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jomiddlemarch · 2 months

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I loved and guessed at you, you construed me

It was not that he was waiting for her as much as that he was most often in the faculty sitting room at this hour and so was she and the staff knew to leave out a full tea service and also a magically chilled bottle of very dry amontillado, the color of her eyes. And then to tell anyone else that the room was occupied and that they were not to be disturbed.

It wasn’t that he was waiting for her, but he did look up when she came into the room, letting the ancient, rare and precious book he held slip out of his hand, an instinctive, wandless spell keeping it from clattering onto the floor.

“You cut your hair,” Draco said.

Any pretense to eloquence, savoir-faire, or intellectual rigor associated with achieving his Potions Mastery and Mwandamizi kemia had been decimated by the four words, uttered in a tone of complete shock, which given his Pureblood upbringing meant flat, with a hint of scorn. He had spent the past twelve years working to convince Hermione he wasn’t that man anymore, the one who would have meant the scorn, the fault-finding appraisal, cold and superior and not terribly clever underneath it all.

(The one he’d felt doomed to become before the chandelier fell in his family’s ballroom. Before she’d testified to keep him out of Azkaban. Before she’d returned his formal letter of apology with a brief addendum You were a child, Draco an absolution he didn’t deserve.)

Blaise always said he was his own worst enemy. Theo always nodded and offered a glass of single malt Scotch. Neville always shrugged and tried to reassure Draco, meandering through some nonsense about how they’d all had to grow up too soon, let down by the adults, forced to experience trauma that they’d been lucky to survive and a plate of buttered toast would soon set him to rights.

Luna changed the subject and talked about some possibly fictional chimerical creature to take his mind off his shortcomings. It never worked but he appreciated her effort and consistency.

“I suppose that’s better than ‘Bloody hell.’ And “Holy fucking Christ.’ Harry reverts to Muggle obscenity when he’s really surprised,” Hermione replied. “You only told me what I already know, as I didn’t accidentally fall into a Mongolian silver scissor-bush.”

“Is that a thing?” Draco asked.

He had to keep talking but there was a lot to take in, the startlingly gorgeous line of her bare neck, the angle of her jaw, how her eyes looked enormous, luminous. How her chestnut hair was swept across her brow and came to a delicate little point on the nape of her neck, all these hidden aspects suddenly marvels revealed. Suddenly, astonishingly breath-taking and erotic and also heart-breaking, because he’d wanted so to run his fingers through her loose hair, to stand behind her and draw a brush through her curls. Watching her eyes get drowsy in the dressing-table’s looking-glass, resting a hand on her bare shoulder and feeling the tickling silk of her hair. He’d wanted to cast the spell that ended the charm securing her chignon, to pull out the jeweled pins she used to keep her braids in the coronet around her head.

“No. It sounds like something Luna would mention though,” Hermione shrugged. It was as if he’d never seen the gesture before.

“It’s a lot to take in,” he said.

“It’s actually not. It’s both literally and figuratively not,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Snape being a double-agent in love with Harry’s mum was a lot to take in. Any Sunday lunch at Molly Weasley’s table is a lot to take in. War and Peace in the original Russian without a translation charm is a lot to take in. I took off a few inches—”

“A few inches?”

“Fine, I got the first professional, Muggle, haircut of my adult life because I was fed up with my hair and charms and Sleekeezy and glamours, so many glamours, and you would think I have announced I am Grindelwald’s secret lovechild,” she said in a tone of complete exasperation, pursing her lips in a matching moué he felt an impossible urge to kiss very thoroughly and until she was gasping his name.

He was fairly certain that action would not be requited, not now, and potentially not ever.

But definitely not now.

She was now almost glaring at him, waiting for a response.

If this was ever to become something beyond hopeless pining, if he were ever to be allowed to call her sweetheart and coax her back to bed, he couldn’t get the next part wrong.

“Are you happy with it?” he said. It was a gamble, saying anything would have been a gamble, but there was a chance he’d gotten it right.

