Ron! What are you doing here? And why are you sitting in the dark?" Hermione asked, more puzzled by his choice to linger in the shadows than by his unexpected presence in her home.
Ron's eye twitched in frustration. "What am I doing here? What are you doing here?"
She frowned, thoroughly confused. "I live here, Ronald."
"Not you!" he snapped, his voice laced with frustration. "Him." His icy glare cut to the blonde standing protectively in front of her.
Draco's face broke into a smirk that Hermione recognized all too well. He leaned in closer, relishing the tension. "Well, if you must know, Weasel, I happen to be Granger's fiancé."
Hermione couldn't see his expression in the dim light, but she could practically feel the smug grin radiating from his face- she knew it could make even the most level-headed person want to throttle him.
Ron's expression contorted with disgust, and he spat out, "You're marrying that bastard?"
Hermione flinched at the raw venom in his voice. "Ron, just-"
But Draco's arm tightened around her waist, a firm hand curling at her hip and firmly gripping the fabric of her dress, holding her back. She looked up at him in surprise, but his gaze was fixed coldly on Ron's, his eyes narrowing with an unsettling calm.
"Leave, Weasel," Draco said, his voice eerily steady.
"Shut up, Ferret!" Ron retorted, his face reddening with anger.
Hermione rolled her eyes at the ridiculous, supposedly insulting monikers. She tried to wriggle out of Draco's grasp, but he held her firmly, not budging an inch.
"I'll ask you again, Ronald," she said, her tone sharper, "why are you here?"
Ron's hands balled into fists as he glared at Draco. "I came to apologize, alright? And maybe talk some sense into you. But it seems you're too busy with your fiancé," he sneered.
Hermione felt her temper flare, her patience wearing thin. "Talk some sense into me? Are you fucking serious?"
She made to lunge forward, but Draco's grip tightened, keeping her in place. She began to suspect he was holding her back as much for Ron's protection as for her own.
Ron's face contorted with fury. "Can't you see, Hermione? He's got some kind of spell on you! He's probably had to charm every woman he's ever been with to get what he wants!"
Draco's head snapped forward so fast, Hermione got whiplash. His voice dropped to a dangerously low growl. "I may be a prick, but I'm no rapist, Weasley."
Hermione felt a flush of anger rise in her chest, blending embarrassment with frustration. Ron was pushing every button she had.
"Oh, I wouldn't be too sure of that," Ron threw back, his face twisting with animosity.
Draco let out a scoff that was almost pitying, and Hermione saw the way it riled Ron even further. "It must be hard for a hobknocker like you to understand self-restraint around women."
"Hobknocker?" Hermione muttered to herself. Apparently, Ron knew exactly what it meant, and by the look on his face, he was livid.
"Don't you fucking dare!"
Draco's grin widened, baring his teeth in a challenge. "Don't what? Tell you the truth? She came to me all on her own- wandered into my bed and let me fuck-"
"Alright, that's enough, Malfoy!" Hermione hissed, embarrassment coloring her cheeks.
"Oh, I oughtta-" Ron growled, fists clenched as he took a threatening step forward.
"Hit me?" Draco goaded, the challenge sparking in his eyes. "Go on, Weasel. Hit me."
Hermione finally managed to wriggle out of Draco's hold and positioned herself firmly between the two men, arms crossed and gaze deadly. She fixed her eyes on Ron, drawing herself up to her full height in a way that reminded him of just how stubborn she could be.
"Ron, leave. And don't come back until you have a proper apology ready," she snapped.
Ron hesitated, his face a mix of betrayal and fury. Without another word, he turned and stomped out, slamming the door behind him so hard that the frame splintered.
Hermione let out a long sigh, rubbing her temples, before turning to Draco. He was still watching the door with a look of smug satisfaction. When he finally glanced down and saw her glare, his expression faltered.
"What?" he asked, trying to sound innocent.
