oozey mess
if i look back, i am lost
almost home
★
ellievsbear
Sweet Seals For You, Always
RMH
One Nice Bug Per Day
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
noise dept.
Monterey Bay Aquarium
sheepfilms
Misplaced Lens Cap
AnasAbdin
$LAYYYTER
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
pixel skylines
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@mugglebrn
#MUGGLEBRN. an indie, low activity & mutuals only portrayal of hermione granger of the wizarding world by kalila (she/her, 30, gmt) anti jkr. i'm officially stealing hermione from her
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the comical part of this all was that the freckles on granger's face, while clearly the constellation of his namesake, was just a mark. a simple sign from the universe to the black family bloodline that held no true magic or compulsion on the wearer or himself. it was merely a hint that if the stars aligned, this person would make a good match. any feelings or otherwise was all genuine — his mother assured him as much. granger's tirade on her supposedly cursed feelings for him was all her whether she was aware of it or not. clearly not, and draco was eating up every second of it. karma, really, as granger ate all his breakfast.
"interesting," draco hums, nodding slowly. he offers no reassurance or explanation to her woes as he's much too preoccupied with the fact that hermione granger was admitting to having a crush on him. a debilitating, crippling crush on him. it was cute how troubled she was over it. "and these dreams of yours," draco begins, his lips quirking. the pointed finger, while accusatory and threatening, does nothing to discourage the cheek in his tone. "do you wake up hot and bothered? or are we doing something mundane like organizing your quill collection? ... actually, the latter probably makes you hot and bothered too, doesn't it?"
It's perhaps the worst possible question he could ask and her face flames, cheeks darkening incriminatingly. Hermione feels herself falter, her eyes dropping momentarily to the delectable curve of his lips, the top ever so slightly more pillowy thas the lower. Something her dream self had recognised before her conscious self had and her heart thrums as she recalls the way he'd wet them with his tongue before lowering them to press reverent kisses upon her inner thigh.
Hermione shakes herself out of it with a jolt, the desk behind her scraping loudly on dusty stone flooring as she knocks into it on her attempt to physically distance herself from the dream. Eyes fly up to meet his again and she's glad he looks so infuriatingly smug so that she doesn't get lost in them as well.
A scoff tears it's way up her throat, perhaps a bit extra put on as she tries to recover from what he'd certainly seen in her face. "It hardly matters. It's all magic-induced nonsense. Nothing but the same artificial sentiments brought on by a love potion," she'd not feel ashamed for feeling something that was against her will.
"Tell me how to make it stop. I'll burn the bloody freckles off my face if I have to."
[ BLOODLUST ] the sender has gone too long without feeding, base instincts taking over, the receiver finds them.
She's never feared him before. Despite the objective danger somebody like him poses to somebody like her, she's never been afraid of him. He's always been measured and controlled, even when he claims he's not. Hermione trusts him more than he trusts himself on most days and never once has she felt genuine fear around him (foolish some might say considering she's learned he'd only gotten close to her in the beginning with the express purpose of having her for dinner).
She fears him now. She fears him because she doesn't see him in the preternatural glow of his eyes. There's no warmth or recognition in them, just savage animal instinct. A predator locked in on it's prey.
He moves slowly, the liquid grace of a hunter closing in until he's pressed against her, head ducking to the crook of her neck and inhaling deeply. Hermione stays as still as possible, eyes bouncing around the room over his shoulder, looking for an out, searching for anything to help. She cannot help but tremble, her breath catching as he inhales against right against her jugular which pulses loudly with evidence of her racing heart. "Draco..." she whispers pleadingly into his hair, the fine strands tickling at her nose. His lips brush her neck, a sensation that could almost be comforting in it's familiarity if it weren't for the scrape of fangs that accompany it. He doesn't break skin, and she's not sure if it's because the beast within is drawing it out, or because he's in there holding it back. "Please..."
it's almost sad how easy this was for him. hermione didn't really stand much of a chance — she must have known that when she agreed to play against him. it's akin to robbing a small, defenceless child and yet draco was beaming with delight as more and more cups vanished on her end.
but draco wasn't that cruel. if only to grind his girlfriend's gears further ( because of course she'd know he's flubbing it on purpose ), draco tosses the ball further to the left, perfectly aiming for the rim of a cup. he misses for the first time, making quite the scene by throwing up his hands and loudly exclaiming an "ah, shit."
but he's clearly not disappointed at all. he's grinning from cheek to cheek as he lifts his half-full cup to his lips. if there's one thing draco knows about hermione granger, is that she'll take his pity turn as an absolute offence to her abilities ( which were a crime in itself ) and draco will take every huff and puff and scathing glare with the utmost joy. hermione was an absolute sight when she was tense.
