A Queasy Start
A Queasy Start
Five Years Later
Hermione was definitely going to be sick. She was nursing a glass of champagne, attempting to settle her nerves somehow, and it was absolutely not working. Her dusty purple dress made her feel beautiful, but also a little trapped with how tight Pansy had insisted on it being. She’d bonded with Pansy very quickly after that fateful night by the lake, and when the raven haired witch had insisted on Hermione being her maid of honour, the two of them had cried together for an embarrassing amount of time.
After a very loud and difficult to ignore protest group had emerged, the mandatory marriage law had eventually been repealed, however the vast majority of couples had stayed together, with the Ministry’s compatibility calculations being so accurate. Hermione never did find out how they’d worked the percentages out, but she supposed it didn’t matter anymore. Not when her relationship had gone up in flames one year prior.
“Hermione, darling, please take a calming draught or some hard drugs or something, for the love of Merlin, you look terrible.” Pansy said, striding in from the bathroom in a white silk robe.
“If I take any more calming draught, I will be near enough catatonic, and I’d quite like to remember at least some parts of today, Pans.”
“He hasn’t brought her, you know. I threatened him so very thoroughly.”
“Would it have made any difference? I don’t want to make this a thing, today is your day.”
“Yes, it is my day, but I won’t enjoy it half as much if I’m aware of your acute suffering throughout the proceedings.”
“I’ll get it together for the ceremony, I promise. It’s just, ugh, I don’t know. Shit.”
“Understatement of the century from the brightest witch of our age.”
“Good morning ladies, I come to deliver tidings from the men’s room. Oh, fucking hell, Hermione you look horrendous.” Theo said, grimacing as he entered the room without knocking.
“Thank you, Theo.” She downed her champagne, and put the glass on the table next to her.
“She’s fine.” Pansy waved a dismissive hand. “What news of my husband-to-be?”
“A steady rock in an ocean of panic is how I would describe it. The man is as calm as could be, in stark contrast to my own husband who is losing his fucking mind for some reason. I swear if he keeps dragging his hands through that hair, I will cut them off.” He flopped down into an ornate looking chair, subtly straightening his already perfect tie.
“You know Harry’s been panicking about his best man's speech, Theo. He’s practiced it with both of us enough times, but he’s just convinced it’ll go tits up, no matter what anyone says. Is there more champagne?”
“Not for you, I don’t want you chundering on my dress at the altar. Put away your self deprecating thoughts for a bit, yes?”
“Hermione, aside from the fetching shade of green that your face has taken on, you look fucking amazing. You are a good person, which is something that neither of us can claim to be, and you will have fun today, blonde pricks be damned, alright?”
“Didn’t take you as someone who was interested in positive affirmations.”
“I married Harry Potter, didn’t I? Are you gonna get ready soon, Pans? Time is decidedly not on our side, unless Hermione’s held onto her time turner.”
“You know I didn’t, Theo, it doesn’t matter how many times you ask.”
“It’s definitely in that bottomless bag of yours, and you will not convince me otherwise.”
“HARRY JAMES POTTER CALM THE FUCK DOWN.” Someone shouted outside the door, and Theo chuckled.
“Ah, love of my life, always so steady in a crisis.”
“My wedding is not a crisis, Theo.” Pansy admonished, summoning the make-up from her bag. It had been a surprise that the witch had refused a make-up artist, but apparently she didn’t trust anyone else to do it, and she wasn’t a person to be argued with.
Ginny then bowled into the room, slamming the door behind her.
“Theo, why is Harry in such a state? You’d think Neville would be panicking, but he’s just lounging about, not a care in the world.”
“My dearest Harold is slightly apprehensive about his speech later.”
“Why? He’s practiced it more than enough. You did it with him, Mione, didn’t you- Oh, fuck, look at you.” Ginny stammered, taking in Hermione’s grim face.
“Everyone is being so complimentary today, I do so appreciate it.”
“Hermione, I adore you, you know I do, but if you don’t do something about your situation, you will ruin my wedding photos and I will never forgive you.”
