Chapter II:
They spent the morning slumped on Harry and Ron's beds in the Gryffindor boy's' dorm room in companionable silence. She'd expected Harry to be angrier, but he just seemed to have no energy. None of them did. He didn't even seem hungry, but she forced him to eat a sandwich, always convinced that good test results could never be achieved on an empty stomach. She didn't have to convince Ron, even their impending loss of freedom couldn't scare away his ever-growling appetite.
The test was a strange combination of a genuine examination at those tables that will fill anyone with dread as teachers patrolled to prevent cheating, with questions on magical knowledge clearly designed to determine intelligence, and the type of quiz in Witch Weekly Ginny always tried to force her to do when they were at the Burrow. It went from impossibly difficult magical questions to out of the following which would be a deal breaker: selfishness like a mermaid, having the IQ of a troll or snoring like a dragon! With questions like that Hermione finished with plenty of time to spare, so once she'd written down the answer to the last question; how long the test took her, she chewed on her pencil unconsciously. Bored, she waited and watched the others. Someone else was bored too. Across the hall, as they were arranged in alphabetical order, Malfoy seemed to finish just after her. He was always second place to her. His daddy would be so disappointed, she thought with amusement. He seemed to have a different way of passing the time. Harry was right in front of him and Malfoy seemed to think it was hilarious to blow air from his mouth on the back of the Boy Who Lived's neck, causing him to itch it intermittently and Flitwick came over to see if he was sending someone secret signals. All Hermione could do was roll her eyes. This was still a test after all, and she wasn't going to get her paper ripped up.
After the test the three friends compared their answers out by the Black Lake, as they usually did. And as usual, the boys were anxious about Hermione's answers being much better than theirs. "We answered nothing alike," said Ron disappointedly, then blushed at the implication of what he'd accidentally revealed. Hermione did too because whilst she loved Ron as a friend and being paired with a friend wouldn't be the worst thing in the world, she did want love, even if everyone saw her as a stoic bookworm incapable of the feeling. Thankfully Harry missed the whole awkward exchange because Ginny had just appeared with Luna, Neville and Dean. He clenched his fists as he saw her laugh at something Dean said and Hermione's heart jolted for him. She rested her head on his shoulder sadly and told him everything would work out. Kingsley must have their best interests at heart.
Every day the Ministry deliberated on pairings things became more tense back at Hogwarts. Students snapped at teachers, broke down crying or told their friends they loved them all without any punishment; the adults were clearly pitying them. Malfoy had a stream of girls in and out of his room at all hours, clearly trying to sample every flavour Hogwarts had to offer before he was forced to have stick with just one thereafter. Finally, a month later, a swarm of grey owls swooped into the Great Hall at the unusual time of dinner rather than breakfast, the younger students marvelling as the older ones held their breath.
The tearing of paper was accompanied by shrieks of joy and horror, sometimes difficult to tell apart, but some students clutched their letters without opening them. The Golden Trio were three such students. "You go first," Ron encouraged Harry, who was busy watching Ginny, who had opened her letter and was not watching him.
Hermione grabbed both their hands, and their attention. "Let's do it together." They agreed, and counted up to do it on three. Harry grimaced, Ron looked up and down the hall repeating "who the heck is Sally-Anne Perks" whilst Hermione burst out laughing. It wasn't an amused laugh. It was a 'This is not real and what else can I do' laugh. It was the same feeling she'd gotten when she'd learnt Malfoy would be her co-head, except a hundred times worse, because now Malfoy wouldn't just be in her life for this year. He would be her husband.
"You self-absorbed twit, Ronald Weasley!" Exclaimed a blotchy faced girl further down the table from them, causing Ron to turn in confusion, pointing a finger at his chest questioningly. "We've been in the same house longer than you're supposed to attend Hogwarts and you still don't know my name?" Ron gave his wife-to-be a placating smile then winced to the two of them and asked who they had.
"Daphne Greenglass," a surprised Harry revealed, his ginger friend practically falling out of his seat in horror as he heard the Slytherin's name. They glanced across the hall and received a little three fingered wave from the blonde wedged between Parkinson and Nott.
