Harry Potter 1. Today Was A Nightmare

I. Today Was A Nightmare

This is going to be one of the days that I dreaded the most. Probably because I am marrying one of the blokes that I feared I would end up with in the future, or maybe because the fact that I am scared of the life I am going to recreate with the man I dreaded the most from the very start.

My name is Hermione Jean Granger. Also known as Draco Malfoy's Mudblood. Today's the day I could describe as melancholic. I am not depressed if that's what the staff is thinking. I'll celebrate my post-partum depression once everything's set and done, and when I am bound to Malfoy, I can party with Satan in hell.

The day started as I woke up at 9:31 a.m. A house-elf escorted me to the bathroom to get ready for the big day ahead of me. I lathered, scrubbed, and rinsed then had the house-elf to fetch me after I bathed. My hairstylist, Camille, had my hair dried up to have it ready for styling. I sat down in a chair in front of a vanity dresser with these light bulbs around it. It was so bright, I thought it would blind me permanently.

"Miss Hermione," she held the already steaming iron curler—a few feet away from my face. "What would you like to do with your hair? An elegant up-do or a crown of elegant curls?"

"Erm. . .I, I. . ." I stammered, in a brink of getting panicky. Camille's expression was smiling gently at me. I wonder if she wanted to blast the thing that she holds down on my throat. A loud crack made me jump. Did someone bust the lights?

"I'm in charge of her hair." Narcissa Malfoy, neé Black, came in. I guess she did Apparate from her suite to my room. Great.

"Hello, Narcissa." I greeted her. She took a seat next to me.

She smiled warmly at me. "Good morning, my dear. How are you feeling right now?" Her hand reached over to hold mine.

I laughed and rolled my eyes. "I can't tell. It's. . .I don't know. Mixed emotions maybe."

Now, it was her turn to laugh at me. "I can absolutely tell that we share the same kind of feeling. I felt rather emotional in my wedding to Lucius a decade ago. It was rather a forlorn moment for me. It's like you're having second thoughts if you wanted to get married or not."

Exactly.

Narcissa continued on recalling her memory. "But I managed to control my erratic manner. I tried to think of happy things, and it did help to calm me down."

Her startlingly pale blue eyes loomed at me. "Try and simmer down those unwanted emotions, Hermione. You'll be fine."

Camille cleared her throat loudly. We stared at her. She had both arms covered in front of her chest, apparently pissed for making her wait longer.

"Are we going to style her today, Mrs. Malfoy?"

Narcissa sighed. Exasperated. "I told you, dearie, I am going to handle it."

Camille raised her arms in defeat. "Fine. I am going to take the day off." And she Disapparated.

"Well," my future mother-in-law stood to her feet. "That only means I have a lot of work to do here."

I giggled. "Let's do it then."

With one flick of Narcissa's wand, the magic began. It's like having a Cinderella moment with fairy godmother. Brushes floated from the dresser, vanilla and honey perfume sprayed everywhere—it's madness.

I am having a ball on my own wedding day.

"Now, Hermione, close your eyes." I obediently followed Narcissa's command.

"I wonder what I will look like." I mused, smiling sheepishly.

"You'll be the envy of every girl, dear. I'll make sure of it that Draco will only have his eyes set on you. That'll make some boys jealous."

"Aw. That'll just earn me a reputation in the society."

"Don't you want that? You'll be the center of attention," Draco's mum cackled.

"Oh, well. I guess I'll have to admit, I am an attention seeker as well," I guiltily confessed, my cheeks flaming.

Our conversation lasted for a long while, filled with feminism, love, lust—Narcissa was being motherly towards me. I bet that a few years from now, we'll have each others backs like girlfriends do.

"You can open your eyes now." Narcissa's voice was so soothing, it could've sang me to sleep. But I have a wedding to be in, so sleep is not an option for me.

Effortlessly, I lifted my heavy lids. They were a _bit _rugged.

A woman who was breathtakingly beautiful looked fixedly at me. Curiosity filled her amber-hazel eyes—hell, we have the same eye color. Her face was a lovely shade of porcelain-white, tinged with a cute shade of pink. She was so gorgeous, it made my heart swell with agony. Draco would fall in love with her—not me. The woman raised a hand towards me as if to touch my face. I leaned back, and she back away too, knowing that her actions might frighten me.

"Who is she?" I asked Narcissa. I liked the messy bun on the woman's head.

She stifled back a laugh. "Why, Hermione, have you completely forgotten what you look like?"

Eh? So this woman is me?

"Hoist your knickers up, we have a wedding to attend to." And Narcissa yanked me by the arm and led me away to the wonder wall of my—oh well.

"OW!" I yelped as one of the ladies—they're helping me insert myself in one of these tight corsets—shoved the stiff undergarment over my head.

"A bit more delicate on the bride, ladies. We don't want her to look faint in the middle of the ceremony, right?"

I sucked a deep breath before the corset was crammed up in my breasts and waist. They had this rule before you could even wear a corset. They give you, like, twenty minutes of a breathing moment, then, you're good to go. But this isn't going swell for me.

"Deep breaths, Missy. You'll be fine after this."

"Narcissa! Could you give me a hand here?" Said one lady from behind me.

I could picture myself in my head that my lips were turning blue because of the difficulty in breathing. Probably there's a huge chance for me to die of suffocation in times like this. I remember wearing this way back when I was fifteen. My grandmother forced me to wear one in my cousin's wedding. It did fit me perfectly, so it's no biggie. But as the years pass, I am twenty-two now, I don't have the same-old-skinny-body that I had ages ago. I must have gained three or four pounds.

Anyway, as of now—it's ten thirty. Two more fucking hours before the grandest moment of my life. Puh-lease—Narcissa and the lady with her are tying the strings on my back. Fuck, can you do it much faster? I wailed in my head. We don't have much time.

"One more to go, and we get her dressed in her frock."

"Jesus, woman, can't you just hurry up?" Narcissa complained. So did I.

A tight push of the drawstring made me howl in pain. Is it done yet? Crap, I feel like getting cramped up in a small cell.

"There. We're all done, ladies. Now, let's wrap things up, shall we?" Future-mum-in-law smirked at everyone. The smirk that's equal to my future husband's insolent smile.

"Finally," I gasped out loud.

"Come now, dear. We should get you prepped up."

"Okay. But you'll have to be delicate with me this time," my fingers reached at the bottom of the corset, fingering the tiny lace details.