“I know, Pans, I’m sorry. I’ll just, er, get some air outside and get it together.”
“No more champagne! I know you! Do not! I will be able to tell if you walk up that aisle pissed!”
“I promise, I am just going outside.” She stood, smoothing her skirt, and ignoring the concerned faces of her friends as she left the room. She said a silent prayer that she wouldn’t bump into a certain wizard today, and walked as quickly as her strappy heels could carry her towards the door to the gardens. There was a light breeze, and she was glad Pansy had demanded her wild curls be tamed in a low bun, with a few pieces framing her face.
Hermione had had no idea that all of her slytherin friends were the owners of their own Manor houses. She’d known they were all the sole heirs of vast ancestral property portfolios and generational wealth, but she hadn’t ever comprehended quite how much. The Parkinson Estate was her favourite, much to the annoyance of the others, but Pansy had asked for her help in renovating the extensive sprawling gardens, alongside Neville of course, so she felt a little more at home here. Once, she might have said she felt at home in another Manor, but not anymore.
She wandered down one of the paths, not really paying much attention as to where she was going, letting her fingers catch the tops of the carefully selected plants either side of her, all lovingly cared for by Neville.
The Parkinson Manor itself was a stunning 17th century building, with a warm, welcoming aura about it. Hermione figured that was because it had been kept a secret, never inhabited by any dark wizards or used as a base for the death eaters. That was a petty thought to have, but she wasn’t above being vindictive.
She reached a hidden bench and sat down, careful to keep her dress crease-free, as she took several deep breaths, inhaling the delicate scent of the flowers around her. Her reverie was interrupted by a deep voice that sent her stomach plummeting to the floor. A voice she missed desperately.
“I’m sorry, Tori, but it’s Pansy’s day, I couldn’t convince her otherwise.” He was on the phone. Hermione scoffed, remembering that she had been the one to introduce him to the muggle technology. He couldn’t see her from where he was, as she was set back from the path on her hidden bench, but she could see him, pacing back and forth in front of the grand entrance to the house. She cursed him for looking that good in a suit. The audacity of the man.
“No, it’s not about her. Yes, of course she’s here, she’s the maid of honour, Astoria.” Hermione tensed as he spoke about her. The feeling that she was going to be sick returned with a vengeance.
“Why are you so worried about me being around her? I-” He cut himself off, his face a fixed mask of indifference. Hermione felt hot tears forming, and gripped the side of the bench tightly, forcing herself to breathe.
“I’ve never lied to you about this, not once. You know how I feel about you, and about Hermione.” If she hadn’t been sitting down, her knees would have buckled at the way he said her name. Merlin, how had it all gone so wrong? She wiped away the lone tear that had escaped, leaning further back into the safety of the plants surrounding her.
“Draco, mate, you out here?” Blaise called, making his outside. “Oh, sorry, er, we need you inside in a minute, alright?” Draco nodded, and Blaise disappeared once more.
“Look, I need to go. We’ll talk about this later, yeah?” He mumbled into the phone, pinching the bridge of his nose. He did that when he was stressed. Hermione didn’t like to remember how well she knew the man standing only a few metres away from her.
“Oh, um, yeah, uh. Ha. You too, I guess? Er, yeah, ok, bye.” He stuttered in a way that was uncharacteristic for him, and shoved his phone into his pocket.
“Fuck! Fucking fuck it all.” He yelled, looking up at the sky. “How did I end up here?” He muttered, and Hermione could have asked exactly the same question. He sighed deeply, straightening his shirt before heading back inside.
A monogrammed handkerchief was suddenly offered to her, and she jumped, realising she had company. Narcissa Malfoy offered her a sad smile as she accepted the square of fabric, gently drying her eyes.
“How are you doing, Hermione?” She asked, sitting next to her on the bench in her immaculate navy dress robes that Hermione suspected cost more than she paid in rent per month on the flat she’d been living in for the last 10 months.
