The Binding
Draco reread the spreadsheet sitting in his hand. The numbers blurred together, his focus on the witch currently sleeping in his bed before snapping back to the realization he’s not retained any information on the page. He shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose against the growing headache, his eyes finally returning to the sheet for the fourth time.
He’d made it halfway down the page before his mind started to wander again. Moppy popped into the room, leaving him a cup of coffee as requested with a smile and a small pat to his hand before disapparating away. The caffeine helped; his brain finally focusing enough to start working through the debts owed and payments made. Draco poured through the pages, pride welling in his chest seeing the growth of the family assets. The income from selling potions was growing exponentially, soon they would need to expand, maybe hire another potions master? He reached for the revenue spreads, September: two thousand pounds invested towards ingredients, slightly higher than usual, three thousand grossed from product, again on the lesser side than expected.
Tattooed fingers combed through the pages until he found the beginning revenue spread for November; a small spike in revenue could already be seen since Monday. Blaise already sent a letter telling him to get another batch of Baneberry ready and that the stores of Quod Peritt were already running low again; normally the batches Quod Peritt would last a full month before restocking was needed. Apparently, his witch’s potions bust ended up being more effective than he thought it was going to be. Theo’s Auror contact told them they’d performed a raid the past weekend of the Dugog warehouse and found the brew house, knocking out their entire operation in one go.
He snorted into his coffee, let’s see Prewett start selling in my territory again.
The door to his office cracked open, the aforementioned witch gingerly stepping in. He could feel his eyes glaze over, ragged from sleep and wearing nothing but his t-shirt, he’d never seen a sight more beautiful. Her eyes squinted in the light, wincing from the bright sunlight spilling into his office. Draco crossed the room in less than a second, a wordless wave of his wand spurring the shades to slap shut, “Hermione, you should be sleeping,”
She sighed as the light disappeared, her face relaxing slightly, “I-I need to call someone,”
His eyes narrowed down at her, hands coming up to caress her face, “No,”
Hermione could feel her blood pressure skyrocket at his callous refusal.
“No?”
“No,”
She shook his hands off, stumbling back a step, “Why not?”
A blond brow arched down at her before he stepped back to the desk, pulling up a parchment smeared with her blood, “Hermione, this contract is binding, willing or unwilling agreement,” his silver eyes creased with a frown, “Any calls you make, friends you have, jobs you hold, are a priveledge I allow,”
Her hand reached out, trying to snatch the paper from him, the movement jarring in her head enough for the throbbing to begin again. Malfoy leaned against the front of his desk, his demeanor was relaxed but the muscle twitching in his clenched jaw told otherwise, “No reading,” he snatched a pair of glasses off his desk, clearing his throat with a flourish, “Per the credence created 1746, the individual, Hermione Jean Granger has willingly admitted or been found to have broken the laws of the Wizarding world with the intent to cause harm or persecution of a member of the Malfoy family. As a result, all worldly possessions and self-agency are hereby withdrawn and granted to the head Member of the Malfoy family, Draco Lucius Malfoy. This right for soverignty over the prosecuted party may be willing withdrawn, in which the binding is not performed and prosecution of the guilty party will be hereby turned over to the Ministry of Magic,” his eyes arched at her over the glasses, “I, Draco Lucius Malfoy, hereby choose to institute the right of soverignty over the prosecuted party, Hermione Jean Granger, guilty of breaking and entering in the first degree. The blood binding is confirmed as of 02:58 on the morning of November sixth in the year of two-thousand eight. The blood binding will continue until willingly revoked by the Malfoy family or until a binding of higher priority is formed in accordance with High Ministry decree published 1746, 28.75.411A,”
Her head spun, “Th-this can’t be serious Malfoy, 1746? These laws can’t still be legally recognized,”
That stupid smirk twitched on his lips, “I assure you, it is,” she ignored the way his fingers slid the glasses from his face, “According to the laws, I have full right to choose how you spend your time,” he stood from the desk, eyeing her like prey, “The binding has already kicked in,” his feet took a step towards her, “what happened when I ordered you to stop last night?”
“I-I—It was like...,” she stumbled back from his pursuit.
“Like you couldn’t control it?” the low light in the room glinted off his predatory smile, “The binding enforced my orders,”
She stumbled into the couch, dropping hard with a hiss from the pain in her head.
“Naturally, there are restrictions to the binding, I can’t order you to perform illegal acts,” his knees hit the carpet in front of her, hands going to her knees, “But your living quarters, employment, interactions? All that’s for me now,”
His hands curved around, pulling her legs far enough apart to insert himself between. The pounding of her head reached the rythm of a drum pounding, her tongue wet her lips, “A-and the binding of higher priority?”
