a/n: Thank you to each one of you for bearing with my angst- and all the non-Romione bits in this story. I can't wait to hear what you think of this chapter, you'll know why by the time you finish reading it. Sending love your way- special mention to Clinio- thank you for all the love you send my way with your reviews 3

Ch:26: Checkmated

"Waiting for your son?"

Jane winced slightly as the elderly nurse, Mary, adjusted the intravenous drip on her arm. "Yes," she smiled and turned automatically towards the wall clock ahead.

"We often speak about it," Mary provided, as she finished adjusting the drip stand. She picked up the sphygmomanometer and approached Jane's bed from the left. "You know, how your children hardly miss a day to visit you; especially your son."

Jane waited as Mary adjusted the cuff on her arm. "He is not my son… not legally at least," she admitted slowly, unable to hide the longing. Ron had done more than a son could have in the past few days. Mary paused abruptly, looking up at her in surprise and Jane chuckled at the reaction. "He is as good as one, isn't he? He's my daughter's childhood best friend and -" she looked at Mary, and the other woman smiled in understanding, "-hopefully my future-son-in-law?" Jane mused aloud, embarrassed.

Mary chuckled quietly, concentrated on checking her blood pressure and noting it down duly before she replied. "Can't deny, a fair few hearts will be broken around here."

Both ladies laughed as Mary opened the medicine cabinet to pull out a number of medicine strips. "He should be here anytime soon," she observed, handing Jane a glass of water and a couple of capsules.

Barely a few minutes later, there was a soft knock on the door and Ron walked it.

"Hi, Mary."

"There you are, Ron! We were just talking about you!" Mary greeted him while she arranged Jane's reports. Ron walked ahead and gave Jane a one-armed hug.

"How're you feeling?" he asked, as Jane patted him lovingly on the cheek.

"Better," she replied, "They are hopeful about the new treatment."

"That's brilliant news!" he replied and looked away quickly when Jane continued to watch him, concerned.

"You look tired," she observed.

"Work," he provided, chuckling a little as he shrugged.

"How is the Training Academy?" she asked and patted the side of the bed and Ron took the proffered place.

"It's great actually," he admitted, glancing to ensure Mary had left. "The usual wizard bunch is flabbergasted to know how advanced the Muggles even without magic!" They laughed together, Ron feeling the rare sense of calm that accompanied these morning meetings with Jane. "I got something for you," he told her as he pulled out a package covered in brown paper from inside his jacket. "Sorry, didn't get time to wrap it properly," he added sheepishly.

Jane tore off the cover carefully, reminding him inexplicably of Hermione, but he forced himself not to dwell on it as he watched Jane unwrap the books.

"Jane Austin and Jules Verne?" she asked, surprised.

"Not really," he told her as he flipped the books open and their actual covers appeared.

"Hogwarts A History and what's this? Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them!" Jane chuckled. "We got these for Hermione, didn't we?" she added fondly.

"Have you read them already?" he asked and she shook her head as she looked up.

"No, never had the time. Hermione literally carried her copy of Hogwarts a History everywhere she went," she replied, smiling as she flipped the book open lovingly. "Thank you," she sighed and wiped the corner of her eyes. "How's she? Still overworking herself?" she asked.

Ron nodded a little, "Yes. She's very worried about you."

"She's still not talking to you, is she?" Jane observed quietly and Ron exhaled, knowing well that Jane would see through his lies if he tried.

"No she isn't," he admitted to her. "But you don't need to worry about that. I promised you, I'll make sure she is happy- don't plan to go back on my words."

Jane looked away, ran her fingers over the crisp book covers and seemed to be lost in thoughts. It was a while before she spoke. "She never speaks about you, Ron. But I know my daughter. Give her some time. I know she still loves you."

He looked away quickly, not willing to show Jane the hurt, certain that she'd see through the mask anyway. "Don't mind giving her all the time she needs," he added quietly.

Jane patted him on the arm lovingly, "It'll all be fine, mark my words."

…

The Grangers' living room was a far cry from his ancestral home. It was bright, airy and emitted warmth- something the Malfoy Manor with its ancient Pureblood decore, dark drapes and the centuries worth of evil could never provide.

Draco sat consciously, occupying the comfortable couch while the Weasley Seniors and Hermione's dad sat around him. Potter sat beside him in the other single-seater, but the position wasn't for support.

He had been welcomed- so to speak- by Molly Weasley. She had given him a strained smile, polite and formal but hardly hiding her discomfort.

