bobthefrog107 (bobthefrog)
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A one-shot formed by a collection of drabbles. Back to back wizarding wars has left the society broken, scrambling and healing. Everyone in so many generations has felt some kind of loss that they shouldn’t have needed to feel. Luna Lovegood has felt this loss, she’s experienced it first hand, and it still pulls at her everyday. After the war she set out to try and find a way to make sense of this ache and hopefully find a way to help others make sense of it too. She found tattooing. Two years after the war, she earns her license and opens the doors to her shop. Here is a collection of a few of her customers over the following few years.
!! This follows canon HP along with a few headcanons I’ve created myself. !!
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It's Ron and Harry's stag party, and someone unexpected pops out of the metaphorical cake.
(Harry/Luna/Ron, with implied Ginny/Blaise/Hermione)
Bookmarked by bobthefrog107 (bobthefrog)
11 Jun 2025
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Harry and Ron find out that Ginny and Hermione had sex with Blaise at their joint bachelorette party and decided to fuck Luna in revenge
“Sex,” Ron said. Well, it was more a hiss than a statement, really. “Sex. Hermione. Blaise. Sex.”
- “Oh, yes,” Luna said. “He’d already done quite a nice job with Ginny, you see—and Ginny really had done a lovely job of entertaining Hermione in the meantime, she really does have the most talented tongue, that girl.” Harry groaned. “In any case, when he began to take care of Hermione—" Ron groaned. “—Ginny looked so all alone, and so lovely, and I thought I’d go on up with them and help out, but—" “They said no,” Harry muttered. “Yes,” pouted Luna, “but they wouldn’t share, and Lavender and Parvati started pulling me down, and I never did like them
- “Oh, yes,” Luna said, wriggling the skirt past her feet, “and Hermione was making that high-pitched sighing OH-OH-OH sound she always makes when Ginny and I come to visit and you and she are off—OH!” Aside went the blouse, rip went the brassiere and slurp went Ron’s mouth as he pulled the ringed nipple into his mouth. Harry watched in a kind of fascinated dread as Ron’s hands made Luna’s knickers disappear as effectively as they’d eliminated the bra, and suddenly there was no pretense—Luna Lovegood was quite naked on the floor of their flat, and Ron was moving his thumb up and down her vulva in a manner that caused Luna’s protuberant eyes to cross. “How nice,” she said. Harry stood there, frozen. Really, he had never been one to lock up. When decisive action was called for, Harry was always the first to commit—a tendency that Ron and Hermione had been trying to rein in for a decade. Not Ginny. She’d never tried to make him be someone else.
- “Merlin. Harry. We just… Hermione’ll kill me.” “You can take turns killing each other,”
- “She doesn’t handle booze well, Hermione. I know she only did it ‘cause she was drunk and ‘cause she thought I…” Ron blinked and stroked Luna’s back, then grinned and looked back up at Harry. “I… I’ve always wanted to…” ... “That was pretty amazing. I’ve always wondered what it would be like with her.” “Oh. Yeah. That too,”
- I tried to write a next-morning fic where the two couples have to admit to each other what they did.... but come on. There's no way to make that conversation fun. Hermione, in particular, would have been a complete mess.
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Two days before the Death Eater Trials are set to begin, Harry Potter gives Hermione Granger a vial full of memories--her memories--which Snape obliviated in Sixth Year.
Dropping into the Pensieve, wondering who the oblivation was supposed to protect, Hermione is faced with the last person she expected--no, an impossible person: Draco Malfoy.
or:
Hermione's POV on Draco's memories in Pensieves and Possiblities. Updates every Thursday until Draco's birthday.
Series
- Part 2 of Possibilities
Bookmarked by bobthefrog107 (bobthefrog)
15 Jun 2025
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"It’s not about what happened in the tent …? Because I thought we agreed to not regret it but also to not speak of it again” “No, it’s not about us” Harry looked pained… as if he did regret (it)… Hermione nearly went on a “what did you really expect with two heterosexual teenagers left alone… for months on end” rant
Lavender- “And then he sucked my whole clit into his mouth and flicked it with his tongue. I didn’t even teach him to do that. And his hands! His fingers are so long, he can reach such good places. Do you know, I didn’t even have to tell him where my g-spot was? He found it all on his own”; “But you two finally did it then, right? Not just hands and mouths?” “Yes, we finally shagged. And, sweet Circe, Parvati, his cock is huge!”
