Disclaimer: See chapter one.
Author's note: I have reviews! And followers! Boy, how exciting. So exciting, in fact, that I decided to upload right away after the weekend, and here we are: chapter two. Special thanks to my beta Caroline, who helped me figure out all of the technicalities of mudblood disease and the pureblood registry. And thanks to Marnel and Rianne for their proofreading efforts!
Hermione was asleep when Draco Malfoy walked into her room at eleven o'clock on the morning of New Year's Day. She'd awoken early and spent an hour staring at the list of names in front of her. It was not very promising. There had only been about thirty families on the registry in the first place. The Weasleys weren't among them. Even centuries back, they'd had a strong dislike of anything elitist, and they had chosen not to be registered as purebloods. Hermione half-heartedly explored the possibility of adding their name now, but soon found out that the registry was closed - its only updates were the automatic additions of spouses and pureblood children. Her relief at not having to marry Ron was short-lived, because the people who were on the list probably wouldn't do her much good.
Only twenty-five of the families on the list still had living descendants, and very few were even close to Hermione's age. To make matters worse, many of the families had been pledged to the Death Eater side of the war. There was virtually no chance of convincing their children to marry her. She'd sent letters to several of the families that she might have a chance with, but had only received refusals in return. Finally, the exhaustion that was ever-present these days took hold of her and put her back to sleep.
At half past eleven, Hermione opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling above her. She considered doing more research, but there was nothing left to find out. With a sigh, she closed her eyes again when she heard a gentle cough next to her. She sat up quickly and found herself staring straight into the face of Draco Malfoy.
She didn't know whether it was the shock of seeing her high school nemesis or the fact that she'd sat up too quickly, but a wave of dizziness hit her that instant and caused her to collapse back to the bed. When the ringing in her ears had subsided, she looked at him again. He was sitting in the plastic hospital chair by her bed, his posture as straight and unforgiving as ever and a dispassionate look on his face. His hair was as blond as Hermione remembered, though he wore it slightly longer than when she had last seen him several years ago. The pointy features she'd despised so much at Hogwarts had become less pronounced as he'd matured to adulthood. She thought fleetingly that he might not be that bad to look at if it weren't for his perpetual sneer.
"What are you doing here?" she demanded.
"That's not the kind welcome I'd hoped for," he drawled. "I have a proposition to make, Granger."
"A proposition?" she echoed.
He looked slightly annoyed that she was repeating his words and nodded impatiently. "That's what I said, yes." He pulled out a copy of the previous day's Daily Prophet and waved it in front of her. "Mutterings in the magical community suggest you're looking for a husband. A pureblood one, no less."
"So?" she said slowly. She knew Malfoy was on the list, of course, but she'd never even given his name a second thought. Of all the candidates, he seemed least likely to even consider marrying her. It was strange and suspicious that he was visiting her, but he'd probably just come to gloat. They'd been enemies since as long as she could remember, after all.
"Nobody on this list is even remotely suitable as a candidate," Malfoy said. He opened the Prophet to the gossip page and started reading the names, interspersed with his own commentary. "The Notts: all currently married. The Evergreens: all either in Azkaban or dead. The Goyles: moved to France and unwilling to associate with anyone muggleborn. The Lowmans: no living descendants. The Crabbes: the only unmarried member of the family is sixty-two. The..."
"I know!" she snapped.
He frowned at her, but put the paper down. "Like I said, you don't stand a chance of getting any of them to marry you."
"And?" she bit out.
"And I'm proposing, Granger. Marry me," he said.
She blinked but said nothing. Any second now, he'd start laughing and tell her he was joking. He couldn't be serious.
"Well?" he asked after a long, awkward pause. Hermione realised he wasn't quite as emotionless as before. His face was tense, though it was well concealed behind the famous Malfoy sneer.
"Um, no," she said.
"You don't mean that," he responded at once. "You say that, but you don't mean it. I just pointed out why I'm your only hope, Granger."
"You don't want to marry me," she pointed out.
"Really? It's odd then, don't you think, that I'm proposing." He smirked at her.
"I don't want to marry you."
"You're dying, Granger. That spell is irreversible except through marriage into a pureblood family. I just explained to you that I'm the only candidate. Of course you want to marry me."
Logic normally comforted her and helped her think. Hearing the truth from Malfoy's mouth, however, did absolutely nothing to soothe her. "I want to marry for love," she mumbled.
