Re-sorting

by perfectlyimperfect1569

Summary:

After the war, the eldest class of Hogwarts returns to the castle to finish their final year of school. To promote class unity, the re-sorting hat will delve into the minds of each individual and pair them up with a classmate with similar interests, motivations, etc.

When the hat shows Hermione Granger the image of her childhood bully, pointy nose and smug grin, she scoffs at the idea of having ANYTHING in common with him.

OR

Hermione and Draco have the same sexual preferences and are forced together by a dusty old hat.

Notes:

Ever since I read Deep End by Ali Hazelwood, this concept has been PLAGUING my mind and I finally decided to start writing it today! Completely inspired by the QUEEN Ms. Hazelwood, I wanted to watch Dramione take on this trope. I love a dom/sub relationship and I thought I could fit it into their world in a different way.

In summary, this is a smut-driven fic that will probably end up being converted into a separate set of oneshots as I write their steamy scenes. Updates will be hopefully frequent, as this first chapter is just setting up their world. Suggestions are welcome! Prompts will be encouraged later in the fic!

Chapter 1: One: Hermione

The students of Hogwarts had been through more than anyone could imagine, Hermione Granger in particular. A wizarding war that if gone the other way, would have very likely resulted in her own death. Being confronted by creatures of all kinds, some friendly, she thought of Dobby with reverence and a faint tinge of grief. Not all of them left her unscathed though. A burn flashed through her left forearm at the memory. 

 

She rubbed it through her jumper, knowing the scar laid underneath. She remembered the way it looked as it happened. Flesh torn away like a boat cuts through water. Her skin did not yield, instead it fell apart to form a word the world chose to define her by. She didn’t remember screaming, though Ron says she did, loudly and for hours and hours until passing out. 

 

These thoughts were the ones she had just before walking through the middle of the Great Hall and unceremoniously taking a seat in a throne-like chair. She looked around the empty hall, a stark contrast to her first day in the castle.

 

She was excited then. Looking into the eyes of fellow classmates, wondering which table she’d be joining. The hall boomed with cheers after each student sat atop the same throne. 

 

This was… different. On their first day their former Professor McGonagall was announced to be the new Headmaster and she spoke to the intention of the re-sorting hat. 

 

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“This year, over the course of 3 days, each student will be assigned a time to enter the great hall and wear the re-sorting hat. The hat will not choose a new house for you but instead pair you up with someone from a different house than your current one.”

 

The groans heard throughout the room were evident. McGonagall shook her head and continued.

 

“You will be paired up with your chosen partner for the entirety of the year. You will share schedules, work together in labs, and be assigned to the same dorm hall.”

 

Murmurs began about shared rooms, whistles spiraling through the air until they were silenced by the abrupt –“INDIVIDUAL rooms are something I think you will all come to enjoy as they have been newly renovated and are password protected,” McGonagall continued.

 

The students quieted down. Hermione stood in front of Ron and Harry, just barely catching Ron’s “Oi, I hope I get paired up with a bird from Hufflepuff, could use the easy tail. Plus I heard they’re freaky”

 

Hermione gave him a ‘seriously?’ glare over her shoulder as McGonagall continued. The only thing Ron would know about freaky’is likely when he dressed up as Batman for Halloween and asked Hermione to explore his “Robinhood”. Safe to say they were not compatible in any romantic or sexual manner and that notion sweeping the Prophet was finally given up on.

 

“Over the course of the next few hours, you will all enter the Great Hall and don the re-sorting hat. The hat will examine your most sincere desires so that it is able to pair you with a like-minded individual. Once your pairs are set, there is no changing them. All pairs will be reciprocal. Your assigned time will be posted in your room by the end of the day.”

 

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Sitting down, the gold of the chair caressed her palms, smooth and even. She knew the hat would descend upon her soon and stared straight at the giant doors framing the end of the hall. She felt the brush of fabric on her forehead, a mix between worn leather and felt. Then came the weight of it, heavier than she expected, heavier than the hat that engulfed her years ago.

 

A voice did not emerge. The hat was not the same. It did not consider her in all facets and spit out a clear “GRYFFINDOR”. Instead it made all the ends of her hair perk up. The follicles standing to attention. This was evidenced on her arms and legs and the chill that went through her spine.  

 

She shook the feeling away, but upon opening her eyes only saw one image. 

 

Draco Malfoy.

Notes:

All characters are from JKR and I absolutely do NOT support her or her ideals. I support the FF community, and the readers and writers of the world looking to make a difference instead of hindering us from growing as a society.

Finally I want to emphasize again giving credit to Ali for the concept, as most of this was directly inspired by her work and the relationship her FMC and MMC had.

See you all soon!

Chapter 2: Two: Hermione

Summary:

Hermione deals with the realization that her and Draco Malfoy are partnered for the year. Draco Malfoy has his appointment with the sorting hat, chaos ensues.

Still reeling from what she’d been confronted with in the Great Hall, Hermione sat in her newly polished room and tried to clear her mind by doing a bit of unpacking.

 

She folded her clothes the muggle way, the way her mom folded them before sending her here 8 years ago. She missed them, her parents. They were lost in the carnage of the war. She sent them away and thought they’d be safe. Turns out they were in danger regardless. Death Eaters had put tracking spells on them to use as bait later in the war. By the time the war ended, orders had already been given to Avada them, Death Eaters waiting in Australia to complete the task.

 

She wondered if Malfoy knew. If he knew all along they had them. That they would be the thing to make her surrender. She’d thought about it. If faced with the decision she didn’t know what she’d have done. She thinks she would’ve burnt the world down for them. She didn’t get the chance to, but maybe that’s a good thing.

 

Her thoughts drifted back to Malfoy, the image of him produced by the re-sorting hat, or was it produced by her own mind? She didn’t know how it worked and was scared to examine the process – considering what the results were.

 

The results again flashed across the inside of her eyelids. It was a Malfoy she didn’t necessarily recognize. He looked angry in some way or deranged. His eyes were black like obsidian, pupils dilated and roaming. She could see the tension in his neck muscles, the clench of his jaw, a deep inhale made his lips part just barely.

