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pixydustworld · 1 year

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When Hermione had received her Order of Merlin First Class, it hadn’t been for her sacrifice like Harry’s had been, nor bravery, like Ron’s.

Hermione had gotten hers for being clever.

For keeping them alive, for all those years. For being able to see what was coming — but entering an unbreakable vow with Draco Malfoy?

She hadn’t seen that coming.

Two days before, Hermione had awoken in a St. Mungo’s hospital room, with a very concerned looking Harry Potter hovering above her face. “Hi.” He’d said, as if this was a normal way to wake someone up, “You’ve been in a coma.”

Hermione had yelped and punched Harry in the nose.

After explaining to several concerned healers that Harry’s bloody nose was a casualty of hovering an inch above someone's face, and not, in fact, a sign of another impending Wizarding War, Harry had flopped in the chair beside her bed.

A chair that he’d apparently been sleeping in. His Auror robes had been crumpled, like he’d been wearing the same pair for a few days — a stack of files balanced almost dangerously on the edge of the bedside table.

“I was worried about you.” Harry had said thickly, nose still bleeding, dripping down his face without anything to stop it. “It’s been a month.”

All Hermione had been able to think about was her twelve year old self, waking from another magical sleep, to find that Harry had taken to sitting by her bedside back then, too.

“What happened?” She’d asked softly.

Harry had sighed, finally leaning back to stop the flow of blood. It was always the muggle way with him, Star Wars themed band aids and sloppy stitches he did himself. “You were poisoned.” He'd said, “They didn't know when you’d wake up.”

Hermione had blinked at him. “It could've been years.” Years of sleeping in a chair, neglecting his life for her own, eating terrible hospital food and watching her chest steadily rise and fall.

Years of waiting for something that might never come.

“Ron’s been sleeping here, too.” Harry had continued. “The staff isn’t happy, but I just have to whip out the: i am harry potter, i battled death so that you could eat scones by the seaside and live a peaceful life’ it’s a whole spiel. I’ve actually gotten quite good at it.”

The feeling in Hermione’s chest had tightened. The thought of Ron and Harry, waiting for her to wake up, patient in a way she hadn’t expected. Always together. Inescapable, like the tangled roots of an overgrown tree.

“Thank you.” Hermione had said, “For waiting for me.”

She had given him a tentative smile, before it was very quickly replaced with a look of horror. “Harry.” She’d said, beginning to the harrowing task of untangling her legs from the blankets, “I’ve been out from work for a month.”

“Someone tried to kill you.” Harry had said in a lazy voice, still bleeding, “No.”

“Harry — ”

“You can’t possibly think I’d let you go straight back to work. Death is my specialty, you can’t have it.”

“Let me go?” Hermione had laughed sharply, “I don’t have to ask your permission for anything.”

She had finally freed her legs from the torture trap of hospital linnens, “I need to get back in front of the Wizengamot, ask for an extension of my Werewolf Act — ”

“I can’t protect you all the time.” Harry had said tightly. “Just — give me a few days to figure all this out. Please.”

And perhaps that’s what this was all about — he felt helpless and out of control; felt like everyone else had his entire life. This helplessness wasn’t foreign, not to her, but to Harry? It was new and overpowering.

“Harry,” Hermione had said gently, taking his hand in her own, “I’m alright.”

“I thought I was going to have to watch you die — ” fingers white from how hard he had squeezed them, “I felt so helpless, I couldn’t do anything.”

“And I’m alright.” Hermione repeated. “But you can’t stop me from going back to work. It’s my life.”

Harry had frowned. “If you’re going back to work, you need a bodyguard.”

“Fine.” Hermione had said after a minute of well deserved sulking, “You can do it.”

“I can’t.” He’d said, looking miserable and tired and covered in blood; looking like the version of Harry that Hermione was most familiar with, “I missed so much work being here that I promised Kingsley I’d do as many public appearances as he wanted for three months.”

He’d checked his watch and somehow had gained the ability to look even more miserable. “I need to get back. But don’t worry, I'll find someone. I’ll make them take a vow to protect you.”

Hermione had rolled her eyes. “Don’t be stupid.”

Harry, however, had planned on being very stupid.

The twist of fire around her skin brought Hermione back to the present, where she stood across from Draco Malfoy, their hands clasped together. The scrape of his calluses against the flesh of her palm was the only thing that grounded her. Caught like prey in his path.

“Do you swear to watch over her?” Harry asked, “Until this threat is eliminated?”

Malfoy held her gaze. “I do. I’ll eliminate the threat myself.”

Hermione, to her credit, only winced a little when the fire licked across their skin, engulfing their arms completely.

“Trust me?” Malfoy asked softly, voice barely heard over the roar of the flames that bound them together.

“Do I have a choice?”

Malfoy smiled, slow and syrupy, “No,” He said, “I don’t think you do.”

