AN: I work at a grocery store and I wrote this on the back of a handful of receipts last night because I was bored during my shift. Classy author is classy. Lyrics are from Marry Me by Emilie Autumn.
-Ophelia
But when I was in his bed, and my father had sold me
I knew I hadn't any choice, hushed my voice, did what any girl would do and
When I'm beheaded at least I was wedded.
And when I am buried at least I was married.
I'll hide my behavior with wine as my savior.
For a long moment Hermione stared at her, utterly speechless. "You… what?" Surely she had misunderstood, or even misheard her altogether. Surely this was not as it appeared, not the infamous Bellatrix Black asking Hermione Granger, a Muggle-born girl, to marry her. No, there had to be something else going on, an ulterior motive.
"Didn't you hear me, Mudblood?" she sneered, annoyed that the Gryffindor did not immediately grasp the brilliance of her plan. "I think you should marry me instead of Draco. It will be the perfect way to spite the Ministry and keep us both safe. Nobody will ever see it coming." She leaned back against her stack of pillows, unbearably haughty.
That much was true, at least; nobody would see it coming. "I heard you just fine, but…" Hermione hesitated, unsure how to continue without triggering one of her awful rages. Or worse, another episode of suicidal despair. Bellatrix raised her eyebrows, smirking at the younger witch's indecision. Anger and frustration quickly overcame her and she threw caution to the wind. "I can think of many things that would be far worse than spending the rest of my life with Draco Malfoy, Bellatrix. Spending it with you is one of them. Why on earth would this be better?"
"Well, it would be better for Draco and much, much better for me. Think about it, girl. Draco doesn't want to be married and now he doesn't have to be, at least not to you. It would be more shocking and humiliating for scum such as yourself to marry someone like me rather than him, so the Ministry will be happy. And, as the wife of one of Harry Potter's closest companions, I cannot be arrested or killed, or forced to marry someone else. Don't you see? This way, everyone wins."
"Everyone but me, you mean!" Hermione stood, completely fed up with the way this awful woman regarded her as a piece of filth who could be ordered around. What made everyone think that she was just a pawn, an emotionless piece in their games to use and destroy as they will, to blindly follow commands no matter what happened along the way? The Gryffindor was absolutely livid, the injustice of it all making her see red. She turned on her heel and strode to the door, feeling Bellatrix's scornful gaze burning into her back with every step. Her hand was on the doorknob when she called out.
"Mudblood or not, you know Cissy and Lucius would expect you to produce an heir if you marry their only son. I'm sure the Ministry would as well, if their new stance is on diluting pure blood." Hermione froze in place as the words hit her. In the heavy silence that followed she could swear she heard the Death Eater's lips curl into a smug smile. This was her trump card and she knew it. She was psychotic, evil, sadistic, childish, and almost thirty years older than the enraged Gryffindor, but she was also a woman and by Merlin, not even the Ministry of Magic would be able to make Hermione have a child with her.
She slowly walked back over to the vacated chair and slumped into it, trying to avoid looking at her. A long moment passed before Bellatrix spoke again, her voice somewhat kinder than before. "That's the way Pureblood marriages go, girl." Surprised, Hermione looked up at her. The Death Eater's face was unreadable, but Hermione found the gentler tone comforting, even though it was still much harsher than that of most people. "Your parents match you with someone who you may or may not know, based purely on the age and wealth of their family. It matters not if you like each other or find the other attractive, although of course if you are considered good-looking you will have many more suitors. My parents had no less than a dozen men chosen for me, all attractive and from respectable families, but I was a proud fool at your age." She suddenly grew agitated. "I turned down the lot of them; I thought I had a choice. I thought that if I said no to all of them then they would give up and I would be free. But it doesn't work like that."
She had curled up into a ball again, seeming to speak more to herself than to the young woman she had just proposed to.
