Chap 6: Confronting Old Ghosts

"I'm going to ask you again! Where did you get this sword? Where?!" Bellatrix bellowed.

Hermione's tears fell uncontrollably down her face. "We found it… we found it…"

"Liar!" her tormentor yelled, before waving her twisted Walnut wand towards Hermione, followed by "Crucio!"

Hermione's screams rent the air, tearing from her chest as the pain from the Dark Curse seized her insides. It lasted mere minutes, but her body shook from the impact.

Bellatrix fell to the floor beside her then, the blade of her knife skimming over Hermione's cheek, before being replaced with the roughness of the foul witch's tongue. She licked at her tears, giving a mad chuckle, "Poor, unfortunate Mudblood...how sweet you do taste…" She snapped her fingers then, "Come, Draco...come and have yourself a drink..." The woman above her cackled mercilessly.

Bile rose in Hermione's throat and she turned her face away, her gaze inadvertently settling on the form of the boy being beckoned by his cruel Aunt. His back was to her so she couldn't see his face. He was hunched before the imposing Gothic fireplace, his hand braced on the mantle. His form blurred before her and she had to blink away the tears. There was a tremble to his shoulders… almost as if he was the one crying. How strange that he would cry for her… just a filthy little Mudblood…

The sudden tearing of the flesh of her left arm brought her back to reality and her shrill scream echoed throughout the large room...

Hermione stood before the wrought iron gate of Malfoy Manor, the memory of that awful night as raw and fresh as the puckered scar hidden beneath her jumper. She pulled at the sleeve absently, rubbing her thumb over the carved words hidden beneath the soft fabric as if to soothe the sudden ache. Her vision blurred and she realized she was crying. She quickly wiped the tears away.

A crack of apparition sounded behind her. A comforting hand fell on her shoulder and she smiled in spite of her growing uneasiness. She reached up and patted the hand of her friend. "Thank you for coming, Harry," she softly said without the need to turn around and confirm his presence.

Harry squeezed her shoulder, "Of course, 'Mione."

They both turned and simultaneously released heavy sighs as they stared up at the large gate and the long path beyond. They couldn't see the house yet, save for the tops of the steepled towers that loomed large over the tall pruned hedges.

"I can't imagine having to grow up here," Hermione whispered. "It seems so cold… unyielding…"

Harry snorted, "I spent my formative years in the cupboard under the stairs so I'm probably not the best person to judge…"

Hermione gave him a knowing smile before turning her gaze back towards the Manor. Her humor faded and she shuddered, despite the warm August afternoon.

"Hermione, you don't have to do this," Harry offered.

She chose to ignore him, instead looking down at her outfit. She had chosen a soft, brown Corduroy skirt that flared just below her thighs, paired with a red, long sleeved Cashmere jumper her parents had gifted her at their last Christmas and simple brown ballet flats. She had changed a half dozen times before settling on this and now she wasn't so certain she had made the right choice. "Do I look okay?" She inquired, again pulling at her left sleeve to cover her shameful scar.

Harry sighed, recognizing her attempt to avoid his words. "You look beautiful," he answered.

She reached up to tug on her hair, arranging her chestnut curls so they fell over her right shoulder. "My hair?"

Harry took Hermione by her shoulders and turned her to face him. "You look perfect."

Her hands moved to her temples and she rubbed at the tense muscles, "I.. I just don't understand. The Prophet announced his engagement to Astoria Greengrass. H-how is this even possible?"

Harry chuckled, "If you believed everything they print in The Prophet, then we have secretly been dating since Third Year."

She groaned, "You know, wasn't it Malfoy who fed that particular story to Rita Skeeter?"

Harry thought for a moment, "I think you're right. What a tosser!" Hermione turned to meet his gaze and he gave her a wink and a smirk.

The crack of a second apparition sounded behind them and they both turned to see Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"Oh good, you're both here." He gestured forward, "Shall we?"

Hermione couldn't seem to get her feet to move. They were firmly rooted to the spot.

Kingsley gave Harry a look of concern before glancing down at her, "Ms. Granger?"

"Hermione?" Harry questioned.

She ignored them both. She took a step forward. Then another and another. She approached the gate. It slowly creaked open, almost as if it was waiting just for her. She walked through, ready to face her future… yet still so haunted by the past.

They trekked up the drive with her leading the way. How they must look to the casual observer: one small witch flanked by her two supposed bodyguards. She kept her vision locked on the ground underneath her feet, afraid if she looked up at any time, she'd flee in the opposite direction.

They came to the Manor's front steps and she finally gave into temptation and gazed up at the imposing house. She gasped at the wondrous site.

