Hi guys, this will be a very short 3 part fic. As always, I own nothing and these characters are not mine. Before reading on, please read the disclaimer below.

DISCLAIMER: Parts of this idea have been bouncing around in my head for a while but it kept evading me on how best to execute. I want to start by saying that while this has an M rating, it is not for violence and NO NON-CON. I may allude to violence to unnamed characters but you will not find anything untoward for our main characters. The idea is to explore the concept of consent within a difficult, fictional situation. So while I don't think anything here should upset anyone, I want everyone who chooses to read to understand that this touching on what could be sensitive for some people. I'm trying to give this the respect it deserves and I really don't like reading stories where romantic relationships involve non-con. Just doesn't make sense to me so you won't find that here. Regardless, this warning may seem unnecessary but I'm not taking any chances.


Memories

"Please state your name."

Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes as she sat primly in the uncomfortable chair. However, she kept her expression neutral as she made eye contact with Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"Hermione Granger."

He nodded calmly, no hint of their familiarity from the Order even though the entire Wizengamot knew.

"Relation to the accused?"

"Spouse."

"And what evidence do you provide on his behalf, Ms. Granger?"

"My memories," she stated simply.

Hermione could see him from the corner of her eyes. Kneeling in those hideous Azkaban rags while Harry stood at his side calmly holding the chain that led to the shackles around his wrists. He was filthy, she noted as he knelt with his shoulders slumped and head bowed.

Disgusting. She'd have to have a word with Harry after this was over about the state in which he'd arrived. She knew Azkaban wasn't under his jurisdiction as an auror, especially a relatively new one still, but she also knew his word meant something. As did hers. He'd bring up the idea and she'd drive it home.

The Wizengamot all nodded in interest after she'd claimed her memories as evidence. Rumors had swirled for the last eight months since she'd been recovered from the Death Eaters of what she'd endured, some nastier than others. How she'd been rescued with little more than a few scratches and being slightly underweight was something that had puzzled the magical community but she refused to speak with the Prophet, refused to speak with anyone unless it was to help his case.

"Very well," Kingsley answered. "Auror Smith, if you'll please extract Ms. Granger's memories."

Hermione sat calmly and waited as the woman in question approached her. She fought the urge to flinch when the tip of her wand settled gently at her temple. The strange sensation of having a flush of water through her ears nearly startled her but she remained calm as ever.

The auror approached a large pensieve and deposited the large sum.

Harry and Ron had asked her all too many times if she was certain about this but she saw no other way. He was marked. If she didn't offer the truth in a way that couldn't be misconstrued or argued with then she had no chance.

Kingsley and four others stepped down from their seats and gathered in a circle around the pensieve before leaning in and becoming encompassed in her memories.

Hermione closed her eyes then and felt those dark days wash over her in a heated array as she joined them in her mind.

She'd been left behind. Not intentionally but she'd not been able to grab onto Dobby and lost her footing as her already weak legs gave out on her.

Crumpled on the floor again, she feared the worst.

It had been him to drag her into the dungeon below Malfoy Manor. It had been him who'd chained her gently to the floor by both wrists.

He never met her eyes and she felt the shaking in his hands as he did so, wondering vaguely what all he'd seen in the last year.

She lost track of time and how long she'd been down there. Not long enough to starve apparently. She was much weaker than before even. Some wizard she didn't recognize pulled her from the dark cell, no care for how the light seared her eyes when they reemerged. He threw her carelessly to the floor and she felt dozens of eyes on her then.

Hermione held her breath as she lifted her head weakly and felt her heart hammer as the eyes of so many Death Eaters bore holes into her.

"Ah, Miss Granger," a dark voice spoke. His voice spilled across the room like oily paint on a canvas, dripping and causing her to shiver.

She swallowed against her dry throat and struggled to her knees when she saw him. Him. Voldemort himself sat at the end of the long table. He looked even more like an inhuman snake than she could have ever imagined and it made her feel sick.

"Lovely of you to join us," he smiled, and yet it was no smile at all. "I've plans for you. Plans for many of those like you. You see our numbers," he paused thoughtfully, "they could use fresh blood. Any blood really. And I've decided to bestow you on young Draco. He's disappointed me recently when he didn't manage to identify your friend, Mr. Potter, until it was too late. Therefore, he'll be one of the first to participate in my little project."

He stood from the table then and glided slowly around those seated. He stopped precariously behind Draco's chair and placed a long, cruel hand on his shoulder.

"Your father fears nothing more than a mudblood, does he, Draco? What about his son marrying one?"

