Song Suggestion: Lil Peep- "Save that Shit" (Draco's perspective. 100% his song.) and Carolesdaughter- "Violent" (Hermione's perspective)
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Terms for Removal
Hermione
The great hall expanded to fit the extra people. Hermione tried not to notice she was one of the only students without parents by her side. Draco no longer looked at her since standing on the stage. His mother perched next to him, looking elegant in a white robe. Not a single bite of food passed her lip.
Ginny sat next to her only long enough to groan.
"Finally, this fucking thing is over." And then she flung off her heavy graduation robe, revealing a scandalous red muggle dress underneath. It adhered to her body, and she gave no care she evoked gasps from the purebloods around them. Mrs. Weasley glared down the table at her rebellious daughter.
"Everyone is looking at you," Hermione said.
Ginny flung her hair off her shoulder in a graceful shrug with a spark of her fire she hadn't seen since the summer.
"I hope they are."
And they were. Even Theo Nott had forgotten his shepherd pie, fork hovering in the air, eyes wide, mouth slightly open. And then he quickly looked away shoveling food in his mouth as if on a mission.
She sauntered down the aisle with a sway of her hips that caught the eyes of every male in the room and plopped down next to Ron and the rest of the Weasley's.
Hermione returned to her food, trying not to feel utterly alone when someone sat beside her. She looked up to find Neville grinning at her sheepishly.
"I hope you don't mind."
Neville didn't have parents either. Relief flooded Hermione. He looked at the empty spots next to her, but graciously didn't ask questions. They were orphans without being orphans, parents held at the same facility. Who would have thought she'd ever have so much in common with Neville Longbottom?
"Of course not. How's your gran?"
"Back at St. Mungo's. The dark magic wound is tricky to heal. It shouldn't be much longer before recovery."
She understood that.
They both glanced down the table at the Weasley family, laughing and having a good time without her. She never envisioned her graduation to be this way.
"It won't last," he said quietly. "We'll all come back together."
"I'm not sure of anything anymore."
"I am. I'm also certain you'll rule the world someday." He gave a little laugh lifting a spoon full of mashed potatoes. "Though the thought of you in a position of power is slightly terrifying. When the time comes, please have mercy on me."
"As long as you're standing beside me," she teased.
"Where else would I be?"
Hermione
She snuck into the Slytherin dorm, dismantling his wards—which was easy with the link still in place. The invisibility cloak slipped off her shoulders before she sat in his chair, refusing to even look at the bed. Her eyes remained affixed to the fire, which had died down to embers.
He wished to meet at the whomping willow, but Hermione couldn't bring herself to walk there again. Not after what happened last time. Besides, in this place, she held the upper hand, the element of surprise.
The door creaked open. Draco appeared with Blaise by his side. Both reeled back in shock. Blaise put his hand on his friend's shoulder, giving one squeeze.
"I'll leave you here mate," he said, looking more serious than she'd ever seen him. No glitter confetti this time. Not even a smile.
Draco nodded in a stunned way while stepping in and shutting the door behind him. He threw a silencing spell on the doorway for good measure.
"I thought we were to meet tonight?" His mouth pulled into a frown as he sat on his bed, and his eyes darkened with the shadows, playing off the giant bruises under his eyes. A person would have to be blind not to notice he looked distressed. Hermione wondered what she looked like. Could people read her emotions in the frown lines, in the posture of her shoulders?
"I was sick of waiting, and I'm rather done with surprises."
The room choked with the ensuing silence. Neither of them said a word, just filled the air with panting breaths that grew quicker with the seconds.
"What do you want from me?" Draco asked.
"I think I made it clear I want nothing."
Draco winced, as if she just stabbed him.
"My responsibilities are not something I can easily get out of," Draco started. "Money is not the issue, though you think it is. I believe I could live without money if I tried. Not that I'd like it." He grimaced as if even the thought was abhorrent.
"I hold no illusions. Your biggest obstacle is my blood status. I'm only a mudblood right?" The word hissed past her lips. "Only useful in your world as a mistress or a whore."
She'd heard mudblood so many times in her life, had it cut into her skin, but saying it herself gave her a thrill of power. As if she stole back the slur and crushed it, so it could no longer hurt her.
Draco sneered, face alive with fury.
"You think I care you're a muggleborn?" Draco sneered, face alive with fury. "I haven't for a while now. I admit I started out with a less than stellar viewpoint, and I can't say I'm thrilled with muggles, but…" He tilted his head, staring at her intently. "Anyone with half a brain can see magic falls from you like rain, and there are many other powerful muggleborns across the world. How could you diminish magic when the result of muggleborn and pureblood unions often produce powerful wizards? Even the Dark Lor—" He sucked in a breath and corrected himself. "Voldemort was a half blood. Did his muggle father suppress his magic? It's a foolish concept the more I think on it. I'm second in the rankings. Do you think I'd ever lose to someone I believed unworthy?"
She hated his words filled her with something unnamable. Something she'd been searching for the whole time. It made it harder to do what needed to be done.
"Then what's the problem? If it's not money or my blood status?"
"My father." The words fell like a hammer. "The marriage contract is legally binding, and he won't let me out."