 

That was the whole of the glimpse. Just a few seconds of time. The image disappeared into thousands of tiny pixels and scattered throughout the hall. They dissolved into the marble floor which returned to its sleek, reflective nature. She tried to look for the pieces on the floor as she made her way off the chair and towards the door. She thought she saw a glimmer of obsidian hiding in the shadows as the door groaned shut behind her.

 

That glimpse might haunt her for the rest of her life, she thought. Or at least the rest of the damn year. Now why in the hell would the hat choose Draco Malfoy of all people to pair her up with.

 

The skeptic in her thought maybe the prick had tampered with the hat, done something to make it spit out his image, programmed it to show only him for every student. Ha ha everyone gets Draco Malfoy it’s one big joke and her real partner is assigned tomorrow. 

 

The realist in her though, knew that she only got one partner, and it was Draco Malfoy.

 

Okay so she didn’t just accept that they were paired up. She ran straight to the Headmaster’s Office, mumbled the password given to all Head girls “Daffodil”, and dramatically swung the door open.

 

After arguing with McGonagall for 15 minutes about how she absolutely would not work closely with Draco Malfoy and McGonagall continuing to tell her that the hat makes its decision in a very ‘informed’ way. Whatever the hell that meant.

 

When Hermione suggested that maybe the hat was informed by Malfoy himself the sneaky bastard, McGonagall assured her that there had been no tampering with the hat and in fact, Mr. Malfoy had not yet even been assigned his partner (her) therefore he hasn’t even been in the same room as the re-sorting hat.

 

The thought baffled Hermione.

 

He doesn’t even know they’re partnered yet. What will he think, or say, or do? He will be outraged, surely. A reformed Death Eater is still a Death Eater nonetheless. He will be disgusted. Matter of fact, he could walk into this office at any point with the same cadence as Hermione, she thought.

 

She left shortly after that, and returned to her present state. Still creasing, rolling, and organizing the fabrics from her suitcase neatly into her dresser drawers.

 

McGonagall’s final declaration echoed through her head.

 

“Though you might not know yet why you were partnered with Mr. Malfoy, I assure you there is a reason. I suggest you focus more on discovering what you have in common rather than dwelling on your differences.”

 

In common? With Malfoy? Not two words she would put together. 

 

She had seen him since the final battle. First being led into a courtroom in chains, then in the Daily Prophet after being cleared of all charges. She was of course asked to testify to the events that transpired within the Malfoy Manor. She told the truth, that he had not participated, merely stood silently. Looking towards his mother as her arm gripped his shoulder with great force.

 

She wondered if he had regret though. For standing there. Watching as she bled half of her body weight onto the wood floor. She imagined the blood seeping through the cracks, thought it might still be there, scrubbed over by their house elves but still remaining.

 

She selected her room password after she finished unpacking, opting for ‘Crookshanks’ as the key. Her furry friend sat in the corner of her room, licking his paws proudly on top of her suitcase. She’d have to scourigify the fur off of it later. 

 

She looked around at the rest of the room, small but tidy. A four-poster bed, dresser, and desk all made from what looked like a redwood tree. Complimentary to her house colors and her white sheets which were evenly tucked in. A photo of her parents sat on the dresser and glowed with action. Her father brushed a lock of hair behind her mother’s ear. They smiled at each other, then the camera. 

 

Hermione was interrupted from her observations when pounding at her door began. A loud and unrelenting fist met the wood. “Open up,” sounded from outside. It was more of a growl than a statement, but she recognized the voice as Malfoy’s. 

 

“Why should I?”

 

“I need to see you.”

 

He said it in a calmer tone. Almost pleading. She stood silent for about a minute, taken aback.

 

The pounding continued. 

 

Thud. Thud. Thud.

 

The door was creaking from its effort to stand tall and though spelled shut Hermione swore it would crack under the pressure. That’s the only reason she opened the door. Not because she heard his urgency, his plea.

 

“What do you want, Malfoy?” Hermione uttered with as much annoyance as she could muster.

 

But when she met his eyes, she saw that same look. The obsidian stone reflecting back at her, drawing her gaze, devouring her. 

 

He took a deep inhale, just like in the image, lips parting ever so slightly.

 

And then he blinked.

 

And it vanished. 

 

The look, the obsidian, the hunger. He blinked and then took a step back, out of the door frame. He almost stumbled but caught himself against the wall, and pointed to the doorframe behind him.

 

“Sorry, I just. I –”

 

He walked backwards until he was shielded by the doorframe of what she presumed was his own room. He took one more step back and shut the door, watching her clumsily throughout.

 

 

Notes:

Like I said I am writing and uploading this as it comes to me in bursts. I love these characters and want to do my best to take care of them and build them in a way that is complex, real, and truthful. Though it will be a lot of smut I want to make sure the relationship makes sense, so bear with me as we set that up.

Chapter 3: Three: Draco

Summary:

Okay so I wasn't sure if this was going to be a Dual POV fic BUTTTTT as I have been writing I realized I need to get into Draco's mind and world as much as Hermione to make the relationship make sense.

Also I love writing a man that's both desperate for and sick over a woman. (Boys can we do this in reality plz?)

SOOOOOO here is Draco's POV including what he sees during his appointment with the re-sorting hat :)))) I think you guys are going to like this one 🤤

ENJOY!

 

When Draco heard McGonagall go on about this whole ‘re-sorting’ business, he shrugged it off thinking he’d be paired with some Ravenclaw bird who’d ignore him completely or a Hufflepuff bloke who couldn’t keep down a shot of firewhiskey.

 

He was spared from both of those.

 

Unfortunately though, what plagued him now was much more difficult. 

 

After his trial, Draco had kept to himself. He spent the last year with his mother in Italy. She was held in Azkaban until proven innocent with the help of Draco’s memories, and moved into their estate in Venice. 

 

That year was relatively blissful. Silence after so much carnage is like water in a drought. He spent his days tending to the gardens, preferring to work with the earth and seeds. Something with no magic to back it, just blind faith and the right amount of care.

 

He had tea with his mother every night around dusk, sitting on the patio and chatting about this and that. 

