Allison Illuminated

5/19/21

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MY HAND FOR A LIBRARY

A Dramione Fanfiction

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[Summary] When a ministry law mandates all former Death Eaters recieve muggleborn spouses to rejuvenate the old bloodlines, Hermione snags Draco Malfoy's marriage contract so she can have pure, unfettered access to the Malfoy library, the largest private collection of magical texts in Britain. It's only logical, of course. It takes her a few months to realize that there might be something to the man that came with her new collection of books.

Draco's new wife is the most infuriating, swottish, oblivious woman he's ever had to deal with, and Draco would be considerably less angry about falling in love with her if she would notice his existence for longer than five minutes.

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Malfoy,

You have a book on 12th century French arithmancy that I need for a project concerning a piece of magical theory I am currently working on. I would like to come to Malfoy Manor on Friday at three to acquire a copy. I would appreciate it if you could floo me in somewhere other than your parlor; I'm sure you understand why I wouldn't want to go anywhere near the room where your aunt carved a racial slur into my arm. I should be no longer than an hour.

Yours,

Hermione Granger

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Granger,

Absolutely not.

- DM

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Malfoy,

I believe my previous correspondence did not impress upon you the necessity of this text for my research. I am exceptionally close to a breakthrough regarding the magical signature and properties of dark magic, and you possess the only copy of the texts that have any relevant information on the dark arts. I suppose I ought to be grateful to your family for bribing the knowledge out of ministry hands. I have exhausted the Black library and I have need of the Malfoy library.

Additionally, I believe that you possess crucial information regarding the composition of Dementor and Lethifold biology. I will take copies of those books as well. Are the rumors true that the Malfoy family has a sample of Dementor cloak?

I will arrive on Wednesday at four to arrange the transfer.

Yours truly,

Hermione Granger, Order of Merlin, First Class

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Granger,

I honestly cannot believe that you think throwing around your war hero status will win you favors from me like the rest of your little flock of admirers. Surely you know me better than to think I've fallen to such pathetic depths of my pride.

And what the bloody hell do you want with a dementor cloak, witch? Do you want to dabble in the Dark Arts? Certifiable. I would have thought you'd have enough of that after the war.

I will not give you access to my library. If you try to proposition my mother again, I will use what influence I have left to make your life miserable. I may be under house arrest but I am still a Malfoy. I would think Potter would thank me from keeping his precious Golden Girl from going dark. Find a better research project.

Draco Malfoy, Most Ancient and Noble House of Malfoy

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Draco.

Hermione Granger, Order of Merlin, First Class, Master of Arithmancy, Charms, and Experimental Spellwork, Brightest Witch of her Age

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Excuse you? Are we children? Since when do you use my first name?

That's Malfoy to you, Hermione.

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I believe you're being the child for withholding access of your library from me.

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You're tiring my owl out. Stop sending me notes like a first year.

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Draco,

For your information, my work is directly relevant to you and your family's interests, given that I am currently one of the only witches in Britain who is still working on undoing the damages that your Dark Lord did to this country, rather than moving on with the useless prattle of society like everyone else. My research interest is in a true counter to dark magic, which has important applications like removing the atrocious scarring magic your aunt left in my arm and eventually removing the cattle brand you call a tattoo from your arm. If you don't understand the corruptive destruction the Dark Arts has upon its users and victims, I'm not surprised. You do after all hate me for no other reason than my parentage, despite the fact that I have demonstrated myself magically superior to you in nearly every aspect, and I am currently on the cutting edge of magical research while you spend your life alone in your Manor under house arrest.

I am offering you an opportunity to redeem yourself, and perhaps live a life that isn't ruled by the madman you swore yourself to at sixteen. I, unlike you, believe that people have the capacity to change. So you will allow me into your library and do some good in your life for once.

Your name is lovely. If you were able to leave your property, maybe you would even be able to hear someone else say it once in a while.