"No, you don't," he argued. "I read the Prophet, and I talked to the nurses. You would've married Potter if it had helped. He's head over heels for the Weasley girl, and you're about as much in love with him as you are with me."
"I don't care," she spat. She sat up again and leaned over to him. "I'm not marrying you. I don't trust you. Why are you even here? What is this? Some kind of sick joke to get me to say yes and then leave me hanging? Did you come here to laugh at me? I don't know what you want, Malfoy, but I don't want to spend another minute of my last weeks with you for company, so you'd better go."
He sighed. "Granger, lie down before you faint. This isn't a joke. I promise." He sounded sincere, which was so unusual that she lay back down and said nothing. "Look, I haven't explained myself properly," Malfoy said, "but my proposal is genuine."
"You can't expect me to believe you'd come here out of the goodness of your heart-" she began.
"Of course not. I'm a Slytherin," he said, actually sounding proud of it. "Now let me finish."
"Fine."
He gestured toward the stack of newspapers on her bedside table. "Have you been reading the Prophet?" he asked.
She shook her head. "I've been otherwise occupied."
He glanced at the stacks of books that lined the room and nodded. "I can see that." He went through the stack, grabbed one of the newspapers, and opened it to the fourth page. When he held it out to her, the headline at the top caught her eye. Court date set for Malfoy hearing, it read. "You may not be aware that the ministry is attempting to seize all Malfoy property, including Malfoy Manor. I want to keep it. In order to do so, I need the public to stop seeing me as some kind of junior Death Eater."
"You were a junior Death Eater," she couldn't help but interrupt. He looked annoyed.
"'Were' being the operative word. It's also worth noting that no charges have ever been pressed against me. Regardless of what you think of me, the ministry's claim is invalid. Despite that, it's going to succeed because the Wizengamot hates me. I want to sway their opinion of me. Getting married to a war hero would be just the thing. It's even more likely to be successful because I'd be saving your life." He smirked at her, evidently quite satisfied with his plans.
"So what you're saying is that you want to marry for money," Hermione said. She felt repulsed, talking about marriage as if it were some kind of monetary transaction. At the same time, Malfoy's apparent sincerity filled her with hope. Transaction or not, marrying the blond man beside her could save her life.
Draco scowled at her. "No, Granger. If you want, you can give half of the Malfoy fortune to muggle orphans. I'm marrying to keep the Manor."
"Why would you do that?"
"Are my motives really your concern?"
"Yes," she said without hesitation. "I need to know why you're doing this. I don't trust you."
He answered in a clipped voice. "My father is in Azkaban. I almost never see him. My mother passed away last year. My junior Death Eater status prevents me from getting any kind of job. I have no relatives who aren't imprisoned or dead, and all my former friends have either moved or want nothing to do with me. Malfoy Manor is all I have left. Besides, I grew up there. I don't want to see it transferred to some idiot who's going to renovate or redecorate and ruin it in the process. Does that answer your question?"
Hermione stared at him. He'd never tell her such personal things unless he was serious, would he? His refusal to meet her eyes and the heightened colour in his cheeks convinced her that he was embarrassed to tell her this. Surely that couldn't be faked. On the other hand, Slytherins were known to be excellent liars. She was unsure whether to believe in this apparent sincerity or become extra wary instead. Either way, she couldn't help but start to think in earnest about the possibility of marrying him. He had been right earlier on when he'd said he was her only option. She desperately wished it wasn't so - no matter how sincere or honest Malfoy was, she still disliked him intensely. Spending the rest of her life with him was not a tempting prospect, but it was better than not living at all.
After a long silence, Malfoy spoke again. "Look, it's really very simple. This is just a mutually beneficial arrangement. I save your life. In return, you do whatever you can to help me save my properties. I have every confidence that your political power will result in a favourable outcome, especially since by that point, you'll be fighting for property that is yours as well as mine. Once the trial is over, you won't have to see me, and I won't have to see you. You can live your life however you like."
"I don't want to marry you," Hermione muttered stubbornly.
"It doesn't matter what you want, Granger. I've already been over this," Malfoy said exasperatedly. "You know as well as I do that no other pureblood will want to marry a muggleborn."
She knew he was right, and it annoyed her beyond reason. She glared at him. "Did you have to practice to say 'muggleborn' instead of the other word?" she spat. Why had the fates conspired to have her marry the boy who had once called her 'mudblood'?
