Harry Potter - Trophy Wife
Harry Potter - Trophy Wife
“Merlin, Mione, we thought you’d died! Where the hell have you been? You and Harry never came back.” Ron demanded. She glanced around the gryffindor common room and noted the distinct lack of Daphne or Pansy.
“Just been with my match, and some, er, other people.”
“Go on then, who’s the lucky bloke?” He nudged her with his elbow and she grimaced.
“You need to be normal about it, Ronald.” She warned, and he scoffed.
“Cannot be worse than Greengrass.” He sneered her name, and Hermione soured.
“It’s Malfoy.” Ron’s jaw dropped, and he stared at her.
“Bloody hell.” He muttered, before pulling her into a hug. “Today’s been mental, Mione. How can they do this to us? You’ll help get us out of it, right?”
“I don’t think so, Ron. Malfoy’s agreed to help me research the percentages, what information they used to determine them, that sort of thing, but for now, I think it’s best if we just make the best of it. You can at least try and be civil. Daphne’s lovely, you really could have done much worse, you know.”
“Oh Daphne’s lovely is she? How do you know that? She’s a pureblood slytherin, Mione, she thinks I should worship the ground she walks on.”
“You’re a pureblood too, Ronald, in case you’d forgotten, but I spoke to her earlier in her dorm and she was stressing as much as you are. She told me she was going to come and find you, so you two could talk, but apparently she never made it here. You should give her a chance.”
“I don’t understand how you’re so calm about this, you’re stuck with Malfoy for life. Malfoy! He made our lives hell for years! You aren’t safe with him, Mione, I won’t allow you to be near him! Why are you here convincing me that they’re such lovely people when you should be in there, wand at his neck!”
“Honestly, Ron, I don’t have the energy to argue with you about this. You can’t tell me what I can and cannot do, I’m an intelligent person with autonomy, I can make decisions on my own. Have you even considered that Daphne could be a good match for you? You can’t live your life stuck in the past, clinging desperately to prejudices that we fought to eradicate. You don’t have to like her straight away, you just have to try and have an open mind, just for once!”
She suddenly noticed the room was silent, and she turned around to find them all staring at her.
“What?! You all find this so fascinating, all the eighth years have to get coupled up. Well yes, it’s true, I’m with Draco bloody Malfoy, how interesting that must be. I’m so glad that my life is so entertaining for you all!” She yelled, storming to her dorm and slamming the door behind her.
She went straight to her bed, pulled the curtains closed, and sobbed. Everything she’d been ignoring, all the feelings she’d been pushing away were hitting her all at once. How could she do this? She’d had a nice day playing pretend with Malfoy, not acknowledging how deep their relationship already was. There was so much between them, all of it dark and heavy. How could she ever work through it all to find someone she liked? Someone she loved? Her future suddenly seemed desperately lonely. She’d never get to fall in love, she’d only get to tolerate the man that would be her husband, the man that had also been present as she was tortured in his house by his aunt. The man that had thrown slurs at her for years, simply because he believed she was inferior as a matter of her birth. He’d already told her he didn’t like her, would they ever get there? They could dance around it all they liked, but the facade of civility they’d built today was flimsy and false. Their past was too much to ignore, too big to be swept under the carpet. Was this a punishment? Had she done something wrong to end up being matched to a man that had made it his personal mission to make her life miserable? She would one day share a bed with a man that bore the dark mark, an everlasting link to Voldemort. She would have to have children with this man. She ripped the curtain open and lunged for the waste paper basket in the corner, making it just in time before her breakfast made a reappearance. She quickly vanished the mess and turned back to her bed, jumping when she realised she was no longer alone.
“Are you ok?” Harry asked her, his kind green eyes full of concern. He was perched on the bed opposite hers, hands in his lap. She waved her wand to draw back the curtains surrounding her bed, and sat on the end, facing her best friend.
“Where the hell have you been all day?”
“Just thinking.” He shrugged.
“How are we supposed to just accept this, Harry? We’ve been matched with the only two former death eaters in the school.”
“I know. I’ve spent all day wondering about the cruel irony of that. That you and I spent all that time fighting Voldemort to end up marrying the only two people in our year that got the mark.”
“For what it’s worth, I do actually like Theo. We spoke for a bit earlier, and he seems harmless.”
“He’s been a bit wary, which was to be expected, but there’s a kindness to him underneath it all, I think. To be honest, I’m far more worried about you.”
