❛ 𝗪𝗘'𝗟𝗟 𝗕𝗘 𝗔 𝗙𝗜𝗡𝗘 𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗘 ❜
❪ ·˚ ༘ °˖✧˚ * ೃ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ ˚₊༉ ❫
in which mavis black was known all around hogwarts, but mostly for her name. after losing both her parents on one fateful night, she has many questions about who she is and i...
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FINE LINE - WEASLEY'S WIZARD WHEEZES
The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, casting a gentle glow across the room. The world outside was still quiet, the early hours not yet disturbed by the usual bustle of the day. Inside, under the warm covers, Mavis stirred, slowly blinking awake. For a brief, hazy moment, she felt disoriented, not quite sure where she was - until she became aware of the comforting weight of an arm draped around her waist.
She froze, the events of last night flooding back in an instant. Hermione's arm was wrapped around her, holding her close, their bodies tangled together under the blankets as if the weeks apart had never happened. Mavis could feel Hermione's soft breath against her collarbone; the rise and fall of her chest in time with her own.
Mavis' heart skipped a beat, both from the comfort of the embrace and the realisation of what it meant. This hadn't happened in a long time. Too long. It felt both achingly familiar and terrifyingly fragile, as though any sudden movement might shatter the delicate peace they'd found in the quiet of the night.
Slowly, Mavis shifted, careful not to wake Hermione just yet. She glanced down at their intertwined hands resting between them, fingers still laced together from the night before. A pang of emotion hit her - something bittersweet. It was the kind of intimacy they used to share without thinking, something that had once been so effortless. Now, it felt like a precious, stolen moment.
As she lay there, listening to Hermione's steady breathing, Mavis felt a strange mix of comfort and vulnerability. The warmth of Hermione's body against hers was grounding, but the unspoken weight of their past hung in the air, a reminder of all the things that had been left unresolved. Especially the mark on her forearm.
Hermione stirred, her arm tightening ever so slightly around Mavis before she too began to wake. Mavis felt Hermione's breath change, growing more conscious, more present. Then, almost tentatively, Hermione's hand brushed softly against Mavis's side, as if testing the waters of this newfound closeness.
"Maeve..." Hermione's voice was groggy, still thick with sleep, but there was something tender in the way she said her name, like a whisper meant just for her.
Mavis didn't reply right away. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to hold onto the feeling of being there, in that moment, before anything else could intrude.
"Morning," she finally whispered, her voice soft and tentative.
There was a pause, and Mavis could almost hear the thoughts swirling in Hermione's mind - the uncertainty, the questions. But instead of words, Hermione moved closer, her forehead pressing gently against Mavis' neck, as if seeking comfort in the quiet touch.
For a few minutes, they laid there in silence, neither of them daring to move too much, afraid of breaking whatever fragile truce the night had brought. There were things that needed to be said, Mavis knew that, but for now, in this quiet, sunlit moment, they just held each other. Eventually, Hermione spoke again, her voice softer now, more awake but still hesitant.