 

They didn’t talk much about Draco's father. They let his name be forgotten into time, rather than examining the damages he’d inflicted on them over the years. They let him rot in Azkaban. They finally let him carry the weight of the battle that was only ever his.

 

Draco let the days pass, let the sun graze his skin and the dirt wedge under his fingernails. 

 

One afternoon tea his mother fidgeted with her pocket until she produced a letter. It was addressed to him. 

 

Draco figured it was more of the nasty threats he’d been getting since the war, silently kicking himself for not intercepting the mail before his mother read it.

 

He’d received a number of letters. All wishing death upon him, his family. Calling him scum, purist, disgusting. 

 

He had a hard time not believing them. Though his mind healer helped him understand why the letters made him question himself, he couldn’t kick the feeling that they were right.

 

He took the letter from her and said “I’m sorry you had to read that mother, people can be… brutal.”

 

“Draco what do you mean? Just read it.”

 

When he flipped it over it was a letter from Hogwarts, the same stamp he looked at when he was just a boy. Untainted by the world and its expectations, its necessities for survival.

 

When the letter revealed the following information he began to shake his head ‘no’.

 

Dear Mr. Draco Malfoy,

 

You are invited to join the Hogwarts class as they return for their 8th and final year.

 

He stopped reading and put the letter down, still shaking his head in disbelief.

 

“I’m not going back there mother. I can’t. Not after everything.”

 

Narcissa reached across the space and rested her hand on top of his. 

 

“Think about it Draco, it might be healing,” she said softly.

 

He looked down at the rug beneath them, traced the diamond patterns with his eyes, avoided his mother until she gave his hand a light squeeze, and silently shut the screen door..

 

Weeks later he took her advice and thought about it. He talked to his mind healer who ‘strongly recommended’ that he return to school and finish his last year. When his mother learned this, she began packing for him. He was going. Doctor’s orders.

 

When Draco reminded her it was merely a suggestion Narcissa put her foot down.

 

That is how Draco ended up sitting atop a chair in the middle of the Great Hall staring at an image of Hermione Granger half naked, and wishing he were dead. 

 

Well, half wishing he were dead, half wishing he were in front of her for real. Now.

 

As soon as he sat down, he noticed the dusty hat hanging above him, ready to choose his fate. He hoped for a better one this time around. He wished for it silently. For absolution. For forgiveness. 

 

The hat fell on his head heavily, like it was pulling him in rather than resting atop him. 

 

It was strange. Draco could almost feel the hat moving through his mind. Not in an intrusive way. Not how he was used to being tortured on his hands and knees constantly. Memories pulled from his father, Voldemort, his aunt. They all ‘checked up’ on the progress of his task. They forced their ways into his mind and targeted his weaknesses. 

 

But no, the hat moved slower. Less like a snake and more like water. It flowed over the entirety of his brain, not just certain parts. It wove itself through every part of him. 

 

Draco didn’t realize that he had closed his eyes, reveling in the feeling of being seen fully, for maybe the first time ever. Was that what he yearned for? Is that what this partnership could do?

 

He’d believed some wacky shit in his life, but that might be the craziest one yet. Especially when he opened his eyes and saw Granger. Hermione Granger.

 

The first image was just her face, light framing it like she was standing right in front of the sun. Her curls were mostly crisp, a few stray hairs poking at odd ends. Her cheeks were flushed and eyes glazed over. 

 

Before Draco could process what it meant, the image zoomed out, and at the end of the Great Hall was Hermione Granger laying on a bed in her bra and knickers. 

 

It was almost like he had an aerial view of her. 

 

He was fucking spellbound.

 

That had to be the reason he continued to stare at the image.

 

He moved his eyes down from her toes up her long slender calves to her round plushy thighs. His fingers itched to grab the skin, indent it. Her underwear were plain white cotton. Classic Granger, he thought, ever modest. 

 

But the look on her face wasn’t modest. No it was..

 

Inviting.

 

Insatiable.

 

A small part of him knew then he would have to see her like this, to have her.

 

But it was Granger . 

 

She couldn’t imagine the things he’d want. The things he’d already started thinking about with her in mind.

 

Licking her until she begged him to stop, then fucking her senseless. Having her warm his cock while studying, making her answer questions, rewarding her. Shutting her up with his cock, making her cry from it. He’d like to see her cry. And beg. And whine.

 

As his thoughts devolved it was like the hat atop his head sensed it. It conjured the images he created in real time. He saw himself.

 

He saw his mouth deep in Granger’s cunt with her arms and legs tied to all four bedposts.

 

He saw the tremble of her body as he denied her orgasm after orgasm.

 

He saw it all.

 

He gripped the gold handrails of the chair tightly as the images continued to assault him. He wished the edges were jagged so he could force the sharpness into his palm to end the madness.

 

Seeing without experiencing. Without hearing or feeling. It was meaningless. He shut his eyes tight and kept them like that for some time. His cock strained through his trousers, twitching violently when he remembered an image.

 

His eyes remained glued shut until fifteen minutes later when Headmaster McGonagall tapped him on his shoulder. He peeked through his lashes and upon recognizing her, straightened into a more professional position.

 

His erection was fading fast, especially with a woman who had seen him eat his own boogers standing in front of him.

 

It was in first year, fuck off, he thought.

 

“Mr. Malfoy I’m afraid I must ask you to leave, you’ve surpassed the allotted time for your re-sorting by quite some time”

 

Embarrassed, Draco stood up quickly, pardoning himself for the error.

 

“Do see that you speak to Ms. Granger. I believe she seems to be skeptical about the integrity of the re-sorting hat. I think we both know there have been no errors made.”

 

Draco nodded his head, muttered a “Yes, Headmaster” before closing the doors to the Great Hall and bolting down the corridor.

 

He made it halfway back to the Slytherin common room when he remembered the castle had been renovated. His assigned room was on the other side of the building. And most likely directly across from Hermione Granger. 

 

Just the thought of her name conjured the image of her in his mind. Without thinking, he turned the opposite direction and started running.

 

 

Notes:

Thanks for following along!

