#sapphic microfics

[terra-wisp]

Day 12: "Lips" || 215 Words || Fleurmione @sapphicmicrofics

“Well, what do you have to say for yourself?!” In an uncharacteristic snarl, Fleur Delacour outright demanded that the unnamed brunette say something in response to the rather colorful rant that was directed at her. 

A small part of Fleur realized that she might have overreacted just a little bit. But when trapped with hundreds of people constantly staring at her assets instead of her eyes, the explosion of pent up frustration was bound to happen sooner or later. 

It just happened to be the lone Gryffindor that had fixated on her lips that had been the final straw. 

When a few more moments had passed and the other witch hadn’t said anything, Fleur nearly started yelling again. Thankfully the brunette broke her imposed silence, though what she said next threw the part-Veela for a loop.

“I’m sorry, but could you speak slower?” She accompanied her words with a series of hand gestures, ones that Fleur couldn’t decipher but knew exactly what they were for. That, coupled with the nearly inflectionless tone, caused a ball of shame and embarrassment to curl up within the Beauxbatons’ Champion’s stomach. “I think your accent is making it harder for me to read your lips.” 

That was the day that Fleur Delacour learned that Hermione Granger was born deaf.

[lumosatnight]

A Consolation: A Narlily Microfic Series

I’m trying something new! This will be one continuous story with 32 parts updated daily throughout May. It will contain explicit content involving consensual underage sex. Other content warnings for infidelity, canon-typical wartime angst, and mentions of pregnancy. Thank you @nanneramma for infecting me with Narlily brainrot and for being my beta. Go check out her AMAZINGLY SPECTACULAR Narlily microfic series!

You can also follow along on AO3 if you would prefer.

🌸🌸🌸

@sapphicmicrofics day 1 ‘sunset’ @microficmay day 1 ‘yearn’

Sixth year. First day. Sunset.

Bangers and mash, steak and kidney pie. Treacle tart, custard creams, crêpes au chocolat.

Severus stuffs his face. Lucius picks at his food.

Narcissa ignores them all — there is only one thing that holds her attention today.

Red and gold.

Lily laughs across the hall.

🌸🌸🌸

Read on AO3 | Day 2 →

[starlitsilvereyes]

Hands To Myself

Written for @sapphicmicrofics’s prompt: Hands & @drarrymicrofic's prompt: Slide | Rating: E | Warnings/Tags: Femme Drarry, Dirty talk, Nipple licking, Masturbation, Vaginal Fingering, Squirting, Cunnilingus | Read on Ao3 

A/N: This is my first time writing femslash (I think?) So please let me know what you think! :)

A shaky breath leaves Draco, her stomach coiling with tension as Harry’s emerald eyes pierce daggers into her. Harry sits naked at the edge of their bed, beautifully so, her plump breasts in full view for Draco to admire.

“We don’t have to do it, if you don’t want to,” Harry says. The strain in her voice lets Draco know she wants this as much as her. Has wanted it for a long time. 

“I want to,” Draco replies. The hand that rests on her left thigh slides between her legs, close enough to the wet heat of her cunt but not touching. Not yet. “I want you to watch.” 

Harry licks her lips, raising a hand to push back a curl that’s fallen in front of her eyes, gaze never leaving Draco. 

Draco gasps as she circles her clit lightly with her ring finger. Her hand is cold against the heat of her pussy, eliciting a spark of pleasure that has her rocking her hips, desperate for more. But she wants to take this slow. Wants to prolong it as long as she can. 

She keeps teasing herself, adding another finger, sliding them from her clit and dipping them into her entrance, pulling out before the first knuckle. A string of soft sighs and whimpers fall from her lips, hips shifting with the movement of her fingers. 

“Tell me what to do,” Draco says quietly. She can feel the heat rushing to her cheeks, embarrassment threatening to bloom within her. Neither of them have done this before. “Tell me what you want.” 

