We're really getting into the Happily Ever After now, aren't we?
Here, have a wedding!
Many thanks to Graceful Lioness
Draco staying at home turned out to be the best possible solution to all the problems Hermione didn't even know existed.
Shiloh was toilet trained within two weeks, but that was only just the beginning.
Hermione made the silly assumption that planning a wedding would be much, much easier than fighting in a war at nineteen, while pregnant.
She was wrong.
After Draco's fumbling, albeit incredibly heartwarming proposal at the hospital last year, wedding planning had commenced in the most overwhelming fashion possible: not one, not two, but three mothers were involved.
Narcissa Malfoy expected a large affair with all the best money could buy. Designer everything, wall-to-wall crystal with an air of finesse. And of course, all the right guests and a journalist or two. "The Malfoy name must be rebuilt, and a wedding is just the way to do it." Those had been the exact words she'd used over tea at the Manor—the first Hermione had taken with Draco after her surgery.
Her mum's only request was to be included and to know what was going on. Nothing more. It nearly broke her heart. Although they were taking steps toward making amends, their relationship was still—and probably would forever be fractured. If it had been like before, she and Mum would have done a lot of the preparations together: dress shopping, venue browsing, bickering over who to invite…
Hermione chose to focus on the positive. Or, at least, she tried to. Mum was home permanently, and she wanted to be involved. And that was more than Hermione believed possible for a long while.
The final mother involved was Mrs. Weasley. With two children already married, she was practically a professional and had endless advice, which she shared freely each time they came over for supper. Harry and Ginny had married in early spring with new life budding all around them. As predicted, they were wed at the Burrow. At Harry's insistence, it had been a modest affair. Hermione had never seen her best friend so happy as he watched Ginny walk down the aisle toward him on that crisp spring day.
It made her stomach bubble with excitement for her own turn.
But when Mrs. Weasley suggested that they, too, use the Burrow as their wedding venue, it made her stomach twist in knots.
The Burrow was where Weasleys got married. When she was much younger and still had eyes for Ron, she'd imagined marrying him there, walking toward his goofy grin in a simple white dress. But that dream had died long ago, replaced with something new. A new dream filled with a soft upturn of lips and grey eyes that sparkled like stars in the night sky and filled her heart with so much joy she couldn't imagine a single moment not spent by his side.
The Burrow was special. Not just to her, but also to her little family. But no matter how special it was, it wasn't where she wanted to have her wedding.
When she conferred with Draco, he quite agreed.
It was quite lucky that Draco chose to stay home, because just as he quit, wedding planning began picking up. And being a man of society, he was far more equipped to handle the opinions of three vastly different women than Hermione was. He commanded his mother's sharp attitudes with determination, firmly telling her no when necessary. He comforted Mrs. Granger in her hesitancy with warmth and openness, helping her feel a part of it all. And with Mrs. Weasley, he listened to all her advice, negotiating when she insisted.
Draco took care of everything while she worked overtime to prepare the werewolf legislation with the proper focus it deserved. While he took Shiloh to daycare three days a week, the little girl spent the rest of her time at his side. If Hermione ever had reservations about his capabilities as a father or a partner, those were long forgiven and forgotten.
As their wedding day drew closer, Hermione allowed herself to feel the full bubbling excitement that accompanied being a bride.
She went dress shopping with all three mothers, Ginny, Fleur, and Luna.
She stared at their wedding rings, which sat atop their dresser in matching black boxes.
She practiced writing her new name.
Hermione Malfoy.
Mrs. Hermione Jean Granger Malfoy.
The sight of it, written on parchment with quill and ink, was foreign to her eyes. She would get used to it in time, she supposed, but for now, she revelled in its newness.
Before she knew it, the middle of June crept up on them, and she awoke on the morning of the tenth to sunlight streaming through the curtains of a bedroom that was not her own. Outside the window, she could hear the soft sound of waves ebbing and flowing. That's right. She was at Shell Cottage.
And she was getting married today.
Hermione yawned and stretched, closing her eyes to savour the quiet. With a toddler in the house, she rarely had the opportunity for such a peaceful wakening. Harry and Ginny had taken Shiloh last night, leaving Hermione to the best rest she'd had in quite some time.
She padded across the room, loving the feel of the soft, blue rug under her bare feet. Later today, she'd likely feel sand on her feet and between her toes. She was getting married on the beach, after all.
After a long debate, she and Draco had decided to have their wedding at Shell Cottage. He'd always pictured marrying at the Manor, but that place simply had too many bad memories to make it a viable option. Hermione had suggested the church where her own parents had married, but they would have had to cast a Confundus Charm on the vicar, and that just didn't sit right with her.
