Chapter Text
“Please don’t make me do this, there has to be another way,” I beg Kingsley while waving the parchment that showed up at my window this morning. “You can’t honestly expect me to marry him, reformed or not, we’re just not a suitable match; we were never even really friends.”
I’ve been trying to make the same arguments for an hour, and Kingsley’s irritation is showing as he simply pushes the parchment away from him and crosses his arms. He leans back against his desk, giving me a look as if I’m a child throwing a senseless tantrum. “I cannot make exceptions to the law, if you wish to appeal, you will have to go through the proper steps and–”
“Please,” I cut him off desperately, dropping to my knees in what I know is a last attempt at trying to plead my case. “Please don’t make me do this, I am begging you.”
He gives me a sad look, pushing away from his desk and walking towards me. He grabs me by the elbows and gently drags me to my feet, rubbing circles on my arm with his thumb before he speaks. “I’m sorry, Hermione. There’s no other choice. You either accept the match,” he pauses and forces me to meet his eyes before continuing in an even softer voice than before. “Or you give up your wand.”
He blurs before me as I finally allow my tears to spill from my eyes, shaking my head. “He’ll never accept this match,” I whisper. “Kingsley, he’ll find a way to get rid of me, you know I’m not his type. I’m not a pureblood, his family won’t approve, and neither will he and–”
“He’s already agreed,” Kingsley cuts me off softly. “Draco has changed a lot from the boy you knew. He is a good man, Hermione.”
“I don’t want to do this,” I croak, shaking my head, my fists clenched at my sides. “I can participate in the repopulation law another way, if you just look at my proposal again–”
He shakes his head, turning away and walking back to his desk. “No, Hermione. Children need two parents–”
“There are children who don’t even have one parent! Why can’t I just adopt?”
“I’ve already told you why; we need more magical children born. Our race is going to die out–”
“You know that’s impossible–”
“No, Hermione. No, I will not exempt you from the law. No, you will not find a sperm donor and bring a child into an untraditional home. Just because it works for the Muggles, doesn’t mean it will work here. There are traditions in the Wizarding world that need to be upheld, I will not allow your untraditional upbringing to divert the customs and traditions we’ve upheld for many generations.”
“Things need to change, Kingsley! You can’t tell me all these traditions and customs have been wholly good for–”
“This discussion is over,” he snaps, turning around and glaring at me. “Even if I were to say yes to any of your ridiculous ideas, nobody else on the Wizengamot would agree. No, Hermione. You can either marry Draco Malfoy or you can give up your wand and go back to living your Muggle life.”
I stand frozen, not knowing what else I can say.
When I’d gotten the slip of parchment with Draco Malfoy’s name on it as my supposed perfect match, I’d been confident that he would also disagree and maybe Kingsley would not want to alienate someone from the Sacred 28, who also happens to donate a lot of galleons to many departments and causes since the war. Malfoy agreeing to the match completely throws my momentum and leaves me outnumbered.
I had honestly figured he wouldn’t want someone like me popping up on his family tree, tying my ‘dirty’ blood to his ‘pure’ one. Although we had moments where we were amicable in school – and a few moments where I could see a friendship blossoming if we spent more time together – I’d never go so far as to assume that we were friends or even accomplices now. We really just had a few people who ran in the same circles, and as long as Harry and Ron weren’t around, he would be cordial in an indifferent-couldn’t-care-about-you-more-or-less-than-I-already-do way. Usually, if we were in the same room, we’d maybe exchange a few words, but I couldn’t even look him in the eye most of the time, and he was always stiff and distant.
“If you find another match in the next week, we can match Mr.Malfoy with someone else,” Kingsley says encouragingly.
I snort, shaking my head and wiping my face.
“I heard Mr.Theodore Nott proposed to you just last week in the Atrium, and you said no. Perhaps revisiting that wouldn’t be a bad idea if you’re so opposed to your match with Mr.Malfoy.”
“That was hardly a proposal, we’re just friends,” I say with a glare. “He deserves to find happiness with someone he can love, not to be tied down with someone just because he doesn’t want them to be in a shitty position.”
Kingsley hums, sighing before sitting behind his desk and clasping his hands in front of him. “I would recommend you speak with Mr.Malfoy, maybe come up with an acceptable contract for your relationship and set expectations. The sooner you provide an heir, the sooner you can live separate lives. It isn’t uncommon in some families to live in separate homes after familial duties are completed.”
“I won’t give him an heir,” I snap. “I will not sleep with him; the only way he gets an heir out of me under your law is if he forces himself on me.”
Kinglsey sighs, “The law states you have two years to provide an heir or you’ll both be sent to Azkaban for five years, pending a new match until an heir is successfully produced. A lot can happen in two years, Hermione. He speaks rather fondly of you.” He flips through a file on his desk before grabbing his quill and signing the file. “I cannot promise that the next match will be different or better than what you’re getting right now. If you cannot bring yourself to love him, then maybe establish a friendship or treat this as a business arrangement. There are things you could both gain from such an arrangement if you work together and set expectations.”
I sit on the loveseat in the center of the room, hugging my middle. I try to search my brain for anything else I can say, anything I can bargain with, but after two hours of this I’ve used everything I can think of.
After fighting in a battle as a teenager, after surviving him, after losing my parents trying to reverse the damage from erasing their memories, after pulling myself out of the depths of my depression, I can’t believe this is what’s next for me. Being told to choose between a loveless marriage or losing my magic; they might as well have asked me to kill myself.
“I won’t forgive you for this,” I say finally. I look at him, and I’m shocked to see that he’s giving me a sad look as he nods.
“I know,” he murmurs softly. “Harry said the same thing, but I’m hopeful that magic knows best and this will be for the best. I hope one day you’ll forgive me, but if you find you cannot forgive me in this lifetime, then I hope you can at least find happiness in your circumstances.” He stands and walks around his desk slowly, kneeling before me and clasping my hands between both of his. “You deserve the best in this world. I think Draco could make you content, if you only give him a chance. Talk to him. Feel him out. He might surprise you.”
“Just because he’s a good man in general, doesn’t mean he’ll be good for me.”
“Get to know him, Hermione. He’s really the boy you remember him being.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, holding his dark eyes before straightening up and wiping my hands on my jeans, grabbing my coat from where I’d draped it on the arm of the chaise and pulling it on. I’d made my decision weeks ago, when the law was first passed, and I know Kingsley knew about it. He’d seen me making preparations. Today was just a last effort.
“I quit, effective immediately,” I say, keeping my tone neutral, arms clasped in front of me and my chin held high despite my face feeling puffy from all the crying I have done over the past few hours – even before I’d shown up in his office.
He sighs, straightening his robes and nodding. “I figured as much. Are you certain with your decision, Miss Granger? Perhaps take some time to think things through before making this decision? I thought your goal was to eventually take over my job as Minister.”
“I never intended to become Minister, I only wished to serve one who was good and would bring change to our world. Unfortunately, I do not think that is you, Minister Shacklebolt.”
I do not wait for his response, pulling a folder out of my beaded bag and holding it out to him. “I gathered a list of candidates suitable to take over my position, you’ll find them enclosed here. Have a good evening, Minister.”
With that, I turn on my heels and walk out of his office, closing the door behind myself. I walk the few steps to my desk and grab the few belongings I kept here – a picture of Crookshanks and I when I was a teenager, my planner, umbrella, and a few pens (because Quills are inconvenient sometimes). Once I have gathered my belongings, I make my way out of the Ministry, ignoring the storm building within me.
Chapter Text
Following my conversation with Kingsley, I decided a trip to the bookstore might cheer me up, and so I made my way to the apparition point and apparated to an alley a few blocks from my favorite bookstore in Muggle London. Since the end of my messy relationship with Ron, I’ve avoided most of the Wizarding World to avoid the curious gazes of every witch and wizard wondering about what happened to the ‘Golden Trio’. Rita Skeeter’s articles haven’t helped in calming things down over the past two years.
After picking a dozen books – including two cookbooks – I walk back to the apparition point and apparate to my house, landing just inside the front door and stepping out of my muddy shoes before walking further into my too quiet house. With a sigh, I set my two paper bags of books down on the entry table, knocking some mail off the table that I decided to ignore, and making my way up the stairs to wallow like I want to. Halfway up the stairs, I decide wine might help and with a flick of my wrist, I send a bottle flying into my hand, followed by a glass into my other hand.
I prepare a warm, bubbly bath, submerging myself until just my neck and head is above the bubbles, and sip from my wine, contemplating the last few years and wondering just how it is that I wound up in a situation where I’m expected to marry Draco Malfoy or give up my magic.
After the war, I had lived with the Weasley’s for about three years while trying to adjust to life when there wasn't a constant threat to our lives or Horcruxes to find or Harry to keep alive. Fleur and Bill helped me keep busy and helped me with my research to reverse the spell I used to make my parents forget they ever had a daughter. After trying for three months with no success in reversing the spell, I gave up lest I risk causing permanent damage to their neurological health – as recommended by over a dozen mind healers. Instead, Fleur and Bill helped with planting small memories in their heads; they took some of my memories from my childhood and placed them in their subconscious, so they’d remember some of the bond we had. They don't remember they're my parents, but they do think of me as a close friend of many years, and we keep in touch. It's not at all how I envisioned my relationship with my parents ever being, but it was better than nothing. I liked knowing what they were up to, especially now that they'd retired and were travelling the world.
Ron and I were together for nearly three years after the war. We were okay at first, but I always felt like I was with him because it was what was expected. Harry expected us to be together after the war, and we were such good friends our entire childhoods, that I kind of thought it was the next step too. I’d loved Ron, truly, but I don’t think I loved him in the way that a lover should. Still, he was going through a difficult time, and I didn’t have anywhere else to go, and so I tried to be the supportive girlfriend while he grieved the death of his brother. I figured once we were both in better places, we’d talk about it and part amicably.
Some nights, he would wake up panting and screaming, holding his wand up like someone was going to barge into the room and Avada us. I would tell him I was there; remind him the battle was over and that he was safe. At first, he would simply nod and then go back to sleep. After a few months though, he would roll over and start kissing me, pushing himself onto me and telling me he regretted that I lost my virginity to Harry during the war when Ron had left us. Over and over, he'd say how it should've been him while he fucked me. I usually didn't say anything, letting him get it off his chest and waiting for him to fall asleep so I could crawl out of bed and clean myself up.
While I didn’t regret having sex with Harry (after all, we did think we were going to die either at the hands of snatchers or during the battle, and we didn’t see Ron returning at all), I hated the tension and paranoia it left Ron with. If I was alone with Harry for even a minute, even if it was in an absurd place like the kitchen, Ron’s entire mood would change and he’d spend the remainder of the day pouty and angry.
Six months after the war, and Harry was working at the ministry as an Auror, the trials for the captured Death Eaters were well under way, Ron was working with George at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, and I had started a position working at the Muggle Relations office. Harry had mentioned in passing that Draco Malfoy’s trial was coming the following week, and that they were considering life in Azkaban for him. His father had already been sentenced to a life sentence, and his mother had to serve three years of probation.
The day of Draco’s trial, I'd shown up to testify on his behalf, shocking not only everyone in the Wizengamot, but Harry, Ron and myself. Harry testified on behalf of Draco, but Ron testified against him. Everyone turned to me as the final piece to sway the decision either way, and I testified for Draco to not be punished for his father's crimes or for trying to survive in a war the only way he knew how. Ron resented my choice; that was the first time I'd seen him truly angry with me.
Draco served a year in Azkaban, a year of probation, and went on to further his education. Somehow, Harry and Draco ended up working together in the Auror department two years ago and had formed one of the best teams. Harry didn't talk much about Draco, especially around Ron, but the Daily Prophet released a lot of photos and praising articles of their successful raids as they continued to hunt for the Death Eaters who'd escaped the battle and were on the run. To this day, there were roughly twenty Death Eaters left on the loose - unless they were successful in recruiting new members.
On my and Ron’s two-year anniversary, everyone was buzzing. The always noisy house was even more so, and Molly was bustling around smiling and hugging me and telling me how much she loved me. I was nervous about what it could mean; Harry and Ginny had gotten engaged only a few months prior, and everyone seemed to think me and Ron were next, but I wasn't ready. I loved Ron, but it didn't feel like I was in love with him. I dreaded coming home from work, had broached the subject of us going our separate ways on multiple occasions - which he always laughed about and would simply say ‘no’ to - and had even applied to jobs in other countries with the hopes of leaving England behind, even though I had already started working as Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt’s secretary.
When Ron proposed during our weekly family dinner, I froze. He was on his knee before me, smiling and blushing, holding the small ring out to me in his hand and everyone was watching for my reaction. I could hear my heartbeat in my head, so loud that I didn't hear anything he said. Ron’s smile had faded slowly, and I was hardly aware of everyone exiting the room to give us privacy. He’d stood and pulled me to my feet, his blue eyes piercing my own angrily.
“Do not embarrass me, Hermione,” he'd nearly growled. “Say yes.”
I'd shook my head, tears in my eyes. “I'm so sorry,” I’d whispered.
He'd smiled a cynical smile, shoving the ring onto my finger and roughly kissing my forehead before giving my wrist a squeeze. “Asking was a formality, Mione. This was always going to be the next step for us. You're mine.” He’d grabbed my chin between his fingers and wiped my tears from my eyes. “Look happy when they walk in. Don't ruin the night for everyone, my mom worked hard on this dinner. You owe us after you failed to save Fred.”
Our engagement night was the first time he'd hurt me. He had gotten drunk and as soon as the door was closed behind him, he'd back handed me. His blue eyes were glassy, and his skin was flushed from the whiskey. I'd landed on my ass, gripping my cheek as I stared up at him. He'd simply scoffed and gone to lay down, snoring through the night while I cried quietly in the small bathroom for hours.
After that it became routine. If I came home too late from work, if Harry and I had talked alone for too long or shared an inside joke, if I wasn't in the mood for sex, when I cut my hair to my shoulders and hadn't run it by him, if I forgot to bring home his whiskey. The worst was the night I'd danced with Viktor Krum at a charity ball that was raising funds to expand St. Mungo’s. I actually thought he might kill me that night. By the time he was done, I had two broken ribs, a broken nose, bruises on my abdomen and back, a black eye, and a soreness between my legs that didn't go away for days. I’d healed myself the best I could in the small bathroom at the Burrow while everyone else slept.
