BOOKWORM.

books and cleverness; there are more important things

[mugglebrn]

#MUGGLEBRN. an indie, low activity & mutuals only portrayal of hermione granger of the wizarding world by kalila (she/her, 30, gmt) anti jkr. i'm officially stealing hermione from her

| info | bio | verses | meme prompts | wishlist |

[mugglebrn]

observe

His side of the bed had been cold when she'd woken. No hint that he'd been in it besides the lingering scent of him on the sheets. Still half caught in a dream-state, Hermione had reached out for him, expecting to find the comforting warmth of his bare skin and instead grasping at air. She'd been quick to wake after that, sitting up with a start that took her any time he wasn't where he was meant to be.

Then her brain had caught up, returning to the land of the conscious and with it the weight of the day before had settled back on her heart and she knew immediately why he wasn't in bed. In fact, if she were to put galleons on it, she would say he'd only waited long enough for her to fall asleep before slipping out. She doubts he slept a wink.

It doesn't take her long at all to find him. After slipping on some clothes she'd padded about the nearly empty house (quiet not only because of the early hour but also because they only currently shared it with three other Order members) and finding no trace of him, she'd known where to look next. They'd found the lake on their third day here, and though Hermione knows the kind thing to do was to share it's existence with the other occupants of the safehouse, she'd decided to be selfish for a few days and give them somewhere private to come. A sanctuary all of their own. Besides, it's half a mile outside the wards and technically nobody should be there.

He's sitting on the dock when she breaks through the tree line, looking out across the water like it holds all the answers to his problems. Or maybe it isn't that at all. Maybe it just holds a reprieve from them. A certain peace.

The morning light illuminates him in warm hues, a halo glowing around him, catching in his fair hair. Water droplets cling to him, rolling in rivulets down his from his saturated hair. Under normal circumstances she'd stand there and admire the way they dip and race between the lines of his back, their paths determined by the cut of lean muscle. Right now all she can concentrate on is the weight that bears down on his shoulders.

Draco is still, in a way she's never learned how to be, and she wonders if he's organising his mind. Chests, he'd told her once. He sorts his every thought and emotion into chests. Tiny and wooden. Huge and ornate. Some left open for quick access. Others padlocked and charmed and cursed so thoroughly she's not even sure he knows how to open them anymore. He packs up all that he holds precious and all that he fears and he separates them into these boxes he'd created to put away. For safekeeping or to protect his heart. She wonders what kind of box he'll put the entirety of yesterday into.

He doesn't react as she steps foot onto the dock but she knows he hears the soft padding of her feet on the creaky wood, that he catches the scent of her shampoo on the breeze. Hermione lowers herself behind him, hand reaching out tentatively to touch his back, finding it cold from his swim. He makes no move to acknowledge her, but the tension in his shoulders loosens ever so slightly.

"It's not your fault," she whispers, shuffling in to hold him from behind, her cheek flat against his cooled skin.

There'd been a battle yesterday, a skirmish in Falmouth with the intent to free some of the Order sympathises that were being held hostage in their own homes. Draco had come with them, in his polyjuiced disguise - platinum hair turned mousy brown and features rearranged into that of a stranger that had been in front of her in the grocery store, close enough for her steal a few hairs unnoticed. Lucius Malfoy hadn't recognised his son when he'd apparated into the fight, but then, that was the entire point. He'd immediately fallen into form, throwing curses at his disguised progeny, relentless in his pursuit and leaving Draco with no choice but to respond in kind. Only he'd frozen. Hermione had seen it. The way he'd gotten the upperhand only to falter, unable to land a finishing blow on his dad, despite the grave danger he'd been in. A man who was ever the opportunistic snake and who'd taken advantage of the hesitation, casting a curse that had Hermione's heartbeat stutter to stop, too far away to do anything besides watch.

But she hadn't been the only one with an eye on the interaction, and Draco was being pushed out of the way before the spell could hit, the curse claiming a different victim in Remus who was dead before he hit the ground.

