A/N: Welcome to the first half of the wedding! I'm toying with the idea of when to switch to Fleur's point of view. I'm thinking it would be fun to show her point of view and where she is coming from... Anyway! If you like Harry Potter femslash, and you're 18+, you should join this Discord server: w w w . discord. gg/6anK88uNst (delete the spaces, they're a necessary evil to trick FFN)
Hermione awoke with a jolt, sitting bolt upright in bed. She was drenched in sweat and the sheets were tangled around her.
Ginny, lying beside her, groaned at the last scrap of sheets being wrenched away from her by Hermione's sudden wrestling.
Already the dream that had woken Hermione had faded from vivid reality to a hazy memory. Images of awful cloaked figures became foggier in her mind until she couldn't grasp at them anymore.
The early summer sun was already beginning to beam through the gap in Ginny's curtains. Hermione watched bright specks of dust float in the light as her heart slowed its racing.
Ginny shifted some more beside her. Hermione looked at the girl beside her, all freckles and wild red hair. Ginny had always been fit, being a sporty kid. But as she had grown into her teens, Ginny had got incredibly toned. Hermione let her eyes run down Ginny's figure, hugged by her cotton singlet and underwear.
Something fuzzy buzzed in the back of her mind. Hermione pushed it further into the recesses of her mind.
Ginny groaned again, running a hand through her loose ginger tresses.
"Is it really morning? I feel like we only just fell asleep," Ginny grumbled, her voice still thick with sleep.
"It really is," Hermione said solemnly. She leaned back against the headboard, sighing heavily. Today she was going to marry Fleur. Her chest felt tight already.
For the millionth time, she wondered whether she had bitten off more than she could handle volunteering to take Bill's place at the altar.
Ginny rolled over to face Hermione, peeking an eye open lazily.
"Ready for the big day?" Ginny asked with an impish grin. Hermione frowned. Ginny disliked Fleur, and knew how much Hermione disliked her too. Ginny had made no secret that she found it highly amusing that Hermione was going to have to play the happy couple with the blonde.
"What have I got myself into, Gin?" Hermione groaned, covering her face with her hands.
"A loveless marriage with a conceited bitch?" Ginny retorted, giggling softly, "But it isn't forever, 'Mione. Besides, you're helping the Order."
"Yeah," Hermione replied weakly.
For some reason, that didn't make her feel better. In fact, she was now beginning to feel like she was about to throw up. Her heart thudded hard in her chest again.
Hermione wondered if she had paled, as Ginny's facial expression moved from teasing to pitying.
Ginny also seemed to take it easier on Hermione after that, keeping jibes to a minimum as they lazily got up and ready for the day. Hermione dressed simply, in shorts and a tee, opting to get into her formal wear later. As the two stepped out onto the landing, Hermione was actually starting to feel her shoulders relax a little.
Unfortunately, the idle pace wasn't to last.
Once Ginny and Hermione headed off down the stairs, they were immediately caught up in a wild whirlwind of activity within The Burrow. The ramshackle structure was buzzing with people— Fred and George were running up and down the stairs in dress robes, the door to the bathroom was open and Arthur was shaving his face.
Downstairs, it was even more hectic. Molly Weasley had situated herself in the middle of the large table and was doling out toast as well as chores.
"Ginny! Hermione! Finally!" Molly called out, "Look, I've already sent Harry and Ron out with some toast to clear the cobwebs off the building. Perhaps you two can—"
"Errr, we'd love to, but I have to help Hermione get ready," Ginny said hastily, noticing the various people around lugging chairs and platters. Ginny shot Hermione a look that firmly said 'play along with this.'
Molly frowned, regarding Ginny and Hermione suspiciously.
"I've already had Fred and George try that line," Molly said flatly, "While already in their dress robes."
"Well! We have to get Hermione's hair ready!" Ginny improvised, "Besides, I bet the other bride is already getting ready."
"She is…" Molly conceded, "But—"
"Thanks mum! Catch you later!" Ginny chirped. She leapt forward, snagging a couple of pieces of toast off the table. Then she grabbed Hermione by the elbow and practically yanked her back up the stairs.
"Was that really necessary?" Hermione asked, "I'm sure brushing some cobwebs away wouldn't have been too bad…"
Ginny shot her an incredulous look in the narrow stairway.