Hermione watched through watery eyes as Draco swallowed, his head bowed slightly. Next to him, his father's jaw clinched but the man remained silent. His mother sat on the other side, no words for her son though she looked pale and sick at the thought.

"I have a good friend," Voldemort continued more brightly, "a friend from the Ministry actually. He's agreed to handle the binding for us. But you'll not be alone. Others who have failed me as well shall have their own prize soon. Some just as lucky as you, Draco. Their very own mudblood to fuck and impregnate. Some even luckier as I'll match them with more appropriate wives."

He turned then, his dark eyes glittering with hate as he eyed the three Malfoys. "Let this be your punishment. Yet a halfblood isn't as bad as a mudblood. We can dispose of them once they've served their purpose."

In the present, Hermione inhaled deeply as she emerged from her own memory. It was likely one of the worst she could stomach to recall. It was too painful to recall the way he'd looked at her as she'd been made to stand in front of him, reciting empty vows that neither wanted as they were bound together as husband and wife.

He'd been horrified and she'd felt sick. They expected her to give him an heir and then they'd kill her.

Draco jerked on her arm as he pulled her from the Malfoy's ballroom. She stumbled behind him as he turned left then right and left and right again and again until she lost her way. He stopped in front of an ornate door, details she couldn't truly take in yet before he opened the door and shoved her inside.

"Sit," he barked and pointed a stiff arm at his bed.

As soon as the binding had been done, they'd placed dull silver rings on their fingers, effectively completing the bond before Draco had been ordered to take her as he pleased.

Hermione had said not a word minus what was asked of her, her usual independent and bossy demeanor gone.

She managed to make it to the bed and balanced precariously on the edge, afraid to dirty his expensive bedding with her soiled clothes. Even she wouldn't have wanted someone in her state to touch her clean things.

He began to pace near the doorway, muttering to himself absently. She said not a word as she waited, silently praying he'd be gentle at least. That he wasn't the monster Harry had always believed him to be. Surely, there was at least an ounce of redeeming qualities within him.

A soft knock on the door stopped him and he quickly approached, pressing his ear to the door. He opened it finally and his mother slipped inside carefully.

"This is beyond unreasonable," she shook her head at him.

"There's no point in complaining, mother. What's done is done. Did you bring them?"

Narcissa Malfoy turned and looked at Hermione for the first time then. Not even during the binding had she spared the young woman a look.

From within her robes, she pulled a small black bag, small enough to fit in the palm of her hand. With a flick of her wand it enlarged and Draco snatched it quickly.

"Get her into the bath," he ordered with his back to them as he began unpacking the bag on his desk in the far corner of the room.

Hermione realized that she hadn't taken any time at all to examine what was clearly his bedroom. Her current mental state was beyond caring.

Narcissa approached her carefully and slowly touched her chin with surprisingly gentle fingertips. She lifted Hermione's head until their eyes met and her lips twisted.

She shook her head and appeared oddly sad before she lifted Hermione under her arms as she walked her into Draco's bathroom.

"There's no getting out of this now," she spoke gently as she flicked her wand at the taps of the grand bath. "Bathe yourself and then Draco will have you."

Kingsley stood from the pensieve as did the four others and eyed her sadly.

Hermione sat calmly and waited as their pitying expressions all fell on her.

"He didn't hurt you," he confirmed.

"No," she agreed. "Draco was gentle with me. He wasn't even going to consummate the marriage but I knew if we didn't then Voldemort would know. He'd sift through our minds and he'd know. We had to at least the once. And I convinced him that I was right. That was later confirmed when another couple attempted to not consummate their marriage and he found out."

The five all nodded and took a deep breath before they dove back into her memories.

Hermione watched as he slipped back inside his room carefully, laying a hand against the wood as he closed the door, and muttering wards.

He approached her as she sat on his bed, one of his books in hand. After their more than uncomfortable first consummation, things were still rather awkward.

Hermione still hadn't managed to wrap her mind around the fact that he'd enjoyed her body. Told her as much in the heat of the moment. Not in disgusting insults or innuendos but oddly kind and encouraging words that were meant to relax her, to calm her.

She'd not climaxed, knew the chances were low as it was her first time and she was far too nervous, especially given the nature of the situation. However, he'd not run for the shower as soon as he'd finished. Instead, he lay beside her panting as an odd form of relief washed over her. The oddest thing was that after he'd caught his breath, he'd gone to his bathroom and returned in a pair of black pajama bottoms. He crossed to his desk for his wand and with a simple flick, cleaned her again. He'd then made her sit up in bed, not arguing when she covered herself with his sheets, and made her eat the food his mother had smuggled in for her. Not a word of explanation and she didn't ask about that kindness, merely accepted it for what it was.