Harry opens her mouth, then closes it again, looking deep in thought. “Tease yourself a bit longer. And– here, let me,” She shuffles forward, a warm hand reaching for Draco’s breast. A moan leaves Draco’s mouth as Harry rolls her nipple between her thumb and index finger. “Dip your fingers in, all the way through.” 

Draco follows, becoming wetter as Harry’s hot breath fans over her cheek. 

“Hold them there,” Harry instructs. “Don’t move.” She massages both of Draco’s breasts with her hands, thumbs running over Draco’s pink nipples as she does so. 

Draco wants to close her eyes from the overwhelming pleasure. But she doesn’t want to miss the sight of Harry pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, looking at Draco as though she wants to devour her whole. 

Harry leans down, latches her wet mouth on Draco’s right nipple. Draco howls, her hand involuntarily jerking inside of her. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Harry murmurs against her chest. “All for me.” She tortures Draco longer, not instructing her to do anything but keep her fingers inside of her pussy as Harry laps and bites and sucks at her nipples. 

“Harry,” Draco whines. Her legs are shaking by now, and her fingers are soaked with liquid want. 

“Thought I was the one in charge here?” Harry pulls off, arching a thick brow. 

Draco frowns, fighting the urge to kick her right then and there. “You’re a menace.” 

Harry laughs, sitting up straighter as to get a better view of Draco’s cunt. “Go on, love. Fuck your fingers inside of your pussy.” 

With shaking hands, Draco pulls her fingers out of her dripping cunt. She dips them in again, down to her last knuckles, then scissors them inside of her. Her hips rise from the bed, following the movements of her fingers as she fucks herself faster and harder. “Harry, hnghhhhh, fuck, fuck–” 

“That’s right,” Harry hums. “Fuck yourself like how you want to be fucked.” 

How the fuck is Harry so good at this? 

“Start rubbing your clit with your thumb,” Harry says, breathless. 

Draco does, whimpers when orgasm starts to roll at the pit of her stomach. Harry reaches for one of her legs, hikes it up against her hip, creating a new angle that leaves Draco moaning loudly. She’s so close, so fucking close. She wants to cry from the pleasure of it. 

“Come, Draco.” is all she needs to hear from Harry. Draco does, squirting all over her hand as she moaned Harry’s name through her orgasm. When she comes down from the high, she opens her eyes to see Harry peering down at her hungrily. Heat rushes through Draco’s cheeks, realising the mess she’s made of their bed.

Harry’s darkening eyes travel from Draco’s wet hands and stomach to her breasts, then to her face. “I want to taste you,” she says, sliding down the bed, her face between Draco’s legs as she licks her clean. 

[sliebman10]

Toast

(Minerva/Poppy, 164 words, @sapphicmicrofics)

“What is this?”Poppy asked tiredly as she flopped on the sofa in their quarters. Minerva immediately took her shoes and rubbed her feet as she felt the tension of the day melt from Poppy’s spine.

“It’s a toast,” Minerva said crisply. Really, did the woman have any other tone? Poppy thought fondly. 

“Oh? Am I forgetting a special occasion?” Poppy asked, calculating in her head. It wasn’t their anniversary, that much she knew for certain. It wasn’t a holiday or either their birthdays.

“Does there have to be a reason?” Minerva asked, raising an eyebrow as a mischievous expression crossed her features so quickly she almost missed it. 

“Well I suppose not,” Poppy reasoned as Minerva let go of her feet and passed her a flute of champagne. 

“I was in Hogsmeade earlier and Rosmerta had a case of this fairy made champagne. I thought you'd enjoy it.”

“Well, in that case,” Poppy said with a smile, clinking Minerva’s glass. “Here’s to us.”

[her-midas-touch]

prompt - golden (Mary/Lily, 616 words @sapphicmicrofics)

(mentions of war and blood)

There is nothing sweeter than seeing Lily Evans on a battlefield. She’s stunning already, with her sparkling eyes and red hair, and kind smiles which have the slightest air of mischief.

Still there is something sacred about that animalistic wildness in her eyes, the almost cruel snarl on her face, her blood speckled cheeks, hands coated in shades of crimson, yet she moves like a dancer, a figment of poetry, slashing down those in her way, mouth firm, eyes hardened, flashing like a goddess in rage.

