UnMarked

@sapphicmicrofics nobleflower angst (dark mark prompt)

"Cissy..." Alice hisses, tears threatening to spill.

Narcissa hates the disappointment in her face, hates the disapproving slant of her brows, hates the expression that says she's too far gone for saving.

Alice used to look at her like she was worthy. Like she was redeemable. So much so, that Narcissa had almost believed it.

She needs Alice to see her that way again.

"But I didn't get it!" Narcissa pulls up her sleeve for proof. Her creamy skin is unmarred. "I didn't get the mark, Al."

"You may as well have!" Alice shouts angrily. "You're letting that... that maniac stay in your house!"

"It's only for a little while... Lucius says-"

"Lucius?! Why are you still letting him run your life?"

"Alice..."

The silence stretches uncomfortably for a moment too long.

"Oh, Merlin. You're never going to leave are you?" Alice's eyes are wide, staring at Narcissa like she could disappear any second.

"I- I will. I want to. I- Alice, listen, I can't just-"

Alice shakes her head, and the tears roll down her cheeks, brown eyes glistening. She gives Narcissa a tiny smile, one of resignation.

"I keep thinking you'll change, but you never do."

Narcissa's throat burns with tears, but she keeps her face cold, expressionless like she's been taught. "Al..." she croaks.

Alice leans in and kisses Narcissa, just a gentle press of lips, a token, something that she can keep for later to remember her by. Alice lingers, eyes closed to take in the moment, but Narcissa doesn't look away for a second. She desperately tries to memorize the slope of her lips, the dark flutter of lashes on flushed cheeks, the curl of hair resting across Alice's forehead.

"I wish we could have been different," Alice whispers.

Narcissa always knew that they were destined to crash and burn, she just didn't know that it would hurt like this.

prompt #26: bunny

pairing: fleur/hermione word count: 856

❈ written for @sapphicmicrofics ❈

—

“Ginny is so bloody crass,” Hermione muttered under her breath after shutting the front door to Fleur’s cottage. Shrugging off her travelling cloak, she didn’t notice her girlfriend until she'd set the garment on their coat and cloak rack.

Fleur stood leaning against the doorframe that led into the sitting room, and Hermione startled because she swore that she hadn’t been there when she’d opened the door. Yet, it was clear that either Fleur had excellent hearing or had, in fact, been right there when Hermione had entered, when she was asked how exactly Ginny was so bloody crass.

Rolling her eyes, Hermione brushed past Fleur and took a seat near the hearth, fireplace devoid of any natural usage during this time of year. Glancing toward Fleur, who now stood in front of the adjacent sofa, resting her forearms on the back of it and fixing her with a genuinely curious look, Hermione pressed her lips together before saying, “She accused us of fucking like rabbits, considering I skipped my weekly lunch with her once.” She threw her hands up into the air. “Once!”

An amused grin spread slowly across Fleur’s lips, and Hermione had half a mind to pout about how in the world Fleur could find this at all funny, yet she waited to hear what her girlfriend had to say about it.

Shrugging, then raising a hand and turning it palm side up, Fleur was the picture of someone unperturbed. Hermione eyed Fleur’s tongue as it ran along the length of her lower lip, an image of the same tongue swirling around her breast the previous night flashing to the forefront of her mind. She clenched her jaw, shoving the memory aside.

“You are known for your impeccable punctuality, non?”

Hermione frowned. “I am, but…”

“Therefore, is it not… apt, to conclude that you were otherwise occupied?”

Shifting in her seat, Hermione ducked her head for a moment, took a steadying breath, then looked Fleur square in the eye. “Of course, but she didn’t immediately have to conclude that we’re… we’re fucking like rabbits!”

She hated the heat that flooded her face, betraying her emotions even more so, but not as much as she absolutely abhorred how smug Fleur appeared as she came around the side of the sofa and sat down on the armrest of the chair Hermione still sat in.

Fleur’s fingers took light hold of Hermione’s curls, idly playing with them, while her other hand cupped Hermione’s chin and drew her face toward her so their eyes met again. “And yet, she wasn’t wrong, Hermione.” Fleur’s fingertips caressing the underside of her chin was going to undo her remaining self-control. “Ginny is observant, is she not?”

