Sold

Hermione’s heart pounded in terror. She wasn’t fooled by Narcissa’s charade that she couldn’t find a ministry official. Somehow she knew of Hermione’s research and of Harry’s meddling. She might as well resign herself to the fate that she was in fact going to be married to Draco Malfoy. He wasn’t speaking to her at the moment so Hermione used this time to compose herself and start thinking of what her options were. She had three days to figure out the Malfoy marriage charm and ways out of it. This law could not and would not last for long. Malfoy had initially started towards the headmaster's office with her, but changed his mind and drug her to their rooms and stormed through the portrait door, by-passing Zabini on the common room couch. Her cheeks burned at the thought of what Blaise had seen and done the night before.

When Draco threw her into the room, she tensed her body, ready to fight back if he really was going to launch an attack of physical abuse. To her surprise, he let her go and looked her up and down a moment before stating, “Don’t leave this room until I get back. I’ve got business to take care of.” Just like that he was gone.

Heaving a great sigh, Hermione got off the bed and walked to the door, intending to leave and research the Malfoy family in the library, but as soon as her hand touched the door knob, she felt a shock go through her arm. Pulling out her wand, she found that it was currently useless as well. Huffing, she went to her desk and pulled out a book to start reading.

Several hours later, it was ten thirty and Draco still had not come back. She took down her hair and was about to get ready for bed when an owl knocked on her window. Opening the window, she let the bird in and took the note from its beak. The envelope was addressed to her and when she opened it, she saw a beautiful white gold, antique diamond ring with intricate knot work as a setting. Cupping her hand she poured the ring into her palm and felt a lurch as the pulling sensation from a port key flowed over her body.

When she finally stopped spinning, she looked up and saw the largest, Georgian Mansion she’d ever seen. The house was a beautiful sandstone color with ivy crawling all over it. She looked from her position on the veranda towards the front gate. It was black wrought iron and had a large ‘M’ in the middle. No doubt she was at Malfoy Manor. While she stood there gaping at her surroundings, a tiny house elf appeared and tugged on her hand.

“New mistress will please come with me,” it said. Hermione took the tiny creature’s hand and allowed herself to be led into the large house.

The elf took her across a white marble entryway and up a grand staircase. Everything was opulent and bright. Hermione had expected a gothic style mansion with hideous gargoyles and foreboding entryways. Was this really Malfoy Manor? She decided to ask.

“Excuse me,” she addressed the tiny creature holding her hand. “Is this Malfoy Manor?”
“No, this is Malfoy dowager house. You will be getting married here. New Malfoy brides are not allowed to stay the night in the Manor until they become mistress.”

‘So that’s what this is about,’ thought Hermione. Narcissa probably wanted to talk about color schemes. Trust a Malfoy to force herself on somebody instead of inviting them. She decided she would play nice. The less resistance she offered, the more they would back off and leave her to her own devices and she would find a way out of this mess. The hallway she was in had a plush cream colored carpet with gold trim on the edges. Portraits of what she supposed to be former Malfoys lined the walls as she passed door after door. Finally coming to the end of the hall, the house elf dropped her hand and knocked on the ornate door.

‘Come in,” rang out the sweet voice of her future mother in-law. Her voice was starting to make Hermione shiver.

“New mistress is here, madam,” said the little creature as she bowed low before the tall blonde witch.

“Ah, wonderful, Doodle. You may leave us,” Narcissa dismissed the house elf and returned to her task. The bed was covered in ornate, glittering jewelry. Hermione’s wedding dress was on a dress dummy in the middle of the room. Narcissa was using her wand to try different pieces of jewelry on the neckline of the dummy to see what would go best.

“Why am I here, Mrs. Malfoy?” Hermione cautiously, but assertively asked.

“You are here so that I can put your wedding dress together. We don’t have much time. I got Professor Slughorn’s permission, dear so don’t worry about a thing. Besides, you are one of his darling pupils, as was I in my years Hogwarts, so I’m certain that he’ll let you slide for shirking your head girl duties for the evening. Since I now have you here, put the dress on and let’s see which pieces suit you best.” Narcissa was still being very pleasant as if Hermione was joining the family after a normal courtship. She would rather have the witch be forceful, like Draco, because then at least it wasn’t a farce.

Deciding that for the time being it would be best to do what the older witch said, Hermione stepped forwards and was shocked when Narcissa took off her blazer and tried to remove her shirt.

“What are you doing?” she asked, alarmed.

“Don’t be so shy, darling. We’re family now. I’m helping you get undressed.” She then continued to remove all of her future daughter in law’s clothing.

Feeling vulnerable and exposed, Hermione kept her head held high and her gaze level with Narcissa’s. She jumped when Narcissa ran a soft hand over the smooth skin of her hips and lower abdomen.