"Really? It's mum. It would have been that, then another task, then another one, until we're toiling away right up to the ceremony," Ginny explained.
The two continued their hasty retreat up the stairs, before halting at one of the bedrooms.
The door was ajar and loud French voices were spilling out into the hallway. Hermione couldn't help but lean in, peering curiously through the open door. Ginny stalled beside her, similarly intrigued.
Fleur, dressed in a pale pink silk dressing gown and with her hair tied in a messy bun, was shouting at what appeared to be her mother, judging by the silky silvery-platinum hair on the back of the head nearest the door.
Hermione took a sick satisfaction in her years of French language classes paying off.
"Fleur, will you just take the box," Apolline Delacour insisted, gesturing to something out of Hermione and Ginny's line of sight.
"Why would I want that?!" Fleur retorted back.
"Fleur, it is a reminder of why we must make this sacrifice," Apolline tried to say calmly, though her voice shook a little.
At these words, Fleur scoffed loudly, rolling her eyes.
"Our sacrifice?!" Fleur shot back, "From where I'm standing, I'm the only one sacrificing anything."
Ginny nudged Hermione, raising her eyebrow. Hermione put a finger to her lips to halt the unspoken questions on Ginny's lips. Now wasn't the time for a quick translation.
"Fleur… It is the day of your wedding," Apolline tried again, "Can't we try and get along?"
"Wedding!" Fleur laughed bitterly, "It is more like a funeral! Here you are sending me into something so dreadful—"
Hermione didn't even have time for the sting of the words to hurt her fully. Ginny choked suddenly on her mouthful of toast. At first, she tried to do so quietly, face reddening and eyes watering. But soon she had to loudly cough as Hermione thumped on her back, mortified.
The door whipped open fully and two suspicious part-Veela eyed Hermione and Ginny with displeasure. Hermione tried quickly to glance over their shoulder into the room, spotting a wooden box about the size of a shoebox, open. Inside she could see some glass vials with a silvery liquid, as well as a curious small glass orb.
"Mother, this is Hermione," Fleur said, before adding through gritted teeth, "My bride to be."
Hermione held out a hand to shake, but Apolline ignored it, instead critically roaming her eyes over Hermione. Hermione suddenly felt very self conscious of her bushy hair and simple clothes, not having expected to meet Apolline Delacour so early.
"She is not so bad, Fleur," Apolline said finally, glancing at Fleur.
Fleur scowled.
Hermione's lip tightened, determined not to let the slight rile her up. She had an entire wedding to get through and it would do the Order no good to lose her temper before it had even started.
"Right…" Hermione said, trying her very best not to let her offense be known, "Well, Gin and I have to get ready. We'll see you both out there."
"So what were they arguing about?" Ginny asked as soon as they had returned to the privacy of her room. Hermione frowned.
"Apolline spoke about the sacrifice Fleur is making," Hermione said tensely, "And Fleur said the wedding may as well be a funeral."
"That French tart!" Ginny cursed instantly, "Not to mention her bloody mother with the 'she's not that bad' insult."
"I know," Hermione groaned, rubbing her temples, "I don't know how I'm going to make it through the wedding with them both being so insufferable."
Hermione's head throbbed with swirling thoughts. She thought of the disdainful way Fleur had refused to talk with her out on the lawns. She thought of the sheer outrage and anger in Fleur's tone as she shouted at her mother. Tonks had said that Fleur had changed— but from where Hermione was standing, Fleur appeared to be just as rude and judgmental as she had been at Hogwarts during the Triwizard Tournament.
Ginny walked over to her wardrobe, beginning to rifle through hangers.
"I guess you just have to think about it as your sacrifice, too," Ginny replied, "I mean this whole thing is just as hard on you, if you think about it."
Hermione hummed, still distracted with her irritation at Fleur, as she pulled out her wedding outfit.
"She's such a drama queen," Ginny continued to rant as she pulled out her dress, "Practically a funeral—pssh! As if she's ever had to go out of her way for a cause before!"
Hermione cringed, though Ginny was too engrossed in her own ramblings to notice. As much as Hermione recognised Fleur was a conceited mean girl— something about the level of pure horror and outrage in Fleur's voice had been truly hurtful. "Dreadful?" Was pretending to be Hermione's wife that bad?
