Hermione Fanart Novels & Stories

Thousands of creatures lived in the mage dimension, others more populous than the next. Artemis could be a rare creature from the sea. I wanted her out of my head. Her hair stuck in my mind like her baked blueberry scent. Her hair had tiny loose curls, it was so dark it almost looked blue. She held power I couldn’t let Hera possess. I couldn’t allow myself to get sloppy and let her fall into my bed either. Things got messy when sex coupled with obligation.

I know I have my mother to fight with me and I also know who I am now and how my decision matters. "As my daughter, you know you have a responsibility to fulfill for this pack, Hermione! This is the only way for us to end our conflict with their pack and avoid the war that might kill hundreds of werewolves in ours! You have to do as I say whether you like it or not! That's an order." He walked away, leaving me those words that just made me loath him more.

Why had an act so small in the scheme of things seemed so intrusively intimate? “I suppose you need details of our moles and other distinguishing features in case she asks.” “Right now, I can see enough,” he said, causing her cheeks to burn. “Such a pity you didn’t moan, unlike the pretty miller’s daughter.” Hermione stared at her feet, still puce with embarrassment. Was that because of her bared breasts? “You’re mocking me,” she murmured. “Not at all,” he declared, putting a finger under her chin and raising it. “The face isn’t bad, either.”

Lee says. I carefully sit on the side of the bed and pull down the sheets. "Fuck me. Do you see that, Lee?" I ask. She is only wearing a Hogwarts t-shirt. It's a Slytherin one with Draco Malfoy on it. "She is a big fan of bad boys." Lee laughs. "No! She is mine! She should be a fan of us, not him!" I snap at Lee furiously. "Ok, man. Lee replies, backing off. "I want to touch her. Fuck, look at her panties. They are see-through, black, sheer as fuck." I said, feeling myself getting excited.

She didn’t seem too happy with him, he was at least trying to make her laugh but she tried to ignore that he was even beside her. “I noticed that you stopped but I didn’t want to bug you by asking.” Christian joined in the conversation again. “Well I just took a break; each of my paintings describes my mood. I could almost say that almost none of them are so lively, anyways cooking is my hobby now.” Hermione grinned. It felt like she was trying to say something, like maybe she wasn’t happy. “Oh and, Aren’t you two planning to have a baby? Don’t you want to get pregnant Hayley?”

The onlookers once again became excited as they gossiped. ‘Why is the top fan staying up so late? Is he really here crazily liking all posts about Harmonia?’ ‘Although he is verified on Twitter, every single one of his posts is about Harmonia, including the likes. This is such a beautiful love story!’ ‘Hey, ladies, the top fan also liked posts about the young lover with silver hair. Could it be that he is also shipping the relationship between Harmonia and the young lover with silver hair?’ FMYL especially replied affirmatively to this comment: ‘Yes.’

“Longer, miss. I’ve worked here as his housekeeper for the last five years. I’ll get you water!” “Oh, what’s your name?” I asked, liking her chatty nature. I could make friends with her and get to know a lot about my captor! “Stella Hawkes! I know you’re Hermione Averoff!” I gasped at the way she pronounced my full name. I hated it. “Please call me Hera. I hate my full name!” “Why? It’s so exotic, a symbol of intelligence in our era! Hermione was the daughter of the Greek messenger God, Hermes. I’m sure you know that already!”

"And where is your husband?" Hermione kept her expression neutral. "He'll be running late." "Oh, really? Or maybe he just doesn't care—" "Mom, at least let her in before you interrogate her." Tony appeared from behind, gently pushing his mother aside. He smiled at Hermione. "Welcome home, Hermione. Happy birthday. Uncle is waiting." "Thanks," Hermione replied, brushing past the duo and stepping into the mansion. It was still as she remembered — stiff, glamorous, and painfully self-absorbed. She had inherited her love of art from her father, who was a collector himself. In the sitting room hung a massive portrait of Robert Windsor, like the narcissist he was.

The baby-soft pink with shades of purple and lint gold is artistically appealing, and the way it complements her skin is captivating. It's unimaginable that I'd get turned on by pajamas, but the sight of Hermione in any attire is a stimulant for me. Her hair is still damp, looking darker and more attractive. Her eyelashes are wet, her face moist and inviting kisses. But I know she needs to eat first. I dish dinner to each of us, and we begin to eat. Hermione devours her meal heartily, and it's clear she's starved herself throughout the day and burned enough calories to warrant her rapid pace.

Hermione is fat, she’s got red hair and she does not have what it takes. My eyes moved around the car. Hector rolled his eyes and switched off the video. Tiffany did the same after saying “Oh brother” under her breath. I was the only one watching the video now. “Get me into the sight. We need to tarnish her name. She does not get to be Daniella. I want Daniella. I must have it.” The video showed her typing something on the screen. “She will know never to mess with me.” Hector took my phone away from me and switched off the video.