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whimsymanaged · 1 year

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Prompt: Marriage Law (@DramionePrompts on Twitter)

NSFW / rated E

“Malfoy, wake up. I can hear your mum coming down the hallway,” Hermione hissed, poking her new husband in the shoulder.

Malfoy grumbled under his breath and turned over, stuffing his face into one of many plush down pillows.

“Malfoy!”

She had gotten married to the git the afternoon before, two days before the Ministry’s ridiculous marriage law came into effect.

There was no love between them, but they were partners at work and had both hated the idea of being forced to marry somebody they didn’t even know.

The agreement was that they would stay married for six months while they worked to overturn the current law, and then they’d happily go their separate ways, free to be with whomever they really wanted.

The biggest kink in the plan: Narcissa Malfoy.

The Malfoy matriarch didn’t believe Malfoy and Hermione were in love for a second, which Hermione supposed was probably fair, and she had been giving Hermione a hard time since the couple had come home from registering their marriage the afternoon before.

“Just pretend to be asleep, Granger,” Malfoy muttered.

“She’ll just come back later and try to interrogate me again!” Hermione knew there was a desperate edge to her voice, but she didn’t care. She didn’t want to have to deal with Narcissa’s confrontations for six months.

Malfoy rolled onto his back and opened one eye to glare at her. “Why are you even—”

Before he could finish his sentence, there was a knock on the door before the doorknob started turning. And Hermione tried to think fast, she really did, but only one solution came to mind.

She threw her leg over Malfoy’s to straddle him and dragged the covers up so their hips were shielded from view. Malfoy’s eyes snapped open, growing impossibly wide, just as his mother poked her head into the room.

And Hermione figured she might as well go all the way with this.

She moved her hips against Draco’s in an imitation of fucking, and she heard Narcissa gasp, “Oh! Excuse me,” before retreating, the door clicking shut behind her.

Hermione’s shoulders slumped with relief. Hopefully that had done enough to convince Narcissa that they were—

Belatedly, she realised that Malfoy’s fingers were digging into her hips, and that the bulge pressing through his boxer-briefs against her sleep shorts was very hard.

“What the fuck,” Malfoy hissed. “You can’t just—”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Her face was hot. “Let me…”

She moved to get off him, but the movement only rubbed her clit against his erection, and she gasped.

The sound he made was strangled. “Don’t. Move.”

“I have to move if I’m going to get off!”

“If you move,” he said through clenched teeth, “I’m going to get off.”

The pressure of his cock against her center was sending heat licking up her spine. When was the last time she’d had sex? Forever ago.

And Malfoy was a lot of things, but unattractive wasn’t one of them. She could admit that much; he’d starred in her fantasies enough.

“Granger.” He was growling now. But his hands weren’t holding her still. In fact, he was rocking his hips up into hers, using his grip on her to control the pace, the angle, and her lips parted, because fuck, if it didn’t feel really fucking great.

“You said—” She cut herself off with a whimper, and she reached down to squeeze his forearms as she rolled her hips faster.

“We work together. We work together,” he was muttering to himself even as his cheeks began to grow flushed. “Holy fucking Merlin, you’re so soft.”

She leaned forward and pressed her hands to the mattress, and both their gazes went to where their hips met, to where the ridge of his cock was dragging against her again and again.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered raggedly.

She didn’t.

Instead, she gasped out, “I’m so wet,” earning her a long groan from Malfoy.

“Can you come like this?” he asked urgently. “What do you need?”

She shook her head, then nodded. She didn’t know what he was asking. “Nothing. Yes. Are you close?”

“Embarrassingly so,” he bit out, and she really didn’t know how much of the dampness visible on his boxer-briefs was from her and how much was from his own cock leaking. His eyelids fluttered. “Tell me when.”

She was moaning so much. So much and she couldn’t stop. But so was he.

She bit down on her lip as he thrust up against her harder, faster, and she heard him whisper, “That’s it, Granger,” as he lifted his hands and pinched both her nipples through her top.

She tumbled over the edge with a cry, her hips still moving, riding him through her orgasm.

“Good girl,” he groaned. “Good fucking girl.”

And with one hand back on her hip, he pounded up against her relentlessly until his head dropped back, his hands squeezing, and she felt the warmth of his come at the same time a primal sound was ripped from his throat.

She dropped onto the bed next to him, trying to catch her breath.

“Fuck me,” she whispered.

There was a low laugh from her husband, and then, “Whenever you want me to do that, Granger, just let me know.”

#dramione #draco malfoy #hermione granger #draco x hermione #dhr #drabble #fanfiction #from twitter

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sailtomarina · 9 months

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Choose me

They started over a shared appreciation over a particular bottle of merlot Malfoy insisted was far too good to waste on “unappreciative plebs,” not that Hermione knew the difference. To her, all that mattered was that the wine went down without a bite and paired well with her charcuterie.

One glass became two, then a whole second bottle, and then Hermione realized she’d had far too much to drink in too short a span of time. The words spilled out of her before she could take them back.

“Gods, you are so pretty. And smart. Did I ever tell you how glad I am that you can actually argue with me?”

