Chapter 6: A Familiar Threat

The room felt like it was closing in on Hermione, the stone walls looming like silent witnesses to her helplessness. Draco Malfoy sat there, a chilling statue of cruelty, flanked by hulking Death Eaters who looked as if they'd relish any excuse to draw their wands. His eyes, those same steel-grey eyes she had once seen as cold but indifferent, now glittered with an unsettling obsession. They were identical to Aries's, yet everything about Draco felt hollow and merciless, devoid of the warmth she'd come to know.

"What, exactly, were you doing in a Muggle village?" he asked, his voice smooth yet dripping with venom. His gaze sliced through her, making her feel as if he were peeling back her very thoughts. "And what is Miss... McLaggen doing here with you, Kingsley?" he sneered, his lips curling as though he could barely stand the sight of her. "A curious place for a young witch with… such interesting connections."

Hermione's heart slammed against her ribcage, each beat a deafening echo in her ears. She couldn't look away, trapped in his predatory stare. It was as if he was savoring her fear, feeding off the tension in the air. His expression twisted, shifting into something dark, something that barely contained the wrath coiled within him.

"Escaping once was bad enough," he continued, his voice lowering to a dangerous whisper as he leaned forward. "Did you think I wouldn't hunt you down again? That you could evade me forever?"

The blood drained from Hermione's face. The memory of her narrow escape, Sirius's hand pulling her to safety, flickered in her mind. She hadn't thought it possible for him to look so furious, so… obsessed. She felt his anger like a physical force in the room, filling every inch with a tension so thick it was suffocating.

"I'm beginning to think," Draco murmured, his voice almost a caress yet laced with deadly intent, "that your involvement with the Order goes far deeper than mere chance. Rescued by Sirius Black, slipping from my grasp… Makes one wonder what other secrets you're hiding, Miss McLaggen."

Kingsley's voice cut through, steady but strained. "I was on Ministry business, Malfoy. Miss McLaggen's presence here is incidental. We're here to address an urgent matter, not submit to your interrogation."

Draco didn't even glance at him. "Do you think I care about your so-called business, Shacklebolt?" His words were sharp, cold, as he waved a dismissive hand. "With the Ministry under our command, I alone decide what is worthy of our attention. And she," he hissed, his gaze drilling into Hermione, "is far more interesting than whatever tale you've spun."

A hollow pit of dread settled in Hermione's stomach. She forced herself to remain silent, desperate to hide the terror clawing at her throat. The walls felt too close, the air too thick, and Draco's gaze was an iron weight, pressing down on her. She wanted to run, to scream, but her body betrayed her, frozen under the intensity of his contempt.

"She's coming with me," Draco declared, rising to his feet. His voice was deadly soft, a blade hidden in velvet. "I'll decide if she's truly Miss McLaggen or some Mudblood intruding on affairs far beyond her station."

"Malfoy—" Kingsley stepped forward, his voice tense, blocking Draco's path. But Draco's sneer only deepened.

"Step aside, Shacklebolt," he growled, his tone menacingly low. "You may have a place in the Ministry, but don't mistake that for power. She is a risk we cannot ignore, not with the Order prowling and Mudbloods infiltrating circles they don't belong to." He cast a scornful glance at Hermione. "Seen with Black, fraternizing with known threats… Tell me that doesn't concern you, or perhaps I'll start questioning your loyalties."

A deadly silence filled the room, and then Draco's wand flashed up, the word slicing through the air with cruel precision. "Crucio!"

Hermione's scream tore through the stone walls as agony seized her. Her body crumpled to the floor, every nerve ablaze with excruciating pain, her vision shattering into a thousand white-hot fragments. She could feel nothing but pain—raw, relentless, and all-consuming. It was as if her very soul was on fire, writhing under the weight of his curse.

"Did you truly believe," Draco's voice cut through the fog of agony, a dark edge of satisfaction coloring his tone, "that you could escape me? That you could keep your identity hidden?"