"And I'm just saying… Who really believes that the Veela blood makes Apolline look like that? Erm, cosmetic procedure much?" Ginny continued, gesturing wildly as she emphasised her point.
Hermione tuned Ginny out as she slowly got changed, her head full of thoughts. Fleur thought of being married to Hermione like a death sentence. Sure, they didn't get along, but Hermione didn't think she was that bad! It wasn't even going to be permanent. It was just for the war!
Hermione's view of Fleur continued to sour as her thoughts continued. The blonde couldn't even give her a fair chance of working with her.
"And are we even sure that the French accents are real?" Ginny continued rambling, "I mean, I'm not saying they're faking their accents… I'm just saying I'm skeptical…"
Hermione smoothed down her outfit, turning to face Ginny.
"Bloody hell, Hermione!" Ginny exclaimed, abruptly stopping her rant with a gasp, "You look…"
"Stupid?" Hermione asked nervously.
Hermione was dressed in a black, heavily tailored suit with a white shirt. The suit hugged her body like nothing Hermione had ever really worn before, accentuating her figure. She didn't wear a tie, the top few buttons of her shirt unbuttoned rakishly instead, revealing the hint of her collarbones and upper chest. She was now even taller, the suit paired with black heels far higher than anything Hermione was used to.
Ginny opened and shut her mouth a few times, stunned. She looked Hermione up and down several times, her eyes widening.
"You look hot, 'Mione," Ginny said finally, her eyebrows raising. Hermione pleasantly shivered at the words.
"I… I don't know what to do with my hair or makeup, though," Hermione admitted nervously.
Ginny clapped her hands together excitedly.
"Say no more! At least my lie to mum about helping you with your hair will be true now!"
It was early afternoon when Ginny had finally found a hair style Hermione felt comfortable with— her hair out and cascading gently down just past her shoulders. Ginny had tamed her curls nicely though; Hermione had never seen them so controlled. There wasn't any frizz to be seen and her hair was looking shiny and healthy.
For makeup, Hermione had insisted on simple— Ginny had complied for the most part. Natural looking makeup that just accentuated her natural features, some subtle winged eyeliner. But Ginny had insisted— rather aggressively in Hermione's opinion— that she wear some bright red lipstick.
Hermione had to hand it to Ginny, the lipstick wasn't a bad touch. She admired herself in the mirror. She was grateful for Tonks for opening her eyes to the fact that she didn't have to fit into the classic cookie-cutter mould of what a woman should wear to a wedding.
Ginny herself had tied her wild red hair into an elegant bun at the base of her neck and donned an emerald green gown that showed off her freckled shoulders. She did her makeup in a similarly understated way, settling on a natural looking pink lipstick for herself.
Getting ready for the wedding with Ginny was doing wonders for settling Hermione's jangling nerves and sour mood. They talked idly about everything and nothing as they finished off their preparations. Ginny had a confidence in herself that Hermione wished she had. She had her own stash of makeup and seemed very experienced in doing her hair in a number of ways. It made Hermione feel less hopeless having her help. Ginny even shared some of her perfume with Hermione — a curious warm, spicy scent. As Hermione dabbed some on her wrists and at the juncture where her jaw met her neck, she hoped it would somehow fill her with some of Ginny's bold self-assurance.
By the time both girls descended downstairs, most of the guests had already arrived. Molly was bustling around wildly, pushing plates into people's hands, barking orders at passing Weasleys, wiping sweat off her brow.
"Wow, looking good, 'Mione!" Harry commented, walking up to Hermione. He opted against his bottle green dress robes, instead wearing a simple Muggle charcoal suit with an emerald green tie. Ron, thankfully, was wearing the same. Hermione was quietly thankful at this fact.
"Fred and George gifted us a couple of suits," Ron explained, pulling at his lapels and preening, "Makes the old dress robes look pretty shit, doesn't it?"
"Yeah, these suits are the thing that made your old dress robes look shit," Ginny replied sarcastically.
Ron scowled at the memory of his tattered frilly dress robes.
"Wotcher," Hermione heard suddenly in her ear.
She turned around to find Tonks standing before her, decked out in a green suit. Her hair was purple and short and she wore black lipstick.
