And one week and two days.
“Nearly ready?” Narcissa asked, putting in an earring as she walked in the room Hermione was using.
“Almost; just finishing my makeup,” Hermione called from the washroom. “It was so nice of Professor McGonagall to let us use her cottage again.”
Narcissa leaned on the doorframe, waiting to see Hermione before responding. Silly plan, though, because once she saw her future wife dressed to the nines, makeup done, hair styled...she completely lost her train of thought.
“What?” Hermione asked. “What is it? You’re staring,” Hermione reached up and checked that her hair smoothed back into its twist.
“You’re stunning,” Narcissa whispered.
“And you look incredible,” Hermione returned the compliment, reaching for Narcissa’s hands. The pair stood looking at one another for a moment, enjoying the anticipation of another night out, dancing, being together.
“Off we go, darling, off we go,” Narcissa commanded before they got so lost in one another they never left.
“Can we apparate right there?”
Narcissa frowned, brow wrinkling. “I don’t think we ought to. There’s a residence near enough, though, that I believe we could apparate into. You have access to the Grimmauld Place house, don’t you?”
“I do! Is that close to where we’re headed?” Hermione smiled, eyes bright.
“Just a few minutes away by vehicle,” Narcissa nodded.
The couple glanced around the cottage to be certain they had left it in order and called out their goodbyes to Winky and Pepper who were having tea in the kitchen. Unsure of any anti-apparition wards on the property they agreed it was safer to leave from the road than the cottage.
“Harry’s actually given me the address. I have access to the house again. I can apparate us, Hermione,” Narcissa said in a mad rush before the other woman could begin her deliberation.
Sighing gratefully, Hermione stepped forward and wrapped her arms loosely around her fiancée’s waist. “Well, what are you waiting for then?” She smirked.
Laughing, Narcissa didn’t hesitate a moment and the two quickly appeared on the doorstep at number twelve Grimmauld Place.
“You know, I’ve never ridden the Knight Bus,” Narcissa admitted quietly.
Hermione hummed, measuring her response before she spoke. “I’ve taken it a few times. It’s...certainly not the grandest form of transportation. It’s easily summoned, fairly priced, and gets the job done quickly, but it doesn’t feel remotely safe.” Hermione paused and led Narcissa down the steps, hands entwined. “Is there a particular reason you’ve never taken it?”
“My family, of course. They were one of the pureblood families against the commissioning of the Knight Bus in the nineteenth century and there is some truth to the rumor that the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black is stubborn.”
Hermione snorted in her attempt not to laugh.
“Now, now, my lion, laughing at me will get you nowhere,” Narcissa teased back, tugging Hermione into her side and smiling.
Smiling as they continued forward, Hermione hesitated for just a split second.
“What is it?”
“Well, it’s silly really, but...the Knight Bus isn’t exactly a luxury vehicle, you know?” Narcissa nodded. “And we’re dressed so, so beautifully and we’re headed to a gorgeous venue for a formal wedding. Don’t you think we ought to arrive in style?”
Narrowing her eyes at Hermione, Narcissa knew the younger woman was thinking up some plan.
“What if we hailed a London cab and put a glamour on it that made it look - from the outside only, of course - like a limousine?”
“Are you just trying to get your Muggle Studies work done already?” Narcissa pressed a quick kiss to Hermione’s lips to let the woman know she was only teasing. “Brilliant thinking, darling, go ahead and...hail us a cab,” she gestured toward the street where a few cars drove by.
A few short minutes later found them safely ensconced in the back of a black, London taxicab.
Hermione turned to Narcissa and whispered as quietly as she could, “Is it illegal to obliviate a muggle?”
“Actually, no, it isn’t.”
Hermione nodded a few times and looked away, out the window next to which she sat. They were only a few minutes from the wedding site, and as they drew nearer, Narcissa gently tapped Hermione’s leg. When the younger woman looked at her, she smiled, “Mione, we can just take a cab, you know. It’s a perfectly acceptable form of transportation.”
“And you don’t think the reporters covering this wedding are going to note that the beautiful bachelorette, Narcissa Black, was seen slumming it with the mudblood in a London cab instead of a more...traditional form of transportation?” Hermione frowned.
“Darling, don’t,” Narcissa sighed. “That is a vile word. Your blood is not dirty. And I’m not a bachelorette - I’m engaged to be married. Let’s flip this around, shall we? You don’t think the reporters are going to note that the beautiful, vibrant Golden Girl was seen slumming it with the disgraced cast-off of Death Eater Lucius Malfoy?”
