FIC: Baking Biscuits (Draco/Neville - 530 - PG-13)
Title: Baking Biscuits
Author/Artist: ???
Pairing(s): Draco Malfoy/Neville Longbottom
Prompt: Baking Christmas Biscuits Together
Word Count/Art Medium: ~530
Rating: Teen
Contains: Holiday Fluff, With a little sadness, discussions of past trauma, discussions of past sexual activities
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Thank you to the lovely mods at Mini-Fest for this delightful festive fest! I saw this prompt and couldn't wait to snatch it up.
To @dreville, your love of our boys is just so wonderful, and I'm glad we've met through this fandom.
Thank you to my bff @tsundanire for the beta and heart emojis.
Happy Christmas everyone! Esp Neville and Draco who deserve all the happiness and biscuits.
Summary: Neville wants to decorate some Christmas biscuits, but the last time Draco baked, it ended in disaster.
READ ON AO3
“You want us to what?” Draco looked around the kitchen. The usually clean countertops were covered with bags of ingredients, a round wooden stick and metal prongy things in the shape of trees and wreaths, and Merlin, was that a Thestral?
“Bake.” Neville smiled softly, leaning against one of the crowded counters.
“By ourselves.”
“Yes?”
“With our own two hands.”
“Yes.”
“Longbottom, have you hit your head again?”
“Yes, when you fucked me into the headboard last night. That has nothing to do with this.”
Draco sighed. He had tried to cook for Neville once. After Neville and Potter's joint birthday party, they had tumbled into bed together-a drunken surprise for both of them . But when Draco had woken up in Neville’s arms, the smell of earth and the sun shining through the windows in a peaceful haze, Draco hadn’t wanted to leave like usual. So he padded into Neville’s kitchen, void of any house elves, and attempted a fry-up.
Neville had jolted awake to the sound of Draco screaming “Aguamenti! Damnit, Aguamenti!” while the house filled with smoke.
He had entered the kitchen, swinging his wand as gallantly as he had when he killed that blasted snake with the sword, and snuffed the burning bacon with a quick Oxygeni Ultra. Draco had felt the atmosphere whip out of the room as the fire ceased, only to be replaced by lavender-scented air.
“I used to burn a lot of things growing up,” Neville said, embarrassed, as he had nervously rubbed the back of his neck. “Learned that grease fires don’t play nicely with water.”
Draco had only nodded, unwilling to accept that there was indeed one thing he was not good at. He had avoided cooking ever since.
Until the Saturday before Christmas, when he woke up without Neville’s safe arms wrapped around his waist, and found the chaos in what was usually an orderly kitchen.
“It’s a Longbottom tradition.” Neville continued, his face a bit somber for so early in the morning. “Decorating biscuits together.” He Accioed something from another room, and Draco waited with raised eyebrows until the object arrived and clenched in Neville’s hand.
“That’s my dad and I,” Neville said, handing the photograph over to Draco. A man, with brown tousled hair and an apron around his neck, stood holding a tiny tot in his arms. “We’re baking Halloween biscuits.”
Draco smiled at baby Neville, hands covered in biscuit dough and precious smile stretched across his chubby face. “You were so cute.”
“Don’t think I’m cute now?” Neville asked, grinning. Draco playfully slapped him on the shoulder. “It’s the last photo of the two of us, before...well, before.”
Draco knew what before was. Before his own Aunt, his own blood, destroyed Neville’s life. He threaded his fingers through Neville’s hand, and gave him a squeeze.
Even though he hated everything that had to do with baking, or cooking, or the terrifying kitchen in general, Draco would do anything he could for the people he cared about, that wiggled their way into his heart.
So, with a grin, Draco turned towards the line of ingredients. “Let’s get started then! These biscuits aren’t going to decorate themselves.”
Author/Artist: ???
Pairing(s): Draco Malfoy/Neville Longbottom
Prompt: Baking Christmas Biscuits Together
Word Count/Art Medium: ~530
Rating: Teen
Contains: Holiday Fluff, With a little sadness, discussions of past trauma, discussions of past sexual activities
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Thank you to the lovely mods at Mini-Fest for this delightful festive fest! I saw this prompt and couldn't wait to snatch it up.
To @dreville, your love of our boys is just so wonderful, and I'm glad we've met through this fandom.
Thank you to my bff @tsundanire for the beta and heart emojis.
Happy Christmas everyone! Esp Neville and Draco who deserve all the happiness and biscuits.
Summary: Neville wants to decorate some Christmas biscuits, but the last time Draco baked, it ended in disaster.
READ ON AO3
“You want us to what?” Draco looked around the kitchen. The usually clean countertops were covered with bags of ingredients, a round wooden stick and metal prongy things in the shape of trees and wreaths, and Merlin, was that a Thestral?
“Bake.” Neville smiled softly, leaning against one of the crowded counters.
“By ourselves.”
“Yes?”
“With our own two hands.”
“Yes.”
“Longbottom, have you hit your head again?”
“Yes, when you fucked me into the headboard last night. That has nothing to do with this.”
Draco sighed. He had tried to cook for Neville once. After Neville and Potter's joint birthday party, they had tumbled into bed together-a drunken surprise for both of them . But when Draco had woken up in Neville’s arms, the smell of earth and the sun shining through the windows in a peaceful haze, Draco hadn’t wanted to leave like usual. So he padded into Neville’s kitchen, void of any house elves, and attempted a fry-up.
Neville had jolted awake to the sound of Draco screaming “Aguamenti! Damnit, Aguamenti!” while the house filled with smoke.
He had entered the kitchen, swinging his wand as gallantly as he had when he killed that blasted snake with the sword, and snuffed the burning bacon with a quick Oxygeni Ultra. Draco had felt the atmosphere whip out of the room as the fire ceased, only to be replaced by lavender-scented air.
“I used to burn a lot of things growing up,” Neville said, embarrassed, as he had nervously rubbed the back of his neck. “Learned that grease fires don’t play nicely with water.”
Draco had only nodded, unwilling to accept that there was indeed one thing he was not good at. He had avoided cooking ever since.
Until the Saturday before Christmas, when he woke up without Neville’s safe arms wrapped around his waist, and found the chaos in what was usually an orderly kitchen.
“It’s a Longbottom tradition.” Neville continued, his face a bit somber for so early in the morning. “Decorating biscuits together.” He Accioed something from another room, and Draco waited with raised eyebrows until the object arrived and clenched in Neville’s hand.
“That’s my dad and I,” Neville said, handing the photograph over to Draco. A man, with brown tousled hair and an apron around his neck, stood holding a tiny tot in his arms. “We’re baking Halloween biscuits.”
Draco smiled at baby Neville, hands covered in biscuit dough and precious smile stretched across his chubby face. “You were so cute.”
“Don’t think I’m cute now?” Neville asked, grinning. Draco playfully slapped him on the shoulder. “It’s the last photo of the two of us, before...well, before.”
Draco knew what before was. Before his own Aunt, his own blood, destroyed Neville’s life. He threaded his fingers through Neville’s hand, and gave him a squeeze.
Even though he hated everything that had to do with baking, or cooking, or the terrifying kitchen in general, Draco would do anything he could for the people he cared about, that wiggled their way into his heart.
So, with a grin, Draco turned towards the line of ingredients. “Let’s get started then! These biscuits aren’t going to decorate themselves.”