Everyone: Bless you for all your comments and encouragement, as well as helpful tips. They make my day.
ProwlingKitkat & Heidi: ::grin:: Actually, what I wrote was that she was a 1/2 mile from home but 1 1/2 miles from her front door, meaning her parents property was huge (a mile from front gate to front door). Sorry for any confusion.

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Chapter Ten
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Draco paced restlessly. They had been gone for over three hours. He wasn't sure what worried him more, though, the thought that his father had somehow magically managed to figure out what was going on and got hold of them, or the thought that his godfather or his fiancee had managed to kill the other. They were two of the most volatile people he knew. The Dark Lord, his father, and Potter outranked them . . . but just barely.

He glared out the window facing Hogwarts' gates for what seemed the thousandth time, but this time was no more productive than the last. Blast and damn it all, where are they? he wondered venomously. How bloody long does it take to make a stupid withdrawal, anyway?

A hand on his shoulder startled him into a jump. "They will be fine, and back soon, I'd imagine."

Imagine all you'd like old man, Draco thought, disrespecfully. Instead of voicing the worst of his discontent, he continued aloud, "I'll not relax until they're back."

"Understandable, Mr. Malfoy," he said, nodding. Hitching a hip high enough to sit on the edge of the window ledge, the headmaster continued. "Shall we wait for them together, then?"

No! You barmy old coot. I want to wait alone. He shrugged. "If you want," he said.

They watched and waited silently for long enough that Draco's thoughts began to whirl . . . again. What did the headmaster think of all this, truly? Why was he acting so . . . nice? What did the headmaster want from him? And there would be payback for all this . . . accomodation he was sure. Then a dreadful thought occured to him.

"I still love my father," he blurted suddenly.

"Of course, you do, dear boy."

Draco's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "I may not like him very much right now. In fact, I pretty much dislike him entirely. And I'm very angry with him, but I won't betray him."

The headmaster simply lifted a surprised eyebrow and tilted his head thoughtfully. He didn't reply.

"By my standards of betrayal," he added, realizing in the answering silence of his last statement, that by his father's standards, he already had.

The headmaster nodded agreeably. "Understood."

Draco nodded firmly. Good He was glad that was settled. He still had hopes of reconciliation some years down the road. They weren't high hopes, but they were there nevertheless.

"I suppose," the headmaster said softly, looking out the window instead of at Draco, "that only one question remains, then."

Draco frowned, glaring at the headmaster's profile. "And what's that?" he asked, without having really meant to.

The headmaster turned then, his customary twinkling expression serious. "Now that you have, more or less, openly declared you will not side against Voldemort."

Draco flinched slightly.

"Are you planning on remaining neutral, as it were, or do we have to worry about you actively supporting the Dark Lord?"

Well, that was certainly blunt. Draco snorted slightly. "With a mu-ggleborn for a wife, and a half-blood child on the way?"

"Good point, Mr. Malfoy, and a very Slytherin answer."

Draco smirked.

"But it didn't answer my question."

"No," Draco growled. "I will not be joining the death eaters."

The headmaster smiled widely. "Wonderful, Mr. Malfoy," he replied, returning his gaze out the window. "Ah! Just as I suspected. They are back, and both under their own power."

Draco's head snapped around and he stared out the window. He grinned as he saw the two people he'd been waiting for. He almost laughed when he realized that the two of them looked to be arguing.

x-x-x

Draco met them outside the front entrance, decorum bedamned. As uncomfortable as he was with this entire situation, one thing was always at the forefront of his mind; his and Katherine's child. It may have been only a few days, and he still wouldn't let himself feel her loss when it didn't pull a nasty sneak attack, but he was suprised to discover that he was already minding less and less what the world would think about his child.

As he watched his head of house approach the castle with his fiancee, he was further surprised to discover that the whole idea was starting to grow on him -- kind of. Despite their . . . different backgrounds -- and no, he hadn't quite reconciled himself to her nonmagical background -- he suddenly realized that if they made a concerted effort, this marriage might not become an unmitigated disaster.

He also had to admit, as much as he wanted to remain a Malfoy, there was something curiously freeing about knowing he wouldn't be responsible for continuing the Malfoy line. He wouldn't be the reason the proud Malfoy heritage was no longer pure of muggle influence. Instead, he would be . . . upgrading the Granger line. He snorted at his own mental gymnastics, stopping just short of rolling his eyes. Six of one, half dozen of the other, really. No matter what the records cared to show, the Malfoy family was no longer completely pureblood. His child would see to that -- even if it wouldn't bear the name Malfoy.

Still, it was an interesting feeling.

As the two grew closer, another thought occurred to him, one that, he supposed, should have occurred very much sooner. Just how real would this marriage be? What did he want out of the marriage? What would she want? And odd feeling grew as Hermione's form became clearer and he could actually see the small bulge nearly hidden by her robes. Would he ever see her this way again? Would she ever carry another of his children, only the next time hers as well?

He remained still and silent next to the headmaster, not wanting the older wizard to know about his sudden disquiet, nor the reasons for it.

