The Warning Hex and the Wedding Designs
Harry opened the kitchen door, yawning. He’d been up late again reading his Animagus book under the covers by torchlight.
Though it had been nearly a fortnight since they arrived at Grimmauld, he was still growing accustomed to the scrubbed-clean state of the kitchen and the abundance of breakfast options. After the household attended the small funeral for the house-elf that saved Hermione’s life, even Sirius’ attitude had softened towards Kreacher. Unfortunate topics like the elf’s secret visit to Bellatrix Lestrange were conveniently ignored in favour of Kreacher’s upgraded cleaning and cooking skills.
Harry greeted Sirius, who was half-buried behind the Prophet, and shot a short nod across the table at Malfoy before flopping into a seat beside Ron and reaching for some waffles and bacon.
“Heard someone leaving Hermione’s room last night,” Ron muttered to Harry over his toast. “Think it was–?”
“It was Theo,” Harry said immediately, and his mate’s shoulders relaxed.
Draco wrinkled his nose at them. “I’m not thick enough to sneak into her bedroom when literally every other wizard in this house would curse me for it.”
“Good,” Ron said firmly.
“If Hermione didn’t want him there, she’d curse him harder than any of you,” Sirius pointed out with a wry grin.
“True,” Harry chuckled.
Theo sidled into the kitchen and nodded at the others. He picked up a piece of toast and jam and ate it without sitting.
“Is there anything else needed to make the wedding happen Sunday?” Theo asked Sirius quietly.
“Just some decisions from the bride,” Sirius answered. “I’m sure she’ll want to choose her dress, flowers …”
“Witches do like that stuff,” Draco muttered around his eggs.
But Harry wasn’t so sure.
“I dunno if Hermione’ll care that much. She’d probably rather get married in the library than the parlour.”
Draco rolled his eyes and looked over at his estranged cousin.
“Can I confidently offer my parents sanctuary for the duration of the wedding, or will you Gryffindors try to lock up my father again?”
“Tempting,” Ron murmured out the corner of his mouth.
“In exchange for your father keeping his wand stowed at all times, nobody will attempt to curse or restrain him,” Sirius answered easily. “I’m not concerned about Narcissa; we grew up together. Her rule will be nobody gets hurt as long as nobody hurts her son.” He looked carefully across at Harry and Ron, who nonverbally agreed with the terms.
“That sounds fair. But since she’s not here yet …” Theo casually flicked his wand.
Draco was promptly thrown backwards out of his chair by a blast of magic. When he sat up from the floor, irritated and rumpled, his hair was vivid, tomato red.
“THAT’S for snogging my sister,” Theo said firmly.
“He WHAT?” Ron leapt to his feet and glared at the former blond.
Draco righted his chair and pouted at his new look in the reflection of the dish cabinet. He complained, “She’s gonna marry me, you prat, I hardly think it’s a big deal that I–”
“It IS a big deal, and you will NOT do it again,” Theo announced firmly with his wand perfectly balanced between the other wizard’s silver eyes. “You swore that you wouldn’t mistreat her–!”
“I only kissed her, Theo, it’s not like I–”
“Don’t even FINISH that sentence!”
“OK, Big Brother, time to let the Little Dragon go,” Sirius stood and clapped Theo’s shoulder. “He’s learned his lesson.”
Theo let Sirius guide him into a chair, but his fierce blue eyes continued to pierce Draco. Harry had yanked Ron back into his seat, but when Hermione came into the kitchen, she didn’t miss the harsh glares aimed across the table.
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Theo and Ron said together, but Hermione quickly noticed her fiancée’s ridiculous hairdo.
“Oh, for Godric’s sake, Theo …”
“It’s my job to defend you!” her brother insisted.
“You know how I feel about those stupid old rules,” Hermione insisted tiredly as she slid into a seat and reached for a waffle. “You don’t have to defend my honour like some knight in shining armour–”
“We’re wizards, not knights,” Draco said as he relocated his breakfast so he could sit next to Hermione, which took all four Gryffindors by surprise and made Theo shoot him a warning look. “But protecting our witches IS our job.”
“I’m not YOUR witch,” Hermione replied promptly before Ron’s mouth opened all the way. “And I’m more than capable of defending myself, thank you.”
“No kidding,” Harry murmured from across the table. Sirius chuckled.
“But she’s going to be mine–”
“–she’s still MY responsibility!” Theo retorted.
