#Morally Grey Hermione

[kind-hufflepuff]

HERMIONE GRANGER

[adraemelech]

Hi everyone! I have a Thursday surprise! I just uploaded chapter 8 of Ashes Of Eden, my wartime AU! We’re almost 30k words in which is INSANE to me. I never thought I would be able to write like this and I’m still so inspired. We’re getting so close to some really intense scenes and I am so excited to write them. I would appreciate if you guys would check it out and if you do I am eternally grateful. Thank you 💚

[elliebyrrdwrites]

The Heist pt. 3 "Draco's Study"

For those who have been enjoying my blurbs on the Draco/Theo/Granger pieces I've been drabbling about with. Here is part three. I've somehow managed to get this and two classes worth of assignments done today plus my daughters parent/teacher conference.

So, thank you for your encouragement and inspiration.

...

Draco stared down at the announcement placed in the Daily Prophet.

B. Nolan Flamel throws Gala of the year! An event meant to raise money for more affordable education and leave guests talking about it for years to come!

“Why does he leave the B?” Theo mused as he and Granger crowded around Draco’s desk. “If he hates his name so much, why doesn’t he just go by Nolan?”

Theo turned away and walked over to the book case that took up the entirety of the west wall of Draco’s study.

“He probably think it makes him seem more refined.” Granger snorted but kept staring at the paper, her eyes scanning the articles surrounding the ad. “Oh, look!” Draco lifted his eyes to catch her own light up. “Flourish and Blotts is having a summer sale.”

“Try to focus, love.” Theo drawled and snatched a random book from Draco’s shelf. “Here,” He sent it sailing toward her with the flick of his wrist. Granger reached out a hand and caught it, effortlessly. “Something to satiate your appetite for now.”

Draco laughed and pointed to the announcement. “This is how we’ll get in to case the house.”

Hermione opened the book, her eyes running over the pages. “It’s invite only.” She said and then grimaced at the contents. Draco grinned as he took in the title embossed into the spine. How to Master the Magic of the Bedroom. A book, he knew, to have a lot of illustrations.

“It was a gift.” He settled into his office chair as her scrutinizing eyes glanced up at him.

She snapped the book shut, but didn’t return it to the shelf. “I have an invite, but how will everyone else get one?”

“You have an invite?” Theo whirled on her.

She sniffed. “Of course. We did end things amicably, after all.”

“You’re friends with a man you dated, who has been known to traffic humans and whom you are currently in the process of taking down.” Theo threw himself onto a sofa. “Seems healthy.”

“Would we have an invite if I didn’t?” Granger’s voice oozed a sickly sweetness that belied the narrowed gaze she settled onto Theo.

“Well woo for you. But, how are the rest of us supposed to get in?”

“What rest of us? You two have yet to help me assemble a team.” She opened the book back and and began to flip through the pages. There was a new determination in the way she browsed the book that kept Draco’s grin in place.

“First of all,” Draco interrupted. “I can duplicate them.”

Granger looked up from her book, her cheeks slightly flushed. “You can? These invites are really quite difficult to replicate.”

Draco shrugged. “Tea?” He asked before flicking his wand, summoning a platter of tea cups, a tea pot and raspberry scones. “Regardless, I think I can only successfully duplicate three before the charm starts to weaken. We’ll need more.”

“We also need a distraction. Someone or something to distract Flamel from the rest of us casing the place.” Theo added as he walked around the room. His friend, Draco had noted, was pacing, which meant that he was nervous. Or otherwise, mentally preoccupied.

Draco nodded as he poured them each a cup of tea. “A celebrity amongst the crowd. Milk?” He asked Granger, having no idea how she took her tea. He took his sweet and creamy, while Theo took his bitter and overly steeped.

“Yes, but no sugar.” She slid onto the edge of his desk and continued to peruse the book in her hands. “Do you know of any celebrities that would be willing to attend?”

He took a sip of his tea and lifted his brows at her. “No, but you do.”

She shut the book and Draco smiled as she slipped it into her charmed purse. It sunk into the bag with ease, disappearing into an abyss. “You mean Harry?” Granger picked up her cup of tea and blew on it.

“The chosen one himself.”

While Draco had expected her to scoff and suggest anyone else, he was pleasantly surprised when she looked at him, thoughtfully.

Her warm brown eyes penetrated into his skin, though he knew she had sunk into herself. He learned, over the past two days, what Theo had meant when he had called Granger ‘interesting.’

She rambled, endlessly, whenever her brain simply could not hold all of her thoughts inside of her head. She would spew them into the atmosphere and down the, all before falling calm and quiet once more. And in that quiet, she would dive deep into her inner dialogue. Her replies would become short, but her stare never turned vacant.

As if she were indeed there, while also somewhere else.

“Some form of astral projection,” Theo had called it yesterday while musing over the behavior or Hermione Granger.

Draco had called her a bit mad but Theo had only shrugged and pointed out that really, weren’t they all a bit mad?

He had to agree, as he stared and stared at the witch he had once incessantly insulted. The witch who now believed in her morals so heavily that she had deemed that illegally screwing them over was well worth it. With him and Theo Nott, no less. Two rich, high class wizards who didn’t need the pretty things they stole. Yet, they did it and they enjoyed it. Sure, their pockets grew a bit fatter, but that wasn’t why they became thief’s. It wasn’t the reason for their rebellion against society.

“Do you think he’ll actually do it? He doesn’t have to know about the job, obviously.”

“No,” she said the word slowly. Pulling it out like honey as a flutter of a smile pressed into her lips. She set her cup down. “No, it’s brilliant, actually.” And she leapt from the desk.

“Potter?” Theo leaned onto his elbows and looked over the couch at the two of them. “Really? I mean, I get that he’s really into catching bad wizards and all that but this sort of work falls right into the morally grey area that Potter seems so against.”

Draco continued to sip on his tea as he watched the exchange. Still thoroughly amused by it all.

“Actually, Harry is passionately opposed to the dark side of magic. The in between is pretty much where I, his best friend, has lived for the majority of her life.”

Theo pushed his lower lip out. “I thought I was your best friend.”

But Granger frowned with a little shake of her head. “I don’t know how to answer that right now.”

“I wish you would.” Draco said just before biting into a raspberry scone.

She only glanced at him. “What time is it?” She checked her muggle watch. It was 10:30 in the morning. “I’ll need use your Floo.” She said to Draco before heading for the door of his study.

“Fine, I’ll accept Potter. But I draw the line at Weasley!” Theo called after her as she swept from the room.

Draco lifted his tea and said around his bite, “Here, here.”

Theo fell back onto the couch with a heavy sigh but lifted his wand into the air. The cup of tea Draco had poured for him drifted over and landed, gracefully into his waiting hand.

Draco bit, again, into his scone and watched his friend rest his cup onto his chest.

“I can feel your eyes on me, Draco.” He said as he gazed up at the ceiling. “You think we’re missing something.” He pauses and Draco merely swallows his bite and settles his eyes back onto the paper. “You think we need a demo guy.” He sighed, exasperatedly, as if Draco had replied. “I can see how it would come in handy, obviously. But that doesn’t take away from the fact that we also need an Inside Man.”

Draco leaned back in his chair and took a sip of his tea.

“Fine.” He exhaled, sat up and chugged his tea. “I’ll go find our Demo guy.” He shot a speculative look at Draco. “But you had better go and get our Inside Guy.”

Draco frowned at his friend as he turned to leave. “Wouldn’t Potter be our Inside Guy?”

Theo froze and glanced over his shoulder. “He can be both the distraction and the Inside guy, I suppose. Let’s wait until Granger returns and see what he says.”

“Theo,”

Theo groaned and spun to face Draco. “What?”

“There’s a nonzero chance this will work.”

The look of annoyance vanished and Theo’s face morphed into one of jubilant determination. “It has to. I’m going all in.”

[fic-ive-read]

Link To The Fic

[thatsoanjie]

When the wind settles

Sebastian Sallow x reader

Summary : After Ranrok was ended, a Goblin rebellion happened. This is 5 months after the rebellion, and everyone thought you were gone for good. Sebastian revisits Feldcroft in an attempt to find traces of you again, not knowing what's to come.

