February Dramione Quiz Round 3 - Romance!
Welcome to February's edition of Dramione Quiz! Of COURSE we're celebrating romance - how could we not?
You have until midnight Friday, FEBRUARY 20th to complete the quiz! Match the following stories to the list below via a comment here with your answers. PLEASE list the TITLE of the story, NOT the number in your answers!
1. Grey Tuesdays by floorcoaster
2. Some Blond Fool by Flowers Become Screens (fbs_fic
3. What If You Could Have Wished Me Away by Crookshanks
4. Where There's a Will by grangerinvestigations
5. Tin Angel by AraLuna
6. Between Forgetting and Remembering by ilkee
7. Saving Valentine's by Hanako A
8. Cognitive Dissonance by sandiwands
9. A Dream Worth Keeping by SeanEmma4evr
10. It Happened One Valentine's Day by ky_dionys
1. "Excuse me? Not celebrate Valentine's? Why would I do that?" he asked. He would never try to convince anyone to do that, especially when his House relied upon that day when it came to closing the gap in terms of house points. "I am not sure what fool notion your Gryffindors have taken up, but believe me, I have had nothing to do with it."
"Oh, now that's not a convincing lie. Care to try again? And keep in mind that I know Parkinson was just following your orders when she made that suggestion of hers at our last meeting." At those words, the rest of the room broke out into laughter.
"What?" Granger spat out, doing her best to level her death glare at everyone at once.
"So sorry, Granger," said Theo. "But the idea of all of us being in lock step with Draco's orders is just…."
"Mad? Insane? So ridiculous that only a Gryffindor could believe it?" suggested Zabini.
"I would have to say all of the above," answered Theo. "Our House doesn't have any sort of unified hierarchy, my dear, and I certainly don't answer-" Draco trod back on his friend's foot then and there to prevent him from saying anything else to damage Draco's reputation with the rest of Hogwarts. He liked being feared as the de facto ruler of Slytherins by idiots who didn't know better thank you very much.
2.
She went up to the kitchen counter and got three mugs from the cupboard, knowing Remus would probably like some when he returned. Trying to block out his presence, she put the kettle on with elaborate movements and concentrated on the task of making coffee. Maybe that’s why it surprised her so much when he came up behind her and leaned against the counter with one arm on either side of her. He had trapped her in and she felt every bit of his body against her back. Her breath caught in her throat as memories came surging back, sending heat waves through her body.
“What are you doing?” she breathed, and he leaned in closer.
“You drive my crazy,” he whispered against her ear and the feel of his breath sent chills down her spine. It was unreal. Unreal to have him so close after so long, and she couldn’t fight it, no matter how bad she wanted to.
She concentrated on breathing in and out, and didn’t even stop focusing on her breath as he grabbed her waist and turned her towards him. His face was so close she could smell his scent. He smelled like he always had, and it made her feel light headed and completely empty of self control. She could never resist him and now was not an exception. In and out. Let the breath in. Let it out. He bent closer as she kept her insane concentration on breathing and his lips came so close they almost touched hers.
3.
You could know his favorite brand of soap, see his hair in the morning, guess which films he would prefer to see, and order his favorite Chinese take-away.
Time is nonexistent as he kisses you, but soon-all you know is that it's too soon-he pulls away, a smoldering look in his eyes. He glances at your lips and smiles. You return it shyly and awareness slowly returns. There are people around; some of them are staring. You redden.
He lets you go but takes your hand. "Dinner?"
You let out a chuckle because you'd been about to tell him no. Now the very idea is absurd.
4.
Love only gives one answer, and it is YES.
To every fear that begs to be faced.
To every longing for approval, to the need to be valued.
To the heart's wish to be treasured, even with its cuts and scars showing.
Love says yes.
When he stumbled with her through that pale blue dawn, fear and hope thrumming in his veins, when they stood at her gate and she pressed her palm to his face, and her eyes were shiny and full and warm, love said yes.
Days later, when they stood in the graveyard and she laced her fingers with his, love said yes.
Sunny afternoons as they laughed over pints of Guinness, when he would touch her neck or her ear, and she would blush softly, love said yes.
And when she finally came to the cottage, and it sighed in relief, as if it had been waiting for her, holding her place until she returned, love said yes.
He understood now that there had been no other course he could have taken. No alternate path that would have led somewhere else. Just as the sea can only be the sea, the only answer love could give him was her.
Tonight, his answer stood at the open window in the dark bedroom, their bedroom, outlined in sharp blue lines of moonlight, and gazing out at a black ocean.