She had cried the first time, returning to Mary by nightfall, no sound emanating as heartbreaking as her sobs.

‘I can’t do it Mary.’

‘You can.’

‘I don’t want to.’

‘Run away with me then.’ Mary cupped her face. ‘They won’t make you become anything you don’t want to be.’

Lily had pulled away from the contact, laughing bitterly. ‘There is nothing they could make me that I am not already. A monster. A killer.’

‘War makes criminals of the best of us.’

Lily looked down, refusing to meet her eyes, as if ashamed. ‘I am far from the best.’

‘You are no monster Lily.’

Just a girl. A girl with haunted eyes and hands that never should’ve known the cruel art of spilling blood.

‘Promise me.’ Lily pleaded. ‘That this won’t defile me in your eyes.’

‘You are the purest thing I’ve known, love. Nothing could defile you beyond redemption in my eyes.’

A tendril of crimson makes its way down her neck. Mary had the inexplicable urge to sink her teeth in that spot till she drew blood, the blood of gods, the golden streams of ichor that must flow in Lily’s veins. She was no less than holy, even then, coated in the tears of blood, and the ghosts war left behind to taunt the living.

*****

Sometimes there are nightmares. Ugly things. Lily wakes shaking, drenched in sweat and tears, scrubbing blood off her hands, blood that isn’t there.

Mary holds her till the voices are whispers.

‘They don’t leave.’ Lily tells her. ‘I suspect they never will.’

When the city sleeps, Mary rediscovers religion ; there is no prayer she wouldn’t utter for Lily Evans, each kiss a show of devotion, each gasp a plea, a prayer. More. they can always ask for more in their insatiable hunger.

And Mary can always place the exact moment Lily’s worries fade to a distance, tucked away for tomorrow. In the many kisses exchanged, she is not the monster she sees reflected in every mirror, in dull armor before landing the killing blow.

***** When the blades fall at last, there is celebration. People rejoice and marvel. They chant names in adoration. Lily’s is a ripple among the voices.

Lily does not smile. She does not hold her head up high. She stands straight ahead. There is satisfaction somewhere there, Mary can tell, from the cry of rage she is rumored to have bellowed in the heat of battle, pride, because she has fought for this, fought every bit as hard as she loves.

And there is nothing deadlier than a blade matched with the same intensity of the way Lily Evans loves.

When the festivities dim, Mary sees her, alone. Not a princess, not a trained warrior. Just Lily.

‘Mary,’ She says. It is filled with relief and regret and pride. Mary kisses her. She tastes like salt and iron.

‘I think I’m ready,’ She whispers, burying her head in the crook of Mary’s neck. ‘To run away.’

‘Then we’ll leave.’ Mary says simply. And they stand there like that, making up for weeks of tentative promises, kisses dangled in uncertainty.

But for now, they are gods.

[sapphicmicrofics]

Little announcement: HP sapphic microfics will be back for March and April!

If you have prompt or ship suggestions, feel absolutely free to leave them in our ask box. As always, any era, any (femslash) ship allowed!

[broomsticks]

@sapphicmicrofics apr 9 prompt

(madam puddifoot x madam rosmerta, G, 50 words)

Morning After

Portia Puddifoot awoke in an unfamiliar room.

She blinked, disoriented; the grimy windowpane did little to soften the glare that lit the wood-paneled walls, the battered table-and-chair set in a corner, and the bed she was in — naked — and not alone.

“G’morning!” chirped the lump of blankets beside her.

“Rosmerta?”

[nanneramma]

Microfic: Secrets

Narcissa/Lily for the @hpsaffics / @sapphicmicrofics daily microfics prompt: genuine 50 words

It’s midnight on October 30th when Narcissa knocks on the door in Godric’s Hollow. Panting. Wild-eyed. In time, she hopes, to—

Lily answers, baby on hip and eyes wide.

“Narcissa?”

“You’ve got to leave—tonight. He knows.”

