dramioneimagines
what if draco & hermione...
a blog dedicated to dramione and feltson, where you can find headcanons, imagines, edits, fic recs, playlists, and many more.
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THE DUCK
08.11.2018
tom felton and emma watson just broke the internet, saved and revived the harry potter fandom
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Follow up to the already epic pajama guitar pic of '19.. how did I miss this back in Feb?? This is so reminiscent of Sprousehart back when Cole would photograph the most beautiful shots of his "friend" Lili.
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"𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘌𝘮𝘮𝘢. 𝘞𝘦 𝘥𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘵 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺. 𝘞𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵."
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Oh man.
Tom Felton and Emma Watson being adorable human beans.
I mean, okay, I’m going to be that person for a second. I don’t typically comment or participate in the Feltson train, mainly because shipping real people is a little—mm. It’s not my jam unless those presumed to be together actually are together or don’t insist otherwise.
I occasionally post Feltson things because of the Draco/Hermione angle and generally as a reflection of their fictional counterparts. To support them together as their actual selves has always made me a bit uncomfortable, especially because Tom has occasionally been shown to be as uncomfortable when pressed on their status.
That said, there’s something curious about them. The whole Draco/Hermione thing aside, I find it wholesome and wonderful that they’re as close as they are. I can understand why people hope dearly that there’s something worth exploring between them, especially since most people can project themselves in that situation: if we’ve grown up together, gotten close, are both attractive, then what harm is there to wonder if you’ve got potential with that person?
His latest caption means jack to me, to be honest. His sign off is typical for Brits (x). What I personally find interesting is that he’s actually posted a picture of them together and tagged Emma, as it’s always been Emma doing the posting where the two are or inferred to be hanging out. That’s not to say it’s indicative of anything more than friendship at all, but honestly it makes me giggle.
Men are rather intentional creatures, whether it’s by method of omission or inclusion. For somebody who’s always seemed motivated to discourage speculation, this is kind of the wrong way to go about it; he’s got to know that posting that particular picture is ripe for overanalysis.
I do love their friendship. It’s honestly the sweetest thing—how they can transcend distance and make the effort to see each other and keep in touch, even though the both of them are so busy. Personally, that’s the beauty of Feltson for me, and it’s admirable. However, I’m not at all surprised that people wonder, and the excitement for the latest Instagram posting is rather contagious, if only for the fact that there are more questions than answers.
Even if they were regular people, it’s not that difficult to see the potential they’ve inadvertently developed, and that’s really the driving force and fanaticism around them. How is that not a beautiful thing to ponder?
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“We do see each other quite a lot actually. We just don’t always post pictures about it”
- Tom Felton
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Draco & Hermione | Hurt Me Again
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Reminders
Takes place some time after Trust. Part 4/? of my little Veela Draco series.
He was brooding today, she noted. She’d caught him absently scratching at the faded Dark Mark throughout the day as his mood had gotten ever darker. His birthday had been the week before so she had a feeling that it was the anniversary of the evening he was branded.
She crept to the window and peeked out. In the moonlight she could just make him out as he sat with his feet up on the railing, a glass of firewhiskey on the arm of the chair, platinum blonde hair catching the moonbeams.
Silently she opened the door and slipped out onto the porch, padding her way over and sitting on the empty arm.
“Hey,” she murmured,
“Hey,” he replied, just as quietly before draining the rest of his drink and lowering the glass to the floor.
Her fingers drifted through his hair until some of the visible tension faded.
A sigh emitted from his perfect lips as he pulled her hand down to nuzzle it and play with her fingers. Before getting together with him she never would have imagined him to be so affectionate. It made her wonder if that was because she was the type to need affection, so his nature inclined him to be that way with her.
She wanted to ask him a thousand questions but could see that tonight was not the night to be pushy with them. She’d learned through a very small trial and error phase of when and when not to push. Something in the back of her mind was telling her to wait, and for once it felt right to do so.
He eventually pulled her into his lap, her legs dangling over the arm and her head on his shoulder. His fingers traced nonsensical patterns across her abdomen as they watched the trees sway, leaves dancing in the breeze.
He ran the tip of his nose along her ear before muttering, “I was marked around this time, ten years ago.”
It felt like ten years ago was more like a thousand years and yesterday all at the same time.
She wanted to see his face but had the feeling that this was one of those conversations best had with a lack of pressure that a gaze could bring.
“Do you think about it often?” she asked quietly.
She felt him shrug, “Sometimes. Always on the anniversary.”
