A/N: Real quick few thank-you's, and we'll get on with the chapter. Thanks to: Gueneviere, Emerald-Eyed Phoenix, DeceptiveFates, Alana84, Hater-of-heartless-critics, fatcakes, marauder'sbabe, Charming-Lynn, The daughter of Slytherin, Seed-of-Flame, nehimasgift, and AppaAndMomoForever.

Chapter 37 – Rodmilla's Wedding Gift

Hermione paced the sun room, her worry starting to make her go stir crazy as she felt like a prisoner from whom they were keeping information. What was taking Tom so long? Was he all right? Had they caught the General? Thoughts bounced about in her head a million at a time, all buzzing hundreds of miles a minute. She started to feel sick at her stomach from all the worry and not knowing. Her head throbbed and felt as though it were spinning. She leaned against the piano in the room for a moment before taking a seat on the bench before it. Hermione stared at the white and black keys. Something flickered on them; something orange. She looked around and noticed that it was light cast from outside. Jumping up, she ran to the window, but couldn't see much as rain washed down the window pane in thick, unbroken sheets of water. Grabbing at the folds of her skirt, she picked up the hem off the floor and took to running. She burst out into the corridor, the echo of her feet on the floor barely more than the sound of a pin drop as she rushed along with them hardly touching the marble. She reached the door, wrenched it open and saw the source of the light.

Her heart sank. It was nothing more than a servant of the castle, dressed in clothes much too big for him that was meant to keep out the downpour. He had a small torch on a long handle, and he was standing under a beaten, patched umbrella. He looked up to Hermione, nodded deeply, and went about lighting the lanterns outside. Sighing heavily, she made to turn, but stopped. Her ears pricked at the sound of something. Eyes wide and searching the outside, she watched the gate to the castle open. Her breath caught in her throat as horses with soaked, uniformed riders came into view. She walked to the edge of the first step, the toes of her shoes getting soaked instantly as she stood there looking on mindlessly, waiting on some sign of good. Was Tom with them?

Three young boys, more servants of the castle, came running past Hermione and out went splashing out into the rain as soldiers began dismounting from their steeds. The boys grabbed two horses each and began taking them to the stables out back of the castle as the soldiers headed for their quarters just off the castle grounds. But where was Tom?

Hermione stepped down to the next step, the rain beginning to drench the front of her dress and her face as she looked carefully at each soldier who passed. She knew none of them. Arthos wasn't even among them. Where were they? She felt a constricting feeling growing in her chest, pushing a lump up into her throat that almost choked her. Refusing to give up, she returned her attention back to the gate, and as she did, her eyes spotted something. Among the legs of the horses were six legs of men. Could one of them be Tom? She soon got her answer when a stable boy pulled two horses away, clearing her view to the men. One was Arthos, another a soldier she didn't know, and the last, much to her relief, was Riddle. Before she knew it, she was splashing through the puddles, mud splattering her dress as she raced towards him.

He turned just in time to catch her as she threw herself at him. She buried her face in his neck after wrapping her arms around it. He was a bit taken aback by her sudden appearance and attack of him, but his surprise melted quickly away to confusion as he felt her hot tears rolling down his neck and soaking, if at all possible, into his wet uniform jacket.

"What's that matter?" he half yelled so she could hear him through the rain and her sobs as he pried her away from him enough to look her in the eye. However, she didn't answer him the way he expected her to. Instead, she pressed her lips firmly, almost forceful enough to leave a bruise, against his. Keeping one arm fast around his neck, she let her other hand wander up to the back of his head and tangle her fingers into his sopping, jet black hair.

She lost track of everything in that moment. Forgetting that Arthos and the other soldier were still standing there a little awkwardly. Not caring that the rain was freezing and saturating her clothing, hair, and skin. And not giving any concentration to the fact that they hadn't established where Mardon was. All that mattered to her was that he was back because she had realized, while sitting in the sun room and awaiting his return, that he was all she had. She vowed then that she wouldn't let him go. Ever.

