Round 3, Challenge 1; Drabbles & Voting
Behind the cut is the submission for the first challenge: Rare Pairs.
hermyfan & mon-ami-runa have been eliminated for not submitting.
PLEASE:
* Keep an open mind to all the drabbles, the pairings vary, and the ratings go up to R.
* You can link friends to this post, but please don't ask them to vote for you.
Drabble #1:
Title: Heart’s Desire
By: minervasrevenge
Rating: Teen
Warnings: Not epilogue compliant, adult concepts
Summary: Hermione explores Hogwarts in her spare time and rediscovers the Mirror of Erised.
Pairing: Hermione/Lucius
Word Count: 914
Hermione stood in front of the mirror with her eyes closed. She knew that wizards and witches wasted away gazing into the Mirror of Erised and that’s why she didn’t look. Besides, she had a pretty good idea what her reflection would show.
They were fresh professors at the beginning of the school year and they were elected to head their former houses. Lucius Malfoy was surprisingly civil towards Hermione. She returned the gesture and an unlikely friendship was forged as they shared teaching tactics and horror stories.
At the faculty Christmas party, Hermione drank too much. She flirted with Lucius - an action she thought to be fairly harmless but he responded by seducing her. It felt oddly natural to continue their physical relationship. By unspoken agreement, she kept their affair secret.
Pillow talk ranged from unruly students to Narcissa’s suicide. How unusual that Hermione came to trust a former Death Eater and that he seemed to trust her in return. It was as if they were hired models for the Ministry’s Post-Voldemort Blanket Forgiveness Act. And, for awhile, Hermione was content.
Transfiguration was one of the most difficult subjects to learn but Hermione enjoyed the challenge of instructing it to her students, conveying the concepts in multiple ways so that every child understood them.
In her spare time, she would tutor students that needed help or, her favorite; she would explore the newly renovated castle and grounds, taking notes as she went. That was how she found the mirror.
Harry had described it and Hermione recognized it as the Mirror of Erised at once. She charmed a conjured sheet to cover it, intending to report it to Headmistress McGonagall.
Being a clever young woman, Hermione recognized that she was growing rather attached to Lucius. She began spending more time with her lover. She would accompany him on Hogsmeade weekends and help him oversee detentions (which he seemed quite fond of doing).
One night, Lucius confessed to her that he’d been very much in love with his wife and only seduced Hermione to see if he would feel anything. It stung a little to know that he hadn’t done it because he was attracted to her.
Perhaps, subconsciously, it was Lucius’ admission that returned Hermione to the mirror. She was wandering the castle aimlessly, avoiding her rooms in the event that Lucius was in them waiting for her. And then Hermione found herself blinking at the shrouded mirror. Her first thought was that she really needed to let Minerva know it was so easily located. Then she began to wonder what she’d see if she took a peek.
Would Headmistress Granger be staring serenely back at her..? Or maybe Hermione Granger the honored, bestselling author..? No, no. Neither of those ambitions made much sense to her anymore.
After working with children for almost an entire school year, something soft had blossomed in Hermione. She was endeared to her students by their quirky behavior and sponge-like minds. She began to yearn for a family of her own.
Despite the foolishness of the idea, her mind had paraded scenarios of love and marriage through her thoughts… Marriage to the wizard she’d been growing increasingly close to…
Like a sensible woman should, she ignored the fantasies.
But standing before the Mirror of Erised forced Hermione to realize the truth of her situation. She was falling in love with Lucius Malfoy and he was unlikely to propose, let alone start a family with her.
Quiet tears slid down Hermione’s face as she drew her wand. She cast a breeze that blew the fabric to the stone floor and closed her eyes, unsure that she wanted to acknowledge the deepest longing of her heart. Harry had been forced to stop visiting the mirror because Dumbledore moved it. Surely Hermione could control herself well enough to satisfy her curiosity…
Suddenly, images from Hermione’s memory began flashing to the forefront of her brain. They were quite quick and she only caught a few as they zipped along: Dumbledore arriving to explain Hogwarts to her shocked parents, Boggart McGonagall telling her she’d failed all of her tests, striding into Gringotts as Bellatrix Lestrange, her first day as the Transfiguration professor and one more picture. This one wasn’t a memory but a creation of her imagination that burned and lived and breathed as brightly as if it were.
In it, Hermione stood content and heavily pregnant. A blond little boy clutched the folds of her robes and she comfortingly petted his head. He was the image of his father and half-brother. With his hands lovingly gripping her shoulders, Lucius stood behind her. The idyllic pose was precisely what she thought to see in the mirror. It faded from her mind as suddenly as the memories had come.
“I’m a bit old to start a family, Hermione,” Lucius said.
Hermione hadn’t realized Lucius was a Legilimens. She turned slowly to look at him, wiping under her eyes. She wasn’t ready to have that discussion with him. She’d only just faced that she might be in love with the man and it didn’t seem fair.
“It’s just a foolish fantasy,” she replied.
“What you see in that infamous mirror is not foolish,” he said darkly.
“But I haven’t looked,” she said.
“What was that vision, then?” he asked warily.
Hermione gave Lucius a tight smile and took his arm. She began leading him from the room, hopeful that he’d understand; “Only what might be reflected.”
Drabble #2:
Title: Sweet Lemonade
By: ctorres
Rating: PG/PG-13
Warnings: none
Summary: This is not what her parents were worried about.
Pairing: Hermione/Ginny
Word Count: 590
This was not what her parents had in mind.
Hermione reckoned that when her parents decided to send her to the Quidditch World Cup, their permission was rooted in one part football madness (her father), one part nostalgia (her mother, who had been rather more social as a girl than Hermione had any intention of becoming), and one part Ginny Weasley. It felt as if her mother spent half the trip into London reminiscing about summers spent sleeping over at friends' houses and gossiping about boys, and the other half reminding her to make sure she didn't do anything with the boys to gossip about.
As if she would. They arrived at the Leaky Cauldron just in time to see Ron cram three quarters of a sandwich into his mouth at once. The twins, Ginny explained with a roll of her eyes, claimed to have heard a bit on the Wireless about Muggles who had competitions to see who could eat the most. Ron was considering training up for it. "That's disgusting," Hermione scoffed, and after one last round of hugs from her parents, Hermione was only too happy to let Ginny pull her away.
This was not what her parents had in mind at all.
After her first few days at the Burrow, which were oddly awkward for a reason Hermione couldn't quite identify, came the hottest day of the summer. Hermione and Ginny spent the afternoon on the far end of the Weasley's land enjoying a perpetually full pitcher of icy lemonade under a shady tree. The trunk was wide and nicely slanted on one side, and Ginny said that Bill used to like to bring his girlfriends out here to snog when they came to visit. In return for her silence, he didn't bother to take down the Notice-Me-Not charms when he moved out. None of her other brothers knew about her hiding place.
It was on the hottest day of the summer that Hermione admitted, if only to herself, that she'd been missing out when she pointedly ignored Lavender and Parvati's most scandalous gossip sessions. She was beginning to think that she should have paid attention long enough to pick up a few pointers, because it was on the hottest day of summer that Hermione learned that Ginny had something in common with her brother Bill. Somehow, idle conversation turned into a game of Truth or Dare, and the already abbreviated outfits they'd been wearing to soak up the sun disappeared piece by piece.
Her father suspected Ron, but it was Harry her mother didn't trust. "It's the polite ones," she'd mutter. "That boy is too nice."
Before she left for Hogwarts, her mother sat her down one evening and talked to her about dormitories and changing bodies and boys and saying no. Her father had had a similar talk with her just the week before, although this time with rather less emphasis on bodies and much more on the waiting. Neither of them ever told her what to do with a hot summer day and a girl who tasted of sugar and tart lemons, but Hermione reckoned they were doing a pretty good job of figuring it out themselves. Ginny was very nice.
And when they disappeared from the house the next day to go back to the tree, Hermione refused to feel guilty. Boys were one thing. This was quite another.
Drabble #3:
Title: Brawl And Consequences
By: kcstories
Rating: PG
Warnings: Not terribly canon-compliant.
Summary: A different ending to the Yule Ball.
Pairing: Cedric/Hermione
Word Count: 888
Hermione takes a deep breath, inhaling long gusts of cool night air, and wills herself not to cry.
It's not worth it-they aren't worth it-and by this time tomorrow, tonight's events will already be irrelevant anyhow, just one of many subjects of gossip to be discussed over breakfast and already forgotten by lunch.
Still, here and now, tomorrow is still a long way off, and so she'll just sit for a while, on this bench, and think and keep breathing.
She'll quietly retreat to her dorm later. In an hour or two, when there won't be as much chance of being confronted with painful questions or snogging couples, who will only make her feel even worse about herself.
Hermione sighs again. So much for the Yule Ball.
She'd actually been looking forward to it, and had put quite a bit of effort into her appearance too, even going so far as to magically fix her teeth and straighten her hair for this special occasion.
Ordinarily, she wouldn't have bothered with all that. She normally doesn't care that much about her looks. There are far more important things in life.
Perhaps she shouldn't have gone to such great lengths this time around either, but just shown up as her usual plain self.