Two maidservants entered the room, a large square box in their lithely-looking arms. I take it that the thing inside of that is my wedding gown? Enough said, enough said. A wave of nervousness collided violently in the temples of my head. _Stage fright, stage fright_, it ranted all over my head. Yes, I am having a moment with my knotted thoughts. If I'll keep on tying the string to another string, I can predict a permanent brain damage will visit me in the future.

I get to open the box in which the maids have brought along with them. Dazed, I lifted the subtle-looking dress, can't peel my eyes off of it.

"Made from the most antique and expensive lace of all time. You, my darling, are the first one to wear such a gown which is—I'm not bragging, but it's the damned truth—only priceless and suitable for a woman like you." I half-gasped at the factoid from Narcissa's mouth.

"I'm not surprised."

"You should be. Not most of all witches in the Wizarding World can _afford_—" she made an air quote gesture with her fingers, "—and look glamorous in her wedding frock."

A smile crept its way on my frozen lips. I should be grateful.

My eyes glanced back at the dress. "I must be getting inside of this one now," I lifted the dress to everyone in the room."

"Are we all done now?"

"No, not yet, madam. We still need the veil."

"Careful with the hair!"

"Where are the shoes?"

"Oh my, look at the time!"

Those were just the words I've heard whilst I was resting my eyes. I listened closely to the clock nearby. I pictured some events happening inside the chapel. Harry and Ron looking pretty spiffy and dapper in their tuxedos, Luna and Ginny gushing around with their peony-colored dresses, Severus Snape and Draco were talking outside, and a lot of highly distinguished people arriving. God, I didn't know there were a whole lot of people from the Ministry coming to watch me get married to a pureblood named Draco Malfoy.

Perhaps I should plug some cotton buds in my ears. I didn't like it when people would make unnecessary comments about me, a Mudblood, betrothed to a much, much more higher blood status than me. It isn't the turn of a century for others since purebloods married or maybe even fell in love to half-bloods or even Muggle-borns for sure.

This isn't a fairytale. It's more of a traumatic event for me.

"Easy on the veil," someone spoke in an unfamiliar tone. There was a hint of German accent on it, except that her English is good which conceals that accent.

Feather-like fingers skillfully mended their way through the not-so-tight bun, and I was instinctively aware of the comb's teeth scraping a little in my scalp.

I flickered my eyes open.

"Oh good. We thought you were dozing off," Natalya—that was written on her name tag—tucked one stray lock from my face. She was unbelievably pretty, in a Russian way.

"I'm. . .I was just having a few moments to myself."

She gave me a dazzling smile. "I know what you mean. But you shouldn't think off backing out and runaway."

"I wasn't." I told her innocently.

"You're afraid, yes?"

Her question was unavoidable. "Yes." I admitted.

"Master Draco isn't that bad, you know. He is a pretty decent guy, a real gentleman—he's everything a girl could want, you know." Natalya reached over from behind me, and covered my face with a gauzy material.

"You work for the Malfoys?"

She smiled again. "No. I am only Madam Malfoy's beautician."

"Oh. So, how come you know Draco?" His name became an addiction to my tongue. I clearly didn't call him by his last name. Indirectly.

"We came to know each other when he was nine and I was only seventeen."

They were acquaintances? I'm not surprised. She continued to arrange the veil.

I was about to ask her something about Draco, but someone interrupted us. It was the wedding coordinator.

"Where's the bride?" she asked us, her bird-like face severe. I slowly raised a hand.

"Well, we'd better get going! The ceremony's about to start in approximately 30 minutes! Now get your lousy bum arse up, and we'll be off." Then, there was a slam of the door.

Natalya and I shared looks of appraisal, then laughed.

"Let me help." Natalya carried the rain of my gown, straightening the tulle underneath it.

"Can we just Apparate to the chapel?"

I heard her sigh. "Rules are rules, milady. We can't do anything you want even if it's your wedding day."

"But it _is _my wedding day. I thought I had the power to control everything on _my _wedding?" Yeah, where was my veto list?

Narcissa's beautician gave no reply, then made our way to the lobby outside. Camera's flickered everywhere when I came in their view. Mum-in-law was proudly grinning like a madman on the bottom of the staircase. I swear I thought I saw myself turning red like a tomato.

When I stepped down on the last step of the stairs, Narcissa led me away—along with the throng of guards that she'd hired for everyone's safety—and pushed me inside the white limousine that's been waiting for me. It's a good thing the windows were darkly tinted. So dark that you could mistake the sky outside as sundown, but it's only midday.

Narcissa sat on the front seat. Me and Natalya were holding hands in the back. I could feel my heart rising on my throat, constricting me, making it hard to breathe. Why do I feel like this? It's like I am preparing before my execution.

"Shh, calm down, Miss." Natalya whispered in my ear. _Blame it on the coffee, _I bluntly thought.

I gripped hard on Natalya's bony hand and hoped I didn't crush it. My teeth were chattering together inside my mouth. Looks like I am in the verge of breaking down.

I don't cry in weddings.


	2. I Am Petrified By The Sight of You

II. I Am Petrified By The Sight Of You

"Hush now, Hermione. We're almost there," assured Narcissa. She was rubbing both of my hands now. Natalya was there too, rocking me back and forth.

We stopped at an intersection of the highway, and the rain was spattering madly outside. We let the driver to doze off for a moment to give us a little moment for us women.

I was shaking frantically. I knew we're going to be minutes late for the wedding, but I didn't care. I just wanted this pathetic breakdown to end before we could even set one foot out in the church.

"Okay, I'm fucking calm now." Came a flat response from me. Both Natalya and Narcissa gave out a large 'whew' from their mouths.

Narcissa poked the driver next to her. He blinked at her. "We need to go now. The bride's all tapered up and smiling. Now move."

All the driver give was a slight nod and the engine came purring back to life. And so, we sped our way to the chapel—I hope the police won't tail after us for over speeding—with all our fingers crossed together. We hoped that everyone would still be awaiting for my arrival.

Just one more fucking kilometer to go.

"Thank Jesus. We're here." Natalya happily announced. I woke up from my daydreaming, rubbing my eyes with the back of my hand.

From the fogged up windows, I could see five or six men wearing black outfits—holding out giant umbrellas—opening the door for us. I swallowed nervously. We're already here? I could hear my stupid voice rolling over my head.

I reached over the front seat to clutch at Narcissa's gloved hand. She sensed the panic creeping back at once. Her pale eyes lit up with concern and anxiety. For my sake.

