Sometimes I remember Ron called The Dursleys house and Vernon answered to Ron screaming into the phone and I wonder why the movie directors hated us so much that they deprived us of seeing that masterpiece on screen.
I think Malfoy was created for the soul purpose of making me miserable.
[sarcastically] Yes. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy decided to have a baby, not to produce their pureblood heir and have a family but to put a force on this planet to make Harry James Potter as miserable as possible.
So you get it then! Perfect!
[incredulously] Really? THAT is what you took from that?
[sighs] I'll just add this incident to the list of reasons Ron and I think you're in love with him and move on with my life.
When there are ships I ship only under certain circumstances and then ships where I Do Not Care how it happened just that it happened and ones that I will literally read Every Single Fic for. I love all of them.
And then there’s the notps that I just avoid like a ~normal person~
“Hmm?“ he murmured against her neck, relishing the feeling of her hair on his skin. It was really silky and so uncontrollable he sometimes was afraid that it would strangle him.
“Can you move away for a second? I need to—“
He shook his head and buried it deeper in the crook of her neck, her whining be damned. She had such a delicious scent, vanilia and magnolias, so innocent and so untainted. It aroused him to no end.
“Draco!“ she barked again, but still no answer. He was sleep-deprived and so exhausted that even breathing seemed to be hard enough to be done all by himself. “You need to move if oyu don’t want to suffocate your own son! Does the name Scorpius ring any bells?“
And there it was.
He landed on his backside on the floor, in confusion, blinking up owlishly and the white-washed haired toddler that had very effectively kicked him in the ribs.
Fuck that sprong - he grumbled - mummy is mine!
The toddler - as if understanding what his dad was mumbling - flashed him a radiant smile.
My mum will hear about this! - he mouthed clumsily.
Ron and Hermione can enjoy complete silence together.
One or the other can make two cups of cinnamon tea, they can sit three feet away from each other on the couch, Ron reading the paper and Hermione reading this month’s bestseller from the Quibbler’s It List, and for an hour everything is at peace in the world.
They argue of course, oh, they argue, but not as much as one might think. Even Harry doesn’t know the extent to which they enjoy each other’s company, plain and simple. They’re perfectly happy to support each other’s passions and joys, taking pleasure in the other’s fulfillment. Everything in their lives is push and pull, and both get exactly what they need.
The stories about me. You want to know if they’re true, right? You know the funny thing about stories like that? Everyone always says they heard it from someone who was there. Then if you ask that person, they say they heard it from someone who was there, and so on. I bet if you went back 2,000 years, you’d find a bunch of centurions standing around talking about how Tertius lopped the heads off of some Carthaginian prisoners.
“Please folks. May I have your attention please? Attention please! I can deal with this trouble, friends, with a wave of my hand, this very hand! Please observe me if you will. I’m Professor Harold Hill, and I’m here to organize the River City Boys’ Band! Now think my friends, how can any pool table ever hope to compete with a gold trombone? Remember my friends, what a handful of trumpet players did to the famous, fabled walls of Jericho - oh billiard parlour walls come a-tumblin’ down! Oh a band will do it, my friends, oh yes, I say a boys’ band, do you hear me? I say, River City’s gotta have a boys’ band, and I mean she needs it today. Well Professor Harold Hill’s on hand, River City’s gonna have her boys’ band, as sure as the Lord made little green apples - and that band’s gonna be in uniform!”