Desperate Times Call for Drastic Measures

"Well, well, if it isn't the newest Lady Malfoy."

The words echoed through the hall that intersected where Hermione Granger was patrolling. She groaned inwardly, dropping her head in a silent prayer to any god that this was just a bad dream at the end of a nightmare of a day.

This morning had opened on a very low, very sour note as the headline of the Prophet flashed MANDATE PASSED: All Pure-bloods Required to Wed Half-bloods and Muggle-borns. The story below had touted the Ministry for fining suspected pure-blood supremacists and forcing them to breed with non-pure-bloods. This would increase the gene pool exponentially and repopulate Wizarding Britain. Of course, the Ministry thought nothing of mandating compliance from said Muggle-borns and half-bloods, who would just jump at the opportunity to do their 'civic duty.'

Hermione knew better; it actually meant that Muggle-borns and half-bloods were for sale, and to the highest bidder. She had spent every spare moment since the bill had been introduced researching and fighting it, but she, along with the others who had worked tirelessly, had lost. It had only been six weeks since the fall of Voldemort when the bill had been proposed. That had been five months ago, and instead of preparing to retrieve her parents from Australia and having a regular family Christmas, she was getting ready to execute her escape plan. If her travels with Harry had taught her anything, it was to always have a plan B.

Hermione flicked her wand over herself, casting a silent noceo impedemenere. It was a good spell to use around school, as it protected from mischief without being offensive. Steeling herself, she declared, "You must be mistaken, Ferret, since there is only a Mudblood in this corridor, and she most certainly isn't getting married, especially to you."

Hermione's voice rang clear at first, but she grumbled the last bit, unsure of whether or not she wanted to provoke him.

Hermione hadn't slowed her patrolling for him, so she was very surprised to feel his hand, firm but gentle, on her shoulder. When had Malfoy ever touched her without malicious intent? Hermione tried to shake him off; she was unsuccessful. Draco gently pulled her into what might have been a casual embrace, had they not been at best bitter rivals but really bitter enemies for the last six and a half years.

Draco smiled softly and smirked as he licked his lips and looked her over. "You will make the loveliest bride in years, and our wedding will be the talk of the wizarding world for seasons."

Shocked by his insistence, Hermione made no move, but stared at him as if he was thicker than two short planks nailed together. "Malfoy, listen carefully, because I'm not going to repeat myself: I am not marrying." Hermione tried to keep it simple since he was acting so dimly.

"Winter weddings are unusual, right?" Draco carried on as if she hadn't spoken. "People are always going for spring or summer for the weather or flowers. You don't have to bother yourself, though. It's nearly planned...colours are navy and crème, which is better than white for your skin tone...the fitting is this weekend. Do you prefer fairy lights or candles?" Draco asked seriously.

Hermione smiled indulgently before trying to pull away. "Whatever your little black heart desires."

"I can't wait for our wedding night, when I can break your maidenhead and finally make you mine," Draco said, leaning closer to her as if he were sharing his deepest secrets. "Shall we save it? I know a book of spells..." Draco whispered to her.

Hermione was put off, to say the least, and tried to pull his hands apart behind her back. "Are you high, Malfoy?"

Draco pulled her closer, completely unfazed. "High, Granger?" He turned their bodies toward a little alcove and pressed her into it, leaning against her gently. She was so soft and small before him. If it weren't so unseemly, he'd snog her here in the hall.

"On drugs? Potions? Firewhisky?" Hermione dug her heels into the stone floor and bobbed out from Draco's embrace. She'd been so exhausted that she'd let her guard down a little and was now furious with herself.

She was only made more frustrated when Draco got aggressive and pulled her roughly against him as he turned and leaned on the wall. His left hand was caressing her hair now, and she could see he ached to run his hand down her cheek. Hermione could feel the protection spell tingling now, as if it, too, was unsure of Draco's motives.

"No. Just relishing my prize," Draco said softly, trying to keep his temper. He had known she would resist; it was part of the fun. He liked her spitfire nature. He liked that she out-performed him in courses. He liked that she was a challenge, his unicorn, his Holy Grail, his uncatchable Snitch. Every time she earned points, or surpassed him in any way, it made the chase that much better. Now, she was his.

"I'm not your bloody prize, Malfoy." Hermione gritted her teeth and stomped rudely on his instep. Draco jumped, and Hermione scurried down the hall. Draco turned to follow her; he could hear her heels clicking on the stones. She turned to shout back at him before taking the moving stairs, "Leave me alone, Malfoy. I'm not marrying you!"

