i looooove these

me: i looooove water !
boy in my class: haha, “love” is spelled with a singular o, you were close though :) and i would have said “dihydrogen monoxide” instead of simply water, but good job nonetheless

ohsodraco  asked:

Hiii! Congrats on 6.4K followers:)!! If you have time could you maybe write a drabble about Draco running/working in a shop and Harry coming in to buy lots of things from him that he doesn't need because he has a huge crush? Thank youuu. Love your writing!:) 💜💜💜

Ah, thank you so much.  Sorry it took me a few days to get to this request.


When Draco hears the bell chime above the front door he doesn’t even need to look up to know who it is.  No one else comes into his shop this late.  Potter is the only person he knows who would have the audacity to come into a bookshop at half past ten.  Draco never mentions that before Potter started coming in he usually closed up shop by nine.  He doesn’t need to know that Draco stays open every day in the hopes that he might come in.

Draco purposely looks down at the ledger in front of him, dipping his quill into the ink bottle in front of him and doodling in the margins in an attempt to appear busier than he really is.

“Sorry to bother you so late,” Potter mumbles and Draco is glad he has plenty of experience hiding his emotions because the smile that threatens to break out across his face would be a bit embarrassing.

“Potter you always bother me this late and we both know you aren’t remotely sorry.”  When he looks up the other man is smiling at him.  There are few snowflakes still clinging to his hair and his face looks flushed as if he’s run from somewhere.  It’s only when Draco notices that Potter still has his Auror robes on that he realizes perhaps he has.  He looks exceedingly handsome and Draco is especially grateful that he’s standing behind the counter because every day that Potter comes into his shop tests his patience more and more.  He’s not sure how much longer he will be able to hold out before he does something that might be a bit foolish.

“I was…well that is…I was wondering if you might have a book for me.”

Draco snorts, setting the quill down and giving Potter a rather piercing look that makes Potter blush.  Draco likes when he does that, it makes him look younger, or perhaps more his age anyhow.  Draco thinks they probably both look a bit older than their twenty four years, but he likes the softness that crosses Potter’s face when he blushes or smiles.  He tries really hard not to think about it more than is appropriate.  “I always have what you’re looking for, Potter.”  

“Are you sure about that?” he asks, and if Draco didn’t know any better he would almost swear Potter’s tone was flirting.

“Potter, I managed to track down the original copy of The Tales of Beadle the Bard, the Egyptian manuscript on tomb enchments, that rare copy of of third century druid magic and spells, and even that out of print muggle cookbook you wanted.  Merlin only knows what you’re doing with such an odd collection of books but I have managed to find every single one you’ve asked for.  I’m quite positive I’ll be able to find this one, so go ahead, what is it.”

When Draco finally looks up from his rant he nearly jumps because Potter is standing directly in front of him.  He’s so surprised he wonders how he walked without meaning too until he realizes Potter must have climbed over the counter to get beside him.  The other man is so close Draco has to close his eyes, only opening them when Potter’s words ghost across his skin as visceral as if he’d actually touched him.

“I’m looking for this book you see, someone told me it was a good read.  It’s about this bloke who keeps going into this other blokes antique bookshop and buying books he doesn’t need to try and get his attention because he’s got an embarrassingly large crush on him and he isn’t sure how the other man feels.”

Draco wants to speak, really he does, but all that comes out is a squeak.

“Have you read it?” Potter asks, and Draco feels like his heart might actually explode out of his chest because Potter is so close he can see the smallest flecks of brown around the iris of Potter’s eyes, can see in excruciating detail the way it looks when Potter’s warm, pink tongue darts out to lick his lips.

“I..uh, I haven’t read that one.”

“Do you want to?”

It’s too much, Potter standing so close, looking at him with so much hope it nearly breaks him in half and Draco thinks fuck it, fuck self control and self preservation,fuck everything and especially fuck Harry fucking Potter.  And then its Potter who squeaks because Draco does what he’s wanted to do for months and slams him back against the wall, nearly devouring him, except Potter doesn’t seem to be complaining he just arches up against him, sliding his hands into Draco’s hair and making sounds that Draco quite honestly thinks should be illegal.

When they finally pull apart Draco is more than pleased to see that Potter looks utterly wrecked.  He coughs, rubbing his hand on his cheek and leaning forward until his forehead is pressed against Potter’s.

“On further reconsideration I think I might have that book you’re looking for…but it’s back at my flat.   You’d have to come home with me, if you want.”

Potter grins, looking like he’s caught the snitch, and slides his hand down Draco’s back to pull him closer.  “I definitely want.”