Chapter Text
She is not for me.
She was not for me on the night of the Yule Ball when she shone brighter than all the stars in the sky.
Not when she fiercely stood in my hall after the snatchers had caught her.
She was not for me as she screamed on the floor of my drawing room.
Not for me to have
or hold
or save.
She was never mine.
So I don't know what power possessed me to do it.
What made me run forward the last two fateful steps.
What made me see nothing but her,
and the split second there was before the spell hit her.
Ridiculous, really, how I mostly felt like I had no idea what I was doing, but at that moment I knew clearly — the spell wouldn't hit her.
It would hit me instead.
Considering how much time I spent convincing myself I'm not a hero, it took barely no effort to suddenly take the role of one.
Two steps and a shove to her back.
I saw her fall forward, behind the corner,
out of the way.
And Dolohov's experimental spell — the one I knew he'd use given the chance — hit me square on the chest.
All I've heard them talk about Dolohov's curses come back to me that moment.
When the spell penetrates my skin, curls around my organs and sinks into my bones.
As I feel it take over everything.
It will kill me.
But not right away.
The sick bastard wanted his victims to die knowing they can do nothing about it.
He wanted them to live the rest of their short days, knowing every second who it was that they couldn't beat.
Death would come
crawling
During days and weeks and months,
Until I would be crawling too.
I don't even fall.
Just stand there, in the corridor of the only place I ever felt safe in, knowing I'd die.
And that the reason I'd die,
was so that Hermione Granger would live.
.
.
.
The war ends that day.
Voldemort falls and the Death Eaters get convicted.
Dolohov goes to Azkaban.
So does my father.
And I'm left at our manor.
I tell no one about the curse I took.
Suffer the consequences alone.
Lock myself into the empty dark halls and the dusty library.
Mother can't bear to come back.
Not with my father gone.
Not after all that happened here.
She moves to one of our estates in France.
Reconciles her relationship with her sister Andromeda and lives in the hope father would eventually get pardoned and join her.
I wouldn't count on that.
Sunlight hurts my eyes.
I wake up at night, my orgains aching.
Sometimes I can feel myself rotting from the inside.
The mirror shows me nothing wrong.
But I can feel the end.
Lurking in every corner of the darkness.
Crawling closer.
"You should go out sometime," Theo tells me for the first two months he visits.
I ignore him and he gives up eventually.
Pansy tries to drag me out.
But only once.
I tell her about the curse that day and my hand falls from hers.
She stares at me, first with disbelief then with horror.
"There's nothing to be done?"
I shake my head.
She cries for me then.
I don't think anyone other than my mother has ever cried for me before.
Even myself.
I never cried for the future inevitably waiting for me.
I was numb.
Even then, when Pansy threw her hands around me and sobbed my shirt damp, I had no tears for me.
Or pity
Or even remorse.
As if this was what I was born to do.
Born to die — for her.
It didn't sound too bad.
Eventually, I have to tell Theo, Blaise and Greg too. After they threaten not to visit me anymore if I don't tell them what is wrong.
"We let you keep a secret once. And look where it took you!" Blaise clarifies.
And I tell them,
to keep them visiting.
"How did he even hit you?" Theo asks.
That's the question I won't answer.
I'm no hero.
I won't take credit for it.
Won't pretend to be a bigger person than I am.
So I just shrug, "Bad luck?"
That'll do.
.
.
.
Sometimes I wonder what Granger is doing with the life I gifted her.
If she's treating it with proper respect.
If she's happy now…
The magazines give me some insight, but only mostly rumours.
At least she breaks it off with Weasley only a few months after the final battle.
And apparently she went to study healing and curse damages.
How ironic.
Sometimes I wish I could see her.
To witness that she's really fine and coping.
To be sure the war didn't destroy her.
To have proof that what I did was good and right and worth it.
But to leave the safety of the manor feels like holding onto a life I no longer have the privilege to enjoy.
So I won't.
Until I have to.
I don't know whose brilliant idea it was.
I have no idea how it passed the Wizengamot.
But a year after the final battle they announce “The Marriage Law Act” among the wizarding community.
It's for the good of all magic.
That's what they try to tell us.
But really it's just another form of regulation.
Another way of controlling people's lives and keeping magic pure.
Even though this includes muggleborns and half-bloods.
It's still regulation of who marries into magic.
At least they let us have options.
