#samyiswritingdrarry

[samyistrying]

The Phoenix

“I can’t do this anymore.”

His words are grey and withered, lingering heavy and suffocating in the room. All ash where fire once burned. A fire that faded in the face of time. 

It all faded.

You nod, swallowing thickly, tasting iron finality.

“They’re my family,” he says, and you understand.

You are his ashes. She is your fire.

Written for @drarrymicrofic ‘s prompt “dust/ash”.

Thank you, @curlyy-hair-dont-care for your lovely beta help! <3

[samyistrying]

Six Sentence Friday

Thank you for tagging me @lucienneart and @zoupia. I literally have nothing but Spoilers. This is part of a later chapter in In Memory, Eternally. ( @crazybutgood did the beta reading! Check her out!) Let’s pretend it’s a WIP, shall we? And let’s pretend this is six sentence long LMAO XD Tagging @pauleonotis (no pressure !) and everyone who wants to do it!

Harry,

All my life, my fate belonged to the cage. Constraints were what dictated my treads and what kept me from breaking free.

You opened the gates and brought down the bars. My cage is no more and I savour the wings of freedom.

Which constraints hold Your mind captive?

I wander the shores of unknown seas and marvel if You recognise that You can touch the horizon if only You will.

Wherefore do we have wings if we do not fly?

Eternally Yours

[samyistrying]

Drarry Kinktober ~ Kink: Lingerie (Rating: E)

There was nothing missing in Harry's life, or at least he thought so.

Sure, he was approaching his thirties, which some would call "almost-old" but he was happier than ever before in his life. He had everything he had never even dared to dream of: A small cosy house, a husband who loved him more than anything, friends who would die for him but didn't really have to because the world was different now, and peace that had finally come into his life.

As peaceful a life with Draco Malfoy as his husband could be.

It had been a typical Monday at the Ministry. Harry had spent his day poking his nose into paperwork that didn't interest him in the slightest, had been lectured by Hermione about his continued refusal to train the trainees of the Aurors Recruitment Programme (he just knew, that the newbies would only gawk at him) and then, for some inexplicable reason (he had fallen asleep at his desk over the particularly boring Bastedo file), he had unintentionally worked overtime, which made him arrive at his sweet home a full two hours late.

Exhausted and out of mood, Harry only longed for a bubble bath, a warm meal and one of those massages that only Draco's divine Healer hands were able to give. When he heard cackling laughter from the bedroom, he sensed that real life was about to thwart his plans. Alongside Draco's laughter, which he had recognised among hundreds, there was also Pansy's.

Draco spent most Mondays meeting his best friend. Quite as if Draco wasn't a Healer but a hairdresser who used Mondays for pointless leisure activities. They usually went to a café or sauntered through the streets of London, only rarely did they not go out. Harry didn't mind, although it might have bothered him a little at that moment, because, as much as he liked to show hospitality, all he wanted on that Monday was his peace and quiet.

Nevertheless, because he was a man of manners, he knocked gently on the bedroom door until he realised that he was in his own home and that knocking was at best ridiculous and pushed the door handle down without waiting for an invitation. The image that presented itself to him made him forget all the stress of everyday life and washed away his tiredness and moodiness in seconds.

Inside the spacious room, more precisely in front of the gigantic chestnut-wood wardrobe, Draco turned in front of a head-high mirror, with nothing but a black, snug-fitting turtleneck jumper and an equally black, clearly too short pleated skirt on his body. Harry's jaw dropped, it took him five more seconds before he even noticed Pansy, who had made herself comfortable on one of the cream-coloured armchairs, giggling and encouraging Draco to spin again for her.

Some sort of synapse blew in Harry's brain. He couldn't even explain why, but the mere sight of Draco in a skirt that covered his bottom lightly and flowingly, ending just below it, turned his knees into jelly. So it was no surprise that it took Harry a further twenty seconds to get his jaw under control and only managed to clear his throat with all his might.

"Oh Harry, get over here! You must help me to rate Draco's outfits," Pansy exclaimed joyfully, as soon as she noticed him and tapped on the armrests of the chair next to her.

