Finding Freedom

It was, ironically, quite warm on the day that hell decided to freeze over, Draco Malfoy later mused, however at this moment he found himself indisposed to ponder nature’s wit. He was lounging gracefully across one of the Edwardian armchairs in his father’s office and, to his credit, he showed discernible distress at the havoc which had just been wreaked on his life. Those who knew him very well would register a barely perceptible darkening in the shade of his silver eyes, but there were very few people who he actually allowed such a privilege, especially not the man sitting across from him, who rivalled Draco in his air of apparent nonchalance. It had been a very long time since Draco had lost all respect for his father. However, the complexity of bond between them, a war of what Draco felt to be some form of filial responsibility and a complete disgust at his father‘s clear insanity, was such that Draco for some reason felt a moral obligation towards this man. There was also the question of what would happen to Narcissa if Draco ever erred in his obedience. He had laughed at those who celebrated freedom after the defeat of Lord Voldemort by the Boy-Who-Wouldn’t-Die. Between the intricate tensions of his family life and next year’s seventh year of schooling, there was no aspect of Draco’s life that was truly his own apart from the time he spent with his friends. “I do hope that you are listening to me.” His father drawled, with a dangerous glint in his eye.
“Father, considering the nature of what you have just told me I would be insane not to.”
“Then you understand you’re position?”
“Ah, condescension, you never cease to surprise me Father, and now you are about to yell, but don‘t trouble you‘re delicate vocal chords, they have been damaged enough from the obscenity which you just spoke.”
“DO NOT MOCK ME, YOU UNGRATEFUL BRAT!”
“Ungrateful…an interesting choice Father. I always believed that the word implied someone who was ignorant of a favour that they had been given. I was uninformed that the meaning had changed, or are you simply lacking in any other vocabulary? It would explain the over use that that word sees around here. No don’t,” he said calmly, ascertaining correctly that Lucius had been on the verge of exhibiting the fullest extent of the vocabulary he could muster for ingrates such as his son. “If what you say is correct, and this Marriage Act is coming into affect within the month then I understand the need for prudent action on my part. What I am finding difficult to comprehend, however is the bizarre reasoning behind what you have done. Hermione Granger, Father? What possessed you?”
“ What did you expect Draco, to marry for love?” His father mocked. “Grow up.”
“Of course I didn’t expect love, I think I learnt enough from you to understand the politics of matrimony. However this seems less like politics and more like lunacy.”
“How dare you…Do you know what it is like for me, once one of the most respected members of the ministry, to be forced to rely on rumours and gossip from the few friends I still have? Do you know what that means Draco?”
“I know what it means, but why must my life be pissed away because you decided to follow a nut job Dark Lord and got caught?”
“Draco, you are the last hope for this family. We need you. An alliance with Hermione Granger will show the wizarding world once and for all that I have forsaken all ties with the Dark. In any case my decision is not up for discussion. My contact understands that if the Marriage Act is passed then he will submit the marriage petition for Hermione Granger.”
“And what if someone else petitions for her? Weasley, for example will, I’m sure, jump at the chance.”
“Thankfully money still has weight at the ministry, even if I do not.” Lucius said smiling, as if he had made a clever joke. Draco supposed that he could not have expected much more from his father, however bribery had always seemed so common to him and he did not approve on his father’s reliance on it. It was one of the aspects of his father’s life that had eventually made Draco realise the true shallowness of Lucius Malfoy.
“Well, I see that you have planned this very well, now if you no longer require my presence, I’m going out for a fly.”


It took 30 minutes on his broom before Draco had carefully re-ordered his mind. Apparently, the future was bleak. The only way he could possibly escape spending his happily ever after with the bushy-haired girl wonder was if the ministry decided to show an inkling of sense for once and scrap the law. Since his hopes of this were not high, he had already bet the safe money on being trapped in an unhappy marriage for the next hundred years. While Draco had never actually expected to marry for love, he had expected at least some sort of pureblood alliance with someone from his own set and at the very least not to marry someone who he utterly loathed. His mind slid over all the many altercations between himself and his future betrothed over the years. The future was indeed bleak. However, Draco had never been one to wallow in his own self pity and he was much more interested in finding a solution than worrying about the problem. After all, just because he and Granger would be formally married, there would be no need to actually see each other terribly often. Malfoy Manor was large and they each had different interests. Hogwarts was also large and seeing as their houses were polar opposites both ethically and geographically, he saw no reason that they would have any more contact at school than they had had previously. On reflection, Draco decided that he was not exactly upset about this new bar to his prison, just a little disappointed.

