Chapter IV: The Wedding
The warm gleam of the sun filtered through Hermione's flimsy curtains, shining uncomfortably through Harry's skewed glasses. Harry blinked through the glare and the fuzz tickling his chin. Despite his pounding headache, he struggled to open his eyes to a mass of bushy, brown hair. His face went scarlet, for what he felt like was the hundredth time in two days, as he shoved aside the hair, hoping that it was not the person he feared it was. He groaned as he realized that the person lying, curled up in a ball underneath him was, indeed, Hermione. Hermione sniveled, struggled to roll over onto her side, elbowing Harry on the nose. Scrunching his face in pain, he rolled, as carefully as he could, off of Hermione, and shuffled towards her kitchenette.
He rifled through her few cookbooks for a home potions reference book, and quickly found a rather large one entitled "Forget About Stoves!" Harry blinked at the pure stupidity of the title. He shrugged, and quickly flipped through the index for remedies for hangovers. He flipped to the easiest looking remedy, and was relieved to find that he needed very few ingredients. Within five minutes, he had a coffee pot boiling with the remedy.
Hermione groaned and sat up, scratching her armpit. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, and began walking to her room. She scrambled around in her dazed, awakening memory why she had been sleeping on the couch. As she began stripping off her dress, she wondered why she had been sleeping on it in the first place. She heard a grunt from across the room. She froze, and turned her head reluctantly towards the noise, and found herself being gawked at by an astonished Harry. Blushing, she quickly dropped her dress, and she was instantly wide awake when the memories of the previous night filled her head. In an attempt to make the situation less awkward, she spotted the pot and squealed, "what's that?" Harry cleared his throat, and responded, unable to keep his voice from cracking, "hangover remedy."
"…oh…" Hermione said quietly, and shuffled into her bed room. She groaned angrily as she threw on her cow-print pants, and S.P.E.W. sweatshirt.
"Get some 'a this, 'Mione. It works!" Harry called. Hermione, resisting the temptation to tell Harry 'of course it worked-it's magic,' timidly shuffled into her kitchenette, and squeaked "I wasn't drunk last night, remember?"
"…oh yeah…"
An awkward silence continued between them where Harry's eyes frequently dashed from her counter, the pot, and Hermione. After Harry had made his twentieth trip around the room, Hermione finally snapped "what?"
"Nothing!" Harry replied, hastily "It's just…"
"If it's about last night, it was nothing," she coldly replied. "I remember. We kissed, and you fell asleep in the middle of you sticking your tongue down my throat. I remained in a very firm grip in your arms underneath you. That's why I didn't leave-I was stuck." She leaned against the counter next to Harry.
"Well…first of all, I don't want you to think I'm an alcoholic. Second of all…it wasn't 'nothing'…was it?" For the first time, Hermione stared Harry in the eye, and was unable to control herself.
"Oh…heavens, yes!"
"Well…you sure were pretty last night…"
"Thank you," Hermione said, covering her mouth to hide her growing grin.
"Ha-ha, made you sm-" but he was unable to complete his sentence for Hermione smashed her lips into his. Hermione reached around his neck, drawing him closer. Just as Harry backed her into the stove, knocking the cauldron of "Happy Hangover Tonic" over so it splattered to the floor, a loud, female voice called from Hermione's entrance. They ignored the intrusion, however, even when the woman was able to clearly see the growing intensity of their embrace.
"Oi! Who's this, 'My-my?" the woman shouted into Hermione's ear. Hermione broke the embrace, and snapped her head in her direction, and they leapt apart.
"Penny?" Hermione gasped, catching her breath. The woman flapped her hands in excitement, squealing as she dashed forward to squeeze Hermione in a tight embrace. Hermione returned the embrace in frustration. When they pulled apart, Hermione couldn't help but ask "what are you doing, here?"
"Well don't you remember, Hermione? My wedding is in one week! Knowing you, I came here to remind you that you need to get something to wear to it!"
Realization dawned upon Hermione's face as she remembered she had completely forgotten about that particular chore. She knew she hated shopping…but this was ridiculous! She found out about this two weeks ago!
"Er…I have a dress," Hermione said awkwardly. Penny gaped at her, but a smile spread across her face when she spied Harry awkwardly cleaning the spilled potion.
"Who's he?" Hermione snapped her head to see who Penny was staring at. The blood drained from her face. Harry immediately knew she would be unable to answer, so he decided to speak for her.
