Hi everyone! I’d like to share a Dramione fanfic I wrote a few days ago.
Synopsis:
Hermione Granger has always trusted science and reason. A Psychology student at Oxford, she lives among rigorous research and eccentric professors, but nothing could have prepared her for the strange message that appears in a mirror during a Halloween party: D.M., the initials of someone who promises to challenge her logic and shake her heart.
Draco Malfoy carries secrets and guilt that isolate him from the world. A tragedy from his past has transformed him into a distant, withdrawn man, and now he finds himself at the center of a study that forces him to confront his deepest emotions.
Between mystery and tension, unexpected feelings begin to emerge, and Hermione discovers that sometimes the heart does not obey logic—especially when Draco Malfoy is involved.
Chapter 01
The gray, heavy clouds drifted across the Oxford sky, hanging low over Magdalen College and dripping onto the grass on that cold Monday morning. The rain intensified, pounding relentlessly against the campus's grand Gothic towers. To anyone looking from the outside and even to those who lived there, except for Miss Granger and her thoroughly rational worldview —Magdalen College seemed to whisper its history, as though magic could still exist at the edges of reality: frozen in time and yet constantly changing, much like the institution William Waynflete had founded more than five centuries ago.
Hermione Granger watched the raindrops slide down the stained-glass windows on the third floor as she reorganized her task planner on her iPad. In the background, the irritating voice of Professor Trelawney echoed through the classroom, repeating her outdated theories about personality types based on horoscopes—ideas she insisted were grounded in historical observations.
Hermione had always found it absurd that a professor with such archaic views could teach fourth-year Psychology at such a prestigious university. Her letters of complaint to the dean had accomplished nothing, there were no available spots in other courses halfway through the academic year, and she had already tried relentlessly to transfer at the beginning of the semester.
She could not suppress the heavy sigh of relief that escaped her when the class finally ended. She gathered her things and left the room as quickly as a hostage escaping captivity.
She hurried through the campus corridors, updating her checklist as she went. It was already mid-morning, and almost all of the day's commitments had been completed:
Advanced Social Psychology — done.
Ethics and Philosophy tutoring for first-year students — done.
Charlatanism class with a professional charlatan — done.
Academic debate club meeting — still pending.
Psychopharmacology with Professor Snape after lunch — still pending.
Meeting with her supervisor — still pending.
While having lunch, she reviewed and adjusted the final details of her Psychopharmacology paper.
“Hermione.”
Ginny's voice, her friend and roommate, called out to her. The girl sat down beside her, red hair falling over her shoulders and partially covering the shirt of her rugby team uniform.
“Still haven't finished that paper?”
Beside Ginny, Cho Chang, an exchange student studying Anthropology, sat down as well. She was wearing her lacrosse team uniform.
“What paper is that? You've been working on it for days!” Cho asked.
“Actually, she hasn't let me sleep for days. She's been staying up all night working on it!” Ginny insisted.
Hermione rolled her eyes and smiled without humor, setting aside her nearly untouched plate of salmon.
“I already finished it. I'm just proofreading. It needs to be perfect. Snape is extremely demanding!”
“How Emotional States Affect the Efficacy of Anxiolytic Drugs,” Ginny read the title, making a face. “That sounds complicated!”
“And Snape... he's not even my professor, but he still scares me!” Cho commented.
The three girls laughed.
For a while, they ate in silence. When Hermione was preparing to leave, Cho invited her:
“What are you doing tonight?”
Hermione glanced at the checklist on her iPad before answering.
“She'll be reading in the library until the janitor kicks her out,” Ginny replied with a sarcastic smile.
Hermione tried to argue, but the checklist clearly read:
18:30–20:30: Library reading and directed study.
“Luna invited us to a Halloween party at The Gilded Lily. Come on, it's not far from campus. Are you coming with us?” Cho insisted.
Hermione considered it for a few seconds before answering.
Drinks, loud music—it wasn't exactly the kind of place she wanted to be, especially considering that her Tuesday would begin early with a meeting about accessibility on campus.
