The Price of Peace

By Marmalade Fever

Disclaimer: I do not own nor claim the Harry Potter series. No copyright infringement was intended. Don't hurt me.

The Great Hall felt large and lonesome that day. Sitting together at a center table were about fifty people. Their topic was grim.

"It has to be me," Harry declared solemnly, staring up and down the table at the array of sad faces. "I have the most influence of anyone on our side." His eyes rested for a moment on Ginny, who looked away quickly as if pained.

"I agree," another voice chimed in, nodding resolutely. "Harry is the obvious choice."

"No," Hermione interrupted. Harry and Ron turned to her, frowning deeply.

"Why's that?" Harry asked.

"Because," Hermione began, her throat burning, "there isn't a single girl on their side with enough influence to match you."

Harry frowned, his face creased. "What about…"

"Pansy?" Hermione asked. She let out a low guffaw. "No, Parkinson isn't nearly influential enough. We may all know who she is, but the rest of the wizarding community certainly don't," she said. She took a deep breath. "I, however, am well-known."

"Hermione, no!" Ron bellowed fiercely. "You are most definitely not doing this."

Hermione turned somber eyes on him. "Who then? Can you think of a single other female, on either side, who is?"

"Well," Ron started, "there's… there's McGonagall!"

Hermione shook her head, as did Harry. "She wouldn't do, Ron. Bless her heart, but she isn't the right sort of person for this. Besides, who's on their side that we could successfully pair her up with, hmm?"

"She is getting up in years," Harry added.

"I…" Ron began. "You're right. As always. I'd say Bellatrix Lestrange," he shuddered, "but she's married already."

"Don't you see?" Hermione asked, feeling pinpricks against her eyes. "I'm the only one. Everyone knows who I am… knows my position… and there's plenty of influential men on their side."

"But, Hermione," Ron protested again, "you know who they'd be likely to set you up with, don't you? You can't seriously be willing for that to happen."

The tears were leaking from her eyes now. "It's the price of peace, Ron. If I have to m-marry Draco Malfoy, so be it."

Harry hesitated. "All in favor?" he asked loudly.

Unanimously, everyone in the room said, "Aye."

"Then it's agreed," Harry said. "Hermione is our candidate. We'll owl the Dark Side with our answer. When they get back to us we'll… we'll have the wedding." His voice dropped low, but his eyes lingered on Ginny again, who, despite her sympathy for Hermione, was infinitely glad that Harry hadn't been chosen after all.

…

In a meeting place far away, members of the dark community gathered. Torches lit the night as they waited in trepidation. Draco looked at his hands. His gut feeling foretold the news that a snowy white owl brought to them. Lucius Malfoy caught the bird in his hands and with trembling fingers removed the letter. "They have chosen for their candidate… the mudblood Hermione Granger." Draco's stomach dropped even lower. Although most of them had been expecting to hear Harry Potter's name announced, Draco had not. He'd been expecting this, for there was really no one on either side to play the role of the bride except for her. "Therefore," Lucius continued, "we will need someone of equal importance and of the same age for our own candidate." The elder man looked about the room and his eyes settled on his son's.

"There's no need to keep searching, Father," Draco said in his crisp tone. "I'm the only one."

Lucius hesitated. "All in favor?" he bellowed, tearing his eyes from his child's. One hundred hands rose into the air. "Then it's settled," he said disdainfully. "My son, Draco Malfoy, shall wed Hermione Granger, in an effort to unite our two fronts once and for all." There was a murmur of understanding.

…

It was a foggy day in September when a great portion of the wizarding community gathered in a small church to witness the marriage of the century. Despite the general feeling of ill among the attendees, a large amount of care had been put into the ceremony, its grandeur unrivaled by any wedding thus far on record. Draco stood motionless beside the altar, knowing his duty. It was only once the music began and his eyes caught a solitary figure decked in white that he allowed himself to let loose an unsteady breath. Although her face was shadowed by a veil, he could tell that she was beautiful. She walked in a fluid motion, her many skirts swaying in time to the music. Her small, gloved hands were clasped around a bouquet of white amaryllis. After a long minute, she came to a halt beside him, her face determinedly forward and facing the aged Justice of the Peace.

The old man began his speech, but Draco wasn't listening. This whole day was too surreal. He was about to wed a girl he had spent several long years tormenting due to her blood's impurity. He caught her sneak a glance at him, but a second later she was staring back at the man before them again. "This bond shall not be broken by the will of man, for much is at stake than cannot be put asunder. Therefore we call upon the will of the ancient magic to bind these two people, so that they may be role models for us all." The man trailed his wand in a circle around them and Draco's breath hitched. It was as if an invisible cord had just been extended from his navel to hers, but a second later all he could feel was a hollow spot behind his belly button. "We ask that you extend your hands and place the palms against one another," the man continued. They did as they were instructed. "United by thy hands to one another, so may you be in your life. May you live together in unity." He cleared his throat. "We ask that you place your left hands palm to palm so that your ring fingers are aligned. With this ring," he said, holding a large white gold band aloft, "you are man and wife." He slid the single ring down over their fingers and Draco felt his knuckle burning with the intensity of the binding. "Repeat after me, Draco Malfoy. With this ring, I thee wed."

