Chapter Text
Hermione woke up Thursday absolutely terrified. She had her scheduled meeting just after lunch with Professor Compton. Finally she was going to find out which of the 6th year boys she was to be “married” to. Who would be violating her and forcing her to obey his every command? Hermione spent her free time praying to any universal force for it to be someone like Harry. Someone who she trusted who would be kind and not monstrous.
She didn’t have any questions come class time early that morning. The information they’d been given was very thorough, which she greatly appreciated. Now she knew that each of their dwellings had certain protection spells in place that would prevent either party from going too far and truly harming the other. There would be wards to ensure any discipline was fitting for the crime. If something truly heinous happened then the male partner was within their rights to truly beat the female, but if some minor offense occurred, the husband would be forcefully restrained if they tried to punish too severely.
There had been an entire page detailing those safeguard, and it had allowed Hermione to breathe marginally freer. She could almost guarantee she wouldn't do something absurd enough to warrant a harsh punishment, so she shouldn’t have too much to worry about there.
The problem then laid within the rules decided on by her husband-to-be. They had few restrictions on what they could require of their spouse. If they wanted, they could have rules for Hermione to bring them to completion through various methods, but they were allowed to enforce no more than two a day. They could, however, force her to bring them to climax more often through disciplinary actions. Hermione spent the day with her fingers crossed, hoping for a partner who wouldn’t enact such punishments.
—
At lunch she only managed to get a bit of bread down, afraid her stomach wouldn’t be able to handle anything more substantial. All too soon, she was leaving the Gryffindor table, forcing herself to breathe calmly when she noticed none of her friends standing at the same time for an appointment. There went her hope that she’d be paired with someone kind of understanding.
Her walk to the classroom took entirely too little time, and Hermione had to keep telling herself that she was going to be fine! She had read everything she could and gone over every worst case scenario in her head. She was already seventeen for Merlin’s sake! An adult in the wizarding world! She could absolutely handle this.
With her resolve settled, she knocked on Professor Compton’s office door. Two seconds later it opened for her, Professor Compton greeting her with a smile and ushering her inside. Already waiting in the room was none other than Draco Malfoy, sitting primly in one of the two waiting chairs and sipping a cup of tea. Not a hair was out of place on his perfect little head and not a nervous twitch in sight.
She should have known.
Hermione only allowed the barest of hesitations before she soldiered on, taking the remaining chair while Professor Compton rounded his desk.
“Tea, Miss Granger?”
“Yes, thank you.”
A small wave of his wand had a cup appearing from the kitchens, brewed just how she liked it. She took a sip for the propriety of it and hoped her stomach would be able to handle more during this meeting.
“Alright, I find it best to dive right in. Mr. Malfoy, do you fully understand the rules and limitations I’ve laid out in the contract, as well as the expectations upon you as the husband in this scenario?”
“I do.” He took another sip of his tea, the liquid inside not trembling in the slightest. Not that Hermione was looking.
He repeated the inquiry to Hermione, substituting in the word ‘wife.’
“I do,” Hermione mirrored, foregoing the tea that would surely give away her nerves.
“Wonderful! Then let’s move onto the marital rules Mr. Malfoy submitted this morning.” Professor Compton pulled a file from the side of his desk to the middle and pulled the top slip of parchment out of it. He cast a spell to duplicate the parchment twice and handed a copy to each of them.
Hermione swallowed as she eyed the new rules she’d be living by.
- You will not allow any but me to touch you in any manner.
- The only undergarments you will be permitted to wear will be lingerie of my choosing.
- Each morning you will be required to bring me to release with your mouth, and swallow any semen produced.
- Each evening you’ll submit your body to be used in whatever manner I see fit to bring me to release before sleeping.
- You are not to bring yourself to release unless directed to do so by me.
- You will not lie to me under any circumstance. To aid in this, you will wear a ring provided by me that will inform me of the whitest of lies.
She didn’t even know which point to panic about first.
Professor Compton gave her two minutes to read and reread the list before continuing the meeting. “The only potential problem I see here is number two. I must stipulate that any lingerie provided must be capable of being fully hidden beneath Miss Granger’s school uniform. Otherwise it is a violation of contract in that marital things will be kept in marital dwellings. Understood?”
Malfoy nodded his acquiescence, and Professor Compton went on. “Other than that I find no further issue with anything listed here, Mr. Malfoy. Miss Granger, do you have any questions or clarifications you’d like to make of anything listed?”
