Much to Hermione's anxious aggravation, Narcissa Malfoy refused to tell her where they were going dress shopping. The only information that Draco's mother had given her was that at noon on Saturday there would be a Portkey at Malfoy Manor waiting to take her and her guests to the bridal suite, and to prepare appropriately.
Hermione had no idea what that meant. Luckily, Ginny Potter did.
At a quarter past eleven on Saturday morning, Ginny and Molly Weasley came shuffling through her hearth into her living room. Molly had brought a box full of homemade pastries because she had correctly guessed that Hermione had skipped breakfast out of dread. Ginny had a bag full of items she claimed were necessities for wedding dress shopping.
As Molly tutted around her and guilted her into eating two pastries, Ginny went on and on about the different styles of dresses she insisted that Hermione try on. Hermione was not a stranger to fashion, but wedding dress fashion was an entirely different beast. She did not know the difference between an A-line and a mermaid cut, but she had a suspicion she'd be finding out.
Despite only being at her flat for a half hour, Molly somehow managed to feed Hermione, feed Crookshanks, clear a sink full of dishes, and tidy up the kitchen and living room all while carrying on a coherent conversation and without Hermione noticing what she was doing.
She adored Molly Weasley.
When they arrived outside Malfoy Manor, Hermione suddenly realized that neither Ginny nor Molly had seen Narcissa Malfoy since Molly had killed Bellatrix Lestrange.
She froze in horror at the gates, then turned to Molly. "I'm so sorry," she said. "Molly, I didn't even think about bringing you both here."
Molly reached up and patted her cheek. "Don't worry dear," she said. "Mrs. Malfoy's been in touch with me already." Then Molly pushed the gates open and started towards the Manor, leaving Ginny to drag a shocked Hermione behind her.
She really adored Molly Weasley.
Narcissa greeted them at the door and hugged them all tightly, and it was off to the races for Molly and Narcissa. The immediate camaraderie between the two women left Hermione stunned and Ginny thoroughly amused. Since they had time before the Portkey activated, Narcissa brought Molly on a brief tour of the Manor and out onto the patio, where she pointed to the different areas of her garden.
"I keep it enchanted for year-round growing," she explained. "I'm not fond of cold weather, as you can tell." Despite being October, it was unseasonably warm outside the Manor and only outside the Manor.
"You'll have to tell me about how you do it," Molly exclaimed. "We grow so much of our food at home, you know. It'd be wonderful to have the weather in the gardens sustainable like that."
"I'll come by and show you," Narcissa offered. "I'd love to see where Hermione spent so much of her summers as well." She checked the time and clapped in excitement. "Our Portkey is just about to activate. Shall we?"
The five women returned to the entryway, where Winky had just finished setting the Portkey on a table for them. They formed a circle around the small silver cup and waited for the seconds to countdown. At noon exactly, the cup glowed blue.
Just before they all reached for it, Hermione caught a movement at the top of the stairs from the corner of her eye. She glanced up and saw Pansy peering around a corner and over the bannister at them.
"Wait!" Hermione cried, and her companions withdrew their hands in surprise. Hermione turned to face the stairs. "Pansy, do you want to come with?"
Pansy stepped out from around the corner a bit more, eyeing her warily. "You're inviting me to shop for your wedding dress?"
"Erm, yes," Hermione confirmed. "I realize it may be awkward, but you're welcome to come with." She paused. "I would like you to come with, if you want."
Pansy took another step out, hesitated for a moment, and then nodded. She descended the stairs quickly and slipped into place beside Narcissa, across from Hermione. "Thank you."
The Portkey whipped them with alarming speed into the sky and seconds later they were deposited into a cobblestone alleyway between two tall buildings of pale stone. Hermione looked up at the sky as her head stopped spinning, then around to try to figure out where Narcissa had taken them.
"Oh!" Pansy gasped in delight, jumping a bit on her toes. "Oh, we're in wizarding Paris!" The excitement in her voice was more intonation than Hermione had ever heard from the witch before, which was why it took a moment for Pansy's words to sink in.
