“𝕀 𝕔𝕒𝕟 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥 𝕠𝕟 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕒𝕗𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥

Эстетика к переводу фанфика «Глаза леса» от замечательной @rizzlewrites

They make such a beautiful couple, my wayward lovers. A perfect mismatched set. One dark, the other light. One sunshine and autumn, the other thunderstorms and rainy days.

Воевать ради мира - это как трахаться во имя девственности

Джордж Карлин

Я слушаю, как ты спишь. Я слышу, что тебе снится. (c) Аль Квотион

Daydreaming #dramione

Hp sketches #turn2page394

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Pov: Теодор и Гермиона встречаются, но все идёт крахом, когда Тео принимает метку.

При расставании Нотт дарит Грейнджер кольцо-портключ, которое перенесёт ее в Лос-Анджелес на мост.

Мир Гермионы разрушен и она использует подарок, чтобы «полетать». Но Теодор против…

Overdue by HgwrtsExchngeStdnt

Harry threw his gear haphazardly into his locker, stuffing and shoving it hastily so he could get the door closed. "Merlin, Potter, what's the rush?" Albert Dewhurst on his left chuckled, "I know you're pretty beat up, but you won't die if you can't get to hospital this minute." "I'm not going to Hospital," he muttered quietly. "Oh, that's right…" Dewhurst grinned knowingly, working off his jacket. "Got your very own Healer at home, haven't you? Going to let her work her magic?" he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "It's not that – she's probably going spare, though. We meant to be finished with this mission two and a half weeks ago…She knows she wont get any information from the Office – I have to get home…" he forced his locker shut, and headed for the door. "Don't you have reports you have to do?" "They can wait," Harry stated. "Aren't you at least going to change so you can turn in your uniform for repairs?" Dewhurst called, holding his own torn and slightly bloodied jacket in the air. "Don't have the time!" Harry called back. He jogged to the apparition point, ignoring the alarmed looks his appearance garnered. He hadn't seen his reflection, and frankly he didn't care to. He just wanted to be home. … Hermione emerged from Teddy's room, clutching Fellowship of the Ring to her chest. She ached. Through and through. She tried to be strong for Teddy, tried to keep up the pretense of normalcy when every little daily habit felt lonesome and cold. Every night they read. She and Teddy would sit against the headboard, taking turns reading aloud, and Harry would stretch out over the rest of the bed, providing commentary and sound effects for Teddy's amusement. Lord of the Rings just wasn't as funny without Harry. She wanted him back. She hadn't slept in a week and as frustrating as the lack of contact from Harry or the Auror Office was, no news was the only good news she had. And normally, she was fine. Well, better, anyway. But it was nearly 3 weeks past when he was due to return, and putting on a brave face got steadily more difficult. She sighed, and went to her room to get ready for bed. Standing in the shower, she tried to think which book she wanted to read before bed…tried to convince herself that she wanted to read at all. When she couldn't justify standing under the hot stream any longer, she got out, toweled off, and began brushing her hair. … The gash in Harry's side had coagulated, and the one on his right arm had nearly stopped bleeding. His partly rashed, partly shredded knuckles seemed to scream in protest as he curled his fingers around the doorknob and pushed through. … Hermione sat up straight, distracted from a particularly stubborn knot in her hair by the sound of the front door opening. She clambered off the bed and rushed to the entry. "Harry James -!" She was rounding a corner when she saw him. Bloodied and gashed and exhausted. She gasped, "Oh, Harry!" "Don't worry, Hermione," he smiled wryly, "It's all cosmetic – no real damage." Hermione was not amused. How dare he waltz back in looking like he'd been in a cage fight with a Hungarian Horntail and pretend like all was well. "Harry James Potter! You are impossible!" she fumed, marching up to him, "I know you're on a mission but couldn't you find some way to let us know you were alive? That you'd be longer than you planned? You had poor Teddy petrified he'd be fatherless all over again!" "Hermione, I-" "No! Harry, you had me worried sick! I can't believe –" … As Hermione ranted on, Harry didn't quite get most of the words, but he saw her swiping at angry tears, and how she wouldn't come close to him. She marched around, swooped in and withdrew, but never touched him. She wasn't really angry with him at all. If she was properly angry, she'd be jinxing him and pounding her fists against his chest. So, he strode towards her, and as she raised a hand to keep him away, he pushed her wrist away gently, and kissed her. Once she stopped trying to hit him, she held to him as if her very existence depended upon it. Harry

