Here you are! Sorry for the lack of updatage, but I’ve been swamped with debate and school! I hope you like it!

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo Chapter 11 OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

It finally hit Draco that he was really getting married. His life was closer to being turned upside down with every step Hermione took down the aisle. He wasn’t sure if it was for the better or for the worse. Suddenly, the young Malfoy felt a chill run down his spine and he knew that the Dark Lord was present. He gritted his teeth and reached out to take Hermione’s hand as she reached him. She was giving him a glare that could have melted a glacier.

“Remember,” he whispered as they turned. “Either we both live or we both die.”

“I would die for Harry,” she whispered back.

“Be my guest. Get the satisfaction of knowing you caused my death too.”

Hermione stabbed her fingernails deeper and deeper into the flesh of his palm. She knew that he was in pain, but his face never changed.

“He’s here isn’t he?” Hermione asked as the minister continued.

“Yes.”

Hermione drew herself up and instantly donned a frigid demeanor.

“Make your choice, Granger,” Draco said, almost as a challenge. He had already said the fateful words, sealing his fate.

Hermione panicked. She looked around at the faces of people she hated. The frightened girl could see no way out. She thought about the things she wanted to do with her life, and they didn’t include marrying Malfoy.

“Granger?” Draco said. “Answer the question.”

Her face was as white as a sheet. She was imagining her life with Draco. Hermione saw herself as a captive in her own house, kept as a recluse until ordered to do something terrible. As these thoughts grew faster and more frightening, Hermione began to stammer.

“I…I…I…”

Before she could say another syllable, everything went black as she fell, feeling strong arms close around her.

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“Ugh, my head,” Hermione moaned, opening her eyes.

She knew that she wasn’t cozy in her dorm bed, but her surroundings didn’t look like Malfoy Manor either. The confused Gryffindor was surrounded by the hated silver and green. She rolled over and to her horror saw the white blonde hair of Draco Malfoy.

“Ahhhh!” she screeched, jumping out of the bed and clutching the covers to her.

“What is it, woman!” Draco sleepily growled.

“Where are we and why am I in your bed!” she demanded.

“Well, Grang…um…Hermione, that’s generally how husbands and wives sleep,” he said sarcastically.

“We aren’t married! I fainted!” she screeched.

Draco simply rolled over in response.

“You said ‘I do’ as you were falling. Get over it. As to your other question, isn’t it obvious that we’re at Hogwarts? I thought you were smart.”

Hermione’s mouth opened and closed.

“I was unconscious you great prat! A legal marriage can’t be performed unless we’re both conscious!”

“Get used to it. You’re Mrs. Draco Malfoy,” he said sleepily, holding up his hand to show her his silver wedding band.

“If you say anything about this to anyone, I swear I’ll castrate you.”

“As capable as you would be of doing that, it’s kind of post facto. Every reporter in England was there. Our wedding was the highlight of the season.”

“Just bloody great. Really excellent,” Hermione seethed.

“So was last night,” he winked at her.

The modest Gryffindor looked stricken.

“What. Did. You. Do!” she growled dangerously.

“Calm down, I was just joking,” he rolled his eyes. “But we have to soon. Otherwise the marriage isn’t really recognized.”

“Well we wouldn’t want that now would we?” Hermione asked sarcastically.

“Sure wouldn’t. Come on, breakfast only goes for another half hour,” Draco said, amused.

“Don’t patronize me!” Hermione warned.

She flicked her wand at herself, instantly being rendered ready.

“By the way, everyone thinks we married for love, so be convincing.”

“Who are you to tell me what to do?”

“Your husband,” he laughed.

“Trust me, I will find a way to get out of this. There is no way that the ceremony was legal,” she muttered.

“Good luck, Granger…well I should really call you Hermione now, shouldn’t I, dearest?” he mocked.

Hermione whipped out her wand and pointed it at his throat.

“What did I tell you about mocking me!”

Draco also pointed his wand at her throat.

“What did I tell you about listening to me?” he shot back.

The pair stood there, wands pointed at each other’s throats, glaring at each other.

“Granger, oh bloody hell. HERMIONE,” he stressed her name mockingly. “If you want your precious friends to live, I suggest you obey me,” snapped the blonde. “I really would rather not put you under Imperius, but I will if I have to,” he said forcefully.

Hermione searched his eyes and found the truth in them. He did indeed know something she didn’t, and would not hesitate to use Dark magic on her. Hermione slowly lowered her wand, defeated.

“There will be no need for that,” she said, defeated.

“Excellent. Come on them. We have to make our debut to the school,” he smirked.

“Fine, but I have one condition,” Hermione sulked.

“What’s that?” Draco laughed.

“Absolutely NO PDA!”

He looked at her with one eyebrow raised.

“Says you. Come on!” he said impatiently.

Just as the couple reached the doors to the Great Hall, Hermione shut her eyes and took a deep breath. Draco opened the doors and Hermione prepared for the barrage of questions she was certain would come her way. However, as Hermione sat down between Harry and Ron, they simply looked at her curiously.

“Where have you been all weekend, Mione?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, we were worried sick,” Ron added.

Hermione stared at them.

“You honestly don’t know?” she asked incredulously.

“Should we?” they asked, puzzled looks on their faces.

“Let me see that,” she demanded, snatching the Daily Prophet out of Harry’s hand.

She scanned thorough it, not seeing anything in the paper about her wedding. After shoving a plateful of food into her mouth in a very un-Hermione like way, and drawring stares from all her housemates, she furiously pulled a piece of parchment from her bag and scribbled a harried message on it.

