If you have a woman who is mad at you, I pity you, my friend. A mad woman is like a walking, talking Cruciatus Curse, and every word she throws at you will make you wince. However, if you have a witch who refuses to see your side of the argument, and causes you endless sleepless nights because she will not let herself be touched, then I might as well send you flowers with my condolences. Because every word you say, and every step you take in such a crisis brings you directly to the wrong end of her wand. And there's no saying when she might just take pity on you and let you die instantly rather than making you wait, anticipating your doom. Having established that, may I suggest that anyone reading this sends me an entire flower shop, as I might be dying but, just in case I survive for a while, the bouquets may come in handy to please my woman or, at least, to hide behind when all hope is lost. For I am not just dealing with any random witch. Or with a Slytherin. It is far worse than that. It is the Hermione Granger. Gryffindor. Recipient of the Order of Merlin, First Class. Winner of the Edwina Clarice Award for Outstanding Contribution to Spell Invention and Research (she had invented 51 spells, and found counter spells for 29). Curse Breaker for the DMC Agency, top Curse Breaking Agency in the Kingdom. Best Friend to the overestimated hero Harry Potter and his gay friend Ronald Weasley. And, my girlfriend. Merlin Bless us all. This is the girl who escaped the Devil's Snare in her First Year with just her brains, and unfortunately saved her friends too; brewed Polyjuice Potion by herself in her Second Year and transformed into a fully human sized cat (the mention of which always earns me a tricky hex or two); helped in the escape of the most dangerous convict of the times in her Third Year; looked breathtakingly beautiful at the Yuletide Ball in her Fourth Year (despite me having accidentally enlarged her teeth the same year); broke into the Ministry with a bunch of human Pygmy Puffs in her Fifth Year; led the then Headmistress to her doom amongst a herd of centaurs (after which the woman was admitted to St. Mungo's Hospital for a year); fought bravely against a bunch of Death Eaters invading her school (thanks to me); went for a year long picnic with her two henchmen to search for Horcruxes, enjoying various playful activities like riding on a dragon after breaking out of the Gringotts Vault, waltzing with Voldy's pet snake in Godric's Hollow—
TANGGGGG!
"What?!" cried Draco as he rubbed the back of his head. "Where did you get that vase from?"
"You do know I am watching what you are typing there?"
Draco groaned. "Fine. Whatever. But be careful not to give me a concussion. And it's not exactly lies that I am typing, you know."
"I never waltzed with that bloody snake Draco! You know those were grave situations that you are making fun of right now; I might even have died back then."
Of course, Draco said nothing.
First, he was being given the cold treatment for absolutely no reason, and this had been going on for the past few weeks.
Second, he was being made to learn all that Muggle stuff – for months now without complaint. (Pfft! As if he would ever resort to not complaining!) The only silver lining was that he got to have this thing called a lap-something, where he could play stuff (he never got the hang of, but could not give up), and type entries about his life. The rest of the functions were still a mystery, since Granger had got fed up with his infatuation with the thing, and had given up on teaching him anything more...
Finally, he had been dragged to this stupid wedding of Potty and She-weasel, which was a nightmare in itself. Thankfully, he had been allowed to bring the Lap-whatever-the-fuck-it's-name-was -thing so he could keep himself busy doing something productive rather than "hurling insults at every moving object, and creating a scene."
Trying hard not to pout (A ridiculous accusation made by Granger once, since Malfoys do not pout, period) or to look like it, Draco shut off the thing and got up from his seat. With one swift swirl of his robes (All hail Severus Snape for inventing that remarkable art), he walked towards the window and sat down quietly, lighting a cigar he had taken from the box on the table.
888
Hermione Granger was not feeling guilty.
Definitely not!
Of late, Draco had been doing a stellar job of infuriating all those around him, and making everyone's life a hell, so it was fitting that she scolded him. Irrespective of the fact she had been doing it quite a bit –a bit as in a lot – recently, he deserved it, and for that reason, she was NOT feeling guilty.
Never.
At present, her biggest problem was not the arrogant blond, however, but getting ready for the wedding.
Because Draco's colleagues all wanted to mass-kiss his arse one last time before they Apparated from Central London, both arrived extremely late and earned a spectacular display of frowns as they entered. Draco, being Draco, ignored it all and walked on arrogantly, as though it were his own Manor. Ginny met Hermione on the way in and threatened to hex her if she did not make it to the Hall in exactly twenty minutes. Harry waited until Draco was a good distance away before he found it safe to approach Hermione, and reprimand her for irking his to-be-wife with their unpunctuality.
