"Dragon Rose" cookie & writing_game
Please join me at writing_game's trial run. ♥
Here, let me bribe you with a "Dragon Rose" cookie :-P
P.S. Happy Hina Matsuri :-)
For those playing catch up:
"Dragon Dreams"
"Interlude"
Also, other cookies: "Dragon Soars" and accompaniment ("Dragon Rose" cookie) and "Draco Malfoy: The Wizard Behind the Legend" ("Dragon Flies" cookie).
"Dragon Rose" cookie
Rating: PG-13 for now
The work will be based on: "Beauty and the Beast," "Cupid and Psyche," "The Young Slave," and maybe "Bluebeard" and "Rapunzel."
Pairing: Harry/Draco, implied Draco/Morpheus, Theodore/Pansy
Expected Length: 5,000 to 8,000 words
Warning: Some nekkidness.
A/N: I'm sorry it's shortish D: And omgsosappy >_< and woe-is-me angsty, haha. "Dragon Flies" will be plenty dark to justify the angstiness of "Dragon Rose" >_>
Disclaimer: The cookie below isn't beta-ed yet. Most likely this will be the opening scene for "Dragon Rose."
“Master Malfoy!”
Head bowed and hair dripping, Draco stood under the shower in the middle of his own blood.
“Oh, Master Malfoy is injured, Kreacher must find help,” the gnarled house-elf pulled at his ears distractedly.
“No.” Draco said in a low voice. Wiping the blood from his face, he turned toward the house-elf.
“Kreacher. You must not tell anyone about this, understand?”
“I said-do you understand me?”
Nodding his head up and down, the distressed house-elf replied, “Oh Kreacher understands, yes Kreacher understands. Anything for the pureblood son of Mistress Narcissa.”
Ignoring the house-elf’s mutterings, Draco turned and lifted his face in the shower. The cold water felt like tiny shards of ice on his skin-mingling and washing away the blood on his neck and chest.
After he fainted in the bathtub two weeks ago, Harry had insisted that he be supervised even in the bathroom. He pointed out that his life was in no danger since anti-drowning charms are standard in any Wizarding bathroom, but Harry wouldn’t hear any of it.
Thankfully, Sirius had given Kreacher to Draco as an ‘engagement gift.’ Knowing Sirius’ hatred of the house-elf, he was probably glad to be rid of it. Like his godfather, Harry disliked Kreacher immensely, but Draco preferred the Blacks’ house-elf vastly over Dobby.
At first, Harry had wanted to assign Dobby to the task, but Draco had put his foot down. Dobby’s first loyalty is to “Mister Harry Potter, sir.” He would’ve run to Harry immediately if Draco as much as sneezed. Kreacher, on the other hand, worshiped the ground that Draco walked on. Apparently Draco reminded him of “a proper pureblood,” namely “Master Regulus, the pride and joy of Mistress Black.”
Draco had taken to taking hour-long showers to wait out his nosebleeds. Harry joked that he spends more time on hair treatment and skincare than any girl he knows. Deciding to not disabuse him of the notion, Draco just smiled as Harry ran his fingers through pale long strands.
What with his parents, Professor Snape and Harry watching over his every move, he enjoyed what moments of privacy he could snatch-even if it means a demented house-elf gets regular private showings of his bits.
He sleeps in his bedroom alone, but he recognizes the surveillance charms placed on the bed hangings ever since he almost bled to death in sixth year.
They also zealously monitored his sleeping schedule. He never got to sleep even an extra five minutes before someone-usually his mother or Harry-opened his bed hangings with a worried expression.
Excusing himself for an afternoon nap always invited a barrage of questions on his energy level and overall health. Harry always had a mystifyingly sickened expression whenever the subject of Morpheus came up. It might be that he felt guilty about the kiss, but Draco was too annoyed to care. He’s also not above manipulating that guilt in order to gain some much-needed breathing room.
Draco never said it out loud, but often he wished he had never left Morpheus’ world. Whenever he had this thought, he always felt that he should feel guilty for not being happy.
The demon was conquered, the curse broken, and the dashing prince rescued. Surely it was now time for his happy reign?
Resting his forehead on the bathroom tiles, Draco sighed. His parents would disown him if they knew their son harbored such Hufflepuffian fancies.
Looking down at his feet, he saw that the water had turned from pink to clear. The icy temperature had stopped his nosebleed, but his brain now felt like a popsicle.
