THE LOAN

Chapter 1

Hermione tried thinking of flowers, but could only construe wilted ones. She tried thinking of books - they often left her satisfied - but could only fathom the disappointing ones. She tried thinking of people she loved, but fell short.

Didn't she love anyone? She certainly said the words often enough; they were familiar territory to her raspy tongue. She pondered over this, and many other things, like the expensive velveteen beret of the Ministry official who had asked those waiting to follow her into another room. She'd seen that exact same hat at Madam Malkin's. She'd picked it up and tried it on, and her reflection had assured her that it would be a good buy; as luck would have it, her pockets had revolted. Alas, the woes of the bourgeois. Alas, indeed.

The official had turned out to be just a paltry, insignificant little secretary, after all. Hermione wondered how she could afford a hat like that.

In fact, every worker at the Ministry of Magic seemed dressed to the nines, walking about in their pointed boots, click-clacking busily on the spotless marble floors as there was, indeed, a lot of bustling to be done, many dreams to be crushed, many rights to be taken away, and many lives to be destroyed.

Like dumb cattle, the women fortunate enough to have been called upon to evoke this noble deed were made to sit again, professional looking folders in their hands now, and Hermione snapped hers open without so much as a second thought. Why delay the inevitable?

She could've screamed. She could've laughed. She could've sworn that this was just another one of life's cruel jokes – an endless barrage of hurdles thrown her way, that only seemed to intensify in size as time flew her by.

The photo of a handsome couple stared back at her. She recognized them well enough. The man was rumoured the richest in wizarding Britain, the woman the prettiest. With the world under their footsteps and the sky at their disposal, she could only imagine how disappointed they'd been when they'd seen the undeserving womb which had been chosen for them.

She chuckled and rubbed her thumb against the tawdry cursive that blatantly screamed out the names of her owners. Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy.

She read out the address to the driver of the Knight Bus, who gave her a look of pity, and within a second, her turbulently ridden self was made to stand before the intimidating wrought iron doors to hell.

'Why, I never thought I'd see the day!' she muttered to herself, curtsying to the peacock that gawked at her insolently through the bars. 'Hello, to you, too, I do think your masters will be mighty pleased to see me. They will, if they want their heir. Although, perhaps, the quality of his carrier will not be to their satisfaction - what do you think?'

'I think that Ms. Granger should not spend her time talking to herself, it is rumoured to be quite the sign of insanity.'

She gasped, and came face to face with the man she was honouring with her superior genes and healthy uterus.

'I do hope the baby doesn't have your hair,' he pointed out with a polite look on his face, running a conscious hand over his own cautiously put together mane.

Alas, the woes of the bourgeois.

-X-X-X-

'This is going to be your room for the next…for however long it takes,' Draco Malfoy finished, gesturing towards a room grander than her entire apartment.

She nodded, trying not to look impressed with the Baroque style architecture that reeked of entitlement and good fortune. She definitely wasn't impressed with the way he wasn't impressed with her. Probably found her old, out-of-fashion robes dreary and miserable. He certainly wasn't impressed with the nonchalance she'd decided to display at everything. No "Ooh!" at the Grand Foyer, no "Incredible!" at the Sweeping Staircase, no gob smacked "Gosh!" at the Charming Chandelier, and certainly, no incredulous wonder at being granted such a boon as to provide the ever-important Malfoy family with an heir.

'If you need anything, ring that bell, by the bedside table, and a house-elf will be at your service.'

'I'm capable of fetching and carrying for myself, thank you,' she replied haughtily, moving to sit gingerly on the edge of the bed. She sank right in, and had to grip the bed sheet for support.

'Very well, then.' He snapped his fingers and a servile elf appeared, bowing to the floor in eternal gratitude.

'How shall Missy serve its kind Master?' it croaked, still very interested in having its nose get thoroughly acquainted with the wooden floorboards.

'I shall not need you to bring Ms. Granger's belongings upstairs, Missy, the madam says she is quite capable of fetching and carrying for herself.'

'But that cannot be! Missy is bound to serve her wonderful Master.'

'And as your Master,' Draco said, bitingly, 'I am ordering you to not bring her luggage up the stairs.'

'But…but I already did. Madam's bags are outside the room, I very much apologise.'

'Well then, you are to take them back down, and immediately so.'

Missy looked up, her wide eyes popping out of her emaciated face. 'Are – are you certain, Master Draco, I –'

'Oh, just do as he says,' Hermione snapped. 'And thank you,' she added.

Missy nodded and vanished with a resounding crack.

'The library is at your disposal,' Draco said, shoving his hands inside the pockets of his three-piece.

'Draco Malfoy in a suit,' Hermione spat out. 'Never thought I'd live to see the day.'

'Hermione Granger at my mercy,' he bit back forcefully. 'Never thought I'd live to see the day, but here we are.'

She snorted. 'Here we fucking are.'

'We don't have to make this hard.'

'Oh, you mean harder than it already is?' she asked, her mouth set in a firm line.

'I'll behave if you do,' he sighed.

'Well, I suppose it's a good thing I never really learnt how to,' she shrugged, lying back onto the alluring bed.