Word count : 1.5k

Notes : This one was a little heavier to write! Just had to get this one out of my mind.

TW : Mentions of su!c!dal ideation... read at your own discretion.

Read my disclaimer and fair use notice here

The ruins of Feldcroft lay still, a silent testament to the war that had ravaged the land. The village, once vibrant with life, was now a graveyard of memories, its cottages reduced to charred skeletons, its streets choked with debris. The air was heavy with the scent of damp earth and ashes, a grim reminder of all that had been lost. Snow had begun to fall again, soft and steady, as if the sky itself was mourning.

Sebastian Sallow stood in the center of what had once been his home, his heart as cold and lifeless as the stones scattered around him. It had been five months since the final battle of the Goblin Rebellion, five months since he had lost almost everything that mattered. Ominis and Anne were safe, and for that, he was grateful, but the knowledge did nothing to fill the void inside him.

Because you were gone.

The thought was a knife in his chest, a pain that had become as familiar as his own heartbeat. You had been his anchor, his hope, his everything. And now you were nothing more than a memory—a ghost that haunted his every waking moment. They had told him you were dead, that you had been lost in the chaos of the battle, your body never found. He had refused to believe it at first, had scoured the wreckage for any sign of you, but as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, the terrible truth had settled in.

You were gone. And there was nothing he could do to change that.

The guilt was a constant companion, a weight he could never shake. You had been the best of them, the light that had kept him going through the darkest times. And now that light was extinguished, leaving him to stumble through the shadows alone.

He had come back to Feldcroft because there was nowhere else to go. The world outside was trying to rebuild, to move on, but Sebastian was stuck in the past, trapped in a moment that he couldn’t escape. The ruins of Feldcroft were all that was left of his old life, a desolate reflection of the emptiness he carried inside him. 

He wandered through the village, his steps slow and heavy, his mind lost in the memories of what had once been. He could still see it, as if the echoes of the past were imprinted on the air—the laughter of children playing in the streets, the warm glow of lanterns in the windows, the scent of freshly baked bread wafting from the cottages. But those memories were like ghosts, insubstantial and fleeting, impossible to hold on to.

Just like you.

Sebastian’s breath hitched as he reached the edge of the village, where the land sloped down toward the river. This had been your favorite spot, the place where you had always come to find peace, to escape from the burdens of the world. He could almost see you there, standing by the water, your hair catching the light as you turned to smile at him.

But it was just a memory. Just another ghost.

He closed his eyes, the ache in his chest unbearable. He didn’t know how to keep going without you, didn’t want to keep going. The world was a darker place without you in it, and he was so tired of stumbling through the shadows, of trying to find his way in a world that no longer made sense.

But then, through the silence, he heard it—a sound so soft, so faint, that at first, he thought it was just the wind. But it came again, more distinct this time, a footstep crunching in the snow behind him.

His heart stopped, his breath catching in his throat. He turned slowly, afraid to look, afraid to hope. And then he saw you.

You were standing just a few feet away, your figure half-hidden by the falling snow, your eyes wide with shock and something else—something that mirrored the grief and yearning that had been eating away at him for so long.

For a moment, he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. His mind struggled to process what he was seeing, to reconcile the image of you standing before him with the brutal reality he had been living in. It couldn’t be real. You were gone. You were a ghost.

“Sebastian,” you whispered, your voice trembling as if you, too, were afraid that this was just a dream, that you might wake up at any moment and find yourself alone again.

He shook his head, his eyes wide with disbelief. “You’re not real,” he said, his voice breaking as he took a step back, his hands trembling at his sides. “You can’t be real.”

“Sebastian, it’s me,” you insisted, your voice thick with emotion as you took a step toward him, your hand reaching out as if to reassure him, to prove that you were real, that you were here.

He flinched, his heart pounding in his chest as he stared at you, his mind screaming that this couldn’t be happening, that you were just a figment of his imagination, conjured by his grief and longing. “You’re dead,” he whispered, his voice raw with the pain that had been festering inside him for months. “They told me you were dead.”

“I almost was,” you admitted, your voice barely more than a breath. “I was hurt, Sebastian—badly. But I survived. I made it to one of the camps, and they healed me. After that, I helped wherever I could—healing, rebuilding, trying to make sense of everything that had happened. But my work there was done, I had nothing keeping me there. I had to find you.”

He stared at you, his heart breaking all over again at the sight of the tears in your eyes, the grief and love that shone in them. “I thought I’d lost you,” he whispered, his voice trembling with the weight of his emotions. “I thought you were gone, and I didn’t know how to keep going without you.”

You took another step closer, your hand brushing against his arm, warm and solid and so achingly real. “I’m here now,” you whispered, your voice filled with a quiet, unshakable determination. “We’re both here, Sebastian. We survived.”

He swallowed hard, his throat tight with the tears he had been holding back for so long. “It should’ve been me,” he choked out, the words slipping out before he could stop them. “You didn’t deserve this. You didn’t deserve to suffer like that. I should’ve been the one to die, not you.”

“No,” you said firmly, your voice laced with a fierce, desperate kind of love. “Don’t you ever say that, Sebastian. We both fought, we both survived. And now we’re here. Alive.”

He hesitated, his heart warring with his mind, his grief and guilt battling against the overwhelming relief of having you in his arms again. “I thought I’d lost you,” he repeated, his voice breaking as he finally let himself believe what he was seeing, let himself believe that you were really here, that this wasn’t just a cruel trick of his imagination.

You reached up, your hand cupping his cheek, your touch grounding him, anchoring him in the reality of the moment. “I’m right here,” you whispered, your voice trembling with the depth of your emotions. “And I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving you, Sebastian. Not now. Not ever.”

He couldn’t hold back any longer. With a broken sob, he pulled you into his arms, holding you as tightly as he could, as if he could somehow make up for all the lost time, for all the moments he had thought he would never have with you again. You clung to him just as fiercely, your tears soaking into his shirt as you buried your face in his chest, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you tried to steady yourself.

“I love you,” he whispered, the words spilling out of him in a rush, as if he had been holding them back for too long. “I love you. I should have told you before, but I was too scared, too afraid of what might happen. But I’m not going to make that mistake again.”

“I love you too,” you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of the words. “I always have, Sebastian. And I’m not going to let you go. Not now. Not ever.”

He kissed you then, slow and deep, pouring all of his love, all of his grief, all of his yearning into that one kiss. It was a kiss filled with the promise of tomorrow, with the hope of a future that he had thought was lost. And as he held you in his arms, surrounded by the ruins of Feldcroft, the wind swirling around you like a shroud, he knew that he had found you again.

And that was enough.

***

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed. Requests are open.

[rogata453]

oh „Mr. Voldemort, Dark Lord, sir” you will forever be famous

[scorpiusmalfoylovesoscarwilde]

yall know that "you're on the edge of the bed, you're bout to fall off" sound that's going round tiktok rn? anyway, that's so drastoria on their wedding night fr

draco is often depicted as very sexual and experienced and dominant in fanfics, especially in dramione. but leik,,, did we read the same fucking books?? 😭 does that look like a man comfortable with being vulnerable and naked with someone??? absolutely NOT, he is blushing and stuttering and on the edge of the bed thank you very much, he does not know what to do with himself.

draco malfoy is a chronic virgin, pass it on

[gandergaal]

When the f(m)c is...

Perfect in everything she does, she is a Mary Sue and everyone is complaining.

When the f(m)c makes mistakes she is dumb and everyone is complaining.

When the f(m)c has insecurities she is a pick me and everyone is complaining.

If the f(m)c feels negative emotions and expresses them she is whiny and weak and everyone is complaining.

If the f(m)c is not very expressive/ lacking communication skills she is rude and everyone is complaining.

If the f(m)c tries to exert her independence and is confident in herself she is too full of herself and everyone is complaining.

If the f(m)c is morally grey then she is too boring and everyone is complaining.

