all characters belong to JKR

Day Four

Tuesday Morning:

It was now Draco's turn to wake up with a feeling of foreboding. He was in bed, trying desperately to tell himself that everything was going to work out fine. She was never going to find out why he originally wanted to marry her. No one would tell her and Draco knew he would never tell her, therefore she would never know the truth. They would get married on Saturday and live happily ever after. Well, maybe not happily, and perhaps not even ever after, but they were definitely getting married on Saturday. She promised. Draco looked over at Hermione's sleeping form and he wondered if she was going to act weird and distant today. He hoped not. He smiled when he saw that she had put on a nightgown. Each time they had sex, she would always sneak out of bed and put on a nightgown afterwards. She was modest. She was also a prude. He smiled again. She had her head on his right arm. He tried to pull it out from under her, but this caused her to stir, so he stayed still.

After a moment, he had to go to the bathroom, so he tried to move his arm again. His arm felt like it was made of lead, and as he tried to remove it out from under her head, he did certainly wake her. She opened her eyes, looked at him for a moment, and then turned her back toward him, and went back to sleep. She didn't even say good morning. She just stared at him and then rolled over. Draco got up and walked to the bathroom.

Hermione was not asleep. She just didn't want to face the day. Waking up would be acknowledging the fact that it was a day closer to Saturday, and Saturday was the day she was dreading. It was the day she was to get married. She heard Draco in the bathroom and she wondered why he didn't even say good morning when he left the bed. Was he angry with her? Why was he angry? She sat up in bed and looked at the bedroom door. Then she sank back into bed, put his pillow over her face, and let out a silent scream. Maybe if she kept the pillow over her head, she would suffocate, and then surely, if she were dead, she wouldn't have to go through with the wedding. The pillow smelled like Draco. She loved his smell. She took the pillow off her head and hugged it to her body. She loved Draco. She just really didn't want to get married. She wasn't sure why that thought made her so anxious, but the anticipation of waiting for Saturday to come was killing her. Would marriage really make her feel any different than she did at that moment?

She heard the shower start. She decided it would be a good time to get up. She would have to face him eventually. If Hermione was going to marry the man, then surely she could face him at the breakfast table. As she walked to the kitchen, she realized that if she had to articulate the main reason that she was afraid to get married, she would have to say it was for one reason and one reason only, because it all seemed too good to be true. Something bad was about to happen. She knew it without a doubt.

As if moving in slow motion, she fed her cat and put on the kettle. She got out two teacups and started to nibble on a biscuit. She heard the shower stop. For reasons unknown to her, she threw her biscuit down and ran back to bed. She pulled the covers up over her head. Draco walked out of the bathroom to the bedroom and saw Hermione still in bed asleep. He got his clothes, as quietly as he could, and went back to the bathroom. He heard the whistle on the kettle. He dropped his clothes and went to the kitchen. He saw a half-eaten biscuit on the floor and the kettle steaming on the stove. She had been up. Did she forget the kettle and just go back to sleep? Unlikely, Draco thought. He took the kettle off the stove and picked up the half eaten biscuit. He saw she had put out two cups. He decided to go ahead and make two cups of tea. He left them on the table and went to get dressed.

Hermione heard the whistle on the kettle. Damn! What an idiot. She threw back the covers and trotted off to the kitchen. Just as she reached the hall, she saw Draco leaving the bathroom, heading toward the kitchen. She snuck back in the bedroom, put her head around the door and watched him pick up her half eaten biscuit. She pulled herself back into the bedroom and mentally slapped herself for being so stupid. She saw him go back to the bathroom, so she made her escape, and headed toward the kitchen. He had poured two cups of tea. She took one and headed toward the bathroom. She knocked on the door, to which Draco opened, and handed the cup to him. He merely took the cup and shut the door again.

She walked back to the kitchen, and to say she was not curious as to why he was acting so strange would be to say that she was not intelligent with curly hair. What reasons would he have to be angry? Maybe he had a guilty conscience. That was probably what was going on. She picked up the second cup of tea, started to take a drink, but instead walked to the closed bathroom door, cup in hand, and threw it hard at the offending door, pretending that she was throwing it at his head! It smashed, the cup broke, and tea went everywhere. Some of it even splashed back on Hermione and burned her arm. He opened the door, shocked of course, and said, "What the hell?"

