#I kind of liked the Honeyweed one

[cinnamon-flame]

@snaill-dragon here are the designs, I initially wanted to put them under the ask but when I was done I realized it would be so long and off-topic so here's what I got so far

Embermask and Snailtuft are Feverstrike's siblings (half-sister and adopted brother respectively) and Honeyweed and Silentsong are Embermask's kits, given up to be raised in Windclan with Feverstrike, Snailtuft and his mate Darkfreckle as their primary caretakers.

Also this drawing of Feverstrike and his favorite niblings.

Also this icon for Snailtuft's toyhouse page that I kind of like:

Also I would love to see a Sundapple doodle as a trade!! (if you want of course, please don't feel pressured)

[kiiraeth]

♡ otters song reccs!! ♡

i’m gonna ramble a little with each of these, i’ve also included my favourite lyrics from each of them!! give them a listen and maybe let me know what you think :)

♡ somewhere only we know by keane

my favourite lyric: i felt the earth beneath my feet, sat by the river and it made me complete

this has been one of my very favourite songs since like elementary school, i listen to it on repeat sometimes when i get anxious, and it just makes me feel good it has a good vibe!

♡ flawlessa by boy willow

my favourite lyric: my flaws stay in the back of my head

i really love the like lofi vibe of this song, it’s got such a cool background that’s pretty unique. i remember having this on repeat while writing an essay a few months ago lmao.

♡ talk to much by COIN

my favourite lyric: you know i talk to much, honey, come put your lips on mine

this one is all thanks to miss mel who now has me hooked on coin, but this song is a banger!! it’s so fun and upbeat and immediately gives you a happy feeling.

♡ glitter by BENEE

my favourite lyric: maybe you should stay here with me, let’s make our own party

benee is WONDERFUL, another one of my favourite songs from her is snail, her music is just so fun!

♡ honeyweed by summer salt

my favourite lyric: she asked me if i wanna know, know how i can be your honeyweed

summer salt is my all time favourite band!! i adore all of their music, it’s very chill and i can listen to all of their stuff on repeat, but this is one of my favourites from them.

♡ all the things she said by t.a.T.u

my favourite lyric: want to fly her away where the sun and the rain come in over my face, wash away all the shame

middle school me was obsessed with this song and recently the memory of it resurfaced in my brain and i’ve had it on repeat. it’s a straight banger, like i can’t even tell you how cool it is for some reason.

♡ red side of the moon by trixie mattel

my favourite lyric: i cannot pick a favourite from this song, every lyric is perfection

trixie mattel!! an incredible drag queen and even more incredible musician, i’ll be real with y’all i don’t understand the meaning behind this song really but the lyrics feel so loving and it’s really beautiful.

♡ video games by trixie mattel

my favourite lyric: they say that the world was built for two, only worth living if somebody is loving you

more trixie mattel baby, i highly recommend all of their music, but this song is actually a cover of lana del rays song. the harpsichord is literally enchanting and it’s. a totally differant feel than lanas version but it is still so good.

♡ skinny love by bon iver

my favourite lyric: and in the morning i’ll be with you, but it will be a different kind

this one is another cover of the birdie song, and dare i say it i think i like bon ivers version more than the og. i just like acoustic guitar a lot sue me.

♡ through the eyes of a child by AURORA

my favourite lyric: again, i can’t pick a favourite from this, they’re each poetic and deep and beautiful aaaa

ok what a BEAUTIFUL SONG AND MESSAGE HERE, this is such a good song the imagery is immaculate and as always auroras voice is stunning and she sounds like a true storyteller. i adore all of auroras music, i have her all my demons album playing all the time i swear. highly recommend everything she sings.

alright that’s it for now!! i apologize for rambling, but this was fun! i’m happy to share my favourite music with y’all because music is such a huge part of who i am. i hope y’all listen to some of these and i hope you like them!!!

[cece2046]

Love Lies

FFN | AO3

Dramione. Post war? I’ve been told that this is not a happy story. By the birthday girl!!!! @honeyweeds Many happy returns! And thank you for beta! I’m too afraid to ask my CTC beta as a matter of fact I’m keeping this quiet shhhh

@sissannis just because

Hermione Granger is a know-it-all, Miss Perfect, OCD patient, rule-lover, and library fundamentalist.

She was already a mature enough lady when she was 13 years old, and still a bookish girl when she’s at 35.

This girl is climbing up the fire ladder now, light and graceful like gravity doesn’t work on her. Draco is watching her behind his binoculars three thousand feet away. He’s been contemplating about whether he should go up there and just say hello. She won’t be warm. She could very well be on her guard because of what happened before, but that’s okay. Draco is a beautiful man. He’s not young anymore, but still beautiful. All guards can be taken down by a beautiful face, even with past bullying and racism.

She moved into the top floor in that apartment three months ago, and started to randomly climb up to the roof two months ago. She looks around, reads, talks to someone on her phone, and writes or draws something in her notebook. Sometimes, her eyes skim over this house Draco hides in - he no doubt found out that bit after he got the binoculars like a stalker. The house is unplottable, just like 12 Grimmauld Place. You just can’t see it unless you know it. Draco has gotten used to surviving on the house elves, sometimes playing the piano, sometimes reading. Most of the time, he just lies on the dusty couch in the living room, staring at the clock with intricate golden decorative patterns on the wall opposite him. He’s never seen the hands moving ever since he moved in. He’s waiting, but not sure what.

The arrival of Hermione Granger was a fresh breeze. He’s always considered her that way. When they were in the Order, in the war, she was a miracle of cool wind during an agonizing summer. He was attracted to her, naturally, since he’s just an ordinary man with his own best interests at heart. At least, that’s what he told himself. He ought to find an ally in an unfamiliar environment. This ally must be sensible, so they won’t punch him in the face whenever adults are not present. Powerful and important, too, or he would never reach the status he wants for himself. It seems that his Slytherin ambition still prospered even in the Order of Phoenix, which, ironically, is the symbol of change.

Ah, sweet, sweet Hermione. He remembers his own fingers and tongue comforting every corner of her body, her unfocused eyes on the ceiling, and him between her legs, with absolutely no idea what he was supposed to do. He didn’t have anyone to turn to. Hey, I’m banging Hermione Granger. Remember? One of the best friends of our Great Saver Potter, the brightest witch of our age, core member of the Order, remember? I’m banging her, but you see, here’s the thing. I’ve never… you know. So, are there any tips you could share? Huh? I didn’t force her or drug her or anything like that. It’s just she’s much more mature than you. She knows when to move on. To be honest, so much more mature than you right now. Hey, enough alright? One slap is understandable, you’re so out of line with kicking me in the stomach.

