#demigod hermione granger au | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mfingenius · 6 years ago

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Oh, oh! Demigod AU? c:

“Honestly, I don’t know how anyone stands him.” Harry rolls his eyes, glaring lightly at the blonde lying on the sand with Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson, children of Nike and Nemesis respectively.

There are at least four dozen students fawning over him, practically drooling. It had been bad enough at school, with all demigods mixed together, but they just had to take an end-of-year trip to California!

Harry hates it.

“Not that I disagree with you or anything, mate, but you’ve to admit, the git is bloody gorgeous.” Ron says. He’s nibbling at a chocolate bar, also staring at Draco Malfoy. “I hate him, and he’s a prat, but…”

He waves a hand in the general direction of the blond.

“No but!” Harry says. “That’s it! I hate him, and he’s a prat!”

Hermione rolls her eyes, not looking up from the book she’s reading. “Honestly, Harry, just ask him out already, will you?”

“What?” Harry practically screeches. “I don’t want to ask him out!”

Hermione rolls her eyes again, this time more dramatically.

“Alright,” she says agreeably. “So you don’t mind if Theodore Nott asks him out, then?”

“What?” Harry asks, eyes narrowing. “Nott? He’s a child of Hebe!”

“Yes,” Hermione agrees. “And so possesses near eternal youth. I’m sure no child of Aphrodite, especially Draco Malfoy, will see any sort of appeal in that.”

Harry scoffs and crosses his arms sullenly, trying to hide his probably visible jealousy.

“Anyway, Nott isn’t going to ask Malfoy out.” Harry rolls his eyes. “He’s too smart for that.”

“Not what I heard from Parvati,” Ron says, shrugging one shoulder. “She says him and Malfoy have been shagging like bunnies in the Aphrodite dorms for months and apparently Nott wants to make it a relationship-”

“Alright, alright!” Harry huffs angrily. He stands up, and marches over to where Malfoy, Zabini, and Parkinson are lying down. He stands in front of Malfoy, and the blond takes his sunglasses off, cocking an eyebrow at Harry.

“You’re blocking the sunlight, Potter.” He drawls, bored. “I assume your limited, Poseidon-parented brain can’t understand the concept of ‘tanning’ but one generally needs sunlight to accomplish it.”

Harry’s fists tighten angrily, and he rolls his eyes.

“Gods, you’re such a prat.” He says. “We need to talk.”

“So talk,” Malfoy says, putting his shades back on. “But move out of the way.”

“Alone.” Harry says pointedly.

“Anything you want to say to him you can say to us, Potter,” Zabini drawls from beside Malfoy. “Or are you scared?”

Thanks to his parenting, Zabini is the most competitive person Harry knows - and that’s saying something, considering he knows Hermione Granger - and Harry usually rises up to the challenge. Not today, though. He has more important things to do.

“Fuck off, Zabini.” He says. “Malfoy, alone.”

Malfoy sighs dramatically, but he stands up and lets Harry drag him to the only private place he can see - a spot just behind a painted wall.

“So, Potter, what-” Draco begins, before Harry wraps his arms around his waist and pulls him in for a rough kiss.

Draco wraps his arms around his neck and moans happily.

“Nott?” Harry asks, pulling his boyfriend tighter against him. “You told Parvati it was Nott you were shagging?”

Draco laughs breathily, the sound turning into a contented hum when Harry kisses his jaw.

“They were asking questions, and you weren’t the one that had to answer them! I had to improvise.”

“This wouldn’t even be a bloody problem if we’d just tell them we’re dating already,” Harry says, pulling away just enough to look at Draco’s face.

He’s gorgeous, with his sharp features and white-blonde hair. He’s smart, and kind when he thinks no one’s looking, and Harry loves him so much he doesn’t know how he ever got so lucky.

“You know I’m on board with that.” Draco says softly. “You were the one who wanted to keep this private.”

“I know,” Harry says. “I know. I’m sorry. I’m tired of hiding this from everyone. I love you, Draco Malfoy, and that’s not going to change anytime soon.”

Draco’s eyes widen, and Harry hopes he hasn’t done the wrong thing by telling him; it’s the first time either of them has said it, but even if Draco doesn’t respond, Harry knows it’s true; he loves him, and not just for now. Forever.

“Say it back you bloody moron!” Hermione yells, and when Draco and Harry peek behind the wall, all of their friends are standing there.

“We’ve known!” Zabini says. “For ages! We were waiting for you bastards to tell us!”