"Is that really the first thing you want to say to me this morning? No 'good morning, Hermione', or 'did you sleep well', or how about, 'thanks for the tea'? Really, Draco, is 'what the hell' the one thing you picked out of all the words in your broad vocabulary to say to me this morning?" she yelled, while holding her burnt arm.

He looked at her arm, and then said, "I thought it was an appropriate response, yes," and then he closed the door.

She went and got her wand to clean up the mess, but then thought, let him do it. Maybe he'll even cut himself. She healed the burn on her arm and then went back to the bedroom and slammed the door shut, hard.

He slowly opened the bathroom door, took his wand and cleaned up the mess she made, and then put his ear on the bedroom door to listen. He wanted to know if she was angry. If she were, she would probably be in there ranting and raving. He didn't hear anything. He shut his eyes; maybe that would make him hear better; and just as he did, she opened the door. She stood in the doorway with her hands on her hips and he stood upright and picked an imaginary piece of lint off his sleeve. She pushed him out of the way, while making a guttural sound, and raced off to the bathroom and slammed that door.

Draco didn't know what to do next. Why was she angry? What had he done? Why were they fighting? He waited for her to finish in the bathroom so he could ask her.

Hermione took a shower, the whole while thinking, 'why was he angry? What had she done?' She stepped out of the bathroom in only a towel, and he was just standing there in the hall, looking at her with a stupid smirk on his face. She pushed him again and went to the bedroom. Her push caught him off guard and he stumbled and hit the wall. He pushed himself off the wall, and as she tried to slam the bedroom door, he caught it instead. He stood there, holding the door, again with that damn smirk. She walked up to him, tried to push him once more, but this time he was prepared, and did not budge. Then Draco Malfoy did something that Hermione Granger would never have thought he would have done in a million years. He pushed her back. Not so hard that it was close to abuse, but hard enough to knock her on her bum, and she was in nothing but a towel!

"What is your problem, you stupid wanker?" she proclaimed from the floor.

"I don't have a problem. No problem at all," he said as he stood looking down at her with arms crossed.

She stood up and said, "Don't push me!"

"Then don't push me," he said. He was smiling. Did he think the situation was funny?

"What is your problem this morning?" she asked again; with a loud shrill to her voice.

"I wasn't aware I was having a problem, but you, on the other hand; you have a major malfunction today and it had better stop," he replied, while pointing his finger at her.

"Don't tell me what to do," she said.

Was he telling her what to do? Only if she took his statement literally. "Listen, Hermione, why are you angry?" He was getting frustrated. Usually it was fun to get her dander up, but today, he wasn't in the mood.

"I had no problem until you physically attacked me and knocked me down. I woke up this morning, and you didn't even say good morning. Then I bring you a cup of tea and you don't even say thank-you. What's got your wand in a twist this morning, Malfoy, guilty conscience or something?" she implied.

"What would I have to be guilty about, Miss Granger? Oh, and by the way, I hardly think knocking you on your rump constitutes battery, but maybe you Muggle-borns see things different." He took his jacket and went out the front door.

Hermione yelled some expletives at him. She probably thought he was long gone and would never hear her. In actuality, he was still standing outside their flat door listening. 'What did she say about my mother?' Draco pondered. He flung the door back open and rushed her. She didn't have time to think. He picked her up, put her over his shoulder, and deposited her outside the flat door. Then he slammed it shut and locked it. Maybe being outside in the snow in only a towel would make her cool down.

"MALFOY! You open this door this instant, you bloody prat!" she yelled. As she stood outside in only a towel, with wet hair, and snow under her bare feet, she saw Blaise Zabini, of all the godforsaken people she could have seen, walking up the stairs to their front door.

"Hello, Granger? Did you get locked out?" Blaise laughed, as he looked her up and down.

"Your stupid best friend put me out here, IN NOTHING BUT A TOWEL!" she yelled toward the door. He took off his coat and put it around her shoulders.

