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misscrawfords · 1 month ago

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Dramione Month 18: Pride and Prejudice

For once, it was quiet in the sitting room at Grimmauld Place. Hermione had taken advantage of the interlude to curl up with an old friend of a book and hope it would distract her from whatever might be going on outside of their safe house.

She had only read a chapter, however, when the peace was shattered as Harry and Malfoy apparated directly in front of her and brushed themselves down, only stopping their bickering when they saw she was there.

“Everything okay?” she queried Harry, studiously ignoring the recent unwelcome addition to the Resistance.

“No change,” he confirmed. “You and Ginny still on for the late shift?”

“Of course.”

“Right.” He hesitated a moment then turned to Malfoy. “You want a drink?”

Malfoy shook his head and collapsed into an armchair, closing his eyes. Harry hovered a moment before shrugging. “Suit yourself, I’m getting coffee.” He left the room.

Hermione gazed at Malfoy a moment to see if he would make any effort to acknowledge her but he did not open his eyes. In fact, he looked exhausted and Hermione bit back a snide comment and picked up her book again.

She read several paragraphs before she was assailed by the prickling feeling of being watched. She lowered the book and saw that Malfoy, still sprawled in the armchair, had opened his eyes a slit and was observing her in a particularly cat-like way.

“What?”

“Pride and Prejudice?” he murmured.

She glanced at the book cover, surprised he had been able to read the title from that distance. “Yes, it’s a novel by-”

“Jane Austen. Yes, I know what Pride and Prejudice is.”

“You do? But she’s a muggle!”

“I’m not a bloody philistine, Granger.”

Hermione blinked. “I’m surprised you know what a philistine is,” she remarked snootily, recovering quickly.

“Careful, too many distressing revelations in one day can be bad for your health.” He pushed himself up into a sitting position and looked at her with more focus.

“Shut up, Malfoy.”

“Pointed, clever, subtle, devastating. You really know how to wound a man.”

She rolled her eyes. “I do, actually.” She turned a page ostentatiously before she had finished it. “So, what do you know about Jane Austen anyway?”

“Is this is a test, Granger? Loathe as I am to suspend any pleasure of yours, I’d rather not.”

Something in his turn of phrase made her frown but she could not place it. “Have you even read any of her novels?”

“All six.”

Hermione looked up. “You’re joking.”

“Not at all. There’s a very charming nineteenth century illustrated wizarding edition at the Manor. I’ve read all of them at least twice.”

She cocked her head at him. “A nineteenth century – illustrated? So the pictures-”

It was his turn to roll his eyes. “Move. Yes, Merlin, Granger, that’s what magical pictures do.”

“Oh.” Hermione had to sit with this. She did not want to wish to go to Malfoy Manor in pursuit of a complete set of magical Jane Austen novels. But she also did not not want to do that. She pursued a different tack. “But why do you have them? I didn’t think you’d read muggle novels.”

Malfoy smiled somewhat wearily. “Perhaps you don’t know me as well as you think you do, Granger. Austen may be a muggle but she’s highly relatable if you were brought up in a pureblood wizarding household. Just replace social class with blood status.”

“So what does that make me, the muggle-born? Some kind of servant?”

“No.” He thought about it while Hermione observed him sceptically, waiting for the insult. “Something middle class. In trade perhaps like the Gardiners. Not as bad as being a muggle but still not really acceptable to my family’s kind.”

There it was.

“Not really acceptable… Good to know. Thanks for that! And what does that make you – Mr. Darcy?” she added with a mocking sneer.

“Something like that,” he replied with a grin, quick as a flash.

“Ugh, you’re repulsive.” She raised the book to block him from view and for a moment she thought it had actually worked until he plucked it right out of her hand and stared down his nose at her.

Hermione opened her mouth but for the second time that evening something about him and the way he was looking at her arrested her.

“That’s what she thought too,” he said when he had fully gained her attention. Then, after holding her gaze a moment longer, he turned away, yawned into his hand and stated that he would have a coffee after all before leaving the room without a backward glance.

Hermione was left disturbed, the foundations of her preconceptions rattled.