Not five minutes later, he pressed her into the booth with the full length of his body and she drank him in as ardently as she had the wine.

One hour and a couple of sober-up potions later, they yanked off their clothes in Malfoy’s ridiculous flat and didn’t leave for the rest of the weekend.

One month later, Theo dubbed her “Granger the Conquerer” for her relentless dominance of the games at their weekly get together. That was three times as fast as it had taken him to accept Blaise in the Snake Pit, and they were dating.

Three years later, a still alive and now wizened Crookshanks joined them in bed with a box in his mouth which he distastefully spit out onto Hermione’s lap while Draco struggled to hold back a laugh. He’d ply the familiar with his favorite treats later.

“…Draco.” She uttered his name in a disbelieving whisper and stared down at the sapphire velvet as if afraid it might transform into a serpent and bite her.

“Hermione.”

In the span of the five minutes it took for him to take up the ring and—smirk and dimples fully present—to ask her to “Choose me,” Hermione had turned into a blubbering mess of a witch with curls double their usual size and an alarmed cat at the end of the bed unsure whether to escape or maul the human who’d tricked him into taking part.

WC 350

Just another attempt at trying to write short pieces while still conveying the mood/setting I want. It's so, so hard to not fill in the gaps. I don't know how other writers do it!

Twitter prompt from DramionePrompts

#dramione #dramione prompt #harry potter fanfiction #dhr fanfiction #draco malfoy x hermione granger #hermione granger #draco malfoy

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draqo-pctter · 1 year

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your bed is too small a dramione microfic/ words 474 tags: eighth year, shared dorm, flirtatious hermione prompt taken from dramioneprompts on twitter

Draco hadn’t planned on Hermione inviting herself into his room that Saturday night, almost bribing him with a bottle of firewhiskey and two glasses.

“The Official Guide to the Quidditch World Cup?” Hermione had asked, holding up the book. He’d been standing by the dresser, awestruck, watching her inspect nicknacks and pursing her lips at his book choices.

“What?” Draco hoped she couldn’t hear the nerves tickling their way up his spine and down his arms.

Hermione had changed out of her school robes into a faded t-shirt and maroon joggers. They hung low on her hips, the hem rolled once, and made his mouth run dry.

“Nothing,” she smiled at him, her eyes sparkling as she set the book back on top of the stack by the window. “It’s cute.”

The last thing Draco wanted Hermione to call him was cute. He took a steadying breath as he turned to face her, almost collapsing when he realized she’d sat on his bed.

“Here you–”

“I didn’t realize you slept with a stuffed animal.”

Draco stopped mid-stride, his arm still outstretched in a move to offer Hermione her glass.

“Thanks,” Hermione leaned forward and took her firewhiskey with her right hand while holding the stuffed hippogriff in her left.

Hermione took a sip of the whiskey and shook the stuffed animal as if to remind Draco it existed. As if he needed a reminder.

“Um,” Draco leaned awkwardly against the bookcase, hoping it would keep him supported. “Pansy got it for me, as a joke.”

Hermione laughed softly before setting it back down on his pillow. She looked cute sitting there on his bed, running her hands over the green and black duvet.

“You seem nervous,” Hermione deadpanned with a raised eyebrow. Fuck that damned eyebrow. It would be the death of him.

“I, um,” Draco scratched at the back of his neck, searching for anything else to look at except the frustratingly beautiful witch sitting on his bed. “I’m never nervous. Surprised, maybe. But never nervous.”

Hermione hummed contentedly at his answer, taking another sip of her drink. Something almost evil flashed in her eyes before she spoke again.

“Your bed is too small.”

Draco choked on air.

“Pardon me?”

Hermione set her glass down on his nightstand and leaned back to rest on her elbows.

“For you to have women over every weekend,” she was challenging him. But to what, Draco didn’t know. “Comfortably, at least.”

It wasn’t every weekend. Only when Hermione left to visit Harry sometimes, or when she went into Hogsmeade with their schoolmates.

“I can assure you, Granger,” a smirk wanted desperately to tug at his lips. “I can do many things quite comfortably on that bed.”

When Hermione squared her shoulders to him, something almost lustful passed over her features.

“Like what?”

Draco nearly dropped his firewhiskey.

follow me on twitter where i post other dramione ramblings & updates on my wips on archive of our own

#dramione #dhr #dramione microfic #dramione fanfic #dramione fanfiction #dramione drabble #dhr fanfic #dhr fanfiction #dramione eighth year #draco malfoy #hermione granger #hermione x draco #draco x hermione #shared dorm #ohthedrarry ao3 #draqo_pctter twitter #draqo-pctter tumblr

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gardenattwilight · 1 year

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Prompt from DramionePrompts on Twitter: Hogsmeade date. Originally posted on Twitter.

“We need a break.”

“What?” Draco bolted upright, distraught.

“Sorry,” Hermione said quickly, “I mean we should do something… outside the bedroom.”

“Like what?”

“Maybe a Hogsmeade date? Or a walk in the Forest?”

“You’d be seen with me in Hogsmeade?”

“Of course I would.”

