Hermione knew a thing or two about the High Reeve, and none of those things were any good. She heard he was Voldemort's most trusted Death Eater, that he was ruthless and merciless, ready to kill everyone and anyone who dares to stand in his way. She heard he had no morals, that he thrived amidst this war where monsters alike him could show their true faces without any retribution, and that everybody, even Death Eaters themselves feared him tremendously.
The difference between the prideful and spoiled pureblood boy he used to be and the coldblooded war criminal and genocidal maniac he was now was stark and gruesome, and Hermione wasn't sure exactly when one became the other – she knew it started sometime after the Battle of Hogwarts, sometime after both of his parents were killed (no one was sure how) and the more time went on, the more crimes seemed to be committed not by Voldemort himself, but by his right hand High Reeve.
He wants to have you as his wife.
Hermione wasn't sure what that could mean for her. Why would a person like that want her as his wife? Certainly, the reason cannot be anything good or rational. He must want her just to humiliate her, insult her, maybe even physically hurt her – all because he could and would have the right once she became his wife. He probably also wished to use her as his personal slave – in more ways than one. Why else would he ask for such an absurd thing?
Hermione clutched the warm mug of tea in her arms while sitting in Snape's office and trying to wrap her head around the news. Snape stood by his desk and Moody sat in front of her, both of them waiting for what she had to say. She was so shocked that she didn't speak up until they were in the dungeons.
"I didn't know he was on our side," she spoke quietly after almost an hour of silence.
Snape and Moody exchanged a look. "Not quite," Snape answered at the same time as Moody said, "It's complicated."
"He is on our side," Snape explained. "But he wants to be sure we won't turn our backs on him in case we win. And he's hard to control. He was ready to give us in, so we've been trying to negotiate for weeks."
Hermione looked at them, trying to understand. "And that's what you've negotiated? To give me away?"
"That's what he wants. And we're not giving you away, Granger. It's more complicated than that," Moody interjected.
"Why does he want me anyway? Surely not because he actually wishes to wed me, there has to be something else. His pureblood prejudice would never let him marry a mu—"
"From what I gathered, he's willing to use you as leverage to keep the Order intact," Snape said, and when he saw Hermione frown, he added, "Kingsley Shacklebolt promised to get him acquitted of all crimes if we do win the war. But he doesn't trust Shacklebolt to keep his word, so he wants to have something against us."
"And that something is… me," Hermione made sure she understood that right. Moody nodded. "But why marriage? Why won't he just… take me then? As a war prisoner or something like that?"
"I believe he will ask you to give an Unbreakable Vow," Moody said. "He wants to insure we won't set him up."
"But if I won't do it, he threatens to set us up?" Both of them nodded. "And what if he does… something bad…? I mean, to me?" What if he kills me?
"He made an Unbreakable Vow to me, promising that no harm will come to you on his watch as long as we do our part and insure all his crimes are forgiven once the war is over," Snape rushed to assure her.
"Will you do that?" Hermione asked quietly.
"That's the deal, Granger. He marries you and makes sure he doesn't get screwed over either way, and you become our informant, taking Parkinson's place," Moody said.
Hermione didn't know how much she could trust that, but she also knew she had little to no choice. She really, really, really did not want to do this. She wanted her ex-professors to see how ridiculous their plan is and how many holes it has. Were they really that desperate to give away her, the Brightest Witch of Her Age, to a homicidal maniac? Were their affairs so poor they needed to come to this? If so, she will never be free of him, even if the Order wins the war; he will always be there right next to her like a looming shadow threatening to destroy her.
She was quiet for a long moment once more, staring at the tea in her mug, the milk swirling in it. She felt sick just by exercising that idea, and she knew there was no choice left for her.
"He's a monster," she said finally. "He has no mercy, he kills people for You-Know-Who, and all he does stems from evil…"
No one answered for a second, and Hermione lifted her head to see Moody's magical eye spin around in circles.
"As you know, we haven't had any important victories since the Battle of Hogwarts," Snape said. "Without his help, without his ability to destroy You-Know-Who from the inside out, all our efforts will be for nothing."
Hermione understood that much.
"A monster that is You-Know-Who can only be destroyed only by a monster worse than him," Moody added.
Hermione sighed, "Harry won't like this." Again, the two wizards exchanged a meaningful look. An awful awareness settled upon her shoulders. "But of course, he knows…" she muttered.
Snape nodded, "He agreed for this to be the best-case scenario."
Hermione closed her eyes in defeat.
She found Harry in the infirmary, playing chess with Pansy; he was White, and she was Black. She had grabbed Crookshanks whom she found near the Transfiguration Courtyard where he usually hunted for mice on her way there. When she entered the infirmary with her orange pet in her hands, Pansy and Harry stopped playing. Harry looked up at her as a guilt-ridden dog, and Pansy's eyes were full of a sort of resigned pity.
