#dhr drabble

[ivmaruva]

Day 79

A quick sketch that inspired the sweetest twitter drabble from the talented @caitybellfics. Highly recommend giving it a read.

#100daysofdramione #dramione #draco malfoy #fanart #digital fanart #hermione granger #hermione x draco #dhr fanart #sketch #dhr art #fanfiction #my art #dramione fanfic #dhr fandom #dhr drabble #drabble

[pixydustworld]

The clock above the fireplace read 11:35pm. 25 minutes until midnight. They had exactly 25 minutes to consummate their marriage.

Hermione wondered how the ministry would know if her shiny new husband didn't come inside her.

She drank more champagne.

“It doesn't have to be painful.” Malfoy said, staring above her head at the wall, seeming eager to over analyze the wallpaper, “There are ways for it to be.” He took a deep breath. “Enjoyable.”

“I’ve had sex before.” Hermione said.

“You have?” His voice was a touch surprised.

Hermione narrowed her eyes.

“Loads of times.” Hermione scoffed (three times, to be specific, and it had been almost a year since the last time) “I’m an expert.”

Malfoy had the audacity to look relieved. “Good.” He said, “I’m glad you’ve had pleasurable experiences. When — when, we, consummate — ”

“Fuck.” Hermione said at the same time as him.

“— fuck,” Malfoy practically hissed, “Just. Just think of them.”

Hermione nodded. “Right.” She said, “Sure.” He was staring at her. Waiting for something; her permission, perhaps. “You can think about other people, too.”

The first time she’d had sex, Harry had been soft, if not a little too gentle. In the tent, surrounded by darkness and the ever present promise of death, their fumbling hands had met. It hadn’t been painful, but it hadn’t been overly pleasant, either. It just had been them.

The second time she’d had sex, Ron had been eager to please her, but it had felt off. Like a sneeze that wouldn’t come, like an itch just below her reach — overall, it had been unremarkable and unfortunately for her and Ron’s budding romance, a little unsettling.

The third, and subsequently final time, Hermione had decided that she needed to stop having sex with immediate members of her very small friend group, and Seamus Finnigan had been happy to oblige her.

In the middle, he’d gotten a leg cramp and accidentally headbutted her.

She’d gotten a bloody nose, and Seamus still wasn’t able to make eye contact with her without cringing.

Then, the marriage law had been announced, and Hermione had been too swept up in writing motions and testifying in court to worry about the elusiveness of her own sex life.

“Did you ever think you’d get married?” Hermione asked to rupture the silence that had stretched on for a bit too long. It seemed like a fitting question to ask, given their predicament. “I was never sure.”

Malfoy smiled and Hermione felt her stomach twist. This would all be much easier if he wasn't so handsome. “It was never my choice.” He said, “I always knew I’d marry someone my father chose for me. Perhaps that’s why I accepted all this — the lack of choice, that is something I’m familiar with.”

“You, however, fought to the bitter end.” He continued, “very valiantly, I might add. As is your nature.”

“It didn't work.” Hermione said softly. Admitting defeat to Draco Malfoy never seemed possible before — but now? It felt almost inescapable, the partnership that was materializing between them. Like the golden thread of fate was tightening around their wrists.

“You’ll figure out a way to make them suffer.”

“Not my nature,” Hermione said, finishing her glass of champagne, “That’s yours.”

The clock read 11:40pm. It seemed they could no longer avoid fate.

“If we don’t consummate,” Malfoy was saying, voice sounding far away, “And the punishment is a fine, I can pay it. I won’t pretend I’m not above bribery, either. I — we — have a lot of money. Perhaps we could buy the Minister an island? Do you think he’d like that?”

“Harry said the punishment was prison time.”

“Hm.”

Hermione stood from her chair by the fire and smoothed the nightgown over her legs, fingers trembling slightly. “Thank you,” She said, “For offering to pay a fine for me. And for hypothetically bribing the minister of magic with an island. But I think — I think this is just unavoidable. We’ll be okay.”

He smiled again, soft like the fuzzy clouds at sunrise. Hermione had never really noticed how his smile changed his entire face. “Yes,” he said, watching as she moved across the room, “We’ll be just fine.”

She lay down on the bed, closer to him now then she had been in years. The last time they’d touched had been when he’d clutched her shoulders the day of the trials, fingers tight around her flesh. When he’d apologized to her in that dimly lit hallway, tears tracking down his cheeks, uncaring of who saw.

Hermione found dwelling on the past did no one any good, but for once, she was glad he’d done so; if only for the growth that accompanied him with the passage of time.

Glad, that if this was going to happen, she would face the future with this version of Draco Malfoy.

Malfoy shifted, looming above her, his fingers finding the strap of her nightgown, twisting the fabrics softly before firmly pressing his hands on either side of her body. The mattress refused to creak, the only sound in the room their soft breaths.

“On or off?”

He waited politely for her answer, but his hands betrayed his tension, clutching almost angrily at the sheets, in danger of ripping them. Rich people, Hermione thought, could afford to rip their sheets. They could simply buy new ones.

“On.” Hermione said in a thick voice.

“On.” Malfoy agreed. “I’m going to touch you now.”

“Yes.” Hermione wished she was someone brighter, someone like Ginny or even Lavender. If they’d been assigned Malfoy, the room wouldn’t feel so thick and heavy. They’d be able to smile — they wouldn’t be frozen beneath him, skin as rigid as the bones underneath. “Alright.”

“You’re so much smaller up close.” Malfoy murmured, surprising both of them. “From afar, it’s easy to convince myself you’re a titan, towering above us mortals. But here, I think it’s undeniable.”

“I was taller when we were kids.” Was the response Hermione decided to give him. “Do you remember? I used to be taller than Harry.”

“I remember.” His thumb was rubbing circles against the top of her thigh. Just touching the skin, nothing scandalous, but Hermione felt a bit like a puritan seeing ankles for the first time.

“Do you think our child will be tall?” She asked, “Like you are?”

His touch faltered for a bit, a crack appearing in his perfect facade. For a moment, his eyes were bright, hungry. Then, he resumed his lazy touch, fingers slowly tracing down her legs, beneath her nightgown.

“I hope they inherit all your goodness.” Malfoy said roughly, “And they inherit all my height.”

Hermione had never thought about being a mother, never considered that a possibility — she certainly had never expected to become a parent with Draco Malfoy. But a life with Harry had inadvertently prepared Hermione to adapt to her environment, like those frogs that change genders.

“I’ll need to stretch you a bit.” Malfoy was saying, sliding down her body. Hermione wondered when she should start calling him Draco. Surely, soon, with the home he'd seemed to have made for himself between her thighs. “Please, just try to relax.”

“Right.”

His hot breath on her center was the only warning Hermione received before he was licking her, tongue twisting its way inside her cunt, thumb lazily rubbing her clit. She was wet, not an embarrassing amount, but not enough for him to grunt his approval, the vibration sending a shudder skittering up her spine.

“Oh,” she gasped, hips squirming against his hold, “Wha — what are you doing?”

“Shh,” he hushed her, words mumbled against her cunt, “It’s rude to interrupt.”

Then, he closed his lips around her clit and sucked, his sloppy noises filling the room. Distantly, Hermione heard someone babbling, broken cries and unfinished sentences — it took a moment to realize that voice was her own. Heat, like fire, like a dragon, spread across her body.

He was pressing her to his face, fingers digging into her flesh; each time she withered away from his tongue, his lips, even his teeth, his grip tightened, an arm pressed against the flesh of her stomach.

Finally, finally, finally, she felt one his fingers slip across her folds, sliding through the wetness. Malfoy’s fingers were so much thicker than her own, entering her with a bluntness she wasn’t accustomed to, twisting her open. Fucking her slowly, with no clear intention of quickening his pace.

“After the war,” Malfoy said, licking up her cunt with leisure, “When we were at school, I wanted to be near you every second. It was like waking up and realizing I could actually see the sun.”