The door swung open. A bald man wearing shades that were tinted as dark like the limo's windows. He's wearing a black suit. And behind him was another man in black, holding out an umbrella.

"Are we good to go?" he asked with a toothy grin. I flinched.

I gave Narcissa and Natalya one last look of despair. Then, I gave the man a dull, "Ready as I'll ever be."

He held out one hand, I hesitated first, then took the offer. He pulled me out into the wet pavement, except that it isn't wet anymore since there were a lot of men in black holding out umbrellas everywhere. Not a single drop of rain fell on me. Natalya swung out of the car, clutching the endless train of my gown—again—and dutifully carried it until we were near the entrance of the church.

"Hermione!" Narcissa called out, holding what looks like my bouquet. I'd completely forgotten about my bouquet.

She caught up with—still dry—and shoved the bouquet of white stargazers and white roses too. Isn't it a bit of over-the-top? The stench of a wedding ceremony can be so devastating.

"Let's roll it, boys." And once again, we were marching up the cobblestone steps. I was a bit wobbly, since the heels of my shoes were having a problem with the ground. I've heard wearing stilettos—Narcissa made me wear it beyond my will—could make you fall on your back if you walk on a road such as cobblestone.

"Excuse me," I told the head man of the security personnel—the men in black—and wrung my arm on the crook of his limb. "The ruddy pavement's making me unsteady."

He gave a small chuckle. "Sure, missy. Dang, those kitty shoes must be a rain check for you, heh?"

I smiled. "It is."

We fell silent as Snape came into view. He was clearly not in a great mood today. _Don't worry, Severus. We feel the same way_, I sneered at him in my head.

"What took you so long?" he snapped, his coal-colored eyes narrowed.

"We. . .it was raining hard. Add the traffic to that." I stalled, hoping he wouldn't want to know the idiotic breakdown of mine.

"Where's Narcissa?" Ugh, that dull voice of his.

"I'm right here." She was instantly on my side. Thank God for creating you, Narcissa, I'm glad you're here with me.

"Let's. . .get this over with." Snape left us with a whoosh of his black robes. And then I thought someone should get him a tuxedo, not a dress robe. I shared I-don't-know-what-his-problem-is look with Narcissa.

"Why don't we proceed?" Boomed one of the guards. I hadn't noticed that we were standing still.

_I can hear wedding bells already. _

"Give me one good reason why I should slap you right now," Ginevra Weasley, also known as Ginny, was grinning stupidly at me. I was completely mind blown by her almost-ethereal appearance today.

I was inside a room in the church, surrounded by my pride of bridesmaids and a future-in-law. Everyone complimented on how "gorgeous" I am, hugs and kisses everywhere, and perfume sprayed everywhere. I sat on a velvet lounge chaise, letting Natalya do some last touch-ups on my make-up and hair.

"Because I am marrying the bloke you always paired up with me?" An off tone slipped out of my mouth. Natalya pressed back a grin and excused herself to go to the loo.

"Sort of." She cupped my face with the veil covering it. I smiled forlornly at her.

Ginny spotted the deprived look in my face. She pulled me into a hug. Tears burned the back of my eyes. I had been crying and moping all day, what's next? My next guess that the next time I'll cry, I'll be shedding blood in my eyes.

"Everyone line up!" The bird woman from the hotel a while ago had landed here. At last.

"I have to go now, 'Mione." Ginny gave me a small peck on the cheek, patted me on the shoulder, and sashayed to the front line of the bridesmaids.

It's starting, it's starting.

"Your bouquet, miss." Natalya appeared, and I noticed the bejeweled feather clip on her chin length hair, hading me my bouquet.

I hopped of the lounge, the thin heels getting shaky again. The Bridal Chorus by Wagner played. The bridesmaids in pink sauntered out in the aisle. My heart thudded audibly, enough for Natalya to hear it. Okay, so you can't help but be exaggerated in your "very special day" and the reason behind that is your hyped-up female hormones. Pretty normal for me.

"You have to remember the rehearsal, Miss Hermione." Mrs. Ogtrop, the bird woman, glared at me. "Everything should be in _perfect _motion. So you'd better not ruin it for me."

Her warning stated that she wasn't light on giving punishments. I nodded mechanically. When the last of the whole entourage emptied the chamber, Mrs. Ogtrop twitched her eyebrows at me, signaling me to go out on the aisle, and head for the altar.

_One_.

There was no turning back now. I, the long-awaited bride, had finally let loose by the mother bird from her nest.

_Two._

Cameras blinked brightly at me, kind of blinding me for a moment. I gripped hard on my bouquet, hoping it would give me the courage to withstand the piercing looks, the hooting cheers from my former schoolmates, and all.

_Three._

I a few more feet away from Draco and, I suppose his best man, Blaise Zabini. I saw Harry and Ron, whistling at the sight of me. I smiled shyly and felt my face set on fire. A camera shot me a blinding flash of light.

_Four._

Did I just see Malfoy smile? Or was it a triumphant smirk of his? Can't tell. I am so tense right now. Blaise was now clapping wildly—along with a few hoots. Malfoy held out his arm in a gentlemanly manner; I reluctantly placed my hand on the bend of his arms. He's undeniably handsome. Oh, what am I talking about?

_Five._

On our little walk to the altar now. There were an awful lot of photographers up there. I wished I could hide my face. Ginny, the maid of honor, and Natalya—she was assigned to be a proxy for Hanna Abbott—neatly lined the train of my gown, Ginny took the lovely bouquet from me.

"Are you okay?" Ginny whispered. "You look sort of mollified."

"I. . .do?" I felt my eyes widen.

She flashed me a brief smile. "Oh, I was just playing with you, 'Mione."

I grinned—you can tell it was a forced one—and for a concise moment, I found myself crawling back into her arms.

Ginny pushed me away, "Go. You need to get hitched and get knocked up." she winked naughtily.

I smacked her playfully in the arm, walked back to Draco—with an impassive look on his face—and made a beeline to the altar once again.

"Are you ready?" Draco asked me for the first time ever since I'd arrived. I had the look of contemplation plastered on my face.

"If it means the justification of my life, I am ready as I'll ever be." I shrugged, nonchalantly.

"Well then," Malfoy had his eyes transfixed at the angel statues perched high upon the ceiling. Did he regret marrying me? If he did, he can run away from me any time.

I stared blankly at the golden chalice. "Let's trash this over with."