Glancing out of the corner of her eyes and grumbling under her breath, Hermione finally admitted, “She is. But, it’s only, her choice of words—”

“Would you have felt better if she said we were fucking like bunnies?” Fleur offered, as if it fixed everything. It didn’t fix Ginny’s knowing smirk as Hermione didn’t deign to answer her accusation, didn’t fix the heat that had begun to flare in her lower abdomen at the flurry of memories Ginny’s words had brought up and certainly did not fix the burning heat that now licked at her, reducing her to a woman who truly wanted to fuck the other woman beside her as if they were rabbits. Or bunnies.

She knew she was an entire open book at this point, her breathing grown shallow, her legs crossed and thighs squeezing together every few seconds. Yet Fleur, her thrall not even properly reaching out, continued to simply play with her hair and flex her fingertips that still cupped Hermione’s chin. At least until Hermione met her gaze again.

Chewing on the inside of her cheek, Hermione finally uttered, “You’re teasing me.”

Her girlfriend’s amused grin transformed into a genuine, tender smile. “I tease with a purpose, mon trésor. Ginny has wound you up so tightly, and I would rather enjoy fucking like bunnies so I can relieve you. Unless you would rather unwind in a different fashion, of course…” she trailed off, releasing her fingers from Hermione’s chin and hair.

Jaw gone slack, Hermione stood up from the seat and grabbed hold of one of Fleur’s wrists. “No, I—fuck.” She scuffed the heel of her boots against the floor, torn for only a second before she decided. “Ginny and whatever she thinks, whatever anyone thinks… they can all sod off; we can fuck however much we want to here, whenever we want to.”

“There’s the woman I love,” Fleur said, and Hermione’s heart swelled at the words. “Now, when you say whenever…”

Her eyes blatantly teased Hermione, and she could only roll her eyes good-naturedly before responding, “Yes, that includes now. Especially right now.”

As Fleur led the way, Hermione wondered where she was taking them this time. She doubted she would mind anywhere they’d already pleasured each other in this cottage, or for that matter, anywhere new as well. Though she wondered how many new spots were left now, because… Ginny had had a point.

Cissamione - 'Lost Voice'

~140 words

When Hermione stepped through the floo to Narcissa’s cottage, the stylish older witch didn’t await her at the other side as usual. Nor sat any teacups, saucers or petit fours on the coffee table.

“Narcissa?” She called out into the empty room.

The scuff of loose slippers was the only indication that anyone was home at all. Meekly, Narcissa shuffled into the living room, not looking her lavish self.

“Are you alright?” Hermione asked, rather stupidly.

Narcissa shook her head, holding out a small piece of parchment. It read:

‘I’m rather unwell and I’ve lost my voice, would you allow me to try something?’

She answered, glancing between the note and the woman in front of her. “Of course, anything you need.”

Not a second later, a voice echoed through her mind, Narcissa’s voice, although Hermione knew she hadn’t spoken.

“Hello, darling.”

@sapphicmicrofics

Generation

(Minerva/Poppy, 87 words, @sapphicmicrofics)

Minerva was always pleased when she saw two female students holding hands or sneaking off to be alone. When she was younger, she would never have done that. It was simply not allowed. 

This new generation could get away with it. 

She wondered what they would say if her students knew she was like them. For her, it was about subtlety. A hand on the shoulder, a note passed in class. She squeezed the hand in hers, as she and Poppy ate dinner one handed as usual. 