He’d surprised her, that he could tell instantly, though her face changed very subtly. It meant no one else who’d seen her had asked and considered she might be. No one else had thought about why she’d done it, only what they thought of it. Evidently, both Weasley and Potter had indicated a negative response, Weasley likely driven by his own unrealized Pureblood upbringing, where all witches wanted the long hair associated with power and Potter never wanted her to be anything other than she’d been in their youth, when her unruly hair was her most obvious signifier.

“Yes, I think I am,” she said.

“That’s good. That’s what matters,” he said. He was supposed to reference the book he’d been reading or follow-up on their most recent conversation about geopolitics or whether Chopin was a Squib or at the very least offer her something to drink, the tea first and then, when she demurred, the sherry. But all of those would require him to look away from her and he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Not quite yet.

“I ought to have done it a long time ago,” she said. She spoke without her usual forthright confidence, but also without any of the regret the statement might have implied. She sounded hesitant, as if she wanted something from him she felt she shouldn’t. Or shouldn’t ask for.

It was tempting to make some sort of declaration, offer reassurance or an argument. But he’d gotten this far by asking her a question.

“Why do you say that?”

“I don’t know. It would have been a way to move on. Grow up. Make my life easier, decide it for myself,” she said. She was watching him very closely as she spoke. She liked that he’d asked, though she wasn’t smiling. “It wouldn’t have been grief or some kind of, I don’t know, unhinged trauma response.”

It would very much have been a response to the colossal trauma she’d experienced if she’d hacked it all off after being tortured, and it wouldn’t have been unhinged when one considered the myriad extremely risky alternatives she might have chosen, but Draco wasn’t about to ruin everything. Even as his own worst enemy, he could keep from doing that.

“It could have been just something you do when you’re in your twenties, trying something out. Like, going to the Maldives or studying Norn. Learning earth magic from tribal elders in Namib.”

“Only you would saying learning earth magic in Namib is something you do in your twenties,” Draco said wryly. “Most people just go to the pub and fret a lot.”

“You didn’t,” she said.

“I think it’s well established I’m not most people,” he said.

“No. You’re not. You’re the only person who didn’t tell me cutting my hair was a terrible mistake,” she said. “As if it could even remotely compare to the other terrible mistakes I’ve made.”

“It’s not a terrible mistake,” he said. “And you’re the person I know best whose made the fewest terrible mistakes in her life and we can sit here drinking sherry talking about it because of it.”

“My parents wouldn’t agree,” she said.

“Neither would mine. I wonder how people grow up when they don’t have to discover their parents were deeply, entirely wrong about something absolutely crucial to survival,” Draco said.

“We could ask Blaise Zabini,” Hermione said after very clearly Thinking About It, a little crease appearing between her eyebrows.

“Too risky,” Draco replied. “It’s only the husbands people talk about but people have a way of disappearing when they ask questions about his mother.”

“No one would comment on her haircut,” Hermione said wistfully. “What a bloody icon.”

Draco laughed, startled.

“You’re enchanting,” he blurted out. Stupid, gauche, impulsive—he could go on (and on) about how ill-considered it had been.

“Well, I am a witch,” she said. She did not seem put off. In fact, she smiled at him, a little shyly. “Goes with the territory—”

“You enchant me. Bewitch me,” he said, throwing caution to the winds. “You don’t want anyone to comment on how you look, so I shouldn’t but you’re exquisite—”

He broke off, fearing he’d broken it all. She was still in the room and he still had all his bits and bobs, when he knew she was a dab hand at wandless curses. It was rather late to decide discretion was the better part of valor, but better late than never.

“I didn’t do it for you,” she said.

“No,” he replied.

“I didn’t do it only for you,” she clarified. “But I was curious to see how you’d react.”

“Did you have a hypothesis? You usually do,” he said.

“Yes. You’ve exceeded it slightly,” she said. There was a gleam in those sherry-brown eyes and when she tilted her head to the side, he understood the vampire’s insatiable lust.