The ones that already have a partner have the right to pick the one of their choosing.
Those single, can make a match on their own, or sign to the ministry for a compatibility test where they match you with the best suited.
Ri-di-culous
Let me tell you.
But apparently the law.
"Do you have to do it? Despite —" Greg asks me one evening when they're all over at the manor again.
"No one knows he's — his condition." Theo points out.
And he's right.
I could go to St. Mungos and make it official.
I could report to the ministry that there's no use marrying me to anyone since I'm already half gone.
I could —
But I won't.
Instead, I lie awake at nights.
Stare at the ceiling of my dark room and make up a plan.
One more plan
to make my pathetic life count at least something.
It's not a perfect plan.
I'm not a fucking planner.
It's not an easy plan either.
And ultimately it won't make the rest of my short days easier.
As a matter of fact, it would probably make them a lot harder.
But at least I did something.
At least I didn't die hiding.
So I take my cane.
Grandfather Abraxas's cane to be precise.
Pull leather gloves on my almost blue hands and cover myself with the longest, thickest cloak I can find,
And make my way to the ministry.
I haven't been out in the sun for months.
Have barely breathed the fresh air instead the dust of the manor.
Haven't walked more than up and down the stairs and the corridor to my room.
My joints feel rusty and even a few dozen meters make me feel out of breath.
But I'm out and I'm doing this.
Pansy apparates to the gate at exactly eight o'clock as I asked her to.
"Do I even want to know?" She asks, arching a neatly shaped eyebrow.
"Probably not." I answer shortly, "Take me to the ministry."
"You think you're in shape to apparate? You couldn't take the floo?"
"Our floo isn't connected to the ministry."
They disconnected it when Voldemort lived with us and didn't reconnect after.
I found no need to, before today.
She rolls her eyes but does as I ask her to.
"You're not telling me what you're up to, do you?"
"No"
"Is it stupid?'
"Extremely"
"You're still going to do it?"
I nod, "Yes."
My cane clicks foreignly on the marble floor of the Ministry hall as I make my way forward.
I'm doing this. Even if it was the last thing I ever did.
The official behind the counter is a lady with deep red lips and nails.
She takes my name and opens my file ahead of her, "Not yet matched I see?"
I nod, "That is why I'm here. To make a petition."
"A petition?" She looks up at me, biting a pen between her lips.
Slowly I slide a deck of money across the table.
A considerable amount of money.
"I want to be matched with Hermione Granger."
The lady takes the money and flips through the deck, "You're trying to bribe me, Mr Malfoy?"
I tap the desk with my fingers, waiting.
She flicks through the money again.
I know it's almost as much as she makes in a year. An amount that would be hard to say no to.
Because I also know this might end me up in jail.
"I can't do it without her signature." She says finally. Taking out more papers from her drawers, "I can make it a magically binding petition, but it can't be finalized without her signature."
"All she has to do is come and sign it? No one else can petition her? She can't tie herself to someone else meanwhile?"
The lady writes something down on the paper, "Not before you both sign in or out of this contract."
I nod briefly, "Fine, she'll come sign it later."
"The papers are charmed to notice any kind of persuasive magic." She warns as I take the quill and sign my name to the end.
"I'm not going to force her. She'll come herself."
But first, she would come for me.
I knew it already.
I could picture it already — her coming to the manor, full of rage, to tell me she can't be bought.
.
.
.
It takes her only two days to find out.
Only two days before my wards tell me she's at the gates.
I open the door before she has even crossed the yard.
And wait.
Almost eagerly, actually.
Realizing it's been ages since I waited for something — since I felt this alive.
"Draco Malfoy!" She yells as she steps into the entrance hall.
I take my time.
Fetching my cane and making my way down the staircase.
As if I did not know what she is about.
She's standing in the middle of the hall.
Streams of daylight from the big doors illuminating her from behind.
Forming a halo of light behind her.
Looking exactly like she should be looking — young, vital and fierce.
Like the war hero that she is.
I almost smile at the sight of her.
Because just seeing her confirms what I wanted to know all along — I did the right thing.
"What did you do?!" She demands now.
Her eyes blazing.
Not even trying to pretend to be polite or cordial.
"What did I do?" I stop to study her as I reach the end of the staircase, "You need to be more specific."
"You know what I'm talking about."
"I'm afraid you need to remind me. I do a lot of things." I lie, but she doesn't have to know that.
