Mercury

"No War but Class War"

Dramione & a drop of despair on the bedroom floor

“It didn’t work. I didn’t make it, Hermione. I was so weak… I despise myself” – his whisper was one of despair and pain. He was one of despair and pain.

Draco let out a loud sob and choked back a sob. Only hot tears poured from his eyes, soaking the hem of her nightgown.

Hermione tried not to look at his blood-soaked forearm. It was a terrible sight. Despite the meaning of the old mark on his arm, all Hermione felt was compassion.

The witch's warm fingers stroked his hair and then moved down to his shoulders. "I'm here. I'll always be here," she didn't say the words, but she put them into her touch. Draco leaned into her hand, absorbing the comfort of her presence.

An old mark, a reminder of a terrible past. A past that ended in redemption and forgiveness from others, but still demanded forgiveness from himself.

There are kittens and ducklings and puppies and baby newts.

There are raindrops on glass windows, there are lights flickering on wet ground, there are people holding hands

There is color and music, there is song, there is poetry, there are stories to be told, there is art to be made

There are words you don't understand and there are words you do, there are faces you find lovely no matter how often you see them

There are glances between friends telling inside jokes, kisses between lovers, nods and a smile of appreciation from a stranger you help

There is the warmth of a favorite mug. There is the bustling purpose of a growing garden. There is curiosity about the stars and the ocean, about blue whales and giraffes and lions, and about fleas and krill and mycorrhiza.