She remembered, even now, through her trembling limbs, how he’d looked at her during their 8th year. It hadn’t been a predator's gaze, but one of blatant observation. Like he was truly seeing her for the first time; finally allowing himself to look.

“What a gift it is.” He murmured against her, a second finger sliding to join the first, a pleasant burn beginning to overtake Hermione, bubbling over the surface, spreading across her flesh, “The privilege to bask in your warmth.”

He devoured her until she came with a wail, on an exhale, head tossed back. Hermione twisted and twisted and twisted away, but his hold was firm. It hadn’t been like that with the others, rarely, it had even been like that with herself.

“Will that be enough?” She sniffed.

He pulled his cock out for her to see.

“Three fingers, then.” Hermione said, voice unsteady.

It was 11:53pm by the time he’d stretched her to his liking.

“Hermione.”

Hermione jerked at the use of her first name. “Yes?” She hiccuped.

He squinted up at her, hair falling over his eyes. He really looked like a stupid fairytale prince, even now, with his face glistening, wet with her, it was completely unfair. “Think of someone else. It’ll help this part.”

To her credit, Hermione tried to follow his directions.

Visions of Harry’s eyes morphed into gray, Ron’s arms around her torso tightened, the way she imagined he would clutch her to his chest — Seamus’s moans grew deeper, like his voice.

It seemed all roads led back to Draco Malfoy, and Hermione was too tired to contemplate the importance of that realization.

Earlier, he’d called her valiant. Brave. Said it was part of her nature, woven into her bones. If she had nothing left, she’d still have her bravery. Perhaps, it was time to use the courage everyone insisted she possessed.

“I’m not thinking of anyone else.”

Malfoy looked like someone had shot him. “What?”

“I’m not thinking of anyone else.” Hermione repeated loudly. Maybe he had a minor head cold and was having difficulty hearing her, “I’m thinking about you.”

“But I told you to think of the others.”

Hermione rolled her eyes.

“I’m not a dog.” Hermione scoffed. “I don’t blindly follow your orders.”

She ignored the way he smiled at her.

She felt him then, between her legs. Warm and heavy, a weight on her thigh, a promise for what was to come. “I’m,” Malfoy looked upset, angrier than before with the sheets, “I’m sorry that this happened. That it’s me.”

“I’m not.” The orgasms had loosened her limbs, a crack across a frozen pond; speaking to him seemed easier now, less world shattering. “I’m glad it’s you. I’ve fucked both my friends, it’s only natural that I’d carry on to my enemies next.”

“You think I'm your enemy?”

“No,” She sighed, “I think you’re my husband.”

“Say that again.”

“Husband.” She repeated. “You are my husband.”

“And you are my wife.”

Earlier cowardice forgotten, Hermione smiled up at him, all teeth. Malfoy blinked, like someone had turned on the lights. “ I’ve thought about you fucking me before.” She said softly, “Have you thought about me?”

Malfoy groaned, like he was in pain. “Constantly,” he said. “An agonizing amount. It’s time for me to fuck a baby into you. I’ll fill you up, alright? Will you let me?”

Hermione managed a confident nod.

The feel of all of him, tossed her head back.

Unfair, completely unfair, that this experience belonged to him, when already so many parts of her were his, too. His ownership over her mind had been a subtle acquisition, but this new feeling, the one burning through her, seemed to happen all at once.

“Such a good girl,” Malfoy grunted, “allowing me between your thighs.”

Then, he began to move, and the entire world seemed to tilt off axis.

Everything seemed to melt away, all that remained was Draco, the drag of his cock inside her.

She weakly clutched his arm when his fingers slid to her clit again, rubbing slow, agonizing circles. He smiled at the tears that stuck to her eyelashes, and it was a little mean.

“I won’t last,” he managed to say, “come on my cock, that’s a good girl, let me feel it.”

She felt when he came inside of her, heat spreading across her stomach. Winced slightly, when he kept fucking her, soft thrusts, fucking his cum deeper inside her.

“Have to make it stick.” He slurred.

“We can try again.” Hermione sighed, finally allowing her fingers to drag through his hair. Soft, softer than she thought it’d be — felt him twitch inside of her when she spoke. Wondered if her voice alone had the power to bring him to his knees.

“Has no one ever made you come before?” He hummed, “Does that job only belong to your husband?”

“You’ve never had a job in your life.”

She felt his smile against her skin. “Then I’ll need lots of practice.”

#dhr #dhr smut #dhr drabble #dhrtwt #dhr fanfiction #dhr fanfic #dhr ficlet #dhr fic #dramione #dramione fic #dramione fanfic #dramione drabble #dramione ficlet #dramione smut #hermione granger x draco #hermione granger x draco malfoy #draco x hermione #draco malfoy x hermione granger #hermione granger #draco malfoy #hermione x draco #draco malfoy and hermione granger #harry potter #ron weasley #seamus finnigan #marriage law #pwp #pwp fics #smut #harry potter smut

[ellieauthor]

"I hear she got another one this morning," Blaise says, voice projected loudly enough for the whole Great Hall to hear.

It is now common knowledge that Hermione Granger has been receiving daily flowers for the entire month leading up to Valentine's day, and the whole school is dying to know who they're from.

"Weasley," is Pansy's guess.

"Too easy," Theo argues. "I bet it's Potter. Or that Macguire tosser. McDonald? Mc something."

"McLaggen," is Draco's surly response.

But Blaise has another theory.

"Draco, don't you know quite a bit about flowers?"

He does. They know he does.

They all do; it's a foundational topic of early pureblood education. And with a mother like Narcissa, Draco is even better informed than most.

"Draco," Pansy gasps. "You're blushing!"

And that's all it takes for the rumors to start.

Blaise sits back, smile smug and proud, watching it all happen 

He knows the minute the theory reaches Granger.

They're sitting in potions, a class all eighth years share together. Lavender Brown whispers something to Hermione that has her looking toward the area of the classroom unofficially reserved for the Slytherins.

Her eyes linger on his friend a little longer than necessary. And over the next few days, her behavior becomes less combative.

Draco, for his part, panics.

"It's not me, Zabini!"

"Of course it's not," Blaise says, rolling his eyes. "It lacks any subtlety, and from what I've heard the arrangements.themselves are measley and plebian. Borderline pathetic."

"So then why--"

"It doesn't matter as long as she thinks it's you." Blaise works hard not to roll his eyes, but come on. For all his potions skill, the boy could be thick.

"But how does that--"

"You can figure the rest out for yourself, mate." Blaise pats Draco on the shoulder before leaving his befuddled friend to his own devices. He only has the capacity for so much charity.

Not that he's doing this entirely selflessly.

The pair have been circling each other like idiots for weeks, and he's bored of it.

This, though? He finds far less boring.

To Draco's credit, he takes over just fine from there. He begins to pay the witch more blatant attention, meets her at night in the library.

She says yes when he asks her to dinner on the fourteenth, and Blaise knows it's only a matter of time before they become official.

The morning after the date, Draco floats into the Slytherin common, looking sleepy but satisfied.

"Can't thank you enough," he says, grinning like an absolute madman.

"It was nothing," Blaise says, and he means it.

Draco struts away with a confidence Blaise hasn't seen since their fourth year. He's almost to the top of the stairs when he stops, like he's suddenly remembered something. "Where'd you get the flowers from, anyways?"

At that, Blaise's usual smirk shifts to a diabolical smile.

"I didn't. I just started the rumors."

Draco looks perplexed. "But then who--"

"Someone having a much worse Valentine's day than you, I'd bet."

Elsewhere in the castle, a drunk and inconsolably angry redhead shoves his last bouquet of roses into a burning fireplace, muttering something about a "stupid bloody ferret."