Blaise knocked on the door, and heard Malfoy inside say, "Are you ready to act like an adult and apologize?"

Blaise said, "Sure, I'm sorry, for whatever it is you think I did; now open the bloody door before we have frozen Mudblood out here."

Draco flung the door open and yelled, "I wasn't talking to you, and don't call her that!" Then he turned to Hermione, who was looking a little blue around the corners, from the cold, and he grabbed her shoulders and brought her inside. She threw off Blaise's coat, and went into the bedroom and slammed the door, again.

"Lover's spat?" Zabini asked with a grin.

"But of course," Draco sighed.

"When do you two not fight?" Blaise inquired.

"I'm not sure," Draco said in all honestly. Then he asked his friend what he was doing there.

"I'm here to tell you I rented the room for the bachelor party tomorrow night. Now, do you want me to invite some of Hermione's friends?" Blaise asked.

Draco made a disgusted face, but then said, "I suppose so."

With that being all Blaise needed to know, he was off. He picked his coat up from the floor and left.

Draco sat down on the sofa to read his morning paper. He had a funny feeling it was going to be a long day.

Tuesday, noon:

Hermione spent most of the morning in her room reading. She didn't even know Draco was still in the flat until she heard him outside in the hall. He knocked on the door of the bedroom and asked, "Granger, do you want to go out for a bite? I made us reservations for lunch, and then I thought we could get my dress robes and your wedding dress this afternoon."

Was he serious? Was their fight over, just like that? Why were they fighting anyway? If he was no longer angry, then by golly, neither was she. She opened the door and said, "Let me get my coat."

They arrived at the restaurant just a few minutes later. They went to this restaurant often. She really liked it here. There was an awkward silence between them, so they were both thankful when the waiter came to get their order. After the waiter left, and with Hermione still abnormally quiet, Malfoy decided on which tactic he should use to bring her out of her shell. Finally, he thought of something.

"Hey, Granger, would you rather have quail or pheasant for our reception?" She merely shrugged her shoulders. Then he asked, "Would you rather have a sit down dinner or a buffet?" Again, she shrugged. Her lack of attention was getting out of hand. Finally, he asked, "Would you rather be bathed in pig's blood or lamb's?"

That one she heard. "What?" she asked.

"In a Wizard wedding, the bride and groom have to bath in either pig's blood or lamb's blood. I was just wondering which you would rather." At that moment, the waiter brought their salads.

"I have been to a Wizard wedding before, Malfoy, so stop being a prat," she responded.

"Have you ever been to a pureblood's wedding?" he asked.

"Yes, Bill Weasley's," she responded.

"Oh, well, I'm sure they were too poor to afford the blood," he said as he took a bite of his salad.

"You are full of shite," Hermione said, although he had her slightly worried.

"You should have seen your face!" He started to laugh. "I think for a second you really believed I was telling the truth."

"Well, you purebloods are stranger than most. Maybe all those years of inter-family marriage have caused some decrease in brain cells," she said. He poured himself a glass or wine and then poured some for her. "You know, Malfoy, when I was a girl my friends and I used to play a game called 'would you rather'. You give someone two choices, and they would pick which they would rather do, for example, you might say something like, would you rather kiss a Hippogriff or a Blast-Ended Skwert," she explained.

"Why would you want to kiss either?" he asked.

"Well, that's the fun of the game. You might not want to do either, but you pick the one that would be the better of the two," she said with a smile.

He smiled back at her. He was not just smiling because she was; he was smiling because for the first time all day, he felt like he had HIS Hermione back. "Okay, Granger, let's play a game," he said.

"Oh yes, Malfoy, because we are ten years old," she said. He said that exact thing to her when they had their first date, and she wanted to play a game.

"I knew you had selective memory," he said. As the waiter brought them their lunch, Draco asked for another bottle of wine.

"Are you trying to get me drunk, because you know it's pretty early in the day to be drinking so much, don't you?" she chastised him.

Totally ignoring her statement, he said, "Okay, Granger, would you rather lose your magical ability or go blind?"

"Wow, both are rather depressing, but I guess I would rather lose my magical ability. I couldn't stand to be blind. I could never read again," she laughed.

