Holy Water

Thank you for your reviews :). I have about 8 chapters written so far, no beta, but am hoping to write more at some point soon. Any major errors, point them out to me. As far as the Wolfsbane is concerned, the werewolf is still transformed into a wolf, just a tame one. Hermione is working to rid them of the virus completely. And as to who uses the curse "Christ" or a derivative, they are of the muggle world in some way - specifically Harry and Hermione. If anyone else (pureblood, not exposed to the muggle world) uses it, then my apologies, I'll try to fix it.




Upon arrival at Harry and Ginny’s home, Hermione quickly took a shower and changed into her jeans, sitting down to enjoy a pasta dinner. That night, over the meal, the three laughed about old times, their enthusiasm doubling when Ron and Lavender came over in time for wine and dessert. The night slowly moved on, until the sun had set, and the conversation moved to various nieces and nephews. Though Hermione was not married into the family, she was as much a Weasley as Harry or Lavender, and was called ‘aunt’ right alongside them.


Bill and Fleur’s son Robert was off to Hogwarts in just over a week, and the entire Weasley clan was excited. The majority of the kids were being home schooled by their parents and their grandmother, who had already home schooled her own children. The only one not home schooled was Charlie’s daughter Allison, who was a year away from entering Hogwarts herself. She had begged and pleaded her father to allow her to attend muggle school with one of the neighborhood girls, and he had reluctantly agreed. After assurances and a bit of help from Hermione and Harry, they allowed the little girl to learn all about muggle subjects.


Robert had mentioned to Ron that he was worried about what house he would be sorted into – his mother was a Ravenclaw through and through, while his father, and the rest of his family, were all Gryffindors. He didn’t know where he wanted to be, but he didn’t want to upset anyone. Ron reassured him that no matter what house he was sorted into, he would still be family. “Except Slytherin,” he’d muttered, once the young boy was out of earshot. Lavender and Hermione chided him.


The subject ventured into uncharted territory – Hermione’s marriage.

“So what’s it like, being married to the ferret?” Ron asked, dodging a punch from both his sister and his wife. Hermione shrugged and rolled her eyes.

“It’s exactly like being single, except now my last name’s Malfoy. I never go to the manor. He only comes over to report after the meetings, and then leaves. He’s not bad, I think he’s really trying to change. And his father. They’re both extremely polite,” she explained.

“Well, that’s good,” Lavender began cautiously. She had once harbored a raging crush on the blonde Slytherin, and Hermione knew that, even though she loved Ron with her whole heart, a small part of her was insanely jealous that Hermione was married into one of the wealthiest and best-looking families in wizarding Britain. “I was expecting some horror stories, at least.”

Hermione laughed. “The only horror story to tell is that there isn’t one. However, Draco and I do have a date this weekend.” The room stared at her, various states of surprise. “What?” she barked, irritated. “Voldemort thinks he’s not doing a good enough job of courting me and making me complacent enough to spill secrets. We have to put on a show. Dinner and… well who knows what else.”

Ginny started snickering. “I don’t envy your life, hon,” she said, patting Harry’s shoulder with appreciation. “Although you could make out like a bandit with this. Voldemort thinks women are just arm candy, right?” After Hermione’s responding nod, she continued. “I’m not saying blow Malfoy’s money, but you could always get a really nice evening dress out of this, and maybe a nice piece of jewelry. If you have to suffer through this date with him, at least enjoy it.”

Hermione shook her head. “I’d feel indebted to him. I don’t want to have too many ties to him when this war is over and we divorce.”

Ron’s eyes widened. “You’re already talking about divorce? I mean, I know the ferret’s our mortal enemy and whatnot, but aren’t you going to try and make it work?”

She looked bewildered at her friend’s questions. “Why would I try to make it work? This is just a political marriage, nothing more. I don’t love him, and he doesn’t love me. We hate each other, half the time. The rest, we are only cordial because he’s reporting his Death Eater meetings, and I’m stitching him back together.”

“Do you have someone else in mind?” Lavender asked coyly, her eyes sparkling. She loved to play match maker.

“No,” Hermione shot back, a little too quickly. Ginny, seeing the disbelief in the others’ eyes, quickly changed the subject to the twins, and their progress.




A week and a half later, after Hermione had secretly watched Bill’s son be sorted into Gryffindor, she received a call from her mom. Her father was still angry with her, but her mother wanted to meet for lunch. Hermione eagerly agreed.

When the two got together, in a favorite café of theirs, Hermione offered the first tentative smile. When her mother returned it, the two grinned. They had never gone this long without speaking.

“How’s it going?” she asked first, sipping on the tea her mother had ordered.

“We’re doing okay. Your father misses you, but he’s still angry that you’re involved in a war.” Hermione’s father was a pacifist, and hated fighting.

Hermione fell silent, not wanting to get into this discussion. Her mother seemed relieved to get the topic of Harold out of the way.

“So how are you enjoying married life?” Diane asked, tentatively.

A roll of the eyes was her only response. “Mom, I know you don’t like hearing this, but this is nothing more than politics. I don’t love him, he doesn’t love me. Heck, we don’t even like each other! I’m protecting him from Voldemort, and he’s protecting me from some of the more unsavory characters out there.” She didn’t want to go too far into the details. Her mother pursed her lips.