It maybe fiction but it does resonate with how we want to percieve our world.

I also would like to call out the people who don't see the male charecters beyond how sexy/hot the seem to be.

Because it goes both ways.

[softone-ao3]

Trust Me, Trust You - by softone.

After the war, Hermione Granger is no stranger to impossible missions, but infiltrating the remnants of the Death Eaters requires more than courage—it requires her to work alongside someone she never thought she'd have to see again. Draco Malfoy - a man she has every reason to hate and no reason to trust.

Thrown together in a world of deception and danger, their partnership is anything but easy. Each mission pushes them closer to their breaking points, forcing them to rely on one another in ways neither of them is prepared for. Between tense standoffs, moments of vulnerability, and secrets they can’t afford to share, lines begin to blur.

What starts as hatred simmers into something neither of them can name—a connection that feels as dangerous as the world they’re trying to take down. But in a game where every lie could be their last, is trust the most dangerous weapon of all?

Enemies. Partners. Lovers. In the end, they’ll have to decide where they stand—and whether they’ll stand together.

Chapter 1: The Devil You Know

The meeting room was cramped, the air heavy with the exhaustion of too many late nights. The small, round table was cluttered with mugs of lukewarm coffee and half-empty bowls of stale biscuits. Hermione sat at the edge, arms crossed, staring at the map of wizarding hotspots spread across the table. The murmurs of her colleagues filled the room, but nothing seemed to settle the storm inside her.

“You’re kidding me, right?” Auror Jenkins asked, his voice tight with disbelief. “We can’t go in blind again. The Ministry’s been doing this for months—if we don’t have more intel, this whole thing will blow up in our faces.”

“I know, I know.” Harry’s voice was strained, an edge of frustration beneath his calm exterior. “But the Intelligence Division is tied up with the bigger players. We’re on our own for this one.”

Hermione shifted in her chair, her eyes narrowing. The situation had grown more volatile by the day, but it felt like they were circling a problem that no one had the courage to face head-on.

“What’s the real issue here, Harry?” she asked, her voice cutting through the rising tension. “We’ve been chasing shadows for months, and we still don’t have anything concrete. The Death Eaters are regrouping, but we can’t even figure out who’s leading them. This isn’t just a logistical problem—it’s political.”

She could feel everyone’s gaze on her, the subtle shift in the room as her words landed. It wasn’t just the information that was missing—it was the trust. Who could they rely on when the walls were closing in?

“We’ll deal with that when we know what we’re up against.” Harry rubbed his temples, frustration visible on his face.

He let out a long sigh, his shoulders slumping. “But plans have changed. Again. We’re not getting the reinforcements we expected, and the timelines have moved up.”

The tension in the room ratcheted up a notch. A few Aurors exchanged uneasy glances; others muttered curses under their breath.

“So what, we wing it?” Jenkins snapped, his face red. “We’re supposed to be the Ministry’s first line of defense, and they’re treating us like bloody house-elves fetching their tea!”

“Enough!” Harry’s voice cracked like a whip, cutting through the noise. “I know you’re angry. I am too. But sitting here and griping about it isn’t going to solve anything.”

The room fell quiet, though it wasn’t calm. Jenkins dropped into his seat, arms crossed, his glare fixed firmly on the tabletop.

Hermione leaned forward, her elbows resting on the table. “What exactly has changed, Harry? What are we walking into this time?”

Harry hesitated, glancing down at the pile of reports in front of him. The pause was brief but heavy, as though he was trying to find a way to soften the blow. When he looked back up, there was no softness in his expression though, and Hermione wondered if she had imagined it.

“We’ve got confirmation that the Death Eater remnants aren’t just a scattered threat anymore,” he said grimly. “They’ve reorganized under someone new. And whoever it is, they’re smart. They’ve managed to evade every probe we’ve sent their way. Every lead dries up before we can act on it.”

“Brilliant,” muttered an Auror at the back. “So we’re fighting a ghost.”

Hermione’s jaw tightened. “What’s the plan, then?”

Harry’s gaze landed on her, and for a moment, she felt the weight of it pressing down on her chest. “We need someone inside. Someone who can earn their trust, gather information, and figure out who’s pulling the strings.”

The silence that followed was deafening, his stare pointed. Hermione could feel the shift in the room as every eye turned to her. She didn’t need Harry to spell it out.

“Absolutely not,” Jenkins barked, shoving his chair back. “You’re talking about sending one of our own into the middle of that mess on her own? It’s suicide!”

“It’s not suicide,” Harry shot back, his tone icy. “It’s necessary. And it’s not just her. There’s already someone embedded in the network. Someone with experience.”

Hermione frowned. “Who?”

Harry hesitated, his lips pressing into a thin line. The pause was long enough to make Hermione’s stomach churn.

“Draco Malfoy.”

The name dropped like a boulder in the room. Jenkins let out a bark of laughter, though there was no humor in it.

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not,” Harry said firmly. “He’s been working as a double agent for months now. And whether you like it or not, he’s our best shot at cracking this thing open.”

Hermione’s chest tightened. Memories of the war, of battles fought on opposing sides, flashed in her mind. She forced herself to breathe.

“Does he know I’m being brought in?” she asked, her voice calm despite the feelings raging inside her.

“He does,” Harry replied. “And he’s not thrilled about it either. But like the rest of us, he doesn’t have a choice.”

For a moment, no one spoke. Then Jenkins slammed his fist on the table, the sound echoing through the room. “This is madness.”

“It’s what we’ve got,” Harry said sharply. “And it’s happening. So if anyone else has something useful to contribute, speak now. Otherwise, get to work. Dismissed.”

The room erupted into movement, chairs scraping against the floor as Aurors grabbed their things and filed out. Hermione stayed seated, her thoughts racing.

After a few short moments that seemed to stretch into forever with how busy she was inside her own mind, she noticed that Harry lingered behind, watching her carefully. “You alright?”

She met his gaze and squared her shoulders, her expression unreadable. “I will be.” ***** Hermione stayed seated as the room emptied, watching the other Aurors file out with a mix of frustration and exhaustion etched across their faces. Jenkins muttered something under his breath as he passed her, but she didn’t bother to catch it. Her thoughts were already miles away.

Draco Malfoy.

Of all the names Harry could have dropped, his was the last she’d expected. The war had ended years ago, but Malfoy was still a tangle of contradictions in her mind—arrogant, cowardly, redeemable, and infuriating in equal measure. Her stomach churned with an acidic mix of anger and unease. Memories she had buried deep—cold floors, jeering laughter, and the sound of Bellatrix’s voice—threatened to surface.

She clenched her fists under the table, her nails biting into her palms. No. She wouldn’t let herself spiral. Not here. Not now.

Harry sat down across from her, his tired eyes scanning her face. “You’re not going to back out, are you?”

She shook her head sharply. “No. But I need to know—can we trust him?”

Harry leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his already messy hair. “Trust isn’t the right word. He’s useful, and so far, he’s delivered results. But he’s still Malfoy. He’s not doing this out of the goodness of his heart.”

“Then why is he doing it?” she pressed, her voice tight.

“Self-preservation, mostly,” Harry admitted. “And maybe a shred of guilt, though I wouldn’t count on it. He’s walking a fine line, Hermione, and if he slips... Well, let’s just say it won’t end well for him.”

Hermione exhaled slowly, forcing herself to focus on the facts. “And you’re sure I’m the right person for this? No one else can do it?”

“You’re the best we’ve got,” Harry said simply. “Smart, resourceful, and more importantly, you’re not blinded by grudges. You’ll see things clearly, even with Malfoy in the picture.”

Clearly? Hermione nearly laughed. There was nothing clear about the tidal wave of emotions threatening to consume her. Anger, revulsion, fear—but also, strangely, a thread of grim determination. She’d survived worse than working with Draco Malfoy. She would survive this too.

“When do I meet him?” she asked, her voice steadier than she felt.

Harry glanced at his watch. “He’s in the briefing room now. I thought it’d be better to rip the bandage off sooner rather than later.”

