The Wedding Planner
Chapter Three
The most feared Professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry wasn't feeling very well. Which was undoubtedly the result of drinking three classes full of Old Ogden's in rapid succession on an empty stomach.
"Albus Bloody Interfering Do-Gooder Dumbledore!" he exclaimed to the tapestry on the wall he was looking at. As if he would deign to marry that little girl!
He sighed and poured himself another glass. Downing it quickly he poured another and staggered to his favorite armchair.
"Fuck!" he muttered. He was going to have to marry her of course. Malfoy could not get his hands on her, she'd be dead within a year. Or less. Albus knew it too, which is why he, Severus Snape, now found himself facing the prospect of ending his thus far quite satisfactory bachelorhood.
All because the chit had the nerve to befriend Harry I Defeated Voldemort Potter. It was really the only thing, he confessed to himself, which made her intolerable. Had it not been for her association with The Boy Who Was Lucky she would have been unworthy of any attention from him. He would have merely regarded her as another thorn in his side.
Well, a truly smart thorn in his side. His best student in years actually, not that anyone would ever hear him admit it.
Sipping the contents of his glass, determined to enjoy the feeling of numbness that was slowly creeping over him, he thanked Merlin that it was Saturday and he wasn't expected to be seen anywhere on the grounds until Monday morning. This fact alone was the bright spot of his day and he intended to use the free time to get and remain very drunk.
Then he would accept Dumbledore's orders and start preparing for the rest of his life, may it be blessedly short. His prayer was interrupted by a firm knock on his door. He ignored it and stumbled to his bar to pour another drink. The polite knocking turned more into a violent pounding accompanied by the shouting of,
"Open the damn door Snape!"
"Weasley and Potter. Who else?" he snorted to himself. 'Go the Hell away Weasley before I deduct so many points your children will still be trying to make them up! Well at least Mr. Potter's children!"
Apparently they cared not, for the pounding continued so in an effort to get rid of them as rapidly as possible, he made his way to the door and flung it open. It responded by bouncing off of the wall and back into him, knocking him onto the floor in the hall.
"Oh look Ron," Harry said matter of factly. "He's drunk. What a champ!"
Hopping to his feet as best as he could given his present state, he gave his best glare and for once failed to frighten. This time it elicited, was that ?
"You are laughing at me?"
"Actually yes, Professor." Harry answered. "You would be too if you could see yourself."
"What the hell do the two of you want?" he hissed as he made his way back into his chambers. "Say what you must then leave me alone."
"No house points lost if we do?" Ron asked with a smile.
"Consider yourselves lucky that I am too drunk to care," he answered with a flop of his hand as he settled into his chair again. "Only make yourselves useful and bring to bottle over here."
Sensing an opening and a chance to make mischief, Ron asked "Could we join you, sir?"
Harry concealed a grin behind his hand and poured his least favorite teacher another drink.
"I'm not that pissed, Weasley," was the staid reply.
"But sir, we came here to celebrate with you. To congratulate you on winning the hand of our best friend!" Ron continued ignoring Harry's warning glance.
"Look here Weasley-"Snape growled.
"Shut up Ron!" Harry interrupted. Turning to Snape he continued, "Ignore him, sir. He's a prat sometimes."
"Perhaps you should tell me why you are here then, before I lose all patience and start hexing the both of you."
Harry looked at his drunk teacher with a mixture of amusement and pity although he was wise enough to veil the expression behind half closed eyes. "Look sir, Ron and I just wanted to let you know that you have our full support."
"Well I wouldn't go that far mate!" Ron exclaimed. "Support might be a little too strong a word to use."
"Shut up Ron!" Harry scolded. "Look Professor, we figure that you are a much better choice for Hermione. We know that there is no love lost between us, but Malfoy is unacceptable. He'd kill her."
He paused to give Snape a chance to respond, but the man merely gazed at him through clouded eyes. Taking a deep breath, he continued, "Ron can't offer for her-"
"Oh yes, I am well aware of that Mister Potter," he interrupted with a smirk. "Do go on."
"Well, sir Hermione is understandably upset by all of this. And I can see that you are as well, but and I can't believe that I am saying this but, we'd like to help.
For the second time that day, Severus Snape laughed.
Meanwhile, back in the Head Girls room, Hermione was weeping openly. As any healthy young woman would do when faced with a singing House Elf named Miffy. Singing what sounded like a love song. In Italian. While holding a small bouquet of wild flowers.
"Mister Draco Malfoy, requests the honor of your company at dinner this evening, Miss Granger." Miffy said after finishing his song. With a bow he presented her with the bouquet.