Pressing her forehead to Narcissa’s cheek, Hermione sighed, too. “Don’t say that. You’re not a disgraced cast-off. You’re brilliant and independent and so very beautiful.”
Narcissa could see the Hotel Café Royal ahead and looked Hermione right in the eye. “Muffliato. Listen, we’re going to get out of this cab together, smiling. You just fought and won a war about exactly this kind of thing. We live amongst muggles, some of our greatest witches and wizards come from muggle families. We took a cab across London; so what? If anyone asks about it, we just look at them like we’re a little confused by the question. We don’t understand what the problem is. Taking a cab was safer for the SOS than Apparating into the heart of the city. We travel by...the trains underground, too.” When Hermione grinned and nodded in response, Narcissa ended the spell she had cast to keep their conversation private.
“Here we are, birds, Hotel Café Royal. That’s eight pound twenty, innit?”
“Thank you, here you go,” Hermione handed him some notes as Narcissa pushed the door open and stepped out.
Turning back to the cab, she reached a hand out for Hermione to take as she, too, stepped onto the sidewalk in front of the Hotel to the flashing of a camera bulb. Just as Narcissa was about to close the door, the driver called out.
“Oi! Your change, missus!”
She smiled kindly, “No change is needed, enjoy your night.”
As Narcissa straightened up and turned back toward the Hotel, Hermione watched her eyes dart about, taking in the scene. And what a scene it was...there were formally outfitted ushers at the doorway, velvet ropes lining the stairs, reporters with cameras on either side of them, and a veritable who’s who of the elite British wizarding community heading inside around them.
“Quite a crowd,” Hermione noted, squeezing the hand in her own before she tucked their arms together. “Let’s go inside and find our seats for the ceremony.”
Narcissa smoothed her expression into the one Hermione had come to register as her “socialite calm” face and the pair made their way into the specified banquet hall. The seats around them filled quickly and the wedding began precisely on time.
A Ministry Official performed the Rites and Rituals and Hermione listened carefully to the vows, thinking about what she and Narcissa would be saying in just a few months' time.
Noticing her fiancée’s focused expression and furrowed brow, Narcissa quietly questioned her. “Just listening to their vows and thinking about our wedding.”
“Merlin help us,” Narcissa murmured directly into Hermione’s ear, running the backs of her fingers down Hermione’s cheek, “nothing like this. You just listened to a pureblood contract being recited between two families trying to save their names. Now smile shyly like I’ve just said something romantic and then kiss me. I’m sure people are watching us.”
Hermione looked at Narcissa with a tiny smirk, quickly raising her eyebrows before pressing a quiet kiss to her lips. Then another. She wiggled closer in her chair so her side was pressed up against Narcissa and held Narcissa’s right hand between her own, resting in her lap. Hermione occasionally pulled Narcissa’s hand up to her cheek or pressed it against her lips as she watched and listened.
Having assumed Bill and Fleur wed in a typical wizarding ceremony, Hermione was unprepared for the length and involvement of what she was witnessing. The Officiant presiding over the wedding seemed to be calling witnesses, signers, and proxies from both families to come forward. They would answer questions, sign a document, and grasp the hand of the head of the other household. There was clearly some magical contract involved, Hermione could see the occasional glow of a spell as hands were grasped and contracts signed.
Suddenly, the Officiant’s voice rang out, “Do you, Lord Greengrass, accept the gifts and contracts as they have been stated?”
“I do,” Hermione heard in a deep, booming voice.
“Do you, Mistress Rowle, accept the gifts and contracts as they have been stated?”
“I do,” a woman stated clearly.
“Do you, Daphne Manon Greengrass, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
“I do,” Daphne answered.
“Do you, Torben Damocles Rowle, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
A brief pause…”I,” a throat being cleared, “I do,” his voice squeaked.
“Clasp your hands,” he intoned, holding too long on the final vowel and then hissing out the last sound. For a moment, Hermione was reminded so strongly of Professor Snape she half expected to look up and see him presiding over the ceremony himself.
Narcissa inhaled sharply, catching Hermione’s attention. With a minute shake of her head, she silently asked the younger woman to hold her questions for later.
Turning her eyes and attention back to the front, Hermione watched as Daphne and Torben grasped one another’s right wrists. The official presiding over the ceremony stepped very close to them and raised his wand before bringing it down to touch the tip to their hands.
“Will you follow all express terms as outlined in the marriage contract today?” He asked them.
Together, they answered, “I will.”
“Will you follow all implied terms as outlined in the marriage contract today?”
Again, they answered, “I will.”
