Sold

Draco Malfoy scowled as he drug his fiancé down the path to Hogsmeade village. He held Hermione’s arm at the wrist and took his long stride at double the pace he normally walked, forcing her to scamper to avoid falling. She was wearing muggle blue jeans, a silk top and a velvet blazer that was the same teal as her slightly heeled dress shoes. Her hair was styled nicely with a jeweled barrette holding her massive curls to one side of her face. In short, she looked very pretty and presentable. The hickies he had painstakingly created on her were gone and her complexion was back to an uninterrupted soft golden peach tone. She wasn’t even wearing make-up, but she looked camera ready.

Draco was not upset because she looked beautiful. He was upset because she was wearing those accursed denim pants that all the muggle-borns seemed to favor. He’d been looking forward to humiliating her in the restaurant by playing with her pussy under her skirt and she had defied him and worn those blasted jeans. They made her pert little ass look extremely inviting and they drew attention to the fact that she had lovely child-bearing hips, but they effectively blocked him from having any fun. His mother would not approve of his little games he played with his future wife, so it would have had to happen under the table, but he could have managed it.

When he entered their bedroom from the bathroom that morning, she already had them on. He ordered her to take them off and the little chit had refused. He had back handed her and she actually had the audacity to hit him back. His jaw still stung from where she had landed a particularly good hit on the left side of his face during their scuffle. He had thrown her on the bed, intending to stun her when she had raked her nails across his chest leaving four deep gashes across his perfectly white skin. He had healed both his wounds and although the evidence was no longer visible, he could still feel the sting. The only reason she wasn’t wearing a skirt at the moment was because she reminded him that their luncheon with his mother was going to begin in twenty five minutes, so he had best get dressed. Draco still did not like making his mother upset and she would deem it uncouth of him to damage his property in such a way.

He couldn’t stand the bland expression on Hermione’s face when he himself was in such a sour mood. When they got back tonight, he’d make certain that she regretted defying his orders. Giving her arm a yank, he pulled her close to him and hooked his thumb in the belt loop of her pants to get a better grip on her as they continued walking to their destination.

Leaning down, he hissed into her ear and was delighted to see goose bumps raise on her flesh. “I’m already pissed enough at you as it is, Granger, so if you have any thoughts about complaining to my mother, get them out of your head. Unless of course you’re more of a masochist than I give you credit for and want to double what I’ve got in store for you tonight. When I’m finished with you, you won’t be able to sit on your arse, much less squeeze it into those atrocious things.”

“I wouldn’t dream of telling on you to your mummy,” she calmly replied back. “Besides, I know it wouldn’t do any good. She’s just as much of a nutcase as you are.”

He pulled her to an alcove between two shops and shoved her up against the brick wall, holding her with one arm under her throat. She attempted to kick at him and he shoved one knee between her thighs, wedging himself against her. “You’d do well to remember how much of a nutcase I am and keep your mouth shut. Insult my mother like that again and I’ll pay whatever fine necessary just to have the satisfaction of ripping into you tonight. You’re far too lippy and it’s going to get you hurt. Use that brain that made you head girl. You won’t win anything tied to a bed with two black eyes and a busted lip.”

Draco took immense satisfaction at watching her brown eyes fill with fear. Her little victory this morning had made her bold and stupid. He would squash that as soon as possible. Taking her arm and pulling her back into the street, he thrilled at the slight shaking that rolled off of her. True, his mother frowned upon the vulgar evidence of domestic violence, but she saw no reason why it shouldn’t take place behind closed doors in order to maintain structure within the home. She’d experienced it enough at the hands of Lucius and had allowed it to happen to her son. However, bruises, like public arguments were best left in the lower class as it showed a lack of control over oneself. Narcissa Malfoy believed in never relinquishing her poised control. Draco disagreed with his mother, but since she was the executer of his father’s estate until he turned twenty, he would have to fall in with her line of thinking. The law stated that he could use any means to control his future wife. It was important to Narcissa that although he could take such liberties, he didn’t have to do so.

Entering Madame Puddifoot’s, he saw his mother in the back corner, sipping her tea. There was a photographer and a reporter for the daily prophet sitting close by. When the Malfoy matriarch saw them, she smiled prettily and stood up.

“There you are, my darlings,” she greeted them and hugged Draco and kissed a stiff, but compliant Hermione on the cheek. The sound of a flash bulb went off and Draco took Hermione’s coat and held her chair out for her before sitting down himself and grasping her hand, held it in his on top of the table so the photographer had a good view.

