Hermione blinked and reopened her eyes to the familiar sight of the Apparition spot in her parents' home. A counter hung in the air, giving her thirty seconds to verify her identity, and the whole space glowed a warning red as the spells she had put in place ramped up to deadly force. She swayed a bit, a tad dizzy from long distance Apparition but didn't allow herself too long to recover. There simply wasn't time. She slapped her hand on the wall in the proper spot, leaned in to have her retina scanned, and murmured the proper wandless spell immediately. The ominous protective magic building around her dissipated into the ether with a pop, and she was left standing in a regular seeming dark closet full of coats and shoes and winter gear. Relieved and slightly sick, she leaned up against the door and gave herself a few minutes to get recentered.

Her parents were early to bed, early to rise type of people, so with the time difference they were most likely abed. She was as quiet as possible opening the door and taking a peek into the hallway. Just to be sure, she checked the kitchen and the living space, finding them empty and dark, before shutting herself in her room. Despite having spent the summer in the space, it still felt bare and cold. Her things were here, but the white walls and cramped quarters didn't feel like home. She missed her loft at their old house, with it's bright painted walls, spectacular skylight, and parents who trusted her.

She opened the window, placing her wand as a beacon to summon a public works owl, and sat down at her desk to write a quick missive to McGonagall, letting her know about the 'family emergency'. Her bag was probably still sitting in the common room of Gryffindor tower, so she was without her notes and lists. As irritating as that was, she was terribly grateful that she had been so thorough with her security measures. Any government official who got nosy would only find school work and romance novels in her things.

She took off Malfoy's lovely cloak, her room being quite toasty, and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her messy braid was haphazard and had a leaf stuck in it. She plucked out the leaf, dismayed, and stared at her wrinkled uniform, her chapped lips, and her pale complexion. She couldn't care less about Malfoy's money and prestige, looks were of no importance, and she certainly had no desire to doll herself up. Still, she wished she hadn't gone to Malfoy Manor looking quite so disheveled. Oh well, it didn't matter. It wasn't like Malfoy wanted to marry her because she was some sort of beauty queen. He knew what she looked like before he bid on her.

Looking at herself in the mirror did put to rest that wild crazy notion she had fleetingly entertained that Malfoy had been going to kiss her. This was not a look that inspired rich snobby boys to kiss you. She closed her eyes for a few seconds, remembering him getting closer, her breath coming faster in anticipation, her usual ordered thoughts going sideways. Not backing away, not stopping him. Then having him slip past her lips to whisper in her ear. She could still feel his warm breath on her lobe. Why had he done that? Why would he get so close to her?

Obviously he was trying to mess with her head. The question was why? Nothing he had said about the law, or why he was bidding on her, or what his plans were required any sort of physical closeness or intimacy. She rather liked his cold, distant approach that ended with them getting this law repealed and going their separate ways. Maybe it was just because she was female, and he was used to kissing females goodbye on the cheek, and then realized at the last second that he shouldn't be doing that. Right, Malfoy was hardly going to get her confused with one of those socialite girls in his circle that expected such gestures.

An owl arrived at the window, and Hermione noted his promptness with a pleased hello and a treat as she placed her note on one leg and payment in the pouch secured to his other leg. She made an imaginary tick on her mental list. McGonagall contacted. Next, reading material. She made her way over to her bookshelf and muttered a revealing spell. The dust covered rows of muggle classics faded and revealed her real collection. Hundreds and hundreds of books shrunken and stacked ten rows deep. She used her wand to summon three books she thought would be of use regarding magical binding spells and ended her reveal spell.

She toed off her shoes and flopped down on the still unfamiliar and too hard mattress, and her mind immediately began to pick apart her day. It seemed like ten days worth of events and information had been packed into mere hours. She tried to concentrate on the legal and historical mess that Malfoy had explained to her, but for some reason her stubborn brain kept getting caught on other things. Stupid things. Things that had no bearing or importance. Things like the sound of Malfoy's voice when he had called her by her first name. She'd always hated her rather original name because it made her stand out, but the way he said it made it sound like a beautiful name. A melodious name.

He had called her other things too. Beautiful, naive, powerful, kind, gracious.

