#dhr drabbles

[extremewritersblock]

A drabble in which Hermione has to babysit a drunk Draco

“I like you, Granger.”

“You’re drunk, Malfoy.”

“Am not,” he said. He had his head propped up on one hand, using the other to finish off the remnants of his - 9th - drink. 

After he’d double and triple checked that the inside of his mug held no more alcohol, he discarded it on the bar top - it clattered with a *thud *- and moved on to his next drunken thought. 

“Why do people say they don’t like your hair?” *hiccup*

“I wasn’t aware that my hair was a popular topic amongst your friends, but thanks for letting me know.” She self consciously pulled at a stray piece resting on the nape of her neck.

“Well, they’re wrong, I like your hair.” *hiccup*

Before Hermione could - thank him? - Malfoy was out of his seat and stumbling confidently towards a couple of girls a few chairs down. 

“Hey, ‘scuse me. Hi, my names Draco. Don’t you like her hair? It has just the right amount of curly, don’t you think?” He was gesturing to Hermione theatrically, like she was the grand prize at the end of a game show.

Hermione, unsure whether it was Malfoy or the girls who needed rescuing from the situation unfolding in front of her, raced up behind him, gripped either side of his shoulders and attempted to move him away.

“Excuse my friend, he’s sloshed,” she said to the girls, who were both doing their best to hide the fit of giggles brought on by Malfoy's... drunkenness.

“Actually I’m her boyfriend,” he said, then his voice changed to a whisper, “but she doesn’t know that yet” - *hiccup* - “so shhhhh.” He placed a finger to his lips to demonstrate how they should stay quiet.

“Malfoy, you are not my boyfriend.” She’d finally succeeded at steering him back to their spot at the bar. He stumbled back onto his barstool. “You have to stop telling people that, or they’ll start to think its true.”

She looked at him expectantly, waiting for an acknowledgement that he’d hear her. 

He was looking back at her, dreamily.

“Well?” she asked, trying to coax an agreement from him.

“I wanna kiss you,” he said, but it came out more like ‘iwanuhkishoe’.

Hermione sighed. 

He was reaching for his drink that he’d already finished off when -

“Draco that’s not your drink! That’s hand sanitizer, you absolute donut.”

“Oooh donuts. They sound delightful right now, don’t they?” he said, then became distracted by a bartender who was passing by them. She was holding a bottle of liquor topped with a sparkler, so tiny flames were dancing in the air. 

The table who had ordered the bottle broke out into a tipsy rendition of the “Happy Birthday” song. Draco happily clapped along.

When it stopped, he quickly turned to Hermione, his face suddenly distraught.

“You know what I just thought about?” he asked. He wore a slight pout.

“What’s that, Malfoy?” She was done trying to guess what nonsense would come out of his mouth next.

“Dragons”

Yup, she would’ve never guessed that.

“What about Dragons?”

“Well Dragons have birthdays, right?”

He posed a good question. Her analytical tendencies wanted to argue that, while yes, dragons are born and thus have birthdays, they don’t have the intelligence to celebrate their birthdays like humans do, so it could be a subjective question. However, to her very drunk acquaintance, she just said:

“Yes - I assume so...” 

“Well, dragons can’t - they’ll never be able to blow out their own birthday candles. How *hiccup* sad.”

She facepalmed.

“You know, it’s been a fun date,” he said 

“We’re not on a date. Your friends left you and I couldn’t, in good conscience, leave you by yourself in your.. current state.”

“Oh. Well d’you wanna go date me sometime?”

“Let’s discuss this when you sober up.”

“Wrong answer. Ten points from Gryffindor.”

“Well Malfoy, this has been a fun.. whatever this was.. but I think it’s time to get you home.”

After a few minutes of slurred protest, and one last swipe at the bottle of hand sanitizer, Draco let Hermione Apparate them back to his apartment.

They arrived with a very clumsy jolt. Somehow, both of them managed to stay on their feet.

“Ooh.. head rush,” Malfoy said. 

Luckily, he’d appeared right next to his bed, and decided to forgo the entirety of his night time routine and just fall into the blankets. 

Unluckily, he’d forgotten he was still attached to Hermione’s arm, and brought her right down with him. She fell with an, “OOOF.”

She let herself lie there for a few seconds, a little hopeful that Malfoy would just go to sleep so that she could escape to her own apartment, but when she finally decided to remove her arm from his, she felt his hand grasp hers.

“Please don’t go,” he said. His eyes, though open, drooped sleepily.

“You won’t sleep well if I stay with you.” She adjusted the blankets around him.

Why did a part of her actually want to stay? Did she expect him to remember any of this in the morning?

She told herself it was her own morality that made her consider accepting his request, and that she’d feel horrible if she left him alone while he was this intoxicated.

As if he was reading her mind -

“Please stay,” he said again, though his voice was growing quieter as sleep threatened to take him.

And so, she stayed.

#maybe I wrote this while drinking wine #maybe I didn't #you'll never know #muahahaha #also starting now the only acceptable nickname for Draco is 'absolute donut' #dhr drabble #dhr drabbles #hp #harry potter #draco x hermione #dramione #hermione x draco #Draco Malfoy #Hermione Granger #dramione drabbles #Draco Malfoy x Hermione granger #dramione prompts #fluffy draco #drunk draco

[sodamnradd]

“I’m asking Theodore Nott to the Ball,” said Hermione, dumping her books on the desk. Ginny raised a brow.

“Do you even know who that is?”

“Oh, shush." Hermione took out an emerald green cover from the pile. “I found his sketchbook. The one that's always on his desk."

“Must be some wicked sketches if they've breached your Quidditch-player fever.” Ginny snatched it.

“I suffer from no such ailment,” she scoffed, but her smile gave her away. More seriously, she said, “I’m lonely, Gin.”

All jokes aside, Ginny felt it, too. “But what's so special about Theo Nott?” She didn’t get it. Hermione could have literally anybody.

“Look at the drawings.” Hermione grinned.

“You snooped?” Ginny tutted. “Naughty, Miss Granger.”

She flipped the cover, licking her fingertip to turn the thick pages with an exaggerated flair. “Shut up,” she cried a few pages in. “Shut up!”

“I know,” said Hermione. “There’s maybe a dozen of them in there.”

“And this doesn’t seem creepy to you?”

Hermione shrugged. “They’re harmless. Look, they’re all from a distance. See that one in the classroom? I think it’s from Transfiguration. My hair was braided like that one morning. They’re rather beautiful.”

Ginny sang out, “He liiikes you.”

She handed the sketchbook back, and Hermione began casting spells over it.

“What are you doing?”

“Locking it up.”

“Not only did you snoop, but you also broke his privacy charms?” Ginny’s grin widened.

"I'm Head Girl," she reasoned. "Simply monitoring."

Ginny kicked Hermione under the table, giving her the hurry-up-and-get-on-with-it eyes. Theo Nott had just entered the library with Malfoy, who seemed to have come from Quidditch practice.

Hermione finished casting her spells, then tousled her hair, pretending to study.

As the Slytherins passed by their table, Hermione called out innocently, “Theodore?”

Theo turned at the sound of his name, appearing confused, or maybe distrustful, when he realised it was Hermione. Odd for a bloke supposedly obsessed with her.

“I found your sketchbook,” she said, holding it up.

Malfoy stepped forward, hand outstretched. “That’s mine, actually.”

(340 words, prompt: that's mine actually, cross-posted from twitter, now illustrated by DamnOverdrive)

#dramione #draco x hermione #hermione granger #draco malfoy #dhr #dramione drabble #sodamnrad #sodamnraddrabbles

[ivmaruva]

Day 79

A quick sketch that inspired the sweetest twitter drabble from the talented @caitybellfics. Highly recommend giving it a read.

