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 20
Hermione had been right about the dress. It was very light, and once the train had been magically shortened, she really could dance in it all night. At least, she could if people didn't keep stopping them every few turns to try to ingratiate themselves with the new Queen while also trying to get a few minutes of the King's attention.
Tom was very patient with all the well-wishers who interrupted them as they waltzed their way around the floor. He agreed with everyone who effusively complimented his beautiful bride, flashing them a charming smile and shooting Hermione an indulgent look.
One particularly cunning citizen made sure to compliment her intellect and her magical prowess. Hermione made sure to give him her best smile for recognizing her value was not simply in her appearance.
When the wizard observed that watching her solve the riddle must have been a sight to behold, Tom had grinned at her and only said, drolly, "Indeed it was, Ser Rookwood. Positively eye-opening."
She laughed at his subtle reference to the oculus and the careless way she'd blasted the glass apart, and she thanked Ser Rookwood for his kind words.
Several of the guests Hermione recognized from her jaunts in Vertic Alley, and she enjoyed seeing their faces light up when she remembered them all by name. But when they tried to give her more gifts—"Oh, just tokens really!"—Tom just waved them away towards the house-elves who were gathering colorfully wrapped packages into a big pile on a large table.
It pleased Hermione that Tom kept her hand in his for the whole night. There was a lovely low thrumming in her veins whenever he touched her, something that clicked, like a key turning in a lock, like the feeling when the last piece of a puzzle was put into place. It made her feel giddy, a bit silly, and from the uncommonly free expression on Tom's face, she imagined he felt the same. She hoped so.
The only time he gave her up, reluctantly, was when Ser Slughorn came pressuring her for a dance.
"Now, now, no excuses, m'boy, you'll have her the rest of the night! I just want the one dance!"
So, Hermione had let him parade her around the dance floor, laughing at his enthusiasm. He was already in his cups, so he was noticeably off the beat, but Hermione didn't mind.
During their last turn around the dance floor, Hermione spotted Lady Carrow standing next to Tom, a coquettish look on her round face.
The unpleasant woman laughed and lightly hit Tom on the arm in a flirtatious manner. Her far too casual behavior towards the King made Hermione grit her teeth in annoyance.
Did the woman not recognize when she had lost?
To his credit, Tom appeared entirely unmoved.
Turning back to her partner, Hermione finished her dance and then let Ser Slughorn escort her back to the King's side. She was just in time to catch the end of their conversation.
"Of course, you have my full devotion," the noblewoman said, her eyes implying that there was much more available to him if he should so choose.
"Lady Carrow," Hermione greeted her, smiling coldly as she came up beside Tom. She placed one hand possessively on her husband's arm. "I'm so pleased to hear you say that. I'll be sure to remember it." With a slightly suggestive tilt of her head, she added, "My memory is very good, so I'm certain I won't forget what you've said."
By the way Lady Carrow's fake smile faltered a bit, Hermione assumed she heard the veiled threat and did not misunderstand the reference to their previous conversations. There was the tiniest flash of anger in the woman's eyes before she nodded at the couple as if in acknowledgement, and gathered her skirts as if to leave.
The King's next words stopped her. "Your words do you honor, Lady Carrow."
She turned back to smile at him, a more genuine smile than the one she gave to Hermione.
"Others would do well to learn from your example," he continued casually. "Perhaps you've heard how I recently had to discipline a member of this younger generation of the nobility." He brushed at what might have been a speck of lint on his shoulder, before turning his piercing gaze onto her. His voice was just a little harder, the tiniest bit colder. "So crass, so disrespectful—to my Queen, and therefore to me. I sincerely hope I will not have to … give any further lessons. My patience does have limits."
Lady Carrow's face paled, her eyes widening. "I—I understand, Your Majesty." Her voice was barely audible. Jerkily, she made a quick curtsy, avoiding further eye contact with either the King or the newly crowned Queen.
"Lady Carrow!" Ser Slughorn's cheery voice boomed.
In her haste to confront the nasty woman, Hermione had forgotten he was there.
Ser Slughorn held out a hand to the lady, one foot turned up in the semblance of a bow. "Would you do me the honor of a turn about the dance floor?"
