moved

Mᴀʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄʜᴏsᴇ.

                               darkmarkedmen

  indie Harry Potter multimuse.

  semi-selective & mutual-exclusive.

  written & illustrated by Kraken.

     Head is lighter than a feather

  Looks like I’m not 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳

severus snape: the whisper of the chill draft in the corridor, landing cold on the back of one’s neck; black cloth laid over white, the fabric stiff and unyielding; sallow hands turned almost yellow by the candlelight, the tendons shifting under the skin as the fingers grasp and reach; the soft bubble of a cauldron in the next room, simmering over a low fire; the mingled scents of the potions supply cupboard, dried flowers meeting coppery blood meeting must; a stark line of moonlight splitting the floor where the double doors are slightly ajar; the curl of a thin, scornful lip; the rhythmic scratch of a quill on parchment.

narcissa malfoy: the bursting taste of a sparkling wine on the tongue, sweet and yet deceptive; the brush of a long skirt on ancestral stairs, the fabric shimmering in the low light; as arrangement that rests easy on a windowsill, the flowers opening by night, and singing softly to the moonlight; the scent of a lady’s perfume, rising to meet the reader when her letter is finally opened; slender hands clasped tightly together over the belly, the chin high, the expression politely expectant; the mingle of golden and silver hair together on one pillow, never tangling; the quiet click of slippers on a wooden floor, delicate and full of grace; soft laughter hidden in the palm of one’s hand.

lucius malfoy: the shimmer of green silk over searching fingers, soft yet cold to the touch; the quiet warble of doves, white peacock feathers on the ground outside their roost; black leather gloves encasing strong hands, and gripping tightly at the handle of a silver cane; the scent of a delicate cologne clinging to an embroidered handkerchief; the dripping condescension in a single, quiet chuckle; the low muttering of an ancient library, calling forth their authors’ descendants to find the secrets therewithin; the soft breathing of a husband and wife side by side, their breaths synchronised with sleep; a drop of blood that slides down a rose stem, slowly seeping into the soil beneath.

Cover of “The Poet’s Offering,” an 1850 “gift book” from my personal collection. It contains verses organized alphabetically by subject.

The home of Joseph Achkar & Michel Charrier. Hotel du Duc de Gesvres Paris, France.

View of La Crescenza, 1649, Claude Lorrain

Barcelona, Spain