Dramione Oneshots

His Tie, Her Obsession

Hermione had always been meticulous and detail oriented, but she had reached new heights this year. Her therapist explained that she was experiencing a mild case of OCD as a result of the trauma she suffered. That she was searching for relief and balance by trying to control any aspect of her life that she could. In doing so, however, she lost a bit of control over herself.

Non-sense. She was fully in control.

At all times.

Walking down the corridor by herself, Hermione heard a voice complaining about his tie. About how he could never get the uniform ties quite straight because of the inferior quality of the material and how Madam Malkin simply needed to supply superior options to those who could afford them.

The faceless student rounded the corner with two other bodies, one on each side of him. Instantly, her eyes found the tie in question. He was right. It was an absolute disgrace. What could have been a perfect knot was too lax at the top, too pinched at the bottom, and the whole thing was overall too bulbous. The proportions were off, causing the thin side to hang lower than the wider half, which was partly why everything looked all scrunched where it all coiled together. Without contemplating her actions, Hermione walked right up to them, effectively halting the three boys mid-stride. Focusing only on the task in front of her, she loosened the knot, balanced the lengths, looped, tucked and pulled snug. Satisfied, the witch stroked the material in appreciation of her work and walked away.

Not a minute later, it hit her whose tie she fixed. Whose chest she stroked... while moaning slightly in the simple gratification.

Malfoy

Draco Malfoy

Draco bloody fucking Malfoy

Waste of effort, fixing his tie. Waste of a tie too. Knowing him, it was already removed and thrown to the ground for being touched by a mudblood. Set on fire, perhaps, to kill her filthy, somehow contagious, biohazard-grade, muggle-descending germs.

Mortified. She was absolutely mortified and so distracted in transfiguration that she missed a question. She didn't get it wrong, but the professor did have to ask a second time. It was humiliating. And completely mortifying.

After lunch, came potions.

Potions with every qualified 7th year student.

Slughorn announced that he was pairing everyone off by skill level, and that only meant one thing. Without Harry and Snape's old book to steal the spotlight unjustly, there were two obvious contenders for best brew.

The prat never moved. Every single time they were paired together - which was every single time that Slughorn felt like mixing things up - Malfoy never got off his lazy arse and moved to her table. He made her move to him. Every. Single. Time.

Halfway to his table, trying her best to avoid eye contact, she took note of something else. Something that caused her to pause.

His tie was already messed up.

Or it was a new one because he swapped out the dirty one like she thought he would.

Throughout the entire lesson, his hands would fiddle with the dangling material. He would chop this, grind that. Stir here, simmer there. He did everything he was supposed to in order to produce a well-concocted Draught of Eternal Bliss (the effects of which were far less eternal-lasting than the name indicated). In between steps, however, he would touch it. He kept touching it, drawing her attention to the crooked accessory. It was driving her insane. Her teeth bit the inside of her cheek, her fingers impatiently drummed against the table while they waited for the professor to sign off on their work.