A/N: Still don't know the HP series. That belongs to JKR.
Still sending virtual gifts to my wonderful beta, shealone! If you haven't read her stuff, you really should.
Thank you, thank you, thank you to all my reviewers, followers, and favorites! Your support keeps me plugging along at this. :)
Ch. 10
Saturday Morning
Hermione's Room
"Would you just hold still?" Daphne said, sounding exasperated.
"That hurts! You hold still while someone is pulling out all your eyebrows!" Hermione rubbed her offended brow.
"If you keep that up, I'm going to accidentally take too much off, and then we'll have to enchant them all to grow back and start all over again!" Hermione looked positively terrified at Daphne's threat.
Draco stood in the doorway, amazed. Daphne and Hermione were in a battle of the wills and Daphne appeared to be holding her own, if not winning.
"Ahem," he cleared his throat. Both witches looked around. "Can I have a discussion with my fiancé? Alone, please?" Draco addressed them.
"Drake, we are on a time crunch here. I've only got an hour and a half to get her ready."
"We will be quick, Daphne." Hermione stood. "Draco can come get you when we are done talking."
"Well, alright. I'll give you fifteen minutes. And get dressed — your first outfit is on the bed. Drake, you need something more casual for the first pictures," Daphne said, pointing a slender finger at him and gesturing to his current state of dress.
Draco looked down at his black suit with black shirt and tie. "What's wrong this?"
Hermione snickered at him. "Nothing, if you want to go with the undertaker chic look."
"What the hell is an undertaker?" He asked, narrowing his eyes. "Nevermind. Hermione, can we talk for just a minute?"
"I'm going to pull your clothes, Drake. Yell when you are done." Daphne made for his room. "This connecting door is really convenient. Has it always been here?"
Draco and Hermione shook their heads. "It appeared the night of the Marriage Sorting," he offered.
"Huh," Daphne mused. "I wonder if Blaise and Parvati have one."
"No. Their rooms aren't next to each other, but Padma and Terry have one." Hermione shrugged.
"Very well, I'll see you in a few. And hurry up!" Daphne went to raid Draco's closet for the best clothes for the day. He had impeccable taste, but his clothes were always so formal. They needed something more approachable this morning. Formal would be good for the press conference and photos later that afternoon. Maybe he had at least one pair of khakis. Or jeans. Maybe.
"Hermione." Draco stopped. Sweet Salazar. He hated feeling like a freaking Hufflepuff. "I meant what I said last night about not living in the Manor, and I'm sorry for trying to make you give up Potter and Weasley. I knew it wouldn't work, but I was just so pissed at my father and, anyway, it was a bad time."
"I understand, Draco. There is really nothing to forgive. I think I just needed to yell at you about last spring, 'lance the wound' if that makes sense. And you apologized; you apologized for something that wasn't really your fault, but something I blamed you for. I'm sorry for holding that over your head. So, can you forgive me?"
Draco nodded. "But you don't have anything to be sorry for because I blame myself."
"So we're good?" Hermione asked.
"Yes, we're good. I'll get Daphne before she completely destroys my wardrobe."
8th Common Room
9:30am
'The Publicity Group', as they called themselves, discussed the plan for the day. Daphne, predictably, led the discussion. "Right, here's our schedule. At 10:00 a.m., four teams of photographers wills will meet us in the Great Hall. We will have a photograph session with them until noon. Lunch will be served afterward. Then we will sit for formal photographs at 2:00 p.m. The press conference is scheduled for 4:00 p.m. We should expect to be there until 5:00 p.m. Any questions so far?"
"Is Rita Skeeter cleared to be here?" Hermione asked after the vicious society reporter who savaged her reputation during fourth year.
"Unfortunately, yes. But I think she knows that she is to be on her best behavior, if what the Minister said is accurate." Daphne answered. "Anyone else? No? Excellent. We'll all meet for lunch, and then we can have dinner tonight at six. Do we want to go into Hogsmeade or have dinner here? I have a list of things to discuss, especially with you ladies."
"Let's decide that afterward," Tracey suggested. "I can imagine it going either way." Her dry tone elicited a laugh from her peers.
"Are we ready? Let's go." Daphne led the charge to the Great Hall with Harry holding her arm.