Harry can see his boyfriend turning steadily redder, and he tries for a sheepish smirk.

“So, err. We’re dating?” He says.

“Yes, we got that!” Parkinson rolls her eyes. “Continue!”

Harry frowns, but Draco grabs his neck, pulls him in for a filthy kiss.

While their friends cheer and whistle, Harry pulls his boyfriend as close as he can.

“I love you, too, Harry Potter.” Draco smiles against Harry’s lips. “More than I ever thought I could.”

Harry doesn’t think he’s ever going to stop smiling after this.

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cruelafterglow · 7 years ago

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dramione camp halfblood au

pairing: DracoHermionesetting: camp half-blood auwc: 4435notes: written for an anon on tumblr. Hope you will like it. also on ff.net

Draco Malfoyis the son of a stranger with great power. He is the son of justice, of balanceand of revenge.

Since he’sa baby, he’s thirsty with belonging somewhere, with earning a place, his place.

A placesomewhere else than in his manor on Cobble Hill with his mom, blond and richand craving for satin dresses and hearing her own name again and again.

HermioneGranger is the daughter of Athena (she knows it. She’s intelligent and restlessand wise and determinate and –

Most of thetime, she is just lonely but she doesn’t tell.)

The rest ishistory, you will tell but if we must be honest, we’ll tell that all there’sleft is ruins and embers.

i. I’m still alone in my mind

HermioneGranger is so proud of her dad. He’s an eminent dentist and he is so wise thatshe can barely compete with him but she tries because it’s what she does, it’swho she is. She hits a brick wall on a good challenge, on a hard enigma. No onelooks at the bruises, no one looks at the scratches that it left.

Buteveryone keeps their gazes on her big tooth and her fuzzy hair, on her bigbrain.

She’s a brainy, they tell. They don’t ever bother to whisper.Oh yes, she thinks.

She hugsher dad, every night before climbing to bed, she thanks him for the pile of bedon her nightstand even if she has some difficulties to focus. Doctors have saidit’s ADHD, nothing she cannot deal with, right? Nothing she cannot overcome?

Oh yes, but I am so much more.

She’s thedaughter of a giant (her father is tall. Like very tall.) and of a goddess (shehas looked for her in books at the public library.). Her father has told herwhen she was something like six years old. She was not scared, she was not sad,not even when it was Mother’s Day and that she was left with a card and no oneto whom give it.

She was resilientand the blood in her veins was red and gold. Older, she learnt to cursecautiously: she was a fucking miracle

Now she’sjust lost with visions at night and monsters tracking her smell and her legacyat day.

“What can Ido?” asks her dad, after work hours. He keeps his glasses on his nose and hetakes off his surgical gloves. They are green and the surgery’s lights make himlooks so pale, so thin.

She’s bravefor the both of them. If she could, she would erase his memory makes him leavemonsters and the United States and the memories of a goddess met under theshape of a pretty patient with grey eyes and a collection of pencil skirts.

But it’snot one of her talent. She thinks to ask her mom, briefly, but she’s not a girlwho asks, who begs. She is independent and she doesn’t need to rely on others.

She cannoterase his memory but she’s very good at running. So, she runs, a backpack fullwith books and toothpaste, a brush, clothes and a kitchen knife.

She doesn’tknow where but she will figure it out. She doesn’t know when but she will findout that she cannot keep up with 3 monsters attacks a day longer.

ii. where they don’t know my name

For Draco,it’s easier. He is born with a mother and a manor. He is born with warm embraceand material safety. There is a fire burning in his chest and a bitter taste inhis mouth but he ignores it.

One day, aguy comes and rings at the door. His name is Gregory Goyle and he takes moreafter a billy goat than after a boy with such bad manner. He has a strangetwitch in his knee. Disturbing.

Disturbingis not even an adequate word when he announces to Draco that he must take himto the camp Half-Blood because he is some kind of Greek demigod. This boy, inthe end, is no longer a boy but a satyr.

For Draco,it’s easier. He is born with a mother and a manor. His mother has lied to himabout his dad, saying he was a criminal spending his life in jail forcorruption and misappropriation of funds. That there was no love story but a wrong place wrong time hookup story. Hiswhole freaking life.

Acid burnshis stomach. His father is a god (her mother explains him that she needed tokeep it secret for him, for his protection. The monsters smell knowledge andpower. She doesn’t explicit which one but he has a gut and a fire burninginside of him. The god is hurt, he is fire and revenge.), he watches for thebalance on earth but there is no balance when he has spent his whole childhoodhidden behind walls of lies and marble just to keep away the monsters.