“Honestly? Malfoy’s been nothing but civil all day. He clearly cares deeply for his friends, and we had a nice conversation outside by the lake. I’m just dreading having to hash out everything that’s happened between us, it’s just so much. I don’t see how there’s a future for us when the past is what it is.”
“I’ve heard whispers all day that you’ve done nothing but reassure everyone, even the slytherins. You’ve been telling everyone to just talk to their partner, just give them a chance. Won’t you take your own advice?”
“Surely you can see it’s a little more complicated than that for me and Malfoy, Harry?”
“Does it have to be, though? The atrocities of the war, everything that happened, we can’t change it. You’re thinking too big, Mione. This is between you and him. It doesn’t matter what other people think, if you can find your own way forward, no matter what form that takes, then you should do it. If we are stuck with them now, it does us no good to dwell on the things they’ve done, only the things they will do, yeah?”
“When did you become so wise, Harry Potter?” She smiled. He chuckled.
“Hanging around you so often, it was bound to rub off eventually.”
They were quiet for a moment before she dragged a hand down her face. “Merlin, Harry, these are our lives now.”
“At least we’ll be around each other, you know? With Theo and Malfoy being so close.” She hummed in agreement.
“You reckon we can convince them to live together? There must be some sort of obscene ancestral property they’d be up for sharing.” She joked, raising an eyebrow.
“I’d not even thought about any of that. Merlin, Mione, we both scored bloody rich wizards. Does that make us gold diggers?”
“It’s been one day and you’re already scouting out the Nott family vaults? Shame on you, Harry Potter.”
“Says the woman about to marry the bloke that is the sole heir to both the Malfoy and Black fortunes. You’re set for life, Mione! More than life, a thousand lives. If we’re talking positives to this whole thing, there’s a big one for you.”
“Harry!”
“Hermione!” He repeated, matching her tone.
“I didn’t realise you had grand plans of being Theo’s trophy wife.”
“I’ve done a lot for the Wizarding World, I deserve it.” He sniffed, sticking his nose in the air.
She threw a pillow at him, and he laughed loudly. Harry was always able to cheer her up, and though she still knew that she needed to have a long, difficult conversation with Malfoy, the future didn’t seem quite as daunting knowing that Harry was right. Whatever happened, they would always be there for each other, in the same high society circles they’d be part of now.
She flopped backwards on the bed, feeling just a little bit lighter than she had before.
Clocking Off
Draco Malfoy couldn’t sleep. He’d been tossing and turning for hours, listening to Blaise’s incessant snoring. Merlin help Ginevra Weasley, having to put up with him for the rest of their lives. Theo talked occasionally in his sleep too, even his lack of consciousness wasn’t enough to prevent the unending torrent of bullshit that escaped his mouth. That, he supposed, was Potter’s problem now. He pondered the way their lives had changed so completely in just a few short hours. He’d panicked at first, knowing that someone was going to be stuck with him for life. He hadn’t really thought too much about the fact they were presenting him with someone that was 100% compatible with him, he’d only thought about how much they’d hate the fact it was him. Draco Malfoy, traitor, death eater, bigot. And then, in a cosmic joke of epic proportions, he’d been presented with the one person he’d wronged the most, the one person that had seen him at his worst in every sense. Hermione Granger had been trapped with him, for life, and there was nothing he could do or say to get her out of it. Because that is how he felt. He couldn’t comprehend it, he certainly didn’t understand it, but he felt a certain amount of protectiveness over Granger. From the moment he’d seen her wild brown curls in McGonagall’s office, he’d known that he couldn’t fuck this up. That he had to take this opportunity that he’d been given to spend his life doing something worthwhile, with someone worthwhile, and not fuck it up.
He also couldn’t sleep because he was terrified out of his mind. It wasn’t that he knew he’d have a future with Granger, it was that it had been so easy for him to imagine. He could see it all, as clear as day, and that scared him beyond belief. He felt guilty beyond anything that he could imagine a life with her, like it was simple. As if they were just two people in the world, without all the history and the pain. He pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes as the memories of that day at the Manor flashed through his head. The way he’d done nothing but watched as she writhed in unimaginable pain on the floor of his house. The woman that was going to be his wife had been harmed at the hands of his family over and over again, and he’d never done anything about it. How was he meant to look her in the eye, build a life with her, when he was who he was? He’d put in the work, he’d recognised his mistakes, but would that be enough? Would it ever be enough? They’d gotten on well when it had been just them, ignoring the overwhelming weight of everything that had happened, but that wasn’t sustainable, he knew that. They’d need to talk about it all at some point.