The only thing she loathes more than showboating is a pity concession. And if the grin on his face is anything to go by, he knows that all too well. She doesn't need his pity, and the offence is taken without a shred of good nature as she snatches up one of the spare ping pong balls and pegs it, aiming for his face instead of the cups. And maybe it's just the right motivation she needs because it would have hit him square between the eyes if it weren't for his quidditch-honed reflexes.
Hermione hears another smart-arsed remark from Theo that earns him a flip of the bird and then she's taking her shot for real and missing. The shot rebounding off the edge.
It isn't until three more throws from each of them that she finally gets one in (she'll say she was improving but really at some point it's just statistically impossible to miss every single time). She squeals in an entirely un-Hermione-like way, jumping up and down as if it were her winning shot and not simply the first one she'd managed to get in. And in that moment it doesn't matter that he's the enemy, she grins at him from across the table. Beer pong adversary though he may be, he's still the person she looks for to share in her every triumph.
there's a creeping moment where draco regrets following granger so blindly through the halls. never mind his past biases and prejudice, but to follow any witch who walked quickly ( loosely used — it seemed granger mastered the skill of running without truly running ) must have looked questionable. he was only glad the halls were essentially empty thanks to the general low attendance and the time of day.
granger's so far ahead of him that he's lucky his vision was up to par ( 18/20 if he was being truthful, but draco would not admit his perfect vision was deteriorating ). he sees granger turn into a classroom and he follows suit, a minute or two behind. the second he enters the classroom, he's immediately bombarded with a string of questions and revelations. his expression is a mixture of confusion and amusement. amusement, mainly, and it's clear on his face by the smug quirk of his lips and the glittering of his eyes.
"you can't stop thinking about me?" he asks, like that was the most important bit. it's easy to disregard granger's endless worries when the topic was of himself. "tell me, then. what about me plagues you?"
Hermione wonders if he was born this irritating or if it's an acquired trait. Probably a bit of both. Nature and nurture working sublimely in tandem to create it's most vexing masterpiece.
"Oh, like you don't know," she scoffs. He's the one privy to all the information about this archaic magic. He's the one with the answers. "Ever since you pointed out this," she gestures vaguely to her face though she doubts the freckles are even visible to him from across the room. " I've been utterly unable to concentrate on anything else." If she's honest with herself, Hermione would say that it had started long before the revelation. And if she's even more honest she'd realise that it makes no sense, those freckles had always been etched upon her skin, for as long as she could remember. And yet she'd never had any fixation on Malfoy before this year when they'd been forced to spend real, honest time together.
Logically it makes no sense. But fuck logic. He did this to her, she knows he did.
"I can't study. I can't eat. Merlin, I can't even sleep without you invading my dreams!" Hermione points an accusatory finger at him. "Your family did this to me, so you're going to undo it."
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the vexing look of success on granger's face only made draco's expression sour. never had he met someone as equally as stubborn as he was. was he this insufferable? surely not.
his right eye twitches at her words, but only because it was truly reminiscent of his adolescent years. maybe he had been this insufferable, which makes granger and her snappy remarks that much more vexing. he lets out a long, drawn-out sigh when granger gets up. for someone running on energy from his breakfast, she was far too chipper and energetic for his liking.
draco watches in disbelief as the witch walks away with no sign of doubt or hesitation that he'd follow along. he does, but only begrudgingly with his feet dragging and the occasional huff and puff. he would not run to catch up — that was where he drew the already thin line.
It's not until she's out the Great Hall that she realises she's not quite sure where they're going. With their penchant for arguing the library wouldn't work unless they fancied an earful from Pince. The astronomy tower was... loaded. And most of all, she wanted some version of privacy for this conversation. Despite her indecision, Hermione walks as if she knows exactly where she's going and is grateful when a last minute suggestion comes to mind. In the end she leads him to a dusty old classroom just down the hall from Transfiguration; with the abysmal number of students returning this year it'd fallen into disuse.