Hermione's world was spinning, her thoughts fragmenting into senseless pain. She could barely comprehend his words, but the cold hatred in his voice was unmistakable.

"STOP this instant, Malfoy!" Kingsley's voice was a fierce roar, trembling with fury and desperation. "If she is a suspected Order member, she's to be investigated by the Law Enforcement. As an Auror, she falls under my jurisdiction!"

The curse lifted, and Hermione slumped forward, gasping, her body wracked with tremors. The aftershocks of pain pulsed through her, leaving her drained, her senses dulled. She could barely see through the blur of tears, her vision hazy as Kingsley's voice thundered in the background, filled with anger.

Draco sneered, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. "Fine," he said icily, lowering his wand, though his face remained twisted with contempt. "But make no mistake, Shacklebolt, this isn't over. If she's truly innocent, then bring her to the Ministry. Or else you'll answer to me. And as for you, McLaggen…" His gaze lingered on her, a cruel smile curling on his lips. "We'll meet again. And next time, no one will be there to protect you."

With a final, venomous glare, Draco turned on his heel, his cloak sweeping behind him as he strode out, his guards falling in behind him.

Hermione tried to move, but her body betrayed her, trembling uncontrollably, and tears slipped down her cheeks. How could she ever have adored those same eyes? Now they were only a source of terror, a reminder of pain she could still feel in every corner of her body.

Kingsley knelt beside her, his face tight with concern. "Come on, Hermione," he said, his tone soft, almost pleading. "We have to go, now."

She forced herself to her feet, leaning on him for support as they stumbled toward the exit. Every step felt like agony, her limbs heavy and unresponsive. As they passed the stone-faced Death Eaters, she could see their smirks, their eyes filled with amusement at her suffering.

At last, they reached the gate. Kingsley took one last look back before pulling her close, and with a final twist, they Disapparated, leaving that chamber of nightmares behind.

When they appeared at the camp, Sirius, Harry, and the others were already pacing anxiously, their faces lit by the flickering light of their campsite's fire. Harry's expression was a mix of worry and anger as he saw the condition of Hermione.

"What happened? Are you both alright?" he asked, his gaze flickering to Hermione with clear concern.

Kingsley took a deep breath. "We ran into…complications. Malfoy questioned us, and he's insisting that Hermione be brought to the Ministry to confirm her blood status, and to question her involvement with the Order." He rubbed the bridge of his nose, looking between the group. "The only way to keep her safe is to find a way to prevent the Ministry from taking her for questioning."

Still shaken from the torment she'd endured, Hermione took a steadying breath, forcing herself to push past the lingering pain. She looked up, her voice barely above a whisper as the weight of their situation pressed down on her. "What… what do we do now?"

Sirius exchanged a long look with Kingsley before turning to Harry, an idea dawning. "There might be one way," he said carefully. "If Hermione were…married, it would complicate matters for the Ministry. They wouldn't be able to seize her as easily, especially if her husband was a half-blood or pureblood."

Hermione's breath caught, her eyes widening as the implications of his words settled in. "You're saying…to avoid being taken by the Ministry, I'd have to marry someone?"

Kingsley nodded slowly. "It would give you legal protection, Hermione. They wouldn't be able to treat you the same way, not without risking conflict with your…spouse's family."

"Marriage… it just seems so drastic," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "Surely, there's another way. Perhaps we could find somewhere else to hide, or I could go into disguise, or—"

Kingsley shook his head, his expression solemn. "Hermione, I've thought this through from every angle. As things stand, marriage is the only protection strong enough to keep the Ministry from claiming you." He leaned forward, his voice dropping as if to soften the blow. "If you were married, they'd have no right to question you without your husband's permission. No right to detain you or interfere. It's the one safeguard we know they'd hesitate to cross because of the risk of a blood feud."

Mad-Eye also turned to her. "If you will not marry, Kingsley will be obligated to turn you in. Otherwise he will also be questioned, and he cannot be associated to the Order. He is our spy within the Ministry."

