Chapter Thirty-Six: A Wedding To Remember
Hermione paced anxiously in the den of the Burrow, which had been cleansed to perfection, and she reached up to pat her hair again. Fleur, in her pre-wedding jitters, had demanded that Hermione "do something with zat 'orrible hair," and then proceeded to force Hermione into a chair and braid the mess herself. Not that Hermione would let on, but she actually quite liked how it turned out.
She glanced at the clock, chewing her lip. She smoothed out her dress again. Draco and Blaise should have arrived by now... The ceremony began in twenty minutes, and the multitude of guests had begun to shuffle through and take their seats in the garden.
Finally, green flames burst to life in the fireplace. Blaise stepped out, frowning at the soot on his sleeve.
"Oh, bugger," he muttered, brushing himself off. Then he looked up, surprised to find that he wasn't alone. "Hermione – looking lovely as ever, of course."
Hermione blushed. "Thank you, Blaise. You as well. Where did you find these, anyway?"
She stepped forward and pulled out her wand, erasing any trace of soot with a simple vanishing spell. Blaise wore well-fitted black dress robes of a simple variety. They weren't nearly as flashy as the green he wore to the Yule Ball, Hermione noticed, and she wondered if his recent scarring had anything to do with it. He didn't seem quite as confident these days.
"I have my ways," he replied with a wink.
"Mhmm." Hermione paused, then hesitantly reached for Blaise's crooked bow tie. He didn't object. "Where's Draco? At this rate he'll interrupt the ceremony."
Blaise looked down. "He got a letter, actually. Weasley's pipsqueak of an owl delivered it. Apparently his mum had an idea of how to find him, after all."
"You can't mean –"
"They don't know about Grimmauld Place," Blaise said, catching Hermione's hand. Her fussing with his tie had grown frantic. "I promise."
For a moment, Blaise paused, still clutching Hermione's hand. Her eyebrows drew together, not understanding what ran through Blaise's mind; it caught him off-guard too. A few choice swear words popped into his head.
Someone coughed. Blaise dropped Hermione's hand like it burned him, straightening up and facing the newcomer.
Harry stood in the doorway, a look of trepidation on his face.
"Mrs. Weasley's asked us to sit," he said.
"Right, just one minute," Hermione said. Harry left slowly, locking eyes briefly with Blaise, who looked away.
Hermione turned back to Blaise. "What did the letter say?"
"Oh – er, I'm not exactly sure," he said. "Just don't hold your breath that you'll see him before the reception. It looked long."
"Okay," Hermione said. Her shoulders slumped slightly. "Well… Let's find our seats, then."
Blaise followed Hermione through the cramped house and out into the garden, where neat rows of white chairs faced a delicate, flowery archway. Fireflies buzzed about lazily despite the early hour, and white linens waved in the breeze overhead, offering them all a bit of shade.
Hermione found Ron and Harry, and she slid into the seat beside them. Blaise settled himself at her other side, his mind still rattling with uncomfortable questions, and he surveyed the other guests to keep himself occupied. A family of white-haired veelas took up the front row, practically glittering in the sun, and a myriad of red-headed witches and wizards dotted the audience as well. A young woman with curly blonde hair sat beside an eccentrically-dressed older man, and when she turned, Blaise's breath caught.
"You didn't say Luna would be here," he hissed, ducking his head.
"What?"
"Just – oh, nevermind," he said, trying to wave away Hermione's obvious curiosity.
It was bad enough to find himself thinking differently about Hermione. Why did he have to face his ridiculous Hogwarts crush as well? Blaise clasped his hands together, trying to keep them from shaking. No one from Hogwarts had seen him since that bloody duel. Around Grimmauld Place, where everyone knew about the scars and looked at him no differently, he could relax. But here…
Would Luna even recognize him?
He tried not to get ahead of himself. Since the duel, Blaise had put all thoughts of girls out of his mind. They'd always liked him primarily for his looks, he knew. He wasn't stupid. Now, without even his looks to get him by, Blaise didn't stand a chance. Which was okay. It had to be okay.
Entirely lost in his own thoughts, Blaise didn't hear the processional music start up. He felt a tug on his shoulder – everyone was standing, and Hermione pulled at his robes with annoyance. Blaise stood, keeping his face carefully composed. He caught a few guests staring at him, much like they stared at Mad-Eye Moody on the other side of the aisle, and it didn't do much for his nerves.
You can do this, he told himself.
Hermione leaned over. "Are you alright?" she whispered.
Blaise nodded. She was a good friend.
Just a friend.
And that was okay.
