The village of Hogsmeade was just as wondrous as it had been when
Hermione last visited it. The fall leaves were casting colourful spells on
the trees, making the shimmer and glimmer in the September sun. Hermione
walked along the cobblestone pathway, crunching the red, orange, brown and
yellow leaves in her path. Staring at the ground, swinging her arms,
Hermione couldn't help but notice that the large diamond engagement ring,
which was still on her finger glinted in the sun more than she originally
noticed. To her, the ring symbolized so much. It wasn't just the symbol
of her engagement to Draco; it was much more than that. It was, as she saw
it through his eyes, the fact that she belonged to him. The fact that she
had taken his name and would forever be in debt to his 'good deed' by
pulling her out of a once-thought Muggle family to live amongst his riches.
And it made her positively sick to think that he could ever have thoughts like that. The friendship they had constructed during her time at Malfoy Manor made her think that maybe Draco Malfoy wasn't such a bad guy after all. But once again, in the end, she was wrong and now had to suffer the consequences.
"Can I help you find anything, dear?" The voice of the shrill little witch in the Charms shop distracted Hermione from her thoughts. Without really paying attention, she had drifted into the nearest shop and began browsing the displays.
"No, thank you," she offered back. "I'm just looking."
"Very well, dear." The witch smiled again and left her to peruse the shelves. When she left the shop and entered into the bright sunshine again, her mind drifted to other, faraway places. Like it was a time for remembering, Hermione couldn't help but think about her years at Hogwarts and how Professor Dumbledore told her in her sixth year that they would affect her for the rest of her life.
"You will see, Miss Granger," he told her in his office, "the years you spend under the roof of this castle will further direct your future. You may no longer be independent, for you have made two of the best friends anyone could have; the best friends that never leave you alone."
Hermione hadn't paid much attention to the elderly man's speech that day, but here in Hogsmeade, on her honeymoon, she reflected on what he had said and it hit home with her hard. Dumbledore was right; was there really any way she was going to be able to survive without Harry and Ron? Sure, she had been there for them all those years, to let them copy her homework and such. But they were always together, weren't they? What was she going to do now?
Feeling rather depressed and angry with herself for thinking that way, she headed back to the hotel where she met Draco in the lobby. "I was just coming to look for you," he told her, his voice rather subdued.
"Why?"
"Father sent us an owl."
"Already?"
Draco gave her a seething look. "Why must you always act so snobby?"
Hermione bristled. "You didn't think I was snobby when you helped me sneak into St. Mungo's. You didn't think I was snobby when you rescued me from your father's daily lectures. You didn't think I was snobby when I joined you for midnight talks on the bench out back of the Manor."
For a split second, Hermione was sure that she saw a flicker of dismay in Draco's eyes. But it passed as quickly as it came and he was back to his old wicked self. "Whatever," he muttered quickly, turning on his heels. "I'm going back upstairs."
Hermione brushed past him, determined not to get shafted again. "You'll have to beat me to it," she told him, hurrying up the stairs. Draco pounded up the staircase behind her and Hermione winced as she heard another voice shout in annoyance when more dust dropped on their heads.
When she reached the door to their room, she flung it open, using the magic key she had gotten from the clerk. Slamming the door in Draco's face, she leaned against it, smiling triumphantly. "Damn it!" Draco muttered on the other side of the door as he searched for the Muggle key he had been given to the room. She heard it slide into the lock and, not wanting to push her luck, she stood back from the door as it opened.
"You're a bitch, you know that?"
Hermione smiled and grabbed a bottle of water off the dresser. "I know," she answered, sitting down on the bed and taking a long swill of the water. She closed her eyes, grateful for the cool liquid and when she opened them again, she saw Draco standing close in front of her.
"What?" she asked aggressively as he stared at her, an almost hungry look in his eyes. "What are you staring at me for?"
He moved closer to her and she tightened the lid on the water bottle. Wouldn't it be a shame if it spilled on the bed? Random thoughts began popping into her mind as he moved closer to her face. He leaned down so that his nose was inches from her own.
"It's the day after our wedding," he told her in a very pointedly way.
"Yeah," she said, drawing out for time. She knew what was coming and she didn't want to confront such a subject when she was feeling already uneasy.
"We've spent an entire night together."
"You're a smart cookie," she said, holding the bottle up to him in a silent cheers motion. She considered taking another drink from the cold bottle but the look on Draco's face stopped her.
"Aren't we forgetting something?"