“I can do better than slightly,” he said, half-dazed with the realization that she was requiting far more than he’d ever imagined. And that she’d imagined his response to seeing her bare neck, had wanted his admiration. He got up from his chair and crossed the room to her, standing close enough to take her in his arms. “I can do a wide margin. Prodigious. Overwhelmingly—”

“I like prodigious,” she said and he leaned in and kissed her parted lips softly, then deeply, one hand at her waist, the other cupping her cheek. The urge to possess her was tremendous, held in check only by an immense and constant tenderness, the moon that could pull the devouring tide back from the shore.

“Can I see overwhelmingly?” she whispered. “For comparison—”

“Of course,” he answered and moved to kiss her neck. He tasted the pulse of her carotid, sucking gently where he wanted to nip her. He moved back up to the hollow behind her ear, grazing her lobe with his tongue, then murmured,

“You cut your hair. I love it.”

#dramione #hermione x draco #draco POV #post-hogwarts #epilogue what epilogue #hermione gets a haircut #romance #pining #always some extra worldbuilding #references to lots of characters #had so much fun I wrote a second part #that one's hermione POV

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heichouux · 20 days

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My Friends, Graduation Day 1999. Photographed by Dennis Creevey

Top (left to right): Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, Draco Malfoy Bottom (left to right): Dean Thomas, Hermione Granger, Ginny Weasley

(Thought it’d be cool to draw some fanart of a Draco/Luna fic I’m currently working on. Seems like Dennis followed in his older brother's footsteps by taking photos don't look, I'm crying)

#harry potter #fanfic #draco malfoy #draco x luna #luna lovegood #neville longbottom #ginny weasley #hermione granger #dean thomas #fanart #harry potter fanart #epilogue what epilogue

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weeklydrarryficrecs · 9 months

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The Ordeal of Being Known by louisfake

Summary:

When Auror Potter is anonymously cursed with silence by being forced to hide his own voice inside his mind, there's unfortunately only one person in the country with the qualifications to fix it: Certified and Licensed Healer Legilimens, Draco Malfoy, specialist in Mind Curses and Afflictions. It's obviously a terrible idea, a disaster waiting to happen, but Draco's never been able to back down from a challenge... especially from Potter. Features fuzzy cartoon slippers, devious house elves, 90s music, and lots—LOTS—of memories. Ron is annoyingly hot, Hermione sees right through you, Harry is a powerful idiot, and Draco is a reclusive masochist that would buy an entire city if it would make a kid happy. (And Pansy is "5'2, I wanna dance with you, and I'm sophisticated fun.") Rating: Mature Word Count: 146,637 Link to Fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28864512/chapters/70806630

My Thoughts: A brilliant fic! It had the right amount of tension between Harry and Draco, making it hard to put down but not too much to be a stressful read. Much like the hot chocolate that often appeared in the story, The Ordeal of Being Known warmed my heart and soul.

Painting: The Penitent Magdalen by Georges de La Tour

#HPMD #drarry fic #drarry recs #drarry fic recs #auror harry #healer draco #epilogue what epilogue #house elves #for Rab #2023 #week 31

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asnarkyandironicusername · 7 months

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Day 12 of @remadoramicrofics - whisper

Tonks leaned against her husband’s side as his arm wrapped tightly around her waist, pinning her to him. Not that she was complaining; recently, she felt like she couldn’t get close enough to him or Teddy. They hadn’t left their house for three days after the battle, fearing they would return to an empty home. They probably wouldn’t have left on the fourth day, either, but that’s when the funerals had started.

They had gone and sat, voicelessly as some of their closest friends were eulogized. If there were bodies, they would watch the boxes be lowered into the ground, say their final goodbyes, and hurry home. They both practically held their breath until they’d make it through the front door to find, predictably, her mum holding Teddy.

