Disclaimer for entire story: I do not own Harry Potter or anything else you may recognize.

Summary: Young, widowed, and now wealthy, Hermione Granger must play spy for the sake of the Order. She has decided that in order to uncover the identity of the new Dark Lord she must marry the now penniless Lucius Malfoy, but she never thought she'd end up melting in ice's arms or his son's. . .

Setting: Harry Potter defeated Voldemort in what was supposed to be his seventh year and became a bit of a hermit shortly after. That was three years ago. Since then Lucius Malfoy has been re-imprisoned and released and his son's name cleared of past charges. This has been adapted to fit the events of the seventh book, minus the epilogue.

Rating: R. Most of it is more PG-13 but in later chapters it becomes a very 'hard' R. Go to sleep, kiddies.

To Have, Not to Hold

Chapter 1

"Good morning, my love," Hermione whispered.

The picture in her hands was not as old as it looked. Its worn edges and folded corners came from the wear of a despairing woman holding it against her chest many a night. A tear rolled down Hermione's cheek landing beside the red-headed man in the photograph. He side-stepped the salty droplet, wagging a finger playfully at his widow. A lopsided grin spread across his face as he crossed his arms and stood back, trying to look dignified and sporadically touching the auror's badge pinned onto his chest.

"Ronald, you idiot," she softly laughed, tucking the photo into her robe pocket. She leaned over the table for her mug of steaming coffee. It was still a good hour before dawn but she would never be able to get back to sleep with such a heavy heart.

It had been almost a year since his death.

"No," she reminded herself bitterly—his murder.

Death made it sound as if some illness had taken him, but nothing could have been further from the truth. He had been a healthy, young auror, happy and more confident than he had ever been in school. Hermione had been, and still was, the assistant to the English Ministry Diplomat of Foreign Affairs, Jenna Tompkins, and Ron had been assigned to be a body guard for his wife and Lady Tompkins. They had wed shortly after Voldemort's fall (against the approval of several of their elders), and the couple was to have celebrated their second wedding anniversary the following weekend. And then a group of Death Eaters had taken him from her.

"'Mione, dear." Molly Weasley walked into the kitchen, her granddaughter Lana, Hermione's niece, on one hip. "You mustn't make a habit of this. You'll never get any rest."

Hermione smiled at her mother-in-law. "Does Miss Lana still have a tummy ache?" she asked, holding out her arms. The little girl pouted, and Molly sat her down in Hermione's lap.

"I just came down to fetch a bit of drought for the poor thing. I swear, if it's her cousins who've been feeding her their father's concoctions again, I'll have both of their ears."

Hermione rocked Lana slightly as Molly ransacked the cabinet. The Burrow was quite full this morning, but it wasn't near as crowded as it had been in the past. When Molly's wealthy cousin Bertha from the States had died, she had left the sum of her inheritance to Molly's family. The money hadn't changed the Weasleys in the least, but it had given their little house a long deserved makeover. They had just finished adding east and west wings to their once tiny home.

Molly had divided the fortune between her remaining children, insisting that she'd rather see them use it for good now rather that have something to look forward to in the will. Ron and Hermione were going to buy a place of their own, but they hadn't gotten the chance. Hermione was now the sole owner of the vault. It and her very well paying position with Lady Tompkins gave her a place in the Daily Prophet's columns often enough.

"Here it is!" Molly said, pulling out a bottle. Lana squirmed in Hermione's lap at the sight of the chalky tasting potion. "Now quit burying her face in your auntie's hair and be a big girl."

Still frowning, Lana faced the common torture amongst children and swallowed the foul medicine as if she were taking poison. Hermione barely managed to stop herself from laughing at her young niece.

"Now off to bed with you," Molly added, gesturing on even as Lana slipped off of Hermione and teetered toward her bedroom.

Molly took a seat at the table, summoning a cup and the coffee pot with a flick of her wand. She poured herself a cup and looked over at Hermione. "Would you like some breakfast, dear. You look as thin as a rail."

"Oh, no thanks, Molly," Hermione said. "I should probably be getting back to my own flat—the neighbors are starting to wonder whether or not I still live there."

Molly chuckled softly. It was true; Hermione more often came to the Burrow after work than she did her own apartment, not that any one of the Weasleys were complaining. The Weasleys loved having her over since most of their children had moved out and the little ones (there were five at last count) enjoyed their aunt's company so long as she wasn't trying to make them learn their letters.

"You have clothes here. Plus, Bill is supposed to stop by to pick up Lana, Arty, and Constance early this morning. You haven't talked to him in ages." For good measure, she added, "And, no, Fleur's not coming. She's in Paris for the week to see the latest in formal wear."