“Brilliant,” she muttered, standing up.

As she followed Harry down the corridor, the weight of the mission settled heavily on her shoulders. She’d known this job would demand sacrifices, but working with Malfoy? That was going to take every ounce of restraint she had. The walls of the Ministry seemed to close in around her as they approached the briefing room. Her breath quickened despite her attempts to control it.

The door loomed ahead, and Harry opened it without hesitation. Hermione stepped inside, her heart pounding, and there he was.

Draco Malfoy leaned against the far wall, arms crossed and an expression of faint irritation on his face. He was dressed in dark, nondescript robes, his pale hair tied back neatly. Time had refined him—his features sharper, his posture more composed—but it was unmistakably him.

The air seemed to leave the room. Her vision narrowed, the edges blurring as her mind betrayed her with flashes of the past. Malfoy Manor. Her screams echoing off cold stone. Bellatrix’s wild eyes. The way he’d stood there, frozen, watching. Not stopping it. Not even trying.

“Granger,” he drawled, his voice pulling her violently back to the present. The sound was smoother than she remembered, but it still carried that same grating arrogance. “This should be... interesting.”

Hermione’s chest tightened, a flush of heat rising to her cheeks. She could feel the weight of Harry’s gaze on her, but she couldn’t look away from Malfoy. Every nerve in her body screamed at her to walk out, to refuse. Instead, she forced her lips to move.

“Malfoy.” The single word was cold, clipped, but it was enough.

Harry stepped between them, his tone sharp. “Don't start. You don’t have to like each other, but you do have to work together. Understood?”

Malfoy smirked faintly, but he nodded. Hermione’s hands were trembling, so she crossed her arms to hide them. This was going to be harder than she’d thought.

The room felt colder with Malfoy in it, though she couldn’t tell if it was him or the memories he dredged up. Even as Harry launched into the briefing, Hermione’s mind snagged on the details—Malfoy’s stance, the faint curl of his lip when Harry spoke, the way his eyes flicked briefly to hers and then away, like a predator taking measure of its prey.

His hands were too still, clasped loosely in front of him, and she hated that she noticed. Was it calm, or was it calculation? He was always a puzzle, one she’d long since stopped trying to solve, but now the pieces were forced into her hands again.

“Hermione,” Harry’s voice cut through her spiraling thoughts.

She blinked, her focus snapping back to the present. “Sorry, what?”

“I said you’ll be taking the lead on this mission,” Harry repeated, his tone patient but firm. “Malfoy will provide the intel and support you need, but the strategy is up to you. He’s already embedded, which means—”

“You’ll be stepping into my world, Granger,” Malfoy interrupted smoothly, his voice like silk stretched over steel.

Hermione stiffened, her jaw clenching. “I’m well aware, Malfoy.”

“Good,” he said, his lips curling into a ghost of a smirk. “I’d hate for you to fall behind.”

Her fingers itched to hex the smugness off his face, but she forced herself to remain still. Instead, she let her gaze drift to the folder Harry had placed on the table—a thick stack of parchment bristling with clipped-on photos and hastily scrawled notes. She focused on the top photo, a grainy image of a cloaked figure slipping into a dimly lit alley, and let its details ground her.

The world narrowed to ink and paper. The curve of a streetlamp, the glint of a wand in the figure’s hand. She noted the angle of their stride, the way they seemed to favor their left leg.

“Do we have confirmation on their identity?” she asked, her voice steady now, crisp.

Harry nodded. “We believe it’s Caleb Mulciber. He’s been recruiting heavily in the north. This operation is our best chance to cut him off before he consolidates power.”

“And I assume he’s dangerous?” she pressed.

Malfoy chuckled softly, and she bristled at the sound. “Granger, if he weren’t dangerous, we wouldn’t be here.”

Her head snapped up, and their eyes locked. For a moment, she forgot about the photos, the mission, even Harry’s presence. All she saw was the man who had stood silent while she screamed, who had watched her break and had done nothing.

But he wasn’t that boy anymore. His face was harder now, his gaze sharper. There was something fractured in him, too, she realized—a shadow behind his arrogance that hadn’t been there before.

She looked away first, her stomach twisting.

“Right,” she said briskly, turning back to Harry. “Then we’d better not waste time.”

[tippilo]

Underrated Fanfic Friday!

Antinomian by @starsoforionwrites is so good! And such a rollercoaster! Seriously, AMAZING! This Draco is psychotically obsessed ("who did this to you") and Hermione doesn't know what's come over him. I LOVE IT!

The book starts to shift in tone as they enter the war and Draco struggles to grapple with his obsession, keep her safe, and stay alive.

I feel like this fic is severely underrated in my opinion ❤❤❤

Read it on AO3 HERE

XOXO - Tipp

[adraemelech]

I literally have no patience when I finish a chapter. I have to post it asap. I wasn’t going to post until the weekend but I was able to edit it tonight. Here is Chapter 5 of Ashes of Eden. Lots of back & forth w/ Hermione and Draco! I hope you enjoy!

If anyone comes across this post, I have changed the chapter breakdown and currently have 7 chapters instead of 5! 😶 just wanted to give everyone a heads up!

[oursistheday]

You know that feeling, when the first idea of your story lands?

Best feeling ever. You fly on the clouds like a little bird, while at the same time there's lava boiling under your skin. You have a vision of Voldemort playing a sadistic game with Severus Snape:

"I don't trust you, you grimy dungeon bat."

"My Lord, I am your loyal servant."

"Prove it to me."

"I'll do anything for your dark majesty."

"Seduce Harry Potter's mudblood pet."

And then darling Sev is like "NO, I WILL NOT DO IT. YOU CANNOT FORCE ME, DUMBLEDORE, I HAVE A RIGHT NOT TO DO THIS!"

And Albus is popping a lemon drop into his mouth. "Put out the flame under your cauldron and stop heralding the end of the world, Severus. It's not like we ask you to gut out a thousand rats. You have both your masters' blessing to take a young and pretty virgin to your bed, and instead of thanking us, you moan and grumble about how unfair it all is and how Lily would disapprove if she was still alive."

And then your brain explodes, because you need need need need to put this into writing. But the thing is, you have two more stories half-posted and waiting patiently to be finished, while behind your back, one of your shortfics has birthed a whole sequel about destroying Horcruxes. How can you refuse an Albus/OFC story where they destroy horcruxes, I mean, come on.

And yet, your first Snamione beckons you invitingly.... You cannot refuse, not when you are finally writing something that people other than you seem to find interesting :''3

You've never written Snamione before, and now you have a somewhat interesting premise. You've posted the first chapter, you get lots of positive feedback, Severus and Hermione get stuck in your mind, dancing a frenzy waltz all over your synapses.

You have a plot for the Snamione now. It's a tight plot; it feels like a good plot. You play with it for a while, as if you're letting the characters decide. You say, if one of them feels they don't want to proceed with this, I will not write a second chapter. I will leave the one I posted as it is, to remain forever a lonely little one-shot, a spinster on the figurative shelf, the poor dear.

I started writing fics to help me cope with my anxiety. I thought it would be soothing, relaxing, not unlike a mother's embrace that always shelters you from the evils of the world.

Three years later, relaxed is NOT how I feel.

Come join me in Ao3, to read all about Severus' latest ordeal!! How will he proceed with this peculiar task? And how about Hermione, his intended victim? What has she to say for herself?

[beyond-good-and-death-eaters]

Are you interested in developing your craft as a writer while still having some casual fun? Interested in meeting other creators in the HP Fandom?

Then we would love to have you at Writing Beyond Good and Death Eaters!

About us:

We are a 21+ Harry Potter Discord server where creators of all levels come together to refine their craft, explore the gray areas of story telling and Harry Potter characters, and connect with a supportive community. Whether you're a writer, an artist, or a podfic reader, of any level, you're welcome to join!

Link to Join Discord

Video by: noxinkwell

[ambition-heiress]

Drarry | Hogwarts Six Year | Grey Morality | Magical Theory | TW: Past Rape - Not Graphic | Manipulation

The Truest Lie by Zoythren

There was no need to tell the Dark Lord, or anyone for that matter, about his motivation behind this, apart from survival instinct.

