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Chapter 31 : After the Wedding
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“You should really stop drinking or you’re going to end up like you were on New Year’s Eve,” muttered Draco with a smirk.
Hermione brought the glass down from her lips, the bubbly taste still fresh on her lips. She glanced nervously around the ballroom, now cleared for a reception. Tables of white cloth arranged perfectly around the dance floor with metal garden chairs with bows of green kept the tables company. Glistening glasses and pure white plates organized for at least eight people at each circular table. Most people were hovering about, talking to each excitedly. Flowers of snowy roses stood proud in center. Cake was being passed around after Hermione and Draco cut it.
“Maybe I want to end up like I was on New Year’s Eve,” she mumbled back.
“Stop looking around like that. It’s nothing, but smooth sailing from here. My mother gave her speech; we’ve cut the cake and posed for pictures. We’re done.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about,” said Hermione.
“Thanks,” said Hermione and Draco in unison to the passing man.
“So, what are you worried about, Mrs. Malfoy?” Draco smirked.
She rolled her eyes. “Please, don’t say that. It makes me sound like your mother.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Your father. He or the Lestranges haven’t come back.”
He frowned, “I don’t expect him to and you shouldn’t either.”
“Yes, but I’m afraid—”
“That what? My father is going to come up, dragging Rabastan’s body and hex everyone in here. Yeah, there’s a possibility of that.”
The fresh memory replayed endlessly in her mind. Lucius’ face blazing red with fury. The fleeting glares to her, as if she was going to pay for all of it. Rabastan looked almost, angry as well, muttering heatedly to Lucius. He gave her a passing look too, but it was nothing like Lucius’. It was almost…apologetic. Rodolphus didn’t even look at her. The mixture of feelings in her was unreal. The happiness of getting married, the guilt from Rabastan’s apologetic look and the frozen ice she swallowed from pure fear of Lucius.
“Maybe,” Hermione muttered.
“You’re so uptight about things. Relax,” Draco smirked, taking the glass flute filled with bubbly golden liquid and sipped it with his eyebrows cocked. He brought it down from his lips, clicking his wedding band against the glass to hear the little sound it made that he’s been obsessed to hear.
“You’re so mellow about it,” she smiled slightly.
How could he not be? He was in love with her and he understood that most people waited to officially be married for a couple of years even if they were madly in love with their partner, but he didn’t mind. He accepted he will learn more about her every day while they’re married, no need for “dating,” although they couldn’t have dated anyway. He was perfectly happy with how things are.
“Yup.” He handed her the drink back as she brought it slowly to her lips. “And tomorrow we leave on our honeymoon.”
Hermione snorted into her drink and pulled away from her drink, coughing. “Excuse me?” she croaked.
“Our honeymoon?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow.
“We’re going on a honeymoon?” she shouted.
He eyed her warily, lifting up the glass from her hand. “I think you had too much to drink.”
“Mal—Draco! Why didn’t you tell me?”
He leaned forward with a hand hitched in his pockets and a smirk playing on his lips. “I thought it was common consensus. Let me guess you didn’t read anything on how weddings and marriages work. In fact, I’m surprised.”
“Congrats to the couple!” hiccupped a woman, stumbling in which her date had to catch her from falling.
“Thanks!” Hermione and Draco shot quickly, returning to each other. Hermione glared at Draco as he smirked teasingly while eyeing her.
“In fact, Draco, I did read on weddings and marriages and all of that, but I didn’t expect us to be...—to be—allowed to go on one.”
“Well, we are, honey.” Someone, familiar came into his vision from the corner of his eye and he leaned back away from Hermione to scowling at Blaise.
Blaise walked to the couple with a glass flute of champagne in his hands and Astoria happily bouncing next to him. “Well, I’m supposed to say congrats to you two, but I’m not feeling it in me,” he said grimly.
“Well, how are you, Blaise? Looking better than I ever seen you before,” Draco smirked smugly with sarcasm dripping through.
Blaise’s jaw was still hanging low, but held up by the white bandages wrapped from under his chin and over his head. Not all the bruising was covered, the blacks and purples still dark against his skin.
“Congrats,” Astoria said happily.
“Thanks,” smiled Draco. “Surprised you’re taking it well.”
She shrugged. “I guess I lost to a good woman.” She glanced at Hermione cheerfully.
“And she won’t stop following me around,” growled Blaise, glaring down at Astoria.
“That’s because,” she drawled, taking the drink from his hand lightly, “You’re not taking care of yourself like the Healer told you to do. For one, you aren’t supposed to be drinking any alcohol.”
Blaise rolled his eyes aggressively then gazed at Hermione. “Well, I guess there isn’t anything to do, but to give up on you. You’re married now.” He turned to Draco. “So, nothing I can do. I mean I can try for a divorce—”
“Don’t you dare,” hissed Draco.