"I love your sandals Potter. Got them from Victoria's Secret did you?" came the silky, irritating voice from none other than His Highness, the Blond Git.
Hermione slapped a hand to her head as Harry looked down to check his footwear. The glittering golden sandals did nothing to enhance his masculinity (which was always a subject of tasteless humour for her fiancé). Harry had not yet dressed either, judging by the worn-out robes over his white shirt and black trousers, and those golden sandals...
"Did you sneak in to the bride's room earlier?" Hermione asked suspiciously. Clearly, Harry, as aloof as he was from the latest trends, was not entirely a fashion disaster, so this could not have been a conscious fashion move on his part.
"No!" said Harry in a tone that only confirmed her suspicions. "I would never! And you," he said turning towards Draco, "get your facts straight. Victoria's Secret does not sell sandals. You think you know everything, don't you?"
"Well what do you know about it?" asked Ginny, wearing a dark look.
Harry gulped. Draco smirked. Hermione groaned.
What followed was that the sandals were thrown away. (Yes, he had got them from Ginny's room while sneaking in for a quickie). Hermione was scolded by the bride for being late. Draco was ignored (Thank Merlin!). And Harry was quizzed by his irate fiancée on his knowledge of Victoria's Secret, at which point, Hermione found it wise to retire to their suite, dragging Draco with her.
He, of course, wanted to stay to hear the argument.
With all of that entertainment, Hermione had still to dress. Draco had managed to dress himself in mere seconds, all the while working on his laptop; one moment Hermione was unpacking her clothes from her bag, with her back turned to him, and the next moment, as she approached to check what he was typing so vigorously, he was suited up and looking fairly handsome.
That was an understatement.
He looked glorious enough to burst her ovaries. But that was beside the point.
She was sore with him.
Besides the fact that he was always the troublemaker, Hermione had started to get really tired of waiting. The day she had gone out for shopping with Ginny for her bridal dress, she had hit upon the realisation.
Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy had been going out for four years. And her ring finger was still bare.
It was not entirely his fault. Both of them had been very busy building their careers. She was a curse breaker who had to be constantly on move, and he was the CEO of his own company and had to be around for meetings and negotiations with various business partners. They had their moments together, most of which were either spent worshipping each other's bodies (not necessarily on the bed, of course, because both were adventurous) or having blazing arguments about things that hardly made any sense. But it had never dampened the fire they had between them. Despite being a constant headache, Draco was always supportive, albeit argumentative "for her own good", protective, caring, logical (she hated men who were illogical; it was pointless having discussions with them), subtly romantic and amazingly good in bed. And, most importantly, he was deeply loyal to her, which was a surprise considering the number of scantily dressed women she saw around his office.
Of course, he would eye up women with 'nice cauldrons', as he put it. But that's where it ended. He knew only too well what would await him back home if he dared to take a step closer to any of those shameless women.
So why the wait for marriage?
It is not like she was desperate to marry him. But most of her peers had managed to tie the knot and here she was, waiting and wondering if Draco would ever propose.
Even Narcissa, during their visits to the manor, would nag them about getting married, and voice her concern over the matter.
"Is something wrong with your chemicals? I mean the ones that help you breed?" she would ask, at which Lucius would turn a brilliant shade of green, Draco would drop his spoon, and Hermione would take a deep breath and applaud Narcissa mentally for her interest in Muggle science.
At least someone was sharing her concern.
Of course, she dropped hints herself, now and then, but either he was too daft or a really great actor, because he always interpreted them wrongly.
"Draco..." "Hmm." "I was thinking, how much do platinum rings cost these days?" "Do I look like a brochure to you?" "I am serious, you prat." "No idea. I pay. I don't ask the price." "Yeah, you're rich; I got the memo in the Second Year. But my point is, I shall need one soon, so I just thought it would be better to know how much they cost. Because, knowing you, you'll probably buy one that costs millions, and I will look like an idiot wearing something that precious every day." "Firstly, I have always hated rings. They make my fingers itch. So I, being a Good Samaritan, would advise you not to wear them; your fingers might swell up. The last thing I want is for my girlfriend to have swollen fingers. I have a reputation to uphold." "..." "..." "I was talking about a wedding ring, not just any old ring." "Oh. Why? Are you getting one for Weasley? He probably has no idea what wedding rings are. Please tell me that big ape has finally admitted he has a thing for Blaise and got up the nerve to pop the question?" "..." "What?" "I hate you. And Ron is NOT GAY!"