(His motheris the worst of them, he thinks. She cries. He leaves. She has packed up forhim, sweets and chocolate. A photography in glossy paper.)

On the way,Greg becomes his first friend, his first ally. He’s all crooked smile and bighugs. He has none of the sharp angles that shape Draco, and it’s okay.

There isdifferent way to survive. For some of them, it’s kindness.

It doesn’tstop the burning in his stomach or the pression in his eyes holding up thetears, it doesn’t decrease the anger, the rage, the appetite for revenge on aghost life, aching and twisting his fists and his back. But until they will beon the top of the hill, it will be enough.

They don’tknow his name yet, but they will learn.

He looks atall these people who don’t know his name or his burden. There is a chief (thereis always one) except this one is called Remus, has a tired face and brownchocolate hair stripped with gray.

He has afirm but kind voice. He talks about schedule and integration, he talks aboutfriends and about heroes but Draco Malfoy is not used to this kind ofqualifying (he’s a coward, he’s a lone wolf, he’s a villain.)

He hasnever been keen of authority except the one of his mother (when she had powerand love.)

So, hekeeps his mouth shut and his mind blank. He follows his new chief to Hermes’scabin where are the lost and the wanderer.

There is alot of people in there. Small. Nervous. A boy with black hair, messy like if hehad been in a thunderstorm, green eyes and a nerdy pair of glasses. It’s nothis kind of ally. He has a weak smile but a weaker bone structure.

There is ablack guy. Same age. The smile of a prince, the charisma of a young god andeyes dark like death. They shake hands.

“My name’sBlaise. Blaise Zabini.”

“Malfoy.Draco Malfoy.”

“What can Ido for you, Malfoy?”

“Introduceme to the good kind.”

DracoMalfoy doesn’t know how to make friends yet but he knows how do businesspartner and deals.

They leavethe overcrowded bungalow (with his old brown chipped of paint and his too manycampers and hammock and laughs and sounds and – it’s more that he can bear.) indirection of the strawberry fields.

Closing thedoor behind him, he notices a girl. Her skin is lighter than Blaise’s but hereyes are just as intense. There is a strong and powerful curiosity in her gaze.He shuts the door before she could read on his face.

“Who isshe?” he asks to his partner with his usual poker face and a whisper swallowedby the wind.

“This girl?Her name is Hermione Granger. She’s here since a month or two, I think. She washere before me. Unclaimed like us. There’s rumors about her. They say that sheran away from home, fought more monsters than most of us to come here. She’snot really a confident one, not really talkative.

“Yeah, I’vefelt it too. A question, Zabini: unclaimed? What is it?”

“It’s whenyour godly parent hasn’t claimed you yet. Once it is done, you are assigned tohis cabin and you are officially his or her son.” He answers quietly.

It remindsDraco of the birds flying dangerously around his old home. The hours spentwatching them from the window of his bedroom.

Ravens.

“Don’t youknow who he is? Your parent?”

Blaisefreezes but it’s delicate. There are just in front of the strawberry field. Thesweet smell of the juicy fruit comes to Draco and he closes his eyes. Hebreathes. He’s alive and safe and powerful and no one will take it from himbecause he is – A burst of laughter interrupts his meditation.

In thefields, two girls are sitting between the young plants. Shiny hairs, polishednails and nice dresses.

They turntheir heads to him.

Deadlyglares.

“I have myidea” affirms slowly Zabini before greeting his friends. “Malfoy, this isDaphne Greengrass and Pansy Parkinson. Hope you’ll find your place among us.”

It’s nevereasier.

It willnever be.

iii. i never have time

Finally,the gods claim their children one night. It’s all sparks and gasps andsurprises.

Good orbad.

Draco isthe son of a goddess. It makes his world collapse and break and shakes. Hiswhole body is shaking below the sign of the red balance.

He wants toscream, he wants explanation from this mother who was not his. He wants to knowwho is Narcissa Malfoy (certainly not a mom. A mask, a shadow. A liar.)

All thelies pill up on his head, threatening to bury him under their suffocatingweight.

Blaise isthe son of death, Hades like they call him. Draco doesn’t shiver like the restof them do.

HermioneGranger is the daughter of Athena, wise as hell, like a skinny freckled tallboy named Ron Weasley.