He was conflicted about that. He wasn’t about to grovel at her feet for her forgiveness. He might have seen that his elitist ideals had been wrong, but he still had his pride. He needed to do something, though, to show her that he was willing to try and put things right. Malfoy men had a long history of going above and beyond for their wives, and that applied to Granger now, whether she wanted it to or not. Objectively, she would make anyone a good wife. She was intelligent, obviously. He now knew she was funny, delightfully sarcastic when she wanted to be, and she was pretty. He could admit that she'd grown into her features over the years and her hair was less nest-like these days. She certainly was a more interesting prospect than the vapid pureblood socialite he’d been expecting his mother to set him up with sooner rather than later. No, he wanted this to work. He wanted her to be happy, and as she was stuck with him, he’d have to step up. He wasn’t who she deserved, but he was who she’d been given, so he had no choice but to be better. It was an odd feeling, knowing he needed to step up for someone else, but he wouldn’t be the cause of Hermione Granger’s misery any longer. He just felt entirely out of control, like everything was moving at a breakneck speed and he didn’t know how to stop it. He was in freefall with no hope of a soft landing.
It was at that moment that he realised he’d need to be friendly with Potter, and badly stifled the groan that slipped out. It hadn’t occurred to him before just how central to his life Harry bloody Potter was now destined to be, as Granger’s best friend and Theo’s partner. He’d been imagining Granger seamlessly slipping into his life, he’d not really considered the way he’d need to integrate himself into hers. Just how many of her friends would he need to apologise to for the atrocities he’d been a part of? Would he be able to get away with just one blanket apology to all of them if he gathered them in a public space somewhere? Merlin, being nice all of the time would be draining, particularly if sleep continued to evade him like this.
He hadn’t had a chance to properly talk to his other friends yet. He didn’t know how Blaise was getting on with the female Weasley, outside of his brief note from earlier, and he was unsure if Pans or Daph had properly spoken to their matches yet. He knew Theo was enamoured with Potter, though. His friend was playing it up, as usual, but there was truth within his words, subtle but noticeable if you knew Theo well. He was pleased his friend was happy, and if he was honest with himself, he was pleased it meant Granger would always have Potter around if she needed him. It was impossible to not like Theo, his manner was naturally open and welcoming, the antithesis to Draco in every way, and if that meant that Granger had more people around her in the future that made her more comfortable, that was no bad thing.
Having worked through his thoughts logically, he found his brain finally shut up. It was like he’d needed to finish filing everything away before he clocked off for the day, the space tidy once more. Tomorrow would be different, and probably equally as exhausting, but he was surprised to find he was excited to see what the day would bring. Anticipation, not trepidation for once. Perhaps the inherent gryffindor optimism was contagious.
Thoughts like that were exactly the sort of thing he needed to get a handle on, or his relationship with Granger would end up being the horrendously saccharine thing they’d joked about earlier, and he’d push away everyone he knew because he pontificated about the colour of her eyes instead of having intelligent conversations. The last thing he needed was to go and catch feelings for his wife, that would just be inconvenient.
Sleep finally caught up with him, and he flipped his pillow over to the cool side. His last thought as he fell asleep was that he didn’t even know what colour her eyes were, so he couldn’t pontificate, even if he wanted to. He didn’t want to know. He swore he didn’t.
The Overachievers
Hermione woke to the sound of sobbing. Truly, a wonderfully positive way to start the day. She pulled back the curtain, and found Parvati Patil in a ball on the floor. She briefly wondered if she’d ever made it into her bed, but pushed that away as she wrapped her arms around the witch.
“I was just thinking about how much Lavender would have loved all this.” She said quietly, and Hermione chuckled. This sort of nonsense would have been right up Lavender Brown’s street, she would have been very much in her element.
“Merlin, can you imagine? She’d be at the centre of everything, no doubt about it.”
“I miss her.” She whispered.
“Me too.” That was partially a lie on Hermione’s part. She’d never liked Lavender, not just because of the business with Ron, but she found her to be a little grating in general. Despite that, she still felt her loss. She’d been a big personality, particularly in their dorm, and it was clear someone was missing now. She knew Parvati had been close with her, so she chose to lie.
“Who do you think she would have ended up being matched with?”
“I’d say the matches are pretty unpredictable, wouldn’t you?” Parvati laughed at that, and nodded. She’d never bonded particularly with the witch, in fact she’d always gotten on better with her Ravenclaw twin Padma, but she wasn’t about to leave her crying on the floor for such a small reason.
