A/N: Love to reviewers

And my darling Countess Black

"A wizard's exclusive right to his wife is held sacred, and all who interfere are thieves as well as abductors, seducers, or whatever the circumstances dictate they be called."

Atilius Goyle, 'On the thoery of Marital Law' 1745

1 July, 1998

Draco woke to feel her pressed against the wall again, shaking and sniffling, and he huffed a little. After everything that had happened, he didn't (precisely) expect her to be deeply in love with him (yet), but would it be too much for her to wake him up clinging to him, and put her arms about his neck for comfort?"

He reached over and rolled her on her back, and then on her other side, pressing the back of her head lightly. "Darling, shhhhh. What do you do when you've had a bad dream?"

Hermione didn't answer, but he didn't expect her to. She'd gone stiff, and her crying had tapered off to rapid blinks and head shakes. Draco huffed and grasped her chin. "Hermione, love?"

"I'm fine."

Hermione closed her eyes and breathed deeply, finding the place in herself that Malfoy couldn't touch. She could hear him murmuring urgently in her ears and disregarded it.

The elf appeared with a cup of tea. Draco gently sat up and took the cup. "Took you long enough." Hermione was still cradled against his chest, and he held out the cup. She took it in her hand and tried to give it back to the elf. "I don't need any, thank you."

"Of course you do. It'll help you feel sleepy again."

"I'd rather sit up, if you wouldn't mind."

"I do mind, pet. You need your sleep."

Hermione silently drained the cup without another word and handed it back to the elf. The tisane made her feel dizzy and slightly sick to her stomach, but it did make her sleepy, and the oil of violets was supposed to lift her spirits.

"Good girl.' Draco eased them down on the bed started to rub her back. 'What made you cry, Hermione?"

Hermione looked away. "Mother Malfoy said a lady never bothers her husband with minor emotional upset."

He huffed. "Precious, it would never bother me to hear what's upsetting you." He held her tighter, wondering if perhaps he should take her for a walk tomorrow evening. The garden was incredibly lovely at night, especially at this time of year.

Hermione nodded silently and shut her eyes. "I appreciate that."

Draco sighed. "I hate how awfully unhappy you are. If there was something I could do to make you happy, you'd ask me, wouldn't you?"

She didn't open her eyes, and after a moment, her breathing had evened. Draco listened her to slow, soft breath, and wondered how he could feel so good when Hermione was so deeply mired in her own misery.

One Week Earlier:

In the end, Hermione decided to predicate her escape on Occam's razor, which is to say, she simply waited for events to align themselves and then, very quietly, called Kreacher. He could easily slip the wards, and did, and then took her back to Grimmauld place without another word.

Draco was in the shower at the time. He heard the 'pop' and thought nothing of it until Tibby, whom Hermione had sent to get pumpkin juice, appeared and found nothing. Screaming, she went to Draco. He dressed, and swearing vilely, ran for Father.

Hermione had never be so relieved as she was when she saw Harry's startled face. "Hermione?"

Then she was in his arms. "Harry!"

"Hermione?"

"RON!" She flew to his side and flung both arms about his neck. "I've missed you so!"

Ensconced in Sirius' old place, Percy showed them his law texts. "Unfortunately, nothing Malfoy's been doing is illegal. But' he held up a hand 'perhaps we can argue that his interpretation of the law is unnecessary mental cruelty, especially his implied threat against Crookshanks. That might be enough for the magistrate to order a temporary separation."

"What about the veela issue?"

Percy took a deep breath. "That's harder. Our best bet might be for Hermione to leave the country and go somewhere with no extradition agreement. Barbados, perhaps. We can take our time building a case and even if we fail, you'll still be safe."

"When can I leave?"

Percy looked sad; he was sad, because he didn't want Hermione to be forced to live her life in exile. But he also didn't want Malfoy to crush her spirit, so they had no choice. "Tonight wouldn't be too soon."

