#wip snip

[oflights]

wip snip 5.1

i've been tagged a bunch of times over the past few weeks to post wip snips and only had the last few chapters of star splitter to post, so i bailed. i finally have something new to preview!! have a bit of the gilmore girls fic, still in progress. 🥰

Just about 8 years ago, the bell over the doorframe jingled violently as Draco Malfoy threw the door open and swept in, already talking. “Bloody hell, that snow is abominable,” he was saying. He hefted a bundled, starfish-shaped form that would turn out to be a toddler by his hip, a pram scooting behind them and leaving a wet trail on Harry’s floor. With a flick of his wrist, the pram had folded up and nestled in the corner of the dining area, dripping there ignored, as Draco descended upon the counter much the same as he did almost every day.

“You, there—please tell me this place has something warm to—” And then Draco froze, because back then he had not done this every day; this was the first time, and more specifically the first time he had seen Harry Potter in the flesh since their eighth year of Hogwarts.

“Malfoy,” Harry had said, eyeing the puffy bundle warily. He didn’t know it was a toddler then; every bit of Scorpius was covered up and radiating Warming Charms. In hindsight, he was probably sweating, but Harry was to later learn that Scorpius had been a quite agreeable child until he learned to read—an apparent mistake that Draco despairs of having made a few times a week—and he made no complaints even dropped onto a stool as he was, propped up against his father.

“What are you doing here?” Draco, then Malfoy, had demanded. He looked utterly thrown and somehow offended, as if Harry’s existence in his own place of business was a grave insult to him.

“This is my place,” Harry said, and then as an instinctive response to Draco’s disbelieving scoff, he added, “I own it.” He’d hoped Draco would pick up on the implied threat—don’t be an arse or I’ll kick you out.

...

“This place is called Al’s,” Draco said accusingly. “You’re not Al.”

“Nope, I’m not. I’m Harry.” When Draco stared at him, Harry clarified, “Harry Potter.”

“I know you’re—who is Al, then?” Draco went pale beneath his winter flush. “Wait. Did you name this place after—Dumbledore?” He whispered the name as if ashamed, and Harry supposed that was about right, though it garnered him little sympathy.

Harry let that dread sit on Draco’s face for a few moments before he said, “No, it was already called Al’s when I bought it. Didn’t feel like changing the name.” He had changed everything else about it, though, spending one exhausting summer converting it from a pub no one really liked to go to anymore to a greasy spoon that people liked much more.

...

Harry had not opened this place and kept it open so he could be insulted and bullied; he was long past the time in his life when he would accept that, especially from the likes of Draco Malfoy. And so he opened his mouth once again to tell Draco to get out—ignoring all the questions he had for him, like what he was doing in this town, out in the snowstorm, carrying some sort of doll, maybe?

Before he could say so, and even before Draco could interrupt, the doll made a noise that made Harry startle and drop the rag he’d been wiping down the counter with. The doll made another noise, reached out, and grabbed the rag.

“Mine!” the doll said, lifting its head until a nose poked out of its bundling. That was when Harry realized that what Draco had set down on the stool was a toddler.

“Not yours,” Draco said as Harry tried to process this. “Let it go, Scorpius, it’s disgusting!”

“Oh,” said Scorpius, in a very wobbly sort of voice. His head tipped up so much that Harry could now see wide eyes, which were a complex hazel shade that made him really start to wonder what Draco was doing with a toddler. Said eyes were glistening slightly, and to accompany the look, Scorpius said, “Okay,” in the saddest little voice Harry had ever heard. He dropped the rag back on the counter; he could barely move his arm in his heavy, puffy coat.

“He can have it,” Harry said quickly; he grabbed up the rag and tried to hand it back, unable to deal with that stricken face.

#drarry #drarry fic #drarry wip #wip snip #oflights #gilmore girls au #tbh it's not a proper AU it's just borrowing the gilmore girls setup #each chapter (there are four) will cover a season in a year + flashbacks to past seasons and i am done with winter 🎉

[tackytigerfic]

for the word excerpt ask game: sweat

Truly i am nervous to even mention this let alone post it, let alone to you of all people, the one whose fics grabbed me by the throat and brought me into the F1 fandom. I haven't even put this in my Maxiel doc (which is still empty while I consider it in mild terror). But I have been jotting down ideas for a Maxiel fic in my private discord I keep for note-taking so I will share a little bit as it happens to feature this exact word. This is an AU where Daniel owns an organic farm shop and Max is a finance bro and they become friends when they join the same amateur footie team. In this scene, they're on a stag night, sharing a hotel room, and they've just been karting while dressed as characters from Mario Kart. Max is dressed as Peach and let's imagine it's one of the slutty costumes (affectionate) rather than canonically accurate.

