The Things with Feathers

PROLOGUE

Hermione knew the value of having a contingency plan. From the first moment she'd heard about the proposed legislation, she'd started researching her options. Within a day, she had a rough plan outlined.

The weeks leading up to the vote, she protested. She sat in on meeting after meeting, listening to the reasons for so she could effectively argue against. The Minister of Magic quickly tired of seeing her on an almost daily basis.

On the day of the vote, she'd gone into Muggle London. She'd sat in her favorite park, pretending to read but just people-watching instead. She was so distracted she couldn't enjoy the fall colors or the bite in the air of early September. After dark, she went to the Burrow. One look at Harry and she had her answer. So she said goodbye to her best friends and left England.

CHAPTER 1

It was a warm, spring day. Flowers were in full bloom, the market was bustling, and the sun was shining on the two rivers that met at the foot of a hill to begin their journey together to the Mediterranean.

Hermione was sitting at her favorite table at her favorite café, staring at the Saône, her favorite of the two rivers. She had a book open, but she was too busy enjoying the gently blowing breeze and the sounds of people buying and selling to pay attention to it.

She had called Lyon, France, her home for a little over six months. It hadn't taken her long to feel as welcome there as she had in England, and now she was thriving. Of course she missed her friends, but her firm resolve helped ease the pain.

Hermione watched a family stroll by, remarking on the pedestrian bridge that spanned the water. She smiled and took a sip of her tea.

As she set the cup down, a shadow fell on the tabletop. Before she could be too alarmed, her visitor spoke.

"You are a very difficult woman to find." Draco Malfoy then unceremoniously slid into the seat opposite her, ruining her view. The sense of calm she'd felt moments before was shattered.

She blinked at him once, swallowed her astonishment, and took a sip of tea. "I wasn't aware I was lost."

"Hiding, then," he said dismissively. "Whatever you need to call it. The lengths I had to go to in order to locate you…." He trailed off, leaned back in the chair, and thrummed his fingers on the table. "Took me three months—three—to convince your friends to give me your parents' names. Just names, mind you. Absolutely nothing else."

Hermione could tell that he'd been preparing this rant for a while. She did her best to feign utter indifference, though she felt unnerved by his sudden appearance.

"Then I had to figure out where they live, go there, ingratiate myself to them so that they would help me. Another six weeks and I got one word. Lyon." He rested his arms on the table and leaned toward her. "Do you know how many Lyons there are?"

Hermione quirked an eyebrow, quite amused.

"Not many. But still! Then another month to find you. Here." He gestured erratically. "In France. Having tea on the Saône."

She fought a smile and folded her hands. "Would you like some tea?"

"Yes!" he stated emphatically, slapping a hand on the table and leaning back in his seat once more.

Hermione motioned for a waitress and started to speak but Draco took over.

"Maison de thé, s'il vous plait," he said.

Hermione looked at him with practiced surprise.

"I know French," he said, as though offended she would think otherwise.

"Of course you do," she said nonchalantly. She spread her hands out. "Well, you've found me. What do you want with me?"

Draco studied her for a moment, as though unsure how to proceed. In all of his practicing in the mirror, she guessed he hadn't really gotten this far. "After all this time, I'm not sure how to begin."

Hermione nodded and drank from her cup. Draco's tea arrived then, and he prepared it in his usual way: two lumps sugar, cream.

"Why not just send an owl and, I don't know, ask?" she said.

"This isn't something I can do via letter," he replied. He took a few measured sips of tea. "I'm here to take you back," he said leisurely, not looking at her.

This time, she couldn't hide her surprise and set down her cup, which she'd been in the process of bringing to her lips. "Excuse me?"

"Back to England," he said, as though that were all he needed to say.

Hermione gaped inelegantly a moment more, then shook her head. "I'm terribly sorry, but it would appear you've wasted a great deal of time in finding me. I'm not going back to England until they repeal that ridiculous law."

"I'd hardly call it ridiculous, Granger. It—"

"Of course it is," she interrupted, all the fire she'd thought had mellowed rekindled in an instant. "What right does the Ministry—or any government—have to tell me, or anyone, who to marry? It's absurd. It's medieval. It's—it's just wrong! I refuse."

Draco leaned forward again and cast a Muffliato spell. "It's not absurd. They have a good reason for enacting the law. The Squib rate over the last few decades is alarming."

"I know all of their reasons, Malfoy," she snapped heatedly. "I went to every single bloody meeting they held, asked every question possible. Too many Squibs born to pure-bloods, so they're forcing people to mix blood."

He set his jaw. "Because they know it will work," he responded. Hermione could tell he'd done his research, apparently with the aim of convincing her. "It's not the first time—"

"I'm well aware of the precedent," she interrupted. She'd done her own research of course, before the law was passed. "In 1323, a marriage law was enacted, and the incidence of Squib births dropped significantly. The same thing in 1756."

Draco nodded confidently. "So it's a good law."

Hermione shook her head. "It's a sticking plaster."

