Even If It Was Him
Shameless Dramione one shot set years after the battle. Canon Divergent (obv). Smut with some plot.
Warnings: sexual content, f!ngering, pINv sex, alcohol consumption, discussion of divorce, strong language. Minors DNI!!!!!
Word count: 5.5k
Can be found here if you prefer to bookmark on AO3!
It had been years since Hermione had ventured into a pub on her own, much less the Three Broomsticks. Maybe it was pathetic, having a drink all by herself, but she felt as though she had earned it after the day she had been through. Or perhaps, after the entire year she had endured.
There really was no right way to describe the feelings she felt after her divorce was finalized. Both sad and relieved, memories swirled in her mind as she walked down the path to the entrance of the pub. The adventures and triumphs she had shared with Ron, the regret she had early into their marriage, the way she stopped loving him in the past year. And while Ron agreed that their marriage had deteriorated, he was less ready to sign the papers than she was. Still, with no children or major assets, she was able to leave the marriage in a fairly clean manner.
The Three Broomsticks was rather empty, on account that it was a Tuesday past 10 p.m., but it was perfect for Hermione. She sat herself at the bar, ordering a Fire Whiskey with a cup of water to thin it out. The liquid was warm, filling her chest as she drank it. Sighing, she set the cup down and looked around the bar, thankful that she didn't really see anyone she knew. Harry would be upset if he knew that she was by herself, drinking alone, but what would he do about it? Hermione knew that she would never be able to maintain her friendship with Harry in the same way now that she and Ron had split. How could she face Ginny after leaving her brother?
The whiskey continued to be nursed, the cup slowly emptying, and Hermione felt more sad than anything. Her surroundings became dull, save for the occasional opening of the pub door and the bartender filling pints. Once the cup was empty, she flagged someone down from behind the counter and ordered another one. A new glass full of the golden liquid was presented to her, and she gladly sipped it. The second glass brought emotions with it, and she felt this sense of regret wash over her. Not so much because of Ron, but because she tied her identity to him for so many years. Now she was alone, and she had no real plans beyond continuing her work at St. Mungos. Her small flat on the high street was lonely and dark, a mirror for what she felt inside. Dropping her head into her hands, she let out one shaky breath in a desperate attempt to calm herself.
"Granger?"
Hermione whipped her head up and turned around, not sure if the voice was who she thought it was. But there he stood, standing in the middle of the bar, looking at her with this odd expression that she couldn't quite place.
Draco Malfoy.
It had been years since she had laid eyes on him, since she had spoken to him or heard anything about him. But he was there, in front of her, looking tired and worn out. His blonde hair looked less than perfect, signaling that he was either going through something or that he had stopped putting as much effort into his appearance since school. There was still this regal air of confidence, as if he knew he was better than everyone around him, that wafted from his body language. He towered over her as she sat at the bar, staring at her as she grieved.
"Draco," Hermione said, mimicking his stand-offish language. Truthfully, she didn't know what else to say to him. What more could she say, really, after everything?
"Where's your husband?" he asked, as if Ron was her keeper. She scowled, feeling brave with the liquor in her system. "I don't have a husband," she said, practically spitting the words out.
There is a shift in his expression, not one of softness or kindness, but of understanding. Hermione notices it and rolls her eyes, turning back to her drink at the bar. Draco emerges next to her, ordering something she doesn't recognize. She watches as he is presented with a glass of a clear liquid, with an odor so strong she can smell it from a few feet away. Wrinkling her nose as the scent, she continues to sip her whiskey. He settles at the seat one down from her, sipping his drink quietly.
"You left Weasley," he says, like it's a statement he has never been more sure of. Hermione glances at him. "What makes you think he didn't leave me?" she asks him.
"Weasley would never do that. You are smarter than him, better at almost everything than he is, and kinder," he says, taking a sip of his drink and not daring to glance at her. Hermione, however, now can't tear her gaze from the side of his face. She never would have pictured the boy who, less than a decade ago, was calling her foul names and hurling insults her way to say something like that. Draco finally glances at her.
"Not a compliment. Weasley was a fucking imbecile," he says cruelly. Hermione sighs, turning back to her drink. She watches out of the corner of her eye as Draco finishes off his glass and orders another one. "Why are you acting all depressed?" she asks him, almost surprising herself.
This time he does turn his head towards her. "Why should I tell you anything?" he sneers, reverting back to the boy she remembers. Hermione shrugs. "You were the one who sat next to me. This place is empty, you could have sat anywhere. I thought maybe you wanted someone to talk to."
