#━━ ❛❛ // HERMIONE GRANGER ¦ * 「 visage ! 」

[faeryworlds]

Happy Birthday, Hermione Jean Granger.

[shcrbcrtxlcmon]

hermione granger tag drop

—・✦・— || hermione granger || the cleverest witch of her year || visage

[prioriiincantatem]

PROOF THAT ASTORIA AND HERMIONE ARE FRIENDS EVENTUALLY.

#7yearsago

[isdeathlystill]

TAG DROP: HERMIONE GRANGER

[sicutpuella]

Desiderium [Tom Riddle x Original Character]

Chapter 0: Grim Old Place

Within the somber confines of 12 Grimmauld Place, an ancient dwelling tinged with an air of mystery, Harry Potter stood with his senses heightened, attuned to every whisper and rustle that permeated the shadowed halls. This place, steeped in the ancestral legacy of the noble House of Black, seemed to hold secrets within its very walls. It was in this hallowed abode, at the dawn of a new chapter in his extraordinary journey, that Harry heard a voice—a voice that beckoned to him from the depths of the unknown.

Harry Potter, the fabled wizard of renown, turned swiftly, his emerald eyes scanning the room in search of the enigmatic voice that had addressed him. To his astonishment, he found himself beholding a woman, whose ethereal beauty captivated his senses. Claudia Rosier, a bewitching figure, stood before him.

"Harry Potter, finally in the flesh!" she uttered, her voice resonating with a blend of anticipation and delight. The words, a mere handful, hung in the air, carrying with them a weight that stirred within Harry an inexplicable mix of curiosity and fascination. Her tresses, a resplendent cascade of dark crimson, differed from the ginger hues known to the Weasley clan. It was as if her hair possessed a bewitching charm, casting its spell upon all who dared to gaze upon its allure. Yet it was her eyes that held Harry transfixed—a striking shade of electric blue, vibrant orbs that seemed to penetrate the depths of his very soul.

Though the passage of years had marked her countenance, Claudia's allure remained undiminished. Her visage bore the traces of a life well-lived, etched with lines that added a touch of elegance to her graceful face. Towering above most in the room, she possessed an imposing stature, her regal presence exceeding the height of Harry himself. It was evident that she hailed from a privileged upbringing, a scion of the uppermost echelons of society.

As she uttered his name, her voice carried a gentleness that caressed his ears. Yet her refined accent hinted at a pedigree steeped in refinement and opulence. Every aspect of Claudia's being exuded an air of meticulous grooming, while a captivating fragrance enveloped her, enchanting those within its proximity. Her posture, straight and commanding, radiated both power and wisdom, as if she had long mastered the arts of authority.

In this extraordinary encounter, Claudia Rosier embodied a mesmerizing presence, a tapestry woven from the threads of ageless beauty and refined sophistication. Harry found himself spellbound by her very essence, the allure of a woman whose charms transcended time itself. Claudia Rosier's presence did not go unnoticed by Harry's faithful companions, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger. As if summoned by an invisible force, they gravitated towards the enchanting figure that held their friend spellbound.

Ron, with his hair as fiery as the sun's golden rays, and Hermione, her countenance bright with intellect and determination, approached Claudia with a mix of curiosity and reverence. The twins, Fred and George, ever mischievous and quick-witted, joined the gathering, their eyes widening as they beheld the radiant beauty before them. Claudia's captivating aura transcended the boundaries of age, captivating all who gazed upon her with a mystifying allure. Her dark crimson locks cascaded like a silken tapestry, captivating even the mischievous twins, whose gazes momentarily faltered under her bewitching spell. Her eyes, an iridescent blue, seemed to hold within their depths a wellspring of wisdom and secrets, whispering untold stories to those who dared to look deeply enough.

Ron, his freckled countenance flushed with a mixture of awe and admiration, struggled to find the words to capture the essence of this ethereal presence. Hermione, her eyes sparkling with an inquisitive light, observed Claudia with an astute curiosity, her mind working tirelessly to unravel the enigma that stood before them. As the companions stood in the presence of Claudia Rosier, her allure resonated with an undeniable magnetism, evoking a symphony of emotions and intrigue. The air crackled with an undercurrent of anticipation, as if destiny itself had woven its tapestry around this meeting, entangling their lives in a web of unforeseen possibilities.

In this sacred gathering, amidst the aged tapestries and ancestral secrets, Claudia Rosier cast her spell upon the hearts and minds of those who beheld her, leaving an indelible mark upon their souls. The threads of fate intertwined, as the companions embarked upon a journey that would forever be intertwined with the enigmatic presence of Claudia, a woman whose beauty transcended the realms of mortal comprehension.

Sirius Black, with his boisterous laughter, shattered the silence that had settled upon the room, drawing the attention of the spellbound teenagers. His voice boomed with mirth as he spoke, bringing forth the revelation of the esteemed presence that had graced them all.

"Ah, I've seen you've met our special guest!" Sirius exclaimed, his jovial tone resonating through the ancient halls of 12 Grimmauld Place. "The honorable Claudia Rosier! The head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and the Head of Magical Artifacts!"

At the utterance of the name Rosier, a collective recognition flickered in Harry's mind. It was a name that bore significance, for it was etched in the annals of infamy, belonging to those who had sworn allegiance to the Dark Lord. The Rosiers, notorious for their unwavering devotion to blood purity, were revered amongst the ranks of the Death Eaters. Yet, there was a complexity to their lineage—an undeniable wealth and influence that flowed through their veins. The noble Rosiers, as they were known, had established themselves as pillars of the wizarding elite.