And that was how it went. Every time.
Sigh.
"Are you ever getting dressed?"
Hermione was brought back to the present by his voice, and she turned at his question. Draco was staring at her quizzically, with the cigar resting between his fingers.
"Oh. Yes," she said, shaking her head to clear her thoughts. "I'm just going..."
Draco stared at her as she walked towards the other room, carrying her dress.
"Are you pregnant?"
Hermione's heels scraped on the floor as she came a sudden halt. She whirled round to face him, her jaw hanging. "Huh?" was all she could say.
Draco shrugged. "You have been acting pretty strange," he said, his voice laced with genuine concern. "I have been noticing it for a while." He got up from the armchair and walked towards her. "Not only have you been bitchy for the past few weeks, but you have also been sort of glowing, something my mother once said was associated with pregnancy."
Hermione stared at him for a whole minute.
Draco raised his eyebrows at her.
"I am not pregnant," she said, lowering her eyes and taking deep breaths. "I am 'glowing' because I have been going to the fucking beauty parlour, to look good for the wedding."
"But you already looked sexy," he said, unaware of her fury. "And what about the bitching part?"
Hermione stomped out of the room, leaving Draco behind, surprised.
"Now what?" he muttered to himself.
888
Five hours later.
As I was saying, my darling girlfriend is spectacular in every sense: the medals, the honours and all that jazz. But do not make the mistake of thinking she is nothing but a nerd. She is gorgeous. Right now, I am watching her apologise to Potty for losing his wedding ring, while he is reassuring her it's not her fault. And she looks breathtakingly beautiful. If only Potty weren't in the frame. And Weasley, who is having a wonderful time showing me his deadliest glare. Go frighten a fly, prat! Well, about Hermione. I am not going to try to describe what she's wearing or how her hair is done. All I will say is that with her petite figure draped in mauve, she has managed to remind me once again how lucky I am to have her. I would never say any of this to her; I am not good with compliments. But she knows there are things between us that remain unspoken. After being an absolute jerk to her in school, and earning the Dark Mark in my Sixth Year, I am amazed that a sane woman would think of committing herself to the Malfoy heir... But, five years ago, we both got drunk at a party and ended up shagging, and she was good enough not to curse me the next day for having taken advantage of her. Of course, every time we met after that I expected her to attack me but, being the saint she is, she would only blush at the memory, and move away as far as possible. Then, at the next party, unfortunately for her, we ended up in bed again, and after that she gave up trying to avoid me altogether. How, exactly, I got promoted from a fuck buddy to a boyfriend is still a wonder. But now I am being given the chance to rediscover myself through her eyes and I hope that…
"Merlin, you are being sappy."
Draco jumped as George Weasley's voice boomed close to his ear.
"What the fuck?!" he said, turning angrily towards the Weasley clown as the other took a seat next to him. "How dare you read it!"
"Well, it's a wide screen," said George grinning. "I think that escaped your notice."
"Piss off!" grunted Draco as he shut down the laptop. "I can't get any peace at all."
"Just because Hermione gave you a toy to keep you entertained does not mean you need to play with it while all the fun is taking place."
"Huh?"
"Look behind you."
Draco turned. Apparently, he had been too engrossed in his typing to see or even hear Ginny Weasley performing karaoke. She sounded awful, but it was fun to see her lose a grip on herself, singing out some awful lyrics to her newly-wedded husband.
Harry, on the other hand, was looking highly embarrassed, while Ron was trying to refrain from laughing.
Draco looked at Hermione, who was smiling, but not looking as lively as she had been earlier, before the ceremony.
Suddenly, he felt enormously guilty...
"Vaprosa Serum."
Draco frowned at George. "Thought of a name for your unborn child already?"
"One of our products," he said, ignoring the remark, still smiling at the spectacle his sister was making of herself. "It makes you lose your inhibitions. A tinge of veritaserum and, er, one other ingredient used in Firewhisky, and you are pouring your heart out, my friend."
Draco snorted. "So are you telling me that this potion is showing its effects on She-weasel right now?"
"And on you." George's smile was even broader than before.
"Excuse me?"
"I added a bit of the potion to everyone's drinks." George grinned, enjoying the look of horror on Draco's face. "Up till now, only three of you have drunk it: you, Ginny and Ron. But Ron spilled most of his."
"So you're saying..." Draco began, as he clutched at his throat in horror.
