Chapter 11: Wedding Bells
Author notes: Well this is a rushed chapter so consider yourself warned. No complaining! Or…well…okay, you can complain. But remember, bad reviews make baby Jesus cry. And by "baby Jesus," I mean me.
So…yeah…I was going to break it up into two parts and do another double post but I tried that once and it was a complete train wreck. Like that train wreck in Greatest Show on Earth where all the acrobats are crushed in a heap of twisted metal and the clowns pillage the nearby towns. You can probably tell where the second, longer chapter was supposed to start…
…or maybe not. I don't know. Grrrrrr. But this is an important part of the story. So enjoy.
And thanks for the reviews and/or the reassurance. All you HHr guys rock. God should totally shoot you a high-five. Boom! (and by God, of course I mean Gerard Butler).
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
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The next morning was an endless rush of wedding preparations. Tonks' parents and family friends arrived and the drawing room had to be rearranged for the ceremony. With all the frantic sorting and greeting and running about, Hermione didn't get a single opportunity to talk to Harry all day.
At four o'clock, Hermione and Tonks began to get dressed for the ceremony. They used Hermione's bedroom, but since Tonks didn't want Hermione seeing her wedding dress until she was completely ready, Hermione had to charm a sheet to hang between the two of them.
Tonks now happily concealed, Hermione gave a put-upon sigh as she carefully unwrapped the pink package from Mrs. Niddlemark's boutique. With the Sword of Damocles hanging over her (or in this case, an unbelievably silly Celtic wedding theme and Tonks' eclectic taste in clothing) she expected her bridesmaid's dress to be something along the lines of an orange and chartreuse robe covered in Celtic knots. Or maybe a purple and green toga that had "Kiss Me I'm Celtic" scrawled across it.
Instead, Hermione opened the package and found an exquisite iridescent violet gown.
She gasped as she took her dress out of its box and held it up to the light.
"Tonks! I can't believe it. Honestly. I'm speechless," she said with a half-laugh.
Tonks poked her head out from behind the curtain. "I know, I know. I'm sorry Mione. Boring color, right? But you can't upstage the bride now can you?" Tonks disappeared, and Hermione slipped into the delicate gown, charming the purple ties to lace up her back as she adjusted the bosom.
The dress was made from a shimmering violet material. It had an off-the-shoulder satin bodice trimmed with sky-blue stones that glistened in the firelight. The sleeves were thin wisps of sheer material that barely covered her upper arms, and the skirt was layered with a violet metallic material that had hints of iridescent pinks and greens swirling in its depths. A dozen curling tresses of lilac vines twisted their way down the skirt, and glittery hints of sapphire dotted the small train that trailed behind her.
Hermione didn't know how "Celtic" it was, but the dress was certainly fairy-like and ethereal. In fact, the material was so thin, she felt rather scandalous in it. Every movement seemed to show the curve of her legs and the tight bodice left little to the imagination.
She crossed her arms, suddenly feeling a little too exposed. Her shoulders felt especially bare, but she had to admit, the gown did showcase them beautifully. Hermione looked around for stockings and shoes to go with it but didn't see any. She was going to ask Tonks if she had them, but right then a couple of female house-elves popped in to help them with their hair.
As per Tonks' instructions, the house-elf cast charms to flatten her hair a bit, so that Hermione's usual corkscrew curls became looser as they spiraled down to her elbows. Hermione waited to see how her hair would be pinned up, but the elf seemed intent on instead coating her eyelids with some sort of violet iridescent powder. Her cheeks were dusted with a shimmering powder and her eyelashes darkened. Apparently done with her task, the house-elf disappeared behind the curtain to help Tonks with her dress, leaving Hermione alone with the problem of what to do with her hair.
"Don't Hermione." Tonks' muffled voice rang out from behind the curtain.
"Don't what?" Hermione asked, gathering up her hair.
"Don't do what you're doing. Leave your hair alone. We're not putting it up."
"Tonks, we can't do that," Hermione insisted. "It's completely inappropriate."
