Oh! Lookie! Next chapter!

Thanks to my very fast and brilliant beta this chapter where written, corrected and uploaded in one day! -yay- for us!

Disclaimer: They're JK's – I admit it! Not mine, nope – not at all!

Disclaimer: Oh! Oh! This one is special! It's classical music and its called "O Fortune" and where written –uhm- created by a gentleman called Orff. From the beginning it's written in Latin. And even though it in my fiction is called "poetry" it's far from the truth because "O fortune" from the masterpiece Carminaburana is music ladies and gent's fabulous music!

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I'm sorry if Hermione in this chapter is a bit Ooc, but hey! The girl is about to marry her life's nemesis and you can't blame her for getting drunk? -coughs-

Enjoy :)

The day before D-day

O Fortune,
like the moon
you are changeable,
ever waxing
and waning;
hateful life
first oppresses
and then soothes
as fancy takes it;
poverty
and power
it melts them like ice.

Hermione sat in her room, paralyzed watching the walls, at some point she pretended that she was at home, in her own room, watching her own white wall with pink ribbons. It had been a long time since she'd seen her home, almost two years. They had had a huge family tiff before her sixth year at Hogwarts. Her parents, especially her dad, had changed their minds since first year and wanted her to go to a common, ordinary muggle school. They somehow thought that she'd bee able to catch up with the other children.

But right now Hermione would give everything away, every inch of her magical life if she was be able to get home and live a normal life. But she knew she couldn't, even if she, in practice, was able to break her wand and ask Dumbledore for an obliviation. She was still convinced that she would feel stuffed with all that barraged magic inside her and not being able to use it.

'Tomorrow, Hermione, you'll no longer be a Granger…' her inner voice whispered.

It was a giddy thought that she, tomorrow night, would turn into Hermione Malfoy. Face a lifetime in Lucius Malfoy's clutches, live in his house, give birth to his child, being forced to have a civilized conversation with an albino ferret who's only goal in this life was to make her feel as miserable as possible.

"Hermione," She heard Harry's voice through the door off her bedroom, but she didn't want him to enter, she didn't want anyone to enter this night. She wanted her last hours of freedom to be on her own.

"Go away, Harry, I need to be alone," she called, not allowing the sadness in her voice to show.

"But, Hermione, I… can't you just please let me in for a second or two? I need to see you."

"No, Harry, GO A-W-A-Y! Go cuddle Ginny or something, I W-A-N-T to be alone."

"I'm your friend, Mione; I don't want you to feel lonely at this moment! Ginny's here too, let us in. We just want to talk to you."

"We can stay the night if you'd like; to comfort you," Ginny's voice piped up from behind Harry's, by this time, twice repaired wooden door.

Hermione was about to have a hysterical outburst, she knew that they meant well, but right now she didn't want pity. The only thing she needed now was solitude. She rose from her bed and stalked towards her door, opening it slightly so that she could face her friends properly.

"No, No, and NO! God damn it, I want to be alone right now. Go shag each other senseless or some other distracting thing because I'm not in the mood for sympathy."

"Umm… sure, Hermione, sorry," Harry muttered and placed his arm around Ginny's shoulder.

"By the way, Hermione, Ron told me that he would be visiting you before the wedding," Ginny informed over her shoulder.

'Bloody hell,' she thought as she closed her door, 'I can't face him, sweet Merlin I'm not up to it!'

She slumped down in a chair, staring at her huge amount of books, every single one containing old ministry laws and history about pure-blood marriage and modern wizard-ceremonies. She pounded her head onto her writing desk softly; she came to the conclusion that she needed distraction.

'Read something interesting,' she told herself, 'Yes… that'll distract me.'

She got up from her chair and began searching through her "light" reading bookcase, which only contained her "night" literature, which she used to read before turning the lights off at night. She browsed past: Numerology and Grammatical, Travels with Trolls, Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century, Curses and Counter Curses, Hogwarts: a History, Muggles Who Notice and Rune Dictionary. She even passed (on her bookcase) very rare, fantasy novels written by muggles: JRR. Tolkien's "Lord of the Rings", David Ending's "The Belgaraid" and Polgara the Sorcerer – volume One and Two". She halted abruptly at Antiquus Camena, an old poetry collection written all in Latin, a language Hermione first had good command of in her sixth year.

'Now my dear, we'll see if this distracts you…' She mused as she picked the old book with a reddish-brown dust jacket.

