A/N: Hello everyone! Had a good week? I definitely did.
This chapter marks the end of a stage in Hermione's life. Now she's going to be moving on to bigger, greater events. I quite like this chapter, like I mentioned – I hope you like it too. Welcome to all my new readers (Yes, I know who you are!) and hello again to my old ones. Let me know what you think!
Thank you to: JRRTFrk, semantics, Akatsuki'sBloodyNekoNinja, Alexybath and xenaz3 for reviewing.
The wedding itself is dedicated to Semantics. : )
WARNING: SEXUAL CONTENT AHEAD!
Chapter 27: There Goes the Bride
Hermione:
Walking – no, running – up the flights of stairs to the Astronomy tower had become a sort of habit as of late. We had decided to meet there daily, since apparently it was a good work environment and since these days I had also made it a habit to be perpetually late – there was no other option but to run or face the wrath of the most impatient dead man in the world.
A.K.A Tom Riddle, if you had any doubts about who I was talking about.
But today, I was running later than usual. We had had to finish packing the rest of the apartment as well as Draco's things at his house (which had not been awkward at all of course!) and it had taken longer than I had expected. Tomorrow, we would be leaving for London.
Indefinitely.
I had put off telling Riddle this development in my life. Honestly, I hadn't known how to bring it up. In fact, I wasn't even sure why I was compelled to tell him. Why would it matter to him, anyways? I could meet him just as easily from there as I could in New York. It wouldn't make a difference at all.
But still, I couldn't shake off the feeling that I was being dishonest with him. But then, my mind spoke up, why would it matter if I kept things from him anyways? He was helping me sure, but he didn't need to know all of the details of my life.
Against all reasonable explanations, I felt the need to divulge it to him anyways. He was a sort of... friend. At the very least, I could depend on him to help me with this prophecy bullshit. And besides, he probably wouldn't even care that I was going away to London. It wouldn't make a difference to him, either way.
So why did I feel nervous?
When I finally reached my destination I found him lying on a ragged blanket we kept there for the colder nights. He was stretched out on it, in his impeccably pressed black shirt and equally impressive trousers. The sun was just beginning to set, and the magnificent rays only made his body glow. I had come to know exactly why everyone had worshiped Tom Riddle back in the day. They really couldn't be blamed one little bit. He looked like a God.
How had Dumbledore resisted the charm? He had been gay for Merlin's sake!
"Something's happened, yes?" he called to me from his place on the floor. I sighed. As usual, he hadn't even opened his eyes.
"What do you mean?" I feigned.
He peaked up at me through one lid, as if making sure that I was really asking such a simple question. "I can feel the tension rolling off of you all the way from here, darling." He lay back, with his head in his arms, enjoying the last of the sunshine. I could see a bit of his stomach peak out from where his shirt had risen, and I actually gulped.
Being with him sometimes felt like I was cheating on Draco – except, the guy was dead, so it didn't exactly count. In fact, it wouldn't even technically count if I slept with him. He is dead! Don't judge me. Not that I would actually sleep with a person like Tom Riddle, willingly.
"Well?" he asked impatiently, snapping me out of my wild and completely inappropriate thoughts.
"Well, what?" I asked. He really needed to learn how to be patient, he really did. No wonder he didn't have any friends around here!
"Well," he mimicked me, perfectly, "What happened? Did another vision come to pass?" And at this, he sat up to regard me with what I assumed was his idea of concern. Well, you had to hand it to him. He could be a total bastard one second and completely enrapturing the next.
"Oh no, nothing like that," I said, quickly squashing his theory. I came to sit down next to him on the blanket, kicking my shoes off. The stone floor of the Astronomy tower was too chilly not to go sit next to him.
"Then like what?" he persisted, not giving up.
I rolled my eyes, but he only smirked when he caught it, which in turn caused me to roll my eyes again. "It's like me moving."
"Hm?"
"I'm moving."
"Don't be silly, you're sitting completely still."
I couldn't help it. I burst out laughing and all he could do was stare at me incredulously as if he hadn't just said something completely stupid. I laughed so hard I think I ruptured my spleen or cracked a rib. For the first time in history... Tom Riddle had said something nonsensical and I couldn't keep my laughter in.