"No, it's completely Celtic. And if you don't leave your hair down, you'll be completely failing in your duty to indulge my every whim On. My. Wedding. Day."
Hermione rubbed the bridge of her nose, fighting off the headache that was starting. She knew she should argue the point, but it was going to be a long arduous day if she interfered with Tonks' completely Celtic vision for her wedding.
"And stop brooding about it Mione," Tonks called.
"I'm not brooding about it," Hermione muttered, a bit put out that Tonks knew her so well.
"Yes you are. Hmm."
Hermione sensed that Tonks was sticking her tongue out at her.
"Okay! Everybody quiet. I'm ready!" Tonks shouted. "Prepare to be dazzled Mione! By me. Because I'm dazzling." Tonks made ruffling sounds as she gathered up her train.
"Oh Tonks…" Hermione trailed off with a grin as Tonks stepped out from behind the curtain.
Tonks laughed and spun around to give Hermione a better look. Tonks was wearing a full length, bright turquoise gown. She had an amber gemstone belt that fastened low on her waist and a matching amber studded headband that secured her long, now-turquoise hair. But it was her sleeves that made Hermione smile. They were tight at the top with purple bands at the elbow, but tapered down into an enormous bell shape that fell to her ankles. They looked like they could engulf half the wedding party. Hermione was surprised she didn't trip on them.
"Well, what do you think? Pretty chic for a wedding gown, huh?" Tonks asked with another twirl.
"The dress is certainly…different."
"Different is good," Tonk nodded.
"Different is good," Hermione repeated with a laugh, curiously patting Tonks' straight turquoise locks.
"Oh this is going to be so much fun!" Tonks said, bouncing up and down.
As the dress fluttered around her feet, Hermione noticed she was barefoot.
"Tonks, where are your shoes?" Hermione asked shaking her head.
"I'm not wearing any." Tonks held out her foot, wiggling her toes. "And neither are you."
"What!" Hermione exclaimed, pulling up her own dress and eyeing her bare feet. "You must be joking."
"I'm not joking. We Celtic-ians don't joke about our footwear."
"They're not called 'Celticians,' and I'm sure they wore shoes to their weddings."
"Not today they don't." Tonks twirled, flinging her billowing sleeves about her as she spun. "Let's go!" Tonks commanded as she skipped down the hall. "Follow my sleeves. They'll show us the way!"
Despite her endless annoyance at the eager-bride-to-be, Hermione had to smile. Somehow, the fact that Tonks was making her traipse around with bare feet and wild hair struck her as strangely funny. She could only imagine what fashion horrors Tonks had inflicted on the groomsmen. Hermione took a little comfort in the thought that she and Tonks wouldn't be the only ones who'd stand out.
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They hurried in the direction of the formal drawing room. It was serving as the impromptu chapel and the house-elves had spent the entire morning conjuring up the decorations. They had removed all the furniture and arranged dozens of chairs in several rows. A trail of red rose petals served as an aisle and a gardenia-covered arch marked the altar. The wall behind the altar had been spelled translucent, and the snow-covered seashore and its misty cliffs provided a wintry background to the ceremony. Small crystals and candles floated freely above the guests, casting ripples of light around the room while fragrant red rose petals materialized out of thin air and slowly cascaded to the floor.
Hermione peeked around the drawing room door and surveyed the guests. Several local acquaintances of Lupin were in attendance, as well as dozens of family friends of Mr. and Mrs. Tonks. The wizard performing the ceremony was standing behind the altar, and next to him was Lupin talking to Harry and Ron. They were all wearing simple black waistcoats and, more importantly, their shoes.
"Tonks," Hermione hissed. "Why are the men wearing suits?"
Tonks looked at her, puzzled. "Why wouldn't they wear suits? It's a formal occasion Mione. They can't wear their everyday cloaks."
Hermione groaned. "But what happened to being 'Celtic' and authentic and wearing costumes and no shoes? You do realize that we'll be the only people with bare feet, don't you?"