And we continued our little walk, arm and hand together. I had finally walked through the door of my future. It's welcoming me with a sunny smile on its face.


	3. You Can Wake Up Now

III. You Can Wake Up Now

"Hermione? Hermione, if you can hear me, press my hand, okay?" there was a slight pressure in my hand.

_Sure, I will, _I responded in my head. But I was too deprived from sleeping, so basically, I can't move any of my body parts.

"What happened to her?" a soft voice asked. Ginny? Please don't tell me I have fallen asleep. I can't remember a thing from the wedding.

"She fell asleep on the way to the hotel. And I can't wake her up." Draco slurred. Was he drunk? I recall seeing him uncap a Smirnoff in the limo. Yes, he is indeed intoxicated by alcohol. In the middle of the day!

"Where's my mother?" he asked, pressing my hand once more. He was trying to make sure I was still alive, and had not died on him.

I squeezed my eyes.

"She's downstairs with Harry." Ron replied. No sign of bitterness there. Whew.

"How are we going to wake her? The party's not going to start unless the two of you will show up," Ginny nervously ranted, and I can imagine her, carefully tucking some stray hairs in her ear, and her lips quivering.

I smiled.

"Look, she's smiling in her sleep."

"Hermione? Come on, you need to wake up," Malfoy had his lips in my ear and whispered. I sort of flinched.

"_Mudblood._" His breath reeked of vodka.

It took only one word for me to open my eyes.

"Good. Get up and get changed. We're leaving." His grayish-blue eyes stared at me, let go of my hand, and walked away. He slithered out of the door.

I sat upright, shoving the mounds of tulle and satin away from me. I slept in a heap of lace, satin, tulle, and chiffon. Ginny helped me up on my feet.

"Well, what has gotten into him?" I asked Ginny and Ron. Their blue eyes rolled synchronically.

"Tipsy husband of yours. He'd completely forgotten that he has a wife now." Ron sneered at Draco's direction.

"Apparently, he is, 'Mione," Ginny crossed her arms.

I sighed loudly. "Well, forgive him. He can be a bit off at some times."

"I wonder if one day, he'll forget you—as his wife—and he'll be back to his own old self."

"If that happens, I'll shove a Remembrall in his bum arse."

We all laughed.

Ginny stopped laughing. "I think it's time for you to change into your dress."

I frowned. "Why? I can go to a party dressed like this—" I ran a finger to my wedding gown.

"Your mum says no. She has a gift for you inside the closet." She did? She gave me a wedding present? Mum?

I nodded and followed Ginny.

"So, this is my. . ." Gulp. "Wedding gift from mum?"

I let my eyes graze up and down at the gauzy-looking material. Was she serious when I told her I had to be sexy and demure with Draco around? That's completely mental. My own mother, hare-brained and still my one and only love, letting her daughter turn into a slut?

"You look hot if you wear this!" exclaimed Ginny, dancing around with the dress.

"Um, no offence but. . .I won't wear that."

As expected, Ginny's face wrenched up. I didn't like how distorted it looked. Ugh, no pug faces, Ginny, please. I unwillingly stripped off the lacey gown and the tight corset—revealing reddish marks of the wire in my skin—and in exchanged, slipped in the dress mum had shipped for me.

"You didn't tell me you had a corset on." Ginny noted at the frumpy wire undergarment. I tsk-ed in reproach.

"You have to blame it on Narcissa. She's the one who made me wear it," I hastily pulled out the hairpins out of my head. The most wonderful set of curls cascaded out in my shoulders.

Ginny bitterly laughed. "I am not surprised. Narcissa's a bit of a stage mother-in-law, isn't she?" She handed me a pair of black stilettos.

I shrugged. "Don't think of her that way, Gin. She's what you call the supportive mother-in-law." I slid my feet into the scary-looking shoes.

"Whatever, 'Mione. Are you done now?" Ginny was zipping her dress.

"Um, no," I pointed at the buttons behind my back. She tutted in disapproval. I made her button me up.

"Where's Ginny and 'Mione?" A muffled voice came from the door. Harry.

I heard Ron's audible sigh. "Dressing themselves for the party. Wonder what's taking them so long."

"Don't mind them. Oh, by the way, have you seen Pansy Parkinson?" Me and Ginny stared at each other. Pansy? What was she doing here? I beckoned Ginny to move with me to the door.

"Yeah. I did see her in the wedding."

"I heard Narcissa didn't invite her."

Ginny's mouth turned into a thin line. I guess she didn't like the fact that maybe Pansy's a party crasher. Me either.

"We should keep an eye on her, Ron," Harry warned Ron. I could imagine them, wands out.

Months ago, before the wedding, I've been told by a friend that Pansy had actually made an attempt to do suicide. The medics from St. Mungo's explained that she swallowed the whole bottle of sleeping pills—heartbroken, they explained, because she found out that Draco was going to marry me instead of her.

"Pathetic girl," Narcissa had said when she read it on the Daily Prophet. "Tried to kill herself just to get attention, and to make the people have pity on her."

"I don't understand." I had frowned and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "Why would Pansy commit suicide?"

Narcissa had looked at me with a stern expression on it. "Why? Isn't it obvious already? She's completely stuck-up and jealous about you and my son!"

And I never mustered up another word after that.

"'Mione?" Ginny waved a hand over my face. "Been lost in your thoughts, huh?"

I was lost for words.

"Come. We should make our appearances downstairs." We opened the closet's door, making Ron and Harry jump a few feet away from the floor.

"Gosh, Ginny, you could've set a heart attack on me," complained Ron, who was gasping for air. Harry coughed.

"We were just making ourselves pretty, you dolt. Let's go, before everyone could notice we're not yet down." Then the four of us exited the unfamiliar room, streaking down the flight of stairs, and arriving at the ballroom.

"Oh my," I gawked at the luxurious sight before me. The whole ballroom's decorated with Swarovski crystals, bejeweled chandeliers above, tulle and chiffon everywhere, and there's this big tent-like canopy overhead.

I turned around, still in awe. "Is this real? Or am I just dreaming?"

"No, you aren't, Hermione." A sleek, seductive voice made me go back to my senses.

I was completely blown when I saw Draco—all spiffy and handsome and dangerous in his black tux. I blinked several times to check if he's real too, or not.

"Malfoy." I smiled—it wasn't a forced one.

His grey-blue eyes glinted. "Why, Hermione, we're married now. And why are you still calling me 'Malfoy'?"