#100daysofdramione #dramione #draco malfoy #fanart #digital fanart #hermione granger #hermione x draco #dhr fanart #sketch #dhr art #fanfiction #my art #dramione fanfic #dhr fandom #dhr drabble #drabble

[chronophobique]

When Professor Granger receives a howler at breakfast, even owls stop flying.

It’s Ron. He’s breaking up with her.

“—as long as Malfoy is all you talk about, it’s ov—”

Hopeless, the witch sets the envelope on fire, but it’s too late. The Potions Master is already smiling.

“It wasn’t you,” she says as soon as she enters his classroom before the morning’s classes begin, not having considered that a few students would have already found their seats at their tables.

“The… Malfoy that Ron mentioned,” she repeats more quietly though no less harshly once she has crossed the gloomy room as casually as possible, her chin raised high, to his desk. “It wasn’t you.”

Focused on the preparation of some potion, his left hand busy stirring the hot liquid, her former classmate turned colleague doesn’t look up from his cauldron as he retorts, “Is that so? What’s with the urgency, then? You didn’t even took the time to clean up that cruddy pumpkin juice stain on your white blouse. You know, the one you caused in your panic.”

Caught off-guard by his comment, the witch tightens her robes over her chest, painfully conscious of the heat rising to her cheeks.

“Yes, well, you’re one to talk about cleanliness; your classroom reeks of your cologne. I know you’re trying to cover the fact that you never leave this hole to sleep or shower, but still. I’m sure your students would appreciate you airing it out a bit.”

That makes him pause and meet her gaze for two seconds that seem to last an eternity.

“What?” she grits through her teeth.

“Nothing. I just think it’s funny that you mention it, considering I’m not wearing any perfume today.”

She scoffs. “Yes, of course. And I’m totally imagining that green apple and eucalyptus scent that’s currently assaulting my nostrils. Sure.”

“Professor?” A student asks at the same time Hermione realises that every stool has now found its student. “Is the class cancelled?”

Shit.

“Oh, no. Actually, it’s already started,” Malfoy replies as he redirects his attention to her with a devilish grin on his lips. “Professor Granger, why don’t you share with the rest of the class what you just smelled in your Amortentia?”

#dramione #draco x hermione #dramione drabble #dhr fandom #draco malfoy #hermione granger #harry potter #chronophobiquedrabbles #hermione x draco #dramione fanfic

[pixydustworld]

The clock above the fireplace read 11:35pm. 25 minutes until midnight. They had exactly 25 minutes to consummate their marriage.

Hermione wondered how the ministry would know if her shiny new husband didn't come inside her.

She drank more champagne.

“It doesn't have to be painful.” Malfoy said, staring above her head at the wall, seeming eager to over analyze the wallpaper, “There are ways for it to be.” He took a deep breath. “Enjoyable.”

“I’ve had sex before.” Hermione said.

“You have?” His voice was a touch surprised.

Hermione narrowed her eyes.

“Loads of times.” Hermione scoffed (three times, to be specific, and it had been almost a year since the last time) “I’m an expert.”

Malfoy had the audacity to look relieved. “Good.” He said, “I’m glad you’ve had pleasurable experiences. When — when, we, consummate — ”

“Fuck.” Hermione said at the same time as him.

“— fuck,” Malfoy practically hissed, “Just. Just think of them.”

Hermione nodded. “Right.” She said, “Sure.” He was staring at her. Waiting for something; her permission, perhaps. “You can think about other people, too.”

The first time she’d had sex, Harry had been soft, if not a little too gentle. In the tent, surrounded by darkness and the ever present promise of death, their fumbling hands had met. It hadn’t been painful, but it hadn’t been overly pleasant, either. It just had been them.

The second time she’d had sex, Ron had been eager to please her, but it had felt off. Like a sneeze that wouldn’t come, like an itch just below her reach — overall, it had been unremarkable and unfortunately for her and Ron’s budding romance, a little unsettling.

The third, and subsequently final time, Hermione had decided that she needed to stop having sex with immediate members of her very small friend group, and Seamus Finnigan had been happy to oblige her.

In the middle, he’d gotten a leg cramp and accidentally headbutted her.

She’d gotten a bloody nose, and Seamus still wasn’t able to make eye contact with her without cringing.

Then, the marriage law had been announced, and Hermione had been too swept up in writing motions and testifying in court to worry about the elusiveness of her own sex life.

“Did you ever think you’d get married?” Hermione asked to rupture the silence that had stretched on for a bit too long. It seemed like a fitting question to ask, given their predicament. “I was never sure.”

Malfoy smiled and Hermione felt her stomach twist. This would all be much easier if he wasn't so handsome. “It was never my choice.” He said, “I always knew I’d marry someone my father chose for me. Perhaps that’s why I accepted all this — the lack of choice, that is something I’m familiar with.”

“You, however, fought to the bitter end.” He continued, “very valiantly, I might add. As is your nature.”

“It didn't work.” Hermione said softly. Admitting defeat to Draco Malfoy never seemed possible before — but now? It felt almost inescapable, the partnership that was materializing between them. Like the golden thread of fate was tightening around their wrists.

“You’ll figure out a way to make them suffer.”

“Not my nature,” Hermione said, finishing her glass of champagne, “That’s yours.”

The clock read 11:40pm. It seemed they could no longer avoid fate.

“If we don’t consummate,” Malfoy was saying, voice sounding far away, “And the punishment is a fine, I can pay it. I won’t pretend I’m not above bribery, either. I — we — have a lot of money. Perhaps we could buy the Minister an island? Do you think he’d like that?”

“Harry said the punishment was prison time.”

“Hm.”

Hermione stood from her chair by the fire and smoothed the nightgown over her legs, fingers trembling slightly. “Thank you,” She said, “For offering to pay a fine for me. And for hypothetically bribing the minister of magic with an island. But I think — I think this is just unavoidable. We’ll be okay.”

He smiled again, soft like the fuzzy clouds at sunrise. Hermione had never really noticed how his smile changed his entire face. “Yes,” he said, watching as she moved across the room, “We’ll be just fine.”

She lay down on the bed, closer to him now then she had been in years. The last time they’d touched had been when he’d clutched her shoulders the day of the trials, fingers tight around her flesh. When he’d apologized to her in that dimly lit hallway, tears tracking down his cheeks, uncaring of who saw.

Hermione found dwelling on the past did no one any good, but for once, she was glad he’d done so; if only for the growth that accompanied him with the passage of time.

Glad, that if this was going to happen, she would face the future with this version of Draco Malfoy.

Malfoy shifted, looming above her, his fingers finding the strap of her nightgown, twisting the fabrics softly before firmly pressing his hands on either side of her body. The mattress refused to creak, the only sound in the room their soft breaths.

“On or off?”

He waited politely for her answer, but his hands betrayed his tension, clutching almost angrily at the sheets, in danger of ripping them. Rich people, Hermione thought, could afford to rip their sheets. They could simply buy new ones.

“On.” Hermione said in a thick voice.

“On.” Malfoy agreed. “I’m going to touch you now.”

“Yes.” Hermione wished she was someone brighter, someone like Ginny or even Lavender. If they’d been assigned Malfoy, the room wouldn’t feel so thick and heavy. They’d be able to smile — they wouldn’t be frozen beneath him, skin as rigid as the bones underneath. “Alright.”

