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His Relinquishment	By : lexiatel Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 70413 -:- 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.

Chapter List
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Hermione rose up from the bed and tried to wet her mouth. She groaned at the pain of a headache (which was what had woken her up in the first place). It was five in the evening. Apparently, she had needed a nap, but she didn't remember laying down. Hermione couldn't remember any of that day actually, not even what she had for breakfast.
She did recall what happened the day before though, dancing with Draco at Blaise's (he had insisted that she call him by his first name), spending the day there and drinking too much.
Drinking?
Hermione didn't drink often. She had terrible hangovers when she did, and no potions could cure her of the nausea she would get afterward.
She wandered into the bathroom of her suite, needing to use the toilet, trying to remember anything else.
Draco laughed in her memory while they danced to a faster paced song that made her dizzy. His laughter was hard and incredibly deep. Hermione had never heard him laugh such freely. She supposed he must had been drinking too— but then if that was the case, why didn't she remember the smell of alcohol on his breath? The stench that followed drinking was also why she didn't like to drink. It was an awful smell and would make her gag after a full night of it, churning her sick, upset stomach which made her throw everything all up.
"Oh, Mistress, you're awake!" Bobby announced, appearing at the doorway.
Hermione moaned: the high-pitched, squeaky voice of the creature went straight to her throbbing, irritated nerves, increasing the agony. "Would you please call me by my name?"
"Bobby is not allowed, ma'am, I'm sorry.
"Mistress had a fun time at Blaise Zabini's party," the elf continued, conjuring up a potion with a snap of her fingers, "and came home very happy and laughing. Master said you drank too much and needed some rest. Bobby and the other house-elves were ordered not to wake you. Master Draco says to give you this when you wake. Master says it'll take care of the side effects of your overindulgence."
Hermione squinted her eyes and held a hand up to her head, wincing at the sharp pain. "Thank you, Bobby," she said as the elf stepped up her to give her the potion. She took it only to be polite, knowing the potion wouldn't cure the 'side effects of her overindulgence'. "And where is my thoughtful husband this evening?"
"Master says to tell you that he will likely not be back before dinner, and Mistress is to eat without him."
"Where did he go?"
"Bobby did not ask; it is no concern to this house-elf."
"Alright," Hermione grumbled out.
"Is my mistress not going to drink her potion?"
Hermione, to prevent from offending her given house-elf (and any possibility of getting Bobby into trouble with Draco), downed the potion in one, quick swallow. She held her breath, bracing herself for the shudder her body was going to involuntarily do from the back flavour of it. The potion had a small amount of pumpkin vinegar in it, and while her taste buds didn't mind so much, her stomach and throat did, often trying to force whatever she had just taken back up with it.
Nothing happened though, mildly puzzling her. But she realized why that could be: she hadn't had a sick stomach. Her head had been a little light, pounding in excruciating pain (this discomfort was now cured after consuming the potion), but her stomach had been perfectly fine before taking it.
That's strange, she thought. I have never been intoxicated without it affecting my stomach…
Then she remembered the dry mouth feeling she had when she woke up. Hermione pursed her lips, gripping the vial tightly, adding all the clues together; Draco's abnormal laugh and his breath lacking smell in her memory— along with her other symptoms— could only mean one thing.
Her husband was lying to her.
*/*
"You can sit down," Draco offered. He sat in his own chair, feet propped up on an ottoman. A house-elf named Creet held out a platter of sandwiches to him, to which he took half of one.
Potter remained standing, his wand firmly in his hand. "Where are we?" he repeated the question in a growl. Draco supposed Potter was upset by the abrupt apparation spell he had cast once Potter had taken his hand. Potter was obviously truly desperate for Hermione to be on the 'light' side of the war.
"Somewhere far away from any unnecessary acquaintances," Draco answered discreetly and took a bite of his sandwich. "Put your wand away, you won't be needing it."
"I feel safer with it equipped, thank you," Potter retorted.
Draco shrugged. "You're welcome to the food too—"
"Tell me what you want, Malfoy. What must I do to ensure that my friend doesn't end up on the wrong side of this bloody mess?! And how can I know for certain that I can trust you?"