…
Draco hopped out of the hearth at the Burrow, accidentally scattering ashes about the den. He grimaced, got out his wand, and vanished the mess. Pocketing his wand once more, and trying to pull himself together, he stepped up to the window and looked outside. Fleur and Bill Weasley stood under a little arch of roses, all their loved ones watching on, with no sign of beginning the reception just yet.
He ran a hand through his hair. It was getting long, now. Molly had offered more than once to give him a trim, and while Draco had scoffed at the idea before, he now felt rather silly for turning her down. At least he'd shaved properly.
The robes make up for it, he told himself. He'd opted for a slate-gray cloak over black trousers and a proper white blouse, sans tie of course. Blaise had gone the more traditional route, which suited him well enough, though Madame Malkin had tried her best to fit him with something more roguish-looking. Most likely to play up his scars, Draco thought.
After so many weeks cooped up at Number Twelve, the boys had desperately needed a break. No one needed to know about their little trip to Diagon Alley, anyway. Not that anyone would ask.
Outside, the wedding-goers all stood and began to applaud, rose petals materializing and drifting through the air. It was all so frilly. Thank Merlin for Hermione, who wouldn't dream of being so impractical –
Draco's breath hitched. If he'd been sipping on a drink just now, he'd surely have spit it out. Hermione and wedding had no business appearing in the same string of thought. Just because she'd agreed to be his girlfriend…
He shook his head. How utterly mental.
Deciding to make his way out to the garden, Draco wound his way through the Burrow and found the door. It wasn't a bad place, actually. He'd always assumed that Weasley lived in an absolute hovel, but this… It was homey. Warm. Draco slipped through the door and stepped into the sun.
Everyone had migrated to the outer edges of the lawn, and several of the older Weasley boys had set to conjuring tables and summoning the chairs to arrange around them. Arthur, along with Remus, Tonks, and several redheads Draco didn't recognize began conjuring more airy linens to hang up above; they held them aloft while Molly swished her wand, knitting them together neatly. Arthur waved his wand and a wooden pole appeared in the center, holding up the top of their very quaint tent.
Fleur, unable to resist, scrunched up her nose at the simple pole. She leaned over to her sister, who held her bouquet, and plucked her wand out from the flowers. With a quick wave she had the beam wrapped in delicate white lace.
"Zat is better," she said. Bill, at her side, grinned at his new wife.
Before Draco knew it, the large tent was filled with floating lights and dotted with round tables at its edges. The center remained open, probably for dancing.
"Decent work, isn't it?" Blaise materialized at Draco's elbow, speaking low.
"More than decent," Draco replied. "Not that I'd tell Weasley that."
Blaise smirked. "Anyway, is everything alright? It took you long enough to get here."
"It's fine," Draco said. "Just a lot to take in, that's all."
When Draco didn't elaborate, Blaise merely nodded. He didn't press the issue further.
Hors d'oevres and drinks arrived at every table, and the guests began milling about excitedly. Some went straight to the happy couple for congratulations while others took up chairs and watched from the sidelines. Draco found himself scanning all the faces in the crowd, searching for that familiar head of ultra-thick brown hair.
"She's over there," Blaise said, pointing to a table in the corner. Draco peered over, unsurprised to find Potter and Weasley there as well, but his Hermione wasn't at all as expected.
"Is that – that's a muggle dress, isn't it?" Draco asked. His mouth felt dry. "Not many frills or layers, there."
"It's definitely not of the cutesy variety, that's for sure," Blaise agreed. He winked at his friend. "I doubt she'd be dressed like that if it weren't for you, mate."
Draco didn't reply – he had too much on his mind – and he set off through the crowd, winding past gaggles of aunts and uncles until he reached Hermione's table. She stood beside it, deep in conversation with Ron and Harry, clutching a modest purse in one hand. The dress in question hugged her curves, reaching just below her knees, but the shallow neckline kept it quite classy. He'd never seen her in a little black dress before, but Draco decided he liked it.
"…It's our only chance. When will everyone be gone, other than today?" Harry asked, clearly upset over something.
"I just think we have a bit more to consider now," Hermione hissed. "Dumbledore didn't leave us –"
"What do you want, Malfoy?" Ron cut in. Hermione turned, instinctively reaching up to check her hair, and she gave Draco a relieved smile.
"Oh, Draco – don't mind him," she said. "It's good to see you. We were worried."
Behind her, Ron and Harry shared a look which said just the opposite. Draco ignored them.
"Everything's fine," he said, taking one of her hands. "And tonight's not for worrying – tonight is for dancing and enjoying ourselves. Right, Weasley?"