Minutes Later
The Great Hall
As they awaited the photographers in the nearly empty Great Hall — it being the first Hogsmeade weekend for the school — the couples took the opportunity for more private chats with one another.
Hermione smirked at Draco. "I must say, Mr. Malfoy, that you definitely don't have the undertaker chic vibe in that ensemble."
"I still don't know what the bleeding hell an undertaker is, but this get-up is definitely not my style." He looked down with some trepidation at the brown leather bomber jacket, dark green sweater over a gray t-shirt, and Muggle jeans. He tugged at the neck of the sweater. "Does this look alright? Daphne transfigured my favorite jacket into this," he said, plucking at the sleeve of the jacket, "and my most comfortable slacks into these denim trousers."
Hermione gave him an appreciative once over. "It's a good look. I like it."
"Oh do you, Miss Granger? Why don't you tell me how much you like it?" He reached out and caught her left hand in his and began playing with her ring.
"Well, it's a nice change from your usual black. The green looks surprisingly good with your pale complexion, the jeans do, umm, really nice things for your, ahh, bum, and it really gives you a more casual, approachable air."
"Does it now?" Draco placed a soft kiss on the inside of her wrist. "If you like it, I may have to get some more of these . . . what did you call them? Jeans?" He stared into her eyes; leaning forward their lips met in a brief, but sincere kiss. "And might I say you are looking rather fetching in those jeans as well? If you had worn them more often before, I might have ignored my father's displeasure sooner." His playful tone made Hermione's heart melt, just a little bit more.
When she glanced around, she could see Daphne's efficient hand in each couple. They all wore casual and comfortable clothes, all well put together, and they would photograph well.
Just then, a tall, gangly man with a camera in hand approached them, with his three companions heading to each of the couples. "Hullo! I'm Nigel Shanford, and I'll be taking your portraits today," he said, introducing himself. "Hope you don't mind, I got some quick pictures just a few minutes ago of you two talking. I think they are going to turn out right nice," he yammered, not even pausing for a breath, "So, looking around, let's get some more pictures in here, then we can head out to the lake. Maybe go up to the Astronomy Tower." He turned to look at Draco. "I hear you are a Quidditch player. How about the Pitch?" He asked, not giving time for a reply. "Well, let's get going then, no time to waste!"
Hermione struggled to get a word in edgewise. "Wait! Quidditch!"
Draco was startled. What was she on about? Hermione wasn't a big Quidditch fan.
Nigel turned. "Yes?"
"All of them," Hermione said, pointing at the wizards, "are Quidditch players."
"Right you are!" Nigel grinned. "You just gave me a great idea. Oi! Sheila, Fabian, Lucian, all these blokes are Quidditch players. We can get some shots on the brooms from the stands." The photographers all met and chattered about a group shot, centered on Quidditch theme.
"You realize you've created a monster, right?" Draco looked Hermione. "You should go ahead and accept that you are going to be on a broom with me today."
"Wait, what?" Her eyes widened in shock. "No. I just —"
"Get over it, Granger." Draco grinned. "You are going to be flying with me today." He kissed her again, just enough to distract her.
"I hate brooms. I really hate brooms." Hermione sighed.
Just then, Nigel returned to them. "Right then, we are going to meet with everyone at eleven at the Quidditch pitch. Do you have your broom?"
Draco looked seriously affronted. "Of course I have my broom. What kind of question is that?"
"Excellent. Make sure you bring it with you to the pitch. I think we are going to get some great shots there. Right then, let's get started. I want you two," he said, pointing to Hermione and Draco, "to head over to that window over there. The light at the moment is coming in just right."
The next hour passed in a blur. "Tilt your head. No, no, your left hand, not your right. What are you doing? Okay, I need you to pick her up piggy back style." Draco balked at the last one until he realized just how close Hermione was to him. After that, he had no complaints. They never made it to the Astronomy Tower, but that wasn't Draco's favorite spot in the school, anyway.
Hermione's favorite moment was at the Black Lake under an oak tree, when, with his wand, Draco carved a heart and engraved their initials — D.M. + H.G — into the trunk. It warranted a spontaneous kiss that took Draco completely by surprise. Nigel, ever efficient, caught it all on camera.
