Chapter Text
Harry James Potter
Harry lay in bed Sunday morning, staring at his ceiling. He had never been great with processing his feelings. He usually left that up to Hermione, she was so good at it. He would have loved to have spoken with her about the turmoil currently occupying his brain, but Merlin, she had enough on her plate at the moment. He wouldn't bother her right now. He just wished he had someone to talk to.
The thing about being a war hero was that it was very hard to know who to trust. So many people wanted a piece of him and many would do whatever it took to get it. He had Hermione, of course. There was always Luna, but as much as he adored her, she wasn't someone he went to for advice. She was more likely to recommend gurdy root tea or crystal gazing than to provide applicable, real world advice. He trusted Hagrid, but Hagrid wasn't much for relationship advice. He trusted George, but he was far too close to the matter to confide in, being a Weasley and all. And he had trusted Ron.
With a grumbled curse, Harry punched his pillow, then flung it across the room. Fucking Ron. Fucking Ginny. Fucking Molly. Harry knew he needed to remain calm, but he wanted to bash Ron's face in. He had never felt a hatred such as this, save Voldemort and Umbridge.
He considered staying in bed and feeling sorry for himself, but an owl began tapping insistently on his bedroom window. He untied the parchment and sent the owl on its way.
Harry, did you change the wards? I can't even see your house. If you're home I'd like a chat.
Recognizing Neville's messy scrawl, Harry jumped out of bed, tossed on a t-shirt and sweatpants and hurried downstairs. He had overlooked Neville in his list of people he could trust. He had known and liked Neville since they were boys, but it wasn't until after the war that the men became close. It had been Neville that had shown up at Grimmauld Place two weeks after the final battle with a pizza and a case of beer. Neville that had told Harry all about the previous year at Hogwarts. Neville that had listened to Harry's ramblings after the final battle. Neville that consistently checked in, kept Harry from becoming overwhelmed by it all.
"Hey mate," Harry called across the street when he stepped onto the stoop, waving to Neville. "Come on in."
"I brought bagels," Neville held up a bag as he hustled up the front steps. "What's up with the wards?"
"Shit, I don't even know where to start," Harry said, leading Neville to the kitchen. Kreacher appeared, humming while brewing tea, eyeing the bagels with suspicion.
"Anything to do with Ron?" Neville asked.
"Yeah," Harry nodded. "And Ginny and Molly. Why do you ask?"
"Because Ron is going around to everyone asking if we know where his wife is," Neville explained. "Being a real arse about it, too. Hermione's ok, right?"
"She's fine, now that she's away from Ron," Harry said.
"He hurt her, didn't he?" Neville's eyes narrowed. The scars on his face were more noticeable when he was angry, Harry had noticed. Usually Neville's charming smile and general pleasantness pulled focus from the jagged wounds, but when he was upset, he looked very much the war veteran that he was.
"Yes," Harry replied simply.
"I'll kill him," Neville declared.
"Get in line," Harry said. "We have to keep him away from Hermione. Ginny and Molly too."
"We're still ok with George?" Neville questioned.
"Yeah, George is absolutely fine," Harry nodded. "Look, here's the situation..."
Fifteen minutes later Neville quietly inspected his bagel crumbs, apparently at a loss for words.
"What can I do to help?" he asked. "You and Hermione, what do you need?"
"I could use a best man tomorrow," Harry shrugged.
"Done," Neville said, "I'll be there. But, seriously mate, how are you dealing with all of this?"
Neville stayed for over an hour, listening to Harry. Then he asked Harry to pass his love and offer to kill Ron on to Hermione and took his leave. Harry felt better, getting everything off of his chest. Smiling a bit to himself, he owled Pansy to let her know he had chosen a best man and he would see her in the morning.
***
Lucius Abraxas Malfoy
Lucius had gone into the office very early Monday morning. Hermione had been a bundle of nerves at breakfast, continually adding to the list that Lucius was dutifully writing while his eggs got cold. He decided to depart when she began contemplating using Polyjuice Potion so that she could slip into work unnoticed. Lucius rose from the table and exchanged looks with Narcissa and Draco. They would be able to keep Hermione in the Manor, he was fairly certain. He would get to work and prove to his boss that he could handle things in her absence. Perhaps that would take one burden off her mind.
He was scribbling away (Correction, he never scribbled. His calligraphy was impeccable.) on a parchment, enjoying the peace of an empty office, when the door flew open.
"Where's my wife?" Ron Weasley demanded as he swiveled his head around, his face beet red under his freckles. He looked mildly deranged. Lucius took a deep breath, he would be lying if he said he hadn't expected this.
"You know very well that I won't be answering that question," Lucius stared the other man down over his reading glasses.
"Of course," Ron snarled. "Of course her pet Death Eater is covering for her. Hermione is my wife, I have the right to know where she is."
"I'm not at liberty to disclose Miss Granger's location and I'd advise you to stop looking for her," Lucius was trying to stay calm, though he very much wished to throttle the young man before him. He remained seated, though he slipped his wand from his robes.
"Tell me where she is!" Ron shouted, pulling his own wand. "Is she out there fucking someone else? Are you fucking her?"
Lucius rose with a slam of his cane and rounded his desk.
"Do not speak about Hermione that way," Lucius hissed, inches from Ron's face. "You're very lucky, Weasley, that any violence would send me back to Azkaban. My self-control is the only reason you're still standing."
"Fuck you, Death Eater!" Ron roared.
The office door slammed open again and Auror Potter entered with his wand raised. His face clouded with fury as he spied Ron.
