The path Narcissa had indicated was made of large flat stones, smaller stones marking

the edges. After a dozen or so steps the rough stone walls narrowed into a corridor and she found her way marked with eerie, blue flamed torches. She was obviously headed in an upward direction, but the temperature had dropped enough for her to be slightly chilled in her bare feet and ridiculously floaty attire.

Far more disturbing was the taste of magic in the air. Every step seemed to resonate with a shiver, and she had the rather weird sensation that each stone pulsed, adding to the magical atmosphere as she trod on it. The closer she came, the more powerful it felt, and by the time she reached the end of the corridor, she could feel eddies and currents of something swirling around her, tugging at her dress and hair, dripping from her limbs.

The corridor opened up to a circular garden, abounding with greenery and flowers, and lit by the same eerie blue light as the torches. It pulsed from the walls and from thousands of lit candles shoved into every nook and cranny, but most of it seemed to come from a still pool of water that lay directly across her path. There were nine high seats around the perimeter, occupied by nine hooded people that she assumed were the elders she had heard about. They were holding their wands aloft and chanting so low in a soft soothing tone she couldn't make out the words. She looked for Malfoy and saw him across the way, standing alone at a stone altar and watching her. The glow of his white blond hair made him unmistakable, but the eerie light cast his features into shadow despite how close she was.

She made her friends out, seated, past Malfoy on some sort of stone chairs. No one spoke, and the magic around her seemed to be waiting, waiting for her. Narcissa's words from earlier echoed in her head 'be steadfast', so she took a deep breath and stepped out into the impossibly beautiful space, staying on the path. A few steps in, and the magic she had been feeling became visible. A slightly greenish blue glow, radiating out from her steps, twisting around her as she walked. She recognized it as her own magic, but it did not feel as if it was leaving her, merely expanding. She felt drawn along the path, her usual, chaotic thoughts calmed, her emotions focused, and on some level she knew she was being affected by the magic. That this calm purpose and intent void of her earlier anxiety and nervousness was not the truth of her emotions. But instead of fighting it, she embraced it, relieved that she wasn't panicking and running.

She approached the first of three stone arches dripping with greenery. A hooded old stranger stepped out of the shadows, blocking her way. Instead of being startled or nervous as she would be normally, her feet simply came to a stop as if she had planned it and she waited.

"Will you give freely your breath of life?" he asked and held an odd stone container up to her.

The magic around her seemed to whisper knowledge without being heard. Hermione leaned forward without further instruction, and blew slowly into the container, somehow knowing this was required.

The man produced a match and set fire to her air, and it glowed a soft gold as it burned. He turned and held the flame to the arch, setting the whole thing alight with warm, golden flame. He bowed to her and stepped out of her way. Instinctively, she knew the fire would not burn her or her dress and boldly stepped through the arch. She felt the magic wrap around her like water, clinging, and then sinking inside her. The power of life and vitality and youth. Her own potential. Time seemed to stretch and flex and stop as she took that one step, and when she emerged on the other side, she was more aware of her own magic and her own power than she ever had been.

She was drawn on down the path by destiny and need, her heartbeat loud in her ears, her feelings too intense to separate them into emotions. The chanting from the elders positioned at the stones was a little louder now, and the visible magic that she had created while walking the path was now weaving its way between them, creating a net of power that was arching over the space. As she approached the second arch, a second hooded man stepped out of the shadows and blocked her way. He held a shallow stone bowl up to her.

"Will you give freely your body of life?

The magic whispered without words, and Hermione reached up and plucked a single strand of hair from her temple, coiling the silky length, oddly heavy with the blue-green glow of her magic, inside the bowl. The man produced a match and set fire to the strand of hair, and it glowed a deep, burnished gold as it burned. He turned and held the flame to the next arch, setting it alight with the same burnished, golden flame, deeper and richer than the first flame. The man bowed to her before stepping aside, and Hermione pushed forward through the arch. The magic was heavier, thicker this time and enveloped her completely, sinking inside, become a part of her. The power of knowledge, and curiosity, and determination. Strengths she knew she had but now felt deep inside the pit of her stomach, stretching out to each toe and finger. Emerging on the other side of the arch, she felt centered and purposeful.

The blue-green aura, her magic manifested in reality, pressing around her, was now so dense she could feel the weight of it as she made her way to the next arch. It was like wading through light, syrupy and sticky. Heavy and dense, going into her lungs, it seemed to strain against itself to touch her, caressing her face, her bare skin, her hair. Everyone was aglow with the light coming from her now, and she was amazed at the vastness of her own power as it encircled and carressed every person, every stone, every flower, lighting up the entire space. The pool between her and Malfoy seemed to be soaking it up, thirsty, like a drowning man. Malfoy, her destination, stood still as a statue, waiting for her, bathed and caressed by her magic. She held his gaze as she approached the third and final arch before she was blocked by Nicolas Flamel. He held a stone vase up to her, full of the glowing water from the pool and containing a single blood red rose.