Malfoy spoke to her, about her, like he knew her. All of that conviction he had was wrong, she was none of those things. She was socially awkward and irritating. Not an influential publically beloved person. That was Harry Potter. She was smart, she knew that without a doubt, and pretty enough that she could look okay when she put a little extra effort into her appearance. Hardly the exciting, beautiful, interesting person Malfoy portrayed with his pretty words. The Hermione Granger that Draco talked about didn't exist. Was that really how he saw her? How disappointed he would be once he got to know her in truth and found out he was really engaged to a boring, neurotic, worry wart.

He'd also said she was a piece of work, quick to judge, was smug and superior, and called out her hypocrisy when it came to following rules, so maybe he hadn't completely lost the plot.

She closed her eyes and thought of him standing close to her, looking down, all of his attention focused on her. That felt intimate. She had had hundreds of whispered conversations with the boys, and not once had she felt that type of weird nervousness racing through her veins. That awareness of just how close she was to someone else. She'd never before noted how someone else's breath tasted, felt someone else's presence like a physical caress, had someone's touch brand her skin. Her mind shied away from the memory of her limbs tangled with his as they hovered on the broomstick, fear blooming at the back of her throat despite being safe in her room. That moment did remind her of something else to consider, though.

Malfoy wanted to protect her. He had literally declared it out loud with both words and deed. Openly admitted the reason he'd bid on her in the first place was to help her. He'd let her fight him on the broom, taking her kicks and her hits without letting her fall. He'd shown up to rescue her from ministry interference twice now. Was constantly offering her security. First he'd said he protected his own, then declared she was someone he was willing to protect. He said that the ceremony tomorrow would douse her in protection spells. Just what the hell was she supposed to make of that?

Overwhelmed, Hermione turned on her stomach and cracked a book. She would do some reading and try to reorder her thoughts later when the emotional kick of all this wasn't so fresh. The book she had chosen was about wizarding traditions, and she flipped through the pages until she found a section on weddings and settled in to read.


Hermione opened her eyes suddenly and felt a brief moment of panic. Her whole body seized up, and she reached for her wand before remembering that she was safe at her mum's house and breathed a sigh of relief. She must have fallen asleep reading. Face down, drooling into her book, for who knows how long. She rolled over onto her back, groaning softly and carefully turning her head to stretch. Her neck was definitely going to pay the price. She supposed all those sleepless nights had caught up to her. The sun was streaming through her windows, and even though it felt like the middle of the night, she realized it was probably late afternoon in Australia.

She got up, poked her head out of the door to see if anyone was about, and then padded down the hall to the loo. She did her business and went to the kitchen to make some warm milk. As she suspected, no one was home. Her parents were likely at work and didn't even realize that she was home. The kitchen in this little flat was much smaller than their old one, and she had to rummage through drawers and cabinets to find what she needed to put her milk on the stove. Everything about this place made her homesick. Even the familiar middle of the night ritual of a warm drink was tainted by the unfamiliar kitchen chairs and the daylight reflecting off the white surfaces and bouncing against her tired eyes.

She made her cuppa, went into the living room, flicked on some mindless tv show, and curled up on the couch. At least this piece of furniture was worn and comfortable and almost the same shade as their old couch. She sipped slowly, trying to narrow down the topic of her potions thesis in her mind, until her eyelids began to droop. She checked the time and realized it was a little later than she had thought. Closer to five in the morning in Britain, and her parents should be home soon. No matter, she didn't need to be up this early, and she had enough stress going on right now, and she really had no desire to explain to her parents why she was here. So she rinsed her cup and made her way back to the bedroom, pulled back the covers before getting into bed this time. Her warm cup of milk had never failed to put her back to bed, and despite her plethora of issues, it was easy to close her eyes and drift off to sleep again.


The afternoon found Hermione rummaging through her closet. She had no idea what she should wear. The note from Narcissa had said proper attire would be provided. So she didn't need to come up with some fancy engagement ceremony dress, thank God. But she was going to Malfoy Manor, and who knew who all would see her before she got changed. If she had been coming straight from school, she could justify her school uniform, but since she was home that was out. Normally, if she was going for casual, she would wear a jumper and a pair of jeans and trainers, but obviously that was inappropriate for going to a wizard gathering.

