A/N:

Thank you for all the wonderful reviews, they really made my day. I go back to college at the end of the month, so these fast updates won't be quite as speedy.

Love to my beta, Countess Black.

Pansy Parkinson shrieked as she read the letter Draco had sent. She flung it to the floor and fell on her bed, wailing. The elf, alerted as to some kind of problem, appeared and had a shoe thrown at him.

"HOW COULD HE?"

Her father, alerted by the elf, made his way up the stairs. "Princess?"

"HE'S LEFT ME FOR A MUDBLOOD! MY LIFE IS RUINED! RUINED!"

"Now, Pansy, he'd no choice in the matter. And perhaps it's just as well, really. He sent us a huge sum."

Pansy shrieked louder. "I DON'T CARE! I WANT DRACO, NOT MONEY!"

Castor gave up and went to find Pansy's mother. Shouldn't she be dealing with this sort of thing?

As soon as Pansy had shrieked herself out. she rose, put on a bit of rouge, and went to see for herself whether Draco Malfoy had really left her for mudblood Granger.

Draco had finally let Hermione write the letter.

"Are you sending for that cat?"

"I'd like to."

"Don't. It might not be for the best."

"Why not?"

Draco inhaled. "Because I'm frightened that I may not tolerate it's presence. Truly, it might be better."

Hermione nodded slowly. "All right."

"And don't bother with clothing, we're having you made a new wardrobe."

Hermione snorted. "I can't afford that."

"I can. Have them send books and whatever else, but I'll be looking everything over, so don't think they can hid a Portkey for you or something."

"Duly noted."

Hermione tried to make herself sound happy. She didn't want them to worry, and would they keep Crookshanks for a little while?

"Have you inquired after their health?"

"I saw them four hours ago and they were both fine."

"What about other relatives? Grandparents, aunts, uncles?"

"There aren't any."

Draco huffed. "Fine, then." He flung himself on the bed and put his hands behind his head. "And tell them the elves will bring our gifts for them."

"Gifts?"

"Yes, of course. We aren't savages, Granger, to steal you like a troll takes a sheep." They'd had the gifts all ready to send for days-casks of rare wine, silks, fine furs, vases, goblin made candlesticks. It was a slightly symbolic gesture, as Hermione-and Draco-would get everything back in time, but they felt it important all the same.

Hermione jotted a note about it and then started to seal the letter. "No, let me look at it."

Hermione shook her head. "Come on, Malfoy, that's too far."

"Granger."

"Malfoy, be fair."

"That's two. You shan't like it if I get to three." He leant over and plucked the letter from her hand. "Diction unnecessarily informal, spelling excellent, penmanship poor. I'll send it at once, and that's an extra three days."

"Extra three days?"

"You don't defy me. I'll ask Mother about having Madam Malkin come to measure you. And don't bite your nails, it's common."

Hermione made herself take a deep breath. "I'm not used to being checked on, Malfoy. I just don't understand the need for all these rules."

Draco cocked his head. He didn't know how to explain, exactly- every lady he knew took it for granted that the men in her life would do those things because they cared, to keep them safe.

And he would keep her safe. As his human mind recoiled in disgust, Draco reached up to touch her face, wanting to reassure himself that Granger was there, Granger was real.

She jerked back from him. "Don't."

"Why not?"

"I'd rather you didn't." Hermione's skin was prickling with alarm. She wished she weren't sitting down so she could move away from him. Malfoy, annoyed, put a hand on her arm.

"This stubbornness will cease." Draco reached out and gently took her had in his, smiling at how small it was, and how warm. "Why can't you just calm down, hmmm?"

"You honestly think, after everything that's happened, that I'm going to calmly accept this?"

"Why not? You-"

"Belong to you, like any other chattel." There was a sharp bitterness in her voice which Draco would have found a little funny if it hadn't been directed at him. He shook his head slowly.

"It isn't like that."

"Then what is it like?"

Draco was struggling for words to explain. "It's not like with a house elf, Granger. It's...special. You're safe here. I'll make you safe. And then..."

"Then?"

He threw his hands up. "What do you think?"

"I don't know!"