In terms of organization, I'm not really sure how I'll structure the POV's. It won't be any kind of pattern I will probably just change as it makes sense in terms of the storyline (which I have no idea where it's going)!

Doing this makes me so happy and I hope it makes you happy too! Now that we are all set up I can't wait to dive in more!

Chapter 4: Four: Hermione

Summary:

Now we begin to see our pairings! I'm not sure how in depth we will go into them, but there's always an opportunity for creativity.

I know these chapters are short, and that's how I like to write them. I hope you'll all bear with me as we find our groove.

Enjoy!

Hermione was usually excited for the first day of classes. Getting her schedule, planning out her days, organizing her calendar.

 

But when the itinerary slipped under her door this morning, it read: ‘House Unity Day’ and Hermione’s stomach bubbled with the implications.

 

She read further:

 

9:00am ……………………………………………………..   Breakfast in the Great Hall

 

10:30am ……………………………………………………  Ice Breakers

 

12:00pm ……………………………………………………  Lunch on Campus Grounds

 

1:30pm ……………………………………………………..   Schedule Planning

 

3:00pm ……………………………………………………… Trust Exercises

 

5:00pm …………………………………………………….. Meet in the Great Hall

She debated feigning ill, looked in the mirror and decided she wouldn’t have to try very hard. The lack of sleep from the previous night worked well enough, bags dragging her eyes from their sockets.

 

She was curious though. The desperation in Malfoy’s look. It was… intriguing?

 

She hadn’t seen him since that article in the Prophet. Reliving his image in her doorframe was entirely different. It was dark then, past nightfall. His features were lit by the lamp glowing in her room, just barely. When her eyes adjusted though, she noticed the change.

 

He had grown bulkier, filled out. He was always tall but never so commanding, always snippy and roach-like. He was something else entirely now.

 

As she walked into the Great Hall and saw him lit up by the chandeliers she realized the word she was looking for was: magnificent.

 

‘I can be objective’ she thought.

 

She didn’t have to like the man to find him astonishingly attractive. He just was.

 

She didn’t think anyone could deny it.

 

“Bloody hell Malfoy looks like he could pick me up and fold me in half.”

 

Hermione’s ogling was interrupted by Ginny, dirty mind always at the ready. She’d never been afraid to speak her mind. Hermione opted for a more silent intrigue. 

 

She met Ginny’s comment with a laugh and shook her head. 

 

“Come on Hermione you have to admit he’s proper good looking,” Ginny continued.

 

Hermione thought there was no better time than now to tell her that

 

“He’s my assigned partner.”

 

Ginny’s mouth shut and eyes flared wide. Surprise colored her face. Then: her conclusion

 

“ You are going to have sex with Draco Malfoy. And I can’t wait to hear about it.”

 

She skipped off towards the Gryffindor table, leaving Hermione baffled, staring at their topic of conversation.

 

__________________________________________________________________________

 

Breakfast was complete and utter hell. All of Hermione’s friends went around the table guessing who they’d been paired up with.

 

 When Hermione told them they would absolutely never guess. In a million years. 

 

They continued to shout name after name: Millicent Bullstrode? Susan Bones? Terry Boot? 

 

“Oh don’t tell me it was that horrible crow Parkinson,” whined Ron

 

“Actually, Pansy and I are paired up together,” said Neville. 

 

All heads turned to look at him. Neville was unfazed. 

 

“I had a chat with her last night after we were paired, she’s not so bad. She’s kind of.. Lonely?”

 

He looked away as if searching for something. Hermione realized he was looking to meet her eyes. After he did, he continued:

 

 “I don’t know but we are paired together and there’s no way to change it so why complain?”

 

Hermione agreed. SIlently at first, then outwardly with a nod of her head, and finally verbally:

 

“I’m actually paired with Draco and this might come as a shock to you all but I am going to give the whole partnership thing a go.”

 

Hermione meant to encourage her friends. Most of them were very much not pleased with their pairings.

 

Harry with Theodore Nott. 

 

Ginny with Blaise Zabini.

 

Hermione with Malfoy.

 

Thrown to the snakes, she thought.

 

The only pair that Hermione knew would come easy was Ron and Luna, already friendly throughout schooling. He was smug about it too, laughing off the rest of the pairings, talking about how miserable they’d all be.

 

Hermione didn’t realize what she’d said until it was too late.

 

“Draco now, is it?”

 

Oh for fucks sake I was just about to give this a chance

 

Hermione turned towards the sound and faced him now. He had a smug grin on his face, his foot propped up on the bench she was resting on. He towered over her. She secretly marveled at that and turned back towards the table.

 

“We have plenty of time to spend together this year Malfoy, I’d prefer it if you didn’t interrupt the only time of day I am not plagued by your face.”

 

She turned back to him and raised her eyebrows.

 

“You couldn’t even begin to understand what plagues me,” he replied softly before turning to rejoin his fellow Slytherins.

 

Ginny nudged her under the table and turned to whisper in her ear “He is going to fuck you sideways”

 

Hermione’s thighs clenched. Ginny was putting things in her mind that did nothing to quell the worries of what the day would bring.

 

“Now why the hell would that thing put you two together,” Ron muttered.

 

“Maybe they’re compatible Ron. Ever thought of that? McGonagall did say the hat looks into your most genuine desires.”

 

Hermione mulled it over. Her genuine desires. 

 

To be head girl, she’d managed that.

 

To get O’s on all her exams, she’d make sure she managed that.

 

To stand up for what was right.

 

To care for other people.

 

To be cared for.

 

To be taken care of.

 

She crunched into her blueberry scone and found her eyes seeking out obsidian.

Chapter 5: Five: Hermione

Summary:

Time to get into our 'house unity' day and see how our two sexually charged lovebirds get along. It won't be long folks, hang in there.

 

 

10:30 was creeping slowly towards her as she walked out of the castle to the grounds. This was where the ‘ice breakers’ would take place. 

 

She understood the concept, really she did. And she loved getting to know new people. Loved learning about what motivates them, what drives them.

 

But she knew that Malfoy was not someone she’d be able to get to know. Knew it from the second he stood in front of her and asked the first question.

 

“So Granger, what is your favorite thing outside of school to do?”