“Nah, I won’t. I’m done,” he nodded. “I’ll just let you two be each other’s downfall. Anyway, bye.” He gave them once last fleeting bitter smirk before sulking away.
“He’s as bitter as before, but I’m slowly getting to him,” beamed Astoria.
“Greengrass!” called Blaise.
“Coming! Anyway, bye-bye.” She skipped off after Blaise, her grin wide.
“Well, a lot of things can change in a matter of days,” smiled Hermione.
Draco sipped the last of the champagne. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“So happy for both of you!”
“THANKS!” shouted Hermione and Draco, to an old lady who had sight hearing loss.
“Seems like people are retiring for the night. Let’s ditch,” Draco muttered.
“Please, yes!” begged Hermione. “This dress is rubbing me the wrong way and my feet are killing me.”
Draco offered his arm and she draped her arm over his, walking slowly through the crowd and thanking everyone when they gave them the congratulations. Draco passed by Goyle who sighed heavily.
“Er—Hermione, go on without me. Me and Goyle have a few things we need to catch up on. I’ll be there in fifteen.”
Hermione nodded, taking her leave and with a glance back, she saw Goyle and Draco shaking hands with sad smiles on their faces. She wondered if Draco had any time for his friends anymore. By the looks of it, it didn’t seem like it. Was he as lonely as her? Maybe that’s why he’s been so reluctant to lose her. It was like she was all that he had… and he was all that she had.
Hermione snapped her head with wide eyes to Narcissa, smiling brightly at her. Hermione slightly smiled back. The name rang in her ears, sounding unfamiliar, yet so sweet.
“I have a little something to give you.” Narcissa held out a small, round bottle with plummy liquid. “Use this. Splash lightly on your neck, wrists and behind your ears.”
“Thank you, but what is this?” She gently took the bottle, cradling it in her hands.
“Just use it,” she smiled with kindness.
And that’s what exactly Hermione did. She couldn’t say she trusted Narcissa with all her heart, but her mind was unbearably curious. She patted the black cat, Regal before stepping into the bathroom. She unzipped the dress, it falling to the floor and she stepped out. She looked at herself in the mirror, hitching her breath. Why was she wearing this? Her eyes glimpsed over the lingerie. The white lacy corset tightened around her curves as the lacy underwear had garter belts bridging the knee high stocking to the lace edge of the thong. She knew why Narcissa had her dress in this under her wedding dress, but how likely would that interaction between her and Draco happen again? No, it wasn’t. She might as well take it off. But her eyes wander the bottle sitting on the counter.
She popped open the bottle and took a quick whiff. Nothing happen. She poured a little down the sink. It didn’t bubble or fizz. She pressed her finger on the opening of the bottle and turned it over. The liquid touched her swiftly on the pad of her finger. Yet still nothing. She bit her bottom lip, still thinking. Eventually, she put a little exactly where Narcissa told her to. Nothing happened. She stared at herself in the mirror with eyes narrowed and yet, nothing. The door opened and it was Draco. He stood there with his hand on the knob, looking at her up and down.
His arms dropped to his side. Draco felt this uncontrollable impulse of sexual hunger running wildly in him. He was shaking, holding himself back from the beautiful woman in front of her. He always wanted her, but not it seemed like he was unable to tame his arousal, his hunger, his greed for her. Draco rushed to her side, pulling her into an embrace and kissing and nibbling at her neck. Hermione fell weak to him, to his strong arms and moreover to the feeling of being wanted. He carried her off the bed, kissing her hard as her towered over her.
“You look beautiful as always,” he said huskily against her lips. “Sometimes I feel… I just feel like I can’t control myself around you…” He pressed his lips against her, feeling the tenderness of them and he bit down gently on her bottom lip. She quivered with a moan. She quivered from the pleasure her new husband have given her.
That was the first thing she heard in the morning, Draco’s call for her ringing in her ears. She shifted on her stomach and buried her face into the pillow, ignoring him.
Draco growled lowly, walking out of the bathroom with a round bottle in his hand with plummy liquid. “Granger!”
Hermione lazily pointed to the bedroom table next to her and Draco eyed her annoyed, but he still walked over the edge of the bed. He looked down to see a marriage certificate, her name clearly written, “Hermione Malfoy.”
“MALFOY!” he shouted at her.
“What?” she grumbled with a smile. “Malfoy.”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” he asked. “Lately you’ve been so lazy. Actually only on the mornings we had sex the night before…”
She grumbled something incoherent.
“What is this?” He held out the bottle to her.
She peeked from the pillow, squinting and her eyes adjusting to the flooding light. She gave a slight shrug. “Your mother gave it to me.” She buried her face back into the pillow.
