#draconicn

                                " i don't hate you. "

when he'd seen her down by the lake, somehow yet again unaccompanied by anyone else, he had not intended to approach her. and when he'd approached her, he hadn't expected to speak to her. and when he'd spoken to her, he hadn't expected to confess. and so that how was he had wound up confession.

he had no intention of apologizing. he wouldn't know where to start, what to apologize for, how to repent for it. he'd decided then that what he'd known —or believed he'd known— was entirely a byproduct of his upbringing, and he had no control over it.

if nothing else, he'd been decent. he hadn't bullied mudbl— muggleborns the way draco had bullied them. he hadn't gone out of his way for their suffering. in fact, he hadn't gone out of his way for anyone. and while perhaps no one would believe this was proper justification, it was all blaise had.

but he couldn't say that now. it was too late.

                NYMPHADORA TONKS   &.   CHARLIE WEASLEY.

it was odd, seeing her that way. again. a wasteland where smiles could not be sustained, happiness a foreign memory. or just foreign. and the hair, brown. the brownest he'd ever seen it. and it must have been because of him. how could it not be?

she'd never snapped at him before, never quite like that. not that it had been violent or even particularly loud, not loud like his uncle. but sharp like his aunt, ENOUGH. he'd been on his feet and away from the couch so fast, feeling guilty and ashamed, as though he'd been caught doing something very wrong. it had been so very long since he'd felt like that. he didn't like it.

he flinched when she reached, a reflex rather than any conscious reaction, but the soft of her palms soothed him. for a moment. but the comfort was not there, and so the effect didn't last. there was apology in her eyes, but his head told him it was not simply for snapping. she's changed her mind. she doesn't want the boy who lived. she wants her husband, and you are not him. you killed him.

it had been only a few weeks since they had crossed that final line, torn it up and thrown caution to the wind, given into everything that had been pulling at them for an excessive amount of time. and harry had thought at last that he was not alone in his emotions, but now, the doubt came rushing back. the tide, coming wash away what he held so dear to him.

" no, no i - i'm sorry. i shouldn't have - i shouldn't... look, it's alright, dora, if - if you feel it was a mistake for us to do what we did, i understand, and - and i can - go somewhere else if it's not..."

but he couldn't get the words out fast enough, and then she was gone, racing towards the bathroom looking absolutely ill. there was a moment's pause before he followed, a habit and an instinct, making it to the door just as she reached the toilet. he didn't hesitate then, falling beside her and pulling the hair back from her face.

he was promptly caught off guard by the raise of her voice, the sheer need to overpower both him and this conversation evident in the very weight of her exclamation point. his glasses slid down his nose, a reminder that he was wearing them. a reminder that he was vulnerable.

looking away, he feigned interest in the journal perched upon his lip, sly hand reaching up to remove the spectacles from unblemished face. he didn't like to show his underbelly, had known how weak these knees were. rowing a boat for a decade would not shape that sort of muscle, could not cure that type of weakness. he was still learning to live with it, like a defect. or a haunting.

" i just meant the, er, the general energy. in or around the car. not something you need any particular device for save perhaps a heartbeat. "

between its passengers. it was what he meant to say, or should have said, or may have been able to express the notion with. but now was not the time. and time, no matter how circular or cylindrical or what have you, had yet to be on their side. timing itself was everything. to be honest know would only serve to contort things, and gansey had enough puzzles on his plate to sift through without adding another.

             Guilt wrote itself on his face before Regulus could stop it, and it was only then he realized they hadn’t seen each other since he went off to die in that cave. She had a son now, Regulus heard  ——  a son he had never met, an heir to another family he might never get to be a part of. He hoped it wasn’t the case, that things could be different with Narcissa ; but no explaining eased his mother into forgiving him. She made it abundantly clear he was no longer welcome in his home.

      ❛  Cissy. . .  ❜  His voice strained, and he felt too unsure to make it any louder. Fingers tugged on his sleeve nervously, and there were many things he wished to say, but nothing coherent seemed to form.  ❛  I. . .  ——  can we just talk?  ❜  

his vision was hazy-- the hit to the back of his head had left him out of the fight for a fair amount of time. but before him, the blurred images snapped together. pieces, fragments sliding into one and it finally formed. 

--the blood. teeth. the savage sounds of animals fighting. 

and then SILENCE.   those eyes that salazar was met with seemed to bore into him and he couldn’t look away. his head pounded, but it was nothing but background noise-- unimportant, in the face of what happened before him.  the animal, that became a woman. 

eyes wide, salazar watched in complete AWE at the transformation. and for a moment, he was speechless.  a RARE event.  but after a moment, finally managed to sit up further. 

THE BLACK SISTERS EDITS ( 1/?? ) | the roots, the flowers, the thorns

All my life, I've been fighting a war I can't talk to you or your friends It's not only you My heart jumps around when I'm alluded to This will not do Cause I was raised up to be admired, to be noticed But when you're withdrawn, it's the closest thing to assault when all eyes are on you This will not doI'm faking glory Lick my lips, toss my hair And turn the smile on And the story's brand new But I can take it from here I'll find my own bravado