Chapter five

Disclaimer: Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

It was only early evening but Hermione was exhausted. She had originally intended on paying a visit to Harry and Ginny, but was so tired she could barely walk to the couch to lie down. She toed her pumps off and flopped down with the remote control and began channel surfing. She was glad the electricity had been restored while she was away. She'd had to use a bit of magic that morning just to get ready for her trip to the Ministry.

There were so many things to consider that she barely knew where to begin. Her head swan with the sheer onslaught of it. There were the obvious things like where she and Malfoy were going to live, how she was going to reverse the required Unbreakable Vow once this terrible law was overturned (and she was convinced it would be.) But the thing that irked Hermione the most that day, more than her required sexual contact with Malfoy, more than being forced to marry someone she barely tolerated, more than the complete lack of moral fortitude shown by her government, was how her best friend could betray her to complete creep like Malfoy. It was unbelievable. Ron had turned his back on them during the war, and even after they had patched things up and become engaged, he had revealed himself to her again and again. Ron's behavior had had even paved the way for a mantra of Hermione's; when someone shows you who they really are, believe them. In a way she had come to expect that sort of conduct from him, but not from Harry.

She would have to confront him. But she wanted to see Ginny too; it had been a long time since she had been in town, too long maybe. She noticed the changes within the Ministry almost immediately. Firstly, with the influx of activity with the Marriage Edict, the new departments that had been added were open seven days a week, and at all hours it seemed. There was also a harried energy, with an edge of something like panic that hovered in corridors, on the lift, in the cubicles of the employees. Almost every witch and wizard was tense and spoke in frantic whispers, even over mundane things like; like who didn't make the coffee that morning. This was not the wizarding world she had left behind. Everyone was scared and almost no one was unaffected by the Marriage Decree. She was almost afraid of what she would find in Diagon Alley the next day.

Muggle England seemed exactly the same though. The trees on her street were unchanged, children still rode their bikes rain or shine up and down the sidewalk, the Widow Harlow still raised her cane to mailmen and teenagers alike. The school bus still stopped at Ritters Ave every morning at seven to collect the elementary children. Her little neighborhood was so similar to the way it was when she was a child, she felt like crying. The only thing that was different, as far as she could tell, was the Granger's empty house. She ached to see her parents, but she felt strange around them now. Things were different after they relocated to Australia. She wasn't sure they forgave her for what she did to them, and didn't think they knew the severity of the situation, which forced her to take measures to keep them safe. To understand the threat Voldemort imposed on the world, you had to see it, and that she couldn't allow for her mother and father.

She definitely couldn't tell them about Draco and their fraud of a marriage. They weren't even having a proper wedding; Hermione couldn't bear to make a mockery of their situation. But her mother would never understand why she couldn't plan the wedding of her only daughter. Hermione and Draco would make the Unbreakable Vow, as was required, at the Ministry in the Registrar's office, but there would be no ceremony. No white dress, no cake, no champagne toasts, nothing traditional, and nothing that would indicate they should celebrate.

Sometime after nine that night, and a half a bottle of wine, Hermione stumbled up the stairs and slept in the guest bed. She couldn't bear to sleep in the twin bed she used to inhabit during summers and Christmas break. She fell into a restless sleep and dreamt of her time at Hogwart's. It started out as a nice dream of her time in class and the common room with Harry, Ginny, Ron, and the twins. A prefect, for testing their products on first and second years, was telling off the twins, and Harry was goading her into helping him with his history of magic essay. It was light and relaxing, the way it used to be. At some point during the dream Ron and her were on the Astronomy Tower. Hermione's breathing came in quick bursts and her heartbeat quickened when he leaned in to kiss her. But when they broke apart it was Draco, and he turned his wand on her and she stumbled backwards and over the edge. She woke up sweating and breathing hard before she hit the ground where Dumbledore had met his end.

It took her several seconds to realize where she was. She couldn't hear the sea and rain was beating against the window pain. She wasn't in Ikaria anymore, but back in England. Gone were her sunny days spent reading at the beach, gone was her freedom and the anonymity Greece offered her. The reality hit her hard and she lay back down on the comforter. Her head always ached after drinking wine, and this morning was no exception. It was only half past seven, but Hermione couldn't fall back asleep so she took a bath instead and got dressed. She needed to go to Diagon Alley today, and she needed to pay a visit to Harry.

She washed her hair and face and brushed her teeth so thoroughly her gums bled before she left. It was still raining and cold in Diagon alley. Hermione was forced to run from the portal at the Leaky Cauldron to her destination, Madam Malkin's. She had packed away most of her winter things in parent's garage and didn't have the energy to sift through mountain of boxes to find them. Anyway, she didn't want what was in those boxes. It reminded her too much of her old life, she also tried to refrain from using too much magic in her muggle neighborhood, which would be necessary to attack the boxes without help. She wished she had asked Ginny to come, but she was eight months pregnant and probably too uncomfortable to traipse through Diagon Alley in the rain.