I believe my vitriol toward you is justified. You are a selfish arrogant prejudiced git who has treated me with nothing but spite and malice, but I don't think you're evil. I wouldn't have testified for you otherwise. And, believe it or not, if you were to give me the damn books so I can finish my research, I would help you work towards clemency and a reintroduction into society. I doubt many others on my side are clamoring to help you, Draco. Take your out. This can be a mutually beneficial arrangement.

Hermione

P.S. I had tea with your mother. She's lovely. I cannot believe you won't allow her to let me access the library, you petty bastard

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Hermione,

I always knew you were a Slytherin at heart. You're perfectly vicious, you know. I don't suppose you ever had any regard to my ego, pathetic me, sitting alone in my Manor without any prospects or use while you're off gallivanting around, reshaping the world.

What part of stay the fuck away from my mother don't you understand?

No, I don't think I will help you. Not because I hate you. I don't. I haven't hated you since I took the mark. Quite honestly, at this point I'm not going to let you have the books out of spite, you nasty woman. I may be a war criminal and generally forgotten by society, but I'm not your means to an end. I am a Malfoy. You will not use me.

Good luck finding your research from someone you can stand to be pleasant toward.

Draco

P.S. Draco's pride is only wounded, Hermione dearest. I'll talk to him – he'll come around. Please don't let him know I intercept his correspondence, he'll be annoyed at me for weeks for meddling. I would love another tea date later this week – Saturday perhaps? You have grown to be quite the formidable witch. -Narcissa

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Hermione walked into the Department of Marriage and Divorce Affairs at the Ministry, quite lost in her thoughts about her latest set of equations. She had been more than happy to come in to discuss a new mandate surrounding former Death Eaters, although she hadn't truly registered what Minister Shacklebolt had wanted from her – something about marriage? It didn't matter much to her. She was far more concerned with isolating the magical signature of blood curses from the objects they were imbued into, a pursuit that she had been quite happy to let consume her, and nobody around her seemed to mind that she was absent-minded as ever.

Ronald had broken up with her years ago, and Hermione was honestly quite happy about it. He had never understood her dedication to her work. He got his Lavender – they were sickening together, and had two children – and she got her books. She had a perfunctory dinner with Harry and Ginny and their brood once a week, occasionally attended Ministry events and social gatherings, and otherwise got to pursuit her interests to her heart's content.

"The contracts are quite advantageous toward the muggleborns, of course," Kingsley was saying to her. She blinked at him. Contracts? Oh, yes, marriage contracts, they were discussing her marriage. That was fine. Hermione didn't figure a marriage would matter much to her, and if it helped the Minister end blood purity, all the better. "You'll have full rights and privelleges to your husband's house, without any of the pureblood magic that used to control their wives. I mean, I suppose you could experiment with bonding magic later-"

"Bonding magic?" Hermione asked, perking up.

Kingsley shook his head fondly. "Yes. Fertility rituals, soul bonds, the like. You could pursue them later. All I need from you today is to sign a contract – nobody is expecting Hermione Granger to have a grand wedding with an ex-Death Eater. Truly, I thought you would be more resistant to the idea of-"

"Marrying a Death Eater?" Hermione asked absently, reaching out and flipping through the contracts.

"Um. Yes."

"It's fine, really. I'll do it for appearances. I've never cared much for sex, and if it's for the greater good I suppose it shouldn't be too horrible. I'll hex them if they get any ideas."

"...You'll have to provide an heir. It will be exceptionally difficult to obtain a divorce from a pureblood."

Hermione shrugged. "Pregnancy is perfectly biological. It shouldn't interrupt my research."

"Right." Kingsley floundered, searching for words, suddenly unsure of himself. "Look, Hermione, you know I have great respect for you. I don't want you to feel pressured into doing anything that you're not comfortable with. Have you fully thought this through?"

"If you respect me as much as you say you do, shouldn't you trust me to know what I'm doing?"

That appropriately quailed Kingsley, and Hermione gave a satisfied little hum at his lack of response. She stilled on a contract of interest. Written in black ink, Draco Malfoy's name was scrawled across the bottom of the marriage contract, right beneath a fascinating little clause about property rights. A little smirk stretched across Hermione's face. Nobody would dare keep Lady Malfoy out of her own library. That would show Draco.

