The Umbrella Academy: 1x09 | 3x06

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neil gaiman really likes the “two immortals meeting each other throughout the centuries and developing a bregrudging-but-genuine-relationship” trope which is fine because i eat that shit up

Jude and Cardan

Legend has it my cousin is still trying to find this profile…

prompt: my idea of fun

“You never let loose, do you?” Granger drops onto the grass beside him, twisting her arm around his elbow. It’s such a Granger thing, physical touch. A shoulder squeeze upon arrival to class; a warm hug when approached from behind; the swift brush of her fingers in his damp hair in the misty weather.

“Let loose?” he repeats cynically. “Did you hear what that Gryffindor prat said to me?”

“You used to retaliate.” She leans against his arm, the bright scent of her shampoo wafting beneath his nose. “What happened to all those prank spells you used to know?”

“I used to be Draco Malfoy, but now I’m a Death Eater.”

“Former,” she reminds him. “And last I checked, you were still Draco Malfoy.”

“One of us could get away with school pranks. The other will face Azkaban at the slightest indiscretion.”

“Oh, I see.” She rises to her feet. “You’re afraid.”

Draco scoffs, a bolt of anger twisting his gut. “Easy for you to say.”

“True.” She searches the field, her gaze halting on something in the distance. “Was that him?”

He peeks over his shoulder, glimpsing the wanker who ruined Draco’s day. “Yeah.”

With only a spark of mischief in her eye as a warning, Granger points her wand in the boy’s direction and lets her magic run free. Seconds later, screams reach their ears. A pair of moth wings has sprouted from the boy’s shoulder blades and he’s skittering through the air, arms and legs flailing about in a panic.

Draco snorts. “Head Girl, huh?”

She shrugs. “I have an aversion to moths, didn’t you know?”

“Right, that Skeeter woman.” He remembers the jar in her hands on the train ride home in fourth year. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“What?” She sits down again, this time directly in front of him. “Put Skeeter in a jar?”

“Get back at him for me. I probably deserved it.”

“Probably,” she agrees. “But lucky for you, I find myself quite fond of our friendship.”

Draco’s irritation melts in the heat of her gaze. Fondness and friendship ring in his ears on repeat. He’s glad to fill the hole Potter and Weasley vacated this year. Friendship means everything to a girl without a family. But fondness makes his mind run wild, in directions Draco ‘Death Eater’ Malfoy’s thoughts never should go. The curve of her cheek, for instance, how soft it feels when she’s pressing her face against his arm. Or the surprisingly tight grip of her arms when she’s dragging him away from sulking to brew prohibited potions in the lavatories. Her idea of fun, and his too, if he’s honest with himself.

“What?” asks Granger, shooting him a curious look.

He’s staring.

Draco shrugs, only able to tell the truth: “You.”

A tinge of pink fills her cheeks. “What about me?”

“Just you. Everything about you.” He brushes his hand over dewy blades of grass, his heart jackrabbiting in his chest.

Granger’s mouth opens, shuts. For once, she’s at a loss for words.

“Don’t worry about it,” says Draco, hoping to avoid weirdness between them. “I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”

She nods, lying down on her back to watch the clouds floating above them. They sit quietly for a while, long enough to hear the boy’s screams overshadowed by laughter, and then silence as a professor approaches the ruckus and dismantles the chaos of Granger’s sneaky magic.

“You know, former Draco would have done exactly this,” says Granger a while later, “hidden behind his cowardice.”

“Former Draco wouldn’t have cherished your friendship.”

Granger sits up on her elbows, staring at him through long dark lashes. “Nor would he have confessed his feelings for a Mudblood.”

The word rankles him. He hates it more than anything. “Is that what you want to hear? That I have feelings for you.”

“Only if you mean it.”

They’re on the precipice of something. It’s one of those moments in his life where things are one way today, but tomorrow everything could be different. He might learn what Granger’s mouth tastes like, or find out if the skin beneath her blouse is as soft as the back of her hand. But Former Draco wasn’t just a coward, he was selfish, taking without asking because he assumed everything already belonged to him.

He chooses his words carefully. “My feelings for you run deep, Granger, but I won’t ask for something I don’t deserve.”

“And if it’s what I want?”

“Then tell me,” he says. “I’ll give you anything that’s in my power to give.”

“You?” she asks, on her knees now in front of him.

Draco’s gaze flicks down to her mouth hovering inches from his own. “Is that what you want?”

“Will you give it to me?” A glimmer of mischief illuminates her eyes again. Gods, he loves that look. It takes him to unexpected places. Makes him laugh, stokes his ambition, persuades him to relish life again. And in this moment, it ignites every inch of him with fire.

With Granger, life is always a learning experience. Draco’s favourite lesson so far is the taste of her mouth—like summer warmth on an early spring day, salt in the drenches of mourning, sweetness in the tangle of school sheets, bliss every day he gets to call the girl without a family his own.

xx

What is it about dirty boys that's so ridiculously sexy? *swoons*

“Those are rotten for you.”