Perhaps then Ron wouldn't have behaved so appallingly and Viktor wouldn't have-literally-jumped in to defend her honour, and the Great Corridor Brawl of 1994 might never have happened.
Honestly…boys!
Firstly, she's quite capable of defending herself-thank you very much, Viktor-and whether or not someone is too old to be her date is no one's business but her own-cheers ever so for your unsolicited advice on that front, Ronald!
She lets out a long, weary sigh and puts her head in her hands.
This time tomorrow, all will be over and as good as forgotten. Just keep breathing.
"Granger?" a slightly familiar voice pipes up, seemingly out of nowhere. She can't quite place it at first, but at least its tone is friendly.
She looks up and frowns when she sees Cedric standing there. This is completely unexpected. Shouldn't he be in there still, dancing the night away with Cho Chang?
"Diggory," she replies automatically, her voice flat.
"That was quite the spectacle in there," he says with a smile.
"Yeah," she mutters, and feels dangerously close to tears again. Bugger. He hasn't come all the way out here to mock her, has he?
"I couldn't help but notice that the Delacour girl seemed rather put out. Two blokes fighting over someone other than herself." He grins. "I don't think she ever witnessed anything like it before. Still, the experience might have done her some good, though. Maybe it'll help to bring her down a few notches and she'll start being a little nicer to people around here."
Hermione blinks, and then cracks a small smile. She can't help it. The thought of Fleur Delacour with her pretty blond hair, perfect figure and those sophisticated French ways, being jealous of her is rather amusing, and also quite gratifying after the way the girl has been looking down her nose at everyone, especially the Hogwarts students.
"Anyway, Granger, I just wanted to make certain that you were all right," he continues, suddenly looking less sure of himself. "You are, aren't you?"
She nods. "It's been quite a night, but I guess I'll live."
"I should hope so," he says. "Though I must confess that I was a little disappointed to see you leave the Ball so soon."
She blinks again. "You were?"
He nods. "I'd been hoping for a dance, actually."
Hermione's eyes widen. This evening is getting stranger by the second. "But what about Cho?"
"Well." He sits down next to her on the bench. "Cho already went back to her dorm; claimed she was feeling tired."
"Oh."
"To be honest, I think I may have bored her by talking too much Quidditch."
"Fancy that," Hermione says, and laughs.
Cedric shakes his head. "I thought it was a perfectly acceptable topic, seeing how the girl plays the sport herself. Well, clearly I was mistaken."
Hermione chuckles again.
The silence that follows is comfortable and pleasant, and for reasons she can't explain, she feels as though a large weight has been lifted off her shoulders.
Whatever happens tomorrow, things will be fine. It was all just… teenage nonsense anyway.
"Don't let it get to you too much, Granger," Cedric offers, his voice serious once more. "They were both completely wrong for you from the very start."
"Oh?"
"You need someone dedicated, intelligent, hard-working and considerably less two-dimensional than Krum or Weasley."
"I see." She raises an eyebrow in challenge, and adds, "You wouldn't happen to know anyone fitting that description, would you, Diggory?"
He smiles. "Perhaps."
Hermione suppresses the urge to giggle-because really, it's not the sort of thing she does; ever-but nonetheless, she cannot deny that she's flattered and maybe-just maybe, mind-slightly interested, too.
Goodness. What a bizarre day this has been, and it's not quite over yet.
"So," he says, and nervously clears his throat.
"So," she repeats.
He gets up and holds out his hand. "How about that dance, then?"
She grins, well aware that there is only one possible answer to that question. "Yes."
Drabble #4:
Title: Something New
By: gingeraled
Rating: R
Warnings: mentions sexual activity
Summary: Almost four months is a short time for something new to become something old.
Pairing: Hermione Granger/Adrian Pucey
Word Count: 797
It was different. It was a change of pace.
This one fulfilled all the expectations cultivated in her by years of reading fairy tales of all lengths and languages. This one didn’t call her names, didn’t row with her, didn’t laugh at her habit of curling up with a book at odd times of the day.
This one bought her flowers, and danced with her.
She liked it.
--
The feeling in Hermione’s heart was contentment as Adrian Pucey, unassuming owner of the Wizarding World’s largest transportation company, poured her some wine. They were at his flat in the exclusive residential strip just outside Diagon Alley having one of their quiet dinners together, occasions she cherished as they gave her a time to simply unwind.
With Adrian, she didn’t need to do any mothering. He was the one who took care of her.
Adrian gave her a small smile. It reminded her of the first time he ever smiled at her, which was during a chance encounter at the grocer’s over the last bag of fresh mushrooms.
“You should take it,” he’d said. “I could always put off cooking my salads.”
“No,” she’d argued. “Please take it. I don’t really know how to cook myself.”
Adrian had smiled then, and offered her his hand while making his introduction. She was slightly stunned when she remembered him as someone who used to play in the Slytherin Quidditch team, but was even more shocked when he remarked that, of course, he knew who she was.
“Of course, you’re Hermione Granger,” he’d remarked casually. “How could I not know?”
Her eyes had widened almost comically. “How did you know?”
Adrian laughed a deep, rich, laugh. “It’s really hard to miss the names of the new Wizarding world’s heroes,” he said with another smile. “And we went to Hogwarts together.”
Neither of them bought the mushrooms.
That encounter was followed by another when she bumped into him at Flourish and Blotts, and yet another when she saw him at Gringotts. He’d invited her to an ice cream at Fortescue’s then, which earned him a raised eyebrow.
He raised an eyebrow back at her. “What? I like ice cream.”
“I’m a Muggleborn, you know,” Hermione reminded him.
“I know. And I’m a pureblood. I hope that fact doesn’t put you off ice cream.”
--
Adrian clearing his throat brought Hermione back to the present. He was smiling at her, of course, but the smile held a question.
“Oh. Sorry,” Hermione said. “I was just remembering how we first met.”
“What about it?” Adrian asked as he pulled her up from her chair and led her to his bedroom.
“Everything just felt so new.”
--
Adrian’s hands on her skin were always gentle, always reverent. First, with his fingers he would trace her lips, then trail them down to her collarbone, and further down until he reached her sex. He would make sure she was wet and ready for him before he entered, always with his eyes closed and his mouth half open.
He would pump into her. And again. And her orgasm would build deep and explode.
Then, he would come himself.
Almost four months of this brand of sex. Hermione couldn’t be blamed if she remembered the long and hard body that used to pound her into the mattress, the filthy words that were whispered in her ear. Gods, Hermione, you feel so fucking good. I love you.
No. Hermione would force those thoughts out of her head. Adrian was good to her. He gave her flowers, took her out on expensive dates, danced with her.
It was different.
--
Always, after sex, Adrian would fall asleep and Hermione would stay awake. She would think of the almost four months between the two of them, how it had been so new and fresh and different. How it was so much better than what she used to have.
How it was better.
She was to blame, really, for everything. She’d rushed into this because of its novelty; it wouldn’t be fair to look for bits and pieces of him in Adrian. She’d wanted someone different-someone who would sweep her off her feet with flowers and dinners and talks by the fire, and that was Adrian. But then the novelty wore off.
Looking back, Hermione realized that the beating of her heart had never gone into overdrive by merely gazing at Adrian. She’d never felt his kisses down to the tips of her toes. She'd never felt her blood rush when in an argument with him.
The realization was a heavy weight on her chest.
--
Hermione dressed silently, gazing at Adrian’s sleeping form, thinking how almost four months of something new had turned into something old so quickly.
She gathered her things and left.
Drabble #5:
Title: Hermione and the Muggle Champion
By: luvscharlie
Rating: R
Warnings: sexual content, adult language
Summary: Hermione has an encounter at Lee Jordan's engagement party that she will not soon forget.
Pairing: Hermione Granger/Fred Weasley
Word Count: 997
Fred whistled his approval at the tight denims she donned for Lee and Katie's engagement party, as he entered their bedroom. She gave Fred a once over and reciprocated with a whistle of her own.
Fred crossed the room, wrapping his arms around her. He squeezed her arse, then slipped his hand between her legs stroking her, as he grasped the thin strap holding her camisole-like top in place between his teeth and tugged it down her shoulder. Fred's tongue teased the exposed skin of her shoulder and his fingers evoked the most delightful sensations between her legs. He canted his hips against her backside, and she felt him pressing hard against her.
"I need you, pet," he whispered, increasing the pressure of his fingers. "Need you now."
"Fred," she whimpered, her tone pleading. "We don't have time for this. We're going to be late." She reluctantly twisted from his embrace.
"What do you say we skive off the party and have one of our own?"
"You and George are going to be Lee's best men. You cannot skive off his engagement party!"
"You know what it does to me when you're bossy." He rubbed his cock harder against her bum for emphasis.
"Stop it."
He sighed, sounding defeated, "Bloody hell! I suppose I have to go, but all I really want to do right now is throw you down on the bed and rip your clothes off."
"I promise you can rip my clothes off later. How's that?"
"It'll do, I suppose," he said, sounding like a petulant child.
"Shall we go then?"