With a graceful inclination of her head, Claudia Rosier acknowledged the young ones before her. A subtle air of dignity surrounded her, as if the weight of her position and the legacy of her name lent her an aura of quiet authority. With measured steps, she made her way toward the beckoning dining room of Grimmauld Place, joined by the other venerable members of the household.

In the wake of her departure from the hall, a mingling of emotions stirred within the hearts of the young wizards and witches left behind. A tapestry of intrigue and curiosity unfolded, woven with threads of apprehension. The presence of Claudia Rosier, a living embodiment of the complexities that entwined pureblood heritage and dark alliances, cast an enigmatic shadow upon the path that lay ahead. As they prepared to partake in the familial feast, the air thickened with unspoken questions, and the companions found themselves drawn further into the intricate web of secrets and destinies that bound them together within the hallowed chambers of Grimmauld Place.

In hushed tones, Ron Weasley leaned toward Harry Potter, his voice barely above a whisper, as if fearful of disturbing the delicate balance of the room. "A Rosier, Harry? Is she not of the same kind as... you-know-who's followers? One of those staunch believers in blood purity?" Hermione Granger, ever the fountain of knowledge, displayed a similar reaction, her expression etched with a mixture of concern and curiosity.

The trio, accompanied by the mischievous Fred and George Weasley, advanced into the opulent dining hall of Grimmauld Place, where Claudia Rosier occupied the seat of honor. There she sat, an embodiment of elegance and poise, her back held erect with a refined grace. The atmosphere seemed to shift, charged with an air of anticipation, as if the very room itself acknowledged her presence and yielded to her authority.

Their footsteps faltered for a fleeting moment, halted by the weight of their contemplation. The mere mention of the Rosier name sent ripples of unease through their collective consciousness, for it was synonymous with allegiance to the dark forces that had threatened their world. The Rosiers, a family entangled in the web of you-know-who's gang, had long espoused the ideals of blood purity, their beliefs steeped in tradition and exclusivity.

And yet, even in the face of their reservations, the trio pressed on, curiosity mingling with caution as they approached the table where Claudia held court. The resolute determination that guided their steps belied the doubts that churned within. Inwardly, they prepared themselves to navigate the intricacies of this encounter, to glean what truths lay concealed behind the veneer of elegance and power.

As they drew nearer, the allure of Claudia Rosier's presence intensified. Her poised countenance, an embodiment of regality, invited admiration and respect. Every line and curve of her figure spoke of confidence and authority, a testament to the depths of her experience and knowledge. The trio, accompanied by the ever-watchful twins, took their places at the table, the gravity of the moment hanging heavy in the air.

Amidst the resplendent atmosphere of the dining hall, an air of reunion pervaded the space, embracing all who gathered within its opulent confines. Nymphadora Tonks, the ever-capricious metamorphagus, regaled the younger attendees with her remarkable talents, effortlessly transforming her countenance into a succession of creatures—a duck, a pig, a lion—eliciting peals of laughter and delight. Even Claudia Rosier, a paragon of grace and refinement, found herself captivated by the whimsical display. Meanwhile, a distinguished assembly had formed on the side of the table, where Claudia sat alongside Sirius Black, Harry Potter, Alastor Moody, Remus Lupin, and Kingsley Shacklebolt. Engrossed in earnest discussion, their attention focused upon the pressing concerns plaguing the Ministry of Magic—specifically, the obstinate denial of Lord Voldemort's resurgence by the deluded Cornelius Fudge.

"What purpose does it serve to sugarcoat the truth?" Moody interjected brusquely, his words reverberating through the hall and punctuating the conversation. The room fell into an uneasy silence, as the weight of his statement hung heavy in the air, casting a somber pall over the gathering.

"Alastor," Claudia chided gently, her voice a soothing balm that sought to quell the mounting tension. But Moody, unyielding in his resolve, persisted. "Show him! The boy will discover the truth soon enough, one way or another."

As if in response to their exchange, a gentle hand extended toward Harry, bearing a newspaper with the front page emblazoned by a striking headline: "The Boy Who Lies." The words cast a shadow over the young wizard's countenance, stirring a mix of emotions within him—an amalgamation of defiance, frustration, and an unwavering determination to confront the harsh realities that lay ahead.

Amidst the distinguished company gathered within the walls of Grimmauld Place, the weighty matters of the day weighed heavily upon their minds. Cornelius Fudge, a figure of authority wielding power and influence over the Daily Prophet, had employed his position to suppress any claims of Lord Voldemort's menacing return. Sirius Black, his voice resolute, interjected with an air of defiance, breaking the silence that enveloped the room.

"Why?" Harry Potter, his disbelief palpable, queried in a tone laced with incredulity, his faith in the integrity of those in positions of power momentarily shaken.

Remus Lupin, a sage presence amid the assembly, endeavored to shed light upon the perplexing matter. "The Ministry suspects that Dumbledore seeks to usurp Fudge's position," he explained, his words tinged with a hint of weariness. "They harbor a deep-seated fear that compels them to perceive threats where none exist."

"But that’s insane! No one in their right mind could ever—" Harry retorted, his disbelief tinged with a note of righteous indignation. The flagrant incompetence of Fudge and the Ministry's willful ignorance stretched the bounds of reason, testing the limits of their patience and resolve.

"Indeed," Claudia interjected, her voice carrying a measured tone that bespoke wisdom earned through the passage of time. "Fear possesses the power to distort minds and drive individuals to commit unspeakable acts. Fudge's faculties have been compromised, clouded by the very dread that should impel him to action."

