Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Some Kind of Wonderful	By : Dazzlious Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Het - Male/Female Views: 12061 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from J K Rowling's fantastic books or films, I'm just borrowing and playing with them for a little while and get no monetary reward for doing so.

Chapter List
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Draco sighed as he watched the stone sink into the lake. He had never been any good at this. He picked up another and threw it, watching as it, too, skipped once, almost half-heartedly, then sank. Again and again, he threw stones, forcing himself to concentrate on the task at hand rather than on Hermione, back in the warm Library. After twenty minutes his hands were going numb from the cold and he knew he had to admit defeat. The light was fading fast and the temperature had dropped steeply. He needed to return to the castle before he froze completely.
As he walked away from the lake he wondered whether Hermione had got to the fifth year diary yet. That had been a very strange year, he reflected as he made his way back towards the castle. He and Hermione had both been made Prefects, not really a surprise as they were top of their year. What had been a major surprise, though, was that Weasley had got it, too, and even better still, Potter hadn't been deemed good enough, which had given Draco plenty to crow about.
Draco remembered wondering rather more anxiously than he wanted to admit whether Weasley had got off with Hermione over the holidays, the boy having finally realised Hermione was a girl. Draco felt sure the Weasel would have pressed his advantage once outside of school; he certainly would have done if he had been in the Weasel’s shoes. But to his relief, it appeared the boy was just as clueless, or gay, as ever upon their return to school after the holidays and lovely Hermione was still single.
Now on the verge of turning sixteen, she was looking more attractive and curvier than ever and over the course of the opening feast Draco had entertained several fantasies involving the beautiful, and at least in his mind, rather scantily clad girl, most of which involved him punishing her for being so damn attractive and he remembered documenting them in quite graphic detail.
As the year had progressed, those fantasies had become ever more explicit, he remembered, and as much as he hated to admit it, had at some points been downright perverted. His membership in Dolores Umbridge’s Inquisitorial Squad had given him far more power than a mere Prefect, which he had been keen to abuse, especially where the lovely Hermione was concerned. But even with Umbridge’s protection, he wouldn’t have been able to get away with pursuing Hermione sexually, at least not openly. That was, most frustratingly, still off-limits to him because of her blood status, especially now the Dark Lord had returned. Muggle-loving of any description was definitely not allowed.
Instead, Hermione’s direct opposition to him by becoming a member of what they had called Dumbledore’s Army had given Draco the chance to sate his frustrations in the way he always had done previously, by being nasty to her and her friends. And he was a little disconcerted to remember that he had succeeded in that goal magnificently. Still unable to reveal his desire for Hermione, the fantasies had remained firmly in his mind; and to stop the self-hatred that still raged because of this unquenchable desire, he had written page after page about both his desires and his weakness, his suffering on both counts released into the pages of his diary.
If nothing else, Hermione was going to have a good idea of how he would punish her if he ever decided to invoke the obedience rule, Draco realised. Not that he would, of course. He was determined that their marriage would be a proper one based on love and respect, and that meant both of them being equal. One of his lewder fantasies filled his mind and for a few minutes he immersed himself in the vision, but as he neared the door of the castle he let the thought slip away. Perhaps if Hermione was swayed enough by his diaries, she might one day be willing to allow him to play out some of his fantasies.
He had to stop thinking like that, the little voice in his brain told him sternly. Playing that way with Hermione was way off in the future, if ever. He had to concentrate first on getting her to accept him as her husband on a day-to-day level and there was no place for fantasies or punishments in that.
Draco gave an automatic sigh of pleasure as he entered the Entrance Hall and the heat enveloped him. It wasn't really all that warm in the draughty old castle, at least not outside of the common rooms and the Great Hall, which had large fires to warm up the cold stones, but it was a damn sight warmer than outside. He rubbed his hands together briskly, feeling the pain in them as they began to warm up. He unwrapped his scarf, leaving it hanging loose around his neck and rubbed his ears for a moment as he looked at the House hourglasses.
