DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. I also don't own Full House or any of its characters. Heck, I don't own anything except for the clothes I'm wearing, so I'm begging you, please don't sue me.
A/N: I just realized that my fanfic just became AU. Well, it's not that big of a deal, actually, because after book seven, every fanfic would be AU. Before the chapter, a few shout-outs first:
Chewy518 – thank you for letting my fanfic capture your attention! Hugs to you!
curlyqntx – muchas gracias!
xxicedfirexx – Sheila and Ned would have their use so don't hate them too much. But yeah, they are so annoying, aren't they? Kisses to you!
greenday409 – what can I say, I love cliffies:)
monkicraziemprez – persuasive, huh? Heehee
OrgnlAmagic – Draco didn't tell Pansy because he isn't the type of guy that would confess undying love in front of a crowd, especially if it was true. My story is something between loosely-based and dead on. Loosely based because the real leading man was an actor, and Draco is not. So I have to invent a lot of stuff. But as for plot, it's dead on, so yeah… that's that. Thanks for the great reviews!
Koel – if you strangle me, I surely wouldn't be able to update:) This chapter would probably satisfy you, for now… –wink-
And now, on with the show!
Chapter 7: The Wedding
"Hermione?"
Ned's jaw dropped. "How-- how'd you---?"
Hermione smiled weakly. "I have my sources."
Ned noticed that her eyes were red and slightly puffy. It looked like she just cried.
"Hermione, what happened?"
Sheila had heard Hermione's name and ran to the door.
"Oh my gosh! Hermione! What are you doing here?" Her eyes spotted the several bags that were at Hermione's feet. Crookshanks was standing beside her, his bottlebrush tail held high up. "What's with all the luggage?"
Hermione sighed. "Can I come in? It's freezing out here,"
Ned hesitated. "Ermm, I don't think---"
"Oh come on, of course you can!" interjected Sheila, pulling Hermione inside. "Come in, come in! Ned, carry Hermione's bags inside please,"
Ned shook his head and obeyed his wife. Crookshanks followed his master inside.
"Have a seat," offered Sheila, motioning to the small couch in the living room. Hermione sat gratefully, her eyes roaming around the apartment. It was very modest, with only basic furniture. A medium-sized couch and a wooden coffee table consisted the living room. Just a little way back were two doors. To the left was the small kitchen and dining table. Hermione, though she knew Ned and Sheila took advantage of her, felt sorry for the couple.
"I'm really sorry to barge in here like this," she said slowly. She saw the food on the dining table. "It looks like you were in the middle of dinner,"
Sheila laughed off Hermione's apology. "It's okay, no problem! How about you, have you eaten? You look beat,"
Hermione gave a wry smile. "You could say that,"
"Wait here, I'll get you something," said Sheila, and went to get Hermione a plate.
Ned sat beside her.
"What's wrong? We thought you were angry with us?"
Hermione grinned at him. "Yeah well, I still am. But you're the only family I have left..."
Ned suddenly felt guilty again. "Hey, we told you we're sorry, right,"
"Yeah,"
Sheila came back with her food: mashed potatoes and stew. Hermione took it from her with a smile. "Thanks,"
Sheila smiled back. "So tell us, what's up?" She motioned for Ned to move and squeezed into the couch. "It's pretty late,"
"I'm sorry. It's just that... the wedding is off."
Ned and Sheila were shocked. "What?" they shouted in unison.
Hermione sighed and began eating. "Wedding's off. And I need a place to stay," she expounded in between a mouthful of stew.
"B-but Hermione, he's our only chance!" said Ned. Sheila elbowed him in he ribs. "Ow! I mean, he's your only chance!"
"For what?"
"For a better life," said Sheila. "Did you quarrel?"
Hermione snorted. "You have no idea,"
Ned dismissed it with a wave of his hand. "That's normal for a couple! You shouldn't make hasty decisions just because you had a little fight,"
"Actually, we had a big fight---"
"It doesn't matter!" argued Sheila, "Come on, Hermione, are you just going to throw away a great relationship just because your tempers got the better of you?"
Hermione wanted to laugh at Sheila. Great relationship? Being with Draco seemed like waging a daily war, complete with nuclear weapons.
"I think you should think twice about it," said Ned. "I mean, what about the preparations for the wedding? What about his family? I'm sure they're going to be upset when they hear about this."
Hermione swallowed. She remembered Maud's warnings and from the looks of her, she was the type that kept her words. She fought down the creeping dread.
"I don't care about what his family says," she retorted, eating another spoonful of mashed potato. "We're over."
"And what did, what was his name again? Oh right, Draco. What did Draco say about this?"
Hermione handed Crookshanks a piece of carrot. "Nothing."
"Nothing?"
"Yep. He wants it, too,"
Ned's brow furrowed. "He wants it, too? I don't believe you. I mean, have you talked to him after you fought?"
"No," Hermione shook her head. "After the fight, I packed all my things and left."
Sheila's jaw dropped. "Hermione!"
"What? There was no point in staying---"
"That's where you're wrong," said Ned. "I bet he's already sorry for what happened. I bet he's already worried to death about you. I bet he's already driving around in his Porsche looking for you,"
Hermione scoffed. "Yeah, I bet."
"Come on, Hermione, give me your phone." Ned reached out his hand to Hermione.
"What? Why?"
"So I could call him and tell him you're here and he could come and pick you up!"
Hermione stood up quickly, almost spilling her food. "No! You're not going to do anything of the sort!"
Sheila and Ned stood up. "Don't be stubborn, Hermione!" remarked Sheila. "Just let Ned handle it,"
"No!" Hermione took a step back.
Ned stepped forward. "Hermione, be reasonable---"
"No! Get away! You're not calling him, all right?"
"But Hermione---"
Crookshanks jumped in front of Hermione and hissed at Ned and Sheila dangerously. They stopped and looked surprised at Crookshanks.
"Step back," warned Hermione.
"Okay, calm down," said Ned, retreating. "Calm down, Crookshanks,"
The couple sat back down. Hermione visibly relaxed.
"I'm sorry, Ned, Sheila. It's just that I don't want to see him again, okay? Please don't try and make things better because you can't. I think this is what's best for both of us. And I'm okay with it, I'm happy, see?" Hermione beamed at them.
