Pairing - Jaskirat Singh Rangi x OC

Also special thank you to @vienna-awaits-me for giving me this idea while we were discussing fan theories about Hamza's past. You'd said something seeing Pshyco in his eyes and let's say, that gave me some ideas. None of that is in this chapter yet but you'll see aage. 🙈🤭

I've edited this way too many times and I'm sorry if I've missed something.

Have at it, besties!

Sempiterno

Playlist

Chapter 1

May 2002, Jessie - Age 20

They say marriages are made in heaven. When the Priest announces a couple as man and wife, it's supposed to tie them in holy union for life. It's supposed to make them a part of a beautiful thing that makes their life better. A family. A home. A husband, wife and kids. or so they say. 

Then what happened to my parents? I have no idea how or when they reached this stage but here I am. Standing at a paralysing crossroad in my life, feeling the Bombay breeze on my face from the balcony while my mother cries in her room because the man she thought she would be sharing her whole life with, loved his country and honour more. 

My parents might look like the perfect couple and my Mumma might be the most liked personality of the Army Wives Association but what hides behind the reality is a secret known to only a few people. People I can count on my fingers. 

My Mumma was an only child raised by a single mother. Her mother, my Nani, Insiya Ismail, had left her a fortune in the form of an ancestral kothi in a small village on the outskirts of Ludhiana in Malwa, Punjab. Nani had made my mother promise that no matter what, she would never sell the Kothi. 

My Nani had belonged to Lahore, and at the ripe age of 19 she had eloped with a young army man from Malwa, Punjab and settled with him. My Nanaji had been her childhood friend who had moved to Punjab at the time of the partition. Despite being separated by a border and different nationalities, their love had blossomed through letters. 

Together, they had created a beautiful home. After that my Nani and her neighbouring best friend, Balwinder aka Babli, with their secret recipes of achaars and masalas had earned a fortune of their own. If being a self made local entrepreneur was a win in life, Nani’s defeat came when she lost her husband in the Sino Indian war of 1962. Mumma had merely been a two year old baby when he passed away. 

My mother had wanted to become a teacher. When she told my Nani that she wanted to go to Bombay to study, all hell had broken loose. My Nani had used every trick in the book to stop her. But Mumma being Mumma had promised Nani to give her two years. That if she topped her class in every exam in college, Nani would have to let her stay. Nani’s best friend and business partner, Babli, and her daughter Jasleen had done their best to make Nani understand that it will be a good opportunity for my Mumma. 

That was all Mumma had needed. The woman had joined the NCC the minute she registered for her Arts degree in Bombay University. After that Mumma had not once looked up, she would spend the wee hours of the mornings in NCC parades, her mornings attending classes and afternoons in any and every credit earning activity she could participate in. Her best friend Jasleen would constantly stay in touch with her, updating her about everything happening in their village; from Nani's business, her health, Jasleen’s newfound interest in stitching salwar suits, to just about everything.

When Nani had seen Mumma’s gleaming passing certificate, she had hugged Mumma to her bosom and told her not to show her face before completing her entire degree and passing with flying colours. Mumma and her friend Jasleen had spent the night secretly polishing off Jasleen's father's favourite bottle of brandy. 

I had heard my mom tell her friends at the association that my dad had chased her for almost 3 years since her first year of degree. She'd said yes after a long time of making him wait. And when they had finally started a relationship, it hadn't taken them more than a few months to get married. My mom said they were intoxicated but I knew they were blinded. Blinded by this thing called love which didn't let them realise who the person was beyond what they were presenting. Maybe they truly were in love with each other but it went up in the air somewhere along the way.

I wish I could tell you more about my Mumma Papa but it hurts to recollect such a beautiful love story knowing how terribly it unfolded later. 

Ever since I could remember, I had only seen my parents fight. For however long, my father would be home, which wasn't much in the first place, all they did was remind each other how much they couldn't tolerate the other.

Every summer vacation, The D'mellos, that is me and my family, visited different states of India. All these trips started with my father meticulously planning every step and ended with us having a completely different path which my mother would come up on a whimsy. Not to be biased but I loved her way more. So did Joel. But my father? He was a different story.

My father, Brigadier Daniel D’mello, is a control freak, no surprises there, right? So much so that the man wanted his wife and kids to obey everything he said like cute little dogs who never questioned their master. But did he do anything to deserve that? Absolutely not.