Of course, all was solved as time went on. So many people died after all. People die every day. Sometimes on that armchair in the meeting room. Sometimes under their own wands. He remembers when Ron died, there had been so much blood. He was put onto the long table, and Hermione was so busy looking for the few potions and bandages left that she missed the look Ron gave her before he died. That’s a look from a dog, cast to the world with so much vulnerability and longing before he dies of old age. Lupin retracted his hands. Draco hesitated, glanced at Hermione who’s still looking so hard for Blood Replenishing Potion, and closed Ron’s eyes.

He hated the silence descended on her afterwards so much. Hate made him angry, and anger made him act with new determination and cruelty. Sweet Hermione. She just couldn’t hold back her moans under his fingers, or keep her eyes unseen in his unrelenting thrusts, even she lived in this huge, all-encompassing silence. Everything worked out fine. He’d stopped being tentative about her feelings, so awkwardness and difficulties disappeared at once. He’s the one who solved the problem this time. Hermione was just a little girl who lost her best friend and first love, holding onto him like he’s the only piece of floating wood in the sea. After all, Harry Potter had been dead for years. After all, people around her had been dying one by one for years. He became this thing she must hold onto even though he was just a piece of wood that had been floating in the sea for far too long, just waves away from being tore apart by storms. Their every orgasm was a toxic animal corpse, roasted half-raw and eaten in the wild forest of war and life. In some kind wizards’ guest room, on the wet and muddy vines in Romanian forests, in a back alley in Muggle London, Hermione Granger slaughtered Death Eaters like a machine, and dropped her pants like a whore. He followed her around like watching a marvelous circus show. Watch her make fighting plans, watch her calculate how many remaining Death Eaters there are in UK, watch her grit her teeth and move on after her friends’ death, watch her bow, watch her kill, watch her shield reflecting green lights shot from dark corners - she had become a veteran after all. In the end, he had to leave. That’s a pity for him as well. She’s the girl he’s been in love with.

See, he admitted that to himself. She’s the girl he’s been in love with. It must be the solitude and emptiness all these years, eroding his brain, the sense of which he was so proud of. He’s starting to admit weird things coming out of nowhere. He thinks he must go outside. Maybe tomorrow. He should go wait for her on the roof, wait for her to climb up the ladder and say hello. She won’t be warm. She could very well be on her guard because of what happened before, but that’s okay. Draco is a beautiful man. He’s not young anymore, but still beautiful. All guards can be taken down by a beautiful face, even with past bullying and racism, and murder.

The murder of Ron Weasley shouldn’t be logged onto his ledger, though the intel he kept leaking back then everyday kind of indirectly caused the death of the red-hair boy. He was looking at Hermione when he died, a look like an old dog. Draco knows from the very beginning that she came here to kill him. As long as he doesn’t leave this house, they can keep this standoff until the end of time, until this house falls down to dust. He knew back when he left her that she would realize the truth of him sooner or later. He doesn’t really want to do the standoff, because life is so, so long, and he wants to talk to her. He wants to say that all of his life has been half real and half fake, cornering himself between the devil and the deep blue sea. He’s sorry. That’s real. He doesn’t know if she would allow him the chance to say the words. 

END

[alwaystiredheaux]

12 Days of Christmas - Oneshot

Here we go I hope you’ve said goodbye to your teeth because the toothrotting fluff you are about to read is unbelievably stomach ache inducing but God i had so much fun writing it :)

@littlemulattokitten and @ninjafairy86 are both to blame for this because the angst they are giving me in their own Tomione’s is amazingly painful

There’s 3000 words of fluff, smut, christmas markets and a cameo from our favourite ferret - Merry christmas loves!

@sissannis @annamonk @honeyweeds @nerysdax @perf-patricia @disillusionist9 @snipandsnail

"You do know it's still November, right?"

Hermione turned, smiling at the sight of her boyfriend leaning against the doorframe of their living room.

"I know" she mumbled, turning back to continue hanging the decorations on their first ever joint Christmas tree. This was their first Christmas together outside of Hogwarts and Hermione was determined to make it the best one ever – she'd make it Tom's favourite holiday too, even if it killed her.

"So why, may I ask does it look like the Christmas section of Debenhams in here, if you know it's still November?" He asked, wrapping his arms around her waist and nuzzling his head into the nape of her neck.

Hermione sighed, enjoying the feel of him against her, knowing that he was enjoying it just as much, "I love Christmas."

"I love you."

Hermione smirked, "I know. Which is why you're not going to complain about helping me finish decorating this tree."

On the first day of Christmas, as Tom would to refer to it over the years, he arrived home from work on a dreary Wednesday evening to find Hermione, still dressed in the navy-blue dress she'd worn to work, elbow deep in a bowl of dough with flour all over her face and the kitchen. He had to suppress a laugh at how ridiculous she looked with her face scrunched up in concentration and bits of flour dough sticking to her hair, which she'd pulled into a bun on the top of her head in an obvious effort to keep it out of the way. Even though she could do magic without thinking, she still preferred to do most cooking the muggle way.

He stood in the doorway, just out of her sight, for a few minutes and appreciated the view. He loved her more than anything – would do anything for her, his actions over the past few years had no doubt proved that but he still couldn't believe that she was his.

Their relationship at Hogwarts had been non-existent until sixth year. Being in different houses didn't encourage any sort of friendship between them until they ended up in all the same N.E.W.T electives and she was separated from the bumbling duo of Potter and Weasley – Tom shivered in horror, an involuntary sigh escaping him, at what might have been if either of them had been smart enough to join her.  

Hermione looked up at the sound and smiled brightly at him before making her way towards him.

"Don't you dare! You look like a bloody ragamuffin with all that flour covering you" he said and Hermione pouted, her lips curving into a smile as she skipped the last few feet between them and jumped into his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist. Her arms wound their way round his neck while his hands rested on the curve of her ass.

"You're late."

Tom nodded, walking them towards the kitchen table so he could set her upon it and pick the flour from her hair without dropping her. "Malfoy and I had a last-minute meeting with a client. Ended up taking much longer than it needed to" he murmured as he scourgified her skin and began to place open mouthed kisses, occasionally nipping the skin, along her neck. He smirked when he heard her moan.