“Will you abide by all future provisions of the marriage contract as they are renegotiated and validated?”
There was a pause, longer than expected, and the guests silently waited for an answer. Daphne and Torben, staring at one another, breathed in as one, and answered once more in unison, “I will abide by all provisions to which I agree.”
With that, the Unbreakable Vow was completed, three rings of magical flame wrapped around their joined hands and sunk into their skin. The marks would be visible for the evening but would fade within a few days. The pair separated and were each handed a magical quill to sign a document their guests, of course, could not see.
Hermione, unprepared for the legality of a pureblood wedding, inferred that something about their response was unexpected. The guests around them were all whispering animatedly amongst one another. Narcissa used the moment to lean back in and whisper to Hermione, “You understand my surprise? An Unbreakable Vow?”
Hermione took the opportunity to do the same but first shared a kiss with the lips once again so near her own. Pressing her nose to the side of Narcissa’s head, Hermione whispered, “Are we at a wedding or a business meeting?”
Ever aware of her surroundings and the social climate of the room, Narcissa leaned away and smiled mischievously, “Precisely.” She winked at Hermione for good measure.
The room fell silent as Daphne and Torben stepped together again.
“Now,” the official spoke loudly, “with the signing of the marriage contract complete, all that is left is to seal the union. Daphne, Torben, you may kiss one another!” They wasted no time and shared a brief meeting of lips then turned, hands entwined, to the room. Though the ceremony had been long and, it seemed, stressful, both Torben and Daphne looked a bit relieved.
Music began playing and the couple exited down the aisle, followed by a small but beautiful wedding party, Daphne’s parents, Torben’s mother, and the Ministry Official. Once they were gone, a maitre d’hotel came in and asked the guests to follow the Wedding Party to the banquet hall for the reception. “You may seat yourselves wherever you wish as long as it is not a reserved table for the Wedding Party or their families. Thank you!”
Hermione leaned toward Narcissa and said with no small amount of snark, “Perfect, maybe there will be a table for two.”
“Oh, come, now. There must be people here you know? From school?”
“Yes, but none with whom I want to sit. Nor would they wish to be seated with me. Pansy Parkinson? Milicent Bulstrode? Marcus Flint? There must be friends of yours here. Nearly everyone who’s been in Slytherin this century is in the room,” she sniped, rolling her eyes.
Easily reverting to the facial expression she’d had years to perfect, everyone in the room saw the Narcissa they were expecting to see, a little bit highbrow and thinking herself above them. None of them had any inkling the haughty look was hiding a bit of hurt and frustration at Hermione’s snippy remarks.
“Of course,” she said smoothly, still smiling, “because everyone who has ever been in Slytherin House must be friends and there is no possibility for inter-house friendship. Ever. Never mind that you and I, lion and serpent, are to be wed in three months. If Romilda Vane were here, I expect you’d prefer to sit with her than with me? Or Ron Weasley? Or Percy, for that matter? How about Peter Pettigrew? Is he, a fellow Gryffindor, preferable to myself and Draco? And Andromeda?”
Hermione, doing her best to maintain her own neutral facial expression while simultaneously wishing the floor would just swallow her up, looked around for a moment before replying, “And one week and two days.”
“Hmm?”
Still waiting near their seats for the room to empty a bit more, Hermione turned and put her arms around Narcissa’s neck so they were face to face. “You said three months. It’s three months, one week, and two days. And I plan to be sitting with you then, too.” Hermione pushed up onto her toes to kiss the taller woman.
Kissing Hermione back, Narcissa accepted the other woman’s silent apology. Finally, the kiss ended and she spoke into Hermione’s ear as she hugged her, “I know you’re feeling a little out of your depth here. Honestly, Hermione, so am I. I’ve never been to a pureblood event like this without Lucius or my family alongside me. You and I will just have to stick together.”
“Dressed like that you think I’ll be able to leave you alone for a moment?” Hermione laughed, easing the stress and tension she had created a few minutes earlier. “I don’t know how I’ll keep potential suitors away!”
“Just stay close,” Narcissa said, her voice no longer carried that hint of teasing. Instead, she sounded a little unsure.
“All night, Cissa,” Hermione kissed her again.
Finally the line had thinned out considerably and the pair made their way into the larger banquet hall to find a table. “Hmm, looks like our table choices are widows of Death Eaters, reporters, or a rowdy group of young men. You pick,” Narcissa chuckled.
“Reporters. Definitely reporters. We won’t sit much anyway. Dinner, a little dancing, and hopefully McGonagall will arrive soon with our thirty minute escape plan,” Hermione smiled.