"Does he now?" she asked as she tried to dry her tears. If Miffy thought she was rude for laughing at him, he didn't show it, he merely nodded his head in response to her question. "And is Miffy to wait for an answer?" she asked.
"Yes miss."
"Well then Miffy, you may tell Mister Malfoy to go wank!"
Surely he hadn't heard Miss Granger correctly, he thought "Pardon me, Miss?"
"You heard me, Miffy. Tell Mister Malfoy to go fuck himself!"
Miffy drew himself up to his full height, this girl had insulted his master! Still generations of subservience took over and he politely bowed. "Very well Miss. I will tell Mister Malfoy."
"Good!" she sniped. "You can also tell Mister Malfoy that the next time he woos a girl-if you could call this wooing-he'd do better with roses or perhaps tulips!"
Miffy fled the room as fast as he could while Miss Granger continued her rant.
"Cheap little bigot!" she exclaimed. 'Couldn't even spring for roses!" Flopping back on her bed, she stared at the red satin canopy and admired the way that the gold thread that was woven in it glistened in the mid morning light.
Harry and Ron had laughed when she told them the news. Now it would be around the school for sure, between Miffy, Harry, Malfoy and Ron, the Kitty Kelley of Hogwarts.
She needed a drink. It was a Saturday and she was eighteen. Hermione Granger smiled a smile that would have frightened Ron had he been present to see it, then hopped out of the bed and strode into her bathroom.
Two hours later found Hermione sitting at the bar at The Hog's Head, glass of fire whiskey in unsteady hand. It was her second in a half an hour and the effects were making themselves heard. Rather vociferously.
"Marry that blast-bastard! Dumbledore saying that I'd have no other offers! I'm Head Girl for fuck sake!"
"And one with such a charming vocabulary too," drawled Draco Malfoy as he slid onto the neighboring bar stool. "You've shocked Miffy, Granger."
"So what! You sent wild flowers and a tone deaf Elf! You call that wooing?"
Draco smiled. Hermione trembled. "Well," he said. "Father said that I had to woo you, to make it look real for The Powers That Be and such. I didn't want to go overboard."
"Trust me, Malfoy. You didn't even come close to the rail," she slurred. 'Don't tell me you actually want to marry me?"
"Hell no! I'd rather geld myself," he hissed with a shiver.
"Well sokay then," she slurred. "Fire whisley?"
He looked at her, dressed in her Muggle clothing and grimaced. He couldn't believe that his father would actually want him to marry this girl. But he did and very badly. This of course was the very reason why Draco didn't want to marry Hermione. Blood purity aside, she wasn't that bad a gal but she wasn't his love. What the hell! If she could drink at noon so could he. "Sure Granger. I'll get the next round."
Three hours and one and a half bottles of firewhisley later found Hermione, Draco and Snape slouched over a table, nursing their drinks. Snape had stumbled into The Hog's Head about an hour ago complaining about the latest injustice Dumbledore was foisting on him. The pair took pity on him and invited him to join in the debauchery. Such as it was.
"S-so Draco," Snape said with a slur. "You don't want to marry her either."
"Nope!" was his enthusiastic reply. "Would rather cut off the danglys."
Snape winced at the visual. 'I don't think that you need to go that far. Shit Draco! She's not that bad looking!"
"Hello! I'm still here!" Hermione exclaimed, flicking a chip across the table at her Professor. He waved her off and sipped his drink
"Yes Miss Granger, as your terrible table manners have said."
"Ha! Terrible Table Manners!" Draco hooted. "Say that three times in a row Uncle Sev!"
"Uncle Sev! Tha's rich and here the whole school thought you were fuck buddies!" Hermione said with a giggle.
Severus turned to her with a growl, "I can assure you Miss Granger that I am NOT GAY! Unlike your little friend who shall remain nameless."
All conversation in the pub stopped at Snape's shouted declaration of his heterosexuality. "What are you looking at!" he said drawing his wand. Wisely all turned back to their drinks and resumed their conversations.
"Look Professor," she said after a time. "Professor Dumbledore is right. We have to get married. Sorry Draco, but your dad would have me for breakfast!"
"Tell me about it Granger!"
"Surely you can't be serious, Miss Granger!" Snape exclaimed.
"I am serus," she slurred. "and don't call me Shirley. My name is Hermione."
Ignoring the blank looks that her joke elicited, she continued with a smile. "There is no reason why we can't have fun with this whole sordid thing though."
Never being on the receiving end of one of her more wicked smiles, Draco shivered and Snape blinked.
"What did you have in mind Miss Granger?" he finally asked.
