#wrtrgrl @ao3

[wrtrgrl-spacewitch]

Fic Claim: I Wish

Seems to be a tradition of mine to write at least one poem for Owlpost lately. Very much enjoyed writing this one for @wilfriede I saw experimental writing on the wishlist along with the "Scared Potter, You Wish" dialogue and had to write this.

I Wish (Drarry, 268w, G, Poetry)

I wake and words echo You wish. Wish wish wish. The memory burns Like snake tongues slithering over my skin A distant past I yearn for Simple and uncomplicated Before we were broken Before the unspeakable was spoken Before choices and sides and bonds broken.

Finish Reading on AO3

[hdowlpost]

OWL GIFTS for @jadewritergirl

Coffee and kisses Summary: A drawing in a postcard, with some morning cuddles and a small stamp, also very domestic Art Medium: art + stamp Rating: G Notes: There are also some small surprise gifts sent through mail. WrtrGrl, I hope you'll enjoy them when you get the package!

Review/Comment of:Numb Little Bug Summary of Fic: Draco loves to look up at the stars to relax. If only he could do so without running into a certain green-eyed saviour. Word Count of Fic: 2,111 Rating of Fic: Ten Commenter's Notes:wrtrgrl, ( I got so excited when I saw this fic among your ao3 works )

Carols, a Blanket and a Soft Landing Summary: Harry and Draco have finished up a month-long undercover mission helping to solve a case in the land Down Under. Now they have a few days before Christmas to relax in the warmer weather and enjoy the local festivities, including a picnic dinner at Carols by Candlelight that is absolutely just two work colleagues enjoying a night out. Word Count: 6073 Rating: PG Contains: mild pining, oblivious!Harry, plus (Highlight to view) *Drop Bears, Milo, and ‘All I Want For Christmas is You’* Notes: Dear wrtrgrl, I tried to resist, but your winter prompt just fit too perfectly. I hope you enjoy the boys in your home country. Thank you to my amazing beta CJ for taking time out of your busy schedule to work your magic on this. And of course, to the Postmasters for their ever-enduring patience.

[wrtrgrl-spacewitch]

Fic Claim: The Very Bad, Terrible, Awful, Impossible Idea

Written for Owlpost for @legendrarry

I had so much fun with this one, despite feeling out of my depth writing a super confident Draco XD. Did my best though, and it came out far longer than I anticipated.

The Very Bad, Terrible, Awful, Impossible Idea (Drarry, 5.7K, G, Post-Hogwarts)

‘Potter,’ he says, eyes widening. His assistant spins around to see Harry standing there. ‘I told you to wait,’ she says in frustration, glancing back at Malfoy. ‘I told him to wait.’ Malfoy waves her off. ‘Potter has never been very good at following instructions,’ he steps back from the table and crosses his arms. ‘I’m surprised you came.’ ‘You told me to,’ he says, and steps further into the room, looking around to cover his discomfort. He feels disorientated. Malfoy is disorientating him. It's that bloody tee. Comfortable looking but form fitted with that wide v-neck and so totally unlike the usual button downs Harry is used to seeing on him. Malfoy is normally so refined, so orderly, and yet even in this relaxed get up he still looks so, so... so bloody good. It's... disorientating. Malfoy, standing with his arms crossed, begins to smirk. 'Yes,' he says, as if he knows exactly what Harry is thinking. ‘I did.’ Ugh. Harry steps over some fabric on the ground, edges around a rather precarious looking tower of button boxes and steps over to the table. ‘You said you could help me.’ Malfoy dips his head. ‘I did,’ he looks to his assistant. ‘It's alright Peg, you can go. I'll deal with Potter.’ Peg nods briskly. ‘Of course,’ she says and disappears back out into the shop. ‘You'll deal with me, will you?’ Harry asks. Malfoy snorts. ‘You're free to leave whenever you wish, Potter.’ ‘No, no,’ Harry says quickly. ‘It's fine. I don't mind if you deal with me.’ The second the words are out of his mouth he wishes he could take them back. Honestly, what is wrong with him. Malfoy's eyebrows raise and, if possible, his smirk gets even more cocky. Self-confident prick. ‘Well, in that case,’ he says. ‘Step right over here.’

