Quick Drawing I Did Instead Of Paying Attention To My Online Class Xd... I've Been Thinking A Lot About

Microfic May: “Pathetic”

Day 4 of the unofficial Microfic May by @peachydreamxx and @uncannycerulean Thank you to @the-forbidden-forest for the alpha read!

“You’re pathetic,” Draco says. But there’s no bite to it. It’s not like how he’d said it in school, when he’d made a sport of riling Harry up, of looking down on him and his friends. Not like in Auror training—paired together as equal-opportunity punishment by a boss who disliked them both—when they’d taken the one upmanship to a new level, but somehow Draco always seemed to best him, spurring Harry to keep aiming higher. It’s not even tenderly mocking, like on their wedding day, tears streaming down Harry’s face after Draco had slipped the band onto his finger. “Pathetic,” Draco repeats, barely a whisper, as he hooks his chin over Harry’s shoulder to gaze down at the sleeping bundle in Harry’s arms. “How long have you been sitting here?” “Since he fell asleep. I just can’t put him down,” Harry admits, running the pad of his finger under the fold of blanket to reveal the face of their newborn son, nestled inside. Draco sighs into the curve of his neck.“I love you.” “That," Harry says softly, not a bit of bite to it, "is because you’re just as pathetic for me as I am for you."

Read day 3 | Read them all on AO3

hang

There’s a moment that feels, every time, like suspension. When I can smell the wind off his skin and feel the heat of his gaze but I can’t taste the press of his lips. Not yet.

And every time, I hang there, strung up in the wires that run between my flighty eagerness and his silver restraint, until he sees whatever it is that he needs to see.

And then—he kisses me, and I land safely, swiftly. Every time. 

the "canon isn't real we make our own rules" to "i am begging you people to revisit the source material" pipeline

Drarry where the Golden Trio are having a slightly tipsy 'Hear me out' conversation as they passed around a bottle of Elvish wine that they nicked from Slughorn's office.

"What about Gordon Horton?"

Harry and Hermione shared a confused look.

"Come on! Keeper for the Chudley Canons?"

"You're supposed to pick people we know, Ronald."

"Well excuse me," Ron said, throwing his hands in the air. "I forgot that you two have no taste."

"No taste! I will have you know that my taste is sophisticated and refined. Clearly something you don't relate to."

"Oh, oh, I see. Well since your taste is so sophisticated then by all means tell us who is your pick."

"There's Merrill Medlar. She's the chief editor of—"

"Who the hell is that? What happened to people we know?"

Harry hadn't had enough wine to tolerate their constant bickering.

"Malfoy," Harry said loudly, interrupting what would have surely been a row. "What about Malfoy?"

"Which one?" Ron and Hermione said at the same time before glaring at each other.

"What do you mean which one?" Harry frowned. "The choice is obviously—"

"Lucius." They said in unison again.

"What?" Harry gaped at them. "Lucius is a right piece of—"

"Wait," Hermione held up her hands, eyes wide. "You can't mean Draco then?"

"Of course I meant—"

"Don't say his name! Ugh, I never want to know him as Draco," Ron said, shuddering.

"Maybe I do!" Harry said, unsure why he was getting heated.

The two of them shared a long look that said a lot more than he could translate and he kind of wished they were back to arguing. At least that was familiar.

"I think I would've rather you had said Snape."

Harry's mouth parted before it closed, and he gave a considering hum. "You know, in the spirit of a true hear me out, Snape would fit."

Hermione snickered as a choked gurgle escaped Ron.

"I was joking!" Ron cried, head in his hands. "Merlin if you ever shag Snape—"

"Shag?" Harry let out a strangled meep. "If I'm going to shag someone it would be—"

"Malfoy," they said together, and part of him wondered if they were really Fred and George under Polyjuice because it was getting freaky.

"I think I'm going to be sick," muttered Ron. "I knew we'd uncover some more about each other, but I'd honestly like to cover it right back up."

"We can pretend it didn't happen," Harry offered, biting his lip as he tried to think of someone else. "What about Charlie?"

"Charlie?" Ron frowned. "My Charlie?"

"Oh," Hermione said, brows lifting. "Yes, I can see it."

"No no," Ron shook his head. "We aren't doing this. Let's get back to Harry wanting to shag Malfoy."

"It's not that I want to shag—"

"I think it's more than that," Hermione said, voice low as if she was sharing a secret. "I think he likes Malfoy."

Ron collapsed backward as if he had been shot, groaned as if he had been too. "This is too much for me."

Harry rolled his eyes, taking a large mouthful of wine. He was going to need it.

"It's not that bad."

"Yes, it is, Hermione. If Harry wants to shag Malfoy and he likes him then they'll get married and have little spawns that look like Malfoy and they'll call me Uncle Ron and then I'll just have to like them because I can't be mean to a child, but they'll look just like him and then I'm going to have a complex—"

"I think you're having a complex right now."

"And whose fault is that? Huh, Harry?"

"I never said I wanted to marry him."

"You never said you didn't though," Hermione argued, tone suggesting she was on to something.

Harry sighed loudly as they continued to debate his future. A future that held Malfoy in it. The longer they talked the more he considered it.

It was true that he wanted to shag Malfoy, but it was also true that he liked him. He just hadn't really let himself think of how much.

"I think I'm going to find Malfoy," Harry said, staggering to his feet and rather proud that he hadn't fallen over. Maybe he hadn't drank as much as he thought he had.

"Great, just great," Ron cried. "My life is over. Might as well start calling me Uncle Ron."

The portrait closed right as Hermione said,

"I think you're being rather dramatic, Uncle Ron."

Draco Malfoy is a Girl Dad. You're telling me this man wouldn't wear a feather boa and sit in a comically small chair drinking tea (water) from a tiny china cup??? Unacceptable. That man's entire existence revolves around his daughter's convoluted stuffed animal heirarchy.

if it sucks hit da bricks <- litany against sunk cost

take it easy but take it <- litany against burnout/apathy cycle

fuck it we ball <- litany against perfectionism

now say something beautiful and true <- litany against irony poisoning

X. Scene

<- previous

The living room walls began to form a mosaic of jigsaws. Each of them depicted different scenes: landscapes, more gardens, some of architecture, and a memorable one of a kneazle. Yet with all these idyllic images on the wall Draco’s eyes were always drawn to the picture in front of him: Potter on his knees as his eyes rapidly searched the table for the right pieces. 

Through all their differences they somehow managed to work together. The images started appearing faster, the piece count started to go up, and they continued to build in harmony. Draco’s attention went back to the puzzle as Potter placed the last piece.He added it to their museum as Draco thought, What an odd scenery we must make.

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Incredibly random me drawing this because I friend challenged me to do it 🤷🏻‍♀️

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