Author name: Fire Goddess

Fic Title: Till Death Do Us Part

Rating: PG 13

Summary:  Hermione reflects on how she came to marry Draco Malfoy…only to discover that it really wasn't as bad as it seemed it would be. 

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Hermione stood there, the feeling of hundreds of eyes on her back bringing goose pimples to the back of her neck, and wondered how she had gotten herself into this whole mess.

Draco Malfoy, her mind screamed, Draco Malfoy, his horrible father and all their little Death Eater buddies, and that damn mirror!

Trying to curse away her thoughts, she let her gaze wander to the priest standing in front of her, though what the man was saying, she hadn't the slightest clue – not that she cared, mind you – then, somewhat reluctantly, to the man standing beside her.  And tried not to vomit.  Vomiting didn't seem to be the right thing to do at a wedding, she thought.

** Flashback **

"Hermione, you've got to!  There's no other way out of it, the mirror-"

Hermione sharply cut off Harry Potter, best friend of nine years, "The mirror! That's what started this whole mess!  Just because you looked into it – after I told you not to – and saw yourself saving everyone – again, I might add – and then made us look into it, too, doesn't mean you're going to take control of my life!"  Harry looked hurt, but it didn't stop Hermione from continuing her purge on his guilt. "Does it make you feel better to know that I'm going to betray you?  Because it sure doesn't make me feel better.  If we hadn't looked into that bloody mirror, we'd all be safe and happy.  Happy, Harry!" She shrieked, her eyes were alive with anger and wide with fury, "I am not going to go and profess my undying love for Draco Malfoy on the alter so that I can double cross him and betray you at the same time."

"But Hermione, it could work so well!  If you only just –" Ron, too, was cut off mid-sentence as Hermione turned on him even though he had been silent so far.

"Just what, Ron? Thought about it? Think it thorough and come up with a logical answer to avoid fate?" her voice was that of defeat now, as she continued, "You both saw as well as I did, and we all know that it is one way or the other. I can't cheat destiny now that I know what mine is.  Cheating is much easier said than done, you two should know that."

She picked up the dagger that was lying next to the mirror; she knew it was a port-key to Them.  Looking at the two men in front of her, the eyes that had been full of anger only moments ago were now filled with sadness.  Her hand reached up to stroke Harry's cheek, then Ron's, "I can't just hop back and forth between sides…you know that.  I can't spy for them or you, especially not you."

Harry and Ron looked at the young girl before them, her beautiful delicate features had somehow aged a million years in only a matter of minutes – and they had done it to her. 

Harry tried to take her hand, but she pulled away, and looked them in their eyes, "If I do go, I can't come back.  I won't come back, even if I want to."

"But, Hermione, it doesn't have to be this way, you know that.  We could –" Ron's eyes were pleading with her.

"Get ourselves killed in the next raid, but still die heroes?  I don't think so, Harry," she saw the hurt in Ron's eyes, but it was too late, the mirror had already shown all three of them what she really was: evil.  "You know I love you, both of you, and I'd do anything for you – anything in the world, but this is just how it's just going to have to be." 

Standing on her tiptoes, she kissed each of them once, and then, with more confidence than she felt, Hermione picked up the dagger and the mirror and did the hardest thing she'd ever had to do in her life: walk away from the two men that mattered to her most. 

When she was at the door, she turned, her voice thick with tears she said, "I'll never tell them where you are, that much, I promise."

Neither Harry nor Ron could bear to watch her as she triggered the dagger to port-key her to its destination, and then with a soft 'pop', they knew she was gone. 

Hermione opened her eyes only to see the dim lights illuminating a small room.  It was the office of Draco Malfoy, head of the Unspeakables Department in the Ministry of Magic. 

Draco looked up with bland amusement, it wasn't often that his appointments port-keyed into his office, wearing an expression that told her he'd been expecting her. 

Smug bastard, she thought.  Well, better make the best of it, girl.  You're about to be a Malfoy.  At least she didn't have to marry Goyle, Draco was much more handsome than most Death Eaters, she had to give him that much.

"Mr. Malfoy," Hermione stepped towards him – Draco took an appreciative look at her, she had certainly changed since he had seen her last, or maybe it was the mere absence of a Hogwarts uniform…or those Muggle clothes that barely covered…"I believe you wanted to see me?"

** End Flashback ** 

The rest of the ceremony passed in a blur, a milky haze of pale faces, tears, smirks, and looks that could have killed. Ha, if only they knew.