******

“Oh God!” The cry was filled with such anguish that most of the inhabitants of Freesia Crescent couldn’t help but to nosily crane their heads towards Number Eight, the Grangers’. What now? They thought. While the two elder Grangers were indeed dentists, normal and highly respected professionals, it could hardly be left unnoticed that there was something rather odd about their daughter, something that was clearly linked to the above average number of owls that could be often seen in broad daylight (no less!) flying through her window.

The girl herself, however, had never had any interest in their prying and at this moment, would probably not even have noticed a small earth quake. She had just received her post for the morning and as she had expected, amongst a Flourish and Blotts loyalty card and a leaflet advertising some sort of penis growth potion, was a sealed letter from the ministry with her name on it printed in neat capitals. Today had been the day set for all witches over the age of seventeen to receive their marriage petitions from eligible wizards over the age of seventeen. Hermione could already see the name on her letter before she had even opened it. Ron’s dad had heard about the law on the day that it had been announced and quickly put in a petition for Hermione on his son’s behalf. Hermione and Ron had been seeing each other since Sixth year had ended with the defeat of Voldemort and had so far had three clandestine snogging sessions at the Burrow. Ron, Hermione had to admit, was not a first class kisser, but she, with what limited experience she herself had, was slowly teaching him. In any case he was kind and sweet and she could not think of a wizard she would rather spend the rest of her life with.

All this left her completely unprepared for what she discovered upon opening her letter. Inside between a few paragraphs of Ministry jargon was the name Draco Malfoy. She closed her eyes and then looked again, re-read the name on the front, read the entire letter three times before finally accepting that she had just been royally fucked over. “Oh God!”

Her mind, always switched on, went into sudden overdrive as she ran through possibilities and probabilities. After five minutes she had two separate and yet equally terrible courses of action available to her. Firstly, she could snap her wand, forget about magic, Hogwarts and her friends and re-integrate into the muggle world. Or she could marry Draco Malfoy and endure what would probably win the award for the most dysfunctional marriage of the century. However before she had even finished this thought, some part of her knew that there was only one real choice, however much she hated it.

******

Dear Mister Malfoy,
You’re petition for one Hermione Jane Granger has been accepted by the Ministry. Please find a wedding date within the next month. If you should choose to ignore this deadline, severe penalties will apply.

Please have a pleasant evening and best wishes for your future!

“What a bunch of cocks.” Draco muttered under his breath. So, marriage within the month to the one and only Granger. Shit. He knew that the next step was to hold a meeting between himself, his dearly betrothed and their families. That was going to be fucking amusing. He could see her in his mind’s eye crying, tears streaming down her face as they sealed their marriage contract, snot running from her nose and her face contorted with hatred. Urgh. How attractive. However apart from the meeting he also had several house calls to make, now that he was no longer a bachelor. He grabbed a handful of Floo from the fire place and, tossing it into the flames, called out “Chateau Daladiere”.
“Ah, Draco, I was wondering when you would call again…it ‘as been a while, non?”
“Yes Marie, it has.” He drawled sitting down gracefully on a Chaise. He had not even spent a full minute with her and she was already getting on his nerves.
“Do you want me to wear one of my new costumes? One is of a nurse..” She whispered seductively in his ear.
“That will not be required, thank you. Unfortunately for you I find myself newly betrothed so I will no longer be needing your services.”
“De Quoi?! What do you mean? Betrothed? But we will be betrothed, non?!”
“Non Marie, we will not be betrothed. Good Bye.”
“Connard! I am Marie Daladiere, not some little ‘ore that you can use whenever you want!”
“Marie, quite honestly, the only difference between you and ‘some little ‘ore’, as you so delicately put it, is that a whore at least gets paid for their promiscuity. You, on the other hand, seem to be a slut by nature. Au Revoir, Marie.” And with that he stood and in one smooth motion, turned on his heel and vanished back into the fire place vaguely annoyed that he had stayed so long as he had a few more such calls to make before dinner. While he would miss the constant sex that had been part of what he now thought of as his old life, he certainly wouldn’t miss the collection of trollops parading as Ladies who he had mostly been involved with. Vulgar women had never really been to Draco’s taste, he enjoyed nuance. In any case most of these women would kick up a storm about being unceremoniously dumped, sending a clear message to the wizarding public that Draco Malfoy the playboy was now a one-woman man.

