Elara

HOW TO CATCH SNITCHES AND GET WITCHES

Draco Malfoy’s face—as a rule—irritated Hermione. But Draco Malfoy’s face plastered all over her favourite book shop? Well, Hermione had not known rage like it in years.

Chapter 5: Hermoaning Into The Pasta

Scorpius ✨💜💚🖤

#dramione #dracomalfoy #hermionegranger #fanart #harrypotterfandom #ship #scorpiusmalfoy

— Only you, my darling, only you

When Hermione found out her application for a Healer position at the Fae Royal Court was accepted, she thought it was a joke. In fact, she didn’t even reply until a second letter arrived—a silver envelope with an emerald seal that dissolved into thin air after she read it.

Apparently, the Fae King and Queen were so desperate to save their son from the curse tormenting the Prince that they didn’t mind a human working for them anymore. She was an outsider her whole life, and she doubted the Faerie Court would be much of a difference.

Besides, she wanted to help the Crown Prince—she wanted to be the one to break the curse for him. Not because she believed he would fall in love with her or that it would give her a happy ending worthy of a fairytale.  

No. She just wanted to do something good.

And there she was. Brought to the Wiltshire Castle by the largest carriage she has ever seen—so large it fit a bed, a round table for two and a small wardrobe. 

It seemed ridiculous and completely unnecessary for someone like her, but it also felt nice. She felt important. perhaps for the first time in her life.

The castle itself was magnificent, built of equal parts of stone and glass shimmering brightly even at night. The four towers looming above were each equipped with large clocks that told the time in each Fae realm: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin.

She has never seen a place like that and she doubted she ever would again. 

 “Miss Granger,” a soft voice beamed from behind, and when she turned around she suddenly faced to face with Queen Narcissa. “Welcome to Wiltshire.”

Before Hermione could reply curtsy, the Queen gently shoved her inside, into a small, plain room that seemed so out of place for a castle like this that she thought it to be a servant’s room. 

“My son will be here soon. You are aware of his condition, are you not?”

Hermione nodded. “Yes, Your Grace,” she said quietly. “If I could see the records the other Healers kept before we begin—” 

“I’m afraid there won’t be much to show you,” the Queen smiled sadly. “The previous Healers didn’t stay with us long enough to leave enough notes.”

She swallowed hard. She knew exactly what Narcissa meant by saying they didn’t stay. 

“That’s—”

“—dumb?” 

“Unfortunate,” Hermione offered with a grimace. “I was hoping they left some valuable research for me to read through if I can be honest.”

“Honesty is much appreciated here. But you will soon realise, Miss Granger, that Fae are extremely… arrogant and impatient, despite our long life span,” she said, her lips melting into a scowl. “They never took the curse seriously. And they all paid for that with their lives.”

Before she managed to come up with a response, a quiet knock interrupted her conversation with the Queen.

She knew who was on the other side from the way Narcissa smiled. It was a warm, loving smile, reserved for family only. 

This was it. 

She was going to meet the Prince.

“Come in,” the Queen said. “We’re ready.” 

The door opened with a loud creak and Hermione could swear her heart skipped a beat when the Fae Prince entered the room. 

He barely looked at her before his eyes immediately drifted back to his mother.  But she got an eyeful of him. 

To say he was handsome would be an understatement of the century. He was beyond handsome—beautiful would be a better word to describe him, and yet it still wouldn’t do him justice. Otherworldly beautiful. 

He was tall and lean, with chiselled muscles covering every inch of his body.

And he moved with such smoothness Hermione thought each step of his was an invitation to dance, gracious and elegant and flirtatious all at once. No immortal could achieve that, Hermione realised, not even with a lifetime of training.

The silk silver shirt with a high collar he wore clung to his chest, the fabric moving as his muscles flexed underneath.

She was gaping. She was most definitely, undeniably gaping at him. 

“Mother,” he greeted the Queen with a half-smile tugging at his pale lips. “Another one?” 

Narcissa sighed. “This is Miss Granger, my dear. She is—” 

“A human?” 

“A Healer.”

The Prince threw a quick glance her way, one that lasted less than a heartbeat, as if she wasn’t worth more of his attention. He stalked closer, brushing an invisible speck of dust off his forehead, glorious boredom painted all over his face. 

It was obvious he didn’t want her here. Luckily, she was used to being unwelcome. 

“Get on with it, then,” he drawled, leaning closer, though still keeping a respectful distance from her. “I have important matters to attend to.” 

“What matters, dear?” He ignored his mother, staring down at her instead. 

Was he talking to her before?  She quirked a brow, waiting for an explanation that never came. “Get on with what, exactly?” 

The Prince released an exasperated sigh, running a hand through his dishevelled hair. It began to curl at the ends, as though he forgot to cut it recently. Or as if he didn’t care.

“Well, you’re here to touch me, or maybe even kiss me, because for some reason my Mother is convinced you are my soulmate and can therefore break the terrible curse,” he said casually, inspecting his impeccable nails and the rings on his fingers. “Are you not?”

Hermione, with barely contained disguise, threw the Queen a nasty look, one she could probably hang for, and quickly returned her attention to the Prince. 

A wicked smirk spread across his face, his silver eyes dancing with mischief. “So, what is going to be? Do you want to kiss a Fae Prince, human?”

She rose to her feet, holding his repugnant gaze. She didn’t blame him for the loathing, not if that was how mother was trying to save him. 

“I can assure you, princeling,” Hermione seethed, “I have no intention of kissing you. I am here to heal you.”

The corners of his mouth twitched when she called him a princeling, and he slid his hands into the pockets of his black pants. “Interesting,” he purred. Silver petals fell off his snow-white hair, melting on his skin as if they were snow. “I’ll give you a week.” 

“A week?”

Narcissa clicked her tongue. “Don’t be ridiculous, my dear—” 

Harry: Are you really surprised? Ginny: I thought I wouldn’t be, honestly.

-

Painting a piece for my fic Thirty Hours to Fall in Love

✨War au

✨Captured death eater Draco

✨Fuck or die!

✨Banter, flirting, & fluff

✨Trapped together

(I’m choosing cat because I think the idea of Tom being like a crazy cat man who feeds all the neighbourhood cats who gets outrageously offended when one cat (hermione) doesnt like him is hilarious so here we are)

Hermione lived in a muggle block of flats for a number of reasons.

First of all, it was cheaper. Second of all…

Well, really, it was just cheaper. She wasn’t exactly made of money, and she had lived in the muggle world all her live besides magical school, so a muggle flat really wasn’t too strange for her. 

Her neighbours were, for the most part, friendly yet reserved. 

Except for 207. He was a dick.

Undead Eternal by In Dreams

Driven by curiosity and ambition, Hermione approaches the only vampire she knows—Draco Malfoy—so that he might turn her to the world of the undead. But the arrangement comes with more than she bargains for. Written for the Wheel of Doom Collective’s “Write This in Your Style” collection. The prompts for this round were kidnapper/hostage x fuck or die.