“But you’re going to try and make it work, right?”

“No.”

That was final, and Hermione refused to elaborate. The conversation fell tense and silent for a few minutes. Diane was a devout Catholic, Harold indulged her, but didn’t fall into the same faithful category. Marriage was a lifelong commitment in her book, and not fighting in a huge war was one of his. Hermione had officially broken many rules with her choices.

“I just don’t understand why you’re doing this,” her mother continued in a rushed voice. “I don’t want to push you away, not again. But… I’ve always spoiled you in regards to this magic thing, I suppose. At first I was proud, but then when you didn’t come back to the real world, I got worried. I’d always prayed that you would come back to us, and back to a more… Godly life.”

Hermione shook her head. “Mom, I still believe in God. That will never change. I just… magic is real, in ways that none of us comprehended. I can’t believe God would kick me out of heaven for this, for being what I am. There was never any physical way for me to deny the magic, it’s too strong. I would have destroyed this family and our home had the powers been left unchecked. As far as this marriage is concerned, I don’t think God would hate me for protecting a… friend. My choices are just different from yours, and that’s okay.”

Diane switched the subject when their lunch arrived, but the cheerful mood that had started the afternoon had dimmed. They both left, happy that they were no longer on the outs, but still doubting that things would be like they used to.




That weekend, Draco showed up at her apartment, dressed up quite well. Hermione felt plain next to him in slacks and a blouse, and gritted her teeth.

“I thought it was going to be a casual night out,” she hissed as they strolled through one of the wizarding districts known for its expensive restaurants and shops. He shot her a grin, clearly enjoying her discomfort.

“It is casual, Hermione,” he whispered back. “Just relax. We have dinner reservations in twenty minutes.”
They strolled through the streets, Hermione occasionally catching a glance of someone she knew to be a Death Eater. After the second person, she plastered a smile on her face. If this evening wasn’t to be a total waste, Voldemort had better think she was having the time of her life.

Upon arrival at the restaurant, Hermione felt the disapproving eyes on her, in her plain clothes. The host took their coats, and then seated them at a secluded, candlelit booth. The menu was small, with no prices listed.

“Just order whatever you want,” Draco hissed under his breath as the waiter brought waters for the couple. After appetizers were ordered, a bottle of wine brought out. Hermione knew very little about it, but she enjoyed the incredible flavors with a smile of satisfaction. Draco just watched her.

After about ten minutes of terse commentary, Hermione sighed. “We need to find some common ground. This night is going to be excruciating like this. Tell me, do you like music?”

He shrugged. “I enjoy classical, but not much more. I never had the proper appreciation for the noise of rock music. What about you?”

“I love music,” she responded quietly. “I fall asleep to it, I clean house to it, I study to it,” her voice trailed off. “Okay, so no music. What about movies? You ever watch muggle cinema?”

Draco laughed, waiting until the waiter set their appetizers down, before picking his up and taking a bite. “I surprisingly love it. I’m a huge fan of superhero movies – Batman, Superman, Spiderman, Iron Man. And the James Bond movies. I’m also getting into muggle TV series, those DVDs are amazing. My dad and I are on season two of the Sopranos. What about you?”

Hermione crossed her arms. “I enjoy superhero movies, and the James Bond movies. I’m more into indie flicks, weird shit you don’t see breaking records. And horror movies, I love a good horror movie.”

His eyes lit up. “Horror movies? Like what?”

“Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Psycho, Aliens, The Shining,” she listed. He grinned.

“I absolutely love horror movies. You and I are going to have to have a horror movie marathon. My father refuses to watch them with me, and they’re relatively boring by myself.”

Hermione responded with a grin of her own. “All right, you’re on.”

Dinner continued with relative ease, talking about various movies and TV shows. Hermione admitted that she enjoyed the Sopranos, while Draco reluctantly confessed his love of a new TV show called True Blood. Only the pilot episode had aired, but he was already hooked. Hermione promised to catch it and watch the series.

The time flew so quickly that when the meal was over, she was genuinely shocked. “That was nice,” she commented as they stood to leave. Draco hooked an arm through hers, guiding her through the door. He was clearly loving this charade.

“We’re not done yet. We’re going to the opera next month, and you need something nice to wear.”

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but he had already dragged her onto the street, which was a bit more crowded. She slammed her mouth shut again, any good mood evaporated.

“Draco Malfoy,” she muttered in a low voice, knowing he could hear her. “I’m going to murder you. This isn’t funny. I hate going clothes shopping, and I hate the opera. Why would I want to do both?”

Silence was her response as he dragged her into a shop. There was only one other woman inside, and the moment she saw Draco, she flitted to his side.

“Mister Malfoy, is there anything I can do for you today?”

“Yes,” he said, laying on the charm. “My wife and I are attending the opera next month, and she’s insisting on a new gown. Something classy, but stylish, I think. Right love?”

“Of course,” she smiled back, sweetly. The woman looked Hermione up and down, and then demanded that she remove the jacket. A measuring tape was brought out, and she began to catalogue all of the brunette’s dimensions. After a minute and a half of Hermione shooting Draco nasty looks over the woman’s bent head, she strode off, returning with three dresses.

