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His Relinquishment	By : lexiatel Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 70407 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to Jk Rowling, I do not make any profit in writing this story what so ever. I am just having some fun.

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The one that beat him. She was to be his wife. Draco's teeth ground out in pure hate. The fucking Mudblood! How the fuck had that happened?!
He was being given the best?! Draco scoffed. He'd settled for the Hufflepuff in twentieth place over this. She would taint his blood with her filth!
Merlin, he was so fucking angry! He didn't spend weeks to be the best only to be paired with her. All the while, she had stolen his spot— over night! It was just like that filthy, bloody Mudblood! She always had to outdo everyone. Him especially!
"Shall I go with you?" Severus asked as Draco readied himself to claim his disgusting prize of a wife.
After the Dark Lord told him who he was to marry, it took all his might to not curse his Master out. How dare He?! How dare He?! After all that he had done for Him?! This was his reward?! A dirty, fucking Mudblood?! And that particular one?!
But the Dark Lord explained why this was happening, "There is no better for you, Draco. None of the Pure women are able to carry your heirs. It is devastating news."
Infertility.
Draco just couldn't believe it. The Dark Lord didn't say much more on the subject, but Draco immediately assumed that it was some sort of curse. He didn't have many details about it, maybe because his Master didn't have any information on the subject Himself, but it made the most sense.
A damaging curse set on pureblood women. It would be quite effective, should they not introduce Mudbloods into their blood. The Pureblood female population had already been drastically less than the male one before the war, and now this? Very damaging indeed.
Still, Draco would rather have a Halfblood than a Mudblood.
"No, I don't need you holding my hand," Draco muttered.
The Dark Lord had ordered him to take a few days off, to clear his head. He probably knew that Draco wanted to kill her on the spot. But now it was time to fetch her. She couldn't stay In Holding forever— as much as he would prefer that as her dying fate.
The marriage ties had already been made, he just had to finalize it. She was his responsibility now.
"Perhaps you should give it another day, Draco," Severus advised him. "You do not look ready to see her— not properly."
"There will never be a proper time!" Draco snapped, tucking his wand into an inside pocket of his robes. "She was always making my life difficult since the day I met her, and now... and now, I have to marry her?! I have to accept her as the mother of my heirs. I have to wake up every bloody day with her there, reminding me that she beat me again, in just nine battles. Nine. Do you know how many I was put through?!"
"I do," his godfather answered quietly. "127."
"And I won them all. She was put through one night of hell, and me, three fucking weeks, yet she's given the title?! She's the best?! She outranks me?!" Draco took a deep breath, feeling his pulse race from anger. "No," he said coldly, adjusting the front of his robes into perfection, trying to gather a sense of calmness before he had to leave. "I will not accept that. I put more work into the program than anyone has. I am the best."
He stepped into the floo. "I'll be back in a few hours. Make sure the house-elves have everything ready." Severus looked like he wanted to say something, but Draco didn't give him a chance, he was gone with a flash of light.
He didn't even bother to knock when he came upon the door of her cell, barging right in, and locking them both in the tiny room with a spell. She had been pacing the wall at the back of the room. Practically having to spin in circles since it was so small.
His nose scrunched up at her sight. It was fitting; filthy blood, filthy appearance. She had grime stuck to her exposing skin. Bare from the knees down, and forearms to fingers. Her hair was gnarled and knotted from lack of brushing and care. All she wore was a loose fitting, white cotton nightshirt that was tied around her waist with an old looking drawstring taken from some Muggle sweat pants.
She stood her ground, feet shoulder-width apart. Her head was a little bent down, her hate-filled eyes positioned at the top of her sockets, as if she was daring him to step near her. "You're a murderer!" she growled. Her hands balled up into fists and she leaped at him like she was some animal that had gone mad. Teeth bared and all.
Draco sidestepped from her path and hooked a hand into the collar around her neck, yanking her into his control. She let out a cry.
He smirked to himself. She was not the best. He had the control here, and the Mudblood would finally learn where she belonged: on her hands and fucking knees.
He pushed her down, easily forcing her to the ground, burying her face into the dirt that was caked to the stone from lack of cleaning. She struggled against his hold, but he had the upperhand.
"Be still, Mudblood!" He gave the collar good yank, hearing a loud crack before she let out a yelp of pain. She immediately halted all fighting she had been doing.
"Idiot," he hissed at her, noticing the rash that had developed around her neck. "Never thought to think that this—" he tugged at the collar. "—is cursed to cause you pain should you try to remove it? Oh, but you're supposed to be a bright witch, huh?!" he gave her another yank. A sob escaped her, he knew she had been fighting back to keep her cries silent.
He scowled at her, angry with her ignorance. Now he'd have to spend resources to get her neck healed, knowing it would spread if not treated. And fast.
He certainly didn't want to look at crusty, disgusting skin all the time. She was hideous enough.