#dramione #dramionemonth #dramione fanfic #draco malfoy #hermione granger #draco x hermione #hermione x draco #hp #rose writes #fanfiction #of course I had to write something for this prompt #no it isn't my multichapter crackfic #that remains a dream atm

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thetotomoo · 2 months ago

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Day 18, DHR Month, Books (Week 3): “Pride and Prejudice”

Title: The Deconstruction and Ruination of a Would-Be Gentleman

Word Count: 1,301

Chapters 1/3

Rating: E

Summary:

For all the privileges a gentlewoman has come to afford in the last two centuries, it has become a universal and acknowledged truth that a woman in possession of sense, sensibility, and her own good fortune is not in need of a husband.

CW: Eventual Smut, Wordplay, Fluff and Smut, Fast Burn, Jane Austen inspired, Dramione Month 2024

~~~***~~~

Modern men, Hermione Granger once told him, simply lacked the attributes well suited to the title and breeding of good gentlemen. Men were crass, uncouth, and wholly ignorant of the importance of yearning.

And despite his mannerisms, education, and social graces, Draco Malfoy could hardly consider himself to be a proper gentleman. He had never considered himself modest, kind, or unassuming. He preferred to voice his opinions, show his ire, and never restrain any pride.

Pride was, without a doubt, the worst of Draco’s follies. It had been the reason for many blunders in his youth and the sole reason he was still making amends today. But while he meant to fully acquit himself to the witch who stood at his trial and spoke in his favor, today would not be that day.

No— today, after many hours working side by side at the newly formed Department of Mysteries and being subjected to her list, her opinions, and visions for the new Wizarding World, he simply had enough.

Granger had strolled through the Ministry doors that morning, dressed in an unusual garb bearing Pansy’s new clothing line and wearing the scantest drop of perfume— just enough to intrigue his senses. And when asked as to what occasion she had donned such an outfit for, she simply shrugged and said nothing.

Nothing as she bent over tables to reach for scrolls and books.

Nothing when she would brush past him through the wide stacks.

Nothing when the clock struck, signaling the end of the day and she stood, unfastening the top three buttons of her blouse and fanning herself in the freezing room before she turned on those impossibly high heels and walked away.

He meant to woo her—decided upon it at the end of the first week they began to work together when she reminded him she could still send him stumbling back with just her fist if he dared show any amount of indecency. But he was determined to be a gentleman by offering a proper apology and getting to know her likes and dislikes before bringing small gifts: large vases of flowers, the finest chocolates, and the rarest of books.

Then, after months of bestowing and lavishing attention on her, he would ask her to join him for dinner and whisk her away to a picnic in Rome or an exclusive restaurant in Paris.

Once he had plied her with wine and good food, Draco would politely bring her home, kiss her hand, and bid her good night and sweet dreams.

He would continue this for weeks and months and only ought to consider kissing her once he gained the approval of her friends and family.

He would wait like a good gentleman was expected to do and only take her to bed after they married.

But beneath the pressed suit, gleaming cufflinks, and styled pale blonde coiff, Draco Malfoy was not a gentleman. He was far from it, in fact, when his arms neither carried a meager bouquet nor held a bag of takeaway from Granger’s favorite Muggle restaurant just outside the walls of Diagon Alley.

He knocked insistently at her door, tapping his foot impatiently as he heard her voice sing from the other side.

“Coming!”

Draco’s brows twitched, and he frowned at the insinuation, tamping down the sudden flash of images of skin on skin.

“Malfoy!”

“Granger,” he nodded, leaning against the frame as nonchalantly as he could.

She was still dressed in those bloody clothes, the fabric draped across her shoulders and down her frame down to the tips of her toes (thankfully devoid of those heels). Unthankfully, she had not shucked off her blouse and had kept the three buttons at the top unfastened, giving him a glance at the lace beneath.

“Something the matter?” she asked, and he swore he caught a wisp of a smirk that was beginning to curve on her lips.

Draco was tempted, as he often resigned himself in moments such as this, to brush off her concern with a smirk and continue about his day. But he found himself, hands in his pockets, without so much as a distraction to divert her attention to anything but the need written on his face.

He could feel it— the heat that had risen up his neck to sit on his cheeks, the stiffness of his jaw as he glared longingly at her, and the rapid pulse at his neck as he tempered back a growl.

So, he chose the rather ungentlemanly course instead— honesty.