"That you're being sappy for a reason." By now George's smile looked positively evil. "Clearly, you can't take your eyes off Hermione. Unfortunately for you, her eyes, for the moment, prefer to be anywhere but on you."
Once the horror of having used one of Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes's products had sunk in, and the desire to murder the man beside him had subsided, Draco looked at his girlfriend, and felt the familiar guilt again.
"Merlin," he said to himself. "She must be wanting to kill me right now."
"Not only her, but also Ron and Ginny. But you can ignore Ginny for the time being," he added, as the bride let out one final shrill note, and ended her song jubilantly, jumping down from the table and running towards Harry, who looked completely mortified by his crazy wife.
"You lost Ginny's ring," said George, turning back to Draco, who had unconsciously taken another sip from his adulterated drink. "Your girlfriend has every right to be mad at you. After all, Harry entrusted it to her because Ron, the best man, can't really be trusted with such things."
"Are trying to guilt-trip me?" demanded Draco, irritated.
George gave him a strange look. "A Malfoy feeling guilty would be akin to a Weasley being gay."
"There you go."
"Excuse me?"
"I have been saying it for a long time," said Draco, getting up. "Your little brother is gay. Go ask him. Slip him some more of your potion and you'll find him fucking Zabini in a corner."
Before George could reply, Draco walked purposefully towards his girlfriend, trying hard to keep his balance.
888
Hermione watched as Ginny got up on Harry's back and began declaiming her love for him, much to the amusement of the onlookers and the discomfort of her husband. She had never seen Ginny look so happy. And, as much as Harry was trying to control his wife, she could not miss the concern and love that glinted in his eyes as he struggled to support her weight.
That's what being married does to people.
Hermione sighed, and found her mood turning foul again as she remembered earlier events.
An idiot. She had an idiot of a boyfriend who loved to make things worse for her when she really was not in a mood for it. I mean, what asshole drops a wedding ring down the toilet just before the ceremony and flushes it, too, before realising? She had almost clawed Draco when he had confessed it to her just as the bride made her way down the aisle. And that without the slightest bit of remorse.
There had followed one of their biggest fights ever.
"Stop screaming, idiot! They'll hear us." "You think I care, Draco?" raged an angry Hermione. "Did you even consider the value of that ring before tossing it in the loo?" "Firstly," said Draco, getting irritated, "I didn't toss it, my pocket did. My entire system, including my clothes, rejects anything belonging to Potter or the Weasley clan. And secondly," he added, before she could interrupt, "I've already told you I don't look at the price, but given that the ring was bought by Potter himself, I assume it must have been a cheap one." Hermione took a deep breath. "Money is not everything Draco. And you would be an idiot not to have learnt that by now." She had lowered her voice, but the bitterness was still there. "That ring was more valuable than any pair of hundred carat diamond earrings you might give to me. You know why?" she added, sadly. "Because that ring had something of greater value than magic. It had Harry's love for Ginny in it and it was a testament to how, against all the odds, they survived to get married." "That's bullshit," said Draco. Hermione looked at him angrily. "But of course, I don't expect you to understand that. You'd rather have me as a fucking girlfriend you can dump any time you like, than a wife you would be bonded with forever." There was a long silence as Draco's expression turned blank and his eyes turned hard. Hermione knew she had crossed a line this time, but she was too mad at him to care. "I know you don't think much of marriage, I've got that signal pretty clear. But there are two people in the Hall who do take it seriously, and I don't want their wedding ruined just because you don't know when to stop joking." She said this all in one breath, trying to avoid seeing the hard look he was giving her. "So go and find a ring for Ginny; I don't care how you get it. But if this wedding is called off because of you, I don't think I'll ever talk to you again, Draco." And with that she stormed into the Hall, without a single look back.
Now, as she remembered their earlier conversation and how harsh she had sounded, she was feeling uneasy. She could not take it any more; she was done hoping Draco would come to his senses and pop the question. But it had been stupid of her to expect a wedding just because everyone—save for Ron—had been married off.
On the other hand, the man needed to know when to stop treating everything as a joke and to start taking things seriously.
"Am I right in thinking my presence would annoy you?"
Hermione's whole body tensed up when she heard his voice behind her. Without looking round, she walked away from him, and out onto the balcony.
Then she mentally kicked herself. Either she was really stupid or her brain was not working. Wanting to keep away from him, she had actually given him an open invitation to come and talk with her privately.
On a balcony.
Great going, girl.
As she'd predicted, Draco came out just as she was about to leave. He had the same blank expression as he'd had earlier, but now his eyes were soft.