Once again she slumped down in her chair, opened the book exactly in the right chapter to read her favourite poem, O Fortuna. Tempted by the lyric she began reading:

Sors immanis
et inanis,
rota tu volubilis,
status malus,
vana salus
semper dissolubilis

'Damn, it's not working, not WORKING!'

'With that attitude you'll never succeed to achieve distraction.'

'But it's not working.'

'Concentrate!'

Obumbrata
et velata
michi quoque niteris;
nunc per ludum
dorsum nudum
fero tui sceleris

She slammed the book shut, and growled. It wasn't working and she was desperate to find something to take her mind of "things"; especially if Ron showed up.

'Oh my gosh… I can't take it,' she whined inwardly and began nervously wriggling her hands.

'I need something for my nerves,' she thought, 'a potion maybe? Dreamless sleep potion?'

'No, I don't want to sleep, then the time will go faster and I'll be Mrs. Malfoy before I've uttered the word marriage.'

'Have a drink then. Accio a fire whiskey or something,' a devilish voice inside her head cheered.

'Are you insane or something?' her logical voice argued, 'Are you suggesting that I get drunk? Dear Merlin, I've never gotten drunk in my whole life… alright, except for Ron's awakening last week, and that wasn't even my fault.'

'You know that you are referring to 'me' that is, yourself with a 'you'. You know, you might be suffering from schizophrenia?' The devil inside her answered.

'That won't help you. I'm not getting drunk, no matter what.'

'Suit yourself.'

Everything went silent. Hermione was still sat in her chair, staring numbly at the ceiling. Minutes passed as she continued to wriggle her hands. And the panic, nervousness, doubt, hate, anger, sorrow and helplessness were mixed in an emotional turmoil.

'Argh! Alright, I'll summon some butterbeer, that won't hurt my reputation.'

'You're such a namby-pamby, you know that, right? Oh-my-gosh, and how, to be precise, much distraction do you think you'll get out of a butterbeer? Sweet Merlin the only thing you'll get out butterbeer is numerous toilets visits during the night.'

'I am NOT a namby-pamby.'

'Prove it.'

'Why?'

'You're a namby-pamby,' her devilish voice called in a sing-song voice.

"Accio fire whiskey," she called out loud, unaware of the fact that she'd done the correct movement with her wand as well.

Minutes later there was a loud crashing sound above her, through her window a large glass bottle came flying through. Hermione had to duck as the bottle, with a thumping sound, hit the floor and by some strange miracle, it didn't break.

'Good one,' the wicked voice inside her head cheered, 'guess I was wrong then.'

'I won't drink it,' her logical voice spoke weakly.

"Shut up, both of you, I'll go insane if you insist on keeping this up," Hermione spoke out loud as she reached for the bottle.

For a while she just studied the amber liquor, swirling it around in its bottle. Someone had already opened the bottle and Hermione thought about the comical expression that would be pasted upon the person whom just had been robbed of his or her whiskey.

"Cheers," she spoke to no one in particular.

Fate – monstrous
and empty,
you whirling wheel,
you are malevolent,
well-being is vain
and always fades to nothing,
shadowed
and veiled
you plague me too;
now through the game

I bring my bare back
to your villainy.

One hour later, Hermione found herself helplessly giggling as she, with a passion, tore her Ministry letter to pieces and then burned the rubbish with one simple word:

"Incendio,"

The paper caught fire and Hermione watched it burn with an enormous fashion, and couldn't keep herself from giggling again. She was snatched out of her little amount of fun as she heard a soft knock on her door and then Ron's voice which spoke:

"H-H-Hermione, are you there? Harry told me you didn't want visitors, but please open the door."

"Just a minute," she called but fell over because her legs felt like jelly, "Whoops (giggle) I think I just fell (giggle) I don't think I can get up."

"Hermione, are you alright?" Ron called through the door.

"Mmm," Hermione hummed and collected her wand, the bottle of fire whiskey and her Latin poetry collection.

"If you'd like, I could come back later…" Ron offered.

"Right you are," Hermione called and began walking towards her secret passage, "Friends."

The old wizard studied her with concern in his eyes. It was something Hermione didn't notice as she stumbled around in the darkness, keeping herself from falling with a little amount of help from one of the cold stonewalls.

"It's too bad, but hey, that's me. What goes around comes around, you'll see. That I can carry the burden of pain. Cause it ain't the first time that a man goes insane, and when I spread my wings to embrace him for life. I'm suckin' out his love, I, I'll never be nobody's wife!" She sang happily as she made her way through the darkness. Anouks song seemed right to sing, especially the last sentence 'I'll never be nobody's wife'.