But Sheila wasn't going to give up. "But Hermione, this is going on way too fast,"
Tell me about it, thought Hermione.
"At least think about it,"
"And besides, you can't stay here," Ned added. Hermione fixed him a look. "I mean, you can't stay here forever! I'm sure Draco would come looking for you and you'd see him eventually." Sheila nodded in assent.
Hermione finished her stew and gave the rest of her mashed potatoes to Crookshanks. "I'm not planning to stay here forever. I'll look for another place---" Ned smiled, "---as soon as you pay me back."
Ned grimaced. "But Hermione---"
"But what? It's your fault I don't have money,"
Sheila gave her a sheepish grin. "But we also don't have money..."
"Then, we'll wallow in self pity together!" Hermione smiled widely at them again. "I love your stew, by the way!"
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
So Hermione settled at Ned and Sheila's apartment. In the morning, Ned left to look for work. The two girls did the household chores together and shared stories when they were finished. Sheila liked to take naps in the afternoon, so while she was asleep, Hermione scribbled furiously on her notebook; for in her haste, she had left her laptop in the house. And there was no way she was going back to where Draco was.
For her part, Hermione kept giving works to nearby publishing companies. She had also begun to search the papers for writing contests to join. The prize money would definitely help the couple, since they had another mouth to feed.
Every night, they would hang out on balcony (the apartment was on the 5th floor) and drink beer until they were senseless. Except for Sheila, of course, since she was pregnant. Sheila would merely join in their conversations, drink pineapple juice and after Hermione and Ned were drunk, would be the one to drag them inside and cover them with blankets.
It was the seventh night since Hermione arrived and the three were once again out in the balcony, laughing and singing while drinking their favorite beverages. Hermione was particularly rowdy that night, because she had won third place in a short story writing contest that morning and got twenty pounds for it. After a sumptuous dinner, Hermione bought a crate of beer and began drinking. The hype of winning apparently stuck to her.
"Sssoooo haaaapppyyyyyy..." slurred Hermione. She looked very drunk; eyelids drooping and cheeks red. She took a swig from what seemed to be her eight bottle of beer. "Caaaan't beleev I wooon!"
Ned was more sober than Hermione and watched her closely, just in case she decided to jump up in glee and fall five stories down. He grinned at her.
"Yeah, nice work, Hermione!"
Hermione returned his grin. "Shtooopeed peeephul who theeenk I'm noo goood! I shooowed them, dint I?"
"You sure did," agreed Sheila. "Oh wait, your bottle's empty! Here, have another one!"
Hermione happily took the new bottle of beer from her friend, spilling half of it before she had taken a sip. Her hands were terribly shaking. Soon enough, she had lost her grip on the bottle and it smashed into pieces as it hit the floor.
"Oopsshh!" said Hermione, giggling uncontrollably. She attempted to pick up the pieces but Ned stopped her.
"Here let me handle it. You might hurt yourself," he said, reaching out. Hermione giggled again.
"Niiiiiiiiice, Neeeeeeed." She hiccupped. "Draaco would've maade me pick it up, goddamned bastard!"
Sheila glanced knowingly at Ned before speaking to Hermione. "Would he? How awful!"
Hermione banged her hand on the table. "Damn right! Aaaawffuuuuullll leeettle ferrrrrrrettt!"
Sheila laughed. "You seem like you really hate him,"
"Ha! You have no idea!" replied the drunken Hermione. Apparently, her tongue had gone loose with all the alcohol. "Draaaaco is a noooo gooood son of a---"
"Hey! You're beer's spilling!" interjected Ned.
"Huh?"
Hermione looked down and sure enough, what was left of her beer had slopped down on her pants and half of her body was soaked in the liquid.
She hiccupped. "Shit."
Ned was just about to comment when without warning, Hermione's head hit the wooden table with a loud thump. She had fallen asleep.
Sheila went directly to Hermione's side. After checking that her friend was still breathing and her forehead was not bleeding, Sheila quickly grabbed Hermione's arms and attempted to hoist her up.
"Ned! Help!"
Ned quickly came to his wife's side and helped her pull Hermione inside the house, carefully avoiding the big mess she had just made. Once they had laid Hermione on the floor, Sheila began digging into the pockets of Hermione's wet pants. Ned watched her closely.
"Faster! She might wake up!" he whispered.
Sheila was having a hard time, however, because the denim clung to Hermione's body. After a few minutes of searching, her face scrunched up, Sheila extracted Hermione's cell phone from her left front pocket.
"Here it is!" she said, holding the gadget up. Ned grabbed it from his wife's hand.
"I hope it still works," he muttered, starting to press some buttons.
Sheila glanced cautiously at Hermione, who was slightly snoring. "I thought she was never going to stop drinking," she commented. "I never knew she could drink that much." Her face scrunched up in disgust as she remembered the several bottles Hermione had emptied.
Ned who hadn't been listening to Sheila and was busy looking for something in Hermione's phonebook suddenly gave a whoop of joy. "I found it!"
"Then go on, call him,"
Ned didn't need to be told. A few seconds later, the line crackled and the person picked up.
"Who's this?"
"Hello, Draco?"
"Who are you?" Draco sounded surprised. "Why do you have Granger's cell phone?"
Sheila watched expectantly as Ned replied.
"Draco, this is Ned. Ned Bartleby. I'm Hermione's friend."
"So?"
"I just wanted to tell you she's here. With me and my wife, Sheila. She's doing okay; we're taking good care of her." Ned looked at the drunken Hermione, wet and sleeping on the floor and at his wife who was giving him a thumbs-up sign. "She's absolutely fine."
"Is that what you wanted to tell me?"
"Yes,"
"Don't call me again."
Before Ned could react, the line was dead. Ned was shocked.
"Hey, what happened?" asked Sheila, crawling nearer.
"I can't believe it! He told me not to call him again!"
Sheila gasped. "What?"
"He didn't even ask about Hermione, like he didn't care what happened to her!"
"He sounds mean..."
Ned nodded. "I know,"
"But he's rich,"
"Yeah."
"Go call him again."