"For one, I haven't summoned my Master," Draco pointed out. "He would veritably love to learn that you're still alive. Especially since your mere existence is costing him his much wanted immortality."
"Who's to say he isn't already on his way?!"
"He could be, yes. You made a thick-headed move, Potter; this could very well be a trap. My, you are fucked now, having to completely trust me with your life."
Potter cautiously looked around the small living room they were in, perhaps looking for an escape should he need it. "This is a… Muggle's home…!" he exclaimed when he caught sight of a device known as a telly box.
"How observant of you. I commend you for noticing."
"I can't believe Draco Malfoy is sitting in a Muggle's home!"
"Actually, it no longer belongs to a Muggle. It's mine and has been in my family for about twenty years. My family has always been well prepared, easily able to slip through cracks if need to be. Now is no different."
The two wizards shared a look before Potter finally relaxed a little and sat down. He did not put away his wand though.
"I have a few conditions that must be followed should we join your side."
Potter's eyes narrowed. "Of course you do, and they are?"
"They are fairly small, considering the risk involved."
"Would you just spit it out already, Malfoy."
"Well, the first would be full immunity when this is all over— if you win."
"Yes, that's probably not going to happen. Partial immunity, but definitely not full."
"Complete immunity," Draco emphasized with a drone. "Else there's no deal."
"Not after all you've done— you killed Dumbledore, you… you…" Potter's eyes blazed with fury for a second, but he immediately calmed down, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes for a moment. "They will not forget your crimes. Frankly, neither will I."
"You know I didn't have a choice—"
"We all have choices!" Potter snapped. "You made yours clear that you were willing to murder a man to save your own skin! A man who offered to protect you—"
"That same promise worked well for your parents, didn't it?"
Potter's hand that held his wand tightened around it. His lips pressed together. His green eyes darkened. "If you want this meeting to continue, Malfoy, you will refrain from mentioning my parents. They are not to be used in a joke."
"I'm just trying to say that Dumbledore had an awful track history of protecting people."
"What're your other conditions?" Potter's voice lowered, changing the subject.
"When your side has won, Hermione is to remain my wife."
"No."
"Yes."
"Absolutely not!" Potter flew up from his seat. "Not after all she's been through! Not after all you've done to her! She's not to be used as a bargaining tool! And certainly not just so you can fulfill some sick fantasy of owning her!"
"You think I want to own her?"
Potter sent Draco a doubtful look. "As if you really, truthfully care about her!"
"Why would you think that? She's my wife—"
"Not for long! When I kill him, all the marriage spells that he forced upon everyone will be broken! Especially yours!"
"Hermione and I will be inseparable," Draco argued calmly. "You will not be able to divide us. In fact, it might be hazardous to attempt to do so; you saw what we did at that camp— this is why your side wants her, this is why you want us. I'm not stupid, Potter, you fear that my wife will take his Mark, and if she does, your side will have zero chance to succeed in this war. Hermione and I are the most strongest, smartest, and youngest in magic there current is. Whichever side gets us both will be the most likely to win. Maybe you'll pull off killing the Dark Lord without us, but you still have his followers to worry about. Sick, demented people like Blaise who love their little enslaved wives and will fight to keep them."
Potter stiffened, a grim look planted itself to his face. He looked at the floor; he was blaming himself for this.
"Why do you even want her?" he spoke after a few moments of silence, sighing, clearly at a loss of what he should do.
"Unless there's some magnificent miracle, by the time the war is over, I'm fairly certain our first child will be on his way, if not already born. I grew up with a typical family, I want my own children to have that also. Besides, why put her through the stress of a custody battle when I would win since I'm the father— old-fashioned wizard laws, you know, it would take years to get them changed. They certainly wouldn't be top priority after a war."
"Fine," Potter agreed quietly, defeated. "But only if Hermione willingly and freely agrees to your proposal to remain as your wife, and only if she's kept unharmed. If she's harmed at all, and if I find out you have hurt her again, Malfoy, all deals are off, and you best know some good hiding spots, because I'll come looking for you, your master will be the least of your worries."