He frowned. "Sorry, a what?"

"Spell-O-Tape," she translated. "It doesn't solve the problem of why there's an increase in Squibs."

"I … don't follow."

She huffed. "The Marriage Law only serves to force people who wouldn't normally have children to do so, in wedlock. The problem, Draco, is the blood prejudice behind it. Pure-bloods stick to their kind, leaving half-bloods and Muggleborns together. Your lot starts having Squibs, and suddenly there's a crisis and it's everyone's problem."

He looked like a deer caught in the headlights. It gave her only mild satisfaction; she wished she didn't have to spoon-feed him information that she thought was completely intuitive.

"It's all some weird, magical genetics, but Draco…" She leaned forward now, too. "Think about it. What does a marriage law really say?"

She watched him think about it. He was smart; he'd get it. Finally, comprehension dawned. He closed his eyes and shook his head. "Unbelievable. I need something quite a bit stronger than tea."

Hermione smiled sadly. "The wizarding world needs Muggles to survive. It needs people like me to continue to exist. And yet, blood superiority is so rampant. Most of the Wizengamot would rather vomit slugs than admit it. Why do you think we keep needing a Marriage Law? Because marriage laws don't fix the problem."

He sat there for a minute, thinking hard. She recognized the expression on his face, the way his brow furrowed just so. Then he looked at her with determination in his eyes. "But that's exactly why you should come back with me. You're right, the wizarding world needs you. They need you to say exactly what you just said to me."

She waved dismissively. "Please. They're never going to understand. It would require everyone to change, to understand. People have been saying it for many years, I'm not the first. I tried to tell them before they passed the law, but no one really listened. They don't see it, they don't want to understand. Because they don't want to admit that everything they've ever believed is wrong."

Draco's jaw was set. "There is no one better to do this than you."

She laughed wryly and tilted her head. "If I come back, they will force me to marry. They've already convicted me of crimes against the government, for sedition. They accused me of disturbing their precious peace, and all because I pointed out the hypocrisy in their line of thinking. If I come back, I'll have to apologize to them, and no matter how much I hate it, I would have to marry. I wholeheartedly, entirely refuse."

Draco looked down, took a sip of tea, looked back at her, the confidence in his eyes wavering. "Do you … do you know? Who put in for you?"

She dropped her eyes quickly to avoid keeping his gaze. "I … I know you did."

"You do."

Hermione nodded, wrapping her hands around her teacup. "Ginny told me. At some point. I can't remember when."

Then she looked up at him, all remorse for any pain she may have caused him gone, all embarrassment gone. She thought she understood now. "If you need me to sign some paper so that you're free from that obligation, I'd be happy to. Just tell me where to sign."

He looked at her incredulously and then shook his head. "No, you—you don't understand. I'm not trying to get out of this… situation… I don't want just somebody. I wanted you."

"Oh!" she gasped, startled at the revelation. "Draco—"

"Think about it." He leaned on the table, and it hurt her heart to realize that this was something he had rehearsed as well. "We're good together; we worked well together, we got along. We were friends."

It was true; they'd been partnered together in the Strange Cases Department of the MLE for over a year before the law was passed. In that time, they had developed an excellent working relationship that had started to spill over into their personal lives as well.

"Just because we were excellent partners and worked very well together doesn't mean we belong together, that we're meant to be together. I want to marry because love is at least part of the equation."

He gave her a weary look.

She continued. "It doesn't mean we have what it takes to make it… that we should get married, for Merlin's sake."

Draco scowled and glanced around as though looking for something. "No, I suppose not, but better me than someone you don't even know, right?"

Hermione crossed her arms. "If my choice was between you and someone I didn't know, then yes, I suppose you would be better."

He scowled and scraped at something on the table with a fingernail. "Gee. Thanks."

She huffed. "You know what I mean! It's irrelevant to even discuss it. Because I am not going back to England."

She could see a battle raging in his mind; over what, she couldn't begin to guess. "What if … what if the one who wanted you … was in love with you? Hypothetically speaking," he added hastily.

Hermione froze. Draco wasn't … he couldn't be … in love with her. Could he? No, they just got on well, and now he was trying to play to her emotions. It was impossible for his feelings to be so deep. Wasn't it? Only… what if they were? No. She refused to consider the possibility that his feelings were genuine. They were merely the product of the heightened drama surrounding the law. Still, she hated feeling sorry for him, hated even more that she had to cause him more pain. "Oh, Draco. I could have been engaged to you when the law was passed, and I still would have left."

The barest hint of pain flashed across his face, covered quickly by incredulity. "Why?"

She went on quickly, hoping to barrel past his almost-confession and never return to it. "Because my protest, my refusal, my leaving, is not about the timing of the law. Even if I'd just happened to be engaged when the law went into effect, like with Ron, it doesn't change the the fact that the government is controlling my future. And I refuse."

"We could have eloped, as soon as we heard about this law."