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
For the second time that night, Draco's cell phone rang. He was sitting on his bed and poring over some documents when the mobile phone lighted up and began to ring. He looked at it, trying to decide whether to answer it or not. In the end, he picked up.
"What?" he asked gruffly, not even bothering with niceties.
"Hello, Draco?"
Draco growled. "You again! I just told you not to call me,"
The line crackled. "Well, I thought you haven't heard me right. It's Hermione---"
"Listen, I'm not stupid. I heard what you said and I don't give a bloody damn. So leave me the hell alone!" He was about to end the call, but Ned continued talking.
"But she's your fiancée!"
"Hasn't she told you the wedding's off?"
"But we thought it was just a misunderstanding---"
Draco exhaled heavily. "It was a misunderstanding, that's why we're not going on with it!"
Ned gave a feeble laugh. "You are clearly just confused about---"
Draco didn't wait for him to finish. He ended the call and threw the cell phone down on the bed, pissed.
Misunderstanding was the understatement of the century. Draco knew deep down that things weren't going to be a walk in the park with Hermione, so he was prepared to actually put up with the annoying witch. But the fights proved to be things way beyond his control. He thought it was best that Hermione had left. It had been a week and he was vaguely wondering where she had gone. But he didn't exactly worry. Worrying about Hermione was as pointless as... as... worrying about Hermione. Draco was simply not used to it.
And he absolutely did not care about what happened to her or where she ended up. That was why it was a shock that her friend bothered to call him about her. He thought that probably Hermione had forced his friend to call him and just see if he cared. He knew she couldn't resist him. Sorry for her, he didn't bother.
He went back to the papers he was reading. He finally had the time and the will to concentrate on the business when Hermione left. Not having her around brought peace and order into his life. And he intended on keeping it that way.
Draco had just finished digesting the first sentence of the third paragraph when another ring disturbed his train of thought. He glanced at the mobile phone which was faced down on the bed and groaned as he saw it lighting up.
"For Merlin's sake!" he muttered, irked. He considered blowing the bloody thing up but then again, he wouldn't have time to get another one, since he was particularly swamped with papers to sign, documents to read and contracts to approve. Gathering what was left of his patience (which had always been pretty thin), he picked up the gadget and stopping himself from yelling at the caller, merely grunted into it.
"Draco?"
Draco recognized the authoritative voice at once. "Mr. Rochester?"
"Yes, good evening Draco, I hope I haven't disturbed you,"
Draco looked at the overwhelming pile of papers on the floor beside his bed. "No, not at all."
"Good." The line crackled. "Do you know what date is it tomorrow?"
Draco groaned. How could he? In fact, if he had the choice, he would've spent half of his money in Gringotts just to forget what would happen the next day.
"Is there a problem?" asked Mr. Rochester, though he sounded like he knew what was going on.
"Erm. No. There is no problem."
"What is it, Draco?"
"What is what, Mr. Rochester?"
Mr. Rochester gave a deep rumbling laugh. "I have known you since you were two. Don't think I can't tell that you're lying."
Draco tried to laugh, too but he was met with silence from the other line. He sighed.
"You know me too well, Mr. Rochester,"
"Tell me, Draco, how exactly did this come about?" Draco was right. Mr. Rochester did know that there was no wedding to take place the next day.
"You don't have to know," answered Draco a bit impolitely. Remembering his fight with Hermione never failed to make him feel rather furious. "Wedding's off, that's that,"
There was a strange buzzing sound before he heard Mr. Rochester. "That fast?"
"Father doesn't think so,"
"Well I thought you didn't care about what your father thought,"
"I still don't," snapped Draco. "And he doesn't have anything to do with this."
Mr. Rochester laughed again. "Draco, everything about you involves your father."
Draco didn't reply.
"Don't make Miss Granger a tool for retaliation against Lucius,"
"And don't try taking me on a guilt trip because it's all over---"
"Is it?"
"Yes."
"And how does Miss Granger feel about this?"
Draco wanted to tell him that he doesn't give a damn about what she felt but he bit his lip. "Not happy, I suppose," he lied. Honestly, he could just imagine Hermione holding a party right after she up and left the house.
"I will be straight with you, Draco. What you're doing, these rash decisions, scandalous actions, it's taking a toll on the company. They reflect you Draco, as a person and as a leader. An indecisive leader at that. This would not look good for us."
This made Draco think. It would be hypocritical of him to say that he had thought of the company and how his actions would affect it. He was not used to thinking about anything that went beyond himself. He was used to having people taking care of the mess he made, running around him, keeping things in order and under control. All he had to do was to be there. The rest was their job.
Now it was different. He actually had to depend on himself and not on paid assistants and servants. There would be no one to take the blame for his mistakes. He would have to face the consequences of each error alone.
Draco swallowed. Now that Rochester had brought it up, he had realized that letting Hermione leave after letting the world know of their "marriage" was a wrong move. For one thing, it would destroy his reputation. If he couldn't straighten out his personal life, how can investors and business partners trust him? Second, though he was quite sure that his grandmother would actually rejoice at the news, his mother would be devastated. During recent Floo visits, she had been hinting that Hermione would be good for him. Narcissa would surely be saddened by their break-up. And thirdly, there was his father. Rochester was right. Everything he did involved his father. If Lucius would find out that the wedding was off, he would not miss the opportunity to gloat at Draco, probably to tell him that his cowardice sometimes brought out the desired results.
The smug look on his father's face made Draco grip the cellular phone tighter.
"Draco, are you still there?" asked Mr. Rochester, noticing the uncharacteristically long silence.
"Yes I am."
"Did you understand what I said?"
"Yes."
"What do you want to do about it then?" Mr. Rochester asked further. "But let me be clear, Draco, I will not be feeding you the answers. I want you to make the decision on your own. I don't want to force you into anything,"
Draco smirked. If there was one large difference between Rochester and his father, that would be it. Lucius did everything by force.