Tonks rolled her eyes. "Do you want me to tell Remus to take off his shoes? Because I will. I'll have to see him before the ceremony of course, which could doom my marriage to failure, but if it will make you happy, so be it. I'll just go ahead and make arrangements for the annulment right now. You wouldn't happen to be a clerk of the court would you?"
Hermione closed her eyes and rubbed her head, grumbling a few unkind things under her breath. She suddenly wished she had a bottle of Reasonable Reasoning Solution. Or maybe just the bottle. That way she could hit Tonks over the head with it.
"Hush you two," Tonks' father shushed them both as someone began to play a wedding march on the piano.
"Yeah Mione. Hush," Tonks echoed, taking a bundle of red roses from a house-elf.
"I wasn't…hey…!" Hermione exclaimed as felt someone shove bouquet of calla lilies into her hands and somebody else shoved her into the drawing room.
She stumbled a bit but quickly regained her balance, smiling nervously as she carefully began walking down the length of the aisle in time to the music. The roomful of strangers turned and looked on as she tried to walk as gracefully as she could. Hermione suddenly felt terribly self-conscious in her Celtic getup and she began wringing her bouquet until her knuckles were white. At the end of the aisle, Lupin gave her an encouraging smile, and Hermione nodded back, grateful to see a familiar face. Harry stood next to him, and her eyes inadvertently fell to him as he stood stoically against the peaceful winter landscape.
She had to admit, Harry struck an extraordinary figure in front of the snowy haze, and her breath caught in her throat as that overwhelming, unnamable Thing began building up inside her again.
Against her better judgment, she found herself admiring his incredibly handsome features: his untamable raven hair, his chiseled cheek bones, his broad shoulders, and his piercing green eyes. With all the wedding preparations, she hadn't had much time to contemplate the mistake she'd made in regards to his character, but somehow, knowing of his decency made him seem all the more striking.
As she approached the holly covered arch, it suddenly occurred to her that this is what their own wedding would've been like (minus the insane 'Celtic' theme): Harry standing at the altar, watching her through a shower of rose petals and candlelight. A blush rose in her cheeks at the thought of being his bride, of walking down the aisle and saying "I do." Hermione could easily picture him sweeping her up and cradling her against his chest as he kissed her senseless. She imagined how he'd grip the back of her neck and encourage her hands to rove over him as he captured her mouth for a long, slow, torturous kiss that would begin softly and quickly become too heated to continue in public…
Hermione shook herself out of her fantasy as she began to feel a familiar blush creeping upon her cheeks.
She waited for the usual stream of sputtering indignation and denial, but instead she felt a strange wave of warmth and delight wash over her. She thought she heard a balloon burst or a champagne cork popping, except that it was softer and sweeter, as though the noise was folded inside one of the calla lilies she was holding.
All she knew was that time seemed to stand still as the strange, mysterious Thing building inside her suddenly revealed itself:
She found that she didn't want anyone else besides
Harry Potter waiting for her at the end of that aisle.
Hermione's eyes widened and she nearly stumbled on her train. Thoroughly embarrassed, surprised, speechless and light-headed, she swallowed hard and offered a concerned-looking Harry a warm smile, or as warm a smile as she could muster. Suddenly the simple act of remaining upright became incredibly difficult as she realized that somehow, somewhere, she had fallen in love with him.
How could…? Wait…no…this can't be…she trailed off, stealing a glance at Harry. The room began to spin and her breath came quickly as the realization hit her. And although the drawing room of Godric's Hollow in the middle of a barefoot wedding march wasn't the ideal place to acknowledge it, it seemed she didn't have much choice in the matter.
He's…well…Oh for goodness sake's he's Harry Potter! I hardly know him. All right, perhaps
"hardly" isn't the right word anymore. I don't know him as well as, um… as well as I should know him.
Especially not well enough to feel this way about him. All I know is that he's wonderful and handsome and
absolutely…perfect. But that doesn't matter at all because he's just…perfect …but still…
Oh this is ridiculous. I'm not in love with him. I'm…um…really… not in love with him. It's just the wedding and the roses and the candlelight and his eyes and his shoulders and his smile and… his…lips…
NO! Stop it Hermione Jean Granger! You are not to think about Harry like that. He's absolutely…completely…unacceptably…perfect.