"Paris?" she wheezed, turning to Narcissa. Ginny squealed in excitement beside her and grabbed Hermione's hand.
"I have a dear friend who owns a bridal boutique here, he's thrilled to work with you," Narcissa answered, motioning for the group to follow her out of the alley. They trailed after her, Pansy and Ginny staring in awe and Molly and Hermione feeling horribly underdressed and out of place.
Wizarding Paris looked exactly like Muggle Paris, except for the people. Wizarding garb in Paris was eclectic, eccentric, and extravagant. Witches in full-length gowns and silken dress robes strode through the streets accompanied by men in impeccably tailored suits and custom hats. There would be no blending in with Muggles in Muggle Paris.
The street was lined with tall, twisting buildings not unlike Diagon Alley. The trees, though, were unique. The trunks were gilded, with the leaves colored blue or purple. The delicious smell of pastries wafted out of open bakery doors, and couples sat outside restaurants with enchanted goblets of wine that never emptied. The feeling of magic crackled in the air around them.
It was utterly intoxicating, and Hermione was wearing jeans and a jumper.
The bridal store was just around the corner. It was placed within a tall, ornate building between a luxury wand store and a luxury jewelry store. The bay window beside the door boasted three beautiful gowns on enchanted mannequins that moved and swirled to show the layers of glistening fabric. On the door, in thin gold script, was Bastien Bridal Designs.
The door opened as they approached, and a clear bell chimed as it did. They filtered in one by one after Narcissa, all gaping in awe at the interior of the building. Like most magical dwellings, it was bigger on the inside than it appeared on the outside. Long and narrow, the showroom was lined with racks of dresses in white and cream, with a few splashes of blush-colored fabric intermingled. The walls were covered in floor to ceiling mirrors with golden trim. The floor was a dark and luxurious hardwood. The ceiling was enchanted to glow with natural light.
"Merlin's tit," Ginny breathed next to her, looking around with wide eyes. Pansy overheard and snorted, uncharacteristically loud for her. This broke the overwhelmed silence, and the three young witches burst into giggles.
"Ginevra," Molly hissed, swatting Ginny's arm. "Your language, and in this store!"
This, of course, only led to more giggles.
"Narcissa! Did you give these girls champagne before they even arrived?" The group turned towards the man that had called Narcissa's name. A blonde-haired gentleman had appeared from between racks of dresses, carrying a tray laden with glasses of gold, bubbling drinks. He was average-height, with a tanned face that was broken into a wide smile. His voice was high and lilting, and his suit was immaculately cut.
"Bastien," Narcissa greeted, leaning forward to kiss his cheeks and he kissed hers. He handed her a champagne flute, and with a flick of his finger the others on the tray floated over to Hermione, Ginny, Pansy, and Molly, hovering in front of them. "I'm so pleased to see you, thank you so much for your hospitality and help."
"It's been ages," the man, apparently the namesake of the store, agreed. "I'm always happy to help a friend. Especially with this." The tray disappeared from his hands and he clapped them together, turning to look at the other four witches. "I do know who the bride is, but I'd love to be properly introduced to her and her entourage!"
"This is Hermione Granger, my future daughter-in-law." Narcissa moved to stand proudly next to Hermione. Bastien stepped forward and took Hermione's hand and kissed it before fixing her with a scrutinizing gaze that could only belong to a designer.
"Beautiful figure, beautiful skin, beautiful hair," he declared. "I have so many ideas already. Who are the rest of these lovelies?"
Narcissa introduced everyone in turn, and Bastien kissed each of their hands and complimented them as well. When he got to Molly Weasley, he grinned and asked, "The mother of the bride?"
"Just as good as," Molly confirmed. Hermione felt her heart simultaneously clench and swell, and she was keenly aware of the absence of her mother.
