A new D/Hr story
Title: Planning a Perfect Wedding
Author: BobotuberPus
Pairing: D/Hr
Rating: NC-17, with fluff
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine. I am borrowing characters from JK Rowling, until she sees the light and writes D/Hr.
A/N: For IATQO Weekly Challenge # 20, which asked for the following elements to be included: rain, a hug, something yellow, a song, broken glass. I really just wanted to write a PWP that involved Dramione elevator sex.
Summary: Planning the perfect wedding may have cost Hermione her own marriage
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It was raining outside, but in her semi-awake state, Hermione noted irately that it was too bright in the room. If it was any other morning, she would have felt for her wand on her bedside table and mutter a spell that would close the drapes. But it was by no means a normal morning. Her head was plastered to the pillow, and in her initial attempt to lift it, she realized it felt weighed down by a ton. The rain pounding on the windows echoed the pounding inside her head. So she gave up. Besides, she couldn’t have gotten up if she wanted to, anyway. Crookshanks had slept on her stomach. Again. Crooks had gained a few pounds in his old age. In the month since Draco moved out, her familiar had taken to sleeping on the Hermione’s bed. It afforded little comfort to Hermione, but at least she had something to curl into. Hermione tried to turn over, hoping to dislodge the half-kneazle. Only Crookshanks seemed to have wrapped himself tighter around her midsection.
“Get off, Crookshanks…” Hermione muttered grumpily into the pillow, shoving her familiar off. Only instead of a disgruntled meow, it let off a very human growl. And instead of fur, she felt a strong muscular arm wrap tighter around her as it pulled her against a warm body.
Wait, what?
More awake now, Hermione turned to her right and almost screamed when she came face to face with a smirking Draco Malfoy. A Draco Malfoy who happened to be just as naked as she was.
“G’morning, love.”
Omigod. Hermione cast a quick glance around and confirmed she wasn’t in her bedroom at home but in some hotel suite.
With her mouth hanging open in shock, Draco seized the opportunity to lean over and shove his tongue down her throat. He felt Hermione begin to respond to his kiss, so he deepened it, one hand tangling her hair while the other caressing her bare arm.
Hermione’s muddled thoughts finally organized themselves. “Mmmmffff…Get.Off.Me.Malfoy!” Draco fell back on the bed after being shoved off.
Hermione sat up, gathering the sheets around her in a failing attempt at modesty. She didn’t stop to think why she bothered. Her head was pounding from the shock of suddenly getting up; yet her body was aching for Draco, demanding something back that it had been deprived of for weeks.
Draco tried to tug sheets away, cajoling,” C’mon, darling, what happened to ‘oh god, Draco, deeper, faster!’?”
Hermione sputtered incomprehensibly as she tugged the sheets back. She scooted away from him. Damn the wizard for looking so… so delectable in his sleep-tousled state, Hermione thought.
“A temporary lapse in sanity, apparently!” she said vehemently, though a tiny voice asked if she was really just trying to convince herself of that.
What happened last night? Bits and pieces of the previous evening slowly came into recollection. Ginny’s bachelorette party. The passable wizard strippers. Hermione partaking in shot after shot. Hermione being escorted back to her room by…
“I was hoping it was a step towards reconciliation.”
She stared at him incredulously. “Keep hoping, you prat. You think you can bed me and I’ll forget about you moving out of the flat last month?”
His playful demeanor faded to be replaced by a dark look.
“You’ve been so busy with this damned wedding, I didn’t think you’d notice I was gone,” he said petulantly.
“Oh, I noticed all right! Especially when the Prophet announced we..we were divorcing and the article had a picture of you and that…that…tart!” She threw a pillow at him, as she tried to keep angry, heartbroken tears at bay at the memory of the hurtful article.
She’d scrambled off the bed, realizing that his close proximity, especially in his very naked state, could rapidly undo her resolve. She stood facing him, clutching the sheets close to her body as if they were a shield. Her hair was abnormally frizzy, her face red and contorted in anger directed at him. Draco had never seen anyone so beautiful. And shaggable.
“Hermione…” Draco crawled towards her, unmindful of his nakedness. A naked Draco Malfoy on all fours on a rumpled bed was a sight Hermione could never get enough of.
If it was any other day, Hermione would have pounced on him, disagreements and tabloid articles be damned.
But it was not any other day. Her marriage was in limbo, and her bastard of a husband just tried to coerce a reconciliation out of her by shagging her through the night.
Until last night, she had not seen him in a month. Things had not been going well with them. She still didn’t realize when things started to go wrong. The past six months had been spent obsessively putting together a perfect wedding for Harry and Ginny. It was not until Draco moved out of the flat that Hermione was forced to recognize that something was wrong. She decided to give him some space, not contacting him for two weeks. Unfortunately, by the time she decided he’d had enough “alone” time, The Daily Prophet announced Draco Malfoy wasn’t so alone after all.
An article about their rumored impending divorce was accompanied by a picture of Draco and a leggy blonde dining together. The picture was taken from a distance, with the subjects unaware of the photographer. The blonde seemed very animated and flirtatious with Draco. Draco seemed to respond just as flirtatiously to the blonde. He didn’t look anything at all like someone affected by the end of his marriage.