grinned, pulling back, "It's nice to see you too." Her insistence that she hated him was made less effective by the hiccough-sob combination that interrupted it. … "Hagrid's Umbrella! How did you manage this one!" Hermione asked, looking more closely at the gash on his side and reaching for ointment. "Er…that one was my own fault. I had one in front of me and one to the side. Based on what little I could make out of their incantations, I decided to block the curse from the side, and I narrowly missed the one from the front – I jumped out of the way and scraped up against a bloody rock." He grimaced as the cleansing ointments stung, waiting for the cool sensation that accompanied Hermione's frequent soothing charms. … Hermione saw a lot of blood. Plenty of things a great deal more severe than Harry's 'cosmetic' damage. And she knew that Harry was no stranger to injury, but each time he returned the worse for wear, her legs shook and her throat stopped up like a first year Healing intern. "I'm sorry I couldn't get word to you…about it being longer than planned," Harry said quietly. "Harry, I didn't mean that, I'm so sorry…It's just that –well, you know me – I worry." "Still. I am sorry." She muttered a soothing charm over the ragged skin and bandaged it quickly. "All right – hands?" Harry sat up, offering them. "Oh!" Hermione clasped her hands over her mouth. She'd thought the other injuries were ugly. "Oh my…" "Yeah…Sorry," Harry said apologetically, "I think I got some blood in your hair…earlier." … Harry watched her gaze flicker from his hands to his face, horrified. "Hermione? Are you all right?…the muscles and everything are fine, it just looks bad." She shook her head, eyes shutting tight. "Would you like me to go to St. Mungo's?" he asked gently. Hermione breathed deeply after a few moments, and exhaled, "No…I'll take care of it," She got up, and without looking at him, went to her medicine cupboard. She returned with several bowls floating beside her. Harry acquiesced as she took his hand gingerly and sent a stream of water over his hand to clean out the debris, and then set it in a bowl of what he could only assume was Murtlap Essence. But Hermione didn't speak or look away from her work. Eventually, when both his hands were resting in bowls, and the sting was starting to dissipate, Harry cleared his throat. Hermione paused in cleaning her Healing equipment, and looked at him. "Yes?" "Are you all right?" She smiled sadly. "I don't like seeing you hurt." "I can start going to hospital before I come home, if you like…" "No," she shook her head, "It's fine…really, I prefer you coming here. I know I'm a good Healer, and I feel safer knowing nothing will be overlooked." "But if it distresses you…" "Before you come home, I wonder if the injuries will be worse than the last," Hermione stated calmly, "…wonder about the day when I can't cure you at home with Murtlap essence and disinfectant potions…wonder about the days you'll be confined to some bed in St. Mungos…I can't bear feeling like I wont be enough to take care of you." "You are, Hermione, you're the best there is," he said, wishing he could take a hold of her like he usually did when she worried. "I can't fix everyone, Harry. And I can't lose you. Not now, not after so much." Harry swallowed a heavy sigh, and waited for Hermione to look at him. When she did, he kept his voice gentle and even, and asked, "Hermione…do you want me to find different work? I'm sure I could find a teaching post…or, I'm qualified to move up in rank…I'd be home more, and involved in the planning and intel rather than the actual missions." Hermione looked as if she might cry, and kissed him, then hugged his neck, breathing against the sensitive skin. And he loved Hermione, but something in his heart cracked, until her whispered reply. "Oh goodness, Harry. Don't you dare give up all you worked at for my sake." "But Teddy –" "-knows he has the bravest fathers in the world. You're his idol, Harry." "Thank you, Hermione." "Just keep coming home to

me," she insisted, curling against him and tracing the designs on his shirt. "I don't care how battered or bruised, as long as you make it home." "I'll do my best," he promised, and kissed her head.