Hermione waltzes in as if she owns the place, heavy book dropped on on a desk crudely etched with the surname Slinkhard. He takes his sweet time and she waits with crossed arms, her foot tapping impatiently. When he finally enters she does think on commenting on the glacial pace at which he moves but she thinks that'll only give him some sick satisfaction so instead she jumps right into it.
"Right, tell me everything you know." She'd not been ready to hear it before, but it's proving an inevitability. "And how we get rid of it. I have N.E.W.T.s to study for, you know. I can't be wasting all my time thinking about you. I mean, really I should report your entire messed up family. If Amortentia is illegal I hardly think this... curse is above board." In fact she knew it wasn't. While there was no mention of any existence of a soul mark like the one on her cheek in any publication she'd gotten her hands on, there was a case of a wizard casting an experimental love spell on a witch; the only tell of it being the strawberry pink mark on her shoulder where the spell had struck. The wizarding world has long known that love cannot be fabricated and that any version of it would only be a dangerous perversion and he'd been appropriately punished. Malfoy's lucky she hadn't called the authorities on him for messing with her head like this.
“Glances” 📚
I felt like drawing something pretty.
antonia gentry as ginny miller ginny & georgia season 3 episode 3 (friends can dance)
draco knows how much these events mean to hermione. to make a difference in a person's life is hermione's ultimate dream and what better way than to show her support for people who are treated less than her? she'd first showed this side of herself in school with S.P.E.W and even though he hadn't believed in what she was doing at the time, it had surprised him to see ron being unsupportive of her. at the time he hadn't thought it was very gryffindor-like, but he knew now that people were more than just their houses.
reaching forwards, he takes hermione's hand in his and links their fingers together, his thumb brushing gently over her skin. "yeah, i'll go. thanks for inviting me. do i need to bring anything?"
It's still new. Brand new. Like, newborn baby new. A relationship in it's infancy stages. And one with Draco Malfoy of all people. So even though she's come to feel totally at ease with him, she can't help but second guess everything she does and says. What if she says something wrong and this thing crumbles before it even has a chance to get off the ground?
Coffee-hued eyes go from their joined hands to his face, and she breathes a sigh of relief as she sees the earnestness in the grey of his own eyes. "Just yourself and deep pockets?" she jokes with a half-arsed chuckle, fingers closing around his own as she steps in close. "There'll be a charity auction. I hope you like art."
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"i thought you lot were meant to be morally obligated to do the right thing?" draco responds, his grey eyes narrowing. isn't that what gryffindors were about? to be annoyingly self-righteous and chained to their moral compass? it's what irked draco about gryffindors in the past, but it seems if that case were true, he wouldn't be out of a piece of toast.
draco's mouth nearly drops open when granger takes his half-bitten sausage off his plate with her fingers like a complete animal. and like a cherry on top to the ungodly awful sight, granger stuffs her mouth with more of his toast! absolute blasphemy. "you ever heard of table manners, granger?" he scoffs, shaking his head like this entire scenario was of the worst offences anyone could make. "you win. i've lost my appetite thanks to your barbaric behaviour. if i get irritable later, just know it's all your fault."
Triumph. Sweet, sweet triumph.
Hermione grins (close-lipped because contrary to his belief she's not a complete barbarian and she draws the line at chewing with her mouth open), the waits until she swallows to reply to him with all the cheek she can muster. "Must be my uncivilised muggle upbringing." Something she can only say because she knows by now that he doesn't honestly believe that drivel, but some part of him did once and so she still likes to drive the point home occasionally.
One more bite and she finishes off the sausage, topping off the entire display by licking her fingers clean of the grease and plopping the half eaten slice of toast back onto his abandoned plate. "Right. Come on then." She bounces up, bringing her bag and book along with her as she walks out of the Great Hall without looking back, expecting he'll follow.
he should have known granger would take that as an invitation to sit down and watch him eat. ever the micromanager, honestly. it seems he couldn't escape it even as he ate. jokes on her — draco could eat as slow as irritatingly possible just for her benefit. he does so now, picking up his previously abandoned fork and its perfect bite. he draws the food to his mouth and chews slowly, his gaze equal parts mocking and innocent. it's only until granger reaches over and swipes a piece of toast from his plate does he frown. bested again at his own game.