Harry didn't move, continued to stare at Draco, who had turned his body towards him but was still looking at himself in the mirror. "Should I ask or –"

"Pansy thinks she can convince me of Muggle clothing," Draco explained, turning his head towards Harry and giving him a dazzling smile. "And she thinks I don't notice her slipping me women's clothing."

Pansy protested, Harry might have laughed if he hadn't lost control of his body and Draco took a few steps towards his husband to press a kiss on his cheek. "Welcome home, love. Your dinner is in the oven and I'll run your bath in a minute, all right?"

Harry nodded slightly, Draco apparently knew his Mondays too well. Then he glanced down on Draco, whispered a "suits you" in his ear and in the following night he fucked him into Nirvana like he hadn't in a long time.

That could have been it, an adventurous night and everything could have gone back to normal. But it didn't. The image of Draco in a skimpy miniskirt wouldn’t leave Harry's memory, haunting him like a sugar-sweet ghost and awakened an insatiable thirst for something he couldn't exactly specify.

Draco had looked hot, but not only that. Also elegant, graceful, ravishingly beautiful and feminine. Harry couldn't help but feel drawn to this femininity, to such an extent that it disturbed him at first. When he first dreamt of Draco in scanty lingerie in the night from Monday to Tuesday and woke up with a rock-hard morning erection, he spent the whole of the following day wondering what kind of malfunction his brain had suffered that a skirt could cause such a reaction in him.

But the images didn't disappear even when he was awake, they just became more detailed, more revealing, and more bloody stimulating. So every passing second Harry became more and more comfortable with the idea that Draco in lingerie was a hellishly erotic fantasy and dreamily revelled in his sparked imagination. Until, at dinner on Friday of the same week, he realised that he had a mouth, a voice and a wonderful husband. In fact, he only noticed it because they were eating spareribs and the oil made Draco's lips glisten rosy and look truly delicious. Essentially, it didn't matter what made him open his mouth. The result remained a clumsy stumble over his tongue.

"Excuse me?" Draco asked, making a noticeable effort not to laugh, and grabbed another sparerib.

"Would you –" Harry tried again, breathlessly. "Would you wear knickers for me?"

Keep reading on AO3 (English) or AO3 (Deutsch)

[samyistrying]

Drarry Kinktober ~ Kink: First Time (Rating: E)

[...]

Harry was breathless, staring wide-eyed at long, pale fingers with carefully filed fingernails which worked their way down the button facing of his shirt in a steady rhythm, gradually revealing more naked skin. Harry peered up and into Draco's eyes, which were watching him closely. Draco licked his lips, smiled lightly and heated, and drew Harry closer again. Kissing was safe territory, so Harry instantly engaged in it.

Uncertain whether to push Draco against the cool sheet again or how to proceed at all, Harry stayed in place, his hands resting on Draco's sides left and right, his thumbs slowly circling and he concentrated solely on the wet tongue huddling against his own. Unimpressed by Harry's stiffness, Draco shifted closer on his knees to urge their bodies against each other, shoving a bent leg between Harry's, successfully stirring the blood in Harry's crotch once more.

Harry sighed softly into the kiss. That was his sign, wasn't it? Draco had made a move, now it was his turn again. Not that Harry had any idea of any kind of sequence, the realisation that they would probably have sex this night had only occurred to him a few hours earlier. And that was only because Seamus had made a teasing comment about how the two of them would celebrate their three-month anniversary. Then it had suddenly dawned on him, Draco had spent the previous days obsessively trying to convince their roommates to find another place to sleep for the night. The signs had been so obvious and yet Harry hadn't even considered it. Which was precisely why he felt endlessly overwhelmed at the moment.

Actually, this shouldn't overwhelm him. It wasn't as if they hadn't had sex before either, they just hadn't crossed certain limits yet. Harry hadn't felt that it bothered Draco. Frankly, Draco seemed more than satisfied with their current sexual activities. And Harry was satisfied too, even if he didn't mind going further. The fact that he had less than no idea how the whole thing was supposed to work didn't help his case at all. Well, he knew the basics. As far as foreplay was concerned, he was no longer completely inexperienced, but the act itself was still a mystery to him.