“You,” he said.

“Me?” She asked, arched brows furrowing as she opened the door further, “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“Tell me, Granger, were you aware how much I’ve struggled today because you chose to indulge the whim and fancy of one of Pansy’s ideas?”

“Struggled? Malfoy, I didn’t… it wasn’t—”

“Wasn’t what, Granger? Meant to cause me agonizing pain?”

“No! Well… yes… but no,” she finished and bit her lip.

“What?”

Hermione sighed and shifted on her feet, “I thought… well, you were moving so slow. Which I admire, mind you. It’s not very often a man shows interest, and even less often they listen to anything I have to say. So, when you didn’t ask last week about the Ministry ball…”

Her voice trailed, and she looked anywhere but him. He stood, swallowing thickly, hands finding their way out of his pockets to grip the frame of her door.

“Granger.”

“Pansy and Ginny… they had this grand idea that I should… and then you would…”

“Granger…”

“Well, I was wrong. And I feel such a fool because you probably—”

“Granger,” he snapped before softening when he caught her gaze, “You aren’t wrong.”

Her lashes fluttered, and then she stared, her shapely lips pouting while she regarded him.

“You’re never wrong.”

“So, you…”

“I like you.”

“You like me?” Hermione asked, stepping forward to search his face for any untruth. But there was none— not when she had effectively reduced him and his plans to dust. He had meant to court her like a proper gentleman should and slowly lay the foundations of his affections at her feet. And yet, here he was, shattered and made undone by the mere sight of her in new clothes.

“Yes, I like you. The insufferable witch that you are. Do you have any idea how torturous the past few months have been around you?” He groaned, “To see you laugh, to hear your voice, and share what joy you found in the pages of those books. I meant to do this, you know… tell you everything.”

“Then tell me, Malfoy,” she whispered before the warmth of her palms cupped his face.

He resisted dropping his hands to her hips and pinning her to him until he was sure he had memorized every dip and curve of her figure.

“I can’t,” he said and added when he saw the drop of her face, “Not if I mean to treat you properly like a good gentleman.”

“Malfoy,” she said, fingers caressing and pulling him to whisper along his lips, “I don’t want proper or gentle.”

What remaining notion of propriety Draco had left, burned and turned to ash when Hermione kissed him. She was not slow or gentle with the tug of her fingers through his hair and press of her body against his. And when she nipped and swept her tongue along Draco’s bottom lip, he shuddered and groaned, finally letting his hands fall to her hips and allow her to pull him through the threshold.

#dramione month #2024: Day 18 - Pride and Prejudice #draco x hermione #dramionemonth #Jane Austen inspired

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kidnthehall · 1 year ago

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#kidntheart #draco malfoy #hermione granger #dramione art #dramione #dramionemonth

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starsin-motion · 1 year ago

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[Aftermath of torture // veela]

For Dramione Month, Day 11 - Creature Bonds.

It was only a horrible dream.

It wasn’t real. Hermione wasn’t in pain, though she was still fatigued, her bed was soft and warm.

But as Hermione slowly opened her eyes, she knew at once this was not her lumpy cot in their tent.

She immediately sat up, frantically looking around.

Standing sitting next to her was a woman reading a small weathered notebook, who quickly realised she’d woken up.

“Hermione,” Fleur began softly, brow punched together in concern. She closed the book before putting it on the bedside table where her wand should’ve been. “Do you remember what happened?”

Hermione blinked. Then panic surged through her. “Where’s Ron? Harry?”

“Outside with Bill,” said Fleur, placing her hands softly on Hermione’s shoulder to keep her from flying out of bed. “They are fine.”

Looking down at Fleur’s hands, she saw it then. Her arm tightly bound with bandages.

It wasn’t a dream.

It was a living nightmare.

“Oh my god,” gasped Hermione, her panic escalating to hysteria. She couldn’t breathe. “No, no, no–“

A thunderous bang from outside cut through her horror, so loud they both flinched. Hermione began to tremble in her grasp.

“Here.” Fleur uncapped a pale blue potion from the bedside table, and forced it down her throat in a few quick motions. Peppermint oil–it was a calming potion.

The effect was nearly instantaneous. Her heartbeat slowed, and she was able to take a shaky deep breath.

But the loud banging outside continued with an increasing pace.

“Draco Malfoy has been waiting outside the wards.”

——

The wings on his back tore through his clothing, and the remaining fabric hung off him in pieces. It was as though he didn’t care, or maybe he didn’t even notice. His feathers were a deep grey; so dark that on the cloudy, cold shore near Shell Cottage, they nearly looked black.