The house was great in size, no doubt about it. But in the mid-afternoon sun, it burned bright and beautiful. Suddenly Hermione had the distinctive feeling she was Icarus and she had flown too close to the sun.

She studied the structure, marveling at its impressive Gothic architecture and stone façade. She realized she had never truly seen it before today. After all, she had only been here once, and it had been rather dark (literally and figuratively).

Harry came to her side, "Ready?"

She slowly released the breath she had been holding and started to climb the stone staircase. As soon as her foot hit the great landing, the front door opened and there stood Narcissa Malfoy.

The tall, slim, older woman, looking regal in her form fitting emerald green robes with her white blonde hair pulled into a twisted knot at the base of her neck, smiled warmly and reached for Hermione, dragging her forward for an awkward hug.

"Ms. Granger," she drawled, quickly assessing Hermione with a watchful eye, "You look positively radiant."

"Um, thank you...Mrs. Malfoy," Hermione stammered.

She took her hand in hers and gave it a gentle squeeze, "Please, call me Narcissa." Her bright blue eyes searched Hermione's gaze for a moment before she turned to greet the other two men. "Mr. Potter, what a delightful pleasure to see you again. My, how you've grown." Still holding onto Hermione's hand, she leaned forward and kissed Harry once on each cheek. He couldn't help himself, his whole face turned a shade of red.

"Mrs. Malfoy, hope you are doing well," Harry politely responded, keeping his eyes locked on Hermione.

"Yes, very well. And Minister Shacklebolt, thank you for coming." She repeated her greeting, one kiss for each of Kingsley's cheeks, before she turned her attention back to Hermione. "It is so good of you to agree to come here today. I can only imagine how difficult it must be… being back here." Again, she gave Hermione's hand a squeeze. "But rest assured, we have moved heaven and earth to return The Manor to its former glory and to make you feel most comfortable."

"Oh! Uh… thank you, Mrs. Malf…Narcissa…" Hermione's heart clenched in her chest at the genuine look of concern on her future Mother-in-law's face. Having never really met the Malfoy matriarch (only seen at a distance), it moved her how much the woman seemed to genuinely care. With the exception of Sirius and Andromeda, the Black family's hatred for muggles was legendary. Did Hermione dare hope Narcissa's welcoming display of kindness was the real deal? Or was this simply a show for the Minister of Magic?

"Come inside, please. Draco is waiting for us all in the study," Narcissa replied, gesturing for everyone to follow her into the house.

Hermione's stomach flipped at the mention of Draco's name and she was suddenly very aware her palm was getting sweaty within Narcissa's grip. But the witch simply gave her an understanding smile and patted the top of her hand with her other as she led her through the large oak doors into the entryway.

She always remembered the old mansion as being dark and dreary so she was pleasantly surprised to see a large area with plenty of windows to allow in the natural light. Sunbeams bounced off the gold and silver fixtures, giving the home an ethereal glow that made it seem very warm and inviting.

As they walked through the main hall, there was a large ornate staircase to the left that ascended to the next level covered in a plush grey carpet and a beautiful stone fireplace she could only assume they used to Floo, with comfortable grey Wingback chairs situated before it. Hermione noted there were still some ladders and the place smelled of fresh paint, meaning the redecorating was definitely still an ongoing project. Her eye caught on the distinctive shadows that still adorned the upper walls where paintings, most likely of Malfoy ancestors, once hung.

Narcissa must have been watching her closely because she leaned in ever so slightly and whispered, "Draco had them moved to another wing of the house so as not to disturb you." Hermione swallowed nervously. She could only assume they were moved so they couldn't hurtle obscenities about her blood status. "And you do not have to worry, Ms. Granger, we had the drawing room demolished after Draco's acquittal many years back. It was the first thing he did once he was free."

Unable to find her voice, Hermione simply nodded.

Narcissa led them from the hall and down a corridor, then took a left, coming to another set of large oak doors that ran floor to ceiling. She finally relinquished Hermione's hand and gently knocked before nudging the door open. "Draco, dear, our guests have arrived."

"Thank you, Mother," replied the cold, deep voice from the man within.

Hermione's heart started to hammer within her chest, beating so frantically she feared it may burst from within. And as Narcissa glided the heavy door open and beckoned them to enter, Hermione finally caught the first glimpse of her husband-to-be… a man she had not seen in the flesh since those few stolen moments in the astronomy tower where he took her virginity and her heart… and she stole his memories. Her breath hitched and a wave of panic washed over her.

