MrsSafwan



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    "An off book assignment to a middle-of-nowhere muggle village where we are forced to stay overnight at an inn with only one bed…" Draco raised a brow. "It's highly suspicious.”

    Her eyes flashed. “And just what exactly are you implying?”

    "I’m implying that I have read this book before, Granger.”

    Her lips twitched but she denied him her full smile. “I see. Well then please enlighten me, what happens next?”

    “Oh it’s terrible,” he tsked. “If the tropes are to be believed, we are all but doomed by forced proximity.”
     
    OR

    A hilariously self-aware "Only one bed at the inn" Dramione Minific

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    17 Jul 2026

  2. Public Bookmark 44

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    You might've heard the tales of Hermione Granger's extraordinary sidekick. The one who, against all odds, persevered even in the most harrowing of circumstances. Orphaned early and left alone to fend for himself, none would've been surprised had he fallen victim to his apparent destiny.

    But destiny matters little when you have the heart of a kneazle and the mind of a cat.

    This is the story of Crookshanks.

    -OR-

    A look into Hermione's life after the war, as told by Crookshanks.

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    13 Jul 2026

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    He knows she sees it then, by the way her eyes flare, fixing on the glint of silver.

    Pansy had tsked when she’d first seen it, a pejorative “Good lord, Draco” coupled with a bemused, “Merlin, has your mother seen this?” (No, she hasn’t—because the Manor allows for fucking glamours.)

    Granger doesn’t tsk or chastise. She stares for a moment then laughs, soft and disbelieving. “Sorry, was that…is your tongue pierced?”

    He hums an affirmative, then clicks the barbell against the back of his teeth. “It is indeed.”

    ---

    Or, Draco has a pierced tongue and knows how to use it

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    12 Jul 2026

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    “Want a dry top?” Ron offers.

    “Maybe.” Draco frowns down at himself, looking nonplussed. “Lord, what do you put in her bathwater? This is persistent.”

    As is the growing ache between Hermione’s legs.

    Seeing him like this, vaguely frustrated and glistening and goosebumpy, has done a number on her libido. He looks a bit pathetic, like a cat left out in a rainstorm. She wants to cluck her tongue soothingly and strip him of his wet things and tuck them both up into a blanket by the hearth. Wants to towel him dry and rub her hands over him until he’s all warm and flushed and hard—

    “For god’s sake,” Pansy huffs.

    ---

    Or when Draco gets spelled perma-wet by his goddaughter and Hermione sees him in a whole new light.

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    12 Jul 2026

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    His hair flashes from orange to a pale lilac before settling into neon lime.

    She gasps. “Oh. It changes?”

    At his grim expression—and subsequent shift into mustardy yellow—it all comes crashing into place. Somehow, his hair is transmitting his emotion visually; chromatically.

    ---

    Or, Hermione responds to a Christmastime creature-related incident.

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    12 Jul 2026