“That’s enough!” Sirius said loudly. “I’ll give a point to each of you on this one. Theo IS honour-bound to protect his sister, but there’s nothing here she needs protecting from. Well, except his friend’s paws, I s’pose.”
“Yeah, and those pale little ferret paws better stay PUT,” Ron announced, his fork aimed in Draco’s direction.
The Slytherin raised an eyebrow.
“Weasley, even YOU should know better. She’s gonna be my wife soon and we’ll BOTH have obligations to fulfil.”
Ron’s face turned greenish-puce as Theo’s started to redden.
Harry looked a little confused. Hermione groaned and stood, plate in hand. She’d been trying and failing to ignore the argument.
“Harry, as the only remotely sane person of our generation, would you please accompany me to the library? I found a few more volumes we should look at pertaining to prophecies–”
“Oh no, you don’t,” Draco snatched her arm and pulled her back into her seat. “We have a wedding to plan, my little bride, so your mission to save Potter is gonna wait.”
Hermione wanted to wriggle free of his tight grip, but she didn’t need to; Ron had already sent a Stinging Jinx to Draco’s shoulder, making him free her.
“We warned you to keep your hands off, Malfoy!”
Hermione leapt back up and stomped her foot.
“Ronald, SIT DOWN, and Theo, don’t you DARE.”
Her brother slowly withdrew his hand from his pocket, leaving his wand alone.
Hermione crossed her arms and glared at the wizards.
“I’m NOT saying this again! I don’t CARE about the ruddy traditions and who’s responsible for protecting me from untold evil; we’re in a safe place right now and I’m more than capable of defending myself! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to talk to my best friend – right now, the ONLY person not making me want to emigrate to Canada!”
With that, Hermione snatched the slightly blustered Harry’s arm and pulled him from the kitchen.
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Sirius had to Disarm Theo to stop him from hexing his roommate with something worse than Weasley hair. In response, Theo turned in frustration, pulling on his own hair, before he grabbed the edge of the sideboard with tight fists.
Ron was still irritated, but the comparative anger radiating off the normally passive Slytherin took him by surprise.
Draco seemed to agree. He slowly pushed away the remnants of his breakfast and carefully leaned towards his friend, whose arms were shaking.
“Theo, c’mon, what did you expect? I know she’s basically stuck with me ‘cause there’s no better option but I’m still–”
“A randy teenager,” his friend spat. Draco frowned.
“I’m still her betrothed, with all that entails. Would you be any different if you got engaged?”
“That’s not the point!” Theo brought his fist down on the sideboard, making the dishes rattle. “Hermione’s already got plenty of reasons to hate me and now you and your ruddy hormones will make her hate me even MORE–!”
“Hate you?”
“I was s’posed to keep her SAFE!”
Theo’s fist came down again and Ron looked a little concerned. They hadn’t been hanging out long, but Theo wasn’t known for violent outbursts of any kind.
“Hey,” Ron got up and stood on Theo’s other side. “What’s wrong, mate? I mean, you don’t actually think Malfoy’s gonna hurt her … like REALLY hurt her–?”
“No,” Theo growled. “But it’s … she’s …”
Ron waited with a furrowed brow.
Finally, Theo exhaled sharply and brought a hand to his eyes.
“I was so stupid– why didn’t I just …? She’d … should’ve been better off–”
“Look, if you’re concerned that you made all this happen, you didn’t, really,” Ron said reasonably. “I mean yeah, Thoros is a right bastard, but Hermione still got you for family, right?”
“I’m not worth all this,” Theo whispered. “She’s gonna hate me for it someday if she doesn’t already–”
“Not likely,” Ron countered easily before Draco could say anything. “D’you know how many times Hermione’s been downright pissed at me or Harry? She gets over it, mate. She’s mad about this rotten situation, yeah, but she doesn’t blame YOU.”
“Realistically, she could blame me,” Draco pointed out with an eye roll. “It’s ‘cause of my father that she’ll have to do all the pretending in our marriage–”
“But she shouldn’t even have to be in an arranged marriage at all–”
“Wasn’t your idea; it’s all ‘cause of Thoros,” Ron argued again. “She hates HIM, yeah, but not you. It’s pretty obvious to the rest of us that she cares about you something fierce.”
Theo’s hands slowly started to relax their grip on the sideboard.