Oh sod it Hermione. Just walk. And don't you dare faint… she told herself sternly.
Hermione was sure that Harry had noticed the change in her; that she'd somehow given herself away with the look of panic and absolute adoration in her eyes. To her relief, Harry's concerned expression remained unchanged as he gazed back at her. She kept a frozen smile on her face but made sure to keep her eyes fixed on her lilies as she took her place across the aisle from him.
She could feel his eyes still on her, but she refused to look at him. Being this close to him was hard enough without the added torture of reveling in his handsome features. Being this close to him was hard enough, period.
Hermione took a deep breath and urged herself to concentrate on the ceremony. It was Tonks' wedding for goodness sake and Hermione refused to ruin it by dissolving into a pathetic puddle at Harry's feet….
…which is easier said than done…she muttered, stealing a glance at Harry.
As the bridal song began, Hermione swallowed hard and tried to focus only on Tonks, who looked as radiant and colorful as a tropical bird. There were several "oohs" and "ahhs" as she proceeded down the aisle alongside her father. Lupin gave Tonks an approving nod and Tonks winked back as she took her place beside him. She handed Hermione her bouquet of red roses and the two girls shared a smile before Tonks slipped her hands into Lupin's.
The wizard began the ceremony, reading aloud the ancient verses about everlasting devotion in his refined drawl. Hermione found herself wiping away a few tears as Tonks and Lupin recited their marriage vows.
"Do you, Remus John Lupin, take Nymphadora Nightingale Tonks…"
"Nightingale?" Ron blurted out with a laugh.
"Oh shut it Ron," Tonks hissed as everyone in the audience tried to hide their smiles. Even Lupin grinned as he patted his bride on the shoulder and signaled for the wizard to start again.
The wizard cleared his throat and continued. "Do you Remus John Lupin take Nymphadora…er…Tonks to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold in from this day forward, for better, for worse, in sickness or in health, to love and to cherish 'till death do you part?"
"I do."
"And do you Nymphadora Tonks take Remus John Lupin…."
Hermione sniffled and brushed away a tear as the wizard went on. Although she was happy that Tonks had found someone she could share such a special love with, Hermione couldn't help but think it odd that these two were vowing "to have and to hold" each other until death.
They've only known each other a month or so, she muttered. And their characters are so… different. How can they possibly know what the next forty years will bring?
…Of course, just because they've only known each other a short time doesn't mean they can't be happy. And perhaps their characters aren't as different as they seem…
She frowned, realizing it wasn't only Tonks and Lupin she was thinking about. Maybe there was something in this whole "simply trust in your heart instead of your head" idea. Hermione reflected on what had happened with Tonks, who hadn't thought twice about accepting Lupin, who was now here, marrying her beloved, brimming over with happiness, while Hermione had to content herself with watching Harry from across the aisle.
She shook herself out of her thoughts and looked on as Lupin and Tonks exchanged rings. The next thing Hermione knew, the wizard was telling Lupin to hurry up and kiss his new wife. Tonks leapt into his arms and they shared a long kiss as everyone around them cheered.
She laughed as Lupin twirled Tonks around in his arms before setting her on the ground. Hermione hugged Tonks and handed her back the bridal bouquet. The bride and groom went arm in arm down the aisle as music played, but they didn't get far before a dozen people came forward to congratulate them. The room was a noisy, joyous mess. The piano played a happy tune as Lupin and Tonks eventually disappeared in the group of well-wishers. The crowds filed out of the drawing room, taking their merrymaking and singing and cheering with them.
Though Hermione's attention was still on the happy couple, she couldn't help but notice Harry as he came to stand next to her.
He cleared his throat and Hermione turned to him with a shy smile. She was still overwhelmed by her earlier realization and didn't trust her voice, or anything else that involved cognitive thought.