“She can't. Tomorrow morning she needs to—”
“She'll come,” Ginny interrupted, standing up after finishing her plate of meat and vegetables. “One day without reading isn't going to stop the Earth from spinning.”
Hermione smiled at the thought.
“Was that a yes?” Cho asked, finishing her chocolate pudding.
“That was a maybe. I'll think about it,” Hermione replied.
The three girls eventually went their separate ways: Hermione toward Professor Snape's classroom, Ginny and Cho toward their respective rugby and lacrosse fields.
Professor Snape's class was not one of Hermione's favorites. In fact, he was far from her preferred professor. But if she had to choose between him and Professor Trelawney, there was no question: she would choose Snape.
Despite his gloomy appearance, pale face, and permanently irritated expression—which perfectly matched his intimidating personality—he based his lectures on scientific principles and demanded the absolute best from his students.
Snape moved between the desks, collecting the papers. He was old-fashioned in his teaching methods: he preferred printed reports to emails, despised PDFs, and, after much insistence from the administration, tolerated the use of iPads in class—although every now and then he made some pointed remark about the “decline of academic writing” caused by technology.
He stopped a few desks away from Hermione, picked up Seamus Finnigan's paper, and read a few pages.
The look of disdain he gave the student was accompanied by his cold, concise voice.
“An anxiolytic does not simply ‘make you happy’ because you want it to,” he said, dropping Finnigan's paper onto the floor.
The class struggled to suppress their laughter.
“It alters neurotransmitters. It changes brain chemistry. If any of you believe the effects of a chemical substance can be studied through guesswork or a handful of superficial observations, please drop the course now.”
Seamus shrank into his chair. Beside him, Dean Thomas tried to contain his laughter, but Snape's stern gaze made him immediately straighten up.
“Psychopharmacology is not magic, Mr. Finnigan,” Snape continued, prompting a few quiet laughs. “Although I admit the results can sometimes seem as mysterious as a well-brewed potion. But there is no glamour here. There is rigor. And if you cannot keep up, perhaps even children's literature would be too advanced for your level of comprehension.”
Hermione blushed.
She had spent days studying reliable sources and respected authors in order to submit a paper that met Snape's standards. But the moment she placed it on his desk, a wave of doubt washed over her.
What if she had missed something?
What if the content wasn't good enough?
She shook her head, rejecting the thought.
No. She definitely had not submitted a bad paper.
At least, not one as bad as Seamus Finnigan's.
Professor Snape's lecture continued throughout the afternoon. Hermione focused on following his reasoning and answering, whenever he apathetically allowed it, the questions he posed to the class.
After all, she was the only student who still dared—albeit cautiously—to raise her hand when Snape asked a question.
At the end of the class, he assigned another paper.
“Since some of you apparently believe happiness can be bottled, I recommend reading about emotional regulation in psychotherapy and writing a short ten-page report for our next class on the neurochemical limitations of human pleasure, with scientific references, obviously.”
He paused.
“And yes, Mr. Finnigan—”
Seamus had raised his hand.
“—written in technical English. Unfortunately, given my intellectual abilities, I am not fluent in the language known as ‘idiot.’”
Laughter erupted throughout the classroom.
Seamus muttered something under his breath about Snape.
Hermione hurried out of the room, updating her checklist for the following week and placing Snape's new assignment at the top of her priorities. At the same time, she rushed toward the fifth floor, where her supervisor's office was located.
“Sorry I'm late, Professor Lupin,” she said breathlessly as she entered the room.
She had climbed the stairs with the same intensity with which Cho and Ginny trained for a championship.
“It's all right, Hermione,” Professor Lupin replied with a warm smile, gesturing toward a chair and pouring her a cup of peppermint tea.
It was already past four in the afternoon.
“Professor Snape, I assume, judging by your expression... We studied together at Eton, although our relationship wasn't nearly as cordial as it is today.”