5.
They spent a few seconds in silence. Hermione listened to him breathe.
"I forgot how annoying your voice sounded, Malfoy."
He took a deep breath. "I miss you too, Hermione."
She nearly dropped her phone.
"So anyway, happy birthday again. I'll see you online?"
Hermione had a hard time speaking. "Y-yeah! Definitely."
"Okay, good. Bye." There was a click on the line and he was gone.
She slowly put the phone back in her pocket then leaned her elbows against her knees, her hands clasping together. She wasn't sure if Draco was being serious with the whole missing her business. She definitely did not want to get her hopes up. The worst thing to happen right was to actually believe in something that was nothing. What was she going to do?
Nothing. There was absolutely nothing to do but wait it out.
She missed him more.
"Well, Hermione," she told herself. "You're screwed."
6.
In seconds he had crossed to her, and they were kissing. His lips were everywhere - on her mouth, cheeks, neck, eyes. His hands pulled at her hair and her clothes, trying to bring her closer, trying to get every inch of her that he could. She responded by grabbing his jumper and yanking him against her; her mouth eagerly opening to him. No kiss had ever been like this for her.
"I am so in love with you," he whispered, unable to stop himself.
At that declaration, she pushed him away. "Malfoy, what are you-"
"No," he said, pulling her back to him. "Not Malfoy, Draco. Don't think so much, Granger, just feel for a change." He tried to kiss her again, but she resisted.
"Malfoy - Draco - this is insanity. You need to leave, you're not thinking straight." Hermione was shocked to her core. Every bone in her body was telling her to just shut up and kiss him again, but if he really felt that way...
"I am finally thinking straight, Granger!" Draco exclaimed, running his hands through his hair and looking at her in frustration. "For months, I've been lying to myself. Now I want to be honest. You're all I think about. This job - you - it's changed me. I'm not the same boy who wanted to be a Death Eater, and you're not the same bossy little girl. You've finished what the war started, finished making me a better person."
"You did that on your own, Malfoy," she said.
"It's you, Granger, it's always been you," he replied.
7. She would never know if it was her or Draco that moved first. Either way, they met at the lips. His arms slid around her effortlessly and the pressure of his body against hers was enough to shut off the rational part of her brain. She needed this. She needed…
To be shagged silly? To be reminded that she was beautiful, desirable, worthwhile? To control him…?
He had thrown caution to the wind. He was kissing her like a man returned from a long war, one that had tested his very psyche - an apt comparison. His eyes were closed, his hands restless on her back, and his mouth equally restless against hers.
She sank against his chest, luxuriating in the kiss. His tongue plied hers, coaxed it, provoked it, until at last she retaliated and pushed forward into his mouth. It drew a quiet, fantastic sound of pleasure out of him. That sound lit her nerve endings on fire in a way she never would have expected. Every stroke of his tongue, every move of his scalding hand beneath her tank top was reducing her to a puddle of pure desire. She had never felt quite like this with Ron, not ever…
8.
Look, your friends died and you survived; I can understand how much pain you’re in considering the same went for me. Albeit the dark side claimed my family long ago through brainwashing, but I digress. You survived and they didn’t, but that doesn’t mean you have to feel the way you do,” he told her firmly, his hand still grasping her chin; “I know you want to crawl away from everyone else, but why? Why do that when you’re in a place like this with a man who was never meant to feel anything? Why can’t you see that there are things to live for?”
“Like what?” she asked.
“Look around you. This entire place is life; the grass, the flowers, the animals roaming...it’s all life,” he whispered.
“I know...”
“You’ve got me to live for.”
His words nearly knocked her over. All breath escaped her as she met his eyes, those beautiful oceans of grey ice, ironically so guarded yet incredibly inviting.
“I’m falling for you, Hermione.”
Hermione sucked in a deep breath before he leaned over to kiss her again. This time, however, she responded in kind, allowing him to lower her to the ground and get lost in the grassy knoll.
His kiss was intoxicating.
His kiss made her feel alive...
9.
This man certainly knew how to kiss! Hermione wasn’t particularly experienced in kissing, but she knew enough to know that she was being kissed by a man who was well-versed in the art of physical seduction. He hadn’t been sloppy, he hadn’t tried to force his tongue down her throat. Instead, from the moment his lips had touched hers, the kiss had been soft, gentle … welcoming. His hands moved in slow circles over her back, soothing her, calming her … encouraging her to wrap her arms around his neck and settle into his embrace, to settle into his kiss.
Merlin’s beard, she thought, if this is just a peck to him, I wonder what his concept of a real kiss is.
