3. Gigantic Celebration: authors rec themselves as compiled by kaalee.
4. I failed utterly at drabblin' fer queerditch_pub tonight, but that be on accoun' o' th' Harry/Neo story I be writin' fer tipgardner; it has eaten me brain. Well, at first I be sea sick an' feverish an' then th' fic ate me brain. Aye, I be goin' t' sit on 't fer a couple o' days an' be seein' if 't still makes sense after I nay longer be havin' a fever.
Harry/Draco: Knee-high fuck me boots on either
"What the fuck are you wearing, Potter?"
"Don't you like them?"
"They're women's boots, Potter. Of course I dont like them. I don't like women."
"You have no sense of adventure."
"Tell me, Potter. What sort of adventures can one have with women's footwear?"
"Let me show you, instead."
Harry/Draco: Dress robes
Harry pressed the tips of his fingers to the dark velvet and rubbed gently.
"These? Ridiculous. Velvet's been out of style since our fourth year. Honestly."
"I like them."
"Is that why you spent more time ogling me at the Yule Ball than you did your date? What was her name? Parvosomething."
Harry flushes. "Parvati, and I was looking at Cho Chang. Who happened to be dancing with Cedric Diggory right next to you and Parkinson."
The mention of Cedric's death weighs heavily between them, because it means every other death, too.
Harry took a deep breath through his nose and touched Draco's hand.
"Don't, Harry. I don't like that."
"What, me touching your hands?"
"Your hands are too warm. They remind me-- never mind."
Draco turns away, a shadow of worry behind his smirk.
Harry couldn't look at Draco's face.
"Why won't you look at me?"
Harry breathes deep, one-two-three, this is not going to work. "Because they know where you are and it's my fault."
They're quiet, too quiet, for too long.
Harry took one last look at Draco and turned on his heel.
"I'm done," he said to the undertaker. He didn't want to be there when the coffin was closed. There would be no goodbye for him.
ETA: Thanks t' eye_knead_name fer th' handy Buccanneer translator.