TW: violence, death, a sprinkle of misogyny ?
Draco Malfoy had been bred in the lap of privilege. As sole heir to the Malfoy name, he had grown accustomed to having whatever he desired placed neatly within his grasp.
/“For you, I would blacken my soul gladly.”/
Those words clung to Hermione’s thoughts more fiercely than the promise of any law or lineage. Even more than the whispered notion of a child.
Lady Malfoy took a cruel delight in summoning her for the most intimate of tasks—chiefly, preparing her for bed before Lord Malfoy’s arrival.
Each evening became a theatre of malice.
TW: violence, death, a sprinkle of misogyny ?
Draco Malfoy had been bred in the lap of privilege. As sole heir to the Malfoy name, he had grown accustomed to having whatever he desired placed neatly within his grasp.
/“For you, I would blacken my soul gladly.”/
Those words clung to Hermione’s thoughts more fiercely than the promise of any law or lineage. Even more than the whispered notion of a child.
Lady Malfoy took a cruel delight in summoning her for the most intimate of tasks—chiefly, preparing her for bed before Lord Malfoy’s arrival.
Each evening became a theatre of malice.
The ceremony was, by all accounts, beautiful—at least from the corner allotted to servants, where Hermione stood half-shadowed beneath the tapestried arches of the great hall.
/“For you, I would blacken my soul gladly.”/
Those words clung to Hermione’s thoughts more fiercely than the promise of any law or lineage. Even more than the whispered notion of a child.
Lady Malfoy took a cruel delight in summoning her for the most intimate of tasks—chiefly, preparing her for bed before Lord Malfoy’s arrival.
Each evening became a theatre of malice.
The ceremony was, by all accounts, beautiful—at least from the corner allotted to servants, where Hermione stood half-shadowed beneath the tapestried arches of the great hall.
The wedding approached swiftly, and Hermione was summoned to attend upon the bride-to-be. It was foolish, she knew, to harbour sorrow—let alone envy. She had no right. She had been a fool to consort with a man promised to another.
Lady Malfoy took a cruel delight in summoning her for the most intimate of tasks—chiefly, preparing her for bed before Lord Malfoy’s arrival.
Each evening became a theatre of malice.
Shortly after this he disappears into the muggle world of gangs & crime without a cent to his name.
(Sry for the angst🥺)
archiveofourown.org/works/58412356
#dramione #draco
Shortly after this he disappears into the muggle world of gangs & crime without a cent to his name.
(Sry for the angst🥺)
archiveofourown.org/works/58412356
#dramione #draco
Co-Workers/Forced Proximity Trope reigns supreme!
I love when they roast each other in a professional setting. I want them to hate each other due to own prejudice and biases!
Give me all the recs! :D
#dramione
Co-Workers/Forced Proximity Trope reigns supreme!
I love when they roast each other in a professional setting. I want them to hate each other due to own prejudice and biases!
Give me all the recs! :D
#dramione
“Worthless…ungrateful…brat,” Lucius grumbles to himself. His son’s bed creaks beneath him as he snaps his hips. He grabs Astoria’s leg, extending it up, and places her ankle on his shoulder. As he sinks back into her, he groans.