Hermione dutifully walked to the dressing room, trying on the first of the three. It was beige, and entirely too gaudy and layered. It was almost avant garde, and Hermione felt like a child, being dressed in a tacky old dress that a well-meaning grandmother had bought her for Christmas.

She showed it off, but before she or Draco could say anything, the woman shook her head. “You are too short for this dress, love. Next.”

By the third dress, Hermione was feeling her mood push beyond the boundaries of irritated. It was a soft blue, and after a bit of adjusting, she caught her reflection and sucked in a breath. The dress was beautiful. Its blue shades shimmered into lighter and darker blues. Thousands of small gemstones were seamlessly woven in swirling lines across the waist and down the front.

“Hermione, are you coming out?” Draco called. She murmured a reply, before stepping through the curtain. The woman grinned, nodded her approval, before twirling her finger in a circle, indicating for Hermione to turn. Draco was silent.

“Yes, you must get that one, darling. It’s perfect, you have such a beautiful hourglass shape.”

Hermione smiled, running her hands over the soft fabric. “Well, Draco?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, we’re getting that one. Come along.”

The seamstress pulled a bit at various ends, and made notes about what to take in, and what to let out. After another few minutes, she motioned for Hermione to remove the dress, then began talking in hushed tones with Draco. Hermione didn’t really care to know what they were saying. Pulling back on her slacks and blouse was kind of anti-climactic. Suddenly, she couldn’t wait for the opera, if for nothing more than the chance to wear the dress.

As they left, Draco was suddenly silent. Hermione didn’t feel like filling the space with idle chatter; she wasn’t very good at it. Draco apparated her back to her apartment, and left with barely a word.
Hermione pushed it out of her mind, not really caring what his problem was.




As Draco sank onto the couch at home, he flicked on the TV and groaned. Hermione was undeniably pretty. That much he had known since she’d matured, towards the end of their time at Hogwarts. It wasn’t until he just saw her in that dress that he realized how much he wanted her. It had been nothing more than a growing fascination, until earlier today.

Lucius walked into the room, sitting on the chair, his feet kicked up, as they watched the next episode of Sopranos. Draco didn’t feel like elaborating on his own preoccupations, not just yet. He’d probably tell his father at some point, but right now, the words sounded cheesy. Yeah, dad, I’ve got a huge crush on my wife. What should I do? He snorted, then ignored the curious look his dad shot his way.

And slowly, a plan began to formulate. He might have to compete with Severus, but right now, he had an advantage. As long as this war raged on, Hermione wouldn’t sleep with the professor.

He had until Voldemort was defeated to win her over to his side. While several of the tricks he’d begun to imagine were a bit devious, he was still a Slytherin, and not above such tactics. Draco decided that he’d get started – tomorrow.




Hermione made sure she was well-rested the next day. She and Draco would rematch during training tonight, and she wanted to be in top form.

As everyone filed into the training room, Hermione stretched her legs, checking around her person and making sure everything was in place. She had spent three months training with Severus in the use of knives. Her skill was still mediocre at best, but it was good enough to distract someone until she could unleash the combo attacks.
She had studied Draco, and knew where his weaknesses were. She’d head for those areas.

The room filled up quickly, and Lucius began detailing what he wanted everyone to work on. He would be teaching new curses next week after he had a firm grasp of each member’s weakness. Severus, having been informed of Hermione and Draco’s rematch, pitted the two against one another.

And the duels began. The two instructors kept a watchful eye on Hermione and Draco. They each threw rather nasty curses, both shielding and dodging each other. Draco was much more set on keeping her from the focus she needed for the three-fold attack, while Hermione was slowly inching forward. He unconsciously backed into a wall, and Hermione leapt.

A knife was in her hand before he could realize what was coming. Draco, at the silvery glint off the blade, paused to defend against her slashing blow. She got a deep gash into his right bicep, and another slice on his leg had him shouting out expletives.

She unleashed her magic, throwing him to the floor, knocking his wand away, and pinning his hands to his side. Leaping up, she was straddling his chest, her knife at his throat, her wand at his temple before anyone could blink.

“Duel’s over,” Severus called, and Hermione leapt away, the knife disappearing back into the strap on her ankle. She examined the two cuts she had made on his flesh, nodding with satisfaction when she saw that they weren’t life threatening. The spell on his body was released, and he was finally able to shoot her a dark look.

“I didn’t know we could use knives,” he muttered, examining his torn clothes and skin. Hermione waved her wand, healing the cuts, ignoring his glares.

“You’re just a sorry loser,” she shot back, briefly reveling in the moment. It was unlikely that she’d win a third time. She had no new tricks to pull out, and Draco would, undoubtedly, hold nothing back next time.

Harry came over, slipping his hand around her waist. “You’ll learn not to mess with Hermione,” he joked. “She’s got quite a few tricks up her sleeve.”

Draco watched, slowly flexing his arm, testing the healing job, though he knew it would’ve been nearly perfect. He was jealous of the arm Harry had slung around Hermione’s waist, and felt fairly idiotic. Here he was, married to the brunette, and Harry had more rights to touch her than he did.

He sneered, moving to stand. Severus had something to say about their performances, this time congratulating Hermione for making use of everything she knew. Draco made note of that – he doubted she would best him the third time around. The group was released, and Hermione followed Draco out. He heard her mentioning to the others that she was headed home.