“You think just because I am seated near you, drinking, that I would open up to you? Perhaps you aren’t as smart as I perceived,” he says, his voice still dripping with venom. Hermione only nods and, not wanting to endure any sort of torment from him, starts to push off of her barstool to go sit in a booth in the corner of the pub.
“Astoria broke off our engagement,” Draco says as her foot brushes the floor. He does not look at her still, just drinking small sips of the clear foul smelling liquid. His face is void of any real emotion, cold and cruel and beautiful like he was carved from marble. Hermione does not sit back in her chair, but she stands at the bar and watches for any movement in his face.
“Do you want to discuss it further?” she finally asks, bracing herself in case he lashes out at her. Instead, he just shrugs his shoulders. “I am sure you have read about it in the papers,” he says.
Blinking, Hermione does seem to recall there being some small blurb about their proposed union. Those things were always big with pureblood families, the unity of two great lines. However she did not recall seeing anything about the end of their engagement.
“Only about the engagement, not about it being called off,” she says, watching his face for any sign of emotion. He only shakes his head, eyes still cold and full of nothing. “I suppose it doesn’t matter. It was not a good union, not a good match on my parents' part,” he says, looking straight ahead.
“You were not permitted to marry for love?” Hermione says, without really thinking. The alcohol in her body is catching up to her, and she finds it harder to control her thoughts and tongue when she is drunk.
Draco turns to look at her fully, and Hermione wants to shrink under the crossfire of his gaze. His eyes seem to pierce into her, looking straight into her heart, her brain, even her soul. There is nowhere for her to hide, nowhere she can go to escape the cold stare of eyes like stone.
“I don’t expect you to understand, Granger. You married into one of the only pureblooded families that doesn’t give two shits about their lineage. It was evident when they let their son marry a Muggle born witch, and their daughter is out galavanting with Potter. Doesn’t matter that he’s the chosen one, he’s still a half blooded wizard,” Draco spits, not taking a breath.
But Hermione is quick, not intending to allow him to speak freely in this manner to her. “You foul little boy. Has nothing softened in you, years after everything has happened? You act high and mighty, but at least I will experience love in my life! Real, raw love, not some family orchestrated bullshit!” Her voice does not waver, it is strong and without a tremble. “I pity you, truly.”
She turns to walk away, her head pounding from the alcohol and the harsh words she has just said. Gripping the stool to steady herself, she takes a step in the direction towards the door before she feels a grip on her arm.
Turning her head, she is met again with that stone cold stare. But this time, his face has wavered slightly, either from her words or from her attempt at departing. He says nothing, just stares at her in a way that makes her both feel on fire and afraid. Trapped and free. Wanted and hated.
“Tell me about your failed marriage,” he says, without a hint of an apology. Still, Hermione detects no cruelty in his request, and probes him. “Why do you want to know?”
“I want to know how people that seemed to be destined for each other walk away from it all,” he says, with no trace of malice or sarcasm accompanying his words. His throat bobs, as if he is having difficulty swallowing.
Sensing his sincerity, she climbs back onto the stool next to him. She can’t bring herself to look at him, so instead she looks at the near empty glass on the surface in front of her. “I don’t really think we were a perfect match. I think that we had both been through the same trials, the same sorts of hardships, and that brought us together. But,” she said, taking a breath, “we didn't want the same things in life. I was more practical, and I wanted to work for a bit before having children. Ron came from a family where he was surrounded by siblings, and he wanted to have children right away. I wanted to teach healing, or potions, or something like that to young wizards and witches, but instead I went to work at St. Mungos because Ron didn’t want me to work those odd hours at Hogwarts. I just think we wanted different things, and that we started our marriage out with nothing but this horrible experience we had both endured and a bit of lust for each other.”
Draco nodded. He remembered how fast they had gotten engaged and married, almost as if they were on a deadline. Engaged at nineteen, married by twenty. No time to be free, young adults after school. He thought of his own years following Hogwarts, how he was free to be reckless and do as he wished. He thought of all the time he wasted, relying on Lucius’ money and power to make his mistakes disappear. Draco glanced at the girl next to him, with her scowling face and hair pulled back too tight, and he felt pity for her. Of course, he would not tell her that. Instead, he flagged down the bartender, ordering the both of them another drink.