Ravenclaw were winning, he noted. At least if it wasn't going to be a victory for Slytherin, it wouldn’t be Gryffindor, either. Every year since he had joined Hogwarts the House of the Lion had won the House Cup, and all because of bloody Potter. Every year he did something that should, under any normal Headmaster, have got him expelled; but instead, the Gryffindor-biased Dumbledore gave him and his friends just enough points to win.
That made Draco wonder: had Hermione told her friends about her wedding and who her new husband was yet? What had they, or would they, think of her revelation? He was betting they wouldn’t be pleased, just as his father wouldn’t be pleased when he found out what Draco had done.
Draco knew Hermione and Weasley had finally become a couple at some point during what would have been their final year at school. He had discovered that when he had been researching her movements over the course of that year, trying to establish whether she was going to return to school or not. At first, he had been furious that Weasley had finally manned up; Draco saw any possible chance with Hermione disappearing, knowing how she had fancied the ginger-haired man for years, although Draco never understood that attraction. But then Hermione had elected to return to Hogwarts, while her dozy boyfriend and his mate decided not to bother.
Draco, too, had returned to school, ready to step into Weasley's shoes if the opportunity arose. Whilst his parents, and his father, in particular, would still not have approved of his choice of girlfriend — even after everything that had occurred they were ever the Muggle-haters — Voldemort's death and the failure of the Death Eaters to keep control of the Ministry of Magic had given Draco the freedom he needed to realise that he no longer cared what Hermione's blood status was. She could have been part-Troll, for all he cared.
Back at school, he had been careful not to cross her. He had no interest in arguing with her but was content at first to sit back and watch her as he always had, just waiting for the opportunity to steal her heart. But although his adoration of Hermione continued to grow, she appeared to have no interest in getting to know the new, non-confrontational Draco and he had begun to consider more extreme measures.
Then the Ministry had sent out their questionnaire and the new marriage law Draco hadn't really taken any notice of until that point became far more interesting. Unaware at first of the petition part of the law, Draco had wondered if there was a way to ensure he was matched with Hermione. Resorting to the sort of research she was famous for, he had contacted the Ministry and enquired about their screening process.
He had soon discovered that bribery wasn't going to work. The Ministry, aware that this law would not be popular, were rigorous about ensuring that the best possible matches were made and weren't willing to cut any corners. Disappointed, Draco had been ready to go back to his original plan of seduction, although seriously intensified due to the need to succeed before someone else was matched with her. But then his contact had told him about the petition part of the law and his heart had soared once again. The discovery that he could, quite legally, request that Hermione become his wife seemed almost too good to be true.
But he knew he was probably too late. Surely his rival, the Weasel, would already have staked his claim to make his beautiful girlfriend his wife. Disillusioned again, Draco had asked what would happen in the event a Muggle-born received more than one petition. The answer had given him more hope than he expected. In the event of multiple petitions, the screening process would once again come into force, and the most compatible match would be the chosen partner. As Draco thought of the red-haired man, his heart lifted again. He was more intelligent than Weasley and better at magic; surely he couldn't fail to be a better match with Hermione.
Buoyed by his discovery, Draco had turned his attention to the bonding ceremony. New as the law was, the ceremony itself was as old as the hills. However much it was couched in new terms, as all old pureblood magic did, it favoured the male. He had been alerted to this by the recent addition of the life bond — introduced, he had guessed, to stop Pure-bloods like his father from killing their partners, either literally or by invoking the obedience clause. It seemed a little strange that a law purporting to be for the good of everyone in the magical community would be so blatantly sexist and old-fashioned. It appeared that whoever had been charged with creating the new ceremony hadn't tried very hard but had cribbed large chunks of the existing one without considering what they were creating. Either that or they didn't have a clue what the original ceremony really meant.
For a moment the realisation that Hermione would have no choice but to do whatever he wanted once she was his wife had thrilled Draco. But he backed away from that thought pretty quickly. Although he wasn't above getting her to marry him through any method possible, he didn't want her to submit to him purely because she had no choice. He could have put her under the Imperius curse and got the same effect. Whatever happened between them, he was determined that when he finally made love to Hermione it would be because she wanted him, not because he told her to.
