Even after all these years, you've still got the emotional range of a teaspoon. – Hermione Granger
"Research, yes that's it. I just need to do a bit more research. There's got to be an answer here somewhere." Hermione Granger mumbled to herself and angrily shoved her hair into a haphazard ponytail.
The precarious tower of books teetered, but she steadied them with barely a glance. Harry and Ron knew better than to step foot into her quaint study, but her mumbling grew louder and they knew that never boded well for anyone. They jostled each other lightly, but it was Harry who finally strode forward.
"Hermione-"
"Get out, Harry." Hermione pointed to the door, while nose deep in yet another tome.
"Why don't you just tell us what happened?" Harry backed away slowly and leant against the doorjamb. "You've been locked in here for days. We're your friends and we love you."
Ron nodded encouragingly, but he hadn't the slightest inclination to invade Hermione's personal space. He had learned his lesson after years of finding himself flung against the wall. It wasn't something he was anxious to revisit. Instead, he shrugged and made himself comfortable on Hermione's settee.
"I had to Floo to the Ministry naked. NAKED!" Hermione shrieked.
"You still haven't told us why," Harry prodded.
"Why don't tell you tell me why I saw you hunkered down in Naughty Nargles, Harry?" Hermione stabbed her quill through another bit of parchment and pretended it was Harry's face.
"Th-that's not important. You owled us for moral support and we're trying here Hermione, but all you've done is shout at us," Harry tried to look slightly intimidating yet he failed in the face of Hermione's ire and retreated to safety.
"You've got another owl from Malfoy," Ron shouted from the safety of the sofa and spewed bits of meat and cheese onto the parchment. "He says if you don't answer him he's going to Apparate directly into your flat and set it ablaze. Wow, he's really angry."
Hermione groaned loudly and went so far as to smack her forehead against the hardwood of her desk. She didn't want to deal with him. She wanted to avoid him. She wanted to research until there wasn't a book left unread. One of them had to hold the answer to her freedom.
"He can't. My wards are nearly impenetrable and they most definitely will not allow a sanctimonious pompous arse to venture into—" Hermione's snort of irritation was disrupted by the recognisable pop of Apparition. "You've got to be kidding me. This is absolutely ridiculous. He didn't even wait for a proper reply! This is my home! I have neither the time nor the inclination to deal with his petulant, infuriating—"
"Come now love, there's no need to be so disparaging to your husband." Draco Malfoy sauntered into Hermione's sitting room and dropped his cloak onto Ron's head.
He ignored the narrowed green eyes and focused on the furious witch. She was absolutely glorious when she was angry and he wasn't afraid to admit to such things. He watched the way she stood from her desk and rounded it slowly. He smirked when he saw her wand firmly clenched in a white-knuckled fist.
"You are not my husband!"
Harry interceded quickly. He knew exactly what Hermione was going to do and the last thing he wanted was to write a report detailing the Hexes cast between Ministry employees. He jumped forward, slammed the office door, and warded it as quickly as possible. As an afterthought, he Silenced it as well, but only after he winced at Hermione's shriek.
"Malfoy, what the fuck are you doing here? She'll kill you." Harry held the door handle as an extra precaution, but he knew it wouldn't hold long if Hermione was determined to escape.
"Do you honestly think I want to be here, Potter? I must speak with her. Do me a solid and uhm, keep Weasley from leaving, would you?" Draco roughly shoved Harry to the side and carefully dismantled the pesky wards on the door.
He wasn't the least bit surprised how easily he was able to remove them. Draco knew Potter always went for the easy and obvious, which allowed him an inside look into the man's thought processes. He twisted the knob and quietly closed the door behind him.
"Get out, Harry." Hermione's head rested upon her desk and her twisted curls hid her from view.
Draco's conscience twinged, at least that's what he thought it was, as he heard the upset and defeat in her voice. He stepped forward quietly and rounded the desk with held breath. There was something utterly serene about seeing the usually composed Gryffindor succumb to the stresses of their situation.
