This Saved Me

A patronus, Harry tells Hermione, is acing a test and the warmth of a butterbeer between your hands. It is your friends holding you when you fall, and Ron’s sparkling eyes when you whisper hi. And there’s an otter, swimming, and Hermione is blushing.

A patronus, Harry tells Ron, is Ginny’s shaky smile lighting up the world at the end of second year. It is winning the Quidditch World Cup, unwrapping yet another knitted jumper, and your startled surprise at the sight of Hermione punching Draco in the face. And there’s a dog, chasing the otter, and Ron is laughing.

A patronus, Harry tells Luna, is the feeling of starlight on your skin and grass between your bare toes. It is snow melting through your fingers, the magic your mother used to make, something singing in your heart when you stare at the impossible. And there’s a hare, jumping, and Luna is shining.

A patronus, Harry tells Cho, is Marietta shouting the lyrics of her favourite song, dancing in the rain during a storm. It is the look on Cedric’s face when he saw you at the Yule Ball, his hand holding yours and never letting go. And there’s a swan, sliding, and Cho is crying.

A patronus, Harry tells Seamus, is Dean’s funny expression when he is about to burst into laughter and the sound of a explosion that turns out right. It is the fireworks, bright flowers blossoming in the night sky; and the fire burning in your lungs as you fly. And there’s a fox, running, and Seamus is smirking.

A patronus, Harry tells Ginny, is the world expanding underneath you and the wind playing with your hair. It is dancing and laughing until there are tears on your cheeks, Molly’s disapproving voice and Arthur’s amused eyes after one of the twins’ pranks. And there’s a horse, flying, and Ginny is grinning.

A patronus, Harry thinks, is that weird feeling that lives in his chest when the Room of Requirement glows silver, speaking of times when the world was golden.

fanon connor: flowing locks, perfect makeup, wears flawless nail polish and chokers, is grunge in a cool way canon connor: punches a wall in half, greasy hair, hasn’t slept or showered for days

“New year, new me,” I say, laughing to my friends. Suddenly, I throw my arms out, golden light erupting from my hands and face. I scream in agony as every single cell in my body is rewritten, atom by atom. Abruptly, the light show ends and I drop my arms, coughing out a golden trail of residual energy. I am completely made new. 

I am a Time Lord.

HUGE SHOUTOUT TO DARE BRITT FOR PUTTING PASTA IN HER WACOM PEN AND SAVING MY LIFE

(yes the picture above is done using a spagetti for a nib and it works)

tsukki’s hand thing

reblog if you agree

Void’s not in a good mood.