There he stood, lithe in frame but taller and broader than she remembered, clothed head to toe in a black tailored suit, cut to fit his body perfectly. His back was to them when they entered the spacious room, his hands clasped together in front of him while he studied the flames burning in the cozy fireplace. His white blonde hair was shorter on the sides than she recalled ever seeing it, though longer at the top where he spiked it for one of those "I just rolled out of bed" looks that actually probably took hours to get perfect.

Then he turned and the whole world stopped moving so it was suddenly only the two of them standing there. He was as handsome as ever, if not more so. He wore no tie, leaving the top two buttons of his black dress shirt undone, giving her a nice view of the corded muscles of his neck and just a hint of the porcelain skin of his upper chest.

Then her eyes fell on his lips, his perfected pout one of casual boredom. Her mouth ran dry and she licked her lips as a stirring of an unrequited feeling of sheer lust began in the pit of her stomach.

Suddenly his grey eyes collided with hers, their visions locking. She expected hatred… yet hoped for love… or at least something…but his eyes were cold, devoid of all emotion… his body language and manners stoic.

It lasted for all of two seconds – his look – before he was sliding past her to extend his hand to Shacklebolt, "Minister," he greeted.

"Mister Malfoy," Kingsley enthusiastically took his hand, giving it a hearty shake and extending him a smile few people ever saw.

And that's when he turned to face Hermione and Harry, Draco's hands sliding into the pockets of his trousers as he gave them each a short nod of acknowledgment, "Granger. Potter."

"Malfoy," they replied in unison, though Hermione's wasn't more than a whisper, her voice suddenly dying in her throat.

He barely registered their greeting, moving away from the duo to join his mother.

Ever the gracious hostess, Narcissa directly went for the tea service, offering everyone tea and biscuits.

Out of politeness, Hermione accepted a cup and small biscuit, though her ever persistent nerves caused the fine China to rattle as her hands shook. She looked for a suitable place to set it down so as not to draw attention to herself while Narcissa busied herself serving Harry and Shacklebolt, but every surface was so pristine and unblemished.

She stiffened as a warm hand settled at the base of her spine and Draco suddenly appeared at her right side. He took the cup and saucer from her trembling fingers and set it down on the nearest table. Then, with nary a word, he shoved his hands back into his pockets and sauntered away.

He still smelled so good… Hermione took a deep, shuddering breath before counting to ten. She then swallowed and turned to watch Draco as he leaned against a long conference table, legs stretched out before him, fingers thrumming on the tabletop. His vision was cast down to the plush carpet, his brow furrowed as he worked to collect his thoughts.

"Well, shall we get started?" Shacklebolt announced, drawing all eyes on him. He walked to the end of the same table where Draco was perched, waved his wand and a pile of parchment, neatly stacked, suddenly appeared.

The Marriage Contract

Shacklebolt gestured to the chairs on either side of him, "If the young couple would care to join me…"

Hermione's heart took on a frenzied rhythm now, thudding hard inside her. She walked over to the table, Draco beating her by seconds to pull out her chair for her. "Thank you," she somehow managed to murmur as she took her seat.

He said nothing in response, simply moved to the other side and pulled out a chair for his mother on his left before he, too, sat down, directly across from Hermione.

She caught Harry's eye as he pulled the chair out on her right, cocking an eyebrow in a questioning smirk. Yes, this polite Draco was a bit unnerving... she thought as she cast her vision down into her lap. She clenched her thighs together beneath the table out of sheer habit as a wave of heat flushed through her entire body.

"I assume you are all here of your own free will?" Shacklebolt inquired.

"Yes," Draco replied, his eyes on his hands as he fiddled with something between his fingers.

"Yes," Hermione whispered.

Draco glanced up at her and their eyes met for just a moment before he turned away to listen to the Minister.

"Narcissa Malfoy will be the witness for Draco Malfoy while Harry Potter shall be Hermione Granger's witness. Is anyone opposed?"

"No," Draco and Hermione each answered.

"Very well." Shacklebolt pulled out a pair of reading glasses from his robes then flipped to the second page of the contract before him, "For the record, will you both please state your given names."

"Draco Lucius Malfoy."

"Hermione Jean Granger."

Shacklebolt nodded. "Once again, please confirm you are entering into said contract without coercion or manipulation by any and all outside parties."

"Yes," they answered.

"As with standard procedure, the Marriage Initiative states that the two parties involved, Draco Lucius Malfoy and Hermione Jean Granger, have thus agreed to be wed on a date of their mutual choosing at a neutral location. Their magics will be bound together in ceremony and rings of fidelity exchanged. At the conclusion of said ritual, the parties will have one year from the exact time and date to produce an heir…"

"Eighteen months," Draco interrupted. His gaze flitted to Hermione for only a moment before he returned Shacklebolt's look of confusion. "You and I agreed we would be given eighteen months instead of the standard twelve."