#dhr #dhr drabble #dramione drabble #dramione ficlet #dramione #draco malfoy #hermione granger #draco x hermione #blaise zabini #ellieauthor

[gloivy]

Dramione | 8th year | A Kiss for Good Luck

“Are you lost, Malfoy? Slytherins start on that side of the pitch.”

Hermione tensed, pausing in the middle of wishing the seventh and eighth year Gryffindors luck before their final match against Slytherin.

“I’m here to see Granger.”

She turned, meeting his stormy gaze.

He’d always looked good in his quidditch uniform, but he’d truly grown into it now. His broad shoulders and strong arms bulging through the material. Then there was his thighs—she could talk for hours about his thighs.

But she’d been staring for too long without a response.

She nodded and made to approach him, but was stopped by a hand on her arm. Ginny. Her friend gave her a look that was equal parts intrigue and ‘are you fucking insane?’.

“It’s fine, Ginny. It’s just Malfoy,” she whispered and Ginny’s grip loosened with a quizzical look.

Hermione felt the gaze of the entire Gryffindor quidditch team on her as she came to a halt before Malfoy.

“What?” she snapped.

He had the gall to look pleased with himself. “Aren’t you going to give me a good luck kiss?”

She hated him. She truly despised him.

Months earlier, on the morning of the Slytherin vs. Hufflepuff match, Hermione had wished Malfoy good luck. It was in the name of inter-house unity, and as Head Girl, she had to lead the way.

She’d raised to kiss him on the cheek, but of course, with Malfoy being the bastard that he is, he turned his face at the last moment.

Their lips met and time seemed to stop for a moment. That was, until she shoved him away with a slap across his cheek.

Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately (the jury was still out), everyone else had only witnessed Hermione slapping Malfoy across the face rather than the quick peck she’d given him.

Later, on the morning of the Slytherin vs. Ravenclaw match, she’d resigned to avoiding Malfoy.

He would not get another good luck wish from her, not after the last one. McGonagall had been quite displeased when she heard that her Head Girl had slapped their resident Death Eater in the halls.

Hermione could not risk a repeat event at the cost of her title as Head Girl.

She waited until the last minute to leave, sure that Malfoy would already be on the pitch warming up. As she rounded the stairs from her dorm into the empty eighth-year common room, however, she was jumped.

Malfoy’s lips were on hers before she could process what was happening.

He’d pressed her against the stone wall and she was surprised to find that rather than pushing him away, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. A small moan escaped his lips, and when his thigh pushed between her legs, a similar noise left hers.

A moment later, he pulled away and left her sagged against the wall. He smirked down at her. “Thanks for the good luck, Granger.”

Slytherin had won both matches, with Malfoy catching the snitch in record time.

And now, he stood before her, waiting for her to make the decision.

To give him a good luck kiss before the Slytherin vs. Gryffindor match, or not. Everything within her was screaming ‘no, are you mad?!’ but the challenge in Malfoy’s eyes was almost too tempting to ignore.

“I can’t give you luck against my own house, Malfoy.”

He grinned.

“That won’t look very good for inter-house unity, will it? The great Hermione Granger won’t even wish me luck?” His voice was loud and it carried across the pitch to where McGonagall stood looking very cross.

“I hate you.”

“It’s mutual.”

“The kiss means nothing.”

“I know.”

“Fine.”

She grabbed his face roughly and pulled him to her. She heard his broom drop to the ground as his hands landed on her hips.

And then, their lips met. Sparks flew and she realised that she was lying—the kiss didn’t mean nothing.

If it was possible for a kiss to mean everything, then this kiss would be the case study.

It wasn’t just luck—it was redemption, too. And perhaps just a sprinkle of curiosity and apology.

There was something about Draco Malfoy, and she was going to get to the bottom of it.

When she pulled away to the shocked gasps of their on-lookers, Malfoy gave her a wink before bending down to retrieve his broom.

“Good luck, Malfoy.”

He looked up, perhaps slightly shocked at her words before he composed himself.

He nodded over her shoulder, towards the outraged cries of her friends. “Good luck to you, too.”

Grinning to himself, he turned back towards his teammates.

Slytherin won the match, and Hermione began to believe that perhaps her lips did hold some luck in them, after all.

#this one is old but it’s still one of my favs hehe #dramione #draco x hermione #hermione x draco #draco malfoy #hermione granger #dhr #drabble #dhr drabble #dramione drabble

[princessma1foy]

“You know, Granger, I’m quite good at Potions.” Draco glared at her, annoyed.

She was scowling down at the textbook and muttering under her breath. He tried again. “Look, we got it right, I’m sure of it -“

“No, Malfoy! Amortentia is supposed to smell different to each person according to what attracts them, and all I smell is your stupid cologne - why you use so much is beyond me.” She huffed and rolled her eyes before returning to the textbook.

Draco stared at her, bemused. “That’s strange. It smells just like how it always has for me, I wonder why -“

“Oh ho!” Professor Slughorn had walked up behind them. “Excellent as always, Miss Granger, Mr Malfoy. Never seen a student produce finer!” He beamed down at them.

Hermione’s jaw fell to the ground. “Wh-what? We got it correct? But we can’t have, it doesn’t smell like this to me…”

“People change, Miss Granger, as does what attracts them, hence why the potion may smell different to you now. Like I said, it’s a spectacular brew, practically perfect. Full marks to both of you for today!”

With that, Slughorn wandered away, leaving Draco staring with wide eyes at a stunned, blushing Hermione Granger as the intoxicating scent of her perfume wafted up his nose from the Amortentia bubbling happily between them.

#dhr drabble #ao3 writer #fanfic writer #fanfiction writer #writers on tumblr #dramione #dramione fandom #dramione microfic #hp microfic #dramione fanfic #microficmay2023 #dramione fluff #dramione fic #dramione ff #drabble #hehe they’re so cute #i’m writing more of this later

[lolovestoread]

Dramione Drabble

Originally posted on twt

Auror Draco/Healer Dramione

“I don’t like you right now” Hermione mutters as she continues to wrap the injured auror’s shoulder in bandages.

She knew he was hiding something when he left this morning. She should have known it was the danger of the mission he was being sent on.

“Come on, love” he tried again to grab her hands but she shook them off.

“Look Draco,” she started and he knew he was in trouble because after 10 years together the sound of his given name felt foreign to his ears. “I’m not asking for the moon here. I just need to know you’re safe!”

He sighs. She’s right. Of course she is and she knows it. “Ok love, I’ll keep you informed. It wasn’t supposed to be anything dangerous today but we got a hit on the Lestrange case and we had to act fast. I couldn’t get word to you before we all left the office this morning.”

The logical part of her brain knew that. The emotional part of her brain just wanted to make sure her fiancé was safe. “Alright.” She sighed finishing up the bandages.

He pulls her into his arms and breathes in the smell of her shampoo. Relishing in the scent of home. As she melts into his arms. The stress of the day finally leaving her shoulders.

“I’m still going to complain to Harry.” She mutters into his chest.

“You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t.” He chuckles. Letting her go so he can grab her hand as they both make their way out of St. Mungos.

“I love you, you know?” She says looking up at him.

“You’d better.” He replies with a smirk. “Or else the wedding next month is going to be really awkward.”

They both laugh as they make their way home. Together. Safe. Exactly how it should be.

#dramione #fanfic #hermione granger #draco malfoy #dhrtwt #dhr drabble #auror draco #healer hermione

[extremewritersblock]

A drabble in which Hermione has to babysit a drunk Draco

“I like you, Granger.”

“You’re drunk, Malfoy.”

“Am not,” he said. He had his head propped up on one hand, using the other to finish off the remnants of his - 9th - drink. 

After he’d double and triple checked that the inside of his mug held no more alcohol, he discarded it on the bar top - it clattered with a *thud *- and moved on to his next drunken thought. 

“Why do people say they don’t like your hair?” *hiccup*

“I wasn’t aware that my hair was a popular topic amongst your friends, but thanks for letting me know.” She self consciously pulled at a stray piece resting on the nape of her neck.