Lips

Fleurmione - 500 words @sapphicmicrofics

vampire AU

~~~~~~~

“Do you really like that color lipstick or can you not hide the stains of who you are anymore?”

Hermione chuckles darkly in response, pointed teeth briefly peeking out beneath the dark red of her lips.

Her iron grip tightens over Fleur’s wrists which are held above her head against the wall, and with her free hand she trails a finger down the blonde’s nose. Merciless eyes rise to meet her defiant ones the moment her fingertip drops to the dip of the hunter’s upper lip.

It’s a low blow, wrenching Fleur’s heart with long-buried memories, which is undoubtedly her intent.

Tracing soft smiles in bed. Tender reminders of how the cupid’s bow was her favorite part of the blonde’s mouth.

All ashes now in the years Fleur has hunted her.

“You can lick it off and find out,” dares Hermione, hips pressing against hers, the finger on her mouth moving to rest provocatively on her chest.

Honey-brown eyes are hard in a way they never were in life. A fact Fleur still finds disconcerting. But there’s something else there saying the offer is real. A longing she recognizes from their days as clueless teenagers. A steadfast need that grew stronger through five years of marriage.

For all the vampire’s toying and flirting, mocking and taking advantage of their past whenever possible, her desire has never been this genuine. Or maybe Fleur refused to see it as such. Yet here Hermione is, wanting her.

The temptation is terrible. To taste her. To feel that softness again and pretend for however long it lasts that their love is alive and well.

Years ago she would have spat at the vampire in righteous anger. But two decades without her wife have been lonely. And she’s so damn tired.

“Please,” the blonde whispers, trembling. From fear or anticipation, she can’t tell.

Surprisingly, the grip on her wrists loosens. The brunette leans forward, nuzzling into her cheek.

“Oh my Fleur,” breathes Hermione. “How I’ve missed you.”

The ache of it is unmistakable. The same ache that’s lived within her all these years. Her eyes sting as she slackens and surrenders.

Lips swiftly take hers, and it’s everything Fleur remembers and more. She only registers that her wrists are free once Hermione’s arms wrap around her. Holding her like she’ll never let go. Her tongue sliding against hers just like she used to. Like she needs her. Like she loves her.

Instead of reaching for the stake hidden in her boot, Fleur pulls Hermione closer, gasping and crying into her mouth that she’s missed her, too. That she can’t lose her again.

“Shh, I know. I know,” soothes Hermione, her thumbs wiping away Fleur’s tears, gentle kisses muting her whimpers.

Until at last, a cold hand cradles her chin and slowly turns her face, exposing her neck.

Fleur waits breathlessly, her heart stuttering at the flash of fangs before feeling kiss-warmed lips smear over her skin.

“Forever will only hurt for a second, my love.”

~~~~~~~

Read on ao3 here

Panicked

@sapphicmicrofics​​​​​​

Pairing: Hermione Granger/Pansy Parkinson Rating: T WC: 50

*****

Peeves made her do it.  How else can Hermione explain the panicked fumble as she shoves Pansy into the nearest broom closet, mid-argument? Pansy is infuriating, the way her perfume fills the space, the way her body feels pressed against Hermione as their continued fight descends into harsh, biting kisses. 

HP Sapphic Microfics 2023

"I can't believe I got detention. It's all your fault!" - Hermione Granger/Pansy Parkinson

wc: 100 | ao3 | hp sapphic microfics (@sapphicmicrofics): day 7, detention and day 8, cauldron | fandom: harry potter | rating: general | tags: femslash, established relationship, fluff, attempt at humor, fluff and humor, potions accident, detention, jealousy, jealous pansy parkinson

Alice/Narcissa Drabble: Tears

Words: 100 | Prompt: Tears | Rating: Teen

For @sapphicmicrofics' prompt "tears", canon compliant angst <3

Narcissa Malfoy shed no tears when she first learned of Alice’s fate. It wouldn’t do, to be seen crying over a halfblood witch — a bloodtraitor’s wife. Narcissa Malfoy shed no tears when her friends — her sister — were sentenced for their unspeakable crimes. It wouldn’t do, to be seen weeping for the most reviled criminals. Only when she arrived home and reached into her robes’ pocket, did Narcissa Malfoy spill her tears for Alice Longbottom. When her hand closed around a forgotten piece of candy, its wrapper half undone. Narcissa Malfoy cried like she intended to drown herself in her tears.

For the @sapphicmicrofics prompt joint. 170 words of Pandalily cottage core cannibal lesbians. But only implied. 🍗

"Don't open that!" Pandora called, stepping between Lily and the garden shed. "It's a mess in there."

"I was just looking for the watering can," Lily said, wiping her fingers on her jeans, leaving behind faintly red streaks. The door handle must be rusty. "The roses look a little thirsty." 

"You can water the flowers whenever you like once you've moved in." Linking their arms together, Pandora led Lily towards the small table heaped with salads and a jug of lemonade. "Come sit down. Dinner is ready."

She opened her mouth to speak—could it be happening at last?—but Pandora hushed her. "Later, my love. First we eat."

Lily pressed her lips together, but her joy was too great to keep inside. "Please tell me, did he finally agree to the divorce?" Lily burst out. Xenophilius had been dragging his feet ever since Luna's birth. 

"Not so much," Pandora said, lifting the grill's hood and releasing an aromatic waft of succulent barbecued meat. "But he won't be a problem anymore."

prompt #30: relief

pairing: fleur/hermione word count: 758

rating: explicit (sexual content)

author's note: this follows prompt #26 (bunny).

