It had to be a joke. Some sick and twisted joke. Hermione stared at him, waiting for the Malfoy smirk to curl onto his lips. For his eyes to narrow and darken. For the cruel laugh that would surely follow.
It did not come. Instead he looked at her with tender caution, his silver eyes soft and gentle. Even still, she would not believe it. It made her feel nauseous. Her brown eyes darted quickly to the letter opener on the floor between them. When she lunged for it, he raised his wand.
Chains flew out of his wand, encircling Hermione's wrists and pulling her back to the wall before she could even blink. The cold metal bruised her wrists. As Hermione cried out in surprise, she suddenly found herself gagged. Pulling the chains was useless, they were welded to the wall. Panic rose in her chest, angry tears brimming in her eyes, her stomach churning with fear. Was this it? Was his rouse for nothing? Where was Ron? Where was Harry? Were they safe?
When Malfoy came towards her, she kicked out at him. Her situation was dire, but she wasn't going down without a fight. Every fibre of her being burned like a roaring fire. She would not make this easy for him.
"Woah!" Malfoy jumped back; his pinched face worried. "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm sorry." His cheeks began to flush as he gabbled hurriedly. "Please, Hermione. I mean you no harm. Please let me explain. I can prove it to you." He swallowed nervously. "I'll remove the spell. Just, please, hear me out."
The fire quietened down. If they had been in this situation, Harry and Ron would have fought and screamed over Malfoy for as long as they could. But why would Malfoy continue to keep up this rouse? Hermione knew that knowledge was power. If you really wanted to defeat someone, you had to know all their cards.
Malfoy was still looking at her eagerly. This new side to him unnerved her. He looked like a child. When she nodded he breathed a sigh of relief.
The chains vanished as quickly as they'd arrived. The gag disappearing but leaving her mouth tender. Malfoy watched her warily, as if waiting for her to attack. When she merely surveyed him with her dark eyes, waiting for him to get on with it, he spoke quickly as if fearing being interrupted.
"Almost a week ago you sustained a head injury. You've been out since then. The Healers said that you'd make a full recovery but said there was a small chance you could lose some of your memories." He bit his lip. "I just never prepared for you to lose seven years of your life. Our life."
He looked so genuine. A different person from the Malfoy she knew. But Hermione wasn't the kind to be swayed by a pretty story. As he tried to smile at her, she kept her face impassive. His shoulders sagged a little at her reaction.
"Do you really remember nothing?" The sad look in his eyes was unfamiliar to her. "Do you remember anything at all?"
Her last memory. Voldemort was defeated. The three of them held on together as if they'd never let go, sagging in the relief that this was all finally over. A crushing weight that had been lifted. She remembered how warm they'd felt. She remembered feeling safe.
"Anything about me?" Malfoy's prompt interrupted her train of thought.
She allowed herself a brief scowl. "You were standing with your parents. You and your father looked worried. Your mother looked relieved." Hermione frowned. "Your mother saved Harry's life."
"Yes!" Malfoy said eagerly, taking a step towards her. His face briefly fell as she took a step away again. "Yes, Hermione. My mother saved his life. Potter testified in the trial she'd done this and the Ministry of Magic put us under house arrest instead of Azkaban." His grey eyes softened. "You helped rehabilitate me."
"The Order would never have allowed that." The words flew out of her mouth before she had the time to consider them. "I'm a muggleborn. Going into your home would have been dangerous. Besides," Hermione felt the scar on her arm burn. "I would never go back there."
Malfoy's eyes flickered to her arm where the scar could still be seen. "You decided to be brave." He said softly. "You're right. The Order didn't want you going. Potter in particular put up a fight about it. But you were determined. You wanted to fix us."
Hermione still wasn't prepared to let her guard down but holding it up felt exhausting. "You've still not given me any concrete proof, Malfoy." Her eyes narrowed. "Spinning me a fairytale isn't going to work. I deal with facts. You could always show me your memories."
"Do you have any idea how much a Pensieve costs, Hermione?" Malfoy ran a hand through his hair exasperated. "They're incredibly hard to come by."
"You're telling me the Malfoy's have never had a Pensieve?" She laughed. "With all the wealth of the Malfoy's? Your father has spent his life buying anything he likes and paying off anyone who might get too difficult."
"We did have a Pensieve." She could see the tension rising in him as he rocked on his feet. "We had to sell it."
"Well use that enormous fortune of yours to buy another and maybe I'll believe you."
"It's not that simple."