Some time ago, Hermione had pointed out to him that approximately everything coming from the porn industry, both magical and non-magical, was useless and unreliable. So was every conversation he had overheard by his friends and other blokes in the locker rooms. She had advised him to do exactly the opposite of what he had heard from those places, but she hadn't specified what was the right thing then. "Exactly the opposite" was, unfortunately, anything but helpful, if he was honest. He urgently needed to get an educational book on the subject. But it was evidently already too late for that because Draco was currently undoing his trouser button and Harry had to helplessly experience himself turning into a pillar of salt.

Draco, who seemed to finally realise that Harry was having an inner crisis, paused, withdrew just enough to look at Harry's face and raise an eyebrow questioningly. "Are you all right?"

Harry nearly laughed hysterically, his head shook without his permission, he wanted to smack himself and stopped the movement immediately. "I –" Shit, this was hard. Pointlessly so, because he genuinely trusted Draco. "I have no idea. I mean, really, I have no clue at all."

Draco looked at him unmoved, his eyebrow still raised. "Of what?"

"This." Harry uncertainly gestured between the two and immediately felt as if he was twelve years old and unable to articulate proper sentences. He cleared his throat with hot cheeks. "Sex. Well, this kind of sex."

Draco furrowed his brows and stayed like that for a few seconds. When his expression finally cleared, his mouth formed a silent "Oh". A pink shimmer settled on his cheeks. "You want... sex," he hesitantly stated. It sounded like a question.

Read the whole fic on AO3 (English) or AO3 (Deutsch)

[samyistrying]

The Greatest Happiness on Earth (is sitting between Potter’s legs)

Summary:

Summer, sun, horse-riding holidays! When Harry started his summer holidays, he would have never expected his world to turn upside down - and all because of a snooty blond.

Or:

Just another silly little story about two young men who fall in love in absolutely every possible universe. Even while they're on a horseback and not waving their wands at each other. In a guest role: Harry's obsession with blond hair.

~

I did a thing. Imagine Drarry. Happy. Fluffy. No Voldemort. Ah and Draco is trans. Of course he is, Joanne.

~

Taste the sugar (an excerpt):

Harry wasn’t a superficial person. If anything, he was reluctant to be superficial. The fact that not all people saw this, in the same way, was something Harry had had to learn in the most unpleasant way. Children, they had only been children. And yet, every comment had had its effect. But what could one expect from children? All it took was a pair of glasses on his nose to be teased. A pale scar on his golden-brown forehead only made it worse. Not that Harry was ashamed of it. No, it just confirmed him that superficialities were ridiculously fleeting.

So why the hell had Harry been staring at the back of a blond head for five minutes now and for the life of him couldn’t find the strength to take his eyes off it? Harry didn't think it was wrong to find another person beautiful or attractive. But his stare definitely had something perfidious. Actually, thinking about it, it wasn't the staring that was the problem, but the absolutely incomprehensible reason for his staring.

Draco Malfoy stood in front of the mirror in their shared bathroom and braided his hair.

Actually, it should be nothing special. Actually, it was nothing special, but Harry sat on the small sofa that was placed opposite the bathroom door under a large window in their room and watched Draco as if he was holding the eighth wonder of the world in his hands.

After all the participants had greeted their ponies sufficiently and devotedly, they had returned to the dining hall for dinner. Afterwards, some had gone to their rooms to unpack or whatever. However, most of them had met in a lounge not far from the dining hall and had played table football, cards or chess. So had Harry and Ron. The evening had been nice, the atmosphere relaxed.

Harry had hardly spoken to Draco that evening, it had been pure coincidence that they had retired to their room almost at the same time. Draco had claimed the "better" bed (there was nothing better about it, it just stood further away from the door. But Draco insisted that in the event of an attempted assassination, Harry should serve as a living shield and was therefore correctly positioned closer to the door) and then started to unpack. He had also changed into light blue silk trousers and a white sleeping shirt, which again looked as if Draco had bought it completely overpriced. Harry had followed his bedtime routine in the bathroom and had also unpacked his travel bag afterwards. And now he was sitting on the small lilac sofa, wondering what must be wrong with a human that he was so fascinated by hair.