"Will you give freely your blood of life?"

The magic whispered to her, she could almost understand unheard voices. Hermione reached out, her limbs slow and heavy, pushing through the pulsing, magical atmosphere to prick her finger on a single sharp thorn. Her blood shone red and wet as the rose pulled in her magic from that spot, soaking up her essence, changing color to a brilliant glowing blue before Flamel produced a match and set fire to her rose. The glow of the golden fire was brilliant and blinding, but she didn't look away as he set fire to the arch, lighting up the entire space with golden flame. He bowed and stepped away and Hermione stepped into the arch, eager to feel this magic, to know its power.

She felt like she was falling in reverse through time and space as she was drowned in passion and love and loyalty and need and wanting. Every powerful thing she had ever felt battered her on all sides, amplified by a million and one, filling her to bursting with emotion. She was overwhelmed by the strength of her heart, the focus of her love, the purity of her desires.

This was the source of her magic, she realized.

Her passions and wants and desires were what fed her massive power, drenching this entire space. She felt completely connected to every single corner of this magic of hers, and when she reached the other side, she felt invincible, unstoppable, drunk with her own potential and aware of who she was and what she was capable in a completely new way.

She locked eyes with Malfoy, feeling closer to him than distance allowed. He stood across the length of water, drenched in her essence, her magic, and she understood. Understood that this ceremony had unleashed her coiled power, set loose her potential, all so that she could know it. She could see a faint echo of his aura, a recognition in his gaze, and she knew he had walked this path as well. That he had been introduced so intimately to his own soul, and heart, and magic. That sure calm way he seemed to know himself was not just arrogance, he truly did know. Even if they dissolved this partnership tomorrow, she would forever be grateful to him for allowing her this profound and life-changing experience. The value of this knowledge paled in comparison to the troubled events that had brought her here, and for the first time in a very long time, she felt she was exactly where she was supposed to be at exactly the right time, with exactly the right people.

Hermione soaked in this experience for a handful of heartbeats, feeling very close to her intended despite their distance. He knew this feeling she was having. This overwhelming power. This all-enveloping merging with her own magic that had swept through her, leaving her clean and breathless and aware. She belonged up there at the altar, beside him, binding herself to him.

Her magic propelled her forward; she could almost hear her name on silent whispers, and without hesitation she followed the path into the water, which welcomed her unreservedly. It swirled like light around her ankles, her calves, her waist as it made room for her within its depths. She reached the center of the pool, where Narcissa waited for her, dressed in a pure white robe that pulled in the light and reflected it against the brilliant blinding of the glow of the water as it intensified.

Narcissa raised a stone chalice filled with the glowing water and tipped it over her head.

"I wash you clean of any and all sin you may have ever committed. Your soul, and mind, and body, are cleansed and renewed by your own power, and you stand before us purified and brand new."

Hermione shivered as the water cascaded over her, the warm magic washing over her from her scalp to her toes, bleeding out into the pool in waves of light. The elders around her paused their chanting to intone a spell she didn't recognize, and she felt the spell wrap around her for a moment before disbursing. Narcissa dipped her chalice in the water to refill it before pouring magic over Hermione's head again.

"I wash you clean of all obligations, loyalties, and ties you may have had. You come to us free and unencumbered by any oaths or bonds or prior contracts." The magic this time was just as warm, and she felt a weird lightness in her spirit and her chest as she seemed to focus inward. She owned herself, and she was the only one who had any ownership over herself. Obligations she didn't even know were so heavy were lifted away, leaving empty places inside that were slightly sore. Her magic rushed into her, filling those spaces, making her whole.

The elders intoned the spell again, this time even more powerful. It squeezed her from head to foot before seeming to break apart and fall off of her. She watched fascinated as Narcissa dipped the chalice yet a third time, and her whole body tingled with anticipation when the woman lifted the water over her head, drenching her yet again.

"I wash you clean of all heartbreak and sadness and grief. Find the fortitude within to forgive yourself any misdeeds. For you are no longer the person you were. You must let that person go, let your old self die, and embrace your new knowledge of who you are, what you want, and what you are capable of."

