Chapter Two

Rude Awakening

Hermione awoke slowly, her head pounding uncomfortably, her throat parched, sunlight searing her eyes. She squinted her eyes shut and frowned, disoriented, wondering why she hadn't shut the hangings around her bed like she usually did. She rolled over, trying to get away from the bright light...

And found herself staring at the sleeping face of Draco Malfoy.

Her eyes widened in disbelief and confusion. What, exactly, was he doing in her bed?

Oh, god, what was he doing in her bed? She hurriedly sat up; Draco's arm, which had been wrapped around her, slid across her chest before falling back to the bed. In horror, she realized not only was she completely nude, but Draco was also. She stared at him, some dim corner of her brain noting the fact that he was rather muscular. A white sheet covered him from the chest down, and it took a second for her shocked brain to register that she didn't have white sheets; her Hogwarts bedding was all done in Gryffindor red.

She looked up sharply; she was in a hotel room, no doubt about it. She was on a large, king-size bed; the only other furniture were a long, low chest of drawers with a large mirror attached and a television perched on top, a little writing desk and chair in one corner with a pad of paper and an ice bucket on it, and a small round table with four chairs. Clothes were strewn around the room, thrown about haphazardly; several chairs and a lamp were knocked over and her bra was hanging on top of the television. A few empty alcohol bottles were on the table and a bottle of red wine sat in the ice bucket. Dully she realized that not only did the room smell sort of funky, she was sore in places she damned well shouldn't be sore, and noticing that made her notice that parts of her were sort of sticky and the sheets beneath her were a bit damp.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!"

Draco's eyes flew open at the sound of an ear-splitting, terrified scream. He rolled over, reaching for his wand automatically, and promptly fell off the bed, landing on soft blue carpeting.

Shocked, confused, he stood up, wondering where he was. He turned around, trying to ignore the pain in his head and the hangover and sleepiness that made his limbs feel like lead as he faced the bed—

—and saw Hermione Granger, sitting naked in the middle of the mattress.

Horror washed over him as she stared back at him. His eyes darted around the room, thoughts full of dread flashing through his now wide-awake brain. Clothes thrown everywhere. Hotel stationary. Liquor bottles. He'd screwed Granger. Oh god, he'd screwed Granger. HE'D SCREWED GRANGER!

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!" he screamed.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!" Hermione agreed.

"Oh, shit," he moaned. "No. No, oh god no! How the hell did this happen?"

"I don't know! I'm sure it's all your fault!" she shrieked.

"MY fault? How do you figure?"

"I... I... it just is!" She suddenly seemed to remember she was naked, and dived for the sheet, pulling it up to her chest. Draco hurriedly grabbed a pillow, holding it over himself.

He gulped, breathing heavily. "I... how... where are we?"

"We're in a hotel room, you idiot! You got me drunk and brought me to a hotel room!"

"I can see that, damn it! Where are we, though? What city? How do we get to Hogwarts?"

"Oh, god, Hogwarts! They must be worried sick!"

Draco's heart stopped at the thought of Harry, Ron, and Ginny. They would kill him! "How... where... we must still be in London, we couldn't have gone far, we'll just ask someone if we can borrow Floo powder and—"

"We're in a Muggle hotel!" Hermione shouted, pointing at the large black box on top of the dresser. Draco stared at it blankly.

"What on earth is that? How do you know we're in a Muggle hotel?" Draco demanded.

"It's a television, moron! It's a Muggle television."

"You're right, that's a fellytone—" Draco said, catching sight of one on the desk.

"Telephone," Hermione corrected automatically.

"I don't care what it's called!" Draco roared. "It's a Muggle piece of junk in a Muggle hotel room! What am I doing in a Muggle hotel room with you?"

"What are you doing in a Muggle hotel room with me?" she shouted. "What? Why? WHY!!!"

