Ch 1: I take Thee

A/N:

This is my pre-New Year's resolution. I started working on this story back in 2019 and because the first chapter takes place on the 31st of December, I just had to upload it on this day :D

IMPORTANT INFO:
This is an AU with events diverging from the end of fourth year. What would change if Fudge never ignored the resurrection of Lord Voldemort? The story starts about a year and a half after the trio finished their NEWTs.

There are no Horcruxes in this story simply because I'm not a fan of MacGuffins and the story is complicated enough without them :) The Deathly Hallows are just a myth as well.

Prepare for dark-ish romance and unhealthy relationships.

Hermione felt his hand pressing into her lower back, heat radiating along her spine. His chest was nearly touching hers, her hand cradled in a perfect manner as he turned her around on the dancefloor, guiding her to follow him. The proximity was disconcerting, the warmth radiating from his body even more so. He should be cold like marble to compliment his blank face, his personality, their relationship.

She manufactured her face into a brilliant smile that she directed up at him as he dragged her along into yet another dance, not letting her go after just one sonata. It was an act of miming the perfect pair, dancing a perfect dance in perfect robes to represent their seemingly perfect life.

He acknowledged the smile she sent him with a small nod, accepting it as Hermione fulfilling her part of this charade.

Draco looked good in his formal robes, Hermione thought absentmindedly as they twirled past Ron and Pansy — the former looking completely out of place while Pansy was leading their dance. Ron just looked like he was enduring the greatest suffering mankind could imagine.

Arching a brow at her, Draco held her waist a little tighter to move her attention back to their little dance. It was a relief that he was handsome at least. She could have had worse. She could have been stuck with a bigot and an eyesore. No, her darling husband was perfect for this game of shadows and smoke.

He finally took a step back from her after the music had swelled up one last time, bending his upper body in an implied bow and then led her off the dance floor. Not towards her friends who were awkwardly huddling by the buffet, but into the direction of where his parents were standing.

Oh joy, Hermione thought.

She would be released into the care of Narcissa Malfoy who would babysit her so Hermione wouldn't bring shame to the Malfoy name. As if she ever had done anything to embarrass them publicly. That was aside from the fact that she was a Mudblood and had said 'yes', leading to the unpleasant situation of wearing a wedding band around her ring finger, its pale, grey stone marking her as a Malfoy to everyone who knew to interpret pureblood marriage symbols. It wasn't even her fault that she was born a Mudblood or had to marry into a family that neither accepted her nor that she felt like calling 'family' in the first place. But yet, somehow, the Malfoys seemed to hold onto the notion that she had orchestrated all this or was at least in some other way at fault and therefore needed to be watched over lest she brought any more miss fortune onto their otherwise flawless family.

She worked up another of her smiles that she was nowadays forced to keep in stock for these occasions like a package of wet wipes — single-use only, lest they turned bitter. This one was directed at her mother-in-law who looked pleased.

"Darling, your dress looks stunning, I didn't think you could pull it off, but look at how it brings out the best in you." Her eyes swept from Hermione's less than average decollete down to her too wide hips concealed under an excess of silvery fabric framing her quite nicely.

Lucius didn't address her at all, didn't even look at her. He hadn't so much as glimpsed at her since she had dared to marry his son. Not even a thinly veiled insult, of which he had an endless supply for anyone he considered inferior, had been directed at her. After all, it was hard to put a member of the family on the same level as Arthur Weasley.

Hermione sometimes doubted that Lucius remembered her first name. She equally doubted that Narcissa cared to remember, judging the pet names she decided to call Hermione instead. Maybe it was their method of avoiding to acknowledge her as a member of their family, and instead treating her more like a dog that was a little smelly and not quite house trained, but not enough trouble to get rid of it.

"Thank you, Narcissa, Draco helped me pick it," Hermione answered, not sparing with fake politeness and ignoring her backhanded insult to her inadequateness that apparently could only be hidden by the most expensive dresses.

Draco shrugged beside her. Actually, he had forced her to put it on, threatening to make all her clothes disappear and leave her to dress in pillowcases like the house-elves. It hadn't been a pretty conversation, although they hadn't shouted at each other. They never shouted.

"Draco, I want to introduce you to someone," Lucius drawled, and Draco finally moved his hand from the small of her back where it had already burned through the silky fabric of her outrageously expensive dress to leave a permanent imprint on her skin. The men left, moving on to more important things than family drama and chit-chat.

Narcissa, meanwhile, dragged her along into dead-boring conversations with the older pureblood witches about nail polish that never peeled and Madame Parkinson's new hairdo which was a bit last-season although she insisted that it was the latest fashion in France where she had spent the summer with her side of the family.