The conversation drifted as she debating proposing the idea she’d been mulling over. He was Pureblooded and fairly conservative so she was hesitant to bring it up otherwise, not wanting him to think she didn’t want to see it and be reminded by it. She took a breath and bit the bullet.
“Have you ever thought about getting a tattoo to cover it up?” she asked, nonchalant as possible.
He paused before asking, “What’s a tattoo?”
She thought for a second, “Remember that bloke we saw last week when we were getting curry? The one with all the drawings down his arm?”
It was quiet while she let him think on it.
“Do you want me to cover it up?” he finally asked.
Indifference painted her features earnestly when she told him, “It doesn’t matter to me. I just didn’t know if you knew it was an option or not.”
“Promise?” he asked, hesitant.
“I swear to you,” she said, squeezing his hand momentarily before allowing it to go back tracing their patterns.
“I almost don’t think I should. Having it is like a penance for me to pay for doing those things,” he confessed.
“Draco. If someone cut off your arm five minutes from now would you forget any of what happened? Would you feel any differently?” she asked.
Her mane jostled as he shook his head against it sharply.
“Alright then. The memory of it will stay with you for forever, there’s no reason to heap extra on top of that,” she soothed.
He relaxed underneath her again. It was quiet for a while before he posed another question next to her ear, his warm breath making her want to shiver.
“Have you ever thought about getting one?” curiosity colored his tone.
“Sometimes. I have a hard time trying to decide what to get. I’ve entertained getting one of that white Ironbelly we rode on when we broke out of Gringotts years ago,” she said.
“You’ve thought about getting a pale dragon tattooed onto you,” he said with faint amusement.
“Yes,” a grin curled her lips.
She felt his mouth turn into a satisfied, yet amused smile.
“So they can be of anything?” he asked, she could tell that she’d gotten him thinking on it.
She nodded.
“And it doesn’t have to mean anything to anyone except me?” he continued.
Another nod.
“How does it get on there? I know it can’t be some sort of spell since that Muggle bloke had them. Does someone just get quill happy with some everlasting ink or something?” he hypothesized.
She chuckled and explained the art of modern tattooing.
A low hum came from him and it was obvious the idea of his skin being pricked thousands and thousands of times wasn’t quite appealing. She’d start thinking more seriously on what she was going to get and let him watch first if he was still reluctant. She hadn’t been joking about the Ironbelly, though. Freeing that dragon from the bank had been deeply satisfying, even now she still felt pleased over it.
Rain began to patter down onto the earth until it became a downpour. When Draco’s shoes started to get wet he helped her back up and stood. Not giving her the chance to move far, he picked her up, bridal style and carried her back in, to bed.
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draco and hermione
they don’t have a place here. not now. war is no place for love.
but after the war, there is reconstruction.
after the war, there are beginnings.
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Emma Watson and Tom Felton, 18.12.2019
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“Princesses fall for princes and live happily ever after.
But how does fate treat
the princess who falls
for the monstrous dragon?”
- In the end, the dragon will burn her down.
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Here’s a little juicy something...
Almost as soon as they had entered, Draco found himself faced with all kinds of toys, lingerie, and literature about all matters related to sex. If the dizzying feeling from before had made it hard to focus, it was nothing compared to standing in a room, surrounded by Granger’s scent and all sorts of erotic equipment which he just itched to immediately put to use.
His already colourful imagination went into overdrive. A bright pink vibrator sat on one of the white shelves, but instead he saw Granger on her desk chair pleasuring herself, legs spread wide, cheeks flushed. He turned and saw a crotchless teddy. Immediately, the vision of Granger standing in a library entered his mind; she was wearing nothing but that piece of black lace, reaching for a book conveniently placed on a higher shelf which gave him the optimal view.
Someone laughed and Draco froze, suddenly and awkwardly aware that he was not alone and that he really needed to get ahold of himself. He shifted around, thinking of Snape in the same teddy. Ah… much, much better… sort of. He almost grimaced; this was almost like getting rid of a Boggart. A sex boggart. Yuck.
Granger and the shop assistant were talking animatedly. Draco barely managed a proper greeting. The way she was leaning against the counter supplied his fantasy with too much material. It was as though his body was battling a fever. His limbs were turning hot and numb (except for one appendage), and his mind started slipping. All he was capable of thinking was Granger in stockings… Granger with nipple tassels… Granger in that dress… over the counter… legs spread and his cock…
Desperate for a distraction, he turned around and scanned the bookshelves behind him. His eyes immediately found another copy of Clit-o-logy, the book that he had left unopened in the bag in his dressing room after the first night. His poor mind jumped to the dream in the potions classroom where his nocturnal-self had been dedicated to comprehensively studying the female sexual organ.
