Chapter Nine

Dinner that evening was awkward, at best.

Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy were over for dinner again, for just another night. All talk seemed to revolve around the wedding, something both Draco and Hermione were attempting to forget.

"Draco darling, have you thought of your best man, yet?" Narcissa asked. It became very evident to Hermione from the conversation that Narcissa Malfoy's world revolved around her son.

"Blaise Zabini," Draco grunted. He took a second helping of the stuffed duck – to Hermione, it seemed like he was trying to drown his sorrows in whatever he could find, and that included food. He was also on his third glass of wine.

"And Hermione, have you thought of your maid of honor?"

No, Hermione hadn't thought of anything regarding the wedding, which she was determined would NOT happen.

"Ginny Weasley," she supplied the conversation.

Dora looked very pleased at the news, though Lucius' lip curled a bit. It was clear that his impression of the Weasleys had not changed much, despite Azkaban and the fall of Voldemort.

The wedding talk seemed not to end. It was like Narcissa was trying to plan out the entire thing right then and there.

Finally, Hermione had enough. She excused herself, having eaten about a quarter of what Draco had already consumed, feigning a headache and asking permission to retreat to her room.

Dora nodded, "Of course, my dear, of course."

But Hermione did not go back to her bedroom – instead, she made her way upstairs and into the library. If she had anything to say about it, this wedding would never take place.

Hermione Granger had been walked on and abused enough this summer. It was time to take charge.

On top of that, after what Alan had done to her, she was determined that no man should ever touch her in a romantic way ever again. Men were scum and she would never allow herself to be betrayed again. Ever.

No man would touch her – least of all Draco Malfoy.

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Hermione woke with a start at 5 o'clock the next morning, several books stacked beside her and one open on her chest.

Rising carefully, her head turned to face the glass doors of the balcony. The sun was rising, a blend of red, yellow and gold.

She stretched and got out of bed, then dressed to go out riding. She was sure no one would be awake at this hour.

She headed outside, a hazy figure in the light, early-morning fog. To her surprise, she found Draco had already saddled up Turkin. He was taking some jumps, testing out the Arabian's skill.

Hermione watched him discreetly, amazed at the grace in which he took the jumps, one after the other. There seemed to be no difference between horse and rider, each reading the other like a comfortable book.

What caught Hermione's eyes the most was the look of determination on Draco's face. His eyes, a gray the color of the sea before a storm, were completely focused. His thin lips made a determined line across his face.

After watching a few moments, Hermione tore her eyes away. She still had a hard time believing that the boy on the horse was actually Malfoy.

Heading into the stalls, Hermione was greeted by Zephyr. The mare was sleepy, but quite happy to exchange sleep for some fresh, sweet grass.

Finally spotting her, Malfoy made his leisurely way over.

"I never knew anyone woke up as early as I did on a regular basis," he commented.

"It's something kind of new for me," Hermione replied.

Draco slicked his hair back with one hand. "Ready to learn to jump?"

Jumping was not something Hermione was good at, it turned out. She and Zephyr both wanted to do two different things. After about an hour, Draco got fed up with her and did his own thing again, completely ignoring her.

Hermione felt ashamed with herself for not being able to grasp the concept, but more than that, she was angry with Malfoy for being a total jerk about it.

Leaving the ring, Hermione clicked her tongue and Zephyr shoved off in the direction of the woods.

The trail was a good one, but afterwards Hermione still hadn't felt any better about herself. She cast a spiteful glare in Malfoy's direction.

He was dismounting Turkin as Hermione approached him.

"You know, Malfoy," she began, feeling venomous, "I thought, since we called a truce and everything, it was quite rude of you to be so dismissive of me earlier. Considering I haven't been riding long, I think I'm doing just fine."

Malfoy didn't reply for a moment, his fingers working at loosening the girth and removing the saddle from the sweaty gelding. He knew she was pulling his strings. She wanted an apology: Draco Malfoy does not apologize.

"Did it ever cross your mind, Granger, that you're not the only one who's unhappy with this little arrangement? Did you really think I WANT to marry you? Trust me, it wasn't very high on my list of priorities."

