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pomegrnteseed · 7 months

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Fandom observations

I only joined the DHr fandom via ao3 in the last year or so. My twt account went live in February. I'm a relative newbie.

I'm also an internet researcher and spend a lot of my time thinking about how people interact in negative ways online. To be clear: I am not participating in fandom as a researcher, nor do I research fandom. But I can't turn off my curiosity and I think my expertise in adjacent internet cultures offers some productive framing for making sense of the behaviours I'm seeing.

The following are some percolating reflections I've been mulling over for some time now. They're incomplete and shouldn't be read as a concrete analysis or a fix-it guide; instead, consider them pervasive thought clusters with fuzzy edges and an incomplete picture as I try to talk through my ideas to identify their core elements or themes.

I'm extrapolating from macro to micro here, and without any real map or guide to structure my thinking, I'm afraid we're left wading through this tangled web together. If, indeed, anyone at all finds this of interest. Which they likely will not. Nevertheless, it's a useful exercise. And so we begin.

On connection and community

In broad strokes, I find that communities tend to be sorted by geography, identity, or interest.

In fan communities, people can connect strongly over a special or niche interest that they don't get to indulge in deep discussion with others in other social spaces. They also connect in specific locations: fora, social media, conventions, etc. Despite the interest connecting fans, there's largely a celebration of diversity and similarities.

However, there's an impetus exhibited by a vocal minority to control or manage the boundaries of acceptable representation or experimentation within fandom. And when people stray from the emotionally and socially charged interpretations considered legitimate (which, to be clear, are inherently subjective because they are not part of the original published works and therefore are all vulnerable in their faithfulness to canon or headcanon depending on the reader), communication between fans (in-fandom and spanning fandoms) can break down.

Frankly, the lack of grace extended to others in these situations is really sad.

I'd love to see more compassionate reactions to behaviour or ideas that stray from our headcanons or interests - provided they aren't harmful.

And before anyone tries to argue that DHr is harmful because Draco was a young fascist, please remember that anything can happen in fiction: writers make the rules. Fandom offers the freedom to explore alternate realities within canon universes, or even alternate universes.

Similarly, if the author is clear in not promoting violence or harm in fiction, fictional worlds are a wonderful way to explore issues of violence, harm and issues of a taboo nature in different societies and cultures. There's a marked difference between exploring taboo and creating a manifesto endorsing harm. While some of the topics may be uncomfortable for you, your discomfort does not afford you license to censor others. As consenting adults, we can enjoy Icky Things and recognise that it only is okay to engage with and explore them in fiction or fantasy.

On digital publics and (intended) audiences

Social media platforms are spaces for various publics to interact. When we post, we have an idea of who the intended audience is. It may be out general followers, or a specific group of people. Sometimes, we post for ourselves as an archive of our ideas and experiences.

We're likely not thinking about the people outside of our perceived networks as reading or engaging with our posts, but because of the (mysterious) workings of the algorithm, often our posts end up in our spaces and we can feel that our territory or personal digital space is being encroached upon (usually because they misunderstand or misinterpret our community practices or artifacts; the recent mainstream news article about Manacled is one such example). These outsiders decontextualise our co-constructed worlds and make them vulnerable to (mis)interpretation due to a lack of or incomplete cultural knowledge.

It's not just external Publicness we need to be aware of, though. There's not one DHr fandom. There are many communities or networks of individuals who share some common interests, but there are numerous differences in what people will accept or not accept as DHr-compliant (or of personal interest). The lack of cohesive agreement as to what is acceptable means that we're vulnerable to misinterpretation or misalignment with others in our spheres.

And that's not even considering the networks of fandoms related to DHr under the wider HP umbrella.

On miscommunication, disagreement and shame

When these boundaries blur or are crossed, or contention arises, we often see an uptick in sub-tweeting, screenshotting or private quote retweeting (pqrting). This "behind their back in front of their face" approach is a wholly unproductive path to addressing ideas or behaviour we disagree with.

Shame is a powerful tool for gaining and maintaining social control. It can quite easily be weaponised and effectively impact the behaviours and beliefs of others. Shaming people's ideas, actions, or interests doesn't end them, it just obscures them or quietens them in mainstream spaces, while ostracizing them and opening up opportunities for escalation (particularly in negative behaviours) to occur.

