My only complaint with the image is that Hermione and Ron's robes color don't match with their new houses colors, keeping the red Gryffindor.

Please add the music! It's so peak

What I find particularly interesting about Malfoid is that - it's not romantasy. It's not any of the genres that fanfic usually finds its way into. It's a wholesome, almost old-fashioned story not really like anything being written today.

"A love potion." Snape repeated flatly. "I didn't say the word love," replied back Draconia, "But yes, something of that nature." Snape sighed, but continued writing, not bothering to look up at her. "What symptoms are you experiencing?" "A quickening heart rate. Shakiness around the... suspect. Unusual emotional responses in the presence of the suspect. Intrusive thoughts of the suspect. Romantic ideation." Draconia's face blushed as she said the words aloud. "And who might the 'suspect' be?" "I don't see how that's relevan-" "Miss Malfoid, this is a very serious accusation. It is my responsibility as a professor to inquire fully. Who is it?" Snape finally set his papers aside, looking up at her from his desk. Draconia twiddled her wand in her fingertips, refusing to even look in his direction. "...Potter.", she said, pushing a lock of silver hair behind her ear. "Potter." Snape repeated. "T-that's what I said, isn't it?" "Potter can hardly brew a sleeping draught much less a-" "Then Granger brewed it! Or he stole it! I don't know! Can you just test me? Or something?" Snape stood up, seemingly annoyed by the whole ordeal. He turned, reaching into his cabinet of restricted potions, rustling through them, looking for something. "And why, pray tell, would Potter do this to you?" Her heart skipped a beat. She hadn't considered that. Why would he? Unless he... She shook her head, as if the thought could be shaken out of her. "To humiliate me, obviously. I bet he's having a grand laugh right now at my expense. Stupid Potter." She clenched her fists, indignant. Snape turned and produced a small potion of silver liquid. "Drink this. It will cure you of whatever may, or may not be ailing you." She swiped it from him and held it up to her lips, but paused. Why did she pause? Drinking this would cure her of the love potion, it would make these inconvenient feelings go away. So then why isn't she drinking it? She clenched her fists, and chugged the potion before she could second guess herself again. She stood there, eyes closed and cheeks pink, waiting for something to change. "How long until it starts to wor-" "Instantly." She stood there for several more seconds, holding her breath, until Harry appeared in her mind again, and her pulse quickened. Her eye twitched, "Well clearly this has been a huge waste of time." "Obviously." Snape said flatly, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly.