Draco hadn’t been too worried, though. He knew Hermione would be sure to research the bonding ceremony before taking part in it. That was just what she did. If she really had a problem with the wording he would request that the Ministry change it; surely the official wouldn’t be obstructive if both of them were willing. And if she didn’t mention anything about the wording, then neither would he.
So Draco had put in his petition and had been astounded to discover that Weasley hadn’t done so himself. Draco had absolutely no idea why he hadn’t, but he couldn’t help being glad there was no competition. Although it was unlikely he would have lost, nothing was entirely certain and he hadn’t wanted there to be any chance Hermione could get away from him.
Draco walked towards the stairs down to the dungeons and the Slytherin common room. He was still determined that his and Hermione’s marriage would be equal, but she was making it so hard when she wouldn’t even talk to him. He had slipped up when he had spoken to old McGonagall — not so much for asking for a shared bedroom, that request could easily be relinquished. But threatening to take Hermione away from school had been foolish. The words had slipped out before he’d had a chance to check himself, as had his comment to Hermione that she would have to obey him. It was no wonder she was convinced he just wanted to take advantage of her when he acted like that. He really needed to be more careful, especially if his diaries didn’t have the effect he so desired.
He cursed himself quietly as he approached the wall and spoke the password that would give him access to the room beyond. Hermione had already been jittery about his reasons for marrying her; his unthinking stupidity had just made things worse. He couldn’t understand why she hadn’t researched the bonding ceremony, though. He would have bet money she would have done, but he hadn’t wanted to mention it during the ceremony, knowing she was already stressed enough about the whole thing and was just looking for reasons to attack him.
And she still hadn’t even mentioned the rings.

Hermione had been surprised to find that Draco and his Slytherin Inquisitorial Squad colleagues had disliked Dolores Umbridge just as much as the DA had. But unlike the DA, who had rebelled, the Slytherins had chosen to back the vicious old baggage. Hermione had found herself chuckling several times at Draco’s description of the woman, although remembering the period she knew it had been anything but a laughing matter at the time.
It seemed his fantasies about her hadn’t stopped, either. Almost from the first moment he saw her in the Great Hall on their first day back at school it seemed he was having perverted thoughts about her. She had been shocked to read some of the things he had written; his descriptive skills certainly weren’t in any doubt. He had a very florid turn of phrase when the mood suited him. It had made her think of their earlier conversation where he had told her he would punish her for not obeying him and she had found herself blushing and at the same time rather worried at the idea that what he had mentioned in his diary would be the sort of thing he would choose to do to her.
Apart from the pornography that had spewed from the fifteen-year-old Draco’s mind at regular intervals throughout the year — and by that age she discovered he was very sexually active, although it seemed mainly to be because he was attempting to drive thoughts of her out of his mind, something at which he was failing miserably — he had also spent a lot of words on Harry and Ron. There was hatred for both of them, a deep, abiding hatred that chilled Hermione when she read about it.
And yet again there was the childish glee Draco couldn’t help but show whenever he had done something nasty to her and her friends. His descriptions of the way he had persecuted poor Ron when he had played his first Quidditch matches had once again managed to infuriate her in ways only Draco could manage.
Hermione had now read most of Draco’s diaries and was having real problems with her feelings about him. Previously, it had all been so easy. He was the mean Pure-blood who had never been anything but nasty to her, and it had been almost a given that she would hate him in return. But his diaries showed that whilst he was that mean boy she had known for so long, he was so much more besides. He was funny, intelligent and incredibly insightful when he wanted to be, and to top it all, he was so handsome it hurt. Even though she had disliked a lot of the things Draco had written in his journals, Hermione couldn’t honestly say she hated him any more, which was probably a good thing as she was stuck with him for the rest of her life; but was a little disconcerting all the same.

Draco had actually considered long and hard whether to give Hermione the last of his diaries. It didn’t actually contain all that much about her. In truth, he had been far too busy trying to get the Vanishing Cabinet mended and gathering his courage for what needed to be done to even think about her, except when he was in bed at night. His fantasies about her giving herself to him still happened when he masturbated, however, and were his one brief glimmer of light in a relentlessly awful existence, even if there was absolutely no hope of them ever coming true in real life.