Hermione was no longer passive, accepting her power and using it. She felt tears on her cheeks, her breath choked and wet, as she accepted this gift and instinctively pulled her magic around her...letting it inside, letting it cleanse her. She felt the pain from old hurts and new hurts falling away, and when she lifted her head to look at Narcissa, she did feel clean and brand new as the elders chanted the spell again. No longer did magic touch her and cling to her and fall away; she chose to accept the spell, examine it, let it touch her. A strengthening spell that focused her mind and her magic. And it was good.

The magic throughout the room and inside her pulsed with her newfound power and purpose, and she could almost feel the stones beneath her feet trembling, the air vibrating with the strength of her.

"You stand before us now, a woman who truly knows her own mind, her own magic, her own value. You have walked through the fire of your own soul and found yourself worthy. You have come to the end of the path walked by those who seek the truth of who they are and have learned all you can from your past and your present. All that remains is the future. From this point on, the unknown stretches out before you, and you must find your own path. Armed with the wisdom you have acquired, you must choose the way you will go. You may choose to join Draco Malfoy at the altar and bind your magic with his, choose to forge a path forward with him, choose to accept him as a partner in your future. Or you may choose to exit this place with no further obligation to our family and no ill will. Choose wisely, Hermione Granger." And with that resonating statement Narcissa bowed to her and moved aside, clearing the way.

It wasn't hard for Hermione to make the decision to walk toward Malfoy. Of all the people involved in this mess, he had been the only one to value her choices. He hadn't tried to force her to do a single thing. Maybe he was super-sensitive to the issue after his experience with Voldemort, she didn't know, but why didn't matter. He had offered her shelter from the storm and had promised her that if the storm abated, she could walk away from that shelter if she wanted to.

It was enough. It was everything.

For the first time since her foot had touched stone, Hermione felt like her mind was sharp and clear, her emotions her own. That lack of magical interference only added to her comfort as she mounted the stairs and joined Malfoy at the altar, leaving a wet trail behind her as water dripped from her body.

His gaze was riveted on her, hot and intense, and Hermione refused to look down. The heavy silk of her dress was wet and clinging, and though her heavy, dripping hair offered her some cover, she was sure that the material had probably gone at least partially opaque. She maintained eye contact, insanely grateful that his gaze did not dip down and rove her whole body. But he wasn't blind; he couldn't help but see. The only shield for her modesty seemed to be his gallantry, and she shivered with the cool of the air on her wet skin and the hard stone under her feet. As she joined him and turned to him, he gave her a wink before lifting a heavy white cloak draped over the altar that she hadn't noticed, stepping into her space, and wrapping it around her.

The warmth of the cloak enveloped her, and she sighed in pleasure as he fastened the closure at her throat. She watched fascinated as the magic that had been swirling around her, touching her, expanded its area of concentration to include him. She could feel it touching him, wrapping around hard muscle and quivering skin, touching his heartbeat and his breath. He was as barefoot as she was, dressed only in loose white pants that left him naked from the bellybutton up. He was beautifully muscled, the light dancing on pale skin, marred only by the remnants of her fading bitemark. Completely in-tune with her instincts, she didn't hesitate to reach out, touch that spot on him, feel the slightly raised skin, watch as he swallowed hard under her fingers.

"Join your left hands," a voice intoned, and she realized that the people who had helped her on the path had joined them at the altar.

Malfoy raised his left arm, extending his upright hand to her, and she noticed the unblemished skin there. She had heard that he had somehow gotten rid of the Dark Mark before his trial and was vastly relieved to know she would not be forced to touch a remnant of Voldemort's evil. She raised her left arm to meet him, interlocking their fingers, and was not surprised to see her own unblemished skin. Her Mudblood scar had ceased to be when she had let go of past pain. She wondered if that was how Malfoy had rid himself of his tattoo. If it had just no longer been part of him when he became new again. She fiercely hoped so, that the man standing before her right now had no part of him inside or out that was twisted by that evil.

Malfoy noticed where she was looking and twisted their combined arms a bit to see. He tugged her a little closer, bent down, and placed a chaste, sweet kiss on the skin where her scar used to be. Branding her with the impression of warm lips and soft breath for a heartbeat before standing upright again and giving her an unrepentant small grin that had her pulse doubling and tripling in her chest. What the hell did that mean? She felt her cheeks burning, her breath coming fast and uneven, and resisted the urge to look over at her friends, at Ron, and see what reaction they were having.

"Do you, Miss Hermione Granger, come to us of your own free will, clear of mind, and with full knowledge and understanding of this magical binding with Draco Malfoy?" Nicolas Flamel asked in a loud voice, interrupting her thoughts.

She almost said 'I do' but bit back those iconic words and instead said "yes" in a clear, firm voice that carried. One of the elders slipped a red cord around her left wrist, knotted it, and then looped it around Malfoy's wrist as well.

