Disclaimer: Characters, themes, and backgrounds of Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., and their affiliates. I only wished I owned the brooding, sardonic D. Malfoy.
Author's Note: I need positive and helpful criticism, please!
Chapter 1
"And I will always love you," the singer ended her sweet melody. The small church was crowded this Saturday morning. Wizards and witches on the priest's left and muggles on his right. This gorgeous June day was to be that of the grandest wedding in all of England. As the Weird Daughter, the only surviving relative to the famous Weird Sisters after the Great War, sat down, the priest and the audience returned their attentions to the bride and groom.
There she stood, the most beautiful bride in years. In a dress woven of unicorn mane, angelic light emitted from her skin. Many jealous men in the audience admired how the fabric hugged in the slightest v form from around her shoulders and across the curves of her chest. Many witches wondered how her waist was so thin yet her hips and other curves so defined in the flowing magical material.
"She must have used magic," said one blonde witch sitting in the very back row.
"She is magic," muttered the blonde's husband, earning himself a forceful swat to his noggin.
Her hair fell gently down her back, pin straight with random curls throughout. With a halo of baby's breath, this woman could take the breath of any man away. But she was more than a beautiful gown and stylish hair. She was even more than her intense chocolate eyes, button nose, plump rose lips, and glowing olive skin. Every person in the church knew she was coveted due to her generous heart, quick wit, and unmatched intelligence.
That groom she was marrying was the luckiest man alive. At least that's what everyone told him a million times. "Bloody right," was his response every time. There he stood, shaggy hair ruffled like the style of the times, imported Armani suit, which was a present from his quidditch team, and platinum ring in his hand. As he slipped the ring onto her left ring finger, an audible sigh was heard through the church.
Then she was about to complete her vows. "Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband," asked the priest.
"I…" was all she got out before dozens of masked men in black leather robes broke into the ceremony. Before her soon-to-be husband could stop them, three of the men grabbed her and apparated away. The other men continued to throw spells around the room. Everyone was in too much of a shock to realize no one was hurt, but the walls had been the masked men's targets, charmed to prevent tracking spells. Finally all the men were suddenly gone. Harry Potter didn't catch her in time. Ronald Weasley couldn't save her. Her friends rushed to the alter. Ministry workers barged through the doors demanding to know what happened. Some went straight to performing memory charms on the muggle guests. Others were identifying the charms on the walls. One spoke with the Boy-who-Lived.
"It was His Avengers. They've come to seek their revenge. They took her away on her wedding day," his voice trailed off as he noticed something shining on the ground. He picked up the wedding ring as one lonely tear fell. She was taken from them. She had made it so far. She was so close to the happiness she deserved. And she was pulled away from it all. He pocketed the ring and walked over to Ron. "She means a lot to both of us, I know." Harry barely whispered the rest, "we'll get her back. We'll get her back to her wedding, no matter what."
She could see the beach through the large pane windows. She could hear so many cars bustling past on the road behind her. She smelled the faint rich aroma of expensive cologne. But she was helpless. Magical bindings on her hands and feet. Her mouth gagged. She wasn't even granted the dignity of being bound to a chair or pipe. She was still dressed in her wedding dress, bound to the headboard of a massive black bed in what could only be explained as the most divine bedroom she had every seen. It disgusted her. And with thoughts of what my happen to her, disgust was met with fear.
In an adjacent room, the captured bride could hear muffled whispers of several men. It must have been the voices of her captures. Some suggested they torture her. Others say they wipe her mind. A few even recommended that they chop her into little pieces and feed her to their snakes. Those who suggested that were placed under torture spells by whoever was leading them. Then a voice that sounded strangely familiar rang out amongst the others. "I want her as my slave. I have been the most loyal of us all. I want to use her as my tool to gain power. I want to use her as my tool to gain control. I want her," he told the others. The voice that she assumed was the leader's consented, calling the other man his "second in command" as well as "the first place winner of the Mudblood".
Popping noises were soon heard, announcing the leave of the men. Or so the bride thought. One of the doors leading out of her prison was opened. A tall man with blinding platinum hair walked through. Even in the dark lighting of the night, his aristocratic features and icy gray eyes were identifiable. The bride gasped as she recognized her captor. "Malfoy, why have you taken me here? Where are we? Let me go!" she cried.
"Sorry Granger," he drawled in his snide powerful voice, "you're in America and you're at my mercy now."
Hermione Granger began sobbing as she watched Draco peel layer by layer of clothing off. First his wizard robes, then, surprisingly, muggle shirt and trousers. As he seductively crawled his way up the bed to her, he was clad solely in boxers. His hands snaked across her body as he pulled himself to lie just above her. He nipped gently at her ear before whispering, "They are all around watching us. If you want me to help you get back to your beloved Wesasel, please go along with it." Suddenly he dived into her neck, sucking and licking and biting his way across to her other ear, only to say, "trust me. Or else you're dead." At that he continued to kiss her neck, the exposed regions of her chest, nibble at her ears, and give the other Avengers a show.
Once Nott was sure Malfoy wouldn't abuse his present, Nott commanded that they cease to spy on their comrade any longer. When Malfoy was sure they were no longer peaking into his room, he whispered the slightest apologies to Granger and fell asleep. Hermione couldn't sleep. She lie there empty of tears, thankful at least that she had a chance, and wondering if it was disgust of reapect that kept Malfoy from kissing her lips. Either way, she was somehow grateful to the slimy git. A spy throughout the War and never caught, he was now trapped as a spy against the Avengers. While sadness was still engulfing her, the beautiful bride of Ronald Weasley held hope in her eyes as she finally drifted off to sleep.