Chapter Text
Having set the letter down in her lap, Ginny picked it up, scrutinizing its contents. “It doesn’t give you their name.” She pointed out with regret. Hermione released a scoff.
“I really should have anticipated that.” She shook her head at herself. “If I knew who it was, then maybe I’d do something foolish. Like Avada myself,” she added with a grumble. Harry reached over and took the letter.
“All it gives you is the date and office number?” he asked, flipping the parchment over to see if there was more on the reverse side. “That's…clinical.”
Hermione hummed thoughtfully. “Smart of them, really.”
“Right,” Harry muttered. “Would you want Gin and me to come along for moral support? It says you can bring a guest,” he suggested good-naturedly.
“Thanks, Harry,” Hermione said genuinely. “Maybe. We’ll see how I feel the day of, yeah?”
Harry nodded in agreement, understanding her desire for space.
“Just know that if he’s a tosser, I’ll be there to kick his arse before you can blink,” he said, getting to his feet to roll up his shirtsleeves, threatening to punch thin air.
Hermione and Ginny both looked up at him with a laugh.
“Oh, I’m terrified!” Ginny mock-fainted.
“How very thoughtful, Harry. I feel so safe now, thank you.” Hermione released a giggle, feeling lighthearted for the first time in days.
She left their home not long after that to return to her empty flat. Taking the envelope out of her pocket, she read through it more thoroughly than she had with company.
Miss Hermione Granger,
Congratulations! You have been found to be an excellent candidate for the Marriage and Family Law (06.129771.4). The Compatibility Program directors have matched you with your perfect spouse. It is an immense honor and we hope you understand the responsibility the Ministry of Magic is entrusting you with.
Your marriage and contract signing have been scheduled for your convenience. Please arrive punctually at Official M. Frasier, MoM Basement Level 2; Administration Registration Department, Wing B, Room 203, on Tuesday, June 17 at 16:30. Please expect the proceedings to take between forty-five and one hundred and twenty minutes. Guests are welcome but must wait outside the office. Please dress accordingly.
Martha Gibbins
MFL Compatibility Program Senior Associate
Department of Magical Law Enforcement
Hermione folded the letter carefully back into the sleeve and tucked it in a drawer; she didn’t particularly want to look at it. Pulling out her schedule, she added the appointment details to Tuesday and sat looking at it for a minute. Today was Friday, and she’d get married on a random Tuesday. Hermione released a long breath through her nose. It was honestly a little funny how normal the event looked next to her other activities, almost as if it were a common occurrence. The Ministry at 16:30. She knew it’d change everything, though.
~~~
Hermione had barely walked through the doors of the DRCMC on Monday when Hannah appeared at her side.
“Well? Did you get your letter yet? I got mine yesterday, my appointment is on the 20th. Can you believe this is real life?” She matched her pace as they walked over to their desks.
“Yes, I got mine on Friday,” Hermione said with a smile.
She was attempting to lean into her earlier ideology that this law would be incredibly beneficial, as well as encourage Hannah.
That, and a little touch of denial never hurt anyone.
“My appointment is tomorrow. I got a copy of the whole policy last week and have been working my way through it to prepare,” she said, shuffling through her desk papers.
“You’re going to read it all beforehand? I’m sure they’ll tell you the details at your appointment,” Hannah noted with a tilt of her head.
“Oh, I’m sure they’ll mention the ‘important’ bits. But I’d certainly feel much better knowing I was truly fully informed about what's expected of me. Of us…I suppose,” Hermione added as an afterthought.
She’d gotten into the bad habit of forgetting that she wouldn’t be alone in the office tomorrow. That she’d leave with a husband.
“Well, give me a rundown of what goes on, will you? I don’t much fancy sifting through fifty pages of legal jargon,” Hannah said.
“Yeah, sure,” she replied, both of them knowing Hannah likely wouldn’t pay attention either way.
~~~
This was fine.
It was perfectly normal to be this nervous.
