Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. All recognisable characters and aspects of the magical world are the property of J.K Rowling . This story is for creative purposes only and I neither receive any benefits nor profits for the creation of this work.
Hello! This is my first time writing fanfiction. Although I've been an avid fan of Harry Potter fanfiction for many years, I have only recently decided to contribute to the amazing fandom that is Dramione. I hope that I do my favourite pairing justice. Please remember that I am not a professional author, and while constructive criticism is appreciated, I am merely trying to practice my love for writing and story telling.
This story can be found on AO3 under the same title.
Please be aware that this is a Mature rated story and that there will be elements of violence and explicit sexual scenes as the story progresses.
Thank you for giving my fic a chance!
Marshmallow.
Staring blankly at the pile of parchment stacked before her, Hermione had long since disregarded what was happening around her. After the final verdict had been read, the Wizangamot chamber had disappeared into a blurred and distorted haze as her mind repeated the events of the morning. Over and over, she had recounted every detail, her hands clenching until her knuckles turned white from constriction.
She had lost.
At length, the remaining Wizangamot members began to shuffle through the many rows of benches; a few of them stealing pitiful glances at the sight of her defeated expression; though, they didn't care—not really. If they did, the morning would have turned out differently.
Again, their votes had been cast in favour of outdated research and archaic reasoning. If Hermione weren't feeling so broken, she may have laughed at the predictability of it all. But her mouth felt painfully dry, and she feared any sound she made would emerge as a sob, instead.
Another appeal rejected.
Another prejudiced law she had failed to abolish.
In truth, she had known it was foolish to think this time would be any different. After nearly six months working within the Department of Magical Law enforcement, and more than four years employed within the Ministry itself, she had achieved little progress to show for it.
It was as if nothing had changed at all.
Straight out of Hogwarts, with record breaking NEWT scores and esteemed recommendations, she had quickly put her mind to work with the hope of improving the rights of magical creatures and beings. But it was not to be. They were right; they had told her this would happen; defeating Voldemort was nothing compared to the corruption of the Ministry.
"Better luck next time, Granger." A quiet voice sounded next to her, pulling her from her reverie.
Looking up at the solemn expression of Percy Weasley, Hermione attempted a weak smile.
"I had thought it would be a sure vote," Percy continued. "That law is almost three-hundred years old. Why they would think muggleborns still need to declare their residency—and those of their muggle families—is absurd. No wonder the Ministry had such an easy time persecuting people during the war."
Still numb with disappointment, she nodded absently in reply.
"You just need to find a different angle to approach these laws with. Get their attention somehow, you know."
"Thanks Percy," Hermione sighed, "I'll keep that in mind."
Rising from the bench, she gathered her notes and and moved towards the exit, easily slipping past the many elderly witches and wizards still mulling around and talking about the session.
"—Giving muggleborns such freedom, it's dangerous, if you ask me."
"—Quite right. It's only a matter of time before one of them exposes us to the muggles. There's a limit to what the Ministry is able to repair; it's why these laws were created in the first place."
A chorus of muffled agreement quickly followed.
—"Indeed, indeed... Constant supervision, that's what muggleborns need."
Hermione stiffened, her brow pulling together tightly as she glared in the direction of the huddled Wizangamot crowd.
Nothing.
They gave not even a single acknowledgement of having seen her. Her opinion, not matter where or what, fell short of their regard.
Shaking her head, the hexes brimming at the tip of her tongue were repressed against the hard line of her lips as she made her way down the corridor once more. Though, with her anger giving way to a deeper emotion, and the voices slowly fading behind her, she struggled to fight back the tears welling within her eyes.
If only there was a way to make them listen.
The morning hours ticked by slowly as Hermione tediously made notes and referenced the various sources of evidence she would need in support of her latest appeal. Hardened with a resolve borne from failure, she had wasted no time in resuming her work. It was already nearing noon when her concentration was disrupted by a hesitant knock on her office door.
"Yes?" She called out, not bothering to look up from the page she was currently reading.
The door cracked open and Marissa, her assistant, nervously poked her head through. "You have um—There's a—well, Lady Malfoy is here to see you, Miss Granger." Marissa stumbled over the words quickly in her flustered state.
Hermione's head snapped up.
Blinking, she felt the colour slowly drain from her face. The Malfoy's hadn't interfered within the Ministry for years. Whatever the reason for Lady Malfoy's visit, it couldn't be good.
"What?" Hermione breathed, fumbling with her notes before setting them down on the desk with a smoothing swipe of her hand. "Tell her... ah, no. Please kindly explain to Lady Malfoy that I have no time for complaints today. She will have to make an appointment with the Department for the Regulation of Magical Creatures. Although I helped create the House-elf Regulation Act, I no longer work there and cannot be of assistance."