#dramione #dramione fanfiction #dramione fluff #dramione twitter #dramione drabble #dramione ff #draco malfoy x hermione granger #dmhg #dhr fandom #dhr #dhr fanfiction

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echoesofmyfootsteps · 1 year

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Dhr Drabble: It’s a boy

Gonna start posting some of my drabbles here, since more people are migrating. Might as well spruce the old blog up a little, yeah?

Inspired DramionePrompts on Twitter (links at end)

It’s a boy// Crookshanks POV

***

You’ve let a new person in on a rainy night, and they look like I do when I’m wet. Sullen and unhappy and deflated.

But you do that thing—directing your wand to the interloper and fluffing their pale hair into something resembling a tassled pillow I would tear to shreds.

And then he’s no longer deflated.

He. It’s a boy.

My back arches; he narrows his eyes at me as you take his cloak away.

His kind come and go. I don’t trust them. (Don’t trust anyone but you, really.)

“Stop being so surly,” you scold me half heartedly, nuzzling me as you set me down further away. But I turn to eye him. Standing sentinel in the doorway to your bedroom.

They’ve left you sad. You’ve told me all about the way they’ve used you—for your mind, your power, your fame—and yet you’ve tried to find excuses for them.

But I don’t need to. I can hate them, and my opinion always wins.

Because in the end, I’m the only one you really trust, too.

“I don’t think he likes me,” the boy watches me.

“Nonsense!” you laugh.

At least you’re not stupid, I say in his direction, lips pulled back, teeth showing.

You widen your eyes at me.

With crossed arms the boy stares a moment longer and turns back to you. Ignoring me.

But I keep watching:

Him wandering stiffly through the flat.

The muscles in his temple ticking.

The way he keeps his hands conspicuously pocketed; how his feet give you plenty of space (the shine of his shoes makes me want to throw up on them), but always point toward you.

I watch him watch you. And I see his sullenness melt with the wine and every smile you give.

I can say one thing for him: he’s careful.

And his eyes always return to yours.

As you both sit on the sofa, a feather dislodges, drifting near me in the air. I paw at it, pounce, roll, lose interest.

When I turn back, your legs are nearly entangled—the perfect landing spot.

This space is mine, I say to him once I’ve jumped between you.

He has the decency to back up. “I see.”

“Crooks, you absolute menace.” You try to shove me off the couch.

How dare, Mother. How dare. I bat at you with my paw. I choose violence.

“It’s fine,” says the boy. “I should be going.”

But I watch from the ground as he swallows, pulls his jumper cuffs back down, clears his throat, finally leans in. He tucks your hair behind your ear and kisses you on the forehead. “May I take you out tomorrow?”

Then I see it. The happy anticipation in your eyes. None of the anxiety you’ve had with the others. “All right.”

He lingers, close to leaning in a second time, until you jump up in alarm, nearly smacking into his jaw. “Your cloak!”

As soon as you turn, he allows himself a private smile.

What are you laughing about? I ask.

He evaluates me. “I’m not making fun, I swear.“ Head turned to where you disappeared, he says, “I see why you’re protective.”

I sit closer to him. She’s special. And she’s mine.

“We are of the same mind.” He lifts an eyebrow. “I hope we can be friends.”

He keeps his distance (which I appreciate more than I let on) and nods at my ambivalence.

I’m reserving judgment, I mew, just before he exits. You’re welcome!

You close the door with a sigh, and then spot me.

I’m hungry.

“Oh, Crooks.” Your body sags. “How could you.”

You scoop me up, ignoring my plea, fingernails in my neck fur, kisses near my ears. “It was going so well. Please give him a chance.” More kisses. “Did you have any thoughts?” You whisper the words into my scruff.

I purr, waiting for you to say what you want.

“He makes me hope.” I continue purring as you absently scratch my ears.

I’ll give him a chance. But if I suspect anything, I’m clawing his eyes out in his sleep.

“Fair,” you say. “Now. Some food.”

I lead the way, tail high.

We two trust each other. Implicitly, completely, exclusively.

Tonight, though, I wonder for the first time if perhaps there will be room for a third.

//end

Original drabble:

#dramione #drabble #dhr fanfiction #crookshanks #draco malfoy #hermione granger #my fics

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dhr-ao3 · 4 months

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Dramione Drabbles

Dramione Drabbles https://ift.tt/FGYgxNL by BeeWitched_xx (GetasGirl_x) Prompt: What happened last night? from @DramionePrompts Words: 835, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: F/M Characters: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy Additional Tags: Veela Draco Malfoy, Veela Mates, Possessive Behavior via AO3 works tagged 'Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy' https://ift.tt/vPEdrw8 January 03, 2024 at 09:42PM

#IFTTT #Dramione #Draco x Hermione

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thisisanomdeplume · 1 year

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In the Dungeons

added to "At This Moment, All Way Well" Dramione Drabble collection by thisisanomdeplume

A promise in secret they made, birthed of whispered words and stolen breaths.

No one knew until—

Bellatrix had her on the floor—having dragged Hermione by her hair from where they were keeping them in the dungeons.

His father’s hand was on his shoulder and Draco half wondered if it was to hold him back, but it couldn’t be; because no one knew.

Hermione had told him before this moment, no matter what happened, do nothing that would tell.