"okay, well, you're welcome to eat breakfast off your own plate at your own table." draco huffs, akin to a small child who hadn't learned to share just yet. he makes a point of taking the other half of the toast and biting it. that'll repel her. "i'm sure they have just as good buttered bread over there."
Hermione would be more miffed about the glacial pace at which he eats if she didn't catch the spark of irritation in his eyes as she'd swiped the toast. Two could play at this game. And when it came to Malfoy, she'd gotten rather good at it. "See that's where you're wrong. It tastes all the better when it's stolen."
And to really drive the point home she also snatches his half-eaten sausage off his plate with her fingers (he'll call her a heathen for her callous disregard for silverware, she just knows it), and takes a bite, following it up with another mouthful of toast. If he's going to eat so slowly then she'll have to help him polish off his plate clearly.
a crushing sense of dread washes over him, cold and bitter and biting. the pull towards occlumency tugs, and it takes every ounce of his energy not to pull back. how easy and painless it would be to have his eyes glaze over, his mind shut down, and his body go numb. he wouldn't feel like she'd just reached into his chest, felt around for a red ball of mush, and yanked the beating organ out.
and yet, the distance hermione creates for them feels just as damning.
"don't?" he nearly spits. all the anger and frustration and confusion he's bottled up for months rises, and there's no stopping him now. the call for safety — to abide by her terms and forget his words ever slipped out of his mouth vanishes. hermione needed to know. if she was going to hurt him and cut him loose, she needed to know everything. squeeze every ounce of everything he's unknowingly given her and toss him aside. "don't say i stayed as long as i have for you? don't say i volunteered for those infiltration missions for you? don't say i haven't purposefully thrown myself into a curse to be rid of this world because i know how much it would hurt you?" draco's voice cracks. to him, this was the same as handing hermione his wand so she could do whatever she pleased to him. he was at her mercy whether they liked it or not.
It's strange now to think how much simpler things were when he hated her. He'd been a thorn in her side, for sure, but at least they'd known where they stood with each other. Ignorant to the tumultuous rollercoaster of emotions that was what they'd become. And still, Hermione knows that given her time again, she'd do it all the same. She'd have healed his wounds and plotted ways to get the mark off his arm whil sharing a bottle of god awful vodka. She'd have tried to help him with his mother. She'd have kissed him for the first time at the end of that battle and she'd have slipped into his room in the wee hours all over again. You could hand her a time turner with the opportunity to redo it all a thousand times over and she'd choose the same. Every time.
Because for all his talk of how irritatingly self-sacrificing she is, Hermione is incredibly selfish when it comes to him.
It's why she couldn't cast that spell and protect him like she did her parents. Why she spends her every night with her legs tangled in his even though she knows she's only dooming them more.
"How am I supposed to live with that?" she asks him, her tone pleading and salty tears streaming down her face. Nobody had ever warned her that love would hurt like this. "What am I supposed to do if anything happens to you? How am I supposed to how could I survive knowing it was my fault you stayed?" She's working herself up, teetering on the edge of a panic attack that's been overdue for days, building and building with every dead body. She's supposed to protect him. She can't do that if he's throwing himself into every fire they stumble upon just because he knows that's what she would do.
there are worst things than watching the witch he's come to care about in depths he can't verbalize or comprehend reduce him to the boy he once was and what everyone in the order anticipated he'd become, but in this moment, draco can't think of anything else. there's a bludgeoning ache in chest, directly atop his heart as hermione goes off on her string of tangents. all the reasons why they wouldn't work or shouldn't work. they've had this conversation before — draco's had no problem taking it in the past. absorbing her worries and sorrows and grief, carrying every bit of it on his shoulders like it weighed nothing.
but this? this was different. he knew it as soon as she'd flinched away from him, and it felt like his entire world was shattering and decaying around him. funny how it was the idea of losing hermione granger that would tip him over the edge, and not the war or the continuous danger his mother was in.
draco tries not to close off and shut down, intent on keeping his promise he'd made on a night opposite to this — a night where hermione had looked at him like he was worth something more than what the universe had decided for him. it was in exact opposition of how she was glaring at him now.
