A/N: I am once again so grateful for all of the incredible reviews. I SO appreciate them. I hope you enjoy this (long-awaited) chapter. Please know that I am not posting this upcoming week as it's my birthday! So look forward to the next chapter that first weekend of February.

November 14th, 1999 - Sunday

To say that Draco is nervous is an understatement. He stands at the front of a small Muggle church called 'St Catherine's', staring out into a small audience. Though he has grown used to the Muggle world over the past year, exploring around to escape the constant eyes of the wizarding world, he has never been inside of a church.

This one is small, with whitewashed stone walls and tall curved ceilings. There are stained glass windows high in the walls that spit kaleidoscopic patterns all over the dark wood pews. It's really quite lovely, and Draco understands why Hermione wants to marry within the walls.

The guest list for the big day consists of Theodore and Luna Nott, who are sitting on the front pew to his left; entirely too many Weasleys, and Harry Potter himself. Draco wonders half hysterically what his younger self would say if he could see his future wedding. If he'd ever believe that he'd ever be married in a Muggle church, with his largest childhood rivals as witnesses, to his Muggleborn bride.

He was marrying Hermione bloody Granger.

He feels as though a slight breeze could knock him off the altar, and Draco has already sworn that he will die before he faints at his own wedding in front of Scarhead.

He hasn't seen her in almost three days, and the last time he had seen her, he'd kissed her. The sight of her hair tangling in the cool November air, her rosy cheeks and her kiss-swollen lips have haunted him every moment of each day.

He half expects her not to show up, WPG be damned.

The music is his first clue — it begins softly, echoing throughout the small church. Draco has never heard the song before, though it is gentle and sweet, piano overlaid with a harp. It builds slowly, and the large doors swing open.

Hermione Granger stands at the end of the aisle in a traditional witch matrimonial gown — it's a darker champagne colour with a more modest neckline and an emerald green sash, long flowing sleeves, and Draco's knees feel vaguely wobbly.

She had dressed in Slytherincolours for him?

Her hair is down and wild; despite the many taunts he had tossed her way in their childhood, he's actually quite partial to it, and he aches to kiss her again and tangle his hands in the curls. Other than the bracelet he had given her adorning her wrist, she only wears two sparkling pins in her hair.

She walks herself down the aisle — some part of him had been sure that she would ask one or both other members of the golden trio to accompany her — yet she is alone.

As is he.

She meets him at the front altar, taking her place across from him. There are no flowers in her hands, and Draco reaches out naturally. She lets her fingers tangle in his and gives him a wry grin when the Ministry official Draco hired clears his throat.

"Honoured guests, we are gathered here today to tie Mr. Draco Lucius Malfoy in matrimony to Miss. Hermione Jean Granger. Through their match, we have seen respect, contentment, and growth, not only within their relationship but also with the surrounding community. The Ministry offers their blessings to your marriage, and hopes that a deep connection will continue to blossom between you."

Draco can feel his lip curling at the officiant's contrived words — the Ministry was offering their blessing to a match they had forced?

A quick squeeze to his hand interrupts his fury, and his eyes track back to his bride-to-be. Hermione Granger is rolling her eyes, humour sparkling in their near-golden depths. His sneer fades away; there is no better feeling than having an inside joke with her. He scrunches his nose slightly and her lips turn up as though she might laugh.

"Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco snaps his head back towards the officiant, who is staring at him expectantly.

"I do," Draco says immediately. He has no idea what the man had asked, but he's reasonably sure he just agreed to marry Granger.

"And Miss Granger, do you agree to wed Mr. Malfoy and accept him as your lawfully wedded husband?"

"I do."

"By the power vested in me by the Ministry of Magic, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Draco vividly remembers the way Potter had snatched at Ginny Weasley, kissing her so hard and passionately they had nearly tumbled off the damn stage. And, though he and Theo had raised their eyebrows at the crass behaviour, Draco is suddenly and immensely envious.

Hermione watches him through her long lashes, and Draco feels himself bend forward as though through molasses. He desperately wants to kiss her, but he also wishes he could just sink through the floor at the feeling of her friends' eyes on them.

Instead, he finds her lips softly and kisses her chastely. After a long moment, he pulls back and finds her watching him; he realizes belatedly he had shut his eyes.

The officiant leads them to a desk set away from the main altar and has them sign their marriage contract. He presses his wand to the paper, watching it glow in the same way Theo's did only a week prior.