He grumbled, but took her hand and side-along Apparated them into Lee's garden, where the party was already in full swing. Music blasted from the wireless and faerie lights twinkled in the trees as couples twirled around on the enchanted dance floor.
Fred accepted the Firewhisky Lee offered, and when Hermione declined, she was handed a Muggle drink that Katie's family had supplied. Lee said the females seemed to be enjoying it, so she accepted the glass containing the bubbly liquid.
"Katie's cousin called it champion, I think," said Lee, showing her a tall green bottle.
Hermione took a sip. It didn't burn like the Firewhisky Fred drank. In fact, she rather liked the little bubbles that tickled her nose.
Fred draped an arm around her waist as they chatted with friends. They danced to several songs, and Hermione wasn't sure if it was the little bubbles in the champion that made her feet lack coordination, or if it was merely the intoxicating feeling of being held in her lover's arms as they glided across the dance floor.
They conversed, laughed, danced and drank for several hours. Hermione developed a great affection for the Muggle drink and lost count of how many she consumed.
When they joined Fred's brothers at a table, her cheeks were flushed and her body tingled. She was not one to appreciate displays of public affection, but the longer she sat next to Fred, the more she felt the accumulation of moisture between her thighs. He was delicious, and she could not remember a time she wanted him so desperately. When she could no longer withstand the temptation, she stood, swaying as she did so, and straddled his lap, crushing her lips down onto his and rolling her hips in the way he loved, amidst his brothers' cat-calling and whistling. When they parted, both were breathing hard.
"Fuck, baby."
"Take me home, Fred."
He Apparated them onto their bed without a word. He pressed her back into the mattress and unfastened her jeans.
"Fred," she said weakly, holding a hand to her forehead, where there was a light sheen of perspiration.
"What is it, love?"
"The room is spinning."
"Doesn't the room usually spin when I kiss you?" He leaned in and kissed her mouth lightly before he recommenced tugging her jeans down her thighs.
"Not like this, Fred. I think I'm gonna be sick."
"My kissing technique may need some work if I make you feel sick," he teased.
She shook her head to indicate they did not, but winced and groaned at the movement.
He chuckled when she pulled a face, "You're rat-arsed, my love."
"I'm not." she slurred, holding her stomach and grimacing.
"I think we've got a potion that'll help. Raise your hips." He pulled her jeans down her legs and tossed them aside. "Be right back."
He returned carrying a green vial. "This is about the colour of your skin."
She scowled at him for mocking her.
"Sit up," he said, helping her into the position. "You have to take this all in one drink or it won't help. So, be a good girl and drink up." He pressed the vial to her lips and forced her to continue taking it when she started to gag. "That's my girl," he said rubbing her back.
Typically, she wouldn't have tolerated being talked to in such a patronising manner, but she felt so bad she simply whimpered and laid her head against his shoulder.
He told her to raise her arms, which she did with a fair amount of whinging, and tugged her shirt over her head. He helped her beneath the blankets sniggering at her mismatched bra and knickers.
He used his wand to extinguish the candles lighting the room, stripped down to his shorts and climbed in beside her. "Come here, my little lush, and let me hold you."
"Stop poking fun."
"How's your tummy?" he asked, stroking his finger across it.
"Really icky."
"Give the potion time to take hold. Just rest baby, and I'll take care of you."
"I love you, Fred."
"Love you too." He pressed a kiss to her forehead as she settled against him.
Drabble #6:
Title: Infinite
By: bambu345
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Summary: Their friends may not approve, but Hermione has never bent to peer pressure.
Pairing: Hermione Granger/Terrence Higgs
Word Count: 997
***
“Are you sure?”
“We can cancel the appointment,” she replied.
“No! I want - you realize it isn’t reversible.”
“I did the research.”
He pulled her to a stop at the corner of Diagon and Aetern Alleys, his blue eyes searching her face. “Hermione, there’s a world of difference between theory and reality.”
Exasperated, she huffed, and when a tendril of her hair was caught in the updraft, Terry smiled. Capturing the wayward curl, he twined the baby-fine strands about his index finger.
Despite being forced to take a step back by a witch pushing past her, Hermione’s expression softened into the tender, private look she reserved for him. “You know I understand the difference between theory and reality.”
“Weasley’s already offering odds on our longevity.” Terry glowered. “Potter keeps telling you I’m a mistake of Grawp-sized proportions, and spouting Muggle divorce statistics as if he’s presenting a paper to the Wizengamot!”
Hermione closed the distance between them. “I’m tired of my friends -- and yours -- making disparaging comments about us. Initially, it was how we could never work together … that you were a Slytherin.” She sniffed disdainfully. “We left school a decade ago!”
“I’ve never cared that you were a Gryffindor,” he said.
“I know. It’s just -- our relationship is none of their business!”
“You’re right. It’s ours.”
When he might’ve continued she pressed her fingers to his lips. “I want to do this for you.”
“For me?” He maneuvered them beneath a stone archway thus granting a semblance of privacy from wizarding London’s main thoroughfare.
Hermione quickly drew her wand and cast a Seclusion Bubble. “I want you to believe in the depth of my commitment to you … to us.” Suddenly, she glanced past him and an infinitesimal tremor shook her voice. “If you don’t want -- If you have doubts --”
Terry pulled her into his arms so fast she almost smacked her nose on his chin, but then his mouth met hers, and their kiss was sweet and hungry. His fingers weaved into her mass of curls while one of her hands burrowed into his robes to rest directly over his heart. “I love you,” he murmured.
“You, too.”
For a long moment, he leaned his forehead against hers. Then, as soft as a butterfly’s kiss, his eyelashes grazed her unlined brow, and he angled his head to stare guilelessly into her soul. “Shall we go spend half our savings to commit ourselves irrevocably to one another?”
“Absolutely.”
Ten minutes later, Terrence Higgs and Hermione Granger crossed the threshold of Amanuensis, located on the second floor of twelve Aetern Alley. It was the most exclusive establishment of its kind, and Terry’s mother, Miranda, had exerted her influence to get her son an appointment sooner than the following year.
Ushered into a spacious treatment room, Terry and Hermione hadn’t long to wait. A slender witch with pure white hair entered, smiling serenely. “I’m Rowena Scrivenshaft,” she introduced herself. “Customarily, I would ask a series of questions, but in your case, it will be unnecessary.”
Hermione asked bluntly, “Why?”
“You’ve already made the commitment.” Rowena crossed to an armoire, a surreptitious wave of her wand and music -- a reed instrumental -- filled the room. “Undress please and lay on the platform, Miss Granger on Mr. Higgs’ left.”
Hermione watched Rowena select a small gold cauldron and several vials of potion ingredients before removing her own clothing. She couldn’t resist a covetous glance in Terry’s direction. In Seeker-condition, he was lean and perfectly proportioned; when Hermione raised her eyes, he was watching her. Her cheeks burned and Terry grinned, blatantly staring at her breasts as she climbed onto the thickly padded, hovering dais.
Rowena circled the platform, casting a series of revealing spells upon the couple. After each spell, she added ingredients to the golden cauldron until a curl of rainbow smoke rose from the depths of the small vessel. “You’re fortunate,” she commented.
“How so?” Terry asked.
“You’re extremely compatible, something which will deepen over time. Many pair-bondings are less successful.”
“See?” Hermione whispered, and Terry shifted closer to her.
Rowena asked, “Have you chosen a design?”
“We understand there’s an option to let the spell decide.”
“That’s true, although the Copuliugo is rarely performed. Most choose the lesser spell, preferring to make their representational selection themselves.”
A thoughtful expression crossed Hermione’s face. “I see.”
“Do you?”
“Certainly. It’s a matter of style versus substance.”
Rowena’s smile was genuine. “Perceptive.”
Terry proclaimed, “I’m perfectly willing to let our magic choose the tattoo’s form.”
Hermione leaned over her intended, brushing his lips with hers. “One of the many reasons I love you.”
He grinned.
“If you’re ready,” Rowena said, and they settled quickly.
With a flick of her wrist, Rowena summoned cauldron and cup, then poured iridescent liquid into Hermione’s and Terry’s navels. Next, in what resembled a dance, the white-haired witch gracefully drew the essence of magic from Hermione, Terry, and the planet, weaving it into her spell. Magic pulsed in the air and Rowena cried, “Amplexor copuliugo!”
The room was plunged into darkness save for a rainbow of scintillating light.
When Hermione and Terry woke they were alone.
Perceiving movement at his waist, Terry raised his head. “Hermione,” he whispered, hoarsely, “look!”
Their bonding had chosen its own mark. It wasn’t flamboyant; rather, it was a narrow slipstream of magic undulating in a figure-eight pattern linking her navel and his.
“Can we move independently?” she asked in an awed, slightly apprehensive tone.
“Mum and Dad have never complained.” He eased himself from the conformable surface, the lemniscate accommodating his movements: stretching, thinning, and rendered invisible where it no longer touched him.
“Oh!” Hermione’s eyes were huge.
He rounded the platform, helping her to her feet. They stared in wonder at their tattoo, a symbol of infinity. It rippled in a cascade of color, in, through, and beyond Terry and Hermione, wrapping the couple in their conjoined magic.