 

But before she could answer,

 

“Study? Organize your calendar for next week? What is it?” he mocked.

 

She turned her back on him then, opting to stare back towards the castle. She followed the points and dips with her eyes, noticing the way the brass shined brighter than it used to, a result of the renovation perhaps.

 

She wasn't planning on speaking to him for the rest of the activity. Not if he’d use it to poke at her incessantly.

 

He walked around her so that he was back in her line of sight, but he didn’t look smug. His arm started to reach for her, she thought, but as fast as it started, it stopped.

 

“Granger, I realize that we are both stuck in an unfortunate situation. Can we just trudge along and do the silly exercises? I won’t be an arse again.”

 

He seemed resigned to the process, so Hermione nodded, mumbling an “Alright.”

 

__________________________________________________________________

 

They sat on the grounds, a picnic blanket transfigured from Malfoy’s tie, a trick Hermione picked up over the break. She thought she saw surprise cross his face and figured he’d be quite impressed. Wandless magic was a feat not many witches or wizards could manage.

 

It was still Spring, so the grounds were booming with florals of all kinds. She picked a small white flower from the ground beside her. It was dainty in her palm, the petals soft like silk on her skin.

 

“Convallaria majalis,” Malfoy offered.

 

She looked up with confusion.

 

“The scientific name. They represent purity, humility, and the return of happiness.”

 

She saw the sincerity in his eyes. She asked how he knew about the flower. He told her he’d recently taken up gardening.

 

“Now this I have to hear. Draco Malfoy on his hands and knees in the dirt?”

 

He raised his eyebrow and chuckled, “There are many things you’ll come to find you don't know about me.”

 

The student in her jumped. 

 

The cautious part of her brain reminding her this was Malfoy was muted for the time being.

 

She heard all about his garden at the house in Venice, his favorite flower being a Gardenia. She learned of his relationship with his mother, and saw the way he revered her when he spoke. She learned of his regret. Of his lack of agency. How he was forced into a position he never wanted in a war he didn’t believe in.

 

He apologized. Not all at once but throughout the conversation. As questions were asked and truths were revealed he’d remember something. Even something as insignificant as:

 

“I’m sorry I called your hair ratty. It’s actually quite nice.”

 

She took it for what it was, an apology, not a compliment. He continued to surprise her with his admittances:

 

“I was quite jealous of Potter in school.”

 

“I never wanted to hurt anyone.”

 

“I’ve seen a mind healer once a week since the war.”

 

“You looked lovely in your Yule gown, I never told you.”

 

“My mother is the strongest woman I know.”

 

“I was terrified every single day.”

 

She found herself wanting to reveal more, wanting to know more. Wanting him to know her the way he was teaching her about himself now. So she gave him honesty in tandem.

 

She told him about her parents, how their loss was the one that stayed with her daily. She mentioned how she worried about him in the last few years of school.

 

She didn’t talk about the drawing room. He didn’t either. It was a merciful exemption.

 

They talked for a while, well past the beginning of lunch hour. 

 

He asked her questions that caught her off guard.

 

“Did you ever lose hope in the cause?”

 

“Do you see those that were lost in your dreams? I do,” he admitted.

 

And then: “What did you see in the Great Hall, when the re-sorting hat was on your head?”

 

This question was asked not only with curiosity but with need. Hermione saw a speck of obsidian form in the grey of Draco’s eyes, and simply said:

 

“That.”

 

“What?”

 

“That look,” she began, “Like you want something.”

 

Draco exhaled the breath she didn’t realize he’d been holding. He tore his eyes from her face and stood from the grass.

 

 

 

 

Notes:

Also updates may be sporadic, as I am not on a regular schedule. If this catches on and people follow along, I might be convinced to make a schedule for new chapters. That's up to what you all think! so as always, let me know! Thanks for getting this far! Follow along on Tiktok for announcements! @perfectlyimperfect1596

Chapter 6: Six: Draco

Summary:

Draco visits Hermione, it doesn't go well. Draco sees Hermione in the Great Hall. It goes... better than expected? Sort of?

Notes:

Hi Hi! Thank you all so much for the love in the comments and if you're here from my Tiktok page, WELCOME! I'm so glad to start sharing more on social media and hoping you all love this world as much as I do. Thanks again, all my love. <3

 

 

 

He had to make sure it wasn’t real. She wasn’t real.

 

Not the Hermione Granger behind the door sounding irritated. He knew she was very much real and probably getting ready to tell him to fuck off, if he was lucky. If mercy existed.

 

No, he had to make sure that the curated version of her was fake. He was certain it was. It couldn’t be real. Lips parted, cheeks flushed. Looking like she wanted to be held down and fucked. He couldn’t deal with that version of her. That version of her would drive him to the brink of insanity.

 

He was pretty close, continuing to pound loudly against her doorframe. He’d already shouted at her to open the door, but that didn’t seem to get the result he desired. Concealing his desire as much as he could, he opted for a more sincere tone.

 

“I need to see you,” Draco croaked out, sounding more desperate than he hoped.

 

She opened the door to be lighted by the glow of her yellowish lamp. He couldn’t see much behind her but didn’t need to. Didn’t want to. His eyes consumed hers like they were singular drops of water in the desert. He stared intently, hoping to prove his theory right.

 

She was dressed in a shirt that practically swallowed her, five sizes too big if he were to estimate. Her feet were bare, as were her legs. Mostly covered by the shirt, he couldn’t tell if she was wearing shorts or not. He didn’t know why the thought crossed his mind at all.

 

When Granger asked what he wanted from her, his observations were cut short. He recognized her annoyed tone and realized he was right. She most likely dreaded the pairing and was searching for a way out of it. That’s how she felt. How he should be feeling right now.

 

He stumbled back from her doorframe awkwardly and shut his own, mumbling a nonsense excuse half-hazardly.

 

When he closed the door, his pants were still tight. From her curation, not reality.

 

He tried to shower his erection away, the cold water only made his follicles react. His brain was still set on Granger, as was the erection that begged for her touch. 

