#slytherdornet
Photo
“Hey, are you listening to me at all?” snapped Ginny.
“Obviously, I am not. What’s going on between you and Malfoy?” said Ron, looking behind her shoulder, horrified. “Arse Face’s staring at you all evening!”
“Hmm, it’s probably because of my incredible beauty. Or my drinking buddy, some poor things say he’s a hottie.“ added his sister, with a sadistic grin.
"HA, fucking ha. Ginny,” spluttered Ron. “I want you to tell me right now – promise me – you won’t, you wouldn’t… not with Malfoy!”
Ginny took a sip of her firewhiskey and shrugged. “Merlin, fine! I promise, there’s nothing between me and Draco, okay? Happy?”
Ron smiled brightly. “Dear sister, you brought magic back into my life. For a second… wait, did you just say D r a c o???”
#hpedit#harrypotteredit#hprarepairnet#drinny#slytherdornet#dracomalfoyedit#ginnyweasleyedit#hp#dailyharrypotter#pottersource#draco malfoy#ginny weasley#draco x ginny#ginny x draco#otp: the rag and bone shop of the heart#HAPPY BDAY MATRESSOFWIRE#it's super basic and not worthy of your special day but you know me i AM basic myself lol#love you to the moon and back old lady with three cats#never change your nasty messy nature you're one of a kind truly#shitty things i do for love#exactly eamon farren and liv cooke as d x g EXACTLY
84 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Nature of Seduction
Pansy Parkinson x Neville Longbottom - Historical AU ft. NSFW Art
collab by @artofcrumbs & @dreamsofdramione
for @tumblintofu
“Yes. It has been rumoured to have… aphrodisiac properties.”
“Oh.” Sweat beads at Pansy's temple and she wants to wipe it away, but she’s afraid if she moves she might do something she shouldn’t. “What do I do?”
“You—I—We…” Captain Longbottom licks his lips. “You have to… take care of it.”
“Take care of it?” Her voice hits a foreign pitch. “And how—”
She doesn’t have to ask.
Story & Art (SFW + NSFW) on Ao3
#panville#panville art#pansy parkinson#neville longbottom#pansy x neville#hp fanfiction#hp fanfic#hp rare pair#hprarepairnet#slytherdornet#my words#collaboration#collab fic#gift fic#*dreamsofdramione
49 notes
·
View notes
Photo
And that’s the thing about illicit affairs...
#hpedit#dramione#wizardsuzy#harrypotterdailly#slytherdornet#slytherinnpride#magicfolk#gifharrypotter#dhredit#dramioneedit#harrypottergif#dracomalfoyedit#hermionegrangeredit#draco x hermione#dhr#hermione granger#draco malfoy#hp#myedits
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Amity & Enmity
Bobbing back to the surface, Hermione peripherally glimpsed movement to her left; a young male surfer, expertly balanced on the crest of the next monster swell. His black neoprene wetsuit covered him from knees to neck, his white teeth bared in a grin of ultimate concentration and careless joy, his longish mop of bleach-white hair backlit by the sun as he barrelled closer… And closer…
Oh, shit–
“DUCK, you stupid bitch!” the blond roared, as he jinked the front of the sleek surfboard in a last-minute attempt to avoid her flailing form. The sharp tapered point missed, but Hermione actually heard the thud of the fibreglass edge as it slammed against her head. Pain grabbed her like a vice, leaving her helpless against the powerful wave tumbling her down, down, down…
#dramione#beach bum draco#draco x hermione#Dramione fanfic#Harry Potter#slytherdornet#north stradbroke island#amity point#surfer draco#damsel in distress#snark#swearing#recluse#there will be magic#Australian summer
45 notes
·
View notes
Text
Hermione Granger & Draco Malfoy
She likes to sleep in his old Quidditch jersey. He made a joke about it once, called her a little thief. She smiled innocently, pointed to the name written on the back of the shirt, said “Pretty sure that’s my last name now, too,” and then kissed him and sauntered off with a spring in her step.
