#say sike rn | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

asttyx · 7 months

Text

It was Mahogany Wood and Fresh Apples (Oneshot)

"If the two of you were the last ones to live, would you dance the waltz with him?"

It was funny, you've never even considered it.

It was the last summer before your classes would start, you would be going back to your parent's house for a nice chat and dinner, possibly getting them something in exchange for the times you were absent. They missed you, you missed them more.

You look at Hermione with her bushy hair framing her face. You always thought that she looked like a bear, all fuzzy and soft. To you, at least.

"Who's him?" You laughed jokingly. She rolled her eyes as if your question was snarky.

"Oh please, be real for a minute. It's just a lovely quote to repeat." She sighs, leaning on the tree trunk that has seen you both grow. "I suggest you stop reading that book, it's doing things to your mind." You pointed at her and she laughed like you were the crazier one.

You rolled over, looking at her, for a minute you felt dizzy but maybe it was just the mahogany wood surrounding you. You don't like the particularly strong smell.

"Who was it again? I forgot?" You looked over her, hair spiked in all directions, she couldn't help but reach over to you as she fixed it.

"Who was what?" She raised an eyebrow cheekily. You were about to wipe that smirk off her face.

"Was it Von Parsley? Oh no, I'm pretty sure it starts with an R. Ron Parsley, then? Oh wait, I think I got it. Ron Weasel?" She turned bright red at the name as she hid her face.

"How do you know him?" She hid her embarrassment with a book. It was an okay attempt but little did she know you could see the redness of her ears.

"You talk about him, like a lot." It was like chanting the bible, Harry Pottery and Ron Weasel were the names that would casually roll over her tongue. "I do not!" She claimed, but with a little smile on her face. "And it's Weasley, not Weasel, thank you very much."

You puffed at what she said but just shrugged. You slightly sat beside her, leaning over the trunk as you put your head on her shoulder, leaning slightly. "What are you reading, anyway?"

Eyebrows furrowed when she automatically closed the book to which you shot an offended look. "Nothing, just a really cool book."

You sighed, sitting slightly straighter than before. It was no use getting things out of her, she's always been persistent. It had been like that the moment she came back from her private boarding school.

"You can always come back here, Mione. The teachers miss you like crazy that they've been pumping things out of me." You sighed.

No response.

She looked away from your comment, it was clear that she wasn't happy about your suggestion.

"Or not." You added jokingly to ease what she was feeling. "You could just chase after Ron Weasel over there." This time surely, she faced you to hit you in your arm. A big smile plastered over her face.

"That prat is totally not my type! I do not have a crush on him!"

"Whoa there, Mione. You should just relax." You raised both hands and nodded, looking straight at her like her words and invalid. "Say that to his face when you get to his house, now will you?"

The girl made sure to stab you directly in the chest with a knife using only her eyes, you threw both hands up in the air. It was honestly fun messing with her. "Your words, not mine."

She rolled her eyes, opening the book once more. You leaned over as you saw the contents, none of it registered to you. Unfamiliar pages loitered with elegant black cursive that hurt your eyes, it barely made sense.

Then again, you were best friends with the weird kid. Maybe all these things are those you find endearing as you grew up with her. You put your head on her shoulder once again. The wind was growing stronger with every passing minute and it was almost perfect for you to just fall asleep.

"I just realized none of the teachers liked me." You started, she just kept quiet. A sign she was listening, and never made any comments when it came to you talking.

"I wasn't smart like you, I am also definitely not popular. I'm not appealing, my family isn't rich, I don't have many friends, I don't get invited to many events." You sighed. "Maybe because they like you, Mione, they learned to talk to me." You sighed, she took your hands and massaged your outer palm. "Don't be hard on yourself. It wasn't because of me, maybe, they generally don't like people like us."

She laughed when she saw you cling to her even further, "Maybe you would've liked it when you were in my school." She said.