“Could be better, I suppose.” She shrugged, and the elder witch nodded, looking out at the planting beds in front of them. “I just-” She cut herself off, not wanting to cry any more.
“I get it, it’s alright. It’s hard for me to see them together too, if I’m honest. It’s a small mercy that she isn’t here today.”
“I believe there were some threats from Pansy sent his way concerning the subject.”
“She’s always been protective of her friends.” Narcissa chuckled softly, brushing her fingers over the jasmine that trailed next to her. “Is there anything I can do?”
“No, that’s ok, Narcissa, thank you. I’m here for Pansy, anything else is secondary. Today isn’t about me.”
“If it’s too much, come and find me and we’ll disappear somewhere. I’ll happily face Pansy’s ire if necessary.”
“I didn’t think it would be this hard. I know I did this, it’s for the best, but it still hurts. I might need to take you up on that offer.”
“Then it’s a plan. I know you don’t want to hear this, but I do think you should just talk to him about everything, Hermione. You underestimate how much he loves you.”
“That’s the thing, Narcissa, I don’t. Not in the slightest. That’s why I had to let him go, and I had to make it so that he’d never come back. It hurts, it hurts like hell, but what’s done is done. No changing it now.”
Narcissa hummed, giving nothing away.
“I should get back to Pansy, see if she needs anything. I just needed a second to get my head on straight.”
Narcissa stood, and pulled her into a warm hug. “You will find me if you need to? You don’t have to be so strong all the time, Hermione.”
“Thank you for being so kind, Narcissa. I don’t know what I’d do without you, if I’m honest.”
“Anything you need, all you have to do is ask.”
She nodded, and smiled sadly at the Malfoy matriarch, before making her way back to the house. She could feel Narcissa’s eyes following her all the way.
Denial Is A Hell Of A Drug
“Right, I’m back, I’m firmly in denial, and today is going to be fucking amazing. Anyone need anything?” She announced as she waltzed into Pansy’s room.
“Excellent work as always, golden girl. Not in the slightest bit healthy, but we’re on a tight schedule so it’ll have to do.” Theo commented, still lounging in the chair he’d been in earlier.
“Can you help Daph with her hair, Hermione?” Pansy eyed her in the reflection of the mirror on her vanity.
“Absolutely. How are you feeling, Daph?” She approached the very pregnant blonde witch, gesturing for her to sit so she could brush out her long tresses.
“Round. Enormous. Elephant-like. I could go on.”
“Oh, come on, you’re glowing!” Theo exclaimed, waving his hands around his face, and earning himself a scowl.
“Fuck off, Theo. Can’t you go and suck off your husband or something, make him stop fretting for a second?”
“Oh! Excellent idea Daphne Greengrass! Go do that, Theo, it’s your solemn duty.” Pansy flapped her hands, guiding Theo from the room.
“Well, if you really think I should, I suppose I could be persuaded.” He smiled, and sauntered down the hall in search of Harry. Hermione drew Daphne’s hair back into a style similar to her own, securing the bun with a thousand pins to make it stay where she wanted it.
“How are you doing, Hermione?” Daphne asked quietly, her tone soft.
“I’m good. Very busy not thinking about certain people, it’s really taking a lot of my brain power actually. Just shoving everything down where I can’t find it for a few hours, until I can go and be sick in the bushes after they’ve finished taking the photos.”
“I’m glad you’re doing so well.” She said sarcastically, turning to face her. “It’ll be ok.”
“I know. Today is not about me, I feel like I’ve said that so many times already, but it’s the truth. I will not be a neglectful bridesmaid because I’m too wrapped up in shit of my own making.”
“Excellent, because I need you to help me get my dress on.” Pansy said, standing suddenly. Her hair cascaded down her back in gentle waves, half pinned up, with pearls laced through it. She already looked stunning, and Hermione knew the dress they’d chosen would complement her perfectly.
“Pansy Parkinson, let’s get you married.” She pointed at her best friend, who grinned, joy dancing in her eyes. Daphne squealed, and then groaned and clutched her stomach.
