"Would you die for me?" The easy option would be, to answer him. Tell him the truth. The truth that will bring music to his ears. But surely he knows her better than. Pulling away, she creates greater distance between them, allowing his touch to leave her lips. She cocks her head to the side, a smirk carving its way onto her lips "But would you die for me?" ~~~~~~~ when Hermione's life is surrounded by a man with platinum blond hair and a sinister attitude; hidden desires unfold along with bruised wounds, that she wishes were remain sealed. EXTREME ADULT CONTENT!! WARNING 18+ only!!! dark dramione AU | mafia/gangAU | no wizarding world | explicit content | drug use | slytherin ensemble | violence | blood and torture | lots of kinks | toxic dramione |

- dramione -ongoing -mature content - contains themes that aren't permissible in non-fiction - OOC sh*t. Paradox par·a·dox /ˈperəˌdäks/ a situation, person, or thing that combines contradictory features or qualities. When the devil and an angel make too much sense. A story of a demon looking for solace, and an angel looking for chaos. A story of utter redemption, healing, sexual awakening, and paradoxical curses that blanket darkness to the first light Draco Malfoy has seen in years.

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

the boy scratched at the skin on his wrist so hard it bled. he'd been doing it all summer. so much so that the skin on his left arm was nothing but scabs and irritated skin. it itched. it constantly fucking itched and it hurt. but the subtle pain was a decent daily distraction from his mind. and harry liked that. there's only so much dark magic a person can suffer before it leaves a mark. harry potter 8th year fanfic WARNING: 18+

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.