Author's Notes: So sorry this took so long to get up! I've been so busy and this was a lot harder to fix than I thought it would be. I'm so glad I finally finished it, though; hope y'all like it. It's not as humorous as the second and third chapters, but there's more of that stuff to come, I promise.
Well, this will probably be my last update until early January. I'm going to try to update from my friends' houses, but I'm going to be moving around Michigan, Ohio, Kentucky and Tennessee from December 18 to January 4 and it'll be difficult to write, let alone post, but I'll do my best. I'm about half-done with the next chapter of "The Prank War," though, and I'm probably going to get a lot of inspiration from seeing my psycho friends and family over the holidays. Still, at the moment, I plan on being offline until at least January 4 or 5. So… catch y'all when I get back. Please review, guys.
Chapter Four
Telling the World
Draco ran up the stairs to the entrance hall, a few minutes late for his meeting with the four Gryffindors. "Sorry," he panted. "I couldn't find anything to wear; I don't have many Muggle clothes."
Hermione gaped at him; he was wearing the same pants he'd been wearing Saturday night and Sunday morning, and she could see the telltale bulge in his pocket where her panties obviously still were. Draco caught her glance and patted his pocket, winking cheekily at her. She grimaced and looked away; Harry and Ginny noticed the exchange and frowned, but Ron was avoiding looking at Draco and missed the whole thing.
They set off, heading down the path to Hogsmeade and Apparating to Diagon Alley once they'd left the castle grounds. (Ginny, who had only just turned seventeen in March and had only gotten her Apparating license over Easter holidays, looked shaky afterwards, and ended up holding Harry's hand.) After a quick stop at Gringotts to retrieve some gold and have it changed into Muggle money, they cut through the Leaky Cauldron and headed off through Muggle London.
"I talked to Dumbledore as soon as I got the letter from Mr. Fielding—Sirius's lawyer—and he let me use the Floo network to communicate with Fielding directly. He gave me directions, told me a bit about it… it's supposed to be huge, and it's close to Diagon Alley and not far from the Ministry…"
"What does that matter?" Draco asked. "You can Apparate, remember?"
"Well, still," Harry said noncommittally. He pulled out a sheet of parchment with directions written on it. "We go this way." He pointed down a nearby street.
They headed off through London, forcing conversation as they went, which soon developed into light, smooth banter. The five of them had faced a lot together, and they were determined not to let the awkwardness surrounding Draco and Hermione's marriage overpower their friendship. They chattered away as they walked, discussing summer plans and how much they were going to miss Hogwarts; only Ron seemed distant.
Soon they arrived on a street populated mostly by old, large houses made of brick and stone, which were more-or-less well-cared for. "This is the street," Harry said, "down half a block on the north side…"
"Admit it, Potter, we're lost," Draco teased.
"We are not lost," Harry insisted, which he had been repeating off and on for the past half hour. He paused and turned to look around them. "Which way is north?"
"That way," everyone else replied, pointing in four different directions. Harry sighed.
"Mr. Potter?"
They turned to see a short, balding man in Muggle clothes approaching them. "Are you Mr. Fielding?" Harry asked.
"That I am," the man replied, extending his hand, which everyone shook. "Pleasure to finally meet you all, I must say. This way, it's right down here—"
"Ha!" Draco gloated. "I was right! That way's north!"
"Actually, that way's west," Hermione told him smugly. "We're on the north side, walking to the west."
"Afraid she's right," said Mr. Fielding as he led them down the street, stopping in front of a large stone house that looked quite decrepit and had several broken or boarded windows and a black wrought-iron fence surrounding an overgrown lawn. It was easily the most pathetic-looking house on the block. "Well, this is it," he said cheerfully, nodding at the house.
"Well, it's a real fixer-upper," Draco muttered.
Mr. Fielding chuckled. "That's just an illusion spell, actually. Put it up after Sirius got out of Azkaban… because the house mysteriously started fixing itself up, if you get my meaning." He opened the gate and motioned the five of them inside the yard… and suddenly the house transformed into a much larger one, much the way Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place appeared from nowhere, only this time the houses on either side weren't shoved as far apart. The lawn was now well-groomed, and the house was perfectly maintained.
"Wicked," Ron breathed.