Remus never fought to take him off of her, but Tonks had noticed that anytime she held him Remus wouldn’t let either of them out of sight. Like now, he had one arm around her waist and the other hand clutching the side of the bassinet as if worried it would bolt off.

“He’s darling when he sleeps,” Remus whispered. Teddy was sprawled in the bed, one knee tucked up nearly to his stomach and one little fist balled under his chin while the other arm stuck out at his side. His hair was a sandy brown like his father’s.

“He sleeps like you,” she whispered back, “taking up the whole bed.”

“I do not.”

“Oh, you do. I would know,” she said as she leaned her temple against his shoulder. “Do you…do you ever worry it isn’t over?” she asked softly.

Remus turned to look at her, she could feel it in the way he moved, but she couldn’t bring herself to look up at him. “Sometimes,” he whispered in a thick voice. “Sometimes none of this feels real. I’ll wake up in the middle of the night and be surprised to find you both here…to find me here at all.”

“Do you think the feeling will go away?”

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly, “I’d like to say yes, but it never went away before.”

He meant before the war, the second war. Tonks couldn’t imagine spending seventeen years feeling like this. Certainly not alone. She pressed closer to Remus, surprised to find it was even possible.

He added, “It wasn’t over then, though, so perhaps that’s why.” Tonks just nodded. “And it’s not entirely over now; we’re closer than we’ve ever been, but they’re still hunting down the last of the Death Eaters and Kingsley has a long road ahead of him.”

She felt him bow forward and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head before he said, “we should leave him be, Dora, we don’t want to wake him.”

Tonks nodded, but neither of them made an effort to move. “He’ll be alright,” she whispered, finally pulling him towards their bed.

He waited until she slid under the covers to settle in next to her. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close. “We will be, too,” he whispered in her ear before he kissed her. As sleep pulled her under, she thought of all of his whispered promises; he had yet to break one.

#remadora microfics #remadora fluff #remadora fanfic #remadora #remus lupin #nymphadora tonks #nymphadora lupin #teddy lupin #baby Teddy Lupin #remus lupin fanfiction #nymphadora tonks fanfic #remus x nymphadora #remus x tonks #fix it fic #epilogue what epilogue #remus and nymphadora survived the war and you can't convince me otherwise

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heyjude19-writing · 1 month

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why do you prefer to read only post-hog warts fics? can you expand on that? Does that include 8th year? Why or why not?

yup, my post-hogwarts fic preferences includes 8th year, i just love anything post canon (except that epilogue).

im just simply uninterested in canon rewrites (Disappearances of Draco Malfoy being the stellar exception). i already read everything that happened in canon, im good. it's how people move on and recover from trauma that interests me much more. and getting to explore and add depth to characters outside of harry's rather narrow POV. the aftermath of these characters' suffering as children is, to me, such a rich narrative playground for a writer. who could they become as adults? how do all their insane, horrific experiences shape who they grow into? those are the stories i want to read and write.

#fanfic thoughts #epilogue what epilogue #hp fanfic

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lunar-serpentinite · 4 months

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currently entertaining an idea where harry does a heroics one last time and helps people, even the slytherins and kids of death eaters who were caught up in the war and are now total outcasts of society, to adjust to a post-war society

(setting up charities and funds and paying for shit using the seemingly bottomless wealth he has inherited, testifying for the kids and ppl who were doomed to be forever scapegoated even though they were barely the worst people during the war, putting the ministry and wizengamot in a headlock so theyd quickly pass the laws that would better protect anyone who isnt a pureblood, white, male, or human)

before quietly packing up his bags and fucking off to a quiet lil remote and forgotten potter property where he wrangles with his traumas and regrets alone for a good 2 years (without much progress) until people start knocking at his door and he thinks theyre here to ask shit of him again but they just want to help him

but harry cant fathom accepting help because obviously hes gotten so good at fixing his own problems and no one else has to get entangled in his shit while theyre still recovering

