A/N: This story was once on HPFF under my account username FutureAggie09, but I had to remove it due to their stringent site rules that do not allow any depictions of spousal abuse. I received several requests to post it elsewhere, so I decided to post it here. The story is already completed and will consist of seven chapters. Thank you for reading!

Trophy Wife

You don't know what you've got til it's gone. Hermione recalled the old muggle song dismally as she scrubbed the counter with a vengeance. Ever since she had been exposed to magic at age eleven, she had loved it. Now, she scraped furiously at a particularly stubborn bit of tomato sauce with her muggle sponge. Dried tomato sauce was the worst; once it dried on the counter, it was nearly impossible to get it off. With magic, of course, it would be a simple matter of using "Scourgify," but magic was a luxury that the young woman was rarely permitted to use.

A small noise at the other end of the kitchen made her jump and turn around.

"Merlin," swore a man's deep baritone voice. "A bit jumpy, woman?"

Hermione saw her husband, Rhys Morenci, facing her. She knew better than to respond; a fading bruise on her side was a vivid reminder of the last time she had risen to his taunts.

Rhys was dressed in an expensive gray suit and holding his leather briefcase; he was clearly ready for a day of work, Hermione noticed with relief. She returned her attention to the counter, her faded blue sponge working once more at the obstinate stain. Perhaps if she remained quiet, Rhys would leave for work.

Light footsteps clicked on the tile as Rhys approached. Hermione stiffened, her eyes on the counter. A hand collided hard with the side of her face. Hermione cried out with surprise.

"Look at me when I am speaking to you," Rhys growled, gripping her chin in a perfectly-manicured hand.
Hermione's startled brown eyes met her husband's angry green ones. The tall, thin man glared down at her, his short, dark brown hair perfectly combed back. A brief smile crossed his lips as Hermione flinched instinctively at his touch. "I'm having several prospective customers over for dinner tonight," he continued, coffee in his breath as it wafted softly over her face. "If this goes well, it will mean several million Galleons added to the business." His excited expression turned imposing and almost threatening. Hermione sensed the change and waited with bated breath, her face immobile in his grip. "I wish you to make a good impression, so I'll give you your wand back. This house had better be clean by the time I get back." He released her chin and took a step back, looking her up and down. Disgust was present in every corner of his face as he took in the sight of her messy ponytail and loose pants. "And for Merlin's sake, try and clean yourself up."

Hermione hid her pain at his comment and nodded. She managed to keep her composure while Rhys fetched her wand and left for work.

It was then that the tears came.

When Hermione had married Rhys nine months ago, she thought that the wealthy wizard had loved her. He courted her gallantly and the brilliant witch soon found herself captivated by him. Soon after their marriage, however, she realized that she was his trophy wife, needed only to appear at social occasions and to keep the mansion relatively clean. Her wand was confiscated, given to her only when Rhys saw fit.

Her friendship with Harry and Ron had dwindled, since she couldn't send any letters without Rhys reading them—A charm on the house prevented her from leaving the grounds without Rhys.
Any time she asked to visit her friends, Rhys would fly into a rage, asking if she was cheating on him. Only once had Harry and Ron come over to the mansion for a visit. The visit was never repeated. After her friends left, Rhys had beaten Hermione badly. Hermione told no one about the attack, though she spent the night in St. Mungo's. The official story was that she had fallen—Ron and Harry suspected otherwise, they were unable to speak to Hermione at a time when Rhys wasn't around.

Rhys had changed from the sweet man he had been while they were dating to a controlling, sadistic man who frightened her. Hermione wiped her eyes abruptly, cutting off the pity party. She had things to do to get ready for that night; if she wasn't ready for Rhys and his guests when they arrived that evening, she shuddered to think of what would happen.

"Welcome to our home," Hermione said, smiling beautifully as she held open the heavy mahogany door for her husband and his dinner guests.

Rhys paraded in first, his chest thrust out like an overconfident peacock. As he passed Hermione, he covertly snatched her wand out of her hand. His guests followed: a plump, white-haired man who slightly resembled Santa Claus, a lean, blonde young man, a burly black-haired man, and a pristine man who had balding brown hair. Accustomed to dinner business meetings such as this, the men handed their cloaks to her without even looking at her.

