Chapter Text
Hermione Granger hadn't intended to save herself for marriage.
For all her swottiness, she was neither particularly religious nor was she overly prudish. It just hadn't happened. Not with Krum. Not with her childhood friend that summer.
Not with anyone.
By the time the war ended, the trio had been on the run for months. And any thought she may have had about sleeping with Ronald was quickly dashed. Only six months after the Battle of Hogwarts, she broke things off.
It wasn't entirely his fault. Between losing Fred and joining the Auror program with Harry, Ronald had become intolerant of Hermione's (infrequent but intense) emotional upheavals. It was not for lack of love but rather a lack of understanding.
Her monthly stipend from the ministry's reparations act allowed her a comfortable existence without real need for employment. Hermione found herself wanting to soak in sadness and live in the bleak reality that her parents would never regain their memories— while Ron would rather move on and hope for the best.
His bliss was in the ethereal now, the shining future.
It happened one overcast evening in April. Exhausted from a long day of training, Ron came home to a bedridden Hermione. Nothing he said could rouse her from her cocooned form. Leaving for the pub, he returned early that morning and begged her to turn back into the girl he used to love.
Hermione ended the relationship a few days later.
It was as amicable a split as she could have hoped for. In the end, he kept the flat. She didn't have much and packed away her few personal items, corralling a remarkably grumpy Crookshankes into his enchanted cat carrier.
That same day she found a quaint flat in a lovely muggle neighbourhood just outside London. It was small but safe. And it was all hers.
For months as Hermione settled into her new place, she thought very little about romance. Perhaps if she had been older, and more experienced, she would have sought-out casual sex or one-night stands. But she wasn't so inclined. And it seemed like the young witch was set to have another lonely summer...
That is until one rainy evening in June when she woke up to the terrifying feeling of her wards being breached. Moments later, she heard three booming knocks on her front door.
No. No.
This couldn't be happening. Not here.
Drawing her wand, she bounded towards the danger, skidding to a halt before the heavy wooden door. With a flourish and a whispered 'alohomora', the door swung open to reveal a familiar rain-soaked, grey-eyed Wizard.
Draco Malfoy.
Her breath hitched as she retreated a step, nearly toppling backwards over her sofa.
"Granger." His voice was choked. Hoarse.
As he pulled back his full hood, she saw his striking white-blond hair soaked through as if he had walked-ran- through the storm to get there. To get to her. With one outstretched arm, the pale young wizard held out a letter to her, fisted in his large hand.
"What is this, Malfoy?" Her voice was nearly inaudible, but she approached the wizard nonetheless.
Keeping her eyes trained on his mercury gaze, she grabbed the letter with shaking hands. His eyes, inscrutable, never left hers, not even when she unfolded the thick piece of parchment and began to read.
TO THE ATTENTION OF DRACO LUCIUS MALFOY
In the face of unfathomable wizarding causalities both young and old, muggle-born and pureblood in the past year, the Ministry of Magic has invoked the ancient law of First Blood. In which the Ministry of Magic, when under extreme duress, retains the authority to mandate upon all unbound magical folk, the rite of blood binding, for the betterment and survival of the Wizarding World.
As the sole heir, both unbound and unblemished, to the Malfoy name and estate you are hereby notified of your duty to your house and your country to bind yourself forthwith to one Hermione Jean Granger, an unbound, unblemished witch of similar age and magical capacity.
Failure to comply with this mandate within 60 days of delivery of this letter holds the penalty of arrestment, banishment, or death for one or both parities. Pureblood families have been alerted in advance to provide adequate time to prepare family rites as necessary. Your partner will be notified within 24 hours from delivery of this missive.
All inquiries regarding this mandate shall be made in person at least seven days after the receipt of this notice.
Yours,
Ministry of Magic
Magical Populations Division
Looking up from the parchment, Hermione found those grey eyes boring into hers.
"Unbound, unblemished?"
Her voice shook, though she already knew the answer to her question. She could feel herself beginning to hyperventilate. Her breaths were shallow and quick.
The young wizard took a step towards her.
"The rite of First Blood is for virgin couples, Granger."
She panted out a breath and tried to back away, but her feet were stuck in place. Her head spun as the parchment fell from her hands. Before she knew it, the floor was crashing towards her.
But she didn't feel the smack of the ground. Cool hands and strong arms had broken her fall.
And those grey eyes...
Soft. So uncharacteristically soft.
They were the last thing she saw before the world went black.