all_maroon



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  1. Rec *

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    Acceptance. That's all Scorpius needed to finally receive the comfort he desperately longed for during the ups and downs of his parents' relationship. one-shot.

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    11 Jan 2022

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    good god. didn't pull any quotes. feeling a little heartbroken. !!!

  2. Rec *

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    Hermione makes a lot of lists. And a list of names just happens to be one of them.

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    10 Jan 2022

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    Bookmarker's Notes

    to begin.

    But there was a part of Draco, mind you — a very small part, that felt a little flushed after their arguments, as if he needed something more from her than narrowed eyes and wagging fingers in his chest. He tried to ignore it the best he could by being harsher, crueller, putting her down till the spark in her eyes died in his hands. That was an absolute mistake — because soon enough, he found she just stopped talking to him entirely.

    i really love this.

    And when Draco had finally crossed the boundary of acquaintanceship once again with her (as in, she acknowledged him again in the office), there started being little lists of 5 reasons why Malfoy is probably staring at me (the number one being she might have syrup on her face; that was definitely not it)

    oh.

    It was set, then — he would keep her forever if he had the chance.

    this is pure fluff i love it

    The sticky note was left on her desk, slightly torn from how hard he was gripping the piece of orange paper. She found it the next day and tutted him about how if he was going to continue reading her lists like he had done for the past three years, he better continue keeping them back in the appropriate places; she didn't have the energy to pick up after two people now.

  3. Rec 33

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    Draco struggles to elucidate his feelings. Hermione has suspicions.

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    10 Jan 2022

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    “Granger”–he gripped her thighs–“I am this close to defiling you in a library right now. Do you really think Padma would want that?”

    also.

    “Draco, don’t be glib. People would–well, it would be a shock to the school. I mean, no one knows–”

    At this, he scoffed, and the muscles in her thigh tensed under his hands. “Granger, every one knows. Merlin, Pansy won’t stop badgering me about it. Hogwarts is only so big.”

    not to be outdone by:

    It had been true since the beginning, the first time he kissed her on the astronomy tower, when he was sure that group of 5th year boys saw. Or, when he hauled her out of the Valentine’s Dance and pressed her against the stone hallways, one hand cushioned between her updo and the hard wall. He was kissing her, tracing the seam of her lips, when he had the strange sensation of being watched. He had opened his eyes–one eye, actually–only to meet the shocked, and dismayed, gaze of Daphne Greengrass, whom he suspected harbored a simmering crush on him. She stared at them, mouth parted in confusion, before turning around and rejoining the party.

    Afterwards, he could have found Daphne, convinced her to stay quiet, but what would be the point? He wasn’t the one who cared if people found out. He would, actually, prefer if others knew. Perhaps then he wouldn’t have to worry about the way that Thomas looked at Granger or how Longbottom always seemed to drift in her orbit.

    “Granger, do you really think that no one in this entire school has figured it out? We spend most nights–”

    “Studying–”

    “The pretense of studying. I wouldn’t be surprised in Madam Pince knew–”

    wait and do not forget about:

    “Well,” she said. “I suppose it’s late, and I should be going.”

    “Please, don’t.” His voice was very quiet and very soft.

    “Draco, I–”

    “Just stay”–he slid his hand against the nape of her neck–“for a little while longer. I apologize for my earlier comment.”

    and, lastly.

    “You’ll postpone a vacation to Belize for a dance?”

  4. Rec 73

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    When he sinks into you, his eyes close, mouth parting. You touch his face, stroke his cheek. “Kiss me,” you tell him, and he stops mid-thrust and wraps his arms around your neck, lips finding yours. It makes you want to cry, so you close your eyes, thread your fingers through his hair.

    Afterwards, you stare at his ceiling, eyes tracing the thin cracks spidering into the center. “Do you ever feel like we’re just play-pretending at intimacy?”

    He doesn’t answer for a long while.

    “No,” he finally says. “That’s not what it feels like for me, play-pretend.”

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    10 Oct 2021

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    Bookmarker's Notes

    read this in the afternoon while eating a butter tart. i cried, obviously.

    but. here we go.

    And then he looks at you, and you smile at him, and you realize what you feel is comfortable.

    and. if that's not enough.

    “Do you ever feel like we’re just play-pretending at intimacy?”

    He doesn’t answer for a long while.

    “No,” he finally says. “That’s not what it feels like for me, play-pretend.”

    good god. i really loved this.

    and you swear you’re going to get up and get dressed, that you had this moment with him but it has to end. But instead, you linger, and the world tumbles into darkness. When you wake, you see his eyes first, intent and serious, and then his smile before he kisses you.

    then, that ending.

    Imagine tomorrow you leave, that your life begins, that you leave this all behind. and. But imagine you don’t. Imagine you hear him out. Imagine what your response would be, if you had the chance.

  5. Rec *

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    It hasn't been an easy year, and Hermione Granger is having a hard time mustering a holiday mood. When she throws a Stragglers' Christmas Eve, she doesn't expect her work partner Draco Malfoy to be her only party guest.

    And he's brooding at her again.

    She never should have brought him to that blood drive.

    A Dramione holiday tale about the first snow, facing feelings, and finding hope at the end of a hard year, featuring gorgeous art by Avendell, a cottage in Wiltshire, and an unfairly beautiful forest green cashmere jumper.

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    27 Sep 2021

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    Bookmarker's Notes

    “Don’t look at me like that,” she said, swatting at him.

    “Like what?” he asked, all while having the audacity to look at her like that.

    “Like that.” She pointed her finger right into his face and then booped his nose. “Like you’re in lo—”

    He was looking at her even more like that than ever, his eyes all starry and searching. “What if—”

    “No.” She pushed the heel of her hand into his chest, gently. He stepped back and she carefully lowered herself off the desk and began the slow process of strapping her shoes back on without falling over. She looked at him sadly over her shoulder. “Not like this.”

    this is a holiday story almost based on “blood bank” by Bon Iver. I worry it was written for me and I just wasn’t told. I love it. I will read it again once it’s snows.

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