December 1999

The sun's rays pierced the windows of the Manor, harsh and unwelcome. He hadn't slept. Draco closed the door to the dining room, entombing what lay within, and made certain all the appropriate people were owled — and paid. He was preternaturally calm and covered in blood when he closed the gates of Malfoy Manor, never to step foot inside again.

There was only one place to go after a night like that.

Draco's shoes squelched as he landed on his solicitor's priceless rug. Theo, busy checking his tie in preparation for another long day at the office, did a double take at his oldest friend standing in his living room. He was by Draco's side in an instant. Draco braced for the questions, the accusations, the disbelief. But none of it came. And when he fell to his knees and banged his fists into the floors until they were as bloody as the rest of him, Theo held him, silently.

The events of the previous night slowly tumbled from his trembling lips. Still, Theo said nothing.

"What am I going to do, Theo?" Draco croaked. "They won't even look at anyone else for this once they know a former Death Eater was there. I can't go back to Azkaban."

"It was good thinking to come to me first, and pay off the press. They'll release the news in a few days, then?"

Draco nodded. "And whatever investigation the Aurors conduct will start then, too."

The room threatened to implode in on him. There would be an inquiry. He'd be tried — again. And this time there would be no sympathetic words from war heroes. Not that a murder sentence could be lessened. He put up his Occlumency walls. Now wasn't the time to go into shock.

"We'll be ready for it. But any minute now, the Ministry's births and deaths records will update, and neither you nor your father can make a claim on the Malfoy holdings as long as all Malfoy men are unwed. You could inherit."

"That's in the trust and estate paperwork?"

"It's my job to know these things. You need to get married. Today." Theo paused, waiting for Draco to show some emotion. None came forth, no matter how his rage and anguish battered the walls of his mind. "It's impossible to contemplate right now, I'm sure, but we have no time. It's the only way to keep him from remarrying and revising the terms of the inheritance. If you marry before he does, it passes to you automatically."

"I… I can't," Draco choked as realisation dawned. "I haven't even mourned her — it's unconscionable, Theo."

"There will be time to mourn. I swear it, Draco. But now, as your legal counsel and as your friend, I'm telling you. You have to make your move."

"Who would I even… Pansy's out now. Obviously not Daphne…." He spiralled, terrified at the thought of seeing Daphne and Greg Goyle again.

"You won't like my suggestion."

It was the understatement of the century.

All the anger lying in wait under his grief erupted with the shock and fury of a long-dormant volcano. "Under no circumstances am I asking Hermione Granger to marry me."

"Draco, think about it for a second —"

"Absolutely not. What about your secretary? She seems like the type who wouldn't mind an ironclad confidentiality agreement. Fucking hell, Theo. Anyone but Granger."

"Not that you have to tell her anything, but Granger is excellent at keeping secrets. No one knows what in Merlin's great bushy beard she's been doing in Australia, and believe me, the public wants to know. Did you read her interview with the Prophet? She barely answered a single question. And she looks like hell," Theo's face softened, and his voice came out gentler as he spoke again. "You won't be tempted by her, if you're worried about it."

He hadn't thought of his boyhood attraction to Granger in years. He wouldn't think about it now. He willed himself to keep his walls up against the onslaught of memories and emotions.

"The Malfoy binding ritual… if it has to be legal…." He swallowed, unable to continue.

"There's nothing in the estate planning documents that says your wife has to be Pureblood. Your ancestors assumed every Malfoy would wed only the purest princesses until either the line dies out or the sun explodes."

Draco shook his head. That wasn't what worried him.

"Ah," Theo placed a reassuring hand on his friend's shoulder, avoiding one of many setting bloodstains. "It'd be only one night, Draco."

He looked into Theo's sad eyes. They both knew better than most — so much could change in one night.

"You've got money, and rumour has it she's practically destitute. Considering she's a Muggleborn, I'm inclined to believe it. You've got room to negotiate terms."

"She can't stay here. There'd be too many questions. And I'm never going back to the Manor."

"So you'll live separately. I'll witness an Unbreakable Vow to that effect if it helps. And marriage certificates can't be sealed but I'll file it myself. No one will know except Minister Podmore himself, and that's only because everything crosses that desk at some point. He likely won't even notice."

Draco stayed silent.

"Do you really want that scum-sucking bastard to get everything and write you out forever? After everything he did to you? I'll bet anything he's the one who did this."

Draco chuckled darkly. "And who'll believe me? He's in maximum security. Obviously, he had someone do it for him but Theo, I'm the one standing here with blood on my hands."

He finally showered, though only at Theo's insistence.

"There's a ninety-nine percent chance she'd refuse you even on your best day." Theo threw him a towel and a look of pity. Draco relented, smearing deep red gore over his friend's white marble floors with every step, and lost himself in the thrum of the hot shower.