"If you are decided to call off the wedding, I could make the proper announcements by tomorrow morning. I could cancel everything. The guests would be informed. None of them would be too happy, I reckon they would've have bought their gifts by now. To be honest, I would have preferred it if you had told me about this earlier. But if it's what you want---"
Draco bit his lip again. Yes, it was very stupid of him to not tell anyone that Hermione had left and there was to be no wedding. He had been too busy and too angry to actually go up and tell everybody to stop the preparations because they were all useless. For an entire week he kept quiet while his mother pestered him with a million questions, often asking where Hermione had gone for she never saw her. Draco lied and told his mother that Hermione was in Zimbabwe, taking her last trip as a single woman. It sounded fishy but Narcissa was never the nosy one. Miraculously, they had arranged everything there was to be arranged, without help from the supposed bride and groom. Borrowing Narcissa's words, "Everything was set. As perfect as they could ever imagine." Frankly, Draco found it funny that when the day arrived, neither he nor Hermione would show up. How perfect.
"Draco?" said Mr. Rochester again. "Talk to me, boy,"
"I'm here," repeated Draco. "Just thinking,"
"Good, then. I want you to think about it."
It wasn't like it was too hard to reach a decision. The answer was obvious. Draco just didn't want to admit it yet.
He pondered about it for another few minutes. He argued with himself, but then it came to him that all the pondering was fruitless because all the facts were pointing to one solution. Draco vaguely wondered if he would have a shred of pride left after this as he finally told Rochester what he wanted and abruptly ended the call to make another one.
One ring was all it took.
"Hello? Draco?"
"Cut the crap, Nel---"
"Ned---"
"Whatever. Listen closely. I want you to do something for me,"
"What?"
"Bring back Granger."
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
It was early the next day. Shafts of sunlight streamed through the gaps of the curtained windows. Birds were twittering happily in the treetops. The air smelled of flowers and talcum powder.
Hermione still wanted to sleep, though her back ached from sleeping on the hard floor. But unfortunately, she wouldn't be getting anything she wanted that day.
"Hermione wake up! Wake up!"
Sheila's shrilly voice was tainted with urgency as she violently shook Hermione awake.
"W-wha---?" muttered Hermione with eyes still half-closed.
"I said wake up! We have to go!"
"Can't. Sleepy. Later." In Hermione's opinion, it was too early for complete sentences.
Sheila was not to be deterred, though. She kept on bugging her friend.
"Hermione, please, wake up! We really need to go, now!"
Hermione heard padded footsteps and a moment later, another two hands held her shoulders and helped Sheila shake her.
It was Ned. "Sheila's not joking Hermione! It's about Draco!"
Hermione groaned. "I don't want to hear anything about him!"
"Well, if you also don't want to see him, then you better get up now,"
"Huh? What are you talking about?" Hermione tried to focus her blurred vision on Ned's face creased with worry.
Sheila looked just as alarmed. "Hermione, Draco knows that you're here. And he's coming to get you,"
That made Hermione sit up with a jolt. "What?"
"He called your phone. He said he was coming,"
Hermione was confused. "B-but how'd he know I was here? I haven't told anybody!"
"Now's not the time to answer your questions, Hermione," said Ned, pulling Hermione to her feet. "We have to go. We've already packed your things. Pick up Crookshanks and follow us,"
"What? Why? Where are we going?" asked Hermione as Ned let her go and picked up her luggage. Sheila, meanwhile, picked Crookshanks up and deposited him in Hermione's arms. "Wait, can't I take a bath first?" She looked down at her soiled pants which still smelled strongly of beer. Her hair must've looked worse because Ned and Sheila seemed to reconsider as they stared at it.
But Ned finally waved a hand in dismissal. "No time! You can take a bath when we get there---"
"Get where?"
Sheila pushed her towards the door. "Stop asking and just trust us!"
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
Twenty minutes later, they got off the cab and the three of them started sprinting towards a grand building, which had uniformed guards guarding the entrance. Hermione screeched to a halt.
"Wait a minute," she said, looking up at the name of the place. It said Hilton Hotel in letters made of metal and painted in gold. "This is a hotel, why are we going in?"
Sheila and Ned exchanged glances before Sheila pulled Hermione to a run again. "I told you stop asking questions---"
"But I don't have money!"
"Don't worry, we'll handle it,"
Something told Hermione that something was terribly wrong. Every time Sheila told her they could handle it, there was a little pinch in her stomach that made her extremely queasy.
Hermione had no choice but to let Sheila drag her inside by the arm. She found it very dubious that the guards didn't even try to stop them from entering the posh hotel, seeing that Hermione looked like a drunk who had slept on the sidewalk. They merely looked at her, with a slightly disgusted look on their faces but did not make any attempt to block their way.
The three of them sprinted down the marvelous hall. There was a huge gold fountain at the very center. Scattered across the room were comfy-looking beige couches, armchairs and coffee tables with lush flower arrangements on top. The walls were full of huge paintings of scenic landscapes. In every corner were elegant statues and sculptures of half-naked women and angels. Hermione has never seen that much of the color gold in her entire life.
There were only a few people lounging around, but all of them looked like snobby socialites. The disgusted look they wore on their faces was identical to the one the guards had given Hermione. She stopped from looking around and bowed her head in embarrassment. They continued running until they reached the elevator. Panting slightly, Ned punched the up button and waited impatiently for the metal doors to open.
Even Sheila was stomping her feet in eagerness.
"Faster, faster," muttered Ned.
"We're going to be late," Sheila added, giving Ned an admonitory slap in the arm.
Ned frowned. "Hey! It's not my fault! I told you to wake her up earlier!"
Hermione held a hand up in front of them. "Care to tell me what you're rambling on about?"
Sheila and Ned stared at her blankly.
"What?"
At that exact moment, the elevator opened and a bellboy greeted them promptly.
"Good day, sir, ladies,"
"Yeah, yeah," said Ned, quickly getting inside, the two girls behind him. An old lady wearing a classic white mink fur coat followed them inside, giving Hermione a particularly condescending glare. Hermione managed to give her a wry smile.
Because of the old lady's presence, Hermione decided not to press Ned and Sheila for answers and remained quiet for their entire elevator ride. As they reached the seventh floor, she heard the familiar "ting" and the doors opened. Ned and Sheila rushed out of the elevator, still pulling at Hermione. Her arm was becoming pretty sore.
Ned had his head tilted up, looking at the numbers on the room doors, scanning for a particular one.
"761, 762, here it is! 763!" he exclaimed, as they reached a door at the very end of the hall. Without even knocking, Ned turned the knob and pushed it open.