Hermione stood next to Pansy, who ignored her pointedly while shooting glares at Ronald who had found a companion in Neville, both getting tipsy on punch.

The Malfoy's New Year ball was going swimmingly.

At one point, Hermione managed to escape the clutches of Narcissa and found Harry hidden in the shadows of the grand staircase.

"Hi," she breathed and kissed him on the cheek. "Looking fancy."

He grinned sheepishly. "I hate the bow-tie, but Daph insisted."

"I get Yule Ball-flashbacks seeing you like this."

They shared a laugh.

"Great times," Harry commented. "Have you seen Sirius by the way?"

Hermione sighed and shook her head. "It doesn't matter that he was declared innocent, people will keep shunning him," she reminded him. "Also I don't see Narcissa reconnecting with her rehabilitated cousin at New Year's eve and getting over age-old grudges just like that."

"You could've invited him at least. It's not fair that he'll always be an outcast," Harry grumbled.

"You know I don't have a say in the guest lists. Or anywhere for all that matters. I'm sure he would have hated it here." She tried lightening his mood with champagne, but he remained rather taciturn after that.

It was close to midnight when Narcissa rang a little bell to get everyone's attention and the enchanted instruments stopped their slow waltz.

"Thank you for gathering here in our humble home for this year's conclusion, my wonderful guests. Let us greet the new year together with hope and look back at our accomplishments of bringing the wizarding society closer together with pride." She nodded towards a young couple which had been among the misfortune souls forced into marriage after graduating from Hogwarts. "Let us look forward to a bright future!"

A few "hear, hear"s sounded from the back where some older gentlemen stood by the not-so-small fountain from which enchanted water bubbled up in the shape of kelpies. "Now, we shall all gather outside so we don't miss the fireworks." Narcissa made a sweeping gesture towards the patio where waiters stood ready with champagne and warming spells to keep the guests comfortable.

Hermione felt it was time she made a trip to the bathroom to save herself from the depressing countdown for yet another year spent with the Malfoys. Excusing herself from Harry, she made it only halfway out of the ballroom when Draco appeared at her side and foiled her plans.

"Behave," was all he said before putting a hand around her waist and steering her towards where the rest of the crowd was heading. She hated that he touched her like this, that he touched her at all.

"I need to go to the bathroom," she said.

"No, you don't."

"I'll pee myself," she threatened in a whisper, and he had the audacity to look amused.

He nudged her through the wide-open terrace doors and fetched a glass for her that she accepted begrudgingly. Making a scene was nothing either of them desired.

People ooh-ed and ahh-ed when a large clock face appeared above their heads, a handle ticking towards midnight. She squinted and realised that the shimmering apparition was a choreography of dozens of pixies fluttering in formation to form the clock. It was impressive, training them to do this performance. Hermione half-wondered if they had been individually Imperioused. She wouldn't put it past Narcissa.

She caught sight of Neville being dragged further to the front by Tracy Davies, or rather Tracey Longbottom, when she felt Draco moving closer, standing against her back now and she briefly closed her eyes, wishing she could step away, but knowing that she would only bump into the people around them who crowded together.

Dread settled in her stomach, as she noticed Lucius and Narcissa holding hands. Actually touching each other! She noticed that others had found their partner as well, and Hermione knew, she just knew, that what was coming once the pixie-clock above their heads signalled midnight wasn't going to be something she enjoyed.

And so, condensation-wet glass in hand, she felt herself growing hot as the minutes ticked by. The murmur around her ceased before everyone started chanting the last seconds to midnight.

When they reached the count of one, a colourful explosion lit the sky. The fireworks scared the poor pixies shitless and they dispersed in all directions.

Hermione didn't have much time to marvel at the sight though as Draco turned her around to him and, ignoring her panicked look, cupped her cheek with his free hand, the thumb sneakily capturing her chin so she couldn't turn away as he pressed his lips to hers.

She stood still as a statue, paralyzed by the foreign sensation of Draco-sodding-Malfoy kissing her. He gave an impatient sigh and stepped on the tip of her shoe. She gave a small gasp of surprise from the flashing pain of having her toes crushed. Seizing the opportunity to make their kiss look like a real one to whoever might be watching, Draco let his hand slip along her neck and drew her closer.

Her whole body was tingling, like when she was on a broom, knowing that she could plummet to her death at any moment. Her fingers were digging into the fabric at the front of his elegant robes, and as his tongue boldly brushed along hers, she wasn't sure if she was still pushing him away or just holding on so she wouldn't falter. The faint taste of whiskey invaded her senses.

He pulled back, his fingers still tangled in the low bun at the nape of her neck that was now probably messier than Narcissa liked.