“Theo, you’re missing something obvious,” Draco said dryly. “You can’t get pissed at me tomorrow when my parents show up, ‘cause you’re NOT her brother, remember? And we have to make Father believe we’re rushing the wedding because I love her – it would be more suspicious if I didn’t kiss her.”
Theo and Ron growled under their breaths. Sirius finally stopped pretending he was still reading the Prophet and stood with a sigh.
“Look, you kids gotta relax. I know you all care about Hermione in your own way – yeah, even Draco does, Ron, ‘cause she’s gonna be his wife, and you KNOW family always comes first. Now I need YOU to respect Theo’s wishes and not go after his sister any more than the bare minimum to convince the public. And I need YOU TWO to recognise that if Draco does something stupid, it’s Hermione who’ll get revenge on him just fine. And don’t think she won’t let you know if she wants your help.”
“Very well,” Draco drawled. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to carefully compose a letter to my parents inviting them to the home of their political rivals, so they can attend my impromptu wedding.”
Ron frowned after him as he left the room.
“I don’t like that hair on him. It’s unsettling.”
“I’ll change it later,” Theo mumbled. “No offense Ron, but I figured red would piss him off the most.”
“I’m fine with pissing him off,” the redhead chortled. “But next time let’s give him a forehead scar, yeah?”
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“–can’t even imagine you’d want to turn someone inside-out, I mean that’s just gruesome–”
“Hermione,”
“But this one could be useful; it turns someone’s fingernails into actual nails – I mean, IRON ones – good luck holding your wand long enough to cast anything–”
“Hermione.”
“Oh, and this one outlined the most common prophecy misinterpretations! Did you know there’s over eight hundred prophecies made over the course of an average decade? People always think they’re meant to be literal, but there’s always a second interpretation–”
Harry reached out a hand to stop her arm on its way to grab the next tome and she stopped moving.
“You OK?” Harry asked softly.
Hermione bit her lip hard.
“Harry, I want to focus on YOU right now–”
“In a minute,” her friend insisted. “Just … c’mon. Talk to me.”
He waited patiently while her eyes got glassy and her lip trembled. He hated seeing her like this, but he knew this was the only worthwhile plan. He was far more concerned about losing her.
Harry recently had the harsh realisation, thanks to the prophecy, that he might not have much longer with his friends. Unlike last year when he was determined to be as isolated as possible, Harry felt a strong urge to keep his friends close. And he wanted them to be happy.
“I just … I don’t want to think about it too much. I mean, it’s just temporary, and it’s necessary, but … it’s Malfoy.”
“Yeah,” Harry wrinkled his nose. “I wish there’d been another option, but he’s better than Goyle, right? Or Flint? I mean, at least Malfoy has a brain in his head. And he doesn’t look like a troll, either.”
“I s’pose,” she mumbled. “But being good-looking doesn’t change the fact that he’s been such an ARSE for most of his life.”
“Maybe the key word there is most,” Harry said dryly. “He did agree to support the Order–”
“–only ‘cause it was the best way to save his own smarmy arse–” she argued.
“–and he’s Theo’s friend, right?” Harry tried not to laugh at Hermione’s second use of arse in ten seconds. “We sorta threatened him a little to leave you alone – don’t look at me like that, you knew we would – and he pointed out that he’s not about to do something to hurt you ‘cause he’d also lose Theo. He’s not that thick, Hermione.”
“I guess not,” she sighed.
Harry’s fingers tapped an uneven rhythm on the table. “But I’m kinda scared to ask … what’s with the– er– obligations he was talking about?”
Hermione went pink.
“Is it another pure-blood thing?” Harry guessed.
“The stupid guidebook he gave me has all these rules about physical contact,” Hermione admitted, rubbing her eyes. “Now I’m engaged I’m not even supposed to hug another wizard because I’m meant to demonstrateunequivocal loyalty to my intended. We’re supposed to hold hands and kiss in public as much as possible … wizards don’t use engagement rings, so the excessive physical contact comes across like us claiming each other.”
Harry wrinkled his nose.
“It gets worse,” she grumbled. “After marriage, we’re expected to … to pleasure each other–”
“ACK,” Harry covered his ears. “OK. That’s enough. Now I need to Scourgify my brain.”
Hermione rubbed her temples.