Hermione tried to stop him. "Wait! You can't do that!"
"Why?"
"We haven't checked in yet, someone must've---"
"Oh just stop it, Hermione!" Ned suddenly pushed her inside the room. Hermione was surprised and almost toppled over as she tripped on the red carpet.
"Hey!"
"Stay there, Hermione," said Sheila, already closing the door. Hermione had enough sense to stop her from doing so and blocked her hand on the doorway.
"Why are you leaving me here?"
Ned's face peeked in from outside. "Draco won't find you here,"
"Are you sure? Because this seems like a place he would probably go to---"
"Hermione, you don't have money!" answered Sheila impatiently, "How can you check into a hotel?"
"Oh right,"
"We're going, so just stay put," said Ned.
"You're leaving me?"
Sheila gave her an apologetic smile. "Well, not exactly,"
"You can't leave me here, I don't have a penny on me!"
"Well that's why we're leaving," Ned replied. "We're going to, uh, get money,"
"Where?"
"In a bank?"
"You don't have an account," Hermione pointed out.
Sheila dismissed her with a wave. "Oh Hermione, just leave it to us and when the day's over, you're going to have all the money we, er, I mean you need,"
Hermione bit her lip. "Okay. But don't take too long,"
"Got it,"
"And get me some food. Spaghetti. And garlic bread,"
"All right, spaghetti on the way!"
With that Hermione removed her hand and let Sheila close the door with a faint click.
Hermione leaned on the door tiredly. Closing her eyes and breathing heavily, she tried to calm herself down and tell herself that she was going to be okay. Draco wasn't going to catch her.
At that moment, she heard scratching noises. Hermione opened her eyes and strained to hear where it was coming from. Then it hit her.
"Crookshanks!"
She immediately opened the door and sure enough, her cat was waiting there, looking as tired as she was.
She scooped up Crookshanks in her arms and gave him a particularly wet kiss. "Oh Crookshanks! I am so sorry! I almost forgot about you,"
Crookshanks meowed in a way that told her she was forgiven.
Turning around, Hermione decided to inspect her new surroundings. She put down Crookshanks and allowed him to roam around the room.
It was one of those special guest suites with a living room. It was luxuriously decorated with thick curtains of red which were drawn open, giving a very good view of the busy city. The curtains matched the carpet perfectly. There was a four-person sofa at the very center, with two armchairs with green velvet covers. The coffee table was made of black glass and held an expensive-looking silver statuette of a dolphin. In one corner was a tall oak bookshelf filled with hardbound books and magazines. A lamp was standing near the door, right beside a side table with a flower vase filled with lilies on top. Hermione paced around, carefully touching the things she found most amusing. Crookshanks was currently entertaining himself with the doormat, clawing and scratching at it. To the right was the an elegant dinette, with a chandelier right above the table surrounded by six high back chairs. To the right were two doors, probably the ones leading to the bedroom and bathroom. Hermione suddenly remembered that she had not taken a bath yet. Relieved that she could finally fix herself up, she pushed open the nearest door.
She almost had a heart attack as six maids in uniform greeted her with a bow.
"W-what the---"
"Good morning, Miss Granger. We are here to assist you," said the one in the center, whose blonde hair was tied in a neat bun.
But Hermione had had enough of intruders.
Desperate times call for desperate measures, she thought, as she slowly pulled out her wand from her pocket.
"Ladies, I'm very sorry," she said, as she prepared to attack, "but I really don't have time for you right now."
She pointed her wand at the one who spoke.
Nothing could have prepared her for what happened next.
Much to her astonishment and panic, all six ladies had also drawn wands and were aiming them right at her.
"I'm sorry, too, Miss Granger," the blonde one spoke again, "but I suppose you'll just have to make time for us."
Shit.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
The ballroom was ready. The entire room was lighted up by five crystal chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling. There were no windows and the white walls were covered by white silk curtains. The floor was of white marble, streaked with gray and it sparkled as it reflected the light from the chandeliers. Almost a hundred round tables also covered with white silk filled the room; each table seating four people. At the center of each table was an ornate arrangement of white and red roses. The silverware were already laid out and they gleamed in the light. To the left and to the right were two long buffet tables filled with sumptuous-looking food: cold cuts, deserts, fish, gravy, potatoes, bowls of punch and lots more. A three feet wide red carpet divided the room into two; it started from the double doors to the small white altar at the other end of the room, where an elderly priest was patiently waiting.
As of that moment, the room was almost full. Almost everyone invited was already milling around, with champagne glasses in their hands, talking and laughing with one another, as though they were all old friends. Of course, Draco knew they were not. Half of them were Wizards, half of them were Muggles. But just for now, one won't be able to tell the difference.
Draco was currently in one corner of the room, trying to avoid talking to anyone at the moment. He was very comfortable and he kept on fidgeting with the buttons of his black coat. Anyone could tell that he was nervous; anyone except himself, of course, since he would not admit it. He thought that his vest was too tight and it constricted his breathing, that his tie simply did not match the texture of his coat and pants, that his shoes were too shiny, and that his hair was not properly gelled. A strand of it kept falling in front of his left eye and he had to push it away after every two seconds. He also could not stop his heart from beating so fast.
Draco watched as his guests laughed and smiled and greeted his parents congratulations. His mother, Narcissa, looked marvelous in an off-white ensemble. His father was also very handsome, though his all-black outfit made it look like he was going to a funeral rather than his own son's wedding. Well, at least they were both smiling (though it was not hard to notice that his father's smile was a bit forced). His grandmother was currently very busy yelling at the waiters for every little mistake. In short, she was also enjoying herself.
He wished he could also enjoy himself. But Draco felt like he was waiting for his turn on the guillotine. For one, he had not yet seen Hermione. He's not even sure if those annoying friends of hers were able to follow his commands and bring her here. He knew that if Hermione knew what was going on, she wasn't going to go without a fight. If her friends weren't so lucky, they would've had suffered so many hexes by now that they wouldn't look the same. He wished there was a way to find out if she was really coming. She was already twenty minutes late and his mother was beginning to show little signs of worry. When she looked at Draco, he tried hard to give her an encouraging smile, secretly cursing Hermione for making them all wait.