She was surprise to see how transformed Madam Malkin's was. Once a shop that contained a variety of dress and casual witch and wazarding clothing, it was now chalked full of white satin gowns and billowing black dress robes, which she took to be a wizard's version of a tuxedo. Hermione stood in the doorway in shock. It was still early enough that it wasn't yet flooded with other women looking for wedding gowns, for which she was glad. Madam Malkin appeared on the other side of the curtain that led to the storeroom, smiling cheerily. Hermione felt an irrational stab of irritation. This law was probably the best thing that had ever happened for her business.

"Miss Granger!" she exclaimed, resting an armful of dress boxes on the counter. "What an utter delight!"

"Hullo," Hermione muttered nervously. She was starting to regret her laziness for not rummaging through the garage after all. Now she was worried that she would be questioned about her position on the law and how it is affecting her. She wasn't ready to tell people about her and Malfoy.

"How are you, my dear? Looking for something in particular? Perhaps a wedding gown?" She winked and pulled her enchanted tape measurer from her apron.

"No," Hermione said fretfully, her voice an octave too high. "No, I um, I'm just in for a cloak."

"Oh," Madam Malkin said, crestfallen. "Are you exempt from the Edict then? I would have loved to dress a war hero," she said wistfully.

"Well," Hermione began. "I'm not exempt, but-"

Madam Malkin's face lit up again.

"You don't already have a gown, do you?"

"I'm not wearing a gown," she said firmly.

"Are you sure dear?" she asked. "Did you see the silk or the organza? I'm sure we could find something beautiful for you to wear. This is the most important day of your life, after all."

Hermione scoffed at the term "important," the most dreadful day of her life might be more appropriate.

"Absolutely not," she said flatly. "But maybe I should wear a suit though . . ." she murmured to herself, looking around hopefully.

Madam Malkin harrumphed and led her back to a corner of the store wear she kept the business wear. Hermione sifted through it, but didn't find anything she deemed suitable. She couldn't possibly wear one of those gowns that crowded the front of the shop. They were beautiful, naturally, but wearing such a thing would be a joke considering her circumstances. This wasn't a wedding, she could barely stomach the thought, it was a legal contract . . .. That required sex. She pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Anything I can hem for you dear?" Floated Madam Malkin's voice.

"Not today," she said glumly.

She would venture into muggle London to look for something practical, but elegant. She didn't dare go to Twilfit and Tattings for fear of being recognized and asked all sorts of prying questions. It was too bad she would have to miss an outing to Flourish and Blott's.

Draco spent the day looking at the Property in Bath and hiring a groundskeeper for the Manor. The Bath property was more of a cottage compared to the Manor, but generously proportioned and chic in its own right. It was only one story, sprawling, and had floor to ceiling windows in several rooms. There was enough space for them to escape each other's company easily and library for Granger to get lost in, and hopefully never reemerge. It was perfect.

He considered sending an owl to Granger, but they had a week from tomorrow to sort out their living arrangements. In any case, she was probably giving Potter an earful right about now. The thought made Draco smirk. Technically he owed his life to Potter, but the idea of his discomfort at being relentlessly harangued by Granger gave him the warm fuzzies. The Chosen One was still the self-righteous prick he was at Hogwart's, after all.

Blaise was waiting at the Twig and Pitch, a Qidditch pub on the outskirts of Diagon Alley, late in the afternoon. He was the only friend Draco could claim, and they only corresponded twice a year. The Twig and Pitch was quiet as Draco entered. Most of their clientele didn't arrive until after were several tables still pushed against the wall and the Quaffles that normally zoomed overhead were suspended over them in a state of stasis. Blaise was in a booth and looked like Draco felt.

"Draco, you old dog" he said raising his drink to him. "I never thought I'd see you back here! This can only mean one thing: you got your letter then?"

Draco sat down heavily in the booth, nodding edgily.

"Well?" his friend asked. "Who is the lucky lady then?"

Draco surveyed him skeptically. Blaise would tease him mercilessly when he found out, but he didn't really see any way in keeping it a secret. It would be all over the papers in a matter of a few days, if it weren't already.

"Granger," he stated through clenched teeth.

"Who?" he asked, confused.

"Granger," he hissed. "Hermione Granger."

"Oh come on, Draco." He said. "You can tell me. It's not your fault if she's a troll, you didn't exactly get to pick, did you? Wait, is she a troll?"

"I'm telling you the truth," he said irritably. "I'm marrying Hermione Granger. Tomorrow."

Blaise's eyebrows threatened to disappear in his hairline.

