Welcome! This is the new story I've been working on for the past month. It's mostly finished so expect updates to be frequent-ish. I'm thinking once a week or something. There are about 15 chapters in total, so that should make it through December barring edits and things. The schedule should give me some time to proofread and such.

This will also be posted on ao3.

Anyways, HP is not mine, neither is 27 Dresses, nor do I make any money off these writings. It's all for fun and the experience.

So without further ado, I present Wedding Season!

Time since the end of the war had always seemed a little sedate to Hermione. In the wake of the final battle, she had kept up her relationship with Ron who had gone straight into being an Auror with Harry. In the same year, she had gone back to school to finish her education. The next year she had found a job in the Ministry helping with research and translations. In the third year, she got a flat where she has lived out the following three years in a relative monotonous state enjoying her quiet routine.

The building to Hermione's flat was nondescript, which many people would walk by and never take a second glance at. She however enjoyed the lackluster building and often used it as a refuge. Her top floor flat offered a secluded peace with the rooftop greenhouse and privet entrance, which was a much needed escape from her often celebrity like status.

The furnishings inside the flat itself were a mix of traditional with small modern flairs for convenience. Her office, though, held her much loved books, her well used colossal desk, and a sturdy cat tower in the window for her cats to play and lounge on while she worked.

Pictures covered a shelf near her desk depicting her place beside her close friends each dressed in their own once in a life time dresses. Their weddings held a special place in Hermione's life and she often looked over the images fondly. Ginny looked buff in her tight fitting gown showing off her professional quidditch body. Luna stood out in her eclectic flowy gown of many different vibrant and eye catching shades.

And then, there was Hannah Abbot. The two girls became much closer after the final battle when Neville started to frequent the Leaky Cauldron on his off days from working at the school. Hermione liked this picture the most. The pure joy radiating off Hannah could give a boost to her mood when days felt too long.

Hermione shuffled a stack of papers from her desk into her beaded bag. Getting ready for work had never been one a moment she looked forward to. Work was never really like school where her fire for learning and understanding things fueled her ability to wake up and get going. On the other hand, work tended to dampen those desires.

What had begun as a job looked forward too quickly turned out to be tedious tasks and menial or often mundane chores. She had originally chosen the position to be close to Ron and Harry, and if she was being honest with herself, she really only chose the position because of Ron. But, to her dismay their relationship never really took off after the war.

They did spend a lot of time together, but in the year after the final battle, Hermione had started to notice Ron's wandering gaze and changing desires. At first she thought it was just him getting used to all the new found attention, but then she noticed his reluctance to spend time with her. He would spend more and more time at inter-office quidditch matches while she spent more time researching spells and assisting magical creatures on the side.

So, it was of no surprise to her when Ron announced in a round-about fashion that he wanted to seek better pastures as it were. He had wanted excitement and thrill, and here she was reading books and taking a break from their previously fast passed life.

The breakup had been a blow to Hermione. She had practically been planning their wedding since he had told her he loved her after the war. Though as much as she loved him, he needed space, and she would wait.

Hermione sighed to herself. The stack of papers had been moved to her bag and revealed several articles scattered over her desk with each headline holding snippets of wedding news. She couldn't believe she was fawning over current wedding articles over what could have been in her own life.

The articles all had a common factor other than weddings. A particular writer had caught her attention after she was the bridesmaid for Luna's wedding to the Scamander fellow not just a year ago. The writer had eloquently spoken about Luna's quirky traits and divulged some rather profound information about Scamander's family history. Overall, Hermione enjoyed the article. Around this time, Hermione found herself being asked to be bridesmaids for her numerous friends she had made since the war. She was now thrust into the wizarding wedding circuit and with it came the rabid interest in the writer of the article she had first read.

The author's name was Malcolm Fredon. He apparently was a young wizard whom had kept his distance during the war and had now been given the opportunity to stretch his writing fingers as it were.

Hermione found his articles insightful and well versed. His passion for minute details and historical insight had Hermione unknowingly fishing for the wedding column every Monday post. His articles usually came after big weekend weddings or large engagement parties. For as many weddings Hermione had been to and involved in, she had still yet to meet him.

Once her personal desk was in order and the articles brushed aside, Hermione made her way to the floo to head to work thinking that if Fredon had an article today her work day would perhaps be better.

It wasn't better. Ron had popped in and out with several demands for his department and none of them social calls. The encounters left Hermione rather dejected and put out with the demands. However, the secretary of her department, Astoria, came over for a visit to brighten her mood.

