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 her 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.
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.
“Just look at them.” Astarion snorts. “Drinking and singing as though they’ve reached Baldur’s Gate already. Like dispersing the goblins means safety, when it just means they’ll be slaughtered elsewhere along the road.” He snorts. The vapid celebration annoys him more and more with each passing minute. The naive little bard with her saccharine tunes, the aged Hellrider with his fatherly concerns, the destitute refugees with their mundane hopes and dreams. Ugh.
Continue reading Party Night
Is eleven-years-old Draco ready to learn his heart’s true desire?
I enjoyed this thought experiment a lot and I’m happy to share the story that came out of it.
Read it here, or on AO3.
One hallway, two spiral staircases, three turns, and they were lost.
Draco should’ve known better than to put his trust in Vince and Greg. Oh, he believed they’d seen something. They weren’t smart enough to make up the story they had told him in excited whispers over breakfast. How they spied Mrs. Norris slink into a narrow passage on their way back from detention and followed her into a part of the castle they’d never been to before. How they had to hide when Filch appeared out of nowhere. How they saw a door open and close like someone invisible was passing through it. And behind the door, something worth giving each other a black eye, and another week of detention.
Continue reading Draco Malfoy and the Mirror of Erised
My first Harry Potter fic is, of course, all about Draco Malfoy. I’ve fallen in love with these two by reading other people’s fic, and with this, I hope to give a little something back. 💝
Hidden behind the heavy oak door, Draco felt his upper arms gingerly. Mother had had a house elf heal the bruises with magic, but his flesh still held the memory of pain.
Read the story here, or on AO3.