“Merlin, the sooner this baby is out, the better. I cannot take much more of her sitting on my bladder.”
“Better get used to it if you’re going to produce the Weasley army your husband wants.”
“Yes, I know, he wants his own quidditch team. Fuck.” She eased herself back into the chair, rolling her ankles.
Hermione grabbed the garment bag from the wardrobe and hung it on the door, unzipping the zip and fluffing out the skirt of the dress.
Pansy sighed. “I was worried I’d hate it when I saw it again, but thank Merlin I don’t. Get it on me right now, let’s do this shit.”
Hermione laughed, and delicately took the dress off the hanger, pushing away any thoughts of the way this might have been her wedding day if things had been different. She’d never be where Pansy is now. Where Daphne is. She forced a smile onto her face, and went to work on the abundance of delicate buttons making their way down the back of the gown.
Nothing Like The Original
Draco couldn’t stop moving. If he was standing, then he was pacing. If he was sitting, then his knee was bouncing. Either way, his hands were shaking and he didn’t know how to stop. He wasn’t the slightest bit prepared to see Hermione again, never mind the fact that she was about to be stood next to Pansy for the entire ceremony and he’d have no choice but to look at her. The witch that had owned his entire soul before she’d ripped his heart out and tossed it away like it meant nothing.
In the midst of his world falling apart around him, his father had taken full advantage. Somehow negotiating the entire thing via owls from Azkaban, he’d found out that his son and heir was single again following the dissolution of the Ministry’s law, and had finally put together the marriage contract between him and Astoria Greengrass. With his head unable to conjure any sort of thoughts that weren’t about Hermione, he’d been putty in their hands, agreeing to whatever they wanted just so they’d leave him alone faster. His life was so empty, so meaningless. Astoria had been ecstatic to hear that she would gain access to the Malfoy wealth after all, and had laid it on thick from the very start. Draco had done his best to conjure some sort of feelings for the woman, but in the end he’d given up, settling for bare faced lies. Of course he wasn’t still in love with Hermione, don’t be ridiculous, Astoria was the only one for him. He was doing his best to put on a show and make the best of the situation, and it had caused one hell of a rift between him and his mother, who refused to acknowledge Astoria at all and was incredibly vocal about her distaste for the woman.
More recently, Astoria had taken to curling her hair daily. Her usually pin straight brown hair was now always in tight curls, and Draco had to fight the urge to scoff whenever he saw her like that. As if making herself look more like Hermione would ever make her comparable. Astoria was cold, vapid, and entirely motivated by selfish intent. Even Daphne had cut her off. Hermione was, well, everything. Intelligent, warm, witty, beautiful, his whole world. Or she had been. Not anymore, he had to remind himself. It made him want to cry, which surprised him. He hardly ever cried, but this hurt more than anything he’d experienced before. It was like a part of him had been ripped away, and he didn’t understand why.
“You’ve got to get it together, mate.” Blaise muttered next to him, placing a steadying hand on his knee. “Today is for Pans and Nev, you can’t be this selfish.”
“I know. I’m trying.”
“Try harder.” His friend looked at him, face serious. He must be able to see the panic in Draco’s eyes, the internal war he was having. He was going to have to occlude, he had no choice. That’s what Blaise meant.
He nodded once, and packed away all of his thoughts about Hermione. He stored it all neatly, closing the door and burying it deep. There it was, that addictive feeling of nothingness. He finally stilled, and Blaise patted his leg twice before removing his hand.
The break up had blown their friendship group apart. With all that talk of not wanting to take sides like they had in the war, people certainly had, and for the most part, they hadn’t sided with him. Everyone still spoke to Hermione regularly, as far as he was aware. These days, he only regularly heard from Blaise, Pansy, and, surprisingly enough, Neville. The others were polite when necessary, but there was a tension that hadn’t existed before. Not even Theo would meet his eye anymore. He missed his best friend terribly, but he understood why he’d done what he had. He was loyal to his husband above everyone, and his husband would always be firmly in Hermione’s camp without a second thought or question.
