Beta Love: Glittergrrrl05 (if you haven't read her Bespoke Witch, you really need to. Unity will be right here, waiting for you.)

Disclaimer: HP and the HP universe are the property of JKR and her assigns. I am not making any money from the writing or publication of this story.

Ch. 18

Friday, 13 November

Somewhere in Wizarding Kent

Parvati giggled into her wine. "So, Hermione, you've been awfully quiet. You need to tell us about your wedding night. How was it with the Slytherin Prince?"

"I haven't had enough wine to get all chatty about that, Parvati." Hermione laughed. "But you can tell us all about Blaise if you'd like."

"Oh come on Hermione, give us something!" Parvati protested. Padma, Tracey, and Daphne all chimed in.

"Spill, Hermione."

"Come on, tell us."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Fine. It was wonderful." And she refused to say anything more.

Across town, Draco was getting similar treatment from one of his friends.

"Come on, Drake, you can tell us," Theo wheedled. "How was it? Gryffindor's princess – I bet she was hot."

Blaise snickered into his Fire Whiskey at Theo, who was clearly ignoring the thunderclouds behind Draco's normally silver gaze.

"It was my wedding night, and I'm not going to talk about my wife." Draco tried to keep his temper under control.

"I thought we were friends." Theo pouted. "I'd tell you. And Blaise will tell us about his, won't you?"

"No, actually, I probably won't, Theo. It's about respect, and I don't want you knowing intimate things about my wife either," Blaise responded.

"Well, damn." Theo pondered his two best friends. "If you're going to be sticks in the mud, then give me another shot."

5:30 pm

Saturday

Blaise and Parvati's Wedding

Hermione smiled as she saw the ghostly ribbons wrap Parvati and Blaise's hands. The pain she felt when her hand was being tattooed was but a distant memory, and it had only been two weeks. Her gaze turned to Draco at Blaise's side. I can't believe he's my husband. Just then, as if he felt her gaze on him, he turned his silver eyes to her. They darkened to the pewter that she saw every night in their bed. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat as she felt her body respond to the passion in his gaze. Draco smirked as if he knew exactly what she was feeling.

Hermione decided to return the favor. She lowered her lids slightly and sent him her best sultry look. She felt like an idiot, but when she saw him shift uncomfortably and bring his hands to clasp in front of his trousers, she smirked in satisfaction; however, she pasted a faux innocent look on her face when she caught his warning glance.

Following behind Blaise and Parvati, Draco, with Padma on his arm, slowed beside Hermione and whispered in her ear, "You'll pay for that one, love." And then he was moving quickly down the aisle to the exit, trademark smirk firmly in place.

An hour later, following introductions at the reception, everyone found their seats for the formal dinner. Hermione and Draco were seated at the Head table, and Hermione noticed Harry looking troubled. He was rubbing the back of his hand, a gesture Hermione had not seen in years. Ron didn't look troubled; he looked thunderous.

"Draco, do you see Harry and Ron?"

"Yes, I see Pothead and the Weasel." He jumped and grinned when Hermione punched his arm. He took a second look at his former rivals. "What's with them? Weasley's not even eating."

"I think something's wrong." Hermione looked around to see the cause of their consternation. Nothing was obviously out of place. Her gaze swept the room again, and she did a double-take. Shit. It couldn't be. Hermione leaned slightly to the side. Son of a bitch. I thought we were done with her. "Dolores Umbridge is here."

"You're joking." Draco tightened his grip on his fork and knife.

"Would I joke about the cat lady in pink?"

"I thought she was in Azkaban." Draco looked around to find the former Headmistress.

"I thought she was too. And why is she here?" Hermione hissed. "I hate that vicious bitch. And you –" she glared at her new husband.

Draco's eyes widened at the murderous look in his wife's eyes. Holy shit, this one could get ugly. How to respond? Fuck. "I'm sorry. I was a fool," he blurted.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "Bloody right you were." She turned her attention back to Harry and Ron. "I'm going to go speak to Harry and Ron. Maybe you should stay here."

"I'm not afraid of your friends, Hermione."

"You should be in this case. Have you noticed Harry's hand?"