The flames flickered and went out. Malfoy didn't let go of her hand.

After Harry left to smile blandly at a ribbon cutting, the room was quiet. It felt smaller than before, Harry always seeming to take up more space than he ever intended.

“Did you pick me?” Malfoy asked. Hermione glanced up at him from her desk to find that he was not being casual, and was instead, standing directly in front of the door; like a suit of armor someone dragged into her office as a joke, guarding her, she realized.

Through a lifetime of painful situations, Hermione had learned that the best way out was through; face the dragon now, if only to be free from its fire later. “Yes,” she said with a sigh, “I picked you.”

Malfoy nodded. “I visited you.”

Hermione’s eye twitched. “Did you?” She asked, still focused firmly on sounding like a normal person, with a normal voice, “can’t imagine how you explained that to Harry and Ron.”

“It was always while your faithful pets were sleeping, curled up by your side.”

“Don’t call them that.”

“Isn’t that what they are?” His voice light, cautious to proceed, but like always, his willingness to tease won out, “You made the mistake of feeding them, they’ll always come back.”

“Harry saved the world, don’t compare him to a barn cat — ”

“You saved the world.” Malfoy scoffed. “Potter would’ve been dead at eleven, if you hadn’t decided your favorite hobby was keeping him alive.”

A sharp laugh left her chest, but at least this was familiar. In a world that had continued to turn while she slept, this was the first moment that felt real; the arguing, the sharpness, this was something they’d always have, regardless of time.

“I saved nothing.” Hermione said, “I’m just clever. Lots of people are clever.”

“Not as clever as you. They all talked about you.” Malfoy said softly, “Voldemort.” No flinch now, no fear in death, “Aunty Bella. Couldn’t understand how someone like me was second to you. She’s just better, I’d say, she just is. Like glass in my mouth to admit back then, but it was the truth.”

“Well, to be fair, I was top of the class.” Hermione said, “You weren’t lying about that. You just lied about everything else.”

At his raised brow, Hermione rolled her eyes. “I think it might be them, yeah, yeah, it could be.” She said in a low, mocking voice. “It was a good lie, very clever, but a lie just the same.”

“Hm.” He said, still guarding the door, Auror robes looking stupidly good on him — were they supposed to be that form fitting? “Upset that I saved you?”

“I would’ve gotten us out eventually.”

A trap she hadn’t seen coming until too late, tumbling head over feet into the darkness. “Yes,” Malfoy practically crooned, “you would have found a way out.”

“Piss off.”

“Have I struck a nerve? How strange, you’re usually so unruffable.”

“And you usually know when to stop talking.”

The silence that followed was blissful, almost like sinking into a hot bath. Hermione had just started a thorough redraft of her Werewolf rights bill, when Malfoy started talking again.

“I thought you’d be safe.” He said, “With me gone, I thought the threats would stop. I thought, if I watched you from afar, you’d be free.”

“And the second I take my eyes off you, someone tries to kill you.” He was mad, anger so apparent Hermione had no idea how he’d managed to hide it in the first place. So heavy and present, begging to be freed.

“We broke up.” Hermione snapped, “I wasn’t yours to protect, you have no need to feel guilty about any of this.”

“You will always be mine to protect.”

And there it was, out in the open, for both of them to see.

“What if I marry someone else?”

“They’ll grow used to me standing watch in the garden.”

“You’re impossible.” Her desk didn’t feel like a big enough barrier between them, she’d need to flee the country soon. “Absolutely insane.”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “When it comes to you? I am.”

Despite all her cleverness, Hermione hadn’t been able to see Malfoy coming, and hadn't been able to prepare herself for the loss of control his presence provided. How much, despite her best efforts, she still loved him.

He was an unstoppable force, and now, thanks to Harry Potter and his fondness of unbreakable vows, they were stuck together.

“I almost went mad.” Malfoy breathed, “After — after you left, I survived knowing you were out there. That your light was a warmth I could bask in, even from afar. But watching you in that bed at night, it was as if you’d died.”

He shuddered. “Like the sun fell out of the sky.”

“I’ll be alright.” Malfoy said, “When you move on. But I meant what I said earlier. I’ll kill whoever did this to you, and then I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure nothing like this ever happens again.”

“From my garden.” Hermione said softly.

Malfoy grinned sadly. “Yeah,” he said.

Hermione had been asleep for an entire month, and all she could remember, was dreaming about Draco Malfoy.

She dreamt of the curve of his lips when he smiled, the weight of his fingers on his flesh — she dreamt of everything and nothing and all that was between.

She dreamt of subtle moments of peace over morning tea, the air between them soft and sweet — happiness real and all around her, something she could touch and see and taste.

She dreamt of their arguments, wild and all encompassing, bitter and bright; no one had ever challenged her the way he did, understood her need to fight for space in the world.

