Empire

~ Chapter 01 – To Be… ~

The conversation from the morning swirled around Hermione's head as she stepped into her office.

"Do you have to go to work today Hermione? Come on! Take a break at least the day before your wedding!"

Hermione sighed. "I can't Ron. You know that Kingsley has given me a difficult case this week. I'll be off half day, I promise."

Ron scowled. "Sometimes, I think you love your work better than me. Otherwise you wouldn't make me stay here alone, entertaining your parents!"

"Don't do this to me: choose between you and work. Please. I'll be back soon. I have to do this. I saved this man from execution; I just need to finish off the process!"

"So you choose the Death Eater over me. Fine. Go to work. I'm going to spend the rest of the day with my teammates. Your parents can entertain themselves."

"Ron…"

But, Ron had already put on his coat. He pecked her cheek and left, without so much as a backwards glance.

Taking her customary seat in the black leather chair behind her desk, she determined to banish the morning's exchange from her head. Ron was just in one of his moods. Pre-wedding jitters. He would be alright. Yet, she couldn't but help feel a bit resentful.

Her secretary, Suri, knowing Hermione's habits, had gathered up all the files relating to her case and stacked it up on the desk. The pile of paperwork was overflowing. Hermione glanced wearily at the load, but, within five minutes had hung up her coat and was two feet deep in her work. A particularly difficult case of a former death eater, one of her own classmates, Theodore Nott, had been forwarded for her to undertake, and the amount of work under this man's name was endless. She had hoped for something slightly easier at least during her big week… but, oh well. Life was not that easy. She was proud of herself though, she knew the amount of effort it had taken on her part to save Nott.

She had just logged onto the ministry's database to clear up Nott's history – anything and everything to prove him innocent – when there was a knock on the door. She barely glanced up as she said "Come in".

The door opened with a click, and footsteps approached her desk. "Still deep in work, I see," a familiar voice drawled, at the sound of which Hermione's head shot up. "I would have at least thought you would take the day before your wedding off."

"That's exactly what Ron said." Hermione rubbed her eyes, then turned back to her work. "What do you want, Malfoy?"

"I've been asked to finish up Nott's case for you," Draco said, settling himself opposite her.

Hermione's head shot up again, this time with a vengeance. "What? What's wrong with the way I handled this case? I saved his life for Merlin's sake! I do not need your overlarge nose butting into my business; I am perfectly capable of finishing it up alone!"

He smirked. "Relax. Kingsley asked me to save you the trouble of the final paperwork. Besides, I'm just here to finish up the case for you, not your business. With Weasley at your side, I have no desire to 'butt into your business' anyway, thank you."

She glared at him. "Did you come here just to piss me off or did you have some actual work in mind?"

"Believe it or not, I did. Annoying you is just for bonus." He took out a folder from inside his cloak and tossed it onto the desk. "Kingsley passed this along to me. It's your case file. All the information needed for me to close the case."

Hermione picked the folder and rifled through the pages.

"Job well done Granger." Hermione glanced at him and for once he looked sincere. "You really saved Nott. Not many Defence Aurors could have. Wouldn't even be willing in the first place."

Hermione smiled for the first time that day. "Thank you."

He smirked again in response. "Those papers also have a glowing account of you from Kingsley. Totally kissing your ass. Weaselbee must be so proud."

Her smile vanished at Ron's name. "Actually he didn't really appreciate me working on it." Almost as soon as she said it, she wished she could swallow back her words. She had no idea why she was sharing personal information with Draco Malfoy of all people.

"Why not?" he asked, sounding genuinely curious.

Hermione shot him a suspicious look, but relented. "Because Nott was a Death Eater. Because Ron didn't like for me to work the week before the wedding." Because you are my colleague and he doesn't trust me to be around you or you to be around me, she silently added in her head.

"That's ridiculous. It is not the past of a person's life that matters, it is the present. Does he know you saved his life?"

Hermione stared at him, or in particular at the words he had just said. It is not the past of a person's life that matters, it is the present. It sounded almost… wise. And sad. At the very least, it was applicable to a lot of scenarios.

"Well, does he?"

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Does he realise that you saved an innocent man from execution with only minimum possible penalty?" he enunciated each word carefully, the way some do to a five year old.

"I don't know." Hermione felt the realization sink in. She didn't know if Ron knew of the importance of this case. And this was only the problem at the superficial level. What about everything else?

"Problems at home?"

She looked at him sharply, then shook her head. "No. No, everything's perfect. Absolutely lovely." She slid her chair back and stood up abruptly. "If you're finishing this up for me, I can go right?"

Draco looked taken aback – she wasn't going to hover over him as he went through her precious case? – but nodded.