"Done," Hermione said the moment she was close enough to do so without raising her voice.

"Excellent," the headmaster replied, smiling.

Draco, on the other hand frowned. Hermione looked flushed. "Are you alright?" he asked, instantly stepping to her side. "Maybe the walk was too much in your condition," he suggested trying to take her arm to assist her into the school.

Hermione simply rolled her eyes at him. "I'm fine, Draco. I'm pregnant, not diseased. Madam Pomfrey assured me that the damage has healed and the danger has passed."

Draco glared at the older men as the headmaster's grin widened, his eyes dancing with delight, and Professor Snape snorted.

"Now we need to send the dowry, along with your letter of intent, Miss Granger," the headmaster said, ignoring Draco's look completely.

Hermione nodded. "Yes, Sir."

"Also, we will need two witnesses. I would suggest each of you choose one, but that is a decision to be made by the two of you."

"Minerva and I would function quite well as witnesses," Professor Snape interrupted. "The less people who know about this until after it is done, the better."

Draco, as much as he would like to invite either Crabbe, Goyle, or both, agreed that perhaps it would be best.

Hermione, on the other hand, barely waited for the professor to finish speaking before ignoring his suggestion completely. "I would like to invite Harry and Ron," she said softly. "I can choose one as the witness, but I wouldn't feel right inviting one and not the other."

"That would not--" Professor Snape began, only to let his words fall off as the headmaster contradicted him even as he was saying the words.

"That would be acceptable, Miss Granger."

Draco shifted restlessly, before coming to a decision that wasn't entirely Slytherin in nature, but that he wanted to make anyway. If Hermione was going to have her friends there, he felt it only fair that he have his -- if they would come when they found out who he was marrying . . . this time.

"I'm perfectly happy having Professor Snape as legal witness, but I too would like to invite two friends."

At the two older wizards' surprised looks, he shrugged. "Crabbe and Goyle wouldn't understand if Potter and Weasley were invited to my wedding, and they weren't," he hedged, not wanting to reveal his true reasons. While the reason he'd given was actually true, it wasn't his real motivation. As thick as the two of them were sometimes -- most of the time -- they really were his two best friends. He just hoped they still would be. He wasn't really all that close to anyone else in Slytherin house.

Professor Snape shook his head, snorting in exasperation as he strode off.

"Does that mean he will, or won't, be your witness, Draco?" Hermione asked. "I admit that I'm not up on deciphering Snape language."

"He'll be there," Miss Granger," the headmaster replied, answering for Draco. Which, to Draco's mind, was a good thing, since he hadn't been altogether certain, either.

"I would like it if Professor McGonagall was there, as well," Hermione offered. "If she wants to be."

The headmaster beamed at her. "Excellent, Miss Granger. I'm sure she'll be delighted."

Draco barely resisted a snide remark, opting instead for, "well, why not invite Madam Pomfrey as well. Don't want to leave anyone out," he said drily, not seriously intending the remark.

Unfortunately, the headmaster chose to ignore the sarcasm. "Brilliant idea, Mr. Malfoy. Why don't you go down and invite her."

I wasn't serious! He didn't protest vocally, however, doing as instructed.

"This is turning out to be quite the gathering, Miss Granger, perhaps you would like to invite Professor McGonagall yourself?" he suggested. "You could speak with her about something appropriate to wear?"

Draco didn't hear Hermione's response, but was now worrying about what he would wear. Everything he had taken with him when he'd left home had been destroyed in the fire at the motel, and when he'd taken the time to owl Madam Malkin's for a few items to hold him over, he hadn't been thinking about formal wear. For that matter, when this whole situation had come up, neither he, nor Hermione, had voiced any thoughts about doing anything more than the bare minimum required by wizarding law. Now it was turning into a real wizarding ceremony. All that was missing were aquaintances, hordes of barely known relatives, and enemies one couldn't afford to snub.

His mind now whirling, he was planning for all he was worth. Beginning to truly accept that it was going to happen, and happen today, Draco was beginning to panic. Both he and Hermione had agreed that they wanted it to look like they'd wanted to get married. Better that than the alternative . . . for both of them. If that was to happen, this ceremony had to look as if they'd sat down and planned, had been planning it, since before they were supposedly married back in June.

With that in mind, he began planning the little details he knew could trip them up. The first thing he realized was that they would need someone to take pictures. It certainly wouldn't seem planned if that little piece of tradition were not observed.

He reached the infirmary before he'd found the answer to it. It wasn't as though they could go professional; there simply wasn't time to hire someone. Perhaps one of Hogwarts' staff knew something about photography, he thought as he stepped inside the medi-witch's domain. Madam Pomfrey wasn't readily visible, so Draco headed toward her office, hoping to find her there. She wasn't in her office, but something was; pictures, lots of them. They graced just about every free space on her office wall.

Draco grinned, despite everything that still needed done in a ridiculously short period of time. And no, he couldn't believe he was getting this worked up over this particular ceremony. It was only his pride, he assured himself. It wasn't as though he were trying to build a good memory or anything girly like that. He might have, if this had been with-- He cut off that train of thought instantly, already feeling his chest clench. Thankfully, Madam Pomfrey chose that moment to return to her office, effectively distracting him from his suddenly depressing thoughts.