"Breath mints?" Hermione's joke fell on deaf ears as Draco leaned forward and kissed her, not forcefully as she had expected, but rather gently on the lips. When he pulled back, he looked shocked at his actions. He stood up quickly and Hermione waited for him to wipe his mouth and screech. But he never did and she fought the urge to wipe her own lips.
"Hermione," he said softly, leaning towards her again. His lips met hers gently, then more pressured. Something deep inside her agony soaked mind stirred and woke up. She felt herself groping at his face for more, urging him on with her moans.
"Room service!" called a voice from outside the door and Hermione broke away, breathing heavily. Flashes of Ron's smiling face from two summers ago entered her brain as the tears protruded her eyes. She jumped up, almost knocking Draco over in the process, and hurried to the washroom where she splashed cold water on her face. Outside, in the room, she could hear the clerk telling Draco that they had an escaped rat somewhere in the hotel and if they saw it, could they call the front desk as soon as possible.
Hermione ignored Draco's pleads to open the door as soon as the clerk left. "We're married," he asserted. "You had better get used to it."
"I won't!" she shouted through the closed wooden door and she heard him curse angrily. "I don't know what's going on with you," she snarled, "but whatever it is, I don't like it. One minute you're my best friend, but as soon as we're married, suddenly I'm your worst enemy. Make up your mind, Malfoy!"
The sting of her words carried through the door and Draco sighed softly. "Just get over it," he told her. "Weasley and Potter are gone. You'll never see them again, Malfoy." Hermione winced as he used the last name she had taken unwillingly. It was yet another mark, proving that she indeed did belong to him.
The rest of the honeymoon proved to be just a vile as the first day. Hermione made sure that she was out of the hotel room until very late at night, returning only when Draco was asleep. If he noticed she was trying to avoid the consummation of the marriage, he didn't say anything to her. When they left Hogsmeade a few days later, they were taken to their new home where Hermione felt immediate disgust.
Having packed their belongings before the honeymoon, someone from Malfoy Manor had dropped them off in a hurry. Their bags were scattered throughout the main hallway and Hermione did all but growl at the sight of the luggage strewn across the marble floor.
She noticed how similar this house was to Malfoy Manor. Lucius, having had most of the say during its construction, had most likely deemed it to be that way, forever reminding Hermione of the family she had gained. She sighed heavily, determined to make this empty shell feel more like a home. She began dragging the bags upstairs to unpack, certain that Draco could unpack for himself.
"Where are you going?" Draco appeared from the shadowed corner by the staircase, causing Hermione to jump and drop the bags.
"Upstairs," she answered, picking up the bags again. "In case you haven't noticed, that's where these stairs lead. And they also go downstairs as well."
Draco's face twisted into a contorted grin. "Don't take that tone with me," he told her firmly. "I won't have it in my house."
Hermione snapped. Throwing the luggage down on the first step, she stood up to him, face to face. "In case you haven't noticed this either," she told him in one breath, "I am your wife. This is your marriage house, the house you share with your wife. If you push me to the point that I leave you, Daddy will take it all away."
Draco's face remained indifferent but Hermione thought she saw a gleam of happiness in his eyes. "Go ahead, leave. I don't care."
Hermione glared back at him before backing away and carrying the bags upstairs. She was fuming at him for even suggesting such a thing. Her threat had merely been empty for she was pretty sure that the housing crew Lucius had assigned to them were also acting as spies. The second Hermione tried to escape, someone would surely alert Lucius and she would be carted back to the mansion. Why waste the energy?
At the end of the day, Hermione had managed to unpack all her belongings, which didn't seem like much in the great house. Looking around the rather empty bedroom, which consisted of a bed, two giant dressers and a nightstand on either side of the bed, she decided that it would need a woman's touch to get in order. Knowing fully that adding frilly laces and pink covers to everything would enrage Draco, she made a mental note to go into town during the next few days and stock up on 'girly' items.
Sitting down at the kitchen table, one of the few items of furniture in the house, Hermione brought out her quill and a parchment. She thought quietly before beginning her letter.
"Dear Ron, I hope everything's going well for you now that you're out of the hospital. Are you feeling okay? I promise I will try to visit as soon as I can." She looked up from her writing and glanced around the kitchen. Their housing crew had yet to be introduced to them and would arrive the following day. How could she put into the letter the pain she felt at the separation she had made from the schoolgirl she was at Hogwarts? How could she tell him how much she longed to have the days back when her biggest concern was writing a test at the end of the week? It was too much for her, emotionally and she considered going upstairs to cry. Crying always made her feel better but something deep within her stirred and she fought the urge to break down and sob.
