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Don't Touch My Mudblood by SkyeSloane
Chapter 20: Happily Ever After
Chapter Twenty: Happily Ever After
After much planning (most of which I left up to the ladies of the family, and by that I mean my mother, Hermione’s mother, Hermione and Mrs Weasley) and months and months of waiting, the wedding finally happened.
I didn’t really care much about it, honestly. I just wanted my ring on her finger, my last name tacked on after her first name, and the whole world to know that she’s mine and to back off. But she wanted something grand (or, well, my mum did) so a grand celebration we had.
Here are the highlights of the wedding:
Hermione was obviously gorgeous. She had on this little number that showed her back but was conservatively covered with see-through lace. It made me want to rush the minister with the whole ceremony thing and rip it off her.
Erm. Let’s see, what else?
Yeah, that’s about it. I suppose the place looked nice, decorated with white and purple flowers of some sort, and Weasley and Potter didn’t make too much of a mess, so that’s always good. The reception that followed was alright. The food was impressive and the drinks kept refilling themselves. Guests got plastered and everyone was happy. My friends made me look like a complete idiot after letting on that I had nothing to do with the ladies at my stag party because I’m whipped. Yeah, yeah, so I love my fiancée, is that so much of a crime? Besides, those girls in the stag party couldn’t hold a candle to my Hermione.
We then apparated to the Caribbean where we spent our honeymoon week locked up in one of the best rooms of the best hotel they had to offer. I can’t even explain how wonderful it felt to finally have her. How can I say this without sounding too obscene?
See, when a Veela and his mate, you know, mates, that’s the one time both of them can feel each other’s feelings. So our pleasure during the act (if you know what I mean) intensifies more so than the average couple. So yeah, I was a very busy boy the whole seven days we were there.
At the moment, we were at Hermione’s parent’s house in her old room, packing her belongings that she’d like to move to our new house. She agreed she wanted to live in the wizarding world (score one for me) and near the Weasley’s (retracted score for me), so we purchased the lot next to theirs. Hermione says Ron and the twins were thinking of buying the other lots around them so they could still be near their parents, so it works out just great when we’re all grown up. Our kids will have a jolly old time growing up together. Please, feel the sarcasm.
I fell back on Hermione’s bed after an hour of packing her most prized books into boxes. “Let’s take a break,” I said, pulling my arm over my head and closing my eyes. The amount of books we packed rivalled the amount of books we had in the Malfoy library.
“Sorry, are you tired?” Hermione asked, sitting next to me and brushing my hair off my face.
I opened one eye to look at her. “A bit,” I admitted.
Closing my eye again, I felt her lean over and brush her lips over mine. I smiled and kissed her back. Its times like this that make me feel like the luckiest man on Earth. Hermione, as I’ve learned during our honeymoon, is a very affectionate person and would kiss me at the most random moments, just because she wanted to. Before our marriage, I was used to being the one who initiated anything remotely romantic. I never thought much of it as she always returned my advances enthusiastically, but now that she’d go out of her way to hug me or kiss me or even just hold my hand and lean on me, well, that’s something, alright.
She sighed and lay down next to me, her head on my shoulder and her arm around my torso. I pulled her closer to me and started trailing my hand up her shirt and just under her bra. I was about to score too, were it not for her own hand stopping mine from going anywhere else.
“What?” I asked, looking at her innocently. “Don’t tell me you don’t want to.” Trust me, most of the times back in the Caribbean, it wasn’t me doing the seducing. Well, okay, half the time it was me.
“Not in my parent’s house!” she hissed.
I groaned in disappointment. Old Hermione was back and Caribbean Hermione was nowhere to be seen. Acquiescing, I placed me hand a respectful distance away from where I wanted it, but stubbornly kept it under her shirt. The feel of her skin was just too warm for my hand to go elsewhere.
She kissed my chin. “When we arrive at our new house, let’s christen the new bed we bought, shall we?” she smiled, kissing my nose first before descending on my lips.
I kissed her back, strongly and persuasively, until she was under me and mindless that she just asked me to stop as I started undressing her. A few minutes passed, and she had returned the favour with much fervour as I had, when she abruptly stopped and lightly pushed me away.
“My parents could walk in on us any second.”
“We’re married, it’s not like we’re doing anything wrong,” I countered.
“No,” she said. “But still, it’s not right to do it under their roof. Come on, if we finish packing, we can go to our home and do whatever we want.”