“Together forever, Mrs. Higgs,” Terry said before he kissed her.
***
Drabble #7:
Title: Things She's Never Said
By: snowpuppies
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: angst, f/f, mild sexuality, implied character death (not Hermione)
Summary: There are things Hermione's never said to Ginny.
Pairing: Hermione/Ginny
Word Count: 758
Things She's Never Said
Hermione watches, transfixed, as Ginny scowls, dropping her quill carelessly on the blotter and charming her essay blank before sighing and starting again.
It's strange, Hermione thinks. Ginny's doing nothing that others haven't done before-she's seen the same expression on Ron's face dozens of times, and if she's totally honest, she'll admit she's worn it a few times herself-but for some reason, she just can't tear her eyes away from the furrow in Ginny's brow, the angry glint in her eyes, the jutting curve of her mouth.
She really must be loosing it.
But try as she might, Theory of Numerology simply cannot hold her attention when Ginny Weasley is in the room.
She's going to get an "E" if she's not careful.
Horrifying as the thought is, there's a little part of her that doesn't care, that wants nothing more than to kiss that scowl away.
She's fought with the urge for weeks, eyes glued to Ginny's lips when she talks, when she eats, when she chews on the ends of her hair.
And it's not going away.
So there's only one thing to do.
She's never told Ginny how much she wants to kiss her, but she will.
***
A roar echoes across the stadium as Ginny raises her fist, the Golden Snitch glinting softly in the evening sun.
Hermione yells and applauds; she's never found Quidditch quite so…interesting.
The moment Ginny lands, she's swept up by her teammates, emerging above the crowd balanced on Fred and George's shoulders.
Hermione makes her way out of the stands and onto the pitch, carried along by the stream of her classmates, eager to celebrate their victory.
Ginny grins-eyes lit up with delight, dark auburn tendrils clinging to her temples and neck where they've escaped her messy ponytail-as the Gryffindors cheer. Her gaze finds Hermione in the crowd, and Hermione's breath catches in her throat.
She thinks her heart skips a beat.
She's never told Ginny just how beautiful she is, but she will.
***
Quietly, Hermione sneaks down the stairs, carefully stepping over the third step-the squeaky one-then making her way down and into Ginny's room.
She yawns, wanting nothing more than to crawl into a nice, warm bed, but knows she won't have time to pack in the morning. Something tells her the wedding won't go off without a hitch-possibly more than one-and she knows she'll have to be prepared for anything.
She glances over at the bed, where Ginny's snuffling into her pillow, before charming her beaded bag bottomless and beginning to stuff it with her research, supplies, and food.
Just as she fastens the clasp, Ginny whimpers in her sleep.
Hermione smiles softly, tucking away her bag and slipping out of her clothes before sliding under the duvet and pulling Ginny close.
Pressing her face to the back of Ginny's neck, she inhales, relaxing as the scent of lilacs-Ginny's shampoo-fills her senses.
This is the thing she hates the most: leaving Ginny behind in their hunt for the Horcruxes. But Harry's adamant that no one else be put at risk and, as much as she hates to give this up, she agrees that putting Ginny in unnecessary danger is out of the question.
She sighs, gently caressing the outlines of Ginny's face, smoothing the fringe from her forehead, and tracing the curve of her lips.
"Ginny…," she whispers into Ginny's hair, but the words die away, swallowed by the darkness.
She's never told Ginny how much she loves her, but she will.
***
It's quiet.
And still.
Like all life has suddenly…stopped.
Maybe it has.
Because the moment she sees Ginny's name carved into stone, Hermione stops breathing.
They won.
And Voldemort is gone and they're all free…
And this just can't be happening to her.
Still not speaking, breathing, living, she slips a hand into her pocket, fingering the velvety pouch she's kept there for months, just waiting for the right moment...
The world starts spinning and she starts breathing again and she doesn't know how, because she should be dead, should be in the ground next to Ginny, but she's not. And it's not fair-after she'd left Ginny behind, left her to keep her safe-that she's survived and Ginny is…
With a sob, she slips to the ground and buries her face in the dewy grass.
It doesn't smell like lilacs.
She's never told Ginny that she wants to spend the rest of her life with her…
…and she never will.
Drabble #8:
Title: No Words
By: megans-writing
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: AU. Sirius is alive, yet Remus is not. Het. Age difference. EWE.
Summary: Even five years after the war, Sirius and Hermione rarely get a chance to relax.
Pairing: Sirius/Hermione
Word Count: 938
Relaxation was a rare opportunity even five years after the war. Everyone's lives seemed to be chaotic. Everyday bodies were being discovered. There was always a funeral to attend. Friends and families needed financial and emotional support. Towns, homes, and businesses were still being rebuilt. Rogue Death Eaters who still wanted revenge were still being captured. Everyone tried to go on as best as they could.
Hermione had become a successful lawyer in the Wizarding World, defending many victims of Voldemort's Second War. She even worked on a few high profile Muggle cases, as well. She made enough money to support herself and to help Sirius out if he was short on Galleons.
Even though Sirius had been cleared of all charges eight years ago, most people would not hire him. Most were still under the assumption that he was a cold blooded murder. He never stayed at one job very long. He often took jobs in Muggle retail stores working as a cashier, but he would always find the job boring with little pay. George offered Sirius a job at the joke shop time after time, but he never accepted it.
Sirius and Hermione had been a couple for three years. At first many complained of how immoral their relationship was. They were never afraid to defend their relationship. It wasn't like they had been madly in love ever since they had met in the Shrieking Shack. Sirius hadn't realized he was attracted to his godson's best friend until Hermione's nineteenth birthday, and he tried with all of his might to repress his feelings toward her. The only person he had admitted his feelings to was Harry. To his surprise, Harry laughed and confessed that he had known for a while. It was also Harry who played match-maker. Sirius and Hermione were always grateful for that.
Today the Weasleys and all of their friends were celebrating the fifth year anniversary of Voldemort's defeat. Dinner had yet to be served, so Hermione and Sirius opted to spend time alone by the pond on the Weasley property. Sirius had laid out a blanket for them to lie on. Hermione was curled up against his side in contentment. No words were exchanged. They were perfectly comfortable without them.
Sirius was about to nod off when he felt Hermione shift herself and point towards the sky. "What do you think that one looks like?"
"What does what look like?" he asked.
She smiled. "That cloud. See where I'm pointing?"
He adjusted himself to see the cloud from her angle. "Well I think it looks like a Hippogriff. You probably think it looks like an otter."
She lightly hit his arm. "How'd you know that?"
He titled his head back as if welcoming the sun onto his face. "Because I know everything about you."
She sat up, her arms crossed over her chest. "Oh really? Care to test that theory?"
He turned toward her, his eyes smiling. "Give me your best shot."
She pondered, her chin resting on her fist. "What was my first word?"
"Potty."
"How many cousins do I have?"
"Six."
"What's my mother's maiden name?"
"Shanis."
"What's my favorite color?"
"Green."
"Who was my favorite teacher at Hogwarts?"
"Moony, I believe."
"What other names were my parents considering to name me?"
"For a boy either Lysander or Iago. For a girl, Regan."
"Big Shakespeare nuts, eh?"
Sirius laughed. "Seems so."
"Last question. What does my Boggart turn into?"
"Presently, or while you were in school?"
"Presently."
"Your Boggart turns into me. I'm lying on the ground. My eyes are expressionless. I'm dead."
Hermione was silent, chewing on her lip. Sirius pulled her into a hug and kissed the top of her head. "Did I pass?"
She smiled, weakly. "Yes, you passed."
Sirius pulled away from her for a second, taking something out of his pant pocket and holding it out to Hermione, who eyed it suspiously. "Go on, take it."
Cautiously she took the tiny velvet green box. Her eyes rose to meet Sirius' who encouraged her to open it. Slowly, she cracked the box open and gasped when she saw what was inside. Delicately, she lifted the pink diamond ring with a gold band. She gazed up at her lover. Sirius gently took the ring from her and got on bended knee, holding the ring out to her. "Hermione, I have been through so much in my life and have never been truly happy until I became your friend and lover. I never want to let you slip away. I'd die if you were not with me. You are my other half, my love. Hermione Jean Granger, will you marry me?"
Hermione flung herself onto Sirus, arms around his neck. Sirius gasped when he saw the tears running down her face. He cupped her cheek and kissed her tenderly. "Hermione, have I upset you?"
She violently shook her head. "No, dummy! I'm…" She sniffled, wiping her tears on the back of her hand. "I'm so happy!"
Sirius pulled her body closer to him as they passionately kissed. Hermione thought that she could die kissing him like this. Soon enough, they pulled away for air, chests heaving. Sirius smiled and took Hermione's hand and slipped the ring on her finger. They stared into each others' eyes. They didn't need words. Their love was dense in the air. Their eye contact was broken when they heard Molly announcing that dinner was ready. They stood up and collected the blanket. He firmly grasped her hand and said "Let's give them all a surprise,eh?" They laughed as they walked toward their future.