Read on AO3

[wrtrgrl-spacewitch]

Fic Claim: Best Laid Plans

I wrote this fic for Mars for Owlpost and had a lot of fun with it. I always enjoy writing adult Drarry fics and had a lot of fun with this one.

Best Laid Plans: (Drarry, 2.3K, G, post-Hogwarts)

Summary: Harry and Draco attempt to "break the news" that they're dating to their respective children. It does not go as planned. In which Harry is embarrassed, Draco is exasperated, Albus and Scorpius are vindicated, and Blaise owes Hermione 10 galleons.

Excerpt: ‘So then,’ says James around a mouthful of ice-cream. He swallows and dips his spoon back into his bowl. ‘What’s this all about?’ ‘Hm?’ asks Harry, straightening. ‘What do you mean?’ James raises an eyebrow and glances sideways at Albus.  They share a look that Harry does not like. Lily, of course, is happily occupied by her ice-cream. ‘You brought us out for ice-cream,’ says Albus. Harry flushes, feeling hot and uncomfortable and a little defensive. Like he is the child and they are the adults. ‘Taking you out for ice-cream isn’t that unusual.’ James grins again and taps his spoon on the edge of his large bowl. ‘Yeah, but letting us getting three spoonfuls plus extras is unusual.’ ‘Last time you did that,’ says Albus softly, frowning down at his own bowl. ‘You and Mum were sitting us down to say you were splitting up.’ ‘Albus thinks someone is dying,’ Lily pipes up. Horror and realisation surge through Harry and he shakes his head, waving his hands and almost knocking over his milkshake. 'No, no, it’s nothing like that, I swear. It’s not bad.’

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[wrtrgrl-spacewitch]

Fic Claim: Drowning in Changing Tides

I was asked to pinch-hit for this year's Owlpost and managed to whip out this one :D

Though my writing has been fairly stagnant lately, Owlpost at least keeps me on the fringes of the fandom and reminds me how much I enjoy creating works like this.

This one was a little rushed so it's not well edited, but it was fun to write all the same.

Drowning in Changing Tides: (Drarry, 3.1K, M, 8th year)

There was a flash of something in Malfoy’s cool gaze. A vulnerability Harry hadn’t expected. It softened his features, making the angles and hollows of his face less sharp. More welcoming. Harry stared at him, suddenly transfixed. He'd never seen Malfoy’a face look this way before. His fringe falling softly into his eyes, so silver and bright like moonlight. His mouth, normally so cutting and barbed, smoothing out into something almost sweet and welcoming. Harry stared at it. He stared and stared and stared and then, without knowing it, without thinking it, he was leaning in to touch them with his own. To feel and taste and melt and as he did, all the emotions surging through him, all the noise in his mind, it all went quiet. ‘Oh,’ he said, unaware he’d even spoken. Malfoy blinked, eyes wide and shocked. ‘What-‘ He licked his lips and tried again. ‘What was that.’ ‘I don’t know,’ Harry said, voice still soft and amazed. ‘Oh,’ said Malfoy. ‘Oh,’ Harry mimicked.  And then they were kissing again.  That night Harry slept better than he had in— well he couldn't even remember. And that was how it had started.

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[wrtrgrl-spacewitch]

Despising Draco Malfoy - Chapter 64: Home

In which Draco proves that he ALWAYS gets what he wants, and "no" is not an answer he will accept.

‘I’ve got about five minutes before McGonagall figures out where I am and kicks my arse,’ Draco says, his voice hard and rough as he glowers down at Harry. ‘So I’m going to say something and you are going to shut the fuck up and pay attention, because I don’t have time to repeat myself.’

[wrtrgrl-spacewitch]

if you get this, answer w/ three random facts about yourself and send it to the last seven blogs in your notifs. anon or not, doesn't matter, let's get to know the person behind the blog ! No pressure though! 🌻

Oh gosh. Uhhh. Facts about myself okay 🤣

Okay fact number one: I have Combined ADHD (inattentive and hyper) which often results in intense bursts of passion on topics I enjoy coupled with a high level of self-consciousness. This means I find it hard to talk about myself while appearing as though I can’t shut up about myself 😅 and often lie awake at night thinking about how horrid and overbearing I was in conversation. It also means I find it incredibly difficult to respond to questions and reviews on my writing.