A smile split his face, “Now you’ve got it, until the marriage rites are performed and a soul binding is established, the blood binding will take priority,”
Her mouth opened, wanting to argue, think her way out, but there was nothing. A blood binding, especially a legal one, was nearly permanent until the holder of the agreement willingly revoked it. Malfoy has certainly made it no secret he wasn’t planning on letting that happen. Even now, his fingers curling around her knees, warmth spread through her. Her brain was muddy as he pushed himself further between her legs, their eyes level, frustration twisting his face, “You have spent your entire life looking out for everyone else but yourself, trying to fix the world or cleaning up after Potty. Never again. You’re the priority, I don’t care if I have to order you to take care of yourself ,” His hands went to her face, “Now you get to recover, not make calls for work or whatever else it is you were thinking about,”
The thread holding her pounding head snapped, “What about my life, Malfoy?” she roughly threw his hands off her, “You don’t get to control everything about me,” even the low sound of her voice shot stabbing pains through her temples.
His silver eyes hardened, dulling slightly, before his rough voice met her ears, “You’ve had fifteen years of this, Hermione,” his hand took hers gently, “The war ended, but you never stopped fighting,”
She met his eyes, regret lingering on his face, “You’ve gone, so long on your own, taking care of everyone around you, when was the last time you were taken care of?”
Hermione looked away, shame constricting her throat, it’d felt like since beginning Hogwarts she was working to keep Harry and Ron out of trouble. Longer since she’d allowed herself to truly be taken care of. The memories of quelling her parents' fear of magic brought tears to her eyes. The way she’d memorized Hogwarts: A History and learned pretty little charms to show them how beautiful magic could be.
His hands met her cheeks, turning her to face him, water shining in her eyes without the discreet opportunity to wipe it away, “The weasel was supposed to take care of you, supposed to make you happy,” her heart throbbed in her chest on beat with her temples, “I don’t even know what happened, but he was your choice,” Draco’s brows contorted with his anger, his jaw stiffening, “Your choice for the past ten years has been to drive yourself into the ground working and helping everyone but yourself,” his voice trailed off
“I-that’s not true in the slightest,” the whispered words left her lips even as she knew them to be a lie.
“Your spine must be made of steel to sustain everything you carry, Granger,” His eyes rolled so far back he was sure to see his own brain, “You fought in a war, joined the Aurors, look after your best friend’s hellion children on a weekly basis, at least, fight with the Wizengamot more often than that, and from what I do understand regarding your relationship with the Weasel it blew up so badly that your entire job was in danger!” he was nearly yelling now, the muscles in his face twitching as he held on to his temper by a thread.
Her jaw dropped open, that story was in the Prophet years ago now.
“Can you name one thing you do for yourself? Your own happiness?”
The breath rushed out of her chest, mouth opening without the ability to form any words as he paused, his silver eyes boring into hers.
“One thing? Anything? I will shred the binding right now,” his head shook, face dropping into an expression of total despair.
Caught completely off guard, she was frozen. Racking her brain for anything she’d done with the sole motivation of herself. Her reading encompassed hundreds of topics regarding the institution of laws for the benefit of magical beasts and muggle borns, her days off were comprised of housework and more research, she couldn’t even remember the last time she’d visited Flourish and Bott’s just to roam the aisles and appreciate the wonderful scent of new books, or the last time she’d stopped at Fortescue’s for their holiday specials.
His fingers wiped the tears threatening to fall, “Your choice has been completely and disproportionately in favor of everyone else, for the past ten years at least,” his gaze softened, “It’s my turn,” he whispered, the rough fingers stroked down her face, trying to stem the streams trailing from wide-eyed stare.
Hermione’s mind had gone blank for the first time since she’d been born, her mouth gaping, “I—I—“
“No,” his face hardened, pushing off his knees, “You need rest, not to sit down here and argue with me,”
Draco’s head shook, pushing his fingers through his already touseled hair, “O-Ok,” her voice came out shaky, as he pulled her to her feet, leading her to the door, “b—But—I do actually need to make a call, Dr-Malfoy,”, weakly tugging on her hand.
“No, the last thing you need to be doing right now is worrying about work,” he threw back with a scoff.
“It’s not for work!,” Hermione jolted her hand out of his, stopping the the threshold of the hall, the sudden thrashing making her head pang with regret as Draco stopped mid-stride and scowled down at her.
“Then what’s it for?”
“I—I need to call Ginny,” she wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly feeling exposed under his glare, “I just need to let her know I’m ok,”
Eyes pinched as he rubbed his temples, “Fine—then you’ll rest without fighting me?”
She nodded, the medication kicking in to make her limbs feel heavy.