Draco shivers under her hug and she knows he's thinking about it too, that it hasn't yet made it into one of those neatly packed chests.

Hermione presses a kiss between his shoulder blades, tightening her hold around his waist as if she could protect him from it. She closes her eyes and relives the anguish on Tonks' face when they returned with his body; the pain of losing the person you love so raw and unrelenting in her cries as she'd hunched over him that it had rattled Hermione to her soul. For one horribly selfish moment, she thinks she's relieved it was Remus and not him. She doesn't think she could survive that. She doesn't have a Teddy to pull herself together for.

"Nobody expected you to do it," Lucius was a great many horrible things, but he's still the man who raised him and whose love and approval he spent his entire childhood seeking. There isn't a person in the entire Order who didn't understand. Not any whose opinion matters anyway.

[mugglebrn]

[signetrings]

a slap in this face or a sucker-punch to the gut would hurt less. honestly, draco wishes hermione had opted for a physical beating than whatever she was currently whipping at him now. the glassy shine in her deep brown eyes, the pooling of tears that she was trying her best to withhold, the quiver of her lips ... yes, a physical beating or rancid hex would hurt less.

draco swallows hard, his teeth gritting and jaw clenching. of course he knew how hermione felt about him — he practically relished in it, reliving the blundering moment hermione granger had inadvertently admitted how strong and relentless her feelings had grown for him. she had been so flustered; cheeks flushed, doe eyes frenzied, and her bush of curls absolutely electric. it was like he could physically see the gears turning in her mind as she tried to logic her way out of her own feelings. it was a ravishing sight to witness, and he only regrets the amusement he pulled from it now. if only he had come to terms with his own feelings sooner instead of replaying the moment hermione granger had come to understand her own.

there's a desperate, lousy attempt to strengthen his walls and pull towards the safety of occlumency as hermione reads him to filth, but it doesn't work. hermione's words sting. each sentence feels like a strategically aimed blade wielding precise lacerations into his skin, only it's not blood that leaks from him. the corners of his eyes are wet. his vision blurs.

"i—" draco was a coward. there's not much he can say to deny it. it's what had gotten him in trouble with the dark lord, with the war, with choosing sides, with every decision he's ever made. everything. it's a new kind of pain to know he isn't the only one acutely aware of it. draco pulls his lips together into a tight line. his hands are shaking. "you don't know me, granger."

[mugglebrn]

In the aftermath of her verbal onslaught they just watch each other, taking it all in, standing there in the hurt they cause each other. He'd said (while he was shattering her entire perception of the connection they had) that the mark was just there to show them what could be. An indicator that some element of fate out there believed that they were meant for each other and that they could be so good together. He'd said it of course with a sneer, and though she doesn't put much stock in destiny herself, his conviction that it was a load of hogwash had hurt.

Now she's more certain than ever that it's just nonsense. Or maybe the constellation on her cheek is nothing but some insane coincidence. Maybe it's no soul mark at all.

Hermione has no idea. What she does know? Is that they only bring out the worst in each other.

Her bottom lip trembles and tears cut hotly down her cheeks and she's so angry. At him. At herself. At her fucking tear ducts that never seem to dry. She's so angry she doesn't even have any space in her to feel vindication at the tears she sees swimming in his own eyes. "Isn't that the way you like it?" A thousand miles away from everybody else while the world ticks on around him. Too afraid to let anybody in.

Hermione swiped the back of her hand across her cheeks, trying to scrub the tears away. "I'm not doing this anymore, Malfoy. I'm done." The mark, the late night conversations over potion brewing, the stolent touches and furtive glances. "I'm not going to keep trying to know somebody who thinks I'm not worth the effort."

