Title: Fall, Winter, Summer
Author: rhoddlet
Rating: PG-13 for profanity
Archive at HSPA: No
Relationships: Harry Potter x Draco Malfoy.
Spoilers: Nope, nope, and nope.
Summary: Fall, winter, and summer, but you're a fool to think hope love eternal.
Author's notes at the conclusion of this piece.
Feedback. rhoddlet@hotmail.com
Inspired by Ali. Asking me who followed who to Greece, indeed. *Encouraging* me to think about them some more.
*
I
It's late fall, and the trees are dry and bare and hold the stars in their branches except for the Quidditch field. There, Harry's flying with nothing but stars above him, and since there's frost on the ground and the moon is out, stars below him.
Stars above, stars below, and he pulls out of a particularly tough little barrel roll, sweating into the cold September air, wondering what he's going to do if his replacement Nimbus doesn't come before the match against Ravenclaw next week. He's just *fucked*, he knows, flying on these Shooting Stars; he's just gotten too used to superior Nimbus handling, but if Ron made the team last year riding one of these, he'll be damned. . .
Harry looks down and starts when he finds someone on the corner of the Quidditch field with a Cloak of Darkness pulled down around his shoulders, watching him with hair like starlight and eyes the color of the harvest moon.
II
Draco knows, logically, that his room has a bed and a desk and a chest with some personal items, but he's damned if he can make any more sense out of this blue and white world. The white part's where the moon is; the blue part is where it isn't, and it's been raining and the window is open, which is why the curtains are moving and why Potter's unwinding himself from underneath the windowsill.
Fucker must have come in through the window.
Potter comes closer. Hair's slicked to his skull from the rain, and there're little droplets of rain caught in the fuzz on Potter's cheeks, on his lips, in his eyelashes.
"What the fuck are you doing in my room?"
All of a sudden, Draco staggers, has to grab one of the posts on the canopy bed, except it's not there, and he's fallen into Harry's arms.
"You drank too much," Harry says.
"Do you care?" Draco says, and leans forward and kisses him so he can taste the honey and madness on his lips.
III
Middle of June, now. The top and sides of the boat are hotter than the bottom; water from the Mediterranean washes in from holes in the planks, underneath Harry's sides. They're not sinking -- it's just that no wooden boat in the world is completely waterproof.
"I'm going to buy a better boat next summer," he says to Malfoy.
"If you even live until then."
Malfoy yawns, turns over onto his other side and goes back to sleeping, never opening his eyes.
*
end
*
I'm sorry, Mommy. I'll promise I'll never write an allegory again. Especially not one with a pun as bad as this as the summary.
The "raindrops in the eyelashes" is an evolution of Cassie's "snowflakes in the eyelashes" of Hermione in Draco Veritas. Hermi gets snow; Harry melts that damned snow, and Draco will kiss away the tears for him.
Or not.
I've also broached tradition by giving Draco brownish-red eyes instead of the usual grey eyes. And, no, I don't *really* care that you can't see colors at night -- we'll pretend that Draco has owl eyes, ne?
Author: rhoddlet
Rating: PG-13 for profanity
Archive at HSPA: No
Relationships: Harry Potter x Draco Malfoy.
Spoilers: Nope, nope, and nope.
Summary: Fall, winter, and summer, but you're a fool to think hope love eternal.
Author's notes at the conclusion of this piece.
Feedback. rhoddlet@hotmail.com
Inspired by Ali. Asking me who followed who to Greece, indeed. *Encouraging* me to think about them some more.
*
I
It's late fall, and the trees are dry and bare and hold the stars in their branches except for the Quidditch field. There, Harry's flying with nothing but stars above him, and since there's frost on the ground and the moon is out, stars below him.
Stars above, stars below, and he pulls out of a particularly tough little barrel roll, sweating into the cold September air, wondering what he's going to do if his replacement Nimbus doesn't come before the match against Ravenclaw next week. He's just *fucked*, he knows, flying on these Shooting Stars; he's just gotten too used to superior Nimbus handling, but if Ron made the team last year riding one of these, he'll be damned. . .
Harry looks down and starts when he finds someone on the corner of the Quidditch field with a Cloak of Darkness pulled down around his shoulders, watching him with hair like starlight and eyes the color of the harvest moon.
II
Draco knows, logically, that his room has a bed and a desk and a chest with some personal items, but he's damned if he can make any more sense out of this blue and white world. The white part's where the moon is; the blue part is where it isn't, and it's been raining and the window is open, which is why the curtains are moving and why Potter's unwinding himself from underneath the windowsill.
Fucker must have come in through the window.
Potter comes closer. Hair's slicked to his skull from the rain, and there're little droplets of rain caught in the fuzz on Potter's cheeks, on his lips, in his eyelashes.
"What the fuck are you doing in my room?"
All of a sudden, Draco staggers, has to grab one of the posts on the canopy bed, except it's not there, and he's fallen into Harry's arms.
"You drank too much," Harry says.
"Do you care?" Draco says, and leans forward and kisses him so he can taste the honey and madness on his lips.
III
Middle of June, now. The top and sides of the boat are hotter than the bottom; water from the Mediterranean washes in from holes in the planks, underneath Harry's sides. They're not sinking -- it's just that no wooden boat in the world is completely waterproof.
"I'm going to buy a better boat next summer," he says to Malfoy.
"If you even live until then."
Malfoy yawns, turns over onto his other side and goes back to sleeping, never opening his eyes.
*
end
*
I'm sorry, Mommy. I'll promise I'll never write an allegory again. Especially not one with a pun as bad as this as the summary.
The "raindrops in the eyelashes" is an evolution of Cassie's "snowflakes in the eyelashes" of Hermione in Draco Veritas. Hermi gets snow; Harry melts that damned snow, and Draco will kiss away the tears for him.
Or not.
I've also broached tradition by giving Draco brownish-red eyes instead of the usual grey eyes. And, no, I don't *really* care that you can't see colors at night -- we'll pretend that Draco has owl eyes, ne?