Chapter IV:
AN: I wanted to try something else with this story and I'm quite proud of it but Draco isn't the main villain, it is Dramione even though he does some awful things. It's explained later in the story but if anyone doesn't want a story like this that's fine. Otherwise, read and review!
Everyone wanted to know how Saturday night had been: Ginny in a gossiping excitable way; Harry and Ron ready to pummel Malfoy if he'd hurt her; random students who wanted to know when they could be expecting a grey eyed bushy haired bouncing baby. She didn't want to talk to any of them so after she failed to swallow anything at breakfast on Monday she sent a message that she was sick and burrowed under her covers, unwilling to face her friends or her classmates or, most of all, him. Everyone was sure to be worried because she'd never taken a sick day from school, but she didn't mind at all. She just lay there in bed all day, allowing herself to feel sorry for herself, until her door creaked open. A heavenly demon was stood at the door of her bed with a tray. "Get out," she hissed at him.
Malfoy placed the tray on her lap and jerked his head at it. "McGonagall told me to bring it up so you didn't starve. Now that's done I'll be straight off." Except he didn't head straight off. He hesitated in the doorway. "Why are you so desperate to experience everything fully in control Granger?" He asked. "Have you heard such good things about my abilities, or are you truly that much of a control freak?"
He was impossible. He didn't understand genuine human interaction. It was pointless trying to explain, but she would anyway. "Love is beautiful Malfoy," she tried. He just chuckled.
"Says someone who has clearly never done anything more than hold hands and bat her eyelashes." He shook his head. "It's messy and ugly, especially when you're forced into it. It's easier to just lose yourself. Let yourself enjoy it."
"But it's not real," she countered. Apparently giving up, he made a strange displeased noise and left the room. She found that she could swallow a little steak and ale pie, and it warmed her up inside. A little more comfortable in more ways than one, she stopped staring into space and shut her eyes to sleep.
As the Boy Who Lived and his sidekick, Harry and Ron's weddings were also well attended. They were the next after Hermione's, as if to convince everyone else that if celebrities would submit to this stupid law then everyone else should as well. The sun had decided it was done for the year and gone into hibernation to be replaced by autumnal drizzle, so both weddings were held in the Great Hall. Others would be in McGonagall's office but the Hall was large enough to accommodate all the guests who wanted to attend these well populated three. And Daphne Greenglass at least, wanted a fabulous day. She arrived with her hair in an intricately curled hairdo tumbling all around her face in the way that looks effortless but had obviously taken maximum effort. She wasn't wearing dress robes but instead a new pure white lacy, plunging dress with pearls decorating the neckline. Hermione wasn't sure who she was trying to fool; she'd certainly seen her leaving Draco's room in his parade of women. The subject of his fiancée's friend's' mockery, Harry looked skeletal pale as the incandescent beauty approached him and even more so when she kissed him passionately on the lips to whooping applause, presumably to evoke a reaction. Surprisingly, that at last seemed to pull him out of his Ginny slump and he seemed stunned but somewhat excited as they headed off to the Room of Requirement. She saw Ginny standing by Zabini with his arm around her, looking reflective. It was certainly strange how Ron was the only one out of the four of them who hadn't been paired with a Slytherin, almost as if McGonagall was the one truly controlling the selections with her obsession with interhouse unity. Compared to his best friend, Ron was beetroot red on his own special day. It could have been the collar that was choking him, or Sally-Anne Perks' vice grip. They hadn't spoken since that awkward introduction despite a couple of botched attempts on his send. She was still giving him the cold shoulder as they headed up for their first night together, his dorm mates giving him a thumbs up and chuckling. Malfoy and Hermione had devised a timetable and it was high time for their second rendezvous as well. She had no idea what to expect. Would he be abrasive, silent, high off of love potion? She'd changed into a nightie to walk across the common room to his bedroom. They were lucky in that way she supposed. Most people had a timetable for their slot in the Room of Requirement. A few more adventurous couples experimented more freely. Ginny had told her that she and 'Blaise', for example, had met up in the prefects bathroom. It sounded like they were doing pretty well together. Ginny still hated his Slytherin guts, but apparently the hate sex was what made it so epically amazing.
Although she supposed there was nothing new to see, Hermione still knocked cautiously on the door before popping her head around the side. It was dark within, strangely. She couldn't see much, but Malfoy's room seemed like there were little places for him to be hiding. Everything was organised and placed in its correct position, so unless he was hidden in the wardrobe it didn't seem like he was in there. She stepped inside to get a closer look but no sooner had she done so than the door shut. It was pitch black without the light from outside and her breath hitched, despite knowing that she was only a foot away from escape. Reasoning that very fact to her mind, she stepped backwards, into a body. "Evening Hermione," greeted Malfoy in a low tone. It was the first time he'd ever called her by her name, the word flittering across his lips in a scandalous, dangerous way. It was a word that sounded completely wrong in his mouth.
"What are you doing?" Her words were aggressive but her tone was scared, no matter her vain attempts to sound strong. She was an awful Gryffindor. She'd been asking about the name, any other thoughts gone from her head momentarily, but of course he explained the more blatant issue that he'd trapped her in the darkness.
"I thought since we're not allowed to stimulate ourselves through enhancing our attraction we should instead turn off the lights so we can minimise our revulsion. She wished he could see the look on her face. "And that's your name, isn't it? I can't exactly call you Granger anymore, can I? And it feels like I'm speaking to myself like Longbottom's clinically insane parents if if I call you Malfoy. Come on," he grabbed her hand and she jumped. "Let's get on with it."
"Husband, you take my breath away," she rolled her eyes, a little more comfortable now Malfoy was being his usual hateful self again. She pulled down her nightie and it dropped to the floor whilst he guided them to the bed and positioned himself over her much faster than he had before. No foreplay today.
"Wife, you feel better than you look." She swatted at him furiously. It should have been better. It was so much worse. She hated the darkness, the lack of intimacy. She hated that when they were done they didn't cuddle up in bed happily, instead she grabbed her clothes and headed across the hall. She hated that she hated it. Surely it should have been the perfect arrangement. She should have imagined it was Ron or Viktor or Brad Pitt. But she hadn't wanted to. She felt like she knew his body, and even with her eyes closed she could picture it. His ruffled hair, his slim but perfectly shaped body from all that Quidditch desperate to beat Gryffindor in his final year, his lower, well-endowed area. This was messed up. She had to talk to someone before her brain overloaded trying to handle its incredulity.