[signetrings]

jealousy bubbles in the pit of his stomach and spreads like an uncontrollable wildfire, scorching every part of him until he's numb. draco can barely believe his own eyes and yet, he knows the minute he closes them it's all he'll be able to see. it'll haunt him tonight, he's sure of it. mixed in with his nightmares of the past, this sight will keep him up at night if only because it's one he isn't accustomed to. he's managed the others — the death, torture, and unexplainable cruelties. he's tucked them away in a chest and thrown them into an abyss. he's controlled them. but this? draco can barely shove the sight of hermione passionately gripping macmillan's face and snogging the living daylights out of him into a big enough chest. it's too big — too much for him to handle.

draco's furious and angry and confused and hurt. so much so, that he barely registers that he'd pulled hermione away to confront her.

"it doesn't," draco manages to bite out, his voice rough and strained. the ache in his chest is excessive and one he's not equipped to tackle. what the hell was wrong with him? draco shakes his head and inhales sharply, tugging at the familiar cold that enveloped him whenever he occluded. with firewhiskey in his system, it was much harder to grasp the ability fully. he felt shaky and off balanced. there's an attempt to school his features, but draco still felt hot and too emotional to shut that irritating part of his brain off. "i don't give a fuck who you snog. you're welcome to snog the entire year, if you'd like. shall i line up every bloke for you? set up a parchment so you can rank who snogged you the best?"

[mugglebrn]

Hermione's heart races, and not in the way she's come to expect around him. This is anger. Pure incredulous fury. "How dare you?" she hisses it at him, low and venomous, wrenching her arm from his hold. There's a burning hot sensation behind her eyes and she knows there are tears coming. She wishes she was like his lot; able to shove away their every emotion and present the unaffected facade, but she can't. She's just not built like that. It feels like all she's done since the war is cry, and Merlin, she's so sick and tired of crying.

"I told you how I " Hermione cuts herself off with the snap of her teeth together because it's not entirely true. She hadn't told him how she feels of her own free will, not really. He'd weaseled it out of her, forcing her to confront something she wasn't ready for and then turning it around. "You know," there's no need to clarify what she's talking about. "And you laughed at me."

It doesn't even matter that the mark has no magical influence on her; Hermione wishes she could burn it off her face just to be free of this visible connection she has to him. In hopes that the emotional one would follow. "And now you're jealous?" Only an idiot would be fooled by his posturing. And she might be blind to so much when it came to him, but she's no fool. "You've had every opportunity to tell me how you feel, Malfoy. Every bloody chance to choose differently, and instead you've ridiculed me. Hiding behind this..." Hands wave in front of her as if it were some tangible thing. " front you put up. Playing this part you've been in for so long I think you might just believe it yourself. You know, I shouldn't have expected any differently. I should have known. You always have been a coward."

She'll regret the words later, when she replays the look in his eyes, half-way to drunk and expressive as they are (for the first time ever), but right now she says them with all the conviction and hurt she has in her.

[nifflerstolen]

"it's not really something i like to brag about," he responds, a small smile lighting up his face. for one, it wasn't exactly conducive to his reputation at school to reveal he liked the finer arts. for another, he was under no illusions that he was even any good at it. oh his mother had often gushed over his pieces, but she was his mother. she was supposed to support his many hobbies with a fake appreciation. it was just what mothers did.

the idea of showing someone had a nervous sensation squirming through his gut, but hadn't he just said that he'd donate some artwork to the next charity function? he couldn't be a hypocrite now and not let her see it. besides, he was curious about whether or not she'd like his art. "i paint landscape, mostly, but i do portraits sometimes too. maybe one day you'll let me paint you." he reaches out a hand to tuck a curl behind her ear, and gently smooths his thumb over her cheek. "how about after the event? you could come back to my place afterwards and i can show you my art then?" he holds his breath, not sure whether she'll agree or not. it would be the first time she's ever come back with him.

[mugglebrn]

Her cheek warms beneath his thumb and Hermione gives a little self-deprecating laugh, waving away the thought of painting her. "Oh, I don't know. I'd probably make a terrible model. You know me, I can't sit still for a second." And the thought honestly makes her a bit anxious. Not because she doubts his skill, but because it's nerve-wracking to think of how he sees her being captured on canvas. There's still some insecurity there, she thinks. Some hard conversations about their past they've not fully delved into, some things she'd probably best bring up soon.