“You’ve got such lovely skin,” she purred. “And your hips are to die for! They flare out perfectly without being frumpy. They’re perfect for child birth; you’ll have an easy time of it. Was your mother like this?”

Swallowing, Hermione replied, “Everyone always said that my mother should have been a model instead of a dentist.” Even though Narcissa was complimenting her, she was extremely uneasy. The woman spoke of her as if she were a mare and this was not the first time a Malfoy had brought up her hips in reference to childbirth. To her knowledge, the Malfoy family had been adamant about population control, so why were they now so concerned about her ability to carry children? Her mother had had an easy time with child birth and people who hadn’t been around to see her pregnancy often thought that Hermione was secretly adopted because she lost her baby weight so quickly and returned to her previous size.

“Wonderful, darling,” Narcissa finally handed her the white lace knickers that had been purchased for the dress and the corset that matched. Hermione put them on, grateful to finally be covered from the women’s appraisal. The corset laced itself up her back and pushed her already large breasts up and together. Finally, the wedding dress lowered itself over her head with the aid of Narcissa’s wand.

It was a white, raw silk column dress with an empire waist and a Grecian flair to it. The shoulder straps of the dress were made of gathered fabric and clipped with silver, ivy. From there, the fabric draped into two triangles over her ample bosom. There was silver embroidery at the empire waistline. The back of the dress dipped almost indecently low. Narcissa studied her a moment before picking a white gold choker that was carved into ivy with tiny pearls fashioned into the shape of tiny white flowers. She added matching earrings and a tiara.

“You look positively, stunning.” Narcissa seemed surprised. Then again, the only women she ever came across in her social circle had to put hours into getting ready just to go to a restaurant. “Let me take you outside, I want to take your picture in the garden.”

“But it’s nearly midnight,” Hermione protested. She was getting tired of being the older woman’s dress-up doll.

“It won’t take but a moment, and then I’ll get you back to Draco.”


The garden of the dowager house held a large stone and hedge maze. It wasn’t nearly as complicated as the one from the Tri-wizard tournament, but it was still impressive. Hermione could see the way in and figured out the simple path out, but she was still intrigued. There were flowers and benches all around the maze, making it seem like something from the secret garden. Narcissa sat her on a bench and then using her wand, she summoned a floral bouquet of bachelor buttons, jonquils, veronicas and heather. They weren’t flowers that Hermione herself would have chosen to put together but Narcissa seemed to have an eye for these things and the bouquet actually looked quite pretty. She took several pictures and Hermione was impressed with her knowledge of a camera. She had always assumed that Narcissa had been an empty-headed trophy wife, a predecessor to Pansy Parkinson. She was beginning to see why she had been such a match for Lucius. That and the fact that they were both a few knuts short of a galleon.

Finally, it was 11:59 and Hermione wanted to go to sleep. Draco had probably finished with whatever girl he’d found for the evening and hopefully wouldn’t bother her except to wrap his naked form around hers as they slept.

She hated that he paraded his body around as if he were an exhibit that people would pay to see and she hated herself for admiring it. She hated her hormones for appreciating the broad expanse of his shoulders and she hated her body for coming on fire when he molded his muscular body against hers. She hated him for being able to give her an orgasm and for making her keep her eyes open when he did. She hated the horrible bruises he created on her neck with his teeth and hated herself for enjoying the process of them getting there. If he had been any other man, she probably would have enjoyed his rough treatment in the bedroom. It was liberating to give control to someone else. Then she had to look down at Malfoy’s awful smirk and feel her stomach turn.

While she was lost in thought, she must have made a wrong turn because she was at the entryway of the center of the maze. A strange and wonderful smell filled her nose and she walked into the circular center. There was a man in front of an alter with candles and sage burning. There was a cauldron that the man was bending over, putting ingredients into it. It smelled like apple cider and Hermione watched as he cut a pomegranate in half and squeezed the juice into the cauldron. Next, crushed dried dandelion, purple clover, red fern, thyme, purple violets, crushed dragon claw and more. She stepped on a twig and when the man turned around, Hermione found herself faced with Eckland Earhart, the ministry official who had started the law. What was he doing in Mrs. Malfoy’s garden at midnight?

“Miss Granger, how did you come here?” For some reason he was surprised by neither her presence nor her attire.

“I came here by portkey,” she said confused.

“No, I mean how did you come into the circle? Were you forced, did someone threaten you? Were you imperioused to step into this circle?” For the first time, Hermione noticed a circle had been created out of ivy and she had indeed stepped inside it.