“You were almost there–Why–” “I can’t” Current Hermione knew what (she) meant. She could never bring herself to orgasm until–oh God–6th Year.. “I can. Will you let me?”; “You are sopping, what a good girl to get so wet for me”; Draco Malfoy had given her her very first orgasm; “I knew watching you come would be the most incredible thing I would ever witness”; “Was that your first orgasm?… I love that I am the first to give that to you”
“Why is my survival so important to you?”; “C’mon, Granger, you’re smarter than this” “Because you’re in love with me?” “There she is! Brightest witch of her age” “But that doesn’t make any sense” “No, what doesn’t make sense is you pining over Weasley” “That is none of your business”
“Really, Miss Granger, rape fantasies?” Yes, all of her fantasies of Malfoy had involved him forcing her… They were always her best orgasms, even the tiniest bit better than the ones with Ron, which were already quite satisfying; “Miss Patil, perhaps” “The Gryffindor Bike? Doubtful” “The Ravenclaw. All quiet repression?"; "if he knew you imagined him in such a light, he would be devastated. In every fantasy he has of you, he is reverential”; “The Dark Lord has a plan… a breeding program with your generation"
"She’s my girlfriend, not yours”; “That’s right, you’re the only one who gets to punish me” “Hermione, not in front of Harry!” “Ugh, no, not in front of Harry”; “Did you have sex with Malfoy?” “Harry!” Hermione whisper-shrieked back. She hissed, “You know very well that I was a virgin until the Forest of Dean.”
And no matter how much she loved him (and she did, so much) or how good the sex was (she shivered at the 3 ways he made her come in the Defence corridor alcove that morning), she knew… her magic would not point her to him; she prayed the Weasleys were among those that did (believe in soulmarks) and would forgive her; "you may feel a slight, quick burn, maybe a pinch” “Yeah, that’s what they said about my virginity…” “I am sorry about that. I was just excited, that’s all” Harry had already deflowered a virgin carefully… he should have known better. Still, Hermione agreed it was a bit more than a pinch and a burn; Hermione began a silent prayer, “Not him. Anyone but him. Ron will forgive me for anyone but him”; He held up his lavender weasel. How utterly cruel. Not only was Ron’s soulmate a girl he had rejected, but she was also–well, dead; “You really think he’s the one to help you move on…” She wasn’t sure whether it was Ron’s first time being hostile since before he left… or her own guilt… that made her snap “You mean the person who abandoned us?”; She wasn’t even sure why she was being so vicious; Pansy’s pining for Neville… had been painful to watch; “You’re lucky you’re fit now!” And then they began snogging; "If you don’t want to see my father, you won’t have to… I’ll go… because he’s my father"; “I know it was hard to choose me over Ronald, but I will make sure you never regret it”; Ron’s howl of “Noooo!” echoed across the Great Hall.. Fred was supporting Ron, who seemed to be collapsing in tears. “I think he’s just realising that his soulmate is–or was–Lavender” “Just now? The weasel was lavender” “Don’t! He was my first love, I still love him, I will probably always love him in some way. Insulting him insults me”; “She is capable of making her own decisions” “Clearly not, if you’re choosing Malfoy over us” “I’m not! I’m just choosing to be with him, too..” “We could be your family, if you choose correctly” “Why are you doing this.. when you can see this Soulmate mark?” Fred.. raged, “Because there must be something.. wrong with your magic, with your SOUL, if it would mate itself to that absolute maggot”; Firmly, Arthur interrupted, “Well, then, I guess this is goodbye”; “I guess it is.. You are all going on about my choice. But you.. can choose to love me unconditionally as I do you” she looked at Harry… he hadn’t stood up for her… just like he never had. “I have always chosen you first, Harry. Even over Ron.. This time.. I’m choosing something for me, and I hope you can find it in yourself to be happy for me one day”; “I can’t make up for that loss, but whatever this is, it’s unconditional”
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Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy, Ron Weasley, and Pansy Parkinson are forcibly paired under a reenacted marriage law, designed to combat the wizarding world’s plummeting population. Matches must consummate their unions within a year or face reassignment.
Furious at the injustice, Hermione agrees to marry Draco Malfoy, as a calculated act of rebellion, determined to expose the law’s cruelty from within. Draco, under his mother’s pressure, sees the marriage as a means to an end, a way to restore the Malfoy name and manipulate public favour by aligning with the war’s golden girl.
Ron and Pansy, unexpectedly matched and left behind, are forced into uneasy coexistence, watching the people they care for most choose strategy over sentiment.
Intentions don’t stay hidden forever. With every bitter word, every stone thrown, and every unspoken truth, each couple finds themselves inching closer to the edge, until love, loyalty, and defiance bleed into something more dangerous.This is not how you fall in love. This is how you destroy me.