"Happy New Year," he murmured and clinked their glasses while Hermione still stared at him like an idiot. He tipped his head back and took a generous sip and then one more. His arm was still around her shoulders, holding her to his chest, but he didn't look at her anymore, gazing instead above the heads of the people around them as if watching the fireworks lighting the night sky. From up close it was clear that his gaze was glassy and Hermione realised that he was drunker than he let on.

Slowly, it registered what had just happened. Hermione felt a deep shame settle low in her stomach and suddenly she felt ill. She lowered her head, pretending to take a sip from the champagne and then kept her face hidden against his chest as if leaning into him as she was trying her best to collect herself.

She would not cry. She couldn't.

Breathing deeply, she finally found some balance, reminding herself that she would only need to endure an hour or so more of this and could then go back to hiding in her bedroom like she had done all of Christmas. Straightening, she turned, stepping out of Draco's embrace under the pretence of watching the fireworks. She caught sight of Narcissa who was watching them and the shame flooded back into her cheeks that heated up like a cauldron on dragon fire. Narcissa had just watched her snog her son whom she had dared to marry as if ignoring the fact that even a thousand New Year's kisses wouldn't bring luck to their relationship.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Draco nodding at his mother and Narcissa returned the gesture. That was all Hermione needed to know that this whole charade was once again something orchestrated by her mother-in-law to make sure their family was a shining example of perfection. Anger bubbled up beneath the shame and she desperately wanted to leave.

How dare they? They didn't treat her any differently than the poor pixies, trained like a Zouwu in a wizarding circus.

Hermione gritted her teeth and put on a brave front. No use overreacting now when she could channel her fury in more effective ways later.

Hermione managed to slip away shortly after the fireworks. She sighed with relief as she closed her bedroom door behind herself, shutting out all that she despised and that made her uncomfortable. She had to admit, she liked her room in Malfoy Manor although it was just across the hall from Draco's. The house was majestic and spacious but held a charm in the flourishes in the moulding and the lavishness of the portrait frames hanging in the long halls (although the portraits inside — all Malfoy family members — had constant disgust wrinkling their noses as if they smelled dung whenever Hermione walked past them).

She released her hair, massaging her skull where the braids at the side of her head had left her with a headache. "Beauty means suffering," Narcissa had said on the day of her wedding as she had charmed the corset around Hermione's waist to tighten further. Hermione had wished for nothing more than her mother or a friend by her side, even Lavender would have been welcome at that moment. But she had gotten Narcissa and her disapproving glares and a wedding gown like a straightjacket.

Hermione twisted her upper body to see the zipper of her dress in the mirror of her ivory-adorned closet. She tried to aim her wand at it to free herself from the wretched thing. This time, she would make sure to donate it so Draco wouldn't burn it like the one before. Another evening gown made to show her off like a dressed up barbie doll. When she had proclaimed that she could wear the beautiful blue dress again, Draco had wasted no time throwing it into the fireplace to make sure she couldn't.

Hermione cursed when she missed her aim and the zipper got stuck in the fabric that was bunched along the waist to flare out in a soft A-line.

Suddenly, the door swung open and Hermione jumped with a small squeal, pressing the front of the dress to her chest although she hadn't even managed to open it wide enough to fall.

"My dear wife running from the party and hiding in her bedroom," Draco commented as he spotted her. He waltzed into her room and dropped onto her bed heavily. His speech was a little bit slurred, just enough to be noticeable, but more than that, his dishevelled hair was an obvious sign of his drunken state. It wasn't Harry-Potter-disheveled, more like Bill-Weasley-nervously-running-his-hands-through-his-hair-as-he-flirted-with-her-at-the-Quidditch-world-cup-four-years-ago-disheveled.

"Excuse me?" she said, hoping that it was clear from her tone that he could get the fuck out of said room.

He ignored her and instead took a sip from a bottle of champagne. Skipping the fancy crystal glasses, now are we? she thought.

"Need help with that?" He waved at her, indicating her dress and just the idea of him helping her undress made a hysteric laugh bubble at the back of her throat that she had to swallow back down. One unhinged person was enough at the moment.

"You are drunk," she said, realising with a twinge of annoyance that that wasn't going to be enough to remove Draco from her room or even her bed. "What do you want?"

He looked at her as if gazing at a wide landscape, a pretty painting. "I made mother quite happy today, a perfect kiss for a perfect Malfoy marriage, although I conclude that I did the opposite with you."

Burning anger corroded her throat as she struggled to keep it under control. "What do you care?"

"It's tiresome fighting with you."

"We are not fighting."

He didn't object but remained seated on her bed. She wondered if he was too drunk to get up on his own. Tentatively, she took a step closer. "Do you need anything else?" she asked.

"Let me help you with that dress."

"I can help myself."

He pulled a face and she had a dreadful suspicion.

"What did you do?"

