Shh, don't tell them that 'I do' by Rachel A. Prongs

Rating: PG13
Genres: Romance, Humor
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 4
Published: 07/04/2006
Last Updated: 07/04/2006
Status: Completed

Based on a Challenge (http://talk.portkey.org/index.php?showtopic=12201) by Mycha_kk. Harry and
Hermione got married in secret - what if the secret got out? Not OotP or HBP compliant.




1. The Secret is Out
--------------------

**Chapter One: The Secret is out**

Harry growled in frustrated annoyance, as he made to grab Hermione. She slipped deftly out of
reach, in a way that could only be achieved by practice. ”No, Harry! You need to rest!”

“I most certainly don't need to rest!” Harry replied impatiently. ”I've been suffering
this hospital wing for a week now, and couldn't have been more rested if I tried!” He scoffed
in the direction of Madame Pomfrey's office, as if that would have made her let him out any
earlier.

”Oh, Harry,” Hermione sighed sympathetically. She could certainly understand that he was sick
and tired of being bedridden, but unfortunately, Madam Pomfrey refused to believe that Harry could
have defeated Voldemort and escaped relatively unhurt, so she kept him chained to the bed an extra
week for good measure. That, and he really *needed* to rest.

Tenderly she stroked his hair away from his eyes.

”But more than anything,” Harry continued, ”I feel terribly alone at night.”

She was not so quick to react when he grabbed her wrists and pulled her down, catching her lips
in very tender and very ... through ... kiss. She was about to warn him that he should not display
his affections so openly - secrets, secrets - as people could come running into the hospital wing
without warning, but it was lost when he cupped her face with his hands and proceeded to place
butterfly kisses all over her face - and then down her neck. ”I miss you, Hermione. I wake up all
the time, expecting to find you there, but you aren't.”

Hermione shivered. She too missed it.

Harry's eyes met hers, and she felt that all-too-sinful thrill run down her spine - that
mischievous look always did that to her. ”Remember what we use to do in the mornings? That always
gives you such a ravenous appetite when breakfast comes?”

Hermione blushed. ”Harry!”

His lips graced her throat. ”That lunch hour in the library? Remember that one? I certainly
do.”

The warmth that rushed to Hermione's cheeks was not out of embarrassment - well, maybe a
little.

”Not now!” she hissed, her face quite red. If he continued she would soon do something very
naughty, and the hospital wing was not the best place. For the thousandth time this last week, she
cursed Harry's hospitalization, and the secrecy they had to be shrouded in. If she openly could
show him the affection and comfort that was his due!

As he ran a hand sensually up her neck and into her hair, before he kissed her again, Hermione
wondered if it would not be worth it to help him escape Madam Pomfrey…

”You know,” Harry said, his voice suddenly light, ”Once I get out of here, I'm going
straight to my bedroom, and get that stuffy robe off you.”

Hermione struggled with herself. Was it really possible to be more hot and bothered than she was
right now? But, Harry still needed his rest – taking down Voldemort had been very taxing.
*'Note to self; when repeating yourself is becoming a habit, your mind is close to shutdown.
Security-measures recommended.'* Unfortunately her body did not listen to her head. Nor did
Harry.

”You really do look your best with nothing on - or perhaps in that tiny dark green piece that
didn't really -”

Harry was interrupted. Later Hermione blamed it all on him. It was he that had disturbed her so
that she couldn't think straight - he had a tendency to do that, unfortunately - or,
fortunately, depending on how you looked at it - and prevented her from hearing the door opening
and closing.

As such, it was all his fault that they got caught in a somewhat compromising situation (yes, he
did have his hands under her blouse, the sneaky devil, and yes, she had her head thrown backwards
in pleasure, but it was all his doing!). And of course, both Ginny and Ron demanded an explanation
- Ron the loudest.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING! GET YOUR HANDS OF HER YOU BASTARD!”

Sometimes, Hermione mused, Ron’s logic wasn’t very logical. It was okay that he went into
‘big-brother-mode’ now and then; it made her feel loved, after all – but not towards his best, male
friend. Honestly, he should know that Harry was even more protective of her than he was.

“Ron,” she tried, “calm down.” It didn’t work. It might have something to do with the fact that
she was still straddling Harry (all her clothes on, of course. Mind out of the gutter) probably
looking rather flustered. *‘Oh dear.’* Blush.

“CALM DOWN? CALM DOWN! HE HAS HIS HANDS ALL OVER YOU!”
True. Harry’s hands were at her waist – he held her in a strong, firm grip. *‘Sigh. So
good.’*

Ginny, on her hand, was just looking back and forth between her and Harry, her eyes wide.

“What is going on here?!”

*‘Uh-oh.’*

Mrs Weasley had insisted upon remaining at Hogwarts until Harry was fully recovered from his
ordeal. While she was too polite to say anything, Hermione was getting quite annoyed at the woman.
Firstly, she annoyed Harry by coddling him so. While he was still young, he was not helpless (which
he had proved time and time again) and should not be treated as such. Secondly, taking care of
Harry was *her* task, not Mrs Weasley’s!

But of course, she couldn’t say anything. Sometimes she hated that secret which seemingly wasn’t
a secret anymore.

Now, apparently, the woman had heard Ron’s not to quiet ... over-protectiveness, and decided to
sort things out. She froze, however, when she upon entering the room (Harry had finally gotten a
private room all of his own in the Hospital wing) finding the patient and Hermione in a rather
interest- *inappropriate* position.

Hermione braced herself for the inevitable.

“HERMIONE GRANGER! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!”

Arthur Weasley, who had entered behind his wife, gave both her and Harry thumbs up behind his
wife’s back. “-TAKING ADVANTAGE OF A WOUNDED CHILD-“ Hermione almost glared. Harry was no child.
*‘No, and that he has proved to you, repeatedly.’* A smug voice that was *not* her own
whispered in her mind. Her face went flaming red at that. “-ABUSING YOUR FRIENDSHIP-“ The woman
read ‘Witch Weekly’ way too often.