❈ written for @sapphicmicrofics ❈

—

Her thrall wrapped around Hermione, Fleur rolled her hips while her girlfriend’s tongue licked up the length of her, fingers spreading her open just above her clit. When Hermione’s fingertip lightly grazed the hardened nub, Fleur whined, pushing closer as she lifted her hips, wordlessly begging for more friction and pressure. She’d learned long ago to rein her thrall in, keep it from affecting—or rather, overwhelming—her partners, but sometimes it still bucked against her, straining for dominance, to tug people toward fulfilling her desires as soon as possible.

It was as if the thrall didn’t understand how alluring it was to instead have her desires denied at times, or at least postponed. And so she pulled back her thrall from her lover, her eyelids heavy as she peered down her bare, heaving chest, finding Hermione’s brown eyes overblown by black, her chin wet with Fleur’s liquid arousal. Hermione smiled at her, dragging her tongue over her lower lip before dipping her head back down, wrenching a strangled sob from Fleur as her tongue ran over and in between her inner folds, yet never breached her entrance.

“You are such a tease,” Fleur managed to pant out through the thick haze developing in her mind that she knew would soon render her incapable of voicing any intelligible thought.

Hermione’s resulting answer came in the form of a low hum that had Fleur’s fingers gripping the bedsheets for dear life, as if someone were trying to jerk her off the mattress entirely. She threw her head back, swearing in her native tongue before she was reduced to breathy moans and needy whimpers, as Hermione finally massaged her clit with the soft pad of a finger and her tongue entered into wet heat, drawing the fire in Fleur’s lower belly to a fever pitch. They weren’t anywhere special, per se, nor anyway new, yet something about being here, in the bed they slept in together almost every night now—was so domestic that it made Fleur ache and throb in a way that fucking on top of the bathroom countertop couldn’t.

While Ginny had been correct in that she and Hermione had been fucking like rabbits, there was so much more to it than simply fucking. They were in the process of learning how to love each other, how to do more than simply bring one another to the heights of pleasure; they were revealing themselves piece by piece and finding how their pieces fit together. Such was how Fleur knew it was time now to bring her thrall back into gentle play, lapping at the edges of Hermione’s being, ebbing and flowing, bringing Hermione’s arousal to the forefront again, even though Fleur had only just brought her to a shattering orgasm a few minutes earlier.

Yet she knew Hermione enjoyed having to focus on pleasuring Fleur while her own sex throbbed unattended once again, and Fleur found that she experienced a fresh wave of arousal at the image of Hermione rubbing her thighs together while wetness seeped from the both of them—yet only Fleur received any sort of relief for the time being.

As Hermione artfully rolled and further pushed her tongue inside of her, Fleur undulated her hips, her hands flexing in their grip on the bedsheets. One of Hermione’s hands continued to press Fleur’s clit in circles, speeding up every few rotations, while the other caressed Fleur’s hipbone, her eyes every so often flicking up to watch as Fleur gradually, then all at once, lost control of her thrall when she came undone in a staggering orgasm that crashed through her.

Her toes curled and she cried out with a gasp as her climax shook her, the thrall bursting forth like a solar flare, and only as she began to come back down did she realise that it had brought Hermione through to orgasm as well, the other woman turned onto her side, actually breathlessly laughing through her own climax. When she tilted her head up to look at Fleur, her gaze was soft and her smile easy, her arm reaching up, fingers trailing over the curve of Fleur’s hip.

“That was… You’re astounding, Fleur,” Hermione breathed, and Fleur… she couldn’t even speak a word. Tears clouded her vision, the afterglow of it all settling inside of her bones, and Hermione practically climbed up her, wrapping her arms around Fleur and tugging her close. She didn’t say a word as this had happened before, only held Fleur as the thrall eased, bone-deep relief replacing need.

missing pieces

for @sapphicmicrofics august 18th prompt: missing

pairing: vanceity (emmeline/emma) + past emmary and emjily

word count: 645

part ii: last ones standing

There are pieces missing from her heart. Emma has felt their absence everyday for the past fourteen years, holes in the shapes of two bodies that once fit perfectly against her own.