Draco was abruptly every bit as irritated as she was. "Yes, I did, Granger," he bit out. "Would you like me to apologise for making an effort? I'd like to point out again that I'm your only hope. I think it's safe to say that you want to live more than I want to have my house. I don't have to do this and I certainly don't have to offer you any favours. If I wanted to call you names while I saved your life, I would. I'm trying to be civil, but you're making it difficult."
It was quiet for several minutes. Hermione wished she could send Malfoy away and just sleep, sleep, sleep until all her pain and doubt and misery disappeared. But it wasn't an option, and she knew it. This was the only proposal she was going to get.
The silence was abruptly broken when Harry walked into the room. "Malfoy," he bit out. "What are you doing here?"
"Potter." Malfoy's voice was thick with sarcasm as he continued, "Such a pleasure seeing you again."
"What are you doing here?" Harry repeated.
"I'm proposing to Granger," Malfoy drawled, evidently satisfied when Harry stepped back in shock.
"Shut up, Malfoy," Hermione bit out. She gestured at a chair, and Harry slowly walked to it and sank down. Hermione explained Malfoy's proposal as concisely as she could. To her relief, the blond man didn't interrupt.
When Hermione had finished her story, Harry was silent for a long moment. Then he turned to Malfoy. She could see the cold anger in Harry's eyes. "You cursed her, didn't you?" he spat. "Your court case has been going on for months, even if it wasn't in the papers until now. You knew you were going to need a publicity stunt. You cursed Hermione so you could blackmail her into this."
It was an option Hermione hadn't even considered. She blamed her perpetual exhaustion, but felt idiotic even so.
Malfoy, it appeared, had also not thought of this idea. "What?" he bit out. He took a deep breath and continued, slightly calmer, "As a matter of fact, I did not."
"Prove it," Harry retorted.
"I thought I'd heard something about you becoming a lawyer, Potter," Malfoy drawled, "but apparently you're not even aware that innocence does not need to be proven."
Harry gritted his teeth. "Do I look like the Wizengamot?" he snapped. "I said prove it."
Malfoy looked exasperated. "How?" he demanded. "An alibi? Do you even know when the spell was cast?"
"Impossible to pin down," Hermione said. "Besides, you could have an accomplice."
He looked at Harry, eyebrows raised. Nobody spoke for a moment.
"Veritaserum," she said suddenly.
"Excellent," Harry responded, jumping up. "Don't let him leave the room so he can't take an antidote."
Malfoy rolled his eyes as if he thought the entire process to be superfluous, although Hermione couldn't help but notice that he was also starting to look uneasy.
Harry turned on the spot and disapparated, leaving Hermione with the man who may or may not have cast the spell that was killing her. It was distinctly uncomfortable. Neither of them said a word until Harry returned fifteen minutes later, holding a small box.
"Where did you get it from?" Malfoy asked, looking at the box a little suspiciously.
"I have friends in high places," Harry responded briskly.
He put the box on Hermione's bedside table and took out a small vial of clear liquid. Malfoy looked at it for a moment, tapping his fingers on the arm of his chair. "Relevant questions only," he suddenly said. "This is about whether or not I cursed her. If you ask me anything else, you'll regret it."
Harry glared at him but nodded. "Open up, Malfoy," he said grimly.
Three drops of veritaserum later, Malfoy's eyes glazed over. His face slackened ever so slightly, which looked strange and unnatural. Hermione shivered.
"Did you curse Hermione Granger with mudblood disease?" Harry asked. He sounded professional, and she couldn't help but smile. He'd make a good lawyer one day.
"No," Malfoy said. His voice was flat and emotionless. Hermione would have thought he'd sound better without his customary drawl and sarcasm, but instead the situation was creepy.
"Did you tell someone else to curse her?"
"No," Malfoy said again.
"Did you, in any way, cause someone to curse her?"
"No," he repeated. Hermione wasn't sure whether to be relieved or not. Malfoy's innocence – in this matter at least – meant she could marry him and save her life, but that choice had all sorts of ramifications. Besides, this meant the true perpetrator was still at large.
"Do you know who cast the curse?" Harry continued.
"No."
"Who do you think cast it?"