Draco was still kissing her, and his hands still pressed against her back, unconsciously pushing her closer, tighter to him. She felt herself falling into the kiss, losing herself in it. Her arms had wound their way around his waist, trailed up to settle around his neck. Her body seemed to fit right in against the contours of his; Hermione was surprised at how right, how perfect, this seemed to feel.
Draco’s tongue was slowly tracing the curve of her lips, gently probing, seeking entry into her mouth. Hermione opened her mouth slightly, welcoming him in, and their tongues touched in a slow, provocative dance. Her legs were starting to feel wobbly at the knees, her entire body was heating up from the sparks of electricity that was shooting up and down her spine, and she could feel herself melting against him, feel herself weaken at this lingering, electrifying seduction …
How long she stood there, lost in his kiss, she had no idea. It could’ve been for minutes, it could’ve been hours. Hell, it could’ve been for an eternity, and she still wouldn’t have minded. When he finally lifted his mouth from hers, when he finally pulled away, Hermione found herself breathless, found herself without bearings.
10.
As the lights went down and the director took the stage to introduce the new production, Draco leaned down to whisper in her ear, unable to resist a gentle nip at the tender skin of her lobe, before murmuring, "How do you like the Opera House, Granger? I bet those Weasels could sell off a few of their younglings and come with us next time. I'm sure they'd piss their pants at a chance to leave that rabbit-hole they claim for a house. What do they call it? The Hovel?"
She smirked, sensing his jibes were only excuses to attempt to touch her without anyone being the wiser. She turned her head toward his, her lips just barely grazing his as she leaned up to reach his ear. "The Burrow," she sighed, as he sucked gently at her lobe, "And I like the opera house just fine, though its not the best I've ever seen."
"No?" he whispered, tracing the inner shell of her ear with his tongue.
"No. Palais Garnier. In Paris." Her voice was breathy as his warm tongue explored the cool skin of her ear, "My parents took me there when I was younger. To see Le Lac des Cygnes. Even without magic it was marvelous."
"Really? Perhaps you should whisk me there for our next date."
"Do you enjoy a good whisking?" she asked, pulling away to give him a mischevious smile.
"As long as you aren't too rough. I'm a delicate boy."
She slowly looked him up and down, then arched one skeptical brow before turning to the stage as the first notes of music rang out.
You have until midnight Friday, FEBRUARY 20th to complete the quiz! Match the following stories to the list below via a comment here with your answers. PLEASE list the TITLE of the story, NOT the number in your answers!
1. Grey Tuesdays by floorcoaster
2. Some Blond Fool by Flowers Become Screens (fbs_fic
3. What If You Could Have Wished Me Away by Crookshanks
4. Where There's a Will by grangerinvestigations
5. Tin Angel by AraLuna
6. Between Forgetting and Remembering by ilkee
7. Saving Valentine's by Hanako A
8. Cognitive Dissonance by sandiwands
9. A Dream Worth Keeping by SeanEmma4evr
10. It Happened One Valentine's Day by ky_dionys
1. "Excuse me? Not celebrate Valentine's? Why would I do that?" he asked. He would never try to convince anyone to do that, especially when his House relied upon that day when it came to closing the gap in terms of house points. "I am not sure what fool notion your Gryffindors have taken up, but believe me, I have had nothing to do with it."
"Oh, now that's not a convincing lie. Care to try again? And keep in mind that I know Parkinson was just following your orders when she made that suggestion of hers at our last meeting." At those words, the rest of the room broke out into laughter.
"What?" Granger spat out, doing her best to level her death glare at everyone at once.
"So sorry, Granger," said Theo. "But the idea of all of us being in lock step with Draco's orders is just…."
"Mad? Insane? So ridiculous that only a Gryffindor could believe it?" suggested Zabini.
"I would have to say all of the above," answered Theo. "Our House doesn't have any sort of unified hierarchy, my dear, and I certainly don't answer-" Draco trod back on his friend's foot then and there to prevent him from saying anything else to damage Draco's reputation with the rest of Hogwarts. He liked being feared as the de facto ruler of Slytherins by idiots who didn't know better thank you very much.
2.
She went up to the kitchen counter and got three mugs from the cupboard, knowing Remus would probably like some when he returned. Trying to block out his presence, she put the kettle on with elaborate movements and concentrated on the task of making coffee. Maybe that’s why it surprised her so much when he came up behind her and leaned against the counter with one arm on either side of her. He had trapped her in and she felt every bit of his body against her back. Her breath caught in her throat as memories came surging back, sending heat waves through her body.
