Rose Among the Thorns

Warning: There is a bit of language in this chapter, but not much.

Chapter 6- Of Threats...

Three weeks later Hermione was sitting at her desk, going over a revision of the Werewolf Rights Act she was planning to submit to Kingsley in a few days. She glared at the wall of the cubicle in front of her. Tabitha Doge was flirting loudly and shamelessly with some bloke from Goblin Liason. How in Godric's name was she going to get this draft done with all of this noise! Hermione looked at the small clock next to a photo of herself and her parents, who'd liked Australia so much they'd decided to remain there after all. 11:56. She sighed, close enough to lunch. Hermione snapped the folder closed, picked up her handbag, and marched out of the office.

Ever since that accursed Marriage Law had passed the Ministry had been buzzing about it. Hermione never realized how many single people actually worked at the Ministry until now. In the past week she'd turned down thirteen requests for dates and six marriage proposals; a married wizard from the Department of Magical Games and Sports had even asked her out! Everywhere she went in the Ministry people were chatting each other up in the corridors or snogging in broom cupboards and toilet stalls. Hermione had even stopped going to the water cooler for a drink; it was now the sight of dozens of hastily planned date invitations. Hermione shook her head in disgust. She strode through the Atrium and out into the summer sunshine. Some fresh air would do her good, as well as a cup of Earl Grey and a blackberry tart from the coffee shop just around the corner.

She joined the crowd making its way down the sidewalk. After paying for her meal and finding a seat at an empty table, Hermione stared out the window at the passersby. They look so carefree. They don't have to worry about arranged marriages. She sighed. It must be nice... She was vaguely aware that someone had occupied the seat across from her.

"Well if it isn't Bucktooth the almost-Weasel," a familiar, cold voice jeered.

Hermione reached for her wand, thought better of it, and glared at her tormenter. "Sod off, Malfoy. Just because you haven't grown past childish nicknames doesn't mean that I have to sit here and listen to them." She moved to leave, but Draco caught her arm and forced her back into her seat.

"Now, now, Ms. Granger. Don't you want to hear what I have to say?"

Hermione snorted. "I know you're not stupid enough to send the Ministry a marriage proposal for me and I don't have any other reason to speak to you so no, I don't really care to hear what you have to say."

Malfoy laughed. "Of course I'm not stupid enough to want to shag a mudblood like you," he sneered. "But Goyle is."

Hermione stopped cold. "What?" she faltered.

He sneered again. "That's right. My thickheaded friend wouldn't mind warming your bed long enough for you to squeeze out two pups." He reached up and twisted a long curl between his gloved fingers. "And maybe then some," he purred. "Salazar knows that family needs some dire assistance in the brainpower department."

Hermione snapped out of her horrified trance and stood, backing swiftly away. " Fuck you, Malfoy," she spat, ignoring the stares of the other customers. "And fuck Goyle. I'd rather marry Slytherin himself than that disgusting prat."

Malfoy shrugged his shoulders. "Suit yourself. But remember that although Goyle isn't intelligent, he isn't completely dim-witted. He was put in Slytherin for a reason, so don't think that just because you marry someone else doesn't mean he won't get you in the end."

Hermione shook with rage. In a flash she moved up to him and slapped his cheek with every molecule of strength in her body.

"I was put in Gryffindor for a reason too, you sick bastard." She turned swiftly and strode back down the street to the Ministry.

She rode the lift back to her floor, ignoring the looks of concern on her coworker's faces. Hermione went straight to the loo, fell into the first stall and was sick. She leaned back against the door, and for the first time in months, broke down and cried. She sobbed into her arms, soaking the sleeves of her robes. After several minutes she left the stall and splashed cold water on her face from the sink. After drying her robes and cleaning up her face with her wand, Hermione looked into the mirror. "I'm perfectly fine." She thought to herself. "I won't let Malfoy frighten me. It was just an empty threat, that's all. Goyle doesn't have the brains to plot a way to get to me." Hermione straightened her shoulders and walked back to her cubicle, determined to finish the draft of the Werewolf Rights Act before she went home.

~~~~~~~

"Hey, Hermione," Harry said, poking his head into her cubicle. "Mrs. Weasley's making pot roast tonight, and asked me to see if you wanted to come over."

It was nearly time to leave, and Hermione had finally finished with her draft. She smiled. "Sure, why not? I don't have any dates tonight."

Harry grinned. "How many today?"

"Three dates and one proposal," she replied as she tidied up her desk.

"Only three? My, my, Hermione, not up to your usual standard."

She smacked him playfully on the arm. "Leave it."

*******

notes: No, Malfoy didn't turn into a sweet fuzzy bunny after DH. He's just as big a jerk as before. I wanted to give the story a little bit of a twist, as most Marriage Law fics seem to have Hermione threatened with marrying Malfoy, and I don't think that he would 'condescend' to marrying Hermione. But Goyle, on the other hand... (cue sinister music).