"I spent a few years after school unchained and happy, turning down suitors and laughing at the world. I wanted to be so much more than a proper Pureblood housewife, churning out sons for rich and old families and gossiping at parties. I wanted to make a name for myself, independent of a husband. I watched my classmates wed and thought myself above them, the clever eldest daughter of House Black. Daughter, that was the key part I had missed. It was a mother's duty to marry off her daughters to prominent families and get them out of the house quickly, an ancient tradition. My mother was terribly offended to have three girls and not a single son, while the rest of the family had only boys. Father didn't mind terribly but Mother was livid, she was horrified, she was disgusted. We were the biggest failures of her life when we should have been her pride and joy. Our many accomplishments meant nothing to her because we were female, and nothing we did would warm us to her. She hated us all from the moment we were born, growing more and more resentful with time. When she had me she was disappointed but hopeful that there would be sons to wash away her shame. But by the time Cissy came along, well…" She let out a humorless laugh, dark eyes blazing with fury. "You don't name your baby Narcissa because you love her." Bellatrix took a deep and steadying breath before continuing.
"Sirius and Regulus never married, and that was just fine, they were men and society expected much less of them as far as that went. But when Andy ran away Mother needed to act quickly, she needed to prove that not all of her children would betray the family. She needed to keep Cissy and I from seeing how happy our sister was and joining her. Within a week she had dug up matches for us both, with a dual wedding date set in two more weeks. There was no choice, there was no time. I had played the game and I had lost, and now I was being given as some kind of prize to Rodolphus Lestrange, whose mother was so desperate to get him out of the house that she would wed him to a shamed daughter of Black. I don't blame her." Her nose scrunched up in disgust at the very thought of the man and she seemed to shiver involuntarily. Hermione wanted to ask what had happened but felt afraid to do so and instead sat motionless, waiting for her to continue. When she didn't, the Gryffindor spoke instead.
"People still do that, then? Arrange marriages for their children? It's 1998, not 1798. That is an absolutely ridiculous tradition, what kind of twist-"
"My family would do that, that's what kind," she snapped, cutting across the younger witch sharply. "Don't you dare insult them, filthy Mudblood. You have no idea what you are talking about, none at all."
"I'll insult your family as long as you continue to insult mine. Who do you think you are, Bellatrix Black, that you can sit there and degrade me with every other breath? Who do you think you are that you consider yourself my superior by birthright? Respect is earned, I don't care how many of your ancestors could do magic."
Her eyes widened and her nostrils flared with rage; she sat up suddenly, then winced and slumped back down again. No matter how angry she was, she was still badly injured and could not summon the energy to attack. Courage bolstered by the sight, Hermione continued. "I know the biggest reason you want us to be married: you want to protect yourself. You don't care about me, or even about your nephew. You just want to do whatever you want like you always have, and try to control me in the process. Well, guess what? I'm not doing it."
"You… what?" Nobody had ever spoken to her like this, evidently. As far as she was concerned, Hermione was way out of line, and her hand reached for her wand almost automatically, itching to punish the girl for her insolence.
"There is nothing more important than family, and tradition is a part of that. Don't you understand what the Ministry is doing, trying to arrange marriages with filth? They want to destroy the family trees, make it so that there are no true Purebloods left. We're a dying branch of the Wizarding community and they want to outright destroy it. It is an outrage, an abomination, and there's nothing any of us can do to stop it." She was glaring at her with utter venom and loathing, and Hermione imagined the Death Eater in a wedding gown staring at her in the same way, and continuing to do so every day for the rest of their lives.
"Filth? Filth? That's all I am to you, is it? Do you think that's really a good way to convince me to help you?"
"Well, it's true," she snapped furiously. "You're a Mudblood, your parents were filthy little Muggles – no, do not interrupt me, I am speaking and you will bloody well listen. You were the one who asked and I am trying to kindly oblige you. The ability to do magic is part of my definition of human, thus your family is less than that, as are you. You doing magic is like a pig dressing in human clothing and demanding to be treated equally. It's absurd, it's outrageous, and the Dark Lord knew it and was determined to put you swine back in line. And now the Ministry wants us, the highest of wizardkind, to marry said swine? To spend the rest of our lives with absolute scum, to breed with such slime?" She shivered with disgust. "My sister may have no issue with that but I assure you, she is very much in the minority."
