Where Every Scroll is a New Adventure
the renaissance of freaky vampires in media makes me so unbelievably happy it’s what god intended.
If someone were to ask me what me least favourite trope is, I'd say booktok dark romance to a normal person.
But what I would really think inside is whatever fucked up combination of ANGST HURT AND SUFFERING THIS FIC IS BECAUSE WHAT
HOW DO YOU FIT THAT MUCH INTO 40K???
Guys I'm starting chapter 17, I had to finish on chapter 3 last night because I couldn't do it. I should've just dropped it when I had the chance, now I low-key have to finish this. Please go give it a read, there are few things that make me scream so bad my neighbour has to check no one's breaking in
I Think About You Sometimes [Pastel Flowers] on Ao3, written by yuuuki_ris
M/M
Alhaitham/Kaveh
A tag i'd like it add : The dog gets better before it just fucking dies.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/59366269?view_full_work=true
I wrote a fic for a discord challenge: Outsider POV. Read below or on AO3
Tags:
POV Outsider, Major Character Death, Draco Malfoy in Azkaban, Angst and Tragedy, Hallucinations, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Hurt/Comfort, Auror Harry Potter, Sad Ending
Summary:
An Azkaban guard bears witness to Draco and Harry and all that stands between them.
Inmate #227: D. Malfoy. High Risk. 24-hour guard. No visitors.
Don’t interact with the inmate. That was one of the first things she’d been told during training. She was to stand guard, silent and alert. She was not to engage.
—
“What the fuck did you do that for?” Harry Potter spat. He was angrier than she’d ever seen him in the papers.
He wasn’t a visitor. He was here on ‘official Auror business.’
Malfoy lay in his cot, staring at the ceiling. He’d been that way since he’d arrived, straight from his trial. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t play dumb. I was there!” The wards stretching between them shuddered.
“I’m not sure why you’re asking me about it, then.”
“I want to know why. We had a plan. You didn’t just stray from it, you blew it up. With wandless fucking magic!”
Malfoy sat up, turned. “They insulted her! You know how I—I couldn’t control it.”
“They’re gonna use this to jack up your sentence. All that work we did—”
—
Malfoy’s sentencing hearing lasted no more than 15 minutes. Two Aurors escorted him back to his cell. Harry Potter, pale and unsteady, wasn’t far behind.
“Draco, I—”
“Twenty years,” Malfoy said. His voice shook.
“It’s okay, I’m going to fix this. I’m gonna get Hermione and I—we’re gonna fix this.”
Malfoy laughed. “You’re an idiot, Potter.”
—
Harry Potter visited every few weeks. Today, he vibrated with fevered enthusiasm. She watched his steps as he paced in front of the cell.
“There’s heaps of evidence of corruption, not just in the Wizengamot. With the right angle, Hermione thinks we can build a really strong case. Maybe—Draco, are you listening to me?”
“No.”
—
“No luck?” Malfoy was leaning against the wall, picking his nails. He seemed unconcerned, but she knew better. He’d paced in his cell right up to the minute Harry had stepped through the door.
“I don't know why you're so smug about it.”
“Even the Boy Who Lived can't save the poor teenage Death Eater.”
Harry ran the toe of his boot along the stone floor.
“Twenty years Draco. I'm not sure I can—”
“I'm not asking you to.”
—
“I dreamt about that night on the rooftop, when we—”
“Oh.” A small private smile flickered across Harry’s face.
She started to wonder if it really was Auror business he was here for.
“I think you should stop coming by, Harry.”
—
It had been a few months, but Harry came back. It seemed he couldn’t keep away.
Draco’s voice was sharp. “What are you doing here, I told them I didn't want—”
“I paid off the guards.”
A scoff. “Of course.”
Harry stepped closer to the barrier. “You look—have you been sleeping?”
Draco laughed, shifting his gaze to her as if they shared an inside joke.
—
“They agreed to a hearing,” Harry exclaimed.
She hadn’t seen Draco get out of his cot for 72 hours. Today was no exception.
“Well, aren't you pleased?” Harry prompted.
“I have no feelings about it one way or another.”
—
“I saw Mother last night.” Draco’s eyes were puffy. Her colleague had said he’d been crying all night.
“Oh.”
“This place, Harry. I need to get out.”
Harry tugged his maroon robes.
“I'm so sorry. They upheld the decision.”
Draco put his head in his hands.
—
“I saw Mother again. He was there, too.”
“I'm sorry. Let's talk about something happy.”
“Happy?”
“Christmas. At The Manor? You remember, we tried to make gingerbread?”
A soft chuckle, “Oh yes, that was…”
—
“I can’t stop the dreams. I could never—the only time they stopped was when we—”
“I know,” Harry rested his forehead against the barrier. “Gods, I wish I could hold you.”
The dementors were gone, but the infection they’d left behind was vicious. She wondered if she should log an incident report. Nightmares were an early sign.
—
Draco had been pacing and muttering for hours before Harry arrived.
“Draco.”
“I’ve still got that twelve inch charms essay to finish.”
“Draco, it’s me. Harry.”
Draco kept pacing.
“Will you look at me?”
Draco did. “I miss you.”
—
“Mother visited last night,”
“Oh really?”
“She says hello.”
“Well, that’s nice of her.”
—
“Harry, I keep seeing him. I keep—I don’t want to go back there.”
“I know.”
“I’m scared.”
“I know. It’s okay. I’m gonna fix this.”
She felt it was rather unfair of Harry to give him false hope.
—
“We’re going to keep trying, I’m not giving up.”
“It’s okay, Harry.”
A strangled sound. “No. Don’t—”
“At least we got those months. That’s more than I ever…” Draco pressed a hand against the barrier, and the gesture seemed like a declaration.
“Don’t,” Harry whispered, a plea.
—
“I wish we’d had more time,” Harry said.
Draco laughed.
“Draco, what are you—”
“They took away my bedframe. I have no sheets.” He kept laughing.
—
Draco’s hair was matted. He’s been refusing to shower.
“Potter, what are you doing? You can't be here.”
“Draco—”
“He’ll be here any second. My Aunt, she called him—”
“We’re not at—”
“No! Harry, you have to get out. You have to win. Please. Go.”
“Okay, Draco. I’ll go.”
Harry hadn’t let her see him cry, until then.
—
“Harry.” Draco sat pressed right up against Harry, touching, if not for the magic weaved between them. “I’m not sure I can keep doing this.”
“I know.” Harry’s voice was small, kind. “I won’t ask you to.”
“In a different life, do you think—” Draco’s face crumpled. She had to look away.
Harry rubbed his eyes repeatedly. “Yes, love. In any life.”
—
He wasn’t a next-of-kin, nor a registered visitor, so he hadn't been notified.
He arrived as usual, glasses askew.
She hadn’t been trained for this.
“Mr. Potter.”
“Where is he? Have you moved him?”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry.”
His green eyes dulled as he collapsed onto the floor. She wondered then, as the hero’s sobs rent the air, who this place punished more.