With a somber gaze fixed upon Harry, Claudia continued her discourse. "The last time Lord Voldemort seized power, our world trembled on the precipice of destruction. We cannot afford to dismiss that grim reality, nor can the Ministry, in their misguided attempts to pacify the masses, ignore the imminent threat that looms before us."

Sirius, unwavering in his resolve, added his voice to the somber discussion. "We believe that Voldemort seeks to rebuild his formidable army, just as he did fourteen years ago. His followers included not only dark wizards and witches, but creatures of all kinds." Remus, ever the embodiment of insight, continued, "He has been aggressively recruiting, and we too seek to gather our forces. Yet, in the face of the Ministry's hateful and ignorant gaze, our efforts have been hindered at every turn."

"And yet, there is more," Remus stated with a measured tone. "We suspect that Voldemort's motives extend beyond the mere construction of an army. We believe he harbors unfinished business, a desire to complete what he failed to achieve in his previous bid for power." As the words lingered in the air, the gaze of Alastor Moody, Claudia, and Sirius converged upon Harry, a shared understanding etched upon their faces. The gravity of the situation had deepened, casting a shadow upon their hopes and filling their hearts with a sense of foreboding.

As the weighty revelations continued to pour forth, a voice pierced the air, cutting through the rising tide of information. Molly Weasley, her tone filled with maternal concern and protective instincts, interjected with a fervor born of love and apprehension. "No, that is enough! He is but a boy, barely of age! If we delve any deeper into this dangerous path, we might as well extend him an invitation into the Order!"

Harry, emboldened by his newfound resolve and a fire that burned within him, seized the moment to make his proclamation. "If Voldemort seeks to gather an army, then I’ll come with you!”

Claudia, her vibrant spirit undimmed by the gravity of the situation, found amusement in the audacity and courage displayed by Harry. A smile tugged at the corners of her lips, mirroring the playful spark dancing in Sirius's eyes. They recognized in Harry the same indomitable spirit that had guided them in their own battles against the encroaching darkness.

With Molly's intervention, the evening slowly began to regain its semblance of a joyous reunion. Conversations flowed freely, laughter mingled with whispers, and the atmosphere regained its familiar air of camaraderie. Each segment of the table formed pockets of dialogue, their words and laughter intertwining, as friends and allies found solace in the presence of kindred spirits. Yet, amid the din of jovial chatter, Harry's mind remained fixated on the enigmatic figure of Claudia Rosier. Her presence, though known to him by virtue of her position within the Ministry, seemed peculiarly timed. Questions formed in the depths of his inquisitive mind, a desire to unravel the mysteries surrounding her newfound association with the Order of the Phoenix.

As the evening progressed, Harry's curiosity simmered beneath the surface, a flame that threatened to consume his thoughts. The allure of Claudia's presence beckoned him, urging him to seek answers and uncover the truth that lay hidden within her crimson hair and electric blue eyes. In this union of destiny and circumstance, Harry resolved to delve deeper into the enigma that was Claudia Rosier, for he sensed that her presence held significance far beyond what met the eye.

As the night began its descent towards the late hours, Claudia Rosier, ever conscious of her responsibilities, gracefully excused herself from the gathering. With a gentle smile upon her lips, she delicately maneuvered through the clusters of conversation, offering her farewells to each individual in turn. Her departure elicited a collective murmur of appreciation and respect, for her presence had brought an air of wisdom and elegance to their midst.

Pausing momentarily before the trio, Claudia's eyes gleamed with a genuine interest as she addressed them. "You find yourselves embarking upon your fifth year, do you not?" Her tone carried a warmth that embraced both familiarity and curiosity. Hermione, ever respectful and poised, replied with a deferential nod, her voice laced with a measure of reverence towards the seasoned witch.

"Ah, the fifth year—a truly magical time," Claudia exclaimed, her laughter bubbling forth like a melodic symphony that echoed through the grand hall. Her words carried a hint of nostalgia, evoking memories of her own youthful adventures and trials within the hallowed halls of Hogwarts.

The brief interlude drew to a close, as Claudia's obligations beckoned her away. With a final gaze that held a promise of future encounters, she addressed Harry directly. "Tomorrow, Harry, we shall meet again at the Ministry. Until then, I bid you all adieu!"

Masterlist : Next Chapter

[dhr-ao3]

Les Enfants de la Prophétie

Les Enfants de la Prophétie https://ift.tt/TyH3R7B by lowissang Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, et Théodore Nott, triplés séparés à la naissance par Dumbledore pour les protéger, grandissent sans connaître leurs liens familiaux. Chacun d'eux ressent un vide inexplicable : Harry rêve d’une famille plus aimante, Hermione ressent un manque profond malgré une vie heureuse avec ses parents moldus, et Théodore, isolé dans une famille sombre, est hanté par des visages familiers. La vérité éclate lorsque, au Département des Mystères, Harry découvre une prophétie mentionnant deux autres âmes liées à la sienne. Avec la guerre contre Voldemort menaçant, les trois frères et sœurs devront se retrouver et affronter ensemble leur destinée, révélant les secrets de leur séparation et le lien puissant qui les unit. Words: 2057, Chapters: 2/17, Language: Français Fandoms: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: F/M, M/M Characters: Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, Theodore Nott, Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Luna Lovegood, Albus Dumbledore Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter/Blaise Zabini, Luna Lovegood/Theodore Nott via AO3 works tagged 'Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy' https://ift.tt/lbNtwOi October 28, 2024 at 06:53PM

[justpopi]

Only the Night

Once the news of the aftermath of the battle that took place in the Department of Mysteries reached Hogwarts, it took no longer than half an hour for Draco Malfoy to lock himself up in his dorm and cry.