Hermione threw all of herself into the Weasley-Potter wedding planning, resolving to deal with her own personal drama afterwards. She wasn’t going to let this ruin Harry and Ginny’s perfect day. Besides, the wedding planning proved to be a useful distraction from her rapidly breaking heart.
Ginny insisted that her Bachelorette Party take place at M, a trendy new hotel. It was a sixty floor modern building in the posh part of London. A five star hotel by Muggle standards, it catered to the upper echelons of Wizarding society. Reservations were hard to come by because not a knut was spared to make the clients’ stay memorable. The hotel was renowned for its service as well as for the paid House Elves on staff. It was the kind hotel that should host the wedding of the savior of the Wizarding world. The Weasley-Potter wedding was to take place in the Grand Ballroom. Hermione advised against having the bachelorette party at the same hotel as the wedding. Ginny insisted, telling her that it was the perfect place, as all of the wedding guests were already staying there. The owner of the hotel, as a favor to his wife, had blocked off the entire building exclusively for the wedding and the pre-event festivities. If any of the wedding guests got too pissed at the stag and bachelorette parties, they can just crawl back to their rooms and not have to miss out on the wedding the following day.
The bachelorette party was underway, but Hermione just didn’t feel like celebrating. She had exhausted herself in the past weeks attending to every detail of the wedding. Now that it was the night before, she was dreading the event itself because she knew she’d have to deal with Draco and her marriage as soon as Harry and Ginny left for their honeymoon. Whatever the outcome, even if she did ended up divorcing Draco Malfoy, she was glad she’d been able to do this for Harry and Ginny.
Not being in a celebratory mood didn’t keep Hermione from imbibing. She deserved it, after all the personal drama she’d gone through. The stress of planning a wedding had take a toll. She made a toast to Ginny and to the Weasley clan. She made a toast to colleagues at the Ministry and old friends from Hogwarts. She lost count after her seventh shot. She heard a glass break, but wasn’t sure if she’d done it. When a Muggle song she was familiar with came on, she attempted to sing along to it, unsuccessfully.
She vaguely remembered hearing Ginny say to someone, “Please take her up to her room,” and giving that someone her room number. She didn’t remember protesting that this information shouldn’t be given out liberally to strangers. It wasn’t until they’d reached the lift when Hermione looked upon her “rescuer” and realized he wasn’t a stranger at all.
“Hermione, love, we need to talk.” Sexy, naked man with the bedroom voice brought her back to the present. He was no longer on all fours on the bed. Instead, he was seated on the edge of the mattress, his muscular legs on either side of hers. He looked up at her expectantly. She, however, refused to return his gaze, choosing instead to stare at her toes and waited for him to begin.
“Draco...” It was more of a question, really. She wanted to ask what he was doing here, with her, on a lift. But with her thoughts and emotions in a jumble, the words couldn’t seem to get out. She pushed away from him and he let go. She was already unsteady from too much alcohol, and the movement of the lift caused her pitch forward. Deftly, he caught her and held her to himself.
“What are you doing here? You weren’t invited.”
“I live here.” Hermione had a fleeting thought that it was kind of funny that her soon-to-be-ex-husband was living in an elevator. Then it occurred to her he meant he lived in the hotel. Oh.
“You’ve…you’ve been here all this time?”
“Owning a hotel has its perks. Like when you want to do your wife a favor by moving out of your home…”
“A favor? You call abandoning me, a favor, you inshufferable prat?!” Hermione didn’t care that she was slurring her words;; she paced the length of the lift, like a caged animal, wondering why it was taking forever to get to the fifth floor, where her room was. She looked up at the floor numbers and noticed that they’d just passed the 14th floor and climbing up to 16. Hermione staggered back into Draco.
“We passed my room! I need to get off this lift.” Hermione started to claw at the closed doors, as if willing it to open and descend to the correct floor.
“Hush, love,” said Draco soothingly, as he grabbed both of her arms and cradled her unsteady body to him. “Let’s go up to my room. We’ve got plenty to discuss.”
“I don’t…have…anything to discush with you, Mis-shter! And I don’t plan on being in the same room as that bloody tart of yours!” She struggled to free herself from his embrace but Draco held on. She shut her eyes, willing away the images of the leggy blonde, naked on Draco’s bed, replacing her in his life. Two angry tears rolled down her cheek, but before she could wipe them away, Draco had turned her to face him and kissed them off her face. Hermione opened her eyes but didn’t look up at Draco. Instead, she stared at their reflection on the mirrored wall of the lift.
She always thought that together they made a lovely couple.
Draco Malfoy at thirty still had the innate ability to make her heart skip a beat. She always found his patrician features sensual. As he bent down to whisper, “I don’t know what tart you’re talking about, love,” Hermione unconsciously rubbed up her body against Draco’s. He responded to her by kissing her gently on her nose then devouring her lips with his. She felt his erection grow against her stomach, and she was powerless to suppress a moan as his hand began to knead her breast. By the 27th floor her knickers were off and by the 32nd, Draco had his pants around his ankles. By the 38th floor, Draco had her pressed against a wall as he thrust earnestly into her. When the lift stopped on the 60th floor, the Malfoys spilled ungracefully onto the penthouse suite, Hermione’s legs wrapped tightly around Draco and Draco buried snugly inside Hermione.