"That sounds more than fair."
"Anything else?"
"Two more things," Draco added with a drawl. "She can't know about this; her occlumency is not strong enough against the Dark Lord, it's actually rather weak, which is surprising, since she seems strong in just about everything else I can think of. It would best for her if she was kept in the dark about this."
"That's understandable," Potter muttered, unhappy with the supplied information. "And the last condition?"
"Neither my wife nor I are to be expected to fight for you. We have a reputation with my Master to uphold, if he caught us attacking his own people, we would likely never be seen again, and if by any chance that we were, it would be a gruesome sight, one that I assure you that you would prefer not to see."
Potter nodded, though Draco could tell he was not liking what he was hearing. His face turned a little pale.
"I really have no choice but to meet your requests."
"Precisely." Draco took out his wand and cast a spell.
"What was that?"
"I have sent for an additional person to be involved," Draco informed. "We shall make sure our deal is not broken."
"And just who may that me?" Potter started squirming again, feeling uncomfortable.
"Relax, if I was going to turn you in, you would be dead already."
"Why are you deflecting anyway?"
"Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived…" Draco drawled out, half smirking. "You escaped death how many times now? I dare say, I actually have some faith in you this time, Potter. And…" he paused for effect, picking at his nails. "If you lose, nothing changes in my life. I'm not worried either way, but Malfoys tend to play both sides of the coins. Yours just happens to be the one I want most."
"I don't get it; I thought you liked your current life— should you obey him?"
Draco stared at Potter blankly, debating on telling his rival the truth. "If I had refused to take the Mark, my mother would have been slaughtered in the most brutal way you can ever imagine."
"I see..."
"That's not even the worst part of it," Draco told him flatly, suppressing his bitterness.
"What could be worse than that?"
"I'll spare you the details," he said, standing up when there was a knock on the door. "Our neutral friend has arrived."
"Friend?" Potter asked, slightly confused. He was even more confused once the door was opened, revealing Astoria.
"Hello," she greeted carefully as Creet offered her a drink. Besides that, she said nothing. Potter avoided her eyes.
"Hello, Tori," Draco gestured her to sit. "We need a witness."
"What's happening here?" Potter asked, now in immense confusion.
"You know that Mudblood who was at the camp and was ordered to take chunks from my body and castrate me? Well, he was very informative, or rather his mind was. I learned quite a few secrets. And then I just connected some dots." Here, he looked pointedly at Astoria who gave him a pathetic smile. "It seems my friend here is a sympathizer and has probably been on your side for years. It would certainly explain her secret lover."
Astoria let out a nervous laugh, knowing that Draco wasn't going to turn her into the Dark Lord, but uncomfortable with the situation just the same. "It's true…"
"Before or after I turned you down?"
Her face dropped. "After, of course, Draco! I'm no whore!"
"Just checking," he added quickly, clearing his throat. "Sorry."
"This little confession session is great, but I have quite a few people who are probably having kittens right now. I've been gone long enough, Malfoy— what's she doing here?"
"She's going to witness our Unbreakable Vows."
"Unbreakable—" Potter stopped, fully realizing what Draco wanted. He gave it a good thought before he nodded. "Okay then. I can handle that. It would certainly ensure your half of the agreement."
"Good luck trying to win her heart, Malfoy," Potter muttered sarcastically after the vows were said, and he had been told he could finally leave.
"We'll meet again in a week," Draco announced.
"I do not doubt that Jordan will want to speak with you soon," Potter warned him.
"I'm not sure if I'll be up to talking with her or not."
"I heard what they did to you," Astoria said once Potter was gone, eyeing him over.
"I've been through worse just in training alone," Draco told her.
"I know, but it's still… awful."
Draco shrugged, wanting the topic to drop. "It's part of war."
"Are you really on Harry's side?" she asked uncertainly.
Draco snorted. "I'm on my side, Astoria. Whomever is going to protect me the most is who I'm more loyal to. For the moment, that seems to be Potter's side."