Quidditch Pitch
11:00am
"Accio Firebolt!" Blaise summoned.
"Accio Nimbus 2001!" Draco held out a hand as his trusty broom flew into his grip. He had thought about replacing it numerous times during the last few years, but he liked the Nimbus model. Maybe next year.
With a crack, Dobby appeared holding Harry's Firebolt and Ron's Cleansweep.
"Alright, we're going to do some pictures here on the ground, first," Nigel told everyone. "Gentlemen, in a line, please. Excellent, excellent. Mr. Malfoy, right here, Mr. Zabini, right here, Mr. Potter on the other end. You two, hold your brooms like so, and you two on the opposite end, like this. Very good. Now, ladies, please go stand with your fiancés. Perfect. Put your arms around the ladies. Yes, yes, just like that." Nigel was in his element.
After he felt they had taken the best pictures possible on the ground, Nigel sent the witches into the stands and had the wizards mount their brooms. "Alright, just fly around a bit, nothing competitive."
He obviously didn't know the wizards with whom he was dealing. Before he could get his camera ready, they were zooming up and down the pitch, pushing their brooms and generally having fun trying to outperform each other. Harry flew upside down. Draco flew upside down and backward. Blaise did three barrel rolls in succession. Ron did four. And so it went.
The male photographers were thrilled, catching the antics, but Sheila had the presence of mind to watch the witches. She managed to catch an almost gasp and laugh from the girls on camera, and she was there when the wizards flew up to speak to their fiancés.
"Upside down, Harry? Really, was that necessary? You could have fallen off," Daphne scolded him and he just grinned in reply.
Parvati was not to be outdone. "What were you thinking, Blaise? You could get hurt flying that recklessly!"
"Have I mentioned how handsome you look on that broom, Ron?" Tracey batted her eyelashes at him. When he grinned down at her, he realized that he was done for. The Sorting Hat got it right for him. He didn't even bother trying to cover it up; he was a Gryffindor, not a Slytherin. Reaching out, he grabbed Tracey and hauled her aboard for a kiss. His lips on hers cut off her squeal of shock.
Sheila got it all on film.
Nigel arrived, panting from the hike up the stairs. "Alright, Mr. Weasley and Miss Davis have the right of it. Hop on, ladies. These wizards won't let you fall, right gentlemen?"
"Ahh, Nigel, I don't fly. Ever." Hermione sounded quite scared.
"It's true, she doesn't. I've tried taking her up and she hated it," Harry confirmed, easily supporting Daphne. Their photographer busily snapped away, his subjects completely unaware as they conversed with Nigel.
"She hated it with me, too." Ron agreed.
"Hermione, come here." Draco flew right to the edge, putting his foot on the stands to make certain he was steady and that the broom wouldn't so much as wobble with the addition of her weight.
As Draco spoke to Hermione, the remaining couples hovered in the air for the photographers.
"I'm not going to drop you, I promise. I'll keep my arms around you the whole time," Draco promised, coaxing the usually forthright and fearless Gryffindor onto his broom. When she finally sat down, her arms around his neck were just short of a chokehold. The effect, in Nigel's pictures, was that of an extremely close and affectionate couple, not that of a wizard flying a terrified witch on a broom.
"Hermione, I need you to loosen your hold. I can't really breathe." She relaxed her muscles just enough that Draco was able to take a deep breath.
"Draco, could you slow down just a little bit?"
"Hermione, we aren't really moving."
"Maybe get a little closer to the ground?"
"Alright, alright." He conceded. When he began a slow and steady descent, he asked,
"Better?"
"Umm, yeah."
Hermione gradually relaxed, but she never enjoyed the flight. Draco, however, enjoyed having Hermione sit on his lap, and her arms around him. There might be something to this whole tandem flight. After a few minutes, he took them down.
When they finally landed, Hermione clambered off, laid on the ground on her back, looking at the clear fall sky, with her arms outstretched. "Thank you, Godric!"
Draco laughed. It was a real laugh, one that the Gryffindors had rarely heard; Hermione loved the sound of it.
Lunchtime
The Great Hall
The eight of them sat at together and made plans for the afternoon.