"Was there something you needed, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco ignored the slight disapproval he heard in the medi-witch's voice as he turned. "Yes, Ma'am. Two things actually. First, I came down here to invite you to the wedding."

Madam Pomfrey grinned. "I would be honored to attend, Mr. Malfoy," she replied.

"Thank you," he said softly.

"And the second thing?" she asked, coming closer.

"Did you take these pictures?" he asked, indicating her walls with a wave of his hand.

"Most of them," she replied. "Some were taken by my daughter. Why?"

Madam Pomfrey has a daughter?

"Would you be willing to take the wedding photos?"

If possible, Madam Pomfrey's grin widened even more. "I'd love to!" she exclaimed happily.

"Great!" he replied. "That's one thing taken care of. Now, I've just got to figure out what to wear," he continued, heading for the door. "It's in three hours, at 4pm." He was almost to the door when Madam Pomfrey stopped him.

"Do you love her?" she asked.

Draco froze. No, he didn't; he could barely stand her. For that matter, she didn't love him, either, but how did he answer the incredibly personal question? He turned slowly, trying to figure that out. One glance at the medi-witch and Draco knew.

"No," he replied. "And before you ask, she doesn't love me, either." He almost left it at that, but watching the sadness envelop her face, he felt compelled to share the conclusion he had startlingly come to less than an hour before. "But I think we can make it work." When Madam Pomfrey looked doubtful, he continued, surprising himself. "I'm not at liberty to share just what, exactly, but Hermione did something incredibly selfless for me. It made me stop and do some very serious thinking. I'm not sure what's going to happen, but, at least on my part, there's a little bit of respect. Just maybe, if we both try and we work hard enough at it, we might be able to make a go of it."

Madam Pomfrey's face cleared a bit, though, she did still look a little worried. "Many couples in history have started with less," she offered tentatively.

Draco smiled then, relaxing. "Very true. My parents, for example, didn't even know each other when their parents arranged their marriage." He frowned a bit. "Of course, they didn't have the baggage we'll need to overcome, history and all that. But, still."

"I wish you all the luck, Mr. Malfoy."

"Thank you," he replied sincerely. He suspected they were going to need all the luck they could get, and not just to make the marriage work. They still had to pass the hurdle of their combined friends. Crabbe and Goyle weren't going to be pleased by his choice of a second wife. And it pretty much went without saying, that Potter and Weasley weren't going to be happy that he was the groom. If he'd thought it would do any good, he'd pray that their friends reactions didn't make a good go impossible from the very beginning.

"You mentioned needing to find something to wear. Don't you have anything?" she asked, looking confused.

He shook his head, more than a bit embarrassed by it. "No, when I left home I didn't take anything formal with me, and now, well, I don't really dare go home to get something."

"No," Madam Pomfrey exclaimed, "of course, not." A spark lit her eyes suddenly. "Well, young man, I just may have something to help."

Relieved, Draco stepped toward her. "Really?"

She nodded. "It may be a bit old fashioned, but a couple of tailoring spells can take care of that little foible right quick."

Now a bit wary, Draco followed the medi-witch. He was curious enough, however, that he set aside most of his reservations. It wouldn't hurt to take a look, to see what she could come up with. And besides, he really was rather desperate. He had no doubts that the Gryffindor head of house would come up with something for Hermione to wear, and he didn't want to make a bad showing, next to her.

By the time he left the medi-witch's presence, not only did he have something he liked to wear for the ceremony, he was feeling a great deal better about the whole thing. He hadn't known, before now, that Madam Pomfrey was a widow, and listening to her recount how she and her late husband had met, raised his hope that maybe neither he nor Hermione were irrevocably ruining their lives by getting married. After all, he was pretty sure that the Weasel or Potter would suck it up and marry her, to let her stay in school.

He shuddered, imagining his and Katherine's child being raised as a Potter or a Weasley.

Nope! Not going to happen! he thought fiercely, feeling almost as though they'd already offered. He cringed now, knowing it might actually come to that. In fact, they both might offer to marry her. Dread coursed through him as he suddenly realized that Hermione just might take one of them up on it.

Is that why she wanted them here? he worried. Biting his lower lip, he hoped not. She promised! he reminded himself, remembering how outraged she'd become the last time he'd suggested she might not be honoring her promises in regard to the baby. He held onto that. Despite it not being a very Slytherin thing to do, he had to believe she wouldn't back out now.

Laughing suddenly, he cast his eyes upward. Well, Katherine, he thought ruefully, it's official. I've gone barmy. Don't ask me why, but I really want this marriage to work, he continued, eyes watering up, despite his best efforts. She's the direct opposite of everything I've ever wanted in someone, and it really doesn't make any sense. He shook his head. In fact, the entire situation is over the top, and I really am going crazy. There was only one answer for it. He needed some of this resolved. Setting off at a trot, he headed for the kitchens, the one place he was virtually assured of finding a house elf.

TBC

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