She gave him a light but stinging thump on the head, which he answered with an annoyed grumble. "Honestly, Granger, we need to talk about your predisposition to violence."
"Who do you think you are, baiting him like that?" she chided shrilly, her voice a mix of exasperation and disbelief.
He shrugged, the smirk returning to his lips. But she noticed a glint in his eyes that almost looked like amusement.
Hermione's hands shook with restrained anger as she clenched them by her sides. "Listen, Draco-"
"Oh, it's Draco again?" he teased, but one look at her expression made him quickly reconsider.
She drew a deep breath, her tone steady but fierce. "I already have enough on my plate with the Ministry, the pregnancy… and you! I don't have time for you to get into petty, pissing matches with Ron or anyone else for that matter. You're supposed to be the mature one here. You're an adult- and soon, a father. Fucking act like it."
For a moment, he just stared at her, seemingly surprised by the strength in her voice. Then, almost as if against his will, a grin crept onto his face.
"Oh, what now?" she snapped, exasperated.
Draco shrugged, looking her over with a smirk that bordered on mischievous. "It's actually kind of a turn-on when you swear."
She groaned, unable to stop the blush from spreading up her neck. "Oh, for the love of Pete!"
"Who's Pete?" he asked dumbly.
"Go home, Malfoy!" Hermione groaned.
"What, no goodnight kiss?" he asked, feigning innocence.
"Out!" she screeched, pointing toward the door as he chuckled.
Grinning, he strolled over to the door, stopping just long enough to throw her an infuriating wink. "See you tomorrow?"
"Don't count on it," she shot back.
Unfazed, he offered her a charming smile. "Goodnight, Granger."
"Whatever."
She slammed the door after him, rolling her eyes even as her lips fought to stay serious.
Hermione stomped all the way to her room grumbling a creative string of expletives that would have made a sailor blush. She kicked off her heels and fell face down on her bed. Rolling onto her back, she took a deep breath, attempting to calm her more-than-necessary irritation and nerves.
As Hermione reflected in the aftermath of the confrontation, she couldn't help but think back over the way Draco had positioned himself in front of her the entire time. At first, she'd found it irritating; she thought he was simply being his usual insufferable self, blocking her, getting in her way. But now, as she replayed the scene in her mind, a realization started to settle in.
He hadn't moved from her side, hadn't shifted even an inch, as though he were a guard stationed between her and the door. Draco hadn't even lashed out right away- his first instinct had been to shield her, not to escalate. It dawned on her that, perhaps without thinking, he'd been protecting her, placing himself as a barrier between her and Ron, who was too heated and hurt to see anything clearly. Though she knew in her heartiest of hearts, Ron would never try to harm her.
A warmth she couldn't ignore welled up in her chest. She knew Draco wasn't some noble knight, his reaction had been rough around the edges, laced with plenty of sarcasm and smugness. And yes, she was still irritated with him for his childish taunts and his infuriatingly smug responses. But this- this unspoken, instinctual protectiveness felt different. It felt… comforting, in a way she hadn't expected. She found it rather endearing, to be honest.
A small, reluctant smile crossed her lips as she acknowledged the truth of it. Draco, despite his flaws, had put her first in that moment, and she found herself forgiving him, only a little.
As her adrenaline wore off, she felt the expected wave of exhaustion hit her. Her limbs and eyelids felt like blocks of lead. With the last of her strength, she peeled off her dress and she shimmied under her down comforter and let her eyes drift shut, blissfully unaware of the pandemonium awaiting her.
The Next Morning
"DRACO LUCIUS MALFOY I swear on SALAZAR if you don't open this door right now!"
Draco grumbled into his pillow and finally, and rather regretfully, extricated himself from the warmth of his bed, stumbled blindly downstairs and to the front door. He opened the door with an agitated and tired swing.
"Blaise, it's seven in the fucking morning," he bit out, eyes still crusted together and barely open.
"What is so bloody important?" he demanded with clear irritation.