"I will visit," she repeated, more determined this time. "Send Harry and your family my love. I'll see you soon." Then, as a postscript, she added, "What did you want to talk to me about at the hospital?" Rolling up the parchment, she tucked it away in her pocket and looked out the window across the grounds.
When she had married Draco, she had taken on more than his name. She also took on the entire Malfoy fortune. The house that Lucius had constructed for them was enormous and Hermione found it almost suffocating to think that she had to help maintain the household chores. Granted, a housing crew, including cleaning ladies, would be introduced to them the next day, but Hermione was going to go crazy sitting around doing nothing while others around her worked hard. The Malfoy family were firm believers in the male working hard and the female staying at home. Hermione didn't know how Narcissa Malfoy had done it for so long; sitting here now was driving her insane.
"I'm going to bed." Draco's blunt greeting startled Hermione and she turned suddenly. "Are you coming?"
Hermione looked around at the bare table. Draco had gone out for supper but Hermione, insisting that she wasn't hungry, declined his offer. As a peace offering, he had brought her a sandwich from the diner down the street but Hermione had put it directly in the refrigerator to save it for another day. "Yeah, I guess I'll come up," she said, nervous about sleeping in her very own house. As she stood, part of her wanted to grab Draco around the neck and jump for joy. Their very own home! It didn't matter whom you shared it with; owning your very own house created a very special feeling inside.
Draco must have noticed her happiness because as she passed him in the doorway, he commented, "You look cheerful."
"Just off in my own world right now," she replied dreamily, eager to keep the peace between them. "You know how it is."
"I guess I do," he replied. She turned on the stairs to face him behind her. "I'm not the world's toughest guy," he said to her surprised look. "I'm really not."
Once inside the bedroom, Draco closed the door softly. Hermione looked around, wondering if she really wanted to spend the rest of her life here. It was a gorgeous house, set on a wonderful piece of property, but she wasn't sure she could live up to be the wife that the Malfoys expected her to be. She wasn't one to play second fiddle and that's basically what her role as Mrs. Draco Malfoy was: to be the follower.
After she had changed in the washroom and brushed her hair, she entered the bedroom again to find Draco already in bed, the covers pulled up to his chin. He looked at her before facing the other way.
She climbed in beside him, determined not to disturb him, for fear of another row. Lying down on the cool sheets, she sighed. Here she was, in her new home, been married almost a full week, and having no desire to even go near her husband. She could hear him breathing beside her as his breaths became steeper and steadier until she was almost sure he was asleep. Rolling to face away from him, she closed her eyes and forced her brain to sleep.
And it made her positively sick to think that he could ever have thoughts like that. The friendship they had constructed during her time at Malfoy Manor made her think that maybe Draco Malfoy wasn't such a bad guy after all. But once again, in the end, she was wrong and now had to suffer the consequences.
"Can I help you find anything, dear?" The voice of the shrill little witch in the Charms shop distracted Hermione from her thoughts. Without really paying attention, she had drifted into the nearest shop and began browsing the displays.
"No, thank you," she offered back. "I'm just looking."
"Very well, dear." The witch smiled again and left her to peruse the shelves. When she left the shop and entered into the bright sunshine again, her mind drifted to other, faraway places. Like it was a time for remembering, Hermione couldn't help but think about her years at Hogwarts and how Professor Dumbledore told her in her sixth year that they would affect her for the rest of her life.
"You will see, Miss Granger," he told her in his office, "the years you spend under the roof of this castle will further direct your future. You may no longer be independent, for you have made two of the best friends anyone could have; the best friends that never leave you alone."
Hermione hadn't paid much attention to the elderly man's speech that day, but here in Hogsmeade, on her honeymoon, she reflected on what he had said and it hit home with her hard. Dumbledore was right; was there really any way she was going to be able to survive without Harry and Ron? Sure, she had been there for them all those years, to let them copy her homework and such. But they were always together, weren't they? What was she going to do now?
Feeling rather depressed and angry with herself for thinking that way, she headed back to the hotel where she met Draco in the lobby. "I was just coming to look for you," he told her, his voice rather subdued.
"Why?"
"Father sent us an owl."
"Already?"
Draco gave her a seething look. "Why must you always act so snobby?"
Hermione bristled. "You didn't think I was snobby when you helped me sneak into St. Mungo's. You didn't think I was snobby when you rescued me from your father's daily lectures. You didn't think I was snobby when I joined you for midnight talks on the bench out back of the Manor."