“You’re so much smaller up close.” Malfoy murmured, surprising both of them. “From afar, it’s easy to convince myself you’re a titan, towering above us mortals. But here, I think it’s undeniable.”

“I was taller when we were kids.” Was the response Hermione decided to give him. “Do you remember? I used to be taller than Harry.”

“I remember.” His thumb was rubbing circles against the top of her thigh. Just touching the skin, nothing scandalous, but Hermione felt a bit like a puritan seeing ankles for the first time.

“Do you think our child will be tall?” She asked, “Like you are?”

His touch faltered for a bit, a crack appearing in his perfect facade. For a moment, his eyes were bright, hungry. Then, he resumed his lazy touch, fingers slowly tracing down her legs, beneath her nightgown.

“I hope they inherit all your goodness.” Malfoy said roughly, “And they inherit all my height.”

Hermione had never thought about being a mother, never considered that a possibility — she certainly had never expected to become a parent with Draco Malfoy. But a life with Harry had inadvertently prepared Hermione to adapt to her environment, like those frogs that change genders.

“I’ll need to stretch you a bit.” Malfoy was saying, sliding down her body. Hermione wondered when she should start calling him Draco. Surely, soon, with the home he'd seemed to have made for himself between her thighs. “Please, just try to relax.”

“Right.”

His hot breath on her center was the only warning Hermione received before he was licking her, tongue twisting its way inside her cunt, thumb lazily rubbing her clit. She was wet, not an embarrassing amount, but not enough for him to grunt his approval, the vibration sending a shudder skittering up her spine.

“Oh,” she gasped, hips squirming against his hold, “Wha — what are you doing?”

“Shh,” he hushed her, words mumbled against her cunt, “It’s rude to interrupt.”

Then, he closed his lips around her clit and sucked, his sloppy noises filling the room. Distantly, Hermione heard someone babbling, broken cries and unfinished sentences — it took a moment to realize that voice was her own. Heat, like fire, like a dragon, spread across her body.

He was pressing her to his face, fingers digging into her flesh; each time she withered away from his tongue, his lips, even his teeth, his grip tightened, an arm pressed against the flesh of her stomach.

Finally, finally, finally, she felt one his fingers slip across her folds, sliding through the wetness. Malfoy’s fingers were so much thicker than her own, entering her with a bluntness she wasn’t accustomed to, twisting her open. Fucking her slowly, with no clear intention of quickening his pace.

“After the war,” Malfoy said, licking up her cunt with leisure, “When we were at school, I wanted to be near you every second. It was like waking up and realizing I could actually see the sun.”

She remembered, even now, through her trembling limbs, how he’d looked at her during their 8th year. It hadn’t been a predator's gaze, but one of blatant observation. Like he was truly seeing her for the first time; finally allowing himself to look.

“What a gift it is.” He murmured against her, a second finger sliding to join the first, a pleasant burn beginning to overtake Hermione, bubbling over the surface, spreading across her flesh, “The privilege to bask in your warmth.”

He devoured her until she came with a wail, on an exhale, head tossed back. Hermione twisted and twisted and twisted away, but his hold was firm. It hadn’t been like that with the others, rarely, it had even been like that with herself.

“Will that be enough?” She sniffed.

He pulled his cock out for her to see.

“Three fingers, then.” Hermione said, voice unsteady.

It was 11:53pm by the time he’d stretched her to his liking.

“Hermione.”

Hermione jerked at the use of her first name. “Yes?” She hiccuped.

He squinted up at her, hair falling over his eyes. He really looked like a stupid fairytale prince, even now, with his face glistening, wet with her, it was completely unfair. “Think of someone else. It’ll help this part.”

To her credit, Hermione tried to follow his directions.

Visions of Harry’s eyes morphed into gray, Ron’s arms around her torso tightened, the way she imagined he would clutch her to his chest — Seamus’s moans grew deeper, like his voice.

It seemed all roads led back to Draco Malfoy, and Hermione was too tired to contemplate the importance of that realization.

Earlier, he’d called her valiant. Brave. Said it was part of her nature, woven into her bones. If she had nothing left, she’d still have her bravery. Perhaps, it was time to use the courage everyone insisted she possessed.

“I’m not thinking of anyone else.”

Malfoy looked like someone had shot him. “What?”

“I’m not thinking of anyone else.” Hermione repeated loudly. Maybe he had a minor head cold and was having difficulty hearing her, “I’m thinking about you.”

“But I told you to think of the others.”

Hermione rolled her eyes.

“I’m not a dog.” Hermione scoffed. “I don’t blindly follow your orders.”

She ignored the way he smiled at her.

She felt him then, between her legs. Warm and heavy, a weight on her thigh, a promise for what was to come. “I’m,” Malfoy looked upset, angrier than before with the sheets, “I’m sorry that this happened. That it’s me.”

“I’m not.” The orgasms had loosened her limbs, a crack across a frozen pond; speaking to him seemed easier now, less world shattering. “I’m glad it’s you. I’ve fucked both my friends, it’s only natural that I’d carry on to my enemies next.”

“You think I'm your enemy?”

“No,” She sighed, “I think you’re my husband.”

“Say that again.”

“Husband.” She repeated. “You are my husband.”

“And you are my wife.”

Earlier cowardice forgotten, Hermione smiled up at him, all teeth. Malfoy blinked, like someone had turned on the lights. “ I’ve thought about you fucking me before.” She said softly, “Have you thought about me?”

Malfoy groaned, like he was in pain. “Constantly,” he said. “An agonizing amount. It’s time for me to fuck a baby into you. I’ll fill you up, alright? Will you let me?”

Hermione managed a confident nod.

The feel of all of him, tossed her head back.

Unfair, completely unfair, that this experience belonged to him, when already so many parts of her were his, too. His ownership over her mind had been a subtle acquisition, but this new feeling, the one burning through her, seemed to happen all at once.

“Such a good girl,” Malfoy grunted, “allowing me between your thighs.”

Then, he began to move, and the entire world seemed to tilt off axis.

Everything seemed to melt away, all that remained was Draco, the drag of his cock inside her.

She weakly clutched his arm when his fingers slid to her clit again, rubbing slow, agonizing circles. He smiled at the tears that stuck to her eyelashes, and it was a little mean.

“I won’t last,” he managed to say, “come on my cock, that’s a good girl, let me feel it.”

She felt when he came inside of her, heat spreading across her stomach. Winced slightly, when he kept fucking her, soft thrusts, fucking his cum deeper inside her.

“Have to make it stick.” He slurred.

“We can try again.” Hermione sighed, finally allowing her fingers to drag through his hair. Soft, softer than she thought it’d be — felt him twitch inside of her when she spoke. Wondered if her voice alone had the power to bring him to his knees.

“Has no one ever made you come before?” He hummed, “Does that job only belong to your husband?”

“You’ve never had a job in your life.”

She felt his smile against her skin. “Then I’ll need lots of practice.”

#dhr #dhr smut #dhr drabble #dhrtwt #dhr fanfiction #dhr fanfic #dhr ficlet #dhr fic #dramione #dramione fic #dramione fanfic #dramione drabble #dramione ficlet #dramione smut #hermione granger x draco #hermione granger x draco malfoy #draco x hermione #draco malfoy x hermione granger #hermione granger #draco malfoy #hermione x draco #draco malfoy and hermione granger #harry potter #ron weasley #seamus finnigan #marriage law #pwp #pwp fics #smut #harry potter smut

[gloivy]

don’t tell me it’s over

dramione drabble | fake relationship | angst with a happy ending

“So, that’s it?” she said it casually, even though it felt like her insides were being torn apart. “Ron apologised, Astoria wants you back. I suppose that means our arrangement is—”

His sharp bark of laughter cut her off. “Don’t tell me it’s over. Don’t you dare tell me that.”