Hermione had taken a quick shower and braided back her hair, even putting on a bit of light pink gloss so her lips didn't look quite so pale and pinched. That was as far as she had gotten however, now, she was drawing a blank. She didn't have much in the way of casual wizarding clothes; she couldn't wear her fancy dress robes, that would be too much, and everything else she had was Muggle. Finally, frustrated, she started pulling on a knee length floral belted dress. She liked it because she felt it made her look like an adult instead of twelve, like all her little girl dresses hanging in her closet, and the Malfoys would just have to get over the Muggle flare. They knew what they were getting into before they chose her. Besides, the sleeves were long enough to tuck her wand along her forearm for easy access.

Finishing up, she slipped on kitten heels that she hated but went with the dress and dug around in her jewelry box until she found a gold chain. It was perfect to secure the engagement ring and long enough to tuck into her neckline. And then she stood there in front of the mirror. She had kept busy, ticked things one by one off her mental list. Avoided the notice of her parents, check. Complete rough draft of potions thesis, check. Read up on old blood magic, check. She had even cleaned her very clean room. But now, standing there in front of the mirror, there was nothing left to do except Apparate long distance and go through a highly magical binding process with Draco Malfoy.

'It's going to be okay,' she told herself. 'This is just a formality, and I'll be unengaged and free before I know it.' There was nothing to be frightened of. This was just magic. And she had been assured that this was beautiful magic. She fondled her ring under her dress and went through every scenario she could think of.

Fleeing the magical world, choosing someone else, getting pregnant, going to Azkaban.

This really was the best plan.

Determined, she made her way to the hall closet, which was the only place in the flat that would allow magical travel. As she closed her eyes, preparing to Apparate, she couldn't help but realize that the thing that frightened her the most was the anxious anticipation she was feeling in her stomach at the thought of seeing Malfoy again.


She wisely chose to Apparate in stages, so as not to be so nauseous when she arrived at the manor, and each magical burst had her just a little more nervous. By the time she opened her eyes in the Malfoy Apparition room, her knees were practically knocking together. She stood in the middle of the room, hands clasped together taking calming breaths. The doors were both open like before, and she was immediately bolstered to see her friends sitting in the same little seating area. Encouraged, she stepped out of the room and was greeted by the same uniformed girl that had served her tea.

"Welcome back to Malfoy Manor, Miss," she curtsied deeply, and Hermione had to resist the wild urge to curtsy back. "May I escort you to the reception space?"

"Uhm, no, I'm just gonna…" She pointed lamely at her friends and scurried on over to the group where she was greeted with warm hugs. They sat and leaned in close, Ginny immediately asking how she was feeling. She had no idea how she was feeling so she gave a nervous shrug and got another hug. Ron scooted in close to her and took her hand, and if she had sat there even one more minute, she would have said to hell with the whole scheme and asked Ron to run away with her. Fate, however, intervened, and Narcissa Malfoy arrived on the scene.

Somehow, Hermione had forgotten just how lovely Malfoy's mother was. Her porcelain skin, her flowing blonde hair, her flawless smile. She was the very picture of classy sophistication, and Hermione immediately stood to greet her. Narcissa leaned in, took one of her hands in greeting, and air kissed her on each cheek. "Hermione, how nice to see you again." As if she was an old friend.

Hermione rummaged around in her brain and managed to call up some manners. "Mrs Malfoy, you have a lovely home." The woman beamed at her as if she had said something clever and wonderful. "You remember my friends Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley and Ginevra Weasley."

"Of course, of course. Welcome, welcome! Thank you for coming. Now," she took Hermione's arm and started strolling, motioning for everyone to follow her. "The schedule for today is fairly light. Your guests will be provided with an informal tea in the east garden while you attend to purification. Then, we will begin the binding ceremony which is blessedly short but exhausting for the bride. We do have a lovely spread prepared for supper, but if you must get right back to school, I understand."