“Then you make your call quickly while I supervise and go back to bed,” he sighed, evidently defeated as he stepped back toward the study, hand meeting the small of her back to walk her in with him. They stopped in front of the fire, and he strode across the room, fetching floo powder for her before collapsing onto the couch to give her a pointed look and a raised brow, “Go on,”
Her hands hesitated only for a moment before she threw in the floo powder, shouting for Grimmauld Place. Hermione shoved her head through the green flames anxiously looking around the sitting room, before Ginny ran in, sliding to a stop in front of the floo.
“Hermione Granger, where have you been?” the worried red head dropped to her knees.
“Ginny, I know, I fucked up—“
“Fucked up? Fucked up is the understatement of the century!” Ginny yelled, catching Harry’s attention from the kitchen, “Get your ass back here now! What’re you doing calling? Just get back here!” tears pooled in her eyes as Harry came into view, wrapping his arms around his wife.
“’Mione, we’ve been worried sick, you just dipped out in the middle of the night with a vague note letting us know you were heading to Malfoy Manor?” She winced at the disappointment on his face.
“I know, I’m sorry,” she sighed, “Everything’s complicated now –“
“Godsdamn right it’s complicated now, do you have any idea the type of protections that are in place for ancient properties like the Malfoy’s?” Ginny ripped herself out of Harry’s arms, shaking her finger at Hermione.
Her eyes closed, the bright flames and Ginny’s yelling did nothing to help her head, “Ginny, I-I know,”
The redhead dropped her face back into Harry’s chest, “Blimey, ‘Mione, I-I don’t think—“
“I’m sorry, I know I fucked up, there’s now a blood binding in place and—“ she cupped her face in her hands, “I don’t know how I’m going to get out of it this time,” her whispered words were punctuated by the throbbing in her temples.
“Listen,” She took a shaky breath, dropping her hands, “I need you both to not worry, I’ll contact you when I can but –“ Her eyes glanced over her shoulder, “H-He’s taking care of me,”
“Taking care of you?” Harry nodded, his eyebrows creased with concern, “What happened?”
“Evidently, the work and research I’ve been doing has caused my concussion to not heal so well,”
“Not heal at all,” The comment flew in over her shoulder, and even without looking, she knew there would be a glare leveled at her.
“Is that Malfoy?” Harry pushed closer, trying to look past her.
“Yes, it’s Malfoy,” she grimaced.
“Time’s up, Granger, end the call,” His authoritative voice echoed through the floo.
“Listen, I love you both, I’ll owl when I can, but I’m fine just recovering,”
Ginny’s tear-streaked face nodded, “Don’t you dare stay there longer than you have to. You know Harry and I will storm the manor no questions asked, just find a way to communicate,”
Hermione’s own tears surged forth again with Ginny’s declaration, she had to keep them away, her mouth automatically dropping open to tell them she’ll be ok before she was interrupted by a warm hand on her shoulder.
“Yes, yes weaselette, if anything happens to her you have first rights to chopping off my head, now she does actually need to get back into bed, I’ll owl as soon as she’s well enough to take visitors,” his words cut off the call as he pulled her back out of the floo, Ginny’s infuriated face frozen in the flames as the orange glare overtook them again.
She could feel her thoughts taking over again as the image faded. The contract even specified turning prosecution over to the Ministry if Malfoy didn’t fulfill it or release it willingly. Her tears leaked down her face noiselessly to drip into the carpet she knelt on. There were no options left, either she accepted Malfoy and his claim on her, or she convinced him to release it willingly. Hermione doubted if that was even really a possibility, Malfoy had made no secret that he planned to keep her. Even now her stomach flipped at the thought of just giving in. Of quitting her job just to let him spoil her. Even kids, the idea of a little white haired cherub in his arms made her entire body shiver with delight.
But she’d wanted a choice in it, needed a choice in it. He couldn’t go through and make all the decisions in her life without her input.
Her face finally dropped into her hands, the time seemed to run past while the walls closed in. She gasped for breath, finally letting the emotions drop. Every sense of agency or independence flew out the window. Being able to perform her position without outside influences or just the ability to spend time with her niece and nephew unscrutinized. Even with everything in her life changing, she could admit, he was right.
He was right, she spent entirely too much time at work, or researching for work. Or looking after James and little Lily with what spare time she did have. He was right that she was underappreciated in her job and that it made her the enemy of everyone, or constantly hiding out from being sacked. Even Ginny and Harry didn’t recognize how far she pushed herself, more focused on finally having time together again as a couple.
Her sniffling sobs were muffled through her hands as she could feel the threads holding her life together finally break. Strong arms wrapped her in warmth, Draco’s scent calming her, giving her back the center she so desperately needed, “Draco, I’ll give you anything, please dissolve the blood binding,” whispered words filtered through her fingers before her red eyes finally lifted to meet silver, “please,”
His gaze softened at her tears, “Hermione..” his sigh carried through the room, hands coming up to caress her cheeks.