She had never allowed him to get away with speaking to her in that piercing tone before, had never backed down without a fight.

But… there was something in the warning that struck through his demand, in the fractured crack that punctuated the word ‘over’, that made her pause.

And so instead of fighting, instead of warring with him over the one thing that they had ever agreed on—the naïve fake relationship, the understanding that it would end when their respective gains were met—instead of bringing up all of their familiar vitriol, she took a damning leap, and tried instead to accept the small weakness he had offered.

Not to use against him, as perhaps a younger version of herself might.

But instead, to meet with her own, a fragility just as mighty as the one that lingered in the air from his outburst.

So, she continued, as though he had never interrupted her at all, though his plea rung in her ears with each weak word she uttered.

“I suppose that means our arrangement is over.”

His sharp exhale was so anguished, so pained, that the sharpness of it felt like a knife’s edge.

His gaze, she realised, had softened so considerably as of late, and she had grown so accustomed to it’s gentleness that now the stark contrast of his cold stare cut straight through her heart. Such coldness, where once there was warmth.

If she didn’t know better, didn’t feel it in her bones, she would think that he was just as unfeeling as his mask portrayed. But she could see it, the minuscule crack in his facade, and the agony that bled through it.

And so, she continued, quickly, before he took his facade and left her here, alone, with the consequences of her cowardly heart.

“But I—” she choked on her own words, the vulnerability scaring her. She swallowed down the fear, and spoke before she let it consume her, “I don’t want us to be over.”

Shock passed over his features so quickly she almost missed it, the widening of his eyes, his slackened jaw.

And then, in the next moment, his mask was firmly back in place. The crack in his facade hidden once more by cool indifference.

“Why?” he asked, as though he hadn’t been the one begging her not to tell him it was over just moments ago.

Though she supposed this was just his nature. So afraid of being helpless, of putting his heart out on a limb and having it used against him. Such was his upbringing, his love for his family only bringing upon him despair.

But she would not use such weakness against him.

So, she answered his question.

“Because,” she whispered, as sometimes such delicate truth could only be uttered in delicate tone, “I can no longer imagine a future without you in it.”

His mask fell, exposing the agony of the heart he carried.

Two quick strides and he was before her, hand raised as though he meant to caress her. But it fell down by his side again before she could feel his skin against hers.

There was a war waging behind his irises, a war against the man he once was and the man he had become.

She could only hope that the man she loved won the battle.

For several long seconds he said nothing.

But she could tell the exact moment the war ended.

The moment his hand raised for a second time and she felt him caress her cheek. The moment his eyes softened in the way they only ever did for her. The moment his lips parted, not with words, but with a shaky exhale, as though he’d held his breath through their entire encounter.

And then, he whispered, in his own delicate truth, “I do not have a future without you in it.”

Her heart swooped in euphoric glee, and she could not help the smile that stretched her lips so wide it almost hurt.

He laughed as he stared at her, and she knew she probably looked half-mad. But she didn’t care.

Raising to her tip-toes, she kissed him.

Things between them were not over. Far from it. This was only just their beginning.

#drabble #dramione drabble #dramione #draco malfoy #hermione granger #draco x hermione #hermione x draco #dhr #dramione fanfic #dhr fic #dhr fanfic #dramione fanfiction

[accioataraxia]

old habits - a dramione drabble

Hermione was fourteen the first time she kissed Draco Malfoy in the library. A stupid, childish dare that a headstrong girl couldn’t back down from.

A scoff from Pansy Parkinson, a sharp whistle from Gregory Goyle, and a secret kept from Harry and Ron.

Fast forward ten years and Draco is no longer a secret. His fingers are threaded through her curls and his mouth is hot on her neck. The smell of old books prompts her to remind him that they’re in public.

“Old habits,” he mumbles against her skin.

She silently hopes that old habits never really die.

#drabble #cross posted on twitter #dramione fluff #dramione #dhr #hermione granger #harry potter fanfiction #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x hermione granger #dramione fandom

[freckledfern]

They strode towards each other, and as they met Crookshanks took the opportunity to stretch his paws out in front of him before rearing up on his hind legs. Both front paws touched Draco’s thigh as Draco leaned over looking down at Crookshanks with his hands still in his pockets.

“Pspsps.” The sound slipped through Draco’s lips softly as the faintest smile begged at the corners of his mouth.

Find the rest here

Since falling into the world of dramione, Draco having a friendship with Crookshanks has utterly captured my heart to the point I needed there to be more art of the two of them. A big shout out to @artwith-david for not only this amazing piece but for fueling the fire that made me write this little drabble.

#draco malfoy #crookshanks #dramione #DHr #dramione drabble

[ellieauthor]

"I hear she got another one this morning," Blaise says, voice projected loudly enough for the whole Great Hall to hear.

It is now common knowledge that Hermione Granger has been receiving daily flowers for the entire month leading up to Valentine's day, and the whole school is dying to know who they're from.

"Weasley," is Pansy's guess.

"Too easy," Theo argues. "I bet it's Potter. Or that Macguire tosser. McDonald? Mc something."

"McLaggen," is Draco's surly response.

But Blaise has another theory.

"Draco, don't you know quite a bit about flowers?"

He does. They know he does.

They all do; it's a foundational topic of early pureblood education. And with a mother like Narcissa, Draco is even better informed than most.

"Draco," Pansy gasps. "You're blushing!"

And that's all it takes for the rumors to start.

Blaise sits back, smile smug and proud, watching it all happen 

He knows the minute the theory reaches Granger.

They're sitting in potions, a class all eighth years share together. Lavender Brown whispers something to Hermione that has her looking toward the area of the classroom unofficially reserved for the Slytherins.

Her eyes linger on his friend a little longer than necessary. And over the next few days, her behavior becomes less combative.

Draco, for his part, panics.

"It's not me, Zabini!"

"Of course it's not," Blaise says, rolling his eyes. "It lacks any subtlety, and from what I've heard the arrangements.themselves are measley and plebian. Borderline pathetic."

"So then why--"

"It doesn't matter as long as she thinks it's you." Blaise works hard not to roll his eyes, but come on. For all his potions skill, the boy could be thick.

"But how does that--"

"You can figure the rest out for yourself, mate." Blaise pats Draco on the shoulder before leaving his befuddled friend to his own devices. He only has the capacity for so much charity.

Not that he's doing this entirely selflessly.

The pair have been circling each other like idiots for weeks, and he's bored of it.

This, though? He finds far less boring.

To Draco's credit, he takes over just fine from there. He begins to pay the witch more blatant attention, meets her at night in the library.

She says yes when he asks her to dinner on the fourteenth, and Blaise knows it's only a matter of time before they become official.

The morning after the date, Draco floats into the Slytherin common, looking sleepy but satisfied.

"Can't thank you enough," he says, grinning like an absolute madman.

"It was nothing," Blaise says, and he means it.

Draco struts away with a confidence Blaise hasn't seen since their fourth year. He's almost to the top of the stairs when he stops, like he's suddenly remembered something. "Where'd you get the flowers from, anyways?"

At that, Blaise's usual smirk shifts to a diabolical smile.

"I didn't. I just started the rumors."

Draco looks perplexed. "But then who--"

"Someone having a much worse Valentine's day than you, I'd bet."

Elsewhere in the castle, a drunk and inconsolably angry redhead shoves his last bouquet of roses into a burning fireplace, muttering something about a "stupid bloody ferret."

