Are You Sure That's A Real Spell?




Hermione Granger
5th year Gryffindor
Proud Muggle Born
"We could have been killed -or worse, expelled."

noelgallaghers: Not even sure why she’d told him, she hadn’t a clue what she was doing any more. The girl standing in the empty library was a stranger to herself, lost within herself. She didn’t wait for his answer, for she’d completely convinced herself that it would be disappointing; he wouldn’t give her what she needed, what she wanted; she was sure his next words would be another stab in the heart, another rejection and she placed one last kiss to his lips, her lips lingering near his, her reluctance to pull away forging in her mind before she forced herself to. Unnervingly calm, her mind made up, she stepped back, instilling distance between the pair once again. Her wand was fumbled and found before, with shaky hands and not waiting for him to change her mind, she whispered the words she believed would bring her absolution. “Obli-“ With shrewd attention to her every movement, Draco watched her fumble for her wand. His own was already pressed into his palm. Granger, though recently practiced, was hardly the sort to duel regularly, and Draco had such skills drilled into him by masters as soon as a practice wand could be placed in his hand. He was curious, however, about what she meant to do. So, when he heard the initial syllable spill from her lips, his heart plummeted and red hot rage took its place. With a purposeful circular movement of his Hawthorne, ending with his wand pointed at her, he shouted, “EXPELLIARMUS!” The disarming spell left his wand in white hot sparks. Her vinewood flew out of her grip and into his own.  In the moment when she’d begun to utter her spell, based on the shaky way she’d held her wand, Draco was still unclear as to which one of them she meant to Obliviate. This ambiguity only served to fuel his fury toward her. “How dare you!” he fumed, striding toward her, sending a locking charm at the doors and aMuffliato around the room. With security ensured, he hurled both Hawthorne and Vine to the floor in a loud clatter. “You don’t get to decide something like that all on your own, Granger!” Draco’s hand shot out, grabbing hold of her Gryffindor tie, and hauled her against him.  “I am not so easily forgotten,” he hissed at her. “You are not so easily forgotten,” his nose only millimeters from hers, the silver in his eyes glinted with displeasure. “This is not so easily forgotten…”  And as he spoke his last words, Draco’s mouth lowered to claim hers in a punishingly violent kiss. His hand at her neck relaxed, however, as his lips began to more gently stroke against hers. The feel of her returned to his arms slowly dispelled the flare of anger, and left him with only this unrelenting need.  With untutored hands, he renewed his earlier efforts to unclasp her robe. A driving desire to touch her overwhelmed his mind’s clamoring call for censure.  “Granger…” he gasped against her lips, his hands moving to map her body, pulling her shirt up and brushing his fingers against her bare midriff, the feel of her warm skin urging him to explore further.  “We’ll make it enough to last through the hell that awaits us. Enough to comfort us when we must make the rest of the world believe in the despise we have for one another.” His mouth and teeth moved to rake against the length of her throat, leaving a wet trail until he latched onto the exposed pulse point at her neck, beneath the tie he’d long loosened. “We’ll learn what this is like together. Because, if nothing else, you and I need this…” He rocked his lower half against her, making her understand just exactly what he meant. His grey gaze met hers with intensity borne of passion. “And if we decide forgetting is the answer to relieving this mutual madness,” he added in a fervent whisper, “then we cast the Obliviate together.” Crash! The sound of the doors slamming closed sent a jolt through her and Hermione jumped ever so slightly, internally and, no doubt, externally, relieved he’d enough wit and finesse about him to put a stop to what she was about to do. She should have gone through with it; she was sure she wouldn’t mind being the only one who remembered their stolen kisses in dark hallways, wouldn’t mind keeping up the façade of hatred that she had to convey towards him, wouldn’t mind being the single person holding onto something in a different situation she was sure would be something special. Special. The word bounced around her mind for a good few seconds; as he pulled her against him, as his lips began to move against her shellshocked ones, as he whispered his missive, his promise to her. His lips were sending her nerves shooting through the roof and Hermione stared as he kissed along her neck, goosebumps rising along her flesh at the foreign sensation. No-one had ever touched her like this, kissed her like this, made her felt like this. It was all new and so completely frightening but she was excited, a jolted bubbly excitement fluttering in her lower abdomen, to find out what it was exactly. Hermione sighed, looked up at the shelves surrounding the pair, her teeth biting down onto a lip as he worked his magic, frozen in place. His show of emotion ignited a slight fear in her and she was worried what would happen if she tried it again. “I don’t want to forget,” she told him, saddened by the thought. “I know that selfish of me to say, especially after what I just tried to do but I don’t want to forget.”

noelgallaghers:

Not even sure why she’d told him, she hadn’t a clue what she was doing any more. The girl standing in the empty library was a stranger to herself, lost within herself. She didn’t wait for his answer, for she’d completely convinced herself that it would be disappointing; he wouldn’t give her what she needed, what she wanted; she was sure his next words would be another stab in the heart, another rejection and she placed one last kiss to his lips, her lips lingering near his, her reluctance to pull away forging in her mind before she forced herself to. Unnervingly calm, her mind made up, she stepped back, instilling distance between the pair once again.

