𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐨 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝

𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑓𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑢𝑑𝑑𝑦 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ

[ichorled]

#ICHORLED     .     a  dependent  blog  for  @morsfm  .  featuring  𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐚  𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤,  𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐤  𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐦,  𝐚𝐧𝐝  𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫  𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐰  .

my love has concrete feet .

[draumas]

[ichorled]

her visit to grimmlaud place is intended to be swift this time . though, malinee always finds little ways to get distracted when she's here . or, well, one very specific, self-sabotaging and lightly hedonistic and self-obsessed way . she relays the information she has to one of the higher ups, mostly idle gossip from some cultured class gathering she attended since her last visit, and has every intention of leaving once she's through . but then she catches sight of @valians, ever so conveniently on her way out through the gardens . and it would be ever so terribly rude not to say hello, wouldn't it ? scamander would certainly give her hell for it later, but it's rare, in this world especially, to have and find something, someone so light and easy . to speak to a person, and have it feel like breath of fresh air, instead of a terrible weight . the flattery doesn't hurt, either . “ i was wondering when i’d get the chance to see you again . ”

[valians]

father   and   son   bore   matching   wounds       :       skull   ensnared   by   a   serpent,       never   to   escape   a   curse   that   is   eternally   etched   upon   porcelain   flesh       —     filth   teaches   filth,       and   cursed   to   be   tainted   until   one   dares   to   break   the   cycle.       he   never   saw   much   of   himself   in   his   father,       even   if   he's   only   ever   heard   the   opposite.       twin   azurian   flames   burning   brighter   together,     threatening   to   swallow   the   other   whole   when   met   with   a   proximity   that   is   far   too   scathingly   close.       he's   been   avoiding   meeting   his   father   for   a   while   now,       typically   long,     ardent   strides   now   languid       …       with   the   manor   now   being   rather   vacant   in   comparison   to   just   a   few   days   prior,       he   had   a   lot   more   time   to   take   in   every   inch   of   his   house   that   has   never   truly   been   a   home.       the   family   portrait   passed   by   his   peripheral,       and   scorpius   almost   found   himself   pausing       —       as   if   needing   a   reminder   of   who   he's   going   to   meet.       the   manor   is   devoid   of   @ichorled   more   often   than   not,       and,       in   his   steed,       lie   a   shallow   reminder   of   a   looming   legacy   that   is   soon   to   be   overtaken.     fire,       and   blood       :     ash,       and   bone       —       the   price   you   pay   for   being   a   malfoy   is   as   close   as   one   could   get   to   tasting   godhood.      father,       father       :       how   would   you   see   me   now       ?     prodigal   heir   turned   bitter   pill,       will   you   ever   meet   my   eyes,       and   tell   me   that   you   did   not   regret   having   me       ?      a   knock,       slow,       and   steady,       before   scorpius   pushes   the   double   doors   to   the   study.       there   are   only   two   places   where   draco   could   be,    here   or   nowhere   at   all.       when   it   comes   to   family,     secrets   have   become   a   more   familiar   language   than   affection.       “       i   take   it   you   finished   brooding,       father,       ”       hands   crossing   across   one   another,     hidden   behind   his   back       —       back   straight,       and   hues   never   wavering   as   it   meets   the   other's   own.       despite   his   bite,       the   respect,       the   love,       will   always   be   there.       “       you   wanted   to   see   me       ?       ”

[ichorled]

a collection of incriminating and intimate prose, all addressed to his son, rest on his desk in pristine order . he's read each one front to back, in indiscriminate and scathing detail, despite the private content enclosed in them . after catching and dismissing his son and his son's surprising and dangerous conquest as the masquerade, draco took it upon himself to seek out all he's been missing regarding his heir . as it turns out, he's been missing a lot . the cost of providing a life of freedom, it seems, is risk, or impulsive blindness to it . but perhaps draco's father had it right in keeping him draco on such tight and uncomfortable reigns all his life . and perhaps it's time draco tightens the hold he has on his . he studies his son, in silence, unmoved, from his side of the office . he used to think him a mirror of himself, and hope for him to be anything but, but the contents of these letters, and his blundering and hedonist actions at the masquerade prove scorpius to be just the same, and a stranger all at once . “ sit . ”