Hundreds of other witches were going through this exact same thing. That thought was, unfortunately, doing very little to ease her galloping nerves as Hermione stepped into the Ministry lift. She was technically leaving work early for this, though only transferring to a different floor of the Ministry. Hannah had given her a wide grin and a thumbs-up as she left minutes ago. She had told Harry and Ginny not to bother accompanying her, seeing as this was really only a formal signing of a couple of legal documents. There would be nothing ceremonial or romantic about today's marriage.
As soon as she stepped out of the lift doors into the Administration Registration Department, her heart began to beat faster even as her worries lessened.
The department was swamped. Naturally, she wasn’t the only bride today, or this week. Dozens of people were simultaneously arriving to, and leaving from their marriage appointments. Squeezing past a couple of groups of people chattering and milling about, presumably post-wedding, Hermione craned her neck to look for the B wing. She wondered if her future husband was already here. Was he waiting in the office? Would he be late? Godric, that’d be a poor first impression on her.
Double-checking her wristwatch, she confirmed that she was a reasonable eight minutes early. Not so much as to wait too long, but early enough so as not to hinder any proceedings with her tardiness.
A number of the witches in the cramped hall were wearing white. Should she have done so? Hermione wondered as she looked down at her work clothes. She looked nice enough, she supposed, but certainly not like a bride. Oh, well, it didn’t really matter to her either way, seeing as this really wasn’t a ‘wedding’.
Hermione followed the signs and the agitated Ministry worker who was attempting to shout instructions over the din. The hallway of the B wing was no less crowded, she noted upon arriving in front of door 203.
She checked the time again. 16:26.
The official would surely be ready for her now, wouldn’t he?
There wasn’t exactly anybody there to tell her whether she could or couldn’t enter right now. Should she knock? Hermione didn’t think that she’d be able to make out any response from the other side, regardless. Taking a deep breath, she rapped a knuckle twice on the door and twisted the handle.
Hermione slipped into the small office as quickly as she could, closing the door behind her and blocking out all of the noise from the hallway. There must have been a silencing charm on the door, she thought. Very convenient.
“Ah! Miss Granger, you are perfectly on time!” the warm voice of the official greeted. “Please take a seat, and we can begin.”
Releasing the door handle and turning to face the room, her eyes snagged on the back of a man’s head. Her breath froze in her chest as she registered the shock of nearly white hair.
Oh Godric, no. She thought with desperation. They’ve made a terrible mistake and matched me to a very old man. Hermione’s palms became instantly moist with nervous sweat as she shuffled to the free chair in front of the official’s desk.
Don’t look at him. Don’t look at him, her brain chanted.
Why shouldn’t I look at him? another part of her asked. She was staring straight ahead, not listening to a word the other two men were saying.
Because then you’ll know who your new husband is, and wouldn’t it be better not to know?
“Granger, are you even with us right now?” a voice drawled.
A voice much deeper and antagonizing than the friendly official’s. Snatched out of her internal dialogue, Hermione’s head whipped to the side, seeing as she was apparently now brave enough to look at the wizard seated next to her. She recognized that voice, that aristocratic tone. And there, on her right, looking as if he owned the room, was Draco Malfoy.
He raised an irritated eyebrow at her for now delaying their start with her daydreams. Hermione's brain buffered. Change of plans. She couldn’t do this. Do you think they’d send Aurors after her if she ran? There was absolutely no way she was leaving this office as Draco Malfoy’s wife.
“I’m so sorry.” She turned to address the official. “There’s some mistake. I think I have stumbled into the wrong room.” She got to her feet and fumbled to straighten her skirt, absolutely ignoring Malfoy’s entire presence. Or trying to. “If you could direct me to room 203-”
“There’s no mistake, Miss. I am Mr Frasier, and this is room 203. You are Hermione Granger, are you not?” Frasier smiled.
Hermione’s lips parted in a silent search for any other objection. “I- I am.”
“Wonderful!” Frasier threw his hands up in triumph. “Please, have a seat so that we can begin, seeing as though we are just a couple of minutes behind schedule now, and I do have quite a few appointments to see through.” The official tapped his stack of papers on the desk to straighten them as Hermione resumed her seat rather abashedly.
“Sorry,” she mumbled as Malfoy scoffed under his breath.
“Alright, we’ll first go over the recently enacted Marriage and Family Law to get you both acquainted with your responsibilities and expectations. I'll answer any questions you may have, then we will conclude with the sealing of the union. Sounds alright?”