Wards up, he allowed himself to finally let go of the tears and sobs that were burning his eyes and chest from the inside, and let the fast-building sorrow and desperation consume him.

If you were to ask any stranger for the cause behind his wrecked state, they would say it was the capture of one Lucius Malfoy, which, valid, as the mental image of his father in a cold Azkaban prison cell was not helping in the slightest.

If you asked the same question to one of his friends, they would answer that it was the gloom prospect of one Narcissa Malfoy, which again, also valid, as the tightening of his heart when he imagined his mother alone in their big manor was very real (and very painful).

But only the soft, silver rays of moonlight painting the insides of the infirmary in the late hours of the night would tell you, if they could, that the main reason was the agonizing visage of one Hermione Granger becoming forever a gut-wrenching reminder of how close he was to lose her.

And if the night saw one Draco Malfoy tenderly holding a sleeping Golden Girl’s hand, whispering his most coveted thoughts of a brighter world, one in which he gets to love her out loud and be loved by her in return, then only the night would know.

[tomionefinds]

Hi! Do you know of any good tomione political fics? Such as Tom being more conservative and Hermione liberal leaning.

Hey Anon,

Here's a few they're not specifically political as far as the house/stances but maybe have hints a their moral standings. Then I I did a search and found a few more that based on a cursory glance they also have a political background/backdrop. -JD

A Marked Deck by betagyre This is a sequel to Choosing Grey E/Ma | Complete | 190k Minister for Magic Tom Riddle has a family and a position of immense political power, and he must adapt to the responsibility that comes with both. But Hermione has much to adjust to as well, married to someone who is still very much a power-hungry Dark wizard. Follows Choosing Grey. Politicians by LadyMiya E/Ma | Complete | 25k You would have thought that Hermione Granger, a major in Political Science, would know better than invite a stranger from a pub home. But then, she would never be a true politician if she did.

communication errors by esotyric (devilrie) T+ | Complete | 8k sender: tmriddle@walpurgis.net recipient: hermionegranger@gryffinsdor.org subject: Today’s Meeting

Granger – Attached is the dry-cleaning bill for the shirt you ruined when you threw your tea at it. I’m not sure if you noticed, but I happened to be wearing the shirt at the time. You are lucky it was cold. Pay the bill and I won’t sue you for assault.

Regards, Thomas Marvolo Riddle CEO of Walpurgis Corporate

sender: hermionegranger@gryffinsdor.org recipient: tmriddle@walpurgis.net subject: re: Today’s Meeting

Riddle – I did notice, because unlike you, I can identify when something is being inhabited, you forest-destroying monster.

You do not require a dry cleaner to get herbal tea out of a shirt. The shirt was black, the tea was camomile, and you have no grounds on which to stand nor sue. Your company, however, WILL be exposed for the havoc it is wreaking upon our natural world.

Sincerely, Hermione Jean Granger CEO of Not being a Twat

Scandal by Nekositting E/Ma | Complete | 12k His eyes were fixated on her, lips turned into a frown as if trying to will Hermione to answer truthfully to his question. What he didn’t know was that she planned to avoid the question altogether. To lie outright because telling him that Tom bloody Riddle was feeling her up beneath the table in the middle of a political dinner was unacceptable.

A most personal incentive by Baryshnikov M | One Shot | 5k If Tom wanted to achieve his political goals, then he'd have to persuade Hermione of them first.

dove by con_fection E/Ma | WIP | 8k Just weeks ago, political activist Hermione Granger had been one of the jurors to convict serial killer and alleged cult leader Tom Marvolo Riddle of a host of violent crimes, including multiple counts of murder and grievous bodily harm.

He had almost managed to convince the other jurors that he was innocent, enrapturing them with his alluring visage and a story about his less than pleasant upbringing.

But, in spite of all of his anglicism, perfect looks and charismatic disposition, Hermione Granger could see straight through him, to the monster that lay beneath. Eventually, she had convinced the other jurors to see it, too.

There is only one question left in her mind, the question that won't leave her alone, the question that keeps her awake at night: why?

Political Animals by Macabre Marionette M | WIP | 5k The Capitol Hill has always been the playground for the ambitious and powerful. The newly elected Senator Tom Riddle is raising hell over his head, and who was Hermione Granger to stop him? [Non-Magical AU]

The Power Vacuum Conundrum by Spork_in_the_Road M | Abandoned | 32k Note: not about the kind of vacuum that sucks up dirt in muggle homes.

Hermione Granger goes back in time, not to save the future Dark Lord's soul, and not kill him. Instead, she figures she'll offer him some competition for the role of World Leader. She knows that when Grindelwald falls, there will be room for a new player on the field. At least this way, Hermione knows she's the lesser of two evils.

[sailtomarina]

Exact Complements, Part 1

Part 1/4 for the DEG's Ostara Fest featuring four different prompts for each day of the celebration. Day 1 is Balance (Light/Dark, Warm/Cold, Night/Day, Sun/Moon, Fire/Water)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

cw: stalking, obsessed Antonin

He watched her through the window, the wooden slats disrupting the view into slices. Still, he’d never seen anyone more perfect, more worthy, more his. Hermione Granger. The girl he’d cursed was now a woman who’d not only survived, but had flourished. 

The day was still young with shadows clinging to the edges of the world in hopes for a little more time. Antonin could relate. He should have passed with the darkest era along with others like him, yet he held on. He survived. Just like her.