In the end, Shell Cottage had been the right decision. Secluded, it would be far away from prying eyes and especially from journalists. It was where they'd reconnected after months apart and the home of so many memories that belonged to only them. It was also naturally beautiful, and would need very little in the way of decorations.
Then again, knowing that Draco had planned the wedding, she was sure that some of his aristocratic flare would make an appearance.
Hermione peeked past the gossamer curtains to glance down at the spot where, later today, she would become the new Mrs. Malfoy.
A knock at the door brought her from her reverie.
"Hermione. Are you up? It's Ginny."
She crossed the room to let her matron of honour in. Ginny was waiting in the hall with champagne and glasses in hand. Luna and Fleur stood just behind her, the former with the usual dreamy expression on her face and the latter looking eager.
Hermione remembered exactly what it was like to have a break from a one year-old, and was excited on Fleur's behalf.
"Right." Ginny placed her hands on her hips after pouring everyone a glass of champagne. "We've got exactly three hours to make Hermione bridal before guests start arriving. That includes kids, so we better get to work." She turned to Hermione and looked her up and down. "At least half that time will be used for your hair."
Hermione took a large sip of champagne and smirked, too content to be angry at Ginny's playful jab.
Hermione, rarely one to accept help, now sat back and allowed herself to be pampered. Ginny worked with her hair, Fleur attended to her nails, and Luna did her make-up. All she had to do was sit and sip her champagne and carry on conversations. Her mind often wandered to Shiloh and how she was faring with Ron this morning. She hoped Shiloh wasn't driving Ron spare with her requests to have a tea party. She also thought of Draco and the sorts of preparations he was making with Theo and Blaise. They were at the Manor—that much Hermione knew. Perhaps they were drinking firewhisky or had gone out for a fly.
Draco deserved to be with his friends, and the thought of him spending time with them made her smile as she brought her champagne glass to her lips.
When it was nearly time for guests to begin arriving, Ginny, Luna, and Fleur helped her into her wedding dress. It was a designer piece, as insisted upon by Narcissa Malfoy. But it wasn't anything gaudy or too haute couture. It wasn't even close to traditional wizarding wedding robes. Instead, it was a classic-looking dress. One that made her feel beautiful.
As Hermione looked at herself in the full-length mirror that sat in the corner of the guest room, she couldn't help the smile that spread across her face. She felt her cheeks dimpling as she drank in the sight of herself in a wedding dress.
"Oh, Hermione. You look lovely." Fleur placed a hand on her shoulder, gazing at her reflection. "A true bride."
Ginny joined in with a hint of mischief in her eye. "You're practically glowing, Hermione. Are you sure you're not pregnant?"
Hermione chuckled. "No, definitely not. Any glow you see is purely wedding related."
Luna was the last to step up with the group by the mirror.
"She's not pregnant. She's only got one aura around her. But today would be an auspicious day to conceive. We're approaching the solstice, after all. If you place the branch of a fig tree at the foot of your marriage bed tonight, that should increase your chances greatly."
Hermione shot a knowing smile at Ginny, her cheeks turning pink. "I'll keep that in mind, Luna. Thanks."
Guests began arriving shortly thereafter, and the sounds of voices began echoing up the stairs. Fleur, Luna, and Ginny remained at her side, though they occasionally excused themselves to say a few hellos. Alone in the guest room, Hermione sat on the edge of the bed, mind wandering as she gazed out at the beach where she would soon become a wife.
A knock on the door brought her out of her musings.
Turning, she saw the door creak open to reveal Ron with a very excited Shiloh in his arms. The moment the door was fully open, he let the three year-old down, and she ran straight across the room.
"Mummy! Mummy! Look at my dress!"
Hermione wrapped her arms around Shiloh before holding her at arm's length. She was dressed in a little white sundress with a sunflower pattern on the skirt. Her chestnut hair was in a plait, a yellow ribbon on the end.
"Did you get her dressed this morning?" Hermione shot an amused look at Ron, her eyebrows raised.
Ron seized up briefly, panic dancing in his eyes. "Why? Did I muck something up? You know I'm rubbish with her hair."
Hermione chuckled and inspected his handiwork. "Not at all, Ron. You did a really good job. Shiloh looks beyond beautiful today."
The little girl brought her hands to her mouth and giggled. "I'm beautiful, Mummy?"
"Of course you are, darling. The most beautiful. And so, so smart and brave. Did you behave for Uncle Ron?"
Shiloh nodded with solemnity, her little face suddenly serious. "Yes I did, Mummy. I even went to bed on time like you asked."