Rather than getting a verbal response, a newspaper was thrown at his face. It smacked against his anger-flushed skin, and he grunted. Blaise breezed by him and into the condo, making himself comfortable on the suede sofa.
He peeled the paper from his face and read it through his bleary vision before his stony eyes widened comically.
"So," Blaise started, "When were you planning to tell me about you and Granger?"
His eyes flit back and forth between the smirking Slytherin and the cheesy headline:
War Hero, Hermione Granger, Gets Hot & Heavy With Former Death Eater, Draco Malfoy.
"Fucking Merlin," Draco groaned. "Where'd you find this?"
Blaise snorted. "It's The Prophet, you dunce. It's everywhere. I grabbed it off a stand when I was getting my coffee. What I'm more concerned about is why she has your heirloom ring on her left finger."
"It's a long story," Draco sighed while dragging a hand across his face.
"Are you two engaged?"
Draco nodded, blushing with an uncharacteristically shy look.
"Then it's not that long of a story," Blaise quipped while picking at his cuticles.
Draco trudged over to the armchair opposite his unwelcome guest and fell into the cushions.
"It's a lot more complicated than you think, trust me," he said, trying to rub the remaining sleep from his eyes.
Blaise gave him a look. "Start from the beginning, then."
He sighed again. Blaise might've been an annoying pain in the ass. But he's the closest thing Draco would ever have to a brother and best friend. He could and would trust Blaise with his life if it ever came down to it.
"Alright. Remember that Ministry office party a couple months back?"
Blaise's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Yes... what'd you do?"
"Well, I sort of kinda hooked up with Granger that night..."
Blaise's jaw dropped while, simultaneously, a huge smile split his face. "Is this going where I think it's going?"
"Yep."
"You knocked her up, didn't you?"
"Yep."
"And you asked her to marry you."
"Yep."
Draco had to give him some credit; Blaise was spot on. He eyed his friend carefully.
"You know too much."
"Ah, but that's why you keep me around," Blaise retorted while standing up from the sofa. Draco couldn't even argue with that. He simply glared at him as he made his way over to the kitchen and helped himself to a glass of water.
"Well, have you planned anything yet?"
Draco snorted. "We got 'engaged' yesterday."
"I'm going to be your best man, right?"
Draco rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure... whatever."
Blaise made his way back over to the living area and leaned against the sofa.
"Draco, I have to ask... does this union relate to your family's current financial situation."
Draco didn't say anything.
Blaise frowned and groaned quietly. "Sweet Merlin, you didn't get her pregnant on purpose; did you?"
His eyes flashed like lightning. "What? Blaise, no! Of course not! Why does everyone keep saying that?" he exclaimed, affronted.
"I don't know, you Malfoy men are-"
"We're what, Blaise?" Draco snapped with poorly concealed ire. Blaise crossed his arms, studying Draco with an arched brow. "You're telling me you asked Granger to marry you just because you two had a… situation?"
Draco slumped further back into the armchair, his face buried in his hands. "It was more than that," he muttered, his voice muffled but laced with frustration. "It wasn't just… convenience. When she found out, I thought proposing was the right thing. I wanted to make things… simpler."
Blaise smirked, but there was something thoughtful in his gaze. "Simpler? Draco, you do realize nothing about this is simple, right?"
Draco finally looked up, face flushed, caught somewhere between defensiveness and exasperation. "I know that now. I panicked. She was terrified, Blaise, and somehow, in that moment, I just... wanted to be there for her. To be part of it. I thought it'd be enough if I made a commitment."
Blaise watched him for a beat, "I'm sensing there's something else..."
He rolled his eyes because he was right. He really did know too much.
"You have feelings for her, don't you?" Blaise deduced aptly, a light and slightly surprised smirk playing at his lips.
Draco stiffened and began wetting his suddenly dry lips. "I- yes, I feel… strongly for her. I…" He trailed off and sighed to himself. "I don't want to talk about it. How long do you plan on staying? I've got a headache I need to sleep off."
