westwhere | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

WHO: Hermione Granger & her magical pack of pixies (aka you)
WHEN: During Silent Night
WHERE: the Inn & surroundings
WHAT: can i interest you in some slice of life in these trying times? catch-all and open to all who want some cute form of interaction (warning: i may bite you in the feels) with Hermione before the new arc starts; bring on the magical weeds too
WARNINGS: will add if necessary

[ooc: please feel free to to either PM me or reach me on plurk/discord if you want a separate starter, or throw your own in here. get in losers, we're doing shenanigans.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Damn him for being so calm about it, too. He reminds her, in a very broad sense of the word, of Viktor. The blunt, direct mannerisms, the flagrant rejection of British prudishness.

Except that Wrathion is not British, and probably has no idea what that means.

(And yes also the athletic figure. She's looked.)

Regardless. "I must be dull by comparison."

Dull? Why? His brow furrows, as if confused by this statement.

"Not at all," he assures her. "I have told you before I consider you an exceptional individual."

Did she think he was lying, perhaps? He was not. It was simply the truth.

She rolls her eyes at that. An exceptional individual - exceptionally smart, or exceptionally annoying, or maybe if generous exceptionally talented with magic.

It's absolutely foolish, to be sharing a hot spring with Wrathion and suddenly feel overwhelmed by the need to be thought of as beautiful, for once. Not exceptional. Not cor, Hermione, you're a girl. Not even decently pretty. It's foolish, and petty, and maybe if she hadn't seen Wrathion's entire chest she might have felt less self-conscious about how awfully gangly she is. Small, but gangly.

"Right, right - and I appreciate that, but there's...look, you're just awfully fit and it's very difficult to not be looking," she defends herself, weakly.

Her eyeroll says she has not accepted the compliment.

He moves closer, head tilted curiously. Since she has chosen to be in the shallows, this does mean he is in danger of the water level no longer covering his lower half if this continues.

"I have no objection to you looking," he points out. She can look. He enjoys being admired. There's no difficulty there.

It's another example of their morals not aligning. He probably does not see anything bad in Hermione oggling him, but she does. It feels like a betrayal of trust - just not Wrathion's, right now, since he consents to being admired.

"You -" she starts to protest, raising her eyes towards the sky with a sigh. "You may not object but aren't you with Anduin?"

Anduin?

Wrathion studies her a moment, thoughtful, then begins to slowly move closer. This is briefly dangerous, until he lowers himself to sit in the water near her -- blessedly keeping himself submerged. It also allows him an opportunity to casually skim the area, checking the two of them are still alone. This is now a private conversation, after all. Conversations about his personal situation should not be had in public. Other people's personal situation's are less of a concern.

"We have an understanding," he allows. Which is a nice way of saying yes, they spend time together, but they have not really put a name to it. In truth, they have barely discussed it -- talked around it more than about it.

The danger itself approaches like a shark in the water, complete with a menacing soundtrack. The ringing in her ears returns and she sits still and does very much not even glance in a downward direction.

Until he sits down near her, and the danger is gone, she doesn't release her breath. Then she does, and he chooses to finally answer her question in the most inane way possible.

"What does that even bloody mean?" she blurts out, albeit in more of an outraged whisper.

He wasn't... quite expecting that protest. Was he not clear?

"It means we understand each other," he says, "and our own limitations."

Some of them Wrathion's, to be sure, some of them Anduin's. His role limits him, and Wrathion's role is... nebulous, complicated. Neither of them are without constraints, both of them are without experience. They're still working things out.

She might be gaping like a fish out of water, while her brain attempts to understand what the hell he's saying.

It's still pretty vague. Last she talked to him, he and Anduin were definitely having a fight, even if Wrathion seemed unaware of of why.

Flustered, she turns her head to look at him, lips pressed together in confusion.

"What limitations, Wrathion? Are you two not together?"

Is it not possible to be together with someone while also understanding limitations?!

Wrathion hesitates, uneasy, and flicks his eyes away over the water.

"He spends his time with me, but there is nothing... official. Once we leave, he cannot promise his time to me."

Stormwind tolerates him as an advisor, but he sincerely doubts they'd accept him as anything more.

"Oh," she says. And then, "Hm." Because Anduin is king, isn't he? He has the weight of a kingdom on his shoulders back wherever his home is, and that is...

Well, she knows a thing or two about chosen ones who give up their shot at happiness for the good of the realm.

"It's strange, I've been... thinking about it. The return. I've missed my shot at several beacons now, when it arose," she admits. "You'd think I enjoy the constant panic, lack of sleep and suffering if it means exploring a world unknown..."

She looks at him again. It's a change of subject, but it isn't. Wrathion has mentioned once before that he doesn't think they will remember anything of this world when they are returned to their homes.

"Or maybe I'm just...not enough in a hurry to return and forget some of the people I've met here." A pause. "And dragon."

Ah.

A sweet enough sentiment, but one Wrathion cannot entirely match. He does not want to remain here. Even if he would sorely miss Hermione, even there's the chance Anduin will forget everything between them -- well. He can only hope they might start anew. That his capacity to forgive would mean they had a second chance at it all.

