Hi! I was wondering are there any other pairings that you would consider for Draco and Harry? What appeals to you about those pairings?
Honestly, the only other person I ship Harry with is Ginny. I'm not likely to read Harry/Ginny fic, but that's a ship I can really imagine being happily ever after in a way that lives on in my head. Meanwhile I will totally read Harry/Snape, Harry/Sirius, or the crossgen ships, but I do not ship them and mostly really just want some nice smut in those corners of the fandom.
But for Draco, I ship Draco/Hermione in a major way. But I'm really afraid of reading fic for them because I'm just kind of assuming the dynamic will be a lot of a) Hermione deciding Ron isn't her intellectual equal and therefore is a bad partner, which is something I cannot stand and makes me almost want to like Ron out of sheer spite, b) Hermione deciding Malfoy is her intellectual equal and therefore a suitable partner, when he's really not; no one is her intellectual equal and that really is okay, c) Hermione deciding Malfoy is really hot and fuckable, or d) Malfoy deciding Hermione's gotten really hot and fuckable because she's smoothing down her hair and wearing fashionable clothes, which I despise viscerally.
Meanwhile all I've ever wanted in my life is Malfoy growing up and being a bit more mature and having some regrets and then meeting Hermione again and absolutely losing his mind for her. Like she is so smart and so talented and so powerful and so honorable and so good that he just worships her. And he's like "well that's very nice; I've turned over a new leaf and can respect a Muggleborn; I am an improved member of society," except his dick keeps being inconvenient about it.
And slowly Malfoy realizes that Hermione with her bushy hair and bad clothes is perhaps the hottest woman on earth. And it really, really sucks because Hermione is infinitely kind to him and the only person in this new society who has ever really given former Death Eaters, and also him specifically, a second chance. And she's so warm to him and generous and good and laughs at his little jokes. And also she would never be romantically interested in him in like. Ever.
She's literally never thought of him that way, not even once. She mostly pities him and kind of thinks he's a funny little guy. And Harry is like WTF he called you slurs and you were tortured in his house, and she's like, "We must move beyond our past, Harry," and she really does, but it literally never occurs to her that Malfoy is a man. He's a human being who deserves a chance. And at some point maybe someone even points out that Malfoy is a man that may have some kind of romantic or sexual desires in this world, like maybe they think Malfoy's a hunk and wonder who he might be dating, and Hermione is a startled by this because she's literally never considered it and then goes right back to not considering it, she has so little interest.
This is really the fic that I want to read. Like Draco making heart eyes for hundreds of pages and meanwhile Hermione pioneers space travel and the cure for cancer. BUT I would also be fine if eventually Hermione did notice him and return his affection, but only after like, a RIDICULOUS amount of him pining while she is so completely oblivious that she makes Wei Wuxian look super aware.
Anyway, that's my other main Draco ship, though I quite like Draco/Ginny too. I'm not sold on a particular ship dynamic, though I somehow doubt fic about them is really focused on the shared trauma of Voldemort befriending them and using them and threatening them and throwing them away, which is what I would really be into for them. I also just think they're kind of hot, I guess, though honestly most Ginny pairings are hot because she's hot.
I'll read some crossgen stuff and I'd possibly read like, idk, Draco/Lupin or Draco/Neville and like it, but I think my heart is really set on Draco/Harry or Draco/Hermione, even if I'll never read the latter.
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Only For Her
Draco X Hermione
Summary: When Hermione is attacked, Draco pushes aside his rage to take care of her. But the darkness creeps just below the surface.
Tropes: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst, Who Did This To You
Warnings: Attempted SA (not from MMC), bruising, mentions of blood, mentions of internal damage, choking, violence, trauma and trauma responses, mentions of implied torture, dark! Draco, mentions of revenge
Author’s Notes: I was feeling angsty and wrote this. Don’t read it if any of the above warnings trigger you, I have softer one-shots that don’t involve violence. Please comment if there’s a tw I missed!
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A low thud met Draco’s ears. He glanced at the door, then looked down at Crookshanks, who was curled in his lap. The cat swished his tail in annoyance.