"I'm just a friend. I got evicted from my apartment so…here I am," he said as calmly as possible. Penny rolled her eyes.
"What's your name?" Penny asked, slyly.
"Harry Potter," Penny seemed to recognize his name. "Oh, yes! Hermione's told me all about you, Henry. I think she's the hots for you. You should watch out…although, I'm sure you've found that out, already," Penny winked. Harry blushed.
"Well, let me show you my dress," Hermione said in a mock cheerful voice.
"Wait, 'My-my. Aren't you going to tell him who I am?" Penny asked. Hermione turned to her with a pained expression on her face.
"Harry, this is Penelope Telemachus-soon to be Penelope McGuire. She's the daughter of my mother's sister and brother-in-law," Hermione finished quickly.
"You can call me Cousin Penny, though," Penny added, prissily.
"Okay, do you want to see my dress?" Hermione said in attempt to change the subject. Without waiting for a response, she bustled into her room, and soon returned with the dress she woke up in. Penny gawked at it.
"You think you're going to wear that to my wedding? It looks like you'd be ready to go clubbing and get laid!" She turned to Harry. "But maybe you already have. Besides, you wore that to the engagement party, remember? How long've you had that dress?"
The color quickly returned to Hermione's face. "Er…a year and a half…"
"I thought it looked a little out of fashion," she said as she pulled out a billfold from her purse. "Your mum and dad agreed with me, and they decided to lend you money to go buy something more…appropriate, since you don't really…live like normal people do," she said as she handed Hermione a small pile of bills. Hermione leafed through the money, counting it. When she finished, shock came upon her face.
"Three thousand pounds?! Where on earth would I spend this kind of money?"
"Oh, there are plenty of places, Hermione. I went ahead and did some research for you. There are some lovely dresses at Gucci. Go there," Penny finished.
A look of dread came over Hermione's face. "Shopping?!" she squeaked. Harry sighed miserably, and sat down, knowing he had no part in this conversation. Penny looked sideways at Harry, her brown eyes narrowing mischievously. "Oh, one small detail…have you a date for the reception yet?"
---
"Honestly! This is absolutely absurd!" Hermione stormed down the street in a huff, her frizzy hair bouncing with each stomp. Harry trotted behind her, short of breath.
"Well it's not so bad… Look on the bright side-"
"Don't make me hurt you!"
"…Fine."
They continued in silence until they reached Oxford Street. Harry was panting heavily as they entered Gucci, gripping the doorframe as they went in for support. Hermione stopped within two steps glancing hopelessly around the store. So many strange looking contraptions… "These can't possibly be dresses-"
"As a matter of fact, they are!" A tall, thin, blonde man in a disturbingly purple suit popped out of a rack of dresses, the taffeta and tulle rustling. He looked very familiar, and for reasons Harry and Hermione couldn't quite identify, they automatically hated him. "…You don't do much shopping, do you?" The blonde man gazed down his aristocratic nose at Hermione witheringly. Hermione huffed. Harry came forward.
"Er… well, not really. You see, we're trying to find her a nice dress to wear to her cousin's wedding and were told to go here." He pushed his hair out of his eyes and away from his forehead. The blonde man was silent, staring at Harry. Harry waited a minute. "Okay, it's not THAT big of a deal-"
"Well, Potty, to a mudblood and her lover, perhaps not. But to someone of my couture status and magnitude, it is. Where's Weasel? Did you dump him, Granger? Or perhaps you did, Potty," the man said lazily. Harry and Hermione's jaws dropped at the same instant. Draco? In Gucci?! "I suppose, seeing as I work here and am paid on commission, I will help you." At that, he turned on his slightly too high heel and strutted to a different rack of dresses, pushing through them and tossing them aside like potato sacks. "Too… green." Hermione and Harry could only stand and watch in horror as Draco produced the most hideous purple and vomit-colored ball gown, complete with black lacey trim and pink buttons. "Hm. I don't much like buttons." He tossed it aside and went back to the pile of dresses.
"Er… don't you need to know her… size… or anything?" Draco gazed at him with an expression of mild irritation.
"Well, Potty? You should know it," he snapped. Harry fumbled for a response.
"Er, well, eh…. " He laughed nervously, looking at Hermione.
"Well…you should know…Pansy's…dress…size," Hermione finished hopelessly. She never had a chance against Draco's snappy snide comments.
"Well, perhaps if I were still with her, I would," Draco finished lackadaisically. Hermione turned beet red.