[isabelladjanis]

Anna (2019) Dir. Luc Besson

[ichorled]

there is nothing more unnatural than a parent outliving their child . death is inevitable in war, he knows this, but he never considered that he wouldn't be the first of them to greet the earth . and yet, dawn breaks with the sound of a mother's anguished cries, and a father's screams as he bows over the mangled corpse of their beloved son, as if he might still protect him from this fate . as if he might implore some higher power, if there ever was one, since he is no longer inclined to believe, to take him instead . hours have passed since then, and the father's screams have since transformed into dutiful silence . he tells himself that he has to be strong, and so he makes himself strong . he tends to his family, wrapped in their grief, in each other, until they're all too tired to stand . until some have found sleep in their parents' bed, and some of sought solace in solitude . he is tempted to keep them close, to never let them out of his sight or mind again, but reminds himself that grief takes different forms . and that they can't stay locked in this room forever, try as he might . once hannah, and all of their children, surviving children have accounted for, he takes a moment for himself . bereaved by the window, until he finally allows himself to break down, with only @crimsonsworn to witness .

[ichorled]

the scent of death lingers on his robes like cologne, and he considers, for a moment, tossing it in the hearth . peeling it off his skin, and burning it in his armati hotel suite to rid of the invisible evidence remaining on his designer skin . but then he considers that this is a remarkably made suit, and that it would be a real shame to lose it over some invisible stain, or uncharacteristic moment of guilt or regret . xue longbottom's final pleas can haunt his conscience for the night, and it certainly will, right down to the bottom of some fine scotch, but what it will not do is flatten his appearances . the loreley is bustling as if nothing happened, so the politician, in his haunted robes, weaves through the crowd as if he hasn't spent the night as an accomplice of death . posed as if he's been here all along, he drains his glass before maneuvering behind his favoured partner, friend, arm snaked around her waist, lips pressed against her ear, as if he's been there, wanting, all night . “          i might say i was worried when i lost sight of you at the manor,        ” he muses, grinning, the weight of scotch heavy on his tongue . “          but you look as if you made it out better than anyone . ravishing, as always, @materializes .        ”

[ichorled]

accepting memes for draco malfoy, ender rosier, isra aslan, neville longbottom, vesta rowle, and victoire weasley . please send all queries here, and specify which muse you would like to hear from .

[misericors]

This was a moment he'd waited a long time for. There were very few people who'd ever fucked him over, so to speak. None had stuck with him the way she had. And she had - she had deceived him utterly. Cassius had believed so many of her lies, craved to believe them, wanted them. As he had wanted her. The pale delicacy of her hair was the only thing that lit the forest, pure almost, a light that beckoned to him. It had, no doubt, made her equally visible to the dark creatures that lurked in the forest, that had watched as she had returned, time and time again. And had reported that fact to him.

"There's not many part-Veela left in England, you know," Cassius called out, after several long moments he had spent simply watching her. She meant nothing, of course. Not anymore. If he was drinking her in, it was because he had spent so much time searching, so much time craving revenge. He had to savour it ... savour the look of her. He stepped forward, eyes locked onto her, until he was just in reach. Until he could have touched her. At his side, his fingers flexed, a phantom wanting.

"There's the Sefik family, an illustrious line. Powerful. Believe me, one look at Zeliha Sefik - it's like touching heaven. Or like a dream of hell," he said, private smile lying on his lips. "Then the Delacour-Weasleys. They've lived in hiding for years, so it was difficult to find anyone with solid information. But I'm very persistent. Their eldest daughter was born not long after the Battle of Hogwarts. Victoire, they called her. Which means victory, in French, I believe." Cassius laughed, high and cold. "Rather sad, that, isn't it? But poetic." He stared her down, eyes gleaming, "I can really say I've conquered victory. Tasted it. Had it. In more ways than one, no?"