Chapter Three
The most feared Professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry wasn't feeling very well. Which was undoubtedly the result of drinking three classes full of Old Ogden's in rapid succession on an empty stomach.
"Albus Bloody Interfering Do-Gooder Dumbledore!" he exclaimed to the tapestry on the wall he was looking at. As if he would deign to marry that little girl!
He sighed and poured himself another glass. Downing it quickly he poured another and staggered to his favorite armchair.
"Fuck!" he muttered. He was going to have to marry her of course. Malfoy could not get his hands on her, she'd be dead within a year. Or less. Albus knew it too, which is why he, Severus Snape, now found himself facing the prospect of ending his thus far quite satisfactory bachelorhood.
All because the chit had the nerve to befriend Harry I Defeated Voldemort Potter. It was really the only thing, he confessed to himself, which made her intolerable. Had it not been for her association with The Boy Who Was Lucky she would have been unworthy of any attention from him. He would have merely regarded her as another thorn in his side.
Well, a truly smart thorn in his side. His best student in years actually, not that anyone would ever hear him admit it.
Sipping the contents of his glass, determined to enjoy the feeling of numbness that was slowly creeping over him, he thanked Merlin that it was Saturday and he wasn't expected to be seen anywhere on the grounds until Monday morning. This fact alone was the bright spot of his day and he intended to use the free time to get and remain very drunk.
Then he would accept Dumbledore's orders and start preparing for the rest of his life, may it be blessedly short. His prayer was interrupted by a firm knock on his door. He ignored it and stumbled to his bar to pour another drink. The polite knocking turned more into a violent pounding accompanied by the shouting of,
"Open the damn door Snape!"
"Weasley and Potter. Who else?" he snorted to himself. 'Go the Hell away Weasley before I deduct so many points your children will still be trying to make them up! Well at least Mr. Potter's children!"
Apparently they cared not, for the pounding continued so in an effort to get rid of them as rapidly as possible, he made his way to the door and flung it open. It responded by bouncing off of the wall and back into him, knocking him onto the floor in the hall.
"Oh look Ron," Harry said matter of factly. "He's drunk. What a champ!"
Hopping to his feet as best as he could given his present state, he gave his best glare and for once failed to frighten. This time it elicited, was that ?
"You are laughing at me?"
"Actually yes, Professor." Harry answered. "You would be too if you could see yourself."
"What the hell do the two of you want?" he hissed as he made his way back into his chambers. "Say what you must then leave me alone."
"No house points lost if we do?" Ron asked with a smile.
"Consider yourselves lucky that I am too drunk to care," he answered with a flop of his hand as he settled into his chair again. "Only make yourselves useful and bring to bottle over here."
Sensing an opening and a chance to make mischief, Ron asked "Could we join you, sir?"
Harry concealed a grin behind his hand and poured his least favorite teacher another drink.
"I'm not that pissed, Weasley," was the staid reply.
"But sir, we came here to celebrate with you. To congratulate you on winning the hand of our best friend!" Ron continued ignoring Harry's warning glance.
"Look here Weasley-"Snape growled.
"Shut up Ron!" Harry interrupted. Turning to Snape he continued, "Ignore him, sir. He's a prat sometimes."
"Perhaps you should tell me why you are here then, before I lose all patience and start hexing the both of you."
Harry looked at his drunk teacher with a mixture of amusement and pity although he was wise enough to veil the expression behind half closed eyes. "Look sir, Ron and I just wanted to let you know that you have our full support."
"Well I wouldn't go that far mate!" Ron exclaimed. "Support might be a little too strong a word to use."
"Shut up Ron!" Harry scolded. "Look Professor, we figure that you are a much better choice for Hermione. We know that there is no love lost between us, but Malfoy is unacceptable. He'd kill her."
He paused to give Snape a chance to respond, but the man merely gazed at him through clouded eyes. Taking a deep breath, he continued, "Ron can't offer for her-"
"Oh yes, I am well aware of that Mister Potter," he interrupted with a smirk. "Do go on."
"Well, sir Hermione is understandably upset by all of this. And I can see that you are as well, but and I can't believe that I am saying this but, we'd like to help.
For the second time that day, Severus Snape laughed.
Meanwhile, back in the Head Girls room, Hermione was weeping openly. As any healthy young woman would do when faced with a singing House Elf named Miffy. Singing what sounded like a love song. In Italian. While holding a small bouquet of wild flowers.
"Mister Draco Malfoy, requests the honor of your company at dinner this evening, Miss Granger." Miffy said after finishing his song. With a bow he presented her with the bouquet.