A flash of lightning; the rain starts.

Lily reaches out. Narcissa is already gone.

[saintsofthestarfield]

Wolfstar Microfic: The Happy Ending

Lesbian Week of Visibility!! Lesbian Wolfstar!!

If you’d asked Remus at 13 if she liked girls, without hesitation she’d say yes. She liked them just fine. They were compassionate, witty, gorgeous beyond compare, and had a bit of a mean streak.

At 15 if you asked Remus if she liked girls, she’s again say yes, yet this time it was realized she really just liked one girl. One girl with the silkiest black hair and most perfect angled lips. The one with boney hips, a bit of curve in her spine, and a strange gait she couldn’t help but be fond of. The one who laid on her stomach and held her hand when they slept in the same bed. The one who everyone knew would be Remus’ bed mate on Marauders trips. The one who flopped down next to her and wove their legs together in a tangle of fishnets and bare skin. The one who’d poke the end of Remus’ nose and make her forget her biggest insecurity. The one who’d never wear her retainer and as a result let her teeth go crooked again. The one who’d make Remus feel so special then so alone because there wasn’t a chance a girl like her could like a girl like Remus— or even like a girl at all.

At 17 if you asked Remus if she liked girls, she’d say yes, then specify she loved her favorite girl: Sirius Orion Black. The brightest star in the sky and the brightest star in her eye. The one who kissed like she’d never kiss again. The one who’d brush Remus’ hair behind her ear and make her blush like she was 15 again. The one who’d ask to try Remus’ coffee then complain that it was too bitter. The one who’d steal Remus’ sweaters and tell her how good they smelled. The one who’d let Remus hold her when she cried and return the favor when need be. The one who’d hold Remus’ hand in public and cling to her arm. The one who’d jump at every opportunity to show off her “girlfriend, who’s super smart and funny.”

Remus got the happy ending early, and if she hadn’t, she’d have fought for it forever.

[pixiedustandpetrichor]

for the @sapphicmicrofics prompt “candy”

ship: marylily, pandalily

cw: blood, obsession

ao3

Mary loves Lily. It should be Mary waiting at Lily’s door on Valentine’s, but instead Pandora is there, on the creaking steps up to the porch, humming and holding a basket of candy and flowers.

It isn’t fair.

Mary isn’t sure how she planned it, what possessed her to premediate such a thing, but the knife is in her hand and she’s creeping across the grass, dodging the creaky first step, and stabbing Pandora in her perfect, thin back.

Pandora lurches forward, but the blood is already clotting and there’s a sinking feeling in Mary’s chest and Pandora reaches around and pulls out the knife, grinning a too sharp smile.

“You’re a vampire.” Mary gasps out, taking an instinctive step back.

“Yep.” Pandora shrugs gracefully. She leans in, wraps her hands around Mary’s throat, whispers in her ear. “I’ll let you go this time because Lily would miss you, but never again. Understand?”

Mary nods mutely. Pandora shoves her away and jerks her head to the side. Mary takes the hint and runs. In the distance she hears Lily’s door open, her soft surprise at the gift, not yet seeing the blood.

Next time, she’ll bring a stake. 

[terra-wisp]

Day 10: "In Between" || 462 Words || Fleurmione (Beauty and the Beast AU - But not in the way you think) @sapphicmicrofics

“Hermione! I do not know where all this dust comes from, but I do not appreciate all this extra work you give me!” 

Fleur’s voice echoed throughout the vast room that was the Master’s library. Normally, the monstrous prince and his initially unwilling guest were frequent visitors, but today it was just Fleur and Hermione.

A singular feather duster flipped onto the shelving dedicated to Herbal Remedies, almost as if an unseen hand held it as it cleaned yet another layer of unending dust. The wand worked diligently, with the grace of a dancer. All the while, Fleur’s voice continued to chat to her silent audience. 

Eventually, the tool of lacquered wood and feathers stopped, and in a surprisingly human motion two of its feathers separated from the rest to pantomime putting one’s hands on their hips. It was then that the face along the handle was properly seen and it did not look amused. 

