being of short duration. Once Draco's purpose was served the divorce would be quick and uncompromising. It wasn't a real marriage, after all; merely a pretence to suit Draco's own ends. Although she was apprehensive about what his purpose was exactly, that wasn't the cause of the majority of her tension. No, she hated the fact that he had the power to force her to do as he wished, once again she was allowing herself to be used and manipulated to suit him. Just as she had eight years previously.

The maid had finished opening the curtains and was standing a respectful distance from her bed. Hermione smiled warmly, albeit shyly. Being waited on might come naturally to the upper echelons of wizarding society, but she still felt uncomfortable with subservience… even if the castle staff were getting a decent paid wage out of it.

"My name is Chloe. I am to be your personal maid. If you wish to have breakfast here in your suite…"

Her English was perfect, if a bit stilted. It had been Draco who had insisted that Cytheran schools teach all pupils English as a second language. Back then, he had been strong-willed enough to oppose the old-fashioned views of the Regency of Ruling Elders, who had felt that such a course was not worth the expense.

Hermione remembered scathingly how much she had admired him for his stance all those years ago. But at that time she was inclined to admire anything and everything that Draco did. As well as admiring Draco himself. Admired? She scoffed. Hermione had adored him, worshipped him…

"Thankyou, Chloe. But you mustn't bother. It's perfectly alright, I can –" she began, and then stopped speaking as the door to her bedroom was thrust open and Draco strode in. The maid took one look at him, looked at Hermione still lying in bed, dipped in a low curtsy and fled, round-eyed and pink-cheeked.

With her maid's sudden departure, Hermione was left alone to glare unwelcomingly at him. Too late, Hermione cursed herself for not bringing something suitable to sleep in, and pulled the bed sheets more firmly up under her chin.

It was unnerving; he standing there, already freshly showered and smartly dressed while she, having just woken up, was lying in bed in only her underwear still trying to recover all of her mental faculties. Of course, he probably wasn't kept up all night by any internal battle or over-active conscience. Indeed, Draco looked well-rested and considerable better than he had the day before. Hermione bemoaned the fact that she no doubt looked a mess; sleep-rumpled, bed-headed, puffy faced and no doubt with dark rings under her eyes.

She cursed his almost innate sophistication and style. Put Draco in any kind of clothes and in any kind of setting, no matter how humble, and he would draw people's attention even so. It wasn't just his unusual colouring, but also his tall and lean build. He might have worked on the Quidditch field to add a bit of bulk and muscle definition to his frame, but it was scheming devious Mother Nature who had given him his keen features and superbly male form. Damn Nature, she was the one responsible for the havoc that he created in Hermione's mind, and her body's instant reactions to his presence.

Without any preamble, or so much as a good morning, Draco informed Hermione, "We shall announce our engagement at noon today, in the castle square, along with the date of our wedding… The papers will be informed that so in love are we and so blissfully happy to have been reunited we could not bear the thought of a protracted engagement."

Of course, as much as he was physically attractive, Draco's personality was… repugnant. Hermione wasn't in the least impressed by the air of arrogant superiority that he wore like a cloak, quite the opposite.

"So you still intend to go ahead with this charade?" Hermione challenged him fiercely. "I should have thought that a night of sensible reflection would have shown you –"

"If you remember my cousin Luc, he has invited us to join him this evening for an informal celebration of our engagement." He ignored her speech completely. "I assume you have something suitable to wear? Business robes or something suitably formal?"

Merlin, he really was incredibly arrogant. She could never get a word in edgewise when he was trumpeting on but he just talked over her as if she was nothing. Well, come to think of it, that's exactly what she was in his eyes …

"I must say that I was impressed to learn what an excellent degree you graduated with. But then you always were almost unnaturally intelligent and obsessively committed at school. Not to mention the favourite pet of every teacher. I, for one, find it strange how you can whole-heartedly support one type of authority yet consistently place yourself in opposition to another. You and your causes… but then I remember that you always were an intensely passionate crusader."

Hermione refused to ignore the double meaning behind that final comment.

"No, Draco, I was a vulnerable young girl. Fortunately, I had the good sense to realise how empty and… valueless the relationship we had was." She corrected him bitterly.

She watched his mouth thin. "Be careful," Draco warned her silkily, "otherwise I might be tempted to show you that there could be certain aspects of a relationship between us that you –"

"No. I might have once been foolish enough… but I was very quickly cured of that error in judgement."

