"We would have our own wing," Draco was saying to Hermione. "It would be like having our own house."

"Feel like and actually having our own house are two different things. The Manor is lovely, yes, I admit that, but it's so…impersonal. Like this massive space we're just passing through. Does that make sense?"

"Not at all."

"Quite the brick wall you are," Hermione huffed. Draco grinned at the comment and pulled her close. She resisted for a moment before settling in his arms like he knew she would.

"Let me guess, you'd prefer a small three-bedroom home of some sort?"

"Something like that, yes."

Draco snorted. "I feel claustrophobic already."

"My house must render you catatonic then," Hermione teased.

They had been debating back and forth about where to live after they got married for the past half an hour. They had gotten on this topic after Hermione made comments about his bedroom and how lavish it was, and his reply was that their wing would be better. Now, spending the night in Malfoy Manor (something she never thought she would ever do unless as a prisoner) was one thing, but living there? The Manor had its charming qualities, but there was no warmth there. It didn't have that intimate feeling of a home, but rather the opulence of a museum or some important landmark. Hermione couldn't imagine raising a family in such an environment despite the fact that Draco was evidence that it could be done.

"I'll make a deal with you," Draco began. "We find our own place, but it has five bedrooms minimum."

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, five is excessive."

"The Manor has twenty. Still think five is too much?"

Hermione was going to argue but the appearance of one the Manor's house elves had distracted her. The tiny creature bowed beside the bed before addressing them.

"Pardon the intrusion," he squeaked, "but a letter is come for Miss Granger."

"For me?"

"Thank you, Twizzle," Draco said as he reached for the letter. The house elf bowed once more after handing the letter over and disapparated, and Draco passed it on to Hermione.

"It's from Harry. I'd recognize that awful handwriting anywhere," she laughed. Her mirth died quickly, however, once the letter was opened and she read the first line. By the end of it, she was scrambling out of the bed and hastily gathering her clothes that were scattered over Draco's bedroom.

"I have to go. Ron's hurt."

"Hurt, you say?" His voice sounded suspiciously pleased at that, but Hermione was too preoccupied with her thoughts to notice. "What happened to him?"

"He was found beaten and robbed in Knockturn Alley, and now he's at St. Mungo's," she answered grimly. "Damn it, Ron, what were you even doing there? You would never —What are you doing?"

Hermione had finished dressing and turned to find Draco slipping a fresh shirt over his head.

"I'm going with you, of course."

"Draco," she smiled broadly, "I know that I told you to play nice with my friends, but really, you don't have to come."

"I'm not going for him," Draco clarified. "I'm going for you. What kind of fiancé would I be if I let you go alone? My shoes, please?"

His gesture had brightened his frazzled witch. While he was thrilled to see her that way, it was secondary to his true intentions on tagging along for the hospital trip. Draco was confident in his ability to cast a Memory Charm, but that didn't mean he could pass up an opportunity to ensure that the redhead didn't say something that he shouldn't.

Draco had a house elf inform his parents of where he and Hermione were going before Flooing out to St. Mungo's. It was one of the few places connected to every household home for emergency purposes.

"It's so busy," Hermione remarked. She was in awe of the amount of people sitting in the waiting area —some calm, others not, and a few engaging in anxious behaviors such as nail biting or foot jingling.

"It's night," Draco answered. "Everything happens at night."

In fact, it was nearly midnight, and Draco was quite sure that St. Mungo's would only get busier. He followed Hermione to the reception desk and she inquired on where they could find Ron. Draco didn't miss the receptionist doing a double take at realizing that he was with her, but his stern gaze kept her focused on the task at hand.

"Mr. Weasley is in Room 326."

"Thank you," Hermione replied and led the way towards the lifts. It took no more than a few seconds to make it to the third floor, but it felt like an eternity to Draco as they shared the lift with a rather chatty older witch who was going on and on about her near-death experience with dragon-pox as a child. He all but ran out of the lift once the doors opened, but soon realized that he may have preferred the endless twaddle.

Particular to the point of paranoid, Draco took an account of everything, but somehow, he didn't think that he would be met with a horde of Weasleys once they had made it to Ron's room. Neither did Hermione for that matter, for she seemed to be just as surprised as he. He heard her gulp, and Draco held onto her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze to help ease her discomfort.

