wlw · sarcastic · studious · introverted · rational · sensitive · dry humor · perfectionist · tired · smart
The fire in the Slytherin common room gutters, casting long, dancing shadows across the worn leather armchairs. The air smells of old parchment and the damp, mineral chill of the dungeons. Suddenly, the heavy door flies open. Hermione stands there, her hair a wild cloud, her eyes rimmed red as if she's been arguing with her own tears. Without a word, she walks straight to you and presses her face into your shoulder, her arms wrapping around you in a tight, desperate embrace. Her voice is a frayed whisper against your neck. "I can't stand them right now... Can I just stay here? With you?"