“Well, they’re wrong, I like your hair.” *hiccup*

Before Hermione could - thank him? - Malfoy was out of his seat and stumbling confidently towards a couple of girls a few chairs down. 

“Hey, ‘scuse me. Hi, my names Draco. Don’t you like her hair? It has just the right amount of curly, don’t you think?” He was gesturing to Hermione theatrically, like she was the grand prize at the end of a game show.

Hermione, unsure whether it was Malfoy or the girls who needed rescuing from the situation unfolding in front of her, raced up behind him, gripped either side of his shoulders and attempted to move him away.

“Excuse my friend, he’s sloshed,” she said to the girls, who were both doing their best to hide the fit of giggles brought on by Malfoy's... drunkenness.

“Actually I’m her boyfriend,” he said, then his voice changed to a whisper, “but she doesn’t know that yet” - *hiccup* - “so shhhhh.” He placed a finger to his lips to demonstrate how they should stay quiet.

“Malfoy, you are not my boyfriend.” She’d finally succeeded at steering him back to their spot at the bar. He stumbled back onto his barstool. “You have to stop telling people that, or they’ll start to think its true.”

She looked at him expectantly, waiting for an acknowledgement that he’d hear her. 

He was looking back at her, dreamily.

“Well?” she asked, trying to coax an agreement from him.

“I wanna kiss you,” he said, but it came out more like ‘iwanuhkishoe’.

Hermione sighed. 

He was reaching for his drink that he’d already finished off when -

“Draco that’s not your drink! That’s hand sanitizer, you absolute donut.”

“Oooh donuts. They sound delightful right now, don’t they?” he said, then became distracted by a bartender who was passing by them. She was holding a bottle of liquor topped with a sparkler, so tiny flames were dancing in the air. 

The table who had ordered the bottle broke out into a tipsy rendition of the “Happy Birthday” song. Draco happily clapped along.

When it stopped, he quickly turned to Hermione, his face suddenly distraught.

“You know what I just thought about?” he asked. He wore a slight pout.

“What’s that, Malfoy?” She was done trying to guess what nonsense would come out of his mouth next.

“Dragons”

Yup, she would’ve never guessed that.

“What about Dragons?”

“Well Dragons have birthdays, right?”

He posed a good question. Her analytical tendencies wanted to argue that, while yes, dragons are born and thus have birthdays, they don’t have the intelligence to celebrate their birthdays like humans do, so it could be a subjective question. However, to her very drunk acquaintance, she just said:

“Yes - I assume so...” 

“Well, dragons can’t - they’ll never be able to blow out their own birthday candles. How *hiccup* sad.”

She facepalmed.

“You know, it’s been a fun date,” he said 

“We’re not on a date. Your friends left you and I couldn’t, in good conscience, leave you by yourself in your.. current state.”

“Oh. Well d’you wanna go date me sometime?”

“Let’s discuss this when you sober up.”

“Wrong answer. Ten points from Gryffindor.”

“Well Malfoy, this has been a fun.. whatever this was.. but I think it’s time to get you home.”

After a few minutes of slurred protest, and one last swipe at the bottle of hand sanitizer, Draco let Hermione Apparate them back to his apartment.

They arrived with a very clumsy jolt. Somehow, both of them managed to stay on their feet.

“Ooh.. head rush,” Malfoy said. 

Luckily, he’d appeared right next to his bed, and decided to forgo the entirety of his night time routine and just fall into the blankets. 

Unluckily, he’d forgotten he was still attached to Hermione’s arm, and brought her right down with him. She fell with an, “OOOF.”

She let herself lie there for a few seconds, a little hopeful that Malfoy would just go to sleep so that she could escape to her own apartment, but when she finally decided to remove her arm from his, she felt his hand grasp hers.

“Please don’t go,” he said. His eyes, though open, drooped sleepily.

“You won’t sleep well if I stay with you.” She adjusted the blankets around him.

Why did a part of her actually want to stay? Did she expect him to remember any of this in the morning?

She told herself it was her own morality that made her consider accepting his request, and that she’d feel horrible if she left him alone while he was this intoxicated.

As if he was reading her mind -

“Please stay,” he said again, though his voice was growing quieter as sleep threatened to take him.

And so, she stayed.

#maybe I wrote this while drinking wine #maybe I didn't #you'll never know #muahahaha #also starting now the only acceptable nickname for Draco is 'absolute donut' #dhr drabble #dhr drabbles #hp #harry potter #draco x hermione #dramione #hermione x draco #Draco Malfoy #Hermione Granger #dramione drabbles #Draco Malfoy x Hermione granger #dramione prompts #fluffy draco #drunk draco

[draqo-pctter]

tan lines // a dramione drabble

Draco hated the sun. It made his cheeks red and itchy, and had a nasty habit of burning his shoulders. He also hated the ocean. A sticky film was always left on his skin after a dip in the water that no amount of showering could remove.

But, he loved Hermione. And Hermione loved Malta in the summer. And every summer, they took a weeklong vacation with the Zabinis and spent endless hours beside the pool or on the coast and Hermione wore the most eye-catching bikinis Muggle London could make.

words: 512

tags: established relationship, slightly nsfw

click here to read on ao3 / click here to read on twitter

#hp #dramione #dramione ff #dramione fanfic #dramione fanfiction #dramione drabble #drabble #dhr #dhr ff #dhr fanfic #dhr fanfiction #dhr drabble #dramione ao3 #archive of our own #ohthedrarry ao3 #hermione granger #draco malfoy #draco x hermione #hermione x draco #established relationship

[viridianphile]

7th yr., dramione, fluff, rivals, down bad Draco

Draco just wants to sleep in his quarters, skip his classes and dream and dream and dream.

He hates seeing his classmates, hates their mindless talk about who fancies who, and most of all hates having to see her in flesh.

As she shoots up a know-it-all hand, starts parting her plump lips to answer, her annoying voice reverberating around his skull, he might as well combust on the spot.

Especially if he has to deal with his problem. This particular problem, he figured, the only way to solve it is to sleep it all away.

Which he did, but to make matters worse, he sees her in his dreams, EVERY. SINGLE. FUCKING. TIME.

And things always end up the turn for the worse. Always the worse (for lack of better word). He gets to wake up with the lingering thought of her in his newly minted state of wakefulness and a raging hard-on.

It is a problem, yes indeed.

Which begs the question, why does Draco Lucius Malfoy want to sleep and sleep and sleep?

It is obvious really, he’s definitely infatuated with her, his subconscious unconsciously dreaming of her.

But quite literally, in vulgarized fashion; Draco Lucius Malfoy lusts for Hermione Jean Granger.

And he doesn’t want to admit it yet.

“Draco, fuck you, wake up,”

He groans in his sleep.

Theo slapped the supple cheek of his bare arse “Look at that fucking kinky arse! I bet you fell asleep touching yourself all day thinking of Granger. Is that why you didn’t go to class yesterday?”

Draco immediately springs up, head still groggy and confused. Theo mussed his already messy bed hair, “I understand mate, the snakes understand,” he tuts compassionately.

“Understand wha—?” Malfoy blinks, until everything dawned upon him.

“What the fuck are you doing here Not?!”

Theo raises his palms up defensively.

“Uh—your girl’s waiting for you, and I being your faithful wingman came to pick you up and tell her your undying love,” he then places a diplomatic hand over his heart solemnly.

“My girl? Which girl? What girl?” Draco aka “completely lost” Malfoy throws the dark haired boy a skeptical look,”Last time I checked I was single with an idiot henchman for a best friend”

“Merlin to Draco, it’s Granger, the love of your life? She literally confessed her love for you in front of the whole class under the influence of a veritaserum”

“You’ve got to be kidding”

“No. You missed the chance to witness the legendary confession of the swot to her equally swotty rival”

Malfoy must be dreaming, that couldn’t be real. Theo can’t be real, this must be another dream. Granger’s involved, *again*, so it has to be, right?