 

He turned the water to scalding and took pity on himself. He closed his eyes and let an image return to his memory. If he only returned to those thoughts put in his head by the hat, he wasn’t really imagining her, was he?

 

He justified the way he pumped his cock. Slowly at first, then faster as he remembered the way the light framed her face. By the time he finished he couldn’t tell you if she was wearing a cotton set or a baggy t-shirt.  

__________________________________________________________________________

 

At breakfast he watched her. He saw her light up when she talked to her friends. 

 

Though never fond of Potter and his crew of imbeciles – Weasley in particular – Draco could sense their protectiveness of her. He appreciated that. He felt similar in regards to his own friends.

 

Draco ate and conversed with said friends now. He heard the topic of matches arise and tried not to contribute too much. He half-feared they’d learn what he’d seen the night before. The other half feared he’d be forced to relive it. 

 

He stopped the thoughts before they went too far, half hard already.

 

He was sat next to Theodore Nott, long-time best friend and constant pain in his ass. Theo and Draco grew up together, forced to live the same lie, fight the same war, perform unspeakable actions. 

 

It affected him differently though. Theo was bright like a light, choosing humor and charm to work his way back into the wizarding world. Draco took a more silent approach, appearing in one article and refusing further press. They can’t hate you if you aren’t there , he thought.

 

Across from Draco sat Pansy Parkinson. Her calm demeanor was nothing like the bite she had in her words. He loved her though. Not in a romantic way, though they had fooled around enough to know they are absolutely NOT compatible. Pansy liked to be in charge, call the shots. He could appreciate that even if he couldn't find the same satisfaction from it.

 

She’d come out of the war different too. They all had, he supposed. Her change was miniscule, but Draco knew her well enough to see the sadness in her eyes. She’d lost more than family in the war. Not many knew, but her and Fred Weasley had been seeing each other during that last year. 

 

Draco knew because he spotted Pansy at Fred’s funeral. She was hiding, just as he was, but unlike him, she was doubled over sobbing inaudibly. He stepped into her silencing charm and pulled her to him. They’d been closer since then, more honest with each other. 

 

Their fourth member, Blaise Zabini, sat next to Pansy. Blaise was more similar to Draco: quieter in general, kept to himself. 

 

The main difference was that Blaise Zabini had a keen sense of others. Draco had it, of course, but only with those he was close with. Blaise seemed to be able to read anyone. 

 

The practice of observing but not participating had become second nature to him. In the war he didn’t have much of a place, his parents not holding any high status among the ranks of Voldemort. He never even met the haggard half-man until the day of the Final Battle. 

 

The four of them were some of the few Slytherins who returned to school. Those who believed in Voldemort’s cause opted out of finishing their schooling. They saw the mandatory Muggle Studies courses and seemed to disappear after that.

 

Malfoy didn’t mind it. In fact he was quite excited. Gardening had quickly become his favorite hobby and he’d learned from Muggle books, shop clerks, and visiting conservatories. 

 

He’d picked up a Muggle telephone to keep in touch with his friends from school before there was any timeline of when Hogwarts would be rebuilt. The gadget was something he was still getting the kinks out of, but he enjoyed being able to message his friends instantly.

 

Draco tuned back into the conversation when Pansy recalled her meeting with her partner.

 

“He was kind. He came to my door and slipped a note under asking if I’d like to see him before unity day began”

 

Draco supposed his method to contact Granger last night was not as gentle as he wanted.

 

Bloody scared her off you prick

 

“He just wanted to say hello, introduce himself. He seemed very nervous, but I know I can be… rather aggressive sometimes.”

 

“Who was it again?” Blaise asked.

 

“Neville Longbottom. The one who killed Nagini. He was quite brave that day, wasn’t he?” Pansy said as the corners of her mouth pulled just barely into a smile.

 

Draco noted the action, but said nothing. 

 

His attention was pulled from the conversation when he caught slender fingers reaching into the fruit bowl at the Gryfinndor-saddled table. 

 

The movement brought him back to his fascination. He watched her pluck an apple from the edge of the bowl, examine it quickly, and deem it suitable.

 

He saw her bite into the apple. He saw a drop of juice falling from the corner of her mouth. He saw her tongue peek out to catch it. 

 

Then he saw something else. 

 

Not in the Great Hall. 

 

Well… yes in the Great Hall. But not quite.

 

Pixels were forming around Granger’s hair, just small squares floating then zooming all around the room.

 

He followed them desperately as they zipped around students’ heads, thinking surely someone would notice them. But no one else paid any attention, even when the pixels centered at the chair in the center of the Great Hall. 

 

A chair completely unoccupied. The chair where he sat just the day before to decide his fate.

 

He felt deja vu when he saw her, apple in hand. Apple in hand and legs open like an invitation, the same plain cotton undergarments as her only attire. 

 

One leg was propped up over the gold arm of the throne, accentuating her slender calf and pointed toes. She bit into the apple and a drop escaped her mouth again. 

 

Only this time, it dripped down her neck, close to her pulse point. It followed a path down her collarbone and onto her breast. Even from halfway across the room, he noticed how her nipples pointed when it made contact. 

 

He thought about licking it off of her. Grabbing her other leg and forcing her open for him. Letting her bite down on the apple while he ate her. A snack for both of us he’d tell her. He’d tell her she couldn’t bite through it. If she did, he wouldn’t let her come. He’d love to feel her squirm and struggle with it. 

 

A shake to his shoulder brought him out of the lust filled haze.

 

“Earth to Draco,” said Pansy, sounding mildly irritated.

 

“What the hell are you looking at mate?” Theo chimed in.

 

Theo positioned himself to look from Draco’s point of view, half-toppling him in the process.

 

“What the fuck Nott. Stop trying to bloody straddle me, I already told you I’m only into women. Unlike you my friend,” he pushed Theo off of him with a kind-of friendly shove.

 

When Draco went to look back at the chair though, it was empty. He looked harder and swore a drop of apple juice was beaded on the seat.

 

 

 

Notes:

I hope you all enjoy a tortured Draco as much as I do, let's see how far we can push him... bear with me.

Chapter 7: Seven: Draco

Summary:

Hermione and Draco take on ice-breakers. This time from Draco's POV.

