Sunshine flowed through the large bay windows of the bedroom, bathing Hermione's sleeping form with warm light. The welcoming warmth woke the young wife up, though she kept her eyes closed, listening intently for signs of her husband. Hearing nothing, she yawned and opened her eyes—the room was empty.

Hermione pushed back the blue velvet covers and got out of bed. She quickly made the bed and headed for the shower. The bathroom was large and luxurious, but Hermione cared only that there was a lock on the door that Rhys would be unable to break.

During one of the few times that she had been allowed to have possession of her wand, Hermione had placed a charm on the lock to allow only the person who had locked the door could unlock it. This way, she had one room in the entire house where she could absolutely not be disturbed. So far, Rhys had been oblivious to this little addition to his bathroom lock.

When Hermione descended the stairs dressed in white cutoffs and a red t-shirt, she expected to have the house to herself, since it was eight thirty; Rhys normally left for work between six forty five and seven in the morning. Humming quietly, she entered the kitchen to make breakfast for herself. Though they did have a house elf to do the cooking, Hermione preferred to cook for herself when she was alone.

"Good morning, dear," Rhys said, looking up from the Daily Prophet he was reading at the dining room table. He was not dressed as he usually did for work; instead of his gray work robes, he wore simple black robes.

Hermione froze at seeing him, her good mood instantly shattered. "Good morning," she replied, offering a small smile to him.

Rhys returned her smile in kind.

To cover her confusion at his presence, Hermione went to the shining stainless-steel coffeemaker and poured herself a cup of coffee.

"Today, I thought we'd go to the dressmaker in Diagon Alley and have you fitted for a dress—the Ministry of Magic's annual ball is coming up," Rhys said, his eyes back in the paper. "Then, we can stop in for lunch at Delacour's, followed by a bit more shopping. I do need some new dress robes."

Hermione sat down at the table across from Rhys, her coffee in hand. She shakily took a sip, her anxiety level instantly at a high by the news that she was to spend all day shopping with Rhys.

"Well?" Rhys looked up impatiently at her lack of response. "Flicker, get some breakfast cooked up already," he ordered the house elf.

"That sounds like fun," Hermione lied, dread seeping through her. She was angered by the tone that Rhys used towards their friendly house elf, though she said nothing. She had long since learned not to contradict her volatile husband.

Flicker scurried over to the table with two plates and placed them before Hermione and Rhys.

"Good," Rhys said. "We'll leave in an hour."

Breakfast was a subdued affair for Hermione—Rhys spoke fervently of the millions of Galleons he had gained from his business dinner the night before and all the people that he knew in the Wizarding world who would also be interested in his invention. No mention was made of the fact that Hermione had originally given him the idea. Hermione's only job was to sit quietly and appear interested in whatever he said.

When Rhys talked about his work, it was easy for Hermione to pretend that he was the man that she had married, for he was neither yelling at her nor criticizing her.

Just as Rhys put his fork down and stood to leave the kitchen, a handsome eagle owl flew through the window and landed on his shoulder.

Hermione watched curiously as Rhys tore open the envelope, which was a heavy parchment sealed with an elaborate crest. The owl flapped its wings heavily and soared back out of the mansion the same way it had come in. Rhys read the letter, a slow smile spreading across his face as his eyes moved down the page.

"What does it say?" Hermione asked tentatively, sure that anything that made Rhys smile boded ill for her.

Rhys looked at her, his eyes alight with excitement. "We have been invited to dinner by Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy at Malfoy Manor tomorrow night."

Hermione froze in mid-bite, her fork halfway to her mouth. Dinner at the house of a former Death Eater? Not to mention the house where Draco Malfoy lived—and after him witnessing her embarrassment of the previous night, Hermione had even more reason not to want to see him again.

"I must have made an even better impression on the younger Malfoy than I thought," Rhys mused, rereading the invitation once more.

"Rhys," Hermione said hesitantly. "Is it really safe to go to the home of a former Death Eater? Aren't you worried that this could be a plot to kill you and get your business?" She silently congratulated herself as she subtly hit all Rhys's secret fears. He was a coward who could never take on a fully trained Death Eater, and he was ever paranoid of schemes to overthrow him and his company. Hermione knew that it was this paranoia behind his insistency in keeping her wand away from her, as he needed to feel in control at all times.