Draco started to yell at her, but stopped and took a deep breath. "We have to stop freaking out. We... we need to be calm, and rationalize the situation. Yeah. That's what we need to do. We need to get dressed, get to Diagon Alley, and get back to school, hopefully before anyone realizes we're missing. We can Floo to Hogwarts from the Alley—"

"No, we can't," Hermione said, calming slightly, her breathing now only slightly erratic.

"Why not?" he asked. "Can... can we not get to Diagon Alley from the Muggle world?"

"We can get there, but you can't Floo into Hogwarts, much like you can't Apparate into there. If you could use Floo, they wouldn't bother with the train or the carriages or anything. You have to be given a certain sort of consent, it's complicated... but you can't get in whenever you want, you have to be allowed in. Unless permission is given by the headmaster or certain others, the Hogwarts fires are all for communication only or to travel within the school."

"How do you know?"

"I read it in Hogwarts: A History," she said, rolling her eyes. She stood up, shakily, and grabbed her bra off the television, wrapping the sheet around her like she would a bath towel. "I... I need a shower," she said, looking rather green. "I just... we... I need a shower," she repeated.

She headed for one of the two doors in the room, which Draco presumed to be the bathroom, as the other door had more intricate type of doorknob and some sort of chain at the top that he presumed to be a flimsy Muggle lock. As Hermione moved past him, Draco turned away accordingly, trying to keep as much of himself from her eyes as he could.

She found her wand next to the wine and ice bucket, still in its cleverly designed arm cuff, which could be hidden by sleeves and brought the wand to her hand with a flick of her wrist. She strapped the cuff back to her forearm, then grabbed the bottle of wine as an afterthought before bending over to pick up her clothes. As she straightened up and started heading back towards the bathroom, Draco caught sight of a mark on her shoulder.

"Stop!" he said loudly, rushing forward.

"What?" she asked, startled, turning to face him.

He grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her back around somewhat roughly, not even noticing that he dropped the pillow as he stared at the design on her right shoulder blade. It was a small heart surrounded by a silver circle, with "Draco Malfoy" written in black, old-fashioned script in the center of the heart. In the point of the heart was a small dragon. "Oh, shit," he breathed. He turned her around again, then stepped in front of her with his back to her.

"What are you doing?" she demanded.

"Do I have a tattoo?" he asked, belatedly remembering to retrieve the pillow and cover himself in the back.

"What are you on about?" she snapped.

"On my shoulder! Do I have a tattoo?"

"What... oh, my god. You tattooed my name on your shoulder?!"

"No," he said distractedly. He went to the bed and sat down heavily, replacing the pillow over his front as he did. "Oh, shit."

"It's just a tattoo," she said, shrugging. "It'll come off; we'll find a spell when we get back."

"No," he said again. "No, it won't come off. Don't you realize what this is?"

"What are you talking about?" she asked.

"Hermione... we're married."

"No we most certainly are not married!" she exclaimed, staring at him as if he'd just given birth to a hippogriff.

"Yes, we are," he said, unable to think straight. "We went and got married! How... why..."

"Draco, you've obviously gone mad. We didn't get married, you just have a tattoo. How did that happen, anyway? Why would a tattoo parlor be open in the middle of the night last night?"

"Hermione, don't you recognize—oh, god, you're a Muggle-born... of course you don't recognize..."

"How dare you insult me about being a Muggle-born—"

"I'm not insulting you! Hermione, when wizards get married, the priest casts a spell that gives them tattoos. It symbolizes their marriage."

Hermione froze. "Oh, my god, you're right," she whispered. She had been wandering around with Ginny in Muggle London once, and they'd seen a diamond ring in a jewelry store display window. Hermione had said she wanted a ring just like it when she got married, and Ginny had asked, "Why when you get married?" Ginny hadn't known that Muggles got engagement rings and wedding bands when they got married. Hermione had told her all about it, but they'd changed the subject before she could ask Ginny how wizards got married.

"Oh, god," she repeated.

She fainted.

Draco rushed to her side, slapping her cheeks and trying to wake her. It didn't work, and Draco decided he should perhaps let her stay unconscious for the time being; oblivion sounded like a good place to be at the moment.