I’d received an invitation from Viktor to join him in Bulgaria, claiming he could see I was unhappy, and he was happy to give me an escape, even if only temporarily. I’d burned the letter before Ron could see, even though a big part of me wanted nothing more than to pack my bags and go to him regardless of whether it was a temporary reprieve or my ticket out. I didn’t want to drag anyone into our situation, especially when I felt Ron had every right to be angry with me for my shortcomings, and an even deeper part of me felt the punishment was truly based on my shortcomings with my family.
Ron and I were engaged for eight months.
In the fall, an article came out exposing Ron’s infidelity. I was relieved; I packed my bags, left my ring on the table and found a place to live that was just mine. I set wards so he wouldn't be allowed in, and I focused on my work, doing everything in my power to avoid him. Apparently, he'd been hooking up with Lavender Brown for months, and she was six months pregnant with his child when the article came out. They got married a month before the birth of their son, Felix. The war had left the side of her face and neck scarred, but Ron had always loved the attention she gave him. She worshiped the very ground he walked on, made him feel like a king and not like he was just a third of the Golden Trio.
I did therapy, distanced myself from the Weasley family, and focused on my career. I had a lot of ideas I wanted to bring to reality to advance not just the wizarding community but close the enormous gap with the Muggle community as well. Harry still tried to be a friend, but it was hard to be his friend when he was so close to Ron and defended Ron’s every choice, including his infidelity. While I was relieved that I didn’t have to marry Ron, Harry seemed to place the blame on me for not being there for Ron and giving too much attention to my work when we all knew Ron was “a bit insecure” and “required a lot of attention”. I attended one dinner at the Burrow after I’d moved out, only to have to hear Molly speak of how disappointed she was that our engagement “fell through”, but how happy she was that she had finally gotten a grandbaby to dote on.
Harry and I tried having lunch once a week in the Ministry cafeteria, although most of the time it was a silent affair. On a few occasions, Ron had tagged along, and I felt like I couldn’t breathe in his presence. Like his hands were still on me, suffocating me and taking things from me and pinching and squeezing and bruising me. I always ended up sick afterwards, crying and emptying my stomach contents before cleaning myself up and forcing myself to continue with my work. Harry kept trying to rebuild the friendship we all had together, and I didn’t have the heart to tell him I would never be able to see Ron as someone I could trust with my friendship again.
My phone ringing snaps me out of my head, and I jolt up in the tub, splashing water out the sides as I lean over the top and peek at my phone sitting on the small stool I keep beside the tub.
Theo’s name is flashing on my screen and I sigh, using wand less magic to answer the call and place it on speaker.
“Well hello there princess, you will never guess what I just heard!” Theo’s enthusiastic voice booms through the speaker. “A little birdie told me that a certain Golden Girl is getting married to none other than the most eligible and richest bachelor.”
“Wait, what? Who told you?? I just got the news this morning!”
“The Daily Prophet uploaded a list of everyone's matches, and yours is the headline, baby!” His voice deepens as he takes on a dramatic posh accent before continuing. “Golden Girl and Death Eater: Matched.” He laughs maniacally. “I can't wait to have my two favorite people in the same room.”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I shriek, hanging up the call and dragging myself out of the tub. After getting dressed in comfortable pajamas and pulling my hair in a bun, I grab the ingredients for a daiquiri and get to mixing, having already finished my bottle of wine.
I knew the news of the match was going to get out, especially with everyone in the country being dragged into it. I just didn’t expect it would be so soon, I mean seriously, not even twenty-four hours had passed! I was hoping I’d have some time to piece everything together in my head and come up with a plan of sorts to navigate around the law, maybe do some research to see if there was a legitimate way out of it, before I had to confront the world knowing I was matched to Draco fucking Malfoy of everyone in the bloody country.
I down my first drink in one go, immediately preparing another.
Notes:
I'm back (:
Took a break to grieve a death in the family and decided to do some edits since I realized I had left some things out I really wanted to include in the story. I hope you guys stick with me! I've got a few chapters done, so updates should be pretty regularly. I'm hoping once a week at the least, and am thinking of Thursday nights as of right now. Thank you to anyone who takes the time to read, I appreciate your time and hope you enjoy the little story I have to share with you guys.
As usual, I appreciate every comment, kudos and bookmark!
-Gen
Chapter 3: Chapter 3
Chapter Text
How the fuck does one impress a witch like Hermione Granger?
I don't know her favorite flowers or if she even likes flowers. Jewelry? I already had three engagement ring options, maybe a necklace to go with them would be a good addition? Or earrings? Perhaps a bracelet? Should I buy her a villa? A cottage? Build a garden in her honor? Maybe I could find a dragon egg and help her to raise it? Does she even like magical creatures or is she only into Muggle pets?
I'm fucked. I'm truly, thoroughly fucked.
I sit at my desk, staring at the piece of parchment before me, willing it to give me the answer I'm looking for. But the parchment still says the same thing:
Ideal Pairing: Hermione J. Granger
23 year old female, Muggle born.
What the fuck does the J in her name even stand for? I never heard anyone use her middle name and assumed she simply didn't have one. Does she even want this match? No, I doubt it. We were never close, although we did sometimes find ourselves in the others’ presence. Sometimes it was on purpose, but she doesn’t need to know that now of course, it was just a coincidence. Casual, just as it has been the past few months when I’ve tried to initiate conversation with her at work events or the two times I ran into her in the Ministry lifts. Of course, she can’t even look at me and keeps her chin tucked whenever she acknowledges my attempts at conversation.
But it’s fine, really, I am a patient man and while I know I was a shitty person in my youth, I have been doing everything in my power to clean up my image and do right in the world. I served the time for my crimes – much less than I expected – and have made many donations to charities and even individual families affected by my family’s involvement (or lack of involvement in some cases) during the war. I have gone to therapy, I have seeked out many of the people I had wronged – including Harry Potter himself – and I have done everything in my power to clean up the family name. Hermione Granger was on my list of people to make amends with, but every time I had gone up to her with the intention to do just that, I found myself incapable of speaking more than a few dumb words when she couldn’t even look at me and seemed ashamed to be near me. She’s always the first person to rush out of events, never sticking around for more than an hour or two, even when she’s shown up on Theo’s arm.
I was shocked when he brought up the topic of proposing to her when he’d visited me just two weeks ago. I had seen them together in the past, and knew they were close friends, but I had never gotten the impression they were anything more than that. And maybe I haven’t come that far in my healing, because I was relieved when she turned him down. Thankfully, Theo didn’t seem upset or let down by her rejection, he’d later even confessed to me that he had proposed the same way (with the same ring) to Pansy the day before, saying he didn’t want either of them to end up in a match with someone who wouldn’t treat them with the respect they deserved to be treated with.
Kingsley flooed to my home last night, requesting a meeting to give me the news that he knew who I’d been matched with and wanted to ensure I wasn’t going to be a problem. Upon hearing Hermione’s name fall from his lips, I’d felt the pressure in my chest lessen. I’d been worried about who she would end up with too, and hearing that she was going to be mine, felt like a true blessing. This was my chance to make amends, to show her how sorry I am about everything in the past; the things I said, the things I did, the things I didn’t do because I was a coward.
I figured she wouldn’t want me, but I wanted her. I know I can treat her better than anyone else in the world can, and I can provide her with everything she needs. Money, protection, friendship, love…it’s all there, just waiting for her to grab onto it. I intended to be whatever she needed – an Auror to protect her from the werewolves hunting her, a friend, a partner, a lover. I wanted her when we were children, and I want her now in whatever capacity she will have me.
I mean seriously, ever since she punched me in the face all I could think about was wanting her hands on me again. I didn't care if she just wanted to punch me again, I would kneel before her and take it. I'd take whatever I could take to feel her hands on me again, especially back then. But she was never interested. No, she was only interested in Potter and the Weasel, and that short thing with that bumbling Bulgarian Krum. I don't know what she ever saw in that one, he looked as dull as a rock and didn't know how to hold a conversation. Not that I tried very hard to have conversations with him, but I was curious as to what she saw in him.
Fuck, I’m off track again. The end of the day is nearing, and I haven't even requested to see her. Should I take her on an extravagant date? Maybe I should arrange for dinner at my favorite restaurant in France? Do I still propose? Would she want to see me on one knee? Frankly, I'd get down on all fours for her, but would she like that? Do I show up uninvited at her home or should I schedule to see her somewhere public?
I place my head in my hands, trying not to pull my hair out at the roots. It shouldn't be this complicated to find a good gift for a woman or come with a plan on how to interact with said woman. I've dated before, I just have to do what I usually would do. Except, this is different. We're being told we have to get married; this isn't the traditional courting nor the quick relationships I make for a night or two of fucking before we go our separate ways. No, she has a reputation to maintain; she's a proper lady and should be treated as such.
Fuck. I need help.
I jump to my feet before I lose my nerve or change my mind, exiting my office and making my way to the training rooms where Potter is sure to be. I can feel more eyes on me than usual as I make my way down the corridor and I straighten my shoulders, keeping my chin high and glaring at anyone who gets in my way. Upon entering the only open training room, I spot Potter talking with Theo in the corner, nodding animatedly while making hand gestures. Theo throws his head back laughing, shaking his head.
I stroll up as casually as I can, clearing my throat. Both of them look at me with shit eating grins on their faces and I clench my fists at my sides. “I take it you've heard of who I've been matched with,” I mutter, choosing to get straight to the point.
“Oh, we've heard,” Theo chuckles, clapping me on the back.
“Great, so grow the fuck up and tell me what she likes. Somehow you two idiots have managed to become friends with her despite the lack of brain cells between the both of you.”
Potter rolls his eyes, scratching the facial hair covering his face. Over the past few years, he's allowed his facial hair to grow in which makes him look more competent for the job and not as child-like. He still wears the same stupid glasses, but at least they're not broken or dirty all the time anymore so it's a small improvement. Since getting married, he's also learned to dress himself and wears button ups and trousers, and sometimes he even manages to comb his hair.
“Insulting us isn't going to get you any favors,” Potter says with a smirk. “Besides, she's going to be your wife, shouldn't you know what she likes already?” he drawls sarcastically.
I glare. “I haven't spoken to her in years, something both of you are aware of.”
“Oi, come on, Potter, he's trying,” Theo cuts in. “I think the Golden Girl deserves a good gift from her soon to be husband since she's going to have to put up with him for the rest of her life.”
I flinch, closing my eyes against the words. She'll be stuck with me the rest of her life.
Fuck.
She probably expected a much better match. She must be so disappointed it's me she ended up with. An ex-Death Eater as a husband for the savior of the wizarding world. Everyone knows Potter and the Weasel wouldn’t have made it this far without her, she was the brains of the entire operation, especially after Dumbledore died.
Does she resent me? She testified on my behalf, but she never once looked at me. I still remember watching her through the bars in my cage, willing her to look at me just once. I needed her to know I was sorry; I knew I wasn’t going to make it long in Azkaban. A lot of people were angry at the Malfoy family for their role in Voldemort’s rise, and I was despised for my role in getting Death Eaters into Hogwarts. I might not have killed anyone, but I still had a lot of blood on my hands for those who were tortured and killed after the Carrows took over Hogwarts. I needed her to look at me once to tell her somehow how much I wish I could change the past, how much I wished I could’ve stayed out of the whole thing, how much I wished Potter’s spell had killed me in sixth year.
Instead, I got to stare at the side of her face while she talked so passionately about why I shouldn’t spend the rest of my life in Azkaban. Did she know somehow? Did she somehow know how many regrets I carried over those years? Did she know I wanted to save her when my psychotic aunt was torturing her, that I stepped forward and was lifting my wand, but my mother stopped me? Did she know that I still woke up sick sometimes with her screams echoing in my head? Did she know I still couldn’t step foot in the drawing room, even after it had been fully demolished and remodeled?
“Fine, but I’m only helping because it’s her,” Potter muttered, dragging my attention back to him and out of my memory of the girl with a golden haze. “She has a list at the library of books she’d like, she usually adds to it throughout the year, and we all buy from it on her birthday.”
“Books, Potter? That’s the best you can give me?” I scoff, shaking my head. “Everyone knows she likes books; I want something more personal than that to give her.”
He holds his hands up defensively, blushing. “Look, we haven’t spent as much time together since James was born. Our schedules keep us pretty busy in general, but I know she likes books.”
“And movie marathons with those fruity mixed drinks she makes,” Theo chimes in.
I turn my attention to him, furrowing my brow in confusion. “Movie marathons?”
“Oh, watching multiple films back-to-back. It’s how she usually spends her weekends when she’s got no other plans,” Theo shrugs, pulling his Muggle phone out of his pocket. “She also likes flowers on not-special occasions, she says it’s more surprising that way than when she receives them on her birthday or holidays. But not peace lilies because they remind her of funerals.”
“Alright, I will work with these very shitty ideas from her two very terrible friends,” I roll my eyes when Theo gives a mock shocked face while pocketing his phone.
“Malfoy,” Potter says sharply.
“What?” I snap, making to walk away and head back to my office.
“Hermione is important to me. Don’t hurt her or you’ll be dealing with me.”
“The same way you dealt with the Weasel after his little tryst?” I stalk up to him, towering over him and glaring down at him. “I would never hurt her or disrespect her, and I certainly wouldn’t befriend anyone who would hurt someone I cared for. It appears you can’t say the same.” I step back, noticing Theo out of the corner of my eye covering his mouth with his fist snickering.
“The circumstances were different,” Potter mutters dumbly. He takes a few steps back rubbing the back of his neck in that nervous way he has. “Just be good to her, yeah?”
He practically flees from the room without waiting for a response, and Theo kneels over with laughter.
“Oh, I think Potter might’ve just shit himself,” he splutters in between fits of laughter. I roll my eyes before stalking out of the training room, heading directly for my office with renewed determination to win her over.