“It’s not the worst thing I imagined, honestly. I sort of expected the antiquated rules to demand that the witch serve the wizard, but there’s an expectation of reciprocity, and the wizards are actually expected to put the physical needs of the witch first, given that wizards can’t bear children–”
“La-la-LA-la,” Harry began singing.
Hermione poked him with her quill, albeit with a grin.
“I’m NOT letting things go that far. Honestly, this sham of a marriage is only useful to gather information from the other side and keep Thoros away from me ‘til the war’s over. Once we win and everything’s settled down, I’ll divorce Malfoy and he can go find some proper wife.”
Harry put a hand to his head and pretended to swoon.
“So much pressure … if I don’t defeat Voldemort, you might be stuck married to the ferret FOREVER …!”
“That’s right, so you better focus, Harry Potter, because you’re my only chance of ending this war and having a normal life!”
“Oh, fine,” he fake-complained. “Gimme that list of curses, and I’ll practice a few on him later.”
“Nothing permanently damaging, please. I do need him in one piece for a while yet.”
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Sirius declared the wedding planning at a stalemate; he couldn’t go any further without input from the bride, who was stubbornly avoiding the entire process.
But the Malfoys were arriving in a matter of hours, and the wedding was tomorrow.
Theo finally coaxed her down from the library, though she still carried her books and notes and only devoted a portion of her attention to the wedding nonsense.
“OK, there’s just a few things left,” Sirius rummaged through a haphazard stack of parchment which Theo calmly straightened out into neater piles as Sirius tossed them to the side one by one. “We have to pick flowers, confirm the menu and guest list, get Hermione a dress, find a ring–”
“She can wear my family ring,” Malfoy answered easily. “It’s tradition anyway. For our first anniversary I’ll have a gem added to it. Probably sapphire, her birthstone.” He glanced across the table at his reluctant fiancée. “You’re alright with blue?”
Still utterly lost in the study materials piled on her lap, Hermione gave barely a shrug in response with a murmured, “M-hm.”
Malfoy frowned.
“Granger, you’re a witch. Why aren’t you all up in this wedding stuff?”
Ron rolled his eyes and muttered, “She’s not THAT much of a witch, really …”
Hermione suddenly snapped to attention, furious eyes piercing holes in Ron’s skull.
“EXCUSE me?!”
Ron went deathly white and stammered, “No, no, not like you’re ugly or …! ACK, I meant, you’re not like a– a really girly-girl– Er, I mean– like, you don’t even wear lipstick! And you don’t care about clothes and– and hair and all that other stuff, really, yeah? You’re like … there’s more to you than all that … that witchy rubbish. That’s– that’s why we like you, anyway, y’know?”
Harry looked carefully back and forth between his best friends to gauge Hermione’s reaction and was surprised to see Malfoy doing the same thing.
Slowly Hermione’s eyes softened, and Ron managed to shoot her a hopeful half-grin which she shyly returned. Harry grinned at them both, but Malfoy just shook his head in bafflement.
“But you ARE a witch, so you should at least care a little about this stuff,” he insisted. “You got all dressed up at the Yule Ball, so it’s not like you don’t know how–” Hermione turned her annoyed blue eyes towards him, which he ignored “–so, out with it. What’s your favourite flower? Food? Colours?”
Hermione wrinkled her nose a little but realised Sirius was sitting still, quill to parchment, in anticipation of her answers. She sighed.
“Since I’m so pale, white looks awful on me. Besides, there’s a good chance I’ll be spattered with ink at some point, so I suppose I should wear something a bit darker. Blue is fine. I’m largely indifferent to food; I’m just not especially fond of fish. I like lilies, or pink roses I guess, but flowers aren’t really important anyway.”
And with that, her nose was once again buried in Advanced Jinxes and Hexes. Ron opened his mouth with a confused look on his face, but Harry silenced him quickly and instead addressed Hermione’s slightly disappointed brother.
“How’re we gonna get a dress for her if she can’t leave Grimmauld?”
Theo bit his lip, but Sirius jumped in, “She and Ginny are about the same size, I reckon she could help.”
Hermione pursed her lips and re-emerged from behind her book.
“I don’t want to put the pressure of the secret on Ginny if it’s not absolutely necessary; wouldn’t it be sufficient to feed her the engagement nonsense that the rest of Hogwarts is hearing about? Besides, I can just Transfigure a dress–”
Something flashed across Malfoy’s eyes, and he answered tightly, “All the Weasels are part of the Order, so she’ll find out eventually. Besides, no matter how you feel about the witchy stuff, it’s proper for you to have another witch who helps you get ready and monitors your wand during the ceremony.