Like if he still sees her as he did once. Frizzy-haired and buck-toothed.

Hermione swallows, shoving the thought away. Pushing it down as she was wont to do. And luckily he gives her something else to fixate on with his question (though she'll likely spiral on this later anyway). "Are you trying to bribe me to yours for a nightcap with the promise of art?" she teases, but her smile is soft because she can see the trepidation on his face. "I'd like that."

[mugglebrn]

"you really don't give a shit how this affects me, huh."

Hermione's never considered herself a cruel person. Sure, she has a bit of a nasty streak when provoked, and her mum had to have more than one conversation with her about her righteous indignation and vengeful sense of justice as a child. But she's never thought herself cruel.

Until she saw the look on Malfoy's face as she pulled back from her heated snog with Ernie Macmillan.

She's not even sure why she did it. To prove a point maybe. To get back at him for this whole soulmate nonsense. To make it known that just because fate and destiny were at work here it didn't mean that they were inevitable. He'd said it himself hadn't he? When he'd laughed in her face over the complicated emotions (she refuses to call them feelings) she'd been brewing for him lately. He'd told her the mark didn't influence anything, that they could choose not to pursue this. That her... complicated emotions were all her own.

He'd teased her about them even, and so no, despite the anger and the hurt in his face as he pulls her aside to admonish her, Hermione doesn't feel bad about kissing Ernie. The only thing she feels bad about is that she'd thought of him the entire time.

"I thought the mark didn't change anything? Why would who I choose to snog affect you?" They're fellow students. Co-workers on a potion assignment. Nothing more. The collection of freckles on her cheek doesn't mean a thing, and it certainly does not beholden her to clearing her love life choices with him.

[elithien]

Dramione reunion commission. Thank you Emily! <3

[darklinaforever]

Wait what ?! A combination of two of my favorite ships ? Bellfort and Dramione ?! Bellfort as Dramione fancast ?! It's one of the most perfect things who exist !

[nifflerstolen]

❛❛ deep pockets, huh? ❜❜ he GRINS at @mugglebrn, then nods. ❛❛ sure, i can do that. it's for a good cause after all. ❜❜ astoria had helped him realise that purity culture was a SHITTY trandition, and so draco tried to put back into the community as much as he COULD. call it his way of ATONING for the way he was brought up.

his eyes light up at the mention of art. ❛❛ no kidding? ❜❜ draco was usually tight-lipped about his many PASSIONS, but hermione wasn't just ANYONE. ❛❛ i actually paint myself, surprising i know. maybe the next time there's an auction i'll donate some pieces. ❜❜

[mugglebrn]

"It is." A cause that she's very passionate about. More so than she had been even before the war. And maybe there's something there in wanting to make the world a better place for people like Remus Lupin who never got to experience what a society without prejudice against werewolves could feel like.

"You've not told me that before," she says, visibly brightening at this new snippet of information. It's exciting, really. The newness of this relationship and the way she's relearning so many preconceived ideas she had about him. "What do you paint? Will you show me sometime?"

[nifflerstolen]

draco bites back a wince at her words - he thoroughly deserved the punch to the face, though, if he was being brutally honest with himself and he couldn't blame hermione for reacting the way she had. he's sure he'd react much the same way if someone brought up how awful he'd been at school. thankfully he'd grown up and all he wanted to do was to be a good father to scorp. "can't say i didn't deserve that one," he admits, "and yeah, you're probably right, i don't think punching people would have got you very far." he does wince this time at his poor attempt at a joke. "ah, can we forget i just said that? sorry, i'm not, ah, used to talking to many people besides scorp. having daily conversations with a six year old tends to melt your brain."