Tonight was the night his father would be faking his death. He had prepared a potion with Severus, one that would effectively stop his bodily functions and mimic death of all but the brain. Draco was relatively nervous, as long as nobody cast an avada kedavra on his father’s corpse, the man would be able to survive this in tact. Voldemort never really cared for those that died – Lucius was banking on Draco being called to fetch the body.
When he apparated back to the manor, Severus followed. The two sank into a comfortable silence, Draco watching TV, and Severus reading a book. It was mindless, but Severus tensed when Draco’s hand clenched. The Dark Mark burned.

Grabbing his robes, he apparated from the foyer off the premises.

Upon arriving, he immediately knelt, waiting for Voldemort to allow him up. When he saw the pale blonde hair, laying limply on the floor, he nearly choked. No emotion was displayed however. The entire procession took probably less than twenty minutes, Voldemort explaining the training accident that took his father’s life.

He apparated away, body in tow, and carefully arranged the limbs on the couch. By the time he was done, his fingers were feeling numb, and it took every ounce of concentration to keep from shaking.

“Are you okay?” Severus asked quietly. He was checking over Lucius’ body, nodding satisfactorily.

“Yeah,” Draco muttered, pulling the mask and cloak off. “I’m going out, tell my father I’ll be back later.”

With that, he strode from the room, apparating off the property. It took a moment to realize he’d apparated to Hermione’s apartment, but he supposed it wasn’t unexpected. She had been on his mind quite a bit lately.

“Draco?” she called out, walking into the room. She dropped the wards, allowing him to come in. This was the first time he wasn’t in Death Eater robes, and she was confused. “Was there a meeting?”

“Yeah,” he nodded quietly, striding to the kitchen to make a cup of tea.

“I assume you’re not hurt, or you’d have come here right after.”

He rolled his shoulders, not really sure what he wanted to say. “My father “died” tonight,” he started, preparing two cups of tea. He made sure he knew how she liked hers, before walking into the living room and sitting in the chair. “I guess I could tell you about it, if you want. Nothing much to report. I just had to get out of there. I hope you don’t mind.”

Hermione just stared, her brow furrowing. She was incredibly shocked. He never even stuck around after his reports, and their small talk had always been awkward and forced. Aside from the times they had gone out on dates, to satisfy Voldemort, they had not interacted by choice. And now here he was, if she could understand correctly, looking for company? Or a place to hide?

She realized he was just staring at her, waiting for a response.

“Oh, uhh, sure. You are more than welcome to stay. Want to watch a movie?”

He shrugged, then stood and looked over her movie rack. There was a large collection of both TV shows, and movies. When he finally picked Jurassic Park, she ventured a wide grin. Who would’ve thought, Draco Malfoy, enjoying a movie about dinosaurs. Nevertheless, she turned it on, sipping the tea in silence.

As the movie wore on, the two shifted from their tense seating positions, into more relaxed postures. By the time it was over, Hermione had almost forgotten he was there. When the credits started however, she sighed and stood. “I need to make dinner, would you like any?”

“What are you making?” he asked cautiously. She rolled her eyes, and walked into the kitchen, perusing the items in her cabinets, before shrugging.

“Pasta?” she called back. “I can make a good spaghetti pretty quickly.”

“Sure, why not.” He put in another movie, this time she thought she heard the opening of the second Jurassic Park. Hermione was glad for the chance to think, as she stared around her, confused. She gathered that Draco had no friends, aside from his father, and the occasional conversation with Blaise or Pansy. She wasn’t sure why he sought this place out, but shrugged it off. Maybe he just needed out of the manor. That was a bit odd, the place probably had four dozen rooms, plenty of space to go and hide with.

After the dinner was cooked, and she had yet to either hear a word from him, or come up with a valid reason for his presence, she decided to let it be. He came in and dug through her pantry, producing a Pinot Noir, and pouring each of them glasses. A grin was shot her way, and she merely shook her head.

“I have to say Draco, you coming here is a bit confusing. Not that I don’t mind, I mean, you’re decent company when you aren’t a sore loser.”

“Oh don’t start with me. You know I can kick your ass any day,” he shot back, grabbing a plate and helping himself to dinner and some salad. The two picked up where he’d paused the movie, Hermione not minding missing the first thirty minutes. She had seen this movie dozens of times, and probably could recite it line for line.

“Like I said, sore loser,” she muttered, flopping into the couch. “You’re avoiding the question.”

“There wasn’t a question in there, Granger,” he shot back, not bothering to stop and correct himself. “And the reason I’m here is because I really don’t have anywhere else to go, and I figured you’d be the least likely to make a fuss. Besides, we’re married. We should spend some time together.”

“Not a Granger anymore,” she retorted in a sing-song voice, unable and really unwilling to come up with a better comeback. The food was getting cold. She dug in.

“True,” he conceded. “So, how does it feel to be a Malfoy, anyway?”

It was a touchy subject, Hermione’s new last name. The Malfoy name had always meant pure, influential, and rich. Hermione was the epitome of everything the name wasn’t supposed to mean, and she often times found herself wishing that she’d kept her own last name. It wouldn’t provide a good front for the rest of the world, though, and so she’d changed her name to Hermione Jean Malfoy. Ugh, she thought.

