Prince of snakes | Dramione

Chapter 1

Notes:

Hello !

I just started this story. I wanted to be able to share some of my ideas, to mix a broken but sensual Draco Malfoy and a Hermione in the throes of a post-war panic. It will be very different in this eighth year at Hogwarts and the more the story evolves, the more the relationship between our two madcaps will take off. Hope you like my story, enjoy reading!

 This fanfic contains sexual content, graphic depictions of violence and referenced of torture. 

"𝐻𝑜𝑔𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑎𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑏𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑤𝑒𝑙𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 ℎ𝑜𝑚𝑒."

For some obscure reason, Hermione Granger found herself standing on the cobblestones of Diagon Alley. Here, the bustling magical streets were once filled with happiness and hope. The Leaky Cauldron pub, the dozens of bookshops, and Ollivanders Wand Shop now appeared lackluster after the war. The narrow signs, broken doors, and walls shimmering with dust reflected the image of a faltering city in ruins. The young Gryffindor hadn't expected to wander these adjacent streets again, where numerous shops now stood abandoned. Yet, her long legs, encased in high-waisted white jeans, moved over every debris as if she inhabited another world—a dreamlike existence. Perhaps she needed a reminder? Maybe her nightmares had invaded her mind too much, keeping her in a comatose state of grim memories? She couldn't say for sure.

The war had left destruction in its wake—buildings, families, and even people's hearts. It fractured the depths of the soul, draining an individual's inner wellspring. Hermione knew she was different now, broken by the past few years. But beyond the inner voice urging her to give up, nothing could pierce the steel armor she had erected to keep the shadows at bay. She needed to clear her mind, to reflect before plunging into the unknown. A new year at Hogwarts shouldn't evoke this bile-like sensation in her throat. It was déjà vu. Yet... Yet, her trembling lips couldn't conjure the same spark of life deep within her chest. It had vanished, just like several of her comrades on the battlefields.

"Why return to Hogwarts?" Ron had asked her, exasperated, a few months ago.

His best friend hadn't chosen Hogwarts. A whole new path had opened up for him. Since the moment Voldemort was defeated, events had unfolded with overwhelming intensity. The heroes who conquered the dark wizard—Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and Harry Potter—had survived the unimaginable. Amid public acclaim and ministry recognition, brown envelopes had fluttered about, heralding their praise and promoting their futures.

Ron had been offered a prestigious position on the Irish Quidditch team. Harry, on the other hand, had reluctantly accepted the role of an Auror at the Ministry of Magic, but only under the condition that he could complete his studies at Hogwarts. The shock had etched itself on everyone's faces, except Hermione's. Like her, the only glimmer of love and the image of home resided within the magical walls of the castle that had welcomed them for so many years. Nothing awaited them beyond those fortress walls.

Harry's sole blessing, amidst the horrors of the past, lay with his girlfriend, Ginny Weasley, who spent her year at Hogwarts. Battling the grief of her departed brother, Fred, the young Weasley sought solace in the arms of her friends and the rest of her family.

Ron sent her letters. Hermione couldn't help but smile ironically at their content. They were more formalities than genuine interest in her. The kiss they'd shared in the heat of the moment had evaporated, lost in the sands of time. Ron didn't attempt to understand her, pushing her away after his brother's tragic death. When the Quidditch opportunity arose, he dove into the unknown with enthusiasm. Hermione didn't hold it against him. Each of them navigated the depths of their emotions in their own way. Perhaps she expected a few more words from him? Certainly. As surprising as it may be, the small interwoven envelope under her fingers brought her no solace. She knew its contents by heart.