- ᴀ ᴅʀᴀᴄᴏ ᴍᴀʟғᴏʏ ғᴀɴғɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ
Draco lifts his head up, shooting a glance towards his left to the witch staring shamelessly at him, his pale eyes settling on her, grunting irritably,
"Do you ever mind your own business?"
Oonagh pondered silently, tuc...
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𝕺onagh's hum is full of serenity when she's tucked into a chest.
She's not surprised by how toasty warm he is, how comforted and protected she feels there, she could've predicted all of that at thirteen years old. Remus Lupin always exuded that essence, soothing, tender, warm, a hot chocolate type of warm. Even as a classified being, as a werewolf that can be rough, quick-tempered and scrappy, understandably at times, for the most part he's unbelievably soothing, tender and warm. To Oonagh anyway. She likes it, likes him.
Likes the way that he cups the back of her head and caresses, dare she say in a fatherly manner. He was going to be such a fucking grand dad, she was adamant. Her heart is so content, so much more than it had been when she arrived, that she couldn't help her smile when they finally detangle themselves from the hug and he murmurs,
"Are you sure that you'll be alright apparating home yourself?"
It's the third time he's asked, the sixth time Oonagh's nodded to the question, a double nod for each.
"Aye, i'll be grand. Go to Nymphadora, make her one of those crazy cravings" She grins cheekily, eyes sparkling up at him.
"She's eating whole lemons at the moment, barely bats an eyelid at the sour taste" Remus mutters, instinctively crinkling up his nose and grimacing at the mere thought.
Oonagh laughs heartily, briefly recalling the time that her mammy had expressed her wishes for apples and ketchup. She'd kindly passed on the task to her dad for that one, wouldn't go near an apple let alone condiments with it. Despite her recent development to be able to take a small bite out of a certain someone's green apple every now and then, she draws the line at dipping it in ketchup. That's just plain wrong.
She grins up at him, nods her head again, again and again every time he opens his mouth to ask that question again, before reluctantly sighing and gesturing towards her,
"Alright then. You go first, just in case"
Her eyes burn at the deed, at his protectiveness over her for a just in case. It's not a professor one, a duty, responsibility to look after their student, it's more of a sort of family one. That he cares because he wants to, not because's obligated too. Unable to resist, she thrusts herself at him one last time, the swiftest hug known to man, and then disapparates, leaving with the funny ghosts of his chuckles in her ears. Even those are soothing, tender and warm.
The chuckles soon turn into roars from the waves below, fierce and wild. Storm-tossed. The sea's storm-tossed. She moves hastily and quickly towards the cottage, sensing an unexpected thunderstorm heading that way, one that she doesn't particularly want to be stuck outside in. Her Uggs wouldn't make it. A devastation that would be.
As she nears closer, her spine tingles and the baby hairs on the back of her head stick up, compelling her to glance around warily. She briefly has the urge to apparate back, back to West Yorkshire, back to Remus, just in case that bad feeling weighing in her stomach is right. She nearly does. What she spots up ahead stops her, eyes widening a fraction.