The paper reads Draco Lucius Malfoy and Hermione Jean Malfoy.

They walk together back down the aisle together once completing the ceremony, with their arms linked. It feels more uncomfortable than it did only a few days prior, and Draco suspects it's because Ron Weasley is glaring at him at the same time that Luna is clapping off beat to the calm music playing.

The doors close behind them, leaving them alone in the church's entrance. It's much smaller and empty of people; a blessing that Draco knows will only last a few more moments. Their guests will exit the church proper and join them in moments, and it will force Draco to mingle with them before he can finally head home with Hermione.

Home.

He's bloody lightheaded.

"Are you alright?" Her voice reaches him from afar, and he glances down to his bride to find her biting at her lip. It's the first time she's spoken to him all day, and she is now his wife.

Draco knows his mother would be horrified if she could see him right now — and not in the same way Lucius Malfoy would have been. Though Narcissa had also been pureblood and raised to believe Muggleborns were lesser than herself, she had not been quite as fervent in her hatred of them as his father. No, Narcissa Malfoy would be less appalled at his choice of a bride than she would be at his manners.

It snaps him into motion, the thought of his mother's disappointment. He turns to face Hermione fully and sighs out a breath.

"You look beautiful," he tells her, skimming his fingertips down the gauzy material of her sleeves. "I can't believe you wore Slytherin green and silver for me."

Hermione rolls her eyes at his cocky smirk, "Well, I was told it was traditional."

"Where on earth did you get the gown?" Draco asks. He's hardly about to insult her by saying there was nothing traditional about her.

"Molly Weasley gave it to me," Hermione swallows hard, voice going choked. "At Harry's wedding. I altered it a bit, but it's very similar to her original."

The absence of her parents is a gaping hole, and Draco hasn't pushed her before, because he knows what it is to want to not discuss one's missing parents; still, he feels the questions on the tip of his tongue.

The doors swing wide behind them, breaking the tension, and they turn to find Ginny Potter beaming. She rushes forward and wraps Hermione in her arms. Her family follows, and Draco watches as his bride is surrounded by people who love her.

Arms startle him out of his thoughts and he freezes as Luna Lovegood — no, Luna Nott, now — squeezes him in a hug. Theo is watching her with a disbelieving look on his face.

"Draco Malfoy," Luna murmurs airily, "congratulations. You couldn't have married a better witch."

Although the WPG forced this marriage, Draco bites his tongue because he somehow suspects Luna might be correct. She releases him as abruptly as she had embraced him and doesn't seem particularly bothered that he never returned the hug.

Theo sticks his hand out, and Draco shakes it easily.

"Shite officiant, mate," Theo says genially, "but the church was nice."

Draco huffs a small laugh, "Same could be said about your wedding, Nott."

Theo grins, and a throat clears. Draco turns to face Ron Weasley, who has his arm around his mother, who is crying openly into a blue handkerchief.

"Thank you for inviting us to the wedding," Weasley's voice is frosty, "we have to be off, now."

"Thanks for coming," Draco replies, almost dumbfounded at Potter's sidekick even deigning to speak to him.

The Weasley parents and Ron disappear far faster than Draco would have expected, and all that is left is Harry Potter with his bride, Theo and Luna, and Hermione, still looking stunning in her wedding gown. Ginny is talking animatedly to Granger, and they look involved in their conversation.

Harry Potter approaches him, and Draco can feel Theo tense slightly at his side. Battle-ready.

"muffliato," Harry mutters when he gets close, "Listen Malfoy, let's make this quick. Can you apparate to the Burrow? You've been there before, for the wedding."

"Yes, I could. Why?" Draco answers uneasily.

Harry's eyes shift quickly to Ginny and back. The girls still seem engrossed in their talk. "Molly's planned a small reception — nothing big! But I know Hermione planned nothing, and I think it would be a shame not to see her friends and have dinner. Can you get her to the Burrow?"

"Are you asking me to trick my wife on our wedding day, Potter?" Draco drawls.

Harry rolls his eyes, "Can you do it or not, Malfoy?"

"I can," he replies.

Harry Potter nods once, then waves his wand subtly at his side, dismissing the muffliato.

"Hermione, we also have to get going, but you look beautiful. Let's get together soon, okay?" Harry interrupts, and Ginny has a suspiciously mischevious glint in her eyes. Hermione doesn't seem to notice and hugs them both one more time.

"Don't suppose you're coming?" Draco murmurs at Theo, standing close enough to hear.