"Going for subtle again, I see," Hermione greeted. Tonks smirked back.
"Thanks. You clean up well! The suit looks even better with the makeup, Hermione," Tonks complimented. Hermione smiled awkwardly. Something about compliments from other women always made her so uncomfortable in a way she couldn't put her finger on.
"You look smart, Hermione," Molly complimented, before shooing the group, "Now you lot get outside, we aren't far off starting."
Hermione felt her stomach drop violently and her palms suddenly drench themselves with sweat.
"Come on, come on," Tonks said encouragingly, moving behind Hermione to steer her by the shoulders. Harry, Ron and Ginny flanking her, Hermione allowed herself to be led outside into the sunshine.
It was a gorgeous afternoon and the grounds of The Burrow were full of people. The Weasley's scraggly lawns had never looked so tidy and elegant. Hermione recognised a number of professors from Hogwarts, Luna Lovegood, as well as a large amount of people she didn't know. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, standing around ornate tables.
Some were obviously Fleur's relatives, dressed in fashionable clothes, beautiful and blonde haired.
Others were evidently Ministry officials, dressed in formal looking robes and talking animatedly to Arthur Weasley.
Hermione's eyes scanned the crowd, falling on Apolline Delacour. She was already most of the way through a large glass of wine, frowning.
"Yeah, Madame Delacour is drunk already," Tonks commented in Hermione's ear, "Like, awkwardly drunk for this early at a wedding. She's not exactly in a cheery mood either, so I'd steer clear of her if I were you."
Hermione rolled her eyes.
Fine, drink yourself into a stupor because I'm not the ideal fake partner for your daughter, Hermione thought to herself darkly, So overdramatic.
Hermione was nervous enough without allowing herself the headspace to return to the Delacours disliking her.
She knew they had invited a good amount of people in order to make it well known that the wedding had taken place, but she hadn't thought the crowd would be quite this big. She had pictured the Order and maybe a couple of other people.
"You okay, 'Mione?" Harry asked, looking at her with a surprising level of perception.
"Just… Just nervous," Hermione admitted, looking around all the faces dotted around the grounds of the Burrow, "But it's a bit too late to back out now, I suppose."
"You'll be fine," Tonks said, massaging Hermione's shoulders with her hands, "Besides, marrying a pretty lass? There's worse sacrifices to make."
Hermione's throat felt dry.
Luna Lovegood appeared in front of the small group, beside her a rather hippie-like man. He had long dirty blonde hair like Luna, but a short and scruffy beard to match. He was dressed in bright purple robes, a formal wizard's hat on his head, made of the same bright purple material. Around his neck, Hermione noticed a silver chain with a curious pendant, a triangle a circle and a line all together. Most striking, however, were his eyes— a light blue that seemed almost pastel.
Luna bobbed her head in the quirky way she did, looking at Hermione with both a total and lack of attention that unnerved the brunette. She'd never quite been able to puzzle out the Ravenclaw. Half the time she thought she was a flaky eccentric with her head in the clouds, other times she thought Luna was strangely astute.
"Good afternoon, Hermione," Luna greeted, "I did not know you were involved with Fleur, but it is so wondrous to be invited to your special day. I didn't pick you for the whirlwind romance type."
Hermione froze, unsure of how to respond. As far as she knew, Luna's family were not in the Order and wouldn't know it was a visa marriage. Time for the first lie.
"Yeah, well, Fleur brings out the spontaneous side of Hermione," Tonks interjected, filling the silence that had begun to stretch out.
"A side we never knew she had," Ron joined in with a large smirk, earning a sharp elbow from Hermione.
Luna, if suspicious, didn't show it. Instead she inclined her head slowly.
"Well, I'm very happy we can help you with your ceremony," Luna responded, "This is my father, Xenophilius Lovegood."
At the introduction, Xenophilius abruptly bowed. His bow was so deep and dramatic that it reminded Hermione awfully of the film depiction of Willy Wonka.
"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Granger," Xenophilius greeted upon righting himself, "When I was ordained as a minister, I always hoped to carry out a good number of same sex marriages."
Hermione fought to suppress a blush. It still made her feel incredibly strange that everyone would now assume she was interested in women in that way.
"Erm, excellent," Hermione replied weakly, mustering a feeble smile.
