A/N: Ack! It's taking me so long to finish this story! I've never worked on one story for so long, but then again, I've never had a story go over into 30-some chapters either. Anyways, things have been hectic in the life and times of yours truly, so be patient with me, and we'll probably see the end of this fic soon. In the meantime, thanks to: nehimasgift, Alana84, marauder'sbabe, Cryptic Sarcasm, KoolAidNightmare, o0Dreamer0o, Princess of Darkness-x, Hater-of-heartless-critics, Charming-Lynn, The daughter of Slytherin, emeraldice77, pheanix tears, bumblebee115, LandUnderWave, and Deceptive Fates.

Hopefully this chapter makes things partially worth the wait, although I must admit that no one reader or review of my story should have to wait that long at all. And keep in mind that you can always check out what's holding me up by visiting my website and my LiveJournal, both of which you can find links to on my profile page from FanFiction. Now, on with the chapter...

Chapter 35 – Wedding Festivities & Preparations

Hermione walked through the front doors of the King's castle in London and felt that she was relieved of all stress. That castle had grown to be like home to her, or at least a safety zone. She sighed and wished to do nothing more than retreat to the butterfly room with a good book. The journey home had been long, boring, and uncomfortable.

"Well, Ana," the King breathed, "it's good to be home, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is," Hermione replied as her ears prickled to the sound of approaching footsteps. She turned and saw Mima and Arthos on their way towards them. Hermione smiled and embraced her new friend who beamed as though she were the happiest girl in the world.

"I'm so glad that you're finally home," Mima whispered. "I have so much to tell you."

"Come, my friend," the King said, catching the attention of the two girls as he addressed the Duke. "Let us go have a drink whilst dinner is being prepared... Aramis, m'boy, would you care to join us?" Tom looked to Hermione who gave an expression of approval, so he followed them down the corridor to a study.

"C'mon," Hermione remarked. "We can head up to my room to talk."

"We'll see you at dinner, okay?" Mima instructed as she turned to Arthos who nodded and retreated outside.

Hermione felt that the stairs were just too much at that point and found herself slightly out of breath when she reached the top. The ride has been stiffening, so getting her body to move again was raising objections. She stretched a tad as Mima, who seemed just as energized as ever, walked gracefully beside her while still smiling broadly.

"What's with you?" Hermione asked as they came to her room and entered.

Mima became very excited looking; there was a glitter bursting in her eyes as her smile grew even larger. Once the door was shut, the Austrian Princess spun around in a circle and dropped onto the bed with a dreamy sigh.

"It's Arthos," she breathed languorously as she stared at the canopy of the bed.

"What about him?" the Gryffindor Head Girl asked as though she already knew the answer.

"He's... perfect," her companion answered as she laid her hands upon her chest in a lovestruck manner.

"And what makes him so perfect?"

"Well, while you were gone, I went back home for a few days," Mima explained, rolling over on the bed to lay on her stomach and watch Hermione who sat at the vanity. "But when I returned, I had expected you to be here, however, you weren't. So I decided to stay and wait for you, and I'm so very glad that I did."

Hermione smiled faintly at the look of pure glee on her new friend's face. Something was making her very happy, and it was rubbing off onto Hermione who found herself feeling relaxed and somewhat giddy as well. The mere look Mima wore and the spirit in her voice was enough to be contagious and infectious to anyone, no matter their mood.

"And?" Hermione urged.

"And it was so magical," Mima breathed. "We went to this university, and oh the books there. I was so enthralled by it. And when we returned that night, he had had the kitchen workers set up a candlelit dinner for us."

"How lovely," Hermione commented.

"But that's not the best of it," the other girl gushed. "The night after, we had went on a moonlit horseback ride. The next day he had packed up a lunch in a basket and took me into the country side."

"Sounds like you two are very in love," the pretend Anastasia noted.

"We are! I know we are!" Mima practically squealed in excitement. "I just know it because... well, he uh... he-"

"He what?" Hermione asked, feeling exhilaration rising in her own stomach. The anticipation of knowing what was making this girl in the room with her so happy was almost too much.

"He asked me to marry him!" Mima burst finally.

"Oh, Mima, that's wonderful! But what about-"

"About my family?" she finished for Hermione. "I've already written home to tell everyone of it. I believe I'll have their blessing."

"I'm so happy for you," Hermione grinned.

