Author's Note: I just wanted to collect and archive all of the prompts I have received, and figured I may as well post them. Each chapter is a different drabble/one shot, and can be about anything or anyone in the Harry Potter world, but I will preface it with a summary so as to not waste anyone's time.

Prompt: A wedding ceremony between Hermione Granger/Tom Riddle. Enjoy.

A Wedding at Malfoy Manor

Hermione gave herself one final look in the mirror, her reflection distorted by the gossamer veil that sat atop her head and fell to just below her shoulders, her honey colored curls tamed beneath it. Shaking hands smoothed over the front of her voluminous skirt and she closed her eyes as she inhaled sharply, a useless attempt to settle her nerves. It was silly, really, how someone as confident and poised as herself was not exempt from the ball of twine winding in her stomach as she awaited for the moment she would walk through the double doors and down the makeshift aisle. She had never been one to fantasize about her wedding and to create a perfect man that any future love interests would then be held up against, preferring instead to keep to her books, to dream instead of adventure and escapism than of domestic living.

That had all been before Tom Riddle, though. And just as he was the only one who had ever once made her heart beat in an unsteady rhythm as though it had forgotten what came natural to it, he had made the thought of standing arm in arm seem desirable. Something to covet, even.

Behind the fog of her veil, she saw herself smile, chewing her bottom lip. She had known him for a long time, had grown up beside him when she was left behind at the orphanage with nothing to cling to but a favorite sweater and hope despite the bitter chill, the remaining pressure behind her eyes as she thought about the loss of her parents. He was not cruel like the other children, did not consider her a freak for the strange things that happened when she was around, as the magic she did not yet know she possessed worked through her. He was startlingly kind, in his own ways, with eyes that softened when he looked to her and a readiness to defend her when others wanted her to hurt.

She did not always agree with his methods, especially when they began attending Hogwarts and an entire arsenal of hexes and curses were practically handed to them. But despite how often they would fight, she could never deny that there was a pull between, a connection that was far stronger than any other she had experienced or witnessed.

"You're a monster, you know. I don't much care for how quick you are to dole out punishment," she had told him once, frowning sternly as she sat beside him.

He seemed nonplussed by her criticism, smirking instead as though the mantle of monster were a crown worth flaunting. "Typically, when someone defends a fair lady's honor, he is considered a knight in shining armor, not a beast," had been his only response.

"It wasn't my honor. It was some insipid fifth year calling me a mudblood because his finite intelligence couldn't summon a better insult. You really didn't need to literally rearrange his face- where did you find that spell anyway? Never mind, the fact is, you attacked someone for a relatively minor offense," she admonished with a shrug. "That makes you a monster, not a hero."

"Same thing," he had muttered.

And despite her frustration with his dismissal, and the terribly grinding realization that her words had little impact- that he would never stop himself from cursing someone just because she didn't approve of it- she only ever grew closer to him. Perhaps she was drawn to his charisma, to his ability to wield the attention of an entire room with nothing more than his smile. Or his appreciation of academia and their long arguments and debates as they sat under the foliage of an ancient tree, forgetting the world around them and often running late to class as a result. Perhaps it was because despite the many women fluttering around him and giggling like fools, he chose her- the plainest and least remarkable of them all.

Because to him, she was nothing less than extraordinary, a powerful witch to be revered.

Pulling herself from her thoughts, she smiled wistfully at her reflection before turning from it and heading towards the courtyard. She had not known quite how Tom convinced the Malfoys to allow use of their home for their small ceremony, considering that her blood purity- or lack thereof- was well known and well despised among the regal family. A part of her knew that it required some more arm pulling than either would care to admit, and she hoped that arm pulling had been the worst of it.

Despite that however, the setting had been beautifully decorated, and she paused in awe for a moment as she walked onto the marble floor of the veranda.

The courtyard and its garden were exactly as ostentatious and over the top as one would expect of the Malfoys, with a large fountain in the center that depicted a young maiden carved from stone, a snake entwining itself around her torso and rising to loop over her neck and gaze into the unseeing eyes. Her body was draped lazily by a cloak that hung onto her, leaving her breasts exposed in a 'v' formation, one hand lifted as though to hold the serpent closer to her.

Placed in front of the steps of the fountain was the altar, a surprisingly simple design with with cross sections of wood forming a lattice, ivy weaved through it with brilliantly white roses poking through. Beneath the fanning of flora, Tom stood waiting for her, dressed handsomely in black dressrobes and his ebony curls neatly pushed back. Dark eyes met hers, flicking away as he drunk in her image, and then he smiled, the action not quite meeting his eyes. It never does, though.

The ceremony was informal, with only several guests in attendance- close friend's of Tom that regarded Hermione as though they both feared and cherished her. She nodded at each in turn, smiling softly, as she finally approached the small dais, coming to stand beside Tom in front of the Ministry officiant.

"Beautiful as always, my darling," Tom whispered to her, leaning in close as the elderly wizard began speaking the vows of the traditional handfasting. "I can almost forgive you for insisting on all this pomp and circumstance."

She suppressed a snort, turning to look away so that he couldn't see her roll her eyes. "I hardly think this is considered a grievous indulgence," she muttered back, her fingers twisting nervously before she reached out her hand, the wizard wrapping a single silver rope over her wrist before doing the same to Tom. "Besides, you owe me, for all you put me through."

He ignored her, a small smirk twitching on the corner of his lips as another golden band was applied, tying them together once more. Several more bands are wrapped around them, each of a different color, and each tied with a different promise, a separate vow.

'May passion and love fill each moment of your days, never to settle as the years drift by, and only growing stronger...'

'May serenity accompany you in your journey through life together, and contentedness with all of life's misgivings knowing that you are by each others' side...'

'May good fortune reside over you, for together you are blessed and beloved...'

Several minutes pass, and by the end of it they were locked at the wrists, ten different chords in a plethora of colors binding them to one another. The final one- a white rope of knotted hemp- was wrapped around them once more, crossing over the others.

"And with this final chord, will you be bound together in matrimony, to spend a lifetime with the other and your vows of promise. To never abandon, to never forsake, and to protect above all...with this final chord, you are now husband and wife, and you may seal the bond with a kiss..."

Tom pulled her closer then, flush against him with their hands serving as the only barrier, awkwardly wound together. Using his free hand, he grasped hold of her veil, flipping it over to reveal her narrow face and her pink lips, slipping between her teeth as she shifted under his intense gaze. Swooping down, he kissed her, gently at first, his lips meeting her own before he becomes more insistent, nipping onto her bottom lip with his teeth. It does not take long for the chords to slip away into nothingness, dissolving with the magic as if falling like shackles. She smiled against his lips, bringing her newly freed hand to cup his cheek.

"Now that you're my husband, will you listen to me more?" she asked, pulling away only slightly.

He shrugged, one side of his mouth tipping upward into a crooked smile. "I doubt it."

-xXx-

Author's Note: To request a story, send me an ask at my tumblr: reneehartblog (it's what I respond most efficiently to)