Word Count: 2936

Warnings: NA

The Best Man

"You look stunning," he murmured, a small smile on his face. "Theo won't know what's hit him."

She blushed prettily, arranging the many layers of the skirt of her dress to fall elegantly around her. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, her eyes shifting to the clock every few seconds.

Minutes of being Hermione Granger were all she had left. Soon, she would be Hermione Nott, wife of Theodore Nott.

"Are you ready for this?" Harry asked solicitously, double checking his own appearance in the mirror.

Hermione almost scoffed at him when he pulled a face at his terminally messy hair, running a hand through it in a pointless attempt at control.

Instead, she nodded her head, her veil tickling her bare shoulders as she did.

"I'll give your father a shout, and hunt Ginny and Luna down. Bloody bridesmaids," he added, rolling his eyes. "If you ever get married again, promise me you won't have bridesmaids."

Hermione giggled. "I'm not intending to repeat this experience, Harry. It's been painful enough this time around."

Harry chuckled, nodding his head as he left the room.

Hermione sighed. She didn't know how she would have gotten through the planning of her wedding—which Theo had insisted on being the event of the year—without Harry.

Wayward bridesmaids had been the least of her worries, but Harry had been an angel, always there with a cocktail or a doughnut, a smile or a joke.

As her father walked into the room, tears welling in his eyes as he took in the vision his daughter made, she offered up a bright smile.

It was time to get married.

…

"You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence, if you do not mention, when questioned, something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. You have the right to…"

Hermione watched on with growing horror as her groom was pulled from the church in handcuffs, fighting against the police holding him as they read him his rights.

As her legs threatened to collapse from under her, a strong arm wrapped around her waist, holding her up.

It took her a few moments, but the familiar, comforting cologne told her that Harry was holding her up, as the whispers around the church gained volume with every passing second.

She could feel the eyes of everyone in the room burning into her; something that she should be feeling for an entirely different reason.

"Come on, sweetheart," Harry whispered in her ear, pulling her to the side, off the dias and into a small antichamber. As soon as they were out of view of the guests, Hermione fell apart in Harry's arms, tears leaving streak marks through her perfectly applied makeup, her happiness for the day forgotten.

"Why was he arrested?" she hiccuped. "What's he supposed to have done?"

Harry stroked her hair softly, a sigh escaping him. "Possession with the intent to supply. I don't know any more than that."

Hermione shook her head against Harry's chest. "Theo isn't a drug dealer! I would have known, Harry, I would… I would've known!"

"I don't know, darling, any more than you do right now. I'll go and get your mum and dad, and see what I can find out for you, okay?"

"We'll sort it out, Hermione. Just… try and stay calm, okay?"

…

Harry shook his head with disbelief. "How am I supposed to tell Hermione that?" He asked, though it was a rhetorical question, because he knew he would have to.

Draco shrugged slightly, a sympathetic expression on his face. "Honestly? I've no idea. This is going to break her."

"Not if I can help it," Harry vowed. "Theo better hope he gets prison time," he added darkly, his eyes almost crackling with anger.

"With the amount of product they found in his storage container, I don't think there's a chance he'll get anything but prison time," Draco assured Harry. "From what I've found out, Theo is actually one of the most prolific dealers in London and the surrounding areas. He's the one that deals to the smaller dealers that are out on the street."

"Fucking hell," Harry muttered, rubbing a hand over his temple. "How didn't we spot this? We all wondered where he was getting the money to fund the wedding. I mean, I know you pay well, Draco but…"

Draco nodded his agreement, taking a sip from his whiskey. Harry stared at the glass longingly for a moment. He'd do almost anything to take the edge off with a stiff drink at the moment, but Hermione was waiting for him.

"I assumed he'd inherited when his father died," Draco said quietly. "I had no idea he was doing anything like this, Harry, I swear I didn't. It's… unconscionable."

Harry stood up, patting Draco on the shoulder. "I don't blame you for any of this. Let me know if you hear anything else, okay?"

"Of course," Draco agreed, patting Harry's back. "Look after Hermione."

Harry offered up a small, tired smile. "Always."

…

"Bit of a difference, isn't it?"

Harry blinked, confused for a second, before he caught up. Hermione had changed out of her wedding gown in the time he'd been away, and was instead wearing a tracksuit and slouchy boots, all the makeup washed from her face, and her hair had been pulled up in a messy ponytail.

Harry could still see marks on her cheeks, which meant she'd shed more tears after washing.

"You still look stunning," he replied, walking further into the room. "Do you want to know what I've found out, or do you just want the spark notes?"

"Spark notes," Hermione decided after a moment. "I'll want to know everything at some point, but right now… I don't know if I can handle it."

