The young witch might have appeared calm on the outside, but she was boiling inside. Never in her life had she been that furious. If she had a wand, the manipulative bastard would have begged for a quick death, but somehow she suspected that they both knew she would have chosen another unforgivable, one she was far more familiar with.

The walls and windows of the restaurant were shaking almost as if there was a typhoon raging outside. Only there wasn't one forecast. A crowd of people, curious about what was going on, was forming outside the elegant establishment, peeking through the windows yet nobody dared to make a sound. Seeing a powerful witch lose control over her powers was a rare sight even within big wizard communities and it was enough to make the Japanese forget their manners.

"Get me home! NOW!"

The Slytherin obeyed and apparated them home. Hermione rushed upstairs and barricaded herself inside the library. She slowly sank to the ground and let out a weird sounding growl, tears were running down her face. She took a series of long deep breaths. Her mind went blank.

Staring aimlessly at her surroundings Hermione noticed for the first time how differently the ancient wards felt. While they used to be hostile they now seemed to welcome her and made her feel almost as if she belonged here. She also felt that those wards only reluctantly let go of their old masters. She felt connected to the old castle and in hindsight, the feeling had been there for the entire day and with that, the realization hit her like the Hogwarts Express: She was married. Married the way witches and wizards have done for centuries.

All those years of studying in Hogwarts had not prepared her for this. And as much as she hated to admit it, the Death Eater had a point. Hermione actually was oblivious to entire schools of magic. Why did no one ever tell her?

She was just a child thrown into a new world and naturally, she acted the way she was thought to. She kept the views and values her parents infested on her. The young witch never had the time to ask herself the big philosophical questions and now she was stuck on the other side of the world with none other than Lucius Malfoy.

She hated that so many people had died. She needed answers. She needed to scream at Dumbeldore. Why did he not explain things to them? Did he leave them oblivious on purpose? What was his endgame? And suddenly she was glad that she had Lucius as company. With him at least she knew his opinions, he made them very clear to her. Lucius Malfoy was conservative. He wanted to maintain the wizard way of life and he was in favor of a clear separation from the muggle world.

Hermione petted her lap to calm down and keep her thoughts in line. Her index finger rubbed against her panties. With horror, the young witch had to realize that they were damp. Her finger exploringly slid inside her folds, she found herself sticky and wet. Smelling on her finger the young war-heroine had to admit to herself that she was indeed aroused. Hermione buried her face into her palms. Something was wrong with her. How can she be aroused from being manipulated and abused by an evil Death Eater?

But the clever Slytherin managed to out-smart her. He was not only beautiful, but he also had a beautiful mind. A part of her felt oddly proud to call the intelligent wizard her h-, h-, husband. That word still sounded wrong, but technically she did agree to be his wife. Maybe things didn't turn out as she had always imagined them, but she didn't really want to leave the Malfoy patriarch either. He was a wizard who could be quite brilliant and was capable of genius planning.

Hermione wasn't ready to face him again. She needed to cool down and frankly, she simply didn't want him to think he could get away with manipulating her that easily. Instead, she decided to spend the night before her wedding in the library, away from her husband as tradition dictated.

She summoned her pearled handbag and dressed in Harry's old Gryffindor-tricot for the night, having any kind of bonding ceremony without her friends and family was hard. But not having to explain to them how she had gotten herself into that kind of situation made this thought a lot more bearable. She would have to tell them eventually but hopefully, this point in time was still far away.

Looking around Hermione found a few empty bookshelves. Motivated by her newfound confidence as the lady of the castle she decided to fill them with her own books. Most of them were her textbooks, but there were also the edition of 'Tales of Beadle the Bard' she inherited from Dumbledore and the books on Horcruxes she studied for her task. The young witch also carried books, both magical and muggle, on medicine and healing. There were also a number of books she had purchased but never got the chance to read them, having to look after Harry and Ron she had not had nearly enough time to read and discover.

Her big colorful textbooks looked out of place next to the delicate ancient Japanese ones, yet spreading her belongings throughout the library gave her a sense of living here and more importantly arriving. Having taken care of her prized possessions, Hermione decided to transfigure something into a bed and sleep.

When she woke up she felt terrible. Her slumber wasn't nearly as relaxing as she hoped it would be. It had taken her ages to finally fall asleep only to be woken every couple of hours by nightmares. The young witch prayed she hadn't screamed. And what was once a comfortable bed with warm and soft blankets was now nothing more than one of those scratchy mats made from recycled textiles muggle use to cover the floor during construction work. Her wandless transfiguration was all in all pathetic, but that only encouraged Hermione to work harder and keep practicing. It must be possible for her to make something last and stay in shape for at least a day, countless African witches and wizards do so effortlessly.

She rushed to the bathroom, took a quick shower and bath, and dried herself. At least the hair-drying charm worked without causing further complications. Since it was her wedding day, the young witch wanted to look beautiful and applied some mascara and lipstick. She even painted her finger- and toenails red. She had found it in the second top left drawer, wondering vaguely why a wizard has make-up at home, but it was most likely part of some PR-stunt or samples. By now, she knew how invested Lucius was when it comes to his companies. Hermione wouldn't put it beneath to have designed the campaign himself.

Hermione would never spend that much money on something like beauty products, but since they were already at hand and Malfoy's products were (of course) the very best she had no qualms about using it. And it did make her feel (and look) fabulous. The war-heroine dressed in the lovely red dress she had worn at Bill's wedding and the only pair of high-heels she owned. She took a breath and a last look at herself before heading downstairs.

The staircase was narrow and steep. The individual steps were each of a slightly different hight and generally far higher than the normed ones she was used to. There wasn't enough space to place her feet and if it wasn't already been hard enough, centuries of usage have smoothed the wood. All in all, it was a deathtrap.

Hermione was so relieved she made it in one piece that she hadn't noticed the blonde wizard watching her. The older wizard looked at her with awe. She looked so much better with her wild mane, the red lipstick, and wearing something feminine than he had ever imagined. For a brief moment, his masked slipped and his mouth curved forming a little smile. He kissed her hand and accompanied her to the formal dining room.

"I had not known you could carry yourself so well in high-heels."

"I can also run from Death Eaters in them," she said proudly, "sorry, I didn't mean it that way."

"Do not fret. I have to admit, I was concerned you would not show."

"Well, I have to admit that running away and hitting you were options I thoroughly contemplated, but I shall thank you for showing me the unique beauty of the Slytherin mind. I'm starting to see as to why you are feared."

He kissed her cheek. "Thank you for the compliment, it means a lot coming from you."

"I'm not sure if that was a compliment." He chuckled.

"Why do Gryffindors always wear their heart on their sleeves?"