She might not love me, fuck, she might not even like me right now. But I will do whatever it takes to win her over and show her what a real man should treat his woman like. She won’t have to worry about secret relationships going on behind her back, or secret pregnancies, or backstabbing friends and family members.
I will do whatever it takes to make this real.
Chapter 4: Chapter 4
Chapter Text
It's been a week since I got the owl delivering the parchment with my match, and I still hadn't seen Draco or left my house. Living in Muggle London, I got to enjoy the benefits of takeout delivery while I focused on looking for any legal way out of this match that wouldn't end up with me having to give up my wand or going to Azkaban. Although, so far all I’d managed to do was stress myself out about every change taking place in my life soon. I’d received an owl from the Minister himself stating that Draco and I’s “wedding” would be taking place in his office next week, at noon.
Sadly, a week of scouring every law book I could get my hands on - thanks to Percy who delivered via floo - and I still hadn't found any loophole. Given the extreme decrease in the population, it was completely legal, and it wasn't the first time this had happened.
I tried finding a way for Draco to fight this too, hoping that maybe pureblood customs would somehow be able to sway the Wizen Gamot into undoing the match, but at the rate things were going there'd only be a handful of pureblood families to be matched to each other, and most were already married off or they were too closely related.
And honestly, looking at all the stupid requirements and particulars under this law, just made me want to go back to the Ministry, specifically to punch Kingsley in the face. Repeatedly.
Emotional compatibility, personal fulfillment, and romantic preferences are deemed secondary considerations and do not make compelling cases for new matches or the termination of a marriage. Shocker.
All wizards between the ages of 21 and 40, and witches between 18 and 30 are eligible for pairing. Concerning, disgusting, and a plethora of other words could be – and have been – used to describe this.
Exceptions only granted in cases of permanent medical infertility. Could be arranged if I tried hard enough, although with magical healing medicine, anything I do could probably be reversed. There was already one case of a regrown uterus after one girl removed hers in the Muggle world following an arranged marriage to her fourth cousin.
All marriages will be registered and monitored closely by the Department of Repopulation Compliance (DRC). A waste of funds if there ever was one.
Arranged couples must reside in the same home. Bullshit.
The wife must take her husband’s name, in order to promote healthy families and encourage tradition. Again, bullshit. Having the same last name didn’t equal healthy families (as proven by Pansy’s family, and Theodore’s, and probably every pureblood family I’ve come across or heard things about).
Marriage must be consummated within six months of registration. Failure to consummate within the established period of time shall constitute Reproductive Noncompliance, Class I. Penalties include mandatory fertility testing, supervised bedding rituals, and counseling as seen fit by the Department of Repopulation Compliance. Problematic and disgusting. “Bedding rituals” doesn’t leave much to the imagination, and if it came to that, I’d rather die than be supervised during coital activities.
Married couples must produce at least one living child within two years of marriage registration. Failure to meet the requirement constitutes Reproductive Noncompliance, Class II. Penalty is imprisonment for 12-18 months, pending investigation. Again, problematic and quite rude.
Married couples must produce a minimum of two living children within five years of marriage registration. Failure to meet this requirement shall constitute Reproductive Noncompliance, Class III. Penalty is a mandatory incarceration for 3 years. Children produced after sentencing will not mitigate punishment.
Attempts to evade compliance shall be prosecuted as Population Sabotage. Individual autonomy does not supersede national survival interests. Really, really fucking rude and ridiculously discouraging.
So, after a week of fruitless research and more tears than recommended, I decided what I needed was a fun night out dancing and drinking in the Muggle world. And who better to do that with than Theo and Pansy.
A little over two years ago, I'd gone solo to a club in London and had been shocked to find the former Slytherins drunk at a booth laughing and dancing. Pansy and Astoria had literally been dancing on the table, Theo was whooping and blowing kisses, and Blaise had been staring adoringly at his then fiancé Astoria. I'd been so shocked by the sight of them at a Muggle club that I'd stared for nearly five minutes before Astoria caught sight of me and excitedly jumped off the table and dragged me over.
Theo and Astoria had talked all night about how they'd all been forced to take classes after the war on Muggles and how they had become intrigued with the world outside of magic and ventured into Muggle London to get first hand experience and feed their appetites. After a year, they'd become completely immersed in the world; they owned cellphones, televisions, radios, subscribed to multiple streaming services, and they even had a house they shared to vacation in the countryside. Astoria had gone to culinary school, Pansy had taken some fashion classes while also working at the ministry, Blaise had gotten a mixology license, and Theo had bragged about getting a fishing license in the state of Georgia when he went to visit an aquarium on a whim. It was refreshing seeing the wonder in their eyes at the things they once didn't understand - or resented - due to their upbringing.
I walk into the same club wearing a short black dress with thin straps and thin strapped heels. I crane my neck in search of any familiar faces and spot Theo walking towards me with his arms wide open. He twirls me in a hug before setting me down, giving me a crooked half smile that shows off his dimples.
“You look amazing,” he says over the music. He offers me an arm and I take it, allowing him to lead me to whatever both he's secured for us tonight.
“As do you,” I reply with a soft smile.
Theo has always held a sort of quiet intensity to him. With his loosely styled, curly dark hair and angular face with high cheekbones and a sharp jawline, he’s always been a dream to look at. Thick, expressive eyebrows frame green eyes that have a calm, self-possessed gaze that completely contradicts his wilder side. The beauty mark on his right cheek and the scar running from his left cheekbone to the bridge of his nose only adds to his beauty.
“Everyone else is already here, along with a few new friendly faces,” he continued as we rounded the corner of another booth. “Blaise and Astoria are here too, they don’t leave for France for a few more weeks.”
“We’ll have to visit once they’re all settled in,” I say conversationally. “Did you get matched?”
“Luna Lovegood,” he says with a grin, nodding. “Apparently my citizenship is in question though, so they kind of have us blocked from getting married until it can get sorted out. Due to some improper paperwork, I seem to have citizenship in America – because of my dear Mum, may she rest in Hell – and here. Figured that would keep them busy for a few months at least.”
I roll my eyes, even though I’m surprised his little trick worked. “I should’ve taken you up on your offer to do the same for me,” I mutter sarcastically.
“Ah, but it’s too late for that, Tesoro. However, you could always accept my proposal,” he offers with a wink over his shoulder. “I’m sure I could convince the Ministry to make an exception and allow me two beautiful wives.”
“A very generous offer, but you know we wouldn’t work out,” I counter.
He heaves a dramatic sigh, and I smile at his playful smile. “I guess I shall only have one lover, just like a commoner.”
“I suppose so,” I say with a giggle. “Have you spoken with Luna since Hogwarts?”
“Oh, yes, and she is absolutely delicious,” he answers excitedly.
“Delicious?” I ask, wrinkling my nose.
“Oh, you know, that thing where my mouth goes–”
“Nope, nope, not having this conversation, please forget I asked,” I cut him off with a laugh, squeezing his bicep to drive my point home. “It is okay to answer questions vaguely every once in a while, Theo, I didn’t need to–”
I freeze when we reach our table, stumbling over my feet and nearly falling on my face. Theo's hands wrap around my waist, steadying me, his front pressed to my back as a sort of barrier as if I might bolt – which I very well might. Distantly, I can hear him say my name but I don't respond.
I'm glued to my spot as I stare at Draco Malfoy, in a Muggle club, sitting in a booth with a cocktail and spinning the little tiny umbrella between his teeth as he nods along to whatever Pansy is talking about.
His platinum blonde hair is longer than he kept it in school, now in a textured fringe that’s short on the sides and long on the top, swept back. He's wearing a white button up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbow, showing off arms covered in tattoos down to his fingers. The top buttons of his shirt are undone, giving a peek at more tattoos beneath it and the Azkaban prisoner tattoo on the side of his neck. His face is still all sharp angles, but filled out in a way that doesn't look sickly like he did in sixth year and during his trials. The way he carries himself screams confident with a hint of rebellion.
Pansy says something and his attention shifts to me, grey eyes boring into me as he gets to his feet and walks towards Theo and I.
“What the fuck, Theo,” I mutter. “You didn't mention inviting him.”
“I know, I'm sorry, but I figured you would've bailed and honestly you might as well get the confrontation or whatever is going to go down with now, in a place where there’s alcohol readily available.” He rushes his sentence out as he softly pushes me forward, one hand still firmly on my hip.
We stop in front of Draco and his eyes shift from my face to Theo's hand on my hip, to his face, before settling back on me. Theo's hand drops and I fight the urge to fidget with my dress, regretting that I wore what Pansy calls my “get laid dress” tonight. Not that I was planning on leaving with anyone, but I wanted to enjoy a night feeling wanted and beautiful, and without any obligations.
“Granger,” Malfoy's voice cuts through the music and my thoughts sharply. His brows are furrowed and he's watching me like he's waiting for something.
“Sorry?” I say, looking at Theo beside me who's grinning from ear to ear like a clown. Part of me wants to hit him.
“He asked if you wanted a drink, Tesoro,” Theo snickers.
“Oh, um, yeah, I'll have a-”
“Strawberry-peach slushed daiquiri,” Draco finishes with ease. He gives me a small smile before nodding and walking towards the bar, Blaise following behind him after giving me a polite smile.
“What did you tell him?” I round on Theo, crossing my arms.
“Just what drinks you prefer and what bar food you like.” He holds his hands up, feigning fear even while smiling widely. “He just wants to get to know you, friends first and all that.”
I scoff, crossing my arms and walking the rest of the way to the booth before squeezing in beside Pansy. The booth is round, and I fidget as I wonder where Draco’s going to sit when Theo makes his way to the bar with the guys. Astoria is sitting on Pansy’s other side, near the middle of the booth with a drink already in her hand (although it’s nearly empty), scrolling through her phone. Draco’s drink is directly in front of me and I fight the urge to move it, choosing instead to focus on Luna who's sitting just a bit away from Astoria, clearly leaving room for Blaise who is walking back with Theo and Draco now. Theo slides in next to Luna and places his arm on the back of the bench, his fingers brushing her shoulder while he leans in to speak into her ear.
“This is going to be so much fun,” Pansy says sarcastically, taking a sip from her drink and winking at me over the rim.
Draco
After ordering Hermione's drink and a basket of mozzarella sticks, I wait at the counter for a few minutes with Blaise, nervously tapping the counter with my family ring. I spent the last week trying to learn everything that I could about Muggle technology, accepting Astoria and Theo's help with using a cellphone, installing multiple televisions in my home, paying for something called streaming services to watch things, and even adding some Muggle appliances throughout the manor to prepare for her to move in when we're inevitably married. I wanted her to be as comfortable as possible and know that my home was hers.
What I wasn't prepared for, however, was how overstimulating going to a Muggle club would be. The music is too loud, the building too crowded with too many sweaty bodies, the strobe lights are overwhelming, and to top it off Granger chose to wear the tiniest piece of clothing I'd ever seen her wear. I didn't even think the ridiculous scrap of clothing could be called a dress.
I haven't seen her up close in so many years, and it took me a while to figure out how to use my tongue to say anything. Her brown eyes were rimmed in smoky dark makeup that made her eyes pop against the fairness of her skin, accentuated by her arched eyebrows and long lashes. Her full lips were glossy with a rosy tint, drawing more attention to how plump and kissable they were. She wasn’t wearing any jewelry aside from silver stud earrings, but it was still difficult to keep my eyes solely on her face and not notice her cleavage that was desperately trying to spill out the square neckline of her satin black dress.
“You seem nervous,” Blaise comments beside me, grabbing his and Astoria’s drink.
I grab Hermione's drink and the mozzarella stick basket, nodding. “I haven't had a conversation lasting more than five minutes with her since we were in school. I'm not sure what I'm even supposed to say now, or how to broach the subject of our upcoming nuptials.”
Blaise nods, pursing his lips as we walk towards the booth where they're sitting. “Yeah, I can't help you there, mate.”
I nod, setting the drink in front of Hermione along with the appetizer basket before scooting into the booth beside her. She tenses when I sit, and I make a small adjustment so I'm not sitting as close. She's sitting half turned towards Pansy, but she slides my drink closer to me and gives me a tentative half smile before reaching for her own drink.
“Thank you,” she says softly. She bites her lip, looking down as she grips the cup with both hands.
“Of course,” I reply, too fast and way too eagerly. I glance around the table, trying to figure out what the next step is. Astoria and Luna are having a conversation I can't hear, but both Blaise and Theo have their arms casually around their witches.
Should I do the same? Am I allowed to touch her? Does she want me to touch her like that? We still haven't spoken about the whole marriage situation, how the fuck do I approach this?
Okay, I'm overthinking. This is a casual setting, surely it'll be fine?
I try to casually bring my arm to rest on the seat behind her, but even I can tell my movements are stiff. I watch her as she nods along while Pansy tells her about a recent raid they had, but I catch the moment she tenses and scoots forward slightly when she feels my arm behind her. Her leg is bouncing at a ridiculous pace under the table and she gulps down her drink in just a few sips, clumsily setting the glass down and nearly knocking mine over in the process.
Maybe I'm making her nervous? I can only think of a few occasions where we were this close, and it had almost always been initiated and led by her. The first being when she’d sent her first flying into my face, followed by a few secret meetings in the library, empty classrooms and a few alcoves. Nothing improper, of course, I was and still am a gentleman. But we had an understanding then of our…occasions…and semi-clear boundaries. This is wholly new.
I lean forward, trying to come up with anything casual to say when she jumps at my advance, her knee hitting the table roughly. She looks at me over her shoulder, her body still angled towards Pansy, skin paling and her eyes wide with...not nerves.
Fuck.
She’s scared of me. Of course she’s scared of me, she was an angel in battle against the demons I worked for. I was an inconsiderate ass to her in school, always trying to put her down in public because she was so effortlessly good and excelled at everything. And yes, we might’ve gotten along well enough in quiet spaces, away from everyone, but that doesn’t wipe the slate clean when it comes to everything I put her through. I don't deserve to be in the same room as her, breathing her air, wanting to learn more about her, wanting her. She deserves better than a coward ex Death Eater and convict.
I instantly pull my arm away, standing to give her the space she so desperately wants.
I can feel everyone at the table watching us, but I keep my eyes on her, waiting to see what she needs from me.