Deciding whether to engage in conversation publicly or privately is a personal, and sometimes difficult decision. Public call-ins can model good practice and signal to others when behaviour might cross into unacceptable or unproductive areas not conducive to harmonious, diverse ranges in ideas and actions. Publicly addressing behaviour can lead to defensiveness, though, if people perceive the call-in as a shaming event, instead of a good faith intervention.

On the other hand, private conversations may lead to more in-depth and impactful discussion, but no one knows it's happening and so behaviour appears to go by unaddressed - and silence can be interpreted as complicity or agreement, despite the other functions on twt to signal agreement, e.g. Likes, Replies, Retweets.

One way to maybe mediate these tensions is to note your disagreement/issue and ask to talk about it more in private.

But sub-tweeting and pqrts, while signalling your opposition, create divides or Others, which only widens the distance between people and creates barriers to well-meaning discussion.

I'm also a firm believer in protecting your peace. Block those whose ideas or behaviour is misaligned - particularly those who build their identity on negative oppositional stances (I.e. antis). You'll not change their mind, they aren't open to alternate perspectives. Save your energy for celebrating and creating within your own networks of like-minded fans.

Shifting the ways we frame our interactions, with greater recognition of parasocial relationships, and a more expansive, welcoming approach of acceptability that replaces shame or cringe with curiosity and grace could help us combat some of the hardcoded structural issues in communication created or exacerbated by platform design and the lack of a central hub of activity, interaction, and easily accessible historical information on the networks and individuals we're engaging with.

#hp fandom #dhr fandom #reflections

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pomegrnteseed · 9 months

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wanderlust

He watched her drag her feet through the frothy waves, giggling as seaweed tickled her ankles, hunting for perfectly preserved seashells to fill her mason jar.

She did this everywhere they travelled - filled a jar with sand, shells, seaglass, driftwood - and dedicated a shelf back home on her bookcase to the trinkets from farflung places.

Sirius finished his cigarette and strolled down the sand towards her, delighting in the image of her sunkissed and backlit by the golden hour. Hermione looked every part the mermaid on two legs from the tale she'd read to him the night prior. It was a dark and twisted fairytale, but here he could only see the magic, the wonder of this water nymph of his.

His.

He could still hardly believe it had been four years of exploring the world together. Figuring out life together. Growing into their relationship together.

It had been the best decision they'd ever made, leaving England two years ago. Sending those mason jars back from every beach their feet hit in carefully packaged boxes with extensive padding to protect the glass. Tucking a messily scrawled postcard locating and dating each jar. To give them stories to reminisce over when they finally returned home. Whenever that may be. They were in no hurry, content to wander, to explore, to learn, to rest.

She heard him then, footsteps heavy on the compact sand, and turned to him with a smile brighter than the stars, no inkling of the ghosts that haunted her, carefree and brimming with a childlike wonder as she proffered her cupped hands to him, filled with treasures of the sea.

What a lucky bastard he was.

Thanks @siriusmiones for the image prompt, sorry it took me weeks to write a couple words about it

#sirimione #sirmione #sirius black #hermione granger #sirius black x hermione granger #harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfic #hp fandom #hermione x sirius #fluff #drabble

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pomegrnteseed · 9 months

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There are 50 of you here following me and that feels p special! so pick a pairing and I'll write a lil drabble to say thank you and to make up for my inactivity

#harry potter fanfiction #hp fandom #hp fanfic #dramione #sirmione #hermione granger #draco malfoy #fremione #fred weasley #tomione #tom riddle

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pomegrnteseed · 9 months

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I am so gone for these two 🫠🫠

Only Thing I’ll Ever Love / A Tomione Drabble

Soft, slightly nsfw, implied time travel | 469 words

His hands were firm in hers as he spun her around the small living room in his flat. The sixties looked good on Tom – and even better on her. Perhaps that was why Hermione had stayed at all, and why she’d neglected to follow through with her mission.