She dreamt of his humor, so far tucked beneath the surface it still surprised her; even now — she dreamt how dramatic he was, like a house of cards trembling in the wind.

She dreamt of how he fucked her, the weight of his body against her own, the scrape of his teeth against her flesh — how it felt to be stretched and filled, the warmth of his cum inside her, against her thighs. How her pleasure always seemed to be a tangible goal for him to reach.

She dreamt of the sound of his voice, the way he moaned against her throat, the names he called her, how he sighed her name on an exhale; the sound of his voice was burrowed so far into her being, she felt it, ingrained in her bones.

“I dreamed of you.” She finally said.

He looked at, eyes serious. “Don’t tease.”

“You’re being very dramatic for someone who broke up with me.”

“I thought I was protecting you.” Malfoy grumbled, “Obviously, that didn’t go as planned.”

Hermione, to her credit, only rolled her eyes a bit. “Well.” She said, “good thing I’m clever enough to fix this.”

By the time she’d left the sanctuary of her desk, Malfoy looked ready to crumble to the ground.

“My bright girl,” He said, “You can fix any problem. Fix me — ”

He finally stopped talking when she kissed him. The silence was grand, but his touch? That was a gift.

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rinamorten · 4 months

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MANACLED

"I have warned you. If something happens to you, I will personally raze the entire Order. That isn't a threat. That is a promise."

— by @senlinyu

#dramione #harry potter #draco malfoy #draco x hermione #fanfiction #ao3 dramione #rina morten #dramione au #dramione aesthetic #dramione manacled #manacled #manacled aesthetic #manacled draco and hermione #manacled fic #dramione angst #dramione wallpaper

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lacedpink · 9 months

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Enchanted by lacedpink | Dramione Fanfic AO3

When Hermione accidentally wears a charmed necklace to the Ministry charity gala, she’s overwhelmed with ensorcelled suitors. Except that the only one she truly cares about seems entirely unaffected.

But is he?

Inspired by Enchanted (Taylor's Version) by Taylor Swift

dramione - co-workers - mutual pining - fluff & angst - one shot - 5000+ words

#harry potter #dramione #fanfic #fan fiction #fandom #dramione fandom #dramione fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #fanfic rec #harry potter fanfic rec #fan fic writing #fan fic rec #fan fic author #dramione ff #dramione fluff #dramione angst #Spotify

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givemequeen · 2 months

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DRAMIONE FIC

HEY GUYSS!! pretty sure i've mentioned before, but i'm working on a dramione fic. i have like 5 chapters out rn (working on the 6th), in case any of you are interested! its on AO3

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damsel-in-mistress · 1 year

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Hogwarts-Era:

1) Ashes of Another Life - 6th year, 987 words, oneshot

Summary: At the dead of night atop a Hogwarts tower, Draco Malfoy falls prey to despair.

2) Knock Me Sideways - 6th year, 3.038 words, oneshot

Summary: She wasn’t supposed to walk in on him. She was supposed to be tutoring some third-year half-wits, not catching him red-handed, clothes wildly strewn all over the floor while he was still at it.

On the bed.

With mussed-up hair and shock-widened eyes.

Unable to deny what he was doing.

3) You Know it Will Always Just be Me - 8th year, 6.391 words, oneshot

Summary: Her palms grew damp in his elegant fingers.

“Is it still me that makes you sweat, then?” he murmured smugly, clearly having noticed.

If they hadn’t been followed by so many curious pairs of eyes, she would have openly glared at him, but since she couldn’t – in favour of keeping up appearances – she chose to grit her teeth behind the front of a charming smile and ignore his statement.

“Why so quiet, Hermione? You’ve never been one for silences and we’re required to have some civil conversation, aren’t we?”

“If that’s your understanding of ‘civil’, then I suggest you keep quiet for the remainder of this dance,” she replied curtly, that saccharine smile never faltering.

A low hum of recognition snuck its way past his sealed lips. “Seems to me like I hit a nerve there.”

4) The 'Pretty' Series (dark!Draco warning) - 3 drabbles, 443 words

Summary: She may be a beneath me, tainted, filthy, but Merlin help me – she’s so pretty when she cries.

5) F*** the Pain Away - 6th year, 8.049 words, oneshot

Summary: "Three things happened simultaneously: His left hand shot out to grasp the intruder’s wrist in a death grip, he realised who the intruder was, and the Stupefy died on his lips. Brown eyes open wide with surprise, brow furrowed, mouth ajar in a soft gasp, Hermione Granger stood before him."

When Draco's world is misery and dread, Hermione happens upon him in Myrtle's bathroom. None of them could have forseen what this will lead to.

Post-Hogwarts:

1) Fighting Destiny - 4/4 Chapters, 11.417 words

Summary: In a post-war world with cushy jobs at the Ministry of Magic (and a night club as his personal playground), Draco and Hermione grow closer. What destiny awaits them? And if they don't agree with it, will they be able to fight it?