He’d had Pansy, of course, and she had always been more than willing to do those things he wanted to do with Hermione. Now that he was older, he felt bad that quite often he had taken advantage of Pansy’s desire for him just so he could get his frustration over Hermione out of his system. He would imagine she was Hermione, closing his eyes to allow Hermione’s beautiful face to take the place of the horsey Slytherin girl’s. He was sure the times he had done that he had come harder than usual and had probably been far more solicitous towards Pansy than he generally was; after all, he had always taken rather than given where she was concerned. But it wasn’t really much comfort knowing that really he had just used the girl, however much she had wanted it.
Did Hermione really need to know about his bedtime habits, or that he had been so angry when he had seen her at Slughorn’s Christmas party with that disgusting brute Cormack McLaggen that he had given himself away and had ended up being caught by Filch, with the embarrassment that being dragged before the assembled party had caused, not to mention the unwanted discussion with Snape afterwards? Then there was his pleasure at realising that Weasley, his main rival for Hermione’s affections, had — completely mentally in Draco’s opinion — chosen not to go out with her but instead, had gone for the vapid although admittedly pretty Lavender Brown. Draco remembered writing quite extensively on that particular subject, especially as Hermione had been so upset by it. So perhaps there was more in there about her than he had realised.
But more written confessions of his feelings for Hermione aside, Draco needed her to see this last painful chapter of their time together before the world had gone completely mad. Now that he had opened his heart and soul to her scrutiny he had to let her see it all, had to give her the opportunity to see him at his worst and at his weakest and trust that she would also see the good that was in there — buried deep to be sure, but there all the same. Perhaps if she understood what he had gone through during that last year, she would find it in her heart to feel some sympathy for him.
He grabbed the final journal from the bed and before he could change his mind he headed for the Library.

‘This is the last one. I didn’t keep a diary last year,’ Draco said as he reluctantly gave Hermione the final journal. He looked uncomfortable. ‘I didn’t really have time to keep one.’ Hermione nodded understandingly; she, too, hadn’t had time to keep her diary up-to-date once they had been caught by the Snatchers. ‘And I don’t think I ever want to be reminded of how awful that time was,’ he admitted quietly.
Hermione looked at the diary Draco had given her. It was identical to the previous five in colour and style, but unlike the other pristine volumes this one was bent and battered and looked as if it had seen better days.
‘I’ll leave you to it,’ Draco said after a moment. He squeezed Hermione’s hand and gave her a weak smile before walking away, leaving her to read once more.
Hermione looked at the book with a slight feeling of trepidation. Although she had been careful to ensure that Draco hadn’t noticed, her emotions were already running high because of everything she had read so far, and she wasn’t at all sure she wanted to share any more of Draco’s feelings. But whilst it might have been painful in places, it had been incredibly interesting to see things from his perspective, and if nothing else she would discover how he had felt about being ordered to kill their Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore — something she was sure, having now read the other diaries, Draco would have felt terrible about. She opened the journal at the first page and began to read.
Two hours later Hermione closed the journal, the tears which had started about halfway through the narrative still trailing down her cheeks. She wiped her at her eyes ineffectually with a wet and grubby handkerchief, then gave up when she realised it was a pointless enterprise.
Now she knew why this journal had been in such a state when all the others had stayed so perfect. The pain, anger, and sheer terror Draco had lived through in that final year had been shown, not only through his writing but in the way he had treated the diary. Whereas the earlier volumes had been a general account of his days at school, written in the style of a letter to a friend, this last tome had been spat out, bucolic rants and meandered scribblings; the self-loathing, no longer just because of his desire for her but for the things he was being forced to do, becoming ever more evident and vitriolic as the year went on. This was no missive to someone he cared for but Draco’s attempt to purge his soul as his life spiralled wildly out of control and his attempts to satisfy a megalomaniac master failed time and again. Confessional, bleak and unremittingly painful, Hermione could easily imagine Draco wringing the book in his hands as he tried to compose the words that would free his soul from its agony, for however short a time.