"So, they told you," Pansy spoke up.
Hermione tried not to grit her teeth. "Yes." She turned to Harry. "How long have you known?"
Harry's eyes widened in surprise, but still, he answered, "I knew that his plans had something to do with you, but I had no idea about the whole marriage deal. Moody told me only this morning, after Pansy…"
Hermione sighed. She wished Harry had told her at least something beforehand so she wouldn't be this caught off guard; but, after thinking about it some more, she realized this wouldn't have changed anything.
"Are you very mad?" Harry asked timidly.
Hermione took a deep breath, sitting down at the edge of Pansy's bed with Crookshanks meowing in her lap. "I'm not," she said finally. "It could've been worse, I guess." She could hear in her own voice how defeated she sounded.
Harry and Pansy exchanged a look, reminding her of Snape and Moody.
"What did you tell them?" Harry asked.
"I told them I'd think about it."
A beat. Another beat.
„You don't have to agree to this, you know," Pansy intervened. "You can just… ignore it all."
Hermione stared at her hands. "I wish I could. But he doesn't seem like the person I wish to mess with…" Then she looked back up at Pansy. "What would you do if they asked you to marry him?"
Pansy's eyebrows shot so high they almost reached the ceiling, and her eyes narrowed. "I wouldn't do it, no matter what they'd promise me," she said quietly.
"You used to be… really good friends, from what I remember," Hermione observed.
Pansy scoffed, "That was a looong time ago. We were in school, for Merlin's sake." After that, she turned her head to the side, looking somewhere else, her voice barely a murmur. "He's different now. Worse. I don't even recognize him anymore."
Neither will I, Hermione wanted to say.
"But, Pans, he saved you," Harry countered softly.
Pansy gave him a look. "Yeah, but it was all to get to her," she gestured to Hermione.
Hermione swallowed thickly, caressing Crookshanks' fur with shaky hands. "Why do you think he wants… me?" she asked.
Pansy rolled her eyes, not in annoyance, but to hide her uneasiness. "Seven hells if I know. Maybe he has a fetish for mud—" This time it was Harry's turn to give Pansy a pointed look, and she immediately switched, "—muggle-borns he used to bully."
That would make sense, Hermione thought. And yet it didn't. This couldn't be just a fetish. It couldn't be just to humiliate her. She terribly wished for it to be something, anything else.
Hermione wanted to ask Pansy if he had it in him to kill her, but she refrained.
She stood up, holding Crookshanks closely to her chest, wished Pansy a good night, looked at Harry, and left.
The next week things went as usual, at least that's what it seemed at first sight. Hermione had breakfast with Harry in the Great Hall, tended to magical and medicinal plants at the greenhouses with Neville, made extra batches of potions with Snape, and helped Cho out at the infirmary when that help was needed. She wanted to ignore the looks she got even from those who were supposed to be oblivious to the marriage proposal she got, but everyone in the castle seemed to know. She was an open book full of secrets for everyone to read.
As days went, she felt as if Moody's magical eye followed her every move, and she knew the sand in the hourglass was running low. She sensed Snape's eyes on her whenever they were in the dungeons, and she noticed how Pansy and even Harry with McGonagall would stare at her when they thought she wasn't looking.
It got exhausting pretty soon. Hermione realized she was cornered and that there was no way for her to get out of this situation – she had to make a choice. To be selfish or to sacrifice herself.
She made a pros and cons list as she did often when facing a conundrum. The cons were great in number, but the pros were overwhelmingly strong. He is a monstrous torturer, Voldemort's pawn, a merciless killing machine feared by everyone with no regard for human life or societal norms. He wants to marry you because that would leave the Order at his mercy. He wants to marry you because he wants to have the power to humiliate you, to hurt you, maybe even physically and sexually. But if you don't marry him, then he will kill all of you without a second thought; he will give you in to Voldemort and all will be lost.
The choice seemed so simple once Hermione stopped feeling sorry for herself and put all regard for her own well-being aside.
Eight days after the news, she was making a new batch of Antidote to Common Poisons in the dungeons together with Snape. She had her answer and she waited for the right chance to voice it, but she procrastinated, realizing this would put end to all of it – to her life at Hogwarts, to her daily tasks, to her meetings with friends, and, most importantly, to her proximity to the Order.
"Professor," she began while chopping up Unicorn's horn. "I wanted to let you know that I've come up to a decision concerning that offer we've talked about," she continued, trying to keep her voice from shaking.
She knew Snape's attention was fully on her even if he kept on slicing mistletoe berries with rhythmic precision.
Hermione breathed in. "I'll do it," she said. "I'll marry the High Reeve."