Under other circumstances, Hermione thought Lady Carrow would have turned up her nose in disdain at the frumpy older man. Instead, she seemed grateful for the excuse to leave His Majesty's watchful presence.
"Of course, Ser Slughorn." Her voice quavered. She quickly took his hand and let him lead her away.
Miraculously, no well-wishers appeared in their wake to try to claim the King's attention.
Tom placed his hand over hers where she held onto his arm. It gave her the courage to say the question that was on the tip of her tongue.
"Would you really, Tom?" Her voice didn't carry far, but she knew that he heard her. "To Lady Carrow?"
He didn't look at her. But he also didn't remove his hand from where it was slowly caressing her fingers. "I will always do what I must to achieve the results I require," he said, gravely.
She tried not to think of Lady Carrow writhing in pain under the Cruciatus Curse. She may hate the woman, but she could never wish such a thing on anyone. "And if I asked you not to?"
She wanted to take back the question as soon as she asked it. It was silly to think she could influence his choices after only a few weeks. The silence between them stretched as the dancers whirled by laughing gaily.
"With every day that passes, Hermione," he finally said, "I begin to believe I would give you whatever your heart desires."
So saying, he lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to the inside of her gloved wrist. It sent a warmth coursing through her, anticipation of what his lips would soon feel like on her bare skin.
But she thought it would have been nicer if he'd at least smiled when he said the words that went along with the gesture.
Traditionally, an entourage of women would accompany the Ophidian bride as she retired to her room to prepare herself for her husband. There would be laughter, wine, and good-natured ribbing.
But this wasn't a normal wedding, and Hermione had very few friends that she would want with her on such an occasion.
She took only one with her when she retired to the Queen's suite.
Luna, resplendent in a pale yellow dress with a hundred flounces that seemed to resemble her long, curly hair, lounged in a chair beside the bed, watching as Pheme carefully helped Hermione out of her wedding dress.
"Her Majesty," Pheme said, a title she'd already used a dozen times, having become enamored of the sound of it, "will be so pleased to know that Steward Aidos has permanently assigned Pheme to serve the Queen!"
At the word 'serve,' Hermione winced, but she quickly cleared the expression from her face to avoid trampling on the little elf's elation.
"Pheme is so excited! Pheme will be a wonderful and loyal house-elf, and Her Majesty will be so happy to have Pheme's help with her hair and her clothes and the shopping and all the babies!"
The champagne-colored gown was easily replaced with a soft nightdress of gold satin, and Hermione blushed at the mention of babies. Strangely, there had been no talk of bearing an heir to the Ophidian throne, but she supposed it would be expected of her eventually.
Talk of babies reminded her of something, though. "Pheme, I couldn't help but think that if you accompany me frequently, you'll have to spend much more time with Ioke, since he serves the King."
At the mention of the King's elf, Pheme paused in her efforts to reset Hermione's hair into a more casual, but elegant, updo. Hermione could see her little face scrunch up in distaste.
"Now, Pheme," Hermione said, amused, "he doesn't seem so bad. The King obviously thinks very highly of him to have him placed in such a high position."
Pheme scowled. "Ioke does not speak to Pheme. He stares at Pheme. Arrogant, he is. Thinks he is so important." She harrumphed, a strangely irreverent sound coming from such an otherwise respectful elf. "Pheme is important now, too."
Luna and Hermione exchanged small grins.
"Perhaps he is just shy," Luna offered, having been apprised of the speculation about the two elves.
Pheme's face indicated that she did not believe that to be the case. But she said nothing more as she left to see if the King was ready to have his bride escorted to him.
Alone now with just her childhood friend, Hermione looked at herself in the mirror. It was hard to believe that less than a month ago she was sitting at a desk at the Ministry wondering if she was ever going to make something of her life. Now she was married and would soon be ruling an entire country of wizards. Her life had changed drastically in such a short time.
Luna came to stand beside her, and the two girls looked into their reflections, making silly faces.
Hermione laughed, feeling some of the tension of the high-profile ceremonies finally begin to dissipate. She reached up to pat her hair, noting the soft curls framing her face, and thought that Pheme really did such marvelous work with it. No one else had ever understood her hair's unique personality.
The Silver Crown had already been put away. It was only used for very formal occasions, and she hadn't yet determined where it was supposed to be stored. The fancy wardrobe with the glass doors where she had been keeping a few important items seemed like the best place for it.
