A very old Durmstrang!Draco AU (not based on any fanfic!!!) comic I posted in my Patreon 2 years ago. I completely forgot that I made this not gonna lie. Here y'all go. dialogue written by @indreamsink
Hermione was captured on a particularly cold December morning — the first Wednesday of the month.
Winced when one of the Deatheaters yanked her wand away, twisting her arms behind her back.
“Not so clever now, are you?” One of them sneered.
Hermione didn’t need a wand to be clever.
They kicked her in the ribs, laughed when she scrambled away, stomping on her fingers. And then, because fate was cruel and life was unforgiving, she was tossed in a cell with Draco Malfoy.
“Hello.” He said, “It’s been ages. How are you?”
She hit him with her good hand.
Hermione had heard whispers that he’d killed Bellatrix himself, that he’d been discovered covered in her blood — killed her the muggle way; a knife to the throat, minutes of agony, his smiling face the last she ever saw.
She heard that he’d killed Dolohov and Yaxley, too, and after he’d finished ripping Voldemorts inner circle to shreds with his teeth, that he had vanished, hoping to blend in with the shadows.
Personally, she didn’t think it would be easy for him to hide, looming over everyone like an overgrown tree: perfectly recognizable with his white blonde hair and stupidly pointy little face.
He stuck out in every crowd.
No wonder they’d found him. He was an idiot.
“Are you going to kill me?” He asked, rubbing the bloody nose she’d given him. He looked the same as she remembered. Perfect, as always. Hermione was forced to confront the ever present painful truth; that he’d always look good, in prison, in agony, in death.
“I haven't decided.” She could kill him. No one would blame her — the world would continue to turn, the seasons would still change, bitter spring making way for aching summer. However (it was always however; however.. however,) killing Draco Malfoy wouldn’t make the world a better place. Freeing him would.
He nodded slowly. “So I have time to persuade you.” He said in a soft voice, too soft — a voice for sleepy mornings in bed, tangled limbs and hushed words, for sweetness that neither of them possessed, not anymore. A voice for a different life.
“I should kill you.” Hermione said, “After everything you’ve done.”
“And I’d deserve it.” Malfoy said, grinning through the blood. “I wasn't the nicest.”
“I know. I remember.”
Malfoy tilted his head to the side, “Been thinking about me?”
Hermione narrowed her eyes. “Constantly.” She said, “I’m not sure how I get anything done.”
He pouted. “It’s not nice to lie, especially to a dying man.”
“You’ll live.” Hermione said sharply. “And I’ll make sure you suffer.”
He laughed loudly, then. “Of course.” He said. “Just when I’ve accepted defeat, you show up. You’ll probably escape this prison on your first try, too.”
Hermione tilted her head softly to the side. “You’ve tried and failed? How embarrassing, Malfoy. I thought you were the best at everything. Well,” she paused. “Second best.”
“Second only to you.” He said, “If I were stuck with anyone else, I’d feel content in my superiority.”
“Sorry to ruin it for you.” Hermione said flatly.
They sat in silence then, hands reaching out, barely brushing fingers, their movement hidden by the darkness of the cell. It’d been over a year since she’d last seen him, over a year since he’d stopped coming to the order meetings. Vanished without a trace.
In their last moment, they had been standing on opposite sides of the war, spells flashing over head. In the distance, Harry had been screaming, voice rough and cracking — directly to her right, Hermione had seen Ron tackle a Deatheater to the ground, heard the familiar crack of bones.
In her distraction, a killing curse flashed above her head, hitting its target — a faceless Deatheater lay beneath her feet, body twisted in death, limbs bent and broken. Whatever fate they had planned for her, died with them.
Hermione had looked up to see him, maskless and grinning. “You’re welcome.” Malfoy had mouthed.
In the everpresent nothingness of war, at least Hermione had him.
Then, he’d left. And there had been no one.
“I was coming for you.” Malfoy said softly, “Before they caught me.”