i like to think that luna would be one of the first ones to successfully get harry to welcome her in his wards and have a nice cuppa with him bc lets be real luna is harry's little sister in all but blood and he feels his most peaceful and understood and seen around her. hermione and ron wld be the next ones ofc

and the slytherins he helped are a prideful bunch but goddamn they owe him two life debts at least and theyre definitely just there to get those debts paid and not because it just feels weird to leave this boy (who gave up his life for literally all of them and even spoke up for them even if they never asked him to) to wallow in his mystery when they cld do something about it

idk i just want to think about harry potter learning that hes absolutely worth saving and hes not just a weapon to be stored in the darkest cupboards after hes done being useful and that people love him for being himself and not jsut as the boy who lived, you know ?

#harry potter #harry james potter #harry who has grown badly into hyper independence after years of people switching up on him at the drop of a hat #and losing almost everyone who has ever dared to love him #epilogue what epilogue

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hzry · 10 months

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Harry Potter’s Biggest Fan: 9.7k

Ever since Scorpius heard about Harry Potter for the first time from one of his friends, one could say that he was his biggest fan.

So naturally, it would be the thing he needs to talk about while visiting his grandparents for Sunday dinner.

Draco's father could not hold back the comments on why he had to go through this again, and Scorpius understood just enough to know that his father actually knew Harry Potter in person. That's when the pestering started.

Not much later and Draco found himself face to face with Potter, all thanks to his son.

#10k or less #drarry #not in a relationship #reuinted #dad! draco #quidditchplayer!harry #scorpius malfoy #past astoria/draco #divorced! Draco #getting together #epilogue what epilogue #fluff #first kiss #tender #gnarf

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thelilreddragon · 16 days

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Aaand Kids in an Adult War is updated!

#harry potter au #harry x hermione #harry potter #harmony #epilogue what epilogue #ao3

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undercover-ballerina · 28 days

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Hermione Granger and the Dramione Shippers

Coming soon!!

Mr Stewart spoke “Lyn, did you sign June up for some fancy school?”

“No, I did not.” She paused and took in the sight of Hermione and Draco, standing in the middle of her living room, wearing clothes that would have been perfect in a museum exhibition.

Hermione was seriously reconsidering her choice of clothing,. “Hello Ms Stewart, June. I’m Professor Hermione Granger, this is Professor Draco Malfoy and we teach at…” June cut in excitedly “Hogwarts! You teach at Hogwarts! But, wait, aren’t you supposed to work at the Ministry of Magic and become the youngest Minister ever? It said so in the epilogue! And why is HE with you? Didn’t he bully you? You’re friends now? How is Harry doing, by the way?” The girl looked expectantly at Hermione, who was totally speechless. Ms Stewart tried to talk to her daughter. “June dear, Hogwarts doesn’t exist, these people are actors, they are probably here to advertise something. I’m sorry, but we’re not interested in buying anything.” Ms Stewart was ushering them towards the door when Hermione pulled herself together.

“I’m sorry, you took me by surprise there, but I really need to talk to you. Your daughter has, indeed, been selected for Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Which you should know nothing about, by the way. May I ask where you got all this information?” June took Hermione’s hand and led her to the sofa, leaving her mother and Draco behind. Mr Stewart was still staring from the kitchen door. Eventually the other adults recovered enough to go sit in the living room.

#dramione #ao3 #hermione granger #hp fanfic #epilogue what epilogue #fanfiction #archive of our own #draco x hermione #hermione fanfiction #hermione #draco lucius malfoy

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cantholdthisgarbage · 5 months

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New fic is up! Check it out on AO3!

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Chapters: 1/6 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Hermione Granger/Fred Weasley Characters: Fred Weasley, Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, George Weasley, Ron Weasley, Ginny Weasley Additional Tags: Background Relationships, 5+1 Things, 5 Times, Sweet, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Rare Pairings, Not Epilogue Compliant, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Everybody Lives, Fluff, Kissing, Hogwarts Summary:

What it says on the tin. Five times Fred Weasley has kissed Hermione Granger over the years. Plus one time Hermione Granger decides to kiss him first. Fred never expected his life to take this turn, yet here he is.

