#the granger feint

[saintsenara]

what do you think of charlie/hermione?

thank you very much for the ask, anon!

i generally prefer to think of charlie as having no romantic or sexual interest in women - whether that's because he's gay or because he's got no romantic or sexual interest in anyone - but, seeing as this is fanfiction and blorbos can pair up with who they like, that doesn't have any impact at all on why i don't back this ship... and why i also don't back them as ever becoming good friends either.

i think it's flopping because the main things we know about charlie are that he's outdoorsy and that he fucking loves quidditch. hermione... is neither of these things. charlie is very much giving "hey, let's go wild camping in the middle of nowhere, we can forage for food" and she's very much giving "i am never touching nature again after my time in that tent, i want a five star hotel with a spa and that's final".

incompatible.

[ramblings-of-a-mad-cat]

Quidditch Culture: An honest look at The Wizarding Sport

Listen, I love Quidditch.

You love Quidditch.

We all love Quidditch.

If nothing else, it’s a funny word. But the Harry Potter books gave us a fully realized sport with rules that were easy enough to understand without being too simplistic. It was relatable to real sports, but with a bit of fantasy thrown in to make it feel other-worldly. Expanded content, like the book Quidditch Through The Ages, only fleshed the game out even further. (I’ll be referencing that book and bringing up details revealed within it, just as a forewarning.) Sure, Quidditch has been mocked over the years because of the unbalanced role the Seeker has over the other players, but they did manage to offer a counter argument in the form of the World Cup match in GOF (I’ll be talking about that too) and really, the isolation and heightened role for the seeker was basically just symbolism for Harry’s role in the wizarding community. The game is fun, plain and simple. It’s exciting. 

But it is also shockingly violent, frighteningly competitive, and practically all-consuming. 

There is no avoiding the fact that Quidditch is a dangerous sport. You play the game on broomsticks, flying a hundred feet in the air, give or take. To call that a health hazard is putting it lightly. Anyone can fall off their broomsticks at any time. It’s not just a hypothetical, either. There are numerous instances of this happening in-universe. Players fall, crash, or get deliberately knocked off their brooms. In every single game, they risk death. They risk severe, potentially lifelong injuries. While it is possible that there is some kind of cushioning charm on the field below, we don't ever get confirmation of that, even in Quidditch Through The Ages. That's literally just a head-canon. The Wizarding World itself is inherently dangerous, and that gets into a different (and much bigger) conversation. Flying isn’t exactly safe, but it at least has a purpose, that being transportation. Quidditch is a form of recreation. It’s not a necessity, despite what certain characters would have you believe, and I will get to that. 

To be fair, the existence of magic renders many of the dangers of this world considerably safer, or at least less fatal. But that’s part of the problem. An ability to magically heal wounds has resulted in this society overall taking injury less seriously. It has led to a shared sense of overconfidence. Particularly since they have no concept of mental health. Like I said, this is a bigger discussion for another day, but I’d just like to draw the conclusion that witches and wizards don’t understand trauma, and how it can affect people. If you fall fifty feet and your arm snaps in half, that’s going to be excruciatingly painful and frightening. A Healer might be able to wave a wand and heal your physical injuries, but the trauma of such a shocking, painful experience won’t simply disappear. Mental health matters. 

But if you thought that was the end of it, my friend, then I’m afraid you have forgotten about The Bludgers. Because if you take a step back to think about it, the existence of the bludgers is insane. Gigantic iron bullets that rocket around the field with the sole purpose of attempting to knock players off their broomsticks. One of the balls in this sports game will actively try to kill you. If nothing else, it’s exceedingly unlikely that you’ll go an entire Quidditch career without getting severely injured by one of them. Couple that with the anxiety, because I don’t know about you, but if I played Quidditch? I would be constantly paranoid about the bludgers. True, there are players on standby who exist to protect you from them…but that’s really not enough, especially since there are also players on standby who exist to use them against you. The two primary jobs of the Beater are to protect their team from Bludgers and hit them at the opposing team. That's not even acknowledging the risk that they might hit people in the stands. Again, we don't ever see this happen, so one can assume there are spells to prevent it...but that's still just a theory.

Quidditch is more violent than the likes of boxing, and there is little doubt that it can cause lasting damage to players just as easily. It could probably do so a lot faster. How any of them still have teeth, how most of them don’t have brain damage, is absolutely beyond me. Beaters literally exist to attack opposing players. In particular, the Seeker, because of their crucial role. What’s more, the Seeker has no counterpart like the Beaters and Chasers. They’re completely on their own, and frequently a target. Nowhere is this better demonstrated than in the World Cup game. Apart from establishing that The Seeker isn’t actually that overpowered if you have Chasers who are skilled enough, this match gave us an insight into just how ruthlessly violent professional Quidditch can be. 

I say this unironically - Aidan Lynch sustained serious brain damage after that game. There is no way that he did not. He crashed into the ground at least twice. At least one of these crashes was deliberate on the part of Krum. I cannot stress this enough - there is an entire maneuver, a famous Seeker move, designed around tricking the opposing Seeker into crashing. This is something that the characters don’t see as a problem, either, beyond lamenting that it was done to the team they were supporting. Arthur condemns Lynch, the victim, for falling into the trap. Charlie writes it off by saying “He only got ploughed!” The characters, even the adults, are completely oblivious to the real problem here, and the lack of self-awareness is truly disturbing. Even Harry is susceptible to this. Muggle-borns (and those raised by muggles) are not immune to Quidditch Culture. To Harry, like everyone else, the Wronskei Feint isn’t horrific, it’s cool. The mark of an exceptional Seeker. The only bad thing about it was that Krum put himself in danger, apparently.

The utterly cavalier attitude that fans have toward the violence is not an isolated incident, either. It is the norm. It’s not only socially acceptable for Quidditch players and their fans to be bloodthirsty, in some cases it is even expected, and brings out viciousness among even the most level-headed people. Did you know this game has seven hundred fouls? At one point Slytherin gets in trouble for attacking Oliver Wood, but only because, and I quote, "You do not attack the Keeper unless the Quaffle is within scoring area." Apparently it's just fine to do so otherwise. There is a team in the British/Irish league known as the Falmouth Falcons, who are infamous for their violent playstyle. To the point where their motto is, I kid you not, “Let us win, but if we cannot win, let us break a few heads.” How in god’s name does a professional sports team get away with something like that? I’ll tell you how. Because Quidditch fans are nuts. Because Quidditch fans are no less desensitized to the dangers of this game than the players are. 

This can be observed in virtually every character we see who becomes invested in the game. Oliver Wood is one of the finest examples, as is Skye Parkin from HPHM. While it's usually played for laughs, these tendencies are unhealthy and disturbing if you look at them realistically. Both of these characters take the game of Quidditch, specifically their goal of victory, way too far. To the point where they seem to value a match victory over things like the well-being of their team. There’s nothing wrong with a bit of healthy enthusiasm for team sports, nothing wrong with being passionate for a game that you love. But when Oliver tells Harry to “get the snitch or die trying” and it’s not entirely clear if he’s joking…then he’s putting the game itself over his team. Which, as the literal team captain, is simply not acceptable. Then Harry himself falls into this tendency. Even though a bludger is actively trying to kill him, Harry prioritizes defeating Slytherin over his own safety. Harry’s not even the competitive type, not usually. But he's never been one to take his own life that seriously this game brings out that side of people, and does so to dangerous levels. 

Almost everyone who ever touches this game comes off worse for it. (The only exception I can think of being Ginny Weasley.) Ron playing Quidditch caused his inferiority complex to act up and gave him a healthy dose of stage fright. The HPHM Quidditch storyline sees multiple characters suffering for the sake of Quidditch, from Skye Parkin being pressured to live up to her family’s legacy, to Erika Rath being subjected to bullying and pressure from all sides, thanks to her own talents. Gwenog Jones, as we learn in HPHM, was a short-sighted cheat who never took responsibility for her actions. Ludo Bagman is no different. He’s a gambling addict who winds up stealing the life savings of two teenagers to cover his debt. The only character to ever criticize the negativity that Quidditch creates is Hermione, and like most of the time, she’s absolutely right. But the conversation never goes anywhere because she is always shut down, swiftly and without mercy. The other characters in the room act as though she’s blasphemed. All because she doesn’t like a sport. 

This is what I mean. Quidditch is not simply a game to these people. To the witches and wizards who are into it, Quidditch is worshipped. It’s a lifestyle, a philosophy, that is shared across this society. There are no “casual” fans. People who follow this sport become invested, to an unhealthy level. To the point of rioting if it's taken away, to the point where Lee Jordan and Murphy McNully can't even pretend to be impartial, and this is treated as basically normal. When I use the phrase “Quidditch Culture” I’m not simply being pretentious. There really does seem to be shared understanding between the fans, and all of them take the game that seriously. I think the greatest example of this can be found in the Daily Prophet. When “stooging” was banned, people were outraged. Including one boy who claimed that he and his dad “liked watching them Keepers get flattened.” He tearfully claims that he doesn’t want to go see Quidditch games anymore. Kid was six years old, by the way. 

I really feel like the culture speaks for itself at this point.

[hpsaffics]

💋 WLW Wed: Fake Pretend Dating 💋

A biweekly HP femslash rec list made by the lovely members of the HP SAFFICS (18+) discord server. See all previous rec lists in the WLW Library.

Currently: Fake Dating Previously: Pride (see list)

—

💄 Long (>10k) 💄

Killing Me Softly by @looktotheedges [Hermione/Narcissa, M, 96.7k]

When Ginny gets hurt in a wronski feint gone wrong, Hermione is on hand to take her away from the swarming fans and straight to a quieter part of St Mungo's. Where the only mediwitch around is Narcissa Black. Healer and master legilimens. And apparently Hermione's thoughts are rather loud. Oops.

Distractions by @morningsound15 [Hermione/Ginny, T, 86.7k]

Ron and Hermione have recently broken up, and Ginny — concerned for her best friend — has decided that the only thing for Hermione to do now is to date someone new to make Ron jealous. And who better than Hermione’s best friend (and coincidentally Ron’s younger sister) to drive him absolutely mental?

sometimes you amaze me by burstofpeony [Hermione/Pansy, T, 54.3k]

Hermione’s on track to become the youngest Minister of Magic in history. There’s just one issue-- the polls hate her. Well, the polls hate her gayness, specifically. When a solution is presented that could fix everything, who’s she to decline?

Rumour Has It by Melacka, @artymakeart, @showknight [Hermione/Ginny, T, 31.2k] WITH ART!

Ginny accidentally outs Hermione to the whole Wizarding World. Fake dating shenanigans ensue.

i was born for this by toulouser [Marlene/Dorcas, T, 18.7k]

The one where Dorcas becomes Remus' fake girlfriend to make Sirius jealous. Turns out, she was trying to make someone else jealous as well.

Trust A Few by @violetclarity [Hermione/Pansy, T, 13.2k]

Hermione has a pregnant adopted sister, parents who don’t believe she’s bisexual, and a crush the size of the Great Lake on Pansy Parkinson. Taking Pansy up on her offer to be Hermione’s fake date to her parents’ Christmas dinner could solve at least one of those problems...but it could also make everything worse.

—

🌹 Medium (3-10k) 🌹

Sincerity of Feeling by @bafflinghaze [Fleur/Hermione, G, 5.6k]

“That is correct. I am going to the Yule Ball with Hermione Granger. Now run along, you little boys.” She flipped back her hair and strode past them, and this time, stopped for none.

Catching the Snitch by abluestocking [Padma/Ginny, G, 5.5k]

In which a Ministry dinner, a sibling rivalry, and a Quidditch tournament changed the course of Padma Patil's life in a way she never expected.

she wears shorts skirts by @thelizbian [Marlene/Dorcas, M, 5.3k]

Regulus Black- Dorcas's best friend and next door neighbor, 4.5 GPA despite skipping a grade, soft at heart. Marlene McKinnon- Cheer captain, popular, smart, perfect. Dating Regulus? James Potter- Captain of the football team, popular, rich. Unlikely ally? Dorcas Meadowes- Confused as fuck.

Slytherin Altruism by @owlswithfins [Hermione/Pansy, T, 4.3k]

Suddenly someone slid into the booth across from her. “She,” the woman corrected, setting down her purse and smoothing her skirt. “Sorry I’m late, babe. You know how it is down at the Prophet.” Hermione’s mouth fell open as she stared dumbly at one Pansy Parkinson.

—

🍷 Short (<3k) 🍷

campanula by @fullmetalruby [Fleur/Tonks, G, 2.9k]

Campanula (bellflower)-- representative of gratitude, humility, attractiveness, and everlasting love.

