Chapter Text
Where does infatuation end and obsession begin?
Perhaps it’s the moment he casts the tracking charm. Draco’s sixteen, dark mark freshly branded on his skin, and his world falling to fucking pieces around him. And yet, all he can think about is her.
She plagues him, infecting his thoughts until he’s driven by a desperate need to own her. Possess her.
So when the opportunity presents itself, in the form of a singular strand of curly brown hair, it’s almost too easy to bind her magic to him. Well, aside from the particularly complicated blood ritual which (if discovered) could very well land him in Azkaban.
Still it’s worth it to keep her safe. Even if she doesn’t know it yet.
One year later.
Adrenaline courses through him as he waits, disillusioned and leaning against a gnarled tree in the midst of whatever gods-forsaken forest she’s dragged him to this time.
Any minute now…
He’s jittery, on edge. It’s been weeks since he caught a glimpse of her, and he’s fucking struggling. Besides, today’s different. Today he isn’t content with simply watching. He has something she wants, and a plan to make it worth his while.
A twig snaps, drawing his attention, and he whips his head to the side just in time to see her emerge from the magical barrier she’s erected. His breath catches, as he drinks her in, eyes greedily raking over every single inch of her. She’s perfect. Flawless.
His.
The desire to grab her is almost overwhelming, but he forces himself to wait. He hasn’t missed the way Weaselbee follows his girl around, eyes filled with a hopeful longing that makes Draco want to rip them from his skull.
Still, after today, that won’t matter.
Confident she isn’t being followed, he makes his move, stunning her, and apparating them to the cottage he’d prepared in anticipation of today’s meeting.
In hindsight, reviving her whilst she’s bound and disarmed probably isn’t the best way to foster their tentative new relationship.
But his future wife is a force to be reckoned with, so precautions were necessary, even if it resulted in the abuse she’s currently hurling his way.
Luckily, he has an ace up his sleeve in the form of a golden cup. One that is extremely effective in cutting off her tirade.
“I’d like it stated for the record, that I went to a lot of trouble to acquire that.”
Okay, it’s a small lie, he asked to be let into the Black vaults and the goblins let him, but what she doesn’t know…
But it does the trick. Granger’s staring at the cup, desperately, covetously.
“I want to make a deal.”
She swallows hard, nodding, “what do you want?”
This is it. He takes the velvet box from his pocket, flipping it open, and revealing the yellow teardrop diamond inside.
“Marry me.”
She just needs to agree, and he’ll give her everything.
His fortune, his name, his legacy.
Whether she fucking wants it or not.