Daily Prompt Voting for #DramioneMonth is now OPEN!
Daily Prompt Voting for #DramioneMonth is now OPEN! Please read through the prompts for each week and choose up to FIVE of your favourite prompts for each week!
The form will close at 23:59 PDT July 17th. Make sure to get your vote in! 🔗 here: https://forms.gle/iZooatm2YenwZfaQ7
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He woke up, cleaned his face, ate his breakfast and went to the library to get started on his Astronomy essay.
It was a normal routine. But today, he had this foreboding feeling that he had forgotten something, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't put his finger on it.
He sat blankly on an empty chair and started fiddling his wand.
Ron walked to his table, sat beside him and yawned. Harry mirrored him. They had Astronomy that midnight, where the stars are at their brightest and had Divination in the morning. But it wasn't the lack of sleep that had him anxious.
Ron rolled his parchment and opened his Astrology book, then started to write something but came up empty.
"Hey, have you seen Hermione? I'd like her help on the essay.", Ron asked him.
Harry stood abruptly. "Oh, crap! I left my book on the tower. I'll be right back."
Harry hurried up the tower. When he reached the spiral staircase, he heard ... 𝘯𝘰𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘴. Moans of pleasure and grunts of appreciation echoed throughout the floor above and Harry felt his cheeks flush.
Harry was not one to eavesdrop but catching Draco Malfoy in a compromising position would certainly earn the git a lot of demerits - maybe even expulsion. The corner of his lips lifted.
So, Harry slowly started walking up, but stopped short when he noticed a Gryffindor scarf...
then a Gryffindor tie....
then a Gryffindor robe...
This must be a joke.
When his head was able to peek out the tower floor, the sound got louder and dirtier. He could make out the naked back of Draco Malfoy, head bowed to another figure - the Gryffindor girl's back was against the wall, a set of nicely shaped legs wound around his middle.
And there was no mistaking the mop of brown curls hidden from his view by the blonde git's relentless thrusting.
Harry's breakfast was in danger of being hurled out. Is this what it was like to accidentally catch your sister shagging his boyfriend?
He shook his head viciously. The mental image would haunt him forever.
Draco Malfoy let out a loud grunt and Harry covered his ears to drown out the sound that followed after.
Harry cast a Muffliato on his feet and ran down the tower, seriously considering to obliviate himself for good measure.
But then something flashed in his mind - 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘬, 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘔𝘢𝘭𝘧𝘰𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘏𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘯𝘰𝘨𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴, 𝘏𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘭𝘭.
Harry took note to ask Hermione to obliviate him 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯 - or maybe a potent potion.
The day ended with a traumatized Harry Potter and his forgotten Astrology book.
Decadent chocolate ganache with a swirl of raspberry coated her tongue, and, for the life of her, Hermione could not imagine a more perfect marriage of flavours.
"See? I told you that coming to Paris would be worth it."
The smugness in Malfoy's voice pulled her out of her reverie, and she sat back up, eyes narrowing on him as she savoured the truffle's lingering sweetness. He looked every bit as self-satisfied as he'd sounded, one corner of his lip curled upward.
She hated to admit it, but he was right. Not that she'd say as such to his face.
"We only have an hour," she reminded him.
He shrugged, and Hermione tried to ignore just how attractive she found the ripple of muscles across those broad shoulders of his to be.
"We can always come back. Make a weekend of it. What do you say, Granger? I'll introduce you to all my favourites."
Gone was the half smile. He stared intently at her, waiting for her answer.
She should say no. They were coworkers, for one. He could be a complete arse more often than not, for another. A stupidly sexy arse, but still. If she agreed, there was no knowing what else he might try and convince her to do. But, it had been ages since she'd last gone on a trip or done anything for herself, really.
"Do your favourites include a bookstore?"
He sipped at his tea before replying, the light grey of his eyes crinkling at the edges as he kept them trained on her. Then, he dabbed at his lips with a napkin.
"Of course. More than a couple."
"Fine, then."
"How does this weekend sound?"
"I'll check my calendar and let you know."
She didn't need to check. She knew she had nothing planned that couldn't be moved.
His mouth twitched. "Sounds good to me."
Standing, she cleared her throat. "Shall we? I need to go over my notes before the meeting." But before she could step away, a large hand stopped her in place, and she was horrified to find that she quite liked the weight of it on top of hers.
"Oh, and Granger?"