As Mrs Weasley paused for breath, Hermione tried to get in a word. To her mortification though,
the worst thing happened.

Professor McGonagall, closely followed by Professor Dumbledore, had both heard the racket, and
gone to investigate. And now, her esteemed professors had caught the Head Girl of Hogwarts in a
very compromising position with the Head Boy.

She whimpered and struggled out of Harry’s grip (he hadn’t said a word through the entire
exchange) only to hide behind him.

To late though. Professor McGonagall had seen. And she was not pleased. “Miss Granger, what do
you think you are doing? And you as well, Mr Potter. I must say I had not expected this from any of
you.” She paused. Hermione noticed that Professor Dumbledore said nothing – he merely twinkled.
McGonagall’s eyes narrowed. “Such an inappropriate behaviour from the Head students at
Hogwarts-“

Harry interrupted her. Hermione noticed that he actually looked quite smug. How did he manage
that? After three dressing-downs in as many minutes? “Inappropriate, Professor?” he said
innocently. “I would hardly call it inappropriate.”

McGonagall’s lips thinned even more, if possible. “Mr Potter, you would do well to be quiet.
Behaviour such as you have shown here today is *not* acceptable.”

Harry rose from his bed, taking Hermione’s hand in his. “Indeed?” How he managed to be so
authorative in a pyjama was beyond her, but she didn’t really care. Did he have any idea how sexy
he was when he took control like that? He tugged her down from the bed and wrapped an arm around
her.

Hermione sighed dreamily, without even considering how silly and un-Hermione it was. Now he was
*possessive*...

“I cannot imagine why it should, in any way, be inappropriate if I chose to be affectionate
towards my wife.”

...

...

...

“Mr Potter, what are you doing out of bed?!”

Sometimes, Hermione thought, Madam Pomfrey was a lifesaver.

“If you must know, Albus, I placed twenty galleons on Mr Potter’s eighteenth birthday, and
another ten on Ms Granger – I apologise; *Mrs Potter’s* nineteenth birthday.” Minerva
McGonagall did not look too happy as she sat before the Headmaster of Hogwarts, confessing some of
her more ... *frivolous* ... actions.

“Thirty galleons well spent, Minerva,” Albus Dumbledore twinkled gaily.

Sometimes, the old coot just delighted in tormenting his employees. *‘He is planning
something.’*

“Yes,” she said ironically. “A better investment I have not made.” She sniffed disdainfully. She
had thought the two youths would not act on their feelings this quickly, seeing as Potter had
little to no experience with the opposite sex, and Miss – Mrs Potter had never been very
*forward* when it came to boys.

Dumbledore chuckled. “I myself had 100 galleons on Graduation Day.” He idly twiddled his thumbs
where he sat, placed comfortably behind his desk. “I would so have liked to have the two of them
walk out of Hogwarts, hand in hand.” He smiled. “As it is, they probably will.”

Professor McGonagall was a bit confused, and quite astounded. “You mean to say that you did not
know?” she asked. It was rare that the wizened old Headmaster did not know everything that went on
inside Hogwarts – and everywhere else, too. But then again, Harry Potter did have a tendency to
surprise everyone – just take a look at his OWL score. After listening to Severus complaining about
the boy for five whole years, she had gotten the impression that he had no talent at all for
Potions – but lo and behold, did he not get the top score in said subject when the OWLs were
graded?

Now that he was looking out to be one of the finest aspiring Potions Masters Hogwarts had ever
produced, even the sourly Head of Slytherin had to concur that ‘the boy had some talent, after
all’.

“Indeed I did not,” Albus replied. “It appears as though Amelia was sworn to secrecy.”

So the Mistress of Magic was involved? Logically, she should have guessed. Someone would have
had to wed the couple, after all, and Harry had saved her life last spring, so she owed him a
favour (even though Harry insisted that there was no life debt).

“I am puzzled though,” she said. “To my knowledge, wedding ceremonies require witnesses, and no
wizard or witch, except their close friends, would have kept this happening a secret, and since it
is obvious that none of their close friends knew about it, it cannot have been any of them. The
press would have known everything about it before the marriage was even consummated.”

Dumbledore chuckled (again). “Which is why the young couple choose Muggles – you did not believe
that Harry would marry a young girl before consulting her parents?”

Of course not. Professor McGonagall had to see the logic in that – Mr Potter was a very polite
and quite charming young man. There was a question, though. “Albus, how is it that you know all
this?” she asked. “You claim not to have had any knowledge about this marriage before this
afternoon, when it was revealed to us – in a rather inappropriate manner, I may add,” she thought
back to the scene in the Hospital wing. “But still you have an awful lot of information about
it.”

“Oh,” the Headmaster said, casually. “I gave Amelia a fire-call. Seeing as she is the only
possible person with the authority to do this in absolute secrecy, I knew she was involved,
somehow. And now that the secret is out, she is no longer bound by her oath of secrecy.”

That explained it then. But she still didn’t know why she had been called to the Headmaster’s
office. Oh, well. He’d come to the point eventually.

Ron was pacing up and down in the boys’ dorm, raking a hand through his hair, repeatedly, and
muttering to himself. Neville had taken refugee behind his bed-hangings, Dean had, after half a
minute of his pacing declared that Ron had gone utterly mad and left, fearing it was infectious.
Seamus was probably off somewhere with his last girlfriend.

“They could have told me! I’m their best friend!” Ron raged.

*’Yes, but when seeing how you reacted…’*

“Don’t they trust me?!”

*’…no.’*

…

“I beg your pardon!” The red-head rounded on the annoying little voice.