Theo rolls his eyes, "Unfortunately yes. Luna says we can't miss it."

"Never thought I'd say this, mate, but thank goodness for Luna Lovegood."

"Luna Nott," Theo corrects, a hint of pride lacing his voice. Draco grins; it's good to see his best friend happy.

"We're off as well, Hermione," Luna's voice is gentle, "but it was a lovely wedding. Not one Nargle in sight."

"Luna, Theo, thank you for coming," Hermione replies, bemusement colouring her tone at Luna's words.

Soon enough, Draco is alone with his wife — and truly alone this time, with no friends about to pop in and interrupt them.

"They left much quicker than I expected," Hermione muses.

"Are you tired?" Draco asks. He wonders suddenly if it was a mistake to agree to Potter's plan — if Granger would rather go home.

She turns to him, "Oh, no. I'm fine. I expected them to visit more, actually."

She seems disappointed that the Weasley's left so quickly, and Draco is buoyed by the idea that even though it is not his surprise, he will still be the one to give it to her simply by apparating her there.

"We can always visit another day," Draco says off-handedly. "Shall we head home? I can side along us there."

Her head tilts when she turns to face him squarely, and Draco is suddenly terrified she'll refuse to side along with him.

"You look handsome," Hermione says, instead. Her cheeks are pink, and it looks as though it took an immense amount of courage to say the words.

Draco grins, "Well, I could hardly let you be the most beautiful thing in the room, I have a reputation to uphold."

Granger laughs suddenly, "Your ego, Malfoy, is the size of this bloody church. I suppose I should be pleased I was second, then?"

Draco swallows and pulls her hand into his, "I hardly think you've ever come second in anything, Granger. Definitely not this."

It's far too much —

The humour fades from Hermione's golden eyes but instead is replaced by something far softer. She lets herself lean into him, wrapping her hand in his easily.

"Let's go home," she murmurs, "you big flirt."

Draco laughs, and they disappear with a pop.

They reappear within moments, but instead of being in front of their cottage, they are on the lawn of the Burrow. Though it is November, the Weasley's have charmed the front area to be warm, with a few roaring fires blazing around.

Draco tightens his arm around Hermione because the idea of people yelling surprise at her can only end badly.

Instead, the assembled group stays quiet, and Hermione goes rigid but then relaxes at the sight of the Burrow.

"Surprise," Molly Weasley says calmly, walking towards them with no tears in sight. "I know you didn't want a big reception, Hermione, but I can hardly have you go home hungry, so I thought something small would do the trick. Thank you for bringing her here, Mr. Malfoy."

"Draco is fine, Mrs. Weasley," Draco tells her, surprising himself even as he speaks.

"You knew?" Hermione Granger narrows golden eyes on him, and Draco smirks.

Her indignation seems to be the spark that allows the party to start because suddenly laughter and conversation break out. Hermione doesn't let go of his arm, even as she greets a few people.

"Thanks for getting her here," Harry Potter says when he approaches. Draco nods in acknowledgement, and Hermione positively beams.

"Harry," she grins, "I never thought I'd see the day you conspired with Draco Malfoy."

Harry shrugs, "Never thought I'd see the day where you married him."

Draco scowls, but Hermione laughs and squeezes his arm. She opens her mouth as if to retort, but is interrupted by Ron and Hannah Abbott appearing.

"Hey Hermione," Hannah Abbott greets, then glances nervously at him, "Malfoy."

"Come eat," Ron invites, "Mum made all your favourites! And even George is here! He brought Parvati."

Hermione is glowing with happiness, and Draco finds himself powerless to stop her from dragging towards a buffet-style table. Witches and wizards are gathered around, all smiling. It feels almost surreal. Draco doesn't think he's ever seen so many happy people in his life.

Draco recognizes most of them — if not from school, then from the many Death Eater meetings he attended that had placed prices on the heads of everyone surrounding him. He sees Arthur Weasley talking to what can only be one of his sons; Draco can't keep track of the Weasley brood. This one has scars marring his face and an easygoing smile as he speaks with his father, despite it all.

Draco can practically hear his own father's snarl in his ear.

Hermione's hip bumps his, "What's wrong?"

He shakes his head, "Nothing."

Draco forces himself to look down at her and push the ghosts of his past down and snags the small dumpling from her hand to eat it. Her cheeks mottle pink.

"Hey! I was going to eat that," She protests.