Whatever Hermione thought of Draco — and after the journals she had read she wasn’t entirely sure what her feelings for him were any more — he had not deserved to suffer in the way he so clearly had and she was overwhelmingly glad there was no diary for the following year. Whatever he had been through whilst at Hogwarts must have been as nothing compared to that which he had suffered in his own home, with Voldemort still so angry with his family for their failures in their service to him.
She remembered how broken his father, Lucius, previously always so handsome and so arrogant, had appeared when they had been taken to Malfoy Manor by the Snatchers. How much worse must it have been for Draco, who was still so young, too young to be involved in the atrocities Voldemort was intent on wreaking? Now she could forgive him for not doing anything to help her, Harry and Ron to escape, although in his own way Draco had tried to help them when he had refused to identify them even though he had been well aware of who they were. She already knew he had been unable to stop Bellatrix’s torture of her. No one would have been able to keep that mad bitch from attacking her, so no forgiveness was needed for that.
Hermione looked down at the battered journal on the table in front of her. Draco really was completely and absolutely in love with her. Everything the journals had mentioned assured her of that. But she really didn’t know what to do now. Part of her wanted to run away, to get as far as she could from her husband, scared at the strength of his desire for her. But there was another part of her that wanted to comfort Draco, wanted to tell him everything would be all right and he hadn’t been wrong to share his most personal secrets with her.
She debated returning to Gryffindor Tower without talking to him but she knew that would be unfair of her, especially after he had trusted her with his memories. But whatever happened next she needed some time to process the things she had read and to get her emotions back under control. And, too, she needed to review her own feelings in light of what she now knew about Draco. She couldn’t spend any significant amount of time with him again until she had considered what all of this meant for them as a couple.
Hermione had finally stopped crying. Wiping her face with the sleeve of her jumper, she looked in her bag for a mirror and checked her reflection critically. Gods, she looked a mess, and the red eyes gave away the tears she had shed. Well, she couldn’t sit in the Library any longer. She had already spent more than enough hours there already and Madam Pince would be closing soon. And after such hard-going and oppressive reading matter she was really in need some fresh air and a chance to let her mind breathe.
She put away the mirror and pulled the handle of her bag over her shoulder. Breathing deeply, she stood and picked up the diary. She walked slowly towards the door, her mind running through the things she had read over the course of the day. She would head to the kitchens to get some food; then, after she had wrapped herself up warmly, she would go and sit by the lake to eat in solitude while she thought about what to do next. After she had eaten she would go and look for Draco, to give him back the diary if nothing else.
But Draco was waiting for her outside the Library, sitting with his back against the wall opposite the door. He jumped up as she came through the door and gave her a quick smile, which disappeared when he saw her serious and blotchy face. He looked at her warily, worried now that the diaries might have done more harm than good. Hermione gave him a weak smile, although her heart had sunk a little at the sight of him. She really had hoped for a chance to think things through before having to talk to him. She held out the final diary.
‘So now you know pretty much everything there is to know about me,’ Draco said quietly as he took the journal from Hermione, ‘all my deepest, darkest secrets.’
Hermione nodded. ‘It’s rather a lot to take in, to be honest.’
Draco smiled again, more widely this time. ‘I’m sure it is. I’m amazed how quickly you read it all.’
Hermione shrugged. ‘I’ve always been a fast reader. I need to get some food,’ she said, changing the subject before Draco could question her about what she had read. ‘I’m starving . . . and dying of thirst. It’s dusty in that Library.’
Draco looked at her intently for a moment, obviously debating whether to change the subject back. Suddenly feeling guilty at her cowardice, Hermione jumped in.
‘Please give me a day, Draco.’ She looked pleadingly at him. ‘I need some time to think about what I’ve read. I promise I will talk to you about it, but not today.’
Draco felt his heart hammering in his chest. Hermione wasn’t rejecting him outright and she wasn’t talking to him as if she hated him, either.
‘I’ll give you anything you want, my love,’ Draco whispered as he moved closer, pulling her into his arms. ‘I’ve waited for you this long; another day won’t kill me.’
Hermione tried not to cringe as Draco hugged her and prayed that he wouldn’t try to kiss her again. She needed to get away. Fortunately, Draco, sensing her unease, released her and stepped back to give her a little space.
