You've got as much charm as a dead pixie – Lucius Malfoy
Hermione closed her eyes and inhaled slowly. She could do this. She could suffer through the silent judgement and scrutiny. It was only one day out of her life. It might have felt like an eternity, but it wasn't. She could do this.
"Up, up, up! It's going to be a big, big, big day!"
She could put on the dress. She could sit patiently while her hair was abused. She could affix a tight smile on shimmering blush lips. She could walk down that aisle directly toward Draco Malfoy. She could speak the words she'd already spoken. It was for show. It was all for show and as long as she reminded herself of that small fact, she could do this.
"Her hair would be much prettier if she'd let us straighten it." Narcissa pursed her lips and viewed the golden brown curls with a critical, disapproving eye.
"I distinctly recall Draco shouting at you for even considering it. In fact, I do believe he said he would shear his father bald and adhere the hair to your face." Pansy smiled sweetly and affixed yet another diamond barrette amidst the curls.
Hermione snorted and quickly covered her mouth. She did not need Narcissa's wrath on her wedding day. It was already a precarious situation considering Lucius was half in his cups. She fervently hoped Draco was faring a bit better than she.
"You're not even trying," Narcissa sniffed.
"I'm covered in taffeta."
"It's chiffon!"
"I'm doing this for you," Hermione grumbled. "I don't know what more you want from me."
"Try harder, see, like this," Narcissa stretched her lips wide in some semblance of a smile. "I'm smiling at you even though you're aggravating me."
"The Greengrasses have arrived."
Hermione spun toward the demure voice despite Pansy's snarls, surprised to see Hannah Abbott slipping into the bedchamber. She hadn't given the quiet Hufflepuff much thought, not really. In fact, she hadn't given much thought to many of her former classmates and was shocked to discover Narcissa Malfoy had invited nearly everyone.
"Marguerite and Daphne?" Hermione inquired.
"And Johnathon as well," Hannah sighed. "I fear there will be quite the row before the evening is done."
"Oh please, they'll be nothing in comparison to Potter and Brown's attendance. Lovegood has stationed herself in the entryway. Rows and sex, just what any good wedding requires." Pansy cackled and downed yet another flute of champagne.
Hermione clenched her teeth, closed her eyes, and inhaled through slightly flared nostrils. She wasn't particularly fond of Pansy but for Ron, she would try. Her mental list of compromises could probably fill an entire scroll.
"The subtle art of aristocracy has been lost and replaced with the crassness of youth."
Hermione clamped her lips together and merely stared at her future mother-in-law. It was best to remain silent; she'd discovered that aeons ago. Narcissa Malfoy was formidable and manipulative; therefore, the wedding was an ostentatious affair that set Hermione's teeth on edge.
"Are we nearly finished?"
"Have you considered wearing the tiara?" Narcissa's blue eyes roved the bride once more, her hands fluttering near invisible crinkles in the chiffon. "It is quite the tradition and—"
"I've had enough of traditions!" Hermione's cheeks flushed, eyes flashed, and hands clenched into fists as she exhaled through her teeth. "I've remained quiet. I've attempted to do what you consider duty. I have had enough. I've bit my tongue while I've been prodded, poked, and criticized for this ridiculously opulent and unnecessary affair."
"Unnecessary?" Narcissa's teeth gnashed together and even Pansy had enough sense to retreat.
"Absolutely unnecessary. Malfoy and I are already bloody married. We're doing this to appease you; you and your traditions. You guilted us into this. It isn't what we wanted, what I wanted. I wanted a simple affair with a handful of close friends and it's turned into a fucking carnival!" Hermione crinkled the chiffon in her hands and stepped toe to toe with the blonde matriarch. "I will walk down your aisle. I will compliment the fairy lights. I will smile for photographs. I will sit down to your ridiculous twelve-course dinner. I will sit in your carriage and wave appropriately. I will also drink entirely too much champagne and wish I could hex all your guests; let's not pretend they're mine.
'However, I will never place your prejudiced mother's tiara on my head. I will never live in Malfoy Manor. I am going to work for as long as I like as I have absolutely no interest in sipping tea and gossiping. I will have children when I damn well feel like it. My husband and I will choose our children's names and you can wager that Scorpius is not a consideration despite your begging. I have the right to live my life as I choose and you have interfered for the last time."