She keeps James and Lily in her memory, the only place where they're still alive. She rejoins the war in their name, fights in an effort to protect their son. A boy she never knew, a boy who could have been her son, too — should have been her son. She doesn't really have anyone left. The people she loved are either dead or she has burned those bridges beyond repair long ago, so it's not really a surprise that she attaches herself to Emmeline in the first meeting of the new Order of The Phoenix. They had known each other once, gone on a couple of missions together. They hadn't been close by any means, but Emmeline was a familiar face in need of someone to come home to at night, and it had been so long since Emma had mattered to anyone, that when Emmeline approached her Emma made space for her in her heart, in her bed. She didn't fit like James and Lily did, but she was a warm body next to hers, and that's all they can hope to have, these days, when the war could take them away at any minute, without warning or apologies, when their hearts already belong to other people that they can never have back. A warm body, and some comfort on difficult nights, is all the luxury they can afford. ⋆ Emmeline has a lot of guilt in her heart, too much of it. She agonizes over her decision every second of everyday, thinking about Mary and how she's doing back home. She hasn't sent her a letter. The last time they had spoken to each other had been an argument, a breakup that neither of them had wanted but one that had been inevitable, and Mary had made it very clear that if Emmeline walked out the door to join another war that it would be the last she saw of Mary. Emmeline understood, even if it broke her heart, and she respected Mary's wishes. It was hard, to love someone when they were risking their life everyday. It was better to let go. Still, Emmeline couldn't bear to go through it alone. She hadn't meant to start anything with Emma. She had just wanted someone to talk to, a friend, someone she could trust. Emma was a familiar face, two years ahead of her at Hogwarts, someone she had fought with in the first war. At first they only offered each other a listening ear, a shoulder to cry on, a couch to crash on. Emmeline hadn't meant for it to become more, but they were both lonely, both mourning past relationships. Emma told her about James and Lily, in the dark of her bedroom, and Emmeline talked to her about Mary. Months passed by like this, with Emmeline making something of a home in Emma's flat, with nights spent smoking on her windowsill, the moonlight showing little of their naked bodies, and mornings spent avoiding each other's eye in the light. Emmeline still felt guilty for leaving, even more so now that she had gotten herself into some sort of relationship with another woman. It felt like cheating on Mary, even though they weren't together anymore. But when she met the tip of a wand in a safe house, when she took her last breath, she found herself glad for the company. Emma wasn't the love of her life, and Emmeline wasn't the love of hers, but there had been love there, somewhere, for a time, amongst the old wounds and missing pieces. And that's all they could have hoped for, really. A little love to carry into their graves.

Wound

(Fleur/Tonks, 103 words, @sapphicmicrofics)

“Let me see,” Fleur said, trying to move Tonks’ hands from the spot on her middle.

“Ow, stop…leave me alone,” Tonks said, curling into herself. 

“What happened, cherie? Why won’t you tell me?”

“Because…ugh. Because I did something stupid on a mission and I deserved to get wounded,” Tonks said, petulantly. 

Fleur pulled back and looked at Tonks’ pale face. She cupped her chin in her hands. “You did what you thought was right, cherie. You do not deserve to be wounded.”

Tonks met her eyes unwillingly. “You don’t even know what happened.”

“It does not matter. Will you let me heal it?”

"Lavender" Quillkiller Oneshot

Prompt by @sapphicmicrofics (prompt: lavender)

-

Rita walked down the corridors, until she reached the exit into the grounds. She took a step outside, breathing in the fresh spring air.

Deciding she shouldn't stay standing around when she had a reason to be out here, Rita continued her walk down to the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

All she knew was that Bella had left her a note, telling her to come to their usual spot after class.

Rita, after making sure the coast was clear, walked into the forest - following a path she and Bella knew by heart, but doubted very many others knew.

Before Rita knew it she walked into the meadow and was greeted by strong scent of lavender from all the lavender flowers growing in the big clearing. It was always so beautiful in the spring.

But, in Rita's eyes, the flowers paled in comparison to woman sitting amongst the sea of purple.

"Took you long enough," Bellatrix spoke, not having to look behind her to know Rita had joined her.

"Sorry," Rita apologized, walking until she was next to Bellatrix and took a seat next to her.

"I'm just glad you're here," Bellatrix spoke softly, a tone very few ever heard from her. Her hand entangling with Rita's.

"Like I'd ever miss an excuse to be with you, dearest."

"You're so corny."

"Only for you, though."

Bellatrix smiles over at her love, only knowing true contentment when Rita was with her - a feeling, and person, she wouldn't replace for the whole world.

"I know I don't say it nearly enough, but I love you."

That earned a smile from Rita, who, though, was already smiling - who wouldn't be when they are in such a beautiful place, with an even more beautiful person they can call their own.

"Love you too, Bella."