"Hello Harry," Hermione murmured with down-cast eyes. Lovely ceremony, wasn't it? I'm not wearing any shoes. Oh, and I've fallen in love with you. Now if you don't mind, I'd really like to kiss you…and for you to kiss me back because, wow, you're good at it…
Harry, never very adept at Legilimency, was oblivious to her struggle.
"Hello Hermione," Harry greeted her quietly. He handed her a handkerchief and she nodded gratefully as she dabbed at her eyes.
"I don't usually cry at weddings," she said shyly.
"Well, you're making up for it now," he replied with a half-smile.
"I know," she chuckled as she gave him back the handkerchief. "I'm an awful mess, aren't I?"
"No," he said softly as he gently cupped her cheek and wiped away a few stray tears with his thumb. "You look beautiful."
Hermione shivered as his hand stroked her cheek. She suddenly craved his touch so badly it scared her. Everything about him scared her. Everything she felt scared her. The worst part was that she didn't know what to do about it. This wasn't a problem she could figure out by holing herself up in a library….
Lost in her thoughts, Hermione absently rubbed her cheek against his hand, which did nothing to help her appear like normal, rational, not-in-love witch. But with the ceremony, his proximity, her sudden feelings for him, it was almost too much for her to bear. She suddenly didn't care that there were dozens of rowdy party-goers ten feet away; she didn't care that she was violating all manner of propriety; she didn't care that her sensibly sober side was screaming at her to stop. She wanted him to keep touching her. She wanted it in a way that challenged the limits of an English woman's restraint.
Hermione closed her eyes, enjoying the simple, uncomplicated feel of his fingertips against her cheek. As her tears fell, he wiped them away wordlessly. Neither noticed when her bouquet of lilies slipped out of her hand and fell to the floor.
A sigh rippled through her as she felt his thumb brush against her bottom lip. She gave an approving moan, and Harry's hand froze.
"Don't stop Harry," she said softly. Her eyes languidly opened and met his.
Harry's face remained expressionless as he acquiesced. His thumb ran softly over her cheek and down across her lips again. Her lashes were lowered prettily, but there was no mistaking her expression as she nuzzled his hand.
"We'd better get going," Harry announced with a strained voice as he stepped away.
"Wh-what?" Hermione murmured, emerging from her Harry-induced haze.
"To the reception. We'd better get going," Harry answered without looking at her. He offered his hand and quickly led her in the direction of the foyer where the rest of the congregation awaited.
Shaken, Hermione choked back her sob as she allowed Harry to pull her out into the hallway. Oh Goddess what have I done? Throwing myself at the man…what was I thinking…oh I'm so sorry Harry…
He held tightly to her hand as they worked their way through the crowded hallway where everyone had gathered around to hear Lupin's announcement. Lupin was standing on the stairwell with his arm around Tonks, trying to organize the wedding party. Champagne bottles were popping, and dozens of glasses were being passed around.
"Oh, look, there they are," Lupin laughed jovially and pointed at Harry and Hermione. "Best man, maid of honor, get up here. You're not off the hook yet."
Without looking at Harry, Hermione miserably shook off his hand and took her place next to the bride on the stairs.
Tonks offered her a glass of champagne, and even though Hermione wasn't much of a drinker, she downed it in one
gulp, hoping to numb her dry ache of disappointment. The glass was charmed to magically refill itself, and Hermione
drank the second one even faster.
Did I honestly think he'd forget everything that's happened and sweep me up in his arms just because I've suddenly changed my mind about him?
Hermione couldn't help but answer with a sad "yes" and punctuate it with a hiccup.
"Hold on there Mione. Pace yourself," Tonks scolded her, taking away the champagne flute. "That's what the reception's for. Carousing and such. Otherwise you're no better than Ron." Tonks flapped her sleeves at the redhead who was downing champagne like it was in danger of disappearing.
Hermione nodded dizzily, brushing back her hair and leaning against the banister as the room began to spin. She didn't know how she was going to get through the reception without melting into a pitiable puddle on the floor.
