The Three Broomsticks was mostly empty on a Sunday afternoon. Todd Granger was glancing around appraisingly, seeming satisfied that it was a clean and welcoming establishment. Natalie's arm was linked tightly through her daughter's, though Hermione found it difficult to tell which one of them was meant to be reassuring the other.

"Good afternoon, Rosmerta," McGonagall greeted the proprietor.

"Afternoon, Minerva," answered the attractive witch behind the counter. She slid a tankard full of something that was smoking toward a wizened warlock at the end of the bar. "The room you requested is just up the stairs to your left there. I'm right behind you."

"Thank you."

If Madam Rosmerta found the group the headmistress had assembled to be odd, she did not betray that opinion. Draco stuck close to his mother and, Hermione noticed, kept his distance from the landlady. With sudden recollection, Hermione remembered that he had Imperiused Rosmerta two years prior, in order to convey a cursed necklace to Dumbledore up at the school. She was struck suddenly with the conviction that she really did not know Draco Malfoy at all, despite having spent much of the last month working with him.

Rosmerta followed them up with a platter of glasses floating behind her, along with pitchers of gillywater and butterbeer.

"Dad, you have to try this one," Hermione insisted in a low whisper, pouring her father a glass of butterbeer. She had often tried to describe the unique experience of the warming drink, but it was a difficult flavor to characterize.

"Do I finally get to sample the mystery draught?" Todd chuckled. Hermione watched as her father brought the glass to his lips and took his first sip. To her pleasure, a whimsical expression stole over his face. "Good Lord, that's… amazing… Natalie, you must try…"

However, Natalie Granger was clearly in no mood to be distracted by something so mundane as a beverage. As the others finished getting themselves situated, she accepted a glass but did not drink from it. Her eyes were darting from McGonagall to Narcissa Malfoy, before landing on Draco, who seemed to be leaning back nonchalantly in his chair and had fixed his eyes into a bored expression as he stared at the wall. Hermione was not fooled; she suspected Draco was feigning comfort in order to better casually observe the rest of the table without being obvious about it.

As was her wont, McGonagall wasted no time jumping into business. "You are all surely wondering what sort of predicament has caused me to assemble you here..."

"You're not pregnant, are you?" Natalie wailed, clutching her daughter's arm.

Hermione spluttered on her swig of butterbeer and flushed a brilliant shade of scarlet. "No, Mum!"

"Thank God," the mother sighed, releasing her vice-like grip. "I hear the word 'predicament' and then you showed up with a boy and… well, you're nineteen dear, so I couldn't help but wonder… I'm sure you understand… in fact, when I was nineteen..."

Todd rested his hand on his wife's, and merely said, "Nat."

"Right. I'm rambling."

Hermione wished she could sink under the table.

"This situation is a little more complex, I'm afraid," McGonagall revealed, sipping her gillywater. Narcissa was watching the headmistress quietly but with sharp eyes. "Last Friday evening, Mr. Malfoy and Miss Granger took it upon themselves to perform some unsanctioned magic on the school grounds. They built an alchemical mandala... that is, they combined their extensive knowledge of potions, arithmancy, and ancient runes to properly conduct a very tricky bit of magic that, admittedly, many fully trained witches and wizards cannot perform correctly."

Natalie was already beginning to look disapprovingly at her daughter for breaking precedent. She was a stickler for rules.

Hermione tried to explain, "It was a cool bit of magic…" but this justification sounded unimpressive, even to her own ears.

McGonagall continued as if she had not spoken, "This magic was intended to summon the most basic forms of air and water elements: the archetypes. This is a subject we have been covering extensively in Alchemy this term." The headmistress paused to sip at her drink again. "The practical application of their studies was scheduled for next term. Two intelligent students working ahead might simply have qualified for extra credit, under different circumstances. Unfortunately, their mandala was disturbed."

"Disturbed?" Todd repeated, bewildered. He had almost finished his butterbeer.

Hermione shuffled her feet nervously and chanced a look at Draco. He was still maintaining strict eye contact with the far wall, though she noticed his shoulders had tensed.

"A unicorn happened to wander out from the forest and made its way into the mandala while Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy were performing the magic there."

Narcissa's hand flew to her mouth and her eyes widened, turning to look at her son with an expression of abject horror. Hermione dismally suspected Mrs. Malfoy had studied ancient runes during her time at Hogwarts.

Todd and Natalie remained nonplussed, but Natalie was begrudging about her ignorance: "You're going to have to explain to us what that means for our daughter, Headmistress. We're not magical folk and while I could certainly explain to you in excruciating detail how to perform a root canal, I have no idea what a unicorn inside a mandala means."