The otherboy, the one with the emerald boy and the thunder in the voice, Harry Potterthe legend, is the son of Zeus and it surprises no one.

Draco isgood with learning, memorizing. He knows hierarchy. He knows who has power downhere and who would do crazy things to earn it.

He alignshis behavior with those who could help him. He moves in Nemesis’s cabin, meet astrange boy, Theodore Nott.

“Hello,brother.”

It soundsfake, it sounds swallow.

“We’re notrelated Nott.”

“You’rewrong, kiddo. Except maybe for the blond platinum hair. We can’t at least besure that we have not the same dad.”

DracoMalfoy is secretive so it’s not like he was going to share his family tree withhis stranger came from nowhere, occupying a bed in front of his own, with aspace clearly untidy. The floor is covered up by clothes, gum papers and asword –

A sword.

Dracolearns two things about Theodore Nott: one, his not a big fan of cleaning up,two, he’s dangerous and maybe psycho.

He burieshis head in his pillow but it’s not an efficient barrier to shield him againstNott’s dark laugh.

He sleepslike a rock in spite of his new situation, not knowing who he is, what he is,nor why he is like this but –

DracoMalfoy has listened to Remus when he was describing heroes,

He wantsblood and revenge thus he needs a weapon – He sleeps but it’s never simple todream.

HermioneGranger, on the other side, is as happy as she can be about this new place shecan call home. The blood boiling in her veins, mix of red hemoglobin and goldenichor, she will own it. She has plenty of brother and sisters who likes to playchess (like this redhead with a stomach barely larger than his light. He smellslike sun and he looks like a knight.) or reads books or learns or beingferocious and vivacious and wise and –

Aftermonths of fighting and searching and struggling for a safe place, she is there.She has a clean bed, stimulating conversations, answers. No goals.

The olderones are the most complicated to deal with because they already have done everythingthat she could have thought doing. She has no use, no purpose. She is just alittle girl, head up to heroes.

She is noteven the smarter one anymore. It bugs her but, when night comes, she doesn’tcry. She is focused: she planned her next more, a step ahead in the conquest ofthis new playground.

She hearsabout prophecy and quests. Since this day, there is no second without this goalseeded in her mind. This is why she’s born. She is mean to be a hero. Asalvation.

(Here itis. Heroes are born again under the benevolent smile of the moon and the quietwhispers of gods and titans in their dreams. It’s a whistle of rage and foamingblood but they are just children training with weapons bigger than them, sothey just hear opportunities, future, and treasure. Whatever they are.)

They haveno time for each other. Draco looks at her when she is not aware, her brighteyes when she discovers more and more about Greek gods, about this language whowas like an odd gut for her until she finds the camp. She is a brilliantstrategist; her blade is as sharpened as her mind but she makes him feelssomething very wrong. Something very primal for someone who is called DracoMalfoy and has been raised in lies and marble.

It’s notlove. It’s fear.

She hascrawled in the mud, she has blown up the cage of her own childhood to becomewho she is. There are rumors about her, about how she has reached this heavenafter a journey into hell, blood splashed all over her face, and a broken arm.

She doesnot give up. Never. She has something to prove and Draco – he’s not really acurious kid, just a coward – doesn’t want to have anything to do with it.

He has aweapon now, and he surrounded by powerful and determinate people who willsupport him (to the end of the world.)

He’s justscared that she will cause him trouble. That she will try to stop him, to fighthim, to be competitive.

When helooks at her, her eyes twitching with concentration, the sides of her nosequivering when she succeeds to master a new type of weapons (she’s good withspears. It’s like a wand, like an extension of her own arm come to life.), he’safraid that she will win.

They growup and grow up like trees do. They dig their nutriments and values andresources out this godly soil. They are two vigorous trees but theirs branchesnever touch.

They haveno time, they have to reach the sky.

iv. i know you’re dying to meet me

Hermioneasks for a quest to Remus on her seventeenth birthday.

He says yesbut his face is ravaged by old scars, making creases in his textured skin. Heis so old but he is also kind. She has seen the monsters out there, he has tooand he trains heroes every day because it is the reason he has for waking upevery morning.

But he hashope. No matter the blood on their hands or the monster’s body lying out there,lifeless, he has hope.

Hermione islooking for hope in this quest.

Remus talksabout the necessity to have companions. She said yes, she’s a littledistracted, a little ambitious. She does not care about beginnings and newroots, she’s only here for the end.