*’Chill! No need to be upset – they just don’t trust the hypothetical person that might,
hypothetically, try to pick your hypothetical brain.’*

“Oh.”

*’Does internal voices have the right to relieved sighs?’*

“But I’m still their best friend! They should have told me!”

*’…haven’t we been here already?’*

“We’re the Golden Trio, aren’t we? We’re not supposed to have secrets! Hell, we’re not supposed
to fall in love with each other either!” Ron paused. “Er…”

*’Yes, I agree. That sounded very off. Gross, even.*

“No matter!” he cried.

*‘Is this your insecurity complex showing its ugly head? The normal
afraid-to-be-let-out-and-pushed-into-the
shadows-by-the-oh-so-famous-hunk-who-lived/man-who-won-the-most-charming-wizard-award/man-who-triumphed-and-saved-us-all/boy-who-got-the-girl
kinda thing?’*

“No.”

*’Is too.’*

“Is not.”

*’Is too.’*

“Is not.”

*’Is too.’*

“This is pointless.”

*‘True.’*

“The point is that they hid this from me! For an entire year!”

*’Nine months, as a matter of fact.’*

“And their explanation?”

*’You must agree that it is quite sound.’*

“Bollocks! It had nothing to do with wanting to protect Hermione from Voldemort-“

*’Don’t say the name!’*

“-or securing some privacy! Bloody hell; no!”

*’What was it then?*

“Er…”

*’An attempt to throw off the betting pool?’*

“No, that’s just too cruel.”

It was then Ron had a horrible epiphany, just as Seamus returned from whoever he had been
snogging. He had obviously overheard some of what had been said, for he looked quizzically at Ron.
“Ron, why are you talking to yourself?”

Ron ignored him as the terrible truth hit him straight on. “I lost my bet.”

*’Talking to oneself is the first sign of madness, you know.’*

“You have lost your bet, you know,” Luna said absently as Ginny plopped down beside her.

Ginny snorted. “I don’t care. I’m glad it happened – here I went and thought they’d never get
together, and then they’d been doing it all the time.”

Luna didn’t bat an eyelash at Ginny’s somewhat crude language. “Well, at least it explains
Hermione’s weird behaviour and all her references to ‘Harry teaching her to fly’ and ‘riding his
broomstick’ – and that one about wands and polish.”

Ginny raised her eyebrows as she too realised what that may have meant. “Oh Merlin. She’s one
lucky girl.”

Luna merely turned the Quibbler and started to read it upside down. “I believe she has broken a
few hearts today, catching Harry.” The Quibbler front-page flashed the title ‘Harry Potter, Wizard
or Hunk?’ towards Ginny.

She snickered. “No broken hearts, I believe. She’s just angered a lot of girls who wanted to be
the one to bed ‘The Boy-who-lived’, or, as Lavender aptly named him;
The-boy-who-is-just-beyond-gorgeous.”

“I’m not angry,” Luna said dreamily. “I wouldn’t want to bed him – I like Ron much better.”

Ginny chose not to comment on that.

Harry sighed as he dropped into a chair in the Head Boy and Head Girl’s common room. He had
finally escaped the Hospital wing (yay), since Madame Pomfrey had been distracted by… er … it was
something about a bet. He didn’t know exactly.

Hermione was still mad at him for managing to spill their secret, but he honestly thought she
was being stubborn. It wasn’t that often she went into an argument she couldn’t win, but he assumed
that he was discovering a new side of her – which he didn’t mind at all. He loved all sides of her,
and if she had moments in which she was unreasonable, he simply found it endearing. She wasn’t
perfect, and it wasn’t like she had to be correct all the time … that would have been very boring
after a while. Tiresome, too.

That he secretly enjoyed getting one over her can pass unmentioned. He was convinced that
*she* absolutely *loved* winning their arguments, and it wasn’t that often he was able to
outwit her. Not that he minded. He found that smug *‘I won’* expression of hers totally
irrestible.

This one, of course, she couldn’t win. He had too many good reasons for that. He would have to
forgive her for being cross with him, eventually, when she came to her senses… Harry smirked. That
could be fun…

Ahem, anyway, all those good reasons; firstly, Voldie was gone, no more threats on her life
because of her connection to him. Secondly, they would sooner or later have been forced to tell the
truth – for example if she became pregnant, which he had every intention of helping her with,
someday. Thirdly, he knew she had never felt entirely comfortable with hiding this from their
friends (he hadn’t either, as a matter of fact) and it had made for some amusing and annoying
episodes. They had had a rather intense spat when Terry Boot had invited her to Hogsmeade. Harry
obviously wasn’t the only one who had noticed just how delicious she was, and he’d been jealous. It
had been an irrational reaction for his part, but it was bloody difficult to just stand and watch
other boys flirting with her, not being able to do anything (It was supposed to be a secret,
remember). She was his wife, for goddess sake!
But the making up had been good. *‘Oh, yeah…’*

Harry quickly decided that he’d go down that road when Hermione had stopped being angry.
So he settled for sitting idly, flipping through the pages of a book, and trying to read a little
for his NEWTs. Not that he feared he’d fail them, or anything … his wife had her ways to convince
him to study - none of them particularly innocent.

Since Hermione was a very intelligent witch, it didn’t take long before she realised that she
was in the wrong, and even less time went by before she figured that quarrelling with her husband
was rather counter-productive. Therefore, Harry had merely read a few pages before a pair of arms
came from behind and encircled his neck, and a kiss was placed on top of his head. “What do you
think will happen now?” asked Hermione.

Harry was tempted to ask if she was still mad at him, but thought better of it. She liked to
admit defeat just as much as he did, and he knew she had come to the same conclusion as he had; now
they had to deal with the consequences.