"Good." Hermione shrugged into her coat, and picked up her bag. She walked to the door, but then looked back at the blonde man. "Thank you Draco. See you tomorrow."

Draco Malfoy watched her disappearing back, an unfathomable expression on his face.

[][][]

Hermione sipped coffee from the steaming mug Molly Weasley had pressed to her hands, mentally ticking off everything in her list. Flowers: check. Dress: check. Parents: back at the hotel. Guests: no RSVP's. Bills: check. Well, at least partially. Leftover things-to-do: not really. Everything was almost done, thanks to both her mother's and future mother-in-law's bustling and her own meticulous planning. Everything was almost done… except that almost.

She had organized her big day down to the last letter, imagining the relief of steadying her nerves at the final moments. Now she wished that she had something left to do. Anything to keep her mind from wandering down the wrong track.

A welcome distraction came in the form of Mrs. Weasley, a basket of washing at her hips. "Well dear," Molly said, kindly. "And how are you holding up?"

"I'm ok Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said, smiling wanly. "Have you seen Ron?"

Molly picked up some stray napkins which had fallen on the floor. "He said he was going visit one of his friends. Elli something or other. I really don't know dear, he just popped in here for five minutes and then he was off. You needn't worry, I'm sure he's fine. Now, I'd love to stay and chat, but I've got to get these cloths to Harry, he's going to deliver it to the hotel."

Hermione jumped up. "Anything I can help you with?" she asked, trailing after Mrs. Weasley.

Molly patted her cheek fondly. "No, no, you go off and enjoy yourself; I've got everything under control."

Hermione stared forlornly after her, but was distracted hearing a shriek from the yard. Upon investigation, she found a grinning George and a soaking wet and equally furious Ginny. "George Weasley, you stop this right now, or I'm going to hex you!" Ginny yelped again as a water bubble exploded on top of her.

"What's going on?" demanded Hermione, then shrieked as a sphere of water burst over her. "Guys! This is not funny!" She pushed her sopping hair out of her eyes and glared at George who was doubled up in laughter. She muttered something under her breath, twitching her wand, and the bucket of water from which he had been forming prank bubbles, upended itself onto his head. A lone hen from the Weasley's chicken coop had wandered in, and George, vision blinded because of the bucket, promptly tripped over it. The hen, squawking indignantly flapped itself on him, pecked the part of his face visible from beneath the bucket – "Youch! 'et tha' 'ing 'oop mee" yelped the muffled voice from the bucket – then waddled off. The girls, giggling hysterically, watched as George sat up and struggled to get the bucket off.

"Urgh, that is disgusting," said George, spitting a feather from his mouth. "Remind me to never eat chicken again for the next forty years." He flung the bucket away from him and stood up. "Hello Hermione. And what can we do today for the blushing bride?"

"Erm, is there something I can do for you?" asked Hermione, performing the three-minute-quick-dry-spell on herself and Ginny.

"Not really, unless you want to deliver this lovely, automatic refill bucket back to the shop," George said solemnly, pointing to the dripping bucket. "Be warned though, its magic has now been tampered with. It may give the blushing bride another unnecessary deluxe chicken bath."

"Yeah, yeah, we get it George. You steal products from your own shop," Ginny snapped, disgruntled. "Now, go away. Hermione and I have business to discuss." She dragged Hermione to The Burrow's perimeter to apparate.

"What business?" gulped Hermione. Knowing Ginny's obsession with the clothes –

"The dress business, of course," Ginny said, as they both plunged into darkness.

[][][]

"Do you think I should pin up my hair, or let it hang loose?" asked Ginny, looking at her reflection in the brocaded hotel mirror.

"I don't know, Gin." Hermione winced as the assistant who was pinning up a loose edge of her dress, unintentionally pricked her. "Whatever you want."

"You look beautiful ma'am," the assistant said dutifully, standing up.

"Thank you…" – Hermione checked the name tag on the assistant's uniform – "…Loretta."

Ginny swivelled around to face her. "I think I'm just going to wear it loose," she said and stopped as she saw her one-day-away sister-in-law. "Hermione… you look so beautiful."

"Thanks Gin," Hermione said, stepping in front of the mirror. She saw a girl with sleek brown hair that fell about her shoulders, her pink lips pursed up worriedly, her brown eyes large and wondering, encased in a cloud of feathers and ruffles and silk. The girl looked beautiful. But the dress seemed… wrong.

She fingered her gown, a small frown creasing her brows. It was beautiful. The silk was smooth and supple under her fingertips. Ron's wedding gift to her. His vision of her and his vision for her.

