A/N: These chapters will be rather short, hopefully that means updates will be quick and the whole thing shouldn't be too long. As you may have surmised this a marriage law fic, but it takes place after the law has gone into effect for a few years. I hope you enjoy it!
oOo
Woken by the soft morning rays filtering in through windows made of Venetian glass, he stretched out lazily across cool silk sheets, all but purring his contentment. He enjoyed the rare occasion he was allowed to sleep in, having not much chance to do so growing up, Draco Malfoy now took full advantage of it in adulthood. Rolling over gracefully he reached out an arm, expecting to touch the smooth ebony skin of his sleeping wife, but when his hand was met by only more sheets, Draco languidly opened his eyes. Half lidded, his silver orbs searched the bed and then flew open with such speed it made him dizzy when he realized his room-their room- was empty.
Draco pushed the luxurious sheets of his half naked body and sat up, rubbing his temples and yawning. Where could she be? It was a Saturday, surely she hadn't gone into the office. Was there an appointment? Or a brunch meeting he'd forgotten? Salazar, they weren't supposed to meet with his mother were they? Momentary panic gripped Draco until he realized that no, they'd seen his mother for brunch last week- the woman loved brunch- and they wouldn't be seeing her again until the 8th. So where could his amber eyed wife be...?
Draco's pale face, amazingly, grew even paler as the events from the night before replayed themselves in horrifying detail through his mind.
They had fought. Which wasn't terribly surprising. Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger - she'd insisted on keeping her last name- fought constantly. However, in the past few years since the Marriage Law had gone into effect, Hermione and Draco's fighting had mostly evolved into good-natured bickering. Each trying to rile the other up, but not hurt or offend.
Until last night. When Draco had most certainly been attempting to hurt and offend.
Had she even gone to bed with him? Draco searched his thoughts. No, no she hadn't. She had left their house in a wild haired frenzy, rage filled expletives cascading from her mouth like water from the tap. Draco had been angry with her, his hands curled into fists as he remembered, uncontrollably angry. It had been like they were back at Hogwarts, petty children slinging insults like mud.
He had watched her stand in the middle of the living room waving a dark finger in his face and her voice hard as diamond. "I'm going to spend some time at Grimmauld Place. I need to clear my head."
"Oh sure, be a good little sidekick and run back to Potter." Draco had sneered. "I don't care where you go."
"No." Hermione had spat coldly. "No I don't suppose you do care, I don't suppose you care about much of anything except yourself. You're a child, Draco Malfoy, a spoiled child. I can't believe I let you talk me into living with you."
"Me?" Draco had tapped his hand against his chest."Talk you into living here? You practically begged to move in and I should have known it was a terrible idea. Father warned me-"
"Oh, good, that's fucking brilliant." Hermione had thrown her hands in the air. "Your wonderful father, Lucius Malfoy. How much do you tell him about our happy marriage?"
"Don't you speak of me father!"
"Why not? If you're talking to him about us then I get to talk about him! Y'know, considering how many time you spat 'My father will hear of this!' when we were at school, I can't say I'm surprised. You probably tell him when you use the loo as well, don't you, Draco?"
In hindsight Draco had to admit, Hermione did a startlingly excellent young-Draco impression, but at the time he had been beyond livid.
"Yes." His voice had gone cold with a viciousness that had made Hermione's pretty mouth snap shut and that had filled him with a sick satisfaction. Emboldened he had continued. "I do tell him about our marriage so that we can both lament the day the House of Malfoy was brought so low the heir was forced into relations with a lowly, pathetic Mudblood."
The word had rooted into his mouth like a poison, seeping into his blood and bones and making his stomach wretch. He had regretted it, immediately he had regretted it and before the apology could spill out his mouth she was gone. Disapparated away with a resounding pop and the last thing Draco had seen was the unadulterated pain in her honey colored eyes.
Maybe she was right and he was child, because the next thirty minutes had seen Draco finding every breakable in their house, smashing it, and then charming it back together so he could smash it again. Dipsy, the house-elf that Hermione had been so vehemently against getting, had followed Draco around the whole night, crying and begging him to sit.
He had tried to Floo-call Grimmauld Place, but it was locked so he'd smashed the fireplace mantle.
Draco had worked so hard to become the man no one had expected him to be, a man who wasn't a carbon copy of Lucius Malfoy. The War had changed him, it'd changed everyone and everything he knew and loved. Though the Marriage Law had been an archaic and ill-conceived means to boost the wizarding population of Britain, he had almost come to see it as a small blessing. He never would have found her without it and she never would have looked twice at him.
Draco went to the bathroom and threw cold water onto his face, trying to scrub away the last vestiges of the man he'd transformed into last night. When he went to their shared closet to grab a shirt, Draco froze, his heart dropping into his stomach so hard he could almost swear he heard it.
"D-Dispy!" He called and the house-elf Apparated into the room.
"Yes, master, Dipsy is here!" She said happily. "Shall Dipsy make-"
"Dipsy, when did Hermione come home?" Draco asked slowly, his wide eyes never leaving the now half empty closet.
"Oh dear, oh master." Dips began crying. "She came early this morning she did, the missus wouldn't let Dipsy wake you, she said to let you sleep and she came in and took all her clothes and..."
Draco couldn't hear the rest of what Dipsy was saying over the impossibly loud beating of his heart. Gone. She couldn't be gone. They were contracted. They had a law and a signed contract stipulating the conditions of their marriage. She couldn't walk away.
She had to come back.
"Wh-what did you say?" Draco suddenly asked.
Dipsy sniffled. "She left a letter for you, she did, told Dipsy to give it to you as soon as you woke up."
The tiny house-elf reached into the folds of her shirt and pulled out a parchment. Draco reached for the letter, his hands trembling. All at once through his mind flashed the image of her plump lipped smile, the feel of her wild chestnut hair, her dark face with the curious dusting of freckles across her small nose. She smelled of ink and old books and lavender and he wanted to roll in her scent and mark himself with it and let the world know that Hermione Granger was his.
Numbly he unfolded the letter.
Draco,
I have taken my things. Please, do not come after me. I need my time. I thought you had changed. I think I was wrong.
Expect an owl from my lawyer in the coming days.
Regards,
Hermione
What? No, that's impossible. The law was iron clad. Couples had to stay together for a minimum of ten years- it had only been six- or until a child was...conceived.
Draco dropped to the letter and watched it slowly float to the hardwood floor.
