#les scripta

(Narcissa/Hermione, 250 words, ao3, @sapphicmicrofics)

“Darling, I would like nothing more than to wake up with you every morning. Please say you’ll move in with me.“

Hermione had started walking further into the room but froze two steps away from Narcissa and slowly turned around. Narcissa winced at the inelegant timing of her question. She’d meant to give Hermione time to explore rather than just blurting it out the minute they entered the last room on the tour.

“It doesn’t have to be here,” Narcissa continued. “We could move into your flat or find somewhere new together. Whatever you want.”

Another beat of silence and Narcissa started to panic. It was too early. They were only months into their relationship and this was Hermione’s first time visiting Black Manor. As Narcissa stood there, mentally berating herself, the surprise on Hermione’s face was slowly overtaken by a brilliant smile.

“Yes,” the younger witch said breathlessly as she stepped back towards Narcissa, grabbing both of the blonde’s hands in her own. “I would love to live with you.”

Narcissa let out a sigh of relief. Of course it worked. Her plan was genius, her timing impeccable. Narcissa had expertly exploited this particular weakness of Hermione’s.

“Marvelous!” Narcissa exclaimed. “So, here or —”

Hermione chuckled. “You only gave me a minute to take in the library, but I think you know very well that I can’t agree to live anywhere else now that I’ve seen it. This was a cunning way to ask.”

(Narcissa/Hermione, 100 words, ao3, @sapphicmicrofics)

The first time a stranger referred to her as “Ms. Black” after her divorce, Narcissa smiled. She continued smiling every time she heard it for months, but over time she grew used to it.

The first time a co-worker deliberately spat out “Mrs. Malfoy,” disregarding the well-publicized news of her divorce, Narcissa flinched. It bothered her for years, but eventually she learned to ignore it.

(Pansy/Hermione, 200 words, ao3, @sapphicmicrofics)

“These muggle women are a nuisance,” Pansy muttered when she returned to the booth with their drinks. She grinned. “I swear I don’t mean that in a death eater-y way.”

“You’re not as funny as you think you are.” Hermione rolled her eyes, not bothering to ask what the complaint was about. They were at a muggle gay bar on ladies’ night. Hermione had watched as multiple women interrupted Pansy’s quest for drinks to bat their eyelashes at her.

Pansy scoffed. “I’m hilarious.”

“As for the women,” Hermione paused as she watched Pansy slouch back in her seat with her legs spread and arms draped along the top of the booth. Hermione’s gaze momentarily lingered on the hint of toned biceps hidden beneath Pansy’s impeccably tailored black blazer before being drawn down to Pansy’s chest. Her girlfriend’s green shirt had enough buttons undone to make it very clear she wasn’t wearing a bra. “I can’t say I blame them.”

(Fleur/Hermione, 100 words, ao3, @sapphicmicrofics)

In the early days Hermione spent recovering at Shell Cottage, she heard a lot of footsteps in the hall outside her room.

Bill strolled by in his boots with a steady gait. Ron’s heavy steps would speed up as they neared her doorway, remaining rushed until he was well clear of it. In contrast, Harry’s shuffling steps would slow as he neared the door, sometimes pausing altogether, before shuffling away once more.

(Narcissa/Lily, 100 words, ao3, @sapphicmicrofics)

They are hidden away in the back of the library, quietly working on a potions essay, when Lily spots it. Narcissa tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, the sleeve of her robe slipping down her arm just enough to reveal the red handprint around her wrist. Narcissa forbids Lily from speaking of it, walks away if she tries. 

Lily counters with two bruises of her own.

(Fleur/Hermione, 150 words, ao3, @sapphicmicrofics)

Fleur pulled the stem from her mouth and displayed yet another perfectly tied knot. Hermione struggled for a moment before sighing in defeat, pulling an untied stem from her mouth, and pushing the bowl of cherries further away.

Hermione huffed. “This whole cherry stem tying thing is ridiculous. The notion that it correlates with kissing or being a good lover is fundamentally flawed. The skills required to tie the stem have no connection to—”

“Don’t be a sore loser, mon amour,” Fleur scooted closer to Hermione on the couch, wrapping her arms around the grumpy brunette. “It’s a playful challenge. There is no shame in conceding defeat.”

“Alright, you’ve bested me in stem tying. But I propose we move on to a more meaningful test of oral dexterity.” Hermione’s lips curled into a mischievous smirk.

Fleur raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What do you have in mind?”

(Hermione/Slytherin women, 100 words, ao3, @sapphicmicrofics)

Hermione had a bit of a reputation.

It started with Pansy, the summer after the battle. They worked together on repairs at Hogwarts. They slept together too. Sometimes they didn’t sleep.

In her eighth year, it was Astoria. The younger girl was bright enough to be in Charms with Hermione. Hermione was charmed.

Narcissa came many years later. The list ended there, with Hermione thoroughly stuck on the blonde.

And okay, there may have been a few others in between. Tracey and Millicent. Gemma Farley. Daphne (with Astoria’s blessing!).