He was lost for words, staring into space. Until he slapped himself to reality.

*Holy shit that hurt*

“So then what?” excitement assaults his nerves but apprehension devoured the rest of it.

“Then fly away my little butterfly, spread your wings and chase for the nectar of your dreams! Go before she changes her mind!”Theo spreads his arms dramatically, he has the spunk for theater.

Draco hurriedly gathers himself to leave but reaches back towards his henchman, “Wait, fuck, give me your pants.”

Oh right, he forgot.

Draco swiftly accio’d Theo’s pants and quickly fastened himself to decency. Theo merely let him and pats a proud father’s hand on Draco.

“Go my little soldier, this is your war—“before Theo finishes, Draco already left the chambers to chase for Granger, his dearest rival and apparently…the love of his life?

***

“Granger!”

“Malfoy?”

Granger stops in her tracks while Draco collects himself until he’s back in proper circulation.

One huge gulp of air and he’s back on his knees, a look on Granger and he’s a pathetic flustering idiot. But backing down isn’t an option and so…

“You…you fractured me to my undoing. My soul cripples at the mere thought of you. You make me lose my mind, the greatest tragedy of mine. Granger…I think I might be also in love with you…”

Hermione blinked, eyes wide. What did she just hear? If this what they call…a confession?

But seriously, from Malfoy? Her rival? The bane of her existence? The annoying fly who pests her academic endeavors, everywhere she goes?

But a pretty handsome fly too though…

An unexpected blush creeps up to her cheeks, and wait a minute…what’s with this sudden burst of emotion? Why is he looking at her like he’s about to beg on his knees for her?

He’s absurd. His unnecessarily poetic monologue’s absurd…too sudden. And are those Theo’s dress pants he’s wearing?

“Malfoy…what…I…are you serious?”

This Hermione, the brightest witch of her age, suddenly lacked the sense to speak.

Draco stops, his heart taking a sudden lurch.

“But..Theo..”

Hermione’s pulse flutters.

“What about Theo, hmm?”

He just realized.

“I’m gonna kill that fucking bastard”

That jerk tricked him.

And surprisingly it worked.

(End)

#dhr drabble #dhr fanfiction #dramione #dramione prompts #dhrtwt #draco malfoy #draco x hermione #dramione fic #hermione granger #incorrect dramione #harrypotter #dramione fandom #dramione fanart #dramione one shot #draco fluff #dramione imagine

[whereivygrows]

dramione drabble | prompt: you're thinking about it

“Admit it, Hermione.”

“Don’t know what you’re on about, Gin.”

“You’ve thought about it. You’re thinking about it.”

“You couldn’t be more wrong.”

“I couldn’t be more right, you mean.”

That does it.

“I HAVE NEVER, NOT ONCE, THOUGHT ABOUT WHAT DRACO MALFOY LOOKS LIKE TOPLESS!”

Hermione’s voice is loud enough that she looks around, red-faced with alarm, before sighing with relief.

They’re at the end of an empty corridor. No one could’ve heard her little outburst.

Except the devil himself.

They turn the corner only to come face-to-face with Malfoy.

Malfoy who, to Hermione’s horror, wears an amused grin and is curiously a little pink at the cheeks, as well.

“I’m very sorry to hear that, Granger,” he says. “But if you ever change your mind, Slytherin’s got the pitch on Thursday evenings.”

With a wink and one last insufferable smirk, he walks away, leaving Hermione to deal with a hysterical Ginny and a racing heart.

fin.

haha test post *taps mic* is this thing on am i doing the tumblr thing right

word count: 157 words | read on twitter

#dramione #dramione drabble #dhr drabble #dhr #dramione ficlet #hermione granger #draco malfoy #draco x hermione #drabble #ficlet #where_ivy_grows #cross posted on twitter

[dhr-dump]

It was the thirtieth minute since the battle was won.

The sun was out, the clouds dissipated.

It was finally over.

Hermione looked over her friends—their tired eyes and weary smiles told her that they’re okay. That they wouldn’t look for her if she went away. Ron was in an embrace with his mother; Harry, with Ginny. Luna and Neville holding each other’s hand.

Then, she realized…

She didn’t have anyone to go to.

And as much as she wanted to be with her second family, she knew she had to find someone else.

She went out—out of the Great Hall and into the field clattered with boulders and damage, rubble and dust. The dark sizzle of magic disappeared like its master had. Ron and Harry’s distant calls were far from her mind.

Was he…?

He couldn’t be.

She went to the entrance where every casualty was set. Student, faculty, death eater, creature. Every single body that didn’t survive the battle. She thought she saw platinum strands.

But it wasn’t his.

If he wasn’t here, then he should be safe.

But Hermione just couldn’t help but look for him.

She needed to know that he’s safe.

And alive.

She went back to the castle, tried to ask some unsuspecting people.

“Malfoy? Why would you look for him?”

“I saw him with his parents.”

“They walked out of the battle. Probably to hide their cowardly arses where—”

She almost hexed the last one she asked, but only walked away, not wanting to hear what they would say next.

Her heart clenched. She needed to go. She needed to breathe. Anywhere, but inside the castle. Anywhere, but these suffocating walls. Anywhere, but the buzzing whispers and tense looks for her as she went looking for the person most of them didn’t want to see.

Without realizing it, her feet brought her in front of the lake.

Hermione heaved, her hand to her heart as she went closer to the only tree standing.

Her—no, their safe space.

And she almost felt her heart stop when she realized she wasn’t alone.

Platinum blond was the only thing in her mind, and she ran. Towards its owner—towards him. Like she hadn’t seen him in years. Like her soul wanted to latch onto its other half.

His grey eyes were liquid when he saw her, and he almost fell when she crashed into him.

He smelled like death, but who wasn’t when they were at war?

And it’s finally over.

Hermione lifted her eyes to face him. Her voice hoarse, breath hitched, chest clenched.

“I thought you were gone…” she whispered, hoping he’d hear her words.

And of course, he heard her.

“I came back, of course.” He lifted his hand to ease her tears. “I came back for you.”

Nothing ever compared to his fingers, even if they were cold to touch. His voice always did wonders to her heart—and it warmed her enough. He will always be her warmth.

“Did you really?” she asked, her ear settling at the beating inside his chest.

“I promised, didn’t I?” he said without a beat, fingers stroking her curls gently, lips settling at the crown of her head.

She wrapped her arms around his waist tighter.

A sigh of relief escaped her.

“Of course, you did.”

Draco Malfoy rarely did break his promises.

#dramione #draco malfoy #hermione granger #draco #draco x hermione #dhr #draco malfoy x hermione granger #hermione #dhr drabble #dhr prompt #dramione drabble #dramione prompts #war au #drabble

[thelashjedi]

Audition

“Malfoy, excuse me.”

“Fuck, Granger why are you squishing yourself into my seat? I understand that you might be hungry, but I’m sure you can wait for your own table.”

“What? No. I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend, Malfoy. Please. He stopped me out in Diagon and now he’s on his way here.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed. “McClaggen?” 

She nodded, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I would greatly appreciate your assistance,” she asked, her voice calm and her expression placid. If Draco hadn’t seen her shaking hands, he would have thought her unafraid. Bloody Gryffindor.

Draco had worked in Wizagenmot Support for the past three years in the office next to Granger’s. Long enough to see her through two separate and distinct absolutely shite relationships with tossers who did not deserve her. Especially this last one. The Weasel had been bad enough, but at least he had the good sense to accept when it was over. Fucking Cormac McClaggen did not. He was essentially stalking the poor witch — forcing her to listen to his soliloquies about how they were destined for one another. Hermione wasn’t prone to exaggeration so Draco knew she was underselling her concerns. It made his blood boil whenever he thought about how much worse the git’s attentions must be in practice. 