“Hello, Mother, you look very well this afternoon.” Draco could play the stiff aristocrat when need be. He kept thinking about how much more fun this would be if he could have one hand up his intended’s skirt. He loved making her feel powerless and watching her squirm. Then there was the added bonus of getting to fondle an attractive bird.

“Thank you, darling. I must say, I was beginning to wonder where the two of you were.” Narcissa raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at him in reproach.

“Do forgive us, mother. Hermione had some trouble deciding what to wear.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Hermione attempted to remove her hand from his grasp. He held on tight and moved his other arm around her shoulders making her still.

Narcissa eyed them both before speaking. “I see. We’ll have to get her a new wardrobe while we’re in the village. You need to dress according to your station, my dear. Normally Hogsmeade isn’t the best place to go shopping for such things, but fortunately, I have Madame Malkin waiting in Roberta’s Dress Robes.” The pretty older woman took another sip of her tea.

“Why did you drag Madame Malkin all the way Hogsmeade?” Draco asked, taking a bite out of his sandwich.

“Because we need to get your lovely bride’s wedding dress made. Your wedding has been moved up from Friday to Wednesday.”

‘What?” Hermione asked in a shocked whisper.

“I know, my dear. There wasn’t time to plan a proper society wedding before, but now we only have five days including today. There were too many couples getting married on Friday and Saturday so I couldn’t get a ministry official to over see the ceremony. I felly-toned your cousin and he agreed to sign papers allowing you to marry early. If you weren’t muggle-born the two of you would already be married because you are both of age in the wizarding world. The ministry is trying to appease muggle families by making couples wait until they are eighteen to get married. Now, we have a lot of planning to do, so you’ll need to tell me your favorite colors so that I can have the house elves decorate the ball room in that particular scheme. Do you prefer butterflies or doves?” Narcissa was jotting ideas down with a quill and although she was very much aware of Hermione’s shock, she ignored it and pretended that nothing was the least bit out of the ordinary.

“But, my birthday is October 12. That’s this Wednesday. I’ll be of age in both worlds.” Even though it was only two days closer, Draco could feel Hermione shaking in fear or suppressed rage, or both under his arm. He snaked his fingers under the hem line of her blouse and stroked the soft skin of her belly. It wasn’t as intimate as he had hoped, but her skin did feel delightful and it smelled divine. If he didn’t stop thinking about their nights together, he was going to have difficulties hiding his excitement from his mother.

“Ah, but your birthday isn’t until eleven at night. I could only get a ministry official for that morning, so technically, you’ll be underage. Besides, it will be a lovely wedding present. I’m sure that every girl in school wishes she was having the caliber of wedding that you’ll have. After the wedding, Professor Slughorn has allowed for the two of you to remain at the Manor until Saturday evening. You’ll take your honeymoon on the Christmas holiday. I’ve arranged for a trip to Cabo San Lucas in Mexico. If the two of you are finished, we really should be getting to the dress makers.” With that, Narcissa settled the bill and the three were off.


Sitting in the lounge in the back room of Roberta’s Dress Robes, Draco listened to his mother quietly reprimand him. His fiancé was in the back room with Madame Malkin, having her wedding dress created while they waited. He, of course, wasn’t allowed in the back until they were finished because he wasn’t allowed to see her in the dress until the wedding. He was ecstatic that he was going to get to shag Granger on Wednesday. He wanted to put her in her place. However, he couldn’t dwell too long on the particulars of that evening because his mother gave him disturbing news.

“I’m disappointed in you, Draco. I thought I had raised you to have more self-control than to allow your future wife walk around like a battered whore. Where is your sense of pride? The Malfoy family wealth has lasted this long because we know how to take care of what is ours.” Even though she was agitated, Narcissa’s posture showed nothing but cool, mild interest in her surroundings.

“She’s had this coming for years. She’s always walked around with her nose stuck in the air and showing up her betters. Besides, I’m fully within my rights to whatever necessary to make her comply.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean dragging your own name through the mud as well. Do whatever you want behind closed doors, just make certain there’s no evidence of it later. You also need to keep a better watch on her. I’ve found out that she’s been researching the marriage law. You don’t honestly think I couldn’t find a ministry official for the original date do you?” Her sons face told her he had in fact thought this. “When she turns eighteen, there is a period of grace for those betrothed to petition against their future spouse and with her brains, I’m sure she knew that. With her own prestige and closeness to Harry Potter she would have been granted it. Also, Potter himself has been raising a fuss and sighting her many visible injuries and your crass, vulgar treatment of her in public. The law still holds, but if she had been given those two days I’m certain you would no longer have a fiancé. She knows that, that’s why she was so upset at hearing the wedding had been moved up. Our family needs her to improve our public appearances and you’re running around acting like you were raised in the Hogshead Tavern instead of the most prestigious family home in all of Britain.”

