Drabble 8 : Letter
Harry was inked up to the elbows and feeling rather put out. He read his messy script on the parchment in front of him, and then with a dejected sigh he crumpled the paper into a ball and threw it on the other side of the room. The small projectile made a soft 'thunk' noise as it made contact with the heaped pile of rejected parchment balls, and fell forlornly to the floor.
"Merlin... Why the hell am I doing this?" Harry moaned in exasperation, more to himself than anything. Their one-month anniversary was tonight, and Draco would be over his apartment by Floo any moment and Harry, of course, had decided to do the romantic Gryffindor thing and write him a love letter. Trouble was that Harry, never having received a love letter himself, had no idea how to go about writing something like this. It was inconceivable!
"Think Zen! Think Zen! Relax, focus, and write what you really feel!" squealed the miniature crystal Buddha paperweight on his desk, a Christmas gift from Hermione last year to help him with his lack of writing finesse with his Auror reports. Feeling decidedly more un-Zen than ever, Harry picked up the little glass globule of gut, and hurled it across the room into the waste-paper basket to join the rest of the trash. The indignant squeaks that followed only aggravated him more, but at least the little fat bastard wasn't mocking him anymore. Zen my arse...
"Harry?" came Draco's voice behind him, and Harry promptly fell off his chair in shock. 'FUCK!' he thought desperately. 'He's going to hex my privates off for not being able to write even a passable sentence, and we hadn't even done the dirty horizontal tango yet! Life hates me!'
Draco had been meaning to say something along the lines of 'why are your arms covered in ink?', but deemed it far more amusing to watch Harry's face go through its minor epileptic fits of silent panic. But once the initial shock of his (slightly) early arrival seemed to wear off, Harry sprang into action, seized a hold of his (rather abused) quill, and grabbed Draco's hand.
"I've never been good at writing letters." Harry mumbled, as he scrawled quickly on the palm of the blond's hand. "So this'll have to do instead."
He returned the aforementioned appendage to its owner, who looked at it with mild curiosity. A slow grin spread over Draco's face, before he took Harry's face between his hands and kissed him long and hard. The ink, still wet from the rushed writing, would leave a hastily-written mark on the other's face, and yet, later there wouldn't be any hurry to wash off the lightly-smudged and reciprocated "UOY EVOL I".