By CaptBexx // all the others i just saved them from the internet so I dont know who the artists are, but tell me if you know. Idk is she has lots of other social media ik she has IG but I love her so much also bc I have no space anymore in my phone, too many memes and pics like these
Warnings/Information: Harry Potter, this takes place in Deathly Hallows (Part 2), is when Harry, Hermione, and Ron go in to look for Rowena Ravenclaw’s diadem in the Room of Requirement and Draco and Crabbe and the other guy come in, modified canon stuff, mildly nonconsensual but also consensual idk?, Draco Malfoy x Harry Potter, gay shit, gay smut, two men doing sexual things, gay gay gay gay gay, kinda angsty/saddish at the end, and warning: IT’S LIKE, LONG, SO YEAH XD, also the indentation is fucked up because I copied and pasted it from Google Docs because I don’t trust Quotev not to delete my shit again.
FINAL WARNING: THIS IS SMUTTTTTTTTTT OKAYYYYYYY? OKAAAAAAAY.
Also I don’t own Harry Potter. Obviously. Or Drarry would be canon af.
An Even Exchange
Harry’s face lit up with a victorious smile as he fiddled with the diadem, caressing the metal and feeling his heart leap. He was now so close to being one step closer to killing Voldemort
Suddenly, he felt as though he, Ron, and Hermione weren’t alone anymore… He turned around, letting the diadem fall back into the box, and met Malfoy’s gaze.
“Well, well,” murmured the blonde. “What brings you here, Potter?”
Harry straightened himself up. “I could ask you the same,” he responded.
“You have something of mine,” Draco stated “I’d like it back”
“What’s wrong with the one you have?” Harry retorted passively, gesturing towards the wand Malfoy held in his hand, pointed at him.
“It’s my mother’s. Powerful… but it’s… not the same. Doesn’t quite… understand me. Know what I mean?” Draco’s words hit Harry deeper than Harry meant to let them go. His own wand had been splintered to pieces earlier in the year when Voldemort’s snake, Nagini, had attacked Hermione and him in Godric’s Hallow.
“Well too bad, Malfoy. I won it from you, so it’s only fair that I keep it,” Harry responded finally.
Malfoy’s face twisted into a frown, but then softened slightly, a smirk making his lips turn upward. “Fine then, Potter. I’ll just have to take something else.”
Harry laughed, amused. “What else could you possibly take, Malfoy?” The words slipped from his lips incredulously.
Malfoy didn’t respond. “Crabbe, Blaise! Get Granger and Weasley out of here.”
Almost instantly the four afore-mentioned people were fighting, shooting hexes and curses at each other. In the midst of all the chaos, Harry was caught by surprise as Draco quickly hexed him, grabbing him by the collar and dragging him away from his friends.
The moment Harry recovered from being stupefied he began struggling against Draco. “G-Get off me!” he growled.
“Accio wand,” Malfoy muttered.
Harry’s wand flew out of his pocket, into Malfoy’s awaiting hand, which tucked it into his pocket. Before he could protest, however, Malfoy was pushing him backwards. Harry landed on something soft: a bed. Wait. A bed? That surely hadn’t been there before. Why would a bed be in the Room of Requirement? There was no need for a bed…
And that’s when he looked up to see the smirk on Malfoy’s face. “I’ll just have to take you, Potter.”
Harry’s eyes widened at the dangerous implication the Slytherin’s words held.
“You don’t mean… Malfoy…!” Harry sputtered out the other’s name, his cheeks flushing rather quickly.
“Ah, shut it Potter, it’s not like you’ve never imagined this.”
Harry’s mouth opened, then shut. It wasn’t like he could deny it. He mustn’t tell lies, and to say that he’d never wanked off to Draco’s incredibly handsome face would be a complete and utter lie.
Malfoy was removing his shirt now, undoing his green tie and tossing it aside carelessly when it was loose. His other free hand held Potter’s wrists above his head. He was straddling Harry, his hips settled on top of the Gryffindor’s crotch and his legs keeping strong control over Harry’s ankles, making sure he wouldn’t kick.
All the while, Harry stared at Malfoy, unable to think straight. Draco’s elegant fingers popped open the buttons of his own shirt.
“Fulgari,” Draco murmured, pointing his wand at Harry’s wrists. Harry’s wrists were instantly bound in shining ropes, and now Malfoy was free to shrug off his shirt, throwing it to the right.
Harry jerked, his mind being yanked back to reality rather quickly as he heard some curses being shouted in the distance, Ron and Hermione’s voices standing out.
Before Harry could even turn to Draco to say something along the lines of ‘let me go!’, Draco had muttered a silencing charm, and all was quiet once more. Harry’s mouth opened, but then snapped shut as Draco’s nimble fingers skittered down Harry’s shirt, undoing buttons along the way.
“Malfoy, stop,” Harry hissed through his teeth as the large field of skin littered with bits of sparse, dark hair was exposed.
“Yeah? Why?” came the response. Draco’s fingers were twisting the hair gently
“B-Because,” was the half-assed answer.