Marissa nodded slowly before ducking back out to inform Lady Malfoy.
To be expected, barely a handful of moments had passed before Marissa was once again knocking on the door and nervously entering the office, looking positively more flustered than before.
"Lady Malfoy insists," she squeaked.
Now irritated, Hermione's eyes narrowed perceptively. This same, pretentious behaviour—exhibited by most of the pureblood families—was precisely the reason she was having such difficulty trying to convince the magical community to change for the obvious betterment of all.
"Very well," she answered calmly. "Send Lady Malfoy in."
Looking relieved that she wouldn't have to deny Lady Malfoy a second time, Marissa retreated to escort Hermione's unexpected guest towards the office. When the polite knock on her office door sounded shortly after, Hermione braced herself as she called out for Lady Malfoy to enter.
The door opened slowly, revealing the very witch whom she hadn't laid eyes upon in over five years. In fact, Hermione hadn't seen any of the Malfoys since the Death Eater trials which were conducted shortly after the war. Now, Narcissa stood proudly within the doorframe to Hermione's office, her aura of superiority confidently displayed for all to see.
"Good afternoon, Miss Granger," Narcissa greeted evenly, her heels clicking conspicuously against the floor as she stepped into the small office.
Hermione, who had stood at Narcissa's greeting, privately acknowledged that Lady Malfoy looked very out of place within the lower levels of the DMLE. Admittedly, she couldn't help but gape at the immaculately groomed witch before her. Narcissa's silken black, designer robes and ornate jewellery set her apart from everyone who walked the halls of the Ministry.
With a tight lipped smile, Narcissa gazed around Hermione's dishevelled office—her brow raising slightly at the sight of the many stacks of folders and parchment which covered nearly every surface. Stepping closer, Narcissa extended her long, gloved arm out towards Hermione. "Please, do sit down. I understand that my presence was not expected," she chimed, gesturing to Hermione's own chair.
Hermione grit her teeth, but said nothing. Only Lady Malfoy would ask someone to take a seat in their own office. Resuming her usual position behind her desk, she quietly observed as Narcissa glanced warily towards the single guest chair that had been conjured for her use. At length, being careful to sit upon only the edge of the chair, Narcissa sat down, crossing her legs daintily as she did so.
"Good afternoon, Lady Malfoy," she greeted at last.
When Hermione said nothing further, Narcissa's smile wavered slightly.
"You must be wondering why I have decided to visit the Ministry today?" Narcissa began evenly. "I have come to ask for your help with a very delicate matter regarding my family."
With a sigh, Hermione sat up straighter.
"The House-elf regulation laws were first enforced two years ago. I am no longer in a position to hear complaints, Lady Malfoy," she admonished. "I apologise if you are here to seek immediate clarification on the matter; you'll find that the Ministry rarely works efficiently at the best of times—for anyone."
Narcissa's gaze narrowed, but without falter, she replied with a politeness Hermione could only be impressed by. "Thank you for your... concern, Miss Granger. However, I am here on a much more personal matter. I have no complaints with the Ministry, today."
"You're not here to contest against the House-elf regulations?" Hermione enquired.
"I understand you have received much animosity in the past few years from those I am... acquainted with."
Hermione barely contained her laughter at Narcissa's choice of words. After the regulation had been enforced, Hermione had received numerous howlers and aggravated visits by many witches and wizards whom had been deemed unfit to continue their ownership of house-elves.
Lady Malfoy was decidedly more than mere 'acquaintances' with the majority of the elite pureblood population within the United Kingdom—and probably most of Europe too.
Refusing to comment, she simply waited for Narcissa to get to the point of her visit.
"I acknowledge that the circumstances are quite unprecedented, though, one can hardly proceed normally with such matters, given your unfortunate lack of a magical family to represent you. Thus, I have simply come to proposition you yourself, Miss Granger." Face devoid of emotion, Narcissa continued in a serious tone. "Speaking plainly... I intend for you to wed my son."
Hermione spluttered in a very un-ladylike manner. Her thoughts had started fuming at Narcissa's mention of her parents, however, it had been Narcissa's unexpected revelation that had rendered her in an immediate state of shock.
Forgetting how to breathe properly, Hermione stared in mute horror at the witch before her.
Was this a joke? One of George's indelicate attempts at a prank once again? Maybe, she should check Lady Malfoy for spell damage?
"What?" She demanded breathily, still staring at Narcissa with notable disbelief.