“It is very lovely, perhaps, but not very comfortable,” Max says, sounding completely serious, but he’s watching for Daniel’s smile so closely that Daniel knows he must be joking. He turns his back to Daniel, reaching up with one of his big hands, the unbruised one, so he can pull at the puffy neckline of the dress. When he eases it down off one shoulder, Daniel can see the imprint of the elastic in his skin, a pattern scored all the way down lower and lower, running in an orderly line until it disappears under the pink silky fabric. Max’s back muscles flex with the movement. He’s too big for the dress, really; it should be ridiculous. It is ridiculous. His skin is blotchy with heat, the pink bits nearly the same colour as the dress, and every part of him that Daniel can see is gleaming with sweat and specks of glitter.

“Unzip me?” Max says, and Daniel’s hands are moving before he can even think about it.

#maxiel #never had a fandom other than drarry before #this feels quite terrifying #wip snip #asked and answered #rowing and chatting

[basiatlu]

Lil Belated Wip Snip - ty for tagging me @squintclover ♡

The name of the game is to share a snippet, a smackeral, a tiny taste of something you're working on! I'm tagging @littlewinnow @mono-chromia @hihimissamericanbi @maxrowave @lqtraintracks only if you'd like~☆

#wip snip #wip snippet #tag game #art #drawing #artists on tumblr #harry potter #doodle #illustration #wip #art wip #harry james potter #as i live and breathe #drarry #boshdraws

[the-starryknight]

wip snip

fiddling with a bit of dronarry! thank you @skeptiquewrites, @wolfpants & @tackytigerfic for your tags, reminding me that i'm live and well and desperately trying to find my way back into making words! mildly nsfw!

Harry woke with his body wrapped around someone else’s, too hot under heavy blankets. He pressed in closer, feeling the sleep-warm skin of the other person beside him where their thighs touched and their chests were pressed together. He breathed, feeling the ghost of his own breath back against him in the dark of the room.

This wasn’t right.

The person beside him made a soft noise in his sleep and Harry’s chest tightened. Harry's was already half-hard, turned on by the way their bodies were entangled and the steady presence of this heat beside him. He wasn’t sure who it was, but his own body seemed to know how to fit against this one, a lithe thigh tucked in between his own, a soft foot pressed against Harry’s calf like the divot there was meant for those toes.

The other man -- Harry could feel him hardening at his hip -- made another noise, this one more intentional. He was awake too. Without thinking, Harry leaned in closer and caught the man’s lips in a kiss. It felt right and bizarre, even as Harry blinked unseeing into the dark, but Harry’s body seemed to know exactly how to move with this one.

“Mm,” the man said, brushing their noses together. “You taste like sleep.”

The voice shook through Harry, waking him more than their bodies pressed beside each other ever could.

He blinked once. Twice. No. This was impossible.

I'm not sure who's already had a go, so please consider yourself tagged if you see this! otherwise will throw it to @sweet-s0rr0w, @decaflondonfog, @lqtraintracks, @magpiefngrl, @writcraft, @mallstars, @kittycargo & whomever wants to play along

#dronarry #harry #wip snip #starry writes

[writcraft]

WIP snip

Tagged by @the-starryknight thank you so much! This is a snippet from a short sequel to the Drarry part of my Little Compton Street series, when they finally get to New York and Harry has a business proposition for Draco <3

“I’m selling the flat in Bermondsey.”

Draco nods. It’s not a surprise. Now the renovations are complete at Godric's Hollow, Harry hardly uses the flat anymore. Still, Draco can’t quite imagine Harry leaving the hum of London behind. For all the happy months they have spent in Wiltshire and Godric's Hollow, London still calls to them. Draco knows he's not the only one that craves the restless beat of the city with her bright lights and hidden streets.

“The Mayor and Miners is for sale,” Harry continues. “Did you know it used to be called The Gryffindor Lion? It changed hands the summer after the Triwizard Tournament.”

“I didn’t know.” Draco watches Harry curiously. There’s something that tells him this isn’t a casual conversation. “How did you find that out?”