Rescuing Pansy by anxiousgoat [Pansy/Tonks, G, 2.4k]

In which a sad Pansy is comforted by a hot genderfluid stranger who is very very happy to help her out.

Two Truths and a Lie by @karasunova [Hermione/Tonks, G, 1.5k]

It began with a favor, as these things are usually wont to do. (in which Hermione enters a fake dating scheme which turns into a real dating scheme which turns into much more than she bargained for)

More Than Just Maintaining Cover by knowyourincantations [Tonks/Ginny, M, 1.4k]

Tonks and Ginny frequently go undercover as a couple, but they've never had to sell it like this before.

—

👠 Want more Fake Dating fics? 👠

Fake/Pretend Relationship: Tag on AO3

WLW Library: Tumblr | Tag | AO3

[lizabethstucker]

Head canons that I might or might not explore in stories ... someday.

MCU. Peter Parker said "fuck it" and picked up Tony Stark, demanding that one of the sorcerers open a portal to a hospital that deals with radiation exposures. Shuri directs them to Wakanda, the two teens walking through a portal opened by Wong to her lab. Tony is ultimately saved.

Harry Potter. When a mandatory screening is done of all DMLE and Ministry employees after one is found affected by compulsions, it is discovered that Harry Potter and Hermione Granger Weasley were repeatedly dosed with love potions since Hogwarts. [I'm sorta working my way through this story, but ever so slowly.]

NCIS. Tony DiNozzo's resignation from NCIS was a feint. He's actually on assignment to discover just how badly Ziva David has screwed the Agency and the United States with her years of espionage. It is a joint operation with Interpol, British Intelligence, and certain high-ranking officials in the Israeli government who want to know exactly what Eli David was doing during his tenure at Mossad.

These story ideas are open to anyone who might also be interested in exploring them. I only ask that you send the link to the story to me and give me credit for the basic idea, if you would.

[hermioneficrecs]

Fic Rec #295

The Granger Feint  by Mary Royale

Hermione x Marcus Flint x Adrian Pucey

The Ministry of Magic is recovering from the Wizarding War. Fines? Most families can deal with those. Threatening to make former Death Eaters wards of the state with the Ministry in control of their vaults? Not so much. Marcus Flint and Adrian Pucey decide to take a gamble and enlist the biggest champion of underdogs they know. Will she accept their unlikely proposal?

WIP as of 20/11/17

[ihsnamih]

Imagine how Ron would have reacted.

[secretkeeper13]

Christmas with Cormac

I’ve had a lot less free time for writing these days (unfortunately), so I’m glad I was able to participate in the Harry-Ginny Discord’s Minor Character March Challenge. Thanks to Liza for organizing the challenge and @thedistantdusk for being a fantastic beta ❤   It’s no secret that I love writing Hinny from an outsider POV, and I hope you all enjoy the incomparable Cormac McLaggen!  On Ao3 and teaser below.

He was surprised when she asked him. Or rather, he was surprised that it was Granger that asked him, because of course there wouldn’t be a shortage of witches who wanted to be his date. Tall, good-looking blokes who were top at Quidditch would always be in high demand at Hogwarts, to say nothing of his impressive connections. Honestly, if he hadn’t said yes to her, there would’ve been more girls angling for a date with him than he could shake his wand at. After all, old Sluggy’s Christmas party was the talk of Hogwarts, and those who weren’t one of the select few to get an invitation would do anything to get one.

It happened while he was minding his own in his favorite velvet armchair in the common room, his long legs propped on a faded gold tufted ottoman as he discussed the Puddlemere game with his fellow seventh year, David Graves.

“Of course Williams missed the snitch– I told you, he’s losing his touch. But if Wood didn’t miss that easy save right after he came off the bench, Puddlemere would’ve still managed to win by ten.”

“Come off it, Cormac. It wasn’t an easy save, it was a penalty shot,” said David.

He scoffed. “Please. Wood fell for the obvious feint to the left. I would’ve saved it easily. But then, I’ve got nearly six inches on him in height- Wood’s at a disadvantage for a keeper because he’s shorter. Honestly, I’m surprised he was even scouted.”

“He’s in line for reserve player of the year!”

“Well, that just shows you what a shortage of good keepers there are in the league right now. Really, it’s like I always say-“

Before he could finish, he was interrupted by Lavender Brown’s shrill giggle as she tugged Ron Weasley across the common room, Weasley following behind her like a dog. When they neared the portrait hole, Weasley stumbled over his own feet in the process, and nearly fell over the step.

Cormac snorted with laughter. Merlin, Weasley was as clumsy on his feet as he was in the air.

The portrait slammed shut behind the pair. Before he could continue the conversation where he’d left off, he heard the snap of a book closing. He looked in the direction of the sound and saw Hermione Granger striding purposefully toward him from her table on the opposite side of the room, her jaw set and her frizzy brown hair bouncing with each step.

“Hi Cormac,” she greeted him, a determined glint in her eye.

“Hello Hermione.” He was confused as to why she came over to speak to him, since they rarely interacted outside of the Slug Club dinners.

“Do you have a date to Professor Slughorn’s Christmas party?” she asked, not bothering with any small talk, her tone direct and business-like.

Ah, so that’s how it was then. He grinned at her and his eyes raked up her body. True, Granger wasn’t the best looking girl in their house, but when she did herself up for Sluggy’s dinners and tamed her hair, she was pretty enough.

“I hadn’t gotten around to asking anyone yet,” he replied, careful to keep his tone casual.  

Her eyes gleamed in the firelight. “Perfect- because I was wondering if you’d like to go to the party together?”  

Granger wouldn’t necessarily be his first choice for a date, but his good looks, social status, and natural athletic abilities made it hard to find a worthy partner at Hogwarts. Certainly, there was no denying she seemed keen, and in his experience, an eager girl was always promising for his prospects for getting off at the end of the night.

“Alright then. Meet you here in the common room at eight on Friday then?” he replied, with a wink.

He couldn’t quite read her expression- her eyes narrowed for a moment, almost in a vengeful way, but then shifted to a look of… triumph? He never could make much sense of academic types like her.

“Brilliant.” And with that, she turned on her heel, and walked to the staircase to the girls’ dormitories.

She probably can’t wait to brag to the other girls that she’s landed a date with me, he thought. In fact, he’d bet several galleons that she’d asked him directly because other girls were dropping hints they wanted to go with him. A smart witch like Granger would take matters into her own hands.

“Well now,” David said, jolting him from his thoughts. “That was interesting.”

He grinned. “She seemed quite keen didn’t she?”

“She did,” David agreed. “Never really pictured Hermione Granger as your type, though. She’s a bit uptight.”

True, Granger was the typical straight-laced prefect, but unlike David, Cormac knew enough about witches to know that her type offered great potential.

“Trust me, mate. Those types are always looking to blow off steam. My Uncle Tiberius still goes on about the time he shagged the Head Girl in the Prefect’s bathroom his seventh year. It’s like he always says, ‘The tightest coiled spring gives the biggest bounce.’” Cormac waggled his eyebrows.

David laughed. “You really think Hermione Granger’s going to shag you at the end of the night?”

“Didn’t I tell you she was staring at me the whole time at Quidditch trials?” He still recalled her gaze boring into him from the stands. “She’s intense.”

“I’ll give you that, but it doesn’t mean you’ll get in her knickers at the end of the night.”

“Don’t care as much if I get in her knickers, as long as she gets in mine.”

Yes, Cormac thought, as David’s laughter rang out around him, Sluggy’s party was sure to be a good time. 

Read the rest on Ao3 (there’s Hinny, and some Romione too, I promise)

[gnarf]

AU Prompt, if you're still looking: Person A does glass restoration: Stained glass, blown glass, magic glass, non-magic glass. Person B is an epic klutz. Maybe Person A feints at the sight of blood. Maybe Person B is a walking calamity. Maybe there's no shame in plastic wine glasses.

Hi dear 😆 this prompt is amazing, but I only know it from the perspective of the epic klutz... So I'll give it my best 😂😂

The first time Potter had stepped foot into his shop, Draco was surprised, but in no way prepared for what that meant.

Potter had looked rather sheepish, cradling a brown paper bag, his hand wrapped in bandages.

Turned out that Potter had accidentally destroyed one of Granger's beloved possessions and was sent by her to get it fixed and not show up again before it wasn't done.

When Draco opened the bag he could see the remains of what was supposed a tiny glass hummingbird.

"Her parents gave it to her after she finished Hogwarts," Potter had said, looking as ashamed as he should be. "It had a spell on it so it could fly. It scared me, thought it's a fly or something and batted at it. Can you fix it?"

Of course he could. Draco hadn't found anything he couldn't fix yet. It took him quite a while, and lots of mumbled curses directed at Potter, but at the end the tiny bird could fly again.

He dropped it off at Granger's in person, not trusting Potter to do so without harming it again.

Which was smart. Very smart as he had to realise.

After Potter had visited him for the first time he became something like Draco's best customer. At some point Draco had banned him from stepping foot into his shop. Potter was not to be trusted anywhere near delicate glassware, as if his constant visits weren't enough of an indicator for that one. Draco had to figure this out by Potter breaking a custom order in one of his shelves by merely looking at it. (He had sneezed while looking at the plate, hitting his head on the shelf, making the plate tumble and fall alongside other less valuable things.)

From there on Draco received letters, telling him that Potter broke something again and begged him to come and fix it.

Windows, plates, glasses, vases, more figurines than Draco could count. They all became Potter's victims.

He didn't know where Potter found all those things to break, obviously Potter lived in a house made entirely out of glass decor that he hid each time Draco got there.

It only dawned on him that maybe, just maybe, Potter was up to something after he had fixed the same ugly figurine for the fifth time.

"If I wouldn't know better, Potter," Draco sighed dramatically after fixing yet another vase, "I'd say you're breaking this stuff on purpose. But that'd be stupid. I can't do anything unlawful or sneaky while I'm spending most of my time here."

The laugh Potter answered him with sounded forced, and when Draco looked up the idiot was blushing. Blushing! So maybe he wasn't entirely wrong. Potter surely was up to something, now he only had to figure out what it was.

[hiyasdoodles]

‘Want to make this interesting, Granger?’ Draco said.

His voice was low and dangerous and sent a delightful shiver down Hermione’s spine. She forced herself to focus on his words, not how he was saying them.

‘What do you mean?’ Hermione asked warily, not dropping her wand.

‘Winner gets a favour granted by the loser.’

Hermione scoffed. ‘I’m not giving you carte blanche like that, Malfoy.’

Draco watched her with his trademark cunning behind his silver eyes. ‘Alright then. How about a kiss?’

- Feint of Heart by @aneiria-writes and @hiyasdoodles

[dramioneasks]

HP Fests: Mad Frankenstein Fest 2020

July - September 2020:

All Mixed Up by Pargcool - G, one-shot - You’ve got to be kidding me. Hermione froze, her eyes fixed on the back of the man wiping down the bar counter. Lydia—according to her name tag—didn’t seem to notice her sudden lack of attention and continued her introductory spiel. The words faded into the background, Hermione’s gaze narrowing on the back of the bartender’s head. She’d only seen that bright platinum hair once before, but surely it was just a coincidence. What the hell would Draco Malfoy be doing in a random muggle bar?

Architectural Symmetry by MissELY, Wolfqng - T, one-shot - Draco Malfoy hadn't planned on setting foot in Malfoy Manor ever again. Maybe to set it on fire. So when he and his curse-breaking partner, Hermione Granger, were assigned to go there he dashed off a response to their supervisor "Under no circumstances will we take this bloody assignment, are you out of your mind? -DLM" Hermione, however, had other ideas

Breaking the wall by DaniiiAnn, VGinny - T, one-shot - The prompt was Healers or Co-workers at St Mungo's. It's seven years since the war, Draco is a speciality Healer and Hermione is his Solicitor. His experimental healing has put his career and the hospital in trouble. Would Hermione be able to help the former enemy get out of trouble?

Chrysopoeia by hiyas, monsterleadmehome - T, one-shot - Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy both have their personal reasons for studying Alchemy, but when they decide to work together to develop a new Panacea, they discover more than they bargained for.

Cuando Pienso en Ti by LilithShade, TakingFlight48 - E, one-shot - Giving back to the magical community with her flourishing Philanthropic organization, Rennervate, would have been much simpler if Draco Malfoy would just leave Hermione Granger alone. It's time Draco learned that the Rumba was a dance for two, because although each encounter increased the heated passion between the two of them, Hermione will walk away if he cannot change his playboy ways.