Malfoy laughed, amused. “Yeah, right, Potter. Maybe if you had a good reason I’d actually give it a thought, eh?”
His fingers found Harry’s nipples, and now they were tormenting them, sending little sparks of something throughout Harry’s body. Harry bit his lip rather harshly.
“Scared, Potter? Scared of me defiling you?” He paused, his eyebrow quirking upwards. “Or perhaps, you’re scared of the noises you’ll make while I’m fucking you?”
It was a rhetorical question; Malfoy wasn’t seeking any answers. His words, however, had caused Harry to flush a deep red and bite his lip even harder as Draco dipped down to suck on one of Harry’s sensitive buds.
Harry’s head thudded back against the pillow. He was breathing too heavily, getting too caught up in the moment. Don’t get hard, don’t get hard, don’t get hard, he repeated to himself in his mind, reciting the mantra but in vain. Don’t get hard, fuck, you’re getting hard, it’s failing, maybe he won’t notice…
Alas, but with Malfoy’s position on Harry, his hips perfectly aligned with the other’s hips, he could feel the way that Harry’s pants were tighter than they used to be, could feel the growing bulge. Harry glanced down at Malfoy, his breath hitching when he realized that the blond was smirking back up at him.
He didn’t even notice the way that Draco subtly scooted backwards, the way that his hand was snaking downwards at a rather alarming pace, until he felt the button on his pants be popped open.
“Merlin,” Harry whispered, the words almost coming out as a whine.
Next thing he knew, the zipper was coming down as well, and then in a blur his pants were gone. His maroon boxers were strained, and Harry panted slowly as he stared steadily up and nowhere else.
It was quiet for a moment, and so Harry gasped as his boxers were brought down sharply and quickly without any fair warning. He closed his eyes, his face scarlet, as waves of humiliation thrummed through him. He refused to look Malfoy in the eye while he was in such a vulnerable state.
“Want me to stop now, Potter? Because your prick says otherwise,” Malfoy’s voice rang out.
Harry trembled as Malfoy’s slightly cold, smooth hand wrapped around him, jerking him off at an agonistically slow pace. The brunette wanted to say that he wanted Draco to stop, he really did, except if he did, it would be a lie and both of them knew it.
The slow pace started gaining speed, getting a bit quicker, and Harry’s jerking breathing morphed into a series of breathy pants and gasps. “M-Merlin,” Harry whispered again, his hips moving against his will.
Then it all stopped, and Harry let out a whimper of disappointment without even realizing it.
“Look at me, Harry,” Draco demanded. Harry grit his teeth, his arousal spiking at the use of his first name. “Look at me,” he repeated when Harry shook his head adamantly.
“Harry, if you don’t look at me I’m not going to let you come,” Draco warned.
“Bloody hell,” Harry groaned quietly, slowly letting his eyes flutter open, meeting Malfoy’s grayish blue gaze with his own, greenish blue eyes.
“That’s a good lad,” Draco praised, his lips turning upwards in a smile.
Before Harry could come up with a retort, Draco’s lips were on his own. Harry’s mouth fell open in shock and Draco moaned softly as he shoved his tongue into Harry’s mouth. Harry was trying not to think about how good Malfoy’s lips felt against his own, of how soft his skin was and how wet his tongue was as it explored Harry’s awaiting cavern. It proved to be an impossible task.
He started gently and instinctively kissing back, a hint of shyness evident in the way he did so. His lips parted again as Malfoy’s hands snaked downwards again, once again taking hold of his erect cock and stroking it at a rhythmic, even pace.
Harry started succumbing to the pleasure, his hips thrusting upwards at an erratic pace with no rhythm at all, and he whined childishly as the touch slowed. He stopped though, when he saw that Malfoy’s hands had instead gone to his own pants, undoing the button and sighing in relief as the tension was lessened slightly. For the first time, Harry realized how tight Malfoy’s pants had been, and as Draco ditched the pants, his eyes traveled down the Slytherin’s body without being able to help it.
Potter’s trance was broken with Malfoy’s voice, causing him to start to attention. “Enjoying the view from down there, Potter?” he drawled, a hand slipping beneath the hem of his boxers.
He slid the boxers down confidently (or at least, if he had any worries he hid them quite well) and Harry knew that Malfoy was smirking down at him, reveling in the look on Harry’s face, but he didn’t care. All he knew was that Malfoy was hot. His cock wasn’t any less beautiful than the rest of his body, and it matched the rest of him beautifully.
Malfoy was a masterpiece.
All these romantic thoughts were thrown from his mind as he realized Malfoy had ducked down to start kissing at his chest again. He lingered a little at Harry’s nipples before licking and sucking and nipping his way up to the brunette’s neck and then stopped to loiter there. Harry let out a quiet sort of gasp which was magnified to a moan as Draco straddled Harry once more, his hips matching up with Harry’s and causing their cocks to slide against each other in the most pleasurable way.
