AUTHOR'S NOTE: 46 unconnected 100 word Harry/Draco drabbles written for hd100 over on LJ back in 2007. Please be warned that some of them are fairly dark.

A Fresh Start

Since the day that Potter had rejected his hand, Draco had hated him. Since that day, he'd also been plagued by daily thoughts of how he could have done things differently. He could have made Potter shake his hand. He was perfectly capable of casting Imperius. Potter couldn't stand strong against that forever.

But Draco didn't need cunning plans or illegal curses in the end. He only had to extend his hand once more.

"I'm Draco Malfoy."

Potter looked puzzled, as if unsure how to respond.

"And you're Harry Potter. You've been Obliviated. I'm going to take care of you."

A Missed Opportunity

There had been a moment where Harry could have chosen, for once in his life, not to satisfy his curiosity.

He imagined how Malfoy might have cracked under the pressure he'd complained of and deflected to their side. They might have fought together. Harry might have come to like Malfoy, given enough time. Harry's obsession with him might have taken an entirely different path.

They'd had no time at all.

Instead, Harry had watched with horror as Malfoy's blood had gushed onto the bathroom floor, and Snape had found Harry crying over a body that had long since gone cold.

Ambition

Draco Malfoy certainly had the ambition for which those of his house were known. He'd helped overthrow the Dark Lord instead of merely serving him, unlike many Slytherins. He'd replaced Dumbledore as Headmaster of Hogwarts only a decade after his actions had led to the old man's death. He'd become Minister of Magic by the time he was forty-five. And he'd won over Harry Potter, the most sought-after wizard in the world (apart from himself, of course).

When Harry had questioned Draco as to how he'd managed all that, Draco kissed him into silence. Some truths were better left untold.

Answers

Harry stumbled when his dark-cloaked entourage propelled him into his cell. His feet caught on upraised stone and he fell face-first onto the ground. The resulting scrapes, however, barely fazed him. He felt the blood blend into that which already painted the torn remains of his robes.

One Death Eater remained behind, waiting to make sure the rest were out of earshot.

"I'm sorry," Draco whispered.

Harry wished he could have hugged him.

"I didn't answer their questions," he said instead. "Your secret is safe."

"I love you."

Harry thought he heard crying as Draco left to join the others.

Ask

"Why are you always late home?"

"Why do you disappear on weekends?"

"Why won't you come to bed?"

Pansy had asked those questions hundreds of times. She'd had enough.

She decided to follow him.

"Do you love Potter more than you love me?" she asked the next time they were alone.

"Yes," Draco breathed after a moment of shock.

"Good. Then you'll stay away from him or I'll have him killed. You wouldn't want that, would you?"

Pansy was a Slytherin, more so even than Draco. She always got what she wanted.

She didn't have to ask those questions again.

Bare

The first time Harry had seen Draco naked, he'd averted his eyes. He deserved some privacy. The wounds necessitating his nakedness had been earned for Harry's cause, after all.

Harry had seen him naked many times since then, and he'd eventually stopped looking away.

When Draco first saw Harry naked, it had been after he'd already divested his own clothes. When exhaustion caused him to drift off afterwards, Harry was already snoring beside him.

But when Harry said, "I love you," and Draco returned it, both knew that that was the first time they'd really seen the other totally bare.

Black

The black sky above them, magically reflected through the Draco's ceiling, cast shadows across both him and Potter. Potter seemed to blend into them, with his dark hair and black robes. As Draco fell back onto his pitch sheets, his own robes already half off, he decided that although black was his favourite colour, he felt almost as if he was drowning in it.

Typically, though, nothing remained dark with Potter around. Pale skin soon contrasted starkly against the black as Potter thrust into him.

Draco thought he didn't mind drowning as long as Potter was there to save him.

Blood

Blood had always been something Draco took pride in. His father had constantly reminded him how pure the blood of a Malfoy was compared to the blood traitors and mudbloods.

Draco had always thought his blood made him somehow different.