2) Education is Key (jealous!Hermione)- oneshot, 1.617 words

Summary: No, Hermione Granger is certainly NOT the catfighting kind. Least of all now that she's nearing 30.

But some people just bring out the worst in her and isn't it great to have friends like Ginny who then remind her that sometimes, you just have to educate. . . .

3) Broke-Broken - oneshot, 735 words, Muggle London

Summary: Mentally and physically beaten like a disobedient house elf under his father’s cruel command he still stood tall – and that’s how she recognized him. For, other than that, he looked nothing like the young man she used to know – and yet, he was still the same.

4) Terrible Angel - drabble, 328 words, Second Wizarding War

Summary: He stares into the jagged piece of a mirror amidst the rubble, cracks pulling across the dulled surface like a spider’s web, and all that’s alive in the unmoving reflection is a pair of silvery eyes, ablaze with the feverish intensity of hunger.

5) Wish - drabble, 539 words, Post-War, St. Mungo's

Summary: The sight that met his silver gaze spoke volumes: her breathing ragged, her eyes shut tightly, her skin flushed and damp with perspiration she lay in front of him on the bed. But this couldn’t honestly be real. She would never ask him to do that – she was Hermione Jean Granger, after all. This had to be a dream. And a vivid, visceral one at that.

6) Vertigo Kiss - smut trilogy, post-war, bdsm, WIP

Summary: Due to her prominent position as Minister for Magic, it has become increasingly difficult for Hermione to scratch the persistant itch that is her sexual appetite. An unmarried witch at 31, the wizarding dating world is quite unforgiving - the Muggle world, on the other hand, has no clue who Hermione Jean Granger is.

Recently divorced and in need of distraction, Draco is loath to try and find carnal pleasure amongst the wizarding kind. Too recognisable is his face, too eager for the spotlight and money are the willing witches - the Muggle world, on the other hand, has no clue who Draco Lucius Malfoy is.

An anonymous underground Leather and Lace sex-positive party in masks might be just the place to find a solution to such problems . . . .

7) 37 Snapshots of Dramione - Microfic May 2023, NSFW

smutty Dramione in their thirties - 37x50(ish) words

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cherrycrate · 1 year

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Hope is sealed in Pandora's Box - a dramione fanfiction

Update!!

"An unstoppable force meets an immovable object."

Being a healer at St. Mungo's meant living, breathing, bleeding research and work to ensure your patients would get to live another day.

However, while employed by the Malfoy family to heal young master Draco, Hermione felt like she needed a patient as much as he needed her. She would have to work hard to keep this need alive, while balancing her private life and Malfoy family history.

Hello!! Thanks for all those who always reblog, leave kudos and just generally read my story! It means the world to me that my work is seeing the light of day and that people seem to enjoy it??? Wow, anyways, as always a big smoochers to those who even just read the first sentence, love you guys!!

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14thgalerie · 1 year

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He waits, and he waits forever

• pairing: draco malfoy x hermione granger

• now playing: memory lane by haley joelle / weird by lizzy mcalpine

• word count: 229

• genre: angst

— a short scenario of my favorite character x character ship

There are moments in life that humans wish to relive. There are only two reasons we do so— to feel the emotions of our past or to change them.

And for Draco, it was the latter.

He desperately wishes to be relieved of the awful nightmares that plagued his mind during ice-cold nights. To be relieved of the taste of bitterness from his past.

Once appearing so gallant and proud becomes a shell, nothing but a boy inside. He holds fabric remnants of his lover, crying silently, longing to hold the warm body of its owner.

Swimming in the shores that held ashes. Drowning in hopes of carrying the waters that his lover is held in back home.

Sleeping in the cold cement, waiting patiently for his darling to come. For he is reminded of bright days when he used to see Hermione standing on said cement, basking in the sun.

Wails of sorrow and grief accompanied the tears that never seemed to stop flowing. Calling out the name that he grew to love but failed to keep. Hopelessly thinking that the heavens will hear his plea.

He waits and waits,

and waits once more.

Straining his ears because maybe, just maybe, the wind does carry the voices of our loved ones. And he will hear an answer.

As expected, there is nothing, and anguish thrums in his veins.

masterlist

#harry potter #dramione #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x hermione granger #draco x hermione #dramione angst #hermione granger angst #draco malfoy angst #dramione fanfic #dramione imagine #dramione fanfiction

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maple-unicorn · 1 month

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Author Reveals!