The two women found themselves sitting with journalists from all of wizarding Europe’s premier publications. They used the time to observe the room and listen in to the sporadic conversation at their table. Hermione was anxiously awaiting the end of dinner and could not contain her grin when the dishes were cleared and the band stepped onto the platform at the end of the dance floor.
“Ladies and gentleman, would you all please turn your attention to the dance floor as the lovely Daphne and Torben share their first dance as a married couple,” the lead singer said sultrily into the microphone.
The band began to play and the pair on the dance floor looked at one another for a moment before they carefully took the first few steps to an obviously practiced dance. Hermione glanced curiously at Narcissa who leaned in and whispered the name of the waltz.
“Seriously? They’re not even pretending to want a unified wizarding society,” Hermione fumed.
“Eh, darling,” Narcissa snaked an arm around Hermione’s waist, “I think you’re barking up the wrong tree? The Valse des Purs to which Daphne and Torben are currently dancing is more of a symbol of virginal purity, not blood purity.”
“Oh.” Hermione frowned. “Well, that’s old-fashioned, too.”
Slowly and in a very particular order, others were invited to join Daphne and Torben on the dance floor. Hermione was keeping careful mental note of the ceremonial specifics of which she had previously been unaware...or unconcerned. She would have to make a point to sit down with Narcissa and discuss these rituals.
After what seemed a very long wait, all of the guests were invited to the dance floor. Hermione laughed when they, with their arms finally around one another, spotted Minerva McGonagall walk through the door. “Of course, I finally get to dance with you and it’s nearly time to go.”
Narcissa, heedless of their opinionated onlookers, pulled Hermione closer. The space slowly filled with other guests until the pair found themselves surrounded. Before Hermione had a chance to get too nervous however, a quiet voice nearby said, “Hello, Hermione, glad to see you’re well.”
Turning to the speaker, Hermione smiled in surprise. “Isobel! Glad to see you’re well, also! I didn’t see you earlier.”
“Yes, well, we just arrived a little while ago from, uh, another event?”
“Ah,” Narcissa interjected.
“Oh, yes, I’m so sorry, where are my manners?” Hermione was flustered. “Isobel MacDougal, Narcissa Black, my fiancée. Isobel and I went to Hogwarts together.”
Narcissa and Isobel exchanged pleasantries before Isobel introduced the man with whom she was dancing as her boyfriend, Jacques.
“I thought I recognized you!” Hermione exclaimed. “You came over from Beauxbatons for the Triwizard Tournament, right?”
“Oui,” he replied, grinning, “Lovely to see you again, Hermione.”
“You, too, Jacques!” She grinned as they danced away from one another.
Narcissa smirked at Hermione, eyebrows raised once again.
“What?”
“A Slytherin friend?”
Laughing, Hermione agreed that she had been wrong earlier. “Isobel probably could have easily been in Ravenclaw, she was always one of the best in class.”
“Draco said the same thing about her,” Narcissa nodded. “Oh! Isn’t that Luna? And...one of the Patil twins?”
Hermione turned to look and saw more people entering and filling the dance floor.
“That’s good, it means they’ll be less likely to notice us leaving,” Narcissa murmured into Hermione’s ear.
“Yes, but now I have you dancing in my arms and there’s music playing. I don’t want to go anywhere just yet,” Hermione moved her hands to either side of Narcissa’s neck and tugged the taller woman down for a kiss.
“Avoid McGonagall’s eye, then,” Narcissa chuckled.
As the band continued song after song, Narcissa watched the people around them switch partners constantly. “Is it purposeful, do you think?”
“Hmm?” Hermione opened her eyes and looked up at Narcissa.
“The partner swapping around us. Your friends rarely dance with the same person twice!”
“Oh. I...I hadn’t really noticed. It’s probably intentional, to make a point that they’re not settling with one person?” The current song faded out and an unusual pause held the silence a moment too long.
Finally, the stillness was broken by a raucous beat followed by near instant cheering from most of the gathered dancers.
Hermione, however, laughingly rolled her eyes and pulled Narcissa to the edge of the dance floor so she could shout to her about her dislike of the song.
“Good!” Narcissa answered, “Maybe now is a good time to go?”
Hermione nodded and pressed a quick kiss to Narcissa’s lips, “I’m just going to use the loo and we can go. Be right back!”
On her way passed the bar to the restroom, Hermione’s eyes found Minerva’s and she silently mouthed, “two minutes?”
McGonagall nodded with a relieved grin.