*****

The tension in the largest drawing room of Malfoy Manor was palpable. On two sides of a 18th Century coffee table sat three Malfoys and three Grangers. The contrast between the two parties was almost laughable. On one side, the Grangers, dressed in a smart, black pantsuit for Mrs. Granger, a freshly ironed pale green shirt and black pants for Mr. Granger and a mid-length rose velvet skirt with black stockings, lace up brown boots and an off-white shirt for Miss. Granger. The elder Granger’s sat anxiously on the very edge of the antique sofa, almost completely obscuring their daughter who was stubbornly sitting as far away from her future husband as she possibly could. To her credit, however, Malfoy noticed that there were no tears in her eyes and in fact her features had a rather determined air. Her features were something that Malfoy had never really noticed before. Of course, he had made fun of her large front teeth and bushy hair in his younger years, but they had all grown up since then, including Granger apparently, whose teeth were now normal size and whose hair seemed to have been tamed into a honey coloured mass of defined ringlets. Her eyes were nice too, he noted, a warm chestnut brown flecked with gold and surrounded by thick black lashes. Very different to his own cold silver eyes. He himself had chosen a black shirt and black pants for the meeting. His father had unerringly decided on black robes and his mother was wearing silk in a shade of pale blue which matched the drapes of the room.

On the coffee table between the two families lay a contract, no less and no more than a hundred pages long that each party had carefully read, re-read and amended until it was as satisfactory as possible. It had come as a surprise for Lucius, though not so much Draco, that the Grangers had not requested any financial support for themselves, only their daughter. The Malfoy’s had already taken this as a given so there was no argument there. There had been some tension about primary place of residence, but it had eventually been decided, much to Hermione’s disgust, that Malfoy Manor was indeed much more spacious and much better suited to housing a newly married couple. Now the only things left to do were to sign the contract and begin discussions about the wedding itself. Draco rose slowly and Hermione did the same, then Draco took the contract and led Hermione out of the room into a nearby study. The signing of the contract was supposed to be done alone by the two parties as a first act of intimacy or some such rubbish. Draco placed it on a desk and wrote his name in flourishing script on the last page. Her turned and handed the pen to Hermione, who in turn wrote her name. The sheaf of parchment promptly rolled itself up and vanished, presumably into Ministry files. He turned to his future wife gravely and was about to leave when he was stopped by her whisper.
“Why?” She asked.
“What do you mean, ‘why’, Granger?”
“Why did you petition. It was supposed to be Ron. His name was in on the day the law was passed.” Something about her voice made him honest in his reply.
“My father put my name in the hour the law was passed.”
“Why?”
“Honestly, Granger , you’re supposed to be one of the most intelligent witches of the century and you can’t even figure that out? How does a last ditch effort at returning to respectability sound? What about salvation for his mortally damaged reputation?” Where was this coming from? He wondered, he was never this forthright with people he hadn’t known for the last seventeen years. This seemed to shut her up so, slightly relieved, he turned once more to leave the room.
“How dare you.” She whispered.
“Excuse me?”
“How could you do this to me? You torment me for six years of schooling not to mention what you’ve done to my friends and then you have the nerve to use me, me who could have been happily married to Ronald Weasley, who I love, to further your father’s bid to fucking re-enter society. I’ve seen you steal from first years and hex people when their backs are turned, but this is by far the lowest I have ever seen of you.” She hissed and before he could even try to justify or retort she was gone.