Filthy As She Was by acapulcogold

better with you (than alone) by @riddikuluspuff

The Shape of an Enemy by @charingfae

The Slaughter of Samhain by New_Ponyo

Where We Collide. by the_taco_dragon

Quid-ditch Dates by @greeninkredletters

The Enchanted Beanstalk Incident by @fleurdejasmine2023

Sentient Beings by On_a_whimbrel

A Purr’fect Coincidence by SybilEvergreen

Golden Girl on the Prowl by @autumnweeen

Not in Death, Just in Sleep by d_read64

Hearts at Stake by upturnedpanda

The Pullout by @madameindemnity @writer-swift-knight d_read64 and @maple-unicorn

Perfectly Misaligned by thistlethread

Home to You by chaosophia

A Familiar’s Guidance by @sad-millennial-writes

Never Thought I’d Meet You Here by @maple-unicorn

A Catch by silver_snidget

Five Malfoys in Love by mayrise

Intertwined Plans by Catteatime

https://archiveofourown.org/collections/DWS_Ice_Breaker

#dramione #draco malfoy #draco x hermione #hermione granger #ao3 fanfic #ao3 #dramione fandom #dramione ship #dramione fluff #ao3fic #dramione fanfiction #dramione smut #dramione angst #dramione fanfic #dhr #hermione x draco

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dramionewriterssociety · 21 days

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A Taylor Swift and Dramione themed writing & art fest!

Prompting opens April 13th 2024

Works due July 31st 2024

Written works and art are welcome!

#ao3 #dramione #dramione art #fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #dramione ship #dramione fandom #dramione angst #dramione fanfic #dramione fanart #dramione taylor swift #taylor swift #dramione smut #hermione x draco #dramione fluff #dramione writers #writing fest #ao3 fests

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pixydustworld · 1 year

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The war began on a Thursday, but if you asked Hermione Granger, the war had begun their first year. Eleven years old, knobby knees shaking as they faced Voldemort in the school dungeons.

A lifetime of fighting.

Everything after that blurred together, the gore of it all. Broken limbs and bleeding bodies — the screams of the dying, the weariness of the realization that the war was their new reality. That nothing would ever change. That the life they had before, was lost forever.

Child soldiers, fighting a war that wasn’t even their own, not really. Even Harry was part of a big picture, his role decided for him long before he was born. Defending a world that didn’t want her; the fighting was monotonous.

And then one morning, Hermione found Draco Malfoy’s broken body just beyond their property line, and that, in itself, was something new.

Something different.

She stood over him for a long time, watching as his chest struggled to breathe shallow breaths. In her mind, he hadn’t changed. She remembered him untouched by the war, a boy sneering in the school hallways.

That wasn’t the man who stared back at her.

He was frozen under her stare. Maybe he was shocked to see how she looked, too. Remembered her differently, didn’t remember her at all. Couldn’t believe that out of everyone, he’d had the terrible luck to be found by her.

Now, he’d never be free of her.

“Why are you here?” Unflinching. It was war, after all. And he was the enemy. She'd seen him on the other side of the battlefield too many times to convince herself of his innocence.

“Luna.” He gritted out. “She told me to come here if I ever changed my mind.” The snow beneath his body was stained with his blood, ruining the pristine surface. Dirtying it.

“Change your mind?”

“This is never going to end.” Malfoy said softly, “Not the with the way your people are fighting. I can help.”

“Help?” She felt like a broken children’s toy, repeating all of his words.

“Yes.” He said flatly. “Are you going to repeat that, too?”

“No.” Hermione snapped. “Why would Luna tell you to come here?”

He shrugged, looking perfect, even as he bled out in the snow. “Family has to stick together.”

Cousins, so similar, yet different. Same upturned nose, same white hair and pale skin, same glittering eyes — same blood, running through their veins. Hermione wondered if Malfoy had her smile, wondered if they both took their tea with 4 sugars.

Wondered if, maybe, they had been friends, once. Eager to see the other during the holidays, hours spent together, giggling over nothing and everything. Wondered, if perhaps, Luna Lovegood had unintentionally turned the tide in the war, granting them safe passage through the storm.

“This won’t be easy for you.” Hermione said, not to be cruel, but just to be honest, “Trust is earned, not given.”

As it turned out, it was easy for him.

Harry partnered with him on missions, their skills together in battle annoyingly good — Ron, who Hermione had once considered an impenetrable fortress of hatred against Malfoy, relented like an eager puppy (desperate for belly pats) and played Wizard Chess with him every evening.

He helped Neville in the garden, he laughed with Ginny while they made potions, he listened intently to Cho’s strategy meetings, asking the questions that were already on the tip of Hermione’s tongue.

Once, Hermione had overheard a conversation in the medical tent that made her head spin. “Malfoy, you’re such a good healer,” Padma had said,“I’m so glad you defected. I’m not sure what we would’ve done without you.”

“I think Granger was taking care of the lot of you, just fine on her own.” Had been his terrifying reply.

“Oh, yes!” Padma had rushed to say, “No, Hermione is brilliant.”

“She is.” Malfoy had said, not sounding afraid to admit it.