"You are correct, Mr. Malfoy, we did agree." Shacklebolt turned to Hermione, "Ms. Granger, any opposition to this?"

"N-no…" she stammered.

"Very well." Shacklebolt took his quill and amended the contract. "The parties will have eighteen months from the exact time and date of their marriage to produce an heir. Absolutely no potions, spells or other means of contraception, Muggle or otherwise, may be used during the duration of the eighteen months. If, at the conclusion of the timeframe, there is no conception, the parties may choose to be separated at that time without consequence as a result of the dissolution of the marriage. Their magics will remain intact and they may go their separate ways as if none of this ever happened."

Shacklebolt briefly paused, letting the flow of information ruminate before proceeding, "Conception or no, the parties are free to continue with their union beyond the stipulated eighteen months and can expect no further involvement from the Ministry in their affairs." Again he paused, looking between Draco and Hermione. Both remained steadfast in staring at their laps.

He sighed, "However, if at any time within the eighteen months, either party violates the contract, the punishment will result in both parties being stripped of their magic, and may include but not be limited to extensive fines and time served in Azkaban. Do you understand these stipulations as I have explained them?"

"Yes sir," Draco replied.

"Yes," came Hermione's response.

"Furthermore, during the duration of the marriage, both parties must agree no harm shall come to their spouse, magic or otherwise, in which they are directly or indirectly responsible."

Shacklebolt took off his reading glasses and looked them both in the eye. "I'm aware you two have a history. I am also aware that sometimes outside forces cannot always be controlled. But you must look out for each other and never raise your wands against one another. Am I making myself clear?" His gaze landed strictly on Draco.

"Yes sir," Draco swallowed. He immediately looked down at his hands, a grimace on his lips.

"Yes sir," Hermione answered, even though she felt like maybe this particular point was not directed at her.

"Good. Now that's settled, we will go over the individual parties additional provisions, as submitted in writing to the Ministry."

Shacklebolt cleared his throat, "First, there is the matter of the Malfoy and Black family estates. As Mr. Malfoy is the sole heir to both families' rather vast fortunes, he has requested Ms. Granger agree to, in the event of a divorce, that she will not seek control of either the Malfoy or Black fortunes or any property acquired prior to the union..."

"I… I don't want their money," Hermione suddenly interrupted. She turned to look at Draco and Narcissa, "I don't want your money…"

"We know that, dear," Narcissa replied. "We only wish to ensure you and any children are well provided for."

Hermione bit her lip and cautiously glanced across the table at Draco. He had sat back in his chair, his arms crossed over his lean chest, watching her intently with his steely grey gaze.

Shacklebolt continued, "Ms. Granger will be given full access to Mr. Malfoy's accounts during the duration of the marriage, though he requests any large purchases be pre-approved beforehand." Hermione opened her mouth to protest but one look from Shacklebolt had her closing it in irritation. She crossed her arms over her chest, fuming in her silence.

He continued, "Mr. Malfoy has stipulated he will provide Ms. Granger with 10,000 Galleons for each year they are married in her private account at Gringotts, for her to do with as she sees fit. Upon the dissolution of the marriage, a lump sum of 100,000 Galleons will be paid to Ms. Granger…"

"That's bollocks!" Hermione exclaimed. She looked at Draco, "I don't want your money…"

He merely shrugged, "It's only gold, Granger."

Shacklebolt looked between the two of them, waiting to see if there would be any further outbursts before he resumed, "Upon the dissolution of the marriage, a lump sum of 100,000 Galleons will be paid to Ms. Granger as long as she agrees to remain discreet about anything she may or may not become privy to concerning either Mr. Malfoy or his mother."

Hermione looked down at the intricately carved table, her insides lurching. They were trying to pay her off, provided their union did not last. It made her feel slightly ill.

"The Malfoys are also requesting any child or children, Merlin willing, be raised at Malfoy Manor. A private suite can be provided for Ms. Granger if she chooses to dissolve the union after 18 months but wishes to remain within The Manor." Shacklebolt cleared his throat, "Ms. Granger, are these terms agreeable to you as I have thus stated?"

Hermione remained mute, her gaze frozen to the tabletop.

"Ms. Granger?" Shacklebolt repeated.

Harry reached under the table and took her hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

He's a good man, she coached herself. He just needed reminding...

Hermione nodded, the words stuck in her throat.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Granger. I need to hear you say it."

Draco leaned forward then, resting his elbows on the table as he stared at Hermione.