Soft music played from the record player in the corner of the room, and she let herself get lost in the feeling of it – of him. They’d warned her of his charms before she’d spun that Time Turner; implored her to stick to the task of killing him and come back as soon as it’d been accomplished. But, she’d known before the floor of Grimmauld Place had fallen away beneath her feet that she’d fail. The first war had been proof enough.

“What are you thinking about, kitten?” Tom purred in her ear as he pulled her back to his chest, wrapping his arms around her stomach. They continued to sway to the beat of the music as he peppered light kisses along her neck.

“Nothing of any importance,” she replied. “Simply wondering at how I’ve ended up here, and how there are no stories about me.”

Tom knew about the mission – something about his emerald green eyes had made her tell him the moment he caught her following him through London late one night, a knife resting beside her wand inside her purse. He’d laughed, as if he’d known she would be coming. Maybe he had.

And the more time she spent at his side, helping him evade detection by the Ministry and warding the flat with magic that couldn’t be traced back to him, the more she wondered about where she fit into the first war. Why the charmed diary and horcruxes and stories of the original Death Eaters left out her name.

“There will be no stories about you,” Tom nipped at her earlobe, and the sensation of it went straight between her legs. “Because I will never let the world get close enough to touch you.”

A hand began to move down the front of her burgundy dress, teasing her through the fabric. Hermione couldn’t help but lean further into him, into his scent, her knees already growing weak from his touch.

“You may be the only thing I’ll ever love,” his fingertips found the edge of her dress and began to pull it toward her waist. “And the day anyone finds you is the day my fight – our fight – will be lost. Because I will have to stop everything to bring you back home.”

Hermione tilted her head so that she could place a soft kiss to the corner of his lips. She hadn’t thought of it that way before. Who needed fame and infamy when they held the heart of a man incapable of love?

click here to read on twitter

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pomegrnteseed · 9 months

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He's not sure what he loves most.

There's the shy giggle that spills from her lips when he tells her to get her pretty little titties out for him to inspect, tugging at her puffy nipples til they tighten into rosy buds. Watching her face flush, her eyes glaze, is delicious.

And her gasps as he slips his fingers between her legs, spreads her open and swipes his thumb over her clit, is a noise he could lose himself in. Feeling her hot breath on his cheek as he bends over her, covers her body with his, teasing her with proximity and distance til she's pressing up against him.

Then there's her moans - the rumbling, needy groan that shudders through her as his fingers find that first sweet spot in her cunt with hooked fingers, before he pushes further back, digs deeper within her for the second, more elusive patch. The one that she describes as inducing white noise, instantaneous and wholly overwhelming.

The way her eyes roll and her body seizes with the ferocity of that orgasm, the wail as her throat regains movement to unleash the near-pained exclamation is exquisite.

But her whimpering pleas, after he has taken his time to prepare her for him, her pitiful mewls as she bemoans how empty she is, how she needs him closer, needs to feel full of him - please Daddy, please - he thinks that might just be his favourite thing.

And, knowing the unparalleled sensation of her cunt stretched around him, constricting through every orgasm he pulls from her as he sinks into her over and over, slow and forceful and unrelenting, he's all too happy to oblige.

#hermione granger #hp fandom #hp fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #sirius black #sirius x hermione #sirmione #sirimione #dd/lg #daddy kink

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pomegrnteseed · 9 months

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Come Together

Prompt: "I want you" made me think perhaps H is a Beatles girlie cause her parents, and I've never seen Sirius as a Beatles Guy in fic before

Thank you to Beatificbean for this prompt, I really enjoyed piecing this together

“I want you.”

She shrieks, heart in her throat, not just because she’d been sure she was home alone, but because he’s uttering the words that haunt her nightly.

Hermione turns to the doorway and sees Sirius leaning oh-so-casually against the wooden frame, arms crossed as he looks at her. She’s in an ACDC t-shirt of his that she’d stolen from the washing basket and a pair of red jersey shorts. Perfectly acceptable loungewear for baking in the kitchen.

“That’s the song, you’re humming, right? I Want You, by The Beatles? Merlin, Hermione, you’re practically the perfect woman, knowing music like that.”

He laughs and she tries to copy him, but it’s hollow.

Of course he didn’t mean it.