She wasn’t sure how to categorize her feelings for him, they were overpowering and heavy; she wanted to hold him close, she wanted to set him on fire. Hermione wanted, desperately wanted, a reason to not trust him — to prove to everyone that he hadn’t changed.

But, because the world was cruel, and Hermione was supremely unlucky, these opportunities never seemed arise.

Instead, Malfoy seemed to only further prove himself as a trusted member of the order, and Hermione was beginning to miserably feel as if she was the only person in the world who saw him for who he had been once, not who he was now.

“Maybe you should give him a break.” Ron said one evening, “He’s changed a lot.”

Ron, Ron was telling her to be nice to Malfoy — to find peace, to let everything go. Ron, who once had fashioned a dartboard with Malfoy’s face as the bullseye. Ron, who on more occasions than Hermione could count, had talked in great length and detail about what hexes he’d like to use on Malfoy, if given the opportunity.

“He hasn’t changed at all.” Hermione had replied.

It sounded like a lie, even to her own forgiving ears.

But the worst part was seeing him with Luna.

It seemed as if everything melted away in her presence, stripped down to the bones; Luna made him human, thawing the ice that had grown for years across his skin. Hermione often found them together, whispering over the fire — making up for wasted time, perhaps. Falling back in to their easy routine from their childhood.

He did have her smile, but he also had her laugh; a loud noise, cracking through the air.

He should laugh more often, Hermione found herself thinking. And then: Or he should never laugh at all.

She hoped his influence on everyone would fade, a temporary effect, but it only seemed to grow, evolving into something more as time passed. A part of them that she had to learn to accept.

In her worst moments, Hermione reminded herself of all the terrifying things she’d already done in her life: fought in a war, flown a dragon, lived in a tent with two teenage boys — facing Malfoy should be easy, in comparison.

Her breaking point came when he was chosen to lead a mission.

“You’re leaving me behind?”

He didn't look up from the map. “You’re too important for a simple raiding mission.”

“You don’t get to decide what I’m too important for.” Didn’t he understand? This was the only thing she was good at, fighting was the only thing she knew how to do anymore. If he took that away, Hermione would have nothing — and then, everyone would see that. See her for what she really was.

A smile, barely there. “I do.” He said, “As the leader. Deciding things is in the job description.”

“Fuck you,” Hermione spit. “You’re just doing this to control me.” He still wouldn’t look at her, which was infuriating. Malfoy was always looking at her, watching her every move — but now, in this moment, when she was so desperate for it, he refused to meet her eyes.

“I don’t think anyone could control you,” Malfoy sighed, looking tired. Perhaps his leadership role was taking time away from his beauty sleep, “Least of all me.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes.

“I understand that you hate me.” Malfoy continued, finally looking at her, “I get that. It’s a miracle that you even stand to breathe the same air as me. I was never good, not like you. But I’m trying.”

“Try harder.” Hermione said.

He rewarded her with a smile, then, wide and all encompassing. “You see everything so clearly, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“Hm.” He said, “Perhaps you should take a step back. You are the brightest thing I’ve ever seen, more powerful than any god I can think of, and you’re upset that I’m not bringing you on a pointless mission? Why would I force you to be near me? To trust me? To put your life in my hands?”

“That is not the point — ” She wanted to scream that she wanted to be near him, wanted to be by his side, wanted to be as far away from him as possible. Hermione survived because she understood, and it was terrifying, the way she didn’t understand him.

“That is the point I’m making, actually. You should see yourself the way others do. The way I do.” His eyes were glassy. “Golden. You’re untouchable.”

Hermione didn't feel that way, dirtied by the terribleness of the war, gaping wounds of loneliness littered across her skin; she felt like a poor imitation of herself, like someone had tried to draw her from memory. But here was Draco Malfoy of all people, seeing her clearly.

As if it was easy for him, simple, like breathing.

Maybe, there was truth in his words. She hated the nickname, felt like it was a cruel joke; but perhaps, it was given to her for a reason. See yourself the way others see you, the wind seemed to sigh. See yourself the way he sees you.

“I might not get a happy ending,” he was saying, “No one will build a statue in my honor. And that’s perfectly fine. My reward is here, in this moment. In the light in your eyes. In the realization that you’re brighter than all of us.”

She thought of how he’d changed, whether she liked to admit it or not; how she felt warm whenever he was near. A feeling she often confused with anger, but perhaps, it was something else, something new.

Something different.

And then, everything made sense, all at once.

A horrifying realization, but at least, it seemed, she wasn’t alone in this. Whatever rolling feeling she felt for him, he felt for her, too.

“Do you know why I came here?” Malfoy asked, voice soft, like she was a wounded animal that needed soothing. Maybe she was.

“For Luna.” Hermione said, that sharp edge she’d grown so familiar with lacking from her voice. “You told me when I found you.”