"Sounds perfectly simple to me. Just buy one. Or ask one of your wealthy friends to lend you theirs."
"I don't know anyone with a Pensieve."
"Then buy one."
"I can't."
"Why? I don't believe your mother was the sole reason you all got off from Azkaban. Money talks. Just use some of that money now."
"We don't have any left!" Malfoy shouted.
The news hung heavy in the air between them. The silence was deafening. Malfoy looked like he was ready to crumple in on himself, his breathing shallow as he stared at a spot on the floor in shame, unable to meet her eyes. She felt guilty for taunting him.
"Malfoy, I- I'm,"
"The Ministry took it all." Malfoy said hoarsely. "We had some of my mother's inheritance left to live on that she'd kept hidden away, but the Ministry took the entire Malfoy fortune. Not even a knut remains."
Carefully, Hermione took a small step towards him. However, she was still on her guard. "This is one of the grandest rooms I've ever been in." She said honestly. "Where are we? You can't be penniless if you live here."
"We're at Black Manor." Malfoy replied dully. "When my mother died it went it to me. I'm the last of the Blacks. My father is still at Malfoy Manor but it's in disrepair. He won't move out. He says he'll wait until the roof collapses on him. As for the furniture and other objects you'll see around the Manor, they're all fakes. Replicas of what was once true. The Dark Lord sold his followers possessions to raise money and replaced them with fakes. They're convincing, but they won't sell for any money."
A chill went through Hermione as she glanced back at the bed. She'd been asleep on that bed. A bed that Voldemort had conjured.
"Nothing in this manor can harm you." Malfoy said, as if reading her thoughts. "The Ministry confiscated anything dark long ago. And I would not allow anything in the house that would harm my wife."
"Can you read minds?"
"No." Malfoy said patiently. "I was taught to shield my mind from others but not to invade. Your thoughts were just clear on your face."
He did have a point. "I still need proof." Hermione changed the subject. "I want proof of our marriage. Proof of our relationship together."
Malfoy nodded. "Of course. I'll gather some things together; documents, photographs, letters. I'll be right back." He hesitated by the door. "Please stay here." He said quietly. "Please don't run from me again."
Hermione folded her arms and sat on the chaise lounge. Satisfied, Malfoy gave a shy smile and left.
The photograph of their wedding certainly looked convincing enough. She and Draco stood before who she presumed was the officiant. By Draco's side stood Goyle, Pike and Nott. On hers were three girls she did not know in gowns of ruby, clutching white roses as they beamed at her. Draco wore silver dress robes, his blonde hair swept back showing off a blush on his cheeks as he smiled at his wife. Hermione's brown curls cascaded down her back, the tamest she'd ever seen them, while small white flowers and diamonds embedded themselves in her hair. The modest white dress seemed medieval in style, something she had seen Sleeping Beauty wear in her muggle fairytale books, with long organza sleeves trailing down to the floor. The bodice had the same flowers and diamonds that adorned her hair.
But what captured Hermione's interests the most was the look on her face. She had never seen a look like this on her face before. The Hermione in the photograph was looking at Draco as if she was absolutely captivated by her. As if he were the only one in the world she could see. Hermione watched as her photographed self peeped up at her new husband with darkened eyes, so enraptured with love.
Clearing her throat, Hermine asked. "Who are these?"
Draco smiled. "The bridesmaids? One of them is my cousin, Aelfa. The others are your colleagues from work. Daeva and Lilith. They hope to see you soon, when you're well enough."
He'd avoided the real question. Where were her friends? Before she could ask, he thrust another photograph into her hands. The Hermione in this one was beaming as she sat at her desk, occasionally laughing at something someone said from behind the camera. It wasn't an office she recognised.
"After the Battle of Hogwarts you worked at the Ministry. You helped people come out of hiding and readjust their lives. You provided support for those who had been persecuted or lost loved ones."
"What did I do once everything had settled down?" She interrupted. "What career have I got?"
Draco looked nervous again, like a small child who has a surprise but isn't sure how his parent was going to take it. "After things had calmed down you took a job working in Muggle Relations. But after we married you decided you needed a break. You'd spent so long fighting and educating people, you just wanted to have a breather." He smiled shyly. "You went on maternity leave."
A warmth rushed to Hermione's heart that she hadn't expected. A glow that felt so overwhelming she thought she might cry. Her skin began to tingle, her breath caught in her chest.
"You – you mean?"
"Yes. There's a couple of children I'd like you to meet."