“Well,” Harry said slowly. “We’ll have to brace ourselves for the press…” Hermione sniffed
disdainfully. “We should probably give Luna an interview,” he added. “At least we can trust her not
to twist our words.” Since he didn’t think her position behind him was all that nice (he couldn’t
see her, nor touch her, nor kiss her) he tugged at her arm and pulled her into his lap.
Hermione nodded, agreeing with his words, her face taking on an expression of determination, which
Harry always found incredibly cute.

“I just hope Ron will come around eventually,” she said, biting her lip. “He was quite angry
with us.”

“Oh, he will,” Harry assured her. “If not, Ginny will make him. She seemed nothing short of
delighted.” Did she have to bite her lips when she was thinking? It did funny things to his brain.
And blood flows. “One very good thing has come of this, though,” he said.

“Oh?” Hermione said, her eyebrows raised. It was obvious that she was still a bit miffed with
him – if not only for the sake of appearance.

“I can now exercise my right to throw Terry Boot into the lake should he ever try to flirt with
you again.” He was not stupid enough to allow her to retaliate.

It was, undoubtly, the worst wake-up call Hermione had ever received.

Their bedroom had been *invaded*. Hordes of owls, of all colours and sizes circled around
the room, hooting, screeching and fluttering.

So Hermione did something which was decidedly unlike her. She screamed.

As it was, that was rather fortunate, for it startled her husband (she liked that word) out of
his shock and into action. Since he was a very powerful wizard, it was only a 'whoosh'
later and a very disgruntled flock of owls could be seen on their way back to their respective
homes, their letters and packages strewn all around a somewhat dazed couple.

It was not over though, for owls continued to enter their room, and Harry was forced to ward
their windows, only letting in a few owls at the time. The stream of letters did not seem like it
was going to stop very soon, and Hermione suspected that they might not be congratulatory.

Harry, being the practical, determined man he was, started to sort through the letters, and the
sensible part of Hermione kicked in. Determined not to act as one of Harry's mindless fan-girls
(she actually screamed?) she followed his lead. Several Howlers exploded randomly around them.

There were generally four kinds of letters; the pink, frilly ones, which were for Harry, coming
with the most outrageous offers and containing pictures she would certainly burn before Harry saw
them. Was this his normal fan-mail? She would have to start censoring it.

Then there was the hate mail, which were mostly bad-mouthing her and begging Harry to reconsider
his choice - they were quite rude as well. She found herself described as an *'ugly,
attention-seeking hag'* and *'a devious, evil witch'* who did *'not have
what the Boy Who Lived needed'* and should be *'discarded and trod upon as the filthy
little mudblood she was'*. They were quite hurtful, but she had always believed herself to
have a strong character, so she decided to ignore them to the best of her ability.

The third kind was the threatening ones. Those letters were addressed to her, and was from
people promising that they would kill her in various sadistic and inventive ways if she did not
relinquish her claim to the Boy Who Lived. Some of the letters of the second and third kind were
Howlers, but Harry and Hermione paid them little attention. They had enough to deal with as it
was.

The fourth kind, however, was the worst, at least from her perspective. And seeing how Harry
reacted, he thought so as well. She should, of course, have expected it. She had been through it
once before, in her fourth year. But she was not at all prepared when the letter she held suddenly
exploded in vicious blue flames. Had it not been for Harry she could have been seriously wounded.
Fortunately, being the greatest wizard of his generation as well as several other generations, he
was able to sense the magic in the letter and was about to interfere just as it erupted. Thus he
managed to save her from the flames and heal the minor burns she sustained. It was however, the
final straw. This morning had been the worst, ever, and she had to struggle to hold her tears back.
When Harry saw that, together with the remains of the letters she had read, he acted ever so
sweetly and wrapped his arms around her, pressing her face to his chest and telling her that they
were all bloody idiots and that no one could *ever* compare to her. They were using his bloody
*title* when speaking about him, for God’s sake! As if he was some kind of trophy. *(“Not
that I mind being* your *trophy, Hermione,”)*

It didn't take long before she composed herself. Harry always managed to make her feel
incredibly safe, so he had that effect on her. That didn't necessarily mean that she pulled
back from his embrace - being the weaker sex had to have *some* advantages; Harry holding her
and being all manly and sexy being one of them.

It was an odd sight, though. The two of them sat, embracing in the middle of what remained after
the owl-storm, letters scattered around them, and one odd Howler still going off now and then.
Hermione sighed heavily. To think it had only been yesterday that they had been discovered... And
now they had to get up to face the school. The Gryffindors would probably take it calmly, but she
wasn't so sure about the Slytherins. Nah, she opted for staying in Harry's arms instead.
Perhaps she could persuade him to stay in bed a bit longer... say, an hour or two - perhaps the
rest of the day?

Alas, they could not. No matter how tempting it was, it wouldn't be proper behaviour from
the Head students. Besides, they would have to do something about these letters, something Harry
had given some thought already.

”I'd say we send it all to my lawyers,” he said. The firm 'Wren & Wetra' had
been the Potter family's lawyers for centuries, and had a well-deserved reputation as the most
dangerous advocates in Wizarding Europe. ”They will certainly know what to do, and what steps we
need to take. This-” he gestured towards the letter which had exploded on her, frowning ”-can not
be tolerated. If it had been merely a prank, then we could have let it pass. But this was certainly
not only a harmless jinx, and I want the guilty one convicted.”

Anyone wonder why Harry made her feel so safe?

When breakfast was over, Harry felt reassured that Hermione was back to her old self again. Her
recent mood had, admittedly, confused him a bit, but he soon realised that the events of the last
few weeks had been the cause of it. The stress of Voldemort, his own hospitalisation, their
marriage being shrouded in secrecy, had sent her into hyper-fretting-mode.

He would have to make it up to her.