Unlike every other female in existence, Hermione had had no particular idea for her wedding dress – something which had scared her silly the first few weeks of her engagement. Up until she actually did become engaged, marriage to her was something holy and the dress - the dress was a symbol of a couples love for each other; a metamorphosis of his and her love. This idea of hers was utterly destroyed when she became engaged, because she hadn't been able to picture walking down the aisle, let alone the dress itself.

When Ron had asked her about it, she said she had no preferences. So Ron had undertaken it as a special little side project slash wedding present, to create a wedding dress for her.

The bodice was sewn with shimmering dewdrops – she hadn't particularly cared for them, but Ron had insisted. He said it made her look like a diamond. "A jewelling crystallised diamond Hermione. Stunning. The envy of every man." Those were his precise words. She had resented it at the time – it somehow made her feel like a trophy – but she had let it pass, wanting him to be happy.

There were yards of silk – "Silk is the new in 'Mione" – and pleats and ruffles and delicate little folds. Then at the very edges were a plethora of feathers. The dress was certainly beautiful. But, Hermione couldn't help but feel slightly sour as his initial idea for the dress had been concocted with Lavender Sian nee Brown, super model extraordinaire and one of Ron's earliest girlfriends. He had assured her that it was well and truly over and that "It's only to get an idea 'Mione, because she knows all the latest fashionable styles." The words 'Because you obviously wouldn't when you can't even get yourself a wedding dress' hung unspoken, yet hinted at, in the air.

Ron would be absolutely delighted with the look. He wouldn't find anything wrong with it. It was his vision come to life – the trophy of the year. Big bucks, gold and silver. The reigning queen who would trounce everybody underfoot. She looked like a million dollars. Yes, he would adore it.

Yet, unbidden to her mind floated an incident that had happened the first time she saw the dress.

Hermione stood exasperatedly, staring at the covered casing on top of her desk which swamped over all her meticulous papers. The idiot dressmakers had delivered her wedding dress to her office instead of the hotel. She had argued with the delivery man for a good half hour to no avail: she was stuck with it. How on earth was she to lug it back to the hotel?

There door opened with a sharp click. "The folder that – Jesus, Granger, what's this?"

"Ever heard of knocking Malfoy?" Hermione snatched the heavy dress off the desk before he could get his hands on it.

A look of pure delight shot across Draco's face. "Is this your wedding dress? Jesus, I have to see this."

"No!" Hermione protested – too late, the covering magically fell away revealing the concoction of silk, feathers, and ruffles in her arms.

He grabbed the dress from her hands, lifting it up and inspecting its full length. Then he carefully placed it on her desk, his expression blank. "Is this your idea?"

"Is what my idea?"

"For such a smart person you are so stupid sometimes," he muttered, then looked at her directly. "The idea for the dress, Granger, the idea for the dress."

"Yes… well, no, not really." Malfoy looked at her sharply. "I didn't really have any preferences so Ron planned this for me."

"Weasley had a 'vision' for you?"

Her mouth popped open. "How would you know?"

"Seemed like a thing he would do." He didn't elaborate.

Hermione touched the ruffles ruefully. "He thinks I look like a jewel in this," she said sadly, but then remembered who she was talking to and promptly shut her mouth.

"I'd say you'd look like something a rich sixty year old hag would wear. Something particularly feathery."

"Oh thank you so much, ferret. I feel so honoured. Gee, I wonder why I ever inviting your snivelling ass to my wedding in the first place. I think I had dementia that day."

He grinned. "Just my opinion. I didn't really consider you a ruffles and silk kind of person."

"What, now you have a vision for me? Get in line Draco, too many people do."

He smirked, leaning against the wall. "See, now that would be you. Fiery passion combined with a gentle innocence. That would have been the perfect combination for you."

"And how would you know?"

"Because I know you."

Her brown eyes met his silver ones, and suddenly she was plunged back into their seventh year at Hogwarts, the year after the war. The year that was filled with sunshine, hopes, dreams, laughter, friends… and Draco Malfoy. The ridiculous attempts he made to teach her Quidditch, her running after him with a book because he had stolen something of hers, his teasing jabs at her, smacking him playfully each time he did… walks in the rain and the sun… laughing hysterically over a prank… getting locked together in an anti-magic closet… kissing him, touching him, holding him…

She felt cool fingers on her cheeks, cupping her face, a gentle word - perhaps her name, and then his lips were on hers, kissing her, and she was kissing him back, her fingers winding themselves into his silver hair, and it was just like before, when everything was free and wild and perfect, when there was no Ron to worry about because he was with – Ron.

Her eyes flew open, and she pulled herself away, staring at him wild eyed. "Draco… I… I… we can't… I'm sorry… Ron. Ron is there." Still stuttering Hermione sat down in her chair, a thousand years' worth of despair hanging in her heart.