Draco shook his head. "No, what's wrong with it?"

"He's got a scar on it. It says 'I must not tell lies.' That – bitch" Hermione bit out, "forced him to write lines in his own blood until it scarred his hand. So, your role on the inquisitorial squad won't be remembered fondly."

"She was bad. I know. No excuses, Hermione. I hate that happened to Potter. Did she do anything like that to you?"

"No, not to me. She just sent Dementors after Harry in Little Whinging and tried to get him expelled for casting a Patronus, then permanently scarred his hand. So, no. She just went after my best friend." She paused. "Godric, I hate that woman, and I don't know that I've ever felt that about anyone. It's irrational."

Draco squeezed her hand in his and pulled it up to kiss the inside of her wrist softly. She felt the quick swipe of his tongue over her pulse and a corresponding jolt low in her belly. "I will ruin her if it would make you happy, Hermione."

Hermione softened at his words. "No. She'll never be happy, and she'll die alone and unloved. I'm not going to waste energy on her." She leaned forward for a brief kiss. "I need to check on Harry and Ron. I'll be back in just a moment." She stood and swiftly made her way over to Harry and Ron's table.

They stood as she approached and they exchanged hugs. "You saw her?" Harry asked in her ear.

"Yes, I did. Are you alright?" she responded.

"I am." Harry glanced over at the former Headmistress of Hogwarts in her signature pink dress. "Azkaban hasn't changed her at all, has it?"

Ron shuddered beside Hermione. "She's a horrid toad. Why d'you think she's here?"

"I don't know, but I see someone who does." Hermione had spotted Kingsley wending his way through the tables, speaking to everyone. She wasted no time in waving him over.

"Harry, Ron, Hermione…so good to see you." He shook Harry and Ron's hands and briefly hugged Hermione. "How is married life, Hermione?"

"Married life is wonderful, Kingsley, but tell me: why is Dolores Umbridge here? Shouldn't she be, oh, I don't know, in Azkaban?" Hermione's smile turned to ice.

Kingsley had the grace to look abashed. "Since she was not a Death Eater, she was eligible for early parole. And as a former Ministry official, she was invited."

"Why didn't someone revoke her invitation?" Harry hissed.

The Minister shrugged. "She slipped through the cracks, Harry. Don't worry, it won't happen at your wedding."

"Too right it won't. And it won't happen at my wedding, either." Ron snorted.

Just then, the band leader drew everyone's attention. "Please, everyone, it is time for toasts and to cut the cake." He directed them to the cake stand at the rear of the room. Draco arrived to take his place at Hermione's side.

"Everything all right, then?" Draco spoke, slipping his arm around her waist.

"Malfoy." Harry and Ron spoke in unison.

"Potter, Weasley." Draco nodded to them in turn, taking in their dangerous mood. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "So, shall we?" He turned and guided Hermione over to near the bride and groom where he was to give the customary toast as Best Man.

Draco turned on the charm for his best friend and welcomed Parvati into their friendship, ending with the traditional, "To the bride and groom!"

As the toasts continued, a man discreetly drew his wand from his sleeve at the back of the room, . He looked like a minor Ministry official from the Office of Magicial Law Enforcement. Several speeches later, Hermione stepped forward. Here's my chance.

And several things happened all at once.

Hermione raised her glass. "I'm so happy to…."

"Hem hem hem." Dolores Umbridge stepped in front of her.

"Avada Kedavra!" A stream of green light blasted across the room.

As soon as Draco heard the Avada begin, he was in motion, tackling Hermione to the ground with Harry and Ron right behind, wands drawn.

Screams rent the air. "NO!" "Merlin." "She's dead."In the background there was a crack of dis-apparition. And chaos ensued.

Harry stared at the body on the ground, rubbing the back of his hand again as Hermione gaped at the lifeless form of Dolores Umbridge. Godric help me, I wished her dead. And someone killed her. Ron, to his credit, kept his attention on the crowd and was moving in the direction of the sound of Disapparition.

No one could quite remember who the mystery wizard had been.

