Posting my first progress pictures I’ve ever posted. A little nerve-wracking, and I know they’re not drastic, but I’m pretty damn happy with myself.
The top two are from two months ago (June 12) and the bottom two are from tonight (Sept 1). I’ve lost almost 30 pounds from mid-May. I’m happier with myself, my choices, my life and my overall confidence than I have ever been in my life. Choosing to be healthy again has been the best decision I have ever made for myself and I’m so happy that it’s paying off in both my body and my mind.
@perchancetoendure told me not to worry about missing her birthday, but she’s thrown me so many parades over the last year I couldn’t do that!!
Harry, like me, sometimes doesn’t know when to quit, so after Draco has a bad day he tries to cheer him up with a few presents lol.
1.5K words, no smut. Pic set by me (images not mine). Featuring Blake Steven as Harry and Boyd Holbrook as Draco.
Draco couldn’t wait to get home.
There was a thumping that had started
several hours ago at the front of his skull that now resembled a woodpecker,
his spine was just a series of aching knots and his throat was raw as sand.
This day could officially do one.
He was lucky to still have his job, he knew
that, but it was of little comfort when the firm had suffered possibly its
biggest loss in the history of the company.
As a former Slytherin, he normally had a healthy amount of respect for a
cunning deal, well executed. But it was
hard to muster the awe when it had been targeted at him and his people.
They had done everything right, everything
they could have thought of to save the law-suit, but when one of your own
decided to betray you to save their own skin (and probably line their own
pockets) there was little that could ultimately be done.
Slimygit, Draco thought ruefully. He’d spent most of the journey home cathartically
imagining all the gruesome things he would
love to do to the traitor if only he could get his hands on him, and for once
the professional side of his brain was too tired to pipe up about all the laws
he’d be breaking in the process, thus allowing him several rather satisfying fantasies.
Draco sighed as he ascended the steps to his
front door, and put aside his imaginary murder schemes. If he was lucky, maybe Harry would be home to
listen sympathetically whilst he outlined exactly how badly his day had truly sucked,
and then he’d down some firewhiskey and crawl into bed. At least it was Friday and he could get good
and drunk if he wanted.
He jammed his key in the door and rubbed his
eyelids. Actually all he wanted was a
cuddle, but he couldn’t just ask for
one. He’d just bitch and moan until
Harry got the hint, rolled his eyes, and dragged Draco down onto the couch to
pet him until he calmed down. He smirked
to himself. Winding Harry up was half
the fun after all.
Harry was home, though he surprised Draco by
already being sat on the bottom of the staircase waiting anxiously for him.
“You’re home!” he cried, jumping to his feet
so fast his glasses almost slipped off his nose.
snorted. “Nothing gets past you,” he
Harry ignored him and pulled him into that
hug he’d been angling for much quicker than he’d hoped. He thought he was going to have to put in at
least twenty minutes of top quality griping.
“Hermione told me what happened,” he said, rubbing Draco’s back despite
his huff of (fake) protest. “I’m so
proud of you.”
Draco jerked backwards and looked at Harry
as if he’d lost his mind. He was certain
Harry would have been immune to those kind of looks now, considering they came
at least three times a week, but every time he would blink and ask-
“What?” in disbelief.
Harry we almost lost the firm!”
Harry rewarded him with the eye roll. “And Hermione said if it hadn’t been for you
there would have been no almost about
it. She said she’d never seen you fight
so hard, and you managed to save your people’s jobs despite the heavy financial
Draco grumbled that that really didn’t
matter when they’d still been absolutely walloped, but he still allowed Harry
to pull him back into a stroppy cuddle.
“I’m sorry you had a crappy day,” Harry
sighed, and Draco felt like an arse.
“That’s okay,” he mumbled into Harry’s
neck. “Thank you for being nice.”
Harry chuckled and kissed the side of his
head. “I um,” he said shyly. “Might have got you some presents to make you
“Presents!” Draco snapped, immediately feeling
about a thousand times better. “Why on
earth didn’t you say so you massive tease.
Where are my presents? I want
them right now.” He grinned to show
Harry he was joking (sort of), but Harry grinned right back.
“I knew that would work,” he boasted,
grabbing Draco’s hand. “I erm, might
have gone just a tad overboard.”