Hermione exhaled, her fingers shaking, heart pounding in her throat. She knew she shouldn't have shouted. She knew she probably should have smiled demurely and acquiesced but she was at her limit.
"Cissa is speechless. I don't think that's ever happened before." Pansy swallowed the last dregs of her champagne, wide-eyed and slightly afraid.
Knuckles rapped lightly on the door, easily heard amidst the tension filled silence. Hannah eased around the two angry witches, grateful she'd confiscated wands. She gasped, surprised to see Theodore Nott inches from her.
"It's time."
"You're going to have to apologise." Draco swayed slowly, his arms filled with chiffon.
"I'm not apologizing. I'm not sorry. I know she's your mother, but she's ridiculous."
"I didn't say you needed to be sorry, love." He kissed his wife's cheek and spun her slowly, his eyes darkening with desire.
Draco met his father's bleary eyes over Hermione's head and smirked as he bent to kiss her cheek. There was something satisfying about seeing Lucius Malfoy stumble toward the champagne fountain, his face filled with revulsion. Lucius never was fond of public displays of affection; despite the fact, it was a wedding.
"Margie, don't be like this."
Johnathan Greengrass blubbered, his apple-round cheeks slick with tears as he lumbered after his wife. Marguerite, on the other hand, sniffed with disdain and sneered. It was uncustomary to see the usually docile witch manifest anything other than a dutiful smile.
"I do believe I said this wasn't the place for such nonsense, not that you listen. Are you incapable of comprehension or simply stupid?" Marguerite wrenched his hand from her elbow with a hiss. "At least you had enough sense to leave your daughter at home."
"Our daughter, don't be like this, please," Johnathan pleaded.
"Our daughter is dancing the night away with that lovely dragon handler Weasley boy. Your daughter shagged half of Hogwarts and still managed to come up roses. You should be pleased she's a Longbottom. They're a respectable family." Marguerite inclined her head and sipped her champagne, completely nonplussed with her husband's subpar snivelling.
Draco narrowed his eyes as Johnathan angrily yanked on Marguerite's arm and it was only Hermione's subtle head shake that kept him from instigating a much bigger scene. He didn't like the man one bit and it was obvious the bloke hadn't a shred of decency. He sidled closer to the couple, Hermione in tow, determined to eavesdrop and perhaps maintain the precarious shroud of peace.
"I explained everything to you ages ago," Johnathan mumbled. "You said you forgave me. She was nothing. She didn't mean anything at all. I couldn't abandon my daughter. Her mother died. She was just a Mudbl—"
The resounding slap caused the orchestra to falter and the guests winced while the stringed instruments warbled. Draco knew better than to meet his furious mother's eyes; he could feel them boring into his back. He released his hold on his wife and stepped forward, intending to interrupt the row, however it seemed Marguerite Greengrass didn't require his assistance.
"Yeah perhaps she was, but it didn't stop you from dipping your cock into her, now did it? She had a chance, Astoria did, to become a respectable witch. She had every advantage at her fingertips and yet you indulged her poor attitude and wondered how she had become such a slag. She takes after you, love." Marguerite inhaled deeply, a serene smile on her lips. "I want a divorce. I don't really know what one is but the lovely Ms Granger, or should I say the new Mrs Malfoy, told me all about Muggles and how sometimes men are forced to pay their wives not to live with them. I'd quite like that. Now, if you're quite finished embarrassing me and humiliating yourself, I do believe I'd fancy a dance with that lovely black stallion." Marguerite waggled her fingers at none other than Blaise Zabini and left her husband sputtering stupidly.
The animated whispers as the guests gossiped nearly drowned out the soothing tones of the orchestra. It seemed Narcissa Malfoy's perfectly planned garden party was nothing more than a dais for scandal. It was more than they'd ever hoped; it was perfect. Draco knew his mother would disagree but anything that drew the attention from he and Hermione was divine and he didn't waste a moment. He gathered her in his arms, mindful of the chiffon and smiled brightly as they spun in a lovely waltz.