I felt the familiar warmth on my face. "I'm. . .I'm still getting used to. . .you know, the informalities between us."

He gave a small smile. I can't help but like it. "You should call me by my first name."

"Sure. . .Draco." Someone cleared his throat behind me.

Slightly annoyed for the interruption, I looked back. Ron Weasley. Pfft.

"Excuse me, 'Mione. We three kids are off to get a drink. You want to come with us?" He took a quick glance at Malfoy. Apparently, he's not happy. Seeing me and Malfoy getting chummy.

"Um—"

"Hermione, dear!" Dear Narcissa, thank you very much for saving me in a tight situation.

I spun around in my heels to meet Narcissa.

"I've been looking everywhere for you," she exclaimed.

"I was with my friends. And Draco." I jerked my thumb behind me. Her eyebrows raised expectantly, as if she'd been predicting that I'd be hanging out with her son the entire night.

I will be at Draco's side from now on. I made a mental list in my head.

_Duh, _a little voice replied with a snort. _You're smart, am I right? So, if you're that smart, you should know what to do with that husband of yours, you dolt._

"Yeah, I know. So shut up will you?" I muttered.

Narcissa looked at me like I had gone nuts. Maybe she heard me mutter back to my spineless thoughts. Oops.

"What are you mumbling about, dear?"

"Nothing." I shook my head. "Nothing. Just. . .talking to myself. . .?"

She nodded. "Good. Now—" Narcissa spun me around to my friends who were waiting for me a moment ago.

"Can I steal Hermione from all of you tonight?"

What the heck, Narcissa, what the heck.

It was kind of difficult to evaluate the situation I'm at right now. Women are passed out on the chaise lounges, men slurring their way to the parking lot—their wives or fiancées or whatever you call their partners—and me and my collective family are trying our best to stay up awake.

"I feel tipsy," announced Ron. Apparently, he is _more _than tipsy.

"Look who's talking." I muttered. Harry and Draco chuckled. Ron shot them a deathly glare.

"I see stars." Ginny was staring at the chandeliers above. Smoking pot again, huh?

"Excuse me," I said, rising from my seat. Draco's eyes followed me.

"Where are you going?" he asked, taking a sip of his Scotch.

I pointed to the comfort rooms. He rolled his eyes and made a shoo-ing gesture with his free hand. I smiled and got on my way.

It wasn't such a long trip to the loo, anyway.

As I entered, a strong waft of cocaine and pot filled the entire space of the loo. I recalled Ginny and Harry enter in this same spot, sucking in a cigarette with something green in it.

Weed.

And so, here I am. Stupid enough to know that my magically-inclined friends are addicted to Muggle drugs (there are no such thing as cocaine or marijuana in the Wizarding World).

I should've known better.

I sat in a toilet seat, peed, and got drowned in the pool of my thoughts. Things are a-chagin'. I heard from one of the guests at the reception party. Wrong. Things are happening way too fast for me, and I wonder if one day I couldn't even keep up with its pace. Flashbacks from the future began to collide in my head like falling stars. In one flashback, I saw myself with a baby—Draky-poo's the daddy, folks—and the next thing I knew, we were expecting another.

Another baby-loaded package from the one who did IT to me himself, who else.

I stood up, hitched my knickers, and washed my hands in the sink. Pretty pathetic, I told myself. There was a box of wet wipes in the counter.

I wanted to punch myself in the face.

My hands grabbed a fistful of the wipes. Furiously, I rubbed my hands with the damp cloth. Harrumph. Why am I being so thick?

"Hermione?" Ginny.

I composed my face. And turned behind me. "Hey. I was just cleaning myself up."

"There's something we need to talk about." Her face was dead-serious. I stopped fiddling with my hands.

"So. . .talk."

Ginny's lips opened out, let out a sigh, and talked. "I'm. . .I'm having problems lately."

I cocked one eyebrow up. "Like what?"

She sighed again. Sadder this time. "I think I may be pregnant."

My mouth gaped open. What? Ginevra Weasley? Is Pregnant? To Who? Questions popped in my head like nuclear bombs had landed in Hiroshima. Who made Ginny Weasley pregnant? Harry? Dean? Seamus? Neville? Who? Who? Who?

The whos hooted all around like owls. I swatted them away mentally.

I sucked in a breath and held it long inside my mouth. "Who's the father?"

Ginny's eyes watered. "It's Harry."

BOOM! The bomb had finally exploded.


	4. Your Shit, My Shit

Iv. Your Shit, My Shit

I can't digest this.

You know what hurts? To know that your best friend here is pregnant with a baby that—I don't know if she's too sane enough to keep it either—is practically dying. By what?

Drug addiction.

There were two simple things in my head in that time: either to bitch slap this young lady with me, or pretend that I didn't hear that revelation of hers. I didn't choose any option. I was so pissed at her that I couldn't even do anything. I'd fucking rip my hair off. Afterwards.

She waved a hand at me. I noticed that I had been gawking at her like a mind-fucked idiot for a minute.

"Does he know?" the words spewed like molten lava. I can't help but feel hurt and upset at the same time.

"Harry?" Ginny's eyes locked vision with mine. Innocent. I saw the fear and panic flood her eyes. "I don't know. I haven't got the chance to spill it out for him."

"No, no, no." I shook my head furiously. "Does he know that you are knocked up and doing drugs?"

Gasp.

Her glistening blue eyes detached it's line of eye-sight from me. "I. . .can't help it, 'Mione. I am addicted to it."

"Then, I think you should get rid of it." I simply told her.

She looked at me. Scared. "Get rid of what?"

Can't stop it, but the words just rolled out of my tongue. "The baby. If you're so screwed up or stoned by drugs, you should get rid of the baby."

"No!" she half-screamed. Almost like wailing out like a wombat to me.

"I can't—I do not—abort! I cannot do abortion!"

I frowned. "Why not? Huh? Got a good explanation to conceal yourself from the fact that you are going to have a chubby-wunny baby with my best friend? Keeping it as a secret to your older brother? Or to your female confidante that you've been sharing secrets with from the moment you were born? Ginny, I love you, but what you've been keeping from me. . .it hurts me. A lot. Do I have to exaggerate on that? Ginny, you are the only one who can save yourself from this. You know that? I am just here—like your pretty little conscience reminds you—to help you out. Just cut the drug crap, and you'll be safe. With me. I'll be with you no matter what happens. No matter if Harry'll run away from you and disown you. I am always here. Do you get that, Ginny? I am here for you."