"Tommmm" she groaned attempting to push him away, "I'm baking."

"Fuck baking" he growled in her ear, lifting her from the table and stumbling out of the kitchen with her still wrapped around him.

On the second day of Christmas, Hermione showed up at Tom's office ten minutes early practically bouncing and he'd stared at her in mild horror when she'd told him he was taking the rest of the day off to wander through muggle London with her, visiting the Christmas markets.

Still as they made their way through the crowds' hand in hand, Tom couldn't help but smile at how happy Hermione was, how much she was enjoying herself. She loved it all – the lights, the atmosphere, the people, all the little handmade items they spotted at various stalls. She'd even purchased an onyx snake figure for him and even though he'd rolled his eyes at the gesture he had allowed himself a small smile when he was sure she wasn't looking.

They'd had snacks from various stalls and shared a chocolate crepe for dessert before Tom had pulled Hermione into a dark alley and apparated them home to their flat where they'd promptly passed out on the sofa, Hermione sprawled across Tom.

The third, fourth and fifth days of Christmas were all similar in that Hermione dragged him, with a scowl on his face, around various markets and shops, with their garish Christmas decorations and loud music. They always got home, late in the evening, weighed down by various shopping bags filled with gifts for all their idiotic friends and Tom would always, always, appreciate the sight of their simple little tree in the corner of the room with its white lights and tasteful decorations – not a drop of tinsel in sight.

On the sixth day of Christmas, a Sunday, Tom woke up to the sound of retching. He stretched his arm across the bed in the hope of pulling Hermione closer to him, but instead found the bed cold and empty. His eyes opened and realisation dawned upon him that the violent sound that woke him must have been coming from her. He stumbled out of bed and made his way to the bathroom where he found her in only one of his t-shirts knelt on the floor beside the toilet, tears streaking her unusually pale face.

"Fuck" he muttered making his way towards her and gathering her hair up in his hand as she resumed vomiting. "You ok?" He murmured, rubbing a hand up and down her back, his thumb tracing circles as it did. Hermione nodded, flushed the toilet and stood, walking to the sink. She grimaced at the sight she saw and pulled her hair into a bun as she ran the hot water and washed her face before brushing her teeth to get the taste of acid from her mouth. She'd forgotten Tom was still in the room with her and when she turned and saw him standing with his brow furrowed in confusion, arms crossed across his bare chest and his pyjama pants hanging low across his hips, she felt that familiar flare of heat that usually resulted in her knickers being ruined. Unfortunately, this morning it coincided with another roll of her stomach and she barely made it back to the toilet before she was throwing up again, her boyfriend right behind her, comforting her.

They ended up on the sofa, their bed duvet draped over them as Tom spooned her from behind, when she'd finally found the strength to leave the bathroom.

"What do you want to do?"

Hermione didn't bother opening her eyes, and simply shrugged. She had no interest in doing anything other than spending the entire day, possibly the rest of her life, wrapped in his arms like a butterfly in a cocoon.

"Want me to stick a movie on?" He asked and she lifted her eyes to meet his. Tom hated the tv – the only reason they had one was so that when her parents came to visit they wouldn't comment on it, that and well Hermione had lived as a muggle for eleven years, she still had a penchant for trashy tv after a bad day.

"What kind of movie?" She murmured. Tom looked across the room for a moment before he looked down at her.

"A Christmas one?"

Hermione nodded and hid her grin – slowly but surely, she thought.

The seventh, eighth and ninth days of Christmas were quiet. They wrote Christmas cards, wrapped presents and watched a few more Christmas movies. Tom found himself eager to leave his dull office at the ministry, meet her in the atrium and apparate home together. The sight of the large, extravagant and gaudy tree that decorated the ministry made him feel ill and reminded him too much of the fake Christmas' he was forced to spend with his father in their family home when he was younger. There was no love between them – Tom Riddle Sr. vehemently blamed his son for his wife's, Merope's, death and Tom had never been able to convince the older man otherwise – he sometimes wondered if the fact Christmas was so close to the anniversary of her death, that his father hated the holiday so much. When he'd turned fifteen he'd stayed at Hogwarts and promised himself he'd never force himself to do something he hated for someone else.  

But the Christmas' he'd had at Hogwarts with Hermione and this one were different and he wondered if it was because he no longer cared only about himself – he was more concerned with making her happy, making sure she enjoyed her favourite holiday.

Tom was pretty sure, Hermione always thought he had ruined the tenth day of Christmas.

"You promised!" Hermione exclaimed as she took in the sight of Tom still dressed in his pyjamas while she was suited and booted, literally, to go ice-skating in Hyde Park with Harry, Draco, Ginny, Blaise, Theo and Daphne.  

Tom looked up from the paper and shrugged, not meeting Hermione's eyes as she stared at him. He could see the tears in her eyes and felt, for a moment, how disappointed she was but pushed on – he had his own plans for the day and he needed her out of the way for a few hours. Even if she did hate him for a few hours as a result.

"I did know such thing. You told me what the plans were but I, under no circumstances" he sneered, returning his gaze to the paper, "agreed to go with you."

Hermione stared at him and felt her magic react to her dangerous mood, flaring and threatening to lash out.

"So, you're just going to make me go on my own?" She whispered in disbelief. Tom shook his head and Hermione thought for a second, he was going to change his mind.

"You've never let anyone make you do anything love. I doubt you're going to start today." He'd barely finished speaking when he heard the front door slam and he sighed heavily.

"She's so fucking pissed!"

Tom looked up and scowled at the sight of his best friend standing with a second glass of fire whiskey for him.

"I know" he murmured, frowning and taking the shot, "I didn't think she would take it that badly. It's only ice-skating."

Draco smirked and took a sip of his own drink, "It is Granger." Tom nodded.

"Did you bring it?" He asked looking around to check that there wasn't anyone around to recognise them as Draco slid a package as surreptitiously as he could. "Thanks. How did you convince Potter to go with you to get it?"

Draco smirked and Tom rolled his eyes, "Never mind."

On the eleventh day of Christmas, Christmas eve and the day after the ice- skating debacle, Hermione woke up in bed alone, still wearing the t-shirt of Tom's she'd worn yesterday. The smell of bacon and the sound of Christmas music softly playing through the flat made her sit up and frown in confusion as she rubbed her temples with two fingers. She'd returned home last night to find the flat empty and proceeded to drink an entire bottle of red wine before crying herself to sleep in their empty bed. She was interrupted from thinking about it anymore by the sight of Tom in their doorway, a tray of breakfast in his hands and a sheepish smile on his face.

