A Crown of Sacrifice
After the ceremony, a grand feast was waiting for the wedding party in the dining hall. Hermione was sat alongside her new husband at the head table as riotous laughter and chatter filled the large dim room over the clink of glasses and cutlery.
With her and Draco's successful marriage, the alliance was officially complete.
News of this had reached Remus and he had marched their soldiers to Malfoy castle making it just in time for the feast. For the first time in many years, Gryffindor and Slytherin were celebrating together but Hermione could not manage anything but a quiet disinterest, as she picked at her food and drank small sips from her goblet. She was still acclimating to the idea that she was now Lady Hermione Malfoy of Slytherin.
The fact hardly felt real. Especially with how the day's events had been strangely quiet and uninterrupted considering the monumental impact they would have on the war.
No doubt, it was gnawing at everyone's mind and as if reading her thoughts, Harry cleared his throat from his seat on her other side.
"Voldemort will know of the alliance by tomorrow. Have you considered how Slytherin will defend—"
"There will be no talk of war, Potter." Draco interrupted, his voice carrying across the hall. "Consider tonight a victory and celebrate it. Tomorrow we'll begin planning our next one."
The room interrupted in cheers and Draco raised a glass to his grinning lips as he caught her eye.
Nothing he had said was particularly wrong, but Hermione felt an overwhelming urge to hit him. Instead, she stabbed at the veal in her plate.
It was not long after that a nobleman approached their table and bowed before them. Draco nodded and acknowledged the man as Lord Perseus Parkinson. The Slytherin noble congratulated them before revealing a piece of jewelry to her.
"For Lady Hermione Malfoy. A necklace with stone harvested from our very own emerald mines paired with finest of forged silver. May your union be blessed by the gods."
As if he had started an unspoken tradition more people began to come up to the head table with offerings and congratulations. Hermione couldn't care less about the gifts, but she understood the true meaning behind such formalities.
A sign of acquiesce. With each bearing of gifts or blessings, the nobles essentially lay down their weapons and aligned themselves with Draco, though not without their own ulterior motives.
Hermione listened carefully to the words exchanged. Each man had his own agenda, to expand his estate, obtain some resource, or even simply gain a favor for future use. Her new husband seemed well versed in the art of these unspoken agreements, which wasn't as assuring as one would think.
It took a great measure of calculatedness to handle these dealings. To either allow someone to take from you or deny them without breaking the fragile bonds of fellowship. And he did it all with ease.
She took the opportunity to inspect him more closely while he was preoccupied with negotiating with a general requesting his own estate.
His features, she begrudgingly admitted, were pleasing to the eye. He seemed to be arrogantly aware of this fact as well. The charming smile plastered on his face meant nothing as it never quite reached his eyes. He could have been very well cursing them all in his thoughts, and yet no one seemed to register the deception.
It was a tactic that allowed him to hide any vulnerability and it would have been commendable if he used it around his enemies.
And there lied the crux of the problem.
He had claimed to her that they were allies now, meant to get along and yet he still behaved like she was an enemy just as he did with everyone around him, even his own Slytherin allies.
It—he was dangerous.
Her conclusion was driven home when to her utter shock a chained, injured man was led through the room, followed by a cacophony of hollering and cheering. She glanced at Harry, but he was listening closely to Remus's quiet whispers, a frown growing on his face.
"Potter, you're going to like this." Draco said with an indulgent smile before standing to address the room. "As a peace offering of our own, I present Peter Pettigrew, one of Voldemort's most loyal supporters. Not only was he a traitor to the late Lord and Lady Potter but to all of Gryffindor, so on behalf of Slytherin, we give Gryffindor the gift of his death."
Applause broke out, even louder than before. Hermione had seen her fair share of death and torture but that did not mean she wished to relish it. She had heard of this man and the sins he had committed. His death would not pray on her conscious, but she did not wish to witness it like this.