Rhys's face darkened with suspicion, just as she had predicted. "Yes, perhaps this is all an elaborate lure to get me away from my house and murder me for my business."

Had she not been so desperate to get out of this dinner invitation, Hermione might have laughed at her husband's gullibility. The thought that the Malfoys would need to lure Rhys away from his house in order to kill him was just as ludicrous as the idea that Rhys's business was so important that someone would even want to kill him.

"Yes!" Rhys shouted loudly, slamming his fist on the table. "I see it now!" He laughed grimly, but the laughter had an edge of hysteria. "Well, they won't get away with this—trust me."

Hermione relaxed. Surely, Rhys would decide against going over to Malfoy Manor for dinner the next day.

"We shall go to Malfoy Manor tomorrow night," he declared loudly. Hermione groaned inwardly. "I'll show those murdering, thieving monsters that Rhys Morenci is not a man who runs away from anything."

Hermione sighed; this had not gone exactly as planned. For the next twenty minutes, Rhys blustered on and on, informing both Hermione and the disinterested house elf that he was no coward and that he would end up on top at the end of this battle.

It's lucky that he never had to fight real Death Eaters or Lord Voldemort himself, /iHermione thought to herself. Then he'd know what a real battle was.Of course, thinking about fighting Death Eaters made her think of Harry and Ron, whom she missed desperately.

Harry was currently dating Ginny Weasley—no surprises there. Their relationship was going quite well. The last time Hermione had spoken to Harry, he was considering proposing to Ginny. Hermione wondered if he had gotten up the courage to do that yet. There really wasn't any reason for him to be nervous, since Ginny was completely in love with him and would probably say yes before Harry even finished the words, "Will you marry me?"

At that time, Ron had been between relationships; his last one had left him completely and totally heartbroken when his girlfriend—a girl he had met at his job in the Auror Department of the Ministry of Magic—had cheated on him with one of Ron's colleagues. When Hermione had last seen Ron, he had sworn off women forever. She doubted he'd stuck with that.

"Rhys," Hermione said, when there was a break in her husband's self-praising rant. "I'd really like to see Harry and Ron sometime soon." She braced herself for what was sure to be an onslaught of insults.

"And I'd really like to win the Gringotts Lottery, but it isn't going to happen, sweetheart," Rhys said without missing a beat. His green eyes focused calmly on her as he folded his newspaper and placed it neatly on the table before him.

Hermione's heart sank, but she didn't give up. "I haven't seen them in over a month, and I miss them," she said determinedly.

The dangerous look slid into Rhys's dark eyes. "Am I not man enough for you?"

"Rhys, you know it's not that, I just—"

"Then why do you need them?" Rhys's voice built to a yell.

"Because they're my best bloody friends and I love them!" Hermione finally yelled, matching his volume. She knew that she was asking for trouble by losing her temper, but this was something that she would not give in about: the right to see her best friends.

"You stupid little bitch!" Rhys growled, advancing on her. Hermione flinched at his use of profanity, but otherwise remained still. "After all I've done for you—given you a home, clothes, money—you can't even show a little respect for me. I work hard every day to give you everything you desire, and this is what—"

"I don't desireanything from you!" she cried, dodging his fist. "Just love and respect!"

Rhys, his face red and angry, pulled out his wand. He shot a hex at Hermione, who couldn't duck quickly enough. The stinging hex hit her on the right arm, leaving an angry red welt.

"You may not see them!" he screamed, his wand aimed directly at her heart; several sparks shot out of the tip, reflecting Rhys's anger. "I forbid it!"

Hermione looked him straight in the eyes, tears filling her brown eyes. She could feel her lip trembling with hurt and sadness. As she lost the battle with her tears, she turned and fled the room, heading for the library

Rhys did not follow her, and several minutes later, Hermione heard the sound of the muggle television playing in the living room. She collapsed into one of the leather couches that was in the elaborate library and sighed. To escape from her thoughts, she grabbed a book from one of the shelves and began to read.

Hermione read for the duration of the day—to her relief, Rhys left her alone—without eating or even leaving the library. It appeared that Rhys had forgotten about his shopping trip.

