Apparently, I’m into Harry Potter (and Draco Malfoy) now

I’m months late, announcing this shocking new development. It started quite a while ago, perhaps as early as in March, though I only realized the extent of the obsession in May. A bit of a strange story, the whole thing, and I’m about to tell it in all the juicy detail.

With all my previous fandoms, the route was: 1) watch or play or read; 2) daydream; 3) write; 4) reluctantly engage with the community, mostly with the goal to advertise my creations. With Harry Potter, it was all backwards. First, I started reading fanfiction, then daydreaming, and watching, reading and playing came almost as an afterthought.

Continue reading Apparently, I’m into Harry Potter (and Draco Malfoy) now

A Ferret’s Sensibility

My latest Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy fic, A Ferret’s Sensibility, is set in Hogwarts 4th year and is the first of a series that will likely go on to the end of the 5th.

Harry was still holding the ferret when Professor McGonagall cast a wordless spell on it, and he only understood what that meant after she had already escaped the room and closed the door behind her.

Harry’s hands were full of Draco Malfoy. A naked Draco Malfoy.

Read here, or on AO3.

Telephone and Post

An utterly self-indulgent, Harry-is-a-Slytherin-AU story retelling the scene from the start of the third book, only it’s Draco making the call and sending the owl because I’m a sucker for friends-to-lovers.

“I hope your fat Muggle cousin isn’t giving you any trouble.”

“Not too much, no,” Harry said as his mind replayed the episode from last week when Dudley had kicked him in the back while climbing down the stairs behind him. Harry had split his lip on the very shelf he was squeezing with a sweaty hand right now. “I told him I don’t need my wand to do magic.”

“They took your wand?”

“Yeah.”

Draco snorted. “Barbaric. Really, Potter, what further evidence do you need that Muggles are like animals? Ignorant, uncouth and unworthy.”

“Not all of them are bad,” Harry said, uncomfortable, as always, with Draco’s hateful remarks. “And there’s plenty of pointless cruelty in the wizarding world too.” He thought of Gregory Goyle, and how he had twisted the neck of an injured pigeon under the Quidditch pitch stands. No one had believed he’d really do it. Even Vincent Crabbe had gone pale in the face. Draco had looked away, clinging to Harry’s shoulder for support, and later he admitted the sight of blood made him woozy, although there’d been no blood. “Anyway,” Harry started to change the subject, but just then the kitchen door opened behind him and Dudley stepped into the hallway.

Read here or on AO3.

Show him what I see

The latest installment in my Baldur’s Gate 3 series about Astarion and my golden boy, Talven Vrinn.

Tav’s angry stare sweeps over the shards of the broken mirror. They glitter feebly in the dirt like so many distant, cold stars. Astarion said he wants to know what Tav sees when he looks at him, but words failed. How do I show him?

Or, an extension of the mirror scene, in which the golden boy, being a sorcerer, decides to Do Something About It.

Read here or on AO3.

Cover art by Ria-neearts.

More than I can say

Inspired by the phenomenal story everything you could ever want by eleadore, More than I can say is a sequel and a love letter. Writing it was more fun than I’ve had with a story in ages, and so, so rewarding. Many thanks to eleadore for kindness and support, and for writing the lovely piece that set this in motion in the first place.

“Your Incarcerous, though,” Potter went on with a grin, “that was wild.” He looked over his shoulder at the blooming bush, picked one of the dramatic white flowers, and buried his nose in it.

Draco’s cheeks burned.

“Was it on purpose?” said Potter, twirling the flower.

Yes, absolutely, is what Draco was supposed to say, but embarrassment had made him stupid, and he shook his head.

“Thought so.” The apple of Potter’s throat went up and down. “Can I kiss you?”

Draco nodded, melting.

Read here, or on AO3.

Party Night

A new installment in my Baldur’s Gate 3 series about Astarion and my golden boy, Talven Vrinn.

Astarion has had enough of this “party”. He picks up the bag with supplies he prepared earlier and makes for the woods. Passing the last torch, he pauses to take one more look at the camp, just in time for another burst of fireworks. Lit by all the colors of the rainbow, Talven stands on his own near the bonfire. Their eyes meet. Talven smiles at first, then grows serious. He points at his eyes, and then at Astarion. I see you.

Astarion’s stomach flips.

When was the last time his stomach flipped with anything but dread?

Not gonna lie, this one was tough to write. I aimed for the sweet spot between uncomfortable and hot; I believe Astarion could’ve actually enjoyed it, though perhaps not fully. That’s how I felt while writing, and now I wonder if a reader might feel the same while reading?

Read the story here, or on AO3.

Cover art by Emy.