Disclaimer: J.K.Rowling owns everything, I don't. No copyright infringement is intended.
Chapter 14
As Hermione ran through the empty Hogwarts corridors, her mind rushed through a litany of explanations that she could use to justify her decision to Ron. Of course she would tell him the truth, but the situation required much more tact than just a friendly pat on the back. She was going to have to make him understand why she was choosing to marry someone they all despised -- instead of her childhood friend and first crush.
Panting from her sprint through the school, Hermione was soon standing in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady. One look at her house sentry's haughty expression gave her an indication of what she would soon be facing as the wife of a Slytherin in Gryffindor territory. While the portrait had a reputation for being tough but fair to Gryffindor, her rivalry with Slytherin was a different story. "Mackled Malaclaw" she called out in a defeated rush. If the portraits knew of her plight, then chances are so did Ron, and she wasn't looking forward to cleaning up the mess that the school gossips would have already inflicted upon him.
"I'm sorry my dear," the guard exclaimed with feigned indifference, "but that's not the password."
"Yes it is," she retorted brokenly, her lungs still gasping for air. "I just used it yesterday."
"Ahhh, yes... but yesterday you were a Gryffindor, I understand that you are now a Slytherin. If you wish to access the common room you need to have the Slytherin password."
"Slytherin password?" The incredulity in her voice was clear, "I've never heard of such a thing."
"Well dear, that's because there isn't one. Slytherins aren't allowed into Gryffindor tower."
The conspiratorial laugh that the portrait emitted was far too much for Hermione's strained nerves. With her time running short, her frustration level was rising rapidly, and she couldn't help but think that this was taking inter-house rivalry much too far. "Well for your information, I'm not a Slytherin and I never will be. The Sorting Hat placed me in Gryffindor on my very first day at Hogwarts, and I'll be a member of Gryffindor even after I'm dead. Now, let- me- pass." The last words were said with the quiet intensity of someone who was not to be trifled with.
The Fat Lady stared at her in surprise, then with a toss of her head and a rather loud, "Hurummph," the portrait swung open to let her pass.
The butterflies in Hermione's stomach had increased ten-fold by the time she clamored into the common room. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the large fireplace that dominated the room, and she hoped -- in fact expected -- to find Harry, Ginny, and Ron holding court in the comfortable chairs. Since their earliest school days the fireplace seemed to be their special place. Theirs -- but not hers, as even back then she preferred the nearby tables to spread out her books and study with unabashed enthusiasm.
She heard the sweep of the door as it closed behind her, and as the sound reverberated around the empty room her heart sunk. Not only were her friends absent but so also were all the other members of Gryffindor house. For the first time in a long time she lamented the absence of her housemates. Since the negative fallout from the Marriage Law hit the school, she had accepted that she was due to bear the brunt of her classmate's frustrations. But while she knew that many of them were against her, and would have even more reason to hate her after this evening, there were still a few that could be counted on in a pinch. And she was definitely in a pinch. She had to be at the Room of Requirement in less than an hour, and she still had much to do.
As her eyes swept the room, looking for any sign of life, she happened upon the large Grandfather clock in the corner. A quick calculation of the Wizarding timepiece, something that had easily become second nature to the Muggle born, and she determined that the school had just sat down to dinner. Chastising herself for napping for so long, she bolted up the stairs to her room. Although Hermione Granger was never known for procrastination, in this instance she had no choice but to put off one of her two tasks.
Safely inside her shared room, Hermione instinctively reached to pull her wand out of the special pocket of her school robe. Amid a flash of pain, she was rocked from her feet and thrown to the floor. A moment after her body connected with the floor, her head crashed into the heavy wooden planks with a dull thud. With dark thoughts invading her mind and a sick feeling gathering in the pit of her stomach, she dropped the uncontrollable wand to her side.
Reaching up to rub her injured head, she allowed her stomach to settle as she murmured into the empty room, "Ouch! That is definitely not your wand Hermione!"