He took a deep breath as the string quartet started to play a gentle tune, and Neville took his place at the altar, Harry by his side.
He was naturally talented at occlumency, stemming from his mother’s heritage. It was the only way he’d gotten through the war, a picture of indifference as innocents were tortured in front of him. It had never failed him, not once. The second he saw her again, smiling softly and clutching her bouquet of flowers like her life depended on it, all of his walls were promptly shattered. For the first time in his life, he was forced out of his occlumency haze by the sheer violence of the feelings he was trying to rid himself of. Apparently, he’d made some sort of likely pathetic-sounding noise because Ginny Weasley, who hadn’t spoken to him in months, was reaching across Blaise and grabbing Draco’s hand, squeezing with an aggressive amount of force that he was incredibly grateful for. Her nails pressed into his skin, and it grounded him enough to be able to watch Hermione walk down the aisle without having a burst of accidental magic as if he was a toddler. She was the most stunning witch he’d ever seen, the most beautiful thing he would ever see. She’d been his entire world for just short of four years, the best of his life without a doubt, and then one day, all of a sudden, she was gone. It wasn’t working, they both needed space, she couldn’t forgive his past enough to live in the Manor a moment longer, she would always live in fear and she couldn’t go on like that, etc etc. A blur of the things she’d thrown at him, as if she knew exactly what to say that would cut him deepest. She was so close, physically the closest they’d been in months, but she’d never been further away.
The music changed as she took her place at the altar, smiling happily at her fellow gryffindors, pointedly avoiding looking into the crowd. Pansy then entered, and she looked ethereal. He watched as Neville surreptitiously wiped away a tear, beaming at his beautiful bride. He could so easily fall into jealous thoughts at this moment. He could think about the ring that still sat in his top desk drawer, the one he refused to ever give to Astoria. He could think that this could have been him, watching his curly haired witch walk up the aisle as he stood proudly in front of all their friends and family, thanking any god that might be listening that he’d gotten so lucky. Instead, he smiled, focusing on how happy he was for the witch he’d grown up with, that she’d found true love for herself against the odds. Yes, her and Longbottom had been pushed together by the law, but with it gone, all that kept them together was the love they had for each other. That hadn’t been enough for him and Hermione, at least not for her.
The ceremony passed by quite quickly, all things considered, but that might have been to do with Draco zoning out entirely for some of it. Ginny finally dropped his hand, and took Blaise’s arm as the guests began to file out. She didn’t look at him or offer him a single word. He watched as Hermione took Theo’s arm, Harry at his other side, the three making a hasty exit.
“A lovely ceremony, wasn’t it? Not a nargle in sight.” Luna Lovegood sat down next to him, and he did a double take.
“Er, yes. It was nice. Are you having a good day so far?” He asked awkwardly.
“Better than you, by the looks of it. I think you should talk to Hermione, she has a lot to tell you.”
“What? Did she say that?”
“Oh, no. She doesn’t want to talk, she hasn’t told anyone any of it, you know what she’s like. Ah, perhaps you should take care of your guest first.” She tilted her head, and he turned to lock eyes with Astoria.
“What the hell are you doing here, Tori? Pansy asked you not to come.”
“I couldn’t miss the wedding of your dear friends, Drakey. They want me here really, I’m sure Pansy was just joking.”
He turned to where Luna had been, but the witch had already disappeared. He looked back at Astoria.
“Look, I really think it’s best if you go. We can’t spoil their day by causing a scene.”
“What scene would we be causing? I’m willing to be perfectly civil to anyone I might see today, it isn’t me that’s being childish.”
“Draco, mate, are you com- Oh. Hello Astoria.” Blaise said, returning to the now empty ceremony room.
“Hi Blaise! How are you and Geneva?”
“Her name is Ginevra, and we are well, thank you. I wasn’t aware you were coming today.” He bit out, looking between her and Draco.
“Oh, it’s a bit of a surprise. You know what Pansy’s like, always joking around with everyone.”