Frasier looked between the two of them. Neither made a sound, each looking at no one but the official before them. Getting nothing but silent nods to continue, Frasier began giving them the highlights of the law.
Hermione, of course, had already read through the entire thing and was patiently sitting through the explanation for Malfoy’s sake alone. Letting her train of thought deviate slightly from Frasier, she glanced as far to the right as she could without turning her head and alerting Malfoy that she was surveying him.
Malfoy appeared to have also come straight from his job, seeing as he was wearing the tailored blue uniform of an Auror. He wore a silver timepiece on his left wrist but no other jewelry that she could detect from her sliver of vision. Making sure to insert ‘yes’s’ and 'right's’ into the lulls where Frasier would pause to make sure the pair were following, she concluded her brief visual appraisal. She couldn’t tell much of anything about him now, other than he seemed to be much the same person she’d known from school, only perhaps taller and less inclined to sling cruel insults out of nowhere. She wondered then how he’d managed to land a gig in law enforcement, all things considered.
One of his fingertips began to tap anxiously against the wooden arm of his chair. It drew her out of her thoughts. “–after today, you’ll have six months for a certified healer to document a successful pregnancy. For you two, that’d be”–-Frasier paused to flip through a calendar– “December the seventeenth. If that fails, you’ll, of course, be assisted with manual insemination or in vitro fertilization, case depending.”
Realizing how her foot had begun to bounce nervously, Hermione shifted her legs. Her face was beginning to grow warm without her permission. She hoped Frasier didn’t mention it.
Malfoy’s hand darted up to pause Frasier.
“What about the option to adopt? The document said it was an option, but not how that circumvents the…natural process.”
Oh, so he had also read the document? Frasier seemed caught off guard by the question, having been asked prior to his allotted Q&A time.
“Um, yes, quite right, Mr Malfoy.” He pulled out a different slip of paper. “While adoption is available, it is only for those who have unsuccessfully completed both the natural and medical means of producing biological offspring. I can assure you that it is unlikely to be an issue for the two of you.” He gestured between them. Malfoy simply cleared his throat awkwardly.
Hermione, confused, looked between them. “Sorry, how do you mean?”
“Both of your medical examinations last year, and magical signatures were highly compatible when the Compatibility Program team matched you together!” Frasier informed her with proud enthusiasm. “Ideally, none of our couples will need any Healer intervention, seeing as it is rather costly and specialized. Does that answer your question, Mr Malfoy?”
Malfoy grunted in an affirmative.
“As for what’s expected of you maritally–” Frasier flipped his stack to a new section. “Simultaneous cohabitation at the same address is required for a minimum of six consecutive months out of each year. This is, of course, to provide the most stable home for your child–or children!” Hermione grimaced inwardly, “Though more time is certainly encouraged. Things like changes of surname and combination of assets can be addressed privately after today's appointment. Though if you plan on joining vaults, I suggest you make an appointment quickly, seeing as Gringotts will likely be swamped with like-minded couples!”
Hermione wasn’t exactly learning anything new from Mr Frasier; she’d combed through the document plenty in her own time after all. But sitting there, actually having a face to put to the ambiguous husband she’d been picturing was entirely different. Why did it have to be Draco sodding Malfoy? She’d gone into this experience having entirely misinterpreted the matching process. While they had been careful about considering magical and biological compatibility, they clearly didn’t consider personality–or history. And she hadn’t thought about it until now, either.
How enormously stupid of her.
“And of course, infidelity is a breach of contract and will be prosecuted. Any other questions I can answer for either of you?” Frasier asked, sliding his documents back into a folder.
Hermione shook her head. Malfoy answered, ‘no’.
“Excellent! Right on schedule, then, we can move along to the fun part!” The official stood and beckoned for them to follow suit.
Hermione did, hoping that the rather frightened quaking of her legs was unnoticeable. Frasier mumbled something to himself as he maneuvered his rotund form out from behind the desk and over to their side.