#dhr #dhr drabble #dramione drabble #dramione ficlet #dramione #draco malfoy #hermione granger #draco x hermione #blaise zabini #ellieauthor

[whimsymanaged]

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

[princessma1foy]

“You know, Granger, I’m quite good at Potions.” Draco glared at her, annoyed.

She was scowling down at the textbook and muttering under her breath. He tried again. “Look, we got it right, I’m sure of it -“

“No, Malfoy! Amortentia is supposed to smell different to each person according to what attracts them, and all I smell is your stupid cologne - why you use so much is beyond me.” She huffed and rolled her eyes before returning to the textbook.

Draco stared at her, bemused. “That’s strange. It smells just like how it always has for me, I wonder why -“

“Oh ho!” Professor Slughorn had walked up behind them. “Excellent as always, Miss Granger, Mr Malfoy. Never seen a student produce finer!” He beamed down at them.

Hermione’s jaw fell to the ground. “Wh-what? We got it correct? But we can’t have, it doesn’t smell like this to me…”

“People change, Miss Granger, as does what attracts them, hence why the potion may smell different to you now. Like I said, it’s a spectacular brew, practically perfect. Full marks to both of you for today!”

With that, Slughorn wandered away, leaving Draco staring with wide eyes at a stunned, blushing Hermione Granger as the intoxicating scent of her perfume wafted up his nose from the Amortentia bubbling happily between them.

#dhr drabble #ao3 writer #fanfic writer #fanfiction writer #writers on tumblr #dramione #dramione fandom #dramione microfic #hp microfic #dramione fanfic #microficmay2023 #dramione fluff #dramione fic #dramione ff #drabble #hehe they’re so cute #i’m writing more of this later

[extremewritersblock]

Drabble: “I wouldn’t mind if you ruined my life, Granger.”

“Quit following me, Malfoy.”

Hermione walked to the back wall of the Manor’s library. She heard the door close behind her and presumed that Malfoy hadn’t listened to her demand. 

“Why did you run away from the party?”

She had - quite literally - run from the room, but after what she’d overheard, she was no longer in the mood to be surrounded by any more of Lucius Malfoy’s cronies. 

“According to your father, I’m just some silly girl out to ruin your life.”

She turned to see him strolling towards her. Even in her angered state, she couldn't help but admire how good he looked in his suit. Bespoke and fit to the black tie occasion, he’d garnered stares from nearly every woman he passed tonight. It was the same at every party his parents threw. He was always the star.

Malfoy didn’t stop walking until he had her back pinned to the wall of books behind her. 

“I wouldn’t mind if you ruined my life, Granger.”

This wasn’t the reaction she had expected. She searched his eyes for their usual twinge of mockery, but it was absent. On the contrary, his look was pleading, silently asking her to understand the position he was in.

Pitted between his father and his secret girlfriend must be a tough spot. 

“I’m not in the business of converting ex-Death Eaters to the good side, but you might want to go let your father know that. He seems concerned.”

Malfoy sighed, running a hand through his neatly styled hair. He started to pace in front of her.

“Look, I don’t know what you heard but -”

“I’ll tell you exactly what I heard. I heard Lucius telling you to start distancing yourself from me. ‘She’s bad for your image’. Something along those lines, if I remember correctly.”

He stopped his stride and began to remove the cufflinks of his shirt. 

“I’m begging you to understand. From my father’s perspective, you and I are not supposed to be together - you go against everything my family believes in. To be associated with you romantically would completely ruin me and everything I've worked so hard to build -”

“Don’t you think I know that? Don’t you think I’m reminded of that at every. single. one. of these parties I attend?” She wanted to yell it, scream at the top of her lungs how much those truths hurt to hear, but she despised the thought of any more Malfoys listening in to this conversation. 

He shook his head, clearly frustrated at the direction their conversation was headed.

“You didn't let me finish. Those are his opinions, Granger, not mine. I couldn’t give a damn about any of those things -”

He reached to touch her face, grazing his hand across her cheek. Without thinking, she leaned her head into his palm, habitually, her eyes closed. She wanted to believe that what he was telling her was true.

“I want to be ruined by you.”

His voice was music to her ears, but his words were music to her heart.

“I’m done trying to be someone my parents want me to be. I’m not that person. I’ll - I’ll burn every bridge I’ve built if it means that you’ll be with me.” He let his finger slide lazily against her skin. She reveled in his touch. “Ruin me. If it means you’ll belong to me, I’ll destroy every part of my life that doesn’t accept you in it.”

She could feel his suspense as he waited to hear her thoughts, but she kept her eyes closed. Could it be that the future that she’d wanted for so long was finally achievable? It felt as though, if she were to open her eyes, reality would come and force their love back into hiding.

“Hermione.”

The use of her given name caused her to meet his gaze. If looks could burn, she would have been an inferno. 

“Please, tell me what you’re thinking. I’m begging you.” He removed his hand from her cheek and found her arm. He brought her hand to his lips, placing chaste kisses along the tender skin of her wrist.

“It’s become exhausting,” she said. 

“What has?” he asked between kisses.

“Pretending to hate you.”

Draco paused for what felt like an eternity. Hermione felt the weight of the moment - like the fate of their relationship hung in the balance of his next words.

“Then let’s stop pretending.”

She let out a sigh she hadn’t realized she’d been holding in.

“You’re serious? You’re willing to risk - everything?”

He grabbed her hand, pulling her into him. His hold felt sure and strong, like no matter what they were about to face, they would face it together.

“It’s time we let everyone know that you’re mine.”

#dhr drabbles #draco x hermione #hermione x draco #Draco Malfoy #Hermione Granger #dhr drabble #HP Fandom #harry potter #dramione #dramione drabbles #dramione prompts #Draco Malfoy x Hermione granger #pining draco #ok I'm done with drabbles for now #I have two long fics #that I have neglected terribly #a03 writer

[sodamnradd]

“Heya, mate. Is Hermione Granger around?”

Draco leaned over the counter, giving the pathetic, gap-toothed wanker sporting a Flourish & Blotts t-shirt a bored look. “Hermione Granger?” he intoned as if he had never heard that name before.

Gap-Tooth shuffled uneasily. “Yeah. She works here. Doesn’t she?”

“Does she?” Draco inspected his nails.

Gap-Tooth wandered off awkwardly, pretending to scan the shelves.

Draco’s eyes narrowed when he paused at the Love Potions, kept under strict lock and key.

Gap-Tooth asked, “Erm are you able to—?”

“No,” said Draco, point-blank.

Something about Draco’s expression made him pale, and he was out the door less than ten seconds later.

When Gap-Tooth was gone, Draco glanced down and said, “You’re all clear.”

Dusting off her trousers, Granger rose to her feet and picked up the inventory scroll again. “I’ve told him I’m not interested,” she said, purposely avoiding Draco’s eye.

“You didn’t drive the point. He probably thinks he’s being cute stalking you everywhere.”

“It’s fine.”

“You don’t even visit Flourish and Blotts anymore.”

“Ordering books in the mail is more efficient.”

He might have believed her if it weren’t for the countless times she’d returned late from her lunch break, carrying teetering piles of new books. But ever since Gap-Tooth started working there, lunchtimes were reduced to eating soggy sandwiches in the lab.

Gap-Tooth returned two days later.

Granger didn’t see him coming through the shopfront window and he caught her unaware, shelving cloud-shaped vials of Dreamless Sleep. His voice made her jump, a couple of bottles flying out of her hands and shattering.

Draco groaned, enchanting the mop and pail to clean up the mess but keeping his distance while Granger attempted to dodge Gap-Tooth’s advances.