“I had a drink with McGonagall." Harry pushes a hand through his hair.

Draco presses his lips together, trying not to focus on the angle of Harry's wrist, the leather band that caresses his skin, the plain, silver rings and the flex and twist of his fingers. The audacity of it all. It is utterly appalling that Harry can still make Draco salivate with such an innocuous gesture.

"I thought McGonagall was more interested drag kings than wizards," Draco says, in an effort to keep his desire at bay, at least for the time being.

"We went for a whisky, not a date." Harry laughs under his breath. "We visited Dumbledore's memorial on the edge of Compton Common. I didn't even know it was there. You can't see it for the long grass."

Draco raises an eyebrow at Harry. It seems apt that Little Compton Street has memorial sites that flower with each new season, hidden to those who don't know where to look. “What were the two of you doing digging through weeds looking for graves?”

“It’s not a grave, it's a memorial.” Harry rolls his eyes and takes a swig of his beer. "You haven't answered my question."

"You haven't asked me one," Draco points out.

"Do you want to buy a pub with me?"

I'll tag @danpuff-ao3, @perverse-idyll, @mia-ugly, @lqtraintracks, @shiftylinguini and anyone else that cares to do this. Please tag me so I can see!

#drarry #little compton street #my wips #which will one day be completed i promise #wip snip

[maesterchill]

WIP Snip

Thanks to @tackytigerfic and @skeptiquewrites for tagging me! I Ioved reading your snips ❤️

This is from the fic wanted to write for this year's @dronarryfest but I'm so SO far away from ever possibly finishing it. Hopefully some day!! It's set in eighth year and Pansy has gone missing.

"Will you stay?" Draco asks.

Potter and Weasley look at each other.

"I don't want to be alone," Draco says, looking up at the ceiling so he doesn't have to say it to their faces.

Potter and Weasley share a nod, then start taking off their shoes. Draco thinks for a moment that there's been another misunderstanding, but the kicked-off shoes are as far as Potter undresses before he climbs into bed next to Draco. Weasley shrugs and takes off his hoodie before getting in on the other side.

"Thank you," Draco whispers, though it feels thin and meagre, insufficient to convey what he feels.

Potter laces his fingers into Draco's where they rest on his stomach. "You'd do the same for us."

Draco isn't quite sure about that, that Potter or Weasley would ever need anything like this from him, but this feels so nice, so soothing and calming, that he thinks maybe Potter’s right; Weasley lost a brother and Potter so many more, and just because they have each other doesn't mean that's it, doesn't mean that's all they'll they need to be okay.

This could be so awkward, but somehow it feels natural when Potter puts his arms around Draco, holding him. Weasley cuddles in close to the two of them, giving Draco his arm to rest his head on. Draco firms his grip on both of them and pulls them a little closer.

And somehow, somehow, despite his grief, Draco falls asleep between them. It is not dreamless or easy, but when he rouses—startling out of sleep with some nightmare—miraculously, they are still there, sleeping soundly beside him like children.

He wakes in the morning to the sound of the two of them sitting up against the headboard and talking softly, not about him but about everyday things, the plans for Hogwarts.

Draco still feels exhausted, but he feels his magic replenished again. He puts a hand on his chest, letting his magic flow into him in a restoration spell, taking the edge off of his weariness. The incantation attracts Weasley and Potter's attention, and both of them turn to him. He feels for a moment a sense of expectation, but it passes when he realises that neither of them are asking him anything, nor waiting for some proclamation.

"I'm starving," Draco says, because it seems like the easiest thing to fix, and because he doesn't know how to thank them.

"You're not the only one," Potter grouses, and the way he says it makes Draco wonder if he missed an argument.

"Eggs and bacon all round, then," Weasley says purposefully. He slips out of bed, and Potter goes with him.

"We'll see you downstairs?" Potter asks.

"In a minute," Draco says. This seems to be satisfactory, and Potter gives him a quick kiss on the forehead before taking Weasley's hand and leaving the room.

When they're gone, Draco rises, stretching out before he takes off his pyjamas, feeling lighter, like it's a little easier to breathe.

He leaves his room, and he doesn't look back to see if Pansy is coming too.

Who else would like to share a snip? How about @sweet-s0rr0w @apricitydays-lazynights @thecouchsofa @lqtraintracks @lettersbyelise @sassy-cissa @wolfpants @citrusses @starquestingfordrarry @xanthippe74 don't forget to tag nosy little me if you do!