Poll Round 3, Challenge 1; Drabbles & Voting
Voting closes in 48hrs.
hermyfan & mon-ami-runa have been eliminated for not submitting.
PLEASE:
* Keep an open mind to all the drabbles, the pairings vary, and the ratings go up to R.
* You can link friends to this post, but please don't ask them to vote for you.
Drabble #1:
Title: Heart’s Desire
By: minervasrevenge
Rating: Teen
Warnings: Not epilogue compliant, adult concepts
Summary: Hermione explores Hogwarts in her spare time and rediscovers the Mirror of Erised.
Pairing: Hermione/Lucius
Word Count: 914
Hermione stood in front of the mirror with her eyes closed. She knew that wizards and witches wasted away gazing into the Mirror of Erised and that’s why she didn’t look. Besides, she had a pretty good idea what her reflection would show.
They were fresh professors at the beginning of the school year and they were elected to head their former houses. Lucius Malfoy was surprisingly civil towards Hermione. She returned the gesture and an unlikely friendship was forged as they shared teaching tactics and horror stories.
At the faculty Christmas party, Hermione drank too much. She flirted with Lucius - an action she thought to be fairly harmless but he responded by seducing her. It felt oddly natural to continue their physical relationship. By unspoken agreement, she kept their affair secret.
Pillow talk ranged from unruly students to Narcissa’s suicide. How unusual that Hermione came to trust a former Death Eater and that he seemed to trust her in return. It was as if they were hired models for the Ministry’s Post-Voldemort Blanket Forgiveness Act. And, for awhile, Hermione was content.
Transfiguration was one of the most difficult subjects to learn but Hermione enjoyed the challenge of instructing it to her students, conveying the concepts in multiple ways so that every child understood them.
In her spare time, she would tutor students that needed help or, her favorite; she would explore the newly renovated castle and grounds, taking notes as she went. That was how she found the mirror.
Harry had described it and Hermione recognized it as the Mirror of Erised at once. She charmed a conjured sheet to cover it, intending to report it to Headmistress McGonagall.
Being a clever young woman, Hermione recognized that she was growing rather attached to Lucius. She began spending more time with her lover. She would accompany him on Hogsmeade weekends and help him oversee detentions (which he seemed quite fond of doing).
One night, Lucius confessed to her that he’d been very much in love with his wife and only seduced Hermione to see if he would feel anything. It stung a little to know that he hadn’t done it because he was attracted to her.
Perhaps, subconsciously, it was Lucius’ admission that returned Hermione to the mirror. She was wandering the castle aimlessly, avoiding her rooms in the event that Lucius was in them waiting for her. And then Hermione found herself blinking at the shrouded mirror. Her first thought was that she really needed to let Minerva know it was so easily located. Then she began to wonder what she’d see if she took a peek.
Would Headmistress Granger be staring serenely back at her..? Or maybe Hermione Granger the honored, bestselling author..? No, no. Neither of those ambitions made much sense to her anymore.
After working with children for almost an entire school year, something soft had blossomed in Hermione. She was endeared to her students by their quirky behavior and sponge-like minds. She began to yearn for a family of her own.
Despite the foolishness of the idea, her mind had paraded scenarios of love and marriage through her thoughts… Marriage to the wizard she’d been growing increasingly close to…
Like a sensible woman should, she ignored the fantasies.
But standing before the Mirror of Erised forced Hermione to realize the truth of her situation. She was falling in love with Lucius Malfoy and he was unlikely to propose, let alone start a family with her.
Quiet tears slid down Hermione’s face as she drew her wand. She cast a breeze that blew the fabric to the stone floor and closed her eyes, unsure that she wanted to acknowledge the deepest longing of her heart. Harry had been forced to stop visiting the mirror because Dumbledore moved it. Surely Hermione could control herself well enough to satisfy her curiosity…
Suddenly, images from Hermione’s memory began flashing to the forefront of her brain. They were quite quick and she only caught a few as they zipped along: Dumbledore arriving to explain Hogwarts to her shocked parents, Boggart McGonagall telling her she’d failed all of her tests, striding into Gringotts as Bellatrix Lestrange, her first day as the Transfiguration professor and one more picture. This one wasn’t a memory but a creation of her imagination that burned and lived and breathed as brightly as if it were.
In it, Hermione stood content and heavily pregnant. A blond little boy clutched the folds of her robes and she comfortingly petted his head. He was the image of his father and half-brother. With his hands lovingly gripping her shoulders, Lucius stood behind her. The idyllic pose was precisely what she thought to see in the mirror. It faded from her mind as suddenly as the memories had come.
“I’m a bit old to start a family, Hermione,” Lucius said.
Hermione hadn’t realized Lucius was a Legilimens. She turned slowly to look at him, wiping under her eyes. She wasn’t ready to have that discussion with him. She’d only just faced that she might be in love with the man and it didn’t seem fair.
“It’s just a foolish fantasy,” she replied.
“What you see in that infamous mirror is not foolish,” he said darkly.
“But I haven’t looked,” she said.
“What was that vision, then?” he asked warily.
Hermione gave Lucius a tight smile and took his arm. She began leading him from the room, hopeful that he’d understand; “Only what might be reflected.”
Drabble #2:
Title: Sweet Lemonade
By: ctorres
Rating: PG/PG-13
Warnings: none
Summary: This is not what her parents were worried about.
Pairing: Hermione/Ginny
Word Count: 590
This was not what her parents had in mind.
Hermione reckoned that when her parents decided to send her to the Quidditch World Cup, their permission was rooted in one part football madness (her father), one part nostalgia (her mother, who had been rather more social as a girl than Hermione had any intention of becoming), and one part Ginny Weasley. It felt as if her mother spent half the trip into London reminiscing about summers spent sleeping over at friends' houses and gossiping about boys, and the other half reminding her to make sure she didn't do anything with the boys to gossip about.
As if she would. They arrived at the Leaky Cauldron just in time to see Ron cram three quarters of a sandwich into his mouth at once. The twins, Ginny explained with a roll of her eyes, claimed to have heard a bit on the Wireless about Muggles who had competitions to see who could eat the most. Ron was considering training up for it. "That's disgusting," Hermione scoffed, and after one last round of hugs from her parents, Hermione was only too happy to let Ginny pull her away.
This was not what her parents had in mind at all.
After her first few days at the Burrow, which were oddly awkward for a reason Hermione couldn't quite identify, came the hottest day of the summer. Hermione and Ginny spent the afternoon on the far end of the Weasley's land enjoying a perpetually full pitcher of icy lemonade under a shady tree. The trunk was wide and nicely slanted on one side, and Ginny said that Bill used to like to bring his girlfriends out here to snog when they came to visit. In return for her silence, he didn't bother to take down the Notice-Me-Not charms when he moved out. None of her other brothers knew about her hiding place.
It was on the hottest day of the summer that Hermione admitted, if only to herself, that she'd been missing out when she pointedly ignored Lavender and Parvati's most scandalous gossip sessions. She was beginning to think that she should have paid attention long enough to pick up a few pointers, because it was on the hottest day of summer that Hermione learned that Ginny had something in common with her brother Bill. Somehow, idle conversation turned into a game of Truth or Dare, and the already abbreviated outfits they'd been wearing to soak up the sun disappeared piece by piece.
Her father suspected Ron, but it was Harry her mother didn't trust. "It's the polite ones," she'd mutter. "That boy is too nice."
Before she left for Hogwarts, her mother sat her down one evening and talked to her about dormitories and changing bodies and boys and saying no. Her father had had a similar talk with her just the week before, although this time with rather less emphasis on bodies and much more on the waiting. Neither of them ever told her what to do with a hot summer day and a girl who tasted of sugar and tart lemons, but Hermione reckoned they were doing a pretty good job of figuring it out themselves. Ginny was very nice.
And when they disappeared from the house the next day to go back to the tree, Hermione refused to feel guilty. Boys were one thing. This was quite another.
Drabble #3:
Title: Brawl And Consequences
By: kcstories
Rating: PG
Warnings: Not terribly canon-compliant.
Summary: A different ending to the Yule Ball.
Pairing: Cedric/Hermione
Word Count: 888
Hermione takes a deep breath, inhaling long gusts of cool night air, and wills herself not to cry.
It's not worth it-they aren't worth it-and by this time tomorrow, tonight's events will already be irrelevant anyhow, just one of many subjects of gossip to be discussed over breakfast and already forgotten by lunch.
Still, here and now, tomorrow is still a long way off, and so she'll just sit for a while, on this bench, and think and keep breathing.
She'll quietly retreat to her dorm later. In an hour or two, when there won't be as much chance of being confronted with painful questions or snogging couples, who will only make her feel even worse about herself.
Hermione sighs again. So much for the Yule Ball.
She'd actually been looking forward to it, and had put quite a bit of effort into her appearance too, even going so far as to magically fix her teeth and straighten her hair for this special occasion.
Ordinarily, she wouldn't have bothered with all that. She normally doesn't care that much about her looks. There are far more important things in life.
Perhaps she shouldn't have gone to such great lengths this time around either, but just shown up as her usual plain self.