His hands found their way to her shoulders, and Draco smirked when she sighed. His strong fingers worked the kinks from her tense muscles and it wasn't long before Hermione had leant back in her chair. Her eyes were closed and his fingers were lost in her hair as he kneaded her neck.
Hermione hummed lightly and her pretty mauve lips parted. Draco's grey eyes dropped to her cotton shirt and he swallowed hard. He had seen those nipples. He had felt them in his hands, tasted them even, and his slacks tightened considerably at the memory.
His fingertips teased her collarbone in small, soft strokes. The gooseflesh broke across her skin and while Hermione was remiss to admit it, the massage was quite sensual. She shifted slightly and it was then the hands dropped and covered her aching breasts.
"Harry! What the hell are you doing?!" Hermione's dark eyes flew open and she grasped the hands mauling her chest.
She gasped as the lithe fingers twisted and pulled. Hermione arched her back and looked overhead to see the leering half smile of Draco Malfoy. Her thighs pressed together and she could smell her own arousal, which caused her to blush furiously.
"As if Potter would ever make you feel this way?" Draco chuckled and nonchalantly drew the cotton cream shirt off Hermione's trembling body. "No bra, aren't you a saucy minx?"
"Give me back my shirt, Malfoy." Hermione crossed her arms over her bare breasts and quickly stood.
Draco kicked the chair from between them and grabbed the back of Hermione's neck. She yelped as he forced her face to the desk and kicked her feet apart. She shuddered as she felt the hot tongue along her spine and realised she was conflicted about her feelings on the matter.
"You don't need it, kitten." Draco wedged himself between her thighs and rocked into her gently. "First, I'm going to shag you, afterwards we'll confront Weasley. Later, we'll shower and dress in order to have dinner with my parents."
"You're mad. You're absolutely mad. I am not shagging you. We are not showering. I am definitely not having dinner with your parents!" Hermione squirmed against the hardwood of her desk, yet only succeeded in freeing her breast from the inkwell jabbed into the side of it.
"I love these strange little trousers you're wearing. Oh, no knickers, kitten? You are a naughty, naughty girl." Draco purred in her ear, his lips brushing the obvious puncture marks on Hermione's neck.
"Stop undressing me!" Hermione's cheeks blazed with embarrassment while Draco slid her loungewear off her hips and shoved them down her thighs.
Draco quickly disrobed. It amused him to see Hermione splayed across her desk. He felt powerful when she didn't move, despite the fact he had released her. He liked the way his pale hands looked on her lightly tanned hips. He liked many things about her, but then she spoke and ruined everything.
"Do you really want me to stop?" Draco swiped across her sex ever so slowly and chuckled when his fingers came away moist.
"I want to understand." Hermione finally pushed herself up from the desk and her cheeks were a wondrous shade of red as she averted her toffee eyes from his nudity.
"Are you always this difficult?" Draco's fingers dug into her hips, and it was a simple matter to spin her 'round and sit her on the desk. "You just had to try on the ring, didn't you? You couldn't leave well enough alone, could you?" Draco sneered, but it wasn't nearly as nasty as Hermione expected it to be.
"I-I…what are you doing?" Hermione bit her lip and dropped her eyes to the hardened cock between her thighs. Even she had to admit it was probably the sexiest thing she'd ever seen.
"You obviously don't listen. I've already informed you as to our itinerary. Could you be anymore maddening? On second thought, don't answer that. You've always been an irritant." Draco's slow hiss segued into a stifled moan the moment he was completely seated within her.
"I don't want to have sex with you. I definitely don't want to marry you, and having any sort of meal with your parents is absolutely out of the question. Would you—would you get your penis out of me?!"
"Penis, really, Granger?" Draco chuckled and kept a careful eye on the flush spreading across Hermione's skin with his lazy thrusts. "It's a cock, and despite your words, you don't really want me to stop. You like it, I can tell. You bite your lip when something excites you."