I childishly blew a raspberry at her but rolled of the bed nevertheless and helped her back into her clothes.
“Alright, alright,” I grumbled, once she was fully dressed. I started buttoning up my shirt again and went back to her dresser where she kept some of her collection of books.
“Do you need this dictionary with you?” I asked, showing her an old blue Collins dictionary that has clearly been overused. “We can just get a new one.”
“I want it.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“What?” She asked. “It’d be a waste to buy a new one when I have a perfectly good one with me.”
“I do own several dictionaries, you know. None of them as tattered as this one.”
“Yeah, but this one has writings on the sides. Information that I might need someday.”
I sighed and gave in, packing it into one of her boxes next to me.
We were quiet for a while, as I filled boxes with books and she filled boxes with clothes and other sentimental objects from her childhood. I stopped at a moleskin notebook, knowing immediately that it was a journal. Wondering what went on in her mind as a child, I opened it and started reading.
There was nothing new to learn though. Hermione, at the age of eleven, was every bit as clever and curious as she is today. She read a lot of books, but that’s no surprise. Her room was covered with books, some of them stacked up on the floor next to the wall as she’s run out of room on her bookshelves. She watched a lot of historical television shows, wondering how it felt to live in the middle ages. She wrote of a friend at school whom she was particularly close to. There was a part of me that ached to be that friend. That friend whom she’d share her lunch with and spend Saturdays and Sundays with. This notebook appeared to be the summer before she was to leave for Hogwarts and she felt unsure if she’d ever see Maggie (her friend) again.
“Darling?” I called out.
“Yeah?” she grunted, her body nowhere to be seen, but her voice sounded like she was halfway under her bed.
“Whatever happened to Maggie?”
“You know, Maggie, your childhood friend before you went to Hogwarts.”
“Oh. Erm. She’s off to uni in Scotland.”
I went back to my reading but seconds later, Hermione’s head popped up from the other side of her bed.
“Hey! How do you know about Maggie?”
I held up the notebook I was reading.
“That’s my journal! HOW DARE YOU READ MY JOURNAL!” she shrieked, climbing on top the bed and charging at me.
“Woah,” I said, holding my hands up in surrender, “is there something in here I shouldn’t know about?”
“That’s private property –“
“Is there a boyfriend in here I should know about?” I narrowed my eyes at her and kept the journal out of her reach. “Because I swear, I will hunt him down and kill him.”
“You married me, that should be good enough,” she retorted. “Now give it here.”
“I don’t think so,” I said and raised the journal higher and started scanning through the pages faster, looking for that old boyfriend of hers.
“I was eleven then, of course I wouldn’t have a boyfriend. Now give it!”
“Just one moment,” I said, holding her away from me and the notebook even further away from her.
“How would you feel if I read your journal? If I know every single thought that ran through that mindless head of yours when you were younger?”
I shrugged. “You know everything there is to know about me, darling. I tell you everything. I think I did keep several journals on and off before. I’ll give them to you.”
“But,” she said, still trying to claw her way to her journal. “You can’t do this. It’s against my will!”
“Hm.” I thought of that for a second. “There’s nothing stopping me. I think you subconsciously want me to read this.”
“I don’t, I really don’t,” she said but gave up and sat on her bed, sulking.
My eyes widened at the last entry. Her Mr Darcy, eh? Who the hell is Mr Darcy?
My very own Mr Darcy should be:
…and will only love me. No one else.
A fictional character, from the looks of it. It looked to be a list of characteristics her future boyfriend should have. I grinned. She was smart and psychic.
“Sweetie, look at that. You picked me to be your husband even before you met me!” I exclaimed, excitedly sitting down next to her and gave her a sloppy kiss on the cheek.
I pulled her against me with my arm wrapped around her side and shared the journal with her. “See? You wanted someone articulate,” I waved my free hand at my body, showing her one very articulate man.
She rolled her eyes.
“Handsome, no question about that,” I grinned and looked at her, rubbing my nose against hers. She was annoyed, that much I knew, but she was amused as well. She wouldn’t show it but I do have my Veela senses. “Well-groomed, well-travelled... Check and check. Sweet. I’d say I’m sweet, yeah?”
“No,” she answered petulantly.
“Of course I am,” I said, dismissing her childish antics and kissed her again on her temple. “Intelligent, check. I ranked second in the class, just right after you. Cultured, why of course. And lastly –“
“Will only love you and no one else.”