She glanced back at her friends, several times, including them politely as she spoke. "This whole ordeal has been quite interruptive of your studies, and my Draco has made clear to me how distressing that is for you." The whole act of strolling along arm in arm with Narcissa Malfoy as if they were old friends and today was just a lovely little get together was absolutely surreal. Hermione resisted the urge to pinch herself or exchange amazed glances with her friends. If she let herself make eye contact with Ginny especially she might start laughing uncontrollably and never stop.

The woman paused for a moment, and Hermione realized she probably ought to say something. "That's very kind of you."

They had arrived at some downward stairs, and Mrs Malfoy led the way down swiftly, chattering on about the days schedule. The woman was all light-footed energy and quickness, and she found she had to really stretch her legs to keep up. This was where Malfoy got his quick walk, she realized; he had spent years keeping up with Narcissa Malfoy. Despite herself, she pictured a young boy, short little legs, running to keep up with his mum as they went out for the day. An adorable mind picture that she should not associate with the full-grown Malfoy.

The bottom of the stairs found a very young male servant, maybe fourteen, waiting for them and fidgeting with his starched uniform. They came to a stop and Narcissa let her go. "Michael will take your guests down to the garden, and I will walk you to the purification pool. Hermione, at this point, you will need to surrender your wand to your steward and any other magical items you have with you."

The ring around her neck seemed to burn as she pulled out her wand, flipped it over, and handed it to Harry. She had been told no wand, so she was mentally prepared for this moment. Still, her hand lingered too long, and when she finally released her grip, it was with one finger at a time and with a wildly beating heart. The last time she had been without her wand had been in this very location, and despite Narcissa's welcoming attitude and her consent being obtained to even come, she had that trapped feeling resurfacing at the edges of her psyche.

The group allowed her time to compose herself before Harry leaned in and hugged her. Followed by Ginny. Ron waited his turn and gave her a fierce hug as well, whispering in her ear, "See you on the other side." And then she was turning, resolute, to gesture Narcissa to lead on. She made herself take firm steps, to not waver, to not look back. She wasn't walking to the guillotine. Dozens of Malfoy brides, including Narcissa, had endured this magical binding with no seeming ill effects. She would be fine.

She told herself her anxiousness was just a product of her own tendency to blow things out of proportion and tried to keep her mind focused on her surroundings, so she would not be lost. When Narcissa had said down, she'd obviously meant literally, since she immediately led her down another set of wide stairs. The next floor was all redwood leather, more along the lines she had expected of Malfoy Manor, but there was no time to linger. Narcissa was casting a revealing spell that captured Hermione's complete attention. The woman's casual use of magic highlighted Hermione's awareness that she, herself, did not have a wand, and her palms fairly itched with the loss. A stone door was revealed in the middle of a panelled wall, and Narcissa pulled it open easily, gesturing her through.

What followed was a series of stone steps, tight turns, and more steps. Hermione was not sure, because the deeper they went, the less standard the stairs became, but she estimated they were at least four stories below the 'dungeon' of the manor when the narrow hall opened up into a warm brick and stone space. There were layered rugs, fluffy towels, comfy chairs, and a large steaming blue pool in the center being fed from a natural spring. She leaned around Narcissa to get a closer look and noted the pool had rough stone steps descending into its depths. Narcissa led the way inside confidently, and Hermione followed with a much slower step.

"We used to do this ceremony clad only in light," Narcissa laughed as she held up a long white silk gown. "You can think the Malfoy men's tendency towards jealousy for that ridiculous practice being aborted. Still, in order for the magic to work properly, anything you take with you has to be completely natural, devoid of magic or bloodshed. This dress is made of a very special, cruelty free silk, by our own weavers. The silk worms are probably treated better than your average Hogwarts student."

She laid the dress back down, over a fluffy towel, letting out a sigh. "Did you bring my ring with you?"

Hermione pulled the ring out of her neckline, rolling its weight around in her hand for a moment.

"Can I ask you something a little bit offensive?" Hermione asked. She really ought to leave well enough alone, but that was not her nature.

Narcissa gave her a wry look, oddly familiar, and Hermione realized she'd seen that look on Malfoy a dozen times. "More offensive than your questions about our 'dark magic marriages'? Why certainly, go right ahead."

Hermione was swept with embarrassment, realizing that Malfoy must have spoken with her about the consultation. And yet, Hermione was comforted. This seemed like a much more genuine woman than the hostess who had greeted her in the sitting room.

