Fic: Thank God I'm Not A Bridesmaid, Hermione/Draco
Like, omgz, new fic. It's amazing. Seriously. I found this today and decided to work on it, and since it's hella long, it's going to be two parts.
Title: Thank God I'm Not A Bridesmaid
Rating: R (for language only, this part)
Pairing: Hermione/Draco
Categories: Humour, AU, PWP
Summary: The only thing that would redeem this wedding would be a lot of chocolate, alcohol, and an elephant sized tranquilizer potion.
Disclaimer: All property of J.K. Rowling. The plot is mine, however.
Notes: This was my submission for my challenge that got canceled during the summer due to family issues. I abandoned it, and came back because it would be fun to finish. Don't expect this to be finished quickly though. Part two will be around in about a week or so. Until then, enjoy, peoples. Excuse the horrendous spacing due to Word. Can't fix it right now.
Hermione remembered standing in her kitchen, mourning the end of her failed diet with a rejected box of Valentine's chocolate when the owl sailed through her open window and landed gracefully in the carton of ice cream she was working on. It was a pure, snowy white, like Hedwig used to be, with sleek feathers and narrow tawny eyes. It looked at her condescendingly, as it removed its feet from the ice cream and proceeded to wipe its talons on her morning paper. It hooted imperiously as it daintily stuck out a leg. She unwrapped the furled note from the bird and dropped it on the table. She offered the obviously offended bird a treat that it turned down before flying off. Dumping the ice cream in the garbage, she picked up the parchment and sat down at the table.
Edward and Elena Parkinsonand
Arthur and Molly Weasley
request the honour of your presence
at the marriage of their children
Pansy Lilian
And
Ronald Bilius
on Saturday, the first of May
two thousand and eight
at three o'clock in the afternoon...
This was about as far as she got before her jaw dropped and she dropped the invitation on the floor. She grabbed it and ran into her living room, and Flooed Harry.
His face mirrored hers, etched with shock and puzzlement.
"You got one, also?" she said faintly, feeling unsteady as she crouched in front of the fireplace.
"God, yes," he replied. "I'm so sorry, Hermione."
"You have nothing to be sorry for," she replied. She tried to push away her irritation at Harry's pitying look. She had broken off hers and Ron’s five year relationship after she issued an ultimatum of commitment. She was angry with Ron's inability to discuss marriage. After a heated blowout, he muttered something about "not ever wanting to be tied down", packed his bags and left.
But only after Hermione shrunk all of his clothes the Muggle way so he couldn't repair them. And then permanently dyed them a hideous shade of pink.
"Apparently he got over his commitment issues real fast," she commented lightly.
Harry looked angry. "I have a right mind to knock some sense into him. What could he possibly be thinking?"
"Really," Hermione chided. "It's not necessary. I wonder what Molly must think." Molly was probably devastated. First, she lost Harry to Luna after Ginny and Harry's brief romance fizzled and died. Ginny had been married to Neville for the last two years. Then, she lost Hermione. However, the Weasley matriarch had always held out hope for reconciliation. There went those dreams.
"So what are you going to do?" Harry asked, interrupting her thoughts.
"I'm going to finish my breakfast, drink copious amounts of alcohol, and perfect my anti-cellulite potion," she deadpanned.
Harry winced. "Are you eating chocolate again?"
"No," she said, not very convincingly.
"Please don't break out the liquor."
"If you bought me the liquor filled ones, we could've cut out the middle man," she said.
***
That was two and a half months ago, and the morning of May first dawned bright and early. She woke up with a mouthful of fur and a cold wet nose pushing her cheek. She rolled over and off the bed onto the floor.
"Persephone!" she yelled at the hundred pound dog sprawled across her bed.
After Crooks had passed last winter, she was reluctant to get a new pet, especially a dog. But a friend of hers from university had a dog that had puppies, and dropped by with the small, wriggling furball. She reluctantly took the dog in after her friend pleaded and begged, before using the "I'll have to have her put down" card. So here she was, with an astoundingly large Labrador retriever that shed like crazy and hogged her furniture.
The dog turned liquid brown eyes on her before putting a paw over her nose.
Hermione rubbed a hand over her face wearily, and then stuck her hands up in the air. "I give up," she announced.
Persephone whined and rolled over, tail wagging in hopes of a rub.