Thankfully, the conversation with Luna and her father was cut short as very soon Molly was out and ushering everyone into her seats. Hermione was instructed to stand at the back before walking up the aisle to join her bridesmaid and brides men at the front.
Hermione nervously shifted in her heels as everyone began to organise themselves into position for the actual ceremony. She was feeling a little lightheaded and her stomach was doing somersaults.
Ron hung back, standing beside her.
Growing more agitated as every second ticked closer to marrying a woman who loathed her, Hermione turned to scowl at her red-headed friend.
"What are you doing back here, Ron?" Hermione all but snapped.
Ron, oblivious as always, offered her a lopsided smile.
"Well, ya know, it's your wedding day and all," Ron shrugged casually, seeming impervious to Hermione's harsh gaze, "I know it's not really… you know… But I figure it must still be pretty shit that your parents can't be here all the same."
Hermione's mouth fell open at the strange show of empathy from a boy who usually had the emotional range of a teaspoon.
"Anyway," Ron said, rubbing the back of his neck, "I thought maybe it'd be nice if you had someone that cared about you walking you down the aisle. I know a mate walking you down is hardly the same as your dad, but…"
Hermione was touched. Ron had all but accepted Harry into his own family, orphaned as he was and stuck with the abusive Dursleys. Now here Ron was, stepping in to make sure Hermione didn't feel the weight of her own missing family. As clueless as Ron could be, he really did surprise her at times with his compassion.
"Oh, Ron!" Hermione sniffled, throwing her arms around the redhead's broad shoulders.
Surprised, and looking a little alarmed, Ron hugged her back.
All of a sudden, some stuffy music began to fill their ears. Hermione, for a moment, felt her stomach object. For the briefest of moments, she was convinced she would throw up on Ron's dress shoes. But then the moment of panicked nausea passed, and she tried to fix her mind to the task at hand.
This shouldn't be scarier than facing a basilisk, Hermione thought to herself, furrowing her brows.
Ron took Hermione's hand, tucking it into his arm. This snapped Hermione out of her panic and she tightened her jaw, resolved to carry out her duty.
Hermione was relieved to have a friend at her side as she walked up the aisle slowly. She felt the weight of everyone's eyes on her. Judging, scrutinising… Even though she wouldn't be back at Hogwarts this year, she was sure it would make headlines amongst the school gossips.
As they reached the end of the aisle, Hermione came to a stop in front of Xenophilius and Ron released her.
"You've got this, 'Mione," Ron muttered in her ear.
Once again, Hermione was surprised by Ron's thoughtfulness. Though she supposed the pigheaded accidentally offensive comments would come after the ceremony when he had imbibed some of the wine and beer on offer.
Xenophilius shot Hermione a supportive smile, his light blue eyes sparkling.
There was shuffling as heads turned to look at the end of the aisle again. Hermione turned around, a nervous lump growing in her dry throat.
What Hermione saw at the end of the aisle made her clenched jaw slacken instantly.
Fleur Delacour was radiant.
She was dressed in an expensive, traditional wedding dress. It hugged her figure perfectly and flowed to the ground into a long train. Fleur was without a veil, but it was a good choice, as her hair had never looked more healthy and shimmering. Hermione wondered if there was some Veela magic at play with the way Fleur's hair shone and glittered in the afternoon sun.
Fleur's face, which Hermione had grown accustomed to seeing in a cold and supercilious sneer, was relaxed and smiling sweetly. She had also gone understated with her makeup, her lips a pretty shade of pink.
Hermione felt almost hypnotised as Fleur slowly walked up the aisle. She walked alone, but it was as if even the crowd in their seats were no longer there. The only person Hermione could see was Fleur.
Hermione couldn't help but rake her gaze up and down Fleur as she made it to stand in front of her. Fleur shot her a dazzling smile. Her deep blue eyes roamed over Hermione with approval, causing a not unpleasant twinge within the brunette.
Wow… Hermione thought, dazed.
She'd never been on the receiving end of a warm smile from Fleur. It was… strange. It made Hermione feel oddly good, in an almost giddy way.
Hermione's thoughts were curtailed as Apolline Delacour loudly sobbed.
The sourness instantly returned to Hermione's mood as she shot an unimpressed look at the half-Veela matriarch sobbing in the front row.