"Theo is a somewhat prolific drug dealer," Harry said, twisting his lips slightly. "From what Draco said, it's almost definitely going to end with a prison sentence."

Hermione shook her head. "How did I not know?"

"He was very good at keeping his two lives separated," he told her quietly. "None of us knew, it wasn't just you he fooled, darling."

"I feel like an idiot," she admitted, wiping her face impatiently as more tears fell down her cheeks.

"That is the very last thing anyone could describe you as," Harry argued. "Come on. We'll go home, get drunk, watch shit tv, and relax. I think after today, we both need it."

Hermione smiled slightly, a little sadly. "Not quite the wedding night that I anticipated, but… that sounds like just what I need. What would I do without you?"

As they left the hotel room, Hermione's bag in Harry's hand, his other arm around her shoulders, Harry replied, "You'll never have to find out. I'll call Ginny in the morning and have her come with me to your flat to collect some stuff. My spare room is yours for as long as you want it."

Hermione frowned. "Where is she? I lost track of her from the church, but she was already half drunk then."

"Oh, she's probably half naked somewhere in public as we speak," he replied, airily, leading her to the car.

He opened the passenger door for her as she let out a weak chuckle. He'd help her through this. She'd been his rock for so many years, it was time for him to return the favour.

…

"He's been remanded," Draco informed him crisply. "From what his lawyer said, he's copping a plea deal. He'll plead guilty and get six to eight years instead of ten to twelve."

Harry glanced over at the sofa, where Hermione was sleeping. He'd had to take her wine glass from her hand so she didn't spill the remnants over herself, but now that she was finally asleep, he was loath to wake her up by moving her to the bed.

She'd been awake most of the night, crying and ranting intermittently, and had only fallen asleep as the sun broke the horizon.

"That's… something, I suppose. I'm going to get hold of Ginny in a few hours, have her help me get some of Hermione's stuff from the flat. I don't want her going back there alone for the moment. Who knows what kind of people Theo associated with, or even enemies of his. It's not safe for her there."

"It's a good idea," Draco replied. "You should probably phone the police station first though, check that you're even allowed to remove anything. I assume that they're going to search the place for any corroborating evidence at some point."

Harry swore softly. "I didn't think of that, I'll do that first. Thanks, Draco."

"Of course. I'll call you later, once I have an update."

Ending the call, Harry quietly slipped out of the doors onto the veranda. It was warm out already, no matter how early it was. Harry couldn't quite bring himself to appreciate the weather the way he usually did.

Now that the initial shock was wearing off, and his innate need to look after Hermione had been taken care of, Harry could feel the familiar stirrings of righteous anger.

He was angry at Theo for betraying Hermione so thoroughly, for hurting her, for not being the man that she deserved.

But he was angrier at himself, for not noticing what Theo was doing, for not seeing who he was, for not stopping Hermione from being hurt.

He was angry at the world for every last tear that had spilled from Hermione's eyes.

She was a wonderful woman, bright, caring, intelligent and beautiful both inside and out. She was funny, she was kind. She was warm.

Harry loved her wholly and completely. He'd been half in love with her since the very first day they met, though he'd long accepted his relegation to the best friend position.

He only ever wanted her happiness. His own was secondary and much less important to him.

And he was happy, even just having her in his life. It was enough to be her best friend.

Turning to look over his shoulder at her, Harry sighed. She was paler than usual, and she looked so small, curled up as she was on the sofa. She looked… vulnerable.

Silently promising himself—and her—that he'd do anything to put the colour back in her cheeks and the smile back on her face, Harry entered the flat, locking the veranda doors, and settled himself into the armchair, letting his eyes fall shut.

…

Hermione settled herself on the sofa, falling to the side so she was leaning into Harry. Pulling her legs up, she tilted her head to offer him a small smile.

It had been three weeks since her almost wedding, and she'd never realised quite how much she needed Harry Potter before. He'd been her rock, her angel, her comfort, and at times, her punching bag.

No matter how much she cried, screamed, raged—and at one point threw a wine glass—he'd remained by her side, unwavering and strong.

"What do you want to watch?" He asked, lifting his arm to rest around her so she could cuddle closer into his side.

"Dirty Dancing," she replied promptly, making him groan. She giggled as he tickled her side.

"We've watched that movie every single night this week. How many times can you drool over Patrick Swayze before you get bored?"

"You pick a movie then," she huffed, poking his side none-too-gently.

Harry rolled his eyes, before, with a few clicks on the remote, the opening bars of Be My Baby sounded in the living room.

"Thank you," Hermione murmured, her head falling back against his shoulder.

"Hmm," Harry huffed. "Tomorrow, we're watching zombies."

…

"You look gorgeous," Harry complimented, gathering his car keys off the table.