“Well? What do you have to say for yourself?” The feather duster, now revealed to be the lone chatty speaker within the vast room, called out. 

There wasn’t a verbal answer. Fleur hadn’t expected one, though it would’ve been nice. Instead, she spotted various tomes push themselves so they stuck out within their brethren. 

“Years within Colors” By Saint Sinclaire

“Overtures of the Last Century” By Poppy Earkat

“Universal Remedies for an Ailing Heart” By Holga Von Lipst

“Linseed Oil and its Many Uses” As contributed by the Sosh Valley Winery

The feather duster bounced from title to title as they each popped out, but she paid no attention to the books themselves and their content — simply the first letter. By the time the final title had revealed itself, Fleur was as close to breathless as a cursed inanimate object could be. 

But she got the message.

Y-O-U-L-O-V-E-M-E-A-N-Y-W-A-Y

The once proud head maid of the former Prince’s staff let out a shuddering sigh. 

“I love you too, mon lionne.” She tentatively placed a single feather against the red oak of the shelf she rested on. It had been so many years since the curse had stolen their bodies away. And while Fleur had retained some autonomy, the steward of the library had not been so lucky.

Hermione was here, and Fleur knew that they were amongst the lucky ones to not be separated from their significant other but it had been so long since she had heard her lover’s posh London accent.

“I am selfish, but I miss hearing your voice.” 

The books shuddered as another phrase was spelled out.

O-N-E-D-A-Y

The books were quick to straighten themselves out, likely because of the voices of their Master and the woman that the castle had put their hopes in. 

Fleur only hoped that it wouldn’t be too late. [A/N: Walked in on some people talking about Fleur as a feather duster in Beauty and the Beast, and I had a "huh" moment. This goes to you dorks. Also, if you spot my attempts at being clever...] [A/N 2: This is NOT part 3 of my random 3 part micro fic trilogy. I got waylaid.]

[schmem14]

Genuine

@sapphicmicrofics

​Pairing: Pansy Parkinson/Lavender Brown Rating: G WC: 60

*****

“You’re doing it wrong,” Pansy scowls. “And you’re being mean!” But that’s who Pansy is—thorns and brambles in a derelict garden.  “Like this.” Pansy clasps a soft fist around Lavender’s, drawing the tip of her wand into a tighter loop.  “Thanks, Pansy.” “You’re welcome,” she whispers, because that’s who Pansy is—a bloom of petals waiting to burst free. 

[bluethepineapple]

Morning After

Pairing: Fleur Delacour/Hermione Granger Words: 443 A03 A sequel to To Feed the Dying Hearth @sapphicmicrofics

The morning after the Anniversary, Fleur makes the bread.

The oven is ablaze even before the sun peaks at the horizon. The heat fills up the kitchen, and she blinks the sweat out of her eyes as she sits in front of the oven. Her grand-mère's recipe requires that the bread be removed at the first crack of the dough, and so she summons a chair and waits and waits and waits. Her shirt sticks to her back, but the fire is a beautiful thing, crackling, licking the wood until it turns white. The shadow of the pan dances against the bricks. 

And still Fleur waits in the heat, basking like a cat in the sun as the bread slowly rises. Her body remembers the cold all too well.

Outside the window, the sky turns pink. A new set of footsteps echo in the hall, light, stuttering taps against the floorboards. A slow walk. Weak, dragging feet. Fleur's heart stutters, but she keeps herself still. The sound changes as she enters the kitchen and she walks on marble instead. 

Hermione. 

Still, Fleur's eyes do not waver from the bread. "Grand-mère used to light the oven with her fire," she says instead. It is her grand-mère's hair in her wand. She likes to think they make the same flames.

Behind her, the water runs. More footsteps, this time drawing closer to her. The bread has risen in full. Blindly, she reaches out, and the bony hand of her wife twines itself around her own. Blue veins pop against the wan skin, and idly Fleur wondered if they would bruise in the shape of her fingers if she were to press just a little harder. She keeps her touch light, kisses the hand instead and leaves the mark of her lips in bright red.

