Hermione walked through the streets of London with shaky legs. It was a cool, wet fall night, the leaves stirring on the sidewalks forming a steady shh. It was a while before anyone was meant to arrive, and she felt as nervous as if she were hours late.
She had spent the last several days in torment. Sometimes, she couldn't leave her bed. When she was able to make it into work she was all nerves, looking around every corner for a head of icy blond hair, or a memo with green writing. But there had been no word, barring his very late RSVP to the ball which had merited no more than a quirked eyebrow from Daphne Greengrass. He had written her name in as his plus one, which had not been a surprise to her, but it had awakened a gaping guilt and fear in her that had kept her on edge.
King's Cross Station loomed ahead of her. She'd apparated a few blocks away, hoping the walk would calm her nerves, but it was doing nothing of the sort. Not to mention, her state of dress was certainly drawing a few stares. She'd put her hair through the wringer to get tamed, unfrizzy waves rather than her regular ringlets, and it hung loose around her shoulders. She'd tried using glamour charms, rather than her usual muggle makeup, because her hands were shaking so much.
Hermione took a few deep breaths, trying to steady herself, but to no avail. She crossed the street, eyeing King's Cross station as if it were the gallows.
She had turned to look in the windows of a bookstore when she felt him nearby. He was watching her, and a heavy weight settled over her shoulders. She whipped her head around.
He was just across the street, the fall breeze blowing his hair into his eyes. It had gotten a little longer, almost brushing the tip of his nose, the collar of his tailored robes. Dark shadows like she had never seen before darkened the space under his eyes, which sparkled with malice. His lips were set in a grim, tight line.
Her cheeks grew hot, but she fought to keep her chin raised, to keep her eyes on his. She hadn't seen him in so long, even shame couldn't keep her from looking at him again.
He stepped towards her, and then hesitated, his grey eyes boring into her. A muggle girl glanced towards him and stumbled when she saw his face. Whether it was attraction or fear, Hermione sympathized with her.
Was he going to leave? Hermione's grip tightened on her evening bag and she took a step towards him.
He began to cross with grim determination, a car stopping just short. Draco's robes billowed behind him, just kissing the front bumper. As if any muggle trinket would dare to cross into his personal space.
Hermione realized she had been holding her breath, and she abruptly released it as he stepped on the curb. He was just a few feet away, but it might as well have been an ocean.
"Draco, I-" She had rehearsed the speech for days, trying her best to collect her thoughts, to give him an accurate picture.
"Here's how this is going to go." He began, frowning at her impetuous start. "Tonight, we are going to begin a 'whirlwind romance,' and shortly, I will ask you to be my wife."
Hermione froze, her mouth hanging open like a gutted fish.
"You will move into the manor. In front of my mother and in public, you will behave in a way that supports our story. You will not date nor anything else with anyone else, man or woman. You will keep our private... issues private, and that includes from your friends." His eyes turned stormy. "I will not be laughed at."
She took another step towards him, closing the distance by an intolerable foot. He was a cool, untouchable ice sculpture. Nothing you do could ever have any effect on me. If you've been congratulating yourself on eliciting my lust, I think you'll find that's far from a great indicator of a man's true interest. She remembered the words, humiliation and guilt washing over her in a wave.
"Other than that, I don't care what you do. And you can save your half baked apology. I know you meant to do it." He finished, his voice as cold as ever. He sounded just as when she'd heard his father speak to him on several occasions.
"I did mean to. That's what I'm sorry for." She protested.
He closed his eyes, as though long weary of her voice. All of his warmth was gone, and now that he was no longer trying to sleep with her, he could obviously let his true disgust with her show.
"I don't want to hear any more. It's pathetic." His lip twisted into a snarl, drawing startled looks from the muggles passing between them.
He turned away, towards the station.
"Wait, we have to talk about this," She reached for his arm.
"There's nothing to talk about." He refuted, pulling away, his hand closing into a fist as she'd seen it do before. "You had time. If you had wanted to explain, you could have written to me."
Hermione sputtered, pain slicing through her like a knife, closing up her throat. "I didn't think you wanted to speak to me."
