A/N: Love to reviewers

And Countess Black

Thoreau said 'Of all the ways to lose someone, death is the kindest'.

Cyril and Anne Marie Granger were sipping tea in their kitchen when the Floo was suddenly alive with furious redheads, and the dark haired boy, too. All of them piled out as a single amoeba like mass of outrage.

At the same time, the first official owl from the Ministry came, followed shortly by a tired, pretty witch who was, metaphorically speaking, armed for bear. "I am so sorry to have to t-"

"Veela? What's that?" Cyril held up the letter, brow wrinkling in a most Hermione like fashion. Ron, who was, to put it very mildly, not taking this well, turned around and looked at the man who would never be his father in law.

"They've given Hermione to that bastard Malfoy!"

"WHAT?" Anne Marie had given her daughter her clear, unambiguous style of expressing herself, and it was showing.

"If you'd just let me-"

"MY DAUGHTER IS WITH A STRANGER?"

"Worse, she's with Malfoy!"

"Who's Malfoy? He's not the little snotty one?"

The tired, pretty witch sighed deeply. This was the worst part of her job. Now it was up to her to calmly explain to these people why they might-depending on the tender mercy of Draco Malfoy-never see their child again.

Hermione had quite recovered herself after her crying jag. She breathed deeply, let the elf bathe her face and murmur sympathetically, and then faced Malfoy, having climbed off his lap, though he permitted her only an arm's length away. "Malfoy?"

"Draco."

"Sorry?"

"Call me by my given name. Married people do that."

She ignored the last. "I understand this is hard for you as well-"

"No, you don't. You haven't the slightest notion of how this feels." Draco pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms about them.

"Everything's changed, Gr-Hermione. Everything. Food tastes different. Nothing smells like it should, and I have these compulsions that are starting to disrupt all sorts of things, not least of all constant proximity to yourself."

"I didn't realise."

He shrugged. "Why would you?"

"It's not...this won't be easy for anyone."

Draco shrugged again. "I'll survive. You, on the other hand, might want to adjust your attitude."

"For someone who was just saying how unhappy they-"

"I said different, not unhappy. I'm much happier now that you're here." There was no flattery in his tone, as though he considered the source of it all to be obvious enough not to need mention.

"Because we get along so nicely."

"We will. Once you stop trying to control everything, it'll go swimmingly."

"That easy?"

Draco nodded. "Take earlier, for instance. Why wouldn't you tell me what was the matter when I asked? There's no shame in a woman needing a good cry."

Hermione blinked. It was the last thing she'd ever expected to hear Malfoy say. He was cocking his head at her. "Generally, when a person speaks, we answer them."

"It wasn't about needing to cry, Malfoy. Your attitude isn't helping anything, either."

Draco snorted. "What attitude? That was the law, you saw it with your own eyes. But your co-operation would encourage me to be less strict in applying it."

Hermione smiled slightly. "You do know I spent a prolonged amount of time living in a tent?"

"Of course, I read the paper every day. I imagine you'd like to as well." Another privilege he could take away if she got cheeky with him. Hermione must have predicted his train of thought, because she smiled again.

"Not much was in that tent. Beds, really, that was the main thing."

"That sounds beastly." Draco frowned, wondering what fool had thought his Hermione fitted to a life like that- she was too fragile, and it had given her all sorts of problems when it came to feeling safe. Probably she'd been busy fending off Potter and the Weasel, and worried that every man was like those buffoons.

"My point, Malfoy, is that I can go quite a long time on very little."

Draco blinked. Twice. He'd not given that any thought at all-every woman he knew loved her small luxuries, and being stripped of them would be a dreadful punishment. Father, in fact, often reminded Draco that he had never found it necessary to restrict Mother from anything, because he'd chosen so well. "And,' he always added 'because your mother is quite the finest lady I know."

Clearly, this was not the case with Hermione. He crossed his arms and gave her a sharp look. "It's hardly the same."

"No? How is that?"

"Because...it isn't. It's grindylows and redcaps."

"No, it's not. There's only so much you can take from me without doing me harm."

"That's true.' Draco smiled and leant toward her, so far she fell back onto her elbows. 'But there's plenty I can do to other people, isn't there?"

"How do you mean?"

"Be a shame if all those inventions the Weasleys patented with the Ministry were declared potentially harmful and destroyed, hmmm? If that oaf Hagrid were found with some sort of banned substance in his hut? And your parents...my word, anything could happen, couldn't it?"

Hermione went white. She couldn't believe anyone would be so cruel. "You wouldn't...but..."

"I wouldn't? That's up to you."

"But they aren't even part of this."

"Unless your behaviour compels me to make it part, they aren't. The Malfoys have a lot of friends that haven't forgot what they owe us."