“Nonsense Potter,” Draco declared as he was
lead hastily down the corridor into the kitchen. “There’s no such…thing.”
He stopped and looked around their usually
tidy kitchen, which currently looked like a confetti bomb had exploded all over
it. Streamers ran from every corner and
cabinet top, and there were balloons quietly bobbing about and singing
squeakily to themselves. Harry lurched
forward and grabbed two freshly poured glasses of champagne, thrusting one into
Draco’s hand as his eyes wandered over the hamper from Honeydukes, the second
bottle of bubbly, several other wrapped presents and a suspicious looking large
and colourful box that sat in the middle of it all.
“Nope, I take it back,” he said
faintly. “You’re bonkers. You didn’t even do this much on my birthday!”
Harry slipped his arm around his waist, and
he felt a flurry of excitement flurry over his skin. He was still bone tired and mad as all hell
at the world, but Harry knew just how to remind him what was important in
life. “Ooh,” he said devilishly. “Is that some sort of chocolate body paint I spy?”
he asked, reaching for the hamper.
Harry smacked his hand down though. “Later,” he growled in a positively scintillating
manner. Then he pointed to the big box, and
his expression changed from playful to panicked in a flash. “Erm…that’s the overboard part.”
Draco arched an eyebrow at him. “What, and the rest of this is nothing
“Just open the damn box,” Harry muttered,
going bright pink. “I’d say we can get a
refund…but I think we’re a bit beyond that now.”
“So I’d better like it or else?” Draco
suggested, but Harry just shoved him towards the box.
Curious, Draco ran his fingers over the lid,
noticing it had several holes punched into it but not really appreciating the
significance. That was, until he lifted
it up and saw what was inside.
“Salazar sodding Slytherin!” he yelped as he
jumped back, clutching the lid to his chest.
The little kitten nestled on the blanket inside looked up with enormous
hazel eyes, ginger fur sticking out at every angle.
it squawked at him in a rather demanding manner.
“You got me a kitten,” Draco breathed, not
daring to take his eyes off the beast as it stretched up to rest its paws on
the box edge and peek up at its new surroundings.
“Yeah,” Harry said slowly. “I popped in the pet shop to get some owl
feed, and this little devil was beating the crap out of all the Kneazle
kittens, despite being half their size.”
Draco eyed the little thing
appreciatively. “Is that so?” he said.
“The owner said nobody wanted him, and I
know you don’t like anything that fluffy or cute, but he just looked so sad, I
couldn’t leave him! If you hate him
though I’m sure Hermione would take him-”
“We are not giving hand-me-down pets to the
Granger-Weasleys,” Draco interrupted huffily.
He batted Harry away as he tried to step up to the box. “It’s a mangy thing, but it’s my present and I
shan’t be swindled out of a gift that easily.”
He sniffed, then poked the kitten’s side. The beast mewled again, baring impressive
teeth for something so tiny. Draco
picked it up easily with one hand and held it up for inspection.
Its legs dangled from either side of Draco’s
palm, and it weighed no more than a handful of dry parchment, but the little
monster still managed an impressive scowl.
“Whatever were you thinking?” Draco scoffed. “It’s ugly and pathetic, who would ever want
such a thing?”
“Uh-hmm,” Harry hummed from behind him.
went the kitten.
Draco arched an eyebrow. “Well, I need to get changed,” he announced,
but when he tried to dislodge the rude little scoundrel it just slipped through
his fingers and sunk its claws into the fabric of his sleeve. “Huh?” he said.
“I think he likes you,” Harry said, and
Draco pretended to ignore the barely stifled giggle.
“It’s probably just trying to share its
flees with me,” he drawled, then narrowed his eyes and the pest. “Oh well, if that’s the way you want to play
it, I suppose you’ll have to come with me until I can unpick you from my Gladrags. Then Harry can have you back – I think you’re
starting to make me sneeze anyway.”
Without once acknowledging Harry’s larger-than-life smirk, he strode proudly from the kitchen, as if he always walked
around with a small feline clinging to his arm.
When Harry found Draco later, fast asleep on
their couch with a certain tiny ball of orange fluff curled up on his shoulder,
also dead to the world, he absolutely did not congratulate himself, or even punch
the air a little. He just did what any
caring boyfriend would do, and took a picture.
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