being a woman is like would you rather be dehumanised for being sexy or for being ugly
(slightly nsfw)
“Would you quit it?” Hermione covered the lens with her palm, meeting Draco’s gaze over the viewfinder. “We’re meant to be discreet.”
“The light is hitting you perfectly right now.” He feigned dejection, all pouty lips and liquid grey eyes. “Just lie down like before.”
Rolling her eyes, Hermione dropped onto the mattress, dragging the covers up to her chin.
“You’re impossible.” He tugged the thin sheet back down, exposing her breasts. His knuckles swept between them reverently. “I want to see you.”
“I’m cold,” she grumbled, fidgeting.
“I know. Your tits look insane right now.” Her father’s old Minolta was in front of his face again, toying with the focus. “Zhuzh your hair.”
“My hair is permanently zhuzhed,” she protested, dragging her fingers through her thick curls anyway, plumping them up.
“Gods, look at you. Glance down slightly. Too much. Imagine I’m lying over you.”
“You are lying over me.”
“Like I’m between your legs, about to run my tongue—don't move. You're perfect.”
Shadow and light splashed on the crests and dips of Hermione’s body and spilled onto the white rumpled sheets, painting her in a golden shine. His finger hovered over the shutter button.
“What are you waiting for?” she asked, impatient. Click. The shutter went off, capturing her mid-speech.
“Now let me take a picture.” She sat up, smirking.
“Thought we were being discreet.” Draco clutched the camera possessively. Rude. Granted, she had gifted it to him a week ago, but it was still a Granger family heirloom.
“You’re not developing that film until we go public.” She lifted the strap over his head, uncovering a tender love bite above his shoulder. He dipped forward, capturing her lips in a quick kiss.
Heat bloomed across her cheeks.
“On your back, Malfoy.” She advanced the film with her thumb.
He flopped backwards, crossing his arms over his chest and shooting her a glower. Eyebrows slanted petulantly. “Like this?”
Click.
“Hey!” He shot up onto his elbows. “You’re wasting film.”
Hermione’s lips stretched, watching him snap back into his natural self. His broad chest expanded, sitting up like that, gloriously naked. The plants on the windowsill cast long shadows over his Quidditch-hardened body, darkness intersecting sunlit scars. His pale hair fell slightly too long over his eyes. A pretty shade of celestial blue at the outer rings of his irises. Proof to nonbelievers that Draco bore colour in him.
“My grump.” She giggled at his indignant expression, crawling over to straddle his lap.
Draco’s eyes grew hooded. He reached out his hand, caressing her thigh brazenly.
“Don’t move,” she whispered, pivoting him into focus.
Hermione honed in on Draco's stare in the lens, eyeing the camera the same way he looked at her sometimes, like he wished to peer inside and study all the mysteries hidden beneath.
Her heartbeat pounded against her eardrums. “What do you say we go to Diagon tonight," she suggested tentatively, "maybe grab dinner?”
His face lit up.
Click.
(495 words, prompt: let me take a picture, also @ivmaruva drew nsfw art inspired by this drabble on twitter! 😍)
Excerpt:
“Tell me,” he demanded in his low voice, vibrating in a way that sent shivers down her spine. But she only bit her tongue in response, refusing to humour him with a proper answer. And of course, Malfoy was greatly displeased by that. Well – this was all his fault, really… It wasn’t like he didn’t know how stubborn she could be, so he knew what he was getting himself into. Literally.
Hermione stared out the window, clutching her knees to her chest as she watched the English countryside fly by.
What if it was all a mistake? What if she wasn’t magic enough after all? She’d be laughed out of class her very first day, her spells would fail despite her careful studying…
She sighed, the sound echoing throughout the empty compartment. Hermione had been careful to leave space for another person to sit next to her and across from her, but everyone had walked past, friendships already formed.
What if she couldn’t make friends? Was she too late? Everyone else seemed to know each other, what if Hermione was too late?
A knock on the door drew her out of her worries. Hermione turned in surprise as a small, blond haired boy opened the compartment door.
“Is this compartment full?”
Hermione’s eyes lit up. “Not at all!” She patted the bench across from her eagerly.
The boy slid down onto the seat. “Thanks,” he said with a small smile. “What’s your name?”
“Hermione Granger,” she said excitedly. “And yours?”
“Malfoy. Draco Malfoy,” he said. He paused thoughtfully. “I don’t know any Grangers. Are your parents Muggles, then?” He looked wary.
Hermione hesitated. Draco was the first person her age who’d talked to her since she’d been thrown into this world. Would it really be a big deal to tell a little white lie in order to fit in and not scare him away?
“No, they’re not Muggles. We’re from… France. That’s why you probably don’t know them,” she explained.
Draco’s brows furrowed thoughtfully. “Oh. That makes sense, then. So what house are you hoping for? I know I’ll be in Slytherin, of course. My whole family has been,” he said proudly.
Hermione’s smile returned. “That’s great! I read that Slytherin gets a bad rap sometimes, but Merlin himself was in Slytherin, so they can’t be all bad.” She grinned. “You’ll be one of the best ones, I’m sure of it.”
Draco’s cheeks tinged pink.
Hermione continued. “I’ve heard Gryffindor is known for their bravery and determination, so I think I’d like to be there. Or Ravenclaw - I love reading and studying,” she added.
Draco’s eyes lit up. “If I wasn’t Slytherin, I’d want Ravenclaw too! Have you learned any spells?” He asked curiously.
