Muggle Marriage Law 51599

St mungos (June)

Things had returned to the norm. Draco returned to his sour self. He looked at her with scorn and made it a point to smirk at her when he was around her. Mr. Malfoy was his unbearable self. He had questioned her fertility, as if the reason a couple could not conceive was always the fault of the female.

She still volunteered at the hospital. With all of the Charity Ball preparations that the other hospital workers were busy with lately, she busied herself with entertaining the kids in the children’s wing.
It was mid June. She took a deep breath as the scent of roses filtered through the air. She had just come from the garden and the head gardener elf had smiled at her. He expertly cut and pruned the thorns off the stems of three rosebuds; red, white and yellow. She thanked him as he bowed to her before he returned to his cleaning duties.

She smiled as she headed towards the library in their wing. She opened the door not expecting to find anyone within her sanctuary.

“Get out of here!” the young wizard said enraged as he watched his startled wife drop the contents that she had in her hands.

“I didn’t know anyone would be in here,” she said softly.

“Just get the fuck out! I’m working in here,” he said narrowing his eyes at her.

“I’m sorry,” she said weakly, leaving the library as quickly as possible.

Draco’s companion watched the rage filled tirade of one of his best friends. He walked over to the door and shut it. He uttered a locking spell and picked up the three buds. He breathed deeply. He smiled.
He looked back up at his old Slytherin housemate. “You know, you were a bit hard on her, Draco,” Gregory Goyle said as he brought the three flowers to the desktop, placing them in front of him.

“Look, Greg,” he looked at his friend. “You’re my attorney. I pay you good money. Let’s just get this done okay.”

His old friend smiled as he nodded his head. “Being married to a muggle-born isn’t all that bad,” the young attorney said speaking from experience. He looked through the set of legal papers in front of him. “Are you sure you really want this?”

Draco studied his friend’s face. He pulled the red rose up and breathed in, shutting his eyes in exasperation. Gregory just nodded.

* * *

Hermione sat with her legs folded under her as she turned the page of her muggle fairy tale. She breathed in as she got to the part where the creature agreed to allow the young woman to tend to her ailing father.

“Hermione,” the older witch said as the young woman quickly stood up, placing her book on the dresser.

“Mom,” she smiled, “I was just catching up on some reading.”

“Good book?” the older witch smiled.

“My mom and dad used to read this story to me growing up,” Hermione said, looking down as she remembered her parents.

Mrs. Malfoy put her arm around her daughter-in-law’s shoulder. “Hey, let’s go into Diagon Alley for some shopping, dear.”

Hermione looked up at her new mother-in-law. “Mom, I wouldn’t know what to shop for.”

“Well, Hermione, we can buy you new dress robes for tonight,” she smiled.

Hermione feigned ignorance of the hospital’s function. “Dress robes for what, Mom?”

“Oh, dear, Hermione,” Narcissa placed her index finger under the young witch’s chin, raising the shorter woman’s head. “For the St. Mungo’s Charity Ball here tonight.”

“I don’t,” Hermione paused, turning slightly flushed, “I don’t think I’m going to attend tonight.”

“Nonsense, Hermione.”

“Mom, I,” Hermione looked down, “I wasn’t invited.”

“I’m inviting you,” her mother said.

“Mom, I really don’t,” Hermione began, but quickly stopped.

“You’ll be my guest,” her mother looked at her smiling, as she led the young witch out of the bedroom.

* * *

They found themselves in a quaint little boutique that catered to the elite yet patronized by the less affluent as well. She was trying on her third set of dress robes in Lavender Brown’s robe shop. The robes hung to her, highlighting her every curve. It was a deep emerald color made of the finest silk.

“I think that looks positively amazing on her. What do you think, Mrs. Malfoy?” Lavender asked.

“I think that color definitely suits you, dear,” Mrs. Malfoy cupped Hermione’s chin.

“We also have some imported muggle fare if you would like to see them?” Lavender said as she moved towards the back of the shop. The two customers followed the shop owner to the very small section devoted to muggle clothing.

Hermione hid a small smile. Lavender looked over the fine muggle dresses in front of them and finally settled on one that was magnificent. A small smile even crept up on Mrs. Malfoy’s face.

“Here,” Lavender said placing the dress into Hermione’s hands. She pointed to a small changing room. “You can change in there.”

* * *

Hermione walked out of the changing room and held her breath. Mrs. Malfoy’s breath caught in her throat as her eyes grew wide, “Wow, Hermione.”

“You look beautiful, Hermione,” Lavender said breathlessly. “The deep red brings out the color of your eyes and highlights your dark brown hair. Don’t you agree, Mrs. Malfoy?”

“I certainly do,” Mrs. Malfoy said as she walked around the younger witch. “I think you should wear that one tonight. Lavender, we’ll take all four garments.”