"Why would you possibly think it's okay to go into the ministry and sign papers of OUR MARRIAGE!? Why would I want to marry YOU!? We haven't even talked in years!"
"Oh, that." I quip
"I'm not something you can just claim! I'm not for SALE Malfoy!"
"You have someone else in mind then?"
Remain calm.
I have a plan. I know what I'm doing, and maybe she doesn't know that yet, but she'll want to sign the paper eventually.
She twists her hands angrily, "No, but that doesn't mean you can just — Besides," she flips her hair, "I shouldn't even have to explain this to you! I owe you nothing."
That is not particularly true either.
But it's not something she needs to know.
"I have a proposition." I wave my hand and the double doors behind her swing shut, "Maybe we can discuss it in the study."
I turn my back and start to make my way to the study door.
"If you think I'm coming further into this death trap —"
"Come on, Granger. The war is over. Isn't it time to let go of those prejudices?"
"You're one to talk!"
But I hear her start to follow me.
"Dipsy!"
My elf pops in immediately.
"Would you please take Miss Granger's coat? And bring us some tea."
"Yes, Master! At once!" Dipsy bows and turns to Granger.
When we reach the study and I turn back at her I realize it was a mistake to call Dipsy.
She looks even more disgusted by me than she did before.
"I pay them." I say calmly nodding to Dipsy coming in with the tray, "and they get to go on a vacation every year if they wish to."
She eyes me suspiciously.
"So you had a problem with my petition?"
"I'm not marrying you. I'd rather —"
I click my tongue and sit on the large armchair, manoeuvring her to sit down too.
She doesn't.
Stubborn witch.
"Yet you said you have no one else either? I've understood it's the law now."
She sneers at me.
Kind of refreshing having someone look at me like that.
Like they absolutely loathed the sight of me. Nowadays most people I meet look at me only with worry or ignorance.
"I believe I have a proposition we can both benefit from."
"I seriously doubt that." She huffs, crossing her arms.
"You study healing, yes?"
She nods.
"And research spell damages?"
She nods again sharply.
"I believe your studies and research are important to you?"
She nods and I smile.
"Yet this new law — ridiculously if I may add — says married couples should reproduce within two years of marriage or the marriage will be annulled and they need to be paired again? You're ready to be a mother within two years?"
We're barely twenty and just got our lives back.
Only one look at her expression and I know exactly how she feels about this.
"I'm offering to buy you time." I say slowly, letting the words sink in, "You sign the paper and agree to marry me and you'll have two years of freedom."
"How am I free if I'm married to you?"
"You'd have your own space in the manor. A study room and the library are at your disposal. I have enough money to provide for both of us. You wouldn't have to worry about the income."
"And what do you get out of it? I'm not going to whore myself to you Malfoy."
I laugh hollowly.
Is this how lowly she thinks of me? That I'm so desperately in need to get laid that I'd pay her for it.
"I get my mother out of my back. You know how it is to be the last living heir of two ancient houses?"
She doesn't respond.
"I'm not getting married or having children in two years."
I won't be alive after that.
But it's not something I'm willing to share with her.
"You don't even have to talk to me if you don't want to. You get two years of freedom to study, pursue your career and pick a spouse of your liking."
"I could —?"
"You can do whatever you like. I don't survey who you spend time with."
"But —"
"I only want to be left in peace, Granger."
It's fascinating to see her resistance falter.
I study as the muscles of her face relax and her hands drop to her sides as she weighs my words.
She's an interesting person.
So simple to steer into a direction I want her to go, but on the other hand more complex than I imagined.
"I want you to make a vow." She says slowly, "I want your word you won't use the contract of a marriage to force me into something."
I nod.
Figured she'd want something like that.
"I won't share a bed, or even a room with you."
I nod again.
"I'll be your wife, but only on paper."
"You do realize everyone needs to think it's for real, do you?"
It's her turn to nod.
"There are certain events we need to attend to appear real in the beginning."
"My friends won't buy it."
I frown, "You could tell them we were matched by the compatibility magic."
She seems to be considering, "That could work."
There's a pause as she — no doubt — tries to figure out what loopholes I'm trying to leave for myself.
"I'll think about it until tomorrow. Okay?"
Honestly, I wanted her answer now.
But what can I do? Suppose this is all I can ask for now.
So I nod again.
And she leaves through the yard and I feel so heavy I barely make it up to my room before collapsing on the bed.
