serpentqueen13: The Lines We Walk (Draco/Morag, G)
Title: The Lines We Walk
Author: serpentqueen13
Rating: G!
Prompt Set: 100.3
Prompt: #16~Hands
Word Count: 429
Summary: Morag doesn't believe in Divination, but she's fascinated by one student's hands despite herself.
Warnings:...Palmistry dorkage? :)
Morag MacDougal was a logical person, in her own way, and often when others tried to correct her, they found that in some odd or small way--she was still, usually correct. Despite her eccentricities,Morag was a firm believer on the need for control in ones life, and so despite her mother's devout belief in ancient gods and fate, and her favourite uncle's belief in everything repeating,Morag rebelled against the idea of her life being planned out for her ahead of time, without her knowledge or approval.
But as much as she rebelled against the idea, she was a Ravenclaw, and she couldn't help the way she absorbed knowledge, sometimes without even trying. Like Divination--she had never taken the class, but she had been able to actually tutor Padma so she could understand when Parvati went off on a tangent. In a similar way, she had an odd habit of noticing omens whether for good or ill, and pointing them out in an odd way that coming from her low voice, would startle or sometimes frighten her friends, who would try to laugh it off.
Lachina would look at her daughter, shake her head and swear that Morag had the hands of a someone who could could see and feel more than mere plebeians, if she wouldn't hide it or run from it. Morag would scoff, dig her long nails into her palm in an effort to hide her fingers from Lachina MacDougal's knowing gaze.
Palmistry was rubbish, just like the rest of it. And even though she believed that, or thought she did, every time she caught sight of Draco Malfoy's hands, her mind would wander to palmistry, as if she could decode the Slytherin, peel away everything about the infuriating blond just through glimpses at his hands.
Long, pale fingers Her mind would traitorously murmur in Transfiguration as he took notes and she pretended to listen to a lecture she already understood. Oblong palm, water hand... And she would realise what she was doing and shake herself slightly, but before long she would return to her observations out of the corner of her eye.
She always felt vaguely creepy when she caught herself doing this, and vowed to stop, but it always seemed as if she never intentionally thought about it, but still she would catch herself studying something--single transverse palmar crease, intensity in purpose and drive, able to hide completely behind a facade--blush and hide her own hands, normal, uninteresting things that they were behind or under something and swear never to notice again.
Author: serpentqueen13
Rating: G!
Prompt Set: 100.3
Prompt: #16~Hands
Word Count: 429
Summary: Morag doesn't believe in Divination, but she's fascinated by one student's hands despite herself.
Warnings:...Palmistry dorkage? :)
Morag MacDougal was a logical person, in her own way, and often when others tried to correct her, they found that in some odd or small way--she was still, usually correct. Despite her eccentricities,Morag was a firm believer on the need for control in ones life, and so despite her mother's devout belief in ancient gods and fate, and her favourite uncle's belief in everything repeating,Morag rebelled against the idea of her life being planned out for her ahead of time, without her knowledge or approval.
But as much as she rebelled against the idea, she was a Ravenclaw, and she couldn't help the way she absorbed knowledge, sometimes without even trying. Like Divination--she had never taken the class, but she had been able to actually tutor Padma so she could understand when Parvati went off on a tangent. In a similar way, she had an odd habit of noticing omens whether for good or ill, and pointing them out in an odd way that coming from her low voice, would startle or sometimes frighten her friends, who would try to laugh it off.
Lachina would look at her daughter, shake her head and swear that Morag had the hands of a someone who could could see and feel more than mere plebeians, if she wouldn't hide it or run from it. Morag would scoff, dig her long nails into her palm in an effort to hide her fingers from Lachina MacDougal's knowing gaze.
Palmistry was rubbish, just like the rest of it. And even though she believed that, or thought she did, every time she caught sight of Draco Malfoy's hands, her mind would wander to palmistry, as if she could decode the Slytherin, peel away everything about the infuriating blond just through glimpses at his hands.
Long, pale fingers Her mind would traitorously murmur in Transfiguration as he took notes and she pretended to listen to a lecture she already understood. Oblong palm, water hand... And she would realise what she was doing and shake herself slightly, but before long she would return to her observations out of the corner of her eye.
She always felt vaguely creepy when she caught herself doing this, and vowed to stop, but it always seemed as if she never intentionally thought about it, but still she would catch herself studying something--single transverse palmar crease, intensity in purpose and drive, able to hide completely behind a facade--blush and hide her own hands, normal, uninteresting things that they were behind or under something and swear never to notice again.