Chapter Text
The humid air made the hairs at the nape of Hermione’s neck still to her skin like glue. Her thoughts swirled as she walked down the cobblestone paths of Knockturn Alley. Just last night, she had given her engagement ring back to Ron. There was no point in prolonging the inevitable, she had realized. Their relationship was rocky, and they were always fighting. It was obvious they wanted different things from life. She wanted the freedom to throw herself into work, which was sometimes dangerous. Meanwhile Ron wanted to reach all the milestones like marriage, a house, and children. While she did want that too, she didn’t want it right now.
Her eyes watered as she continued to think about their breakup. The hardest part was seeing his face; it was like she had struck him with all her might. She might as well have with everything she had said. Her words were the final nail in the coffin, but she hoped they might free him too. He shouldn’t be stuck waiting for her. Their engagement had already been ongoing for two years. She realized she had only agreed to appease him. In fact, the thought of starting marriage preparations was nearly enough to send her into a tizzy.
It’s for the best. It had become her mantra in the weeks preceding the breakup. Her brain knew this, but the heart needed more convincing. Right now, it could only remember the good times: surprise dates, hectic Sunday dinners spent at the Burrow. It’s for the best. She repeated it a few more times as she walked into Borgin and Burke’s.
Not much had changed from her youth. It had been a decade since her last trip to the store when she was in eighth year. The decor was dark and dreary with cobwebs filling in the corners. Many different–and macabre–artifacts packed the store, giving her a narrow space to walk along.
While waiting for the clerk to get her order, she browsed the shelves. A glint of gold caught her eyes, and she discovered a dusty chest. It was likely some dark artifact that probably would do something horrible if she opened it. She brushed off some of the dust; surely an cursed would activate only upon opening.
She found herself on the ground with the clerk glaring above her, and golden shimmer hung in the air around her.
“You activate it, you buy it. A hundred galleons for everything.”
*****
Since the breakup Hermione had moved into Grimmauld Place with Harry and Ginny. It worked well since Ginny was away with training, so Harry wouldn’t be lonely. Hermione was reading on the well-loved couch in the living room when someone knocked at the door.
“Granger, or should I say Mrs. Malfoy? Long time no see,” he said upon seeing her.
Her brow furrowed. What was he on about? “What are you doing here, Malfoy?” She stepped aside to let him in, and he promptly took her seat on the couch. Resisting the urge to chastise him, she simply took a seat on a large wingback chair and stared at him. He had changed since she last saw him as a scrawny teenager. It was obvious life had been treating him well enough. The bony planes of his face had softened slightly as he grew into himself.
“Imagine my surprise when, as I’m working on a delicate potion, my mother starts screaming. I run to see what happened, and lo and behold, the family tapestry has you marked as my wife.. Strange since I haven’t seen you since my trial. What did you do?”
“That’s preposterous! I didn’t do anything. Do you really think I would marry you without your knowledge? Besides I don’t even know you. For all I know, you could be the same as you were in school!”
His reply was overshadowed by Harry coming back from work. The other man froze upon seeing Draco sitting on his couch. “What are you doing here, Draco?” Hermione noted the lack of surnames.
“Simply visiting my wife. We have much to plan for the future considering I only found out about it today.”
Harry gaped at him, “what do you mean wife? How?” He turned to Hermione, “you just called off your engagement yesterday! What did he do?”
Hermione groaned and rubbed her face with her hands. “I just wanted to cheer myself up by buying a rare book. I just had to go and touch that bloody box!” She trailed off into murmured curses about her luck, Knockturn Alley, and her own curiosity. With a spell, she summoned the box and handed it to Draco. “Here, I don’t want it. If it married me to you, then it probably comes from your family.”
Draco examined the box. He paled while looking it over, “I’ll have to do some more research. I suggest you think about what story you want to tell people. I doubt it’ll stay hidden for long. I need go. If you’d like to join me for research, you are free to apparate to the Manor. You’re now one of us. Congrats, Mrs. Malfoy my home and vaults are now open to your perusal. I’ll draft a marriage contract and send a draft to you.”
Without another word, he left. His abrupt exit made Hermione shake her head. She was still reeling from finding out she was married. Aside from the circumstances, it felt like nothing had changed.
“So,” Harry started with an overdrawn vowel, “how does it feel to be Mrs. Malfoy? Does this make you Lady Malfoy? What are you going to tell Ron? You know he’s going to take this badly.”
She just groaned, sinking into the plush cushions of the arm chair. She supposed she’d have to tell him eventually. Ideally, she would be able to break the curse and wouldn’t have to tell him. Then his insecurities wouldn’t lead to another fight. Maybe she’d be lucky.
************
She was, in fact, not lucky. It looked like all her luck was used up during the war, she thought as she stared at the Prophet in front of her. A picture of her and Draco stared up at her along with words of a secret marriage. She wanted to scream, but instead she chose to send an empty jar to Rita Skeeter. The other woman needed a reminder after the article she had just written.
Picking up the letter that greeted her with the Prophet, she decided to see if Malfoy was right. She apparated to Malfoy Manor, and was shocked when she realized it felt like home. It felt like coming home after a long day and snuggling under the blankets with Crookshanks. The manor couldn’t feel like home to her. It was impossible.
Draco found her in his study, panic coloring her face. She was pacing back and forth while saying no.
“Granger,” he said softly, walking up to her and placing a hand on her shoulder.
She looked up at him, shaking herself out of her daze. She showed him the Prophet and started ranting about Skeeter and the decay of good journalism.
“I accept your marriage contract. Why does it so highly favor me?”
He chuckled, “I think being cursed into marriage is enough punishment. I wanted to make things easier for you. It’ll help when you deal with other purebloods. Because of the freedoms I included, you will have more status. No one actually gives free reign of the vaults. It shows House Malfoy holds you in the highest esteem, cherishes you.”
She handed over the signed contract. It glowed briefly before Draco duplicated it, handing one copy to her and sending the other to file itself away in his desk.
“I have a request. Now that it’s in the papers, I suppose I’ll need to tell the Wesley’s and my other friends. Will you come with me to the Burrow on Sunday? I’ll simply tell them it was a curse. Any luck in figuring it out?”
“Yes I will accompany you, and no. All I can tell is my ancestor created this curse to bind a woman to the current Lord Malfoy. I suppose I’m glad you touched it now rather than a couple years ago otherwise you might’ve ended up with my father.”
“Is there a way to break the bond?” she asked. Her heart sank when he shook her head. It looked like Sunday was going to be awkward. Despite her obvious rejection, a part of her–the traitorous part of her–wondered if it was truly a bad thing. In terms of curses, she got off lightly. Most other curses would’ve just killed or maimed her. Things could’ve been worse. He could’ve been worse. At the very least, he was nice to look at. She’d have to be blind to notice he had become handsome, and she supposed there were worse fates.
"I haven't found any yet."
She should've known better to touch that chest. Why did she have to touch it?