Hermione nodded to those who were there —Harry, of course, since he was the one to write her. Ginny, George, Molly, Arthur, Percy, and Bill were also there. Charlie was off in China wrangling dragons as per usual, but she was sure that he would Floo as soon as he was able. At least it was one less pair of eyes to be ogling Draco and their public display of affection.

"Lavender's inside with Ron, I assume?" Hermione asked Harry. He nodded to her, but it was obvious that his attention was wandering between her and the blond.

"Yeah, she's in Ron's room."

"Do you know what he was doing in Knockturn Alley?"

"No idea," Harry frowned. "He was supposed to be meeting Lavender in Diagon Alley, but he never showed up. At first she thought that he may have just forgotten and went home. He wasn't there and she waited, but he never came home. She was at my house when the message from St. Mungo's came through."

Hermione was anxiously biting her lip now, but she let it go when she heard someone call her name. It was Lavender. She was standing in the hall and beckoning her to come over. Draco followed at Hermione's heels, Harry too, while everyone else in the hall kept their gaze focused on the blond.

"Ron's asking for you," Lavender said. "He said it was important."

"Yes, alright. Do you mind staying out here?" Hermione turned to Draco.

Quite frankly, yes, he did. And yet despite how much he wanted to be in the room with Hermione, Draco gave a consenting nod and watched her go. Now he was alone with the lot and the stares were beginning to grate on his nerves. He chose to sit on the closest chair, his legs stretched out, his hands cupped over his stomach, and looked straight ahead while keeping everyone in his periphery. He was more concerned with what was going on in the room behind him.

It wasn't that Draco thought Hermione would leave him. She couldn't. They were bound together by his family curse, and they would be drawn together for the rest of their lives. A literal "til death do us part." That still didn't mean that she couldn't get mad at him. He would strive to keep her happy, but it was simply unfortunate that there were people who infuriated him so. He only hoped that whatever was being talked about beyond the walls at his back didn't result in an angry brunette at his throat.

"You look nervous, Malfoy," Bill addressed him. Draco casually glanced up at the man who was currently towering over him. At full height, however, Draco was sure to be eye-level with him.

"What for?" Draco replied with a careless shrug. "Just thinking of Hermione's well-being. She was a bit shaken up at hearing about what happened to your brother."

"And you care?" Ginny snorted from further down the hall.

"About who? Your brother or Hermione?"

"Both."

"Only one of them," Draco smiled. "Considering that beastly marriage law of the Ministry's, I'm sure that you can rightly guess who."

"That stupid law," Ginny grimaced. "No one should be forced to marry someone against their will. Especially someone like you."

"A successful Ministry employee wealthy enough to buy a person? I think Miss Granger has lucked out."

"And you've what? Been cursed or something?"

Draco couldn't help his laugh. An interesting choice of words, but he merely cupped his hands and settled further back into his seat. "Or something."

He was sure that another round of insipid questioning was bound ensue —probably along the lines of why he was there when there was no reason to be. He would never know because the door to Ron's room suddenly opened and Hermione came rushing out. She was red in the face, hands balled into fists and held tightly at her sides. She didn't acknowledge her friends who asked what was wrong and paused only briefly by Draco's side to tell him that it was time to go. Draco obeyed and got out of his seat, not bothering to give attention to anyone and followed after her.

They ended up back at Malfoy Manor, and while Draco was sure that her anger wasn't directed at him, it still didn't make him feel any better that she wasn't happy. It unnerved him how she had yet to say anything and merely turned left or right back to his bedroom at his direction.

"Hermione, love, please say something."

He had just closed the door to his bedroom and turned around to find his fiancée standing in the middle of the room, her hands rubbing her shoulders, and taking deep breaths. He walked around her to see her face, and it was worse. No, she wasn't crying, but her eyes weren't exactly dry.

"Hermione, what happened?"

Hermione took yet another deep breath and simply shook her head. "I just wish I could tell them. Ron, Harry, the others… I didn't choose you. The Ministry did. I didn't choose to love you either. The curse makes me. The curse is the only reason why your parents tolerate me, and why I tolerate them. I constantly wonder just how evil they are naturally and what part of it is the curse that drives them, but it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter if I want to hate them for everything that they've done in their lives, for what they believe, and their dislike of me and my kind of witch, because aside from you, they're the only ones who can understand. Everything that I think, that I feel, who I am is shaped by this force that neither of us can control. To my friends I've lost my mind, and the irony is that I'm actually sane —for now."