His face was more angular than she remembered, more closely resembling the Veela she’d seen during the World Cup than the boy she knew in school. He still looked gaunt as he did before, but there was beauty where she didn’t expect it.

He looked like an angel thrown from Heaven.

His eyes tracked her every moment as if he could see through the wards that should have concealed her. As if there were none between them.

He paid no mind to the others around her.

“What do we do with this overgrown chicken? He keeps throwing himself at the wards.”

“He is not a chicken,” Fleur snapped at Ron. “He is a Veela.”

“Whatever he is, he could bring Lo–“ Harry nearly choked on the name. Clearly frustrated, he spit out, “You-know-who here.”

Hermione gulped. “How did he find us?”

Malfoy tilted his head slightly. The three looked to Bill and Fleur for an answer, but Bill hesitated. Fleur squeezed his hand, and looked to Hermione with what could only be pity.

“A Veela will become hostile in situations where their–“ Fleur hesitated just as Bill had, “–their mate is in danger. They do all they can to ensure their mates safety.”

With the help of the earlier calming potion, she did not flinch as Ron and Harry did.

“Veela know where their mate is at all times, it is instinct,” Fleur continued through the tense silence. “But they would never hurt you. He won’t bring you-know-who here.”

“Not intentionally,” Bill added. “But it could happen if the Dark Lord finds out what’s happened.”

Hermione moved closer to the low humming wards, the Fidelius charm tied to Bill’s soul that should’ve concealed her did nothing to keep Malfoy from knowing she was in front of him.

“Leave,” Hermione commanded sharply. “Don’t come back here.”

Malfoy recoiled, but he still made no move to leave.

Hermione huffed. “I am safe here. Leave.”

The sudden stretch of his wingspan startled the group. Her mate turned away from her, his wings picking up the wind from the nearby coast, and took off.

//fin.

#dramione #dramione month #dramionemonth #draco malfoy x hermione granger #dhrmonth #dhr fandom #dhr fic

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dracosbeeech · 1 year ago

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Please tell me people are actually going to participate in dramione month because I desperately need some new material. Twitter has been so dead and I miss the interactions with the fandom.

#dramione #dhrmonth #dramionemonth

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sophiesstreet · 2 months ago

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#dramionemonth Day 12: Fake Dating

“May I have this dance Granger”

There isn’t anyone around we don’t have to..”

“I want to”

Fake dating sureee definitely not in love that would be ridiculous!!

Also this was based off a painting I saw in my doctors office by Brent lynch!

#dramione #dramione fanart #draco x hermione #dramione ship #hermione x draco #draco malfoy #dramione fanfic #hermione granger #dramione month

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serpent-sortia-ao3 · 2 months ago

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Day 10: Idiots in Love 💕 #DramioneMonth

After spending hourssss on the last one I wanted to try and get something done quicker. Simpler and no faces saves a lot of time. Hope you like it!

#draco lucius malfoy #hermione granger #dramione month #dramione #dramione fanart

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tippilo · 2 months ago

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Another drabble for #dramionemonth (run by @dhrmonth)

This is another ACTUAL dramione!

#fanfic #hp #hermione granger #harry potter #draco malfoy x hermione granger #draco malfoy #dramione #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy fanart #dramione fanfiction

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dhrmonth · 4 months ago

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Presenting the 2024 #DramioneMonth Calendar!

We are so excited to present the #DramioneMonth Daily Prompt Calendar for September 2024! Thank you to everyone who voted for these prompts!

We cannot wait to see what the works you'll create this year!

*Day 8 - Contract Marriage is also 'Marriage of Convenience'

*Day 27 - Quidditch Player can also be Soccer/Football Player

#dramione #dramione art #dramione fanart #dramione fanfic #dramione fanfiction #hermione granger #draco malfoy #dramione month #draco x hermione #hermione x draco #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fests #harry potter #hpevents #dramionemonth

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chronophobique · 2 months ago

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“If you want to take this child, you’ll have to go through me first.”

Drawn for Day 9: Secret child/baby of #DramioneMonth

Featuring an amnesic Hermione who has no idea she’s actually holding her daughter*.

*Daughter who’s never met her mother and is so frightened she picked up the nearest twig to fight like the adults around her.