#fremione #fred x hermione #harry potter #FWHG #HGFW #epilogue what epilogue #ao3 #ao3 fanfic

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lumitycanon · 1 year

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youtube

#musings;#luz noceda #the multiverse #canon #canon divergent #pilot #betas #leave it all/to shine #🦦otter with a darkside #epilogue what epilogue

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jomiddlemarch · 3 months

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While You Were Sleeping

Chapter 4

Some people, primarily Muggles, count sheep when they have trouble falling asleep.

Wizards preferred Puffskeins or occasionally crups. Molly Weasley had once admitted she counted crups in Weasley sweaters, after George had spiked her tea with something she made him pull from the store shelves.

(Hermione did not believe anyone who said they counted dragons other than Hagrid, who listed them off by their forenames.)

Hermione preferred facts.

Fact: the Eguzkiko continued to think she and Draco were a married couple.

Fact: Draco was fluent in at least five languages.

Fact: Draco wore a subtle cologne that smelled like Hermione imagined the Silk Road would, minus the camels.

(Unconfirmed fact: this was exactly what Amortentia now smelled like to Hermione, forget cut grass and parchment.)

Fact: Hermione’s facts were usually about statistics, geopolitical historical alliances, and characters in Dickens’ novels because her father had loved those dearly but since the start of this mission, her facts had increasingly, exclusively become All About Draco.

Fact: Hermione appeared to have Feelings for sodding brilliant, widely accomplished and knicker-incineratingly fit Draco Black Malfoy, Esq., Feelings she felt ill-equipped to express.

Fact: She felt no more drowsy now than when she’d extinguished the reading lamp and turned on her side to avoid trying to make out his profile or the exquisite line of his neck against the pillowcase.

Fac—THUMP.

“What was that?” she exclaimed.

“I don’t—” Draco began.

THUMP. Thump. thump.

“What the bloody fuck?!” Draco said, sitting bolt upright. There was a yelping quality to his cry, that couldn’t be denied, though his voice was still pitched low enough that no one would have called it a shriek. Also, being bolt upright showed his broad shoulders to notable advantage (who knew pyjamas could be so impeccably tailored?)

In any case, Hermione had that covered, the shriek-department that is. She did manage to keep it to one solitary shriek that she choked back at the end, right at the moment when Draco reached over and grabbed her upper arms. She only had a split second to evaluate the grabbing, but it was definitely from the making-sure-you’re-real and I’ve-got-you-don’t-worry categories, not the get-a-hold-of-yourself-witch or I’m-about-to-shake-you-silly-for-being-a-silly-bint. Also, his hands were big and warm and transiently made her feel very much cherished and she was glad she’d tied back her hair so he didn’t accidentally pull any of it, though the prospect of his hands gently running through her curls was dreadfully appealing.

When she wasn’t devoting her not inconsiderable brain-power towards the mental recitation of facts, she was capable of noticing quite a bit.

“Are you all right?” he asked. With the grabbing, he’d closed the distance between them and they were close enough she could see the hints of green and blue in his grey eyes, the faint shadow of his beard, a darker shade than his hair. There was a small scar near his left temple and she wondered at what curse had caught him there, how badly he’d been injured to leave such a mark impervious to the Healers at St. Mungo’s. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine, are you?” she said. Her heart was still beating very fast, but it had more to do with Draco than the earlier noise.

“Yes,” he said. He loosened his grasp on her and let his hands drop, but they still rested on her forearms, lightly enough she could shrug him off. She did not.

“What was that?” she said when the moment had started to grow too intense, the hollow at the base of his throat too tempting.

“I don’t know,” he said. “At home, I’d guess it might be an old house settling for the night or a storm brewing, but here—”

“Could it be something magic?” she said. She swallowed, then said what she’d first thought, when all she had felt was terror, when she’d wanted to call out his name. “Don’t laugh at me—”

“I won’t,” he said.

