"This is daylight mockery."

Hermione was this close to nodding off, when Ginny spoke up from the bed next to her. Outside, the entire household was asleep except for the curious shrieks and giggles come from Arthur and Molly's room. Hermione didn't really want to think what her boyfriend's parents get up to in the middle of the night, so had cast a muffling spell around the room.

What she hadn't counted on, was the room's inhabitants to start acting up.

"I'm under the same roof as my fiance, and we're not allowed to share a room! No offence, Hermione but he's my...fiance. We're meant to share a room. Girly chit-chat is all good and fun, but I'd much rather have someone I could kiss."

"Nobody's stopping you," Hermione muttered from under her pillow.

"What was that?"

"I'm sure Harry feels the same," Hermione sat up completely, and thumped the pillow back into shape. Satisfied she could rest her head back down, she did exactly that. "It's your wedding the day after tomorrow. Even Molly can't come up with an excuse to split you apart, after that."

"Thank you, Hermione. Glad someone else feels the same."

For a few minutes Ginny didn't say anything, so Hermione began to get hopeful that she could resume her sleep in peace. But just as she was slipping...so temptingly close to nirvana...Ginny rolled over, and propped her head up on her chin. Hermione let out an agonized groan.

"What do you think it would be like?" she whispered, wiggling her eyebrows. "Our "wedding" night?"

To be brutally honest, Hermione didn't have a clue. She was still a virgin, and she wasn't embarrassed about this fact at all. Ronald had explored her upper half once or twice, and her fingers came really close to exploring his lower half. But the doorbell always rang at the wrong moment, or someone flooed in unexpectedly, and their heated exchange would be ruined. Maybe fate was telling her, that she was forever destined to be a Virgin? She actually didn't have a problem with that. Bring on spinsterhood or a life full of Crookshanks!

Anything but hear Ginny speculate what her sex-life would be like.

Especially with Harry.

"I was reading the Daily Prophet, and apparently wizards go wild if you rub newt eggs into your hair. It's an aphrodisiac," Ginny informed her, playing with a strand of her hair.

"Hmmm-mmm."

"And if you bathe in Salmander blood, that makes your skin soft as velvet."

Utter garbage. Normally Hermione would take great pleasure in tearing apart the theories, the Daily Prophet cooked up. She would sit Ginny down with said extract, and multiple sources to prove anything but the truth was revealed on the tabloid. And then she would make herself a cup of tea; self congragulation in every cube of sugar she plopped in.

But it was two o'clock in the morning right now.

The Burrow was currently running amok with wedding preparations, and there was countless dress fittings she had to attend tomorrow. Being the unofficial planner of Harry Potter's big day, there was a lot riding on her shoulders.

And that's why she NEEDED HER SLEEP!

A knock sounded on their door.

"Girls, Order of the Phoenix meeting in the kitchen. Come quickly."

The voice retreated leaving Hermione and Ginny to stare at each other in surprise. It had been so long since their last Order of the Phoenix meeting; Hermione was sure they were disbanded forever. Voldemort was down, a good number of his followers in Azkaban. What more could they want? A vigilante on the remaining deatheaters would be pointless, though occasionally one being snared in Siberia (or another country) would reach them through the grapevine. Another knock further down the corridor, made Hermione curious enough to get up and poke her head out of the door.

George held a finger to his lips, and pointed down- towards the kitchen.

His eyes looked frenzied.

"I think this is serious," Hermione muttered back to Ginny. "They wouldn't call us down for nothing. We should go and take a look."

Leading the way, Hermione walked down the stairs with her heart pounding each step. She didn't care everyone would see her in her nightie, including Ronald. She didn't care everyone would see Ginny in a similar state of undress, including Harry. All she could think about, was the safety of all their friends. Like a true Gryffindor, she wouldn't even have to think twice before jumping in to save them.

Behind her, Ginny gave a whimper.

Hermione stopped.

"I don't like this," she began to cry. "Something feels wrong. In here." She laid a hand over her busom.

Hermione nodded, and placed a comforting hand around Ginny's shoulder, drawing the younger girl in. Both of them supported each other, as Hermione reached out and briskly knocked the door three times.

It swung open to chaos.

Pink glitter exploded everywhere, as floating helium balloons popped whenever the door opened to a new arrival, showering them. In all the mayhem, a gigantic chocolate/marshmallow fountain sprung from the centre of the room, snaking rivers of chocolate around the room in supported bridges. Music gyrated from the radio. Women of all shapes and sizes were dancing around each other, and even rubbing up next to carboard cutouts of Harry Potter. Occasionally the cutout would yell, "Expelliarmus!" and all the women would pretend to be disarmed of their knickers. This seemed to cause much hilarity, and peals of laughter.