Run grunted something unintelligible.
"See? He agrees." Draco grinned at Hermione, who tried to suppress a smile and failed. She rolled her eyes at him.
"Well, seeing as you've finally arrived, I'd like to steal you for a moment." She looked to Ron and Harry, who pointedly stared at the ground. Hermione huffed. "Honestly, you boys are worse than Lavender and Parvati. When you're ready to act like adults again, let us know." Then, wrapping her arm around Draco's elbow, Hermione steered him onto the dance floor.
Once they'd wandered away from the others, Hermione became more serious.
"Blaise told me about the letter," she said, keeping her voice level. "Any news?"
Draco sighed. "I told you, I'm not worrying about that tonight."
He took up her hand and began a gentle waltz; several musicians had taken their places at the altar and played in the background. Bill and Fleur danced together a few paces away, as did several other couples. Arthur and Molly swayed happily in one spot, admiring their new family, while Remus pulled a disgruntled-looking Tonks out and laughed at her suddenly-crimson hair.
"What were you talking about?" Draco asked. "You know, whatever Weasley didn't want me to overhear."
"Oh, that." Hermione looked away. "It's nothing, really."
"It didn't sound like nothing."
"Well… It's not entirely my business to tell," she said. "It wouldn't be fair to Ron or Harry if I told you."
Draco paused. "I won't tell anyone. Not even Blaise. You know that, right?"
"Of course I do," Hermione replied. She ran her hand over his arm, hoping to reassure. "Look, I just need you to trust me on this. There are some things I can't tell you about – namely, things concerning Harry. I thought you knew that."
"I thought it would be different, now that we're dating."
Hermione's face fell. She hated keeping secrets, but this… This thing she had with Draco was so new, she didn't know how to manage it. She hadn't even let anyone know that he'd asked her to be his girlfriend. In comparison to horcrux-hunting and wedding planning, it just hadn't seemed as important.
So where did this put them? Where did this put Draco while Hermione ran off to find horcruxes with Harry and Ron?
"What are you thinking about?" Draco asked.
"Nothing," she said. Draco raised an eyebrow at her. "Well… I'm thinking about next year, actually."
"Oh." He hadn't put any thought into Hogwarts yet. It wasn't like he or Blaise could safely return to school anyway. So what would they do? Hang around Grimmauld Place forever?
Instead of voicing any of those questions, Draco cleared his throat. "What about next year?"
"Well… Where we'll be, I think," Hermione said. "I hadn't told you just yet, but we – Harry, Ron, and I – we won't exactly be at Hogwarts."
"Where will you be?" Draco asked, slowing to a stop.
"We're still sorting that out."
"And when you say 'we,' you don't mean…" Draco let go of Hermione entirely, lowering his voice. He tried to look outwardly composed at least. "You're going off without me, aren't you? When were you going to let me know?"
Hermione reached for his hand, then stopped herself. She searched for the right answer. If she only had the right words, she could get them back to dancing happily –
"I'd tell you before I left, of course," she tried. "So it's not like you'd go weeks without knowing –"
"Hermione," Draco interrupted, "When are you leaving?"
Unable to meet his gaze, Hermione looked at the ground. Her eyes burned. She felt really stupid for ruining the evening, especially when she'd waited for it for so long. She'd spent days agonizing over the bloody dress, of all things.
"Draco…"
"I think I need a minute," he said. He turned and made his way out of the tent, not willing to get even more upset in the middle of some idiotic wedding. For the last week everything had finally seemed simple. Even when he read over the letter from his mother, which should have unsettled him, he'd been okay. Because he had Hermione, at least.
It should have been different. He hadn't expected her to suddenly divulge all of Potter's secrets, but to run off with him and Weasley, leaving Draco in the dark about it –
Before Draco could really escape, a burst of white light entered the tent. He squinted, making out the particular shape, and he realized what it was – a patronus. It was some kind of large cat, and with its arrival several of the guests shrieked in surprise. A booming voice echoed from the cat's mouth.
"THE MINISTRY HAS FALLEN," it said. Draco thought he recognized the voice, but he couldn't place it. "SCRIMGOUR IS DEAD. THEY'RE COMING."
The patronus collapsed in on itself, blinking out entirely, and with its dismissal everyone flew into a panic. It seemed that everybody suddenly needed to shout to each other. Left and right people disapparated with ear-splitting cracks.
It took a few seconds for Draco to process what he'd just heard. The Ministry of Magic had fallen. The Minister was dead. They were coming.
