Hullo Hullo Hullo! Yes, I am starting another multi-chapter fic, but don't worry, I will not be ignoring ASITD, in face, I will be updating that on Wednesday, so be on a lookout for that. But yeh, I present to you a Marriage!Dramione Fic, and I hope you guys like it. And if you do, then please, PLEASE, leave a review because y'all suck at that. I mean I love you, but it doesn't take too long to leave a review/compliment/whatever else. So yeah, if you do I'll give you a truckload of digital choco chip cookies. ahaha Anyway, hope you enjoy it, love ya 3
XxDracoxHermion3
Reprieve
Chapter 1: Worst Day of Her Life
Who would have thought that war heroine, brightest witch of her age, and world-renowned Muggle-born Hermione Granger would be bedecked in an ivory, sickly elaborate, fully tailored wedding gown? Well, anyone really. But for whom she was walking down the aisle for…now that was the element of surprise. Confusion. The whole ordeal of 'How could she do such a thing?' But you're probably wondering, what is she doing that is causing such major confusion and horror?
Oh, right, today is the day when Hermione Granger weds the one and only, Draco fucking Malfoy.
Cameras flashing. People peering over each other's shoulders to watch the blushing bride walk down to her very soon-to-be husband. So many people. People she could only recognize as past Death Eaters, but for the most part these faces were unknown to her.
Which just added to her already profound nerves.
Why is this bloody dress so heavy? Why is it backless? Why. Are. People. Staring. At. Me. Why is this happening to me? All thoughts running through her head at this very moment, as she gracefully treads down the very, very, long emerald green runner on the arm of Lucius Malfoy (since even her own parents weren't invited, nor were they even told that their own daughter was getting married, nonetheless to her childhood tormentor).
Hermione kept her chin high and her posture straight, telling herself that she doesn't need to look all small and frail for these Pureblood supremacists. Even though her potential in-laws claimed they cared no longer for such things. Hah, she scoffed, yeah right.
And because she was so lost in her thoughts, she didn't even realize that they had reached the altar and were now taking their places as the Wizarding-whatever-priest-guy, Hermione reckoned that he was probably an Auror, stepped up to his podium. He raised his hands and the whole hall went silent, and all the guests took their seats.
She didn't know she was so nervous, because when she was asked to join hands with Malfoy, she found herself trembling immensely as she lifted her shaking limbs. Hermione sucked in a shaky breath as their hands came in contact, yet she refused to look at him. Blubbering, slimy, manipulative little git,
Malfoy had the audacity to smirk as he rubbed circles on her knuckles, a mocking gesture to comfort. And he couldn't help but look her up and down. The dress his mother had designed was looking rather fetching on his bride. It accentuated her curves in all the right places, showed the perfect amount of her creamy, slightly freckled skin, and emphasized her natural beauty. The ivory color brought out the gold in her eyes, the eyes he had so much fallen in love with.
But, even though she was truly selling the blushing bride look, he could tell that she was scared beyond her wits. And he could also tell that she was keeping a façade to cover it because, well, she's a bloody Gryffindor. He gripped her hand tighter and watched as her brow scrunched in pain. He smirked again. This is going to be fun.
"Ladies and Gentlemen of the country, we are gathered here today for the holy matrimony of Draco Abraxas Malfoy and Hermione Jean Granger." There was slight applause, and Hermione trembled even more.
"Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger, know now before you go further, that since your lives have crossed in this life, you have formed eternal and sacred bonds. As you seek to enter this state of matrimony you should strive to make real the ideals that to you, give meaning this ceremony and to the institution of marriage. With full awareness, know that within this circle you are not only declaring your intent to be hand fasted before your friends and family, but you speak that intent also to your creative higher powers. The promises made today and the ties that are bound here greatly strengthen your union and will cross the years and lives of each soul's growth. Do you still seek to enter this ceremony?"
"Yes," spoke the confident, slightly malicious, voice of Malfoy.
Hermione hesitated as she stared at their conjoined hands, not finding it within her to agree to this disgusting, rather unholy, bondage. Tears blurred and un-blurred her vision, threatening her right here, in front of some of the most influential Pureblood families of Wizarding Britain. She glanced at the pale, blond man in front of her, and he gave her a stern look with a tight jaw, digging his nails into her palm. Hermione stared at him through her lashes and whimpered silently.
"Y-yes."
The after party was horrible. Absolutely migraine-inducingly bad.
And she thought the actual wedding ceremony was bad.
Malfoy had stubbornly placed his hand on the bare small of her back, adamant in keeping it there as he whisked her away from one family to the other. "Ah, Mrs. Zabini," he said, shoving Hermione in front of him, pressing his front to her backside, watching her visibly stiffen, "meet my wife, Hermione Malfoy. Hermione, love, this is Mrs. Zabini, Blaise's mum." Hermione smiled, offering a small embrace to the beautiful dark-skinned woman before her. "It's a pleasure to meet your acquaintance. Mal-Draco, here, speaks fondly quite fondly of you." The woman chuckled, "Oh, Draco, you charming lad. You've chosen quite a lovely bride. Well-spoken and clever. Not to mention rather beautiful. Take care of her, hmm?"