"News flash," Draco retorted, "Granger picks reading over seeing."

"My turn!" She jumped in her seat, excited. "Would you rather be bald, but beautiful, or have all your glorious blonde hair, but be horribly ugly?"

"My hair is my crowning glory, Granger, but definitely the bald and beautiful. I could always wear a wig," he said. "Waiter? Bring us more wine!" he yelled.

"Seriously, Malfoy, don't drink so much. Anyway, are you trying to get me drunk so you can have your way with me, because I can guarantee, that is definitely the only way that will happen today," Hermione stated.

Draco then said to the waiter, "Bring us two bottles," and smiled at Hermione.
Then he said, "My turn. If you were on a deserted island, would you rather have your copy of 'Hogwarts a History' or me to keep you company?"

"You would be a close second, Malfoy," she laughed again.

He put both hands to her neck and pretended to choke her. "I have a good one for you, Malfoy. Would you rather French kiss Harry or Ron?" She giggled so hard when she asked that one that she almost couldn't contain herself.

"No, you can't ask sex questions," he decided.

"You made no previous declarations of the rules, and anyway, kissing isn't sex," she pointed out.

"Well, I am not answering that one," he declared.

"You have to," she plaintively told him, "and after you answer this one, we will agree to no sex questions, all right?" She only said that to appease him.

"If I answer this damn question, and I ever hear that you repeated my answer to absolutely anyone, Granger, I will kill your cat, do you got that? And I am certainly not going to explain my reasons for my answer!" He seemed serious. She shook her head yes, and then grinned. "I guess if I had to choose, it would be Potter." He almost gagged.

She laughed aloud and said, "I always thought you two would make a cute couple."

"I hate you, Granger," he responded, with no trace of a smile.

"No you don't, and that's your problem, not mine. Now, it's your turn," she said as she took another drink of wine. She was feeling a bit tipsy.

"You will pay, Miss Granger," he responded. "Would you rather have sex with Hagrid or perform number two from my 'con' list on me?"

"First, I thought we said no more sex questions," she told him, "and second, if I recall, I was going to do that special little something to you last night and you stopped me."

"Answer the question!" he said rather loudly, while banging on the table. People at surrounding tables turned to look at them. He took another drink and thought that he was getting pissed as well.

Hermione thought for a moment, and then said, "I think one would be physically impossible, and the other would cause severe psychological damage, so I don't know how to answer. Ask another question."

Malfoy looked at her as if she had two heads, and then asked, "Which one would be impossible, and which one would cause the psychological damage?"

"You think on that one, Malfoy, and get back to me. Now, ask another question," Hermione mused.

"Okay, in school, would you have rather have had buck teeth or bushy hair? Oh, that's right, you had both," he laughed. At least HE thought he was funny. He took another drink. She took out her wand and vanished both bottles of wine, and his glass, directly from his hand. He gave her a dirty look, then said, "Fine, here's my real question, would you have rather been in Slytherin or Hufflepuff?"

"Since I'm a Mudblood, I could never have been in Slytherin," she began.

"Pretend blood doesn't matter, and don't call yourself that," he interjected.

"Well, if blood didn't matter, then I guess I would say Slytherin, but there's nothing wrong with being in Hufflepuff," she pointed out.

"Sure, nothing at all," he smirked.

"Same question to you, except your choices are Hufflepuff and Gryffindor," she told him.

"Well, I heard a wise woman once said that there's nothing wrong with being in Hufflepuff, but still, I guess I would pick Gryffindor," he explained.

"Oh, so you could be closer to Harry?" she said and then she made kissing noises.

He made a rude gesture to her and then asked, "And why would you want to be in Slytherin, maybe so you could have snuggled up to Snape on those cold winter nights?"

"No, because my favourite colour is green, you dolt," she said. Then for good measure, she made a kissing noise once more.

"That was a stupid question anyway," he paused.

"You asked me first," she begged to differ.

"Yes, but when I asked, it was a good question," he countered.

"Whose turn is it?" she asked as the waiter came for their plates.