The bitch was on his witch; knife in hand, crazed look ablaze and curses on her lips.

And he could do nothing.

Bellatrix drew the knife and plunged down, with so much force he knew it should go straight through Hermione’s arm.

He lunged, and his father grabbed the back of his collar.

A blood curdling scream. But not hers.

It was his aunt’s cry that filled the room as she was thrown backwards.

Lucius released him and he ran to her where she lie unblemished on the floor.

After all, the Manor would not let a Malfoy be harmed.

~*~

Inspo from bertie_bear on discord who got the idea from @pia-bartolini 's Tear the Moon which I beta’d so it’s inception inspiration 🤣🖤

Beta: Mr. Plume

Prompt "In the Dungeons" from dramioneprompts on twt

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lunnettewrites · 1 year

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“come home with me”

“So, what do you say Malfoy? Come home with me.” Hermione was doing her best to hold herself up. She wasn’t about to pass up her chance to get Malfoy somewhere private.

“And why should I go home with you?” He raised a brow.

She held up a finger, “well for one, you’re a prat. Y-you’re still a shu-stupidly handsome prrrrat.”

She held up a second finger, “second, you look rav-ravishing…th-those rrrobes.”

As she held up a third finger, she leaned towards him, almost toppling over if Draco hadn’t caught her. In a loud whisper she said, “w-wore this ddress ju-just for you.”

He looked her up and down, contemplating on what to say.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” She perked up, a large dopey smile forming on her face.

“Yes I’ll go home with you Granger-Malfoy.” Draco bit back a laugh as he escorted his heavily intoxicated wife to floo home.

- originally posted on twitter

#dramione #dramioneprompts #Hermione Granger x Draco Malfoy #married hermione granger and draco malfoy #drunk hermione #twitter drabble

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whimsymanaged · 1 year

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Prompt: Tell me how you like it (@DramionePrompts on Twitter)

NSFW / rated E

Hermione’s had a lot of sex. Some good, some bad, some barely memorable.

But never, never has she had it deliciously backed against a door, her dress hiked around her waist and one knee pressed to her chest, with Draco Malfoy demanding, “Tell me how you like it.”

She makes a desperate mewling sound, her clit swollen and throbbing. She’s so beyond arousal that she might murder him if he doesn’t fuck her into oblivion in the next .2 seconds.

“I’ll like it,” she breathes, grabbing his arse roughly.

He makes a sound that’s distinctly unsatisfied and angles himself. Then, he slowly, slowly, fucking barely presses into her. She cants her hips to get him farther inside, but he moves back.

“Like this?” he asks, and she glares up into his smirking face.

She contracts her muscles around his tip and is rewarded with colourful swearing. She smiles. “If you prefer it.”

He gives her another inch and slides his fingers over her clit.

“I will come,” she bites out.

“Is that a threat? Because I’m not scared, sweetheart. I’m thrilled.”

“You’re infuriating,” she snaps, even though she’s so close that she can already feel her body winding tight. Because Circe, he’s doing it for her. His roughness juxtaposed with the careful attention—asking her how she likes it, for Merlin’s sake—is sending her over the edge.

When they’d stumbled into her office after work, both thrumming with tension and raring for a fight, she hadn’t been expecting this to happen.

“Why,” she gasps as he slides in further, “do you care what I like anyway?”

Malfoy bites her neck. “Because I want you to enjoy it?”

She urges him deeper with her fingers on the hard muscles of his arse. “I like it hard and fast. Do you?”

He kisses her on the mouth for the first time as he bottoms out, and she gasps against his lips, her eyes rolling back. He pulls out and slams into her once, twice, thrice.

“Yes,” he tells her gruffly, fucking her so hard that she has to lift her other leg and wrap it around him, hanging on for dear life. “Yes, Granger, I do.”

She comes then, and she hasn’t even caught her breath when he hauls her flush against him and keeps fucking her.

She tries to think of the last thing that was said. “Oh, good. That—we’re—holy fuck, Malfoy—that—”

He laughs against her ear. “For the record, I would have taken you very slowly and very gently had you preferred that.”

She can’t come up with an intelligible answer, because she’s coming again. This is not normal.

She hears him muttering under his breath as she comes down, catching words like “tight” and “hot” and “next time.”

“One more, Granger,” he tells her.

“Over the desk,” she manages.

Sweat slides down his temple as he grins at her, cheeks red and eyes shining. He carries her over to the desk and swats her arse as she bends over.

“You seem—” She cuts herself off on a moan as he pushes back into her. “Happier.”

He laughs. “Yes, I happen to be enjoying myself.”

She makes a contented noise. “Me too. Immensely.”

“Good,” he says, and fucks her exactly right until she comes a third time.

#dramione #draco malfoy #hermione granger #draco x hermione #dhr #harry potter #from twitter

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sailtomarina · 6 months

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The door is locked

They fumbled at the fastenings of their clothes, eager to take advantage of the time gifted them. Shirts and pants were dropped unceremoniously to the ground. A loud tear rent the air.

“I liked that pair!” Hermione protested, even as she curled her fingers into Draco’s boxer briefs to tug at them.

