Full summary: Voldemort has won and is trying a new angle to gain power. In a strategic marriage, he uses Hermione and Draco as pawns to win over the worldwide wizarding community. Being the new "It Couple" in the press, Hermione and Draco struggle to navigate a world in which they must present themselves as a Happy Couple in order to protect those they love. Can they overcome their differences to save not only themselves, but the entirety of the wizarding world?
a/n: This is my first bit of writing EVER outside of academic work, so please leave a review if you feel so inclined. A huge thank you to my incredible alpha, Helene (enchanted4life), without whom this story would not be possible! Thanks also to my beta, Noodar, who is helping make this story the best it can be!
Disclaimer: Unfortunately I do not own any of the characters or themes in this story. All credit for those go to JK Rowling.
a/n: As of 6/16/2021, I am making some updates (syntax edits, adding imagery, etc.) to the first few chapters, so if you have been reading, you may see some minor changes, but I am NOT making any plot changes! That's all been determined this whole time and is not changing. Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoy :)
Chapter One: Signature
As much as she wanted to think about anything other than what was about to happen with one of the most vile wizards in the whole of London, Hermione Granger couldn't think of anything but. She sat there watching the clock hands tick, tapping her foot as two Death Eaters she didn't recognize stood just outside the door to her left. Any moment now, Draco Malfoy would glide past them with that ugly, twisted sneer and join her in the worst legal decision to ever have been decreed.
One Month Prior - Battle of Hogwarts
Feeling as though she were witnessing everything from fifteen feet above, Hermione stood frozen. The scene before her moved in slow motion.
Harry Potter is dead.
Voldemort's words rang through her ears. She vaguely registered someone falling to their knees a few paces away. As blurry figures darted all around, the stone floor of the Great Hall wobbled beneath her shoes.
He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him.
Bile rose in her throat as Voldemort's disembodied voice still rang through her ears.
The battle is won. You have lost half of your fighters. My Death Eaters outnumber you and The Boy Who Lived is finished. Anyone who continues to resist, man, woman or child, will be slaughtered as well as every member of their family. Support me now and you shall be spared. Your parents and children, your brothers and sisters will live, and be forgiven, and you will join me in the new world we shall build together.
Hands gripped her shoulders, Ron's stunned expression pulling her out of her haze.
"Hermione…" he choked out. He slid his arms around her and held her against his chest. "It's…I don't…" He could barely get the words out, and although she couldn't breathe, her arms lifted and circled his middle of their own accord.
She squeezed her eyes shut, denying every horrible bit of reality they were facing.
"I'm so sorry dears, but we don't have time to grieve now," McGonagall's distinct voice sounded from just ahead. "Voldemort and his followers will be back any moment. We have to finish him off-"
"We can't," Hermione said. She stepped out of Ron's arms, her mind springing into action, and she embraced the adrenaline. She raised her voice to speak to the hall filled with fighters. "We need to leave. We have to get everyone out of here right now."
"Hermione," Arthur started as he approached her, "what do you mean?"
"Voldemort isn't going to come back now. He's done what he came here to do." She tried to swallow the words she was about to say, but they came out anyway, tasting of acid. "Harry is dead."
The Great Hall went silent.
"If we stay, we'll only fight the Death Eaters more." She scanned the crowd of people, broken and bloody; grieving and ready to continue the fight. "We need to get out now while we can and re-group to figure out a plan to defeat Voldemort."
"I say we blast through the Death Eaters and finish him off right now," Fred said.
"It's not going to be that easy." Hermione pressed on despite the despair that coursed through her. "We have to kill the snake first-"
"The snake?" Fred asked.
"That's what Harry told me just before he went into the forest," Neville jumped in. "He told me to kill the snake."
Hermione met her gaze with Neville's for one brief, solemn moment. He may not have known about the Horcruxes, but he trusted Harry as much as she did. They weren't going to win this without getting to the snake, and something within Hermione told her the second she'd heard the dreaded words that Harry was gone that Voldemort would keep his last Horcrux more protected than ever.
"Kreacher," McGonagall called, and with a pop, he landed in front of her. "We need to Apparate everyone out of here immediately. One elf to two people…Bill!" she called out, and he stepped towards them. "We need to get everyone to Shell Cottage. We will gather outside, set up tents, whatever we need to do, but we must stick together. I need you to tell the elves its location."
He replied with a curt nod, turning to follow Kreacher a few paces away where the elves gathered.
The fighters murmured in fear, sound in the Great Hall once again building in the confined space. All around, Hermione heard the protests and frustration from people wanting to stay and fight. She could understand that feeling; she was angry, too. But in times of distress, she had always relied on reason and action, and as much as she wanted to succumb to the grief that threatened to tear her apart, she couldn't.
McGonagall faced her and grasped her shoulders. "Are you sure?" she said in nearly a whisper.
The woman before her was the definition of strength, yet in this moment, she didn't know what Hermione knew, and she trusted that she would lead her in the right direction. Hermione nodded, and McGonagall held her gaze for one moment longer until she turned and silenced the room again with several sharp, booming claps.
"I know we are all scared and hurting. Some of us wish to finish this here and now. But we are going to leave and properly strategize our next moves. Now, get in pairs and go with the elves!"
The Hall filled with voices again. McGonagall and the other older Order members sprang into action, helping people gather closely. Hermione followed suit, directing people into pairs and helping them get to elves as they dispersed.
Screams and horrified cries echoed in the Hall as Death Eaters spilled into the space in droves. Hermione was helping Madam Pomfrey get the injured and dead out at the far end of the Hall when the flashes of spells and hexes whooshed through the air near the entrance.