“Is it going ok for you? There were so many rumours flying around yesterday about it all.”
“It’s better than I thought it would be. I guess we’ll see what today brings, huh?”
Parvati had been matched with Wayne Hopkins, a hufflepuff Hermione had never once spoken to in all her years at Hogwarts. Her dorm mate had been quite pleased with him though, so Hermione was happy for her. Not all of the pairs were quite as controversial as her own.
“If you’re going to have a heart to heart at the crack of dawn, could you at least be quiet about it?” Ginny groaned, sticking her head out of the curtains surrounding her bed.
Hermione laughed, dropping her arms from around Parvati now that she’d stopped crying.
“Sorry Gin. What time even is it?” She looked around and saw that it was a little after 7am. She scoffed. “It’s hardly the crack of dawn.”
“It is the weekend, Hermione, this time in the morning is obscene.” She shot back, yanking her curtains closed and apparently going back to sleep. Parvati had also crawled back into bed, but Hermione figured that she may as well get up properly. It wasn’t much earlier than she’d usually be up and about anyway.
She pulled her hair up into a ponytail, stubborn strands falling in her face as usual, and shrugged on her robes, with the rules being that uniform was always required in the Great Hall, regardless of the day of the week it was.
She made her way down to breakfast, knowing that none of her other housemates would be down yet, and wasn’t surprised to find the Great Hall fairly empty. She filled her plate with some toast and fruit, and was in the middle of pouring herself a cup of tea when a grape hit her in the arm. She looked up, and found that her assailant was a highly amused Malfoy, sitting with a grumpy looking Pansy Parkinson, who was picking at her plate, resting her head on one arm. Hermione made a decision and made her way over, plopping down directly in front of Malfoy, who was observing her carefully.
“You’re up early.” He said, pulling a piece off of his muffin.
“So are you.” She replied, meeting his gaze over the rim of her cup.
“He always is, he’s an arsehole about it.” Pansy muttered bitterly, and Hermione smiled.
“I take it you don’t usually join him?” Malfoy snorted and Pansy levelled her with an incredulous look.
“This,” She waved a lazy arm about, “is a ridiculous time to be awake on a Saturday, Granger. Normal people do not wake up this early, it’s not right.”
“So you’re awake now because…?”
“Because I haven’t slept yet, obviously. I was up all night thinking about bloody Longbottom.”
“I found her in the common room muttering about greenhouses like someone deranged, so I dragged her here with me. I didn’t realise you came down early too?”
“I do, most days. The more I find out about you, the more the 100% makes sense, and forgive me, but it makes me uneasy.”
“Feeling’s mutual, Granger, I assure you.” He smirked and Pansy gagged.
“Please don’t flirt in front of me, I can’t handle it.” Hermione was about to point out that they were very much not flirting but she’d already carried on talking. “What the fuck do I do about Longbottom, Granger? I know I asked you already, but you’re about the only person who tells me the honest truth because everyone else is scared I’ll hex them, and I need the truth.”
“Have you considered that this is your problem? You maintain your reign of terror, everyone is intimidated by how strong you are, and it makes you unapproachable. I’ve said it once, I’ll say it again, you just need to speak to Neville. No schemes or plans or anything complicated.”
“You know, I just realised that Longbottom is the plant guy, right? And your name-“
“Is a plant, yes very astute of you, Draco. Your wit knows no bounds.” Pansy rolled her eyes, and aggressively stabbed a strawberry with her fork. “What if too much has happened? He’s a war hero and I’m, well, not that.” Malfoy scoffed loudly.
“Pansy, please consider the people you’re talking to and understand that your situation is not a unique one.” Hermione said flatly. “You might work it out, you might not, but you won’t know if you sit here attacking strawberries instead of Talking. To. Him.” She emphasised the last three words, and Pansy met her gaze indignantly.
“I can still hex you.”
“I’d like to see you try.” Malfoy snorted, and Pansy glared at him.
“I don’t like this version of you, Draco. Just because you two managed to work your shit out in record time doesn’t mean you get to lord it over the rest of us. Not that it’s a surprise when you’re both overachieving swots.”
Malfoy gasped, holding a hand to his chest. “You cut me deep, Pans. I thought you loved me.”
“Absolutely not, you’re the worst. And no longer my problem, as it turns out. Best of luck with this, Granger.” Hermione laughed at their dynamic, enjoying seeing the two friends relaxed like this. In the past, these two had made her life hell, but both had welcomed her in with minimal fuss or argument. The war had changed all of them, that much was obvious.