Slowly, sensation started to return to her. First was the realization that she was shivering. Then came the recognition of a weakness in her knees. It was after that that she felt Tom's arms had snaked around her lower back in support, and his lips were still brushing against hers in a gentler, but still tender and passionate kiss. Rain was rolling down her face like tiny fingertips tracing every curve and feature of her structure. Her dress had become heavier and hung uncomfortably on her as it stuck in places when she moved or where Tom touched her.

He pulled away and pushed back some strands of hair from her face. She smiled, blinking the rain droplets from her eyelashes. She had never thought he would be capable of showing his affections for her so openly where anyone could see let alone show affection toward her at all.

"We had better get inside," he spoke loudly over the falling rain and thunder. She nodded and held out her hand, waiting for him to take it into his own. He did just that, lacing her fingers into his and leading her back into the castle.

"Ana!" the King aspirated as he came to a halt in the entrance hall and saw Hermione who was soaked to the bone. "Get her a towel," he instructed one of the maids who gave a quick, curt nod and rushed off. "Well? Where is he?" the King continued as he looked to Tom now.

"Dead, sir," Riddle replied in a serious, stern fashion. Hermione's gaze shot to the young man next to her. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye to see her eyes were large and questioning. "I fought him," Tom proceeded. "He fell over Siren Hollow Cliffs to his death."

"He was quite gallant," spoke up Arthos from behind them. He offered a nod to the King and Hermione and looked to Tom. "He fought bravely, and in the end, the better man won."

Hermione threw her arms around Riddle, squeezing him tight. That's when she noticed the tear in the back of his jacket. Releasing him just as suddenly as she had embraced him, she made him turn around. Gasping, she clapped her hands over her mouth.

"You're wounded, son," the Duke informed needlessly as he and Mima entered the hall.

"Arthos!" the Austrian Princess breathed. "Are you well? You aren't wounded as well, are you?"

"No. Aramis was the only one who fought Mardon," he answered, giving her a sly wink afterwards.

The maid who had been sent by the King returned now, handing Hermione and Tom a towel each. She looked to Arthos apologetically, and he simply shook his head with a polite smile, declining her silent offer to go and fetch him a towel as well.

"Get Aramis to his quarters and see to it that those wounds are properly dressed," the King directed.

"Right away, your majesty," the woman responded, looking to Riddle to follow her.

Sticking with Tom, Hermione walked along beside him with her hand in his. She would be the one to see to it that the King's orders were rightly followed. With magic, she would heal him, or at least get as near to healing him as she could. They entered his room after the short walk down the hall, up the stairs, and down another hall. Hermione pulled up a chair next to the bed where Riddle had sat down to remove his boots.

"Don't. Let me," she demanded caringly. "You shouldn't stretch or strain your back until it's been attended to." Sighing defeatedly, for he knew not to put up a fight, Tom sat up straight as Hermione pulled his boot off.

"Just wait here, and I'll go get the nurse," the woman who had led them to the room said while walking to the door. "Would you like me to send for your ladies in waiting, Princess? You really should get out of those cold, wet clothes and into a warm bath."

"I'll be fine for now," Hermione answered while putting Tom's boots aside. "I'd like to wait here with Aramis."

"I'll still fetch them. We're going to prepare a bath for Aramis as well, so you might as well have one too," the maid informed before leaving.

Hermione sighed and shook her head. She wasn't a child. Her body could handle a little bit of rain. She shrugged it off and pushed the thought from her mind though as she turned to Riddle and began inquiring about Mardon.

"What happened? You have to tell me everything."

"Everything?" Tom repeated with a smirk. His manner was cocky, and she knew right away that this retelling of the story, even if it was the truth, would feed his already over-sized ego.

"Yes, everything," she mumbled in exasperation.