Draco's frown was deeper than he could have imagined, but how could it not when he could not only see the suffering on his fiancée's face, but also feel it? It felt like a drill stabbing at his chest, and it got worse the longer she stayed upset. He eventually sighed and took hold of her hands, his fingers brushing across the engagement ring he had retrieved from the Malfoy vault.

"What did Weasley say to you?"

"That he was in Diagon Alley when he saw you and your father," she told him. All at once Draco felt his heart race, but it slowed considerably when she added, "He followed you into Knockturn Alley, but he doesn't remember what happened after that. Only that he woke up in St. Mungo's. Naturally, he thinks that you and your father hurt him," Hermione scoffed. "While I fully believe that your father would do such a thing, I know that you wouldn't. Ron and I argued about it and that's when I stormed out."

"'Stormed out' is a bit of an understatement," he poorly joked, "but you're right. I would never do anything that I know would hurt you —curse or not, by the way."

"Does Hogwarts count?" she asked with a raised brow.

"As an adult then," he amended. "I'm sorry that everything is such a mess."

"Well, not everything," Hermione countered. Her frown disappeared and instead of Draco holding her hands it was her holing his instead. "Manufactured love or not, I have you. I just wish I wasn't on the verge of losing my friends in the process."

"You're not going to lose your friends. They're not fickle. Get mad at you, yes, but not they're not going to turn their backs on you. Not like say…a pureblood confused as to why I'm so content on marrying someone of your blood status."

Hermione blinked rapidly and choked on her words before finally getting them out. "Has someone said that to you?"

"Not yet, but someone will," Draco nodded. "You're not the only one who's going to face repercussions from this."

"Oh, fantastic," Hermione grimly laughed. "Let me guess, they may try to kill me?"

"They might. However, we could always kill them if they try," Draco shrugged while Hermione gave him an incredulous look.

"I can't tell if you're joking."

"Neither can I," Draco admitted. It should have bothered him, but nothing troubled him quite the same anymore. With a deep breath, he encouraged Hermione that they should go to bed. It had been a long enough night as it was.

Draco woke up early on Sunday morning and left Hermione asleep in his bed. She had been right last night. Without the proper explanation of his family's curse, no one on her side would understand their actions. They probably thought that he had her under some sort of spell or that he had an ulterior motive. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't give a rat's arse what her lot thought of him, but where questions were, curiosity lay, and curiosity led to searching for answers. He didn't need anyone snooping around him and his family, and so Draco needed to nip this situation as fast as possible.

That was why he was in Hogsmeade before 8 a.m. He was sitting on a bench on a hill that overlooked part of the town. He liked to sit there because the views afforded him the opportunity to people watch in peace. He was able to relish in that peace for several minutes before someone sat on the bench within an arm's reach of him. A bit of parchment fluttered down between them as his bench companion spoke.

"You have one hell of a way to get someone's attention," Harry said as he cupped his hands over his lap. Draco glanced down at the parchment and read the words he had written in the middle of the night.

Hogsmeade. Bench on the hill.

We need to talk about Hermione.

Draco xx

Draco shrugged and crossed his ankle over his knee. "Would you have come to meet me if I didn't make it sound so urgent?"

"Probably not."

"Then that's why."

"Well, I'm here then," Harry turned to him. "What's wrong with Hermione? I spoke to Ron after she took off and he told me that they had a fight. About you," he added seriously. "He thinks that you and your father attacked him. Did you?"

"Do you really think that I'd admit such a thing?" Draco snorted. "That's quite presumptuous of you."

"You still haven't answered me."

"Yes, Potter. My father and I hate Weasley so much that we lured him into a filthy alleyway in Knockturn Alley, tortured him endlessly, and robbed him blind." Draco paused for dramatic effect, noticing how small Harry's eyes had gotten, and he wondered if the bespectacled man was about to arrest him right then and there. Typical. Draco eventually sighed before shaking his head. "Give us some credit. The fact that he was robbed should tell you that it wasn't us. As if we'd rob a peasant," he huffed. "That doesn't make an ounce of sense."