"It's a normal bodily response. You're my partner and sometimes you're not completely irritating, but I do not like you enough to do this with you." Hermione slammed her lips closed and gave forth a valiant effort to quell the moan, but she failed.
"Oh, I don't like you. I do like fucking you, I have to admit that, but on a personal level, I really just sort of want to smother you." Draco forward and captured her lips in order to nip them lightly.
Hermione's hands flew to his shoulders. She had no desire to recline upon her desk, despite the growing heat in her abdomen. It wasn't long before she rocked with him and his thrusts sped with her participation. She met him thrust for thrust and her limbs tightened, even as the droplets of sweat slid between her bouncing breasts.
"I don't like you either. You're moody. You're obstinate. You're—oh my gods, right there. You're unpleasant, and I don't know why Ron puts up with you." Hermione sunk her teeth into his shoulder in order to muffle the sounds of her release.
"I don't know how anyone puts up with you. Terrible sense of fashion, bossy little swot, but at least you're pretty." Draco nearly withdrew completely, only to flex his hips forward and fill her. There was something about her breathy little moans that set his skin on fire and knowing she was now his made him feel incredibly powerful.
"You think I'm pretty?" Hermione had long since given up pretending she wasn't incredibly aroused, especially now that she felt the flutterings of release begin.
"Shut up." Draco's head dropped to the crux of her shoulder, relieved to feel her shatter around him. A few thrusts later, and he was grunting in her ear, as he held her slick body tightly against his.
"You said the compulsion would dissipate when we consummated the first go 'round," Hermione whispered in his ear and caught the earlobe between her teeth.
Draco avoided her eyes as he searched the room for his discarded clothing. She winced as he withdrew, but that couldn't be helped. He tossed her his button-down shirt and slipped into his boxers.
"Come on, we've got to confront Weasley and shower. We've only two hours before dinner." Draco's hand held her elbow to steady her while she slipped on his shirt with a heavy frown.
"I can't go out there like this, you're mad. Wait, why do we have to confront Ron?" Hermione searched for her loungewear with narrowed eyes.
"I sort of uhm vanished the rest of your clothes. Don't look at me like that. I'll buy you all the hideous outfits you wish." He moved toward the door and took his time removing the enchantments.
"You didn't answer me, don't think I didn't notice." She ignored his less than subtle dig at her wardrobe in order to return to the question at hand.
"Yeah uhm, I wasn't compelled to shag you. I just wanted to. Can we go now?" Draco rolled his eyes heavenward and opened the door.
Hermione glanced down at the shirt she was wearing and closed her eyes. She was grateful it hung slightly passed her knees, but she still felt as though she was on display. She was conflicted. She was angry. She was confused, yet she was also incredibly satisfied.
With his hand firmly on the small of her back, they strode into the sitting room in complete silence. Draco's hand curved around her hip, and he held her to his side. He didn't much appreciate the way Potter was staring at Hermione and Draco wished to make his claim known.
"Weasley, Potter here told Granger something I find incredibly interesting. I'm going to pretend for a moment we're not friends. I don't murder my friends you see." Draco's grey eyes stared hard at Ron. "From my understanding, you told Potter you were planning on proposing to Granger. I find that very, very interesting considering you weren't dating at the time. Why would you tell him such a thing?"
"Wait," Harry interrupted with a scratch of his dark hair, "I told Hermione that bit during the Ministry function. I might have been intoxicated, but I remember that much. How did you know that?" Harry's first inclination was to accuse Hermione, but he couldn't imagine a scenario where she would willingly confide in Malfoy.
"I was beneath the desk." Draco wiggled his eyebrows in quite the lascivious manner and smirked as the green-eyed wizard paled. "If you would answer the question, Weasley."
Ronald Weasley swallowed hard. He wasn't afraid of Draco Malfoy. They'd forged their strange friendship years before, but Hermione was another matter. He had visions of bat-shaped bogeys chasing him, yellow birds attacking him, and fists flying toward his face.