"Don't forget, Hermione. Tonight is a big night!" Astoria chattered anxiously. Her nervous energy was radiating through her body and into her tone.

"Do not worry Astoria," Hermione soothed setting aside several papers she had to sign. "I've got it all set to go. You just need to show up and be stunning."

"Thank you. You're a life saver, you know. I just nervous about the whole thing."

"I know. Now get back to work before someone sees you missing from your desk."

"I am. I am," Astoria said before heading to the entrance of Hermione's cubical. "I just wanted to thank you for everything."

Hermione shooed Astoria out with a wave of her hand, "Go on. I've got it."

Five years.

That's what it had been for Draco.

The first was spent in Azkaban, terribly dreadful. He hated that year, but his sentencing was cut short due to good behavior and a nice parole officer. The second year was community service under the direction of said parole officer who helped clean up his act, pulled him out of his depression, and set him on his feet.

The third and fourth years he had been trying without any success to get a job. His family had lost everything in the years following the war, and the manor had been demolished. The result had left him without much choice, and so his long journey to find a job had started.

His countless letters sent to discriminatory hiring managers and just as infuriating owners were received, but with much reluctance and all turned down. None wanted an Ex-Death Eater even if he had flying colors from his parole officer and community service manager.

And so, he took to writing.

His colorful words covered his anger, hid his distaste, and melded with society. His alternate form of himself, one that he could have been if not for his own decisions in life. He wrote sweet sappy words in hopes of getting better responses from hiring managers. He wrote eloquent prose in attempts of winning over people's hearts instead of their minds (because people's minds don't often like change).

He had lucked out. One of the letters he had sent got a reply. He was to have an interview which would hopefully lead to a job on a more permanent basis.

To his chagrin and eventual disappointment, the response had been from Rita Skeeter who was now in charge of The Prophet. She wanted him because she had known from his past that he would be capable of getting the information he needed which was so crucial to reporting at The Prophet. She brought him on, and to his utter dismay, stuck him on the wedding column under a pen name.

The column turned out to be a success. The witches loved having something uplifting and sweet to read, especially after all the pain from the war. The writing gathered the readers by the droves, and the paper was selling out on weekends after big wedding announcements or parties.

He covered all the big news and popular relationships. He covered old wizarding wedding traditions and the newly accepted traditions of the muggles.

White dresses, big parties, short engagements juxtaposed regale venues, garden parties, afternoon teas, and judgmental grandparents. And, Draco was in the middle of it all, pen name, a camera, and a hope no one would spill the beans of his writing the wedding column.

As much popularity his column gained though, he still felt like his talent was being wasted. He brewed potions in his free time, found trade issues with stricter ingredients, stigmas over controversial aids, and people who would rather not be involved with anything. He wanted to write about those things, not just baby's breath and flowing dresses, but rather things that mattered in the wake of a devastating war. He wanted to write on issues that had meaning rather than a torn dress the morning of some girl's big day.

Today, he solemnly thought, would be the day he would walk into Skeeter's office and demand something else to write.

"I would love to cover potions," he had said with a gusto Rita had not seen since he had started working there. "There are so many areas that need to be brought to the attention of the public." He passed back and forth in front of her desk. "Take Wolfsbane for instance, our werewolves have not a chance of joining our society without the assistance of Wolfsbane, which unfortunately has several ingredients that cost a small fortune to procure. If I could write an article gaining awareness about the matter more people would be will to put time and money behind the project-"

"Draco," Rita interrupted him with a stiff hand in the air. "I know you are all reformed and everything, and want to do good and help your fellow outcasts, but you write great wedding columns. I can't just knowingly push that aside for your passions. You generate steady readers, people who pick up our paper every week, search for your column, and talk. They love your work. Stick to it."

"But if I could just write on the side or something, stretch my wings in a different direction who knows where it could lead," he pleaded.

"No, not unless you would like to write somewhere else," she replied not looking up from her work.

He grumbled in agitation clearly not happy about being stuck with the same dribble day in and day out.

Rita sighed, leveled him a stern glare, steepled her fingers, and said, "Tell you what. Get me something big for a cover and I might let you write a little something on the side," she paused for effect, "As long as it does not affect your current output for the wedding column."

"Yes! Thank you. Really Skeeter, thank you."

"I want front cover material, something big!" She called out to his retreating back. "And don't forget that event tonight. Many people of importance should be there."

"Got it!"

I hope you guys enjoyed the first chapter. All reviews, follows, and favorites are welcome!

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