She was more than 20 years his junior. She was the final stray haunting his home; Harry and Ron having moved out and moved on two years earlier. She rattled around the house like a ghost, hardly straying from her bedroom, the kitchen, or the small office they’d transformed into a potions lab for her to mess around in while she figured out what she did next with her life.

Funny how ambition quickly dries up when it’s a reality instead of a child’s dream to survive long enough to live.

“I didn’t know you knew The Beatles,” he continues on, unaware of her internal monologue, stepping towards the oven where she’s finished pouring batter into a loaf tin.

“Don’t you dare stick a finger in there, there’s raw egg! And yes, of course I know The Beatles. My father worshipped them,” she informs him with a wry smile. “Makes me think of home, of learning to bake breads and pastries on Sunday afternoons with him. Mum was useless at the sweet stuff, but Dad was a whizz at baking, you know. Ironic, given his professional quest to save every tooth he met. He’d stick a cassette in and-”

The tears overwhelm her and he pulls her in for a hug. It doesn’t soothe her like he intends, just twists the knife of loneliness harder, but she swallows it all down, pushes and pushes until she doesn’t feel it anymore.

“I have the vinyl in my room, if you want to listen over banana loaf and chai?” he offers.

The only way he knows how to offer comfort is through company and hot drinks. It’s kind of adorable, though she’d never tell him as much.

Forty minutes later, she’s at his bedroom door with chai and a plate with sliced banana loaf, hovering, knows crossing this threshold changes nothing - it’s Sirius, the man who sees her as his ward - but nonetheless the trepidation tangles in her tummy.

The door opens and he’s lounging on his bed, vinyl cover in hand, patting the mattress beside him.

The opening chords of Come Together fill the room. She perches on the edge, pushes a plate in his direction, and busies her hands with her own.

“Did you add cinnamon?”

She nods, not meeting his gaze.

He hums.

“My favourite.”

She knows.

They listen to the entire album in silence, only moving to turn the disk over in its player. She lets the songs surround her in a nostalgic blanket, wistful for the easy, breezy carelessness of childhood.

“Oh darling,” Sirius breaks the silence when the final song ends and the record player clicks off.

She peers up at him, questioning.

“My favourite song on the album is probably Oh! Darling.”

She smiles, it’s weak and thin but that’s as sincere as she can muster. Wishes those words meant something more.

“Because is mine. You know it’s inspired by Moonlight Sonata? The complexity of the harmonies is unbelievable, it’s so layered. And yet, the sound is almost deceptively simple. A real conundrum of a track.”

His mouth twists, not a smile or a grimace, but something pained nonetheless.

“I was sure you’d say Here Comes the Sun,” he murmurs. When she quirks a sardonic brow he grins fully. “Y’know, because you’re so hopeful and full of light. Always looking for the silver lining.”

She’s not sure she is, but she takes the mischaracterisation as a compliment with a snicker.

“Sure, Sirius, whatever you say.”

A beat.

“I best go clear up my mess,” she says, moving to stand.

“I Want You.”

“What about it?” she asks, stacking empty plates and mugs.

“I’m serious.”

She blinks, confused and feeling as though he’s making fun of her. The vulnerability rolls her shoulders in anticipatory defense.

“Hermione. I want you. It would be a literal crime to let you walk out of this room now I finally have you in it. Wearing my fucking clothes, no less.”

She must surely have entered an alternate dimension. Or she’s having a stroke. Because there’s no way in hell this is actually happening.

His tattooed hand shoots out to grab her wrist, pulls on it, forcing her to look him in the eye.

What she sees knocks the wind out of her.

His expression is open, vulnerable, eyes gleaming. Hermione is baffled, completely unprepared.

“Unless, of course, you’re not interested. And- well, why would you be. Ignore me darli- Hermione. Just, forget it. Call it a senior moment, let me get the door for you.”

He leaps from the bed, jostling her as he passes, opens the door, head bowed.

“You- you want me? Seriously?”

“I’m always Sirius.”

“I will smack you, Sirius Black.”

He chuckles but it quickly morphs into a weary sigh.