Harry calmly sent Kreacher to find the stash of coins he kept for emergencies. "We'll need to go quickly, then." Ron swallowed hard and nodded. He longed to touch her, but for both their safety, he could only look. Perhaps someday...

Lucius put a hand on his son's shoulder. "Draco, shhh. We'll find her. She can't have gone far."

"I'll kill him! I swear I'll tear out his heart!"

"No need, love. The law is on your side."

Draco began pacing back and forth, violently cursing under his breath. Lucius sighed hugely and went to contact the aurors.

The trace the aurors had put on Hermione pinged at eight thirty, when she tried to use the international Floo, heavily cloaked, to travel to Barbados. The fireplace promptly spit her back again, and within a few moments the 'pop!' of Apparation was heard all round the building, a nondescript looking Floo point in a corner of Diagon Alley.

"Madam Malfoy, come out now. Your husband's reported you missing." The lead auror didn't mention that Malfoy had specifically reported her 'absconded', not precisely missing. Hermione cursed.

"You two go. They'll charge you with helping me, otherwise."

"Certainly shall." The door swung open and Draco walked in, taking in his wife and the two others. He crooked a finger at Hermione. "Come away, love. If you don't fight me, I shan't maul them." Behind him, Lucius Malfoy, also smirking, nodded silently, prepared to restrain his son if the need should arise.

"She's not going anywhere with you, you bastard."

"Not what the law says. In fact, I have the right to demand you be imprisoned for helping her, don't I? Six months in Azkaban, that. Auror, take Weasley first, if you would."

"No!"

"No? Hermione, darling, these awful men tried to abduct you. I should be remiss not to see them punished."

"You know damned well they didn't."

Draco smiled and stepped closer, prepared to maim one of them-or both-to retrieve his wife. "What do you want, Malfoy?"

"You, naturally, but I also want them punished for this." What he really wanted was to tear them to pieces with his bare hands, but Hermione might get upset if he did that.

"Is there somewhere we might talk this over?"

"Nothing to talk about."

"It was my fault, Malfoy. Don't blame them."

He smiled suddenly. It wasn't a nice smile. "Let's find a private place to talk, shall we?"

Ten minutes later, they'd been escorted to a private room in a nearby inn, a fleabag sort of place that bordered Knockturn Alley. The aurors guarding the door, Draco led them inside, putting Hermione against the wall so nothing could happen to her.

"Six months in Azkaban. I understand the screams are terrible." Draco beamed and took Hermione's hand in his, gently smoothing the flesh. She tried to pull away and he smiled harder.

"Your father'd know, Malfoy."

"Shut up." He turned snarling, and Hermione shook her head violently at Harry. "Stop it!"

Draco took a deep breath. "Hermione, darling, I'm very upset you ran off this way."

"I-I'm sure, but Malfoy, don't, don't take it out on them. They didn't-they didn't know I was going to-"

"Shhh. You're an appallingly bad liar, love. One of the things I treasure about you."

"If you really cared about her, Malfoy, you wouldn't make her miserable like this."

"Shut up, Weasley."

He turned to Hermione. "Precious, I could be persuaded to overlook this if you agreed to some things. Isn't that nice?"

"What do you want me to do?"

"Mmm, mmm, mmm, let's not jump the wand. Let's start with an apology, shall we?"

"I'm sorry."

"Oh dear, that won't do at all. How about 'I am so sorry, Draco, darling. I did a terrible thing and won't ever, ever do something this selfish and ungrateful again'."

Hermione, nails digging into her palms, said it through her teeth. Draco cupped her cheek. "Love, I'm not hearing the sincerity. Once more with feeling, now."

She finally did it to his satisfaction, and Draco smiled even more brightly. "There's my girl. Now, if you'll vow to do your utmost to be the perfect Pureblood wife, we'll forget this ever happened."

