ok so i just found your account and i'm in love❤️❤️❤️ thank you for gracing our fandom with your amazing writing!! can you do 28 for drarry please??💚
Thank you sm <3,, and trust me, the pleasure is all mine
((everyone;; pls have patience, my inbox is bursting with prompts and i intend to do every single one of them, don’t worry, I just need time :) ))
28 - “c’m here”
Harry Potter was panicking.
He was a fully-grown adult, and perfectly capable to get himself out of difficult situations with a wave of his wand. He had no trouble dueling with people - or enemies - and he wouldn’t really be bothered to take on a dragon. (Again.)
Yet now, sitting cross-legged in the cupboard of the room of requirement, locked inside with Draco Malfoy sitting on the other side, he found it insanely hard to breathe.
“Why are we doing this game again?” Malfoy muttered, one of his hands in his hair and the other on his leg, tapping an uneven rhythm, as if he was as nervous as Harry was panicky. “I knew that the combination of Granger and Pansy was dangerous -”
“Malfoy, shut up.” Harry hissed.
Just breathe, he thought firmly, repeating it as a mantra over and over again.
He was not going to get a panic-attack in front of Draco Malfoy.
Malfoy, however, ignored him. “- and then the booze! And the stupid dare game! I knew muggle drinking games were the absolute worst -”
Harry whimpered, and pulled his knees up to his chest.
Was it just him, or was the cupboard getting smaller?
“- and now I’m locked up with you, Golden boy of the world and….” Malfoy’s voice faltered. “Er, Potter? Are you okay over there?”
“Yeah,” Harry croaked. Just breathe. “Dandy.”
“You look like you’re about to throw up.”
“Your face does that to me.”
Malfoy snorted, obviously unimpressed with the lame insult. “Really. Did you drink too much? I always knew you were a lightweight.”
Harry groaned, and hid his face in his hands.
The only thing worse than being locked up in a cupboard was being locked up with someone like Draco Malfoy. It was like his bad luck was trying to get a new record of him being close to losing it.
“I was drinking butterbeer, Malfoy,” Harry finally said, his voice slightly muffled. “And unless you can get drunk off that, I don’t see why I -”
“Then why are you sick?”
“I’m not sick.”
Malfoy groaned theatrically. “Your face is fucking green, Potter. And if you are going to throw up on me, I swear to Circe -”
“You’ll what?” Harry looked up - and, fuck.
The world began to spin, and he almost fell over face-first into Malfoy’s lap, if it weren’t for his quick seeker reflexes.
“Potter!” Malfoy screamed in a high-pitched voice, and backed away, his limbs flaying around. “Let go of my legs!”
“Sorry,” Harry said, not feeling very sorry at all. “It was either that, or fall on your lap, and I doubt you would’ve liked that very much.”
Was it just Harry’s mind playing tricks with him, or was Malfoy blushing? “Fine. You can let go now, though.”
Everything was shaking. Or was it just Harry shaking? “Er,” he croaked, trying to stay focused on his hands, on Malfoy’s knees, on Malfoy’s breathing, “If you don’t mind, I’ll stay like this for a sec.”
It was silent for a minute, and Harry closed his eyes, trying to even his breathing with that of Malfoy.
It’s just a cupboard.
“Potter?” Came Malfoy’s voice suddenly, and it sounded strangely fragile. “I ask again; are you okay?”
“Yeah,” he lied. “I’m fine.”
“Okay, fuck.” Malfoy sighed, and suddenly grabbed Harry’s arms, pulling him towards him, “c’m here you stubborn bastard.”
“Malfoy!” Harry yelled, but didn’t really protest when he was pulled into Malfoy’s lap, with his arms around him, locked into a sudden tight embrace. “What are you -”
“You will not speak of this to anyone,” Malfoy threatened, his voice not louder than a whisper. His grip tightened.
“Just shut up, and breathe.”
And for the first time in his life, Harry listened to him.