Those Who Play With Fire
Just A Penniless Writer
Standard Disclaimer Applies.
Author's Plea: I felt like a crossover. A bitter, 'look at my messy life' crossover.
Hermione didn't believe she had ever seen such a miserable bride-to-be in her life. Of course, she hadn't been to too many weddings, only a precious few as a child and Bill and Fleur's just a few years back, but she felt it was a safe statement all the same. There was life in the woman's eyes, yes, but there was also a terrible longing etched in the lines of her face, a look of continued solitude that wrenched Hermione's heart.
But then perhaps it was because she herself was in such romantic peril that she saw her own struggles reflected by the woman. Whatever it was, she was almost certain normal brides didn't hitch up their skirts and sit on the steps of a castle for a smoke. Especially since, if her behaviour was any indication, she was not so practiced in smoking that she struggled not to cough after each inhalation.
"You don't have to watch, you know." The woman's voice quite startled her, so deep had she been speculating. "If you feel so inclined, join me."
"I don't smoke," Hermione responded pointedly.
"Neither do I," the woman said with a wry smile as she rubbed out the ciggy. "Come, sit. You look like you need a breather."
Hermione could neither deny her logic nor her request. After all, it would be rude to not sit with someone whom had invited you to their wedding. Well, perhaps not invited, per say, but rude nonetheless. Tucking her robes around her, she took care to Scourgify the floor and set her punch glass down before carefully taking a seat on the step.
"Wine? You look like you could use it as well," the woman stated baldly while waving a half empty bottle in front of them.
"No, thank you," Hermione mumbled while she let her shoulders droop. In the presence of this woman's obvious sadness, she felt safe to let show her own frustrations.
"At the very least," the woman began anew, "tell me your story. You look as if you have a good story to tell."
Hermione pondered this request for a few seconds before her reluctance was pushed aside by the terrible need to tell someone who wouldn't judge her.
"I've made a terrible mistake," she began in a rush.
"And?"
"And nothing will ever be the same. I have so very few options, and none of them are good." She paused. "I never planned this."
There must have been something particularly telling in her words for the woman immediately looked to her with fresh interest.
"Pregnant?"
"Yes."
"How long?"
"Two months."
"The father?"
"That would be part of the problem."
"I see."
They both turned to face the courtyard, silently sipping their drinks.
"Do you mind if I ask why you were smoking if you don't smoke?" Hermione said after a rather long silent moment.
"Well," the woman began as she stared at the ground out ciggy on the step. "Do you know who my illustrious bride-groom is?"
At Hermione's questioning expression, she laughed lightly.
"No, I don't suppose you do. Despite the increase in security, everyone is trying to keep this entire wedding as quiet as possible... for now."
"I was curious why a wedding would be held at Hogwarts," Hermione acknowledged. "It isn't something that is regularly done, so I had figured it must be important."
"Important... Important if you people want to access your money. Important, I'd say."
"But what does this have to do with money?"
"I was told the goblins run the banks." Hermione nodded. "My dear husband-to-be is the Goblin King."
And Hermione, who had been accepted at a magical academy when she was 11, fought in a magical war when she was 16, and found herself pregnant at 20, was dumbfounded.
"But there has never been any record of a Goblin King," she mumbled.
"Then you didn't look in the right books. If I have learned anything, it is that there is more truth in fairy tales than any would guess."
There was a bit of a silence as Hermione tried to accept this new bit of knowledge and the woman fished a pack of gum from an unseen pocket in her voluminous skirts.
"But, how does one meet a fairy tale King?" Hermione finally asked with exasperation.
"Quite simply really," the would-be bride responded with a self deprecating laugh. "I wished my brother away. To the goblins. Imagine my surprise when they actually came and took him."
"But why would they take him?"
"I asked, of course. The Goblin King is fond of his games, and the Labyrinth is one of them."
"The Labyrinth?"
"He made me run a maze to get my brother back. Much to his surprise, I succeeded..."
She paused and her green eyes seemed to focus on something beyond the walls of the courtyard.
"Little did I know, I'd have to marry him."
"Have to?"
"Oh, he loves me. In his own twisted way, he loves me. And I suppose I might love him as well. In time, we may have reached this decision ourselves. However... the timing leaves much to be desired. It must be done, it will be done, but it certainly brings part of my life to a stand still."
Knowledgeable eyes turned to Hermione.
"But then, I suppose you know something about that."
Hermione smiled grimly before taking another sip of her punch.
"So, why marry now?" she asked curiously.
"Safety. It seems I left his land with a bit more than just my brother." The woman laughed mirthlessly. "I killed a man, killed him in some fluke because I was angry. I never wanted to hurt anyone, and I certainly never wanted the ability to do so without thought."
"And marriage will change that?"
"As he is the one who cursed me, he is one of the few that can teach me. I cannot hurt him, as he cannot hurt me."
"Still, marriage?"