As a girl, she had sometimes imagined how wedding dress shopping would go. On the special occasions that she and her mother had gone to the fancy shops in London, they would always linger outside bridal stores and look at the dresses on display. Hermione had always envisioned her mother being present for her dress shopping.
She had also imagined her wedding as romantic and her marriage as perfect, with a man she loved. A man she had chosen.
The enchantment of the boutique dulled a little as the full gravity of what she was doing there hit her. Yes, store was gorgeous and the dresses she was about to spend a full day trying on were beautiful. Yes, she was with her closest friend, the woman that had stepped in when she had lost her mother, the woman that had accepted her with open arms, and a new friend she was slowly becoming fond of. Yes, she was drinking a very delicious and very expensive glass of champagne.
But none of this was her choice.
She downed her first glass of champagne and looked around, starting to feel a little frantic. Bastien was beginning to lead them down the middle of the store, gesturing from rack to rack, explaining how the dresses were organized – by fabric, by style, by color, by season. Narcissa and Pansy were carrying on a conversation with him about each rack, and Molly and Ginny were slowing down to look at individual dresses that caught their eyes.
The room seemed to get narrower and narrower, and Hermione felt like she no longer remembered how to breathe.
"Golden Girl?" Pansy asked, brow creased in concern. She had turned and noticed that Hermione had frozen, empty champagne glass clenched in her hand. "You alright?"
"I need the loo," Hermione forced out. Bastien smiled sympathetically at her and pointed to a small hallway that she previously had not seen. She handed her empty glass to Ginny and bolted down it, barreling into the toilet just as the nausea in her stomach crested. She vomited, and when she was done cleaning herself up as best she could, she sat on the floor of the bathroom and hugged her knees to her chest.
After a long moment of trying to center herself by breathing deeply and reciting charms in her head, she forced herself to her feet and looked in the mirror again. With a trembling hand, she performed a quick glamour spell, fixing her reddened and tear-streaked face and frizzy hair. She put on a brave face.
As Hermione turned to leave the restroom, the door flew open and Pansy stepped in. Hermione leapt back in surprise and began to tell Pansy she was just on her way out when Pansy shut and locked the door behind her. The words died in Hermione's mouth.
"You're panicking," Pansy observed. "The others didn't notice, but I did."
Hermione wanted to argue with her. She barely knew Pansy Parkinson beyond the brief and unfortunate interactions they had had nearly a month before. She didn't want to be vulnerable in front of a woman who was functionally a complete stranger to her, and before had been her bully.
But who else would understand better?
"I am," she admitted. "I don't want to do this, I don't want to do this like this."
"So don't," the other responded, giving a little shrug. "You don't need to have an actual wedding, you know. You can just sign the paperwork at the Ministry and voila – married. Requirement fulfilled."
"But…"
"But what?" Pansy challenged, crossing her arms. "If you really didn't want to do this, you wouldn't have even come here." She tutted as Hermione started to disagree, silencing her. "No, you know what I mean. If you didn't want the wedding, didn't want the dress, didn't want the party, you and Draco would've just signed the papers and been done with it. You had time to think it through, didn't you?"
"That isn't fair," Hermione snapped. "We agreed to try, to cooperate."
"Cooperating means signing the papers!" Pansy exclaimed. "It doesn't mean going on dates, or sending each other little notes back and forth, or planning a bloody wedding! I cooperated!" Pansy pointed to herself with a trembling finger. "I cooperated, with Dunn and with the Ministry and we signed the papers. No dates, no agreements, no wedding, no care – that is cooperation."
Pansy heaved a deep breath and carded her hands through her hair. "He cares about you, Golden Girl. You may think I'm barking mad, but I think he's always cared about you and your friends and what's right and good. Even when he was a complete dick, his heart was never in it."
She looked at Hermione, eyes pleading. "He cares about you. Narcissa cares about you. I know that you care about him, so try on a bloody wedding dress."