Ron jumped in. "It's true. She was a sweet little witch last night, this one." The two of them watched as Shiloh danced about the room, busying herself by plucking various beauty tools off the bedside table and inspecting them. "She's not the only beautiful one here, you know." Ron's ears turned pink as he spoke, but he pushed through his embarrassment. "You're a stunning bride, Hermione."
Hermione patted the spot on the bed beside her and Ron obliged her invitation.
"Since when have you been such a smooth talker, Ronald Weasley?"
He shrugged, ears still pink. "You tell me. I don't feel like one. When I talk to girls, half the time I still feel like I'm digging myself into a hole."
"Well then, you probably are."
Ron gave her a small shove with his shoulder. "Hey. You're my friend. You're supposed to be all supportive, aren't you?"
"So you'd rather me lie?"
"If it means bolstering me up a bit, then yeah."
Hermione shook her head, a smile spreading across her face. "You are infinitely smoother than you know, Ron. Some girl is going to be very lucky to have you." She patted his knee and leaned a head on his shoulder.
They sat together in silence, letting the sounds of the shoreline and Shiloh's imaginings fill their ears. It somehow felt like the culmination of their ten year friendship, sitting together on her wedding day. Hermione looked up at his freckled face. It was the face of someone she cared deeply for. The face of one of her best friends. Of her daughter's godfather.
Today, he seemed a bit wistful as he looked out the window, much as she had been doing before he arrived.
Ron was the first to break the silence. When he spoke, his ears weren't pink, but his hands were fidgeting in his lap. "I was upset with you for a really long time after everything that happened. Somehow, I'd convinced myself that it was going to be me who you would walk toward on your wedding day. And it took a long time to come to terms with that. But I'd be the world's biggest git if I wasn't happy for you now." He heaved a sigh and placed his hand over hers. "I'm glad you broke my heart, Hermione. Because seeing you with Mal—Draco, you two have something really special."
As Ron spoke, Hermione felt her eyes sting a little. She wiped away the wetness, sniffing a little.
"Ah, shit." Ron conjured a handkerchief and handed it to her. "I didn't mean to make you cry. Fleur and Ginny'll have my head if your make-up is smudged."
Through her tears, Hermione laughed as she dabbed at her face. "Ron, when on earth did you become so sensitive?"
He joined in the laughter. "Would you mind telling that to girls I take on dates? Because they think I'm about as thick as a brick, or so I've been told."
Hermione nearly snorted. "Whatever you like, Ron. Although I doubt very many girls would appreciate you dragging your female best friend along with you on dates."
He clucked his tongue and removed his hand from atop hers. "Yeah. I suppose you're right. Gotta do that sort of thing on my own." His eyes flickered back toward Shiloh, and Hermione looked as well.
She had found a tube of lipstick.
And smeared it all over her mouth.
And dress.
They both groaned.
Before Hermione could say a word, Ron summoned the lipstick and crossed the room to scoop up his goddaughter.
"Looks like I've got my work cut out for me. You take it easy, Hermione. I'll take this one to the loo, see if we can find her beneath all this muck."
Hermione chuckled to herself as Ron carried Shiloh out of the room. From down the hall, through the closed door, she heard the little girl's voice innocently ask, "Uncle Ron, do I look extra pretty?"
Although Hermione didn't hear an answer, she knew that whatever Ron said, it would make her smile. He really had grown up.
As she continued to wait, Hermione's mind wandered to her husband-to-be. Was he taking a sober-up potion now? He'd started taking them more often since Blaise came back into the picture. It wasn't as though Hermione minded, really. Especially today. It was his day to enjoy just as much as it was hers.
She couldn't wait to meet him at the end of the aisle. Couldn't wait to dance with him. Couldn't wait to steal bites off his spoon from the ice cream bar they had arranged. And when it was all over, she couldn't wait to take him to bed and continue their lives together.
As if he knew her thoughts—which he did so well these days—Hermione felt the space between her collar bones grow warm to the touch. Heat radiated from the pebble that hung there on a chain. Their pebble. It wasn't the most elegant of wedding jewelry, but it was something uniquely them. Narcissa had nearly thrown a fit when Hermione didn't accept an ornate diamond necklace to wear in its place. But this necklace meant more than any sum of galleons ever could.
The pebble warming meant only one thing.
He was thinking of her.
Hermione crossed the room and pulled out her beaded back, and from within, she summoned the journal she had so painstakingly created during the war. The worn corners and textured cover felt comforting as she ran her fingertips along it.
The pages were the same as ever. Notes and letters written during a period of painful separation and terrible war. It was filled with confessions that were romantic and sexual and fearful all intertwined. It was the story of them, told nearly from the beginning.