Hermione's mouth fell open.

Never in her wildest imagination...

"OI! THAT'S MY HUSBAND!" Hermione was even more surprised to find herself on the floor next second. She looked up from where she fell, to only see Ginny standing there, looking like she'd just swallowed a jar of wasps and hands on hips. The drunk women giggled an oops, and pulled the knickers around their ankles back up. They then congregated together, and warbled a "SURPRISE!" just as Molly appeared through the throng.

"Ginny, dahling," she kissed her daughter on both cheeks. "Congragulations. And welcome to your hen-party! This is all for you."

You would never have seen a frown, turn upside down so fast. It was like her mini-freakout never happened.

"All for me? Oh, mum. You're the best!"

Both women fell into each others arms sobbing, leaving Hermione severely bemused and a little jilted. Why had Molly kept her in the dark about this rendezvous? Did she seriously not trust her future daughter-in-law enough? The next hour she wandered around, dipping marshmallow into chocolate here, and rubbing shoulders with the rich and famous there. But this was never really her scene, and it didn't change the fact she had to get up in about...four hours? Finally calling it a night, Hermione wobbled out of the kitchen not expecting to be accousted by the man of the moment.

Shockingly, it wasn't even about Ginny.

No. It was about the seating placements.

Joy.

"Hermione," Harry said seriously, grabbing her by the elbow. "You need to add another seat on our table."

"But you can't!" Hermione was scandalized. She started ticking off her fingers. "The main table is really important and all the seats have been allocated. There's you, the groom, and the bride- Ginny. Then there's the best man (Ronald) and all your bridesmaids (Me, Luna and Parvati). Then the bride's father and mother. That's eight already and you want to add one more?"

"Yes."

The steely way he said that, made Hermione think he wouldn't be swayed by her arguments. This extra person he was including, clearly meant a great deal to him. But who was it? Hermione's curiosity was coming out to play, and she tried to get her answer in the most subtle way possible.

"Okay," she sighed. "What name should I put down on the placard?"

"Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."

Whatever answer Hermione was expecting, it clearly wasn't that. She half-choked on her spittle, as she snapped up her head to stare Harry in the eye. The man continued staring at her, as if daring to defy him.

"Are you mad? Clinically insane? Draco Malfoy's in Azkaban. As much as he'd love to make your wedding, it's not going to happen."

"Yes it is."

"..."

"I managed to finalize the papers today, as his guardian. His mother would really be happy to see her son walk free."

Hermione wanted to blurt out that Draco Malfoy deserved exactly what he got. The boy hadn't been totally blame-free, when he let a dozen deatheaters invade Hogwarts on the night Dumbledore died. And the years before that, didn't reflect well on Malfoy either when he was smirking half the time. Yet, here Harry was, reminicing about the past with a glimmer of fondness in his eye. He even attended Narcissa's funeral last year, and was one of the last to leave her graveside.

He did all the things a son should have done.

And now he wanted to save that bastard.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Hermione began to shake her head. "To bring him to the wedding, I mean. He'll scare all the guests, for goodness sake. And all the parents would be wary about letting their children near such a dangerous individual. Not to mention, he's been imprisoned for five years? Without any human contact? To suddenly thrust him from obscurity, into loud, raccous fun...I don't think it would do him any good. He needs to acclimatise. Slowly but surely."

"I have to disagree."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up. Of course he did.

"This would do him a world of good. And as the groom, don't I have any say in this?" he wheedled.

"You do," she relented.

"So can I?"

"I suppose."

"YES!"

Hermione squeaked in surprise, when Harry punched the air and drew her into a half-hug. She allowed herself to relax in his arms, before he quickly released her and disapparated from the spot. The extra hand that had been added on the Weasley's clock (labelled "Harry Potter") went from home, to travelling. A second later, the hand spun to work and Hermione gave a wry grin, shaking her head.

The groom was late.

So she wasn't panicking. Okay, that was a lie.

Maybe a little?

But despite however much she worried inside, on the face of it she retained a positive, upbeat attitude and helped people to their seats. Occasionally Ronald would catch her eyes, and quickly dart his to the side, as if he wanted to get her somewhere private. When this didn't work, he would point and mouth "Outside." Hermione ignored all his signalling, and continued rushing around like a mad-woman. There was so many things she had to do, it was kind of a relief the wedding hadn't started yet.

The caterers had owled yesterday, saying they couldn't make it. Apparently the hype of Harry Potter's wedding was too much to bear, especially since they were second rate and hated scrutiny.

Luckily the house-elves were more than happy, to step in and help.

Anything for Harry Potter.