"But I like it here." The neighborhood you grew up in, was chilly for a summer. Yet, the lemonade stand didn't fail to always set up across their lawn.

"Yes, that's why." She reasoned.

__________

"Why do you keep a perfectly carved stick in your closet?" You ask, taking out the stick you saw as you helped her pack for the next school year.

Panic flashed in her eyes like she bolted up in her bed shouting, "Give me that!" and the next thing you know is that she was stuffing the stick in her pocket.

Her odd behavior matched the randomness of all the things you've been dealing with for the past four years. "You don't have to be so rough about it, it's just a stick." You sighed. But maybe it wasn't. You know, the thing about Hermione is that she holds a lot of sentimental value on random things that you might consider her hoarding most of those things in her closet, even her bathroom cabinet is not safe from those.

Of course, she didn't reply. Nothing to be mad about, never mad at you. Although, you kind of wished she was. You never know the things that would piss her off, that was because she never took her anger out of you.

"I used to have a rose I received from Sam. But it wilted." You said, like then again, she didn't say anything back. You could see her folding the clothes she would need for the next school year, it's as if she lives there.

"I used to like Sam, remember?" You smiled, lightening up and she nodded. "Yeah. I remember." Just like that, she was back to her usual self again.

"I don't want to be bothered, Mione." You looked down at the frames hanging up on Hermione's bedroom wall, a few with her parents but most of them made up of you and her growing up. How could you not? You remember the day she knocked out your teeth in the playground, that was the first time you both met. "But I'm not magic."

She stopped to look at you, her hands frozen solid and she had no intentions of stopping to fold her clothes back again. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know what's going on in your mind. I'm not a mind reader, Mione. I know that you don't want me to be but I just hate it when you disregard things that I have said. Why don't you get mad at me?"

She relaxed and looked at you. Maybe it was because of the way you said it or maybe you did not push it any further but she was relieved and you didn't have to know. You wouldn't understand why she was internally freaking out over your choice of words.

"Tell me something I didn't know." And she knew, maybe, just maybe this is the last time she'd ever get to spend a nice summer with you. It wasn't about you being ready, she never planned to tell you anything. It was her.

"Promise not to tell anyone?"

"What?"

"Swear on it." She looked at you so seriously, never before did you see her shaken and confused.

"I swear." You nodded, this time, you know you are supposed to go sit in her bed. So you did.

The girl was maybe hyperventilating, you almost regret pushing her to speak up with her emotions. Almost. It was a treat, but you know you don't have to push her like that, but there was this urge telling you that maybe this might be the only chance.

She stood up to kneel in front of you, she shouldn't have, but she did anyway. She took both your hands in hers and breathed, seeking comfort and you tried to match her rhythm.

"I'm a witch." She breathed, closing both her eyes to look at your reaction. No words, you just looked at her. No questions, you believe her, and it was all there to say.

"How?" You shake your head. "Magic." Like the fairytales that were read to you ever so often that you normalize it as a bedtime story? It is much more darker and you looked at her without asking anymore. "I believe you, Mione."

__________

You were never a fan of thrill, you didn't expect you'd go through a wall. On your second attempt at that, Hermoine had you on a pep talk about believing and all, that's what you did, and got your head badly collided on the wall. You had to bid her goodbye and her parents came as well.

There weren't that many people in the area, and Hermione was one of the few to go early. She said that it was something about Von Weasel and the Quidditch World Cup. Not that you know what that is considering you have little to no idea what was happening.

As soon as a Jacobite steam train appeared, Hermione had to bid you all goodbye. She told you it wasn't her usual route to the Weasels and had to take an alternative but she wanted you to bid her goodbye as she boarded the Hogwarts Express. She told you that it was special, you didn't want to take her moment with her parents away though. She would miss them like crazy, but she would always insist that she had a feeling this time, it was really special. You took her word for it.

