The Heir's Wrath
Chapter 2: The Heir's Wrath
Draco Malfoy was not a man easily surprised. He had spent years training himself to anticipate the unexpected, to always be in control. But when he returned to Malfoy Manor that evening, expecting a quiet night, only to be met with his parents' smug expressions and an announcement that shattered his entire reality, he realized he had been caught completely off guard.
His engagement.
To Hermione bloody Granger.
A muscle ticked in his jaw as he stood frozen in the grand drawing room, his gaze flickering between his father’s calculating stare and his mother’s composed smile.
"I must have misheard you," Draco said, his voice deathly quiet.
"You did not," Lucius replied smoothly, swirling the amber liquid in his crystal glass as though discussing the weather, rather than his son’s entire future.
Draco inhaled sharply through his nose, every muscle in his body coiled with restrained fury. "You expect me to marry Granger? Granger?" He spat her name like a curse.
Narcissa lifted an elegant brow, her cool gaze appraising him as though he were a petulant child throwing a tantrum. "Expect? No, Draco. We require it."
His stomach twisted.
"No." His response was immediate, absolute. "I refuse."
Lucius took a slow sip of his drink before setting it down with a soft clink. "You misunderstand, my son. This is not up for debate. The contract has already been signed."
Draco felt the world shift under his feet. Contract? His fingers curled into fists. "You signed a binding contract without my consent?" His voice was a deadly whisper, his fury barely contained beneath the surface.
"It was the only way to secure our family's future," Lucius said, unfazed. "The Malfoy name is still tainted from the war. Marrying Granger will cleanse it. She is the Ministry's darling, the symbol of progress and intelligence. And now? She will be a Malfoy—solidifying our bloodline in the new world order."
Draco let out a harsh, bitter laugh. "So, what? You expect me to bed the golden girl and pretend we’re in some ridiculous fairy tale? That we’re—"
"No one said you had to love her," Narcissa interrupted coolly. "But you will be her husband. And she will be your wife."
Draco’s nostrils flared. "And what if I refuse to acknowledge this absurd arrangement? What if I—"
"Then you will lose everything."
Silence fell like a guillotine.
Draco met his father’s gaze, searching for any sign of bluffing, of hesitation. He found none.
Lucius leaned forward, fingers still curled around his glass. "The contract stipulates that should you break the engagement, all remaining Malfoy assets, properties, and political alliances will be seized. Our name will fall into ruin."
Draco’s breath turned shallow. This wasn’t just about his future—it was about the entire Malfoy legacy.
They had bound him.
Like a pawn.
Like a prisoner.
His hands trembled at his sides, his nails biting into his palms as he glared at them. "You had no right."
Lucius inclined his head slightly. "We had every right. We did what was necessary."
Draco exhaled shakily. A sharp, ugly feeling clawed at his chest—a mixture of rage and something dangerously close to helplessness.
Then, something colder, sharper settled within him.
Fine.
If they wanted to trap him, to use him like a piece on a board, he would play the game. But on his terms.
His lips curled into a sneer. "Then let me make one thing clear." His voice was ice, his gray eyes burning like silver fire. "I will marry her. But she will never be my wife in anything but name. I will not touch her. I will not claim her. I will not bow to this madness."
Lucius smiled, pleased. "That is up to you. But make no mistake, Draco—you will uphold your end of the contract. Whether you wish to or not."
Draco turned sharply on his heel, fury crackling through every step as he strode toward the door.
He needed air. Space.
And most of all—
He needed to see her.
The Unexpected Visit
Hermione had spent the last several hours seething.
The moment she had left Malfoy Manor, she had marched back to her flat, poured herself a glass of wine, and begun pacing furiously.
A Malfoy marriage. To Draco. It was madness. Insulting. Impossible.
And yet, the reality loomed over her. Lucius had been right about one thing. The political landscape was shifting. The Ministry was full of old pureblood families trying to claw their way back into power. And Hermione, despite her achievements, had very few true allies.
But that did not mean she would accept this.
She had already started drafting a way out of the contract when—
A sharp knock echoed through her flat.
Her wand was in her hand within seconds. No one visited her unannounced.
With caution, she stepped toward the door, flicking her wand to undo the wards, and swung it open—
Only to be met with hard gray eyes, a scowl carved into aristocratic features, and the presence of a man who looked very much like he wanted to burn the entire world down.
Draco Malfoy.
Hermione’s fingers tightened around her wand. "You have some nerve showing up here, Malfoy."
His lip curled. "Believe me, Granger, you’re the last person I want to see tonight. But we need to talk. Now."
Hermione crossed her arms, barely restraining the urge to hex him on the spot. "There is nothing to talk about. I’ve already decided I’m getting out of this ridiculous arrangement."
Draco let out a humorless laugh. "Oh, by all means, do try, Granger. But you should know—the contract is magically binding. The moment our parents signed it, our fates were sealed. Neither of us can back out without severe consequences."
Her breath hitched. "What do you mean, severe?"
Draco’s jaw tightened. "I mean, if you break it, you lose everything. Your standing in the Ministry, your influence—everything you have fought for will be dismantled. And I—" His voice dropped into a dangerous growl. "I lose my entire goddamn inheritance."
Hermione’s stomach lurched.
She had thought she could fight this. That there had to be a loophole.
But magic—deep, ancient, pureblood magic—had already sealed their fates.
For the first time, she saw something in Draco’s expression that wasn’t anger.
It was resentment.
It was fear.
She exhaled sharply, her mind racing.
"Then what do we do?" she whispered.
Draco studied her for a long moment. Then, with a bitter smirk, he murmured, "We survive."
And for the first time since this entire nightmare began, Hermione realized just how much they had both already lost.