The Gallows Chapter 4

“What’s wrong with me?” Hermione echoed, heat creeping up the back of her neck. “Nothing is wrong with me. I… I stopped your murder.”

But that appeared to be the wrong thing to say from the way Malfoy’s face paled, mouth working with a grimace before a humorless laugh slipped through his lips.

“A savior complex must be catching after all those years trailing after the chosen one.” He ran a hand through his loose hair, the ribbon forgotten somewhere within the courtroom.

“It’s good to see you’re still as arrogant as you ever were.” Hermione’s hands tightened into fists, but she winced as the words hit him.

Draco crossed the room until he was only an arm’s length away. He leant down until they were eye to eye, his voice, still a rasp of unused muscles, dropped low. “What makes you think I want to marry you, Granger? That I would even agree to this?”

Her stomach twisted, the heat coiling into nausea lodged within her throat.

“There is no agreeing to it, Malfoy. I invoked the law. You’ll be pardoned and we will be…” She trailed off, her gaze slipping from his.

“Wed.” He spat the word at her like a curse.

Wed to a mudblood, she knew he wanted to say. That he would be sullying his family line by marrying a muggleborn. Did those old prejudices still stand after all those years imprisoned in Azkaban with nothing but his conscience?

“Listen to me, Granger. Revoke the offer. I’ve made my peace.”

Just let me die. It’s what they want.

But whatever answer Hermione might have given was drowned by the door opening and the bonder striding into the room, followed by Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Kingsley. Behind them, however, three more entered. Pansy Parkinson was the first, her swinging black bob shining in the sconces on the wall, attention flicking from Hermione’s curls down to her worn heels. Blaise Zabini had his hands in his pockets, attention fixed on Draco, full mouth set into a firm line. Theodore Nott closed the door behind him, assessing each in the room but lingering on Harry.

Beside her, Draco stiffened at the sight of his friends. He flinched as Pansy wrapped her arms around him and Hermione wondered if that was the first time he’d been touched in years except to be chained. She could not hear whatever it was Pansy whispered to him, only the murmur of her low tone and Draco nodding, gray eyes sliding to Hermione and away again.

“Lord Malfoy,” the bonder, a wizard the size of Professor Flitwick, called from the center of the room. “Miss Granger, if you please.”

Sweat slicked Hermione’s palms and she wiped them on her skirt as Draco extricated himself from Pansy, shying away from the hand Blaise placed on his shoulder before moving to the spot indicated by the bonder. Hermione made to follow, but fingers wrapped around her wrist, sharp nails grazing her skin.

“Granger,” Pansy hissed. She turned, wide eyed, wondering what insults would be thrown at her, only to see the witch’s green eyes glassy. “Thank you.”

Hermione nodded before she slipped her hand from Pansy’s and took her place beside Malfoy.

“I admit the Gallows Law has not been invoked in some two hundred years,” the bonder chuckled, flipping through the tome he pulled from the inside pocket of his robe and restoring to full size. “Ah, yes, here we go.”

“Is the bonding different?” Kingsley asked quietly from over the bonder’s shoulder.

The bonder shook his head, conjuring a stand to rest his tome upon and gazing up at the pair. “No, the ceremony itself is no different than any other marriage, however their magic may… resist the bond as they have not come together through love and understanding.”

Resist the bond. Another reminder that Hermione was tying herself to Malfoy for the rest of her life. Not just herself, but her magic. This was a bond that could be severed only through death. She had known that before this moment, but now the knowledge weighed upon her like a stone.

“If you would, Lord Malfoy, take your intended’s hand.”

The muscle in Malfoy’s jaw ticked again and she wondered if he would object. But he only took a deep breath before extending his trembling hands. No… not trembling, they were tremoring, Hermione realized as she looked down at them. His body had obviously suffered from all those years locked in a cell, perpetually damp and repressed from his magic. And then she spied the copper band around his wrists and blanched.

“What is that?” she said, not taking his hand but gesturing towards his wrists.

“Magical suppressants,” Kingsley answered with a frown. “For the trial.”

“Remove them,” she commanded. “He is pardoned and to be freed. You will remove them, immediately.”

Even the clock seemed to quiet. But after a moment, Kingsley nodded, reaching forward to tap his wand to each copper cuff, vanishing them in a burst of white smoke.

