Chapter Five: Firewhisky And Tampons

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buying books & reading books..two different hobbies.

“I haven’t got any options! I’ve got to do it! He’ll kill me! He’ll kill my whole family!”  ( Harry potter and the Half-blood Prince) Today is Draco’s Birthday! so…… Happy birthday Draco! 

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

Plot Bunnies, Plot Chickens, Etc.

As a lot of people aren’t familiar with plot creatures, I thought I’d shed some light on the members of the mental menagerie…

The Plot Bunny - Story ideas that come bounding in and start multiplying.

The Plot Chicken - They squawk, flap around, and shit everywhere, but when you actually need to do something with them, they scatter.

The Plot Sloth - Takes its sweet goddamned time turning into something useful.

The Plot Mule - When you mash two plots together and get something cool, but you can’t get a sequel out of it to save your life.

The Plot Cat - Lazy little bastards who take up your headspace, scare away all the other plot bunnies, but won’t actually do anything except lay there.

The Plottweiler - Barks loudly and viciously so you can’t ignore it, distracts you from everything else you want to write, but leaves you too paralyzed with fear to actually put words down.

The Plot Squirrel - Cute, distracting, full of nuts, and just TRY to keep up with that train of thought.

The Plot Bedbug - Shows up during the night, chews on you so you can’t sleep, and disappears in the daylight.

The Plot Tick - Burrows in, bleeds you dry, and leaves you with the creepy-crawlies. Mostly preys on horror writers.

The Plotroach - Totally unappealing, but so tenacious they’ll survive anything until you finally give up and write them.

What Plot Creatures have you encountered?

Loki is so done 

i love joining discord servers and then never saying anything ever