"My son, Miss Granger." Narcissa pressed on, seemingly ignoring Hermione's bewildered reaction. "He needs your help. My family needs your help. Of course, we shall have to discuss the details of a marriage contract accordingly—you'll find it necessary upon the consideration of the binding ritual you will need to perform."
Narcissa brandished her wand and in a single, intricate movement, produced a stack of crisp, white parchment out of thin air. With another flick of her wand, the numerous folders adorning Hermione's desk neatly stacked themselves up high before levitating towards the 'rejection' corner of the office—depositing themselves on the floor with a loud huff of heavy paper and old dust.
Hermione snapped out of her stupor upon hearing the echoing sound of her work hitting the floor. Glaring momentarily at the conjured stack of white parchment—which now solely sat on the desk before her—she looked up to meet the gaze of a very confident looking Lady Malfoy.
"No." She replied firmly, finding her voice at last.
Upon hearing Hermione's decisive answer, Narcissa's smile dropped and her posture stiffened dangerously. It was becoming increasingly apparent that Lady Malfoy did not handle rejection well.
"No? don't be absurd girl. This is a wonderful opportunity. I understand you have neither the breeding nor background for such a contract, though, that can all be amended... mostly." Narcissa bristled, her nose turning up slightly upon the last word.
"I care nothing for your son." Hermione snapped, trying to remain calm.
"Naturally." Narcissa leveled her with another cold stare. "You will notice that this contract is a traditional Malfoy marriage proposal contract. You will only need to read through it to realise that feelings hold little regard within the progression of such a noble house."
Hermione gawked at Narcissa once more. It was a marriage proposal contract that Lady Malfoy had conjured? A Malfoymarriage proposal contract...
Glancing back and forth between the conspicuous stack of parchment—the contract—and Narcissa's unrevealing expression, Hermione was about to protest against the whole ordeal once more before she remembered what Narcissa had previously said.
"You said that you needed me to help your son..."
Lady Malfoy's eyes were her only betrayal of emotion towards Hermione's statement.
"Yes." Narcissa replied in a clipped voice. "Though, I think the details of my son's... condition, are hardly appropriate before the terms of marriage are discussed and signed; the personal lives of my family are a delicate matter amongst those with no care for our reputation."
"I do not wish to marry your son, Lady Malfoy." Hermione sighed. "However, I may still be able to help him."
Narcissa laughed without any trace of humour. "Surely, one such as yourself should be grateful for an opportunity to marry into wealth and status? Miss Granger, this is the only offer of this nature you're likely to ever receive."
"I don't care for your money."
Scoffing loudly, Narcissa regarded Hermione with obvious disapproval. "One would think that a mudbl—muggleborn like yourself would appreciate the chance to dabble in the areas of society still so distant from your... sort."
Hermione had noticed the obvious slip in language before Narcissa had corrected herself; all traces of feigned politeness were evidently falling away.
Lady Narcissa Malfoy was not to be refused. The Malfoy family were not to be refused. Marissa had only recently discovered that herself, butHermione couldn't care less.
"My sort have access to many aspects of society, revolutionary academia and sciences which many in the wizarding world wouldn't dare to imagine were possible to exist."
Narcissa merely smirked. "Such passion, such fight within you. Though, it would do you well to remember the world which you have chosen to be a part of... Such thoughts of muggle advancements will serve you little purpose in your Ministry work."
Hermione glared at Lady Malfoy in anger. How dare she?
"tut, tut." Narcissa drawled sourly. "I see that I have caught a nerve. Not so fortunate within the Ministry after all, are you, my dear?"
"Your offer means nothing to me. You and your family, you have neither that which I need nor want—least of all, your son."
Narcissa disregarded Hermione's words with a slight wave of her hand.
"I may understand why such a dull girl would have little thought for opulence and comfort, though, I cannot fathom why a career orientated witch such as yourself, would pass the opportunity to wield such an influence over the Wizangamot and the circles in which its members move in. Surely, what I am offering has at least made its appeal in that regard?"
Once again, Hermione found herself at a loss for words.
It was certainly possible that such a connection with the Malfoy family would effortlessly gain her favour with many Wizangamot representatives. Such an old, pureblood name would undoubtably require even those who were still prejudiced, to consider the appeal of a muggleborn witch.
"I'll admit that your family's political influences and connections are the only favourable qualities which your offer presents."
Narcissa Malfoy feigned a polite smile once more. "Indeed."
"But why not ask another witch—a more suitably bred witch?" Hermione pried, her mind now reeling with all the possibilities.
Would she be able to sacrifice her own happiness in life for the betterment of countless others? She wondered. However, the actual prospect of marrying Draco Malfoy seemed to halt all her thoughts of heroism.