Malfoy grinned, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I thought I had died. I’d been wondering the woods for hours when you found me. Luna, she told me where to find the camp, but not how to get in. I’ve never been lucky.” He said, “It seemed a fitting fate for me, to die an inch away from salvation — but then, you found me. And I thought to myself: How lucky am I, to get a glimpse of happiness, before my suffering begins?”

The strange look on his face, how he’d looked so lost — frozen on the ground. Hermione had found him in the snow and everything had been set in motion.

“But then, you let me in,” he continued, “You hated me, but you let me in.”

Hermione was silent, watching as he ripped apart her memory, rearranging it to his version of events — she’d been prepared for a fight, but nothing could have prepared her for whatever this was.

“Luna told me to come when I was ready, but I didn’t come for her.”

“Who?” Hermione’s voice was stronger than she expected, unwavering. “Say it.”

“I came for you.” He said. “To be near you, that would be enough.”

“You never talked to me — ” Hermione’s head was spinning. The lengths that he’d gone to avoid her, to give her space to snarl at him, to hate him, were incomprehensible. He felt so deeply, yet seemed content to sit in his misery. To live through the pain.

Pain, that Hermione was beginning to recognize, as something familiar. Something she felt, too. Without even noticing it.

“I’m not a fool,” Malfoy said, eyes colder than a moment before, “I know how you feel about me. I wouldn’t subject you to my feelings, knowing you don’t reciprocate them.” He took a deep breath. “Being near you,” he repeated, “is enough.”

“What if it isn’t enough for me?”

The question left her chest without permission, bursting from its cage, hanging in the air between them. In the background, Hermione heard people moving about — heard Ron’s laugh, heard Harry’s voice in the cacophony; but in the tent, time seemed to slow.

Malfoy was very still. Watching her with sharp eyes, flickering across her face, looking for cracks to slip between.

Hadn’t she once been brave? A few minutes ago, even. When she’d stormed into his tent, ready for a fight? Where was that version of herself now?

“Your feelings aren’t completely unreciprocated.” Was the only thing that came out of Hermione’s mouth. She could feel the blush overtaking her face, splotching down her neck, could feel the way his eyes tracked over it.

Malfoy nodded. “I see.” He said quietly. And then, he was touching her. A gentle brush of fingers across her arm, warmth tracing after his touch. So soft, a juxtaposition to his dark uniform, the sharp knife strapped to his leg, wand holster on his arm.

His fingers trailed upwards, until they danced across her throat, pausing at her trembling pulse. “I will take whatever you give me.” He breathed, “I’ll never ask for more. I’ll be grateful for what I’m given, and I’ll know I’m not worthy enough for more.”

It sounded like a speech he’d rehearsed in the mirror — and perhaps it was. A mantra he repeated to himself, over and over. Remnant of his old life; one he’d effortlessly left behind.

For her, she realized. For the chance to be near her, to exist in the same place.

In the end, Hermione’s hand made the choice for her — reaching up to his, fingers sliding easily along his flesh. Feeling his pulse jumping on the inside of his wrist, a pattern she would soon know by heart.

“You can have everything.”

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rinamorten · 1 year

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She have tried not to imagine her future with him. She really did. She never was that type of girl who imagine her life with a boyfriend. Never thought about wedding or kids.

Till the moment she fell in love with him. Till the moment they tried.

Maybe that's why it hurts so bad to watch him with his new soon to be bride, Astoria Greengrass. He told her there's nothing he can do. But it's doesn't matter.

How she even could think about future with him, Draco Malfoy. She, the brightest witch of her age... She doesn't know.

That's why as she's laying on her bed she starts crying. She cried imaging the future she will never have. While her hearts slowly was tearing apart.

#dramione #harry potter #draco malfoy #draco x hermione #fanfiction #ao3 dramione #rina morten #ao3 fanfic #draco malfoy & hermione granger #draco & hermione #draco malfoy x hermione granger #dramione stories #dramione au #dramione angst #dramione sad drabble #dramione drabble story #dramione drabble #small story #astoria greengrass

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elenaitvon · 1 year

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A Poppy & A Prayer

Summary:

So despite everything, despite knowing what we’re doing is wrong on so many levels, we continue to pretend. We pretend as if there’s been some sort of a time glitch where the world around us has come to a complete standstill.

I am Draco and you are Hermione and we are in love.

*a short war-time romance told entirely through letters between D and H. Loosely based on The Great War by Taylor Swift*

Act I (available on AO3)

#dramione ao3 #dramione angst #dramione #draco x hermione #draco malfoy x hermione granger #dramione fanfiction #dramione fic

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givemequeen · 9 months

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The Great War: chapter 1 (Dramione)

Of all the ways she could have been captured, Hermione did not expect this to be it.

In a fucking muggle town in the middle of nowhere where she had been for the better part of a month searching for a magical artefact. She didn't even have her wand on her, she had left it behind in her tent, about a mile from the town. She had only been going into the town to get supplies when a bloody Voldemort sympathiser had spotted her and raised the alarm.