#wip snip #dronarry #draco x harry x ron

[goblinmatriarch]

Thanks for the tag @myrtlefics ! This WIP snip is from a vampire AU (or, like, not AU exactly just....vampires) for the FrottCott AU challenge.

“How could you not know?” Draco was practically shouting now. “It’s a matter of public record! There are lists of all humanoid creatures, and literally anyone can access them, including landlords and potential employers, but especially hexing Aurors, Potter!”

Potter shrugged, eyes on the ground. “It felt like cheating,” he muttered obstinately. “Looking you up.”

Draco gaped. “Sweet Circe’s pig trough, are you serious? Besides!” He gestured up and down his body. “It’s pretty fucking obvious!”

At this, Potter looked up. He took his time following the path Draco’s hand had taken. Draco resisted the urge to squirm under his consideration.

“Is it?” Potter asked finally.

Draco couldn’t answer for a few moments. “Yes!” He finally burst out. “On account of how I’m incredibly alluring and absolutely perfectly groomed at all times? Not to mention my fangs, or the chill of my skin, or any number of other tells?”

“Well,” Potter pointed out, “it’s not as though I’ve touched you, or stared at your teeth. And the rest of the stuff—” He cut himself off, flushing a violent and unbecoming purple. “I mean, er, how was I to know that was vampire stuff?”

“Oh, what, you just suddenly thought I was fit and that didn’t seem strange to you?” Draco demanded sarcastically.

Potter toed shiftily at the floor. “Yeees?”

No-pressure tagging @elskanellis @mono-chromia @thehoneybeet @skeptiquewrites @peachpety

#drarry #fanfic #drarry fic #vampire draco #wip snip

[oflights]

wip snip 4.2

thank you for the tag, @elskanellis! your snip is so intriguing 👀

in return, have some more of time travel fic: extremely gooey and tender and basically what the next 10k or so words are going to be (the fic is currently 20k lmao) before things get Bad again. still heartbreaking in its tenderness, though, because baby harry is heartbreaking (a contextual reminder that he is 7 in this snip!!! adult harry is henceforth "potter" from draco's pov).

“This is for me?” Harry asks, doing another turn, clutching at the still unnamed dragon in his hands. “All of this, the bed and—I can—”

“Harry,” Draco says softly, coming closer and dropping to crouch again, ignoring his protesting thighs starting to truly feel all the activity of the day. “Yes, all of this. You can sleep in the bed, you can name your toy—it’s all yours. This is what looking after you means; everything that I can offer is yours now. I promise.”

“Do I have to—” Harry starts, and Draco simply doesn’t want to hear where that’s going.

“No. You don’t have to do a single thing. It’s just yours. Because—because you’re a guest, and a kid, and kids deserve these sorts of things no matter what.”

“Oh,” Harry says, sounding genuinely startled in a way that makes Draco want to punch—someone. Perhaps Vernon or Petunia Dursley, or perhaps Albus Dumbledore. He did not ever imagine he would one day find new and more infuriating reasons to resent Dumbledore this long after his death, but he supposes life is surprising that way.

Harry breaks up his surprised, revelatory stance with another yawn, and this time Draco makes sure his tone brooks no argument when he directs him to the bathroom with the pajamas. To keep busy and shove down the punching urge, he resizes another set of clothes from the wardrobe for the morning, startling himself when he leans too far in and his hand disappears through the back wall.

“Oh, right, I should warn you,” Draco says when Harry returns, changed and padding gingerly towards the bed. “The wardrobe is a portal to the treehouse, so be careful if you go too far into it.”

“You have a treehouse?” Harry asks with a gasp, and Draco smiles at him, striding over and pulling the quilt back for Harry to settle in.

“You have a treehouse. I’ll show you tomorrow, if you’d like.”

He waits as Harry clambers onto the bed and settles against the mound of pillows, smoothing the quilt over him and then making sure the dragon is tucked in, too. “Any ideas on a name?” Draco asks softly, tweaking the dragon’s snout. “Do you want to sleep on it?”

“Can I name him after a—a con—a constellation? Like you?” Harry asks, frowning in concentration.