"It must be one of the Dark Lord's followers," Malfoy said, his voice still devoid of emotion. Harry looked disgusted at his use of Voldemort's old title. "I don't know who it was, but many Death Eaters and Death Eater sympathisers have reason to dislike…"
"Stop," Harry said, and Malfoy fell silent. Harry and Hermione looked at each other. "We could ask him about his motives regarding you," he said quietly.
Hermione glanced at Malfoy, who stared at the wall with his dead gaze. She wanted desperately to know more about him, but she knew it wouldn't be fair. He was innocent; he was here to save her life, questionable motives notwithstanding.
"He said relevant questions only," she said.
Harry nodded and took a vial of antidote out of the box. He handed it to Malfoy and instructed, "Drink this."
Malfoy complied without a word. As soon as the potion hit his tongue, however, life returned to his eyes. "Ugh," he grumbled, glaring at the vial and then at Harry. "Who brewed the antidote? This is deplorable quality."
"Too bad," Harry responded, his voice not entirely free of satisfaction at Malfoy's disgusted expression.
Malfoy put the vial down and looked at Hermione. "Now that we've established that I am not the orchestrator of your current situation, perhaps we could return to the matter of my proposal."
She took a deep breath and whispered, "I'll think about it."
He nodded and got up. "I need not restate that the nature of our conversation must remain secret. Owl me when you've decided. If you accept, I'll come back to discuss the details," he said. "Don't take too long. It would be rather unfortunate if you were to die before our wedding day."
"For you, you mean?" Hermione couldn't help but ask.
"For both of us," he said, and then he was gone.
Hermione sighed deeply and promptly had a coughing fit. Harry patted her back until she'd recovered.
"Well," he said, "that was an eventful hour. Do you think you'll do it?"
"I don't really have a choice, do I?" she asked. "I can write to the other families on the list, but I'm afraid it's pointless. Besides, I don't know if any of them are a better choice. Malfoy said that if I went through with it, we wouldn't have to see each other. I could just continue my life. I'd hate to be associated with him in any way, let alone through marriage, but it might not have too many consequences. He seemed willing to negotiate, and I think it's because he needs this, too. With the other people on the list, I'd be asking for favours. They won't be willing to consider my wishes at all. I could be selling into a life of slavery for all I know."
Harry nodded. "So what's next?"
"I need to think it over some more," she said. "It really isn't much of a choice, but I want to be sure I know what I'm getting myself into. After that, I suppose I'll have to talk to Malfoy to decide on the details. Can you do me a favour?"
"Of course, Hermione, anything you need," Harry said.
"Two favours. First, I'll probably need help negotiating. Can you be here when I talk to Malfoy again?"
Harry pulled a face. "I had hoped I'd never see that smarmy git again, but it's already too late, anyway. I'll be here. What's the other favour?"
"I don't want to tell Ron. He'll explode. He's sure to see reason eventually, but I don't want to listen to his ranting. I don't need to be told how awful Malfoy is, especially not at 90 decibels."
"I'll tell Ron," Harry said. "I should probably go see him right now, actually. He was planning to visit tonight, and he'll need to know what's going on before he shows up here."
They said their goodbyes, and then he left Hermione to her thoughts. She was exhausted but unable to sleep. Twice she was interrupted by a nurse who came to perform a painkilling or dialysis spell. Other than that, she could think undisturbed.
Ultimately she decided there was no use in waiting. She grabbed parchment and a quill from beside her bed and started writing.
Malfoy,
I accept. Please see me tomorrow morning at ten o'clock to discuss the details. Harry will be there as well.
Sincerely,
Hermione Granger
She wrote a letter to Harry to tell him about her appointment with Malfoy and found envelopes for both letters. When a nurse came to bring her food, Hermione asked her to send them at once. She wished she could've used her own owl.
Harry had given her the owl on the day after her break-up with Ron. She'd been watching bad television in an attempt to distract herself - a habit from her muggle past - when there was a knock on the door. It was Harry, carrying a huge, brightly-wrapped present.
"Ron told me you'd gone insane," he told her when they were sitting on her couch. "Actually, I think his exact words were 'bloody mental'."
"I broke up with him," she said.
"I gathered that. Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," she said, and promptly started to cry.
Harry awkwardly patted her on the back until she'd pulled herself together. "I thought you might need a new friend," he said. "One who appreciates parchment as much as you do." He pushed the present toward her. She opened it and found cage with a beautiful brown tawny owl. It looked at Hermione with curious, wide eyes. She fell in love with the animal at once. Back in the Hogwarts days, she'd desperately wanted her own owl, but her parents had always been firmly against it. Her mother wasn't fond of birds in the slightest, and her father was worried about keeping an owl hidden in a muggle neighbourhood. Now, her own companion and letter carrier was sitting right in front of her. The owl let out a quiet squawk, as if to say hello.