I'm not going to hurt you. Please let me atone for all my mistakes, you're my salvation. I need to wipe that fear from your eyes, please tell me what I need to do.
None of the words I want to say come out, and we just stare at each other. Her eyes are shiny with unshed tears, and a knot clenches my stomach so tightly, I feel my knees weaken and a strange urge to vomit.
“Hermione, can you help me in the bathroom?” Astoria's soft voice cuts through the tension and silence. She steps in front of me, but she's short enough to where my view of Hermione isn't blocked.
Hermione jumps to her feet quickly, nodding and speed walking past me. I watch Astoria and her walk away, disappearing into the thick crowd.
“Don't take it personal, Draco,” Pansy says softly. “She was like that with us too those first few months, it's probably residual trauma from the war.”
Theo nods, giving me one of his pitying looks.
“She'll come around, you just have to show her you can be soft. Your hands were always quite good at healing if I remember correctly,” Luna says absently. She watches me for a minute before smiling softly. “You'll fix it for her.”
“Fix what?” I've never much liked the curious way she talks like everything is a mystery to be solved. She has always been too innocent, and I certainly didn't expect her to make it through the war, especially after Bellatrix got a hold of her. I tried to sneak her a potion to take her own life, but she'd refused, claiming help would be coming soon. I guess it's a good thing I couldn't convince her she was wrong or she wouldn't be sitting here today making my best friend look like cupid shit him in the ass.
“She seems to have a lot of misconceptions about love,” she says with a shrug. “You can teach her.”
I scoff, slipping back into the booth, but this time taking a seat beside Theo so I'll be across from her instead of beside her. If she even comes back now, I’ve probably ruined the whole night for her, first by showing up and then by daring to sit beside her.
“She could never love me,” I mutter, mostly as a reminder to myself.
“Give it some time,” Blaise says. “She's been through a lot with that cheating knucklehead.”
I nod, tapping my ring on the table as I wait for Hermione to come back.
***
When Hermione and Astoria return to the booth a few minutes later, Hermione's eyes are slightly puffy and she's avoiding even looking in my direction. Astoria sits next to her, giving me an apologetic look. I give her a small smile, shaking my head to let her know it's okay.
An hour later, all the witches have had way too much to drink. Hermione is flushed pink from the liquor and her eyes have a hazy gleam to them as she claps her hands on the table, smiling so wide I'm shocked it doesn't hurt. She’s given me a few shy smiles, reminding me of fourth and fifth year when we’d argue in the library.
“I love this song, come dance with me!” She stands on the bench, clumsily standing on the table before hopping off to run off to the dance floor. Luna follows her, spinning and twirling herself. Pansy and Astoria both clumsily make their way over, holding onto each other and laughing.
I watch with Blaise and Theo, arms crossed over my chest. Hermione sways her hips to the music, stretching her arms over her head and closing her eyes with a smile grazing her lips. She's glowing under the strobe lights, making it impossible for me to keep my eyes off her. When she starts grinding her ass against Pansy’s front with Astoria grinding her own to Hermione's front I choke on my saliva.
“What the fuck?”
Theo chuckles. “Muggle dancing, Granger taught them years ago. Why do you think I nicknamed her Tesoro? She is a treasure to our group.”
“That is dancing?” I ask incredulously, shifting to hide the growing tent in my trousers. I never in my life thought I'd see Hermione Granger moving in such a provocative manner, especially in a public place or with the girl I lost my virginity to.
Astoria twirls away from Hermione, grabbing Luna's hands and spinning in a circle with her. Hermione leans forward slightly, still grinding on Pansy and her dress rises, exposing the curve of her uncovered ass before straightening back up and spinning away.
The front of my pants are at risk of ripping with the strain of my cock in them. Would she dance like that with me? No, of course not, that would be ridiculous.
She can't even stand you, I think to myself.
The song finishes and the witches make their way back, laughing and giggling drunkenly.
Hermione's eyes lock on mine for a split second before she sits across from me, giving me a tight lipped smile before she reaches for a mozzarella stick, holding it out to me. I take it and watch as she grabs another, dipping it in the red dipping sauce cup it came with before waiting for me to do the same. I keep my eyes on hers as I dip the greasy, crispy stick in the red sauce, waiting for her to take a bite of hers before I follow with my own.
I've never had one, and am shocked by the crispiness of the stick followed immediately by the warm, gooey core of the mozzarella cheese. The sauce adds a burst of slightly tangy and acidic flavor. I smile down at the mozzarella stick, nodding at how surprisingly different and good it is. When I look up, Hermione has a curious half smile on her face, but she quickly averts her gaze and looks at the glass of water I had brought her an hour ago. She leans forward and uses the straw to take her first sip from the glass.
I'm sorry you're stuck with me. I'm sorry you're shackled to me, but I promise I will do everything in my power to make it good for you. I want to be good for you.
Part of me wishes she could hear my thoughts right now. Part of me is embarrassed at how much I want to make her give me a genuine, full smile.
“Hey, I'm going to make sure Luna gets home alright,” Theo says nearly two hours later, scooping the sleeping witch into his arms. “Hermione, Draco will take you home.”
I am?
She looks at him with a slightly panicked expression, before looking at me. “You really don't have to, I don't live far, it's really not a long walk and I have a stop to make and I'm sure you're plenty busy and-”
“I don't mind,” I cut her off before she can ramble the rest of the night. In her drunken state, she probably wouldn't be able to apparate home, and a lady walking alone at night is just not appropriate when I'm perfectly capable of walking her. Besides, even I know the threat on her life, and if Greyback or Dolohov somehow know her whereabouts, I would prefer if she wasn't alone lest she risk getting snatched by the two psychopaths who've been hunting her for years.
A few years after the war, we'd managed to capture some prisoners who were too happy to bargain for their lives. They told us the plans of the surviving Death Eaters (kill the Golden Trio), recruit new members (which proved to be difficult when they were being hunted by the Aurors), spilled the names of everyone who was part of the new organization, and a few of them even provided memories showing Greyback’s rant to personally get his hands on Hermione. Since the Malfoy Manor incident, he'd developed an obsession and made every werewolf he turned become familiar with her scent - using one of her old scarves from during the war, placed in a stasis charm to keep her scent fresh and undisturbed - creating his own team to hunt her down.
Hermione was of course aware of the threat on her life, but she refused private security. The dimwit Harry hadn't been able to convince her, most likely because he didn't try really hard or because she didn't trust him (it was clear as day their friendship was strained, although the why remained a mystery). Either way, I'd made arrangements behind her back to secure protection. After talking to the least annoying Weasley, Charlie had come in from Romania and convinced her to get stronger wards around her home. Unbeknownst to her, the wards will trip an alarm if a werewolf steps foot within a five mile radius of her home, and I will get an alarm of such breach and have enough time to respond to the possible threat. It's only happened three times, and she was completely unaware of those breaches since I'd been able to handle the situation quickly, discreetly, and quietly.
“Fine,” she sighs the word and nods, leaning back against the chair and tilting her head up. “But I'm stopping for pizza.”
“Anything you need,” I say softly. She tenses and purses her lips, but doesn't say anything else. Theo gives me a terse nod before walking out with Luna. Blaise and Astoria stand and he helps her get into her coat, helping a half asleep Pansy to do the same.
“I'm staying at Zabini’s tonight,” Pansy announces a little too loudly before bursting into a fit of giggles.
I roll my eyes, nodding at the trio. “Have a goodnight, you three.”
I stand and give Astoria a soft kiss on either cheek, doing the same with Pansy – her head bumping so hard into my chin I nearly bite my tongue off – when she suddenly jumps and declares she wants croissants when they get home. Blaise grabs onto both witches and they walk out of the club, leaving Hermione and I alone.
She continues to sit, mostly slumped, her legs crossed and her hands nervously fidgeting on the table. “Are you sure you have nowhere else to be?”
I nod, offering her my hand to help her stand. She eyes it warily before taking my hand, and I exhale in relief that she'll at least let me help her. I grab my coat off the back of my chair and hold it open in front of her, watching as she slowly turns and allows me to drape it over her shoulders. “I'm going to adjust your hair,” I say softly.
I'm so close to her right now that her vanilla scent engulfs me. She's staring straight ahead, a rosy flush creeping up her neck and onto her cheeks when I slowly lift my hand and move her hair out from under my coat and off to one side. Her chest is rising and falling quickly, her lips pursed and brow furrowed in concentration. I let my fingers linger in her hair for a few seconds before I pull my hand back and step beside her, holding out my arm for her to hold. She loops her arm through mine, her fingers tightening on my bicep. We walk slowly out of the still crowded bar and into the cold night air.
We walk slowly in the direction of her house. Her house isn't far, really only a twenty minute walk, but she's stumbling and watching her feet with so much concentration, I motion to an alley after just five minutes. “I could apparate us closer,” I offer softly.
She watches me, fidgeting on her feet as she considers my offer. “I'm not sure the wards will let you in,” she says finally.
“I can apparate outside of them.”
“Okay,” she replies quietly. “Thank you, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have drank so much, I hate being an inconvenience.”
“Do not apologize, you're far from an inconvenience. I really don't mind, you were having fun.”
She nods absentmindedly, stepping closer to me for side along apparition.
“May I hold your waist?”
She nods again, looking up at me nervously as she drops her arm from my bicep. I curl my arm around her waist slowly, pulling her closer to my side, mostly under the guise of preventing splinching or leaving her behind, but also craving any physical contact she's willing to give me. She loops her arms around my waist, still looking up at me. I give her a reassuring smile before we disapparate with a soft pop, landing at the edge of her gravel driveway behind a fence of tall brick.
She lives in a cozy two-story cottage made of painted white brick, with the nearest neighbor being nearly three-quarters of a mile from her home. It has black framed arched windows throughout, a black painted door, perfectly trimmed hedges, and planters hanging from every window.
She unwraps her arms from my waist and steps back, pink tinging the tops of her cheeks as she looks down at her feet, kicking the gravel with the tip of her heel. She opens her mouth multiple times with no sound coming out before she sighs, looks up at me and clasps her hands in front of her.
“Would you like to come in for some coffee? Or tea?”
I nod, trying not to seem too enthusiastic lest I scare her off. She nods slowly, reaching forward and taking my hand. “I have to pull you through the wards,” she explains as she walks backwards past the open gate. Once we’re both through her wards, she drops my hand and turns away, continuing up the walkway to her front door on wobbly legs. I follow a few steps behind, trying not to look at her ass but failing miserably.
I’m going to Hell for the unholy thoughts that have crossed through my mind tonight, and the images that’ll plague my dreams and fantasies.
Chapter Text
My hands tremble as I try to unlock the door, my vision slightly blurry causing me to miss the keyhole multiple times before I finally manage to unlock the door and step inside on slightly numb legs. I motion for Draco to come in, holding his coat closed with one hand and standing awkwardly in the small entryway, watching his expression as his eyes sweep over the bits of my home he can see from the entryway. As he walks past me to give me room to close the door, his arm brushes mine and I sigh contentedly at the warmth from the small contact, instantly regretting it when it just causes me to breathe in more of his ridiculously good scent – green apple, mahogany and mint.
“You can make yourself comfortable,” I say softly, wondering if I have a sober-up potion in my cupboard. I feel way too sluggish and my stomach keeps flipping, and I absolutely refuse to vomit in front of Draco Malfoy.
He nods and walks further into the house, his eyes scanning everything. I grimace behind him, embarrassed at the scattered papers, books, pens, and empty take-out containers littering the table in the living room and the dining room. If he’s disgusted, he doesn’t let on, stopping in front of the wall in my dining room where I have a collection of photographs hung up on the wall. Most of the pictures are older ones from my childhood with my parents, a photo of me wearing my Yule Ball dress in Fourth Year with Crooks in my arms and a more recent photo of my parents with Crooks in Australia.
The newer pictures show Pansy and I clinking wine glasses together on New Years Eve on our impromptu trip to France, both of us in matching pink robes, smiling widely at the camera with pink cheeks. The second picture – the one Draco is studying far too closely – was taken about a year ago when we’d all gone on a picnic. I think it was Pansy who had taken the picture while Theo and I were arguing about the shapes we did – or in my case, didn’t – see in the clouds. He’s leaning back on one hand, pointing up with one hand and his signature smile on his face, and I’m seated between his legs with my back against his chest, grabbing at his wrist and laughing. Looking at it now, it does seem more romantic than it was, and I wonder what Draco’s thinking.
Draco turns away, clearing his throat and rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, revealing tattooed, toned forearms. Feeling thirsty, I turn around before he catches me staring, grabbing empty take-out containers as I go and tossing them in the rubbish bin, walking directly to the cupboard I usually keep potions in and pulling out a sober up potion. I tip it back and swallow it in one gulp, walking to the fridge and pulling out two soda cans.
“Your home is cozy,” Draco says softly. “Although, I did expect a lot more books. One bookshelf, Granger?”
I roll my eyes, tossing him a soda can. He catches it with one hand, flashing me a smirk reminiscent of our childhood. He pops open the can and takes a few gulps from it, humming appreciatively before setting it on the coaster on the dining room table. “Thank you, it’s been a long time since I’ve had one of these.”
“I figured you might still like them,” I say softly, remembering how every year when my parents would send care packages during my Hogwarts years, I’d ask them for extra of everything so I could share not just with Harry and Ron, but with the Slytherins I’d reluctantly become friends with. “If you must know, I turned one of the guest rooms into a library. Those are just the books I’ve been meaning to read, or that I tend to revisit often.”
“Ah, that sounds more like you,” he says with a chuckle.
My stomach flutters slightly at the sound, and I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to find something to fill the silence.
“I’m surprised you didn’t accept Theo’s proposal,” Draco says suddenly, his head tilted as he studies me.
I slip his coat off my shoulders and drape it over the back of the bar stool, taking a shaky breath before shrugging, keeping my gaze trained on the wooden grain of the countertop. “I’m surprised you didn’t ask Daphne Greengrass to marry you. Astoria had made it seem like it was a done deal a few weeks ago.”
