you know what, i know too much about america. social media is so american-centric i could probably tell you more about there than my home country. i would like to forget some information about america please. i would like for someone to say “I am from Oregon” and for me to reply “haha is that some kind of herb?”. please erase america from my knowledge. thank you
The kiss is rushed and desperate, and Hermione barely has a moment to respond, to kiss him back, before Draco pulls away, forehead resting on hers.
“Let’s run away,” he whispers, voice cracked and anguished, his breath hot and damp against her cheek.
“What?” she asks breathlessly, mind reeling from the feel of his lips on hers.
He takes her face between his hands, pulling her head back until she’s staring into his silver eyes—those sparkling orbs of pain and torment.
“Let’s run away,” he pleads, eyes searching hers for—something, though she can’t imagine what. Can’t imagine, because he should know that what he is asking is impossible.
She shakes her head and his hands fall from her cheeks.
“You know we can’t,” she says, her voice wobbling as she fights the tears that blur her vision.
A watery smile twists his lips, the sentiment not reaching his eyes as they stare into hers, blinking back tears of doom. “I know,” he whispers, “I know.”
It’s final, and it’s jarring—hearing the hopelessness in his voice.
She reaches out and grips the front of his shirt.
He looks down at her hands, and then back again—a question in his gaze.
“We are going to fight them,” she says through her teeth, her tears finally falling from her eyes in watery rage. “We will fight every day until they abolish the marriage law.”
He places his hands over hers, over the fists of fabric she holds above his heart.
And he nods.
They seal their promise of revolution with a kiss that sears her lips and sends her heart drumming to the beat of war.
He pulls away, scanning her one last time, before he reaches up and pulls her veil over her face.
They part, walking to opposite ends of the hallway, to separate courtrooms.
But as they say their vows to the wrong person—they think only of each other.
Fanfic writers be like: goddamnit, this idea is so fucking sad it’s making me cry just thinking about it. Let me write it down so I can inflict it on others.