Feint of Heart by Aneiria, hiyas - E, 3 Chapters - ‘Want to make this interesting, Granger?’ Draco said. His voice was low and dangerous and sent a delightful shiver down Hermione’s spine. She forced herself to focus on his words, not how he was saying them. ‘What do you mean?’ Hermione asked warily, not dropping her wand. ‘Winner gets a favour granted by the loser.’ Hermione scoffed. ‘I’m not giving you carte blanche like that, Malfoy.’ Draco watched her with his trademark cunning behind his silver eyes. ‘Alright then. How about a kiss?’

Mandatory Electives by DracosQuill, PhoenixDragon111 (Phoenix_Dragon) - M, one-shot - Hermione and Draco are tasked with revamping Hogwarts’ Mandatory Elective curriculum. What will happen when they come together?

The Melody of Touch by magical_traveler - E, one-shot - One of Hermione Granger’s favorite things about playing in an orchestra was when the orchestra began to warm up on stage. Tonight, however, was a different story. The London Philharmonic and guest pianist, Draco Malfoy, were performing together in concert. The program was beautiful but Hermione halted at the fact she would have to sit on a stage and perform music with him. They would be making something together. But all she could think about was the way his fingers caressed the piano keys, and the fact her body knew what it felt like to be touched by those same fingers.

Nontrivial Pursuits by senlinyu, sleeplessai - M, one-shot - Draco had a plan: reach the end of his probation, get promoted, and finally ask Granger out. Unfortunately, as his supervisor in the Ministry Archive, Granger seemed to be resistant to all Draco’s ideas on principle. The last thing he expected her to go along with was a trivia strip competition, and yet, somehow, here they were. “Do you have to?” Granger’s voice was sharp and jumped slightly at the last syllable. Draco glanced up and found that she was staring at him, the hollows of her cheeks a faint pink. He unfastened the cuff on his left sleeve without looking down and watched the pink transform into a stunning shade of red as he folded the fabric up to his elbow. She sucked her lower lip into her mouth and bit down on it visibly. “Have to what?” he said with a lazy grin. She made an incomprehensible noise somewhere in the base of her throat and looked away. “You’ll be losing your shirt soon enough anyway, I don’t know why you need to bother rolling up your sleeves.”

A Promise To Please by hslades, mia_moriarty - E, one-shot - Hermione Granger was great at most things, as such it didn't come as a surprise she was a great Quidditch Commentator. However, after her All-Star Seeker boyfriend, Draco Malfoy gets gravely injured in front of her eyes, she struggles to stay professional and keep their secret. Can Hermione keep her cool while trying to give Draco the healing touch he requires to overcome a grave injury? “You were wicked, love. I’d almost get injured again just so I could justify you retaking the reigns.” “Don’t!” She playfully slapped his chest, “Joke!”*slap* “About!” *slap* “Getting!”*slap* “Injured!”

Rebirth by elithien, senlinyu - M, one-shot - Granger will do almost anything to survive the curse slowly killing her, even if it means reawakening magic that has been dormant for a thousand years. Draco will do whatever it takes to save her “Draco...” she says again, fingertips fondly brushing across his cheekbone. He opens his eyes and finds her staring at him. “Before I do this, I want you to know—“ His heart lurches. “Don’t,” he says before she can say another word. “Don’t say it.” He catches her wrist and pulls her hand away from his face, careful not to smudge any of the words scripted across her skin. “I don’t want you to tell me.”

Roots & Recesses by ExpositorRevan (Naydras), simplifiedemotions - T, one-shot - “Her nephew working with the Mudblood to decommission her wand. Bellatrix must be rolling in her grave.”

Second Chances by PixieKisses - E, 2 Chapters - After years of working closely with Hermione Granger, Draco meets two children who end up changing his whole life.

Small Mercies by JessiRomantic, Kkpwnall - E, one-shot - Draco Malfoy had been working with Hermione Granger in the small bakery that occupied the ruins of the boathouse for eight years. For the last year, they have grown closer. But the 10th year anniversary of the battle racks up the tension to a new high.

A Turn of Phrase by AkaiaOwl, MissyJAnne85 - M, 4 Chapters - “A book deal? I thought the Malfoy inheritance guaranteed you wouldn’t have to work a day in your life.” “Do you write for money Granger?” She snorted at the ridiculous thought. “Of course not!” “Why do you assume I do?” he asked. A story about how Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy turned the page after the war and found each other in the process. Written for the MF Fest - Dramione coworkers challenge. Prompt: Authors.

Tylwyth Teg - Fairies on a Welsh Mountain by Ernestin3, FedonCiadale - G, one-shot -  Draco Malfoy, on probation in the department for the surveillance of magical creatures, is ordered by his boss, Luna Lovegood to collect tears from the elusive Welsh fairies for a much needed potion. Of all people, it is Hermione Granger, the witch from the Department of Law who is to come along. Will Draco finally be able to curb his tongue and tell her all the compliments that are in his head?

Unforeseen by ectoheart, riane_b13 - M, 2 Chapters - Hermione Granger was going to fail something for the first time in her life. Hermione Granger was going to fail something for the first time in her life and it was next to Draco Malfoy of all people. When she decided she wanted to become an Unspeakable she thought that it would take a lot of studying and hard work. She didn't think it would take a drawer full of leather, or a six-inch stiletto. Of course, Draco would be perfect at everything. Of course, everyone would love him. Of course, he would look positively sinful in everything he wore. It should be illegal for a man to look that good at seven in the morning. She needed a cup of coffee, she needed a stiff drink, she needed to get laid and she needed to pass these exams. Hermione Granger did not fail.

Ungentlemanly Behavior by MissELY, morticiahavisham - E, one-shot - After a tipsy hook up, Draco Malfoy has an apology to make. Hermione Granger would prefer not to hear it. But when they're forced to work together on a tricky translation, she's finds she can't avoid it.

Unyielding by Ernestin3, HeyJude19 - T, one-shot - Do you yield? She hated uttering that phrase whenever she bested Draco, but it was the standard protocol for ending a duel wherein both participants remained conscious. Hermione could count the instances on one hand in the four years they’d been partners that one of them had been Stunned. Do you yield? It clawed at her. It ate at her to demand this of another person when her own wand carried with it such a conceptually contrary and dubious description. Unyielding. No, not her own wand, she thought bitterly. The wand of Bellatrix Lestrange.

Your Latest Competition by ahoidraco, theheavycrown - T, one-shot - Hermione ventures into new professional waters after a career start at the Ministry, opening a shop in Wizarding London. Her café is well-received until it quickly becomes the target of Draco Malfoy's personal vendetta. If only Hermione knew why. Written for the July-September Mad Frankenstein Fest 2020.

[coffeestainsandcashmere]

Happy late birthday! :D In my rereading of dark and bright I was imagining how would be the conversation between Draco and Theo about Hermione's birthday, like "And then Draco you will give her the cards." "But...." "No buts. For the love of all the founders Draco. You just have to give her the cards!" And now I've been laughing for 5 minutes

My hand slipped and 1.2k words fell out: (for those wondering where this fits, it mirrors Chapter Six of ‘Dark and Bright’, but can be read as a stand-alone).

“Draco…” Theo mused, looking up slowly at his boyfriend across their shared bedroom in the dungeons.

Nodding off on his own four-poster after a particularly gruelling Saturday quidditch practice, Draco scowled, and then lifted an eyebrow when he caught the look on Theo’s face. “What?” he asked flatly. “That tone of voice always means you’re plotting something. What are you scheming this time?”

“You know it’s Gr-Granger’s birthday next weekend?”

Draco blinked, clearly taken by surprise. “It is?” That meant she was older than both of them, and Draco was the baby of the lot. His scowl deepened.

“Mmm,” Theo hummed, sitting up from where he’d also been reclining like a Roman on his bed, and he swung his long, slim legs down so that his black socks met the green, woven rug beside the bed. “Scrivenshaft’s is still open on Sundays, right?”  

With a cavernous sigh, Draco nodded, and the very next day, the two boys had made the walk into Hogsmeade in the rain and were perusing the - admittedly limited - selection of magical birthday cards in the poky little shop.  

Theo shoved one under Draco’s nose and he instantly recoiled, lip curling in his trademark sneer, as a cloud of sickly-sweet rose scent billowed up into the air. Draco sneezed. “No,” he spluttered, reeling away. “Merlin, that’s strong.”

Theo just laughed and put it pack in the display before barking a loud laugh. “This one,” he said, and drew out a one bearing a cauldron and a copy of Advanced Potion Making. “It’s perfect.”

He turned to show his boyfriend, but paused when he caught sight of Draco trailing his fingers over the front of one card in particular, and his shoulders dropped. A soft, fond smile crept over Theo’s face and he chuckled, stepping close to Draco and kissing his cheek.

“Also perfect,” he whispered, and Draco flushed predictably. “Don’t get cocky - I meant the c-card!” he added with a grin, dancing out of reach of a smack on the arm from Draco a second later.  

The morning of Granger’s birthday dawned grey and really fucking miserable, but that wasn’t exactly unusual for autumn in the Highlands. “There she is,” Theo said under his breath as they sat at the Slytherin table ahead of the morning rush. He jutted his chin at the Gryffindor table. “Fuck me…” he hissed. “Is it just me or does she look even better in muggle clothing than she does in that blouse?” His eyes lingered on the way her jeans hugged the curves of her hips and arse in particular. ‘That blouse’ was one that was half a size too small, and did incredibly distracting things to her chest when she leaned forwards in Potions.  

“That blouse is bloody perfect,” Draco replied through clenched teeth, staring doggedly into the depths of his stupendously strong coffee. Somehow he’d managed to evaporate off two thirds of the water from a normal mug to turn it into a sludgy approximation of an espresso, with enough strength to give a centaur a heart attack. 

Without looking around, Hermione took her seat alone at the nearly empty table facing them, settling herself with deliberate care, rolling up the sleeves of her hoodie before pouring herself a coffee.  

“I could watch her all day,” Theo half sighed, chin sinking into his hand, elbow propped on the table.

“You said you were going to watch me all day,” Draco pouted.  

With a laugh, Theo picked up a grape and wiggled it in front of Draco’s still-pouting lips. “And I will, darling. Most attentively. You know what the sight of you in that qu-quidditch kit does to me - or perhaps you’d like to find out right now?” he asked, reaching coyly for Draco’s pale hand and pretending to move it towards his crotch. If he’d succeeded in that without Draco yanking his hand back, Draco would probably have found him at least halfway interested; mostly from seeing Hermione’s perfect arse, but being seated next to Draco in his quidditch gear was not helping matters either.  

Draco rolled his eyes but ruined it by laughing suddenly, his icy facade fracturing for just a moment, and Theo chalked it up as a victory.  

He’d been so absorbed in watching Draco’s face change like the landscape when the sun comes out, that they almost missed Granger leaving. Theo dug Draco in the ribs. “Now’s your chance. Remember that you look bloody spectacular at the moment, but try not to be too cold…”

Draco’s white eyebrows pinched into a scowl.  

“No, no, no,” Theo laughed. “Stop that. Go and give her the cards. Right now.”  

“But…” Draco began, his already frayed courage faltering.  

“No buts,” Theo said fiercely. “Oh for the love of all the founders Draco. You have to give her the cards! Don’t you get it? It has to be you. Or she’ll think I roped you into it, and that you don’t care.”

With an indistinct growl, Draco left, and Theo watched him, unaware that he was nearly biting his lower lip hard enough to draw blood until he almost tasted it on his tongue.  

He watched with a leaden stomach as Draco artlessly yelled Granger’s name across the entrance hall, then stuck his hand out, proffering the cards to her like they were a dirty handkerchief she’d just accidentally dropped.  

“Oh Merlin, Drake,” Theo groaned, dropping his head to his hands and running his fingers through his raucous curls. “Please don’t fuck this up. Where’s all that pureblood class and poise now for fuck’s sake…?”

To his surprise, however, Draco appeared not to fuck anything up too severely, and Hermione even shot Theo a warm look over Draco’s shoulder. He grinned at her, ignoring the nervous, acrid flutter of doxy wings in his stomach, and prayed to all the Founders that Hermione wouldn’t think them insincere.  

Draco turned and fled almost the very moment she had the cards in her hand, looking so pale Theo thought he might pass out, but Hermione’s eyes were on his delectable backside, so Theo allowed himself the luxury of a smirk. When Draco took his seat beside him, he let out a long breath and cursed something colourful involving Salazar’s underthings that Theo hadn’t wanted to think about, and downed the rest of his coffee.  