Perhaps then Ron wouldn't have behaved so appallingly and Viktor wouldn't have-literally-jumped in to defend her honour, and the Great Corridor Brawl of 1994 might never have happened.
Honestly…boys!
Firstly, she's quite capable of defending herself-thank you very much, Viktor-and whether or not someone is too old to be her date is no one's business but her own-cheers ever so for your unsolicited advice on that front, Ronald!
She lets out a long, weary sigh and puts her head in her hands.
This time tomorrow, all will be over and as good as forgotten. Just keep breathing.
"Granger?" a slightly familiar voice pipes up, seemingly out of nowhere. She can't quite place it at first, but at least its tone is friendly.
She looks up and frowns when she sees Cedric standing there. This is completely unexpected. Shouldn't he be in there still, dancing the night away with Cho Chang?
"Diggory," she replies automatically, her voice flat.
"That was quite the spectacle in there," he says with a smile.
"Yeah," she mutters, and feels dangerously close to tears again. Bugger. He hasn't come all the way out here to mock her, has he?
"I couldn't help but notice that the Delacour girl seemed rather put out. Two blokes fighting over someone other than herself." He grins. "I don't think she ever witnessed anything like it before. Still, the experience might have done her some good, though. Maybe it'll help to bring her down a few notches and she'll start being a little nicer to people around here."
Hermione blinks, and then cracks a small smile. She can't help it. The thought of Fleur Delacour with her pretty blond hair, perfect figure and those sophisticated French ways, being jealous of her is rather amusing, and also quite gratifying after the way the girl has been looking down her nose at everyone, especially the Hogwarts students.
"Anyway, Granger, I just wanted to make certain that you were all right," he continues, suddenly looking less sure of himself. "You are, aren't you?"
She nods. "It's been quite a night, but I guess I'll live."
"I should hope so," he says. "Though I must confess that I was a little disappointed to see you leave the Ball so soon."
She blinks again. "You were?"
He nods. "I'd been hoping for a dance, actually."
Hermione's eyes widen. This evening is getting stranger by the second. "But what about Cho?"
"Well." He sits down next to her on the bench. "Cho already went back to her dorm; claimed she was feeling tired."
"Oh."
"To be honest, I think I may have bored her by talking too much Quidditch."
"Fancy that," Hermione says, and laughs.
Cedric shakes his head. "I thought it was a perfectly acceptable topic, seeing how the girl plays the sport herself. Well, clearly I was mistaken."
Hermione chuckles again.
The silence that follows is comfortable and pleasant, and for reasons she can't explain, she feels as though a large weight has been lifted off her shoulders.
Whatever happens tomorrow, things will be fine. It was all just… teenage nonsense anyway.
"Don't let it get to you too much, Granger," Cedric offers, his voice serious once more. "They were both completely wrong for you from the very start."
"Oh?"
"You need someone dedicated, intelligent, hard-working and considerably less two-dimensional than Krum or Weasley."
"I see." She raises an eyebrow in challenge, and adds, "You wouldn't happen to know anyone fitting that description, would you, Diggory?"
He smiles. "Perhaps."
Hermione suppresses the urge to giggle-because really, it's not the sort of thing she does; ever-but nonetheless, she cannot deny that she's flattered and maybe-just maybe, mind-slightly interested, too.
Goodness. What a bizarre day this has been, and it's not quite over yet.
"So," he says, and nervously clears his throat.
"So," she repeats.
He gets up and holds out his hand. "How about that dance, then?"
She grins, well aware that there is only one possible answer to that question. "Yes."
Drabble #4:
Title: Something New
By: gingeraled
Rating: R
Warnings: mentions sexual activity
Summary: Almost four months is a short time for something new to become something old.
Pairing: Hermione Granger/Adrian Pucey
Word Count: 797
It was different. It was a change of pace.
This one fulfilled all the expectations cultivated in her by years of reading fairy tales of all lengths and languages. This one didn’t call her names, didn’t row with her, didn’t laugh at her habit of curling up with a book at odd times of the day.
This one bought her flowers, and danced with her.
She liked it.
--
The feeling in Hermione’s heart was contentment as Adrian Pucey, unassuming owner of the Wizarding World’s largest transportation company, poured her some wine. They were at his flat in the exclusive residential strip just outside Diagon Alley having one of their quiet dinners together, occasions she cherished as they gave her a time to simply unwind.
With Adrian, she didn’t need to do any mothering. He was the one who took care of her.
Adrian gave her a small smile. It reminded her of the first time he ever smiled at her, which was during a chance encounter at the grocer’s over the last bag of fresh mushrooms.
“You should take it,” he’d said. “I could always put off cooking my salads.”
“No,” she’d argued. “Please take it. I don’t really know how to cook myself.”
Adrian had smiled then, and offered her his hand while making his introduction. She was slightly stunned when she remembered him as someone who used to play in the Slytherin Quidditch team, but was even more shocked when he remarked that, of course, he knew who she was.
“Of course, you’re Hermione Granger,” he’d remarked casually. “How could I not know?”
Her eyes had widened almost comically. “How did you know?”
Adrian laughed a deep, rich, laugh. “It’s really hard to miss the names of the new Wizarding world’s heroes,” he said with another smile. “And we went to Hogwarts together.”
Neither of them bought the mushrooms.
That encounter was followed by another when she bumped into him at Flourish and Blotts, and yet another when she saw him at Gringotts. He’d invited her to an ice cream at Fortescue’s then, which earned him a raised eyebrow.
He raised an eyebrow back at her. “What? I like ice cream.”
“I’m a Muggleborn, you know,” Hermione reminded him.
“I know. And I’m a pureblood. I hope that fact doesn’t put you off ice cream.”
--
Adrian clearing his throat brought Hermione back to the present. He was smiling at her, of course, but the smile held a question.
“Oh. Sorry,” Hermione said. “I was just remembering how we first met.”
“What about it?” Adrian asked as he pulled her up from her chair and led her to his bedroom.
“Everything just felt so new.”
--
Adrian’s hands on her skin were always gentle, always reverent. First, with his fingers he would trace her lips, then trail them down to her collarbone, and further down until he reached her sex. He would make sure she was wet and ready for him before he entered, always with his eyes closed and his mouth half open.
He would pump into her. And again. And her orgasm would build deep and explode.
Then, he would come himself.
Almost four months of this brand of sex. Hermione couldn’t be blamed if she remembered the long and hard body that used to pound her into the mattress, the filthy words that were whispered in her ear. Gods, Hermione, you feel so fucking good. I love you.
No. Hermione would force those thoughts out of her head. Adrian was good to her. He gave her flowers, took her out on expensive dates, danced with her.
It was different.
--
Always, after sex, Adrian would fall asleep and Hermione would stay awake. She would think of the almost four months between the two of them, how it had been so new and fresh and different. How it was so much better than what she used to have.
How it was better.
She was to blame, really, for everything. She’d rushed into this because of its novelty; it wouldn’t be fair to look for bits and pieces of him in Adrian. She’d wanted someone different-someone who would sweep her off her feet with flowers and dinners and talks by the fire, and that was Adrian. But then the novelty wore off.
Looking back, Hermione realized that the beating of her heart had never gone into overdrive by merely gazing at Adrian. She’d never felt his kisses down to the tips of her toes. She'd never felt her blood rush when in an argument with him.
The realization was a heavy weight on her chest.
--
Hermione dressed silently, gazing at Adrian’s sleeping form, thinking how almost four months of something new had turned into something old so quickly.
She gathered her things and left.
Drabble #5:
Title: Hermione and the Muggle Champion
By: luvscharlie
Rating: R
Warnings: sexual content, adult language
Summary: Hermione has an encounter at Lee Jordan's engagement party that she will not soon forget.
Pairing: Hermione Granger/Fred Weasley
Word Count: 997
Fred whistled his approval at the tight denims she donned for Lee and Katie's engagement party, as he entered their bedroom. She gave Fred a once over and reciprocated with a whistle of her own.
Fred crossed the room, wrapping his arms around her. He squeezed her arse, then slipped his hand between her legs stroking her, as he grasped the thin strap holding her camisole-like top in place between his teeth and tugged it down her shoulder. Fred's tongue teased the exposed skin of her shoulder and his fingers evoked the most delightful sensations between her legs. He canted his hips against her backside, and she felt him pressing hard against her.
"I need you, pet," he whispered, increasing the pressure of his fingers. "Need you now."
"Fred," she whimpered, her tone pleading. "We don't have time for this. We're going to be late." She reluctantly twisted from his embrace.
"What do you say we skive off the party and have one of our own?"
"You and George are going to be Lee's best men. You cannot skive off his engagement party!"
"You know what it does to me when you're bossy." He rubbed his cock harder against her bum for emphasis.
"Stop it."
He sighed, sounding defeated, "Bloody hell! I suppose I have to go, but all I really want to do right now is throw you down on the bed and rip your clothes off."
"I promise you can rip my clothes off later. How's that?"
"It'll do, I suppose," he said, sounding like a petulant child.
"Shall we go then?"