Hermione, refusing to meet his gaze, swallowed, "Yes, the terms are agreeable."

Narcissa released a breathy sigh of relief. Hermione glanced up at Draco. He had settled back in his chair and was staring at her but showed no emotion whatsoever.

"Shacklebolt turned towards the Malfoys, "Ms. Granger has only made two requests to be added to this contract. First and foremost, she has asked that she be allowed to retain her last name…"

Hermione looked at Draco. It was his turn to study the table as he listened to Shacklebolt, but there was no mistaking the clench of his jaw and the faint clicking sound of him grinding his teeth.

"...for the duration of the eighteen months or until a child is born, whichever comes first."

"Any child we have will carry the last name Malfoy. That is not up for negotiation," Draco stated firmly.

"Ms. Granger?" Questioned the Minister.

"Agreed," she murmured, avoiding looking in Draco's direction.

Shacklebolt scribbled down the note then proceeded, "Secondly, Ms. Granger has asked that she not be pressured into leaving her current employment, whether or not she becomes pregnant with Mr. Malfoy's child."

Her eyes strayed to Draco now. There was a casual upturn of his lips at Shacklebolt's words; a patented Malfoy smirk. But as quickly as it appeared, it vanished in an instant behind his impenetrable mask.

"Mr. Malfoy, are these terms agreeable to you as I have thus stated?"

"Yes, sir."

"Excellent. Then all that's left is for the two of you to sign the contract and settle on a wedding date."

Shacklebolt flipped to the last page of the contract before turning it towards Hermione. He extended her his quill. "Ms. Granger, if you would be so kind as to sign on the line above your printed name."

Hermione leaned forward, finding where her signature was required. She took a deep breath then lowered the quill.

Shacklebolt's hand covered hers and she looked up into his brown eyes. Worry pulled at the corners as he searched her face, "Ms. Granger, this is a magically binding contract. Once you sign, there is no going back… not without consequences."

What she was about to do could never be undone

"I understand, sir," came her quiet reply.

The Minister nodded, releasing his hold on her.

She bit her bottom lip as she lowered the quill to the parchment.

"Wait."

Hermione stopped, her head snapping up to stare at Draco, his one word statement causing her insides to coil.

"Draco…" Narcissa's voice warned.

He held up his hand to silence her, his eyes never leaving Hermione.

"I want to speak to Granger alone."

The room became tight with tension as Shacklebolt, Harry and Narcissa shifted in their chairs. Only Hermione remained still, frozen to her spot, transfixed by Draco's eyes.

"I'm not sure that is a good idea," Shacklebolt responded.

Draco gave the Minister an incredulous look, "We are to be married but I cannot speak to her alone?" He snorted his disdain as he crossed his arms over his chest, "How do you expect us to fuck and make babies if we cannot be trusted to be in the same room as one another… or will Ministry officials be overseeing that, as well?"

Hermione felt Harry stiffen beside her, his ears turning red as he desperately tried to rein in his anger. But Shacklebolt was another story.

The Minister ripped off his glasses as he stood, "Now see here, Mr. Malfoy…"

Draco didn't hesitate, rising from his chair in sheer defiance, his eyes locked on Shacklebolt's. There was a sudden change in the energy of the room… a static of electricity that raised the hair on Hermione's arm.

She reacted, shooting out of her own seat, inadvertently knocking over her chair. The loud clatter seemed to diffuse the tension as everyone was distracted long enough to turn and look at her.

She swallowed, "I… uh… I, too, would like to speak to Malfoy… um… alone…."

His gaze caught hers but he quickly looked away, he buttoned his suit jacket at the waist then casually moved aside, his hands clasped behind his back as he crossed the room.

Harry stood, too, "Hermione, you don't have to do this…"

"Actually, I think I do," she stated firmly.

Harry nodded then shared a look with Shacklebolt. The Minister threw his glasses down on top of the table and gave a dramatic sigh.

"We'll be just outside that door," Harry assured her, giving her shoulder a squeeze before turning towards the door.

Hermione watched the two men reluctantly leave, followed by Narcissa. She noted how Narcissa gave one last look of worry at her son before gliding through the door, closing it with a loud thud.

Hermione released a shuddering breath before bending down to right the chair she knocked over unceremoniously. Then she chanced a glance over at Draco.

He had resumed his vigilante stance in front of the fireplace, hands thrust into his pockets. He made no move to even acknowledge her.

She walked over to where he had set her untouched tea. With steady fingers, she raised the cup to her lips and took a drink, letting the still warm liquid coat her dry throat.

"Alright, Granger, out with it. Why are you agreeing to all this?"