Draco digested what mother had just told him. He hated being chastised, but knew she was correct. He had grown very much accustomed to the idea of his life with Hermione and the glee of finally being able to have something Potter desperately wanted and couldn’t have. He enjoyed being able to affect her and have ready access to her. He couldn’t wait and the anticipation was killing him. He had never had to deny himself a girl before, which heightened his sense of urgency to have her. He wanted to keep her, so he silently nodded his agreement to his mother.

“What will we do if they repeal the law?” he asked.

“The Malfoy marriage ceremony is almost certainly unbreakable, but if it should be repealed and your lovely wife should find a counter curse to the spell, I know for a fact that it becomes truly unbreakable if a child is involved. Why do you think I stayed with your father after the first downfall of the Dark Lord? You need to get her pregnant as soon as possible. I’ve bought us enough credibility that with her help our family name will be even more respected than before, but if you muck it up because of petty, school boy vengeance, we will be lower than the Weasleys were before this war and there will be no turning back. You aren’t the kind of boy that would make it on his charm and I don’t look good in cheap fabric. Do not mess this up. Do whatever it takes to force her compliance, cover her in bite marks, beat her, but make certain that no more than one love bite is visible at a time and that in public you treat her like the important person she is to our livelihood.”

With that, Narcissa disappeared behind the curtain and he could hear her fawning over the beautiful girl that had been purchased for him. Once the wedding dress was settled, his mother pulled him into the back room and the two Malfoys picked out an entirely new wardrobe for Hermione. Each piece was sophisticated, yet alluring and most importantly, there were no pants. Draco picked out her underwear and Hermione was subdued through the entire process. He wanted her angry again. She was much more fun when she was fiery and he couldn’t wait to have her underneath him when she was. The only time she showed any emotion was when he told the two seamstresses that he wanted to look at their nightwear. He chose a series of negligees in dark green, red and black. They were scandalous and she wouldn’t be able to answer the door in them, but she would no longer be able to say he forced her to sleep naked. Running his hands over the silk, he imagined how it would feel when it had been warmed by her skin and what it would look like in shreds on the floor.

Their walk back to Hogwarts was less hurried, but he kept his hand firmly locked on her wrist. He still owed her from her defiance this morning. He would just have to be creative in his punishments. Everything that had been purchased that day with the exception of her wedding dress was currently shrunk and in his pocket. It didn’t matter because until Monday morning, she wouldn’t be wearing anything.

Ever since he was thirteen he’d been wondering what her body would look like, what it would feel like under his hands. During his sixth year, when he’d been charged with the impossible task of killing Dumbledore, he had cried in the bathroom to ghost, certain that he was going to die or that his mother would or both. He was disgusted at himself for that weakness. He’d had no desire to kill his former headmaster and he certainly was no murderer, but that didn’t mean he was a saint, either. More than once he’d been tempted to drag her into an empty classroom or the Room of Requirement and either throw her to the floor and brutally take what he wanted or to Imperious her and have her let him run his hands all over that beautiful white skin and instructing her touch him back as he took her again and again while she moaned under him. At least then he could say that he had finally gotten what he wanted before he died.

He was tired of waiting. He had what he wanted with him and his mother had arranged it so that he could get it early. Wednesday wasn’t soon enough. Switching directions, he began to drag her to Professor Slughorn’s office. He needed to talk to his mother. He was going to finally put Granger in her rightful place tonight and he was going to do it legally. All he needed was a ministry official and a few family heirlooms.

a/n- Hello all, and thank you for the reviews. I apologize for taking so long on my updates. I’m about to graduate University and between my exams, comps, job and physical therapy, I’m swamped. I’ll try to boost my updates. On a note, I did not know that Marilyn Shaw was an OC. For some reason I thought she was J.K. created so I changed her name to Daphne in the second chapter. This story isn’t going to be very long and it will not end pleasantly for Hermione. I’ve written the last chapter of ‘After Midnight’, but there are several in between. Thank you to everyone who has left reviews and a big thank you to everyone who reads and reviews all of my stories. I first started writing this past summer and my creative muse has gone into overdrive. Thank you for giving me the opportunity and encouragement. Cheers! G.C.