A/N Hi Everyone. This chapter took a bit longer than I had planned as it required an emergency smut injection. I realised I had written 7000 words of wedding with nothing more than a chaste kiss. I was genuinely afraid to post it in case I was lynched. I've had to split the chapter so There's now one more chapter and an epilogue to come.

I've been editing this morning whilst the baby watches the breakfast news and shouts at me...any mistakes are entirely her fault.


The grounds of Malfoy manor are absolutely stunning. Hermione sees now why Narcissa was so adamant that they marry in autumn. The lawn still has enough of its vibrancy (only a little magically enhanced) to contrast brilliantly with the flame-coloured trees which edge the formal gardens and the sandstone house itself seems almost to glow in the clear October light. Growing up in the Muggle world this has always been Hermione's favourite time of year. Even here in deepest magical Wiltshire, she is sure there is a hint of autumn bonfires and toffee apples in the air.

Guests have been arriving steadily for the past thirty minutes and are now seated on the hundreds of gilt chairs the house elves spent the previous day organising. The aisle is flanked by huge box hedge sculptures depicting magical creatures. Hermione thinks they looked a little sinister. She isn't at all sure she wants a box thestral presiding over her wedding, but she has paid little interest to Narcissa's planning. If she had she might have said no to the troupe of jugglers and fire eaters who have been entertaining the children up until a few moments ago. She would definitely have put her foot down regarding the addition of several dozen more white peacocks to the manor's already overcrowded stock. She is sure that more than one guest will be taking home a little souvenir on the sole of their shoe and she has already cast a number of imperturbable charms over her dress and footwear.

Finally, a hush falls over the crowd and the orchestra Hermione had seen earlier strike up Pachelbel's Canon in D minor. Narcissa had initially railed against using the Muggle music but was won over by Hermione taking her out to her car to listen to a CD of the London Philharmonic. Hermione has subsequently heard her talking excitedly to some of her pureblood friends about the avant-garde Muggle music they would be hearing at the wedding.

It really is the wedding of the century. Hermione has grossly underestimated the public appetite for a member of the golden trio marrying the heir to one of the oldest wizarding families. Their engagement has spawned thousands of pages of press coverage. Most positive, some incredulous, only Rita Skeeter's has been in any way negative. Narcissa has proved herself to be just as shrewd as her ex-husband and Hermione wonders how much money has been made from the bank of photographers and reporters in a cordoned off area close to the altar.

Speaking of the altar; she can't quite see it from where she is currently standing in a specially erected pergola laced with enough notice me not charms to see off the most dedicated of reporters Due to the curve of the lawns the aisle has a slight bend and the alter is currently hidden behind a huge box hippogriff.

Hermione grips her bouquet tightly and takes several deep calming breaths.

"You look beautiful." Ginny kisses her softly on the cheek before she arranges a heavy diamond studded veil over Hermione's face.

"You ready?" Harry offers her his arm and she grips onto it tightly never more grateful than now for the support of her friends. Slowly, trying desperately not to trip over the hem of her gown she begins to make her way down the aisle with Ginny following behind.

It is, by necessity, a very long aisle and for the first half of it at least Hermione doesn't recognise a single face. These must be all the important society witches and wizards that Narcissa assured Hermione they just could not leave out. As they move closer to the alter she begins to pick out prominent ministry workers, members of the Wizengamot, and politicians. Her ability to recognise anybody is seriously hampered by the heavy veil which has been in the Black family for several generations. Hermione hates it, but is extremely touched by Narcissa's gesture in offering it. Through the lace and diamonds she thinks she makes out her own boss and members of her department amongst the crowd and shoots a smile in their direction.

Eventually, she is amongst her friends. Most of the Hogwarts staff has come, including Hagrid who is sitting in a specially reinforced chair next to an ice sculpture of a werewolf. Some of the centaurs from the forbidden forest have also made the trip and are standing to one side. Hermione spares a smile for Firenze. Then there are her Hogwarts classmates and members of the DA. Hermione slows a little and grins at Neville and Hannah who are sitting with Luna and Rolf. Finally, occupying the front rows on her side are the assembled Weasley clan who smile supportively at her as she passes. She realises belatedly that she has been so busy searching out her friends that she has not looked up at the altar.