‘I’ll, erm, let you get on, then,’ he said, feeling a little awkward now. He really wanted to kiss Hermione again and remind her that he loved her, but suddenly it didn’t seem appropriate. ‘If you need to talk to me I’ll be in the Slytherin common room.’
Hermione nodded, understanding, but Draco knew she was unlikely to come looking for him that night.
‘Or I’ll see you tomorrow at breakfast,’ he added, wanting to show that he was trying to be thoughtful towards her.
Hermione smiled and took his hand, squeezing it gently. ‘I will talk to you about this tomorrow, Draco, I promise.’
Draco smiled back. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, then, Mrs Malfoy.’
He let go of Hermione’s hand, allowing her to leave. He was pleased to see that she didn’t visibly cringe in the way she had the previous times he had reminded her that she was his wife. Perhaps that was a good sign.
Draco watched Hermione walk down the corridor, wishing he was going with her, but he knew he had to give her time to digest what she had read. To have consumed all six diaries in such a short space of time must have been overwhelming for her, especially to have been shown his deep and abiding passion for her; a passion she had never even had an inkling about until today. Hermione had told him she would discuss it with him once she had had a chance to consider and he truly believed she would. Unlike him, she had always told the truth and was unlikely to change now. He just hoped that having seen his truth Hermione would think him worth the effort of loving and would be happy to make a go of their marriage, as he so desperately wanted.

Hermione had spent a long and sleepless night thinking about everything she had read in the diaries. Whilst it was vaguely possible there was a more nefarious purpose behind her marriage, she now didn’t believe there was. There was no way she could doubt any more that Draco had indeed, as he had told her every time she had questioned it, married her because he was in love with her, or at least thought he was.
She had run the whole gamut of emotions during the reading of the journals. She had discovered there was far more to Draco than she had ever imagined. Although there was plenty she still despised about him — and there always would be after what had happened between them previously — she had learnt that the complex and intelligent man who was now her husband could also be pleasant and charming and that there was enough inside him that she could like and maybe even admire to begin to construct a relationship with him, a proper relationship based on love and trust, one that would last a lifetime — and not only because they had been bonded that way.
There would still be problems. There had been no sign in Draco’s diaries that his animosity towards her two best friends had lessened in any way. And she knew, too, that Ron and Harry felt exactly the same way Draco did. She was dreading how they would react when she told them who she was married to, and for that reason still hadn’t put quill to parchment.
Ron was going to be devastated by the identity of her husband. Knowing him, he would take it as a personal insult and would selfishly consider Hermione a traitor for not having refused the match, although she knew full well there was no way he had have been willing to leave the wizarding world and his huge family for her. Harry, with less of a personal stake in her future, would be more pragmatic; annoyed at first, but then accepting of the situation. Then again, he would have no choice if they were to remain friends.
And then there were her parents. Currently, they were unaware that was who they were, as she had performed a rather complex piece of magic on them in order to keep them safe during the war, sending them to Australia where they didn’t even realise they had a daughter, let alone one who was a witch. Hermione hadn’t yet returned their memories, having decided to complete her schooling first. She knew that although they had always been extremely proud of her, her parents had never felt comfortable with her being a witch and she had spent the months since the war ended debating over and over again whether or not to leave them as they were, knowing they would be happy in their ignorance even if she might sometimes feel the pain of missing them.
She still hadn’t decided which way she was going to go on that, but she was sure her parents wouldn’t be pleased to discover she was married at nineteen, whatever the circumstances surrounding it. She had been glad she hadn’t had to explain the marriage law and the reasons for it to them and wasn’t looking forward to having to do so if she gave them their memories back.
And then, of course, there was Draco’s family. She was under no illusions at all where they were concerned. Draco’s father, Lucius, had always detested her and had made no effort to hide the fact on the occasions when they had been brought together. If things had gone his way at the Ministry of Magic she wouldn’t even have been alive and it had only been due to a miracle called Dobby the house-elf that she had escaped Malfoy Manor with her life after that mad bitch Bellatrix had tortured her. Draco had been brought up believing in the racist ideals his family supported and had battled with it during his entire time at school, terrified his father would discover his desire for her. What had happened to make him no longer scared of what his father thought? Whatever it had been, would it be enough? She couldn’t believe Draco’s parents would welcome her to the family with open arms, however many times Draco called her Mrs Malfoy.