"Your mother is glaring at me again."
"I'm fairly certain that's just her face now." Draco winked, his grey eyes full of promise.
Hermione shook her head yet her lips danced with a hint of a smile. He was incorrigible and he damn well knew it. He actually puffed his chest and offered his arm and it was so ridiculously pompous, she laughed.
"Luna looks really angry."
"Potter's dancing with his own wife." Draco nodded politely toward Theo and Zabini and sat beside Hermione.
"They actually look…happy."
"Look, we've got to sit through twenty-five courses and I really don't want to focus on bloody Potter."
"You're exaggerating," Hermione sighed and leant against his arm.
Draco scowled as his mother rang her stupid cunting bell. He hated that bell. He'd always hated it and he thought perhaps he would escape unscathed on his wedding day, but no, of course, that couldn't happen, not with his mother.
He couldn't keep his eyes from perusing his wife. It was strange and he didn't much like it. It was also stupid. She was his wife before his mother's ostentatious display and yet it suddenly felt real. He stared at her hand when it slipped into his and he closed his eyes.
"Do you feel it?" She asked, gently leaning into his side.
"Yeah," he sighed. He shook his head to clear the sudden fog, lascivious intentions sparkling in his eyes. "You can feel it too if you ask nicely."
He laughed lightly, her pink cheeks adding to her allure. Gods, he was an utter and complete sap and it didn't even bother him anymore. He would have liked to say nothing bothered him but he was surrounded by a gaggle of witches and wizards.
"Later." Hermione winked and he had half a mind to drag her into the nearest broom closet. "Nott and Zabini look entirely too serious for a wedding."
"Yeah well, it's that bloody case, didn't you hear?" Ron wobbled slightly on his approach and nearly missed the chair.
"You're inebriated," Hermione sighed, stating the obvious.
"Look," Ron shook his finger and his eyes crossed as his finger turned into multiple fingers dancing before his watery blue eyes. "It's a wedding. You're supposed to drink too much at a wedding, not to mention my sister. I mean, mum is beside herself, the DMLE thinks she's just run off, and they're too wrapped up in this bloody case to do fuckall about anything."
Draco's grey eyes darkened dangerously. He snarled toward Theo and damned if the rabbity bastard didn't turn on his heel and get lost in the throng of guests. Hermione's soft hand stroking his clenched fist didn't abate his fury.
There was obviously a break in the case and they were excluded. It was their bloody case! It was utterly reprehensible of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, not that anyone asked him. He supposed they were keeping their secrets in order to escape the wrath and far-reaching arm of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, not that he forgave them.
"This isn't the time, Ron," Hermione hissed.
"It isn't the time for a row either but that certainly isn't stopping Luna from having a go." Ron gestured drunkenly and licked his lips.
Draco held Hermione's wrist tightly and imperceptibly shook his head. Potter and Lovegood were on their own. He was not about to watch his wife insinuate herself into the mayhem. His mother would skin them alive and laugh while she did it. Potter might not survive and well, it was about time someone managed to off him anyway.
He looked to his father but strangely, Lucius was whispering in Narcissa's ear and smiling. It was disconcerting, to say the least, and sweet Salazar his mother blushed. She blushed. Draco swallowed the bile lodged in his throat and focused on Hermione's enticingly creamy cleavage.
"You can't do this. You can't stay with her. You belong to me!"
Luna Lovegood stood toe to toe with Harry Potter, blonde hair billowing out behind her, wand firmly clenched in a white-knuckled fist. Her dress, while conservative for Luna's standards, stood out amidst the sea of muted colours with its large flowers and butterflies. She shoved him and Harry stumbled backwards, knocking into a surprisingly silent Lavender.
"Luna, you keep saying that, but I don't belong to anyone!" Harry flinched away from a bright camera flash and found Hermione's disapproving glare.
"You do! You said it! Does your word mean nothing?"
Harry's temper flared, especially with Lavender quietly sniffling at his back. He knew he had hurt Luna and he freely accepted the blame for his transgressions. However, even he knew it wasn't appropriate to discuss such tawdry things in public, let alone at Hermione and Malfoy's bloody wedding.
"When the fuck did I say that I belonged to you?"