He stepped out of the shower and into the bathtub, which was already filled with warm, sweet-smelling water just the way he liked it. Red and white petals floated on the water among the crystalline bubbles.
Red suits you.
That’s what Morpheus told him, once upon a dream.
But white suits you better.
A soft white petal caressed his cheek, giving a hint of jasmine scent.
He wondered what Harry would’ve done if Morpheus had make good on his half-teasing threat to slip some Lethe water in his drink.
Walking forever among a field of poppy flowers-without a care in the world-is not such a bad thing, really.
Sure it wasn’t real, but who cares about reality if one had lived half his life in dreams?
Draco lowered himself in the bath, until his whole body was submerged in warm water. Opening his eyes, he could see red and white petals swirling gently as his breath disturbed the water.
With a detached curiosity, he held his breath and watched as the petals slowed their weaving dance.
He saw shades of red and gold twisting and turning to the soft music in his head. The Yule Ball. Draco smiled. Sure enough, in the center of it all, a dot was stumbling along with his partner. Harry Potter and his lack of grace outside of Quidditch.
Feeling light-headed, Draco kept his smarting eyes open as Harry’s face swam to the front of his mind.
"Draco! Draco!"
Draco blinked dazedly at Harry’s anxious face. Why was he lying naked in Harry’s arms?
"Oh God, I thought I’ve lost you," Harry sounded hysterical.
Turning wide eyes to Harry, he said, "I couldn’t have drowned, Harry. I’ve told you about the standard anti-drowning charms in Wizarding bathrooms, remember?"
In response, his boyfriend gripped him harder. "Shut up. Not everything can be fixed by magic. What if you had hit your head and stayed underwater for hours? Kreacher called me because you were under for ten minutes, you stupid, beautiful idiot-don’t you dare leave me behind, do you hear me?"
Draco thought that was too melodramatic for a mere fainting spell, but he knew better than to argue with his frantic boyfriend right now.
"Ssh, Harry," he touched cold fingers to cheeks hot with tears. "I’m alright. You’ve saved me again. I’m alright."
The shaking of Harry's shoulders died down as Draco continued whispering platitudes and wiping away his tears.
Here, let me bribe you with a "Dragon Rose" cookie :-P
P.S. Happy Hina Matsuri :-)
For those playing catch up:
"Dragon Dreams"
"Interlude"
Also, other cookies: "Dragon Soars" and accompaniment ("Dragon Rose" cookie) and "Draco Malfoy: The Wizard Behind the Legend" ("Dragon Flies" cookie).
"Dragon Rose" cookie
Rating: PG-13 for now
The work will be based on: "Beauty and the Beast," "Cupid and Psyche," "The Young Slave," and maybe "Bluebeard" and "Rapunzel."
Pairing: Harry/Draco, implied Draco/Morpheus, Theodore/Pansy
Expected Length: 5,000 to 8,000 words
Warning: Some nekkidness.
A/N: I'm sorry it's shortish D: And omgsosappy >_< and woe-is-me angsty, haha. "Dragon Flies" will be plenty dark to justify the angstiness of "Dragon Rose" >_>
Disclaimer: The cookie below isn't beta-ed yet. Most likely this will be the opening scene for "Dragon Rose."
“Master Malfoy!”
Head bowed and hair dripping, Draco stood under the shower in the middle of his own blood.
“Oh, Master Malfoy is injured, Kreacher must find help,” the gnarled house-elf pulled at his ears distractedly.
“No.” Draco said in a low voice. Wiping the blood from his face, he turned toward the house-elf.
“Kreacher. You must not tell anyone about this, understand?”
“I said-do you understand me?”
Nodding his head up and down, the distressed house-elf replied, “Oh Kreacher understands, yes Kreacher understands. Anything for the pureblood son of Mistress Narcissa.”
Ignoring the house-elf’s mutterings, Draco turned and lifted his face in the shower. The cold water felt like tiny shards of ice on his skin-mingling and washing away the blood on his neck and chest.
After he fainted in the bathtub two weeks ago, Harry had insisted that he be supervised even in the bathroom. He pointed out that his life was in no danger since anti-drowning charms are standard in any Wizarding bathroom, but Harry wouldn’t hear any of it.