"Oh…sorry…" Hermione muttered.
"It's okay. I'm gay. I don't care," He said haughtily, turning back to the dresses with a hand on his hip. Harry made a small froglike noise.
"G-gay." Draco nodded in his direction and pulled out what Harry could only describe as a "frilly pink thing."
"Try this. Now." He presented the dress to Hermione delicately. "And be careful. You are wearing art." He shoved her towards a dressing room that was bigger than Hermione's whole apartment. Harry thought he could hear Hermione muttering something about the impracticality of white décor. As soon as she disappeared, Draco turned to Harry, a new expression on his face. Was it… one of… desire!? Harry leaned back, knocking over a shoe display. "Oh! Sorry! I didn't-"
"It's fine… they pay me to clean shoes up. Too bad they don't pay me to do something else…" He leaned forward, placing a feminine hand on Harry's hip. Harry could only gawk and pray that Hermione would be done with that horrible birthday cake of a dress soon. Draco grinned suggestively, and leaned back, pulling his hand away. He moved behind the frozen Harry, picking up the shoes. When he got back up, he smacked Harry's rear playfully. "Hot derriere-hard as a rock. Just how I like them." He strutted back to the dressing rooms where Hermione's distress had become audible.
"Stupid zippers!" She hissed, attempting to reach back. Draco flung open the door and turned her around, zipping her dress up in one fluid movement. Hermione reddened. Draco turned her around again to face him. He stepped back, crossing his arms. "Well, we'll leave it to Harry to decide," he said as he stepped aside. Harry's eyes widened at the sight the hideous dress of rosettes and bows upon the Pepto-Bismol pink bodice (which made her look twenty pounds heavier), and grimaced as it reminded him of the toad-like Dolores J. Umbridge, who, if thin enough, would've loved this dress.
Hermione didn't seem to notice his grimace, and waited for a verbal response. "Well? How is it?" Before Harry could think of a polite response, Draco interrupted.
"Can't you see that it's putting him in obvious pain, you twit? Although, I must say, it's very hot," he finished leaving an awkward silence between them.
"Er…anyway," Draco lifted up a second dress. "Here. This piece." Hermione reluctantly grabbed the dress, and skulked into her dressing room. The minute the click of the lock echoed in the dressing area, Draco gave Harry the eye that Harry remembered observing over the years from other girls.
A few uncomfortable minutes later, Hermione stepped awkwardly out of the dressing room with a strapless, lavender ankle length gown. Harry's jaw dropped.
"Remember fourth year, Potter? You had the exact same reaction; Mudblood and Potty-I always thought it was a better match than Mudblood and Weasel…or Potty and Weasel," Draco finished with a self satisfactory chuckle. "Anyway, I take it that Harry approves. But, because it's fall, you should have a shawl. I think a simple shawl to match your dress would be nice. Nothing special on it, because yours is very plain-" Draco glanced around the shop to make sure no one was looking, snapped his fingers, and instantly, a lavender shawl appeared wrapped around Hermione.
"…Well… er…ah…" All Harry could do was stand there and fumble for words at the sight of Hermione. "…I suppose it'll do." He finally admitted, his face very bright red. Draco smirked triumphantly. A question suddenly popped into Harry's mind.
"Draco, are you seriously working here…you know, for fun?"
"No work is fun, Harry. But no. I work as a spy on muggles-make sure they, or wizards, don't do anything stupid to interfere with natural wizard life. And, no, it's not the same as Papa Weasel's work-he studies stupid muggle contraptions. My work is much more important. It's a form of aurorship, if you must know, Potty. And, since muggle fashion is relatively good, I, and my boss, decided to spy here. Oxford Street is relatively bustling with wizards-they're just in disguise. Everyone loves Gucci. It's also my form of payment to you all."
Harry stared at him blankly.
"Fascinating!" Hermione squealed. Harry reeled on Hermione in horror. "Why don't we go somewhere to discuss this, sometime? Perhaps I could somehow work this in to S.P.E.W.! I have it! Since muggles need protection from wizards-elves do too!" Harry clapped a hand to her mouth before she could ramble any further. But what shocked Harry even more was Draco's response.
"Sure. Whatev. I suppose you'll come, too, Potty? Seeing as I wouldn't want to go on a date with a mudblood…or a girl for that matter." Harry scowled and nodded.
"I guess. She might as well have protection."
Draco smirked, and said lazily, "so now you're up to bat, then, Potter?"