She reached the end of her "emergency exit" and found herself in almost complete darkness. She muttered as she reached for her wand and spoke:

"L-l-l-lushmus! Damn it! L-l-lush… LUMOS!"

The tip of her wand started glowing as a direct result of her, on the third attempt, correctly spoken charm. She began walking and after a while she was in the corridor, she stood there for a while and wondered if she should take a midnight-stroll to Hogsmeade or if she should keep herself inside the castle.

'I probably won't get the password to that god damned dragon right anyway,' she thought and began walking through old corridor, curiously wondering where it would lead her.

'Slytherin area,' her little and slurring, logical voice told her.

She took a sip directly from her bottle and made a face, she didn't like the taste but still, the fuzz around her was comfortable and those clouds that floated around her were funny looking. Somehow her problems drifted far away in some deserted part of her mind.

'Oh looky, what a strange painting. What is such a wonderful piece of art doing down here?'

She stared at the very detailed picture; it depicted an old wizard with green, and probably, expensive clothes. His eyes were almost black as the tunnel, his hair neatly tied back in a black ribbon. He had a snake wrapped around his right hand, as if the snake was friendly.

"Good afternoon, Mr," she cheered and made a toasting gesture as she took another sip.

"Stay out of my way, you filthy mudblood," snarled the painting.

"That's not a nice way to tell me 'good day'," Hermione answered sulkily, "And how did you know I was a muggle born?"

"I don't want to talk with you, mudblood," the painting sneered, "But if you must know, I guessed that because no proper wizard would get drunk on a Thursday evening."

"I'm not 'drunk'," Hermione protested, "Just a bit tipsy and I know many wizards whom would get drunk on a Thursday."

"I said 'a proper wizard', a wizard whom won't mix with mudbloods."

"Name a proper wizard," Hermione demanded, clearly outraged.

"Well, the noble Blacks, Crabbe, Dolohov, Lestrange, the-"

"Don't give me that bullshit. They're all Death Eaters. They're not proper."

"Quiet, mudblood, whilst better people are speaking," the painting roared, "You want a proper name? Well I can give you the Macnairs, Nott, and the Malfoys."

"The Malfoys?" Hermione doubled over laughing, almost threatening to spill her liquor, "Well, then you'll have to think of me as 'proper' because tomorrow night I'll be a Malfoy."

"Outrageous," the man in the picture gasped, "Who are you going to marry? Who in that old and noble family line would sink so low? I bet he's been disowned."

"I'll marry the head of the family; I don't think anyone will be able to disown him," Hermione laughed and took another sip, "He's quite famous, maybe you've heard of him. His name's Lucius."

"Lucius Malfoy?" The painting almost fainted from the shock, "Of course I know him, I'm the guardian to the noble Severus Snape and sometimes he'll tell me about his friends."

"So Snape's living in here?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Yes," the painting answered icily.

Hermione didn't know what had gotten in to her, but all of a sudden she felt a strange desire to investigate the purebloods way of living. Maybe it was the liquor or maybe she'd always been curious about the mystery that was their potions professor, because suddenly she piped up:

"How will I pass you?"

"What? I'll never let a mudblood pass me," the portrait shrieked.

"But if I speak the right password you'll have to let me pass," Hermione pointed out.

"You don't have the password from what I can see."

"You'll never know," Hermione hummed.

She searched through her mind for something that could give her a clue about Snape's password, but everything was fuzzy and her memory betrayed her.

"Casus accido Gryffindor," She piped up and smiled brightly.

"Not anywhere near," the portrait snarled, "Go home you miserable, dirty mudblood."

"I'm a sadistic bastard," Hermione tried and looked hopeful.

"You'll only ridicule yourself further," the portrait mocked.

'Idiotic painting,' Hermione thought and almost fell down on the floor.

"Sors immanis, et inanis," she mumbled, repeating the beginning of the second verse of 'O fortuna'.

"What!"

Hermione found, to her suprise, that the rude pureblood in the painting was hung upside down and that he reveiled a wooden door, apparently Snape was a bit paranoid.

"You'll never know," Hermione answered and smiled brightly. She thought about the irony that Snape read poetry, in Latin no less.

"Miss Granger, what are you doing down here and-" Hermione's heartbeat stopped as she heard Snape's silky voice, apparently Snape just realised that she'd succeeded to open his chambers. "What in the world are you doing? Ignorant Gryffindor fool."

