Adrielle G

As per wikipedia a DINKUS is a typographic device or convention that typically consists of three spaced asterisks or bullet symbols in a horizontal row, e.g.   ∗ ∗ ∗   or   • • •  . The device has a variety of uses, and it usually denotes an intentional omission or a logical "break" of varying degree in a written work.

This is my pathetic attempt at trying to protect the ones made for me by my friend who insists on being anonymous but they are so pretty I feel so bad because they are so stealable too. Anyway I used them in my fanfics for Harry Potter (Dramione) and Inukag fanfics

Chapter Three/Five: The Smug Companion of my fic about a kneazle Draco.

“Miss Granger.” An unfamiliar voice slid into her path with the same confident swagger Cormac McLaggen had once used. Gareth Morgan introduced himself as the brother of Valmai Morgan, whom she’d met through Ginny. The wizard bowed with a courtesy so well-bred. “An honour, Miss Granger. I hoped to extend my sister’s gratitude for your support at the matches.” He threw in a dazzling smile that made her recall her once professor Gilderoy Lockhart. It nearly made her reconsider her flight to her room.

But before she could get properly acquainted, he released a yelp. Claws raked sharp lines across his robes. The kneazle, perched imperiously in Hermione’s arms, had struck with surgical precision, shredding fabric without sparing flesh.

“Oi! Shoo!” Ron waved a hand, his attention torn between Puddlemere’s beaters executing a ruthlessly precise formation and the feline interloper. “Get out of it, you stupid cat.”

The Kneazle turned its head slowly, fixing Ron with a look of such profound disdain that Hermione nearly laughed aloud. It clearly understood the insult, just like Crookshanks had done, once upon a time when he still lived. She focused on the match in order to avoid crying in public in time to catch the huff that was almost audible over the commentator’s booming voice. She saw Ronald’s brutish hand begin to rise, no doubt to shoo the creature away. The kneazle did not retreat. Instead, it whipped its plume of a tail across Ron’s nose in a stinging, calculated slap.

“Oi!” Ron sputtered.

Then, he strutted along the rail with a ballerina’s grace, passing directly in front of Hermione. As it did, its fluffy tail gave a deliberate, precise flick, knocking her forgotten cup of pumpkin juice directly into Harry’s lap.

Harry jumped as the cold liquid soaked through his trousers. “What the—?”

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Work for Dramione Month 2025