They were destined for one another; he just knew it. She was already marked as his, and she had been the only one to leave her mark on him. Nobody else would have dared, not after he’d killed his father. She’d reached into his mind and rearranged its contents as handily as sorting notes in a manuscript. Not even the Dark Lord had tried–there’d been nothing for him to find in Antonin’s mind worth notice; he’d made sure of it.

Knock knock.

The grin that spread across his face was not one many had seen save his soul brother, Thorfinn, and his dear Mama, rest her soul. It transformed a grim visage, erasing the years and showing him to be the mischievous wizard he could be. 

She’d found him.

Not that he’d expected any less of her. He’d left clues, here and there. First, a letter of intent. He wanted there to be no question in her mind about who sought her attention. He wondered what she’d done with it. Set it aflame? Delivered it as evidence to her Ministry dogs? Maybe she folded it neatly and placed it somewhere safe. The right-hand drawer of her rolltop desk, perhaps. 

Next, he’d left flowers of various types and meanings in the places she most frequented. She’d returned from the barista after making her order to find a sprig of honeysuckle, dew still clinging to the yellow blossoms, lying across her open book. A jog around the pond near her cottage and the bench she often used to rest gifted her a bundle of wild roses. Her nightly showers had her returning to bed, the flush of heat still on her breasts, only to find one yellow marguerite across her pillow.

No amount of warding could keep Antonin away. In fact, he viewed the escalating security a welcome challenge. Of course a formidable witch like she would demand only the best. He surmounted each and every one. He hoped she particularly liked the extra time he took to weave her wards back into place with only his blatant magical signature and the flower of the day to mark his passing.

They were exact complements of one another, he and she. Antonin knew she wanted him just as much as he did her; if she didn’t, why else would she continue living and moving around alone? She was as good as inviting his pursuit.

Now she’d turned the tables on him, locating his place of residence without any forewarning or visible precautions taken. She’d walked right up to his doorstep. 

It was his turn to test her.

Opening the door brought none of the wandplay he’d been ready to counter. She simply stood there, the rising sun streaming from behind her and painting a picture of holiness to which he nearly fell to his knees in worship. He only just managed to lock his knees and focus on her eyes, two heads lower than his own.

“Hello.” He didn’t phrase it as a question, nor ask why she was here. He wanted Hermione to know that she had been expected.

Up close like this, he could spot every freckle and count each lash. Her golden-brown eyes widened at his greeting. Good. She was surprised. 

“Antonin Dolohov?” His name came out in a whisper, followed shortly by a step back. She looked him up and down, disbelief apparent on her face and tension lining every muscle of her small frame.

Ah. So she hadn’t known it would be him.

He might have been disappointed had she turned and fled. He’d thought her aware of his identity when he’d first seen her. That she’d arrived under different pretences stung, just a little. But, she wasn’t fleeing, and she wasn’t attacking even though her hand wavered near her pocket.

“That is my name, yes.”

She snorted at the unaffected tone of acknowledgement. “I might have asked why you chose to live right next door, but I’m afraid I already know the answer.”

“Are you afraid?” he asked, honestly curious. She didn’t look afraid. She had none of the white around her eyes that victims usually wore, nor did she appear to be struggling to breathe. She looked wary, yes, but then again, he had been admittedly heavy handed in his contact. 

She stared at him, chewing her lip like she was undecided on how to answer him. He nearly let his mask slip. He wanted to be the one biting that lip. He would be the one to do that and more soon. She just didn’t know it yet.

“I know I should be. The letter, all the flowers…they’re creepy.” Her stance didn’t change as she awaited his response.

Oddly enough, he wasn’t offended. In any other situation with some other person he would have agreed with her. Only, they weren’t in those situations or different people. Every action he’d taken towards her felt right.

“If you’re not afraid, then what are you?”

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“I like to gather as much knowledge as possible. I’m sure you can relate.” That one earned him a gleam in her eye and a faint upward twitch of her lips. 

“If I said I was intrigued, what would you do?”

He took a large step forward.

She stiffened, but remained in place.

He walked up to her, stopping only an arm’s length away, each step he took unhurried. He wasn’t worried that she’d run. He was confident he could counter any attack on her part, even without his wand in hand. 

“I would invite you inside and show you exactly why you’re correct to be intrigued, sladkaya.” 

He wondered if she was even aware of the way she licked her lips at his imaginings. Her eyes flickered across his face, then down his body, pausing and widening at the prominent display of his arousal. She jerked her eyes back up, rose tinting her cheeks.

His innocent little lion. She was just begging to be released from the cage built by her fame and golden reputation. She would probably give him the key if he asked nicely, but he was more inclined to batter the bars down and leave them bent and bruised, never to be used again.

He held one hand out, palm up, and raised a brow.

She took it.

1143 WC

Cross-posted on Tumblr, FB, & AO3

Flower meanings: honeysuckle/devotion, wild roses/pleasure and pain, yellow marguerite/I come soon

"Sladkaya" is a Russian term of endearment meaning "sweet"

I usually write a reformed Antonin with far more sweetness underneath that terrifying exterior, but decided to lean more into the side of him that built that reputation. He is supposed to be creepy. You should be slightly horrified. But, he's also kinda hot.

[rainreignrayn]

Obliviate (Chapter 10: Just A Minute)

Hermione had spent the last month begging McGonagall to let her go home—right after Colin Creevey began screaming in the Great Hall as parcels dropped around him. His post consisted of several letters from his uncle, one apology from a ministry worker, and a freshly-printed copy of The Daily Prophet, with the faces of his parents flashing on the front page. 