"I know... but anyway, what of your trip? You must tell me everything." With a nod, Hermione launched into story about the trip she had taken to the Duke and Duchess's castle and how she, too, was engaged to be married.

"I haven't seen the General anywhere, have you?" Hermione asked as she and Tom sat in the library later that night after dinner.

"Neither have I," Riddle confessed. "I think he'll be out of our hair for a while."

"Maybe that means we can get back to work on getting back to the future," she thought aloud.

"I doubt that," he murmured. "The King pretty much has things scheduled out for us, and the schedule is packed tight."

"What d'you mean?"

"When I went into that study with the Duke and the King earlier today, Duke Rodden asked if the King was going to go through with the usual wedding celebration considering the streak of bad luck that's been surrounding the lot of us lately. Well, the King thought about it for a moment and said that he would not let his daughter be deprived of her right to a proper wedding and all its festivities."

"All its festivities?" Hermione repeated, sounding partly worried.

"Yes. Apparently there's to be a week-long carnival and a wedding ball of some sort three nights before the wedding. He said something about importing fireworks and all sorts of stuff. From what I understand, this is going to be a big affair," Tom explained.

"Oh no," she groaned, slouching back in her chair. She began rubbing her temples as he fiddled with a book that was upon the table. This was going to prove to be a bigger pain than she had thought. She had hoped that telling the King she would engage herself to Tom would put them at bay for a while, however, it only tossed them into more turmoil.

"Princess!" bellowed someone from the corridor.

"I think she's in here."

"There you are," Janessa spoke politely. "Come. We've readied your bath water." Hermione looked from her ladies in waiting to Tom who inhaled deeply and rose from his chair.

"I'll see you bright and early tomorrow then," he muttered. "The King's sending a wake-up call for us because we're to go into town to begin picking out material for the wedding uniforms."

"Good night," she sighed as she turned away from him and followed Mary and Janessa from the library.

She dropped down onto a bench inside a men's clothing boutique. Hermione was exhausted; partly because she hadn't slept too well and was awoken early and partly because they had been walking through town for the last four hours. She, the King, Tom, and a number of others had been to the bakers, who expressed many apologies to the King and Hermione for his son who still hadn't returned home, the butchers, the florists, and the jeweler's. The party had also been stopped dozens of times by commoners who wished to tell the King that they were glad he was back and in good health. Not to mention those who wanted to bless Hermione and Tom over their marriage, and she had a feeling that it was giving Riddle cold feet. However, she wasn't much better because she too was growing doubts.

"I think that maybe we should just run away," he whispered as he dropped down on the bench beside her, throwing a look to the bay windows of the shop. Outside, the King was conversing with the town's smith as the man's four children ran about playing a game of tag.

"We can't do that. Running away from the problem won't help," she pointed out.

"It seemed to work terrifically for the real Anastasia and that baker's son," Tom reminded so that only she could hear.

"What works for one might not work for another," she argued as she watched the King laugh and pat the head of a boy who had been previously playing with the other three children.

"I really hope that we get out of here before he wants grandchildren."

"Oh, Merlin," Hermione mumbled with fearful thoughts of how birth would be. There were no medical advances that made birth any easier like an epidural or even labor inducers for that matter. Some women from this era were known to die during difficult births. 'That would be just my luck!' she thought miserably. 'I'll die giving birth to the spawn of Tom Riddle.' She almost groaned as she put her face in her left hand and closed her eyes. Then another thought came to her mind. Birth might be bad, but how would the act that would enable her to carry a child be? She looked out of the corner of her eye at Riddle. He was handsome, and she had already seen him without clothes, or at least the backside of him. 'He did have a nice bottom.' Her eyes bugged out because of what she had just thought. 'Oh, dear Lord, no!' she mentally whimpered. "Running away might not be such a bad idea after all," she murmured to him as the King entered the shop. "But where would we run to?"

"Bluffshire, I suppose," Tom answered in a soft spoken tone as the King bid hello to the shop owner and approached them.

"Aramis, son, let's get you measured for a suit," the older man beamed as he stopped before them, the shopkeeper in tow with an unrefined version of a seamstress's measuring tape hanging around his neck. Riddle stood as the King took to looking at rolled up pieces of fabric. Hermione remained in her seat and watched with half interest as the shop owner made Tom get up onto a stool so that he could measure him more easily. The stool wobbled, but Riddle kept his balancing as the clerk began making him pose like a stiff doll. First putting his arms parallel to the floor, then elongating his neck after which he had to stand up tall and straight, slightly pushing out his chest so that the shopkeeper could better measure his shoulders.

