![]() What was I thinking?" As if the universe were exacting its revenge for that bit of snark, he immediately has to duck under the latest explosion, too close to his head for comfort. Have you never paid attention in Herbology, Potter?" Draco scoffs and then with a smirk adds, "Of course not. ![]() It was marked enough a characteristic that Snape had commented on it. Not, mind, that the explosions were precisely regulation, clearly not, but he does make an effort to abide by at least these rules if none others. "I think that's ' fireworks'," Harry corrects as he catches up to him, a wandless Protego protecting them both from the latest barrage, and potentially still legal on the pitch. "Damnable Whiz-bangs," Draco mutters, manoeuvring his broom with some skill around the latest burst. I hope you can forgive the delay? In its stead, however, I offer a picture of my stonking great alliums and the two fine young men in question: But! The plot is laid out and it *will* happen in time. ❤️ There's a Drarry in the works for you, unfortunately it comes a little latter in the story arc I'm writing (actually, technically earlier, bygones) and I was unable to make the jump between the two stories. Happy birthday, lostangelsoul3! □□□□□□□ I hope it's a good one. No, in conjunction with that magnificent backside, it screamed 'Professor Snape'.įor erexen, my sister by another mister, with oodles and oodles of squishy hugs. 'Serpentine Scrolls'? It didn't exactly scream 'Muggle', now did it? Really, she should have known from the name of his establishment, or at least suspected. That's when it dawns on her, he must be a wizard, and in that light - helped along by another glance at his arse in confirmation - comes the absolute certainty: not just any wizard at that. ![]() And when he fails to knock the little aeroplane free and the toy suddenly seems to just leap into his arms. Slowly the thought occurs that there's something familiar about that arse, and about the brolly he's wielding rather expertly in an attempt to dislodge the child's plaything stuck in the tree before his store. In fact at this rate, she may yet need to get Harry something along the lines of a new broom by way of thanks. Yes, it's a fine arse indeed, and she finds herself softening with regards to her assignment the longer she observes it. The arse on the proprietor of the bookstore next door, which in itself had practically been reason enough to justify an indefinite let on the flat, instantly improves the view by several orders of magnitude. On special assignment from the Ministry - and there's an exceedingly good chance she'll never forgive Harry or Kingsley for this (not that that will remove either of them from her Christmas lists, of course that would be churlish) - Hermione pauses as she enters her new home in Muggle London to admire the scenery.
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