"What if that changes?"
He lifted up a shoulder. "Then I guess it changes. I didn't make a vow that said I wouldn't fight against them. All I promised was that she wouldn't fight against them— she'll not fight at all if she's pregnant, the Dark Lord wouldn't take that risk."
Astoria's eyes widened, realizing what he said was the truth.
Draco chuckled. "Aren't I brilliant? All I have to do is keep Hermione out of harm's way, which is what I intended to do anyway."
"You're incredibly brilliant. I only hope that the side that protects you the best is the good one."
"Neither side is good, Tori," Draco told her truthfully. "If you torture people, relishing over their screams of pain, that does not make you a good person. It makes you a twisted piece of shite."
"I'll take your word for it, since you know first handedly what it's like to be both the predator and the victim."
Without coming out and saying it, she was accusing him of being a hypocrite.
"It's no fun being either one, I promise you," he said, easily ignoring his friend's little stab at him. "I just want it all to stop, and that can only start with the fall of the Dark Lord."
*/*
At the Manor, Draco found his wife in the library surrounded by a mountain of books, nothing he hadn't expected to come home to. He tilted his head at the sight of her, narrowing his eyes, staring at her as he stood at the door. Hermione was twirling a curl of hair around her finger.
A curl.
Sometime while he was out, her hair had been changed back to its original state: wild, messy, and unlady-like.
Anger started to simmer from deep within Draco. He didn't doubt that she had gone through the trouble to regrow her hair all over again, eliminating the work he had done on it.
With his fists clenched to his sides, he smoothly walked over to her, not wishing to startle Hermione before he could address her about what she had done.
She shouldn't have been able to do it. The spell should have stopped her before she could even start the act of defiance, but there she sat, not a strand of straightness in her bird nest of hair.
"You changed your hair back," he confronted his wife coldly, allowing her the awareness that he was definitely unhappy about it.
"Yes, I did," she answered, her body stiffened, but she did not look up at him, eyes still on a page of the book she was reading. "I decided that I'd rather keep my natural hair."
"But I decided that I like it the other way, and that was why you changed it. For me, your husband."
"It's my hair and having it straight doesn't suit me."
"I expect you to look at me while you speak to me," he ordered, malice thick in his tone.
She deliberately flipped the page to her book, ignoring his demand.
Draco looked at his wife in complete awe, unable to believe that she would do such a thing and ignore his demand! It was almost like he had been thrown back in time when she was disobedient and disrespectful— ungrateful!
What happened to his devoted wife?! Had the spell wore off…?
No. She wouldn't be here if that was the case, she would have made an escape. So then what was it? Why was she trying (and succeeding) to piss him off?
Draco pulled a chair out from under the table she was sitting at and sat in it, stacking some of the books that were blocking his view of her on top of another pile. He studied her for a moment, contemplating on how he should address her with this issue, gingerly picking out his words to say instead of spewing what he really wanted to say.
What the fuck is your problem, bitch?!
"What have I done to upset you, my wife?" he finally purred his delicately chosen words, setting his hands onto the table and folding them. He stole a glance at what she was reading and was a little surprised to learn that she was reading about a curse that created a fire with no flames.
"You invaded my mind," Hermione answered. "You wiped a memory— my memory, and then you lied about what happened, and either you lied to the house-elves, or you made them lie to me. All of which is unacceptable to me." She finally brought her eyes up from the book, giving him the most darkest look he had ever gotten from her.
Draco stirred in his seat as his wife continued to hold that look, piercing him with it. Her brown eyes were clouded with fury, promising him hell should he say the wrong thing.
How had she discovered what he had done? Draco thought he had covered his tracks easily. How could she even know what he did?
"What did you take from me?" Hermione asked in a voice that told him that she would only expect the truth, and nothing else.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Draco said, deciding that it was best to deny doing it at all. He stood up. "And I don't appreciate this accusation. Before anything else is said, maybe we should give ourselves a moment to think." He turned around, putting his back to her and reached for his wand.