She goesfor the quest. She’s sure it will lead her to answers.

She is notfrightened by the smell of the oracle nor by her patchouli-infused threats.It’s an old skeleton with vintage pearl necklace and bracelets, colorful scarfsand too much dust everywhere.

It’s not adanger. Hermione Granger knows the face of danger when she sees it and it’s notin the once-human features of Sibyl Trelawney.

DracoMalfoy, Blaise Zabini and Harry Potter follow her on the forbidden land. Theyfollow her on the burnt land, where the gods are no longer listening.

Theydestroy a city while trying to save it from the monsters. Hermione is wise butshe cannot find a way to stop this building to fall on this young lady, pinkstiletto and bright smile, top bun. The mortal is collapsed under the ruins.

Hermionefreezes and watches it. There is blood on the corpse’s clothes.

She wondersif the gods saw it. She wonders if it is Malfoy’s fault.

Because,apparently, it is always his fault in this quest. It is his fault if the godsare angry (and if Nemesis is angrier.)

It is hisfault if Blaise has raised an army of skeletons to save them from worse thandeath and bones.

It is hisfault if she is still bleeding. (he has not learned how to patch wounds andhe’s not even good to comfort her.)

It isalways his fault because the quest, it was not hers. It was his. They needed tonegotiate something from Nemesis, something precious. A scale. To reestablishthe order of the world or something like that. It was perfect, it was allbruises and burns and challenges. It was a success.

UntilMalfoy made mommy angry and –

This boyhad some serious self-control issues and parental ones and she’s angrier thatshe looks out after him because –

Now, thereis a minor goodness hunting them and cursing them and throwing hell on them.

Thegriffins with their wings and their claws are ripping their bare skins.

While theyare running (sweat covers Blaise’s face and Harry throws lightning bolteverywhere around them. It’s dark. Except the neon signs of obscure and greasyfast-foods the only thing she can see between the flashes is blood. So muchblood.)

The woundson her chest is infected. It’s not ichor, it’s sticky blood and yellowish pus.She keeps her mouth shut and she takes a sip of ambrosia, just a tiny sip – ittastes like home and toothpaste and mint – because they are in a worstsituation.

So muchworse.

Malfoycrawls to her on his elbows. His face is covered in dust, and his lips istinted with carmine blood.

“I’m sorryGranger. I didn’t want this to – “

“No, you’renot.” She answers. Her tongue is sharp and her patience nonexistent. “You’re acoward, Malfoy. You are her son and you wanted revenge. You got it, champion.”

He stayssilent for a while. Harry and Blaise are nowhere close to be found. Even goingto supermarket is a threatening ride yet they are clearly seizing opportunityrather than staying between the two of them. The walking chaos and the bitterwarrior.

It was herquest. It was supposed to be her last trial.

He kissesher, this night. She bites him but he doesn’t taste the difference. He’salready bloody.

She kissesher back and her lips (god, her lips.)

It’sunreal.

v. baby, as soon as you meet me (you’ll wishthat you never did)

It is, infact.

She burstsin laughter, it’s not her laugh. She kisses him but it is not how he has everimagined (not that he has)

Either sheis far more anger than he could thought either she’s not herself. Withoutbreaking the contact between them (he feels her lashes flushing against hisskin, her heartbeat, the dryness of her lips) he takes out his dagger of hisbelt. He’s Narcissa’s son and she has at least taught him that she loved himeven if he did not love himself.

His life isprecious and there is no way he dies kissing a ferocious girl.

Heapproaches the blade to the back of her neck, where the flesh is tender, whereher hair begins to grow, she keeps kissing him and that’s when he knows –

“HermioneGranger is hyper-aware of everything that threatens her life and curiously,even more when it’s me.”

He stabsthe thing in the back without a blink. It still has her face, her dirty stainsof mud or blood on the cheek and her light in the eyes.

He watchesit fade slowly into a glassy last look.

(he hasnever dreamt about her dying, about killing her)

There is noblood on his own hands, just gold. Rivers of it, flowing on his palms.

Then hehears a scream.

She is –Hermione Granger, the true one – behind him. She looks terrified and he caneasily imagine why. He drops the bloody weapon and open his mouth to explainhimself but she doesn’t let him the time.

She’sbetter than him at reunions.

She punchesa goddess – his mother, actually – in the face and she shouts at him

“Don’t youdare kill me again in the back! You, coward!” she turns her head to heropponent, wings growing out of her white dress, black eyes like divine revengeand ichor dropping from her nose. “And you…” she yells at Nemesis “Don’t youdare to toy with him again! You, pathetic mother!”