She took a sip of tea then, hoping to help her voice come out clearly. “Number four. Does that take into account the limits that I’ve set?”
Draco’s eyebrow raised at that, finally marginally interested in the fact that she was signing away her body for the next month.
“Ah, yes, let's take a look at those. I was honestly surprised how short the list was, Miss Granger.”
“Yes, well, I’ve done my reading and I know what’s expected. I understand what’s required of me here.”
“Very good.” He copied her list to hand to them both as he had done with Draco’s list. Hermione took a sip of tea while they read.
“First limit is ‘no cramped or unnaturally dark spaces.’ I think that is a limit that can be respected.”
He looked up at Draco who nodded his understanding. “I agree to respect her limit.”
She breathed a sigh of relief at that.
“The second thing, ‘Semen, vaginal discharge, and saliva are the only bodily fluid allowed to be exchanged’ we can limit for now, with the understanding that it’s a subject for you two to discuss and potential try should Mr. Malfoy have a pressing desire for it. Should that be the case you will discuss this again with me to remove the limit before trying anything of the sort. Yes?”
Draco repeated again, “I respect her limit.”
Hermione only nodded, thrilled to have gotten this much.
“The third limit though, I’m sorry, but no. Your husband has the right to every orifice on your body, including your anus. We cannot allow ‘no anal’ to be a limit.”
Hermione nodded again, having expected this, even if she had been hoping for the opposite.
“That decided, let’s revisit your question, Miss Granger. Mr. Malfoy’s fourth rule in regards to your limits. He will not be allowed to find his release with your body in a cramped or unnaturally darkened space, nor will he involve bodily substances outside of those indicated until such time as we have that limit lifted. Anything else?”
“Number six. Is the ring only required within the marriage dwelling? Is lying allowed during the day throughout the castle?”
“Ah, I see. The rules of your marriage are in effect at all times. In your dwelling, in class, during meals, the library, the quidditch pitch, everywhere. So no, according to your husband, lying is never allowed. However, if you were to break that rule during class or something, he will have to wait until you’re both secluded in your dwellings before disciplining you for your misstep. A ring is ordinary enough that you can wear it on your person at all times without any indication that it relates to your marriage.”
He looked at her as she nodded her understanding. “And with rule number one,” she asked, sure that it was just poorly worded. “My friends can’t touch me? Can I touch them? If I stumble on one of my girlfriends crying, am I allowed to hug them? If I fall, am I allowed to accept a hand up?”
Professor Compton only turned to Draco for an answer. Draco, surprisingly, turned the full force of his icy eyes on her to answer. “You will not touch or be touched by anyone for any reason while you are mine. If you fall, by all means, accept a hand up. But you will do so with every expectation of being punished for the slight later. However,” his gaze lightened slightly and he took another sip of tea. “I’m not a monster nor completely unreasonable. You’ll be given the chance to explain the circumstances of the touch. Be warned though that only the absolutely necessary touches might be permitted.”
Hermione found herself trapped in his eyes until a hum from Professor Compton pulled her attention away. “I don’t like that. While yes, partners must be flexible in altering rules as needed, the rules themselves need to be solid to promote a healthy marriage. Hermione needs to be given exacting guidelines for what is or is not allowed with regards to touch. Mr. Malfoy you will take today to figure out more specifics with regards to rule one and submit them to me first thing tomorrow morning.”
He scribbled a note on his copy of the rules that magically transferred to theirs. PENDING CLARIFICATION was written after the first rule, and Hermione knew that any updates would appear there after Professor Compton received them in the morning.
“Great, is there anything else either of you would like to ask or go over?”
“No, professor,” Hermione answered, while Draco only gave the barest shake of his head. “Wonderful! Then pending tomorrow’s edits I congratulate you both on a successful marriage contract, and wish you the best in the coming month! You’ll be expected to meet at the dwellings to begin this project Friday evening after your final class. I’ll see you then!”
—
Hermione didn't know where the time had gone. One minute she was leaving the professor's office, and the next she was walking into her new marital dwelling with Draco, the door seeming to slam shut behind them. Hermione knew that the forbidding echoing of that phantom slam could only be in her head.
They stood there in silence for a moment, Hermione trying to wrap her head around how she’d even gotten here. Had she attended classes that day? Did she eat breakfast? Maybe she would be lucky enough to black out the entire coming month.