They never did accomplish much talking that night.
“I’m sorry for leaving. It was a stupid, selfish thing to do. If you’ll still have me, I’d like to come back.”
She met his gaze then. “You want to come back?”
“I never wanted to leave.”
“Then, why did you?”
“Like most of what I did when we were at Hogwarts, it was a stupid attempt to catch your attention.”
“You make it sound like I was completely neglecting you.”
“You have.”
“Draco, you know how important this wedding is to me. It’s two of my closest friends! I wanted to do this for them, especially in honor of Molly.”
“I know that now, love. It’s just that it felt like you were choosing your friends over me. Your insistence on doing everything yourself instead of turning the details over to the team of wedding planners this hotel has, felt like a rejection of me.”
“Draco Malfoy, if you’re going to take everything connected to this hotel personally, I’m going to have to insist you sell it!”
He chuckled. “Never again, love. It was hell being away from you this month.” He pulled her closer, nuzzling between her breasts. She sighed, her hands letting go of the sheets to encircle his neck. He took the opportunity to suckle on an exposed nipple. He was rewarded with a moan from his wife.
“Dray…wait a minute…” she cupped his face so he would look up at her again. “What about that witch in The Daily Prophet picture with you?” She folded her arms across her chest so he wouldn’t get distracted.
“That was Henrietta Baddock. A cousin of Malcolm’s. She’s engaged to Adrian Pucey. She wanted to have their wedding here, too. Apparently, because of the Potter wedding, this is now the premier place to wed. They’re not getting married for another year, but she wanted to book the place in advance.”
“Why exactly did she feel she needed to speak with you in person?” Hermione huffed. “Don’t you have a team of wedding experts on staff?
He laughed at her ability to turn things back on him. “Don’t be jealous, love. She wanted to take advantage of her Slytherin connections. Besides, she was the one who made me realize what a terrible mistake I’d made leaving you.”
“Yeah, how so?”
“She spoke endlessly about Pucey. She was excited about getting married, not just about the wedding. It was clear they are madly in love. It made me miss you very much.”
Hermione looked at him and saw sincerity. “I missed you, too, Draco,” she said, kissing him fervently.
He kissed her back with equal passion, his hands caressing her legs up to her hips, and ending up cupping her bum. He pulled her closer so that she had no choice but to straddle him as he sat on the bed. Taking advantage of her position, she ground her aching pussy against his hard length, glad that they didn’t have any clothes to bother with discarding.
He guided her hips towards him and in a sweet second, they are together again.
Hermione sighed. It felt good to be filled by him, to have his cock buried so deep inside her that they were one. No matter her strong feminist convictions and her independence, she always felt whole when Draco was inside her. They moved in tandem, in a dance they had perfected over the years.
“DracoDracoDracoDraco…”
“Hermione…Merlin, Hermione…” Draco tightened his grip on Hermione’s hips. Hermione responded in kind by tightening her inner muscles to grip Draco’s cock. Draco groaned into her neck. “Oh gods, I love when you do that!”
Their slow, sultry dance evolved into a more frenzied fucking. They were so wrapped in each other that they didn’t hear the small tentative knock on the door.
“Sir…?”
Draco ignored the muffled voice, focusing instead on his wife, her wet cunt, his throbbing cock, and their impending release. He felt Hermione tense, and crying out his name, she came. After a few measured thrusts, he followed her, pouring himself into her womb while sending a silent prayer that a baby would soon result.
Draco collapsed on the bed with Hermione on top of him. Both of them were panting. He wrapped his arms around her sated body, caressing her back. Hermione drew circles around his nipple with a sharp nail. She loved being in this position, on top of Draco, sweaty and satisfied, with her head pressed close to his heart. She loved being able to listen to the thumping, especially knowing it was the result of a vigorous activity that involved her.
The knocking on the door became more insistent, and this time, Hermione noticed it.
Looking up from Draco’s chest, she asked him, “Who’s that?”
“It’s Jeffers. My valet.”
“Since when did you have a valet?”
“He works for the hotel. Part of the penthouse suite amenities.”
“He’s a House-Elf.” It was both a statement of fact and a question.
”Yes, just like the ones we have at the Manor. The ones you insisted be paid from our wedding day forward.”
“Looks like you’ve made your home here,” she said wryly, as she rolled off him.
He kissed her softly. “No. My home will always be with you. These are just temporary lodgings.”
“Sir,” said the timid voice from the other side of the door,”Does Madame Malfoy need assistance with her wardrobe? The wedding starts in half an hour. I could have the maid come up here.”
With a yelp, Hermione bolted from the bed. “Omigod! Harry and Ginny’s wedding! I can’t believe I forgot all about Harry and Ginny’s wedding!” She ran around the room pulling her discarded clothes, while Draco watched amused from the bed. He mentally kicked himself for not realizing until now how to temporarily distract his wife from her precious wedding planning.