"Well," Riddle exhaled, dawning an expression that said he was recalling the event in great detail. "After I chased down Mardon and those fools who were doing no good at capturing or stopping him, we began dueling at the cliffs." Hermione listened intently, although she thought that it was indeed convenient how he had left out that Arthos had also chased down the General. Not to mention how he made it sound as though he were the heroed white knight of the tale. "He only thought that he had had me," Tom continued as he told about his 'brief' moment of weakness. "But I managed to battle my way back up and push him to the edge of the cliff. Just as he was about to strike, I put on such a show of force and magnitude that the mere blow was enough to knock him off his feet and over the cliff."

"Even though your retelling of things might have been a bit exaggerated, you're clearly the hero here," Hermione chortled softly after a moment's pause followed his story.

"It wasn't exaggerated!" Riddle snapped.

"Fine," she sighed, still with a hint of amusement in her tone. "But it's an odd thought though, isn't it?"

"What?"

"You. The hero."

"Why is that such an odd thought?" Tom grouched.

"Well, just think about it. You're the hero. The good guy now. A bit ironic, don't you think? I mean, in the future, you were the evil of our reality," Hermione pointed out.

"What's your point, Granger?" he barked. "I could just as easily be the evil here as well. I just find it easier to rise to power this way. And besides... I couldn't very well have Mardon around looking more powerful or dark than I, now could I?"

"Whatever you say," she breathed half-distractedly. "I just wonder if we can get back to concentrating on returning to the future after this wedding."

"Probably," Tom said as he stood and began removing his jacket. He grunted in momentary pain as the skin of his back stretched and the muscles moved.

"Let me help you," she volunteered, rising from her chair and grabbing the collar of his jacket. She pulled it carefully from his arms and back, watching the side of his face as it scrunched in discomfort. Hermione grimaced when the jacket was fully removed. More than half of the back of the white undershirt he wore was stained a deep crimson from his blood. "You'll have to take that off, too," Hermione apprised as she tossed the ruined, dripping coat aside. Reaching out, she grabbed the sides of his shirt, just above his hips and pulled, untucking the garment. The corners of her mouth turned even further downward as the skin of his back became exposed. She stood staring at the gash that ran across his once flawless skin while he pulled the shirt the rest of the way over his head. He threw it aside and tried to look over each shoulder to see the mark, but couldn't quite maneuver far enough.

"Is it bad?" he asked.

"I'm sure that once it's been cleaned and bandaged and had time to heal, it'll look fine," Hermione replied as she watched fresh blood from the huge cut trickle slowly down his back next to the dip where his spine was. "You should probably sit back down. You've more than likely lost a good deal of blood," she administered.

"I feel all right though," he shrugged. "I think the rain kept it pretty well flushed, and the jacket stuck in one place most of the time that we were riding back, so that acted as a makeshift bandage."

"All the same," she muttered, "I'd prefer if you would sit and rest until they come to get you for your bath. There's no sense in testing your endurance after something like that."

"I thought you said that I exaggerated?" Tom teased as he turned to face her.

"You-," she began to retaliate, but saw another cut on his forearm and abdomen. "You've got more wounds than we thought."

"Like I said, I'm well enough," he replied as though he were uncaring of his minor scrapes.

"No one - I don't care who they are - could be as well as you say you are," she hissed, getting a little upset with his tough facade.

"I'm not one of those stupid Muggles, Hermione," Riddle reminded. She opened her mouth to protest, but stopped as she caught a hint of hidden meaning in his statement.

"Did you use magic in front of those soldiers and Arthos?" she inquired wildly through gritted teeth. She knew all too well the soldiers, Arthos especially, wouldn't have left him alone while he was wounded, so if he had used magic, then it would have had to of been in front of them.

"It was only a small charm to slow the bleeding," he answered as though it weren't a big deal.

"Tom!" she snarled.

"What?" he exclaimed in irritation. "I was slouched over while we were riding through the forest, and they didn't see me."

"How do you know?" she questioned, worrying about their exposure, or mainly his. If they knew, they only knew about Tom, which brought her to her next thought. Would he reveal her to be a witch? But she quickly pushed those ponderings from her mind and proceeded to interrogate him. "Did you use magic at any other time?" He was about to answer when she interrupted. "I bet you used it during the fight against Mardon!"