The blood left his brain.
Bloody fuck.
His hands, already hot, were getting clammy. His fingernails dug deeper and deeper into his palm. He was desperate for it to hurt; for any feeling other than arousal, really. To keep his mind out of the gutter. Away from thinking about sex in general. Or sex with Granger in particular. Or how Granger looked when she was stark naked, lying on the floor, her lips wet and swollen, her clit…
Draco bit into his cheek as hard as he could. The sharp sting made him wince. Granger and the woman behind the counter turned to him. The woman frowned.
‘Everything alrigh’, luv?’ she said in a thick Cockney accent, raising a thin eyebrow.
He cleared his throat. ‘Fine, thank you.’ He thanked the stars above that he had managed to perform a concealing charm on his trousers just in time. Otherwise, he would have been in a sticky situation right about now.
Granger regarded him with a strange expression. Just like earlier, he was magically drawn to her eyes. He found himself wondering why had never noticed how exceptionally dark they were. He couldn’t even tell if they were dark brown or black. They seemed so deep and full of knowledge that, for a second, he worried whether she might be a legilimens. The thought that she might see to the bottom of his soul appeared terrifying and comforting at the same time.
Granger, who had been staring back at him, abruptly turned towards the woman and away from him. Draco kept his eyes on her. The slightly shorter hairs on the nape of her neck were standing erect. The skin underneath looked soft and rosy. He had to fight the burning urge to reach out and caress her right there.
‘We were looking for an umbrella, actually.’ Her voice sounded oddly strained.
[read the current chapter of Sh-Shopping Spree here | start from the beginning here - PSA: ch. 1 about to be replaced!]
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"Safe"
Draco's eyes searched for one thing as the smoke cleared across the battlefield. Hogwarts grounds was wrecked; bodies lay motionless on the softened ground and the amount of destruction to the castle's walls were horrendous. Parts of the antique stone lay thrown across the acreage that Hogwarts claimed and yet, Draco only cared about one thing - or person. After what seemed like forever, his eyes land on the bushy-haired brunette and he let out a sigh of relief.
"You're alive," he breathes as they near one another, their arms instinctly wrapping around each other.
Hermione's head nestles into the crook of Draco's neck. "We're alive." She agrees, breathing in deeply. Even after fighting for hours; Draco still smelt heavenly. "I was so worried-"
"I know," he says as he pulls her face up to his. "I love you." Draco whispers before pulling her lips to his gently.
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Prompts! "No, no ,no stay with me. Don't close your eyes." Dramione
“Have I ever told you about your eyes?”
There was a long sigh.
“Yes. Several times now.”
“They’re so brown…. Chocolate with honey. Pure amber in the sunlight. They light up as though they have stars in them when you’re happy.” Draco gave a long deep sigh. “I love them. Adore them, really. I would kill a man for your eyes.”
“Yes. You mentioned that earlier when I came to get you from the bar.”
“And your hair—“ he caught hold of a lamp post with one hand and proceeded to swing around and around it. “I used to think it was hideous. Like a doxy nest. Sometimes”—his voice dropped into a stage whisper so loud it bounced off the buildings—“I think it’s sentient.”
He twirled around the lamp post again before straightening unsteadily.
“But your hair has grown on me too. Pucey made a comment about it last week, and I hexed that bastard so hard his descendants will have boils.” He sneered for a moment before his expression transformed into a smug smile.
“Teach that fucking tosser to say a word about my girlfriend.” He gave a deep bow from the waist and nearly face-planted into the pavement.
Hermione caught him by his scarf and straightened him, gripping him by the waist.
“Yes. I’m sure you felt very chivalrous.” Her voice was dry.
He nodded heavily, wrapping his arm tightly around her shoulders and drawing himself up. “I am a gentleman.”
There was a pause.
“I try—to be a gentleman.” His voice wobbled.
She looked up sharply and found him staring down at her, his eyes were large and luminous, and beginning to swim. His jaw was trembling.
“God—Granger—“ his voice cracked, “I’m so sorry for everything I did at school—how I treated you—I know you’ll probably never be able to forgive me—“
She cut him off abruptly. “What do you think of my ears?”
He blinked, looking confused and sidetracked. “Your—ears?”