There was a pregnant pause, her eyes averted away from me.
“Hey,” I said softly I cupped her chin and tilted her head to face me and looked her in the eye, dead serious this time. “I love you. I’m so in love with you, it frightens me sometimes. What if I’m not good enough for you? What if I can’t ever live up to your expectations? I know I can be a real pain sometimes, but I honestly love you and will never love anyone else the way I love you.”
“Oh shut up,” she shoved me away, but I could tell she was touched.
I kissed her again, just a way to convey my emotions. I hated being so mushy but I wanted her to know what I felt at that moment.
“I love you too,” she said. “And you can never fail me. I mean, you’re smart but you can be an idiot at times, but that’s alright. Because when it comes to the big things, you never let me down.”
I smirked. “And I never will,” I said and playfully reached for her hand and pressed it to my crotch.
“Draco!” she yelled and pushed me off the bed.
“What?” I said, laughing on the floor. “It’s big!”
10 years later
The doorbell rang and Hermione Malfoy rushed to get it, knowing her husband and two children were busy in the living room doing “boy stuff”.
Her two little boys, Simon, four years old, and Paul, eight years old, always had Wednesday lunch with their father. Draco Malfoy was a rather busy man, but he was devoted to his family. Weekends were for him, the missus and the children, whereas Wednesday lunch was just for him and the boys. He made it a point to come home for lunch on Wednesdays or asked Hermione to drop them off work when she wasn’t busy with work herself. As a writer, Hermione had her time to herself, so it was alright.
“Hermione!” Narcissa greeted her, stepping into the foyer and kissing her cheeks before hanging her coat on the nearby coat rack.
“Hullo Narcissa, Sirius,” she said with a smile and gave Sirius a kiss on the cheek as well.
“You look well, Hermione,” Sirius said, giving her a big hug.
“Thank you,” she replied, leading the way to the drawing room.
It was Harry’s birthday in just two days and Mrs Weasley wanted all the surprises she could get for him. Sirius insisted that he wanted something grand for his godchild and Narcissa wanted to help. Ten years after repairing their broken relationship, Narcissa has made enormous progress in winning back Sirius and has even taken a liking to Harry, considering him as much a godson to her as he was to Sirius, much to Draco’s dismay.
“I know he’s not much for a ballroom, but I really, really think –“
“Narcissa,” Sirius warned.
“What? Molly invited so many guests, do you really think they would fit in your house?”
“It’s Harry’s birthday, we should at least respect that he doesn’t want it in your house where a guest would break a vase and he’d feel guilty –“
Narcissa sniffed. “It was just a thought.”
“Narcissa, Sirius, if I may?” Hermione cut in, not wanting another childish argument. For every get-together they’d have, Narcissa and Sirius managed to create a little disagreement that would last for hours.
“Sure,” Sirius said warmly.
“Well, remember that Christmas ten years ago? It was the first time you and Narcissa had Christmas together after so many years.”
“Oh yeah, lovely Christmas, that one. Poor Draco, being bullied into wearing that jumper.”
Hermione laughed. “Yes, well, you remember the present Narcissa gave you? The one they hid from you?”
“Yes,” Sirius said and narrowed his eyes at Narcissa, past feelings being brought back.
“I gave it back, didn’t I?” Narcissa retorted.
“Yes, that one, well, Harry’s always been curious what it was that had you so peeved. You could tell him the story of how that happened and I promise you he’d love that.”
Sirius crossed his arms, unsure if he was willing to tell the story.
“Oh yes!” Narcissa clapped her hands. “I have it all in my pensieve as well.”
“What? No!” Sirius adamantly disagreed.
“Oh come on now Sirius. Make your godchild happy,” Narcissa insisted.
“Seriously? Were you two always like this?” Hermione interrupted.
“Yes,” they both answered.
“Well if you don’t like that idea, then we’ll just have to think of another present.”
“It’s a lovely idea,” Narcissa said and turned to look at Sirius. “That was years ago, it should be fine. Harry would love it.”
Sirius sighed. “I guess. Alright. Bring a pensieve, we’ll share it with him on his birthday.”
“Lovely,” Hermione said, smiling brightly at them. “Out of curiosity, what did happen? What was the present you gave him?”
“Oh it’s Bubba,” Narcissa smiled, patting Sirius on the hand affectionately. Sirius glared back at Narcissa but said nothing. “Up until the age of seven, Sirius would carry this blue and pink stuffed teddy bear with him wherever he went. Even out in public. He called him Bubba.”