He was unable to stop the smuggest, proudest little smirk from taking over his face as he watched her walk away wearing nothing but his name.
Yeah, that’s his witch, alright.
370 notes
·
View notes
Photo
@hprarepairnet and @slytherdornet - fairy tale au challenge
Prince Draco of Slytherin x Lady Hermione Granger
Prince Draco and Harry turned to sit by the king, in place of honour during the feast, and Pansy’s eyes slid across to Hermione’s, dark and shrewd as always.
‘Prince Draco is a very handsome man, wouldn’t you agree?’
Hermione sniffed haughtily. ‘Being handsome requires more than just physical appearance,’ she responded primly. She didn’t miss Pansy’s sly smile, and she stubbornly kept her eyes away from the silver-haired, stoney-eyed prince.
#fairytale au#dramione#draco x hermione#moodboard#slytherdornet#fairytale challenge#prompt#draco malfoy#hermione granger#my writing#Harry Potter
117 notes
·
View notes
Text
You are a thing, both beautiful and terrible, and you deserve someone who treats you like the moon and can love the dark side of your soul too.
- Nikita Gill
#dramione#dhr#draco malfoy#hermione granger#hpedit#slytherdornet#harrypotterdaily#media: edit#media: aesthetic#made by k#death by queue
431 notes
·
View notes
Note
27 - panville (lets pretend its after their wedding) (lets also pretend this isnt me trying to extend bright objects epilogue in every way I can) (but just because you are the real queen of this ship)
Drabble #27: “I’m pregnant.”
by PacificRimbaud
Pairing: Pansy Parkinson x Neville Longbottom
Tags: WWII AU, unplanned pregnancy, hospital, brief mentions of war
Wiltshire, May 1944
“I’ve had a letter.”
Lavender’s voice dipped to a conspiratorial low, as though a letter was a secret Pansy both had an interest in and ought to be party to.
“From which one?”
Pansy shut off all attention to Lavender and inspected the label on a bottle of morphine tablets. Finding it sound, she filed it away in the back of the second shelf from the top in the medicine cabinet, and made a sharp graphite tick on the inventory form.
“Lieutenant McLaggen. The fellow from Dunfermline. Oh, thank you.” Lavender received a wrapped bundle from one of the laundry girls, and set it down on the center of the table on the opposite side of the room. “He’s going to be in London next month, and wants me to come over on the train.”
Ticking at her form, Pansy fitted away a third vial, made another tick, and then filed a fourth in a martial row moving forward in the cabinet.
“You need to be careful with all that,” she said.
“Oh, I am.” Lavender checked the tag on the laundry. “I might seem silly, but I’m not daft.”
Pansy scraped her pencil so hard against her form that it tore a small hole in the page.
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“You alright?” Lavender asked, hand paused at the task of untucking the edges of the bundle.
“I’m fine.”
Lavender laid out the edges of the cloth wrapping, removed a stack of cloth face masks, and set them on the shelf in front of her. “It’s only you look a bit flushed, Pans.”
Pansy tightened the aperture of her attention down to a ruthless diameter, wide enough for nothing beyond the minute detail of dates printed on pasted labels and the tick of her freshly sharpened pencil.
Once the old bottles were secured at the front of the shelf and the new ones filed behind them, Pansy closed the cabinet doors and brushed her hands against the cotton of her pinafore.
“I’m going to get some air,” she said, her shoulder nearly glancing against Lavender’s on her way out the door.
“Alright, love,” Lavender called after her. “I’ll tell you about the letter I’ve had from Second Lieutenant Creevey when you’ve come back.”
For a long while, Pansy had thought of the hospital as a cheap robe hung on the exalted bones of Thornwood Abbey. The war would end, and it would fall away as immaterial and disposable as the wrapping on a parcel.
No stain, no echo, no vibration of its requisition would be left behind.
