(no subject)
Author: Irisri
Title: No One Remembers Quite Like I Do
Rating: G
Summary: No one remembers quite like I do. Because they don’t care, Draco. They don’t care.
Pairing: Draco/Hermione
Prompt: My Choice - Remember
Completed: 13/50 (lions_serpents)
Words: 273
Disclaim: Hp isn’t mine.
No one remembers quite like I do. The way your hair caresses your forehead and neck in almost a lover’s touch, or how you prefer history to potions, or how you would seem calm, collected, and relaxed even though inside you were as tense as a spring held down and you were nervous as hell.
No one remembers the way you would lift your head up to the sun on a spring day just after it rained and you would breathe in deep just to smell the scent of water, dirt, and plants all mixed together.
Or the way that you twirl your father’s signet ring around your middle finger when you were deep in thought, or the way that you touch the small scar on your wrist, that you got when you experimenting cutting yourself, when you’re remembering something or someone or someplace.
Or the way you spat words at me that no person should ever hear. Yet I didn’t flinch, but spat hurtful words back at you.
Or the way that you kissed me that first time. In front of my friends and family like they didn’t exist, or they weren’t watching. A kiss filled with passion, anger, hate, and the hate that fueled that kiss had faded away with it.
Or how I kissed you back just as fiercely, gripping your hair and pulling you closer until I felt my knuckles pop from the grip I had on you.
No one remembers quite like I do, because they don’t care. They don’t care if you’re dead or alive, happy or upset, healthy or ill. But I do, Draco. I do.
Title: No One Remembers Quite Like I Do
Rating: G
Summary: No one remembers quite like I do. Because they don’t care, Draco. They don’t care.
Pairing: Draco/Hermione
Prompt: My Choice - Remember
Completed: 13/50 (lions_serpents)
Words: 273
Disclaim: Hp isn’t mine.
No one remembers quite like I do. The way your hair caresses your forehead and neck in almost a lover’s touch, or how you prefer history to potions, or how you would seem calm, collected, and relaxed even though inside you were as tense as a spring held down and you were nervous as hell.
No one remembers the way you would lift your head up to the sun on a spring day just after it rained and you would breathe in deep just to smell the scent of water, dirt, and plants all mixed together.
Or the way that you twirl your father’s signet ring around your middle finger when you were deep in thought, or the way that you touch the small scar on your wrist, that you got when you experimenting cutting yourself, when you’re remembering something or someone or someplace.
Or the way you spat words at me that no person should ever hear. Yet I didn’t flinch, but spat hurtful words back at you.
Or the way that you kissed me that first time. In front of my friends and family like they didn’t exist, or they weren’t watching. A kiss filled with passion, anger, hate, and the hate that fueled that kiss had faded away with it.
Or how I kissed you back just as fiercely, gripping your hair and pulling you closer until I felt my knuckles pop from the grip I had on you.
No one remembers quite like I do, because they don’t care. They don’t care if you’re dead or alive, happy or upset, healthy or ill. But I do, Draco. I do.