"No," he said, dumbstruck. "You're not serious. Don't have me on like that Draco," he said with a barking laugh. "Can you imagine if that were true?" More laughter. "It would be a disaster! The press would hound you for-"

"Shut it Blaise!" he finally snapped. "Do you think I don't know that press is going to have a field day with this!"

Blaise stopped laughing almost instantly.

"Blimey," he said into his drink. "You're not joking."

Draco said nothing, which obviously confirmed Blaise's question, for he started laughing again. It started out a chuckle and then morphed into a heaving laughter. This time he pounded his fist on the wooden table top, tears threatening to escape his eyes.

"Potter's mudblood friend!" he exclaimed. "Oh, poetic equality!"

Draco was supremely irritated.

Blaise continued laughing so loudly that the waitress leaned out of the kitchen curiously.

"Are you finished yet?" he hissed at his friend.

Blaise wiped tears of mirth from his eyes before sobering up.

"Ah, Draco." He said, obviously trying to contain himself. "Well, it could be worse I suppose. It could have Millicent," he mock-shuddered. "I understand some poor bloke was actually thrown in the clink for refusing to take her on. Can you imagine?"

"I assume you don't have yours yet?"

"No," Blaise took a sip of a red drink with a celery stalk sticking out of it. "But it's only a matter of time, and by then all of the pretty ones will be taken. Heaven hope Millicent is snatched up by then."

"Her younger sister was on my list," Draco admitted.

"Ughh," Blaise said, making a gagging sound. "Well at least Granger is decent looking. Gotten any action from her yet?"

"What do you think?" Draco mumbled ruefully. "I half expected her to incinerate me on sight."

"Well do let me know how it goes," Blaise mused. "I used to fantasize about bending her over in the stacks."

"You're a pig, Blaise. A mudblood?"

"Hey mate, just being honest; Hermione Granger is a little treat. But you're the one marrying her," he said with a wink.

X X X X X X X X X X X X

Number Twelve Grimuald Place had undergone some necessary remodeling since Hermione had last been there. The portrait of Mrs. Black had apparently been incinerated by a lucky shot of one of the George's newest inventions, to the immense relief of Harry and Ginny. Appearantly Kreature was still sore about his Mistress's painting being set aflame though. The foyer looked more homey than Hermione had ever seen it though.

"Can Kreature take Miss Mud- Granger's cloak?"

"Hermione!" Ginny came waddling down the stairs, supporting her lower back with one hand and clutching the banister with a radiant smile. "I can't believe you're in town! You could have given me more notice, I would have made up a room for you so you don't have to stay in that empty house!"

Hermione gave her an awkward hug to accommodate her swelling abdomen.

"Tea Kreature," she said pointedly at the elf. "He's such a miserable little git," she said under her breath.

Hermione's natural instinct was to launch into her pitch for elf rights and the conditions under witch they were bred for the benefits of wizards, but kept her opinions to herself. Ginny was heavily pregnant and most likely largely governed by her hormones. Anyway, Hermione was too tired to defend house elves, and Ginny was right; Kreature was sort of a miserable git.

"Take your cloak off and stay awhile, you're soaked!" she beamed.

Hermione did as she bid and followed her into the drawing room. The horrible moth eaten curtains she remembered were gone and in there place were lace curtains that she thought she recognized from the Burrow. The Black Family tapestry was also gone, and in its place was a family tree that included the Weasley's, the Potter's, the Lovegood's and the Peverell's and how they were all interconnected. Hermione was sure it cost a chunk of gold to have made.

"That's brilliant," she said. "How did you get the Black Family Tree down? I thought there was a permanent sticking charm attached to it."

"There was," Ginny said, flopping down on the sofa. "I think Dad actually managed to get it down with George's help. I don't know how they did it, but I'm not complaining either. It was an awful sight when we had company."

Kreature brought in the tea and left quickly, mumbling something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "dirty." Ginny glared at his retreating back and looked as if she were going to call him out, but Hermione chose to tactfully change the subject.

"Where's Harry?" she asked. "At the Ministry?"

"No, he's in Germany on a mission," Ginny said. "It's all supposed to be very hush hush," she winked. "I expect him back tonight."

"Ah, I see," Hermione said, looking around.

She had been prepared to call Harry out as the shittiest friend in all of history, but not to malign him to his wife, even if it were justified. She felt slightly foolish and deflated now, and not sure how to broach the subject of her impending nuptials. She need not have worried though, be it heightened senses due to pregnancy or Molly Weasley's genes, Ginny was keen to this sort of thing.

"So what brings you to town?" she asked, sipping her orange tea. "Heard about that awful law?"

Hermione nodded silently, not making eye contact with her friend.

"NO!" Ginny said, aghast. "I can't believe it! They've summoned you, or you've been petitioned for?"

"The latter," Hermione sighed, resting her head in her hands.

"When? Who? I want to know EVERYTHING!"