The journals had fallen out of use since the war ended, so entries were limited to the first few dozen pages. Hermione knew each and every page by heart. She'd catalogued them all in her memory. Memorised each word until they flowed across her eyelids as easily as silk.
That's why a certain page gave her pause. It wasn't one she recognised. A second glance revealed the date in the top right corner.
This morning.
Heart quickening, Hermione swallowed and opened the book fully in her lap. Her fingers traced the date and then the greeting, written in Draco's refined script.
Was that why her pebble had warmed? To tell her to check the journal? She couldn't help the grin that spread across her face as she pictured Draco, wherever he was, patiently waiting until the time was right to send her this message.
Dearest Hermione, my soon-to-be wife,
How long has it been since we've written to each other here? These are truly brilliant bits of magic. Did I ever tell you? But it comes as no surprise, because that's just what you are.
You're brilliant, Hermione. But not just for your mind. You're brilliant for your heart. For the love you show Shiloh. And Scorpius. And any other child we might welcome one day.
And for the way that you love me. It took me a long time to feel worthy of love. Even when I was cocky and strutted about Hogwarts like I owned it, I didn't know how wonderful it felt to really be loved by someone. Until I took my head out of my arse and was forced to really see you, I didn't know what that felt like.
I know I've messed up in the past and I know I'll mess up again in the future. There will be more heartbreak and tears, but there are so many things to look forward to as well. And knowing that you'll always be by my side makes it all the sweeter.
I still can't believe you agreed to marry me. Can't believe we have a beautiful daughter and a life that, in my darkest moments, I never thought possible. It's like a fever dream come true. Sometimes I'm afraid I'll wake up and I'll still be trapped in sixth year, terrified and alone.
But this isn't a dream. It's so incredibly real. You're real. And I promise to always love you and to never forget how you made this life possible for us.
Now, in just a few minutes, I'll meet you at the end of the aisle and we'll say our vows and be bound together. I thought about saying all this in front of our guests, but I wanted to save these words for the two of us.
I'll see you soon, love.
Your Draco
Hermione fought a wave of tears as she read through Draco's note three times. After the last, she summoned a quill and poised it over the parchment. They weren't allowed to see each other before the wedding, but there certainly wasn't a rule about writing to him.
She didn't have the time nor the wherewithal to write something quite as long as Draco, but she probably had a minute or two before her bridal party came to fetch her.
My soon-to-be husband,
I'm sure you only chose to write your true feelings down so that Harry and Ron won't have blackmail material for years to come. Draco Malfoy, the romantic, emotional man. You'd never hear the end of it.
I don't have much time to write. Looking out the window, I can see people are beginning to gather. Surely, you're straightening your tie and getting some sort of ridiculous pep talk from Theo.
I can't wait to walk toward you. Because that's where all of this has been leading. You, me, all these years… it's always been leading us here. To this moment. I wouldn't be anywhere else. Wouldn't want to be anyone but Hermione Malfoy.
I'll see you at the end of the aisle, love.
Hermione
She had barely shut the journal when the bridal party returned. Fleur came armed with another glass of champagne and some crackers and cheese. Ginny followed behind with a toothbrush.
"Ron managed to get everything off of Shiloh, but she did a bang-up job with that lipstick." Ginny gave her the news as she checked her teeth in the full-length mirror.
"I swear she gets more and more like Draco every day." Hermione stood still and allowed her hair and makeup to be touched-up. "Dramatic and attention-seeking."
"But at least she's cute." Ginny chuckled as she reapplied mascara.
Another knock on the door came, and this time, Harry poked his head in. His eyes landed on his wife first, and then slid over to Hermione. She beamed under his soft gaze.
"You look beautiful, Hermione." The boy who would have stammered and struggled to compliment her had gone, replaced by a confident man—a husband in his own right. "Draco's a lucky man."
Hermione left her spot by the mirror and crossed the room to wrap her arms around her best friend. The rest of the bridal party hung back as they clutched each other. As she took in the familiar, comforting feeling of his arms around her, Hermione thought, not for the first time, how lucky she was to have found such a wonderful brother in Harry.
"Nervous?" Harry tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
She shook her head. "No, I don't think so."
Harry's eyes flicked over his shoulder, and she knew he was looking over at Ginny. "I wasn't either. When you know it's right, you know."
"How very astute of you, Harry Potter."
Harry shrugged. "I have my moments." He checked his watch, eyebrows raised. "I've got to get down, but they're starting the procession in just a minute. See you there?"
Hermione offered a half smile. "Wouldn't miss it."
When Hermione, Ginny, Luna, and Fleur made it to the bottom of the stairs, Shell Cottage had already been cleared out. From the back door, they could see a small crowd gathered on the shore. Everyone was facing the water, awaiting her arrival.
