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Summary
Malfoy’s hand is unforgiving against her own, squeezing hard enough that it aches. Hermione digs her nails in, knowing the sensitive expanse of his pale skin will be marked for hours.
A fair trade, considering the heavy diamond ring on her finger that feels like a shackle. Her hand and arm still tingle from the binding magic, and she can’t risk looking down at it. She knows if she does, she’ll remember the gold strand that wrapped around her skin, tying them together for the rest of their miserable lives.