Draco moved forward to look around, and Hermione followed. Their dwelling had a small living room done up in neutral colors. The couch looked firm, the armchair squashy. Draco took the time to press a hand into each, confirming his own observations. There was a small table between them with a lamp that he tapped the base of to turn on, and again to turn back off. Hermione thought it seemed like a great place to curl up with a good book and she looked forward to doing so. An oval coffee table sat in front of the seating with a welcoming basket for them.
Hermione set her satchel on that table for now, glad she’d managed to not shake in doing so, and spared a quick glance for the basket. There were marital pamphlets in it, probably repeating information they’d already learned, and a variety of chocolates and candies. A small box lay in front of everything with ‘START HERE’ in large bold lettering. She reached to pick it up before realizing Draco was already moving on.
Behind the lounging area, a square wooden table sat against the wall with two sturdy chairs on either side. Draco pulled one out and tipped it onto its back legs. He swayed it back and forth before replacing it under the table. They had a small kitchenette which Hermione expected was more for calling on house elves than actual cooking.
There was only a single door in the main space, leading to their bedroom. Not plural. Because they would be sharing for the duration of their pretend marriage. Hermione couldn't help the sharp intake of breath at the sight of the large bed, both of their trunks waiting at the foot.
Draco glanced back at the sound, an eyebrow raised with a question she didn’t answer. He shook his head, continuing his exploration into the bathroom, Hermione right behind. She couldn’t help but think Professor Compton would be so proud of how she trailed after her husband. She rolled her eyes, mentally scoffing at that.
The bathroom was probably going to be her favorite room in the dwelling. After having to share a bathroom with all the girls in her dorm for years, having to share with just one person was going to be a godsend.
There was a sink for each of them and plenty of counter space for any products they might have. The toilet was secluded in a small closet-sized room. The shower was the largest she’d ever seen and had two shower heads. And the bath was clearly designed for two, with high sides and rounded edges for leaning back on. Hermione couldn’t wait for her chance to try it out.
Draco only nodded to himself, like it passed whatever standard he’d set for the space, before turning on his heel to head back into the main living area. Hermione allowed herself one deep breath before following.
They sat on opposite ends of the couch having still not said a word to each other. Hermione reached out for the small box she’d noticed before, plucking the lid off easily. Inside lay two small vials of amber colored liquid and a note that said ‘Bottoms Up.’
Hermione showed Draco the contents and then handed him one of the vials. “I didn’t read anything about this part. Do you know what it is?” she asked, banking on pureblood knowledge that was passed down through generations.
Draco unstoppered the vial and took a whiff. He swirled the contents and held it up to get a better view of the potion. “I think I do.”
Hermioone waited one moment and then another. “Are you going to tell me?”
He looked at her then for the first time all day. It might be the first time he’d ever really looked at her. Past the frizz of her hair and the know-it-all attitude she knew people accused her of. Draco met her eyes, contemplating something she couldn’t read on his face. Then he looked back at the potion and downed it in one quick gulp.
“Draco!” Hermione’s hand stopped in midair, too late to stop him.
“Not too bad,” he said, licking his lips and ignoring her concern. He glanced her way–his eyes somewhat hazy–noticing her vial wasn’t even opened. “Do you need help with that?”
She looked from her potion back to Draco, flummoxed. “No, I do not need help with it! I need you to tell me what you just took!”
He set the empty bottle down and then leaned back on the couch, looking entirely too comfortable for a person who just swallowed a mystery potion. “Does it matter?” he asked, head rolling towards her. “It’s part of this whole…thing,” he said, waving his hand through the air to encompass their surroundings, “so I don’t really think there's a choice in it.” He caught her eye then, head lifting from its lazing position. “Drink the potion, Hermione.”
Hermione nearly dropped the vial at that. Draco Malfoy had never said her name. Not her first name with nothing else attached. Not without a sneer to it. Just what had he swallowed? “You called me Hermione.” She didn’t know why she felt the need to point it out.
“Can’t very well call my wife by her maiden name, can I?”
But she wasn’t really his wife. She hadn’t actually given up her name.
A folded paper appeared in front of the basket on the table, distracting her. She read it allowed, since Draco’s head had tilted back onto the couch again. “‘Open me after drinking.’” Hermione pursed her lips, really not having a choice now. Her curiosity wouldn’t let her leave that paper closed. “Oh, bother.”