"Do you, Draco Malfoy, come to us of your own free will, clear of mind, and with full knowledge and understanding of this magical binding with Hermione Granger?" Flamel asked Draco.

His lips tugged a bit, perhaps fighting a smile or a frown, before he echoed her with a firm "yes." Another cord, this one a blinding white, was knotted around Draco's left wrist before being looped around her wrist in perfect symmetry.

The nine elders intoned a powerful binding spell as one, and the cords glowed golden for a moment in response.

"Do you, Hermione Granger, willingly bind your chastity and fertility to Draco Malfoy from this moment forward?"

Malfoy's eyes burned with an eerie silver glow, and she refused to look away even though she knew her cheeks were burning again. She whispered a "yes" past a throat gone tight, and her elder made a new set of loops with her red cord, creating an infinity symbol stretching between them.

"Do you, Draco Malfoy, willingly bind your chastity and fertility to Hermione Granger from this moment forward?"

He didn't hesitate or blush, simply repeated the same firm "yes" from before. His elder repeated the looping with the white cord, and now the infinity symbol had been doubled, and the two cords were intertwined with each other. Another binding spell rang out from the nine elders and the cords absorbed it for a second, glowing a deeper, fiercer gold that reminded her of the arches.

"Do you, Hermione Granger, willingly bind your loyalty and your trust to Draco Malfoy from this moment forward?"

She had thought firmly about what she wanted those vows to mean last night and this morning. But, standing here, she knew that her heart was bestowing a purer, deeper meaning to those words. Still, she couldn't back down, didn't want to. So she maintained eye contact and whispered another "yes". Her elder looped the cord again, and she fancied she could feel the physical weight dragging her to the floor. She wanted to shout at him to hurry, to get it over with, but his movements were slow and deliberate.

"Do you, Draco Malfoy, willingly bind your loyalty and your trust to Hermione Granger from this moment forward?" He hesitated. It wouldn't have been noticeable at all, the mere three seconds where he seemed to be staring down into her soul, if he hadn't been so quick to reply before. Nonetheless, his "yes" was just as sure, just as firm, as his previous vows. He didn't blink or look away, seeming calm and assured as his elder worked another loop around their wrists.

The elders intoned the spell, their bindings glowed gold, and Hermione felt the magic crawling up her arms and down her thighs like an itch. Her own magic was gathering again, concentrating itself around them, glowing brighter. It felt like her magic was gathering its power to strike.

"Do you, Hermione Granger, willingly bind your fate and destiny to Draco Malfoy from this moment forward?"

It seemed so final, so permanent. In the back of her mind, a small voice was reminding her that he had told her that these vows could be broken. This was not an Unbreakable Vow, merely a binding, and it could be reversed. But with her magic wrapped around her, his hand warm and steady in hers, so close she could taste his breath when she inhaled, it didn't feel temporary or fake or silly. It felt enduring and intoxicating and downright spiritual. She couldn't say yes if she didn't mean it. She was winding her fate with his fate right this moment. Maybe they wouldn't be married, but this experience could never be undone...it would be part of her forever. And so would he.

The "yes" that slipped off her lips was a promise from her heart. The new loops her elder was wrapping around their wrists felt heavy with the weight of her sincerity.

"Do you, Draco Malfoy, willing bind your fate and destiny to Hermione Granger from this moment forward?"

His "yes" was just a solemn, his earlier half grin long gone, and he squeezed her hand a bit harder, as if he felt her need for reassurance. The elder finished looping Malfoy's white cord, and then the two men tied the two cords together, creating one long length physically binding them together before stepping back.

This time, when the elders intoned their binding spell and the cord glowed gold, the color did not fade. Instead, the power in the room swelled and swirled around them, and the cord grew warm, almost hot, and blindingly bright before it dissolved into golden bands of light around their arms. Searing her without pain, marking them, sinking inside. She felt the vows she had taken wrap around them, race along the golden light of their binding and then settle inside her, now a part of her. Her chest squeezed tight with the weight of it as the magic bound her to her words before it dissipated in a shower of sparks and lights, leaving her skin unblemished and her hand unmarked, fingers still entwined with Malfoy's warmth.

"A woman's trust, loyalty, and fertility are gifts of incomparable value. Do you wish at this time to reciprocate these gifts by extending the protection of your life blood and the sanctuary of your family line?"

"Yes," Malfoy replied immediately, and Hermione wondered if what he was doing was required in order to fulfill the traditional clause of the Ministry law, or if some men refused this part of the ceremony. All the times Malfoy had offered her his protection over the last several days banged around in her skull, and she felt no resistance in her heart to this gesture.