"By the countless other men with whom you were involved during your–?"

"How dare you speak so sanctimoniously about my sexual history? The Daily Prophet and every witch's magazine carry stories about your regularly rotating pieces of arm candy. Models, singers, actresses…"

"The press simply chooses to deliberately misconstrue matters, you of all people should realise that. Besides, none of that is –"

"Any of my business?" Hermione decided she quite liked being the one to interrupt, rather than it being the other way around. "Of course it isn't. And neither is my relationship history any business of yours!"

Not for anything would she have him know of her insistence on reading every word printed describing the beauty of his companions and his attentiveness towards them. Anyway, it had only been to reinforce how much better off she was without him!

"Your past may not be my business, but so far as your relationship present and future… well, you are to be my wife. As your soon-to-be-husband, I warn you now that –"

"You warn me! You warn me! It's not like I actually chose to be your wife! I showed up here to kindly inform you of some news that just might affect you and you turn around and inform me of this quite unforeseen, imminent change in my marital status. But get this straight, Draco, there is now way –"

Halfway through vigorously gesturing, Hermione realised that the sheet was sliding down to uncover her body. Automatically she made to snatch it up and protect herself modestly, but Draco beat her to it. His long fingers capturing the edge of the sheet and holding it firmly in his powerful-looking fist.

"I really do think it's past time for you to get up, Hermione."

With that the cover was pulled out of her hands to lie in a heap on the end of the bed. Draco did not lower his piercing grey gaze from her eyes but Hermione could feel a blush burning on her cheeks. She resisted the urge to cover herself with her hands, after all she still had on her bra and knickers.

It was definitely too late to cover herself now. She got off the bed to stand to stand on the other side of the mattress, feeling uncomfortable lying prostrate with him towering over her. Hermione was not entirely sure why, but his steadfast refusal to break eye contact needled her greatly. He kept his eyes fixed unwaveringly on her own, as if her body was of so little interest to him that it didn't even merit a look. She knew Draco hadn't exactly lived the life of a monk and the women he had previously been involved with were breathtakingly beautiful with bodies to match (and even sometimes, which managed to eclipse) but she wasn't so ugly, was she? Granted, her stomach wasn't entirely flat and she had a little extra flesh which steadfastly refused to budge from her hips and thighs, but that was usually the case on a real, healthy figure.

"You don't sun bathe topless…"

Now why on earth would he mention that now? And how had he even noticed when, so far as she was aware, he hadn't even glanced at her breasts?

"I'm surprised to see that base voyeuristic instinct surface in you, Draco. You've always held yourself on a higher and more rarified plane that everyone else, haven't you, Your Supremely Pure of Blood But Not of Mind Highness?"

Hermione was satisfied that her words had had an affect on him as she watched his eyes narrow and saw the flicker of anger in them. Dropping his gaze to her body he looked her up and down with an insolent thoroughness that only added to the colour on her cheeks before slowly raising his eyes to hers once more.

"You were flaunting yourself to me."

Hermione interrupted him angrily. "Flaunt myself? You've got to be joking."

He frowned, sliding back his jacket cuff to glance at the heavy silver watch on his wrist. Hermione found it strange that he should be wearing a Muggle time-piece.

"You have two hours to have breakfast and get yourself dressed and ready. We shall meet in the Indigo Salon at eleven," he informed her coolly. "My press secretary has prepared the announcement of our engagement. Now, I have an important floo call to make."

With that he turned abruptly and moved towards the door. She was thrown by his sudden change in demeanour, so that it took her a moment more than necessary to realise that he had left the room. Still pink-cheeked, she slowly padded over to close the door to her room he had left open in his haste, before making her way to her bathroom to get ready for the day.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

In the dressing room of her suite, Hermione stood and studied her reflection carefully in the floor-to-ceiling mirror. Finally satisfied, she released a small sigh.

Her classically tailored robes were perfect for the occasion, as Draco had suggested, perhaps erring slightly on the side of formality.

A broad grin curved her lips.

Which was why she had left the suit hanging in the closet. Which was why she was now dressed in a pair of slim-fitting black jeans and a shirt unbuttoned to bare her cleavage and short enough to show the smallest fraction of creamy skin just above the waist of her jeans.

Heavy eye-liner and mascara, combined with a deep red for her lips, large dangly earrings and enough hairspray rival a Sticking Charm had transformed her from her normal unpretentious, simple style into a very passable replica of a vamp; what's more she looked decidedly Muggle.

