Hate Fucking Dramione
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Summary
What's worse than having to work with your childhood nemesis? Finding out there's only one room available, with only one bed.
Even worse than that? Waking up to find him asleep, rubbing himself on you.
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“It doesn’t have to be like this!” she shouted, valiant until the bitter end. “You’re already physically on our side, Malfoy. Just think about how much we could accomplish if you defected and fought with us.”
His face twisted with incredulous outrage as she tried once again to persuade him. “You stupid, relentless little mudblood—”
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Or: Three months is a really long time to be stuck in a safe house together when you're both kind of assholes.
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“Nothing has changed with you,” Hermione spat harshly. “You’re still so worried about how others perceive you. Merlin forbid someone has an opinion about you that doesn’t match the image you’ve created so carefully of yourself.”
Draco's expression hardened, his eyes growing cold and unforgiving. “Why don’t you go back over to the table and nurse another gin and sulk until Potter lets you give your little ‘woe is me’ speech that you’re so bloody fond of.”
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Or: A ten-year reunion forces Hermione and Draco to confront a decade of things that they've avoided, so they elect to have it out...vertically and horizontally.
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“Vow yourself to me.”
“What?” she questions, her brain too rattled to take seriously the severity in Malfoy's tone.
“What occurs beyond those doors may be a vow forced upon us to take, but let this one be of our own making.”
Hermione opens her mouth but nothing dares come out.
“Vow your mind and body to me as I vow mine to you, to let you hate it and fuck it and ruin it for the rest of our lives.”
or: Hermione and Draco hate each other so much that they decide to fuck it out. Moments before their Ministry-mandated wedding.
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It started with three simple words.
“Make me, Malfoy.”
A sharp intake of breath. A straining jaw. A raised eyebrow.
A threat, a challenge, a promise.
It had been building for months, stewing beneath the surface. It was volatile, dangerous, and completely irresistible. It pulled at Hermione, drawing her in bit by bit, even though she sensed what lay in wait for her. The darkest parts of her couldn’t resist it any longer.