nyx??? writing fluff?? who are they

(nyx??? uploading?? who are they)

nobody yell at me I went down a dsmp rabbithole and started writing that over on a03 I dont wanna hear it

i'm here now that's all that matters

inspired by this post of little words to use in a story:

https://creativepromptsforwriting.tumblr.com/post/683052926957125632/may-prompts-word-prompts-to-use-for-doodling-or

They are not together.

This is what Harry rationalizes when they go to the farmer's market at eight a.m., Draco's smile brighter than the morning light when he begs Harry to buy him a Muggle juice box (he calls it a "juice bin", but he beams with the power to illuminate his whole face when Harry hands it over, so Harry keeps his mouth shut and lets him call it what he wants).

The autumn breeze is cool, but Harry has never felt warmer.

They are not together.

This is what Harry tells Hermione after he orders Draco's coffee-to-go off the top of his head, knowing every stupid addition he puts in it that barely makes it coffee anymore. She gives him a look, like she knows something he doesn't, and he tells her it is nothing, they are just friends. She shakes her head, but doesn't push it.

(And if he blushes when he brings Draco the coffee and the boy thanks him with a bright smile, that's none of Hermione's business.)

They are not together.

This is the mantra Harry chants when Kingsley exclaims that he and Draco won the week-long getaway in the raffle he was pretty sure he hadn't even entered.

Draco is beyond excited when they get to the island, and Harry can't help but feel a little empty when the blonde disappears for two hours, leaving his luggage by the door in favor of exploring.

Harry does some exploring of his own, wandering through the lake house. There are photographs of a family he doesn't recognize on the mantel. The house is cold, but he doesn't know where the heater is. Why would they win a lake house in the middle of the winter?

He goes outside despite the bitter chill, and stands by the lake. The water looks calm, inviting. Tiny cerulean waves nearly touch his feet, and he finds himself biting back a grin as he steps back, nostalgia of being small and running from the waves hitting him at once.

Clouds gather in the sky, and he wonders where Draco is, if the boy has gotten himself lost in the trees on the island. He is mere moments from going to retrieve the boy, before said blonde steps out from the small forest, grinning brightly.

"Isn't it beautiful?" he cheers, spreading his hands out to the sky.

Harry, never tearing his eyes away from the blonde, nods.

They are not together.

This is what Harry tells himself as he holds a rag carefully to Draco's leg, resting upon his thighs so he can reach. He had cut it on a branch during one of his little adventures into the island forest, and despite the small trickles of blood running down his thigh, he is smiling just as brightly as he always does.

Petrichor emanates from the air; the rain had stopped nearly an hour ago, but the scent remains in the air, filling the lake house.

"Would you like to come with me next time?" Draco asks, and Harry would be a dead man before he'd be able to say no to that.

They are not together.

It's a bit difficult to convince even himself as Draco sets out the blanket for the picnic in the forest. There is a bitter chill in the air to remind them that this is winter, this is not when picnics are supposed to happen, but lemonade and strawberries peek out from Draco's basket like it's mid-July.

Draco practically glows in the icy sunlight, beaming at Harry as he sits down and begins to set up their picnic. Harry is sure he is red, and he darts his eyes anywhere else.

A small patch of orchids grows a few feet away, and he remembers vaguely from Herbology that they bloom in fall all the way through spring. Draco seems like an orchid person, so Harry leaves him for a moment to pick an orchid and bring it to him.

Draco's smile is unlike anything Harry has seen before. He kisses the hand Harry brings him the flower with and sets it in the middle of the blanket like it is a treasure.

They are not together.

Springtime comes with birdsong and mayflowers, and Harry chants in his head when he brings Draco a small bouquet of them, asking if he'd like to go out sometime.

Draco is saying yes before the question is full past Harry's lips. His smile is breathtaking, and Harry finds himself having to blink his eyes away for a moment, allowing himself to breathe again.

They are not together.

Friends hold hands at drive-in-theaters, Harry rationalizes. It's a scary movie, it's a semblance of comfort to have another person's hand in yours.

And sure, Draco doesn't let go of his hand until Harry drops him off at home, but it's purely platonic. Friends hold hands all the time.