He would randomly scream at the housekeepers for small specks of dust, crib about how ‘none of the idiots know how to do their jobs’ and would warn us to keep an eye on them lest they steal anything because, ‘that's how these people are,’ and way too many things which would put an army officer to shame for being associated with it. 

Then there was my mother. Mrs Amrita Dhillon D'mello. My father seemed to have made it his personal mission to remind my mother at every turn that she was a failure. As a wife, as a mother, as well as a human being. 

Some part of her still kept waiting for the younger version of him to show up. The one that had declared his love for her in front of her entire college. The man that had promised to love her all her life. And we kids also kept waiting for our father to remember that he'd given birth to us and that he had a duty towards us. If not love, if not affection or responsibility then at least the bare minimum of being around the house. In the presence of his own children.

That day never came. And for everyday it didn't, I promised to myself that I'd never get caught in this trap called love. Never let a man drag me down to such an extent that I lose every part of myself. 

Summer of 88. Jessie - Age 8.

It was the summer of 1988, when my mother chose Ludhiana as our destination. My father who was a Major back then had declared that he would not be making any itinerary to spend time around there, which my mother was more than happy to hear. She'd told us all about the kothi she grew up in. The friends she played with. Her neighbours, the fields. The woman hadn't stopped talking and by now, we knew every little thing about her house. From her childhood friend Jasleen, her secret hiding spots from her mother's scolding, the tree that was once struck by lightning etc.

The two day long train ride on the Frontier Mail was filled with my brother and I fighting over who got to read the latest edition of the Archies comics first. My brother, Joel, was insufferable but he was my twin after all and younger by a minute so I had to be the understanding big sister. I handed him the comic but not before swatting him on the back of his head. We'd gotten into a shoving match on the berth of the first class coach and only stopped when Pappa gave us the stink eye. 

The minute we got down at Ludhiana Junction, my nerves were out of control. I'd been bouncing on my heels. My father had gotten our Hindustan Ambassador along with all the stuff we'd need in advance via train two weeks ago as a Vehicle Parcel. He had asked to get it stored at the Ludhiana Cantonment so we could pick it up on the day of arrival. 

As the car drove through the city, I kept looking out the window and giggling every few minutes. And giggled some more when I saw my mumma do the same. 

For all his pretence of not being excited, Joel looked like a loon who had plastered a constant smile on his face. He silently kept asking Mumma questions while my chatterbox mouth would not stop running. 

Dad was being Dad and did not say a word except for grumbling when Mumma or I laughed too loudly or Joel got his feet up on the seat. His eyes stayed glued on the road at all times. Soon we had traded the city roads with mud roads and fields on every side. After a point, my excitement had also dwindled and I didn't realise when my eyes fell shut. 

When I woke up, it was because Joel was poking my cheek and blowing raspberries on my face. "Let's go, Jessie. We've reached." 

"Call me Didi, you brat! I'm older than you!" I called after him, as Joel ran out of the car. 

"I won't, Jessie Bessie. You're just a minute old"

"Ughhhhhhh," Brothers, I tell you. 

Mumma and Papa were getting our bags out as I got out. I was surprised to see that the big doors of the Kothi did not have a lock. The first thing you could see upon entering was the vast courtyard. From there you could see into the huge kitchen on the left.There was a small tap right below the kitchen window and a small square space made out of concrete to emphasize a space to wash one's feet. 

There were multiple rooms surrounding the courtyard. I took in the beauty of the old house and I saw a tear on my Mumma's cheek which she wiped with the pallu of her cream and brown saree with prancing deers on the fabric.

As Joel ran around the house, through the multiple doors and up and down the stairs near the far right of the courtyard, I went to Mumma and hugged her in the middle. I could tell when my Mumma was sad, happy, angry among other things. But right now, she looked like she needed a hug. So here I was. 

But I didn't need to be there. A melodious voice erupted the quietness of the courtyard. I saw the way my father's head swiveled and he almost grimaced but pulled himself together. 

"Amuuuuuu!!!" 

A woman of my mother's age walked in from the front door, wearing a pastel pink cotton salwar suit holding hands with a chubby little girl wearing a cotton green frock and small ponytail on her head. 

Then I saw something I’d never seen before. My mother, sociology professor, Mrs Amrita Dhillon D'mello who was famous for shutting someone up with just a look, was screaming on top of her lungs, her curly hair bouncing around. The little girl with the woman didn't seem surprised. In fact she also started jumping and dancing around them while both the women were giggling and talking over each other, looking more like little girls than women. Mumma bent down and took the girl's face in her hands and kissed her forehead, then her cheek, her eyes making the little girl giggle.