“The same as it felt to be a Granger, except now people give me even funnier looks. And introducing myself as Hermione Malfoy still doesn’t roll quite naturally off the tongue.”

He laughed, loudly, and the more he went on, the more difficult it seemed for him to control it. He set the wine glass down on the side table, doubling over with laughter.

“Only you,” he sputtered, “could find the most influential name in the wizarding world a bother. I’d have expected you would use your new found power to save the werewolves, or something. Or, what was it? House elves?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m over the house elves, really, I am. And the werewolves, I’m working on that. I don’t need your name to do my research.”

He lifted the glass in her direction, in a sort of “cheers”. “We should do this more often,” he said, occasionally letting out a chuckle. “You’re funny, and unless the Weaslette’s husband decides to finish Voldemort any time soon, we’re stuck for quite a while.”

That sobered her up. She didn’t want to think about that. She’d hoped that the marriage would last less than two years, three at the most. If it stretched on for five, or more, she shuddered at the possibility.
He caught that movement. “Well, you could always get back with Severus. Don’t let the whole… married thing stop you.”

She shook her head. “It wouldn’t feel right. I’m already breaking quite a few of my long held beliefs by walking into this with the intention of divorcing you, I don’t think I could bear thinking of myself as an adulterer.”

Draco rolled his eyes, grimacing around a mouthful of food. How graceful, she thought snidely. “Big scarlet A? Don’t worry, adultery is fairly common in the wizarding world. It’s a French influence, I think. Most marriages are fairly open, at least in private.”

Blood rushed to her cheeks, and Hermione felt a need to divert from this topic, quickly. “So, how’s the food?” she asked blandly, not caring that it was a pathetic attempt. He agreed with her tactic, and the two moved on.

After the second movie, Draco saw himself out. Once more, he seemed like he was on the verge of saying something, before leaving without a backwards glance. Hermione glanced into the kitchen, smiling at the dishes that had been washed. He insisted that, since she cooked the meal and entertained him for the evening, the least he could do was make sure there wasn’t any clean up afterwards.

Not one for passing up a golden opportunity, she’d watched him do the dishes, making jokes about rich boys knowing how to do chores, which left him laughing, at least a little bit.

That night, she sank into bed, thankful that her husband was turning out to be a decent friend in all this. At least she had an ally in him. She pushed away that nagging voice that rudely asked her if maybe this could be more than friendship, if she could actually fall for him.




It had become almost a weekly occurrence, Draco’s presence in her apartment. Sometimes he brought dinner, sometimes she cooked it, and once, he’d helped himself to her muggle kitchen, growing more and more frustrated every time she had to explain something to him. Dinner was always accompanied with wine, and he never refuse the opportunity to make fun of her for not knowing a thing about it.

Of course, he made sure she picked up a few tips along the way. What wines went well with what, how the different types were made and what they had in them, things like that. She enjoyed learning about it, and often took the opportunity to show him what she’d picked up. Rarely did he have something to say about her pairing choice.

They’d long since blown through her movie collection, and his, and had moved on to various TV shows. She tended towards more serious things, such as Law and Order, while he loved the drama of Sopranos, and the joking style of various cartoons, such as Family Guy.

Lucius had awoken from his “death sleep” without a hitch, and though his Dark Mark still burned on occasion, Severus didn’t think there was anything to worry about. Voldemort never suspected foul play, not amongst his most loyal followers. Draco had held a small funeral, only inviting close family. Hermione had not attended, and nobody expected her to. Word had spread amongst the wizarding world, Lucius Malfoy was dead. Both of Draco’s parents had fallen to tragic accidents, what would become of the heir, and his new wife?

The Malfoy elder hung around Hogwarts, under a constant glamour potion, and was having the time of his life. He enjoyed playing the slightly mental new assistant to both the potions professor, and the defense against the dark arts professor. Within two weeks into the semester, the entire student body knew of Professor Rethborne, and his eccentric ways. During Order meetings, Lucius often dropped his façade, the grey hair making its way back to blonde, the dark, leathery wrinkles fading back to his smooth skin. Draco was much paler than his father, having inherited his mother’s alabaster skin tone, and a combination of his father’s tall stature, and his mother’s rather lanky frame.

Hermione hadn’t recognized the old man the first time she had seen him. The potion had him half a foot shorter, though still several inches taller than her. His body had loosened up and gained about fifteen pounds, and he’d gained nearly seventy years. While his Professor Rethborne form was nowhere near as ancient as Albus, he was old by muggle standards.

He had walked in, his step swaggering, and his grin crooked. “Can I help you, young lady?” he’d asked in a distinctly American drawl.

She blushed, stepping back and gesturing to her notes. “Sorry, I’m a business partner of Severus’. I’ve just come to check on our work.”

“What’re you workin’ on, darlin’?”

“Oh, we’re testing out new ingredients in some old potions,” she murmured, a bit put off by this character. Finally, sensing her discomfort, he let out a laugh.

“Don’t worry, it’s just me.” His voice was one she remembered, and she shot him a withered look. “Like the new form? Severus, Albus, and I designed it. Sometimes a bit stiff, if I do say so, but I enjoy myself. I help Severus and that wolf out with their classes, sometimes taking the younger years courses.”