Series
- Part 2 of This is How You Destroy Me
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Bookmarked by bobthefrog107 (bobthefrog)
26 Jun 2025
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C1 NOTES
- Hermione considered Ron’s question. Was it too late to marry him? Their sexual chemistry had never been… well, phenomenal. They had slipped too easily into the comforting rhythms of friendship. But wasn’t that better than the alternative—no chemistry at all? There was no way she was going to shag Malfoy, even if consummation within a year was a mandatory requirement . What did the Ministry expect? A bunch of old wizards camped out by the bedside, cheering them on until it happened? Honestly, at this point, she wouldn’t be surprised.
- “Granger will be moving into the Manor,” Malfoy cut in before Hermione could speak… Hermione stared at him, stunned. “Absolutely not,” she snapped. “Malfoy can move into my flat. I’m not uprooting my entire life to live in a house I was tortured in.” Technically, she was being dramatic; she’d seen a Healer and had mostly made peace with the trauma. Still, she wanted to wipe that aristocratic look off his face, and it worked... “The drawing room’s been extensively renovated,” Draco said through gritted teeth. “As has the rest of the Manor...”...
- Hermione Granger could and would jump from partner to partner, never once consummating a single marriage, just collecting a treasure trove of vibrators and dildos along the way, perfectly content to handle her own needs. If there was one thing she excelled at, it was being petty.
- “And last, but not least—assets.”... Hermione felt her stomach roll. “I don’t want a knut of his wretched blood money,” she stood so suddenly her chair screeched back. Across the table, Draco looked maddeningly calm. “It won’t be necessary,” he said smoothly... “Give her full access. A hundred percent. Upfront.” His smirk stretched wide that Hermione briefly considered violating their no-harm clause just to wipe it off his face. “I said no. I have my own funds.”
- Hermione flushed, mortified to hear her financial status read aloud like a market report. Yes, she had more saved than most her age, but that didn’t mean she wanted him to know. Especially not when Draco Malfoy was now looking at her like she was something pitiful on the bottom of his boot.- “If both parties are in agreement,” McLaggen said... “you now have two options for the ceremony: you may host your own wedding... or, should you prefer expediency, it can take place in front of a Wizengamot judge next Tuesday.”… “In front of the Wizengamot is fine,” Hermione replied crisply. “I don’t believe either of us has any desire to make this a bigger spectacle than it already is.” “Whatever my bride wants,” Draco shrugged. Then he grinned and licked his canines. “Provided you wear a tightly fitted, white bodice gown… preferably corseted.” Hermione launched herself to her feet and stormed out without a single word. She’d wear a bloody paper bag just to spite him.
- He said it like she was a burden. As if she were some Jane Austen spinster being shuffled around, not someone who lived in a manor that was easily half the size of Diagon Alley itself. “Then that settles it,” Ron said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Parkinson lives with me.” She scoffed. “ Excuse me ? Settles it ? You want me to move into your flat ? I currently have a swimming pool, a library, a manicured garden, a massive walk-in closet, and a claw-foot soaking tub. And you think I’m going to trade that for a rectangular room with a stand-up shower?” She ticked off the points on her fingers. Ron clicked. “If I make your closet bigger, will that help?”
- “I can’t compete with the pool or the garden,” he admitted. “But my bathroom does have a soaking tub. I’ve got a terrace—Longbottom keeps dropping off plants for it, and somehow they’re still alive.” He leaned back, folding his arms. “But there is no way in Merlin’s saggy ball sac that I’m moving in with your parents and your sisters.”
- She had expected a petulant, awkward redhead. Not a man who offered solutions—arrogant, bullheaded ones, sure—but solutions nonetheless.- Across the table, Ron shifted. “Did you… want a proper wedding?” In truth, yes. Of course, she did. She wanted a proper wedding, with a towering four-tier cake, tiny amuse-bouches, flutes of champagne, a breathtaking dress, and friends cheering for her. She wanted to feel beautiful. Celebrated. Chosen. But she wasn’t going to humiliate herself further. She wouldn’t give her parents the chance to smile falsely and whisper about her. She wouldn’t give society another reason to point and laugh at the girl parading around as if she were loved.
“No,” she said flatly. “Next Monday. Wizengamot.” Ron tapped his palm lightly against the table and stood, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked tired. Not just physically, but soul-deep weary. “All done, then?” he asked. “All done,” McLaggen replied... Pansy watched them disappear, one after another. And for one brief, absurd moment she wished she could jump in with them.
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