A Marriage Most Convenient

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Chapter 29: Draco Malfoy Deserves a Quick Kick in the Arse

“If a woman doubts as to whether she should accept a man’s proposal or not, she certainly ought to refuse him. If she can hesitate as to Yes, she ought to say No, directly.” – Jane Austen

I want to be married to the woman I love…it’s just that sometimes I’m not sure I will make a very good husband.” – Draco Malfoy

I don’t really want to be a wife again; I just want to be married to a man whom I can love. Oh, and Draco Malfoy confuses the hell out of me.” – Hermione Granger.


“Hermione?” Draco walked into the room after he called her name. She didn’t turn toward his voice.

With her face pressed practically to the glass of the window she asked, “Draco, do you want to get married? If you didn’t have to get married, would you want to get married?”

He knew why she was asking these things. He just didn’t know what she wanted him to say. Before he could utter a word, she turned on him and said, “You confuse the hell out me, and I swear I really just want to slap you upside the head so badly!”

“Well, I’d have to say ouch if you did that,” he said without reflection. He sat down in a chair across the room. She remained by the window.

“Just be truthful!” she beseeched. “You pursued me! You wanted to marry me! You made our fake engagement real, long before you knew about Alice, or maybe not, maybe you’ve always known about her. I’m sick of it all.”

“First, I haven’t always known about Alice, not to the extent that you and I shared a daughter,” he said slowly. “I did pursue you. You’re right about that one.”

“For your inheritance,” she interrupted, “which you’re likely to lose now, anyway, so the conditions of our upcoming marriage no longer stand, correct?”

“No, not correct,” he said, again, slowly, as if he were measuring his words carefully, thinking things through as he answered. “I want to give you a way out, if you want it. You said it yourself, you had one bad marriage, and you don’t need another, and I might not make a good husband and I probably will be a terrible father.” He walked over to the window. Once again, she leaned her forehead against the glass. He reached up and stroked her hair.

“I’ll take care of you and Alice, as much as someone like you would let someone like me do something like that,” he said with a laugh, “and you don’t have to marry me for that to happen. I’m still a wealthy man, without my inheritance. I’ll provide well for Alice, and for you. You don’t have to marry me.”

She turned so quickly that he took a step back, which was a good thing, but he still wasn’t quick enough, because her hand came up and she hit him, hard on the head, with her open hand. “WHAT IF I WANT TO MARRY YOU, YOU IDIOT?” she said as her hand connected with his head.

He covered his head, shied away from her, and said, “Well maybe I don’t want to marry you now, you mean, abusive thing, you!” He rubbed the side of his head and begged, “Why must you always resort to violence? My cheek still stings from when you slapped it third year in school, and now this. I probably have a concussion.”

“Be quiet,” she said tersely. She walked over to the chair behind the desk, sat down in it, and then placed her head on the desk, on her arms. “I don’t want a way out of this, but maybe you do.”

He approached her slowly.

“You said you suspected the woman in the mask was me, long ago, right?” she clarified.

“Yes.” He came closer.

“When Kevin contacted you, said that you had fathered a child, you didn’t once think it might have been with me, from that night?” she quizzed.

He was silent for a good minute, then answered honestly, “No, it didn’t dawn on me that he was even telling the truth. I didn’t know it was he at the time and I didn’t even think it might be Alice and you when my father mentioned the blackmail at the resort last week. I didn’t start to put two and two together until a bit later. I wanted to marry you before I found out about Alice, although I have to say, from the moment I met her, I felt as if she belonged to me.” He sat on the arm of the sturdy old desk chair, beside her. He ran a finger down her cheek.

She sat up, looked at him and smiled. “I want to marry you.”

“I want to marry you,” he returned.

“Even though it might not solve our problem?” she asked.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he rebounded. “Perhaps we’re both mad. Perhaps it’s a delirium that’s catching because I think my mother and my father is thinking of remarrying, too, even though in actuality, that won’t solve anything, either.”

She nodded and said, “True, I believe only having their divorce annulled would solve the problem of Phillipa overturning the second will, but perhaps I’m wrong, but does it matter? Perhaps they want to remarry for their own reasons, just as I want to marry you for my own reasons, and you want to marry me for your own reasons.”

“Wiser words were never spoken, Granger,” he said with a smile. “Then I guess we’ll get married.”

She pouted a bit then stated, “We haven’t even gone on a date, not really, unless you count the night of the ball, but that turned out to be our betrothal ball, and here we are, getting married. I mean, we went on the picnic,” she declared, “but that was a group date with Alice and Ingrid. We’ve made love twice since our betrothal, but those can’t count as dates.”

“I usually count having sex with a woman as dates,” he joked.

She pushed him and he actually fell off the arm of the chair and onto the floor. “Oh, there you go with the violence, again! My bum, Hermione! I hurt my bum.”

“You’re a pain in my bum,” she said under her breath. She looked down at him, on the floor, and then she laughed. She held out her hand to help him up.

He promptly pulled her down on top of him.

And there they stayed - him on his back, her on top of him, on her stomach, her hands on his chest, her face hovering over his. “Let’s go on a date, right now,” he stated.

