All The Things I Hate About You, Part XXIII

Rating: M

Summary: All The Things, continued. Kate Advent, Day 23.

#23 At every table you save a seat for me

Draco apparated with a loud crack.

He was late, and the large distance of grassland he had to stomp through was certainly not helping. By the time he reached the enormous, towering white canopies extended from the teetering bungalow (he refused to refer to it as an actual home, as a matter of principle), he needed to refresh the charms meant to keep his new leather shoes clean and his hair slicked back.

"Oh," a small voice echoed disdainfully as he slipped through the main entrance. "What are you doing here? Get lost, Malfoy?"

He sneered at the young ginger and tucked his hands casually in his trouser pockets, rocking forward to whisper in her freckled ear, "Not in the slightest."

Then, Draco produced a slip of paper – not even pleasantly scripted, not that he expected any less from neither the bride nor the groom's taste – and held it mockingly just out of her reach.

"I was invited, Weaslette," he taunted, finally letting her read the name on the invite and weep. "Now," he said, straightening his tie out of habit and shouldering past her. "I'm late to meet with my wedding date, so if you'll excuse me."

She grimaced but Draco smirked and kept walking.

He felt several sets of eyes follow him as he made his way through the space and suddenly had the strange deja vu of walking through the dark corridors of Hogwarts. Too many Gryffindors were present, and it hardly seemed fair to him, but then again, he was accompanying the best of them all and there was no rumour they could spread that he wouldn't gleam at.

"Draco!" The familiar trill called, waving him over to one of the rows of seats on the groom's side. He shuffled past a few unmemorable faces and noticed that she had saved a seat for him. "There you are," Granger sighed, swiping the small clutch from the chair beside hers and patting it emphatically. "Hurry up, it's about to begin."

"I thought you didn't want to come to this thing," he pointed out, taking the seat and slinging an arm comfortably over her shoulders.

"I didn't," she retorted, shooting him a warning look to lower his voice. "I still don't, but I – Well, I couldn't think of a viable excuse not to come."

"Hm," he grunted. Suppose he couldn't argue with that, though personally if Malfoy had to watch his ex get married to a complete airhead and waste of space, then he wouldn't care what people said of his absence. Not attending would be worth any gossip.

Then again, his ex was Satan and not an equal waste of space.

Or a ginger.

Draco shuddered at the thought as he toyed with one of Granger's curls.

The ceremony went on forever and it tore at his will to endure the torture of watching two idiots swear their undying love for one another in horribly unstylish formal wear (he suspected hand-me-downs based on the shoulder pads evident even from the back of the space on both the bride and groom).

As it came time for the actual vows, Draco kept an eye on Granger's face, searching for any sign of discomfort or pain.

"Won-Won," the bride – Lavender, he remembered, snapping his fingers subtly in his lap – began, causing several audience members to cough in order to hide their retches. "You are the bravest man I have ever known and I can't wait to spend every single day, no every single minute and every single hour, of the rest of our lives together. My Googly-Bear," she sniffled. "I love you so much!"

She squealed, bouncing slightly up and down as she finished her speech.

Draco shuddered again, not bothering to hide his grimace.

Granger remained stoic.

Then, the groom went next. "Lav-Lav," he began, causing yet another round of coughs. "You are the best thing that happened to me. Like ever. I think you're the only woman that's ever really gotten me – you know really understood me? – and I think you're the only woman I've ever really loved, too. Yeah. Definitely…"

Draco drowned out Weasley's pathetic speech in favour of letting his silvery eyes fall on Granger's face. Her jaw was clenched, but other than that she seemed unbothered by the sentiment – by the implication that she was not a woman worthy of his love.

What a fucking idiot, he thought.

Then again…

What a fucking idiot was he?

Draco had known he harboured feelings – he wouldn't dare say the bloody L word yet – for Hermione Granger, brightest witch of her age, and he hadn't said a single goddamn thing to her about it.

They'd been flatmates for nearly a year now, and they had already renewed their lease for the next year. They'd been sleeping together for six months now, and it had been so easy.

Everything with her was easy.

He never had to question if she would be there for him if he needed something because, most likely, she would have already seen that he needed her and would have been prepared to stand beside him the minute he admitted he needed her.

He never had to question if his feelings would waver, because he was absolutely fucking certain that they weren't going anywhere anytime soon.

In fact, even if Draco refused to say that stupid four-letter word right now, he knew that one day he would.

One day, Draco Malfoy, would stand at the end of an aisle (very different from this one because he and his family had taste) and he would wait for her, Hermione fucking Granger, to walk down it and meet him at the end.

One day, he would take her hand in his and slip a ring on her dainty, usually chocolate-covered, fingers and promise her forever.

But today…

Today, he would have to begin their forever. For real, this time. No "pussy-ing" out or whatever she said to him the other week.

Draco stood and clapped along with the other guests as the two newlyweds made their way back down the aisle, but all he could think of the entire time was –

What Granger would look like in white (if she dared to abide by bridal norms, which he seriously doubted she would) and –

What she would say during her vows (probably something along the lines of, "I love you, but I still think we're paying too much to heat the flat,") and –

Which hideous pop song she would choose for their first dance together as man and wife (it would almost definitely be Lover by Taylor Swift because she had angry cried at him to leave her alone any time she played it in the flat).

And it killed him to imagine her doing any of those with another man.

When the guests began filing out of the ceremony area of the row of canopies and into the reception area, knocking back glass after glass of cheap champagne as they did, Draco caught a hold of Granger's wrist and pulled her back from following the rest of them.

"Malfoy?"

Her brows furrowed questioningly.

"Granger," he began cautiously. Then, realizing he was already off on the wrong foot, began again. "Hermione," Draco said, swallowing a lump in his throat. "We need to talk."

A/N - Ahh we're really getting to the end of this fic now! crazy! This was one of my favorite parts to write and I'm dedicating it to the clever anon who recognized Sick Draco as being inspired by Sick Sheldon xx

EDIT: I actually adore the song Lover and many of the other things that Draco/Hermione have mocked so please take anything I say with a grain of salt