"After lunch, everyone needs to change into their formal engagement photo fashions. We will come directly from the photo shoot back here for the press conference." Daphne consulted her schedule. "The Minister will speak first, and then open the floor for questions. I would like for us to stand in the back and look pretty, but we all know that's not going to happen. The conference is scheduled to end precisely at 5:00 p.m."
Just then, Professor McGonagall and the Minister for Magic approached their table.
"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. I trust you are having a good day?" McGonagall paused to greet them on her way out of the Great Hall.
Shacklebolt stayed to speak with the couples. After general pleasantries, he got down to business. "I assume you all saw the papers from earlier this week? The photos from Diagon Alley were good, and I think it may have whetted the public's appetite for more. The letters to the editor were very mixed, so you need to present a united front. Is that going to be a problem?" He looked directly at Ron, Harry, and Draco. At their negative headshakes, he continued, "Very good. Minerva told me that you have all settled on wedding dates, so we will announce those today. I must say, I think it is an excellent idea to have two of the ceremonies here. Is there anything that I need to address regarding your weddings at this point?"
Hermione shot Draco a questioning look. He shook his head in the negative. Now was not the time or the place. He'd bring in the Ministry only if he needed to so do. Besides, the letter he got this morning put another spin on things. He needed to think.
Hermione's Room
After Lunch
Hermione fidgeted with her engagement ring as she waited for Daphne, Tracey, and Parvati to join her. She was slowly getting used to wearing the beautiful piece, but she was still very aware of it on her hand. This whole notion of seeking attention was so completely foreign to her. Hell, the notion of marriage, to Draco Malfoy of all people, was completely foreign to her at this point in her life. She always thought that she'd get married when she was in her mid-twenties after she had established a career, then wait a few years to have a child.
She thought back to last night. Malfoy said that he had always liked her. She believed him and forgave him for the Manor incident, and now that she was getting to know him, she could read his emotions and reactions better. Where once she only saw the flat, emotionless façade, Hermione could now begin to see the flashes of feelings as they flitted through his eyes only to be subsumed once again. Maybe, as they got closer, they would learn to love each other.
"Hermione, let's get you freshened up." Parvati's voice was a welcome intrusion. "I love this dress, by the way. This grey will bring out the silver in Malfoy's eyes. And this coat is divine."
"Pity the shoes are death traps." Hermione lifted her foot to show Parvati her heels. She was toying with the idea of reducing the height and had reached for her wand when Parvati smacked her hand.
"Those shoes are positively fabulous, and if you so much as touch them with that wand, I will beat you senseless. Now get up." Parvati cast a Cushioning Charm. "Is that better?" Hermione nodded. "Now walk."
Hermione tottered about the room, almost falling off the heels. Parvati shook her head at the bad show. The walking lessons this week were not very successful. She waved her wand and muttered the Balancing Charm. "Now walk again." Hermione's totter became a walk without an ankle twist in sight. "Much better. Much, much better. Now, whatever you do, don't let anyone send a Finite in your direction."
Visions of stumbling and breaking her ankle flitted through Hermione's head.
When Daphne and Tracey joined them looking picture perfect, Hermione sighed. She was used to being the bookworm, even the tomboy since her best friends were males, but she felt a flash of envy at the seemingly effortless femininity of her companions. Tracey freshened Hermione's make-up, and Daphne smoothed her hair. She hated feeling like the one who needed the most help. She was supposed to be the capable one.
"Ladies, I've got positively huge news! Parvati said she wanted a custom dress, and I thought why not? We are only doing this once, after all, and the Ministry is footing the bill, so, I'm having Liliana come to fit us all here, tomorrow!" Daphne positively crowed. From Parvati and Tracey's reaction — squeals of delight and gasps of joy — Hermione determined that she was supposed to be impressed, so she smiled.
She could not, however, refrain from asking, "Who, exactly, is Liliana?"
Her three companions face vaulted.
"Hermione, you've got to get out more." Parvati just sounded disappointed. "She is only the most sought-after designer of evening and wedding gowns in Wizarding Britain."
Hermione's mouth formed an 'o' of surprise. Turning to Daphne, she asked, "Do you think she would also make our Yule Ball gowns?"