Oblivious to her plight, Tonks began shaking her arm and hopping in place. "I can't wait," Tonks said in an excited voice. "The reception's at a banquet hall in Pemberly. Sir Sirius made all the arrangements himself. You should see the cake. It's taller than Remus!"
Hermione offered her a shaky smile and shrugged out of her grasp. "Sounds wonderful."
"And then I'm going to throw these flowers [Tonks held up her bouquet of roses] at some poor unsuspecting soul. Ha ha! To think I actually get to hurl this lot at someone and no one's going to yell at me for it!" Tonks laughed maniacally. "You watch. I'm going to throw them at Ron's head. Maybe some overeager single girls will tackle him."
Hermione smiled. Tonks always could cheer her up. Maybe the reception wouldn't be so bad after all….
"Or maybe I'll just throw them to you." Tonks grinned. "Is there anyone you have a mind to marry? Besides old green eyes over there, that is." Tonks said teasingly, poking at her.
…Or maybe the reception will be a waking nightmare…Hermione's smile faded as she reached for the champagne flute and down it once more. Hermione thought if she drank herself into a coma, Tonks would let her skip the horrible, sodding, useless reception….
"All right everyone," Lupin's voice rang out over the crowd. "Tonks and I have an announcement about the reception. We'll be handing out the incantation spell for the carriages soon. Now just say the words and the carriages will do the work. And folks, please, no foolishness…."
He was interrupted by Hermione's sharp hiccup.
"Sorry Remus," Hermione said in a shy, loopy voice. She smiled at him and hiccupped again.
Lupin eyed her wearily. "Anyway…as I was saying, please no foolishness. It's a very simple spell. If you're having trouble with it, let somebody else do it. It's my wedding night and I don't feel like organizing a search party." At the mention of their wedding night, Tonks whispered something in his ear, causing his face to flush.
The guests meanwhile shouted their assent and followed the bride and groom out the front door and onto the walkway. Tonks led the way, pulling her along until Hermione realized the ground under her feet was freezing.
"Tonks!" Hermione eeked. Her bare feet were smarting from the ice-covered ground. "Let go of me. I'm not wearing any shoes."
Tonks grinned. "Oh yeah. I forgot. Here, watch me." With that, Tonks jumped into Lupin's arms and laughed as he kissed her cheek. She smiled down at Hermione from her new cozy perch and adopted a tone better suited for calling a cocker spaniel: "Ok, you're turn. Now jump, come on girl. Jump. Up you go. You can do it. Jump!"
Hermione rolled her eyes and shifted from one foot to the other. "Thanks, but I don't think Remus has room for me."
Hermione felt someone tap her on the shoulder and turned.
"Hello Hermione," a thoroughly-soused Ron grinned at her. He was swaying back and forth, trying to keep upright.
"Hello Ron," she said, irritated. Her feet were going to turn to ice if she didn't get inside soon.
"Would you please hold this for me?" Ron burped and handed her his half-empty glass of champagne.
"Fine but…oh!" she cried as Ron lifted her up and flung her over his shoulder.
"I've got you Hermione," Ron said in a sing-song voice as he unsteadily followed Lupin to the awaiting carriage. She pushed on his shoulder, trying to get away.
"Ron, put me down," she demanded. His wobbly jaunt was making her giddy and nauseous.
"Ok," he said merrily, "but it's a long way back to the house."
"It's a long way to the ground," she grunted, still struggling.
He pooh-poohed her questioning of his manly mightiness and continued on.
"Honestly Ron," she grumbled. Hermione squirmed until she was back on solid ground. She tossed his champagne flute to him over her shoulder before trotting off. Ron stumbled as he caught it, but soon enough was headed towards Lupin's carriage, happily humming a Quidditch fight song.
"Your loss," Ron called behind him.
Cursing the stupidity that was Ron, Hermione ran towards the house as quickly as she could. Ridiculous drunk Ron…ridiculous Celtic wedding …at least pirates wear boots. Shivering and rubbing her arms, she could see her ragged breath against the night sky, which somehow made it seem even colder.