She looked down at her hands, preferring to look anywhere except at the frozen man in front of her. "I'm getting married in two weeks Draco. To Ron. I… I need to get this work done."

She didn't say it, but the 'Please go away' hung in the air. "Of course. I'm sorry." Draco, unfreezing himself, felt something odd in his throat. "The file you need."

She heard him place it on her desk, and when she looked up again, he was gone.

Gazing at herself numbly in the mirror, Hermione saw a tear etch itself down her cheek. Hastily she rubbed it away before anyone saw, and turned as brightly as she could to Ginny. "Tell you what. Let's do something special tonight Gin, with the girls."

Ginny sparkled. "Perfect. Today is the last night you're going to a single woman, so… a hen party?"

"Excellent," said Hermione mischievously. "I know just the place to go."

[][][]

"Really Hermione?" asked Ginny sceptically, as a woman wearing practically nothing danced on top of a counter. "A bar? Before your wedding day?"

"Why not?" queried Hermione, scanning the row of bottles. "Firewhiskey. And muggle alcohol. Excellent."

"Well, because," Ginny struggled to explain. "Because… it's very unlike your usually prim- I mean responsible behaviour."

"I'm just going to toss the prim act for tonight Ginny. Just drink, dance and grind," Hermione said, twinkling and giving a suggestive swing to her hips.

Ginny laughed. "Oh, boy, this is going to be fun."

… A few hours later …

Draco nursed a bottle of Firewhiskey in his hands, people watching. The usual crowd was there, along with a throng of giddy girls - who weren't regulars - dancing. The women were all clearly begging to get laid and were all clearly very drunk. One girl with blonde hair made her way over to the back, where a lone girl was sitting on top of a counter, holding an empty champagne flute but appearing to be surprisingly sober.

"Come an' dansh 'Ermione," Luna slurred, a merry smile plastered on her face. "It'sh sho fun."

"Maybe in a bit, Luna," Hermione said. "You go and have fun."

"Ok," Luna giggled, pirouetting like a ballerina. "The wrackshpurts are telling me that I am vewy dwunk. And that you are a vewy nice person."

Hermione smiled. "Thank you. You are very nice too. Go on, Luna, go dance. I'll come later."

Draco watched the blonde staggering away. He glanced again at the other woman, then sat up straight. She was wearing a crisp blouse and skirt, her brown hair pulled up in a messy bun. Was it…? – It was. Grinning broadly, he beckoned to the bartender.

"A shot for the lady there."

He watched as the bartender made his way across to her and gave her the glass, pointing at him when she shook her head. She turned her gaze to him, and her eyes widened in shock as she saw him. He raised his glass to her in mock salute and watched her face harden. She grabbed the drink from the bartender and downed it in one go.

Impressed, he raised his eyebrows. In return, she hopped down from the counter and made her way to him. "Never thought I'd see you get drunk," he said as she sat down on the barstool next to him.

"Oh, I'm not drunk yet. Just buzzed." This time, she called the bartender. "Another two shots please."

"Two?" Draco asked in disbelief. This was Hermione Granger after all.

"You didn't think I'd get drunk alone did you?" Hermione asked, pushing one glass towards him. "One's for you. Drink up."

"Your generosity knows no bounds I'm sure." But still he drank it.

"Three?"

"What about four?" he said, catching on.

Hermione opened her mouth to say 'Five', but then thought the better of it. "Deal."

Draco laughed, and as earlier, they both downed the liquor together.

… A little later…

Empty glasses littered the table, when this time Parvati found her. "There'sh you arreee. Commee ooonnn." And Parvati – proving to be surprisingly strong – dragged Hermione to dance.

Draco watched as the girl started to dance rather provocatively with Parvati Patil. She shook her chocolate locks free from its clip, then swung her hips back to back with Parvati. The two girls danced as if they were possessed, swinging their hips and performing rather acrobatic movements that Draco knew the everyday Hermione would repel with horror.

By now, it was not only Draco watching them – between them the duo attracted the attention of every male in the bar. The brunette versus the raven. Ravishing.

He unconsciously stepped towards the little vixen, only to find her gaze directly levelled at him. He couldn't quite believe his eyes, when she crooked a finger at him.

"Having fun?" she asked, grabbing his shirt.

"Maybe," he grinned. "I should get you drunk more ofte-" He lost his train of thought as her fingers slid under his shirt and played across his chest.

"You were saying?" she purred in his hear, nibbling it slightly. "You were saying that we should get out of here?"

"Yes love. Exactly." And he hoisted her into his arms, crushing her lips with his in a burning kiss.

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