When it grew dark, Hermione felt under her favorite chair for the two items that lay neatly folded beneath it. She pulled out a pillow and soft blanket. Going to the very back of the library, Hermione laid out the blanket on the soft, plush carpet and curled up on it with her pillow. Though her arm still burned from the hex, she managed to fall asleep relatively quickly, praying that Rhys wouldn't decide to go find her.

Hermione was awoken the next morning by their house elf, Flicker.

"Mistress must wake up!" insisted Flicker, tapping her on the shoulder with frantic fingers.

Hermione sat up, wincing at the pain in her back from sleeping on the floor. The sun shone brightly through the window, indicating that it was at least ten o'clock. "What's wrong, Flicker?" she asked sleepily. The house elf looked terrified. Her knobby knees were shaking and her eyes were huge.

"Master is furious," Flicker chattered. "He wants Mistress right away!"

Hermione yawned and got to her feet. Her stomach fluttered nervously as she wondered what had happened to make her husband so angry. The burn on her left arm still hurt where she had been hexed the night before; stinging hexes took days to heal if they were left to heal on their own.

"It'll be okay, Flicker. I'm on my way," she reassured the frightened house elf. Hermione walked through the mansion quickly, calling out her husband's name.

"Hermione! Get in here!" screamed Rhys, his voice coming from the kitchen. When she walked through the doorway, she saw that her husband really was absolutely insane with anger. His face was red, his eyes were bulging, and his mouth was curved in a furious snarl as he read from the Daily Prophet. "I do not believe this. I simply do not believe this!"

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked, desperately trying to keep her voice from trembling.

"There's been another product just released on the market that does the exact same thing that mine does!" he yelled, grabbing the neck of her t-shirt and pulling her face right up in front of his. "This could ruin my entire business," he hissed. "And do you know who it is? Roald Cyrus! The very slime that I invited into my home and made a business deal with! It seems it was not Malfoy we needed to be worried about—it was Cyrus!"

Hermione flinched back from the spittle that was flying from Rhys's mouth in his fury.

Rhys let go of her shirt and she fell backwards, catching herself on the counter before she fell.

"This is all your fault!" he snarled, advancing on her with his wand raised. "If you hadn't spilled that wine like the clumsy little whore you are, this would not have happened!"

"Rhys, please calm down," Hermione pleaded. "You have a patent on your product; what Cyrus is doing is illegal. Just tell the Magical Law Enforcement and they'll—"

The slap came without warning. She reeled backwards, her already hexed arm hitting the counter as she fell to the floor.

"I have a way to fix this," he said quietly, glaring down at his shaking wife on the floor. "You will go to Cyrus and…persuade…him to drop his product. You're quite beautiful when you try to be. I'm sure access to your body will be more than enough to convince him."

"Rhys, please," Hermione said, rubbing her cheek where she had been struck. "Just seek litigation against him. You own the patent—he'll be forced to relinquish his product and pay you for anything he has already sold…"

"But, see," Rhys said dangerously, "that's a lot of work for me to do, when all I really have to do is have my pretty little kitten do a little something for Cyrus. Don't worry—I'll imbue you with all the spells against diseases and pregnancy before you go. Wouldn't want any little bastard children running around, would we?" Rhys smirked. "Who knows, you may even like it. But I doubt it. I hear Cyrus likes his women tied up and begging."

Cold fear swept through the young woman. She didn't want to be hit again, but she had to try once more to persuade him to let go of this horrible idea. She got to her feet and walked to her husband, giving him a peck on the cheek. "But Rhys, the only man I want is you," she said quietly. She ran her hands down his chest and toyed with his belt buckle, hoping that his lust would overcome his greed.

"And the only woman I want is one who is showered and well-dressed," Rhys replied harshly, walking away from her.

Hermione's heart sank. She wished with all her heart that Rhys could be the man she'd thought he was when she married him. "Rhys, don't make me do this, please. When we got married, I vowed to be faithful to you. I don't want to break that vow! I love you, and you're the only man I want."