You bid her goodbye and blew kisses as she waved her hands out the window. The train was almost leaving, it didn't fill up like you thought it would. Maybe Hermione was just early. It wasn't busy like you thought, but there were multiple 11-12-year-olds running around, like the first time your best friend told you that she got admitted to her 'private boarding school'. You thought it was funny how she managed to make up excuses all the time.

Now you're not too sure how you'd get by a day without thinking of all these, sadly, you aren't the few gifted ones who are born to do things like Hermione would. Surely, your parents have high hopes for you and you'll eventually need to seriously move back to your private boarding school in less than a week. With the stupidly strict uniform and teachers who only talk to you when needed.

You had to go, the train left. You looked back at Hermione's parents as they made their way back to the wall, they expected you to follow. That you would, but stopped in your tracks once a figure stopped you midway. Far across you, a boy with platinum blonde hair was wearing black formal clothes. You didn't know why but you thought he looked fine. Handsome even, it was outrageous, you never go googly-eyes for a stranger. Hermione would've laughed if she saw you.

He was alluring, you thought that maybe he was a wizard, perhaps the same age as you are? Does he know Hermione? You thought of a million reasons why you are unable to move and follow back Hermione's parents.

The guy was alone, he had a cart though. You wondered why he didn't get on the train that Hermione took, it was strange, maybe he'd take the other? How badly it is that you want to strike up a conversation, you know you weren't like this. Not with Sam at least.

And you saw him sigh, go by a distant chair, and sit. He started tapping his foot, like waiting for someone and it was like he was always annoyed. It was perplexing to see, and you knew you had to take one step closer.

He noticed you, with a frown on his face. He was about to make a snarky comment but debated whether to actually say it, instead, scooted over for you to sit down on the other side. You wanted to say something, really. But didn't dare to actually come up with words. You knew you were shy and awkward, you just hoped it wasn't for this moment that could ruin you for next years to come.

He was your type, of course he is. Formal dressed, well-kept hair, and you turn to look at him, startled to see he is looking back at you.

Silence.

The way your heart jumped with dopamine.

He didn't say anything back, but the snarl in his face disappeared. He observed you, without malice no, not with judgment. He wasn't criticizing you at all and all you wanted to be in that moment was something he was looking at like a treat in his eyes.

Let that come true.

He has the clearest grey eyes you have seen. Draws you like a whirlpool but all you have to do is make a move, perhaps a simple 'Hi' would suffice. You shifted uncomfortably but you managed to throw him a small smile.

So much like Hermione, he didn't return the favor. But you saw the way his tensed shoulders dropped and eyes softened. He was about to say something when-

"It's time to go," A deep slurred voice distracts you as you look up to see someone with long platinum blond hair standing, eyeing the boy who immediately stood up. "Yes, father."

You heard him say, his voice never clearer on your ears like water, you were bewitched. At that moment, you thought of how badly you wanted to waltz with him. But he stood up and looked at you quickly before the expression of annoyance crept back to his face before walking away.

You saw the guy beside him throw you a sharp glare muttering something along the lines of 'muggles' like it was something disgusting. You sat there completely unaware of how everything in your head did not play the way you wanted.

You didn't get to ask for his name, he was about to say something too. But you remember so clearly the distinct smell of Mahogany Wood and Fresh apples. You liked it.

You jolted as you heard your name being called from the distance, you almost forgot about it. You hurriedly stood up with a smile on your face, following the voice as you said you were sorry that you got sidetracked along the way.

Maybe next year you'll see him and get to ask for his name. Maybe he thought the same. You were ecstatic. Maybe he did.

You weren't able to come. Hermione didn't invite you to send her off.

IThat next year, he waited in the same spot but you never came.

#harry potter #draco malfoy #draco x reader #reader insert #muggle reader #hermione granger #lucius malfoy #oneshot #fanfiction #random thoughts #say sike right now #please say sike #say sike rn #i don't regret it

32 notes · View notes