[ichorled]

st  catchpole  is  familiar  ground  .  just  east  of  her  grandparents,  she  spent  summers  of  her  childhood  running  through  the  quiet  glen,  inspecting  and  poking  at  the  flora  and  fauna  that  call  the  forest  home  .  and  despite  the  creatures  lurking  in  the  dark,  even  as  a  child,  she  never  felt  afraid  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  trees  .  it’s  like  she  and  the  forest  and  the  creatures  living  in  it  had  an  understanding  .  like  the  creatures  sensed  her  intent,  and  something  familiar  under  her  skin  too  .  the  unnatural  radiance  of  a  girl  just  a  little  unlike  the  norm  .  just  a  little  unnatural,  a  little  agrestal  .  a  little,  curious  creature  just  doing  her  best  to  survive  like  the  rest  of  them  .  

 but  the  catchpole  forest  transforms  on  this  night  .  the  familiar  golden  snidget’s  evening  song  is  silenced  upon  his  approach,  and  the  entire  forest,  once  a  breathing  mechanism,  stops  dead,  as  if  it  never  claimed  to  be  alive  at  all  .  as  if  the  roots  that  stopped  her  from  stumbling  as  a  child  never  animated  .  as  if  the  memories  that  transformed  this  place  into  a  harbor  of  light  disappeared  .  even  the  gleam  of  the  blossom  she  came  to  harvest  appears  to  dull  in  his  presence,  like  he’s  snuffed  out  the  light  from  it  all  .

 fear  threatens  to  immobilize  her  .  the  last  time  she  marked  him,  nearing  a  decade  ago,  she’d  been  a  different  person  .  in  name,  in  elaborate  disguise,  but  also  in  spirit  .  she’d  been  braver  then  .  but  tonight,  her  pale  knuckled  fist  clenched  around  ash,  she’s  never  felt  more  afraid  .  she’s  no  match  for  him  .  in  arms,  in  strength,  he’s  stronger  than  she  is  .  she  understood  that  then,  too  .  but  it  mattered  less  back  then  .  because  back  then,  she  could  pretend  to  be  someone  else  .  someone  that  could  be  stronger,  lethal  .  but  named,  she  feels  herself  retreating  back  to  herself  .  to  the  girl  that  lives  in  the  phoenix  nest  and  refuses  to  take  flight  .  but  perhaps,  she  thinks,  she  can  find  her  old  self  again  .  perhaps,  she  can  pretend  one  last  time  .  the  smug,  unshrinking  smile  of  a  familiar stranger  spreads  slowly  across  her  face  .         “        took  you  long  enough  .          ”

[ichorled]

she leaves the phoenix's nest less and less often the days . even her bedroom remains in pristine order, untouched, as if no one lives there at all . usually, victoire finds rest on one of the spare cots in the hospital, never willing to go too far, just in case she's needed . just in case something goes wrong . the long nights following the successful raid on malfoy manor are taxing, but when things finally die down, when the most critically injured are set and stable, she still can't bring herself to go to her bedroom and sleep . so, she opts to use those extra hours to replenish their stock . a task typically reserved for someone of lesser rank, and skill, but it's better than lying still .

she's looking, specifically, for moly . it's white bloom more visible at night, it's the perfect hour to harvest it's root for healing . and though it's reckless to go alone, especially at night, she's never found trouble in st catchpole forest . she knows it like the back of her hand .

her wand illuminates the way, breathing steady as she searches the long familiar grounds for the flower . hand steady as she easily, and recklessly mistakes the crunch of leaves for wind, or an animal, and not something, or someone, far more dangerous . ( @misericors )