Draco ordered dessert for them, and then said, "My turn. Would you rather spend the night in the forbidden forest all by yourself, or one hour in the Manor's dungeons?"

She winced, and then answered, "I think I would take the night in the forest. What a depressing question. Way to bring down a room, Malfoy. My turn, would you rather be poor and in love, or rich and married." She took a bite of her cobbler, and waited for his answer.

He was completely silent for what felt like an eternity. Did she know? Is that why she was asking that question? Was she trying to get him to reveal something? Before he could answer her, Potter and Weasley started walking toward them.

He was never so happy to see the Boy Wonder and the Weasel in all his life.

"Hey, Hermione, Malfoy, how are you?" Harry asked as he bent down and kissed Hermione's cheek.

"Do you have a kiss for Malfoy?" Hermione joked.

Draco gave her a death glare.

"I hardly think Malfoy would want me to kiss him," Harry said confused.

"Oh, I wouldn't be so sure about that," she said wickedly.

"Your cat is dead, Granger," was all Draco said in response.

"Crookshank's died?" Ron asked, "Gee, about time, he was like 100 years old."

"No, Ron, my cat didn't really die, and you don't have to act so happy about his possible death you know," Hermione said crossly. Ron shrugged his shoulders and bent to kiss Hermione as well.

"We got the invitations to the bachelor party and the wedding," Harry said, "of course, we will be coming to both, and Hermione, Ginny thought you might prefer for her to throw you a shower, instead of a bachelorette party, so she told me to tell you that your shower is tomorrow night at 6:00 pm."

"Great, Harry," Hermione said. She waved goodbye to the boys, and then said, "Rather strange that Ginny would just take it upon herself to throw my party, although I'm glad she did, since I forgot to ask her."

"I asked her, but I swear, I didn't tell her to change it to a shower. If you still want your naked men and unprotected sex, then I will tell her to change it back to a bachelorette party," Draco said with a smile.

"No, that's fine, I am a prude. We both know it." Hermione laughed.

Since she totally forgot they were playing a game before, and he didn't really want to answer that last question anyway, he decided to change the subject. "What do you want to do with the rest of the day? I have to get my dress robes, but I thought you might want to go dress shopping, for your wedding dress," he said somberly.

"I don't need to buy a dress," she said flatly.

'Oh no', he thought. Did the other shoe just drop and he not hear it? "Why don't you need a dress? Are you going naked?" He tried to act as if he was amused, but inside he was afraid of what she might say.

"No, it's just I thought I would wear my mother's wedding dress. It's in the attic. It needs to be cleaned and altered, but I'm sure I can do that myself, with magic. That's all I meant," she said. She saw that she needed to reassure him.

Tuesday afternoon:

After their lunch, Draco bid Hermione goodbye and went to get his dress robes. She went home and pulled down the stairs that would lead her to the attic. She walked up the stairs slowly and made her way around the endless piles of books. At the end of the attic, she found all the boxes that contained the special mementos that she had kept, to remind her of her parents. She opened the first box. It contained her father's belongings. That was the box from which she retrieved the watch that she gave Draco four months ago. She sat down on the cold hard floor and rummaged through the box. There was some cufflinks, a couple of embroidered handkerchiefs, and other such things. There was a picture, in a simple wooden frame, of her father and her. A Muggle picture. It did not move, but it moved Hermione. She looked at it and all types of emotions entered her heart and mind.

The picture, taken on her eighth birthday at her grandparent's house, showed Hermione sitting on her father's lap and they were both smiling up at the camera. Her mother took the picture. Hermione put the picture aside. She also took one of her dad's handkerchiefs, a light blue one, and decided it could be her "something blue" for when she walked down the aisle. She put that box aside and pulled another box to her.

In the next box were things from her childhood. Her first doll, her baby shoes, even her baby teeth. She saw a silver rattle, her initials engraved on the smooth surface. She took it out and shook it. She placed it back in the box and took out her first book. Her mother said she used to read it to Hermione when she was still in the womb. "Thanks, for my love of books, Mum," she said to herself. She pushed that box aside as well. The next box was the one for which she was searching.