She sighed, turning and checking on her measurements. “Glad to know things are going well, Lucius. Shall I see you at the training tonight?”

“Of course,” he replied, shooting her an overly dramatic bow. This side of him she was almost uncomfortable with. Since Narcissa’s death, and his own subsequent fake funeral, he had really loosened up. He was playful, and often joked around. She could see the stress melting away. It had been weeks since he’d been to a revel, and even longer since he’d decided that he wouldn’t go down with the Death Eaters.

As Hermione watched the change in him, she could also see one in Draco. They never spoke of his mother, but she could sense things getting a bit easier, as time went on. As they should. He could see the way his father was, and that seemed to have a huge impact on him. He rarely let the stress of the meetings get him down, and was almost always back to normal a day later.

Hermione found a genuine friend in him, though she was a bit slower to be comfortable with his father.
One thing she noticed, however, was that as Draco came around more and more, Severus did so less and less. It irritated her, but she refused to say anything about it. She hadn’t told Ginny anything about Draco’s visits, and didn’t feel like burdening her friend with the knowledge. She felt like there was no one to talk to about it. Severus had never been the talking type, and she doubted there would be any answers out of him.

Still, one night when he came after a revel, she finally asked him why he was there less and less. He’d shrugged, brushing it off in a manner that infuriated her.

“Don’t give me that “I don’t know” bullshit,” she snapped as he made a pot of tea. “You’re avoiding me, and you’re avoiding the question.”

He’d turned, his glare dark enough to melt steel. She refused to turn her gaze away.

“Look. You and I had a pretty hard time staying away from each other. I know how much it’ll bother me if we… indulge, again. Draco is my godson, and the Malfoy men are the only family I have left. I think it’s best if I keep a distance. I find it hard to mind my manners around you.”

Hermione had no response to that, and turned away. He had that look in his eyes again, the one that made lust pool inside her. She glanced down at the diamond ring, cursing it, but it enabled her to turn and walk away. Five minutes later, he sat down next to her on the couch, this time more composed. They didn’t talk much, but neither really needed to.

A short while later, he left. Hermione was sad to see him go, but she kept the tears at bay until he had been gone for a while. Then she broke down, slipping the ring off her finger, and setting it gently on the table. Hermione sank into the couch and let herself cry, staring between the ring and her hand, wishing it all would go away.




They hadn’t been paired up to fight in nearly three months. Severus stuck them together, a nasty gleam in his eyes. Hermione grimaced, while Draco grinned. It was payback time.

“All bets are off, Granger,” he said, a grin on his face. “The only thing we aren’t allowed to use is the killing curse. Ready?” She hoped he didn’t mean that he might shoot the cruciatus, that might be too much. Of all the curses, she hated that one the most.

She shot back a smile, not revealing how nervous she was. She had several knives today, though she had a feeling there wouldn’t be an opportunity to use them. Lucius gave them the word, and the fight began. Draco immediately started by conjuring about a dozen snakes, directing them all at her with a wave of his wand. Harry was all the way across the room, or he would’ve gladly commanded the snakes to leave. As it was, Hermione barely had time to shoot several stunners out, her other hand filled with a knife as she fended off the ones that lunged.

Draco had already sent three spells her way, all of which she barely blocked, with little grace and even less confidence. Before he could send another wave of something like the snakes her way, she focused herself. The control wasn’t quite there, with her magic, but she managed to summon enough to throw two spells silently at him. He carefully deflected them, though she managed to knock his spare wand out of the way. It had been tucked into his boot, and she narrowed her eyes.

She threw a few curses back at him, just to put him back on defense, while she built her energy back up. The two dueled, darting around the room as other groups finished off, moving out of the warpath. When it was just the two of them left, Draco started cursing in French. He was shouting, letting loose streams of words she could barely understand. She couldn’t tell what was a curse anymore and what was just a word. That left her doing nothing but dodging his magic, shouting obscenities when a spell got too close for comfort.

Finally, she simply unleashed all of her energy, her magic, in the most basic, physical form. It only took a second to reach him, but a desk in the way was instantly blown into the wall, shattering into pieces. Draco had a moment to react, but all he was able to do was shield himself and hope to absorb the blow.

Hermione watched with a moment of triumph, but was instantly horrified when he shouted a spell she had never heard before, and all of a sudden she was flying backwards, the air thrown viciously from her body with a boom that reverberated through her ears, or the room, she couldn’t tell which. Splitting pain erupted all over, and when she could see again, Draco was crouching next to her body, his wand inches from her head.

“Done,” Lucius shouted, and Draco grinned.

“Bet you didn’t see that one coming, did you, love,” he whispered, withdrawing his wand and grinning broadly. “Doesn’t feel good, does it?”

“No,” she choked out, sucking in air. Her lungs burned, and she felt like she would need to have some bones or ribs reset. “Rematch,” she whispered back, and he laughed.

Severus appeared at her side, holding out a hand. She waved it off, instead pushing herself into a sitting position. Her muscles burned, and she just wanted to stay there, but everyone in the room was chatting, keeping an eye on her. They knew how she hated being the center of attention, and so were only pretending to not watch her for her reaction. A full outburst was expected, but Hermione hadn’t the energy to do it.