The only people still waiting in the sitting room were two of Hermione's very favourites.
"Mum! Dad!" She hurried over to them as they rose from armchairs. On their faces were expressions that Hermione had only seen in her dreams these past few years. How often had she dreamt that they would look at her this way again? With warmth and affection and unconditional love? It nearly brought her to tears as her parents embraced her, whispering how lovely she looked and how proud of her they were.
It was all she wanted and more.
Still sniffing slightly, Mum excused herself to take a seat on the shore. Not long after, a gold spark appeared on the beach, shot up by Draco, himself.
It was time.
Dad stepped up to her side and held out his elbow.
"Ready, Hermione?"
Somehow, that step felt like the biggest of all.
She linked her elbow in her dad's and leaned on his shoulder. He kissed the curls on top of her head. As Dad regained his posture, she heard him sniff.
Turning her head, she wiped away the tear that trailed down her father's face.
"Dad, don't cry. It'll be okay."
He shook his head, reaching to pat the arm that was linked with his elbow. "My precious Hermione. Won't you allow your old dad a few tears?"
From the beach, the sounds of the processional music began. Fleur, Luna, and Ginny lined up to make their entrance.
"Your mum and I are so proud of you, darling. You've become such a wonderful woman."
Hermione couldn't stop smiling.
"Just promise me one thing, won't you?"
She nodded. "Sure, Dad."
"Promise me you'll do your best to be happy."
Outside, Ginny began to walk down the aisle. Tears gathered in the corners of Hermione's eyes. It was their turn. It was time.
"I promise, Dad. We're so happy."
Dad straightened, giving one final sniff. "Then let's get you married."
From the moment they stepped out into the June sunshine, every eye turned in her direction. There weren't a great number of guests. Just enough to make Hermione feel loved by everyone in the room. She was surrounded by all the people she cared most about in the world. Friends, teachers, and family… they were all here to watch her get married.
As she walked down the aisle, she saw the back of a blonde head in the front row.
Narcissa.
There was no one beside her.
So Lucius had decided not to come.
Hermione wasn't particularly surprised, but she was disappointed for Draco.
There were so many special people who were present to witness the moment, but as she continued her journey, Hermione could help but take note of those who weren't.
Tonks and Professor Lupin.
They'd have been here with Teddy, watching with pride as he scattered flowers up the aisle with Shiloh.
Fred.
Surely, he and George would have tried to pull a prank today. Or taken the mickey out of Draco at the very least.
Colin Creevy.
Perhaps he'd've been their wedding photographer.
Sirius.
Hermione had never been particularly close to him. The weight of his absence had been particularly heavy at Harry and Ginny's wedding. Still, it would have been nice to see someone try to wrestle him into dress robes. She could almost picture his scowl.
Scorpius.
Her sweet baby boy. He would have been nearly three years-old. Talking. Running about. Dressed in tiny dress robes. Would he have been clingy like Shiloh? At that age, she hardly liked to be put down. Maybe Hermione would have had to hold him through the ceremony.
Just thinking about it made her arms feel empty.
An ocean breeze floated past, filling her lungs with salty air. It kissed her cheeks and she closed her eyes for half a second to savour it.
Scorpius was here. They all were. Even if it wasn't physically. They were here in the sunshine and the wind and in the smiles on everyone's faces.
It was at that moment, with her heart full of love, that Hermione's eyes finally landed on Draco.
He stood at the end of the aisle, as promised. And although her eyes had only just found him, his eyes were trained on her like she was the only one he could see. The only one there. As she drew closer, Hermione saw tears pooling in those depths.
The man at the end of the aisle had come so far from the boy who used to tease her. He had grown into someone who was kind and open to growth. Someone who had so much love to give, and for some miraculous reason, wanted to give it to her.
Dad stopped at the end of the aisle. He unlatched their elbows, and with one final kiss to her forehead, brought her hand to Draco's. The feeling of his fingers lacing through hers was like coming home.
"You two take care of each other. Understand?"
Draco gave a solemn nod to his father-in-law. "Yes sir. We will."
Dad patted Draco's back and took his seat.
And then it was just them.
The officiant was none other than Minerva McGonagall. Hermione had been hesitant to ask their old professor to marry them, but after receiving an enthusiastic response to her inquiry by owl, she knew they made the right choice. Minerva's mouth, normally set in a thin line, had a wide upturn as she greeted the crowd.
Hermione tried to focus on her words and stay in the moment, but standing next to Draco, knowing she was about to become his wife, was enough to drive her to plenty of distraction.
