Concepts, tropes and theories in Dramione fanfictions which have become so popular that I can't differentiate any longer if they are canon (book or movies) or not:
The pureblood families are so inbred that they have a hard time conceiving and if they do, they only ever will have one child
Draco visting Myrtle and being quite friendly with her
Hermione's first kiss was with Krum
Draco's first kiss was with Pansy
In terms of academical achievement Draco is second only to Hermione in their year
Draco is a skilled Occlumens on Snape's level
Draco befriends Crookshanks and is basically a cat dad
Hermione and Draco run into each other frequently in the library OR end up on nearby tables OR fight over books
Draco stared (all evening) at Hermione during the Yule Ball and left earlier (because he was jealous)
Narcissa Malfoy, Luna Lovegood
Bribery; Malfoy Manor
Rating G
Prompt: "I'll do it, but on one condition."
=
“Two hundred Galleons?”
“Every month. Yes.”
Luna stared vacantly at the woman, though her mind was sharply present and curious.
“I’m sorry, I’m not sure I understand.”
The Lady of Malfoy Manor smoothed her robes where she sat, her chin lifted such that to return Luna’s gaze meant peering slightly down pointed nose. Narcissa’s lips pursed.
“I can’t say I fully understand my son, presently, myself. But he needs an outlet, amongst other things, and this is perhaps the least ruinous way to indulge him.”
Luna fingered at the small sherry glass she held, untouched drink sitting richly within.
“His commission would—”
“Miss Lovegood.” Narcissa’s voice was crisp, like a paper cut. “I’m sure you realise that he has financial stability in abundance. A few coins for his pride is merely a politeness, at this point, which I am more than happy to compensate.”
“Well, I do fancy myself polite. I haven’t even mentioned how uncomfortable it is to be in your home, again.”
Luna thought she had done a rather fantastic job of sitting on the chaise very primly, as she thought people tended to do on them. She would have hated to insult the chair by sitting in the way it preferred least.
“And we must all live with the memories.” Narcissa drank from her glass, and Luna mirrored this only now. “This manor may never recover its full charm and spirit, but alas, not all good things last.”
Her gaze fell to the Persian rug beneath the low table of mahogany, following the patterns of both wood and fibre, and Luna felt oddly dizzy.
“This is quite a large ask.”
“Which is why I am offering a large sum.”
“If Draco were to write for the Quibbler,” Luna inclined her head, glancing at the other blonde, “Of course, his work would need to be up to our standards. We’re very strict.”
Narcissa offered her a slow blink, something almost bored, but there was thought swirling behind long lashes. Sifting through the words and gestures Luna made, but with a method unknown to her. In fact, Luna-- who was normally rather good at knowing what somebody was feeling-- couldn’t begin to surmise what the woman was doing inside her own head, presently.
Finally though, Narcissa clicked her tongue.
“I’m not an investor, Miss Lovegood. You’ll maintain full control over what of Draco’s writing makes print. I’ve no interest in influencing the publication. But, I must insist that this arrangement remain beneath our table.”
“And Draco is not sitting at our table,” Luna observed.
A fleeting, cordial smile flashed across Narcissa lips. “Nor is anybody else. It’s just you and I, sharing a bottle of sherry and discussing how wonderful this opportunity will be for my son. For his reputation, and perhaps even his confidence.”
Luna nodded. “I see. He’s got stability in money, but he’s wobbly in all the other ways.”
“You’re a credit to your Hogwarts house.”
“I suppose I should return that compliment, but if it’s all the same, I think I’ll keep it.”
With a hum-- Luna suspected it one of mild approval-- Narcissa would draw from her sleeve a slender package. A long, thin box like that to house jewellery, wrapped in brown paper and twine. It offered a metallic rattle when it was placed, with notable weight, upon the tea table.
“This is his first three months paid in advance. I shall have a House Elf deliver any further payments, including his ‘commission’, which I will settle prior to print— and only for articles upon which his name is clearly credited. I will not pay for anything he puts out under a pseudonym or anonymity.”
Luna swallowed a sip of sherry again, deciding she really didn’t favour it.
“I’ll accept this, but I have one condition.”
“Name it.” Narcissa held her glass shy of her lips, expectantly.
“I’d like you to pay for Dobby’s headstone. A proper one. I especially like the idea of there being a statue of him on top, and I shall expect Harry will want to arrange things just so.”
A very long silence rang out. It was a very tense thing, like a loose thread pulled on knitwear-- it could easily unravel a lot more than you intended, if you tugged at it. But slowly, Luna saw the proud woman’s chest rise, a deep breath taken in and given back as a lengthy sigh.
“Your strange affinity for all manner of creatures is something I find particularly curious, Miss Lovegood. But your regard for that House Elf…” Narcissa’s eyes closed. “I cannot help but be reminded of another member of my family. Very well. I shall arrange it.”
Luna felt a swell of relief in her breast.
“Then I’ll have Draco start as soon as I’m sure his head’s clear of Wrackspurts.”