“Yes, of course you can. Which do you fancy?” Draco sits on the bed near Harry’s feet and leans back on his hands, gazing up at the ceiling as it cycles over them. “There’s Cygnus, the swan I was telling you about—he was my grandfather, you know, and right by Draco, so that’s convenient. There’s Pegasus, too, a type of flying horse, and Cepheus, he was a king in Ancient Greece—well, he chained his daughter up to a rock, so maybe not the best role model, but a cool name nonetheless. Just stop me if anything grabs you, really.”

“What’s that one?” Harry asks, squinting up and pointing; Draco makes a mental note to solve the glasses issue as soon as possible. He looks where Harry’s pointing, southwest of the quadrant he’d been explaining, and spots the most recognizable constellation there is.

“Ah, that’s Orion. The hunter. He was a Giant, you know, and he got pretty boastful, so Gaia—super powerful Earth mum, you did not want to get on her bad side—sent a great big scorpion after him. They fought, so you’ll never see Orion and Scorpius—that constellation all the way over there—in the sky at the same time. But Ophiuchus—he was a Healer, that one over there, see how he’s sort of between Orion and Scorpius? He gave Orion some medicine and saved him from Scorpius.”

Harry’s eyes are drooping closed, but he still murmurs, “Really? Is that all true?”

“Well, sort of. They’re stories, myths; all the stars have stories. There are different versions and they change depending on who you talk to, but I have my favorite versions because they’re the ones my mum told me.”

Draco checks in to see that Harry’s eyes are almost completely closed, and keeps talking hoping they’ll close further; how many times had his mother talked him to sleep?

“If you’re in the sky, it means you’re pretty important, right? So that means lots of stories. I’ll tell you all of them, if you’d like. I think you’ll enjoy this room, and you’ll be happy here. I hope so.”

That’s all verging on a ramble, but he thinks it doesn’t matter because Harry is asleep. So Draco gets up gently, patting Harry’s foot over the quilt, shoots the still unnamed dragon a grin, and starts to leave the room.

He stops only when he hears Harry mumble, “Orion. That’s his name,” and curl around the dragon, breathing going smooth and even, arms clutching it tight against his small frame.

Draco smiles at them both. “Goodnight, Harry and Orion.”

tagging @teledild0nix @phoebe-delia and @thehoneybeet, fully randomly chosen so absolutely no pressure!!

#wip snip #drarry #drarry wip #drarry fic #time travel fic #so the working title of this (subject to change ofc though i like to have titles set early) is the star splitter #which is about a guy who burns his pastoral farmer life down to get a telescope to figure out his 'place among the infinities' #it's probably my second favorite frost poem tbh #draco burning his life down to rethread the universe for young harry seems very appropriate to me #anyway #i'm going to have to pause this fic somewhat soon to work on a fest fic #trying to get as much done as i possibly can because i love it so much already !!!

[tackytigerfic]

im soo hyped for that wartime fic :O do you have any entire how long in terms of chapters it will be?

Hello Anon, thank you so much for being excited about this. It really is such a kind thing to tell me, esp after I've been writing this fic for so long and having absolutely zero perspective on it anymore.

I am hoping to post it in chapters, as I have never had a fic long enough to do that with before! And it might be my only chance. It's currently nearly 220k with a bit more to write (but not much more!) though I am going to try to cut it back as close to about 150k as I can get it. And then I'm going to try to divide it into about 15 chapters or so, and post a chapter every 2 days for a month. They will be big chunky boys, those chapters! I know a lot of people don't read WIPs and I don't mind if people don't follow along, but I have read along with a handful of WIPs myself and it was such fun that I thought I'd like to try it from the other side. I do also have a smut epilogue planned which I might have to post a bit later, depending on how quickly I get through the editing process.

Here's a little snip from the fic too, just while I'm here, and since it's still WIP Snip Sunday! In this scene, Harry and Draco are no longer friends, after Draco ran off to France. They have just been humiliated to learn (through drinking a charmed drink) that they share the same happiest memory, and it involves a day out they had in London together many years before.

"It’s obviously some sort of error in the charm, like you said.”

“Exactly.” Draco had the steel of conviction in his voice. “But even if it wasn’t… if that really was your happiest memory, I mean. Well, you know I’m not judging you.”

“Well, you’re not exactly in any position to judge me, are you?” Harry said nastily, hating himself a bit for it. “After all, it was your happiest memory too.”

They were quiet then, Harry weighing up Draco’s silence, judging it for what he knew it was; a confession.

“Well,” Draco said, and cleared his throat. “It really was excellent ice-cream.”