Admittedly, Draco cherished his hair with a devotion that couldn't be entirely ordinary either. First, he had brushed it, with two different hairbrushes, then he had kneaded probably four different products into the tips, and now he was about to braid a loose French braid. Draco stood a little turned away from Harry and watched the process in the mirror. Harry didn’t even question what the point was if he couldn't see what his fingers were doing. Draco held a small hair tie between his teeth, which he took in his hand after finishing the braiding and tied around the end of the braid. Satisfied, Draco took another triumphant look in the mirror, then turned in Harry's direction to leave the bathroom and noticed Harry's staring immediately.

That would probably have been the right moment for Harry to turn away and at least pretend to actually be reading the magazine lying openly on his lap. Instead, he just kept staring at Draco as if he was the eighth wonder of the world.

Draco's hair was long, but not long enough to stay in such a loose braid. A few strands already came loose and fell into Draco's face. Harry felt a sudden urge, but he pushed far away in an instant. Enough was enough. Looking and touching were two very different things!

"May I help you with something, Potter?" Draco asked, leaning far too casually against the bathroom door frame. It almost seemed as if it wasn't news to him to be stared at with fascination.

"Uh, no," Harry replied eloquently as ever and actually averted his gaze. But only for a moment, then he looked back at Draco. "Is that your thing? Calling people by their last name?"

Draco raised an eyebrow as if Harry had said something rude. He was just curious, really. He'd noticed Draco wasn't on first-name terms with anyone on the farm, apart from the ponies. Do ponies even have last names?

"Possibly," Draco responded calmly. He pushed himself off the doorframe and walked over to his bed. "Is it your thing to stare at people without asking?"

Harry bit his lip to hide his emerging grin. He could hardly admit it had never happened to him before. Actually, it was just surprising that Draco didn't really seem to mind. "Would that make it better? If I asked first?"

Draco snorted, giving Harry a look that made any "seriously?" superfluous. Then he slipped under his blanket and made himself comfortable. The fact that Harry kept watching him was only playing into Draco’s hands, they both knew that. "I'd be much obliged if you didn't snore tonight. If you do, I won't guarantee anything. You were the one who pressed the pillow on your face." And with that, Draco turned in his bed, away from Harry. 

Two threats of murder in one day? It seemed Harry had gotten lucky with his roommate. But who was he to complain about a little risk? 

Read on AO3

[samyistrying]

3-Word-Prompt: Astronomy Tower, Tears & Dawn. Prompted by / Written for @pauleonotis

Drarry // Established Relationship // Hurt / Comfort // (kinda) Angst // Post-Hogwarts // General Audiences // AO3 // German Version 

The Balance 

“This is going to be fine. Of course! Nothing can go wrong, right?”

Harry didn’t feel like the emotional support he was supposed to be in this situation. Not surprisingly, he more than nervously pushed open the door to the platform of the Astronomy Tower and looked around worried. Everything was dark, only the moon and a few stars provided the necessary light. Perfect conditions for their project.

“No need to be so tense. The Healer wouldn't have recommended it if it was too risky,” Draco replied, a little bit of well-hidden restlessness in his voice. He looked around on the platform, no reaction to be seen.

Harry sighed. He wondered how he had let himself be convinced into this madness. But it was probably for the best.

“Is this place good? Or should I rather stand where I-?” Draco faltered.

Draco still showed no reaction, but Harry suspected that his own facial expression had become independent. He didn't like this place. Not since Dumbledore died. And that this experience brought them back here after years was even less pleasing to him.

“Yeah, maybe that's better. I think you were standing about here.” Harry gestured in the approximate direction; he didn’t really trust his memory.

“Harry, if this is too much for you, you don't have to stay.”

There it was. Harry had already heard enough of this sentence. But there was no question. Of course, he would support Draco, no matter how uncomfortable it was for him.

“Who's tense now? I'm staying.”

Draco just shrugged, of course. He only had a rough idea of what he was getting himself into. Harry was afraid Draco would soon lose his calm attitude.

“All right, come here! I have to cast the spell.”

Harry followed the call. He knew what would happen now, he had made the connection with Draco hundreds of times before. Even if only for a few seconds. Draco's Healer had insisted on preparing them sufficiently, so they had practiced restlessly until he’d been satisfied.

“Mr. Potter, you will be the bridge to reality. It's incredibly important that you don't lose yourself in memories.”  That's what the Healer had said and it had sounded easy to Harry. But now that he was actually where it all had happened… He had thought it would be easier.