“Library. NOW!

-HG…M…G…Just meet me!”

She cast an invisibility charm on the parchment and sent it floating across the room, into Malfoy’s lap. She took off the spell and watched in satisfaction as he yelped in surprise, spilling pumpkin juice all over himself. After cleaning himself up and reading the note, he looked at her rising from the table and rose to follow her.

“Mione! What’s going on!” wailed a confused Ron.

“I’ll tell you later, boys. Right now, the ferret is going to find out what the Inquisition was like!” she said, stomping off.

“Mental, that one,” Ron said. Harry nodded in agreement.

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Hermione entered the library and saw Draco boredly leaning against the wall. She grabbed him and dragged him into the deepest, dustiest corner of the library she could find.

“Really, Hermione, I’m not in the mood for a morning romp,” he said amusedly as she shoved him against the wall.

“Shove it. Now explain to me why there is no mention of our wedding in the paper, no one is talking about it, and why you’re looking at me like that!” she whispered furiously.

“Calm down! You want answers? Fine. But I don’t think you’ll like them,” he laughed. He kept on laughing until he was laughing so hard that Hermione was inches away from hexing them.

“Just tell me!” she almost yelled, then remembering that they were in the library.

“Fine. We’re not really married,” he began. Hermione slapped him as hard as she could across the face.

“What was that for!” he asked angrily.

“For putting me in your bed, you great stupid prat!”

“Do you want answers or not?”

“Of course!”

“Then shut UP!”

Hermione glared and closed her mouth.

“Finally! Ok, the reason you fainted was because the double bind was too powerful.”

“What double bind?”

“I’m getting to that!” he said, irritated. “Ok. When they took some of your blood to see if you were ill, they found something in it that…changed things.”

“What? Am I sick or something?” she asked with a hint of fear in her voice.

“Regrettably, no,” he snapped. “You aren’t who you think you are. When they performed identification spells on your blood, they found that you’re not a Granger. Your blood was pure wizarding.”

Hermione slunk against the bookshelves and slid to the ground, speechless.

“They thought you were muggleborn, so they ran some parenting spells and they found that you’re really the daughter of the Haverings.”

“The Haverings? The most famous followers of the Dark Side who are supposed to have died out? Those Haverings!” Hermione asked incredulously.

“Yes. Little known fact is that Celia and Jonathan had a little girl that was stolen away on the day she was born, and they both died of grief soon after. Here’s another trivia fact for you, Hermione,” he said, moving closer to her. “A boy was born a month earlier and betrothed to marry the girl. Can you guess who they were?” Draco asked snidely.

Hermione closed her eyes.

“Oh. My. Gosh. PLEASE put me out of my misery and tell me it’s not us,” she said pleadingly.

Draco knelt down to her level.

“Sorry, Hermione. Or should I say, Havering. Congratulations. We’re engaged again.”

“Why again!”

“Because a wedding resulting from a betrothal is completely different than one from free will,” he smirked.

“Why? And how can we get out of this?” she asked.

“Don’t be daft. You know perfectly well that betrothals are unbreakable. And now that you’re pureblooded, we’ll have to perform certain rites of passage that are according to your station.”

“Like what?” Hermione said warily.

“Charm lessons and etiquette for one,” the blonde snorted derisively. “And we’ll probably have to arrange some sort of coming out ball for you.”

“I am NOT jumping through hoops for you!” Hermione stomped.

“You’re so cute when you’re angry.”

“Don’t try and play mind games with me!”

“I’m not,” Draco said thoughtfully.

“Malfoy? Malfoy! What are you doing?” Hermione asked as he came towards her.

“Look, Hermione,” he sighed. “I don’t want to spend the rest of my life constantly fighting with you. After seven years, it’s really starting to get old.”

Hermione gaped at him.

“Me! You’re the one that started hating me for no reason when we were 11!”

“I’m sure you’ve notice I’ve grown up…in several ways,” he winked at her.

“Then why are you still so infuriating?” she demanded.

“The personality comes with the rugged good looks,” he smirked. “I can be nice when I want to be,” he said, sidling up to her and stroking her shoulder.

“Then BE nice,” she said forcefully, struggling not to shiver.

“I will if you will,” he agreed.

“Fine,” she nodded. “But I think civil would be a good start,” she faltered. He had put his arms around her and was kissing her neck. Hermione remembered why she had started to fall for him in the first place.

“But…your family. I can’t stand them,” she said bluntly.

“Mmmm. We’ll move into the summer manor until they’re gone,” he murmured into her neck.

Hermione’s resolve to keep him at a distance was quickly weakening. The Gryffindor was determined to be a distant companion, but it didn’t seem like the attractive boy was going to settle for distant…or anything like it.

She started to gently pull away, but he firmly held her.

“If we’re going to be nice, we might as well start now,” he said seductively. “I don’t want you to hate me,” he then countered, almost tenderly.

Hermione thought for a second and came to a truthful realization.

“I don’t hate you,” she whispered.

“What?” he asked incredulously.

“I said I don’t hate you. I may not love you, or even really like you, but I don’t hate you,” she said firmly.

“It’s a start,” he said softly. “Do you think you can survive all the pureblood stuff you’ll have to do? Or could you at least try?”

“I’ll try just to prove I can, but I won’t like it, and I’m not doing anything Dark or illegal.”

“As long as you try,” he said ambiguously, kissing her again.

He turned her to face him and she surrendered to his arms wrapping around her and his lips crashing onto hers.

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