"In ancient runes and in alchemy, the unicorn represents the number one due to its singular horn," Narcissa spoke up unexpectedly. She, like her son, was not making eye contact with any of the others at the table. Rather, she was now nursing a glass in both of her hands and staring at the unmoving surface of her gillywater.

"Er," interjected Todd.

"In short," Minerva interpreted, "the presence of the unicorn ensured that our young people have bound their bodies together in a unique manner." She launched into a complicated discussion about the possible repercussions of such a binding, as well as describing the physical scars and aches Hermione and Draco now shared.

It all sounded exponentially worse coming from McGonagall's mouth; she did not sugarcoat anything and harped on the hard facts rather than the reasons behind them, though Hermione had not really expected her to do any differently. Natalie was on the edge of her seat and still had not taken a single sip of the butterbeer Hermione had poured her. Todd placed an arm protectively around his daughter's shoulders as he listened with a furrow in his brow. Narcissa had gone rigidly still and there was a definite frigidity about her person, though she continued to only stare at her gillywater. Hermione thought Draco looked as if he might be ill, though someone who did not know him well might have supposed he was merely being arrogant by not paying close attention.

"I have contacted an old friend of mine who is currently an actively practicing alchemist in Ireland, and explained the nature of the situation," McGonagall went on.

Nervously, Hermione interrupted, "I visited the library yesterday after Malfoy and I left your office, professor… to do some research."

The corner of Draco's mouth twitched following her admission, but he said nothing.

"There wasn't a lot to find," she admitted, picking at the sleeve of her uniform shirt. Voice trailing off at the end, she added, "At least not immediately…"

"Unfortunately, you are unlikely to find the answer in the Hogwarts library," Minerva said gently, seeming to recognize that the interruption had arisen from nerves rather than rudeness. "Our collection is an extraordinary vestige of knowledge, it's true, but the amount of information pertaining to alchemical accidents is slim." She produced a letter from the pocket of her travelling cloak. "However, because the essence of Salt was used – being the Body of alchemy, rather than the Spirit or the Soul – the expert I consulted believes there is a good chance this is reversible."

"This is a lot to take in at once, so let me be sure I understand," Natalie requested, her voice shaking with emotion. "My daughter and this young man have bound their bodies to one another?"

"Mum," Hermione whispered frantically, "it sounds worse than it is."

"Sounds pretty incriminating," Todd agreed with his wife. He turned to the headmistress, "You said there were possible methods to undo this enchantment?"

"As I said before, I have contacted a widely respected alchemist. However, Europe has no real experts on the subject since the death of Nicholas Flamel…"

"Nicholas Flamel!" Hermione exploded.

All eyes turned to her. Even Draco and Narcissa were now watching her with nearly identical expressions of vague notice that masked their true interest in the nature of her outburst.

"Er, sorry," she apologized, flustered. "Nicholas… that is, Mr. Flamel… he was the first known creator of the Philosopher's Stone, wasn't he?"

To everyone's surprise, Professor McGonagall's expression twisted into one of polite amusement. "Indeed, Miss Granger. Perhaps you are recalling your, ah, enterprising feat from your first year with Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley, in regards to Mr. Flamel?"

"Sorry, but who was he?" Natalie queried.

Turning to her mother, Hermione explained, "Nicholas Flamel was born in 1327 and was an alchemist of considerable talent. He created the Philosopher's Stone and thus, the Elixir of Life, using information he collected from Leonardo da Vinci and Isaac Newton, among others. He died only a few years ago…"

"Only a few years ago?" Todd scoffed. "He'd have to be…"

"Six hundred and sixty-six on his last birthday," Hermione confirmed knowledgeably. She thought she saw Draco smirk ever so slightly – could almost hear him teasingly calling her a swot – but when she glanced at him, his expression was neutral.

Todd let out a low whistle, "The Elixir of Life, you say? I suppose it'd have to be, to live so long."

There was new a question nagging at Hermione now: "But Professor, what does Nicholas Flamel have to do with this experiment?"

"Mr. Flamel was able to discover the Elixir of Life, it's true," Minerva mused. "But in doing so, he first had to discover the archetype of quintessence."

"What…?" Natalie began.

McGonagall was already ahead of her: "Quintessence is often considered the fifth element – though it is not really an element at all. It's different in the same way that plasma is sometimes considered to be a form of matter merely because it is not a true solid, liquid or gas. But plasma is something else altogether and in that same way, so is quintessence. It is an elemental archetype and it isn't. Nonetheless, it is essential to the creation of the Elixir of Life. Nicholas Flamel was the first known alchemist to create quintessence."

