Bound by Blood and Fire
Chapter 3: Bound by Blood and Fire
The engagement was no longer a whispered rumor. It had become a headline, a wildfire consuming every corner of the wizarding world. Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy—two names that should never have belonged in the same sentence—were now irrevocably tied together.
And neither of them could stop it.
The Ministry’s Reaction
Hermione arrived at the Ministry the next morning, prepared for the worst. What she wasn’t prepared for was silence.
Every eye followed her as she stepped into the atrium. Conversations hushed, Aurors and officials barely concealing their stolen glances. Some looked pleased. Some looked amused. Some looked downright furious.
When she reached her department, Kingsley Shacklebolt was already waiting.
He stood behind his desk, his expression unreadable. "Sit."
Hermione did.
Kingsley exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Tell me it’s not true."
"It’s true."
His brows furrowed, and Hermione saw something in his eyes that made her stomach twist. Worry.
"Hermione, do you understand what you’ve done?" he said quietly. "Do you know how much power this gives the Malfoys?"
Her fingers clenched in her lap. "I didn’t choose this, Kingsley. It was forced on me. There’s no way out."
His frown deepened. "No way out? The brightest witch of our time can’t break a betrothal contract?"
She let out a bitter laugh. "Not when it’s sealed with ancient magic. If I break it, I lose everything I’ve worked for. And so does Draco."
Kingsley studied her carefully, then leaned back. "Then you need to be careful. The Malfoys don’t play fair."
"I know."
"No," Kingsley corrected. "You don’t. They don’t just want a wife for their son, Hermione. They want control over you. Over what you stand for. They’ve turned their greatest political threat into their own blood."
The weight of his words settled heavily in her chest. She had always known this wasn’t just a marriage. It was a game of power.
And she had just become their greatest weapon.
The Unwanted Suitor
Draco wasn’t faring any better.
His morning began with an onslaught of owls, howlers, and unwanted visitors.
His fireplace roared to life with an urgent call from Blaise Zabini. "Tell me this is a joke."
Draco groaned, rubbing his temples. "You think I would joke about this?"
Blaise let out a low whistle. "Damn. I thought your father had outdone himself before, but this? Marrying Granger? Mate, the world has lost its mind."
Draco scowled. "Tell me something I don’t know."
Blaise smirked. "Well, the rumor mill is already spinning. Half the old pureblood families are either furious or plotting. The others? They’re watching. Waiting to see what kind of marriage this turns into."
Draco knew exactly what they were waiting for—weakness. If he and Granger faltered, they would be picked apart like prey.
"I won’t let them win," Draco muttered. "I’ll play their game, but on my terms."
Blaise arched a brow. "And Granger?"
Draco’s jaw clenched. "She’ll fight this with everything she has. But she’ll lose. We both will."
And that was the truth neither of them could escape.
The First Meeting as Fiancés
Hermione hadn’t wanted to see him. But when a formal invitation from Narcissa Malfoy arrived, stating that a "family dinner" had been arranged to discuss wedding preparations, she knew she couldn’t avoid him forever.
The moment she arrived at Malfoy Manor, she felt it—the weight of the place, the history embedded in its walls.
Draco was already seated when she entered the grand dining hall. He looked up at her, his silver eyes unreadable.
Lucius and Narcissa sat at the head of the table, their expressions composed, masks of calculated civility.
"Miss Granger," Lucius greeted, gesturing to the seat across from Draco. "Join us."
Hermione sat, ignoring the tension in the air as house elves poured wine into crystal goblets. She didn’t touch hers.
"I assume you’ve both come to terms with the arrangement?" Lucius asked smoothly.
Draco snorted. "Oh, yes. I’m thrilled to be marrying someone who despises me."
Hermione shot him a glare. "Funny. I was just about to say the same thing."
Lucius chuckled, ignoring their bickering. "Then I suppose we should begin discussing the wedding date."
Hermione stiffened. "So soon?"
Lucius’s gaze sharpened. "The longer we wait, the more unstable this alliance appears. We need to show the world that this union is absolute."
Draco took a slow sip of his wine, eyes locked on hers over the rim of his glass. "What’s wrong, Granger? Cold feet?"
Hermione set her goblet down with a soft clink. "No. I just don’t like being paraded around like a prize."
Draco smirked. "Then you’re in the wrong family."
Their glares could have set the table ablaze.
Narcissa exhaled softly. "Draco, behave."
Lucius ignored the tension. "The ceremony will be in one month. A grand event. The world will witness your union."
Hermione’s stomach twisted. One month.
Draco didn’t react, but Hermione could see it—the flicker of displeasure in his gaze. He hated this just as much as she did.
But neither of them had a choice.
The Battle Lines Are Drawn
As Hermione left the manor that evening, she heard Draco’s voice behind her.
"Granger."
She turned. He stood in the shadows of the entrance, watching her with a mix of irritation and something else she couldn’t quite place.
"If you think I’m going to make this easy for you, you’re wrong," he said quietly. "I will be your husband, but nothing more. You don’t get my loyalty. You don’t get my trust."
Hermione lifted her chin. "And you don’t get mine."
He smirked. "Good. We understand each other."
But as she walked away, she couldn’t shake the feeling that neither of them understood anything at all.
Because if they did, they would have realized that their war had only just begun.