I could convince myself for most of the day that I had done the right thing. It was only in the small hours that I doubted. I imagined Malfoy lying anaesthetised, soulless as though kissed by a Dementor, and I couldn't convince myself I didn't care. He didn't deserve that. In the little dark endless minutes before breakfast I imagined Neville looking at me with contempt as I condemned someone to the same half-life as his parents endured; in but out. Present but unaware.

That wasn't fair on me. Frank and Alice had been tortured. During the day I was sure my friends wouldn't deride me for my choice. Ron would support me. The Weasleys would too. But they'd do that because they loathed the Malfoys not because what I had done was right.

I turned my decision over and over in my head, eroding it to the essentials. Was my freedom, such as it was locked in a room without windows, worth the endless coma of another sentient person?

Sometimes I said yes. Sometimes I said no. Sometimes I paced back and forth from wall to wall arguing with myself like a lawyer trying a case. Was I negligent? Was I culpable? Was the debt Malfoy owed me sufficient that I could leave him to sleep away his life?

I had to strip down the issue to who paid. I was in Azkaban for an unspecified period of time. Honour debts and crimes of conscience did not carry fixed sentences. Basically, it was the wizarding equivalent of 'Her Majesty's pleasure'. I could spend the rest of my life in here or I could leave tomorrow, depending on who kissed what.

Harry visited a lot. He and the DA and the Order and all sorts of people who gave a damn about me or hated the Malfoys or just couldn't stomach the Ministry pulling this nonsense had been campaigning for my release. Narcissa was lobbying the other side, with consummate Slytherin word-twisting.

Hannah and I had a long conversation yesterday. Luna too. Useful different perspectives. Percy sent reams of letters and references and books. I hadn't been sitting idle. But I had been alone with my own thoughts. They were unquiet company.

Sooner of later, the tide of public opinion would drift to the conservative. That was human nature, magical or not. I didn't have a great overreaching social cause. This was between me and Narcissa, and eventually I would be the selfish Mudblood who simply refused to live by wizarding rules. The weight of the status quo would slowly crush my options.

Hannah had been surprisingly frank. She'd spoken to Susan on my behalf and both Badgers had thought much the same thing; I could make this a long, long campaign where I trudged until Narcissa eventually caved by grief or the Reaper. Or I could shoulder a larger burden now and help others. Sacrifice myself in increments or all at once.

Not a pleasant prospect either way. Luna had been more esoteric and frankly convoluted mind-games were not my first choice of strategy. I could follow her mental gymnastics but it left me with the urge to hit someone. Logic and facts were my arms and armour. But she had got me thinking.

I had plenty of time for thinking. Particularly in the early morning when I could smell the sea mist despite the tons of rock between me and the ocean. I didn't want to waste my life in Azkaban. I'd stay if it meant not pandering to the Malfoys but I could do so much more.

I talked to my banker. If I was going to sell myself I wanted to get the best price and the soundest investment strategy. The goblins had some very, very old grudges. I couldn't settle them all but if I agreed to help them, got their input into the devil's bargain then tying myself to Malfoy for life might not be so bad.

It took a while to get everything in place. Percy was invaluable and Kingsley cut through red tape like he was wielding the Sword of Gryffindor. The Wizengamot wanted to make an example of me. To put me in my place to show the general public that the rule of law was back.

So, I'd let them.

For a price.

I went to my custodial review hearing in a sleeveless red dress. I made damn sure I was photographed in it with my scars showing. The Prophet probably wouldn't print that image but the Quibbler would. When this was over, I promised Luna all the interviews she wanted. Even daft ones about Nargles.

Narcissa was there looking immaculate. No frayed edges there but only one advocate present with her. Word had got around about her living on her dowry vault. Gringotts was picking over the Malfoy assets with tweezers. They'd get every last bauble. I was fine with that.

I got a new Statute. The Rights of the Sentient legislation overruled centuries of amendments to the charters between 'beings' and 'creatures'. House elves, goblins, centaurs, werewolves and so many other marginalised species now had the legal rights they always should have been granted. They weren't full citizens on par with wizards and witches. There was only so much I could do at once. But I could do more later.

Unfortunately, the legislation was not retroactive. I let the Wizengamot crow about that, laughing smugly at me behind their hands. I was still stuck with Malfoy. And I had to agree to immediately cohabit with him. Immediate as in the instant the Healers brought him out of the coma and he was fit to go home.

Which would not be the Manor. Narcissa protested about that but I pointed out that I was the materfamilias until my eldest child came of age. The same laws that bound me to Malfoy also bound him to me. I had custody of him as a Veela. So although she was the wife of the elder Malfoy, Lucius had forfeited his rights when he was imprisoned for life. I was the head bitch in charge.

