Hannah 𓍝

I think once people know the truth they will be much more interested in my wife.

The sweet paralysis was coming over him again, of not wanting to move, of lightness in his veins, of limbs feeling weightless and eyelids feeling heavy. He wanted to put his chin where her neck met her shoulder and just stand there. He wanted to say things in her ear and feel her shiver against him. He wanted to linger here, being stupid about kiwi, for an age or two. He wanted to float.

It was the wine, certainly. And the artichokes.

They moved to the next roses, small wild things that grew in bunches and smelled like vetiver. Granger asked if she might pick one. Draco did so for her; it seemed ungentlemanly not to. And he gave it to her, his arm wrapped around her from behind, and their fingertips touched, and that was as close as they could get – touching fingertips over a rose.

She looked over her shoulder at him to say thank you, and their eyes met, and hers were dark and curious and his were light and keen, and it was universes colliding. It was all of those contrapositions of Light and Dark and Muggle-born and Pure-blood and Order and Death Eater and terrible incompatibility after terrible incompatibility. The violent polarities that made them who they were.

They fell into each other a bit, in that moment of collision, a bit drunk, a bit soul-tangled.

She slid the rose into her hair and turned away.

from Chapter 17 of Draco Malfoy and the Mortifying Ordeal of Being in Love by isthisselfcare.

I would die for a ballet dramione fanfic!

(if you have some don't be shy to leave recommendations !)

Draco and Hermione