“It’s after one-thirty in the morning, and you want to go on a date? Where?” she asked. She moved so that she was by his side. She propped herself up on her elbow. He did the same, on his side.

“Do you like to swim? There’s a small lake on the property. I used to go swimming there at night during my summers here, all the time,” he told her. “We could swim naked.” He burrowed a finger in her side and she squealed, hitting his hand away.

“It’s not summer, it’s spring, so the air is a bit nippy, and I bet the water is as well,” she complained. She sat up.

“Nippy? Is that a word?” He sat up, too. “I don’t believe it’s a real word. Surely, you can come up with a better reason that we shouldn’t go swimming on a clear, spring night than to say that it’s ‘nippy’. I think I should look it up in the dictionary.”

“Go to it,” she challenged. “If you find it’s not a word, I’ll go swimming naked, and even have sex with you afterwards.”

“Hot damn, where’s the dictionary?” He stood up and began to look around the library for the dictionary. “I should accio it to me,” he said more to himself than to her.

She remained on the floor, but scooted so that she sat next to a shelf. She looked to her left, spied a large red book, pulled it out, and opened it. It was the dictionary. That was easy. She opened it to the ‘N’s’.

Draco was on the other side of the large room, looking amongst the tomes, saying, “Fucking library, can’t find anything, I know there’s a dictionary somewhere, going to have sex whether she wants to or not.”

Hermione said aloud, “According to the World English Dictionary, ‘nippy’, the comparative of which is nippier, superlative is nippiest, is an adjective, and it means chilly, rather chilly, secondary meaning concerns food, meaning sharp tasting. Third meaning is inclined to attempt to bite people or animals. Nippy. The adverb is nippily and the noun would be nippiness. ”

She looked up; rather proud of herself, but Draco was nowhere to be seen. “Draco, where are you?” She placed the large book back on the shelf, crawled to the left of the large desk on her hands and knees, and looked out into the large room, calling out his name. “Draco? Draco Malfoy? Where did you go?”

He attacked her from behind, pushing her to the floor, placing his body on top of hers, and immediately turning her to her back as she screamed in fright. He bit the side of her neck, hard, and said, “Just a little nip, Miss Granger, since it is a word.”

She pushed at him, but laughed. He sat up on her stomach, his knees on either side of her, and he winked at her.

Then he reached down and cupped her cheek, before leaning over and kissing the other cheek. “You’re so beautiful,” he proclaimed. He sat back up.

She reached up, patted his cheek, and said, “And you weigh the same as a Hippogriff. Please get off me.”

He shook his head no, and then he reached down and cupped one of her breasts, gave it a slight squeeze, gave her a playful look, made a funny noise, and waited for the slap that he knew was coming to the side of his face for his impetuous action. He didn’t wait long. She reached up to slap his face, though not hard, and he grabbed her wrist.

He rolled so that she was on top of him, and then he pulled her down and kissed her hard. “Have you ever made love in a library, Granger?” he asked slyly.

“Please, this is me you’re talking to, what a stupid question,” she chastised.

“Sorry, of course you haven’t,” he said, rolling again so that they faced each other, side-by-side.

She laughed and said, “You really don’t know me very well, do you. It’s a library, Malfoy, my natural habitat! Of course I’ve made love in a library before, silly!”

“There you go calling me names again,” he said, as he stood. He reached for her hand, pulled her up, and said, “Who was the lucky man, and where was the lucky place?”

“Never you mind,” she laughed back. She placed her arms around his middle and said, “Are we getting married, then, for real, no matter what, for the right reasons, not because of Alice, or because of regrets, or because of your inheritance, or whatever?”

“What are the right reasons?” he really wanted to know.

“Love, Malfoy,” she answered.

“Well, la, de, effing, da,” he said with a laugh. “Marriage because of love,” he said slowly. “It’s such a novel idea. I wonder why no one thought of it before.”

She wanted to hit him so badly again, that her hand even itched, but she kept it at her side. As if sensing this, he reached for her hand, brought it to his mouth, kissed it, and then said, “Swimming is this way, Granger.” He disapparated with her to a lake on the property, far enough from the house, where no one would see them.

She shivered in the cool night air, which was indeed brisk and ‘nippy’ and covered her arms with her hands. She walked over to the lake, careful not to step on sharp rocks or stones, and dipped her toe in the water. It was freezing.

“I’m not going in there!” she declared.

He had already removed his shirt and was pulling down his trousers. He wore nothing underneath. His skin looked silver in the dark of the night, with the light of the moon. She cocked her head to the side, and said, “I love that part of a man’s anatomy the most, right there.” She pointed, but not to where he assumed. She pointed to the ‘V’ of his abdominal muscles, where they met his narrow hips, and went to his legs.

“Thank you,” he said, proudly. “Now, remove your nightgown. I have my wand with me, hence the reason we could disapparate here, and I’ll put a warming spell on the water, but I want you good and naked, no, on second thought,” he laughed, “I want you bad and naked.”

