#draco edit

[argido]

[gravity-valley]

Draco for dark green!

This is part of a collab I’m doing with @namesaretomainstream called rainbow of moodboards so check them out too!!

[justwilfee]

IDK what to post, so here's my recently made edit with Draco Malfoy :")

Song: Dominic Fike - Mama's Boy

[kakashis-world2022]

Because I know they is a lot of Draco simps so Tom Felton and Draco malfoy

[hogwarts-forever]

Beautiful edit by @aneteeditss

[writtenbywings]

Battle Scars

Pairing: Hermione Granger x Draco Malfoy

Summary: Returning to Hogwarts as a professor, Hermione bitterly encounters Draco Malfoy as the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, throwing everything into chaos.

Hatred and lust slowly begins to burn between them, though only as they recall their final, secret year at Hogwarts.

Chapter word count: 2k

Link: Battle Scars

Type: Slow burn romance

CHAPTER FOUR

There was little I knew about love, though when it came to a new hardback, I was just about curling my toes and batting my lashes.

One of the perks of being accepted academically into Hogwarts was the riverine of literature that came with the title and salary. A luxury for me, and my parchment-savvy fingers– turning over the first crisp page and smelling the deep, musky smell from the spine.

Ah… dust, dark ink and a million old words.

I couldn't understand the new students, and their interest in funny spells and unicorn-hair wands.

Even as an older witch, all I wanted to do was lull in the library with a steaming cup of tea and crookshanks. God bless his furry soul.

I was most displeased when I found it was out of commission, given the new 'malicious potions' section, and its twenty-four hour surveillance. Until they employed a ghost or ghoul stupid enough to watch the library walls, it was a red-zone for any wandering eye.

Including my own.

I thought about this bitterly with my morning coffee, organizing through junk the previous professor had left behind, and the scattered mess of his office quarters. Now, formally mine.

I had etched the gold-plaque Professor Strider off the door, and replaced it kindly with Professor Granger - looped and cursive, with all the welcome of a true writer.

Inside, the walls were a drab and curdled cream– yellowed from age and dusty without the comfort of a feather to bat away the moths. The corners were stacked with unfinished registers, newspapers headlining old troubles (Sirius Black screaming on the front page of a few) and pictures of relatives from Professor Flitwick's previous teaching days. Things of importance, I stored inside a box and took to an old cupboard up in the south west of the castle– beside Hufflepuff's common room and a spiral staircase that led to a high tower. Whilst rubbish I disposed of, and carried all the way to Hagrid's hut where he used it as kindling for the foreseeable winter. Resourceful as ever.

On my way back to my new office, I grabbed a can of 'lush-lush-lavender paint' from the Artist's Quarter on the first floor– famous for the portraits around Hogwarts, and the lively personalities that continue to live through paint stroke and brush flick. Most of these creations were done by Elves, no wonder, and I tried not to pass a brochure on 'S.P.E.W' as I balanced my supplies.

One thing at a time, Hermione. I reminded myself in Ron's voice, now a daily mantra.

Twelve o'clock rolled into early afternoon, and the first coat of lilac was drying quickly with the aid of a few open windows– dust sheets covering the dark wood desk and its marrying old chair.

With the use of a glue gun and a little magic, I managed to decorate everything to the dusky color theme - the upholstered fabrics spreading like a dreamy sky, running from the lounging sofa in the corner, to the shelves where all of my essential hardbacks housed. A crystal lamp filled the room with pinkish light, and the ceiling was enchanted to glitter with stars and the northern lights - aurora borealis.

All in all… it felt as comforting as a cup of tea.

I had dinner with the students in the dining hall, opposed to the teacher's lounge – not feeling adult enough to discuss politics with Hagrid and Minerva just yet – and used this time to get to know a few big personalities in Gryffindor.

The head boy, who had a knack for brushing people up the wrong way with his wit and study ethic, was called Porth Watermaine. A handsome young prodigy who spent most of his time trying to impress the head girl– Valerie Mayson. Ginger haired and fair skinned, she reminded me most of Ginny.

Though that might have been like comparing a bush fire to the devil's inferno.

I chewed through a thick cutlet of gammon and smothered my potatoes in gravy, trying to get a sense of where the outcast group lay – a parallel to my trio, and the friendship that still kept me sane after all of these years. Though sadly, there appeared to be nothing of the kind– not even a specky boy or a ginger accomplice.

Alas, I'd keep an eye out.