She uncorked her vial and drank it as quickly as Draco had, surprised to find the taste nearly pleasant. The effect was immediate. Hermione felt the tension draining from her limbs as the stress of the day fell away. Her thoughts no longer ran in circles going over every text she’d read for this class and the professor’s every instruction. She found herself just taking things in and letting them go. Thoughts like ‘the couch is comfortable’ and ‘Draco’s hair looks so soft’ occurred to her and then immediately floated away.
“Do you see now?” Draco asked, and she forced herself to turn towards him, the answer dawning on her at his question.
This was an Inhibitions Inhibitor. It varied by the drinker but most people felt tipsy while under its influence. It was a restricted potion due to its effect being that of a mild veritaserum.
“Relax, Hermione.” Draco’s voice drew her attention again, allowing her worries to float away. “It won’t last too long.”
He was closer to her now and Hermione had no idea when he’d moved. He plucked the paper out of her hands and opened it, reading it aloud for her. “‘Congratulations on your recent nuptials. As a way to ease the transition into this exciting new phase of your lives, here’s your opportunity to get things out on the table with a stress-free ice breaker. Answer the questions honestly with the first thing that comes to mind instead of filtering out what you’re worried to say. Communication is the key to a happy marriage, after all. Have fun!’”
Though they had signed the next month of their lives away already, the actual month didn’t start until tomorrow. Today was to be a day to move in, get settled, and get to know your partner if you didn't already. Apparently this potion and ice breaker was supposed to aid in that endeavor.
Draco looked at her for a moment, but Hermione had absolutely nothing to say to that. She had a vague sense that there was something to worry about here, but the specifics were escaping her.
Draco continued reading. “‘First question. What are you most dreading in the coming month?’”
“Being terrible at everything,” Hermione answered with her first thoughts as instructed.
“But you’re not terrible at anything,” Draco pointed out, which Hermione knew wasn’t true. “I’m afraid of hurting you.”
“But you’re supposed to hurt me. It’s in the rules. Any mistakes I make deserve a punishment.”
“Yeah, but that’s not really the same thing.”
Before Hermione could ask him what he meant, he read off the next question and her curiosity drifted away. “‘What are you most looking forward to?’”
Again, Hermione didn’t think before answering, “Having someone’s attention without wondering what notes they want to copy or what assignment they need help with.”
Draco frowned at that. “But you have friends.”
It wasn’t a question, but Hermione didn’t mind expanding. “Of course I do. And I love my friends. But sometimes I worry they wouldn’t stick around if I wasn’t useful.”
His brow furrowed, but he didn’t comment any further. Draco glanced back down at the card, eyes tracking over the question again, muttering it to himself. “I’m looking forward to having a space where everything is secret and the only other person allowed in on the secret isn’t allowed to say a word outside.” He paused before tacking on, “Or getting to touch you.” Draco’s hand reached partially toward her like he was going to fulfill that desire right then. “It’s tied,” he decided, dropping his hand limply back to the couch.
His answer confused her. Was he not used to having secrets? How was touching her a good thing? Likely by inflicting pain.
Draco remained in place looking thoughtful, so Hermione grabbed the paper from his hands to continue the game, letting his answers disappear. “‘What is your parent’s relationship like?’”
A soft smile blossomed on Draco’s face at that. The sight made Hermione sad, though she couldn’t decipher why. “They’ve had a mostly happy marriage. Father has always been firm, but it’s clearly out of love. He cares for mother more completely than anyone else I’ve ever seen has cared for their partner. And she,” his smile dropped, “she’s feeling very alone with him locked up. It’s like she’s spun out of control. She’s not the same.”
Hermione had no business feeling sorry for the Malfoys after the attack on the Ministry that Lucius had spearheaded, but she couldn’t help it when Draco sounded so pitiful next to her. She leaned closer, resting a hand on his shoulder in comfort.
“My parents have a simple happiness. They fell in love and achieved their dreams. They work together and cook together and read together at night. They’ve always gotten on well.” Hermione didn’t know what else to say on the matter, and she hated that her answer felt lacking. She knew her parents loved each other, but the way Draco talked about his made her feel like her parents were missing something. She hated that, letting the thought float away in favor of the next question.
“‘Are you a virgin?’” She giggled, finding the idea of Draco Malfoy being a virgin completely absurd.
He smiled at her, answering with a succinct, “No.”
“Next is ‘what-’”
“You didn't answer.” The interruption confused her, annoying her that her thoughts weren't following the conversation as well as she would like. Seeing her uncertainty, he clarified, “You didn't tell me if you're a virgin.”