She nodded at him in thanks as he slid the full glass over to her, taking a small sip. They both needed to stop drinking, as they were teetering on a dangerous slope between drunk and very drunk. But he didn’t care, and she had a sense of hopelessness in her.
“Astoria wanted a proper marriage, and I didn’t,” he said suddenly, causing Hermione to turn her head suddenly at him. “She wanted us to love one another, to have children and grow old together. She wanted us to be like my parents, but I could not see myself ever loving her. I only wanted to be wed to appease my parents, mainly my father.”
“Do your parents love each other? Like, truly love each other?” she asked him. He nodded, a hint of a smile creeping onto his face.
“Oh yes. My father was absolutely obsessed with my mother when they were younger, and now they share a love that I think most people can only hope for. But I think that, while they still love each other, there is this safety net around them that they have. My father, although he was pardoned in the end, seems to feel as if the two of them are being hunted. I suspect he is partially mad after his imprisonment, but he and my mother stay sheltered in the manor. They only socialize with a few people, and they rarely leave. I think that is why their love is so strong now, they are the only companions each other has.”
“Did you not find her attractive? Astoria, I mean,” Hermione asked him. Draco merely shrugged. “She was beautiful, everyone could see that. However, she was not a combination of features that I particularly liked,” he said plainly.
Hermione hummed in response, not brave enough to ask what features he did find attractive. She speculated that it was none of her business anyways, and that that was a rather uncomfortable conversation to have with him. He did not seem to want to elaborate, anyways, so Hermione turned back to her drink.
The two of them sat in silence, the only movement in the pub being the bartender and the ticking clock. Draco glanced up at the latter, noticing that there were only a few minutes until midnight. The liquid in his glass warmed him, made him feel vulnerable and sad. He was not used to those feelings, and sharing a drink with the girl near him was not making him any less uncomfortable. Looking at her quickly, he wondered if her hair was still as wild as it was in school. He wondered if it would tumble out of the tight bun she wore it in, flying around her shoulders, engulfing her head like a lion’s mane.
Someone clears their throat at the two of them, and they both look up to find the bartender watching them.
“Pub is closed in two minutes,” they tell the pair of moping young adults.
Hermione rummages around in her bag for coins to put on the bar, but stops when Draco sets down enough money to cover them both. She shakes her head at him, scowling.
“I don’t need you to pay for me, I have money.”
“I know,” he says, without a second thought. There is no malice, no hardness in him as he looks at her. Rather, Hermione sees indifference on his face. Something has shifted as he watches her get off the stool and walk towards the door.
Hermione feels Draco on her heels, his large body behind her as she opens the door to the pub and walks into the street. She turns to face him as he exits behind her, unsure of if she should bid him farewell or simply turn and leave.
“Do you live far?” he asks her. She shakes her head, pointing up the street. “I live in a flat above a shop on the high street. A ten minute walk at most,” she tells him, watching his face. He nods, and starts to walk that way.
“I don’t need to be accompanied,” she tells him flatly. He looks back at her, how she is flushed from drinking, and simply says: “You are not sober and it is dark.”
Hermione scowls. “You are not sober either, Malfoy. I am not some helpless wain, I can take care of myself.”
“I am trying to be nice.”
Nice. Hermione almost laughs at the word he uses to describe his intentions. She looks at the man, waiting to see him become angry with her. But he doesn’t, not even a bit. Instead, he stares with that same look of indifference as when he paid for her drink. Poor, poor Hermione, without a husband. She must have no money and be frightened to walk in the dark to her flat.
Huffing, she stomps past him. Not looking back or speaking to him, she walks along the street, hoping that he has turned the other way. About halfway to her house, she whips her head around to find him roughly fifty feet behind her.
“What is it you could possibly want?” she practically shouts in the street. Draco stops walking, raising an eyebrow at her outburst. For a moment he does not speak, merely watching her as she huffs and glares at him.
“Do you have whiskey at your flat?”
—-------------------------------------------------------
Hermione tries not to take notice as Draco surveys her very small living space, and she tries not to be offended when he wrinkles his nose slightly at the peeling walls and creaky floors.
“It’s a temporary space, until I can get my ducks in a row,” she says, trying to defend herself in front of a man who has had nothing but riches since birth.
Why had she let him up here? Hermione is trying to justify her drunken actions and thoughts, but she feels bad for the man standing in her kitchen. She can sense that he is sad and that he wants to just talk to someone who does not share his life.