Hermione's head was spinning. She could not deny that despite everything, she cared for Draco Malfoy. She also could not deny that deep in her logical brain, she knew that Pansy was right about him – even when he was on the wrong side, he had still only done what he had to do.
She remembered Malfoy Manor. She remembered laying on the floor with Bellatrix poised over her, sneering and spitting in her face as she carved Hermione's arm to shreds. She remembered the rancid smell of the witch's breath and she remembered thinking she was going to die.
She also remembered looking over and seeing Draco Malfoy through tear-blurred eyes. She remembered the look on his face, how distraught and panicked he had seemed. She remembered him looking away and covering his ears as she screamed.
Hermione remembered Harry and Ron dueling Narcissa and Draco. She remembered how weakly Draco cast his offensive charms, remembered that his heart was not in the spells he was casting at her friends.
She remembered how he had barely put up a fight when Harry had stolen the wands from his hands.
She remembered the terror in his eyes in the Room of Requirement, even as he and his friends confronted Harry. She remembered his relief when Harry saved his life. She remembered his quivering chin and tear-stained face as he stood amongst his classmates.
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.
Remembering hurt, but she remembered.
"I do want this," she breathed, looking at Pansy with watery eyes. "I want to enjoy this. I want to, and I do care, but my… what I wanted with my life, my plan, my choice." She gestured to herself and to nothing, but Pansy knew what she meant. She put her hands on Hermione's shoulders and squeezed.
"Choose to enjoy this," she said. "You're in Wizarding Paris. You're at a couture bridal boutique. You have an unlimited budget – and the fact that a Muggle-born is using it to buy a wedding dress for a marriage into an old Pureblooded family would have Draco's ancestors rolling in their graves."
They both giggled, an unexpected sound from Hermione. She wiped her eyes before Pansy continued.
"You're with your friends. Choose this."
Groomsmen. Groomsmen.
The problem of Draco Malfoy's groomsmen had been haunting him since they set the date for the wedding. It turned out that problem with most of your closest friends being either imprisoned for life or dead was that it left a rather short list of potential groomsmen.
His best man was obvious – Blaise Zabini was the first and only choice for that position. It hadn't even been difficult. What was difficult was that he had two other spots to fill, one more for each of Granger's bridal party.
As a way of avoiding the conundrum of groomsmen, Draco had thrown himself into a different wedding project, one that he was trying to keep under wraps.
He had been extensively researching Muggle weddings. It turned out that Muggle weddings were not so different from Wizarding weddings, apart from a few strange traditions that Draco couldn't quite wrap his head around. He didn't understand the significance of something old, new, borrowed, and blue. He didn't understand the bouquet toss. He didn't understand the significance of carrying his new wife over their threshold.
But despite not understanding it, Draco was going to make sure every appropriate Muggle tradition would be observed at their wedding, because he would be damned before Hermione Granger did not have the wedding she deserved even with the unfortunate circumstances of their union.
He didn't want to think too long on why it was that he was so worried about making sure she felt seen at their wedding – maybe it was that he was trying to make broad amends for how he'd treated Muggles before. Maybe it was an olive branch.
Maybe it was something more, something that was burning low and hot in Draco's chest and making his heart do funny little flutters.
He had been conspiring with Ginny Potter with short but detailed messages throughout the week to ensure that he had a woman on the other side to see to some of the traditions. He was grateful that Ginny seemed to be aware of most of the Muggle things he was talking about – she was, after all, married to a man who had been raised by Muggles.
Another thing Draco had been using to avoid selecting his groomsmen was planning two out-of-country trips. The locations he was looking at were too far to Apparate to, so he had spent quite a bit of time filling out applications for trans-continental Portkeys on an expedited basis. The Ministry had no issue granting Portkey applications for short day trips close by, like Narcissa's Portkey to Paris. They did, however, like to take their sweet time approving Portkeys for exotic locations and long lengths of time.