Hermione blushed slightly, but smiled her thanks. They were heading out for dinner and then onto a club with their friends, and she was nervous. It was the first time she's been out since before the wedding.

"Why are you driving?" She asked, glancing over at Harry.

He looked fantastic, and as he bent down to straighten his jean leg, she couldn't help but admire the fantastic view of his bum. "We can get a cab so that you can have a drink."

"Ahh, I, uh…"

"You're not drinking because of me," she surmised, eyeing him shrewdly as he stood up and turned to face her, a sheepish expression on his face.

"Well, I thought someone should probably stay sober; you know, just in case."

"I'm not going to fall apart, Harry," she promised, walking forwards to take his hand in hers. "I love that you want to look after me, but really, I'm doing okay. The police probably helped me dodge a massive bullet by arresting Theo before we got married.

Harry nodded. That was one thing he could definitely agree with.

"So, we'll take a cab, and you'll get pleasantly plastered with me, and we'll have a good night. Yes?"

Smiling, Harry pressed a kiss to her cheek before he pointedly dropped his car keys onto the table. "Deal. I love you, pretty girl."

"I love you too."

…

They fell into the flat together, giggling as they did so. Harry had the presence of mind to lock up behind them before he collapsed beside Hermione onto the sofa.

Glancing at the clock on the wall, he groaned. It was just past three in the morning.

They'd had a brilliant night, though, and Harry had enjoyed watching Hermione let loose and have fun, much closer to the girl he remembered.

"Thank you," she whispered suddenly, breaking into Harry's hazy thoughts. He looked over at her, raising his eyebrows.

"F'what?"

"Bein' you," she replied. "Sh'd've jus' married you. Not Theo. Theo is. An arsehole. You're… perfec'."

She hiccuped on the last word, and Harry chuckled.

"You're drunk. Come on, babycakes, bedtime."

Harry stood with only a little trouble and then pulled Hermione to her feet, leading her to her bedroom. Leaving her there to get ready for bed, he walked to the kitchen, drinking a pint of water quickly, before he poured a second and took the glass with him back to her room.

Knocking briefly, and checking that she was decent, Harry entered the room and put the glass of water onto her bedside table.

Hermione sat up in the bed, latching onto his hand and pulled him towards her with surprising strength.

Before he could stop her, she pressed her lips to his in a sloppy—and somewhat uncoordinated—kiss.

"Hermione, stop," Harry murmured, pulling his head back. "We can't do this."

Unbuttoning his shirt with clumsy fingers, Hermione looked up at him through heavy lidded eyes. "Who told you that?"

"We've had too much to drink," he warned her gently, tugging her hands away from his buttons. "You'll regret it in the morning if we cross the line."

"Nope," she disagreed, nipping at his chin with her teeth. "I love you."

Harry shifted away from her, knowing that if he didn't, his resolve—which wasn't very strong to begin with—would break.

"Hermione, please," he begged. "Not now, not like this. Get some sleep, sweetheart."

Before she could protest again, or reach for him, Harry left the room and closed the door softly behind himself. He leant back against the wall and let out a gust of air.

Shaking his head, he directed himself to his own bedroom. He would do anything for Hermione, but he wouldn't be her rebound. He couldn't fix her by destroying himself.

…

Harry was slouched on the sofa in a tracksuit, idly flipping through the channels on the tv when Hermione got up the following morning.

Well. Afternoon, as it was closer to one than twelve when she entered the living room.

Without looking away from the tv, Harry raised his arm to gesture to her to come and sit with him, and as she settled against him, he kissed her temple.

"Hangover?" He asked, a teasing lilt to his tone.

"From hell," Hermione confirmed. "I… I'm sorry. For last night. It was wrong of me to put you in that position."

Harry smiled and squeezed her gently. "It's not that I wasn't tempted, babe. I just… I can't be your rebound. It would… destroy everything. I love you too much to let that happen."

"I don't want a rebound," Hermione replied quietly. "I just… when I was with Theo, I thought I was happy. Now, living here with you, I know I wasn't. Not really. You make me feel safe and secure and loved. You make me happy. I just… I guess I was trying to show you that but I picked a really shit time to do it."

"I do love you," Harry confirmed. "Maybe we could try that kiss again, without the aid of alcohol, huh?"

Hermione smiled, but then stood up, making Harry frown.

"Maybe after I've thrown up and brushed my teeth," she muttered, a pained expression on her face as she fled down the hall towards the bathroom.

Seconds later, Harry heard her retching, and chuckled to himself. He pushed himself up off the sofa, and headed to the kitchen to make himself useful and get her a glass of water for when she was done.

Stroking her back while she threw up, and holding her hair off her face, he couldn't help but think that, if she was still the most beautiful woman in the world to him like this—and she was—then they'd be just fine.