Hermione looked down, her mind reeling. She'd bee transported two hundred years to the past, have been subjectd to torture, and now here she was, backed into a corner, forced to rely on a marital status to guarantee her safety.

Hermione looked around the group, her gaze lingering on Harry, who was watching her with a mixture of determination and uncertainty. "And…who would be willing to do that?" she whispered.

"I thought about who could help," he said gently, looking at Hermione. "Sirius would be the strongest choice—he's pureblood and could keep you well-protected. But," he paused, casting a quick look toward Sirius, "we all know he's already involved with Amelia Bones."

Sirius looked at Hermione apologetically, nodding. "I'd do it in a heartbeat, Hermione, but… Amelia and I—well, things are getting serious."

Kingsley continued, his gaze turning to Remus. "Remus can't," he said, his voice softened.

Remus nodded, his face resigned but understanding. "It wouldn't offer her enough protection, Hermione. I'm sorry."

Mad-Eye gave a gruff nod. "I'd offer, but that'd be more suspicious than helpful," he muttered, a rare hint of humor breaking through the tension. Kingsley smirked at the thought before continuing.

"That leaves Ron and Harry."

Ron's ears reddened, and he shifted uncomfortably. "Hermione, I'd do anything to help you. I want you to know that. But…" He hesitated, his voice dropping. "I… well, I care about Luna. I hope one day I can… you know, ask her properly." He looked down, not meeting her eyes, but his expression was earnest.

Kingsley's gaze shifted to Harry, and everyone followed, a heavy silence settling over them. Harry's expression was unwavering, a grim resolve in his eyes as he looked at Hermione, his face taut with the weight of what was at stake.

"If this is the only way to keep you safe, Hermione," he said softly, his voice filled with quiet determination, "then I'll do it. I'll marry you."

Hermione's heart stilled, a wave of conflicting emotions crashing through her—relief, dread, and a deep sadness at the reality of their choices. She struggled for words, her voice barely steady. "Harry, are you certain? You don't have to… This can't be the only solution. How could the only choice be marriage? There have to be laws to protect women—something other than this barbaric alternative." Her voice cracked with desperation as she searched their faces, hoping for some other answer.

Mad-Eye grunted, his tone blunt and resigned. "The law's twisted, lass. In their eyes, a woman's no more than her husband's property. And that's exactly what we're aiming to use to keep you out of Malfoy's reach."

Hermione's gaze darted around, clinging to any last shred of hope. But all she saw was the same grave acceptance mirrored in each face. Her eyes settled back on Harry, catching the flicker of conflict and burden in his own.

"Harry… this isn't fair to you either. You're being pushed into this marriage too," she whispered, voice thick with the weight of what she was asking him to sacrifice.

Harry took a deep, steadying breath, his eyes softening as he looked at her. "Hermione, if the choice is between seeing you suffer in Malfoy's hands and… and this, then I'll do it. I wouldn't wish what you just went through on anyone, least of all on you." His voice dropped, barely above a whisper. "I'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe."

Sirius clapped Harry on the back with a proud look, and Ron gave a half-hearted grin, though the tension was thick in the air. Hermione felt a lump form in her throat, realizing the weight of what Harry was offering. She was grateful beyond words, yet deeply conflicted. But with everything at stake, she knew this was the only way forward—for all of them.

-Later that night-

Hermione pressed her fingers to her temples, feeling the weight of it all crashing down on her as she sat alone in her tent. The whirlwind of events—the strange twist of fate that had brought her here, her constant evasion from Aries's ancestor, and now the very real possibility that her only escape was… marriage. It was too much, too surreal.

She heard someone approaching, and, after a tentative pause, Harry stepped inside. He looked uncertain, his hands shoved into his pockets, as if unsure where to begin.

"Hermione… I know this isn't what you'd want," he said gently, sitting down across from her. "It's not the best choice, especially not when it's marriage to someone you're not in love with." He sighed. "If there were any other way, we'd have found it by now."

She looked away, her voice tight. "It's just… is this really the only option? There has to be someone you're interested in back home—someone like… Ginny?"