“Don’t talk of Bubba like he’s dead,” Sirius sniffed.
Narcissa rolled her eyes. “Well when Sirius turned eight, he stopped bringing Bubba everywhere he went, because of the looks he was getting from other people, so he hid him.”
“I only told Narcissa where it was because she asked but I told her not to tell Bellatrix because I knew she’d do something to him. And I was right.”
“I’m sorry, alright? He’s with you now, isn’t he?”
Sirius refused to look at Narcissa but acknowledged that Bubba was nice and safe with a curt nod. Narcissa just rolled her eyes.
A half hour of tea later, Sirius and Narcissa were back in good terms and made to leave, but not without stopping by to say hi to the kids.
They found Draco lying down comfortably on the couch with his feet propped up on the coffee table. Simon was on his lap and Paul sat next to him.
“So there I was, minding my own business in Potions when your mother started coming on to me. She started asking me out, but Pansy, you know Aunt Pansy, yeah?”
“Yeah,” the children nodded, transfixed by their father’s story.
“Yeah, well Pansy really fancied me as well. So your mom had to fight for my love –“
“Oh really?” Hermione interrupted, standing by the doorway and looking at her husband incredulously.
“Oh, hello love, didn’t notice you there,” Draco said with a smile that always swept her off her feet.
“That’s not quite how I remember it,” Narcissa added, siding with Hermione. “I remember you were so helplessly in love with Hermione but she never gave you the time of day.”
“Mum!” Draco whined and tried to cover Simon’s ears. “Don’t listen to grandma, she’s old and senile and doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”
“No she’s not!” Simon said and ran to Narcissa and Sirius to give them hugs. Paul followed and gave them hugs and kisses as well.
“Great, now my kids will never know how their parents got together,” Draco complained but grudgingly went over to his mother and gave her a kiss on the cheek and greeted Sirius with a manly embrace.
“If you want them to know the real story, you shouldn’t lie to them,” Narcissa tutted. “Now your father’s coming home Friday morning and we’d love to have you over for dinner, would that be alright?”
“Erm, Hermione?” Draco asked.
“Sure, we’ll be there. What time?” Hermione answered.
“Around seven would be lovely.”
“Seven it is then,” Hermione smiled. “Give grandma and great-uncle Sirius a kiss now boys,” she told Paul and Simon after Narcissa gestured they’d be leaving.
After several hugs and kisses and having ushered Narcissa and Sirius out the house, Draco and Hermione went back into the living room with their boys.
“So what did you guys do with daddy today?” Hermione asked them, looking at them fondly.
She loved how they were a perfect mixture of her and Draco. The boys had striking pale blond hair and grey eyes, just like their father, but their nose, lips and high cheekbones they got from their mother.
“We played Quidditch!” Simon said, referring to the mini-Quidditch games they’d have. They had the small broomsticks that would only fly a foot from the ground.
“And daddy told us how you two met,” Paul said.
“All lies, I’m sure,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes at Draco who feigned innocence.
“Daddy said he really loved you but it was very difficult,” Simon said, his face scrunching up, trying to remember the details.
“You didn’t love him first,” Paul spoke up. “Is it true, mummy? Because you love daddy very much.”
“Of course I love daddy very much, but you know how annoying he can be sometimes,” Hermione said.
“Like that time he threw powder at you in the kitchen?” Simon asked.
“Yeah,” Hermione said, remembering when Draco threw pancake flour at her as a means of a good morning greeting one day. “Exactly. But I love him now and that’s all that matters.”
“Yeah you do,” Draco said with a big smile and placed a sloppy kiss on her lips.
“So what was the me coming on to you story?” Hermione asked.
Draco shrugged. “The boys wanted to hear different versions of the story. I was doing a choose your own adventure type thing with them.”
“Ah,” Hermione said. “Well then,” she settled on the couch and entangled her feet with Draco’s on the coffee table, placing Simon on her lap and Paul on Draco’s. “Tell us more.”
A/N: Sorry for taking forever to update, I just really had no idea how to end this. But well, here it is. Sorry if it's a bit too short for your liking. I'll probably come up with a string of one-shots just to give this a proper ending. Answers to your questions/reviews in general will be in the review page.
So goodbye, thanks for everything, and let’s all have a good cry when Deathly Hallows 2 premieres. :) See you all in Pottermore! xx