Draco was so caught up in his thoughts that he did not notice that someone had come up beside him.
"Hello Draco,"
It was Pansy, wearing a delicate pink strapless dress and smiling at Draco as though he was not going to be married any minute now.
Draco had hoped Pansy wouldn't come, because it would be doubly hard for him to get on with the ceremony with her watching. He was agitated enough, thank you very much, and he didn't need another nagging distraction that would make him regret getting married.
But of course, his pride did not let him show any sign of remorse. He beamed at her before giving her a warm hug.
"Pansy! I'm so glad you could come," he told her, his voice slightly wavering. He tried to keep up his smile.
She returned a grin. "I wouldn't miss it for the world. I'm so happy for you!"
Draco managed a "thank you" because he could not sincerely agree with her.
"You look dashing," complimented Pansy, adjusting Draco's tie. "I love your tie,"
"Really? I thought it was too dark---"
"No, it's okay." She smiled again. "It's perfect."
Draco couldn't say anything. He had heard enough of the word "perfect" in the past couple of days that would last him a lifetime.
"So, where's Hermione?"
Draco didn't have to answer that question because all of a sudden, the double doors opened and a man had started to motion for everyone to settle down.
"Please take your seats; flower girls, bridesmaids, groomsmen, all participants, please take your positions," he said loudly. The crowd hurriedly moved to obey, whispering in excitement. Draco seriously thought his air supply had run out. He started to choke.
"Are you okay?" asked Pansy concernedly.
Draco smiled at her. She smiled back.
"Perhaps you're just nervous,"
"No I'm not!"
She laughed. "It's natural to be nervous, Draco. Now go on, take your position." Pansy pushed him gently to where he would stand. And since he had no best man (Draco insisted it was unnecessary), he stood alone. Pansy kissed him good luck before she went away to find her seat.
The priest gave a small nod at the pianist and at this signal, he started to play the wedding march. Draco swallowed. The ceremony had begun.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
Hermione simply did not like her dress. She was left alone in the room after three hours of preparing and she busied herself by scrutinizing her image in the huge mirror. She had calmed down enough for the maids to explain to her the real reason she was in their mercy. Of course, her first reaction was to get out of there and kill Ned and Sheila with her bare hands. But as the maids reasoned to her, she found herself yielding to what seemed like her fate. Hermione was a practical woman. And it's not like she didn't try to get out of the marriage. She did everything she could, in fact, but she still ended up in the situation she had worked so hard to avoid. Probably, Hermione thought, for some twisted reason she could not understand, this had to happen.
She scrunched her face up, as she attempted to be more comfortable in her dress, but failed miserably. She looked at herself from head to foot once again. Her hair was straightened for the occasion, tied up in an elegant twist at the back of her head. On top of her gleaming hairdo was a sparkling tiara. It was small, yet, considering its weight, Hermione believed that it had real diamonds. She had no problem with her make-up. It was light and simple, and it didn't make her look like a clown. Her jewelry was what she loved best. Teardrop diamond earrings with a matching necklace. Hermione had never worn something so beautiful, and expensive.
But her dress. Hermione grimaced. Her dress could've looked loads better.
It was unconventional, to say the very least. Instead of the long flowing white bridal gown she imagined, it was a short dress, coming down just a little bit below her knees. The top was a sleeveless bodice which showed some cleavage, connected to a short skirt which looked like it was tattered artfully. Sashes of these creatively torn strips decorated the entire dress, from the bodice and ended in unequal lengths, some just in the middle of the skirt, some extending to the upper half of her legs. The gown was so pale a yellow that it was close to being off-white. Hermione wondered who chose the dress. Perhaps it was Maud, trying to get back at her for being rude and discourteous.
There was a knock at her door.
"Come in," said Hermione, trying to boost up her cleavage.
A loud clearing of the throat distracted her and she looked up. When she saw who it was, she quickly removed her hands from her bosom, flushing.
"Miss Granger," greeted Lucius, an eyebrow raised.
Hermione gave him a hesitant smile.
"Are you ready?" he asked, "Or should I give you some more time?"
"No, I'm...I'm fine," replied Hermione, still rather red in the face.
"I see. Your father is dead, correct?"
Hermione blinked at Lucius. "Er, yes. Why'd you---"
"Then I will be the one to walk you down the aisle," Lucius interjected. "In the name of tradition."
"Right."
Lucius strode forward. "But before that, I would like you to answer a question. Honestly, if you could, Miss Granger." He fixed her a stare.
Hermione nodded. "Okay." She wished it was not one of those questions that don't deserve an honest reply.
"Do you love my son?"
Alas, it was.
Hermione tried not to fidget with her dress, as she stammered an answer. "Well, erm, Draco is...he is very...I think---"
Lucius smirked. "So you don't love him?"
"Well, that's not...I mean you seriously don't---"
"It doesn't matter, actually, if you say yes or no," interrupted Lucius, getting impatient. "I don't really care if you love him. I just wanted to see if I could scare you into backing out." He smiled evilly at her. Hermione was now thoroughly convinced that he was insane.
"Shall we?" asked Lucius, finally offering his arm to her. It took her a few seconds before she could make herself take it. She thought his arm was rather stiff.
Lucius was looking at Hermione strangely, as she took his arm. She looked him in the eye for two seconds before chickening out and bowing her head.
Lucius smirked again. "You know, Miss Granger, you look very pretty," he said, much to Hermione's astonishment. "In fact, you're too pretty for a Muggleborn."
With that, he opened the door and they walked out.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
If someone told Hermione a year ago that in twelve month's time, Lucius was going to walk her down the aisle to marry his son, Hermione would've laughed so hard, she would've died.
And at that moment, she seriously wished that she already was.
Arm in arm with Lucius, they had already entered the ballroom. Hermione's heart was beating to fast, it seemed like it was buzzing. Her mind was so distracted that she was not able to appreciate the halcyon whiteness of the room. In fact, she didn't even notice Ned waving at her feverishly from the left side of the crowd. All she could think about was keeping her balance and fighting the urge to faint.