"I don't." He replied, his eyes burning with some unspent intensity.
Hermione took a deep breath. "I wanted to tell you. I wanted to tell you before you found out. I know that doesn't matter for much but I was planning-"
He laughed, a hollow, ashy sound echoing from his throat. "Easy enough to say now. What's next? You were under the imperius?"
Hermione shrank like a flower that had been denied the sun. "I promise I-I made a mistake in the beginning b-but it's true."
"So what if it is?" He shot back.
He was right. She stood for a moment, just looking at him. He looked like he hadn't been sleeping. Probably the prospect of having to live with her looming over his head.
Her eyes fell, but she couldn't help herself from skipping to the end of her speech. "I am so sorry. I didn't know you, and I was afraid to get to know you."
That hung in the air for a long time. When she looked up, his expression had gone strange, and he looked at the ground, but he straightened, and the mask over his face when their eyes met.
He said nothing in reply, just offered her his arm, seemingly done with the conversation. He knew she would accept, that she would carry out the prophecy through until death if she had to, no matter what he did to her. She had lived through one war and she would do anything to save the world another.
Regret wrapped around her like a basilisk with intent to kill.
She linked her arm with his, her skin throbbing from his closeness. Her hand rose to the chain, as it had often over the past week. She certainly felt pathetic. It was kind of him to use that word, and not other, worse ones.
They entered the station together in silence, skipping the queue, as they already had their tickets. Several people turned and stared at their costumes, making them appear as though they were headed to some sort of extreme fancy dress party.
They walked steadily along the platform and, very casually, straight into the barrier between platforms nine and ten.
Hermione blinked as the Hogwarts express came into view. It was a strange sensation, to be back on the platform, steam from the train engine around her ankles, with some of her old classmates milling about even. Dean Thomas leaned out of the window and waved, his mouth opening to make some jolly remark before he froze, seeing her companion.
She let go of Draco's arm with mixed relief and terror, and started towards her old friend. "Dean! I'm so glad you're coming!"
"Wouldn't miss it for the world! I've been stuck in post injury training for weeks, I'd do anything to skive off." He leaned out through the window, his long, lean frame overtaking the space clearly meant to transport small children. "Speaking of, are you here with Malfoy?"
"Ah-" She fingered the chain, her stomach dropping.
A hand snaked around her waist. "She is indeed here with me, Thomas. Where's your date?"
Dean goggled at the pair of them. "I don't have a date." He replied in a distracted tone.
"Pity. I hear your old crew are all meant to be here. Finnigan, Lovegood, Potter… the whole lot." Draco tightened his grip on her, and it felt as though an ice pick was going through her chest. Dean looked at her, puzzled. She put a hand on Draco's chest and turned away from Dean to whisper in his ear.
"He knows something is wrong." Her heart was pounding. She didn't know what was worse: Draco hating her in private, where he could barely look at her, or Draco in public, who seemed to be playing the jealous lover role.
He leaned in and whispered back. "It just looks like we're fucking, Granger. This is what it looks like when you don't hide someone like a shameful secret."
She sucked in a breath. There were so many things she had to apologize for.
"Are you two…" Dean trailed off meaningfully.
"Ah- it's new. The marriage law and… everything." She blurted out.
"Oh. So you're her match." Dean lowered his eyebrows, utterly perplexed. "You don't seem too happy about it."
Dean never got very much credit for how perceptive he was during school.
"H-he's nervous. It's the first time we've been out in public and people can be… awful." She glanced at Draco, her hand still on his chest, suddenly remembering why he hadn't wanted to come in the first place. She had been so wrapped up in how to act when she saw him, she'd forgotten how difficult the night was really going to be for him. Not only did he have to deal with his new… whatever the word for this twisted bargain was, but he'd be dodging rude glances left and right.
I won't be laughed at. She hoped he wasn't, that she was at least a slight buffer. She rubbed his chest, drawing a quietly irate look from her captor.
Dean paused for a moment, digesting that bit of information. "Well then those people can go hang."