He snorts and I look up at him, raising a brow in question. He shakes his head, rubbing his hand across his jaw with a mirthful smile on his face. “Yeah, I don’t know why everyone kept thinking that. Daphne and I were casual, something I made clear from the start, but she apparently had other intentions.”
“Casual?” I ask with a shrug of my shoulder, trying – and probably failing – to seem mildly curious.
“Just sex,” he clarifies easily.
“Right,” I breathe, dropping my gaze again, cheeks flushed.
“So, you and Theo?”
I shrug one shoulder, tapping my fingers rhythmically on the counter. “We’re just friends.”
“Very cozy friends, from the looks of it,” he says, voice taking on a slightly hard edge. “He seemed very handsy tonight.”
I look up, glaring at him. “He was probably trying to keep me from leaving. It’s not like you and I are exactly friends, and then you ambush me by just showing up–”
“–Theo said you knew I was coming, I did not ambush you–”
“–and acting like you didn’t break my heart years ago!” my voice cracks at the end and I berate myself for it, shaking my head and turning around, leaning against the counter. “You should leave.”
“Granger, I never meant to hurt you,” he says, his voice so soft and so close that I tense, not having realized in the few seconds I’d been turned around he’d moved to stand beside me on the other side of the counter. “I was trying to protect you.”
“Right,” I snap, looking at him over my shoulder. “It sure felt a lot like protecting me when you kept reminding me at every turn for years that we weren’t friends. Calling me names and treating me like actual dirt in front of my best friends, only to act like a completely different person when it was just us or when I was in the Slytherin common room. What was it you used to say? Hmm? This means nothing?” I try to put as much venom into my voice as I can, but as I repeat his words, I feel my resolve crack and a lone tear slides down my cheek. “Well, don’t worry, you really proved that it meant nothing when you just stood there while I was being tortured in your home. I don’t know why I was so disappointed that you did nothing, when you’d made it clear how little I meant to you for six years during school. I was the fool who thought you were just…” I break off, shaking my head against more tears threatening to spill. “Inviting you in was a mistake,” I mutter. “Really, you should leave.”
“No, please, let me explain, Granger,” he pleads, walking around the counter to stand before me and reaching for me. “I swear, I was only trying to protect you.”
I scoff, pulling my hands out of his when he grabs them and walking around him, not wanting to look at the despair on his face when he is the one who hurt me. “I have no reason to trust you, Malfoy.”
“I know that, and I will spend every day from now going forward doing what I can to earn your trust again, but I need you to hear me out,” he pleads, following me into the living room where I start grabbing books off the table and reshelving them, needing to do something to keep myself from looking at him or shattering to pieces before him.
“I don’t need to do anything,” I mutter instead, grabbing empty mugs and cups and walking past him to the kitchen, my shoulder bumping his own roughly. “You made me look like an idiot. You know Blaise tried to stop me?” I set the dishes in the sink roughly, facing him and crossing my arms over my chest.
His chest is heaving, whether from following me around the house or from the conversation is unclear, and his face looks so remorseful that it makes my chest squeeze painfully.
“When he found out I was helping you repair that stupid vanishing cabinet, he told me I should destroy it or walk away. But I trusted you, I cared enough for you, to ignore everyone else who thought you were guilty of cursing Katie, to sit beside you, crying, after Harry cursed you and you almost died, and the whole time you were just using me! You lied to me. You said it was because you were worried about Narcissa, that she was lonely and depressed all alone in the Manor and you wanted to be able to check in on her more frequently, and I believed you. You. Lied. You looked me in the eyes, for months, and you lied to me repeatedly.”
“I kept things from you, but I never lied to you, Granger,” he insists, stepping forward slowly, holding his hands up placatingly. “Please, hear me out, I will answer every question you have, I swear it. I won’t lie to you.”
“How can I even trust you?” I ask, shifting on my feet, hugging myself tightly, and chewing nervously on my bottom lip.
“Veritaserum,” he blurts out, eyes dilated and desperate. “I always have some because of work, you can use it on me.”
“You’d do that?” I ask quietly, brows drawn together.
He nods, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small kit I’ve seen Harry carry as well. He mutters a spell quietly and the leather pouch returns to its original size, and then he’s opening it and digging through until he pulls out a small vial of clear liquid. He shrinks the leather pouch and pockets it again, stepping towards me and holding out the veritaserum.
“You can administer the dose if you want, however much you want,” he murmurs.
I take the vial slowly, searching his face for any hesitation, and finding none. I look down at the vial, turning it in my hands, before setting it on the counter with a soft sigh.
“You said you’d tell me everything…I’m choosing to trust you right now. Please, don’t make me regret it.” I hold his steel grey eyes, hoping I’m not making a mistake by taking him at his word.
I walk past him to the living room, sitting on the couch and pulling a blanket onto my lap to cover my exposed legs. Draco sits on the opposite end of the couch, his body angled towards my own. His knee is close to my blanket covered one, and I take a shaky breath, licking my lips before lifting my chin and nodding at him to start talking.
“I was a downright asshole to you,” he starts slowly, wiping his hands on his knees. “And it was intentional, all of it.”
“If you’re trying to apologize, you’re going to have to do a lot better than that,” I snap, crossing my arms over my chest defensively.
“I’m not,” he says quickly, then shakes his head, closing his eyes and sighing. “I mean, I am, but not until I explain first.”
I nod, lowering my arms and trying to relax my body against the cushions behind me. He opens his eyes and looks at me, biting his lip, brows furrowed together, probably contemplating his next words.
“When we met first year, do you remember that day?” he asks.
I nod, recalling the way I’d gone into his compartment that day, intending to ask if anyone had seen Neville’s toad. I was so young and so hopeful that as long as I was confident, and showed how smart and capable I was, I would fit right in and make friends who understood how challenging life was before I had an explanation for all the strange things I could do (most of the time, unintentionally). Upon seeing him, sitting with perfect posture and dressed impeccably, with not a single hair out of place, and those beautiful pale eyes, I’d completely forgotten what I’d barged in for. Thankfully, Theo had taken the lead, and I remembered myself, asking after the toad and then moving on to the next compartment. Up until the sorting ceremony, I’d hoped I’d get to see the mysterious, angelic looking boy again and that we’d be sorted into the same house. We all know how that ended.
“In those few minutes, you intrigued me. You didn’t know who I was, who my family was, and there was so much curiosity in you. I decided then and there that I wanted to know you. I wanted to introduce myself and let you see me how I truly was, not what I had to be in front of others. I thought you and I could be friends, real friends.”
“And yet, we weren’t,” I say bitterly.
“Father always cared about public image, and he…he resented Muggleborns. But Mum didn’t care about those things, she just wanted me to be happy. Her and I had a bit of a game when I was younger, of just going along with what Father said to keep him satisfied; the happier he was, the easier life was and the more freedom we had. Vincent and Gregory were upset about me spending time with you. They were raised by their own fathers to resent people with your heritage, and when they saw I was spending time with you one of them – I’m still not sure who – wrote to their father and their father told my own. He visited, reminded me of his expectations and what the Malfoy image was supposed to be.” He pauses, inhaling and reaching forward, placing his hand on my knee. I tense, waiting for his next words.
“He took me to see your parents,” he says after a long pause.
I gasp, shaking my head and opening my mouth.
“He Obliviated them after, and he didn’t hurt them, but he wanted to show me how easy it would be to do so,” he finishes quietly, squeezing my knee. “He didn’t hurt them, Granger, I swear it. He didn’t even talk to them, we just sat in your living room while he explained, in detail, how easy it would be to kill them. To do the same to you.” He sighs, dropping his head. “I was selfish, I still am. I didn’t want you or your family to get hurt, but I didn’t want to let you go. I knew he had Vincent and Gregory to keep an eye on me. Theo, Pansy and Blaise knew, I told them everything the minute my Father was gone. We threatened Vincent and Gregory into keeping their mouths shut; Blaise and Pansy have always been too good with blackmail, even at that age. But I couldn’t risk anyone else going to my Father about it, so I made sure it looked as if I was following his orders when we were around people I knew couldn’t be trusted.”
I nod in understanding, although it doesn’t take away the sting and the heartache from those years, now coupled with the anxiety at knowing how easily Lucius could've hurt my parents and I wouldn't have known.
“I hated hurting you, humiliating you, making you cry,” he leans forward, his eyes holding mine and his hand rubbing circles on my knee. “I couldn’t take it knowing that if something happened to you or your family, it would be my doing though.”
“Why not just tell me?” I whisper, tears stinging my eyes. I blink away rapidly, licking my lips and looking away.
“Because I knew you’d stay away from me to protect your parents,” he whispers back, grimacing slightly. “I was selfish and I didn’t want to give you that option, so I didn’t tell you.”
My stomach twists, throat feeling too dry as I try to swallow the knot in my throat. “That is selfish,” I mumble, lacking the bite I intended.
His eyes soften, and his hand squeezes my knee gently, bringing my eyes back to his. “I always go after what I want.”
I scoff, rolling my eyes and pushing his hand away. “I wasn’t some thing for you to own.”
“No, but I wanted your friendship. Even if I could only have it in secret, it was worth having.”
“Well, you fucked that up sixth year. Or are you just not going to talk about that?”
He looks away, nodding, and I watch his throat when he swallows thickly. “I didn’t mean for that year to go the way it did. I took the dark mark the summer of fifth, and when I came back, I fully intended to cut you off. But fuck, you’re stubborn,” he laughs bitterly.
“You’re blaming me?” I ask incredulously.
“Partially,” he groans. “You just had to keep cornering me, asking me what was wrong–”
“Oh, I’m sorry for worrying about my not-friend! I’m so sorry it was such an inconvenience for you, but you were not exactly forthcoming either. You told me the cabinet was for your Mother, that you were repairing it to check in on her because she was oh so lonely in such a big Manor with nobody to talk to–”
“It was for her, I just couldn’t tell you the real reason why, Granger,” he snaps, getting to his feet and pacing. “Would you have helped me if I’d told you Voldemort himself had ordered that cabinet fixed so he could sneak in his little band of Death Eaters? He was living in the same house as my Mother, with nearly fifty of his followers, including Greyback, and there was no one there to protect her. It was my responsibility to keep her safe with Lucius out of the picture.”
“If you had told me, we could’ve gone to Dumbledore, he would’ve prepared the castle and we would’ve been ready when they did come. I still would’ve helped you repair that cabinet, even if it meant letting his army into the castle, because I cared for your Mother the same way you cared for my parents!”
“How was I supposed to know that?” he shouts, chest heaving. “You don’t know what it’s like to be watched, every second of the day, having someone reporting back to Voldemort on my progress. I had to watch my Mother get tortured when Lucius failed to bring the Prophecy and Potter back to Voldemort. Do you have any idea what that’s like? I would’ve taken her punishment if it meant I didn’t have to see her cry and plead for my life, if it meant I wouldn’t have had to listen to her scream for hours while she begged Voldemort to spare me. And spare me he did, but not without branding me first.”
I wipe a tear from my face, biting my tongue against the apology wanting to slip past my lips.
I so regret being sober for this conversation.
“You have no idea how many times I wanted to tell you,” he murmurs after a few tense minutes of silence, only our breathing filling the quiet of the house. “I was so tired of lying to you. When we went to the Astronomy Tower that night after we finished, I was so ready to confess everything. I didn’t know they’d come as fast as they did, I thought I had time to make a decision.”
My mind flashes back to that night, a night I revisit often for so many reasons. Trying to figure out what I could’ve done differently, if I’d moved fast enough that night, wondering if I should’ve listened to Draco, remembering what Draco’s embrace had felt like that night before everything went to actual hell.
June 30, 1997
I giggle as Draco tugs me up the stairs to the Astronomy Tower, gripping the blankets in my other arm tightly. “Slow down! You’re going to make me fall!”
He shoots a wink at me over his shoulder, smiling brightly. “Oh, I intend to make you fall hard, Granger, just not the way you’re thinking.”
I almost miss a step at his words, but he slows down enough for me to catch up so I’m only a step behind him the rest of the way. When we make it to the top of the Astronomy Tower, Draco sets down the blankets, picnic style, and pulls something out of his pocket that he unshrinks into nearly a dozen pillows and a picnic basket. He turns and grabs the extra blankets from my hand, his gaze more lively than it has been the last few months. A few minutes later, we’ve got a cozy spot against the brick wall where we can watch the stars and he even conjured some small floating lanterns to brighten up the space a bit.
“Come sit, you must be freezing in that skirt,” he murmurs, reaching for me and tugging me over to the blankets by my waist.
I lower myself slowly, grabbing a blanket and throwing it over my lap while he settles himself down beside me, so close the back of my shoulder is pressed to the front of his. “This is really nice,” I murmured after a few quiet minutes, turning my head to look at him over my shoulder.
Our faces are so close I can smell the mint on his breath, and I take in a shaky breath, suddenly nervous at our proximity. This is the closest we’ve been since fourth year, and that night hadn’t turned out so good. His eyes are soft tonight though, and his expression is calm and pensive as he takes in my features.
“You’re brilliant,” he whispers at last, his words brushing over my lips.
“It was a team effort,” I whisper back, tilting my head down marginally.
His lips look so plump and full and inviting.
“I never would’ve figured it out without you,” he admits in a whisper.
I lick my lips, pulling my gaze away from his lips and looking into his grey eyes. From this close, I can see the small specks of blue near his pupil, and even bits of gold.
“Granger,” he says under his breath, enunciating it in a way that makes a shiver run down my spine. “I can’t pretend anymore.”
“Does that mean you’re going to kiss me now?” I breathe the words hesitantly, my eyes jumping between his and his lips, brows drawn together as I wait for his response.
“Brilliant, magnificent, bossy woman,” he murmurs in awe.
His hand comes up and warms my cheek, his thumb brushing just beneath my eye as if he’s trying to memorize the shape of my face. He hesitates long enough for my breath to catch with anticipation before he leans in, his breath warming my lips before they press tenderly to my own. His kiss is so gentle, almost reverent, and a quiet thrill goes through me, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine.
His lips move over mine slowly, with intention, the same way his hands do as they move lower down my face until his fingers are tangled gently in my hair, tugging me closer. He hums against my lips, and I feel myself melting into the kiss, any doubt of hesitations I might’ve had replaced by the warmth and reverence he’s injected into the kiss.