There was no point in hiding their interest in her reaction, and when she looked up from reading the cards, the soft, delighted, almost tearful expression on her face made Theo’s stomach swoop like he’d pulled off a Wronski Feint. It was a wonder he didn’t lose his breakfast entirely.  

Her lips articulated the words ‘thank you’, and Theo inclined his head, too pleased for anything else. Draco had frozen beside him, looking like he’d swallowed a flobberworm, and he clutched his long fingers tightly for a moment.

“That wasn’t so bad?” Theo asked as a great whoop from the stairs made them look back to find Ginny Weasley and half the Gryffindor team piling in around poor Hermione until all that as visible of her was a few corkscrews of hair sticking up out of the pile of red and gold. Theo ached suddenly to be able to touch her like that, but he schooled himself to patience.  

“She asked me if they were howlers,” Draco said flatly, and Theo nearly spat his tea across the table as relieved laughter burbled up inside him. 

___

If you enjoyed, please reblog and share! I’m new to the fandom on here and appreciate all the help I can get!

___

writing masterlist | Ao3

[fanfictionaries]

Oh So Many Years: Ch. 12 - December

Pairing: Hermione Granger x Fred Weasley

Summary:

The Yule Ball has been announced and Fred Weasley has made the sinking realization that he’s completely and utterly attracted to Hermione Granger. But is he the only one with seemingly unrequited feelings?

So many questions and yet the biggest one of all: Who is taking Hermione Granger to the ball?

Warnings: Swearing, Death, Smut/18+ NSFW

Author’s Note:

I'M SO SO SO SORRY THIS WAS LATE! The week got away from me and before I knew it, it was Sunday and I hadn't written ANYTHING. So, I ended up writing this entire chapter in one day and fell asleep editing it. I hope you guys like this chapter as much as I do!

I update every week before midnight on Sundays (US MST) (except for this time...ha ha ha...)!

Please feel free to like, comment, and reblog! xoxo

Masterlist

<<Chapter 11

  December come to me I hope I can see You not just in dreams

I will let you be

Why can't you believe

How much you really mean

 Hermione sat in the library, feeling more on edge than she ever had in her life. Krum was due to meet her at any moment and all she could think about was…her face heated just thinking about it. She’d had the dream again. No, not her nightmare. Her nights of fear inducing dreams were long gone ever since she started spending most of her days with the twins. No, she had had the dream again. The one that left her stomach in heated knots and raised her pulse to a terrifying level. While the dream started the same as last time – the library, the couple, the hands on her body and lips kissing up her neck – this time, when she turned to catch a glimpse of the fiery red hair, the world spun around her. It spun and spun until she realized the world wasn’t spinning at all – she was. She was dancing, turning circles in space as the same pair of hands held her close. Her mind fought tooth and nail to catch a glimpse of the mystery man, but it was as if her spine was fused – unable to look anywhere but straight ahead. Who was it and why did they turn her hot and feverish? Why did she melt at just the thought of their embrace?

When she awoke that morning, sweaty and out of breath, she couldn’t ignore the thrumming of her heart at the apex of her thighs. Shifting in her seat, she tried to quell the achy feeling starting to rise just from the brief memory of her subconscious escapades. Fully expecting to become a jumbled mess of embarrassment and arousal, she was nervous to see Ron in History of Magic that morning. However, much to her pleasure and confusion, when she saw him, she felt nothing more than a slight heat on her face which she attributed to nerves over how she might feel, rather than a true reaction due to her dream. Perhaps her ability to compose herself was better than she thought. The possibility quelled her racing mind, but she couldn’t ignore the small nagging voice in the back of her head that said she knew more than one person with red hair.

“Hello, боец, you are vell, yes?” Krum’s voice broke Hermione from her thoughts. She jumped, dropping the heavy book in her hands onto the parchment covered table with a muffled thud.

“Viktor hello. Yes, I’m doing quite well,” greeted Hermione breathlessly. “I can call you Viktor, correct?”

“You can call me vhatever you vant, боец,” said Viktor, giving her a reserved smile that Hermione found to be quite charming.

“Ah, yes. Well, I suppose if we’re going to be studying together, I should probably introduce myself properly—” she extended a hand to him “—Hello Viktor, my name is Hermione Granger. It’s very nice to meet you.”

“Hermy-own?” said Viktor with great difficulty as he shook her hand. His full lips twisted and stumbled over the vowels and consonants.

Hermione laughed nervously. “No, no. Hermione. Like this: Her-my-oh-nee,” she spoke slowly, sounding out her name bit by bit.

Viktor’s brows scrunched in concentration as he repeated her to the best of his abilities, “Her-my-oh-ninny.”

“Close enough,” sighed Hermione in good nature, gesturing for Viktor to take a seat across from her.

He surprised her by seating himself in the chair next to her with ease. Or at least as much ease as possible for the tall Bulgarian. He was surprisingly uncoordinated for someone who flew with such grace on the quidditch field. The one advantage to seeing Viktor Krum off of his broom, however, was the ability to see just how handsome he was. He had a very pleasing face, with a broad brow, sharp cheekbones, strong nose, and equally strong jawline. Yes, he was really quite handsome, Hermione thought indulgently as she observed him. His black hair was cropped exceedingly short, which Hermione thought was a shame – she quite liked the way longer hair looked on men. Feeling as though she had been staring for much too long, Hermione turned back to her book as Viktor pulled out a notebook, quill, and ink.

“This library – it is much larger than the one at home,” commented Viktor casually.

Hermione looked up from her book again and glanced around at the tall shelves, expansive stone walls, and large tapestries. “Really? What is your school like?” she asked curiously. While she had read everything she could on Durmstrang, she had been left wanting – the Bulgarians were quite secretive.

“Vell, it is a castle much like yours, but it is much smaller. Ve have less students, I am thinking. The library is smaller, but you do not have all the same books here, I have noticed. Ve do not have a, what you call a restricted section,” said Viktor thoughtfully.

“Really?” asked Hermione in surprise.

“Yes. Ve do not view knowledge as good or bad at Durmstrang. Just knowledge.”

“I’ve always thought the same thing,” said Hermione excitedly, mindful to keep her volume low with her increased enthusiasm. She didn’t need to be kicked out of the library a second time that year. “I think knowledge should be accessible to everyone. Sure, some things can be quite vile, but it’s not the magic that makes the witch or wizard bad and a bad person will find the information out one way or another if they really want it. Tell me more about Durmstrang.”

“It gets very cold in the vinters and the fires are only lit for classes and such. So ve vear heavy cloaks to keep us varm. But in the spring and summer, you should see the grounds. Vhile our castle is smaller than yours, the grounds are triple the size! Ve vill fly for hours over the mountains and lakes. It is beautiful,” said Viktor proudly. Hermione tried to imagine a school with grounds triple the size of Hogwarts. She already felt like the space around her school was expansive.

“That sounds lovely,” responded Hermione with a smile.

“Do you fly, Herm-own-ninny?”

“Oh no—” Hermione chuckled bashfully “—I’m quite afraid of heights if I’m being honest. But I love quidditch. I think the sport is so fascinating. The theory and tactics behind it are very interesting and of course the talent it takes to fly the way some players do is very impressive. Like you, for example—”

Viktor raised his dark, thick brows in surprise.

“—I saw you at the world cup, you know. You’re an excellent flyer. Even Harry agreed. He was quite impressed with your…oh what was it…oh! The Wronski Feint. Does that sound right?”

“Yes, yes! That is vone of my favorites. Unfortunately, ve did not vin…” Viktor trailed off, frowning as if the loss of the world cup was still a freshly open wound.

“Yes, but you ended things on your own terms,” said Hermione, remembering Harry’s explanation for Viktor’s catching of the snitch while Ireland was up by 160 points.

Viktor perked up at her comment. “Yes, that’s exactly it! Ve vould not be able to catch up, I knew that. Their chasers vere too good.”

“So, you caught the snitch to end the game with only a loss of ten point, as opposed to three hundred and ten,” concluded Hermione, settling comfortably into her seat. She felt much more relaxed now than she did when Viktor had first sat down.

Viktor smiled at her in appraisal. “That is exactly vhat I did. You are very smart Harmony. Smart and strong.”

Hermione blushed at his compliment, tucking a loose curl behind her ear, and looking down at her textbook shyly. Still, she couldn’t fight off the smile that formed on her face at his praise. They were silent for a moment, both of them turning to their work to fill the time. Afterall, they were there to study.

Hermione was just finishing her chapter when Viktor spoke again, “Have you heard of the ball that is happening at Christmas time?”

Hermione looked up, finding an earnest Viktor staring back at her. “Yes, they announced it formally last night with some unfortunate dance lessons as well. Did you have something similar?”

“No, ve at Durmstrang learn how to dance first and second year. It is expected that ve know how, for formal events vhen ve are older,” said Viktor.

“How fortunate,” said Hermione. “I was lucky enough to have my dad teach me a bit when I was younger. My mum and dad like to play the radio in the kitchen and sometimes on Sunday mornings my dad will pull me away from whatever I’m reading at the table and make me dance with him.” She smiled at the memory, feeling a small pang of homesickness. It was high time she sent her parents a letter – with all her extra time spent with Fred and George her weekly letters home had dissolved into a dismal once or twice a month.

“That sounds very nice,” responded Viktor genuinely before clearing his throat and looking down at his folded hands on the table. “Perhaps you vould like to accompany me to the ball?”

“Pardon?” Hermione pulled out of her innocent musing of home with confusion. Surely, she must have heard him wrong because she could have sworn Viktor Krum just asked her to the Yule Ball.

“The ball – vould you like to go vith me?”

The question hung in the air – Viktor looking expectantly at Hermione as she tried to comprehend it. Viktor Krum wanted to go to the Yule Ball with her?

“Why?” The question blurted out before she could stop herself.

Krum blinked in surprise. He took a moment to mull her words before answering, “Vell, I think you are very pretty. You are very smart, and you have the heart of a fighter. Vhy not?”

Hermione was struck – mouth gaping and brain short-circuiting. Viktor Krum thought she was pretty. Out of all the girls in the school to pick, and there were many available girls as the ball was only announced the day before, and he chose her. Answer him you daft airhead, her brain screamed as she still delayed her response.

“Of course, if you already are going with someone then—”

“No, no. I’m not,” Hermione reassured him in a panicky manner.

“Then you are just not interested or…?”

“No—I just…Can I have some time to…think about it or something?”

Krum stared hard at her for a moment, before nodding with a small smile.

“It’s not that I don’t want to go with you—” Hermione sat forward, running her hands through her frizzy curls and pushing them out of her face as she rambled “—it’s just I don’t know you very well. Perhaps we should get to know each other a bit more first. It’s important that we know each other before we decide to go together, otherwise we’d get there and risk finding out that we can’t stand each other. But please don’t think that I’m just delaying an inevitable ‘no’ to be nice. I swear—”

“Of course, Herm-oh-nee. Take all the time you need. Until then, ve vill spend more time together. Yes?”

Hermione was grateful for the interruption of her nervous babbling. Any second longer and she was sure to make such a fool of herself that Viktor might rescind his offer. “Yes, I would like that.”

Viktor stood, collecting his things, and placing them in his bag. Hermione glanced at the large grandfather clock across the study area and noticed it was almost time for Charms. She stood too, placing her book in her bag. Once the two were packed up, they headed towards the exit of the library. It was just outside the large double doors that the two parted ways, headed in opposite directions of the castle for class. Expecting his usual bow of departure, Hermione was surprised when instead Viktor grabbed her right hand in his and brought the back of it up to his lips. She blushed something furious, her face growing hot as embers as his soft lips brushed the sensitive skin. Then he was gone, and she was left to gawk in his direction as a bubbling glee built up in her chest.

The joyous moment was cut short however by her two troublesome shadows.

“My, my, my…was that Viktor Krum?” asked one twin as the two of them rounded the corner.

“You know, you two really must stop spying on me. It’s getting sad and weird,” said Hermione, rolling her eyes and turning away from the two ginger boys as she headed in the direction of her Charms class.

“Excuse you missy. We were not spying. We were merely walking by and decided to stop and watch the show,” said who she now recognized as George.

“Hmmm,” responded Hermione flatly, continuing to walk.

“So, what did Viktor want?” asked George.

“None of your business George Fabian Weasley.”

“I’m wounded—” George held a hand up to his heart “—we simply want to be a part of your life, Hermione. You know, be good friends and all.”

“Sure, you do,” she grumbled.

“I don’t think she believed me. Back me up, Freddie,” said George turning to his brother.