"Does he now?" she asked as she tried to dry her tears. If Miffy thought she was rude for laughing at him, he didn't show it, he merely nodded his head in response to her question. "And is Miffy to wait for an answer?" she asked.
"Yes miss."
"Well then Miffy, you may tell Mister Malfoy to go wank!"
Surely he hadn't heard Miss Granger correctly, he thought "Pardon me, Miss?"
"You heard me, Miffy. Tell Mister Malfoy to go fuck himself!"
Miffy drew himself up to his full height, this girl had insulted his master! Still generations of subservience took over and he politely bowed. "Very well Miss. I will tell Mister Malfoy."
"Good!" she sniped. "You can also tell Mister Malfoy that the next time he woos a girl-if you could call this wooing-he'd do better with roses or perhaps tulips!"
Miffy fled the room as fast as he could while Miss Granger continued her rant.
"Cheap little bigot!" she exclaimed. 'Couldn't even spring for roses!" Flopping back on her bed, she stared at the red satin canopy and admired the way that the gold thread that was woven in it glistened in the mid morning light.
Harry and Ron had laughed when she told them the news. Now it would be around the school for sure, between Miffy, Harry, Malfoy and Ron, the Kitty Kelley of Hogwarts.
She needed a drink. It was a Saturday and she was eighteen. Hermione Granger smiled a smile that would have frightened Ron had he been present to see it, then hopped out of the bed and strode into her bathroom.
Two hours later found Hermione sitting at the bar at The Hog's Head, glass of fire whiskey in unsteady hand. It was her second in a half an hour and the effects were making themselves heard. Rather vociferously.
"Marry that blast-bastard! Dumbledore saying that I'd have no other offers! I'm Head Girl for fuck sake!"
"And one with such a charming vocabulary too," drawled Draco Malfoy as he slid onto the neighboring bar stool. "You've shocked Miffy, Granger."
"So what! You sent wild flowers and a tone deaf Elf! You call that wooing?"
Draco smiled. Hermione trembled. "Well," he said. "Father said that I had to woo you, to make it look real for The Powers That Be and such. I didn't want to go overboard."
"Trust me, Malfoy. You didn't even come close to the rail," she slurred. 'Don't tell me you actually want to marry me?"
"Hell no! I'd rather geld myself," he hissed with a shiver.
"Well sokay then," she slurred. "Fire whisley?"
He looked at her, dressed in her Muggle clothing and grimaced. He couldn't believe that his father would actually want him to marry this girl. But he did and very badly. This of course was the very reason why Draco didn't want to marry Hermione. Blood purity aside, she wasn't that bad a gal but she wasn't his love. What the hell! If she could drink at noon so could he. "Sure Granger. I'll get the next round."
Three hours and one and a half bottles of firewhisley later found Hermione, Draco and Snape slouched over a table, nursing their drinks. Snape had stumbled into The Hog's Head about an hour ago complaining about the latest injustice Dumbledore was foisting on him. The pair took pity on him and invited him to join in the debauchery. Such as it was.
"S-so Draco," Snape said with a slur. "You don't want to marry her either."
"Nope!" was his enthusiastic reply. "Would rather cut off the danglys."
Snape winced at the visual. 'I don't think that you need to go that far. Shit Draco! She's not that bad looking!"
"Hello! I'm still here!" Hermione exclaimed, flicking a chip across the table at her Professor. He waved her off and sipped his drink
"Yes Miss Granger, as your terrible table manners have said."
"Ha! Terrible Table Manners!" Draco hooted. "Say that three times in a row Uncle Sev!"
"Uncle Sev! Tha's rich and here the whole school thought you were fuck buddies!" Hermione said with a giggle.
Severus turned to her with a growl, "I can assure you Miss Granger that I am NOT GAY! Unlike your little friend who shall remain nameless."
All conversation in the pub stopped at Snape's shouted declaration of his heterosexuality. "What are you looking at!" he said drawing his wand. Wisely all turned back to their drinks and resumed their conversations.
"Look Professor," she said after a time. "Professor Dumbledore is right. We have to get married. Sorry Draco, but your dad would have me for breakfast!"
"Tell me about it Granger!"
"Surely you can't be serious, Miss Granger!" Snape exclaimed.
"I am serus," she slurred. "and don't call me Shirley. My name is Hermione."
Ignoring the blank looks that her joke elicited, she continued with a smile. "There is no reason why we can't have fun with this whole sordid thing though."
Never being on the receiving end of one of her more wicked smiles, Draco shivered and Snape blinked.
"What did you have in mind Miss Granger?" he finally asked.