“A galleon on the dragon.” Crabbe leaned over, smugly. “Shut up Crabbe,” Draconia Malfoid replied, clasping her hands together. A cannon erupted, and Potter appeared, with his messy black hair and his perpetually-cracked glasses, waving to the crowd. The dragon didn’t give him a beat, slamming its tail in his direction. He rolled out of the way, and Draconia yelped involuntarily. Goyle was laughing like an idiot beside her. Didn’t she know this was real? “Accio Firebolt!” Potter shouted, and nothing happened. The dragon roared, blowing fire in all directions, straining against the chain that held it to the ground. Even from here, in the stands, the heat was almost unbearable. Potter leapt behind a rock, hiding himself from the flame. The dragon pressed harder, blowing more flame in his direction, its spines standing on end. Suddenly, a broom shot into the arena, and Potter jumped onto it. The crowd erupted, chanting his name. Draconia had to bite back the urge to chant alongside them. Harry was showboating again, flying circles around the dragon. She rolled her eyes, smiling to herself. “Typical Potter, cheating again.” said Goyle, with a mouthful of popcorn. “Shut up Goyle.” The chain snapped. Harry nearly fell off his broom in surprise as the dragon leapt up to bite at him. He zipped around the arena, the dragon hot on his tail, blasts of fire in every direction. The dragon swooped near the crowd, and hundreds ducked. Draconia frantically looked around for Dumbledore. Why isn’t anyone doing anything? Potter and the dragon continued to race, each bite and breath of flame just barely missing him. He flew over the stands, headed away from the crowd and towards Hogwarts. The crowd was completely silent, and all she could hear were flaps of dragon wings, fading into the distance. Without thinking, she started pushing through the people beside her to exit the stands. Running down the stairs, her mind racing faster than her feet, bumping into people on her way out of the arena. Her legs carried her as fast as she could go, the cold wind biting at her face as she ran through the grass toward the front gate of Hogwarts. Harry and the dragon outpaced her, and she lost track of them as they continued their pursuit in between the high towers of Hogwarts. Draconia reached the front gate, panting. She looked up and gasped. Harry had been knocked from his broom, scrambling on an outcropping with his broom out of reach. The dragon landed with a massive thud, and began slithering up the tower, its claws digging into the brick as it sniffed out its prey. Draconia pulled out her wand, aiming it at the dragon. Her hands were shaking. She knew the words, her father had taught them to her. It’s not unforgivable to save a life, is it? “AVADA KEDA-“ “EXPELLIARMUS!” Her wand snapped out of her hand, landing in the grass. She spun around in a rage to see Professor Moody, pointing his wand at her. “Don’t interfere, girl.” “How dare you!” she shrieked, jumping towards her wand. Moody was faster, wrapping his arms around her, holding her in place. “Let me GO!” she shouted, struggling against his hold, kicking her feet and screaming. “Watch, girl.” Harry was on his broom again, outrunning the dragon. But he wasn’t as fast as he was before. The dragon was getting closer, nipping at the back of his broomstick with each flap of its wings. They were headed towards the bridge. Draconia squirmed out of Moody’s grasp, and leapt towards her wand, landing in the mud. She snatched it, rolled over, and aimed at the dragon hundreds of yards away. “STUPEFY!” Harry threaded the needle between the arches of the bridge, and the dragon stumbled in its attempt to follow, knocking itself against the hard stone. It shrieked in pain, slamming its head into the arches before spiraling into the chasm below. “YES!” Draconia squealed, feeling relief wash over her. Moody gave her a contemptuous glare with that freakish false-eye of his. “Come with me," Professor Moody growled, yanking her by the arm. She was so relieved she didn’t even care. From behind, she could hear the entire arena erupt in cheers. They walked through the empty halls of Hogwarts in silence. Draconia couldn’t stop smiling to herself. Everyone else was away, watching the first task. Filch and his mangy cat were probably the only ones here, she thought. Moody took a drink of his flask. He was always doing that, drinking on the job. Another thing she’d have to tell her father about, how far Hogwarts has fallen to allow drunks to teach. Moody’s steps were belabored and uneven, and his false eye darted around in seeming paranoia. Eventually, they reached his office. “Sit down.” he said, gruffly. She did, choosing not to say anything. Moody looked down at her ‘Potter stinks’ badge. “Made those yourself, did you?” “I most certainly did not.“ “Happy to wear something with his name on it. Hm? Is that it?” “Excuse m-“ “Quiet. Dumbledore asked me to look after Potter. And the last thing he needs is some lovesick harpy meddling in the tournament, understand?” “I tried to save him!” she shouted incredulously, standing as she did. How dare this brutish, ugly, vulgar, piece of- Moody flicked his wand, and she was thrust back into her chair. “You just as easily could’ve killed him. Then what, hm? You think of that? If that spell went a wee bit to the left and struck Mr. Potter?” “I-“ “Think you can aim a spell with any accuracy from 500 yards, do you?” She opened her mouth to respond, but couldn’t find the words. “The killing curse as a first resort. You’re just like your father,” he continued. She stayed silent. She really could’ve killed him. It would’ve been all her fault. “I didn’t mean to.” she said, meekly. “How do you think Mr. Potter would feel if he were to find out about this? Think he’d approve of you attempting to use the spell that killed his parents?” “I was only trying to-“ “It doesn’t matter. Stay away from Potter.” “What?!” “You heard me. Whether you want to kiss him or curse him, he’s better off without you.” Draconia’s jaw dropped in shock. The sheer audacity of this cretin to speak to her this way. She inhaled and exhaled slowly, composing herself as she stood. “If that’s all, Professor, I will be going now,” she said, with ice in her voice. Moody took another swig of his flask. “Tell your father Professor Moody sends his regards.” She bit her tongue and stood, storming out of the office. Moody only stared at her with that freakish eye of his as she did. Anger bubbled inside her. How dare he. This ugly creature thinks he can tell her what to do. This freak thinks he can lord his meager school authority over her? Her father would hear about this. Her father would take care of him. Her shoes clicked against the marble floor as she strode down the hallway. She entered the girl’s bathroom, brushing the dried mud on her robes onto the floor. Draconia approached the sink, standing before a broken mirror, and bent down to wash the dirt from her face. “Stay away from Potter?” she muttered, looking up to glare at herself in the cracked glass. Never.