Hermione was right that it hadn't taken much time at all for the news of whom she truly was to become widely known. She had hoped for more time, but alas—when she got the letters from Harry, Ginny and a Howler from Ron less than a week later, she sighed in defeat.

Harry's letter had been filled with questions, and while he didn't seem too upset nor hurt—he was curious as to the particulars.

Ginny was floored!

She'd wanted to know if what the Daily Prophet was reporting on was true—that she truly was the Lady Alphonse—the only child of the Grand Duke Pierre Alphonse. Hermione had written her back and explained that she was indeed the very one, and that she would explain as soon as her Father gave his permission. She went on to share that she was in France, and wouldn't be returning to London anytime soon.

Ronald, however—had lost the plot and had sent her a scathing Howler—demanding answers and screaming his hurt at being lied to. Towards the end, someone must've smacked him upside the head, because his shout of 'Hey!' was the last word before the Howler exploded in a cloud of dust...

...when she'd incinerated it with distinction.

How in the world did she ever think she and Ron were well-suited?

It must've been the forced cohabitation for months on end, as well as the lack of sleep and food.

Not to mention wearing a bloody horcrux around her neck.

Her Father had just watched the missive explode as he took a small sip of his espresso, clearly unhappy.

"This Ronald Weasley? Please tell me that you've finally decided that young wizard is not worth your time?"

"If I'd hadn't, that letter would've cinched it, Papa."

"Good. Because I can't in all good conscious allow my daughter to marry such a ruffian! How uncouth."

The Daily Prophet's article that had come out the following day however, had left Hermione feeling even more on edge. There was invasive speculation as to why she'd kept her heritage a secret. There was also mention of her Mother's death, and the mysterious circumstances surrounding it. This included information on how the Royalists were continuing to make headway into both the Magical and Muggle world, in an effort to see the Noblesse reinstated to its rightful place. Her Father, being the Grand Duke and the rightful heir to the French crown (and her subsequent heritage as being his only heir), was cause for much gossip, it would seem.

There was so much to unpack, that it made Hermione's head swim.

"I don't think I want to go back." She said at last. "If it was bad before, just being Hermione Granger? I simply can't imagine what it will be like now. I'd rather stay here in France."

Pierre chuckled, but didn't reply immediately, as he too—perused through the Prophet and clucked in disgust at some of the more outlandish commentary by this Rita Skeeter.

"Didn't you trap her in a mason jar the end of your fourth year for several weeks?"

"I did."

"Perhaps you might seek to do so again? The witch is clearly unhinged."

"You wouldn't mind?"

"Not especially."

Hermione took a sip of her tea, but her lifted eyebrow betrayed her outer calmness. She actually believed her Father, that he wouldn't care one way or the other, and she was tempted.

Sorely tempted...

"I'll think about it." Was all she replied with, and her Father smirked, but left it alone.

"What do you have planned for today?" He asked after a while.

"I'd thought I'd go riding this morning. I've missed Zephyr, and thought it would be good to spend some quality time with him today."

"I think that's an excellent suggestion." Pierre nodded, then turned to his manservant Jean Paul as the older gentleman sauntered into the room.

"Your Grace, I have some correspondence for you to look at."

"Very well."

Pierre gestured accordingly, and Jean Paul set the missives down next to his employer before nodding to Hermione and leaving them to finish their breakfast in peace.

Picking up the first letter, Pierre huffed as he set it aside. The second and third were summarily dismissed as well, but the final one he opened immediately—scowling at the parchment as if it he'd found it personally offensive, before sighing in disgust.

"I must see to this immediately."

"Is everything alright, Papa?"

"I'm unsure, my Angel. Enjoy your day and I will see you at dinner."

"Of course."

Hermione watched her Father leave, clearly not interested in finishing his breakfast. Once she was done, she set her napkin down next to her plate and went to dress in her riding gear for the morning.

Making her way to the stables, she said hello to the groundskeeper and the stable hands who attended to the horses. Her Friesian Zephyr, was solid black and quite a spirited one—he had been given to her when she was nine and they had bonded quickly—but Zephyr was of a particular temperament, and he only allowed Hermione to ride him.

When she entered the stables, she heard the neighing sounds of Zephyr as he stuck his head out of his stall.

"Hello, boy." She walked over with a red apple and gave it to him, smiling when he took it eagerly and chomped it down before he nuzzled his large nose into her hair. "I've missed you too. How about a ride today?"

