I finished my advent fic (???) so I am here to announce that my asks are open (?!?) and you can submit one-word drabble requests if you want or questions (????)

Potter appears at half-twelve in his Auror robes. Draco had planned to forcibly not look at him, but he can’t help it.

Because Potter looks at the biscuits first. He gazes at them, seeming utterly lovesick, and actually startles when he sees the note.

He blinks hard and shakes his head. Opens his mouth. Shuts it again.

And then—yes, yes!—he stalks to the door of the shop, his crimson robes billowing dramatically behind him. He throws the door open and strides inside. Potter puts his hand out, and Draco’s parchment wings across the air and lands in Potter’s palm.

“It’s bloody treacle tart flavoured, you tosser?” Potter reads in a disbelieving tone, then lifts his eyes to meet Draco’s. “Is this for me?”

“Who else would it be for?” Draco coughs loudly. “I mean. Hello. What could I get for you? A biscuit?”

Potter stares at him, then takes a tentative step forwards. He’s in a dark green jumper this time, also with a large white H on the front. “What is this?”

“A bakery.”

“I know that. But you—”

“Frankly, I can’t see how it’s any of your business.”

“What?”

“Have a bloody biscuit, Potter. You’ve been mooning over them for days!”

“I have not,” Potter snaps.

“You have so. It’s a window, not a brick wall. Or has your eyesight got worse since school?”

Potter glares, his eyes black behind his glasses. “Sod off, Malfoy,” he says, then completely undermines himself by sodding off on his own.

Read Sweet to Your Taste on AO3

A birthday fic for @itsphantasmagoria, an illustrious and incredible artist and MY FRIEND! Featuring Draco as a baker and Harry longing for sweets <3

“You are lovely,” Draco says into Harry’s mouth. “Do you know what? We should get married.”

“I was thinking the same thing!” Harry takes Draco’s face in his hands and kisses him one more time. “How about this weekend?”

“How about we do it in the Cotswolds?”

“How about…at a weird manor house with a bunch of cottages to let?”

“Yes.” Draco nods solemnly. “I think that would be perfect.”

Harry’s heart leaps, fluttering about like a bird. “Me, too.”

Draco takes his hand, kisses all Harry’s knuckles, then twines their fingers together and squeezes. “Come, darling. It’s time to see how the world looks on our wedding day.”

Read Chapter Twenty-Six of Clear, Warm Light here

Start at the beginning here

“That,” Harry says, “is the hardest I’ve ever come on Christmas morning.”

“Really? Have you kept track?”

“I—” Harry laughs. “No. I guess not. And, like…I’ve never shagged on Christmas morning, really. Just wanked. Or was that Christmas Eve? I dunno.”

“Just wait until next year. I’ll outdo myself.”

“Do you promise?”

“I swear.”

They’re teasing. Joking. Laughing. But something about wait until next year settles a part of Harry he hadn’t known needed settling.

“Next year,” he says softly. “Because we’ll be together.”

Draco kisses his cheek. “Yes, we will.”

“Will we be married by then?”

“Merlin, I hope so.”

“Will we be…” Harry’s chest clenches, just a little. “Will we be here, or will we be…somewhere else?”

“We’ll be wherever you want to be.”

“I want to be with you.”

Read Chapter Twenty-Five of Clear, Warm Light here

Start at the beginning here

“Okay,” Harry says to the branches across the twinkling stars. “I’m worried. What if something terrible has happened? What if Draco’s, like, fallen into a deep hole and can’t get out? I’ll never see him again!”

Harry slams the door and paces away. “It’s fine,” he says to Draco’s nearest stack of books. “If he fell in a hole, he could definitely get himself out. He’s a wizard.”

The words are barely out of his mouth when he turns on his heel and sprints back to the door, throwing it open once more.

Draco isn’t in the garden. Draco isn’t on the path.

“What if Draco’s lost in the woods?” Harry says. An owl hoots nearby like it’s agreeing with him. “Oh, fucking sodding hell. What if Draco is cold and wet and hungry? What if he’s being chased by, like, a werewolf, and it’s got an arseload of sharp teeth, and it’s eating him right now? We’ll never have Christmas together!”

The owl hoots again.

“I am not settling for that!” Harry shouts at the owl. “Never having Christmas together? After everything? I won’t have it! Fuck off!”

The owl flies away.

“I didn’t mean you!” Harry howls into the night. “Merlin, fine! I don’t care! I’m going to find him!”

Harry slams the door a second time and sprints through the house in a mad rush, finding absolutely nothing to help him.

“I’m a bloody wizard!” he shouts to the horrible empty cottage. Harry Summons one of his vests and Transfigures it into a rope. “If I lose all my memories and my magic while I’m looking, I’ll pull Draco out of the hole the Muggle way.”

Read Chapter Twenty-Four of Clear, Warm Light here

Start from the beginning here

or: how did my drarries spend the holidays? my wife @its-the-allure tagged me so I’m going to do my BEST

Now I Know In Part: Harry can’t see (again) because he got so worked up about whether his twin children would be disappointed. They sound so happy

Bike Dream: Ron and Draco will not see reason when it comes to holiday parties—their cafe/house in Hogsmeade is full well past capacity. Ron is dancing on the sitting room table wearing only a Santa hat and tight green pants, Draco keeps rating the dancing (100/10 every time) and Harry’s face hurts from smiling so hard

A Line-storm Song: Everything is the same in the morning—they get up at the same time, eat the same breakfast, and fly on their brooms for an hour. No gifts until the afternoon. Draco looks away when Harry opens his, but sits close. They go to the Burrow when it’s already dark and people are gentler

Sweet to Your Taste: Draco made icing by December moonlight, which is holiday-flavoured. Harry is stoned at FriendsChristmas and won’t stop licking it off Draco’s fingers. This will escalate

See Me and Live: The Manor is really the only place big enough to fit the madhouse of Draco and Harry’s family and friends. Draco has no idea how the dance fever begins, and once it does, he can’t hear a thing. Harry shouts something Draco has no hope of understanding, so he shouts it again. The third time is a charm–the music goes quiet just as Harry bellows Draco, I’m bloody pregnant again!

I don’t know who to tag and am agnostic about myself and friendship LOL