Malfoy was unabashedly moaning, vibrations traveling up his neck. He bit down slightly, making Harry’s back arch in a painful pleasure, before Malfoy’s lips made their way up Harry’s jaw and finally landing at their destination on the other’s lips.
The feeling of Draco thrusting and rubbing against him while he pleasurably abused his lips with his own was incredible. Harry’s mind wasn’t sure where to go and what to think; all he knew was that this felt amazing.
He was so caught up in the pleasure that he didn’t even see the way one of Malfoy’s hands was caressing his thigh, dangerously traveling between his legs slowly. The feeling of a nimble finger prodding at his entrance was enough to jerk him back to reality, and Harry jolted backwards nervously. He glanced up at Malfoy, who had broken the kiss, and found himself oddly comforted by the gentle smile that the blonde was giving him.
“Don’t worry about it Potter, I’ll make you feel good…” the Slytherin murmured in a low, lusty tone.
This time, as Draco pushed a finger into him, Harry didn’t stop him. Instead, he took a deep breath and lay back, relaxing. The Gryffindor wasn’t exactly a complete stranger to this feeling. He had gotten a little curious a couple times, and it had just… happened, he supposed, while he was having a little time to himself. But someone else doing it? And Malfoy, for that matter? This felt completely different, and a lot more pleasurable…
Malfoy had added another finger, now scissoring them and curling them and stretching him in the most divine way, searching… searching for the spot that would make Potter see stars…
Harry’s back arched suddenly, and a rush of air escaped his lips, forming the word ‘Malfoy’ as he did so. Harry had tried, but never quite found, this place within him. And now that Draco had found it, he wasn’t stopping at relentlessly pressing up against it with, now, three fingers.
The brunette’s hips were thrusting forward, essentially doing the task of fucking himself upon Malfoy’s fingers. His head lay back against the pillow, his eyes closed in bliss.
But then his eyes flew open as the fingers left him. Malfoy wasn’t replacing them with something better, bigger, and Harry whined in protest.
“Merlin, please, M-Malfoy,” he panted, his hips left thrusting against air.
“Please what?” Draco responded oh-so innocently, a smirk playing at his dainty lips.
“Y-You know what,” Harry responded with a huff.
“Ah, but I can assure you that I don’t know what,” came the teasing reply.
“Fuckin’ hell,” the Gryffindor hissed.
“My, such language from the chosen one,” Malfoy smiled, running his fingers across Harry’s lips. “Beg for it, Potter.”
Harry’s lips set in a firm line, and he shook his head. His pride was so far gone at this point, but he still had a shred of self-respect and he did not want to beg for Malfoy’s cock. His beautiful, pale, hard, delicious…
“I want you,” he murmured weakly.
“In…. in me…”
“What in you?”
“Your… m-merlin, Draco, you know what I want!” Harry burst out, exasperated and embarrassed.
“Yes, but I’m not going to give it to you until you assure me that you want it,” Malfoy responded slyly.
“You can’t m-make me.”
The Slytherin hummed in response, his head lowering. Harry’s breath hitched: Draco’s lithe tongue had darted out and lapped up the pre-cum beading at the tip of Harry’s cock and was now forming little circles around the tip.
Sparks like electricity were rushing down to his groin, and his hips jerked upwards. Malfoy relaxed his throat, going down deeper on Harry, who let out a high-pitched whimper.
Harry was utterly defeated. Having Malfoy sucking him like so was heavenly, but Draco knew what Harry really wanted… to come with Malfoy inside him, filling him up and fucking him into the bed.
“Dracoooo,” he moaned.
“Hm?” came the response, sending vibrations through Harry’s cock and putting him near the edge.
“F-Fuck me! Please, merlin, fuck me… please, I want to c-come with you in me, please,” the brunette gasped, finally breaking.
Promptly Malfoy’s mouth was removed from Harry’s cock and the blonde was straddling Harry, spreading his legs and using one hand to guide his cock towards Harry’s entrance. The head of Draco nudged at the hole, causing Harry to let out a string of curses and whimper to Malfoy to “Just do it already”, to which Malfoy abided by quickly.
As the head breached Harry’s entrance, Harry struggled to keep his hips under control, knowing if he thrust himself towards Draco it’d be too fast and too big. The Gryffindor did, however, let out a strangled moan. He looked upwards, seeing Malfoy’s head tipped back in pleasure, his bleached hair falling in just the right positions, his eyes closed and his lip caught between his teeth as beads of sweat trickled down his body. Malfoy was the perfect picture of what pleasure looked like, and Harry’s eyes couldn’t help but to travel down his body, his mouth agape in awe of Draco’s beauty.
He let his hips move forward slowly, jolts of pleasure going straight for his cock as Malfoy filled him. He felt himself gradually opening up to welcome Draco’s hardness willingly. The pain was little, the pleasure vast, and he scooted forward more to fill himself up more, needing more of Malfoy in him. Then he slid back, letting instinct take over, and began fucking himself on Draco slowly at first, then faster. Malfoy let him do the work at first, partially unable to do anything for a moment as he was full of shock and intense pleasure, and then he started thrusting his hips into Harry. Both of them let out long-awaited groans and moans, their voices mingling into one. Harry’s fingers at first clenched the sheets, but then found comfort in holding onto Malfoy’s arms, which were planted on either side of Harry.