She'd grant him that fear. Hermione doubted his father would let his son run off with a muggleborn. He'd grind Draco down in horrid ways until he fulfilled his duty. Draco was a prince in his world, bound by tight rules.
While she hated he asked her to be a mistress, she also understood he probably felt he had nothing left to offer. A last desperate throw to keep her in his life.
The past few weeks she'd studied pureblood marriages, out of curiosity. Most were arranged while toddlers. It could be revoked, but only with a substantial sum, or if either one was found to be barren. Draco and Astoria's engagement was ironclad in a legal way, and she doubted he could drop it for her without significant punishment.
Anger still ate her, but with understanding, came grief.
"It seems we are a tragedy."
"Granger," he scoffed, eyes sparking with brief life. "We aren't a tragedy yet. If you let me, I'd hand you the world. Ask anything, and I'll give it to you, if you'll just give me a chance. You could spend your days saving werewolves or house elves or even the fucking centaurs. I'd make sure nothing got in your way. I don't wish to limit you. Actually, I plan to give you the opportunities you deserve, in a way no one else will." He paused a second. "You want to travel? We can go to Fiji or Rome or… Name it, Granger, and it's yours. I just—I can't lose you. Since Beltane, I've been unable to eat. Unable to sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I dream of you. I think I lo—"
"Don't say it!"
Hermione couldn't stand to hear him say the words, afraid of the wound it would leave. Because she feared she felt the same.
She'd never heard him speak like this before. Raw and open, spilling out in front of her. A perverse part of her wanted to comfort him.
Hermione's fingers tightened on the edge of the desk beside her. The rough wood gave her a sense of space and time. What he offered both repulsed her and sent a dark shot of longing through her, because everything he offered was what she wanted, just in the wrong way.
"And if I wanted children?" She snapped back.
Hermione didn't know if she even wanted children. It was always a someday, after she'd accomplished everything she wanted in her career, after a quaint wedding with the man she loved.
Draco hesitated. She noticed he gripped the edge of the bed as hard as she did the desk until his knuckles turned white.
"Anything but that," he said in a quiet, pained voice. "Please Hermione, don't do this. We belong together."
"Together? You're going to be bloody married!"
"It doesn't matter!" He flung his arm out with a yell. "She's not marrying me for love. In fact, she hates me. She can have her own wizard too and live on some remote island. All that is required between us is a single heir. And even that is not an issue, since Blaise told me there are several muggle ways we could conceive without sharing a bed. We wouldn't even live together."
"And just where else would you live besides in your manor?"
"With you, of course."
Hope radiated off Draco, and she had to look away from it.
"You honestly think I'd be satisfied with living only half a life? I'd lose my own love story… the one I had as a little girl with a wedding and a happily ever after. No," Hermione shook her head firmly. "You can't offer me anything I'd ever want."
"And what about what I want?" Draco stood up and grabbed the fabric of his shirt on his chest. "Does that matter? I'm being forced into a marriage with someone I can't stand. Forgive me for wanting someone for myself. Sorry it doesn't line up with your perfect idea of life. It's the only thing I can offer you right now."
Hermione had multiple choice words, but everything felt too jumbled in her head to respond in an intelligent fashion.
"You're insane."
He flattened his fingers on his chest and then he sat back down slowly, giving her a look bordering on pity.
"What other prospects would you have?"
"Prospects?" She spat, more confidently than she felt. "I can do anything I want."
He sighed and finally broke her stare, glancing into the shadows created by the dying flames.
"Haven't you listened to me at all?" He asked gently. Too gently. "I'm not intending to be cruel, but honest. The world isn't changing, Granger, and it will only get worse. There's been too much trauma, and there's an economy that's bleeding. My father won't go to Azkaban. The need for his money is too acute. And once he's free, he won't fade into obscurity either. He's been too long in power to let go of it. Attempting to help in this trial is not only a fool's errand, but dangerous, and I beg you not to attempt it.
"Dangerous? Do you know who you're speaking to?" Hermione let go of the desk. "When has danger ever stopped me? Your father will have a fair and balanced trial if it takes everything I have. And when he's found guilty and placed in a damp, dark cell in Azkaban, I'll be the first one to smile through the bars, so he understands who exactly put him there."
Draco's jaw clenched, and he narrowed his eyes.
"You won't. The Wizengamot is already bought, and the ministry left all his old positions open."
"They wouldn't. Dumbledore and Harry—"
"Harry's dead!" Draco shouted, and it caused Hermione to suck in a breath. "If he'd been alive, the ministry would bend over to get fucked if he asked it of them. Mostly because they would've been afraid of him and everyone that followed him, especially with the last name of Potter to back him up. Someone that defeated the greatest dark wizard of our time is not someone to go up against. But he's dead, and no one follows you. Without him, you won't fare well in this world without someone with the right connections. It's a giant chessboard, and you can't move anywhere without being taken off."
"You're wrong. I have the whole of Dumbledore's Army and The Order. And what about Shacklebolt? I doubt the minister of magic would let the whole community back pedal into what it was?"