“You don’t understand how incredible you look when you’re lost in the music, Hermione. Transcendental. You’re a vision. I mean, you always are. But you’re sitting there in my fucking t-shirt, listening to my favourite album, and you have this dreamy little grin. You’re hardly in the room, but it doesn’t matter. You’re comfortable enough to let yourself fully feel the music around me. And that’s no small thing. I know it isn’t. So, yes, I’m struck by an epiphany listening to my favourite band with my favourite witch who’s added my favourite spice to my favourite fruit loaf. Is it really so surprising?”

She laughs and it’s melodic. She’s euphoric.

“Yes, you dolt. It’s utterly baffling. Completely bewildering. Now kiss me.”

And he does.

#sirmione #Sirius Black #Hermione Granger #hp fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #hp fandom #Beatificbean gave me this prompt

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pomegrnteseed · 9 months

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fleeting

"It's all my fault. She had nothing to do with this."

"She has everything to do with this."

"Please, Tom. Please. I love her. She didn't know. Tom, no-."

"Obliviate."

She had never seen a man so striking.

The hazy grey rain seemed to avoid him, an aura radiating from him as if he could command the elements. A frisson of energy coursed through her, settling deep in her belly- a ghost of a past stolen in the accident.

"Are you lost?"

"In a fashion."

That voice tugged at her misty memory.

"Do I know you?"

"I shouldn't think so."

She regarded him carefully, his answers seeming.. off.

"Care to wait out the rain inside?"

"I don't mind the rain."

"Stay awhile."

A sigh.

"As you wish."

Watching him settle in her thatched roof cottage, she felt he fit right in. Which was odd - no one felt at home among her chaos. He moved through her kitchen with practiced ease.

"You've been here before."

"Yes."

"You know me."

"I did."

"You're the reason I ache."

He didn't respond. Perhaps that was all the answer she needed.

"How long can you stay?"

"Until the memory hits."

As she went to ask him what that could possibly mean, a sharp pain stabbed her left temple, leaving her gasping.

He caught her before she hit the stone floor, carrying her to the sofa and laying her with a gentleness that betrayed his every emotion. Settling her against the cushions, he whispered apologies in her hair. She couldn't form a question before she heard it.

"Obliviate."

---

I am toying with the idea of building this one out more, but I have no solid plans yet

#dramione #Hermione Granger #Draco Malfoy #Tom Riddle #obliviate #hp fanfic #hp fandom #harry potter fanfiction #drabble

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pomegrnteseed · 9 months

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I love YOU skully, you absolute sweetheart 🖤

Prompt: i just want sweet soft tender sirmione where they’re so fucking in love with each other, it’s only them on their own little world.

The sweetest of drabbles for angel @siriusmiones (originally posted to twt)

The kettle whistling was what finally got him moving.

Lifting the woman off his lap and onto the kitchen table, he set about making the morning tea and toast.

With every back and forth - to the fridge, the sink, the cupboard, the fridge again - Hermione demanded he pay the kissing tax.

"Kissing tax?", he asked with a confused grin.

"Yes. I'm losing out on valuable kissing time here because you /insist/ on making breakfast the Muggle way. So, consider me the tollbooth you must pay in kisses every time you pass by me."

He can't fault her logic.

She takes in the sight of him. Hair ruffled from the pillow, grey pajama trousers slung low, tattoos and light musculature of his back on show with every movement. Domestic never looked so good. He slathers raspberry jam on his toast, drizzles honey onto hers. Piles it on a tray and saunters back to the table where she spreads her knees for him to settle between.

They don't kiss - just share in the warmth of this closeness. A stillness neither of them hoped to find. She marvels at their peace when they're reading in the library. Or gardening. When he croons along to the 70s rock band vinyls he collects like a magpie.

He helps her off the table and into her chair. One more kiss tax payment, and they settle into breakfast.

Sunlight dances through the window pane, dust particles dance in slow motion.

Life is good.

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pomegrnteseed · 9 months

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POOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

Hi. 💖 that’s it. Ok luv u bye 🖤

Hi fren! Thanks for dropping by 🤭 Luv youuu 🖤

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pomegrnteseed · 9 months

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Prompt: i just want sweet soft tender sirmione where they’re so fucking in love with each other, it’s only them on their own little world.

The sweetest of drabbles for angel @siriusmiones (originally posted to twt)

The kettle whistling was what finally got him moving.