The ceremony itself was short. After drinking from the same goblet, she and Draco repeated a set of vows that only differed slightly from the Muggle version she'd heard in movies before. They had opted not to write their own vows, knowing that Draco, especially, wasn't one to wear his emotions on his sleeve.
But an odd thing happened as Draco repeated after Minerva. In her ears, Hermione heard Draco's words, but inside her head, the new page from her two-way journal appeared.
Legillimancy. Like he had saved her life with the skill before, he was now using it to share private emotions.
I still can't believe you agreed to marry me. Can't believe we have a beautiful daughter and a life that, in my darkest moments, I never thought possible. It's like a fever dream come true. Sometimes I'm afraid I'll wake up and I'll still be trapped in sixth year, terrified and alone.
But this isn't a dream. It's so incredibly real. You're real. And I promise to always love you and to never forget how you made this life possible for us.
By the time it was her turn to repeat her vows, tears were flowing freely down her face. She could hardly get through a single sentence without hiccoughing or sniffing. In the moment, she wished she knew Legillimancy. Wished that she could project secret thoughts into Draco's mind.
As she spoke her vows, her eyes never left his. Somehow, though she couldn't use Legillimancy, Draco knew exactly what she wanted to say to him.
That she loved him unconditionally.
That she would continue to love him.
"I know," he mouthed to her as Minerva began the final part of the ceremony—the binding.
With her wand, Minerva conjured a gold cloth. The headmistress wrapped it intricately around their wrists, with knots tied tight enough that she couldn't quite tell where she ended and Draco began.
"And now, by the magic that flows in my veins and yours, I declare you wed."
The cloth vanished in a shower of sparks. In its place, two gold bands appeared—one on each of their ring fingers.
Hermione watched Draco inspect his hand with a tentative smile and wonder in his eyes. Her eyes dropped to her hand as well. The ring shone in the summer sun. It added a new weight to her hand. Foreign, but right. When she looked up at Draco again, disbelief and joy danced in his eyes. They were blazing. And then he pulled Hermione to him, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing his lips firmly to hers.
The crowd erupted in cheers.
Hermione melted into the kiss—the first of many they would share as the new Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy. It was rare that Draco kissed her in public with such fervor, let alone kissed her at all. But he didn't hold back as he pulled her flush against him and nipped at her bottom lip, asking for permission.
It wasn't until his tongue slipped into her mouth that she heard a wolf whistle. George, most likely. They broke apart, and Hermione noticed a healthy pink flush on Draco's cheeks.
Recessional music filled the air, and Hermione couldn't stop the grin that spread all across her face as Shiloh rushed up toward her, arms flung wide open.
Hermione bent down and scooped her up her daughter, holding her close.
"Are you married now?" Shiloh asked, holding her arms out to Draco as soon as she was lifted into the air.
He laughed, kissing her cheek. "We are, pixie. Mummy and I are married."
The four year-old scrunched up her face for a minute as though thinking very hard.
"Does that mean I'm married too?"
Those close enough to hear her words chuckled.
"That's not quite how it works, love."
The three of them posed for a few photos before Ron stepped in and took over with godfather duties, promising sweeties if she promised to walk to the reception area without going in the ocean and ruining her dress.
While the majority of the guests headed to a small grouping of tables on the sand, a few people stayed behind to take photos. Hermione and Draco took a rather formal photo with Narcissa and a slightly more relaxed one with her parents.
The photos with the bridal party and groomsmen were fun. Hermione's favourite shot was a fun idea their photographer had—Draco, surrounded by Theo and Blaise on one side and Harry and Ron on the other. Hermione couldn't hear exactly what the boys were saying to her husband, but his face fluctuated somewhere between embarrassment and horror as the camera clicked away.
She couldn't wait to frame that one and put it in her office.
By the time they finished with photographs and had made the rounds to every table, Hermione was famished. Her whole body felt a bit droopy as she and Draco trudged to their table for two. The sun was sitting low on the horizon by now, painting the beach reception in hues of orange and pink.
Neville was kind enough to bring them each a plate before heading out to the dance floor to join Hannah and Theo. Hermione ate like a woman possessed, shoveling mouthfuls of potatoes in her mouth and draining her wine glass within minutes.
"Slow down, love." Draco chuckled as he gently moved a roast potato onto the back of his fork. "We've got all night to enjoy this."
She snorted. "Are you kidding? We've got the first dance soon."
"And then?"
Hermione's eyebrow quirked. "And then what? And then we've got to continue greeting guests."
Draco shook his head back and forth. "Hermione, love. This is our night. We can do whatever we want."
"What happened to all the social rules your mother taught you to follow? Surely she'd be disappointed if her son and daughter-in-law weren't the perfect party hosts."