"Maybe. We'll see, but that would be fabulous, wouldn't it? I'll put it on the list. In the meantime, let's get this done, the boys are waiting for us in the common room by now."
When they arrived, true to form, Draco's face remained virtually expressionless, but Hermione saw a flash of . . . something . . . in his mercurial eyes.
When she reached his side, he held out his arm to escort her to the Great Hall. "You look beautiful this afternoon, love. That shade of pink is lovely with your complexion." The polished compliments were exactly as they should be. "But I must say, I'm most impressed by your ability to walk in those shoes." He glanced pointedly down to the three-inch heels in question. Even in the heels, he was still a solid four inches taller than she.
Ahh, there he was. The snarky one that Hermione knew so well. She stood on one foot and held the other in front of her. "Balancing and Cushioning Charms are wonderful things. And if someone sends a Finite in my direction, you need to be ready to catch me when I fall."
"Oh Hermione, I'll always catch you when you fall." There was a definite double entendre there.
She narrowed her eyes at him. "Are we ready then?" He asked and at her nod, they followed the other couples out of the room.
After a brief meeting in the Great Hall — which was already being set up for the press conference — the couples went their separate ways with their photographers. After some discussion, Draco and Hermione elected to have their formal portraits taken in the library.
All too soon, everyone met back in the Great Hall for the press conference.
Press Conference
The Great Hall
Arrayed along the dais were several chairs and a podium in the center. As they filed in, the chatter amongst the reporters died down and all eyes turned toward the couples. For all the Golden Trio nonsense that had surrounded Harry, Ron, and Hermione, none of them were particularly comfortable with all the media attention. Ron, before the year in the woods, seemed to be the most enamored of it, but a year on the run and all the attendant tragedy forced him to grow up. Now, like his best friends, he tried to avoid the spotlight whenever possible. The irony of this newest task — being the 'faces' of the Marriage Law — was not lost on the Golden Trio or their companions.
Kingsley took to the podium on the hour. "Good afternoon, and welcome. As you are all aware, the Wizengamot has passed a Marriage Law requiring witches and wizards of marriageable age to marry within the year and to begin having children before a two-year deadline. While the Wizengamot has been decried for taking such a draconian approach, the fact of the matter is that we felt as though we had no choice. Buried in our history, before the founding of this great institution," he said, his hand sweeping around, indicating Hogwarts, "our population numbers fell and a former Marriage Law was enacted, forcing all witches and wizards to marry. Given the time, marriageable age was fourteen."
An audible gasp sounded through the auditorium.
"For us, that is barbaric. But we are nearing the tipping point that would put this law, this curse, if you will, into place. After a consultation with numerous law experts, curse breakers, and historians, we have come to the regrettable conclusion that we cannot repeal or destroy this law. Instead, we are trying to circumvent this with our modern Marriage Law. The Wizengamot and the Ministry had not planned to release that information but, given the questions from the public, we decided it best to be frank with you all. Today, the future of Wizarding Britain sits before you. These fine young wizards and witches have willingly become the first to be matched and wed. You are, no doubt, familiar with some of them. We've used the Sorting Hat to sort the pairs and, even now, the Ministry is setting up appointments for witches and wizards across Britain to be read by the Sorting Hat and likewise matched. I would now like to introduce these remarkable young people to you."
"Mr. Harry Potter and his fiancé Miss Daphne Greengrass; Mr. Ronald Weasley and his fiancé Miss Tracey Davis; Mr. Draco Malfoy and his fiancé Miss Hermione Granger; and, finally, Mr. Blaise Zabini and his fiancé Miss Parvati Patil." Each couple stood in turn. "Now, I would like to open the floor for questions."
The first hand up was, predictably, Rita Skeeter. "Minister, I can't help but notice that all of these couples are from different Houses and different blood statuses. Do you actually mean to tell us the Sorting Hat put these couples together?" she asked suspiciously.
"Miss Skeeter, I was here for the Marriage Sorting Ceremony and I can assure you that when each of these ladies wore the Hat, the name of the gentleman that the Hat spoke is the name of the gentleman beside them. As to their Houses, I have no knowledge of why that happened. With regards to blood status, do you have a problem with purebloods marrying half-bloods or Muggle-borns?" Kingsley turned the question back to her.