I was a little more tactful than to actually say that out loud but I was thinking it. And I kept thinking it all the way to my parents' house after my release from jail. I'd bought the house before I went to Azkaban, using Malfoy money. My mum and dad were doubtless pleased with the generous price and I had a place to live that wasn't Malfoy Manor. Not that I planned to stay long. I'd rent out this house and lease something closer to London.

I spent my first day out of jail unpacking. I spent my first night out on the town with my friends. We had a huge party at one of the new style dance clubs in Diagon Alley. Not really to my taste but Ginny chose it because it was a large enough space everyone could fit at once while also allowing people to arrive and go as they wished.

I got absolutely pissed. Magical cocktails are even more potent than Muggle ones, and they drink very easy. I had two fruity drinks, a lemony one and something on fire then after that I was numb from the brain down. I think Hannah Apparated me home. Whoever it was kindly left me a hang-over potion and a large bottle of orange juice. Nectar of the gods.

A little delicate but largely recovered from my binge, I was eating a fry up brunch when Malfoy darkened my door. Molly had sent over a hamper of supplies and once I'd got my bearings I'd go grocery shopping. I let him in, weathering his glare all the way back to the kitchen wherein I resumed my seat and my meal.

"Mother informs me you have agreed to the marriage contract." His voice was hoarse and brittle. I nodded, chewing. "Just like that?"

"I was in Azkaban for three months. There was no 'just'." Or justice. But at least no one else would ever be railroaded like I had been. Was it enough? Probably not. It was a start. I could fight my way through the rest as and when necessary. I was a lion. I could fight. I've been fighting for years. Though it would've been nice to lie in the sun for a while.

"You must truly hate me." Malfoy stood there in a suit that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe. He looked good. Who was I kidding? He looked delicious. I wanted to do things with him that were illegal in several countries. But he was standing paralysed in the middle of the kitchen as though struck by an epiphany.

"Not really." I'd had a lot of time to think about that too. "You said you hated me. I can believe that. For my part, it's more a sad sort of disbelief. I don't know how someone so clever could have believed in an ideology so wrong. The childhood bully stuff doesn't help."

"You would rather be imprisoned than be my mate." He pointed this out as though I needed reminding. I didn't. I'd also thought about that a lot. Pacing and sweating and despising myself.

"I didn't get put into Gryffindor because I was reckless or brash." I dipped a corner of toast in the runny egg yolk. "I have determination enough for a whole pride. You and your mother tried to make me bend. I don't." I looked at him. "Not to that sort of sneering privilege."

"Few brides want legislation as their dower." He was still a menhir, holding himself remote. I couldn't read him.

"Few brides are wooed with biochemical compulsions." I finished my egg and toyed with my bacon while he stared at me. I felt hot. Overdressed. And stubbornly unwilling to approach him. I wasn't going to order him to heel either.

"I am sorry I bit you." The apology was acceptable. Tidy. Probably even sincere as I didn't think he'd relish having gone feral.

"I am sorry I upset you." I reciprocated. "I thought I was helping us both."

That thawed him a little. He strode over to the table, putting his hands on the back of a chair where I could see them. He didn't sit and I didn't invite him to sit. I noticed he was wearing silver cuff links shaped like snakes. I was never going to let him pick out my clothes.

"The exchange of magic sealed the mating bond. I didn't know it would. It was a shock." He spoke carefully, edging towards a truce.

"You dropped your Occlumency shields." I stated. He nodded. All very civil. I stood up, carrying my plate and cutlery to the sink. His eyes never left me. I could feel the heat of his gaze on my skin. Arousal ran like lightning down my spine.

"I was angry." That had been pretty damn obvious.

"So was I." I washed my hands and dried them, not airing any of the snappy comments I could have. "And I don't think I'll ever be comfortable with being able to order you around." He shrugged. "It matters."

"So we'll compromise." He smirked. I wanted to throw the tea towel at him.

"I'll believe that when I see it." I edged around the counter so there was nothing between us but space. "I'm not going to live at the Manor. You can live where you like but I'm going to find my own place." I studied him, noting his hands clenching and unclenching. "How bad is it?"

"Bad."

I drew my wand and raised the wards on the house, locking the doors and windows. Anyone who knew Malfoy was out of hospital would be able to figure out why my curtains were drawn in the middle of the day. I didn't expect any visitors. I headed upstairs with him a pace behind me.

The main bedroom was still my parents' room. If we were going to do this I didn't want them metaphysically or metaphorically looking over my shoulder. I'd put the two single beds in the guest room, transfiguring them together. I'd added a few pillows but it was cotton sheets not seductive satin. I sighed.

"I don't want you to lie there." There was some tension in his voice now. "As I plough the field."