After her evening with Malfoy, she felt peace. And then she realized she was not allowed to feel peace. There was work to be done, and she was falling into complacency.

So her harassment of McGonagall began once more. She actively avoided any possibility of crossing paths with Malfoy, and redirected her attention to her professor. Hermione sent up scrolls and scrolls of parchment to her classroom, outlining plans down to the very second: when to lower the apparition wards without detection, how long it would take her to walk downstairs, how long it would take her to line her wand to her parents’ heads, when she would call the spell, how she would rearrange their mind, and how many seconds it would take her to apparate back inside the castle. 

All while pulling the magic of Hogwarts’ wards around her to avoid Ministry detection. 

Hermione received a summons to McGonagall’s office not three hours ago. One hour was dedicated to a lengthy lecture on studying, practicing (and flawlessly executing, in her opinion) unapproved magic—such as charming her proposal scrolls to only reveal itself to Minerva McGonagall alone. 

The second hour was spent walking through Hermione’s plan. The entire occasion would last three minutes total, but to Hermione the idea of it felt weeks long. This, then this, then this. 

They danced around any possible discussion of the Order or the war. Hermione might have thought it was, as her professor had put it, because the walls were listening. But as McGonagall’s face pinched more and more into a fixed visage in the passing weeks, Hermione realized it was because there was no solid plan reinforcing the spine of the war. No one knew what was happening, and it seemed that Hogwarts itself was splitting in two. 

More fights in the halls, more outbursts in the dining hall, high-strung teachers arguing in their mandated conferences.

Maybe the ambassadorship McGonagall proposed was more critical than Hermione realized. 

During the third hour, Hermione sat on the worn leather sofa lining the window of the office. 

McGonagall waited until she was ready.

Hermione said her goodbyes in her head. There was no time to say them in person. The wards could only go open for so long without alerting the groundskeepers—who would then alert the headmaster.

Hermione stood up and wiped her palms on the thighs of her pants. She gripped her wand tightly.

McGonagall mirrored her motions, pushing back her chair. She locked eyes with Hermione and raised her wand arm. 

“Professor, wait—” Hermione cleared her throat. “Is it—would it be alright if when I came back… that I not return here? To your office, I mean? It’s just that I don’t—um, I don’t believe I’ll be in the best condition to see you. Or anyone else, for that matter. But you’ll feel me enter again, and I’ll send a patronus immediately—”

Minerva McGonagall smiled sadly at her student of over half a decade—a woman forced to grow up. A woman who would never again be a laughing, wild-haired child in awe of moving staircases and sweeping ghouls.

“Yes, Miss Granger. You may.” And may Merlin be with you, she prayed in her mind. 

Her wand flicked, the wards dropped, and Hermione twisted into the ether with a broken crack .

***

Lilac colored walls embraced Hermione Granger in a haunting welcome. A mumbled accio brought a trunk flying out of her closet, filled with anything magical she had not taken to Hogwarts. She shrunk and transformed the clanking box into a smaller backpack, which she slung over her shoulders.

These seconds she spent preparing for her war were taken out of the time she could have said goodbye to her parents. But McGonagall didn’t know what she was doing. McGonagall thought she was talking to her mum right now. 

Hermione heard footsteps downstairs. “Darling, did you hear that?” Thomas Granger’s voice carried up the old wooden stairs.

Jean Granger inhaled sharply, and racing, climbing footsteps followed. Thomas’ louder, lumbering pattern joined.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

She pointed her wand at the door. 

“Hermione!” her parents shouted. 

“Obliviate,” she whispered.

The door burst open just as the white wisp of the spell flew towards them.

Thomas and Jean Granger were beaming with joy when their daughter wiped their minds clean.

***

It wasn’t supposed to be that quick. 

Hermione was counting. She still had a minute left, she was counting. She was counting. She could have said goodbye, she was counting. Why didn’t she say goodbye?

Oh, Merlin, a minute. A whole minute. She could have hugged them. Her mother could have touched her face, her father could have held her hand. A minute, a minute, a minute. 

An entire life, gone with a minute left to spare. 

A minute she spent standing in the same spot, listening to them move around downstairs. Packing. 

Completely, thoroughly unaware that there was a room upstairs with fading lilac paint, and a daughter that didn’t exist.

Hermione blinked rapidly to chase away her tears. There would be time for that later. 

Thirty seconds.

A nearly inconspicuous motion at the foot of her bed caught her eye. And then a ball of bright, orange fur was barreling towards her legs.

“Crooks!” Hermione whisper-shouted. She scooped him off her wooden floors and held her close to her chest. “Oh, my darling,” she hummed.

She left him here when she returned for the spring holiday. Because she knew… that this might happen.

Twenty seconds.

She pressed her lips to the space between her kneazle’s ears. “Keep an eye on them for me, will you?”

He yowled mournfully, clawing at her shoulders.

She set him down.

Ten seconds.

There was nothing left to say. No home to come back to. 

Three.

Two.

Crack.

Somewhere in Hampstead Garden, London, a couple raised their heads at the ceiling and wrinkled their brows in confusion, wondering what could possibly make such a noise in their ever-quiet home.

***

Hermione didn’t know where her mind took her. She couldn’t think straight—she couldn’t think at all—and her eyes were blurry and she was endlessly twisting in the gaps between space and time and she just needed to go somewhere quiet, somewhere safe, just anywhere but Gryffindor Tower, please, just somewhere safe—

Her knees slammed loudly against fine, eroded stones, and her body gave out. She laid on the ground before her—walls, halls, windows, alcoves, hills—was she in her hallway? She thought she saw figures but her tears clouded her vision. Threatening to spill. Not yet. 