Lifting the woman off his lap and onto the kitchen table, he set about making the morning tea and toast.

With every back and forth - to the fridge, the sink, the cupboard, the fridge again - Hermione demanded he pay the kissing tax.

"Kissing tax?", he asked with a confused grin.

"Yes. I'm losing out on valuable kissing time here because you /insist/ on making breakfast the Muggle way. So, consider me the tollbooth you must pay in kisses every time you pass by me."

He can't fault her logic.

He helps her off the table and into her chair. One more kiss tax payment, and they settle into breakfast.

Sunlight dances through the window pane, dust particles dance in slow motion.

Life is good.

#sirmione #hp fandom #hp fanfic #Hermione Granger #Sirius Black #harry potter fanfiction

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pomegrnteseed · 9 months

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Hermione had a thing about mouths. She loved tracing Draco's cupid's bow with her finger and her tongue. She loved his dark, sadistic smirk, loved kneeling with her mouth open to receive the spit he gifted her.

More than that, though, Hermione was interested in the distortion - destruction - of her mouth. Her mouth got her in trouble a lot; made her few friends at school, some enemies in the Wizengamot. When nervous, she could barely control her babbling, when angry her tongue cut.

Tonight she was nervous. She had inadvertently insulted him at a dinner, slip of the tongue left her blushing, Blaise and Pansy tittering, Draco fuming.

When they'd arrived home, he’d told her to strip and kneel by his armchair. Apprehensive, she followed his instructions at speed.

He appraises her from his chair, a thumb passing between her lips to stroke her tongue, press down on it. She melts.

"This fucking mouth. I swear, girl, one day you'll regret your loquaciousness."

He tells her to get in her place.

She's tongue and lips and open throat between his legs. Her mouth won't get her in trouble here. She can be useful. Quiet. Grateful. Small smile and bruised lips lavishing his cock, balls and the crease of his thighs with unwavering attention.

He pulls her head up, forcing her jaw open. Driving fingers to the back of my throat.

She's squirming, a dripping mess accumulating on the wooden floor beneath her, but she can hardly bring herself to care.

She tries to beg around the knuckles stretching the skin at the corners of her mouth. Please. She doesn't even know what she's asking for. He hooks a finger at the corner of her mouth. It's humiliating and so desperately hot her eyes water.

His hand disappears and she whines. A heavy thumb traps her tongue with forefinger beneath to shut herr up. She squirms, instinct kicking in to seek refuge. He threatens to break her jaw if she doesn't stop, knowing she can't decide whether to keep moving or not.

When he lines her cock up to her mouth and tells her plainly that he's going to fuck her throat, that oxygen is a privilege she needs to earn tonight, she's sure her skin has conjured Fiendfyre.

"Don't make a sound."

She sinks and she soars.

#nsfw #hp fanfic #hp fandom #hermione granger #draco malfoy #submissive hermione granger #dominant draco malfoy #dramione #spit kink #power exchange #Clothed Dom naked sub #oral fixation

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pomegrnteseed · 9 months

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a relationship should be mutually beneficial. he kills my enemies and i lick the blood off him afterwards.

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pomegrnteseed · 9 months

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raspberries

He wasn't sure when he first noticed it, but now it was unmissable.

Hermione Granger was not alright.

Draco had found her habits endearing initially; the lopsided piles of books on her desk, the mountains of paper piling up around her, the three quills stuck in her hair as she frantically patted down her pockets searching for something to write with.

The way she always took notes, handwriting spilling off the page in near-illegible scribbles as her brain failed to keep up with the thoughts running a mile a minute in her mind.

Her stomach always rumbled in staff meetings because she never ate breakfast, often worked through lunch, and pressed the beginnings of a dehydration headache from her temples as Robards rumbled on.

She was a meticulous researcher, loved the intricacies of laws and precedent, past cases she could help the aurors and magibarristers with. No one could crack her filing systems, but the evidence was always solid, always compelling. She was a talented woman, despite the barely contained and near-tangible chaotic energy that fizzed around her.

But three months ago, Draco noticed a shift.