"Honestly, my mother is the last person I want to think about right now. Not when all I can imagine is getting you out of your dress later tonight."
Any need to hurry was gone in an instant, her body now finely attuned to the way Draco's voice had gotten lower, now almost a growl. When he pressed a soft kiss to her pulse point, her breath caught in her throat.
Why had she ever cared about being the perfect host, anyway?
Beneath the table, Hermione's hand moved to rest on Draco's thigh. She heard his sharp intake of breath as her hand moved higher and higher…
"And now, ladies and gentlemen, it is time for the first dance of the new Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy." George had volunteered to act as emcee for the night, and his voice interrupted their private moment with what Hermione considered to be a rude abruptness.
Quick as a snitch, her hands were back in her own lap. She was sure her face was pink.
Turning her head, she was relieved to see that Draco still had some level of decorum. Or at least the outward appearance of it. He stood and held his hand out to her, offering her a gentle smile. Still a bit flustered, she accepted it.
All eyes were on them as they made their way to the center of the dance floor, now clear of anyone else. Once they took their place in the center of the room, music began to fill the air. A waltz. They had been practicing in their living room. Draco, of course, was well-practised in the art of these sorts of things. Hermione had stepped on his toes a fair amount at first.
And while practise didn't necessarily make perfect, it certainly made improvements. They glided around the room with ease, eyes never leaving each other. It felt odd, knowing that everyone was watching them, but then again, what did she have to be self-conscious about?
She had been through so much pain in her life. They both had. So many at this wedding had suffered. They all deserved joy.
When the song ended and was replaced by a much faster dance—a jig this time, people began to trickle back onto the dance floor until it was overflowing with guests once more. Ginny and Harry danced to her right and Neville twirled Hannah on the other side. Across the dance floor, she could see Mr. and Mrs. Weasley in each other's arms and her own parents bobbing along to the beat.
Her eyes found Draco's again. They were trained on her, intense as they moved together. When was the last time they danced together? Had it been all those years ago in that Irish pub in Ottery St. Catchpole? That had been all the way back when they had barely shared a kiss.
Now, they shared so much.
Draco's fingers curled around her waist. He pulled her close as they moved their hips to the music. The beat was infectious, and Hermione looked up at Draco to smile. But when her eyes found his, her heart stuttered and her lips parted instead.
Draco was not thinking innocent thoughts. That much was clear from the way he watched her. She knew him by heart, and this was the sort of look he gave her when he was turned on.
The evidence of his arousal pressed eagerly against her stomach as they continued to dance, pressing closer together with each passing second. Draco leaned down to press kisses into her pulse point. His breath on her neck was hot and heavy, and she was surely panting, too.
"We can't," she whispered in his ear as his lips traveled up her jaw. "We're hosting—they'll know."
"Let them know," he growled, nipping at her skin. "Let them know that I'm off fucking my wife."
A shiver ran up Hermione's spine and her thighs rubbed together.
She didn't need more convincing.
The crowd had grown rowdy around them, and Hermione was sure that no one would miss them as Draco threaded his fingers through her and began to lead her through the crowd. The only eyes she caught were Ginny's. The matron of honour gave her a knowing wink. She probably should have blushed or looked away, but she was so giddy that all she could do was grin like a lovesick idiot.
Thankfully, no one stopped them as they made their way up the shore to Shell Cottage. Hermione felt like a teenager again, sneaking off with her randy boyfriend to fool around in broom closets. But she wasn't a teenager, and the man leading her was not her boyfriend anymore.
He was her husband.
She expected him to lead them inside the cottage, perhaps up to the guest room where she got ready that morning. Or perhaps, if they were feeling particularly impatient, at least to the couch. Bill and Fleur didn't have to know.
They didn't even get that far.
As soon as they were over the dune that separated Shell Cottage from the shore, Draco's lips were on hers, insistent and eager. All other sounds of the party drowned away, as did all of her other senses. All she could feel, see, taste… it was all Draco. He was overwhelming and everywhere, and it ignited her body into flames.
Draco walked her backward toward the cottage as his lips traveled down her jawline.
"Do you remember the first time I was inside you, Mrs. Malfoy?" He whispered the words between nips. "Because I'll never forget it. Tell me you remember."
Hermione tilted her head back as his mouth continued to move down, making its way past her collar bones and toward the valley of her breasts. Her brain was short-circuiting, but she managed to give a breathy answer.
"Of course I re-remember. It was at B-Bill and Fleur's wedding."
Draco pushed the sweetheart neckline of her dress down past her breasts and took a nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue. Hermione keened.
"And do you remember—" Draco looked up from her chest. "—how I took you that night?"