His hand cups the back of my head protectively as he lowers me onto the pillows behind us, his lips never leaving my own. He lays on his side beside me, holding himself up on one elbow, his hand brushing curls off the top of my head gently, while his other hand has now moved to my waist and is squeezing the bare bit of skin there before soothing it with gentle circles with his thumb.
“Hermione,” he groans my name against my lips, pulling away and leaning his forehead against mine, breaths coming in heavy pants against mine.
I breathe just as hard, my heart pounding so loudly I wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear it. “That was…” I trail off, unable to find the words to describe the moment.
“Otherworldly,” he offers with a chuckle. “Brilliant. Magnificent.”
I giggle, blushing furiously. “I think we need to find you a dictionary, Draco.”
Surprise flashes across his features momentarily, replaced with equal parts joy and awe. “You said my name.”
I bite my lip, nodding. “Is that okay?”
He nods, but then he’s sitting up abruptly, leaving me suddenly cold. “I need to tell you something first.”
Dread washes over me, and I sit up, pulling my knees up to my chest. “Okay,” I say slowly. “Are you regretting it already?”
“No, no, of course not, it’s not that, but…” he sighs, running his fingers through his hair, mussing it up and making it stand awkwardly in some spots. “There’s something you should know first, before anything else–”
He cuts off at the sound of a maniacal laugh, and then the sky is illuminated in shades of glittering green. I look past him, gasping at the sight of the Dark Mark in the sky, the greenish smoke making the shape of a snake protruding from the mouth of a skull.
“Fuck,” Draco hisses, standing and reaching for me, pulling me to my feet as I try to think of what to do.
“I don’t understand, how did they get in? They’re not supposed to be able to enter the castle, the wards…”
“Granger, you need to run. Listen to me, I’ll get you to the Common Room and you need to grab Crookshanks and then I’m getting you out of here,” he speaks hurriedly, leading me towards the stairs, his arm wrapped around my waist.
“What? I can’t go, I have to stay, I need to find Harry, and–”
“You can’t stay, you don’t know what they’ll do to you. Let me get you out of here,” he continues to tug me along down the stairs, sure of his steps.
I stop in my tracks abruptly and nearly get knocked down when he keeps going. Upon noticing I’m not with him anymore, he stops, turning to face me, his face showing only determination.
“Granger, we have to move,” he insists, enunciating the words.
“You knew,” I whisper, the realization punching me in the stomach. “What did…no…you…the cabinet, it wasn’t…what have you done?”
He winces, shaking his head, coming up the three steps separating us until he’s standing right before me, his face only inches from mine.
“I had no choice,” he says apologetically. “He was going to kill my Mum.”
“Better to sacrifice us Mudbloods then? How could you? I thought…you and I, I thought…” I choke on my words, tears streaming down my cheeks. “You lied to me. You used me.”
“No, it’s not what you think,” he says hurriedly. “Granger, I lov–”
“Don't. Don’t touch me,” I hiss, pulling my arms from him and stepping around him. “You ruined everything. I never should’ve trusted you.”
“Granger, wait,” Draco calls after me, following closely behind me even as I take the steps two, three at a time in my hurry to get to Harry and get help.
I turn on him, raising my wand and pointing it at his chest, clenching my jaw against a sob. “Are you with them?”
The remorse written all over his face is enough of an answer. “He was going to kill my Mum if I didn’t take the Mark.”
A sob slips past my lips and I turn around, wiping my face quickly. “So go then. Tell your master you did what he asked of you. Just stay away from me.”
He doesn’t follow me, and I’m grateful for it even as I feel like I’ve left a part of myself behind on the blankets we were just lying on.
Now
“You were going to tell me,” I whisper, tears blurring my vision.
“I had a plan to get you to safety,” he murmurs, walking to me on the couch and dropping to his knees on the floor. His hands brace me on either side of the couch and he looks up at me as if he’s praying to a higher deity for forgiveness. His voice comes out thick with emotion. “I am so incredibly sorry, Hermione. I am so sorry that I let you help me without giving you all the details. I’m sorry for keeping things from you. I’m sorry for betraying your trust and ruining our friendship.”
A whimper escapes my lips and I lower my face into my hands, crying into my hands. “All this time, I thought you used me,” I sob.
I feel his hands wrap around me and I jump, startled at the unfamiliar contact. He drops his hands immediately and I feel guilt burning my stomach like acid, but don’t reach out for him, trying to force my emotions under control. Just because he’s come clean doesn’t erase the years of uncertainty and pain and regret and self-resent.
“I’m so sorry Greyback is after you because of me,” he murmurs softly.
I lift my head, squinting at him through my tears, trying to see him better. “Wh-what are you talking about?”
“He smelled you on me,” he clarifies softly. “He’s been obsessed with you ever since, he’s still hunting you because I was an idiot and I couldn’t stay away from you and he got curious. When he found out you were important to Potter, he decided he would have you. Voldemort thought it’d be funny to…to watch the Golden Girl torn to shreds by his pack.”
He’s still on his knees, leaning back on his heels with his shoulders slumped under the invisible weight of the burden he’s carried for so long. He didn’t look afraid or nervous of whatever punishment I would throw his way at his confession, simply waiting for it as if he deserved to be blamed for what he deemed his failure.
“That’s not on you,” I whisper. I wipe my face with the backs of my hands, tossing the blanket off my lap and standing, adjusting my dress to keep myself covered. His eyes never waver from my own, and he continues to kneel before me.
“If it wasn’t then, it would’ve been when he caught us in the Forest,” I explain slowly. “I don’t blame you for that. Please, don’t blame yourself.”
His throat bobs, swallowing before nodding. “I’m sorry.”
“Stand up,” I instruct him quietly.
He does as I say, and we’re so close that I take a step to the side and away, walking to the fireplace and scratching the back of my head nervously. “I’m not saying that I forgive you fully. But I understand, and…I don’t want to be angry with you for the rest of my life. Given our situation, I think it’s best if we just find a way to move forward.”
“I will apologize every single day for the rest of our lives,” he promises, voice slightly hopeful.
I shrug, looking at him and trying to lighten the mood. “I think that would get annoying after some time.”
He gives an uncertain, nervous chuckle, nodding. “I suppose it might.”
I lick my lips, crossing my arms over my chest and blowing out a shaky breath. “It’s late,” I say slowly. “We still have a lot to talk about, but I think we should call it a night tonight. Plate the conversation for another time.”
“Of course, whatever you need,” he murmurs.
My heart squeezes, and I dig my nails into my upper arms to keep myself planted to my spot across the room from him. “Our Floos aren’t connected, but you’ve been let through the wards so you should be able to apparate,” I offer awkwardly.
He gives me a sad smile, nodding, although his eyes look distant. Part of me wants to pry, to bring him back and have him wholly here, but I don’t say anything else.
“Can we have dinner tomorrow?”
Notes:
A longer chapter, delving into their shared past. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter as much as I did.
New chapters going out Friday nights!
-xoxo, Gen
Chapter Text
I wake up to my phone ringing somewhere in my room. After slapping my hand over my bedside table and coming up empty-handed, I groan, burrowing my face deeper into the pillow. “Accio phone,” I snap with my hand open, ready to catch the phone when it lands in my hand. I roll onto my back and hit the answer button, not even bothering to open my eyes as I bring the phone to my ear.
“What?” I snap, irritated at having been woken up so suddenly.
“Well that answers my question, you did not get laid,” Pansy snickers on the other end. “Seriously, Granger, you've got to get some dick soon. Your vagina is going to start growing cobwebs.”
“Is that why Theo had Malfoy take me home?” I sit up, rubbing sleep from my eyes and kicking my feet off the side of the bed.
“That's why I would've had Draco take you home,” she mutters. “Theo just wanted to take his little girlfriend home. He, unlike you, did get laid. Called this morning and wouldn't shut up about it.”
I roll my eyes, making my way out of my room and downstairs, stomach grumbling. I pull open the fridge, biting the inside of my lip as I take inventory of what I have (not much) and then shut it again, deciding I should shower and go grab something and maybe some groceries so I can cook tonight. “Well, I'm not interested in Malfoy like that, and he's not interested in me. If it weren't for us somehow getting matched, we probably never would’ve spoken again.”
“You never know, you probably thought the same of us and look at you. Weekly drinks in Muggle clubs,” she says with a laugh. “Draco was always part of our group in Hogwarts and you still came around to spend time with Theo every once in a while, he's just been busier as an adult.”
“That was different,” I argue. “Hogwarts was Hogwarts, him coming out to a Muggle club never even crossed my mind in the realm of possibilities of where I might run into him. We've been spending time there for years and he's never joined until now.”
“Well, he wasn't engaged to you before now.”
I sputter, coughing and shaking my head. “We are not engaged.”
“You're getting married,” Pansy says matter of factly. “Also, I'm coming over with croissants and coffee so open your door.”
“It's a business arrangement, not an actual marriage” I say, walking to the door and pulling it open. I'm grateful I won't have to figure out what to make for breakfast, because the thought of cooking makes me nauseous.
Pansy appears in the doorway, phone between her shoulder and ear and hands full with a tray holding three coffees and a brown paper bag that smells divine. I hang up and reach to help her carry the coffee in.
“Three coffees?”
“I was under the impression Draco would still be here,” she says with a shrug. “Honestly, I don’t see why you didn’t sleep with him. If there’s one thing he’s good at, it's sex. The man has the stamina of a bull and his tongue is divine.” She says all this like it’s common knowledge and I roll my eyes, walking to the kitchen with her close on my heels, trying to hide a blush at her words.
While I'm dressed in my cow print sleep shorts and a cropped tank, Pansy is dressed like she's ready to walk fashion week. After the war, she let her hair grow to just past her shoulders but kept her bangs. Today, she’s dressed in a short, dark grey suit dress with knee high black leather boots, a white pearl clip holding half her hair up, and pearl earrings paired with a pearl necklace to accessorize. Slightly shorter than me most days, but today she’s my height with her heeled boots. She wears a bright red lip, and just a small line of eyeliner on top of her eyes; since becoming an Auror, she doesn’t wear much makeup, but her skin is so flawless that it doesn't even make a difference.
“Did he say that?”
“What?” I ask, taking a sip of my coffee and moaning in delight at the delicious heat.
“Draco. Did he say it's just business?” She looks down at her manicured hands, then reaches into the bag and grabs a chocolate drizzled croissant, placing it on a plate and sliding it to me.
“No, but he didn't have to. We're meeting tonight anyway to talk about the whole thing.”
“You're going on a date?”
“No, he's coming here,” I elaborate with a wave of my hand. “Why didn't you marry him?” I blurt the question a little too loudly - and slightly accusatory - since it’s been on my mind since our match was made.
She raises a brow at me, smirking. “And why would I marry him?”
“Well you were together in school,” I say slowly. “There were rumors your families had arranged for the two of you to get married when school let out. And let’s not forget the comment you just made about sex with him being divine.”
She cackles, shaking her head. “Well we're both glad that arrangement was called off, both of us were interested in other people. We used each other for experience, it was a mutual understanding and there are no hard feelings or regrets there, but I don’t think we ever would’ve made a good couple.”
“So who are you matched with?”
“Charlie Weasley,” she says slowly, dragging out the syllables. She takes a bite of her croissant, smirking, awaiting my reaction.
I gape, mouth hanging open as I stare at her. She keeps eating her croissant, taking a sip of her coffee when she's finished and grinning at me.
“And you'd rather marry and have babies with him, than Malfoy?”
“He's yummy,” Pansy shrugs. “I’ve never had a dragon tamer before. If he can get dragons to listen to him, he can’t possibly be as boring or as dim as dear old Ron.”
I flinch at the sound of his name, resisting the urge to look over my shoulder for him. Even after so many years, I get nervous that he's just going to pop up if someone says his name around me, and it feels even stranger when it's uttered in my house.
“He really did a number on you,” Pansy says softly.
“No,” I say in what I hope is a stern voice. “I don't want to talk about him, please.”
She nods, pursing her lips. She watches me for a minute before clapping her hands on her lap and standing. “So, a date with Draco tonight, what are you wearing? I really hope this isn't it because those pajamas are hideous,” she says with a wrinkle in her nose.
“Hey, leave my pajamas alone. They're comfortable,” I add defensively. “And it's not a date, it's a business meeting.”
She starts walking to my room and I follow her after grabbing the tray of coffees, sighing. Last time she looked through my closet to help me decide what to wear for an actual date (with Viktor Krum, who I knew wouldn't care what I wore), she ended up deciding nothing was good enough and dragged me shopping for three hours. I was so tired and so sore from trying on dozens of outfits, I nearly cancelled my date just so I could sleep. I was grateful I hadn't because Vik was just what I needed to get myself comfortable and confident enough to go out on dates, even if things didn't work out between us due to the distance between us and our busy schedules. I'd had a few dates since then, but nothing really led anywhere. Probably my fault honestly, I've always been too picky and I don't like to have sex on the first (or even third) date.
“Really? Because he called this morning asking what he should wear for a date with Hermione Granger at her house,” she says as she swings open the door to my walk-in closet and starts shuffling through everything.
“Wait, wait, he said that? He thinks this is a date?”
“Brightest witch of her age, my behind. Yes, catch up woman! Now, Draco likes how you look in blue and red, but he's always been curious about you in green since he never really saw you wear it,” she looks through my dresses, tutting and shaking her head. “We may have to go shopping and-”
“Nope, not happening. If you're choosing what I wear, it needs to come out of my closet. I'm not having a repeat of last time, and this isn't a date, so it doesn't matter what he likes.” I cross my arms, trying to make myself look immovable.
She rolls her eyes, sighing deeply before turning to me. “Look, we need to talk. Draco is one of my best and oldest friends. And because you've made it into my limited list of best friends, I feel it is perfectly acceptable for me to have this discussion with you.”