“Do you always think so loud?” Malfoy asked, tilting his head slightly.
“Usually, yes. Is that going to be a problem?” She smiled, and he leaned forward.
“Did you just realise who it was that you’re sitting with?”
“As it happens, yes I did. It’s just all so completely bizarre. You get it.” She waved her toast dismissively.
“I do. How long do you think it’s going to take for this to stop being so weird?”
“Well we’re only on day two, you might need to exercise a little more patience, Malfoy.”
“If I could make an observation?” Pansy interjected, pointing at Hermione with her fork. “You two are by far the most comfortable pair at the minute, from what I’ve seen. I mean, out of those of us in contentious relationships, at least. On paper, you two should be the worst, but you’re just, I don’t know, getting along. I think that it stops being weird when you just accept that this is happening, and that the Ministry clearly got something right in their batshit deductions because you two are ridiculously similar when you strip away the purity bollocks. Like seriously, it’s a little creepy how similar you are.”
Hermione sipped her tea, digesting what Pansy had said.
“You think we’re some sort of beacon of hope and light? We’re only working right now because we’re ignoring everything.” Malfoy replied, leaning back against the wall.
“Mmm, I don’t agree. Granger knows exactly what you’ve done, she was there for the worst of it, you both know that. What is there to talk about? You could spend the rest of your lives rehashing the war and every fucked up choice you made, Draco, but what would be the point? What is it that your bit of paper says?”
Hermione was surprised to hear Pansy reference the parchment. Malfoy met her eyes.
“Don’t be smug, Granger, it doesn’t suit you.”
“Coming from you? Dangerous territory, Malfoy.”
“Sorry, what’s happening now?” Pansy drawled, clearly lost.
“The parchment, it was something Granger sent me after my trial. They’re her words.” Malfoy replied testily, not dropping Hermione’s gaze. Pansy snorted and hit him in the arm.
“Merlin’s beard, Draco, and you’re surprised you matched with her? It wouldn’t shock me if you two were somehow written in the stars at this rate. Someone should write a book about you.”
“Why? It’s just what I replied to his letter, Pansy. It doesn’t mean anything.”
Pansy burst out laughing, and Malfoy was suddenly very interested in the apple on his plate.
“Granger, I am delighted to be able to be the one to tell you this. Draco worships that bit of paper. He reads it every day, he always has it on him, and he won’t let anyone touch it on pain of death. He’s clung to it like a bloody lifeline ever since he received it, and not once has he mentioned that it was from you. When you say it doesn’t mean anything, you could not be more wrong.”
Her eyes widened, and she looked at Malfoy, who looked embarrassed. He’d told her he read it every day, but she hadn’t known just how valuable her words had become to him.
“Is that true?” She asked, and he looked up at her.
“Yes.” He muttered, reluctantly.
Pansy sighed loudly, resting her chin on her hands.
“Can’t believe it was me that got the ball rolling on this. What a story for the grandkids.”
“Pansy, please stop.” Malfoy bit out.
“Sorry, am I disturbing you? Would you like me to leave so you can gaze into each other’s eyes? I do have a man to see about some plants.”
“You’ll talk to Neville?” Hermione turned to her, voice a little higher than she would have liked.
“You’ve made it quite clear that you think I should, Granger, and you have a solid, if annoying, track record of being right, so yes, I am going to talk to him.”
“Neville isn’t a morning person, you’ll have a wait on your hands.”
“Oh thank Salazar for that. I couldn’t have handled it if he was expecting me to help him with his weeding at 5am.”
“What a domestic scene you’re painting, Pans.” Malfoy commented, apparently having recovered from his bout of embarrassment.
“You must know you’re in no position to make comments like that, Draco, dearest. I can just imagine you two doing the crossword together as you make dreadfully dull small talk over breakfast that I can only assume you’ll have at a hideously early hour of the morning.”
“You make us sound so boring, Pansy.”
“That is because you are, Granger. You both have very old souls. Elderly, decrepit souls that are looking to slow down even further. Very much giving grandparent energy.”
“Theo said we had parent energy yesterday, how time flies.” Malfoy said in a flat tone, and Hermione snorted into her tea.
“They grow up so fast.” She smirked, and he laughed.
“I just don’t get it. It’s like you’re perfect for each other, it’s not fair.” Pansy whined, and Malfoy met Hermione’s gaze.
He lifted his own cup towards her. “Overachievers?”
“100%” She replied, clinking her cup against his.
“Fuck’s sake.” Pansy muttered, and Hermione chuckled.