Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling, and make no money from the writing of this fanfiction. All of the characters belong to JK Rowling; only this particular story line is mine
Trigger Warning: This chapter will contain a scene of Domestic Violence. Please read with caution
Chapter Nineteen
"Malfoy, I think I might know that handwriting. I don't know why this person would be doing this, however."
"What do you mean? You think you know who is doing this?"
"I said I might know the handwriting, not that I knew who is blackmailing you. There are spells to mimic someone else's handwriting, you know. Professor McGonagall taught me a spell to mimic her handwriting when I helped her grade papers one evening. But it's not a spell everyone would be aware of; much less know how to do."
"Okay, Granger, so keeping in mind the person whose handwriting this looks like to you may not be the person who actually wrote the letter, whose handwriting does it resemble? And before you answer that, I'd like your theory of why this person would be blackmailing me if the person whose handwriting it is did write the letters."
"My theory of why you're being blackmailed is money. If it is the person I think it is, growing up, their family was comfortable, but not 'Malfoy level' wealthy. But since, to a degree, everyone who is a Pureblood is related in one way or another, this person might be doing this because the, to try to put it delicately, level of monetary comfort isn't what they're accustomed to, and might feel as if part of your fortune should be theirs simply due to a remote familial relationship."
"Okay, that sounds plausible so far. So whose handwriting does it look like to you? And is this person capable of doing something like this in your opinion?"
"I hate to say it, but the handwriting looks like Molly's."
"Molly? Molly who? Wait, you mean the Weasel's mother? The woman who basically killed Bellatrix by causing her to explode somehow during the Final Battle? But as far as I know, she isn't related to the Malfoys."
"Maybe Molly herself isn't related to the Malfoys, but what about her husband Arthur? Isn't he a distant cousin of your mother Narcissa? That might be enough of a connection for justification in the mind of the blackmailer."
"It's something that can be checked into, at least. I'll pass the information along to the person I hired to look into this for me when I got the first letter."
Nodding, Hermione crossed the room to hang up her traveling cloak. She vaguely noted Draco walking over to the Wizarding wireless and turning it on. When she heard the song that was playing, however, her current surroundings fell away, and she fell into another of her memories of her treatment by Ron.
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"My dress for the New Year's Ball at the Ministry just arrived Ronald. Have you been able to get your dress robes yet? If not, if you give me your measurements, I can take care of it for you."
"What was wrong with the dress I brought home for you last week? I looked everywhere for that dress for you."
"There was nothing wrong with it, Ronald. I just needed to get it tailored to fit me properly."
"So let me see it on you, so I can see how it looks now. I don't want you looking like some Knockturn Alley slag."
Hermione went into the bedroom and put on the dress. She really liked the way it fit. Just slightly off the shoulders in three quarter length sleeves, hugging her torso to emphasize her small waist, and flowing into a bell like skirt that ended at the tops of her shoes. She spun slightly before going into the living room.
"Well, Ron? How do I look?" Smiling, she spun again so he could see the whole dress.
"Why does it come off your shoulders now? And another thing, why the fuck is it so tight around your middle? Are you trying to look like a slag? Merlin, Hermione, every bloke there is going to be looking at your chest and arse, the way it fits now. Is THAT what you want? Are you hoping to maybe snag someone with more money than I have? When I chose that dress for you, it covered your shoulders, and was loose on top. I wanted it to fit you that way for a REASON. The ONLY bloke allowed to see the shape of your body CLEARLY is me. Fuck, I'm surprised you didn't have whoever did that shorten it so any time you sat down every person in the room could see up your skirt."
"This dress is perfectly acceptable, Ronald. It fits me the same way the gown I wore to the Yule Ball in fourth year did in the bodice."
Striding over, Ron grabbed the dress, pulling down hard. Her eyes went wide as Hermione heard the fabric rip and looked down. Where the dress had been modestly off her shoulders, and a demure sweetheart neckline, was now hanging down near her waist from a ragged tear. She swallowed hard as tears filled her eyes.
"You'll wear what I ALLOW you to wear, and HOW I tell you to wear it from now on. DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME? You are MY witch, MY property, and NO other man will ever want you the way you usually dress and look."
Hermione pulled out her wand, intending to cast a quick Reparo, when Ron shoved her against the wall, causing her to drop her wand with the impact. Holding her against the wall with one arm, he used his other hand to systematically tear the rest of the dress to shreds before pulling his arm back and punching Hermione in the stomach. She doubled over in shock and pain, unable to breathe.
"Remember, Hermione…you'll do WHAT I say, and WHEN I say to do it from now on, or I swear by Merlin, they'll never find your body."
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"Granger? Hey, Granger, are you okay? You're shaking like a leaf right now."
With a final small shudder, Hermione came out of her memory of the previous year's New Year's incident, and raised a tear-stained face to Draco.
"He- he…" she stammered.
"Granger, take a breath. I swear by Merlin nobody is going to hurt you while I'm here. We may not have gotten along in school, but I would never allow a woman to be hurt on my watch."
"Ron…"
"What about the King of the Weasels?"
"He threatened to kill me, or more accurately, told me that no one would find my body if I didn't do what he told me, when he told me to do it."
"Was this in one of the reports Madam Bones couldn't find during the hearing?"
"It was. I reported it to the Aurors within an hour, while Ronald had gone to the Leaky Cauldron to get drunk."
Walking over to the Floo, Draco tossed in some powder, and when the flames turned green, stuck his head in.
"Ministry of Magic, Office of Director Amelia Bones."
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Amelia Bones was at her desk, the woefully thin file about the case against Ronald Weasley on the desk in front of her, when her Floo chimed, indicating a call coming through. She took a pinch of powder and tossed it in, kneeling before the green flames.
"This is Director Bones, what can I do for you?"
"Director Bones, this is Draco Malfoy. Ms. Granger has just had a minor panic attack triggered by a memory of something Ronald Weasley did. She says she reported it to the Aurors within an hour of it happening. Do you think you can come through to make sure the incident she remembered is in your file?"
"Mr. Malfoy, I'll be right there. Please leave the connection open."
"Thank you, Director. I'll see you in a moment."
Amelia grabbed her satchel and the file, and then let her secretary know she'd be out of the office for a while. Taking a calming breath, she stepped into the Floo, coming out on the other side in front of Draco Malfoy, and an obviously upset Hermione Granger.