Then Parvati had turned up from a holiday in France, looking notibly...heavier. The poor girl had taken to french cuisine, like a duck to water, and visited several patissiere's and restaurants during her stay. She walked away with a lot of baguettes, and cheese and wine, let me tell you. The only downside was that now she couldn't fit into the dress tailor-made for her, and Hermione had to use her wand (and initiative) to redo the seams.

And then the seating placements! That toyed with her for a while. Who should she seat Draco Malfoy with?

Ron was out of the question, and so was Arthur and Molly. Harry and Ginny had to be seated next to each other obviously. So that left either inbetween Hermione and Luna, or Parvati and...no-one. Taking a leap of faith, Hermione wrote Draco's name beside hers. Although he wouldn't be delighted to be seated next to a mudblood, she was the only one besides Harry who knew he was going to be there. Therefore the only one pysched enough to make him comfortable as possible.

And she would do whatever it took. Pouring him glasses of champagne. Dipping cavier into sauce, as she offered entertaining anecdotes.

Harry would be proud of her.

And he was also very very late.

Urging the guests to remain seated, Hermione hoofed it to the hotel entrance and peered both ways.

"Come on, come on," she muttered, as a vehicle turned around the corner. She nearly punched the air in success, until she realised it wasn't the groom's car meandering down the road, but rather his father-in-law's. Which meant Ginny was in that car.

Crap.

"It's okay," Hermione reassured the bride when she finally stepped out, a vision in white. Arthur got out after her, looking chuffed that he was able to drive his daughter to the venue. "You're just a little earlier than expected. Why don't you take another drive around the block?"

"NO!" Ginny cleared her throat. "I mean, no thanks. My stomach's all jittery, and I feel really really nervous but happy at the same time. If I let my dad drive me again, I'll be sick all over this lovely dress."

Hermione wouldn't put that past her. Just because Arthur loved all things muggle, didn't mean his enthusiasm reflected his driving.

"Fair enough," she acknowledged, pointing to a small room opposite to where the guests were waiting. "Stay there, until I come to get you. And Ginny?" The red-head looked up. "For what's it worth, you look stunning. Simply devine."

She finished it off with a big grin.

But inside she wasn't feeling it. As she watched her friend, gracefully struggle up the steps into the hotel, the smile on her face dropped as she anxiously thought of Harry again. If Harry was here, he wouldn't hesistate to swoop up his wife and ravish her to high heavens. The idea of his favourite smartass, dressed head to toe in virtuous white would be all it took, for him to sink to his knees and groan in anticipation. He wouldn't be able to resist her.

So where the hell was he?

A pop answered that.

Hermione spun on her heels, to catch a glimpse of Harry dripping in sweat liked he'd run a marathon. His clothes were in shambles. His two piece suit, ripped and torn in places, as he shrugged on the tux that would complete the look. This was the first time Hermione had seen Harry in over 24 hours, so understandably she was brimming with questions. But she was smart enough, to realize now wouldn't be a good time.

"Am I late?"

"Yes!" she hissed, jerking her hand furiously towards the hotel. Multiple times. "We're all waiting on you! Get in!"

"I left Malfoy in the woods. Is that okay?"

"Are you insane?"

"Is that okay?" he steadfastedly repeated.

"More than okay," Hermione said sarcastically, a little peeved she would have to miss the nuptials. But he was clearly begging her to go out and retrieve him, and Hermione didn't have the heart to refuse. Harry moved, as if to rush past, and Hermione stopped him with one little word.

Or rather, spell.

(Hot Air Charm)

Malfoy landed with a thud, as Potter apparated into a particular clearing, and let him go as soon as his feet hit the ground. Harry glanced down, half-expecting the blond to be snarling up at him, but his facial expression remained vacant and uninterested as ever.

"What the hell was that?" Harry gasped, eyes darting around.

The next second he turned on the spot, and was gone, leaving Draco still laid out in the position he landed in. After a few minutes, Draco turned to his side and curled up into himself, hating the way the sun bounced of things and reflected into his eyes.

Too bright.

He didn't want to be here.

Birds called to each other from deciduous branches, and the song was making him nauseous. If they wanted to sing about something, sing about him. Sing prettily about how he would climb up those trees silent as a mouse, and deadly as a panther. Hit a high soprano, as his hands lashed out and captured the adults in a pulverising manner and make them watch, as he cracked a hole into their eggs, and sucked out their babies in one loooooong slurp. And the beautiful symphony would end with a semi-quaver...as he tightend his paws, and the birds exploded in a mess of pulp and guts.

The blood that covered his hands...

Would so be worth it!

For the first time in years, a bubble of pleasure surfaced in his heart. Normally, he would've quenched this with iron resolve in fear that something lurking in the darkness would come out and feed on it.

A/N: This is only the first half of chapter one. I've stumbled onto writer's block. I don't want to continue, if nobody wants me too.