"After Slughorn's party, have you forgotten?"
"Luna," Harry groaned in exasperation. "You had my cock in your mouth. I would have agreed to anything for you to keep going! You can't hold me to that!"
She slapped him then, slapped him quite hard. The guests gasped, even as they pretended to be completely absorbed in their dinner. It was deliciously scandalous and they could barely wait to send off their owls. The Daily Prophet would feature the Malfoy-Granger wedding as was expected but only a fool would believe Harry Potter and Luna Lovegood's lover's spat would not be mentioned.
"Ms Lovegood, as fond as I am of you, I do believe it would be best if—"
"Oh, I'm leaving," Luna interrupted. "Don't you worry, Mrs Malfoy." She turned to Lavender with fiery hatred in her blue eyes. "Just remember Lav-Lav, when your finger is shoved up his arse as you're sucking his cock, I was there first."
"Luna! That is quite enough!"
Hermione Malfoy escaped Draco's grasp and marched toward her friend. She pitied the woman but Luna's outburst was absolutely unacceptable. She might not have wanted a large affair but she had one and she would be damned if it was going to be ruined with a sex scandal.
"Go home, Luna." Hermione waved over Theo, silently begging him to come forward. "Theo will ensure you arrive home in one piece, won't you, Theo?"
"Well, I wanted to stay for the cake. I heard it was a replica of Hogwarts."
"Oh for fuck's sake." Hermione tossed her hands into the air. "The hell with it. Do whatever you like. I give up! I think we should all drink until we can't remember our names."
"I'm with the Mudblood." Lucius laughed and raised his glass with twinkling grey eyes.
Hermione marched away from her husband the moment she untangled herself from his limbs. They had landed poorly as far as the Portkey was concerned and she blamed him for his wandering hands, not to mention his lips. She heard his hurried steps behind her and refused to wait for him.
"Dammit, Granger!"
"Don't start, Malfoy." Hermione crossed her arms beneath her bust and Draco appreciated the view of delectable breasts bouncing until her elbow jabbed his ribs. "You shouldn't have struck him. It was our wedding for Merlin's sake! What were you thinking! Your mother—"
"Will be fine. She's probably bathing in the champagne fountain as we speak." Draco snatched her wrist and interlaced their fingers before she could pull away. "He called you a, well he called you that word and you're a Malfoy. You're my wife and—"
"And I can take care of myself. Your male bravado is utterly ridiculous."
Draco rolled his eyes heavenward and yanked her toward the hint of civilization. He felt her shiver and tossed his arm over her shoulders on the pretence of keeping her warm. Frankly, it afforded him the opportunity to look down her dress and based on her knowing smile, she was not oblivious to his intentions.
"It was never about your inability to take care of yourself, Granger. I'm your partner, in life as well as at work. As if I don't know you can take care of yourself by now," he scoffed. "What would you have done then? Offered some scathing words and ignored it? Your wand was upstairs and you never would have jinxed him, not at our wedding. I probably shouldn't have punched him but come on, he was completely obliterated and probably won't even remember what happened in the morning."
"Violence is never the answer, Malfoy."
"Violence is always the answer in our line of work, kitten." Draco leant down and licked her ear, his arm tight around her.
He chuckled lightly as she gasped. He knew the chateau would impress her. It really was quite beautiful as far as dwellings were concerned. He'd kept the delicious little secret despite her begging and pleading. It was definitely worth it.
"I don't even know where we are," Hermione breathed.
"Cote d'Azur; I know we only have a few days and you were a bloody banshee about it as it is, but I thought you'd enjoy it." Draco shrugged in that affected sort of nonchalance that drove her mad and gestured toward the grandiose chateau.
His arm slid off her shoulders, lingered on her back, and finally rested on her hip while her lips gaped open in pleasant surprise. It wasn't often he could honestly surprise her. She was the sort of witch that would badger him until he was forthcoming but not this time and his cocky little smirk attested to it.
"How long are we here?" Hermione whispered, eyes wide as her gentle voice echoed in the marble foyer.
"Three days; it isn't much but with the caseload and the newly discovered body—"
"Let's not discuss work, not here, not now. I'm sure Theo is handling things marvellously."