A minute later, she finally took a good look at the two men around her. Draco looked like the cat who caught the mouse, and Severus looked torn between worried and amused. When she glared at the two of them, he settled for amused. She stood, and Draco’s arm immediately came around her waist to support her.

Severus gave her hand a squeeze and stepped back, and Hermione felt a huge shift. She was extremely aware of the two standing right by her, her gut telling her that something was not okay anymore. The dark haired man moved away to go talk to Lucius, who was staring at her, his eyes solemn and dark. He’d seen it too, though she didn’t think he fully understood the power shift that had taken place.

Is that asshole really conceding to Draco? They’re acting like this is some goddamn contest. Don’t I get to choose? I’ll let him know exactly what I have to say, later. She was furious with Severus, for the way he had squeezed her hand, looked at Draco, and walked away. To the outside world, it was nothing. To those who knew him as well as the Malfoy family did, it was a thanks, and a concession.

Luckily, everyone else had taken their eyes off the scene. Draco’s arm was still around her waist, though she was sure she could stand on her own. She said as much, growled under her breath. He rolled his eyes, squeezing her tightly and releasing her.

“I have to say, Granger, that was pretty powerful, what you did there,” he commented, hands in his pockets.

“It’s not very effective, and really difficult to control,” she responded, cracking her neck. Feeling was returning to all limbs, and she didn’t think anything was broken, not anymore. Harry came over to congratulate Draco, critically appraising Hermione’s stance to make sure she wasn’t favoring anything, hiding injuries to take the attention off her.

The two sauntered off to talk, not quite comfortably. Things were still tense between the two rivals, but they were willing to put it aside for the sake of their cause. Hermione was thankful.

“Hey, Mione,” Ron said, gently patting her back. She winced, and he pulled his hand away. “You coming to the dinner tonight?” She quickly racked her brain, before remembering that it was time for the monthly Weasley dinner.

“Yeah, I’ll be there. Tell Molly,” she said, as Harry and Draco walked up.

Draco shot her a questioning glance, wondering where she was going to be. He’d secretly hoped to come over to her apartment tonight, he had picked out a vampire movie, Underworld, she might like. Hermione had a weakness for vampire movies, and this one would hopefully do the trick.

Harry caught the glance, and briefly paused. “You want to come along, Draco?” he asked the blonde, his voice a bit strained. Hermione felt a flash of love for him. These nights were their havens, and they were willing to open them up to someone they didn’t like, just for her.

“Yeah, mum would love to formally meet you. Hermione’s practically another Weasley, kinda like Harry,” Ron said, his voice laced with warning. Come meet the nearly two dozen people who will rip you to pieces if you ever hurt me, she supplemented nastily.

“Sure,” Draco responded, shrugging. “I don’t know if I’ll stay the whole time, I was hoping to catch up with my father this weekend.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, turning away and leaving the room wordlessly. She was angered. What if it had been Severus she’d married? Would they be as welcome of the ‘greasy git’? Even though he wasn’t greasy, nor was he a git (well, at least not to Hermione), she had a feeling that most of them would’ve met the choice with surprise, maybe even revulsion. Severus was the one she wanted, and yet, here her friends and family were, accepting and encouraging her to “make this work” with Draco.

She angrily stalked to the front gates of the school, using various back passageways so as not to be seen by the students. The Order members were asked to floo directly to the meeting room, but occasionally one or two of them needed a few moments alone, and hiked the hill off Hogwarts’ premises.

Just as she was about to hit the doors outside, Draco caught up to her, his hurried footsteps ringing off the corridor. He opened the door, and the bright sunlight flooded her eyes.

“You okay with me going to the Weasley’s? I think they’re just including me because… well, everyone our age goes to these party… things.”

“Neville and Luna don’t go,” she pointed out crossly.

“Why not?”

She stopped, not entirely sure why not. Suddenly, she felt a bit ashamed that they’d never been invited.

“I don’t know. But I’m going to invite them, tonight. They’re as much family as I am.”

They walked in silence, Hermione slowing her angry stomping to a much easier pace to enjoy the afternoon sun.

“You didn’t answer my question. Are you okay with me going?”

She sighed, turning to face him. The sun was off to the side, so she propped her hand up alongside her face to block out the rays. “I don’t mind, not really. I just… I don’t like being in the middle of fights, and you tend to bring out the worst in a lot of the Weasley men.”

He paused, considering it for a minute, before shrugging. “I’ll behave, I promise.”

Hermione smiled, a small one. She was still upset at Severus’ display earlier.

“What else is on your mind?”

She briefly debated telling him, unsure of what the ramifications could be. Does it matter to him? Does he want to give us a chance too? Would I hurt him by reiterating the fact that I still prefer the professor, and not my husband?

And suddenly, she realized her mind had already made the decision – words were already spilling from her mouth. “-and the way he just… kind of stepped away. I don’t really understand what he thinks he’s doing. This isn’t anything real, this marriage. I just don’t like feeling like I’m some fucking prize in a contest, and Severus just stepped down.”

“Stepped down?”

She glanced down. “Stepped down, leaving you to go ahead and try for first place.”

He was silent for a few moments, before shrugging, his mouth twisted into a half-grin. “I highly doubt that was his intention,” he said, and she felt immense relief. “Severus has very rarely been the self-sacrificing type. If he really wants you, and I suspect he does, I doubt he’ll so graciously step out of the way for someone else to take charge.”