Which leads to fact two: my dream is to be a successful writer. Not outrageous success of course (I don’t have THAT much faith in my abilities) but enough to be comfortable enough to write full time and not struggle so much with bills. To enjoy this time with my family and give them the things they deserve to be happy (if that’s not too sappy).

Fact three: I have a published novel that I half hate and half love.

[hdowlpost]

OWL GIFTS for @thejadewritergirl

See on AO3: [Fanbinding] A Very Owl Post WrtrGrl Anthology

Summary: An anthology of one shots written by wrtrgrl and handbound with love Page Count: 209-page rounded back book Rating: Not Rated (original stories rated G-T) Contains: A plethora of snowflakes ❄️ Notes: Dear WrtrGrl — it was an honor to go through all your works on AO3! I hope you enjoy the collection!

Listen on AO3: Wanted

Summary: The Prophet posts yet another story about Harry, one that sets Draco's ire burning. Podfic Length: 8:53 mins Podfic Cover: anon Podfic File: mp3 (6.4MB) Rating: G Contains | Warrnings: Rumors, Friendship, Draco Malfoy is a Good Boyfriend, Fluff, Past Child Abuse, (mentioned very briefly), Podfic Notes: Dear wrtrgrl, this is one of my favorite stories of yours, and I very dearly wanted to podfic it. I hope it brings you joy during the holidays like how your story did for me ❤️

Beta Gift

...a story written for this year's hd_owlpost Summary: Will be added after the Reveal. * Beta gifts are not anon.

[wrtrgrl-spacewitch]

Wanted

This was an offcut of another Drarry fic that ended up not fitting. I always kinda liked it but couldn't find anywhere to put it. Anyway, today I decided to tidy it up a bit and post it anyways :) Read on Ao3

‘Hey!’ the unnamed Ravenclaw yelps as The Prophet he is reading is incinerated in his hands.

He looks up indignantly but Draco is already storming away, eyes scanning the room for any more copies of the offending paper.

His year mates, wisely, hang back. Blaise, though normally the voice of reason these days when Draco flies into a temper, trails along behind him, smiling that infuriatingly charming smile and soothing the outrage that follows in Draco’s wake.

He doesn’t try to stop Draco though and for that Draco is grateful. Frankly he has few friends left to risk alienating those that remain but even he can acknowledge that when it comes to Potter, there’s no controlling his ire.

Blaise never asks. Or, at least he hasn’t bothered trying since that time Draco hexed him severely enough to put him in the Hospital Wing overnight. The point remains, Blaise knows better than to question (or make any lewd suggestions) as to why Potter featuring on the front page of The Prophet this time has set Draco into a fury.

Yet, as Draco continues his rampage, he can’t get the look on Potter’s face as he fled the room out of his mind.

His stomach twists and he swallows, focusing instead on his anger as he storms toward Hufflepuff table. A third year hurriedly gathers the papers from her friends and thrusts them toward Draco, having seen him coming.

He sees a flash of “Potter Abused?” before the paper bursts into ash and charcoal. Potter’s face, pallid and horrified, flashes back into Draco’s mind. The trembling of his hands. The way his Adam’s apple had bobbed as he swallowed, green eyes glazing behind his glasses before the whispers begun and he had fled.

Draco’s face twists and the little Hufflepuff girl squeaks in terror as he stalks past. His fury takes him out of the hall—the few remaining copies of The Prophet would just have to wait a few hours for destruction.

When he knocks, he expects to be instantly turned away, but when Granger opens the door to his stoic and haughty expression she merely raises an unsurprised eyebrow and steps aside.

‘Took you long enough,’ she says, gesturing him in.

Raising an eyebrow, he steps through in the garish red of Gryffindor common room. ‘I had a few things to… take care of,’ he says. ‘Where is he?'

‘Second staircase, fourth door on the right,’ she says, pointing, and then falls into step behind him as he makes his way across the room.

Several Gryffindors glower as he passes, their disgruntled mutterings barely registering to him. After all, he has bigger fish to fry.

He doesn’t knock this time, merely steps into the room as if he owns it. Granger is half a step behind him—no doubt ready to jump to his defence should the worst happen—but her presence is unnecessary.

