was so undeniably worth it. I couldn't have done it without the help of some truly phenomenal people. @opalesqueopioid @softlystarstruck @charlie9646 @kryskrosszee. All these wonderful people helped me put this vision together, so thank you to my alpha and betas for being a part of this.
Hadestown is one of my all time favourite musicals, so seeing this prompt was a match made in heaven. So if you don't know anything about Hadestown, the least you can do is listen to the beautiful song this fic is inspired by All I've Ever Known
Lastly, a huge thank you to @hp-make-it-musical-fest for putting so much time, love and energy into creating and managing this fest. I had an amazing time participating, and every single work is outstanding.
17 notes · View notes
itsjamethyst · 3 years
Text
Six Sentence Sunday
(But it's almost Tuesday, what even is time anyway?)
Thanks to @tontonguetonks for the tag!
I wrote this at some point during the week. Do I know what it's about? No. Do I know what I'm going to do with it? No. Does it have to be this angsty for no reason? Yes.
This section is high key inspired by Jerome Valeska from Gotham, which is all the reason why this turned out as angsty as it did. Blame him, not me.
If you'd also like to participate, I tag @nyleskies @opaleopioid and @pennygalleon and anybody else who wants to join.
A concrete prison. Walls of stone streaked in grime and dried flakes of blood. Malfoy stood in the middle of it, slipping into the cup of madness as each second drained from the palm of his bony hands. Harry could see it slowly unfold in the dimming light of his eyes, the way it seeped out of the growing pores in his skin, sucked the life out of him until he was nothing but a vessel of skin and bone. Sunken eye sockets and a drooping mouth; a stapled face mask hanging loose over the stretch of swollen muscle. He used to be attractive, in a frightening sort of way. Once you looked at him it was like the rest of the world faded. Every moral, every inhibition melted into the slow stretch of his lips as he smirked, turning you to putty in his hands.
14 notes · View notes
itsjamethyst · 3 years
Text
Several Sentences Sunday
A big thanks to @bubble-gumhead for tagging me in this!
I've currently got more WIPS than my little hands can hold, and a lot of them are for fests so they are top secret!
But I do have a fun snippet from my longest WIP yet. I'm so excited to share this one, so here's a sneak peek into a project I've called Of Beautiful Lies.
I'd like to tag the lovely @nyleskies @opalwritesopioid and @tontonguetonks and anyone else who wants to join! Let's spread the love!
The lake split in two as Potter emerged from the deep. He was drenched, his uniform clung to him as water purled down his body in wet ribbons of silk. Potter made his way up to the shoreline, and both him and Draco were on opposite sides, an entire world between the few inches that separated them. Potter’s feet submerged into the icy abyss, and Draco on the solid, dry ground.
He found himself taking a step closer, nonetheless, as if pulled by the current. Or pulled by nothing but Potter’s presence. His magnetism reeled him in and pushed him away. A constant fight, where the rules between right and wrong became blurred as the water edged them even closer together.
Potter’s hand ran down the length of Draco's arm. His fingers were wet, but they alighted a burning trail of flames in their wake. He stopped at Draco’s wrist, and thumbed at the delicate bones that stretched his skin paper-thin. He pushed away the black chain cuffed to his wrist, and with slow, gentle fingers, brushed at the bubbled, red scars that stained his skin. He felt each heavy breath that Potter took, whilst Draco could do nothing but stand frozen and breathless.
“What did they do to you?” he whispered.
And right here, right now, Draco understood exactly what it meant to want something. Completely and unabashedly. That want travelled from his wrist and slowly back up his arm. Across his chest. Over his beating heart. Down the length of his green silk lapels, and all the way into his pocket. Where Potter pulled out one shining gold Galleon.
Draco’s signature glinted mockingly at him from underneath the warm blush of the sun, and Potter ran his finger along his name like it meant more to him than the aftermath of drunken stupidity. He traced each dent and every divot, and Draco could still feel the rough pads of his fingers move across his flesh like the morning tide. Slow but consuming—that feeling of falling into a pool of viscous ink, limbs numb as they turned to liquid. But it was also a reminder of holly and phoenix feather. The whisper of Potter’s magic that ignited and pulsed through his veins, underneath his skin. Warm, burning and turbulent, and silky smooth like the sweet touch of honey.
Foreign familiarity. A polarity that was never meant to meld, and yet, as each second stretched on between them, it felt imminent.
“If I let you, would you promise not to hate me?” he said. And somewhere between Potter’s journey from his wrist to his chest, Draco found his fingers wound tightly in Potter’s dripping shirt.
“I stopped hating you the day I saw you lying on the floor, bathing in your own blood.”
Draco nodded his head, and finally, finally, released the shaky breath he had been holding since he had stepped over that threshold. Out of the darkness and into the pouring sun.
“Okay,” he gasped. “Okay.” He stared down at Potter, lost in striking eyes. And even though he was so uncertain, drowning on dry land, he couldn’t find it in himself to regret his next words.
“Call me Draco.”
12 notes · View notes
itsjamethyst · 3 years
Text
Tumblr media
Sweet Trouble, Bitter Temptation by J_Amethyst | T | 1,063
Clubbing, Post-Hogwarts, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Pining Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy is a Tease, Smoking, Flirting, Harry Potter in Denial, Kissing
Your entire life can change in a single second.
You don’t realise until after it collapses and you’re left standing—soiled in sweat—wondering how much can go wrong before the sweet breath of a cigarette teases your tongue.
Quidditch robes curve around Malfoy’s every sharp line and muscle. His head tips back and I drink the bead of sweat slipping down his throat with my eyes. Silver flickers to green, a glass of Butterbeer between blush-pink lips.
Darkness swallows us, but through the crack in my glasses, all I can see is Malfoy. My senses drown with him. I haven’t had a lick of alcohol and yet I’m completely drunk. The dim lights in the club pulse with tension, and Malfoy’s body preens under it, glistening and wet.
I inhale his stare and breathe it back out, the slow drawl of smoke a tether between us.
Malfoy leans into my breath, licks the sheen of foam off wet lips. “So what’s it going to be, Potter?” he whispers.
“You already know the answer.” My voice is raspy, and Malfoy caves under the sound. I see it in the way he parts his lips, his eyes fluttering closed, a slip of silver against dilated pupils. It sends a shiver down my spine, and I take another draw, breathe in, breathe out.
“You’re killing yourself,” Malfoy says as he takes the cigarette from my lips and sucks it in between his own. This familiar dance we’ve been toying with sparks a fire within me. We’re teetering on the edge, seconds before slipping—the adrenaline is intoxicating, I want to melt into Malfoy's mouth. His hands. His stare. I’m dripping with the desperate desire, but I stay exactly where I am. Too close to breathe, too far that I might collapse with the need.
It’s always the same game, we tease and we take, but we never give in to each other's taste.
I don’t know what will happen once we do.
...
Keep reading on ao3
7 notes · View notes
itsjamethyst · 3 years
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
In a dark quiet place. by J_Amethyst for 112ance
Sometimes life’s biggest, most amazing occurrences happen for a reason you’ll never know the true answer to.
A short story about facing fears, Forbidden Forests, perseverance, and Patronuses.
I wrote this for an incredible person and an even more incredible friend @nyleskies who is 112ance on Ao3.
I hope you enjoy this, and gives you even the smidgen of the happiness you gave me when you gifted me you are now [my] home and [my] world
8 notes · View notes