"Draco Malfoy, take a knee," Flamel instructed, and he dropped to the stone in one graceful move without letting go of her hand. "Extend your right hand." Malfoy raised his arm, palm upwards, steady as a rock, and if she hadn't been holding his hand so tightly, she would have no idea that his pulse was racing uncontrollably. Her eyes widened with recognition as the golden ring she had so regretted parting with was placed in the center of his palm.

Malfoy must have known what was coming next because he did not flinch when her elder produced a glowing stone knife and swooped in, nicking the hollow of Draco's throat in one swift motion. Blood bloomed, bright red and wet, but the only indication he gave of pain was to squeeze her hand firmly. The knife was held at his throat, collecting his freely flowing heart's blood in groove of the blade. Finally, when the knife was filled from tip to shank, the blade was carefully pulled away. Malfoy's elder reached around from behind him to rub a dark black substance, which she thought might be ashes, into the cut, stemming the bleeding.

The knife was carefully lifted high for all to see and tipped, the blood slowly leaving the knife one drop at a time and flowing straight down to her ring as though following a path in the air. Flamel began a spell in Latin, joined first by Malfoy, then the two elders, and finally voices all around the room. Repeating the magic words over and over, lending their power to her protection.

Her Latin was not perfect, but she recognized a few words. 'Praesidium' she knew meant something like protection. 'Vita' was life. 'Sanguis' was blood. She could be wrong, but she was certain 'aeternum' represented eternity or forever. Regardless of her level of comprehension, her understanding was perfect. She recognized the magic building in the air, twining and binding and cutting through her own magical aura that still pervaded the entire space. This was the spell that had given her ring that wonderful aura of protection, love and safety. Her ring did not let a single drop of life escape, pulling the red drops around itself in a spinning haze, while it slowly absorbed Draco's promises.

Much to her embarrassment, she felt tears pooling in her eyes as she stared down on him. The magic of that ring was some of the most beautiful enchantments she had ever come in contact with. To have this person, who was once her enemy, on his knee, wrapping those sacred spells around her was profoundly humbling and poignant. She could feel his intent as strongly as if she was holding the ring in her hand, and his feelings were as benevolent and pure as anyone's who had ever cast on that ring in the past. They might not be pledging forever, but his purpose to protect her right here, right now until she released him was resolute and determined. It was everything she had ever wanted in a union, and for this brief moment between them, she couldn't be more fulfilled. When her ring had absorbed every drop of blood, he twisted her hand and slid the ring on her finger where it belonged. A perfect fit.

He rose to his feet as her ring bound itself to her soul, to his promises, and to him. She felt the weight of his protection, the sincerity of his devotion, the significance of their bond wrap around her like a warm cloak and settle into her bones.

"You are sealed to each other, one in purpose, one in spirit," announced Flamel, "May the fates smile on your future union."

Wands rose as one, then came down, pushing her magic down with it. She was connected with every particle of her essence and felt wild spasms of energy when suddenly that magic was rushing about, gathering speed, condensing, coiling first around the both of them and then focusing on her. Channeling itself back into her. The light died as it entered her, and the force of it rocked her on her heels. She grasped at Malfoy to have something solid to hold onto and absorbed her magic all at once. She would have fallen to her knees if he hadn't been holding her up, and she clung to him fiercely as the aftermath rocked through her, leaving her panting and exhausted.

It might have been minutes or hours or days before she opened heavy eyelids to look around. The garden was lovely, but shrouded in darkness. Her friends stood carefully unmoved, all waiting for her to gather her composure. Hermione had never been so tired in her entire life. She needed Malfoy's support as she tried to get her legs underneath her enough to leave the altar, head down the stairs, and collect her wand. It felt like she had run a marathon while dragging a horse behind her. Despite shaking badly and leaning on Malfoy heavily, Hermione felt nothing but intense determination to lay her hands on her wand once more.

Harry knew what she needed without a word and held her wand aloft as she approached him. She felt a bit of strength seep back into her as she reached out with cold fingers and grasped her wand. Her new intimacy with her magic extended to the wand, and it greeted her like an old friend, seemingly giddy with excitement that she was finally able to recognize it completely. She pulled it to her chest, swaying with exhaustion. The last thing she remembered was how safe she felt when Malfoy stooped a bit to lift her into his strong arms bridal style as she burrowed into his chest. There was no anxiety at all about closing her eyes and giving into rest.

After all, Draco was there to safeguard her.


Big round of applause to LightofEvolution who went through this chapter lightning fast so you could all enjoy it! Thank you so much.