Thankfully, breakfast - harassing as it had been - had managed to shake her back to being his
voice of reason. As the news of his married status had reached all corners of the school – and the
world – already, she could also be his barrier against other girls. In the past, he had had to fend
for himself when it came to them, feeling Hermione’s burning gaze on him and knowing that if he
stepped but an inch out of line, he would pay dearly.

To be honest, the now-visible rings on their fingers, and her fierce glare, were much, much more
effective.

The fact that their rings could now be worn in public, and not hidden from the world, was what
saved Terry Boot from sharing fate with Voldemort. Had Harry not been so pleased about this, the
boy’s comment (an uncharacteristic display of brash stupidity, considering that he was a Ravenclaw)
‘I bet she’s a whore in the sack’ would have resulted in more than a temporary impotency hex –
temporary in the sense of ‘not forever’.

*“I would appreciate if you did not refer to my wife as a whore, Mr. Boot,”* he had, quite
icily, replied to that. *“While I can admit that I don’t have* anything *to complain about,
I would rather that you did not speak of things you know* nothing *about.”* The last bit
was said quite sarcastically, and Terry was smart enough to catch the insult.

Harry was quite pleased that he’d managed to protect Hermione’s dignity, given the other boys
around him just enough information about her ability in bed, *and* insulted Terry Boot (who
*dared* flirt with his wife – the nerve!) in exactly two sentences.

Hermione had a dilemma. On one hand, she did not want to discuss the personal aspects of her
marriage with the female population of Hogwarts – who were all *very* interested in everything
Harry-Potterish, especially if it had anything with nakedness and sex to do. On the other hand, she
was incredibly pleased about everything in her life that had with Harry Potter to do. In addition,
she could not suppress her gossipy side completely – she was a girl after all. No one is
perfect.

“Come on! Hermione! What’s it like?”

Hermione looked pointedly at Lavender. The girl was *not* known for being a prude. “You
mean you don’t know?” Six years of sharing dormitory with the girl had resulted in her knowing a
bit more about Seamus’s physical abilities than she ever wanted to know.

Lavender merely rolled her eyes. “I’ve never slept with Harry Potter!”

*‘Something I’m eternally grateful for – he’s mine!’* She thought. Then she smiled calmly
at the other girls. “I’m not complaining.” The girls leaned closer, wanting to hear more. “You know
of course, that Harry is of the … practical, open-minded sort.” With that, she hid an indulgent
smile and proceeded to eat her bacon.

The flock around her twittered delightedly, catching her meaning at once.

“What about his body, Hermy?” Parvati asked, eagerly. “You really can’t see much with those
robes he’s always wearing.”

For once, Hermione ignored the way Parvati butchered her name, and hid a grin. “He’s an athlete,
Parvati, with an athlete’s endurance. What do you think?” *‘Revenge is sweet,’* she thought in
satisfaction as Parvati went green with envy and the other girls gasped delightedly. *‘Yes, who
thought I would ever come to appreciate Quidditch…’*

“But how big is he?” somebody asked from the back of the crowd. Everyone snickered and waited
expectantly.

For the first time, Hermione blushed. *‘Oh God.’* It was not because it embarrassed her –
far from it. These nine moths had taught her to appreciate the bigger… er, finer things in life. It
was the memories… *‘Is it hot in here or is it just me?’*

Some of the girls giggled. “She’s blushing,” one muttered. “This gotta be good…”

*‘Oh yeah,’* she thought weakly, feeling the need to … talk … to her husband, as soon as
possible – privately, of course.

As much as they tried, they could not get another word out of her on the matter.

The day proved to be quite eventful. Both of them had to endure the eyes that followed them as
they walked from class to class, the knowing looks that seemed to say *‘We know what you’ve been
doing together.’* While true, it annoyed them both to no end. Especially Hermione, who wasn’t
used to this kind of attention. Harry took most of it in a stride, but kept his hand in hers as
often as he could – finally proving to everyone that he was the only one who could claim Hermione.
Hermione rolled her eyes at this behaviour, and would never admit that she thought it was cute.

“One should think that marriages was something rare and unheard of,” Hermione scoffed and glared
at a group of whispering girls. “Do they think it so strange that I’m capable of loosing my
virginity?”

Harry, who was in the middle of his lunch, laughed, and consequently choked on his sandwich.
Hermione patted him on the back as he tried to catch his breath.

“It’s not funny,” she said, her glare now directed at him.

“I think it’s more strange that Harry Potter got married,” he replied, grinning. “I am, after
all, the hero of the Wizarding World.”

Hermione poked him in the arm. “I’m impressed,” she said dryly, sounding all but. “Though I’d
think it more strange that Harry Potter was actually capable of getting a girl, clueless as he
is.”

Harry, knowing that she was teasing him, narrowed his eyes playfully. “You’ll pay for that,
witch,” he said, eyes twinkling.

Hermione’s eyebrows went up. “And how exactly do you intent do make me pay, mister?” she asked,
her expression suddenly mischievous. With that, she placed a hand on Harry’s thigh, and proceeded
to trace idle patterns on his leg, dangerously close to...

‘Damn…’

While she managed to eat her food and keep a conversation with Ginny, Harry didn’t say another
word during lunch.

Potions was always a trying lesson. Snape always did his best to get a rise out of Harry, and
the fact that Harry had matured and paid less attention to Snape’s childishness was a source of
annoyance for the Potion’s Master. Which again ensured that Snape gave as many detentions and took
as many points as he possibly could. For some reason, Harry was sure that his married status would
not change things to the better.

While never having done particularly well in Divination class, and only managed to scrape an
Acceptable on his OWLs, Harry proved that he was an apt Seer that day. Severus Snape practically
billowed into the classroom like an overgrown bat, made his way to the front and immediately sought
out Harry. His eyes then flicked to Hermione, and his smirk turned ugly. Placing his hands on his
desk, he leant forward.