Everything seemed to be strangely blurred, like she was walking into a dream. A dream which involved Draco standing beside the altar, with a wedding march playing in the background. It felt like they were walking forever. Beads of sweat started to appear on Hermione's forehead. She desperately wanted to ask for a handkerchief. Her hands, which were holding a bouquet of orchids, shook slightly with every step. In the corner of her eye, Lucius' blonde hair glimmered in the light. She blinked.
Finally, they had reached the altar. Draco, in an elegant dark gray suit which matched his eyes perfectly, walked towards them. Lucius had let go of her arm and shook his son's hand formally. Then, Draco held her by the elbow and escorted her as they both faced the priest. Though Hermione's sight was no longer blurred, she now felt as though her head was too big for her body. She wanted to throw up.
"It is not nice that a man to be alone," the priest began, "he can become fully human and fully alive only when he has someone to share his life with. Therefore, life becomes more meaningful when it is shared." Someone in the audience coughed. "Here, now we are going to start the celebration in which Draco Lucius Malfoy and Hermione Jane Granger are going to be united in the Holy Sacrament of Matrimony,"
At the mention of the word "matrimony", Hermione began to panic. She breathed in deeply, trying to calm her nerves and stop herself from tearing her hair out. Beside her, Draco shifted his weight from one foot to another. Then, he took her arm and placed it in his.
The priest continued. "My dear brothers and sisters, we are gathered here today to witness the sacramental union of Draco and Hermione and to share in their joy and happiness. Let us appreciate and congratulate them for their desire to be united on the Sacrament of Marriage. Let us thank God for bringing them together in love."
What the priest said couldn't have been more ironic.
"But before anything else, I would like to ask this crowd, if there is anyone present here which would not like this marriage to continue. Speak now or forever hold your peace,"
Hermione had waited for that line. She itched to raise her left hand high up in the air, as she always did in Hogwarts, but this time not to recite, but to save her from the hell that was waiting for her.
The crowd was deadly silent. Hermione wondered if Lucius would dare hex her in front of everyone if she had raised her hand. Seconds ticked. No one moved. Draco cleared his throat quietly.
"Very well," the priest said finally. "We shall now continue. Draco and Hermione, you are here today to seal your love with eternal bond before the church. May I ask you to answer truthfully the following questions?" He turned to Hermione. "Hermione, did you come here of your own free will to bind yourself forever in love and service of your husband?"
Bind? Forever? Service? Husband? Hermione swallowed and bit her lip. The truth was, all she wanted to do at that moment was to push Draco away, point an accusatory finger at him and yell He made me do it! She glanced at him cautiously. He was looking straight at the priest.
"Hermione?"
"Yes," she heard herself say through gritted teeth. "Yes, Father." She wanted to puke now more than ever.
The priest then turned to Draco. "Draco, did you come here of your own free will to bind yourself forever in love and service of your wife?"
Draco didn't even flinch. "Yes, Father."
"Will you love and honor each other as husband and wife for the rest of your lives?" The priest looked at them both.
For the first time in seven and a half days, they turned their heads and looked each other in the eye. Hermione couldn't read anything from Draco's reaction, though his eyes had the same glint of determination it held the day he told her to marry him.
"Yes, Father." Draco was the first to say it.
Hermione took a deep breath and imitated him. "Yes, Father," she repeated.
"Are you both ready to raise as good and obedient the children whom God will give to you?"
Hermione fought the urge to snort. But both of them expressed their assent.
"Since it is your intention to enter marriage, please join your right hands together and declare your consent before God and his church."
The two of them moved so that they faced each other. Hermione held her bouquet in her left hand as Draco took her right hand in his. She blushed a little.
"Hermione, do you take Draco here present, for your lawful husband according to the rite of the Church? To promise to love him, protect him, honor him, to cherish him for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health til death do you part?"
"Like I have a choice," she muttered.
"Excuse me?"
Hermione quickly smiled at the priest. "I said yes, Father. Yes I do."
"Draco, do you take Hermione here present, for your lawful wife according to the rite of the Church? To promise to love her, protect her, honor her, to cherish her for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health til death do you part?"
"Yes I do." Draco said in a cool voice.
The priest motioned for the ring bearer, a small boy with reddish hair, to come forward. "Now give these rings to one another and say after me."
The boy held up a red velvet box and opened it. Inside were two platinum rings with one sparkling diamond each. Draco took the thinner one and slipped it into Hermione's index finger while saying, "Hermione, as I place his ring in your hand, may our separate lives become one. This is a sign of my unconditional love, faithfulness and devotion to you in all the years to come."
Of course, Hermione knew it didn't mean anything. Draco's non-reaction was almost passivity. She felt anger bubbling in her chest. Imitating his gesture, she also extracted the ring from the box but this time, put it in his finger more forcefully than necessary. Draco glared at her. Hermione smiled sweetly, and said the same thing Draco had said as she gave him the ring. Draco's eyes narrowed.
When they finished, the priest spoke again. "Now that you have received the Holy Sacrament of Matrimony, I admonish you to remain faithful to one another. Hermione, love your husband and be a good wife; persevere in faith and love and holiness. Draco, love your wife as you love yourself and live with her in the fear of the Lord. By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife."
The crowd cheered and clapped at this.
Smiling, the priest said the line Hermione most dreaded.
"You may now kiss the bride."
Hermione froze. Will Draco really kiss her? She looked at Draco threateningly, daring him if he could do just that. To Hermione's dismay, Draco smirked, stepped closer, raised her veil and clutched both sides of her face.
"Don't you dare!" warned Hermione through gritted teeth.
"Why, darling, don't be shy," mocked Draco, pulling Hermione's face closer to him. She continued to resist, fighting Draco's pull to the point that her face was slightly smushed.
Draco forced a smile. "Hermione don't make this hard... stop it, book worm," he said, the last four words barely above a whisper.
Hermione turned her head slightly to glance at the crowd and found them staring expectantly at them. She saw Maud, with a tear-streaked face, now glaring at her. She looked back at Draco, eyes still narrowed.
"Better make it qui-mmmph!"
He didn't even let her finish and planted his lips firmly on hers. Hermione's eyes closed against her will. She cursed herself for yielding into the feel of Draco's soft lips. A second later, it was over and Draco was looking smug. Hermione wanted to hit him with the bouquet she was holding.
