Ending The Sacred Twenty-Eight (Dramione)

Hermione

Hermione sat in her office at the Ministry and looked at the date in the document in her hands.

June 2nd 2003.

It’s already been a month.

A whole month since she had been belittled by the man she loved, had had her heart broken and kicked Draco out of her life.

A long and miserable month where she felt sick at least twice a week, overslept more often than not, and cried at the smallest memory of her ex-boyfriend (good and bad).

At least my hair and nails look awesome – for some miraculous reason.

But she was annoyed, snapping at her friends and glowering like a wounded animal most days; the worst thing was she couldn’t talk to anyone about it.

No one knew she had dated Draco for four years and a half, and if she told them now, she was certain they would all say she was better off without him.

Why did we keep it a secret? She asked herself. If everyone knew, it would make this break up easier.

But she knew very well why they hadn’t mentioned their relationship to anyone.

At school it made sense, they had mutually agreed secrecy was the best option; her friends had already been fuming because she had chosen to partner up with Draco in Potions. Telling them she had also started to kiss and fuck him wouldn’t have been taken well at all.

Once Hogwarts was behind them, Hermione recalled they had decided to keep the secrecy to avoid his parents' and, once again, her friends’ drama.

Not to mention the media – they both knew there would be a lot of exploitation from the likes of Rita Skeeter if they were to reveal they were a couple – “The Golden Girl and the Death Eater, Love Potion or Imperius?” the damn woman would certainly write.

No. They hadn’t needed that kind of attention.

But when he moved in with her, two years ago, and his parents had began to pressure him into finding a wife, she thought he finally would take her to meet them – properly, not a “watch-party with her being tortured in the drawing room” type of meet – but Draco had never brought that up.

And every time he whispered in her ear that he’d marry her, Hermione wished he either did it or stopped saying he would – for it had started to become clear that wouldn’t happen.

She would be lying if she said she had never considered things might end up like they did – she had hoped they wouldn’t, but she had to admit she had thought about it.

And that made her as mad at herself as she was at him.

She had known Draco since they were eleven, he had always been a prejudiced little shit, raised to be a Lord in title and attitudes, expected to marry as high as his own family and blood-status.

During the time they lived together, she read The Sacred Twenty-Eight Report monthly and found it both hilariously posh and very informative – a huge insight at her boyfriend’s upbringing.

And honestly? The only fault she could find in The Sacred Families was their prejudice against muggles and muggleborns; because the values they prized – family, respect and honour – were not bad ones. And the families took them seriously.

Look at me finding positive things on the Sacred Twenty-Eight cult. Hermione shook her head.

“Hey, Mione.” She suddenly heard a familiar voice calling her from the door of her office.