"Enough, you crazy woman! Stop it!" He seemed afraid at my hysteria, almost, but then he couldn't help but join me – even if he was only laughing at my behaviour. When we finally stopped laughing, I lay there with my red face, stitched side, sore cheeks and completely out of breath. "What was so funny?" he eventually asked.
"I'm moving countries, Riddle," I managed to gasp out.
"Oh."
We lay there in silence for quite some time. I wondered what he was thinking and why his response had been so empty. Staring at the beautiful sky turned out to be enough of a pastime while I waited for him to answer. Sunrise and sunsets were the most beautiful times of day at Hogwarts. It was a tranquility I missed but was glad to have acquired it again in this form, at least, in this world.
It seemed as if ages had passed and I had thought he had dozed off on me. When I turned to confirm my suspicion, I found him staring at me intensely. It was unnerving. Not in the sense that I was afraid of him, but in the sense that I felt as if I owed him something but I just didn't have anything to give. His gaze was almost... needy. And I wondered why.
"Where are you moving?" he finally asked. His voice was husky, low and completely attractive. I had a feeling he wasn't even aware of it.
"To London. Draco is expanding his company and I'm going to need to be there to help."
It had, apparently, been the wrong answer to give. He rolled his eyes and rolled over onto his back to watch the last of the sunset. I waited for him to say something, for some kind of emotion to flicker back onto his face, but he was completely impassive and silent.
Eventually, night fell, but we still lay there in silence. Me, watching him, and him watching the stars.
"So it's getting serious then," he remarked.
It was completely unexpected. I hadn't thought he would say anything else to me tonight. "Yes, they've gotten around to really depending on me at work," I stated proudly. I had no idea why, but I had confided all manner of things to Tom Riddle. And more surprisingly, not only had he listened to me, but had even offered brilliant advice.
He was a friend, I realized. A very good friend.
First, he chuckled and then his face darkened a bit. "I meant with the blond product of incestuous relationships."
I smacked his arm but he didn't say anything. And then I realized the man was being serious. "Riddle, we've been engaged for a while. What did you think it was, just a fling? And why do you have to talk about him like that? I love him." I sat up to regard him.
But all the infuriating devil spawn did was shrug.
I got up, going towards the ledge of the tower to take in the view of the sprawling grounds of Hogwarts. I could feel him watching me from where he lay, but thought it best to ignore him. From here, I could see Hagrid's hut, but there was no fire – no smoke coming out of the chimney. It looked like a cold little hut and I couldn't help but feel colder for it.
"Well, I can't help but say you have poor taste," he called back to me.
I turned around, angry now for him being so goddamn unsupportive. "Well, I can't exactly commend you on your taste, Riddle. After all, you are a mass murdering, psychotic, lunatic!" I yelled, my voice rising with each word. "And how dare you insult someone I care about? Draco has done the world for me and more and what have you done?"
He opened his mouth to reply, but I cut him off before he could manage.
"All you've done is attempted to help me unsuccessfully with a goddamn prophecy that you don't even care about. This is all a game to you, Riddle, isn't it? All you want is to gain points with Albus fucking Dumbledore. You want to be able to say that at least someone trusted you after all you've done to the world!"
I stood there, fuming, glaring at him and his pretentious, self righteous, ridiculously irritating body. But as I slowly cooled down, I realized that I had been harsh. If Tom Riddle had the capacity to look hurt (without feigning it, because he knew I could see past that now), it was now.
I almost felt bad. Almost.
Instead, I made to leave. He could be hurt for all I cared. I was done with him and his snide jabs at my life, my choices and the people I associated myself with. I didn't need anyone else to tell me my life is inadequate. I didn't need another person to judge my choices.
"Hermione," he called to me, just as I reached the door to the staircases. I stopped but didn't look back at him. I was afraid if I did, I'd lose my temper again. But something in his voice stopped me and forced me to listen.