“What are you doing?” she breathed, and he leaned in closer.
“You drive my crazy,” he whispered against her ear and the feel of his breath sent chills down her spine. It was unreal. Unreal to have him so close after so long, and she couldn’t fight it, no matter how bad she wanted to.
She concentrated on breathing in and out, and didn’t even stop focusing on her breath as he grabbed her waist and turned her towards him. His face was so close she could smell his scent. He smelled like he always had, and it made her feel light headed and completely empty of self control. She could never resist him and now was not an exception. In and out. Let the breath in. Let it out. He bent closer as she kept her insane concentration on breathing and his lips came so close they almost touched hers.
3.
You could know his favorite brand of soap, see his hair in the morning, guess which films he would prefer to see, and order his favorite Chinese take-away.
Time is nonexistent as he kisses you, but soon-all you know is that it's too soon-he pulls away, a smoldering look in his eyes. He glances at your lips and smiles. You return it shyly and awareness slowly returns. There are people around; some of them are staring. You redden.
He lets you go but takes your hand. "Dinner?"
You let out a chuckle because you'd been about to tell him no. Now the very idea is absurd.
4.
Love only gives one answer, and it is YES.
To every fear that begs to be faced.
To every longing for approval, to the need to be valued.
To the heart's wish to be treasured, even with its cuts and scars showing.
Love says yes.
When he stumbled with her through that pale blue dawn, fear and hope thrumming in his veins, when they stood at her gate and she pressed her palm to his face, and her eyes were shiny and full and warm, love said yes.
Days later, when they stood in the graveyard and she laced her fingers with his, love said yes.
Sunny afternoons as they laughed over pints of Guinness, when he would touch her neck or her ear, and she would blush softly, love said yes.
And when she finally came to the cottage, and it sighed in relief, as if it had been waiting for her, holding her place until she returned, love said yes.
He understood now that there had been no other course he could have taken. No alternate path that would have led somewhere else. Just as the sea can only be the sea, the only answer love could give him was her.
Tonight, his answer stood at the open window in the dark bedroom, their bedroom, outlined in sharp blue lines of moonlight, and gazing out at a black ocean.
5.
They spent a few seconds in silence. Hermione listened to him breathe.
"I forgot how annoying your voice sounded, Malfoy."
He took a deep breath. "I miss you too, Hermione."
She nearly dropped her phone.
"So anyway, happy birthday again. I'll see you online?"
Hermione had a hard time speaking. "Y-yeah! Definitely."
"Okay, good. Bye." There was a click on the line and he was gone.
She slowly put the phone back in her pocket then leaned her elbows against her knees, her hands clasping together. She wasn't sure if Draco was being serious with the whole missing her business. She definitely did not want to get her hopes up. The worst thing to happen right was to actually believe in something that was nothing. What was she going to do?
Nothing. There was absolutely nothing to do but wait it out.
She missed him more.
"Well, Hermione," she told herself. "You're screwed."
6.
In seconds he had crossed to her, and they were kissing. His lips were everywhere - on her mouth, cheeks, neck, eyes. His hands pulled at her hair and her clothes, trying to bring her closer, trying to get every inch of her that he could. She responded by grabbing his jumper and yanking him against her; her mouth eagerly opening to him. No kiss had ever been like this for her.
"I am so in love with you," he whispered, unable to stop himself.
At that declaration, she pushed him away. "Malfoy, what are you-"
"No," he said, pulling her back to him. "Not Malfoy, Draco. Don't think so much, Granger, just feel for a change." He tried to kiss her again, but she resisted.
"Malfoy - Draco - this is insanity. You need to leave, you're not thinking straight." Hermione was shocked to her core. Every bone in her body was telling her to just shut up and kiss him again, but if he really felt that way...
"I am finally thinking straight, Granger!" Draco exclaimed, running his hands through his hair and looking at her in frustration. "For months, I've been lying to myself. Now I want to be honest. You're all I think about. This job - you - it's changed me. I'm not the same boy who wanted to be a Death Eater, and you're not the same bossy little girl. You've finished what the war started, finished making me a better person."
"You did that on your own, Malfoy," she said.
"It's you, Granger, it's always been you," he replied.
7. She would never know if it was her or Draco that moved first. Either way, they met at the lips. His arms slid around her effortlessly and the pressure of his body against hers was enough to shut off the rational part of her brain. She needed this. She needed…
To be shagged silly? To be reminded that she was beautiful, desirable, worthwhile? To control him…?