Harry shook his head, a faint smile on his face. "No, there's no one, Hermione. I wouldn't be the best choice as a husband anyway. With Voldemort after me, I'm not exactly safe to be around. And it's not just him," he admitted, his voice lowering. "There's a price on my head from within the Ministry too. They know I'm tied to the Order, and that makes me a target."

He met her gaze, eyes filled with empathy. "I know this isn't what you want, Hermione. But if it's the only way… you won't be alone in it. I'll be here with you. Whatever it takes to get through this, we'll face it together."

Hermione felt a strange sense of calm settle over her. Harry's honesty and willingness to shoulder this with her was reassuring, and in that moment, the uncertainty of her path seemed a little less daunting. She gave him a small nod, and though the decision was still overwhelming, she knew that, with Harry's support, she wouldn't have to face it alone.

After Harry left Hermione's tent, he found himself pacing outside, gathering his thoughts. Then, with a determined set to his jaw, he strode over to where Sirius, Kingsley, and the others were still discussing their next steps.

"Sirius," he began, voice steady but intense, "if we're going to go through with this… I want it to be done right. Hermione deserves that much. A real wedding. A proper one."

Sirius raised an eyebrow, exchanging a glance with Kingsley, while Mad-Eye grunted in vague approval.

"A proper wedding?" Sirius repeated, his tone softening as he realized the weight of what Harry was saying. "You mean with… everything?"

Harry nodded firmly. "Yes. In a church, with a priest. And Hermione should have a proper dress. It's bad enough she's being forced into this, and I want her to have something that feels real… something that gives her a choice in how she experiences this."

Kingsley gave a slow, approving nod. "I can help arrange the priest. It may be risky, but if we're discreet, I know someone who might be willing."

Mad-Eye huffed but added gruffly, "We're risking enough as it is; might as well make it decent."

Sirius smiled, a rare softness in his eyes. "Leave it to me and the lads to make sure Hermione gets the best dress she could want. We'll find a way."

Ron, who had been listening nearby, piped up, looking surprisingly solemn. "We'll make it special, Harry. Hermione deserves that much, and more."

Harry felt a wave of relief wash over him. If they were going to make Hermione endure this, then they would make sure it wasn't a moment of sacrifice, but a memory of strength, dignity, and respect.

After Harry's conversation with Sirius, Kingsley, and the others about ensuring Hermione had a proper wedding, he took a moment, glancing back toward the tent where she was still gathering her thoughts. His mind raced with plans beyond just the ceremony. This arrangement wasn't only a strategic move—it was Hermione's life they were talking about. And if they were to share something as significant as marriage, he wanted to give her a semblance of normalcy, a memory untouched by fear and strategy.

"Sirius," he started again, voice laced with newfound resolve. "Once this is done, I want Hermione and I to go somewhere. A proper place—not a tent, not the woods. We're married, and I'll be damned if we consummate this marriage in a makeshift camp."

Sirius raised an eyebrow, a bit surprised but not entirely. There was an understanding in his eyes as he nodded. "Of course, Harry. I'll help arrange it. There's a safe house on the coast, far from here. Private, secure. You'd have days there, alone, to…well, to settle in, I suppose."

Kingsley folded his arms thoughtfully. "A day or two for you both is all we can afford at the moment. It could do you good, especially if this is to be a long haul. You'll need to know each other better, and Hermione deserves that time to adjust."

"Precisely," Harry replied, his voice steady but determined. "This isn't just a show, and it's not just strategy. I want Hermione to feel safe. It's bad enough that she has to marry against her will."

Sirius nodded, smiling a bit. "Good on you, Harry. She may not say it, but I think Hermione will appreciate it too. She's been through so much; she deserves something real."

As the group murmured in agreement, Harry felt the tension in his chest ease. He would make sure their first days as husband and wife weren't defined by strategy and survival but by the warmth of a safe place, where Hermione could finally let her guard down, and where they could discover what this new bond might truly mean.