"Not now," she said, as she dashed into the bathroom. After a perfunctory shower, she towelled off and went through the motions of doing her hair and make-up, with the help of magic. Without it, she was hopeless. However, her attention to detail and perfectionist nature made her a dab hand at it. She never did this on a regular basis because she didn't feel the need to. Her work in the Ministry's labs required that she kept her hair pulled back and her valuables at home, seeing as her boss's son, co-worker, and resident pyromaniac had a tendency to light things on fire several times a day.
She was rather excited this morning, however, because she had finally finished her own little experiment. Her boss was married to an ostentatiously vain woman who was compulsive about her appearance. Unfortunately, she was losing a battle to ageing and fighting tooth and nail. At 45, the middle aged witch spent the entire business dinner Hermione attended three months ago whining about her cellulite. After resisting the urge to poke her eyes out with the fork, Hermione went home and started thinking. Beauty was a lucrative yet profitable industry, and she could quite possibly revolutionize it if she found a cure for cellulite. Shallow as it was, Hermione wasn't about to let go of a challenge (and the hefty incentive her boss offered.) She had just finished her potion two nights ago, and what better event to test-drive it at? At the very most, she'd have great legs. At the least...well, she could always pretend she had food poisoning and not show up.
She unscrewed the little blue jar and scooped up a dab with two fingers. Without preamble, she started to rub it in on the cellulite patches on her thighs. Almost immediately, she felt the skin tighten and the ripples disappear. She continued cautiously down the rest of her legs. Feeling inspired, she used some on her bottom, hips and breasts in hopes of the same toning effect. She shimmied into her dress and shoes, then chanced a look in the mirror.
"Honey, I'm pretty sure it's illegal to go out looking like that," the mirror commented.
"Works for me," she smiled before picking up her bag. She Transfigured her cloak into a lace bolero for the dress, and left.
***
She arrived just outside the church, stumbling right into someone.
Note to self: Apparating in heels is a very stupid idea, especially onto cobblestones.
"Watch it, Grang--whoa," said a stunned Blaise Zabini. His look of irritation melted into a look of astonishment. "Shit," he whistled.
"Sorry," she muttered. She smoothed down the front of her dress. She felt rather uncomfortable under his strange gaze, so she hurried off to find Harry, or someone she knew. Thankfully, she found them later when she was ushered to the same pew he and Luna were in.
Harry looked startled at her unorthodox appearance, but much to his credit, did not gawk or stare.
"You look lovely," Luna said happily.
"So do you," Hermione said, smiling at her. Luna beamed. It was the truth. Luna was dressed in a flowy butter yellow dress, her blonde hair all over the place. They made small talk for a few minutes, until the string quartet of elves struck up the music. Everyone automatically craned their heads.
An extremely ugly gnome paraded down first, scattering flowers. Next came the bridesmaids. Two girls Hermione vaguely recognized from school came first, followed by Ginny, who was scowling and doing nothing to hide it. Hermione would be scowling too if she had to wear a dress that hideous. The women were decked out in bright orange floor length gowns, resplendent with full hoop skirts. The bodice was covered in silver sparkly embroidery.
"It's a good thing I'm not hungover, or this would be really painful to look at," Harry said, wincing. The dress clashed horribly with Ginny's vivid red hair, and the poor girl looked as though she caught fire.
"Aguamenti charm, anyone?" Luna said airily. Hermione stifled a laugh. Finally, the bride made her entrance. Bracing herself for the worst after the orange dresses, Hermione wasn't surprised to see Pansy in what once was a beautiful dress...before she had added puff sleeves, a fifteen foot train, yards of tulle, and a giant white satin sash. Her dark hair was cascaded in ringlets down her back and she looked peeved.
"So much for the happiest day of your life, right?" commented Harry. "What's with the expression?"
Hermione and Luna looked at each other, that knowing look in their eyes. If Hermione wasn't mistaken (she rarely was) there was the slightest bump that the blushing bride was trying to disguise with her bouquet. Hermione looked at Ginny, then looked at Pansy, and back to Ginny. Ginny raised her eyebrows and gave a tiny curt nod.
"What?" Harry whispered, missing the exchange.
"A shotgun wedding," Hermione breathed.
"You don't mean..." he said, as the Muggle expression registered in his mind, "...he knocked her up?"
"Shh," Luna said mildly, clapping a hand over his mouth.
Hermione spent most of the service with her mouth hanging open, trying to comprehend the situation. That explained his "commitment," or more likely, Molly Weasley's threats to hex him into space if he didn't do right by Pansy. Mr. Parkinson wore a thunderous expression on his face, like he was about to explode. Come to think of it, most of the guests were curious instead of cheery.