She turned away from the mirror, and took the Heart of Ophidia from where she'd set it on the small desk, and she placed it in its usual spot on the highest shelf, beside the crown that now rested there.
For a moment, she stared at it, still unable to put her finger on its magic. Was it a token? Was it a talisman? She felt such an affinity for it, a reluctance to set it aside, that had only gotten stronger since the ceremony earlier that evening.
She would ask Tom if he would tell her more about it. Tomorrow. Surely, he didn't expect her to carry it around with her on their wedding night.
As she closed the glass doors, she saw in the reflection that Luna was still carefully watching her.
"It's not too late, you know," Luna said, her high voice chirping with optimism. "You can still run if you want to. I'd cover your back."
Hermione laughed at the absurd picture of the two of them dashing through the corridors, her with her fancy nightrobe flowing behind her. Luna didn't actively try to discourage her, but she occasionally brought up those same doubts they'd discussed those weeks ago in the Library of Ophidia, wanting to make absolutely certain that this new life was Hermione's choice.
"Considering I've magically bound my soul in matrimony to Tom, and I've been crowned Queen in front of the entire Kingdom, we've probably passed the point of no return."
Luna tilted her head, the expression in her eyes still solemn, not conceding the point. "Don't forget the tattoo."
They hadn't mentioned the Mark of Ophidia that stood boldly on her forearm. It was plain to see during the ceremony, due to her sleeveless dress. She had not worn gloves, then. It had seemed prudent for the country to see that she was truly dedicated to them—that she had thrown off her allegiances to Brittania.
She looked at it now, and then at Luna's unsmiling face. "You disapprove?"
With her fingers, Hermione traced over the edges of the pattern, following the serpent's body as it coiled around the skull. She thought it felt a little bit warm. It was ... comforting. No wonder she had seen so many people often tracing theirs through their sleeves.
"Every step you take binds you, and now you are well and truly tied to this course," Luna said, resignedly. She sighed, glancing around the opulent room before returning to look at Hermione in her luxurious nightdress. With some sympathy, she said, "Ophidia is very wondrous. It seems to weave a spell around you. Even I feel a reluctance to return home to Brittania, and if it weren't for missing my father, I might consider staying here just a little longer."
Luna paused, and Hermione couldn't help the sudden sensation that this would be the last time she would see Luna for quite a while. After Luna left in the morning, her last tie to her old life would be gone, and it would only be her and the Ophidians. Even the prospect of Astoria's new friendship wasn't enough to compete with the specter of loneliness that loomed on the horizon.
"Are you happy?" Luna asked.
Hermione had to consider that question carefully. She smiled. "Right at this moment, I think that I am."
Biting her lip, Luna added, "Do you think are going to be happy? Here in Ophidia? With the King?"
She smiled as she thought of Tom. "You know, Luna, I really think I will be. Here in Ophidia. Here with Tom. I feel like I belong here. And at the very least, I know that my life will mean something."
Luna took a deep breath and then just nodded.
Feeling unusually emotional, Hermione reached out to enfold Luna in a hug. "Thank you for staying as long as you did," Hermione whispered into her hair. "You have always been a wonderful friend. And thank you for helping me to… to reach my destiny—whatever that may be, here in Ophidia."
In a voice that shimmered with tears, Luna said, "I truly hope it brings you all the happiness and love that you deserve."
A soft sound interrupted the women, and they looked down to see Pheme waiting to escort Hermione from her rooms to the King's—the ancient tradition of marriage.
"Give my best to Harry and Ron, and tell my parents that I will be in touch as soon as I can," Hermione reminded Luna, quickly dashing away the moisture at the corners of her eyes.
"We'll all miss you," Luna replied.
"Of course," Pheme scoffed. "Who would not miss having Her Majesty? But she belongs to Ophidia now, so Brittania will just have to fend for itself." She nodded her little head with such finality that both women laughed.
A/N: Here we are, almost to the very end! It's time for the Final chapter, and then the short Epilogue. This has been one exciting ride, and I can't wait to hear all of your thoughts. Just a heads-up, this is the last chapter from Hermione's POV. For the ending, we'll get to see inside Tom's head for the very first time. Prepare yourself.
SR: Constructive Reviews Welcome (CRW)