Hermione felt more tired than she ever had. It wasn't a bodily tiredness; it was the bright, cold temptation to despair, to give up and give in. "You really do hate me."

"Not at all. You're my very first concern." Draco reached out and gently moved a little hair out of her eyes, lingering to smooth her brow a bit. Hermione was staring blankly at the duvet.

"Then why are you destroying everything I've worked so hard for?"

Draco shook is head. "Because everything you've worked for is wrong."

The letter received by the Grangers and everyone else in Darlington was less than reassuring. Hermione didn't sound much like herself, for one; for another, she indicated it would likely be a long time before they saw one another, at least ten days.

" 'But I love you very much, and we'll get through this.'"

Ron was crying quietly. What if Malfoy hurt her? What if he made her...His sobs shook him silently, and flanked by Harry on one side and George on the other, they tried to find a way around this stupid, hateful law.

Hermione sank into silence, and Draco, taking it for thoughtfulness, let her. He laid down, pulling her alongside him, and relaxed in her presence. She was warm and terribly small, he thought, more than a head shorter.

"Hermione?"

She slowly looked at him. Her mind was going rapidly, at a rate most people would find nauseating. She had to find her way free of this. She would. If she could destroy a Horcrux, she could find her away round Draco Malfoy.

"Yes?"

Draco ran is palm lightly over her back. " It isn't as bad as all that, you know."

"No?"

He shook his head. "You're safe, at least."

"I was safe at home, too."

"Weren't. Suppose someone had tried to attack you?"

"They did. They died and I'm still alive."

Draco laughed suddenly. "Yes, but I lived with them a year.' He kept stroking her back. 'Is there anything you'll need in the next few days?"

"Need?"

"You aren't on any potions? Are there any foods that make you ill?"

"No. Nutrient potion, twice a week."

"Write down your dosages and we'll send to Hamm's for some. And clothing-you've indicated you have nothing decent?"

"My clothes are fine."

"Mother says Madam Malkin will be here in the morning, so you should have things fairly quickly."

"I'd think it would take a long time, getting someone that busy."

"Meant what I said. Malfoys have a lot of friends, and they understand the benefits of seeing we're happy."

Hermione was still trying to work out a decent plan in her mind. "Happy?"

"Of course. I want you to be happy, as well."

"You don't act it, Malfoy. Not at all."

He cocked his head sardonically. "We have different views of happiness, is all. Once you understand, you'll see why I'm right."

"Right to imprison me?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Dramatic, aren't we? No, of course not. As soon as I can trust you, you can do quite a lot of things."

What wasn't she getting? He didn't want to keep her in his rooms (not that he minded, but he did have things he had to do). He wanted her doing things and having fun-spending time with Mother and Father, enjoying herself with suitable female friends, shopping, whatever else women did.

But she had to understand that it all came down to him. He would give her the world-but she'd come and sleep in his bed at the end of the day. Draco sighed and gently wound a curl around his fingers.

"I have the idea we've very different idea of what constitutes appropriate things to do, Malfoy."

"Draco, remember? I shan't remind you again."

"May I look at that letter now?"

"Bedtime, and don't ask me again. Speaking of which, you sleep in here."

"Where do you sleep?"

"Here. Are you a very light sleeper? I am."

"We can't...I mean..."

"Can. And if I'd wanted to...you know...I'd have done by now." His brow creased; he'd have to ask Mother to have a discreet word with Hermione about her marital obligations to him.

"How generous of you."

"You do know what I mean?" Draco tightened his hold a little. He'd never actually seen a naked woman, but Zabini claimed to have done things with one of the Griffyndors (Brown? Bowen?) and had told him everything.

"I'm not eight, of course I know."

Draco was unconvinced. "Your mother's told you?"

"Yes, she did."

"They never tried anything, did they? Potter and Weasley?"

Hermione was torn. She didn't want to tell him. Her memories could sustain her, she knew, and even if they couldn't, it was damned well private information. She took a deep breath.

"Nothing happened that I didn't want to happen."

Draco's eyes hardened. "Which one was it?"

"Ron. We were engaged, remember?"

"And he decided to take advantage of you?" Draco gently rolled her off of him and rose, looking for his shoes. "Where are you going, M-Draco?"

"To kill Weasley. Shall I get anything while I'm out?"

"That isn't funny, Malfoy."

"Quite. Be good while I'm gone."

Hermione jumped off the bed. "Malfoy, don't!"

"He took advantage of you."

"No, he didn't. I asked him."

That, at least, stopped Draco. He turned around and slowly raised an eyebrow. "Say that again?"

"I asked him to. We thought we were going to die, and..." Hermione's face was going red. To save Ron, she had betrayed him. Draco wasn't moving. He finally swallowed.

