It was an ungodly hour when suddenly, a soft but insistent knock broke the tranquility, rousing Hermione from her sleep. She stirred, blinking her eyes open and taking a moment to orient herself.
The knock came again, a bit louder this time, echoing through the quiet house.
"Just a minute," she called out groggily, pushing herself up and muttering a loud bloody hell. She grabbed her wand from the bedside table, muttering a quick " Lumos ".
She padded across the cold stone floor to the door while effing and blinding. Who could be knocking at this hour? She opened the door a crack, peering out into her cottage patio.
To her surprise, Draco Malfoy stood there, his usually immaculate appearance slightly disheveled. He saw him a few times a year at this point. Social gatherings, Ministry gala's, sometimes in the Leaky. Unfortunately he still looked handsome. He had no right to look that divine. Fuck him and his stupid face.
His expression was a mixture of urgency and hesitation, as if he wasn't quite sure he should be there.
"Hello Satan." she said, her voice filled with anger in a low whisper. "What are you doing here?"
Malfoy shifted uncomfortably, glancing around the patio before meeting her eyes.
" I need to talk to you, Granger. It's very important. For both of our sake."
She hesitated for a moment, then nodded and stepped aside, allowing him to enter. She closed the door behind him, turning to face him with a curious expression.
Malfoy stepped into the cottage, his tall form casting a shadow that seemed to swallow the warmth from the room. His gaze swept over her body covered in a blanket.
" What are you doing here so early?" she asked, her tone more serious now.
His silver eyes bore into hers, devoid of their usual arrogance. "Granger ," he said, his voice low and edged with bitterness. " I'm here to inform you that we are forced to get married by your beloved Ministry . "
Her breath caught in her throat. The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, like a prophecy foretold by the darkest of omens.
In that exact moment her life ended. Not Voldy, not Grayback, not Bellatrix. Lucius Jr. ended her life with one single sentence.
"Would you like a cuppa? she asked it with a monotone tone.
Perhaps she's still dreaming. The type of dream where you know it is a fucked up dream that you cannot belive it is real. But this was not a dream.It was more real that any of her nightmares.
"Thank you ? ." he said with a confused impression on his face.
"Black tea or Earl Gray?- She asked with a casual tone, like it was the most plain conversation that they needed to talk about right now.
"Black tea would be perfect, with 2 sugar and milk please " .- he said it with a literal shock in his voice. What the fuck is she about?! He just told her that they are going to be married involuntarily.
" I know Malfoy, we went to school together for quite some time if you recall. We had so many lovely interactions between us. We sat across from each other in the great hall for almost seven years. I know how you like your coffee and toast in the morning, which one is your favorite apple and how much disgust you look at me every time we accidentally make eye contact."- she said it with a numb voice while putting the kettle on.
This bitch in mental, that was the only thought in Malfoys head right now. He couldn't sleep last night, not after he opened the letter from the Ministry. The neat handwriting on the official parchment informed him of what felt like a death sentence: he was to be forced into marriage with none other than the biggest swot in England, the Golden girl, the Gryffindor princess—Hermione Granger. She had been his longtime person of interest during his solitary moments, the subject of his private fantasies. AKA shower wanks.
He sat in his darkened bedroom at his penthouse, the moon casting eerie shadows through the tall windows. The letter lay discarded on his bed, the words burning into his mind. Forced to marry Hermione Granger. The thought was absurd, infuriating, and strangely intriguing all at once.
His mind raced back to their years at Hogwarts. Hermione Granger, the girl with unruly curls and a penchant for being right about everything, had always been a thorn in his side. From their very first year, when she corrected his pronunciation of "Wingardium Leviosa," to their seventh, when their paths had taken separate, bitter turns. He had called her Mudblood, taunted her, and watched as she bested him time and time again in class and also being tortured on his drawing room floor. But there had always been something about her, something that sparked a begrudging admiration deep within him.
Draco scoffed at himself. Admiration? No, it was more than that. He had admired her intellect, her fierce loyalty to her friends, her unwavering determination to fight for what was right. And secretly, he had admired her beauty, the fire in her eyes when she argued passionately for her beliefs. And also fantasies about how her cunt would taste. It certainly smelled like his amortentia.
Yet, he never imagined this. Forced into a marriage with Hermione Granger. The Ministry's latest attempt at reconciliation, at fostering unity among the fractured wizarding world. And he was to be a pawn in their grand scheme.
Draco's thoughts drifted to the present. He clenched his fists in frustration. This was not the life he had envisioned for himself after the war. He had hoped to rebuild his family's reputation, to find his place in the world without the specter of his past haunting him in the daytime and causing terrible nightmares during the night.
But now, this. Marriage to Granger. The irony was not lost on him.
" I wanted to be the first person to inform you about this". he finally got himself together. " I would like to offer my condolences to you. I am sorry that your match is me".