Draco smirks, "What's mine is yours, wife."

His heart almost stops as he says the word, but Granger just grins and rolls her eyes. She picks up another dumpling and bumps her hip against his again.

Draco realizes abruptly that he's fucked.

He has never seen this — never had this. Any relationship he'd ever had in Hogwarts had been cultivated through pureblood ideals or set up by his parents. When Voldemort had branded him, that had all stopped, because he could barely keep himself alive, let alone someone else.

The thought of giving a part of himself away to another is so abhorrent; there is just so little of him left.

And yet — it's nice. It's nice that Granger's gold eyes sparkle with laughter and secrets; it's easy to be in her presence, and a part of him never wants it to stop.

"You look like you've seen a bloody ghost, mate." Theo appears with a signature smirk. Luna isn't far behind, and she has the most ridiculous hot pink glasses on covering half her face. She stops just behind Theo, nearly running into him.

"Feel a bit like it," Malfoy mutters, tilting his head towards the Weasley clan. Nott's lips drag down.

"I know what you mean."

Draco watches as Hermione gets pulled away and into a conversation with Molly Weasley. They're both smiling.

"Oi, ferret!"

Draco turns despite himself and comes face to face with a grinning George Weasley. He's got a familiar witch at his side — one of the Patil twins, but Draco's never been able to tell them apart. He hadn't been able to tell the Weasley twins apart in Hogwarts either. It seems he will no longer have that issue.

"Weasel," Draco replies coolly.

George laughs and extends his hand, "I'm George, and this is Parvati."

"Theo," Nott reaches behind him and pulls Luna to his side. She's still wearing the ridiculous glasses and staring at the sky with a frown. "I believe you know my wife, Luna."

Parvati smiles easily, no shock present at Theo's words. "Hey, Luna. Find any Wrackspurts?"

Luna turns towards Parvati and slides her glasses up her face until they sit on top of her head. "Not yet. How's Padma?"

"She's good. She was supposed to come here today actually, with Blaise Zabini, but something came up."

Luna presses a finger to her chin, "Too bad. There are too few of us Ravenclaws around these days."

George Weasley glances around the small crowd as though he's only just realized that Ravenclaw is the most underrepresented house in their group.

"I heard Cho Chang married Terrence Higgs," George shifts his weight and brings his gaze back to Draco and Theo. "Slytherin."

Draco winces. Terrence had been vicious to the bone from the very first moment Draco had met him in Slytherin dungeon. He knows virtually nothing about Cho Chang, but he hopes she's got a few hexes up her sleeve.

"Bastard," Theo mutters, unconsciously pulling Luna closer to him.

George shuffles, fidgety as though nervous. Draco doesn't think he's ever seen either Weasley twin anxious before.

"Listen, Malfoy," George says, "How do you feel about champagne?"

Draco frowns, "It's… fine? I'm more of a firewhiskey fan, personally."

"Oh, great!" George exclaims, almost robotically. "You should stick to that! For most events. All, preferably. We have some here, actually. Yes! Let's have a toast!"

George Weasley spins away and rushes towards a bar cart, Parvati following much more sedately.

"What in the bloody hell was that about?" Theo mutters, green eyes narrowed.

Draco shrugs and stares with bafflement as George returns with two Firewhiskeys, which he hands to Draco and Theo. Parvati brings a glass of wine for Luna.

"None for you?" Draco asks.

George shrugs, "Perhaps later."

"Well, I for one would like to toast my best mate," Theo says after an awkward pause. "Malfoy — you've always been a bit of a pompous git who was too smart for his own good."

"Gee, thanks Theo," Draco rolls his eyes.

Theo laughs, "Let me finish! You're a prat, but — well. You're my best friend. I'm proud of you. Not just for marrying Granger, but… well, for becoming someone who could be worthy of marrying Granger." Theo clears his throat, "Besides. It'll be nice to finally have someone intelligent to converse with around here."

Draco flips his best friend off and coughs to clear his abruptly clogged throat. "Sod off, mate."

Theo laughs, and they all clink their glasses together. Draco glances around and finds Hermione talking to Ronald Weasley at the edge of the buffet table. Her face is pale and her hands are shaking.

"Excuse me," Draco murmurs, dropping his firewhiskey on the edge of the nearest table and strides towards his bride.

Even as he gets closer, there is no sound. Hermione's mouth moves, a frown tugging at her lips, and Draco can't tell what she's saying. The dull noise of the party echoes around him, but his wife might as well be silent.