“Wait, Mom,” Hermione said, grabbing a hold of her mother-in-law’s hand. “I . . . don’t need all four, Mom. I can’t . . .”

“Hermione, my treat,” she said as she squeezed the younger witch’s hand.

“I can’t accept . . .”

“Hermione,” the older witch interrupted, “I never had daughters. I’ve raised a son. And I don’t think Draco would look particularly good in a dress. It would probably give him a complex.”

The three women laughed. “Allow me to do this old eccentric motherly thing, hmm,” Mrs. Malfoy said as she nodded for Hermione to change out of the dress.

* * *

Hermione felt the excitement in the air. She had never actually gone to any of the previous St. Mungo’s Charity Balls that Mrs. Malfoy had hosted. It may have been the fact that it was always held here at Malfoy Manor and that she and Draco were enemies since they had first met. She smiled at the irony of her situation.

It was an hour before all of the dinner guests would show. She found herself entering the kitchen. She watched as the kitchen elves moved this way and that finishing last minute preparations to the fifteen hundred dinners they were preparing.

“Hey Krank,” she said stepping towards the head chef elf who looked a little haggard.

The small elf turned toward the young witch. His face quickly brightened. “What can we do you for, Mrs. Malfoy?”

Hermione smiled in spite of herself. “You seem a bit vexed, Krank. Is there anything I can do to help?”

Krank’s eyes grew larger. No wizard or witch had ever offered to help out in the kitchen before, much less any of Master Draco’s women.

It was true that the kitchen crew was shorthanded that night. Five of the sous chefs were sent to their quarters sick.

“Mrs. Malfoy,” Krank began.

“Krank, please,” the young witch stopped the head chef. “Call me Hermione. And I don’t mind helping out.”

Krank looked at her thoughtfully. He took in a breath, “Five of our cooks are out sick. Several of them were in charge of the soup course. We’ve got less than an hour to prepare the introductory course and I’m shorthanded.”

“Then it’s settled. Where are your aprons?” she said smiling.

“Ms. Hermione,” Krank began. “Hmm. Follow me.”

* * *

“There,” Hermione said as she stirred the concoction one last time before ladling some into several small ramekins for taste testing. Several of the sous chefs and Krank joined her in the tasting. All of them nodded approval. The sous chefs ladled themselves a second helping as Krank looked at Hermione grinning.

“That’s a winner, Missus,” Krank said. He turned to the others who were slurping up the last of their servings. “Okay, guys, save some for the guests.”

Hermione smiled to herself as she watched Krank and another chef elf start to ladle the first set of servings into bowls. She pulled off her apron and headed towards the back entrance of the kitchen. She bounded up the back stairs, the servant’s entrance to Draco’s wing.

She was running late. The guests would be there in another ten minutes. She still had to shower and get dressed.

* * *

She took in a deep breath and dusted herself off unnecessarily as she stood in the foyer outside of the Manor’s ballroom. She gulped as she saw her reflection in the glass of one of the trophy cases. The dark red backless calf-length garment accentuated her curves. She shut her eyes. ‘Just go back upstairs and forget about tonight,’ she thought to herself as she moved back towards the staircase.

She took another breath as she turned again to the ballroom. “You’ve never backed down from anything in your entire life, Hermione,” she told herself. She gulped again before holding her chin up as she made her way to the ballroom.

“Why start now?” she said under her breath as she entered the full ballroom.

It seemed as if everybody stopped eating to look at the new arrival. Hermione took another deep breath as she felt eyes on her. She moved gracefully in her three inch high heels that matched the color of her muggle dress perfectly. The thigh high slit on her right side exposed some of her leg as she walked towards her Mother-in-law who was waving for her to come to the head table where Mr. Malfoy, Draco, Dean Thomas, Ginny Weasley, Corey Reimers, and Celeste Profesi sat.

Dean, who sat in between Draco and Ginny, stood up to offer his seat to her. Hermione smiled, shook her head and nodded towards the empty seat in between Corey Reimers and Mr. Malfoy.

“I’m sorry I’m late, Mom,” she said as she kissed her mother-in-law in greeting.

“It’s fine, Hermione,” Mrs. Malfoy smiled and pointed to her seat. “You missed a most delectable soup course.”

Hermione smiled and then nodded to the other guests at the table before taking her seat. Draco’s breath hitched in his throat. He watched her smile beguilingly at his old housemate. He took a sip from his wine glass, as he could feel himself starting to color.

“It’s nice to see you again, Corey,” Hermione said politely to the former Slytherin. Corey looked her up and down, nodded at her politely and then returned her smile quite coyly.

She turned to face Draco. She took a deep breath as she tried not to notice Celeste stroking Draco’s backside. She smiled just as politely towards Draco. Draco nodded at her. She turned her attention back to Corey who seemed quite amused at Draco’s reaction which he caught in the corner of his eye.