He scanned over the crowd, cursing that Hermione was so damn short, and started pushing his way back toward her. She'd make a beeline for Weasley and Potter, Draco knew. After all, they apparently came first –
"Draco!" Hermione grabbed his sleeve. Her eyes were wide with worry. "You and Blaise need to get back to Grimmauld Place – hurry, you can take the floo –"
"And what about you, then?" he asked.
"I need to get to Harry and Ron," she said, already on her tiptoes and looking out for her friends.
"Hermione," Draco said, "You heard him – whoever – the Minister's dead. You don't have time to go running off!"
"I'll be fine!" she snapped.
The tent quickly emptied, and soon only the aurors and immediate friends of the Weasleys remained. Molly had a hand on Ginny's shoulder and urged Bill and Fleur to disapparate her to safety. Remus and Tonks held their wands out and stood ready to fight; unseen by most, Remus reached out a hand and touched Tonk's waist, a pleading look in his eyes. She shook her head in return, standing firm by his side. Arthur had run into Blaise, and he pushed the young wizard toward the house, telling him to use the floo while he still could.
Before Blaise could duck out, more cracks filled the air. All around the perimeter of the tent, cloaked figures materialized, and at that moment all hell broke loose.
A stinging hex struck Draco in the left arm. He staggered back, fumbling for his wand. Hermione had hers drawn already.
"Stupefy!" she shouted. Amid the chaos Draco couldn't tell if it had worked.
Curses ricocheted off of every surface, filling the air with smoky colored lights. Several of the Death Eaters laughed as they fought. One of them advanced on Hermione and Draco, who couldn't concentrate properly through the pain in his arm.
Blaise appeared at their side. Hermione raised her wand toward their attacker – except he didn't raise his wand in return –
The Death Eater clamped a hand down on Hermione's wrist, and at the same moment, Blaise put a hand on her and Draco both. He apparated them, catching all three off-guard as their stomachs twisted up and their feet left the ground.
They landed in Diagon Alley.
"Serpentsortia!" Draco shouted the first spell that came to mind. A curse would've done better, but this did the trick for now. A large snake burst from his wand, wrapping itself around the Death Eater's neck; the man screamed, falling back while he clawed at the serpent in alarm.
"Let's go," Blaise said, pushing Draco and Hermione forward. They set off down the cobblestone road, only just now realizing how empty it was. All of the shops had closed for the day, despite the early hour, making the street feel desolate and eerie.
"We need to go back," Hermione said. "Harry and Ron –"
"Bugger those two!" Draco hissed. "We have enough to worry about at the moment, if you haven't noticed!"
"Shut up," Blaise ordered. He glanced around the street. "We can't stay here."
"We'll have to go to Grimmauld Place, then." Hermione reached out to the boys, not willing to wait for their Death Eater friend to catch up.
Draco didn't argue this time, and neither did Blaise. Hermione closed her eyes and concentrated on the stoop of Number Twelve, trying to fix it clearly in her mind; a moment later, they arrived.
She turned the doorknob. Draco grabbed her hand. He and Blaise stared down at the street, frozen in place, and Hermione followed their gaze. Not twenty feet away a cloaked figure stood on the sidewalk, previously leaning casually against a lamppost. The figure brandished his wand, his cloaked head swiveling about.
"He can't see us," Hermione whispered. She slowly pushed the door open. "He must've heard us apparate, though. Let's go."
She led the way into the house, Draco on her heels. Blaise kept his wand trained on the wizard, backing his way through the threshold, and he didn't relax until the door was closed and locked.
The portrait in the hall started screaming.
"FILTHY MUDBLOODS, SOILING MY HOUSE! HOW DARE YOU STAND IN MY PRESENCE AND –"
"Oh, fuck off," Draco spat. He flicked his wand and the portrait's curtains snapped closed, ending Mrs. Black's brief tirade.
He rubbed his arm and leaned back against the wall. The house was dark and gloomy, and in the absence of the portrait's bellowing, silence pressed in all around them. He, Hermione, and Blaise looked about, still very much on edge.
Hermione rubbed at her face. The Death Eater had pulled her braid, loosening its strands, and the disheveled look made her appear more tired. She lifted her chin, however, still determined. There was work to do.
"The floo should still be open," she said, "And the others could apparate like we did, too. We should watch both entrances to the house – they might have injuries."
"Or they might be followed, like we were," Blaise added.
Hermione nodded. "I'll take the fireplace."
Draco said nothing. Hermione didn't wait for him to reply, either. She headed through the kitchen at once and took a seat at the dining table, wand in hand, prepared to act at a moment's notice.
Blaise had come out of the fight unscathed, fortunately. He looked to Draco, who held his arm and frowned at the floor.