She was quite aware of the Marriage act. She worked at the Ministry for six years now. Still besties with Kingsley and all. She heard the news, that day had a proper bitchfit while smashing the minister's office. That was a fun day.
Her brow furrowed slightly at his apology. This was not the reaction she had expected from Draco Malfoy, the boy who had once made her life miserable during their time at Hogwarts. He had never been one for apologies or sympathy. Yet, here he was, standing in her cottage, offering his condolences for a situation that was as much his burden as it was hers.
"Thank you," she replied, her voice steady but tinged with a hint of disbelief. "I appreciate your... whatever it was."
He nodded, his gaze momentarily faltering before he regained his composure. "This is not what either of us wanted," he added, his tone softer than usual.
She couldn't help but agree. The idea of being forced into marriage with Draco Malfoy, of all people, was absurd and infuriating. They had spent years on opposite sides of the war, their paths crossing only in moments of conflict or tension. The thought of spending the rest of her life with the man who watched her being tortured was almost inconceivable.
"I suppose we'll have to make the best of it, if not, I will be more than willing to go to Azkaban with your blood still on my hand" she finally said, her voice firm as she resigned herself to the reality of their situation.
Malfoy nodded again, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes. "Yes, I suppose we will, once again I am sorry that this law was forced upon us" he replied, his voice tinged with a hint of uncertainty.
Draco was scared of her most of his life to be honest. She could definitely kill him and he would let her. Anything to make up to her. Anything to make her happy.
There was a tense silence between them, the weight of their impending marriage hanging heavily in the air. They both knew that this was just the beginning of a long and uncertain journey, one that neither of them had asked for but were now forced to navigate together.
"Is there anything else?"she asked, breaking the silence with a hint of impatience.
Malfoy hesitated for a moment, as if debating whether to say more. Finally, he shook his head. "No, that's all," he said quietly.
The tension between him and she was palpable as they sat at the table, the weight of their forced marriage hanging heavy in the air. She led him out to the porch, where he looked defeated and properly pissed.
They stood amidst the beautiful roses in her garden, their petals vibrant and lush under the sunlight. Narcissa would be proud.
"You have beautiful roses in your garden," he noted, attempting to break the silence.
She nodded silently, her gaze fixed on the eight little stacks of stones placed among the roses.
"It is a graveyard for the memory of the people that I lost," she said in a whisper, her voice tinged with sorrow. She looked over at the stones, each marking the final resting place of those who had fallen in the war—Sirius Black, "Mad-Eye" Moody, Fred Weasley, Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks, Colin Creevey, and her own parents.
Roses in a graveyard?" Malfoy asked, his brow furrowing with curiosity.
She sighed, her shoulders slumping in weariness. "I wonder what they turn into," she said in a tired voice, her gaze drifting back to the roses.
He studied her quietly for a moment, his anger momentarily overshadowed by a flicker of sympathy. He knew loss too well, having seen the devastation wrought by the war firsthand. The idea of finding solace in a garden of roses amidst a graveyard was both poignant and haunting.
"I'm sorry," he finally said, his voice softer than before. "I didn't realize..."
She shook her head, a sad smile touching her lips. "I suppose that is alright, Malfoy, we all carry our burdens."
He nodded, unsure of what to say next. The silence stretched between them, broken only by the soft rustling of leaves in the summer breeze.
"They're symbols," she said suddenly, her voice breaking the silence. "The roses, I mean. They represent hope, love, and the enduring beauty of life. Even in a place of loss and sorrow."
Malfoy listened intently, his gaze softened as he looked at her. "And what do you think they turn into?" he asked quietly.
Her eyes met his, reflecting the moonlight. "I like to think they turn into memories," she said softly. "Sweet memories that we hold onto, even as time passes and life moves on."
Malfoy nodded, his thoughts drifting to the past and the future that lay ahead of them. "Perhaps," he said, a hint of uncertainty in his voice.
She glanced at him, a flicker of something akin to understanding passing between them. Despite their differences, they were both survivors of the war, each carrying their own scars and losses.
"I should go inside," she finally said, breaking the moment. "I need to get ready for work."
Malfoy nodded in agreement, a faint smile appearing on his lips before he appeareted away.
As she stepped inside, the weight of their shared grief hung over her like a shroud.
But in that brief moment in the garden, amidst the roses and the stones, they had found a common ground—a fleeting connection that neither of them fully understood but were both willing to explore.
She stood on the porch, anger boiling within her.
Hermione Jean Granger and Draco Lucius Malfoy, the first sacrifices to this new law, the example the country would look up to—the martyrs.
The thought made her stomach churn. She had fought so hard for freedom, for a world where people could choose their own paths. Now, she found herself shackled by a law that seemed to undermine everything she stood for. As she looked out over her garden, the roses and the stones representing so much loss and so much resilience, she resolved to approach this forced union with as much strength and dignity as she could muster.
But it didn't mean she had to like it.