He popped the bottle opened, sniffing the contents of the bottle. The same untamable impulse pulsed in him. The hunger grew as he stared at Hermione’s bare back, half exposed from the sheets. Quickly before he would act rash again, he capped the bottle. The greed for her subsided as his heart raced. What the fuck was that?
“Do you know what it is?” he asked, his voice low and threatening.
Hermione heaved a sigh and snatched the bottle from his hand, focusing on it. “I... How can I not realize this before!” she cried shrilly. “I’ve read about it—”
“Of, course you did.”
“This is Lola’s Sexual Solution.”
“It’s a new product for women. It’s like a perfume. She combined Amortentia, which is really complicated and she has to be bloody brilliant to do that, anyway, she combined with sex pheromones. I believe I read she’s half-blood. She combined the skills of potions and Muggle chemistry.” Hermione looked up at Draco who looked thoroughly confused. “Sex pheromones are chemicals the body releases to attract the opposite sex. Bloody brilliant. Fascinating!”
“You could have told me you wanted to have sex,” Draco smirked. “I mean I would have to think about it, but…”
“Shut it, Draco. I told you your mother gave it to me.”
“Sure,” he grunted. “Anyway, let’s move it. I want to leave already.”
Hermione looked up from the bottle, her eyes widening. “Oh, no! You’ve distracted me—”
“I’m pretty sure it’s the books and the ‘fascinating’ is what distracted you—”
“I haven’t even started to pack!” she cried shrilly, jumping off the bed, naked and as she begin to open drawers and the closet
“Nice ass!” he called, chuckling. “But you have a suitcase already packed. Cherry did it with a little help from my mother, don’t worry I thanked her on your behalf. Relax and just get ready.”
She looked down at her naked body and squealed, running to the bathroom, covering her intimate areas, embarrassedly. Draco rolled his eyes once she shut the bathroom door.
“You know we can just pretend we haven’t had sex on several occasions,” he said sarcastically. He slowly pulled on some clothes, his eyes darting around the room to make sure they did not forget anything that might have needed. When Hermione finally came out, she was cupping the curves of her chest, eyeing them then squeezed and completely ignored Draco.
"What is it you are exactly doing?" he asked with a smirk.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, slapping her arms to her side and a rosy blush tingling on her cheeks. "Nothing."
He cocked his eyebrow, "Doesn't look like nothing."
"Can I ask you something?" she said quickly.
"Did my—they...look bigger last night?"
"Yeah, I guess they did. Yeah, they actually did," he said, thinking about it.
"Yeah I thought so too. They feel a little heavy too. Like they’re swollen."
"Can I touch?" he smirked.
“Malfoy,” she scolded through gritted teeth.
“Okay, Malfoy. Let’s go.”
He stepped out of the room followed by Hermione, making their way into the living room. Narcissa was sitting properly on the love seat, waiting for them. Once they came into view, Narcissa sprung to her feet beaming.
“Well,” she smiled. “I hope you two enjoy yourselves. Did you enjoy yourself last night?” Her eyes twinkled at Hermione.
“Mother,” growled Draco, “could you please not give things like that to her? It was not needed.”
“Draco, dear, sometimes you can be a bit stubborn. I was only helping. Did you like her outfit?”
Draco’s face fell in embarrassment as Hermione looked away with a rosy blush, tingling on her cheeks, but neither answered.
“I can only hope for grandchildren soon.”
“Mother,” Draco muttered, “we just got married yesterday. Can we just go on our honeymoon first, please?”
“Honeymoons are where those type of things happen,” she winked at Hermione.
“Enough.” Draco pulled Hermione by the arm toward the front entrance.
“Wait, dear!” called Narcissa. “For you.”
Narcissa handed her a small box, smiled and waved as Draco continued to drag Hermione out of the mansion. Outside, the harsh air filled her lungs, feeling the freshness consume her. The cold nipped at every exposed skin and her cheeks stung from the icy winds.
“Where are we going anyway?” she asked.
“It’s a surprise,” he replied gruffly.
“How are we getting there? It’s a surprise,” she mocked him with a small smile creeping on her lips.
He suppressed a smile as well, but led her through slip of the hedge to a small path of beige cobble stone, the hedges towering over them and pointing in the direction. Soon enough, the hedges became short and short until there was none left other than a field and a black street that ended in the grassy plane, leading nowhere like a runway. On the street was a shiny black luxury car, set low to the ground.
“You own a car?” Hermione exclaimed. “So the place is drivable?”
“Just come!” He let go of her, running into the field toward the car with a grin on his face and the keys jingling in his hand. She sprinted after him, the dead grass crunching under her feet. Draco skidded to a halt, opening the driver’s side and slamming it. Hermione stopped in front, peering in through the tinted window. She heard Draco’s muffled voice, “Come in!” Warily, she opened the door and slid onto the firm, but silky leather seat. She shut the door staring at Draco.
