Draco Malfoy really hates Hermione Granger. Everything he gives two fucks about is entirely contingent on the decisions that she makes and she doesn't even know it. If he's not careful, she's going to fuck it up for the both of them and then they'll all wind up dead. He never thought his life would depend on having to get between her legs and into her head. _____________________________________________ "I should have known," he said, "It's always the good girls who like it rough. Do you like it rough, Granger? Be honest," he purred into her ear, his left hand rising to wrap itself around her throat as he continued to press his right hand up against her, "I really don't like liars." con•tin•gent: subject to chance; dependent on [all rights go to jkr yuck] [not appropriate for audiences under the age of 18]

In the wake of the Dark Lord's triumph over Harry Potter, the defeated must learn their new place. Hermione Granger, former Golden Girl, has been captured and reduced to human chattel. Sold to the highest bidder as the top prize at an auction of Order members and sympathizers, she is thrust into the rabid, waiting hands of the Death Eaters. But despite the horrors of Voldemort's new world, help-and hope-seem to arise from the most unlikely of places. PART 3 of the RIGHTS AND WRONGS series. THIS STORY IS BY Lovesbitca8 ON AO3!! I DO NOT TAKE CREDIT FOR HER WORK WHATSOEVER!! - #83 on ao3 - 9|17|21 #31 on ao3 - 9|29|21 #33 on ao3 - 10|2|21 #445 on dramione - 10|6|21 #7 on ao3 - 5|14|22 #73 on wattpad - 7|31|23

Hermione felt the pounding in her ears again. She would see him for the first time since the Great Hall, gaunt and stricken at the Slytherin table with his mother clutching his arm. She hadn't meant to look for him. Not in the corridors, not beneath the white sheets of the fallen, not on the way to the Chamber of Secrets with Ron, but she was a stupid girl.

Her gaze is encouraging, and Draco can do nothing but linger on the precipice of terrible want with remarkable self-restraint. She's right here; solid and real and welcoming. Slipping through his undeserving fingers. Is he allowed a trauma timeline? He has no idea when it's appropriate for him to reach suffering's endpoint and move on. He's a thestral with a beating wounded wing, still desperate to fly for her, to her.

It began as a way for Hermione to remember her parents, to honour a part of her childhood. But now every Christmas season, Draco Malfoy finds a way into her holiday tradition of attending a performance of The Nutcracker. Written for D/Hr Advent 2020.

Hermione hadn't meant for this to become the focus of her evening. She had plenty of other, more professional, more productive things toward which she should direct her focus. Glasses. And an open collar. No, not those things. Hermione sipped her drink and tried to set her mind to rights. She needed to plan her conversations with donors tonight. She needed to concentrate on networking and pitching her latest ideas. She needed to stop ogling Draco Malfoy. For mightbewriting's birthday.

How did it feel? It felt like he was barely holding it together. She, of all people, should shun him. Or yell at him. Curse him. Spit at him. Take out her wand and blast him off the face of the earth. It was crushing guilt and relief and confusion all at once when he looked at Hermione Granger. The monotony of Draco's daily routine had become both a lifeline and a noose. But this new habit of grabbing morning coffee with Hermione Granger is quickly becoming a reason to get out of bed and is unfortunately forcing him to re-evaluate his inconsequential existence. Hermione is living her life in fragments, separate pieces scattered about, and she can't find a way to step back and let the full picture form. Why is morning coffee with Draco Malfoy the only thing that makes sense anymore? *cover art created by @eternallyreadinggoodthings