---
"MIONE!!!!" There was a loud crash and then a bang, followed by a lengthy string of expletives. Hermione rolled her eyes, sighed, and put down her book. The week leading up to the rehearsal dinner passed relatively smoothly, and quickly. Harry and Hermione barely saw one another, they were so busy with work. Though they were able to get home from work early on Friday evening, and prepare themselves for the evening's activities.
"You know… if you didn't know how to tie a tie, you could've mentioned it."
She entered the bathroom and leaned against the doorframe, eyebrows raised, arms folded across her chest. She couldn't help but smile at Harry's red face. "Oh, you. Come here." She snapped. He hung his head in shame and shoved his tie into her hand. "…Broomsticks? Really, Harry…" She shook her head and tucked her newly smoothed hair behind her ear. Harry tugged the piece of hair back out. Hermione looked up and glared.
---
Hermione lay in her bed that night, staring at the patterns the lights from the street outside made on the ceiling. The rehearsal dinner had gone by without incident (thank God). But in the back of Hermione's mind, the upcoming wedding had planted a seed in her brain: When would she get married? Would she? It was strange to think that one day, she could possibly have a wedding…or possibly not. She scowled at the ceiling as a car alarm went off. After it was finished, there was silence, and Hermione drifted into sleep.
---
It seemed she had barely slept at all when she felt herself bouncing up and down on the bed. For a moment, she had a flash back to when she saw The Exorcist, and became terrified that she was being possessed. But she soon realized that there was indeed a person bouncing on her bed when the person tripped, squealed, and collapsed upon her. Hermione scowled, opening her eyes to the broad, happy face of Penelope.
"OOOMPAAAAA!!!! Today's the big day, My-my!" she squealed in happiness, as she found her balance, and started bouncing up and down again. Hermione groaned.
"What time is it, Penny?" Hermione drawled, grabbing her alarm clock. Before she could even read it, Penny cried "10:30 am!" Hermione was instantly awake, and burst into her living room. She then leapt upon her couch, bouncing upon Harry. He gave a painful yelp, and shrieked a line of curse words in between asking her what she was doing to him.
"It's 10:30, Harry! The wedding starts in an hour, and it'll take at least half an hour to get there!"
"Can't we apparate?" Harry groaned.
"No, you twit! This is a muggle wedding! Up!" Hermione snapped, yanking Harry up, shoving him into her bathroom. Hermione sighed.
"Why is it so early?" he groaned even louder.
"Because, it's Eastern Orthodox! The wedding services are very long!"
"Fifteen minutes for each of you to get ready? Not enough!" Penny sang, walking out of Hermione's room.
"Wh…what are you saying, dear cousin?" Hermione growled, irritation in every syllable.
"I'm saying, My-my, that you should take advantage of your limited time as best as possible, and use the bathroom at the same time!" Penny squabbled shoving Hermione into a half naked Harry. "GAH!" Harry and Hermione squawked in unison as they smacked into each other and then backed away. "NO!" They shouted simultaneously at Penelope, but she was already leaving out the door. Just before she closed it, she poked her head back in.
"Have fun, kids!" And then she slammed the door, leaving a bare-chested Harry and a grumbling Hermione. After a pause, Harry glanced at Hermione. "…Well… she DOES have a point." He offered, checking the clock again.
"A hat might cover it up." She snapped, yanking her nuclear explosion of hair out of its hair-tie. "But, you know what, FINE." She pushed her way into the shower, knocking Harry over like a bowling pin. He chuckled as he heard her screech: "HOW DARE YOU FLUSH THE TOILET?!"
"Okay, sorry." He brushed his teeth and began to attack his disastrous hair. As he yanked an already broken comb through a particularly tough snag, a strange thought popped into his head. If he had such crazy hair, and Hermione had such crazy hair… what would their kids look like? He glanced over at the shower curtain and shook his head. All this wedding crap was getting to him. He needed to refocus, get more into Auror training… Then his head would be put back on right again. But… that didn't mean he couldn't think about what was behind that misted over shower door… right?
---
"I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride!" Hermione unsuccessfully tried to wipe away tears as she watched Penelope and her new husband kiss. Harry rolled his eyes. "Longest damned ceremony ever." He grumbled next to her, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his jacket. Hermione batted at his arm, still trying to wipe away tears.
"Remember? Greek Orthodox ceremonies are always long, you pigglesnort!" She hissed. Harry snorted in response, earning a few glares. He turned back to face the front, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. Hermione sighed.