Zephyr huffed and nodded his head, completely understanding of Hermione's intent. She led him out of his stall and over to the paddock where her English side saddle was set out for her. Once everything was in place, she mounted Zephyr and headed for their favorite ride along the countryside.

The Alphonse grounds were located just outside of Paris, between Versailles and Marly-le-Roi. The grounds boasted about seventy acres of pristine forests and gardens, a river and a small lake. The main home was called Ville Fleur Étoile, and had fourteen bedrooms and was approximately 14,000 square feet. There were three carriage houses on the property as well as ten greenhouses and a small winery.

As she rode through the cedars and grasses, across the bridge and down to the lake, Hermione felt her worries wash away. This was her home. This was where she belonged and as much as she loved her friends, she had no desire to return to Britain anytime soon.

Moving down the path, she finally came to her favored spot and pulled up on the reins, halting Zephyr's gait to a slow trot. Him chuffing at his bit, let Hermione know he had missed this as much as she had.

Dismounting, she grabbed her beaded bag and pulled out a bottle of water and a few apples. Giving one to Zephyr, she led him towards her favorite tree and then set him to graze while she pulled out a blanket and book and settled down for a quiet afternoon of reading.

By the time she'd started to feel the first pangs of hunger, the sun was dipping low into the sky. Smiling gently, she picked up her items, put them away and headed for home.

As the stables came into view, Hermione's eyes widened when she saw her Father standing there waiting for her...but it wasn't him that made her face drop—it was the wizard standing next to him.

What in the fuck was Lucius Malfoy doing here?

Pulling up Zephyr to a complete halt, she dismounted easily and handed the reins over to Bertrand, the stable master—before walking with purpose towards her Father.

"Father?" Her voice was curt. "Might I ask why he is here?"

Pierre didn't need to know how upset his child was. She had finally shared with him what had occurred during the war, including her subsequent capture and torture at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange. If the woman hadn't been killed, he would've seen to it himself. Unfortunately, there was a far more pressing problem to deal with.

"Hermione, I will need you to make yourself presentable and meet with us inside."

"Why?" She folded her arms stubbornly across her chest. "And why isn't he in Azkaban?"

Pierre's gaze narrowed, but he knew his daughter well enough that she would need some kind of explanation before she'd comply.

Unfortunately, this was not a conversation he wanted to have out in the open.

"I'm sure we can explain all of this inside." Pierre lifted his hand to still his daughter's rebuttal. "Thirty minutes, Angel, and not a second longer."

"Of course, Papa." She bowed her head, glared at the blonde man next to her Father, and stormed back into the chateau with her head held high.

Pierre watched his daughter go, and then turned his weighted gaze onto the wizard next to him.

"You do realize that my daughter will likely curse you and your son, once the truth comes out?"

Lucius bowed his head subtly, the Malfoy smirk quirking—threatening to break free. "I can just imagine her feelings on the subject."

"And your son?"

"Has no idea." Lucius stated haughtily. "I had forgotten the existence of the contract until my Father's portrait reminded me the day the Prophet article came out. That our Great-Great Grandfather's, decided this nearly one hundred and seventy years ago? I can't imagine my son..."

"He was rather unkind to my daughter," Pierre interrupted as he growled out lowly, "and whilst this is a blood contract, nothing short of that, would have ever forced me into allowing this farce to occur."

Lucius bristled in anger, feeling censured for his part in the war and what had happened to Hermione Alphonse in his home. However, that notwithstanding, it didn't make the circumstances of the blood pact any more palatable.

"You chose to hide your child as a Muggleborn, Pierre! I simply can't abide such a thing myself!"

"Too bad, Lucius." Pierre bit back. "My Angelique was murdered and I feared for Hermione. Do you think it was an easy choice to make? Especially knowing that your Master would be returning? Don't you believe I would've preferred her to attend Beauxbatons? Which would've been her rightful place! But she was an unknowing target here, and my choices were limited. I chose to hide her in plain sight, hoping against hope that she would be overlooked. But then she was sorted into Gryffindor despite my belief she'd go elsewhere, and then to compound the issue? She had to make friends with that Potter lad, and her loyalty refused to allow her to leave his side, despite my feelings on the matter!"

"And yet, she survived—persevered, and is now the Heroine of the Wizarding World. Quite a coup, Pierre, wouldn't you agree? It will definitely make your claim to the French Throne more welcoming amongst the magical elite."