“Draco, Draco, please, what else can I do? What else can I give you?”
He could feel his breath leave his chest, all thoughts in his head, gone completely.
The binding was performed, the betrothal contract was legally binding, even if not completed, she’d used his name. Her perfect, round face stared back at him, wide eyes shining with tears. He’d give her anything; already hypnotized by the perfect witch, all she had to do was look up at him and smile, and every muscle in his body would be compelled. Hell, he wouldn’t even force her to quit the Aurors even if the damn job was too dangerous or left her too exposed, he could only hope she could see the logic in leaving. The sight of her tears nearly broke him for the second time in his life; the pain in his chest was nearly overbearing, knowing he’s the cause.
Hermione’s tears flowed over his fingers while he was robbed of speech. Coming back to himself, all he could see was her, the curve of her face, drops lingering on her lashes, flames of the fire reflecting off her rounded eyes, cherry red lips, her fingers wrapping around his. The thread tethering his control finally snapped, and his lips were on hers, devouring her gasp and breathing her in. He needed her more than he needed air, needed her safe and happy and taken care of.
Safe, the thought forced him back, her swollen eyes, the tears, vomiting, she’s in pain. He wrestled with every carnal instinct he had, finally managing to pull himself back, mangled breaths gasping from his throat as he leaned his head against hers. Both their eyes closed against the onslaught of emotions, “Sign the betrothal,” his whispered words harsh as he regained his breath, “Let me take care of you,”
She jerked in his hold, the despair painted on her face.
“Hermione, you’re wasting away—“ she pulled out of his hold completely, hands going to her mouth as she fell back off her knees, “Y-You’ve dropped at least two stone since the trial—“
“Seven years ago!” Her anger burst through her hands.
“And you’ve worked eighty-hour work weeks since then!”
Her scoff was half-arsed as she rolled her eyes, “That’s an exaggeration,”
“NOT BY MUCH,” his words burst from his chest before he could stop them, the devastation in her eyes telling him exactly how much she knew it to be true. Draco climbed to his feet, his fingers raking through his hair before he could stop them, turning his back to her, he trying to find the strength to ask the question. He’d known since the beginning there was the chance she’d never forgive him. Knew that the things he’d done were unforgivable. Even now, regardless of whatever secret fantasies she harbored, she could despise him for the things he’d done during the war – rightfully so. Not to mention there was no part of his world that had become sweet, or soft, and she was aware of that by now. No part of him could argue with that.
“Tell me you hate me, Hermione,” The words nearly broke him, leaning against the fireplace mantle his hand went to the pain echoing through his chest.
Hermione stared up at the confusing man, his words stabbing through her heart like he’d pulled the rug from under her, “What?” she whispered
“Tell me you hate me,” his whispered words pounded against her chest harshly, “Tell me I’m the most despicable person you’ve ever met and you could never possibly forgive the things I’ve done,”
The tears began again, tracking down her face faster, “I-“ the words stuck in her throat, this was her out, but her heart felt like it was tearing in two. Does she hate him? No, she's never hated him, never. Not when he made racist comments towards her, not when she punched him in the nose, not when he looked down on her with horror when his aunt tortured her. Every façade he put up, she saw straight through to the scared child he was underneath.
And now, all grown up, taking control of everything around him she was sucked into it. Pulled under like a leaf in a whirlpool. He'd gained control of his life while hers had careened into chaos.
Her head shook as he crouched in front of her, hands coming up to wrap around her cheeks and force her eyes back to the stark fear in his, “Tell me now and I’ll carry you back to the Potters’ myself,”
“I- “ I’ve never hated you, the words stuck to her tongue. Refused to pass her lips as she leeched whatever warmth and energy and control she could from his hold.
His sigh seemed heavy with relief, eyes closing as he pressed his lips to her head in a prolonged kiss before his arms wrapped around her, scooping her from the ground. Hermione pressed her face into his chest, reveling in the strength he exuded.
“You need rest, love,” his heavy footsteps echoed around the hall as he carried her up the stairs, placing her on the bed far sooner than she was ready to let go of him.
“Please stay,” she whispered to his back, turning to leave. Draco stopped mid-stride, his shoulders tense. For a second, she thought he would continue, ignoring her ask. But he slowly turned back, unbuttoning his shirt before discarding his shoes, belt, and pants. His reassuring warmth settled against her back before strong arms wrapped around her, lips pressing to her temple.
“Sleep,” the whispered words almost lost on her as the comfort of his embrace lulled her back into a deep sleep.