It would be her sanctuary once again, and only hers, free to take her tea in solitary silence by the large window in the drawing room, watching the mallards dabble in the lake.
As it was, the drawing room was filled with men who sent up prayers to God if they woke with a headache from the anesthetic.
Day by day, Pansy felt the memory of her home drain away, replaced as it needed to be by the urgent and essential now.
She passed Daphne in the hall outside the room where her servants used to eat their dinner. She intended to keep up her pace and offer nothing beyond a tip of her head, but Daphne slipped her hand into the crook of Pansy’s elbow.
“Your captain is looking for you,” she said quietly. “I’ve tried to deflect him, but I think he’s gone to Pomfrey already and knows you’re here.”
A voltaic shimmer traveled down the surface of Pansy’s skin and back up again.
“Fucking hell.”
Pansy turned around and stalked off in the other direction, abandoning the idea of a turn around the rose garden.
She nearly escaped to the nurse’s dormitory that was once her own, solitary boudoir.
But naturally he recalled the narrow service stairs in the east wing, and opened the door to descend just as she arrived at the top.
“Pansy,” he said, almost breathless with a sort of half-panic. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”
“Neville.”
He held his hat at his side, pinched between his spare, muscled fingers.
His hair was never fully tamed, and the impacts of having put his hat on his head and then removing it again made themselves clear.
Pansy flattened herself against the wall of the confining stairwell, grasping her own forearms in her palms behind her back.
“Well?” she asked. She pursed her lips and lifted her chin, fluidly performing the impatience and imperious nonchalance that constituted the entirety of her personality as far as most people were concerned.
“I’m leaving.” He breathed in, an intake of air meant to fortify and compose. “Today. Just now, actually.”
His dark eyes scanned her own, but her vision caught on the pink line of scar tissue running from below his left ear, over his cheekbone, through the outside third of his left eyebrow, then turning back to end in a jagged half circle at the hairline at his left temple.
The scar and a Victoria Cross he kept folded in a handkerchief at the back of his top bureau drawer were the only mementos he had been given for a wound that had done everything in its power to end his life.
The desire to trace it with her fingertips flooded her with so much force that she pinched the skin of both her arms hard enough with her fingernails that she sucked in a breath through her nose.
“I wish you all the luck, then, Captain,” she said, leaning hard into the clipped tones of her breeding to mask the quaver in her throat.
“Pansy, please.”
She might have persisted—would have persisted—had he been any other man, but his hand was at her hip, and then his elbow was crooked behind her nape, and she was in his arms, sighing against the mouth that had been mercifully spared of injury for her own selfish, covetous, unappeasable use.
“I’m going to write to you,” he muttered against her jaw.
“I told you. I won’t read them.”
“I don’t care.”
Pansy took his hand in hers, and folded it over her breast.
She might have known better. Should have known better.
He made her mindless with want.
His hand closed hard, in the way that she liked best, over her too-tender breast, and she gasped with the pain of it.
He pulled back instantly, skin flushed and lips heated for her, and stared at her with an expression of hurt and confusion that she hated, instantly and forever.
“Pans, I’m so sorry. I—”
She prayed, earnestly, fervently, for his stupidity.
But there was only one time she’d known him to be a fool.
His thinking was both careful and thorough, and after a moment his skin paled.
“You’ve been avoiding me for a week,” he said.
She wouldn’t tell him.
She refused.
He would go, and meet the enemy at the door with nothing to remind him of her except the knickers she’d folded into his pocket on the afternoon he’d first taken her, breathless, his scar still red, against the grass bordering the rushes at the edge of the lake.
He would go, and there he would be stupid, beating back disaster with the hard brick of his self-sacrificial love.
Maybe he would come back to find her Miss Parkinson of Thornwood Abbey, sitting in her drawing room with a cup of tea.
Maybe he would come back to find her another man’s wife.
Maybe he would come back with no desire to find her anywhere.