Her blunt responses to McLaggen's idiotic requests in meetings were replaced with a chewed lip and silent bob of her head in acknowledgement. The stacks of papers and books now overwhelmed her small office, the door couldn't be fully opened when he popped his head in to see if she was ready for the briefing with Potter and Thomas at 3 o'clock.

He'd found her crunched in a ball in her seat, right leg bouncing, as she squirmed in the chair, completely engrossed in the notes she was writing. Two puddles of ink had been left to coagulate on her parchment, the fabric turning to mulch and slowly tearing a large hole in her work.

He coughed, but she didn't respond. Eventually, he called her name and she jumped with surprise.

"Malfoy, sorry, I was- doesn't matter. Is it that time already? Merlin, let me find-"

Her volume petered off as she mumbled to herself, hurriedly searching for the relevant documents, before growing frantic.

"M- my wand isn't- Malfoy I can't find- what a stupid woman, so careless, so lazy!"

To his horror, tears welled in her eyes as she tore through her desk, the wand in question nowhere to be found.

She gripped her thighs tight, nails digging into the material of her trousers, face red and torso rocking as she tried to calm her breath.

"Granger- Hermione, I need you to breathe."

She whimpered and Draco finally managed to curl his way round the door, finding a space to fit his feet between boxes and books and files.

He crouched, meeting her at her level, a tentative hand reaching out but slowly receding when she flinched.

"Hermione? I'm going to reschedule the meeting with Thomas and Potter. They're free tomorrow at the same time. Let me send a note to them. And then we'll figure out where your wand has rolled to."

She's chewing on her lip and he's sure it must be bleeding, but her small nod is all the permission he needs to rip a corner of parchment and send the note to Potter, who he urges to give her space til the following day. The man is infuriatingly protective of this witch, and the room really doesn't have space to fit another body among the file boxes and tomes. Especially with his tendency towards the dramatic.

Note sent, he surveys the woman before him. Her hands are now in fists, arms tight at her sides, and her shoulders are rounded. He senses shame in her and doesn't understand.

"Before we begin, have you eaten today? Do you need some water?"

She peers up at him, questioning gaze as she nods, tentative and skittish. He smiles gently.

"Go and grab yourself something from the tea cart in Meeting Room 3, it's empty but there's plenty leftovers. And then nip to the bathroom. I'll draw up a search plan."

She considers his words, eyes back on the floor as she weighs up her options, and acquiesces. As she slips out the door, he tells her there were definitely cheese and tomato sandwiches left. She nods in acknowledgement but carries on out the room.

He surveys the damage of her frantic searching, righting precarious leaning towers of books, replacing stationary, tucking her glasses away in their case. He brightens the light in the room a little, cracks open the window to let a little air in, and tries to determine a way forward, since his own Accio Granger's Wand was unsuccessful. Not that he was questioning her wandless casting or her ability to cast wandlessly under emotional strain. Draco Malfoy learned long ago not to underestimate this woman.

She returns with her food and water bottles for them both, stopping suddenly and frowning at the room.

"You brightened the light."

He nods.

"I thought it would help us search better with more light in the room."

"I don't- not that I'm ungrateful, but I can't have the light this bright. It hurts."

She trips over her words and apologies for inconveniencing him, tries to explain she can push through but he's already fixed his tampering. He goes to the window and closes it too, her wry, self-deprecating smile telling him his instincts were right.

"The noise," she explains with an apologetic shrug, "it gets too much sometimes. But the fresh air helps. I always forget to air the place out."

"Before we disrupt your filing system and double your workload in fixing my poor attempts to follow it, can I ask when you last remember using your wand?"

She closes her eyes, corners of her mouth pulled down.

"I can't remember."

He hums.

"Take me through your morning."

She does, and her eyes shoot open as she explains she'd made a second trip to the archives for this afternoon's meeting.

"I hadn't factored in the time, you see, so I was rushing. Was worried because the meeting was in 3 hours so I needed to get down and back so I could try and get lunch, but the lift was slow and there was a Disposal team at the Department of Mysteries again, so I had to take the long way round. There weren't any cheese sandwiches left, so I took the stairs but it made me even later so then-"

Draco nods along, following her out the door as they retrace her steps, her chattering all the while.