Gap-Tooth: Something, something “…thought you worked here but…” gesturing to Draco.

Granger, giggling awkwardly: “Did he? Draco’s such a…” Something.

Draco raised a brow, wondering what she’d called him because it almost sounded affectionate.

Gap-Tooth: Mumble, mumble “…go out sometime?”

Granger more awkward giggling, cheeks pink: “…so busy… not really dating… you’re nice but…”

Gap-Tooth, realising he was losing his chance: “…just one date… promise I…” Stepping closer.

Granger, nearly tripping over the oscillating mop in her retreat: “…it’s just that I’m not… I don’t…”

Gap-Tooth, even closer, grinning impishly, hideous teeth on full display: Something, something “…casual? You look like you could use some fun.”

Draco bristled. The audacity of this wanker.

Having had enough, he rounded the counter and stepped in between Gap-Tooth and Granger. “Did you ask her out?”

Gap-Tooth frowned, looking a little afraid. “Yeah, so?”

“Did she say yes?”

“She was just about to—”

Draco turned to Granger. “Were you about to say yes?”

“No,” she mumbled, dropping her gaze. She was too bloody nice for her own good.

Lucky for her, Draco wasn’t.

“There’s your answer,” said Draco, shooing Gap-Tooth towards the door. “Stop harassing her.”

Gap-Tooth looked at Granger, but she refused to look back. Disheartened, he made his way to the door.

Draco called out, “Oh, and if you bother her at Flourish and Blotts again, I’ll turn you into a rat and dump you in our lab cage.”

“Malfoy!” Hermione swatted Draco’s arm once Gap-Tooth was gone, but her eyes were bright with laughter. “That was so unkind.”

“Yes. And?” He waited.

She sighed as if it physically pained her to say, “Thank you.”

He grinned, pleased. Then tugged at a curl that had come loose from her clip. “And?”

She stepped closer, looking up at him with large brown eyes. “And you were right.”

“And?” Draco’s stomach fluttered. He was usually so composed, but nothing about Granger made him feel ordinary.

“And…” She rose to her tiptoes and locked her hands behind his neck, parting her lips in anticipation as they met halfway. “…maybe we should start telling people about us.”

(638 words, prompt: Yes. And? from Twitter)

#dramione #draco malfoy #hermione granger #draco x hermione #hermione x draco #dhr #drabble #sodamnrad #sodamnraddrabbles

[draqo-pctter]

so kiss me // a dramione drabble

words: 817 | tags: eighth year, astronomy tower, love confessions

Hermione shouldn’t have let Draco’s apparent change of heart after Christmas break get under her skin. But, months of tentative friendship and fingers brushing in the Potions classroom had buried themselves beneath her palms and her neck, pushed deeper by the silence and downcast eyes that met her when classes resumed. Draco entered the classroom as the bell rang, and was out of his seat halfway to the door by the time it rang again.

In Muggle Studies, he kept his back angled to her and refused to acknowledge when she answered a question. Arithmancy and Charms passed in much the same fashion. Hermione hoped that, as winter gave way to spring, his sudden change of heart would thaw with the ice that clung to the Whomping Willow. When the songbirds returned and warmth still remained absent from his frigid gray eyes, she knew she had to say something.

Harry had left her the Marauder's Map – an apology for not returning to Hogwarts for Eighth Year. For six months, it had stayed tucked inside her beaded bag, unused and getting bent between an ever changing load of books, quills and parchment. Her finger trailed down hallways and floors as she searched desperately for one name.

There he was: Draco Malfoy, pacing in circles around the Astronomy Tower. Before she could talk herself out of it, Hermione grabbed her wand and pulled a light jacket over her pajamas. Sneaking out past curfew brought a thrill of excitement she’d missed, tempered only by the anxious energy bubbling up in her chest. The halls were mercifully quiet, and her footsteps didn’t echo off the stone walls as she made her way up to the tower.

His back was to her when Hermione reached the top of the stairs. Tension clung to his shoulders, pulling the white button-up he still wore tight against his skin. Shaggy blond hair blew in the evening breeze, briefly distracting her from the task at hand. And when Draco finally turned mid-step, the oxygen in the air vanished.

Moments passed as the pair studied each other, Hermione at a loss for words and Draco looking like he’d rather jump than be alone with her. She took one step forward, and he thankfully didn’t make a move toward the railing.

“What did I do?” Hermione asked before she lost her nerve. Draco’s eyes were painfully blank as he regained his composure.

“I don’t know–”

“Don’t lie to me, Draco.” Another step forward, fueled by the taste of his name on her tongue. “What did I do?”

A heartbeat, then –

“Nothing.”

Hermione chewed on her bottom lip as she crossed her arms over her chest. He was beautiful in the moonlight, almost ethereal. If she didn’t know him, she might think he was an angel whose wings had been left behind in Heaven.

“Then why–”

“Granger, please.” Draco ran an uneasy hand through his hair. “Go back to your dorm, and–”

“Not until you tell me why.” Hermione took another step closer, freeing her lip from her teeth. “Tell me why you hate me.”

She watched as a myriad of emotions finally broke through his carefully crafted nonchalance. Grief, frustration, hope – Draco shook his head as if to clear them from his mind.

“I don’t hate you.” He sounded pained. Good, Hermione thought. “I could never hate you.”

“Then why–”

“Because I can’t stand the thought of losing you, Hermione.” She nearly wept at the way he said her name. “Your friendship, your trust – you – I can’t do it. And it isn’t fair to you, either. I might want you, but I refuse to spend every waking moment near you, wanting to kiss you, to touch you, knowing that I can’t. So, it’s best if you just go back to your dorm–”

“So kiss me.”

Hermione tilted her chin up to counteract the flush blooming across her cheeks and neck. Draco stared at her as if he were seeing her for the first time.

“What?”

“So kiss me.” She shrugged, as if she hadn’t just opened herself up to the first person who could break her if he wanted. “Kiss me, touch me, get to know me. Fuck, I might let you love me, Draco. But you need to–”

He moved faster than she’d expected, his hands winding into her hair and tilting her head back so that he could press his lips to hers. The kiss was frazzled – clumsy, hot, open-mouthed – and Hermione matched him movement for movement. Her lips parted the moment his tongue asked for entrance, and she lost herself in the taste and the smell of him.

They stayed in the Astronomy Tower that night, kissing, touching, and laughing until dawn broke over the horizon. When the first rays of sunrise sparkled in his eyes, Hermione understood what he meant. And she knew that she wouldn’t be able to walk away from him now.

#dramione #hp #dramione drabble #draco malfoy #hermione granger #draco x hermione #hermione x draco #dramione eighth year #eighth year #astronomy tower #love confessions #dhr #ohthedrarry ao3

[chronophobique]

Cursed!Draco as a Triwizard Tournament champion

— 1135 words

content warning: drowning (no one dies I promise)

Draco knew, since the moment he thought he saw a green flash hit him during his heated encounter with that one student from Ravenclaw—whose name he’d never cared to learn—on the train, that something was wrong with him.

He could feel it every time he climbed stairs, when he found himself panting like an old man as if he’d never got used to climbing them in the past seven years.

But he wasn’t going to pay a visit to Madam Pomfrey just now and ruin his chances at finally proving himself.

Not when the Cup had chosen him. Not another Chosen one or a brave heart, like it had in the past. Him. The only student in this school who had been an Azkaban convict.

It hadn’t enchanted him, at first. The opposite, in fact. The war had made him a target—quite rightly. Now certainly wasn’t the time to be in the spotlight.