"Of course, Mrs. Zabini. I strive only to make her happy," Hermione scoffed at that, and Malfoy noticed, "What was that, love?"
Hermione plastered a fake grin on her face, "Oh nothing at all, dear. I was thinking about…hah, never mind that." Draco raised a brow at her, scrutinizing.
"Well, if we're done here, I believe dinner is ready."
Dinner was the worst.
She thought the wedding was bad.
She thought the after party was bad.
No, no. those paled in comparison to the hellish dinner party that was served at the Manor. Her mouth was nearly cramping by the time it was over, having smiled falsely to so many people all night. Her body ached from the weight of the lacy, multi-layered, and extremely long wedding gown. Her head pounded with an excruciating migraine, feeling as if all of her knowledge was all muddled together. She just wanted to take this bloody thing off and go to bed.
Bed sounded so nice until she remembered where she was.
I won't be going home anytime soon… I won't be seeing my friends…they all hate me…I have no one…
And…cue the waterworks. Tears silently traveled down her face and fell onto her dress, and she felt her chest constricting. Constricting with hate, anguish, despair, anger, revenge. All emotions compacted so tightly she could feel herself fighting the ability to breathe.
"I want…my own room."
"What?"
"You heard me, Malfoy! I want my own room!"
"Hermione-"
"Don't call me that! My name sounds like a bloody curse on your tongue. Don't you ever say my name again or I swear to Merlin I'll-"
"You'll what, Hermione? What can you possibly do to scare me? What can you possibly do to have me at your mercy while you are obviously at mine? Hmm? If you haven't forgotten, I own you now. You are mine. And you will be, for the rest of your life." He grabbed her wrist and pushed her roughly against the wall, "And no amount of tears will ever dissuade me from claiming you," he whispered huskily, running one cool thumb along her trail of tears. She shuddered visibly, sucking in small, panted breaths.
"Don't cry, love. Tears don't suit your pretty face."
She spat at him, right on his perfectly sculpted cheek, "I hate you."
He chuckled darkly, wiping away the wetness from his face with the back of his hand. "We'll see…"
"Draco! What on Earth are you doing to her! Let go of her, you fool."
He clenched his jaw and glared at Hermione, letting go of her wrist and stepping back. "Sorry, mother."
"You better not do that again, Draco. Imbecile. You should learn to cherish your beautiful wife, not hurt her." The slender woman turned to her Daughter-in-law, "Oh, Hermione, dear, I am so sorry. I should have warned you about his over compulsiveness."
"I am more than aware of it, Mrs. Malfoy."
"Mother, dear. You can call me mother."
Hermione stared at the gorgeous blonde woman in front of her in awe, then nodded curtly, "Right. Mo-Mother." Narcissa smiled warmly, "Good, now, is there anything you need before bedtime?"
Hermione glanced at her husband, seeing him tightly shake his head, and smirked, "Actually, yes, there is. See, I believe in order to contain his compulsiveness, I should seek slumber in a separate bedroom."
Narcissa looked perplexed, "Um…yes, of course. We have got plenty of rooms. How about one in the East Wing with Draco? Just in case you need something."
"That'll be fine, thank you."
Narcissa nodded, embracing her daughter-in-law with such kindness and warmth that Hermione was left pondering how Draco could possibly be the child of such a loving woman.
"If that'd be all for the time being, I believe it'd be best if I retire now," she gripped Hermione's hand and leaned in, whispering, "Lucius is probably waiting for me. The wedding and all of today's festivities have tired us both out. Goodnight, Hermione. Rest well, children." And with a haughty flip of her shimmery hair, Narcissa Malfoy strode out of the East Wing.
"Difficult to believe that you're her son."
Malfoy sneered at her, advancing towards his newly wedded bride, encaging her against the wall and his arms. His voice was scarily low when he spoke, and for a minute there Hermione was actually frightened. Her breath hitched in the back of her throat and she shuddered again as she felt the cold wall touch the bare skin of her back.
"Listen to me, Granger. If you want our deal to stay intact then you better learn to control yourself and stop using that overly knowledgeable brain of yours. Otherwise I'll have no choice other than to use force on you. And I have no intention of doing that, though it does sound very enjoyable, whatsoever, unless you leave me no other choice. So, fine, get your own bloody room but you will not meander your way out of what I command you to do ever again. Because as your husband, I have the ability to make choices for you and nothing will stop me from exercising my will upon my wife."
Hermione winced, digging herself closer to the wall as to get as far away from his face as possible. She could feel his hot breath tickle her ear and could pinpoint the intoxicating smell of his expensive cologne. "I thought I was a Malfoy now, huh?"