"Don't worry, Hermione. You'll still have me! But this is necessary for me to save my business, and as my wife, you should want to preserve my business, too. You will do as I command, as soon as I can set you up a meeting with Cyrus," Rhys said as he walked to their bedroom to dress for work. "And don't forget to be prepared for dinner tonight at Malfoy Mansion," he called over his shoulder. "I'll pick you up at 5 o'clock tonight. Be ready. Do wear that red dress we bought you last week."

Once Rhys was gone, Hermione sat at the table and ate breakfast that Flicker cooked for her. Her mind spun with plans to get out of sleeping with Roald Cyrus. She didn't like the look of that man. He had said little to nothing during dinner, preferring simply to listen to what the others were saying and looking Hermione up and down when Rhys wasn't watching. He was the head of Cyrus Gaming, an enormous company that produced many Wizarding games such as Gobstones, Wizarding Chess, and Exploding Snap. Cyrus himself was known as a cold, ruthless man who would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. It was enough to make Hermione shudder just thinking about him. She didn't quite understand why her jealous, possessive husband would actually be forcing his wife to sleep with another man, but then again, the most important thing to Rhys was not his wife—it was his precious business.

If only she had her wand, then she could leave him…but, Hermione asked herself, would she really leave her husband? He was the only thing she had. Ron and Harry would by this time be busy with their own lives and her parents were on an extended holiday in America. She had no money of her own and nowhere to go. Plus, no matter how badly he treated her, he knew just how to make her forget it all, with the gentle words and sweet demeanor that he could adopt at a moment's notice.

"Oh, Flicker, what am I going to do?" she asked the kind house elf.

"Is the breakfast not tasty enough, Mistress? Flicker will make something else," Flicker insisted anxiously.

"No, the breakfast is delicious," said Hermione sadly, getting up to wash her dishes in the sink. "I don't know why Rhys has turned into such a monster. It's his business—it really is. I never should have told him my idea about the Insta-Message..."

The day passed too quickly while Hermione cleaned the house. Flicker hovered about, wanting to help, but Hermione refused to let her. She hated the idea of an innocent, enslaved creature serving her when she was perfectly capable of doing the work herself.

When 3 o'clock came, she took a shower and began to get ready for the dreaded dinner at Malfoy Mansion. The only good thing about this Cyrus business is that now Draco Malfoy isn't my first worry, thought Hermione while she rubbed shampoo into her long, brunette hair. All I have to do is get through tonight with his family, and then I'll figure out what to do about Roald Cyrus. After all, maybe Malfoy doesn't even recognize me. He certainly didn't show it last night.

Once out of the shower, she dressed in the red dress that Rhys had ordered her to wear. It was her least favorite out of the many dinner dresses that she owned. It was an extremely low-cut dress that showed quite a bit of cleavage and emphasized her breasts. The top was tight-fitting around the chest and then flowed down loosely around her waist. It was a long, ballroom-type dress that Rhys liked her to wear whenever he wanted to show her off. She put on Harry's sapphire pendant and a simple diamond bracelet that Rhys had bought her to match her wedding ring.

She dried and curled her hair, which she wore down. She sprayed hair spray in her hair that had subtle glitter in it that she knew Rhys liked. For makeup, she put on a little eyeliner and lipstick. When she looked in the mirror, the only thing that looked out of place was the hex on her arm. To fix that, she donned black elbow-length gloves, which hid the mark nicely. By the time she finished, it was just five minutes to five, and she hurried downstairs to meet her husband, whom she prayed was in a good mood.

Rhys apparated into the house at exactly five o'clock. He eyed Hermione appreciatively. "You look absolutely sexy," he murmured. "I don't even feel like going to the Malfoy's now—not when I have something as delectable as you just waiting here to be devoured."

He lowered his head and kissed her deeply. Hermione kissed him back, hoping that for once he would be kind and that the two of them would have a pleasant night. Rhys wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close in a deep, passionate kiss. Hermione's heart lifted, thinking that she was wrong about Rhys. Suddenly, she felt his hand groping her behind and her heart sank. He was only acting like this because he wanted her body.

Rhys broke the kiss. "Regrettably, we must be off," he sighed. He was already dressed in his best dress robes, which were a dark brick-red that went well with Hermione's dress.