Draco was prepared to continue the discussion when an elf appeared, bowing. "Young Master is being needed in the Blue Salon."

"Very good, Minky. Have Tibby come and help Miss freshen up. Is it a Ministry employee?" Draco used to wand to spell the bed curtains together, to protect Hermione from view when she was in bed.

"No, young Master. Is being Miss Parkinson." Draco warded his room thoroughly and went, grimacing.

Pansy leapt upon him as soon as he entered. "TELL ME IT'S NOT TRUE!"

"Pansy, please don't screech. I've not gone deaf."

"IT'S TRUE!"

"Of course it's true." Draco sat down and folded his arms. "And God knows I'm sorry, Pansy. But the Ministry..." Draco was still human enough to remember the love he'd borne her, to want to spare her feelings.

"Damn them! Damn them!"

"I know. And like I said, I'm awfully sorry."

"And there's nothing you can do?"

He shook his head. "No. She and I, we're bound now." He was feeling himself getting slightly anxious. He wondered whether Granger was all right. What was she doing? Was she trying to get out? Parkinson was talking, but Draco found it hard to listen.

The elf was the twitchiest Hermione ever met. She found herself bowed into the bathroom as the elf, muttering aloud about what Hermione needed-' Is needing hairpins, comb, brush, needing some hair oil, needing maybe some powder' and sitting her down before the mirror. 'Tibby is asking Master giving Miss a vanity. Is needing one, now."

Hermione squirmed. She didn't want anything permanent, anything that would mean she was tied to this place, even a little. The elf did a bit of magic to smooth the tangles from the struggle with Malfoy on the bed, braided it neatly and tied it off with a bit of ribbon.

"Is being much better!" The elf looked so happy that Hermione had to smile. She let the elf scrub her face and even buff her nails, and then went back to the bedroom. She didn't want to be anywhere that reminded her of Malfoy, but when she tried to convince the elf to bring her some paper for a note to Ron, the elf refused.

"No. Tibby is not telling this time, but next time she tells the Master. Master is having to be stern with Miss, if she is trying to contact this Wheezy."

"I don't mean to do anything bad, Tibby."

"Oh! Oh! Tibby is boiling toes in oil! Bad elf! Terrible elf!"

Hermione shook her head frantically. "No need, Tibby! I shan't ask you again, I swear."

Having resolved that problem, the elf suggested that perhaps Miss would like something to look at. A magazine?

"That sounds wonderful, Tibby."

Draco finally disentangled himself from Parkinson. "You aren't even listening!"

"I'm a tad bit distracted, perhaps. Why don't you write me, that might be easier."

She rose, and he quickly pecked her cheek and turned. "The elf will see you out, Pansy." He was already going back up the stairs, back to Granger.

Before he went back to the rooms, he went to his desk and took out the letter Hermione had written to her parents. Made a few careful changes, stressing how happy Hermione was and what a wonderful match the two of them were. It would soothe the parents and make them more amenable, surely. Then he called for an elf to take it at once to Darlington.

Hermione huffed as she turned the page. She'd forgot how much she hated ladies' magazines. Wizarding or muggle, they gave her a bad taste in her mouth. This one, she noticed, was scrupulously absent of sex in all it's form. It was pages of saccharine poems, insipid fashion advice, and recipes.

"Having a good time?" Malfoy was standing in the doorway, watching her and smiling.

"Fine. How was Parkinson?"

Draco wouldn't say anything against her, at any rate. "Fine, as well. What are you reading?"

She held up the magazine and Draco raised an eyebrow. "I'm surprised."

"I didn't want to get the elf in trouble."

"Tibby, yes. She was my nanny, back in the day. Speaking of which, we'll need to get you a maid."

Hermione shook her head. "I can't."

"Pardon?"

"I'd never want to own another thinking being."

Draco rolled his eyes. "You're still on about that?"

"There's nothing to be 'on' about. It's immoral."

"Is it? Tibby?"

Tibby appeared. "Young Master?"

"Would you ever want to be freed?"

"NO! NO! PLEASE!" Tibby, bawling, dropped to her knees and held Draco's legs. Hermione was violently disturbed. "Make her stop it, Malfoy!"