it doesn't escape his attention that hermione is decimating her cuticles, a clear show of anxiety - astoria had had the same bad habit and all at once he feels like he should leave, it's clear he's making her uncomfortable and now he feels trapped because it's also clear to him that scorpius isn't ready to leave. he's thinking of a solution when hermione brings up astoria and it's like a punch to the gut, so much so he sucks in a breath. he can't tell if hermione means what she said, or if she's just being nice but hermione was never the type to wish something so horrible on a person, so he decides that she genuinely means it. that she's sorry he lost astoria. "thanks, that actually means a lot."

he nods when the topic moves to herself and ron and the abscence of their own children. he's not sure why but the idea makes him sad. hermione would have made a great mother. she had a tremendous amount of patience for one, if this conversation was anything to go by. "i'm sure it'll happen for you soon, you'd make great parents." their kids definitely wouldn't end up like him, that's for sure. not with ron and hermione as their parents raising them.

did you enjoy the story? the story? ah, she was talking about the faraway tree that she'd read to the children. "ah," he gives her a sheepish smile, running his fingers through his hair. "i wasn't listening, sorry. i was too busy reading but i did read the faraway tree when i was younger, moon baby was my favourite character."

[mugglebrn]

"A pity," she offers a half smile, and maybe it's a little peace offering between them. An acknowledgement of his attempt at joking. She won't forget he said it, but she won't hold it against him in the way he seems to fear. "Turns out I'm rather good at it." The punching. Although she had suffered a fractured knuckle for it (she blames his pointy nose for being so bloody hard).

Why is it she's standing here having a civil conversation with him? Despite their storied history? She could make up an excuse, exit it and save her cuticles the damage. But then she brings up his late wife and the devastation is so clear in his face and she can't bring herself to. Curse her perpetual bleeding heart her inability to not look at somebody who was hurting and feel the hollow ache of empathy.

Your heart is your greatest strength, Hermione. Her dad's voice rings somewhere in the back of her mind and she shifts on her feet. She wonders if he feels the same now, after what she had done to protect him. Her heart had made that choice and she thinks he might hate her a little bit for it.

It's easy to brush past the comment about Ron. Used to being in awkward conversations where he's brought up, though not usually because the other party is anywhere of their divorce. "Maybe."

Books were a safer topic, and one she'd much rather stick to. "I forget sometimes, that Enid Blyton wasn't a muggle." A witch in secret and therefore her children's novels breached the divide and made the great leap into the homes of pureblood children. It's funny to read it now that she knows the world where all the inspiration came from. "Your son the same when I asked him, you know." Maybe a love for Moon Baby was hereditary.

"What were you reading?"

[thechosengryffindor]

Lay back. You're not getting up until the color comes back to your face. from @mugglebrn

"It can't be that bad." Harry attempted, a bit of sarcasm to lighten the mood, "Aunt Petunia hits harder than that git did." His green eyes roam the room, trying not to look at her so he won't feel the guilt of ending up injured in her presence again, his best friend deserves better... but Ron would just reach out to Hermione again, and there's no one else he trusts to be discreet.

"Can't even pop into Diagon Alley for a pint anymore." Harry said dryly as his gaze turns towards Hermione- it was a pointless exercise to avoid her gaze- he wanted to make sure she was okay, he always wanted to make sure his two best friends were okay- even if he had to deal with the guilt of putting them in ridiculous situations.

"I really shouldn't stay. I've put you out enough as it and-" Harry winced, trying to sit up. "Merlin maybe I underestimated how hard that curse hit me." he muttered in annoyance and sighed, "I'm..." He forced himself to lay back, his ribs screaming in protest, "I'm sorry."

[mugglebrn]

There's a tightening in her jaw that seemed ever present whenever Harry brought up the Dursley's. Horrid people as they were. Hermione thinks on her least charitable days that she should like to come face to face with that detestable woman, just so that she could show her exactly what magic could be used for.