Leaning his forehead against Draco's, their wands united in their hands, Harry closed his eyes and concentrated on freeing his mind while Draco quietly began to speak the incantation.

It wasn’t simply Legilimency that they would use here. The spell was more complex, allowing them to withdraw completely into their minds. Quite useful to search for a particular memory, but also very dangerous, because it is easy to get lost in the past.

That's why Harry was here. To bring Draco back.

Can you hear me?

Harry flinched a little, Draco's voice was unusual every time it sounded in his head and didn't come out of the blond wizard's mouth.

I'll take that as a yes.

Harry disengaged himself from their position and looked at Draco for a moment, who returned the look calmly. He didn't know what he was getting himself into here. Of course he was calm.

You're worried.

“No,” lied Harry. The connection would let Draco know he wasn't telling the truth, but he didn't care. He didn't want to make Draco nervous.

Harry…

“It's all right, okay? We've talked about this. I know how important this is to you!”

Draco sighed, then nodded. “It'll be fine.”

Harry closed his eyes, concentrated on Draco and his thoughts. That was just the jump-start, soon he had to break free and stay in reality.

Draco's memories flew past him, flashed up, faded. It was almost too fast, but Harry knew Draco was searching. This place, it was supposed to help him find it.

An impatient wheeze of Draco almost brought Harry back to reality prematurely.

You'll find it, stop worrying!

This time Draco snorted, but in his mind voice and Harry almost laughed. The former Slytherin was quickly brought to drive up the wall. Usually Harry enjoyed this a little too much.

I can't find it, I'll need yours.

Harry frowned. He knew that Draco was good at assessing his abilities, but the decision seemed a bit hasty to him.

Not yet.

Harry, I'm serious! I won't find it. I only need the first 3 seconds….

Harry rubbed his temples; Draco's memories flew past him faster and faster in front of his inner eye. Everything in him was reluctant to give Draco the memory he asked of him. He knew that Draco thought Harry was so coy because the memory hurt him and although that certainly added to his discomfort, it wasn't the whole truth. With the pictures would come the emotions and he didn't want Draco to see the full extent.

I can find it for you, you just have to- Can you slow this down?

Draco's mind voice growled annoyed, but the stream of memories actually slowed down. Harry almost sighed in relief as he began to search in rapid succession.

A white peacock on a green meadow, a broomstick between his legs, the autumn wind in his hair while he turned brown leaves red and yellow again with wandless magic. Draco's childhood memories. So many holes, so much blurred or erased. Harry understood why Draco took this risk.

The feeling of parchment in his ink-dyed fingers, the splashing in front of round windows, loud laughter that filled the Slytherin Common Room. Hogwarts. Harry was on the right track.

Why don't you just show me your memory? This would be so much faster.

Draco sounded almost bored.

Shh, I'm close!

Cold hands on his wrist pulling him to class, the tiredness that occupied his limbs while he was studying late at night, green eyes, dark hair…

Potter! That’s private!

Harry could feel the memory being wrested from him, he immediately slipped into another, a harmless one.

It's not private, it's me! I was literally there when you looked at me! And stop calling me that!

Snow - no, ice! So much ice and music, the rustling of dress robes, more music, not very good music.

You won't find it.

Draco was right, not here. Not in fourth year. Harry let the stream of memories float past him faster. He didn’t want to surrender yet, he felt that he was close. Too close to give up.

Harry…

Just a minute! I think I almost got it!

You’re wrong. You won't find it.

“Draco, can you shut up, I'm trying to concentrate!” Harry had said it out loud, hoping it would have more effect than his mind voice.

He kept looking.

Red eyes, snakeskin, stone walls, Hogwarts, an apple, a chirp, pain. So much pain and hate. Tears and blood, the smell of iron, the smell of death, water. More pain. Pain from one wound, from multiple wounds. Again the memory was wrested from him, but Harry went into the next one without comment. He was close. So close.

And there it was.

Wind cutting his skin, an old man with white hair in front of him, the trembling of his body. Words that didn’t reach him. Harry's heart skipped a beat.

There it is.

I can't see it.

You- What? Of course! This is your memory; I can see it right here in front of me!