Maybe he wouldn’t come back at all.
“Pansy.”
She was hard as flint.
She was so soft.
She could have told him the hour of the disaster with devastating precision.
Lying on her back, a prohibited object in his bed, she’d been lost with him moving in her, bleary eyes half closed, muting her voice against the sweat at his shoulder, heels at the small of his back holding him tight to her as she gasped out that she loved him.
She had hoped he hadn’t heard, but outside the borders of her own unbearable arc of sensation, she was aware that he’d finished inside her.
If she’d moved immediately after, it might have been possible to have done something, but she couldn’t care about anything beyond how it felt to be held in his arms.
In the dreary dark of the stairs, he studied her with dogged and patient intelligence.
And then his fingertips stroked down her belly, and flexed over the secret below.
He moved quickly then, ducking down and tossing her over his shoulder, and marching with singular purpose up the stairs to the second floor.
Below her, the familiar carpet of her ancestral hall streaked away from the backs of his heels.
He finally stopped at the mahogany door to what was once the least-offered guest bedroom in the east wing, and pushed it open with startling force.
He set her down on her feet in the middle of the room, and tightened one of his long arms around her waist.
The chaplain sat at his desk ramrod straight, auburn hair slicked into an adamant wave over his forehead and spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose. He cradled a pen in his hand, poised over a sheet of paper.
“Captain Longbottom. Nurse Parkinson,” he said, mannerly and terse. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I’m going to need you to marry us, Father Weasley,” said Neville. “Straight away.”
Father Weasley laid his pen down in a strict perpendicular to his page, and folded his hands together at the edge of his desk.
“I’m afraid you’ll need to submit the proper paperwork. Then Major Weasley will have to approve. He’s on leave in Devonshire at the moment,” he said, shifting his pen a millimetre to the right, “and isn’t expected to return until Tuesday.”
“Get Brigadier General Moody to sign off on it. He’s downstairs in the wards.” Neville’s hand tightened on Pansy’s waist. “I’m...that is so say we’re—”
He turned to Pansy, pink-cheeked, eyes shining, and smiled with half his mouth like an absolute clot.
Pansy couldn’t bear to look at him. Instead she stared hard at Father Weasley until he puffed a beleaguered breath through his nostrils.
He looked at the face of his wristwatch, then drew open a drawer at the side of his desk, and pulled out a blank form.
“You’ll need a witness.”
Neville released Pansy’s waist, stalked to the door and stuck his head out.
“Malfoy,” he called out. “You’re needed.”
Half a minute later, Captain Malfoy strolled through the door entirely unbothered, half-eaten apple in hand.
“Hullo. What’s going on then?” he asked.
“Give me your ring,” said Neville.
Malfoy looked down at the emerald ring on his little finger.
“What do you want my ring for, Longbottom? Go and get one of your own.” He looked Pansy up and down. “Where’s your wee cap gone, Pans?” He took an enormous bite of his apple. “I shouldn’t think the priest has it.”
“Father Weasley’s marrying us just now,” said Neville. “You’re needed as witness.”
Malfoy laughed. “What? Right now? What’s the bloody great rush?”
“I’m pregnant, idiot,” said Pansy.
Malfoy’s eyes widened. “Well that’s extremely naughty of you.”
With an effort, he pulled the ring off his finger and tossed it to Neville.
“You’d better have something a fair sight better than that in your vaults, Longbottom. I hope you’re aware that our Pans has champagne taste.”
Pansy tucked her hair over her ear. “Fuck off, Draco.”
While Father Weasley scribed at the form, Pansy tucked her hand in Neville’s, and turned to face him.
“I’m going to write to you,” he said quietly, rolling Draco’s ring in his fingers. “Constantly. I don’t care whether you read them.”
For two weeks, Pansy had watched the mirror with mounting terror.
She’d seen her soft, glassy eyes. Her swelling breasts. The heat rising visibly at the surface of her skin.