"Do not apologise." She's cross. She's been cross for quite a while if she's honest. Mad at the world and all the injustices of it. Furious that Harry cannot be offered a moments peace, not even now, years after Voldemort's defeat.

"Do you hear me, Harry James Potter?" she presses, moving to sit beside him and pushing up his shirt with a clinical interest. "You don't apologise. Not for this. Not to me. You're family." And the sentiment didn't exist only because she no longer had any in her parents. He'd been family to her long before that. Since he first came looking for her in that loo maybe. Willing to take on a troll fifteen times his size. "You could never put me out." Hermione had become a bit of a dab hand at healing spells during the war, and she surveys him now in the interest of figuring out what best to do.

[mugglebrn]

[ strand ] sender reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind receiver's ear

When the rain had started falling she'd just about cried happy tears.

Their current safehouse is down south an unassuming house within the rolling fields of Kent. The change from the perpetual wind and drizzle of the Highlands had been welcome at first, and then summer hit them true and all her thanks had dried up along with the clouds. It was that horrible sort of heat; thick and sticky. The kind that licked at your skin without a moments reprieve. Cooling charms were a temporary fix to take the edge off, but Hermione had learned there are certain things in the world, certain natural orders, that could not be governed by the artifice of magic.

Add to that their dangerously low levels of food (Gamp's Law had never been cursed at such a frequency), and the energy in the safehouse was tense, to say the least. Heat and hunger did that to a person. And Malfoy had been in a particularly foul mood. One which seemed to only intensify when he'd laid eyes on her shorts, no doubt his prim pureblood sensitivities affronted by her flimsy muggle clothing. And one which refused to let up even as he insisted on accompanying her on the walk into town the nearby town for a few loaves of bread and a dozen eggs. Not even her concession of the use of a confundus charm in order to sneak a couple of ice lollies into their shopping cart (they really couldn't afford the two quid) had cheered him and it had been reaching a fever pitch of uncomfortable huffing and puffing between them on that long walk beneath the relentless blanket of heat before the universe had finally smiled down upon Hermione and hit them with the first few drops of cool water.

And then, because the universe was never truly so kind, the heavens had opened up. The skies darkened as rain battered down upon them, soaking Hermione's clothing through in mere seconds and obscuring the town in front of them from sight. "Come on!" She grabs his arm and tugs, pulling him along behind her as she makes for the shelter of the bus stop that marks the very edge of town, taking up refuge beneath it. The rain falls to a deafening degree upon the roof and she cast her eyes up and around, wondering how long it would trap them there.

At least she's not hot anymore.

Hermione looks back to Draco to ask him if he thinks it'll let up soon (as if he knew any better than she would), only to find him closer than expected (perhaps because she still unwittingly grips his arm, her heartbeat seeming to fall to match the pulse she feels at his wrist as it slows after their short sprint). It'll annoy her later, how quickly she forgets the arse he'd been all day. How easily she's drawn into the magnetic pull of his crystalline eyes as he looks at her, brows furrowed and thoughtful, as if she's the most perplexing thing he'd ever come across.

Her hair, once frizzy with humidity is now heavy with water; dripping from her curls and causing her to blink against the weight of the droplets on her lashes. Clearing her eyes of it. Because he really does paint quite the pretty picture like this, and she would loathe to miss a second of it. His cheeks are flush from the heat, pink deepening his pale skin, the smattering of freckle across his nose darkened from the days spent with ceaseless sun. His hair flops messily on his forehead, wet and sticking, a rivulet of rainwater dripping between his eyes and off the very tip of his pointy nose.

There's a cacophany of rainfall all around them, but it fades to a dull hum, until all she can hear is the matched cadence of their heavy breathing and her own pulse. Hermione's hand slips down his wrist, light and exploratory, fingers grazing over his palm, the tips of them brushing against his knuckles. A gust of wind blows and it's what she would blame for the way she sways in closer to him, their chests brushing against each other, the scent of oud and mint making her dizzy with it's familiarity. Amortentia had never smelled half as sweet.

