Sometimes you want to punch somebody. Other times, you're the one getting hit.
After an unfortunate bar fight, Hermione Granger accidentally invites Draco Malfoy to live on her couch indefinitely, but at least she's got his wand. She's struggling to hang onto her sanity and pleasant disposition, despite those nasty thoughts that keep popping into her head, but he's already given up on his. Meanwhile, the rest of the wizarding world is investigating his mysterious disappearance, he's inventing his own whole new reality from the comfort of Hermione's bed (not that she wants him there), the gravity's broken in the kitchen, Harry and Ginny won't stop trying to get her back together with Ron, Ron's sleeping with Lavender, Hermione wants to lay him out, Astoria Greengrass is mourning her not-so-dead fiancé, and everyone's so buried in lies that they might as well just forget about the whole concept of truth.
"They're my plates, and I'll keep a set of three if I want a set of three plates!"
"Oh, sure! Like you could be happy with that! Your whole life is a set of three plates, and you never even knew it until I came in and needed the fourth one."
//
“Nonsense, Granger. I’ve always liked you. I like your ice-cold logic and your unkempt nails and your snotty sense of superiority over the rest of humanity. I like your anger and your control issues and your passion for revenge.”
//
"Even if you could gather up everything and everybody else in the whole world and bend them to your will, you'd still be trapped in that fleshy cage, and you can never be in complete control of it."
//
"Regret is just an excuse to wallow in self-pity without feeling selfish."
//
Anybody could just say that they would never cut off somebody's toe on a couch and use the bone and nail for Dark Magic, but in practice it was much harder to avoid.
//
"That's my favourite thing about you," he said, pressing flat palms into the table on either side of his bowl. "There are only so many good qualities a person can have, and they're all boring and common. I don't know anybody else whose flaws are as interesting as yours."
//
"A lot of people want to do a lot of things." Hermione was aware that realising those desires was so rare that adults learned to stop wanting impossible things.
//
Happy people don't go looking for danger, because they have something to lose.
//
Didn't they realise how boring and mundane the world would be without him? Didn't they see that without him, all a person would have to think about were rose bushes, lawn flamingos, slip resistance tests, and useless echoes of the past?
//
He was just a kitten in a free-to-a-good-home box by the side of the road, blinking new eyes at an unfamiliar world, waiting to be picked up by the first available hand. Her home was good, and her hands were empty.
//
"You don't like me, though."
"No, you're projecting," he said. "You're the one who doesn't like you."
"I'm the one who doesn't like you."
"No, that's me. How'd you get that so backwards?"
//
She could be angry with Malfoy for failing to keep his mouth shut, or she could be happy that he was thinking about her, but not both. Well, maybe she could do both if she tried extra hard.
//
When she got him back, she was going to slap him across the face and demand to know why she missed him so much, seeing as he was such a giant idiot.
Art:
(1) Reverse of the Diptych of Jean de Carondelet, Jan Gossaert, c. 1517
(2) La Corde Sensible (Heartstring), René Magritte, 1960
(3) The Temptation of St. Anthony (detail), Hieronymous Bosch, c. 1501
No matter how many Dramione stories I read, the shift from 'Granger' to 'Hermione' and from 'Malfoy' to 'Draco' does inexplicable things to my heart. every. fucking. time.
Far Be It From Me by riptey: Draco works in the dementia ward at St. Mungo's, and he loves his job, but he doesn't feel comfortable anywhere else. Recurring tremors in his hands make it hard for him to do things, and he's too embarrassed to let anyone see. So when his schoolboy crush, Hermione Granger, suddenly reappears in his life, all he can do is push her away. DMHG/EWE/for dramione remix (Donnie Darko)
How do you deal with the Pureblood aristocracy, Ministry corruption, Muggle culture invasions, and constant questions about your love life while juggling more than two friends and not being a total jerk? Don't ask Draco: he doesn't know.
I wanna smash your head.
I wanna lick your face.
Cut through my skin
and find the fault while I'm at it.
You sit in the corner,
I sit on the counter.
Music is loud as fuck;
we had agreed on that one thing.
It stops the thoughts from getting loud.
I like it fuzzy in my ears,
but not in the head.
Run my fingers through
the red tinted blonde hair
on your busted head.
Let's go to the doctor,dear.
God, I hate the doctor's.
They're the worst, of course.
Clownery. Clownery. Clownery.
I hate myself for loving you.
Let's break the plates,
they're mismatched
and make satisfying sounds
when thrown at walls.
Chipped paint, souveniers.
You kiss me near the sink.
Our clothes are soaked.
"What about all the money you have?"
Burn it, throw it in the ocean.
Drown the coins in the goddamned ocean.
I'm going back to being insane.
The war took it all from me.
All I'm left with is victory.
I don't know how to live with it.
I have anxities for breakfast
and bury them deep inside.
By noon, I have digested them
without proofs of their existence.
The paperwork continues on in a world
that probably should've died.
Who makes the rules anyway?
This is a rambling piece
but so is life.
You ask me to let you sleep in my bed.
I wake up with your arm around my stomach.
(I love you.)
I am gonna be late for work because of you.
You don't wanna go anyway, just quit.
(We drive in a rented car to the ocean and see a sunrise and you go to sleep afterwards.)
Yes, let's run away. And then what?
And then we go on living.
Please if someone has recs of literally any piece of media that resembles the first half of that fic, drop them here and I would pledge my allegiance to you.
and obviously, if you haven't read it, it's highly recommended.