Draco takes a minute to find Potter’s bed—it’s not hard, it’s the only bed with the curtains drawn—and crosses the room in five strides. The other boys watch him, breaking out of their conversations and stopping their homework to eye him as he rips open the curtains around Potter’s bed.

Potter’s head snaps up, his eyes going wide behind his glasses as he spots Draco standing at the end of his bed—that annoyed little half frown getting swallowed up by shock.

‘Draco, what—?’

Draco sits down on the end of the bed, effectively cutting Potter off as he makes himself comfortable. He sits cross-legged facing Potter (who is moping with his knees pulled up, poking through an album of some sort) and gives the boy a steady look.

There’s a moment of silence.

Thomas and Finnigan are off in the corner—apparently still pretending they’re not in love with each other—attempting to look as though they aren’t watching.

Longbottom is sitting on the floor at the end of his bed with half a dozen plants and numerous books scattered around him (apparently none of the Gryffindor’s are concerned by this apparent desire to turn their dorm into a Greenhouse). He barely pays any attention to them as Draco makes himself comfortable, apparently no longer perturbed by Draco’s presence.

Weasley is the most open. He leans back on his bed and watches Draco, as if he’s not entirely sure if he should intervene or not.

Draco ignores them all.

The only person in the room he cares about is Potter. He focuses on him and only him, and when he opens his mouth to speak, he doesn’t say any of the carefully planned things he’d wanted to say. He doesn’t tell Potter to suck it up. Doesn’t tell him to pull himself together. Doesn’t tell him to forget the muggles and hold his head high because he’s the bloody Boy Who Lived for Merlin’s sake.

Instead he says, ‘Summer before third year my father and I had an argument. I don’t remember what started it—something about the Chamber of secrets, I think. I was just starting to realise what role my family was playing and I was uncomfortable. I was scared. However the argument started, it ended when my father slapped me.’

Potter’s eyes widen, but Draco doesn’t give him the chance to interrupt.

‘It was the first time he ever hit me, and it was the last time. My mother packed up all our things, dragged me out of the house and took me to her sister’s house. I have no memory of my mother ever speaking to Aunt Andromeda until we showed up on her doorstep that summer. But she took us in anyway. I hated it. I was young and selfish and I didn’t understand why. I hated her house. It was small and cramped and I missed our home. I missed my bedroom, and my horses, and my father.’

Weasley snorts, but Potter’s gaze doesn’t shift from Draco’s face, and so he resists the urge to tell Weasley where to fuck off to.

‘My father came to beg Mother to bring us home every day. And every day she would lock me in my too-small room and prevent me from seeing him until he’d left. I didn’t see him for over a month, and when Mother finally let me see him I got a formal apology. I found out later that he’d had to swear an unbreakable vow to never lay hands on me again; but he did, and we finally went back home. And my mother hasn’t spoken to my Aunt Andromeda since. I sometimes forget she even has another sister. Yet, even though they don’t speak, even though they don’t get along, and even though I was a rude, snotty, spoilt, selfish little shit, she never treated us with anything but kindness and caring while we stayed with her. Because that’s what family does.’ Draco pauses and leans back on the bed, keeping his gaze steady on Potter’s. ‘That’s what you should have had.’

Potter’s eyes flash wide, his breath sucking in and Draco see’s the realisation hit. There’s a sheen to his eyes as he drops his head, gaze flicking off to the side. A flush creeps up his neck, and Draco is acutely aware of the fact that other people are watching, and he knows Harry is too.

‘If you want, I’ll never mention this topic again. However,’ says Draco and he sees Harry’s shoulders tense. ‘I think it prudent to remind you that while your muggle relatives may have forgotten their duty as your family; you do have another family. One, that you are so fond of telling me, that you chose. And if I know anything at all about the Weasley’s, it’s that, for whatever misguided reason, they love you. They would never treat you without kindness and caring.’

There’s a long moment of silence. Harry stares at the bedcovers, fighting the urge to cry.

‘Merlin,’ says Weasley, breaking the quiet. ‘Now I feel really bad about calling you a cold prick earlier.’

Draco leans back on his hands and flicks Weasley a wry grin. ‘Don’t take it personally, I still think you’re an idiot.’