He grabbed Hermione's upper arm and turned in place, transporting her along with him to the extravagant Malfoy Mansion.

The two of them reappeared outside the enormous mansion. The tall, black, wrought-iron gates loomed over them, giving Hermione a chill, though the evening was quite warm. Two peacocks walked idly around inside the gates, their beaks nuzzling through the grass for bugs or worms. With barely a sound, the gates slowly opened by themselves.

"Come, Hermione," Rhys said imperiously, pulling Hermione forward so abruptly that she nearly fell in the matching red heels she was wearing. "And try not to make a fool of yourself tonight. Mr. Malfoy does a lot of business with a lot of companies that I need to be on the good side of."

"I won't, Rhys," Hermione sighed, trying to keep up with him.

The front lawn of Malfoy Manor was so large that it took nearly five minutes for Rhys and Hermione to cross it. "There IS such a thing as too big," growled Rhys, clearly feeling insignificant at the sheer size of Malfoy Manor

They approached the door, which was opened the second they reached it by Lucius Malfoy, his wife standing serenely by his side.

"Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Morenci," Narcissa Malfoy said warmly, holding out her hand for Rhys to kiss. She drew Hermione close to her and gave the younger woman a kiss on the cheek, which Hermione returned. Narcissa was wearing a long blue dress that was studded with diamonds on the seams. An expensive pearl necklace rested on the delicate neck, and jeweled rings adorned every other finger. She looked much younger than Hermione knew her to be. She had long, straight blonde hair that perfectly matched that of her husband and son.

Lucius Malfoy was wearing black dress robes with green accents. His blonde hair looked much as it had the night that Hermione had dueled him in the Department of Mysteries her fifth year. A shiver ran through Hermione as she remembered that night. From what she'd heard, Lucius Malfoy's story about being under the Imperius spell had been quite true (proven under Veritaserum), so she knew that she had nothing to fear from him, but it still made Hermione want to be wary of him.

Lucius leaned forward and kissed Hermione's hand politely after shaking Rhys's. "We are pleased to have you at our home. Please come in."

Rhys and Hermione walked inside Malfoy Mansion. Hermione had to restrain herself from gasping. The entryway of the house was huge, with a glass ceiling that allowed the last fading light from the sunset to enter the room. Soft yellow light came from floating orbs around the room.

"My son will be joining us shortly," Lucius said, leading the way for them into the drawing room. "Dinner will be ready in about an hour. Before, please enjoy some tea and cake just through here."

Hermione sat in the chair next to Rhys, who placed a hand possessively on her thigh. A tortoiseshell cat napped on the windowsill. Narcissa snapped her fingers and a house elf came scurrying in with a pot of tea and a tray of cakes. The house elf began to pour the tea into five teacups.

Hermione looked around the room, wondering where Draco Malfoy could be. She hoped he took his time wherever he was. She didn't want to give him any more chances to recognize her than he already would have.

The cat, meowing plaintively, jumped off the windowsill and weaved its way between the house elf's legs, clearly seeking the milk that was on the table for the tea. The startled house elf dropped the tea pot, which shattered on the marble floor, spilling its contents everywhere.

"Skippy!" snapped Lucius, his grey eyes furious. "Clean this mess up, immediately!"

Skippy squeaked in terror and frantically used his own shirt to try and clean the floor.

Hermione tried to hold herself back, but she couldn't. "Sir, it isn't really his fault," she said. "He didn't know that the cat was there." Her face flushed red with embarrassment and anger.

Lucius looked at her in surprise. Narcissa gave him a tiny smile as if to say, This is how the new money behaves. Make some allowances for her.

Rhys's fingers tightened on Hermione's leg to the point where she almost whimpered in pain.

"Please pardon my wife," he said through clenched teeth. "She is young and has foolish ideas at times." His glance at Hermione promised later retribution.

At that moment, the person Hermione last wished to see walked into the room. Since he provided a welcome distraction for Rhys, she decided that perhaps it was a good thing he arrived at precisely this moment.