"Oh, I love him," she said, new tears in her eyes. "You shouldn't have, Harry, really!"
"His name is Apple," Harry told her. She couldn't help but laugh at the name, and Harry chuckled as well. "He was named by a little girl, but she couldn't keep him, according to the people at the Magical Menagerie. So now he's yours. I hope he'll cheer you up a bit."
"I'm sure he will," she said.
Harry gave her some owl treats, which she fed to her new friend. Crookshanks came prowling in from the bedroom to meet the new pet. Apple received him with a loud screech. While the two animals got acquainted, Harry gestured at the television, which was on mute. "Is this that terrible cooking show my aunt used to watch? Surely that's not your cup of tea."
"It's a guilty pleasure," Hermione mumbled, blushing.
"Well, turn up the sound," Harry said. "If you like it, it can't be as bad as I remember."
She'd watched television with Harry for hours after that. It had been strangely relaxing, and the memory brought a smile to her face even now, more than a year later.
She missed Apple. Harry and Ginny were taking care of him and Crookshanks while she was in the hospital, but she wished she could've kept her animals with her. Maybe she wouldn't have felt so alone if they had been with her while she was making decisions that would change her life.
When Ron showed up that evening, he seemed subdued and resigned. It was better than the outrage she'd expected. He told her about his day at work, but his usual enthusiasm about the Auror programme was lacking. "Are you going to do it?" he asked after a while.
"Do what?" she asked, although she knew exactly what he was talking about.
"Marry the ferret." Ron's face was full of revulsion.
"Yes. I owled him this afternoon to say I'd accept," she said evenly.
"Right." He scowled, and she half expected him to start yelling at her about how stupid Malfoy was. She was surprised when what he said was, "I'm really sorry, Hermione. I wish there was something I could do."
She smiled at him. "Thanks, Ron. It's not your fault, you know that."
"It's not fair," he mumbled. "He's just using you for his own good. You shouldn't have to spend the rest of your life married to that ferret. You should be with me."
She had to put a lot of effort into ignoring his last comment. "Maybe it won't be so bad," she said, trying to convince herself as well as Ron. "He dislikes me as much as I dislike him. We can just stay out of each other's way."
"As soon as he starts treating you badly, I'll come and hex him into oblivion," Ron promised.
She smiled. It was good to hear he cared about her, even if it wasn't in the right way. "Hey, I'm a war heroine. I can defend myself perfectly well."
When Malfoy returned the next morning, he and Harry were clearly not happy to be in the same room again. They glared at each other from opposite sides of Hermione's bed. She was a little worried that the men wouldn't be able to stay civil. Despite the mountain of pillows behind her back, she felt weak and barely able to stay upright. If Harry hadn't been there with her, she wouldn't have felt capable of negotiating.
"Why does he have to be here again?" Malfoy demanded. He seemed decidedly less polite than he had the day before. Perhaps he couldn't be bothered to keep up the charade now that she had accepted his proposal.
"Because I want him to be here," she said, before Harry could say something hot-headed. "Besides, you know he's studying to become a lawyer."
Malfoy shrugged. "I understand, but I'll have to warn you that there won't be any official agreements here. We're not writing anything down. I've put silencing charms on the room as I did yesterday. I don't want word to get out about these negotiations. This marriage is supposed to look like I'm selflessly saving you, Granger."
This statement did nothing to make Harry friendlier, but to Hermione's relief he didn't say anything.
"So how is this going to work?" she asked after a moment.
"It's simple. I give you a pureblood marriage; you help me win my lawsuit. As I told you yesterday, the ministry's claim isn't legally valid. Potter can verify it if you so desire. I'll give you access to every relevant document as well as the Malfoy library, which has an extensive section on magical law. You stand up in court to defend me. You talk to the press about how I saved you and how much I've changed. Give an exclusive to the Daily Prophet, give interviews, release statements, everything. I need the Wizengamot to believe the public will turn on them if they go through with this. Once I've won the case, there'll be little need for us to interact. You'll have your own quarters, of course. Certainly the Manor is large enough for us to live separate lives." Throughout this little speech, Malfoy's tone was very matter-of-fact. Hermione still felt uncomfortable at the way he treated marriage as some sort of bargaining chip. She was distracted from this by his last few sentences, however.