[firstlvght]

the  universe  has  such  a  twisted sense  of  humor,  and  it  brings  a  bitter  smile  across  her  features  as  draco  walks  into  the  living  room  of  her  childhood  home,  long  forgotten  since  katie  dedicated  herself  to  the  war.  as  they  were  awaiting  the  potential  family,  the  air  had  been  tense,  but  it’s  almost  like  draco  has  sucked  any  semblance  of  the  warmth  katie  had  grown  up  as  soon  as  he  walked  in.  her  arms  wrap  around  herself  as  she  stands  in  front  of  him,  doe  eyes  wide  as  she  studies  him  as  he  takes  in  his  new  surroundings.  the  war  hasn’t  been  kind  to  anyone,  but  he  still  manages  to  look  like  he  has  some  sort  of  control  over  his  side.  it’s  something  katie  wishes  she  had,  instead  of  feeling  scared  and  worried  for  the  future.  katie’s  mouth  closes  at  his  cold  words,  and  she  supposed  she  should  have  expected  nothing  less  from  him.  “you  can  at  least  sit  down  with  us,”  she  tells  him,  shocked  at  the  even yet firm  tone  of  her  voice.  if  she’s  going  to  agree  to  this,  he  can  at  least  act  like  he  cares  about  her  and  not  just  what  she  can  offer  him.  katie  sits  closer  to  her  boyfriend,  seeking  comfort  from  him,  and  this  time,  he  gives  her  hand  a  quick  squeeze.  “we  don’t  need  your  money.”  a  lie,  but  she  could  create  a  list  of  things  she’d  rather  do  than  take  a  malfoy’s  money.  “i  ... ”  she  paused,  and  the  conversation  is  already  growing  more  difficult  than  she  thought  it  would  be.  “i  only  need  your  word.”  it  normally  wouldn’t  be  worth  much,  but  she  knows  that  draco  must  be  desperate  if  he’s  going  so  low  as  to  seek  help  from  order  members.  "your word that you won't ruin him." like your father did, is what she wants to add, but a small part of her is still afraid of him, if she's being honest with herself. her grip tightens on the man's hand, and she can tell without looking at him that this is as difficult for him as it is for her.

[ichorled]

he  doesn’t  bother  feigning  his  surprise  at  her  opposition,  though  she’s  never  been  meek  .  so,  he  lounges,  as  if  he’s  in  control  despite  not  being  on  his  ground,  focused  on  the  task  at  hand  .  he  acts  as  if  he’s  been  sent  to  negotiate  a  simple  exchange  of  funds  or  intelligence,  not  to  barter  for  the  fate  of  a  child  .  a  son  .  he’d  heard  as  much  through  his  sources,  but  it’s  a  relief  to  be  confirmed  .  obtain  a  son,  an  heir,  and  he’ll  have  been  successful  in  dissuading  the  foul  attention  of  the  dark  lord  himself  for  a  time  .  he  keeps  quiet  on  that  front,  though  .  refuses  to  reveal  his  desperation  .  his  need  for  them,  for  her,  to  shake  his  hand  and  make  a  deal  .  draco  tilts  his  head,  skeptical,  a  predator’s  attention  levelled  on  his  old  classmate  .  other  than  the  fact  that  the  man  beside  her  is  a  match  in  appearance,  he's  unimportant  .  his  silence  tells  draco  that  he’s  not  the  one  calling  making  this  decision  .  she  is  .        “         and  what’s  my  word  worth  to  you,  love  ?          ”          he  could  give  them  more  money  than  they  could  ever  dream  of,  and  she  wants  his  word  ?  he  will  never  understand  a  gryffindor’s  pride  .          “          would  you  have  me  swear  it  ?  and  even  if  i  did  swear  it,  would  you  believe  me  ?  i  wouldn’t  .          ”          

[bijameswilson]

Joel Kinnaman as Takeshi Kovacsin Altered Carbon | The Wrong Man

[misericors]