She pauses before motioning for me to follow her as she walks to my bed, sitting on the rumpled sheets and waiting for me to join her. Nerves make my stomach clench and I resist the urge to bite my nails. When I join her on the bed, she takes my hand into her own, facing forward for a few seconds before turning to me with a contemplative look in her eyes. “I don't know what you've been through, but I know something – someone – did something. I don't know if it's residual trauma from the war, a bad relationship, or something else,” she inhales before continuing. “But I swear to you, I will make an unbreakable vow if you ask it of me because that is how sure I am about what I’m about to tell you…” her eyes search mine before she continues, “Draco will not hurt you. You will be the safest, most powerful witch in the world with him by your side. I know he was a total ass in school, and I know that you may have a hard time trusting him after everything that happened in sixth year, but he can be so good to you if you give yourself and him the chance to have a good marriage.”
A tear runs down my cheek, and I wipe it away furiously, heart beating loudly in my ears, palms sweating. “Neither of us chose this, not really. Marriage or prison or losing our wands isn’t a choice. I don't want to do it,” I whisper. “Pans, I don't know if I can go through with it. I can't give up the only piece of control I have left.” What if he uses it against me like Ron? What if he traps me under lock and key in his Manor?
“Who was he?” Pansy asks softly, rubbing circles on the top of my palm.
I shake my head. “Nobody,” it comes out too quickly and I pull my hand from hers before she notices the tremble. “It's from the war, like you said.” I talk too fast, searching my room for a distraction. This conversation is too dangerous, if he finds out I said anything, he'll kill me. He'll kill my parents. He's always dangled their lives in front of me, and Pansy would certainly not keep quiet about this. She’s smart, she knows I’ve only dated a few people, and nobody serious since coming into their friend group. “Please,” I beg on a broken sob. “It's from the war,” I insist.
“Okay, okay, we don't have to talk about it,” Pansy reassures me, getting in my line of sight with her face scrunched in concern. “I'm here whenever you want to talk about it, or not talk about it. I'm here for you, Hermione, and you should know, I have no problem killing people who hurt my friends. So whenever you need me, if you need me, I’m here. You’re stuck with me.”
I give a weak laugh, nodding. She pulls me into her arms suddenly, squeezing me tightly. “I love you,” she says softly into my hair.
“I love you,” I whisper back.
After a few minutes, my cries have subsided and we're back in the closet laying out options. Of the three dresses Pansy picked out, I settled on a pale blue mid-thigh length dress with a sweetheart neckline and cap sleeves paired with tan flats. Pansy heads off to work, leaving me with roughly four hours until Draco arrives for our dinner. I spend it cleaning, going over the paperwork outlining the specifics of the marriage decree and highlighting what I want to discuss with Draco, and making a list with questions and concerns. An hour before Draco is expected to arrive, I bathe and get ready nervously, Pansy's words playing repeatedly in my head.
With only fifteen minutes before Draco arrives, I stand in front of the fireplace, fidgeting with the skirt of my dress. I double check that I’ve cast a glamour over the slur on my arm - thank you, Bellatrix - and put my hair in a clip before taking it back down. I can’t decide if I should be waiting by the fireplace or if that’ll make me seem too eager, or if I should wait by the table instead. Maybe I should set up the plates before he gets here?
I glance back at the table that’s currently holding nearly the entire menu from the Chinese restaurant a few blocks away. To be fair, I don’t know what he eats, and I didn’t want him to go hungry. I thought of getting dessert, but couldn’t settle on anything in time. I also have two file folders waiting on the kitchen counter for when we’re done with the dinner portion of the night. The radio is playing one of the local radio stations at a low volume, keeping the house from being too quiet.
I check the clock on the mantel, sighing. One more minute. I inhale and wipe my hands on the skirt of my dress, and then cast a quick cleaning charm on my tan shoes. I look up, pasting a small smile on my face as I wait for him to step through the fireplace.
Ding dong.
I jump in my spot, frowning at the doorbell. I glance back at the fireplace, but Draco doesn’t seem to be here yet so I walk to the door, fully expecting to see one of my neighbors on the other side. Instead, when I open the door, it’s Draco standing on my porch with a bouquet of white and pink peonies, a small bakery box, and a bottle of wine. He’s dressed impeccably in a pale blue Oxford shirt, black slacks, and dragonhyde leather shoes. He gives me a shy smile, looking down and clearing his throat.
“I didn’t want to come through the fireplace and surprise you,” he says after a few seconds of silence.
I nod, giving him a small smile as I pull the door open wider to let him. “I think it was more surprising hearing the doorbell,” I joke. “Please, come in.”
He chuckles and walks in, smirking. “My apologies,” he says softly. I close the door when he’s fully in the hallway and we stand in the entryway, looking at each other. “I brought some wine from my personal collection that I thought you might enjoy and a variety of macarons from my favorite bakery in France. And these are for you,” he holds out the peonies and I reach for them slowly, smiling and blushing. The sweet smell of the flowers mixed with his earthy, slightly spicy scent mix in an intoxicating way that makes me want to step closer to him.
Aged oak, green apple, mint. I’m so fucked if his scent is enough to have me spacing out tonight.
“They’re beautiful, thank you,” I reply softly, trying to shake myself from my thoughts. “I didn’t think they were in season anymore,” I whisper as I study the blooms, looking up at him and giving him a full smile. “These are my favorite flowers, but you can only find them a few months out of the year. How did you know?”
“You mentioned it in fourth year. I have impeccable memory,” he says proudly, straightening his shoulders. “I wanted tonight to go well,” he adds. “I figured flowers couldn’t hurt.”
“Well, they’re absolutely beautiful. Thank you, really, it’s a kind gesture.”
He smiles, his sharp canines on display. My stomach flutters, and I turn away, motioning for him to follow me to the dining room.
“Um, I wasn’t sure what you might enjoy, so I ordered a variety for us tonight. You can set the wine and macarons down on the table if you’d like.” I walk to the kitchen and grab a vase from under the sink, adding some water and gently arranging the bouquet inside.
It’s been years since I got flowers, and something about the gesture makes me feel a little giddy as I look at them on my kitchen counter. I look up to find Draco’s gaze on me, looking at me as if he’s trying to figure something out. I glance down, worried about a nip slip or something spilled on my dress, when I hear him talk in such a quiet voice that I wonder if it’s in my head, “So beautiful.”
“Wh-what?”
He clears his throat, a pink tint coloring the tops of his defined cheekbones. “You look beautiful. Blue brings out the gold in your eyes,” he says.
My chest and face heat, and I drop my gaze. “Thank you.”
After what feels like an eternity of silence, I finally get my bearings and walk to the dining room, motioning to the stoneware plates I set on the table and the arrangement of food piled on one side of the table. “Please, help yourself to anything.”
“Thank you,” he says as he grabs a plate and walks to the food area, looking at the food choices with furrowed brows before tipping his head to the side. “What are the folders for?”
I glance over my shoulder at the file folders on the kitchen counter, now sitting beside the vase of peonies. “Just some notes I wanted us to go over tonight.” I grab a plate and follow him, smiling a little at his still empty plate before grabbing a serving spoon and scooping some fried rice onto his plate before doing the same to my own.
He hums, walking behind me as I take it upon myself to pile a little of everything onto his plate since he doesn’t seem partial to anything as of yet. “Like what?” He asks as he sits on the cleared side of the table.
I sit across from him and summon the folders to sit between us, shifting nervously in my seat when he leans forward to look at the top of the folder stamped with a Ministry logo. “Ah,” he says after a second. “Well, let’s get something in our stomachs before we talk,” he says as he forks a spoonful of fried rice into his mouth.
I do the same, and we eat in companionable silence for a few minutes with just the sound of forks scraping and the soft music in the background. Halfway through his plate, Draco stands and walks to the other end of the table, serving himself another spoonful of General Tso’s chicken and some chow mein. I smirk, noting his favorites for another time. Watching him eat reminds me of the times I’d occasionally see him in the dining hall at Hogwarts, eating with his fellow Slytherins completely oblivious to my teeny tiny crush.
It was embarrassing honestly, crushing on someone who’d bully you in front of your friends, but could be so different when we spent time with our mutual friends. It was probably for Theo and Blaise’s sake that he was polite when we were around them, but it was more than a little frustrating when he would spew such venom when I was with Harry and Ron as if he was egging them on to a fight. I did come to enjoy our time alone a lot more than I minded how mean he could be, especially when he’d apologize for the comments later or give me an extra sweet compliment later. It probably says more about my taste in men and my lack of self confidence or respect, but even when he was mean, it never really felt like he meant it. He always seemed like he was just reading from a script, playing a role in public and then later he’d hang up his villain hat and be a good friend or study buddy if I needed him.
“Okay, let’s do this,” he says, clapping his hands and reaching into his pocket. With a whispered spell, he unshrinks the contents he pulls out of his pocket and places the black folders on the table beside mine. He grabs a copy of each folder and holds them out to me. “I think it’d be easiest to address the Ministry mandates before we get into anything more personal, yes?”
I nod, pushing my plate to the side and summoning a pen from my office upstairs. It clatters onto the table, and Draco looks at it curiously before smirking and pulling his own pen from his pocket.
“Blaise got me these, it’s really convenient not having to worry about carrying ink.” He opens one of his folders and I do the same, my leg bouncing under the table as I try to control my breathing.
Fuck, this is really, actually happening.
“I got a summons from Kingsley yesterday,” he begins, clasping his hands together on top of the folder and holding my gaze. “He wants to be at our union, and took it upon himself to schedule it for Wednesday at noon, in his office.”
I gape, a gasp leaving my lips. “That’s in three days.”
He nods, pursing his lips. “He said something about us being flight risks.”
I scoff, crossing my arms. “Okay, fine,” I mutter. “Wednesday it is.” I’m going to kill Kingsley. Maybe hex him into oblivion for this. Not only do I have to marry someone I don’t want to marry, I don’t even get to decide when it happens. Fan-fucking-tastic.
He nods, clearing his throat before looking at the folder again. He shifts in his seat, “I was able to gather some more details on the ceremony itself. We will need at least two witnesses outside of the binder and Ministry official, in this case Kingsley. Do you have any preference?”
I shake my head. “Do you?”
“My Mother has actually asked if she could be present for the ceremony,” he answers after a brief pause. “I’ll only agree to her presence if you’re comfortable with it.”
I nod, biting my lip, resisting the urge to look at where the slur Bellatrix carved into my arm has faded to a pale pink scar. It’s not like Narcissa was the one who carved the slur onto my arm, but she didn’t exactly stop her sister either. Then again, I doubt anyone could stop Bellatrix from doing anything except maybe Voldemort himself. “Uh, yeah, that’s fine with me. Anyone else?”
“I was thinking maybe your parents would like to be there? I asked Kingsley and he is willing to grant them a special pass for the occasion,” he adds at my confused expression.
“No,” I reply awkwardly. “My parents aren’t around, but thank you.”
“Could I meet them before the ceremony? I know it isn’t exactly something we chose on our own, but I’d like to get your Father’s blessing, and assuage any concerns they may have about this union.”
“No,” I say again, more sternly. “My parents aren’t in the picture. Not since the war, at least.”
He flinches, and a pink tint covers the tips of his ears and the tops of his cheekbones. “I’m sorry, I had no idea.”
“Moving on,” I wave him off and look down at the papers in front of me even though I’m not reading a single word. I probably have everything memorized at this point. “How about Theo or Pansy? Or both? I think either of them would throw a fit if they weren’t invited.”
He nods, making a note on the margins of his paper. “I’ll let them know. Chances are they’ll both want to come.”
I nod, taking a sip of my wine. “Okay, next. Do you have a preference on where we live?”
He sighs, leaning forward, a deep crease between his brows. “I’m not picky, but I was hoping you’d agree to live in Malfoy Manor. At least, until Greyback and his men are captured. It’s safe, heavily warded, and we can add your blood to the wards–”
“My blood will not be added to your wards, thank you very much,” I cut him off, shaking my head and scoffing. “And my home is perfectly safe against Greyback and his men, I have not had any issues since moving here. I don’t think they know it exists.”
He purses his lips, then leans back and flips through his folder before pulling out a sheet of paper and sliding it over to me. “These are all the documented attempts he has made on wards that were placed by the Head Auror on your case three miles from your property line.”
I skim the page, counting nearly twenty attempts in the past two years. “Who is the Head Auror on my case?” I ask, tilting my head to the side since I was always told it was information that couldn’t be diverged to me due for “confidentiality” reasons.
I look up at him when he remains silent, finding him looking down while he twirls his signet ring on his finger.
“Malfoy?”
He sighs and looks up at me, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s me. I asked Tonks not to tell anyone and keep my name off your files because I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, but I asked to take over your case after I signed on to the department and, since I provided the best ideas for ways to protect you, and had no reservations about keeping things from you or doing things behind your back like Potter did, they assigned me. Potter was sworn to secrecy, he legitimately cannot say a single word about me being your Head Auror. Magical contract and all that.”
I lean back in my chair, biting the inside of my lip, tapping my pen on top of the table as I absorb his words. I hold his gaze, trying to find any hint of regret or shame in his eyes, but find nothing other than determination and maybe even a little relief. I shake my head, straightening up and clasping my hands together on the table.
“Anything else you’ve kept a secret from me?”
“Oh, a lot of things, but not on purpose, we just never talk and you never seemed interested before,” he says with a hint of arrogance in his tone. “I did try to approach you on multiple occasions, but you were hellbent on ignoring me.”
I scoff, rolling my eyes. “I’m sorry if I wasn’t exactly welcoming your attempts at casual conversations after the way things went the last time we were together.”
“I apologized for that, and I explained everything to you–”
“Yes, you apologized and explained everything because some stupid Ministry law has decided we’re supposed to be in each other’s lives. Let’s be real, we wouldn’t have sought the other out without this law.”
“Maybe you wouldn’t have, but I was coming pretty damn close to showing up at your office to confess all my sins and beg for forgiveness. Fuck, Granger, I’ve been trying to make amends since I was in Azkaban. Why do you think I’m working as an Auror?”
I shrug. “I heard half of the Malfoy vaults were seized for repairs after the War. I assumed you needed the money.”
He throws his head back, laughing. “I’m an unpaid Auror. I volunteer my time.”
I frown, shaking my head. “You have your own team,” I point out.
“Theo also volunteers. Pansy gets paid, but she forwards all of it to the orphanage. Everyone else on my team is assigned by Tonks, but when I don’t need them, they go to Potter.”