But it was his opportunity to show them he wasn’t the boy who had blindly listened and obeyed to stronger than him anymore. And he wasn’t going to miss it just because of some pain in his chest.

“Ten galleons that someone will take care of his case before he has time to step a foot into that arena,” he heard a Hogwarts student not so discreetly tell a Durmstrang student as he passed them in the corridor. It was the day before the First Task.

The dark-haired girl met his gaze, then, considering her answer, when a familiar bushy head interrupted her train of thoughts, a finger pointed at her interlocutor’s face. “We don’t bet on the champions’ lives, Darwin. Twenty points from Gryffindor.”

“You can’t do that,” Darwin exclaimed indignantly. “We’re from the same house!”

“All the more reason to teach you a lesson,” Granger snapped back, eyebrows drawn severely as she walked away, barely giving him a glance.

As with his trial in which she had testified on his behalf, it wasn’t the first time she put her nose in his business to get him out of an uncomfortable situation, and all it did was make him more confused. Angry. Ashamed.

The third time was during the Second Task, when he realised with horror and ever more incomprehension that she was the one thing that had been stolen from him.

It was already a surprise that he hadn’t drown in the first few minutes of the task, given that he had been denied access to the library due to his past and exposition to the Dark Arts and therefore had been unable to find a way to breathe underwater, but seeing her floating amongst the hostile merpeople for him to save really was the cherry on the cake.

As his lungs painfully rejected the freshwater of the lake, he hesitated. None of this made sense. What the fuck did it mean, Granger being stolen from him? What would it mean to others?

Still, he’d made it this far. Somehow. And before his brain could even process it, he was grabbing her by the waist and pulling her to the surface as if his four members now had a mind of their own.

Or at least, he tried, because as soon as he started kicking the water it suddenly felt like claws were closing around his heart, dragging him down.

Down.

Down.

Overcome by panic, he kicked harder, but his efforts were in vain. In just a few minutes, he lost his hold on Granger, breathed what he was convinced to be his last, and let the depths of the lake swallow him.

He regained consciousness with a start, coughing up all the water that had seeped into his lungs.

“Mr Malfoy, are you feeling alright?”

“Obviously not,” he rasped, lying on his side, going completely still when he noticed Pomfrey wasn’t the only witch present in the tent.

As soaked as he was, a few curls already sticking up on either side of her face, Granger was looking straight ahead. Like the last place on Earth she wanted to be right now was on this stool but she had no choice.

Looking down, he quickly realised why; her hand was laced with his.

Appalled, he tried to wrench it out of her grasp, but she held on strongly.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Madam Pomfrey warned, a close eye on his vitals.

“Why not?” he asked through his teeth, goosebumps all over his skin.

“Because you’ve been cursed, Mr Malfoy.” She let that sink in, probably unaware that it was a daily occurrence for him. “And whoever hit you with it didn’t want you dead, but miserable for the rest of your life.”

That didn’t explain why Granger was holding his bloody hand. Merlin. He’d never had anyone hold his hand like this before.

“Well, clearly it failed. As you can see, I’m alive and don’t feel particularly worse than usual. Now tell her to let go of me,“ he groaned.

“The thing is you shouldn’t be alive. And you have Miss Granger to thank for that.”

“I didn’t do anything—” the latter said, still not looking at him.

“Voluntarily, no, but it doesn’t change the fact that you did.”

He saw her stifle a laugh and wondered if he was imagining the pinker tint to her cheeks.

“Care to explain?”

“You were hit by an Octopus curse,” Pomfrey revealed, point blank, lips pursed. “A rare curse which forced your body to undergo certain changes in a very short amount of time, such as growing two extra hearts.”

Rendered speechless, Draco could only listen, though the warmth of Granger’s skin against his own was irritably distracting.

“Two hearts you’ve already lost,” she continued in a graver tone. “As one was apparently stopped with the Killing Curse and another deprived of oxygen for too long.”

“One heart left, lucky me,” he muttered sarcastically after a few seconds, sitting up and locking eyes with Granger. “And what should I be thanking you for, hm?”

Eyes as dark as he’d ever seen them, the witch looked like she wished he’d never resurfaced.

“You remaining heart, it seems, only beats because of me, Malfoy.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. What an insufferable show-off. “Yes, I figured,” he snapped. “What I meant was—”

“Because,” she cut him off, squeezing his hand so hard he feared for a second his bones would break. “I make it flutter every time our eyes meet,” she spat, her voice full of reproach. “And makes it beat faster when I touch you. I keep you alive.”

“In simple terms, she has your life between her hands,” Pomfrey added as if she fucking needed to. “So I suggest you listen carefully to what I have to say.”

#dramione #draco x hermione #hermione x draco #dramione drabble #dhr fandom #draco malfoy #hermione granger #harry potter #dramione fanfic #dramione fanfiction #dhr ficlet #chronophobiquedrabbles

[pixydustworld]

The marriage law was announced at 2pm on a Tuesday.

By 2:15 Hermione had already drafted a motion to dismiss the law entirely. It was a good motion, too. If she’d sent a copy to Ron, he would’ve replied with: wow! lots of words! good stuff!

At 2:17 her motion was denied.

“It’s best to just accept defeat.” Malfoy said from his side of the office, bookshelves neat, papers all stacked in order. “You won’t win this one.”

“I’m not in the habit of giving up.” Hermione snapped. Her side of the office was cluttered, less pristine. Her bookshelf had a nasty habit of overflowing all over the floor, stacks of books balancing precariously on every surface. “A fire hazard.” Malfoy had sneered at her once, “Breaking several codes.”

“Hm.” Malfoy said, “I hadn’t noticed.” He was smiling softly, like he’d just told the funniest joke in the world. Waiting, almost patiently for her to smile. Stupid man with his stupid grin, Hermione wanted to throw a book at his head.

“This is archaic.” Hermione hissed. “The Ministry has gone too far. They can't force us to marry anyone.”

Even as she spoke, a squirming feeling of doubt was beginning to take root in her chest — being friends with Harry came with many things. Companionship and love, but it also came with a healthy distrust of the government (like a free gift basket! but terrible one).

Malfoy ignored her complaints. "Marriage Acts aren't as mid-evil as you're making them out to be." He said, with that annoying voice he used when he knew he was right about something, "They serve a purpose."

"A purpose?" Hermione could practically feel the beginnings of an aneurysm. A fitting death, slumped over her desk, surrounded by unfinished documents and discovered by Draco Malfoy, "Are you actually defending this?"

She would have to find a new partner. A new office, one where he wasn't constantly surrounding her, swimming on the edge of her peripheral vision. Maybe Dean Thomas would let her set up a current workplace in his records closet, he was always bragging about how it was big enough for him to take naps in during work —

"No." Malfoy said, somehow even more amused now, "I don't support it."

"Oh." Hermione said, very eloquently, "That's good."

"But," Malfoy continued, still distinctly unruffled while Hermione was very ruffled, "Most people will be unfazed. It's a Pure-Blood tradition. My parents have always planned to arrange a marriage contract.” Malfoy shrugged, “It’s not absolutely unheard of.”

“Well," Hermione said, out of breath from all the pacing she was doing, "Your parents are terrible.”

“Of course.” Malfoy said, like it was obvious. “They would never allow me the opportunity to sully the Malfoy name. Producing the correct heir is the only thing I’ll ever be good at.”

Hermione frowned. “Hearing about your family isn’t good for our working relationship. It makes me feel bad for you.”

“We can’t have that.” Malfoy said.

“No,” she agreed with a sigh, “we can’t have that.”