She offered him tea, which he politely refused. The two senior men were not as courteous, not even as a formality, especially Hermione's dad who wore a clear look of displeasure. Draco wasn't even sure what to make of Arthur Weasley's stoic form. So far, he had only managed to greet them before they all sat in awkward and a stifling silence. Upon being introduced formally, he had wondered whether to shake hands with the men or a polite nod would suffice. He had gone in for the latter; his palms were sweaty, nerves jittery.

"Harry mentioned, you wish to speak to us," inquired Arthur Weasley at last, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

"Yes, Sir, I did," he replied.

He had neither expected a warm welcome nor an instant bonding but the meeting was going far worse than he had imagined. There was no hiding the fact that the men thought very poorly of him- and for good reason too. He exhaled and licked his dry lips, gathering his courage. This wasn't supposed to be easy and he deserved it. But more importantly, he needed to do this for Hermione's sake as well as for his own.

"I'm -I'm sorry-" he exhaled, looking intently at his hands before he forced himself to meet their eyes, "-for everything. I know none of you are happy about Hermione's decision and-" he sucked in a breath, "I am responsible for it."

He waited for them to say something, acknowledge his apology but no one spoke and he began again, realising quietly to himself that it was perhaps better this way.

"I am sorry for everything that I have said and done over the years to your families- to your children." He managed to look at Molly, "I'm sorry for getting your son maimed, sorry for almost …" he licked his lips, realising how hard it was to utter the words out loud but also how important, "-for almost killing Ronald." Molly sucked in a breath sharply and Draco lowered his gaze. "I am sorry for being a mere spectator while my Aunt tortured Hermione," he managed slowly. "I'm sorry for all the derogatory terms I used for your children and… you." He paused, unable to meet their gaze. "I wish I was taught better," he added in a quieter voice. He took a deep breath and thought about Hermione. "I don't deserve her," he began and realised that on some level, it was a relief to say it aloud. "I don't deserve your forgiveness either- I made those choices and I can't change my past. But -" he gathered enough courage to look up at each one of them in turn. "I love her," he addressed Molly for reasons he couldn't fathom. "And I am willing to do anything to prove it- please don't ask me to leave her. I can't do that." He halted and struggled to say the rest. It was a while before he managed to continue. "I know, by saying all this, I am probably digging my own grave but I had to come clean. I know you all feel that she deserves better and I agree. But I love her too much to just let her go. She has been my salvation, my reason to be a better person. I-" he halted again; he had never felt so vulnerable in recent years but he reminded himself that he had to go through it so he looked up, this time, addressing his words to Weasley Senior and Thomas Granger. "I request your permission to marry her. You all mean the world to her and she will never be happy if you cease to be a part of her life because of me. I do want to spend my life with her but I don't wish her to lose her family in the process." He gulped and faced Molly Weasley again. "I can't change my past but I promise you all, I'll give her a good, safe and happy future. I won't let any harm come her way."

He came to an abrupt halt, unable to say further and went back to staring at the coffee table in front of him before Arthur Weasley spoke up.

"Mr Malfoy, I won't lie to you. Neither of us are happy with her decision. We think she is rushing headfirst into a marriage she will regret. But yes, I am surprised by all that you have said, and I will have to commend you on taking the onus of your past actions. It is not easy to own up to one's mistakes."

Draco managed a weak smile and a small nod. He wasn't sure if he had managed to sway Thomas Granger in his favour by even a tiny amount but perhaps this was a start?

"As Tom just said, we are not happy with Hermione's decision," stated Arthur Weasley. "But I agree with him. It requires a lot of bravery to admit everything you have." He looked sideways at his wife and friend, "-and for that, I forgive you for all you did in your past. We are bot happy but no matter what she decides, she will always have her family with her. I do hope you realize how much responsibility you have to keep her safe from your own family if -" he exhaled, " -if she stays on her decision and goes ahead with the wedding."

He licked his dry lips, "I do, Sir," he admitted.

"Hermione was and will always be a part of our family." Draco looked up at Molly Weasley and for a moment there was a glimpse of the fiery witch who had killed his deranged Aunt- the Dark Lord's most trusted servant. "And we Weasleys know how to stand by our own. I hope you will be true to your words and not let any harm come her way."

"I won't, I promise," he replied quietly.

The conversation came to an abrupt halt and when Draco realised there was nothing more that he had to say, he politely requested their leave.

At least he had tried, he told himself as he walked out of the Granger home.

…

"I'm making some tea. Harry, help me," called Molly as she stood up and walked out of the living room with Harry following behind her. He had just shown her how to work the burner and set the kettle when Tom and Arthur joined them in the kitchen and grabbed chairs at the dining table.

A grim silence ensued and only after each one of them had a cup in front of them did Arthur speak up.