Draco's hand was gentle on the small of her back and he guided her forward, remaining silent. He knew she would appreciate his silence as it allowed her to soak in every minute detail. He also supposed it wasn't the best time to inform her he had purchased it. He had dreams of vacating his Ministry position and perhaps even raising an ample family far from the prejudices of home.
She immediately scurried up the steps, laughing as her shoes clipped against the marble. Her excitement was infectious and he dutifully followed her as she threw open every door, sighing in delight.
"We should have married here!"
"Why don't we live here instead?"
"Wait, what?" Hermione slipped on the marble in her haste to turn toward him and was immediately enfolded in warm, strong arms.
"There's uhm, there's an impressive library. The view is breathtaking. Weasley might have mentioned your love of swimming so of course, there's a pool. There's loads of space for family and friends and the Floo is connected to the Network."
He swallowed hard and waited for her temper to flair, but it didn't. Instead, she threw her arms around his neck and smashed her lips against his. It seemed Granger liked surprises after all.
"How many bedrooms?" She asked against his lips, her eyes closed.
"Seven, which is far less than the Manor and the Cottage for that matter. My mother was absolutely aghast but the Grand Ballroom persuaded her that I hadn't chosen a hovel." His hands were filled with taffeta and chiffon and he didn't like it, not one bit. "I hate this dress."
"Blame your mother. This is too large for one person to upkeep and I'm really not fond of having elves despite their desire to serve." Hermione pulled away and gnawed her bottom lip, brows furrowed in silent contemplation.
"I hired a Muggle service. You don't even have to cook if you don't want too. I do think Jillie should come with us. She's quite attached to you and I'm fond of her. She's quite good with children—"
Draco was incapable of recalling the rest of his prepared speech. His brain had a tendency to clear his thoughts the moment Hermione's soft, warm, deliciously pliable body was pressed against him. It didn't matter that she was nearly strangling him in her exuberance. Gods, he loved her.
"Bedroom. Now."
He couldn't argue with that. He didn't want to argue with that. It didn't matter that all his plans of a leisurely tour and perhaps a titillating swim had been destroyed. He didn't need to woo her to bed. She was demanding and well, there was nothing sexier than that.
"The wallpaper is hideous," Hermione mumbled against his lips.
"All the décor is hideous, close your eyes and then we can't see it."
Draco fumbled with the ties on the back of her gown, his frustration mounting as his fingers tangled in the knots. It didn't help matters that he was completely distracted by the glaring white mark shimmering on her neck. His teeth pricked his bottom lip and he groaned, finally rending her dress down the back, despite her garbled groan of protest.
"Slow down."
Hermione crawled onto the enormous bed and Draco bit his knuckle. Her knickers were sheer, fucking sheer, and that contraption that displayed the curve of her breasts, along with the stockings and garter, was nearly his undoing. He didn't want to slow down!
"I can't."
Draco tore off his robes, kicked off his shoes and snarled at his belt buckle. He couldn't recall a time he'd ever undressed so quickly and he didn't want to try. His wife was reclined upon a mountain of pillows, dark curls cascading over her shoulders with bee-stung lips. He had to have her.
"Malfoy, Draco, your mother served twelve courses. If you jostle me excessively, there shan't be any shagging at all. Just this once, go slow. Just this once, pretend it's an act of love rather than a hurried shag against a wall or bent over a desk or hidden away in a broom closet. Next time, you can go back to calling me kitten and yanking my hair and spanking my arse and whatever else strikes your fancy, but please, just this once?"
Draco growled and it was probably the sexiest thing she'd ever heard. It was primal, laced with need, and nearly made her reconsider her request. He could see the indecision in her eyes as he languidly climbed over her supple body.
His fingers itched to tear touch her, yet he refrained. It was downright torturous. Why should he be the only one to suffer? He might as well share the pain. The pleasure would come in due time, it always did.
"What would you like, kitten?" Draco practically purred against her ear as he braced his weight on his elbows.
She reached for him, as he knew she would. He allowed her to grapple with his shoulders, tugging and pulling in quiet desperation. He leant down slowly and brushed his lips against hers until she groaned in frustration.