"I apologize for my lateness," said Draco, looking splendid in robes identical to those he had worn the last time he was in Hermione's presence. He watched with raised eyebrows as the house elf finished cleaning up the tea mess. When Skippy ran from the room, still squeaking his apologies, he turned to Hermione and kissed her hand. "Pleasure to see you again," he said. "You as well," he said to Rhys, shaking the man's hand. Draco seated himself next to his father, across from Rhys.

"I've been hearing interesting things lately about your Insta-Message," Draco said, a hint of a smirk on his smooth face. "It seems our dinner partner of a few days ago has taken it upon himself to steal your idea."

Rhys took a sip of his newly-poured tea and smiled tensely. "Roald Cyrus has not heard the last of me. I have plans to show Cyrus his place," he said mysteriously.

"Cyrus is just a businessman," Lucius mused. "Blackmail is the best route with men like him; from what I head, he has a shady reputation regarding missing woman. With some proof, he'll be putty in your hands. Unless you were to go to the Magical Law Enforcement Squad and sue him?"

Hermione went pale as Lucius mentioned missing women.

"Magical Law Enforcement is too slow," Rhys said, shaking his head. "I want this ended now. I already have my plans."

"Care to share them?" asked Draco, leaning back in his chair calmly. He looked politely curious.

"They're a tad on the questionable side," replied Rhys, shaking his head. "But I would like to thank you for your order of the real, official Insta-Message from me."

The conversation dragged on and on about Rhys's business and the Malfoy business, making Hermione want to either sleep or die. She made it all the way through dinner without saying much, but she was aware of Draco Malfoy's eyes on her throughout the night. The peculiar thing was that his gaze was not that it was the kind that most men used on her; that is to say, his eyes were on her face. They remained well above her breasts, which was a relief.

Dinner was succulent duck with a wine sauce. The wine served with dinner was a heavy red wine that, after two glasses of it, made Hermione feel a little tipsy.

When she was finished eating, Hermione asked where the bathroom was.

"I will escort you," Draco said, rising from the table, his meal finished.

Hermione looked up to Rhys, who nodded his approval. "Thank you, Mr. Malfoy," she said quietly, taking his proffered arm and leaving the room.

"So," Draco said once they were in the hallway, his grey eyes dancing wickedly, "the muggleborn married rich."

Hermione glared at him, half in shock and half in dismay. She let go of his arm. "Money had nothing to do with it," she snapped.

Draco merely laughed. He pointed to a wooden door on their left, which had a Latin phrase inscribed on it in gold. The phrase was unfamiliar to Hermione. "The bathroom is just through there."

Hermione walked into the bathroom without another word, her heart pounding hard. The bathroom was tastefully decorated, and lit with a soft yellow light that illuminated her flushed face all too well. She pulled off her long gloves, washed her hands and patted her face with a soft hand towel. She took a few deep breaths. Okay, Hermione, calm down, she told herself. Just ignore anything he says so that Rhys won't get angry.

She left the bathroom and saw Draco leaning lazily against the wall. Looking her up and down, his eyes narrowed and he stalked forward, pushing her against the wall. Hermione gasped in shock, staring at his face, which seemed to be almost furious.

He grabbed her arm and held it up to her face. "This makes me very angry."

Hermione realized quickly that she had forgotten to put her gloves back on, leaving the burn on her arm exposed to view. It had the jagged "S" shape that was characteristic of a Stinging Hex, making it all too clear what had happened to her.

Hermione shoved him away from her. Breathing shakily, she pulled on her gloves and faced Draco Malfoy, whose mouth was in a hard line as he stared at her.

"I'm afraid I don't know what business it is of yours, Malfoy," she said sweetly, straightening her dress. "What would it matter to you if I accidentally burn myself?"

"We both know I'm not stupid enough to believe that," said Draco calmly, beginning to walk back the way they had come.

Hermione ran after him, slipping on the carpet and falling in her ridiculously high heels. A soft cry escaped her mouth as her ankle twisted beneath her.

Draco turned at the sound. Seeing her on the ground, he sighed heavily and walked back to her.

"If you burned yourself with a wand—and we both know that you didn't, because that injury can only come from a stinging hex—then why didn't you just heal it afterwards?" he asked innocently. He bent down and picked Hermione up in his arms, setting her on her feet.

Hermione's face paled with pain as she tried to put weight on her left ankle. Draco pointed his wand at her ankle and healed it instantly, doing the same with her arm.