"What are you going to do? Break the law? Give up your wand? Miss the N.E.W.T.s?" Draco stopped and called after her. When she was out of sight, he Disillusioned himself so he could follow her covertly. He made himself perfectly silent and smiled as he enjoyed this little bit of snake and mouse. Draco smiled and shook his head as he watched her muttering angrily at herself for letting her guard down and cursing the Ministry and ferrets. He followed her up to Gryffindor Tower, where she lived in the Head Girl's suite. Of course Hermione was Head Girl; she was the best and certainly deserved a room to herself at the end of a long day.

Before Hermione went into her room, she looked around to make sure she hadn't been followed, but Draco followed her in anyway, as he had done every night since the beginning of the year. Each night, he'd watch her study, read, or sleep until it was very late. Then he'd retreat to his room and wait for the next night.

Tonight would be different. He would mark her tonight. He had almost held off in talking to her. Hermione would see the announcement in the paper tomorrow morning, and Draco was interested in her reaction, as well as everyone else's. Ultimately, though, he wanted to see her face, touch her, stake his claim in person.

Draco watched as Hermione cancelled some spells in her room and got ready for bed. She pulled the covers up under her arms and set about reading, her face slowly relaxing as she forgot about him. Hermione was so beautiful when she wasn't scowling. Once she was engrossed in her book, Draco lifted his wand and cast a spell that made Hermione drop the book in her lap in bed and fall into a deep, magical sleep.

He moved to sit next to her and began stroking her arms. His hand ran over her breasts, gently petting them before adjusting her so she lay properly in bed. Draco pulled her hair out from under her and spread it across her pillow. It was so soft underneath, and he loved to see it fanned out on her pillow. When Draco had especially bad days, he would brush her hair while she slept. He would never touch her too much, though, because he didn't want to disturb her sleep. However, between the time in the hall and excitement that she'd be his soon, he was already ready to fuck her. He stood up and adjusted his erection before taking several deep, cleansing breaths with his eyes shut.

Draco knew he wouldn't be able to stay as long as he would have liked; instead, he would head straight to his room and wank, making a mental note to grab today's knickers from the hamper. However, first Draco wanted to mark her. He positioned himself on the side of her bed, his wand hand behind her neck. He began to chant softly, and he could feel the tattoo on the left side of his chest heat and sting. The ancient magic coursed through his arm, and soon his palm began to tingle and burn a tiny reproduction of his dragon onto the nape of her neck.

Hermione whimpered beneath him. Draco took his free hand and soothingly stroked her face, cooing softly to her for a moment until she quieted. He smiled as he finished the chant and carefully lifted her head up to check his work. It was perfect. For now it would just mark her as his; no other wizard could touch her. When they were married, it could bind her to him, and Hermione Granger...soon to be Hermione Malfoy...would never be away from him unless he permitted it.

Draco adoringly stroked her hair for a few more minutes before Summoning her knickers and making his exit. As he strolled through the hall, he almost felt like whistling, but settled instead for fingering her cotton underthings in his pocket.

Hermione woke up with the sun the following day. She stretched and sighed, completely unaware of her hair perfectly placed on the pillow below her or of the mark on her neck. Her mind was already on to the day's business, and she was feeling melancholy about having to do this so soon. However, she was not about to marry Malfoy or anyone else. Hermione felt she deserved a little more from wizarding Britain than to squirt out blond ferrets for the rest of her days. Of course magic was primal, but did wizards have to be so sodding primitive?

Hermione would give Malfoy one chance to rescind his petition. If he didn't, she'd launch her protest. She'd already set it up with Colin Creevey to record the whole thing for posterity. After last night and the way Draco had acted, she was sure he wouldn't leave her be, so she'd better look good for Colin and their latest media barrage. Hermione brushed out her hair and twisted it into a great pile of ringlets with her wand. She put on a little make-up and pulled on her uniform, making sure her tie was straight and smooth and her shoes were highly polished.

Digging into the back of her wardrobe, she grabbed a backpack that she'd made up for this very event. Hermione had made sure it appeared identical to her school bag, but filled it with what she thought she'd need after breakfast. During her free period yesterday, she'd verified everything and set it aside, knowing it was only a matter of time until someone tried to buy her.