"I don't know how I feel about the whole thing," he admitted, exhaling tiredly as he removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Worried, yes, very worried."

"Did you find out who leaked about their relationship to Skeeter?" Molly asked Harry.

He placed his mug down without taking a sip. "No," he replied "Rita has been on our trail since forever. And it was obvious she'd play dirty now that she has the chance."

"What about the mails?" Molly inquired worriedly. "It was madness with so many letters coming down to the Burrow."

"There were a fair few nasty ones before we've diverted her owls to a small team that is scrutinising them for curses and jinxes," Harry provided, shaking his head and not caring to hide his displeasure.

"And it will only get worse!" snapped Tom, banging his cup down. "Why is she doing this, Arthur? Keeps claiming it's for Jane- but it isn't! It's just what Hermione thinks is the right thing to do!"

Arthur patted Tom on the shoulder kindly and Molly refilled his tea.

"But no matter what we say to her, we will have to stand by her decision, in the end, Tom," Arthur stated. "Hermione needs to know the family is always by her side- we can't stress out the poor girl more than she already is."

"Arthur is right." Molly turned at her son-in-law. "Ask her to meet me, Harry?"

Harry pulled out his wand and flicked, the stag burst out, bowed once and disappeared with a snap.

Tom nodded stiffly, sipped from his cup before sighing soundly. "And ask Ron to meet me, won't you?" Tom asked of Harry. "Let's try talking to the more sensible of the two," he exhaled.

"I will," Harry assured him.

"If Hermione would keep aside her stubbornness for even a moment, she'd realise what her mother really wants. Maybe she just doesn't want to see it," remarked Tom as he placed his cup down after draining all its contents. "He visits Jane almost every day- the staff at the hospital thinks he's our son," he added with a small, sad chuckle. "I know what Jane wants, Arthur. Ron knows it too."

…...

Draco felt a strange sense of doom as he glared at the parchment that lay on his table. The eagle owl that sat waiting at his windowsill was getting impatient. Clearly, it was instructed not to leave without a reply.

He had considered sending a response in the negative, but he knew he would have to face his father eventually; the sooner he got the undesirable task off his list, the better it would be for his sanity.

The letter hadn't really come as a surprise; he was expecting it since the day the article was published. In fact, it was a miracle Lucius had waited for a couple of days to summon him for an explanation.

The newspaper still lay on the table. The ring she wore on her finger- his ring- was pictured with the heading that speculated a relationship between her and Weasley. It made his blood boil.

Hermione hadn't released a public statement accepting or denying the article- he hadn't really expected her to. But the onslaught of hate mails she received was frightening. All because of Rita Skeeter's writeup that, surprisingly enough, was closer to the truth.

In the absence of a formal announcement or any action from Hermione herself, the Daily Prophet had gone all out- publishing pictures from the time after the war, pictures of the time when she was actually with Weasley. Rita wasn't behind. Her spicy articles ran stories of Draco and Hermione's careers, stories of them being 'friendly colleagues to something more'. But the tag remained the same- 'War Heroine' for her, 'Ex-Death Eater' for him.

That identity, he realised, wouldn't go away, no matter what he achieved, no matter how hard he tried.

He looked back on the letter from his mother again and grudgingly penned down a reply in positive, promising to visit them the next morning.

…...

The huge gates opened at his touch, giving rise to a chillness in his bones. The Manor no longer felt like home. The white albino peacocks, so favoured by his father, had long since died and the once majestic fountain lay dry and vacant. As the cobbled ground crunched under his shoes, he felt an alarming desire to flee, an uncanny premonition that something truly evil was making its way towards him with each step he took forward. Clutching his wand tightly, he strode up the stairs and knocked on the huge main door. Hardly a moment passed before they were opened by Shotkey, his mother's personal elf. She bowed low at him in greeting and indicated towards the parlour.

"Master and Mistress is waiting for you in the parlour, Master Draco," she said before hurrying away towards the kitchens.

He hastened his steps, eager to get over his visit. Right outside the parlour door, he paused and glanced down at his complete Muggle attire. He knew it was a juvenile sense of pleasure he was deriving at the glaring display of rebellion he was about to hit his father with- apart from the news of him marrying a muggle-born, and not just any muggle-born but the very symbol of the downfall of pureblood supremacy in the wizarding world, Hermione Granger herself.

He knocked on the parlour door out of habit and was pleasantly surprised when the door opened and his mother pulled him into a hug. She placed her palms on his face and looked at him, and in a rare display of emotion, a few tears trickled down her eyes. Draco couldn't help feeling a little guilty. Narcissa was paying the price for standing by her husband. He truly loved his mother and it was a pity he couldn't visit her more often.