There was no need to think about them in the first place, so he shoved them all away. If he wanted to pull this off, he needed to be exactly as ruthless and cunning and despicable as people thought him to be.

Maybe, one day, in a far away, unattainable future, he would be allowed to explain himself.

_

Harry knows something is wrong with Malfoy and he intends to find out what.

He expects it to be a Dark Mark on his arm, and a horrible task.

What he doesn't expect is finding a Draco Malfoy that is almost impossible to stay away from. What he doesn't expect to find his for his school rival to show him all the truths no one else dares to say out loud. What he doesn't expect to find ... is everything.

[thatsoanjie]

Lessons in tension

Sebastian Sallow x reader

Summary : You and Sebastian resolve the skirmish in Feldcroft, where Sebastian gets to witness your magical abilities firsthand. Family drama ensues. Back at Hogwarts, will things have changed for good between you and Sebastian? Or will the friendship last the lessons in tension?

Word count : 6.3k

Notes : Whew! Glad to get this one out there. This was an idea i've been sitting on for a while. Enjoy!

CW : Writing in details about a part of the In The Shadow Of Time quest... 1-2 lines that are gorier if you're not too fond of it lol.

Read my disclaimer and fair use notice here

The distant rumble of battle reverberated through the air as you and Sebastian hurried along the path to Feldcroft, the familiar cobblestone crunching under your feet. In the distance, you could see the dark plumes of smoke rising from the small village, curling like tendrils of a nightmare. The sky above had dulled, casting the entire landscape in an eerie, muted glow. There was a chill in the wind, one that cut through your robes and sent a ripple of unease through you.

Sebastian’s expression was grim, his jaw clenched so tightly that the muscles in his face stood out sharply. He hadn’t said much since the first signs of attack reached Hogwarts, but you could feel the worry radiating off him in waves. The desperation to protect what was left of his family—of his sister—was palpable, and you felt it too.

As the village came into view, chaos unfolded before you. Goblins swarmed the streets, their voices harsh and guttural as they gave orders to one another. Solomon’s home stood at the far end, fortifications shimmering as he worked tirelessly to hold off the onslaught, protecting Anne, who you knew was tucked safely inside.

Sebastian slowed, scanning the scene. “They’ve breached the perimeter,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. His hand hovered near his wand, every muscle in his body tensed, ready to spring into action. “Anne’s inside. She’s safe. Solomon’s strong enough to hold for a while, but...”

His words trailed off as his eyes flicked to you. There was a silent understanding between you. There wasn’t time for hesitation. Without a word, Sebastian drew his wand, and you both plunged into the fray.

You couldn’t help but admire the way he moved, his wand a seamless extension of himself. The spells that shot from his fingertips were precise, sharp, and relentless. He dodged a goblin’s swing with effortless grace, retaliating with a barrage of quick-fire hexes that sent his opponent sprawling. His movements were so fluid, so practiced, that for a brief moment, you allowed yourself to simply watch.

He was relentless—driven by something deeper than the need to fight. His need to protect Anne, his need to redeem himself for past choices, all of it was in the way he fought, his expression a storm of determination and pain.

You followed his lead at first, relying on your own wandwork, though the familiar hum of ancient magic buzzed faintly under your skin. You’d told him once, about the magic you could wield. The kind that didn’t rely on incantations or hand movements. The kind that answered to something far more primal. But Sebastian had brushed it off, teasing you at first, then simply chalking it up to exaggeration, to the overblown tales that often circulated among students. He had never believed it fully.

Not until now.

A goblin lunged at you from your left, its weapon raised high, and instinct took over. You sidestepped, your wand flicking as you sent a blast of Depulso into its chest. The goblin staggered back but didn’t fall. There were too many. They kept multiplying, flooding the village like a relentless tide.

Your magic stirred again—stronger this time. And you knew it was only a matter of time before you’d have to stop holding it back.

Sebastian glanced at you between spells, the same flicker of concern shadowing his features. He didn’t say it, but you could tell he was worried. Feldcroft was slipping, and you both knew that simple spells wouldn’t be enough. Not for long.

Another group of goblins surged from the far end of the village, overwhelming the villagers and the few Aurors who had managed to arrive. You cast another spell, but the creatures barely slowed. And then, just as one raised its axe toward Sebastian, you acted on instinct.

You didn’t shout an incantation. You didn’t need to.

The ancient magic surged forward as if it had been waiting, thrumming through your veins, your fingertips tingling with raw power. You raised your hand, and the air around you seemed to ripple, distorting for a brief moment. The goblin was lifted off its feet, caught in the invisible force, and before anyone could react, you slammed it into the ground with a deafening crack. The earth trembled beneath your feet, and dust rose from the crater left in the goblin’s wake.

For a second, everything stopped.

Sebastian turned toward you, his face drained of color, eyes wide. There was no teasing in his expression this time—only disbelief, awe, and something darker, something closer to fear. He had seen you cast powerful spells before, but this was different. This was raw, unfiltered, ancient power, and you could see the realization dawning in his eyes.

But there wasn’t time for him to fully process it. The battle raged on.

You could feel it now, the pull of the magic inside you, urging you to let it loose. And with each passing moment, the goblins kept coming, their numbers seemingly endless. Your wand movements grew faster, more frantic, as the realization struck you that even with this magic, you might not be able to stop them all.

“Sebastian!” you called over the noise, as another group of goblins appeared on the horizon. “We can’t hold them like this. There’s too many!”

He nodded, his eyes still darting between you and the goblins. “I know.” His voice was rough, strained. “But we don’t have a choice.”

That was when you felt it again—the overwhelming surge of power, more potent than before, more insistent. Your ancient magic flared, burning brighter, and you knew what had to be done. Without a word, you stepped forward, letting the magic take control.

The sky above you darkened further, clouds swirling as a tempest gathered overhead. You raised your wand, the air around you crackling with energy. Blue light arced from the tip of your wand, a wild, electric storm forming in the sky. You could hear the low rumble of thunder, the buildup of something immense, something destructive.

And then, with a single motion, you brought your wand down.

Light blue thunder, brilliant and blinding, streaked down from the heavens, striking the goblins in front of you with terrifying precision. Four of them collapsed instantly, their bodies convulsing in the electric storm before they lay still, smoke curling from their forms.

The village fell silent. Even the remaining goblins hesitated, staring at the destruction you had wrought. The storm above you dissipated slowly, the last remnants of the blue light fading into the clouds. You stood there, breathless, your hand still tingling from the raw energy that had coursed through it.

Sebastian was staring at you again, but this time, he wasn’t moving. His wand was still at his side, forgotten. His face was unreadable, a storm of emotions fighting for dominance. He swallowed hard, taking a hesitant step toward you.

“You… you weren’t exaggerating,” he said, his voice hoarse. His eyes were wide, still locked onto you as if he couldn’t quite believe what he had seen. “I thought you were just—” He shook his head, unable to finish the sentence. “That was...”

You waited for him to continue, unsure of what he might say. The battlefield was littered with the bodies of goblins, and yet, all you could focus on was the way he looked at you now—both terrified and captivated, both in awe and at a loss for words.

Sebastian finally stopped in front of you, close enough that you could see the rapid rise and fall of his chest. His eyes were darker now, filled with something deeper. “You could’ve told me,” he murmured, a hint of something accusatory in his tone. But then his lips twitched, a ghost of a smile, and he added, “Not that I would’ve believed you.”

You gave a small, breathless laugh, feeling the tension slowly ease out of your body. “I did tell you,” you reminded him. “You just didn’t want to listen.”

His expression softened, and for a moment, the two of you stood there in the quiet aftermath of the battle, the sounds of distant conflict fading into the background. The magic had left its mark on both of you, but there was a new understanding between you now. A shift that neither of you could ignore.

“I didn’t know,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, almost reverent. “But I do now.”