Shaking, he stood up, gathering his clothes and heading off to pee and take a shower, trying not to think but failing. He'd gotten drunk, he'd gotten married, and then apparently he'd consummated the marriage.

He tried his best to remember last night. The party. The argument. They'd made up, she'd told him stories while they'd gotten drunker... then what?

Flashback

Draco stared at Hermione as she tilted another glass of whisky to her lips. She was so beautiful, so full of life. She looked at him, smiled at him—really smiled, not the fake smile she usually gave him, but the real one she usually reserved for Harry, Ron, and Ginny, and just about everyone else but him. He found himself leaning in to kiss her.

Her lips were parted, and he darted his tongue between them, massaging her tongue with his own. She tasted like chocolate and liquor, and the combination was more intoxicating than all the alcohol in the world. She kissed him back, surprisingly well, and when he finally pulled away his lips actually tingled.

So did his cheek a second later, as she smacked it, hard, nearly knocking him off his barstool. He stared at her, bringing his hand up to hold the side of his face. "What did you do that for?" he asked sourly; he'd forgotten how hard she could hit. It had, after all, been four years since he'd warranted a slap from her, and she seemed to be improving as the years went by. "You liked it! You kissed me back!"

"I didn't want you to think I was a bad kisser," she said matter-of-factly, as though that made all the sense in the world. Her words slurred slightly. "You didn't have my permission, silly, you can't just kiss someone without their permission." She paused, apparently thinking hard about something. "Draco, can I kiss you?" she asked finally.

He stared at her for a second in disbelief, then said, "I don't know. Will you slap me for it this time?"

She appeared to think again. "Maybe."

Draco decided it was worth it. "Yeah, you can kiss me."

End Flashback

He couldn't remember everything... They'd kissed for a while, and then he'd whispered "I love you" to her... She had stood up at some point, asked him to marry her... He'd said okay, he knew a priest who could do the ceremony... They had Apparated to a friend of his mother's house, and the crazy little old man had been so happy for Draco that he drew up the certificate right away, ignoring or perhaps completely missing the fact that Draco and Hermione were utterly trashed... They said their vows... the tattoos glowed brightly on the backs of their shoulders... They'd gotten a hotel room...

Draco flushed as memories of the moment he'd stepped into the room came back. They'd shrugged off their robes immediately, and then Hermione had slammed him against the door and kissed him while she unfastened his pants, then pulled away and ripped his trousers down...

He turned the shower water to cold as he remembered parts of the rest of the night; the thought of it was giving him a strong urge to do it again. She had been the most incredible shag he'd ever had, and he was having a hard time caring about marriage tattoos or things like birth control spells—

"Birth control!" he gasped, realizing suddenly he didn't remember using any. He racked his brains, trying to piece together the events of the previous night. She had gone down on him first thing, and then he had ripped her clothes off, lifted her by the waist and slammed her against the wall... "Shit," he said, hitting the palm of his hand hard against the shower wall. God, if she was pregnant he'd have to Avada Kedavra himself... but one night, what were the odds of that? They weren't nonexistent, but they certainly were slim. Relaxing a little, Draco forced all worries (and sexual images) about last night out of his mind, and concentrated on planning the return trip to Hogwarts.

Eventually, he forced himself to get out of the shower, toweling dry and getting dressed. The button-down shirt he'd been wearing was missing several buttons, and he vaguely remembered Hermione unbuttoning a few of them before grabbing the two halves of his shirt and ripping them apart roughly. Shrugging, he left the shirt open; he knew from experience that he'd need all the buttons on hand to properly cast a Reparo spell. He waved his wand to fix his hair into the spiky style he'd been wearing since his sixth year and grabbed his dress robes, deciding not to bother with wearing them if they were in a Muggle area.

Hermione was awake, sitting at the desk and drinking the red wine from the bottle. She looked over at him, her gaze drawn immediately to the muscles of his chest. He smirked as she stared, then she glanced up and caught his expression. She blushed and her face transformed into a glare. "Could you fix your shirt, please?" she snapped.

