AN: I did re-title this story and re-do the summary. But it's still the same story :)

She woke up late the next morning and thanked Merlin it was Sunday. Thanked Merlin for a lot of things, actually. Including the blonde prat snoring softly beside her.

She was feeling exquisitely happy and decided to try her luck once more. She prodded him awake once more while peppering his cheeks, his nose, his forehead, with soft kisses.

"Draco," she sing-songed. "Where's my ring?"

He pulled the pillow over his face with one arm and pinched her bum lightly with the other. "Back in my bed one night and you're already after my gold?" He teased, still half asleep. "In my desk." With that he rolled over, his head cocooned in his pillow.

She smiled. He'd kept her toothbrush, her closet, her ring. She wasn't normally a girl for jewelry, but this particular piece meant a great deal. He'd been upset with her but held on to her nonetheless. It's like they'd just erased the last three weeks.

She threw the robe back on and practically skipped down the hall to his study.

It was in a tiny, perfect, black velvet box. She lost her breath a moment looking at just the box, concrete evidence that he had wanted her even before everything. Wanted her enough still to keep it.

She didn't open the box yet. She'd take it back up to him and let him put it on her when he finally deigned to wake up. He'd always been a night owl and impossible to wake before seven am. But he'd want that moment with her and she wouldn't take it from him.

There was a piece of paper snarled in the drawer just under the ring box. She wasn't one for snooping but she was very orderly and decided to pull it out and smooth it out. Perhaps she could set it in a book to smooth out the wrinkles.

And then she happened to read it.

Draco burst into a library moments later, his own robe haphazardly thrown over one arm and the sash trailing behind him like a tail.

"Hermione, don't—" he cut off short and paled.

She had read it twice and had to put it down on the desk because her hands were still shaking so badly. She was blinking back tears—at she didn't even know what—when he had burst in.

"I did," she said quietly but matter-of-factly. "I already did."

He approached her slowly, trying to cover himself with the robe as he went. "Hermione, we should talk about this," he whispered.

She shook her head and felt the rest of her body shake. "I don't even know what to say to you right now." At that, she finally gasped out a sob and turned away from him. She couldn't look at him. She didn't even know him.

She stood on shaky legs. She needed to leave but she was still dressed only in her robe. She had clothes in his room and some still scattered across the parlor. She tried to leave but he blocked her path.

"We need to talk about this," he said. "Please. Hermione, please,"

She tried to get past him but he grabbed her and she fell against his chest. "Let go," she said, softly at first, and then she yelled. "Let go, Draco!"

He did but still stood between her and the exit.

" You knew," she accused. "You lied to me!"

He shook his head. "I never lied to you. I would never lie to you. I just… omitted facts."

She didn't know if she should laugh or dry heave at that. "That is most disgusting technicality. You weren't honest with me. You knew about the marriage law and didn't say anything for weeks!"

"I couldn't," he pleaded. "Blaise and I both would have gone to prison for a very, very long time if anyone knew he'd told me. It would have been treason."

"You could have trusted me," she insisted. "You should have trusted me."

He shook his head. "Of course I trusted you, you stupid bint, but that's not the point!" He yelled.

"Then what!" She yelled back. She could feel a hot blush of anger rising up her neck. "What is "the point"!"

He looked torn. There was tension in his face and his hands spasmed. There was a long moment of silence between them.

"Do you remember your pregnancy scare?" He asked finally, quietly.

That caught her off-guard and she nearly fell back to the chair. He had momentarily stunned the anger in her. "Of course I do," she said. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Everything," he insisted. "Do you remember what you told me, after?"

She shook her head. "It was a blur."

He took a hesitant step towards her. "You told me it was better this way. You told me you knew I'd try to be honorable about it, to marry you before you had the baby, but that you'd always wonder, for the rest of your life, if it had been out of honor or love that I'd married you. And you didn't want to have to wonder."

She remembered. Gods, she remembered. They had been lying sleeplessly in bed after the strip had turned blue and she hadn't known what to feel. It was what she wanted. A baby. A husband. A closet. But not yet. She wasn't ready yet. He had asked if she was disappointed. And she hadn't known.

He took another hesitant step towards her. "I didn't want you to have to wonder," he whispered. "I wanted to you know, for the rest of your life, I'd married you for love." He closed the final distance between them and caught her. She folded into his chest without protest.

"When Blaise wrote me about the marriage law, I knew I'd have to be fast, or you'd spent the rest of your life wondering if it was out of love or convenience. I already had the bloody ring. But I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to wonder."

She had begun crying in earnest, her tears soaking through his silk robe to his chest.

"I have to go," she whimpered and pulled away. He caught the edges of her robe but she stumbled out of reach.

She wiped her eyes on her sleeves and even with blurry vision she could see him breaking in front of her. She was struggling to stay on her feet.

Clothes be damned, she apparated in just her robe.