“How cute,” he said. The words jarred in Harry’s ears, for he was quite certain that ‘cute’ had
not been a part of Snape’s vocabulary. “Our resident *newlyweds*,” Snape continued, and glared
a bit more.

He straightened suddenly. “I care not what you do when not in my sight, Potter, but you will
behave yourself in my class! Keep your eyes and hands to yourself!” His scowl promised both point
reduction and detention.

Harry almost rolled his eyes. Considering the fact that Snape hadn’t picked up on the two of
them all the nine months they’d been married, one should think that he knew how to behave
himself.

Besides, he should save the comment about hands to Hermione.

Snape then continued to make sure that nothing disgusting should happen in his lessons, by
moving Harry and Hermione apart. They both had to restrain themselves from speaking up, since they
had been working on a rather important project together. However, seven years in Snape’s class had
taught them that objecting would not work, so they kept silent. Though, Harry lost Gryffindor ten
points when he sent Hermione a despairing look. He’d been partnered with Roger Appleby, a Slytherin
who should never have been in NEWT Potion class. He was almost as bad as Neville when it came to
brewing potions.

“Well, that could have gone better,” Hermione stated matter-of-factly when they could finally
leave the class.

Harry merely snorted. “I am really, really glad that he won’t be grading our NEWTs,” he said.
Not only had they lost several points for looking at each other – regardless of the fact that
Hermione had to look in Harry’s general direction when copying from the blackboard, but they had
both gotten a T on the project they should’ve delivered at the end of the class. Snape paid no heed
to the fact that him splitting them up had made it totally impossible to complete it, as all groups
had different projects.

“So, Potter,” a very unwelcome voice drawled. “How utterly predictable. Well, no one has ever
accuse you of having good taste.”

Harry’s wand-hand twitched. After a totally awful Potions lesson, Draco Malfoy was *not*
his idea of fun. Well, hexing him might be fun… “Did your brain cells die with Voldemort, Malfoy,
or was it from loneliness?” he ground out, eyes flashing. “Because you’re making no sense to
me.”

Malfoy smirked annoyingly. “I’m talking about the Mudblood, Potter. Who would think the almighty
Boy-Who-Lived would settle for something so… dirty?”

It was a very stupid thing to say. One simply did not insult Hermione in front of Harry. It was
just not a very intelligent thing to do. But then again, Malfoy was a notoriously slow learner.

“Though, I suppose, she has her uses,” he continued, leering at Hermione.

Hermione, who knew the warning signs that Malfoy didn’t, managed to stop Harry’s hand as he went
for his wand. Not that she would mind that Malfoy got a good hexing, but she had noticed what Harry
hadn’t – that Snape was standing not far from them, just waiting for an excuse to deduct points or
assign detention.

Harry met Hermione’s eyes, and with the silent method of communiqué that should annoy people
around them in years to come, she managed to convey what was about to happen. Her eyes flickered
slightly, and Harry understood. He relaxed, and put his wand away.

“Weak, Potter. Whipped already, I see.” Malfoy drawled.

Harry, who had calmed down, merely smirked. “Kinky, isn’t it?”



2. Epilogue: The Beginning of a Happy Ending
--------------------------------------------

**Chapter Two: The Beginning of a Happy Ending**

Hermione Potter had gotten quite used to being woken each morning by gentle kisses from her
husband – and quite frankly, she enjoyed waking up that way. Today, however, she woke up and found
him still sleeping. Both of them had slept longer than usual, and there was no hurry to get out of
bed yet. The NEWTs were done with, the End of the Year Feast had been last night, and the train
home would be leaving later that day. Today was her last day as a student of Hogwarts, and as she
snuggled closer to Harry, she realised that she was a bit sad. The castle had been her home for
seven years, and it was here she had gotten her first friends, broken her first rules, helped to
save the word, and fallen in love. But as she studied Harry’s sleeping face, she knew that it would
be okay – he would be there every step of the way.

Contently, she rested her head on Harry’s chest and waited for him to wake up. It had been a
strange few weeks, when the world found out about their marriage. The initial reaction had been
loud and intense, but everything seemed to have settled now. Several of their friends who had
already graduated had sent letters to congratulate. In fact, Hermione had even gotten one from Cho
Chang. The girl had seemingly gotten over her and Harry’s slightly disastrous attempt at dating and
was happy for them both.

Fred and George sent a rather unusual Howler, congratulating them both on the grand ‘prank’.
They had also included several fertility-increasing potions, and requests for a new generation of
Potters to corrupt. Hermione had calmly returned the potions, and assured them that Harry had no
need for such items, and even if he did, she herself had a father that wasn’t quite ready for
grandchildren.

The school had also accepted their relationship. Mostly. A few well-placed jinxes had been
needed to discourage a couple of tarts that’d been flirting a bit too much with her husband for her
liking.

Hermione felt Harry’s breathing change, and realised that he was waking up. As he teetered
between asleep and awake, she met him with a lingering good-morning kiss. He instinctively wrapped
his arms around her and blinked sleepily.

“Now that’s what I call a good incentive for waking up,” he said groggily, not entirely awake
yet.

She smiled slightly and kissed him again. During the school year these lazy mornings when they
could cuddle and kiss as much as they wanted were few and far between. She intended to make the
most of this one. Fortunately, Harry quickly cottoned on to what she wanted, and had no particular
objection.

Of course, some moronic, petty, idiotic Neanderthal of 1st class just *had* to
knock on their door just when things started to get interesting! The nerve of some people! With a
grumble, Hermione got out of bed and wrapped a robe around herself as she went to answer the door.
With no intention at all to welcome their interrupter very kindly, she yanked the door open. And
blinked.

And blinked again.

And found herself hauled out of her (and Harry’s) bedchamber by an enormous group of twittering
girls.