Thankfully, Sirius had given Kreacher to Draco as an ‘engagement gift.’ Knowing Sirius’ hatred of the house-elf, he was probably glad to be rid of it. Like his godfather, Harry disliked Kreacher immensely, but Draco preferred the Blacks’ house-elf vastly over Dobby.
At first, Harry had wanted to assign Dobby to the task, but Draco had put his foot down. Dobby’s first loyalty is to “Mister Harry Potter, sir.” He would’ve run to Harry immediately if Draco as much as sneezed. Kreacher, on the other hand, worshiped the ground that Draco walked on. Apparently Draco reminded him of “a proper pureblood,” namely “Master Regulus, the pride and joy of Mistress Black.”
Draco had taken to taking hour-long showers to wait out his nosebleeds. Harry joked that he spends more time on hair treatment and skincare than any girl he knows. Deciding to not disabuse him of the notion, Draco just smiled as Harry ran his fingers through pale long strands.
What with his parents, Professor Snape and Harry watching over his every move, he enjoyed what moments of privacy he could snatch-even if it means a demented house-elf gets regular private showings of his bits.
He sleeps in his bedroom alone, but he recognizes the surveillance charms placed on the bed hangings ever since he almost bled to death in sixth year.
They also zealously monitored his sleeping schedule. He never got to sleep even an extra five minutes before someone-usually his mother or Harry-opened his bed hangings with a worried expression.
Excusing himself for an afternoon nap always invited a barrage of questions on his energy level and overall health. Harry always had a mystifyingly sickened expression whenever the subject of Morpheus came up. It might be that he felt guilty about the kiss, but Draco was too annoyed to care. He’s also not above manipulating that guilt in order to gain some much-needed breathing room.
Draco never said it out loud, but often he wished he had never left Morpheus’ world. Whenever he had this thought, he always felt that he should feel guilty for not being happy.
The demon was conquered, the curse broken, and the dashing prince rescued. Surely it was now time for his happy reign?
Resting his forehead on the bathroom tiles, Draco sighed. His parents would disown him if they knew their son harbored such Hufflepuffian fancies.
Looking down at his feet, he saw that the water had turned from pink to clear. The icy temperature had stopped his nosebleed, but his brain now felt like a popsicle.
He stepped out of the shower and into the bathtub, which was already filled with warm, sweet-smelling water just the way he liked it. Red and white petals floated on the water among the crystalline bubbles.
Red suits you.
That’s what Morpheus told him, once upon a dream.
But white suits you better.
A soft white petal caressed his cheek, giving a hint of jasmine scent.
He wondered what Harry would’ve done if Morpheus had make good on his half-teasing threat to slip some Lethe water in his drink.
Walking forever among a field of poppy flowers-without a care in the world-is not such a bad thing, really.
Sure it wasn’t real, but who cares about reality if one had lived half his life in dreams?
Draco lowered himself in the bath, until his whole body was submerged in warm water. Opening his eyes, he could see red and white petals swirling gently as his breath disturbed the water.
With a detached curiosity, he held his breath and watched as the petals slowed their weaving dance.
He saw shades of red and gold twisting and turning to the soft music in his head. The Yule Ball. Draco smiled. Sure enough, in the center of it all, a dot was stumbling along with his partner. Harry Potter and his lack of grace outside of Quidditch.
Feeling light-headed, Draco kept his smarting eyes open as Harry’s face swam to the front of his mind.
"Draco! Draco!"
Draco blinked dazedly at Harry’s anxious face. Why was he lying naked in Harry’s arms?
"Oh God, I thought I’ve lost you," Harry sounded hysterical.
Turning wide eyes to Harry, he said, "I couldn’t have drowned, Harry. I’ve told you about the standard anti-drowning charms in Wizarding bathrooms, remember?"
In response, his boyfriend gripped him harder. "Shut up. Not everything can be fixed by magic. What if you had hit your head and stayed underwater for hours? Kreacher called me because you were under for ten minutes, you stupid, beautiful idiot-don’t you dare leave me behind, do you hear me?"
Draco thought that was too melodramatic for a mere fainting spell, but he knew better than to argue with his frantic boyfriend right now.
"Ssh, Harry," he touched cold fingers to cheeks hot with tears. "I’m alright. You’ve saved me again. I’m alright."
The shaking of Harry's shoulders died down as Draco continued whispering platitudes and wiping away his tears.