However, when he fell on the battlefield and his blood spurted, it shone the same dark red as that of the others who lay dead.

He was no better than them.

He wondered, then, why Harry Potter chose him in particular to save. And what made him special enough for Potter to kiss him and beg him to stay awake.

Chocolate

After facing what must have been hundreds of Dementors and forcing Patronus after Patronus out of his wand, he was completely exhausted. All Harry wanted was some chocolate.

When he went looking for sustenance, however, all he found was a wide-eyed Draco.

"We nearly died," he mumbled.

"Yeah," said Harry, "nearly. We got through it, though."

A moment later Harry found himself being clutched to Draco as if the other man was making sure they actually were still there. Then Draco thrust his hips against Harry's with a whimper.

Perhaps there was something he wanted more than chocolate, after all.

Coffee

They were out of coffee, and so Draco plaintively refused to get up. This wouldn't be a problem except that Harry was trapped underneath Draco.

"If you let me up, I'll Floo to the store and grab you some coffee," Harry bargained.

Draco didn't move.

Harry sighed.

He grabbed Draco's hips and ground his own into them, causing Draco to cry out. Harry thrust upwards a few times, and then Draco allowed himself to be rolled over.

"Oi!" Draco protested as Harry sprung out of bed.

Harry smirked down at him. "I thought you approved of dirty tactics."

Draco groaned.

Competition

"What's wrong, Malfoy, not up for a little friendly competition?"

"You wish, Potter," Draco sniped back at him, grabbing his broom from where it was leaning against the door.

Harry grinned and took off out into the field behind their house, Draco trailing mere feet behind him.

They didn't ever actually get into the air, though. Harry was tackled from behind before he could kick off.

"How about a different kind of competition?" Draco offered with a husky voice.

Harry raised his eyebrows.

"I bet I can keep from coming for longer than you."

Harry didn't feel like flying, anyway.

Costumes

"I look stupid."

Harry rolled his eyes. "It's Halloween; everyone looks stupid."

Draco snorted disbelievingly. "If you can't change my hair colour back..."

"Don't worry, I'll manage."

Draco sighed and emerged into the living room. Harry covered his mouth to hold in the laughter.

"Shut up," Draco grumbled.

"No, it really suits you," Harry laughed.

Harry had to stop Draco from rubbing his hand against the scar painted on to his forehead.

"This way people will think I'm dressed up too, remember? Plus, imagine how kinky it'll be when we come back here alone tonight."

Draco suddenly looked happier.

Crossover

"What the hell is going on out there?" Draco asked.

"A war," Harry explained patiently. "That's what they're actually like. You know, with massive numbers dying, rather than just a few people?"

"And why are those little people trying to destroy jewellery?"

"Same reason we had to get rid of the locket; it'll kill their Dark Lord. Except their Dark Lord is actually evil, as opposed to just power-crazy, and his 'jewellery' is much harder to destroy."

"And why are we here again?"

Harry shrugged. "Dunno. But all these sweaty men and elves are making me horny. Want to shag?"

Flying

Harry had always loved flying. Even when he was being chased by a dragon in fourth year, it had still been more thrilling than terrifying. Harry supposed it had something to do with the fact that he always felt in control on a broomstick. Everything else in his life seemed to slip beyond his grip these days.

He certainly didn't feel in control now.

"Draco!" Harry shouted against the rushing wind. "Could we possibly land now? I've had enough!"

The dragon underneath him simply huffed, a puff of smoke drifting up into Harry's face, and took him into a dive.

Food

"Potter," Draco began, his voice shocked, "where on earth does all that food go? You keep shovelling it into your mouth like you haven't eaten in months, and yet you're thinner than my broomstick! And don't tell me it's making you taller."

Harry snorted. If only.

"I haven't eaten in days, actually," Harry returned nonchalantly. "I don't normally eat this much, you know."

Draco looked like he didn't know whether to believe him at first. Then his expression went dark.

"Right," he said, "I know you're against Muggle-torturing in general, but you could make an exception for your relatives, right?"