“So, tell me Granger. What is your plan?” His grin became less self indulgent, more fake. “You’ll have to marry someone. It'll undoubtably be the event of the season — have a fiancé you’ve been hiding from me?”

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “Do you think I could hide anything from you?”

Malfoy knew when she changed the scent of her shampoo, when she switched up her coffee order — he even knew if she was sleeping less than usual. It was impossibly annoying to be around someone so observant, someone so intent on cataloguing her every move.

"If I had a secret fiancé, which I don't, I'm confident that you're competent enough to have sniffed him out by now."

Malfoy responding grin was slow and syrupy. "You think I'm competent?"

“Piss off, Malfoy.”

“Is he shorter than me? Is that it? Didn’t want to introduce us because you knew he’d feel bad?”

“You’re taller than everyone.” Hermione said, annoyed, again, “You would obviously be taller than my imaginary fiancé. You’re like an angelic giraffe.”

“You think I’m angelic?”

“No.”

"Two compliments on top of each other, are you feeling alright, Granger?"

"Shut up."

At 2:20, Hermione began to clean her side of the office, desperate for an excuse not to talk to Malfoy.

At 2:22, Harry slammed through her door, completely demolishing the (very little) progress Hermione had made in cleaning up her side of the office.

“I’ll marry you.” Harry said, slightly out of breath, like he’d sprinted all the way to her office, “Do you think we can kiss without making a face? We’ll have to practice.”

“I’m not marrying you.” Hermione said from the floor behind her desk, “You are engaged to Theo.” She was laying on her back with a book covering her face, feeling rightfully sorry for herself.

“Theo won’t mind.” Harry said in the voice he reserved for whenever he wanted people to listen to him (i am harry potter! and i did not spill mustard on the couch! you have to believe me, i saved the world!) “It will be quick. I can get us rings before the day is over.”

"No." Hermione said, still on the floor, "I've gone along with enough of your stupid ideas. This is too much."

Because, despite it all, Harry would do this. Without hesitation, blind loyalty and unwavering determination — Harry would marry her and be pleased with his choices. He was lovely, but at times, Harry could be a misguided idiot.

"This is where you draw the line?" Malfoy hummed, "Interesting to catch a glimpse into the inner workings of your mind."

Finally scrambling to her feet (after a few more seconds of wallowing) Hermione was horrified to find a familiar look on Harry's face — one that promised something stupid.

"I'll figure it out. " Harry said, with a shrug that reminded Hermione of their childhood (occidentally, the stress headache she was feeling also reminded her of their childhood). He pointed a stoic finger at her. "Don't make a face when I kiss you."

Then, he left.

“Theo wouldn’t mind,” Malfoy said in a helpful voice, “He’d probably marry you as well. Would it be Granger-Potter-Nott? Or Granger-Nott-Potter? Better figure that out soon. Potter seems eager to find those rings.”

Hermione threw a book at his head.

Malfoy caught it with ease, his stupid Quidditch hands.

“I have an idea,” Malfoy said after a moment.

Hermione ignored him. “There has to be a way out of this.” She was pacing again, sensible shoes kicked off to the corner (where she’d undoubtedly forget them) “I could write another motion? A longer one this time. With more quotes.”

“Marry me instead.”

Hermione stopped pacing. “Excuse me?”

“I’m your best option.”

“I have many options —

“Weasley already tricked someone into marrying him and Potter is engaged to my only friend.” He frowned, in a mocking sort of way. “Did I leave anyone out?”

“No.” Hermione said flatly. “You didn’t.”

“Alright then. Marry me.”

“Hah.” She said, “Hah. I take back everything I’ve ever said about you. Malfoy, you are funny.”

“I’m being serious.” He said, looking annoyed. Fantastic, they were both annoyed. Like they always were.

“We can get married before the law passes and then you can do what you do best.” Malfoy continued, like that was a totally normal thing to say.

“Which is?” Without her shoes, the height difference was unbearably noticeable. She had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. At some point he'd stopped being a willowy wraith of a person and began the unfortunate process of filling out.

He didn’t look away. “Destroy everyone’s expectations and free the downtrodden.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “What would you get out of this arrangement?”

Malfoy shrugged, too practiced to be nonchalant. “I’d be married to a war hero. It would do wonders for my reputation.”

“And you would be married to me.” Hermione said, beginning to feel like this was getting too real, “We both know that would never happen.”

“Never?”

“Never.” She agreed.

He wasn’t smiling that lazy smile from before, this one was different. Sharper. “I don’t think that’s true.”

“Besides,” Hermione continued on loudly, “you’re no gentleman. No need to pretend. I don’t need saving, I’ll figure this out myself.”

“You don’t need to.” Malfoy said, “I will help. I want to fuck over the Ministry for many reasons, but mainly because they declined your motion.”

He was on her side of the office now, leaning casually against her desk, inches away from where she stood. He was too pretty up close, like staring at the sun.

“It was very good.” Hermione breathed.

Malfoy nodded, almost too good at pretending to be sincere.

“I’m sure it was good. You touched it. Everything you touch is golden.”

“You truly want to help me?”

“I’ve only offered several times.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “All to fuck over the Ministry? No other reason?”

“Maybe I want you all to myself.”

Hermione's eye twitched.

"Don't tease me." She managed to hiss. "Not about this."

She saw when he realized, a flicker of excitement in his eyes — when he noticed her apparent misery at how completely and helplessly she was drawn to him.

"I'd never dream of it." Malfoy said warmly, "You could kill me with ease, only an idiot would be careless around you."

She thought of all the long nights they spent together, crammed in their tiny little office. How she looked forward to her day, if only to see his stupidly pointy face. How she tried to date, but couldn’t. Because it wasn’t right — her dates were too kind, too short.

Not him.

How, through everything, he was the first person she thought of in the morning, the person she thought of in the darkness of the night, when no one could see her wandering hands — the person she looked at for a challenge, for relief and support.

Despite her best attempts, Hermione Granger had fallen in love with Draco Malfoy and now, here he was, seeming to share in her suffering.

“We’d have to consummate the marriage.” She said, giving him one last out. “You’d have to see me naked.”

“I’m sure I’ll survive.”

“I’m very bossy,” she said, “and I work all the time.”

“Good thing we share an office.”

“I’m not easy to love.”

Malfoy scoffed. “It’s been easy enough for me.”

He was close enough to touch, so uncharacteristically open. Looking down at her with fondness she didn’t know he possessed.

“I’m selfish.” Malfoy warned, “Do not forget that. I will help you destroy this law and anything else you want. Burn it all down if you want to. But I won’t be letting you go. Not now, after I've gotten you."

“I suppose that’s fine.” Hermione said softly, watching as his hand moved to touch her face, warm against her skin. "It'll be bearable to be around you, I suppose."

As he held her face in his hands, Hermione watched as his grin transform into something different, something new — a smile she'd only seen glimpses of, one only for her. "I'll work very hard to make our marriage a tolerable one." He said.

"Good," Hermione breathed, stretching up to kiss him, to finally press her lips against his, "I can't wait."

Hermione was married at 3pm on a Tuesday.

It was a small ceremony.

Harry, although he'd never publicly admit it, was relieved.

Despite his best attempts, he would've made a face when Hermione had kissed him.

#dhr #dhr drabble #hermione x draco #dramione fanfic #drabble #dramione #hermione granger #draco malfoy #draco malfoy and hermione granger #harry potter #dramione drabble #ron weasley #draco x hermione #size difference #d/hr #dhr fanfiction #dhr fanfic #dramione ficlet #marriage law #hp fic #pixydustworld