They are not together.

This is what Harry insists to Ron when he and Draco move into an apartment together. It's just for the company; they both lived in huge empty houses before. The small apartment in the Muggle world just works better for them both.

Ron doesn't give him the smile that Hermione would. He just claps Harry on the shoulder, says "You're gay, mate," and walks away before Harry can get a word in.

They are not together.

This is what Harry tells himself as he buys the potted plant Draco wanted for their apartment without even thinking about it. Friends buy things for friends all the time. Draco likes plants. It makes sense. Besides, they've already got twenty. What's one more?

They are not together.

This is what Harry says exasperatedly to Ginny when they come into her animal shelter. Draco is looking at the Crup on the other side of the room, and when Ginny gives him a look that reminds Harry too much of Hermione, he hisses that to her. Her expression does not change,

They buy a cat and the Crup. Ginny's smug grin never leaves her face.

They are not together.

This is what Harry insists to himself when they move out of the apartment and into the lake house. It's just bigger, it works better. They have two pets, they need room to run around. Besides, they like the lake house. It's nice, the island is beautiful.

It is spring now, and the field of orchids is now marigolds and daisies. Harry brings Draco some of them, and Draco puts them in a vase in the kitchen. It is the first decoration they put in their house.

They are not together.

This is what Harry casually says while Draco makes milkshakes in their kitchen. Summer sunlight streams through the window and glints in Draco's grey eyes when he stares at Harry in surprise.

"Are we not?" he asks in genuine surprise, pouring milkshakes into two glasses. He puts whipped cream on both and cherries on his own, because Harry hates them. Draco knows Harry hates them.

"No...?" Harry is confused. "We're friends."

"Are we really just friends?" Draco looks very calm, albeit a little surprised still. He does not look as though he has been rejected, although Draco has always been good at thinking things through and reacting calmly, ever since they graduated.

"I... think so?" Harry is confused. He had never even allowed himself to consider the possibility. "Are we just friends?"

Draco shrugs, sliding Harry's milkshake across their dining table. It is sunshine yellow, like the rest of their kitchen, with the exception of the occasional plant. "I was under the impression that we were together. We never really talked about it, I guess."

"But we've never even kissed!"

Draco shrugged. "I kissed your hand. I don't know, I never really needed to show physical affection like that with you to show you how I feel. Neither of us are particularly touchy. I don't know, you bring me flowers and juice bins and listen to me talk about the different kinds of flowers endlessly. And I kiss your hand and take you on picnics. We sleep in the same bed. We have a house together, and a Crup and a cat. Yesterday you asked me if I ever thought about adopting kids." He shrugged again. "I dunno."

Harry paused. "Huh. It- it was so natural, I never even considered that the way I feel about you is different. I guess- I guess we're together."

Draco shook his head, grinning over his milkshake. "Glad you caught up with the rest of the world."

Harry throws his straw at him.

They are... together.

Harry sits by the lake and sketches the orchids. Autumn has only just started, but he knows soon the blossoms will be everywhere. Draco is sitting on their porch swing and talking on the phone with the man from the adoption agency. Their cat is on his back, fighting with the weeds in a way that has Draco holding the phone away from his face so he can laugh. Their Crup is curled up at the blonde's feet, sleeping peacefully.

Inside the house, photographs of the unfamiliar family are gone. They are replaced with pictures of Draco and Harry laughing, holding each other, kissing. There are pictures of their Crup and their cat, of Hermione and Ron, of James and Narcissa, of Ginny and Lily. The house is no longer cold, warmed by the sun and Draco's presence.

Cerulean waves roll up and catch the edge of Harry's foot, instant cold seeping through his shoe. He doesn't move. Summer sunshine stays even in autumn, and the warmth dries the cool water quickly.

He knows soon enough the water will roll up and soak his shoe again. He doesn't care. He is not nine years old anymore, screeching and running from the waves. He is twenty-six, sitting by the lake with his sketchbook in hand. Draco is off the phone now, and he joins him. The second the blonde sits, the wave comes again and soaks the bottoms of both of their shoes. Their joined laughter rings through the autumn air. They sit by the lake, watching golden hour slip away over their lake house.

Together.