“Yes. What do you think of them?” She walked him rapidly down the street while speaking. “I wonder if maybe they’re a bit too big.”
“No! Your ears are perfect. Like—little pink sea shells. But…” his voice was loudly conspiratorial, “my favourite thing about you,” he was getting louder with every word as they turned the corner, “despite how much I love your eyes and ears, are the little noises you make when I lick your cu—“
She clamped her hand firmly over his mouth and held it there until his jaw stopped moving. She glared at him as she pulled her hand away.
“Will you keep quiet, you imbecile?” Her face was visibly scarlet even in the moonlight.
“Rude,” he muttered under his breath. “Rude. Rude.”
He pulled away from her sulkily, walking over to a wall and proceeding to slide down it and sit on the damp pavement, his eyes closing.
Hermione groaned and shook him, trying to pull him to his feet. “No, no, no stay with me. Don’t close your eyes.“
“Leave me alone, witch. I’m taken,” he said. His voice was deeply slurred and he slumped down further.
Hermione started to reach into her jacket but paused and glanced over her shoulder. A matronly woman was peering disapprovingly at them through the curtains of her house. Hermione withdrew her hand with a sigh.
“Come on.” She grunted and nearly fell backwards as she dragged him up off the ground.
His head lolled forward and he leaned heavily against her, nearly folding her over as she stumbled down the street past three more townhouses and then laboriously dragged him up the steps to the front door.
“Here we are.” Her voice was breathless as she dug out a key and they fell through the doorway.
She lay panting for several seconds and then rolled him out of the way and kicked the door closed before drawing her wand. She flicked it and carefully levitated his limp body up the stairs and into the bedroom. Pulling back the comforter, she dropped him down onto the bed, pulled off his shoes, slipped his tie off, and tucked him carefully in.
She went to the bathroom to brush her teeth and change into pyjamas before crawling in beside him, curling up against his shoulder. His arm immediately shifted and wrapped around her.
She lifted her head, resting her hand on his chest as she kissed him chastely on the lips.
Draco’s eyes instantly popped open and he withdrew his arm with a jerk, nearly toppling off the bed.
Hermione sat up and watched as he quickly sat up, snatching up his pillow and holding it against his chest as he stood. He glanced around the bedroom and hurried over to the rug on the far side. He looked up and down the floor and finally dropped the pillow in one corner and proceeded to lie down there, bunching the pillow under his head and closing his eyes.
Hermione stared at him for several seconds before finally speaking. “Draco… what are you doing? Come back to bed. Aren’t you going to sleep with me?”
His eyes opened and he looked at her blearily from across the room. He shook his head so firmly his shoulders swung with each movement. “No. I’m sure you’re a very nice person, but I have a girlfriend. I’m not fucking it up. Not for anyone.”
He closed his eyes again and went to sleep.
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Draco was still. He was breathing, she could tell, but hadn’t shifted in response to the sight of her, or in reaction to the string that shot out of his bag.
Hermione stared, her breath caught in her throat as she waited for something, anything.
All she received was a toss of his head, as he shook his overgrown hair from his eyes. He squared his jaw and flexed a brow, as if to dare her to speak first. From how bright his eyes were in the dark, Hermione had peace of mind.
The silver strand hung like gossamer webs, flared out from the leather of his bag. She wanted to reach out, to see what the ring had led her to. But that was definitely an invasion of privacy, which was his thing.
He hadn’t said anything, just glared daggers up at her as she closed the gap.
“What happened?”
“I tripped.” He bit back, a hiss let out between his teeth.
Chapter Sixteen; Find A Way To Live On.
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DRAMIONE SPEEDPAINT ~ Draco and Hermione (Made in Procreate)
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dramione + affection
Hermione loves kissing
It doesn't matter if it's a cheek kiss, lips, neck - as long as Draco's body is involved
She snags her chance for a kiss anytime she can
When he's sleeping, studying, eating... the list is endless
Hermione's kisses drive Draco wild
They're slow and sensual; completely full of passion and love
Draco, on the other hand, can't seem to stay in place
Her body is like a paradise that he wants to visit endlessly
Draco pays attention to her neck and her collarbone a LOT
And Hermione can't complain
His hands travel her body and she finds herself begging him for more; on more than one occasion
PDA isn't something the two are very fond of BUT:
Don't let anyone else make moves on either one
Draco is quick to wrap his arms around her, calling her all the "cringy pet names" they usually avoid
Hermione might honestly just stun them - who knows?
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