"Welcome," Xenophilius began, "To this celebration of passionate young love…"
Hermione could scarcely keep up with Xenophilius' words, her attention returning to Fleur. If she didn't know that Fleur was actually a dreadful ice queen, she could almost mistake her for an angel.
Before she could comprehend it, Xenophilius had already got to the climax of the ceremony. Hermione's eyes shot up as Fleur stepped forward, reaching out her impeccably manicured hands in front of her. Hermione noticed a large engagement ring on Fleur's ring finger that had not been there previously.
Clearing her throat awkwardly, Hermione reached out and took Fleur's hands in her own. They were warm and soft in her own. Hermione was suddenly incredibly self conscious of her clammy hands. Hermione looked up, locking eyes with Fleur. There, she could finally see the icy depths of Fleur's real feelings. The blonde may be smiling sweetly, but her eyes did not look happy in the slightest.
Fleur hid it well as she repeated her vows after Xenophilius, her voice convincingly tender and cocking her head to one side as she looked at Hermione, speaking of a wild love between them that had never existed.
Hermione's voice sounded hollow and empty as she repeated her own lines after Xenophilius.
"I promise to love you perpetually, appreciate you forever, and protect you always," Hermione said, ignoring the flicker of a scornful sneer in Fleur's face.
It doesn't matter, I just need to get through this, Hermione urged herself on.
But her anxiety was reaching dizzying heights as Xenophilius led them further through the ritial. To promises, to sliding a ring up Fleur's delicate finger.
"Fleur Isabelle Delacour, do you take Hermione Jean Granger as your lawful wedded wife?"
Hermione shut her eyes briefly, squeezing them shut, as Fleur assented.
"Hermione Jean Granger, do you take Fleur Isabelle Delacour as your lawful wedded wife?" Xenophilius prompted.
Hermione opened her eyes, feeling like she was hyperventilating. Fleur narrowed her pretty eyes at her as the silence extended.
Apolline Delacour continued to sob in the front row.
Once she said this, there was no going back.
"I- I do," Hermione rasped, as Fleur squeezed her hands forcefully.
Xenophilius, apparently oblivious to Hermione's trepidation, smiled widely.
"I now pronounce you—"
"Wait," Hermione murmured quickly, only loud enough for Xenophilius and Fleur to hear, a great panic beginning to break loose within her. Her heart was thumping in her chest and she felt her stomach roil fearfully.
Fleur didn't give Hermione a chance to continue, lurching forward suddenly. She reached a hand roughly behind Hermione's head, her manicured nails scratching the brunette's neck. In a split second, she had pulled Hermione into a searing kiss.
"Wife and wife!" Xenophilius finished, looking at the two with surprise, "Well look at that! Young love, eh?!'
Hermione scarcely heard Xenophilius. She felt like someone had hooked her up to some Muggle electrical mains. A wild current rocked through her as Fleur deepened the kiss between them, slipping her tongue into Hermione's mouth.
All the panicked thoughts that had been crowding Hermione's brain disappeared in an instant as for once in her life— instinct overtook her brain. Her hands moved to rest at Fleur's hips, pulling the blonde into her arms as they continued to kiss.
She let her tongue slide against Fleur's, enjoying the pleasant lurches this produced in her stomach.
Then it was over, Fleur pulled away and smiled widely at the guests, reminding Hermione that they were in fact, not alone. Fleur reached for her hand, Hermione holding it tightly as she led them back down the aisle, waving sheepishly at the guests.
As they got to the end of the aisle, Fleur leaned close to Hermione, her hot breath tickling Hermione's ear.
"You idiot, you almost ruined the whole thing!" Fleur hissed under her breath, "If you don't pull yourself together, we're never going to sell this."
Like a cold bucket of water had been dumped over her, Hermione snapped out of her daze.
"Perhaps if you controlled that nasty smirk of yours, I wouldn't be struggling so much," Hermione countered, plastering a false smile across her face as she drew an arm around Fleur for a photograph.
Whether Fleur didn't have the energy to bicker, or whether she was simply re-committing to the act, Fleur went silent, smiling broadly as a photographer continued to snap their picture.
Hermione suppressed her strong urge to scowl at the blonde as they were trotted around the grounds of the Burrow like show-ponies, posing for couple photos together. The worst was when they had to press their foreheads together and Hermione's eyes locked with Fleur's disdainful gaze.
