*Chapter dedicated to the lovely ladies LadyKenz347, Frumpologist, and Elle-Morgan Black*

"Hermione, I'm going to suggest something...and I don't think that you'll like it."

That was perhaps the worst thing that Draco could have said just as they were going to bed. They were at Hermione's house and she had just crawled into bed and moved to snuggle him, but stopped mid-motion in her action. She was sitting bolt upright now and regarding him with cautious eyes.

"What is it?"

Draco couldn't look at her. It was bad enough that her innocence had been stripped away through no fault of her own, but now he felt like he was adding to it. Not his parents. Him. It made him feel dirty and utterly worthless, but that was his life now, wasn't it? A slave to the depraved?

He sighed and with his eyes focused on the far edge of the bed he finally spoke. "Alright. We both know dangerous tomorrow is going to be. It's very likely that someone may attempt to hurt you —if not outright kill you." Draco slowly turned to look at her and found her wearing her impatience on her sleeve. It made him smile, but he frowned shortly after. "I think we should make it easy for them."

Hermione had been knocked sideways with that last comment and she furrowed her brow at what she thought she misunderstood. "Come again?"

"One kill between us isn't going to satisfy the curse, you know that."

"Yes, but —"

"And if we wait until we've gone insane, it'll be too late."

"But Draco, we're not crazy. We haven't been having any symptoms —"

"—yet," Draco interrupted. "We haven't had them yet. However, when we do, it'll be sinister. It'll invade every part of our being until we won't know what's real anymore."

"Draco, stop it, you're scaring me," Hermione frantically hushed him as she pulled her comforter closer to her body. It was chilling her to the core, his vivid description, and that's when she gasped. It was too vivid. Hermione frowned when she hesitantly asked, "Did...? Did something happen to you?"

Guilt immediately flooded Draco's face. It was now that he had chosen to look at her rather than at the bed, and that's when she saw it. It wasn't just guilt that had overtaken him. It was also sadness and fear. Draco was absolutely troubled and scared, but it wasn't for his own wellbeing.

Hermione gulped. "Me."

It wasn't a question, and Draco didn't intentionally do anything to confirm or deny, but he did turn his attention back to the bed. "What exactly happened to—?"

"Don't," Draco sternly ordered. Hermione nearly fell to the floor with his fierce tone and he instantly regretted it. "Sorry. It's just that Healers put Mind Blocks in you and you could break them if we talk about what happened. Just trust me when I say that we need to do this, and know that from the deepest part of me that I wish this wasn't our only option."

"I believe you," Hermione assured him. It lifted a weight that Draco didn't know that he was carrying. At least she didn't think that he was a monster. "What do you propose we do?"

"I don't want to put you directly into harm's way. I just figured that if someone tries to attack you, if we killed him or her then it would be self-defense. A two birds with one stone sort of deal."

"And if that doesn't work?"

"We thank Merlin that no one tried to kill you and then think of a Plan B."

"I don't know which option I prefer," Hermione inappropriately chuckled. "Should we target anyone in particular?"

"No, I don't think we should. Dangling you like bait, however, will probably work best. And I'd bet anything that Rabastan will be the one to bite..."

Hermione didn't realize that it was so difficult to fake tears until tonight. She hadn't been scared when faced with Rodolphus or when Draco had killed him. She also wasn't sorry. Regardless, she was going to sell this thing. And so, Draco had run off in a well-acted frenzy down the hall while Hermione sat on the couch holding herself and shedding faux tears. Some moments later Draco came back into the parlor room with his parents at his heels. Their shock was palpable, although Hermione swore that she could detect something else from them. Pride?

Hermione didn't concentrate on it. She focused on playing the victim all the while overhearing Draco arguing with his parents about the guests who remained and about how to handle the Aurors who needed to be owled. In the end, the most "notorious" guests were advised to leave, and by the time Aurors arrived there was no one to arrest. They only surveyed the scene, took the necessary photographs, confiscated the murder weapon, and told Hermione and Draco that they needed to be escorted to the Ministry to take their statements.

That was Hermione's situation now. She was sitting in an interrogation room, her tears long gone, and spinning the half-truth that she and Draco had drawn up.

"...after I slapped him, Lestrange pulled his wand on me. Draco hit him with the statue then."

"From the look of Lestrange, it seems like Mr. Malfoy got a good few hits in," the Auror mused. "A bit excessive, don't you think?"

"Draco came in to see someone trying to kill me," Hermione countered. "Is anything ever excessive in that case?"

"I suppose not. And neither Draco nor your soon-to-be in-laws noticed that Lestrange was there? He is a wanted criminal after all. One has to wonder what he was doing there."

"I promise you that had they known that he was there something would have been done. You can ask Narcissa Malfoy for the invitations that she sent out. He wasn't invited."

"I'll be sure to request them from her," the Auror smiled gently before laying his Quick Notes Quill down. "That's all of my questions. If anymore come to mind, I'll reach out to you."

"Thank you. Does that mean I can go now?"

"In a moment. There's someone else that would like to speak with you."

"Oh," Hermione replied with a furrowed brow. "Yes, alright."