I could see both the women looking at each other with eyes full of tears and pulling each other into hugs every few seconds. The girl looked at them with confused eyes not understanding why they were crying when they'd been jumping with joy a few minutes back.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jaskirat had spent the past three days roaming around this kothi and helping his mother clean it up, while his sister, Harleen, ran around the house asking him to play with her. They had dusted the place, gotten rid of the cobwebs, washed away the grit and dirt from tables and kitchen counters. His father had joined them in between intervals, bringing lunch for them. The four of them would eat on the dining table of the Dhillon kothi while Jassi wondered whether the actual owners of the house would make even a smidgen of effort to take care of this kothi like his mother had done today.

It's not like Jassi had never been here before. When he was done helping Bebe around the house, he'd climb the tall peepal tree behind the kothi and jump over the fence. After that it was an easy drop using the thick vines that hung from the trees. He'd spent hours exploring the gigantic kothi and its dark corners. Days when he didn't have school or didn't feel like doing anything, he'd weasel into the Kothi and run around the house, sometimes play with the ancient guns and pretend that he was a soldier secretly living in the trenches. 

It was the most fun part of his day. It made him feel like he was doing something rather than wasting his time with the boys of the Pind who would stand and catcall girls. Jassi couldn’t find the joy in that. It would’ve been more interesting if the girls had a gun or if they could run up to the boys and slap them hard. He would enjoy seeing who would overpower who. 

There were times when he'd fallen asleep on the cot in the courtyard and woken up to Harleen poking his face to wake him up. Like her brother, she had also learned the art of sneaking into the kothi through the letter patches in the door. There was something about this house, the place, the cot. All of it acted like the best drug in the world and put him to sleep. 

Being in the outside world was too much and too boring at the same time. Jassi would lose his time fixating on every tiny little thing going around in the world. His skin would scream at him if one of the older boys from the neighbourhood held him by the shoulder. But he would never scream or cry about it. He would wait. He would wait till the boys’ mothers had left. Then he’d throw a pointy stone under their feet making those boys gasp or trip them.

They'd spent the whole week making this place shine and while that happened, Jassi felt his heart sink and shrivel as the traces of his familiarity with the house disappeared with every sweep, with every rub of a washcloth. He spent the week secretly not liking these new guests that were about to come live beside them. 

Besides, who did these Bambai people think they were, calling and asking his mother to get their Kothi ready for them. Well they hadn’t said anything as far as he remembered but his Bebe had been so over the moon that there was no stopping her from wanting to make sure that the house was livable.

Jassi stood at the door with his screaming bebe and her screaming friend blocking his path while Harleen jumped and wiggled, asking both the women to pick her up. Bebe picked her up and transferred her into the arms of her friend who bounced her and spun in a circle making her giggle. Watching that Jassi's dislike for the Bambai people reduced just a fraction. 

With the two women and his sister blocking his path, all he could see was sky blue shoes clad feet dangling from the same cot that was his. Jassi wanted to go there and ask the person to move away. That it was his. 

Then his bebe moved and he could see the intruder sitting on his cot.

Sky blue shoes that looked like something a cartoon would wear. A matching... Dress? That was a top but were pants too? And they had straps that were connected by buttons. Her hair was more brown than black, a long film of straight brown tresses that could pass off as fabric and reached just above her elbow. She had a thin sky blue plastic band wrapped around her head. 

And her eyes.

Her eyes reminded him of the soil in their khet. The soil that sprouted seeds and gave them life source. Her eyes seem to be doing the same thing. He wanted to not like her. Wanted to send her back and take control of his secret fort but her eyes had seemed to lock him in. The place seemed brighter. Even brighter than when he had cleaned and scrubbed it with his bebe.

"Jassi,"

"Jassi," 

"Jassi!" 

Jassi looked back at his bebe who was still holding hands with her friend. He had spent the entire week hearing about Amu or Amrita Maasi. His mother's childhood friend. The friend who never forgot her no matter how far she was. 

"Sat sri akal, Maasi," said Jassi as he leaned forward and touched her feet. 