An hour later, armed with an address purloined by Theo's private detective, he donned his warmest black wool coat and dragonhide boots, and set off. He found her in a tragic little flat in a bad neighbourhood. She opened the door, bleary-eyed, the pull-out sofa preventing it from swinging all the way in. Granger looked brittle and hollow as bone in an ivory turtleneck and fleece-lined pants. He recognised the deep purple under her eyes — it matched his own. His Occlumency kicked in, and Merlin knows what he said, but it must have been convincing, as with only a backward glance, she plucked her thin coat from a hook and followed him to the rooftop where they could talk privately.

Snow fell from the grey sky in a steady stream. The flurries formed tiny cyclones, whipped into a frenzy by the wind. Despite the strongest warming charms, they simultaneously clutched at their coats, their breaths briefly visible before being carried away by the December air. They were losing daylight.

What a strange world, he thought as he faced his old enemy, that Hermione Granger was now his best chance at securing his inheritance after his father destroyed his happiness. He would never forgive the man, but he wasn't too proud to claim the money he was owed. For becoming a Death Eater, for ruining his engagement — for all of the abuse. But there was only one way to get it.

"I need a wife." He nearly had to shout it. The wind was picking up, drowning him out.

Granger gave a bitter laugh. "What makes you think you can knock on my door after everything that's happened and ask for my help in finding a wife? Have you tried dating, or has it proved a touch tricky with that Mark on your arm?"

Draco took a risk and grabbed her elbow, pulling her towards him. She'd know how desperate he was, but he didn't care. Last night he'd left his care, his love, his future at the Manor. He shivered, thinking of their bodies lying there. He should've buried them. No one was going to believe him. His innocence was long gone. He would die in Azkaban. Unless….

He had to fight to bring himself back to the problem at hand. "You mistake me. I need a wife today."

She understood him immediately. He released her arm, but both their limbs remained suspended in mid-air, collecting a fine dusting of snowflakes, locked as much as their gazes.

"My father has made a move to disinherit me," Not the whole truth, but not a lie, either. "And if I marry today, I can circumvent his plans."

"Why me?" She reached a fever pitch, her words nearly swept away. A shiver — or maybe a shudder — brought her closer.

He shouted back. "If the papers are true, you need money and privacy, yes? I can offer you both. And you're available."

"You hate me."

He didn't. He felt nothing for anyone. Not anymore, anyway. But she didn't need to know that.

"And you hate me. But you need someone, right?"

She stuck her little reddened nose in the air. This was it. The ever-proud Hermione Granger would spin in her snow boots and leave him here to face the encroaching night alone. The rejection lay on the tip of her tongue, ready to spring forth and deprive him of what meagre hope remained.

Maybe she heard it in his voice, worn thin from hours of begging, crying, screaming. Maybe she saw his knees shaking, not from cold but from exhaustion and grief. She didn't meet his eyes, but he knew they were bloodshot. Draco Malfoy was the picture of despair, as miserable and wretched as he'd been that night at the astronomy tower, looking for someone to save him.

And for reasons he couldn't grasp, she said yes.

A short time later, they found themselves defrosting in Theo's office and hammering out the details over tea. Draco would never step foot on another Malfoy property again, both to secure Granger's privacy and to begin to distance himself from the Malfoy name after the events of the morning. Granger could have her pick of the existing estates. She chose Cyclamen Cottage, a fair distance from the city. Theo made a note to have it prepared immediately for her arrival tomorrow. Draco impressed upon her that while he would not put it in the Vow, since she stressed that the Wizengamot had subpoenaed her before, London was heretofore unavailable to her.

He didn't tell her that he feared she might be next, if Lucius found out he'd taken a Muggleborn as his wife.

She insisted that her parents, who shared her squalid excuse for a flat, come with her. Apparently, the Ministry made an exception for the parents of popular Muggleborn war heroines. She'd always been a family-first sort of witch, and he could admit he admired that about her. It was the one thing they had in common.

Granger would have access to all his accounts, and he set no limits to her spending. Surprise lit her features as she reviewed his face, searching for evidence of deceit or a snide comment. Frankly, he didn't care what she spent, or how. What did it matter? They were set for several lifetimes.

The last point was his, and it was non-negotiable.

"You can never have another lover," he said, sorrow creeping into his voice despite his best attempts at Occlumency. "Any children would be considered by our family magic to be born from our union, and the Malfoy line ends with me."

Her eyes widened as she clattered her teacup into its saucer. "There are charms —"

Draco cut her off. "No. I won't tolerate even the most minute of chances. But I'll hold myself to the same standard. We'll have tonight, and nothing more."

"You can't be serious."

"I'm afraid I am."

She tilted her head. "Do you even know what you're giving up?" Her cheeks blossomed a pale pink. She'd likely meant for the question to be more accusatory, but instead betrayed a certain interest.

He considered bluffing, but Granger's tense posture warned him off. "No, but I don't think you do, either," he ventured.