“Oh, yes, of course I am.” Hermione knew she should be embarrassed and she was momentarily mad at herself for not at least trying to hold that answer back. She looked back at the list to read the next question, but Draco stopped her again.
“What do you mean ‘of course?’” He trailed his eyes down her torso and then back up, landing on her hair. Hermione ran a hand down it self consciously, tamping down frizz.
“I mean I've never had anyone interested enough to…change that.”
Draco gave her a look then that she couldn't decipher. “What?” she asked, knowing she'd never have asked without the potion still coursing through her.
“I just doubt that no one has been interested.”
Hermione’s eyebrows lifted, having not expected that. “I know Inhibitions Inhibitor doesn't necessarily force the truth out of a person like veritaserum does, but I can assure you I'm not lying.”
Draco shook his head lightly. “I don't think you're lying; I think you're naive. Plenty of people are interested in you. They just haven't acted on it.”
Now Hermione was shaking her head. “What makes you say that? Why wouldn't they have acted if they were interested?”
“Could be any number of reasons. Maybe they're intimidated by your intelligence. Or they could think you're dating Potter. Or they saw you with Krum and think he must be your type, meaning they don't have a chance.” Draco paused then, looking her up and down again and shrugging. The movement jostled Hermione’s hand out of place, and she let gravity pull it down, landing right next to his. “But I've seen people look at you, Hermione. I'd bet on several willing parties.”
Hermione frowned at that. She felt like she should be embarrassed by his ogling and declarations, or proud that there was interest in her, but the feelings wouldn't stick. “Are you one of those willing parties?”
Draco raised a brow, smirking. He shifted slightly, resting with their pinkies now touching. “I'm your husband, aren't I?”
Hermione scowled at that non answer, but let it go.
They sat in silence for a moment before Draco said, “I am surprised about Krum though.” When Hermione tilted her head in question, he clarified. “That he didn't fuck you.”
She blinked at that, mildly offended by the crude words, and indignant that Draco would think it was entirely up to Krum. But of course, she realized, it was up to Krum.
A soft smile took over her face. Krum, the male in their relationship, would have been within his rights to use Hermione to an extent. He couldn’t have forced her to have sexual intercourse (only a married party could demand that), but there were other allowances. If he had started with one thing, Hermione was sure it would’ve been a slippery slope straight to sex. But Viktor had never once pushed. He'd been respectful and kind and had never pressured her to go beyond her limits. Before now, Hermione hadn't realized just how lucky she'd been with him.
“Tell me what you're thinking about?” Draco asked, having been watching her face soften. His pinky lifted over hers to hook them together. Hermione watched the interlocked digits while she answered.
“Just…praising my fortune that the first guy who ever showed interest in me didn't push me. I would've given in.” She chuckled self deprecatingly. “I would've let him ‘fuck me’ simply because he payed me attention.”
Draco's eyes lost some of their shine and Hermione wasn’t sure if that was because of what she had said or if the potion was wearing off. It would be good to get back to themselves, except for the part where sitting here, talking with him, was so much easier in this state.
—
When they were both sobered up, Hermione shot to her feet, embarrassed by everything she’d revealed. She cleared her throat, loudly, before declaring, “I’m just going to-” she ran into the arm of the couch in her attempt to get some distance between them, “oh!” she exclaimed at the impact. “I’m just going to go unpack my trunk.” Draco didn’t acknowledge her. He just sat forward, arms on his knees, hands clasped as he stared at the floor.
They skirted around each other for the rest of the evening. Hermione returned to the living room to read in the squishy chair while Draco took a turn retreating to the bedroom. When she got up for a drink of water from the kitchen she opened her mouth to ask him if he’d like a glass, before realizing how ‘50s housewife that sounded and abandoning the idea. No need to give him further ideas to enslave her with.
They both converged on the kitchen when their dinner appeared. It was a selection of chicken cooked in various ways, and several veggie sides. A simple pie was their only option for dessert. They each gathered a plateful before turning to face the table.
“We’re supposed to eat together,” Draco reminded her, sounding more like he was telling himself that.
Hermione only nodded, heading to the little dining table. They were required to eat most of their meals together. During the week they could take lunch in the Great Hall with their friends. Everything else was to be here. In this small shared space. For an entire month.
Hermione sat on the far side of the table, waiting for Draco to take his seat on the opposite side. If they were going to coexist, they were going to have to stop dancing around each other like this, and Hermione intended to cut this tension and move on.