"But what does this have to do with…?" Natalie tried again.

"The alchemist I contacted insisted that summoning the archetype of quintessence is one of only two possible solutions to this predicament."

All color drained from Hermione's face and she burst out, "But that's… nearly impossible! People have been trying for centuries..."

Natalie looked perturbed and did not seem convinced of her own words when she spoke, "I'm sure there must be some other way to undo this enchantment."

Turning to Mrs. Granger, the headmistress tried to explain, "You must understand that this sort of magical binding isn't actually an enchantment. Rather, it's a blessing. Similar to one that might be bestowed upon a marriage or the birth of a child."

"I'm afraid I don't understand the difference between an enchantment and a blessing," Todd admitted. His arm, still draped protectively over his daughter's shoulders, flexed minutely. "At least not in magical terms."

To everyone's surprise, Narcissa answered him, though she continued to look straight down at her untouched gillywater as she spoke, "There are many types of spells. Dark magic includes curses or hexes. Light magic is more typified by charms or blessings. Spells like enchantments are more neutral and can tend in either direction."

"So a blessing isn't Dark magic," Natalie snapped. She seemed unwilling to be polite any longer in her haste to get answers which she felt were being withheld. "What does that mean?"

"Being of the Light, a blessing barely affects one's physical or magical self," McGonagall jumped in. "It is the opposite of Dark magic, which leaves stains on one's magical core, no matter how small the spell or how innocent the intention. However, that does not preclude Light magic being powerful in its own way."

"I think I follow so far," Todd encouraged, "though I'll admit I'm having a hard time trying to figure out where this conversation is headed."

The headmistress seemed to be dreading this part of the conversation in particular as she took a long drink from her gillywater before replying.

She's stalling, Hermione noticed with interest. She had never known McGonagall to waffle about anything before.

Finally, "A blessing lingers for a year and a day before it can be magically undone. When a blessing is bestowed upon a newborn child, it is extremely tricky to do away with - if, in fact, such a thing is warranted. In the case of wizarding marriage, such a blessing can only be undone by a wizarding divorce." McGonagall now turned to look expressively at Hermione. "A divorce is neutral magic and it unbinds all enchantment. For example, were someone under the influence of Polyjuice or the Imperius, a wizarding divorce would unbind them from such shackles…"

"Merlin and Agrippa!" Hermione swore as everything clicked into place within her mind. "You want us to get married!"

"The expert I contacted thought it would be the easiest way to undo the mandala's magic," the headmistress admitted. McGonagall's words were no-nonsense as always, but her expression had softened considerably.

Todd spoke up immediately. "No. Absolutely not."

Hermione was vaguely aware that her parents had begun arguing, not only with McGonagall, but amongst themselves. She, meanwhile, had slipped into a strange state of consciousness: cognizant of her surroundings, yet not. She thought she might be on the verge of another panic attack.

Heart quickening, she was bodily aware of the blood pulsing through her arteries. In fact, Hermione could almost say she felt the neurons firing throughout her body, branching through axons and dendrites - but surely she could not be aware something so cellular. Draco's eyes flickered up to her face as if he had noticed her panic, though he could do nothing to help her from the other side of the table.

"If the bond remains in place as it is," McGonagall was trying to advise, "neither Mr. Malfoy nor Miss Granger will be able to marry anyone else."

Strangely detached from the argument breaking out all around her – in which Todd had begun to speak with a raised voice he did not often use and Natalie was spitting with anger – Hermione vaguely noticed Narcissa had joined the argument.

"The bond is already marriage-like in nature," the pureblood witch was explaining (rather patiently, considering the vein that was throbbing in her temple). "Wizarding marriages are not only legal bindings, but magical ones as well…"

"I fail to see how that is my daughter's problem," Natalie interrupted. "So they share a bodily bond of sorts. Why should that prevent them marrying other people?"

Narcissa stopped her coldly, and in a voice that could have commanded armies, elucidated, "My son is the sole heir to one of the oldest and most powerful wizarding estates in Britain! He must marry a suitable, reproductively compatible witch at some point to continue that tradition. However, since he is currently bound to Miss Granger, doing so is impossible for him. Therefore, even if he were to attempt marriage to another, there is no guarantee that everything would work out well for the estate."

"Not Hermione's problem!" Todd growled.

Breathe, Hermione. You can do it. Just breathe.