With that, the two reached the front gates and the apparation point. Draco promised to meet up at her apartment in several hours so she could show him the way to the Burrow.

Hermione took a long, and hot shower, trying to soothe away the pains in her muscles, rubbing a potion into the sore spots to relieve the tension. She thought back to Severus’ move earlier, this time through slightly rosier glasses. Draco had quickly laughed it off, and that lightened the mood immensely. Now she felt foolish. Severus wasn’t giving up on her.




As the two trudged up the walk to the Burrow, Hermione felt her foul mood disappear. The home was teeming with people. She spotted Neville and Luna, and was glad they’d received her invite. As the stepped into the home, several children tore through the living room, only a few stopping to say hi. Charlie and Alyssa’s daughter held up her hands to be picked up, giggling the whole time.

“Aunt Hermione!” she exclaimed. She placed her hands on Hermione’s cheeks, meeting the older woman’s gaze with her own blue eyes. Alyssa followed suit, almost out of breath.

“Oh good God, you caught it,” she said, coming over to take Jessica. “I’ve been trying to catch her for ten minutes, but she keeps dodging me through people.” The little girl squirmed, but allowed herself to be handed over.

“Who’s this?” Alyssa asked, suddenly making note of the blonde standing just behind Hermione. It was a polite way of opening for an introduction; she knew who he was.

Draco smiled, reaching out his hand to shake hers. “My name’s Draco Malfoy. I’m an old schoolmate of Hermione, Harry, and Ron’s.” Hermione noticed he didn’t introduce himself as her husband. She was glad, it meant that this didn’t feel like a real marriage to him either.

Alyssa smiled, shook his hand, and winked at Hermione. “All right doll, Molly’s out back, setting up the tables. Amanda, Carrie, and Fleur are off getting wood for the bonfire later. I think Trey, Allison, and Austin are off with them. They’re all jealous because Robert got to go off to Hogwarts, and they didn’t.”

Hermione laughed, before striding out back. “Everyone’s required to see Molly when they get here. She loves to keep up on family gossip.”

Sure enough, the witch was organizing the picnic tables, making sure there was enough space for the food and the guests. Molly hugged the brunette, then offered a warm handshake for Draco, not wanting to make him uncomfortable with a hug. She asked Hermione a few questions about her research, avoiding the topic of her married life. Those were reserved for later, when she got Hermione alone.

She shooed them away, resuming her ordering. Arthur was giving her encouraging words, while holding Sirius on his lap. The three month olds were capturing the attention of quite a few people, and Ginny was glad for the break she got while everyone passed them around.

“This is a lot of people,” Draco whispered hovering right at her side. He only really knew Harry and Ron, and he wasn’t really on friendly terms with them. “What do you guys do?”

“Eat, drink, talk, have fun,” she replied. He nodded solemnly, and decided that an evening of following Hermione around wouldn’t be too bad. Maybe someone would be interested in having a chat.

As the night wore on, Draco found himself likened to most of these people. Percy was a right nasty git, though his wife seemed to offer him an apologetic smile every now and then. He also had never like Lavender during school, though she was much more mature these days. Charlie had invited he and Hermione out to Romania, and had engaged Draco in quite a lengthy discussion on the different breeds of dragons he kept out there.

Draco found that he most enjoyed the part where all the kids were put to bed and the adults sat around the bonfire. They all traded various stories and jokes, and he found himself laughing right alongside Hermione. When it was time to leave, he got several handshakes, and invites back to the next one, which he hoped to attend. This would be a good way to dig himself so firmly into Hermione’s life, that once the war was over, there was no pulling him out.

The two apparated back to her apartment, and Hermione yawned, stretching. Draco grinned. “I’m surprised you lasted all evening, with the beating you took earlier,” he teased. She rolled her eyes.

“Are you going home yet?” she said grumpily, but with a grin so he knew she wasn’t serious. He turned to walk by her door, and then abruptly stopped, turning back to her.

“You were right, about Severus earlier. I do think that’s what he meant. And, as childish as it may sound, I’m grateful. I want a chance to get to know you, all of you, and I can’t do it with this shadow of Severus hanging over me all the time. So yeah, I think you’re caught in the middle of a fight, and I intend to do everything in my power to win.”

Hermione was dumbfounded. What? “What? That’s ridiculous! And not even fair! Don’t I get a choice in this stupid game?”

Draco smiled, but it wasn’t filled with humor, like his lips normally were. “Nothing’s fair. But you know what? He has an advantage, he already knows you better than I could ever dream of. He knows exactly how to get you, and keep you. So I’m going to take advantage of his attempts to be fair. You’re Hermione Malfoy now, Lady Malfoy. I think I want you to stay that way.”

He strode forward, capturing her lips in a hard kiss, pulling her flush against him. Hermione froze, not responding, but not pushing away, either. He held her there for a few more seconds, before turning and leaving.

Hermione stood stock still for many minutes after he left, not sure of what to do. This is a disaster! What am I supposed to do?

She went to bed that night, flustered, confused, and cursing Severus for trying to be noble and share. I don’t bloody want to be shared. I know who I want. I’ll just have to let Draco know that it’s no contest, so he’d better start shopping elsewhere.