Hermione had a feeling that this was not the last question from the vile beetle today.
"Is the Sorting Hat deliberately mixing blood status with these witches and wizards?" The question came from Daniel Flatterworth, a news reporter from the Prophet. Unlike Skeeter, he was not a society reporter.
Deciding to get the storm started and hopefully ended quickly, Kingsley explained, "Where possible, the Sorting Hat is taking blood status into account. We have found that it is mixing purebloods with those of a different blood status. Next question."
"How can you justify this action? It's positively medieval!"
Hermione rolled her eyes at Skeeter. Would that woman never shut up?
Shacklebolt was apparently at the end of his rope with her as well. "Would you rather fourteen-year-olds be forcibly married, Miss Skeeter? Would you prefer that we leave in place the generational hatred and prejudice that helped to cause the last two Wizarding wars which got us into this situation in the first place? Is that what you prefer?"
Skeeter actually appeared torn. As the reporter glanced over Shacklebolt's shoulder, she saw Hermione staring at her with narrowed eyes. "Um, ah, of course not, Minister, of course not," she stammered out.
"Are there any useful questions?" Shacklebolt looked around. He fielded several technical questions from a few reporters and then, finally, they turned their questions towards the weddings and eventually the couples.
Skeeter and the other society reporters took over the questions.
"When will the weddings be?" asked a redhead in the second row.
"Mr. Malfoy and Miss Granger will be married on Halloween, here at the castle; Mr. Zabini and Miss Patil will be getting married on the second Saturday of November in Kent; Mr. Weasley and Miss Davis will be married the first Saturday in December at his family home; and Mr. Potter and Miss Greengrass will be married here at Hogwarts on the Winter Solstice."
"Will the press be allowed at the weddings?" Rita Skeeter had a look of unholy glee on her face. Hermione turned to Draco and he met her eyes, shaking his head in the negative to her relief.
"That is a question for each individual couple, Miss Skeeter. But I am sure they will be happy to share photos with the press afterward."
"I have questions for Mr. Potter," Flatterworth interjected. Shacklebolt inclined his head and gave the floor to Harry and Daphne. They looked good together, a study in contrasts. He was tall with lean muscles, bright green eyes and perpetually messy black hair, standing next to the icy, elegant beauty that was Daphne, tall for a witch, with light golden blond hair and blue eyes.
"Mr. Potter, how do you feel about this law? Are you unhappy that you were not matched with Miss Granger? How do you feel about her being matched with a Death Eater? How do you feel about being forced to get married and have children so young? Shouldn't you be given some leeway to choose your own bride? After all, you have done so much for the Wizarding community."
Harry cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses. "First of all, I'd like to say, I'm utter rubbish at public speaking, but I'll try to answer all your questions." He chuckled nervously, clearly not at ease. "With regards to this law, I was shocked and unhappy to hear about it, but it is far preferable to the alternative. I was not surprised that I was not matched with Hermione. She and I have been friends for many years and we have never had any sort of romantic relationship," he insisted firmly, his eyes flickering to Skeeter. "I knew Daphne as a classmate, obviously, and since the Marriage Sorting Ceremony, we have been taking the time to really get to know one another. I'm very happy with her." He reached out for her hand and clasped it. "I hope I can make her happy."
They smiled at each other, and the cameras flashed.
"With regards to your last questions," Harry continued, "I'm no different than any other wizard. Why should I receive special treatment? I shouldn't. So, I will absolutely support the Ministry and the Wizengamot in this. I actually do trust that the Sorting Hat got it right with Daphne and I."
"And with regards your feelings about Mr. Malfoy, a known Death Eater, being paired with your best friend?" Flatterworth clearly did not know to stop when he was ahead.
Harry subtly narrowed his eyes. "I believe the phrase you are looking for is "former" Death Eater, Mr. Flatterworth. One who was coerced into that life as a child by forces beyond his control. I have every confidence that Mal— Draco is an excellent match for Hermione. I suggest you ask them about their relationship. Now, do you have a less absurd question for me?"
Behind him, Hermione pressed her lips together and, staring straight ahead, reached out to Draco, took his hand and squeezed it. After a moment, he returned the gesture.