Blaise regarded him quietly, nodding as he pieced things together before shrugging. "I'll leave, but you need to tell Granger about this 'side project' soon. You've got a lot to figure out, Draco. But maybe this… situation isn't as inconvenient as you think. The longer the pressure builds, the bigger the explosion. Remember that."
Draco clenched his jaw tight, irate because he was right again. He watched Blaise exit through the door. The following pop announcing his departure. His eyes squeezed shut as the pounding behind his eyes ramped up with a vengeance.
"Hermione, wake up! You need to see this!"
Her eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, she had no idea where- or who- she was. Her mouth felt as dry as parchment left out in the desert, her throat scratchy and sore. Every fiber of her being protested, screaming for more sleep, more water- anything but this rude awakening. Squinting against the morning light, she blinked and finally focused on the pair of wide, brown eyes staring down at her with an intensity that bordered on manic.
"Merlin's beard, Ginny, what are you doing?" she rasped, recoiling into her headboard.
Ginny barely offered an apologetic glance. "No time for pleasantries. You really need to see this."
Hermione shot her an irritated look, every bone in her body demanding an explanation for this early-morning ambush. "See what?"
Without another word, Ginny dropped a newspaper onto her lap. Hermione's hands moved slowly, begrudgingly, as she lifted the paper and squinted at the headline. A second later, her jaw dropped. Any attempt to scream in horror was thwarted by her parched throat, so she settled for a strangled gasp.
"Oh my god... This is... no... this is not good. This is bad! This is very bad!" she said, her breathing now ragged as she gripped the paper for dear life.
Ginny folded her arms, a smug smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth. "Yes, Hermione. I know what 'not good' means."
Hermione shot her an exasperated glare, thrusting the paper back toward her. "Ginny, this isn't a time for jokes. I need to see Malfoy. Now."
She threw back her blankets and sprang from the bed in a flurry of determination. Rushing to the kitchen, she gulped down two glasses of water in quick succession before darting to the bathroom for the world's fastest shower. In record time, she was dressed in leggings, an ancient Quidditch tee, hair still dripping as she marched to the fireplace. With a last, defiant glance at Ginny, she stepped into the Floo and, with a whirl of green flames, vanished to Draco's.
"Malfoy! Are you here?" Hermione called, brushing soot from her clothes as she stepped out of the fireplace, her voice echoing through the silent house. Her eyes darted around, scanning the room with a wild urgency.
The soft, measured sound of footsteps descending the stairs met her ears. She looked up to see Draco, hair tousled, leaning against the banister in a pair of sleeping pants and no shirt, his expression hovering somewhere between curiosity and mild irritation.
She was momentarily distracted by his pale chest, her gaze catching his smooth skin and faint traces of toned muscle beneath. The early morning light streaming in through the window seemed to pool across him, highlighting his collarbone and the subtle rise and fall of his chest with each breath. For a split second, her mind wandered, tracing over the lines of him and forgot what she had come here for.
"Where else would I be? It's eight in the morning on a Saturday," he drawled, breaking her short trance, eyes narrowing as he took in her frantic expression. Hermione rolled her eyes and waved a dismissive hand.
"Did you see-" she began, her voice teetering on the edge of desperation.
"The article?" he finished smoothly, crossing his arms with a grimace.
"Yes! This is bad!"
"Very bad," he agreed, his face darkening.
Her fingers raked through her tangled curls. "How did she-"
"I don't know."
"What are we-"
"I don't know."
Hermione glared at him, her hands balling into fists at her sides. "Well, we need to do something! And stop bloody interrupting me!"
Her frustration spilled into pacing, each step thudding against the polished floorboards as her mind raced. The tension in her was palpable, a string pulled so taut it could snap at any moment. Draco watched her for a moment, his own headache building as he struggled to keep up with her spiraling thoughts. Finally, he stepped forward, gripping her shoulders with a firmness that brought her to a halt. Her tear-bright amber eyes lifted to meet his, pleading.