"Tomorrow, at nine am," Hermione said, defeated. "I just can't believe they could do this? How long has this been going on?"

"Well," she began. "Apparently it's been being pushed in the Ministry for some time now, but the lid was blown off of it a few months ago. Seamus Finnigan is in Azkaban," she said soberly. "I guess he went instead of marrying a Slytherin girl that's still in school."

"It's affecting students?" Hermione asked, stunned. "They can't do that!"

Hermione was shocked. She never expected in her wildest imaginings that they would force student's to marry. It was beyond what they were doing to the adults, it was completely reprehensible.

"I wish I were," Ginny said. "I couldn't believe it either. Harry is trying to use his influence in the Ministry to get Seamus released, but he's never been very good with politics."

"Oh, Harry." She said fondly.

"So," Ginny said with a twinkle. "Tell me who you're marrying! Is it anyone we know?"

Hermione sighed heavily. This wouldn't go well, but she couldn't keep it a secret, she was marrying him tomorrow. Ginny would be hurt if she had to read it in the papers.

"Draco Malfoy," she said acidly.

Ginny looked bemusedly at her for a second, as though expecting her to correct what was obviously a joke. But when Hermione's face took on a pained expression Ginny's took on a look of horror.

"NO!" she gasped.

Hermione nodded ruefully.

"NO!" she repeated. "I don't believe it! Oh Hermione, are you okay?"

Hermione threw her hands up half-heartedly into the air. Was she okay? She had barely asked herself such a question.

"Didn't you have any other offers?"

"Not that I'm aware of," she said. "But I've been abroad, so who knows? I suppose someone could have petitioned for me, and I would have never known about it."

"It should have been Charlie, or George, or even Percy" Ginny moaned. "Not Malfoy. They aren't attached yet."

"It doesn't matter," Hermione said resignedly. "It's done. We registered this morning and are set to marry tomorrow."

"Harry's going to have a fit," Ginny said, rubbing her belly with a look of discomfort. "Sorry, just a cramp," she explained.

"I'm sure," Hermione mumbled into her tea.

"What do you mean? My cramps?"

Hermione hesitated. She didn't come here to upset Ginny, but she was still so irked with Harry.

"No, nothing," Hermione said quickly. "You know how they never got on."

"Yeah," she said. "But his family had that ball, and they've even run into each other a couple of times before Malfoy's parents died, and they were civil to each other at least."

"Were they?" Hermione asked. "I didn't know."

"Yeah, they have a grudging respect for each other, or something like that. But," she added "that might be null and void once he finds out that he's marrying you."

Hermione would call Harry out in person, not tattle on him to his wife.

"How did they die? The Malfoy's, I mean," she said, changing the subject.

"It happened after you left for Greece," she said. "I'm not sure I can remember all of the specifics, Harry wasn't assigned to their case, but I think they were wacked off."

"Murdered?" she asked, a little alarmed. "By who?"

"I don't think they were ever caught," Ginny said, as she held her side again and winced. "But they think it was a Death Eater that the Malfoy's implicated and escaped capture. Maybe Greyback, who knows?"

"Wonderful," Hermione said. "There's a lunatic after the family that I'm about to marry into."

"You're a target on your own, and the brightest witch of your age," she said with a wink. "So tell me," she said solicitously. "Have you and Malfoy. . . ?"

"NO!" Hermione choked out on a sip of tea. "And I'm dreading it," she shivered.

Ginny looked thoughtful.

"I don't know," she said. "He's attractive enough, for a git."

Hermione was surprised; the only group of people Malfoy hated more than muggles and muggle borns were the Weasley's.

"That's not exactly enough to get me into bed," Hermione said dourly.

Hermione spent the rest of the afternoon explaining the legistics of the law, she had bee reading up on it on and off all day, and telling Ginny the nitty gritty about what was required of her and Draco in their "marriage." Even if Ginny had a lingering attraction to Malfoy, she was thoroughly disgusted by the requirements set upon her. Hermione then changed the subject to the baby, which Ginny was happy to talk about until Hermione felt dizzy.

Harry didn't come back while they were having tea, which was probably a good thing. Hermione didn't want to confront him tonight; she was exhausted from the last two days. So bushed that she left Number Twelve shortly after tea was done and promised to call again soon.

The house was dark when she came home, and it made Hermione's heart ache to feel so alone. At least with Malfoy she wouldn't have to come home to a dark lonely house. Well there's a bleak thought, she thought disgustedly.

She hung the clothes she had bought in Madam Malkin's and in muggle London to wear the next day, and collapsed on the bed with a pint of rocky road. An old movie, a musical, was playing on cable so Hermione settled for that and fell asleep thinking about the next day. Hermione felt the dreaded chill of foreboding and fell into another fitful sleep. Tomorrow she would marry Draco Malfoy; she would be forever called Mrs. Malfoy.