“A monster. Under the bed. I know it sounds foolish,” she said.

Hermione was absolutely certain that every single one of her acquaintances, with the sole exception of Luna Lovegood, would agree it sounded foolish. And even Luna was likely to give her reassuring smile and tell her that kidakomori were far fonder of people than people ever gave them credit for and Hermione would have to pretend that she was aware of kidakomori and their undeservedly dubious reputation.

“It doesn’t sound foolish. Not to me,” Draco said.

“What?”

“I didn’t want to say it first, because I agree it makes me sound unhinged, but I also thought of a monster under the bed,” he replied.

“You were supposed to talk sense to me. To tell me I was overreacting,” Hermione said.

“Are you even capable of overreacting?” Draco countered. “I realize I am tacitly validating your prior assault on me—”

“We were children! And you were beastly,” Hermione said.

“And I deserved it,” he said.

“Well, no one deserves to be hit,” Hermione said.

“I understand the progressive Muggle approach to childhood discipline and in general, I don’t disagree but in that particular situation, I must say I did. And not only because I was making a point.” He smiled at her and she liked it far too much.

“Do you really think there’s a monster under our bed?” she said, trying not to whisper and failing.

“You said our bed,” Draco replied.

“That’s what you’re choosing to focus on? Not the monster part? And the fact that we have no wands and even wandless magic is verboten in here, even assuming either of us knew what spell to cast for a monster under the bed,” she ranted. Her exposure to Parseltongue had been so negative (whose wasn’t?) she kept herself from hissing, but it was a close call. Draco moved his right hand from her forearm to her wrist and then laced his fingers through hers. It would have been the sexiest move she could remember any man making except for the possible monster beneath them.

“Inanis belua, but you have to put the emphasis on the bel and let the final a drift. Like leviosa,” Draco said.

“Inanis belua,” she repeated.

“Perfect,” he said. “You’ve always had an ear for incantation.”

“How did you learn it?” Hermione asked. It seemed he wasn’t going to make her face the implications of our bed. At least not at the moment.

“Narcissa,” Draco said, again referring to his mother by her first name. Hermione almost wished for another round of eerie thumps to distract them both from the ticking bomb that was his relationship with his mother. “She coddled me, as much as she could—the Malfoy heir was expected to be superior in all regards, but the Blacks tend to be high-strung, overly sensitive. It was a secret, that she taught me the spell. I wasn’t to tell my father.”

“I don’t think it’s coddling to make your little boy feel safe,” Hermione said, hoping she’d picked the least inflammatory aspect of what he’d shared. The less she said about Lucius Malfoy the better. Even after all these years, she wasn’t sure she could talk about him without venom and however Draco felt, the man was still his father, albeit immured in Azkaban .

“Perhaps,” Draco said.

“I suppose you think it’s horribly middle-class of me. Or Muggle,” she said.

“I think you were raised by kinder people than I was,” he said. Hermione thought of the estrangement that existed between her and her parents and also how it had been as the Grangers’ little girl, the plush calico kitten that had been tucked with her under her covers, the bedtime stories, the trips to the library with a trolley to bring home her latest acquisitions. When she thought of them, they were still Mum and Dad.

“It was Bellatrix who taught her the spell,” Draco said, watching her face. His own eyebrows were drawn together, a serious expression similar to one he wore when wrangling with a particularly thorny bit of medieval Eguzkikan legislation.

“I take it you’re of the confront your fear persuasion,” Hermione said. “Or is this some kind of weirdly roundabout apology Or a Pureblood thing? If it’s a Pureblood thing, you’ll have to give me some context, like whether it’s all the Sacred Twenty-Eight or just the Blacks. It doesn’t feel authentically Malfoy.”