.
.
.
She signs the papers the next day.
And Pansy binds our vow.
Hermione's hand is soft and delicate in my cold one as she stands before me.
She was never for me
until suddenly she is.
Maybe not in a way one might imagine, but in some way at least.
I vow never to intentionally hurt her. To never go close to her with any kind of ill intention.
To never touch her against her will. To never use the marriage contract for my benefit.
And she vows the same.
I didn't ask her to.
But she says it goes both ways.
"Do you want a wedding?" I ask her afterwards.
She laughs, "I believe that would be the event of a century." Then she goes serious, "No. We don't need that attention. My friends will have a hard time accepting this as it is."
As if I could pull off a wedding in this condition.
As if I could be the husband she deserves when I can barely leave the room.
As if there was enough of me left to pretend to be the person I once was.
Even I wasn't that good of an actor.
So I'm glad we're on the same page about it.
.
.
.
She moves in.
Into my halls.
Into my life — however much there's left.
But if I was expecting a smooth sail (I wasn't) I would have been wrong.
"MALFOY!" Her voice rings in the corridor making my head ache,
as if it wasn't aching before.
I promised her peace, where was my peace?
I put on my best calm, indifferent face and exit my room, "What's wrong?"
"I don't want the elf to clean my room! And I can wash my own clothes and make my own meals. Tell the elves away."
I sigh, "You're their mistress as much as I'm their master. Why don't you tell them yourself?"
"I did! But the one refuses to take my orders."
"Dipsy?"
"Yes! Tell her off!"
"She's the head elf. And as I told you, they're free elves. I can't make them do anything they don't want to do."
"She won't listen to me."
I shrug.
It only seems to agitate her more.
"Listen Malfoy! I'm here only because we have a deal and you promised to not bother me but this —"
Calm.
Stay calm.
I try to think but the further her rant goes,
the more she runs her mouth, the harder staying calm becomes.
"This is /Your/ house! She is /Your/ elf so —"
"AND YOU ARE /MY/ WIFE!"
Takes a while to understand the roar comes from my mouth, "You're the lady of this house! Everything here belongs to you too! So if you have a problem with the elves DEAL with it!"
For once she's left speechless.
Staring at me as if everything I said is new to her.
"Now excuse me." I yank open the door of my room and leave her standing in the corridor without a chance to retort back anymore.
The next day she joins me for breakfast.
Hoovers at the door looking unsure of the reason she's there.
I motion for her to sit down.
"I'm not here because I want your company." She points out stubbornly before pulling a chair for herself, "I just thought since the elves are cooking anyway at least they don't have to cook two separate meals."
I focus on my bread to hide a smile from her.
I thought I didn't really know her, yet she was acting exactly like I'd imagined her acting in a situation like this.
"Miss has joined us for breakfast." Dipsy carries a tray of fruit to the table, "Dipsy is glad Miss came to her senses."
Hermione seems like she doesn't know what to answer.
"Yes, at least on that part," I answer without making eye contact.
She frowns at me.
"Thank you, Dipsy."
The elf bows.
I glance at Hermione, she's still frowning.
"Grab an apple for yourself too, will you," I add.
"Master knows Dipsy eats when it's time. Can't start eating whenever, no she can't. Health first, master, health first."
I knew the answer beforehand. Dipsy never dines with me. Not even when I ask her to.
"I guess she thinks our eating habits are not healthy." I shrug as the elf leaves the room.
Granger still looks suspicious.
I'm kind of getting used to that look. Like she couldn't quite figure me out.
But she joins me for lunch and dinner too. So maybe she's starting to figure out this arrangement at least.
The halls feel a little less dark with her around. I think she opens the curtains when she has the chance.
Sometimes I step into the room and have sunlight completely blind me.
The first time that happened I thought it was just my condition getting worse before I realized it was the light streaming from the windows.
I don't know what she does with her days.
I don't even know how much she stays at the manor and how much she's gone.
Sometimes I see her in the garden with a book in hand. Stand in my shadowed corner by the window and study the speed she flicks through the pages.
And at meals she still keeps joining me.
We exchange a few polite words here and there but to call it a conversation would be an overstatement.
I didn't bring her here to keep me company though.
I wanted to be alone. I don't want her to pay attention or ask me how I am —
Or make me want to keep living.
I just wanted to see her flourish while I wilted away.
It was justice.