Hermione waited to hear Fred’s familiar sarcastic quip and cheeky tone but was surprised when all he did was give a distracted hum. She turned her head, looking at Fred fully for the first time. Catching his hazel eyes, he looked at her with an indistinguishable expression. Her heart clenched painfully in her chest and the heat that had occupied her face shot south, leaving a burning sensation in her lower stomach. Oh no, thought Hermione quickly looking away from Fred and instead focusing on the grey stone beneath her feet. They reached the Charms classroom a moment later, much to her relief. She made to head into the room, but a long arm extended in front of her, blocking her path.

“I have class. Can’t you just save your routine till tonight? I’ll laugh and everything,” promised Hermione, trying her best to keep her voice light and not show the inner turmoil she was currently experiencing.

“About that – change of plans.”

“What? Are we not meeting at the usual place?”

“No, Fred and I have a bit of a surprise for you—” George looked to his twin with a pointed stare “—isn’t that right Freddie?”

Fred, who had been staring off down the hall, turned to his brother and nodded distractedly. If Hermione hadn’t been trying so desperately to get away from Frederick Weasley and into the safety of her classroom, she would have noted his odd behavior. But instead, she raised a curious brow at George.

“Right—” George stared at his twin with an odd expression before looking back down at Hermione “—meet us in the common room after dinner and make sure to bring Harry and Ron along as well. It’s really a surprise for all three of you.”

“Okay, yeah, we’ll be there,” Hermione said before ducking under George’s arm and disappearing into the classroom. She found Harry and Ron already seated a few rows back from the front and took her chair between the two of them.

“Are you alright, Hermione?” asked Harry as she stared down at the desk in front of her breathing deeply in through her nose.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she squeaked, before taking out her notebook and writing utensils.

It all made sense and simultaneously no sense at all. Fred was the person in her dreams. It explained the dancing certainly. It also explained the timing. The first time she’d had the dream was the night Fred found her in the hallway and walked her back to the tower. He had held her in his arms that night, even held her hand. At the time she thought nothing of it, but clearly her subconscious had been squirreling away those brief moments of contact and saving them to manifest in an entirely different way. No – this was not good. She didn’t like Fred! He was loud and obnoxious and troublesome. He wasted his potential and squandered his talents. Two things she wholeheartedly disagreed with. He pushed her buttons and got her into trouble. How could she possible like him as anything more than a friend?

The rest of the day went by in a blur, all of Hermione’s waking thoughts dedicated to Frederick Weasley in the worst possible way. By the time dinner was over and she found herself in the common room with Harry and Ron, she had come to decision. She did not like Fred. It was simply her subconscious playing a cruel trick on her. Dreams didn’t mean anything anyways – even if they did happen twice. Dreams were simply an amalgamation of your conscious memories and thoughts mixed into an incoherent jumble as your brain tried to process them at night. They weren’t accurate representations of ones waking feelings. They held zero stake in reality.

Unfortunately, that didn’t keep her heart from stopping when Fred and George emerged from the portrait hole with wide grins as they chuckled mischievously.

“What’s got you two so chuffed?” asked Ron, pulling a chocolate frog from his pocket, and opening the package.

“Just ran into Adrian Pucey in the hallway—”

“—struck him with a nasty sticking charm.”

“Won’t be going anyways for a while,” laughed George, leaning on the back of the couch to peer down at the work in Hermione’s hand. She’d dedicated this time in her day to working on the Canary Creams and was still determined to do so, change of plans or not.

“You can’t do that by the way,” stated George casually as he pointed over her shoulder to a bit of Charms work detailed on the page.

“Excuse you,” sneered Hermione, pushing his hand away. “And just why do you say that?” she asked taking offense.

“Because I’m the Charms master, remember?”

Hermione sighed, knowing begrudgingly that George was right. He was very well adept at Charms work – even better than herself. Slamming the notebook shut, she placed it on a side table and stood.

“Well – what’s this surprise then?” she asked digging into her pocket to distract herself from the two tall ginger boys in front of her. Her fingers closed around one of the hundreds of sugar quills Fred gave her and she pulled it out satisfactorily.

“The whole point of a surprise, my dear Hermione—” began George.

“—is to surprise you with it—" continued Fred.

“—not just tell you!” the two finished together before turning and heading back towards the portrait hole. Ron and Harry followed them, Hermione hanging back as she unwrapped the sugar quill and placed it in her mouth. She trailed behind the four of them as they traveled deeper down into the castle.

“Hey,” said Fred, dropping behind to walk beside her as George boldly led the way.

“Hi,” Hermione responded shyly, worrying the candy in her mouth to calm herself.

“Alright?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

“You?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.”

“Good.”

Hermione felt stiff and uncomfortable, like at any moment her skeleton would relieve itself from its fleshy prison, shedding her skin and running as fast it could from Fred and this painful conversation. The worst part of it was that she knew why she was being weird, but why on earth was he in such a strange mood? For a brief moment, the mortifying thought that perhaps he knew about the dream, flashed into her head, but she quickly brushed it away. That was impossible. There was no way he could know.

The four of them continued further into the castle, heading down stairway after stairway until they were in its deep underbelly. It was when they found themselves in a large, well-lit corridor – the walls adorned with portraits of food – that Hermione realized where they were headed. Harry seemed to have the same realization as he groaned, turning around the look at her.

“Hermione…this isn’t another S.P.E.W. thing, is it?”

“Please don’t let it be a spew thing, Hermione. How many times have I told you – it’s no use! House elves like to work!” exclaimed Ron.

“First of all, it’s not called spew—”

“Oh, what is it now then – the House Elf Liberation Front?” asked Ron sarcastically with a roll of his eyes.

“It’s the Society for the Promotion of Elvish Welfare thank you very much, and secondly in case you didn’t remember, I’m not the one dragging us down here. They are!” She pointed to Fred and George who now held amused grins on their faces.

“Quit your fighting and come on you lot,” laughed George coming to a halt in front of a picture of a large fruit bowl and ticking the green pear. The fruit squirmed and giggled until it turned into a large green door handle. George grabbed hold of the handle and pulled the door open to reveal the cavernous kitchens. Hermione wasn’t quite sure what she imagined the Hogwarts kitchens would look like, but it definitely wasn’t the enormous space in front of her. With ceilings almost as tall as the Great Hall, it seemed to host everything you could even want or need to make a large feast.

“Harry Potter! Oh, it’s Harry Potter!” a squeaky voice yelled out before Hermione heard Harry let out a guttural yelp. Turning to her best friend she saw Harry standing there with a small house elf nearly wrapped entirely around his middle, holding him tightly.

“Dobby?” Harry gasped in surprise.

“Yes sir! Dobby has been waiting and hoping Harry Potter would visit him and now he has!”

Dobby released Harry, stepping back, and allowing Hermione to get a full view of the infamous house elf Harry had told her so much about. He appeared to live up to his description. Long thin nose and batlike ears. However, instead of the filthy pillowcase Harry had described, he donned the strangest assortment of clothing Hermione had ever seen. Dobby wore what appeared to be a tea cozy adorned with brightly colored badges on his head like a hat, a patterned tie with no shirt, shorts, and mismatched socks. However, despite his strange fashion sense, Hermione found Dobby to be quite appealing. His enthusiastic personality and overwhelming love for Harry was enough to make her fond of the little house elf – no matter how odd he was.

“What are you doing here Dobby?” asked Harry.

“Dobby works here, sir! At Hogwarts! Professor Dumbledore has given Dobby and Winky jobs!” proclaimed the small elf proudly. Hermione perked up at the mention of a second house elf she was familiar with.

“Winky’s here?” she asked looking around her to try and spot the poor disgraced house elf she’d met so many months ago.

“Thought that would interest you, Hermione,” said Fred in a knowing manner. “She’s over there by the fire. But be warned, she’s not in a great mood.”

“Or at least she wasn’t when we were here yesterday,” added George with a grimace.

Rounding the corner, Hermione was greeted with a large crowd of busying house elves. They bowed and greeted her kindly as she passed them, spotting a small and slumped figure on a stool by the fire.

“Winky?” she asked hesitantly.

The little creature turned, looking a complete and utter mess. While dressed unarguably more fashionable than Dobby, in a matching blouse and skirt, her clothes were dirty and wrinkled. One look and Hermione could tell she was a very unhappy house elf. That sentiment was only confirmed when Winky burst into large, hysterical tears.

“Winky, oh Winky, please don’t cry,” pleaded Hermione, rushing forwards and placing a hand on Winky’s shoulder. Winky only cried harder. Unsure of what to do, Hermione stepped to the side, allowing Harry to take the lead. She watched in rapt horror as Winky, Bartemius Crouch’s ex-house elf wailed at her failure as a good, loyal elf. The whole thing was so upsetting. So upsetting, in fact, that by the time they left the kitchens – after Harry promised Dobby about a thousand times that they would visit – she was in a whole new kind of bad mood.

“Cheer up, Hermione. Winky will be alright eventually,” said Ron casually as they strode through the halls back up to Gryffindor tower.

“It’s just absolutely horrid. I can’t believe that anyone has allowed this to go on for so long,” cried Hermione, throwing her hands up in the air.

“Now, now. You’re forgetting that house elves like to work. It’s their way. Their tradition,” said Fred, slinging an arm over her and squeezing her shoulder kindly. A gesture that would usually calm and reassure her, made Hermione jump out of her skin, pulling away from Fred and his touch that filled her with new sensations and confusion.

“Yes, and why is that Frederick? Because they’ve been used as slaves by wizarding kind for so long that they’ve been generationally brainwashed into thinking that working for nothing and being treated horribly is some sort of badge of honor!” she shouted at Fred, all of her conflicting feeling bubbling up into one unanimous feeling of anger.

Fred gawked in surprise before responding with equal annoyance, “Well if they were truly so unhappy, they would say so like Dobby. Clearly, they’re smart enough to think for themselves or Dobby wouldn’t be walking around asking to be paid for his work!”

“But even Dobby said he’s been looking for a job for over a year. No one wants to pay a house elf to do work when they ask for it! Don’t you think there should be laws to help him with that kind of discrimination?”

“Sure, but he’s different! If more elves wanted rights, then there would be a demand. But seeing as it’s ONE house elf out of thousands it doesn’t really make sense that they would rewrite legislature,” scoffed Fred.

“But if there was new legislature then perhaps they’d feel more inclined to break away like Dobby—” Hermione ran a hand over her hair, feeling it already growing ten times its size as her anger increased “—you know what? Clearly you are all either too thick or too heartless to understand.”

Pushing past their group she charged forward, determined to put some space between herself and the lot.

“Hermione!” one of the twins called after her.

“Just let her go. She gets like this, but she always gets over it,” said Ron.

“Hermione!” the twin called again, ignoring Ron’s comment.

Continuing to march ahead of them, she made it as far as the end of the hallway before a pair of arms wrapped around her middle and lifted her into the air. Hermione let out a cry of surprise and then a ragged grunt as her stomach made contact with one of the boys’ shoulders. Sputtering in indignation, she attempted to brush her hair out of her face enough to figure out who had the audacity to pick her up. Finally making a part in the curtain of her curls she saw Ron, Harry, and George laughing as they caught up.

“Frederick Gideon Weasley, you put me down right this instant!” yelled Hermione, pounding her fists on his back,

“You three go on ahead. Miss Granger seems to have her knickers in a horrible twist. Just needs a moment to decompress. We’ll catch up,” said Fred casually as Ron, Harry, and George looked down at her in amusement.

“Are you three really just going to let him do this?” Hermione asked, looking up at them with pleading eyes.

They pondered her request for a moment, before George gave her a sweet smile and bopped her on the end of the nose with his pointer finger. “Yep.”

Ron was next, rubbing a hand on top of her head and messing up her curls. “Good luck, Hermione,” he chuckled before disappeared around Fred.

Harry was last, smiling the widest. “I hate to say it, but he’s right. Sorry, Hermione,” he said giving her a small wave and disappearing as well.

Hermione listened to their fading steps as they turned the corner and left for the tower. Then, Fred began to walk, and Hermione let her head hang once again, tired from the strain of keeping it upright.

“Where exactly are you taking me?” she questioned, feeling all the blood in her body rush to her head.

“Hush now. No talking,” said Fred gripping her legs tighter. Hermione tried not to focus on the way his grip sat dangerously close to the top of her knee-high socks. Instead, she focused on the ground moving below her and the backs of Fred’s shoes as he walked down hallways and corridors. It felt like they’d been walking forever when he finally lifted her off of his shoulder and deposited her down onto the ground. She stumbled, all the blood rushing back to her limbs and making her faint. Fred caught her, grabbing her by the upper arms and keeping her vertical. After a few moments he released his hold, instead reaching up and brushing her messy hair out of her face. He smiled down at her as he did so, making Hermione’s heart stutter as he tucked the pieces behind her ears.

