Happy Birthday, Lorelai Love Spencer-Meraz
. . . . . . . . . .
Hermione stood at the window of Draco's bedroom – of their bedroom – and looked out at the meticulously maintained gardens of Malfoy Manor. "You voted for it," she said.
"I had to," he said, coming up behind her and resting his hands on her shoulders. "You know that. To do this thing we're doing I have to vote for every measure and carry one end of a Death Eater banner in every parade."
"I know." Her voice was laced with resignation as she leaned her head back against him. "I still hate it."
Harry Potter had defeated Voldemort and the Death Eaters had won anyway. It wasn't that surprising; they'd already controlled the Ministry and the press. Articles had run lauding Harry Potter's sacrifice – he hadn't made it off the battlefield after a much lamented stray hex from a Death Eater had struck him – and that was that. Draco wrapped his arms around the woman in front of him and sighed. "I'll keep you safe," he promised again. "To be the adored mistress of a powerful man isn't the worst position."
"Mistress," she said, voice bitter now.
Muggle-borns were prohibited from marrying purebloods. Muggle-borns need not apply to most jobs. Muggle-borns were encouraged to stay in their place.
"I'd marry you if I could," he said, voice low. "You know that. We can still leave, if you want. Say the word and I'll have us both in the French chateau within the hour, ring on your finger and binding vow tying you to me."
"And another person working to end this – to even temper this madness – is gone," she said and shook her head. "I just wish – "
"I know," he said. "But I will keep you safe. Anyone who even looks at you wrong, much less –"
"Calls me a Mudblood?"
"Exactly. They'll wish they hadn't. They'll die wishing they hadn't."
She ran her hand over the Mark on his arm. "Death Eater," she said. "And now it's what runs the country."
"We're a noble, fraternal organization," Draco said, mocking himself even as he held her against him. "Meetings. Dues. I think I'm supposed to bring the drinks next time."
"And they expect you to kill people for sport or out of irritation of because you're bored."
"They do," he said.
And he did. He'd never tell her how many people he'd slaughtered in his role as Death Eater and head of the Malfoy family. He'd never tell her his threat that anyone who insulted her would die wasn't empty; that it had, indeed, already been fulfilled. She could walk down the street without fear because she was his and people knew it; if keeping her safe meant he had to dirty every last corner of his soul he'd do it.
"You're a good man, Draco Malfoy," she said.
"Even though I voted for today's disgusting bill?" he asked, resting his cheek on her hair.
"How many people did you smuggle out this week?" she asked.
"About a dozen," he said.
She turned in his arms and he held onto her. He kept her safe, she kept him whole.
"A good man," she said again as they stood there.
. . . . . . . . . .
A/N – I am a tad behind on these. If you are a regular reviewer and would like one you have to ask via PM for organizational reasons. Otherwise it just won't happen because I have too much going on to keep things straight.