“I Feel Like I’ve Forgotten Something,” Ron Says, Patting His Waistcoat Down Distractedly.

Happy 1st of May! 🌼

May is finally here! But sadly, this years beloved @microficmay is not.

@uncannycerulean and I were itching to get back into the writing groove, and with support from the microficmay mods, decided to create a daily prompt list in spirit of the event.

Any fandom, any ship! Feel free to tackle all 31, or just the ones that spark inspiration! For any prompts that aren't scratching the itch, there is an alterative list to choose from.

It's low-key, unserious, unofficial, meaning there is no ao3 collection to post to. Simply join in and have fun as you wish. And of course, this whole idea would not exist without the wonderful @microficmay starting it all. As this is not part of the official event, please refrain from tagging or using hashtags related to the official account, though we will all try to share the love for your works as much as possible! ❤️

Actually that no punctuation plot hole ooc wattpad fanfic written by that 12 year old will ALWAYS be better than character ai. And I love that 12 year old btw

god, your worst warrior needs money

for some reason, I have very specific head canons about the Malfoys’ Patronuses. Lucius probably isn’t competent enough to reliably produce one (and perhaps not happy enough either) but if he could it would be a Patronus. (But his happy thought is that he’s a Malfoy TM).

Narcissa absolutely can produce one and it’s a dragon. Both because while she may seem unassuming on the outside, she’s incredibly formidable, capable and fierce and because her motivating thought is always of her son Draco.

And Draco’s Patronus is a lion. Because of drarry. Because at his lowest the thought that keeps him going and the thought that finally lets him conjure Patronus in book 7 to drive away the Dementors around the school despite everything going on is that somewhere out there Harry Potter is still alive.

I don’t have to make everything gay but I want to and I fucking will 

since we were eighteen

For @drarrymicrofic prompt: "18" by One Direction. I went through like four different ideas/drafts for this prompt but this is what I got lol

"Did—did you know?" Draco asks, eyes downcast like he’s talking to the sidewalk.

Harry's throat is tight. "No," he says. "I didn't."

Draco presses his lips together and nods. He still doesn't look at Harry. "I see."

It’s quiet in the dark alley behind the pub, but Harry’s ears are full of static. He knows he needs to talk more; needs to stop Draco from filling in the blanks of Harry’s silence with his own assumptions. He knows Draco's guard rises with each second he lets pass without saying some version of what he’s thinking, which is, ‘I didn't know. But god, I wish I had.'

"It was Eighth Year, for me, " Harry says instead.

At that, Draco looks up sharply. Their eyes meet, and Harry sees the flare of hope on Draco's face; feels it in his own chest. "What?" Draco whispers.

"That's when I realized. For me, I mean," Harry blushes. "I obviously didn't know about you until, er, now. Like I said."

Draco blinks. "You mean to tell me you've been—"

"Yes."

"So all this time we could've—"

"Yep."

Draco closes his eyes and looses a sigh. When his eyes open again, he looks at Harry like the snitch in a tied Quidditch game. "Can I—?" His voice breaks, and his eyes fall to Harry's lips, and that's all he needs to say.

Harry sucks in a breath, and nods. Draco strides towards him and pulls him into a bruising kiss.

When they finally pull apart, Draco presses their foreheads together. "Will you say it?" He whispers. "I said it. And I know you implied—but I need to hear—"

"I love you, too," Harry murmurs. He presses a kiss to Draco's parted lips. "I'm in love with you."

It's not a memory Harry will ever forget—Hermione, stressed out of her mind, clutching a little blue box from the muggle pharmacy. She'd kept messing up the charm, which was the real giveaway that she was panicking, so Harry had gone to buy it.

He sat on the other side of the bathroom door.

It was shit timing. She was in the middle of her second year exams for magical law school. Ron was in Japan for the four weeks of the Quidditch World Cup, having been selected as one of just two assistant coaches for England after his meteoric rise as the junior coach for the Chudley Cannons, taking them from bottom of the league to third place nationally in just two years.

When Hermione comes out of the bathroom, Harry sits up straighter. "What'd it say?"

"It's not immediate," she says, voice high. She sits on the floor beside him. "We have to wait a few minutes." Hand trembling, she casts a countdown charm, then puts her head between her knees. Harry rubs a hand between her shoulder blades.

When her wand vibrates, she shakes her head, voice still high-pitched. "I can't look. I can't."

So Harry climbs to his feet and walks into the bathroom, to find the little plastic stick resting on the counter.

There are two pink lines, a perfect match.

Hermione looks up at him, face already wet, and he crouches down in front of her. "It's positive."

She bursts into fresh tears. "I c-can't have a baby. I can't! But Ron—Ron's g-going to h-hate me if I—if I get rid—"

"Shhh, shh," he pulls her tight against his chest. "No he won't. Ron loves you. It's okay. You don't have to start—" Something lodges briefly in his throat. "—a family yet." He smooths a hand over her bushy hair. "It's way too soon. You haven't even finished getting fifty degrees."

Among the great, big heaving sobs, she gives a broken, snotty laugh into his shirt.

Six years later, two weeks after his twenty-seventh birthday, Hermione is the one smoothing his hair back as he retches into the toilet. He's been feeling shit for days, and he's fucking over it. Finally, he sits back against the tiles, stomach muscles aching.

Ron's in the doorway, rocking baby Hugo to sleep. "Blimey, Harry. What did you eat? Slugs?"

Harry snorts weakly, reminded of second year. Eat slugs, Malfoy. Malfoy, his auror partner of almost two years now. Malfoy, who's been shagging him quite thoroughly for the last five weeks. Harry misses him, which feels pathetic, given he's only gone to Paris for three days with his mother. But it feels like a fucking lifetime when Harry's feeling so under the weather.

"I don't know," he answers, coughing at the lingering taste of bile. "I tried some Pepper Up, it hasn't helped at all."

"Harry," Hermione says slowly, a peculiar look in her eyes. "Have you been seeing someone?"

"Um. That's… a bit out of the blue." He presses a fingernail into a nearby line of grout, dropping his gaze.

"That's not a no."

He feels his face grow hot. He and Malfoy still haven't had the 'what are we' talk yet; there hasn't really been a lot of talking in general, to be honest. "Yeah. I—think so. I mean I am. Yes."

"Okay." She pulls out her wand, and Harry eyes it, alarmed. "I'm going to cast a... diagnostic charm on you. I want to check something."

"O...kay?" he echoes, wiping his forehead with the sleeve of his t-shirt. "I'm not under a love spell or anything."

"No, that's not—" She does a complex charm pattern in the air, and a pale blue glow fills the room.

Ron sucks in a sharp breath. "Holy fuck, are you saying he's—?!"

Hermione nods, eyes bright. "Harry—"

"Ten galleons it's Malfoy's," Ron says in a rush.

"Ron!" Hermione scolds. "Now is not the time! And I'm not taking that bet, I'm not stupid."

"Excuse me," Harry says. "What the fuck are you guys talking about?"

She crouches in front of Harry, and takes his hand.

"Harry. I think you're pregnant."

Match 👶 Day 16 of @peachydreamxx and @uncannycerulean’s prompts. Full collection on ao3.

literally every music genre has at least one album that will absolutely change your life if you give it a shot