The figure standing there has his back to both her and the assembled crowd. Hermione's breath catches in her throat and she longs to rip the stupid veil away from her face in order to let her see clearly the man who she is to marry. She is forced by propriety to continue her slow journey forward as a slow ripple of surprise runs through the crowd and Lucius Malfoy turns around to greet his bride.

She almost stumbles at the sight of him. He has changed his outfit since she last saw him and she wonders if perhaps he had time to have a whole new ensemble tailored in time for his surprise wedding. His outer robes are a soft dove grey and she thinks the colour suits him much better than his habitual black as it warms up his pale skin and softens the steely grey of his eyes. His face is as impassive as always, but Hermione notices that muscle ticking in his jaw and his mouth turns up into a half smile as she closes the distance between them and reaches out to take his hand.

"Miss Granger."

"Mr. Malfoy."

The half-smile becomes a smirk. He leans in so his lips brush against the fabric of her veil. "Tell me Miss Granger, who did you wish to prevail, father or son?"

It is Hermione's turn to smirk. "You'll just have to find out later, won't you?" She looks around. "Where's Draco, you didn't kill him did you?"

"I'm right here, Granger." Draco steps forward into the best man position. Hermione bites her lip. If she is not very much mistaken Draco is sporting a black eye. She looks very closely at Lucius and wonders if she can detect the shimmer of a glamour along the line of his jaw.

"Boys," she mutters.

Ginny comes around Hermione in order to lift the veil and tuck it safely behind her. "You'll be fine," she whispers. She quickly squeezes the hand not held possessively by Lucius and goes to stand by Harry on one side of the altar.

"Good luck, Granger." Draco gives her a brotherly punch on the arm and takes up his position on the other side of the celebrant.

Her hand remains in Lucius' throughout the ceremony. This is a good thing as it stops her from legging it during the celebrant's particularly long dissertation on fidelity. She can't help but notice that his hand is very nice as hands go. It's warm and pleasingly large completely engulfing her much smaller appendage. Still, she almost gets cold feet on a number of occasions. Is she really, on the basis of three orgasms and a handshake, about to marry a man she has, until this day, disliked unreservedly? It appears that she is. Despite every nerve in her body screaming at her to turn tail and run she obediently repeats her vows after Lucius.

Lucius appears unmoved by the whole operation. Other than the steely clasp of his fingers around her own (which might have appeared romantic to anyone who didn't know that Hermione is a serious flight risk) he seems completely relaxed. When the vows are finally over and the choir of wood nymphs has finished their eerie serenade Lucius turns to her with a look of immense satisfaction. His expression as he brings his lips down on hers reminds Hermione of that moment in the ministry when he signed his much-improved business deal.

He doesn't kiss like a man who lost his virginity only a few hours previously. His lips are soft and warm as they caress hers. Hermione can't quite believe she is capable of any response, but in spite of the ache between her legs and the public nature of their clinch, she feels a flicker of arousal as Lucius cups her cheek. His tongue flicks briefly against hers before he raises his head. The stunned crowd break into muted applause and Hermione fixes a rictus grin on her face.

They retire to another gazebo to sign the register. As she signs Hermione Granger for the last time Hermione feels herself begin to tremble. This is without doubt the rashest thing she has ever done. A swirl of magic forms along the lines of her signature. It leaves the page in an iridescent golden string which winds around her hand to join with the ring on her left hand. Her whole arm is suffused with calming warmth. She glances over to see that Lucius is experiencing the same phenomena. He reaches out his free hand to her and as soon as their fingers touch another golden thread begins to knit their fingers together the same warmth spreading through her fingers and up her arm eventually settling in her chest. She watches transfixed until the golden light is completely dissolved.

When she looks up she realises to her surprise that she and Lucius are alone. Lucius has his wand in hand and as he flicks it the walls of the gazebo roll down affording them at least a semblance of privacy.