Hermione felt the floor slide from under her feet for a second and held the wall. "That's not possible, Malfoy. I'm a muggleborn, remember?"

He shook his head. "Of course I do, but Mother will teach you. And you'll put those lessons into practice, and never do something like this again. Agreed?"

"Don't, Hermione."

Ron was shaking with rage. "You bastard. You son of a bitch."

"Language, Weasley. Hermione? You've until I get to five to decide. One, one thousand, two, one thousand, three- a person with a criminal record can't get a job, you know- four, one thousand-"

He wasn't bluffing. She could feel it in her bones, and she wouldn't ruin their lives for her own sake. "And you won't do anything to them?"

"They walk free and you come home with me. That's all I want."

"And you won't do anything else you've threatened?"

"Correct. I shall count to five. One, two-"

Hermione shed the heavy cloak and stepped forward. "Fine."

"Weasley, be a dear and bind us."

"Get fucked."

'"Mmm, temper, temper. Auror Dawlish? I wish to press charges, after all."

"But you said-"

"Last chance, Weasley."

"Do it, Ron!"

"Hermione..."

"Please!"

Ron raised his wand. "Do you, Hermione Gr-Malfoy, vow to be the best possible wife you can to Draco Malfoy?"

"I do."

"Do you, Draco Malfoy, vow not to pursue charges in this matter?"

"I do."

"And be the husband Hermione deserves?"

Draco laughed. "Count on it, Weasley. I do."

He took Hermione's hand. "Now, darling, say goodbye to the gentlemen, we shan't see them again."

Hermione turned and whispered desperate goodbyes to her best friends. Draco was gently tugging her arm. Ron could say nothing-he only watched, shaking his head with despair, and when they were gone, he dropped his head into his hands and wept.

They went directly upstairs, past the deeply worried Narcissa and the smirking Lucius. He didn't say anything until they were in the bedroom. He called for Tibby, who hadn't stopped screaming and yowling since she'd realised young Madam somehow escaped her loving, watchful eyes.

"Tibby, stop that screeching and undress my wife. Don't bother with the nightdress, just slide her under."

"Malfoy, I-"

"Get into bed."

She wasn't sure what she'd expected. Violence, perhaps. Terrible rage, certainly. Malfoy seemed more peeved than anything, as though Hermione had spilt ink on his favourite robes or something like that.

He stripped to his pants and snuffed the light before he climbed under with her, spelling the bed curtains round them tightly, blocking everything from them, so they could concentrate solely on what was going on.

Draco was more than a little surprised at his own actions, actually. He'd fully expected to give his wife a long and satisfying bawling out that would leave her in floods of penitent tears and himself feeling vindicated and ready to forgive.

Instead, his main feeling was a sort of wonderful relief. Hermione was safe, she was undefiled, and they'd already fixed the house to see that this couldn't happen again. But she was strangely tense and didn't seem at all relieved to be home again.

Hermione was rigid. She would fight him, and once she couldn't fight him anymore, she'd do her best to make the experience as joyless as possible for him. He was looking at her, head tilted, and said finally 'What the hell was that?"

"I hate you."

"Not really an answer, but I suppose it's a start." He moved closer to her. Every time he got closer, she pulled back, until her back was to the wall. She wasn't panicked, which was wonderful-she felt safe enough to know she wouldn't be hurt.

He finally succeeded in getting her in his arms. She was very warm, he noticed, with a faint smell of sweat, which he attributed to fear. He dropped his face into her hair and smelt.

"Stop touching me."

"No."

Hermione tried to squirm free but he tightened his grip on her. "Go on, Hermione."

"Go on, what?"

"Have a fit. Kick and scream and cry all you like and I still shan't let go."

Hermione just looked at him. "What?"

"You heard me. I want you calm enough to be reasoned with, and right now you aren't. So have a crying jag or whatever and then let's talk this out."