"Well, you see—" Ron paused and winced. "This is your fault!" He felt better, immensely better, as he allowed his angry words to flow forth. "You're always telling me about the merits of being Slytherin, not to mention the two of you are always arguing. You row more often than Hermione and I ever did, which is stupid really. If you just took a moment, you'd see how bloody alike the two of you are. So yeah, I used some uh underhanded measures, so what?" Ron puffed out his chest angrily, but he was suddenly confident.
"Ron, what did you do?" Hermione twined her fingers with the ones at her waist, and the squeeze of reassurance calmed her growing ire.
Harry finally stopped pacing the sitting room and plunked down into a plaid armchair near the hearth. He wasn't particularly fond of the idea that the information he'd shared with Hermione had been manipulated. He might work side by side with Slytherins and Gryffindors alike, but after Dumbledore's manipulations, it was quite the sore spot.
"I mentioned to Harry that I was considering proposing to Hermione. I was lying, obviously! Cor, I love her and all, but marry her? Definitely not, sorry Mione." Ron offered a bashful shrug before he continued, "I knew Harry is the biggest gossip in existence, which was perfect. A few days prior Malfoy's mum sent an owl with a ring. I had uhm, I had overheard Hermione and Harry laughing at my expense mind you, and so I left the ring on her desk. I most definitely did not know it would cause the two of you to shag like bunnies or anything." Ron sighed with the happiness of relief and sunk into the comfortable pinstriped sofa.
"How did you know it was my mother's owl?" Draco's stormy eyes narrowed and he watched the way Weasley's throat bobbed.
"Why—why would do that to me, to us?" Hermione's knees weakened, and it was then she noticed it was Draco that kept her on her feet.
"You're good for each other, you just don't know it yet." Ron closed his eyes as the weight of the world was lifted from his shoulders with his confession. "I also might have had a small conversation with Narcissa when Malfoy and I interrupted that tea."
"Perhaps you should take Ronald with you to dinner with your parents. I'm sure he wouldn't be against explaining to them why their only son is now committed to marrying a woman they consider to have dirty blood." Hermione tapped her foot with her fire blazing in her eyes and Ron leapt from the sofa.
"What's that Harry? Have dinner with you and Lavender? That sounds like a wonderful idea. Let's go now! We should give these crazy kids some privacy, they've got a lot to do before they have dinner with the Malfoys." Ron yanked Harry toward the Floo, and before Hermione could blink, they were gone in a puff of green smoke.
"Come on, Mrs Malfoy, we've got to ready ourselves. Dinner with the elder Malfoys is always a formal affair. I do hope you've something presentable in your wardrobe." Draco tightened his hold on Hermione's hand and guided her toward where he assumed her bedroom was located.
"I am not Mrs Malfoy yet and I never will be if I have any say about it and furthermore—"
"Yes, you are. You put on the ring, which Sealed the Contracts. The papers have already been magically submitted to the Ministry. The wedding itself will be a societal affair of the grandest proportions, but in the eyes of the Wizarding World, we're already committed." Draco huffed with irritation and flung open the door to her wardrobe.
Hermione sat on the edge of her bed and gnawed her fingernails. It was a dream. It wasn't real. It was just some horrid dream and if she closed her eyes, counted to ten and opened them, everything would be fine. Except, she did that and nothing had changed. She was still sitting on the edge of her bed, with Draco Malfoy snarling at every dress he encountered, while she could feel the evidence of their sexual release on her thighs.
"I'm not living at the Manor." Hermione's knees knocked together at the very thought of stepping foot into the Manor, the idea of living there was unconscionable.
"Bloody hell Granger, even I don't wish to live at the Manor. I'd never ask you to live there, and I barely tolerate you. Dinner is being held at the cottage anyway." Draco called to her from her wardrobe, as he continued to discard most items as unacceptable. "You've loads of green for a Gryffindor."