"What are you doing?" Hermione just has time to ask as Lucius pulls her into his arms and brings his mouth hungrily down on hers. His answer is unnecessary. It appears that wedding ceremonies have an aphrodisiac effect on her new husband. He kisses her with more enthusiasm than finesse. His hands bracket her jaw and his tongue demands entry to her mouth. Hermione finds herself helplessly kissing him back. She doesn't care that they are in the middle of her wedding with a thousand guests including the Minister for Magic and The Chosen One outside. She doesn't care that her hair and makeup are being smeared for the third time that day. All she cares about is the intoxicating sensation of Lucius' mouth against her own. She wishes for nothing more than to be subsumed completely by him; to sink into him and drown in the pleasure he offers without ever coming up for air.

She doesn't protest as he skims his hands over her rib cage and palms her breasts his thumbs rubbing over the nipples. The jewelled silk of her dress provides far too much of a barrier and she arches her back pushing herself into his hands, trying to heighten the sensation. Her hands have been in his hair, his beautiful soft hair which she has wanted to touch for as long as she can remember, she just hasn't dared admit it to herself before now. Now though, they skim down to grasp his taut buttocks and she pulls him closer so she can feel the jut of his erection against her belly. They groan in unison.

His mouth leaves hers and trails hot and wet down her neck as he presses biting kisses to the throbbing pulse there. Then she feels his hand inching up the skirt of her dress, burrowing desperately beneath the fabric until his hot palm burns on her thigh. Somewhere, in the back of her mind she thinks she ought to stop him. This is nether the time nor the place and perhaps the intensity between them is why this marriage is such a bad idea. She doesn't want to be out of control. She can think of nothing worse than being a slave to sensation. And yet it does not occur to her to push him away, to consider how embarrassed she will feel later when they are inevitably forced to leave their temporary sanctuary. All she can think about is the near painful heat that is growing between her legs. There is a fire burning there which only Lucius can extinguish.

His hand flattens against her belly and his fingers slip beneath the elastic of her knickers. She gives a squeak of shock, surprise and pleasure as he parts the swollen lips of her sex and his middle finger slips inside her. He's moving cautiously now and feeling his way as he begins to move in and out of her. Hermione feels herself clench greedily around him as she tries to prevent his exit.

"More," she hears herself gasp against his cheek. She feels Lucius smile and he withdraws a little before she is stretched by the addition of another finger. She breathes his name as she arches her back and presses herself as close to him as humanely possible. She rocks her hips back and forth against his thrusting fingers. With each rock his palm rubs against her clit and she can feel her orgasm building lineside her. She's going to explode in an event as cataclysmic and inevitable as the big bang. Lucius has somehow taken control of her as surely as if he had her under the Imperius curse and she can do nothing now but wait for her climax and hope that it doesn't render her extinct. She lets out a brief cry as she begins to come and Lucius clamps his free hand across her mouth. Even as his fingers continue to move inside her he gazes down at her with a curious mixture of elation, lust and humour in his expressive grey eyes.

Hermione's body throbs on and on in what seems like an endless chain reaction of pleasure which leaves her wrung out and weak as she sags against Lucius. He gently withdraws his hand, allowing her skirt to settle around her ankles once more, and presses a soft kiss against her forehead.

"Did I tell you you are magnificent?" he asks huskily. She has never heard him sound so sincere. She can only blink at him as she gradually comes down to earth. Gently he disentangles himself from her and removes her fist from where she is unconsciously clutching his robes. He performs multiple Scourgifys over both of them and uses a handy steam emitting charm to take the creases out of his rumpled robes. Finally, he conjures a soft cloth and gently wipes at Hermione's face. Judging by the stains he is removing smudged mascara and smeared lipstick. Hermione fears that nothing he can do will remove the just shagged expression which she can't seem to shift.

"Do we have to go back out there?" she eventually asks surprised by the sound of her own voice. It sounds completely normal. She had half expected to have transformed into another person entirely.

"I'm afraid so." Lucius raises her hand to his lips. "Please rest assure that I have no more appetite for this celebration than you. I shall spend the entire evening picturing you screaming my name as I bury myself inside you once more."

He doesn't wait for a response from her. Instead, he turns away and raises the sides of the gazebo with a flick of his wand. Hermione clutches hold of his hand and, blinking at the sudden light, follows her new husband out into the garden to face their public.

A/N - I hope you're all happy with the choice of groom (!) I wanted to say something about the empty review box just waiting to be filled, but I'm incapable of writing anything without innuendo at present so I'll just shut up.