Pierre glowered in ire at the younger wizard. "My claim was never in doubt, Lucius. I am the rightful heir and my daughter will have her heritage restored to her as is her birthright. She will be the Grand Duchess Alphonse and trust me when I tell you that anyone who tries to harm her will deal with my wrath. I may not be able to take my retribution out on you and your family due to the blood pact, but I'm not without my own powers, Lucius. Why do you think your Dark Lord stayed out of France? You would do well to remember just whom you're addressing!"

Lucius swallowed and paled slightly, but tilted his head in acquiescence. "I did not mean to offer offense."

"Your mere presence here offends me, but my hands are tied in this one instance. For myself? I'll admit that I'm rather looking forward to seeing my daughter making your son, squirm. It should provide good theatre, if nothing else."

Pierre then smirked evilly as he gestured his hand outwards for the Malfoy Lord to precede him into his home.

He just hoped his daughter wouldn't be too angry, when he told her the unwelcome news...

Thirty minutes later...

Hermione sat across from her Father and fumed silently.

How in Merlin and Morgana had this been allowed to happen?

She stared down at her Vinewood wand, that had been returned to her by Lucius bloody Malfoy, and she desperately wanted to hex the man. By the smug look on his face, she was fairly certain he knew it too!

"This is not to be borne!" She hissed out at last. "I will not marry that ferret!" Her amber eyes then locked onto the elder Malfoy. "I will not be related to him!"

"Hermione..."

"Do you think my own son will be happy with this development?" Lucius drawled out arrogantly. "He was seeing a witch before this mess with the Dark Lord occurred. By all accounts, I do believe he was planning on courting her given the proper opportunity."

"Smashing for him!" Hermione bit out waspishly, ignoring her Father's grin. "Perhaps you might send my condolences to the poor witch. Would this be Pansy Parkinson, by any chance? They were perfectly suited for each other, after all."

Lucius sighed heavily. "No, if you must know—it was Astoria Greengrass."

Hermione folded her arms and shrugged. She knew of Daphne Greengrass, but had no knowledge of the younger sister.

"Did she attend Hogwarts?"

"Yes. She's two years Draco's junior."

"Isn't there anyway to break this betrothal, Father?" Hermione turned towards her parent in desperation. "Some clause that states being tortured in their home negates the contract?"

"On the contrary, Miss Alphonse," Lucius smirked, "the wards of the Manor likely recognized your blood the moment it was spilt. If there had been a loophole to be exploited, the moment you were tortured in my ancestral home, any possibilities to negate this travesty would've been foregone."

"Lovely," Hermione grit out scathingly, "and how touching! And vile!" She stood up and headed towards the window, that gave a spectacular view of the rose gardens below. "I loathe your son, and I have no doubt he feels very much the same about me. We will likely kill each other!"

"Nonsense, Angel. The blood contract forbids it." Her Father demurred blithely.

"It didn't forbid me being tortured in their home though, now did it?"

"They didn't do the torturing. Or at least your torture wasn't by the hand of an actual Malfoy."

Hermione turned around with a curious lifted eyebrow. "And if they'd had?"

Pierre grinned. "Death."

"Mores the pity," Hermione replied saucily, "That would've been my get out of jail free card?"

"Something like that." Her Father nodded.

"I take it Malfoy doesn't know about the happy news yet?" Hermione's voice was laced with sarcasm.

"No, he does not."

"Well, good luck with that. Don't you have a trial coming up soon? Maybe you'll both end up in Azkaban, and I'll be free?"

"One could only hope that would be the case, my Angel," Pierre replied before Lucius could speak, "however, due to the contract it would seem that it makes the situation a bit more precarious. Blood contracts, especially ones such as these are similar to Life Debts."

Hermione paled in horror, understanding clouding her expression.

"You've got to be joking?"

"Sadly, not." Pierre lamented with a wave of his hand. "It might be advisable for you both to formally meet before the press gets ahold of the particulars, but something tells me that's not going to happen."

"I need to speak with Harry, Papa."

"Why?"

"Because I would like him to hear the unfortunate news from me?" Hermione's words were laced with disdain. "I'm sure he'll want to congratulate me properly."

"More like he will offer to make the Malfoy boy disappear, and no one would question the Boy Who Lived?"

Hermione's smirk and Lucius sneer were about what Pierre had expected.