Draco watches as she takes down two mismatched cups and a half drunk bottle of whiskey from her cupboard. She pours two hefty servings of the golden liquid before handing the bigger portion to him.
“Trying to get me to spill my secrets?” he says, taking the cup. She looks at him in confusion. “You asked for whiskey. I did not think you wanted a small sip and to be on your way,” she says plainly.
Draco says nothing, just takes a drink and gazes around the room. In her own home, Hermione is feeling out of place and uncomfortable. She doesn’t know how else to describe it, but he seems to take up the whole place with his energy and aura, leaving nowhere for her to be. Sipping the drink in her hand, she is reminded of her already tipsy nature as her cheeks flush warmly. Watching Draco, she notices the slight pink color that has crept into his cheeks. No doubt it is from drinking, but it humanizes him in a way she had not known before.
“Weasley left you with no money, then.” Draco doesn’t even make it sound like a question. He says the statement like it's a fact he knows firsthand.
Hermione frowns. “We split amicably. He has his money and I have mine. I just did not feel the need to buy some lavish place for just myself to temporarily exist in.”
Draco nods, drinking his drink quickly and suddenly. Hermione is perplexed as she watches him, wondering why he acts as if he needs to drown in liquor. “You are drinking like you want to spill your secrets,” she says, almost smiling.
“Perhaps,” he says, catching her off guard. And then he smiles. It is still cold and cruel, but it is a smile that curls on his face in a natural way. One Hermione didn’t expect to see, and she stares at his transformed face.
“Why are you here?” she asks suddenly. He looks at her, his eyes full of something she can’t detect and his face wavering with uncertainty. He doesn’t move his eyes from her face for what seems like a thousand years, just watching her confusion.
“I don’t want to go home,” he finally says. Hermione opens her mouth to respond, but he keeps going. “And I don’t want to face my parents, or even myself in that dreadful house. I want to talk to someone who has no idea what my life is like, and whose life I have no clue about. I want to drink until I can’t remember anything but my name and…” He pauses, his eyes scanning her face. Hermione watches him, how he looks unkempt and wild from his words.
“I want to know if your hair is still long and wild, and what it looks like out of that stupid bun you’re wearing.”
It is almost as if someone has removed the air from the room. Hermione can’t seem to breathe, and she wonders if Draco is also slowly suffocating. He is not though, as evident from his ragged and panting breath. His eyes are wild with… desperation? Regret? Confusion? Hermione can’t place it.
Draco watches her face, watches for any sign of disdain for him or his words. She shows none though, only looking at him in a soft way. Not as though she pities him, but perhaps that she has empathy for him at this moment. That she understands the need to talk to someone who is unbiased and unaware of the entire situation.
Hermione doesn’t know what compels her to do it. Her mind almost fights her hand on the matter, but she does it anyway. Reaching up to her hair, she undos the elastic that is holding the bun wound in place. She uncoils her hair, feeling it comes to life now free of its restriction. It is kinked in odd ways from the bun, but it soon falls in all its glory around her face and shoulders. Frizzy, unmanageable, messy, and imperfect.
Draco looks at it as if it is gold flowing from her scalp.
She stares at him and he stares at her, neither one of them speaking. Now Draco is the one who looks like he is having trouble breathing and Hermione is panting, feeling like a stranger in her kitchen. The alcohol in her system makes her both bold and terribly frightened as his eyes pierce into her.
Draco can’t take his eyes from her mane, the way it engulfs her face and features. Such a pity that she kept it tied up, out of his view for most of the night. His hand, as if possessed, reaches out to touch a loose wave that has found itself laying in front of her face. He looks at the hair, the way it lays between his fingers and looks dark in comparison to his pale skin.
Something in Hermione’s body shifts and she finds herself a slave to the alcohol. Stepping forward ever so slightly, she looks fully into Draco’s eyes. His hand is still near her face, holding the strand of hair. Gently, she reaches up and touches the hand that is by her cheek, watching his face carefully for any sign of negativity. She counts the seconds, one, two, three, but he does not pull away from her touch. On the fourth second, something clicks in Draco’s mind. Something that seemed to never have clicked before.
In a swift moment, on the fifth second, he steps forward and cradles her face in his hands, waiting one short moment to see if she pulls away. When she does not, he swiftly bends his neck down to meet her face and press a tentative kiss to her lips. He feels her breath hitch, but she does not move away. He kisses her again, less soft, and she still does not move away. On the third kiss, he feels her lips move to match his and he lets go.