Tags: Battle of the Astronomy Tower - Fear/Anxiety - Death mention / imagery
Prompt: I earned this
=
The time has come.
Dread lends it a crushing weight as it settles in his lungs like a sickly haze, and Draco feels like he cannot breathe. He cannot get enough air, no matter how fast he sucks it down, or how hard his heart hammers it through his pure blood. His blond head is spinning, so dizzying he fears he might next wet his dry lips with vomit.
Hard stone meets his knee as he stumbles upon the steps, clutching at his wand with white knuckled desperation.
There is chaos below. Draco can hear it over the pitch in his ears, just as he can hear the Headmaster beyond. His death, a prize. A release. Even the tremble in Draco's palm cannot prevent it, because it must be done. He’s come too far now to turn back. Everything has come to this, and if he falters, everything will be lost.
Dumbledore is talking, murmuring low— is he not alone? What if somebody else is there? What if there’s a witness?
Does it matter? Will it make a difference, now that he is to be a marked killer? Everyone will know, soon enough.
He will be the man that killed Albus Dumbledore on the orders of Voldemort.
A dangerous man— yes, a man, he reminds himself. A Death Eater. One Unforgivable spell, and Draco will have truly earned a seat at the Dark Lord’s table, firmly within his grace. Sparing himself, pardoning his father, being able to look his mother in the eye once more.
Far better than kneeling before the wand, where pain or worse awaited those the Dark Lord was displeased with. Better than being left to the mercy of Nagini and her venom, her glistening and hungry eyes. Her crushing hold snapping his bones and whatever life remained hopefully snuffed before he suffocated, swallowed an unhinged jaw.
Dumbledore surely did not fear death, for he was an old man. Draco was not.
It was only right. It was only fair. It had to be this way.
He had imagined glory in a thousand different ways, before he knew the burn of the mark-- like his burning muscles, screaming for oxygen. Rigid sinew far too tight as the tension froze him. Draco, if only for a short while, had allowed himself the delusion that he too could be chosen.
“I earned this,” Draco hisses it through his teeth as he searches his roiling gut for conviction, “I earned this!”
The privilege to rend his soul, part of him whispers, to avoid his early demise.
Then he imagines that on the other side of it, he will glow with pride and presence and sureness, just as his father did when Draco was a boy. Untouchable, powerful, feared. The epitome of good Wizarding form.
“I have earned this—” Finally, he finds the will to scramble forward up the cold stairs, rushing now to the top of the tower.
Perhaps when he is that man at last, he will shed this childish fear for good.
For all the fuss that it was, the Yule Ball being hosted there at Hogwarts, Theodore remained lonesome. He didn't mind this, despite some needling from his fellows (and at least one declined request). Nott was quite content to people watch, lingering at the fringes. Taking in the minutia of the spectacle.
Our recipes are here! Thank you to all the excellent chefs and authors who have contributed to the cook book. We had such a blast running this fest and reading everyone's fics and recipes.
Angel Food Cake | @elisedonut Dennis Creevy/Percy Weasley
Australian Pavlova | @regretful-prince Dramione
Banana Bread | @doingthechachaslide Lee Jordan/ Ginny Weasley
Chicken Tikka Masala | @nena-96 Romione
Creamy Lemon and Basil Pasta | @my-patronus-is-a-champagne-glass Romione
Dark Chocolate Batter Cake | @mundrakan Marauders Gen Fic
Rated T
Adult Draco/Hermione
No Major Warnings Apply
Mild Angst/Romance with Humour
Pavlova Recipe Included
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Three times, she had watched him come back for more.
Perhaps it was a deep seated paranoia, or the admittedly generous donations he’d made that night, but Hermione found it difficult to take her eyes off of Malfoy.
A pot-luck banquet— raising awareness and funding towards matters of Gnomish zoning rights and displaced fungal harvesters— was not the sort of event she’d ever expected him to attend. Just turning up to mock her efforts seemed like a particular stretch even for him, let alone putting forth a ridiculous sum of money for his trouble.
There was nothing on Earth that could have convinced her that Draco Malfoy actually cared about the issues affecting the Gnomish community. Whatever bizarre agenda drove him to attend remained an utter mystery to her clever mind, even after observing him for the better part of an hour.
He was relatively well behaved, all things considered. Clipped small talk and certainly not the most popular man in the room, but he busied himself with gluttony. An enchanting assortment of food currently swept the hall, levitating in a fantastical rotation to suggest themselves to the guests and serve up portions to those interested in them. Yet, the only dish he’d even acknowledged that night was a dessert. Malfoy had pointedly chased it down twice more, harassing the dish, responsible for disappearing nearly half of it into his stomach.
D/Hr microfic compilation;
50 word chapters of an overarching story.
First years Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy accidentally befriend one another on the Hogwarts Express, when Draco mistakes her for the relative of a famous Potioneer who shares her last name.
[ comedy of errors ; mildly fluffy ; no major warnings ; complete ]
jacobvanloon
yousharknotpass
titsay
dailybridgerton
janainaart
areudirty