Harry's nostrils flared and a sneer appeared that could have rivaled Draco's. "That was uncalled for, Malfoy."

"Just giving you a little perspective," Draco casually replied with a grin. "Besides, I asked you here to talk about Hermione, not Weasley." Here his grin began to fade and he sighed. "She's worried that you and the rest of your people are going to abandon her."

"What?" Harry's mouth dropped. "We would never do that!"

"That's what I told her. Granted, hard to believe when you're all giving us death glares."

"You showed up at the hospital with her," Harry pointed out. "What exactly did you both expect? You two have never been on solid terms before, and now you're all fine just because you're slated to get married? Hermione was up in arms over this ordeal and now she's okay with it? Working with your mother on a wedding —hell, planning a wedding at all? She's not herself, and the only factor that's different in her life is you."

"Hmm," Draco mused. They had certainly done a lot of thinking in these past few days. He imagined a worried Potter-Weasel pair who carried their worries to the rest of the family, who in turn whispered among themselves yet never addressing what caused the lines in their foreheads. "For your information, neither one of us likes this. We're…trapped by something we can't control," he added carefully, looking up at Harry and holding eye contact. There was no mirth on the blond's face, no hint of a joke, and for the first time since sitting down, Draco could tell that the man next to him was truly listening. He, himself, felt a weight lift from his shoulders at the cryptic version of truth he was spinning.

"We can't fight it," Draco continued, "even though we want to. If there was a way out of it, trust me, we would take it. However, seeing as there's not, we're going along with it. Don't penalize her for making do with what life has thrown at her. It's bad enough that she has to marry me."

Silence trickled in between them, and Draco hated it. He broke eye contact and settled his gaze onto his hands, waiting for what Harry was going to say next. It felt life a lifetime had passed before words were finally spoken, and it was more than Draco could have asked for.

"Just promise me that she's safe with you."

"She is."

"Fine," Harry nodded. "Are we done then?"

"Yes." Draco stood, as well as Harry, and they stood awkwardly for a moment as though trying to determine whether to shake hands. They didn't, and Harry was the first to walk off. Draco watched his form disappear as he went down the hill and into the small mass of people that were starting their shopping in Hogsmeade for the day.

Just promise me that she's safe with you.

Those words rattled around Draco's head and he couldn't get it out. Potter had no idea just how untrue what he said had been. Like Draco had told his father, Hermione was very much capable of handling herself. Now that the curse was in play, it wasn't her that needed protection, it was everyone else. Even as Draco began to make his way to the apparation spot to head home, he could see the opportunities that surrounded him. The random witch or wizard whom Draco could imagine falling prey to his wand with a quick pull into an alley and slice across the throat. He could imagine the begging and the pleading and it made his heart quicken with excitement much like it did with Weasley yesterday.

Draco heard himself laugh as he stood between two buildings and prepared to disapparate, but he stalled his movements when he realized that he hadn't made a sound. Confused, he stared up ahead, his eyes widening when he realized that there was someone leaning against the side of one of the buildings. Granted, it was less that there was someone there at all, but rather who.

As though a mirror had been set down in front of him, Draco saw himself. His image was as clear as day, and although he was smiling, it was too wide and too forced to be natural —like a clown whose mouth lines were overdrawn. It made Draco's skin crawl, and he shook beneath his cloak.

"There's nothing like taking a life, is there?" his look-alike said, this time showing teeth as he grinned. Draco gulped.

"I wouldn't know," he replied. "I haven't killed anyone."

"Not yet."

Draco's doppelganger laughed and vanished. Draco stood rooted to the spot, shaken to the core and unable to move, until a witch tapped him on the shoulder and asked if he was alright. He nearly screamed aloud at her touch, but instead he muttered a quick, "I'm fine," before finally disapparating to Malfoy Manor where he hoped his insanity didn't follow.

Author's note: When I think of that smile of Draco's doppelganger, I imagine that viral thing with the woman and that creepy as crap grin and those huge eyes... Straight shivers.

Merry Christmas to those celebrating, Happy Holidays, and Happy New Year! :)

-WP