"Granger, listen," he said softly, his voice as steady as he could make it. "The word's out. There's nothing we can do. We should just be glad they haven't found out about the pregnancy, ok?"
She stared at him, breathing unevenly, but as his words sunk in, her shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. "Ok," she murmured, trying to steady herself. "But what do we do? You know Skeeter. She'll hound us with questions, and if we don't answer, she'll invent her own truths."
Draco's gaze turned thoughtful as he ran his thumb along her worried bottom lip. "We... we smile, stay composed, keep our heads down. It'll blow over. Eventually."
Hermione clenched her jaw, stepping out of his hold and resuming her pacing with renewed fervor. Her steps were restless, each one conveying her frustration as Draco pinched the bridge of his nose and collapsed onto the sofa, watching her with a resigned sigh.
"Eventually?" she muttered, voice tinged with indignation. "I refuse to let that wench have us under her thumb!"
Draco raised an expectant eyebrow. "Then what do you suggest we do?"
She stopped abruptly, eyes flashing with determination. "We get married. Now."
His brow arched. "Now?"
"Not 'now' now. But soon- two or three weeks. We pull out all the stops, plan everything, hold the ceremony, and invite her along, give her the 'inside scoop' she's so desperate for, and then we're done with her. The sooner we do this, the sooner we stop the speculation and shut her up."
Hermione's face hardened, a look of steely resolve taking over as she remembered the vile rumors Rita Skeeter had spun about her and Harry during the Triwizard Tournament. She was not letting that happen again.
Draco regarded her, his eyes glinting with a mixture of surprise and admiration. "Ok," he said, the idea taking root. "Do you have a date in mind?"
"The 26th," she replied immediately, her voice softening with something almost wistful.
Draco's brow furrowed. "Why not the 30th, or something a bit later?"
"It's my parents' wedding anniversary," she said, her tone quiet, almost reverent. It was all the explanation he needed.
He felt a pang of empathy. Everyone in the wizarding world knew how she'd altered her parents' memories, sending them away and making them forget they even had a daughter, all to protect them from the war. He doubted he would've been able to make such a sacrifice, not even for the father he'd butted heads with for most of his life.
He swallowed, his voice thick. "Alright. The 26th it is."
A small, grateful smile touched her lips, and she held his gaze, silent appreciation glowing in her eyes. He couldn't help but return it, his hand reaching out almost instinctively to squeeze hers. In that moment, they shared a quiet understanding, knowing that the battle ahead was one they'd face side by side.
"Well, go get dressed," Hermione commanded, shattering the fleeting moment between them with her familiar, no-nonsense tone.
Draco blinked, a little dazed. "Pardon me? For what, exactly?"
"We are going venue shopping. I'll be back in fifteen minutes." She turned briskly toward the fireplace.
"Wait, where are you going?"
"Home to change and pick up Ginny. Owl your mother that we'll be there to pick her up in twenty minutes," she replied in one smooth breath, as if it were all already planned out in her head.
Draco's brow furrowed, his tone shifting to one of concern. "My mother?"
"Yes, your mother! Now stop asking questions and go get dressed!" She pointed up the stairs, her eyes narrowing slightly in impatience.
Draco raised his hands in surrender, backing up toward the staircase. "Alright, alright- sheesh!" He shot her a grin, disappearing up the stairs with a small shake of his head.
When Hermione arrived back at her flat, she immediately shed her soot-covered clothes and rummaged through her wardrobe, slipping into a pair of jeans and a casual t-shirt, topped with a soft cardigan. As she fumbled around her vanity, pulling her wild curls into a messy bun, Ginny appeared in the doorway, eyebrows arched in surprise.
"Well, that was fast. Where are you off to?"
Hermione smirked, twisting her hair up and pinning it in place. "We are going venue shopping."