"Might have charmed it to stay on so you couldn't change it into anything else last minute and offend mother after she spent an entire afternoon shopping for it," he mumbled, looking for a moment like Ronald admitting to having forgotten his potions homework and asking to copy from her. Honestly, all boys were the same.

Hermione found herself in the unfortunate position of wanting to tear the dress to shreds just to make a point while definitely not wanting to be naked in front of Draco and also not wanting to waste a perfectly fine dress to a temper tantrum.

Deciding to be the adult one in the situation, she turned her back to him, making sure to keep an eye on Draco in the mirror. "Go ahead then, open it. I want to go to bed already."

He got up surprisingly swiftly, having more control over his body than any man that drunk should have.

"I'm sorry about the kiss," he said, his speech slurring more now. He drew his wand and for a moment she was worried he would mess up and hurt her, but then she felt the zipper give as he pulled it down. His fingers followed the path of the opener down her spine and the hairs of her neck rose as she felt his knuckles brush against her bare skin.

"You're drunk," she said again, as if that was an excuse for his uncharacteristic openness with her. Holding onto her dress so it didn't slide down, she turned back to him.

"Not as drunk as I should be if you ask me." He gave her a lopsided smile and Hermione felt slightly off-balance, unsure what to do with a drunken Draco standing far too close to her. He had never smiled at her like that before. She desperately wanted to tell him to stop, that they didn't smile at each other without the clear purpose of parading their seemingly functioning relationship, but she felt pathetic.

"Go to sleep, Draco," she said instead and summoned her pyjamas — the ones Narcissa hadn't managed to take from her like all her Muggle jeans — before disappearing into the adjacent bathroom.

After a quick shower and undoing the glamours she had cast on her face to meet Narcissa's standards, Hermione returned to her room, not bothering to switch on the light as she made her way to where she knew the large bed was. She loved that bed but was too proud to admit it. It was perfect for reading in it all Sunday afternoon.

She crawled under the covers, only to be met with an obstacle. An undignified little squeak escaped her and in her scare, she managed to summon a bit of wandless magic. "Lumos."

The pulsing light floating from her fingers revealed her darling husband sprawled on her bed like the king himself.

"What are you doing, get the fuck out of my bed, Draco," she hissed.

He grumbled and turned over enough to make room for her, but didn't leave the bed or even open his eyes. He was still wearing his robes, just the shoes lay discarded at the foot of her bed.

She pursed her lips in annoyance. Pushing his shoulder, the only part of him that she was brave enough to touch, she tried to shove him off, but he didn't budge much. Bracing her hands on the mattress, she pulled her feet up against his back, pissed to no end and pushed with all her might. "Get. The fuck. Out of. My bed."

He grunted and turned around faster than she could move back. One of his hands caught her ankle and he pulled her down so she plopped onto the soft mattress. Before Hermione could push up again, he loomed above her, holding her down by the shoulders. "Listen, Granger," he said, his voice just a little clearer than before.

It's Malfoy now, she wanted to correct him but pressed her lips shut.

"Blaise decided to hijack my bedroom to fuck his Ministry-approved wife and make little Ministry-approved babies and I want some sleep so I was generous enough to free you from that dress instead of waiting for you to come crawling to me to help you. Show some gratitude and let your husband sleep in your damn bed."

He was drunk. Hermione looked up at him with wide eyes. Then she tried to wriggle free, but he held her in place.

"Don't touch me," she breathed, all vigour knocked out of her as a creeping terror overcame her. Draco was strong, much stronger than her physically, and her wand was in the bathroom, far out of reach. He could do anything to her if he wanted. She usually trusted his dislike of her enough to leave her alone in private, but he was drunk now and she was rather certain he bordered on insanity at the moment.

To her surprise, he let go and turned his back to her. "I'll stay on my side of the bed," he grumbled and then he was asleep.

He didn't stay on his side of the bed.

Here's a little teaser for the next Chapter:

"There are more important things to spend money on than dresses and trinkets."
He smiled thinly. "Oh, but I do love seeing my dear wife aggravated over all those pretty, useless things I shower her with."

This story aired a little premature, because I couldn't wait another year to post the first chapter, and any other date would just not feel right with a beginning like this :D

I'm still working out minor plot points in later chapters and I have an ending in mind, but it's not written. As some of you might know, I prefer posting stories that I already finished more or less, so I will tackle that in 2021 and once I feel confident about the progress, I'll upload regularly like I usually do.

Let me know if you like my new project! Shamefully begging for reviews here because I need a little push to get back into writing :D Also I need a good excuse to procrastinate on my uni work because, obviously, finishing this story is so much more important!

Big thanks to Noori for beta reading like a maniac and Hemlock for helping out with the plot and giving me a mega writing boost these last few days :3