"Jionda reh, puttar," the woman pressed her hand on his head like his mother. With lightness that rivalled a feather but the weight of something invisible. Then she turned to the girl on the cot and said, "Seekho kuch," 

Jassi realised that the girl had been sitting there with a boy her age. He had a round face and hair that had been slicked back and seemed to be shining in the sun. If Jassi were to touch his hair, he might get grease on his hands, or whatever it was that he had lathered on his head. 

"Seekho what, Mumma?" 

"This, my love, is called peri pauna. Par mein to tumhe sikhaana hi bhul gayi." 

"Offo, Mumma. You want me to touch your feet?" The girl got off the cot, walked towards her mom, bent down and laughed as she tickled her mother's feet. She stood up and began dodging her mothers hand that hovered in the hair to playfully whack her. 

While the girl floated and jumped from feet to feet like an air borne kite, the boy who seemed to be her brother, stood there like a statue. The girl had truly blinded him because now that he looked around, Jassi realised that there was a man in the room too. He didn't like this. He always knew when there were strangers around. 

The man wore a pair of shirt and pants that were a pale blue in colour. The shirt had four huge pockets in the front and despite him not wearing a magicians hat or coat, Jassi thought he might start pulling pigeons out of his pockets. Jassi vaguely remembered his mother telling him how men in the city dressed in something called Safari suits. There was a golden pen hanging from his breast pocket that shone in the daylight making Jassi squint. And he too had his hair slicked back like his son. 

He looked up at the face of the man only to realise the man had had brown eyes that could scan humans. Jassi felt the man's eye roam over him, taking in his almost dishevelled patka, the smudges on his kurta, the ripped pocket on his chest that hung like a flag, the cow dung stain on his left leg and his feet that were caked in dried mud. 

The man seemed to be looking down from his nose at Jassi as if he was silently asking him how a village boy could stand in front of someone so polished. Jassi wanted to show him just exactly how and why he deserved it when his thought was broken. Something, or rather someone, rammed into him making him lose balance and banging into his Bebe's stomach taking Harleen with him. Bebe made an oomph sound at the contact and Jassi wanted to get his hands on something to hurl it at someone. Had it been the slick haired brat who had pushed him? He would make sure his head was covered in cow dung before the end of the day. 

As Jassi stood up and helped Harleen get up, he heard a shrill ear shattering scream.

"Jessica Stella D'mello!" roared his mother's friend. "Come back here and apologize to Jasleen Maasi." 

The girl who had been laughing a few minutes back, rushed back and stood in front of him looking over to his bebe.

"Sorry. Jasleen Maasi, galti ho gayi," Jassi frowned hearing the weirdly accented hindi. While Amrita Maasi still had the Punjabi taste to her words, the girl sounded like she could be a Gori mem. Jassi didn’t know why but he couldn't bring himself to get back the red anger he'd mustered.

"Koi baat nahi, baccha. Bas sambhal ke khelo. Theeke?" said Jasleen. 

The girl, Jessica, nodded her head as she looked on with eyes full of guilt but a small smile on her lips. Then she looked down at Harleen and her face split into a beaming grin. She went down on one knee and looked at Harleen who seemed to look enamored by the Gori mem.

“I'm so sorry, baby. Aapka naam kya hai?”

“Mela naam baby nahi ae. Mela naam Hallen ae.” 

“Sorry, Harleen. I'm Jessie. Jessica.”

“Jessie ya Jessica?” Asked the girl. 

“Jessie.” clarified the girl. 

“Jessie,” said Harleen pointing at her. Then she pointed at her brother and said, “Jassi!” Harleen giggled as if she'd said the funniest joke of the year pulling a smile out of Jassi.

"Mein aapke mummy papa ko ghar dikhati hu. Aap Jassi ke saath jao,” Jasleen said to the kids. “Wo aapko humara pind dikhayega."

What? Show these alien kids around his pind. Their expensive clothes were probably never touched by any form of dirt and they'd start crying the minute a bug climbs their leg.

Before Jassi could even try to verbalise, the man beat him to it.

"No. No. No. What are you saying? Let them run around in the soil? And come back covered in all that? I will not be encouraging this uncivilized behaviour.

Everything in Jassi quietened at the tone in which the man was speaking to his mother. 

"Mitti hi toh hai, bhaisahab. Kuch nahi hoga unhe. Hum bhi toh yehi bade hue hai. Safe rahenge, bacche." 

"Dekhiye, Bhabhi," started the girls father "I'm not --"

Jassi was about to open his mouth to cross the man when he heard another voice coming in. 