He had thrown caution to the wind. He was kissing her like a man returned from a long war, one that had tested his very psyche - an apt comparison. His eyes were closed, his hands restless on her back, and his mouth equally restless against hers.
She sank against his chest, luxuriating in the kiss. His tongue plied hers, coaxed it, provoked it, until at last she retaliated and pushed forward into his mouth. It drew a quiet, fantastic sound of pleasure out of him. That sound lit her nerve endings on fire in a way she never would have expected. Every stroke of his tongue, every move of his scalding hand beneath her tank top was reducing her to a puddle of pure desire. She had never felt quite like this with Ron, not ever…
8.
Look, your friends died and you survived; I can understand how much pain you’re in considering the same went for me. Albeit the dark side claimed my family long ago through brainwashing, but I digress. You survived and they didn’t, but that doesn’t mean you have to feel the way you do,” he told her firmly, his hand still grasping her chin; “I know you want to crawl away from everyone else, but why? Why do that when you’re in a place like this with a man who was never meant to feel anything? Why can’t you see that there are things to live for?”
“Like what?” she asked.
“Look around you. This entire place is life; the grass, the flowers, the animals roaming...it’s all life,” he whispered.
“I know...”
“You’ve got me to live for.”
His words nearly knocked her over. All breath escaped her as she met his eyes, those beautiful oceans of grey ice, ironically so guarded yet incredibly inviting.
“I’m falling for you, Hermione.”
Hermione sucked in a deep breath before he leaned over to kiss her again. This time, however, she responded in kind, allowing him to lower her to the ground and get lost in the grassy knoll.
His kiss was intoxicating.
His kiss made her feel alive...
9.
This man certainly knew how to kiss! Hermione wasn’t particularly experienced in kissing, but she knew enough to know that she was being kissed by a man who was well-versed in the art of physical seduction. He hadn’t been sloppy, he hadn’t tried to force his tongue down her throat. Instead, from the moment his lips had touched hers, the kiss had been soft, gentle … welcoming. His hands moved in slow circles over her back, soothing her, calming her … encouraging her to wrap her arms around his neck and settle into his embrace, to settle into his kiss.
Merlin’s beard, she thought, if this is just a peck to him, I wonder what his concept of a real kiss is.
Draco was still kissing her, and his hands still pressed against her back, unconsciously pushing her closer, tighter to him. She felt herself falling into the kiss, losing herself in it. Her arms had wound their way around his waist, trailed up to settle around his neck. Her body seemed to fit right in against the contours of his; Hermione was surprised at how right, how perfect, this seemed to feel.
Draco’s tongue was slowly tracing the curve of her lips, gently probing, seeking entry into her mouth. Hermione opened her mouth slightly, welcoming him in, and their tongues touched in a slow, provocative dance. Her legs were starting to feel wobbly at the knees, her entire body was heating up from the sparks of electricity that was shooting up and down her spine, and she could feel herself melting against him, feel herself weaken at this lingering, electrifying seduction …
How long she stood there, lost in his kiss, she had no idea. It could’ve been for minutes, it could’ve been hours. Hell, it could’ve been for an eternity, and she still wouldn’t have minded. When he finally lifted his mouth from hers, when he finally pulled away, Hermione found herself breathless, found herself without bearings.
10.
As the lights went down and the director took the stage to introduce the new production, Draco leaned down to whisper in her ear, unable to resist a gentle nip at the tender skin of her lobe, before murmuring, "How do you like the Opera House, Granger? I bet those Weasels could sell off a few of their younglings and come with us next time. I'm sure they'd piss their pants at a chance to leave that rabbit-hole they claim for a house. What do they call it? The Hovel?"
She smirked, sensing his jibes were only excuses to attempt to touch her without anyone being the wiser. She turned her head toward his, her lips just barely grazing his as she leaned up to reach his ear. "The Burrow," she sighed, as he sucked gently at her lobe, "And I like the opera house just fine, though its not the best I've ever seen."
"No?" he whispered, tracing the inner shell of her ear with his tongue.
"No. Palais Garnier. In Paris." Her voice was breathy as his warm tongue explored the cool skin of her ear, "My parents took me there when I was younger. To see Le Lac des Cygnes. Even without magic it was marvelous."
"Really? Perhaps you should whisk me there for our next date."
"Do you enjoy a good whisking?" she asked, pulling away to give him a mischevious smile.
"As long as you aren't too rough. I'm a delicate boy."
She slowly looked him up and down, then arched one skeptical brow before turning to the stage as the first notes of music rang out.