"The Manor?" she echoed.
"Yes, the Manor," he said irritably. "Malfoy Manor. You do actually remember that we talked about this yesterday?"
Her eyes narrowed at his condescension. "Of course," she bit out. "I mean, what makes you think I'll come live at your precious manor? I don't need you to give me my own quarters. I have a flat in London."
He seemed genuinely surprised now, although the irritation hadn't left his expression either. "No," he said curtly. "You move into the Manor, or the deal is off."
"What?" she gasped. "That's completely unfair! Besides, why would you even want me in your Manor?"
An exasperated sigh told her she'd apparently asked another question he deemed obvious. "How are we going to convince the wizarding world that you're on my side if you're as far away from me as you can get, Granger?" he demanded. "Surely you understand that this is essential. People are sure to question the validity of our marriage if you live eighty miles away. In addition, it's tradition for those of the Malfoy family to live at the Manor."
"Like it's tradition to marry muggleborns?" Harry snapped, evidently fed up with Malfoy.
Hermione snickered despite the circumstances, but Malfoy was not amused. He sent Harry a scathing look and continued, "Besides, Granger, I have other conditions for which your presence at the Manor is necessary."
"Other conditions?" she asked. There was a tremor in her voice, and she felt light-headed, more so than was usual these days. The past twenty-four hours, she'd been imagining herself back at home, unfortunately tied to Malfoy in name, but otherwise free. Now, it seemed a return to health would have far more consequences than she'd thought. Living at Malfoy Manor... Although she'd been to the Manor before, it hadn't exactly been under pleasant circumstances. When Harry, Ron, and Hermione had been captured by the Snatchers, she hadn't even fully known where she was. The events that took place in the Manor itself had left her with absolutely no desire to go back there. Besides, she shuddered to think of the other things Malfoy could demand of her. After he'd left yesterday, she'd felt as if she were making a choice, saying yes or no to his proposal. But she knew deep down that he could ask anything of her, anything at all, and she'd do it to stay alive. It was a chilling prospect.
"Yes, what other conditions?" Harry backed her up. He was still not cordial by far, but he seemed to have slipped into lawyer mode again. Hermione had to admire his control. He really was cut out for the job.
Malfoy met her eyes. "You understand that you won't ever be able to leave me, since a divorce will have ramifications for your legal status. In the same way, I can't divorce you and marry someone else. This is the only marriage either of us will ever enter into. As such, I want you to give me heirs."
"What?" she sputtered. It brought on a coughing fit, and she couldn't continue speaking until a minute later. "Look, Malfoy, if you're asking me to consummate this marriage, I'll-"
He cut her off with an air of extreme annoyance. "Don't be obtuse, Granger. You're a healer. I'm not asking you to have sex with me; I'm asking you to bear my children."
"Oh," she said. Of course there were multiple ways to conceive without intercourse. Even so, this demand had unsettled her yet again. She'd always known, in the back of her mind, that she'd want children someday. But not now, not while she was still studying, not when the father was a ruthless, cold-hearted bastard.
Malfoy seemed to guess at some of her thoughts. "Not until well after you've completed your studies, of course," he added.
It eased some of her worries, but it was also an uncomfortable reminder that her marriage to Malfoy would outlast her healer studies, could even outlast her life. She took a deep breath and tried to think it through rationally. Under the circumstances, she supposed Malfoy had reason to bring up the issue. After all, he was making a life-long commitment, too. She turned to Harry. "That sounds reasonable," she said slowly, uncertainly. "Is it reasonable?"
Harry did not look happy, but he nodded. "I think so, although I'm surprised he'd want halfblood heirs."
"Potter, if I cared about blood status even half as much as my father, I'd never consider marrying a muggleborn in the first place," Malfoy pointed out.
Harry scowled but changed the subject. "What about other relationships?"
Malfoy looked at Hermione. "I don't much care who you go out with, Granger, but I expect you to discuss it with me first."
"Why?" Hermione and Harry chorused.
"Public image, of course." Malfoy sighed at their incredulous looks. "This isn't anything unusual in the pureblood world. Half the marriages are arranged at least to some extent. Infidelity is generally considered acceptable as long as word doesn't get out to the rest of the world and both parties are aware of what's going on."
