Are you disappointed yet?

I’ve been super busy with real life lately, but it came to my attention that artwork I drew for a ficlet in my and @raven-m-3​​’s Meet the Malfoys series has been stolen. It is being used by third party self-publishing fiction apps to advertise stories other than the one it was originally written for. Stealing art is never okay, but this particular artwork also featured an original character, Leo. One of the companies even went so far as to hire another artist to copy it. That they have stolen and are making profit off my artwork is unacceptable. I don’t have the time or resources to fight them legally, but this a PSA to please report stolen fanart the moment you see it advertised on fb or other platforms by third parties.

Screeenshots and DMs are appreciated, but they won’t help me as much as reports. Only the artist can report for intellectual property / theft, but try to report for other reasons, such as nsfw themes (or you can always elect “other” and leave the reason blank). The more reports an art has, the more likely it is to be noticed and taken down.

Please note that rampant reposting by Dramione fans on Pinterest, TikTok, Insta, etc., is what makes this stealing easier. The more diluted an art gets from its original creator, the easy it is for these unethical companies to notice and snatch it. I do not allow reposting for a reason; please respect it. ❤️

To see the original story and artwork, go here: https://raven-m-3.tumblr.com/post/621829879015571457

It took a village to put Leo Malfoy down for a nap on the weekends.

Hermione would warm the bottle while Draco read Good Night, Little Sea Otter; Draco would tuck Leo in as Hermione dimmed the lights, humming.

As for Lyra and Scorpius— well, they were to play together quietly until the necessary silencing and monitoring charms were in place.

Theoretically.

Draco was tiptoeing towards the door and Hermione was on the last verse of Hickory Dickory Dock when it happened.  

“STOP! ”

“NO FAIR! NO F— ”

Leo shot upright as Draco cursed. “Da?”

Hermione groaned and tore from the room, sprinting towards the noise.

The scene in Scorpius’ room froze her. Scorpius was jumping up and down, screaming as Lyra scaled his bookshelf like a cat. Lyra’s eyes were narrowed in beady determination, her little arm stretching for something at the top— a book.

The shelf swayed, and Hermione’s chest seized. She scrambled for her wand just as Draco arrived with Leo, slamming into her from behind.

Hermione watched her wand fly through air as the shelf began toppling. Draco shouted something, but she could do nothing but stare in helpless horror as Lyra launched off the shelf like a flying squirrel, tackling Scorpius as it crashed to the ground.

There was a groan, and a shuffling. Hermione could hardly breathe as she stumbled forward, scanning Scorpius and Lyra for injuries.  

She had barely disentangled whose blond head was whose when sound erupted again.  

“Look what you —”  

“Youw fault ! ”

They began wrangling over the book.

“Get off !”

“Give it back!”

Hermione’s nostrils flared as she turned to snatch her wand. “Accio .”

The book soared into her hands as Scorpius and Lyra scrambled to their feet, pointing at each other.  

“Mum, she took my—”

“He wouldn’t shawe!”

“—can’t even read it! Last time she tore out half the pages—””

“He never shawes! I even said pwease, but he—”  

“Enough,” Draco boomed behind her.  

There was a ringing silence.

Hermione glared down at them as Draco appeared at her side with slow footsteps. He set a kicking Leo on the floor.

“What have we told you about sharing with your little sister, Scorpius?”

“But Dad, she—”

“No buts."      

Scorpius hung his head. A look of glee crossed Lyra’s face — just quick enough to catch.  

“And what have we told you about respecting your brother’s things, Lyra?” said Draco sharply.

Lyra’s expression soured, and she jutted her lip out.

“You know what?” Hermione glanced at Draco. “I think this calls for the Get Along Shirt.”

Scorpius groaned; Lyra stomped her foot. “Mum—”

“No whinging. This is the third fight of the day. We’ve tried reasoning, we’ve tried negotiating, we’ve tried separating. Nothing has worked.” She muttered a quick Summoning Charm, and a piece of fabric barreled through the doorway and into her hands.