"Draco," scorned the man who sat in a high chair near the fireplace. With repulsion so strong that almost caused bile to rush up his throat, Draco realized it to be the same chair that the vilest creature would once occupy.

"Father," he replied in a tone harsher than he had intended.

If he had any say in the matter, the chair along with every other article the Dark Lord had tainted would have gone up in flames. But it would have to include him as well, wouldn't it?

Draco inhaled deeply to get a grip on himself, followed his mother and took a seat.

"Shouldn't a son visit his ageing parents a little more frequently?" asked the older wizard. His face looked pale and unhealthy but the tongue was sharp and snappish as ever.

"I suppose I haven't been called for a lecture on manners. Can we please get to the point? I have other engagements," he retorted back in the same tone his fifteen-years-old self reserved for the Gryffindors.

"Manners, manners, my boy!" said the old man shaking his head. "Now I am afraid the papers might be true!" he spat. "Your pure birth and name should have taught you better but you've chosen to live in filth, haven't you?" he said, glaring at his Draco's attire.

Draco was up in a flash, his wand pointing at the weak man in front, anger blazing in his veins. "Don't you utter a word beyond that!" he bellowed. "I am still facing the consequences of my so-called 'pure' birth and everything you 'taught' me!" he huffed.

"Draco, son, please sit down!" urged his mother. Draco heaved, fighting to rein in his fury. He stood glaring at his father for a long time before he pocketed the wand.

"So it's true then," his father observed in a much-controlled voice and Draco's eyes snapped up at Lucius' ageing form.

"Yes," he announced proudly.

"You are engaged to Hermione Granger?!" his mother asked exasperated, her voice carrying a hint of fear and something else he couldn't pinpoint.

"I love her," he admitted his mother. "And I want to settle down with her," he added for good measure. "We are planning a wedding soon because her mother is keeping unwell and wishes to see Hermione wed."

He couldn't fathom what was wrong; his mother looked more and more anguished as he spoke. He turned at his father and was even more surprised. Lucius looked positively radiant. His cheeks showed more colour than even moments ago. And somehow those smiling grey eyes made him very fearful and wary.

"Congratulations!" beamed the old man as he sat up straight, grinning like a maniac. Draco couldn't shake the feeling of something ominous in that overenthusiastic smile.

"You are happy?!" he asked apprehensively.

"Of course I am! She's a war heroine! Will help bring the Malfoy name in good faith again!" he grinned.

"That is NOT why I am marrying her!" he scowled before turning away hurriedly. "Mother, I'll take your leave now," he told her softly, but it seemed she hadn't heard him at all; she was still looking at the floor, aghast.

"Mother?" he called again. "I'm leaving," he told her as she looked up at her son. "I'll see you soon," he promised. "I- I hope you will at least be present on our special day, won't you?" he asked hopefully but his mother continued to look at him strangely and after a while gave him a small, stiff nod.

Draco hadn't expected her to be elated at the idea of him getting married to a muggle-born, but he had expected she would understand for his sake. Her expressions, however, didn't leave much scope for hope.

He turned and left without even bothering to acknowledge his father.

…...

"Mum? How are you doing?" she asked over the phone. "Sorry, I couldn't come down today."

"I'm better, darling," her mother replied. "What happened? Is everything alright?"

It was deception, warned her heart. She shouldn't have called her mother on the hospital's number, behind her father's back. But she had to do it- her father would still insist she thought it over.

"Yes," she replied, glad that her mother couldn't see her. "I have something to tell you," she added, gathering all her courage. Her conscience begged her to stop, knowing she wouldn't be able to take this back.

"What is it, Hermione?" asked her mother, "You are making me worried, love! Are you alright?"

Hermione covered the mouthpiece with her fingers to avoid her muffled sob from being heard at the other end. Taking a few deep, steadying breaths, she spoke in what she hoped was a cheerful voice.

"Yes, great actually. Mum, I- I got engaged. I am planning to marry as soon as possible. I want you to see me walk down the aisle," she managed, unable to hold back her sob.

Even without being able to see her, Hermione could easily feel the joy that was emanating from the woman she loved so very much. There was a muffled sound of happy tears from the other end before Jane managed to speak. "You have no clue how happy I am today!"

"We'll meet you tomorrow evening," she added softly.

Jane chuckled softly on the other side. "Yes, of course, my dear! I'll be waiting."

After a lot of contemplation, Hermione had decided to take Draco to the hospital. It was just a precaution as she wasn't really sure how her mother would react. At the hospital, at least help would be at hand if- Merlin forbid- something went wrong. She shuddered at the thought. Her mother was a strong woman, quite in control of her emotions. Hermione hoped she would hear her daughter out at the very least.