Her hands had been busy with brown paper bags filled with groceries, she didn't even hear the heels of the deatheater's boots against the wet cobblestone floor as they snuck up on her. In mere seconds she was on the floor having been hit by a stupefy and with half a dozen deatheaters around her, laughing at how easy it was to catch her. Her face had struck the floor with a loud smack, a gush of blood rushed out her nose, wetting her lip. She was sure her nose had broken.

"Didn't even put up a fight. What a stupid mudblood, who leaves their wand behind?" a deatheater jeered as he grabbed her hair and pulled her face back.

His breath was foul, teeth all rotten and black. Most likely from having spent the better part of a decade in Azkaban. He pressed his wand into her jugular, threatening with a stupid sneer to kill her. "How easy would it be to just slit your throat open, huh sweetheart? Let you bleed out over this pretty floor." he laughed, a toe-curling high pitched noise.

"C'mon Macnair. We have got to let Malfoy know." another deatheater said. He stepped forward and pulled the deatheater who had been called Macnair back. Hermione hit the ground again, she bit her lip to avoid yelling out in pain.

Macnair placed his boot on her back, holding her down. "No. Lets go straight to the Dark Lord." he said, his voice drowning in greed. "Selwyn, we will gain his favour."

"Do you know what Malfoy will do to us if he finds out we had Granger and didn't tell him? That we went over his head?" another deatheater spoke up. "He will hang us all."

Hermione heard as an unsure murmur passed between the deatheaters. She turned her head slightly to get a glimpse of who she was dealing with. The group was large but with her wand she could have taken them on and escaped, maybe with a couple of injures, but definitely alive.

"We should call Malfoy." another deatheater spoke.

"I said no! Call the Dark Lord." Macnair snarled, his wand held high.

"Lower your wand." Selwyn said, his voice wary.

The deatheaters began pulling out their wands and splitting into two groups, those who wanted to call Malfoy and those who wanted to call the Dark Lord. Hermione tested out the extent of the spell that had hit her square in the back, if they could just prolong this enough for the effects of the spell to wear off maybe she could make a run for it. She remained still and silent as if any move would remind them of her existence.

A can of food she had bought had rolled down the road and above it stood a deatheater Hermione recognised from the Battle of Hogwarts. He had looked young then, now he looked as though he had aged 20 years in the span of 5. Deep lines etched across his forehead and around his eyes, a testament to the stress and uncertainty that had plagued his youthful existence. His face was littered with scars, some old, some fresh.

He was the first to fire a spell, the arguing had gotten loud and he had gotten spooked like a horse in a thunderstorm.

A flash of red flew above Hermione and hit one of the deatheaters square in the face. The other deatheaters immediately began firing at everyone on sight. She closed her eyes as a dozen other curses flew over her and began formulating a plan. Her ability to form plans under highly stressful situations like this one is what had made her the Order's best spy. Now that she was regaining some sensation in her legs, she tried wiggling her toes. She attempted to asses the damage on her face, nothing a quick spell wouldn't fix.

The deatheaters had knocked out two of their own, improving Hermione's survival chances. Her eyes swept the scene, they were clearly divided and it seemed as though they had forgotten about her in the heat of the battle. She could feel her arms, sensation had returned to her fingers. Her nose had stopped bleeding, but the pain was still there. She could make a run for it.

All she had to do was push herself off the ground, maybe a couple more spells would knock out another two deatheaters, then she would only have to fight two of them as she made a run for it. Despite being a very skilful witch, The Order had trained her in "muggle combat". If she could just get up maybe she could apparate to the tent, grab her wand, kill the remaining deatheaters and apparate to a safe house.

A loud thump resounded, and a body collapsed beside Hermione, unconscious. It was the deatheater who had fired the first shot. He was facing her, his eyes blank.

It was now or never.

Hermione pushed off the ground with all her strength, landing on her feet. A sharp pain shot up her leg, she had sprained her ankle in the fall. But there was no time to think about that. Without looking back, she sprinted down the road and into an alleyway where she could apparate from. She turned the corner as the deatheaters yelled behind her, their spells now focused on her.

She glanced backwards, hoping to get a better understanding as to who was left when all of a sudden she slammed into a wall. She cursed, holding her nose as a jolt of pain shot through her face again, and looked up. There had been no wall there before.

"Going somewhere, Granger?" a familiar voice said moments before everything turned black.

#dramione #dramione angst #dramione fluff #dramione smut #dramione fic #dramione fanfic #dramione fanfic recs #dramione fic recs #hermione x draco #hermione x draco angst #hermione x draco fluff #hermione x draco smut #hermione x draco fic #hermione x draco fanfic #hermione x draco fic rec #hermione x draco fanfic recs #voldemort wins au #ao3

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