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“There was no sea, no sky, no lighthouse. Only air shattered by wings, only the squeeze of Mordaunt's glove against her fingers.

Black-fringed white filled Aurienne's eyes, pleated upon itself, fell, lurched. Light fractured in chinks between wings and through feathers, light from a golden world where an unceasing sun shone.

There was something at work in the celestial clamour-something half-conscious, something not good, and yet not evil. Aurienne felt a losening. The rules became less rigid. Things wouldn't withstand; things wouldn't say no.

She hesitated. Air trembled at her cheek. A window had opened.

Could she do it?

The lighthouse flashed. A hundred thousand bright eyes were on her.

“Draco pointed his wand at the swan-badger feigning innocence on the Potentiograph platform.

“Accio snuff box."

What happened next seemed to unfold in slow motion. Given the nature of the department it happened in, it may well have.

When the spell hit the snuff box, the lemon-lime neon light that had merely licked in warning at their fingers before exploded from the box in a fan of crackling stripes, the tip of each one snapping at either the Time Turner at the heart of the Potentiograph, or Draco and Hermione themselves.

When two of them struck Hermione in the chest and arm, it felt as though twin holes were being bored straight through her, sending vibrating shocks of pain radiating out to the tips of her fingers and down through the soles of her feet.

She watched as Draco’s moon-pale hair stood on end, and then lit up as though it were made up of the fragile white-hot filaments of a thousand incandescent Muggle light bulbs.

Hermione felt pinned into place by the shock of the curse, and the movements she made toward Draco were as slow and deliberate as wading through freshly poured concrete. 

When the jagged yellow tongues of the curse’s energy hit the Time Turner in the Potentiograph, it sparked to life and began to spin, at first slowly, and then with increasing speed, until they could hear its brass rings slicing through the air in a high-pitched, oscillating whine that beat in nausea-inducing waves against the shores of their ear drums.” - Love and Other Historical Accidents, Chapter 1: The Explosion, by Pacificrimbaud

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Happy New Year!!! Here is my very belated present for you; a little family portrait that’s becoming an annual holiday tradition. Lyra and Orion always bully their father into doing Smaug’s voice when Hermione is reading these passages, and Draco always grumbles about it (also in Smaug’s voice, to their delight) but he secretly loves it ;)

The end of my DMATMOOBIL journey.

756 hours average of work ⏳

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“Granger, who had been idly touching the hummingbird hyacinths, turned to him with a grimace of guilt. “I feel terrible about it.”

“You? Why? You saved me.”

“Yes, but if I hadn’t bodged your first attempt to catch Talfryn, none of this would have happened.”

“True,” conceded Draco. Then he added, “I should like an apology from your otter.”

Granger’s look was mingled uncertainty and amusement. Draco held her gaze with a raised eyebrow.

Granger sighed, then took out her wand and cast Expecto Patronum.

Her otter floated to Draco and looked as contrite as an otter could.

“I’m sorry,” said the otter.

“You’re forgiven,” said Draco with great benevolence.

The otter rolled its eyes, if you please, and then disappeared.

“The absolute cheek of that creature,” said Draco.” - Draco Malfoy and the Mortifying Ordeal of Being in Love, Chapter 20: Draco Malfoy the Errand Boy, Life and Times of, by @isthisselfcare

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“The sun was setting. The stars glittered their lovely awakening.

As they had been in this very garden so many months ago, they were, once again, only a man and a woman amongst green boughs and a rustling breeze.

Only, this time, the violent polarities that had kept them apart drew them together. After all, fire loves her darkness. After all, the sinner loves his angel. Autumn, laughing, dances her leaves into the high skies of her winter. The moon spins in gyre after gyre, chasing his beloved sun.

Only, this time, the terrible incompatibilities had grown irrelevant – fallen away – mattered for naught. They were two souls who had come near enough to to feel the other’s glow, but now, at last, they met, touched, tangled.

He slipped the ring onto her finger. He had removed all of the thresholds. She would feel everything. The rings connected. He felt the surge of her heart and she, with a gasp, felt his.

He held her to him, lifted her, and spun her, laughing, amongst swirling nebulae of snowflakes catching the sun.

She was his and he was utterly hers.

In snow-felted twilight, under spilling skies and starshine and a sun standing still, they kissed, they promised, they loved. What cared they about universes colliding? Let them collide. Let their joined heartbeats cleave constellations and startle the eternal stars.” - Draco Malfoy and the Mortifying Ordeal of Being in Love, Chapter 36: Journeys End in Lovers Meeting, by @isthisselfcare

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“So, no evidence of concealment, no written findings, computers, clouds…” Draco looked at Granger. “If I’m a baddie who needs information, what do I do next?”

Granger looked at him inquiringly. “What do you do?”

“I go after you,” said Draco.

He raised his wand and, a split second later, his spell hit her in the chest.” - Draco Malfoy and the Mortifying Ordeal of Being in Love, Chapter 1: An Unsporting Attack, by @isthisselfcare

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“He wanted to linger. It was sweet to linger. To stand under fading wisteria, watching their mingling shadows, and bicker about unimportant things. There was something terribly precious about it. Perhaps because it was unnecessary. It was for the pleasure of it. It was Just Because.

He watched her for a shift, for a sign of impatience, but there was none. Only a hip against the door jamb, an arm held loosely at her waist. She was talking about his mother now, asking him to tell her that she adored the flowers. He said something in return, something that she could respond to, to continue to stretch out the moment.

She laughed at something. Their eyes met. Draco felt woolly-headed and vague. It was the anaesthesia again, the feel of the world in flux, a slow spinning. Granger was idly plucking a few strands of wisteria. He asked if that was the extent of her flower arranging. She said yes, was he impressed? And passed him the droopy bouquet.

He said it was the loveliest thing he had ever seen. He reached to take it. He drew his fingertips against hers.

In his veins, not blood, but lightness.

His touch lingered probably too long. He wondered what to call this thing, this stealing of glances and touches and moments. The headlong giddiness impelled by the most platonic of hugs. The wanting to be near. He wasn’t foolish enough to call it love, and it was too delicate for lust, but it wasn’t nothing, either. It was Something.

Yes. Unless he was very much mistaken, there was Something, between himself and Granger.

And wouldn’t that just be an exquisite catastrophe.” - Draco Malfoy and the Mortifying Ordeal of Being in Love, Chapter 20: Draco Malfoy the Errand Boy, Life and Times of, by @isthisselfcare

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“He ran his thumb over her ring. “You must tell me when you’ve recovered your capacity for – complications.”

She looked up at him with lips parted and eyes the colour of curiosity.

He felt her returning touch against his knuckles.

“After today, I – I may have a spot of wiggle room.”

“What if we were – just a bit stupid, then?”

“...Let’s be a bit stupid.”

She slipped her fingers under his braces, where they lay against his shoulders, and pulled him towards her.” - Draco Malfoy and the Mortifying Ordeal of Being in Love, Chapter 32: A Paedagogical Exchange, by @isthisselfcare

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