“What would you rather do, Draco: talk about the game and what was said, or ignore that it ever happened?”
He met her eyes the moment she began talking. It was the first time since they’d been potion-dazed that he had done so, and Hermione was surprised to find his usual icy stare to be absent. His grey pupils seemed light, open, and far clearer than they had before. Not at all the sharper, icier color she expected. What had he said this morning? He was looking forward to having someone to share secrets with. Was this part of his secrets? Was Draco Malfoy not the hard, cruel boy he fashioned himself to seem?
Internally, Hermione shook her head. Her thoughts were getting carried away, trying to infer entirely too much from his vague answers.
Draco remained quiet for longer than she expected. Did that mean he wanted to pretend their drugged conversation didn’t exist? That he hadn’t said he wanted to touch her? That he hadn’t looked at her– No, Hermione wouldn’t let the thought continue. She opened her mouth to agree to keeping their silence on the matter, but Draco finally spoke up.
“Neither. I don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen; I’m glad it did. But I don’t want to talk about it either.” He paused, deliberating. “I think it’ll just make me angry. Or frustrated.”
“Why–”
“We can talk in general though,” he added, speaking over her.
Hermione received that message loud and clear. He wasn’t willing to expand on that at this time. Maybe she could breach the topic again tomorrow.
“Alright…have you finished the Runes assignment?”
He lifted an eyebrow as if to say ‘schoolwork, really?’ but allowed the topic change. They had to start talking somewhere.
The late evening passed in much the same manner. They remained together in their dwelling, sometimes in different areas, seeking some solitude. Other times in closer proximity, attempting small talk as they did homework or read. It felt too quiet without the din of their houses surrounding them, but they made due.
Eventually, it was time to head to bed. Singular. The one they would be sharing.
“Hermione,” Draco called, stopping her from gathering her pajamas. “When we wake up we’ll be under contract.” Hermione nodded, very well aware of this. “And under contract you won’t be allowed to wear whatever you’re planning to sleep in right now.”
Hermione froze, realizing the truth in his words. She sucked in a breath, holding it for a moment. “I guess I need you to pick something out for me right now then…and I’ll need the ring, too.”
Draco walked to her dresser, opening a drawer and rummaging around inside. He pulled out a Gryffindor red babydoll nightgown with a wide V neck and the thinnest possible straps to hold it up. A matching pair of cheeky panties with a lacy trim accompanied it.
Hermione’s cheeks went as red as the clothing. She took it from him, not meeting his eyes.
“It’s the most modest of the options, and I thought the color might be comforting?”
Hermione glanced at him then, touched by the thoughtfulness.
“But, for tonight, I won’t look, if you want. Get changed in the bathroom and I’ll face away until you’re under the covers. Tomorrow though, you can’t hide from me.”
Hermione nodded her assent. “Thank you,” she acknowledged. She hadn’t expected this kindness.
She peeked through the bathroom door when she was done, finding a shirtless Draco leaning against the headboard with his body firmly turned away from her while he read. It was hard not to stare at the defined lines of his back as she crossed the distance between them. His usual robes and finely tailored shirts belied the muscles hidden underneath, likely from years of Quidditch. An arm holding a book had never been quite so enticing to her before.
Pushing the thought away, Hermione pulled back the covers and climbed up beside Draco. She slid down and tugged the blanket up until her chest–which was far more exposed through the V of her nightie than she would like–was covered.
“Okay,” she whispered.
Draco turned just his head at first, seeing that she was decent before allowing his whole body to swing around. He placed his book on his nightstand before grabbing a small box off of it. Opening it revealed a small, simple gold band. She took it when he held it out, gave it a quick once over, and then slid it onto her left ring finger.
Hermione held her hand above her, fingers splayed. She didn’t feel any different; no magic seemed to be at work from the small band. Pulling her hand back, she twisted the ring around her finger, getting a feel for it, but when she tried to take it off, it wouldn’t budge.
Noticing her efforts, Draco explained, “I’m the only one who can remove it once it’s on.” He grabbed her wrist gently and demonstrated by plucking the band easily off of her. Then he offered it back for her to adorn once again.
Draco slid further under the covers and turned out the lights with a swish of his wand. With a muttered “Goodnight,” they turned on their sides, facing away from each other. Hermione fiddled with the ring, worries about the following day playing on a loop in her head.