Out in the corridor she shook her head, she hadn’t meant to say any of that, especially not the part about loving Ron, which was not really even true, I mean, she liked him and he was sweet, but what they had was yet to evolve beyond that and now probably never would. Especially seeing that at the moment he could barely speak too her without breaking down or screaming at her. His tantrums had rendered him less and less appealing as far as Hermione was concerned. I mean it was hard to find someone attractive when they were muttering insults at you under their breath and sighing angrily at you for not snapping your wand or not finding some other way to avoid marriage to Draco Malfoy. She knew that he saw her resignation to her fate as personally insulting. Harry on the other hand, who had had many more dealings with fate was unhappy at the turn of events but also understood her acceptance of them. Both boys, however, did want to slice off Malfoy’s balls. She allowed herself a small giggle at that before re-entering the drawing room, followed closely by Malfoy. They returned to their respective seats, Malfoy looking totally indifferent as usual unaffected by what Hermione had said. She ground her teeth, even though she had known before she said it that he wouldn’t care. It was Narcissa who broke the silence.
“I think that the men should perhaps leave us for a while to give us a chance to start discussing the wedding. The date we have agreed on is the 28th of July? Which gives us enough time to plan, but also enough time for the honeymoon before school starts.”
“Honeymoon?” Hermione inquired.
“It’s Malfoy tradition for the newlyweds to honeymoon at a manor we keep in the lake district.”
“I see.” She didn’t feel up for arguing in the presence of three Malfoys so she left the issue, but was fairly certain that her and Malfoy alone in the lake district for a week could only lead to death for one or both parties.
“Yes, now, Lucius, Draco, if you could be so kind as to escort Mr. Granger on a tour of the manor we ladies can get down to business.”
“Certainly, darling,” Lucius replied, in a voice that made Draco want to gag. There were moments when he loathed his parents and when they were pretending to be exemplary of perfect wedded bliss for guests he could barely contain his disgust. “Mr Granger, follow me.”

With the men gone there were a few moments of silence, broken once again by Narcissa.
“Now we have a few issues to discuss. Firstly, which part of Malfoy Manor would you like the wedding in? I can recommend the ball room, which is of course the more conventional location, but various Malfoys have at one stage or another decided against it, one marriage was even held up in the tower. Not very practical, however.”
“I don’t really care.” Hermione said, instantly regretting the anger in her voice. Her aim for this meeting had been to maintain a dispassionate air throughout as some sort of silent protest.
“Hermione!” Her mother admonished. “I know I can only vaguely understand your position at the moment, but a wedding is a wedding and while you may not appreciate it now, you will one day want to look back on it with some amount of fondness.”
“I find myself in agreement with your mother, Hermione. I know that my son was not your first choice and I know that this must be very difficult, but every woman deserves a beautiful wedding. Do not spoil yours by letting others plan it.” Hermione didn’t really care about Narcissa’s view, but her mother had noticed her poor attitude and she would not disappoint this woman who had tried so desperately to understand the reasons she had to marry someone that, for all intents and purposes, she hated.
“Fine. Our wedding is in late July so it should be quite warm…Could we have the ceremony outside and then dancing and such in the ballroom?”
“That would be perfect considering that the doors to the ballroom open out onto the garden. Now what colours would you like? You will of course wear white and Draco black, but dresses for your bridesmaids are another matter, as are the decorations.”
“Well, um the bridesmaids are going to be Ginny Weasley who has red hair and Luna Lovegood who has blonde hair, so I suppose a colour that goes with both of those…”

*****

My life is fucked, Hermione thought to herself as she stood behind the bridal party on her way to the alter. She knew that that was not a thought which one was supposed to entertain minutes from being eternally bound to another soul, but her life felt so far beyond her control that she could hardly bring herself to think anything else. At least I look pretty, she mused and then smiled at her own vanity.

Draco who was already at the alter, surveying the proceedings with his trademark disinterest caught sight of his bride at the exact moment that a smile flitted across her lips. He stopped for a minute and stared, as he assumed a groom was allowed to do, at his future wife. She was beautiful today, he had to grant her that. Her white gown which was loose and fluent had gold embroidery around the bodice which brought out her dark gold hair and her warm eyes. Her hair was a mass of ringlets around her head that no one had bothered to tame. Her eyes however, he noted with some disappointment, looked weary and sad. Still she looked magnificent, surround by her brides maids, who were wearing a pale gold lace, and standing beside her father who was wearing a spotless black tuxedo. All this was edged with the bright green of their summery setting; in front of the open French doors of the ball room and with a back drop of the creek that ran through the Malfoy property which was edged with willows. He had protested when he had been first informed that their wedding would be an outdoor affair. He had always assumed it would be held in the ballroom, but apparently Granger had specifically requested. He didn’t like to think that his sudden lenience may be as a result of what she had said to him at their first meeting, but however much he tried to deny it to himself, her sentiments had been that of a kindred spirit. He had been so involved with his own feelings of imprisonment, that he hadn’t realised that she must also feel trapped. Seeing her sad eyes now affected him for some reason.

