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SPN: tabloids rock

hyperactivefics in wordygirls_fics


A story I wrote just now! Well, that's not true, I began it a few days ago, but I just finished it.


For the fanfic50 prompts
Title: I Was Never That Innocent
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy
Prompt: 009::Innocence
Word Count: 1,141
Rating: PG-13
Author's Note: I am really into this whole idea of the war, and the pheonix tattoo on the right arm to symbolize Order members....it's something you'll see in a lot of my stories.

Draco looked around the war tent, noting the tight faces, the furrowed brows. He hated being here, seeing the people he knew age by the minute. Ernie MacMillian was going over some old scroll with Blaise in the corner, a sight that would have been laughable a few months ago, but now was something they all recognized they needed to survive. Over in the small kitchen of the tent, Neville and Pansy were brewing something, Pansy muttering and stirring as Neville added the potions ingredients. After Snape’s death, Neville had become increasingly competent, working with Pansy on potion-brewing. When people tried to talk to him about Snape, his mouth tightened and he snapped out orders to get more wolfsbane, or dried Flobberworm.

Draco knew he avoided the subject because it hurt. But that was war, and not everyone could stay young forever.

He caught Arthur’s eye as he walked out of the bedroom off to the side, where the officers met. Arthur nodded at Draco, who picked up the parchment in front of him and strode into the room, closing the door behind him.

He felt it, that swift kick to the gut that he always got when he saw Harry—the still-gangly limbs, the scars on his forearm that Draco knew marred the phoenix that was tattooed there. It gave Harry another incentive to fight. The mop of black hair, still messy, looking as though he’d just flown off the Quidditch pitch. The mouth, so serious in thought now but so soft when smiling. The eyes, closed as the Savior of the Wizarding World rested for this brief moment, feet on the desk, head tipped back. Draco hated to disturb him, bring him this news.

Hedwig hooted at him softly from her perch behind Harry’s desk, and one brilliant green eye opened, and Draco felt the lurch in his gut again. Harry’s mouth curved up, briefly, and Draco wondered if he’d had cause to smile before this moment. Harry stretched, arms pulled taut, before relaxing and swinging his feet off the desk. He stood, and Draco took one step towards him, waving his hand at the entrance behind him. And then Harry was around the desk, and Draco was enveloped in warmth, arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders, angles and planes of the other man’s body pressed against his. He let the plans he held fall gently to the ground and returned the embrace, feeling Harry turn his head into the curve of Draco’s throat, and Draco smiled.

It had taken Harry until sixth year to finally catch up to Draco in terms of height, and the two now stood eye-to-eye—in more way than one. Draco felt some of the tension melt away from Harry’s body and held on tighter, closing his eyes, savoring the moment.

He knew that these small, stolen times they had together were precious. More so now, because of what Draco was about to tell Harry, the news he had come to deliver. He had snapped at Weasley when he had offered to do it instead, knowing that Weasley was just trying to help, didn’t want Draco to be the one to tell him.

Finally, the moment ended. Harry pulled back, brushing his lips against Draco’s briefly before going back behind the desk. Draco waved his hand at the entrance again, removing the spell he’d cast.

“Well?” Harry asked, eyes smiling but face serious. It wasn’t an impatient question, or a probing one. Just the word. Draco picked up the papers, handed them over the desk, sat as Harry did, perching himself on the edge of the chair in front of the desk.

Harry took them, noted the seal on the front, and his brow furrowed slightly before he opened the letters. He read quickly, frown becoming more and more prominent. When he was finished, he set the papers down and looked at Draco.

“We knew this might happen,” Draco said, calmly, to let the other know he wasn’t worried in the least—a lie, of course, one he knewe Harry saw right through. Harry nodded, leaning back in the chair again, one foot resting on the desk—Draco knew that was how he thought.

“We did,” the other man agreed, voice slightly husky. “It was always a concern of this organization that—”

“Oh, cut the bollocks, Harry!” Draco’s voice rose, the calm façade shattering. Harry’s eyebrows winged up and the look on his face became dangerous. “This ‘organization’? You make it sound like some secret war op, and what it IS is a bunch of people fighting for what’s right.” He yanked up the sleeve covering his right arm, revealing the phoenix tattoo. “Don’t give ME of all people that bureaucratic bullshit.”

Harry was up and around the desk in a mater of seconds, arms on either side of the chair Draco was sitting in, face only inches away from Draco’s own. A sensible person would have shrunk back. Draco leaned forward until their noses touched.

“Bullshit?” Harry’s voice was a menacing whisper. “You think that’s what that is? Bullshit?” His hands came up and gripped Draco’s face, pulling the blonde towards him as h pressed his mouth to his own. This was not a gentle kiss, a peacemaking kiss. This kiss was as brutal as the war itself, and Draco realized that, even as he fought back and gave in, gripping Harry’s hair and pulling him closer, finding himself being hauled to his feet and pressed against the other boy, not caring that the door was unwarded and anyone could have seen. He fought back, not because he was angry, but because he knew his lover was scared. So he fought back, fought nip for nip, tug for tug. Harry’s hands eventually gentled, and his hands drifted to Draco’s hair, his shoulders, his back. Draco mirrored the touch, knowing this was what Harry was like.

Harry pulled back, pressing his forehead against Draco’s, breathing heavily.

“It’s not bullshit, Drake,” he said quietly, eyes closed. “I do it because it’s the only way I can think of them getting to you without wanting to go out there right now and kill every last one of them.”

Draco moved his hands up to Harry’s face and traced the line of his jaw, his cheekbones, lips. “I know,” he said, pressing his lips to Harry’s. “I know.”

“I just…I hate this loss.” Harry’s word were almost strangled now, and Draco knew he was fighting for control. “I hate this loss of innocence, of childhood.”

Draco smirked at the other man as he pulled back a little in order to see Harry’s face clearly, and let his eyes travel the other man’s form before returning his gaze to Harry’s. “I haven’t been innocent for a long time,” he said.

Harry laughed. It was a sound Draco carried with him until the day he died.


Awwwww!! I love Harry/Draco! <3 ^_^ This was so cute and fun, even if it was sad, and for some reason Harry reminded me of Peter in "5 Years Gone." It was probably the scarring and the hardcore war leaderyness. :D But I liked it a lot! And I loved Neville, even though he was only there for like a second. ^_^ Cuuuute.

so, very good my lovely. you leave us hanging sorta, and as always, i want to know more. but i do the same thing, and i wonder if you're who i get it from.

But yes. very good. i'm likin it.

keep up the good work moonly. :) :)