'My god, sweet Merlin, it's over, he'll kill me or even worse, get me expelled,' her logical part of mind shrieked.

'Pretend to be drunk. Act,' she told herself.

'I am drunk,' she answered.

'Even worse, pretend to be out of your mind.'

'Do something, I don't want to get expelled, I don't want a filthy reputation.'

"My, my, my... you are in deep trouble, Miss Granger, breaking into a professor's private chambers! I knew you were ignorant and stuck-up but this... oh, maybe you'd just handed me a delicious little thing that'll bring a huge spot in your otherwise clean record... I can see it now, and Minerva's face as I tell her."

'Shit – do something – say something. NOW!'

"Oh, hi, Professor," she greeted in a slurry voice, "I was just about to visit you. Do you think that you can open this door so we might go inside and talk for a minute?"

'Good one, Hermione,' she cynically told herself.

"What are you...?" Snape's eyes threatened to bulge out from his eye-sockets, "Are you DRUNK, Miss Granger?"

"Cheers to fire whiskey," Hermione giggled and put on her most innocent smile. As if to emphasise her point, she raised the fire whiskey bottle and took a deep sip.

"You have no idea but how much trouble you are in now," Snape threatened and came closer.

"In trouble?" Hermione put on a blank expression, "I'm in trouble?"

"Don't give me that. If I could, I would give you detention for a year. But as it is you're getting married tmorrow and leave for-"

'This is it, try to gain his sympathy.'

'Sympathy? From SNAPE?'

Hermione started crying, huge drops of salty water spilled from her cheeks, then she threw herself at Snape (despite the fact that she was inwardly mortified of her own behaviour) and clung on to him. She tried to ignore the scent of un-cleaned clothes, sweat and other, un-identified scents.

"Miss Granger, remove yourself from me this instant," Snape barked.

Hermione held her breath, suddenly everything was just too much. The suspense, everything. She recalled vomitting on Snape's black clothes and then...darkness.

Fate is against me
in health
and virtue,
driven on
and weighted down,
always enslaved.

So at this hour
without delay
pluck the vibrating strings;
since Fate
strikes down the string man,
everyone weep with me!

Apollonia2

Hm, yes, she knows about the virgins suit – but problem is, does she believe it? Take it seriously? –evil laugh- what fun would it be if she avoided using that wonderful dress?… on the other hand, is that dress the real one? –laughs- you'll just have to stick to this story to find out –twinkle- thanks for reviewing :)!

Hotskittles:

Thanks for reviewing my work:) yeah – I like un-original, that's the fun… -ahem- and one Lucius Malfoy just makes it… -uhm- even more fun!

llGeekGoddessll:

Mhm, very interesting story ;) and LH/HG is the best pairing in the fiction world, but without doubt one JK would be mortified.

Nightwater:

Yeah, I know, but that's fixed now thanks to my beta :)

Tigermage:

Wow! I'll take that as an compliment because god should know that with fic's like "Gray" in the fiction world its quite hard to become "great" THANKS!

Morrigane:

Oh! I'm so sorry! No Lucius in this chapter either :( but he'll show up in the next one… which would contain their wedding –dun, dun- … can't you try to translate it yourself? –pleads-

Dark Secret1:

mwahahaha- think I confused you just a tiny bit there… -hmms- nope, she'll not be drunk during the wedding night! What fun would that be?

Fiction a-z:

laughs- I'm writing, I'm writing:)

xxXGoddessXofXdeadXloveXxx:

You're soon there! They'll get married in the next chapter… patience! Yeah, the dress, I myself like the idea… but I'm not sure where it's taking me yet… :S

Sexy-jess:

Yeah – that's why he was so surprised in that chapter, surprised or pleased? I cannot tell, just yet. –laughs- Yes, Gin had sex with Harry and her describing it was quite funny to write!

Storygirl2009:

Hmm… as it looks for now I think you're right, probably a lot more chapters but I cant promise anything…

No totaly! I can't wait for the movie either, I live Jason Issaccs and the way he's portraying Lucius Malfoy… just as I imagined from the books… -sniffs- too bad JK put him in prison! Everyone complained and whined about Sirius death and I where completely destroyed by the fact that my favoriture blonde ended up in prison! –cries-

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Coming up:

What's going on? The wedding is here! Yes! Finally… and we'll see Lucius again and Draco… and what's up with him by the way? -hinthint- see yah!