Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
Also, wow. I haven't updated this fanfiction in over three years. I'm sorry, if anyone who was reading it then is still around. I started focusing more on original stories, but as writing has been stressful lately, I wanted something fun again! We'll see how long my updating spell lasts!
Again—this is going to be rough because I've stopped writing in passive voice, and this fanfiction is in passive voice, and regaining my footing is a little rocky. Towards the end, it starts to feel a bit more natural, but honestly I've kind of forgotten the right method for this. It's a re-learning experience!
"Don't forget the plastic card thing that opens the door," Draco reminded, his foot keeping the door open as he impatiently hangs out into the hallway.
"It's already in my purse," I replied, shouldering past him.
"So what's breakfast?"
"It said in the room they serve it in the lounge," The plastic card by the bed had listed continental breakfast, whatever that meant. I was rubbish at figuring out muggle money at home, much less in a new muggle country. Why couldn't muggles keep their currency like wizards? Universal.
"Alright, miss," Draco extended his elbow as I joined him in the hallway, "Shall I escort you to breakfast?"
Giving him a raised brow, I loop my arm through his, willing to play into these ridiculous charades, "Why thank you, darling."
We completely ignored the muggle lift and opted for the stairs, arriving to the lounge in a matter of minutes. There's a lovely array of croissants and pastries and fruit, but of course Draco ignored them entirely and headed for the far wall—there's a glass case full of greasy donuts, and a few plastic containers with multicolored bits.
"What is this?" He asked no one.
A little boy slightly to the right of him looks up at him in wonder, "Isn't it cool? You get your milk, and turn the door knob thing and your cereal comes out."
Draco does as the little boy has instructed, happily choosing a mix of multicolored circles. Why would you put that into your body? I can't help but wonder.
Not following suit, I grabbed a croissant and some fresh strawberries. My drink options are limited to burnt smelling coffee and sugary apple juice. I choose the former, and make my way to a quaint little café table with two chairs.
The little boy from earlier sits happily with his cereal a table over with his family—obviously muggles from the strange look cameras that hang from their necks. I try the coffee, realizing a moment later I would have been better off choosing water.
"Why did we have to stay in a normal hotel?" Not a second wasted, I whisper= asked Draco as soon as he took the seat across from me.
"It was decided that it would be less offensive for our cover."
"I know. We're observers…but why couldn't we just as easily observe from the inside?"
Draco excitedly spooned some of that neon cereal into his mouth, his lips quirking into a delighted grin, "This is magical."
"Poor word choice," I responded, it's an adjective that doesn't really do a lot for us.
"It tastes like fruit!" He continued, his voice gaining volume.
"Hush," I harshly whispered, "You're going to blow our cover."
The little boy looks over excitedly, "Mom! I think they're secret service agents." He all but screamed. "What's the British CIA?"
"What's the CIA?" Draco turned to me in confusion. Frowning, I hitched my shoulders in a shrug.
"Are you James Bond?" The little boy asked, stepping up into his chair so we could see him.
After breakfast, we got in a sleek sedan, and headed off towards the wizarding shops.
"How are we going to do this?" I asked him quietly, I had been unsure of whether or not I should even ask him in the first place.
"We have an image to maintain." He insisted, though at this point we'd both already realized that image was simply thrust upon us for Bella's personal amusement.
"Are we really going to run into…prospective clients in the wedding dress shop?" I asked, not trying to be harsh, but because I really didn't see the harm in being ourselves.
He shrugged, "If it's a friend of your Mother's, we honestly have no way of knowing."
"This is going to be hard, regardless." I sighed.
"Hey," He put his arm around me, rubbing my shoulder, "We agreed. This is what we want to do…because this may be the only chance we ever get to have this."
I took a deep breath, "I feel like we're on the edge of a knife."
"Stop," He shook his head—taking the role of optimist for once, "It's just me and you. No family, No friends, No outside pressure."
I took a deep, calming breath, closing my eyes and leaning into him. "You're right. I'm being silly. Let's go pick out the dress I'm wearing for our wedding."