"you're an idiot for someone so smart." he bites out, his fists clenching and his jaw tightening and his heart sinking. the possibility that this could have all been one-sided dawns on him. maybe it had stayed as an escape for her. to dissociate and distract themselves from the war. only draco was a fool to not keep himself in check. it's a pill he can't — no, refuses to swallow. and in some stupid form of a hail mary, draco says, "you're irritating and stubborn and abrasive and you've embedded yourself into my skin, my veins, my soul... my heart. if i wanted to be rid of you, i would have left months ago before you could have had the fucking chance."
Four nights ago she'd woken up in a cold sweat, the images from her nightmare burned into her retinas as if they weren't just horrors her mind had conjured. Most night she wakes with a gasp or a scream. They all do. And they don't talk about it. Nightmares had become such a part of her nightly routine she barely consciously registers them anymore, but this one was different. This one had been so vivid she'd felt she'd lived it for real, and when she awoke it was with a quiet sort of dread. No screams or starts. Nothing to rouse him from his sleep.
And so she'd watched him. Focusing on the steady rise and fall of his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin pressed against her, counting the beats of his heart below her palm. Very real signs that he was alive. That he was okay. That he wasn't the still, unblinking corpse of her nightmare.
"Don't." She takes a deliberate step back from him this time, had held out in front of him as if she could stop the weight of the confession through sheer force of will. "Don't say it. Don't." It's true, she's an idiot when it comes to this, but she's not blind, and Hermione thinks she's known it for a while now. She just hasn't wanted to acknowledge it. He's obscured by fresh tears as she shakes her head, lips pressed together tight in an attempt to stop herself from crying.
After that nightmare she'd watched him for forty minutes. Watched every breath and counted every heartbeat. And then she'd reached over to the bedside table for her wand, the vine wood sliding into her hand with a familiar ease. She'd taken her parents memories with that wand. Had made them forget all about her and sent them away, where the horrors of her world couldn't follow them. She could it to him too. She knew the spell. It would be easy. A quick word and a twist of her wrist and he wouldn't remember why he chose to stay. He'd wake up to an empty bed and wonder why he would stay on the side of the Order for so long at risk to his own life, and then he would leave. And he would be safe.
She'd held that wand at his sleeping temple for fifteen minutes before she talked herself out of it. Now she wishes she hadn't. Because if it's true, if it's her he's stayed for, she'll not survive it if anything happens to him.
"Please don't."
the sight before him is unsurprising yet completely unexpected — how those two can be true at once is a phenomenon draco can't dwell on at the moment. he's got a bushy-haired witch demanding things of him at seven o'clock in the morning to deal with.
draco reluctantly settles his fork ( along with a piece of egg and sausage wedged between it — only granger would time her appearance this poorly to deprive him of the most important meal of the day ) down onto his plate and reaches for a napkin to dap at his lips. ever the mannered aristocrat his mother had taught him to be. his gaze flickers to the book that had been shoved in his line of sight, and he nearly chortles at the title. his saving grace ( willpower ) is quickly defeated as granger rattles on and on, vague to anyone eavesdropping but completely transparent within context. granger was bothered, thirsting for information only he had ( thanks to his mother who had graciously provided him answers to every question he had when he'd first seen granger's freckles ).
draco can't help the amused quirk in his lips and the glittering of his eyes. did he feel a little powerful knowing more than gryffindor's resident know-it-all? absolutely. he even basks in that fact for a full minute.
"hogwarts won't have any books about it. it's a black family legend." draco says with a haughty laugh, as if that fact were the most obvious of facts. he was absolutely tickled about this entire situation. "can i finish my breakfast first? i have an inkling you won't leave me alone today and i'd rather have the sustenance to endure that."
She feels it even now, with the Slytherin table between them. The way her heart races, the way her skin flushes. It's like an illness that has taken over her and Hermione is desperate to know as much as she can about this ancestral bloody magic. So she can figure out how to reverse it and get her mind back from where it's stuck preoccupied with him.
