Muggle Marriage Law 51599

Cap dream reprisal

Draco sat on the comfortable hotel bed as he finished reading the article on the much anticipated wedding that Saturday in the Daily Prophet. He sighed as he placed the paper on the nightstand. He had owled Dean that he more than likely would be back in London by the end of the next day.

With a wave of his wand, the room darkened. He turned on his side as he shut his eyes. He reached for the rope chain and touched the small cylindrical object that rested against his chest. His eyes fluttered as he gave way to sleep.

* * *

He turned the corner and immediately knew where he was. This time he heard the rain outside drop harder as he made his way to the Great Hall. He moved towards the balcony where he knew he would find them.

The brown haired witch caught the blonde witch in a tackle. They landed on the ground. Celeste pulled her wand out and aimed the cruciatus curse at her opponent. Hermione writhed in pain.

Celeste was inches from her former classmate’s face. “Now, Mudblood, you die,” she said putting the wooden stick under her chin.

Hermione looked up into her face. She shut her eyes. Then with no warning, she summoned what little strength she had left and brought her fist up and connected with the blonde haired witch’s nose, effectively breaking it.

“Bitch,” the injured witch wailed. She recovered quicker than the prone witch. She raised her wand and cursed her again with the second Unforgivable Curse.

Hermione wailed in agony. Her back arched and then slammed into the solid rock underneath her. She breathed hard, blinking back tears.

“Finite incantatum,” a deep voice yelled. Draco held his wand and aimed at his ex-wife. He then aimed it at his fiancée who narrowed her eyes at him. “Expelliarmus!”

The blonde witch was thrown into the low wall that protected any wayward bystanders from falling to their deaths. She slumped to the base of the wall unconscious. Draco rushed towards the brunette witch.

“Are you all right?” he asked as he kneeled in front of her.

She reared backwards into the wall. She looked at him with a hint of fear. She breathed hard. “Stay away from me,” she stammered.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Hermione,” he said as he reached out. He knew this was a dream, and that this Hermione only knew that the war was still going on.

“Why did you call me that?” she asked, her eyes growing wider as she took in a sharp breath.

“The effects of Cruciatus are quite lasting,” he said as he closed the distance between them. He took hold of her robes bringing her into his body. She couldn’t struggle out of his grip even if she wanted to. She was weak from the two doses of the painful curse. “I need to get you to Madame Pomfrey.”

“Why are you helping me?” she asked as she leaned against his chest.

He didn’t answer her. He didn’t know himself why he was helping her.

“Come on,” he said as he stood up about to bring her into his arms to carry her.

“I can walk on my own,” she said getting up and taking a step backward into the short wall. She looked into his eyes. She gulped as she realized they didn’t look as menacing as she remembered them to be in school.

“You have to get out of here, Draco,” she said looking at him. “They’ll catch you and throw you into Azkaban. Hogwarts isn’t a place for Deatheaters.”

“I’m not a Deatheater, Hermione,” his voice sounding defeated.

She looked at his exposed forearm. He looked down to see the serpent slither out of the skull. “Hermione,” he said reaching for her face, touching it gently.

Her eyes suddenly grew large. Was she frightened of him touching her so? He suddenly was pushed out of the way. Boy was she angry with him, he thought as he fell to the ground. He looked up to see her knees start to buckle as the blue-eyed witch re-cocked her arm ready to plunge the dagger into the brunette witch again. Draco moved quickly as he yelled the disarming spell, “Expelliarmus!”

Celeste backed into the wall, the dagger falling down the cliff. She quickly pulled her wand out and aimed it at him. “Traitor,” she yelled as the rain came down. Before she could utter the killing curse, he shouted another disarming spell. She lost her balance and fell over the wall. Draco breathed hard. He wasn’t concerned that his fiancée fell the hundred meters to the water and jagged rocks below.

He quickly went to the wounded witch’s side. He gathered her into his arms. With one hand, he applied pressure to the wound. He knew what kind of dagger the blonde witch had used, one whose inflicted wounds would never stop bleeding.

The dark haired witch trembled as she looked up into his grey eyes. He moved a strand of hair from her face. Her breathing was erratic.