And in the lingering silence, you knew that things had changed. This was no longer just a fight for Feldcroft. Something far deeper had been unleashed—something that neither of you could walk away from.

The goblins' numbers had dwindled, their forces scattering like shadows as the last of their kind fell beneath the weight of your combined spells. The crackling tension in the air began to settle, but the smell of smoke and blood still clung to the village. Your chest heaved with the effort, each breath pulling in the heavy scent of battle as you and Sebastian dispatched the final goblin together.

But before the adrenaline could fully subside, a new danger emerged. In the corner of your eye, you saw her—Anne. She had stepped outside the house, no longer under Solomon's watchful guard. Her knees buckled, and she sank to the ground, weakened and unaware of the goblin charging toward her, its jagged blade raised high.

Sebastian’s body moved before yours could react, his expression darkening with the speed of his choice. His wand snapped out in a motion that was almost instinctive, and with a sharp flick, he cast the spell you never expected him to use.

“Imperio!”

The curse shot from his wand, striking the goblin mere feet from Anne. Time seemed to slow, and in an instant, the goblin’s wild charge halted. Its eyes glazed over, the frenzy of battle drained from its features as Sebastian’s control took hold. The goblin’s hand, still gripping its weapon, trembled slightly as it turned, locking eyes with Sebastian. There was no sound, no words spoken aloud, but you could feel the silent command pass between them like a whisper in the air.

The goblin raised the blade to its own throat.

And with a sickening, fluid motion, it dragged the weapon across its neck. Blood sprayed the ground as the goblin collapsed, lifeless, at Anne’s feet.

For a long moment, the village fell into an eerie silence. The only sound was the soft gasp of breath escaping Anne’s lips as she stared at the scene before her, wide-eyed, her face ashen with shock.

Sebastian was panting beside you, his wand still raised, his chest rising and falling with each labored breath. His eyes were wild, filled with equal parts relief and fury. He had saved his sister. But in doing so, he had crossed a line.

You could see it in the way his shoulders hunched slightly, as if the weight of the curse itself had pressed into him. He turned toward Anne, taking a step forward, but before he could reach her, a cold, familiar voice sliced through the tension like a blade.

“Boy, what have you done?”

Solomon’s voice was thick with disbelief, his expression one of horror and anger as he stood in the doorway, his wand clutched tightly in his hand. He had witnessed everything—the curse, the bloodshed, the moment Sebastian had made his choice. His eyes locked onto Sebastian, and there was something bitter in them, something that stung deeper than mere anger.

Sebastian flinched at the sound, spinning to face his uncle, but the defiance was still there in his eyes. His hand tightened around his wand as he faced Solomon, unrepentant.

Sebastian shouted, his voice raw with emotion. “Saved my sister, I—”

“With an Unforgivable Curse!” Solomon's voice boomed, drowning out Sebastian’s protest. His face twisted with a mix of fury and betrayal, his eyes flickering to the blood-soaked goblin on the ground. “From that damned book, no doubt!”

You watched as Solomon’s words hit Sebastian like a physical blow. The mention of the book—Salazar Slytherin's personal book of spells and magic —seemed to pull the air from his lungs. For a brief moment, you saw the boy you had known for so long, the one who was always so sure of himself, crumble under the weight of Solomon’s accusation.

Solomon shook his head, disgust etched into every line of his face. He turned toward Anne, who still sat on the ground, her hands trembling as she stared blankly ahead, clearly in shock from the ordeal. With a gentleness that seemed at odds with the fury radiating from him, Solomon bent down and scooped her into his arms.

Anne didn’t resist. She didn’t say a word. She only looked at Sebastian as if seeing him for the first time, her eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite place. Fear? Sadness? Disappointment? Whatever it was, it cut through the air between them like a knife.

“Your father would be ashamed,” Solomon said bitterly as he straightened, cradling Anne against him. His voice was quiet now, but no less harsh. “You’ve gone too far, Sebastian.”

Sebastian took a step forward, his face pale, his hands trembling. “Solomon, I—”

“Stay away from her.” Solomon’s voice was ice, his eyes burning with an unyielding anger. He looked at Sebastian with such disdain that it made your stomach turn. “From all of us.”

And with that, Solomon turned his back on him, leading Anne back inside the house without another word. The door shut with a dull thud, leaving the two of you standing alone in the fading light of Feldcroft.

Sebastian didn’t move. He stood frozen, staring at the closed door, his face a mask of shock and disbelief. His wand hung limply at his side, and for the first time since the battle had started, you saw the weight of his actions crash down on him all at once.

The silence between you was deafening.

You didn’t know what to say. There was nothing that could fix this—nothing that could take back what had just happened. You watched him, waiting for something, anything. But he just stood there, his chest heaving, his eyes fixed on the house where his sister and uncle had disappeared.

When he finally spoke, his voice was barely a whisper. “I had to.”

There was no conviction in his words. No fire. Just the raw, unfiltered pain of someone who had believed, truly believed, that they were doing the right thing—only to be cast out for it.

You stepped closer, placing a hand on his arm, hoping to ground him in the present. “Sebastian…”

But he pulled away, his face twisting into something desperate and broken. “I had to,” he repeated, as if trying to convince himself more than you. His voice cracked, and for the first time, he looked at you—not with the stubborn defiance you had come to expect, but with the hollow, haunted look of someone who had lost everything.

You stood there, watching Sebastian as the last light of day slipped beneath the horizon, leaving the two of you in a twilight that felt colder than it should have. You opened your mouth to speak, to say something that might reach him, but the words felt clumsy, inadequate. What could you say to someone who had just been cast out by his own family?

“Sebastian…” you began softly, trying to keep your voice calm, steady. You reached out again, tentatively placing your hand on his arm. “You did what you thought was right.”

For a brief moment, you thought you saw a flicker of something in his eyes—regret, pain, maybe even relief. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by that same indignant fire that had been burning in him since the moment Solomon had spoken.

“Don’t,” he snapped, shrugging your hand off his arm as if it burned him. “Don’t try to make this better. You saw what happened.”

“I know,” you replied, trying to keep your voice level. “I was there. But that doesn’t mean—”

“I saved her!” Sebastian interrupted, his voice rising. “I did what I had to. You heard him—he would’ve let that goblin kill her if it meant sticking to his precious rules.”

You could feel the tension building between you, thickening with every word. He was spiraling, his emotions crashing together in a storm that he couldn’t contain. You’d seen this before—the way he lashed out when he felt cornered, when he didn’t know how to deal with the mess of feelings inside him. But this time, it was different. This time, the stakes were higher, and the damage was already done.

“I know you did,” you said, keeping your voice low, trying to pull him back from the edge. “But Imperio, Sebastian? You—”

“What?” he barked, rounding on you, eyes blazing. “You’re going to lecture me now, too? I did what I had to. What was I supposed to do, let her die?”

“No, but—”

“Then don’t,” he snarled, his chest heaving with anger. “Don’t stand there and act like I’m the one who’s done something wrong. I saved her. I saved my sister, and I’d do it again. I don’t care what Solomon thinks.”

His words stung, more than you wanted to admit. You weren’t trying to make him feel worse, but it was like he couldn’t see past the hurt and rage burning inside him. Every attempt you made to comfort him seemed to ricochet back, twisted into something bitter.

“I’m not saying you did the wrong thing,” you said carefully, taking a step toward him. “But you have to—”

“I have to what?” His voice cracked, the emotion pouring out in sharp bursts. “I have to follow their rules? Their pathetic rules that don’t protect anyone? Look where that got us!”

“Sebastian, I’m trying to help you—”

“Well, don’t!” he shouted, cutting you off again. His face was flushed now, the anger radiating from him in waves. “I don’t need your help. I don’t need anyone’s help.”

The words hit harder than you expected, and you felt a sharp pang in your chest. It wasn’t true. You knew it wasn’t true. But right now, Sebastian was too blinded by his own pain to see anything else.

“You’re not thinking straight,” you said, your own frustration starting to seep into your voice. “You’re upset, and I get that, but—”

“Of course I’m upset!” he shouted, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “My uncle just threw me out of my own family, in front of my sister, for saving her life!”