I stayed for dessert and handed out itineraries for the foreseeable year, homework days color-coded and mock exams highlighted. The girls enjoyed this, though the boys frowned, asking instead where my 'boyfriend with the scar was.'

"You know," a feisty little lad asked, short enough to reach my knees, "the kid who killed

that evil, bald guy."

Ah, Voldemort… if only you could see the youth of today tremble in fear of you now.

On my way back through the castle, I bid goodnight to a few new faces, and inwardly applauded myself for an eventful day– feeling organized enough to deal with any issue that came my way.

As Draco Malfoy reared a corner, barging into my shoulder and almost taking me down– I cursed myself for being too positive. I hit the wall, staring with dumbfounded eyes as he continued walking, heading straight for the Slytherin common room, his black robes whipping like leather at his heels.

That cloudy eye reflecting all of the nothingness inside of him.

"Watch where you're going!" I exclaimed, not so much as pricking his attention. A few first years shuffled awkwardly around me - as if I had a bubble of thorns keeping them at bay. I swallowed the lump rising in my throat and dispersed, feeling all the happiness drain out. The metaphorical sewer of our memories flowing down the dirt pipes.

Really, what did I ever see in him?

And better yet, what had I done to warrant such anger and malice?

I climbed a staircase and found it gravitating to another, leading me astray from the trail back to my quarters.

"No." I mumbled, as if the steps themselves could understand my pain. I tried not to let my lower lip wobble, all the frustration wanted to find a way out. Unfortunately, I cried when I was angry, and now the tears were welling in my eyes, making everything glassy and blurry.

"Oh dear," One of the portraits tutted, "whoever has got you in such a state, Hermione Granger."

I ducked my head and climbed to the very top of the staircase, almost plunging off into nothing before a corridor clicked into place. With one hurrying step, I disappeared out of sight and ventured down the dark shadows of an unlit hallway, trying to rid my mind of blue eyes and white hair.

I wasn't attempting to make my footsteps quiet, and as I reared the corner to the Slytherin common room, I wanted to scream out in horror.

Really, what good had these enchanted steps ever done? I cursed, recalling the time Harry had been late to class as he was redirected to Professor Sprout's private quarters. It was as if they had some secret intentions to make life miserable!

The impending sound of footsteps came to disarm what was left of my pride, and scouring to see where a quick exit could be, I dove toward a locked door, whipping out my wand.

"Alohomora!" I whispered fiercely, hearing a satisfying click. Before the steps could reach me, I was inside and the door was clicked swiftly shut behind me– all that separated me from misery now.

Even if it wasn't Draco, would it do me any good for a Slytherin student to tell him I was lurking around the corridor? How desperate would I seem… how strange?

Voices came now, surly and loud.

"Though sir, she deserved it!"

"Do you not hear me? I said no, and in the world where I hold the power to your expulsion, that word is final."

My blood ran cold.

Malfoy.

"The boys and I already despise her after what she did, I thought you would understand that."

The footsteps stopped, and now they lingered outside the door.

"Tell me, what has she done to you?"

"She fought for Harry Potter. She fought against Voldemort."

The door slammed, and I fought everything inside of me not to squeal as it cried against its hinges, held only by a lock and my body weight. Draco had pinned the boy against the wood, it seemed.

I could hear the venom in his low voice as he spoke.

"You do not get to talk about a war you weren't involved in, just because your family lineage agrees so. Blood was spilt, decisions were made, and Voldemort died. The fact you speak his name so freely without a flinch proves you have no valid opinion on the subject."

"Sir, I'm sorry, I–"

"Enough. You remove the hex from Miss Granger's office and go to bed before I report this. Do you understand?" He growled through his teeth.

The student, whoever he was, scampered off in a series of pants that told me he was frightened.

As frightened of Draco as we had been of Snape.

What was it about the head of Slytherin inciting fear?

Still, I felt conflicted. Angry for his adamant dislike for me, after everything we had been through, though soft at the thought of him fighting my corner from the shadows.

Another thump hit the door, though this time, it sounded like he was leaning against it– deflated.

I pressed my bare hand to the wood and almost felt the electricity of his presence behind it, closing my eyes.

Malfoy sighed, a long and exasperated sigh.

"I'm going to end up dead before this year is finished." He whispered to himself, as private as a lone thought. I opened my mouth as if his secrecy deserved an answer, though before I could rethink my words, he sauntered off, and the door felt unknowingly cold.

Draco had said those words in my presence once before… though in a much different setting.

At a much different time.