The Gryffindor hissed in unadulterated pleasure as the thrusts sped up steadily. Draco jerked, a strangled moan escaping his lips. Malfoy stopped abruptly, panting heavily and clearly trying to regain control of himself.
“Fuck, Harry, don’t d-do that…” he stuttered out.
Potter’s hips gently continued thrusting up against Draco, who whimpered in pleasure and squeezed his eyes shut.
“Do what…?” the brunette responded, mildly confused but smirking.
Oh. So Draco was affected by hissing, was he?
“So oh-so perfect Draco Malfoy has a weakness, hm?” Harry let the Parseltongue slither from his lips easily, and Draco positively mewled… Harry chuckled. “You don’t even know what I’m saying yet you’re still so affected… I could be reciting potions ingredients for all you know, yet you’d still be getting off…”
“H-Harry…! Stop, please… fuck, I’ll come…” Malfoy’s hips jerked and his body trembled, tensing.
Harry obliged, chuckling lowly. Malfoy’s eyes opened, a mild glare but much lust hidden within them. “How long has that been a thing?” he prompted, subtly drawing out his S’s.
“Since… s-second year…” came the reply.
Harry’s face turned a red comparable to the rubies within the hilt of Godric Gryffindor himself’s sword. “That long…?” he whispered, half to himself.
“F-Fuck off,” Malfoy growled.
Harry swiveled his hips, and the growl swiftly shifted into a whimper. Potter was in control, and both he and Draco were aware of this fact.
“Come on, don’t stop…” Harry hissed out, thrusting his hips so Malfoy would get the idea despite the fact that he didn’t verbally understand Harry’s words. “Fuck me!”
Oh, and Draco did. The thrusts sped up quickly and soon the air was filled with the moans and gasps of the two young men.
Harry’s head lay back, his calloused fingers grasping at Malfoy’s own delicate ones as he lay with his mouth open, eyes closed.
“H-Harry… Parseltongue…” Draco stuttered out in a whisper.
When Harry opened his eyes to gaze at Draco, his face was contorted with pleasure, his hair damp with sweat.
“Come for me, Malfoy…”
Malfoy whimpered and came, his hips jerking one last time as he panted heavily, his eyes closing.
When he’d come down from his high, he pulled out gently, before leaning down.
“You haven’t come,” he observed, watching as Harry touched himself, giving himself long strokes. “I’ll fix that, love…”
And Harry didn’t even have time to process the fact that Draco had just addressed him as ‘love’… ‘love’, for Merlin’s sake… because Draco was prying Harry’s hands from the unsatiated cock and replacing them with something better, more… His lips were opening…
Harry welcomed the familiar feeling of Draco sucking him, gasping but feeling terribly empty. Malfoy, thank Merlin, seemed to sense this by the way that Harry’s legs spread a bit, and started fingering him, massaging his prostate gently but just enough to make him see stars as he hit the edge.
“M-Malfoy…” Harry whispered as he came into the mouth that belonged to the name he’d just let loose from his own lips.
The blonde swallowed, licking his lips, before hastily casting the countercurse to undo the silvery ropes around Harry’s wrists, then laying down somewhat nervously beside the Gryffindor.
The two just lay there beside each other quietly, not exchanging any words.
For just having received the best sex of his life, Harry couldn’t help but feel a bit broken inside…
Malfoy and Harry were on opposite sides, you see… It was incredibly and painfully likely that this would only be a one time thing. Yet seeing as how this was the case, Harry didn’t get up and run off… this was why Harry was laying here, his hand now tracing Malfoy’s hand.
When Regulus first kissed him, Blaise’s first instinct was to pull away.
However, his body didn’t give him the chance to as he felt himself melting away into the kiss. It was deep, it was pulling, and he seemed to drown in it, to lose himself as Regulus bit onto his lips –
And then, he wondered, in the back of his mind, of how some other person’s kiss would’ve tasted like. Trembling slightly as they finally parted, Blaise croaked out, “I need to go.”
Regulus looked hurt, his dark eyes widening slightly, and ran a frustrated hand across his dark brown hair, and the resemblance made Blaise’s panic rise a notch.
“What’s wrong?“ Hermione Granger frowned concernedly at him, raising her head from some book she found in the library of Grimmauld 12. “What happened?“
Two months ago – or maybe it’s 20 years later– the two of them had accidentally activated a weird time-travelling pocket-watch when they’d been together in a room in the Malfoy Manor. After Voldemort’s winning and Potter’s death, she’d been a captive at the Manor and he’d been assigned to watch over her that day. With nothing better to do, Blaise had curiously looked around the impressive collection of antiques of the room and occasionally picking one up to examine.
And then after opening up the lid of the pocket-watch, they had landed themselves in 1978.
“I –” Blaise hesitated, unsure of what to say.