Harry’s reaction to being hauled out of his bed and dumped unceremoniously on the floor was to
lash out with a wave of magic that sent all the occupants of his room to the floor.

“Bloody hell, Harry!” came a well-known voice form the other side of the room. Harry was already
on his feet, looking fit to kill. As he looked around the room, he realised that most of the
school’s male population from third year and up was there.

“What’s going on?” he asked, confused. “And where’s Hermione?” A few moments ago he’d been
enjoying a very pleasant morning snog that could easily have turned into something very enjoyable
indeed. He was a bit put out with Ron and all the other guys right now.

Ron, who had gotten to his feet as well, clapped him on the shoulder. “We’re here,” he
announced, “to help you get ready for your wedding.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, and then another. “My wedding? And here I thought I was already
married…” he said, slowly.

Ron ignored him. “I’m your Best Man, of course.”

Harry grabbed Ron by the shoulders. “Earth to Ron! Hello! What are you talking about? *I got
married last November!”* Had the entire world always been this crazy and he’d just been to
wrapped up in Hermione to notice?

“Well, yes, about that. Since you neglected to tell the rest of the world about all that, and
forgot to invite me to the bloody thing, thus forfeiting the entire bet, leaving us with a large
pot of money and nothing to do with it, we decided that we’d give you the wedding ceremony you
never had,” Ron explained, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Harry gaped at him. “Why on earth would you do that?”

Ron shrugged. “Mum said such things are important to girls. It’ll make Hermione happy.”

Harry sputtered for a moment. As if he didn’t make Hermione happy!

“Let’s get started,” Ron said happily. “You’ve got to get ready. Mum’ll kill me if you’re not on
time to your own wedding. The ceremony starts at 2pm sharp.”

Harry looked at his watch. “Ron, that’s four hours from now,” he said slowly. Surely it didn’t
take that much time to throw on some dress robes?

“Great!” Ron said, and turned to the other boys who’d remained silent till now. “Where did that
Firewhiskey go?” To Harry he explained, “You never got to have a Stag Party.”

Harry rolled his eyes. The way Ron said it seemed like *not* getting drunk on a strip bar
the night before your wedding was the end of the world. Well, no matter what Ron said, he was
obviously going to get married to Hermione for the second time – and he was *not* going to be
drunk when he did.

“Wait a second,” he said as something Ron had mentioned hit him. “What’s this bet are you
talking about?”

Hermione tried to follow orders, she really did. But it was kind of hard to glare at Ginny and
at the same time remain still. “You mean to say that *the entire school, teachers included,*
had a bet going on *when* Harry and I was going to notice each other? And no one won because
we were already married? And that you decided to use the money to arrange a proper wedding for
us?!”

“Don’t shriek, Hermione,” her aunt said as she adjusted the wedding gown. “It’s very
unwomanly.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. Her mother’s sister had always frowned upon Hermione’s ‘unwomanly’
attitude. A proper wedding indeed. She snorted. She’d had a proper wedding already.

“Yes,” answered Ginny, and then asked pointedly, “Wasn’t that *nice* of us?”

Hermione glared again. “Of course it was. I’d just liked to be *informed* first.” Truth to
be told, she was looking rather good in the dress she was currently being fitted into. It wasn’t
that she minded having a second wedding – it was just a shock, that’s all.

“What worries me,” her mother broke into her thoughts, “is that you’ve got no jewellery to
wear.” All the women around the room frowned.

“I’m sure we can find something for her to wear,” Molly said. “I have a few Prewett heirlooms
she could borrow.”

Hermione pouted at being referred to as ‘she’. “I’m sure ‘she’ can fix her own jewellery,” she
said, before drawing her wand and muttering a soft ‘accio’.

Eyebrows disappeared into hairlines all around the room as an intricately carved box came
zooming towards Hermione after a few seconds. Everyone leaned in to get a glance of what was in the
box, and ‘oh’es and ‘ah’es spread around when she opened it.

As soon as jewellery was mentioned, Hermione had known what she wanted to wear. Soon after
they’d been married, Harry and herself had gone through the Potter vaults, which not only held
money, but also all kinds of artefacts, heirlooms and jewellery. Some of it was several hundred
years old, and very out of date. Hermione had been amazed at what was considered pretty and
fashionable three hundred years ago. With Harry’s permission, she had gotten many of the valuable
pieces picked apart and re-set into something more modern.

This box contained several of these pieces, as well as the Potter family jewels. They were,
fortunately, very tasteful. They would have been perfect for her gown as well, with emeralds and
diamonds in white gold. A bride, however, could never wear family jewels. It was a serious breach
of conduct. The amazing platinum set however, that held more than a 100 diamonds altogether, would
be perfect.

He wasn’t nervous this time, Harry decided. No, really, the fluttering feeling he felt was more
anticipation. He could still remember how utterly stunning Hermione had been the first time, and he
had no doubt she would be just as beautiful now. Ignoring Ron and Sirius’ attempts at distracting
him, he kept his eyes trained at the door Hermione would enter.

Sirius had not been very pleased when he found out that Harry had been married in secret. He had
shown up together with Remus, two days after the news reached the papers and promptly turned Harry
into a frog. While Harry could easily counter the spell, Sirius kept following him around and
turning him into one at the most inconvenient of times – such as when he needed to go to the
toilet… suffice to say, Harry had not been pleased with the unexpected bath, and Sirius had gotten
a few nasty jinxes his way.

In the end Hermione got fed up with her husband being a frog half the time (he turned into a
frog while he was kissing her) and turned Sirius into a poodle. She then proceeded to attach collar
and chain. Unfortunately for Sirius, he was not able to counter the spell, as Harry had done.

Snape awarded Gryffindor 20 points.

Remus, being of a much calmer nature, had pulled Harry aside and cast a silence ward. He still
hadn’t told Hermione what Remus had said that caused him to blush so hard.