Forever

When Draco had promised Pansy forever, he'd been too young to know what that meant. It hadn't lasted even two years.

When Draco had promised the Dark Lord forever, he'd thought he could escape it. He'd thought that once he'd done the man's bidding and his father had been freed, they could run away as a family. Lucius was still in Azkaban.

When Draco had promised Harry forever, they'd both known he didn't have forever to give. The Dark Lord had caught up to him. But they still held each other as if they could stay that way for eternity.

Frozen

Harry had searched everywhere for wood to light a fire before the chill of being out in the drafty hallways of the castle reached too deep for him to continue.

He'd returned to find Draco huddled up in a corner.

"I found some wood," Harry lied. "I'll have to go back for it once I've had some sleep, is all."

Draco didn't respond except for an almost half-hearted shiver. Harry fell down at his side and embraced him.

"We'll be all right, you'll see."

And perhaps they would have been, had their magic not died off along with everything else.

Ghosts
Harry hadn't meant to hurt Malfoy. That spell in the second-hand Potions book had clearly said 'for enemies', sure, but it was a school book. Harry hadn't expected anything this vicious.

He thought that his father probably hadn't meant to hurt that boy in his own sixth year either. Perhaps Potters were destined to kill without meaning to.

Now Severus Snape and Draco Malfoy both haunted him in his room at Saint Mungo's, a constant reminder of his past.

Harry wished they'd sent him to Azkaban instead. At least only the ghosts in his head would have followed him there.

Green

Harry had always liked the colour green. The plants were green in spring, when the cold no longer kept Harry awake at night in his drafty cupboard. His eyes – the only thing he had inherited from his mother, apart from maybe his temper – were green as well.

When he'd gotten to Hogwarts, though, he'd started associating green with Slytherins, and Draco Malfoy specifically. Harry's liking for the colour dwindled.

But then, when he returned home one day to find Draco Malfoy with green Slytherin ties around his wrists as his only covering, Harry decided his fondness might have been renewed.

Heat

Even at his lowest point, there's always a kind of red-hot heat in Potter's eyes that seemed to signal that all is right with him. He's still full of life and defiance, just as I've come to expect of him. I even rely on that heat to some extent; the spark in his eyes makes for a nice substitute when all I feel is cold nothingness.

That seems to be a frequent occurrence, of late.

But then that heat is gone and the Dark Lord triumphs over breaking his little pet. And I'm left all alone with the cold.

Him

I disliked the Dursleys and what they put me through, but I didn't hate them. I didn't know enough to hate them. And I certainly never had anyone to love me and show me the same in return.

But then, when I entered the wizard, there was him.

I didn't hate him precisely, not at first. That built over time. But by the time it escalated above a school-boy level of bitterness and rivalry, it was already morphing into something else.

Draco wasn't the only person I'd ever hated, but he was the first. And he was the only person I ever really loved.

Ice

Draco had often had dreams of a disembodied head throwing a mixture of snow and mud at him since he was thirteen years old. It wasn't that Potter had scared him, precisely, but rather that he'd worried that he'd suddenly gone mad. Draco feared nothing more than that.

His dreams turned to visions of Potter throwing off his Invisibility Cloak – which Draco had learned about later – only to reveal that he was naked underneath. He rubbed a piece of ice against his nipple while his other hand slid up and down his cock.

Draco was certain that madness had arrived.

Indecisive

From the moment that Dumbledore had offered him a way out, Draco had finally been able to admit to himself that he wasn't sure he wanted to follow in his father's footsteps. After all, his father had landed himself in Azkaban.

But nor was he really sure that he wanted to be on Dumbledore's side. Dumbledore had been killed for his cause. Draco thought he might prefer a short stint in Azkaban to the finality of death.

But when Potter finally (finally!) gave in and held out his hand for Draco to either accept or reject, Draco's indecision fell away.

Infinity

"I was never allowed to look at the stars when I was younger," Draco admitted.

"Why not?" Harry asked, raising his head from the ground to glance over at Draco.