“You have to get out of here, Draco,” she said taking in small short breaths. “They’ll throw you into Azkaban for sure, now.”

“I need to get you to Madame Pomfrey this very moment,” he said as he made a move to get up.

He stopped suddenly as she touched his face, leaving a streak of her blood on his pale cheek. She was already starting to feel cold. She was getting paler by the minute as her blood loss continued. “Please leave, Draco,” she cried softly. “You have to . . . let me go.”

“No,” he said as he wiped her cheek. He gulped. “Why did you do that? That dagger was meant for me.”

She couldn’t stop a sob from escaping her lips. “I couldn’t let you die, Draco.”

Her eyes fluttered. She took in one last breath. She looked up at him and then she said in a soft voice, “I love you.”

Blood spilled from the side of her mouth, as she lay limp. Draco’s eyes enlarged. “No! NO!” he screamed as he pulled her into his chest in an embrace. He looked up to the sky screaming, “Help me, somebody! Somebody help me!”

Draco shot up in bed, grabbing for his wand. He uttered the lighting spell, lumos. He looked at his palms as if he could still feel the thick red plasma on them from her wound. ‘It was just a dream,’ he thought to himself as his breathing started to stabilize.

“What the hell was that all about?” he had asked himself aloud as he laid back into the bed. He ran his hand through his hair as he noticed it read 5 am on his wristwatch.

“It’s almost over,” he told himself as he took hold of the gold band on the chain. He breathed as he shut his eyes again, trying to go back to sleep.

He smiled to himself as he saw her face. He saw her lovely smile. Her long hair framed her face. He looked deeply into her deep chocolate colored eyes. He sighed as he again fell asleep.

* * *

7 Hours earlier

Hermione kissed her daughter’s forehead. She tucked her into bed.

“You packed all your things for the camping trip with Grandma Celia?”

“Mhmm,” the little child nodded. “Uncle Jon helped me.”

Hermione nodded. “Good night, kiddo.”

“Mommy,” the sleepy two-year old began.

“Yes, kiddo,” the young mother asked as she pushed a strand of brown hair out of her daughter’s eyes that were getting droopier and droopier.

“Why do you and Daddy call each other by your last names?” the young girl asked yawning.

Hermione was taken aback for a moment. Then she recovered, gulping. “Honey, Mr. Malfoy isn’t,” she began to lie then stopped.

“Lois, you can’t call him Daddy to his face, okay,” the young mother looked scared.

The grey-eyed youngster studied her mother’s face as a tear rolled down the older witch’s cheek. “Okay,” the young girl hesitantly agreed.

“How did you know he was your daddy?” Hermione asked wiping the tear from her face.

“The picture in your drawer,” the young girl yawned again. “The one with everybody wearing ties and capes.”

“Robes, Kiddo,” Hermione nodded as she finally knew which picture to which her daughter was referring. The Hogwarts class picture that they had taken right before the graduation ceremonies. “Kiddo, there were like fifty of us in the picture.”

“He has the same eyes as me,” the girl said, as her eyelids grew heavy.

Hermione brought the young girl into her arms, hugging the perceptive youngster. She let herself cry silent tears. The youngster hardly noticed the tears drop on her shoulder as her mother rocked her to sleep. The young mother looked up to the ceiling wondering how this whole ordeal would play out.

* * *

Hermione finally walked out of her daughter’s room. She wiped her face and looked back as she turned off the light. She headed toward the kitchen.

“Hey,” Jon said as he prepared himself a sandwich. “You look like shit.”

“Thanks,” she said as she accepted the other sandwich that he had already made.

“So did you get to sign those papers?” he said taking a bite.

“We have to go in tomorrow morning,” she said looking into her friend’s face.

“Hey,” he said coming around to where she was standing. “Everything is going to turn out, you’ve gotta believe that.”

She nodded as they both finished their sandwiches quietly. She looked up at him again. She kissed him on the cheek.

“What was that for?” he asked smiling.

“For being a good friend,” she said as she walked toward her bedroom.

“Hey, Hermione,” he called after her. She paused and turned. “What’s a gay friend for if you can’t have him pretend he’s your husband?”

Hermione shook her head and smiled back at him before entering her bedroom. She was glad to have him as a friend.