The Great Hall was packed with people, all eagerly awaiting the wedding of the century. Harry
had almost backed out of the whole thing when he saw them, only relenting when he was informed that
only a select few were allowed at the reception.

His heartbeat speed up as the bridesmaids entered. Ginny had handpicked herself, Padma Patil and
Susan Bones to that duty. Harry paid little attention to that though, but kept his eyes fixed upon
the door.

You could hear a pin drop as Hermione entered the Hall. Of course Harry always thought she
looked wonderful, but he had to admit that wedding dresses suited her very well. The dress was
simple, with next to no decoration. Held in place by straps, and flared at her hips, leaving a
trail of white in her wake.

She had also, he noted, refused to wear a veil. How very typical of her.

As her father placed her hand in his for the second time, he smiled at her and squeezed her hand
lightly. “You look lovely,” he whispered.

She blushed faintly. “You look handsome as well,” she whispered back. “And you know all about my
fetish for bow-ties.”

Harry managed not to groan. “Tease,” he hissed quietly, through closed lips, as they turned to
Dumbledore. Hermione smiled serenely. Harry tried not to think about what happened to his last
bow-tie.

They continued to tease each other after the ceremony was over, throughout the reception, while
eating cake, while dancing, while listening to speeches. By the time of the last speech, both of
them were more than ready to leave. Sneaking out of the Great Hall through a side door, they found
the corridor empty. The other students had been sent home for the summer shortly after the ceremony
ended, and as such no student was out after curfew.

“Harry,” Hermione whispered in his ear, in a voice that made him shiver. “Our room is the other
way.”

“Who said we were going to our rooms?” Harry asked, smirking. Ascending the stairs, he found the
hunched witch that guarded the secret exit through Honeydukes.

“What’s going on?” Hermione whispered, now curious as to what her husband was up to.

“A little surprise,” he replied, as they hurried through the tunnel. “You see, us males don’t
take as long as you females to get dressed.” Hermione scowled. “As such, I had a little time on my
hands.”

As they met the hatch that led to the cellar of Honeydukes, Harry wrapped his arms around
Hermione. “You see, my darling wife,” he said, and kissed her, “I realised shortly after our first
wedding, that we never had a honeymoon – so I planned for us to have one this summer.” He couldn’t
resist and kissed her again. “Originally, I had the dates set a little later, but this wedding
presented me with a perfect excuse to move those dates a little.”

Entirely satisfied with himself, and knowing that they were now outside Hogwarts wards, he
apparated them both from where they stood, under the cellar of Honeydukes in Hogsmeade.

After a long and disorienting trip, Hermione found her feet on the ground again. She also
noticed that she was outside, as a mild breeze caught her gown. Looking around, she gasped. She was
standing on a beach, its white sand glistening in the sun. Palms and tropical plants covered what
appeared to be an island. Inside the coral reef that protected the small beach they had landed on,
stood a small house – in the water, on top of poles.

“God, Harry, where are we?” she asked, amazed. Considering that the sun was up, it had to be
some distance from England!

Harry coloured a little. “Well, it appears that I have a couple of unplottable islands in
Indonesia,” he said.

He had dual-apparated them across the world.

“So, do you want to check the house?” he asked, and indicated to the pier that led out to the
house.

Hermione shock her head slowly. “Not right now,” she replied, as her fingers went for Harry’s
bow-tie. “I’ve always wondered what it’s like to make love on a beach.”

**Note:** Ok, so it took me two years or so. But while not betaed, it’s finally out. I hope
you enjoyed it. I may not have stuck entirely to the challenge rules, but at this point I count on
you being amused enough to overlook that little fact.

**The rules of the Challenge:**

Setting:

Harry and Hermione get married during 7th year BUT none had know about it (even Dumbledore!)
Only Ministress of Magic (who IMO will be Madam Amelia Susan Bones) know about marriage because she
allowed to it. (She had owed them her life after their six year so she fulfilled this request)

I want you to write a scene where H/hr let their little secret slip... And how their families
and friends and enemies react to this news.

Rules:

1) It should be funny (use some humorous comments and also some naughty ones)

2) Someone must said it was predictable.

3) There must be some hormonal females crying their loss (I mean Harry's heart)

4) It must be one-shot

5) There must be two bets; one started by teachers other by students; the bet is about when H/Hr
get together and of course none has won

6) there must be some teasing about marriage and questions like: "is she/he good in hmmm...
you know?"

7) People whose reaction must be included in fic are:(their reaction can be brief but must be in
fic):

a) Ron, Ginny, Neville, Luna

b ) Mr.Weasley and Mrs.Weasley

c) Dumbledore, Snape and McGonagall

d) Lupin, Dobby, Hagrid

e) Fred and George

f) Rita Skeeter

g) Cho and Victor (they should be IMO, but don't have to if you don't feel to write
them; the other ones must be used)

8) H/Hr didn't make love before marriage (they are proper wizards!) But one of their enemies
may asumed aloud that they got married beacause they thought Hermione has been pregnant.

9) At the end everyone to our couple's suprise decide to make a big wizarding wedding for
them. (they are going to use money from their bets)

It's up to you how the secret is revealed

e.g. it can be right after downfall of Voldie in Hospital wing Harry complains to himself about
not being able right now to do naughty things to his wife because he is made to rest and someone
heard it... and explanation are demanded.

You have two posibilities to write this fic:

1) set in the end of 7th year right after Voldie's downfall

2) several years after graduation (remember: they got married in 7th year!) so they had a secret
for some time;

If you had taken second possibility then Hermiones parents are dead (died in six year) This has
brought H/Hr even closer and right after their death Harry promised

Hermione he would take care of her which was common knowledge (that's why none was surprised
when H/Hr started living together right after graduation)