It was a strange feeling to be back in the Forest of Dean, isolated, quiet, unknown, as it was. Safe. Yet he also felt lingering a kind of haunting, as if something of the seventeen year old he had been still remained. Harry had thought he'd known despair, hopelessness, then. How foolish he had been, how little he'd foreseen. This meeting, for one. Harry once would have thought he would die before it would ever come about. He pressed the cool metal of the snitch in his hand to his lips, more a habit now, to reveal the writing in Dumbledore's slanted hand. I open at the close. Harry didn't know why he still read it, over and over. It was just another task he'd failed at, another part of the quest he had failed to understand. He dropped it back to his side, hand tightening around it, closing his eyes, and using the snitch for its newer purpose instead. Malfoy, he thought, now. The word would engrave itself on the spell-connected snitch in Malfoy's possession, its flesh memory ensuring no one else's touch would ever see it. Then, the snitch would guide Malfoy here, to where Harry was, a clever charm Harry had harvested from Ron's now old and defective Deluminator. There was always the possibilty that one day Malfoy wouldn't show up, especially now, after the masquerade, the hostages. Harry had imagined it, Malfoy caught, tortured, dead. His old enemy's sneering eyes blank and vacant, closed forever. What would it feel like, he wondered, to have Draco Malfoy's death on his conscience? Would it keep him up at night, as so many others had? He didn't know the answer, and the sound of an Apparition cut through his thoughts anyway. Harry's mouth moved to curve around an instinctual, half-resentful, Malfoy, before switching it out just before to something approaching civility. "Draco. Glad to see you're still alive." There was a hint of wry humour to it; after all, Draco wouldn’t be much use to him dead. But - Harry was grateful. He owed Draco - everything. @ichorled

[ichorled]

it’s  no  surprise  that  the  snitch  flutters  to  life,  just  mere  sleeps  after  the  explosive  hostage  escape  at  the  manor  .  a  glint  of  light  flitters  in  the  corner  of  his  lifeless  office,  incessant  .  he  hasn’t  spent  much  time  outside  since  his  righteous  failure  for  the  opposing  cause  .  and  so  he  considers,  for  a  moment,  ignoring  the  call  .  considers  that  he’s  done  enough  at  this  time,  and  for  a  long  time  coming  .  the  light  tremor  still  plaguing  his  hands,  the  lasting  poison  of  cruciatus  curse  still  lingering  under  his  skin,  is  cost  paid  enough  as  his  fist  opens,  and  closes,  in  controlled  consideration  .  

 moments  later,  he  apparates,  a  figure  cloaked  black  smoke  revealed  to  the  quiet  forest  of  glean  .  it’s  the  closest  one  might  find  to  neutral  ground  on  the  continent,  though  the  opposing  parties  maintain  their  cordial,  dubious  distance  .  their  oath  remains  intact,  but  it  means  nothing  in  the  long  run  .  no  need  for  niceties,  no  need  to  pretend  this  is  something  other  than  practical  business  .         “        is  it  ?         ”          he  mulls,  gaze  levelled  on  the  other,  a  hint  of  tired  amusement  .  across  him  stands  the  face  of  the  rebellion,  the  cause  of  so  much  consternation  on  his  side,  and  he  does  not  reach  for  his  armaments  .  neither  of  them  do  .  he  might  laugh,  if  time  wasn't  so  sparse  .          “          don't  tell  me  that  i've  been  summoned  for  concern  of  my  welfare,  potter  .         ”           he  sneers,  studying  his  foe  .       “        how  very  noble  indeed  .        ”