"Sorry. Someone popped off half the buttons when they ripped my shirt open last night," he said smoothly.

She grimaced and took another swig from the bottle, nodding at the window. "I think we're on the Mediterranean," she said lightly. "The trees and stuff look really familiar. And I believe I've stayed at that hotel down the beach there, during the holidays a few years back."

"The Mediterranean?" Draco repeated in disbelief. "As in the Mediterranean Sea?"

Hermione nodded and sighed. "I'd like to say we're in France, but I'm not too sure. I can't remember if that hotel was in France, Italy, or Greece."

Draco frowned and did his best to remember last night. A vision came to him of Draco and Hermione, arms around each other, standing before two sleepy clerks and trying to communicate what they needed. "We're in France," he said finally. "I remember—you spoke French, but not very well, as drunk as you were. Why the hell would we go to France? What were we thinking?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Given what we were doing last night, I'd say we tried to go on a honeymoon."

Draco couldn't help it; he burst out laughing. "But of course, what else?" he gasped through his laughter. "Well, hmm. What do people do on their honeymoon? I know! Do you want to go sightseeing? Or should we shag again? Personally, I vote for option number two."

Hermione glared at him, her fingers twitching as though she longed to strangle him. Then she walked by him without a word, grabbing her clothes and disappearing into the bathroom.

Hermione didn't come out of the shower for over an hour, her skin scrubbed almost painfully well. She unfortunately hadn't been able to find her underwear, and didn't think she'd have the guts to ask Draco if he'd seen them; she'd have to do without until they made it back to Hogwarts. When she came out of the bathroom, however, she found Draco sitting on the edge of the bed, holding up her favorite black, lacy thong by the waistband and examining it intently. She gaped at him for a moment, and he looked up at her and smirked. "Lose something?" he asked.

"Give them back," she said dangerously.

Draco tucked the panties into his pocket. "Nah, I think I'll keep them. You know, as a reminder of our wedding night. Our first night of passion."

"Our first? Try only," she snarled. "Give them back, Draco."

"You know, I never figured you for a thong type of girl," he said thoughtfully. "Hmm. Why, I wonder what Harry and Ron would say...?"

"Draco, you give me back my knickers or so help me—"

"Now there's something you don't hear every day."

"Draco Malfoy!"

"Come on, love, we are married after all, why shouldn't I keep them—"

"Draco give me them this instant!" she shouted.

"What would you give me?" he asked, folding his arms over his chest with a smug grin and waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

At last remembering she was a witch, she flicked her wrist and grabbed her wand as it shot from its holder. Draco looked remorseful and worried for a second, but instead of cursing him, she shouted "Accio knickers!"

Draco grabbed her underwear out of the air before they could reach her. "Attempting to Summon your own knickers, this'll be a story to tell our grandchildren, it will. The first spell you ever cast as my wife—"

"Damn you!" Hermione shouted, stamping her foot. "Fine! Keep the damn things!"

"Why thank you, sweetheart," he said, smiling and shoving the panties back in his pocket. She groaned and rolled her eyes, having expected him to give up once she had stopped making a fuss. "Now. I suppose since we can't Floo to Hogwarts, and we can't Apparate onto the grounds, we'd better Apparate to Hogsmeade and walk up, hmm?"

"Duh," she growled, then sighed. "I am so not looking forward to explaining this to Harry and Ron."

"Um... do we have to explain it to them?" he asked nervously, dreading just such a thing.

"Yes, we do," she said, smiling at him and feeling much better at the look on his face. "Perhaps I'll also mention that you stole my panties, too."

"Nice try, Granger," Draco told her. Damn, she thought irritably. "Let's get going, hmm? They're probably already freaking out as we speak. We should be able to go straight to the path leading up to the castle."

Hermione nodded, then gathered up her courage and Apparated.