The sooner this visa arrangement is over and done with, the better, Hermione inwardly fumed.
It was with great relief that they were finally released to go and sit at the bridal table for drinks.
On reaching the table, Hermione instantly dropped Fleur's hand and threw herself heavily into her seat with a sigh.
"How were photos?" Ginny asked from across the table with a coy grin, "They looked pretty romantic from here."
Hermione gritted her teeth, for the other tables were seated far too closely for her to be honest.
"They were fantastic, thanks," Hermione lied, inwardly cursing Ginny with every name she could think of, "I'm feeling a bit tired though. Might even have to turn in early."
"Oh nonsense!" Arthur Weasley boomed, appearing beside the table, "You only get married once— Hopefully, anyway— Am I right?"
Arthur mopped his sweaty bald patch with a hanky and elbowed a man beside him.
"Right you are, Arthur," chuckled the man beside him. He looked very official, in pinstriped dress robes and with an impeccably groomed moustache.
"Oh how rude of me," Arthur said a little too casually, "This is a colleague I've recently become friends with at the Ministry, James Cashew. What department do you work in again, James?"
"Immigration," James answered with a friendly grin.
Arthur gave the table a pointed look.
Fleur smiled broadly, instantly leaning over and putting her hand on Hermione's thigh. Hermione felt a weird tingling at the manicured hand resting in her lap.
"Charmed to meet you," Fleur purred. Hermione inwardly groaned, wondering if Fleur was releasing some of her part-Veela thrall to charm the immigration official.
"Nice to meet you two as well," James replied, "Arthur says you're like a daughter to him, Hermione. He's invited so many of us Ministry colleagues from immigration to join in your special day! Very odd, but very lovely all the same."
Hermione mentally cursed Mr. Weasley. In trying to make the wedding seem more legitimate, he had missed the mark— sailing so far pass the mark in fact— by inviting a heap of people he vaguely knew from the Ministry. Could Mr. Weasley be more transparent? Inviting an immigration official to witness a marriage between a French magical national and a British one?
"How kind of him," Fleur said in a voice that didn't really sound like she approved at all. Hermione wondered if she thought Mr. Weasley's move was similarly transparent.
"Very," James chuckled, "Now if you'll excuse me, Arthur where are the bathrooms here?"
Fleur's fingers clenched on Hermione's thigh and she suppressed a yelp at the manicured nails digging into her skin through her trousers.
"Follow me," Fleur hissed into Hermione's ear.
"Ah, excuse us, too!" Hermione yelped, hastily getting up from her chair, "We will see you on the dance floor no doubt!"
Fleur took Hermione's hand, tugging her through the crowd while smiling politely at guests. As they broke away from the throngs of guests and headed closer to the house, Hermione turned to Fleur.
"What is it?" Hermione asked, not even trying to hide the displeasure in her tone.
"Are you kidding?!" Fleur replied incredulously, "That buffoon Arthur Weasley has only gone and invited immigration co-workers to his son's friend's wedding?! Could he be any more obvious?!"
"Well, I don't see what we can do about it now," Hermione replied, prickling at Fleur referring to Mr. Weasley as a 'buffoon.'
"Well, thank god one of us can think on our feet," Fleur retorted derisively, "We have to make it to the bathrooms before James Cashew."
They breached the threshold of the Burrow, their respective heels echoing loudly on the wooden floors of the empty farmhouse.
"Why?" Hermione replied, failing to understand how a bathroom could rectify how suspicious Mr. Weasley had made the nuptials appear.
They stopped in front of the downstairs bathroom and Fleur wrenched the door open, pulling Hermione in roughly by the hand.
"To get caught in the act," Fleur said impatiently, "Now get on your knees."
"WHAT?!" Hermione yelped.
"Ugh! Not for real, you fool!" Fleur snapped at her, "Do you want to help The Order or not? Just get on your knees, I'll hitch up my dress, and then when he bursts in here he will think he has caught us in the middle of something."
"Oh… er, right," Hermione replied. It was mortifying, truly. But surely the stiff immigration official would hardly expect people to fake a sexual interaction for the sake of a visa.