“So…” Fred sighed looking down at her and then to his left, staring hard at the wall. Hermione followed his gaze to see what he was staring at and realized just where Fred had taken them. It was the painting he’d found her at, those few months ago.

“Why…?” she drifted off, confused as to why he had brought her there of all places.

“Well last time I found you here you were upset. I figured it might be a good place to take you. Clearly something’s bothering you—” he brought a hand up to scratch the back of his neck nervously “—I’ll just…leave you to it then.”

He made to walk away but before Hermione could stop herself, she called out to him. Fred halted in his tracks and turned back to her. “You can stay…if you’d like,” Hermione said softly, turning away from him and sitting down gently on the cold stone. She heard the shuffling of shoes before she felt Fred take a seat next to her. Hermione stared at the painting with unwavering concentration. Just like last time, the field had metamorphosized into an entirely new vision. While previously it had housed a mixture of many flowers on a bright sunny day, now it showed her nothing but thousands upon thousands of purple lilacs with an overcast sky.

“Viktor Krum asked me to the ball,” Hermione blurted. She didn’t know why she felt the need to tell him. She hadn’t planned on telling anyone – at least not until she made her decision. But something about the moment, the painting, and it being Fred, made her want to tell him more than anything.

Hermione expected him to be surprised. She expected him to look at her incredulously – perhaps call her a liar. Instead he smiled and gave her a look that said: ‘I could have guessed that’ before asking, “Is that what’s got you all in a twist? Worried you made the wrong choice by saying yes?”

“I didn’t say yes.”

That did surprise Fred. “What? You said no then?” he asked, a glint in his eye that if Hermione knew any better, she could have sworn looked something akin to hope.

“No – I told him I’d think about it.”

Fred laughed.

“What?” asked Hermione defensively.

Fred wiped a tear from under his right eye before catching his breath and answering, “Nothing, it’s just…only you would tell an international quidditch player ‘maybe’ when he asks you to a ball.”

“I want to make sure his intentions are right.”

“What? Want to make sure he’s not just trying to get into your knickers?” asked Fred with another laugh.

“More like I want to make sure he actually likes me and isn’t just trying to get to Harry,” admitted Hermione with a whisper. Looking at her hands, she worried the inside of her bottom lip. She felt foolish for her confession, but Fred had the annoying ability to put her at such ease that she blurted out all her worries before she even knew what she was doing.

“Hey—” Fred brought a hand up, grabbing ahold of her chin softly and turning her to face him “—why would you think a silly thing like that?” He smoothed his thumb over her skin, pulling her lip from out between her teeth as he frowned at her.

“I just…why would he like me? I’m nothing special.”

“Nothing special? Hermione Granger, I never want to hear those words come out of your mouth again. Nothing special, she says,” Fred scoffed.

“Well, it’s true! My hair is a ratty nest, I’m skinny and knobby, and plain and freckly—”

“What’s wrong with freckly?” asked Fred accusingly before breaking out into a wry grin.

Hermione laughed. “You know what I mean,” she said, aware now that Fred’s hand had never left her face. Instead it found it’s home cupping the side of her cheek sweetly.

“No. I don’t think I do because…well because when I look at you, Hermione, I don’t see a knobby plain girl with ratty hair.”

“You don’t?” Hermione’s heart leapt into her throat. Suddenly the space between them seemed much too close but not close enough. Fred’s eyes scanned her face, flitting from her forehead to her lips before landing back on her eyes as she waited with bated breath for him to speak again.

“No.”

“What do you see?”

Fred hesitated, swallowing audibly as his sight flitted once again from her eyes to her lips and back up. “I see a beautiful girl with a wild mane and an equally wild fierceness. I see a beautiful girl that any man would be lucky to take to the ball,” said Fred, his voice a low timbre.

Hermione let out a shuddering breath. “What if…” she began, but stopped, unsure of whether to say next what she wanted to.

“Yes?” asked Fred, pushing her on.

“What if…what if I didn’t say yes because I was secretly hoping someone else might ask me?”

Fred deflated at Hermione’s question. Releasing her face, he dropped his hand and looked off to the painting once again as he sighed. For a brief moment he thought he saw what looked like disappointment on Hermione’s face, but that couldn’t be. Not when she’d just confessed, she said no to Viktor Krum because she hoped Ron would ask her to the ball. Still, it was probably for the best. He was taking Angelina after all – he hadn’t asked her yet of course, but she had made it exceedingly clear after Professor McGonagall’s abysmal dance lesson that she expected them to go together.

“I was thinking purple,” said Angelina, leaning lazily into Fred’s side as he stared into the fire of the Gryffindor common room.

“Huh?” he asked dumbly, Angelina’s comment pulling him out of a deep concentration. He’d been thinking about Hermione. He was…always thinking about Hermione.

“For my dress for the ball. Purple – I like purple. It’s my favorite color, you know?”

“I didn’t know. Is it really?” asked Fred, looking down and wrapping an arm around Angelina’s waist.

“It is. I figured you’d want to know now so you’ll know how to match your dress robes.”

“I think…” began Fred, speaking slowly and choosing his words carefully. “I think that if you’re holding out for someone else and you’re not 100% sold on Krum, then you should wait.”

“Really?” asked Hermione, looking at him with those wide, Firewhisky brown eyes.

“Yeah, make Krum sweat it out for a bit. I’m sure he isn’t used to having to work for dates – it’ll be good for him. And it’ll give this other bloke some time, maaaybe he has something special planned for you.”

Hermione stared at him speculatively. “You say that as if you already know,” she said with an earnest, vulnerable expression on her face.

“I have it on good authority that by the end of next week you’ll have more than one invitation to the ball, ‘Mione. Trust me,” he winked, trying to keep a cool composure and not show the inappropriate disappointment he currently felt.

They continued to sit and stare at the painting above them for a while longer until Hermione broke the silence once again, “What about you?”

“What about me?” asked Fred, continuing to stare straight ahead.

“Well, I couldn’t help but notice you’ve been…off today. Something bothering you?”

Fred breathed deeply. “You remember how we won all that money off Ludo Bagman at the world cup?” he asked.

Hermione nodded.

“Well, the arsehole paid us in leprechaun gold. We’ve tried to get in touch with him since, but he’s been dodging us and well…not only do we not have the money he owed us, but we also don’t have the money we gave him either. It’s why supplies are so tight for the business,” he admitted, remembering when Hermione had asked why they weren’t putting their development efforts into more than just one thing at a time.

The soft touch of Hermione’s hand on his brought Fred’s attention away from the painting. Briefly he looked down at the place where their hands were entangled. He should stop her. The touch while friendly in nature, did nothing to quell the stirring attraction in the pit of his stomach. But he didn’t. Instead he allowed himself to indulge in the small bit of intimacy. After all, it was innocent enough.

“Have you considered writing to him and reminding him just how serious unsanctioned gambling is in Britain? I’m sure he’d like to know how…consequential it would be if someone in the Ministry found out he’d been gambling illegally at the cup, especially with at least two underage wizards,” said Hermione.

Fred look at her incredulously. Had he really heard her say what he thought he did? “Are you suggesting blackmail, Miss Granger?”

“I’m just saying that if I were Ludo Bagman, I’d like to keep my job at the Ministry. How he chooses to do so, is entirely up to him.” She said the words so casually, you would have thought she was discussing an article in the Daily Prophet – not the plotting of blackmailing a Ministry official. But Fred didn’t miss the evil glint of mischief in her eye as she stared at him impishly. Good god, he did not deserve Hermione Granger.

And neither did his little brother, thought Fred as he sought out Ron that afternoon. It was Wednesday – a week and half till the ball and he had a mission. Despite his feelings towards Hermione and the thought of Ron being not nearly worthy of her, he knew that what Hermione wanted was for his idiot of a brother to ask her to the ball. So, he was going to make sure just that happened. He found Ron on the grounds, under a tree near the black lake with Harry and Hermione. Despite the snow and freezing temperatures, the three were huddled up arguing about something as a small blue flame floated near them. Wrapping his robes around him tightly, Fred trudged through the snow towards the three of them.

“What’s this then? Not you three freezing your arses off in the snow when there’s a perfectly good castle just over there!” he called out to them, breaking the small trio out of whatever spat they were in.

“Hullo to you too,” called Harry.

“What do you want?” asked Ron.

“Oi. Very rude! I can’t come and see my favorite baby brother?”

“Is it me that you want?” questioned Ron, sending a glance in Hermione’s direction.

“Actually yes—” Fred dug his hands deep into his pockets “—mind if we…” He gestured behind him and Ron stood with a huff – clearly put out by having to pause his conversation.

Fred walked a distance from where Harry and Hermione sat before he stopped and turned to Ron.

“What?” asked Ron again, looking down at him expectantly. Merlin, when did he get so tall? wondered Fred.

“Have you got yourself a date to the ball yet?”

“Why do you care mate?” laughed Ron, looking around like he expected George to pop up at any moment and pummel him with snowballs.

“I’m just saying, time’s running out and before you know it, the ones you really want to ask will be taken,” he said sending a purposeful look towards Hermione.

“What? Hermione? Don’t be ridiculous,” squeaked Ron.

It took every last ounce of his strength, for Fred to not throttle Ron for his stupidity. Here he was trying to do a nice thing for Hermione and subsequently his little brother and what did he get in return? He was Father bloody Christmas at this point.

“Listen – you can say whatever you want, but your little crush on Hermione—”

“—I don’t have a crush on Hermione—”

“—your little crush on Hermione isn’t as big of a secret to some. So, I advise you ask her before somebody else does.”

Ron scoffed, “Sure.”

“Hey—” Fred held his hands up in defeat “—I’m just saying. And now that I’ve said my peace, my moral obligation is done, and I can leave you to it. Don’t cock it up, mate.”

Ron looked at Fred like he was a strange creature from the depths of the Black Lake itself. “Okay…well if that’s all, I’m gonna head back. Weirdo…” Ron breathed the last sentiment as he turned away from Fred and headed back towards Harry and Hermione.

Fred shook his head, having the sinking feeling that Ron would, in fact, cock it up.

And he’d been right. Two days later and Ron had yet to ask Hermione to the ball. Even worse, he had it on good authority – from some gossiping third year girls – that Krum had approached Hermione on the grounds the day before. For all he knew, Krum had asked her again and the poor girl had said yes because at this point it was so close to the day of the ball that she probably thought Ron would never ask! Fred glared down at the parchment in front of him and then over to Ron who was seated on the couch between Harry and Hermione. Scratching a quick note onto a bit of spare parchment, he crumpled it and threw it in Ron’s direction. Ron picked it up, unfolding the note and reading it out loud.

“Hurry up and ask someone before all the good ones are taken. Who are you taking the ball then?” Ron asked in annoyance.

Fred looked from Ron to Angelina who sat at a nearby table with Alicia working on her potions essay. Crumpling up another piece of parchment, he sent it flying in Angelina’s direction. She looked up at him with a tired expression when the paper landed on a bit of ink not yet dried.

“What?” Angelina asked.

“Fancy going to the ball with me, Johnson? I think we’d make a rather good-looking pair.”

Angelina smiled widely, looking excitedly at Alicia before turning back to Fred and nodding enthusiastically. “Yes, I’d love to Fred.”

George clapped a hand on Fred’s back in congratulations which he gracefully took. Really it wasn’t the most romantic thing. Perhaps it would have been more romantic if Angelina hadn’t already decided they were going together. But at least he’d asked her. Fred shot a smug grin and wink in Ron’s direction. While the irritated expression on Ron’s face was expected, the look on Hermione’s face was not. She almost seemed upset as their eyes met momentarily, but before Fred could properly tell, she looked away.

“Say…Hermione…” began Ron.

Alright, not off to a great start, but it’s something, thought Fred as he listened closely.

“Yes?” asked Hermione, looking at Ron in trepidation.

“You’re a girl…”

“Very well spotted,” Hermione said, giving him a confused look.

“Well, why don’t we go together?”

Yes! He’d done it! Just when he thought Ron didn’t have it in him, he overstepped Fred’s expectations. Fred was almost tempted to walk over and pull him into a hug, but then all temptation was erased at what he heard next.

“Really?” asked Hermione in surprise.

“Yeah. I mean it’s one thing for a guy to show up alone, but for a girl it’s just sad.”

No…no, no, no. Fred groaned, laying his head in his hands. George winced beside him, knowing that a comment like that absolutely would not fly with Hermione.