Hermione feels on fire, both sure and unsure of her actions. Her lips move fast, not out of soft desire, but out of desperation and hunger. Hunger for a body, for physical touch, for the man who shared a few drinks and secrets with her. She reaches for his face, his hair, anything to get closer as their lips move in an uncoordinated manner.
Draco’s hands move away from her face, gripping her shoulders, then her arms, then finding themselves tangled in her long hair. She is trying to guide him out of the kitchen, breaking away to whisper something that he can’t hear over the pounding in her head. He bumps into a chair as he walks backwards, still trying to capture her lips and breath.
“Shit,” he says, pulling away for a moment to look behind him. Hermione doesn’t say anything, instead gently guiding him out of the kitchen and into the small adjacent room. There is nothing but a bed and a small night table, but at this moment she doesn’t need anything else.
Sitting on her bed, Draco meets Hermione’s level as she stands in front of him. He waits a moment, watching her face for any hint of regret. She only gazes at his lips, her eyes half lidded with desire, before closing the space.
They are messy for a minute, a tangle of hands and lips and teeth and tongues. But they settle into each other, breaking only so that he can attach his lips to her neck, her collarbone. She settles her hands in his hair once more, feeling like she needs to be closer, so much closer to him. Soft gasps leave her mouth, his lips and tongue caressing her skin and his hands roaming her back under her shirt.
“Draco,” she says, in a voice that she has not heard in years. He breaks away and looks at her, waiting. She touches the hem of his shirt and he knows, lifting his arms to allow her to remove it. He moves his eyebrows in question and she nods, letting him lift her shirt away.
Draco stares at her body, and he notices a slight squirm from her under his gaze. Hermione stares back, her eyes fixed on his torso. He is lean, muscular but thin, and so, so pale. She brushes a hand across his abdomen, causing him to shudder. His hands are resting on her upper back, his fingers slipping under the band of her bra.
Draco moves his head first, kissing her again with urgency. He tries and fails to unclasp the bra she has on, but Hermione meets his hands and does it for him. The bra falls to the floor, his hands migrating now to cup her breasts as he kisses her.
Hermione feels as though her skin is fire and his is ice. Every touch from him brings goosebumps and waves of chills to her body. She isn’t close enough to him, and she tries to crawl on him so that she can straddle him as he touches her. He stops her, pushing her back for a moment. She looks at him, thinking he has changed his mind, when he speaks.
“We need to undress.”
Nodding, she steps back. He stands and, with no second thought, removes the lower layer of his clothes. Draco watches as she does the same, the two of them standing naked in the dark room.
He sits back on the bed, holding a hand out to her. Once she touches him, he pulls her on top of him so that now she is seated in his lap on the bed. Hermione can feel him, hard and hot, pressing into her stomach as she sits there. She lowers her head so that she can place her lips on his neck and jaw, peppering kisses.
Draco’s hands are gripping her ass, pulling her closer to him as she kisses him. He reaches one hand lower, brushing her sex like he was asking it a question. Hermione moaned into his ear, pressing herself into his hand in response.
Not one to make her wait any longer, Draco slipped a finger inside of her. He watched her, his mouth open, as she moved on his hand. When he slipped a second finger into her, her eyes shut and she gripped his shoulders tightly. She was whimpering, making these small gasping sounds as she rode his fingers.
“Fuck,” he swore, worried he was going to come just from the sight of her moving and the sounds she was making. Hermione was lost to everything but him in the moment, feeling like her nerves were hardwired and electrifying in this moment. Her tits moved in his face, and he bent to capture one of her nipples in his mouth.
This felt good, too good. Hermione couldn’t think of anything but his fingers and his mouth. She felt herself, tightening and clenching around his fingers, inching closer to her finish. She could feel his eyes watching her, as she moved and moaned incoherently. Draco bit ever so slightly on the nipple he had in his lips, and that was it.
“Fuck,” she swore, eyes shut tight and her core pulsating around his hand as she came. She gripped him tightly, holding him in an embrace as she shook in his lap. He kept moving his finger in her, not stopping until she was limp and draped over his shoulder. He removes his fingers from her and kisses her shoulder, hands resting on her lower back.
Hermione tries to wedge her hand in between them so that she can touch him, but he stops her before she can. “Let me fuck you,” he says, less of a request and more of a command. She nods.
