Mrs Malfoy

A/N: Holy crapola. You, yeah you, you are all amazing. I never, ever would have expected to get so much response on this first chapter. I've had this chappie up on my computer for about three years now, but have always been working on something else, so I finally put it up so that I could work on it.

A few people, such as SomewhatGlutinous, magaritama, and Firebreather said that they had seen a story like this one before, but I haven't posted it anywhere else, and there is nothing to do with potions or Draco losing his memory, or anything as such, and I hope that my story deviates from the others as it progresses. And it is not like 50 First Dates where she loses her memory every day.

Everyone who had a question that I have not answered is because the question will be answered in the course of the story. :)

As I have it somewhat (brokenly) planned at the moment, there will be about ten chapters, but if you have any suggestions at all, you can let me know and I'll try to incorporate them into the story.

Thanks so much for reading and reviewing--you have made me a very, very happy writer. I hope that I continue to make you happy readers. :D

~Charlie

Chapter 2

She knew that she was dreaming, and there were two factors that contributed to this conclusion. The first factor was that real life usually had sound and yet the scene that she was partaking in seemed to be completely devoid of it. The second factor was that real life usually had colour, and yet again, this scene seemed to have no colour.

The scene was a woman, which she thought to be herself, jumping up and down excitably on a big mahogany bed. She was smiling and laughing and there was a man with blond hair standing at the side of the bed just looking at her with amusement prominent on his handsome face.

When the woman jumping on the bed got too close to the man, he grabbed her ankles and pulled so that she fell across the bed. Then he crawled up her body and kissed her so tender a kiss. Then he smiled and said something, but the lack of sound made this entire scene nonsensical to Hermione. However, the woman on the bed smiled largely and kissed the man back.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

When Hermione felt herself coming to, she kept her eyes closed for a few moments and groaned. She could feel something hard beneath her head, and she felt fingers running through her hair. She hoped, by Godric she hoped, that it had all just been a dream. She couldn’t possibly have lost five years of her life and ended up married to Draco Malfoy, could she?

She opened her eyes slowly and found a blond head leaning over her. She closed her eyes quickly. Damn it. She opened her eyes again and he smiled softly at her. ‘Are you okay?’ he asked.

For some reason this question, his voice, this sentiment from someone who had always hated her, caused her stomach to turn and she jumped up and frantically searched for a toilet. Upon seeing the door that she thought led to the loo, she ran in, collapsed in front of the toilet, and heaved.

Malfoy was almost instantly into the loo with her. He opened a drawer and pulled out a large hair clip and with a practised ease put her hair up so that it was no longer in her face. He then kneeled down next to her and put a hand on her back. ‘It’s okay, love.’

She flinched at his touch. ‘Please don’t touch me,’ she said and then retched again. He stood up and moved over to the sink. He opened another drawer and grabbed out a tube of toothpaste and an unopened purple toothbrush and set them on the counter.

‘I’ll be in the bedroom,’ he said somewhat stoically. ‘You can take a shower. We’ll go to Weasley’s after you get dressed.’

Hermione spit two or three times into the toilet before flushing it and standing up weakly. She went over to the sink and looked at the toothpaste—her favourite toothpaste—and the purple unopened toothbrush—purple was her favourite colour. She held her head in her hands. This couldn’t be! Why the hell would she be married to Draco Malfoy!? Why would Ron break up with her? What had happened in the last five years to change things so much?

She thought she knew exactly how her life was going to turn out. She and Ron would get married, they would have two kids, a boy and a girl and name them Rose and Hugo. Ron would be an Auror and she would work in the Ministry. They would live in a small house in Surrey. It was the perfect life, the perfect ideal white-picket-fence, two-and-a-half-kids, dog-in-the-garden life! What had gone wrong!?

She opened the toothbrush with trembling hands and brushed the sick from her mouth. As she stood in front of the mirror, she realised that Malfoy had dressed her in knickers and a bra. At least he had that much decency. She rinsed her mouth out and stepped out of the underwear, walking over to the large shower. There was a towel-warming rack next to the shower door and she sighed in happiness at it. She’d always wanted one of those.

She stepped into the tiled shower and noticed a seat built into the side.

‘What’s the seat for?’ she asked.

He smiled. ‘It’s so I don’t fall on my arse when we make love in the shower.’

Hermione shook her head and turned to where the dials should be, but there were none. ‘Well, that’s stupid,’ she said aloud. She looked around the entire shower for a way for it to turn on. She moved her hands along the tile and saw nothing that would be helpful. ‘Damn it, turn on!’ she yelled. She was suddenly drenched in ice cold water as the shower turned on. ‘Too cold! Too cold!’ she screeched and it immediately warmed up.