Absorbed in her thoughts, the ceremony went by fast, and she almost cracked a smile when she saw Ron's face go deathly white when the binding spell clamped around his wrist. It certainly was the highlight of her day so far.
***
The reception was slightly more tolerable because of the open bar and the chocolate fountain, which she was planning on drowning herself in (if the booze didn't get her first). She glumly picked leftover confetti out of her cleavage (the happy couple got into a Thestral drawn carriage, not unlike the ones at Hogwarts, and they all started throwing confetti. Why, she had no idea) and slumped into the table where she was sitting with Harry, Luna, Daphne Greengrass, Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, Millicent Bulstrode, and Draco Malfoy.
Of course, she thought inwardly. Because this wasn't bad enough as it was.
I am here because I am not a seething bitch, and I am a supportive friend. I am the better person. I can do this. Maybe.
The four Slytherins, with the exception of Blaise, (who did his fair share of ogling earlier) looked at her incredulously.
"Who would've thought?" Malfoy drawled. "Someone cleans up well." His eyes raked her up and down.
"Christ, it's just a dress," she snapped irritably.
"It's a very...nice dress," he replied in a tone that said he had plans for that dress.
In retrospect, she shouldn't have dressed feeling vengeful. As a result, she chose a raspberry coloured strapless satin bustier dress with a short pleated bubble skirt, and what Ginny would've referred to as slut shoes that were going to provide a challenge later when she was drunk.
Notice she said when.
***
She was wearing this crazy purple satin dress that came to mid thigh, showing off her long, toned, smooth legs in those "fuck me" shoes. Her hair was still curly and unmanageable, but instead of looking sloppy, it looked appealing. It was the first time Draco had ever seen her wear makeup. It was the first time he'd ever seen her breasts, and he was impressed.
"Quit leering!" she said crankily. "I'm so glad you've all realized I'm female." She narrowed her eyes.
"Shh, I think the best man is going to make his speech," Harry said hastily, effectively cutting off her planned diatribe.
***
No, Harry wasn't the best man, in what was a huge disappointment to not only the Weasleys, but Harry himself. He rationalized that Ron didn't have much of a say in the wedding at all, so of course Pansy was going to take charge. In this case, Pansy had apparently decided that Bill would suit just fine because he fit in well with the rest of the wedding party and looked good in pictures. Yes, she was that shallow.
No one was going to argue with Bridezilla, so the eldest Weasley made his way up to the podium and muttered a Sonorus charm.
"Er, first off, I would like to propose a toast to the new couple," Bill started, sounding rather strained. He gulped at the glass of champagne he was holding, which refilled itself automatically. "Uh, this comes as no surprise to anyone, because Weasley men are known for their charm, as anyone can tell from Ron's string of ex-girlfriends." His weak joke fell flat as Mrs. Weasley sniffled. Bill started talking about Lavender. Hermione had sat there, zoning out, her face still polite. She wasn't paying attention until Bill mentioned her name. By this time, she looked up, alarmed, to have noticed that Bill--proper, winsome, good-natured Bill-- was sloshed.
"An' that brings us to 'ermione," he hiccupped. "Frankly, if ya ask me, my lil' brother was an utter shite for leaving her, 'cause she was the best thing that ever happened to him--" Hermione was horrified, and clapped a hand over her mouth. Blaise and Draco were snickering, Theo looked at her pityingly, and Daphne and Millicent had the good grace to look shocked.
Charlie, by this time, had come up and dragged Bill away. Charlie said hastily to the silent room, "We wish you a long and happy life together, congratulations to my little brother and sister-in-law, now let's dance." With that, the music started, and voices gradually returned in the room.
Luna dragged Harry onto the floor to join a conga line led by Aunt Muriel, who was no better than Bill. The other four Slytherins left her and Draco alone, unfortunately. Hermione chewed on her lip.
"Malfoy," she acknowledged.
"Granger," he replied. "Enlighten me."
"As to what, exactly?" she said.
"As to why you're wearing such a salacious dress," he purred.
"It is a perfectly fine dress," she stiffened.
"I can think of a lot of things it would be fine for," he commented. Her traitorous face turned red as she growled at him.
“Feisty, aren’t we?” he replied with a grin. He winked, then walked away.
Hermione's dress can be found here. I really liked it. So sue me.