Draco licked the roof of his mouth. "With this ring, I thee wed."

"You who are mine enemy shall be my wife, forever 'til the grave drives us apart." Draco repeated, speaking as clearly as possible.

"Repeat after me, Hermione Granger. With this ring, I thee wed."

Her voice came steadily in a honeyed tone. "With this ring, I thee wed."

"You who are mine enemy shall be my husband, forever 'til the grave drive us apart." She too repeated the man's words, staring steadily at their joined fingers.

"Pull away," the man instructed, and they did, their single band forming into two. "By the power invested in me by the magic of old, you are husband and wife. May the heavens bless you. You may kiss your bride," he added to Draco.

Draco slowly lifted her veil to reveal her frightened doe eyes of brown. They spent a moment sizing one another up, before he carefully cupped her chin in one hand and pulled her to him. He had not been planning on kissing her any longer than he would kiss his mother on the cheek, but her hand latched onto his wrist and he felt as if she might fall if he didn't hold onto her. Her lips were delicate beneath his own and he very carefully drew them apart again. There was only polite applause from the audience, but it wasn't as if the couple felt any more joy about the union than they. He held her hand gently in his own as he led them down the aisle.

…

He helped her into the carriage in silence and she sat down, facing the window. He surveyed her out of the corner of his eye, not so coolly as he would have preferred. With a mild jolt, the carriage began moving forward down the street, taking them to the reception hall. He felt queasy and there was a slight taste of bile at the back of his throat. Merlin help them both. He closed his eyes and placed his cold hands over them, attempting to soothe his irritated lids. He could hear her drawing in a haggard breath.

"So," she said softly, so softly that it was barely audible over the fuzzy feeling that now lined his brain. He removed his hands and faced her, but her face was still toward the window.

"So," he agreed, staring at the back of her head. Her hair was carefully clipped up by silver rosette barrettes, and a few silky brown curls were escaping. Just below, her long milky neck had goose bumps across it. She was rubbing her hands gently up and down her arms, though it was in no way cold. At least, he didn't think it was. His temperature might have been slightly elevated because of the abnormal situation, but perhaps hers was just the opposite for the same reason. Very slowly, she turned her head to face him.

"This is going to be," she looked like she was about to choke or vomit or something, "difficult."

"Very," he agreed. "Marriage always is, I suppose."

She laughed, a soft dry laugh. "And in the best of circumstances at that," she said, turning to face out the window again. "Draco," she added as an afterthought.

"Why…" he began, his voice slowly dying as his throat constricted painfully.

She shrugged. "There's no sense sticking to surnames, not when they're now the same," she said in a melancholy voice.

"True, that," he remarked. "Hermione," he added. Her name seemed so foreign to his already dry and suffering tongue.

"Malfoy," she hesitated, already seemingly forgotten their unofficial pact, "there's, there's something I need to ask you." She twisted her hands in her lap, bunching up a bit of her white gown in her gloved hands.

"Yes?" he asked, growing suddenly and acutely nervous.

"I… I've always wanted…" she swallowed painfully, and turned her eyes to his. He could see that there was a fair amount of build-up of tears in her eyes, just bordering on spilling. "To…" Her voice died out. "Never mind," she said, running a hand briefly across her eyelids.

Draco, against his better judgment, reached out a hand and placed it on her knee. "It's all right. Go on."

There was a very steady stream of tears falling down her face now. "To have a baby," she finished, her voice hoarse. Draco felt the blood rise to his face.

"I…" he said slowly, "I kind of need an heir, too," he said. She took in a shattering breath. "We'll get through this, Granger. I know we will," he said, speaking of the bigger picture: marriage. She nodded.

"I know," she squeaked, patting her eyes with a handkerchief. "The price of peace," she muttered, staring out the window again.

Draco took her hand in his own and gave it a squeeze. "The price of peace," he agreed. He managed to draw a very small smile from her.

"It had better be bloody worth it," she said, her voice unsteady.

He allowed a very small smile to grace his features. "Somehow, Mrs. Malfoy, I think it will." He kissed her gently on the forehead and offered a hand out of the carriage, a simple gesture that would symbolize the rest of their lives.

THE END

A.N.: I know you're devastated that this is a one-shot and all. You'll get over it. (Pats readers on the head.) Virtual cookies to all reviewers!