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Despite the heavy media coverage of the Potter-Weasley wedding, the group of witches and wizards gathered for the ceremony itself was surprisingly intimate. All surviving members of the Weasley clan and their extended family were on hand, as were members of the Order of the Phoenix, former Hogwarts schoolmates, Ministry colleagues of the groom, and St. Mungo’s colleagues of the bride’s.
The ballroom was set up so that the bride and groom stood in the middle of a circle of family and friends. Within that circle, Ron stood facing the couple, and the remaining Weasleys stood behind Ginny. Hermione stood across from Ron. Hermione also faced the couple, with Draco right beside her, a hand wrapped possessively around her waist.
They had created quite a stir when they emerged together from the lift earlier. The media people, who were not allowed in the ballroom for the ceremony, immediately converged on the Malfoys. It had been one of the speculated items of the event, whether Draco Malfoy would still be attending the Weasley-Potter wedding given the break up of his own marriage. True, Harry Potter had been Draco Malfoy’s business partner for over five years, but with Hermione Malfoy’s long standing friendship with both the bride and groom, it was a given that she would be in attendance. Due to their morning activities, Draco and Hermione were already running late for the ceremony. Now it looked like they were going to be further delayed by the over enthusiastic media who seemed to have conveniently forgotten that they were here to cover the wedding of the savior of the Wizarding World, not focus on the more intriguing Malfoy marriage. Hermione, who until the lift doors opened, had participated in some last minute groping with her husband, sported a look of utter surprise at the amount of attention directed at them. It was Draco who recovered first, drawing Hermione closer to his body as he steered them towards the ballroom amid flashbulbs and shouted inquiries of “Are you back together?” It was perhaps the threat of expulsion from his hotel, and loss of press privileges, that made the carnivorous media allow the beleaguered couple to enter the ballroom.
Now safely ensconced within their circle of friends, Hermione smiled across at Ron, who had one eyebrow lifted in silent inquiry as he glanced at Draco next to her. Pansy Weasley, pregnant with their second child, whispered something to her husband, and Ron’s attention was successfully diverted. Hermione glanced over at the witches and wizards nearest Harry and noted that although Tonks decided to wear her hair yellow for the ceremony, it was not the lime-ish color she had on during the bachelorette party; this yellow could almost be mistaken for blonde in low light.
As the ceremony began, Hermione breathed out a sigh of relief. She thought back to when she’d first offered to be Ginny’s wedding planner, a year ago. Hermione’s desire to give Harry and Ginny a perfect wedding sprung from an intimate knowledge of their tumultuous relationship. In the last seven years, Harry and Ginny had gotten engaged to each other and called off their wedding twice. Their break ups were hurtful; their make ups hopeful. It turned out that Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley needed seven years to resolve many familial and guilt-driven issues within their relationship. About a year ago, both Harry and Ginny approached Hermione separately admitting that they’d felt this time was the right time to seal their commitment to one another. Their third engagement was widely publicized and celebrated, and Hermione felt it incumbent upon herself to make the wedding perfect. Molly Weasley had died seven years before, around the same time when Harry and Ginny’s relationship emerged to be less than smooth sailing. Hermione, who was Ginny’s closest female friend despite her bevy of sisters-in-law, doubly felt the pressure of having to put together a perfect celebration.
Watching the couple as the ceremony began, Hermione acknowledged to herself that her single-minded focus on the wedding planning caused her to neglect her own marriage. Despite the privileges he grew up with and his own personal successes, Draco Malfoy had always been insecure. Really, Hermione should not have been surprised at his latest act of trying to catch her attention, by moving out. She was relieved that they’d managed to sort things out before the night before, blushing slightly as she recalled Draco trying to convince her to have another go as they rode the lift down for the ceremony.
As she witnessed the look of devotion between Harry and Ginny, Hermione felt that all the drama had been worth it. All the important people in Harry and Ginny’s lives were in attendance to witness the sealing of their union. Even if she and Draco had not managed to sort things out before the wedding, Hermione felt confident that they would have reconciled soon after. As Harry and Ginny prepared to recite their wedding vows, Hermione felt Draco’s hand slip away from her hip. She looked up at him puzzled, but he only smiled mysteriously at her as he took her left hand with his right and brought it up to his lips.
“I love you,” she mouthed to him.
He leaned slightly over, but didn’t repeat her words back to her.
Instead, he repeated Harry Potter’s. Well, the relevant ones, anyway.
“I, Draco Lucius Black Malfoy, take you Hermione Jane Granger, to have and to hold for the rest of my days, as my life partner, my one true love, my best friend, for richer and for poorer, in sickness and in health, in joys and in sorrow. I will cherish our union and love you more each day than I did the day before. I will trust you and respect you, laugh with you and cry with you, loving you faithfully through good times and bad, regardless of the obstacles we may face together. I give you my magic, my hand, my heart, my life, and my love, from this day forward for as long as we both shall live.”
Hermione Granger Malfoy couldn’t remember a more perfect wedding.
