Turn 2 of 36

Sign the contract without further discussion

Hermione picks up the quill.

She does not ask another question. She does not look at Thicknesse, or at the clerk who has stopped pretending to sort his papers. She does not look at Draco. Her hand is steady now — the trembling has stopped, replaced by something colder, something that feels like the moment before a decision stops being a choice and becomes a fact. The nib hovers over the line marked *Hermione Jean Granger*, and she signs.

The ink is enchanted. She feels it the instant the final stroke completes — a pull behind her ribs, not painful but insistent, like a thread being drawn tight somewhere beneath her skin. The contract glows briefly, a warm amber pulse that fades as quickly as it came, and the parchment seems to settle against the desk as though it has gained weight.

"It is done," Thicknesse says. There is relief in his voice, thin and poorly disguised. He signs his own name beneath theirs — witness, officiant, representative of the Ministry's authority — and sets his quill down with a careful precision that suggests he would like to wash his hands of the entire matter.

"The union is binding. The terms regarding cohabitation and public conduct will take effect within thirty days. My office will provide the relevant documentation."

Hermione stares at her own signature. The ink has dried instantly, the letters fixed and permanent. She thinks of every principle she has ever argued for, every statute she has studied, every moment she believed the law existed to protect people rather than bind them. The quill is still in her hand. She sets it down beside the contract, next to Draco's untouched one, and the small click of it against the wood sounds to her like something ending.

"Well," Draco says.

She looks up. He is watching her with an expression she cannot name — not smug, not angry, not the performive blankness she expected. Something rawer than any of those, gone almost before she catches it, replaced by the careful mask he has been wearing all evening. His own quill lies untouched on his side of the desk. He has not moved to sign.

Thicknesse glances between them, suddenly uncertain.

"Mr. Malfoy — the contract requires both signatures to —"

"I'm aware of what it requires." Draco's voice is quiet. He reaches for the quill.