She had to fight her way through the lingering crowd by the front door. Everyone was waiting to get the incantation from the servants, creating a bit of a jam on the walkway.
"Excuse me…. Pardon…. Pardon me… Excuse me…*hiccup*…Pardon," Hermione bustled through the crowd.
She gave a frustrated groan. At this rate, she'd have frostbite before she even got close to the house. She felt somebody tap her on her shoulder, but this time she didn't bother turning around.
"I don't want you to c-c-carry me R-Ron," she said angrily between her chattering teeth, kicking away the frost on her toe.
She heard Harry mutter something about "can't blame you for that."
Startled, Hermione spun on her frozen heel to face him. She then put her hand to her head, immediately regretting her sudden spinning.
They stared at each other without speaking as Hermione steadied herself. Neither paid any mind to the swarm of passing guests who jostled and bumped them.
"Are you cold?" Harry asked, finally breaking the silence.
Hermione nodded. Her teeth were chattering too hard for her to speak. He seemed concerned, although it was almost impossible to tell what the man was thinking, even when she was sober.
Harry slipped out of his waistcoat and draped it over her shoulders. He rubbed her arms to warm her up. "There now," he smiled nervously. "Is that better?"
"No Harry. You need your coat. You'll catch a c-c-cold," she managed.
"Better a cold than frostbite," he replied. "Speaking of which…" he took a step towards her, caught her under her knees and picked her up.
"Harry! Put me down!" Hermione yelped as she flailed a bit, embarrassed as the other guests began to stare at them.
Harry pretended to think about it. "Nope. Not going to do it. Now stop kicking me," he said with a likeable grin.
"I didn't kick you," she grumbled, suppressing a smile of her own. She had to admit, he was fairly irresistible when he grinned at her like that. She slipped into his dress coat and wrapped her arms around herself, trying to stay warm.
"Now, where shall I take you?" Harry asked gallantly.
Hermione snuggled against the hard planes of his chest and took moment to simply enjoy the delicious feel of him against her. She couldn't suss out why he was doing this. Pity maybe. Or maybe it was just his noble nature. Whatever the reason, she found she really didn't care as long as she got to stay in his arms.
"I've been trying to get back inside," she said quietly against his shoulder. Of its own violation, her hand began to lazily trace the outline of his black vest as she settled in his arms. Despite her earlier urgency, she wasn't in such a terrible hurry now. She knew she could happily stay like this for quite some time.
Harry nodded agreeably and carried her through the crowds. Most of the partygoers had been bundled into the enchanted carriages that were now floating towards downtown Pemberley.
"Hey you two!" Tonks called from her passing carriage.
"Hello there," Harry called back. From his casual tone no one would ever think he was carrying a young witch in his arms. Hermione meekly waved at Tonks, who waved back as though nothing were amiss.
"Thank goodness she has a one-track mind," Hermione mumbled, breathing a sigh of relief.
"Come on you two, get in!" Tonks yelled. "Hurry! This train's leaving the station!"
Ron appeared in the window beside her, shaking his refilled champagne glass and making train noises. "Come guys. Whoot Whoot! Run! Whooooot!"
"Send a carriage back for us. We'll catch up." Harry shouted over his shoulder as he turned back to the house.
"You're darn right you'll catch up!" Tonks yelled. "You're supposed to be at my beck and call. And now I'm becking and calling at the same time. So chop chop."
Hermione sighed as Tonks and the carriage disappeared around a bend. Hermione shook her head, wondering exactly when her tenure as maid of honor would officially end. That way, she could Silencio Tonks without violating her sacred duties.
Harry proceeded into the house and closed the front door behind him with his foot. He gently lowered her to the ground and helped her out of his waistcoat.
"You know," he said slowly as he put it back on, "the fireplace is still lit. If you'd like to warm up first, that is. Or talk."
Hermione stole a glance at him and stifled a resigned sigh. Champagne or no, she knew that any sort of "talk" boded ill for her. She thought they should just as soon get it over with as not. At least this way, when he told her he didn't love her anymore, she could join Ron Weasley in drinking herself into oblivion at the reception.