Fatigued and faint, nauseated and utterly sick with love and longing, she shifted to fill the open geometry of Neville’s body.
“Normally we’d get two days, Pans, but we’re...I can’t—”
She pulled up on her toes, and his arms tightened around her, lifting her nearly off the floor and into the warm space he kept reserved for her at the side of his neck.
“Were you going to tell me?” he whispered hoarsely.
“You can’t worry,” she muttered against his pulse. “You’re not allowed.”
“I’m going to use every last piece of paper I’m given.” He pressed his face into her hair. “I don’t care if you read a single one.”
Pansy breathed him in, using every sense to press him hard into the soft wax of her memory. “I’m going to read them all.”
127 notes
·
View notes
Text
@hprarepairnet & @slytherdornet - fairy tale au challenge
Dramione Beauty and the Beast (ACOTAR) AU:
After the war, the wall went up.
If the lands to the north had given Voldemort his power, well—then no one would be allowed to go up there anymore. It made sense at the time. Both magical and Muggle folk agreed they’d be better off. And in the name of unity, they banded together, intermarried.
And talk of magic became merely legend.
But Hermione still remembered, better than most, what a life with magic had been like. Because she also remembered how non-magical her life had been beforehand. She and her friends had formed a little family—the rest of their relatives having been lost to the war. So she and Harry and Ron now lived in a modest house at the edge of town. She called them her brothers, and they might as well have been for all anyone else knew.
Harry was a respectable citizen of the village and earned a living wage by working as a blacksmith. But Ron, bless his soul, had never really recovered from his devastating losses. He’d get trapped in a memory from time to time and couldn’t handle most jobs. He spent most of his time on their porch, whittling little figures from wood. And though Harry always made sure there was food on the table, sometimes it wasn’t enough.
So Hermione had taught herself how to hunt, using magic.
Read the rest here!
#dramione#hprarepairnet#slytherdornet#fairytale au#dramione fic#dramione fanfic#dramione fanfiction#dhr fanfiction#draco x hermione
59 notes
·
View notes
Photo
tomione + halloween
#tomione#tom riddle#hermione granger#my gifs#i made this a year ago and forgot to post it wtf#it's gonna flop isn't it?#tom x hermione#hermione x tom#slytherdornet#hprarepairnet#halloween
96 notes
·
View notes
Photo
I suppose the real reason Ginny Weasley’s like this is because she opened her heart and spilled all her secrets to an invisible stranger.
happy valentine’s day, doc
#tom x ginny#gin n tonic#hpedit#tom riddle#ginny weasley#hprarepairnet#slytherdornet#ginny x tom#hpshipsnet#did i make it out of spite?? because even decades later tomginny doesn't get enough credit?? maybe#did i use only book quotes to highlight how canon they are??? probably#but you know what?? i'm that meme 'a million number of fans i'm one of them ten fans i'm one of them only one fan THAT IS ME'#when it comes to gin n tonic i don't careeee#out of blood and tears and ink she made him and he'll never leave her#ANYWAYS thefudge dude happy a stupid marketing driven holiday#st valentine or other higher power unquestionably blessed the rhythm of your words because it is just fckng exquisite#thank you for stucking here with us mere mortals uwu#shitty things i do for love
63 notes
·
View notes
Text
Harry felt Malfoy's breath on his lips as they came together over the bottle, hands firmly planted on the floor as though they each needed their familiar soil, refusing to cross into enemy territory.
Except that Malfoy no longer felt like his enemy.
Malfoy felt inevitable.
Right Hand Red by @lqtraintracks
#drarry#draco malfoy#harry potter#hpedit#hprarepairnet#slytherdornet#drarry fanfic#drarry fanfiction#my graphic#my edit#fic rec#hope you like it!#❤❤❤
163 notes
·
View notes
Photo
Hermione Granger, I’m being bossed around by Hermione Granger. And I’m mildly enjoying it.