"Just to be clear, Mr. Potter, you are completely happy with your match? Daphne, dear, how do you feel about being tied to such a . . . celebrity with close ties to Miss Granger?" Rita Skeeter asked before Harry could return to his seat.
Harry took a deep breath. "Miss Skeeter, my fiance is a lovely, accomplished, and intelligent witch. I have no reason in the world to be unhappy with her." Before he could say anything further, Daphne drew his attention, and he stepped back to let her speak.
"Miss Skeeter, I am very happy to be engaged to Harry. He is a truly lovely man and I know that he will be an amazing father. With regards to your illogical question about Miss Granger, I would simply say that she is a wonderful person, and I am very much enjoying getting to know her and helping to plan her wedding. Why would you ever think her friendship with Harry would be a problem for me?" A perfectly manicured eyebrow raised as she turned the tables on the reporter.
Hermione wondered if Slytherin House taught a class in sardonic facial expressions and sarcastic comments because all the Slytherins she knew seemed to excel at them.
As Harry and Daphne turned and resumed their seats, Kingsley moved to the podium. "Are there any other questions at this time?" He asked.
"Miss Granger! Miss Granger, how do you feel about the law? How do you feel about your pairing?" The question came from the redhead.
Hermione and Draco made their way to the podium. They made as striking a couple as Harry and Daphne had. Tall with pale skin, platinum blond hair and remarkable grey eyes, Draco was the picture of a pureblood aristocrat. Hermione, however, was just as noticeable with her tamed brown curls and intelligent brown eyes. Nothing about her indicated that she felt inferior due to her blood status, and Draco's actions showed nothing but respect for the witch at his side.
"Like Harry, I regret the necessity for the law, but I am perfectly happy with my pairing. Draco and I have been getting to know one another this year, and he and I have been able to find quite a bit of common ground." Hermione's gaze and voice were steady.
"But he is a Death Eat —" Flatterworth began.
"With all due respect, Mr. Flatterworth," Hermione cut him off mid-word. "Draco saved my life during the war. And he saved Harry and Ron as well. So, DO NOT accuse my fiancé of being a Death Eater ever again."
"But he does have the Dark Mark, does he not?"
"Flatterworth, I will not entertain any more questions from you today." Hermione's voice was flat and unequivocal.
"Draco, darling, how do you feel about being forced to marry a . . . Muggle-born witch?" Skeeter's poisonous voice floated over the crowd.
Draco's eyes flashed his displeasure at her tone. "Miss Skeeter, I can assure you that one of the happiest moments of my life was when the Sorting Hat said my name as it sat on Hermione's head. There is no one I would rather marry." No one dared to mention his past as a Death Eater again, or question his reaction to his future bride.
After the other two couples took turns at the podium, Shacklebolt took control once again and called the conference to an end.
8th Common Room
Saturday Evening
Hermione flopped down in her favorite chair, kicked off her heels and groaned. Cushioning Charm or no Cushioning Charm, those shoes hurt after a few hours. Draco, noticing her distress, sat on the wide, overstuffed arm of her chair and pulled her feet into his lap where he proceeded to rub out the stiffness and pain.
"I will give you until next week to quit doing that," Hermione groaned from her seat. Draco tossed her a brief grin. He released her feet as their compatriots arrived but stayed where he was on the arm of the chair.
"I don't know about the rest of you, but I do not feel like going anywhere or seeing anyone else tonight." Harry rubbed his forehead. "I swear, I felt like a piece of meat up there."
"How did we do?" Tracey asked Daphne.
"All things considered, I think it went well," Daphne nodded her head in approval. "But Hermione, why does Rita Skeeter dislike you so much?"
Hermione looked over at Ron and Harry and grimaced. "I may have . . . and might still be threatening her to prevent her printing rubbish about Harry, Ron, and I."
Blaise spoke up, "Blackmail, Granger? I'm impressed."
"Blackmail is such an ugly word, Blaise. I prefer coerce. I'm coercing her," Hermione said rather primly. "We will see if she remembers not to cross me in the morning, I suppose."
"Alright, so supper here?" Ron's stomach rumbled loud enough to startle everyone.
"Dobby!" Harry called.
A/N: Another fluffy-ish chapter, but I hope you enjoyed it!