There was a loud pop, and Bill appeared opposite the two women. "Well, speak of the devil." Molly grinned. "Everyone's up and about so early."

"I won't disagree, Mum," Bill said. "I need you to go wake Dad quickly. There's been an incident at the Ministry."

Molly's eyes widened, but she didn't question him. Instead, she apparated to her room without hesitation. Hermione looked up at Bill, studying his worried expression. The thick red beard he'd grown to cover his scar hardened face did nothing to mask his frown. The thought that someone as collected as Bill could become so frazzled made Hermione panic.

"What happened?" she snapped. "Was anyone hurt?"

Bill only had time to nod before two pops sounded and Molly and Arthur stood before the breakfast table.

"Your mother said something happened at the Ministry?" Arthur looked to his son.

"It was a Death Eater attack," Bill breathed, "entirely in Voldemort's name. The Mark was raised only half an hour ago."

"Was anyone in the Ministry that early?" Molly asked.

"Apparently a meeting had been arranged, but the aurors weren't sure whether the Death Eaters knew anything about it. They only used the killing curse once—on one of the guards, a Rufus McNook."

"That poor man," Molly whispered, holding to her husband's arm.

"There were two more fatalities as well," Bill added. "It seems the Death Eaters were trying to collapse the central part of the building, an act they would not be able to achieve in broad daylight. Those inside were crushed. They've identified the Ministry employ as Greg Grayson."

"That young chap in the Treasury Department?" Arthur asked. "That poor lad was only a few years older than you, Hermione. Who was the other, Bill?"

Bill's frown deepened. "Narcissa Malfoy. She had arranged the before hours meeting, which is the reason why they find it hard to believe that the Death Eaters knew about those inside."

"Malfoy's wife. . ." Arthur took a seat at the table, rubbing his temples. "Well, you're probably right there, son. Lucius Malfoy might've been one of the buggers over the attack, if he's been drawn back into his old crowd."

Bill lifted his gaze in agreement. "I can't believe they let that slimy bastard stay out of Azkaban and kept his brat from going there all because of some sloppy evidence and few extra knuts in their pockets. Maybe one of them will confess their involvement after they've seen what their dirty deeds have gotten them."

Hermione wanted to disagree—she was one of the few who wasn't very bothered by the ministry's decision to lessen Draco Malfoy's time, even if she was still somewhat suspicious of the elder Malfoy's virtuous pleas at his hearing following Voldemort's fall. The Malfoy family had been one of the few who had avoided major punishment from the reestablished ministry, mostly because of a certain chosen wizard who had voiced confidence in the family's proposed remediation. Nevertheless, the Weasleys, and most of society, were in obvious doubt when it came to ex-Death Eaters, and Hermione wasn't going to try to crush their hopes.

"We could use a break like that," Hermione said. By we she was of course referring to the Order of the Phoenix.

Though Dumbledore had died over four years ago, the Order had remained strong and running. They had thought that their work would be done after Harry defeated Lord Voldemort a year after the Headmaster's demise but such was not the case. Voldemort's followers had grown in numbers during his reign, and their heinous actions had become more frequent of recent. It seemed that they had turned their Dark Lord into some sort of god-like figure, gone but not dead.

"It would be nice to have some good from such a tragedy," Arthur agreed. "Did witnesses see who led the attacks? Was it the Priest?"

"Who else?" Bill groaned.

"The Priest?" Hermione asked.

"While you and Lady Tompkins were visiting China last week, the Daily Prophet was coining a nickname for the new leader of the Death Eaters. There was a whole article on how they had formed some sort of cult around the one they believe to hold Voldemort's powers. The leader wears a strip of snake skin as a slash, what is believed to be old sheddings from Nagini. They call him the Priest."

"Leave it to the papers to add fuel to the fire," Hermione hissed. "If murderers aren't frightening enough for the public, turn them into some sort of religious fanatics. That twist probably sent their sales skyrocketing. I hope it was worth it."

"You're not wrong," Bill said. "That brings me to the next point. I think we should call a meeting."

Arthur nodded. "Go pass the news. We'll tell Ginny. Tell everyone to meet tonight to discuss new developments."

Hermione snorted, watching Bill nod and apparate. A meeting would do no good. The Order had been letting the Death Eaters get away for too long. Of course, without any new information getting to them, they were virtually useless.

"I hate to admit that I prefer action over talk, especially since I'm up for Jenna's diplomatic position," Hermione said.

Molly shook her head. "But what can we do without a plan of action, dear?"

Hermione sighed. "What indeed. . ."