A damp towel is rested upon her forehead and another is placed against her back. Fleur can't help the smile tugging on her lips. A cooling charm would have been easier, but they were missing old homes today. 

A chair is dragged across the floor and settled beside hers. Hermione sits down heavily and breathes an exhausted sigh of relief. Against her better judgment, Fleur squeezes the hand in hers harder. It does not bruise, but the regret lingers.

When the bread cracks, Fleur shuts off the fire, and when she summons the bread, Hermione cools the pan. As one, they turn to each other for a kiss, and a single tear slides down Fleur's cheeks. 

The heat lingers in the kitchen, and the towels are damp against her skin. It is the morning after, and they were coming home today.

[mkaugust]

@sapphicmicrofics prompt: Champagne, Luna/Ginny, 50 words

“What creature makes the bubbles in champagne?” 

Luna laughed. “That’s not magic, it’s carbon dioxide.  Muggles have champagne.” 

“Muggles have magic, don’t they?” 

“Of a sort.” 

“And what’s in it that makes me feel this way?” Ginny asked, leaning close. 

“I don’t think that’s the drink.” Luna closed the gap.

[her-midas-touch]

(Ginny/Pansy, 387 words @sapphicmicrofics)

prompt- selfish

“You better not blab a word about this to those awful cronies of yours.’

Ginny says crossly, as she adjusts her tie, and hastily buttons up her shirt. How very typical of her to be concerned about her own pretty little reputation. And Pansy’s supposedly the selfish one. She lets her gaze languidly linger a bit on the other girl. Certainly not bad looking, Pansy will give her that. She just never expected she’d be in this situation. With a Weasley of all people.

Pansy waves a hand dismissively.

‘Wouldn’t worry too much if I were you. Seeing as how you’ve practically snogged every available idiot in your house at this point, I don’t think anyone will even believe me if I told them about this sudden elevation in your standards.’

‘Elevation?’ Ginny snorts. ‘Hardly. You’ve been a total bitch to me since I can remember. I spent most of last year trying not to hex you in the halls.’

‘And yet here you are.’

Ginny rolls her eyes. ‘It’s a one-time thing, Parkinson. Don’t get your hopes up.’

‘You flatter yourself in thinking I’ve had hopes of this going anywhere in the first place.’

‘Then there isn’t really any point of this conversation is there?’ Ginny snaps. Pansy can’t hide that spark of giddy excitement inside her. Oh, yes, it’s thoroughly entertaining, getting under the other girl’s skin, eliciting a reaction. Ginny Weasley is both bark and bite, she’s got fire and flushed cheeks and a healthy amount of audacity. If Pansy didn’t resent her a little she might’ve been grudgingly impressed.

‘There, there love.’ Pansy smiles, mockingly cheerful. ‘No need to be too upset. I have a feeling I’ll keep you around for a bit. Off you go now.’

'You—I—what—,’

‘Use your words, Weasley.’

‘This is a one-time thing.’

‘Said that last time too didn’t you? If I recall correctly.’

The tips of Ginny’s lovely ears turn bright red. She storms out muttering under her breath.

Pansy can’t help but wonder if she’s enjoying herself a tad too much. Still she brushes it away with the knowledge that Ginny would be running back after quidditch practice, despite her complaints of not extending their “one-time thing” that had already happened a few times too many.

Not that she was complaining. For purely selfish reasons of course.

[sliebman10]

Pride

(Narcissa/Lily, 111 words, @sapphicmicrofics )

"Where is your pride? You're a Black."

Narcissa could hear her mother's words in her head as clear as day as she made her way to the empty Charms classroom. Her perfect badge helped her escape any questions about why she was out of bed.

"Really, Narcissa? A Muggleborn? After everything we went through with your sister?"

But luckily for Narcissa, her mother was far away from Hogwarts and would never ever know about this.

She peeked into the classroom and found Lily waiting for her, perched on a desk. Lily grinned, her fiery hair dancing around her face in soft tendrils.

This was just for them.