FIN
Author: BobotuberPus
Pairing: D/Hr
Rating: NC-17, with fluff
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine. I am borrowing characters from JK Rowling, until she sees the light and writes D/Hr.
A/N: For IATQO Weekly Challenge # 20, which asked for the following elements to be included: rain, a hug, something yellow, a song, broken glass. I really just wanted to write a PWP that involved Dramione elevator sex.
Summary: Planning the perfect wedding may have cost Hermione her own marriage
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It was raining outside, but in her semi-awake state, Hermione noted irately that it was too bright in the room. If it was any other morning, she would have felt for her wand on her bedside table and mutter a spell that would close the drapes. But it was by no means a normal morning. Her head was plastered to the pillow, and in her initial attempt to lift it, she realized it felt weighed down by a ton. The rain pounding on the windows echoed the pounding inside her head. So she gave up. Besides, she couldn’t have gotten up if she wanted to, anyway. Crookshanks had slept on her stomach. Again. Crooks had gained a few pounds in his old age. In the month since Draco moved out, her familiar had taken to sleeping on the Hermione’s bed. It afforded little comfort to Hermione, but at least she had something to curl into. Hermione tried to turn over, hoping to dislodge the half-kneazle. Only Crookshanks seemed to have wrapped himself tighter around her midsection.
“Get off, Crookshanks…” Hermione muttered grumpily into the pillow, shoving her familiar off. Only instead of a disgruntled meow, it let off a very human growl. And instead of fur, she felt a strong muscular arm wrap tighter around her as it pulled her against a warm body.
Wait, what?
More awake now, Hermione turned to her right and almost screamed when she came face to face with a smirking Draco Malfoy. A Draco Malfoy who happened to be just as naked as she was.
“G’morning, love.”
Omigod. Hermione cast a quick glance around and confirmed she wasn’t in her bedroom at home but in some hotel suite.
With her mouth hanging open in shock, Draco seized the opportunity to lean over and shove his tongue down her throat. He felt Hermione begin to respond to his kiss, so he deepened it, one hand tangling her hair while the other caressing her bare arm.
Hermione’s muddled thoughts finally organized themselves. “Mmmmffff…Get.Off.Me.Malfoy!” Draco fell back on the bed after being shoved off.
Hermione sat up, gathering the sheets around her in a failing attempt at modesty. She didn’t stop to think why she bothered. Her head was pounding from the shock of suddenly getting up; yet her body was aching for Draco, demanding something back that it had been deprived of for weeks.
Draco tried to tug sheets away, cajoling,” C’mon, darling, what happened to ‘oh god, Draco, deeper, faster!’?”
Hermione sputtered incomprehensibly as she tugged the sheets back. She scooted away from him. Damn the wizard for looking so… so delectable in his sleep-tousled state, Hermione thought.
“A temporary lapse in sanity, apparently!” she said vehemently, though a tiny voice asked if she was really just trying to convince herself of that.
What happened last night? Bits and pieces of the previous evening slowly came into recollection. Ginny’s bachelorette party. The passable wizard strippers. Hermione partaking in shot after shot. Hermione being escorted back to her room by…
“I was hoping it was a step towards reconciliation.”
She stared at him incredulously. “Keep hoping, you prat. You think you can bed me and I’ll forget about you moving out of the flat last month?”
His playful demeanor faded to be replaced by a dark look.
“You’ve been so busy with this damned wedding, I didn’t think you’d notice I was gone,” he said petulantly.
“Oh, I noticed all right! Especially when the Prophet announced we..we were divorcing and the article had a picture of you and that…that…tart!” She threw a pillow at him, as she tried to keep angry, heartbroken tears at bay at the memory of the hurtful article.
She’d scrambled off the bed, realizing that his close proximity, especially in his very naked state, could rapidly undo her resolve. She stood facing him, clutching the sheets close to her body as if they were a shield. Her hair was abnormally frizzy, her face red and contorted in anger directed at him. Draco had never seen anyone so beautiful. And shaggable.
“Hermione…” Draco crawled towards her, unmindful of his nakedness. A naked Draco Malfoy on all fours on a rumpled bed was a sight Hermione could never get enough of.
If it was any other day, Hermione would have pounced on him, disagreements and tabloid articles be damned.
But it was not any other day. Her marriage was in limbo, and her bastard of a husband just tried to coerce a reconciliation out of her by shagging her through the night.
Until last night, she had not seen him in a month. Things had not been going well with them. She still didn’t realize when things started to go wrong. The past six months had been spent obsessively putting together a perfect wedding for Harry and Ginny. It was not until Draco moved out of the flat that Hermione was forced to recognize that something was wrong. She decided to give him some space, not contacting him for two weeks. Unfortunately, by the time she decided he’d had enough “alone” time, The Daily Prophet announced Draco Malfoy wasn’t so alone after all.
An article about their rumored impending divorce was accompanied by a picture of Draco and a leggy blonde dining together. The picture was taken from a distance, with the subjects unaware of the photographer. The blonde seemed very animated and flirtatious with Draco. Draco seemed to respond just as flirtatiously to the blonde. He didn’t look anything at all like someone affected by the end of his marriage.