For the most part the audience of over one hundred people had no idea of the complexity that this beautiful ceremony disguised. Most of them assumed that these two had married to form an alliance, or the few who were less disposed to kindness, seemed to think that Hermione was in this for some sort of financial gain. This was one of the first Marriage Law Marriages and there was still a great deal of speculation amongst the wizarding world. Hermione had only been to the wedding of one other friend so far and that was Parvati Patil to Dean Thomas. She knew that Ron had petitioned for Lavender Brown, which had initially sparked jealousy, but her own life was running away from her so quickly that she struggled to concern herself with the lives of others. Everything was changing so rapidly, and she was surrounded by so much uproar that she would almost be glad to leave for her honeymoon. Almost. She gradually let her gaze wander up to the alter. She had been purposely avoiding it because she knew who would be standing there, but curiosity was getting the better of her and she knew that at some point in the ceremony she would probably have to look at him. He was there standing, lazily with an expression on his face that was almost a smirk. She had expected that from him. However, she had not counted on his eyes which had, unbeknownst to her, been following her. She met them now and thought she saw something glimmer across them until he turned slightly and the moment had past.

She climbed the stairs to the alter and had now took her “rightful” place across from Malfoy. The ceremony began with what she suspected to be one of the more sombre wedding serenades.
“We come before this place in a spirit of joining to unite two souls in one ultimate expression of human love: Marriage.” The Master of Ceremonies began. Hermione chanced another look at her “beloved” and thought she saw him roll his eyes. She smiled for the second time and he caught her and held her eyes. Then he did something that she had never seen him do before. First one side of his mouth curled and she assumed that this would be yet another cold smirk, but slowly the other side also began to curl until he was wearing the beginnings of a genuine smile. In spite of the knowledge that he was probably only doing this for show, her own smile widened. He was handsome when he smiled, well, he was handsome all of the time, but now, there was a light that had been missing before.
“Do you, Hermione Granger, take as your husband Draco Malfoy? Do you offer your body and soul to him to protect for the rest of your years on this earth?”
“I do.” She said, the smile vanishing from her lips.
“And do you, Draco Malfoy, take as your wife Hermione Granger? Do you offer to protect her body and soul for the rest of your years on this earth?”
“I do.” He said with an air of gravity that he hadn’t expected. He was disappointed that she was no longer smiling. She had looked so beautiful. He wanted her to smile again.
“Then by the powers vested in me I pronounce you bound and unified as man and wife.” At these words a wind whipped up, much to the surprise of the guests and the Master of Ceremonies. It had been a perfectly sunny day. Hermione looked to Draco to see if he knew what was going on at the same moment that he looked at her and she felt a strange coolness trickle down her back to pool at her left hip. If Draco felt anything similar, his face did not belie it, but his regard was intense. The Master of Ceremonies, clearly deciding that he would finish the ceremony wind or no, turned back to the couple.
“Mr. Malfoy, you may kiss your bride.” Hermione baulked inwardly, she had thought that was only part of muggle ceremonies, but Draco was already drawing her closer. She felt his hands around her waist and was captured by the image of him coming towards her, his hair in disarray and his robes flapping about him. She felt as wild as he looked and, throwing caution to the wind tilted her chin and met his lips in their first kiss.

Draco was startled when she tilted her chin towards him, he was half expecting her to try and turn away, but no, there she was waiting with her chin high and her eyes closed. The wind whipped around them capturing her hair and her gown. He leaned down tentatively, not understanding why he was putting so much thought into this, he had kissed hundreds of other witches, and slowly brought his lips to hers. The moment that their lips met he felt cool pouring down his back again, resting once more on his left hip. He had felt this during the ceremony, but it was much more intense now and when it had passed, it was replaced by a burning heat that was not so much painful as overwhelming. He lifted his lips and opened his eyes to see Hermione’s staring back at him, with an expression of puzzlement. She looked as though she was about to ask a question, but he shook his head slightly, to remind her where they were. They stood back from each other into their original places and the wind died down. The guests applauded, well most them did. Draco noticed both the Golden Boy and his Weasel sidekick were sitting staunchly with their hands by their sides glaring daggers at him. He smirked and enjoyed the Weasel’s reaction which consisted mainly of a clenching of fists and a whitening of knuckles. His….wife, hmm, that sounded weird, had noticed his provocative actions and was looking at him angrily, previous sentimental moments apparently forgotten. He sighed inwardly. This marriage was five minutes old and already doomed to failure.

*****