All the people in the room resumed their loud cheering and before the newlyweds knew it, they were being showered with rose petals and pink confetti. Hermione plastered a smile on her face and tried not to flinch when Draco put his arm around her and they walked down the aisle.
"Hermione! Hermione!" Ned called to her as they passed him. He waved at them, arms fully extended that he was already hitting those who were beside him. "Hermione! Congratulations!"
At the sight of her so-called friend, her rage began to resurface. She moved to go to him and give him a hearty slap, but Draco help her tighter.
"Not now, sweetheart," he said, a fake smile on his lips. "We have guests,"
"I don't care, honey," Hermione spat. "Leave me alone!"
But Draco didn't let her go until the crowd dispersed around them and the feast began. As Hermione expected, Draco left her at once and started chatting up Pansy. She glared at them furiously as she headed towards the buffet table.
"Yes, ma'am?" the waiter asked.
"Give me something with lots of alcohol," replied Hermione. She figured that getting drunk and senseless would be the best way to get out of there faster.
"Planning to get drunk?"
Hermione turned and found Blaise grinning at her. He wore a white suit and in Hermione's opinion, looked more of a groom than Draco did. She beamed at him.
"Hello, Blaise,"
"Congratulations, Hermione," said Blaise and before she could react, he pulled her into a hug. "I'm happy for you,"
"Yes, er, thanks, I guess," Hermione gave a nervous laugh as she pulled away.
"You look radiant, by the way,"
Hermione felt her cheeks burning. "Thank you."
The waiter called Hermione and handed her the drink she wanted. Blaise asked for one, too.
"This is good," said Hermione as she took a sip.
Blaise laughed. "Just make sure you don't get yourself too drunk. I don't think Draco would appreciate it on your first night,"
Hermione choked on her drink, coughing loudly. Blaise came to her rescue at once, rubbing her back gently.
"Hey, are you all right?" His brow was furrowed in concern.
Hermione nodded. But inside, her stomach was churning; she had completely forgotten about spending the night with Draco. Even the idea made her shudder.
"Are you sure you're okay?" asked Blaise again, as Hermione stopped coughing. "Here, take my handkerchief,"
Hermione took it gratefully and dabbed the sides of her mouth. "I'm fine, thanks. I hope my dress isn't ruined." She looked down at her gown and to her relief, it remained spotless. "Thank god," she said.
"I do think I'm developing the habit of making you choke on your drink," commented Blaise. For the first time that day, Hermione genuinely laughed.
"Well, I would appreciate it if you try not to," joked Hermione.
"I'll do my best!"
Because she found Blaise a great conversationalist and highly amusing, Hermione spent the entire time of the feast talking to him without her realizing it. It was all too soon for her when the guests started to say their goodbyes and congratulations for the last time. The waiters began cleaning up the place. Even Blaise said his farewell, bading Hermione a sincere good night. She noticed that Pansy had also left and before long, the only persons remaining were Narcissa, Maud, Draco and herself. At once, her nervousness came back. She mustered up the courage and walked towards them. Maud was still at it, yelling at the waiters at their every move. Narcissa was holding Draco's hand and looked very happy. Draco just looked tired.
Narcissa noticed Hermione as she came nearer, and to her surprise, she extended her arm to her and then enveloped her into a one-arm hug.
"You look stunning, my dear," said Narcissa, giving her a full look. Hermione thanked her graciously. She glanced at Draco, expecting him to look like he was about to disagree. But he was looking at her blankly.
Maud came towards them, after giving a particularly nasty comment to one of the waiters.
"Narcissa, I think we are finished here," she declared, giving Hermione a look. "I don't like your dress," she told her frankly.
Though Hermione very much wanted to agree, she still felt insulted. She tried to look apologetic.
"Don't you furrow your brow at me," admonished Maud, mistaking Hermione's intention. "Really, Narcissa, this girl doesn't have manners!"
"Stop it, Grandma," Draco spoke all of a sudden. They all looked at him. He was rubbing his eyes. "We're tired, Grandma. I bet you are, too. I think you should be on your way."
Narcissa nodded. "Yes, Draco's right. We should get going, Mother, it's bad for you to stay tense,"
"Yes, yes, I suppose so," said Maud, giving a slight wave. "Well then, let us go, Narcissa. I presume Lucius is waiting for us in the car,"
Narcissa smiled at Hermione again. "Well, congratulations, dear. We'll just see you then,"
Hermione beamed at her. "Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy,"
"Oh no, just call me Mother, if you like,"
"I would love that,"
Maud raised an eyebrow. "And you can call me Madame,"
Hermione stopped herself from rolling her eyes. "Of course, Madame,"
"Goodbye, then, Draco dear," said Maud, giving Draco a peck on the cheek. Narcissa also gave him one. And to Hermione's joy, Narcissa also kissed her on the cheek. Unlike Maud, of course.
The two women stepped out of the room, finally leaving the newly wedded couple alone.
Hermione turned to Draco. "So...what now?" she asked nonchalantly.
Draco yawned. "I'm going to sleep,"
"Oh. Okay."
Draco had begun to walk away, but Hermione caught up with him.
"Wait! Where are we going to... going to stay?"
"We? We're not going to stay anywhere. I'm going to my room and you---" he brought out a key from his pocket and handed it to Hermione. "---you are going to yours. I'll be seeing you, Granger!" Without another word, he turned away from her and walked away.
Hermione was left standing alone in the empty ballroom. A tear escaped her eye as the last light from the chandelier went out.
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Next Chapter: The Honeymoon….
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A/N: So, how was it? Pretty long, huh. I told you it would be. Well, just stay tuned for further plot development. And just in case you're wondering, I loved book 6 because Draco was not just on the sidelines. I just wish he wasn't so chicken. At least my Draco isn't OOC if you consider that.
Much thanks to:
auddy
Aya-Lane
AznAnimeGrl2649
Chewy518
eeesah
EngShin
Hazelocean
Koel
MioneSevShipper
mzchilin
OrgnlAmagic
ozzycow
PaRTy-GiRL089
Payne no Akuma
pinkstar146
Red and Gold
thespare617
unspottedgiraffe
Venursia
So, peeps, you know what to do! R&R! I'm going to be waiting for your reviews!