"Did you know the last time the Lestrange manor was raided, Burke's grubby little assistant stole Harry's glasses? I read it in his report. Absolute nuisance that girl-"

She stops suddenly, blushing and apologising.

"I don't realise I do it, you know. Talk, that is. I mean, obviously I know I'm talking but I don't realise I'm /still/ talking until suddenly I'm aware and I'm very embarrassed. Please do tell me to shut up. And if I don't listen, remind me I asked you to intervene."

Draco takes in this woman, her shining eyes trained on her fingers as she picks at the skin of her right thumb repeatedly. He gently reaches and she lets him pull her hands apart, watches him soothe her raw skin slowly with his cooler hands on her clammy ones. Her breath catches.

"Why are you being so nice?"

He laughs, but stops immediately when she frowns, turning to him before the Archives door.

"I'm serious. Why?"

Draco sighs.

"You take your tea with one sugar. You never have more than two cups a day. Your notes are embarrassingly messy, but you know exactly what you mean. You wear the same outfits, but sometimes you have on different socks and I /know/ those days are hard on you because you kick your shoes off and grumble about the carpet. You are remarkably talented and you have never let us down, but you are clearly exhausting yourself and are wholly unsupported in your role. I'm completely bewitched by you, Hermione Granger, your quirks and your inability to ever return a book to the library, even when it's not useful because One Day It Might Be. You forget to eat sometimes, and it's okay to ask for help. But I want to help even when you don't ask, or don't realise you need the reminder."

He lets out a huff.

"You stopped being snarky to McLaggen, and honestly that was the final straw. You always have a good comeback for him."

She's slackjawed.

"He told me I was weird. But his face was so twisted when he did it. It felt like school again. I've tried so hard to fit in. To do well. And mostly I think I'm good. But that day I'd missed a memo from Robards and I cried because it felt like failure and Cormac laughed. It hurt. And I got so flustered I couldn't speak. My jaw just wouldn't open. I never let people see me like that. But that night, I crawled onto my bed and the twist of his mouth played over and over. And everything slowly started slipping after that. Like I'd dropped one marble and the rest rolled out the bag, dropping to the floor."

Draco watches her, the sagging of her shoulders. He doesn't understand her perception of failure, but it clearly weighs her down.

"It's pasta night tonight, yes?"

She nods, baffled by the change of conversational direction.

"I happen to make a great tomato sauce. And homemade garlic bread. Will you join me for dinner? If not tonight, maybe next week?"

She twists her fingers, weighs up her options. He waits patiently.

"Tonight works. If you don't mind me going for a twenty minute walk after."

"20 minutes is enough time for me to prepare the fruits for dessert. No raspberries, naturally."

"They pop wrong!"

He laughs, recollecting her diatribe on the insult to her tongue the meek raspberry posed. Then he nodded to the Archives door.

"You'll likely find your wand in the last box you searched. Since you summoned it to the sorting table."

The o-shape of surprise her mouth makes is utterly tempting, but he wants to do this right.

"You're not a failure, Hermione Granger. You're remarkable. And you're human. And I think you're the most intriguing woman I've ever met. The way your brain works, the connections you make - I will never replicate, but I could watch you work for hours and still be bewildered the following day. Have dinner with me. Let me learn what helps you feel safe and comfortable and capable. Let me get to know you beyond the Ministry. I think you're something special. It would be an honour to learn you, as best I can."

She hasn't looked him in the eye so long before. He knows because he counts the seconds each time, falling into the depths of her caramel irises.

Her smile is slow to build but when it reaches full grin Draco finds himself unsteady on his feet. She's radiant.

"You really do see me, don't you?" she asks him, glowing at his confident nod.

"Yes Draco Malfoy, you can cook me pasta for dinner. And I'll try your raspberries."

- - -

I was inspired by Ivie over on twitter to explore neurodivergence in this fandom, and used my own recent discoveries about myself. I have no dx so I don't label anything here. I just wanted to explore soft Draco being gentle with overly hard on herself Hermione because it was cathartic for me on a bad day to imagine what that kindness and patience could look like.

#dramione #harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfic #soft draco malfoy #neurodivergent hermione granger #draco malfoy #hermione granger #hp fandom

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