"Yes?" Oh, God. Her voice. There was no missing the uptick in pitch.
Malfoy's smirk was back. "Let me handle the accommodations. Separate rooms, obviously."
"O-obviously." She turned away as she felt a telltale heat build in her cheeks. Deep breaths. Normal voice. "Let's go."
@dhrmonth | Week 3 - (Everything but) The Stars | Day 15: Black Family Tree
He lifted a trembling hand, pointing past her. She turned, unwilling and yet unable not to, following the line of his finger. And then she saw it.
Her breath faltered.
There, stitched in delicate threads, was his name. Draco Lucius Malfoy. From it extended no marriage line, but there was a faint new outline beside him. A woman’s profile, wild hair rendered in golden thread that was unmistakably hers. And below both their names, descending in tendrils of silver and green, a small unopened flower. No name. No face. Just possibility.
He had wanted her for a long time, years really. So when Draco Malfoy first conceptualised his plans to finally make her his, he knew he had to be careful when going over every aspect to ensure that it would be perfect.
He had tried to get close to her before, using his status as a potions master to gain access to her orbit. Hermione Granger had become a well-known healer providing concierge medicine for unique and rare magical malady cases through her non-profit organisation. He offered his services as a means to build a relationship with her, but ultimately, she refused to interact with him beyond the utmost professional courtesy. He even went out of his way to source new clientele for her, hoping that this would lead to them working closely together, brainstorming new ways to provide treatment for her new patients, but alas, it was to no avail. She merely thanked him, her mouth tight, her eyes cold, words clipped but polite. It became clear to him after the second year of their working relationship that this tactic was not the way to her heart.
Then, he began anonymously gifting her with rare medical magical texts and making donations to her organisation, hoping to impress her with his generosity. After he hit the 250,000 galleon mark, he received a private invitation to meet with her as the founder of Granger’s Magicure Solutions to thank him for everything he had done. He had shown up to that luncheon in the finest robes that his money could buy, but even after his identity was revealed to her, he was still unable to crack her frigid demeanor. When she asked him why he had been so zealous in his contributions, he told her how she had inspired him and how he had learned from his mistakes and wanted to do better for all of magical kind, but still her smile did not reach her eyes. He had witnessed how she looked when she was genuinely happy, talking with Potter or that insipid Weasel, and he longed for her to look at him that way. He left that meeting dejected and miserable, dejected by the knowledge that all of that time and effort had amounted to naught.
It was after that encounter that his desperation reached a peak. If only she would put aside her prejudice and give him a chance. If only there were a way to open her heart and her mind to him. If he could get her to let her guard down, he knew that he could change her mind. If he could just get her to look at him once the way she looked at her friends, open and willing to connect, his natural charms would work their magic on her.
Then he was struck by the fact that he was a wizard and that he had magic at his disposal. He brainstormed a few ideas, eventually concluding that he could brew a potion to make her more amenable to him.
Draco knew the potion he needed didn’t yet exist, but he started with a base of amortentia; he needed that to stoke her interest in him. He doubled the amount of ashwinder eggs, powdered unicorn horn, and rose thorns to strengthen its efficacy and intensify her amorous feelings. He added African red pepper to build heat and spice, so that her body would respond to him with arousal. He added a touch of Belladonna to make her feel dreamy and suggestible under his command. He also added Granian hair to make the potion all the more potent. He added honey to sweeten her countenance and to evoke Aphrodite’s influence. Finally, he added his own blood and semen to bind her to him. He brewed this potion for six months and a day, harvesting it under the full moon in Scorpio, channeling the energy of intensity and obsession.
He wrote to her then, informing her of a breakthrough he had made for the Vanishing Sickness and asked her to come to the Manor with haste. He wrote that this work was an innovation that was to be guarded with the utmost secrecy until he could secure a patent for his work. He wrote under the guise of excitement that he couldn’t wait for the patent to come through before telling her. And could she please come, but tell no one where she was going or for what purpose.
The reply came by owl only hours later. Draco had known she had lost a young patient, a girl of only 5, just a few weeks earlier, and that the pain of that loss would still be fresh. She agreed to call on him the following day and promised that she would keep it a secret until further notice. Draco felt his belly swoop and tingle with anticipation. Tomorrow she would be his and he would never let her go.
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I didn't have much of an idea but Mione's purse was always in the plan. It may not make much sense to the prompt but whatever... I love to add glow.
@dhrmonth
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.