A few seconds after she'd arrived, Draco appeared next to her with a loud cracking noise. "Oh... did we, um, pay for the room?" she wondered, tossing her dress robes onto her shoulder to carry them easier.

"Yes, I remember doing it last night, you had this weird little thing called a credy car," Draco replied. She didn't bother to correct him. "And I called them while you were in the bathroom, told them we were leaving the room and all. Thank god the day clerk spoke English." Hermione started to ask him what else he remembered, then thought better of it—who knew what Draco would say. She, herself, only remembered bits and pieces—kissing at the Ministry, sex in the room. She forced herself not to think about it, and settled for just being glad that she hadn't had to go down to the lobby; she really didn't want to go check out of the room formally.

With every step towards Hogwarts, Hermione felt the urge to flee grow stronger and stronger. Eventually, the front doors came into view, and she felt an icy chill run down her spine when she spotted Harry, Ron, and Ginny running out the doors and dashing across the lawn towards them.

"Oh, help," she whispered to Draco, a sinking feeling in her stomach.

"Run," he joked, straight-faced. "Just turn and run, and keep running. Don't look back."

"Ha, ha," she said sarcastically. The next instant, Harry, who was fastest, reached them and threw his arms around Hermione, picking her up and swinging her through the air. "Thank God!" he proclaimed, setting her down only to have her yanked away and swept up into Ron's arms.

Ginny, seeing Hermione occupied, ran straight to Draco, hugging him fiercely. Then she smacked him upside the head before pulling away. "Where have you been?!" she yelled in his face as Harry took Hermione back from Ron and bear-hugged her and Draco rubbed his head, cowering before Ginny, who somehow seemed a lot taller and scarier, much like Mrs. Weasley did when angry. "We thought you were dead! We thought you were hurt! We've been scared out of our minds, wondering what happened to you two! Don't you ever do that again!"

Harry, who had started to pull away from Hermione, stopped and stared at her neck. "Hermione? What happened to your neck?" he asked in a strangled voice.

Hermione's hands flew up to slap against both sides of her throat, but not fast enough to prevent Ron and Ginny from seeing that it was covered in hickeys. "Nothing," she squeaked, sending a terror-stricken look at Draco, whose expression mirrored her own.

Three pairs of eyes went to Draco's neck. Though only one hickey marked him, it was still enough. Time seemed to freeze for a second as they all stood still, staring at each other in horror. Then:

"I'LL KILL YOU!" bellowed Ron, lunging at Draco. Before Draco could even take a step back, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny acted; they'd become more and more used to such things in recent years, especially as Ron had grown a lot taller and stronger. Hermione jumped on Ron's back and Harry and Ginny seized his arms, doing everything they could to hold him back. "I'LL KILL YOU!" Ron shouted over and over.

"Ron! Calm down!" Ginny chastised, digging her heels into the lawn.

"RRRRRAAAAAGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!" Ron screamed.

"Ron, stop it!" Harry shouted.

"Don't, Ron!" Hermione shrieked, wrapping her legs around his torso.

Draco gulped and backed away nervously—right into his godfather, Severus Snape.

"What is going on here?" Snape demanded. Harry, Hermione, Ginny, and Draco looked up with identical expressions that clearly said "uh-oh." "Weasley, what—"

"Uncle Severus—" Draco began timidly.

"Do not address me so informally at school, Draco," Snape told him coldly. Draco winced. Snape wasn't really his uncle; it was more an affectionate name for him, as he had grown up with Snape being just as close as a relative. Usually, it softened Snape and got Draco out of trouble, and Snape had always let using the nickname slide before. Unfortunately, Snape telling Draco not to use it probably meant he knew Draco hadn't come back to Hogwarts after the Ministry party. "Weasley, what in the name of all that's holy—"

Ron let out another roar, and Snape took a startled step back, then quickly composed himself. "You listen to me, Weasley—" Snape began, but Draco cut him off.

"Professor, it's not what you think," Draco said hurriedly. Snape raised an eyebrow at him. "Okay, it's exactly what you think, Ron is trying to kill me, but... um... see... I-accidentally-married-Hermione-last-night," he finished in a rush.

