The two of them have been trapped in each other's orbits for years. It's a neverending cycle of pushing and pulling with a bleeding-edge as the rest of the world waits to watch them burn. Amisty is the scratch of quill against parchment, dried herbs tied with twine, dirty fingernails, and stardust gleams in her blood. She's spent so much of her life fighting, running, bleeding. . . Draco is the clink of potion bottles, polished silver, crisp emerald ties with snake-head pins, and a soured reputation looming over his head. He's spent so much of his life hiding, whispering, waiting. . . They find each other. The world waits. - This has been cross-posted on Quotev under sunnystories17 -