Chapter Twenty-Six

Keep It As Gold

There was a little white Church in Greece. It was small, near the edge of woods, and a long way away from the city in which Luna's flat was in. With evening stretching along the purple sky him and Hermione apparated there, Hermione leading the way. She had told him before they left that it was a Church that once she had been to when she was young with her parents while they vacationed.

When they came to the quaint Church Hermione kissed Harriet, cooed something in her ear and broke away from Draco who rocked the crying baby who hadn't quite liked side-along apparation.

Hermione touched the corner brick, she bent to the flowers lined up outside. She sat on a wooden bench outside and sighed, tears glimmering in her eyes. He sat next to her with their daughter. He honestly didn't care about where they went, as long as they were married. As long as she belonged to him and him alone, but he was thoroughly glad that the place meant something to her.

She pointed into a parting of the woods. "That's where my dad showed me this pretty rock. It was the size of my hand exactly, and it was painted green and silver. I thought it was the most lovely thing here."

"Green and silver," he asked with humor though it confirmed what he knew. She did belong to him. Fate had set them up long before. Perhaps it was a bit presumptuous to read that much into a rock, but there they were.

She chortled. "Yes, green and silver. Funny, eh? This was before I went to Hogwarts. I was six." Her smile steadily slipped. "I thought it was the most prettiest thing here, but now I think this Church is. I'm surprised, really, I didn't think it would be standing. I mean... How could it be? Everything else is gone..."

He took her chin, directing her gaze at him. "Not everything," he said meaningfully.

Her smile returned, but just a little. "I love you."

"There'd be no other reason I'd come here."

She leaned forward, her lips barely touching his. His heart thrummed almost painfully in his rib cage in reaction to her closeness, her mint breath, but he didn't kiss her no matter how badly he wanted to at that moment. She had something to say, he could feel that. He was right.

"I wish they were here."

"So do I."

She seemed surprised by this. "You do?"

He smiled. "Your parents? Of course. Your other family? I don't like them anymore than I did in school, love." That was not close to the truth, because he hated them more then he did in the old days. He hated Potter for failing to kill Voldemort. He hated Weasley for... He didn't know what he could hate Weasley for anymore... His inane action was what led them to the moment they were having. He couldn't hate him any longer. However, his hatred of Potter fully made up for that, so he didn't feel as bad.

She leaned back, and he hated that. He wanted to pull her back, closer to him. "Then why...?"

"Because," he said slowly as if explaining simple addition to a child, but stopped quickly at the fevered look Hermione was giving to him. "I love you and you love them. I want you to be happy today."

She grazed her fingertips across Harriet's cheek, Harriet laughing sweetly, the sound of angel's bells in Draco (and certainly in Hermione's) opinion. "I can only be so happy..."

"I know... It's a dark day..."

"You have hope?"

"I have more than hope, lioness. I have you." Finally he bent and kissed her lips. He tasted strawberry. He grinned.

"I should get ready," she admitted.

"Then we'll wait for you."

Hermione kissed his lips one more time, and stood to walk to the doors of the Church to change. They had already spoken to the preacher by way of a pay phone near the flat, or it would be more truthful to say that Hermione talked with him as well as looked him up in a huge book beforehand. He never gave a real thought to it, but Muggleborns had the best chance at living a full life (Voldemort and Death Eaters excluded) because they knew of both worlds. They weren't as unintelligent as he had thought growing up and Hermione especially wasn't. Not that he didn't know that from the moment of meeting her (it made her effectively more irritating), and it was one of the reasons he loved her.

Minutes later from going inside and talking with the preacher, with Harriet in his arms Draco waited at the end of the aisle as Hermione altered her shirt into a simple white dress in the loo. He continued to wear his old clothing and Hermione had tried to insist that she do the same, but just as he fought for her to walk down the aisle, he fought for her to wear a white dress. It was the only wedding they were going to have. He wished he could have given her flowers, music, and cake instead of a last minute ceremony before they went off to face Death Eaters. He wished that her father, or any one of her friends were alive to walk her down the aisle properly, but he was going to do it as right as he could. He wanted to see her walk in towards him. It was something they should experience, the only thing he could give her.

The preacher (the single one willing to give the wedding last minute due to a lie that Hermione was dying - which was close enough) waited next to him with a sly toothy smile. Draco ignored him, his sights only for the doors past the pews.

Little Harriet cooed in his arms, and he hushed her gently, "mum will be here soon," he told, pride coming through his voice as he acknowledged Hermione to being her mother. It was only a short time, only hours, that they would have her, for that night they would be leaving Greece. They would leave immediately after handing Harriet over to the hospital where her biological mother was given. They would go back to England where they belonged.