“I didn’t know that,” I grumble.
He smiles softly at me, nodding. “I know. Don’t tell Pansy what I told you or she’ll cut out my tongue. She hates for people to know she’s soft.”
I nod, biting my lip against my own smile. “I think we got side tracked. Where were we?”
“Living arrangements,” he says softly.
I take a shaky breath in, nodding. I’d already come to a decision about where we should live, a few days after we got matched and I’d gone over the Ministry contract. But even knowing the decision I’d made, I was still nervous. Especially now looking at how oblivious I was while living here.
“I think it would be the smart choice to reside with you at Malfoy Manor. However, I have a few requirements.”
He nods, picking up his pen and scribbling something down in the margins. His elegant script is hard to read from where I sit, not that I’m trying very hard.
“I would like for us to have separate rooms,” I start, shifting in my seat as I await his response.
He looks up at me with a downturned smile, his eyes glittering with amusement. “Believe it or not, I actually figured we’d have separate rooms and have actually made the arrangements necessary.”
I smile sheepishly, biting my lip and looking down. “I guess I am a bit predictable.” I purse my lips, hesitating before asking the question that’s been on my mind. “Does your Mother still live in the Manor?”
“She does, but she has her own wing in the Manor,” he says slowly. He clears his throat, setting his pen down and combing his fingers through his hair. “Speaking of my Mother, she has asked if she could go dress shopping with you.”
I open my mouth, purse my lips, look towards my front door wondering if I can make a quick escape from the conversation, drag my eyes back to him and sigh. “I honestly wasn’t planning on going dress shopping at all, I was planning on just wearing something from my closet. No offense or anything, but it’s not exactly like we’re having some grand event, we’re literally being summoned into Kingsley’s office like we’re in trouble with the Headmaster and our punishment is marriage.”
Draco chuckles, nodding. “Well, don’t shoot the messenger, but Pansy has actually made an appointment at a bridal shop for you. I thought she mentioned it to you this morning, but I suppose not.”
I groan, leaning my head back to glare at the ceiling. “Of course she did. And she told you, but not me. Glorious.”
“She needed me to confirm that I was allowing them to bill me for whatever purchase was made during the appointment,” he says with a shrug.
I gape at him, blinking rapidly. “Wait, you’re not paying for my purchases. That’s another issue we need to go over. I don’t need you paying for my things or taking care of me. I have my own vault and I have ways to provide for myself. In fact, I’d like to pay rent while I live with you.” I cross my arms over my chest, tilting my chin up and raising my brows in challenge at him.
He raises a single brow at me, amusement flashing across his entire face before he laughs. “Uh, Granger, I don’t know where you got the idea that you’d be providing for yourself after we got married, but you can toss that in the bin. As your husband, it’ll be my duty to care for you. And trust me, I can afford it without issues. Any income or money you have coming into this marriage is solely yours, I will not touch any of it. But thank you for offering.”
“Well, that’s hardly fair and honestly a bit sexist,” I snap. “I refuse to let you care for me, I’ll purchase and handle anything I need with my own money, thank you very much.”
He leans forward, smirking at me and flashing me a devious smile. “Fine, but just know that whatever you spend on things I want to provide for you, will appear back in your vaults doubled. Spend a hundred galleons on books, and you’ll find yourself with two hundred galleons transferred to your vault within the hour.”
I scoff, shaking my head in annoyance. “You can’t do that.”
“What’s mine is yours, love. Are you really willing to play this game with me?”
“I don’t need access to your vaults,” I push the key back to him.
He slides it back to me. “Don’t care, you’re getting it. We can still have separate vaults, but I will not have anyone doubting whether or not I’m supporting you, and honestly, Mother has been complaining about nobody touching the funds so you might as well.”
“Malfoy, no.”
“Granger, yes. Like I said, spend your own money and I will just replace it with interest in your own vault.” He crosses his arms and leans back in his chair, biceps bulging under his shirt with the motion.
He holds my gaze in challenge, and I battle with myself on whether I could actually keep it a secret that I was spending my own money without him knowing. If I do it and he doesn’t find out, great. But if he somehow does have a way to find out when I spend my money, then I’d have to find a way to get rid of whatever he puts in my vaults without ending up with more.
“Fine, but only while we’re married,” I mutter after deliberating.
He pumps his fist in the air, grinning. “I knew you’d come around.”
I roll my eyes, biting the inside of my lip against a smile. “Well, you can tell your Mother that she is welcome to come dress shopping with Pansy and I. Will you be there too?”
“She will be very pleased,” he murmurs, his expression softening. “Thank you, it means a lot to me that you’d allow her to be there for that. I will not be there, I have my own appointment for formal wear with Theodore.”
I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Okay, perfect. So living arrangements are settled, as is apparently the financial situationship between us.”
He nods, scribbling something down before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a key. “You will have to come with me at some point in the next few weeks to get your magical signature added to the vaults, but until then, you can just use this key. I’ve already added you to all the Malfoy vaults, nobody should give you a hard time about accessing any of them, but if they do, please let me know and I’ll make sure the situation is handled appropriately.”
I inhale a sharp breath, nodding and setting the key to the side. It’s surprisingly heavy. “Thank you.” I bite my tongue, hard enough to taste the metallic tang of blood and look away. “I’d like to consummate our marriage as soon as possible,” I blurt out, blushing furiously at the way it sounds when it comes out.
He chuckles, tapping his pen and I look over, giving him an awkward smile before continuing.
“Not in the, I want to have sex with you way, although I’m sure sex with you would be great in theory. I mean it more in the I don’t want to have a deadline looming over us, and I want to make sure that when we do consummate it’s when I’m not fertile because I have no intentions of providing anyone with an heir, again, no offense, I’m sure you’re great, but I don’t want to go to Azkaban, and I’m sure you don’t either, so I’d like to take that burden off both our heads and keep us sane. I could provide you with a calendar of dates that would work, and I also picked up some condoms for you, since the Ministry can’t track if you’re wearing one when we do decide to–”
“Granger, breathe, you’re changing colors,” he cuts me off with a chuckle, shaking his head. “I actually had some thoughts on that though. Consummating, of course.”
I nod, swallowing and reaching for my wine glass, gulping greedily as I wait for him to continue.
“I was hoping we could date,” he admits. “I know that we are going into this in a backward way, but I think we had good chemistry in the past and I’d like to revisit that.”
I squint at him, shaking my head and scoffing. “We had great chemistry?” I parrot back to him.
He nods, closing his folder and clasping his hands on top of it. “I know things were complicated back then–”
“Oh, that is an understatement,” I mutter.
“But we had a connection. I’ve missed you, and I have spent more time than I care to admit thinking about you–”
“And yet you never reached out,” I snap sharply.
“You weren’t exactly approachable, Granger. And I did try to reach out, but my owl always came back with whatever letter I sent to you. I don’t know if you just saw the recipient and decided not to open it and sent him back on his way, or if he didn’t find your home, but I did try to reach out.” He purses his lips, brows drawn together. “Hermione, it’s no secret I had feelings for you in school. I might’ve tried to keep you at a distance, but even you had to have noticed how I felt for you.”
I shrug, cheeks burning. “We were children, things change, we change. Whatever you felt then doesn’t mean anything now, Malfoy.”
“I understand that, and all I’m asking for is a chance to court you properly. You will be my wife for as long as the Ministry deems necessary, and I’d like to take the opportunity to get to know you as a friend and as my wife. I want to know what makes you laugh, what makes you happy, the little things you look forward to, what hobbies you have,” he pleads.
I sigh, my irritation ebbing away the longer he pleads with me to give in with his eyes. “Who’s to say any of this is even going to work out? For all you know, you might resent who I am now.” I know I do.
“Impossible,” he murmurs. “If it doesn’t work out, then we at least get to say we tried and walk away as friends. But I am begging you, if there’s even a small part of you that is curious as to whether we could be more, please, please take the chance. I swear I have nothing but good intentions with you, I will do you no wrong.”
I bite my lip, chewing on it mercilessly. “What does this have to do with consummating?” I ask, hoping to change the subject a bit while I contemplate his request.
“I don’t want to have sex with you while we have no emotional connection. Friendly or otherwise. You said it yourself, we hardly know each other. I don’t think either of us would be comfortable in such an intimate situation as near strangers.” He smiles sheepishly.
I lick my lip, trying to soothe the ache from how much I’ve been chewing on it. “What would dating you look like?” I ask slowly.
His entire expression brightens. “I’d like to spend more time with you, for starters. I was hoping you’d be okay with us having at least one meal together every day, if our schedules allow it, of course, I don’t want to interfere with your work. We could go out on dates, get out of town together every once in a while, or anything you’d like really.”
“Okay,” I murmur.
“Okay?”
“I will date you,” I acquiesce.
He beams, and my stomach flutters at the sight of him smiling with his eyes so bright. “You won’t regret it, I promise.”
I give him a tightlipped smile, looking away and down at my papers. “You’re very sweet for wanting to try and make this work outside of the Ministry mandate. And you’re right, we were friendly before and maybe it could’ve been more. We’re different people now, but I would like to get to know this version of you. At the very least, we could be great friends.”
“Agreed,” he murmurs.
We sit in silence for a few minutes, and I skim through the rest of the marriage mandate. With a sigh, I close the folder, leaning back in my seat. “Is there anything else I should know? Do you have any requests?”
“There is one thing,” he says slowly. He stands and walks around the table, setting three small velvet, jewelry boxes before me. “I wasn’t wholly sure what style of wedding ring you’d like, so I brought a few options for you to choose from.” The lids open with a wave of his hand, revealing the beautiful, sparkling rings inside.
I gape, shocked at how beautiful they all look. The first one is a round cut diamond, with twining gold bands around it. The second is a pear shaped diamond, beautifully encased in smaller white diamonds, making it shine and stand out even more under the lights. The band is a plain gold, making the diamond the center of attention. The third is a marquise cut diamond sitting in a halo of tinier diamonds, with a paved silver band. Neither diamond seems to be under 2 carats. Each ring has a matching band of similar styles, and the matching groom’s band as well.
My throat goes dry as I look at them, then up at Draco sitting with a pensive look on his face as he watches me. “Malfoy, these are too much,” I finally manage. “I’m sure we could find something simpler.”
“I will not have my wife wearing just anything,” he says. “I want the best for my wife, and these are them.”
“It’s too much,” I repeat.
“I can do this all night,” he says, leaning forward. His face grows serious and my insides clench at the sight. “Would you prefer going to the vaults and picking something else out? Because you’ll be wearing something from my vault regardless of how much you argue, love.”
My mouth goes dry at his tone, the seriousness in his eyes. The possessiveness in his gaze has me squirming in my seat. I shake my head, trying to clear the thoughts from my mind and look down, sighing. “You’re insufferable,” I mumble, reaching forward and moving the marquise diamond to the side. “This one would be perfect,” I say softly. Something about the simplicity draws me to it and when I look up he’s smiling softly. “What?”
“That’s the one I told Mother I thought you’d like most,” he says with a shrug.
I flush, looking down at my lap. “Thank you. Again, you’re too kind.”
He shrugs, but the tops of his cheeks and his ears are pink. I smile at the sight, feeling my own cheeks tint pink.
“Anything else we should cover tonight?”
I glance down at my list, clicking my tongue and shaking my head. “That’s really all I had.”
He chuckles, leaning his elbows on the table. “Is it really? I was expecting a hundred clauses you’d want to go over and negotiate.”
“Well, I’ve never been married before, so I’m not quite sure how to do marriage negotiations.”
“Alright, fair. Well, in that case...”
He grabs my hands and tugs me to my feet, walking until we’re in my living room. He turns and drops to one knee before me.
“Oh, no, nope, get up,” I say quickly, trying to tug him to his feet. “This is not some romantic, Romeo and Juliet thing, please get up.”
He grins from ear to ear, holding my hand in one hand and reaching into his pocket with the other to pull out the velvet box. “Oh come on, Granger, I know you like the sight of me on my knee for you. I'll get on both if you prefer,” he winks and opens the lid, holding the box in front of me. “Hermione Jean Granger. I know the circumstances are weird, but I am grateful for the opportunity to get to know you better and build a relationship with you. I will do whatever it takes to make this good for you, you have my word. Will you do me the honour of accepting this proposal and becoming my wife?”
I roll my eyes, though a warm feeling spreads through my chest at how sincere he sounds. He keeps his eyes on my own, giving me a hopeful look. I bite my lip, nodding.
“Yes, Malfoy. I'll be your wife.”
He exhales and slides the marquise ring onto my ring finger, before pocketing the velvet box and standing, his arms wrapping around my waist as he twirls me around in the living room. I squeal, my arms instinctively going around his neck. “Put me down, you caveman!” I giggle.
“You won't regret it,” he promises as he sets me down, keeping his hands lightly on my waist. His eyes dance between my own before starting to my lips, leaning forward slightly.
I step out of his embrace, looking down at our shoes, swallowing the knot that's forming in my throat. The ring feels heavy on my left hand and I glance down at it, feeling it resize on my finger and a slight warmth around it. “You're sweet,” I finally say, looking up at him. “You didn't have to go out of your way to do this or to bring ring options. It was a really kind gesture, and it means a lot to me. Thank you, Malfoy.”
“Anything for you, Granger.” His words caress over my skin, blanketing me in warmth even when he steps back and towards the couch. “Shall we watch some telly and have some dessert? I will admit, I've not quite worked out the telly yet, but maybe you can teach me. I had some installed in the Manor, and Mother has been begging me to teach her how to use them.”
We spend the next three hours in the living room, both of us with our shoes kicked off and sitting on the couch flipping through channels. Draco seems like a kid on Christmas as he holds the remote, switching channels and staring in wonder at how many channels are available playing such a variety of things. I show him how to use the buttons, how to change the language on the TV, and we eventually settle to watch Family Feud - a show he finds hilarious and confusing as he learns some of the more common Muggle phrases. Throughout the night, I keep glancing down at the ring on my left hand, wondering just how this whole thing is actually going to go.
Notes:
Have a wonderful weekend, everyone! I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter <3