Two dead. Three missing. The Order is down a leader and another innocent takes the Mark. Where is the Chosen One, and who killed Draco Malfoy? Dramione, sequel to "Clean," book II in "This World or Any Other" series. HEA. COMPLETE. [Cross-posting of all stories currently in progress from FFN and AO3.]

Malfoy's handsome face was contoured into a condescending smirk. "No faith in that giant brain of yours, Granger?" She looked up at him defiantly. "Maybe I don't have any faith in you!" she said, raising her voice. Malfoy only looked at her. You'll find I'm very surprising. Dramione AU, canon divergence, year 6 with a slow burn and a killer twist. Book I of "This World or Any Other" Series. COMPLETE. [Cross-posting of all stories currently in progress from FFN and AO3.]

Dramione story

The Slytherin Clique's teens are just as ruthless. Just as close. Just as. But what happens when things soon start to unravel? [Post-War Children] + INTENDED FOR MATURE AUDIENCES + SPIN-OFF TO Filthy ; Draco Malfoy NOT a Draco Malfoy Fanfic

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]

The War is won, and Hermione Granger is back at Hogwarts as an Eighth Year, feeling reckless and determined to shed her prim bookworm persona. Also returning is Draco Malfoy, universally hated but determined to restore his family's name. Hermione's hopes for a quiet school year are quickly dashed as she contends with mischievous First Years, killer plants, enchanted hair accessories, a totally inappropriate Moaning Myrtle, renegade Death Eaters, a nice vampire, a poorly named study group, a depraved party, and mysterious, threatening blood messages on the castle walls. We have redemption, partial redemption and (sadly or hilariously) no redemption at all. Throw in a snarky, disturbingly attractive Draco with his own secret agenda, and we have a very slow-burn Dramione with a side of who-dun-it. COMPLETE!

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

- 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.

my dearest darling love,

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.