"Why on earth didn't Sirius use this place as Headquarters?" Hermione asked, staring up at it in awe. It was positively enormous, and very beautiful.
"The Ministry would have thought of that, I guess," Harry said. "They wouldn't have thought about Grimmauld Place—not sure they even knew about it, really. Sirius was disowned, and he hated his family; no one would have thought he'd go back there."
They went inside, gazing around at the house; for something that had been empty for years, it wasn't the least bit run down. "It looks a lot different than it did sixteen years ago," Mr. Fielding remarked. "Remus must have been putting a lot of work into it. I often wondered if the poor bloke stayed here on occasion—I knew he still had his key and all—but it didn't occur to me that Remus could have been renovating the place for Sirius, not until after the real story about Sirius came out."
Mr. Fielding started pointing out various rooms and giving them a lot of information about the house and its features, sounding like a cross between a real estate broker and a textbook. The house still needed a lot of work and furnishings, but overall, it was incredible. They glanced around the living room before spending a few moments in the kitchen, which led to a lot of questions from Ron, Ginny and Draco—it was full of modern Muggle appliances, few of which the three purebloods had ever seen before. After that, Harry, Ron and Hermione completed a tour of the first floor only to realize that they'd lost Ginny and Draco somewhere; they quickly returned to the kitchen. Sure enough, they found Ginny staring in amazement at the revolving plate in the microwave with the timer set on a half hour, and Draco gazing inside the blender and pressing buttons, laughing as the blades stopped and restarted.
"Guys, check this out!" Draco exclaimed, brandishing the blender at them and consequently yanking the cord out of the wall. He punched a button and then frowned when nothing happened, stabbing at each button in turn in a panic. "Oh, no! I broke the large creepy growling cup!"
Harry and Hermione burst out laughing and Hermione stepped forward to carefully take the blender from him while Harry did his best to explain to Ginny about the negative effects of radioactivity caused by microwaves. "It doesn't make any sense, Harry," Ginny complained as they headed upstairs. "How can a metal box be dangerous? All it does is glow and hum and spin a big plate round and round."
"Is that gigantic white box dangerous, too?" Draco said worriedly. "The one that's really cold inside and big enough to climb in?"
"Please tell me you didn't climb in the refrigerator," Harry said.
"Of course not," Draco said, not meeting Harry's eyes.
They toured the second floor, which was mostly bedrooms and bathrooms, along with a large study filled with empty bookcases that Hermione eyed eagerly, and then Mr. Fielding showed them the attic and basement. "You know," Hermione said, "this doesn't make sense. How does this place have electricity? It's under all sorts of enchantments, and yet magic makes electrical devices go haywire—"
"Wizards can get electricity through the Ministry, actually," Mr. Fielding told her. "Back in the sixties, a Muggle-born who missed some of the Muggle inventions he grew up with came up with a way to run electricity off magic. The process involved is complicated, really, and not many people bother with it, preferring the wizarding way; it's expensive, too. But back when Sirius purchased the house, one could pay a flat fee for it, and Lily Potter convinced him to buy it."
"Dad's been wanting it for years," Ron said. "But Mum says it costs too much."
"I think she's more concerned with all the Muggle things Dad could bring home and blow up if we had ekel-tricity, though," Ginny said.
"Why is it that they never shut the electricity off?" Hermione asked.
"That's not how it works," Mr. Fielding replied. "It's a magic sort of power, so it's not produced; it's magic. Once the spell is cast, it stays cast, and the device purchased from the Ministry that powers the electricity will rejuvenate the spell. You may have to replace that device eventually, but until then—"
"We can have television!" Harry said excitedly.
"We can have actual heat! No more fires!" Hermione exclaimed.
The two of them rambled on about Muggle things they missed for a while before Mr. Fielding cleared his throat. "I must get going, I'm afraid," he said apologetically. "Should I send the papers by owl?"
"Er… yeah. So… so this is all mine, then?" Harry said, staring around in awe.
"Nearly everything of Sirius's is," Mr. Fielding said with a shrug. "You just have to sign a few things, and then I file them with the Ministry, and then they're legally yours. His gold, his house… even that flying motorbike, since Dumbledore was able to get back everything seized by the Ministry."
