A/N: Usual disclaimers. JK's toys. I'm just playing a little.
Four o'clock on a Saturday afternoon at the oldest, most exclusive wizarding event venue in Britain, and the nuptials of the season were just getting underway. It was a November wedding with everything done tastefully in forest green, gold and cream. 650 witches and wizards sat patiently, speculating in whispers about the odds of the bride regaining her senses and canceling. A tall, lanky ginger on the bride's side of the room was quietly taking bets and pocketing Galleons.
Draco Malfoy looked up the aisle at his lovely soon-to-be-wife. Potter was escorting her past the seated masses, only the slightest grimace of distaste as he performed the task.
Distantly, the Slytherin wondered just what threat Hermione employed to achieve that. He started as he realized her whiskey eyes were shining straight at him, a tiny smile playing about her lips. Potter handed her off to her fiancé, leaning close as he gave Malfoy a saccharine smile.
"I swear, Malfoy- one mistake, and you'll feel like Buckbeak and Grawp took you at the same time."
Ah, Potter. Classy as always.
"And I swear, Harry, that if you do anything to muck up this day for us, you'll wish that was all you felt."
The-Boy-Who-Lived-To-Annoy gulped at his best friend's response and hurried to his seat. Hermione beamed sweetly, and Draco snickered as they turned to face Kingsley Shacklebolt.
The Minister for Magic was in fine form as he cast Sonorus and began his speech. "We are gathered here today to witness the joining of a most…unique couple-"
"Nice way of saying 'match made in Hades," Lucius Malfoy murmured pleasantly from the groom's section. Narcissa elbowed him. He shrugged, unrepentant, as she smiled apologetically toward the altar.
Shacklebolt shot the Pureblood an old-fashioned look, and gamely continued over the resulting chuckles. Things were going quite well until they reached the vows:
"Do you, Draco Lucius Malfoy, take Hermione Jean Granger to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold, to protect and to cherish, in sickness and in health, as long as you both shall live?"
Draco looked deeply into his beloved's trusting eyes. "I, Draco Lucius Malfoy, take Hermione Jean Granger at any and every opportunity, in all locales, with no sense of shame, and she loves it, no matter what she says now."
Hermione gasped in outraged embarrassment as the room erupted in laughter. "DRACO MALFOY!"
"Sorry, Darling. It was a bet with Zabini; the proceeds are earmarked for your favorite charity."
The aforementioned beloved had her face hidden in her palm, and for a moment he worried she was contemplating the wisdom of her choice. He gently removed her hand and tilted her chin up to face him.
"I, Draco Lucius Malfoy, take Hermione Jean Granger in whatever way she'll have me, for as long as she'll tolerate me, with the promise that she'll Avada my arse if she leaves, as any existence without her would be cursed."
"You ever pull a stunt like this again and you won't need to worry about me leaving you to Avada you, Draco."
"I'll match the proceeds?"
"You'll triple it, and apologize at the reception. Now kiss me, idiot."
Kingsley broke in: "I believe that is my line, Hermione."
"Fine, tell the idiot to kiss me, then."