[crimsonsworn]

he's  just  narrowly  escaped  the  blinding  flash  of  a  curse  when  his  eyes  land  on  the  familiar  head  of  blonde  hair  he'd  been  forcefully  separated  at  the  beginning  of  all  the  evening's theatrics.  it  takes  all  but  two  strides  for  him  to  reach  her,  fingers  closing  around  her  elbow  as  he  tugs  her  into  an  abandoned  alcove.  "you  should  get  out  of  here."  he  murmurs,  gaze  flickering  between  his  betrothed  and  the  ensuing  chaos.  but  where  ?  it's  clear  that  any  hope  for  escape  has  been  eliminated,  along  with  cyrus's  own  desire  to  fight.  "i  can  help  you  get  someplace  safe."  there's  tenderness  in  his  tone,  masked  by  the  deep  furrow  of  his  brow.  though  he's  fully  aware  that  vesta  can  take  care  of  herself,  it  would  be  impossible  for  him  to  step  away  from  her  now.  instinct  takes  over  and  he  has  no  choice  but  to  follow  it,  fingers  tightening  their  grip on her. "don't be stubborn about this." ( @ichorled )

[ichorled]

she  isn’t  accustomed  to  being  caught  in  the  crossfire  .  more than comfortable  in  her  cushioned  state  of  privileged  seclusion,  the  blonde  had  anticipated  a  fun  night  of  collecting  compliments  and  delicious  gossip,  not  dodging  curses  and  dousing  flames  from  the  hem  of  her  finest dress  .  the  thought  of  escape  is  obscured  in  the  panic  and  disorder,  and  she’s  about  to  lose  herself  to  it  all,  unable  to  come  to  her  senses  fast  enough  to  remove  herself  from  the  changed  situation  .  but  a  strong  grip  snaps  her  out  of  it,  pulling  her  out  of  her  panic-stricken  trance just in time, and  into  a  small  alcove  hidden  from  the  rabble . a  mix  of  relief  and  reflexive  exasperation  colour  her  features,  embarrassed  to  have  been  caught  standing  there, doing nothing  at  all  .          “        i can take  care  of  myself  .        ”            she  fibs,  hissing  as  she rips  her  arm  back  from  her  betrothed  .  she’s  not  capable  of  admitting  defeat,  nor  of  her  need  for  him in this moment  .  though,  past  her bruised pride,  she’s  relieved  to  see  him  .  to  have  him  save  her  .         “          as  i’ve  been  doing  all  night  .        ”          she  adds,  hurt  that  he  left  her  side  at  all  .  that  in  the  brief  moments  of  their  separation,  the  perfect  night  erupted  into  flames  around  them  .  that  he  left,  and  it  all  fell  apart  . that him being here is enough to pull her back together .

[firstlvght]

katie  doesn’t  know  how  the  person  they're expecting heard  about  her  decision,  and  she  almost  calls  it  off,  looking  at  her  boyfriend  again  and  again.  maybe  he’ll  say  something  about  it,  give  her  the  comfort  that  she  needs,  but  instead,  he  sits  next  to  her  on  the  couch,  giving  her  too  much  space, and it feels like she's alone.  her  lips  press  together,  and  she’s  trying  desperately  to  hold  it  together.  they  seemed  trustworthy  enough,  and  it’s  offered  her  some  peace  in  the  unknown.  but  either  way,  she  knows  the  meeting  she’s  about  to  have  is  the  hardest  thing  she’s  ever  had  to  do  and  will  ever  do  in  her  life.  her  leg  starts  bouncing  up  and  down,  the  only  sound  in  the  room  being  the  clock  ticking  on  the  wall.  she  jumps  at  the  sound  of  an  official  knock  on  the  door,  and  she’s  up  before  the  other  had  a  chance  to  stand  up.  she  barely  registers  the  walk  over,  it  simultaneously  feeling  like  the  quickest  and  longest  walk  of  her  life.  katie  opens  the  door,  trying  her  best  to  put  on  a  brave  face  to  meet  the  other  on  the  other  side  of  the  door.  she  gasps,  seeing  the  platinum  blond  hair,  and  suddenly  she’s  back  in  school,  groggy  and  confused  after  a  curse.  she  slams  the  door  instinctively,  the wood  rattling  with  the  force  of  it,  hand  on  the  knob  as  she  has  to  settle  her  breathing.  draco.  katie  looks  over,  and  her  boyfriend  is  starting  to  rise  from  the  sofa,  but  she  only  shakes  her  head.  with  a  centering  breath,  katie  realizes  that  this  isn’t  for  her,  and  it’s  with  that  realization  she  feels  strong  enough  to  open  the  door  again.  “draco,”  she  says,  her  voice  soft  as  she  opens  it  wide  enough  for  him  to  walk  through.  “come  in.”  /  @ichorled

