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.

A Ferret’s Sensibility

“Professor Moody!” In the sudden silence, all eyes turned to Professor McGonagall. She pushed past the crowd. “Is that… a student?”

The white ferret hung in mid-air, twisting and squirming in futile bids for freedom.

“Well, um…” Moody began, but didn’t get far.

“Professor Moody, transfiguring students is not an acceptable means of punishment! You should know better than that. Release him at once!”

With a flick of Moody’s wand, the ferret fell in the grass. It started in one direction, then another, fast as lightning and blind with panic, and a gasp rose from the crowd. The many pairs of shoed feet drew back, forming a widening enclosure as student after student stepped back, startled by the animal’s speed and aggression.

As usual, Harry was the only one to stand his ground. The ferret rushed at him and climbed up his left leg, its vicious little claws tearing at his skin like his jeans were nothing. He yelped and jumped back, but it was too late. The ferret had already burrowed its way under his robes. It all happened in a heartbeat. Fairly panicked himself, Harry seized the ferret just before it reached his shoulder, and pressed its small ribcage against his chest. His heart raced, but nowhere near as fast as the ferret’s.

As Draco’s. Harry suddenly realized that was Malfoy there, hiding in his robes.

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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.

Telephone and Post

Harry sensed trouble the moment the telephone rang. He raced down the stairs to get it before any of the Dursleys, but Uncle Vernon barred his way, scowling, and picked up the receiver.

“Hello?” he said.

“Good afternoon!” rang Draco’s voice from the other side, as loud as if he were right there with them. “Is that the Dursley residence?”

Uncle Vernon’s brows rose in appreciation of Draco’s haughty tone. “Why yes, yes it is.”

“I must be speaking with Mr Vernon Dursley, then. It’s an honor, sir. Harry has told me so much about you.”

“Harry?”

“Harry Potter, sir. I wonder if I may speak with him, if that’s all right with you, sir?”

Uncle Vernon was frowning now. “Who are you? How do you know Harry?”

“My name’s Draco Malfoy, sir. Harry and I are friends. From the uh… neighborhood.”

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