Knowing she was persistent, he'd have to come up with a different device for her. This one was not fit for her. He did like the collar idea though, easily able to gain control of her when he needed— or wanted— it. He'd see about a different kind of collar.
"Just do it already," she growled, somewhat muffled by the dirt. He heard her puff out a breath of air. "Kill me, you murdering bastard!"
He pushed her hard against the flooring, grunting in satisfaction at the sound of her gasp for air. "You'll wish you were dead after I'm done with you!" he snarled, hitting her head against the stone.
"Stop!" she moaned in pain.
Even with as filthy as she was, a whiff of fragrance entered his nose. He recognized it as jasmine. Figures. The one scent he truly hated on a woman.
He released her with a shove and took his wand out, pointing it at her. He watched her as she wiped the dirt from her mouth with the shoulder of her hideous night shirt, smearing a streak of mud across her face. She stood, spitting at his feet.
Wordlessly, without even twitching his wand, he sent her doubling over. "Bow to your superior, Mudblood!"
She let out a puff, breathing heavily, trying to fight off his spell.
"That's better. I expect this of you every time you are graced with my presence." With his wand still pointed at her, he stuck his free hand into his pocket, pulling out a small item. He silently ordered her hand to lift from her side and hold itself out to him. He clenched his jaw bitterly, eyeing the ring over.
He really had no choice in the matter. He knew it. This fucking piece of dirt before him was his wife now. There was no escaping it. The Dark Lord had ordered it to be done— and it was. He just had to make it official.
He slid the ring on, careful not to touch any bit of her hand with his own.
He closed his eyes, letting out a breath.
There.
It was done.
There was no going back.
*/*
She was beginning to sweat, uncomfortable from being in such an unusual position for so long, while also biting her bottom lip to keep her whimpers at bay. She would try her best to not show her fear.
Why hadn't he killed her? Did he want to torture her first? He certainly hated her, and had obviously since the day they had met, but there were not many people he liked, that much she knew.
She felt her arm drop back to her side and looked down at the cold ring he had put on her finger. It was a plain looking silver ring: nothing special. What was he playing at?! Why give her a ring? She was curious, yet fury boiled inside her, knowing it wasn't a kind gesture of him.
"To your knees and kiss my shoes," he said above her. She uncontrollably fell to her knees, wincing from the harsh contact of the solid ground. Once again, she found herself being forced beneath him. And to her horror, her hands gracefully lifted the very bottom of his robes, exposing his shiny black shoes. Her head then dipped down to them, touching her lips to each toe of his shoes with a delicate pecking.
"It is nice to know that my slave is so thankful of my gift," he stated with no hint of actual gratitude.
Did he say slave?
She fought against his Imperius curse, but it was too strong. Merlin, she just want to hurt him and get the hell out of this nightmare! She'd find a way. That's for bloody sure.
She felt his hand grasp around the collar again, and she squeezed her eyes shut, preparing herself for another dose of pain, but all that happened was the air being sucked from her lungs.
He was apparating them.
He released her as soon as they landed, conjuring up a potion and rubbing it over his hands. "This is where you will stay," he informed her, watching as she hurled herself to her feet.
She glanced around her, not expecting what she saw. She was in what looked to be a sitting room, fashionably furnished with antique furniture. She would have thought he would have stuck her into a dungeon of some sort.
"You have got a room with a bathroom, off over there—" he pointed to the left at a wood door. "You are not allowed to leave your suite without my permitting. You may try, but you will find it impossible. Break anything, and I will inflict a matching punishment. I expect you to use the bathtub. That is my first command of you."
Her lips pursed. "I am not going to do anything you say, you bast—" She was unable to get another word out as her mouth filled up with cotton, nearly gagging her.
"Next time, it'll be something much less appetizing," he warned her with no amusement in his voice. "I will be here in an hour to ensure you are clean. You best be." He was gone with a crack.
Hermione shuddered in fear, analyzing the mess she was in. She looked around. The suite was better than the home she and Samual had lived in, but since this was likely a place that Malfoy owned, this was probably the worst he could do— besides a dungeon cell.
Why wasn't she placed in a cell though? Or a cage? Wasn't that where slaves belonged— if that's what he expected her to be? From the rumours she had heard what was being done with Muggleborns and those considered blood traitors, that's exactly what was expected of him.
If only I had my wand, she thought sadly. It had burned down in the fire.
She hoped Samual was okay. She wouldn't count on it though. Hermione put her hand up to her mouth, releasing a sob. That poor boy.
Her eyes fell down to the ring on her finger. It was obviously another torture device to control her. She wanted to remove it, but was reluctant after the learning about the necklace's abilities. Knowing Malfoy though, if the ring had some inflicting curse, he would had told her about it; in arrogance. Or at the very least, she would have thought he would have hinted around about what would happen if she tried removing it?
