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 taking place after their graduation with events diverging from canon at the end of fourth year. What would change if Fudge had 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, except for the one in Harry simply because I'm not a fan of MacGuffins and the story is complicated enough without them :)

Prepare for dark-ish romance and unhealthy relationships.

This story features smut (not too graphic) and character death.

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. 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 as they twirled past Ron and his wife. Pansy was leading their dance while Ron 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, bent his upper body in an implied bow and then led her off the dance floor. Not towards her friends who were 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'd babysit her so Hermione couldn't bring shame to the Malfoy name. As if she ever had done anything to embarrass them. That was aside from the fact that she was a Mudblood wearing a wedding band around her ring finger, marking her as a Malfoy.

It wasn't even her fault that she was born a Mudblood. She also had never wanted to marry into a family that neither accepted her nor that she felt like calling 'family' in the first place. Yet, somehow, the Malfoys seemed to hold onto the notion that she had orchestrated all this. That, or she was in some other way at fault and needed to be watched over lest she brought any more misfortune onto their otherwise flawless family.

She worked up another of her smiles that she was nowadays forced to keep in stock 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.

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. Instead they treated 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. She didn't skimp on fake politeness, ignoring her backhanded insult to her inadequateness.

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. Draco moved his hand from the small of her back where his touch had burned through the silky fabric of her outrageously expensive dress. The men left, moving on to more important things than family drama and chit-chat.

Narcissa, meanwhile, dragged her along into dead-boring conversations. All the older pureblood witches cared about was nail polish that never peeled and Madame Parkinson's new hairdo which was a bit last-season.

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

The Malfoys' New Year's ball was going swimmingly.

At one point, Hermione managed to escape the clutches of Narcissa and found Harry at the buffet.

"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.

His gaze wandered across the crowd. "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."

"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, Harry." 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. 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 and take pride in our accomplishments of bringing the wizarding society closer together." She nodded towards a young couple which had been among the unfortunate souls forced into marriage. "Let us look forward to a bright future!"

A few "hear, hear"s sounded from a group standing by the not-so-small fountain with enchanted water that 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. Waiters stood at the doors, ready with champagne and warming spells to keep the guests comfortable.

Hermione decided it was time for a trip to the bathroom to save herself from the depressing countdown for yet another year spent with the Malfoys. After 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 an arm around her waist, steering her towards the rest of the crowd. 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 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, its handle ticking towards midnight.

She squinted and realised that the shimmering apparition was a choreography of dozens of pixies flying in formation. It was impressive, training them to do this performance. Hermione half-wondered if they had been Imperioused. She wouldn't put it past Narcissa.

She caught sight of Neville being dragged to the front by Tracy Davies, or rather Tracey Longbottom, when she felt Draco moving closer. He was standing against her back now.

Hermione stiffened, wishing she could step away, but knew that she would bump into the people around them. Dread settled in her stomach, as she noticed Lucius and Narcissa holding hands. Actually touching each other! She realised that others had found their partner as well. Hermione knew then that what was in store for her as soon as the elf clock over their heads read midnight was not going to be to her liking.

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. Draco turned her around to him and, ignoring her panicked look, cupped her cheek, capturing her chin with his thumb so she couldn't turn away. Then 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 gasped at them pain of having her toes crushed. Seizing the opportunity to make their kiss look more real to whoever might be watching, Draco slipped his hand 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. She dug her fingers into the fabric at the front of his elegant robes. As his tongue brushed along hers, she wasn't sure if she was still pushing him away or 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. Instead, he was gazing up as if watching the fireworks lighting the night sky. From up close it was clear that his eyes were glassy and Hermione realised that he was more drunk than he let on.

Slowly, it registered what had happened. Hermione felt shame settle low in her stomach and it made her feel ill. She lowered her head, pretending to take a sip from the champagne. She 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. She reminded herself that she would only need to endure another hour. Then she could go back to hiding in her bedroom like she had done during Christmas eve.

Straightening, Hermione turned, stepping out of Draco's embrace under the pretence of watching the fireworks. She caught sight of Narcissa who was watching them. Shame flooded back into her cheeks that heated up like a cauldron on dragon fire. Narcissa had watched them snog 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 to his mother and Narcissa returned the gesture. That was all Hermione needed to know that this whole charade was orchestrated by her mother-in-law to make them 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 even though it was right across the hall from Draco's. The house was majestic and spacious. But it held a charm in the flourishes in the moulding and the lavishness of the portrait frames hanging in the long halls. (Although the portraits — all Malfoy family members — wrinkled their noses in disgust 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's 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 previous 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.

"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. 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 her 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. The idea of him helping her undress made a hysteric laugh bubble at the back of her throat. She swallowed it 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?"

"I might have charmed it to stay on so you couldn't change into anything else last minute. That would have offend mother after she spent an entire afternoon shopping for it," he mumbled. For a moment he looked like Ronald admitting to having forgotten his potions homework.

Honestly, all boys were the same.

Hermione found herself in the unfortunate position of wanting to tear the dress to shreds while definitely not wanting to be naked in front of Draco.

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. For a moment she 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 it down her spine. 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 off-balance, unsure what to do with a drunken Draco. He had never smiled at her like that before. She wanted to tell him to stop. They didn't smile at each other without the purpose of parading their seemingly functioning relationship.

"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. She didn't bother 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 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 and his 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. He didn't budge. 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 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. All I wand is some sleep. I was generous enough to free you from that dress instead of waiting for you to come crawling to me for help. 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 trusted his dislike of her enough to leave her alone in private but he was drunk now. She was rather certain he bordered on insanity as well.

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 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, 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 x Hemlock x for helping out with the plot and giving me a writing boost these last few days :3