#dramione#dhredit#hpedit#wizardsuzy#harrypotterdailly#slytherdornet#slytherinnpride#magicfolk#dramioneedit#dhr#draco x hermione#dracomalfoyedit#hermionegrangeredit#hermione granger#draco malfoy#hp#myedits#no i haven't read the cursed child nor i will#but THAT QUOTE#so suggestive
778 notes
·
View notes
Text
Vanish
Vanish.
Draco has lost track of how long he’s been brooding over the single rune on the parchment sitting on the library table before him: a conjoined double triangle, broken and diverging at its lower extremity.
The innocuous word is a sibilant hiss in his tormented brain, insistently reminding him of the twinned cabinets he has been impossibly tasked with repairing this year… and their eventual, wicked purpose.
Desperate for distraction, he looks up from his Runes homework, his storm-grey eyes immediately homing onto a beloved familiar head of wild chestnut curls as Hermione Granger rummages through one of the upper shelves in a nearby stack. She is – as usual – oblivious to his presence, her lips moving silently as she pores over the cramped text of a heavy tome.
Don’t stare, he cautions himself, even as he drinks in every nuance of her appearance. His hungry gaze lingers on the curve of cheek and jut of hip, her outer robes discarded on a nearby chair. She looks vital, energized, alive… content. Glorious.
Forbidden. His racing heart stutters and slows, the simple joy of watching her souring instantly. Blanking his expression, he allows himself a few more moments of covert study. She must sense his gaze; Draco fails to look away before she catches him staring. Her grip on the large book in her hand loosens as she returns his undefended regard. He forgets to breathe as… something… passes between them… Awareness? Vulnerability? Empathy? Or perhaps…
The book falls from her overfull grasp with a loud thud, unfortunately startling his dozing idiot posse out of their droning naps beside him. Crabbe snorts as he spies the witch hurriedly bending down to pick up the dropped book, his beady eyes flicking to Draco and narrowing in suspicion.
“What’re you lookin’ at?”.
“Nothing,” Draco panics, blurting the word too loudly. Hermione snaps about to look at him, her beautiful brown eyes colliding with his. He has no trouble decoding the primary emotion expressed in them this time: profound hurt. Oh, no – I didn’t mean –
“Yeah – she’s nothing, alright,” Goyle jeers. “Nothing but an uppity little bitch, right, Draco?”.
Before he can even begin to consider his reply, Hermione is gone, whirling down the narrow aisle. Draco strains to hear her fading footsteps, regret and rage at his untenable situation churning biliously in his gut.
Vanish… I yearn to do so… but more than that, I wish I could disappear…
With her.
#dramione#flash fiction#writing prompt#harry potter#hogwarts sixth year#draco x hermione#yearning#angst#draco malfoy#hermione granger#pining#library#slytherdornet#slytherdor#NAEV
56 notes
·
View notes
Text
If anyone asks why he avoids the library, he blames the noise.
But the real reason is her.
His heart is too used to running from things that give him a pulse because he has always feared what makes him feel.
And she...
She terrifies him.
245 notes
·
View notes
Photo
NOW COMPLETE!
Hermione only just raised her sabre in time to parry the blow. She winced as Riddle pushed hard against her sabre, forcing her back, and her thighs started to shake from the pressure.
She looked behind Riddle, wondering if she should cry out for help.
Draco was busy fighting three of the Morsmordre crew at once, lip drawn in a feral snarl. Harry and Theo were back to back as they valiantly defended themselves, and the rest of her crew were all fighting for their own lives.
There was no one to help.
Read on AO3!
#update#dramione#pirate au#complete#draco x hermione#pirates#my writing#fanfic#new chapter#muggle au#hoist the colours#slytherdornet
59 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
tarantulafreak
Mars With The Spoods
allrisegifs
All Rise GIFs
angrysoul21
Untitled
pivotalaccess
Untitled
inaxseabig
Inax SEABIG