"You make it stop, Granger. Admit you're wrong."

"But I-"

"Hear that, Tibby? She thinks house elves should be given clothes."

"NO NO NO NO NO! PLEASE MISS! TIBBY IS GOOD ELF!"

There was a sort of 'hmmhm' noise, and Narcissa Malfoy's immaculately coiffed head came through the fireplace. "Children, what on earth is that racket?"

"Tibby, Mother. I'm giving Hermione a lesson in managing the house elves."

"I see. Could you perhaps do it a touch more quietly? Father's a dreadful headache."

Draco turned to Hermione and smiled charmingly. "That depends on Hermione, Mother."

"Hermione, dear, perhaps you'd understand if we ended the lesson a little early?"

"Of course. Tibby, please stop. I don't want to give you clothes."

Tibby calmed at once. "Miss p-promises?"

"I promise."

Draco made an impatient gesture. "Enough. Go on, Tibby." She left and they were alone again.

"Was the necessary, Malfoy?"

" Not if you'd obeyed me the first time."

"You never quit, do you?"

Draco moved too quickly to be seen. One moment they were about arm's length apart and the next he was nearly nose to nose. "No' he said, and tried to kiss her.

For himself, Draco had no urge to kiss the mudblood. He found the idea revolting, but his instincts were demanding he master her, and that struck him as a very good way to do that. Not totally, she had to show willingness for that-not that he'd try until she were receptive, anyway-but he could, perhaps, soften her with affection. And she'd definitely want to cuddle after.

Hermione avoided him just in time. His lips caught the tip of her chin, and she gasped, trying to shove him back. 'Don't!"

Draco reached out to grab either side of Hermione's face and pressed his lips on hers. He yelped as her teeth caught his lip and nipped. Not erotically, either, a hard bite meant to make him stop.

"OWW! Bloody shite, Granger!"

"DON'T YOU EVER DO THAT AGAIN!"

Malfoy picked her up by the arms and set her on the bed, warding it and then tugging the curtains to block Hermione from view. "Don't you dare move."

He stormed out, smirking at some level at the absolute irony of warding the room to protect the woman who'd drawn blood on him.

"She did what?" Lucius Malfoy fell back on his bed, rubbing his temples. "What could you possibly have done to provoke that?"

"Me? She bit me, and now I'm the guilty party?"

"Draco." Lucius adored his only child, but he also knew Draco had his moments of -well, perhaps being a touch dramatic. Draco huffed and looked away. "I kissed her."

"And there's the problem. She probably thought you meant to..."

"Meant to...Circe! She knows I'd never do that."

"Does she? What evidence does she have?"

"Father?" Draco looked close to tears, and Lucius leant to take his son's hand. "Darling, I know you'd not, and Mother-we love you very much and raised you better than that, might I add-but Granger doesn't. She knows she's here with you and you've taken her from everything."

Draco dropped his head into his hands. "This is a fiasco."

"It could turn into one."

"Parkinson came and shrieked at me for a while, too. All women are insane."

"Yes, they are, and it's for you to harness that to your own ends. As bright as Granger is, Draco, she's still only a woman. She's needs careful managing."

Draco lightly rubbed his sore lip and nodded. "Would you mind?"

"Not at all. Hold still, now." Lucius healed the boy's lip with a quick spell. "All right, love, enough sulking. Go and see to Miss Granger."

"Do you expect we should start calling her 'Hermione' now, Father?"

"Quite. Go and see to Hermione, then. But Draco?"

"Do make sure she understands that next time this happens, I shall deal with her myself." Draco's instincts flared painfully and he gasped, eyes closing so he wouldn't be tempted to do his father violence.

"A-all right." Draco nearly ran out, disturbed by how strong his impulse was. He went down the hall as quickly as possible and burst into his-their-rooms and crossed to the bed.

"Listen, Malfoy-"

"No, you listen. This can't ever happen again. . Because if it does, Father'll want to punish you and then it would be your fault if I hurt him."

Hermione blinked. "It most certainly wouldn't.'Malfoy opened his mouth to contest that and she put up a hand. 'But right now, I think we ought to talk about the situation at hand."

