Hey! It's florairmatylee, deciding to post another chapter for my amazing readers. Even if you don't leave me a review or anything, please just know what I love you all. In the most un-creepy way possible. Ahem. So, to those who celebrate, I hope your Christmas was wonderful. And any help on how to write the actions of the beloved Harry Potter characters would be much appreciated. Because I still feel so out of practice writing them all. And while it all seems to be going a bit slowly at this point, it shall have a plot. I promise that. And I've gotten a review talking about how a Draco hypnotizing Hermione would make a more interesting read than what I'm writing out- well, it's not that interesting now, but maybe if I develop the plot a bit out more, it might hopefully one day, be interesting to read-?

"We are going to be late for the service, Lucius!" Queen Narcissa Malfoy snapped, seeing as her husband lazily wrapped his tie around his neck.

"I had no idea you were so devoted to this Mudblood family," Lucius snarled. "It seems as if you value their time more than mine."

"That would never be true, Lucius, but when you take up enough time as it is-" Narcissa fidgeted around the room, grabbing her purse. "Where is Draco? Draco!"

"Mother, I'm waiting for you and father," Draco ambled into the room with a sly smile.

"Draco, dear, get the carriage ready for us, please. Your father refuses to get a move on, and I do not want to miss the vows!" Narcissa grabbed her shawl and scowled at the man she'd married. Lucius frowned but finished fixing his clothing up.

"Vows, vows. Were you this eager to get to the vows when we were getting married?" he muttered.

"Lucius, please," Narcissa said in exasperation. "This will be good for Draco. He could find some fairly nice young woman at this event, maybe even get married himself soon."

"There's nobody with pure blood anymore," Lucius frowned. "Why can't he get married to that Pansy girl? She's nice, isn't she? And she's Pureblood."

"She's also an intolerable young lady who's been stained," Narcissa sniffed, "Don't think the word hasn't gotten around. No, that's not who I want my Draco associating with. How about that Ravenclaw princess? What's her name, er, Cho Chang?"

"Preposterous," Lucius insisted. "She's gotten together with practically every noble or prince that's gone to her kingdom."

"Honestly, Lucius, you're don't even know what you're smattering on about," Narcissa huffed. "She's not a bad choice, for your-"

"Mother, Father, the carriage has been waiting," Draco called up before they could argue any further.

"I will see that my son finds himself a suitable young woman," Narcissa said firmly.

"With my help, of course," Lucius snapped. "Honestly, Narcissa, one day He will return to power and take down their so-called chosen one. And will you plan a wedding through this?"

Before Narcissa could answer, Draco's voice rose up again.

"Mother, the carriage!"

Lucius left their room to get to the carriage at last, but Narcissa couldn't take what Lucius had said out of her head as she slowly followed her family.

"You look stunning," Ginny said, straightening the white veil on Hermione's head one last time. She stepped back, letting Hermione see herself in the full-length mirror. Queen Monica walked up behind her daughter, tears in her eyes.

"Oh, Hermione," she sniffed, squeezing her daughter's shoulder. "I always dreamed of the day you'd get married-"

Hermione stepped away from her mother, taking in her reflection as if for the first time. Ivory and strapless, lace fluttered from her waist all the way down to the floor. Her hair had been placed strategically up, pinned by her crown and the veil.

"Are we going to be late?" Hermione asked. She had tried not to dwell on the fact that she was getting married. Married. To Harry Potter. Glad as she was that he wasn't an arse, that didn't make him exactly a dreamboat either.

"No, we should be just in time," Monica sighed contentedly. "Hermione, the carriage is ready already."

"I suppose I should just buck up," Hermione lowered her chin. "I do want to marry him- I mean, I suppose I do."

"You'll be wonderful," Ginny offered her words of parting. It had been a few weeks since Harry and Hermione had met, and in that time, Ginny and Hermione's friendship was slowly flourishing.

"Thank you, Ginny," Hermione smiled weakly. "You'll be there, of course?"

"She is going," Monica assured Hermione. "Now, go on, my bride. You'll have to hurry or Harry will think we've forgotten about him."

"Couldn't have that, could we?" Hermione forced a smile. Monica laid a warm hand on her daughter's back, tracing circles soothingly.

"What you're doing is wonderful," Monica whispered to her as the two of them walked down the grand staircase.

"I know," Hermione mumbled back.

"The bouquet!" an older maid rushed out with a bundle of fresh lilies.

"Thank you, Molly," Monica said, taking the bouquet from the maid and handing it to her daughter. "Let's get a move on. The horses can get very restless sometimes."

Hermione had no choice but to go through with her wedding.