Without bothering to so much as consult the minister, Hermione took her quill and signed her name across the contract with an elegant flourish. She closed her eyes and pitched her head back in satisfaction as the magic rushed through her veins, sealing her to the Malfoy name. She loved magic. Already she could feel the new vast pool within her system, the promise of a near endless resource she would never tire of plumbing. Narcissa would be pleased.

Kingsley picked up the contract and paled. "Hermione? Hermione, did you read this? You just- You just married Draco Malfoy!"

"That's Lady Malfoy to you," Hermione said in her best prim, haughty voice, rising from her chair and sweeping out of the room. She managed to hold her composure until she was out in the hallway, where she dissolved into private giggles, congratulating herself for her own cleverness.

Hermione Malfoy. Has a ring, I suppose. It's not like my parents remember who I am to be disappointed in me.

She left the Ministry to ready her possessions for her move. She had a new library to explore.

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Oh, Merlin, was her brand new library wonderful. Two floors of books, beautiful old cherry shelves packed to the brim with tomes she had never even heard of, a gorgeous eighteenth century architecture that soared overhead, capturing the light outside her Manor beautifully. Hermione had decided to spend her first few days here researching her new family's history; it was only right that she know everything about the Malfoys and their unfairly gorgeous mansion, which had been thoroughly redecorated since her last unfortunate visit. Voldemort's stain had been scrubbed away, leaving Malfoy Manor in its proper grandeur. She was deep in a book of her family magic, happily testing out secret Malfoy spells in the new dress robes Narcissa had set out for her when she was rudely interrupted.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing in my library?"

Hermione stopped pouring over a passage regarding a particularly interesting ward and gave Draco a cursory glance. Draco was spitting mad, a rather attractive fire in his steely gray eyes, his hair well-shorn and his aristocratic elegance only refined with age. "Don't be so dramatic, Draco," she said dismissively. "It's my library too, now isn't it? I'd rather think you'd want me here. I believe it is the duty of Lady Malfoy to keep her house in order, no? Our motto is Sanctimonia Vincet Semper." She wrinkled her nose at that. "Seriously. Purity always prevails? We'll work on it."

"You can't-" Draco spluttered. "You can't just walk in and change our family motto, you bint!"

"That's no way to talk to your wife."

"I had no say in this marriage! I told you, you won't use me!"

"I'm not using you," Hermione said, patient, like she used to explain simple concepts to Ron at Hogwarts. Honestly, what was it with men and overreacting. "Our relationship hasn't changed, other than the fact that our magics have been bound together for life. I don't expect anything from you as my husband. I've already moved in-"

"Where?"

"The East Wing. Third room. Cissa-"

"Don't call my mother Cissa."

"Cissa insisted. I do think she's always wanted a daughter."

Draco moaned in despair and slumped down in a chair next to Hermione. He gave the books in from of her a hopeless look. "Why did it have to be you?" he mumbled to himself. "Why is it always you? Why are you taking this seriously?"

"I'm a Malfoy," Hermione said simply. "I never do anything poorly or half-arsed, Draco, you know that. We're not children anymore. Besides, Cissa is quite lovely. I hadn't realized how much I missed having a mother."

"What about your muggle parents?"

"Oh, they don't remember I exist. I obliviated them and sent them to Australia in sixth year. And Molly is always so overbearing. She tries but she doesn't understand me at all." Hermione gave the book before her a soft smile, fingering the fabric at the end of her dress. "Cissa loves me already. I felt it in the family magic as soon as I joined. I don't really understand, but I love her too. She's always been good to me, even before I married you."

"Oh."

Draco didn't seem to have anything else to say, so Hermione went back to studying the ward.

"You did that to your parents?"

"They would have died."

"You realize how unusual it is for the Malfoy family magic to integrate you so quickly, right? Usually it would take years. It should have taken years for you to feel that toward my mother. Years and a lot of sex."