Narcissa shifted her cold, blue eyes to Mr. Granger and stared at him in a manner she might do as if he were a bit of sludge that had dared stick itself to her shoe. "It certainly is Miss Granger's problem if she ever wishes to enter into the marriage state."

"There are other ways to be wed," Todd protested, going red in the face. "Normal marriages aren't this… ridiculous."

"Dad," Hermione warned, but she did not sound very threatening. Instead, she only sounded tiny as she struggled to keep her breathing steady. Breathe… just breathe… "Please don't…"

"If you think your daughter will be happy being married to a Muggle – an inferior man in terms of skill and intelligence, unattached to the world she's immersed herself in – then you are blind." Hermione was unsure if it was her imagination, but the Malfoy matriarch sounded quite smug when she spoke these words, as if she had been simply dying to make a disparaging Muggle-related comment the entire time and had only now found an opportunity. Hermione's face burned with shame, but she was too caught up in not having a meltdown to defend herself, her parents, or the world she came from.

Just breathe… in and out… in and… out… in… and…

"What are you suggesting, mother?" Draco finally spoke up.

Narcissa clicked her tongue at her son in an exasperated manner, as though she thought he should have caught on by now. "You must marry Miss Granger, of course – so you can divorce in a year and a day."

The room was silent for two full seconds – two seconds that seemed an eternity – for no one knew what to say to this announcement.

Finally, Hermione was able to stutter out, "W-What? But… but if the divorce doesn't work… Malfoy and I… we're stuck married!"

Perhaps it was her imagination, but a strange expression seemed to briefly pass over Draco's face before disappearing entirely.

"I fail to see how this is an issue for you," Narcissa retorted, folding her arms over her chest and staring down her aristocratic nose at her. "You certainly have nothing to lose from it, I'm sure. It is a far bigger risk for the traditions of the Malfoy family."

"Mother," Draco cautioned lowly.

But Hermione had inexplicably collected herself at this bout of rudeness and had switched from pending panic attack into battle mode. "Oh, right – of course it would be considered a 'good match' for me to marry into your supremacist family that thinks I and everyone like me, are scum!"

"And what does that mean?" Todd demanded, angrily looking from Hermione to Narcissa. He had gone red in the face, just like his daughter.

Mrs. Malfoy folded her arms across her chest and coolly responded, "It simply means that under any other circumstances, I would be loath to invite Miss Granger, or any of her kind, to integrate themselves into my family."

"Narcissa," McGonagall warned through her clenched teeth. "This is unwise."

The witch seemed not to hear. "Mudbloods are the greatest cankers of wizarding society. Their greed for magic prevents them from seeing or caring about the damage they do to good, respectable…"

"Do not finish that sentence!" Hermione implored, jumping from her seat and knocking clumsily into the table as she did so. Natalie's untouched butterbeer tipped and spilled, rapidly spreading down the length of the table. No one made a move to clean it up. Hermione was glaring at Narcissa with as much venom as she could muster, "I am not marrying your son, you… you spoiled, selfish hag!"

With that, she strode across the room and wrenched the door open to leave.

"Miss Granger!" McGonagall called after her.

"I'll go after her," Draco could be heard volunteering as Hermione tore down the stairwell to the exit.

Breathe! Just breathe...

"You'll do no such thing!" Todd countered. "You've done enough damage as it is, boy."

"Hermione!" Natalie called.

But Hermione could not stop. She kept going until she had left the Three Broomsticks entirely and was halfway down the main street of Hogsmeade before she realized it was too exposed. Ducking down a side street that seemed to be mainly comprised of private residences, she was able to stop and catch her breath.

Breathe in... breathe out… keep it together, Hermione…

The moment her breathing began to steady, she felt queasy. She clutched at a bit of fencepost that encircled a neat garden and yard in front of someone's tidy cottage.

The cold voice of Narcissa drawled, You must marry Miss Granger, of course.

Then, Theodore Nott's face materialized in the forefront of her mind, looking smug as he cleaned his glasses: One thing I saw for certain, was you and Draco – and you're married.

"Granger!" Draco's voice could be heard calling after her from down the lane.

There was only a split-second's notice - barely enough time for Hermione to gather her hair to keep it from her face - before she vomited spectacularly into the garden's compost heap on the other side of the fencepost.

.

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Author's Note: Thank you so much to everyone who left me a review! People who review are like free ice cream on a hot, summer day. Ahh, that's good.

I also want to give thanks to my freakin' fantastic beta (I was BOTWP), who is experiencing lots of exciting things in her life at the moment, but still found some time to look over this chapter for me and give me her thoughts and opinions. This chapter is better for it, for sure.