“Yes, that sounds like the Pansy I know.” Ginny replied testily, moving in behind Blaise.
“Oh, you look fabulous, what an interesting choice of dress. Such a unique colour. It’s so lovely to see you again.” Astoria said, gesturing to Ginny’s really quite nice pale blue dress with an obviously false smile. Draco was hoping the ground would swallow him up. Perhaps he could escape through one of the windows, dive out into the gardens?
Ginny folded her arms, and Blaise moved slightly in front of his witch, having grown to understand that she was quick to anger.
“Will you be joining us for the rest of today, Astoria? Or were you just dropping by?” Blaise asked, fixing a smile onto his face that didn’t meet his eyes.
“Oh, no, I’m here for the reception, silly. We love nothing more than dancing together, isn’t that right, Drakey?”
Ginny snorted at the nickname, and Blaise met his eyes, silently communicating with him.
Draco shook himself, and moved forwards. “Yes, that’s right, Tori. Why don’t we just pop outside for a second? The gardens are Neville’s pride and joy, it would be a shame not to see them whilst it was still light. Come on.” He grabbed her hand, and all but marched her through the other door, out into the grounds. She made to protest, but he was walking too quickly for her to disagree. He caught Blaise’s eye, and his friend nodded, turning to lead Ginny back inside. Ginny had the intent to murder written across her face, and he may not like Astoria much, but homicide was always a complicated thing to sort out, and he didn’t want that to overshadow Pansy’s wedding, so he needed to get her to safety.
They reached the gardens, and he finally dropped her hand.
Astoria sighed, and put her hands on his chest. “This will be us soon, can you picture it? It’ll be my dream day. I cannot wait to be Mrs Malfoy.” She leant in to kiss him, but he dodged, pulling her into a hug instead. He fought the urge to shudder.
“You need to go home, Astoria.”
She moved back, distancing herself from him. “Seriously? You don’t want me here? You’d take their side over mine? Over your wife?”
“You aren’t my wife, and yes, I would. Pansy asked you not to come today, and as it’s her wedding, it’s her choice. I don’t know why she asked this of you, but she did, and that’s it.”
She scoffed, tossing him a dirty look. “Like you don’t know why she asked me not to be here. I see how they all look at me. I’m the bitch who stole you away from prissy little perfect Hermione, I’ll never live up to her. Not in their eyes, not in the eyes of your mother, and certainly not in yours.”
“That isn’t true, I don’t know how many times I have to-” He ran a hand through his hair as she interrupted him.
“You know you talk in your sleep? You dream of her. Never me. I have given you everything you could ever want, but you’re somehow still hung up on the mudb-”
“Do not use that word, or we are done. Right here and now, Astoria, I’m not joking.” He said coldly.
“See?! You’d never be that protective over me. It’s all for Hermione bloody Granger. I don’t get it, she’s nothing special. No family, no wealth, no purity. What does she have that I don’t?” She shrieked, stamping her feet slightly.
“It’s not like that, Astoria, and you know it. You aren’t comparable. Look, let’s just go inside, maybe we can join dinner before it’s over, and then we’ll both head off early. We don’t have to cause a scene like this.” He tried to placate her, but she was having none of it.
“Cause a sce-'' She was cut off by the arrival of the groom, marching down the steps from the main house entrance.
“Draco, mate, I didn’t realise you were bringing your lovely lady! As soon as I heard, I got the elves to get another plate together, you’re more than welcome to join us Astoria. Come and sit down, it’s been too long since I’ve seen you.” Neville said jovially, offering his arm to Astoria. She shook her head, and walked ahead herself, tossing a polite smile behind her.
Neville’s smile dropped immediately. “If she says a single word to Mione, even one, I will hex her without hesitation. You understand?”
“Perfectly.” If Draco had ever wondered why the wizard was so well matched with Pansy, he had his answer staring him in the face. Neville had a quiet aggression about him, a controlled energy that commanded respect. He’d come a long way from the boy that lost his toad on the Hogwarts Express all those years ago.