Hermione shrugged airily, casting the ward at the center of the library and leaning in her seat. Draco gaped at her – had that been non-verbal magic? Oh well. Casting was so simple now that she was married. "Maybe I was always meant to be a Malfoy," she offered. "The magic certainly likes me. My research indicates that it takes so damn long because pureblood magic is tied to so many families that the new family has to rip away. I slot in, and Cissa's like the mother that's always been there. There's a reason I went along with this law, Draco, darling, do try to keep up."

"But-"

"I'm an academic and a muggleborn. I'm not stupid."

"The sex-"

"Would you like to perform your husbandly duties?" Hermione inquired. "I have several thoughts about England I've been saving. The duty of conception-"

"I don't want to have sex only for conception!" Draco exploded. "What are you, asexual? Does pleasure mean nothing to you? Are you asking me to be celibate for the rest of my life?"

"Does that mean you're not ready to conceive with me?"

"Yes!"

"That's fine. Consent is important." Hermione wordlessly dispelled her new ward and flipped the page in the grimoire. "Let me know when you're ready. I haven't finished reviewing the registry of family names, after all, and I'll have to have a proper Malfoy name prepared. I do intend to restore our house to its Most Ancient and Noble status, Draco, and I can't let the mess that you and your father and grandfather made of it continue. Our children will be better educated."

"Better-" Draco clammed up, staring at Hermione, swaying unsteadily in place. "I loathe you," he eventually managed. "Wife."

"That's a shame, husband," Hermione shot back. She was quite enjoying riling Draco up, to be honest. After years of bullying it was nice to have the upper hand. "Here I was thinking that I didn't find your presence half as odious as I used to. I do love you, after all."

"You- you do?"

"Do you not feel it?" Hermione turned to look Draco in the eyes, feeling far more ancient than her twenty-seven years in that moment. It was reflected onto Draco's face. Her family magic pulsed beneath her breast. "It's quite remarkable – although a shame if you can't feel our family magic. I feel everything you are, your magic, these walls, all of it. The Manor is alive, I think – it was quite apologetic when it realized what Bellatrix did to me while it was slumbering. Your grandfather put it to sleep and I woke it up. I feel you, Draco. I would never let any harm come to pass against you, no matter what. You are mine. What could that be, other than love?"

Draco paled. He stumbled back fearfully. "I have to go," he said in a rush, backing away from Hermione. "You've- you've stolen my name from me, Hermione Malfoy. I- I- Misha!"

Nothing happened.

"Dammit, woman, where's my house elf?!"

"Oh, I freed them all," Hermione said, picking at her cuticles with her wand. "That enslavement enchantment is horrid. Did you know all house elves were free and voluntarily symbiotic with family magics until the thirteenth century? Most of them wanted to leave. Slavery is rather nasty, after all, and you and your father and the Dark Lord were particularly cruel. Villy and Lalu and their families decided to stay, I think, but you might have to re-earn their loyalties. Maybe go find Cissa for what you need?"

Hermione dismissed Draco with a gesture and returned to her work, leaving her husband mumbling to himself behind her. "She freed the elves. She freed them. All of them. Never thought she would but she went and freed them. My wife. Freed our house elves. Went and set them loose. Bloody fucking hell…"

Once Draco was gone, Hermione allowed herself a vicious grin.

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[A/N] It's finals week, and this just poured out of my fingertips when I was supposed to be studying physics. I don't mind – I always adore some lovely dramione lol. This is humor, but not quite a crackfic, I suppose. Because there are never enough stupid tropey marriage law fics :).

Because Passive Aggressive Hermione is an absolute delight and Draco is a jilted and bored house husband. Poor baby has no idea what he's in for. Hermione Malfoy, dismantling the institution of marriage one indifferent day at a time.

I'm so tired guys. Exams should be illegal. Be nice, I wrote this for the shits and giggles. Shoot me those follows/favorites/kudos and reviews/comments, babes, I am in desperate need of dopamine if I want any hope of finishing my French essay.

Love, Allie