Malfoy's eyes wander from hers up to her forehead, his free hand following his gaze there where he catches a soggy curl between his thumb and index finger, tugging gently on it so that it straightens before springing back into a coil as he releases the tension. She takes the opportunity to study him back; mapping out the sharp cut of his cheekbones and the curvy pout of his lips, watching as his tongue darts out to lick at a droplet of rain. Hermione's fingers brush against his again, knuckle to knuckle, feeling the twitch of his index finger. He tucks the curl he'd been toying with behind her ear with all the reverence of a man at worship and she shivers as he brushes agains the shell of her ear, swaying forward again, her eyes still on his mouth

Quite suddenly the rain stops, as quickly as it had begun, and the absense of it is more deafening than the downpour had ever been. Hermione jerks back from him, their fingers wrenched away from each other, his hand falling back to his side.

"We should go. The shop closes at half-five."

[mythshire]

✦ ⋆ 𖤓 ⋆ ✦ 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐕𝐄 ··· a collection of injuries tended in silence, pain worn like armour, the intimacy of being seen at your worst. genre: hurt and comfort, angst, romance, drama.

• You're bleeding through your shirt. Don't tell me you're fine. • How long have you been walking around like this? • I'm not going to hurt you. I just need to see how bad it is. • You should have told me the moment it happened. • Hold still. I mean it. Hold still. • This is going to sting. Bite down on something if you need to. • You've been hiding this for days, haven't you. • Who did this to you? I need you to tell me who did this. • Stop being brave for five minutes and let me help you. • I've seen worse. I've also seen men die from worse, so let me look at it. • I found the bandages in the trash. You want to explain that? • Don't you dare apologize for bleeding on me. • Your hands are cold. That's not a good sign. • I'm not angry. I'm terrified. There's a difference. • Come into the light. Let me see your face. • You should have stitches. I know you won't go. So sit down and let me do what I can. • You're white as a sheet and still trying to stand up straight. • I could hear you in the night. I didn't say anything. I'm saying something now. • Don't look at it if it makes it worse. Just look at me. • It's not weak to let someone see you hurt. • You came to me. Of all the places you could have gone, you came here.  • Lay back. You're not getting up until the color comes back to your face. • I'm not going to ask what happened. Not yet. First let me fix what I can. • You've been holding your left side since you walked in. Think I didn't notice? • This is going to leave a mark. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. • I've patched up a lot of people in my time. None of them scared me like you do right now. • You could have died out there. You could have died and I would have been the last person to know. • Sleep. I'll be right here when you wake up. I'm not going anywhere. • You're allowed to make a sound. Nobody's watching. • I need you to stay awake for me. Just a little longer. Talk to me. • You're lucky the cut wasn't deeper.  • Stop apologizing for needing help. Stop it right now. • I've seen what it looks like when someone's used to this. That's what scares me most about you. • Tell me your name. Tell me what day it is. Stay with me. • You're going to be alright. I promise you.  • You went back out there after this? With this? • Nobody takes care of you, do they? That ends tonight. • I've been gentle with you. I need you to be honest with me in return. • You're safe now. You're here, you're safe, and I've got you. Just breathe.

[leneemusing]

EMOTIONAL/PLOT DRIVEN INTIMACY PROMPTS

[ 1 ] for our muses to be in the midst of foreplay/building up to sex but one stops the other to make some kind of confession.

[ 2 ] for sender to wake up receiver after having a nightmare and initiate sex as comfort.

[ 3 ] for receiver to wake up sender after having a nightmare and initiate sex as comfort.

[ 4 ] our muses have just made up after a fight and begin to get intimate, trying to rebuild trust.

[ 5 ] one muse has just gone through a break up and goes to the other for comfort which leads to sex.

[ 6 ] sender had a bad date and receiver shows up at their door to cheer them up. they get a little tipsy and start making out.

[ 7 ] receiver had a bad date and sender shows up at their door to cheer them up. they get a little tipsy and start making out.