You stepped closer, trying to close the gap between you. “But I’m here, Sebastian. I’m with you. You don’t have to deal with this alone.”

His face twisted, a mix of frustration and something raw, something vulnerable that he was trying to hide. He turned away from you, his hand running through his hair, gripping at the strands as if he could pull himself back together.

“I need space,” he muttered, his voice low and strained. “I can’t… I can’t do this right now.”

The words caught you off guard. You’d been so focused on getting through to him, on making him see reason, that you hadn’t expected him to pull away like this.

“Sebastian—”

“I need space,” he repeated, more forcefully this time. He finally turned to face you again, his eyes dark, filled with the same turmoil you’d seen in him since the skirmish started. “I can’t… I just can’t deal with this. Not with you, not with anyone.”

The finality in his voice struck deep, and before you could respond, before you could even process what he was saying, he had already pulled away from you entirely.

He took a step back, his wand raised slightly. “I need time to think.”

And then, with a sharp twist, he Disapparated, the familiar crack echoing through the village, leaving you alone in the quiet devastation of Feldcroft.

The moment Sebastian vanished, the quiet in Feldcroft became unbearable. The weight of his words, the tension that had crackled between you—it all lingered in the air, settling into your bones like the cold creeping through the evening mist. The village around you felt distant now, the battle's aftermath fading into the background as your mind raced.

You glanced toward the sky, feeling the familiar tug of your broom at your side, and without hesitation, you mounted it, kicking off the ground and soaring into the air. The wind whipped through your hair, the cold bite of the evening air sharp against your skin, but it did little to clear your thoughts. Each beat of your broom’s ascent felt heavy, your heart still pounding from the argument that had just unfolded.

He needs space. That was the last thing he’d said, his voice raw and defensive. He couldn’t even look at you when he said it. But the way he’d stormed off, the fire in his eyes—it wasn’t just anger at Solomon, or the situation. It was directed at you too. That’s what hurt the most.

You flew faster, the familiar outline of Hogwarts in the distance growing closer, but the rush of wind and speed wasn’t enough to quiet the storm in your mind.

Why didn’t he listen? you thought, replaying the conversation in your head, again and again. Every word felt like a puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit. You had been trying to help him—trying to make him see that he wasn’t alone in this. But he couldn’t hear you. Or maybe he didn’t want to.

Your hands tightened on the broom handle as the memory of his voice, sharp and bitter, echoed in your mind. “I don’t need your help. I don’t need anyone’s help.” The way he said it—it felt like he was pushing you away on purpose. But why? Was it just the heat of the moment, or was there something deeper?

The wind howled in your ears as you banked sharply to the left, circling over the Forbidden Forest. The trees blurred beneath you, but your mind stayed locked on him. Sebastian had always been stubborn. He’d always acted out when things didn’t go his way. But this… this was different. There had been a darkness in his eyes back there, something you hadn’t seen before. Something that unsettled you.

He’s not thinking clearly, you told yourself, trying to make sense of it all. He’s hurt. He’s scared for Anne. That’s why he lashed out. But even as you thought it, doubt crept in. The look on his face, the way he had recoiled from you when you tried to comfort him—it was more than just fear or anger. It was something deeper, something that felt like betrayal.

You flew faster, pushing your broom harder, the wind stinging your eyes as Hogwarts loomed closer on the horizon. The castle, usually a comforting sight, felt distant now, its towering spires indifferent to the turmoil brewing inside you.

You couldn’t stop the questions from flooding your mind. What if I pushed him too far? What if trying to help only made things worse? You replayed the moment he pulled away, the way his voice cracked when he said he needed space. What if that space turned into something more? What if he didn’t come back? What if, in trying to help him, you’d only driven him further away?

The thought chilled you more than the wind cutting through the air.

You were nearing the castle grounds now, the familiar stone walls and sprawling courtyards coming into view. The students milling about below were oblivious to the chaos you’d just left behind, to the storm raging inside your mind. The last of the daylight faded, and the lanterns along the grounds flickered to life, casting a warm glow over the cobblestone paths.

But you didn’t land.

Instead, you hovered above the grounds, circling aimlessly, unable to bring yourself back down to reality. You needed to calm down, to think clearly. But the more you tried, the harder it became to silence the thoughts spiraling through your head.

Was this all your fault? You had tried to make him see reason, to stop him from slipping further down the path he’d been walking ever since he found that cursed book. But had you pushed too hard? Was there something else you should have said? Something else you could have done?

You shook your head, frustrated with yourself. He’s the one who cast Imperio, you reminded yourself. He’s the one who made the choice. But the justification felt hollow. You had known Sebastian for years. You knew the weight of his choices, how he carried every decision like a burden. And now, after what happened with Solomon, that burden had only grown heavier.

The cold wind brushed against your face, bringing a shiver as your broom slowed, drifting above the castle’s silhouette. You sighed, the weight of it all pressing down on you as your mind raced with possibilities.

Maybe he needed space. Maybe he just needed time to come to terms with everything that had happened. But there was a part of you—an ever-growing part—that feared he wouldn’t come back. That the darkness you’d seen in his eyes tonight had taken root, and no amount of space or time would pull him back from it.

You lingered in the air for a long moment, staring down at the familiar grounds of Hogwarts below, where everything seemed so normal, so untouched by the chaos that had unfolded in Feldcroft.

The weekend had stretched out in front of you like an endless expanse of silence. You hadn’t seen Sebastian since he Disapparated from Feldcroft, and though you’d spent those two days trying to focus on anything else, your thoughts kept returning to him. Each moment alone was a reminder of the unresolved tension hanging between you, like a string pulled too taut, threatening to snap.

Monday morning came, and with it, the cold clarity of routine. You entered the Potions classroom with a knot of nerves coiled tight in your stomach, trying to steel yourself for what was bound to be an awkward day. The moment you crossed the threshold, your eyes instinctively sought him out, and there he was—Sebastian, sitting beside Ominis near the back of the room.

They were quiet, both of them. Ominis had that usual calm presence about him, but there was something different in the air today. The easy banter between them was missing, replaced by a muted stillness. Sebastian hadn’t said a word since you walked in, though you could feel the weight of his presence like a shadow in the room.

You chose a seat farther from them than usual, trying to give him the space he’d asked for. It felt unnatural, the distance between you, but you respected his need for it. Every part of you wanted to bridge that gap, to reach out and talk to him—to fix things—but the memory of his voice, sharp and defensive, echoed in your mind.

I need space.

So, you gave it to him. You sat through the first half of the class in silence, your attention only half on Professor Sharp’s lecture. Occasionally, your gaze would flick toward him, but he never once looked your way. He and Ominis exchanged a few quiet words, but otherwise, the two of them seemed almost as isolated as you felt.

Your mind wandered to Feldcroft, to the skirmish, to the way Sebastian had looked at you after Solomon’s outburst. His face had been so full of conflicting emotions—anger, fear, hurt. You wondered if any of those feelings still lingered. Or if he had simply shut them all away, the way he sometimes did when the weight of everything became too much.

Professor Sharp’s voice droned on in the background as you absently twirled your quill between your fingers, your thoughts far from the classroom. It wasn’t until a sudden jolt of motion beside you that your focus snapped back to the present.

A cauldron at the front of the class had begun to bubble over, its contents spilling out in a cascade of thick, green smoke. Professor Sharp muttered something under his breath, trying to contain the mess, but the fumes had already started to spread through the room, filling the air with a strange, acrid scent. Students began to shift uneasily in their seats, some coughing, others pulling their robes tighter around themselves to shield from the stench.

You grabbed your wand, instinctively readying yourself to cast a charm to clear the smoke, when a sharp tug of laughter reached your ears.

It was Sebastian.

He was laughing, quietly at first, but the sound grew louder as the chaos in the classroom unfolded. You looked over at him, and for the first time all day, you saw a flicker of something familiar in his eyes—amusement. Ominis had a bemused smile on his face too, though he remained much more composed.