"I think I have a jacket in just your size," the clerk announced as he stood and replaced the measuring tape around his neck. "Just let me go fetch it." Tom stepped down from the stool and was headed for the bench were he had been sitting next to Hermione when the King spoke to him.

"Aramis, what color would you like your suit to be in?"

"Deep emerald," Riddle answered as he stopped and turned to the older man.

"That's hardly the color to wear to your wedding," the King remarked as he turned to look at more fabrics on an adjacent wall. "What about this gold material here?" Tom grimaced slightly. It reminded him of something a Gryffindor would wear, and though he had immense amounts of courage, he was no Gryffindor, but rather a Slytherin first, foremost, and forever.

"What about silver per chance?" the more youthful of the two suggested.

"But the royals have never worn anything but one of four colors for their weddings," the King supplied. "And that was either navy, gold, bronze, or crimson. Although Uncle Richard wore a deep violet to his own, however, I don't think that would suit you. So what do you say, m'boy?" Tom shrugged and looked to Hermione who sighed and sat up straight before addressing the matter.

"He wears red and navy for his military uniforms," she explained, "so those don't quite fit the situation. Bronze wouldn't look right on him, so we'll go with gold."

"Excellent, Ana," the King commended as the shop owner reentered the room from the back of the building.

"Here we are, son," the man said as he handed Riddle a light blue jacket. "Try this." Riddle slipped off his red uniform coat and put on the one he was just handed. He found it to be much stiffer in the collar and shoulders as he buttoned the silver fastenings.

"I say," the King commented, "I rather favor those fastenings. What do you say, Ana?"

"Silver and gold? I suppose that's as good as any. Gold on gold would be too much," she administered, wondering when she had become a fashion consultant.

"Yes, it would. Bronze wouldn't work yet again. So silver it is. In fact... now that I think about it, those were the colors of my own suit when the Queen and I wed."

"Is that what you desire then, your majesties?" the clerk inquired. "Golden fabric and sterling silver buttons?" The King nodded and the clerk continued, "What of the trousers?"

"Navy would be just fine," Tom mumbled, not wanting to wear any other color unless it were black, but as the King said, he had only four hues to choose from.

"Very well, sire," the man from the shop nodded. "I shall set to work on the uniform tonight and have my son and daughter deliver it to the castle in four days at the latest."

"Marvelous!" the King boomed happily. "Ana. Aramis. Come. Let's return home and see what news the Duke has for us. I left him to attend to this week's festivities." With that, the King exited the shop, Tom and Hermione in tow as they made their way back up to the castle.

By dinner time that night, things were beginning to look like a circus had arrived. Banners with the royal crest and colors hung upon every lamppost in town as well as the castle walls. Traveling bands of performers from nearby country villages had arrived and taken up residency in the town taverns and inns. Men stood blowing fire, swallowing swords, and juggling various fruits just outside the castle walls. Hermione had found it somewhat entertaining when they had first arrived earlier that day. She had stood in the garden of the castle grounds with Mary and Janessa to watch them preform, but now the hustle and bustle of those in the castle was too much for her. There seemed to be nowhere to go to get away from the noise. At every turn, someone was either cleaning tapestries, polishing wooden furniture, making plans with the King or Duke Rodden, or just rushing past to be in some other place.

Hermione huffed as she sat at dinner alone, her forehead resting on her right fist as she stared at her almost empty plate. The door to the dining hall opened and in stepped Tom who looked just as tired as she. He took a seat in one of the three remaining spaces and began piling food onto his plate. Neither spoke, for neither had the energy, and both were grateful for the silence they had finally found. The only sound that filled the room was the distant clink and clank of pots and pans from the kitchen and the sound of cutlery on a plate as Tom tucked into his food. He frowned as he chewed the meat. The food had gone cold and slightly dry in the time that it had sat upon the table.

"Where's the King?" Hermione questioned.

"Last I saw him, he was talking to some dirty-looking gypsy about a parade that's to happen two days before the actual wedding," Tom replied. She shook her head in part disgusted disbelief.

"This man is going to exhaust his family's fortune on a wedding for us, and I'm not even really his daughter," she whispered guiltily.