She crossed her arms in front of her, grabbed the hem of her long gown, and quickly threw it over her head. It landed on the ground at her feet. She blushed, and though the only light came from the full moon, he saw the reddening of her cheeks and he was enchanted. She had slim legs, narrow hips, a flat stomach, and high, round breasts. She was absolutely, amazingly, beautiful. He turned from her, though he wanted to stare at her all night. He placed his wand in the water, to warm it, and then said, “After you, Love.”

“I’m not the best swimmer,” she said, taking his outstretched hand.

He smiled. He wanted to tell her that he really didn’t plan on swimming a great deal, but he said, “The water’s only about chin deep, so you won’t drown, but I wonder…you’re not the best flyer, you’re afraid of heights, you aren’t the best swimmer, what the hell can you do well?”

They were both standing waist high in the water at this point. She turned to him, smiled, and said, “I’m good at giving you a beautiful daughter, Draco. What can you do?”

“I can try for another one,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. His hands went around her waist and he moved her closer to him. She was almost weightless, buoyant in the water. Her hands held onto his shoulders, almost too tightly. He spun her around in a circle, then said, “Close your mouth and hold your breath, we’re going under!”

Before she could protest, he jumped up, and then sunk down, with her in his grasp. He spun around twice underwater, with her in his arms, her hair floating all around them. He brought them back up, and when they sprang from the water, she shut her eyes, coughed slightly, rubbing her face with her hands.

“You gave me no warning!” she shouted, gripping his arms tighter. He moved them to the center of the lake. His feet were no longer touching the bottom. They were in deeper water than he had previously stated.

“And yet you lived,” he joked, spinning them around again. Their legs kicked around each other, his arms still on her waist, her arms moving back and forth.

Finally, he threw back his head, looked up at the night sky and proclaimed, “I’m marrying you tomorrow!”

“You are?” she asked.

“Yes, it’s been decided, well…by me.” He continued to swim with her in his arms, this time, their movements less pronounced, more reserved. “We’ll go to London in the morning, get that special license that Percy promised you, then marry before we come back home, but we won’t tell a soul. It will be something special, just between you and me, and nothing, short of someone dying, will stop us. Will you have me?”

“I thought that was already established,” she answered. She gripped his shoulders tighter and clung closer to his chest. She twined her arms around his neck, placed her lips at the base of his throat, and kissed him, the water from the lake making the kiss wet and warm.

Before he knew what he was doing, he lifted her from the water, carried her to the shore, his hands and mouth roaming over every wet spot of her body. His tongue, lips and fingers were feathery soft, stroking, inviting, enticing, roaming and meandering over every part of her. This was a precious moment for them, as each moment before, and each moment in the future would be.

He kissed her tenderly, softly, and almost desperately. His hard muscles folded around her soft body, pliant and giving under his. He whispered in her ear, “Shall I, love? Shall I join you?”

It sounded insane, but utterly endearing, and she was on the brink, and she cried out, “yes, please, yes,” and he joined her until she shuddered underneath him. He sat up, kneeling between her legs, her legs over his hips, his hands on her chest.

He reached around for her, and at the moment of joy, he placed his hands behind her, pulled her up, and supporting her upper body with his hands on her back, she held onto his shoulders and she closed her eyes and gave into the wild abandonment that was making love to Draco Malfoy.

When they were sated, they lay together on the wet grass, cold, drenched, and unable to move. He moved from her first, grabbing his shirt. He pressed it to her chest, grabbed their other clothing, took his wand and he apparated with her back to his room.

They practically fell on his bed, laughing.

“Oh, that was a nice swim,” she said.

“And you said you weren’t good at swimming,” he joked. “Were you nippy?” he asked. He leaned over and bit her shoulder.

She said, “Stop that. I’m so tired, but I have grass and mud and lake water in my hair, so I need a shower, and then we should get a couple of hours sleep if we’re getting married tomorrow, well, really today.” She stood up, threw his shirt on the floor, and reached for her nightgown. Slipping it back over her body she said, “I’ll shower in my bathroom, you shower here, and after I check on Alice, I’ll come back here.”

“Alice is with my mother, I guess,” Draco said, leaning over to grab his trousers.

Hermione frowned. “Why?”

“She had a nightmare, couldn’t find you, so she went to be with her,” he explained, doing up his pants. “Shower here with me. She’s fine.”

She was about to protest, when there was a small, almost timid knock on Draco’s door. Hermione’s eyebrows raised and she whispered, “I bet that’s her now. I don’t want her to find me in here with you.”

“Hypocrite,” Draco said. He walked up to her, physically pushed her so that she was behind the door, and then opened the door slowly. He looked down, expecting to find little Alice. Instead, he looked back up, to see his father.

“Sir?” he asked.

“Get Hermione out from behind your door, get dressed, and join me in the living room, immediately. Something bad has happened while you two were Merlin knows where,” he said with anger.

Hermione stepped from behind the door and gasped, “Is it Alice?”

“No, she’s still asleep in Cissy’s room. I’m afraid it’s Ingrid. She was walking back up to the third floor, and she started having chest pain. She fell down the stairs. One of the servants went to her, and we rushed her to St. Mungo’s. I’m so sorry, but she’s gone. She’s dead.” Lucius patted his son’s arm and walked away.

Hermione slipped to the floor and started to cry.

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