Fortunately, Hermione's friends all knew what she was about to do. They'd all talked tearfully about it last night before patrols. This was probably what put her off her guard; she was intellectually, emotionally, and physically exhausted. Fortunately, Draco had been playing nice last night. Hermione guessed it was because he thought this was a done deal.

She scoffed. He wanted her maidenhead? Ha! Only if you've got a Time-Turner, Ferret Boy, and a gallon of Felix Felicis. He thought she was such a goody-goody that she would let the government sell her to him so he could impregnate her repeatedly. As if this was what the brightest witch of her generation should be doing with her life.

Hermione shook her head and took one last long look around. After breakfast, everything would be different. She was a little sad, but also thrilled by what she was gearing up to do. With that thought as a beacon of hope in her heart, Hermione went down to breakfast.

Draco watched her come in looking especially pretty. He almost choked on his porridge when he caught sight of her gorgeous ringlets and beautiful doe eyes. If only she'd put this sort of effort into herself every day! He couldn't wait to give her the clothes she deserved, clothes in the finest fabrics made by the best tailors. Draco's delight was lessened when he saw her idiot friends make space for her, each giving her a tight squeeze before she could completely sit down facing away from him. That wouldn't be happening by this time next week. He smirked and looked up for the post, anxious for it to come so everyone would know she was his.

Draco unconsciously rubbed his tattoo while chewing on a bit of bacon. Watching her, he noticed Hermione's hand come up to scratch the back of her neck. He quickly pulled his hand away. He didn't want her to touch his mark until after the post came. Draco let out a sigh of relief when her hand dropped down and she began eating again. Hermione appeared to be really tucking in, and Draco was glad she had a healthy appetite. She'd need to be strong to produce his heir.

Finally, the post came! He watched stupid Potter pay the Prophet owl and look through the paper to see if Hermione had been listed yet. The headline directed him to page six, and he folded the paper to show to Hermione. Hermione nodded and kept eating. She hardly said anything at all. Ron leaned over and kissed her cheek, looking sad. That's right, Weasel, you certainly couldn't afford anything half as fine as Granger; you should feel very sad.

Draco smiled, feeling that it was about time to enjoy his victory. He stood up from his bench and strode over to stand behind Hermione, picking up one of the perfect ringlets and playing with it gently. "See, Granger, I told you we'd be wed."

Potter turned to scowl at him. "Hands off."

"I don't think so. A man is well within his rights to enjoy the charms of his affianced, Potter." It was all Draco could do to keep from sneering at the Boy Who Lived... Twice. However, such were the times, and he supposed he could be civil for Hermione's sake. For now.

Hermione crammed one last delicious piece of bacon into her mouth, trying to shake her hair out of his hand. Beside her, Weasley snickered. "You really are blind, aren't you, Ferret? Hermione doesn't do anything she doesn't want to do. She never accepted your proposal, it was forced onto her. She's hardly affianced to you," Ron said in a mocking tone and snorted softly.

Draco rolled his eyes and, seeing that Hermione was done with breakfast, moved to help her stand. Hermione brushed his hand away, pulling her bag up on her shoulders. This was the signal for Colin to start rolling film. "Malfoy, if you don't retract your petition, I'll be forced to do something drastic."

Draco smirked. "That's impossible, Granger. That petition is legally and magically binding." He looked over her lazily, smug smile in place.

Hermione nodded at him sadly and fished out a fine copper-coloured necklace from the pocket of her robe. She flicked her wand at it, and it coiled around her neck. Finally, she stepped up onto the bench behind her to announce, "I, Hermione Jean Granger, do hereby renounce the Marriage Law, and the Ministry who approved it. In protest, I am leaving the country and breaking my wand!" Hermione held her precious wand over her head with one hand on each end and began pressing the ends together.

Draco's look of delight turned to utter horror. He was frozen in terror. She wouldn't. She couldn't! But she was, and she did! And when her wand finally splintered and broke, a great clap of thunder sounded, and Hermione screamed in great pain, her back arching as the magical force ripped through her body. At first, all eyes were locked on her, but then a louder, deeper moan echoed in terrible harmony with hers as Draco experienced her pain through his tattoo.

Finally, as the magical force was completely expelled, they both slumped to the floor. Hermione reached up, touched her necklace, and whispered, "Portus." She felt the hook and pull as she was transported through space-time. Upon landing rudely on hard ground, she cried, "Asylum!" before falling into a coma.