* * *

The rest of the evening was like all the balls Hermione read about in her muggle fairy tales. Wizards and witches from all over England congregated to help the cause. The food was amazing; Krank’s crew really outdid themselves.

Dinner gave way to dancing. Dean Thomas was the first to ask his fellow Gryffindor to dance. Dean bowed to his old housemate. She smiled. She placed her hand in his and he nodded to her. They both laughed.
“You look beautiful, Hermione,” Dean said as he turned her on the dance floor.

“You don’t look too shabby, yourself, Dean,” she smiled back at him.

“You think she noticed?” the tall young half blood asked, hopeful.

“Just ask her to dance, already,” Hermione said smiling at her old friend.

“I don’t want Ginny to think I was pressing,” Dean said.

“Dean, you’re sweating,” Hermione said, as she wiped his brow with her fingertips. “Now go ask her or she’ll think we’ve got something going on.”

“You’re right. Besides, I wouldn’t want Draco going postal on me at work for flirting with his wife,” he smiled at his muggle humor.

Hermione playfully punched him in the upper arm. She nodded. Dean bid her thanks and left to find the red headed only daughter of the Weasley clan.

The dance floor filled up with the younger crowd. Draco watched as wizard after wizard had cut in to dance with his wife. His face, usually quite unreadable, looked amazingly, as if he wanted to kill somebody. His ears were burning as he watched one of the young wizards dare to allow his hand to stray past Hermione’s lower back.

Before Draco could move to curse the culprit, Hermione had diplomatically pulled his arm above Draco’s “safe zone.” Hermione smiled at the young man signaling for him not to do that again if he wanted to keep his fingers.

Draco watched the Slytherin their age smile at the young witch. He watched her hesitate before taking his hand again. Corey brought the witch’s body into his. Draco clenched his teeth before taking a breath. ‘Why should I care?’ he asked himself.

* * *

“So Ms. Granger,” he said pulling her into his body quite tightly, “or shall I call you Mrs. Malfoy?”

She had to take in a deep breath. He had held her so close that his chest pressed against hers. She looked up into the tall Slytherin’s hazel eyes. He wasn’t as tall as Draco. She had a feeling this dance wasn’t going to be very cordial. She actually hoped Draco would cut in at that moment.

“Hermione is fine, Corey,” she said taking light breaths, keeping her tone as neutral as possible.

He narrowed his eyes at her. “If it had been put up to a vote, I doubt you and Draco would have been the couple most likely to get married,” he said into her neck.

* * *

The platinum blonde Slytherin ran his fingers through his hair as he gritted his teeth, watching the couple look at each other. He clenched his fist but relaxed as he felt a hand run down the length of his back. He turned and smiled at the blonde witch.

He took her hand and led her to the dance floor. He nodded at his former lover, one with whom he had had relations up until three months of his wedding.

He had missed the fashion model. They had been Hogwarts sweethearts, the pair most likely to end up together, he thought with a smile. He closed his eyes, shutting out his predicament. He thought of life with Celeste Profesi, what should have been, as the music played.

* * *

Hermione looked at her old classmate. She took in a breath. “’Life will throw you a curve ball once in a while,’ my father used to say,” Hermione said as she tried to nonchalantly force her dance partner to loosen his grip.

“Interesting muggle saying,” he said into her ear. “You must be enjoying yourself as Draco’s new conquest.”

Hermione’s breath hitched in her chest. Reimers raised his eyebrows, “Are you that good in bed? Is that why he hasn’t come up with a way to get rid of you?” he said brushing her cheek with his finger.

“These are not questions,” she said gulping, “that any self respecting woman would answer.”

He eyed her as he turned her on the dance floor. He pulled her in close to his body again. “You’re a Mudblood, Granger. Always will be. No matter how much you ingratiate yourself with the Malfoy clan.

“How many of those wizards would you bet would pay Draco a chance to fuck you senseless?” he said nodding at the wizarding crowd on the dance floor.

Hermione stopped dancing. Her eyes began to water as his words rang in her ears. She took a breath. “Thank you for the dance, Mr. Reimers,” she made a move to leave.

Corey tightened his grip more. She winced. “Do you honestly think Draco is with you because he loves you? Did you actually believe he’d be true to this marriage, to a Mudblood? How many other witches do you think he’s been with since you two tied the knot, hmm?

“Frankly, I highly doubt he’d mind if I had a turn on you tonight,” Corey smirked, “Because you’re nothing more than a cunt.”

Hermione shut her eyes. With what little wiggle room she had in the dress, she was able to pull her knee up into his groin just as the music had died down. Applause infiltrated the ballroom as Mrs. Malfoy stood at the podium.

Corey breathed in deeply. He lost track of the brown haired witch. He huffed under his breath.

Draco himself lost track of his new wife. He would definitely take it up with her later that night, he told himself as he nodded at his dance partner. He took a glimpse in the direction of Corey Reimers and smirked.