Happy, Free, Confused And Lonely At The Same Time💕

raise wa tanin ga ii PV 2 ✿

That Night   -  Annette Björk Swensson , 2021.

Swedish , b. 1956   -  

All truth has a price. He has paid with the realisation that the hissing snake on his forearm had finally reached his throat, injecting its venom into the bite. Draco is able to utter two curse words, which means he really does wish her dead. “Murderer,” it hisses at him every night on the mission. “Kill or they'll kill you.” He's in a theatre of the absurd. Where there are no rules or algorithms, sheer chaotic chaos. So a new principle is born in Draco's head. Fight or flight. Fight when they fight you. Flight when there's no other way out. Fight or flight or die. Fight or flight is the only right way out.

Chapter 6. Little innocenct lie of Prometheus.

On a January morning, Hermione wakes up not in her bed, but on a lonely island in the middle of the ocean. In this place, terrifying creatures are just one of the mystical mysteries she has to solve. Surrounded by best friends and longtime enemies, Granger tries to get off the island and find the answer to the question: how did they end up here?

This story is about love, choice and death.

Chapter 6.

On Tuesday he heads to the Ministry with a folder of papers, hoping to coordinate with the Chosen One to transport a large sum of Lovegoods to a seed supplier the next day. Running into the elevator at the last second, Draco freezes—Granger is running her eyes over the lines in a book, leaning against the wall. If the titillation and this talmud are on the scales, the latter will outweigh. All the signs are there: burning eyes and a bitten lip—she is much more interested in the book than in what is happening in the elevator. Her curly mane touches the middle of her back and her snub nose, kissed by freckles, wrinkles. Her appearance has taken on hard and harsh features, but that doesn't spoil it, rather gives her a certain stateliness. Draco looks at her with different eyes now. Without prejudice. It's a strange unfamiliar feeling to him, new. Draco recalls his mother's highlighted profile behind a veil of blonde silk hair. He looks away, worth her raising her eyes. Heat steals up his arms and rushes to his face. It's his first positive physical sensation after a period of apathy in a long time. Back home that evening, he pulls out a notebook and makes a little sketch. Thus begins his obsession, and alas, he has no control over it. All his days seem to come down to those three minutes in the elevator with Granger. There are one hundred and eighty seconds in three minutes, and he savours each one, feeling confusion and a tickling warmth in his stomach. For the first time in two years, life is warming in his lungs. Who would have thought he would be so driven by the nerd he hated in school.

She's convincing more herself than him. Both of them realize this, and it doesn't make Hermione feel any better. If she gives in to him now, they'll be dealing with the consequences for a very long time.

“Malfoy, don't.”

“Granger," he said hoarsely, then rubbed his nose against her cheekbone. “Granger, shut up, okay?”

What?

“Oh, screw you, you smug asshole. If you think you can go around telling me wha..." He kisses her, not letting her finish her sentence. And there's nothing tender or innocent or insecure about this kiss. It's not short, it's not rushed, it's not stolen like the last time. Malfoy pounces on her as if stealing her own desperation. Forcefully he presses his tongue over her lips, forcing her mouth to open.

As his tongue interwines with hers, caressing and trying to find the right rhythm, Hermione refuses to think. Her body melts.

Wings, Ink, Love.