But at the end of the day, regardless of the haters, the fact remained that she and Draco were married and thanks to the bonding ceremony would stay that way for the rest of their lives, whether they wanted to or not. If she wanted her life to be anything but a nightmare, she needed to stop feeling sorry for herself for what had happened and get down to the business of building a marriage she was happy to live in.
It would be difficult, of that she had no doubt; after all, she had seven years of bad feeling and prejudice to have to try to ignore before she could even think of Draco in a more romantic way. She hoped, too, that Draco wouldn’t be too disappointed when she didn’t live up to his fantasy expectations of her. But she was sure now, after reading the diaries, that it was possible the two of them could be happy together, and she had to make that happen.
Which meant making compromises, Hermione knew. It was all very well for her to insist that nothing change between them, but it wasn’t realistic nor was it fair, she was a little chastened to realise. Ever since the wedding Draco had bent over backwards to accommodate her wishes when she had done nothing but act like a spoilt child. Was it any wonder he had threatened to take her out of school when she was being such a brat? And of course, he wanted to consummate the marriage. He had been waiting for the chance for six years.
Hermione sighed as she thought about sleeping with Draco. He was incredibly handsome, of that, there was no doubt, and he was definitely experienced, as his journals had told her time and again, in glorious detail, of all of his exploits. And he was so desperate to make love to her that she could almost guarantee her first time, and probably every time, would be the best experience he could possibly give her. She didn’t need to worry about not enjoying it.
But the problem was that every time she had ever considered having sex it had always been Ron she had thought about doing it with, never anyone else. Even Viktor, with whom she’d had a brief relationship when she was fifteen, hadn’t removed Ron from her heart and mind. She had been in love with the lanky, ginger-haired man for as long as Draco had been in love with her.
The sudden realisation of the parallel between her feelings for Ron and Draco’s for her was astonishing and she felt a sudden and surprising wave of sympathy for her husband. They had both been trapped by their desires, but where she had been naive and passive, at first certain that one day Ron would realise he loved her and then, once they had finally become a couple, that everything would work out beautifully in the end, Draco had been proactive in making his dream, which could never have come true in the world before the war, into a reality in the brave new world after it.
She could grieve for the loss of Ron as a lover all she wanted, but it wasn’t Draco’s fault he hadn’t had any competition when he had petitioned for her hand in marriage. She would do well to remember, too, that the Ministry of Magic would never have paired her with Ron anyway, even if Draco hadn’t petitioned. She was still matched to Draco, and if not to him, then to some nameless, faceless wizard who could have been so much worse, especially with what she now knew of the bonding ceremony.
And Draco had made such an effort, from the actual petition itself and dressing up for the wedding to supplying decent wedding rings so they weren’t stuck with the poor-quality Ministry ones. Hermione looked at her ring. She remembered now how it had glowed with fire during the ceremony, the patterns looking as if they were runes. She had not bothered looking at it since, her determination not to be married driving it from her mind.
She pulled the band from her finger and gazed at it intently. It was, without a doubt, a very beautiful item and knowing Draco it had probably cost a fortune. The ring was inscribed both inside and out, but Hermione was unable to make out the runes to decipher them. They were unlikely to be anything dangerous, otherwise Mr Threadwoody would have refused to use them in the ceremony; but she remembered how impressed he had seemed to be with them, so they were definitely something special. She needed to remember to ask Draco about them. Smiling, she put the ring back onto her finger, realising as she did so that she had already got used to it being there. Her finger had felt strangely empty and light when she had removed it.
As the night turned to morning, the birds singing outside her window as the sky lightened, Hermione came to her decision. She made her way to the bathroom to take a shower in an effort to wake herself up, although she was feeling drained from the lack of sleep. She knew Draco would want to talk to her as soon as she went downstairs, but it was a school day and she needed to concentrate on her lessons. Talking to Draco would have to wait until after classes finished, whether he liked it or not.
Anyway, she had things to sort out before she could face Draco.
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Some Kind of Wonderful