Sunday Morning

Staubes and Baker Hotel

Wizarding Kent

Murder Most Foul

Former Ministry Official Killed at Zabini/Patil Wedding

Wizarding society was stunned yesterday by the murder of Dolores Umbridge, a former UnderSecretary to the (former) Minister, Cornelius Fudge. She was also the head of the Muggle-born Registration Commission during the reign of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, the former Tom Riddle, Jr, killed in battle with the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter, an attendee of the wedding.

Hermione Malfoy (nee Granger) was stepping forward to give a toast to the newlyweds as Ms. Umbridge also began her speech. An unidentified assailant sent the Unforgivable Killing Curse, instantly ending the life of Ms. Umbridge. Minister for Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt issued the following statement in the wake of the tragedy.

All steps are being taken to apprehend the culprit in this vicious murder, and the Auror Office and Division of Magical Law Enforcement is asking for any information leading to the arrest of this criminal. At present there are not specific persons of interest, and the only information we have is that a wizard of indeterminate age dis-apparated immediately following the Killing Curse. The wizarding community should be assured that solving this murder is a top priority.

When asked if Ms. Umbridge or Mrs. Malfoy was the intended target, the Minister indicated that all avenues are being explored and that the Ministry is unwilling to comment on the exact nature of the ongoing investigation at this point. (Story continued on p. 12, wedding fashion on p. 2)

Draco read the article over Hermione's shoulder in their hotel suite. His hand that rested on her shoulder tightened convulsively as he remembered the confusion and horror of the night before. Hermione reached back and squeezed his hand in comfort.

"Perhaps I wasn't the target, Draco. Umbridge wasn't very popular."

"Umph. If you really believe that, I have bridge to sell you for a song," Draco mocked her gently. "No, Lucius had something to do with this. Mother warned me he was becoming more irrational." He considered his options and swiftly made his decision. "I have to go see him. I'll know when I look in his eyes."

Hermione turned abruptly. "You're going to Azkaban? When?"

"No time like the present." Draco smirked.

"I'll come with you."

"He won't tell me anything if you're with me," Draco returned. "Why don't you stay here and enjoy the suite? We have to head back to Hogwarts this evening." He tried cajoling her, but didn't hold out much hope that it would work.

"And let you waltz into that horrible place alone?" Hermione's incredulous tone matched the look she sent him.

"I don't think they will keep me, Hermione."

"Well, I'm going, and that's that. I'll wait in the lobby while you visit. But you aren't going alone." Her tone rang with finality.

Draco recognized he had lost this battle and gave a short nod. "Fine. We'll leave in an hour."

"We can go now." Hermione began pulling her hair up in a braid and moved to get ready, but stopped as Draco pulled her back into his arms. "Draco, what are doing?"

"I think we need some more time here, love." Draco dropped a kiss onto the back of her neck, sending chills down her spine. "We can leave in an hour…or two."

3:00pm

Azkaban Prison

Draco and Hermione arrived in the middle of Sunday afternoon visitations, and Hermione settled down with a book in the waiting area while Draco went to the visitor's cell.

Lucius stopped in his tracks at the sight of his son, his heir, sitting in the visitor's chair. "Draco. I didn't expect you; I thought you were in school."

Draco's eyebrows quirked upward at his father's greeting. "What, you aren't glad to see me, Father? No congratulations on my fortuitous wedding?"

"Of course, it is good to see you, Draco." Lucius paused. "I must confess that I am upset you haven't brought your new bride to see me. I'd like to give her a proper welcome to the Malfoy family."

"A proper welcome, Father? What type of welcome would that be? Because I know you were, how shall we say, displeased with the Sorting Hat's choice for me."

"Well, surely you recognize that she is in no way a proper sort of bride for you, a Malfoy. Over five hundred years of purebred tradition, and you're forced to marry some Gryffindor mud – " Lucius caught himself when he saw the murderous look in his son's eyes. "Muggle born witch."

Draco looked relaxed as he leaned back in his chair, and his voice was idle, but his eyes darkened to a charcoal gray, betraying his emotions. "She is the brightest witch of her age." He examined his fingernails for imaginary imperfections.

