A blood wedding sounded dark. It sounded unspeakable and dangerous, but it was the most beautiful thing that a person could ever do. The moon was full and high in the sky. The open field was quiet and it was empty save for the two people who had planned to vow their lives to one another. All they needed was each other; each other and a spell book that lay on the grass between them.

Hermione smiled as she sat back on her heels, staring at Draco who was sitting just the same. Her heart rushed at his gaze. He stared at her with a lust and love in his eyes that was reserved for her and her alone. It made her weak all over and he knew it. He knew it, not because of the way her skin flushed, or the way she casted her innocent gaze down to the left, or the sweet way she nibbled her bottom lip raw. Draco knew it because she made him just as feeble.

Draco smiled as he watched Hermione turn to the appropriate page in the book. Her dainty fingers settled after several pages in, and she brought her eyes to him, asking for reassurance without uttering the words. He placed his hand over hers and felt an uneasy, yet happy flutter in his stomach when her fingers curled in his.

Hermione took a deep breath and raised Draco's hand up from the book. Her thumb slid itself over the back of his hand and she melted at its warmth. She slowly turned it over and picked up his wand with her free hand to place it in his. Draco felt the wood in his grasp as Hermione gave her left hand to him. He regretting having to spoil her blemish-free skin, but the outcome was worth the trickle of blood that escaped the slash in her hand from the tip of her ring finger and curved to the bottom left of her palm.

A gasp came from her lips at the sudden pain, but a gentle kiss to her forehead was enough to numb it away. Hermione took up her own wand and sliced Draco's left hand just as he'd done with her. They both bled, but relished in the future consequences of their actions. Draco took her bleeding hand in his own and held it tightly. Hermione had read over the spell for weeks. It had become her lullaby as she repeated it to herself every night before sleeping in Draco's arms. She said it now like a prayer as the tip of her wand touched the pulse point on her wrist and then Draco's. It touched just over her heart and then just over his. It touched her forehead and then touched his. They both watched in amazement as a small stream of Draco's blood travelled from between his fingers and up Hermione's hand. It flowed up her arm and under her sleeve. She didn't need to see where it went. She felt where it went. Her blood had done the same; it had travelled directly to Draco's heart.

"By blood we are bonded," Hermione said in a breathless tone. "Our hearts and minds are one. Together we shall be, until death."

"Until death," Draco repeated.

The magic radiating from their hands had stopped. When they let their hands go, they found that the blood had stopped as well. A sudden rush of emotions hit Draco hard, and he pulled Hermione to him. He kissed her as though he would never see her again. His arms were wrapped around her small frame, her body pressed tightly against his. If anyone had told him that he could love someone with every inch of him, he would've told them that no such love existed. But in that moment he could feel her in him. He knew everything she feared, everything that made her smile, and just how much she loved him.

Draco knew how much his Hermione was dreading the morning. In the morning he wouldn't be there. In the morning he couldn't kiss her, or hold her, or run his hands over her skin as she slept. She would wake up alone and as empty as the void that he'd leave her with.

That's why they did this. It was why they had chosen to get married in one of the most archaic of ways. It was a way to be with one another no matter how far apart they were. It was a way to know that their loved one was thinking of them, was missing them, and was everything to other without having to leave it to cruel imagination.

Hermione felt the familiar tug of apparation and she found herself in her own home with her face buried in Draco's chest. He raised her head with a finger curled under her chin and stared at her lovingly. His expression was nothing compared to the erratic heartbeat that he was subjecting her to. It wasn't her own. It was his. Everything was his –his heartbeat, his trembling hands, his weak knees. Everything that was her had now belonged to him and him to her. Draco smiled at her realization, and Hermione smiled because he did.

They walked hand-in-hand to her bedroom and locked the door behind them. Draco rested his forehead on hers, his hands on her neck, thumbs drawing small circles on her cheeks. Hermione closed her eyes, his thoughts flowing freely through her mind as though they were her own. Her breath caught in her throat and she smiled as he kissed her neck just where the air had lodged. She felt a tear slide down her cheek as she thought this to be the last time Draco would slowly slide back her garments and let them cascade to the floor.

"No tears tonight," Draco whispered softly. Hermione nodded and felt her lips get lost with his. She marveled at the taste of blood on her tongue, soon after realizing that her nervous habit had gravitated to his own bottom lip. He chuckled at it, licking it away as she slipped his own clothing away from him.

How many times had they done this? How many times had they locked themselves away in their respective bedrooms to revel in each other's touch? To let Draco kiss every exposed ounce of flesh and hear her moan in pleasure? To let Hermione's fingers dig into his back with every move of his hips? And yet tonight was different. It wasn't just because they were now man and wife. It wasn't because they knew this would be the last time for possibly forever. It was because they were bonded; everything shared with the other from what pleasure point they wished the other to press to the coveted sounds they knew would be emitted before they actually were.

That night as they slept, they knew each other's dreams –happy memories piled together as a slideshow and illuminating how they had fallen in love. It was an endless mascarade; a masterpiece to be rewarded. But the ending was heartbreaking.

That morning, although Hermione had been in a deep sleep, she knew when Draco left. She had felt his arms around her, the kiss he had placed on her lips, and the ring he had slipped onto her finger before slipping from her life. She woke soon after he was gone, and when she realized that he wasn't coming back, Hermione cried.

What was worse was that she felt Draco cry with her.

Author's note: So I've had this written for some time and I vaguely remember writing this at some 3am with the same song on repeat. As of right now it'll remain a one-shot with a high possibility of more chapters to follow. For now, it's open-ended and I hope filling you with an intense set of emotions as it did for me when I wrote it :)

Reviews welcome!

-WP