#thought of another shortfic i could write using the other prompt you listed so look out for that :P

[dracognition]

I absolutely adore your writing!!! The way you write Drarry is so comforting and delicious. Would it be possible for you to do either 67 (Character in peril) or 27 (Sick/Injured fic) with 61 (Love Confession)?

67: character in peril + 61: love confession send me a trope mash-up!

They were going to die.

Harry knew it as surely as he knew his own name. They were locked in a small space, surrounded on all sides: the Mediwizards were a few minutes away yet, and even if they got here they wouldn't be able to make it through the blockade outside. It was a possibility every Auror knew they'd have to face and a possibility Harry'd been facing since he was eleven. They took down the largest cross-breed smuggling ring in all of Europe. He and Malfoy would probably have their names permanently engraved in the DMLE. It was an all-around success, other than the dying thing, so it was—it was fine.

Malfoy's eyes were wide. He was pressed up against Harry, his wand trembling just barely in his hand. Harry could practically hear his jackrabbiting pulse—could see the thin pale shape of his pinched face. "This is it, then," he said. His voice was pitched barely above a whisper.

"Not a bad way to go out." Harry tried for a grin and didn't quite make it there. "Finally got the glory you were always talking about, yeah?"

Malfoy laughed: a choked, humourless thing. "They're going to put a picture of us up in the halls."

"Next to the Dumbledore portrait."

"Ugh," said Malfoy. "Bit ironic, isn't it?"

"You've earned your keep, I think," said Harry absentmindedly. Terribly, unwisely, his attention was focused not on their impending doom—not on the footsteps making their way to the cupboard they'd gotten trapped in, not the bloody death that'd surely follow—but on the small unhappy curve of Malfoy's mouth, the way his hair fell into his eyes.

This is it, he thought, and then he thought: fuck it.

"You can push me away," he said roughly by way of warning, and then he pulled Malfoy into a desperate, hungry kiss. For a moment, Malfoy was entirely still—and then he sprung back, burying his hands in Harry's hair, biting his lip and groaning when Harry made a small noise in response.

"I've," he said around a pant, dropping kisses to Harry's upper lip, his chin, the line of his throat, then, "I'm—I love you. Thought you should know before we—"

"I thought," Harry said breathlessly. "I thought—I never knew—" Distantly, he heard the footsteps quickening, getting closer, and the last thing he'd feel would be Malfoy's mouth hot on his jaw, Malfoy's words plucking at his heart, and maybe this really wasn't a bad way to go out—

"Hm," said Hermione as the door burst open, her mouth doing that thing it did whenever she wanted to smile but was trying very hard to look stern. "Glad to see you two are so focused on the job."

Draco straightened, flushed pink, and staggered to his feet. His robes were rumpled and his tie was askew. Harry was torn between pulling him back down and finding a hole to crawl into and die. "If you hadn't noticed," he said, coolly, "we did the job already. It's finished."

Hermione's lips were still pursed, but when Harry gazed beseechingly at her and asked, "Can we go home and do all the paperwork tomorrow?", she openly laughed and waved them off with a congratulations.

"So," said Harry after a few minutes spent shuffling off the scene in silence. "About that thing you said earlier—"

"Urgh." Malfoy wrenched his face away. "We can just forget about it, please."

"But—" Harry paused, gripped Malfoy's wrist just to have something to hold onto. "But I don't want to."

Malfoy stared at him for three seconds. He was perfectly motionless, his expression as blank as a still pond. He said: "You didn't say it back, over there. So—"

"I thought the kiss was enough of a signal," Harry said drily. Something rippled over Malfoy's face, but it was gone before Harry could read it, and he rolled his eyes. "Obviously I love you too, you idiot; why else would I do that?"

"Us mere mortals don't dare ask why you do anything, Potter," said Malfoy superciliously, but he was smiling, and Harry smiled back.