"I'm sorry," he said. And then I just had to risk losing my temper to make sure that I had heard correctly. That Lord Voldemort had indeed just uttered an apology to me, a mudblood. It was unreal and absolutely heart stopping. But was it genuine?
Judging by the pained expression on his face, I decided that yes, it was indeed genuine. But how could it be?
Lord Voldemort apologizes to no one!
Especially not someone like me...
He had probably guessed my thoughts. But come on, it wasn't all that hard to guess what I was thinking about at this point. "Yes, I have many reasons to be sorry. But mainly for not being straightforward with you. But that, unfortunately, cannot change because you are already claimed."
Alright, that threw me. I had no idea what he was talking about. When I opened my mouth to ask, he just raised his hand for silence. "Will you do me a favour, please?"
Again, please? Who the hell was this imposter and where was Tom Riddle? I wanted to say it aloud, but he actually seemed vulnerable. So I just nodded and he seemed slightly relieved.
"When you go back home, home to London, will you visit my grave?"
/
Moving back to London had been more difficult than either of us had anticipated, but in the end we had managed to settle for an overly large apartment in London. That, of course, had been on Draco's insistence. Why we needed a five bedroom apartment was well beyond my comprehension, but sometimes the man was decidedly lavish.
It was on such a busy day that I was unpacking, painting the walls magically and making sure Crookshanks didn't tear into the new furniture, that there was a knocking on the door. Me, thinking that it was only Draco back with lunch, shouted for them to come in.
I heard the door open to the room I was in and I spoke without turning around. "Thanks baby, I'm starved. Just put it in the kitchen and I'll be there in a second, okay?" I spelled the paint rollers to stop what they were doing and levitated them onto the sheet on the floor. "Can you make sure Crookshanks doesn't eat the paint in the living room?"
"Crookshanks seems to be happy with your shoes," I heard a voice that was clearly not Draco. Spinning around I found the last person I'd expect standing there watching Crookshanks nibble on my discarded shoes.
"What are you doing here?" I felt completely self conscious compared to her immaculately dressed form. I was dressed in baggy sweats and one of Draco's old shirts covered in dust and paint while she... well, she was always perfectly dressed.
That's Zara for you.
"I came to apologize," she said quietly. She took a few tentative steps into the room, as if she were uncertain. What could she possibly want to apologize for? "Draco...before you left, he came and told me what really happened, but you were gone before I could come and apologize."
There were tears in her eyes and I felt completely girly for admitting that I was crying freely too. "I'm so sorry, Hermione." I ran towards her, closing the distance between us and slamming her into a gigantic hug. "Will you ever forgive me?"
I sniffed, looking up at her. "Want to be a bridesmaid?"
She laughed, wiping away her tears and nodded enthusiastically. And just like that, Zara and I were friends again as if nothing had even happened.
When Draco walked back in and found us embracing, messy with paint and tears, he just stood there grinning as if he'd achieved a gold medal. So I did what any grateful lover does. I gave him the finger and went back to hugging my girlfriend.
Two Months Later:
All too soon, it was the night before the wedding and for some reason, I was absolutely afraid for the sun to rise. Why, I have absolutely no idea. I assumed it was a case of cold feet (everyone gets cold feet in the movies!) and that had to be the reason. Because really, there was no rational reason for me to be afraid of my own goddamn wedding.
I mean... I had already lived with Draco for a reasonable amount of time before we had gotten engaged. We were clearly compatible with each other and I know reasonably well that I didn't want to spend my life with anyone but him. He would love me, he wouldn't let me crash and burn and he was the very definition of a "soul mate".
And there was also the fact that I was meant to be with him. Literally. Fate wanted us to be together. So why was I so scared? This was all planned! It was supposed to happen. There was no reason to doubt it, I told myself. It had to be cold feet. There was no other plausible explanation.
Well, except for the fact that everyone had blown this wedding clear out of proportion.
I almost wished I had married the man in New York when I'd had the chance to avoid all the commotion. Mrs. Weasley and her little minions (Ginny, Fleur and Zara) had turned this into the event of the season. Clearly, they were out to ruin my life. Everyone who was anyone was going to be there and the last time I'd checked the guest list it had been just about 500 people.