But he does not want to remain here, if he can help it.

He tilts his head, pretending to assess her.

"It has been, of course, a privilege for you to know me."

Making jokes is an excellent way to get out of talking about things properly.

Boys. They never want to talk about their feelings, even when they're a dragon ten times her actual size.

"I'll splash you with hot water, don't think I wouldn't," she says, dryly. "You're almost as infuriating as you are handsome."

"You are aware the hot water will do me no harm."

So, splash away. It won't bother him. Now, cold water would be a threat.

She raises one hand, and flicks water at him. "I'm aware," she says, continuing the tradition of dry tone.

She can't even whack his forehead with a rolled up copy of the Daily Prophet, so this feels very unsatisfying.

But the reminder that heat matters little due to his draconic nature, she forgets all about that train of thought that she was going to pursue earlier of if you're already with someone, I can't like you like you, so that's why it's a problem you're naked.

Instead, she thinks about that time he was a dragon. Let ger ride on his back and all.

"Does this mean you're immune to heat? Fire magic, volcanoes, so on?"

"My ancestral home is inside a volcano."

Blackwing descent has lava pouring down inside of it. The heat does not bother black dragons, or else it would be a very poor choice indeed to set up a base there.

Not that they're known for exclusively making good choices, but still.

"That's..." Terrifying? Overwhelming hot? Literally overwhelmingly hot? "Neat."

She stares at the water for a moment, wondering what's wrong with her.

"So does this just feel tepid to you?"

"Hotter would be pleasant, but this visage is human."

Thus, the skin is more delicate than scales. It can be damaged, and it can probably burn. He's not really tested scalding water, as he's had no reason to, but given he knows the skin is more sensitive in general it stands to reason it would react poorly to direct contact with extreme heat.

She pulls a face. "Ew, yes, let's not experiment with boiling your skin off."

On a brighter note, she's no longer stressed out about his nipples being right there.

"I'd rather it stay on," he agrees.

Wrathion shifts a moment, then turns -- one arm resting along the side of the hot springs as he faces her better.

"You prefer it here?"

She implied she was in no hurry to leave, to forget people here. Does home not appeal? Is her situation here somehow better?

She lets out a choked little laugh there. "No, it's objectively quite terrible," she admits. She knows how she sounds, honestly. Being sad about the idea of leaving, while staying is not painting a better picture. Staying has come with endless challenges, but throughout the time spent here she would be lying if she said she hasn't gotten better at magic, and other skills.

(Probably still can't poker face to save her life.)

"But..." she starts, then pauses. Lets out a sigh, shifting in her seat to turn and somewhat face him too, because - oh, being uppity about people making proper use of a hot spring is just too much, and she's broken so many rules and laws here at this point that she could stand to chill out! - it's also nicer to manage to talk about this with someone. "The idea of forgetting bothers me, I guess. Of all I've done and learned here being not only forgotten but becoming insignificant when I go back... It will be as if this Hermione has never existed - and I...quite like how resilient this Hermione is, so." A shrug here. "It'll be a shame."

And after a beat, she manages a wry smile. "Obviously it will have been an honour for me to have met you."

He considers that a long moment, flicking a faint smile in response to hers.

Forgetting is, of course, bothersome. It is, in a way, rendering things insignificant -- they will no longer be significant to them if they cannot remember, although in his heart the events have value regardless. They simply wouldn't impact his future decisions, unless in some fashion the memories did return later.

Still, one thing here is important:

"If you are resilient now," he says, "it is because you are capable of resilience, you always were and you will be capable again."

That isn't some quality unique to their location, it is a quality in Hermione herself.

She presses her lips together for a moment, swallowing back a remark in the light of I wasn't looking for validation for once, because it would probably be - at its root - a lie.

"I know that," she does say, with a brief wave of dismissal. "Anyway, the point is - I feel conflicted because this can't exactly be called temporary. We've been travelling together for ages now, long enough for me to learn details about people, about their worlds, long enough to know I'd miss them.

"So I can't throw myself at an open beacon without any hesitation, is that I am saying. I would hesitate, as much as I want to return home and resume my life there too."

He lets out a low hum of thought, eyes skimming away out over the water.

"I suspect you and Anduin have that in common."

Anduin would hesitate too, he knows, to leave this place. To leave the escape it offers him. A funny thing, to feel you are escaping the grand comforts of a castle, but Anduin of course has pressures too. Expectations. As easy as it may be to envy his strong group of followers, his throngs of staff and the prestige of his role the crown is not always a comfortable thing to wear.

She lets out a soft laugh at that. "I suspect we have a lot more in common than just that."

It's one way to change the subject, away from the discomfort of their eventual separation. No matter how many friends she makes here, no matter even if she grows more than fond of someone, at the end of it all - if she survives it all - she will return to her life, in Hogwarts after the final battle against Voldemort, and carry on without knowledge of any of this.

It's depressing. Better to distract from it.

So here she adds, "Except for the part where he's royalty and I'm the daughter of dentists." She voices one thought that has been with her since Serthica, a little out of the blue: "You know they would've really applauded your dental hygiene. Especially in your dragon form - sharp white teeth. Impressive."