"What about you 'mione?" A still gobsmacked Ron asked. She shook her head.
Harry raised an eyebrow. "It can't be any worse than mine."
Hermione snorted. "Oh it certainly can."
Her two friends exchanged a look and then turned back to the Slytherin table. "No," "it can't be," they said at the same time.
"Professor, this must be a mistake," Malfoy and Hermione said in synch, and then glared at each other at the insolence that one would dare to steal the other's words. The headmistress sighed and collapsed into her desk chair, summoning some tea and offering it to the two students who'd followed her up there. They both shook their heads no, but reluctantly took the chairs opposite her desk, too close to each other for their comfort.
"Mr Malfoy, Miss Granger," McGonagall peered at them over her spectacles. "I do not imagine that the Ministry will allow anyone, even the two Head students, out of this law."
"But we have nothing in common!" Exclaimed Malfoy, which infuriated her to no end because she'd wanted to say that.
McGonagall raised an eyebrow. "You don't think so?" They both looked at her as if she'd started spitting pixies. "You're both top of the class, and you both have the qualities to be Head students." Hermione had never considered that. She supposed perhaps they did share some qualities, but that was the exact problem with a test to determine romance, it didn't take account of other factors like, say... history or hatred or disgust. "I appointed you both not because I thought it would be easy for you but because I thought you could work together to do the school some good. In fact, don't you think it would be persuasive for everyone if you two were the first to get married." She phrased it like a question but her voice was decisive. On that dismissive note they both stood up. Before leaving Hermione caught the eye of Dumbledore's portrait, which winked at her, and then Snape's, which seemed to be smirking- she'd never seen his face in anything but a perpetual frown. When he saw her looking the expression immediately flipped upside down.
Once she'd left McGonagall's office Hermione began to storm off but her dramatic exit was ruined when Malfoy grabbed her arm and yanked her beside him. "Get off me!"
"Stop shrieking like a banshee," he said drolly. "I don't want my hands on your filthy mudblood body any more than you do, but we need to talk."
She scowled at him. "We're not going to link arms and stroll around the grounds together just because we're being temporarily forced to mate."
"Certainly not," he sounded outraged by the notion. "But I have conditions."
"Conditions!" She spluttered. "I didn't propose to you!"
"One," Malfoy continued over her as though she'd never spoken. "You will not interact romantically with anyone but me. That means no secret snogging with Weasel or nasty necking with Pothead."
"Obviously! I'm not a slut," she said. "But the same goes for you."
"Fine," he agreed. He couldn't have anyone else to sleep with by now anyway. "Two, you will not give any statements to the press without my express approval."
"You're not Tom Cruise, Malfoy," she rolled her eyes.
"Keep the muggle references to a minimum as well," he shuddered. "I realise you come from an average family Granger but mine are celebrities and anyone with the Malfoy name will act in a way befitting it."
"What if I don't want the Malfoy name?" He just genuinely looked confounded now, as if he couldn't possibly comprehend that anyone would prefer a muggle name to his own high-class one.
"You're changing your name," he continued right on, and she took a hefty breath but ironically uttered "equality" as they reached their common room. McGonagall was really pushing for this unity thing. Apparently the password to Gryffindor was 'respect'. "Four, your progenitors will not be visiting us at Malfoy Manor. My family and I may just about be able to tolerate your presence but any more muggles will stink up the whole house." God, life with Malfoy and his prejudiced parents locked up in that ancient place with no friends or family of her own unless a little half-demon baby showed up. It was a frightening prospect.
"I wouldn't want my parents subjected to your family's heinousness anyway," she sat down in one of the armchairs and he stretched out across the sofa like a lazy cat in the sun. "But I will be visiting them, especially if we have a child. They'll want to see their grandchild."
Draco nodded his consent. He clearly had a lot more things to say, but he just added one more for the time being, seemingly surprised she hadn't objected to staying at his family home and perhaps not wanting to push it. "When we're not... procreating," they both shivered at the word. "You'll have your own chambers at the manor."
"Just like Queen Elizabeth and Prince Philip," she laughed. He just rolled his eyes at her constant muggle referencing and left without so much as a goodbye.
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