She opened the box, and in a dress bag, was her mother's wedding gown. She stood and unzipped the bag. She slowly removed the dress. It was so beautiful. When she was little, her mother would let her try it on and would say, "Some day, Hermione, you will wear this at your wedding." Hermione smiled when she thought of her charmed childhood. She was loved, pampered, but not spoiled. She wondered what Draco's childhood was like. He was loved, pampered, and undoubtedly spoiled. She smiled again.

She put the dress up against her frame and twirled around. She gently put the dress on the top of the first box and looked in the last box to see what else was in there. In a small, blue velvet box was a pair of diamond stud earrings that her mother wore on her wedding day. Hermione put the earrings to the side and reached down in the box once more. What was that on the bottom? It was her parent's wedding album.

She sat down and started slowly turning the pages. The first picture showed her mother getting ready for the ceremony, with Hermione's grandmother buttoning her dress. Hermione was suddenly struck with a singe of jealousy at her own mother. She had her mother there on her special day, and Hermione had no one. The next picture showed her mother standing between Hermione's grandparents. Her mother looked so beautiful. She turned another page, and saw her mother and father, embraced in a kiss. She closed the book, unable to continue looking at the pictures within, and started to cry. She put the album back in the box and fell back on the cold floor again, and cried, and cried, and cried. She sat back up, took the album out again, and continued to peruse the pages, while the tears freely flowed.

Tuesday, early evening:

When Draco got home it was after 5 pm. He saw that the attic steps were down. Surely, Hermione was not still up there. He walked up the steps and he saw boxes strewn all around, and items that he knew usually were safely contained in these boxes, also thrown around. He saw what must be her mother's wedding dress, in a heap on the floor. He picked it up and dusted it off.

Next, he saw a wedding album, opened to a page that showed Hermione's mum and dad, leaning out of a car, and waving at the camera. They must have been heading toward their honeymoon. He shut the album, and put it in one of the boxes. Where was Hermione?

He walked downstairs, with the wedding dress in his hand, and entered the kitchen. Her cat was in his bed by the stove, and Draco said, "Where's Hermione?" When the damn cat didn't answer, he looked around the rest of the apartment. Finally, on his pillow, he saw an envelope. On the outside of the envelope was her neat script, with the words "to my future husband." Well, it couldn't be a goodbye letter, he thought, or she wouldn't have addressed it as such. He put her mother's wedding dress on the chair in the corner of the bedroom, and then he walked back to the bed.

He opened the letter, and started to read.

Draco,

Don't worry. I haven't left you for good or anything. I promised you I wouldn't leave you at the altar, and now I promise that I won't leave you before, either. I just need to be alone for a little while. Just for a day. Looking at my parent's wedding album made me feel so sad and blue.

It also made me realize how lucky I am to have you. I just wish that they were here to see me get married. Do you realize that neither of us will have any family at our own wedding. We are each other's family from now on.

I will return tomorrow evening, before your bachelor party and my wedding shower. I do love you. Just give me this time I need. If you really need to get a hold of me, I told Harry where I would be. Remember, I love you.

Your future wife,

Hermione

Draco read the letter once more, then put it back in the envelope, and for some reason put it back on his pillow. He walked back to the attic, picked up her parent's wedding album, brought it downstairs, and put in on the chair with the wedding dress.

Tuesday Night:

The train was finally coming to a stop. Hermione's destination was at hand. She was tired and cold, but glad that she was finally there. She hoped that Draco was not worried about her. Leaving home was just something she needed to do. She felt the train lurch forward, and then come to a complete stop. Hermione stood up, exited her compartment, and grabbed her bag. She stepped off the train and looked out at the dark night. She could smell the sea air. It was cold, but inviting. No one was around. Only a few other people exited the train. She went into the station, and asked the stationmaster if he knew of a cab or a driver whom she could hire to take her to the seashore. He asked her where she was going this time of night and she said, "Home." He smiled and told her he would call her a cab.

She walked back outside and took a deep breath. She could easily apparate to her destination, but she wanted to take the train and the cab. That was how they always traveled there when she was a child. She wanted to drive down the winding, dark, dirt road that would lead her to the little stone cottage that was once her summer home.

(End of Day 4)