The Betrothal

Mrs. Hermione Jane Malfoy,

The Ministry of Magic would like to extend its congratulations to you. A contract has been negotiated and enacted in your behalf with the Ministry by Mr. Draco Lucius Malfoy as of this afternoon. From this moment forward, you may consider yourself betrothed to this young man. This is a time for joyous celebration, and the Ministry anticipates that you will make the most of this opportunity to unite the worlds of pure-blooded nobility and muggle-born opporunity./p

It is our duty to remind at this time of the laws which apply to a magically betrothed woman like yourself. Please remember that as of this moment, you are considered emancipated from your birth family. All previously seperate assets are now considered joint. You may consider all your needs provided for by your betrothed and his birth family. Your betrothed will not be considered emancipated until you have been marriage in a ministry-recognized ceremony, which may not take place until you have both left Hogwarts. As such, you will be considered a part of this family. You may return with your betrothed to his birth family for the holidays.

While the ministry encourages and anticipates affection between a young couple such as yourself, we do remind you that it is not permitted to consummate the relationship before the wedding ceremony-

"As if I would want to... to consummate with that slimy, grimy, evil little ferret! I can't read anymore, Ron, it's too awful. Throw it away."

"You sure you don't want to read it all? Maybe there's a loop hole?" Ron appeared stricken.

"No, I've read it all before in books. Just throw it away. I want to go back to the school."

Ron frowned, folded the letter in two, and slipped it into his pocket. "Okay if we walk back together, you reckon?"

"I don't care if its okay or not, Ron." Hermione sighed and reached out for his hand. He slipped it around hers and squeezed gently, reassuringly. He didn't know what to say.

"Sorry if I snapped at you," she murmured. Her voice was shaky and small.

He swallowed. "Sorry I... let you down," he choked.

"What are you talking about, Ron?" she asked, her voice daring him.

"I tried so hard to get the money first. I guess I should have known Malfoy would get it first, his whole family's rich as kings, and my family..." he trailed off with an embarassed shrug. Hermione glanced over at him. His eyes were downcast. He was looking at his boots - they were second-hand, she knew. She had helped him apply a leather patch into the toe before school started.

"I love your family, Ron. I'd be proud to be a Weasley someday."

"Your mum, well, all right, she's a bit loud, but Ron, she always feeds us, all of us, and always 'til we're really full, you know? And at Christmas time, she never forgets any of us, especially Harry, because she knows he hasn't got anybody else. She's brilliant. And your dad-"

Ron chuckled. "Yeah, what about my dad?"

"I'd like to be like him someday."

"Real funny, Hermione."

"I'm not kidding, Ron," she said fiercely. "Your dad believes in something and he keeps his job just because he believes in it. I'm sure there were loads of times when he could have took a more well-paying job, but it wouldn't have been meaningful or fulfilling. I know Percy says he has no ambition, but he's wrong. And your dad has put up with all kinds of criticism for it, well, he's just wonderful, isn't he?"

"You really think so?"

"Really and truly, Ron."

Ron sighed again. "But it doesn't matter. Draco still won."

"Oh, rubbish. He hasn't won anything. You'll just have to figure out how to get me out of this."

Ron squeaked, "Me?"

"Well, we'll figure it out together. All right, Ron?" Now it was her turn to squeeze his hand. "Let's go back, it's almost time to change classes. I'm not missing Defense Against the Dark Arts today."

"All right, Hermione."

They walked towards the castle together. Despite everything, Ron couldn't help but be blissfully aware of how good it felt to hold her hand. It was warm and solid and it made him feel... good. Despite everything. For a minute, he felt like he really could figure something out. He would find a loophole, or petition the minister - surely the minister of magic would understand that he and Hermione were meant to be together.

This good feeling lasted as long as it took them to reach the castle. Someone was waiting for them at the doors. Someone tall and pale and pointed.

"Granger, Weasel." His eyes went right to their interlocked fingers. Ron dropped his grasp like a hot coal. He could hear Hermione's breathing intensify.

"What do you want, Malfoy?"

"I want to talk to you." He scowled. "Just you."

"I'm a bit busy right now. I've got to go to class."

"Skive off. I want to talk to you."

"You can't make her skip class, Malfoy."

"I can. The law says I can. Tell him," Draco nodded toward Hermione encouragingly.

"He can," she answered softly, refusing to look up at either one of them.

"Well, the law can't really stop me from staying here, can it?"

"Ron, I don't want you to get in trouble."

"Hermione-"

"Please explain to Professor Dumbledore why I'm not in class, Ron."

"But-"

"Just go, Ron." She still refused to look at him.

"All right," he answered, obviously hurt. "I'll catch you later, Malfoy," he said.

"Whatever, Weasel." Draco watched Ron retreat into the castle with a victorious expression. Then he turned his gaze to Hermione. "Granger. Guess I can't exactly call you that anymore, can I?" He grinned and reached out to touch one of the curls of brown hair that was resting on her cheek. "Just Malfoy doesn't sound right, though, does it? That's what you call me. What shall I call you, then?"