"I love green. I've always loved green. It has absolutely nothing to do with Houses or rivalries, or any such nonsense. It's just a colour." Hermione frowned at the frizzy hair that fell into her face and clamped her eyes shut. "We're really stuck in this, aren't we? This isn't some horrid nightmare, and I'm not going to wake up in a cold sweat. I couldn't find a way to break the enchantments, to sever the Contract. I found loads of disgusting antiquated ways to turn one's spouse into a slave, bind their soul to yours, and various other stomach-churning spells, but there was absolutely no mention of the consequences of attempting to sever the ties that bind. Why is that, Malfoy?"
"You're Muggle-born. Stop murdering me with your eyes, Granger. It's not an insult, it's a fact. I'm Sacred Twenty-Eight. There are numerous dusty old tomes that detail the specific rules and I'd show them to you, but I can't. They're Cursed with such Dark Magic, even I wouldn't touch them. The Ministry confiscated most, if not all of them, and I don't even blame them. They were positively, disgustingly, medieval." Draco plucked a garment bag from the back of the wardrobe and unzipped it carefully. He perused the gown slowly, and with a nod, he finally ventured back into the bedroom. "A Betrothal Contract hasn't been severed in centuries. Sure, some were magically severed, but that was only due to death of one of the parties. Even then, the witch or wizard was forced to adhere to the rules of proper mourning, which when left unspecified, had the potential to last a lifetime."
"That's…that's cruel." Hermione crossed her semi-toned legs at the knee and bounced her foot while she spun a curl around her forefinger. "What are the consequences if we," she paused, "let's just say we decide not to adhere to the contract. Let's say we decide to delay the proper ceremony and continue on with our lives and Malfoy, why are you shaking your head? I haven't finished." Hermione huffed with indignation, and Draco braced himself for yet another fascinating lecture, that didn't come.
Draco chanced her wrath and sat beside the nettled witch on the edge of the four-poster bed. If it had been anyone else, he probably would have placed a comforting hand on her knee, but Draco was particularly attached to his limbs and therefore abstained. He took a long slow breath and was thankful she allowed him a reprieve from her incessant chatter.
"The original Betrothal Contract was written with Astoria Greengrass in mind. She's alright I suppose, as far as pureblood witches are concerned, but she wasn't my choice. She's a bit spoilt, to put it mildly. Her father is the sort to bend to her every whim, which doesn't help matters." Draco rubbed the back of his neck and avoided the curious cinnamon eyes hanging on his every word. "It catered to her, the Contract, which is part of the reason I was remiss to sign it. I always knew I would be Arranged, but I had these hopes that my parents wouldn't move forward rather than…it doesn't matter."
"You thought they'd allow you to choose your own bride." Hermione supplied the words he was unwilling to say and his slow nod only solidified her thoughts on the matter. "What are the conditions? I'm guessing the Contract only altered the names of the parties and the particulars remained the same. I suppose there would also be ramifications for refusals, so tell me, Malfoy. What should I expect?" Hermione's fingers itched with the need to hastily scribble notes on parchment, but as difficult as it was, she remained still.
Draco didn't wish to waste precious time detailing every line of the Contract. He wanted to force her into the bloody shower and do something with that mess she called hair. He also knew Hermione Granger would be much more compliant if she was provided at least some of the details. He hoped it would appease her.
"The basics of any Contract I suppose, but not as iron clad in some respects. An heir is expected, obviously, and the sooner the better, at least according to the Contract. If uhm, if we were unable to produce a living child, the marriage would be dissolved after the passing of five years—"
"That's not as bad as I expected and easy enough to rectify. We'll simply-" Hermione brightened considerably, but Draco was quick to interrupt and correct.
"No, Granger, you misunderstand. If we're medically unable to produce an heir, not if we're stubbornly refusing to do so, there is a difference and it was meticulously documented. I suspect my mother had something to do with that, as she well knows my aversion to being Arranged in the first place." Draco almost felt sorry for Hermione, especially as he watched the light of excitement dull in her eyes and her shoulders slump.