Hermione threw all of herself into the Weasley-Potter wedding planning, resolving to deal with her own personal drama afterwards. She wasn’t going to let this ruin Harry and Ginny’s perfect day. Besides, the wedding planning proved to be a useful distraction from her rapidly breaking heart.
Ginny insisted that her Bachelorette Party take place at M, a trendy new hotel. It was a sixty floor modern building in the posh part of London. A five star hotel by Muggle standards, it catered to the upper echelons of Wizarding society. Reservations were hard to come by because not a knut was spared to make the clients’ stay memorable. The hotel was renowned for its service as well as for the paid House Elves on staff. It was the kind hotel that should host the wedding of the savior of the Wizarding world. The Weasley-Potter wedding was to take place in the Grand Ballroom. Hermione advised against having the bachelorette party at the same hotel as the wedding. Ginny insisted, telling her that it was the perfect place, as all of the wedding guests were already staying there. The owner of the hotel, as a favor to his wife, had blocked off the entire building exclusively for the wedding and the pre-event festivities. If any of the wedding guests got too pissed at the stag and bachelorette parties, they can just crawl back to their rooms and not have to miss out on the wedding the following day.
The bachelorette party was underway, but Hermione just didn’t feel like celebrating. She had exhausted herself in the past weeks attending to every detail of the wedding. Now that it was the night before, she was dreading the event itself because she knew she’d have to deal with Draco and her marriage as soon as Harry and Ginny left for their honeymoon. Whatever the outcome, even if she did ended up divorcing Draco Malfoy, she was glad she’d been able to do this for Harry and Ginny.
Not being in a celebratory mood didn’t keep Hermione from imbibing. She deserved it, after all the personal drama she’d gone through. The stress of planning a wedding had take a toll. She made a toast to Ginny and to the Weasley clan. She made a toast to colleagues at the Ministry and old friends from Hogwarts. She lost count after her seventh shot. She heard a glass break, but wasn’t sure if she’d done it. When a Muggle song she was familiar with came on, she attempted to sing along to it, unsuccessfully.
She vaguely remembered hearing Ginny say to someone, “Please take her up to her room,” and giving that someone her room number. She didn’t remember protesting that this information shouldn’t be given out liberally to strangers. It wasn’t until they’d reached the lift when Hermione looked upon her “rescuer” and realized he wasn’t a stranger at all.
“Hermione, love, we need to talk.” Sexy, naked man with the bedroom voice brought her back to the present. He was no longer on all fours on the bed. Instead, he was seated on the edge of the mattress, his muscular legs on either side of hers. He looked up at her expectantly. She, however, refused to return his gaze, choosing instead to stare at her toes and waited for him to begin.
“Draco...” It was more of a question, really. She wanted to ask what he was doing here, with her, on a lift. But with her thoughts and emotions in a jumble, the words couldn’t seem to get out. She pushed away from him and he let go. She was already unsteady from too much alcohol, and the movement of the lift caused her pitch forward. Deftly, he caught her and held her to himself.
“What are you doing here? You weren’t invited.”
“I live here.” Hermione had a fleeting thought that it was kind of funny that her soon-to-be-ex-husband was living in an elevator. Then it occurred to her he meant he lived in the hotel. Oh.
“You’ve…you’ve been here all this time?”
“Owning a hotel has its perks. Like when you want to do your wife a favor by moving out of your home…”
“A favor? You call abandoning me, a favor, you inshufferable prat?!” Hermione didn’t care that she was slurring her words;; she paced the length of the lift, like a caged animal, wondering why it was taking forever to get to the fifth floor, where her room was. She looked up at the floor numbers and noticed that they’d just passed the 14th floor and climbing up to 16. Hermione staggered back into Draco.
“We passed my room! I need to get off this lift.” Hermione started to claw at the closed doors, as if willing it to open and descend to the correct floor.
“Hush, love,” said Draco soothingly, as he grabbed both of her arms and cradled her unsteady body to him. “Let’s go up to my room. We’ve got plenty to discuss.”
“I don’t…have…anything to discush with you, Mis-shter! And I don’t plan on being in the same room as that bloody tart of yours!” She struggled to free herself from his embrace but Draco held on. She shut her eyes, willing away the images of the leggy blonde, naked on Draco’s bed, replacing her in his life. Two angry tears rolled down her cheek, but before she could wipe them away, Draco had turned her to face him and kissed them off her face. Hermione opened her eyes but didn’t look up at Draco. Instead, she stared at their reflection on the mirrored wall of the lift.
She always thought that together they made a lovely couple.
Draco Malfoy at thirty still had the innate ability to make her heart skip a beat. She always found his patrician features sensual. As he bent down to whisper, “I don’t know what tart you’re talking about, love,” Hermione unconsciously rubbed up her body against Draco’s. He responded to her by kissing her gently on her nose then devouring her lips with his. She felt his erection grow against her stomach, and she was powerless to suppress a moan as his hand began to knead her breast. By the 27th floor her knickers were off and by the 32nd, Draco had his pants around his ankles. By the 38th floor, Draco had her pressed against a wall as he thrust earnestly into her. When the lift stopped on the 60th floor, the Malfoys spilled ungracefully onto the penthouse suite, Hermione’s legs wrapped tightly around Draco and Draco buried snugly inside Hermione.