Malfoy shivered, his eyes fluttering and blonde brows drawing together. Was it pain or relief that caused his face to tighten? Hermione thought she could feel his magic running through him, close as she was, like the rushing of the tide over the shore.

“Let’s continue. Lord Malfoy, if you please,” the bonder encouraged.

But Malfoy stood frozen, lids still squeezed shut against the onslaught.

“Take your time,” Hermione murmured.

His eyes flashed open, none of the life returning to his eyes but the gray more of a violet, like his mother’s had been. If she had hoped to find gratitude there, she was sadly mistaken. But still, he raised his hand, palm up, and slowly Hermione placed one in his.

Ice cold, as if he’d stuck them into a freezing river. The tremor was still there and she tried to ignore his flinch as their skin touched. His fingers flexed as though he would pull away before they relaxed, a soft sigh of defeat ghosting across her face.

The marriage rites were simple, a shorter version than the ones she had seen at Bill and Fleur’s wedding, then Neville and Hannah’s as well as George and Angelina’s. With a wave of his wand, the bonder cast a golden light around the pair.

I, Hermione Jean Granger…

I, Draco Lucius Malfoy…

…take you to be my lord husband…

…take you to be my lady wife…

Hermione knew what would happen next, how they would seal the bond, and yet still her breath caught as the bonder raised his wand high, looking imperiously between the two.

“Now, Lord Malfoy, claim your bride and seal the bond with an everlasting kiss.”

Again, that muscle ticked, but he slowly lifted his free hand to lightly touch the edge of her jaw. The caress of his fingertips against her sensitive skin was… strange. Her magic fluttered inside her chest in answer and she wondered if it was the bond attempting to take shape. It could have been a second or a century that Malfoy hesitated before he leant down and brushed his lips across hers.

A spark, a shiver, a sigh. She thought he might have lingered for a breath, but her lids fluttered closed of her own accord and her hand found its way to his chest. The rigid bone of his sternum was sharp beneath the silken fabric of his shirt, the heavy thrumming of his heart like the beating of a drum. And then he jerked back, his hand falling from her face, that blank look sliding back across his face — the same one she had seen that morning within his cell as he stared at the sea.

“I now pronounce you bonded for life.”

There was no rush of congratulations, no applause as there had been with the other weddings she’d attended. Only the glowing gold bond fading into nothing and Kingsley stepping forward, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“The ministry requires the marriage to be consummated within thirty days. There is a piece of magic within the bond cast that will notify the ministry when it is done.”

Malfoy, if possible, grew even paler while Hermione choked. “Thirty days? What happens if we don’t comply?”

Kingsley grimaced. “The invocation will be revoked and Lord Malfoy will be put to death.”

Thirty days…

Kingsley’s words were added to the cacophony inside her head as they made their way silently from the Ministry. Her friends gathered, but she could not truly hear what they said, only the hum of their voices and the distant feeling of their arms around her. Malfoy’s friends were the same, though he’d been quick to step out of their embrace in favor fixing his attention on the private floo Kingsley guided them to, nestled into a hidden panel in the wall.

Hermione stepped in first, turning to wait for Malfoy who stared at her for a long moment. She could not read him as he finally stepped over the threshold but she thought he might have stiffened as she threw the powder at their feet, calling out their destination.

“Malfoy Manor.”

They spun for only a few moments before the manor whirled into view. Sparkling black marble, high windows draped in velvet curtains. Hermione stumbled out first, casting a cleaning charm on her robes, unable to suppress the shiver down her spine. Were those hands on her arms? Binds on her wrists? Was that the scent of blood?

But the hall was silent. That was not a cackle she heard echoing across the floor. Not her scream of terror as the blade dug into her skin. Hermione took a deep breath, pressing her fingers to her eyelids.

“Not real, not real, not real,” she whispered, low enough she prayed Malfoy would not hear.

Finally, she allowed her hand to drop, rolling back her shoulders and ready to face his wrath, only to find Malfoy frozen inside the grate. He could have been hewn from stone, just as he had that morning within his cell.

What must it be like for him to have thought this day would have ended with his death, only to find himself back in his childhood home?

“Malfoy…” her voice was gentle as she took a step towards him.

His shoulders stiffened, eyes squeezing shut, and a spark of magic danced around his fists. Hermione reached out, but drew her hand back at the last moment when he jerked away, shoulders hitting the brick behind him.

“It’s okay, you’re safe… you’re home.”