"I do believe it is for the best. I do. It would have happened eventually." She grinned slightly. "He isn't one to take refusal. But yes, I am aware he is twisting the circumstances to bind me early. With marriage he can grant me the control I can't get otherwise." She sighed. "It is for the best, even if I didn't plan it."
Hermione was silent, resting her chin on her bent knees, thinking of all that had been said in the quiet of the courtyard.
"I killed a man too," she said at last, refusing to meet the eye of her strange confidante. "They tell me not to worry, that he would have killed me... but it still feels wrong."
She caught the woman's solemn nod from the corner of her eye.
"As for the father... he's a murderer. He denies it, says he never actually killed anyone... But I just can't believe him. And of all people, I should be the one to believe him. I got him out of prison."
The woman looked at her questioningly.
"I didn't want to, mind you. But his son, this prat I had gone to school with, saved me during the war. Quite on accident, but still, I owed him my life. So when he asked me to represent his father during the trial, I could not say no. There wasn't any need for any research, and there was plenty of evidence against him. He was Evil, and he did Evil things. But I could scarcely blame them for letting him go when one of his own victims represented him."
"So what lead to this?" the bride asked with a slight motion to Hermione's stomach.
"My life-debt did not end with rescuing his father from prison. No, the prat wanted public support as well. He arranged for his father and I to attend a Ministry ball together, though goodness knows no one present wanted the man there less than I. A mockery to those who had died while he stood by his Dark Lord. Of course the son and father, quite independently I hear, took measures to ensure my cooperation. As it turns out, the combination of Gregory's Unctuous Unction and Amortentia produces irresistible appeal... as well as enhanced fertility."
The bride looked at her with a blank expression and grim eyes.
"And why didn't you report them to your Ministry?"
"How could I? What proof did I have? And the rebuke I would get from the Ministry? After all, I had defended the man. I saved him. Not to mention, as he so assuredly informed me, the potion combination left him as unable to resist my 'charms' as I was his. No, there was nothing to do but pretend it had never happened. And I did, I did it so well, until the gifts started to arrive."
"Gifts?"
"Our loving act before our rushed exit at the ball prompted him into deciding I was worth more than my 'dirty heritage' would lead him to believe. The Prophet loves the idea of a relationship between Voldemort's man and Harry Potter's best friend, and so does he. He is obsessed with courting me, with me accepting his 'amicable agreement'."
"I take it he will use your pregnancy to further his own goals," the bride surmised.
"Of course. I can't not tell him – Wizarding law is very clear on this point. I've spent the last week researching here at Hogwarts for a loophole, but I've found nothing. I have to tell him or lose all rights to the child. But if I tell him, he'll force me to become his wife."
"Damned if you do, damned if you don't."
"Exactly. And all because I wasn't watching my back during a skirmish. Sometimes I wish Draco hadn't managed to land on the Death Eater as he was cursing me."
"No you don't. You don't wish that at all."
"No, I don't. But it would make things much simpler."
The bride turned her full green-eyed gaze onto Hermione.
"Perhaps. But playing with fire is only fun when you aren't burned. I think you actually enjoy your experiences with this man. On some level you appreciate the efforts he went through to obtain you."
"I most certainly do not!"
"Of course you do. You are an intellectual, right? You like to plan, research… You must appreciate his efforts."
"His efforts are to make my life miserable!"
"And why would he do that? You say this is a plot to make him socially respectable. How would a hateful wife do that?"
"He could use a potion like before!"
"You have friends, don't you? Don't you trust them to see you are being coerced? Don't you trust them to do whatever it takes to save you?"
The bride's eyes were glassy, as if reliving an experience far far away. Still, Hermione forced herself to answer.
"Of course they would… Bribery then. Blackmail. Goodness knows the man is skilled at both."
"And what could he use against you? What besides a pregnancy that is just as easily ammunition against him?"
Hermione looked about ready to hit the woman when tragic understanding flashed across her expression and her shoulders drooped with the weight. The bride frowned.
"It's only now occurred to you?"
She nodded.
"I'm sorry. Perhaps I am as cruel as he says… At least it makes your choice easier."
"Does it really?"
"No, I suppose not. But you can hope for the best. Have determination. That will never be taken from you. Now, however, I suppose I must be married. Would you mind terribly standing with me at the ceremony?"
"Of course not. It is the least I can do for your patience."
"Thank you…"
"Hermione Granger. And you would be Sarah Williams?"
"Soon to be Queen Sarah," she stated grimly.
As the two women rose from the step and dusted themselves off, Hermione spied the ciggy and frowned.
"You never did explain why you were smoking if you don't regularly smoke."
Sarah looked out into the courtyard, seeing beyond its stone walls into something Hermione knew not.
"I suppose I wanted to die a little before becoming immortal. Those who play with fire, as you well know, always get burned," she said solemnly before turning and striding purposefully, resolutely back into the castle.
Hermione almost thought she could see the burns on the bride, her very essence marred but the jaded bitterness that enveloped her character. But there was something in her straight back and proud shoulders too... she could also see the Queen.