After she hung up, Hermione absentmindedly adjusted the ring again. She had charmed it invisible whenever she had met her mother recently. The damage had been done by the photograph in the newspaper and for once, she was immensely glad that her parents had no contact with the magic world.

…...

The loud crack of Apparition in his home brought back the worst memories of the war-times.

Draco jumped off his bed and pulled out his wand, flicking on the bedside lamp.

"Shotkey!" he exclaimed as the old elf bowed low.

"Shotkey is sorry to trouble Master at sleeping times!" she croaked, "But Mistress asking Shotkey to bring Master at once."

"Mother asked you?" he inquired, getting more worried by the minute at the strange turn of events.

"Yes, Master,"

"Alright, get going. I'll be there in a minute," he told her, grabbing his jumper.

"No, Master! Mistress telling Shotkey to bring Master Draco by side along! Not telling the Senior Master!" she added a little fearfully.

He furrowed his brows in confusion. In all these years of staying away, never had his mother summoned him in such a strange manner. He grabbed and pulled on the jumper, and held on to the tiny frail hand before the uncomfortable feeling of being squeezed through a very narrow tunnel engulfed him.

He appeared a while later in an old room that he couldn't recollect seeing being used. His mother stood at the balcony overlooking the grounds. She turned around at the sound and met her son's eyes briefly before facing the elf.

"Shotkey, lock the door and cast a silencing spell. I don't want anyone to hear what I am going to tell Draco. Especially keep your Senior Master away. Although I doubt he'll find us here but just in case he does, do whatever you have to stop him."

"Yes, Mistress," croaked the elf, left the room, closing the doors behind her as ordered.

"What's all this, mother?" he asked, moving forward hurriedly to join her at the balcony.

The room, like most others, was doused in shadows. The fire burning in the grate did little to dispel both the darkness or the chill.

Narcissa looked calm and collected as always but there was something different in her eyes. She turned around gracefully and with a softness that did not usually grace her features she placed a hand on his cheek.

"Do you really love her, Draco?" she asked in a quiet voice.

He looked at her in confusion but decided to answer her anyway. "Yes. A lot, in fact."

"How much is 'a lot'?" she asked again.

"Mother, what-"

"Answer me, Draco. How much is 'a lot'?"

"Enough to die for her if need be," he replied honestly.

She looked up sadly at her son. "Enough to leave her for her sake and yours?" she asked him.

"Le-Leave?" he stuttered, gasping. "I- I can't!" he replied, panic and sense of doom rising fast.

"Do you know why your father was so ecstatic at the news of your engagement?" she asked him, and he shook his head slowly in the negative, a feeling deep in his bones telling him he'd rather not know. "Because you've given him a way to finish what Bellatrix started that day when Harry Potter and his friends were caught."

Rage- pure, unadulterated rage filled his heart. "HOW CAN HE EVEN THINK SOMETHING SO VILE!" he shrieked. "FATHER OR NOT, I'LL KILL HIM IF HE EVEN LAYS A FINGER ON HER!"

"He won't need to, Draco," said his mother in an odd, eerie voice. "You'll do it for him."

He looked at her in disgust and took a few steps back, struggling to find words.

"The day you marry her and she is bound to you by magic, she will be cursed, Draco-cursed to die a most painful death in a matter of months. And that is not all." Narcissa paused but Draco wasn't sure he was even breathing anymore. His senses had all but halted. "The marriage vows will seal the curse. Your ancestors brought muggle-borns in the house as a sport- leaving them in the dungeons- raping them for days till they lost interest and killed them off. That was until the day your great-great-uncle fell in love with one, earning the ire of his father. The couple escaped and married, hoping to hide forever. But they were found a month later. Your great-great-uncle was killed. Don't ask me what happened to the girl- you'd rather not know."

Draco felt the air being knocked out of him, felt as if he was falling in an abyss and the end was not in sight.

"What curse?" he managed to mutter.

"To ensure it never happened in the bloodline again, a curse was cast, one so powerful that it passes on to every male heir in the family. You are born with it and there is no known cure. You can only marry a girl who has inherited magic from both her parents, in other words, one who belongs to a magical background. No muggle-born witch can survive if married to a Malfoy. The curse will make her forget her husband every time they come together to consummate the marriage- she'll forget she's married to him, and will only feel the agony of being raped. Every. Single. Time. And it will continue for three months until the curse claims and kills her," Narcissa finished, looking at the familiar grey eyes of her son- eyes that now looked devoid of any emotion, devoid of life.

Destiny raised her glass.

Checkmate, she declared.