"I did not!" Riddle barked, insulted by her assumption that he couldn't take Mardon one-on-one without using wizardry. "I only used it for that spell. Besides, you're one to talk. You used it in that open field in broad daylight during the duel."

"You should be thankful that I did," Hermione retorted.

"Don't try and change the subject," he argued. "At least when I used magic we were in the forest at night so that it was plenty dark enough, and I was slouched over to boot!"

"Oh! Whatever, then!" she huffed, stepping around him and heading for the door. She knew she had been defeated there.

"Where are you going?" he asked suddenly.

"To change and get a bath," she responded without looking back as she opened the door and stalked out into the corridor. Hermione was halfway to her room when she met up with Mary and Janessa, both of whom were looking for her.

"There you are. Where've you been?" Mary wondered aloud.

"We had a bath ready for you earlier, but when we went back to get you, you weren't there," Janessa explained. "And we searched all over for you after that."

"I had went to the library to get a book and then down to the kitchens to get something to eat. I was hungry from not eating all my dinner," Hermione murmured simply.

"We didn't look there," Janessa muttered more to herself than anyone else.

"Come along, then," Mary beckoned, "before your bath water gets cold."

Halfway through the week, on the third day of the festivities, Hermione had already been to numerous contests of strength, games, and performances by the carnival goers. She had congratulated more winners than she could remember and been invited to more people's house in congratulations of her own on her wedding than she ever thought possible. Each one had been declined though, and the winner and their family ate dinner at the castle each night. By the end of the third day, Hermione was laying in bed, her stomach packed to the bursting point with food and dreading anymore contests of any sort that might have a congratulatory dinner afterwards. Just then, there was a knock at her door and in stepped Mary.

"Pardon me, Princess-"

"Ana, Mary. Ana," Hermione corrected with a sigh as she rolled onto her side in the bed and looked at the maid with a kind, but tired eye.

"Ana," she repeated with a curt nod. "Duchess Rodmilla has sent for you."

"The Duchess is here?" Hermione questioned, her brow furrowed. "It's awful late, isn't it?"

"She only just arrived a few moments ago," Mary replied. "She asked that you meet her in her room." With that said, Mary bowed her head to which Hermione shook her own in silently amused disapproval. Those ladies in waiting would never learn to treat her as a friend instead of the person who was soon-to-be queen.

Once Mary had left the room, Hermione slid off the bed and left for the Duchess's quarters, which were across the hall from the Duke's. Hermione knocked and heard a polite call telling her to enter. She opened the door, peaked in, and spotted the Duchess sitting at a vanity while a maid unpacked Rodmilla's things.

"Come in, Ana, love," the older woman beckoned. "Elaina, leave us for a moment." The maid curtsied and moved swiftly from the room as Hermione entered fully. The door was shut behind her, and the two dogs that belong to the Duchess sat up on the bed in interest as their master rose from her seat. "I've something to give you before tomorrow's bridal party. I only hope that you haven't gotten one already, and if you haven't, I pray that you'll honor me by doing me the favor of wearing it," Rodmilla explained as she walked over to a separate, smaller trunk in the corner of the room. "Sit down."

Hermione took the Duchess's vacant seat and watched as the older woman pulled the trunk towards them. Shutting the case that the maid had been unpacking, Rodmilla sat upon it and pulled the smaller luggage between them.

"Now," she began as she unhooked the latches on the lid, "this was to be kept for my own daughter or daughter-in-law had I ever had children. But since I didn't, I figured that you were so like a daughter to me that I should pass it on to you, and I pray that you'll do the same."

By now, Hermione was very curious as to what laid within the piece of luggage. She sat up straight, trying to see over the lid as the Duchess lifted it gently with her fingertips at each corner. Rodmilla smiled, a glimmer in her eye as the Gryffindor Head Girl craned her neck to see what the older woman was reaching into the case for. Hermione's breath caught in her throat as she saw what was being pulled from the depths of the luggage. A long, off-white gown with intricate beading hung in Rodmilla's hands. The great amounts of crinoline made the skirt stand on its own and there was a finely designed lace covering the silken material of the dress.