Ginny's mouth fell open, her gaze a mix of shock and amusement. "Venue shopping? You two haven't even set a date yet."
Hermione didn't pause, moving about the room with practiced efficiency as she tossed essentials into her purse. "Actually, we have."
As she reached for the familiar red bottle of prenatal potion, she hesitated, then took a quick swig, grimacing as the thick, unpleasant sludge crawled down her throat. She swallowed repeatedly, shuddering as the taste clung to her mouth. Ginny watched with sympathy, wincing as Hermione wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
"When?" Ginny asked gently.
"The 26th," Hermione replied, her voice hoarse from coughing.
Ginny's eyes widened in alarm. "Hermione!"
"What?" Hermione spluttered, trying to shake off the taste of the potion.
"That's in three weeks! That's nowhere near enough time to plan a wedding!"
Hermione exhaled, exasperated but undeterred. "That's why I'm kidnapping you and Narcissa. If anyone could throw together an event in less than a month, it'd be the two of you. Now, come on."
With Ginny in tow, they stepped into the floo, arriving back at Draco's. As they dusted themselves off in the sitting room, they froze- there, perched elegantly on a sofa, was Narcissa Malfoy, dressed impeccably in a chic, dark blue pantsuit with a glimmering emerald brooch at her throat. Merlin, the woman looked flawless.
Draco stood beside her, hands in his pockets, looking at Hermione with a small, knowing smirk. Hermione and Ginny exchanged a quick, wide-eyed glance as Narcissa rose gracefully from the sofa, her gaze warm.
"Hermione!" Narcissa's voice rang like chimes, her refined smile lighting up her face. She stepped forward and placed a delicate air kiss on both of Hermione's cheeks, as if they'd been friends for years. "As soon as Draco messaged to say you were looking for a venue, I came right over to offer the Manor Gardens. This wedding will be nothing short of magical," she declared with bridled excitement.
Draco raised a brow in Hermione's direction as if to say, see what you've signed up for? But Hermione only gave him a subtle wink in return, feeling, for the first time, that maybe, just maybe, they could pull this off.
She gave a small smile. "That sounds wonderful, Narcissa. Thank you," Hermione said sincerely. Thinking about it more, that was actually one of their best options. It was a private residence that allowed more security and privacy, and it was free. Not that costs were something she had to worry about marrying into The Malfoys.
"Of course! It is to be your home, too, after all."
Hermione paused. Wait a minute. Wait a damn minute. They'd never discussed living arrangements. Her eyes shot back to Draco who'd found a troublesome piece of lint to pick at, effectively avoiding her eyes.
"Mmhmm," she agreed with pursed lips.
Narcissa clapped her hands together excitedly. "Brilliant! I'll have to owl my florist, caterer, decorator..." The list continued on and on as Narcissa trailed over to the fireplace.
"Come along, Draco! We must get you fitted for a new set of robes!" she called.
"Oh, sweet Salazar," he muttered solemnly before shuffling after her, knowing better than to keep his mother waiting.
She heard Ginny bite back a hoarse laugh behind her.
"Have fun," Hermione snorted. He shot her a dirty look and stuck his tongue out only fueling her amusement.
Ginny turned to her after confirming they'd left. "You know the only things left, right?"
Hermione gave an uncertain look. "My dress?" she guessed.
Ginny nodded, "Yep and... the guest list,"
Hermione wanted to fall out right then and there. She let out a long groan. She had conveniently forgotten that part. Wedding guest lists were notorious for burning bridges and causing sour feelings. And to put the cherry on top, this was probably going to be considered the wedding of century. Everyone would want to be there.
And there was no telling how public reaction would be when the witch of the age and youngest known ex death-eater were to wed. Not that she particularly cared what the public thought, but it could be potentially dangerous for anyone involved.
She felt like she was on the back of a wild Hippogriff. She always heard that weddings were the one of the greatest experiences one could have. They never mentioned what it was like to plan one.