Of course, there was a line and it took Hermione the better part of ten minutes to get back out. On her way back up the grand staircase to Narcissa’s side, Hermione saw a well-dressed wizard at the bar. He glanced into the ballroom behind him and tipped a potion into the drink he held. Suspicious, Hermione watched as he and another wizard laughed and made their way over to a group of people. Her concern only grew when she realized Narcissa was standing amongst them. To Hermione’s utter horror, he pressed the doctored beverage into Narcissa’s hand with a grin.
As he raised his glass and started a toast with the small circle of old friends both Hermione and Minerva McGonagall stepped forward. “Narcissa!” Hermione called loudly, cutting off the man, “I’m so sorry to interrupt. I got all turned around on my way back to you. Are you ready to go, dear?”
Hermione was praying so hard that Narcissa would simply follow her lead.
“You must be the mudblood. Don’t you know it’s rude to interrupt a toast? Now, where were we?” He intently raised his glass in Narcissa’s direction, ignoring the others in the circle.
Hermione, finally at her fiancée’s side, placed one hand on Narcissa’s wrist to keep the presumably spiked drink away from her mouth and used the other to pull Narcissa’s body into her own. “Smirk like I’m saying something sexual to you,” Hermione murmured as quietly as possible into Narcissa’s ear.
When Narcissa did just that, Hermione leaned back, grinning, and kissed the other woman. Then she went right back to her ear, “I don’t know who this man is or what his goal might be but he poured a potion into your drink as he got it from the bar. Please, Narcissa, don’t drink that. Trust me.”
“Oh! I can’t believe I let that slip my mind! My friends, it’s been so nice to catch up with everyone but, as my beautiful fiancée just reminded me, we have another appointment this evening.”
A chorus of “No, Narcissa” and “We haven’t seen you in so long” met her statement.
“And I haven’t finished my toast. It would be quite rude to leave before I do,” the well-dressed mystery wizard exclaimed.
“Perhaps not quite as rude as calling my fiancée that disgusting slur but you’re right. Go on, McKinney, finish your toast.”
Anger flashed in McKinney’s blue eyes as he briefly narrowed them at Hermione. He smirked quickly as if to hide his true feelings.
“Well, then,” he laughed, a grating sound that reminded Hermione uncomfortably of Gilderoy Lockhart, “raise your glasses! We wouldn’t want to make our dear Miss Black late for her next...assignation.” He winked as if he knew what Hermione had whispered. “A toast to friends who know us, traditions we keep, and watching our plans come to fruition. Cheers!”
“Cheers!” The circle cried out together, raising their glasses and smiling at one another in solidarity.
Hermione felt a chill sneak up her spine. That was the single most disturbing toast she had ever heard. She watched with bated breath - her heart frozen - as Narcissa looked McKinney dead in the eye, clinked her glass to his, and tipped her drink back into her mouth.
McKinney stepped forward, his hand reaching for Narcissa’s waist, his own beverage forgotten when she turned to face Hermione. She took the younger woman’s cheek in her hand and said quietly, “There, my darling, now we can go,” before pressing her lips to Hermione’s in a more passionate kiss than they would usually share in front of others.
McKinney’s jaw clenched and his hand curled into a fist.
Hermione, pulling back from Narcissa, looked at the man standing so near. She watched his eyes narrow and his nostrils flare before he replaced the expression with a more socially acceptable, pleasant smile...however fake it may have been.
“Ah, Miss Granger, Miss Black, there you are,” Minerva McGonagall called from a few steps outside the circle. “Are you ready?”
The entire group turned as one to look at the Headmistress, except Hermione. She had eyes only for Narcissa and the pink flush spreading slowly up her neck.
“Oh, Professor McGonagall, so glad you found us. We’re ready, thanks! Darling, after you,” Narcissa announced for the benefit of those around them.
Once they reached the bottom of the stairs, McGonagall turned to look back at Narcissa. She had a death grip on Hermione’s hand. “What just happened?”
Narcissa smiled, her socialite face impeccable. “Side-along Apparition would be fine, Headmistress, thank you.”
Minerva reached out and the trio disappeared immediately. When Narcissa next opened her eyes she was in the sitting room at McGonagall’s Hogsmeade cottage.
Bending at the waist but not releasing her hold on Hermione, Narcissa groaned. Reaching out, Hermione asked how she could help. She pressed her free hand against Narcissa's hip.
“No!” The older woman cried. “Don’t touch me, please. Just, don’t touch me.”
Hermione took a startled step away, Narcissa sounded so agonized.