This is a long one, folks. And I hope you enjoy it. I would appreciate your review, as it helps me understand if I'm actually doing something right. Thanks!

The sounds of Celine Dion coming through the loudspeakers did nothing to calm the nervous fluttering that Hermione was experiencing in the pit of her stomach.

A new day has come.

Indeed it had. They had been through their share of hardships and trials to arrive at this point, but Hermione wouldn't change it for the world. Okay, maybe just a little.

She smiled as she peeked down the church aisle at her two lovely daughters, with their dresses moving in the breeze. Not that there was a breeze to begin with, but Aunt Ginevra had managed to charm it to look that way. Her attention was drawn closer still, as she caught the glare that Diana directed to her older sister, apparently wanting Lily to give up whatever rights she held to the basket of rose petals that they had between them.

Hermione closed her eyes, concentrating to send her youngest the mental image of what punishment lies ahead if she didn't behave herself. Upon opening them, she saw that Diana got that message, as the little girl turned to nod to her mum before turning a brilliant smile back to those who were watching in the crowd.

She added a mental note to the list of things that they had been watching in which Diana was showing an early aptitude . The last thing Hermione and Draco wanted was for their little angel to become a trouble-maker so early on.

Her eyes were drawn to the end of the aisle, where she spied Harry, who was oblivious for the time being to her watching him. He looked so debonair in his black velvet robes, and someone had talked him into taming that usually disheveled hair of his. Then her breath hitched in her throat as she saw her groom walk into the chapel from the side hallway to stand next to his best man. He was wearing robes of dark green velvet, which appeared black until the material caught light when he moved. His hair was devoid of its usual product, falling softly to rest above his eyes.

"Breathe, Hermione, or we'll all be here for little or no reason at all."

She started, turning slightly to see Ginny Weasley standing beside her. She laughed a little, agreeing that she really needed to.

"Yes, I think I'd better. I don't wish to turn a color that is not becoming of the garment I'm wearing."

"Good luck, Hermione. That's my cue."

Once again, she found herself peering through the crack in the side of the doors, watching her maid of honor slowly traverse the stone floor. This church was an ancient one, full of history and tradition having been recommended by McGonagall herself. Their old professor had high hopes that her two favorite pupils would one day end up there, together. And we did, just not in the way you envisioned.

Lost in her thoughts, Hermione almost missed her own cue as the familiar strains of the wedding march floated to her. She began walking forward, taking her steps slowly as to not trip up on her beautiful gown.

The Daily Prophet would report that she was a vision in cream. She had decided to forego the traditional brilliant white of most weddings. Draco and she had lived together for almost five years now, through the birth of two wonderful little girls, and she had decided she was obviously nowhere near virginal enough to wear that particular color.

Harry saw her enter, and stopped his own intake of breath for a moment. He knew what she was going to be wearing, having sat in on more than one planning session at the Weasley household, but he had no idea she was going to be this breathtaking in it. The bodice of her dress was a beaded cream halter that met at an empire waist, flowing to a loose-fitting and lightly beaded skirt, devoid of the typical tulle under skirting. Hermione wouldn't have it, and the Weasley women and she had gotten into more than one row over it. She had also foregone the traditional veil, not wanting to deal with its fussiness. Her hair was pulled up into a loose bun, with tendrils of curls falling down from it. Leaning over to the soon-to-be husband, Harry whispered softly:

"You know, if you ever do anything to hurt her, I'll kill you."

Even with the lightly amused tone to his voice, Draco knew that his best man fully intended to carry it out if anything ever happened to Hermione that was his own fault. He reached over and patted Harry on the back.

"Don't worry, Harry. I know you would. And thank you, for doing this. It means so much to Hermione…and to me, too."

Harry started. The relationship between he and Malfoy had always been slightly strained, even with the close proximity they had because of their respective daughters. That was the nearest he had ever gotten to a heartfelt thanks from the man.