Professor Sharp was too preoccupied with the cauldron to notice, but you couldn’t help it. You chuckled, the tension in your chest easing just slightly. It was ridiculous, really, the scene in front of you. A class full of advanced students, and here you all were, helpless against a puff of noxious fumes.

Sebastian must have caught the sound of your laughter, because his gaze flickered toward you, just for a moment. Your eyes met across the room, and there was something in his expression—something softer, less guarded than it had been all morning.

He gave a small, almost imperceptible shake of his head, as if to say, Can you believe this?

The gesture was simple, but it was enough to crack the ice that had settled between you. The knot in your stomach loosened, and for the first time since the fight, you felt like you could breathe again.

Professor Sharp finally managed to clear the smoke, waving his wand with a flourish that was a bit too dramatic for the situation. The class settled down, students murmuring amongst themselves as they tried to recover from the brief interruption.

You caught Sebastian’s eye again, and this time, there was no tension in his gaze—just the slightest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. It wasn’t much, but it was something. It was a start.

Ominis, ever perceptive, leaned toward Sebastian and muttered something under his breath, and though you couldn’t hear what he said, you saw the way Sebastian’s lips twitched in response, the way his shoulders relaxed ever so slightly.

You didn’t speak for the rest of the class, but the silence between you felt different now. Less heavy, less strained. There was still so much unresolved, so much left unsaid, but that moment—the shared laughter, the glance across the room—it was enough to remind you that not everything between you was broken.

When the class finally ended, students began filing out, chattering amongst themselves as they headed to their next lessons. You lingered for a moment, gathering your things slowly, not wanting to rush off just yet.

Sebastian and Ominis stood by the door, talking quietly. Ominis gave Sebastian a gentle nudge, and though you couldn’t be sure, it looked like he was encouraging him. And then, before you could fully register what was happening, Sebastian’s gaze found yours again.

This time, he didn’t look away.

He nodded, a small, almost tentative gesture, but it was enough to make your heart skip a beat. You nodded back, the corners of your mouth lifting in a tentative smile.

It wasn’t much. But it was enough to give you hope.

The evening was quiet, the soft hum of the common room fading as students retreated to their dormitories for the night. The day had been long, and though your body ached for rest, your mind was still too restless to surrender to sleep. You lay in bed, the faint glow of moonlight filtering through the window, casting silver streaks across the room. The events of the day played in your head on a loop, but none of it felt settled. The space between you and Sebastian, though cracked, still felt like it hung in a delicate balance.

Just as your thoughts began to spiral again, a gentle tap at the window broke through the stillness. You sat up, recognizing the familiar silhouette of Sebastian’s owl, Brescia. Her dark feathers gleamed in the moonlight as she pressed her beak to the glass, an unmistakable glint of impatience in her eyes.

You hurried over to let her in, heart already quickening. With a soft flutter, she landed on your desk, a letter tied to her leg. Her gaze followed your movements with a knowing look, as if she was privy to all the unsaid words between you and Sebastian.

With a slight smirk, you untied the letter, your fingers brushing against the parchment as you unfolded it. His handwriting, sharp and deliberate, sprawled across the page:

---

I suppose you’re still fuming at me for Disapparating like that? Or maybe you’re grateful I saved you the trouble of lecturing me any further?

Anyway, I’ll spare you a thousand apologies, as I’m sure you’ve already rehearsed a list of reasons I’m an idiot. You’re not wrong, of course. But if you’re keeping count, I did technically save the day… in my own way.

Don’t give me that look—I know you’re reading this with a sigh.

I won’t pretend to have everything figured out, and yes, I’ve made a mess of things. But you already knew that about me, didn’t you?

Rest easy, yeah? You’ll need your energy if you plan on scolding me more tomorrow.

— S.S.

---

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his cheeky tone, though the corners of your mouth lifted in a smile. There was a warmth in his words, a familiar playfulness that felt like the Sebastian you knew—sharp but softened, still the same boy beneath the layers of pride and defensiveness.

Grabbing a quill and parchment, you leaned over your desk, quickly scribbling a response:

---

Fuming? Perhaps just a little. I’d say you have a flair for dramatic exits.

But you’re right—you are an idiot. I’ve known that for a while. And just so we’re clear, you saving the day doesn’t absolve you from everything else. So, no, don’t think you’re getting away that easily.

But I suppose you’re lucky I find your cheekiness tolerable. Maybe even charming…

Sleep well, Sallow. Try not to get into any more trouble before the morning.

---

You attached the note to Brescia, who gave you a brief but knowing look before taking off through the window again. You didn’t have to wait long. Within minutes, you heard the familiar flutter of wings outside, and sure enough, Brescia returned, another letter in tow.

Unfolding the parchment, you immediately recognized the shift in his tone:

---

Charming, am I? I’ll take that as a victory.

Though, if you ask me, you’re the one who's dangerously charming. Do you have any idea how distracting it is trying to concentrate with you around?

I suppose I’ll have to find a way to get through the day despite it.

But since we’re being honest…

Wouldn’t mind a distraction right now.

Yours,

— S.S.

---

You felt a warmth rise in your chest, the playfulness of his words blending with something more. The tension that had weighed heavily between you seemed to shift, lightening with each exchange. It felt like a dance, a back-and-forth that was so familiar yet laced with new, unspoken feelings.

You grinned, grabbing your quill again:

---

Distracting? I’d say that’s mutual. It’s almost unfair, really.

And I’m certain you’ve mastered the art of being a distraction yourself.

But don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll find ways to make it through the day.

As for right now… well, I could say the same about distractions. But it’s late, and you’ll have to survive without me for one night.

Try not to get too restless, Sallow.

---

You sent Brescia off again, your heart racing slightly as you settled back against your pillows. The dormitory was quiet now, the soft sounds of your fellow students sleeping filling the air, but your mind was far from calm.

Another few minutes passed before Brescia returned, her claws tapping lightly on the desk. The final letter was slightly longer, the ink on the parchment bolder, as if he’d written it with more intent:

---

You’re making this difficult, you know. But I suppose that’s only fair.

Anyway, I’ve been thinking…

How about we put these distractions to good use? Meet me in the library tomorrow night for some studying. I promise to behave. Mostly.

And who knows, maybe you’ll find it more productive than you expect.

See you there?

— S. S. 

---

Your heart skipped a beat as you read the last line. It wasn’t just the idea of studying—it was the way he asked, the unspoken invitation to put aside the tension and be together again. A subtle olive branch, wrapped in flirtation but carrying something deeper. Something that felt like a step forward.

You quickly penned your response, a smile tugging at your lips as you wrote:

---

Studying? Are you sure you can handle that kind of focus around me?

But fine. I’ll meet you in the library.

Just don’t expect me to go easy on you, Sallow.

Yours,

---

Brescia took off for the final time that night, disappearing into the dark sky, and you finally allowed yourself to relax. You lay back in bed, the warmth of his words still lingering in your mind, a mix of excitement and anticipation blooming in your chest.

Tomorrow would bring its own challenges, but for now, there was hope. And perhaps something more waiting for you in the library tomorrow night.

***

Another long one! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. As usual, requests are open. Happy month of October!!

[dirty-dirty-muggle]

Where are all the deep Hermione character analysis posts and essays at? Have I come to Tumblr too late and they’ve been lost to time? Do they not exist? Where are they? Am I not looking in the right spots?

My feed is full of Snape analysis (and I get why and do love those posts so don’t stop) but where’s the love for my girl?

She has so many complexities too and we know relatively little about her compared to Harry or Ron out of the trio. She’s a people pleaser and anxious and insecure. She’s vindictive and violent and jealous. She’s internalized misogyny and struggles to make female friends. She got ripped out of everything she knew and sent to a boarding school where she’s an outcast. She gets bullied. She erased herself from her parents’ memories. She’s hyper-intelligent and a giant nerd. She’s stubborn. She has passion for justice but makes so many mistakes because of her closed mindedness. Harry definitely would have failed without her. There is so much to examine with Hermione’s character both on her own and in the context of the story, and I just want to read about it.