Her wand was fumbled and found before, with shaky hands and not waiting for him to change her mind, she whispered the words she believed would bring her absolution.

“Obli-“

With shrewd attention to her every movement, Draco watched her fumble for her wand. His own was already pressed into his palm. Granger, though recently practiced, was hardly the sort to duel regularly, and Draco had such skills drilled into him by masters as soon as a practice wand could be placed in his hand.

He was curious, however, about what she meant to do. So, when he heard the initial syllable spill from her lips, his heart plummeted and red hot rage took its place. With a purposeful circular movement of his Hawthorne, ending with his wand pointed at her, he shouted,

“EXPELLIARMUS!”

The disarming spell left his wand in white hot sparks. Her vinewood flew out of her grip and into his own. 

In the moment when she’d begun to utter her spell, based on the shaky way she’d held her wand, Draco was still unclear as to which one of them she meant to Obliviate. This ambiguity only served to fuel his fury toward her.

“How dare you!” he fumed, striding toward her, sending a locking charm at the doors and aMuffliato around the room. With security ensured, he hurled both Hawthorne and Vine to the floor in a loud clatter.

“You don’t get to decide something like that all on your own, Granger!”

Draco’s hand shot out, grabbing hold of her Gryffindor tie, and hauled her against him. 

“I am not so easily forgotten,” he hissed at her. “You are not so easily forgotten,” his nose only millimeters from hers, the silver in his eyes glinted with displeasure.

“This is not so easily forgotten…” 

And as he spoke his last words, Draco’s mouth lowered to claim hers in a punishingly violent kiss. His hand at her neck relaxed, however, as his lips began to more gently stroke against hers. The feel of her returned to his arms slowly dispelled the flare of anger, and left him with only this unrelenting need. 

With untutored hands, he renewed his earlier efforts to unclasp her robe. A driving desire to touch her overwhelmed his mind’s clamoring call for censure. 

“Granger…” he gasped against her lips, his hands moving to map her body, pulling her shirt up and brushing his fingers against her bare midriff, the feel of her warm skin urging him to explore further. 

“We’ll make it enough to last through the hell that awaits us. Enough to comfort us when we must make the rest of the world believe in the despise we have for one another.”

His mouth and teeth moved to rake against the length of her throat, leaving a wet trail until he latched onto the exposed pulse point at her neck, beneath the tie he’d long loosened.

“We’ll learn what this is like together. Because, if nothing else, you and I need this…”

He rocked his lower half against her, making her understand just exactly what he meant. His grey gaze met hers with intensity borne of passion.

“And if we decide forgetting is the answer to relieving this mutual madness,” he added in a fervent whisper, “then we cast the Obliviate together.”

Crash! The sound of the doors slamming closed sent a jolt through her and Hermione jumped ever so slightly, internally and, no doubt, externally, relieved he’d enough wit and finesse about him to put a stop to what she was about to do. She should have gone through with it; she was sure she wouldn’t mind being the only one who remembered their stolen kisses in dark hallways, wouldn’t mind keeping up the façade of hatred that she had to convey towards him, wouldn’t mind being the single person holding onto something in a different situation she was sure would be something special.

Special. The word bounced around her mind for a good few seconds; as he pulled her against him, as his lips began to move against her shellshocked ones, as he whispered his missive, his promise to her. His lips were sending her nerves shooting through the roof and Hermione stared as he kissed along her neck, goosebumps rising along her flesh at the foreign sensation. No-one had ever touched her like this, kissed her like this, made her felt like this. It was all new and so completely frightening but she was excited, a jolted bubbly excitement fluttering in her lower abdomen, to find out what it was exactly. Hermione sighed, looked up at the shelves surrounding the pair, her teeth biting down onto a lip as he worked his magic, frozen in place. His show of emotion ignited a slight fear in her and she was worried what would happen if she tried it again.

“I don’t want to forget,” she told him, saddened by the thought. “I know that selfish of me to say, especially after what I just tried to do but I don’t want to forget.”

(Source: stymesturbating)



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