Despite her protests to the contrary, Hermione was clearly struggling if she was crawling next to him in a restaurant in Diagon Alley on a Saturday afternoon. Draco had long thought she should be with someone who respected her. 

Someone who knew she was too good for them. 

Someone like him.

Quick as he could, Draco scooped Hermione into his arms, pulling her until she was sitting on his lap, with one forearm draped across her thighs. “I’m here for anything you need, Granger.” His voice was a purr as he lightly stroked her knee through her trousers.

She rolled her eyes. “None of that Malfoy. This is a ruse. Although, I suppose if you wanted to turn your performance into more of an audition you could start by respecting my wishes. I do find that very attractive.”

He sat up straighter and put his arm in a less suggestive position. She was still in his lap, so there was only so much he could do on that front, but he hoped she would credit him for making the effort. “Is that so?”

“More and more so with every passing day.”

“Good, because I don’t want to be your friend, Granger. Not if I can be more. Do you have plans for dinner?”

“Yes, I believe I’m going out with you.”

Draco felt his typical smirk blossom into an actual smile.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Hermione. Malfoy? He’s just a professional colleague, Cormac. I fucking knew you were shagging with him.”

“I wasn’t. But I am now.” She pinched Draco lightly behind his back — in what he assumed was a warning for him to not contradict her lie. As if he would. If it was an an option, he’d like as many people as possible to think he was sleeping with Granger.

“When he hurts you, don’t come crying to me!”

“It would literally never occur to me to go to you for anything, but thank you for letting me know.”

Cormac left in a disgruntled huff.

“You serious about that dinner?”

Draco knew she was perfect for him. So if he had the chance, he would spend the rest of his life trying to be perfect for her. “Deadly serious Granger. Where would you like to go?”

#dramione #dramione drabble #dramione ficlet #dhr #dhr drabble #draco malfoy #hermione granger #draco x hermione #draco malfoy x hermione granger #fake dating #author: thelashjedi #thelashjedi

[pixydustworld]

The marriage law was announced at 2pm on a Tuesday.

By 2:15 Hermione had already drafted a motion to dismiss the law entirely. It was a good motion, too. If she’d sent a copy to Ron, he would’ve replied with: wow! lots of words! good stuff!

At 2:17 her motion was denied.

“It’s best to just accept defeat.” Malfoy said from his side of the office, bookshelves neat, papers all stacked in order. “You won’t win this one.”

“I’m not in the habit of giving up.” Hermione snapped. Her side of the office was cluttered, less pristine. Her bookshelf had a nasty habit of overflowing all over the floor, stacks of books balancing precariously on every surface. “A fire hazard.” Malfoy had sneered at her once, “Breaking several codes.”

“Hm.” Malfoy said, “I hadn’t noticed.” He was smiling softly, like he’d just told the funniest joke in the world. Waiting, almost patiently for her to smile. Stupid man with his stupid grin, Hermione wanted to throw a book at his head.

“This is archaic.” Hermione hissed. “The Ministry has gone too far. They can't force us to marry anyone.”

Even as she spoke, a squirming feeling of doubt was beginning to take root in her chest — being friends with Harry came with many things. Companionship and love, but it also came with a healthy distrust of the government (like a free gift basket! but terrible one).

Malfoy ignored her complaints. "Marriage Acts aren't as mid-evil as you're making them out to be." He said, with that annoying voice he used when he knew he was right about something, "They serve a purpose."

"A purpose?" Hermione could practically feel the beginnings of an aneurysm. A fitting death, slumped over her desk, surrounded by unfinished documents and discovered by Draco Malfoy, "Are you actually defending this?"

She would have to find a new partner. A new office, one where he wasn't constantly surrounding her, swimming on the edge of her peripheral vision. Maybe Dean Thomas would let her set up a current workplace in his records closet, he was always bragging about how it was big enough for him to take naps in during work —

"No." Malfoy said, somehow even more amused now, "I don't support it."

"Oh." Hermione said, very eloquently, "That's good."

"But," Malfoy continued, still distinctly unruffled while Hermione was very ruffled, "Most people will be unfazed. It's a Pure-Blood tradition. My parents have always planned to arrange a marriage contract.” Malfoy shrugged, “It’s not absolutely unheard of.”

“Well," Hermione said, out of breath from all the pacing she was doing, "Your parents are terrible.”

“Of course.” Malfoy said, like it was obvious. “They would never allow me the opportunity to sully the Malfoy name. Producing the correct heir is the only thing I’ll ever be good at.”

Hermione frowned. “Hearing about your family isn’t good for our working relationship. It makes me feel bad for you.”

“We can’t have that.” Malfoy said.

“No,” she agreed with a sigh, “we can’t have that.”

“So, tell me Granger. What is your plan?” His grin became less self indulgent, more fake. “You’ll have to marry someone. It'll undoubtably be the event of the season — have a fiancé you’ve been hiding from me?”

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “Do you think I could hide anything from you?”

Malfoy knew when she changed the scent of her shampoo, when she switched up her coffee order — he even knew if she was sleeping less than usual. It was impossibly annoying to be around someone so observant, someone so intent on cataloguing her every move.

"If I had a secret fiancé, which I don't, I'm confident that you're competent enough to have sniffed him out by now."

Malfoy responding grin was slow and syrupy. "You think I'm competent?"

“Piss off, Malfoy.”

“Is he shorter than me? Is that it? Didn’t want to introduce us because you knew he’d feel bad?”

“You’re taller than everyone.” Hermione said, annoyed, again, “You would obviously be taller than my imaginary fiancé. You’re like an angelic giraffe.”

“You think I’m angelic?”

“No.”

"Two compliments on top of each other, are you feeling alright, Granger?"

"Shut up."

At 2:20, Hermione began to clean her side of the office, desperate for an excuse not to talk to Malfoy.

At 2:22, Harry slammed through her door, completely demolishing the (very little) progress Hermione had made in cleaning up her side of the office.

“I’ll marry you.” Harry said, slightly out of breath, like he’d sprinted all the way to her office, “Do you think we can kiss without making a face? We’ll have to practice.”

“I’m not marrying you.” Hermione said from the floor behind her desk, “You are engaged to Theo.” She was laying on her back with a book covering her face, feeling rightfully sorry for herself.

“Theo won’t mind.” Harry said in the voice he reserved for whenever he wanted people to listen to him (i am harry potter! and i did not spill mustard on the couch! you have to believe me, i saved the world!) “It will be quick. I can get us rings before the day is over.”

"No." Hermione said, still on the floor, "I've gone along with enough of your stupid ideas. This is too much."

Because, despite it all, Harry would do this. Without hesitation, blind loyalty and unwavering determination — Harry would marry her and be pleased with his choices. He was lovely, but at times, Harry could be a misguided idiot.

"This is where you draw the line?" Malfoy hummed, "Interesting to catch a glimpse into the inner workings of your mind."

Finally scrambling to her feet (after a few more seconds of wallowing) Hermione was horrified to find a familiar look on Harry's face — one that promised something stupid.

"I'll figure it out. " Harry said, with a shrug that reminded Hermione of their childhood (occidentally, the stress headache she was feeling also reminded her of their childhood). He pointed a stoic finger at her. "Don't make a face when I kiss you."

Then, he left.

“Theo wouldn’t mind,” Malfoy said in a helpful voice, “He’d probably marry you as well. Would it be Granger-Potter-Nott? Or Granger-Nott-Potter? Better figure that out soon. Potter seems eager to find those rings.”

Hermione threw a book at his head.

Malfoy caught it with ease, his stupid Quidditch hands.

“I have an idea,” Malfoy said after a moment.

Hermione ignored him. “There has to be a way out of this.” She was pacing again, sensible shoes kicked off to the corner (where she’d undoubtedly forget them) “I could write another motion? A longer one this time. With more quotes.”