“Do you even know how to drive?”
She clicked her seatbelt on, but returned her focus to him. “It’s drivable then?”
Draco completely ignored her. He started the car, it revving to life with a roar, pulled back the handle to D and pressed on the gas pedal. The car moved forward, speeding as the end of the walkway was nearing.
“DRACO!” cried Hermione shrilly. “You’re going to end up in the field.”
He pressed two buttons on the steering wheel and the car jerked up and up, slowly lifting off the ground as Hermione began to dramatically gasp for air while clutching her shirt over her heart. The black of the car’s front was regressing, disappearing like gradient until she could see right through it. Shakily, she leaned forward onto the dashboard, peering out and quickly snapped her body back into the seat which made Draco snigger.
“I wish you would have prepared me for this,” she muttered weakly.
He shrugged. “So, I can miss your reaction? No thanks.”
Again she peered out of her passenger window, taking deep breaths to unravel her nerves. When she was finally settled in about an hour, she leaned back as relaxed as she could, but her shoulders were still tense. “What are you doing with a car anyway? Surprise you even have one since its muggle technology.”
“I got it for my eighteenth birthday when I went to go travel to Italy for a month. The Weasel’s fiasco gave me the idea. We can’t apparate to other countries, they are much too far and riding on a broomstick can be uncomfortable especially if it’s for hours and when it’s cold and what happens when it’s raining or more than one person is traveling or you have luggage—”
“Okay, I get the point.”
“So, this makes sense. I did the charms myself though,” he smirked smugly. “The Weasel’s dad is a git, grown wizard and my invisibility charm is better than his.”
“Don’t talk about him like that please,” she muttered sadly, looking out at the rolling hills of dead green. “But I think you did a great job. How did you learn to drive though?”
“It’s easy. Don’t understand why muggles need to take a test. It’s stupid, no offense.”
“None taken,” she smiled. “So let me drive.”
“Absolutely not. You’re going to crash and kill us.”
She rolled her eyes. “Please, I—”
“Read about it. Yes, I know. You are not relaxing.”
“That’s what you been saying all day,” she mumbled, snuggling herself in the seat. “So are you going to tell me where we’re going?”
“No, it’s a surprise.”
“You’re going to push me out of the car in the middle of the ocean.”
He laughed, “That sounds like a plan. I was thinking a volcano, but the ocean is much nearer than the closet volcano.”
She flicked his arm lightly.
“OUCH!” he howled in fake pain, swerving the car.
“DRACO!” Hermione shrieked shrilly.
He straightened out the car with a snigger as she grunted angrily, Again she gazing out the window, fiddling with the box in her hands. Then, she decided to slowly open the box Narcissa gave her. Inside was the watch she order, three bronze hands labeled in a white cursive, Draco, Narcissa and Lucius. The backdrop of the watch was a parchment color. In small lettering, the places were labelled delicately. She ran her thumb over it, gripping the brown leather strap, watching the hand labelled for Draco. It said “traveling.” Narcissa was “home.” Lucius was at “work.” Draco glimpsed from the sky to Hermione.
“What is that?” he asked, softly.
“A watch. It lets me know what you’re doing along with your mother and your father…”
“Why would you want that?”
“To make sure you’re all safe.”
“Even my dad?”
“Yes.” She gazed out the window sadly.
If it wasn’t for his father, she wouldn’t have fell in love. She even appreciated him. When did she become so selfish?
“Hermione, wake up,” Draco whispered softly, squeezing her thigh. She grumbled, her eyes fluttering open to see splashes of colors painted on the sky. Magenta settled upon the burnt orange and hazy yellow. The sun was shining yellow-white, dipping into the black horizon.
“Oh, Draco,” she gasped. “It’s beautiful.” She squeezed his hand.
He smiled ahead of him, the car dipping lower and lower and he grabbed her hand, interlacing his fingers with hers. Hermione peered out the window, leaning forward with her forehead pressed against the glass. She could see in the distance, clear blue water waving gently at her and the pink sand waiting for her arrival.
“Where are we?” she gasped.
Draco smirked, landing the car on a black concrete runway and finally skidded to a halt. Before he hoisted himself out of the car, he looked at her with a smile and kissed her on her hand. Hermione stepped out with her hand over her mouth in shock. Draco looked all too pleased with himself.
The water was a cool blue, reflecting the white and yellow of the sunset as the sand was tinted gold. The few wispy clouds strolled, tingling orange from the light caressing it. Off to the corner was a single hut with a short boardwalk and a deck in the water. The hut was made of yellow woods and the roof of gray-brown straw. The little island other than that was empty.
They were completely alone.
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