Harry nodded slowly, a distant haunted looking creeping across his face. Hermione took his hand and squeezed it; he gave her a smile, forcing away his grief about Sirius, for the moment at least. "Our new home," he said, glancing around with a grin. "Let's go celebrate, eh?"
"Sounds good to me," Ginny said. "No where with alcohol, though. You never know what those two might do." She jerked her head and Hermione and Draco, who both glared at her.
"Oh, ha, ha," Draco said, then sighed. "I may never drink again."
"That makes two of us," Hermione growled at him. Her eyes were on his pocket; apparently she hadn't forgotten her lost underwear.
They went to a Muggle restaurant, which had the three purebloods in awe; Coca-Cola and Pepsi products were strictly Muggle inventions and weren't often found in the wizarding world. Draco was fascinated by the bubbles, and Ginny took advantage of the free refills no less than seven times, eventually becoming rather high on the caffeine and sugar.
"So when does Auror training start?" Ginny asked the others, bouncing around in her seat a little from the sugar rush. "You'll be putting in a good word for me, right?"
"I think they already have your name on the 'accepted' list, Gin," Draco told her, sounding proud. "You've defeated several Death Eaters and faced the Dark Lord, not to mention the fact you got ten O.W.L.s."
"Training starts in September," Hermione told her. "I guess this is our last summer of freedom, eh?"
"It's only three years of training," Harry said with a shrug. "It's not much."
"Three years?" Ron repeated. "Is it really? Oh, maybe I should look at Quidditch as a career…"
"And waste those last two years of forcing yourself to take Potions when you didn't have to?" Harry said. "After all of that suffering you better believe I'll be an Auror."
"Uncle Severus can be a pain sometimes, can't he?" Draco said with a smile.
"I just hope we've all done well enough on our N.E.W.T.s," Hermione said worriedly. "The one for Transfiguration—"
"Oh, come off it, Herm, you've probably got the best scores since Dumbledore," Ron interrupted. "When do we get our N.E.W.T. scores, anyway?"
"We've a meeting with our head of house to receive our scores on Friday," Hermione said, exasperated. "Don't you listen to anything, Ron? There's been a meeting schedule posted on McGonagall's door since before we took our N.E.W.T.s."
"I am actually a bit worried," Draco admitted. "I mean, we spent the Friday before the N.E.W.T.s locked in a battle with You-Know-Who, we spent Saturday recuperating, and we spent all day that Sunday celebrating; I don't know if I studied enough."
"I'm sure we did fine," Harry said. "I was too happy to be nervous about it, but I still think I did okay. My potion looked like Hermione's, too," he said proudly.
"Don't scare her," Ginny teased.
"Ha, ha," Harry said, swatting at her playfully. He glanced at his watch. "Wow, it's getting late. We better get going." He signaled the waitress for the check.
"Let me buy, you guys," Draco said as the waitress left the bill; he was very pleased that they were all on speaking terms again, and had been on his best behavior the whole night. He reached for his money purse. "I've got Muggle money on me… help me figure it out…"
Harry and Hermione gave Draco, Ron, and Ginny a crash-course in the usage of Muggle money. They were waiting for the waitress to come back and pick up the money when Harry, who was sitting in between Draco and Ron in the restaurant booth, spotted something black and lacy lying on the seat between him and Draco. He picked up with a confused look on his face and held it up. It took him a second to realize it was a thong, and, when the look on Hermione's face confirmed it was hers, he thrust it at her with a horrified expression not unlike her own.
"Er… how exactly did your knickers end up next to Harry?" Ron asked, confused.
"Um," she mumbled, racking her brains for a good reason. "Well… see…"
"I think the better question," Harry said, with a nasty glance at Draco, "is how they got in Draco's pocket."
There was dead silence. Hermione looked mortified and angry beyond belief. Ginny was looking back and forth between Draco and Hermione with and eager expression, waiting for the details. Both Harry and Ron were glaring furiously at Draco, who now looked quite unhappy with the seating arrangement, which cornered him between Harry and the wall. For a long time, no one dared to move. Finally, Hermione exploded. "WHY couldn't you have just given them back?" Hermione shrieked at Draco.
"You stole her knickers?" Ron asked, his ears red and every freckle on his face visible.
"It was a joke," Draco whined.