Harry and Remus were out of their seats, talking quietly to Pettigrew who seemed to be begging for mercy. Hermione cleared her throat quietly. Draco turned his head away from the quiet exchange he was having with Lord Theo and another Slytherin noble.
"If this is all for tonight, I wish to take my leave."
"You don't want to stay for the show?"
"I am not eager to witness a man's death, no."
"Even if that man has caused death a hundred times over?"
Hermione frowned, "You know very well that this is not in the name of justice or righting a wrong. It is merely a debacle where men can watch another man die for their own pleasure and amusement."
He shrugged and then nodded at someone behind them. A handmaiden appeared almost immediately.
"Please take Lady Malfoy to her new bedchambers and ensure everything is to her satisfaction. I'll be there soon enough."
She stiffened as his last words hit her ears. Any initial relief at being able to leave was gone with the realization that the next natural step was to be taken to her room to begin the wedding night preparations.
She stood on shaky feet and followed the woman out of the hall. It would have been prudent to accustom herself to the layout of the castle as they walked, but her mind was elsewhere.
The wedding night had not been something Hermione had let herself dwell on. It was a natural requirement, and she knew she would have to undergo it as her duty as a wife to ensure that the marriage was legal in the eyes of the gods and Hogwarts law.
But now, in this unfamiliar home, with the event suddenly approaching she realized how badly she wished she didn't have to.
Anxiety swooped in her stomach, and there was only a momentary respite when the handmaiden stopped at a large door and gestured for her to enter.
"These are my bedchambers?" Hermione looked around at the stone room, something akin to disbelief in her eyes.
Perhaps her reaction was because it had been too long ago since she had stayed in a room that hadn't been a tent or wooden lodge. The furniture was ancient but the craftmanship was intricate, there were gold and silver embalmed decorations everywhere, and an elegant tapestry hung from the walls.
It was beautiful and spacious but most of all, "Mine alone?"
The handmaiden that had escorted her from the dining hall nodded. "Yes, my Lady. Lord Malfoy has allowed you a private room. His bedchambers are across the hall."
She was automatically suspicious. It was uncommon for a husband and wife to not share a bed, and as glad as she was at the prospect, it did little to settle her nerves.
Her eyes unwillingly strayed to the bed, and it sent a visible shudder through her body. Aware that she still had a pair of eyes on her, Hermione turned to the handmaiden. "I will be able to manage it myself from here. Thank you, you're dismissed."
Hermione waited until the young woman had left before venturing further into the room. She wasn't sure what she was expecting to find as she surveyed the various furniture. The shelves were empty, the desk had a single blank parchment and a quill. It was just her wardrobe that was brimming with new clothing, courtesy of her husband.
When all seemed in order, Hermione found herself in front of the crackling fireplace in an effort to smooth the sudden prickling of her skin.
A man she nor trusted or liked, a stranger, was to bed her, see her at her most vulnerable and perform the most intimate of acts.
She was not well-versed in the matter. A stolen kiss in her youth hardly translated to an expertise on the act of sex but she did remember the moments she would overhear the handmaidens whispering about their husbands, or beloveds, even the men who took their passing fancy and how they would steal away for a moment to enjoy themselves.
Hermione had giggled at the aspects of their stories that encroached her sensibilities and sighed at the romantic parts. She had dreamed of her own man who would whisk her away and shower her with kisses as they made love.
This would be nothing like that.
She prayed to the gods that perhaps he would be drunk, but she knew Draco had only taken measured sips of ale throughout the night. She contemplated claiming she was having her monthlies, but it would only be cause for further embarrassment if he decided to have her checked.
So caught up in her troubling thoughts, she almost didn't notice the figure leaning against her door.
"You're here." She straightened and crossed her arms over chest though it looked more defensive than intimidating. "Was your show as enthralling as you hoped?"
"It was. At death's door, Pettigrew lost all semblance of dignity, it was—vastly entertaining." He cocked his head, eyes running up and down her body. "You seem nervous."
"I'm not."
"What were you pacing for then?"
"I don't like to sit still when I'm thinking."