“I’m not sure what it is,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck with his left hand, still hanging onto her right with his own. “I thought, we’re talking about monsters, from our past, we’ve never spoken about what happened with Bellatrix. We’re sleeping together every night, it seemed odd not to address it but perhaps that was better—"

“It wasn’t better. But this isn’t necessary,” she said.

“I think it is,” Draco replied. “Necessary, but not better. She’s so hard to talk about and no one wants to, beyond cursing her, and I understand, but to not talk about her, it’s as stupid to me as blasting Andromeda off the tapestry. And I’ve never told you how terribly sorry I am that I couldn’t figure out some other way to help you, when she was hurting you. I don’t know what I could have done but that’s not enough, Hermione. It never was and now—”

Draco broke off and Hermione found herself raising her left hand to cup his cheek, stroking her thumb across his cheekbone. It went on far to long for him to mistake is for only gentleness.

“D’you know, I think we’ve had enough of monsters,” she said. “Only I wonder—”

“What?” he said.

“There’s been no more noise. Might we have done wandless magic with that spell of yours, banished the bedframe’s resident horror to parts unknown? And if we did, will the Eguzkiko be deeply offended and break off diplomatic relations?” Hermione asked.

“I won’t tell,” Draco said. “Wandless is near-impossible to trace and tandem wandless hasn’t been recorded. Or regulated in any magical region. I think we’re safe.”

Fact: Draco’s eyes weren’t only grey.

Fact: Draco had been a little boy afraid of monsters.

Fact: Hermione wanted to fall asleep holding Draco Black Malfoy’s hand. And he let her.

#dramione #there was only one bed #fake marriage #rom-com #but with angst #hermione POV #hermione granger #draco malfoy #hermione x draco #post-hogwarts #epilogue what epilogue #sleepy time tropes #diplomat!hermione #lawyer!draco #getting into family stuff #the author repudiates JK Rowling

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heichouux · 19 days

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The Dragon and the Hare, Draco and Luna with their Patronuses.

More Draco/Luna fanart because I’m just obsessed. I'm thinking of naming the fic: The Dragon and the Hare

I don't have a blurb for it yet, so in the meantime, eat up these prompts from the fic:

soft top Luna and a slightly possessive (just enough not to be toxic) Draco <3

Seventh and Sixth Year students who fought in the Battle of Hogwarts were exempt from returning to Hogwarts and graduated automatically. However, if they wanted to return to complete/redo their final year, they could.

Draco, Luna, Hermione, Ginny, Dean and Neville all returned to complete their final year.

Draco's the only Slytherin from his year who returned

Luna Lovegood has changed and she will bite back.

Draco Malfoy redemption arc, (our boy is tired but that doesn't mean he needs to stop being sarcastic)

Hermione is a single pringle girl boss with nightmares (slight Ron bashing?)

Neville is just tryna get by

Dean is not ashamed of the hardcore smut letters Seamus sends him

Ginny is a BAMF

Found family

Forgiveness takes time, but he's willing to wait if it means he wouldn't have to be alone anymore (Draco and his abandonment issues)

The gang sit in their little corner of the party, chatting amongst themselves instead of socialising because why not

People are mean to Draco, but Luna defends him

Draco and self-hatred are best mates

'I'll break your wrists if you touch her'

'She's too good for you, Draco'

'You should be careful around him, Luna'

Mutual pining !!!

Unresolved (resolved) sexual tension

Walk him like a dog sis, walk him like a dog

Draco Malfoy discovers he really likes to cuddle

They just want a year of peace ffs, but of course, they don’t get it (PTSD, anxiety, trauma, nightmares, hurt/comfort, a crap ton of crying)

That one scene from First Daughter (2004) where she’s drunk and stripping at a bar and he gets jealous and carries her away

#harry potter #draco malfoy #luna lovegood #draco x luna #druna #fanart #harry potter fanart #fanfic #pencil #draco malfoy fanart #draco malfoy fanfiction #luna lovegood fanart #hp fanart #patronus #epilogue what epilogue

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