“Hm,” Hermione said, “I’m sure you were.”
He touched her then, palm firm against her cheek. “I was coming for you.” He repeated.
Something began to wither inside of her, the resentment she held, the feeble defense she’d scrambled to put up in his absence.
At first, Hermione had clung to the idea of his downfall — it was almost better, to believe he’d seen the error of his ways and returned to the Dark side. At least, then, Hermione was allowed to hate him.
But after, when the rumors took flight, it had been impossible to ignore. Killed the woman who tortured her? The men who had hunted her?
That didn’t seem like a coincidence, which was somehow, worst of all.
“In and out.” Harry had said, “Don’t waste any time.”
But Harry wasn't here, it was just the two of them. Alone, for the first time in so long.
She could feel her heart beating faster in his presence, like she was a fumbling teenager again. Trembling fingers and shaky first times: Hermione thought of the first time he’d kissed her, teeth clanking together, nose bumping her own. Desperate to prove himself; how when he’d finally managed to sink his cock into her, he’d actually cried. Stuttering thrusts and quivering knees, their tears mixing together, salt sweet on the tongue.
It always seemed to feel that way with him.
“— do anything,” He was whispering, tracing her lower lip with his thumb, “Let you kill me if that’d make you happy. I’ll do whatever it takes for your forgiveness. Fuck you until you forget your angry at me, until you forget your own name. Just give me a chance."
“Not now,” She pushed his hands away, limbs feeling sluggish and slow (she could fuck him, quickly, press his back into the dark, sink slowly on to his cock, sweet and warm) ignoring the way his fingers dragged across her arm, hooking around her wrist, pressing against the flesh, “Not here. We have to leave. The portkey won't last. You can beg for forgiveness later.”
“You’re here to rescue me?” Malfoy asked, having the audacity to sound hopeful.
“Of course this is a rescue mission,” She hissed. “No wonder I was top of the class, with you as my only competition. Can’t even figure out a basic situation — ”
Malfoy kissed her, almost angrily. Ignored her protests about leaving, swallowed her words down.
His hand wound in hair, yanking her into his lap, meaner than she remembered. “I’ve missed you,” he moaned against her throat, teeth scraping against her skin.
Before, everything with him was unhurried. He’d murmur how much he loved her with every thrust, thumb swirling lazily over her clit. Taken his time tracing her skin with his tongue.
Before, Draco Malfoy had taken as long as he wanted, cruelly drawing out her pleasure. “Sh,” he’d hum against her forehead, “take what you’re given.”
Before, he'd eat her out for hours, until his jaw was undoubtedly sore, and Hermione was trembling mess of twisted limbs and burning tears — and only then, after he'd reduced her to a squirming memory of who she was normally, after he had her begging for his cock, unable to continue without the feeling of him between her legs — then, he'd fuck her.
Now, he was different. Hungrier. Crazed.
“Say it,” He groaned, “Say you missed me, too.”
“I didn’t.” Hermione said, heaving sighs leaving her chest, spinning out of control, warmth overtaking her skin, “Not at all.”
His hand found her throat, squeezing lightly. “Don’t lie to me.” He whispered, “I killed them for you. I deserve a little honesty.”
“For me?”
He nodded.
She kissed him, then. Launched herself at him, broken ribs forgotten, tumbling to the floor, twisting limbs. “I forgive you,” she breathed against his jaw, his blood smearing across her skin, “I forgive you. I forgive you — ”
I don’t want you to.” Malfoy said. “Punish me for it. Make me hurt.”
Hermione squinted down at him the darkness of their cell. “I could be very upset with you for a while. Maybe even a week.”
“One moment together, before I go”
Maybe it was easier when I thought I hated you, before your smirk began to look more like a confidential smile. A friend, a partner, a lover.
Victorian dramione au, where Draco and Hermione are forced to agree to an arranged marriage and feelings are a mess.