"Where did you get the ring?" she demanded immediately. If she was going to have to talk to him, better to get the facts clear.
"Which ring?" he dead-panned.
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Where did you get the ring from?"
"I've had it with me for a long time."
"You actually foresaw that Ginny's ring would get flushed down the toilet?" she asked incredulously.
"I foresaw you yelling at me, finally letting out all that frustration."
Hermione crossed her arms. "You like making me mad, don't you?"
"You like being mad at me," he said, matter-of-factly.
"Draco," she said, raising her hands, "I really am not in a mood to—"
"Why did you not just say it?"
"Say what?" asked Hermione.
"That you wanted to get married," replied Draco, looking deep into her eyes. "It would have saved us a lot of time." He inched closer to her. "And energy."
Her stomach had started turning over and over, but Hermione had a lot more to say. "I did drop hints. And I did not want to look desperate." She realised her voice sounded much softer than she had intended.
"So what if you are desperate?" he said, raising a hand to tuck her hair behind her ears. "Is that wrong?"
"I don't know." Hermione's mind had frozen.
Draco lifted her chin, so that their lips were just inches apart. "The ring was for you."
It took a couple of moments for Hermione to register what he'd just admitted. She was too mesmerised by the curve of his lips.
"Sorry, what?" She pulled back in shock.
In reply, Draco reached into his pocket and brought out a platinum ring. Hermione's mouth fell open.
"Hang on," she said, at last, still looking at the ring he was holding out to her, "I thought Ginny's ring had been flushed away?"
"You actually believed that my pocket vomited out Potter's ring while I was in the loo?" he asked incredulously. "I just wanted to freak them out. I didn't expect you to react the way you did." He said that with a tinge of hurt in his voice. "Whatever gave you the idea that I would ever think of dumping you?"
Hermione stared at him for a long time before realisation dawned on her. "You ass, you made me angry for nothing!" She looked embarrassed.
"Well," said Draco, his lips quirking, "once we'd established that your bitchiness had nothing to do with being pregnant, I assumed it had something to do with weddings."
Hermione stared at him.
"Don't blame me for not approaching you earlier," he said, seriously. "Potter beat me to it with She-weasel and I feared that if I proposed to you at the same time, you would get some stupid idea about a double wedding." He shuddered. "So I thought it safer to wait until this wedding was over with before popping the question. But I was afraid I would not survive your constant raging and all your hints, so—"
The rest of his sentence was cut off as Hermione launched herself upon him, locking her lips with his, her hands flying to hold him round his neck. Having experienced such sudden attacks before, Draco swiftly adjusted himself against her body and kissed her passionately in return. It had been a long time since he had been allowed to truly enjoy the feel of her small, warm body against him, what with her being so irrationally mad at him. It felt like home, especially when he lowered his hands to her bum and squeezed it hard, and received the familiar response of her stamping her foot on his.
After what seemed like ages, Hermione broke the kiss with a look of embarrassment. "I am really sorry for yelling at you earlier. I never meant to be so harsh."
Draco gave her peck on the lips in response. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said, smoothing her hair. "I guess I have been Oblivated by that kiss."
Hermione grinned at him lovingly and hugged him. God, she was lucky to have this lunatic for her boyfr—fiancé. Ahem. She grinned to herself.
"So is it a yes?" he asked.
"Like I have the heart to say no after treating you so badly," she answered, resting her head on his chest contentedly. "And anyway, I have—"
"FUCK, NO!"
At the sudden shout, Draco and Hermione drew apart, and looked curiously towards the Hall.
"What was that? George?" asked Hermione as she started walking towards the door, with Draco following close behind. Inside, the guests were staring at two figures embracing awkwardly. A few feet away, George Weasley stood with his mouth open, and a glass of drink in his hands. Draco recognised the drink well.
He looked closer at the couple.
Ronald Weasley was hugging a shocked Blaise Zabini.
What the hell!
George Weasley began muttering profanities as the rest of the guests either laughed or murmured amongst themselves in shock.
"Vaprosa Serum," said Draco to Hermione, grinning devilishly as his fiancée looked on with amazement.
"What? No. No! We dated back in..."
"Bi-sexual," supplied Draco.
Hermione looked at him incredulously.
Draco patted her arm, understandingly. "I get that you're in shock, but things like this are pretty normal in the Muggle world, are they not? Anyway," he said straightening his robes as he watched Blaise struggling to get away from the redhead, "I believe I have a lot to type up on the Lap-pop. If you'll excuse me, dear."
THE END