"YOU STOLE HER KNICKERS?!" Ron shouted. The entire restaurant turned to stare at them.
"Thanks, Ron, I don't think Charlie heard you in Romania," Hermione moaned as Harry winced, rubbing his ear.
"When did this happen?!" Ginny asked, grabbing Hermione's arm excitedly. "Spill, girl!"
"Last Sunday," Hermione snapped. "He found them and wouldn't give them back."
"YOU'VE HAD HER KNICKERS IN YOUR POCKET SINCE SUNDAY?!" Ron yelled.
"I didn't… I just… she… well…"
"Why the hell have you been carrying them around?" Harry demanded. "What, were you going to have them framed? Bronzed? Turned into a paperweight for display on the coffee table?"
"I couldn't find any other pants!" Draco insisted. "I'd forgotten about them, damn it, it was just a harmless joke!"
"Harmless joke!?" Hermione repeated angrily. "STEALING MY KNICKERS AND GIVING THEM TO HARRY IS NOT A HARMLESS JOKE!"
Ginny burst out laughing. "Oh, this is priceless. Draco… your underwear… oh my god!"
The corners of Ron's mouth twitched. Harry let out a chuckle. The three of them took one look at Hermione's utterly furious expression and they were positively howling with laughter.
Surprisingly, after the underwear incident, even Ron was perfectly nice to Draco again. The tension about Draco's marriage to Hermione was broken, and the five of them spent almost every second of their last few days at Hogwarts together, playing Quidditch, shopping for furniture for the house, and visiting Hagrid; eventually Draco and sometimes even Blaise Zabini came over to the Gryffindor table during meals. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Draco discovered on that Friday they had gotten exceptionally good N.E.W.T. scores, which had them all positively glowing. Their spirits remained high until planning for their graduation ceremony began.
For Hermione was now a Malfoy.
"What do you mean, my name is automatically changed when I get married?!" Hermione shouted at Snape after he told her during their afternoon practice for the ceremony. Snape gave her a cold glare in response.
"I realize there is not much I can do to you in the way of points and detentions now that you're graduating," Snape told her with an edge in his voice, "but I'm afraid there are consequences to marrying Mr. Malfoy just the same."
"You did what?!" shrieked a voice in Hermione's ear. Hermione turned, filled with dread at the sight of Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown, standing behind her with identical shocked expressions. "You're kidding!" Parvati exclaimed.
"When did this happen?" Lavender demanded. "HOW did this happen?"
"Well, he's hot, I'll give you that," Parvati continued, at which point Snape walked away in disgust, "but he's a Slytherin! I know you've been friends for a while, but—married?!"
Ginny hurried over to rescue her, dragging her away from the other two girls. "It'll be okay, Herm," she said soothingly.
"Why? Why did they have to find out? They'll be telling the world before I can get into full panic mode!"
"They would've found out anyway when your name was announced," Ginny pointed out practically, but Hermione just moaned and buried her face in her hands. Ginny tried to take her mind off of it by adjusting Hermione's Head Girl sash and badge and trying to get Hermione to rehearse her speech.
By dinnertime two hours later, the entire school was gossiping about Hermione and Draco. Students flocked over to both of them in droves to ask if it was true. Harry, Ron, and Ginny did their best to keep the curious students at bay, and Blaise Zabini did what he could to both keep people from questioning Draco and keep Draco from cursing the questioners.
Draco and Blaise both sat at the Gryffindor table that evening at dinner, but students from all houses kept coming over to ask all sorts of uncomfortable things.
"Why would you marry a Mudblood?" asked Malcolm Baddock, a Slytherin fourth-year.
"Why would you marry a Gryffindor?" Graham Pritchard, another fourth-year Slytherin, wanted to know.
"Why would you get married at all?" asked Kevin Whitby, a Hufflepuff, with a disdainful glance at the two Slytherin boys.
Hermione was faring no better. "Have you gone on a honeymoon?" asked Hannah Abbot dreamily.
"That house you said you and Harry, Ron, Ginny and Malfoy are going to be living in—it's really yours and Malfoy's, isn't it?" Luna Lovegood exclaimed.
"How is he?" asked Parvati conspiratorially. "You know, in the sack?"