It was the kind of sultry look she never would have normally assumed, and Draco was bound to loathe it, Hermione decided gleefully.

Five minutes til eleven. She had timed it perfectly.

Grinning again, she opened the door to her suite and stepped into the corridor.

Hermione was relishing the impact her appearance was likely to have on Draco. Her behaviour might be childish, but it was her only way of demonstrating how she felt about what he was doing – the only way she had of rebelling against him without hurting herself or Ron short of placing a permanent wrinkle charm on all his clothes or hexing his hair off. Well, she'd store those two away for use another time. He was so vain. Come to think of it, it might be fun to stage an updated version of that old fairy tale, The Emporer's New Clothes, sometime without anyone's knowledge.

She'd almost reached the bottom of the flight of stairs that swept down to the impressive reception hall when the doors to the Salon were thrust open and Draco strode out, coming to an abrupt halt as he saw her.

For a moment neither of them moved. Hermione could see the fury in Draco's eyes, and a premature glimmer of triumph shot through her.

Seeing the angry emotions roll over his face was like watching a storm approach, Hermione acknowledged. She felt that same tense threat of danger; it was not a question of if but when it all broke through. A fine shiver rolled over her skin, the fine hairs lifting at the back of her neck and along her arms.

"Is this some kind of a joke?"

The tone of his question was so heavy that it immediately increased the tension by several degrees.

"Excuse me?" Hermione feigned innocent ignorance, which was ruined by the preparedness to do battle shining in her eyes.

"You know perfectly well what I mean," Draco snapped grimly. "Your clothes –"

Hermione stopped him evenly. "These are my clothes, Draco," she swept her hand in front of herself. "And this is me. I don't intend to change either. Take me or leave me. It was your choice to blackmail me into this abhorrent engagement and marriage, but how I think, behave and dress is my choice!"

She watched his mouth compress into a line so thin his lips appeared to be a single white stripe.

"You forget, I was there for the Yule Ball, I have seen the photographs of you from formal functions given by one of your endless causes or by the Ministry. There are professional photographs accompanying your articles. And I know perfectly well that this is not how you normally appear. Your hair…"

Hermione frowned. He knew of her work? Had seen it? Some unwanted and dangerous emotion was beginning to flower into painful life inside of her. Fiercely she uprooted it.

"Not to your liking?" She sent him a challenging look. "It's the latest thing, I assure you."

"It looks as if you got into a fight with a pot of glue and came out second-best." Draco told her uncompromisingly. "And you certainly can't appear in front in public like that. The people would be insulted… offended…"

"Draco… What are you doing? Draco, let go of me!" Hermione demanded when he suddenly strode forward and took hold of her arm and, for the second time in as many days, dragged her away.

"If you don't stop struggling I shall stun you and carry you bodily, Hermione," her warned her, as he almost marched her up the stairs.

Hermione stiffened, "You –"

You wouldn't dare, she had been about to say, but the look he was giving her made her swallow the challenge unspoken.

By the time they reached her suites, Hermione was flushed and out of breath. She noted with a touch of resentment that Draco was still calm and collected. Thrusting open the door, he pushed her inside and, gripping her arm, slammed and locked the door behind him.

"You are pushing my limits, Hermione," he told her, still tight-lipped.

"That's your problem. I don't –"

Hermione was suddenly yanked almost off her feet and into his arms. His mouth covered hers, smothering her furious tirade. He kissed her with an almost savage ferocity.

As in any form of confrontation Hermione's instincts kicked in. She could feel her heart racing, thudding as adrenaline pumped through her entire body. She was definitely in fight mode. This was like no other kiss she had ever experienced, Hermione realised as they fought one another for control. Mutual resentment fuelled a passion that burned her, as much as the feel of Draco's mouth. A feeling she told herself was righteous willpower shot through her. A wild clamouring of sensation and urgency that was dangerously close to desire.

…but she did not desire Draco and of course he did not desire her.

Even so, she could feel the sudden hardening of his body as he held her against him. His body had hardened, but hers now melted and moved closer to him. Sensing the change in her posture, Draco slid one of his hands up under her shirt, pressing it flat against her spine, whilst the other languidly traced a line back and forth along her side, from the flesh of her waist to her stomach, just above the band of her jeans. The pressure of his lips on hers eased and he took her bottom lip between his, sucking lightly on it. The anger that had fuelled her reaction to his punishing kiss was transmuting into a very different kind of passion. With the anger gone, the red haze fogging her mind vanished also.