"I will allow Mr. Potter to come here and you may speak with him tomorrow." Hermione's father then addressed Lucius directly. "I will speak with Kingsley Shacklebolt as well. Once the particulars have been met, we will have you over for dinner soon."

"We will be looking forward to it." Lucius drawled arrogantly as he followed Pierre and stood. "I will explain the circumstances to my son."

Hermione's scoff was soft, but Pierre heard it as did Lucius. The Malfoy Lord chose to ignore it however, as he bowed formally and was then escorted from the room by Jean Paul. Once he was gone, Pierre turned to his daughter, who's eyes were filling with reluctant tears.

"How am I supposed to be alright with this, Papa?"

Moving over and enveloping her into his embrace, Pierre held his daughter's shaking form.

"You're not supposed to be, and I would give all that I have to spare you this fate, Angel— but I cannot. To do so would strip us both of our magic, and as much as I detest the thought of you marrying that boy—I will not have you sacrifice your magic!"

"Nor I you." Hermione mumbled as she buried her head into her Father's chest and sighed in resignation. "Thank you for allowing Harry to come here."

"You're welcome." Pierre pulled back slightly and wiped the tears from his daughter's cheeks. "I don't suppose Lucius will have an easier time of this?"

"No," Hermione shook her head emphatically, "I'd meant it when I said that Malfoy hates me. He's never made any secret of how he's felt about me. Yes, much of that was due to my blood status as he perceived it, but it wasn't just that."

"And you?"

"Loathe him just as much."

Pierre didn't reply, and he didn't need to. He was fairly certain that this situation would end up testing the good will of all involved.

Assuming there was any to be had in the first place.

When Lucius returned home, his family was waiting for him. His wife and son had been surprised when he'd told them of his visit to the Alphonse home, as they were all on house arrest until their trial date in less than a week's time. But Shacklebolt had approved the visit, under the circumstances. It was to be a one time concession, at least until they could figure out what would happen with the contract and how it would affect their supposed trial.

When he entered his study, both Narcissa and Draco were sitting together, reading quietly. As he sat down behind his desk, he removed his cloak, gloves and set his cane down. He then sat back and closed his eyes in silent preparation of the drama that was about to unfold. His Father's portrait coughed loudly to get his attention, and Lucius almost wanted to set the blasted thing on fire!

He'd rather not known about this at all.

"Lucius?" Narcissa's voice was clearly worried. "Are you alright?"

"No, my love. I am not." He sat forward and placed his arms on his desk, eyeing this wife and son warily. "As you both know, I went to Ville Fleur Etoille today to speak with the Grand Duke."

"Is it true?" Draco asked lowly.

"About Miss Granger?"

Draco nodded and Lucius returned the gesture, watching his son's face pale.

"She is the Lady Alphonse. The rightful heir, to the French Throne. If I hadn't seen her myself at her Father's side, I wouldn't have believed it despite the reporting."

"Why did they keep her identity hidden?" Narcissa inquired in confusion.

"Pierre mentioned Angelique's death, and there was reason to believe that she'd been murdered. The Royalists have been making inroads for a while, trying to reinstate the French Monarchy and he believed her death may have been linked to factions that opposed that possibility. I got the impression Dumbledore might've convinced Pierre that he could protect Miss Alphonse by hiding her in plain sight. Perhaps, had she not befriended Potter, that might've been true. If she had been sorted into Ravenclaw, and I believe strongly that Pierre surmised that to be the likely scenario—she never would've raised to the level of notoriety as Potter's mudblood best friend."

"That still doesn't explain why you went there, Father?"

"No, Draco, it doesn't." Lucius grimaced and sat back in defeat.

"Just tell the boy, Lucius!" Abraxas portrait hissed. "You coddle him too much!"

Groaning deeply, Lucius stared in defeat over his shoulder at his Father, while Draco demanded angrily, "What is he talking about, Father?"

"You are promised to the Alphonse witch, Grandson." Abraxas replied haughtily, before Lucius could silence him. "Blood contract meted out by my Great-Grandfather Macrinus and Louis Alphonse nearly two hundred years ago."

Draco's face paled even further as he gaped at his grandfather, while Narcissa hissed in shock.

"Is this some sick joke?" Draco blurted out venomously, now staring irately at his Father—waiting for him to say that this was all some sort of sick prank!

"I'm afraid it's not, Draco." Lucius replied evenly.

"But I was seeing Tori!" Draco lamented with a growl. "I was hoping to..."