Hermione sadly nodded and followed him into the drawing-room-turned-chapel.
The wall was still transparent, and Hermione could see fresh snow falling on the distant cliffs. The servants had already taken down the altar and de-spelled the candles and floating crystals (lest some guest try and take a souvenir). The chairs were gone, and most of the original furniture had been moved back in. A cork popping in the kitchen told them that the house-elves were busy celebrating on their own, and a lack of rowdy celebrating assured them that the last of the guests had shuffled off for the reception.
Hermione settled herself on an overstuffed couch facing the fireplace and Harry took a seat next to her. Ignoring Harry's closeness, Hermione made herself comfortable and hitched up her dress a bit, stretching out her toes towards the fire. Harry had already seen her bare feet (as had half the population of Pemberley) so she wasn't as self-conscious as she should have been. The chill she felt was replaced by a new nervousness and she began playing with the material of her skirt as silence slowly descended on the room. Try as she may, she couldn't force herself to relax, even with the warmth of the fire and the softness of the sinking cushions and the bubbly-sleepy feeling in her head.
"Still cold?" Harry suddenly whispered in her ear.
Hermione jumped. She hadn't realized Harry was sitting so close to her. Refusing to look at him, she could feel his breath on her shoulder as she slowly shook her head. She could make out the muscles on his arm flexing against hers as she uncomfortably shifted in her seat.
Oh…um…his arm is… strong…and…goodness what was I thinking? There's no way the reception could be any worse than this…
Hermione dizzily wondered when the carriages would return for them. She asked Harry, but he didn't seem the least concerned. There was a long pause before answered.
"Are you really that eager to get there?" he replied quietly.
"Um…no. Not really," Hermione said softly, turning to him, still wringing her skirt in her hands.
"Do you mean that?" Harry asked, searching her eyes.
Hermione nodded and smiled shyly. "I'm sure the reception will be wonderful, but it's…nice here too."
Harry seemed pleased by the compliment. "Really? You like the house."
"Of course I like the house," Hermione said sincerely. "I couldn't imagine a better place for a wedding than Godric's Hollow. It's lovely and has a rare charm to it." She lowered her voice and leaned closer to him. "But I must say it doesn't seem like you at all."
Harry cocked an eyebrow and smiled. "So I'm not lovely and charming?"
Hermione shook her head. "No Harry. I think you're charming," she blurted out. She mentally smacked herself in the forehead when he gave her an "oh really?" grin. Right there, she vowed to keep all future champagne-fueled conversations between herself and an equally inebriated Ron Weasley.
"I mean you're charming…" she hastily explained "….sometimes…that is…"
"At state funerals and graduations and such." Harry finished for her with a smile.
Hermione shook her head, "No…but… what I meant to say," Hermione corrected herself, "is that I don't see much of your personality in it. The house just doesn't seem like the sort of place you'd live in. It's just an impression I got is all…" she trailed off. And I'm never drinking again. So there.
Harry seemed to consider the point. "Well, I was born here, so I'm afraid I couldn't tell you what sort of first impression it gives. I'm told my mother did a lot to it before she died. I was too young to remember what it looked like before though. But I don't spend much time here. I'm usually in London."
Hermione nodded and they fell back into silence. She gazed into the fireplace but Harry's eyes stay on her. The champagne was still making her dizzy, and Harry was absolutely not helping with his stubborn nearness. He, on the other hand, seemed perfectly at ease, his eyes drifting between her and the fireplace.
How can the man just be sitting there like…like…everything's completely and utterly normal? Well fine. Two can play that game…Oh wait. No they can't. Because my brain's absolutely useless when it comes to all-things-Harry.
Hermione was growing more nervous and uncomfortable by the second. As the minutes ticked by she began curing whoever invented carriage incantations. Finding she couldn't take the suspense any longer, she mustered up her courage and turned to Harry.
"So Harry, you wanted to…um…talk?"
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