"Do you, Harry Potter, take Hermione Granger to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, through richer or poorer, for better or worse, till death do you part?" the elderly priest squinted down at the book he held, waiting.

"I do," Harry said solemnly. Hermione let her eyes wander to her soon-to-be husband. He looked quite ravishing in a tux, she had to admit.

"And do you, Hermione Granger, take Harry Potter to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, through richer or poorer, for better or worse, till death do you part?"

It would be so easy to refuse. To say no. To stomp out of the church and tear the tight crown off of her head. But did she do any of that? Of course not. She was Hermione Granger.

"I do," Hermione said.

"Then by the powers vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride," the priest said, closing the bible and smiling at the two young adults before him.

Harry made the first move. His hands secured around Hermione's waist, and he pressed his lips to hers gently. Hermione let her own hands rest on his forearms and kissed him back.

The crowd gathered to witness their vows erupted in cheers and claps, most standing on their feet. Harry pulled away first, and gave Hermione an apologetic smile. Hermione grinned back and grabbed his hand, pulling him down the aisle and after her to the doors, the people rejoicing after them.

"That was fun," Harry joked, Hermione's fingers curling around his.

"It's not over yet," Hermione laughed, as their invited guests poured out of the church after them.

"Congratulations to the married couple," Dumbledore arrived to congratulate them before anyone else could, bowing before them.

"Dumbledore," Harry said, obviously embarrassed. Hermione could see that even if they weren't blood related, Harry obviously cared for Dumbledore. This realization made the smile on her face grow.

"Now, Harry, you've just gotten married to a beautiful young woman," Dumbledore said fondly. "I suppose we ought to discuss living area. It is to my knowledge that the queen and king shall retire to the countryside now that Hermione has settled."

The news sent a pang through Hermione's stomach, and her grip on Harry's hand intensified. She was going to become a queen soon. Queen Hermione. The thought terrified her.

"And I will be retiring myself, to a beautiful mountain village," Dumbledore smiled at his own happy thoughts. "Therefore, my castle shall be turned into an orphanage, and you and Hermione will live in the Granger household."

"That shouldn't be a problem," Harry said.

"Yes, but you know the keeper of my horses, Hagrid, would be without a home if this happened," Dumbledore said. "The lad's quite close to me, Harry. Surely you won't mind if he moves in with you two?"

"Of course not, he's more than welcome," Hermione said happily.

"You've got the kind heart of a Gryffindor," Dumbledore clasped Hermione's hand in his own. "Both of you. Now, I'll let your other guests talk to you two." He left the two of them, and the newly married couple were instantly bombarded by their other guests.

"Congratulations," a nobleman Hermione vaguely recognized from Ravenclaw told them. Following him was a young woman around Hermione's age, who smiled brightly at them.

More people moved around them, always saying the same thing, and wishing them all the best on their special day.

Hermione was very surprised when the Malfoys walked up to them, however. They didn't strike her as the celebratory types.

"Hermione," Narcissa gave the bride a stiff hug before pulling back. "You look so lovely. And this must be Harry Potter." She looked towards the groom. Harry took her hand and kissed it respectfully.

"Your Highness," he said simply. From behind her, Draco and Lucius hung back.

"Lucius," Narcissa snapped. Her husband sighed but kissed Hermione's hand, and shook Harry's.

"Such a wonderful day to have a wedding," Lucius kept his grip on Harry's hand, never taking his eyes off of him. "Isn't it?"

"I believe so, sir," Harry said, her voice hardening. "I'm delighted that you're attending. You'll be at the reception, I presume?"

"We won't miss it," Lucius said icily, glaring at Harry unbecomingly.

"Draco, say hello," Narcissa moved onto her son, staring him down.

"Hello, Potter," Draco said sharply, and shook his hand quickly. He then made a show of wiping his hand on his trousers.

"Malfoy," Potter growled in response, wiping his own hand.

"Granger," Draco let his eyes travel to the bride. Hermione eyed him as Draco took her hand, slowly kissed it, and let it fall.

"Draco," Hermione called him by his first name bitterly, and took a step back from him. Draco gave her a blank look and did the same.

"We'll see you two later, at the reception," Narcissa patted Hermione's shoulder before ushering her family away.

Hermione couldn't help herself, she glared after them. The Malfoys were absolute horrors. Not even Narcissa was kind enough for her liking, and she always made a tiny effort.

"Let's go," Harry said quietly. "I see they're bothering you. The reception will start soon anyway- I see Hagrid over there, he's driving us to the castle."

"They're not bothering me Harry," Hermione lied, but walked towards the carriage with him. "They're just being- Slytherins."

The Malfoys stood outside of ballroom in the Grangers castle, while Narcissa Malfoy instructed them on last minute behavioral issues.