"Father liked things that he could control. All those stars... I think they reminded him of how small he was, all in all. He might have been a well-respected pureblood wizard, but the universe is infinite. Kind of puts things into perspective."

Harry reached over and clutched Draco's hand. "You don't always have to be in control."

"I know," Draco murmured. "Watching Father destroy himself taught me that much."

Innocent

Malfoy and Snape were discovered with a Horcrux in their possession. No one believed their story that they were helping the Order rather than Voldemort. They were scheduled for the Dementor's Kiss only a few days later, until Harry Potter stepped in.

"He's done nothing wrong," he said almost grudgingly. "Malfoy's innocent."

When Malfoy was released into Harry's custody, Malfoy kissed him impulsively.

"What was that?" Harry asked, shocked.

"Thank you," Malfoy replied. "You saved my life."

Harry shook his head and said, "You saved yourself."

When Snape later received the Dementor's Kiss, Harry let Draco cry on his shoulder.

Jealousy

"What am I supposed to think? You've been spending all your time with Snape, and we haven't had sex in a month!"

"Right, just tell the whole place."

"You don't care what they think, Malfoy."

"No, but I do care that you think I'm getting off with Snape, of all people."

"Oh, are there other people I should suspect?"

"While your insane jealousy boosts my ego nicely –"

"As if you need it."

"– it's getting in the way of us actually having sex."

"Oh... so we're Apparating home?"

"Yes Potter. I'm not doing you in the bathroom of a Muggle bar."

Kiss

"Kiss my arse, Potter."

Harry could have ignored Malfoy, or returned the childish jibe. He could have shot back a smart remark, or perhaps just tackled Malfoy to the ground. They were hardly strangers to such reactions. They'd come to expect as much from each other.

He wasn't sure, though, what possessed him to respond instead in a completely unexpected way.

"If you like," Harry returned. "But only if you bring it over here."

Clearly that had not been what Malfoy had expected, either. But Harry was certain he hadn't imagined that look of curiosity that crossed his rival's face.

Lies

"Were you ever a loyal Death Eater?"

"Definitely not. Who would want to serve that... thing?"

"Did you kill Ron?"

"No. I could never kill."

"Would you ever hurt me?"

"You know I wouldn't."

"Do you love me?"

"Of course."

"Do you ever lie to me?"

"Every day."

"Huh?"

"Obliviate," Draco muttered.

Harry's eyes glazed over, the confused look melting off his face.

"Sorry," Draco said with a slight shrug, as if Harry could be expected to understand him in the moments after having his memory wiped. "Lying all the time is such hard work. I wanted a break."

Lost

It had been years since Quidditch had meant anything at all to Draco. He pretended otherwise for the sake of his house back at school. He'd continued to pretend otherwise after graduation more for Harry's sake than anything.

Harry loved Quidditch. Draco didn't. It wasn't exactly surprising that Draco tended to lose when they played.

"I bet we can come up with some sort of compensation," Harry whispered, pushing Draco down onto their bed. "Since you were such a good sport about losing and all."

Well, perhaps Draco's pretending was just a little bit for his own sake as well.

Love

"I love you," Draco insisted.

Harry kept on walking.

"Potter, did you hear me? I love you! How can you just pretend that that's nothing?"

Harry paused momentarily, but didn't turn around.

"You just answered your own question Malfoy," he said. "When it comes to your life, it's all about you. You're not capable of loving anyone but yourself. It's just my 'good luck' that you love yourself more when I'm devotedly hanging off your arm."

Draco expected Harry to return. But weeks passed without any sign of him.

"Fuck you, Potter," Draco murmured unsteadily. "You didn't love me either."

Loyalty

It was never a secret that Draco had been a true Slytherin. It had been speculated that he was practically a Death Eater already, and though he'd never bared his Dark Mark, Draco didn't discourage the rumours. He was outwardly loyal to the name of Malfoy, and therefore the Dark Lord's cause.

It had even been widely broadcasted when he'd declared himself loyal to Harry Potter and his groupies.