Her indignant huff and downward glance told him all he needed to know. Draco felt unsure whether this new information ramped up the pressure on his performance in the bedroom. On the one hand, they had no firsthand knowledge of sex, so the playing field was level. But on the other, they'd never have the potential for partnered pleasure ever again. He resolved to make it as good for them both as possible.

Of course, she made it difficult to stick to that resolution. "I won't agree to that."

"Then you can go," Draco gestured towards the door. "I'll find someone else." His heart raced, each frantic beat bringing him closer to a panic attack. The clock read close to midnight. This day, the worst day of his life, which had dragged along like a dying cat, now sped towards the finish line. There was no more time, and there was no one else.

Granger exhaled. "You won't find anyone else. But you've caught me on one of the worst days of my life," she paused, taking him in. He propped up his Occlumency walls with all he had. "I can't support myself and my family on a Ministry salary. And my friends… it's a long story. I thought once I returned things would improve, but they've deteriorated to a degree I couldn't predict, or else I wouldn't be standing here with you now."

Curiosity cracked his hard shell. "Are your problems really that insurmountable, Granger? This is irreversible. Inseverable. We'll be magically bound together."

She shifted on her feet. "Unless you've got a Time-Turner tucked away somewhere, this is the best solution I've got."

Theo cleared his throat. "If we're going to do this, now's the time." He closed the curtains and lit candles to prepare the space.

First, they made the agreed upon Unbreakable Vow with Theo as their Bonder and witness to their legal marriage. Separate lives, shared money, no other partners and therefore no children. Granger clutched his elbow in a vise grip as ribbons of purple spiralled up and down their joined arms. After they both said "I will," it was time for the magical ceremony.

Theo made his exit while Draco untied the leather cord of a knife roll. The blade inside winked in the low light, the handle scored with ancient runes and inlaid with emeralds. Beneath it he withdrew a small piece of parchment, battered by time, and reviewed the words of the Malfoy family ritual.

Draco stood next to Granger and held the parchment between them. "How's your French?"

Her eyes widened as they scanned the faded ink. She answered in a flawless Parisian accent. "Il suffit de savoir que tu ouvriras ma paume avec cette chose." Good enough to know you're going to slice my palm open with that thing. She gestured to the heirloom knife.

"We say it at the same time, and I'll make the cut for both of us," Draco confirmed in English. "Then we press our palms together. That should do it."

It was nothing he'd wanted for his wedding. He'd hoped for an all-out bash with all the Slytherins, a destination wedding in Paris. He wanted a brass band. A tower of champagne. Floating ice sculptures and fragrant roses handpicked by his mother. He choked up at the loss of a dance with her. What would she say, if she were here? What would she think about his second choice of bride?

And what would his almost-fiancee think? His beautiful bride-to-be, who he left cold and stiff just this morning, her hand clutching Narcissa's? Please, he thought. Forgive me.

He would never have that wedding. The business with Granger was more of a funeral than anything else. She hastily transfigured herself a simple black dress and sensible heels. He wore, as was tradition, a set of Black family robes, embroidered with runes for protection, wealth, and love. They exchanged no rings, only blood and promises under the flickering of candles and the smoky swirl of incense.

Their voices filled the office as they spoke the words that would bind them together:

Tu es lié à moi, et moi à toi

Mon amour pour toi

Toujours pur

Et ton amour pour moi

Toujours pur

Saigne-moi, saigne-moi

Je te suivrai dans la mort

Je te suivrai dans cette vie et dans la suivante

Je te donne tout

Maintenant nous sommes un

Toujours pur

Draco sliced a thin line across her palm, and then his own. His grey eyes met her gold ones, and there he discovered not only the bravery he'd expected, but traces of so much more. Anger, to be sure, but also curiosity, and something he couldn't quite place.

Before he could investigate further, a shot of agony ran up from their joined palms through his arm. He laced his fingers through hers, as if she might ground him. She jumped, but didn't scream, as a phantom snake with pure white scales emerged from between their hands and coiled itself around them, constricting so their bodies crashed into each other. The squeezing sensation faded into tortuous heat beneath his skin, and it must've had that effect on Granger, too, because she pressed into him harder, rubbing against him, seeking relief. Draco sought her lips unthinkingly, and at first exquisite contact, the snake hissed its satisfaction and dissolved into the ether.

They burst apart as the clock chimed midnight, their breaths quick and hot. Draco wordlessly offered Granger his arm, and they Apparated into the cold air of a new day.

Later, he tried to ignore his new wife's breathy whimpers as he trailed his fingers across her satin skin. He did his duty by her, and gave her his virginity, meant for someone else. And when the ritual was complete, scattering stardust over their bodies as they turned wordlessly away from each other, he barely registered the unfathomable loss of the remains of his heart.

December 2009

The fire guttered in the grate, wrenching Draco's mind back to the present. Tears gathered at the corner of his eyes, the dry ache in his throat a prelude to a sleepless night. He smashed his empty tumbler on the hearth, firelight licking rainbows through shattered glass, and buried his face in his hands.