For a split second, Hermione was sure that she saw a flicker of dismay in Draco's eyes. But it passed as quickly as it came and he was back to his old wicked self. "Whatever," he muttered quickly, turning on his heels. "I'm going back upstairs."
Hermione brushed past him, determined not to get shafted again. "You'll have to beat me to it," she told him, hurrying up the stairs. Draco pounded up the staircase behind her and Hermione winced as she heard another voice shout in annoyance when more dust dropped on their heads.
When she reached the door to their room, she flung it open, using the magic key she had gotten from the clerk. Slamming the door in Draco's face, she leaned against it, smiling triumphantly. "Damn it!" Draco muttered on the other side of the door as he searched for the Muggle key he had been given to the room. She heard it slide into the lock and, not wanting to push her luck, she stood back from the door as it opened.
"You're a bitch, you know that?"
Hermione smiled and grabbed a bottle of water off the dresser. "I know," she answered, sitting down on the bed and taking a long swill of the water. She closed her eyes, grateful for the cool liquid and when she opened them again, she saw Draco standing close in front of her.
"What?" she asked aggressively as he stared at her, an almost hungry look in his eyes. "What are you staring at me for?"
He moved closer to her and she tightened the lid on the water bottle. Wouldn't it be a shame if it spilled on the bed? Random thoughts began popping into her mind as he moved closer to her face. He leaned down so that his nose was inches from her own.
"It's the day after our wedding," he told her in a very pointedly way.
"Yeah," she said, drawing out for time. She knew what was coming and she didn't want to confront such a subject when she was feeling already uneasy.
"We've spent an entire night together."
"You're a smart cookie," she said, holding the bottle up to him in a silent cheers motion. She considered taking another drink from the cold bottle but the look on Draco's face stopped her.
"Aren't we forgetting something?"
"Breath mints?" Hermione's joke fell on deaf ears as Draco leaned forward and kissed her, not forcefully as she had expected, but rather gently on the lips. When he pulled back, he looked shocked at his actions. He stood up quickly and Hermione waited for him to wipe his mouth and screech. But he never did and she fought the urge to wipe her own lips.
"Hermione," he said softly, leaning towards her again. His lips met hers gently, then more pressured. Something deep inside her agony soaked mind stirred and woke up. She felt herself groping at his face for more, urging him on with her moans.
"Room service!" called a voice from outside the door and Hermione broke away, breathing heavily. Flashes of Ron's smiling face from two summers ago entered her brain as the tears protruded her eyes. She jumped up, almost knocking Draco over in the process, and hurried to the washroom where she splashed cold water on her face. Outside, in the room, she could hear the clerk telling Draco that they had an escaped rat somewhere in the hotel and if they saw it, could they call the front desk as soon as possible.
Hermione ignored Draco's pleads to open the door as soon as the clerk left. "We're married," he asserted. "You had better get used to it."
"I won't!" she shouted through the closed wooden door and she heard him curse angrily. "I don't know what's going on with you," she snarled, "but whatever it is, I don't like it. One minute you're my best friend, but as soon as we're married, suddenly I'm your worst enemy. Make up your mind, Malfoy!"
The sting of her words carried through the door and Draco sighed softly. "Just get over it," he told her. "Weasley and Potter are gone. You'll never see them again, Malfoy." Hermione winced as he used the last name she had taken unwillingly. It was yet another mark, proving that she indeed did belong to him.
The rest of the honeymoon proved to be just a vile as the first day. Hermione made sure that she was out of the hotel room until very late at night, returning only when Draco was asleep. If he noticed she was trying to avoid the consummation of the marriage, he didn't say anything to her. When they left Hogsmeade a few days later, they were taken to their new home where Hermione felt immediate disgust.
Having packed their belongings before the honeymoon, someone from Malfoy Manor had dropped them off in a hurry. Their bags were scattered throughout the main hallway and Hermione did all but growl at the sight of the luggage strewn across the marble floor.
She noticed how similar this house was to Malfoy Manor. Lucius, having had most of the say during its construction, had most likely deemed it to be that way, forever reminding Hermione of the family she had gained. She sighed heavily, determined to make this empty shell feel more like a home. She began dragging the bags upstairs to unpack, certain that Draco could unpack for himself.
"Where are you going?" Draco appeared from the shadowed corner by the staircase, causing Hermione to jump and drop the bags.
"Upstairs," she answered, picking up the bags again. "In case you haven't noticed, that's where these stairs lead. And they also go downstairs as well."
