#soughs

“There’s three things in life you can’t escape - death, taxes, and me.”

Tom gave Harry a withering look. “I don’t do taxes,” he muttered, but he did not deny the others.

Harry smiled pleasantly, draping himself across the back of the armchair Tom was currently sat on. “You will. Mr Weasley works for the Ministry you know, and I’m the Boy Who Lived… do you think he’d hesitate to turn you in? And what a scandal it would be if my partner turned out to be a tax evader!” Harry gasped dramatically and clutched his chest. “Would you do that to me?”

“Yes,” Tom replied without missing a beat.

“You know, you really suck sometimes,” Harry said, patting Tom on the shoulder and turning to head out of the room. If Tom didn’t want to play, Harry would wait until he did.

“Only at night, darling,” Tom called after him.

Can you believe that in almost 40 pages I used the word “warm” only twice? There are only versions of the word, the word itself - twice! lol

A gust of cold air hit Graves and even his warm tailcoat was no protection against it.

It’s never too late to send prompts.

“There’s no future, there’s no past,” Credence sighed, his eyes glued to Percy’s ceiling. “There’s only the present, the only thing yet to be ruined.”

Percy found himself staring at Credence, who lied next to him in his - their - bed. There was a wrinkle between his eyebrows - the beginning of a frown - as he considered the younger face, with the sharp angles and the gaunt cheeks. Credence had filled out some in the months since they started living together, but not much. Percy wished to feed him more, but there were only so many times that he could entice with pastries.

“No future?” he repeated. It was some time since Credence last fell into one of his moods, and Percy thought he knew why it happened now but he didn’t want to ask in case he was wrong.

“We’ll burn on the stake,” Credence answered, and confirmed what he had feared. Ideas that he had worked hard to get rid of had found their way back into Credence’s thoughts.

“The fire will do nothing but tickle,” Percy reassured. “Magic protects us.”

“Does it really?” Credence asked, and finally turned his head to meet Percy’s eyes.

“If magic fails,” Percy promised. “I’ll be there to protect you.”

Credence’s lips twisted into something that might have been a smile.

“I hope you keep that promise.”

Percy dragged Credence’s body closer, and held him protectively. He would do everything to keep that promise, if he so had to fight with tooth and nails.

Of course you can 💘

“I’m not sure why you think that I want to die,” Sanguini said, avoiding Pyrites’ searching eyes.

“You’re sitting on a throne of bones, staring at a cold meal,” Pyrites answered, the poetic way to say that Amadeo was depressed feeling wrong on his tongue but fitting for the circumstances. He wasn’t aware that vampires could starve themselves until he spent time with Sanguini. He didn’t think that Sanguini would ever succeed in starving himself to death. He didn’t think that Sanguini would ever succeed in dying at all.

“I’m taking care of myself.”

The lie held no weight behind it; Pyrites could see through it before the sentence had been completed.

“Then drink from me,” he offered, tilting his head to the side to showcase the pale skin of his throat. Sanguini’s pupils dilated before dark eyes turned away from him, fixating on the scenery outside the window instead.

“I don’t need to.”

The second lie fell even flatter than the first one. Pyrites dragged a hand through his hair, dishevelling it in a rare show of frustration. He could of course do Sanguini a favour and kill him, but he found that he didn’t want to. He enjoyed the vampire’s company - or he used to. He wanted to enjoy it again.

“I can see your ribs, Amadeo,” Pyrites sighed. Sanguini’s shirt hung lose on his bony frame, the light shining through the fabric and highlighting the thin body underneath.

“Maybe you should leave,” Sanguini still didn’t look at him.

Pyrites silently conjured a knife. He hadn’t wanted to, but he would not have Sanguini waste away. He calmly cut his palm and held out his hand in Sanguini’s direction.

The vampire’s nostrils flared, and slowly the dark eyes focused on him once more. There was a moment where the world seemed to stop, and then suddenly Sanguini was on his knees in front of Pyrites, licking his palm clean.

“I hate you, ma raison d’être,” Sanguini whispered, and exchanged the licks for kisses.

“Then you wouldn’t speak French, mon plaisir quotidien.”

“Vita mia,” Sanguini kissed Pyrites’ wrist before biting into it. “You’ll be the death of me.”

This! Is! Hard!

I haven’t gotten around to watch Grand Budapest Hotel yet but just looking at pictures that’s one interesting choice??