Harry snorts, sucking in a sharp breath that is half laughter and half a choked sob. He wipes a hand across his eyes, pushing his glasses up. ‘You’re right,’ he says, and though his voice is thick and miserable he offers Draco a wan little smile.

‘Of course I am,’ says Draco primly.

Harry snort again. ‘Git,’ he says, and throws a pillow at Draco.

Draco smirks, shoves the pillow behind his back and settles in. ‘Now, just so we’re clear, when you say I’m right, you’re including the fact that Weasley is an idiot, yes?’

Weasley glowers, turns to Harry and says darkly, ‘your boyfriend is a menace.’

Harry grins, soft and beautiful and a little bit sad. ‘Yeah,’ he says softly, ‘but he’s a wonderful menace. Most the time.’

Draco feigns offence and tosses the pillow back at Harry who chuckles, bittersweet and not quite happy, but not miserable, either. The laugh of someone who was once wounded but is learning to heal, and when he looks at Draco with eyes no longer filled with tears, but bright with amusement, the last of Draco’s anger ebbs away.

‘You’re wanted, you know,’ he says.

Harry flushes and looks away. ‘Yeah,’ he says softly. ‘I guess I’m finally starting to realise that. Thanks.’

There’s a brief moment of comfortable silence.

‘I still think he’s a bloody menace,’ mutters Weasley.

[wrtrgrl-spacewitch]

Numb Little Bug

Read on AO3

A little bit tired of tryin' to care when I don't A little bit tired of quick repairs to cope A little bit tired of sinkin'; there's water in my boat, I'm barely breathin'; trine stay afloat So I got these quick repairs to cope.

Draco’s legs protest the long walk up to the top of the Astronomy Tower, but despite the long day of traipsing around the castle to his overflowing 8th year classes, he continues the long trek up to the balcony; the thought of the welcoming night sky, wide and expansive above him pulling him ever onward.

He steps out onto the balcony, the cool night air washing over him and instantly setting the stress of the day at ease. He closes his eyes, inhaling, smelling fresh rain off on the horizon and relishing the thought of an hour or so alone up here under the stars.

When he opens his eyes, his gaze is met by green.

Draco’s heart lurches and he tries—fails—to hold onto the gasp that lodges in his throat.

‘Potter,’ he says, managing to keep his fright out of his tone.

Green eyes blink back at him. ‘Malfoy,’ says Potter his even voice matching Draco’s.

His lips quirk in a half semblance of his old smile, then he turns away, back toward the forest.

Draco freezes, realising for the first time exactly where Potter is sitting. His legs dangle over the edge of the balcony as he leans on his knees, staring out over the grounds, seemingly unbothered by the fatal drop he is playing chance with.

Draco’s throat constricts and he hesitates. ‘If you’re going to jump, could you wait until after I leave?’

He winces almost as soon as the words are out of his mouth. If Potter were going to jump that was probably the most idiotic thing he could say.

However, Potter merely glances back at him, mouth back in that strange half-smile that is at once too relaxed and yet entirely expressionless.

‘I’ll keep that in mind,’ he says dryly.

‘Er, right,’ says Draco. ‘Well, I’m going to look at the constellations. Over there. Just…if you decide to, well, some warning would be good. I’d rather not be caught up after.’

‘Alright.’

Draco frowns. He debates going for help. Perhaps letting one of Potter’s insipid little friends know that the boy is up here practically flirting with death…but…but Potter looks out over the grounds, the profile of his face clear, his muscles relaxed and slack, his legs kicking like a child sitting in a chair that is too big.

Draco thinks back, pulling up every memory of Potter in class over the last several weeks, realising as he did so that this is the most relaxed he’s seen Potter since the start of the school year.

The realisation gives him pause.

Potter, still looking out over the grounds, says, ‘Relax, Malfoy. I’m not here to jump.’

He says this like they’re discussing nothing more significant than the weather, and it sends a shiver of discomfort along Draco’s spine. He shakes it away, recomposing himself and striding over to the other side of the balcony.

‘Well, good then,’ he says imperiously. ‘I’d rather not be saddled with the bother of it all.’

Potter snorts. ‘Right.’