Draco picks her up off of him, laying her on her stomach on top of the bed. He positions himself behind her, pressing the full weight of him on top of her. Moving her hair to one side, he kisses her shoulder as he sheathes himself into her.
“Hermione,” he says, his voice soft and dirty. She responds with a whimper as he moves slowly in her, testing the waters.
Hermione moves back against him, urging him to be faster, harder. Draco notices and, with a soft grunt, starts to move with heavy and deep thrusts. She is trying to grab onto the sheets, the blanket, anything she can grip. He is placing sloppy kisses onto the side of her neck, and whispering things into her ears.
“Perfect, you feel perfect,” he says, biting her earlobe as he moves into her. He is consumed by how tight and wet and warm she is, how soft her skin is, the way her hair smells, the small noises she’s making. He is thrusting heavily, trying to be as close to her as he can. Her small body underneath his, writhing and rocking against him.
Hermione can’t think of anything but the way he feels in her. She is moaning nonsense, cursing and swearing and saying his name in this breathy voice that she doesn’t recognize. He is moving against her ass, her clit rubbing on the sheets every time he moves into her. It should be impossible to feel this full this good. There is hair in her face, tears streaming down her cheeks, her hands are tangled in the blanket. She loves it.
“Fuck,” he says, and she feels him stutter in his movements. He slows slightly, but she moves against him. “It’s okay,” she says, gasping at how all consuming he is in her.
Draco understands, and resumes his deep, full motion inside of her. He attached his lips and teeth to her shoulder, her neck, wherever he can as he says her name over and over again.
Hermione, Hermione, Hermione.
Hearing her name, her first name, on his lips is the death of her. She cries out, tightening around his length, and her legs shake. He stutters again, groaning at the sensation. Draco gives one, two, three more motions before he stops, coming inside her.
They lay there for a moment, his body on top of hers, before he pulls out of her. She feels warm and wet in between her legs, and her face burns brightly. He is moving around, and she feels him get up off the bed. For a moment, she wonders if he plans to leave her like this.
Draco takes in the full view of her, laid out with cum on her thighs. He spots tissues on the nightstand and, after gazing at her one final time, reaches to wipe her legs clean.
The feeling makes Hermione shudder, who feels as though she has no more bones or muscles in her body. She rolls over once he is done, and she watches as he walks to the attached bathroom to toss the tissues away. She takes in his body, full and tall, as he does so.
Draco sees her, propped on her elbows, when he returns. Saying nothing, he bends down and kisses her. Lightly, gently, as if saying job well done. He scoots her over to one side of the bed, climbing next to her and letting her mold her back to his stomach.
Hermione’s body feels dead, and the heaviness from Draco mixed with his breath on her neck sends her into an all consuming slumber before she can process a new thought.
—-------------------------------
Waking, Hermione finds the bed to be empty beside her. Stretching her legs, she looks over at the small clock to find that it is just past four in the morning. A small pang of anger, sadness, whatever, fills her chest as she realizes that he has left.
Sitting up slowly, she stands to go get a drink of water from the kitchen. Opening the door to her bedroom, she is surprised to find the light on in the kitchen.
She is even more surprised to find him there.
“Sorry,” he says, glass in hand. “I thought you were still sleeping.”
“I thought you left.”
He stares at her, his expression unreadable. “Why?”
Hermione stands and looks at him. She shrugs, not even knowing what to say. “Felt like it was that sort of arrangement.”
Draco set his glass down. “There was no ‘arrangement’. I came to get water. If you prefer I leave, or sleep on the floor, tell me now and I will listen.”
Hermione shakes her head. “No- sorry. I don’t normally do this.”
“Neither do I.”
“Okay,” she says, watching him drink the rest of his water. He sets the glass down as she grabs a new one from the cupboard. “I’m going back to bed,” he says, before leaving her in the kitchen.
Drinking water, she watches him leave. She suspects that, in the morning, there will be awkward glances and few words. Perhaps then the feelings of regret will settle into them. But for now…
Hermione put the empty glass down, next to his. As she looked at the two glasses, she couldn’t help but feel glad. Glad that someone wanted her, glad that someone shared her bed tonight, glad that someone touched her and made her feel alive.
Even if it was him.
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Draco Malfoy switches sides halfway through the Second Wizarding War, but by the time he does, its too late. When the war ends in a final, bloody battle that leaves Draco the last man standing he uses the remnants of the spell they had sacrificed everything to keep Voldemort from casting to send himself back in time.