The Auror nodded to her and got up from his seat. Beyond the door he spoke to someone briefly, but Hermione couldn't see nor hear the other person's voice. She wasn't left in the dark much longer, however, when the door reopened and a man with bright purple robes entered and sat down across from her.

"Kingsley," Hermione breathed. It took a second before she cleared her throat and amended with a soft, apologetic smile, "I mean, Minister Shacklebolt."

Kingsley returned her smile and cupped his hands on the table. "Hello, Hermione. How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay," she shrugged. "All things considered, of course."

"Yes. And with all things considered, I think that a grave mistake was made."

The word "mistake" rang through Hermione's mind, but she didn't interrupt. She saw within those few seconds that while Kingsley had appeared happy to see her, there was also a burden weighing on him. His sigh released the rest of it. "I know that the match between you and Mr. Malfoy was a lottery, but it should have been reconsidered. The past between you two shouldn't have been ignored and judging from tonight's events I'm even more sure about it. I've spoken with Arthur Dewberry —he's the Department Head of Marriages and Divorces. We've agreed to allow you and Mr. Malfoy to have a redraw."

We've allowed you and Mr. Malfoy to have a redraw.

A sharp pain radiated through Hermione's chest. A redraw? Kingsley was offering her a redraw? The pain and pressure she was feeling had deepened into the pit of her stomach and her heart raced. Her thoughts were going at a million miles per minute, masking her reply to the Minister that she was almost sure had remained unspoken and in her mind.

"I didn't think that a redraw was even possible."

"Normally no," Kingsley admitted, "but there are ways for it to be done. As you can imagine, those methods aren't widely publicized or else everyone would ask for one. Instead, the Department of Marriages and Divorces have been logging complaints from paired off couples and swapping partners as seen fit. We can add you and Mr. Malfoy to the list and work on finding new matches for you."

Hermione had been staring Kingsley in the eye as he spoke, but now she was focusing on the table. Maybe if she didn't look at him, maybe she could forget what he had told her. She could pretend that she wasn't just given the opportunity of a lifetime that she couldn't take. Or could she? She and Draco weren't married yet. The curse had only taken effect because the marriage law had, technically, bounded them together. What if they found new partners?

"Are you alright?"

Hermione snapped her eyes to him. She had apparently drifted off into her own world. Despite this, her hand had gravitated to her heart, and she was now aware of her shallow breaths and the tightness that filled her lungs.

"I don't want a redraw."

Kingsley blinked and his mouth fell open despite the attempt to keep it closed. "I'm sorry?"

"I don't want a new match," she repeated, the words weighing down her tongue, but lessening the discomfort in her chest. "Draco and I have our differences, yes, but we're pushing them aside to make this work."

"But the circumstances —"

"—aren't the same?" Hermione finished. "You have no idea," she added and doing her best not to let real tears flow unlike the ones she had faked for Lestrange. "I'm sure that there will be more nights like tonight, but we'll get through it together. Draco's already protected me once. I know that he'll keep doing it."

Hermione knew that Kingsley was confused. The pause that he now took wasn't from that confusion, however, but she knew that he was giving her time to rethink her words and tell him what she should be saying. It didn't happen, and Kingsley let out a resigned sigh as he nodded, conceding to this unforeseen set of events.

"Alright. I'll take you to Mr. Malfoy and then the both of you may go."

They both stood and Kingsley held the door open and let Hermione leave. Apparently, Draco had been questioned in an interrogation room at the end of the hall, and he turned when her door opened, obviously surprised that the Minister was following her.

"Everything alright?" he asked after bidding a curt nod to Kingsley.

"Yes, it's fine. Let's get out of here."

Usually observant, Draco found it odd that Hermione had yet to catch him looking at her from the corner of his eye. She was held captive by whatever thoughts were floating around in her mind, and not even a clever quip or soft touch from him could release her from them.

Draco sighed and downed his second glass of aged brandy before reaching for the bottle to pour a third. They had returned to the Manor a little over two hours ago. Naturally, his parents had been still awake and waiting to hear what Aurors had asked their son and soon-to-be daughter-in-law and what they had answered in return. A small debriefing had occurred before Draco and Hermione bid his parents goodnight and retreated to his bedroom. They had dressed for bed, but Hermione (much to Draco's surprise) had wanted a nightcap. At this present moment while he was sipping on his third nightcap, Hermione was still cradling her first.

With a frustrated groan, Draco turned away from the minibar and faced his fiancée. "You lied."

This roused Hermione some and she finally looked up.

"Back at the Ministry you said that everything was fine, but clearly it's not. Something that was said or done upset you. What was it? Was it the Minister?" he tacked on the question without waiting for her to reply. "It is, isn't it? I thought it strange that he was in the interrogation room with you. What did he want?"

Hermione took a deep breath and set aside the glass of brandy in her hands. With it on the coffee table and nothing to no longer distract herself with, she blurted it out.

"The Minister offered a re-draw."

"He what?"

"Long story short? The Minister felt bad for me. He said, and I quote, that a "grave mistake was made" and offered me —offered us —a chance to marry other people."