They were at the reception now.  It was happy enough, given the circumstances.  Harry and Ron had even come, which Hermione had to admit, surprised her.  But they hadn't talked to her, and promptly left after the ceremony.  She was touched that they had come, but it hurt even more. 

Everything always hurt more, now.  Not that Draco did anything to her, he was too much of a gentleman to do that, and Draco had told her that the Malfoy Code of Conduct strictly forbid the abuse of females.  He also told her that a Malfoy only marries once. 

No, her pain was not physical.  It was deep inside her, like her heart had broken into more pieces than she now had money, and every shard was on a mission to shred her to pieces inside and take her on a guilt trip through hell and back.

Hermione was dancing with her father, bless him, he was probably clueless as to how much pain his baby was in.  Draco soon cut in, looking like the angel she knew he wasn't.  He was taller than her, standing at six-foot, but only by a few inches, and with her white satin shoes on, her five-foot-eight figure was only about an inch and a half shorter than him.  He lead her off to a secluded garden saying that no one would notice their absence at her protests.  He really could be sweet, when he tried, she thought.

"Well? What did you want?" Hermione looked at him, standing across from her, looking like he was a freshly laundered GQ Wizard model. 

"Can't a husband talk to his wife on their wedding day?" he smirked, watching her scowl.

"We could've talked inside, if that's what you wanted Draco." Hermione sat down on a small bench, her white gown spilling over the sides. 

Draco looked at her; she really wasn't all that bad, and at least she wasn't Pansy, the freaking cling-on from Hell.  "Hermione, you remember our seventh year?  We were both Head Boy and Girl?"

"Yes, I quite remember.  I remember you thinking I was a virgin and trying to bed me, and then when you found out I wasn't, you dropped me for a shag with Pansy Parkinslut," She laughed, and looked up at him, "that was quite a year."

He chose to ignore her first comment, but instead said, "Yes, it was quite a year.  That was the year you killed my father."

"I said I was sorry!  I was…"

"A goody-goody, I know.  But, what I was really saying was that we looked out for each other that year, why did it change after we graduated?"  He was serious.  Not sarcastic, or playing some twisted game, like he usually did, but he was serious.  "And why did you come back?"

Damn, she thought, she knew they would have this conversation sometime or another, but on their Wedding Day? 

"Well, I suppose…it was because you showed me who I really was."

"Is that a good thing?"  Hermione shrugged one of her pale shoulders.  He loved her shoulders.

"Look, Hermione, just because the mirror said you're 'evil', doesn't mean you are.  It just means you're meant to be on our side.  You would've made a good Slytherin."

Hermione laughed, "I never told you?  The Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin, but I told it not to." Draco looked offended, she laughed again, "But…sometimes I just hated being in Gryffindor, and our seventh year was the best.  Being with you…well, it should have made me vomit – speaking of which, I almost did at the ceremony – but it didn't.  I learned a lot that year, and not that you though I was a good shag from that Brockelhurst girl."

Draco smirked again, "Look, I know you probably don't love me, but I just brought you here to tell you that I've got your back, till death do us part."

"Who ever said I didn't love you?"  It was her turn to smirk, "but I'll hold you to your ' till death do us part' comment."  She took his hand, and thought that it still hurt, but not as much now. 

He pulled her up, and said in a smooth voice, "What do you say we get back to the reception – it is, after all, our party.  Besides, better have fun now before Potty and the Weasel spoil it all tomorrow during their raid." 

Hermione muttered a soft damn under her breath, "I suppose you're right.  But they won't find anything tomorrow," Draco raised an eyebrow.  "I've moved everything to another house, with even more protection spells than that bloody manor of yours."

"Hermione, I could kiss you right now."

"Well, why don't you?"  Hermione smiled smugly as he bent down an gave her a chaste kiss on the lips, "Besides, it'll be years before they figure out I'm using their basement to hide half of it…"

Draco and Hermione entered the reception hall, looking like the picture of perfection.  They were rich, powerful, evil, second in command to Voldermort himself, and in love. 

Yes, Hermione thought, it still hurt, but not nearly as much now.  Besides, they had till death do us part, didn't they?

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A/N:  Okay, that sucked, majorly.  But, it popped in my head and thought I'd write it anyway.  I don't really care if it doesn't have a plot, make sense or if you even liked it – thought it'd be a real plus if you did!  Maybe there'll be more later.  Or maybe not, you never know.

Aloha,

Fire Goddess