It made sense, in a weird, twisted way. Still, Hermione could barely believe she was negotiating her marriage like this. Malfoy didn't seem perturbed at all. Then again, from what he'd just said, he'd probably grown up knowing all about arranged marriages.
Malfoy assured Hermione that she could continue healer training. She'd have her own wing of the Manor and, according to Malfoy, would barely have to see him at all. Fifteen house-elves would be placed under her command - at this declaration, Hermione scowled so fiercely that Malfoy actually looked taken aback - and she'd be able to manage her side of the house however she chose. It was troubling and overwhelming to envision the future she'd have after she became a Malfoy, but Hermione tried to ignore her feelings of anger and grief because they were useless. All her sadness at the imagined future wouldn't change a thing, because it became more and more clear that she didn't have a choice. It was Malfoy or nothing, and nothing meant death. Malfoy knew it, of course; he probably enjoyed her plight. It made her furious, but what could she do?
She made an effort to rein herself in and remain rational. "One more thing," she said, looking intently at Malfoy. "I know I won't be able to divorce you without altering my blood status, but you wouldn't have those consequences. How do I know you won't divorce me as soon as you have your house back?" She heard Harry draw in a sharp breath beside her; he clearly hadn't thought of this possibility yet.
"Because I promise not to," Malfoy said, as if that was any kind of guarantee. When he saw the looks on their faces, he continued, "I'd imagine you don't believe me, though, so how about this: If I divorce you, knowing it will kill you, I can be tried for murder. If you can sway the public opinion in favour of me, he can do the opposite." He gestured at Harry. "So I don't think there's any doubt how that court case would end. I'm in this for life, just as you are." When she nodded reluctantly, Malfoy continued, "Good. I think that's everything. What's the wedding date?"
Hermione looked at Harry, who said, "Better make it soon, for your sake."
"Tomorrow morning," she decided. There was no use in waiting, and she desperately wanted her health to improve.
"Eager, are we, Granger?" Malfoy smirked.
She scowled at him. "I should be feeling better the moment I'm wed, and frankly, I can't wait."
He looked at her pale face for a moment and nodded. "I assume you're not well enough for any grand ceremonies. I'll make sure there's a ministry official to marry us. You'll need a witness. Come to think of it, so do I. Potter, will you do the honours?"
"You want me to be your witness?" Potter said incredulously.
"It's good publicity," Malfoy responded.
He doesn't have anyone else, Hermione thought, but for some reason, she didn't say it.
Hermione slept through most of the day after the negotiations. When she woke, she was still tired, she was still sore, and she was still sad and angry and confused. She was relieved to find that she was not alone; Ginny was sitting next to her with a book in her lap.
"Hey, Ginny," she said. Her voice was hoarse. She cleared her throat and immediately had a coughing fit.
"Hey," Ginny responded. She grabbed Hermione's hand. "Harry told me about Malfoy."
Hermione nodded. For a moment, neither of them said anything, but Hermione was glad for the silent solidarity that Ginny offered. "I have to live at his house," she whispered after a while. "Ginny, I have to have children with him. I don't know if I can do this."
Ginny squeezed her hand sympathetically and thought for a moment before responding. "I don't know either," she said slowly, "but I do know you're one of the strongest, bravest people I know. If anyone can do it, it's you."
Once again, Hermione thanked her lucky stars that she knew Ginny. Although they were nearly two years apart in age, she'd always felt a strong connection to the youngest Weasley, which had developed into a strong friendship over the years. Even her break-up with Ron hadn't stopped Ginny from supporting her.
"Thanks," she mumbled. "I know I should be glad about all this - I would've died if it weren't for Malfoy. It's just... he can ask anything of me. I feel so helpless."
"It won't always be like that, though," Ginny said. "Once you're married, he can't back out anymore, and you're in a more equal bargaining position. If you get sick of him in a year or so, I doubt he can stop you from moving out again."
Hermione hadn't thought of that yet, and it cheered her up quite a bit. Ginny smiled when she saw it, and held up the book she was holding. "I brought you something from the library," she said. Hermione leaned over to read the title: Wizarding History of Wiltshire and Somerset. "It contains ten pages of history on your future home."
"Oh, that's great," Hermione said enthusiastically, taking the book from Ginny's outstretched hand. "Thanks so much."
"You're welcome," Ginny said. "Is there anything else I can do?"