Hermione stood in front of Fleur for a moment, their eyes meeting in a steely momentary truce.
"Wait, why do I have to be on my knees? Why can't you—"
"As if!" Fleur cut off conceitedly, "Besides, this dress is far too expensive for me to be kneeling in some farmhouse bathroom. Just get down, he'll be here any minute."
Audibly grumbling about snobby Frenchwomen, Hermione reluctantly got down on her knees in front of Fleur— unable to think of a better plan in the moment.
Fleur pulled up the front of her dress quickly. Hermione was momentarily stunned by the creamy toned legs slowly being revealed for her before Fleur hooked a leg over her shoulder, pulling her in with an expensive heel digging into Hermione's back. Hermione was unceremoniously wrenched in until her face was almost touching white lace.
Hermione blinked, realising the white lace was the front of Fleur's underwear. Her face burned up and Hermione desperately hoped Fleur could not feel how red her cheeks were against her thigh. She screwed her eyes shut, feeling her stomach squirm strangely in a way she wasn't sure she enjoyed.
There was the sound of the door opening before Fleur let out a theatric gasp.
"Oh! Dear Heavens!" shouted the awkward voice of James Cashew, "I- I am so very sorry ladies! The d-door was unlocked!"
The door slammed again quickly and Fleur released her hold on Hermione.
Hermione tore herself away from the blonde, getting back up to her feet with great speed. She cleared her throat, more than aware that her cheeks were likely still blushing.
Fleur pulled her dress back down and smoothed it, not even bothering to look at Hermione. Before Hermione could even say anything, Fleur opened the door to the bathroom, stepping out gracefully.
"Mon dieu," Fleur exclaimed dramatically, "I am so sorry Mr. Cashew, we thought we had locked the door."
Hermione stepped out to stand beside Fleur, her face still feeling too hot. James Cashew was waiting awkwardly for the bathroom, intently looking anywhere but at Fleur and Hermione.
"Er, it's quite all right," James spluttered, looking incredibly uncomfortable, "I… Erm… Should have knocked anyway."
"Non, non, non!" Fleur said graciously, waving a hand as if it were nothing, "It is all our fault. My Hermione— mon amour— She is just so passionate you know? We really should learn to restrain ourselves."
If it were possible for Hermione to feel more mortified, she did. Hermione was now the one pointedly looking anywhere but at Fleur or James.
"Ah, we should go…" Hermione said, incredibly eager to leave the uncomfortable situation.
James could only muster an awkward half-wave, practically running into the bathroom and swiftly locking the door behind him.
Hermione exhaled, walking back towards outside as fast as she could. Fleur fell into step beside her.
"Did you have to say it was my idea to fool around in a bathroom?!" Hermione muttered as soon as they were safely far away from others. She was thoroughly nettled with how embarrassing the whole debacle had been.
Fleur scoffed derisively.
"Who cares? He clearly believed we are together in that way if he got that uncomfortable," Fleur replied dismissively, "It was necessary in order to keep suspicion off us."
They continued walking across the clipped lawns back towards the guests. Hermione took the opportunity to scowl while she could.
"I care!" Hermione replied hotly, "That was so embarrassing! I would never do anything like that!"
"Don't blame me for your boring real life," Fleur drawled, "Besides, if your only sacrifice to the Order is a little embarrassment, count yourself lucky. Some of us have to sacrifice a great deal more."
This only served to irritate Hermione further. She was sick to death of Fleur acting like a martyr for having to marry her.
"Nobody in the Order said anything about having to simulate oral sex in a bathroom!" Hermione hissed as they approached the guests, "Besides, the real sacrifice is having to pretend to be besotted with you!"
Fleur didn't get time to react to the slight as they rejoined the party-goers. Instead she had to fasten a broad smile on her face as if it was the best day of her life. Hermione got a mean-spirited kick out of it, knowing that the Frenchwoman would have loved nothing more than to hit back with a barbed comment.
"Oh good, there you two are!" Tonks exclaimed, bustling clumsily through two elderly women and causing them to spill their cups of tea.
"What is it?" Fleur replied. To Hermione's satisfaction, it seemed like Fleur was barely keeping the irritation out of her voice.
"It's time for speeches!" Tonks replied cheerily.
"Speeches?" Hermione echoed hollowly. Her stomach sank.