“Hermione says we all have some sort of trauma reaction from being at war for so long, and she thinks I’m latching onto anything that isn’t completely terrible in my past.”

“Oh, cheers,” Draco broke in. “Though I suppose not-completely-terrible is a fair assessment.”

Harry wanted to tell him that there was a time when he was pretty much the exact opposite of terrible—the counterpoint to all the shitty things Harry had to worry about, the thing that undercut all the misery and drudgery of the war Harry was locked into. But Harry couldn’t remember feeling the purity of those feelings anymore, not since they’d been all muddied up by Draco leaving, the awful gasping pain of the surprise abandonment, the sick relentless ache of the realisation that Draco really wasn’t coming back.

“I miss London,” he said instead. “Sometimes I even miss Grimmauld Place.”

“That’s another thing he’s ruined,” Draco said, shoving his sweating plastic bags of takeaway onto the small table. “London always felt so safe. It was so big, so anonymous. I could be anyone I wanted there. And now he’s everywhere, like a virus. How often do you get back there?”

“Hardly ever,” Harry said. “When I went to meet you, that was the first time in months. The Council thinks it’s too much of a risk, me going into his territory. His warding system isn’t as sophisticated as ours yet, of course, but he’s working with a lot of innate power there, and it’s concentrated stuff. If I fall into his hands, it would be all over for us.”

“Lots of magic per square foot in London,” Draco agreed. “I do worry about that. If he gets back to his full strength at any point, with all that magical energy behind him…”

“I know,” Harry said. “It’s one of the things that keeps me up at night, to be honest.”

“There are probably quite a few of those,” Draco said, lip curling not unkindly. “Do you— I mean, I always order too much…” He waved his hand at the bags of takeaway. Harry could see a curling bag of brown paper with the corner of a herb-dappled naan poking out, and he felt ravenous again, all of a sudden.

“Yeah, I could eat,” he said. “If you’re sure.”

#tacky's fth #wip snip #drarry #drarry fic #six sentence sunday #six paragraph sunday more like #asked and answered #rowing and chatting #thank you anon most sincerely #i hope you like it when it does post

[skeptiquewrites]

WIP Snip

thank you for the tag @tackytigerfic and @wolfpants! this is a little ditty that i'm finally finishing ft disaster politician harry potter, and an overworked draco moonlighting as his press secretary.

“Well, what if he thinks you're holding a grudge, or you don't trust him? Not to bring up the war or anything, but you testified for him and never spoke to him again.” 

“That can't possibly be it.” 

“Imagine this. While you were in your hermitage—” 

“Godric’s Hollow is hardly a hermitage—”

“Being broody and tormented and glaring at the paparazzi—”

“Post traumatic stress is much less sexy than you're making it seem—”

“Selling knick knacks to villagers—” Penelope knew it was Quidditch supplies and was just trying to rile him at this point.

“I wish your constituents could hear you, Pen. You have lost it.” She grinned.

“Draco, similarly brooding and tormented, was here with Percy and the rest rebuilding this place brick by brick. And now he's working for you. Bit of an upset, no?” Penelope finished with a flourish. As if on cue, the voting bells started ringing. 

tagging @the-starryknight @nv-md @maesterchill @mintawasalreadytaken @saintgarbanzo @elskanellis but only if you'd like

#drarry wip #wip snip #crossed wires #coming soon!

[beebox-illustrations]

@lilbeanz thanks for tagging me in Wip Snip!

… something i’ve never finished ?

#harry potter #beebox-illustrations #digital art #sketch #wip snip #severus snape #albus dumbledore #maybe I’ve never continued because i dont know how to draw someone knitting #maybe because i don’t know what Severus is being mad about this time #i dont know #enjoy? #illustration

[maesterchill]

WIP Snip

Ha. I got tagged again, thank you @elskanellis @wolfpants @mallstars for the tags! This is Another snip from my Dronarry (8th year) - it's a bit earlier in the story than the last one I shared.

The only person Draco tells about the scar is Pansy. Pansy is delighted, of course, the cow, casting a Lumos under the bedsheets, and then smoothing her fingers over the zig and zag of it, her eyes dramatically wide. 

“What’ve Mungo’s said about it?” 

Draco laughs right in her face. As if, after the shame and carnage and awfulness, he would honestly present himself to a Healer and say ‘Yes, hello, how do you do? I have a lightning scar on my stomach. You know, just like that chap has, the one who just saved the world from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. That sort of scar.’ 