Hope my rant did some good on this poor, poor, lonely, fragile woman.

My best friend sucked back sobs. She's letting the rant in on her system. "Oh, gods, Hermione. I am so. . .so freaking sorry. I am confused right now, I just can't help it any longer—I—" and there she goes, completely broken.

I got out of my reverie and pulled the schmuck in my arms. "Shh—" I shushed her, "Don't be so loud. I am here, I am here."

I am here for you became my mantra for troubled friends like this redhead here.

"Make me stop, 'Mione. I can't control myself any longer."

"I will. If you'll cooperate with me, you bugger."

She laughed. For a while only. I'm glad I am able to control feelings. For once.

"Hey. The chicks have slithered out of their shells. What's up?" Ron grinned stupidly—definitely the dorkiest kind of grin ever—and it made me grimace.

"Sod off, Ron." I let Ginny fall on a heap of fluffed-up cushions. I saw that Harry and Draco weren't there.

I was about to ask where the two douche bags were. Ginny beat me to it. "Where did those two—where in the world are they? We were just beautifying ourselves in the powder room, idiot."

"Calm yo tits, sis. Not my fault they had to skip me out for a while. Harry and Draco are just having a heart-to-heart talk, okay? Chill it, ladies."

Chill? Chill? What the fuck is Ron babbling about? I can't _chill _for a while. And whatever those two fucks are up to, well, I can't wait to hear about it.

"Shut it, Ron. We aren't in the mood for your lame-ass quotes, okay? Us, women, are getting a bit teensy-tense."

"Excuse me, Gin—" I interrupted. "—but _we _aren't tense tonight."

"Oh, really?"

"Suck your balls, Ron."

"Shut up!"

Sucks being stuck with weasels.

Draco and Harry were back from the patio outside. I wonder what those two did back there. Probably it was something I shouldn't eavesdrop on.

I let my line of vision trail before Draco (I am not ogling him, for chrissake). And his mystic eyes caught mine watching him.

"What?" he hissed. Okay, so he doesn't like me gazing at his "god-like appearance."

"Nothing." I mouthed at him. He glared at me like I've been stabbed by bicycle spokes. I clamped my mouth shut to avoid any insignificant word to spill out.

"Have you been fucking around with him?" Ginny jerked her chin towards Draco—who looked bored with us revolving around him—and poked Harry several times.

"I wasn't messing around with Draco, love," said Harry with pure affection. That made me jealous. No one has ever called me _love _ever since I was with Viktor Krum. And I—beyond hopefully—want someone to address me like that.

Like I want Draco to call me his one and only _love_.

Oops. That should've been kept private. Oh well, at least whoever's going to know about that should be _silencio'd _for the rest of his puny life.

I'm just sayin'.

My eyes flickered to the grand antique clock that hung on the wall behind me. It said that it was already after two in the morning. Hours do fly fast in the Muggle world. But that I don't mind, I mean, I am used to it. Why should I even bother?

"Hey, Malfoy," I swatted him with my stiletto-free foot. He frowned at the impolite gesture.

"It's two fifty-seven. Do you want to leave?" I pointed at the exit.

He shook his head, rubbed a finger in his cheek, and finally stood up. Draco pulled me up, effortlessly. I gave a quick kiss to Ginny and a flying smooch to both Ron and Harry.

Draco pulled me along with him all the way to the lobby. I wasn't happy with this drag-your-new-bride-home. This isn't what I had pictured out in my head.

Angrily, I ripped my arm off of Draco's steel-hard grip. Jesus, he can make my blood cut off in that same spot that he had grasped. Tourniquets, that's how I would describe it. Bloody tourniquets.

He stopped walking to turn back to give me one penetrating glare. "Hurry up, you lazy cow. It's getting late, just as you had told me."

I rubbed my hurting arm. "At least give me some proper name to call me."

We continued walking to the parking lot.

"Like what?" he inquired, thinking of names inside his brilliant little mind that would suit me well.

"Like Granger or Hermione. Give me some respect, okay? For once, this is all that I ask of you, Malfoy."

"Gee, what happened to the name 'Mudblood'? Doesn't hit any nerve on you anymore?"

I punched him on the shoulder. "Not that one."

"Do you want me to call you like old married couples' names such as _love _or _honey_? What about _sweetheart_? _Babe_?" A natural smile popped out of his lips when he said that.

I shut my mouth up and felt a familiar prickling on my face. Was I blushing? I lifted a hand to my face, patting one cheek at a time. Yeah, I am red as a fucking tomato.

The two of us walked in silence until we reached Draco's Lexus. I had to control myself since I had never seen a luxury car before. Except that Draco had already seen the almost-gaping-like-an-idiot-before-a-grand-object. And he absolutely snorted with a chuckle. He slid inside the driver's seat.

And I became red from head to tits.

The passenger's door opened and I let myself in. The unbearable weight of drowsiness had gradually dropped itself on me. Why now? My lids drooped and I yawned.

"Hey, sleepyhead," my _husband_—I still can't get used to that term—teased. I can't answer back since I know I am already incoherent.

"Let me sleep, dolt." I turned to my side.

"When we get home."

"How about now?"

"That won't do."

I gritted my teeth.

"Why not?"

He hesitated which was something new to him. And to me. "I still have a lot of things to ask you."

I forced my eyelids to open. "Fine."

He smirked. I stuck my tongue out at him.

"Where are my questions? Why haven't I heard any single one come out from your prissy mouth, Draco?"

"Number one. Why are you blushing tonight?"

"What kind of question is that? If you don't have any sensible issues of me to ask, I'll go to sleep." I curled up into a ball and halfway—

An abrupt screech of brakes had me crashing to the car's dashboard.

"Ow." I patted my throbbing forehead. I mustered up a look to Draco. "What was that for?"

He frowned. "For being rude. I was totally courteous with you the whole time, and you just slept on me?"

My frown deepened. "Well, I'm sorry. Next time, talk to someone who thinks it's okay to be awake at this unholy hour."

"Remind me that the next time."

I yawned. "I will, I will."


	5. Home Sweet Home, Hermione

V. home sweet home, Hermione

There were a couple of things that occurred inside the car all the way to Malfoy Manor—Draco and I decided that we were too exhausted to Apparate—I had a red pulsating bump on the forehead, Malfoy has slap mark on his cheek that I gave to him a few moments ago, and a lot more crap.