She washed and conditioned her hair and scrubbed her body with whatever body scrub was in the shower, all the while inspecting her changed body. She couldn’t deny that she looked older. Not old, just older. She had grown out of her lanky form into a woman with curves. How was Malfoy doing this? Had he been torturing her for five years and then cast an Obliviate just to pretend that they were happy together? She groaned. ‘Just stop it, Hermione!’ She would let him explain himself before she thought about it much more. Her command to herself also filtered to whatever controlled the shower and it turned off.

She wrapped a huge, warm towel around herself and put her hair in another. She walked embarrassedly out of the bathroom. ‘Your closet is to your right,’ Malfoy said. He was lying back on the bed, now completely dressed. ‘I called your office to tell them you wouldn’t be in today.’

She was about to walk into the closet when she realised his faux pas. ‘You called my office?’ she asked. ‘Don’t you mean you floo-ed them?’

He sat up and looked at her. ‘You’re a dentist, Hermione. For Muggles. I called your office.’

‘Ha! I don’t believe you!’ she said with a triumphant gleam in her eyes. ‘Why the hell would I be a Muggle dentist when I’m a witch? I was planning on being the Minister for Magic one day, Malfoy!’

‘Your mother can explain it to you,’ he said, lying back onto the bed again. Then he said with resignation in his voice: ‘You wouldn’t believe me anyhow.’

Hermione cocked her head at his unusual behaviour. He was so stoic and insipid. She would imagine that he would be laughing in her face at losing her memory. That he would have her tied down to the bed so that he could have his wicked way with her against her will.

‘Please don’t do this to me, you evil, horrid man!’ she tried to say through her laughs.

‘That was good, Hermione. I almost believed you,’ he said, licking her neck.

She shook her head and walked into what he had designated her closet. And Merlin was it a closet. High shelves with racks and racks of clothes. Shirts, jumpers, trousers, skirts. There was an entire wall dedicated to shoes. She dropped her towel in surprise. This couldn’t be hers. She never cared the slightest for clothes, why would she have so many? And those shoes! All she needed was a pair of trainers to be happy.

‘Dress warm!’ Malfoy yelled from the bedroom. ‘It’s cold outside.’

She decided to just do as he said. She found some cute knickers and bra. She put on a thick jumper and some woollen trousers and found a pair of trainers to top it all off. Then she shook her hair out of the towel. ‘Malfoy, where’s my wand?’ she asked.

‘In here,’ he said. She walked back into the bedroom and he was pointing to the bedside table. She moved cautiously towards it, afraid that he might snap it away at the last minute. Her fingers closed around the wood and she sighed. She did a quick hair-drying spell and then pointed her wand at Malfoy.

‘Tell me what the bloody hell is going on,’ she said, demanding answers now that she had her wand and could protect herself against the git.

He sat up. ‘Why should I?’ he asked.

She gaped. ‘Because you’ve obviously kidnapped me and taken me to your Mansion of horror. And you keep putting these strange thoughts into my head! Now tell me what’s going on!? Where. Is. Ron?’

‘Is it so hard to believe that you love me?’ Malfoy asked.

‘Yes. It is hard to believe that Malfoy, because I don’t even know who you are!’ She grabbed her finger and tried to pull the ring off, but it was stuck. ‘Why won’t this come off!?’

‘It’s a wizarding marriage, Hermione, it’s for life.’

She glared angrily at him. ‘Fuck off.’

He grabbed her hand and towed her towards the fireplace. ‘Come on. You won’t trust a single thing that I say.’ He threw floo powder into the fireplace and then shoved her in. ‘Say “Harvest House”.’

Hermione stared at him like a petulant child. ‘Harvest house,’ she said deliberately, and was pulled away by the floo.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Hermione arrived in the fireplace of a very posh house. The lounge that she had fallen into, covered from head to toe in soot, was pristine. There were three sofas and a hard-wood coffee table with a gorgeous chess set in ebony and ivory sitting atop it.

‘Hey, Herms,’ came a voice from the doorway.

‘Oh, Ron!’ Hermione cried out. She ran into the man’s arms and kissed him, holding onto him as though he was her last lifeline. ‘I just knew that Malfoy was lying. I knew that you would never have broken up with me. Right? Just tell me he was lying.’

Ron’s face hardened somewhat. ‘Fucking prick,’ he said softly. ‘I’ve told him time and time again to warn me before sending you over here when you’re like this.’

‘What are you talking about, Ron?’ Hermione cried. ‘Don’t tell me I’m actually married to him. Please don’t tell me that.’

‘Oh, hello there, Hermione!’ a bright voice said from behind Ron.

Ron grunted unhappily. ‘Lav, please go back into the kitchen.’

‘Why? Oh, come on, Won Won, I haven’t seen Hermione in ages.’

Ron was pushed out of the way into the wall and Hermione’s eyes fell upon Lavender Brown. She was holding a little red-haired baby over her very pregnant belly.

Hermione thought that the phrase ‘fuck my life’ was a vast understatement.