"You're welcome, Draco. If you ever need anything, I'll be there."

Draco nodded again, chuckling lightly to himself as he watched his bride coming towards them. Hermione, being Hermione, was not only moving very slowly, but counting to herself as she came, trying to keep in time to the rhythm of the music. As she reached the steps where he stood, he took her outstretched hand into his, Harry and Ginny politely stepping to the side to take their place as witnesses.

The minister before them began his sermon on patience, faith, and everlasting love. Hermione looked at Draco, smiling and rolling her eyes as the old man droned on and on for quite some time.

"Anyone whosoever objects to the union of these two persons, speak thee now, or forever hold thy tongue."

A feeling of dread and foreboding overcame her at that moment. Trying to remain the picture of calm, Hermione turned and looked at the crowd of onlookers expectantly. She was greeted by all smiles, and turned back to the minister and Draco as relief washed over her.

It was a fleeting feeling. The familiar crack of someone apparating to just outside the church doors made Hermione cringe. I've dreamt this before. At the sound of the heavy double doors to the chapel opening, her shoulders sagged visibly. Draco looked at her with the utmost concern before turning his attention to see whose heels were clicking across the stone tiles.

"I object, your grace."

Pansy Parkinson, with two Ministry officials in tow, was making her way towards them. She was dressed to the nines in a tailored pantsuit that was unusually tasteful for her habits, smiling and waving to the flashbulbs of the Daily Prophet going off in rapid succession. What a story this would make for the next day's edition. Hermione closed her eyes. Why didn't I finish those classes in Divination? Why didn't I pay attention to that dream? It had been so long ago, but she hadn't forgotten a single detail. Maybe because I killed her in that dream, which is something that I just wouldn't do. Not that I wouldn't mind doing that right about now, but….

As Hermione continued her own little conversation in her head, their former classmate slowly made her way to the front of the aisle amidst gasps and barely hid whispers, looking like the cat that had caught the canary. She held a long piece of parchment in her slender fingers, which Draco dreaded seeing at all, knowing that Pansy always had something up her sleeve.

"Parkinson, hurry up and get your melodrama over with so I can marry Hermione."

Pansy smiled, pushing the parchment closer to their faces. By then Harry had moved forward to see what the bloody hell was going on.

"If you look to paragraph C, subtext D, Draco Malfoy cannot marry anyone, including Hermione Granger, because he is already married…to…me."

"WHAT?!?!?!"

The outburst came from Harry himself, who grabbed the parchment from her, scanning over the words to make sure she was right. Draco turned to Hermione, who still had her eyes closed, whispering to herself.

"H-Hermione? Honey…?"

"Get...out."

The cold fury in her voice caused all those present in the chapel to fall to complete silence. No one had ever heard that tone come from Hermione's lips before. Not even Harry. Draco paled as he looked at her eyes, which were now open, her gaze unflinching.

"Hermione…you can't possibly think I had anything to do with this! It has to be something cooked up between Parkinson's parents and mine. Darling, I…."

"Get out, Draco. And take your…wife…with you."

She continued pointing to the door. Draco turned to Harry, a pleading look in his eyes.

"Take care of her Harry. This isn't over yet."

"I will."

But anyone who saw and heard him at that moment knew that Harry didn't really give a damn what Draco said or did. He was more concerned about Hermione's well being. Remembering their daughters at that moment, he looked over and sighted that George and Ginny had already scooped them up and rushed them out of the building.

"Let's go Parkinson."

"Don't you mean, Mrs. Malfoy, Draco?"

"Whatever…."

Hermione stood there, eyes blazing until they apparated away with a crack. Then she crumbled, falling to the steps in a heap. The skirt of her beautiful dress spread around her, making her look like a fallen ballerina.

Harry did the only thing he knew to do. He knelt down beside her, taking her into his strong arms as she was racked by sob after sob, the tears now flowing like a rushing river. At this point, there was nothing else he could do. Harry was just as lost as Hermione was.