His sheer tone was infuriating. He was talking to her like he would a fussy child. She swallowed and said, very coolly "Let's talk now, Malfoy."

"Draco, dear heart. Did you really think you'd get away with it?"

"Yes." Hermione was looking past him, at a point just over his shoulder. Draco took her face in his hand and held her chin so she had to look him in the eyes as they talked.

"Whatever gave you that impression?"

"I've dealt with worse odds."

He nodded slowly. "True. Still, you caused a good deal of trouble tonight. I expect an apology to Mother and Father tomorrow. And of course, you're on restriction again."

Hermione made herself look him in the eye, but she was busy finding a place in herself he couldn't touch. She drew ever deeper, until, like the princess in a fairy story, she was in a windowless tower, with the drawbridge drawn up and the door barred with iron.

Now that he'd reassured himself that Hermione was fine, Draco could enjoy what they were doing. He rubbed against her lightly, revelling in her warm, soft skin on his, and how little she was, and how nicely formed. She wasn't reacting to his attentions; quite the opposite, she was staring blankly into space.

"Stop it, Hermione."

"Stop what?"

Draco didn't know how to explain. Stop not fighting me? Stop not crying and shouting? He finally hit on 'You're ignoring me."

"Yes."

"Well, stop. It's rude. And unnecessary."

Hermione made herself bring her eyes to a point next to his neck. "What would you have me do?"

He shrugged. 'Love me. Tell me you're sorry. Cry on my shoulder and ask me to rock you. Anything but this, it's wretched.'

"Act like you notice my presence, for one. And tell me what you feel."

Hermione rolled on her side and nestled into her pillow, which smelt funny-the elves here used some perfumy herb to rinse everything, and it made the bed feel foreign.

"I don't feel anything at the moment."

"Bollocks. You have to be feeling something."

She said nothing. Draco spooned her and nuzzled at the back of her neck. "I think I'll take a bath with you tonight. Won't that feel nice?"

"I'd prefer to bathe alone."

"I'd prefer a wife who'll talk to me."

"Talk about what, Malfoy? You got what you wanted. Do you have to rub it in, too?"

Draco tugged her closer and said nothing for a moment. "If it's the only way for you to understand, I do."

"Understand what, Malfoy?"

His response was to kiss her neck again, very lightly. "That this is how it is now, and nothing anyone can do will change that. Make the best of it, hmmm?"

"Easy for you to say."

"Is it? I loved Parkinson, you know."

Hermione swallowed and looked away a moment. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"Don't be. You're the only woman I want, now." He said it as casually as he would express a preference for chocolate rather than vanilla ice cream. Hermione felt her eyes sting painfully.

"I don't-I don't feel that way."

"You will." He smoothed her hair and then lightly pressed his lips to her pulse.

1 July (again):

Narcissa smiled to see her daughter in law. "Darling, come in." She rose and gave the girl a hug, which Hermione returned almost apathetically. "Good morning, Mother."

Narcissa motioned her to sit down. "Draco seems to think we ought to increase your oil of violets, love. What do you think?"

Hermione was looking at her hands. "I'm sure I feel fine."

Narcissa took her hand gently. "We want very much for you to be happy."

"Thank you."

Narcissa, having given Hermione a book of social customs to look over, quietly slipped out, leaving her maid Lemmy to watch the girl. Her husband was in his study, reading over some accounts.

"Darling?"

"Hello, Narcissa." Lucius grinned and stood to embrace his wife. "You look radiant today."

"Thank you."

"How is our daughter in law?"

Narcissa shook her head. "Not well. Very quiet, very...' she motioned to try to indicate what she meant. She couldn't. Lucius nodded. "Draco is terribly concerned. And I rather think he's right to be."

"Is he too hard on her?"

Lucius frowned thoughtfully. "I don't know. Part of me thinks her behaviour indicates strong discipline is needed, but...she's...at any rate, I might have a solution."

"Oh?"

He told her, and she was pleased.