The chair Hermione sat in made a dragging sound against the floor as she stood up. He flung his wand out, casting a spell to stun her, but the streak of yellow went sailing off, blocked from a spell she had used.
They stood in silence, eyes narrowed up, neither wanting to make the next move, neither wanting to put their guard down.
"I trusted you," she whispered, sounding bitter.
"I told you, Hermione, I didn't do anything—"
She swung her arm in a circle, throwing him up into the air and back several feet where he crashed to the floor. Draco clenched his teeth. His thigh throbbed in pain from the impact of the landing. He wordlessly tossed a disarming spell at her, but Hermione stepped out of its path.
She clutched her wand in anger, taking slow, dramatic steps toward him. He cast another spell in desperation to stop her from attacking him further; Draco feared she'd do worse with her next spell. But Hermione flicked her wand, seeing the spell coming, and redirected it back toward him. He hastily blocked it and made it disappear.
"Hermione," Draco spoke softly. "There's no reason to get hostile now, dear."
"Do not lie to me!" she screeched, making him jump at the sudden high-pitched voice she had. His body began to shake as she stepped closer to him. He had never seen her so upset before, and they had a rough past month together for him know how dangerous she could be if she wanted.
Hermione shot another spell at him. It was the Crucio curse…!
Draco rolled out of the curse's path and scrambled to his feet, sending another spell in an attempt to cease her attacks.
After that, it was an outright war between them. Spells flew with high speed back and forth; Hermione feverishly screamed out during her fit, and Draco tried his best to either get her to stop on her own or by the force of his magic.
The both of them grew sweaty and tired, but Hermione was out of control, and Draco had no idea why. It couldn't be because she was that mad about him lying to her and wiping out some memories. Something else was wrong. Extremely wrong.
"You've got it all wrong!" he insisted for the dozenth time, stumbling around a book shelf just in time to miss another curse. "You just got drunk, that's why you can't remember anything!"
Through a crack, he watched her approach, determination in her steps. He took a deep breath, considering his options. He couldn't harm her because of the Vow he had made with Potter, but he needed to do something that would protect him and something that would also make her reason.
Draco quickly cast a spell on his shoes that allowed him to walk without the sound of footsteps occurring. He slipped around the bookcase he had been hiding behind and circled around it, coming up behind her.
Hermione whirled on her heel, facing him, and Draco caught hold of the arm of the hand that she held her wand in, successfully disarming her this time. She tried fighting him, swinging a fist to the side of his head, but he blocked it and snatched her wrist.
Now with both arms caught, Hermione could only kick at him, delivering sharp, bruising blunts to his shins, and her kicks were getting higher up.
Using all his weight, with a grunt, Draco pushed her up against the end of a bookshelf, pinning her to it with his body. Hermione protested both in words and action, fighting him, deranged as ever.
"Stop it," he ordered, panting from the ordeal he had just been put through. "I'm sorry. You were right, I did lie to you."
All at once, she halted her movement and looked at him softly; most of her anger was gone. He had hoped for this exact reaction, taking a guess on what had caused her to go off the deep end.
Without another word, Draco pressed his lips to hers, tasting her sweet mouth with his tongue, attempting to distract her only for a little more longer, wanting her to forget everything that just happened between them.
He let out a yelp, crumbling to the ground in a heap, clutching his manhood into the cups of his hands.
"You think you can kiss me and all would be forgiven?" she shrieked, kicking him a second time. "Well, think again, husband!"
Review Responses:
Koi:
The imposter is not really an imposter, Draco's lying to her (Hermione was present when Harry allegedly died, so she believes it). Neither Neville nor Harry actually harmed Draco; he just making it look like it (to secure his story).
Tassana_Burrfoot :
I know exactly what I am doing, and you have no idea how fun it is to be so 'evil', hehehe. Really, it's great! I am glad you're liking the story. It's okay that you don't comment with every chapter, I don't expect it, nor do I demand ya to. Do what whatever you want!
Victoria :
Thank you so much for commenting! Hope my story can continue you entertain you in the most 'delightest' of ways, :)
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His Relinquishment