A crisp, green apple rolled to where she lay.

It reminded her of Draco. Of the stupid apple he bit into day after day, year after year.

She took in a deep, shuddering breath.

Hermione felt fucking paralyzed.

And then she began to sob.

-

rainreignrayn on AO3

[onelittlesparkx]

ROSE WEASLEY

rose: just a girl (general)

rose: a little touch of heavenly light (visage)

rose: its all those little things i fear (aesthetic)

rose: it doesnt hurt me (dissendium)

rose: somebody told me (quotes)

rose: dont fear the reaper (hogwarts)

rose: im a whole lotta trouble in a skirt (drabbles and replies)

rose: watch out world im grown now (ron weasley)

rose: watch out world im grown now (hermione granger)

rose: and Id get him to swap our places (hugo weasley)

rose: associates at best (draegan nott)

[lunarflux]

Excerpt from my on-going Malfoy x OC / Hermione x OC fic Wattpad x FFN TLDR synopsis: Twins Io and Aster Visage transfer to Hogwarts at the behest of their uncle who witnessed a Seer prophesize Dumbledore's death. While at Hogwarts, Io catches the eye of Draco Malfoy who's more involved with the prophecy than she knows while Aster fights her desire for Hermione Granger after being torn between keeping her sister safe and holding onto the girl she's grown to love. Excerpt from Chapter 3: Two Blue Flames - Io and Aster attend their first Defense Against the Dark Arts class with Professor Snape who has them practice nonverbal spellcasting by dueling other students. Io and Draco test each other's strength, learning they match each other in determination and unspoken attraction.

"Tread carefully, Io." She suddenly sounded serious. "Harry and Draco are two sides of the same coin. Draco's family just got dragged through the mud, and Harry is the reason why. Even if Harry is only a friend... Draco could either think of it as a challenge or as a threat."

"There is no threat, no challenge, and no flirting." They stopped in front of the DADA classroom. "And besides," she pushed the door open, holding it without stepping forward. "Draco doesn't want to talk to me."

"And what makes you say that?" Aster pushed through. "It's only been a day. You should've seen him leaving breakfast right as you did. Even his friends gave it a second look. He's terribly pale, isn't he? Always looks so miserable. Then again, who can blame him? What a rotten year he's had. His father just got sent away to a very horrible place, he's had his and his mother's name plastered all over the Daily Prophet for walking out of the trial, and considering how little sunlight our common room gets, I seriously think he may be anemic."

"You got all that from one day?"

"You're the one trying not to look at him. I, on the other hand," she shrugged. "I have eyes. And so does Draco. He looks at you. Well, he looks at you when he's not sulking. Do you think Hogwarts students fool around every now and again?"

Io paused. "Aster, the entire sixth year just hit puberty."

"So, I take that as a yes?"

The conversation was cut short as Professor Snape entered the room. The room felt dark and gloomy, the walls littered with horrid, graphic paintings of what one might expect at the hands of a curse or something worse. At the corner of her eye, Io spotted the familiar shaggy dark hair of Harry Potter accompanied by Hermione and Ron Weasley. The redhead was impossible to miss.

Aster nudged her sister, noticing someone else. "You've got to be joking. They're all in this class - Draco is here."

The sullen scowl graced the front right corner of the room. It wasn't a surprise that this was his, along with a handful of other Slytherins, baileywick. She could tell just by the looks on their faces and the comfortable slouches that they felt at ease despite Professor Snape's effort to dampen everyone's spirit with his choice of decor.

"It's because this is their first N.E.W.T. year in DADA. D'you think they know we've already taken this exam back at Ilvermorny?"

"I seriously doubt it." Aster huffed, taking a seat in the center row, just a few tables back from the front. "And if Dumbledore did know, there's a reason why he put us in his class. I'll give you two guesses, and the answer rhymes with 'carry water'."

Io sat next to Aster, under the sly gaze of Draco who almost looked pleased to see her.

"Defense Against the Dark Arts," Professor Snape started his long, very eerie monologue about the perils and uses. The fatal dangers of coming face to face with Inferi. The soul-crushing pain of getting hit with the Cruciatis curse. Among other dreadful sounding curses, most of which were depicted on the walls, Snape laced his words with an authoritative caution, emphasizing the advantage of using nonverbal spells and counter-curses.

Aster found herself smiling as Hermione Granger answered Snape with hesitation despite being confident successfully quoting a line from their textbook. This classroom was a chaotic mix of excitement and fear. It was a playground for the twins, though they did well to hide it.

Uncle Altair taught them about nonverbal spells every year until last. It was paced alongside learning each spell, so that this lesson would not be batched all in one lesson but side-by-side with all the others. It was very beneficial, especially in this situation where no one else had dared to try.

Professor Snape instructed the class to pair up and practice. Aster felt the familiar twinge of excitement, giving her twin a 'good luck' pat on the back as they separated to find a dueling partner.

"Give it a go, Visage." Io stood across from Theo Nott who confidently pointed his wand right between her eyes. "Dueling club doesn't start until next week, and I want to see what you've got."

Without hesitation, Io whipped her wand in his direction, almost emitting a crack in the air like a crisp strike of lightning.

Theo crashed back into the wall, his chest heaving as he slowly slumped onto the cold floor. Io stood up straight, fixing her robes. "Get up, Nott. I'm not going easy on you until you know how to cast without your lips blubbering."

The class filled with snickers and sneers, mostly from the Gryffidnor students who relished in Slytherin house bullying each other for once.