She unfolded it and handed it to Draco, who coughed. “I’ll let you do the honors.”

Hermione set about fixing the broken shelves and summoning the scattered books while Draco wriggled their pouting, protesting children into the Get Along Shirt.

They had Hermione’s parents to thank for it. They’d picked it up at a Muggle shop one weekend while babysitting, and as loathe as Hermione was to admit it, her father had been right.

The thing worked.

Hermione continued to lecture them as she cleaned. “Siblings love each other. Siblings are a team. You’ll need to remember both if you want to get out of the Get Along Shirt.”

Her only replies were Draco’s coughing, and a sound vaguely resembling a hiss from Lyra.

Finally, Hermione finished repairing the book she’d pried out of Leo’s slobbering mouth earlier, and sent it soaring back to the shelf.

“Call me once you’re ready to play nicely together. Until then, you have to sit here quickly and think about what you’ve done.” She tucked her wand into her back pocket, glancing around the room for Leo.

But he was nowhere to be found.

She spun to Draco, but just when she opened her mouth to ask, her eyes dropped to her two grumpy eldest. There was an odd bulge in the Get Along Shirt, situated squarely between them. She followed the shape to the hemline, where two tiny feet were sticking out.

“Leo!” Hermione rushed over and quickly extricated him from the shirt. He let out a delighted squeal as she scooped him up. “Leo, that shirt isn’t for hide and seek!”

Draco’s coughing fit dissolved into full-on laughter.

"It's not funny, Draco!"

He tried to stop himself as Hermione glared daggers at him, which only made him laugh harder. Scorpius sulked while Lyra’s narrowed eyes darted between them, searching for weakness.  

“Don’t make me put you in that shirt, Draco Malfoy.”

“Are you sure we shouldn’t—”

“They’re fine .” Ginny’s mouth quirked as she finished topping off Hermione’s glass. “Quit hovering.”

Hermione sighed. “You're right. It’s just—a bit unsettling, is all.”

“I get it,” said Ginny, now rummaging through her liquor cabinet. “I mean, I half-thought Harry was Imperio ’d when he suggested we leave the four of them alone alone—”

“Right? And the way Draco laughed at that stupid joke of his—!”

“—but I really think we’re not giving them enough credit." Ginny found what she was looking for— an expensive-looking bottle of mead— and unpopped it with a wink. "Mummy's favorite medicine."  

“You know, I suppose it’s been moving this way for a while now,” said Hermione thoughtfully. “I can’t remember the last time they really argued—”

“Luna and Theo’s in February. I remember because I made Harry sleep on the couch for a week.”

Hermione winced. “Ah. Right.”

“But you’re not wrong. They have been getting on lately.” With a tilt of her head, Ginny led them out of the kitchen and down the corridor.

“It’s nice to see, don’t get me wrong.” Hermione sipped her drink as they walked. “It’s just unexpected.”

“Yeah, well, fatherhood will change a person. There’s no time for petty schoolboy squabbles when you’re dealing with nappies and tantrums and insomniac toddlers.”

Hermione snorted into her glass.

They reached the doors of the drawing room, and Ginny smirked as she turned to her.

“To our grown wankers of husbands finally growing up.”

“Finally,” said Hermione.

Their glasses clinked, and Ginny pushed the doors open.

Hermione’s cocktail sloshed as they froze.

A writing desk had tipped over, casting books and parchment and picture frames to the floor. A pillow had burst somewhere, filling the air with feathers that danced between their enraged husbands.

“This is clearly Scorpius’ doing!” Harry was shouting, fully red in the face. “If you hadn’t distracted with me with your terrible Quidditch opinions—”

“Come off it, Potter!” Draco spat. “This coming from the man who destroyed Gringotts and Hogwarts in a single day!”

“Albus would never—”

“It was clearly Albus! Anyone with your genetics is about as graceful as a troll—”

“Mama!” Scorpius squirmed towards the doorway with a toothless grin. "Mama!"  

Albus blinked up at his father, then his mother, wide-eyed.

There was silence. And then—