That is the answer Dorian gets in return; Hermione gets none. Gilgamesh just glances over his shoulder at them both, the warmth fading from the field as well as from himself. The moment passes, and they are themselves again. Hermione shuns him again. Dorian will, too, or else he might've. Hermione's brush-off grates a little too much for his liking, and he takes his revenge swiftly and coldly, openly and defiantly.
"Come back to my room in a bit, then."
No private dates. No tea and toast. No time away from him, not today. No more practice and no more delays. Gilgamesh tugs insistently on the bond, exploits that residual longing clinging to the corners of his mind. Hermione cannot touch this. Hermione will never touch this. He won't let her.
"I miss you."
But he says it, longingly, as he looks at the silly little girl who scorns him.
no subject
That is the answer Dorian gets in return; Hermione gets none. Gilgamesh just glances over his shoulder at them both, the warmth fading from the field as well as from himself. The moment passes, and they are themselves again. Hermione shuns him again. Dorian will, too, or else he might've. Hermione's brush-off grates a little too much for his liking, and he takes his revenge swiftly and coldly, openly and defiantly.
"Come back to my room in a bit, then."
No private dates. No tea and toast. No time away from him, not today. No more practice and no more delays. Gilgamesh tugs insistently on the bond, exploits that residual longing clinging to the corners of his mind. Hermione cannot touch this. Hermione will never touch this. He won't let her.
"I miss you."
But he says it, longingly, as he looks at the silly little girl who scorns him.