She finally notices him when he's only a few feet away, and despite her casual movement, Draco is no fool. Her eyes cut to Ronald Weasley, and the red-headed man flicks his wrist at his side.

"Draco," she smiles, "did you eat?"

He's tempted to ask her about it. What could be so important she had to use a silencing spell in the middle of their makeshift reception?

The words are on the tip of the tongue when she sways. It's not even a stumble, she just moves lightly as though the wind has pushed her.

Her wedding dress is fluttering around her, her curls growing wilder by the moment, and her hands are shaking, and Ronald-bloody-Weasley has done something to stress her out on her wedding day. Thoughts of murder dance around his brain.

Instead, he moves forward and lets his arm curve around her waist.

"I did," he confirms, "Molly Weasley is a wonderful cook. Would you like another drink?"

"Sure," She agrees easily, and Draco moves to lead her away.

"Hermione," Ron's voice is a warning, but he barely has her name out before her eyes are flashing at his.

"Leave it, Ronald." She hisses, "Enough. That's enough."

Ron's shoulders slump. To Draco's shock, he doesn't even spare him a furious glance and instead disappears.

"Can I ask—"

"No." Hermione snaps. She seems to immediately regret her tone and glances at him guardedly. "Sorry. I meant… not… now. Please."

Draco frowns but nods. "Come this way. There's a table we can sit down at."

"I can stand," Hermione protests.

He regards her coolly. "I didn't say you couldn't, Granger."

They stare at each other. He watches the slightest tremble in her lip. The moment feels fraught with tension.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, "I'm so sorry."

Draco is rarely sure of anything in this life anymore, but he would swear on his entire fortune that Hermione Malfoy nee Granger is not apologizing for snapping at him.

"You don't have to apologize to me." He urges her forward again, breaking their stare. They make it to the table where Molly Weasley is sitting with Arthur and Harry Potter. Granger sits on his right.

"Hermione, you looked so beautiful today," Molly says immediately. "I'm so honoured you wore the dress — and I'm so glad you took the shoulders down, dear. Honestly, I have no idea what we were thinking when that was a fashion."

Hermione smirks, "That trend was also popular in the muggle world, too."

Arthur Weasley's eyes light up, "Really? Do we often mimic muggle clothing trends?"

Draco watches as Hermione laughs and tries to explain increasingly absurd clothing trends that Muggles wear. Some, such as leather jackets, have a certain appeal; however, as he learns of leg warmers and corduroy overalls, Draco reasons that there may in fact be fates worse than death.

As Arthur Weasley continues to rave about an invention called 'parachute pants', Draco watches the last of the tension fade from Hermione's shoulders. She's giggling almost uncontrollably, and Draco contents himself on the fringe of conversations, Firewhiskey in hand.

A chiming noise draws their attention, and Draco looks over to see that Potter has stood up and is tapping his knife gently against his champagne flute.

"I'd like to propose a toast. To Hermione: you are the sister I never had, and the smartest woman I have ever known. You have saved my life more times than I can count, and there is nothing I wouldn't do for you. I wish you all the happiness in the world," Harry's green eyes look glossy, and he clears his throat before continuing. "And to Malfoy — I wish you the best. And she is the best. So don't bugger it up, alright?"

Draco feels himself exhale. All things considered, that could have been a thousand times worse. He raises his glass in acknowledgement and to his surprise multiple Weasley's reach to tap their glasses against his.

"Cheers," Granger murmurs, tapping her champagne flute against his glass of Firewhiskey.

The toasting continues, but the makeshift reception is slowly dying down. Hermione keeps to the table mostly, basking in her loved one's presence. Ginny Weasley starts up a game of Quidditch in the back of the yard and had even invites him to play. He declines, mostly due to the fact that he's wearing his wedding robes, but also because he hardly relishes the idea of being chosen last for teams.

"You could have played, I wouldn't have minded."

Draco glances at his bride, "Next time. Are you ready to head home?"

"Godric, yes," she murmurs, "if I never have to wear these bloody shoes again it will be too soon."

Draco chuckles and stands, offering her his arm. She takes it and they make their way to Molly Weasley; she brushes away their appreciation for the small reception with tears and endless hugs for Granger.

This time, when they depart, Draco is tugged away with the force of her magic when she side-alongs him, the gentle squeeze she delivers to his forearm the last thing he feels before the apparition pulls him away.