“And furthermore, no Malfoy will marry a witch in a Transfigured gown!” he insisted loudly.
“Very well, Ginny can help me get a dress,” Hermione gave in with a sigh. “But that’s enough. No need to make this a bigger fuss than necessary.”
“Weddings are a good excuse to indulge in a little unnecessary fuss,” Sirius countered with a grin. “When James and Lily got married, they rented a flying carpet to take them over Stonehenge at sunset. Lily had no idea they’d just been outlawed from Britain, but of course that was the part James loved the most about it.”
Harry scratched his rough chin as he tried to imagine it. He’d only seen weddings on television, apart from the time he was dragged along to an incredibly boring outdoor ceremony where Vernon’s cousin married her fourth husband in a peach frock that resembled Aunt Petunia’s bedroom curtains. His parents’ wedding photo was nice, though; they seemed glad to have their best friends at their sides and they looked happy together.
Perhaps it was hard to imagine a wedding because Harry didn’t think there was anyone that he’d look so happy standing with. Maybe he’d never have the chance anyway, he thought bitterly.
“My parents had one of those weddings where everyone they’d ever met was invited,” Ron said with a bit of a wrinkled nose. “There were so many people it was like an ocean of hats. In the pictures you can barely tell anybody apart.”
“Sounds like they had a second-rate photographer,” Malfoy drawled. “My parents hired a retired fashion photographer; he insisted every guest don pale robes to make Mother’s tourmaline gown stand out even more. Of course, they also had a fountain of the best elf-made wine, imported Dutch tulips, a French commissioner who delivered the service in three languages–”
“Ridiculous,” Hermione’s voice muttered from behind her book.
“Well, we can’t be quite that extreme but being rich has a few perks,” Sirius said with a smirk. “For one, I snagged a bunch of my mother’s old jewels from the attic; I hung them up with satin ribbons to make a nice shiny backdrop.”
Harry hid a chortle, being the only one in the room who knew Sirius was secretly loving the entire planning process.
“Oh, and you both need to choose witnesses,” the planner continued onto his next parchment.
“Like a best man or bridesmaid?” Harry asked.
“Sort of, yeah,” Sirius answered between scribbles. “Those traditions are Muggle in origin, so not every wizarding family uses them. The witness is traditionally a family member, but they can be any gender or age. They represent the rest of the family being joined by the wedded couple.”
“I have no siblings; therefore, my mother will be mine,” Malfoy said instantly.
“Is mine Dumbledore, then?” Hermione asked, momentarily tuning back to the marriage talk. “Because he has to give me permission?”
“No,” Theo answered. “Dumbledore and Lucius will stand next to the commissioner and sign the marriage declaration in place of you and Draco, given that you’re both underage. Your witness is meant to escort you to the ceremony and remain at your side, so it’ll have to be someone else.”
“It should be Theo; he’s the most appropriate choice.” Malfoy opined.
Hermione stopped Ron before his mouth opened all the way. “I agree, I think, given that you and Harry aren’t really in support of the marriage anyway and you’re not officially my family,” she said. “You can be there if you like, but I do choose Theo for my witness, if he’s willing.”
“Of course,” Theo answered immediately. Hermione went back to her book, not noticing the slight flush on her brother’s cheeks.
“’Course we’ll be there,” Harry said firmly. Hermione offered him a small smile.
Ron looked worried. “Wait, but doesn’t the commissioner have to be someone from the Ministry? How’ll they get into Grimmauld, then? And if they know where Hermione is …”
“Not a problem,” Sirius reassured him. “Moody’s a qualified commissioner, even though he’s retired. Once he does all the paperwork he’ll give it to Tonks, and she can file it at the Ministry. I know Moody’s not the most photogenic person to have in your wedding party,” he said to Hermione with a wink, “but he’s a safe option, for sure.”
Hermione huffed and tucked her study materials into her bag. “Well, we hardly need photos anyway. Can I go now?”
“I think I have all the questions answered,” Sirius said slowly. “But if there’s anything else you want …”
He’d barely finished his sentence; Hermione was already on her way out the door.
Theo wasn’t the only one who noticed the fiercely pinched expression on Malfoy’s face; Harry noticed it too.