He stepped into the room, and she felt a strange sinking in her stomach as he shut the door. "And what pray tell, was my new wife thinking of?"
She chose to remain silent as he neared. When only a few feet of distance lay between them, he stopped and of all things Hermione did not expect the next thing for him to ask to be, "Are you a virgin?"
Would it make a difference? She gauged his face and found no answer.
"Of course, I am." She snapped. "Or perhaps you'd like to bring a healer in and check?"
"No, but it would be better for both of us if I had a sense of how experienced you are."
"I'm not." Her next words were more of an afterthought. "If I had it my way, it would continue to remain so."
He raised an eyebrow. "You wish to disobey your wedding duties as a wife?"
"No." Her nose raised. "We will consummate the marriage tonight—" At his smirk, she continued on firmly. "—so that it is official but after that, there will be no need for it to happen again until an heir is required, and I see no good reason for heirs during these times of war."
Again, she had no way of knowing how he felt about her proposition, his face remaining carefully composed. "In the meantime, I will not find it offensive or troubling if…alternate methods are used to sate certain needs. Do you—do you agree to those terms?"
There was a lengthy silence and Hermione resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably.
Finally, he shook his head, "Frankly it sounds like an abysmal plan. But what I'm understanding from this conversation is, you don't want to fuck tonight."
Her mouth dropped open several times before she came up with a response. "I—I will do it as it is my duty this one time—"
"That doesn't answer my question, do you want to have sex tonight?"
He knew the answer to his own question, still he waited patiently for her to answer.
"I told you, yes I will do it—"
"You wanting to do something and willing to do something are vastly different things. So, answer this, if it was not required of you, would you go to bed with me?"
"Of course not." She rolled her eyes. "But that is not the point. Consummation is a requirement, therefore I want to do it." She had gotten too far, for this alliance to be broken by whispers of something as foolish as an incomplete marriage bond. "But after that, you will leave me alone."
He tutted. "We are married in the eyes of the gods. Which makes you mine, and I yours. I don't see why we must divest ourselves of the pleasure that a bond so true can give."
"The only thing I am given from this marriage is contempt and disgust."
"And of course, an ally to Gryffindor." He listed pointedly. "As well as a victory for your people, revenge for your parents, the throne for your brother—"
She pursed her lips, feeling her frustration boil over. "What do you want?"
"What I want is not only a consenting wife, but one who desires to fuck me, one perhaps even begging for it—"
Her cheeks heated in anger, and she brandished a finger at him. "If you think for even a second, I would stoop—"
He raised his hands in surrender. "Not even I would be foolish enough to hope you'd do such a thing, but I'd like for you to be wanting, or at the very least comfortable with my touch."
She hardly believed he was telling the truth. It was much too chivalrous for the likes of him.
"From what I know, the woman's state does not matter—that is, it is unnecessary for her to be—" She wanted to die of mortification. "—stimulated. As long as the man is able to…unless you too, do not want…"
"Oh, you sweet thing," He crooned and smiled at her in a way that exposed his teeth and made him look alarmingly too predatory. "If you think I don't want to fuck you, you are foolishly mistaken. I've wanted you since the moment I laid eyes on you."
"Then—"
"Let me propose something. As you said, this is not a traditional marriage so we will not consummate it the traditional way, on the wedding night, though we will allow others to think we did. We will only do it once you are truly agreeable. That will save you your pride and comfort and make it pleasurable for the both of us."
"And is that all you're getting out of this arrangement—a more pleasurable night?"
"Of course not. What I ask for in return is that you spend fifteen minutes of your day with me."
"Why?"
"So that we can get to know one another and perhaps I can convince you that your dislike for me is misguided."
"I highly doubt such a thing will happen."
"We'll see." The expression on his face as if he thought his word was infallible, incensed her greatly. "I am also asking that you will allow me to take one liberty with you a day, in exchange for our agreement."
Her brows furrowed. "Liberty?"