“There's nothing in the fields other than crops and fresh air. Do you want them to forever suffocate in Bombay’s pollution or the four walls of your house all their life, Major Daniel?” 

"Amrita, you don't –”

"Aap ghabraaiye mat uncleji." interrupted Jassi. His voice smooth as the butter he had eaten this morning "Main rahunga na unke saath. Agar zyada dar gaye toh usi waqt leke aaunga. Zyada se zyada aadhe ghante me waapis aa jayenge.” 

Joel looked at him as if he'd just said that he wanted to go out and murder cats and Jassi wanted to laugh at his expression. But the girl, Jessie? She looked at him with a mixture of such disbelief and awe, Jassi didn't know whether she wanted to whack him or smile at him. 

Before her father could protest any more, the girl held her brother by the arm and ushered him outside while saying a "bye Mumma". Jassi followed them with a last look to his bebe who winked at him. He paced up and caught up with Harleen who had a habit of shooting off at random times. 

The moment they stepped out of the huge main doors and walked away from the rustic patio, the sunlight hit their faces. 

"I think you guys should go ahead," said Joel. 

“Bhaiya, dar gaye,” giggled Harleen. 

"Wait, what? Joel, come on. You don't wanna lose out on this. Plus we've got a cracking tour guide. It'll be fun."

"Mein tour guide nahi hu," Jassi found himself saying. He might not be learning English at school like them but he knew what a tour guide was. His bebe might be happy readying the house and cooking meals for them but he was nobody's boy. 

"Right. I'm sorry, Jassi," 

"Jaskirat." He told her. "Jaskirat Singh Rangi. Mujhe sirf meri bebe Jassi bulaati hain." 

That definitely wasn't the truth but he wasn't going to let these city kids think of him as a free tour guide or some village bumpkin. 

“Aur me bhi bulaati hu, Veelji!” Harleen piped in, making Jessie giggle.

“Haa Veera, tu bhi bulaati hai!” 

"Sorry. Jaskirat." Jessie corrected herself. "But you can't call me Jessica. I hate the name. Makes me sound like an old lady. Jessie is fine, okay? And this is my brother Joel. We're twins but we don't look like twins, do we?"

"Matlab Judwa?" Jassi clarified, having only understood because the girl had held her brother’s jaw in one hand and aligned their faces side by side to compare. 

Why did they speak in such khatakhat English? Didn't they get tired? 

"Yes!" said Jessie. 

"Tumlog angrezon ke school me jaate ho?" 

"Uhmm. You mean the medium? It's an angrezi medium school, yes." 

"To tumhare teachers sab firangi hai?" 

"Nahi. Nahi. They're all.. uh... Yehi se.. as in.. Indians."

'Angrez chale gaye aulaad chod gaye,' thought Jassi. 

"Jessie. This is incredibly stupid. I'm turning red in this heat and I'll definitely faint if I don't go inside." 

“Dekha? Maine kaha tha na. Zyada se zyada aadha ghanta.” commented Jassi on the boy's whining.

“Oh stop it. He's gonna be fine. Mujhe pata hai tumne papa ko kya bola. Tumhe lagta hai ki hum darke bhaag jayenge. Meri Hindi kaisi bhi ho but me samajhti hu,” accused Jessie. Then to her brother, she said, “Come on, Joel. It's so pleasant. There's no traffic horns and 100 people talking all together.” 

Jassi couldn't help but smile at the city girl's bark. He'd love to see if it was all bark or whether there was any bite to it. 

Seeing her brother's distressed face, Jessie held him by the shoulders and said, "Breathe for me, love." Her mother would do it when any of them were scared. 

Joel looked at his sister and repeated her breaths. After a minute or two he extracted himself from her arms and breathed out. 

"Alright, I'm ready," he said.

"Chale, Jaskirat?" asked Jessie. 

"Isse beech raaste me chakkar aa gaye toh?" 

"He won't faint, Jaskirat. Relax."

“Bhaiya gir gaye toh me utha lungi,” said Harleen. 

Jassi could only shrug and nod. He had to show them how amazing and fun his pind was. Way better than whatever gardens they had in Bambai. And see if they could survive his pind for even a day.

The kids walked around the khets with Jassi and Harleen at the front and the D'mello siblings following him. Every five minutes, they would have a question which Jessie would start in English and then try to frame it in Hindi. Jassi tried his best to answer while Harleen chimed with her own answers about secret hiding places and her favourite trees to sit beneath even though 80% of the collective words they both said went over their heads. 