#hermione granger #hermione granger fanart #dramione #dramione’s child #harry potter #digital art #myart

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sailtomarina · 1 year ago

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The Artist's Daughter

She was here again.

Draco Lucius Malfoy, First and Only Prince to the kingdom, stayed hidden in the stacks next to a row of tomes dictating the genealogies of the royal families dating back hundreds of years. He had his private tutor to thank for the tiresome task of locating the volume listing the exact ancestor Draco had failed to name correctly in his latest exam. The other day, he’d been here searching for a text that would answer which crops their kingdom specialized in for exports. Ridiculous, really. As if he wouldn’t some day have advisors to do all this research for him.

Then, just like today, he’d seen a girl wandering through the shelves. She hadn’t noticed him, of course. Draco was far too sneaky to be detected by some muggle, which she had to be given her unaware musings as she walked around with her nose buried in a book.

The first time, he’d remained hidden, even going so far as to cast a disillusionment spell on himself. As surprised as he was to see a stranger, he supposed that if they were to wander any of the handful of libraries in the castle, this was the most appropriate one. It was situated on the ground floor not too far from the entrance and ballroom. This is where most of the muggle texts were organized, along with an unfortunate number of historical texts currently pertinent to Draco’s education.

She’d struck him as pretty, albeit in a muggle sort of way. She’d worn a simple lady’s gown in a pale yellow that contrasted with the rich dark curls tumbling down her back. Freckles sprinkled generously across her pale skin, markings his cousins would have glamoured over from birth. If he guessed correctly, they weren’t too far apart in age, perhaps fourteen or fifteen. That was another indicator of her humble breeding—he didn’t recognize her, not from school or from the countless balls and feasts he’d attended growing up. She couldn’t be a noble.

Today, she wore a dress in a lovely sage green with tiny white flowers embroidered along the scoop neckline. Draco imagined her eyes to match the green, or to perhaps blink at him in a hazel hue. He needed to know.

“Who are you?” His voice came out much harsher than intended.

He’d stepped out in front of her just as she was about to pass, causing her to come to an abrupt stop before crashing into him. Startled eyes, irises dark brown and glinting with a hint of gold, gazed up at him. He’d been wrong about the colors.

“Oh! I didn’t see you there. I’m Hermione Granger. And you are?” She stepped back to an appropriate distance from him, hugging a few books to her chest like armor.

“I’m Draco,” he said simply.

“The prince?” She didn’t sound too surprised, and eyed his unmistakable platinum hair.

“The very same. Why are you here in the library?” He’d finally tempered his tone to a more congenial one.

“I was told I could read whatever I liked in here. My father is painting your Grand Ballroom.”

Ah. She was the daughter of the painter.

His mother made it a point to elect a new project as soon as the previous one was complete. Previous years had resulted in a reworked Imperial Garden, which boasted rose gardens with every imaginable variety, both magical and non-magical. A formidable greenhouse was added shortly after, and the caretaker they’d employed soon obtained and cultivated the rarest of specimens for use in medicine and potions.

This year, Queen Narcissa turned her attention to the Grand Ballroom. She and his father adored hosting balls at every opportunity. What better way to display their love for art and beauty than to paint the entire ceiling and all its walls with depictions of magical beasts and figures from history. Circe. Merlin. Rasputin. Titania and Oberon.

Draco had assumed they’d hire a wizard, but he should have known that when it came to art, the king and queen saw no difference between magic or not. They simply wanted the best, and if that happened to be stationary art, then so be it.

“Find anything interesting?” He feigned interest, intent on keeping her talking. She was far more entertaining than pouring over volumes of ancestors alone.

She perked up at his question, and Draco could have sworn sections of her hair floated for just a brief moment.

Certainly not.

“I did! Did you know your castle is situated on top of the most powerful spot in the kingdom? All of the most prominent ley lines converge here underneath our feet!” She stomped one foot in emphasis. He wouldn’t be surprised if she went through several slippers a season if she always beat on them in that manner.

Wait.

Did she say “ley lines”?

“Are you a witch?” he blurted out, once again wincing at the gracelessness of his question. His mother would be mortified if she could hear him.

Hermione looked at him as if he was stupid. “Yes. Why else would your family let me wander around here by myself?”