Relief had settled as they'd managed the most difficult part. She could only hope she didn't actually become pregnant with his child after just the one time. Only time would tell now.

She couldn't call him friendly those first few weeks but he seemed to feel some odd need to protect her and she surely wasn't going to argue that at all.

He allowed her to read his books while he did whatever it was they made him do during the day. At night, he returned from supper, as she was not generally invited nor did she want to be. He snuck her extra food as they brought her the most disgusting and barest of portions otherwise.

Tonight he had more food and a book to offer as he sat on the edge of his bed in front of her. She'd traded one cell for another, but at least this one had pillows and a bath.

"You're too thin," he frowned as he eyed her.

He'd transfigured a few of his own clothes into something that would fit her.

Hermione stared at him for a moment as she chewed the bread he brought her. "Not at thin as you've told me the others are."

Draco shook his head stubbornly, "When Potter sees you though…"

He stopped, his mouth clamped shut then. It was clear they both had hope then.

A scream resonated through the halls outside of his room and Hermione cringed. They tortured some of the others. Or flat out forced themselves on them.

Draco drew his wand as he always did when they heard those screams. They kept her up at night as she slept by his side. He allowed her that.

When she started to shake in fear, he drew her close without even asking. He held her head to his chest, a flat palm over her ear as they both cringed at the sound of more screams.

"I can't save you all," he muttered weakly. "I just can't, Granger."

"I know," she gritted her teeth as more screams continued. "Just don't let go."

Draco nodded against her clean hair. He always made sure she was clean. He pressed his lips to her temple then, his first mistake. His first intimate gesture that showed his changing feelings for her.

As more of Voldemort's projects emerged, Draco began to huddle around her at night. He fit himself snugly at her back and tucked her close, both cringing whenever they heard the screams or the unmistakable sounds of sex.

On one of Voldemort's more charitable days, she was invited to eat at Draco's side.

She could feel their greedy eyes on her as she nibbled carefully on the bread with her meal, all too aware of Draco to her right and his mother to her left. Eating was a chore under such scrutiny but his mother kept discreetly adding more potatoes to her plate.

"How is it I never hear you two," Greyback accused suddenly, breaking the chattering and dark laughter around them.

Draco lifted an arrogant brow as he lifted his head and set his fork down carefully. "Pardon?"

"I never hear you fucking your little mudblood. All the others scream so sweetly. Why not yours? Can't get it up for her, boy?"

Draco sneered at the werewolf seated across from them. "Maybe I like her quiet," he lied. "The screaming throws off my own concentration."

Hermione kept her eyes on her plate, knowing full and well not to argue or even speak. It was survival.

"Grow up, boy," the werewolf snarled, "and take her like a fucking man. She only has the one use anyway."

Lying in bed next to him that night, Hermione tried to forget the lascivious looks she'd received and the words they'd said about her, in front of her. Draco had played his part—called her disgusting and tried to blame their lack of activity on his lack of attraction, his lack of interest in her blood.

She stared at the ceiling as he lay next to her, his hands resting on his stomach as he, too, stared at the charmed ceiling. He'd made it look like the night sky when she'd admitted a liking for the stars after he found her reading one of his astronomy books.

"They're going to know you were lying if we don't," she finally spoke quietly.

Draco groaned softly. "I'm not going to force you. I'm not that kind of monster."

She nodded to herself. No, he truly wasn't a monster. She questioned whether he believed the things that the others did. Whether he truly earned that mark on his arm. From what she could discern, he'd been coerced, forced even. Maybe he didn't like muggles but he wasn't the killing, torturing type. He didn't have the stomach for it.

Who would have known that Draco Malfoy was good underneath the sneering and lies he regurgitated from his father.

"You wouldn't be forcing me," she responded after a tense moment.

She felt him shift onto his side to see her. In the darkness with nothing but the charmed ceiling, she could make out the faintest bits of his features. His short blonde hair fell over his eyes when he didn't comb it back. He wasn't the bulky sort like Ron but he wasn't thin either. Under normal circumstances, she'd have thought about how she found him attractive.

She swallowed when she felt his warm hand on her stomach, burning her even through the thin cotton shirt she slept in.

"You're sure?"

Was he eager? He'd not asked once after they'd done it the one time that they absolutely had to.

"I wouldn't be offering if I wasn't."

She could sense his smirk, the one she'd not seen since last year, emerge on his face at her bossy tone. Even she hadn't heard herself sound…like herself in ages.