“Did you two kiss?“
“How did you –“
“I’ve seen how he looks at you,” she said, before adding softly, “and how you look at him.”
“Perhaps,“ Blaise allowed, “well … okay. The thing is,” he swallowed nervously and confessed, “I wasn’t thinking of him when I look at him.“
No. When Blaise looked at Regulus, when he heard him unhappily complaining about his family, of the pressure his parents put on him – when Blaise saw Regulus’s thoughtful eyes, and how he ran his hand across his dark brown hair when he was frustrated – he was thinking about how all these reminded him of Theo. Theo, who had died on a mission the Dark Lord sent him not long after the final battle.
“Oh,“ Hermione blinked, processing all this and realizing what Blaise meant. She hesitated for a moment, before offering, “I’m sorry.“
Blaise shrugged, attempting at nonchalance but he suspected he was failing. “I never got the chance to – you know – to tell him. My feelings.”
“I’m sorry,“ she said again, her voice gentle.
“I’m awful, aren’t I?“ he sighed, gazing at the ceiling. “Kissing Regulus when I – when it’s –”
“It’s … understandable,“ she murmured, cutting across him softly, trying to find a way to console him but she’d never been good at relationship advice. “I mean … like … so you probably … have a type.”
He raised an eyebrow at her, slightly amused at her awkwardness despite his misery. His mouth quirked to the side as he asked drily, “Well, I don’t see you kissing Lucius Malfoy, do I?”
The quill she was holding dropped down to the floor as she gaped at him, “Excuse me?”
He smirked, suddenly feeling more cheered up by her reaction, “Oh Hermione – do you honestly think all the Slytherins are as oblivious as Draco?”
The dress aside I want to send a personal ‘fuck you’ to Emma Watson for looking like she’s literally annoyed in that scene. Also a ‘fuck you’ to the director, whoever cast her, and whoever chose the costume designer.
Emma Watson acts like she literally hates Beauty And The Beast and she’s put upon to be in it. It just seems ungrateful but above that literally shits on the ‘magic’ of the fairytale that she always looks like she’s at the DMV and a stranger just hit on her. She literally always looks so offended someone tell her she’s not Hermione anymore.
FredxHermione "I wonder... maybe a buzzcut won't be too terrible" (unsolicited prompt, i know. but it's my birthday so I thought I'd try my luck :D
“Oh come on,
Georgie! It doesn’t look that bad,” Fred attempted to comfort his brother, but as
much as he might try there was no stopping the chuckles bubbling from within.
His twin looked hilarious.
George tugged at his eyebrows, feeling the length of them run all the way down
to his shoulders. “Bloody growth serum.”
“At least we know
it works now,” said Lee. “People will be clamoring to regrow their hair easily
and without the hassle of applying the usual potions. It even smells better,
“You do it next
time then, if you love it so much,” said George. “I’m going to cut it off. All
of it.” He slammed the door to the bathroom behind him, leaving Fred and Lee
alone to grin at his behaviour on their beds.
“All right, might
as well have some fun with this batch before George decides to toss it all down
the drain,” said Fred. He gestured to Lee. “Help me get it on.”
Down in the common
room, the rest of the Gryffindors gasped and laughed at the sight of Lee and
Fred coming down the stairs, twirling around and making their long hair flow
from side to side.
“Angelina, how do
you feel having me rock these locks better than you?”
Chaser looked him up and down, her nose scrunching up as he proceeded to dance
around her, throwing his locks in her face at every opportunity. “I will hex
you ‘till there’s no tomorrow, Jordan.”
laughed at that sight, Fred had found his sister sitting on the sofa by the
fire. “How do you feel, Gin? Knowing that I’m now the fairer one?”
“Go away,” grunted
Ginny, pushing him to the opposite direction. He laughed and let himself be
until now had buried her nose deeper than usual in her book, sighed at being
unable to escape notice. She let the book fall to her lap and faced Fred sitting
next to her.
“Hi,” she said.
continued. “How do you feel being in
the presence of this? Jealous?”
answer at first, busy rolling her eyes and displaying her obvious annoyance at
his antics. But after a few seconds she looked and her expression shifted. Her
lips thinned the tiniest amount and a frown grew in place.
“Yes,” she said.
Before Fred had any chance to respond, she rose and escaped through the door
leading to the girls’ dormitory.
“Well done, Fred,”
said Ginny. “Hermione gets comments on her hair almost daily. Maybe think
before you speak next time.” She left him alone, following her friend to no
doubt tell her how stupid he was.
And he was.
George is missing this,” said Lee, seating himself next to Fred. “What’s up with
Fred pouted. “I
wonder … maybe a buzz cut won’t be too terrible …”
“Are you mad?!
This is the best thing to happen since—“
people should be happy with the way they look already. Don’t they know that . .
.doesn’t she …”
As Fred struggled
for words, Lee took out his wand. “All right, let’s do this. I can’t take you
being pitiful mess. Off it goes!”
back to the present, Fred inched away from his friend, holding his hands up, “Wait,
no—Lee, mate, I’ll just do it myself! It’s fine!”
“Bollocks to that,
it’ll be quick!”
Remember what happened last time!”
regrew that piece of skin for me, it wasn’t a big deal—now, sit still!”
She knew it, her teachers knew it, the whole damn castle
knew it. She was quick-witted, intelligent, and, most of all, observant.
Hermione Jean Granger noticed and put things together that others simply missed.
Hermione noticed the way that Harry Potter was becoming
unhealthily obsessed with Draco Malfoy. She noticed that he didn’t always speak
of his Slytherin counterpart in venomous tones anymore, either.
Hermione also noticed the way that this very same Draco
Malfoy was constantly staring at her dear friend in class, like he was trying
to burn holes through Harry’s poor skull.
She thought she might know what was going on, even if the
involved parties did not.
Unfortunately for most people, Hermione Jean Granger also
had no qualms about interfering where she thought her meddling might be
Draco didn’t feel right.
He set the goblet of pumpkin juice down, wondering if maybe
he was getting sick. He wouldn’t be surprised. It wasn’t like he wasn’t under
an exuberant amount of stress or
Kill Albus Dumbledore,
Draco. I want it done before the year is complete.
No big deal. Just your normal, run-of-the-mill command from
your typical, mass-murdering master.
Draco shuddered, pushing his untouched plate of food away from him. Crabbe eyed him confusedly. Considering that this was the manner in which Crabbe
looked at most things most of the time, Draco was hardly bothered. “I think I need to lie
down,” he muttered. “I’m—I’m skiving off Charms. Tell Flitwick I’m sick.”
He didn’t wait for a response before standing. Draco grabbed
his bag and was halfway down the table when he abruptly collided with someone.
“Hey—what the hell,
Draco’s bag fell to the floor, spilling the contents
everywhere. Hermione Granger stepped away demurely, making Draco scowl even
further. It was like she had run into him on purpose! “Watch we’re you’re going, you stupid—”
“Watch your mouth,
Malfoy.” Ron Weasley instantly stepped in, his hand hovering over his pocket
where he assuredly kept his wand. Because it was never just one of them, was
it? The Golden Trio was infuriatingly
“Ron…” Granger hissed the word like an owner might scold a
dog. And just like a dog, Weasley lowered his hand and stepped away, though he
kept his furious glare fixed on Draco.
Perhaps Draco would have been the one to draw his wand
instead, if his attention hadn’t been so suddenly and horrifically derailed.
Potter was bending over and—and touching his things, and—
Some part of Draco’s mind knew that this should have
bothered him very deeply and on many different levels, but it didn’t.
It was like the entire Hall just melted away into oblivion.
The Headmaster he was supposed to be murdering, the faculty and staff, the
countless students who were about to bear witness. They all faded into nothing
as Harry James Potter handed him a stack of books and quills.
“—just take your stuff, Malfoy, and—”
“I love you.”
There was a short pause in which absolutely no one breathed.
Draco thought that Weasley might have scoffed something incredulous, but he
He wasn’t paying attention to anyone else.
Harry’s beautiful, green eyes widened in shock before his
lips parted and he laughed, breathy and flustered. “Ex…cuse me?” he said in a
high, concerned tone. “What—”
“I love you,” Draco repeated. The entire table filled with
Slytherin students behind him turned in their seats. The whole Hall seemed to
be fall silent, but Draco hardly noticed. “I love you, I-I think I have for a
while, I just—I never realized it before right now.”
Harry’s face slid into one of downright disbelief. Draco
knocked the books from his arms which he had just gathered up for him so that
he could grasp Harry’s hands. “I love you, you gorgeous, reckless idiot. I love
you. I love you!”
He was shouting. Harry turned a brilliant shade of red,
seemingly paralyzed by Draco’s very loud and traumatizing confession. Draco
decided that it felt good to shout. “I love you!” he yelled again, laughing. Giddy with emotion, he turned towards the Hall at large and declared,
“I love Harry Potter!”
Then, without even thinking it through, Draco turned his
attention back to the stunned boy in front of him and crashed his lips over
his, passionately kissing Harry Potter for the entirety of the school to
…Maybe it was just the drama of the moment, but later, when
Draco found himself in Slughorn’s office with various antidotes being shoved
down his throat, he most definitely recalled
that Potter had kissed him back.
“You were certainly under the influence of something, my boy,” Slughorn confirmed
morbidly, once Draco felt that he was himself again. Draco wiped his mouth with
the back of his sleeve, his mortification swiftly turning into rage. “But you should be right as rain,
…Not that being cured of his temporary ailment could
possibly undo the damage that had been done.
Draco was furious, venomous, murderous. Potter had used a love
potion on him! Surely in some ill-conceived attempt to figure out what he
was working on; Potter had been tailing him for weeks, now…
And he’d shouted he loved
him, in front of the entire school… And kissed
Fuming, Draco set off to find Potter without so much as a
‘thank you’ to Slughorn. “That bastard,” he seethed under his breath. “I’ll
kill him, I’ll—oh, for fuck’s sake,
Granger! Watch where—”
“I did it.”
For Hermione Granger had just turned a corner, walking right
into him—again—like she had just been
waiting outside of Slughorn’s office
for him to emerge.
“I slipped you the potion,” she said quickly. She had both
of her hands raised on either side of her face, looking defensive. “It was me.”
Draco stared, dumbfounded. Unlike Potter, he was not
inherently terrible at potions (the fact that Potter had become so inexplicably
skilled at the subject this year was clearly just favoritism on Slughorn’s part…
the old walrus), and therefore was very distraught at what she was saying.
“But… but if you brewed the
“It wasn’t amortentia,”
she said huffily, like Hermione Granger would never stoop to such things. “It
was a confidence elixir, Malfoy. A potion to boost your assurance
exponentially. It’s related to Felix Felicis, though not as powerful. You
should look it up. Anyway, I thought you could use a bit of… encouragement.”
She smile brightly before sauntering off. Draco watched her
go, far too stunned in that moment to say or do anything.
“Oh.” She stopped suddenly, looking over her shoulder with a
sly smile on her face. Draco was very glad that the hallway was empty. “By the
way… he’s obsessed with you.”
Then she left, a bit of a bounce in her step.
Draco hated that, rather than continue to be furious or
thirsty for vengeance… Well, he just couldn’t stop smiling.
Thank you so much for the prompt - I hope you like this! 💕
Hesitant Kiss - The type of kiss where their lips brush against each other’s a few times, breath fanning across each other’s faces as one waits for the other to make a move.
Ron supposed it was his turn to make a move now, wasn’t it? It had to be. She had been the one to kiss him earlier that morning (Merlin, was it still the same day? It was all blurring together), the one to launch herself upon him in the middle of an active battle, right in front of Harry - yes, Ron decided, it was on him now. He had to be the one to show her that they couldn’t just leave this at one kiss, that he wanted her every single day for the rest of his life. Otherwise, it might be another seven years before the next one.
And so, when Harry left to return the Elder Wand to Dumbledore’s grave, the two of them started walking, silently, back to Gryffindor Tower. His hands were covered in dirt and grime and probably blood - definitely blood - but he still twined his fingers with hers. After everything that had happened, he simply couldn’t see the point in holding back from her anymore.
“Well,” said Hermione as they entered the common room, her voice small and tentative, “I should probably clean up a bit. I’m a bit of a wreck.” She touched her fingers to the ragged, singed-off edges of her hair, her lower lip between her teeth.
Ron gave a tiny shrug. “I always think you look beautiful.” Maybe he was just too exhausted at this point to filter his thoughts.
“Thanks,” she whispered back, her eyes not quite meeting his. She never had been good at accepting compliments that had to do with her appearance and not her intellect. “I’ll, erm, I’ll just meet you back here in a little while.”
Her smile was shaky as she turned toward the girls’ staircase, and for a second Ron thought he might let her go, might wait on it, but then… he had already waited for so long. And he could have lost her today, or at any point over the past year, really, and life was so short. He really didn’t want to let her go anymore.
“Hermione,” he called, making her whirl around. “Hermione, c'mere.”
He stepped toward her, closing the gap, but rather than crush his lips to hers as he so wanted to do, he found himself pulling her into a tight hug, just to feel her heart thudding in her chest, just to smell the smoke on her hair. Her hands fisted around the back of his jacket, holding him in place. She was okay. Even after everything, she was okay, and knowing that was almost enough. Almost.
It was one thing, though, to tell himself that he was going to make the next move, and another to actually do it. She leaned away from him just enough for their eyes to lock; she was so, so close. And was it his imagination, or was she tilting her face up toward his? Watching, mesmerized, as her eyes fluttered shut, Ron dipped his head down to her level. This was the point of no return, he realized. It was exactly as he’d told Harry back in the Room of Requirement: it was now or never.
Hermione’s upper lip just barely grazed against his, her breath puffed gently against his, and even this faintest hint of contact seemed to ignite his skin. A light sigh slipped out of the back of her throat, sounding vaguely like his name, and that was it, it had to happen and it had to be now. It had been nearly seven years of back and forth, of stifled words and sidelong glances and charged silences and now, enough was enough.
Ron claimed her lips, softly, like he feared she might break (even though she was the toughest person he knew), one large hand cradling her face. They fit perfectly, effortlessly together in a way that, were his legs not rapidly turning to jelly, might have made him think they had done this a thousand times. It just felt right, kissing Hermione, in a way nothing else ever had.
With a light little smacking sound, they separated, out of breath and in a stupor. Ron had done it, that thing he’d wanted to do since, oh, forever, he’d actually done it and now there was no going back. Not that he’d ever want to.
Hermione smiled, her lips glistening from rubbing against his (Merlin, he had really kissed her, he wasn’t sure he’d ever get over it), and then rose on tiptoe, kissing him determinedly once again.
after the murder investigation closes, alice lifts the lodge ban from her home. in part because she has years of mothering to make up for, but mostly because ever since sheriff keller found betty, veronica, the jones boy, and archie half dead near the river, betty hasn’t been able to sleep alone. alice figures it’s easier than having her almost seventeen year old climb into her bed every night
when alice wakes up one morning and finds veronica scrambling eggs while betty still sleeps upstairs with a pot of coffee brewed just the way she likes she’ll admit it - she might even be beginning to like the young lodge. even if she’s in her daughters bed more nights than she’s not
she has coffee with hermione a few weeks later, both of them fumbling to figure out what the new hickey on betty’s neck might mean “should we talk to them? set up rules? not let them sleep in the same bed anymore?” hermione shrugs and takes another sip of her coffee. “i don’t think it’ll make a difference.”
they do and it doesn’t. if they aren’t at alice’s, they’re at hermione’s. and alice has dealt with enough forbidden relationships for one lifetime to know when to turn a blind eye to harmless love
it’s for that reason when the school year starts again and betty kisses veronica on the football field in her cheer uniform that alice doesn’t freakout like she might’ve a year before. her and hermione just share a look, roll their eyes, and cheer along with the rest of the crowd when the vixens fall back into formation
Notes: Modern, non-magical Cruel Intentions (1999) cross-over, because I’m here for Draco and Pansy as aristocratic co-dependent siblings of a sort. This kind of got away from me, and it’s probably more convoluted than necessary, but gold star I tried? Hope you like it!
There are certain assumptions about them, conditions they had to have met, considering—a certain myth made, crafted from gossip, or hearsay, or the occasional sighting—fantastical stories with characters bigger than they are—”spoiled and rich and coddled” and “everything comes easy” and “the rules have never applied.” People almost always overlook one vital thing.
They grow up together, beautiful children in their gilded cages of money and shiny things. Childhood is spent curled around the other, learning where the skin is softer so they’d know where to stab—parlor games and paltry experimentations on power plays—“I love you best” and “you’ll always be my favorite” and “you and me, sweetheart”—twining tighter than necessary, tight enough to choke, letting go only when breathing becomes paramount.
They walk with clasped hands, dressed to the nines or barely at all, almost the same person, the flutter of her lashes a reverberation of a chuckle held in his throat. And perhaps Draco is a little more deliberate, a little more practiced and calculated and manufactured, perhaps Pansy needs only to flick her hair over her shoulder for the world to fall at her feet—everything does come easy, but—
The rules have never applied, only because one has the other.
“Come, gentle night; come, loving, black-browed night; Give me my Romeo; and, when I shall die, Take him and cut him out in little stars, And he will make the face of heaven so fine That all the world will be in love with night…” ― William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet.
Summary: Juggie pops the question to the reader to get her attention but as soon as he says those four words he begins to wonder if he actually means it.
A/N; Feedback is always greatly appreciated and I hope you all enjoy. This wasn’t proofread because I typed this up fast before my motivation was gone again.
You were stressing. In fact, you had been stressing since this morning when your best friend, Betty Cooper, had called you and asked you to write an article for the school newspaper on anything you wanted. You just needed it in by next week. Usually, for most people, that would have been no problem. And that was plenty of time for normal writes such as herself and even Jughead, really. But not you. You had asked your boyfriend, Juggie, to meet you at Pop’s to ‘talk’. But really you just hoped he would inspire the best out of you like he usually did when it came to writing.
“Hey, Hermione.” You spoke as soon as you walked into Pop’s, sliding into your usual booth. “Hey, Y/N. Can I get you your usual?” She asked, already walking behind the counter. “That would be great. Thanks.” You smiled slightly before looking down at your hands.
Juggie arrived minutes after you did. You looked up when your head the door open and close and saw him walking towards you. “Hey.” He spoke, taking a seat across from you. “So, what’s up?” He asked, quirking a brow. Suddenly you were distracted by him. Not anything he did in particular- just him. “Y/N?” You were interrupted from your thoughts by the sound of his voice. “Oh, hey.” Why were you so nervous? You took a deep breath before beginning to rant to Juggie. You started with, “You know I absolutely love Betty. But I just…I thought I’d rather come to you for this.” Then you started your ranting- about how you wished you weren’t such a stressful writer, and how you didn’t have the slightest about what you might write. You just wanted to impress Betty enough that she might let you write for the paper more than just once. About five minutes into your rant, you were still on the subject of what your subject might be when Juggie seemed like he needed to say something. But you couldn’t find yourself to stop. You wished you weren’t so damn stressed.
“Will you marry me?” Jughead blurted out, not allowing you to finish your sentence you had currently been on. You stopped. “What?” Jughead paused, too. Suddenly seeming pretty stressed himself. “I got to go.” He quickly slid out of his booth and practically disappeared he ran out the door so fast. You, still in slight shock, stayed where you were and watched as he ran and ran until you couldn’t see him anymore. “Hey, Hermione? I’m going to need another milkshake.”
Hermione, who must’ve heard him pop the question, nodded understandingly and disappeared behind the counter.