"Why do you want me to wear your ring? I'm only Malfoy's….Draco's temporary fiancée. I'm not the girl he's going to marry. Don't you want to save it for your real daughter-in-law?"

"That may be true. We are working hard to overturn this law. But it also might not be true." Mrs. Malfoy said quite candidly, fingers rising to twist a strand of pearls strung around her throat. "We might fail to get the law overturned in time and the two of you will marry. Hope for the best, but plan for the worst. And really, marrying you is not the worst thing that could happen."

"I think Malfoy being forced to marry me is probably up pretty high on his 'worst things that could happen list'." Hermione blushed and looked away, unable to keep eye contact. It was one of the things that immediately had bothered her about this law and Malfoy's proposal. To expect her to be married to someone who had always hated her, who loathed her, who thought she was filthy. It was beyond cruel. Even with all of his kind words yesterday - the fact that her blood status made her an unacceptable bride was still between them, not to mention that whole lack of attraction to her problem. She was no stunning beauty, just plane jane Hermione Granger, cursed with wild hair and simple fashion. She was nothing like the girls she imagined would stir his interest.

"You may have noticed that some of the older, more traditional families are not really all that opposed to this law. It's the reason they were able to pass it the first place, because the old guard, the ancient lines, liked the idea of adding new talent to their bloodline," Narcissa answered, seeming to swerve off topic. Hermione didn't mind, the honest, sincere tone to her voice was interesting. Her facial expressions, the way she moved her hands; it was a bit of a revelation. Draco didn't take after his father, he took after his mum.

"Did you know that Malfoys usually marry for love? It's a rarity in the old families, and it's sort of a running joke amongst the brass." Narcissa gathered a pile towels from a cabinet and laid them out next to the dress as she spoke. "Those Malfoy men with their tender hearts. Some people say the love thing is nonsense, that we simply do things differently to avoid political pressure. We manage to avoid the typical pureblood tendency to marry the most prestigious and to keep our family line more fluid. When the Malfoy heir is shopping for a bride, it ruffles all sorts of feathers. No amount of favors or money or blackmail can secure a girls spot in our family line."

"The truth is`, we let our kids pick their mates. Lucius loves me. I was a love match, his mother was a love match, and his grandmother...and the story told is that it's always been that way." She gathered a comb, a spray bottle, and what looked like lotion from the cabinet, setting them precisely next to the towels while she talked. Hermione couldn't help but just stare back, fascinated. "We really don't like being manipulated by this law, but maybe not for the reasons you think. It goes against our family values, you see. We believe very strongly in the sanctity of marriage. I, especially, was very upset. I hate seeing my son robbed of his opportunity for true love."

Narcissa directed a smile at her, a bitter kind of smile that she could automatically tell was authentic. "Very upsetting. Still, we did the best we could with what we had. We gathered up the info on all the available witches and took out all of the ones that didn't meet our most basic criteria. Then I asked Draco to choose who he thought he might one day be capable of loving. He said: 'I'm not in love with anyone.' Broke my heart, but never it be said that Malfoy women are not formidable. I pressed him. I said: 'Please Draco, do your best, for me. Pick someone you think you might be capable of loving, one day, under the right circumstances.'"

She turned back to the cabinet, gathering loofah and exfoliant. She waited until she had placed them carefully by the other supplies before she went on. "He picked you immediately out of a pile of witches spread out all over the entire world."

Hermione knew she was staring, mouth hanging open, but she couldn't seem to put in the effort to contain her shock. For a moment she let herself process that declaration and then dismissed it. There was no way in any version of events that Malfoy looked at her and saw any possible love match. Letting his mother think that was all well and good, but if she had to guess, she would guess that Malfoy chose her just for the reasons he said he did. He wanted someone with whom he could easily break ties with, someone with whom he knew where they stood. This story was heartwarming and all, but Malfoy was just comforting his mother.