"Stop teasing me," she groaned.
"You requested slow, kitten."
He waited until she withdrew her arms and captured her wrists in a single hand. He yanked them over her head, pinning them to the feather pillow. Smirking, he wrenched her to the side and eagerly removed her ridiculous white contraption, freeing her constricted breasts for his perusal.
"This isn't slow. This is, this is torture." She arched her back, nearly pressing against his bare chest and thrashed her head.
"What would you like, love?" Draco eased his way between her thighs and continued to deny her, revelling in wanton moans.
"Oh my gods, Draco, just fuck me!" Hermione writhed and locked her legs around his hips. "I lied. I can't take it. I need you to fuck me. Just, just—"
"Just what?" Draco nipped her bottom lip and drew it between his teeth, sucking hard. "Details, love, I require details."
His eyes darkened while his name escaped her lips in a desperate, needy scream. He was strangely titillated by the power he had over her simply from withholding his cock. He rotated his hips, hissing as her damp, ridiculously small, knickers chafed against his weeping cock.
"I want," Hermione licked her lips, panting as she focused her thoughts. "I want to be bent over the marble table in the foyer while you spank my arse until it's red. I want your fingers twisted in my hair until my scalp hurts. I want to feel your hand wrapped around my neck while you fuck me into the bed. I want to feel your teeth pierce my skin an—fuck, yessss."
Draco tore her skimpy knickers and plunged into her depths with a single thrust. He groaned, unable to contain himself. His blond hair tickled her forehead and she whimpered when she felt his hand carefully close around her neck. His eyes bore into hers and the only sound was skin against skin, mingled with their exhales.
"Does my little kitten prefer a bit of pain with her pleasure?"
Draco withdrew, despite her squawk of discontent, and released her reddened wrists. He growled low and deep in his chest, drinking in her glistening flushed skin. He released her neck and glanced at the empty space beside her.
"I think I just might."
Hermione eagerly rolled to her side and tucked her knees beneath her. He nearly came when she glanced over her shoulder and licked her lips. Instead, he twisted his fingers in her hair, just the way she liked and slapped her arse hard enough to mark it.
He quickly slid between her folds and tugged on her hair until her back arched spectacularly. He leant over her, licked the shell of her ear and moaned as she clenched around him. She came quickly, her face buried in the duvet, and it was fucking perfect.
He wanted to race to the finish, desperate for release, but he wanted to see her face. He needed to see her eyes widen and her lips part. He needed to sink his teeth into her throat and hear her scream. He needed to feel her shatter around his cock one more time before he spilt into her; which is exactly what he did.
Later, as they lay entwined in a bundle of sweaty limbs, he mumbled against her lips. He knew she couldn't decipher the words, yet that was unimportant. He was saying them and knew she could feel them. He cursed himself for being a stubborn fool and cursed her just the same.
"I love you," she finally whispered, so quietly he nearly missed it.
He smiled fleetingly against her hair and mumbled, "me too", as his eyes fluttered shut, drifting off to sleep.
In the midst of a particularly delicious dream, which might have involved silk ties and a flogger, he awoke. It was quick, catapulting him immediately to wakefulness, and he didn't understand. Hermione was still nestled into his side and yet his anxiety was exceedingly high.
His grey eyes scoured the bedchamber, expecting danger in the shadows. His muscles were tense, skin slick with sweat and his heart, his fucking heart refused to calm. It didn't make a lick of sense and he had half a mind to wake his wife but he refrained, barely.
Draco carefully reclined on his luxurious feather pillow, vaguely wondering when he had lurched upwards. His clammy hand stroked Hermione's exposed back and it calmed him somewhat. There was a noise and he couldn't discern its origin until she tossed her arm over his hips and her body pressed into his side.
He swallowed with difficulty and pushed her knotted curls from her face, his fingers trailing down her cheek to her shoulder. It was impossible, wasn't it? Of course, it wasn't, but she wasn't ready; they weren't ready. Rather than dwell on his tumultuous thoughts, Draco smoothed his hand down her side and finally rested just below her navel. He tilted his head, listened to the gentle strum of butterfly wings, and closed his eyes, finally calm.