"Hermione!" Ron screamed from the center of the room. In the chaos, they had moved apart, and with no elf in close proximity, he was stuck casting defensive spells in every direction.
When the final two elves Disapparated, Madam Pomfrey bolted towards a fight between Greyback, yelling at Hermione to get out.
She ran to Ron and grasped his hand, sending several Jelly-Legs Jinxes towards a masked figure fighting Dean Thomas a few paces away. Hannah Abbott took hold of Dean's arm, and both were gone a second later. Hermione whipped her head around, searching for an elf, until one with emerald eyes appeared before them, stretching his hand out to her.
"Miss! Sir! Take my han-"
Faster than she could blink, the elf dropped to the floor.
Hermione rounded on the attacker. "Sectumsempra!" she bellowed.
Someone who looked like an older, uglier Gregory Goyle hit the ground, the new wounds covering his body soaking his robes with blood.
Streams of light were flashing in front of her eyes, and she could only hear a few pops of Disapparition. Beyond a sea of black robes, McGonagall and Kingsley were back-to-back in an intense battle.
"Hermione, come on! I see George." Ron tugged on her arm, casting an Impedimenta to his right.
"No- Ron, we have to bring him!" Hermione said, her voice tight as she dropped to grab the fallen elf's hand.
"Hermi-"
"Come! Come!" Kreacher popped up behind the pair. "Leave Hudsey!" He grabbed Hermione's other arm and pulled her hand free from the elf sprawled on the floor, the image of his lifeless green eyes searing into her memory.
She whipped her head over her shoulder and connected her gaze with Ron's just as he dropped her hand.
"I can't leave George on his own! I have to go help," he said over his shoulder as he turned and rushed away.
"No! Ron-" She reached for her friend as the tug of Apparition twisted behind her naval and the Great Hall spun to black.
Present Day
At the precise moment the clock hands landed together on the twelve, Hermione caught a flash of silver-blonde in her peripheral stride past the guards.
He stopped in the entryway.
She bore her eyes into the clock high on the wall ahead of her, fidgeting with the hem of her dirty jumper. She would not look at him; wouldn't glance in his direction. She did not want to see his sneering face or watch him brood over the decisions made by a man…no, creature, he supported. People had died. Friends. Family. Children had been orphaned. And he gets to be mad about this? No. She would not entertain it.
"Sit down, Draco," a smooth, yet sharp voice rang through the tiny space. Lucius Malfoy sauntered past his son and stood behind the chair opposite Hermione, resting his hands on the high back.
Hermione refused to look away from the ticking hands of the clock, but when the younger Malfoy took the seat in front of his father, she couldn't help the flicker of her eyes in his direction. He had clasped his hands together on the table with a look of deep disdain plastered on his face. His eyes flickered to hers at the same moment, and for a brief second, their gaze connected. She fixed her stare back on the clock, feeling the sickening mixture of anger and fear settle within her stomach.
After days of waiting in the cold, dark room somewhere within the Ministry of Magic, an older, scraggly-haired man walked in and told her that Lord Voldemort would require her service alongside none other than Draco fucking Malfoy. She could only allow herself a moment to let the panic drench her until she found a perfect focal point in the only other moving piece in the room: the clock.
Another man entered the room and stood next to the table, lifting a large piece of parchment and reading. "'Draco Lucius Malfoy and Hermione Jean Granger, you have been brought here today to fulfill the final aspect of Advancement Decree No. 3, establishing unity between witches and wizards of all blood statuses." Hermione recognized the voice of the Minister of Magic, Pius Thicknesse. "On this day, June 2nd, 1998, at precisely 12:05 p.m., you will join in an espousal under the direct order of Lord Voldemort. In your union, you will obey his commands in full compliance. You will represent Lord Voldemort in the media, and at domestic and international functions, as He desires. You will not disclose the true nature of your union to anyone…and you will not copulate."
Hermione tried to hide her swallow. She squeezed her eyes shut. The very thought of returning to the Manor after what had happened to her last time she was there threatened to send her into a panic. She couldn't fathom what other horrors might lie ahead for her under the Malfoy roof. No, no, she would not show any emotions; wouldn't give them the satisfaction. She fixed her burning eyes on the clock once more.
The Minister continued, "'Defying any aspect of this contract by either or both parties will result in the execution of Rubeus Hagrid and Narcissa Malfoy.'"
Hermione kept her breathing steady as the Minister flattened the document to the table, producing two quills and an inkpot with a flick of his wand.
"Mr. Malfoy, your signature and today's date here," he said.
Hermione didn't look at Draco, but she knew he had paused by the silence that filled the confined space. She barely dared to blink as she waited to hear the scratching of the quill. She realized then how clinical the whole thing was: the pure white walls…the fluorescent lighting…the cold metal table and chairs…
"Sign it," Draco's father hissed, and Hermione tore her gaze away from the clock as her childhood bully - her best friend's nemesis - scrawled his signature to their marriage contract.
Thicknesse shoved the document to Hermione. "Mudblood," he sneered, dropping the second quill in front of her.
Hermione looked straight at Draco for several beats. He stared past her, his stormy eyes fixed on the wall just behind her. She drew her stare down to the parchment in front of her. The words flowed together in a blur…
establishing unity…
obey his commands…
execution of Ru…
She couldn't process any of it; couldn't let herself feel. She just had to sign the bloody paper and do what was necessary to save Hagrid and herself. She would have to plan a way out later. With a few swift movements, she penned Hermione Jean Granger and the day's date onto the damning document. Her chest constricted as she watched the contract roll up and fly into a pocket of the Minister's robes.
"Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy. Your service starts now."
Next update: September 23, 2020
Check out the mood board for this chapter on my Pinterest account under the same name, QuellerKay!