They never did accomplish much talking that night.
“I’m sorry for leaving. It was a stupid, selfish thing to do. If you’ll still have me, I’d like to come back.”
She met his gaze then. “You want to come back?”
“I never wanted to leave.”
“Then, why did you?”
“Like most of what I did when we were at Hogwarts, it was a stupid attempt to catch your attention.”
“You make it sound like I was completely neglecting you.”
“You have.”
“Draco, you know how important this wedding is to me. It’s two of my closest friends! I wanted to do this for them, especially in honor of Molly.”
“I know that now, love. It’s just that it felt like you were choosing your friends over me. Your insistence on doing everything yourself instead of turning the details over to the team of wedding planners this hotel has, felt like a rejection of me.”
“Draco Malfoy, if you’re going to take everything connected to this hotel personally, I’m going to have to insist you sell it!”
He chuckled. “Never again, love. It was hell being away from you this month.” He pulled her closer, nuzzling between her breasts. She sighed, her hands letting go of the sheets to encircle his neck. He took the opportunity to suckle on an exposed nipple. He was rewarded with a moan from his wife.
“Dray…wait a minute…” she cupped his face so he would look up at her again. “What about that witch in The Daily Prophet picture with you?” She folded her arms across her chest so he wouldn’t get distracted.
“That was Henrietta Baddock. A cousin of Malcolm’s. She’s engaged to Adrian Pucey. She wanted to have their wedding here, too. Apparently, because of the Potter wedding, this is now the premier place to wed. They’re not getting married for another year, but she wanted to book the place in advance.”
“Why exactly did she feel she needed to speak with you in person?” Hermione huffed. “Don’t you have a team of wedding experts on staff?
He laughed at her ability to turn things back on him. “Don’t be jealous, love. She wanted to take advantage of her Slytherin connections. Besides, she was the one who made me realize what a terrible mistake I’d made leaving you.”
“Yeah, how so?”
“She spoke endlessly about Pucey. She was excited about getting married, not just about the wedding. It was clear they are madly in love. It made me miss you very much.”
Hermione looked at him and saw sincerity. “I missed you, too, Draco,” she said, kissing him fervently.
He kissed her back with equal passion, his hands caressing her legs up to her hips, and ending up cupping her bum. He pulled her closer so that she had no choice but to straddle him as he sat on the bed. Taking advantage of her position, she ground her aching pussy against his hard length, glad that they didn’t have any clothes to bother with discarding.
He guided her hips towards him and in a sweet second, they are together again.
Hermione sighed. It felt good to be filled by him, to have his cock buried so deep inside her that they were one. No matter her strong feminist convictions and her independence, she always felt whole when Draco was inside her. They moved in tandem, in a dance they had perfected over the years.
“DracoDracoDracoDraco…”
“Hermione…Merlin, Hermione…” Draco tightened his grip on Hermione’s hips. Hermione responded in kind by tightening her inner muscles to grip Draco’s cock. Draco groaned into her neck. “Oh gods, I love when you do that!”
Their slow, sultry dance evolved into a more frenzied fucking. They were so wrapped in each other that they didn’t hear the small tentative knock on the door.
“Sir…?”
Draco ignored the muffled voice, focusing instead on his wife, her wet cunt, his throbbing cock, and their impending release. He felt Hermione tense, and crying out his name, she came. After a few measured thrusts, he followed her, pouring himself into her womb while sending a silent prayer that a baby would soon result.
Draco collapsed on the bed with Hermione on top of him. Both of them were panting. He wrapped his arms around her sated body, caressing her back. Hermione drew circles around his nipple with a sharp nail. She loved being in this position, on top of Draco, sweaty and satisfied, with her head pressed close to his heart. She loved being able to listen to the thumping, especially knowing it was the result of a vigorous activity that involved her.
The knocking on the door became more insistent, and this time, Hermione noticed it.
Looking up from Draco’s chest, she asked him, “Who’s that?”
“It’s Jeffers. My valet.”
“Since when did you have a valet?”
“He works for the hotel. Part of the penthouse suite amenities.”
“He’s a House-Elf.” It was both a statement of fact and a question.
”Yes, just like the ones we have at the Manor. The ones you insisted be paid from our wedding day forward.”
“Looks like you’ve made your home here,” she said wryly, as she rolled off him.
He kissed her softly. “No. My home will always be with you. These are just temporary lodgings.”
“Sir,” said the timid voice from the other side of the door,”Does Madame Malfoy need assistance with her wardrobe? The wedding starts in half an hour. I could have the maid come up here.”
With a yelp, Hermione bolted from the bed. “Omigod! Harry and Ginny’s wedding! I can’t believe I forgot all about Harry and Ginny’s wedding!” She ran around the room pulling her discarded clothes, while Draco watched amused from the bed. He mentally kicked himself for not realizing until now how to temporarily distract his wife from her precious wedding planning.
