#s.ch.fandom

It happened when I joined the Harry Potter fandom in 2021. I wanted to write a fanfic and started saving scenes in my imagination. But I had a lot of things going on, so I stopped thinking about that story.

Later, I found a fanfic on a fanfiction platform. It's called Running on the Air. I read it in just one day — and I was so shocked when I realized that my scenes were in this fanfic. Word for word. My scenes were not something ordinary. This is not something that every author just happens to write.

This fanfic is my favorite now. And I think J.K. Rowling created such a magical universe that all of us live there — with some part of our minds — and see the same scenes. Otherwise, I can't explain it.

— «You're not brewing potions. You're making cheap poison.»

None of them moved. They all just stared at him, frozen in fear.

— «Go on, admit it — am I covered in spots?»

No answer. That made him even angrier. He genuinely couldn't understand what the problem was — until he looked down at the fluffy black tail sitting right there in his own plate. A black tail, for fuck's sake, twitching back and forth in irritation.

The bloodcurdling yowls of a cat drew attention from the other students. Tom remembered every swear word he'd ever known — until he felt a woman's hand grab him by the scruff of his neck and lift him up over the Slytherin table.

— «As a prefect, I can't allow students' cats to walk all over the tables,» Hermione announced with an air of great importance.

She glanced down at Riddle, who looked absolutely deranged with humiliation and rage, then pressed him against her chest and scratched him behind the ears. The cat hissed.

— «You poor thing. Don't you know that male cats are supposed to be neutered? My Crookshanks used to yowl just like that in the spring. Pathetic sight... I suppose he's suffering without a lady cat.»

The cat sank his claws into her robes and started slowly sliding downward. Granger patiently pried him off the fabric and settled him on her shoulder, holding him tight.

— «If you scratch me, I'll twist your tail right around, got it?»

She turned to the boys.

— «You lot — sadists. I'm taking the cat, and I'm docking you points. Twenty-five each.»

Avery stared after her.

— «She just took the Dark Lord.»

— «He's definitely going to kill us now,» Nott muttered darkly.

I don't like it when authors make Voldemort cold and aggressive. To me, he's actually a deep and complex person. He definitely has a twisted sense of humor.

I also think that Tom Riddle had romantic relationships with girls while he was at Hogwarts. I enjoy reading about his dark magnetism and charm.

~•~

"I would prefer that you never leave me, Hermione."

Malfoy pressed his cheek against her hand. The ice in his eyes slowly melted. Her name, for the first time, left on his tongue such a sweet, honeyed aftertaste.

Hermione was afraid to breathe, afraid to shatter the ephemeral magic of the moment. He was being honest with her — and that was unimaginable.

"That you never forget me."

Like an echo, his voice dissolved into the night emptiness of the Hogwarts corridors.

Draco pressed himself against her warm knees and intertwined her fingers with his.

"This isn't luck. This is destiny, and I am grateful for it, because you were worth all my suffering, Granger."

Malfoy immersed himself in the grace of her gentle scent and lifted his head, then touched her lips with his finger and smiled.

Hermione turned around, and the knot of nerves inside her pulled even tighter.

"Could you possibly walk any slower? We're clearly in no hurry at all!"

She spoke with poisonous sarcasm, following Malfoy with a sharp, piercing glare.

The Portkey had deposited them a few miles from the Order of the Phoenix headquarters, in an area where the Apparition field didn't work. But Draco didn't seem concerned.

Noticing her trembling hands, he took off his cloak and casually draped it over Hermione's shoulders.

"You shouldn't have..." The phantom warmth of his body seeped beneath her skin, and she was already about to refuse this mocking display of concern.

"Enough. I'd gladly listen to your insults, but I don't want to take responsibility for you choosing death by hypothermia."

He threw the words over his shoulder, and Hermione nearly slipped as she climbed the hill after him, scrambling to come up with a witty retort along the way.