"I want all of you to be on your best behavior, please," Narcissa told her family. "Lucius, please do not embarrass us. Draco, be civil to the Gryffindors, alright?"

"No promises," Draco walked towards the doors, smirking.

"I do not embarrass the Malfoy name!" Lucius said indignantly. Narcissa sighed, and followed her son through the double doors.

"King Lucius Malfoy, Queen Narcissa Malfoy, and Prince Draco Malfoy of Slytherin!" the stout man standing by the door announced their arrival.

Narcissa and Lucius had gone to sit at a table with their names written, but Draco decided to wander around the party. As he was turning, he almost crashed into a girl standing smack-dab in the middle of the floor, her eyes drifting up to the ceiling.

"Watch where you're standing!" Draco frowned at her. The girl, one with long blond hair, turned her silvery grey eyes onto Draco.

"Perhaps you ought to watch where you're walking," she said, but it wasn't a sentence said snappily, or even the least bit annoyed. She said it as if it were a kind suggestion, and tilted her head to look closer at Draco.

He recognized her. She was a noble's daughter, from Ravenclaw kingdom, a loony girl that people called Luna Lovegood.

"I don't make it my business to walk around other people- inferior to me," Draco sniffed, walking past her.

"Maybe you should," Luna said cheerfully, and kept standing there.

Stupid girl, Draco thought, frowning as he kept walking. His mother expected him to be civil? With any of these idiots? Highly unlikely. His wandering eyes laid themselves on the bride and groom, who were sitting next to each other and chatting away with flutes of champagne. Oh, this would be fun, he thought. Perhaps he could entertain himself by seeing how far he could push Harry Potter.

"Granger, Potter," Draco stood in front of them. "I see the two of you are enjoying your wedding night."

"Do you need something, Malfoy?" Harry's expression of laughter turned to one of loathing rather quickly as he examined the Slytherin Prince.

"I'm just fine, Potter, thank you for asking," Draco turned to Hermione. "I was just wondering if I could steal your bride for a second or two."

"Draco-" Hermione set her glass down, about to say something else, but Draco just helped her up before she could talk.

"Just for a dance, Potter, you act as if I'm trying to kill her," Draco said as he noticed Harry's foul expression.

Draco noted that Hermione was out of sorts. She blinked a lot, and didn't argue when Draco placed both of his hands on her waist.

"Draco?" Hermione questioned, holding onto his shoulders. Draco could smell the spirits on her breath, a clear indication she had been drinking too much.

"You're drunk, and you don't know what you're doing," Draco stated, as they moved from side to side. "How does your husband like that you've gotten intoxicated on your wedding night?"

"It's none of your business," Hermione snapped, but not as strongly as she usually would. Yes, it was obvious she had drunk over her limit.

"You're right, it's not," Draco said slowly, pulling Hermione closer to himself. "But if you were my wife, I wouldn't have you drinking. You see, then you do things you regret. Potter's sure daft if he can't realize how vulnerable you are-"

"You're an arse, Draco Malfoy," Hermione said angrily. Ah, there was the fire he knew and loved.

"Perhaps, but I'm not wasted," he said.

"I haven't drunk that much," Hermione said, but swayed more than she should, gripping onto the coat of Draco's suit.

"I think you ought to go to bed, Granger," Draco frowned. Hermione shook her head, the delicate lace veil she wore rippling like a wave.

"I am just fine, Malfoy, you cannot tell me what to do," Hermione said, her brown eyes piercing into Draco's grey ones and holding her stare.

"Very well, I won't," Draco stepped away from the bride, releasing her from his arms. Almost instantly, Hermione stumbled. Draco took her in his arms again.

"Take me to Harry, Draco, please," Hermione said quietly, resting her head on Draco's chest.

"He's rather busy at the moment," Draco's eyes flickered to Harry Potter, who was conversing with the same pretty redheaded maid he'd encountered outside of Hermione's bathroom.

"No. He needs to know where I am," Hermione whispered.

"And he will, Granger, he will," Draco said impatiently, and began to lead her out of the ballroom.

"No, he'll-"

"Shut up, Granger, doesn't your mouth do anything other than complain?" Draco hissed, shutting the doors after them. The hallway was empty, lucky for them, because their position did not look compromising. After all, Draco was clutching the bride to his chest and supporting her upright with his arms.

"We're in the hallway," Hermione stated obviously, struggling to stand on her own again.

"You're going to fall again, you dumb girl, just tell me where your bedchamber is so I can take you there," Draco snapped. Hermione shook her head devilishly, and a small, girlish giggle sprouted from her lips.