Notes:

TW: mentions of self harm/suicidal thoughts in this chapter.

Please take care of yourselves, I love you all.

 

 

 

After taking care of his second erection of the day, Draco thought he was ready to spend time, uninterrupted, with Granger. 

 

He had seriously miscalculated his own resolve.

 

At first, he did the only thing he knew how to do.

 

He treated her like a bloody piece of shite.

 

He knew the comments would nag at her throughout the day. Calling her swotty and poking fun at her ambition. 

 

He’d seen her reactions in the past, knew she’d be so busy defending herself she wouldn’t attack him, wouldn’t lower his defenses.

 

She usually argued with him.

 

Out on the field though, she turned her back to Draco at the start of their ice-breaking exercises, after only one stray comment.

 

She didn’t stick up for herself.

 

Didn’t meet him with fire like he wanted.

 

Her words he had caught from breakfast lingered in his mind: “I’m actually paired with Draco and this might come as a shock to you all but I am going to give the whole partnership thing a go.”

 

He took a different approach. He tried.

 

He didn’t realize his mistake until he’d made it.

 

__________________________________________________________________

 

The ground was soft on Malfoy’s body. He found himself sinking into it the longer they sat. His stray hand not propping himself up was rooting through the grass. An old habit. Gardeners are always checking soil, rooting out weeds, searching for glory in the form of hidden nature.

 

Nature was his solace. The garden especially.

 

After Granger had amazingly and wandlessly cast a transfiguration spell on his tie, they had a lovely picnic blanket to rest on. He saw her fidgeting too.

Not the way he was. She didn’t root search through the grass like he did. She seemed to twirl something in her hand.

 

He peeked the white petals through the gaps in her fingers, and knew the identity of the flower right away. It was beautiful in her palm.

 

Flowers seemed to shrink when he held them. His hands dwarfed the majority of nature.

 

So seeing the flower rest on her entire palm, petals stretching towards her fingertips, he couldn’t help but let her in on his secret. Let her into his world.

 

“Convallaria majalis.”

 

__________________________________________________________________

 

As he continued to tell her things, about his mother, his garden, his time in the war.

 

He can’t remember all that he said, just that he wanted to continue. Everything he told her was the truth. 

 

She listened to him. For a while they went on like that. Her asking, him answering.

 

But something changed. 

 

“I obliviated my parents right after Voldemort turned flesh again.”

 

He sat silent, patient, waiting for her to continue.

 

Though his eyes searched for hers to encourage her, she found the courage by herself and spoke with eyes towards the ground.

 

“They’re gone. I thought I was saving them. Turns out I sent them to a slaughter.”

 

“They were marked. Probably since the first day of school.”

 

Draco was surprised. He’d never heard any of this. He knew her childhood home had been raided, but he remembered the torture of Yaxley. Remembered how Voldemort tore his mind to shreds over the ‘failure’ of the mission.

 

She continued before he had the chance to question her.

 

“I miss them every single day.”

 

“I hope their death was quick.”

 

He nodded. He understood loss. He had lost himself.

 

“I worried for you… in 7th year especially. Harry was convinced you were up to no good but I saw the pain on your face. I’m sorry you were put in that position.”

 

He thought about the stark contrast between them. How she had been fighting for a worthy cause, how she had chosen to be a part of it.

 

And then him, chosen to be a part of it by someone else. Chosen to be on the side that was unjust and murderous.

 

He’d always wondered if she’d ever wanted to give up. If any of them did, really.

 

He knew he did constantly but that was because he was on the wrong team.

 

What about those who pursued justice? Did they tire in their endeavors?

 

“Of course there were moments,” she replied.

 

“Mostly when we lost people. That’s when you start to wonder if it was worth it. Is the cause more important than the lives of your family and friends? Is it more important than your own life? That’s what I asked myself every day,” Hermione finished.

 

He thought he might’ve understood her at that moment. He thought about his own life. That’s what was at risk when he was given his task. He had weighed his life. How important was it really? If he just stopped living, his task would disappear.

 

He got close once. Bleeding out on the floor of a tile bathroom puts things into perspective. He’d hoped to be left there. He didn’t inflict the harm on himself, so he couldn’t be held responsible. His mother couldn’t be held responsible.

 

That’s the only reason he never went through with doing it himself.

 

His mother would surely be executed should he fail his task.

 

So he bled out on the tile, half wishing for release from his chains and half praying he’d stay alive. For the sake of his mother.

 

He couldn’t imagine Hermione’s loss. Draco’s mother was his landing place. Without her he fears he’d have been led astray by Lucius, turned into someone who enjoyed torment.

 

He wonders if she sees them, her parents.

 

Draco’s dreams are haunted by the ghosts and heroes of the war. 

 

“All the time. I see them still in the Great Hall. Fred exploding into fits of laughter from his newest giggle-master pill. Snape deducting house points for the interruption later in potions. I see Dumbledore in his office and Sirius in the bushes around the castle. I see them all,” Hermione said wistfully, her eyes still on the flower twirling in her palm.

 

“What did you see in the Great Hall, when the re-sorting hat was on your head?”

 

The question slipped out before Draco had the chance to reason with himself.

 

Hermione looked up at him then. 

 

He had to know. Now that he had already said it. He had to. 

 

He knew he was deranged. But what if? What if she was plagued by the same thoughts? 

 

Couldn’t be.

 

“That.”

 

“What?”

 

She searched his eyes more intently. He was desperate to know what she saw, what she meant.

 

“That look,” she began, “Like you want something.”

 

Draco’s resolve crumbled like the butt of a cigarette.

 

He wanted so much.

 

It wasn’t fair how much he wanted. How much he could give her. 

 

He knew he had to get away. From the air they shared and the gaze she had caught him in. He knew if he stayed he would do something he’d regret. 

 

So, like a coward, he ran.

 

 

 

Notes:

Phew! I know that one was a bit heavier, so take some time to decompress if you need it. A dom/sub relationship for me is so built on emotional intimacy, that I need them to connect this way before they go there physically.

