Purposeful Strides
Title: Purposeful Strides
Author: enchanted_jae
Characters: Harry/Draco
Rating: PG
Warning(s): Flangst
Word count: 300
Disclaimer: Characters are the property of JK Rowling, et al. This drabble was written for fun, not for profit.
Author's note: Written as a gift for adorkablefae, in thanks for providing the beta on a fic for me. The prompt was fret.
Summary: Malfoys neither pace nor worry.
Draco was pacing. No, Malfoys did not pace. He was striding purposefully from one end of the room to the other. He had to keep busy while waiting for Harry to return.
It wasn't that Draco was worried about the git, mind--he simply enjoyed the exercise. Of course, Harry should have been home well over two hours ago, but it was just like him to sneak off for a pint with Weasley after a particularly harrowing mission. Draco nodded. Yes, that was what was keeping Harry. His inconsiderate lout of a...whatever he was, was most likely knocking back a few pints at some grubby pub with his fellow Aurors.
As Draco strode purposefully back and forth, his ire increased. Harry was late for dinner, damn it, and he knew how Draco felt about punctuality. How dare his...whatever he was, drink in a pub with his mates while Draco was left at home to cool his heels? Dinner was also growing cold, sod it all!
Draco hated it when Harry went out on these dangerous assignments. The longer he had to wait for Harry the more he...fumed. Yes, that was it. Draco was fuming because his...whatever Harry was to him, was running late after a perilous mission, and he was delaying dinner.
The Floo flared up, and Harry tripped out. His face was bruised, and his torn Auror robes revealed a bloodied arm. Draco opened his mouth to tear a strip off of Harry for being late, but all that emerged was a choked sound of relief. "Harry!" Draco cried, flinging himself into his boyfriend's arms where he clung and trembled.
"Shh," soothed Harry, stroking Draco's hair. "Don't fret, love. I'm home."
Author: enchanted_jae
Characters: Harry/Draco
Rating: PG
Warning(s): Flangst
Word count: 300
Disclaimer: Characters are the property of JK Rowling, et al. This drabble was written for fun, not for profit.
Author's note: Written as a gift for adorkablefae, in thanks for providing the beta on a fic for me. The prompt was fret.
Summary: Malfoys neither pace nor worry.
Draco was pacing. No, Malfoys did not pace. He was striding purposefully from one end of the room to the other. He had to keep busy while waiting for Harry to return.
It wasn't that Draco was worried about the git, mind--he simply enjoyed the exercise. Of course, Harry should have been home well over two hours ago, but it was just like him to sneak off for a pint with Weasley after a particularly harrowing mission. Draco nodded. Yes, that was what was keeping Harry. His inconsiderate lout of a...whatever he was, was most likely knocking back a few pints at some grubby pub with his fellow Aurors.
As Draco strode purposefully back and forth, his ire increased. Harry was late for dinner, damn it, and he knew how Draco felt about punctuality. How dare his...whatever he was, drink in a pub with his mates while Draco was left at home to cool his heels? Dinner was also growing cold, sod it all!
Draco hated it when Harry went out on these dangerous assignments. The longer he had to wait for Harry the more he...fumed. Yes, that was it. Draco was fuming because his...whatever Harry was to him, was running late after a perilous mission, and he was delaying dinner.
The Floo flared up, and Harry tripped out. His face was bruised, and his torn Auror robes revealed a bloodied arm. Draco opened his mouth to tear a strip off of Harry for being late, but all that emerged was a choked sound of relief. "Harry!" Draco cried, flinging himself into his boyfriend's arms where he clung and trembled.
"Shh," soothed Harry, stroking Draco's hair. "Don't fret, love. I'm home."