"Don't worry." I shut the door. We could do this other ways. I'd found all sorts of acts to share intimacy, and a loving relationship need not be built on sex. I didn't think Malfoy would inform on me if we didn't consummate our marriage within the legal definition. But Narcissa certainly would, and I didn't want her in our bedroom either. "In this room, you will call me Mistress."

"In this room, you will call me supplicant." He answered, breathless.

I undressed him down to his skin. He'd softened while he was asleep, gaining a little weight and losing some muscle definition. He looked more approachable, less like something coiled to strike. I took a step back and took off my clothes. If I'd been less nervous I might've ordered him to do it for me but I didn't want to lose my nerve.

I kissed him.

I couldn't tell who shivered more. I felt his hands tremble on my hips, a feather light touch hastily withdrawn. I broke the kiss to catch my breath and I saw the flicker of dismay cross his face before he hid it. He didn't trust me. Well, that was fair enough because I didn't trust him either.

"Lie down on the bed, supplicant." I ordered. He complied at light speed, shoving the pillows around before stretching out on his back, erection jutting. He was a fallen angel sent to tempt me. I succumbed.

Stretching out beside him, I played with myself as he watched. I wanted him but I was tense. A few minutes of familiar touches and I shivered again. Before I could convince myself this was a bad idea, I straddled Malfoy. His hands fisted in the bedding, unwilling to move, to risk doing anything that might convince me to deny him. I had to look away to guide myself onto him and because I didn't want to see his yearning.

Ron and I... not really the best time to think of my boyfriend, I know... we hadn't got this far. He'd gone down on me and I'd got quite good at blowjobs. We'd had sex. We just hadn't done this. I told myself that it wasn't a milestone. I wasn't giving Malfoy anything special.

He groaned as I slid down onto him. The stretch was uncomfortable. My thighs trembled with the effort of going slow. I shifted and his glans rubbed across my G-spot and I relaxed a bit more at that familiar feeling. Ron was good with his hands. I rolled my hips, looking for a good angle, leaning forward until oh yes, there it was.

"You may touch me." I gave Malfoy permission. Draco, I corrected myself. You're fucking him, you should use his first name. I gasped when he ran his hands up my back, arching as though he had electrocuted me. We could've been on the black sand beach. I could smell salt and almost hear the waves. Cold crisp air swirled around me, tingling over my skin.

He didn't last long. Neither did I. The second time was better. I let him do more, let him be on top and let myself enjoy the ride. He came when I kissed his neck, scraping his skin with my teeth. The third time...

Quite a while later, I was in the shower washing my bits gently when Malfoy invited himself in. I glared as he leaned against the vanity. I like my privacy. Years of boarding school and living at the Burrow had shown me a bathroom of my own was a luxury I craved.

"I still want to fuck you." He announced.

"Thanks for sharing." I scrubbed my armpits in as unalluring a way as possible. "Did you hope the mating bond would magically go away once I gave in?"

"It would've been easier if it had." He crossed his arms over his bare chest, having got only as far as his boxer shorts when he'd dressed. "I can feel you. You're sore." He eyed me. "And you're unhappy."

"I don't imagine you're kicking up your heels with delight right now either." I couldn't sense anything from him beyond the ordinary. Occlumency was a handy skill. "I'll be content with you not running amok and everyone else minding their own business."

"You won't." The contradiction was more a statement than a sneer. He shifted uncomfortably then swore and yanked off his underwear to join me under the spray. He bumped his head on the shower-head, muttering about Muggle contraptions. "Merlin, you're short."

"Well spotted." I was in fact exactly average height for a woman from one of the industrialised nations. Which I was prepared to inform him except I was distracted by the play of water on his skin, opalescent not silver like his tears had been. Except over the Mark. It had faded but still looked oily. A stain that would never scrub out.

"I was proud of it." He said distantly, noticing where I was staring. "I wonder if Voldemort knew about the Veela? If he wanted a leash? My father was Marked early too."

"It's possible." Tom Riddle had been a cunning bastard before he had broken himself. "But your father didn't have a heat when he first met your mother, did he? You said it was the wedding prep that set him off."

"He'd already been Marked." Malfoy shrugged and started soaping himself, lathering the foam thickly over his forearm to obscure the skull and snake. "He never said anything." His mouth twisted into a bitter smile. "There was a great deal he never told me."

"That's a chronic affliction in magical circles. Dumbledore gave us the mushroom treatment too." At his quizzical eyebrow, I explained the Muggle expression. "Keep us in the dark and feed us shit." He made a sound that could've been a laugh. "I don't want that to be what it's like between us. If we can't have trust, we can at least try for honesty."

"You think that'll be enough?" His tone betrayed his doubts.

"I don't know." I gave him some of that truth I wanted so much. "But it's all we have."