Send This To 10 Other Bloggers That You Think Are Wonderful. Keep The Game Going, Make Someone Smile!

✿ send this to 10 other bloggers that you think are wonderful. keep the game going, make someone smile! ✿

aw, you won! you made me smile :) thank you so much, darling. you're the sweetest ♡

never seen anything as beautifully written as that one recent draco piece you wrote. stunned.

i got goosebumps reading this. thank you so, so much, sweet nonnie. i was reluctant to post that particular piece, so hearing how much you enjoyed it makes me so happy ♡

❤️ - How would you describe the purest form of love?

Kisses on hands that rush through your veins. Fingers that catch on the jut of wrist bones and don’t exactly let go. kisses that asphyxiate you, leave you breathless, dragging words from your lungs and smearing them across the sky. touches that tickle your sides, your clavicle, your neck, your lips. conversations that lull you to sleep at 3am. counting stars and naming constellations on a sticky summer night. finding faces in their freckles and sugar in their dimples. laughter that makes butterflies bloom in your abdomen.

ask me romantic questions 🌹

Draco dating a Hufflepuff in the same year as him

❝Loving her is like Russian Roulette. 

❝A game, a chance, a dangerous thing.❞

First of all, you have my heart. Your writing is divine. I could probably read your grocery shopping list, and still feel like I’m in this ethereal dimension. You are extremely talented. Second, have you ever read The Age of Innocence? (stupid question, you probably have) If so, would you ever write something inspired by it? I personally just reread the book, and I have found myself overcome with emotions. It would be splendid to see your take on it, if you’d like of course. Third, IJUSTLOVEU💕

wow, i am overwhelmed in the best possible way by this ask. i don’t think i’ve ever actually had someone’s heart before, so i am flattered you placed yours in my hands.

i know this may come as a shock, but i actually have not read the age of innocence. however, the other day while i was at the bookstore i picked it up and plan on reading it after i finish the novel i am currently reading. once i read the age of innocence i will try my best to fulfill your ask.

thank you again for your sweet words and patience. if there is anything specific you would like to see in this fic, feel free to send me another ask or message me personally :)

draco dating a hufflepuff girl in the same year as him.

*requested

Draco’s sixth year at Hogwarts comes in a succession of black and blue, the shape of a Mark, a branding, a death sentence, stitched into the capillaries of his arm.

The gossamer ribbon of his lungs slips through his rib cage and swirls around the notches of his esophagus till he’s choking on the silent screams.

Because loving her is a dangerous thing.

A tricky thing.

A deadly thing.

For she’s now a pawn in the Dark Lord’s game, all muddled blood, and impure veins.

He feels like Icarus falling for the sea, can taste the foam in his lungs, on his tongue, shards of salt lacerating the walls of his once beating heart.

And he cannot breathe, cannot swallow, cannot see, no, not as she’s standing behind him more ghost than girl, ankles buried beneath more truths than lies, tears staining the rim of her cathedral-glass eyes.

“Draco,” she whispers, and it sounds like a hymn, a chorus of angels screaming, crashing, burning, falling from heaven, falling for devils. 

He’s never heard something quite so tragic.

“I’m sorry,” he replies, almost laughs at the irony.

The Mark, the blood, the truth, the lies.

He wonders if this is what it feels like to die.

With a girl - the girl - by his side, eyes wide, lips swollen and tinged with a hint of Botticellian pink.

“I’m not leaving.”

“Please, he’ll kill you, he’ll kill us all.”

A strand of hair catches in her lashes as she shakes her head adamantly.

“Like you said, he’ll kill us all. At least I’ll be by your side when I die.”

She twines their fingers together and knots their knuckles in a manner that reminds Draco vaguely of a promise. 

He thinks he wants to hold her hand forever, wants to memorize each slope and curve and jut of her tender, porcelain bones.

Because loving her is like Russian Roulette.

A game, a chance, a dangerous thing.

She folds her arms behind his neck, brings her lips close, close, close till they’re closest.

“I’m not leaving,” she says, again.

Again, again and again.

And yellow never was so beautiful.