"Nonsense. Daphne Greengrass or Pansy Parkinson –"

Draco burst out laughing, interrupting his father. "Oh that's rich. I'll grant you that Daphne is clever, but Pansy? You think Pansy could ever go wand to wand with Hermione?" His chuckles faded as he shook his head and the smile vanished from his face as if it had never been. "So, Father, have you seen the papers this morning?"

Lucius was slightly nonplussed at the abrupt change of topic. "Yes, a great tragedy. I saw that Dolores Umbridge was killed at your friend Zabini's wedding reception. She was a talented witch; I always liked her."

Draco withheld a bitter laugh at that comment. "Yes, she was. But the Aurors are wondering if she was the target."

"Surely you aren't suggesting that Ms. Granger was the target, Draco," Lucius chided his son.

"It's Malfoy now, Lucius. As you well know."

"Yes, yes, of course, she's your wife now. Malfoy." Lucius agreed with Draco, but narrowed his eyes at Draco's use of his first name.

"Would you know anything about this attack, by chance?" Draco didn't hold out much hope for anything concrete, but decided to try for answers anyway.

"Surely, Draco, you are not accusing your own father of conspiring against his new daughter in law?"

"No, I would never be so gauche as to do that, Lucius." Draco deliberately paused after using his father's first name to emphasize the subtle insult. "But perhaps you know the whereabouts of someone who might?"

"Son, I am here, in Azkaban, all communications closely monitored. It strains the bounds of credulity to think I would be able to influence anyone." Lucius' words were innocent, but the smug tone told Draco all he needed to know.

"Of course. I see your point. You couldn't have anything to do with it." Draco was furious, but his years in Slytherin House had taught him to hit back and hit back where it would cause the most damage. And he knew just where to hit his father.

"You know, Lucius, if you wanted Voldemort to win, you really shouldn't have let Bellatrix torture Hermione on the drawing room floor." He unbuttoned his left cuff and began to roll up his sleeve, ever so neatly and carefully. "No, you should have killed her. But if you had, then I'm afraid I would have killed you myself."

Lucius' pale skin took on a waxy pallor. "What do you mean?"

Draco continued conversationally. "Potter and Weasley wouldn't have lasted two days without her, you imbecile. But she already saved me." He turned his now bare left forearm so that his father could see the almost invisible mark. "It faded, during the ceremony, you know. And then, when we consummated our wedding vows," he smirked at the slightly ill look on his father's face, "it faded to this. She broke Voldemort's last hold over me."

"Why? How?" Lucius stared in sick fascination at Draco's skin and rubbed his own arm.

Draco shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe you love Voldemort and his twisted philosophy more than Mother. But I love Hermione more than anything." He narrowed his eyes in consideration. "And I cannot wait for her to have my baby: a beautiful, half-blood Malfoy heir."

He stood to leave, straightening and buttoning his shirt sleeve, ready to drive a proverbial final dagger into his Father's twisted heart. "Oh, and you wanted me to take Hermione to the Manor. I could, but it wouldn't do what you wanted." He narrowed his eyes. "When we stood by and let Hermione bleed all over the floor, the Manor accepted her then, as my bride. As my mate." He tone turned mocking. "As it turns out, blood is just blood, and hers is just a pure as mine." His gaze swept his father one more time. "Goodbye, Lucius." Draco turned and swept out, his cloak swirling dramatically behind him like Severus Snape's in the Potions lab, leaving behind a dumbfounded Lucius Malfoy.

Draco reached the lobby and collected his wife.

"Are you okay?" Her gaze searched his.

"I'm fine." He met her eyes full-on. "I'll tell you all about it when we get back to Hogwarts, okay?" Hermione nodded, and they made their way to the Apparition point to return to their lives.

4:00pm

Diagon Alley, London

Another minor Ministry functionary picked up the Daily Prophet and read the article on the shocking death of Dolores Umbridge.

Damn her. If only she hadn't stood at that exact moment, the Mudblood would be dead and I would be free of this wretched life I have to lead.

Dolohov's eyes narrowed as he considered his options. The Weasley wedding is out and so is the Potter wedding. But they can't hide in public forever. He went to the owl post and scratched out a brief letter to Lucius. It was time for his old friend to provide some help with this situation.