Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction using characters and elements from the world of Harry Potter, created and trademarked by JK Rowling. I do not claim ownership over any Harry Potter characters or the Harry Potter world. This story is for entertainment purposes only, and is not claiming to be any part of the Harry Potter canon. Thank you to JK Rowling for letting me play with the characters and not suing me for writing them into a new situation.
Light of the Moon
Chapter 19
Pheme had outdone herself.
Hermione had wanted a wedding dress that was elegant and simple, but she hadn't been allowed to choose. Actually, she hadn't even been allowed to look. When she'd dared to approach Steward Aidos about the wedding preparations, she'd been given a huffy look and questioned reproachfully on whether or not she trusted the House Steward to make all the necessary arrangements.
Deciding it was the better part of valor to let the Steward arrange things as she saw fit, Hermione was reassured by Astoria's assertions that they could always magically alter the dress to something she was more comfortable with. In the end, though, they hadn't had to change a single thing.
When Pheme had levitated the huge mass of delicately embroidered fabrics into the room after Hermione had her ceremonial cleansing bath, Hermione had felt a brief moment of fear.
But looking at herself in the mirror, covered in miles of the most beautiful pale champagne-colored lace, she decided that if there had ever been a gown to make a peasant feel like a queen, this was it.
The heavy fabric shimmered the palest golds and silvers under the lights, and it moved gracefully along with her with every step she took. The matching cloak was lined with soft, luxurious satin, but Pheme refused to let her put the hood up.
The little elf had perched atop the very highest stool in order to carefully set each of Hermione's beautiful curls into an elegant loose twist. Wearing the hood would cover up all of her hard work.
Pheme had also done something to the dress to make it weightless. It should have been heavy, with a small fortune in jewels—what Hermione hoped were crystals, but were probably diamonds—sewn in intricate designs the entire length of it. Instead, it was soft and light and Hermione rather felt like it was a dress she could dance all night in.
The elf claimed she'd done nothing to Hermione's skin but give it a bit of a glow, but the woman that looked back at her in the mirror was regal and beautiful and Hermione knew it couldn't have been just the dress.
Pheme had beamed up at Hermione, having shrunk the stool back down to a normal size. "Steward Aidos had wanted silver to match the Silver Crown, but Pheme heard His Majesty say he liked Mistress in golds, and Pheme thinks this color looks the most beautiful with Mistress's rosy skin and dark hair." So saying, the little elf had taken a moment to sigh in pleasure at her handiwork.
The sigh had given way to a sudden outpouring of tears. When questioned, the little elf had wailed about how Mistress was going to become Queen, and Pheme could never be honored enough to serve the Queen, and Aidos would make her go back to guiding foreign guests around the castle.
"Mistress will not forget Pheme?" she sobbed into Hermione's train, the tears magically dissipating before they could leave watermarks on the fabric.
It was Astoria who picked the little thing up. "Pheme, Steward Aidos has trusted you to serve Her Ladyship as she prepares for her wedding day—the most important day of her entire life! I'm sure you have nothing to fear about where you will serve after the wedding."
Pheme had sniffled and looked up at Hermione with hopeful eyes.
Though it galled Hermione to encourage such a subservient attitude, she said, "You are such a help to me, Pheme, I wouldn't dream of turning you away just because I have a new title." She knelt the tiniest bit, to bring her face closer to the elf's, and added, solemnly, "In a land where I have few allies and fewer friends, I will always treasure the help and the support of someone I can trust."
Pheme had bawled even harder then, tugging on her ears, but the smile on her face made it clear she was very pleased at the kind remarks.
As Hermione stood in that magnificent gown in front of thousands of the highest-ranking nobles of Ophidia, in a Great Hall that had been magically extended and brilliantly decorated, she reflected on the truth of her statement.
Truly, she had very few friends in her new country. The quickness of the wedding ceremony had made it very difficult to arrange for any of her Brittanian friends to make the arrangements to travel internationally, and what she wouldn't give to have her two very best friends in the audience. She wasn't even certain all of her owls had been received, as she had yet to hear from anyone she had written to.
Luna would soon be returning home, and she had promised to check in on Harry and the Weasleys, and also to bring some personal letters to her parents. In them, Hermione promised to come home to visit and to explain further, as soon as she could possibly make the arrangements. She knew her parents would be terribly sad to have missed such an important event in their daughter's lives.
But being Muggles, they had missed many important events. Just another casualty of Hermione's life as a witch.
Astoria had promised to remain in Ophidia for several more months. Her new status as one of the Queen's closest advisors was enough to temporarily overcome her wanderlust and her desire for adventure. The influence of the Greengrasidi family had increased enormously in the last three weeks, and Ser Greengrasidi had been overheard to say that his youngest daughter was by far the one he was most proud of.
Rumor had it that even the Malfoy family had deigned to hint at the possibility of a marriage alliance between their houses. Astoria had scoffed at the idea, much to Hermione's relief. She still planned to go out and see the world and was ready to hare off to Sweden in search of fantastic beasts, once Hermione was more settled into her new role.
