Nicest Thing

A/N: I don't know how long this story is going to be, but I got this idea after listening to Kate Nash's 2007 album Made of Bricks. The summary sucks but oh well. This is also my first attempt at writing the characters when they're older adults - hopefully it's close to canon LOL. If not, then please forgive me and whack me over the head with a spoon!


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It was a lavish event of course as it wasn’t every day the Boy Who Lived, now the Boy Who Triumphed, married. People from around the world traveled to witness this spectacular event. Deep down, Hermione knew that Harry and Ginny really wanted a small secluded affair but once word got out, they had no other choice. Ginny really did look beautiful in her flowing white gown and Harry’s smile could’ve hid all the years of torment he was subjected to when he was younger. Now both grown, Harry and Ginny were meant to be. The large hall, enchanted to look like gardens, was filled with people. Only those closest to the pair sat in the front.

Hermione smiled when she crossed the hall, her hair piled up a top her head, carrying a bouquet of lilies, and wearing a light viridian gown that cut off just past her knees. A very pregnant Nymphadora Lupin walked ahead of her with matching green hair and a bright cheery smile. Luna was behind Hermione, but even she could tell the starry eyed girl was twirling about as they walked down the aisle. Her hair had grown extremely long in ringlets of dirty blond. She still wore her butter beer caps around her neck, although they looked shiny and clean.

Hermione’s eyes settled on the row of men standing beside Harry. Remus was a little rounder in the middle, but his complexion was nothing but reamed with health. The twins pretended to sob into each other’s chests and were scolded silently by Mrs. Weasley, who sat in the front, before dabbing her own eyes. Ron stood beside Harry, his flaming red hair shot up in a halo of spikes. He beamed when he saw the girls flounder down the aisle, but his gaze slipped past Hermione and landed on the girl behind her.

She felt a small pang in her chest but sucked it up as they rounded the bend and stood on the opposite side. She loved Ron more than she would ever admit. There was a time where she had tried to make her feelings known, but he had chose that moment to profess his love for her friend, their friend, Luna. What else could she have done? Everyone grew silent, even the twins, when Ginny arrived. Harry’s jaw dropped and Hermione was certain would have remained on the floor if Ron hadn’t nudged him. He stiffened but looked completely content and awestruck when she marched down the aisle with Arthur Weasley on her arm.

The wedding was spectacular and even Hermione found herself trying not to cry with happiness when the ribbons of their binding surrounded them in a blaze of glory. Harry pulled Ginny to him and kissed her with the utmost feeling of dedication and undying love. The crowd cheered and several cameras exploded with flashes of the happy couple.

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Hermione spent the rest of the evening rushing around the hall, trying to make sure everything was perfect. She had gotten into a spat with the wedding coordinator about displaying the large wedding cake that nearly towered over her five foot three frame. Not to mention she wanted to make sure everything incorporated a muggle touch, as Ginny was adamant on having such things. Harry didn’t mind, but Hermione had a feeling that he didn’t really care as long as he got Ginny in the end. His undying love for her was sweet, sickening sweet, but sweet none the less.

Only when Mrs. Weasley came to get Hermione away from the situation did everything explode. The coordinator of the hall made the mistake of mentioning Hermione’s lack of a companion and spent a good portion of the evening hiding from the Weasley matron – who took it upon herself to hex the wizard across the way.

When it came time to dance, Hermione took a seat at the furthest table and slumped against it. She waved away a waiter, who tried to offer her some liquor, and merely watched the happy couple sway back and forth. Her eyes danced across the happy couples, who joined later. Remus and Nymphadora had their heads together, her hair a fiery red when he whispered something into her ear. Hermione felt her heart drop once more when her eyes landed on Ron and Luna. They hadn’t been together long as Luna was a little naïve with Ron’s casual, albeit really bad, flirting. Eventually she figured it out and things seemed to blossom.

“Not dancing?” came a sultry deep voice from behind Hermione.

She turned slightly and groaned, rolling her head back onto her palm, “What do you want, Malfoy?”

“What, can’t I ask a question without having you assume I want anything?” He asked, appearing beside her with his hands shoved deep into his dress robes, tailored perfectly to his slim, muscular tall body.

Draco took a seat beside her and leaned back, clearly exhausted from standing so long. Hermione’s eyes glanced over his form, landing on his face. At twenty-five the former Death Eater looked far older than his age, although it suited him. He still had his blond silvery hair but bangs that swooped over to the side in small wisps, his chin was still pointed but his jaw square and prominent cheek bones. If she didn’t know better, she would have found him extremely attractive. But she did and he was still disgusting Malfoy.

His family had turned at the end of the war and fought for the Order. Draco himself had shown his loyalty when he saved Harry, embedding in them a certain bond that only one who saved the other’s life could share. They were hardly friends, but were polite and curt to one another. Why Draco was at Harry’s wedding was beyond Hermione, then again just about everyone appeared. Even a few former Slytherins appeared, namely Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini, though they didn’t arrive together.

They sat in silence for a long while, just watching people dance. Draco crossed and uncrossed his legs, shuffling from foot to foot. It annoyed her somewhat, causing her to look at him.

“Do you have to use the loo, or something?” She blurted out, watching as he stilled his body.