"Actually, there is," she responded. "Are you free tomorrow morning?"
Ginny chuckled. "I have practise, but I'm sure I can get a day off for my best friend's wedding."
"In that case, would you be my maid of honour?"
"Absolutely," Ginny enthused. "That's such an honour, Hermione. Thanks ever so much."
"Don't mention it," Hermione said, smiling at Ginny's excitement. "I considered asking Ron to come as well, but he'd probably kill the groom."
Ginny laughed. "My brother the hot-head. I talked to him yesterday. You know he wants the best for you, right?"
"I know," Hermione said a little sourly. "It's just that he's still convinced he is the best for me."
That made Ginny shrug. "Well, Ron will be Ron."
Whenever Hermione had dreamed of her wedding, she'd imagined a beautiful white dress, warm summer weather, cheers from friends and family, and most importantly, a groom she was madly in love with. Compared to those fantasies, this wedding seemed even bleaker than it already was. None of her family were there - not even her parents, whom she missed more at this moment than she ever had before. She was wearing pyjamas, and it was raining. Most of all, she was very much not in love with her husband-to-be.
She was glad she'd decided to ask Ginny as her maid of honour. Ginny provided excellent moral support on her wedding day, and Hermione was glad her best friend knew of the true motives for Malfoy's proposal.
The ministry had dispatched a short brunet man in his mid-thirties to marry them. With him and Harry as the final two participants in the ceremony, there were only five people in her hospital room when she and Malfoy said their vows.
The only good thing about the ceremony was her health. Mere seconds after the ministry employee had cast the marriage spell and waved his wand over their clasped hands, the pain vanished. She could practically feel her kidneys getting back to work. The dizzying fog in her brain lifted; the aches in her muscles disappeared. The contrast was so great that she gasped. Until this moment, she hadn't realised how far she'd been removed from her normal health.
"Are you all right?" Ginny asked immediately.
"Yes, fine," she responded, still a little breathless. "I'm fine. I feel great. It worked!"
Healer Canton was not immediately convinced; he subjected Hermione to a long list of spells. Some were diagnostic, resulting in the official declaration that she'd been healed from mudblood disease. Other spells targeted her weakened muscles. Within an hour or two, Hermione felt even better than she had after she'd said her vows.
After that, of course, it took another two hours to complete all the bureaucratic nonsense: signing the marriage contract and getting officially discharged from St Mungo's. She had to promise Healer Canton to wait at least six weeks before resuming her studies. "You're not ill anymore, and I've repaired some of the damage to your body," he said, gazing down at her as she sat, now fully dressed, on her hospital bed, "but you've lost a lot of weight and you've barely moved in weeks. Make sure you regain strength, then come back to finish your training." He turned to Malfoy, who was impatiently waiting for all of the fuss to be over. "I don't know what your motives are, young man," he said, "but you've saved the best student I've had in years. Now that you're her husband, I expect you to make sure she doesn't overexert herself."
Malfoy shook the hand that Canton offered him. "Don't worry. I'll take care of her," he said. Hermione didn't believe Malfoy gave two Knuts about whether or not she overexerted herself, but she kept herself in check and smiled at her husband. Chances were that Healer Canton would at some point be interviewed by Daily Prophet reporters. It would be best if he had reason to tell the press that she and Malfoy were perfectly amicable to each other.
"We're going to the Manor," Malfoy said to her. Hermione took a deep breath. She'd spent an hour the previous day reading up on the history of the Manor and its inhabitants, but it was still a daunting prospect to actually go there. She glanced back at Harry and Ginny, who were still sitting on their plastic chairs.
"Will you be all right?" Ginny asked her.
"I'll be fine," she said. "I'll owl you soon. We'll visit." The worried looks on her friends' faces made her feel even more unsure of herself. She wished she could go home to her little flat in North London. But Malfoy had kept his end of the promise, and now it was time for her to return the favour. She turned to Malfoy. "I'm ready."
Malfoy pulled out his wand and cast a water-repellent charm on her. Before she could ask what it was for, he'd grabbed her hand. She saw him twist on the spot. The next moment, the familiar walls of St Mungo's vanished as they disapparated.
Author's note: Let me know what you think! Questions, suggestions or comments are always welcome. Should you find yourself at a loss as to what to write about, then please tell me your favourite and/or least favourite lines from this chapter!
xx
Rianne