When he wakes up two years in the past he only has one goal. Hermione Granger died to end the war the first time around. This time—he’ll do anything it takes to make sure that never happens.
Reborn by AnnaJohnson72 I Chapters 11/? I Gryffindor Draco, Disowned Draco, Depressed Draco, BAMF Draco, Hogwarts Fifth Year, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Ron Weasley Bashing, AU - Canon Divergence
Despite popular belief, Draco isn’t a coward. He is sly and ambitious, he's the perfect Slytherin. At least he's supposed to be. But he’s also smart, and he can be loyal. And believe it or not brave too. When Draco's 5th year goes off the rails, he's forced to show the world who he really is.
Includes disownment, re-sorting, successful BAMF Draco.
Metanoia by isobelx I Chapters 46/70 I Draco Malfoy Redemption, Slow Burn, AU - Canon Divergence, Hogwarts Fourth Year, Hogwarts Fifth Year, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Horcrux Hunting
When it becomes clear the path his father has chosen for their family will lead to nothing but pain and suffering, Draco Malfoy is forced to question everything he's ever been taught. In his quest for survival, and with the help of an unlikely ally, he'll embark on a journey of transformation and self-discovery, that will ultimately change the very foundations of his identity.
or
What if Draco Malfoy decided he did not want to be a servant to the Dark Lord long before he was forced to join his ranks?
Antinomian by thestarsoforion I Chapters 37/? I AU- Canon Divergence, Secret Relationship-Well Not That Secret, Harry And Ron Are Oblivious, Unhealthy Relationships, Obsessive Draco, Obsessive Hermione, Morally Grey Draco, Morally Grey Hermione, BAMF Hermione, BAMF Draco, Death Eater Draco, Ron Weasley Bashing, Remus Lupin Bashing
He's always watched her. He can't help it. Merlin help him, he's been fucking trying though.
She hates him. He's a vile, bigoted arsehole. Of all the people who have made her feel small, who have made her have to fight and scrape and claw for her place in this world ever since she was eleven, he's the worst of them all.
But when things take a turn at the Yule Ball, Draco Malfoy decides he's done fighting himself, and Hermione Granger is left floored, struggling to understand this new, strange version of him.
Dramione with Fanart
Secrets and Masks by Emerald_Slytherin I Chapters: 75/75 | Completed READ THE TAGS High Death Eater Draco, Smut, Inspired by Manacled, Violence, War
The Disappearances of Draco Malfoy by speechwriter | Chapters: 33/33 | Completed Canon Divergence, Slow Burn, Redemption, Horcrux Hunting, Draco with the Golden Trio
Timeless by alexandra_emerson I Chapters 50/50 I Completed Time travel, Time Loop, Drama and Romance, Married Couple, Redeemed Draco, Tearjerker, mystery
Love In A Time Of The Zombie Apocalypse by rizzlewrites. I Chapters 84/84 I Completed High Reeve Draco, Post-Apocalyptic, Zombies, Slow Burn, scientist Draco, Horror, BAMF Draco, BAMF Hermione, BAMF Harry
Things Without Remedy by onebedtorulethemall I Chapters 32/32 I Completed Time Travel, Auror Draco Malfoy, Time Turners, Draco Redemption
Manacled by senlinyu I Chapters 77/77 I Completed READ TAGS High Reeve Draco, Post-War, AU Voldemort Wins, Harry Potter Dies, dark fic
Remain Nameless by HeyJude19 I Chapters 51/51 I Completed Slow Burn, Past Drug Addiction, Healing, Fluff and Angst, Romance, blueberry scones
Regression by WritexAboutxMe I Chapters 32/32 I Completed Murder Mystery, Auror Draco, Slow Burn, Tattooed Draco Malfoy, Draco loves muggle pens, Past Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Let The Dark In by senlinyu I Chapters: 33/? I No Voldemort au, Durmstrang Student Draco, Dark Magic, Slow Burn, Triwizard Champion Hermione Granger, No Voldemort Does Not Mean No Bigotry, Morally Grey Hermione
The Choices We Make by Stacygenesis I Chapters 49/49 I Completed Hogwarts Sixth Year, AU - Canon Divergence, Memory Loss, War, Slow Burn, Light Ron Bashing, Protectiveness, Pining, Eventual Smut
Bookmark Series
This World or Any Other by @olivieblake I Part 1-3 I Completed hermione is the one to find draco in the bathroom, Canon Divergence
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