**

The next time he has a craving to be out under the stars, Draco decides against the tower. He wants wide open spaces and no risk of temperamental Gryffindors that may or may not plummet off of high towers. So instead he trudges out to the quidditch pitch.

It’s too cold a night for flying, but the walk is refreshing, and he looks up at the sky as he wanders.

It’s because he’s looking up, that he doesn’t see the boy until he almost trips over him.

‘Fucking—Bloody hell who the fuck—Potter? Oh of fucking course you’re here.’

Potter, looking startled and half frozen in the thin, threadbare tee he’s wearing, scrambles back out of the way as Draco attempts to catch his footing.

‘Jesus, don’t you watch where you’re walking?’

‘Well I wasn’t exactly expecting to find someone lying out in the freezing cold out here all alone. You know you have a bed, or did they finally get sick of you and throw you out?’

Potter snorts, pushing up to his feet and brushing off his clothes (unsuccessfully, mind). ‘I wish,’ he mutters.

He bends and picks up a pot plant that Draco hadn’t noticed in the dark. ‘Interesting choice of companion. Have you finally cracked?’

Potter shoots him a look that is almost irritated. Almost. There’s a flicker of something there in the brief tightening of the otherwise slack muscles of Potter’s face.

’Neville thinks taking care of a plant will help me… feel better.’

‘I see,’ says Draco dubiously, eyeing the plant with distaste. Actually, it’s a rather pretty looking plant, if Draco were into that sort of thing. He shakes his head and eyes Potter again.

Potter shrugs and glances off toward the castle. ‘I suppose I should go back,’ he says, as if he’d rather do anything else.

‘It is almost curfew,’ Draco acknowledges with a sigh. ‘Pity,’ he says, looking up at the sky. ‘It’s such a clear night.’

‘The sky is, at least,’ says Potter, glancing upward with a wistful expression. ‘If only everything else was.’

**

Draco used to love astronomy. It was something he shared with his mother. A love of the stars. It was almost genetic, really. An ancient Black family tradition, and just the mere thought of stargazing relaxed him.

There was something strangely soothing about looking up at the constellations, so vast and unknowing, and realising just how insignificant your own problems were in the grand scheme of the universe. Everything just seemed to matter less, looking up there.

He wondered if that’s what drew Potter out there, night after night?

‘Nothing works.’

‘What?’ asks Draco, not turning his head away from the sketch he’s making of Andromeda constellation.

Potter sighs and shuffles. Glass clinks, and Draco looks up, catching sight of the potion vials Potter is rolling in his palm. ‘Never mind,’ he says, and swings a leg over so he’s straddling the balcony. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

He looks up at the sky, letting the vials tumble from his hand, out over the edge of the balcony to tumble down the side of the tower.

Draco frowns. But Potter simply watches them fall, face expressionless, before swinging his other leg over and hoping down from the wall.

He shoves his hands into his pockets and offers Draco a dip of his head. ‘See you around, Malfoy.’

‘Sure,’ says Draco, and watches him go with a frown.

This situation was starting to get rather worrisome.

**

‘For fucks sake could you please get down from there?’ Draco says, unable to contain the anxiety creeping through him.

Potter, the infuriating sod, doesn’t move. ‘I already told you, I’m not going to jump.’

‘No, but you might bloody fall if you keep laying there like that.’

Potter leans up on one elbow, eyebrow raised as he glances down at Draco. Draco who is sat on the opposite wall, clutching his quill in one hand but unable to draw anything for the sight of Potter laying sprawled on the top of the damn balustrade.

‘Alright, fine,’ says Potter, and rolls sideways.

A dozen different muscles relax in Draco’s arms and legs once Potter is safe off the wall. ‘Honestly, did anyone ever tell you that you have some rather concerning sleeping habits.’

Potter snorts. ‘Nope. And anyway, I don’t sleep. I wasn’t going to fall. Probably.’

‘How comforting.’

Potter grins, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. The faint light that Draco has conjured glints off the smooth skin around Potter’s unsmiling eyes, touches on the shadows there.

I don’t sleep.

‘Relax. It’s too nice a night tonight for dying. And anyway, aren’t I supposed to wait until after you’re gone?’

This time, Draco doesn’t leave until after Potter does, that faint hint of anxiety still trailing along his skin as he watches the boy disappear back down into the depths of the castle.