"I will acknowledge that I have exhausted all possibilities available. There were… a few, whom I deemed acceptable. Unfortunately, most of the candidates were already attached to a partner, and the rest proved too weak in both character and magical proficiency to succeed with such a task." Narcissa admitted solemnly.
"I fail to understand the necessity for such a prerequisite. What is it that your son needs saving from, Lady Malfoy? Have you not sought alternate guidance? I do not believe you would actually want for me to marry the sole heir to the Malfoy line?"
"Miss Granger."Narcissa paled, seemingly discomforted at having to repeatedly explain herself. "I would not ask you unless you were the last option—the last chance that I had to get my son back. To restore the most Noble House of Malfoy and save the last true male heir of the Ancient House of Black, understand that I must do anything."
Hermione nodded, choosing to ignore Narcissa's continuous, subtle insults. She wanted more answers.
"But saved from what?"
"That is not for me to say. I had thought that such a prestigious marriage prospect, would have been enough to entice yourhelp."
"But, I'm a muggleborn. You must acknowledge the many complications which would undoubtably arise." Hermione challenged. "Even if I were to agree to such a ridiculous notion for my own benefit, your son would be as equally miserable as myself."
"My son knows the importance of furthering the Malfoy bloodline. It is true that your blood is... unfavourable. Nevertheless, the Malfoy line has been known to discreetly mix with those of lesser blood in the past for the sake of prosperity... Do you know anything pertaining to the history of Malfoy and muggle relations before the statute of secrecy was enforced? I do believe that you would find your discoveries most... interesting." Narcissa countered with an air of nonchalance.
"Draco willingly agreed to this?" Hermione gaped in disbelief, leaning back in her chair. This was turning out to be very complicated."I did not realise his situation was so severe."
"My son does not know that I'm here. He... well, he has asked me to let him die."
"He's willingly dying!" Hermione gasped incredulously. "Does he not believe that he can be saved?"
"He understands that there are no witches with the ability to save him, Miss Granger."
"Except me, or so you would have me believe it to be thus."
How ironic, Hermione thought. The same mudblood he so enjoyed to tease, supposedly held his life within her hands—and he didn't even know...
"Your talents are not to be doubted, Miss Granger. I assure you, my proposal is not only one of great need, but is also the utmost of compliments regarding both your magical proficiency and perhaps some of your character."
"Why now?" Hermione asked sharply. Noting Narcissa's suddenly confused expression, she pressed on. "Why go against your own beliefs at your son's expense? Considering your family's recent history... I find it questionable that you would only now put aside your prejudices when there is no other choice. This isn't the first time that your son's life has been in danger—though I do acknowledge your part in Voldemort's defeat—why should I help you, when you have given me no other reason to believe your family worthy of such a kindness when his life was threatened before?"
Narcissa flinched at Hermione's blunt words.
"An understandable question, Miss Granger."
Hermione waited, interested to hear what Narcissa would say. From experience, she knew that many of Voldemort's previous supporters held little accountability or recognition for their past actions.
"I was raised to follow orders despite my own convictions. It was only when my son was threatened during the war, that I realised how important it was to protect those you loved, no matter what is expected of you." Narcissa paused, her voice lowering. "You are an intelligent witch, Miss Granger. I am sure that you are able to acknowledge the many influences of one's upbringing?"
Hermione gave a hesitant nod.
Swallowing audibly, Narcissa continued, her voice now choked with emotion."My son, Draco, he is my one accomplishment. As a girl, I was raised with the knowledge of my only purpose being to further the line of my own noble house as well as the distinguished house of my husband. I have taken pride in my family and in my house—for all of my life. I have fought for it when a dark wizard led me to believe it was threatened. I have betrayed for it against the same dark wizard who suddenly sought to harm it. Now, the family I knew as a young girl have all gone; The Ancient House of Black is a distant memory, and the Noble House of Malfoy is doomed to follow. I cling to each final day with my son, knowing that I have failed my purpose many times: as a wife, as a follower, as a witch... but not as a mother, not yet. Please, I beseech you, Miss Granger, spare my son. Spare my only boy whom so much of wizarding culture rests upon. He does not deserve the fate his parents have bestowed upon him."
Having not expected such a raw outburst of emotion from the previously demure witch in front of her, Hermione stared at Narcissa in awe. Shifting in her seat, she felt her heart stutter with the thought of what she would need to do—what she would need to say.
Though, she would bet on Merlin's beard that Narcissa would not approve of what she was about to say either...
With one last glance towards Narcissa, who now sat delicately patting her face with a silk handkerchief, Hermione made her decision.
"I would like to speak to Draco."