She said it so confidently, but neither she nor Draco really believed it. She had Charlie, Ginny, Luna, and Neville. Maybe Ron if it came down to it. Beyond that, she wasn't sure she could trust anyone. At least not against a crusade against the most powerful members of their society.
"Shaklebolt's resigning within the year. He's tired. They fought to end a madman, not to empower muggleborns. You're delusional if you think the ministry has any love for you. With Potter and Dumbledore dead, it will be a less inviting world. They'll stomach you for what you've done, but memories are short, and they'll soon forget."
Merlin, it hurt. She knew this about the world. Understood it in her bones. They despised the flicker of magic that originated outside their carefully concealed world. Yet, it never failed to hurt to hear it.
"That may all be true," Hermione snarled. "Every single word could come to pass. I may only be able to get a job in Fortescue's. The world could spin in the exact rotation you've predicted. Yet, I'd still become Cormac McLaggen's whore before I'd let you touch me again."
"Then why are you in my room?" His voice turned cold. "If you don't want anything from me, then why the fuck are you here?"
"I only came here to undo the Anima Vinculum spell." She twisted her wrist and he flung backward, sticking to the mattress. Draco didn't attempt to struggle against her magic.
"You can't undo it."
"There are still a few secrets I've kept from you."
Hours spent scouring the text of the grimoire, attempting to translate it into modern language. Despite the translation spell, many of the pages were unreadable because of outdated concepts, words, and ingredients, and she slogged through them. Still, there were kernels of knowledge she absorbed, including the reversal spell.
She hadn't touched it since the memory ghost, but still she knew enough to complete the task.
Her magic touched the golden threads trailing it like a scraping a finger against spider silk all the way to the connecters on her chest. Hermione reached up and mumbled the reversing spell under her breath. Instead of detangling, the magic snapped against it, and Hermione recoiled in pain, grasping her chest.
"Bloody hell!" Draco shouted.
The magic she used to hold him down, vanished.
"Why can't I do it?" She backed away, getting close to the fireplace. "There's no way I got it wrong."
The edge of Draco's lips quirked upward, in an expression frostier than usual, reminding her of how he used to sneer at her.
He sat up and then stood. The magic still vibrated between them, giving periodic twinges of pain.
"Blood magic, love."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"When you were in dying in Romania, we ritually exchanged blood, drinking it so we could share magic under the vinculum spell. It bolstered the spell on us, allowing us to transfer energy. But with acceptance of my blood comes ancient consequences. Namely, the power of severance of the bond transferred to me… among other things you'll know when you're not so on edge."
Hermione lowered her wrist to her chest and cradled it as she trembled.
"So you're saying—"
"I'm saying in the magical sense, I own you. I could make you do whatever I wish, and you couldn't say no." He paused, viewing her horrified face. "Though I promise never to order you around with it. You'll have your free will. However, the decision to end this, whatever you wish to call it, is up to me. And I refuse to let you go yet. Not until you are willing to discuss terms for removal."
"Terms?" Hermione felt whiplashed. She entered his dorm believing she had the upper hand. But she should have realized a Slytherin was always ready for these games.
"Two of them."
She hesitated, gritting her teeth.
"I'm listening."
"One year living with me. There're no hidden strings. We don't need to share a bed unless you wish. I just desire the proximity. If, by the end, you want to leave, you can walk out the door free forever from me, link removed."
"And the second?"
This time he hesitated, as if whatever he asked was more precarious than the first.
"You need to give up your participation in my father's trial."
Hermione lashed out, slamming her magic into the link. It snapped painfully, as if hitting against her own skin hard enough to bruise and bleed.
"Undo it," she screamed.
Draco grit his teeth.
"Undo it," she screamed again, slamming so hard it ripped a small tear in the magic, which cracked a single stand. They both cried out. Draco fell to his knees, tears springing to his eyes. They panted for a moment, attempting to breathe through the pain.
"Stop," Draco said. "A forceful removal could kill us both."
"I don't care."
But she didn't attempt to sever anymore. In the end, she wasn't a masochist. She wanted the link gone, but not at the expense of her life and not with the amount of pain it would require.
Hermione gathered her remaining strength.
"In case you're in doubt." Hermione heaved in a strained breath. "I refuse both your terms. I'll find a way to sever the bond and place your father in Azkaban, where he deserves to decay."
She walked toward the door, but while she opened it, Draco spoke at her back.
"You'll never see my father convicted of crimes." His words sounded like a warning, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. "Because a guilty verdict requires evidence, and you don't have any."
"What do you mean?"
"I'm sure you already suspect. I'm sure you've always known. A Gryffindor should never play games with a Slytherin because there's always a loophole."
An urgency built in her breast, under her ribs, as a realization dawned.
"Remember," Draco added softly, face morphing into one that looked like regret. "Whatever you hear, it was before I loved you."
Hermione froze. Her world stopped and started. She hadn't been able to stop him this time. He slipped it in like a bomb.
Love? Thrown so casually into a sentence, as if he said it every day. As if he meant it. Her stomach dropped, something warm curling around her heart, despite her need to kill it. They both studied each other. Was he her lover or her adversary? Somehow, it was both.
Hermione didn't bother responding and shut the door, but his words followed her.
You don't have any.