The suddenness of his spiteful words hurt. Hermione frowned, a little sad.

After a moment, she decided that she was way above spiteful words. Without anything more than a look, she nudged Zephyr with her ankles and they walked back, horse and rider, to the stable.

Draco sighed to himself; He knew he should apologize. If he was engaged to the girl, whether or not they got out of the arrangement, he should at least be on civil terms with her. His life would be a living hell, otherwise.

"Granger!" he called. He saw her head turn, but she did not ask the horse to halt. She was ignoring him! The nerve...

Grumbling to himself, he gave Turkin one last pat on the nose before hopping over the paddock fence.

He found her giving Zephyr a bath. She hosed down the horse, then brushed her, removing enough horsehair to make a throw pillow.

"Granger," he began, "I didn't mean that to sound so harsh…"

"Well, Malfoy," she interrupted, putting a little extra elbow grease into brushing the horse than usual, "contrary to what YOU think, I believe it's YOU that has to realize I don't have the slightest inclination to marry you. I'm the one who's contacting people to find places to hide and looking up laws about Binding Ink in the library. All YOU have been doing is drinking eight glasses of wine with dinner."

Draco was stunned, but he recovered quickly. He felt a little guilty… just a little.

"Point taken, Granger." A Malfoy never admitted defeat – they just altered their plans a little. "What did you find?"

"Well, I'm waiting for a response from the source. I expect it sometime around mid-afternoon, perhaps." She was using her very best know-it-all voice, "And as for Binding Ink, there's no way to get around it, except for using the same ink to correct the document."

"My father will have thrown it away," Draco mumbled.

"And as for pureblood marriages," Hermione continued, not hearing him, "there is a practice that has gone out of date, but it still applicable. If we obtain the same inkwell of Binding Ink to correct the document, we must also get the persons involved with signing the document to put a drop of their blood on the parchment. After that, it must be burned."

"That's the only way out?"

"It appears so."

There was some silence in the stable as Hermione continued brushing the horse.

"Anyway, I'm going back up to the library after I shower, just to make sure there isn't an easier way."

"I'll help." Draco was surprised at his own forwardness.

Hermione frowned at him before she realized she shouldn't. She managed a weak smile. "Well, that will help. You can check along the far wall while I start at the front."

Draco noticed she was trying to keep him far away from herself, even when they were working together. Well that was okay: He didn't really want to spend quality time with her anyway.

Draco left for the house after a few minutes; Hermione seemed to be preoccupied with her own thoughts as was he.

Retreating to the Black Manor, he went to the room he'd been given for the week and took a hot shower in the adjoining bathroom. A shower would feel nice, especially after the morning's events.

He felt especially warm near his groin. Gazing down at his body in the shower, he recognized his erection. Cursing himself, he tried to ignore it.

It was persistent: He would have to do something about it. He realized he actually had to do some thinking as to when the last time he'd had any sort of sexual encounter was.

There it was! Daphne Greengrass, a Slytherin girl in his year. Her father was still in Azkaban. She'd given him a blowjob at the end of sixth year.

…Sixth year…

It was so long ago.

And sex…?

He'd had sex with Pansy Parkinson sometime in the middle of sixth year.

…Sixth year…

Again, it was so long ago.

He looked down again to face his restlessness. He wondered when he would next have sex.

"Well if I DO end up with Granger, I'm never going to be having sex again in my life," he muttered aloud.

The thought depressed him more than he cared to admit, so he convinced himself he hadn't even thought it.

With a sigh, he peered down at himself again.

"Persistent fucking thing," he grumbled, resigning himself to his hand.

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Author's Note: Thank you to Readerforlife, Alenor, RIPJameSiriusLupinTrueMarauder, AerintheWhiteKnight, brooklynsam3, and xxDrAcO'sBaby4EvErxx for your reviews! Reviewers rock!

brooklynsam3 - I'm actually in debates about keeping that part with the renfaire. I was thinking of keeping a lot of the same characters, but maybe not the faire setting. Not sure, yet. Keep reading to find out!!