Theo charged forward with weight in his steps. He mimicked Io's wand movement, but only managed to create a weak stun which Io knocked to the floor with her wand arm.

She raised her wand again, making Theo back up two steps, bracing himself. But instead of falling on his back again, his wand shot out of his hand into the air, clanking to the floor near the door to the class.

Snape grabbed Theo by the back of his shirt, dragging him out of the way. "Mr. Nott, I expected more from Slytherin house. Ms. Visage is merely showing off her Pukwudgie ego, but you're lucky she has somehow saved this house from embarrassment." He turned to face Io. "However, rebounding spells and stunning is much more difficult against a skilled hand."

Io thought for a moment that Snape was about to shoot a curse right at her chest but instead he called over a new partner for her.

Draco strutted over to where Snape stood, his wand ready at his side.

Clutching her wand, Io pulled her arm back, but before another crack could ripple through the air, Draco cast his stun, forcing Io back into the table behind her. Her pride dropped with the sound of the table dragging against the floor.

She gathered herself quickly, centering herself. Standing in a direct line across from Draco, she looked up. A menacing stare glazed over her face. "Again."

Draco smiled confidently, his wand arm ready to fire. "Not aggressive enough for you?" A few of the students giggled at his comment, unsure of how to interpret the tension between these two. It could've been described as magnetic - if the magnets were two raging blue flames trying not to join into one.

"I said, again, Draco."

On the opposite side of the room, Harry Potter noticed Io referring to Malfoy by his first name and chalked it up to Slytherin house familiarity. He expected someone like Io to hate Malfoy as much as he did, and he couldn't help but observe with Ron the brief duel happening on that side of the class.

Despite the brief conversation, Harry thought he'd made a friend, knowing fully well those were difficult to come by as the years went on. The girl who he'd had such a gentle conversation with this morning was suddenly this dark force to be feared. He couldn't have imagined having someone like her during the fight at the Ministry last year. The look on her face would've made a Death Eater question who she was, what she knew, and what she was capable of.

Draco started once more, his wand meeting an invisible target at Io's chest, but this time her arm was faster, rebounding the stun into the far wall. As soon as her hand fell, she brought her wand up, whipping around her head like a lasso before casting Incarcerus. The ropes flew through the air in Draco's direction as he hurriedly cast his protection charm.

There was a poetic battle between them, neither giving the other time to recover from casting. Everyone else in the room couldn't help but stop to observe in between their own exercise - Snape included. Io felt the ache setting into her shoulder, but her pride wouldn't allow her to waver, not even for a second. As Draco moved, his blonde locks gradually fell into his face, gently curtoning across his forehead. His eyes were determined, fiery yet playful and clearly amused. He was enjoying this, this kind of interaction didn't need words (nonverbal spells aside). He could feel her rage, her strength. The power in the air around her as she stared straight at him, her icy gray eyes meeting his blue like they were mentally connected. He could predict her moves, and every time she surprised him, he grew more intrigued.

Stepping out of his thoughts, Draco darkened his gaze, stepping forward and casting a particularly strong jinx in Io's direction. The force of Io's protection spell was enough to make his knees buckle.

But she didn't stop there, planting her forward foot down as her hand lashed back down, a roaring fire shooting out of the tip of her wand.

Draco stumbled backwards, his protection charm briefly failing, a flicker of fear disrupting the smirk on his face.

Professor Snape sidestepped in between them, his wand creating a void in between the flames before loudly declaring, "Enough! Sit down, Visage, before you start a fire in my classroom. 20 points to Slytherin."

He looked at the rest of the class who all, by now, were intently staring at the sapphire haired girl who was panting with adrenaline. Io calmed her breaths, walking over to Draco. She held her hand out as a sign of truce. Draco took her hand without comment, his palm was warm as he gripped hers for a second longer than she expected.

"Could almost swear you looked a little scared, Draco." She looked up at him, doing her best to steady herself. "I hope I didn't wear you out too much before lunch."

For the first time, Draco smiled genuinely. This sort of thing made his chest feel funny. Like he found a kindred spirit, though not as dark as his. She wasn't like Pansy, and she was tougher than some of his friends. It was less about impressing him and more about proving they were equals. His smile fell as soon as he realized he was doing it. Still holding her hand, he yanked his arm back, her cheek nearly meeting his shoulder as his lips skimmed the edge of her ear.

"You're going to have to try a little harder to tire me out."

[enthrclled]

tag drop. 3/?

[dhr-ao3]

Insomnia

Insomnia https://ift.tt/p6SWqxz by Teacup_of_Stars “Do you really think you can help me?” “I know I can try.” "You fill me with confidence Granger," Draco said rolling his eyes. "Why should I even let you?” “Because you have nothing to lose. I thought you knew what your options were?” “Sure but what's motivating you personally? Decided the world needed more time with this gorgeous visage?” “I took a vow as a healer ferret!" Hermione finally snapped. "Don’t read into it too much.” Words: 2298, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: F/M Characters: Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy Additional Tags: Healer Hermione Granger, Eventual Smut, Mutual Pining, Action/Adventure, Some angst, HEA, romcom, Romance, Business Man Draco Malfoy, No beta but I try really hard okay, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, In Vino Veritas, Swearing, He's gonna have to work for it, Draco Malfoy and the Discovery of Muggle Things via AO3 works tagged 'Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy' https://ift.tt/UaNOXPs June 10, 2024 at 05:39AM

[lostxdrcams]

Tag Drop | Ronald Weasley | HP

[ofwarriorsmade-a]

hermione granger tag drop (1/?)