[ 8 ] our muses reunite after having been apart for an extended length of time which leads to sex, clothes everywhere, barely making it to the bed or not at all.

[ 9 ] sender is upset, receiver tries to confront them but rather than talk about it, sender initiates sex.

[ 10 ] receiver is upset, sender tries to confront them but rather than talk about it, receiver initiates sex.

[ 11 ] our muses try to break up only to end up having emotional/heated sex.

[ 12 ] sender confesses to having a crush on receiver which leads to receiver initiating sex.

[ 13 ] receiver confesses to having a crush on sender which leads to sender initiating sex.

[ 14 ] our muses lose power during a storm and have sex to keep warm or out of boredom.

[ 15 ] our muses are not together but sender confesses to receiver how lonely they are which spurs on receiver to initiate sex for comfort.

[ 16 ] our muses are not together but receiver confesses to sender how lonely they are which spurs on sender to initiate sex for comfort.

[ 17 ] sender pausing in the middle of sex to say "you're so beautiful/handsome"

[ 18 ] sender pausing in the middle of sex to say "i love you"

[ 19 ] sender pausing in the middle of sex to say "i missed you"

[ 20 ] for our muses to hold each other after sex, naked and warm and unwilling to detangle just yet.

a few sentences:

❝ i just want to feel something good. ❞

❝ i missed you so much. i just need you close to me right now. ❞

❝ let me show you how much i love you. ❞

❝ let me show you just how much i need you. ❞

❝ it doesn't have to mean anything, i'd just like some company tonight... ❞

❝ can i stay over tonight? i don't want to sleep alone right now. ❞

❝ i like the way you make me feel. i want to feel that way right now. i need to be with you. ❞

❝ no better way of getting over someone than getting under someone else, hey? ❞

❝ hey look you're not 'using' me if i'm the one offering. don't you think i get lonely too? ❞

❝ i miss the feeling of you inside me. ❞

❝ i miss being inside you. i miss feeling like we're the only two people in existence. ❞

❝ god all i did was think about you earlier and i got...excited. ❞

❝ i don't want to miss you anymore. please just kiss me. ❞

❝ will you just hold me for a little while? ❞

❝ this doesn't mean i'm not still mad at you— ❞

❝ i'm not sure if i forgive you yet, but i miss you. and i'm tired of missing you so... ❞

❝ i'm not sure how to ask this but—i've had a shit night. and you always used to make me feel good. ❞

❝ just come here. let me take care of you. ❞

❝ just relax. i'll do all the work. ❞

[spiltichor]

send  “OBSERVE”for a mini-drabble of how MY MUSE sees and/or thinks about YOUR MUSE while they do something completely ordinary. This can be them reading, cooking, sleeping, just ordinary moments the often get glossed over in threads and roleplays. Feel free to specify what your muse is doing if you want to!

make sure to specify the muse for multimuses!

[mugglebrn]

"what are you trying to prove?"

The healing salve is cool and thick on the tips of her fingers and she hopes it has even half the same soothing feeling for him. Two hours they'd spent running through the littany of spells and runic enchantments she'd researched in an attempt to free him of the dark mark. And though he'd never asked her to stop (even though he'd spent the entire time with his jaw locked so tight she feared he'd crack his teeth), Hermione was finding she doesn't like causing Malfoy pain as much as she thought she might and had called it when the last attempt had left the skin on his forearm raw and blistered.

Chocolate-hued eyes flick up from surveying her own shoddy work and she finds him watching her with the most peculiar look as if he's trying to riddle her out.

"I'm not trying to prove anything. I'm trying to help you." And she punctuates that statement with swiping the balm over his inflamed skin, giving little regard to the turn her stomach seems to instinctively make as her thumb smooths over where the snake protrudes from skull. "I understand you come from a world where everything is transactional, but maybe you should consider that not everybody is so selfishly minded." Her words are clipped and cutting, but her fingers are gentle.