She’d introduced him to the Muggle style shortly after they had first started having sex, loving the way they hugged his tight arse and emphasized just how wonderfully fit he was.

“I’ll buy you a dozen more,” he muttered.

He reached around and unsnapped her bra in one smooth twist of his fingers. The prat had done that the first time, too, and she’d been so shocked at the time that she’d bit down hard and made his lip bleed.

“That’s not the point, dear.” Hermione was going to go mad if he wasn’t inside of her soon. She’d been so wound up with everything lately and it had been far too long since their last shag.

“Save me your arguments on frivolous spending and waste. I can just vanish them so they never go near those barbaric landfills.”

She scoffed even as she warmed at the fact that he’d remembered her lecture on sustainability, a movement that didn’t seem to have any traction in a magical world where objects could literally disappear, be repaired, or transfigured into something new.

She crowed in delight as his cock sprung free, thumping against her stomach with a satisfying smack. They maneuvered their way to the bed.

Squeak!

Hermione tugged out the fuzzy snake on which she’d landed and raised an eyebrow.

“What? It’s Scorpius’.”

“I know it belongs to our child. I’m just wondering why it’s here and not with him.” Hermione spoke slowly, as if Draco, too, was a toddler.

“Must’ve missed it in all the chaos. Please, let’s just—” He descended, lips covering hers and attempting to turn her mind back to what they’d started.

She yanked her head away and smacked him over his glorious blonde head with Slither the Snake.

“He’s going to want it back and we’ll get interrupted. Again.”

They’d had to lie to their own child and pretend they were only hugging. She’d never seen Draco snatch up his pants as quickly as he had when Scorpius demanded in on the hug and leapt up to join them. Her husband hadn’t stopped pouting for days afterward and it had taken her a surprise visit to the underside of his study’s desk to get him to relent.

“The door is locked and Wimsy is under strict orders to leave us alone for at least two hours,” Draco said. He nearly whined, grinding against her to remind her of his prominent need.

“Wimsy!”

A House Elf with plaited pigtails popped into place at the foot of their bed. She didn’t even blink at the sight in front of her, even when Draco yelped and yanked at the blankets to cover them.

“Mistress called?” Big blue eyes blinked innocently up at them as she twirled her lavender skirts around her. Hermione was pleased to see she wore the matching slippers she’d gotten her.

She extended the green snake. “Please take this to Scorpius, and remind him to share with Lyra.”

“Yes, Mistress. Wimsy has the children well in hand.”

Just as quickly as she’d appeared, she disapparated and they were alone once more.

Draco gasped as the covers were yanked off him and cold air kissed his bum. Hermione pinched one cheek before rolling them both over to pin him to the mattress below her.

“Now, where were we?”

WC 603

Twitter prompt from @DramionePrompts

Cross posted on Tumblr and AO3

I have a definite weakness towards boxer briefs. They look absolutely divine and I encourage more to try them if they never have.

#dramione #dramione prompt #dhr fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #draco malfoy x hermione granger #hermione granger #draco malfoy #harry potter flashfic

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draqo-pctter · 1 year

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we’re on a break a dramione microfic/ words 709 tags: they were on a “break”, hermione saves draco from himself at the bar, not quite fluff, not quite angst prompt taken from dramioneprompts on twitter

Draco drummed his hands on the bar top as he scanned the room, looking for the least atrocious way to pass the evening. He was surrounded on all sides by redheads and blondes, all of their hair too straight or too contained to catch his attention for longer than a moment.

“Here you are,” said the bartender as he set a glass of firewhiskey on ice down on a napkin. “That’ll be-“

Draco slid two galleons across the table to the bartender whose eyes widened in shock.

“Keep the change.”

The bartender took the change and smiled.

“Next round is on the house.”

That was how every night that week had gone for Draco. Finding a new pub – this one called The Three Chalices – and searching for a woman who might ease the tightness in his chest even a little bit. Even for a minute.

“Draco.”

He didn’t have to turn around to know who had materialized beside him, her berry-toned lips pressed into a thin line. He took a sip of his drink and scanned the room again, refusing to make eye-contact.

“Hermione.”

She was staring at him with an intensity Draco had so desperately missed. It had been six days since their fight. Six days since the last time he kissed her, or held her, or even got to consider what it would be like to sign the final papers for the London townhome they were supposed to move into. Together. As a couple. Very much in love.

“This is what you’re doing now?” Hermione asked. Draco knew that her eyebrow was raised without looking. He couldn’t look. If he looked, he would collapse at her feet and beg forgiveness for something he hadn’t even done. “Picking up random women in bars on a Thursday night?”

“And Friday through Wednesday,” he said, taking another sip. “We’re on a break, love. I can do what I want.”

Draco could feel her thinking, choosing her next words carefully. A redhead in a tight red dress made eye-contact with him from across the bar. When he winked, she winked back.

“If this is what you want–”

The redhead whispered something in her friend’s ear before turning back to him. Draco could see it in her eyes that he had her. All he had to do was decide that this was the night he’d finally let another set of hands touch him for the first time in three years.