"I suggest we finally get to know each other better, Granger. Be yourself for once. Just a little. I promise I won't tell anyone."

A smirk touched his pale lips as he felt a light shove against his back.

"What makes you think I want to get closer?"

She herself flinched at how sharp and cold her voice sounded.

You wanted to prove to him that he was "nothing" next to you.

Why does she become so cruel when she's near him?

Why does Malfoy make her disappointed in herself, make her turn away from the compassion she had always believed in?

She was no longer Saint Granger. Draco Malfoy was her unflattering true reflection, and for that truth, she hated him.

"Because I want it."

The determination with which he spoke those words made her turn around and freeze, surrendering to the power of his magnetic gaze.

"I'm glad no one is here," Malfoy said, grasping her slender wrists and pulling Granger toward him. "No one who could steal your breath, your voice, from me."

With tenderness, he traced his fingertip along the line of her cheekbones, his gaze caressing her dry, chapped lips.

"I'm possessive, Granger. I've endured my whole life while those more worthy took from me what has always been mine — you."

Hermione went numb beneath his touch. Draco gazed into her eyes, holding her face in his palms.

Gently. Persistently. Too close.

As if he feared that even now, she would prefer the virgin expanses of autumn fields to his gaze.

Never again in her life would Hermione see so much sorrow hidden in a clean grey iris, so much consuming, maddening pain.

The spring wind drove tattered scraps of grey clouds across a milk-white sky. The outlines of the world had become so sharp that Draco couldn't help but be surprised — his eyesight had worsened back in his fifth year, even though he never wore glasses.

It took him a moment to get up from the ground, look around, and realize that he wasn't breathing. Inside him, there was no heart, no lungs. He didn't need them anymore. He could feel the cold raindrops and the wind, which meant he still existed.

Looking closer, he saw Hermione in the distance. A small figure, head bowed, wiping away tears with the back of a translucent hand. A soft glow emanated from her. Closing his eyes, Malfoy found himself beside her and put his arm around Granger's shoulders.

They both looked at their own bodies, lying in the field. Draco held Hermione close. His arm was slashed by a curse. He had tried to protect her in the last seconds of his life.

And then Malfoy remembered. The events of the previous night flared up in his memory like a searing pain. He had tried to lead her away from Malfoy Manor. They had managed to Apparate quite far, but they couldn't escape the pursuit.

It had all happened here, near a small English village. Maybe the villagers thought a thunderstorm had broken out in the night. In reality, flashes of curses had streaked through the darkness like lightning.

Draco had killed several Death Eaters before he noticed a jet of green light flying toward Hermione. They had split death between them. She tried to shield him. He tried to shield her.

Then everything went quiet.

Hermione turned to Draco.

"Are we free now?"

He nodded silently. Dying hadn't hurt.

What hurt was knowing that you had died.

After Apparating, he swayed to the side. Fatigue persistently reminded him of itself with a rapid pulse and dizziness.

Maybe today was the time to take a strong sleeping potion and allow himself to disappear from this world for at least twenty-four hours. The wizard sitting at the guard post raised an indifferent gaze to him and reluctantly put down his newspaper.

"This morning an owl brought me a letter summoning me to the Ministry of Magic. Can you tell me which department I need to go to?"

"One moment, sir," the wizard bent over the book where all summons and messages were recorded.

The pause dragged on.

"Hmm, the last summons you received was over a month ago..."

"...when I started the investigation, correct," Malfoy interrupted him irritably. "Check again!"

The change of power had in no way affected the lax performance of direct duties by everyone who worked here. It had always angered him.

"The Ministry has sent no summons or messages to the address of Draco Lucius Malfoy," the wizard repeated more insistently.

Malfoy's gaze drifted aimlessly across the walls, where poisonous green reflections from the Floo Network flickered. Inside, beneath his ribs, a coldness began to spread as he realized what had happened. He had taken the bait. He had been lured out of his home. Draco turned and, pulling out his wand as he moved, Apparated back to the apartment.