"Go on then." Her voice broke, and Draco's hand patted her knee. It was awkward, but she appreciated the small gesture.
"Astoria demanded we reside at the Manor. She wanted the prestige, but I drew the line on such concessions. We have numerous properties throughout the UK, as well as holiday properties. The final decision lies with you now, though I would hope you'd take my opinions into consideration. Ordinarily, it would be my mother taking you to visit each property, however, I believe it's in our best interests if I take over that particular task. We'll require a primary residence, and one for holiday.
'Astoria made it clear that she would not be giving up her…lovers, for lack of a better term, and extended the same courtesies to me. Unless we're coming together for the sake of procreation, we would each lead our separate lives. There are various other things, such as; the number of children, which is somewhat negotiable, weekly teas with my mother, family dinners once per month, numerous charity functions, garden parties, wardrobe allowance, decorating allowance, and things of that nature. You can have your solicitor look over the Contract, once my parents furnish you with a copy."
"You're going to cheat on me?" Hermione pushed his hand off her lap and sputtered as she vacated her bedroom, in favour of running the shower.
She mumbled to herself while she waited for the water to heat. She yanked clean towels from the cubby near the sink and resisted the urge to slam them to the counter. Hermione tried to rein in her anger, but it was difficult to do with the incredible amounts of information thrust toward her.
"Granger, that's not what I was saying, but even you have to admit we clash—" Draco burst into the bathroom just as Hermione dropped his shirt from her shoulders.
She ignored him to step into the steamy waters and silently hoped he'd leave. She closed her eyes as the soothing heat worked the kinks from her shoulders and soaked her heavy hair. It was mechanical, second nature even, as she reached for the bottle of conditioner Hermione's strangled yelp as she struck hard flesh echoed in the small space.
"Get out of my shower." She spun quickly and nearly toppled over.
"You're always shouting at me. I didn't force the fucking ring on your finger. Hell, I didn't put the fucking ring on your desk in the first place. I didn't insinuate that I was going to cheat on you, or anyone for that matter. I was simply informing you as to the caveats in the Contract." Draco poured a liberal amount of conditioner into his large hand and dropped it onto the top of Hermione's head. "I'm a Malfoy as my father before me and his before him. We might be arrogant bastards, but we're not particularly fond of infidelity. My mother nearly had a case of the vapours when Astoria demanded the removal of the Fidelity Clause. I can't say I'm looking forward to spending my life with you, but even I have to admit it's better than being shackled to a self-proclaimed slag."
"My lifelong dream has always been to disrupt the incestuous lines of Purebloods, haven't you realised that by now? I was simply biding my time until I could solidify my place in misery. There's nothing better than knowing my husband's family won't waste a moment in their insidious plans to dispose of me. I won't manage a wink of sleep and I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if I commissioned a private room in the Janus Thickey Ward, but it doesn't matter at all because Draco Malfoy has to be shackled to Mudblood Granger and his happiness is above all!" Hermione sobbed then.
She didn't know whether the waters streaming down her cheeks were her tears or the shower spray. She mentally cursed Ron and plotted for the moment she'd find him alone. Hermione was startled by Draco's brooding silence, but she was still uncomfortable with his close proximity. She wanted to shout at him a bit more, but it wasn't his fault any more than it was hers. They were simply pawns in a superbly played game of chess.
"We could kill him. Would you like me to kill him for you, Granger?" Draco scratched her scalp, which elicited a moan from the trembling witch.
"Killing Ron will not solve anything, Malfoy." Hermione bit her lip to keep from lecturing him about the consequences of committing murder.
"It would make us feel better." Draco huffed and forced Hermione beneath the spray.
He concentrated on rinsing the mop of curls upon her head and was only satisfied when they hung down her back in soaked spirals. He had to admit Hermione was quite fit and her curves were nothing to scoff at, however, he still detested the idea of being forced into a relationship with her. They worked well together, but the constant barbing was not something he wanted for his home life.