But laughter didn't have a language. Jessi and Jassi almost toppled over laughing when Joel screamed as a small bug found its way on his knee length socks. Jessi also screamed when she got too near to a cow and it mooed right in her ear. Harleen hid beneath a huge chunk of dried grass and roared at everyone. And Jassi couldn't help but laugh at how the city kids tried their best to keep up with the Rangi siblings. 

They had scrunched their noses when they had entered the cow sheds but despite all that they had the happiest smiles on their faces. 

Jassi dipped his hand in the square open ended tank and threw some water at the siblings. Their gasps were nothing short of comical. 

"Did you just splash me with water? I'm wearing a linen shirt! Jesus Christ!” whined Joel. “Wasn't the cow drinking this water, Jessie? Brilliant. Now I have cow saliva on me." 

Despite all his outrage, Joel had dipped his hand in the same water and splashed Jassi with it. That started a water fight and to join in the fun, Jessie and Harleen picked some dried grass and started throwing it on the boys. 

When the fight had died down, the kids were lying on a spread out stack of dried grass. Jessie's sky blue corduroy dungaree was wet in places, covered in dirt, her socks looked more brown than white and she was 100% sure that speck on her Mary Janes was cow dung. Gone was the ironing on Joel's linen button down and he was 100% sure his hair was now 20% Brylcreem and 80% dried grass sticking to the Brylcreem. 

Jessi suddenly missed her snow white Lab, Ruby, who dad had refused to take on the flight. Mumma had suggested that someone could bring Ruby with them if they traveled to Punjab by road. Jessie wished that her dad's friend Major Khan would drive quickly so she could get Ruby to join in on the fun too. 

Jassi looked at the kids and their messy hair and dishevelled clothes. They looked like they'd rolled into the mud the entire day like the dogs in his pind. They looked messy and misaligned, their prim and proper city manners nowhere to be seen and they finally looked as if they belonged on the soil of his pind.

When they'd first set out, Jassi had sneaked behind Joel and placed a big peepal leaf near his ear making the boy let out a sound that was somewhat between a shriek and a sob. Jassi wasn't able to help the laughter that had escaped him at the boy's pathetic whimpering as he swatted at his ear, thinking it was a bug. Jessie, who had been hunched over him, checking if he was okay, had swung her head and given Jassi a look so vicious, his laughter had died down abruptly. 

As much as he had wanted to see the siblings slipping over the mud and jumping ten feet into the air, that look had put a stop to that. After that he couldn't bring himself to do anything. And he was glad he didn't. Seeing them happy as they took everything in was even better. Seeing the twins and Harleen laughing and giggling at the smallest of things made him not want to do any funny business. In fact he wanted to show them even more things. Make them laugh more. And if he met some kids from his school who saw the siblings and wanted to have some fun, he'd show them what would happen if they were to mess with Rangis’ guests. 

Jassi had absolutely no clue what to do with this heavy and hot feeling in his chest. He'd been mad that the D’mellos had encroached on his fortress. But right now seeing them like this, he was okay not having the Kothi as long as they were belly laughing on the floor of his cowshed. 

Illustration inspired by greenflowerpot's WIP Castle Guard. It's a classic fairytale princess and her royal guard romance that's got me eager for more.

Just a girl in love trying some muggle makeup and some new beauty charms.

a very lionheart winter, as told through insta stories.

"Wait and Hope" by @mightbewriting

This was the first Dramione fic I found at random and gave a try. It wasn't even a ship i considered before, but I've been aboard it ever since. "Wait and Hope" is forever in my top ten.

Did this boy have a choice?

It’s a tragic scene when childhood ends. When there is no more peace

Durmstrang Draco and Beauxbatons Hermione ♥️🦋

Fanart for the ever eloquent @greenerteacups!! I read the latest chapter and I was simply just struck with inspiration. The angst. THE CLASH BETWEEN CONFLICTING IDEAS. ITS THE CULMINATION GUYS! WE'RE AT THE TIPPING POINT; UGH.

I can make a whole ten page essay Abt The Effect that this Fanfic Has On Me. I settled for painting instead bc of exams. Anyways, read Lionheart ppl. Best decision you can ever make.

Lionheart Covers!

Those masks are charmed so they wouldn’t know who the other person is.

Happy new year Dramione fam! I wish you all the best this 2025.