Chapter III:
AN: Dubious consent ahead!
Draco and Hermione's wedding was scheduled for the next weekend. It was held out by the Lake because of the unseasonably good weather, and attended by much of the student population. The eternal joining of the two students who hated each other most in the school was like a reality show come to the medieval castle. Everyone wanted a front row seat and a tub of popcorn. McGonagall performed the ceremony while Malfoy and Hermione stood sternly, she looking uncomfortably at his official witnesses: Nott, Zabini and Goyle; whilst Harry and Ron glared at him venomously from behind her. They spoke the unpersonalised template vows and placed their wands over each other's as McGonagall bound them with a symbolic gold ribbon and then she pronounced that the wizard could kiss his witch. 'Could' being the operative verb; one that indicates possibility. But everyone was looking at them expectantly. They both dove toward each other at the same time and somehow managed not to headbutt each other's faces off as their lips crashed together briefly and then they both pulled back again whilst the younger, more idealistic students laughed delightedly and threw seasonal flowers at them. When they'd kissed her mind had been blank, a mental block placed on it by herself to avoid having to experience the moment she'd been dreading. Afterwards though, she found herself thinking that it hadn't been absolutely terrible. His lips hadn't been like the giant squid in the murky waters below, her heart hadn't clenched with guilt that Ron was watching, she hadn't felt sick at him touching her. The thought itself made her feel sick. She hadn't hating kissing Malfoy.
The Room of Requirement hadn't been used since Crabbe had set off fiendfyre in the Room of Hidden Things and killed himself last year, but it had been decided that it would be used for the wedding nights. Naturally, Hermione was incredibly anxious as they walked up in silence after the official ceremony. She was confused as to why Malfoy wasn't belittling her as usual, but then she realised he was upset about his friend. She thought about reaching out to comfort him but he pulled open the door before she could decide. She followed him inside and saw a huge, offensively romantic king bed with a wooden board depicting a green and silver snake uniting with a red and gold lion. Malfoy snorted. "Subtle." She laughed as well, before she knew she was even doing it. He looked over at her surprised and she turned away to shut the door and hide her face. When she turned back around he was close behind her, making her jump. He put his hands on hers to still her, or so she thought. Then she felt cool glass against her skin and realised he was passing her a drink of wine. "Liquid courage?" She took the glass, thankful and frankly astounded by his comradeship. They clinked their glasses together and drunk, Malfoy staring over his drink at her as if waiting for something. Then she began to feel a strange tingling in her head. It was sort of like being tipsy, except she wasn't that much of a lightweight. She hadn't even finished the glass. Everything was kind of rose-tinted. The room, which had been a bit over the top, now seemed adorably perfect. The candles burning in the darkness smelt heavenly. Malfoy's blond crop of hair was like a halo over his head. His grey eyes reminded her of the stormy clouds she'd always loved to watch from inside, cuddled up in a warm blanket, but hated being drawn into. His robes, which he was now pulling off, made him look like Mr Darcy. She wanted to kiss along his cheekbones. She wanted to inhale his peppermint smell. She wanted to see if his hair was as soft as it looked. She wanted to entwine their tongues in a kiss she could actually pay attention to and focus on his taste. She wanted to slowly explore down his naked body and admire every masterful aspect of it. So she did.
Growling pleasurably, he lifted her up and she squealed in delight, wrapping her legs around his waist as he walked them slowly backwards, collapsing onto the bed with her on top of him. She kissed his face passionately but he was displeased with their unequal states of undress. He ripped off her dress robes, tearing them irreparably, not that she minded. As soon as it had landed on the floor it was forgotten. He admired the lacy underwear Ginny had forced her into, saying that even if she hated her husband this was still a night when she should feel confident in her sexuality. Then it was gone as well. He flipped her over expertly but she wasn't worried about her lack of experience. She knew he'd look after her. He was incredible. He loved her. He pushed into her and she clenched her fists and screwed up her face as he broke her hymen and a little blood spilled out onto the sheets, but he shushed her and stroked her hair comfortingly to calm her down. The pain didn't last too long and once she was through it, it was overpowered by a wave of pleasure that made her exhale "Draco!"
It was magical and beautiful, and afterwards they both collapsed on the mattress and curled up in each other to sleep.
When Hermione woke up she was momentarily disoriented. Then she felt the warm, bare body spooning her. She shrieked in dismay, waking up said body, and practically fell off the bed. "Look away!" She screamed as she yanked the duvet off the bed to wrap it around herself, covering her own eyes when she saw parts of him she'd never admit made her flustered.
"Too late for that..." Malfoy leered, not making any moves away from his position on the bed. Nor did he show any shame in his utter nudity. Bloody prat knew that he looked like a painting of some perfectly shaped Greek god. "Bad dreams, wife?"
Actually they'd been rather vulgar and sinfully enjoyable. Hold on. She didn't remember any awkward, fumbling first time. That perfect dream had been real. Her mind reeled backwards, fixing on the moment when things had changed. "Did you roofie me?"
"I've no clue what the ceiling has to do with this."
"Oh for Godric's sake Malfoy!" She cried out. "Did you drug the wine?"
He frowned at her. "Didn't you enjoy it?"
Her forehead furrowed. "That's not the point, you can't take the choice away from me! I don't want a baby born out of that!"
"But it was much better than it would have been otherwise," he justified himself. "Half of our Pureblood classmates were born through love potion."
"So was Voldemort!" Her infuriated stomp sent waves through the floor but he didn't seem to care.
"The Dark Lord wasn't evil because his parents didn't love each other," he snorted. "Plenty of parents don't love each other and have fully functional children." Interesting as it was to hear him describe his master as dysfunctional, she was still raging.
"Swear that you'll never do it again."
His slate eyes were colder than ever before as he stood up in the nude, walking over to her to whisper, "certainly. Next time I'll make sure you suffer through every torturous, agonising minute of it." He leant in to her ear to whisper softly, "and I will ensure it is exquisitely so."