"Fine, but eat quick." Hermione sits across from him with a huff. Though the (very loud) impatient side of her wants to yank him out of his seat and get into it, she's worked alongside Malfoy enough lately to know that'll only cause him to be more difficult. And besides, now that she's sat at the table, her stomach growls loudly with the reminder of food.
Well, if he's going to make her wait for answers...
Reaching over, she grabs a piece off buttered toast off his plate and takes a bite, talking around the mouthful when she notices his look. "What? I got caught up in research last night and missed dinner."
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"you have no idea, do you?"
They've been fighting. What's new.
It's become a bit of a routine for them by now. When it all becomes too much, when she's sick and tired of feeling nothing except for grief and fear and she just... snaps. It's him she goes to first. For fucking or for fighting. Anything to feel something more than this bottomless pit of dread.
They lost Seamus today. To a curse nobody knew the name of. A curse so horrific that Podmore had put him out of his misery with a clean Avada. Quick. And far less painful than what he had been enduring in the moments beforehand. That knowledge is a cold comfort when she'd witnessed her childhood friend writhing desperately on the ground pleading for his mother.
On her return to the safehouse, she'd been on bit of a rampage. And her target, as always, was Malfoy. It's his own fault, really. He's always there. Watching and waiting. As if he knows what's coming. As if he's welcoming it. Give it to me. I can take it. He'd whispered that to her once, against her naked breast as she moved atop him. At the time she'd thought he'd been urging on the roll of her hips, begging for a faster pace, but sometimes she wonders if he meant more. If he meant her rage, her sorrow, her fear. If he intended to tuck it away for her. He is always there. Practically begging to take it.
Her nose is ruddy and her cheeks wet with frustrated tears. She'd stormed out of the house after a particularly creative slew of insults and he'd followed her out into the woods. Somewhat embarrassingly because the wards are pulled in tight around the perimeter and there really is nowhere to so she ends up pacing along the faint shimmer of it. Ranting at him. Accusing him of all manner of things he hasn't done yet. Running off. Packing up and using all those inherited galleons to disappear. To leave them. To leave her.
He's a lifeline she's been clinging onto and he's going to tire of her sooner rather than later so maybe the less painful thing to do would be to put this thing between them out of it's misery too. Only she's never been clean and quick. She's always been impulsive, messy. Torn, bloody edges.
He steps closer and she flinches away, even though every fibre of her being is screaming at her to move closer to him, to tuck herself into the warmth she knows so well. Hermione's accepted by now that she's in love with him. Or maybe the idea of him. She's not sure. All she does know is that she can't stand this. How anybody stand this?
You have no idea, do you?
"No idea about what?" there's still that bite to her words, but it wavers on the last bit and she thinks she might be close to breaking.
› TENSION LINER PROMPTS
"I dare you to try."
"Do you always get close?"
"You’re pushing my limits."
"Stop looking at me like that."
"I’m losing control here."
"You have no idea, do you?"
"I can’t resist you anymore."
"Stay back, or don’t."
"I know what you want."
"This is getting dangerous now."
"You’re too tempting for me."
"I shouldn’t want this, but…"
"I don’t play fair, remember?"
"Careful, you’re testing me."
"You’re just making it worse."
"You’re too close for comfort."
"Do you always push buttons?"
"Stop before I kiss you."
"You’re making it too hard."
"I can’t stop thinking about you."
"I want you too much."
"You know exactly what you’re doing."
"I’m not playing games here."
"You’ve crossed the line now."
"Keep pushing, and you’ll regret it."
"This is dangerous, isn’t it?"
"I’m trying not to care."
"Don’t make me regret this."
"You’re playing with fire."
"You don’t know what’s coming."
"I shouldn’t be this close."
"We’re getting dangerously close now."
"I can feel the heat."
"Don’t test me right now."
"I want you too badly."
"Don’t make me chase you."
"You’re distracting me, you know."
"I won’t fall for this."
"I want you, but…"
"What do you want from me?"
"I’ll never give in."
"I’m trying not to care."
"You’re playing with my patience."
"Don’t make this harder, please."
"I can’t stop this feeling."
"I’m already in too deep."
"You won’t walk away unscathed."
"You’re walking a fine line."
"I’m trying to stay calm."
"What are you doing to me?"