“My sentiments exactly, beast,” Draco drawled. He returned his focus to the book in his hand.
The flat he shared with Hermione, while relatively quiet, did house a few teenagers. Perhaps they were out making a ruckus. Hermione had befriended them, naturally. Draco had not.
Another thud echoed, louder this time.
“Salazar,” Draco huffed, extremely annoyed. His fiancé was out with her ginger-haired female friend, so he had the apartment to himself. And, as much as he wished he was with Hermione, Draco enjoyed the alone time.
What he did not enjoy were interruptions.
Draco moved Crookshanks, who hissed angrily and scurried out of the room. Grabbing his wand, just in case, Draco made his way to the door.
He peered through the peephole, but only saw an empty hallway. Frustrated, he turned and made his way back toward the armchair. His tea was probably cold.
When Draco was halfway across the room, the thud sounded again, followed by another. Draco thought he heard a low groan.
Alarmed now, he hurried back to the door and threw it open.
Rage like he had not known in years overwhelmed Draco until he was nearly blinded by it. His vision tunneled to the one person that held such a grip on his normally apathetic heart.
Hermione was bruised and bloody, lying against the the wall beside the door. She was, apparently, wandless, and her breaths were shallow.
“Hermione!” Draco knelt in front of her, immediately summoning a diagnostics chart with his wand.
A cursory glance revealed cracked ribs, a bruised throat, and minor cuts and scrapes along her body. Hermione’s clothes were torn, the blouse she donned earlier nearly gaping open.
“Draco,” she whimpered, and a tear slipped from her left eye, the one that wasn’t swelling shut.
“I’m here, my darling,” Draco whispered. Quickly, he stabilized her ribs as best as he could without potions. “I’m going to move you inside, alright?”
Hermione just closed her eyes, the only movement she seemed to be able to manage.
Gently, Draco pulled Hermione into his arms. He counted softly under his breath, warning her, and then picked her up off the cold ground.
“Where’s Ginny?” Draco asked. Truthfully, in this moment, Draco couldn’t care less about the Weaslette, but he knew Hermione would be devastated if something happened to her.
Draco’s heart may be a wasteland, but it was a wasteland that Hermione loved.
“Home,” Hermione groaned.
Draco nodded and carried Hermione to their room. Crookshanks darted off the bed, sensing that something was terribly wrong.
Hermione winced when Draco laid her down, but she sighed as her body sank into their comforter.
“Can you tell me what happened, love?” A part of him knew, could see, what had happened. But he needed to hear it from her lips. Needed to know for sure.
Draco wanted names. He wanted to know what they looked like, where they lived, who they loved. He wanted to know their greatest fears so that he could become them.
Hermione started crying then, and Draco drew closer to her, running a hand through her curls. “They attacked me,” she wept. She reached for Draco’s hand and gripped it tightly. “They—they tried…” Hermione choked, her breaths quickening.
“It’s alright, darling,” Draco assured. “No one can hurt you here.”
Hermione pulled him closer. “I stunned two of them, but—but the other…he broke my wand.” She cried harder, the sobs jostling her body, “I didn’t see him!”
“Hush, love,” Draco soothed, trying to calm her. “I’m here with you. You’re safe now.”
“I got away,” Hermione gasped. “Before—I got away.”
Draco’s jaw tensed and a feeling he had never known came over him. A mixture of relief and profound sadness, a deep well of anger and pain. “You’re so strong, darling. You’re safe.”
“They hurt me,” Hermione cried, and Draco nearly broke apart. She sounded like a child, her voice small and terrified.
Draco kissed her forehead, “I know. I’m going to help you, is that alright?”
Hermione nodded. From then on, Draco asked her questions and Hermione nodded her consent or shook her head.
Do you want to go to St. Mungo’s? A definite no.
Is it okay if I remove your clothes? A nod.
Does it hurt if I press here? A head shake.
What about here? A pained nod.
On and on until Draco had lovingly patched every wound as best as he could.
When it was over, he strode into their bathroom and ran the water until it was the right temperature. He added lavender and the flower petals Hermione sometimes used when she’d had a hard day.