"What colors do you have in mind?" He asked conversationally, I wish I could say jokingly, but we both knew that it wasn't.
"Mother will insist that we use a traditional black and emerald scheme, or perhaps black and blood red." I replied, sighing and rolling my eyes. I understood the need for tradition, but black and emerald wasn't my heritage. Black and red was so Dracula. That's not and never has been what I've wanted for myself.
"Of course," He laughed, "As will my mother, I'm sure."
"And while I do appreciate traditionalism, I don't like the color palette. I like the idea of black as an accent, just because it's very elegant and as we're purebloods, there's no way around a large, cathedral type wedding." Unfortunately, as a girl growing up in our society, these images had been forced upon us from the moment we understood we'd marry advantageously one day. Our mothers practically plan the ceremony before we're even born. My mother had always had a binder for all three of us, of course, Emma's was now useless. "I like dark grey bridesmaids dresses and pink."
"What shade of pink?" Draco doesn't hide his laugh, and I can't blame him. We both know that this would never be allowed.
"A light blush," I replied, smiling.
"I could be okay with that." He played along, his lips tweaking in a genuine smile.
By the time we arrived at the shop, it felt natural to be walking in to try on dresses with Draco. There was a little voice in the back of my mind that knew this would only make things more difficult for me when I returned to London, but I couldn't stop myself at this point.
"Is there anything I can help you with, Miss?" A dark haired witch wearing glasses from behind the counter asked as we entered.
"Yes, I'm Hayley Bennett. My mother was supposed to have set something up for me?"
Her entire persona shifted, her smile became more fixed as she over the top replied, "Oh yes! I've been looking forward to it! We've already pulled several items for you to try. Your mother talked about a specific color palette that you're looking for, so we've incorporated that." I stifled my laughter and turned to flash a knowing smile at Draco. "Is this the groom?" She asked, walking over to us and smiling at him.
"Yes." He replied without hesitation. I gave him a look—if this got back to my mother, I'm not really sure what we'd end up facing for the lie.
"If you just follow me back here, we'll get you set up in a dressing room, and I'll start bringing things out for you to try!" She said enthusiastically.
The first dress wasn't terrible. It was a princess gown, of course. Strapless, all white, with ivory beading along the bodice. After she helped me into it, we walked out into the open space—that's where all the mirrors were, and where Draco waited. I felt so…weird in the gown. It was like nothing that I'd ever tried on before.
I stood up on the pedestal in the center of the room, and turned to look at Draco. He looked blown away.
"I was thinking that we could alter the beadwork on the bodice to reflect the color theme that you decide upon. We can even work in some onyx, if you'd like. Some emeralds or rubies, depending on what secondary color you decide to go on." She offered. I looked at Draco, smirking.
"I love the dress, you look beautiful." Draco said, "And it's so amazing to see you in a white dress…more so than I thought possible. But that's not the one. I can tell by the look on your face"
The shop clerk looked panicked for a moment, "That's what this stage is for! We have many more dresses to choose from. What do you think about it?"
"He's right. It's not the dress. It's a beautiful dress, but it's just not the one. I like the overall style, but nothing about this dress is making it feel like it was meant to be my own."
"Then let's try on the next one!" She replied enthusiastically. We walked back to the dressing room, and she turned to the next garment bag. "This one is more traditional." She began unzipping the bag, and the most frothy, white dress appeared. It had a sweetheart neckline, and flimsy chiffon sleeves. There was crystal and silver beading over the bodice, and a thick platinum ribbon around the waist. "This is your mother's favorite." She said enthusiastically, as if that would alter my opinion.
Which it did, just not in the way that she had intended it to… "We would of course make some small changes." She drew her wand from a hidden pocket, "Just to give you an idea of what it could look like." She muttered a few things under her breath, and a green steam appeared, breathing over the dress. The silver crystals switched to shades of emerald, and black. And the ribbon around the waist went from platinum to black.