“Please face each other and clasp both hands,” he said, positioning himself in front of them. Looking up, Hermione’s eyes met Malfoy’s for a split second before she looked down at his hands again, which waited, palms skyward. Gingerly, she rested hers flat on his, his fingers closing around hers slightly to keep her there.
Malfoy’s hands were rougher than she’d expected. Not that she’d devoted much time to whether or not he’d have callouses or not. But now feeling them, she was surprised. She’d known from Harry and Ron that he was an Auror, but some part of her still supposed he’d have had daintier hands unaccustomed to any sort of labor.
Frasier cleared his throat, causing them both to look at him. He held his wand aloft over their joined hands and began to read aloud from a sheet of paper.
“The marrying of the magically endowed is to meld lives, to alter the tides of the past, present and future with its covenant. This gift is pure and–”
Hermione fought the urge to make any unflattering expressions as a result of the excessively flowery words that Frasier was using. It was in this moment that she sympathized with fictitious characters such as Prince Humperdinck, who entreated the ordainer to ‘skip to the end’.
A silver thread of smoke emerged from Mr Frasier’s wand upon an incantation and circled their hands. Frasier said something about a never-ending commitment.
During the entire speech, Malfoy didn’t make a sound. The only proof of life from him, save his rising and falling chest, was the occasional twitching of his fingers against hers.
“Do you, Draco Lucius Malfoy, take this witch to be your wedded wife, to cherish and to keep from this day, until the day of your death?”
Malfoy’s throat bobbed at her eye level. “I do,” he said with rather contemptuous solemnity.
“And do you, Hermione Jean Granger, take this wizard as your wedded husband, to cherish and to keep from this day, until the day of your death?”
“I-” her voice broke. Her hand was given a squeeze. “I do.”
The ring of smoke shone bright white, casting harsh shadows on every surface.
“Now…” Frasier lowered his wand. “Please seal the union with a kiss.”
Hermione and Malfoy’s heads snapped to look at him in unison, startling him.
“Kiss?” Hermione squeaked.
“That’s not required,” Malfoy objected.
Frasier began to wave his hands earnestly. “It is required by this spell work, yes! With haste, please, or the enchantment will fail!”
Hermione attempted to let go of Malfoy’s hands, but he only grabbed hers tighter as she tried to pull away, his attention never diverting from the official.
“You neglected to tell us that you wouldn’t be taking that out of the program,” Malfoy said with frightening calm.
Frasier looked rather nervous. “I asked if either of you had questions, and you said you did not.”
“Oh, for Godric’s sake, how were we supposed to–” Hermione began before Frasier cut her off.
“My sincerest apologies, Miss Granger, Mr Malfoy. But please! If you do not seal the spell in time, then I’ll have to start from the beginning, and I can't afford to run behind schedule.” He fidgeted nervously with his wand, waiting.
“For crying out loud–” Malfoy huffed.
Hermione’s attention was still staring daggers into the clearly less than competent Ministry official when Malfoy freed a hand and pulled her to him by the back of her neck.
Their mouths met for just half a second, barely time to register it had happened, let alone be angry about it. Satisfied, the ring of shining smoke around their hands wisped away, and Malfoy took a step back.
“Wonderful,” Frasier said with relief as he returned to his side of the desk. “Just sign your names here on the certificate, and you can be on your way.”
Shaking off her alarm, Hermione snatched up the waiting quill and signed her name. Malfoy followed suit, seemingly unperturbed.
“Congratulations to you both. Have a fantastic rest of your day!” Frasier said, charming the certificate to slip neatly onto a shelf behind him. “I trust you can see yourselves out?” He was clearly ready to be rid of them despite his cheery attitude.
“Yes, thank you, Mr Frasier,” Hermione said as she turned towards the door.
Malfoy stood at the door, hand on the knob, waiting… for her? Seeing her attention pivot to departure, he opened it, ushering her through first back into the noisy hall.
Overwhelmed with the realization that she’d just married Draco Malfoy, and by the noise in the hall, she didn’t question it when Malfoy gestured for her to follow him to the lifts.
They crowded into one together, squished shoulder to shoulder, Hermione eavesdropping on a couple in front of them who were apparently already discussing baby names. Good for them.