He grumbled, but took her hand and side-along Apparated them into Lee's garden, where the party was already in full swing. Music blasted from the wireless and faerie lights twinkled in the trees as couples twirled around on the enchanted dance floor.
Fred accepted the Firewhisky Lee offered, and when Hermione declined, she was handed a Muggle drink that Katie's family had supplied. Lee said the females seemed to be enjoying it, so she accepted the glass containing the bubbly liquid.
"Katie's cousin called it champion, I think," said Lee, showing her a tall green bottle.
Hermione took a sip. It didn't burn like the Firewhisky Fred drank. In fact, she rather liked the little bubbles that tickled her nose.
Fred draped an arm around her waist as they chatted with friends. They danced to several songs, and Hermione wasn't sure if it was the little bubbles in the champion that made her feet lack coordination, or if it was merely the intoxicating feeling of being held in her lover's arms as they glided across the dance floor.
They conversed, laughed, danced and drank for several hours. Hermione developed a great affection for the Muggle drink and lost count of how many she consumed.
When they joined Fred's brothers at a table, her cheeks were flushed and her body tingled. She was not one to appreciate displays of public affection, but the longer she sat next to Fred, the more she felt the accumulation of moisture between her thighs. He was delicious, and she could not remember a time she wanted him so desperately. When she could no longer withstand the temptation, she stood, swaying as she did so, and straddled his lap, crushing her lips down onto his and rolling her hips in the way he loved, amidst his brothers' cat-calling and whistling. When they parted, both were breathing hard.
"Fuck, baby."
"Take me home, Fred."
He Apparated them onto their bed without a word. He pressed her back into the mattress and unfastened her jeans.
"Fred," she said weakly, holding a hand to her forehead, where there was a light sheen of perspiration.
"What is it, love?"
"The room is spinning."
"Doesn't the room usually spin when I kiss you?" He leaned in and kissed her mouth lightly before he recommenced tugging her jeans down her thighs.
"Not like this, Fred. I think I'm gonna be sick."
"My kissing technique may need some work if I make you feel sick," he teased.
She shook her head to indicate they did not, but winced and groaned at the movement.
He chuckled when she pulled a face, "You're rat-arsed, my love."
"I'm not." she slurred, holding her stomach and grimacing.
"I think we've got a potion that'll help. Raise your hips." He pulled her jeans down her legs and tossed them aside. "Be right back."
He returned carrying a green vial. "This is about the colour of your skin."
She scowled at him for mocking her.
"Sit up," he said, helping her into the position. "You have to take this all in one drink or it won't help. So, be a good girl and drink up." He pressed the vial to her lips and forced her to continue taking it when she started to gag. "That's my girl," he said rubbing her back.
Typically, she wouldn't have tolerated being talked to in such a patronising manner, but she felt so bad she simply whimpered and laid her head against his shoulder.
He told her to raise her arms, which she did with a fair amount of whinging, and tugged her shirt over her head. He helped her beneath the blankets sniggering at her mismatched bra and knickers.
He used his wand to extinguish the candles lighting the room, stripped down to his shorts and climbed in beside her. "Come here, my little lush, and let me hold you."
"Stop poking fun."
"How's your tummy?" he asked, stroking his finger across it.
"Really icky."
"Give the potion time to take hold. Just rest baby, and I'll take care of you."
"I love you, Fred."
"Love you too." He pressed a kiss to her forehead as she settled against him.
Drabble #6:
Title: Infinite
By: bambu345
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Summary: Their friends may not approve, but Hermione has never bent to peer pressure.
Pairing: Hermione Granger/Terrence Higgs
Word Count: 997
***
“Are you sure?”
“We can cancel the appointment,” she replied.
“No! I want - you realize it isn’t reversible.”
“I did the research.”
He pulled her to a stop at the corner of Diagon and Aetern Alleys, his blue eyes searching her face. “Hermione, there’s a world of difference between theory and reality.”
Exasperated, she huffed, and when a tendril of her hair was caught in the updraft, Terry smiled. Capturing the wayward curl, he twined the baby-fine strands about his index finger.
Despite being forced to take a step back by a witch pushing past her, Hermione’s expression softened into the tender, private look she reserved for him. “You know I understand the difference between theory and reality.”
“Weasley’s already offering odds on our longevity.” Terry glowered. “Potter keeps telling you I’m a mistake of Grawp-sized proportions, and spouting Muggle divorce statistics as if he’s presenting a paper to the Wizengamot!”
Hermione closed the distance between them. “I’m tired of my friends -- and yours -- making disparaging comments about us. Initially, it was how we could never work together … that you were a Slytherin.” She sniffed disdainfully. “We left school a decade ago!”
“I’ve never cared that you were a Gryffindor,” he said.
“I know. It’s just -- our relationship is none of their business!”
“You’re right. It’s ours.”
When he might’ve continued she pressed her fingers to his lips. “I want to do this for you.”
“For me?” He maneuvered them beneath a stone archway thus granting a semblance of privacy from wizarding London’s main thoroughfare.
Hermione quickly drew her wand and cast a Seclusion Bubble. “I want you to believe in the depth of my commitment to you … to us.” Suddenly, she glanced past him and an infinitesimal tremor shook her voice. “If you don’t want -- If you have doubts --”
Terry pulled her into his arms so fast she almost smacked her nose on his chin, but then his mouth met hers, and their kiss was sweet and hungry. His fingers weaved into her mass of curls while one of her hands burrowed into his robes to rest directly over his heart. “I love you,” he murmured.
“You, too.”
For a long moment, he leaned his forehead against hers. Then, as soft as a butterfly’s kiss, his eyelashes grazed her unlined brow, and he angled his head to stare guilelessly into her soul. “Shall we go spend half our savings to commit ourselves irrevocably to one another?”
“Absolutely.”
Ten minutes later, Terrence Higgs and Hermione Granger crossed the threshold of Amanuensis, located on the second floor of twelve Aetern Alley. It was the most exclusive establishment of its kind, and Terry’s mother, Miranda, had exerted her influence to get her son an appointment sooner than the following year.
Ushered into a spacious treatment room, Terry and Hermione hadn’t long to wait. A slender witch with pure white hair entered, smiling serenely. “I’m Rowena Scrivenshaft,” she introduced herself. “Customarily, I would ask a series of questions, but in your case, it will be unnecessary.”
Hermione asked bluntly, “Why?”
“You’ve already made the commitment.” Rowena crossed to an armoire, a surreptitious wave of her wand and music -- a reed instrumental -- filled the room. “Undress please and lay on the platform, Miss Granger on Mr. Higgs’ left.”
Hermione watched Rowena select a small gold cauldron and several vials of potion ingredients before removing her own clothing. She couldn’t resist a covetous glance in Terry’s direction. In Seeker-condition, he was lean and perfectly proportioned; when Hermione raised her eyes, he was watching her. Her cheeks burned and Terry grinned, blatantly staring at her breasts as she climbed onto the thickly padded, hovering dais.
Rowena circled the platform, casting a series of revealing spells upon the couple. After each spell, she added ingredients to the golden cauldron until a curl of rainbow smoke rose from the depths of the small vessel. “You’re fortunate,” she commented.
“How so?” Terry asked.
“You’re extremely compatible, something which will deepen over time. Many pair-bondings are less successful.”
“See?” Hermione whispered, and Terry shifted closer to her.
Rowena asked, “Have you chosen a design?”
“We understand there’s an option to let the spell decide.”
“That’s true, although the Copuliugo is rarely performed. Most choose the lesser spell, preferring to make their representational selection themselves.”
A thoughtful expression crossed Hermione’s face. “I see.”
“Do you?”
“Certainly. It’s a matter of style versus substance.”
Rowena’s smile was genuine. “Perceptive.”
Terry proclaimed, “I’m perfectly willing to let our magic choose the tattoo’s form.”
Hermione leaned over her intended, brushing his lips with hers. “One of the many reasons I love you.”
He grinned.
“If you’re ready,” Rowena said, and they settled quickly.
With a flick of her wrist, Rowena summoned cauldron and cup, then poured iridescent liquid into Hermione’s and Terry’s navels. Next, in what resembled a dance, the white-haired witch gracefully drew the essence of magic from Hermione, Terry, and the planet, weaving it into her spell. Magic pulsed in the air and Rowena cried, “Amplexor copuliugo!”
The room was plunged into darkness save for a rainbow of scintillating light.
When Hermione and Terry woke they were alone.
Perceiving movement at his waist, Terry raised his head. “Hermione,” he whispered, hoarsely, “look!”
Their bonding had chosen its own mark. It wasn’t flamboyant; rather, it was a narrow slipstream of magic undulating in a figure-eight pattern linking her navel and his.
“Can we move independently?” she asked in an awed, slightly apprehensive tone.
“Mum and Dad have never complained.” He eased himself from the conformable surface, the lemniscate accommodating his movements: stretching, thinning, and rendered invisible where it no longer touched him.
“Oh!” Hermione’s eyes were huge.
He rounded the platform, helping her to her feet. They stared in wonder at their tattoo, a symbol of infinity. It rippled in a cascade of color, in, through, and beyond Terry and Hermione, wrapping the couple in their conjoined magic.