Hermione glared at her, shaking with rage. Even throughout the entire war, never had she been so insulted. "Very well then, Bellatrix Black. I'll just be going now. I'm sure the Ministry would love to get their hands on you. I'll even do you a favor and ask them to spare your life. You can return to Azkaban, they've saved your cell for you and the Dementors missed you terribly. It will be like coming home again, won't it?" She kept her voice calm and cold, trying to hold back a smirk as her eyes widened.
"No, please not that. You can't!" Bellatrix evidently had a hard time accepting that a Muggle-born had such power as to send her back to jail on a whim, but even she knew it was true. Hermione was perfectly serious this time; she had had enough of this terrible woman. Her change in demeanor was astonishing; she went from sneering and harsh to pleading and desperate almost at once. "Please, I can't go back there. I – I'll do anything, please don't make me go." The Gryffindor raised an eyebrow, careful to keep the rest of her expression blank.
"Stop insulting me and I won't order your arrest. Call me by my name, not "Mudblood". Do not presume to insult my family ever again. And of course, you've already promised not to break any more laws. At the very least, do that and I'm sure we'll get along just fine." The Dark witch glowered at her with utter loathing but wordlessly nodded.
"Very well, now that that's sorted out," Hermione paused and watched with a detached satisfaction as her nostrils flared once more with anger, but she did not interrupt again, the unseen threat of Azkaban now dangling heavily over her head. "How does this change anything? Why should I want to marry you?" Bellatrix shook her head impatiently.
"I was raised expecting to be forced to marry someone not of my choosing, which is precisely what happened. The last thing I want would be to go through all of that all over again, so this is the only way I can fight back. I don't know how else I can make you understand, girl. Draco, on the other hand, was brought up knowing that he could choose his bride. This would hurt him less, and hurt me far less. It shouldn't affect you much either way, really, aside from that heir business… Do you want to have a baby with Draco? If you do, by all means, leave me and my offer here and go see him. Do what the Ministry tells you like a good little girl." She made shooing gestures with her hands but Hermione didn't move.
It was the very last thing she wanted to do, but she moved her chair closer to the bed, looking right into those dark eyes. "I don't want to have a baby and you know it, especially not with Malfoy." The very thought of it disgusted her, lying in a bed next to him, sleeping with him and carrying his child… not a chance. She would not allow it. "If I married you instead… nobody would expect us to… you know…" Hermione blushed, fumbling with the words. She knew what she wanted to say but not how to say it.
Bellatrix smirked, enjoying her awkwardness. She reached out to tenderly stroke the younger witch's cheek with a long fingernail, laughing as Hermione jerked away. "No, nobody would know if we had sex or not. And we would not, I assure you, girl. Just in case your hopes were up."
Hermione blushed harder, if possible. This was an important turning point, but did she really feel the need to make it so bloody uncomfortable? "So, we'll be married in name only. We wouldn't have to live together or anything, right?"
"Of course. There will be none of that, and the Ministry can't get their wand in a twist over it either. Everybody will benefit from this, you'll see."
"But, how will I tell them that I'm changing their plan. They won't like that."
She rolled her eyes impatiently. "Merlin's beard, Mu- Hermione, they told me you were smart. Come up with something, anything at all. It doesn't matter; it still works with their plan. Just get over yourself and talk to them. Don't take no for an answer."
Hermione nodded, rising again to leave. She had spent more than enough time here listening to this maniac for one day, and her joints cried out in pain as she stretched them. She looked around the Hospital Wing, noting that there were no other patients here. There had been many witches and wizards wounded during the battle, but they had clearly been moved out when Bellatrix came in here. Was it for her safety or theirs?
Hermione made her way to the door again, stopping before she left. She expected to hear the older witch say something again, perhaps a word of encouragement or even gratitude. She did indeed shout to her, a harsh cry of "Get out!" Her new fiancée was as about as charming as a Blast-Ended Skrewt, but it was the only thing she had to defy the Ministry. Shaking her head, Hermione exited the room without comment.