-

[Word count: 289]

Preference

(Pansy/Hermione, 200 words, ao3, @sapphicmicrofics)

“These muggle women are a nuisance,” Pansy muttered when she returned to the booth with their drinks. She grinned. “I swear I don’t mean that in a death eater-y way.”

“You’re not as funny as you think you are.” Hermione rolled her eyes, not bothering to ask what the complaint was about. They were at a muggle gay bar on ladies’ night. Hermione had watched as multiple women interrupted Pansy’s quest for drinks to bat their eyelashes at her.

Pansy scoffed. “I’m hilarious.”

“As for the women,” Hermione paused as she watched Pansy slouch back in her seat with her legs spread and arms draped along the top of the booth. Hermione’s gaze momentarily lingered on the hint of toned biceps hidden beneath Pansy’s impeccably tailored black blazer before being drawn down to Pansy’s chest. Her girlfriend’s green shirt had enough buttons undone to make it very clear she wasn’t wearing a bra. “I can’t say I blame them.”

Hermione appreciated all types of women. Butch, femme, neither — it hadn’t mattered to her in the past. But sitting here now, watching Pansy run a hand through shaggy hair before smirking in her direction? Hermione thought she might have a preference.

I Didn't Mean That

Bellamione

Day April 13th

Prompt: I didn't mean that

@sapphicmicrofics

Read on ao3

It was all Hermione could do but look all around the quiet library. Tomes and novels covered every which wall, books of all variation and yet Hermione couldn’t settle her eyes on only one. The warm fire meant to keep them warm only served to make the brunette feel like she was under the scorching sun in the middle of Summer. How had she allowed herself to say that?

Bellatrix, on her part, simply kept her stunned gaze on the brunette sharing the sofa with her. With her hands gone limp and book discarded on her lap, the dark witch managed to find her voice.

“What did you say?” she asked.

“I didn’t mean that,” Hermione quickly countered, trying her best to explain the statement she’d said just moments prior.

“Yes, you did,” Bellatrix pushed.

“No!” Hermione defended. “It slipped, I wasn’t-…that wasn’t what I was trying to say.” She could feel a panic attack coming on. How could she dismiss those 3 words that in no way could be mistaken for anything else?

With a sly smirk, Bellatrix dropped her book to the cushion behind her and crept over to where Hermione sat. She gently took the book from the brunette’s hands and discarded it as well before throwing a leg over to sit on her lap.

“What did you say pet?” The dark witch whispered as she pecked the younger witch softly on the lips.

“I didn’t mean that,” Hermione whimpered, quickly falling victim to Bellatrix’s ministrations. She could feel the older woman’s hands roam her neck and stomach; such a good feeling it was.

“Yes you did,” Bellatrix sweetly assured as she kissed Hermione’s neck, up towards her jaw, where she gave a suck and nip that had Hermione trembling in an instant. “Now tell me pet, what did you say?”

“I-,” Hermione gulped and Bellatrix moaned into her neck in anticipation. “I love you.”

“Fuck,” Bellatrix moaned as she abandoned the brunette’s neck in favor of her lips. Snaking her hands into wavy brown locks, Bellatrix pulled Hermione’s head back as she kissed her fiercely. Bellatrix had always rejected love with a passion, but with Hermione, she was willing to try.

Bellamione - 'Playground'

~220 words

Bellatrix’s eyes darted around warily as she took in her surroundings. It's not as if she didn't trust her girlfriend, she absolutely did, but when Hermione told her she had a surprise for her, let's just say she was thinking more along the lines of lacy lingerie, not obnoxiously coloured muggle… things.

“Why are we here, pet?” She asked.

Hermione shuffled her feet at the attention. “Well… the other day when you told me you didn't have much of a childhood, I thought I'd bring you here. It's where muggle children play. I used to come here all the time when I was little.”

Oh. Pausing at the realisation, Bella fell behind. Concerned eyes turned back around.

“I'm sorry, it was a stupid idea. We can go—”

“Hey, hey! I didn't say that. I think it's… sweet…” She struggled out. Truly, Bellatrix couldn't recall the last time anyone had come up with something so thoughtful, just for her.

That would have been special enough until a relieved smile lit up her girlfriend's face.

“I don't deserve you.”

“Oh shush. Of course you do. Now come and sit here.” Hermione strolled over to a small seat attached to a set of chains, held up by a metal framework.

“I'm not sure about that, pet…”

“Trust me, you'll love it.”

She did.

@sapphicmicrofics