“No, I came of my own free will.” As soon as the words left her confused mouth, a large bell tower chimed that the hour was in fact midnight. With a grim realization, it suddenly dawned on Hermione that the herbs burning on the table and in the cauldron and even the flowers in her bouquet were all representations of fidelity, fertility, lust, and impossibly, love. Hermione had just willingly walked into the her marriage circle to Draco Malfoy. Turning, she tried to leave, but was stopped by the sight of Draco. He was wearing all black and like her, he was barefoot. He stepped into the circle and taking her arm, led a stupefied Hermione over to Mr. Earhart.

“And what of you, Mr. Malfoy? How did you come to the circle?”

“I came of my own free will,” came his taught reply and Hermione felt a tiny twinge inside her as the magic of their statements took over.

“Well, with that settled, let us begin!” Mr. Earhart rubbed his hands together and began the ancient ritual of a Malfoy bonding.

“Mr. Malfoy, is it your wish to take this woman as your wife? Will you protect her from others, will you hold her dear to your heart and forsake all others making hers the only sacred feminine you will seek comfort in from this day forward?”

“I will,” he stated and Hermione felt a tightening in her core.

“Do you, Miss Granger come to Mr. Malfoy, free from any other living male attachment? Will you allow him the rights of protectorate over your body? Will you assure him that any children born of this union will be his only?”

Hermione was infuriated. This archaic ritual went perfectly with this archaic law. No matter, now that she knew the words she could figure out a way to undo them. They couldn’t be that binding because there was no way that Draco was going to stay faithful to her. He had a tight grip on her wrist and his mother was outside, she was already trapped in the circle until Mr. Earhart finished, so she took what appeared to be her only option and answered, “I do, and I will.”

There was another tug and the vague sense of tightening. Mr. Earhart turned to the table and pulled out an ancient knife that must have belonged to Virgil himself it was so old. Offering it to Draco, he took out a ribbon that was woven around ivy and dipped it into the cauldron. While she watched Mr. Earhart, she missed Draco slice his own palm, but felt the stinging pain when he cut hers.

She looked up in shock. Blood magic was very, very strong magic. Why would Malfoy invoke it? She felt slightly lightheaded and wondered if it was the herbs. Suddenly, she couldn’t remember why she was there or why it was so important for her to get away. All she could do was stare into Draco’s eyes as Mr. Earhart painted their palms with the potion and then clasped their hands together as he wrapped them in the ribbon and ivy. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew that ivy stood for fidelity, but she didn’t know why it was important.

When he was done hand-fasting them, Mr. Earhart stood back and began to chant as Draco picked up his wand and pointed it at Hermione.

“Vos es mei, Vos belong volo, ego own vos. Usquequaque fidelis mei, Usquequaque fidelis vos. Illic can exsisto haud alius. (You are mine, you belong to me and I own you. Always faithful to me, always faithful to you. There can be no other.)” With a swish of his wand, Hermione felt something pull out of her and it was soon replaced with something similar, but foreign. She couldn’t take her eyes off his triumphant, maniacal grey ones.

Several candles had gone out and Mr. Earhart ceased his chanting. “She is yours, Mr. Malfoy. You may take her if you wish.”

Without ever taking his eyes from her own, Draco lifted her and despite their hands still being tied, he did it gracefully. As he neared the stone table covered in flower petals, the rational part of Hermione’s mind screamed at her to wake up, but the fog was too thick. For some reason, being carried by him felt ‘right’. When he got to the table, He untied their hands and laid her across it. Reaching to the top of the table, he pulled himself up as well. The light from four torches, one at each corner cast dancing shadows across his face, making him look both angelic and terrifying.

The part of her brain that was still resisting this, latched on to the terrifying features and finally spoke as he he eased them both out of their clothes. It wasn’t much, but as she gazed at him, she finally forced out, “Why…?”

He looked down at her body and ran his hands over it, taking the sight of her in with his eyes and she watched the light play across the muscles on his back and when he turned around, she finally saw his engorged manhood. She had seen it plenty of times in the past week, but until now, she had never thought of how something so large was meant to fit inside her. She ever so slightly tried to struggle backwards, but as soon as it started, the fog in her mind made her forget why.

Draco’s hands stilled her hips and he looked down at her. Whenever he touched, the fog in her brain became safe and she gravitated towards it. Settling himself between her legs he answered her question. “Why? Because I’m your husband and this is my right.”


A/N- I know, I know! Another cliffie! Don’t worry, next installment shall be up soon! To everyone who has reviewed, thank you. I’m sorry that some people won’t be reading anymore, but this story won’t have a miraculous turn around. Besides, I think every so often we want to read about a hopeless situation in which Hermione is at Draco’s mercy, because that is hot. For those of you who do not like dark Draco, try reading some of my other fics. This fic however, Draco demanded to be written as a bastard. Cheers! G.C.