“What makes you think I’d be going alone?” asked Hermione – a seemingly innocent question, but Fred knew that behind it, lurked only bad things for Ron.

“I mean, come on…” remarked Ron, faltering a bit when he saw the rage in Hermione’s eyes. Just when Fred thought it couldn’t get any worse…

“For your information. I won’t be going alone because somebody already asked me…” Fred looked up when Hermione hesitated. While he knew it wasn’t really any of his business, a part of him was wildly curious as to what the next thing she had to say was. Hermione seemed to agree with his involvement, for her eyes landed on him for the briefest of moments before she looked back at Ron and seethed her answer, “And I said yes.”

Christmas morning came without a hitch. The term had been over for nearly a week now and Fred could finally focus all of his time and effort into working out the remaining kinks of the Canary Creams. In fact, he’d spent the last week cooped up in the small classroom that was their work area, reading and brewing. George had been there quite a bit as well, but he often snuck out to the kitchens or to play a few rounds of exploding snap with Lee. Usually Fred would go too, but with the added company of Hermione he found he didn’t mind staying behind to continue working. Hermione had almost no qualms with spending most of her time hidden away in their workspace as she was still vexed with Ron over his disastrous attempt to ask her to the ball. While Fred felt bad that it didn’t work out the way he planned, he hated to admit that a small part of him was happy Ron wasn’t taking Hermione to the Yule Ball. She was too good for him, he told himself resolutely.

Fred rolled over in his bed and pulled back the curtains to see the sky still inky black. Winter mornings were always so bleak and dismal. He preferred summer when he woke with the sun. But still, the cheer and excitement that came with Christmas morning left him wide awake and so he sat up excitedly, ready to see what presents were waiting for him. The pile at the end of his bed looked its usual size except for a rather large box at the very bottom. He wondered for a moment who that could be from. Did his mother hit her head and forget they were poor? he pondered, reaching out and grabbing the first present from the top. Looking at the tag, he recognized it was from Angelina. He smiled, knowing with a chagrin that it was most likely sweets. She always got him and George sweets – despite Fred mentioning many times that he didn’t care for candy all that much. Tearing the wrapping, he was pleasantly surprised to find not candy, but a small golden compass for his broom. They had seen it in a shop last Hogsmeade weekend. Fred had innocently mentioned he’d quite like a compass for his broom, but never did he imagine Angelina would buy it for him. Amusedly, he thought of the present he got her. That same Hogsmeade visit she’d spent hours eyeing a scarf in a little side shop. When she wasn’t looking, he’d snuck back and purchased it for her. Placing the compass gently to the side, he dug into the rest of his presents. A big box of chocolate frogs from Lee, a sweater from his mum and dad along with some fudge, and a year-long subscription to Jokester’s Magazine from Alicia. All in all, a good turn out – but there was still one present he had yet to open. A big box that simply read: To Fred and George, From Hermione.

Fred reached for the box and then stopped. Looking over at the closed curtains of George’s bed, he wondered if he should open the present when it was meant for him and George. Really, he should wait for George to wake up and open the present together, thought Fred before grabbing the corner of the wrapping and tearing it open. Ridding the large box of its wrappings, he pulled off the lid of the box to reveal a number of small vials and boxes.

“What?” Fred pondered out loud.

“Oi! You started with out me, ya git,” grumbled George, pulling back his curtains and glaring at Fred.

“Come and see what Hermione’s got us Georgie. I’m not quite sure what it is.”

George groaned, rolling out his bed with a heavy thump of his feet and shuffling over to him. George stared down at the contents of the box and reached in. His fingers closed around a vial of deep blue color. Turning it over and reading the card attached to the top George read aloud: “Billywig sting—" George reached in and grabbed a box this time “—dried mandrake root. Freddie, I think the girls gone and bought us potions ingredients for Christmas.”

“Really?!” Fred asked excitedly, reaching down, and grabbing a jar of newt spleen. Sure enough, it looked like the box was filled with a bit of ingredients Fred had ever heard of and then a few he had not. This would help their progress more than he though Hermione even realized. Brilliant. It was just brilliant.

“We’re set for a while now, Freddie!” exclaimed George, sitting down on his own bed and beginning to open his presents.

“Yeah, I guess we are,” Fred couldn’t wipe the grin from his face for the rest of the morning. With the knowledge that they were free to explore and experiment to their hearts desire, he was constantly reminded of one of the best Christmas presents he’d ever gotten. He meant to tell her as much too, but Hermione was distinctly missing from the breakfast that morning and the common room as well. When he finally ran into Ron and Harry and asked about her, they had said something about her getting ready for the ball. Ron had scoffed, still convinced that Hermione was lying about her date for the Yule Ball. While Fred was one of the few who actually knew who she was going with, he wasn’t going to tell Ron any different. Secretly he couldn’t wait to see the stupid look on Ron’s face when Hermione arrived that on the arm of Viktor Krum.

How could it possibly take her all day to get ready for a stupid dance? thought Fred as he settled into a game of chess with Ron. While his little brother walloped him, checking his king for the third time that morning, Fred thought of Hermione’s fantastic Christmas gift. Self-consciously he wondered if his gift to her matched up. What was a small book compared to all those ingredients? It must have cost her almost all her pocket money and then some. The rest of the day was spent in the common room, alternating between chess, exploding snap, and chatting with his fellow Gryffindors. The tower was much busier than any holiday Fred had spent at Hogwarts – the Yule Ball keeping everyone over Christmas break that usually would have gone home. It was a little after two when Angelina, Alicia, Katie, and Ginny stated they were headed up to their dorms to get ready for the ball. He, George, Lee, Ron, and Harry bid they goodbye before deciding to take a walk around the grounds before getting ready themselves. The wind was bone chilling as they strolled from the castle to the quidditch pitch and back, leaving their faces tinged pink and raw.

By the time they got back, they had nearly an hour till the ball began and so, they all departed to their dorms to get into their dress robes. Fred’s dress robes were a standard black, but he’d purchased a purple tie a week ago via owl-order to match Angelina’s dress. Checking himself in the mirror one last time, he straightened his tie and smoothed down his long, ginger locks. George appeared in the mirror behind him, straightening his tie as well and giving him a shit-eating grin.

“I reckon we’ll be the best-looking blokes at the ball tonight,” said George definitively.

“Yes, but only if you mean I’ll be the best looking and you’ll be a close second,” quipped Fred.

“You both look like two huge identical prats to me—” Lee rolled his eyes, pulling at the sleeves of his baby blue robes “—now let’s go. The sooner we get there, the sooner we get to hear the Weird Sisters play.”

Lee hadn’t shut up about the Weird Sisters playing at the Yule Ball since Dumbledore had announced it. Fred and George were excited too, but they didn’t hold quite a candle in their hearts for the band like Lee did.

The night went by quickly and spectacularly. The food was divine, the Weird Sisters were just as good as Fred imagined, and Angelina was as good a date as he could imagine for the night. They talked and joked and danced, never lulling into awkward silence like so many couple there that night. It wasn’t until Angelina excused herself to the restroom that Fred realized it was nearly eleven at night. Where had the time gone? Glancing around the marvelously decorated room, he saw George laughing loudly at something Lee had said near the punchbowl, Kenneth Towler was dancing slowly to a ballad with his Ravenclaw date, and across the room sat Ron and Harry looking miserable. Their dates had long since abandoned them, Fred noted, as they had failed to dance with them once – a missed opportunity as Fred acknowledged that both Padma and Pavarti Patil were very pretty girls. Unfortunately, Ron and Harry were just too preoccupied with Hermione and more importantly her date. When he failed to spot the duckling turned swan of the evening, he meandered casually out of the room and into the adjoining corridor where several students stood mingling. Traveling further down, he spotted a terrace door ajar and peaked through the glass to see Hermione standing by herself in the cold. Hands braced on the stone railing, she looked out into the dark expanse of the knight.

“What are you doing out here? It’s freezing!” exclaimed Fred, noting Hermione’s flushed appearance and looking for any signs of her turning blue. Luckily, the only thing blue about her was the fabric of her dress – a dress that every girl apparently adored that evening, for even Angelina had spent a fair bit of time discussing it with Alicia. Hermione truly did look beautiful. Everyone had been gossiping about her since the moment she walked into the ballroom on the arm of Viktor Krum. Her dress revealed a figure Fred had never seen before – one that was womanly and soft, her skin looked soft and dewy like she’d stepped out of a painting, and her hair had somehow been tamed into an elaborate updo with a few loose curls framing her face. Although, if Fred was being honest with himself, he preferred her hair the way it usually looked – wild and lioness-like.

Hermione jumped, grabbing ahold of the railing in front of her and bringing a hand up to her heart. Clearly, she hadn’t expected company out here and Fred didn’t blame her – only someone truly insane would be standing out in the cold like this without the proper robes. “Merlin Fred, you scared me!”

“What are you doing out here?” he asked again, stepping towards her.

“Nothing…Viktor went to get drinks and I needed a bit of fresh air,” said Hermione, but the way in which she worried her bottom lip, her deliciously tempting bottom lip, between her teeth told him there might be more. So, he stared at her, raising an eyebrow in question until she broke.

“Oh god, Fred. I don’t know what to do!” she yelled, bringing a hand up to her temple. She began to pace back and forth, the hem of her dress dragging in the snow that was beginning to build on the terrace.

Fred reached out and grabbed her by the shoulders, halting her movements. “What happened? What’s the matter?” he asked, looking over her for any signs of physical ailments. Had Krum hurt her somehow?

“Nothing, well no that’s not true. It is something, but it hasn’t necessarily happened yet and I—”

“Just tell me why you’re out here trying to freeze to death, please Hermione,” said Fred, cutting her ramblings short.

“I…what if he tries to kiss me?”

Fred wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t that.

“I mean, you kiss him back. If that’s what you want and if it’s not what you want, then kick him in the shins. You’ve got a killer kick – I can attest to that personally.”

Hermione smiled but it didn’t reach her eyes, the golden amber color shining with worry. “I just…I was dancing with him and there was a moment where I thought he might kiss me and then someone interrupted us and so we didn’t. But I had the realization that he might try to kiss me again and I’ve never kissed anyone before. What if I’m bad at it, Fred?” she asked looking up at him with a desperate expression.

“It’s a first kiss – everyone’s first kiss is a little awkward,” reasoned Fred, trying very hard not to look at her plump pink lips.

“Yes, but what if I’m so bad that he never wants to kiss me again? I just…I don’t know what to expect or what to do and I—”

Before Fred could weigh the pros and cons of his actions, he was leaning down and capturing Hermione’s frantically moving lips in his own. The kiss was sweet at first, a firm yet gentle press of his lips to hers, but like a man thirsting in the desert, the moment he reached water he had to drink his fill. Reaching up, he cupped her face and deepened the kiss. Slotting their lips, he moved in slow measured movements. For her first kiss, Hermione was more skilled than she knew. Her lips moved naturally and achingly sweet with his, parting just enough for him to swipe his tongue along the crease and taste her. Later on, he would reason with himself that he only did it to shut her up. He’d go on to tell her, after breaking the kiss, that he merely did it so she wouldn’t be nervous for when Krum kissed her later – she’d be prepared and know what to expect. But in that moment, as he felt her soft skin beneath his fingertips and breathed in her essence, he couldn’t lie to himself. He kissed her because he was selfish. He kissed her because the idea of Krum being the first man to sample her sweet lips lit a burning fire of rage in his veins. He kissed her because he wanted to.

Chapter 13>>>

Taglist:

@theworldisugly-22

@aoonai

@sjh-07-10

@is-it-madness

@i-d-e-g-a-f

[call-me-schmidt]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Harry Potter & Blaise Zabini, Harry Potter & Professor Sprout Characters: Harry Potter, Ginny Weasley, Blaise Zabini, Astoria Greengrass, Susan Bones, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Professor Sprout, Madame Pomfrey Additional Tags: Trans Harry Potter, Trans Blaise Zabini Series: Part 8 of boy with a scar Summary:

Molly tried her best. When Harry had told them, Arthur had asked excitedly, "is this a Muggle thing?" Hermione had hurried out a "no!" and a frantic history of gender diversity in the wizarding world.

"It's just that I'm a girl," Harry had said, and Arthur had nodded and asked her about how telephone booths worked. He would call her by the right pronouns until the day he died at the respectable old age of one hundred and thirty three, and he would make it seem easy.

But Molly had to try. Hermione explained things faster and higher-pitched every time Molly messed up a pronoun. Molly frowned and muttered and put extra potatoes on Harry's plate at breakfast. Harry slept in Ron's room, which didn't bother either of them but which made Hermione scowl.