"What are you up to, now?" She whispered as everyone stood up to watch Penelope and her husband walk down the aisle. They hastily stood up, Hermione now in front of Harry, watching the happy couple depart-until a loud squawk filled the church, causing the organ to stop, and everyone to turn around.
"Hi, everyone…" Harry said awkwardly. Hermione grumbled, covering her bottom with her hands. She turned hastily around to face Harry.
"Do that again and I will castrate you with… I don't know what! But it will be painful! And bloody!" Hermione whispered stupidly. She glared once more and turned back around, and the organ resumed playing and everyone else turned back around with her. Hermione could feel her face turning even hotter as she heard Harry chuckling behind her. She felt his breath tickling her ear and her skin tingled.
"At least I have a sense of humor."
No sooner had everyone turned around that the organ finished and the happy wedded couple was gone. Everyone was filing out. Hermione and Harry left their pew to leave.
---
Hermione's hands started to numb as she gulped down another frothy beverage consisting of what she didn't know what. All she knew was that it was delicious, and free (because it was what was being catered). Along with that, she grabbed shots of clear liquid that tasted like cough syrup, unable to taste the difference between the two beverages. She finished, and searched around the room, quickly spotting a tall man with messy black hair dancing awkwardly with Hermione and Penelope's grandmother. She grinned, dazed, and shouted: "'ARRY!" She stumbled in his direction, and slapped a hand on his back.
"Youshe a goo' dansher," she chuckled. She stood back, flailing her arms out welcomingly. "Sho, tha' means, mishter, tha' you needs ta dance-" she pointed at herself somewhere along her body-"wif me! Hah, yes!" She collapsed into his arms as he let go of her grandmother.
"Oh, right. Okay…you really don't drink that often, do you?" Harry stuttered, self-conscious under the watchful eye of Hermione's rather conservative grandmother, and shocked that such a little amount of alcohol (to him) could inebriate her so greatly. They stumbled around the dance floor, until Harry successfully dragged her into the girls' bathroom, and into one of the stalls. Harry wanted to be safe, and take her out of the public eye. Hermione was laughing like a hyena, while Harry burned with embarrassment. He was very glad that he decided to remain completely sober; he did not want to have both of them mentally impaired due to the party.
"Fun-fun!" Hermione squealed.
"Yeah," Harry peeped, sitting down on the toilet under the pressure of Hermione's weight. Hermione commenced to sit on his lap. Harry's face burned even more due to the situation at hand. Then, for some odd reason, he remembered that unhelpful trick he'd been told for handling nervous energy: just imagine the other people in their underwear.
"Great." He mumbled, but thankfully, Hermione didn't notice. She was too busy cackling. Suddenly the already cramped space seemed even tighter. Harry could feel his heart racing, but Hermione seemed completely unaware.
"You loooook HAWT!" Hermione yelled, poking him in the chest and giggling. Harry couldn't help but laugh too. Her eyes widened. "Oh nooooo Harry! I have work tomorrow! Shhh!!!" She tried to put her finger on her lips but missed and stuck it up her nose. Harry resisted telling Hermione that it was only Saturday, and that no one works on Sundays.
A sound that resembled the noise a whale makes filled the bathroom, followed by a series of loud bangs that could only be due to someone smacking up against the wall. Harry unlatched the bathroom stall door and poked his head out.
"OOOMPA!" Penelope bellowed, raising her glass of ouzo. She took another drunken step towards the sink and smacked her face against the mirror. "Oopsie-daisy!" She squeaked, and then gasped when she saw Harry and Hermione. Her puce face had a devilish grin etched on top of it. "Looks like the stork'll be here soon…" She chortled and danced back to the dance parlour. Hermione squinted.
"Hoozat?" Hermione stumbled out of the stall and smacked into the opposite wall.
"Ouchies!" Hermione squealed. No sooner had the words escaped her mouth that she collapsed on the bathroom floor, roaring with laugher. Harry sighed.
"Time to go," he muttered, lifting her up.
"Hm?" Hermione squeaked. "Whashat?" She slowly lifted up her hand to stroke his face, but missed, again, slapping his forehead.
"Ouch!" he murmured, gazing at the beet red face of Hermione. His heart beat loudly in his chest, and he felt the blood rush to his face. He leaned into her so close that he almost brushed his lips against hers. Before he knew it, he pulled away from her, groaning in frustration. He quickly apparated out of the building with her.