“I don’t know, maybe because this is the one library of many where muggles are allowed? They do come here occasionally, muggle nobles, to garner favor with us,” he sputtered. He still couldn’t quite believe it. She was a witch. She was an unknown witch of his age. “Why don’t I know you? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before.”

“My parents are muggles. I might have a squib ancestor somewhere, but as far as we know, I’m the only magic user in the Granger family. They sent me abroad for schooling since Hogwarts doesn’t currently accept muggle-borns.” She raised her eyebrows as if challenging him, but Draco couldn’t find it within himself to care about her background.

Hermione didn’t fawn on him like the other girls who had paraded themselves around him at school. She didn’t bat her eyelashes or titter behind a gloved hand. She didn’t wear gloves at all, her slender fingers wrapping around ancient texts as if relishing the touch of the worn covers. She probably thumbed the pages like his instructors told him never to do.

He would have thought that would annoy him, but he instead found himself intrigued in this muggle-born witch who liked reading, wore slippers instead of heels, and forewent glamours.

“Do you want to see the other libraries?”

His words were like a spell, as effective at getting her to brighten as a cheering draught.

“Oh, can I? The king and queen won’t mind?” She nearly vibrated in her excitement.

Her hair was definitely twice the size it was before.

“Not if you’re with me,” Draco said with a smirk, though that was partially a lie. If they’d wanted her in the other libraries, they would have explicitly told her.

“Well, in that case, what are we waiting for? Let’s go!” She made to dash away, but he caught her shoulder before she could do so.

“Allow me,” he said with a gesture towards the books still clutched to her chest.

“Oh, I can carry these.”

“Please, I insist.” It wouldn’t do if either of his parents not only caught him skiving off lessons with the girl, but allowing her to carry around books like some commoner. When she finally let go of her findings, he cast a featherweight charm and looked at her knowingly. She flushed an adorable shade of pink.

“They really weren’t very heavy, but thank you anyways.”

They spent the remainder of the afternoon exploring, only making it to two additional libraries. Hermione had only added to the pile of books floating behind Draco. He had to refresh the charm multiple times due to the sheer weight.

“You do realize you can’t remove these from the castle, don’t you?” He hoped this wouldn’t be the last time he’d see her, that she’d continue to visit along with her father for as long as there was work. “How long will it take your father to finish the ballroom?”

“To answer your first question, yes, I do understand that I’ll need to reserve these books to read later. I was hoping you could help with that.” He nodded his agreement, even as he inwardly danced with joy at the thought that he now had a reason to continue seeing the girl. “And to answer your second, it could take my father years.”

“Years?” Draco was aghast at the approximation.

“Years,” she repeated. “If you go take a look, you’ll see why. He’s not even working alone—he has an entire team helping with the moldings and scenery.”

Trust his mother to pick a project of such staggering proportions that it required multiple artists. On the bright side, that meant he’d have a long time to get to know Hermione, even if it was only during the holidays.

“It’s a shame you can’t attend Hogwarts.” It wasn’t until she tutted in agreement that he realized he’d said the words aloud. If she’d been like any other girl, she would have pounced on any hint of attachment on his part. She, however, did not.

“Well, if the king’s word is true, then I may soon. In exchange for my father’s work, yours agreed to update Hogwarts’ policies. I love Beauxbatons, but I can’t disagree that staying closer to home would make everything a lot easier on my family.”

“If you do,” Draco said the words slowly, hardly believing they were coming out of his mouth but needing her to know before it was too late, “then you should ask to be sorted into Slytherin.”

His heart sank at the way her nose wrinkled and lips turned downward in a grimace. “Isn’t that house renowned for pureblood ideology? I was leaning more towards Ravenclaw, myself.”

He nodded somewhat agreeably. “Books and cleverness…you could certainly do worse. They’re not a bad lot, if you ignore their tendency to disappear into their studies. Though…” he trailed off, reluctant to give away his feelings again without assistance.

“Though it might mean we don’t see each other? I wouldn’t let that happen outside of exams,” she said offhandedly. “I’ll keep in mind what you said. Snakes can be quite clever, in a sneaky kind of way.” The pointed look she sent Draco reminded him of how he’d approached her in the first place.

“Quite.”

A gentle melody played in the air, noting the top of the hour and finishing with eight long chimes.

“And that’s my cue. Hold on to those for me, would you?” Hermione leaned up onto her toes, laid the palms of her hands atop his shoulders, and pressed a kiss onto one cheek, then the other.