Even without looking at the discarded object, she knew whom it belonged to. From the moment she first touched Malfoy's wand she knew she couldn't contain its energy, and this latest assault strongly suggested that the wand might know it too.
"Fine," Hermione jeered at the offending piece of wood, "just stay there -- I have something much better anyway!"
With long-awaited anticipation, she jumped onto her bed and flopped over the side to pull out her treasure box. Ripping off the cover, she tore into the box and pulled out her homemade wand. Sparing only a moment to examine her handiwork, she reflected on how different the new wand felt in her hand. After spending the day without any magical conduit, and then forcing herself to use one that was wholly unsuited to her, she couldn't help but relish the completeness that she now felt.
Quickly replacing the cover and placing the box under her bed, she flicked her new wand towards the bathroom door and allowed herself a moment of satisfaction as the distant sounds of running water filled the room.
Resisting the urge to continue preening over her new wand, Hermione got up and went to the armoire in the corner of the room. Like most students, her school trunk held most of her daily supplies, but in recognition of her status as ward of the school, she had been given the piece of magical furniture to hold the rest of her belongings. While she had been unable to recover very little from her Muggle life, the few possessions she had in the school's storage, namely her mother's dress, were now located in the ornate wardrobe.
After stepping into the deceptively large armoire and struggling through piles of book and other assorted odds and ends, she had no sooner pulled out the dress when the gentle sounds of rippling water reminded her of her waiting bath. Quickly tossing her mother's dress onto her bed, she began to pull off her clothes as she ran into the bathroom.
Blissfully free from her dirty clothes, she eased herself into the large tub; and with a low groan, Hermione allowed herself a moment to enjoy the relaxing fragrance of her bath oils and the soothing spray of the tub's magical water jets. With her body and mind enjoying a moment's respite, her thoughts had just conjured up images of her waiting fiancé when the engagement ring swinging from her necklace attracted her attention. Hidden under layers of clothing throughout the day, it had nonetheless been a constant reminder of the question that had been asked -- but not yet answered.
Picking up the ring and examining it closely for the first time, she noticed how... traditional it was. Looking like it came straight out of the pages of a Muggle catalogue, she couldn't help but wonder if he would have chosen the same ring if she were a pureblood. Closing her eyes and dropping the ring, she heard the telltale plunk as it struck the water and settled back between her breasts. It was no use to think what life would have been like for her if she had been born with a magical pedigree. She had been born a Mudblood. Intelligent, brave, and with all the right friends, there had never been any chance of escaping the wrath of elitist purebloods.
Dipping her head under the magical sprays she ran her fingers through the now weightless mass of curls floating in the scented water. As her hair began to untangle, she thought of how her choice to marry Professor Snape would keep them all alive. But was that enough? Surely it was enough -- by any standards it was more than enough; but his offer had come with the condition of her chastity -- and was that a promise she was still interested in keeping?
She had sat back and listened to her friends prattle on about their love lives for so long, that she had almost forgotten she had none of her own. While it was true that most of the school assumed she was attached to Harry and Ron, the two were blissfully unaware of her well-guarded desires. Not desires for them of course, at least not since fourth year.
However in light of Ron's proposal, and now faced at a long stretch of marriage-induced chastity, she wondered where their new relationship could have gone. While it was true that it wasn't going to the altar, would it lead elsewhere? Would they go back to being childhood buddies, or would this new information shed light on a budding romance? She knew that the idea of her marrying Snape had hurt him, but would he understand and wait for her -- and was that really what she wanted?
Running her fingers along her neck and shoulders, Hermione began to ponder her remaining chances for romance. On the surface it looked slimmer than usual, after all, most married women didn't generally go on dates -- but she wouldn't be married forever. Once the threat had passed -- or she left -- the annulment would take place and she would be a free woman again. And then what?