Draco jumped, startled by Granger’s presence. He hadn’t heard her coming. How alarming. He needed to be switched on at all times.

A beat too late, he replied, “What do you reckon will kill me first? This,” he lifted the cigarette, “or the war?”

“They turn your teeth yellow.”

His grin bore no kindness. “Who am I trying to impress?”

He’d joined The Order three weeks ago, shared this house with her for eight days, and this was the first time she’d approached him to chat. He was in no mood.

She shouldered past him into the house. “Goodnight, Malfoy.”

-

Granger reached for his cigarette, incensed. “Put that out! They’ll see it.”

He stretched his hand beyond her reach. “We’re bait. Our job is to be seen.”

“Not so obviously.” She Accio’d the cigarette and extinguished it in a huff. “It’s like you want us to get killed.”

Why was she here? She was too crucial for this role. Too valuable to have Draco, the team pariah, as her back up. If he screwed up, she could die.

She didn’t, of course, because when the crack of Apparation shattered the silence, they fought fiercely side by side.

-

A stone skittered down the cliff face and Draco glanced up to find Granger approaching. She swung her legs over the ledge, sitting beside him.

“Can I have some of that?” Her knuckles were dirt-stained. Tears shiny on her cheeks.

He passed her the cigarette.

She took a generous drag, handed it back to him, then put her head between her hands and began to sob.

He didn’t know how to comfort her.

What was another casualty during war? But Granger internalized every death as if she’d committed it herself.

He offered her another drag.

She wound her arms around him instead, as if the offering had been an invitation to seek comfort from him, and buried her face in his chest.

He stiffened. Flicked the cigarette over the edge of the cliff. Then, gradually, placed his arm around her.

The sun slipped behind the endless woods and still they sat there.

-

Draco stubbed his cigarette beneath his shoe and lit another, pacing back and forth.

“I should be at the Forest of Dean tonight,” he said the moment Kingsley entered the room.

“You’re needed here,” replied Kingsley without give.

“Granger and I have been partners for weeks—”

“We’ve told you not to get comfortable—”

“That’s utter bollocks!”

“She’ll be fine,” interrupted Ginny. “She’s with Ron.”

Draco blew smoke in her face.

“Prick,” she spat, storming away.

-

“It’s not that deep,” insisted Granger. But her voice told him otherwise.

He sent her up to his room. Furiously nicking Blood-Replenishing potion and bandages from the emergency supply.

He cleaned the wound on her arm and wrapped it meticulously. Fuming when she flinched. He would strangle Kingsley with his bare hands. This was why they couldn’t be apart.

As Granger slept, Draco smoked through a pack, never taking his eyes off her. What if the spell had slashed an artery? What if it had been a different curse?

There was no freedom in war, but nobody would stand between him and this witch ever again.

-

He was sharing a dart with Susan Bones when Granger entered the yard.

Unaware they had company, Bones boldly suggested, “I’m down to fuck, if you are.”

Draco watched Granger’s eyes flick between them. Her mouth flattened, and she left wordlessly.

“I’ve got someone,” he said, watching her shadow retreat. He didn’t yet, but hopefully soon.

-

Granger said, “Will you brush your teeth?” as Draco discarded his cigarette.

He considered saying no, but decided it was in his best interest to listen.

In his very best interest, in fact, when she crawled onto his lap upon his return. Large brown eyes blinking up at him. “Do you want to kiss me?” she asked.

He dipped forward to show her exactly what he’d wanted for weeks, but she pressed her fingers over his lips. “Are you sleeping with her?”

He knew who she meant, but still asked, “Who?”

“Susan.”

“Never. Nobody.” He kissed her fingers.

She replaced them with her mouth.

-

“Where are you going?” he growled, as Granger rolled out of bed. It was still dark.

“I’m being summoned.” She searched blindly for her bra, her knickers.

He checked his wand, finding it unnervingly cold. They were separating them again.

He grabbed her wrist, and she stumbled into his arms. “Draco!”

He kissed her deeply, breathlessly. “Run away with me.”

“But—"

“We’ll still fight,” he added, lighting a smoke. “On our own terms. They’re corrupt, Hermione. We’ll wind up dead with them.”

She hesitated. They had discussed this many times. Going rogue. There was more to be done without pseudo-authorities policing their moves. Plus, they couldn’t be apart anymore without losing their minds.

“On one condition,” she declared, snatching the cigarette from his fingers and flicking it away. “You’ll quit smoking.”

He watched it burn out. Then considered the witch in his bed. Perhaps she didn’t know it yet, but he would do anything for her.

Draco and Hermione were gone before sunrise.

(861 words, photo and prompt on twitter)

Once you become a certain age, it is your responsibility to unlearn behaviors that hinder your growth as a person.

Harry’s Snapchat