The rest of the train ride was spent excitedly discussing the spells they’d learn together, Hermione listening in wonder as Draco described the castle, and laughing delightedly as they shared a box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans.
And when Hermione was sorted into Ravenclaw, Draco clapped so hard his hands hurt, eyes shining with joy as his new friend joined him at the House table.
Draco and Hermione during a quiet moment while getting ready for the Ministry Gala ✨💫⭐️
I commissioned the lovely @artofcrumbs to create this stunning art of Dramione, inspired by one of my favorite Sailor Moon illustrations. Thank you so much! I’m simply in love with it. 🥰🥰
Inspired by “Let The Dark In” By @senlinyu
“Why do you want to keep me alive?” she asks, her voice crackling. “Why do you care if it’s not just because of the vows. You’ve always been very clear that I don’t belong in this world, that you wish I didn’t, that you hate me, and that I’ll never matter because I’m not a pureblood. So, why do you care if I’m alive?”
He blinks, looking blindsided. He swallows, his throat dipping as he stares at her.
“Because —“
He stops like the answer is caught in his throat. He swallows.
“Because you’re my –” He exhales and then stammers out: “Y-you’re my person.”
Спустя очень долгое отсутствие, вспомнила, что у меня же есть соцсети и их на вести... Так что возвращаюсь в строй с Драмионы.
Take a risk
His words were always quick to cut, mouth twisted into a scowl as he spat vitriol in her direction. But she noticed what others did not.
What he seemed so eager to dole out, he prohibited from others. If Crabbe stuck a leg out in her path, Malfoy was quick to intercede with some distraction of his own. When she overheard Parkinson’s unkind descriptions about her appearance, she was surprised by his quick follow up putting the pug-nosed girl in her own well of shame.
It didn’t take an idiot to figure out that Draco Malfoy loathed her, but what he loathed more was anyone else taking his place as her sole tormentor. And while she shed her tears and hit back at him with her own scathing retorts, she also realized Malfoy paid more attention to her than he did to anyone else, friend or foe.
The notice trod dangerously close to curiosity, eventually going so far as to become indistinguishable from fascination. She obviously intrigued him, but the boy who denied himself nothing refused to acknowledge her.
Hermione always liked a challenge.
She found him Saturday night deep in the stacks long after most other studious students had departed. Head buried in a tome, he flipped the pages oblivious to her presence.
“Interesting reading material.”
He nearly dropped the book as he spun around to face her. One hand flicked down to his pocket as if to reach for his wand, but her relaxed stance and amused smile gave him reasons to pause.
“What do you want, Granger?” He spat, snapping the book shut and hiding it behind his back.
Maintaining her smile and eye contact, she stepped closer, just slow enough to give him time to retreat if he desired. He didn’t move. They stood a mere step or two apart, not close enough to be inappropriate, but near enough that anyone who saw them would double back at the odd pairing.
“I haven’t seen you around much lately.”
“You should consider yourself lucky. I have more important things to care about right now.”
“Like researching magical artifacts and relocation charms?”
He sucked in a sharp breath at her question, shoulders stiffening at the edges. With one secret in the open, there wasn’t any point hiding the book in his hands now.
“It’s none of your bloody business.” His voice shook, hands fisting on the cover he now clutched to his stomach.
Hermione took her time looking him over, and he shuffled in discomfort. For all his bluster and gained height over the past year, he looked gaunt and almost ghostly in complexion. “Are you okay, Malfoy? You don’t look well.”
Scoffing in disbelief, he shot back, “And you care because?”
“I just do.”
He looked baffled at her confession, lips parting in surprise and posture loosening. She had her foot in the crack and just needed to pry the door open now.
She raised one hand slowly, much like her movement before, letting him see the motion and gauging his response. He was tall now, much taller than her, and she had to reach up to touch his face. Fingertips brushed along the nape of his neck to cup behind his ear and delve into his hair, just as soft as she had always imagined. He remained frozen and she took that as encouragement to continue, stepping into his frame now and pressing her other hand into his chest above his heart. Here there was movement, a frantic beating beneath the cloth betraying his emotions.
Leaning up, she applied pressure to the back of his neck to bring him down to meet her. The edges of the tome between them pressed painfully into her stomach, but she welcomed its reminder of the risk she took. She could see the flutter of his lashes, watched as they closed in defeat before lips brushed together once, twice. She smelled mint and the barest hint of bergamot. As she pulled away and dropped to her heels, he leaned forward as if to chase her, only to meet air as she stepped back.
“What was that for?” His voice was husky in a way she’d never heard before, but now wanted to hear again.
“Consider it a bid for peace.”
His mouth tightened as he considered her proposal, eyes lingering on her lips he now knew the taste of and whose touch he preferred infinitely more than their lack. “And what makes you think I need the distraction?”
“Distraction, or respite?”
He tried to cover his chuckle with a cough, but she heard it regardless. “I don’t exactly have time for games.”
“I’m not a player.”
She retreated a step and adjusted the bag strap on her shoulder. She wouldn’t push too hard now. Hermione might not play Wizard’s Chess as well as Ron, but she knew when to retreat, when to press forward, and, like now, when to wait.
“I’ll see you around, Malfoy.”
Preview of an upcoming chapter in Pulling Teeth by Carrie Maxwell. I got the go ahead to post the artwork.
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