we're just like the flowers
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A soft crackling sound. A voice, distant and dreamy. “Hello?”
“It’s—” he clears his throat and chokes on air. “Malfoy—Draco—Hermione?”
A pause. A deeper voice—not hers—something about who and time of night and Draco's about to slam the receiver back down again when Hermione’s voice cuts through the cold plastic.
“Where are you?”
Series
- Part 1 of Dramione Month 2026
- Part 1 of we're just like the flowers
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A fluttering of butterflies stops Hermione from knocking on the imposing wooden door of Malfoy Manor.
Narcissa’s coolly commanding voice emanates from the scattered wings. “They’ll lead you to the garden, Ms Granger.”
In a flurry of motion, the butterflies dart away—across the overgrown grass—through the towering hedge maze—until Hermione feels completely and utterly lost; as though the Queen of Hearts might appear at any second and threaten her head.
She turns another corner, disorientated and almost dizzy, and sees Narcissa lowering a teacup delicately onto its saucer.
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- Part 2 of Dramione Month 2026
- Part 2 of we're just like the flowers
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“Oh for Salazar’s sake,” Lucius mutters as he watches Draco help the muggleborn out of her coat. “She's back again. I thought you uninvited her.”
Narcissa gently puts her hand on his arm. “Not now, darling,” she murmurs. “Ms Granger,” she continues in a louder voice. “What a surprise.”
Lucius watches the impertinent girl flinch, ever so slightly, and for a moment his mood lifts.
Until his son steps towards them—in front of the muggleborn—and frowns. “How can it be a surprise, mother, when you told me to bring her?”
Series
- Part 3 of Dramione Month 2026
- Part 3 of we're just like the flowers
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Narcissa watches the gently falling snow melt and eventually drip down the worn stone teeth of the mausoleum’s gargoyles. The rhythmic plopping sound reminds her of a heartbeat—of children counting to a hundred—of watching the rain cascade over Hogwarts’ windows.
Andromeda’s footsteps echo the sound of falling water. She stands beside Narcissa—never touching, of course—her muggle coat starkly blue against the graveyard’s monochrome hues.
“How’s Edward?” Narcissa asks as she tucks her hands further into her robe’s pockets.
“Teddy’s started kindergarten,” her sister replies with her usual acidic tone.
Series
- Part 4 of Dramione Month 2026
- Part 4 of we're just like the flowers
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Theo considers the Draco-shaped lump on the floor of his guest room.
“You know,” he says conversationally, and the lump groans. “If you wait a couple more weeks it’ll be Valentine’s.”
The lump shifts as Draco throws a pillow in Theo’s vague direction. “Go away,” he mumbles pathetically.
Series
- Part 5 of Dramione Month 2026
- Part 5 of we're just like the flowers
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Astoria lifts her teacup and studies the woman sitting across from her. There’s a flush to her cheeks—stray snowflakes on the shoulders of her coat—her hair has frizzed out of its bun in a way that looks both bedraggled and artfully beautiful.
“I didn’t think you’d want to meet me,” Hermione says as she tucks her scarf into a pocket and shrugs out of her coat.
“I didn’t,” Astoria says before Hermione can continue. “But you come up so often in conversation that I was curious what you’d have to say.”
Series
- Part 6 of Dramione Month 2026
- Part 6 of we're just like the flowers
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Hermione lets out a long-suffering sigh and flops dramatically across the scrawled-over parchment.
“At this point,” she mutters from underneath her wayward hair, “we may as well call her something utterly ridiculous like—like Buttercup.”
“Well,” Draco muses as he gently lifts some of her curls away from her face. “That is a flower name, so mother would be happy.”
Series
- Part 7 of Dramione Month 2026
- Part 7 of we're just like the flowers