“Together forever, Mrs. Higgs,” Terry said before he kissed her.
***
Drabble #7:
Title: Things She's Never Said
By: snowpuppies
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: angst, f/f, mild sexuality, implied character death (not Hermione)
Summary: There are things Hermione's never said to Ginny.
Pairing: Hermione/Ginny
Word Count: 758
Things She's Never Said
Hermione watches, transfixed, as Ginny scowls, dropping her quill carelessly on the blotter and charming her essay blank before sighing and starting again.
It's strange, Hermione thinks. Ginny's doing nothing that others haven't done before-she's seen the same expression on Ron's face dozens of times, and if she's totally honest, she'll admit she's worn it a few times herself-but for some reason, she just can't tear her eyes away from the furrow in Ginny's brow, the angry glint in her eyes, the jutting curve of her mouth.
She really must be loosing it.
But try as she might, Theory of Numerology simply cannot hold her attention when Ginny Weasley is in the room.
She's going to get an "E" if she's not careful.
Horrifying as the thought is, there's a little part of her that doesn't care, that wants nothing more than to kiss that scowl away.
She's fought with the urge for weeks, eyes glued to Ginny's lips when she talks, when she eats, when she chews on the ends of her hair.
And it's not going away.
So there's only one thing to do.
She's never told Ginny how much she wants to kiss her, but she will.
***
A roar echoes across the stadium as Ginny raises her fist, the Golden Snitch glinting softly in the evening sun.
Hermione yells and applauds; she's never found Quidditch quite so…interesting.
The moment Ginny lands, she's swept up by her teammates, emerging above the crowd balanced on Fred and George's shoulders.
Hermione makes her way out of the stands and onto the pitch, carried along by the stream of her classmates, eager to celebrate their victory.
Ginny grins-eyes lit up with delight, dark auburn tendrils clinging to her temples and neck where they've escaped her messy ponytail-as the Gryffindors cheer. Her gaze finds Hermione in the crowd, and Hermione's breath catches in her throat.
She thinks her heart skips a beat.
She's never told Ginny just how beautiful she is, but she will.
***
Quietly, Hermione sneaks down the stairs, carefully stepping over the third step-the squeaky one-then making her way down and into Ginny's room.
She yawns, wanting nothing more than to crawl into a nice, warm bed, but knows she won't have time to pack in the morning. Something tells her the wedding won't go off without a hitch-possibly more than one-and she knows she'll have to be prepared for anything.
She glances over at the bed, where Ginny's snuffling into her pillow, before charming her beaded bag bottomless and beginning to stuff it with her research, supplies, and food.
Just as she fastens the clasp, Ginny whimpers in her sleep.
Hermione smiles softly, tucking away her bag and slipping out of her clothes before sliding under the duvet and pulling Ginny close.
Pressing her face to the back of Ginny's neck, she inhales, relaxing as the scent of lilacs-Ginny's shampoo-fills her senses.
This is the thing she hates the most: leaving Ginny behind in their hunt for the Horcruxes. But Harry's adamant that no one else be put at risk and, as much as she hates to give this up, she agrees that putting Ginny in unnecessary danger is out of the question.
She sighs, gently caressing the outlines of Ginny's face, smoothing the fringe from her forehead, and tracing the curve of her lips.
"Ginny…," she whispers into Ginny's hair, but the words die away, swallowed by the darkness.
She's never told Ginny how much she loves her, but she will.
***
It's quiet.
And still.
Like all life has suddenly…stopped.
Maybe it has.
Because the moment she sees Ginny's name carved into stone, Hermione stops breathing.
They won.
And Voldemort is gone and they're all free…
And this just can't be happening to her.
Still not speaking, breathing, living, she slips a hand into her pocket, fingering the velvety pouch she's kept there for months, just waiting for the right moment...
The world starts spinning and she starts breathing again and she doesn't know how, because she should be dead, should be in the ground next to Ginny, but she's not. And it's not fair-after she'd left Ginny behind, left her to keep her safe-that she's survived and Ginny is…
With a sob, she slips to the ground and buries her face in the dewy grass.
It doesn't smell like lilacs.
She's never told Ginny that she wants to spend the rest of her life with her…
…and she never will.
Drabble #8:
Title: No Words
By: megans-writing
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: AU. Sirius is alive, yet Remus is not. Het. Age difference. EWE.
Summary: Even five years after the war, Sirius and Hermione rarely get a chance to relax.
Pairing: Sirius/Hermione
Word Count: 938
Relaxation was a rare opportunity even five years after the war. Everyone's lives seemed to be chaotic. Everyday bodies were being discovered. There was always a funeral to attend. Friends and families needed financial and emotional support. Towns, homes, and businesses were still being rebuilt. Rogue Death Eaters who still wanted revenge were still being captured. Everyone tried to go on as best as they could.
Hermione had become a successful lawyer in the Wizarding World, defending many victims of Voldemort's Second War. She even worked on a few high profile Muggle cases, as well. She made enough money to support herself and to help Sirius out if he was short on Galleons.
Even though Sirius had been cleared of all charges eight years ago, most people would not hire him. Most were still under the assumption that he was a cold blooded murder. He never stayed at one job very long. He often took jobs in Muggle retail stores working as a cashier, but he would always find the job boring with little pay. George offered Sirius a job at the joke shop time after time, but he never accepted it.
Sirius and Hermione had been a couple for three years. At first many complained of how immoral their relationship was. They were never afraid to defend their relationship. It wasn't like they had been madly in love ever since they had met in the Shrieking Shack. Sirius hadn't realized he was attracted to his godson's best friend until Hermione's nineteenth birthday, and he tried with all of his might to repress his feelings toward her. The only person he had admitted his feelings to was Harry. To his surprise, Harry laughed and confessed that he had known for a while. It was also Harry who played match-maker. Sirius and Hermione were always grateful for that.
Today the Weasleys and all of their friends were celebrating the fifth year anniversary of Voldemort's defeat. Dinner had yet to be served, so Hermione and Sirius opted to spend time alone by the pond on the Weasley property. Sirius had laid out a blanket for them to lie on. Hermione was curled up against his side in contentment. No words were exchanged. They were perfectly comfortable without them.
Sirius was about to nod off when he felt Hermione shift herself and point towards the sky. "What do you think that one looks like?"
"What does what look like?" he asked.
She smiled. "That cloud. See where I'm pointing?"
He adjusted himself to see the cloud from her angle. "Well I think it looks like a Hippogriff. You probably think it looks like an otter."
She lightly hit his arm. "How'd you know that?"
He titled his head back as if welcoming the sun onto his face. "Because I know everything about you."
She sat up, her arms crossed over her chest. "Oh really? Care to test that theory?"
He turned toward her, his eyes smiling. "Give me your best shot."
She pondered, her chin resting on her fist. "What was my first word?"
"Potty."
"How many cousins do I have?"
"Six."
"What's my mother's maiden name?"
"Shanis."
"What's my favorite color?"
"Green."
"Who was my favorite teacher at Hogwarts?"
"Moony, I believe."
"What other names were my parents considering to name me?"
"For a boy either Lysander or Iago. For a girl, Regan."
"Big Shakespeare nuts, eh?"
Sirius laughed. "Seems so."
"Last question. What does my Boggart turn into?"
"Presently, or while you were in school?"
"Presently."
"Your Boggart turns into me. I'm lying on the ground. My eyes are expressionless. I'm dead."
Hermione was silent, chewing on her lip. Sirius pulled her into a hug and kissed the top of her head. "Did I pass?"
She smiled, weakly. "Yes, you passed."
Sirius pulled away from her for a second, taking something out of his pant pocket and holding it out to Hermione, who eyed it suspiously. "Go on, take it."
Cautiously she took the tiny velvet green box. Her eyes rose to meet Sirius' who encouraged her to open it. Slowly, she cracked the box open and gasped when she saw what was inside. Delicately, she lifted the pink diamond ring with a gold band. She gazed up at her lover. Sirius gently took the ring from her and got on bended knee, holding the ring out to her. "Hermione, I have been through so much in my life and have never been truly happy until I became your friend and lover. I never want to let you slip away. I'd die if you were not with me. You are my other half, my love. Hermione Jean Granger, will you marry me?"
Hermione flung herself onto Sirus, arms around his neck. Sirius gasped when he saw the tears running down her face. He cupped her cheek and kissed her tenderly. "Hermione, have I upset you?"
She violently shook her head. "No, dummy! I'm…" She sniffled, wiping her tears on the back of her hand. "I'm so happy!"
Sirius pulled her body closer to him as they passionately kissed. Hermione thought that she could die kissing him like this. Soon enough, they pulled away for air, chests heaving. Sirius smiled and took Hermione's hand and slipped the ring on her finger. They stared into each others' eyes. They didn't need words. Their love was dense in the air. Their eye contact was broken when they heard Molly announcing that dinner was ready. They stood up and collected the blanket. He firmly grasped her hand and said "Let's give them all a surprise,eh?" They laughed as they walked toward their future.
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