I know there's something there, I just can't see what it is. It's… hidden.

This time Harry sighed both in his mind voice and in reality. That was bad. Very bad. The Healer had warned them that this could happen. Draco had repressed this memory, but they had never been able to pinpoint the exact time it had happened.

“When it has been too long, sometimes it’s not possible to reawaken the memory through external influences and the spell alone,”  the Healer had said. “There are other methods to access the memory, but it’s risky. Mr. Malfoy, it may be that you can only awaken a distorted version of your memory; that wouldn't bring your parents back.”

Harry had been furious when Draco had said that he still wanted to hear about the methods. Draco hadn't understood why Harry had gotten angry. Of course not. He didn't remember, how could he know?

Draco, please-

I have to do this, Harry. I can't help it!

Harry's heart grew heavy. His worst fears would come true. He didn't want Draco to go through that pain. There was a reason why he had repressed this memory, why his mind wanted to protect him from it! It was too much; it might throw off Draco's balance. It could tear him apart.

It's going to be hell.

I know.

No, Draco didn't know. He couldn't have known. He had forgotten.

You will not only awake this memory. You'll live through them all. In one fell swoop.

I know.

Harry exhaled noisily.

Draco, I- Are you sure?

Yes.

How can you be sure? You don't know what to expect. You can't even imagine how painful-

No, you don't understand. I forgot them! Forgot, Harry! My own parents!

“A fairly common side effect,”  the Healer had said. “When our mind represses a memory for our own protection, it sets off a chain reaction that makes us forget even the most important things or people.”

The chain reaction would have spared no one. Harry knew he was lucky Draco hadn't forgotten him. No, he had forgotten his parents instead.

At first, only fragments had been missing, but eventually Draco hadn't even seen them anymore. Even when Narzissa took Draco's hand, the gesture was tormented, as if she was not his mother, but a distant relative he met for the first time in his life.

It had taken months to find out which memory had triggered this chain reaction. And just as long to prepare this night, to reawaken the memory, to undo everything.

Your parents were no saints, Draco. Your mind was trying to protect you. Your father-

I know that.

No, Draco didn't know. He couldn't have known. He just thought he knew.

You wouldn't want to forget them either, would you? They're dead, you wouldn't even have to see them, but you wouldn't want to forget them. The memory of them, everyone assumes that it just hurts you, but you love it. There is pain, there is despair, but there is also love and happiness. Joy and hope. Everything is a balance, you said so yourself.

Harry was silent and Draco continued speaking softly.

You think the pain will throw off my balance, but it won't. The pain, the memory, everything I have forgotten, they are part of the balance. I need them. So, please-

And then Harry kissed Draco's cool fingers, pressed them to his lips, and when he let go, he nodded.

The risk is high. If you see my memory but it doesn’t activate your own, then you will only keep a distorted version. Your parents will remain strangers, your spirit remains veiled.

Harry, I kno-

And you will feel my emotions from the memory. You have to resist feeling them, do you understand? If you start to believe my emotions, then -

Then you will know that I hated you. Then you won't be able to forgive me. Then you'll never be able to believe again that I feel nothing but love for you. Then your memory will be distorted and you might forget that you love me. That I love you. Oh, Draco…

Trust me. I know I can do this .

Harry nodded gently, holding Draco's fingers in his tight grip and tried to calm his heart. He trusted Draco. Of course he did.

Entering his own stream of memories, Harry hesitated one last time.

Ready?

Yes.

Harry concentrated, saw the night, saw the Astronomy Tower, saw the pain, saw Draco, saw the old dying man, then released the memory for Draco and opened his eyes. His part was done, now it was on Draco to remember. 

And Draco did. He remembered everything, every detail and Harry stayed with him. Remained his bridge to reality.

He watched. Watched as the love of his life screamed, lashed out, cried for help, whimpered, suffered pain and sold his soul to the devil once again.

And he did nothing. Only holding the cool fingers, set free the tears that ran down his cheeks lonely and were carried away by the wind.

He waited. Waited for Draco's cries to die down, for their connection to fade, for Draco to return to reality and sink to his knees in Harry's arms.

And then, as dawn broke in the east, he held Draco. And he never let go of him.