Hermione took her time hanging up their cloaks neatly in the cloak room. Then she joined the group in the living room. The five men had already seated themselves in the luxurious furniture that graced the room. At seeing her, Rhys stood up from his chair and came over to her. In full view of the guests, or perhaps because of it, he kissed her lightly on the lips. "You look lovely," he murmured, just loud enough for the others to hear. As a possession, Hermione's beauty was to be fully appreciated by the guests.

Hermione smiled uncertainly in response. She was wearing a deep blue dress that clung to her body and emphasized her pleasing attributes. Her brunette hair was pinned up, leaving several soft curls to float gently around her face. The only jewelry she wore was her sparkling diamond wedding ring and a sapphire pendant that had been a gift to her from Harry.

Rhys stepped away from her and rejoined his guests, who were politely waiting for him to begin introductions. Hermione sat beside her husband on the silk couch, feeling the eyes of the other men upon her. She did her best not to show her nervousness by fidgeting. Rhys was older than her by seven years. While business came naturally to him, the twenty-one-year-old Hermione lacked the experience and patience necessary to enjoy a business dinner party like this one.

"Gentlemen, this is my wife, Hermione," Rhys said to the room, his hand resting on Hermione's bare shoulder. The men all gazed at her politely. "Hermione, this is Chase Harding," he said pointing to the balding man, who smiled and nodded. Rhys pointed next to the white-haired man and the black haired man in succession. "Hans Grant and Roald Cyrus." Roald Cyrus gave her an appraising look, his dark eyes inscrutable. Rhys gestured to the last man, the young blonde. "And Draco Malfoy."

Hermione stiffened, looking at the blonde with undisguised shock. Draco Malfoy?

"Hermione?" Rhys noticed her expression and pinched her side hard, out of sight of the guests. His fingers closed directly on the bruise he had left earlier in the week, causing Hermione to wince in pain.

"Pleased to meet you all," she said a bit belatedly, but her charming smile made the older men forget that. Draco Malfoy's face was cool and expressionless—if he recognized her, he gave no sign. "I'll just go and get the wine," she said, her face flushed. She glanced at Rhys for permission, which he gave with a subtle nod.

Hermione headed for the kitchen. Once out of sight of the guests, she leaned against the refrigerator, breathing deeply. She didn't know why she was so shocked to see Malfoy here; everyone knew that Lucius Malfoy had spent the time after Voldemort's defeat building up his business until it was a multi-billion Galleon success. It shouldn't have been that much of a surprise that his son had taken over after his schooling was complete. Still, it was quite a shock to see him there for the first time since Hogwarts. To have to play the part of Rhys's trophy wife was a horror in and of itself. Still, it seemed that he hadn't recognized her—perhaps he had expected her to marry Ron, as had most of the wizarding world.

Before Rhys could get upset with her for dawdling, Hermione managed to recover ; she left the kitchen, carrying a tray with a bottle of ruby-red wine and six wine glasses.

The men were deep in conversation about stock numbers and business profits, but the conversation halted when she returned.

"1977, a great year for wine!" chortled Hans, seeing the date on the bottle of red wine that Hermione was pouring.

Rhys was watching Hermione's every move carefully, and she knew that any mistake she made would be brought up after the other men left. She moved gracefully from one man to the next, filling their glass with the expensive wine. Roald Cyrus continued to focus his gaze on her, which made her extremely uncomfortable.

Hermione made her way around the circle of guests, ending with Draco Malfoy. He looked up at her coolly as she tilted the wine bottle over his glass.

He looked very much the same as he had when she had last seen him, at their graduation ceremony three years ago. The only thing different now was the absence of his customary smirk or superior expression. Malfoy simply gazed at her with polite interest. Like the other dinner guests, he was wearing formal robes, though rather than being plain, his were embellished with gold trim along the seams—the initials DMwere embroidered over his heart.

Hermione didn't realize that she hadn't been paying attention to the pouring of the wine until Malfoy reached up and grabbed her wrist; the glass had begun to overflow. Red wine spilled over onto his hand and the coffee table.

"Hermione, dear, watch it!" Rhys cried, leaping up. The "dear" in his exclamation was forced, a clear attempt to disguise his instant rage at her slip-up.

Hermione quickly set down the bottle of wine, her face flushed and eyes wide with horror. "I am so sorry, Mr. Malfoy!" she apologized quickly, running to the kitchen to get a rag.

From inside the kitchen, she heard Malfoy saying quietly to Rhys, "Where may I wash my hands, Mr. Morenci?"