"You could've at least given me a chance to elaborate it." Draco rubbed the place where I had slapped him for the umpteenth time.

"That's what you get for messing with a sleepy woman," that was simply my comment. He groaned loudly. He parked the car at the façade of his mansion.

"And I am here right now, wondering out loud why I agreed to marry this snappy, sleepy, know-it-all woman."

"It was Narcissa's plan. Don't blame me or her, either. Just accept the entire truth that we're bound eternally for each other. No breaking the vows or even the binding spell within it, or else one of us—"

"I know! You don't have to tell it to me like you're sort of bragging about how you can memorize such nonsense things. It's pissing me."

My voice wavered. "Finally! Someone _finally_, after ten years since Hogwarts, someone had the guts to tell me that he hates me for being such a talking encyclopedia!"

The steely stare of his grayish-blue or bluish-grey eyes softened. "You despised it all along?"

A rush of air exited from my mouth like vapor. Adrenaline and displeasure pleaded in my veins that they need to be out of the body. "Yes! You know what? I really did not like being called as a walking and living encyclopedia."

"You're repeating your words."

"I don't care. I don't care if one day I'll wake up dumb."

"Touchy, but not convincing to yourself."

"Let's get out of here. I can't stand it when I'm angry inside an intact space."

"Sure. You badly need some air to calm your fucking tits," Draco muttered.

"Don't mind the tits. They're perfectly capable of making themselves calm." The two of us clamped our mouths closed after that.

"Do you know what time it is?" Those were just the first seven words of Narcissa's late night speech with us. I stiffened at the sight of her. Never had I wished to see my mother-in-law upset at me or Draco. She had no makeup on when I saw her. The blond hair frizzy at some parts. Plus, she's wearing a green silk robe. And a scowl on the face. And eye bags.

"It's four fifteen. Mum, we were just enjoying the last of the party with Ron and Harry and Ginny."

"Pfft. Not a good excuse, my boy."

It was my turn to speak up. "Um, Narcissa, it was my fault we stayed out late. I had gone emotional with my friends the entire night. I am not drunk, as you thought I would be when I will step one foot inside this house. Please forgive me." Please, let that alibi work, make that alibi work, make it work.

Her expression became kinder once again. "All right. You're forgiven. But. . ." she trailed off.

"But. . .?" Draco wrinkled his brow in puzzlement.

"But you'll have to sleep in the same room, did you get it?" Was she nuts? Me sleeping with the enemy? No, no, that will not do. That will just completely create a reputation about me.

"Mom!"

"One word is enough for one wise man. Good night. I hope you'll make babies overnight!" She cackled before Apparating upstairs. That leaves us to me and Malfoy standing like pigeons on the hall downstairs.

"This is your fault."

"My fault? How could it be me when you were being bitchy the whole time."

I rolled my eyes. This blond dude beside me was on the brink of punching me, but he couldn't. Duh, because I am woman. And if a man hits a woman then it's a federal Muggle crime. No kidding.

"This is plain crap." I laid my sight on my bare feet. Now where did I put those stilettos?

"Now that we're married, we bicker. A lot." Yes, Draco. You've noticed it too?

It's as if a music was on cue in a movie. Except that music was the awkward silence that neither one of us would like to fill. Why so awkward?

"Let's head upstairs. I'm getting sluggish." Which we did without any more whiny protests.

Hey, I do not whine a complain. Don't compare me to a teenager.

"Your room is. . .an organized mess." I scrutinized Draco's room. Fits for a Slytherin prince, I see.

"Organized mess? What do you mean by that, Granger?" He began to strip off his shirt. In front of my innocent eyes.

I could swear, in that moment—I mentally hyperventilated—I felt my joints lock in place. Never had I seen a guy—yeah, I never watched Ron or Harry or any other boys in the Gryffindor Tower undress in front of me—do like that. With my two eyes.

_Avert the eyes, Hermione. Avert them and simply look away from that incredible sight. _

Pssh. I am having an ogling session here. Ew, what am I talking about? I speak like a pervert.

Oh, Merlin. Make me a good excuse to leave this place at once.

_How about. . ._ the same voice that always lingered in my head was my spokesperson once again. _You tell him that you need to use the bathroom to change too. _

Perfect.

"Hey, um, Draco?" Please don't make my voice sound crappy. "I need to use the loo. Can you tell me where it is?"

He only twisted his neck to face me. "It's on the right of the closet."

"Thanks." and off I went trotting like a deer.

Well, isn't his room quite a fancy place to live in. Yeah, I should get used to this kind of living. Jesus, I'm the newest Lady Malfoy. You should need a copy of the Daily Prophet badly. You should read the entire paragraph about the wedding 18 or 20-something hours ago. Hahahahaha. Kidding.

Okay so this little "adventure" of mine inside Draco's closet seems pretty fun. I had this dreams when I was small about me winning the lottery, buying a huge mansion, having this princess-y room all to myself, and this closet where all of the clothes that I wanted are there. And I saw myself playing dress-up in that dream closet of mine.

Here I was, standing before the men's section of Bulgari, Lanvin, Armani, and a lot more brands. This is more of my father's dream collection of the clothes that he wants in über-sophisticated Muggle stores. I guess there is no more space for the wife's dorky clothes.

Except. . .a tiny glitter of sequins caught my attention. Wait up, Draco owns something that has sparkling sequins on it? How gay.

I stepped inside, walked over to the sparkly thingy. Er, it was a keychain to a key in a sliding door. The sliding door filled with unrevealed manly shit. Just sayin'. It was unlocked. Good.

I was clearly disappointed.

Do you wanna know why?

The things behind that door I held on seconds ago were loaded with women's clothes.

And then a paper flew out of nowhere saying:

"For Lady Hermione Malfoy

Xx,

Marchesa."

Can you imagine? A whole cabinet filled with Marchesa's creations? Does that mean I'll have to wear a floor-length gown everyday? Where are my casual clothes?

Below the garment bags were the neatly folded shirts and pants and denims. Shorts and skirts, plus sweaters and whole lot more. For me.

Hell, I should be grateful to whoever planned on stocking me up with clothes.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

"Hey. You didn't tell me Narcissa had Marchesa and a lot more designers fill up a whole cabinet for me." I prodded Draco after I had showered and then changed into my pajamas—the ones I had saved before I had them all donated to the welfare.

He swiveled around in his chair. "I figured out that it was you who's going to find it all out in the end. Did you check everything there?"