"I know, Draco, and I even conveyed that part to Miss Alphonse."

"What was her reaction?" Narcissa inquired softly.

"She offered her condolences to the witch in question."

Draco sneered as he stood up in self-righteous anger and began to pace around the room, murmuring unkind things under his breath like vicious swot and insufferable know it all...strangely, Lucius thought, he refrained from using the M word.

"I can't marry that witch, Father! I loathe her!"

"Trust me, Draco," Lucius replied, "she feels exactly the same about you. I believe her words were along the lines of—quote, 'I will not marry that ferret' endquote."

Draco snarled again, as he stormed out of the study and slammed the door with distinction, leaving his parents staring morosely after him.

"Lucius, isn't there something we can do?"

"No there isn't, my love." Lucius sighed heavily. "And even if there was, the fact that this contract exists? It is likely enough reason to secure Draco and myself from serving time in Azkaban."

"I hadn't thought of that." Narcissa tutted thoughtfully, before she stood herself and made her way over to her husband, allowing him to seat her on his lap. "I just feel bad for our Son. He's had so many of his choices taken from him."

"Do you think his heart was truly settled on Miss Greengrass?"

"I don't know. I do know that they became friendly Draco's fifth year but after what had happened sixth year, he placed some distance between them and then Randolph left for France with the girls after Dumbledore was killed. I think he was concerned his girls would be targeted by some of the more depraved of the Dark Lord's followers."

"Are they still in France?"

"To my knowledge," Narcissa nodded, "but Draco has written to Astoria on occasion. I do believe he was waiting to see what the outcome of the trials were, before making his sentiments known."

"There's nothing for it, Cissy. I've read through the contract, and I can't find a loophole."

"That's because there isn't one." Abraxas interrupted with a snort. "Since the contract was open ended, due to the fact that there hadn't been a female born into either line in several centuries...it didn't specify fidelity as a requirement for either party, so if Draco wishes to take a Mistress after the sufficient heirs are sired—he may do so."

"And Miss Alphonse?" Lucius inquired.

"She would have that right as well."

"Is there a consummation clause, Lucius?"

"There is."

"Purity clause?"

"That too."

"If Draco were to break the clause?"

"He'd lose his magic."

Narcissa shook her head in resignation, clearly not happy about this unfortunate turn of events.

"How long do they have until they have to marry?"

"Once the contract is filed with the Ministry, they have a year to wed."

"And to produce an heir?"

"Surprisingly, that was left open ended. There was not an exact time frame specified, other than an heir for both lines would be required."

"But, Luc! The Malfoy line hasn't sired more than a single heir in eleven generations!"

"I know that, darling. The Alphonse line has however, so it may be possible. Pierre mentioned having us over for dinner sometime in the near future and I'm certain under the circumstances, that Shacklebolt will allow it."

"How is Pierre taking this news?"

"He's not pleased," Lucius sighed, "he sees our family's current status as a blight as well as what occurred here in our home to his daughter as unforgivable. I got the impression he would've sought out swift retribution, had it not been for the contract being in place."

"The Alphonse line, as much as they pretend to be tolerant, have much hidden Dark magic within its history," Abraxas drawled uneasily, "and that was the main reason my Great Grandfather sought out the contract. He felt if an alliance was forged, it would seek to rejoin the Malfoy line back to its roots, so to speak."

"I can't imagine he could've for-seen this situation, Father."

"Certainly not, but there is nothing for it! They will be married, despite Draco's feelings on the matter."

His Father spat out the word 'feelings' with such distaste, it made Lucius flinch.

He'd always been a right piece of work.

"Perhaps, it would be best if I spoke with our son?" Narcissa offered sincerely, "If for no other reason than I'm sure I can make him see reason."

"Good luck with that." Abraxas snarled, and Lucius sighed as he nodded once to his wife, accepting her affections before she removed herself from his study, to seek out their son.

"This marriage will be fortuitous for our line, Lucius."

"Under any other circumstances, I would wholeheartedly agree, Father. However, there is a lot of history between Miss Alphonse and Draco, and none of it is positive."

"I still can't abide the fact that Pierre allowed his daughter to enter Hogwarts as a supposed mudblood! What was he thinking!?"

"He felt it would protect her, but I have to wonder if that was all there was to it?"

"Hmmm," Abraxas murmured thoughtfully, "knowing the Alphonse family as I do, I have to wonder if you're right about that, Son."