mightbewriting mightbewriting

“Harry,” Hermione began, voice very controlled, but she could feel the blade of panic slicing at her vocal cords. “Why was Draco Malfoy just screaming bloody murder about his,” and the word almost strangled her as she said it, “wife?” Harry's green eyes blew wide. Healer Lucas pinched the bridge of her nose, painfully displeased with the recent series of events. “He was referring to you, my dear,” she said. “That was the other question you got wrong. Your name is Hermione Jean Granger-Malfoy.” Hermione had to be sedated again. [In which Hermione loses the last six year's worth of her memories, including the entirety of her relationship and marriage to Draco.] Fandom: Harry Potter Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley Rating: Mature Wordcount: 94,946 Post Hogwarts, EWE Tags: memory loss, romance, slow burn, draco is trying so hard, hermione is so confused, harry is so harry, ginny is so tired because toddlers, ron is very uncomfortable, lavender is there, pansy goes nuclear, theo is trawling for a boyfriend, blaise just wants to have a drink

“Again,” she breathes. It’s barely a word, barely a whisper, barely a command. But it’s one I’m happy to follow. She doesn’t want to hear a stranger reciting Shakespeare’s Sonnets. She wants verses— biting, passionate ones—and she wants them from me. It’s laughable when I think about it. But I’m not laughing, and neither is she. It’s hard to, when her eyes darken and her breath catches and lust cracks like a lightning strike through every nerve in my body. Rated: Explicit

He glanced at the dark corner of the lab, a type of breathing blackness that moved even when it didn’t, the very air and space and void of the darkness slowly expanding and contracting as the thing within it watched him. Theo flicked his wand, sending a key soaring toward the dark corner, clattering against the stone wall he could not see. Another flick, another careening key. Over and over and over again until one key going remained on the bench. “A point for going, today,” Theo mused. Without a care to the hour, and only modest curiosity about his destination, Theo picked up the key and activated it, hurtling himself somewhere, anywhere, but there. [In which Theo's home is a terrifying place to reckon with a decade of denial. A Theo POV companion to Wait and Hope.]

“Pansy, we aren’t getting married.” He liked using her name. Kept saying it like he was cultivating it, nurturing it, tending to it like one of his plants. She could hardly help it though, being named after a flower. Nor could she help that she was on her way to being a little bit drunk with an equally tipsy Neville Longbottom. “You keep saying that, Longbottom. But I’m owling my mother as soon as we’re back at the school, and telling her to send an interest request. It makes perfect sense.” [In which Pansy's in the market for a husband.]

Draco clenched his teeth, forcing sharp, shallow breaths through his nose as he ripped open the door to his usual lecture hall only to find—someone at his desk. Well, he supposed it was technically less his desk and more the desk as he didn’t actually own this particular classroom. But since he’d taught in it for the last four semesters he at least felt like he’d earned a sort of common law ownership. The woman—presently possessed by what looked like a semi-sentient mass of curls atop her head—looked up, eyes widening before she graced the space between them with a kind smile that could cut through any density of grit or dust or grime. The sort of simple smile that could pulverize rocks: be them buried in the earth or caged behind ribs. He stared at her, belatedly and painfully aware that his mouth had curled into a sneer mostly without his consent.

Torture smells like spring. Like daffodils and tulips and snowdrops. Like the bouquets brought inside from the manor gardens to lend their life to cold stone walls that house criminals. Easter mixed with madness makes sense in this twisted landscape; Draco’s only chance at survival is to endure it. He knows this. But that doesn’t quell the twitching in his calves, the flexing in his fingers. Granger lifts her hand off the floor and Draco nearly loses his lunch, stomach churning as he watches her extend her arm, reaching through the translucent cord, reaching towards him. He tries to blink it away, blink blink blink, but both she and the cord are stubborn, persistent things. [In which a soulmate bond appears while Hermione is tortured at Malfoy Manor. Canon divergent from that moment onward.]

Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy -------------------------------------------------- “What do you mean you didn’t get me a ticket?” Ron’s hand flew to the back of his neck, massaging a red splotch just above his collar, flushing out his freckles. “I mean, I—well it’s not like you enjoy Quidditch all that much.” “I went to every match you or Harry played in at school.” “Quidditch is my hobby, not yours.” [In which Hermione dumps a Quidditch fan and dates a Quidditch player instead. Spite is a beautiful motivator.] Words: WIP

A collection of stories involving the infamous green and/or red tufted velvet sofa from Wait and Hope. With such an illustrious history, you can expect laughter, tears, sex, and several significant in between scenes from the stories you already know. Tags, characters, and warnings will be updated as more scenes are added.

Years. Broken into months into weeks into days - into hours, minutes, seconds - into moments. Simple at one end, complex at the other. In Draco's experience, moments, even when simple had a habit of becoming irretrievable. Moments grew, stretched, multiplied into ages and eras that defined whole stretches of measurable time. Draco regretted several moments in his life, some within his control, some without: all of them irretrievable in nature. At a certain point, wedged between 'what-ifs' of his own devising, he'd stopped trying to keep track of those regrettable moments: now and then, pushing and pulling, coming and going, beginning and end. Moments were only moments for just as long. After that, he had no control. A Draco POV prequel to Wait and Hope.