Drarry Oneshots 2

autumn orchids

nyx??? writing fluff?? who are they

(nyx??? uploading?? who are they)

nobody yell at me I went down a dsmp rabbithole and started writing that over on a03 I dont wanna hear it

i'm here now that's all that matters

inspired by this post of little words to use in a story:

https://creativepromptsforwriting.tumblr.com/post/683052926957125632/may-prompts-word-prompts-to-use-for-doodling-or

They are not together.

This is what Harry rationalizes when they go to the farmer's market at eight a.m., Draco's smile brighter than the morning light when he begs Harry to buy him a Muggle juice box (he calls it a "juice bin", but he beams with the power to illuminate his whole face when Harry hands it over, so Harry keeps his mouth shut and lets him call it what he wants).

The autumn breeze is cool, but Harry has never felt warmer.

They are not together.

This is what Harry tells Hermione after he orders Draco's coffee-to-go off the top of his head, knowing every stupid addition he puts in it that barely makes it coffee anymore. She gives him a look, like she knows something he doesn't, and he tells her it is nothing, they are just friends. She shakes her head, but doesn't push it.

(And if he blushes when he brings Draco the coffee and the boy thanks him with a bright smile, that's none of Hermione's business.)

They are not together.

This is the mantra Harry chants when Kingsley exclaims that he and Draco won the week-long getaway in the raffle he was pretty sure he hadn't even entered.

Draco is beyond excited when they get to the island, and Harry can't help but feel a little empty when the blonde disappears for two hours, leaving his luggage by the door in favor of exploring.

Harry does some exploring of his own, wandering through the lake house. There are photographs of a family he doesn't recognize on the mantel. The house is cold, but he doesn't know where the heater is. Why would they win a lake house in the middle of the winter?

He goes outside despite the bitter chill, and stands by the lake. The water looks calm, inviting. Tiny cerulean waves nearly touch his feet, and he finds himself biting back a grin as he steps back, nostalgia of being small and running from the waves hitting him at once.

Clouds gather in the sky, and he wonders where Draco is, if the boy has gotten himself lost in the trees on the island. He is mere moments from going to retrieve the boy, before said blonde steps out from the small forest, grinning brightly.

"Isn't it beautiful?" he cheers, spreading his hands out to the sky.

Harry, never tearing his eyes away from the blonde, nods.

They are not together.

This is what Harry tells himself as he holds a rag carefully to Draco's leg, resting upon his thighs so he can reach. He had cut it on a branch during one of his little adventures into the island forest, and despite the small trickles of blood running down his thigh, he is smiling just as brightly as he always does.

Petrichor emanates from the air; the rain had stopped nearly an hour ago, but the scent remains in the air, filling the lake house.

"Would you like to come with me next time?" Draco asks, and Harry would be a dead man before he'd be able to say no to that.