Hermione grasped it with her fingers and tried removing it. It wouldn't budge a flick. It felt glued to her skin. She narrowed her eyes for a better look, bringing her hand up closer to her face. She scraped a thumbnail along the edge of it where it touched her skin.
She gasped. It was attached to her skin! A simple tug was not going to remove it.
She'd have to find another way.
"There is no way to remove it," a dark voice informed her, making her jump. She spun around, seeing Severus Snape eyeing her over with his glinting, black eyes.
She backed up, putting distance between them, waiting to see what he was going to do next.
"Unless..." he drawled out for effect. "You were to die."
She uneasily swallowed, straining her throat, unwilling to show him fear. "What's going on?" she managed to ask without a shaking voice. She hid her trembling hands behind her back.
"You will address me as 'sir', just as you did in school," he said, giving her a look that told her she was to not forget it.
"I'm not in school anymore. I do not follow anyone's orders."
One eyebrow lifted up in surprise of her cheek. "Would you rather I left you with that irritating mess on your neck?"
At the mention of it, she put a hand up to the stinging flesh, feeling hot fluid against her fingers, she looked at her hand in horror. It was pale green.
"That would be puss," Snape explained. "In which, I'm sure you already knew."
Her eyes shifted up from her hand, looking at him. She had just noticed that he had yet to express how 'insufferable' she was, a common insult he had always used on her in her youth.
"If it is not treated soon, it will literally eat you alive from the outside in. A very uncomfortable death, indeed," he added dryly.
"W-What needs to be done to s-stop it?" she asked, twitching at the excessive itching that was prickling the infected area of her body.
"A salve, a Healer of the Dark Arts, and a cooperating patient." He gave a her single pointed nod.
Hermione closed her eyes. "Alright..." she whispered, keeping her eyes shut. She jumped when she heard a cork pop right behind her. Snape had walked so silently that she hadn't heard him approach.
"I'm going to remove the collar— only for the moment— I expect you to keep still," Snape warned. Her neck felt free as he removed it easily in two pieces.
"I have no wand anyway," she told him quietly, wincing as Snape lightly spread a sweet smelling salve onto her rash. She nearly sighed in relief as all her pain instantly went away.
Snape tapped the tip of his wand to her skin and muttered an incantation.
Hermione slumped as he replaced the necklace around her. She almost cried when she heard it snap in place, tightening around her neck.
"No more fiddling with it," he instructed.
"Must I wear this?" she asked him in desperation as he swept from her.
"Until your..." His eyes flickered away from her. "Until Draco decides otherwise."
"What's the ring for?"
"Draco will explain it to you when he is ready. Goodnight..." he paused, inclining his head. "Goodnight." he said more firmly. He was gone, disappearing, and making no sound.
*/*
"She is malnourished," Severus informed Draco. "She can not carry an infant in her current physical state."
Draco stared at the page of the book he had been unable to focus on. He shrugged. "I wasn't entirely excited over the thought of shagging her to begin with. Good to know I have an excuse from infecting myself so soon. She's to not know we're married. You did not tell her, did you?"
Severus shook his head. "She is your wife. I kept the details simple. She's very nosey, though, not unusual for her."
Draco grunted. "I may just have her permanently tongue-tied." He relished over the thought of it. "She's to think that she is my slave— nothing more."
"The Dark Lord gave you a wife, not a slave, Draco," Severus gently reminded him.
Draco nodded. "Which is why I didn't throw her in the dungeon with the rats. She is in a very nice spot. I've provided her better than her Weasley boyfriend would have." He grinned smugly to himself. Dead, blue eyes lingered into his mind.
"You should consult a Meal Planner for her," Severus suggested. "To get her up to proper health."
"I will," Draco promised in annoyance over the subject of her taking his mind off of his success.
"The healthier she is, the healthier your sons will be..." When Draco said nothing, Severus added, "That goes for happiness too."
"Thank you for you help, Severus, would you please leave me alone now," Draco said as calmly as he could, though his words were layered with acid. "I don't feel well right now," he added quickly, which was true. "I just need time to myself."
Severus tipped his head in a goodbye. "Goodnight then, Draco."
When the man was gone, Draco jumped off the sofa in a hurry, and ran to the bathroom, throwing up into it. He scowled at the mess in the sink, cursing his churning gut.
The ring sealed to his finger glistened, catching his attention out of the corner of his eye. His lips pursed out uglily.
This is all her fault.
He vowed revenge. He would punish her for cursing his life. The Mudblood would pay for her mistakes, and he was going to enjoy doing it to her.

Review Responses:
RavieSnake: So far, I have about four chapter thought of.
Mady: Thanks :)
angel_baby_10: Hey, thanks for pointing that out to me. I fixed it. I always get those two mixed up!
veela916: I won't be able to update much, just trying to get what I have out of my head so I can go full force on my other Dramione.
Ripewickedplum12: Thanks, glad ya liked it!
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His Relinquishment