"Well?" he asked impatiently when she said nothing. "Why did you not just heal your ankle?"

"Thank you for healing my ankle and arm," she said, walking back to the front door, where Rhys was saying his goodbyes and thank yous to Draco's parents.

Draco shook his head and followed her.

Hermione said goodbye to Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, realizing that she had actually enjoyed the older Malfoys' company. Narcissa had had intelligent things to say throughout dinner about current events, and she had repeatedly tried to get Hermione involved in the conversation, though Rhys had dismissed anything that Hermione had tried to say.

Draco watched as Rhys pulled Hermione with him through Side-Along Apparition, rather than having her Apparate on her own. This only heightened his suspicions that Hermione either didn't have a wand or that someone was keeping it from her. He did not like Rhys. There was something smarmy about him, and there was something wrong in his marriage.

Draco was not only a business owner, but also very good at reading people as well. That skill was essential in discovering who would be a good person to do business with. Rhys Morenci had set off many alarm bells, but Draco had purchased his product simply out of a curiosity to get to know him and his wife better. He had been quite surprised to see Hermione Granger (now Hermione Morenci) as the wife of Rhys, but had disguised it carefully.

In the two years since they had left Hogwarts, she had changed a lot. Gone was the bushy hair that Draco and his friends had made fun of so often, and the clothes he had seen her wear were nothing like she had ever worn at Hogwarts. He was surprised by the subdued air that she now seemed to have—it was so different from the fiery, Know-It-All personality that she had showed him constantly at Hogwarts.

Draco had changed a lot too. After the fall of Lord Voldemort, Lucius Malfoy had returned to his senses and had taught his son respect for all wizards, whether or not they were muggleborns or not. Draco paid close attention to this, as well as his father's lessons in business policy, because he knew that doing so would result in his father giving him the family business.

Along with his parents' lessons in self-control and etiquette, he began to realize for himself that the purity of one's blood meant next to nothing in the society that they currently lived in. After the Dark Lord's fall, blood status went out the window, since Voldemort had been defeated by a half-blood, a mudblood, and a blood-traitor. Since Draco wanted to make the most money, he quickly learned that being a bigot would not help him win people's hearts—and ultimately, money.

And now, it seemed like some other force had put Hermione Morenci right in front of Draco. Seeing the way her husband had treated her after she spilled the wine had greatly displeased him. His father had taught him to always respect woman, and to see Hermione treated that way—even though he had loathed her in school—filled him with disgust.

Hermione and Rhys appeared in front of their home with a loud crack. Still reeling from the fact that Draco Malfoy had somehow suspected that Rhys had hurt her, Hermione followed her husband into the house.

"Well, I think overall that went well," Rhys said quietly once they were in the bedroom. He changed out of his formal robes.

Hermione took off her dress and hung it up in the closet. She put on a tank top and silky pants to wear to bed, hoping that Rhys would have forgotten about her house elf outburst.

Rhys walked over to her, ignoring the flinch that she unconsciously made when he got close.

"Except for the fact that you seem determined to ruin my success with your idiocy," he continued, shoving her backwards so that she fell into the bed. "House elves?" he snarled. "You want to bankrupt me because of a HOUSE ELF?"

"Rhys, I was just—"

Rhys cut her off by covering her mouth roughly with his hand. "Shut the hell up. I put clothes on your back, a roof over your head, jewels on that pretty body of yours, and all I expect in return is a little respect and obedience!"

A hot rush of anger went through Hermione as Rhys began the same rant that he always did whenever she did something "wrong." She did nothing, though—realistically, what could she do? She had no wand with which to fight him off.

Rhys yelled until he was exhausted, then he released her. Hermione curled up miserably in bed, dreading what might come next.

"I'm only trying to make you into a better wife and person, my love," he whispered, pulling her close to him in bed. He kissed along the back of her neck and began rubbing her shoulders. "I'm sorry if it seems a bit harsh, but you know I love you. I love you, sweetheart. I love you."

Hermione fought back the tears that threatened to fall. Rhys always knew exactly how to confuse her so much, but through all the confusion, one sentence ran through her mind.

"I want this to end."