“What I want,” Draco said, finally turning to face Hermione. “Is to be falling asleep back at your flat with you beside me and Crooks at our feet. To wake up tomorrow and look at you and know that my future is something I can look forward to, and enjoy. Not,” he gestured vaguely around the bar, “This.”

Hermione’s eyes were narrowed, her cheeks flushed, and chest rising and falling rapidly. Draco could see every emotion and thought flying across her eyes like headlines in the Daily Prophet. The redhead got out of her seat and Draco watched her approach from the corner of his eye.

She didn’t have eyes as beautiful as Hermione’s. Or shoulders as strong, or lips as soft. Draco knew her voice wouldn’t be as melodic either; most likely, it would sound like nails on a chalkboard, scratching against his brain like every bad decision he’d ever made.

The redhead was beside them now, her hand touching his arm. Draco wanted to explode beneath the pressure of how badly he wanted Hermione to do anything. To say anything.

“Am I interrupting something?” she asked, using that fake sing-song tone women used when they thought it made them sound seductive.

In truth, the only thing seducing Draco was the look of disgust that had crept its way onto Hermione’s face.

“We were just leaving,” Hermione said. She reached for Draco’s glass and finished the double shot in one swift gulp. Then, she grabbed his hand and began to tug him toward the door.

“And where are ‘we’ going?” Draco asked, his heart hammering away in his chest.

“Back to my place,” Hermione said as they stepped out onto the street. Draco couldn’t help but smile to himself as the familiar pull of being apparated tugged at his stomach.

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seraphinellie · 2 years

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Some prompts...

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somedramioneprompts · 3 years

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{Prompt}

Each year ever since the war ended pureblood families in need of restoring their image host a grand ball in honor of the battle of Hogwarts.

Draco invites Hermione for a dance. As the music plays memories of their 5 years long forbidden relationship flash before their eyes. The first time they met after Draco’s trial, their first kiss, lazy sunday mornings in bed, dancing in the candlelight in the middle of the night, loving words whispered... The music escalates happy memories shift to painful ones. The time Lucius found out, the scream of fury of his parents, tearful goodbyes, admission that they could never work. Flashback hinting of their breakup a few month ago.

The dance ends with Draco deciding to be with Hermione, no longer afraid of what others might think and they kiss in front of everyone making their relationship public.

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jabberjay725 · 6 years

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Told You So..

“Come on Hermione, you know you can come with us to Romania.” Ginny urged Hermione as she stuffed the trunk on her bed. Hermione’s eyes never moved from the book in her lap, as she listened to her fiery-friend beg her to come home for the holidays. Home. It was funny how that word had changed its meaning so many times in her seven and a half years at school. Her parents were her home, Hogwarts was her home, the Weasley's house was her home. Yet, none of those felt right now, either.

She hadn’t been able to reverse the spell on her parents, so they were still in Australia, unaware that they had a daughter out in the world. She couldn’t call them her ‘home’ anymore. The final battle changed Hogwarts and Hermione. Never would she be able to walk the grounds without reliving the lives that were lost where she stood. Hogwarts no longer felt like home. And then there was the Weasley’s. Grief and loss had a funny way of changing people, and while they would always be her family, this was the first Christmas without Fred and she knew they needed to grieve privately. So right now, she couldn’t consider the Weasley’s home either.

“No, Ginny. It’s okay. I don’t mind staying here. I’ve got a lot I want to work on. It will be nice to have the grounds empty.” This wasn’t a lie. Hermione had been excited to be able to walk around without first years whispering about her and her part in the downfall of Voldemort. If she heard something about the “Golden Trio” one more time, she couldn’t be responsible for what her wand would do.

“Suit yourself. But, when mum sends you a howler, it’s on you.” Hermione laughed, knowing full well that there would probably be a strongly worded post to her tomorrow from Mrs. Weasley.

“Have a good holiday, Gin.”

“You too. Merry Christmas!” And with that, Ginny was off and Hermione was left alone in the original girls dormitory.

---

There was one thing Hermione appreciated about the rebuilding of Hogwarts. Professor McGonagall had seen to it that returning seventh years would have their own common room and dorms to the East of the castle. She assumed they would need space away from the younger students and their pestering questions. She had been right. Only a handful of seventh years had returned. Most had decided to take the Ministry up on their offer of an honorary degree and start their careers. Harry and Ron were prime examples, neither wanted to come back and had instead moved forward with Auror training.

Most of the returnees weren’t a shock to Hermione, aside from one. Draco Malfoy. She had been in the common room of the returning-seventh year tower when he entered. She was rendered speechless, to say the least. Draco had met her eyes only briefly before making his way to the male dorms, his trunk floating behind him. He had always made his hatred of Hogwarts obnoxiously known, so why had he come back when he had a free pass to never look back? A question she figured she would never know the answer to. How frustrating.

After Ginny had left, Hermione made her way back to her common room. She hoped she would have the whole place to herself. As far as she knew, everyone was going home for the holidays. Her hopes were soon shattered by the young man sitting on the couch in front of the fire. She stopped short as she entered the room, her eyes adjusting to the dim light.