Hermione began to make not-entirely-faked retching noises. As Ginny patted her on the back in concern and Harry and Ron started coughing loudly, Draco apparently decided he'd had enough.
"What are you doing?" hissed Hermione as Draco climbed on top of the Gryffindor table and cupped his hands around his mouth.
"Listen up!" he shouted, as even the teachers looked up at him in curiosity and surprise. "It's true, okay? As of last Saturday I am married to Hermione Granger, Head Girl of Hogwarts! Yes, she is Muggle-born, and yes, she is a Gryffindor, and yes, I am a Slytherin, and yes, I am a pureblood! It is probably the most bizarre thing you've ever heard of and ever will hear of, but we're married and we're sick of your stupid questions! I'm not telling you why, I'm not telling you how many kids I plan on having, I'm not telling you how good she is in bed, I'm not telling you her bra size—"
"DRACO MALFOY!" Hermione shouted.
"I'm not telling you about our honeymoon and I'm not telling you a damned thing! The next person who asks me—or my wife—or my friends—anything about it will meet the same fate as Voldie, do you understand me?" He drew his wand and held it above his head for emphasis. "DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?!" he shouted again, with a rather crazed look on his face.
Several people nodded emphatically, and anyone from Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, or Slytherin practically ran back to their seats. Draco remained standing on the table with his hand thrust in the air as they left, and it was only when Snape started to stand up from the staff table and Hermione snapped "Are you done?" that he blinked, came back to reality, and jumped down, stuffing his wand in his robe pocket.
"Who asked you her bra size? Do you know it?" Blaise asked curiously. With a sigh, Draco began to beat his head against the table.
Over a thousand people came to the graduation ceremony, not including all of the other Hogwarts students. Hermione watched the Quidditch stands, magically lowered to the grounds, fill with people with a sinking feeling in her stomach.
"Hermione!" Fred called, as he and George made their way over to her; she was loitering behind the stands with the rest of the seventh years, awaiting their entrance. Fred was carrying a small box wrapped in red paper with a gold bow, which he handed to her with a flourish. "This is for you," Fred told her.
Mildly surprised, she thanked them and unwrapped it to reveal a Muggle toaster. "What on earth…?" she began, staring at them.
"We overheard some Muggle at the mall say they make great wedding presents," George said with a mischievous grin.
"Ha, ha," she said sarcastically, glaring at them balefully.
"It's our way of letting you know we're not sore you didn't invite us to the ceremony," Fred said, straight-faced.
"Oh, shut up," she snapped.
"Happy graduation," Fred told her with a laugh. "You will name your first born after us?"
"I'm not naming my child 'Irritating,'" Hermione told them with a sniff.
"I knew it! She is pregnant!" George teased, patting her belly. "Hi, there, little George!"
Parvati and Lavender caught sight of the action. "Oh my god!" Parvati shrieked, grabbing Lavender's hand and dragging her towards a group of seventh-year Ravenclaws.
"He was joking!" Hermione shouted after them. She glowered at the twins. "Damn it, you two, go away!"
Fred and George laughed as they obliged, waving cheekily at her as they left. Ginny came up and squeezed her hand. "Don't worry, okay? I have to go, Mum's saving me a seat—"
"Oh, god, Mrs. Weasley! Does she know?" Hermione asked.
"Um, not yet, no," Ginny said uncomfortably. Realizing the need to change the subject, she cast about for something to say and her eyes landed on the toaster. "Um, do you want me to hold your… what is that, anyway?"
Hermione thrust the toaster at her wordlessly. "I'm doomed," she whispered. "Oh, god."
Draco appeared at her side a moment later. "My mum's here," he said, sounding horror-struck and quite irked, as though his mother had no business turning up at his graduation. "I haven't told her yet… what now?"
Hermione felt a pang at the memory of her own parents, which didn't lessen in the slightest when she pictured their reaction to the news that she was married. Even though she knew how disappointed they would be in her after hearing about the circumstances surrounding her marriage, she still would give anything to have them there on her graduation day. On her last day at Hogwarts.
Hermione looked up at the Quidditch goalposts, towering above them. Memory after memory of Hogwarts was assaulting her, hitting her hard. The first major part of her life was now over… and a new one was beginning, one she knew nothing about. "What now?" indeed.
"That's a good question," she muttered.