25 DAYS OF H/D #13: - The Postmaster: Harry's Flat (PG-13)
Title: Harry's Flat
Word Count: 2 x 100
Rating: PG-13
Prompt #14: Poinsettia (A bit of cheating, as I am using prompt #14 for drabble #13. ;))
Author's Notes: This drabble series is a sequel to Bound Skerry by frayach who kindly allowed me to d(r)abble in her 'verse. It will only make sense if you know the story. This drabble is inspired, too, by marguerite_26,'s Come Back to Me, a remix of Bound Skerry.
They step out of the fireplace into a sparsely furnished room - table, chair, shelf of books.
"This is where Harry lived, those last few years." Ginny considers Draco. "When he was not with you."
It's close but it's not the whole of the truth. For the Skerries are everywhere in this place. On the window-sill, where this time of year usually Poinsettias bloom, rock-cress grows, the green-leaved kind and amongst them the smaller, dark-leaved one. Between the flowerpots a broken seashell rests on a bed of sparkling sand.
"Stay here for the night," Ginny says. "Harry would want you to."
*
Trails of sand crisscross the living room floor. They lead Draco through another door and to Harry's bed. A frayed quilt covers it, stitched together from scraps of brown, grey and green. Draco undresses and slips beneath the sheets, breathing in Harry's familiar scent. The quilt is rough against his naked skin.
As his eyes adjust to the darkness in the room, the ceiling reveals cracks of glimmering gold. They weave and thread from window to walls, reminding Draco of nothing as much as the flow and ebb of the sea. He touches himself, slowly. But he does not come.
Word Count: 2 x 100
Rating: PG-13
Prompt #14: Poinsettia (A bit of cheating, as I am using prompt #14 for drabble #13. ;))
Author's Notes: This drabble series is a sequel to Bound Skerry by frayach who kindly allowed me to d(r)abble in her 'verse. It will only make sense if you know the story. This drabble is inspired, too, by marguerite_26,'s Come Back to Me, a remix of Bound Skerry.
They step out of the fireplace into a sparsely furnished room - table, chair, shelf of books.
"This is where Harry lived, those last few years." Ginny considers Draco. "When he was not with you."
It's close but it's not the whole of the truth. For the Skerries are everywhere in this place. On the window-sill, where this time of year usually Poinsettias bloom, rock-cress grows, the green-leaved kind and amongst them the smaller, dark-leaved one. Between the flowerpots a broken seashell rests on a bed of sparkling sand.
"Stay here for the night," Ginny says. "Harry would want you to."
*
Trails of sand crisscross the living room floor. They lead Draco through another door and to Harry's bed. A frayed quilt covers it, stitched together from scraps of brown, grey and green. Draco undresses and slips beneath the sheets, breathing in Harry's familiar scent. The quilt is rough against his naked skin.
As his eyes adjust to the darkness in the room, the ceiling reveals cracks of glimmering gold. They weave and thread from window to walls, reminding Draco of nothing as much as the flow and ebb of the sea. He touches himself, slowly. But he does not come.