++++
Despite the heavy media coverage of the Potter-Weasley wedding, the group of witches and wizards gathered for the ceremony itself was surprisingly intimate. All surviving members of the Weasley clan and their extended family were on hand, as were members of the Order of the Phoenix, former Hogwarts schoolmates, Ministry colleagues of the groom, and St. Mungo’s colleagues of the bride’s.
The ballroom was set up so that the bride and groom stood in the middle of a circle of family and friends. Within that circle, Ron stood facing the couple, and the remaining Weasleys stood behind Ginny. Hermione stood across from Ron. Hermione also faced the couple, with Draco right beside her, a hand wrapped possessively around her waist.
They had created quite a stir when they emerged together from the lift earlier. The media people, who were not allowed in the ballroom for the ceremony, immediately converged on the Malfoys. It had been one of the speculated items of the event, whether Draco Malfoy would still be attending the Weasley-Potter wedding given the break up of his own marriage. True, Harry Potter had been Draco Malfoy’s business partner for over five years, but with Hermione Malfoy’s long standing friendship with both the bride and groom, it was a given that she would be in attendance. Due to their morning activities, Draco and Hermione were already running late for the ceremony. Now it looked like they were going to be further delayed by the over enthusiastic media who seemed to have conveniently forgotten that they were here to cover the wedding of the savior of the Wizarding World, not focus on the more intriguing Malfoy marriage. Hermione, who until the lift doors opened, had participated in some last minute groping with her husband, sported a look of utter surprise at the amount of attention directed at them. It was Draco who recovered first, drawing Hermione closer to his body as he steered them towards the ballroom amid flashbulbs and shouted inquiries of “Are you back together?” It was perhaps the threat of expulsion from his hotel, and loss of press privileges, that made the carnivorous media allow the beleaguered couple to enter the ballroom.
Now safely ensconced within their circle of friends, Hermione smiled across at Ron, who had one eyebrow lifted in silent inquiry as he glanced at Draco next to her. Pansy Weasley, pregnant with their second child, whispered something to her husband, and Ron’s attention was successfully diverted. Hermione glanced over at the witches and wizards nearest Harry and noted that although Tonks decided to wear her hair yellow for the ceremony, it was not the lime-ish color she had on during the bachelorette party; this yellow could almost be mistaken for blonde in low light.
As the ceremony began, Hermione breathed out a sigh of relief. She thought back to when she’d first offered to be Ginny’s wedding planner, a year ago. Hermione’s desire to give Harry and Ginny a perfect wedding sprung from an intimate knowledge of their tumultuous relationship. In the last seven years, Harry and Ginny had gotten engaged to each other and called off their wedding twice. Their break ups were hurtful; their make ups hopeful. It turned out that Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley needed seven years to resolve many familial and guilt-driven issues within their relationship. About a year ago, both Harry and Ginny approached Hermione separately admitting that they’d felt this time was the right time to seal their commitment to one another. Their third engagement was widely publicized and celebrated, and Hermione felt it incumbent upon herself to make the wedding perfect. Molly Weasley had died seven years before, around the same time when Harry and Ginny’s relationship emerged to be less than smooth sailing. Hermione, who was Ginny’s closest female friend despite her bevy of sisters-in-law, doubly felt the pressure of having to put together a perfect celebration.
Watching the couple as the ceremony began, Hermione acknowledged to herself that her single-minded focus on the wedding planning caused her to neglect her own marriage. Despite the privileges he grew up with and his own personal successes, Draco Malfoy had always been insecure. Really, Hermione should not have been surprised at his latest act of trying to catch her attention, by moving out. She was relieved that they’d managed to sort things out before the night before, blushing slightly as she recalled Draco trying to convince her to have another go as they rode the lift down for the ceremony.
As she witnessed the look of devotion between Harry and Ginny, Hermione felt that all the drama had been worth it. All the important people in Harry and Ginny’s lives were in attendance to witness the sealing of their union. Even if she and Draco had not managed to sort things out before the wedding, Hermione felt confident that they would have reconciled soon after. As Harry and Ginny prepared to recite their wedding vows, Hermione felt Draco’s hand slip away from her hip. She looked up at him puzzled, but he only smiled mysteriously at her as he took her left hand with his right and brought it up to his lips.
“I love you,” she mouthed to him.
He leaned slightly over, but didn’t repeat her words back to her.
Instead, he repeated Harry Potter’s. Well, the relevant ones, anyway.
“I, Draco Lucius Black Malfoy, take you Hermione Jane Granger, to have and to hold for the rest of my days, as my life partner, my one true love, my best friend, for richer and for poorer, in sickness and in health, in joys and in sorrow. I will cherish our union and love you more each day than I did the day before. I will trust you and respect you, laugh with you and cry with you, loving you faithfully through good times and bad, regardless of the obstacles we may face together. I give you my magic, my hand, my heart, my life, and my love, from this day forward for as long as we both shall live.”
Hermione Granger Malfoy couldn’t remember a more perfect wedding.
FIN