Harry got boxes of sweets and warm hugs, as Molly chewed things over. For her fifteenth Christmas, the Weasley sweater she would receive would be a bright, friendly, terrible pink.

The next time Harry visited, Molly put her on Ginny's floor to sleep-- for some definition of sleep that involved Hermione hissing threats at three in the morning if Harry and Ginny didn't "shut up about Wronski feints, do you know what time it is."

[blog-of-a-multitude-of-fandoms]

Fake- Hermione Granger

Pairing: Hermione Granger x Reader

Characters: Hermione Granger

Warnings: N/A

Request: Anon - Could ya do a Hermione x reader where you are best friends with Harry and you fake date him to make Hermione jealous because you think she doesn’t like you

Word Count: 432

Author: Aaron

As Harry strolled off into the distance, you waved him goodbye and your faux romantic interest in him manifested itself into a blown kiss. You made sure it was loud and obnoxious enough for Hermione to hear, for it was not performed to show affection for your good friend Harry, but instead it was only to cause Hermione a certain jealousy.

“I don’t think it’s very necessary to be quite so loud, I think at this point everybody knows about yours and Harry’s relationship so you could save yourself some energy and tone it down a little.” It was quite clear that your plan with Harry to make Hermione green with jealousy was working and you could only hope that eventually it would drive Hermione to like you. “Sometimes you can like somebody without showing it every five seconds.”

“I’m hardly having to make Harry fight his competition, I think he’s one of the only people in this school that know of my existence, never mind see me as more than a friend.” Hermione grinned to herself and brushed her curly, brunette locks behind her ear. “Are you going to tell me I’m wrong?”

She paused for a moment, giving her a brief second to think.

“I think that you shouldn’t presume these things… you shouldn’t presume anything but especially something like this.”

“Why? Are you going to say that you like me?” She turned her face away but you still saw the feint redness of embarrassment creep over her. “Come on, don’t ignore me.”

“No comment.” She sped forward, spouting some rubbish about being behind on homework for Flitwick’s lesson but it was easy to catch up with her increased pace.

“No comment…? What is that supposed to mean?”

“It mean’s exactly that. I have no comment on the matter.”

“Well you have to have something to say, you either like me as a friend or you like me as more than a friend.”

“Even if I did like you, I couldn’t say anything. You and Harry are coming up to your month anniversary and I couldn’t be the one to ruin that just because I’ve had some stupid crush on you ever since we were sat next to each other in first year potions.” Hermione stormed off, this time almost running off ahead of you with her textbooks clutched tightly across her chest and her head low.

“Hermione!” You shouted out, she didn’t reply but you knew she could still hear. “Me and Harry aren’t really dating.” You muttered under your breath, waiting for a better time to tell her.

[romioneficfest]

Lose Yourself

Title: Lose Yourself name: Prompt: Day 4: Quidditch / Hogwarts Rated: K+ / PG Brief Summary: Rose Weasley Granger is about to step on the biggest pitch of her entire life, one that she has been training for almost her entire life: The Quidditch World Cup Final. Before she is off at the starting whistle, she needs validation from the one person whose approval she desperately needs. Warning: Oliver Wood’s guest commentary. Tagging @weasleyisourroyalfamily for the headcanon inspirations.

“Rose Weasley-Granger, the star seeker for the English National team is a bit of a prodigy. Her Dad put her on her first broom a year old, way she tells it. Uncle Harry Potter coached her early on. He was a bit of a star during his secondary years until life got in the way,” the play-by-play announcer nodded in full understanding as most of the English population 40 and up easily recalled, “and later coached by her Aunt Ginny Weasley-Potter, who was an enormous star for the Holyhead Harpies in the UK Quidditch League and taught her so much, even though she was a Chaser by profession in the Quidditch Leagues.”

“She also started as Second Chaser for the English National Team in 2002 and 2006 before retiring after the tournament.”

“That’s right Oliver,” Lee Jordan’s voice crackled over the airwaves to the delight of all the fans. “Rumor has it that Weasley-Granger was tutored in the summer months during her years at Hogwarts by the Hall of Fame Seeker and family friend Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian National team legend who caught the Snitch in the 1994 World Cup match played in the UK, and then again in the 2014 World Cup final in Patagonia, Argentina. Krum retired after that last International match, participating only in charity matches in England and on the Continent, raising funds for the Prewitt Trust, the post-war orphan trust for children whose parents were murdered by the Voldemort regime in 1997 through May 1998.”

Wood interrupted. “Speaking of, there is the Bulgarian Legend Krum, in the minister’s Box alongside the others. His wife Natalia is present and their oldest, Sergei, attends Hogwarts now as a Fifth-year Prefect, and their older daughter Mina as well. All we are waiting on now are the Ministers for the UK and Mexico to arrive.” 

“Back to Weasley-Granger, she made a name for herself starting while in secondary at Hogwarts, catching the snitch in every match she played starting in her second year. By the start of her fifth year, all the professional teams in the UK and a few abroad were recruiting her when she performed a Wronkski feint which turned at the last second into a sloth roll to catch the snitch that had flown under her opponent and sealed the win for her House team that year. At that match, the recruiting scout for the Chudley Cannons, of all the teams, was present at the match and not a week later they were sending owls to the Weasley-Granger residence trying to sign her - at 16. 

“Her Mum, Hermione Granger, who had assumed the role of Minister earlier that term, forbade her from signing any professional contracts until the end of her sixth year after she’d turned 17. The day after the end of term, recruiters were desperate to sign young Weasley-Granger. And each one she turned down, telling all of them, “I bleed orange and Black and am a Chudley Cannon through and through. Sorry fellas,” as she went back to work on their property, using a scythe to clear the back yard of overgrown grass as her daily workout. But the National team, having already watched her first season as a seeker for the Cannons, immediately invited her out for the team before the end of her first year. She beat out 16 other Seekers to become the starter, being the youngest since Krum started for Bulgaria at 18 back in 1994.”

“She’s been nothing short of legendary at the National competition level. I’ve watched her and her vision on the pitch is astounding.”

“And there is Minister Curazon of Mexico and British Minister Granger, along with the entire Weasley clan arriving, lead by Patriarch Ron Weasley-Granger, co-owner of Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes. Also present is Rose’s younger brother Hugo, who is already a renown Rune translator and spell researcher. Arriving with them are the Potters including Lily Luna, the starting third chaser for the Tutshill Tornadoes. Wood, you’ve been a part of a friendly with the Weasley Potter Granger clan. How much fun is it?”

“Lee, I have to say it’s much more fun refereeing them than trying to keep up. Between Rose and Lily Luna Potter, few stand a chance. I’m sore for three days facing Lily Luna, much less her Mum and Rose.”

The music shifted again, sounding like a celebration.

Oliver Wood stood, looking out at the fans. “Ladies, Gentlemen, Distinguished guests,” his voice boomed over the stadium, still strong years after retiring from Puddlemere United, "I give you the Mexican National team. At Keeper, Miguel Gonzales; Beaters Julio Sanchez and Juan Carrasco; Chasers Alejandro , Jorge Hernandez, and Rafael ‘Lobo’ Vasquez; and Seeker Teresa Blanco-Calderon !”

Seven red, green, and white rockets took off from the portal, racing around the Holyhead pitch at breakneck speeds, before taking their places at the centre of the pitch, with Calderon circling high above.

“There’s Ron Weasley, standing tall in the Minister’s Box, with Minister Granger by his side, wearing the customary Home White Lions uniform with blazing red of the St. George’s Cross. I spy underneath his jacket, a sprig of Orange. I‘m guessing, under his Weasley-Granger National jersey on the back, was his pride and joy - his daughter’s replica Chudley Cannons team jersey.”

Ron ignored the commentary from Lee Jordan, focusing at his wife at his side at his wife, the current Minister of Magic who was officially off duty tonight and letting Oliver Wood handle the festivities. Tears were streaming down her face, completely oblivious to anyone who might notice. Ron glanced right and saw his sister, brother in law, Viktor and his remaining family standing there, all beaming with pride, waiting for the English national team. Ron leaned down to give his wife a peck on the lips, ignoring the hoots and catcalls around them.

“That’s Weasley for you. He prefers his wife over propriety.” Guffaws broke out around the couple before Ron kissed her again before turning back to the player’s tunnel.

The Mexican team finished their racing circuits of the stadium and they settled in, waiting. 

A thrum started, like a heartbeat. Ever so slowly, a roar erupted, punctuated with chanting known all over the British Isles: 'Weasley is our Queen'

“And starting for the English National team, we have at Keeper Charles Wood; Beaters Marius Pucey and Aiden Flint; Chasers Zeb Smith, Khalil Reeves, and Mohammed Siddiq-Smythe, and last but certainly not least, Seeker Rose Weasley-Granger,” the announcer roared over the crowds watching the Ginger Wonder Woman, as the English Press referred to the Prime Minister’s daughter. Sure enough, panning the crowds to the Minister’s Box stood Minister of Magic for the UK Hermione Granger, along with 2002 English 2nd Chaser Ginny Weasley Potter, her husband Harry Potter, and the minister’s husband Ron Weasley-Granger.

All eyes turned to the lanky Seeker, wearing her home White uniform with blood-red boots and cape, and her name embossed in Red on the back. The smile on her face was as bright as the fireworks that announced the team, shining above everyone. Rose soared, feeling the brisk air as she rode the jetstream and raced down to the ground, pulling up from the ground a foot from the pitch to fly almost straight up above the stadium.

“Win or lose, Lee, this is her moment, the one she’s trained a lifetime for.”

Rose dared look down at the Minister’s Box and saw her family, including ‘Uncle’ Viktor. An entire sea of ginger-haired people was looking up at her, waving frantically, led by her Dad, her #1 fan. But she only had eyes for her Mum, beaming in pride up at her. Her breath hitched when she saw her Mum signing to her ‘Little Lion Queen, Fly Fast; love you' up at her. She signed back, 'Love you' before deciding to do one last reckless thing before the whistle blew. Rose took off for one sprint around the top of the stadium, weaving in and out of the portals, giving the blurry a faces a momentary glance of her before stopping at the Minister’s Box. Rose waved at everyone before racing to the top of the pitch, settling in next to the Mexican Seeker Calderon, meters above the lights. 

Quidditch chairwizard of the International Quidditch Association Faed Zozimar came walking out, his hair completely white with a moustache that reminded Hermione of a certain famous Singer from the 70s and 80s stood at the centre of the pitch with the official ball box. He kicked it open, letting the snitch escape into the sea of colours along with the two bludgers. He mounted his broom and awaited for Wood to make the official announcement.

“Players, on the whistle,” Wood boomed before an ear-splitting whistle broke the silence of the stadium. The quaffle went up and the match was on.

The crowd roared.

Rose raced off in a rush, feeling like the first time her Mum told her she was proud of her.

[yellowmagicalgirl]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Harry Potter & Blaise Zabini, Harry Potter & Professor Sprout Characters: Harry Potter, Ginny Weasley, Blaise Zabini, Astoria Greengrass, Susan Bones, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Professor Sprout, Madame Pomfrey Additional Tags: Trans Harry Potter, Trans Blaise Zabini Series: Part 8 of boy with a scar Summary: Molly tried her best. When Harry had told them, Arthur had asked excitedly, "is this a Muggle thing?" Hermione had hurried out a "no!" and a frantic history of gender diversity in the wizarding world.

"It's just that I'm a girl," Harry had said, and Arthur had nodded and asked her about how telephone booths worked. He would call her by the right pronouns until the day he died at the respectable old age of one hundred and thirty three, and he would make it seem easy.

But Molly had to try. Hermione explained things faster and higher-pitched every time Molly messed up a pronoun. Molly frowned and muttered and put extra potatoes on Harry's plate at breakfast. Harry slept in Ron's room, which didn't bother either of them but which made Hermione scowl.

Harry got boxes of sweets and warm hugs, as Molly chewed things over. For her fifteenth Christmas, the Weasley sweater she would receive would be a bright, friendly, terrible pink.

The next time Harry visited, Molly put her on Ginny's floor to sleep-- for some definition of sleep that involved Hermione hissing threats at three in the morning if Harry and Ginny didn't "shut up about Wronski feints, do you know what time it is."

Because JK Rowling is off being a terf on twitter again, I would like to recommend to everyone this oneshot that effectively spits in Rowling’s face. It’s a full series au where one change is made to the storyline: what if Harry Potter was a trans girl?

(Also I’d recommend everything else in the “boy with a scar” series as well; the writer is great and always really thorough in considering how the changes, whether big or small, would effect the storyline.)