**

‘What did you tell Hermione and Ron?’

Anger flashes in those dark green eyes, and Draco feels a surge of satisfaction at the sight.

‘Well, I might have wondered why they hadn’t made any attempt to help you through whatever obvious crisis you’re having,’ says Draco offhandedly, determined not to let Potter see his unease.

‘I’m fine,’ Potter all but snarls. ‘But thanks to you they think I’m suicidal.’

‘Aren’t you?’

‘No!’

‘Oh sure, that’s why you keep coming up here is it? To decide whether or not to jump?’ Draco isn’t sure why he says it. He believes Potter. The way he’s acting is certainly bizarre, but the boy has never outright done anything to indicate he would actively hurt himself.

Actively being the keyword there.

‘For fucks sake!’ Potter exclaims in a burst of fury. ‘I don’t want to jump!’

‘Not tonight, anyway,’ says Draco, mockingly, acerbic.

Potter takes two steps, coming in close, green eyes blazing with a fire that has been nothing more than embers for weeks now. His fists clench at his sides and he glowers at Draco.

Draco steels himself, ready for the hit to come, ready to start swinging given the first chance. Oh he won’t start the fight. He’s not that stupid. But he’s been waiting for this for days now. It was inevitable really, after running into each other so many times now.

Then, all at once, the fire burns out again, and Potter all but relaxes back into that infuriating state of expressionless nothing. Frustration curls through Draco, and he toys with the idea of hitting Potter anyway, of trying to throw some gas onto the dying flames that was Harry Potter.

Potter turns his face away from Draco’s and swallows. ‘I don’t want to jump,’ he says, voice quiet, defeated. ‘I just… I want to feel… something. I don’t know.’

He steps away, running a hand over his face. ‘I’m just tired. I don’t know how to feel anything else right now. I try. I do try. Hermione and Ron…they mean well, but they keep trying to make me feel better. And I don’t. I can’t. It’s exhausting. Trying to pretend I care when all I feel is…’ He takes a shaky breathe. ‘I don’t want to die. I’ve done that already. But that’s the problem. I think… I think I came back broken, and I don’t know how fix it. I don’t know how to feel it. And I just so desperately want to feel something.’

He turns to Draco, imploring and desperate and all the cruel things Draco has ever called him, and yet never before has Draco understood Potter like he does right now.

Draco looks up at the cloudy night sky, so dark and heavy above their heads, and sees a peak of moonlight filtering through the clouds. A peek of hope in the night. Of light in the dark.

He looks back at Potter. He takes one step. And another. He’s not sure what he’s doing, hasn’t thought it through, only that he knows he has to get that look of despair and hopelessness off Potter’s face. He has to answer that question lurking in those infuriatingly brilliant eyes. He has to make Potter feel something.

He grasps the front of Potter’s robes and pulls.

He closes his eyes before their lips meet, too terrified of he’s doing to look. To see the shock or the disgust or the anger.

Potter is frozen against him, and yet… and yet warmth floods through Draco.

Fire surges through him, and, in an instant, it’s as though that fire flows straight through Draco’s veins and into Potter.

Hands slid up Draco’s back, and the lips against his unfreeze, warm and soft and tasting faintly of treacle tart. A small noise, half a whimper, half a sigh, rumbles in the back of Potter’s throat, thrumming out into their joined lips, and Draco shivers.

He opens his eyes, pulling away as Potter does, his heart hammering in his chest as he stares in disbelief at what he’s just done.

‘Feel something yet?’ he says, the only thing he can think to say.

‘I…’ Potter licks his lips, blinking and wide-eyed. ‘I’m not sure. I think… I think I might… need another try.’

Something else creeps along the disbelief that has hold of Draco. Something like smugness and daring. He grins.

‘I think I can arrange that,’ he says, and yanks Potter back in close.

[wrtrgrl-spacewitch]

Wanting Harry - Cover Graphic

Created for @digthewriter for their story Wanting Harry as a part of @hdowlpost 2021.

Not gonna like this made me super nervous to post haha. I've only just started with cover art design in the last three or four months, and mostly just for myself.

[wrtrgrl-spacewitch]

Despising Draco Malfoy Update

Chapter 63: Aftershocks

Poppy nods at him in gratitude, but Albus ignores it. He has already lost a child on his watch once. He has no intention of losing another.