500 people!
500 people come to watch the golden girl marry an ex-death eater turned amazing entrepreneur turned friend of all Gryffindors.
Of course, all my closest (and not so close) friends had been invited to the extravaganza. It was to be held in a grand wizarding hall that had been built in honour of Circe, and then celebrated afterwards in a grand ball room – one of the many in a Malfoy owned hotel.
I barely slept that night in fear and anticipation of the next day. It was a good thing the minions were so skilled at the art of make up because I'd seriously need to cover the huge black bags I knew would be there in the morning.
/
It was too bright, too hot and my dress was too poofy to walk in. Rather than let me complain about it (after all, wasn't this supposed to be my day?) they told me to stuff it and had me stand still so I could be properly dolled up.
I was ready to kill someone.
I almost wished I had some firewhisky. Almost. If only I hadn't had such bad experiences with it in the past. Wasn't this supposed to be enjoyable? It was so far from enjoyable that I think it was a lot more comparable to a trip to hell. That's not a very good thing to be saying about your wedding day. I'm rather sure that's a bad sign. Bad luck? Or SOMETHING.
My fear was still very present in my mind. It was completely irrational, I told myself. Unfortunately, the stomach does not listen to the minds voice of reason. Stupid stomach...stupid mind! And stupid fucking Ginny for making me wear such high heels to balance out the hem of the dress!
Soon the clock struck twelve and it was noon. My anxiety only increased at this for it meant that it was time to go. I was going to get married now. My mind couldn't process it and apparently neither could my stomach.
My bridesmaids all kissed me lightly on the cheek. There was a curtain covering the door, one that we all would have to walk through in a moment's time.
"It'll be okay," whispered Zara before she walked through the curtain partition. She was soon followed by Fleur, who perhaps looked even more beautiful than I did, which wasn't unusual at all. Fleur could outshine anyone, even if she were ungroomed, unwashed and wearing a sack. Ginny squeezed my hand and then she too went out to take her place as my maid of honour.
Trying to keep my minimal breakfast of orange juice down, I walked through the curtain, praying to God that I wouldn't be sick. Or worse, trip and rip my overly expensive gown.
It was beautiful.
There was no other way to put it. The light was soft and natural and I almost felt as if I were floating. My father graciously took my arm and we began our treacherous procession down the aisle. It wasn't so bad, really. My father wouldn't let me fall.
At least, I hoped he was strong enough to steady me should I fall.
The church itself was beautiful, a tribute to the origin of magic and Circe. It was all stone and stained glass, but not damp and musty as might be expected, neither was it cold or drafty. Rather, there was a welcoming atmosphere in the building, and one could hardly even tell that there were several hundred people packed in like rats to watch a show.
Clutching onto my father's arm like a lifeline, I realized the overdressed people seemed almost gaudy against the beautiful art on the walls and domed ceiling. I felt almost as ease. Well, as calm as one can possibly be with half of the British wizarding population staring at your every move. They couldn't judge me in a place that was so sacred, right? Not without being judged themselves.
Thank god for the ministry kissing our arses, or we wouldn't have gotten such a wonderful place.
Soon, the aisle of death and been walked across, and I was safely placed in the crook of Draco's welcoming arm. The look he gave me when I finally reached him was one I couldn't really place. Was it gratefulness or devotion? It made my heart melt. How could I have possibly been afraid of spending the rest of my life with a person like this?
With his arm firmly placed around my waist, he turned to the minister who began to speak. I on the other hand, couldn't look away from him. He was so goddamn fetching in his robes and muscular body just pressed against me. It was quite sad that I couldn't concentrate on my own wedding ceremony... too engrossed with my future husband. Is it even possible to be so empty headed? But who can blame me? He's an Adonis in flesh and blood! Especially with the way he stood poised, all confident and such. I'm rather sure Witch Weekly would be covering it in their next issue.
When Draco suddenly let go of me and turned to look at me with worry etched on his face, I was effectively startled right out of my thoughts. The surprise that I knew was evident on my face made his worry even more apparent. He seemed...cautious.