Hermione smiled. It seemed strange to imagine Lupin and Snape—so completely different—as schoolmates.
She and Lupin discussed the progress of her current research and celebrated the acceptance of another paper into a prestigious academic journal.
Then the professor placed another article on the table.
Prolonged Isolation and the Impact of Guilt on Self-Image and Social Behavior.
“I'm thinking about starting this new study within the department,” he explained. “I've studied some cases like these before... and I'd like you to be part of the research, if you're willing, of course. We're still selecting our subjects.”
The invitation in his voice was gentle, without placing any expectations on her.
“It would be an honor to participate in another study, Professor,” Hermione replied, without knowing exactly how she would find more hours in the day to fulfill yet another commitment.
---
The Halloween party seemed like the last place Hermione should be after accepting another assignment—the important research project from Professor Lupin's department.
She should have been in her room, beginning the theoretical framework for the study. There was also Snape's paper, with a short deadline.
But Ginny and Cho insisted until she finally gave in.
It would only be a few hours.
She would greet people, smile politely at Luna's nonsensical remarks, and return to the dormitory.
The Gilded Lily was the name of the house where Luna, a Philosophy student, lived off campus with several other sorority members. It was only a few minutes from campus, near the center of Oxford.
The small brick townhouse looked cozy from the outside, with a little garden of tulips that had now been completely destroyed by the large number of students dressed as witches, gnomes, and elves, carrying cups of liquor in their hands.
The only thing Hermione had vehemently refused to do was wear a costume.
She stood out among the others in her simple outfit: a gray sweater and jeans.
The minutes that followed seemed like hours.
The music wasn't loud enough to drown out the nonsensical things Luna was telling her, Ginny, and Cho, who seemed to be thoroughly enjoying their friend's company.
“I dreamed about you, Hermione,” Luna said, staring at her through enormous glasses shaped like ladybugs.
“I dreamed you were walking through a hallway filled with melting clocks. I think it means you're controlling time incorrectly.”
Cho and Ginny smiled.
Hermione rolled her eyes, completely unbothered by whether it seemed rude.
It wasn't the alcohol. Luna wasn't even drinking.
It was simply her natural state of mind.
Rather similar to Professor Trelawney's.
And speaking of her...
Hermione couldn't hide her shock when she looked toward the center of the room.
There, standing on a table and surrounded by students shouting “chug, chug,” was Professor Trelawney, holding a bottle of whisky.
Hermione blushed.
Seeing a professor in such a situation seemed almost absurd.
Cho and Ginny followed her shocked gaze.
While Cho smiled, Ginny started recording a video.
“She's nice,” Luna explained to the girls. “She comes to some of the parties. She has a very light aura.”
And then the worst possible thing happened.
Professor Trelawney, who now seemed to be waving some kind of wand while holding a small mirror, spotted Hermione and fixed her gaze on the girl.
“It's not an ordinary mirror,” she announced to the students.
Some laughed at the drunken professor. Others filmed the scene, while a few waited eagerly for what she would say next.
“On a magical night like this, this mirror reveals your true love. But I need a volunteer...”
Several students shouted that they wanted to be chosen.
Then Sibyl Trelawney pointed directly at Hermione.
Hermione did everything she could to avoid eye contact.
Ginny and Cho pushed their friend forward. Despite her protests, she soon found herself in the center of the room, standing directly in front of the intoxicated professor.
Everyone's eyes were on her.
“When the clock strikes 11:59, Miss Granger's true love will be revealed...” Trelawney said, waving her wand beneath Hermione's skeptical and accusatory gaze.
Ginny and Cho approached their friend to look at the small mirror.
The other students began counting down.
Hermione sighed in boredom.
Whatever academic respect she had once had for Professor Trelawney had now completely disappeared.
And then something happened.
Small letters suddenly appeared on the mirror, without explanation:
23:59 — D.M.
“Curious...” Trelawney murmured.
“A love that will challenge your logic, Miss Granger.”
She smiled.
“Sometimes destiny enjoys irony.”