"That reminds me," Riddle stated as he finished chewing some cold cooked carrots. "I was thinking earlier today about something while we were discussing leaving here for Bluffshire." She nodded and sat back in her chair, looking at him with an expression that prompted his continuation of explaining that thought. "What if the real Aramis and Anastasia return?" he cued. "We've thought about it before, but we never really covered what we would do if they did. What if they, meaning the King and the others, discover us to be the fakes. It'll be pretty hard to work on getting back to the future from a jail cell or with a noose around our necks." He was right, and she knew it. They had to figure something out, and they needed to do so quickly. "I say we leave for Bluffshire in three nights."

"Why three nights? Should we really test that time? I mean, we're lucky that they haven't returned yet," Hermione pointed out.

"Because in three nights, the celebration will be under way with such force and rush, that it will be practically impossible for them to track us down immediately. It'll give us time to run, and it will make running easier. With all those people, we can slip out of town with hardly any trouble at all," Riddle justified.

Hermione half-heartedly nodded her agreement as she went back to staring at her plate from her slouched position in her seat. Things had become so amazingly chaotic that she was thankful once again that she wasn't in this time alone. What she was even more grateful for was the fact that Tom was so brilliant at times. She took to staring at him from the corner of her eye as he picked at some food on his plate. The longer she watched him, the more attached she felt herself getting. It was definitely posing a potential problem.

"I'm going up to bed," she finally sighed. "Who knows what they'll want us to do tomorrow."

"Watch and possibly judge an archery and fencing competition," Riddle muttered.

"For Merlin's sake," Hermione grumbled as she stood and threw her hands up before letting them fall to her sides. She left the room feeling more homesick than ever before.

With a dress that was far too uncomfortable for the heat of the early morning, and an annoyance at being woken at sunrise, Hermione sat on a raised stage in a meadow behind the castle near the stables. An archery field and fencing area had been set up, and a stage had been adorned with banners. Upon that stage with Hermione were Tom, Rodden, and the King. Below the stage, on a row of chairs in front of the wooden contraption, sat Mary, Janessa, Mima, Arthos, and Johnalin, who Hermione hadn't seen much of lately.

A trumpeter sounded from the center of the field, drawing attention from the crowds and the stage to himself. Not lending the announcer his concentration, Riddle looked around in mild boredom. That's when he spotted something that alarmed him slightly. Squinting, he focused on the hedges of the castle. Something was shining brightly in the sun as it stuck out of them. And if he didn't know any better, he would say that it was a gun. Glancing to Hermione, he saw that she was trying to politely give her undivided attention to the trumpeter who was now bellowing loudly the rules and participants of the archery contest. Rising slowly, Tom caught her attention. At first, she let her gaze dart to the corner of her eye to watch him, but then she fully turned her head to watch him as he snapped his fingers to get the attention of one of the guards around the stage. But it would appear that he was far too late as the ear-splitting sound of a gun broke the air and the announcer's speech.

Screams from the crowd followed, and Riddle did the first thing he could think of. He grabbed Hermione, pushed her to the floor, and tried to cover her with his own body as he watched frantically. The Duke shoved the King to the floor, both unharmed as people began scrambling for the safety of the back of the stage or running towards the stables and the woods. Another shot was fired as the guards took off for the castle, Tom directing them that whoever it was had been in the hedges. Straining his eyes to see through the panicked crowd, Riddle saw something that angered him more than anything. It was the General, and he was now mounted onto one of the castle's horses. He fired his gun into the air and then again at a guard, taking the man out. Laughing manically, he shouted to the King.

"A daughter for a son! Not quite a fair trade, but you took my only child, so I'm taking yours!" Mardon fired again at the stage, putting a hole in one of the banners that hung around them. Tom sat up as soldiers on horseback came riding towards the General who willed his horse into a fast gallop for the forest.

Pulling Hermione into a sitting position, Riddle saw fear etched across her face and terror in every recess of her chocolate eyes. Following her stare, he feared for her as well. The chair that she had been sitting upon had a hole larger than his fist in the exact spot where her head had been. Drawing her close, he squeezed her tightly and gently caressed her back as she shook and became void of color. If Mardon wanted to play this game, Tom would as well.

"Arthos," he spoke steadily and heatedly. "Bring two horses and two firearms down here quickly as you possibly can before the chase for Mardon gets too much farther away."