He shrugged innocently. "A touch, a kiss. Whatever I deem appropriate."
Hermione finally realized what he was playing at. Instead of one night, he was aiming to take from her little by little every day. "No. Absolutely not. What is so terrible about my original plan?"
He shrugged and then he was stepping close to her, too close, enough that she could feel the heat of his body against her. "I don't think it was me who found it so terrible." He could no doubt see the panic in her expression, still he murmured. "But if you'd like to do it tonight then so be it. Undress for me."
Her fingers tightened on her crossed arms. "What?"
"I can't fuck you with your clothes in the way, can I?" He was being deliberately crass perhaps to scare her, and it was working. When she did not move, he cocked his head. "Unless perhaps you'd like to revisit your qualms about my proposition?"
At her continued silence he stepped away allowing her to finally take a breath. "Remember this Hermione, bravado is only impressive when you truly mean the words you say."
"Fine." She hissed through gritted teeth. "Fifteen minutes a day and a liberty and in exchange the consummation will be when I decide."
"Perfect." He said and she felt herself relax. She dared to hope that was it and that he would take his leave, but he only stood there and considered her.
"Come here."
Gods, how she wanted to hit him. The pure arrogance he possessed as if he thought he could order her around and she would obey.
"Why?"
"In order to see if you will stay true to your word, I require a kiss. Consider it the liberty for the day."
She shook her head resolutely. "Today's events have been more than enough. The arrangement can begin tomorrow."
"If you don't kiss me, I'll be forced to rescind my offer."
"You can't." She bit out. "We've already agreed upon it."
"Then by that logic the agreement is in effect, and you must fulfill your obligations. I'm beginning to think you're not serious about this, in fact, your incessant need to argue is making me skeptical about the entire thing."
She took a deep breath in an effort to control her rage. She did not want to kiss him, but she did not want to sleep with him either. One option clearly outshined the other. "One—kiss." She grimaced as the words left her mouth.
He looked at her with expectance. "It must be pleasant, and it must be reflective of your resolve to our arrangement—"
With the brush of lips, she could imagine it was not him she was touching, and she would be saved from a far more invasive and distressing fate, at least for the time being. So, Hermione gathered all her courage to take the two steps that brought her close to him. "Close your eyes then."
He laughed but to her surprise, did as she requested, his eyelids falling shut. She paused and stared, finding him strangely vulnerable in that moment.
His eyes were closed but the smile on his face faded when he felt her hands tentatively cup his jaw. His bone structure was sharp, his skin smooth to the touch. With a deep breath, she rose on her toes and pressed her mouth to his.
The warmth of his lips was shockingly pleasant, and coupled with a sickening fluttering in her stomach, it was a strange sensation. His lips were receptive to the kiss, but he did nothing to further or pull away from it.
He was testing her, seeing whether she would hold up her word. Reflective of her resolve, he had said, so determined to convince him and emboldened by the unpleasantness of it all, she pressed her mouth harder. Her hands slid from his face to the nape of his neck, as she took his bottom lip between hers and gently sucked.
She decided that was enough but when she pulled away and drew a steadying breath, his hand shot to the back of her head and he joined their mouths once again, only this time he did not withhold. She had not permitted it but the strange tingling rushing through her was something she had scarcely felt before as he molded his lips to hers.
The blood soared to her head and her heart thumped in an overwhelming and dizzying cacophony. It was only when she felt his tongue sensually trail against her lips seeking entry, that her head cleared, and cold reality hit her.
She shoved his chest hard and moved back so that several feet lay between them. "There." She spat as she wiped her mouth. "You've had your kiss."
For once, she could see something in his eyes. Something dark and heated, as he said. "As someone who claims to be so inexperienced, you certainly do not kiss like it."
"If it was to your satisfaction, I presume the deal is on?"
"It exceeded expectations." It was a shiver of disgust she told herself that rolled through her, as he appraised her one last time whilst his tongue darted out to lick his lips. "The deal is on and I'm quite looking forward to it. Goodnight, wife."