“Marry me instead.”

Hermione stopped pacing. “Excuse me?”

“I’m your best option.”

“I have many options —

“Weasley already tricked someone into marrying him and Potter is engaged to my only friend.” He frowned, in a mocking sort of way. “Did I leave anyone out?”

“No.” Hermione said flatly. “You didn’t.”

“Alright then. Marry me.”

“Hah.” She said, “Hah. I take back everything I’ve ever said about you. Malfoy, you are funny.”

“I’m being serious.” He said, looking annoyed. Fantastic, they were both annoyed. Like they always were.

“We can get married before the law passes and then you can do what you do best.” Malfoy continued, like that was a totally normal thing to say.

“Which is?” Without her shoes, the height difference was unbearably noticeable. She had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. At some point he'd stopped being a willowy wraith of a person and began the unfortunate process of filling out.

He didn’t look away. “Destroy everyone’s expectations and free the downtrodden.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “What would you get out of this arrangement?”

Malfoy shrugged, too practiced to be nonchalant. “I’d be married to a war hero. It would do wonders for my reputation.”

“And you would be married to me.” Hermione said, beginning to feel like this was getting too real, “We both know that would never happen.”

“Never?”

“Never.” She agreed.

He wasn’t smiling that lazy smile from before, this one was different. Sharper. “I don’t think that’s true.”

“Besides,” Hermione continued on loudly, “you’re no gentleman. No need to pretend. I don’t need saving, I’ll figure this out myself.”

“You don’t need to.” Malfoy said, “I will help. I want to fuck over the Ministry for many reasons, but mainly because they declined your motion.”

He was on her side of the office now, leaning casually against her desk, inches away from where she stood. He was too pretty up close, like staring at the sun.

“It was very good.” Hermione breathed.

Malfoy nodded, almost too good at pretending to be sincere.

“I’m sure it was good. You touched it. Everything you touch is golden.”

“You truly want to help me?”

“I’ve only offered several times.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “All to fuck over the Ministry? No other reason?”

“Maybe I want you all to myself.”

Hermione's eye twitched.

"Don't tease me." She managed to hiss. "Not about this."

She saw when he realized, a flicker of excitement in his eyes — when he noticed her apparent misery at how completely and helplessly she was drawn to him.

"I'd never dream of it." Malfoy said warmly, "You could kill me with ease, only an idiot would be careless around you."

She thought of all the long nights they spent together, crammed in their tiny little office. How she looked forward to her day, if only to see his stupidly pointy face. How she tried to date, but couldn’t. Because it wasn’t right — her dates were too kind, too short.

Not him.

How, through everything, he was the first person she thought of in the morning, the person she thought of in the darkness of the night, when no one could see her wandering hands — the person she looked at for a challenge, for relief and support.

Despite her best attempts, Hermione Granger had fallen in love with Draco Malfoy and now, here he was, seeming to share in her suffering.

“We’d have to consummate the marriage.” She said, giving him one last out. “You’d have to see me naked.”

“I’m sure I’ll survive.”

“I’m very bossy,” she said, “and I work all the time.”

“Good thing we share an office.”

“I’m not easy to love.”

Malfoy scoffed. “It’s been easy enough for me.”

He was close enough to touch, so uncharacteristically open. Looking down at her with fondness she didn’t know he possessed.

“I’m selfish.” Malfoy warned, “Do not forget that. I will help you destroy this law and anything else you want. Burn it all down if you want to. But I won’t be letting you go. Not now, after I've gotten you."

“I suppose that’s fine.” Hermione said softly, watching as his hand moved to touch her face, warm against her skin. "It'll be bearable to be around you, I suppose."

As he held her face in his hands, Hermione watched as his grin transform into something different, something new — a smile she'd only seen glimpses of, one only for her. "I'll work very hard to make our marriage a tolerable one." He said.

"Good," Hermione breathed, stretching up to kiss him, to finally press her lips against his, "I can't wait."

Hermione was married at 3pm on a Tuesday.

It was a small ceremony.

Harry, although he'd never publicly admit it, was relieved.

Despite his best attempts, he would've made a face when Hermione had kissed him.

#dhr #dhr drabble #hermione x draco #dramione fanfic #drabble #dramione #hermione granger #draco malfoy #draco malfoy and hermione granger #harry potter #dramione drabble #ron weasley #draco x hermione #size difference #d/hr #dhr fanfiction #dhr fanfic #dramione ficlet #marriage law #hp fic #pixydustworld

[ellieauthor]

As her charity event draws to a close, Hermione is tired, but pleased. 

The crowd is larger than she’d dared to hope for, and heavily engaged, friends and admirers cheering and whistling with each new announcement. The night has gone smoothly, no hitches or scandals. And with one bachelor left, the rest should be easy.

She smiles to herself from where she stands just off-stage as the inevitable crowd favorite is announced.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome our final lot for tonight...Draco Malfoy!”

He walks onstage with faltering steps, handsome as ever but lacking his usual cock-sure attitude. The man is nervous.

She feels a flash of something. Is it…pity?

They’d come up with a strategy for tonight, and it’d gone almost exactly according to plan.

Almost.

Ginny had won Blaise easily, avoiding any need to share her boyfriend. 

Theo had (dramatically) over-bid on Harry, happy to publicly embarrass his husband for a good cause. Plus, he knew the large sum would be good publicity for his firm.

But then Pansy, meant to protect Draco from misguided witches with delusions of betrothal contracts, had gotten…distracted.

Viktor Krum offering to participate had been a boon for Hermione’s Charity Bachelor Auction. The addition of such a high-profile celebrity brought in significant interest and advanced press coverage, and Hermione had known Viktor would be a good sport about the whole thing. It had been an easy decision with no foreseeable downside.

Until a glassy-eyed Pansy Parkinson had used all the galleons she’d brought to bid on Malfoy to secure a date with the international Quidditch star, leaving the tall, sought-after blonde on stage looking vulnerable and unsure. 

Hermione offers him an encouraging smile. 

He grimaces in return.

It’ll be fine, though. Right?

It has to be.

Her event can’t be the thing that forces him back into marriage dates after years of successful avoidance. Narcissa would be over the moon, of course. But Hermione would feel terrible.

She breathes a sigh of relief when Padma, a mutual friend with a known preference for witches, bids. A platonic date would solve all of their problems.

Her relief is short-lived.

The crowd parts to reveal a determined-looking Astoria Greengrass raising a paddle in response.

Malfoy’s panicked eyes find Hermione’s.

Please, he mouths. Desperate.

Her heart aches for him.

He’s a good friend, has been since eighth year.

He’s also a great backup date for functions, far more attentive than any of her exes. He has impeccable manners, grabbing her drinks and anticipating her needs before she has a chance to ask for anything. And he’s particularly great at subverting awkward conversations.

He’s gone to dozens of stuffy affairs, and he’s never asked for anything in return. 

Until now.

Ron, who’d volunteered to MC when Lav refused to let him participate as a bachelor, calls for final bids.

Hermione sighs.

It’s not smart. Instead of the cause, this will be the story in tomorrow’s Prophet. 

But he’s begging her with those sad, puppy-dog eyes.

Resigned, she steps onto the stage and raises her paddle.

A hush falls over the auditorium, a sudden blanket of near-silence. 

Through the quiet, someone in the crowd actually gasps. Which is ridiculous; their friendship has been well-documented. Hermione suppresses the urge to roll her eyes.

Astoria keeps bidding, and so does Hermione. In minutes they’ve promised more than the event had previously earned twice over.

Hermione is going to murder Pansy.

When they hit a landmark sum, Astoria finally backs off, and Hermione is pronounced the winner to a tittering crowd.

She walks on stage, giving Malfoy a perfunctory embrace.

“You’re paying me back,” she whispers.