Hermione paused to let the news sink in. She had been stuck in a reverie all this time because she didn't know how to tell him that they had missed their only opportunity to be free. Granted, Draco would have still been cursed and some other unfortunate witch would have been in her stead, but there would have been a moment. A single moment of reprieve where they would be free to think and feel of their own volition and not be compelled by wiles of a supernatural sort.

Now that the bomb had been dropped, Hermione watched as Draco's brows furrowed, his eyes darting from left to right as the information rattled around his brain, and his jaws clench repeatedly. She waited, patiently, for what he would say, and when he did manage to speak, it was perfect —poetic even.

"Life's a bitch," Draco breathed. He locked eyes with Hermione before suddenly chuckling. That low rumble from his throat escalated to an actual laugh, and without warning he threw the brandy-filled glass across the room. It hit the wall smashed into a dozen pieces, the ground now littered with glass and alcohol. "Our lives are a mess," he continued to laugh. "Can you believe it?"

Draco kept laughing, and soon Hermione joined in. Her shoulders shook at first, then the raucous joy left her lips as she truly considered the situation. It was hilarious in the most terrible way, and the more she thought about it, the more she laughed, and the more she laughed, the wetter her eyes became. The wetter they were, the more tears overflowed, and the more they overflowed, the saltier the taste in her mouth.

"You should've been there when I told him no," Hermione giggled and cried at the same time as she rose from the couch. "I wanted to say yes, but I couldn't do it. I couldn't leave you. The pain that I felt at the mere thought of it was just awful. Merlin," she shook her head as she wiped her tears, "I don't know what's worse. The idea of leaving you or saying no to mental and emotional freedom."

"I wish I could've seen your face," Draco manically cackled as he picked up another glass and chucked it. When he turned to face Hermione, she could see it, —the glossy look over the whites of his eyes, and the clear sheen that travelled from their corners down his cheeks. "It must've been the best poker face, but you were dying on the inside."

"Yes," she admitted, sniffled, and then laughed. "I was dying. I'm dead."

"Oh, no you're not," he replied as he walked over and scooped her into his arms. "They're dead. All of them out there. All because my bloody parents saw fit to seal our fates." Draco grinned and swiped his upper lip with his tongue. He stared at his future wife, eyes blood shot, but a happy smile on her face to rival that of a sinister clown. "You're stuck with me."

"Yes, I am."

"We're screwed."

Hermione swallowed deeply, but nodded nonetheless. "Yes, we are."

"You love me."

"I do love you."

"Good," Draco said as he kissed her roughly. He bit her lip hard enough to draw blood, but he licked it away and got lost in her touch as her hands grasped the sides of his neck. "Just promise me something," he whispered against her lips, travelling slowly down her neck and across her shoulder as his hands slid across them and let the straps of her negligee fall to the sides. "Find a way to break the curse." He lifted his head to look her in the eye, his right hand purposely travelling down her left arm to make it to her hand. "You're a smart and wise woman," he said, his fingers caressing the ring he had given her, "you'll be able to do it."

Hermione interlocked her hand with Draco's and squeezed tightly. His tears were gone and so were hers. All that was left now was an unspoken agreement that could potentially change the course of their lives.

Not tonight, of course. Hermione loosened her grip on Draco's hand and brought it and her other hand to her negligee's straps and let it gracefully slip to the floor. She relished in the way his eyes roamed every inch of her and the insatiable lust that had gripped them at Rodolphus' demise came rushing back.

"You killed someone," she said as she hooked her thumbs into the sides of her underwear and pushed them down until they joined her negligee on the floor. "We also just found out what a sick sense of humor the universe has. I need you to take off your clothes, please."

Whatever fit of self-loathing that had remained in Draco was instantly wiped away. Instead, he smirked at his witch and tutted. "After everything you've been through in the past few hours, you're still so polite."

"Fine," Hermione smirked back, "fuck me into the floor."

Those words were music to Draco's ears — not because of its vulgarity, and not because it was the greenlight to do just as Hermione had said. It was because he needed it. He allowed her to undress him because, just for a moment, he needed to be cared for and tended to. Draco trailed his mouth over her body, forcing himself to sink to his knees so that he could nibble and bite on the inside of her thigh. He felt Hermione's hands through his hair and an unexpected pull when his tongue darted pass her lips. It reminded him that this was real. Every sound of pleasure was needed to drown out every negative thought on how his life had gone to shit in record time.

At least he still had Hermione. Something inside told him that she would keep him sane in a way that killing couldn't. He would do the same for her. More than just their lives depended on it.

Author's note: For anyone who may have read the play "No Exit" by Jean-Paul Satre can probably understand why I chose the title. To be trapped by choosing to be trapped is an interesting concept, and very relevant to Hermione here.

I also dedicated this chapter to LadyKenz347, Frumpologist, and Elle-Morgan Black. The two former ladies run a podcast called Wine, Wands and Waffling about fanfiction that you can find on Spotify, Apple, and Google. They had Elle on a segment and she recc'ed this story (thank you!). All three them had such lovely things to say about me, so I just wanted to say thanks and that you guys made my day when I was feeling really sick lol. Much love and hugs!

-WP :)