The woman went on, her tone changing back to a more no-nonsense tone. "In the event that your engagement is annulled, I would like my ring returned to me. Now, because there can be no magical items we can not magically alter your dress. My seamstresses did the best they possibly could based on your photo, but I think your actual bust is a little larger than we planned. It will be acceptable though; I don't think you will be showing too much cleavage and ample breasts are certainly a positive attribute." She held out her hand as she spoke, and Hermione fished the ring off her chain and dropped it in Narcissa's palm. Without ring or wand she felt absolutely bereft.

"Let's get you washed and dried, shall we?" Narcissa rang a small bell and almost instantly two serving girls, dressed identically, arrived.

What followed was one of the weirdest, most embarrassing things she'd ever done. The two servants stipped her and helped her into the bath while Narcissa chattered about the salt in the pool and how it would purify her body, mind, and spirit. She was doused and scrubbed and washed. The Malfoy matriarch sat in one of the comfy looking chairs and directed, keeping up a steady stream of information about why they used certain scrubs, herbs, and other ingredients for her cleansing, acting as if having some girl naked and bathed in front of her was a daily occurance. She realized about halfway through that Narcissa actually had a fondness for herbology and that she wasn't just giving her info to have something to say. She actually cared about the subject.

Since Hermione had never been naked in front of another person, one's mother didn't count, this whole process managed to completely distract her from her upcoming binding. The maids acted so professional, so nonchalant about seeing her in the nude that she couldn't protest. Narcissa too acted like it was no big deal. So Hermione concentrated on the occasional mindless response to Narcissa's chatter, not dying of embarrassment, and not giving into the constant urge to cover herself.

Far sooner than she could have imagined, she had been dried with enormous fluffy towels and helped into the gown Narcissa had shown her. One servant made adjustments while the other brushed her long hair, and finally Narcissa was satisfied.

"You look lovely dear," Narcissa gave her a gentle smile (that Hermione thought might be a rare expression for her) and gestured to the mirror to take a look.

Her hair did look particularly nice. The saltwater and soothing herbs that had been used to treat her left her with tight shiny curls that looked soft and touchable and without all the frizz fell almost to her waist. Her skin was glowing and healthy all over, and even her lips had been exfoliated so they were plump and smooth. It was the dress that caused Hermione issues. She hadn't been provided with bra or panties, and even though the layers of silk covered her modestly from v-neckline to ankle it molded around her flesh in a way that made her feel downright exposed. Her unbound breasts looked even larger, her hips wider. Her curves seemed emphasized despite the voluminous amount of soft fabric. "Are you sure I shouldn't wear a bra?" she queried nervously, and Narcissa shook her head.

"This is the traditional look," she explained, reaching out and adjusting one shoulder of the gown a tiny fraction of an inch. "Emphasizing your womanliness. There is nothing to be ashamed of here, this is the body that will give life one day."

Narcissa turned away, giving her a moment to get her blush under control, as she pulled out her wand and uttered a spell that revealed an archway in the wall framing a wide tunnel with a stone floor.

Narcissa turned to her, grasping both of her hands tightly, the weight of her grip surprisingly strong.

"There are things no person learns until they stand in this room," she began, and Hermione immediately understood that this was part of the ceremony. "This is the 'Path of Knowledge'. Once you start down this path, you can not stop, the magic will not allow you to turn away. Not everyone is meant to be on this path. Most people go on about their daily lives and never realize that they do not truly know themselves. Some people think they want to know, but when they look inside themselves, they can not live with what they see. Some people start down this path and are never seen again. Some people come to end of the path and their own mind has deserted them. Some people regret the knowledge they gained when they walked this path. You can choose to not know by walking away, but once you know, you can never unknow. We have found no memory charm that can undo the consequences of walking this path. Do you choose to go forward?"

Hermione didn't know what choice she had. Other girls might have a choice here, but she really didn't. It was this or go back to the ministry circus. She looked down the stone path that seemed to stretch on forever into the darkness and nodded her head once.

"You have to follow the path alone. Be steadfast and fearless, and we will see you again on the other side, Hermione Granger."

Narcissa leaned forward and kissed her, skin to skin, first on one cheek than on the other, before she let her hands go and left the way they had come, taking the servants with her and leaving her on her own.


This chapter is dedicated to Theo. He generously gave up time with his new human Lightofevolution to allow her to be able to read through this chapter and make corrections. Thanks Theo!