He smirked, a shadow of darkness clouding his eyes intermixed with a look of pure lust, and pushed himself off the wall. At the sudden loss of support Hermione felt her knees buckle and she ungracefully fell forwards, as if bowing down to the younger Malfoy before her. She twisted her ankle in the process, feeling the pain reverberate up her calf. She grimaced in discomfort and tried to get up, but to no avail. She plumped back down on her knees and felt hot tears prickle her eyes again. It hurt so damn much.
He shook his head, "Tsk, tsk. See what happens when you disrespect your husband? Pain and discomfort." He bent at the waist and used his hands to lift her off the floor. But of course, he was a lusty newly-wedded man, and seeing his wife on her hands and knees in front of him, with her bare back right in his view, he couldn't help the array of wonderful images as they flickered in his mind. He pressed slow, intimate traces over her spine, her skin so, so soft, and lifted her up into his arms. She gasped at the sudden sensation and then winced again as the pain in her ankle became renewed.
"You creep."
"I'm your creep."
"Disgusting…"
He laughed.
"Now darling, how about we pick your room?"
"I don't care what it looks like, so long as it's away from your creepy arse," she rolled her eyes.
He laughed again, "As you wish, my lady."
"Ugh."
"I could drop you now, you know. Just like…" he then pretended to let go of her, just a smidge, "...this." At the sudden feeling of fear and adrenaline, Hermione latched her arms around his neck tightly and dug her face against his neck. Her heartbeat was skyrocketing and she felt like punching him in his perfect, straight teeth.
"You are such an arse," she mumbled against his neck, her voice slightly muffled. Her hot breath tickling the sensitive spot behind his earlobe and his eyes rolled back into his head at the slight pleasure he received from her small act.
Bloody hell, she's gonna kill me.
He laid her on the king sized bed of the bedroom that he chose for her and her dress draped over and pooled around the edge of the bed. Her eyes were fluttering shut, her breaths deepening. He stared at her, taking in the absolute angelic presence she brought on. Her blood-red, slightly pouted lips, the little curve of her nose, her pale, milky white face dotted with freckles, and her long, dark lashes brushing against the tops of her cheeks. It was now when Draco realized that she was wearing minimal makeup on her face, except for some red lipstick and a thin coat of mascara.
She is so bloody beautiful, he thought to himself.
Especially in that tasteful dress that brought out her shapely curves, her long, slightly toned but mostly thin arms that were covered in lace, and his wedding band which lay around her dainty ring finger.
He felt a slight tightening around his navel. Lust clouded his senses and he had the greatest urge to just take her right there in her half-dozed state. But no, he was a man of virtue, bound by his lady, to his lady. He would not engage in such activity unless she was willing and fully alert. Now she could pass as a drunk woman on a hangover. No, he would not take advantage over her like this. Even though his lesser half just…wanted…a…peek behind her skirts.
Damn you, hormones.
He stared at her for what seemed like an eternity, studying the geography of her body, her skin, her face. Anywhere where he could get his eyes on. Until she stirred, and he was brought back to reality from his reverie.
"…my…head…"
He leaned towards her, and when that didn't work he kneeled next to her bedside and clasped her hand in between his. "What was that, love?"
"…head…hurts…"
His eyes widened in worry and he quickly stood up, "Wizzel!"
With a resounding crack a stuttering little house-elf appeared before him, "Y-yes? Master Draco requires Wizzel's assistance?"
He nodded curtly, "Get Mistress Malfoy a pain reducing potion. She's gotten a massive migraine."
"Yes, s-sir. Wizzel will be here in just a second," and with another crack the elf was gone.
Draco peered down to look at his flushed bride and, with unbridled ecstasy, sat himself down next to her sleeping form, running his hands down her arm more intimately than she'd probably ever allow. He inhaled her sweet scent, letting it get absorbed into his senses. He just had this urge to pin her underneath him and snog her senseless, but with yet another crack the house-elf reappeared.
"H-here y-you go, Master," Said Wizzel, who graciously held out small, shaking hands before her master, in which lie a little vial of a midnight blue liquid. He nodded to the elf and she disappeared once more.
He strode towards Hermione again, unstoppering the flask and bringing it to her lips; he lifted her head slightly and her brows fused into an annoyed expression- annoyed and discomforted. And instantly the creases of her brows faded, and she looked relaxed for the first time since the day started.
The only problem was that she was asleep.
In her dress.
Her wedding dress.
Which was bloody heavy and long and, though it was soft and made of the finest material, looked like a menace to sleep in. he drew out his wand and waved it, transfiguring her dress into one of his long-sleeved t-shirts with the Slytherin crest, and a pair of green silk pajamas made to fit her. He stepped back and admired his work, for she looked mighty fine in emerald green, and in his shirt.
He smirked again.
He pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead and placed her wand quietly on the side table. Pulling the covers over her small frame, he smiled again and then dimmed the lights with his wand.
Making his way towards the door so that he could retire in his own room, he glanced back at his slumbering bride and grinned.
Oh this is going to be very fun.