No, Draco won’t be doing that.

“Pomfrey, then? She might know.”

“No, Pans. Just drop it. It’s just a coincidence.” Draco buttons his pyjama top back up.

“But you said the Dark Lord used an Avada on you. That's— there's no way you’d survive that.”

“Maybe I misremembered,” Draco says tiredly, flopping his head back onto the pillow. He knows he didn’t though; the cold enunciation of the words had been crystal clear, the jet of light that hit him unmistakable in its sickly greenness. "Could have been some other spell."

“Unless.” Pansy rolls closer to him, smirking. “Unless it means that you’re the next Chosen One.”

“Har bloody har,” he replies. “Who’d choose me? And for what?”

“I would, Draco. You know I would. I could put you to very good use.” She slides even closer, her tits pressing against his arm, all soft and fleshy under her nightie.

Draco groans. “Go to sleep, you horny old hag.”

She laughs. “I’ll never turn you, will I? Such a shame, the most beautiful boy at Hogwarts.” She strokes his hair and he closes his eyes. He’s so grateful for her. For Greg too, and the others. 

He feels the delicious pull of sleep, tugging at him softly. Perhaps tonight he’ll be spared the nightmares.

It’s been helping having Pansy next to him. Holding him. They comfort each other. Pansy’s suffered from anxiety ever since Draco’s known her, but it got ten times worse following the war. This seems to be the only way they can get a proper night’s sleep. Millie and Greg have been sharing a bed too, both grieving. 

“You’ll need to tell Potter,” she whispers. “He ought to know.”

“Wrong on both counts,” Draco mumbles back.  He throws an arm around her waist and pulls her closer. She rests her head on his shoulder. Her hair smells of tea tree. “Now shut off that meddling brain and close your eyes.”

I'd love to hear a snippet from @starquestingfordrarry @rainstormradish @drarrymyheart @greattemptation @sillywives @hoko-onchi-writes @apricitydays-lazynights @annanother-thing @myrtlefics @geesenoises @basicallyahedgehog @pl0tty @stationintern if you'd like to share, that is 🥰

#wip snip #drarry #dronarry #maesterchill writes

[oknowkiss]

wip snip sunday

wow wow wow for the first time in... a year i think? i have something i can post a wip snip for! thank you for the tags @wolfpants @lettersbyelise @sweet-s0rr0w !! this snip is from my @dronarryfest fic, which is a seinfeld au loosely based on the episode "the contest." below is an unedited snip from the opening scene.

“I’m cursed, Harry,” Ron moans, face buried in the broad expanse of his hands. “I’m going to be alone forever.”

“I dunno about all that,” Harry says, at the same time as Hermione tears a croissant in half and says, “Sounds right to me.”

Harry kicks her under the rickety coffee shop table. She widens her eyes at him and says, “What?” as she shoves a large bite of flaky pastry into her mouth.”Ith true.” 

“You don’t understand us, Hermione. Men in love are a complex breed,” Harry says loyally, patting Ron on the back. He’s bent so low over his coffee that the ends of his golden-red hair are curling in the steam from his latte. 

Hermione chokes. 

She bangs her chest with her fist, eyes watering. Harry debates helping her, and decides she doesn’t need it. She’ll be fine in a moment. Probably. 

The croissant goes down and Hermione gasps, her incredulity rough and ready at the tip of her tongue. “I don’t understand you?” she says. “You two. The two of you, right here. You and–and him?” She gestures at Ron with the ragged half of croissant still in her hand. 

“Here we go,” Harry says, rolling his eyes as he takes an unamused sip of mocha, still so hot it burns his tongue.

“First of all,” Hermione starts. “He–” she points at Ron. “--wasn’t in love. He wasn’t in love with Lavender this time and he wasn’t in love with her the first go around. He can’t have been in love, because he has sausage roll for a heart and soup where his brain should be.”

“Is there soup?” Ron asks weakly, eyes hopeful.

i'm a little behind on my tags and mentions so i presume everyone i'm tagging has done this already. consider this an opportunity to share more! @mintawasalreadytaken @vukovich @fluxweeed @citrusses @sorrybutblog @tackytigerfic @oflights @mallstars @saintgarbanzo @dodgerkedavra and open tag for anyone else who'd like to share! 

#my wips #my fic #wip snip #harry potter #ron weasley #hermione granger