"Um, no. I was too busy pawing through _your _clothes, and I found this—" pointing to my Gryffindor shirt I'd dug out of Draco's chest of drawers.

The stony eyes dilated. Hah, I knew it. He was the one who stole my shirt back in our seventh year. I wonder why he did it. Besides, I like the fact that he had it with him all along.

Wait. What?

"Where'd you get that?"

"The drawers. I didn't have any shirt with me."

"You could've just chucked out another one instead of that."

Heck.

"I like this."

"I don't."

"Do you want me to go shirtless instead?"

I heard him gulp.

"Fine. Fine."

"Are we going to bed now?"

"I'm sleeping on the sofa." As if I'll take pity on you in the end, if that's your decision, Malfoy.

"You'll regret saving the bed for me, you know."

"I don't mind."

Did he just say that he doesn't mind me tackling the bed? And that he's going to camp out in his sofa? Is he nuts? Draco Malfoy no longer the bad boy I knew? Oh my.

"Thank you, Draco." I sleepily yawned and crawled in the bed. Ooh, it's so soft. Like heaven. Unlike its owner who's a demon in an angel's clothing. Yeah. That's a good description for my _husband_.

"Nox." it took only one word to kill all of the lights.

Husband. Husband. He's my husband. I claim him as mine.

"Knock, knock." The voice was so horrifying, I thought of the house—the entire manor—as a living nightmare. You know, the ones filled with gruesome ghosts lingering during midnight? And the creaky floorboards—um, for the record, this house isn't full of squeaking wooden plank boards—freakish spider webs. Sounds like a haunted mansion you Muggles go to during Halloween?

Draco and I were instantly on our feet. He stood firmly on the floor, and as for me? I was standing on the bed. Forest green sheets—made of velvet—were swathed all over my body.

"Who is it?" I asked, holding the sheets up to my chin. Goosebumps popped all over my arms.

Draco's handsome pointy face looked at me for a brief fraction of a second. If only you can slow mo the time to watch it again. "My mother."

Narcissa must be checking on us if we're sleeping together. Why o why does she have to be like that? I get it. She wants to know if me and her son are going to have sex on their first night together. (Press buzzer) Um, no, it's a negative. Even if we're going to have angry sex together, the results would just say unsatisfactory. Like we should try it.

"I think I know what she wants." Draco just stared at me as if he'd seen me talking in pig Latin. I frowned at him, considering that look as some insult.

I leaped off the bouncy mattress to the hard oak wood floor. Stalked off to talk some sense to the dumb blond, as you can see.

"Here's the plan," I spoke tapping a finger on his perfectly muscled chest. "If you think your mum's checking if we're sleeping together, we should be in bed. _Together_."

It was his turn to get mad at me. "Why? I can't accept your offer, Mudblood."

My hands grabbed a fistful on the front part of his shirt. "Listen, ferret, if you won't cooperate, then I guess I'll have to do—"

The door squawked open, revealing a crimson colored nightgown and pale limbs. Add a blond head to that.

"Quick! Hug me." Draco hissed in my ear.

"What?" I snapped. He pulled my waist close to his body—see me writhe and cringe and shudder—and what I did was to wrap my arms around him.

"Dear, am I interrupting a moment here?" Even if you weren't looking at her, you can see a smile imprinted on her face like it's already there.

I felt Draco's mouth in my ears. Heat inflamed my entire face completely. "Pretend you're crying."

Which I actually did. For our sake.

"What happened?" mum-in-law asked her son sweetly.

"Hermione's just a bit depressed. She hasn't spoken to her parents lately." What a lame excuse, Draco. I whimpered fakely.

"I see. That tells about the no-show in the wedding, am I right, sweetie?" Was the question for me?

"Y-yes." my heart pumped uneasily. Does it always have to be this way with the Slytherin prince around?

"This is so awkward. I can't—I'll leave you two for now." A couple of footsteps to the right, then left, aaaanddd. . . .door opens and closes. All clear.

I peeled myself from Draco's warm self. This is too much, I'm going to sleep and forget that a wedding happened, forget that someone slipped a ring on my finger, forget that I have a husband—I want to forget everything.

From the exact time the snake-colored blankets touched my skin, and I had laid my head on a down-filled pillow, sleep welcomed me like an old friend has been waiting for me the entire day.

_Hello_.

"Do you think she overdosed herself with the Muggle pills?" The voice was too "drowned" for me to hear. Was she underwater? Or is it just me?

"Sleeping pills, Mother."

"I know that."

"You know what, Mum? Hermione has this habit of sleeping very late and waking up really early. . ." a male's voice trailed off, unsure if he wants to continue or not.

Voices. I can hear voices. Am I awake now? Sure, I am since my senses are very clear to me. And they are talking about me. Something warm and clammy was holding on to my hands. My lifeline? Was I slipping away from life?

". . .but this time, I am not sure if she'll still arouse from it." what? I'm partially dead? Gods, Hermione, breathe! Wake up!

_Hic_.

"Eh?" came the dead monotone from the female talking a while ago.

_Hic._

There, I can feel my lungs and my heart. And hiccupping.

"Hiccups, mum. She's hiccupping."

"I'll be back if she's up and pumping," the last words the woman said before clinkering and clattering of her heels announced her departure.

I blinked my lousy eyes. The first thing I saw was blurry. Two halo-like objects were floating like lanterns. Ghouls.

"Draco? Why do I see ghouls above me?" My nervous system's working now. Which means every limb, every toe and finger can be moved.

"'Mione, they're not ghouls. What you're probably staring at is the canopy of our bed." _Our _bed?

Blink, squint, and rub eyes. No clarity of my vision yet. "Why are my eyes cloudy? Am I blind?"

An assuring press on my hand startled me. "No, you're not. You've been out long."

I shut my lids. "Great. I'm still useful."

Draco laughed.

"I need my sight back, Malfoy."

Laughs. I was giddy myself when I heard one authentic kind of laughter from Malfoy.

Are we getting into terms now? (Don't also sum up my hidden feelings for this Slytherin boy. They're not included.). Cause I can predict we're getting alooooooooooooooooong. My fingers are crossed.

And deep inside this youthful heart of mine, still hoping that he and I could fall in love too. I'm not desperately asking for it.

That's why I'm freaking crossing my fingers together.

_Keep them crossed, Hermione. One day, luck and love will find its way to you._

Thank you daily mantras.


End file.

Harry Potter, Humor, Romance