His eyes hardened. He stepped up to the side of the majestic four-post, and crouched down so that he was now eye-level with her. 'You'll learn. Oh, yes, you will.'

She stared back at him in a fearless stupor, and she blamed the solitary tear that escaped her blazing eye on the intense glaring-match that was occurring between them.

His nostrils flared at the offending drop, and he leapt up in a rush. 'The healer will be here tomorrow afternoon - sometime around twelve. You are expected to make your presence known in the living room on the first floor.' He started walking towards the door.

'Where's your wife? Didn't she have the decency to come out and greet me? I mean, I am the mother of her unborn child,' Hermione laughed, turning onto her side so that she now lay facing his retreating back.

He stopped at the door and turned his head to look at her, then slammed the door behind him, leaving her to her thoughts and the room's superior furniture that she didn't know how to appreciate.

-X-X-X-

She sat before the mirror and brushed her hair, picking at the strands aimlessly. She wished to delay her meeting with the healer for as long as she could, but she knew it was for naught. She moved to go, when a thought struck her fancy.

The look on his face was worth it, she decided, as she leaned down to air-kiss his cheeks as greeting.

'Isn't that how you lot do it?' she whispered in his ear with her ruby-red lips which were quite the talk of the hour. 'You'll have to excuse me, I'm quite behind on my "how to behave like a pretentious arse" classes.'

He inhaled resentfully, and gripped her wrist, pulling her into the room he'd designated for the healer to see her in.

'Here she is, Healer Diddle, now perform your tests.' He pushed her onto a seat before a kind looking man of about fifty, whose graying hairs stuck out in all directions errantly, peaceful eyes sparkling behind gold-rimmed spectacles.

'Ms. Granger, I assume?' he asked, peering at her closely, looking her up and down.

'If I may answer, Master?' she replied, looking at Draco with narrowed eyes.

'Granger, please –'

'Well, I'm quite sure that Mr. Malfoy here has no qualms about you speaking, it is, of course, still a free country,' the healer interrupted, shooting Hermione a stern glare.

'If that's what everyone's calling it nowadays,' she replied, meeting the gaze of the doctor unflinchingly. 'Go on, then, perform your tests.'

'Mr. Malfoy, if you could so kindly wait outside,' the healer requested.

'Why?' he asked anxiously.

'Well, Malfoy, unless you're interested in my menstrual cycle and other such state of affairs, I don't see why you'd have any business here.'

'Right, of course,' he said apologetically, and stalked out of the room with a regal grace Hermione envied.

He waited outside for a while, then felt foolish for standing about consciously in his own home, and retreated to his private chambers until he was called for.

The healer found him a while later, in the parlour that was connected to his room, and Draco offered him a cup of tea which he eagerly accepted.

'How do you take your tea, Mr. Diddle, black or white?'

'White, please, with a spoonful of sugar. Yes, that's quite enough, thanks ever so much. I see that it's whiskey for you, though, eh, Mr. Malfoy?'

'So?' Draco enquired after he'd sipped at his tea for a leisurely two minutes.

'So?'

'I'm sorry, Healer Diddle, but I think you're mistaken if you think I've invited you to tea just to make chit-chat. I'm asking for results.'

'Oh, yes,' he replied, mortified. 'Well, as I've already said before, the Ministry is pairing women with couples on the basis of tests performed on their blood swatches, and, obviously, Ms. Granger's was the best fit for you and the missus. As evaluated by me just now, she's "suitable," certainly, but nowhere near healthy. She smokes, hardly eats anything substantial, and her alcohol intake is far above what you would expect of from a woman. That being said, however, it's nothing time won't heal, and, of course, once she's impregnated, she'll be sure to take good care of both herself and the baby.'

'Oh, I wouldn't count on it,' Draco muttered. He was surprised, to say the least – he'd never expected his prissy, swotty, uppity classmate to be a heavy drinker and smoker, but, then again, he hardly knew her.

'What was that?' the healer asked, his interest piqued.

'Nothing. Tell me, though, is she ready?'

'Ah, that does seem to be the question on everyone's tongues, nowadays. In a word, yes, but it takes a lot more than intercourse to ensure the fertilization of an egg, Mr. Malfoy.'

'I'm well aware, Diddle.'

'Well, then, you should also be aware that the young lady is currently ovulating.'

'Is that so?' Draco mused, raising a perfect brow, bringing his glass to his lips.

'You'll be pleased to know that I've mapped out an easy-to-understand chart on what times it will be best for it to take place – you can be sure that it will take a few tries at least – only the wildly lucky ones conceive on the first try. You can just hope.'

'I sure can,' Draco muttered, raising a glass to the man before him, before nursing it to himself pathetically.

-X-X-X-

A/N – Oh, I am in absolute love with this idea – yes, a kind of an adaptation of The Handmaid's Tale - albeit, an idea that's been around on the website for quite some time now.

Many thanks to all those who read and reviewed – roon0, Guest, Rapidasher and swagatamalfoy.

Guest, to answer your question and tend to your concerns, yes, it is an adaptation of Margaret Atwood's brilliant novel, but with a little twist for our protagonists. Without giving away much, I can only hope you'll stick around, if only to discover that perhaps you may be able to stomach it after all.

Read and Review!