He returns it, gripping tightly, wrapping her in a warm embrace. A warm, friendly embrace. “Every knut,” he agrees, his voice a low growl. Not gratitude, but something else.

A shiver travels up her spine. Which is silly, of course. This is Draco Malfoy. Her friend.

“We don’t have to go on the date,” she says as they’re engulfed by the din of the applauding crowd. “I know the organizer, she’ll let it slide.” See? It’s funny. One big joke, nothing more.

“Granger.” It sounds like a warning, but he won’t let her pull back. “I’m taking you on the best date of your life.”

He kisses her then, swallowing her confusion, and it’s even better than she remembers.

Before they were friends, there’d been that one kiss that one night that neither of them had talked about after.

The one she thinks of sometimes after a bad day, or a bad date, or a particularly long dry spell.

Blood pounds in her ears as the crowd responds enthusiastically to the new development. Hermione looks around wildly–at Ron, in the announcer’s stand. Out at the crowd. Anywhere but Draco’s intense eyes, trained on her.

From the back of the room, Pansy gives her the kind of encouraging glare only she is capable of.

In fact, all of their friends are watching them, rather expectantly.

She finally meets his gaze, and finds him grinning. “I don’t understand.”

“Parks’s been hot for Krum for ages. She begged me to let her out of our deal,” he says, with a carefully practiced shrug. “Seemed like a good time to try something I’ve wanted for ages, too.”

“...And you just left it up to chance?” she asks, suspiciously.

“Of course not,” he scoffs, leading her from the spotlight as though she’d already agreed to the date. “Who do you think talked Astoria into bidding?”

A Malfoy always gets what he wants.

#dramione drabble #dhr drabble #dhr #dhr ficlet #dramione ficlet #draco x hermione #draco malfoy #hermione granger #ellieauthor

[gloivy]

Dramione | post-war | Bondage gone wrong

“Please state your full name for the Wizengamot.”

“Draco Lucius Malfoy.”

“Mr. Malfoy, you are being charged with the kidnapping and unlawful imprisonment of Hermione Jean Granger—how would you like to plead?”

“Not guilty.”

The leader of the Wizengamot pursed his lips in clear disapproval. “Very well, let’s proceed.”

The prosecutor let out a quiet scoff, smirking as though he believed the case had been handed to him. He probably believed he had proof beyond all doubt.

Draco couldn’t wait to prove otherwise.

In his five years of probation during the war, Draco had become rather accustomed to the Ministry’s random and unsanctioned raids of his manor. Always attempting to catch out the last Death Eater and put him away with the others.

The public hated that he walked free, convinced that he was up to nefarious crimes and the cultivation of dark magic.

Though the raids had become part of his monthly routine, it took them five years before they finally caught him out—or so they believed.

They hadn’t taken the time to question him, instead they’d led him straight to the Wizengamot without a lawyer or time to put together a case.

The trial went on and Draco watched in distaste as the prosecution brought ‘witness’ after ‘witness’ to the stand.

All of which were aurors in on the plot to see Draco behind bars.

“She was tied up!”

“Bruises on her neck!”

“Malfoy was brandishing a whip!”

“She was pleading and begging for release!”

Draco tried his hardest to keep a straight face throughout the witness statements, though it was proving a very difficult task.

“Would the defence like to cross-examine the witness?” the leader of the Wizengamot asked for the fifth time. Draco shook his head.

“I would like to bring up a witness of my own, if I may?” Draco asked.

The leader of the Wizengamot looked displeased with this notion. “Who would you like to call to the stands?”

The corner of Draco’s mouth lifted. “Hermione Jean Granger.”

“Objection!” The prosecutor jumped to his feet. “The victim needs time to recover!”

“Then perhaps you shouldn’t have rushed my sentencing, hm? Ask her—if she wants to provide a witness statement at my sentencing for her ‘unlawful imprisonment’ then she’ll surely abide, no?”

Not two minutes after the patronus was sent requesting her presence did the door to the chamber swing open, the witch behind it sparking with unshed magic. Her hair flowed with a life of its own, a promise that a true demonstration of righteousness was about to take place.

“Release him now!”

“Miss Granger, we cannot simply—”

“He didn’t do anything wrong, you’ve taken something out of context and spun it to suit your own agenda!”

“Miss Granger,” the prosecution said slowly, with a condescension that only worked to anger her further.

“You were held captive, tied up for Mr. Malfoy’s own pleasure.”

Draco grinned, and Granger gave him a brief look of scorn for his ability to find amusement in such a situation.

She sighed deeply, as though what she was about to admit had already taken years off her life.

Draco only grinned wider.

“I wasn’t tied up for Mr Malfoy’s pleasure—I was tied up for my own pleasure.”

The chamber was silent, save for the click of a camera and a flash that briefly lit up the blush on Granger’s face—and the shit-eating grin on Draco’s.

All charges were dropped that very afternoon, along with a lovely front page spread in The Daily Prophet the next morning.

#dramione #draco x hermione #hermione x draco #draco malfoy #hermione granger #dhr #drabble #dhr drabble #dramione drabble #yet another oldie but goodie

[princessma1foy]

A draft made her shiver as the birds twittered cheerily above her head. She furiously wiped away a tear before it could escape. It was utter bollocks that she should be in such a state over the likes of none other than Ron Weasley. After all, he was just a stupid boy. Just… her best friend.

Hermione’s shoulders fell and she swallowed a sob. She didn’t even know why his relationship with Lavender bothered her so much. It wasn’t like she had a crush on him. It just hurt in a strange way - to see her best friends embrace the mysterious and wonderful stage of growing up that was romance, while Hermione felt as if she had no room in her heart for such things as the inevitable war loomed ever closer.

At that moment, the door creaked open.

Startled, she whipped out her wand and trained it on the intruder before she could register who it was. When she saw him clearly, her grip only tightened.

Draco Malfoy looked just as surprised as she was. The open surprise quickly faded into a guarded scowl.

“What are you doing here?” Hermione demanded, eyes narrowed.

He regarded her with hollow eyes, and for the first time in years, Hermione felt as if she were really seeing him. He looked exhausted - a shell of his former sarcastic, snippy personality. Red-rimmed eyes studied her from a pale, frail looking face. She was almost alarmed - no sixteen year old should look like that.

“Same as you, from the looks of it.” He responded tonelessly as he crossed the room, ignoring her ready wand as he slumped down against the wall opposite her to stare out the window.

Hermione relaxed her wand, albeit warily. This was unprecedented for him - never in their interactions had he let his guard down like this.

She’d be lying if she said she didn’t like it. It felt… comfortable.

Wordlessly, she flicked her wand and the birds above her melted into a blanket, which floated down to her hands as Malfoy’s eyes followed it. Hermione hesitated for a split second before silently offering it to her unlikely companion.

Malfoy studied the blanket, then her again with that same unreadable look in his pale eyes before taking it from her. Wordlessly, he held out the half closest to her, and Hermione gladly draped it over her knees before joining him in staring out the window.

“It’s coming,” he whispered hoarsely.

Hermione glanced at him. He looked haunted. She sighed heavily and returned her gaze to the constellations.

“I know.” She paused, and wasn’t sure if she should continue, but - it felt right. “I’m… scared.” It felt strange to say it out loud, to acknowledge it after all these years of burying her fear beneath her red and gold tie. Somehow, it felt like with Malfoy, she could say it.

“Me too.”

The silence seemed to grow a couple degrees warmer.

She had no idea what was going through his head, but somehow, some way, she felt at that moment they understood each other more than two souls ever had.

And when she woke next morning, he was still there - but next to her, curled in for warmth, the permanent crease in his brow gone as he slept, blissfully unaware of the terrors of tomorrow.

She’d stay still for hours just to see him at peace like that.

#ao3 writer #dramione #dramione fandom #fanfic writer #writers on tumblr #dhr drabble #dramione fanfic #dramione ff #dramione fic #dramione microfic