She felt the bed shift and slowly his large frame was hovering over her. His hand moved the shirt up her stomach until he could palm one of her breasts. She felt herself shiver when he brushed a thumb over the peak. She closed her eyes for a moment as she remembered the way he'd sucked it last time and the way it had felt.

"You'll let me know if you change your mind," he asked. "You can change your mind at any time, Hermione. I swear on my wand I won't get upset. I've been made to do some horrible things. Please let that one sliver of my soul stay clean."

"I'll let you know if I change my mind," she breathed. He'd said her name. Her given name.

Perhaps it was just his arousal speaking but her name on his tongue felt far more intimate than even the moment when he parted her lips for the first time and tasted her mouth.

He'd not kissed her on the mouth the first time, trying to arouse her by kissing along her neck and chest instead. The moment their mouths connected she felt the world around them blur. There was nothing but this boy…more of a man than any other in that cursed manor…kissing her.

She allowed him to rid her of her sleepshirt and underwear. He was heavy at her inner thigh then and she was surprised to find herself eager for him.

She could vaguely hear the bed creaking under their weight as he made gentle but thorough thrusts into her, groaning when her slender fingers brushed along his neck before fisting in his hair when he hit a spot that made her back arch. A part of her noted the way his tongue felt as it trailed along her skin, tasting her as though she wasn't dirty the way the others believed her to be. With his weight over her, pressing her into the bed and stroking her into a quickly building fire, she didn't notice the sounds of the manor that normally bothered her. She didn't notice anything but the heat of him and the way he was touching her.

How long had he been holding this in, she wondered. She'd never been especially attracted to him in school, mostly because his personality had been such a horrible turnoff. She wondered who was this man now making love to her. Because this didn't feel like what she imagined sex felt like, nor even just fucking. He was doing something entirely more intimate.

She felt her back arch again when he slid deeper, his fingers sliding between their sweaty bodies to stroke along her most sensitive area.

"You're close," he muttered at her ear as he stroked her faster.

Close indeed. Stars burst behind her eyes and she moaned quietly as she felt him crash along with her.

Hermione swallowed when they all stood straight again after the last set of memories. She didn't much enjoy allowing that private moment opened to so many but it felt necessary. They needed to know who he truly was underneath the lies. It hurt to remember. It was a flawed situation and yet he'd done everything he could for her.

He wasn't a monster. He shouldn't have to rot with those that truly were.

She'd spent months recovering after she'd been rescued at the final battle. Draco had gripped her hand so tightly before he'd been pulled away from her and filed away with the other Death Eaters.

No one had listened to her at first. They couldn't comprehend the idea that Draco Malfoy had protected someone like her and were too horrified by the other survivors' stories to listen. She'd had to show Harry and Ron those memories just to get them to see reason.

They'd been so horrified but startled as well to learn the truth. By that time, her husband—as he still was in the eyes of the law—was rotting in his cell in Azkaban. She'd refused to sign the papers that would have dissolved the marriage, a one-time offer, knowing she was his only chance at freedom.

She'd fought for months to even get the opportunity to appeal to the Wizengamot. Harry had been a big help in that.

Kingsley and the others returned to their bench to discuss what they'd seen. She waited as patiently as she could but couldn't help but become irritable the longer they whispered amongst themselves.

"The Wizengamot finds Mr. Malfoy innocent of the charges against him regarding your treatment, Ms. Granger. As a result, we agree to release Mr. Malfoy into your custody. As he is not responsible for any murders, he will serve probation of no less than one year. His behavior in custody has been exceptional and the guards all report he shows great remorse for the things he was forced to do."

Hermione watched with bated breath as Kingsley nodded at Harry. Ron, who'd been standing at the back, stepped forward and helped Harry pull Draco to his feet finally.

Kingsley banged his gavel and the room erupted into a curious buzz of conversation. Ron approached her as she stood finally to watch as they freed him.

She swallowed and reached into her small bag for the clothes she'd brought with her. She handed them to Ron.

"I underestimated his size," she frowned. "I thought he'd have lost more weight."

Ron shrugged as he eyed the wizard now being unchained. "They've been using him and the others to rebuild parts of Azkaban. Kingsley's been quite insistent on more humane treatment so they eat well enough." He turned back to face her, resting a hand comfortingly on her shoulder. "You're sure you want to bring him home with you? You feel comfortable?"

Hermione didn't miss the hurt look that flitted across Draco's face briefly when he saw Ron touching her shoulder before he was led out of the room to be allowed to cleanup.

"Yes, Ron, I'm positive."


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