"Hey" he muttered, taking a tentative step towards her. Hermione didn't move and didn't let her eyes follow him as he crossed the room towards her, staring resolutely at the wall. She felt the bed dip behind her and his stubble against her shoulder as he placed a chaste kiss there. "I'm Sorry."

Hermione hummed and let him pull her into his embrace as he continued.

"I was an arse."

She smirked a little and snatched a slice of bacon from the plate, "And?"

"And I made you breakfast and I love you and we're finished work for a fortnight and I thought we could watch Home Alone again, and I'm sorry?" He murmured into her neck.

Hermione smiled – he really was sorry if he was making her breakfast and offering to stay in and watch another Christmas film with her – maybe she would give him the present she'd planned for him to unwrap last night tonight instead.

-

"Hermione? Love? Where are you?" Tom called as he made his way down the hallway to their bedroom. Hermione had gotten up twenty minutes ago and not returned and he'd grown impatient in waiting for her.

Tom gulped when he stepped into their bedroom and found his girlfriend wearing nothing but a large green bow that covered only her breasts and her cunt and a pair of black heels. He felt his dick, that had been half hard all night, pressed up against her backside as they'd spooned on the couch, spring to life. Hermione stood from the bed and twirled, her hair flowing with her, a coquettish smile on her face.

"You like?" She whispered then yelped as Tom threw himself across the room and pinned her to the bed, his left hand crushing her wrists above her head as his right skimmed the ribbon until it rested on the bow. He looked up at his girlfriend and watched her eyes widen as he pulled the bow apart and the ribbon fell from her body – she bit her lip.

"Fuck" Tom growled as he moved his mouth and took a nipple in it, rolling it between his teeth and nipping on it, even as he still held her down – her back arched.

"Yessss" Hermione hissed as his free hand found its way to rest against her cunt, the palm of it rubbing furiously against her clit, "fuck, Merlin, please Tom" she cried, thrashing against him, trying to reach the ledge he already had her dangling from. He let her nipple pop from his mouth and swiftly moved down her body, his mouth replacing his hand on her cunt. He sucked hard on her clit and her hands wound themselves into his hair as she held his face between her legs and came with a cry, his name falling from her lips repeatedly.  

When she opened her eyes, she saw him standing over her, working his hand over the head of his impossibly hard cock, as he watched her come down. She growled, he smirked and she pounced on him, shoving him onto the bed and sliding down his shaft as she knelt over him and proceeded to give him as good an orgasm as the one she'd just received.

"Fuck baby slow down" he hissed as he nipped at her neck and gripped her hips in an attempt to get her to hasten her quick movements. He was way too close and she felt so good, he knew he wouldn't last more than a few minutes.

"Fuck no" Hermione snarled and moved faster, her cunt sliding up his dick till only the head remained before slamming down again. Tom felt his breath leave his mouth in a hiss and reached between them to pinch her clit, because fuck her if she thought she could get away with making him cum this quickly and not having another orgasm of her own.  

She whimpered when she felt him do it and her cunt clenched him deep inside her as they both fell over the edge together, his mouth biting down hard on her tit as she slowed down and slumped against his taut body, his cock still pulsing inside her. He brought his mouth up to hers and gently kissed her, their tongues laving over the bite marks they'd made on each other's lips.

"Happy Christmas" he murmured into her mouth on the twelfth day of Christmas.

"Do you want your present now or in the morning?" Hermione asked sleepily, as Tom trailed a finger over the curve of her hip repeatedly, his eyes never leaving hers as he did – he swallowed.

"Depends. Do you want yours now or in the morning?" He asked meeting her gaze.

Hermione's eyes widened, "you got me something?"  

Tom only nodded and reached behind him into his bedside table to pull a wrapped box out. Hermione took the chance to sit up and pull the blankets up around herself, pulling her own present for him out of her bedside table. They sat looking at each other, small smiles on their faces before Hermione leaned over and kissed him chastely on the lips, swapping the presents as she did.

For a moment there was only the sound of wrapping paper being torn, as the two of them unwrapped their gifts before there was complete silence. Hermione raised her tear-filled eyes to meet his and they both rasped out a "really?" at the same time.

Hermione laughed and slipped her grandmother's engagement ring onto her finger, before climbing into Tom's lap as he stared at the sonogram of their baby she'd framed for him, his fingers tracing the outline of it.

"Yeah" they both whispered together, again, and neither of them could stop laughing as Tom clutched her tightly in his arms.

"I love you" she murmured, tears streaming down her face as she clasped his face in her hands and kissed him.

"I love Christmas" he murmured back, his hand coming to rest on her still, for the moment, flat stomach.

http://archiveofourown.org/works/12936432

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12750562/1/12-days-of-Christmas

[notsissannis]

Rules: List ten songs you’re into at the moment and tag ten people.

Tagged by my triads lover pal @synoir

this is the hardest cause I have over 700++ song on my spotify and I usually just put it on shuffle - because I want to delete some songs that I don’t enjoy anymore but ended up not deleting anything cause they bring back those good ol’ time - so I’ll just put on shuffle and pick the first 10 and tell yall why I don’t delete them.

Link them to soundcloud cause I’m using my sister’s laptop and I’m too lazy to log in to spotify and my soulmate, @cece2046 , can’t open youtube. so…

Oh, Su That song fits the two men from the extremely (fucking hot) rare triad perfectly. ps: they’re fucking hot.

Bloom - The Paper Kites 

: like what one of the comment on youtube said,

“This song is every sunset I’ve ever danced in, everyone I’ve ever loved, every time my bare feet touched blades of grass, every night I’ve fallen asleep smiling. It tugs at my chest and pulls me towards joyful memories and the promise of tomorrow. Thanks, paper kites.”

Stairway To Heaven - Led Zeppelin 

: Of my dad and his friend back in London when I was 4-5, and always with them during their man to man talk, sitting on the curb in front of our house.

Chocking On Flowers - Fox Academy

: Of relaxing days laying on the floor with my man and my cat and my watermelon.

First Day of My Life - Bright Eyes

: Of the gladness I felt when I ended up getting back together with my ex from 7 years ago and now we’re happy! 

“I’m glad I didn’t die before I met you.”

Ain’t No Sunshine - Bill Withers

: Of my first year of Uni and we were all just formed a pack. all we do was playing guitar and hang on the rooftop tennis court, watching sunrise. good ol’ days.

My Kind Of Woman - Mac Demarco

: Of my first love, young love, where it was all about gigs, cigs, weeds, late night hangs, breaking red lights hangs, driving the other direction of the roads. sigh.

And of Sirius Black singing this to Hermione Granger in some time travel fic that I read looong time ago before I got my ff password back and dammit I can’t find that fanfic!

Summer Wine - Nancy Sinatra w Lee Hazlewood

: Of giddiness! I love old songs! I love Nancy Sinatra and oohh Hazlewood’s voice complimented hers just fine! I love this song so much! 

ps: Summer Wine is such a Bond song.

pps: Lana Del Rey’s version was goood too omfg Barrie’s voice tho!

One Armed Scissor - At The Drive In

: Of one of our band late night gigs when we found out Relationship of Command was their last album before they split! 

“Cause I’m a million miles away, Will you get this letter.” MY HEART

Roxanne - The Police

: Of my first love, young love, where it was all about gigs, cigs, weeds, late night hangs, breaking red lights hangs, driving the other direction of the roads. 

And of Moulin Rouge version, one of the best musical movie, it reminds me so much of my pole dance class! we did one of this song and it was so fucking tense I swear the best!

The Funeral - Band of Horses (The only song I chose)

: Of sadness, of every ‘too late’, of every grey days. it just hits you right in the feels, you know. and somehow it reminded me of my dad and his friends and their impromptu gigs in his old meeting room (where our landlady told us the previous owner hung himself)

Now tagging some people that I’d love to know more! @cece2046 @dragonsandotters-dh @honeyweeds @dameesmeralda @ash-castle @sweetlessly @chormacs @fredsghost 

less than 10 cause other people I wanna tag either already did this or already get tagged by @synoir

[cece2046]

Close the Curtain - Chap 5

@reynardinepttr​ this angel completed the beta only a few hours after receiving my email, yet I took three days to post it. Work. You know.

@sissannis​ is a menace and the alpha reader.

@honeyweeds​ just because I feel like it. *shrug*

AO3 / FFN

Luke Nott obviously overestimates his influence on her. It might be her fault for indulging him, but Hermione is not ready to admit it. Age gives her experience, self assurance, and patience, but she still detests admitting being wrong.

So, Luke Nott has a larger ego than she expected. Big deal. All her life she’s been working with men with egos the size of the Pacific Ocean. It’s depressing how many of them are out there.

Currently, the young and handsome egomaniac is going through her notes on their research. Behind her back, no less.

“Mr. Nott.” She finally made a sound after watching him for five minutes.

He jumped ten feet from the floor. To his credit, he’s not flustered at all. “Ms. Granger! I didn’t hear you.”

“Obviously.” She nodded to her desk with her notebook open.

His demeanor changed. It’s amazing how some people can do that. He went from this innocent and curious apprentice to a predator in the blink of an eye. Hermione blinked again just to be sure.

“Now, now. Hermione.” He stepped closer to her slowly, elegantly. She stood her ground. “You know it’s no way to treat an academic partner by shutting him out.”

She smiled. “You should know your status is considerably lower than that of a partner.”

He’s still moving closer, eyes flashing dangerously. “Oh really? But Malfoy is?”

“Neither of you has the capability.”

It’s terribly arrogant of her to say that. Doesn’t mean it’s not true. Hermione would have been mortified if this came out of her mouth twenty years ago, but now it’s a different story. She knows what she’s capable of and she’s not afraid to set the rules and draw the boundaries anymore.

Apparently arrogance turns Nott on, or whatever twisted mechanism he’s operating by. He flashed a bright smile to her, canines white and perfect, making the smile a little wolfish. His breath is by her ear since Hermione refused to back off during the whole power play. “I so like a woman with confidence.”

She put a hand on his chest to prevent him from moving any closer. “They are the most difficult kind to manipulate.”

He laughed a little. She can feel the low vibration under her palm. “But the best kind to win over.”

She’s almost excited at that moment. It’s been a while since someone seriously flirted with her. The fact that there’s no real feelings attached to this makes it even better. She thought of another man in a back alley, almost a silhouette, devouring another woman with so much concentration and sadness. She didn’t need to ask. He didn’t need to say anything. She understood him almost immediately without any verbal exchange. She knows what he needs, but she can’t help him.

Not now.

Her palm is still pressed against his hard chest. She pushed him away slowly, looking him in the eye. “Get out of my office.”

He let her push him, smile still on his lips. “Why are you so eager to make me leave, Hermione? What are you afraid of?”

“I’m afraid the amount of audacity in this room is over the Ministry suggested standard.”

He laughed, dodging the accusation, and closed his hand around her wrist. “Let me in.”

“Back off, then.”

“I can help you with this. I have the expert resources. I have my family library. We can make groundbreaking discoveries! Together. Hermione,” he said eagerly, eyes shining, “We can do this together.”

She sighed. “This is exactly what I’m trying to avoid.”

A little confusion and amusement. “You’re avoiding success?”

“No, I’m avoiding you getting overzealous and fucking it up.”

“Passion is what makes things come true!”

She touched her finger to his temple. “Intelligence is what makes things come true. Hands off and butt out, Mr. Nott.”

He pouted and made puppy dog eyes.

“Not working,” she said.

“I can’t believe you.” He shook his head. “You know this is big! I need this more than that Malfoy prick!”

“I thought he’s your father’s friend?” She asked.

“Doesn’t make him my friend,” he said sullenly.

“That’s neither here or there.” She moved around her desk and started to reorganize her files. “He has his role, and you have yours. Stay in it.”

“Oh yeah? What’s his role then? Your fuck buddy?” He said acidly.

She paused. “I beg your pardon?”

He turned to her, eyes burning. “How long have you two been sleeping together? Do you seriously think you could get away with it? We have the same titles but you’re playing favoritism!”

“You’re out of line, Nott,” she said calmly. “You’re dismissed for the day.”

He stood there in utter disbelief, and abruptly, he left the room in a few strides.

She stretched her back and sighed. Brilliant.

She’s lying in Draco Malfoy's bed, smoking.

“I must repeat that I resent being used like this and you smoking in my bedroom without taking your clothes off.” His eyes are as hard as can be.

She just toed her boots off without replying.

“I hope that’s just a start.”

“Who knows.” She inhales deeply, frowning.

“Hey.” He turns to her. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m thinking.”

“Surprise, surprise.”

She didn’t say anything until the cigarette’s gone. Draco was almost asleep when she said, “What if we really manage it?”

“Manage what?”

“You know what.”

“I know this, and I know that, and I think I know something not wholly relevant but still interesting, but I have no idea which one you’re referring to.”

“Well I said ‘what if’ and I said ‘we’, didn’t I?”

“Huh.”

“So. Your thoughts?”

“I must say I’ve never believed that we could really do it.”

“I might be close.”

He propped himself up with his elbow. “Seriously?”

She hummed.

“Wow.” He plumped back down. “Do you realize what that means?”

“Chaos,” she said. “Death. Distrust. Mental disorders. Ethical dilemmas.”

“Good. I see you haven’t lost your logical mind.”

“I’m not going to do anything. I’m just thinking about it.”

“Thinking about doing something?”

“Twenty years ago? Definitely. Now?” She tapped another cigarette out. “I have too much to lose now.”

“Really? I thought you have less to lose now.”

She slapped his chest without looking at him. “That’s low.”

Her hand stayed there. Warmth sinks into her skin slowly. Her cigarette stays unlit.

“Granger?”

“What?”

“Wanna fuck?”

“Not really.”

“Okay.”

It feels good to be here. In Draco’s bed. She never expected herself to feel this way, but life works in mysterious ways, or God, or whatever or whoever up there. She stared at the ceiling, brain turning and turning. This is ending soon, but it has a high chance of ending ugly. She’s the only one who knows the chilling truth and possible consequences. She can take it. She’s not so sure about Harry. It’s comforting to know that she has an ally who’s just as cold and heartless as she,, then, whose bed she’s currently lying in.

Except that he’s not cold or heartless. At all.

She’s still the only one who can do unthinkably cruel things with her bare hands.

And it’s exceptionally lonely.

She climbed out of the bed. “Do you think they’ve left?”

He didn’t move. “I bet they’re still there. You might have to use the floo.”

She looked out through the crack between curtains. Yes, they’re still there. Lurking in the shadows with alarming patience and professional skepticism. For a moment she feels like she’s the prey instead of the hunter. Strange feeling, that. Hasn’t popped up for decades.

“Or you could stay.” His voice is sombre.

She thought she’s already past the age of apologizing for her actions, but apparently not. Apparently people just can’t stop hurting people no matter how much experience they’ve had. Even if you know better, you can’t prevent it from happening. Every decision has its repercussions. If you’re afraid of hurting people, you may as well do nothing.

But she’s never good at standing idly by while letting others get their hands dirty.

“Draco. We talked about - ”

“Yeah.” He turned aloof in one second. “I don’t know why I bothered.”

She walked towards him. “You bothered because you care.”

He remained silent, watching her move around the bed and sit down besides him.

Her fingers held his hands tightly, as if trying to force him to admit something terrible. Something horrifying. Something that can tear him apart or make him complete, all depending on one answer.

It’s not happening today.

“You ready to go?” He asked her.

She sighed, her eyes boring into him with traces of sadness and understanding. “You stay. I’ll be using your library.”

He saluted carelessly behind her back.

She stood in front of the fireplace in Harry’s house. It has been Harry’s house for years now. She rarely thought of Sirius during the war. A war has the power to suck you into it, leaving you little energy to dwell on the past. And then she left, relocated, started all over again. She kept writing letters to her friends, asking for forgiveness. She got a job and then a better one and then another. She fell in love and fell out of love and went through all five stages of grief. She discovered so much about herself and the world that the war is not the biggest part in her life anymore. It lost the power to control her perspective. She moved on from it, gaining the strength to look back whenever she wants. She thought of Sirius when she was reading a novel and a woman in it said, “The tragedy of life, Howard, is not that the beautiful die young, but that they grow old and mean.”

It was a beautiful afternoon. Sunlight cut through her window and drew everything in her apartment in shadows on her floor. She suddenly let go of a piece of herself that’s been stuck in that night at the end of her Fifth Year. A piece of that girl (barely a woman, really) who’s so afraid and confused, mostly confused. Life bowed to her, smiled maliciously, and pulled open the veil to reality.

Why did he die?

What sense does that make?

What’s the meaning of it?

If not everything is logical, how am I supposed to protect others? Or myself?

How am I supposed to win if this world doesn’t play by rules?

She forgot her doubt in the run, in the adrenaline, in the torture and fight and killing. And years later, oceans away, she held a book that answered her through the dust of time and space. Unintentionally, of course. And she thought of Sirius Black. That’s the day Hermione Granger lost her fear of death.

“I’m sorry.” She touched the photo sitting on the mantle piece, in which the old Order is laughing and waving and living. “Now I’m back.”

“Do you regret it?”

She turned around. Harry is leaning on the opposite wall, a glass of water in his hand, ankles crossed.

“No.” She didn’t hesitate.

Harry gave her a very, very slow smile. “That’s the Hermione I’ve been missing.”

She snorted. “Admit it. You hate me.”

He nodded. “I hate you. I love you. I miss you. Who says I can’t do them at the same time?”

She would really love to know what those feelings would be afterwards. It would be so convenient if she could play human minds like Arithmancy formulas, working out what would happen if she made different choices at the next crossroad. If she could do that, if she did, would the “I hate you and I love you and I miss you and I hate you most of all” today become “I love you and don’t leave me and don’t ever leave me again”?

She just leaned on the wall next to him and handed him a Galleon coin. “I love you, too.”

He eyed the coin curiously, and then recognition settled in. “Is that…?”

“Yep,” she said in false cheerfulness. “Everything’s gonna work out."

[cece2046]

Never Ask

from a prompt by @honeyweeds who is also the beta

Pansy Parkinson × Hermione Granger

AO3

FFN

She ran for ten miles, had three cartons of ice cream (offsetting the running), and sent sixty-seven texts to Draco today.

D: Pansy

D: Pan

D: You gotta admit you’re obsessed with Granger

P: Shut the fuck up

D: You’re the one who just won’t shut up

She was standing in front of the campus cafe when Viktor hit on her. She didn’t know why he’d hit on a lesbian. Maybe school soccer team boys are all like this. They think they can get whatever they want 24/7 as long as they put their mind to it, since their mind’s so precious that they have to put it on a pedestal and never use it.

“Not interested, mate.” She said.

“Come on. You won’t know if you don’t open your mind.” He wore this charming-good-rainbow-and-sunshine smile on his face. It was disgusting.

“I’ll open your abdomen if you don’t fuck off.” She deadpanned.

His hand touched her arm. “I like your sass.”

“I like vagina.”

His touch was making her uncomfortable. Not exactly afraid, but uneasy nonetheless. She didn't see Granger walking towards them. She was focusing on getting his hand off her.

And then soft lips covered hers. Time paused. The wind paused. The sound of distant people paused. There was the taste of mint toothpaste. The lips moved against hers. Tiny friction. Electricity. She thought of years ago, when she was a little girl, she’d spent every summer day on a beach. The toxic illusion of freedom.

“Hi Vik.” Granger waved a little, smiling.

“Hermione! Hey! I didn’t know you two are a thing!” Viktor laughed and stepped up to hug Granger.

She stood there, dumbfounded, and watched the two friends chat for over ten minutes.

P: It’s not like she’s beautiful. Or warm. Or so fucking soft.

D: Oh she is

P: How the fuck would you know??????

P: I’m gonna kill you

P: You bloody albino ferret

D: I’m not in the country

D: Bite me

She knew Granger’s schedule. She followed her. She saw her face every time she closed her eyes. Her face in a lecture. Contemplating whatever the professor was talking about. Her face when she talked to her friends. The tiny crease between her eyebrows. Her face when Pansy called her names. Hard and cold. Contempt. Hostility. Her face when she came. Flushed. Fragile. Imaginative. Unreal. Never happened. Never happened before her eyes.

Her fingers moved faster, harder. Granger’s lips on hers. Granger’s hard eyes on her. “You’re not even a bully.” Granger’s calm voice. “You’re just childish. Grow up.” She inserted another finger into herself. Give it to me. You condescending little bitch. Insult me. Do your best. Hit me, if you have the nerve. “You’re not better than me.” You liar. You vixen. Touch me with your poisonous tongue. Give me your sweet hatred. Again. Again! Again! Yes!

She was lying on her floor. Her back hurt. A horn blared down the street. The Edinburgh History of Scottish Literature: Enlightenment, Britain and Empire was staring at her from her bed, ever so judgmental.

D: You’re pathetic

P: You think I don’t know that?

D: Just hook up, okay?

P: You say that like it’s easy

D: It is what you want it to be

P: That’s unusually deep for you

P: Blaise?

P: Are you using Draco’s phone?

“Do you like it?” Granger asked her.

She couldn’t speak. She was trembling and it was hard to catch breath. She didn’t want to talk to Granger. She didn’t want to know her in a more insightful way. All she had to know is the warmth of her chest, the passion in her words, and the feather light touch of her fingers and lips and tongue. She was being played like a violin. To hell with Paganini. He’s fucking responsible for this.

A whine ripped itself out of her throat. She punched the desk under her body.

“I. Asked. Do you. Like it?” Granger’s face appeared above her. Her hair was slightly messed up. Face flushed and lips glistening, she looked like a perfect wet dream.

“Get the fuck down.” She gritted out.

“Answer me or you won’t get any.”

“Are you fucking threatening me?”

“Choose your reaction wisely, Parkinson. I’ve read books about this.”

She snorted a laugh. “Of course.”

Then pleasure covered her like ocean wave. It drowned her. Devoured her. Digested her so she’s not there anymore. She’s just a part of something much grander. More beautiful.

“Wow.” She said quietly, after all was over.

Granger sat on the floor, grinning like a cat. “Do you like it?”

She shook her head unbelievably. “Why didn’t you carry out your threat?”

Granger sighed with great annoyance and suffering. “Of course.”

She watched her stand up, shoulder her backpack, and walk out of the abandoned classroom.

D: Wow

P: I know

D: Would it kill you to pay that girl a compliment

P: As a matter of fact, it will

D: Yeah I don’t even know why i asked

She saw Granger kiss a boy in front of the school stadium one afternoon when she was trying to walk back home and mind her own business.

Well.

“Never took you as a slut, Granger.”

Granger rolled her eyes. She rolled her eyes so hard it’s almost cute. “I’m not gonna wait for you indefinitely, okay?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I think you know what I’m talking about.”

“Could you even be more condescending?”

“You and I both know that I can.”

She suppressed her smile. It was an unsettling feeling. She sent the boy a look. She didn’t try to be intimidating. The boy looked like he wouldn’t be able to make it.

“I’ll see you around, Dany.” Granger stood on her toes and gave the boy another kiss on his lips.

She almost vomited. “What are you playing at?”

Brown eyes shined with mischief. “Are you jealous?” A hand flew to her chest. “Awwwww. Pansy! I’m touched.”

She used all her bitchiness to control her blush. “I’m not opposed to your service.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

She tried harder. “Do you offer it to the whole school?”

Granger moved incredibly close to her, but not touching. She could feel her warm breath on the skin behind her ear. “I’m not getting angry, Parkinson. Take your time. Think it through. You have to ask for it if you want something.” She heard a strange tilt in her voice. “It’s okay if it’s not me, but you have to learn to do that someday.”

There was a sinking feeling in her stomach. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Granger touched their foreheads for a second. “Oh you stupid, stupid girl.”

D: I’ll ask her for you, alright?

P: Wtf?

P: STOP!!!!

P: Don’t you dare!!!!

P: Draco!!!

D: You’re too annoying

D: I’m ending this text marathon

D: I’m asking

D: Just get it over with

P: I’m gonna kill you

P: I’m gonna cut your dick off and kill you

P: You stop it this instant!!!!

D: What does carpe diem mean?

D: What kind of answer is that?

D: Pans?

“The doctor said two months, but I intend to live a little longer than that.” Granger was saying. “I need to beat you losers one more time on final exam.”

She couldn’t breathe. She was frozen outside the door. She could hear Potter shouting, Weasley stuttering something unintelligible, and Granger’s soft voice comforting them. Her stomach hurt. Her legs felt like jelly. Suddenly it’s not a door. It’s a wall between two countries. She could never break it down to bricks. It’s too heavy. Too hard. Too much.

All she had to do was to raise her hand and knock. Or just push it open. Either way. All she had to do was to ask for something she wanted.

She didn’t move.

[alwaystiredheaux]

I Did Something Bad

The title of this oneshot is a true reflection of both my behaviour in writing this and Hermione’s as presented here - also this is probably shit

also yeah it’s explicit and just i am trash

@ninjafairy86 @honeyweeds @sissannis @annamonk @littlemulattokitten @nerysdax - you all like tomione right?!