Draco washed as quickly as humanly possible. A bout of nerves set in as he realised he was going to bring Hermione Granger to speak with his parents. It didn't help that she bent at the waist to scrub her legs and offered him a delectable view of her round arse. He had lascivious thoughts of shagging her senseless against the blue tiled wall, but he hadn't the time.
They vacated the shower in silence. They dressed in silence, but the tension was thick in the air. Hermione struggled to find the perfect shoes for the gown Draco had insisted upon and nearly made them late. In the end, she decided upon a shimmering pair of strappy silver heels, which complemented the deep green of her gown, but sported Slytherin colours, as well.
"Am I presentable enough for Lord and Lady Malfoy?" The bite to her words was unintentional and yet she couldn't take them back.
Draco's grey eyes roved over her slowly and Hermione felt the heat in her cheeks from his perusal. The décolletage of the gown was modest, yet it still showcased the gentle, creamy swell of her cleavage. The dark shade of green accented her eyes, not to mention the fact it clung to her every dip and curve.
She turned on her heel to glance into the mirror above her bureau and Draco sucked his breaths between his teeth. The gown was nearly backless and his fingers itched to touch her smooth skin. She was going to be the death of him, but at that particular moment, he didn't seem to mind.
"Your hair," Draco paused. "The mark needs to be exposed. Have you noticed the way it lightened? It had darkened to a deep shade of grey, but once we uh—"
"Shagged" Hermione supplied.
"Once we consummated the call of magic, it lightened back to its original hue. Even you have to admit it's an interesting bit of magic. I suspect between the ring and whatever the fuck Veela Tendencies are, we were quite supremely…fucked." Draco quite liked the way her dark curls cascaded down her bare back, but he didn't want his father to murder the girl. "Trust me," he murmured while he carefully twisted Hermione's hair and dropped it over her left shoulder.
Hermione stood eerily still, even as his fingertips brushed her shoulder. She listened as he fumbled through the wooden box on her bureau, and held her breath as he smoothly adhered a hair clasp near the base of her neck. She stiffened when Draco's thumb lightly grazed the mark on her nape, but then it was gone.
"I'm afraid the strap for my wand is visible." Hermione glanced at the long slit that bared a glimpse of her thigh in trepidation.
"I'd suggest you leave it behind, but I'm not stupid. Come on then." Draco adjusted the black bow tie of his dress robes and offered his arm. As they slowly walked toward the Floo, he cleared his throat a half dozen times before he pulled Hermione into his chest. "Forgive me, but we've got quite the show to put on tonight if we wish to escape unscathed."
"Whatever do you mean, Malfoy?" Hermione's lightly tanned hand reflexively stroked the crisp white shirt peeking beneath his cloak.
"My parents are only aware the Betrothal Contract was filed with the Ministry. The particulars weren't provided. I've been summoned and instructed to procure my fiancée. I might have insinuated we were, uh what I mean to say is—" Draco scratched the back of his neck in nervousness, and Hermione could feel his rapid heartbeat beneath her palm.
"They don't know it's me, do they? Is that what you're trying to tell me?" Hermione stared into the pensive grey eyes and saw the truth of the matter. "This is a disaster."
"It gets worse. The Greengrass family will be in attendance as well." Draco stretched forward and grasped a handful of Floo powder from the pewter dish on the mantle. "I'm absolutely positive my mother knows more than she lets on. From what Weasley said it seems those two were heavy in the plotting and decided we simply required a little push in order to live happily ever after or some such rot."
Draco nudged Hermione toward the Floo. She had closed her eyes, and he understood her consternation quite well. The last thing he wished to do was attend an uncomfortable dinner with his parents, but when the Patriarch demands your presence, one does not deny the request.
"Anything else?" Hermione's brown painted lips were smashed together in upset and Draco knew their row would be explosive.
"I told them we were in love." Draco hastily tossed the powder into the Floo and Hermione yelped as they were whisked away to their destination.