[ichorled]

pure  desperation  brings  draco  to  a  collapsed  doorsill  outside  of  london  .  his  gait  is  uneven,  tense  as  he,  cloaked  under  dusk,  anticipates  an  acknowledgement  from  the  other  side  .  he’s  informed  no  one  of  his  position,  of  his  reasoning  for  being  out  tonight  .  as  far  as  astoria’s  concerned,  it’s  far  more  probable  for  him  to  be  drinking  his  load  in  the  finest  dark  liquor  and  indulging  himself  in  the  prettiest  thing  at  the  pub  .  he’d  prefer  to  let  their  imaginations  run  rampant      —      for  his  companions  to  consider  all  of  the  other  possibilities  before  landing  on  this  one:  a  desperate  attempt  at  procuring  an  heir  .  he’s  unmoved  as  the  door  opens,  and  unsurprised,  but  irritated,  as  it  slams  in  his  face  .  but  he  gives  her  time  .  a  second,  a  minute,  an  hour      —        he  can  bide  his  time  for  this  .  for  this,  for  an  heir,  he  has  to  .  he  has  no  other  choice  . he  forgets  he’s  holding  his  breath  until  the  door  opens  again  .  until  he  steps  over  the  threshold,  and  exhales  .  but  his  genuine  relief  is  disguised  behind  an  arrogant,  knowing  smirk,  condescending  gaze  rifling  through  sentimental  belongings  collecting  dust,  before  darkening  and  landing  on  her  stomach,  all  but  acknowledging  the  other  fair-featured  man  hovering  at  hand  .        “        i  have  no  interesting  in  misspending  time  .         ”        draco  engages,  foregoing  greetings,  drawing  his  attention  back  to  her  face  .  a bit older, more  tired,  more  reserved  than  the  one  he  remembered  from  school,  but  more  or  less  the  same  .  he  supposes  he  might  have  contributed  to  that,  but  he’s  not  here  to  seek  forgiveness  .  nor  does  he  feel  like  he  needs  it,  having  all  the  upper-hand  .          “          i  can  offer  compensation —        ”         he  starts  .  a  life  changing  sum  for  someone  isn’t  even  a  dent  in  his  coffers,  after  all  .    

[ichorled]

it  hasn’t  been  her  place  to  do  so  in  a  long  time,  but  she  finds  herself brushing through the warmth of the familiar wards,  sifting  and  sorting  through  his  room  and  its belongings  as  if  they're  still  half  hers  .  it’s  muscle  fear  and  purpose  that  brings  her  here tonight,  deep  in  the  familiar,  tense  moments  before  a  battle  .  and  perhaps  she’s  crossing  several  firm  lines  by  doing  this,  but  she  promises  herself, upon breaking and entering,  that  she’ll  be  in  and  out,  and  that  he’ll  never  suspect  a  thing  .  he’s  never  seemed to question or mind  the  fact  that  the  antidotes,  quick-fixes  and  remedies  stored  in  his  satchel  have  never  run  dry  .  but  potions  do  not  refill  themselves,  and  old habits  urge  her  to  keep  caring  for  him,  despite  hating  to  .  despite  roiling  at  the  task  he’s  determined  to  set  out  to  do  .  despite  the  desperate  and  selfish  urge  to  beg  him  to  be  safe  .  to  not  die  .  but  she  can’t  do  that  .  so,  she  does  what  she  considers  to  be  the  next  best  thing :  invade  his  personal space  and  things  . ( @boggart )