I slumped against the wall and buried my face in my hands.

What was happening?

____________________________

"Hermione, put the book down."

"You don't want to do this."

"Think of the children!"

I burst out in a series of laughs as Ron sat on his knees, holding his palms to the sky as if he were praying to a higher power. Harry held his stomach as he chuckled, leaning back in his chair.

We were in the library, and trying to launch myself out of this funk, I had decided to do a bit of light reading. Ron had placed a bet on how long it would take me to read an actual page, and now he was almost out fifteen silver sickles.

Harry's pockets were jingling already.

"I can't believe you two have put my misery on a payroll." I snickered, leaning against one of the bookshelves. Ron scampered to his knees and crept over, trying to lightly pry the book from under my arm.

"We need entertainment after you know what. You're the best opportunity."

"He's right." Harry agreed.

I willingly let go of the book, and Ron lifted it over his head victoriously.

Harry's head fell back with a groan.

"Don't pay him yet. We still have tomorrow." I giggled, trailing out of sight. I shook my head in amusement as I heard them bicker amongst themselves, wandering to the back of the library where Crimes in Herbology sat. The lamps were dim here, and the tables were vacant– a known kissing spot for anyone old enough to know about it, with initial engravings marking the wooden book shelves. A little heart tracing each one.

Thankfully today, all was quiet– quiet enough that I flinched as I collided with a body, scattering the three books I had picked up to the ground.

"Sorry," I gasped, instinctually squatting to the ground to collect them. The body didn't drop down to help, though as I fumbled those three editions back into my arms, I came face to face with a pair of knees, and then a midriff, shoulders and jaw as I stood.

Malfoy.

"Oh, please." I sighed. "Are you following me here now as well?"

"Maybe I am." He smiled a crooked, amused smile.

The bruising had eased him from his face, though there was still a yellowish-green beneath his eyes.

"What do you want, Malfoy?"

He canted his head to the side from the exasperation in my voice, and his eyes lit with a game-like leisure.

"I can't talk to you in public now?"

"You call the kissing-corner in the library a public place for conversation?"

"I call it a good place to make a negotiation."

"A negotiation?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.

He found my irritation amusing, and approached it like an invitation.

"I want to tutor you." He proposed.

I almost fell over in hysterics, though something in his voice told me he was serious.

"I don't need a piggy-back for my exams, thanks." I scowled, and placed back my books. I would get them from Professor Mcgonagall's private stock. This wasn't worth the effort.

I turned, though found myself rooted in place as Malfoy stepped to the side, brushing his body comfortably in front– close enough to feel the heat in his breath, the icy-bite from his blue eyes.

"I know you have all of the world figured out, though I mean this sincerely. You need a friend who has dealt with the after-effects of trauma, and not Harry Potter who has been the center of attention for seven years or Ron Weasley who has a million siblings to dry his tears at night. You're alone, you're an outcast, and I'm offering to tutor you in controlling your emotions."

This time, I did laugh– a hard snort that could be confused with disgust. Though in actuality, it was bother. I was bothered by how ridiculously true that was.

"I have my friends." I retorted.

"And I have mine." He said, his voice even lower. "Though that doesn't mean they stop me from killing a first year' with the cruciatus curse."

The words were like a knife to my chest, and I looked at him with the purest form of regret my mudblood heart could muster. Regret from almost doing the unthinkable… regret from almost hurting someone.

"Why?" I asked, as quiet as it was sinful to admit what I'd done.

"I'm going to end up dead before this year is finished, anyway." He remarked. "I might as well help someone before my time is up."

I watched in disbelief as he stepped away, creating a divide between us. He reached a finger forward and nudged my chin upwards– as if to stay positive, and as if to remind me he wasn't the bad guy. That after all we'd been through… he was as much blood, bone and magic as anyone here.

And he too, held regrets.

"Slytherin Tower. Tomorrow. Nine o'clock. Come alone."

He left me standing next to Wayward Herbology and Killer Weeds, volume one through five– and for the first time, I felt myself warm to him.

[cyprus-green]

😩😩😩😩

[hoeforsirius]

Just a little something i made a few months back

[w0rds-l0ver]

might have done something... sorry :/

[ablueboombox-be]

DRACO MALFOY - Into the Night (In Noctem) | Harry Potter & The Half-Blood Prince (Tom Felton Edit)

[argido]

[msmalfoyyyyyy]

So sad brooo im still crying

#draco #malfoy #sad

[hogwarts-forever]

Wands up 🪄