"Here," Blaise said, raising his wand. "Take that off."
At Draco's confused expression, Blaise indicated the cloak. Draco nodded, understanding, and shrugged out of it.
Blaise rolled up his friend's sleeve and eyed the damage. The hex had burned the underside of Draco's elbow, which bore a patch of deep red skin. It contrasted harshly against his pale complexion.
"Episkey," Blaise said. He watched as Draco's burn faded. "Damn handy spell, that."
"Thanks," Draco said.
Blaise waited for Draco to leave, expecting that he'd follow Hermione into the other room. He didn't. His eyes remained glued to the ground, that pained expression still on his face.
"I can watch the door," Blaise offered.
Draco blinked, shaking himself out of his thoughts.
"What was that?"
"I said I'll watch the door," Blaise repeated. "Go. I've got things covered here."
"Right," Draco said. He nodded. "Thanks. Again."
"Yeah, yeah. Sod off," Blaise said, smirking.
Draco folded his cloak over his arm and walked into the kitchen. He could see Hermione sitting at the table, her back to him and her hair a mess. She'd removed her heels and tossed them aside. The fireplace across from her sat empty and lifeless.
Setting his cloak on the table, Draco took a seat beside Hermione. He stared at the hearth as well.
"I would have been fine," Hermione said. She didn't look at him.
"That's a bloody confident assessment of things," Draco replied. "I don't know if you noticed, but there was about a Death Eater for each of us out there, and even the aurors didn't look so keen to go running through the middle of it."
"So what, you can do it but I can't?" Hermione finally looked up, an impressive glare on her face. "I saw you, Draco. You were about to do just that for me, but I caught you first."
Draco opened his mouth but couldn't find a proper response in time. Hermione barreled on.
"You say one thing's okay for you, but it's not for me," she said. "And instead of helping me, you kept me from getting to Harry and Ron. Do you really hate them that much? Are you always going to tell me 'no' when I want to put them first? They're my best friends. You don't get to do that!"
"Look, Hermione –"
"And now they're out there, and I don't know if they're okay because I'm told to sit here like a good girl and just wait it out, which is entirely unhelpful given the circumstances –"
"I'm your boyfriend!" Draco spat. "I just thought that would count for something, but I was bloody wrong, wasn't I?"
"What more do you want, Draco?" Hermione stood, her chair skidding out from the table. "I went to you first, and not just because I was sorry about – about before!"
Draco got to his feet. "Sorry? Sorry about what, planning to run off with them without giving me any notice whatsoever?"
"It's not like that!"
"Isn't it?" Draco took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He looked down at Hermione and dropped his voice to barely a whisper. "You had to know I couldn't stand it, but you said 'yes' anyway. Well fuck this, Hermione. I'm not about to watch you march off into battle and get killed for the bloody Boy-Who-Lived. I didn't want a martyr for a girlfriend, I wanted you."
Hermione deflated a bit. She found it hard to respond at all; what felt like a lump the size of a golfball had filled her throat.
"Saying 'yes' was bloody selfish of you," Draco said. He shook his head, snatching his cloak off of the table. "You can wait for them without me. Oh, and if you're still all set to run away sometime soon, don't bother saying goodbye. I won't need it."
Draco stormed out of the kitchen, leaving a very speechless Hermione in his wake. Blaise didn't react as his friend strode by and sat on the stairs in a huff, resolved to stare pointedly at the ground. They could pretend, for now at least, that Blaise hadn't overheard everything – just like they'd pretend they couldn't hear Hermione crying quietly to herself in the next room, even if it went on for the rest of the evening.
A/N: Thanks for reading, all. I'm sorry to kill your Dramione vibe just as soon as it started. They will bounce back, and as they grow up - which they're doing a lot of right now - the angst will level out. I think it's safe to say they've each made some immature decisions.
I have a few of the later chapters finished, but unfortunately it's not consecutive. I'm going to try to focus my efforts on Thirty-Eight, and I have next week off of work so maybe I can make some magic happen. We'll see. Thank you SO MUCH for all of your support, you are all great. I'd love to hear your thoughts on this chapter, and what the highlights have been for you - and also, things you didn't like. Feel free to be critics.
I updated my profile, but I haven't said anything in my Author's Notes yet. If any of you are artists, or have connections with people who enjoy projects like this, I'd LOVE some fan art of my story. I'd love a portrait of Blaise, and some of the scenes I've written, or even just some Dramione. It's all great. I get that it's a tall order, I just think it would be awesome.
Anyway, off to do some more writing! Love you guys.
Penny