You Raise Me Up

Oh my. It has been way too long...and I am sooooooooooooooo sorry. Don't kill me. Just getting over that sickness was hard enough. Now I have a plot monkey (that has nothing to do with this story) on my back. I'm torn between wanting to start that one and finishing this one. I hate leaving stuff undone. I also think that I might start putting a little more time between chapters. A chapter a day was getting a bit demanding, and I have school to think of. Don't worry, though! I promise it won't be a week or anything. Just maybe two days instead. That will give me time to work on it and make it good, instead of just throwing down whatever jumps into my head.

Thank you all for the reviews thus far! Now, for your enjoyment!!
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The day of the wedding did not come soon enough for Hermione. It seemed that she had been helping to plan this for ages, and it seemed almost surreal as she was helped into her wedding dress. The dress itself was quite lovely. It was an old-fashioned dress, but tastefully so. The bodice of the dress was fitted and snug, nipping in at her waist and showing just enough cleavage to have Draco wanting more. The neckline was a deep round, with lace starting low and her cleavage, and slowly letting out to form a high lace collar. The sleeves hugged her arms firmly down to her elbows, where gathered peasant sleeves then flared out. The skirt was full and heavy, with lots of gathered material to fill it out. Her shoes were dazzling white ankle-boots, old fashioned with lace-up ties. She had also donned short white gloves.

Her veil wasn’t a full-face veil. Instead, it was a tastefully full piece of sheer material attached to the back of a crown of white heath asters. She carried a bouquet of white roses to complete the ensemble. She had inquired to Narcissa why she had to wear white, and Narcissa had told her it was to keep up images (no one else knew she was pregnant, after all).

She had asked Arthur if he would give her away in the absence of her father, and he had accepted readily. She had then asked Ginny if she would be her maid of honor, and the younger girl had cried for almost an hour, and then told Hermione that she would be honored. To all parties involved, the biggest surprise came when Draco asked Harry Potter to be his best man. The word on the street was that he would surely ask Blaise Zabini, or one of his old Slytherin buddies, but all rumors were squashed when the Boy Who Lived to Defeat became best man for the wedding of the century.

Hermione paced nervously in her dressing room, pausing momentarily when Narcissa finished with Ginny’s makeup, and smiling at the lovely red-head.

Ginny smiled back. “You look so beautiful, Mione.” She said, admiring the old-fashioned dress. Hermione blushed.
“I don’t know…” she said, and Narcissa clicked her tongue.

“Of course you look lovely, my dear! I didn’t spend three hours on your makeup and that Medusa hair of yours for you to doubt yourself…” she scolded, and then smiled. “You look like a princess.” She said. Hermione’s blush deepened.

A knock on the door pulled their attention from their beauty. “Oi! It’s about time for the bridesmaids to walk.” Said Harry’s voice from behind the door.

Hermione had thought carefully about who she had wanted as her bridesmaids. The three she had chosen were: Luna Lovegood, and Parvati and Padma Patil. The girls were dressed in a separate room, leaving the bride and maid of honor in a room to themselves. Hermione nearly squealed with joy when Molly herself knocked the next time, signaling Hermione and Ginny to get into their spots in the procession.

When Hermione finally began her march down the aisle, she was near tears with joy and anticipation. When she first caught sight of Draco in the temple, she felt weak at the knees. In co-ordinance with the theme of Hermione’s dress, Draco’s robes were slightly old-fashioned looking. He was wearing a double breasted coat with button stand, a notch collar, buttoned cuffs, and tails. The straight cut across the front of the coat, just at his hips, gave it that truly old look. The coat was a deep green color, Slytherin of course, with large ornate silver buttons. Beneath his coat was an old-fashioned stand collar waistcoat, made of silver satin. He also wore a crisp white shirt beneath that. His hair was worn loose around his face, framing it like a white-gold halo. He had on snug black trousers that tucked into shiny knee-length boots. He was like an orgasm on legs. Hermione took her place next to her very-soon-to-be-husband.

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“By the power given to me by the Magic of Old, and by the Ministry of Magic, I now pronounce you man and wife. Seal your vows with a kiss.” Said the old priest.

Draco didn’t need to be told twice, and leaned down to press his lips on top of Hermione’s firmly, sealing the eternal bond of magic between them. There was a swirl of gold around their feet as the power of old encased them in a shimmering whirlwind. When the whirlwind faded above their heads, the rings that they had placed on each other’s hands glowed white, and then settled back into their original platinum.