Then the doors opened.

Draco was ecstatic. No, that was an understatement. He was beyond elation. Wishing for Hermione was one thing, having her was another, but marrying her... He couldn't describe the feeling that was coursing through him. He never dared to dream for something this out of reach, but there she was at the end of the velvet red aisle.

She was beautiful in a way he hadn't seen her since their fourth year at Hogwarts. In fact, she was more beautiful now than she was then, because now she had her eyes on him. Her dress was pure white, it flowed to the floor skimming it, hugging her curves. Her hair was let loose over her shoulders, the way he liked it, and her lips and eyes shimmered.

"There she is," he whispered to Harriet. "Your mum is gorgeous."

Hermione walked slowly towards him, blushing furiously. The Church they came to was silent, there was not even music to accompany them. Perhaps Hermione felt odd, but he was at perfect ease watching her. The most important aspect of it all was that she was coming to him. that she loved him enough to make the choice to bind herself to him for however long they were to live.

When she reached the alter she held out her arms, and Draco laid their daughter in them, his glowing smile matching hers. He knew more than ever that whatever there was to come it would be okay, because he had her. He had more than what he deserved.

"Do you have vows," the preacher asked in a thick Greek accent.

"Yes," he replied, Hermione now looking at him with awe, but he didn't deserve it. He didn't make vows, he hadn't thought it out. He just knew he had to explain to her in some way how much she meant to him. And he did, taking a deep breath and speaking from head and heart. "If I was an artist, I'd paint you a million times. I'm not, but my vision is filled with you. I never thought I'd be here. You're my wish come true. You've healed my wounds like magic. My past is a memory, the future a dream. My promise I'll give. I'll never leave you." He pursed his lips. "Keep this as gold, wrap it around your finger. Together, lets grow old." He smirked. He had no ring, the promise as best as he could do and they couldn't grow old. It all seemed very empty, but it was what he wanted.

***

Wet warmth streaked her cheek, and she tasted salt as she licked her lips. Who knew that such a cold man could be capable of such warmth. He would never cease surprising her.

"Ms?"

She nodded her voice cracking as she spoke. "Yes, I have vows." That was a lie. She didn't have vows, and as she listened to Draco's she felt immensely guilty for it, but she would tell him what he meant to her, and that was a vow in itself.

He stroked her cheek, wiping her tear away, at the same time giving her courage.

"I lost my family. I lost my home. I lost everything and everyone I love. I had nothing. But you... You gave me a family, a home, love. You've given me everything - forced it upon me is more like it - but I'm glad. You brought me back to life." It wasn't as romantic as he had put it, a poem-like vow that was lovely enough to make her weep.

"You are now officially husband and wife."

Startled, Hermione glanced at the preacher. Official. Wife. Husband. She laughed in shock, and kissed her new husband fiercely, Harriet between them giggling making the moment sweeter.

Her husband. Draco. Nearly a decade ago, who would've thought?

She took the baby from his arms, and he gently took the crook of her arm leading her out of the Church laughing all the way. It was contagious, she laughed too. They didn't know why. Maybe out of pure happiness, but they didn't stop until the cool air hit her face bringing her back. They paused at the edge of the dark woods in which they had apparated in.

"Are you ready for this," he asked, sadness etched into his features such a difference it was not a minute before.

She answered honestly, "no. No, I'm not." She looked down to the sweet angel in her arms, her bright eyes and rosy cheeks. "I don't want to give her up..."

"We have to."

"I know..."

He bent to her ear, his hot breath causing chills up her spine. "I want this life too."

More tears fell, this time not from pretty vows, or the commitment they made. "I want something to connect her to us." She did want that. It wasn't as though Harriet shared their blood, she carried no traits of either of them. When it came down to it she was a Muggle baby they rescued. They should have never formed a bond with her, but it was too late for that and she wanted a connection.

An odd look crossed Draco's visage only to be wiped clean like it hadn't been there. She wondered if she was seeing things. "How about... How about I give her my ring? It has our crest on it. She can trace us back..." He struggled to loosen the ring off of his finger and once he did he kissed the crest and placed it in the pink folds of the blanket. "She'll be safe," he promised and Hermione believed him, though she didn't know why.

He slung an arm over her shoulder, turned on the spot, and Hermione felt that familiar tightening in the pit of her stomach being pulled through a tight tube.

A/N: Draco's vows are another poem of mine titled "Keep It As Gold." Written for my husband shortly before we married.