#whispyotter

[prxtectiive]

If you could say just one thing to your Muse, what would it be?

Munday Meme.

DON’T BE AN ASS TO YOUR FRIENDS WHEN YOU’RE MAD. THEY’RE ONLY TRYING TO HELP.

[tnott]

[ Partner || Closed ]

@whispyotter

It wasn’t the first time that Professor Sinistra had assigned a group project, nor was it the first time that she had assigned them specific partners. All the same, Theodora was not prepared to be paired with Hermione Granger – the stuck-up, know-it-all teacher’s pet, always soaking up all the sun, gaining points for breaking rules — even laws. She was insufferable.

At least this year the annoying bint was taking a reasonable number of classes. There had been something fishy going on in their Third Year; it was almost like she’d been given a time-turner. (Who knows? Maybe she had. McGonagall would surely do anything for the golden girl of Gryffindor.)

One single good thing could be said of Granger – unlike many of her housemates, she wasn’t a shirker. She’d surely pull her weight. And so they had arranged to meet in the library the next afternoon to start working.

Theo arrived early and staked out a table. Granger wasn’t there yet, so she used the time to locate some books that would help them. Carrying the pile over to their seats, she set it down, settled in, and began to browse while she waited for her partner to arrive.

[wrcnggirl]

whispyotter

”You actually expect this to work?”

[malfoytrash-blog]

YES HI HELLO WHAT IS YOUR QUESTION

I WAS WONDERING HOW YOU DONT CHOKE ON YOUR HAIR AT NIGHT. 

[malfoytrash-blog]

YOU REPLIED TWO MONTHS AGO?!

[malfoytrash-blog]

-progressively sits up straighter-

THAT'S YOU?

[malfoytrash-blog]

PSA

the plot Cat and I are doing currently is like Vegas times 10

[malfoytrash-blog]

+whispyotter | Malfoy & Granger | H u n t e d

{ I'm being hunted.... } 

Paranoia was pulsing through Draco Malfoy's veins as he continued down the sidewalk. As he continued on, his heart was beating fast in his chest. Every few seconds, his pointed face would turn suddenly and his footsteps would halt.

                                                          Drip. Drip. Drip..

                      It was only just the rain...

                                                   Only rain.

A shiver he refused to react to jolted down his spine and after a few seconds of flickering his eyes around his surroundings did he slowly begin to follow back. He thought he heard something....and he had every right to be paranoid as he so desperately wanted to whip out his wand to defend himself. His mouth felt dry and he was suffocating from the restricting feeling on his throat.

[Why was he doing this? Why, why, why...]

                                   I t  /  w a s /  h i s  /  o n l y /  c h  o i c e.

His pace slowed down to a halt, and he spun on the rain-soaked concrete to face a clump of buildings before him. A heavy breath and goosebumps trailing pale skin underneath the dark cloak he wore, he allowed the light rain to travel down his hood, skydiving off the end, and for some to stain his features. His hair was still decently dry---he hadn't traveled long. This place they finally sent him to, his last hope, could have been a second home in another life.

A slightly shaky hand lifted up, hesitated, then pounded on the front of the door. Desperation, what a horrid feeling that poisoned him right then. Gritting his teeth harshly, he waited for someone to open that damn door so he could reach out, stop it from slamming in his face, and state why he was here. After all, his case was unique. Of course they'd have to listen! Weren't they...world savers or something?

Soon the door did open. After a few shots of retorts and actually forcing himself in, he found a wand pointed stiffly to the back of his neck as his hood dropped and his eyes widened. He told them in a almost a hiss that he wasn't here for trouble, he was already in enough. Heart pounding even more as they threw him so roughly in a chair, he was looking up at a three pairs of curious eyes, only two of which dared to be so close to him. Those were even hidden behind round spectacles. The ginger, Weaselbee, was actually the one who jabbed a wand to his throat and was pulled back by Dean Thomas under Harry's orders---though the Chosen Prat still loosely kept to his own wand, just lightly pointing it at him.

                                        "---What do you want, Malfoy?" he gritted out.

He paused, glaring at the bunch of them. The side of his face twitched as though his whole body was restraining itself from getting up with his hands in the air and leaving. Another part wanted to just scream profanity at them for treating him as such. Hands gripped his knees and he took in a drawled breath, "--Let's see...a cuppa tea...Weaselbee to leave the room because his face irks me...you to lower your wand...and oh, right, to go outside and not feel like someone's fucking stalking me, waiting for a good shot to kill me!"

[And there's a lot more to this story...but it's doubtful I'm going to let you in on it.]