"What was that, Draco?" Snape asked.

Draco took a deep breath. "I accidentally married Hermione last night."

Hermione buried her face in Ron's hair. Ron, Harry, and Ginny went rigid with shock, as did Snape, and then suddenly Ron let loose another bellow and leaped forward, causing Snape and Draco to jump; Harry and Ginny just barely grabbed Ron's arms in time.

"What do you mean, married?" Harry shouted, as he struggled to keep Ron in check.

"Married?" Ginny repeated, staring at him incredulously.

"RRRRRAAAAAGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!" Ron added.

Snape seemed to be at a loss for words. Dozens of emotions played across his face before he finally settled on anger and disgust. "How drunk can you get in one night?" he snapped at Draco. "All five of you, come with me. You'll need to see the Headmaster. Weasley, get a hold of yourself."

It took a few moments, but Ron finally stopped trying to attack. Hermione slid off his back and Harry and Ginny let go—only to have Ron run full-speed at Draco a split-second later.

It is an incredibly frightening thing, to have a Weasley charging at you like a freight train. Especially a six-foot-three, well-built, really really angry Weasley.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!" Draco screamed, and took off, dropping his dress robes as he turned towards the castle, running like hell for Dumbledore's office.

"RRRRRAAAAAGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!" Ron roared.

"Ron, stop!" Harry yelled, running after Ron.

"Stupid Weasley temper," Ginny muttered as she followed.

"I'm getting a divorce, honest!" Hermione screamed, scooping up Draco's robes and dashing after Ginny.

"Detention, all of you!" Snape shouted, hurrying off after them.

Fred and George Weasley climbed the stairs in the entrance hall, on their way to Gryffindor Tower to visit their brother and sister and friends. "Sure is nice to be back here," Fred mused. "I miss it."

"Yeah... but we went out with a blast," George said, reminiscing.

"Ron and Ginny say we're still a Hogwarts legend," Fred said proudly.

"Same old Hogwarts," George said with a chuckle.

Then, quite suddenly, a terrified scream reached their ears and they spun, wands drawn, looking towards the open front doors in alarm. A few seconds later, Draco Malfoy ran in and up the stairs past the twins, yelling his head off, wearing no robes, just trousers and an open dress shirt. "What was that all about?" Fred wondered as the Slytherin disappeared down the corridor.

The answer came in an inarticulate cry of rage. Ron Weasley, their younger brother, ran into the entrance hall, his face, neck and ears an ugly red, his arms over his head, his fingers curved into claws, every bit the picture of some sort of boogeyman. He, too, dashed up the stairs, still howling like a monster with every step.

"Um, ohhhhkaaaaaaaaaay," George said.

"Ron! Come back here! Damn it, Ron!"

They looked back to the entrance hall doors to see Harry, glasses askew, arms pumping madly for speed. "Hey guys," he called to the Weasley twins as he blew past.

Automatically, they turned to the doors again, and sure enough there was Ginny a second later. She paused halfway up the stairs, pecked each of her older brothers a kiss on the cheek, and rushed off. "I'll explain later!" she yelled over her shoulder.

Before she'd made it to the top of the stairs, Hermione entered, with high heels clacking against the marble floor and her long, thick hair flying behind her. "Hold these!" she shouted, tossing two sets of dress robes at the twins and kicking her shoes off in their direction. "Ron! Don't do this!" she shrieked, hurrying after the others in her bare feet.

George examined the dress robes with a puzzled expression as a bewildered Fred bent to pick up the shoes.

"DETENTION!" roared a new voice, and the both of them jumped. Snape rushed in, wand out and black robes billowing around him dramatically. "GET BACK HERE NOW! ALL OF YOU!" Snape hurtled up the stairs, wheezing between threats as he pursued his students.

Fred and George looked at each other. "Yeah, same old Hogwarts," Fred agreed. "What are we waiting for?"

The Weasley twins eagerly chased after them.