But though Draco might invest himself in particular causes, his loyalty actually meant very little. The only thing he'd never betray was himself. That was never much of a secret, either.

Morning

Draco always woke up disoriented. That was one of the reasons, among the many possibilities he had to choose from, that he hated mornings.

Draco also hated having to explain why his latest conquest couldn't stay in his bed just that little bit longer until breakfast rolled around.

Draco detested having to look at Pansy's taunting face each and every morning as a different girl stumbled into the common room in tears.

Mostly, though, Draco despised mornings because they all too often caught him lying in bed with Harry Potter, their limbs tangled together with an easy sort of grace.

Opposite

Most people thought that Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter were complete opposites. Malfoy was Slytherin through and through, while Potter stood for all things Gryffindor. Malfoy would serve the Dark Lord, while Potter would most certainly fight against him.

Draco, though, had always known that he and Potter were similar. Had they not been on opposite sides, they might have become friends. Or perhaps more.

So when Potter eventually killed the Dark Lord and took his place as head of the Death Eaters, Draco wasn't exactly shocked to receive an invitation to join Potter in his bedroom late one night.

Performance

"And I've been having a little trouble, er, performing, since then."

Harry figured he might as well dive right into it. It was embarrassing enough without drawing it out unnecessarily.

"And you never had this problem before?"

Harry shook his head. Of course he hadn't. Ginny had always been enough. He'd never had anything with which to compare having sex with her.

"I suggest, then, that you attempt to relive whatever this 'intervening event' was and we'll go from there."

Harry groaned. Sure, he'd just go and ask Malfoy for another roll in the hay. No problem.

He was screwed.

Poison

Ever since his sixth year, Harry had taken to carrying a bezoar with him at all times. Some would call it paranoid, he knew, but they probably didn't have an evil madman and his followers baying for their blood.

This time it wasn't just him they were after. The entire Hogwarts staff had been dosed with poison.

His argument with Malfoy ceased suddenly when they found that neither of them could breathe.

Harry couldn't move, though not because of the poison. He was frozen by the thought of the single bezoar waiting in his pocket.

It couldn't save them both.

Promises

"I promise, once I've had time to contact the Order, I'll come back for you."

When Draco had uttered that promise, his voice had been filled with obvious conviction despite the need to whisper to keep the others from overhearing.

But when Draco stood silently by as Harry Potter was yanked from his cell and led upstairs so that all of the Death Eaters could witness what was undoubtedly to come, Draco wondered whether he'd ever really believed those empty words.

He knew that Potter hadn't. That only made the look of forgiveness on his face all the more unbearable.

Rain

Harry had expected the rain to wash the blood off his skin. His hands, though, were still thickly coated in it, and blackish-red globs clung stubbornly to his robes.

He realised that the rain was actually making it worse, for it was raining blood. Voldemort's blood. He tilted his head back and laughed.

"And that was how you found him?" the Healer asked.

Draco nodded tiredly. "He just kept muttering about blood, all over him. There wasn't a single drop!"

The look the Healer gave Harry's unconscious figure wasn't promising. Draco clutched his lover's hand and tried not to cry.

Road trip

"Why are we doing this, Potter?"

"It's the American experience, apparently."

"Spending all day travelling in the heat and sleeping on a lumpy bed at night, then doing it again the next day?"

"It's all about the journey."

"The journey would take less than a second if you would just agree to Apparate. Or Floo. Or Portkey. We're wizards – or had you forgotten?"

"Of course not. I'm flying a broomstick, in case you hadn't noticed."

"Speaking of which, 'road trip' rather suggests travelling on a road."

"But then you'd have less to complain about. I know how you'd hate that."

Struggle

"Good Lord, Potter, would you hurry up?"

"You're really not helping."

"Well, concentrate harder or something. My arm is getting sore."

"Well maybe if you'd use something other than your hand –"

Draco sneered. "You're kidding, right? That cock's been near Weasleys. I'm not putting my mouth on it." Draco let go of Harry. "Can't you go without?"