Draco could do nothing but stand still in shock at her forwardness. Then he remembered where she went to school and the strange habits the people of that land practiced. He cleared his throat to cover his awkward silence, but the crooked smirk she wore proved the attempt useless.

“When will I see you next?” He realized how needy that sounded as it came out, and hastily continued,“Just so I know when to have them ready?”

She flitted to the doors and didn’t respond until she was nearly through them, “I’m sure you’ll find me!”

And just like that, she was gone, leaving behind her stack of books, the echoes of her soft lips on his face, and the sweet scent of apple blossoms in the air. Draco wondered if she had perhaps cast some sort of love spell on him. How else could he explain his complete lack of reservation around her, or why her humble origins didn’t matter to him like he thought they should?

Queen Narcissa found him still in contemplation shortly after, and was impressed at the amount of reading material gathered around him.

“My dragon, there you are! Wilfred said he’d sent you to recover texts on our family history ages ago.”

“Mother, did you know the painter has a daughter?”

Narcissa blinked as she processed the odd question. “Master Granger? Of course. Hermione is a lovely, bright little thing. I told her she could read whatever she liked in our First Library. Why do you ask?”

Her son continued to stare at the wall, and she had half a mind to cast a homenum revelio.

“Draco?”

He came to with a shake and gave her one of his rare, full smiles. “No reason. I think we’ll be wonderful friends. You should make sure Hogwarts changes their acceptance rules before school starts again.”

Bewildered and bemused, she stroked a hand over his hair, so like his father’s. “I take it the two of you met?”

“We did. These are all hers.” He gestured towards the books once more.

“And here I thought you’d finally taken an interest in your studies.”

He snorted and she nearly pinched him on the arm for his cheek. She made do instead with a tickle to his side. He ducked away from her with a laugh, holding up his hands in surrender. “Mother, please! That isn’t fair! You know all my weak spots.”

She desisted in her attack with another indulgent smile. “And don’t you forget it. Just be careful with Hermione, dear.”

“What do you mean?” He tilted his head in confusion and she nearly sighed at his naivety. The young could be so oblivious, but she envied them their freedom.

She thought back on her own upbringing. The Blacks were more ancient and arrogant than even the royal family; her marriage to Lucius had been agreed upon at birth and as expected as the fact that clouds brought rain and Blacks were as pure as pure could be. She knew she was his from the beginning, and no amount of pining after others or imagining life in another place with a different name would change her fate.

Narcissa looked at her son, a near perfect replica of her husband aside from the softer grey eyes she’d bestowed upon him and his smile. He’d been so much like her at the start, but over the years he’d become more and more like his father. Now, today, he was like his younger self again.

She didn’t care what Lucius intended for his heir. She just wanted him to find happiness.

“True friends are difficult to come by, particularly for people of our station. I have a feeling that, if you nurture your relationship with Hermione, she’ll be someone worth keeping at your side.”

“What would father say?” he asked, caution and desire battling for domination on his face.

“He prizes power above all else.” This much was true. Lucius just happened to have a bit of a blind spot outside of magical families. “Apply yourself to your studies, help one another, and I’ll take care of Hogwarts and your father.”

Listening to his mother, Draco started to relax and let a bit of his earlier hope trickle back in. He wasn’t sure how Hermione had secured her approval, but she had. Greater deeds had been turned into ballads.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a bit terrifying sometimes?”

Narcissa smirked, immediately reminding Draco of wild curls and a smattering of freckles. The two women looked wildly different, yet they gave off a similar air of confident capability.

“I have been told. Once or twice.”

He made a note to tread carefully around Hermione in the future. If she turned out anything like his mother, he never wanted to be on the opposite end of her ire.

Oh, the feats they would accomplish together.

WC 2606

DHRMonth Prompt: Week 4 - Alternate Universe, September 22 - Royal AU

Cross-posted to AO3

I have half a mind to write a full story in this setting, since it spiraled into something I want to know more about. I didn’t think I used to have a thing for royal AUs, but maybe I do???

#dramione month #dramionemonth #dramione #dhr fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #draco malfoy x hermione granger #hermione granger #draco malfoy

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