Alright, okay, so it’s finally done. I have finally uploaded the next chapter of DDM and yes, I know, it’s been ages and I’m slack but, unfortunately life got the better of me and my writing kinda fell by the wayside ☹️

Anyway, thanks so much for sticking with me and I hope you enjoy this instalment ☺️

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17918129/chapters/83141977

[wrtrgrl-spacewitch]

So I know, I know, that I still have DDM to finish. But also, there’s this fic idea that has been plaguing me for months - literal months. I actually signed up to Big Bang to write it but then… well life happened and I had to drop out.

But I think you guys might love it. I already do, and so far it’s just a bunch of random scenes in my head.

It’s angsty. It’s moody. It’s poor wee broken Harry dumped into an Alternate Universe filled with all the things he could ever dream of, but he’s too fragile and broken to accept it, and there’s a lot of healing that needs to be done, and one day many many words and chapters in he will look at Lily and call her Mum and it’s going to be beautiful and heartfelt and honestly I am so freaking excited to get to it!

It’s gonna be squishy and I love it. (And of course, it’s a Drarry).

[wrtrgrl-spacewitch]

Mosh:

There is a moment of silence - brief and overshadowed - a hush that falls just before the rumble of noise begins.

A feeling grows in the momentary quiet (which is not quite silence but rather anticipation). There is a noise to anticipation. A hum. A buzz that starts in your feet and builds to your chest, igniting in your soul.

Lights go up, the sound check crackles and a voice cat calls. A single, solitary call. But not for long.

Voice upon voice, fire upon smoke, elation upon joy. The crowd erupts. You close your eyes and scream, right from the bottom of your heart, dragging it up from your toes until your throat is raw and you still can’t help but grin and all the while - you can’t hear your own cry amongst the call of the crowd.

Bodies press in. Heat erupts. Summer is over, but not in the crowd. Hearts thud in time with your feet in time with the beat.

This moment lasts forever, and yet also no more than a single, ephemeral, nanosecond.

They arrive on stage and the noise, impossibly and beautifully and euphorically, becomes an eruption upon an eruption.

Still, it is not yet the peak of noise, which comes as the words spill forth from speakers bulging past their limits. The ground pounds, boots thump, ears pop from the sheer volume of voices screaming the lyrics - half wrong and half right and all the while elbows poke into backs and feet stomp on feet and reaching hands bump heads in an attempt to catch that one perfect picture and a smell of sweat and heat and musk pervades the air that in any other circumstance would not be acceptable.

But we don’t care. YOU don’t care. You flow with a crowd you wouldn’t otherwise delve into. You scream words you cannot hear. You ignore the elbows you cannot feel. Because you are lost in the moment, in the pure, unadulterated sound of it all.

The intensity is almost overwhelming…and yet…it is not nearly enough.

Too soon, though it feels like forever, the lights dim, and the soundboard dies. Spotlights flare. Boots trudge down on crushed empties scattered across the ground.

Your muscles ache, your calves burn, you can’t feel your toes and your voice is making rasping noises it shouldn’t.

Yet you grin. You dance. You hum words to songs you heard hours ago.

Your world is at it’s highest height and nothing can bring you down.

Nothing… except perhaps the morning after.

[wrtrgrl-spacewitch]

Despising Draco Malfoy update!

I have finally, finally, finished chapter 63 and sent it to my new amazing beta reader 😁

In the meantime if you need to catch up or have missed the last few chapters here’s a link to chapter 62: The Rumour Mill

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17918129/chapters/76118198

[wrtrgrl-spacewitch]

So clearly Summer is not a good season for me writing wise. Two years in a row now I’ve been completely useless with words December - February. Things are slowly coming back in but...sigh. It’s slow and tedious and frustrating.

I do apologise to anyone waiting for an update for DDM, I am working on it I swear, it’s just...fighting me...a bit. Also I have about four different things I want to do next with the story and I’m unsure what order to do them in. Along with the fact that I’m pretty sure I hate the last chapter and I don’t know what to do to fix my dislike of it. Anyway, just wanted to let you guys know that I haven’t abandoned the story and that I am trying to get an update out soon.