“Granger.” Malfoy nodding at her, lifting a bottle of amber liquid to his lips. Hermione hadn’t initially noticed the glass in his hand. How did he get that? Alcohol was strictly off limits on campus. She thought better than to ask. They were of age now, after all.

“You’re not going home?” She asked,unwrapping her scarf and hanging it, along with her jacket on the rack by the entrance. The annoyance in her voice was obvious. She had really wanted to be left alone for a week or two.

Draco chuckled darkly, shaking his head in answer. Again, he took a slow sip from his tumbler.

“Shouldn’t you be at the Weasley’s, grooming each other for fleas?”

“They’re going to Romania this year, to visit Bill and Fleur. They had a little girl.” She explained, ignoring his insult. Draco nodded idly, as if he hadn’t paid much attention to her answer anyway.

Hermione made a move to leave towards her dorms when he finally spoke up.

“Want a drink?” She had barely heard him, his voice not much louder than the roar of the fire. She wasn’t used to this brooding Malfoy. Then again, she had spent little time anywhere near him since September. He kept to himself just as much as she seemed to.

Hermione moved around to the front of the couch, sitting on the floor across from him with her back to the fire. With a wave of his hand, a bottle and another glass appeared on the table between them.

“You know this is against the rules.” She said, despite reaching for the bottle.

“Oh yeah? I won’t tell if you don’t, Granger.” He smirked, and Hermione was given a quick glimpse at the Malfoy she knew and loathed.

Taking a quick swallow, Hermione choked as the warm liquid hit the back of her throat. That wasn’t Firewhiskey, or Butterbeer. Instead, it was a dark whisky. Good Merlin, that was strong.

“Muggle alcohol?” Hermione was shocked, assuming that everything muggle was considered less than the dirt under his shoe.

“It’s stronger. Muggles are more patient, it seems. They let their whiskey age, no spells to speed up the process.” Everything he said was short and to the point.

Hermione nodded, “Since when did you begin harboring this affection for muggles?” She made no effort to hide the sarcasm in her voice. She took a slower swallow of the whiskey, learning her lesson from before.

Draco eyed her, sneering slightly as she teased him. Since when the fuck did she address him that way? “Since firewhiskey stopped working.” He answered, leaning forward to pour himself another glass.

Stopped working? Hermione didn’t get the change to ask what he meant before he spoke up again.

“My turn.” He said, when he sat back against the leather.

“Your turn for what?”

“Well, you seem so keen on asking me questions. Figured I get a round too.”

Hermione hadn’t realized she had been asking questions, but she conceded.

“Okay.” Another swallow of whiskey, allowing the liquid to warm her from the inside out.

Draco hadn’t expected her to actually play along, nevertheless he took advantage of her agreement.

“Why didn’t you really go with the Weasley’s? Carrot Top break your heart?” He tried to hide his mirth behind his glass.

Hermione’s jaw tensed at the mention of her and Ron’s relationship. That was still a sore spot too. Not because he had broken her heart. Really, it had been the other way around. After the final battle, everything was just different. They weren’t the same people they used to be, and you just couldn’t make a square fit in a round hole. She had ended things over the summer, and while it had caused tension for a while, they seemed to finally be back on normal terms.

“It’s the first holiday since we lost Fred. I didn’t want to relive all that grief. They need this time together, anyway. And no, Ron didn’t break my heart. I ended things this summer.” She didn’t feel the need to elaborate beyond that.

Draco nodded along, knowing full well what she meant. This was his first holiday without his father. And while yes, he had been a bastard of a man, it was still different not having him home.

“So is it my turn now?” Hermione asked, after finishing off her glass.

“We’re making this a game, are we?” Draco asked, leaning forward and refilling her glass.

“Sure. Truth or Truth.” The one glass had already made Hermione a little more giddy. The girls used to play this late at night in the dorms. It was always when the best gossip was divulged, even though Hermione never really had a care for it. Still, she couldn’t deny it was interesting to listen in.

“The fuck is that?” Draco laughed, undoing the top two buttons of his white linen dress shirt. Hermione watched his fingers work to expose the skin along his neck and collar bone before answering.

“You know, like truth or dare? It’s a silly game. You get to ask someone a question and they have to answer honestly.” Another swallow of whiskey.

“And the dare?” He smirked. He knew of truth or dare, hell that’s how he had seen his first pair of breasts back in third year. He wondered if he could get a reenactment of that night?

“Oh, no. I don’t trust you with that. We’ll stick to truth.” Hermione could only imagine the embarrassing acts he would dare her to commit.

“Fine, you and that stick up your arse can have it your way. Ask away.” Draco waved passively, put out that he wouldn’t be able to dare the girl.

“Okay. Why are you staying here instead of going home for Christmas?” Hermione couldn’t tell if it was the fire or whiskey that was warming her body, but the heat caused her to remove her jumper, leaving her in a simple black t-shirt.

“Mom’s on holiday in France. Father snogged a dementor.” His voice had hardened, gone was the mirth from before. She made a note of this being a sore subject, something to not delve into now.

Hermione said nothing, opting instead to drink from her glass.

“Did you ever shag Weasel?” He was being bold, but he had had his share of whiskey and it was a question he had been dying to know the answer to since the Yule Ball.