“Actually no, I already used the facilities,” he replied, grinning at her. “So…”

Another awkward silence passed between the pair before Draco stood. Hermione could have sighed with relief but when he didn’t leave she felt her heart jump into her throat. Draco bowed slightly and extended his hand, his cobalt blue eyes digging into her own.

“May I have the pleasure of this dance, Granger?” He asked, emphasizing her last name.

Before she could answer, she felt him grab her hand and pull her onto the dance floor. Great, she thought, just bloody brilliant. Draco spun her around quite expertly, but Hermione was caught off guard and sent crashing into his chest. His chest rumbled with a laugh, resulting in a glare from the curly-haired witch.

“I’m guessing you don’t get out much,” he chortled, bringing his hand to her waist and his hand to hers.

“I get out, I just don’t dance,” Hermione replied scathingly before biting her cheek when she felt his hand touch hers.

They swayed lightly against the tune of the music not saying anything. Hermione could feel Draco’s gaze on the top of her crown, but she didn’t dare look at him. She spotted Ron in her peripherals, staring at them, and felt herself leaning into Draco slowly. His hand moved from her waist to her lower back, lightly caressing the silky smooth fabric.

Somehow, this felt comforting to Hermione with Draco’s arms wrapped around her, holding her close. She felt her cheeks reddening when he pulled from her and gave her a small spin, slowly arching his arm to allow her to twirl under him. She moved slowly out of fear of tripping but she didn’t. Hermione smiled brightly at him when they returned to their original pose, their bodies swaying more at ease as the minutes went on.

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“You’re kidding!” Hermione said with a loud laugh, covering her mouth when a few people around them turned to see what was happening.

Draco laughed with her and shook his head, “It was probably one of the most terrifying moments of my life.”

“You have quite a few moments to compare that to,” she giggled, resting her chin on her hand as both became a little quiet.

She had spent the last three hours talking to Draco after their last dance. It was strange how the conversation never seemed to end and flowed from one subject to another. He had loosened his tie and opened a few buttons on his dress robe, looking completely relaxed at the back of the large room. Hermione had taken her heels off and sat with one leg comfortably under her.

“So what is the assistant director of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures doing at a wedding alone?” Draco asked, plopping his own chin onto his hand, mimicking Hermione with a knowing smirk.

Hermione laughed and pulled herself up, her eyes locking onto her hands. “I don’t know. I didn’t ask anyone to attend with me as a date and...yeah. What about you? Since when do you come party crashing?”

“Believe it or not, Granger, I was invited,” Draco glanced to Harry, who was laughing with great stride as Fred and George were being chased by Ginny after they bewitched her slice of cake to explode in her face. She was laughing, so Hermione bet that she wasn’t angry.

Hermione smiled at the scene but was interrupted by Draco’s conversation, “I hate to say it but Potter did right.” She quirked an eyebrow at him and watched Draco stare at the pair with a hint of envy. “Finding some one he loves, I mean.”

“Since when does the famous Falmouth Falcons seeker talk about sentimental values? Especially since he’s been known to be quite the ladies man,” She asked, masking a laugh when Draco met her humorous gaze.

“Been paying attention to my record then, Granger?” Draco grinned wickedly, watching a small blush graze her cheeks, “I thought you hated Quidditch.”

“I don’t hate Quidditch, besides I like to read. Just about anything.” She shrugged, turning her head to hide the blush that seemed to never fade when his eyes locked onto hers. “It’s not my fault that you’re basically plastered all over the Prophet and Witch Weekly.”

“Yes. It does become frightfully annoying. I can’t even take a piss without some one flashing a camera at me,” he said in all seriousness before catching Hermione’s gaze.

Both broke out into a mild chime of laughter. Hermione grew quiet when he brought his hand lightly to hers after resting it on the table. Her face reddened slightly before she pulled her hand away. Draco watched for a second but just brought his hand to his hair and brushed it back.

It was a known fact that Draco Malfoy was never without company. He was the star player of a ruthless Quidditch team. Their motto always being: “Let us win, but if we cannot win, let us break a few heads.” He was just as popular as Ginny, who shot the Holyhead Harpies into fame when she took them to the World Cup and won. Draco was probably even more popular because of his status as a Malfoy, former Death Eater, and he was enchantingly good looking. Blimey. Did she just say that Malfoy was good looking? Maybe she had too much to drink.

“Draco!” A high pitched squeal erupted behind Hermione, causing her to jump.

Pansy Parkinson appeared beside Hermione, her hair slicked back and dangling behind her ears. She wore a provocative emerald green gown and Hermione had to admit, she had grown quite pretty since her Hogwarts’ years. Pansy’s eyes landed on Hermione for a moment before she sneered.

“Hello, Pansy.” Draco replied, breaking Pansy’s death glare on the curly-haired witch.

“Dance with me?” She asked, extending her hand, “I saw you come in but I’ve just been so busy mingling…”

“This is a wedding, not a social gathering,” Hermione grumbled, watching Draco try to hide a grin.

Pansy glared daggers at Hermione and parted her lips to speak, but Draco stood at that moment.

“Let’s go then,” He replied, grabbing onto her hand and leading her onto the dance floor.

Hermione watched as Pansy and Draco moved together, Pansy swaying her hips just a little too fast for the song. She sighed and poured herself a glass of water, bringing a hand to her foot and massaging it lightly.