Harry's glare was answer enough.

Draco rolled his eyes and tossed something from his pocket at Harry.

"A Muggle condom?"

"I told you, I'm not putting anything contaminated by Weasleys straight into my mouth. Now do you want a blowjob or not?"

Tear

"… rip … tear … kill …"

Draco had only a vague memory of hearing those words being hissed. In fact, Draco could barely remember anything that had happened in the last few hours.

Still, he knew he hadn't imagined hearing that voice. And he was certain that it couldn't have meant anything good.

When Draco had eventually come across the body of Harry Potter – fellow Slytherin, his best friend – he'd fallen to his knees and shouted for help. Even when the others had arrived, though, Draco had still felt so very alone.

Talking to Tom helped, though. Tom understood.

The Letter 'G'

Of all the letters in the alphabet, Draco disliked 'g' the most. It reminded him of everything he hated.

Gryffindor.

Girls.

Ginny Weasley.

The Weasley girl was probably at the top of that list, though. Draco didn't have a clue what Harry Potter saw in the little bint.

Draco's favourite letter of the alphabet, coincidently, was 'h'. Though it sat right beside 'g', Draco was entirely certain they didn't belong together. He wished he could rewrite the alphabet. The letter 'h' would be much better off in a different location. Right beside 'd', for example.

Draco's brain confused even him.

Wall

Severus Snape had leaned against it as his heart had surrendered under the effects of the Dark Lord's love of the Cruciatus Curse.

Harry Potter had used the wards sewn into it to make himself invisible during a Death Eater raid.

Draco Malfoy had pinned the Chosen One against that flat surface and ravaged him with touch and tongue.

Lord Voldemort's body had been thrown against it due to the pure strength of Harry's Killing Curse.

The outer wall of Hogwarts castle had seen a lot of action. And that was only since the school had shut two years before.

Weakness

Sex had always been Draco's weakness. He wanted control over every situation, but somehow he tended to lose his edge when his cock got involved.

"I could kill you right now," Potter hissed, his wand pressed against Draco's throat. Draco's returned the favour by pressing his uncovered erection into Potter's abdomen.

"Shut up and do me, Potter," he breathed.

"You're pathetic."

"And you're just as pathetically horny as I am. Now drop your wand and your trousers."

Potter was on him in seconds.

Draco forgot all about weakness. Potter's body up against him made him feel so strong, after all.

Whisper

Harry had heard whispers at the start of his fifth year that Malfoy had taken the Dark Mark. Harry hadn't really believed them then, any more than he'd believed the rumour that Malfoy was hung like a centaur.

By the middle of his sixth year, though, he was wondering why everyone else seemed to so easily dismiss the gossip.

After the Dark Lord had died, when Malfoy's Dark Mark was talked rather than whispered about, Harry wished no one had ever begun those rumours. They were going to get Malfoy killed, or perhaps Kissed.

Harry realised he didn't want that.

Winter

Draco hated winter as a child. He could never get warm. He wasn't allowed to perform magic, and his parents often forgot about – or perhaps ignored – his comfort. It was as if they were implying that feeling anything, even the obviously biting cold, was weak. Draco never complained aloud.

After Harry died bare moments after he'd freed the wizarding world from the Dark Lord's oppressive regime, every day of the year felt like winter. Draco frequently found himself shivering and grasping for a warmth that wasn't there.

But even then he didn't voice his feelings. It was unbefitting a Malfoy.

Wool

"Woollen socks. Woollen jumpers. Even the robes."

Draco sighed. "Potter, I know you're a fashion disaster, and that you vowed to seamlessly fill Dumbledore's shoes when you first became Headmaster, but this is too much. Do you have anything that isn't made of wool in this cupboard? What do you do during summer?"

"Well, I tend to not wear much of anything, honestly. It's not like there's anyone about to see me."

Draco was actually a little aroused by the thought. He figured he might as well act upon that.

"Come here, Potter. I'll introduce you to my silk ties."