Looking around, though, I realized that the place was dead silent and everyone was staring at me. It was an absolute What the Hell Did I Do? Moment.
Eventually, the minister cleared his throat, and the everyone focused their attention towards him. "Miss Granger?" he asked.
"Yes?" I responded a little stupidly.
"Do you take this man to be your husband?" This was apparently being asked of be a second time.
Well damn. How the hell did I screw THAT up?
"Yes! Yes, of course I do!"
Before the minister had even finished pronouncing us man and wife, Draco grabbed me in his arms and kissed me more thoroughly than was appropriate for public. And so, with thunderous applause – I became Mrs. Hermione Malfoy. And I rather liked the sound of that.
/
The rest of the evening passed in a blur and soon I found myself a little tipsy off the amount of champagne I had drunk. Next thing I knew, I was being carried to my new apartment in the arms of my brand new husband.
Life was glamorous at that moment. I didn't care if this moment wouldn't last. In my mind, this was forever.
We didn't waste time with frivolities. Instead, Draco carried me straight to the bedroom and deposited me gently in our bed. In our extravagantly large bed. He claimed that he had lived frugally with me long enough and now was the time to invest in things that suited his tastes as well as mine. I just couldn't find it in my heart to deny him anything.
"I know why they make these things so elaborate now," he muttered, struggling with my poofy, hand-made, beautiful wedding dress. "They want to make my night even MORE difficult!"
I giggled at his response. His cheeks were tinged pink, probably from the champagne as well. His hair was a little ruffled, this most likely caused by my constant touching. He was so beautiful, I could hardly contain my joy. "Maybe it's supposed to be difficult, sweetheart," I managed to gasp out, burying my fingers in his hair. His lips were on my neck, exploring, while his fingers attempted to make my dress come off. The result was more like him groping me through layers of material that I wished would just automatically go away.
"Like unwrapping a bloody package." He growled at my giggle.
"I can be like your present!" I said, a little tipsily. Spreading myself out on the bed under him and raising my arms above my head, I waited for him to manage the dress off. "Happy birthday," I offered, smilingly.
The look he gave me was one of such pure lust, I couldn't help but bite my lip and press my legs together in reaction. But he wouldn't have it. A minute later, with a quick wave of his wand, my dress was gone and he was above me, pinning my wrists above my head. His lips were everywhere, his skin completely pressed against mine.
"You're mine," he whispered in my ear. With his lips pressed against mine, he pushed himself into me and I almost screamed. "Mine," he moaned into my mouth.
The resulting "Yes!" escaped my mouth without me even noticing it. Soon, the room was filled with grunts as he completely filled me. My legs automatically went around his waist, pulling him to me, wanting more of this delicious man. The friction made my eyes roll back into my head, and the look on my face made him thrust harder.
It was the most needy sex we'd had in a while. Him gliding along my skin was only made easier with the sweat from our exertions. His hand that palmed my breast was what had me come the first time, the second from his hand inching lower and rubbing so goddamn sinfully, I almost passed out from the intensity of it.
Finally, with one last hard thrust, he held still in me while I clenched repeatedly around him. The feeling of his release made me join him once more and I was completely sated. He lay over me, panting for a moment, before he untangled himself from my legs locked around his waist and lay next to me, pulling me into his arms. I kissed him, softly at first and then deeply enough for him to know how much I loved him.
And when we were on the brink of sleep, with his arms wrapped around my still naked form and his head pressed against the back of my neck, I felt like there was nothing better in this world than belonging to Draco Malfoy and in turn having my name branded onto him.
A/N: Unsigned Reviews
Alexybath: Haha, yes, I do enjoy when the other characters creep in and out! And yes – lots more drama to come. See you next Friday!
Xenaz3: I must say I like your name quite a bit. Thank you for reading, I'm glad you're liking it so far. I update every week, I hope that's not too much of a wait. I know some authors like to leave their stories alone for months at a time (I've been guilty of doing it too at some points, understandable of course) – but, it's nice to be productive at something. By the way, I rather like Riddle too. You're going to enjoy the next few chapters immensely if you like him a lot. See you next week!