Memories flashed past Hermione's eyelids. Memories of a near-frenetic energy. Of cushioning charms and leaves all around them.
"I'm gonna fuck you just like that. At our own wedding." He took her other breast into his mouth as his hands traveled down. Without looking, Draco's fingers found the hem of her white dress, and he rucked it up around her waist. Hermione adjusted her arms to pull the fabric out of the way. It was only then that Draco's mouth left her breast. He pulled back and drank her in. Even in the darkness that came just after sunset, she could see that his pupils were blown, filled with need.
She half-expected him to unbuckle his trousers and take her right then. Her whole body clenched in anticipation, and she was surprised when he didn't meet her expectations.
The whine that escaped her throat was involuntary, and it made Draco chuckle.
"Eager, aren't you? Well you'll just have to wait a little longer for the main event." He lowered himself onto his knees. "I've got other plans for you."
With practised skill, he slid her white lace knickers down her legs, helping her step out of them before placing them in his back pocket.
Hermione knew she wouldn't be seeing those knickers for the rest of the night. Every inch of her skin tingled, and her hips jerked forward as Draco lifted one leg over his shoulder.
"You are so beautiful everywhere, Hermione." He began kissing up her inner thigh. "But you are especially beautiful here." He paused, his face just an inch away from her dripping cunt.
Draco kissed her all around, carefully avoiding the place she needed most. He was teasing her, and she moaned into the night air in frustration. When he finally licked a stripe up her centre, she keened, her hips moving of their own accord when his lips and tongue settled directly over her clit. He lapped at her and sucked just the way she liked, and pressure began jolting through her body.
"Draco…"
He sucked harder, adding a finger to fill her.
It was all Hermione could do to remain standing. Her arms, which held her dress aloft, threatened to spasm and let the garment fall over Draco's head, but she held firm.
Draco's mouth and tongue never ceased, like he was a man possessed, and it wasn't long before it felt as though she was floating higher and higher, speeding headlong toward a precipice. Draco didn't relent, his enthusiasm only increasing as her moans grew breathier and more desperate.
Suddenly she was free-falling, her cunt clenching around his fingers and lips. And though she couldn't see his face, she knew that he was smiling against her.
Hermione barely had time to come down from her high before she heard the clink of a belt buckle. Draco had lowered her leg and moved from his position on the ground. He towered over her again, looking down with her come glistening around his lips.
Hermione pulled Draco down by the tie until their lips met. She had to taste him—taste herself on his tongue. This only seemed to egg Draco on further. In a flash, his trousers were around his ankles and he had her pinned against the wall of Shell Cottage. She could feel the familiar thickness of his cock brushing against her entrance.
She was done waiting.
"Fuck me," she whispered against his lips. "Fuck your wife.'
The next second, he was inside her. It had been so long since he had taken her like this. Maybe even five years. Last time, they had been so frantic, knowing they would have to say goodbye. Knowing that danger laid ahead. Not knowing if they would ever see each other again.
Now, all they had was time. All they had was their entire lives together.
Draco set the pace. It wasn't particularly fast, but it was intense, like he was trying to savour the feeling of them together. He dragged against her walls with purpose, pushing back in all at once. The sounds of skin against skin joined their moans, and it was evident that it was all Draco could do to hang on.
He brought his lips to her nipple again, and Hermione squirmed under the stimulation. The tugging on her breast and the friction between her legs began to create another wave within her. It built higher and higher as Draco's pace increased. When he was close, his mouth moved from her chest to rest against her ear. There, he whispered dirty nonsense nonstop until they were both desperate for release.
All at once, Hermione's orgasm came crashing over her. She clenched down on Draco's cock, and he came with a moan, pulsing inside of her. His hips stuttered against hers a few more times before they finally stilled.
Draco's head dropped onto her shoulder. He sighed.
"Love you, Mrs. Malfoy. My wife."
A soft smile grew on Hermione's face. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "I love you too, husband."
If anyone suspected what they had been doing against the wall of Shell Cottage, no one said anything. After cleaning themselves up (as suspected, Hermione didn't get her knickers back), they strolled back to the reception, hand in hand, husband and wife.
I do love some good wedding smut. I wanted it to feel parallel in many ways to the very first time they were together at Bill and Fleur's wedding. Only... now they're more experienced. *eyebrow waggle*
Also, like I said last chapter, I love writing Shiloh. She's got such a little personality all her own.
There are only 5 chapters left. I'm hoping to speed up some behind the scenes work to bring you chapters every week instead of every other week. I'll keep you updated on how that goes. It's so bittersweet to be closing up this little universe I've concocted in my head and decided to share with you all.
Take care, everyone! - Biscuits