Hermione stood slowly, never taking her eyes off the dress as they filled with tears. She opened her mouth to comment on the lovely garment with its complex, golden, beaded stitches that covered the train of it, but found her speech halted. She was moved by such a gracious, generous gift with such meaning.

"I had hoped you'd like it," Rodmilla whispered with teary eyes of her own.

"How can I turn away such a lovely dress and such a magnanimous gift?" Hermione spoke softly, trying to steady her voice as she expressed her gratitude.

"You don't have to."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Hermione added as she lifted a sleeve in her hand and ran her thumb over the lace and beading.

The dress smelled faintly of wine and a fading perfume which reminded Hermione of wild flowers and springtime. It was a sweet scent, warming and inviting.

"There's a tiara and some jewelry that I've brought with me as well. My grandmother wore them in her own wedding and gave them to me to wear as well. I hope you'll except those, too," the Duchess offered as she laid the wedding gown lightly across the end of her bed.

"I'd love to," Hermione choked out as the Duchess continued to pull gifts from the trunk while the younger of the two continued her examination of the garment.

Hermione sighed contentedly. She thought of what was to come; the wedding she would take part in. A faint smile danced on her face as the Duchess stood next to her, watching Hermione admire the off-white dress. Soon, she would marry Tom, and strangely, she felt excitement in that. Had her dreams of the perfect white wedding with Ron really been replaced by visions of the reality that was to come? Was this what she was meant to have? 'I suppose things don't always come out the way you plan.'

"Wake up, sleepy head!" Mima laughed as she bounced up and down on Hermione's bed. "Rise and shine! It's after nine in the morning, and if you don't get up, you're going to miss your own bridal party!" Hermione groaned and rolled over, squinting through the bright sunlight that filled her room to focus on the ecstatic girl next to her.

"Bridal party?" Hermione repeated groggily. "What bridal party?"

"The Duchess arranged for her cousins and nieces from Paris to come. My mother is here with a friend of mine from back home. Your ladies in waiting will be there as well as a few other prominent women," Mima answered.

"And who put this together, might I ask?"

"The Duchess. I helped a little," Hermione's companion supplied.

"You're too kind... really," Hermione grumbled before rolling over and burying her head in her pillow. She really just wanted to sleep, but she was soon dragged from the bed and made to dress by Mary and Janessa. After an unnecessary blindfolding, Hermione was led down to the main floor and out to the garden. With some difficulty, she was seated, and worry began to set in as she heard whispering around her. "This really isn't necessary," Hermione informed concernedly as she felt someone removing her blindfold. However, she kept her eyes shut, almost afraid to open them and see what they had in store for her.

"Open your eyes, Ana," Rodmilla advised excitedly.

Hermione fought back the urge to grimace as she kept them closed. She just didn't want to look. 'No sense prolonging my suffering.' With that thought, she slowly opened her eyes to a squint. Everything was blurry to her, so she opened one eye fully and was surprised by what was before her. She was seated at the head of a long table which was laden in cakes, teapots, vases of flowers, and quaint little place settings for each guest. Hermione stared at her plate for a moment as it gleamed in the early morning sunlight before glancing up to the Duchess who was standing next to her.

"You really didn't have to do this," the younger woman administered.

"But I did, dear," Rodmilla whispered while patting her on the shoulder. "Well, ladies, take your seats. Oh! Ana, this is my niece, Florence." Hermione nodded and smiled as the girl inclined her head and sat down a seat away at Hermione's right. "Florence has so kindly offered to assist with your hair for the wedding," the Duchess explained as she took the seat next to Hermione on the right. "She's just come in from Paris and knows a great deal about the latest fashions there." Hermione had a feeling as she glanced down the table at the chattering women that this was going to be a very long day.