“They say I did something bad But why's it feel so good? Most fun I ever had And I'd do it over and over and over again if I could It just felt so good”

Sometimes, Tom will get home from work and she’ll be there, laying out the dinner and smiling at him -talking about her day and asking about his other times, he’ll be home before her and he’ll make the dinner. They’ll eat, retire to their living room to read various books and discuss different magical theories before he leads her to bed and they make love gently throughout the night - eyes open, gentle kisses, whispered declarations of love.

But sometimes. Sometimes he’ll arrive home and the house that he murdered his father in will be as quiet as it was that night. He’ll make his way to the drawing room, loosening his tie and draping his robes over an armchair on the way and pour himself a tumbler of firewhiskey before making his way to the master bathroom where he knows she’ll be waiting.

Tonight, after a long day listening to the Minister of Magic argue with his various department heads (himself included), he knows before he even reaches the apparition point what kind of night it will be because she too, has had a long day of listening to the Minister of Magic argue.

When he finally pushes open the bathroom door and finds her laying in the bath, her hair pulled up into a loose bun with curly tendrils hanging from it and a glass of red wine dangling between her fingertips, he can’t help but smirk and walk towards her, adjusting his erection as he does.

They never got along at school, but that was to be expected. He was in Slytherin and her in Gryffindor – there was no option but to hate each other. House prejudices demanded it. Still, they didn’t have to like each other to sit in the library and push each other, trading the top spot in all their subjects only encouraged them to be better, all in the hopes of besting the other, even if it was only for a week or two. It wasn’t a surprise that her friends hated him or his, her. They called her “mudblood” and she hexed them. She called them inbred bigots and they hexed her. It didn’t faze either of them and they’d meet in the library a few hours later and do their homework. Neither was surprised at their appointment of head students – who else could have possibly deserved it, certainly not Malfoy no matter how much he complained or Padma Patil who, for all her Ravenclaw smarts could never climb higher than fourth in their year

Their relationship happened without either of their knowledge – sharing a dormitory will do that to you. Sharing hours with only one person who, from the very first day of classes at the tender age of eleven, has understood you better than anyone else, will have them seeping into your skin until you wonder how you ever thought anyone else could be, would be a better match.

They denied their growing feelings for a year. Ignored how fast their heart’s would beat when they saw the other, how hard the fingernails would dig into the palms of their hands when he saw her with Potter or Weasley, when she watched Parkinson or Greengrass drape themselves over him and how he didn’t push their hands away – how he let them trail their fingers over his immaculate robes and whisper things into his ear. They ignored it all until they couldn’t – until it hurt too much (for both of them, regardless of what he said).

She loved him and it was immutable. So it didn’t matter when he murdered his father and paternal grandparents with her standing beside him. She didn’t flinch when he told her of his plans to weed out the weak, to protect their society against those that would harm the wizarding world with no regards for the future. He wanted to lead them to a better tomorrow, away from ridiculous blood prejudices that suited only pure-bloods (whose blood remained pure only as a result of severe in-breeding and wasn’t that just fucking ironic), that discriminated against him and her. She agrees with him on so many things, and when they disagree they don’t huff and puff about it but discuss it like adults and come to a rational compromise – no silly falling out like children, not like all the arguments she’s ever had with Harry or Ron about things so inconsequential she wonders how they ever became friends in the first place.

-

The first time she kills someone she hadn’t even meant to do it. It was an accident. A happy accident, but an accident none the less. She’d been wandering through Diagon alley late one night after having drinks with Ginny, now that the younger girl was graduated, when she’d been dragged into an alley, had her magic bound and been leered at by someone who clearly was a few knuts short in the head. She hadn’t even thought about the consequences of stabbing the heel of her stiletto into his neck when he’d leaned in and whispered all the things he was going to make her submit to, right there in that dirty alley, like the little slut she apparently was and when the wound sprayed blood all over her and her would be attacker had stumbled back, wide eyed with blood bubbling out of his mouth, she hadn’t flinched when she’d removed the shoe, pushed him back, straddled him and repeated the action until he was lifeless beneath her. She slipped the shoe back on, clutched her bag and wand tightly into her hands and apparated into the drawing room of her and Tom’s house.

He’d been on her in a second, checking her over for the source of blood, repeatedly asking if she was alright – the worry was palpable in his voice. But when she’d told him exactly what had happened she’d felt his cock stir against her back and had been unable to contain the moan that escaped her knowing that her actions, her inexcusable blood-lust was turning him on, was going to get him off. She’d bent over right there and he’d slammed into her hard expecting it to be rough – he’d almost cum when he found her wet, practically dripping for him.

Apparently he wasn’t the only one who got off on murder.

So yes, the first time was an accident.

But only the first time.

-

Hermione sighed when she felt his fingers trail across the nape of her neck and bit her lip, silencing a moan when he dipped his hand into the bloody water and pinched her left nipple with his blunt fingernails.

“Good day love?” he murmured into her hair as he pulled her up out of the bath and turned her in his arms – her legs automatically wrapping around his waist, his clothed cock rubbing harshly against her slick heat as he led them to the shower. She smirked at him as his cock twitched.

“Hmmmm same old, same old” she sighed, her head falling back and a hiss escaping her lips when she felt him wandlessly and non-verbally vanish his clothes and she could feel him, hot and hard against her cunt.

The hot water pelting from the shower head, his fingers dancing on her clit and the sight of all the blood being washed from her body had her cumming around the three finger’s he was relentlessly fucking her with , in minutes. She scowled though when he chuckled at her and dropped to her knees quickly wrapping her tongue around his cock, already covered in pre-cum.

She knew the sight of her on her knees, deep throating his always impressive erection with blood stains still on her face, would have him spending himself down her throat in minutes – she was very rarely wrong.

When she’d swallowed him down, he’d growled and hoisted her into his arms, slamming his still throbbing erection into her, setting a brutal pace as his hips snapped against her pelvis and both of them were moaning oh gods please fuck harder- you’re so fucking tight every fucking time sweetheart – tom tom tom fuck baby please merlin god please – sight of you covered in blood fuck baby I can’t fuck I can’t even – yes oh fuck yes please please please – Hermione fuck baby Hermione – I’m gonna cum fuck yeah now now right there – fuckkkkkk.

-

They always arrive at work together no matter what the night before entailed.

Tom Riddle and his muggleborn fiancé Hermione Granger are the perfect couple who overcame seven years of prejudice at school before joining together and uniting their various friendship groups.

Who are pushing the wizarding world in a better direction, inclusive of all, regardless of blood status – the perfect couple.