Hermione gasped, appalled by his question. “Are you serious? We went from talking about the holidays to who I have shagged?.” She said, her palm splayed against her chest in shock.

“That’s not an answer, Granger.” He was a persistent little shit.

“No. I never slept with Ron, despite his efforts.” Hermione rolled her eyes. “Hadn’t you ever wondered why he dated Lavender Brown?” Hermione felt odd speaking ill of the departed. But, Brown had been a bit of a hussy, offering it up to Ron when she had refused.

“Oh, I never wondered. She made her way through Slytherin before the moved on to your boy toy.” Draco couldn’t admit that he was glad to hear she hadn’t spoiled herself with Ron. What a waste it would have been.

“Who was your first?” Hermione asked, liquid courage coursing through her. The whisky had turned smooth now that she had acquired a buzz. Her second glass was finished quickly. Draco took that moment to refill both of their glasses.

“Astoria Greengrass. Third Year.” It had been a very good game of truth or dare.

“Shocked, really.” Hermione said sarcastically. Though she had to admit, she was thrilled to know it wasn’t Lavender. Hearing that Brown had made her way through Slytherin, she could only assume he had bedded her as well.

Draco chuckled, his eyes roaming over the witch across from him. The fire formed a golden halo around her curls; the shadows of the fire danced across her body, and it was enthralling. Truthfully Draco had momentarily lost himself in the vision of Hermione. The sound of the ice moving in Hermione’s glass snapped him out of his reverie, reminding him that it was his turn.

“What’s one place you’ve always wanted to be laid?” Draco asked, knowing his sexually charged questions were getting under her skin.

Hermione rolled her eyes, “In the stacks of the library, under the tree by the black lake, the room of requirement.” She listed a couple places, assuming she would surprise him by being so forthcoming.

Draco nodded, considering the areas she listed. The fact that the library had been her first mention wasn’t shocking at all, but it did cause his pants to tighten just enough to be uncomfortable. Damn the witch, and the whiskey.

“What do you actually think of muggle borns?” Hermione had turned the direction of their game, opting for a question she had been dying to know.

“My answer might shock you.” Draco warned.

“Go ahead…”

“I dont give a rats arse about blood. I’ve seen purebloods and muggle borns alike bleed to death in front of me. There’s not a damn thing different in their blood.” His hand clutched the glass in his hand a little harder, living through the flashbacks of Lord Voldemort reigning over his house and executing people on his dining room table.

Hermione was silent, taking in his words.

“Told you so.” He raised his glass at her, taking another swallow of the warming alcohol. He had shocked her, indeed.

“What do you actually think of me, Hermione?” He asked, her name rolling off of his lips as if he had said it many times before.

“My answer might shock you.” She warned, playing off his words.

Draco fed into her line, “Go ahead. . .”

“I think you were an absolute fucking prat who lived to make my life hell.” Draco cringed, knowing where she was headed.

“I think you’ve changed, I think you have a lot of remorse for your part of the war. I also think you never wanted to do any of that. I think you’re scared to death because you finally are able to be who you want to be, instead of who your father bred you to be. I wonder if you even know who you want to be. I think you’re incredibly smart and talented, and I’m anxious to see who you become and the name you’re going to build for yourself.”

It was Draco’s turn to be struck into silence.

“Told you so.” Hermione took a swallow of her whiskey, suddenly wondering if he had laced it with veritaserum. Had the whiskey really loosened her lips that way?

Draco’s move to the floor next to her was gradual. He placed his glass on the table top as he moved beside her. Hermione watched him, her eyes locked on his as his situated himself. It was her turn now to ask a question, but the look in his eyes had silenced her. The last time she had been this close to him, he had left with a broken nose. Now though, hurting him was the furthest thought from her mind.

Finally, she spoke up. “What do you think of me?”

“I think you’ve driven me crazy for years. You’ve bested me in classes, despite your blood status. Which I know now doesn’t mean anything, but I was taught that it does. At the time, it really confused me. How could this mud-muggle born be better at magic than me? You challenge me, and terrify me. You’re strong, incredibly so. You’re a beautiful witch, Hermione.” As he spoke, gravity seemed to move them closer, leaning towards each other. His words were whispered between them, the air around them seeming to become charged.

Draco barely paused for a breath before asking his question.

“What is it that you want, Hermione?” He asked, his eyes searching hers. Their drinks were long forgotten, but Hermione was thankful for the courage it had bestowed upon her. Because now, she didn’t hesitate when pulling him closer and closing the distance between them.

Her mouth met his in a slow kiss which only deepened by his hand moving along her jaw, holding her against him. Hermione’s hands moved over his shoulders, and into the pale hair at the nape of his neck. With little force Draco moved her to his lap, allowing his hands to roam her back as their tongues met in a battle for dominance.

Hermione suddenly wanted to add a place to her list of fantasies. In front of the fire in an empty common room was enticing, as well. In fact, it was now at the top of her list.

All thoughts of the game were forgotten as they lost themselves in each other.

Hermione never did get to ask the question she had been wondering since September . . . Why had Draco Malfoy returned to Hogwarts?

Had she asked, his answer would have been simple.

For her.

-Fin-

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