Mindful of the ticking clock, she forcefully pushed aside her thoughts, and grabbing a washcloth, she began to soap her body in earnest. As her hands roughly washed over her body, she couldn't help but think that due to her unorthodox situation, it was likely that neither man would be venturing into this virgin territory. Space may be the final frontier, she thought ruefully, but the way things were going, her body would never be explored.
Quickly finishing her ministrations, Hermione wrapped herself in a large fluffy towel and grabbed her wand to complete her transformation. With a proficient flick of her wand, her hair was dry and free of tangles, and then with a heavy sigh, she set about the unnatural task of styling the mass of curls and applying a layer of makeup. Although she had never been one to spend much time on her appearance, preferring instead a much more natural look, in this instance she felt duty-bound to make an exception.
As she began to twist and pull her hair into something worthy of Lavender and Parvati, she again mourned the loss of her childhood friendships. While she had to admit that they had never been exceptionally close, the two women would probably have had rather unique take on her present situation. Besides, between the two of them, they had a veritable wealth of knowledge on hair potions and cosmetic spells and had never been shy in sharing them.
A blissfully short time later, as she surveyed her spell work with a critical eye, Hermione couldn't help but marvel at the results. In lieu of a veil, she had twisted and plaited the front of her chestnut hair into a crown, and allowed the back to fall into gracefully sweeping curls. After her first attempt to apply a glamorous face came out looking more like war paint and her second like a happy clown, she opted for a light dusting of powder and pale lipstick. While the effect was simple, she couldn't help but think that it suited her far better than anything else her inexperienced hand could create.
Taking the dress out of its protective wrapper and holding it up to the light, Hermione was struck by how well the simple pink dress fit the occasion. The scooped neckline was the perfect compliment to its form-fitting bodice, and while the short puffed sleeves were more appropriate for warmer Graduation weather, it did add a nice balance to the full flounce of the knee-length skirt. In a moment of wistfulness, she couldn't help but think that her mother's string of pearls would complete the picture and give the entire look a demure effect.
"That's the way it should have been," she whispered to the empty room. When her mother sent her old graduation dress and excitedly asked if her only daughter wanted to wear it at her own ceremony, Hermione had accepted unenthusiastically. At the time she didn't think it was appropriate for the future Head Girl at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to be seen in such out-of-date Muggle attire, but now she wished she had accepted the offer with more grace. Her mother deserved better than that.
When Professor McGonagall was talking about transfiguring an appropriate wedding dress, she realized that with Voldemort becoming more powerful, there was a real possibility that she would never graduate. In fact, it was likely that by the end of the school year Hogwarts might not even be standing. So, with the potential of another missed opportunity staring her in the face, Hermione rationalized that wearing the dress today might -- in some small way -- be her chance to make something right.
As her mind darted through a lifetime of memories, she thought of all the little things that had been left unsaid. "If only..." she whispered, blindly staring at her makeshift wedding gown. With a mental shake of her head, she pushed aside her wishful thoughts and hastily donned the dress. Once started, those thoughts were sure to open up a floodgate of wishes that could never come true.
Soon enough she was dressed, and with magically comfortable high-heeled pumps to match, Hermione pulled on a school robe to cover her attire from prying eyes. Remembering her last accident using Malfoy's wand, she used her own pride and joy to carefully levitate the extra wand into the special compartment of her school robe. She wasn't sure why her Professor had allowed her to keep the offending object, but she was sure that she would have to give it back -- and she would do that gladly.
Looking for a safe place to hide her new wand, she transfigured a hidden pocket into the skirt of her dress and carefully slid it inside. While the placement would keep it out of sight, she knew that she would soon be walking into a room with a number of intuitive wizards -- she just hoped that its magical force would remain hidden during the evening.