And that would leave Hermione with only…the King—her Tom.
She chanced a glance at the handsome man standing next to her. His ceremonial black dress robes were the finest wool, with intricate designs stitched all over them in a light golden color that matched her dress. Like the furniture in her suite, Hermione suspected the designs were actually runes, as she could nearly feel the power emanating from him though he was merely standing at her side.
On his head was a thin, silver circlet, showing up bright against the dark ebony of his hair.
He caught her quick look, and she thought she saw the hint of a smile from him, the slightest softening of his solemn expression.
She wondered if he was reading her mind, after all, as she imagined his expression said that if he was the only ally she had in the entire country, it would be enough.
Their hands were clasped, placed on the marble pedestal in front of them as they faced the extremely large audience that had gathered to witness their union, and he gave her palm the slightest squeeze.
Not caring about the audience that was watching them closely, or what part of the ancient ritual the priest was speaking, she smiled fully up at him and clasped his hand tighter, before trying to return her attention to the ceremony.
It was mostly in Greek, and though Hermione had done enough research to know what was happening, she couldn't stop her mind from wandering off.
She looked at their hands. On the same pedestal were the ritual offerings to the gods and the goddesses for their blessing on their union. In addition to the locks of their hair that lay together, the Heart of Ophidia stood in the center, representing the Great Lady.
Since having the Mark of Ophidia placed on her arm, Hermione had found herself drawn more and more often to this token. She'd taken to removing it from the shelf at night and shaking it to watch the pebbles float in the water. Sometimes she'd spend so long staring at it, wondering what it was and why she sometimes felt that hum of power from it, that she'd forget to go to sleep and would stay up long into the night. As the entire country seemed to run late, her habit of sleeping well into the morning was not considered at all unusual. She kept her drapes drawn while she slept so the sun wouldn't wake her.
Her dreams were full of wispy shadows that she couldn't remember in the morning light.
She stared into the water, noting how the rocks glinted as the light bounced off tiny metallic flakes. The sound of a woman singing tickled at her memory.
Once again, she lost track of the time, and suddenly she felt a warmth spiral up from where her hands were held by the King's.
She gasped. Beside her, she heard Tom take a deep breath as well. As she looked at him, she thought she saw his eyes flash with light. The ceremony was complete, and the magic flowing through them was the evidence of their union.
She didn't feel any different. Slightly less, perhaps, like she'd just expended a lot of energy. She took several deep breaths to compensate for the disorienting feeling, as the audience applauded, trying not to blink too rapidly into the blinding flashes from the photographers.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Steward Aidos standing off to the side, resplendent in her own gown, also black, with the Mark of Ophidia and the crest of House Marvolo on each shoulder as a sign of her office.
The slight frown on the Steward's face forced Hermione to recall the strict instructions she'd been given for the next portion of the ceremony. The wedding completed, the King was now to crown his new Queen.
So, she turned towards her new husband as the priest left and the pedestal was removed. She just remembered to grab the Heart, it's heavy weight feeling very comfortable in her hands. She felt little pulses, as of electricity, and the Heart felt warm to her, but she wasn't sure if it was simply her nerves.
The wedding was important, and she was sure it would hit her fully much later that she was married and had a husband. But it was this simple coronation that was going to make her a Queen and give her authority in the land.
It was everything Hermione wanted: a purpose, the ability to do good, a partner she could trust. Her heart beat incredibly fast as she took the steps towards her husband.
As the King was several inches taller, the Steward had decided it wasn't necessary for her to kneel, which was good because Pheme would have wailed about crushing her dress.
Steward Aidos stood beside the King, a small black-clad figure in his shadow. In her arms was a pillow, also black. She held it up high, trying to mask her excitement with an expression of appropriate solemnity.
"Hermione Jean Granger, once of Brittania," Tom began. She still wasn't entirely used to the shiver she got down her back whenever he said her name. "The Mark on your arm now declares you a proper daughter of Ophidia. Your name, now Hermione Riddle, declares that you are my wife, a Consort to the King." Taking the circlet from the pillow held by the Steward, he said, "This Silver Crown now declares you a servant to the people, a judge of the realm, a guardian of the land and of the Great Lady—a Queen of Ophidia."
In answer, she repeated the formal words she had been instructed to say. "I accept this honor and this responsibility, to be a Daughter of the land, a Mother to the people, a Wife and partner to the King, and a Guardian of the Great Lady."
Where she hadn't so much as trembled during her wedding vows, her voice shook as she bowed her head so he could gently place the circlet over her curls. Hermione was sure that somewhere Pheme was sighing in relief that her elf-magic had held up.
Turning to face the crowd, she felt something inside her align and blend. A warmth spread all through her, bright and good and exciting, and the feel of it bubbling inside, filling her, made her laugh in delight. The sound was lost in the cheering of the crowd, but she grinned up at her new husband just as he covered her mouth with his own.
For the briefest moment, as her King kissed his Queen for the first time, and that wave of wonder encompassed them both, everything else was drowned out.
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