Draco's face twisted into a contorted grin. "Don't take that tone with me," he told her firmly. "I won't have it in my house."
Hermione snapped. Throwing the luggage down on the first step, she stood up to him, face to face. "In case you haven't noticed this either," she told him in one breath, "I am your wife. This is your marriage house, the house you share with your wife. If you push me to the point that I leave you, Daddy will take it all away."
Draco's face remained indifferent but Hermione thought she saw a gleam of happiness in his eyes. "Go ahead, leave. I don't care."
Hermione glared back at him before backing away and carrying the bags upstairs. She was fuming at him for even suggesting such a thing. Her threat had merely been empty for she was pretty sure that the housing crew Lucius had assigned to them were also acting as spies. The second Hermione tried to escape, someone would surely alert Lucius and she would be carted back to the mansion. Why waste the energy?
At the end of the day, Hermione had managed to unpack all her belongings, which didn't seem like much in the great house. Looking around the rather empty bedroom, which consisted of a bed, two giant dressers and a nightstand on either side of the bed, she decided that it would need a woman's touch to get in order. Knowing fully that adding frilly laces and pink covers to everything would enrage Draco, she made a mental note to go into town during the next few days and stock up on 'girly' items.
Sitting down at the kitchen table, one of the few items of furniture in the house, Hermione brought out her quill and a parchment. She thought quietly before beginning her letter.
"Dear Ron, I hope everything's going well for you now that you're out of the hospital. Are you feeling okay? I promise I will try to visit as soon as I can." She looked up from her writing and glanced around the kitchen. Their housing crew had yet to be introduced to them and would arrive the following day. How could she put into the letter the pain she felt at the separation she had made from the schoolgirl she was at Hogwarts? How could she tell him how much she longed to have the days back when her biggest concern was writing a test at the end of the week? It was too much for her, emotionally and she considered going upstairs to cry. Crying always made her feel better but something deep within her stirred and she fought the urge to break down and sob.
"I will visit," she repeated, more determined this time. "Send Harry and your family my love. I'll see you soon." Then, as a postscript, she added, "What did you want to talk to me about at the hospital?" Rolling up the parchment, she tucked it away in her pocket and looked out the window across the grounds.
When she had married Draco, she had taken on more than his name. She also took on the entire Malfoy fortune. The house that Lucius had constructed for them was enormous and Hermione found it almost suffocating to think that she had to help maintain the household chores. Granted, a housing crew, including cleaning ladies, would be introduced to them the next day, but Hermione was going to go crazy sitting around doing nothing while others around her worked hard. The Malfoy family were firm believers in the male working hard and the female staying at home. Hermione didn't know how Narcissa Malfoy had done it for so long; sitting here now was driving her insane.
"I'm going to bed." Draco's blunt greeting startled Hermione and she turned suddenly. "Are you coming?"
Hermione looked around at the bare table. Draco had gone out for supper but Hermione, insisting that she wasn't hungry, declined his offer. As a peace offering, he had brought her a sandwich from the diner down the street but Hermione had put it directly in the refrigerator to save it for another day. "Yeah, I guess I'll come up," she said, nervous about sleeping in her very own house. As she stood, part of her wanted to grab Draco around the neck and jump for joy. Their very own home! It didn't matter whom you shared it with; owning your very own house created a very special feeling inside.
Draco must have noticed her happiness because as she passed him in the doorway, he commented, "You look cheerful."
"Just off in my own world right now," she replied dreamily, eager to keep the peace between them. "You know how it is."
"I guess I do," he replied. She turned on the stairs to face him behind her. "I'm not the world's toughest guy," he said to her surprised look. "I'm really not."
Once inside the bedroom, Draco closed the door softly. Hermione looked around, wondering if she really wanted to spend the rest of her life here. It was a gorgeous house, set on a wonderful piece of property, but she wasn't sure she could live up to be the wife that the Malfoys expected her to be. She wasn't one to play second fiddle and that's basically what her role as Mrs. Draco Malfoy was: to be the follower.
After she had changed in the washroom and brushed her hair, she entered the bedroom again to find Draco already in bed, the covers pulled up to his chin. He looked at her before facing the other way.
She climbed in beside him, determined not to disturb him, for fear of another row. Lying down on the cool sheets, she sighed. Here she was, in her new home, been married almost a full week, and having no desire to even go near her husband. She could hear him breathing beside her as his breaths became steeper and steadier until she was almost sure he was asleep. Rolling to face away from him, she closed her eyes and forced her brain to sleep.