As she bolted for the door, taking a last quick look around the room for anything she might have forgotten, a rebellious thought stopped her in her tracks. Temporary though it was, this was her wedding day; and unlike most brides these days (Magical or Muggle), she was indeed a virgin. It might have been silly to cling to the thought that a bride should wear white, but at that moment she was less concerned with what others might think of her than indulging in an old woman's fantasy. With a mental bow to her mother and grandmother, Hermione pulled her wand from the pocket in her dress and transfigured the color from pink to white, and with a satisfied look in the mirror, she tucked the long chain holding Ron's engagement ring into her dress and left the room.
With one last effort to find her friends, Hermione took a detour on her way to the Room of Requirement and quietly crept past the Great Hall. Not realizing how late it had become, she was surprised to see that while the room was still buzzing with the normal after meal chatter, the crowd had begun to thin out considerably. Not daring to expose herself at such a precarious time, she found a safe hiding spot behind a statue and began to search out her long-time friends.
As she carefully scanned the Gryffindor table, she concluded that her attempts had been in vain, as her friends were nowhere to be found. Looking up at the school clock, she determined that while she hadn't taken that long getting ready, it was now unlikely that she would have time to find Ron before the ceremony.
"So Draco, is it true about that Mudblood bitch?"
Hearing the cackling tone of Pansy Parkinson as she walked out of the Great Hall, Hermione pushed back further into her hiding spot. If there was one thing she didn't need right now, it was to be the center of a Slytherin catfight.
"Stay out of it Pansy," was Draco's curt reply, "What I choose to do, and for that matter whom I choose to do, is none of your concern."
With an adversarial laugh, Pansy sauntered up to her long-time love and drew a long manicured finger down his cheek. "We both know that's not completely true darling." Twirling her fingers around his tie and grasping it firmly, she pulled him into the alcove near Hermione's hiding spot.
Holding her breath, and willing herself to stay as still as the statue, Hermione prayed that their tryst would end before she was spotted. With an intimate view of the couple, she watched as Pansy inched her mouth closer to Draco's ear and whispered nastily, "I'm not about to stand in the way of your extracurricular activities, but just remember that you've already got an escort to the altar. I would never have stood by and let you ruin our names with a Mudblood marriage."
Disentangling her hands and grabbing her roughly, Draco hissed, "You forget who you're talking to Pansy. I'm not one of your adoring fans, and I certainly have no reason to fear your father's influence with the Dark Lord. I have no intention of ever marrying you, so you can just move on from that little fantasy." With a final push, he sent her stumbling backwards before turning and walking toward the direction of Slytherin house.
From her vantage point, Hermione could see the flash in Pansy's eyes as she called out after Draco's retreating back, "From what I hear Snape has already promised her to half the school. Isn't it funny that, after all your father's hard work, you'll have to line up with the rest of them to take a turn." Enraged that the Slytherin heir-apparent was ignoring her, Pansy growled loudly and stamped her prissy foot before spinning around and stalking away.
Hermione waited until she was sure that the angry witch had re-entered the great hall before exhaling deeply. Although she knew that Pansy's comment was nothing more than a jealous rage based on vicious school gossip, it stung to think of the increased prejudices and expectations that she would have to endure. Suddenly feeling more alone than she had since her parents' death, Hermione slid out from the shadows and headed up the stairway to her wedding.
----------------------------
A/N: Next Chapter -- The Wedding!! Ok, I know all of you are saying, "FINALLY!!!" But in my defense, there are tons of things running around in my brain for this story and they either wouldn't make sense after the wedding, or were needed to set up something later. In any case, thanks for your patience!!
I also want to say thank you to my wonderful beta NegativeNine (honestly, I don't know how she puts up with me), and a special shout out to April Grey for her calming, positive words of wisdom -- a very special lady!! Also, thanks to everyone who reviewed: Raclswt, Leyna Rountree, Ana Morales, Sapphire Butterfly, Ezmerelda, Ophelia Immortal, Sarahamanda (13 chapters in one shot - it was really impressive to see all those reviews!), crissy, sisterhood-of-the-snake, Hello. Your comments have really kept me going with this story, and after being away for so long I was afraid you would all have moved on... thanks for sticking around!!