"I won't tell you," she said, closing her eyes with a smile. Wonderful. The very last thing Draco needed was Hermione falling asleep right then and there. Wasn't he just supposed to dance with her to annoy Potter? Why was he now holding her up when she was intoxicated?

Obviously he had to take her to her room. Even though he had been there before, it had always been with the help of a maid. He could not keep track of the winding staircases and long corridors. Draco glanced wildly around, and spotted a man walking past their hallway. By the white uniform he wore, he must work for the Grangers.

"You there!" Draco called out. The man stopped, seeing the bride was in the Slytherin prince's arms. "Yes, you. Come here." The man walked closer to them, until Draco could take in the sight of the man's tailored clothing and red hair.

"Prince Draco," the man said it like it was a statement, not a question. His eyes narrowed slightly. Oh, even better. Obnoxious help who was going to judge his motives.

"Take me to Granger's room," Draco said bluntly, as Hermione was still drooping in sleep.

"I'm afraid I can't do that," he said, looking at both of them suspiciously. "Only Princess Hermione- and her husband- ought to enter her private quarters."

"I am trying to do a noble thing here, and leave your precious princess in her own bed because she's drunk out of her mind," Draco gritted his teeth, quickly loosing his patience. "Do as I ask. I have no other intentions than to see her safe."

"You're a Slytherin," this butler was still wary. "None of you believe in safe."

"I only want to rid myself of her, got it?" Draco growled. "And if you'd rather carry this heavy woman to her room, be my guest!" He gave Hermione a shake, and the princess frowned in her slumber, still clinging onto Draco. The butler's eyes flickered to the princess and back to Draco's impatient facial expression.

"Very well," the butler said coolly. "But I shall see that you leave her safe and sound in her bed, and nothing more."

"Honestly, as if I'm doing something wrong," Draco huffed, but began to follow the man as the butler turned down the corner. There were stairs. Of course; Draco remembered that he'd traveled up stairs the last time he had paid Granger a visit. Yet he couldn't remember where her room was-

The butler paused at the foot of the stairs, seeing as Draco lifted Hermione up so that her head was cradled in his neck, and so that his arms were wrapped around her knees. Her annoying wedding dress, he thought. His hands were getting lost in all the lace.

Satisfied, the butler kept going up the winding staircase, and Draco followed carefully. Good God, the girl was heavy. Draco hated moving slowly, and glared at the butler as if it was his fault. The three of them had finally gotten up the seemingly thousands of stairs, and the butler turned down a hall before stopping in front of two large doors.

"Through here," the butler said, and pushed the door open for Draco. Draco walked in, still surveying the butler. Just as the man was about to follow Draco, a loud call stopped him.

"Ronald Weasley!" an older redheaded woman walked down the hallways towards him. "I needed you to fetch Ginevra from the ballroom ages ago!" She peered towards him curiously, and looked inside Hermione's room, where Draco was lying Hermione down on her covers.

"I'm sorry, mum," the butler, Ronald, said, stepping away from the door. "I'll go now."

"Yes, you do that, young man," the maid said crankily, and she and her son left.

Alone, Draco pushed Hermione's arms away from his neck. She mumbled something and laid on her back, her veil splaying itself around her.

"Aren't you the slightest bit uncomfortable, woman?" Draco frowned, seeing the crown she was currently pushing back into her pillow. "Here." Coaxing her, he turned her to her side and began to slide the crown off of her head. Ouch. He could see the red marks it left on her head. Draco quickly shook that thought away from his head. No, he wasn't about to feel sorry for the princess.

He pulled out a few jeweled hair pins, watching as her brown hair fanned over her pillows elegantly. Alright, so he couldn't feel sorry for her, but at least he could feel some scrap of remorse for girls. They had to wear these ridiculous novelties in order to look fancy.

"Daddy?" Hermione's quiet whisper stopped his actions. Draco looked down at her in horror as her pink lips formed a fond smile.

"I'm not your father, dimwit," Draco mumbled back, and yanked the veil out from under her. Hermione's eyebrows furrowed in her sleep.

Now that her hairstyle was gone, Draco picked up a random cover he found and tossed it over the princess haphazardly. Hermione smiled again, and clutched it to her chest.

"Stupid girl," Draco stepped away from the bed and watched her sleep. "You should know better than to drink. My father ought to hear about this." The last part was teasing, he knew, but Lucius Malfoy did love to point out every fault in peasants such like her.

Draco shook his head again, as if the cranial thrust could scramble these strange thoughts away. Hermione Granger, the princess of Gryffindor, was laid to bed by none other than Draco Malfoy, the Slytherin Prince.

If word got around by that nasty butler that he actually had some sort of respect for the girl, it wouldn't be good.