Draco came back into their bedroom and knelt beside Hermione once more.
“I’ve ran a bath,” he whispered. “I can help you or leave you to soak alone, whatever you need.”
Hermione met his eyes and Draco almost sobbed when a small smile split Hermione’s lips. It was faint, barely there, but Draco saw it.
“Would you sit with me?” Hermione held his hand, delicate fingers playing with his silver rings. “I don’t want to be left alone.”
“Of course,” Draco said. He released a breath he had been holding. He would have left her alone, done whatever she asked, but he couldn’t deny that it wouldn’t be difficult.
“Can I remove the blanket and carry you in there?”
Hermione nodded, and so Draco pulled back the covers and lifted her into his arms. Her skin was slightly bruised in places, but most of the damage was healed. There was a faint, yellowish tint around Hermione’s neck, where her assailants tried to choke her.
Draco had to consciously keep himself from gripping her too tight as sorrow and fury stirred in him.
They wandered into the bathroom and Draco lowered Hermione into the water. With a slight groan, Hermione leaned against the porcelain.
Draco knelt on the ground, sleeves rolled up and hands drifting in the water. Slowly, so slowly, he ran a soapy rag over her honey skin.
Draco adored this skin, worshipped it. Hermione was a treasure, and Draco would hoard her like the dragon he was.
“Draco,” Hermione murmured, those brown eyes peering up at him. “Will you hold me?”
Draco swallowed, his heart pounding in his chest. He had never felt so undone, so wholly bewitched by a single person.
He nodded, stood, and began to undress. Again, he went slow. Hermione knew his body, just as he knew hers, but he would be damned if she ever saw it as a threat. And he knew how the mind could trick and fester, twisting one’s thoughts with horrid memories. So, he went slow.
Hermione watched. Her eyes didn’t burn with lust, but she looked at Draco with the love he had become familiar with. Love that was hard earned and loyal.
Draco sat his clothes aside and stepped into the water, slipping behind Hermione. He rested his legs on the outside of her thighs and Hermione leaned her head against his chest.
Their hearts were lined up, and Draco was content to feel hers best against his. They were alive. Safe and alive and together.
“Can I wash your hair,” Draco asked, his low voice echoing in the room.
Hermione nodded, “Please.”
And so, he did. Draco used his wand to create a gentle stream of warm water, ensuring that Hermione wouldn’t have to move much. He massaged shampoo into her scalp, rinsed, and then did it again.
His fingers grazed her neck and Hermione flinched. Draco paused, then bent down to kiss her hairline. He continued washing.
Hermione cried while Draco lathered conditioner into her hair. She cried while he ran a comb through the wet strands. She cried when he lifted her from the lukewarm water and wrapped her in a fluffy towel.
Hermione’s tears dried up when Draco laid her on the bed. Carefully, he slipped a pair of cotton underwear up her legs. His hands were steady, only touching what he couldn’t help. He slipped a t-shirt over her head, one from Draco’s quidditch days that Hermione claimed as her own a while ago.
Then, Draco brought Hermione a cup of tea and a vial of Dreamless Sleep. Quickly, she downed the potion and sipped the tea.
Hermione passed out in Draco’s arms, his body curled protectively around hers.
Draco didn’t sleep that night. He didn’t close his eyes, except to blink. Instead, he allowed his mind to slip into the dark space he abandoned years before, the one that lingered on the outskirts of his consciousness.
Growing up under Lucious Malfoy was cruel. Serving under Voldemort was even worse. But the things he was taught served a purpose, and now, Draco would ensure that justice was carried out.
When Hermione awoke the next morning, Draco kissed her cheek and made her breakfast. They lounged in bed all morning, only moving to visit the restroom or the kitchen.
Draco held Hermione in his lap as his little swot read a book aloud.
“I love you,” Draco said, interrupting her.
Hermione turned, a smile on her face. “I love you, too,” she said, and she kissed him. It was swift, no more than a peck. Draco savored it, just as he savored her words, just as he would savor his revenge once he carried it out.
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