There was no way that I could ever like this dress.
Still, I put the dress on willingly enough. This would be the dream dress for the perfect Slytherin. Not the perfect pure blood though, the colors were a little too…trashily ostentatious. I pictured myself in something very fashionable, and something that was definitely more traditional—with so many black and green accents, you could hardly count this as traditional.
"How do you feel about this one?" She asked, "It's one of our more popular styles."
"I don't know. I'm not sure how I feel about sleeves." I shifted back in forth in front of the mirror, trying to make myself like something about the dress.
"It looks lovely on you!" She gushed. You could tell she was going to do everything in her power to get me to purchase a dress from her.
She led me back towards Draco, and I watched him choke back laughter. She wasn't as perceptive of him as I was, so I doubt that she noticed it.
"Well that's…traditional." He remarked. "We aren't sure if we want to do green as our accent color." Draco said for me.
She looked at me, "What other colors were you thinking about?"
"We were considering something a little more romantic," I said, "Not that green isn't beautiful, but it's not me."
"But weren't you in Slytherin, Dear?" She asked a little confused.
I shook my head, "I went to Beauxbatons," I replied lightly. "My grandmummy always says that a proper lady is raised in France." I finished, keeping my head high—which I always did, "So the color green really isn't a huge part of my upbringing."
"And what about you?" She asked Draco. He smiled lightly, looking at me sweetly.
"This is about what she wants." He replied. I was embarrassed, so naturally my gaze fell down. he was so good at playing his part, that was unarguable. I smiled to myself, and looked up at him. He was still staring, just the same. But I could tell by the look on his face that he this wasn't just a part to him. He meant it. Not just the words, but the feelings in his eyes. Part of me wanted to laugh, because it was all too cheesy. It was all so clichéd, this was the way that it was supposed to be, wasn't it?
"This dress is obviously not what you're looking for," the saleswoman admitted, "How about we try on one more of the ones that your mother set aside for you? There's a dress that she was particularly fond of and wanted you to see. If it's still not what you're looking for, we can go out on the floor and peruse some other options."
Walking in the large gown was definitely something I wasn't used to. For balls, I usually opted for dresses with smaller skirts, less ostentatious skirts. This dress was swathed in layers of chiffon. I focused on the layers upon layers floating around my legs as I walked back to the dressing room.
I was more than a little apprehensive about the dress I was about to see. I knew my mother's tastes. I knew what was expected of me in this wedding. I knew what society expected.
She helped me quickly step out of the dress, before walking over to a zipped garment bag. I took a steadying, deep breath.
The dress was gorgeous. It had a sweetheart neckline, some gathering along the side and a full princess skirt. The skirt had pickups on the left side, revealing the underlay, providing a nice color contrast.
I would have picked out the dress for myself—that was unavoidable.
There was only one problem.
The color. The dress was black, and the underlay was crimson red. I daresay I shouldn't have been surprised, but I was. "Isn't it lovely?" The witch asked me, staring in the mirror as I regarded myself.
"It is lovely," I agreed, "But I daresay that the color choice is hardly suitable. I don't want a black wedding dress, this looks like something I would wear to a ball."
"But miss—It was your Mother's favorite choice."
"Yes, I can see how it would be. I'm a bit more…well, I would say traditional; however for my family and place in society this is traditional. It's not my tastes."
She shrugged, "Let's go show your fiancé." She didn't argue, but instead led me back out to Draco. He looked at me, thought provoked. Scratching the fine stubble on his chin.
"Well, the color is all wrong." He dropped his hand to his lap, "It looks like what you'd wear to one of our balls." The Witch who had been assisting us looked displeased, though not so secretly I'm pleased that Draco's thoughts mirror my own so closely, "How about we try this," Draco leaned in, "How about we look around at what you have and she selects gowns with a theme that she's looking for?"
"But—your mother was very firm in her choices." She looked at me with wide eyes; as if she was afraid of what would happen if she displeased my mother.
"No one has to know," I replied, shrugging my shoulders lightly.