Her lips still tingled with the phantom of the kiss. It’d been so quick, she couldn’t remember anything about it. Had his lips been warm or cool? Dry or wet? Had he closed his eyes? She didn’t think she had.
“Do you have anything you need to take from your office before we leave?” Malfoy asked after stepping off the lift, his tall stature allowing him to survey the Ministry Atrium.
“What?”
Malfoy looked down at her then, and she was taken aback by his eyes. A shaft of the late afternoon sun hit his profile, seemingly illuminating his silver irises from behind and making his blond hair shine.
“Do we need to run by your office before we leave?” he said with an insulting slowness.
“No? Leave for where?” she asked, trying not to ogle at his distractingly unique features.
Malfoy took an excessively long blink before meeting her eyes, possibly questioning her famed intellect in that moment. “I don’t know. Wherever it is that you would prefer to have a lengthy discussion. I suggest my home.”
Hermione opened her mouth to object before she realized that he was probably right. There was still much the two of them needed to talk about. Things the law didn’t regulate explicitly.
“Right. Discussion. Your home is fine,” she said without thinking hard enough about it. She didn’t exactly want to bring Malfoy to her flat and show off all of her pictures with Cormac.
Malfoy seemed appreciative of the fact that she didn’t argue about the location and nodded towards the floos. Hermione was trying to walk fast enough to match his long stride when she stopped dead in her tracks. “No, wait.”
Hearing her voice feet behind him, Malfoy turned in confusion.
“We–I can’t go to your house. I just, I haven’t–I still remember–” It had somehow slipped her mind when she’d blindly agreed, but now that she remembered that he lived at Malfoy Manor, the place she’d been taken to and tortured, she couldn’t go. “Sorry, it’ll have to be somewhere else,” she said definitively.
“I didn’t realize you had such qualms about Knightsbridge, Granger,” Malfoy said with clear suspicion. Hermione narrowed her eyes.
“Knightsbridge? You live in Wiltshire,” she said, confused as to why she was the one reminding him of this. He just shook his head slowly.
“The Manor is in Wiltshire, yes. I live in Knightsbridge.”
“Oh.” She flexed her fingers. “Right, carry on then.”
Malfoy turned back towards the Floos before any expression of amusement could have manifested, and she continued to follow.
He stepped into a queue for Floo departures, looking over everyone’s heads once again.
“Are you looking for someone?” she asked, crossing her arms.
“Yes,” he said curtly.
After a moment of silence, she realized he was not going to continue. She huffed. “Who?”
“Whom,” he corrected, eyes still scanning the Atrium.
Hermione pressed her lips together in agitation. This was going swimmingly. Malfoy was apparently still a twat.
“Right, whom then?” Hermione followed his line of sight around the crowd, trying to see anyone he might be on the lookout for.
“No one in particular. It's a practice of vigilance,” he muttered.
Hermione shook her head and turned her attention back to the shortening line. They were nearly to the front when an excited voice rang out a few meters away.
“Is that–? Hermione Granger!” A wizard shoved his way through the crowd towards her. She’d barely registered the camera and Daily Prophet tag when his approach was obscured by Malfoy’s back. “And Draco Malfoy!”
A camera flashed.
“Not interested,” Malfoy snapped at the reporter.
“Are you two leaving your marriage appointment? Are congratulations in order?”
The people around them began to buzz with interest in the disruption. Other reporters and photographers seemed to come out of the woodwork, taking pictures of the two of them from every angle despite Malfoy’s attempts to block her from their view.
The rush of movement brought the scent of his cologne right past her. It was piney and masculine, she–
“Can we have a word about your opinion on the new law, Mrs Malfoy?”
Hermione balked at the title. “No! I’m not–”
“Over here, Hermione, give me a smile!”
“Out of our way!” Hermione was yanked with unexpected force by her arm towards the floo, bypassing everyone else who’d been waiting. Her yelp of pain was entirely ignored by Malfoy as the crowd pressed further.
“Show us the ring, Hermione!”
“Draco, how do you feel about being matched with a Muggleborn wife?”
“Hermione, are you pleased with your new husband, or will his past get in the way of your romance–”
The end of the question was drowned out by the Floo roaring in her ears as she was sucked into the network.