"You didn't understand what you were asking him to do."

"I did."

"Then he seduced you. Did he give you wine to drink?"

"Malfoy, we were to be married. We love one another. That's all. We did it because we might never have had another chance." And they hadn't, but they'd never anticipated that they might live and still be separated. Of all the ways to lose someone, death is truly the kindest.

Draco had never been angrier. His hands were knotting into fists, and he imagined driving one into Weasley's smirking stupid face. When he saw how Hermione was watching him-guarded and wary as an animal- he forced himself to calm down.

"You're safe, Hermione. I shan't ever hurt you."

"I'm more worried about-"

"Don't say it. Never let me hear you say that name again."

"Malf-Draco, I-"

"It's for his safety as much as anything else, Granger. You don't understand how badly I want to hurt him right now."

Hermione nodded. He could smell her fear and it made him unhappy. He moved back to where she was, sat on the bed and tugged her into his lap. "Why are you afraid?"

She stiffened. "It wasn't myself I was worried for."

Draco put his arms around her and rocked for a moment. "Don't be afraid, Hermione. I shan't ever hurt you." Hermione closed her eyes and made her breathing still, willed her heart to stop pounding.

"But I'd like something from you. I suppose a letter for a letter would be a fair trade, hmmm?"

She went still. "Malfoy..."

"The law says if he approaches you, it's his fault if I maul him. Best make sure that never happens, wouldn't you say?'

Hermione met his eyes. "You are a terrible person."

"No, my pet, I simply go for what I want. And what I want is to make sure Weasley doesn't try to compromise you."

"What happened to trust, Malfoy?"

His face tightened. "I'll bring you my lap desk and you can begin."

It was dark. Harry was sleeping, and had been for an hour when he came to her. She'd whispered in his ear before supper, and he'd waited, feeling like he had coals in his stomach, and now here he was.

Hermione was lying on her side when she felt his big, rough hand on her shoulder. "Mione?"

She rolled on her back, sat up and hugged his neck. He hugged her back and gently eased her down onto her bed. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. You?"

"What if you get..."

"I've known a contraception spell since I was fifteen." She showed him how to swish and whispered the word to him. "Do you want to?"

He did it, and her belly glowed blue a moment and then faded. Harry groaned once and then rolled on his stomach, mumbling. Was he having a nightmare? No time to worry now, not with this last thing to do, this last experience to have before the end that might come.

They could not afford to undress, but they lowered and unbuttoned and moved, entwined, kissing, and then Ron whispered "I'm ready."

Hermione spread her legs and guided him. It hurt-hurt a lot-but she was glad, glad she could give him this, this drop of her blood. After the first pain had faded, she felt a sort of exultation in it; it had not killed her, they were seventeen and prepared to die for their friend, sleeping a metre away, and the pain had made her feel alive.

They slept in her bed until dawn, when Hermione rose and went to work in silence, and woke Ron before Harry, and said no more of it.

Ron read the letter she'd written as her parents had read theirs, with incredulity. "She says we can't ever see one another again."

Percy Weasley, who'd been silent thus far, spoke up. "She's right, Ron. He'll kill you, at least right now. Later he might mellow somewhat."

"What has to happen before then?"

"They have to..."

Ron started to cry again, but this time it was anger.

After she'd written the letter, Draco decided to reward her. He kissed her cheek, praised her verbally (Mother always said that verbal praise was the cornerstone of maintaining discipline) and then offered to read the letter to her right then.

Hermione, emotionally spent, nodded her agreement and sat, hands in lap, and listened.

"Hermione,

There's a lady from the Ministry here explaining everything. Thank you for letting us know. We love you and will do whatever we can. Please come and see us whenever you can. We'll keep the cat for you-you know how he and Dad get along.

Just keep up informed, all right? And make sure you keep up with your flossing,

Love,

Mum

Draco sat the letter aside, having left out some bits and bobs about various stupid matters Hermione wasn't to waste time worrying about. She was looking thoughtful, still, but not sad. He stroked her cheek lightly and then rose. "Will you be all right here for a few moments? I should like to speak to Father."

"I'll be fine." He called Tibby to stay with her, and then went to the study, where Father was looking absolutely smug about something. " Draco, you are to be congratulated."

"Oh? Did the Harpies win the game at Sheffield, Father?"

"No, and never shall, you insolent brat of a child' Lucius said, giving his son a fond look. 'Grandfather is positively spinning in his tomb. Supporting the Harpies..."

Draco grinned at Father's playful teasing and said "What, then?"

"Before sundown tomorrow, you will be a married man."

Draco beamed. "Father!"

"Go and tell Mother, love. She'll want to know." Draco did just that, and the process that began with the tired, pretty witch ruining Hermione's life came that much closer to bearing fruit.