She shook her head. This conversation was too surreal. "But, Draco, we didn't elope. We weren't engaged. We weren't even together. The law is in place, and this is a theoretical, irrelevant scenario." She could see in his eyes that he disagreed, that he wanted to keep arguing, keep trying to convince her. For him, this was very relevant. For her… But she couldn't entertain thoughts of more. What would be the point?

He needed to quell these thoughts and feelings for her, and the sooner, the better. "I … I'll sign something," she offered. "I'll do whatever I need to do to release you. I know the deadline is approaching." She'd always planned to buy a very nice Côtes du Rhône wine and drink it alone in her flat on the night of the mandated wedding. She hadn't stuck around to learn the details, but she knew it had to be soon. Why else would he be here?

Draco met her gaze and held it with surprising confidence. As though he hadn't just almost told her he was in love with her. "That's not what I want," he said calmly, clearly.

"What will you do?" she asked, hoping to deflect his line of thinking. She also had to break their gaze, and she did so by taking a sip of her tea. "If you don't marry, won't you be in violation of the law? And go to Azkaban until you fulfill it?"

"I'm not sure," he replied with a careless shrug. "You vacated the country. I don't know what the legal ramifications are. You're the only one who left. The only one!" Anger seemed to surge up suddenly.

"I don't care—"

"There will be no one left, Granger," he continued over her, his voice rising slightly. "No one. When you come back—and you will come back, you'll have to! Your friends and family are there. Are you going to miss weddings, babies, celebrations forever because of your stubborn pride? And when you come back, there will be no one available."

Hermione gritted her teeth. "My list of potential mates is not limited to those in England."

Draco's eyes widened; apparently, he hadn't considered that she might find someone outside her native land.

She continued before he could gather his thoughts to speak. "I refuse to allow the Ministry—or anyone—tell me whom or when to marry! When, and if, I get married, it will be to someone I choose. Not from a list of pre-approved eligible bachelors." She was angry again, though not at Draco, and she had to keep her emotions in check. She didn't want to hurt him more than was absolutely necessary for him to really hear her so that he could go home and move forward with his life.

Draco was quiet for a few minutes. Hermione had time to be distracted by a family of four purchasing some fresh flowers from the market down the street. Finally, he sighed heavily, squared his shoulders and looked her in the eye. "Then choose me."

Hermione's heart caught in her throat. He really did seem to want to marry her. Just for an instant, the smallest portion of a breath, she hesitated. Her mind started to walk the path of what he was asking, but then she closed her eyes, shaking her head to physically force the images away.

"I'm sorry," she said sincerely. "So, so sorry, Draco, but I absolutely cannot even consider it. Let me sign something so that you aren't held to this match. I'll write the Ministry, I'll do whatever I have to do to—"

Draco shook his head, his entire posture reflecting his hurt. He pulled away from her in every sense of the word, and she actually felt the loss, even though they were sitting across a café table from each other. He casually retrieved a few euros from his pocket and set them on the table. "I'm sure it's enough for yours as well, I don't care to count or wait for change." He stood. "Thank you for your time."

With a brief, impersonal nod, he walked away and out of sight. Out of her life.

Hermione realized her hands were shaking when she reached for her teacup. She tried to lift it but decided she wouldn't risk breaking it. It was all she could do not to look after him, but on the very off chance he was watching her, she couldn't.

It took her about half an hour to feel calm enough to leave. While she waited, she allowed herself to think about what might have been. Before the rumors of the Law had started, she'd found herself attracted to Draco. She'd hoped he would ask her out and had done her best to encourage him. But he hadn't, and then the Law was talked about openly. At that point, Hermione stopped hoping Draco would ask her out because she'd have said no. She'd have said no to anyone who'd asked, but she'd hoped to remain friends with Draco. She'd also known before too much time had passed that she wouldn't be sticking around if the Law were passed. Besides, she'd never dared imagine that he'd want to date her—much less marry her—enough to put in a request for her in the match process.

Now, though, it seemed that he had felt… something between them, enough to convince him that, of all the witches in England, she was his preference. She couldn't allow herself to think that he really was in love with her. She wasn't ready to face that reality, and the accompanying knowledge that she'd quite possibly broken his heart.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: So here's a funny story. I started writing in 2006, and I abruptly stopped in 2010 after my daughter was born. Or, rather, I stopped being active in fandom or putting words on paper; I never really stopped writing. Just posting. Or finishing anything. This particular story was started in 2012. YES. TRUE STORY! It has taken me over 4 years to finish it. And the finished word count is only 26K. It's crazy to me, because I used to be able to write and finish a story like this in less than a month during my "prime." Anyway. Maybe most of you don't even remember when I was actively writing, and that's fine. But I'm totally still here, I still like to read, and I still love to write. So, who knows, maybe it'll happen again. In another 4 years!

MANY MANY THANKS to my beta for this story, eilonwy! A good beta is worth her weight in gold, and eilonwy is one of the best! Seriously, betas make the world go 'round!