Frantically, she pulled away from him. "Have you any idea how much a despise you?" she demanded furiously.

"Oh, so that's how you Muggles show hatred, is it now? Thank goodness Potter and Weasley have wizarding blood. Think how awkward it would have been at school if they went around kissing me all the time." Draco taunted her, but she could she that his own chest was rising and falling just that little bit faster than it should have.

Not that she felt any better to realise that he had been aroused by her. What she actually felt was… disgust. Yes, disgust… and shock! Shock that she could have been weak enough to allow herself to respond to him as she did.

"You have half an hour," he informed her sharply. "Either you go and do something about your appearance or I shall do it for you. And don't make the mistake of thinking I don't mean it, Hermione. Even if I have to Stupefy you I shall."

Hermione pulled away from him. His lips were smudged bright red from her lipstick; he looked ridiculous glowering down on her with his mouth stained like that. Saying nothing, she turned her back on him and made her way into the bathroom.

It would serve him right if he went all through the formal public announcement looking like a clown.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

In the bathroom Hermione stripped off her clothes and quickly cleansed off her makeup. Reapplying a small amount of eye shadow and mascara and a discreet colour of lipstick, she ignored her trembling hands. She didn't even try to get a brush through her hair until she had spelled it clean of product. Thankfully, she now also knew some spells to get it into a modicum of manageability. Once she had her hair settled back into its normal, less bushy than nature intended, curls she glanced at her watch…

Ten minutes… it would take her ten minutes to get dressed in her robes, and then…

Her robes…

Hermione froze as she realised that her robes were still in the wardrobe. She nervously chewed on the inside of her lip. Finally, grabbing a towel, she wrapped it round herself and unlocked the bathroom door, poking her head through the gap.

Draco was leaning against the door to the suit, arms folded across his chest, mouth now free of any red smudges.

"Ready?" he demanded.

Hermione shook her head. "I need my robe."

"Where is it?"

"In the wardrobe," she replied, watching surprised as he strode over to the wardrobe, instead of telling her to come out and get it herself.

"This is it?"

Silently Hermione nodded her head, tensing slightly as he brought it to her.

"Five minutes," Draco warned her as she took it from him.

As she slipped into her robes, her hands were trembling so much that she wasted considerable time trying to fasten the tiny hook and eye catches. Why on earth was she feeling so quivery and nervous?

"Time's up."

Hermione shifted uneasily as Draco yanked open the bathroom door and surveyed her in silence.

"I hadn't expected on staying, so it's either this or the jeans," Hermione warned him as she stepped past.

"Just a minute…"

She watched him warily; an icy surge of emotion swept over her as he removed a leather jewellery box from his pocket.

You're going to need this," he told her unemotionally.

Hermione knew what the box would reveal. She could still remember the first time Draco had shown her the traditional Malfoy betrothal ring.

Then she had admired in wide eyed awe as she stared at the huge emerald surrounded by glittering diamonds and yellow sapphires, thinking she had never seen such a beautiful and awe-inspiring ring. Then, though, she had been barely out of her teens, imagining how it must feel to have a man proclaiming to the world his love and commitment, symbolised by that ring.

Now, she saw the ring in a very different light. The coldness of the marriage Draco was forcing on her matched the icy brilliance of the diamonds, the pale imitation of love and affection echoed in the muted, almost colourless quality of the sapphires. Just as the ring's ostentatious weight matched the burden she was under.

"You're trembling."

The mocking words needled her thourougly.

"With indignation. What you're doing is despicable!"

"No. I'm simply doing what I must, for the benefit of my country and its people," Draco told her resignedly. "But then you were also too… emotional to recognise that sometimes one has to put duty above one's desires."

He took her hand, while Hermione was still frowning over the meaning behind his words. Holding her hand firmly in his own, Draco slipped the large ring onto her third finger of her left hand. Disturbingly, the ring fit her perfectly. Hermione looked up at Draco, there was a moment when they just stood there, him still holding her hand, her brown eyes glinting suspiciously. She opened her mouth to say something–

"It's twelve o'clock," he announced suddenly.

Draco tucked her arm through his, making Hermione more conscious of the heavy ring shining in the afternoon sun. Holding her in a manner that was both regal and proprietorial he led her out of her room and down the stairs. He stopped, seeming to steel himself momentarily before guiding her out into the combined brilliance of sunshine and the flash of cameras that awaited them.