"Take your ferrety little paws off of me, Malfoy," she answered through clenched teeth. "Or I'll hex you into next Tuesday."

"Wouldn't really matter, would it?" he asked softly. "On Tuesday you'll still be my wife."

"I'm not and never will be your wife, Malfoy," she spat. "A legal technicality is calling me your betrothed but we are not married and we never will be so get the idea out of your head right now."

"Don't get fresh with me, Granger," he snapped. He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her gently. "Wouldn't want to have to muzzle you... but then again... you might like that... something to think about, hmmm..?"

"Get your damned hands off of me, Draco," she growled. "Just because..." she shook loose from his grasp and stepped away, "...doesn't mean you're suddenly allowed to do whatever you want to me. You're not, you know, it says so right in the contract, not until we're married.."

"Just remember this, Granger... beloved," he lifted his eyebrows dangerously, "No one else is allowed to touch you at all. If I find you hand in hand with the Weasel again, I'll have him brought before the Wizengamot, and he'll be in Azkaban before you can say another word."

Hermione glared at him with a look of pure hatred. "You leave Ron alone, Draco, I mean it... you're lucky I made him go to class. He'd have torn you into pieces if he saw you right now."

"I'm not scared of the red-headed retard, if that's what you think," he answered. "So it's Draco, now, hmmm? Warming up a bit, are we?" His expression softened. "Try to relax a little, beloved... you might find you rather like belonging to me..." He snapped his fingers once. Hermione felt the warm clench of something encircling her neck.

"What is this? A bloody collar?"

"No, stupid. It's a choker."

"A what?"

"A choker. It's just a necklace, Hermione. It has the Malfoy family crest on it."

"How deliciously evil," Hermione answered sarcastically.

"It's a gift. It's extremely valuable. Pansy'll wet herself when she sees I gave it to you."

"Well, that's something, I suppose." Hermione rolled her eyes. She ran her fingers along her neck. "It feels awfully like a collar to me. How do you take it off?"

"Don't. I want you to wear it."

"It's not comfortable."

"That's a command, Granger," he answered hesitantly. "Wear it."

Hermione bit her lip. "Why are you doing this? I realize it's a brilliant chance to torment me, but aren't you going a little bit overboard? I don't get it."

He stepped closer to her now, until she was backed against the door. "First of all, beloved, like you say, it's a brilliant chance. Not to torment you, though. Not even Weasel-boy, really. It's mostly Saint Potter that I'm after. If you paid attention at all, you'd know that."

"Why Harry?"

"It's because of your precious Potter that my father's reputation is what it is, not to mention-"

"It's your father's own fault for being a deatheater, Malfoy. What a shame you're not bright enough to realise that and not repeat his mistakes."

"-and besides all that," he continued, cutting her off. "I don't know if you'd realised it, but aside from me you're the cleverest witch in our year."

"Yes, you are a clever little witch, aren't you," she murmured.

"-and our children will be absolutely perfect," he finished, ignoring her. "the new law makes you blood of my blood, so marrying me will make you a legal pure-blood. You ought to be proud."

"I don't care about blood."

"I don't understand that," he admitted.

"I don't care if you understand it or not."

Suddenly the huge door next to the swung open and a tall, black figure stepped out of it. "Mr. Malfoy. Miss Granger. What are you doing out of class?"

"Professor Snape!" Hermione saw a moment's panic in Draco's eyes. "We were... we were discussing our contract."

"What contract?" Snape asked coolly.

"The ministry has accepted my petition for betrothal, sir."

"To Miss Granger?"

"It's Malfoy now, sir. She takes my name immediately."

"I see." Professor Snape's gaze rested on her momentarily and his right eye twitched. "Congratulations, Mrs. Malfoy." He paused. "Welcome to Slytherin House."

Hermione felt her heart sink to the bottom of her stomach. "Thank you, sir," she answered.

"However, that does not excuse you from being out of class. I ask again, Mr Malfoy, why are you out of class?"

Draco hesitated.

"Detention, then, with me, tonight, Mr. Malfoy, and-"

"Sir, it's not my fault, I-" Hermione pleaded.

"Miss Malfoy, you you return to class while I work out Mr. Malfoy's detention."

"Thank you, sir," Hermione could hardly believe her luck.

"Remember, you are a Slytherin now. Behave yourself according. Come and see me before dinner and I will give you a revised schedule of classes."

Hermione ran as fast as her legs could carry her. Professor Dumbledore was already teaching the class, but he merely nodded at her when she entered the classroom. Her usual seat beside Ron was still sitting empty. She sat down and pulled out her book.

Ron passed a small slip of parchment over to her. "We're on page 35," it read.

"Thanks," she wrote back.

"Are you okay?"

"Pay attention, Ron."

"Did he hurt you?"

"NO."

"What's wrong?"

Hermione glared at him.

He smiled sheepishly and shrugged.

She glared at him again, then let her eyes slowly travel down to her school uniform. The fingers of her left hand were finger her school tie.

His jaw droppped.

Her tie was green and silver.