He’samazed. As are Potter and Blaise, gasping, almost dropping their grocery bags.These guys have a great timing, truly.

“What’shappening?”

“I’vekilled Granger and now she tries to make us more in danger than we used to be.Quite a routine.”

“Nice”comments Blaise laconically.

It was niceindeed.

The fact isthat Nemesis has met his father, a powerful and resentful man, in February.Coldest month to meet a sharp woman, a deadly goddess.

9 monthslater, he was married. 9 months later, he was in jail for fraud letting behindhim a spouse, a huge manor with peacocks and hedges high like ramparts. And ababy.

NarcissaMalfoy called him Draco because his father was a snake and his mother a dragon,but she loved him anyway.

The fact isthat Nemesis does not like competition. She only lives for justice. And she’snot the best mother, just the second one.

She swearsto let them in peace. She doesn’t look at Draco in the eyes but she gives himthe scale without a word.

The goddessdisappears and everything returns to normal: Blaise and his charming smile,Harry, his broken glasses and his messy hair. Everything except Draco.

She goes tosleep, he takes the first turn of guard (just in case.) and the next morning,she finds him sleeping against the grey wall of cement.

She shakeshis shoulder a bit too strong and she makes his name turns to cold then tonothing in her mouth.

He rises onhis feet, quickly. He hasn’t wash the ichor on his shirt or his hands, he hasgolden blood stuck on his face and on his hair.

She doesn’tswipe it. She shakes his hand instead.

“It’s over,Malfoy. The quest is finished. Our collaboration is over.”

“Granger –“

She walksaway and she lets the steam of the public shower chase the image of his handfrozen in the space, like if he was holding on the ghost of her own.

She hasonly five minutes of peace before Blaise knocks on the door to announces thedeparture.

The journeyback is long and quiet. They slide monsters in silence. Harry and Blaise fillthe void with their incessant chatting but in the end, it’s just an annoying backgroundnoise and she just wish she had a book to avoid to stare at Malfoy’s glacialmouthline.

The camp isjust as they’ve left it. Same sickening-sugar strawberry smell. Same orangecotton shirt. Same problems and same wars between cabins. Same books on theshelves in front of her bed, same sticky-gloss written messages on the door ofthe Aphrodite’s.

And DracoMalfoy is more an empty body than a heroic soul.

But she candeal with it. She can deal with the shush and the gossips and the praises, shecan deal with new ranks and admiration glowing in the eyes of new campers.

He shows upon her porch, one morning.

“Granger, Ithink we need to talk.”

“Malfoy, Ithink we do not.”

“You died.”

Oh –

She looksat him, with his platinum hair and his angular face, edges like a broken mirrorreflecting long evenings of memories and nightmares of feathers, claws, andfalling buildings.

She cannotbreathe.

Oh –

She hastried so hard to remember. To fill the blank space. To put herself in thisthing’s place, to imagine her heart slow down and her erratic need for air, forhelp. She has tried so hard.

Sometimes,she forgets that she is not the one who is dead, and neither the one who kissedhim.

Oh –

He waits.His leg twitches. But she cannot move and she cannot take back her wordsbecause it’s over and he has stabbed her in the back, he has kissed her, he haskilled her. But she can’t remember because it was not her and it was her andshe’s not sure that he’s doing a difference and he’s on her porch –

Sometimes,she wants to be the one who kissed him, a night in an abandoned bungalow.

Oh –

He jumps aflight of steps, she grabs him by the collar.

“I don’tlike you Malfoy. You’re not wise enough to be on my side in war.”

“I know.But I’m sure that you don’t want me on the opposing side now that are know whatyour weak points are.”

“Do you?”she asks, the reminiscence of the dagger precisely driven between her twoblades floating between them.

Her chesthurts when she bends over him to grab his chin.

She kisseshim, he tastes like ambrosia and end of the world and regrets.

But hisskin is clean and the sun warms their intertwined bodies.

It’s enoughfor now. Maybe one day, he will be brave enough to forgive to Narcissa, hisfather and Nemesis.

Maybe oneday, she will be soft enough to come back home, to make an appointment at thedentist.

For now,they are just demi-gods, scared of what they have done, searching forexpiation.

#answered #My writing #dramione #Draco Malfoy #Hermione Granger #hp #slytherdornet

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