Draco crawled into the bed. "Talk."

"I regret having bitten you, but you scared me, and your intentions were not at all clear."

"Doesn't give you an excuse to wound me." Draco crossed his arms and scowled, annoyed that she hadn't liked the kissing. "Hasn't anyone ever done that before?"

"Yes, of course. But it's disrespectful of you to think you can do that whenever you like."

"I can do that whenever I like."

Hermione was shaking her head. "If we're going to make this work, there needs to be compromise, Malfoy." She didn't think, in her heart of hearts, that she'd actually have to stay here, but she may as well make whatever time she did have to spend in Malfoy's presence minimally tolerable.

"Quite. You must learn to compromise your own wilful urges and let me direct you."

"That's not what I meant!"

"No? That's what will happen."

Hermione had never felt more trapped. She could almost feel the walls closing about her, and brought her knees to her chest half consciously, wanting to defend against the imposition into every part of her life.

Draco crawled a bit closer. "Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Shut yourself up like that."

"Like you care."

"No, I do." He did, too. It wasn't safe if they didn't trust one another. At a purely human level, because someday she'd get her wand back, and he'd rather not fear a bolt in the spine every time he turned his head.

At an animal level, Draco found himself craving emotional contact. Touching was fine, but they'd bond much faster if she opened up to him. He imagined long, lazy conversations, curled together in bed as though they were the only people on earth. And once the children came...

Hermione pulled herself tighter. She was going to find a way to escape if it killed her, which it probably would. Malfoy was talking and she made herself listen, determined to find the key.

"And I imagine you'd like a honeymoon trip?" Take her mind off, make her see the rewards for obedience.

"It doesn't matter."

Draco cocked his head. "You're just saying that because you're in a nasty mood."

"I sincerely don't care."

"Being as things as rather chaotic at the moment, I'd say we should wait, but after that, where would you want to go?"

She looked away. "Wherever is fine."

Two could play at this game. "Fine, then. Have you any robes fits to be seen in company?"

Hermione put her head up. "My new ones I wore today, plus two others."

"They'll do for the ceremony. And since we won't be receiving visitors for a while, I suppose it will be adequate until Madam Malkin comes."

"Ceremony?"

"Of course. We're getting married, remember?"

"Yes, but..."

"But what?" He wanted them to be married. It would help her adjust in some ways, knowing she couldn't leave. Well, she couldn't leave now, but being married would drive it home to her in a much more real way, the difference between a puddle and the ocean.

She didn't have an answer. "Won't it take time to plan a ceremony?" Ah ha! She'd bought herself a bit of time, surely. Except that Malfoy was shaking his head.

"No, not for the wedding. It's a family ceremony. We register our intent with the Ministry, Father says the words in the presence to witnesses, and that's it."

"That's not how Bill and Fleur Weasley did it."

Draco snorted. "Yes, well, what muggle lovers do is their own affaire. We're doing it traditionally."

"What about my parents?"

"What about them?"

"My mother's been waiting for my wedding for years."

"Tragic. We'll be sure and send them a picture."

At that moment, the elf brought the reply letter on a salver. "Good, Minky, hand it to me."

"But it's from my parents!"

"It certainly is. And if you manage to be nice to me until bedtime, I'll read it to you."

Her expression would have been comical if she hadn't started to sniffle a second later. "Something wrong, then?"

"You-you bas-ooh!"

"Me? Yes, indeed. Come here, Hermione. A secret wouldn't be very nice." Nearly gagging, Hermione made herself go to him. Draco decided to take things a step further this time. He simply tugged her into his lap, cupping her cheek to press her head down. "Isn't that much better?"

It wasn't. The tears finally came, and she felt no better afterwards, and he wouldn't let her up. "Shhhhh, there there, wiggling isn't nice at all."

What choice did she have? Oh, the things she would do to him once she was away from this hateful place! The first step was the letter, and so Hermione made herself not recoil from his hands on her face, or in her hair, and not scream, which was what she wanted most of all. At least, she consoled herself, he wasn't trying to touch her. But for how long?