Bells rang overhead as they walked back down the aisle together, hand in hand, heading for the carriage that would take them back to the manor to perform the consummation ceremony. Draco couldn’t take his eyes off of Hermione’s face as they walked back down the aisle to exit the temple. Hermione looked up at him, and then back down, her face pink with delight. When she looked back towards the exit, however, something strange caught her sight.

“Draco? Why are the doors closing?” she asked. Draco’s head snapped towards the doors, which were indeed shutting, as if on their own accord.

Some people in the temple were murmuring as the large heavy doors swung shut. Draco stopped when then reached the doors.

“What’s the meaning of this?” he asked, trying to push the door. He discovered with a strange growing dread that it would not move.

“Not a very smart idea to make the wedding public.” A strangely familiar high-pitched voice said. People began to look around and murmur nervously, and Draco and Hermione turned back towards the front of the temple.

A silvery specter appeared right at the altar, and several people screamed. The ghost of the Dark Lord laughed mirthlessly when several people, in their panic, almost knocked Draco and Hermione over trying to get to the door. Hermione’s bouquet was knocked from her hand, and trampled. There was a growing panic when the doors couldn’t be opened.

“Did you think I had been dormant these months?” Voldemort said, his glowing red eyes turning to where Harry stood. “Oh no…I’ve been planning. Plotting…my revenge is nigh. You may have taken my elite circle, but you never caught my underlings. Those who hadn’t taken the Mark yet. They were safe. My numbers have grown. But enough telling you. Let me show you…” he said. “Step forward, my servants, and stand by your Master.” He said, his high voice loud.

Several of the ‘panicked’ attendants stepped from the door. Harry watched in horror as a good fifth of the attendees flocked behind the spirit. Harry stood.

“Dammit! Why can’t you just leave everyone the fuck alone!” he cried. Voldemort raised his transparent hand, and one of the followers cast a spell. Harry’s quick reflexes deflected it.

“The Boy Who Wouldn’t Fucking Die….” Voldemort hissed.

“The Man Who Couldn’t Kill A Fucking Baby…” Harry snapped back, deflecting another spell. Several Aurors stepped forward, as members of the congregation. They drew their wands. Others stopped their desperate attempts at escape to draw their wands and stand beside Harry. Voldemort’s eyes turned to his old followers.

“Bella. Severus. Lucius.” He said, looking at them. “I shall forgive your lapse in judgement if you’ll stand with me today. I can guarantee your safety within my ranks.” He said, floating close to where Bellatrix sat, his ghostly hand outstretched.

All eyes fell on Bellatrix, who had cast down her head in an attempt not to be seen. She sat in a place between the two groups. She stood, and looked the ghost in the face. “I’ll join you…” she said softly.

“I knew it!” came a hiss in Harry’s side of the room. Percy stepped forward.

“Let me finish!” Bellatrix hissed. Percy stepped back.

“Indeed, Minister, let her finish.” Voldemort said, a triumphant look on his face.

She stepped out of her seat, and stood in the aisle. She looked quite a sight. She had worn a deep purple dress, cut to show off her belly without making the rest of her look fat. She rested a hand on her ballooned belly, her wand in her other hand.

“I’ll join you…when hell freezes over! Victory for the Boy Who Lived to Defeat!” she hissed, and quickly beat a trail to join Harry’s side of the room. Voldemort’s ghost looked flabbergasted. Had it not been such a serious situation, it would have looked comical. Harry stepped in front of Bellatrix, shielding her with his body.

“So, Voldie. Seems I have one of your most trusted followers. Whatcha gonna do now?” he asked, a smirk on his face. Voldemort recovered quickly, however, and sneered at the young man.

“I’ll tell you exactly what I’ll do you little swot.” He hissed. He turned his transparent body towards his new army, and raised his hands, looking slightly like the conductor of an orchestra.

“ATTACK!”
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Well if that don't beat a hog a-trottin'!

Oh my! Bellatrix put a damper on Voldie's party! I think that he would have truly thought that her of all people would come back to him. Well I say how do you like them apples, Voldie! Boo ya! In your snake-face! Naner naner na-ner.

*Clears throat* Hmm...sorry about that...just got a little excited.

BTW, do tell me what you think! I'm more than open to ideas and suggestions! Tell me if it was a good chapter! Tell me if it sucked harder than a whore in a dick factory! But most importantly, tell me something...