Thank you all for following along! Updates are always posted on TikTok first @perfectlyimperfect

Chapter 8: Eight: Draco

Summary:

Draco and Hermione plan their schedule. Tension builds. Draco is not okay.

Notes:

Hey guys! Today's chapter is shorter as I am working tonight! I am a waitress in the summer/full time student during the school year, so I have a bit of a packed schedule. The goal is to update once a day since these chapters are relatively short.

Thanks for your patience, Liz <3

 

 

 

 

Draco hurried through the castle, making his way back to his dorm room. He tore past students, portraits, classrooms. 

 

“Oi watch where you’re going mate!” 

 

Draco turned into a narrow corridor to catch his breath. His heart was racing, his pants tight. He steadied himself with one hand on the wall.

 

He used the other hand to palm his erection, hissing when he realized how fucking hard he’d gotten. She’d gotten in his head just now, forced her image back into his brain.

 

Draco was hungry.

 

And not because they skipped lunch hour. 

 

He was hungry for her. 

 

She was transcendent.

 

Now that he’d seen her, all of her, he craved her in every way.

 

She gave him a glimpse today, on the grounds. A glimpse of what it would be like to be a part of her world. How fiercely she cares for her friends and how selfless she is. Loyal to a fault. 

 

It was all so fucking confusing. 

 

He wanted to hold her hand in the garden, when she spoke about missing her parents. 

 

But when she moved her hair off her neck and he spotted her pulse point, he wanted to bite it.

 

He wanted to tuck the white lily behind her ear and watch her blush.

 

Then whisk her away somewhere he could make her really blush.

 

And come. Hard.

 

He really was obsessed with the thought of making her come.

 

It was torturous.

 

He wanted to tell her. Wanted to shock her with the words and watch her fumble with what to say.

 

He’d always loved rendering her speechless.

 

He thought about it. 

 

Just telling her every depraved thought he’d had in the last twenty four hours. 

 

She would probably hex his bollocks straight off. Go straight to McGonagall and tell her how disgusting he was. 

 

But he remembered the way she searched his eyes. She looked like she needed something from him as much as he did from her.

 

He needed to know what it was. 

 

“The hat will examine your most sincere desires so that it is able to pair you with a like-minded individual.”

 

So what did Granger desire, he thought.

 

And how can I give it to her.

__________________________________________________________________

Since they missed lunch hour, he grabbed two blueberry scones from the Great Hall and headed back towards the dorms.

 

When he rounded the corner, he saw Granger’s door half-open. She was perched on a sturdy wood chair, legs swung over the side like she were being carried ‘bridal-style’ by the chair itself.

 

He couldn’t imagine the position was comfortable. But she continued to work in front of her, ink pen scrawling something on parchment.

 

No classes and already doing homework , he thought. But kept to himself. 

 

Aggravating her was decidedly not what she needed from him.

 

He watched her for another minute or so. Every so often she’d push hair out of her face, exasperated. When she wasn’t using the ink pen the gold of it was wedged between her lips, maybe even her teeth. He couldn’t tell from the angle, just saw it unsupported, bobbing in her mouth.

 

“Schedule Planning without me Granger?”

 

He made his presence known. She stiffened with the intrusion.

 

“Well you ran off like a bloody ferret, so I figured you wouldn’t be joining me.”

 

She turned slightly so she could meet his eyes over the back of the chair. Her neck stretched out was an exquisite view.

 

“I brought a peace offering.” Draco revealed the scones he’d been hiding behind his back, wrapped in a small tea towel with the Hogwarts emblem.

 

Her eyes almost burst out of her head. She must’ve forgotten about lunch too.

 

He handed her a scone and peeked at the clock on her desk that read half past 2. Trust exercises were next on their itinerary, but he doubted she’d be eager to participate in those.

 

While she scarfed down the first scone, he looked over her planned schedule.

 

Well, their planned schedule.

 

Transfiguration, Arithmancy, Potions, Care of Magical Creatures, Muggle Studies, and History of Magic.

 

He noticed immediately that Herbology was not one of her chosen subjects. The one class Draco actually wanted to attend.

 

“Critiquing me already Malfoy?” Hermione said. She must’ve noticed his confused look.

 

“Herbology is a subject I am particularly interested in, as you know.”

 

“Alright, we can add it to the schedule. Right here. Between Transfiguration and Potions.”

 

Draco looked back at the schedule. The 30 minute gap between the two wouldn’t allow for a class in that amount of time. He looked back up at her, now even more confused.

 

Her eyes went wide, “Oh! Right, no we couldn’t do that. Let’s see… How about after Muggle Studies? That would work.”

 

Though she tried to cover her mistake, Draco had a feeling about something.

 

“You have a time turner don’t you.” He was curious. How she could’ve gotten such old magic in her hands. 

 

“No - I - Well. Yes. I did.. Er- Yeah. I did to keep up with my studies in the last few years of school. I couldn’t make time for all the classes but I knew I could do it with the time turner and Dumbledore sort of gave it to me but now it’s gone. It got destroyed in the Final Battle.”

 

She let out a big breath, having tirelessly spoken her explanation.

 

“Hey no judgement here Golden Girl. Just figured you’d be a little more ethical . Maybe there is a dark side to you after all.”

 

He thought he saw her blush faintly, before turning to avoid him.

 

He walked towards the desk, this time setting the second scone down and hovering nearby.

 

She reached for it and began to eat, slower this time. 

 

“I’m not sure if I can trust you Granger. That kind of dark magic leaves a permanent mark on you.”

 

“Says the former Death Eater,” she mumbled, mouth stuffed with scone.

 

“The difference is Granger, I never said you should trust me.”

 

He watched her swallow the bite, fascinated by every muscle in her body.

 

Then he left, shutting the door on his way out.

 

 

 

 

Notes:

HI HI! I know this might seem like more of a filler chapter as we are still building that tension. I like the way this all happens in a day, and if at the end of the day they end up banging it out, (they will so please be patient) I think it will be worth it.

Follow along on Tiktok for updates @perfectlyimperfect

Your kudos and comments mean the world!

Notes:

Thank you so much for reading! Kudos are much appreciated if you want to read more and comments are extremely helpful so speak your truth!