Draco inclined his head, but she could see his eyebrows were raised in surprise.
"Thanks, Dean." She glanced at Draco again, and bit her lip. "Hey, have you talked to Luna since you got back?"
Dean froze a little, and then recovered, cooly touching his chin. "You know, I actually haven't."
She nodded slightly. "You ought to." No use pretending not to know why.
"Come on, Granger. We'd better find a compartment." Draco said, his voice blank. "Thomas."
"Save me a dance, Hermione!" Dean called out as Draco led her away.
"I will! It was nice to see you, Dean!" She called back to him.
"Will we have to do that small talk cock and bull story with every sodding Gryffindor who's ever had the distinct pleasure of having you as a classmate?" He snarled, taking her towards the last few train cars.
Hermione looked around, frantic to see Harry or Ginny or any other friendly face, but they were likely to be late, all three of them. "Yes, I think so, I imagine people are going to wonder why we're here together. Especially if they knew us in school."
"I would have thought Greengrass would have spread the news like wildfire after I returned my invitation." He muttered.
Hermione blinked. "She's been preoccupied with the planning. And with Theodore Nott trying to make a mess of things."
"Trying to sabotage this humdrum affair? Whatever for?" Draco's voice had an edge to it as sharp as his grip around her waist.
"Not trying to sabotage it, trying to get her to go as his date." Hermione corrected, trying to steady her breathing as he handed her up onto the train. His fingers barely brushed hers, and she felt already like her corset was too tight.
"What was the verdict?" He asked, following her and blocking out all the light from the platform, leaving them in the dark anteroom.
There was a franticness to the moment, a frenzy to keep him here at any cost, that she couldn't shake. She thought that he would never see him again the last time they had spoken. To see him now was too much, she couldn't think.
"I think h-he wore her down." She said quietly.
The swish of her dress, the stiff set to his shoulders, it was all too much, too bizarre, too soon. She wanted to crawl back into bed and never get out again. All the same, she never wanted to be further away from him then they were at this moment. She wanted to ask him if he was sleeping. She wanted to ask him if he planned on dating other people while they carried out this pained sham. She wanted to ask him if there was anything she could do that would get him close to forgiving her, or just listening to her. She wanted to ask him to free her, and himself, from this horrible situation, to just walk away. She wanted to ask him to never leave her side.
She wanted to ask how much worse the torture would be if she loved him, as if just a taste of his derision wasn't enough of a preview.
He glanced at her face, an eyebrow rising, and reached past her to open the door to the hallway. The anteroom was flooded with light and she looked away.
What did it matter what she wanted, or what she'd hoped to save people from? What did it matter if she loved him? He didn't care for her at all.
She stepped into the first available compartment, and sat down with a heavy heart. The dress, however, wouldn't allow her to slouch, and she sat up, propped on wires and boning.
Draco sat across from her, his jacket falling open and exposing a neat white linen shirt. The door closed behind him with a flick of his wrist and she eyed it, panic rising in her throat.
"I should go check in with Daphne." She twisted her evening bag in her hands.
"Running scared, Granger."
"The preparations-" She began.
He waved a hand lazily. "By all means. Go sit with your friends, too, if you like. But once we get there you're mine."
"I'll come back." She protested with a frown. She couldn't pass up the chance to sit with him the whole way, and try to make her way through another difficult conversation.
He laughed. "Please, I'd rather be sitting with my friends too. Pity I can't."
"Well then why don't you?" She closed her eyes.
"Anyone with even a Longsbottom's worth of brains would know that all eyes will be on the organizers of the protests, the ever attention seeking Potter and his hapless friends. One would also know that as one of the least… shall we say least admired wizards in England, would also draw attention. Thus, it would not do to appear inattentive to my girlfriend." He snarled.
Hermione's stomach sank. He said girlfriend like it was synonymous with mass murderer.
"Well then… w-we could sit with your friends together." Hermione felt like she was walking across a bed of coals, just trying to move fast enough not to burn herself.
He smiled, a slow, evil thing. She was going to get burned, there was no avoiding it.