The first Portkey was for their honeymoon. The Malfoy family owned a quaint (by their standards) cottage in the French countryside, bordering a Muggle village that Draco thought Hermione would be quite fond of. In his childhood, Draco had spent extensive time exploring the grounds of this cottage and the woods behind it, which had magical properties and therefore housed several rare breeds of plants and magical animals.
He didn't remember much of the Muggle village, but according to his brief research there were several food shops and restaurants, and a few small stores that sold handmade goods and books.
He hadn't broached the idea of the honeymoon to Hermione, because he had been honestly afraid of her reaction, but he thought (or hoped) that she'd agree to it with no expectations or strings attached. It would just be ten days of enjoying the quiet, and nothing else.
The Ministry had not taken long to approve that Portkey, eager to encourage Marriage Law babies.
His other request, though, was taking longer to approve due to the distance he was requesting to travel and the purpose of the request. He hoped they would approve it sooner rather than later. He didn't have a backup plan if they didn't.
By Saturday, Draco was vexed to find that he had taken care of everything he needed to take care of to avoid dealing with the groomsmen situation. He found himself in his study, staring at a piece of parchment split into two columns. The column on the left was headed with Granger's name, and the column on the right was headed with his name.
Under Hermione's name was a list: Ginny Potter, Cho Chang, and Luna Lovegood. Hermione's bridal party.
Under his name: Blaise Zabini.
He needed two people to even out the parties. He wanted two more people to stand up with him, two more people that supported their situation and wanted to help them navigate it. Two more people that cared about both Granger and himself.
"Oh," Draco exclaimed aloud. "I'm an idiot."
Less than a minute later, he was standing before his heart with a handful of Floo Powder in his hand. He tossed it in, the flames turned green, and he spoke his location aloud.
Draco had heard of 12 Grimmauld Place before – he had read about it in old Black family texts and he knew that it had been both the headquarters of and a safehouse for the Order of the Phoenix during the war, but he had never been there. He hadn't had a reason to before today.
The Floo spit him out into the living room, directly in front of the sofa where a very confused and startled Harry Potter was sitting with the morning paper.
It took Harry a few full seconds to process that Draco Malfoy had just stepped out of his Floo, because why on Earth would Draco Malfoy be in his living room?
"Potter," Malfoy said by way of greeting, brushing soot off his shirt. "I'd like you to be one of my groomsmen."
Harry spluttered. "Sorry, you'd what?"
"Be. One. Of. My. Grooms. Men," Draco repeated, agonizingly slow and full of sarcasm.
"I heard you, you prat. I just wanted to make sure I wasn't hallucinating."
"Do you hallucinate often?" Draco leered. Harry did not answer, choosing not to rise to the bait of what was clearly an argument waiting to happen.
"Why do you want me to be your groomsmen?" he asked instead, folding the paper and setting it on the table beside him.
"Turns out when all of your ex-friends are either dead or incarcerated, you have very little other choice than The Immortal Child and Company."
Harry again ignored the invitation to a fight, but it was becoming obvious that Draco was incredibly uncomfortable and nervous and using his usual dickish behavior to mask that. It was almost endearing, in a way.
"That the only reason?" he prodded. Draco frowned and looked away briefly.
"No," he admitted. "Granger would appreciate it. I know she would, she loves you and Weaselbee."
Harry snorted. "You asked Ron, too?"
"Not yet," Draco muttered, picking an imaginary bit of lint off his sleeve. "I don't actually know where he lives, and I was rather hoping you'd pass the message along for me."
Harry doubled over with laughter, shaking his head. "Oh no, Malfoy," he cackled. "No way. You're going ask him yourself, and I'm going to watch."
Draco scowled. "Fine," he conceded. "Is that a yes, then?"
Harry wiped his eyes and stood up, reaching a hand out for Draco. Draco extended his own hand forward and clasped their hands together in a brief shake. Harry rolled his eyes and pulled Draco in for a hug, clapping him on the back.
"Of course it's a yes, you greasy git," he said. "You never had a thing to worry about."