Hermione rummaged in a drawer for a cloth with which to clean off the table. A hand grabbed her roughly by the shoulder and spun her around, shoving her back against the counter.

"You stupid, clumsy ox!" Rhys hissed in an undertone. "You have no idea what I'm going to do to you once they leave."

Hermione flinched as he dug his fingers into her skin. "Rhys, I didn't mean—"

"You'd just better hope that I make this business deal tonight," he growled, "or it will be much worse for you."

Hermione stared back at him, her eyes brimming with tears and her face quite pale.

"And don't bother trying to clean it up the muggle way, you idiot. How would that look? I'll handle it with magic." Rhys released her with one last rough jerk and headed back into the living room.

Hermione wiped her sweaty hands on a hand towel and tried to control her shaking. Several tears managed to escape her eyes, but were brushed away quickly. She took several deep breaths and started to leave the kitchen when a gentle hand rested on her arm. She looked up, startled, to see grey eyes looking down upon her.

"Are you all right?" Draco Malfoy asked her, his eyes searching hers.

"I'm perfectly all right, thank you," Hermione replied scathingly, ashamed and scared that he had seen some or all of the previous scene.

At hearing her angry tone, Malfoy released her immediately without another word and continued past her into the living room.

"I do hope that your robes were not damaged in any way, Draco," Rhys was saying as Hermione walked back into the room. The coffee table was once again spotless.

"No, not at all," Malfoy answered.

"My wife is young and unused to living in high society," said Rhys, trying to detract attention from Hermione's actions by making his guests laugh.

It had the desired effect; Hans laughed richly, though not mockingly.

"It's fine," Malfoy replied, a touch of annoyance creeping into his tone.

Rhys took the hint and began to speak to his guests about the benefits of his product, which was a complex sort of device called "Insta-Message" that would enable each member of a company to send messages without using interdepartmental memos or owls. It worked on the same principle as the DA's golden Galleons that Hermione had invented years previous. The entire idea for Rhys's business had been Hermione's idea, and though Rhys had been rich on his own before they had met, no one could pretend that Hermione's idea hadn't at least quadrupled his fortune.

Rhys spoke all through dinner—which had been prepared by the house elf—and Hermione was grateful for the chance to simply focus on her food and ignore all else. Rhys's voice droned on and on as he worked to persuade his guests to purchase his items to use in their large companies. Having heard Rhys's argument a hundred times, Hermione pushed his voice out of her mind.

Over dessert (a decadent fruit cake), Hans, Roald, Chase, and Malfoy shared their thoughts about Rhys's chances of receiving large orders from their companies.

"I might be persuaded to purchase one for each member of my staff," mused Malfoy, taking a sip of wine. His grey eyes narrowed calculatingly. "But you'll have to come down on the price of each by a Sickle."

Rhys's face lit up—he was no poker player. He appeared to consider the proposal for a moment as his face flushed with exhilaration. He then tried to compose himself as he shook his head thoughtfully. "I can go down four Knuts per unit, but that's the best I can do."

Malfoy smirked, reading the man's face flawlessly. "Knock off ten Knuts and we have a deal."

"Agreed," Rhys said quickly, grinning from ear to ear.

Hermione chewed her piece of strawberry, trying not to grin at the way Rhys had caved to Malfoy's bargaining.

The other company heads made similar deals with Rhys, who looked happier by the minute. When it came time to leave, each of the dinner guests kissed Hermione's hand and politely said goodbye to her.
Malfoy gave her another one of those searching looks before he, too, made his exit. The door shut behind the last guest and Rhys sighed in relief.

"Luckily, your fuck-up didn't cost me any business," he said contentedly, loosening his tie as he headed for the bedroom.

Hermione followed him, hoping that his joy at making the deals he wanted would eclipse his anger at her spill earlier in the evening.

"I'm sorry, Rhys," she said humbly once they were in their bedroom. "I knew Draco Malfoy from when I was at school—we were classmates. I hadn't seen him in a while and it startled me."

"Yes, well, in the future, try to keep it to yourself, so we don't waste wine or ruin clothing and furniture."

"I will," she promised, sliding off her dress.

"Now, come here, my beautiful kitten," said Rhys, a greedy, lust-filled look coming into his eyes.
Hermione obediently crawled into bed and let him do what he wished with her. As she drifted to sleep afterwards, grey eyes haunted her dreams.