"Harry!" Ron exclaimed, having a go at looking friendly. "I was just coming to see you next. Do you know where Hermione has gone off to?"
In one quick move, Harry slammed Ron against the wall and braced his forearm on Ron's neck. Ron's eyes flew open in surprise.
"Harry, I don't know what Hermione been telling you - " he managed to choke out before Harry applied more pressure to his windpipe.
"I saw the bruises," Harry growled. "I saw the blood. Don't ever come near me or Hermione again. I'll either kill you or arrest you, depending on my mood."
Harry let go and took a step back, allowing Ron to slump onto the floor.
"Get out, Weasley," Lucius said quietly. "Don't come looking for Hermione again."
Ron stormed out of the office, slamming the door so hard that it bounced back open.
"And tell your sister the wedding's off, will you?" Harry shouted at Ron's retreating form. He raked a hand through his hair and took a deep breath.
"Well, Mr. Potter, are you ready to get married in an hour?" Lucius asked lightly as he took his seat. His hand trembled only slightly as he slipped his wand into his pocket. Weasley was dangerous. He was a threat to Hermione. Lucius' nerves were on fire. He would need to speak with Draco, impress upon his son the severity of this situation. Hermione must be protected from the Weasleys, it was imperative. And Lucius supposed Potter should be protected as well. Salazar, his life had changed in the last few years.
"Sure," Harry shrugged with a wry smile that seemed to be an effort. "You'll come down for the ceremony?"
"Narcissa will be meeting me here shortly," Lucius said. "Then we'll join you for the wedding."
"I appreciate it," Harry said, running a hand over his face, knocking his glasses askew.
"Nonsense," Lucius said. "You're my future daughter-in-law's best friend, you're nearly family. I'm just sorry that Hermione will not be able to join us."
"Keeping her safe is more important," Harry said. "I shudder to think what would have happened if she had been here when Ron showed up."
"I would have killed him before he touched her again," Lucius said without hesitation. "And I would have enjoyed every second of it."
***
Draco Lucius Malfoy
Draco would not be attending the wedding. Pansy had asked he, Theo, and Blaise to stay away, not wanting to call undo attention to the ceremony. Too many former Slytherins in the same room as Harry Potter would cause Ministry heads to turn. Pansy didn't want word to reach her parents or the Weasleys before all of the paperwork was signed and the marriage was official. She had only invited her favourite sister, Poppy, to attend as her maid of honour. Harry had only invited Neville. Draco's parents had offered to attend as witnesses. Draco was rather sad for his friend Pansy that her wedding day was such a non-event. Pansy did always like a spectacle.
Draco was bored. Theo was doing a shift at St. Mungo's and Blaise had errands to run. Draco didn't have a large group of friends, he really only hung out with his business partners. He supposed his friend group would potentially be expanding to include a bunch of Gryffindors, if his plans went well. He could figure out the new friend group later. For now, he needed concentrate on seducing the woman across the hall. No, not seducing, he corrected himself. That sounded sleazier than his intentions were. He needed to concentrate on making the woman across the hall love him as devotedly and endlessly as he loved her. Right. Easy enough.
He had a decent idea while lying in bed this morning, thinking about her. Lucius was always going on about how Hermione would forget to eat or drink or take any sort of break if he wasn't in the office to remind her. Lucius would lament, with a fond smile on his face, that once Hermione set her mind to a task, basic human needs like sustenance would completely slip her mind. She was working from the Manor today, with no Lucius around to take care of her.
She liked her tea black and hot, Draco knew from over a decade of observation. Same with coffee - no muss, no fuss. She wasn't much for sweets or puddings, but she loved cheese and bread. She ate a lot of apples, but absolutely devoured raspberries when given the opportunity. She enjoyed red wines, butterbeer, and gin and tonics. She hated white wine, even with fish, and had never once imbibed a gillywater in his presence. She loved mashed potatoes and lima beans but picked at her carrots and never touched cauliflower.
Draco glanced at his watch and thought it was an appropriate time for morning tea. He hadn't heard a peep out of Hermione's room since breakfast, he assumed she was hard at work. He wandered down to the kitchens and asked Junie to brew Earl Grey. He rummaged around and found a baguette, sharp cheddar, and the raspberries he had asked Junie to buy. Junie displayed everything pleasingly on a tray and asked Draco if she should go serve Miss Granger. Draco thanked her but declined the elf's offer.
Brimming with optimism, he put the first step of his plan into action (and, yeah, it was the only step he had so far, not important). Levitating the tray beside him, he knocked on Hermione's door. After a moment, she called out to invite him in.
Draco was a bit surprised when he saw her. She was behind her desk and had clearly been working hard at some point. The desk was littered with parchments and folders, there was ink splattered on her neck and collar, and she had messily secured her hair on the top of her head with her wand. However, it looked as though she had been distracted.
He noted with alarm that her eyes were puffy and red, far too bright and shiny. Her lower lip was trembling. There was a box of tissues in front of her.
"Are you ok?" he asked, sending the tea tray to the kitchenette. "What's happened?"
Hermione took a shaky breath and sniffled, then waved her hand in an attempt at airiness. "I'm being silly," she responded. "I just realized a few minutes ago that Harry's getting married at this very moment and I'm not there. I wish I could see my best friend get married."
She grabbed a tissue and dabbed at her eyes.
"It sucks," Draco said. "I hate missing it too, Pansy's like my sister. And I love a good wedding."
"Really?" Hermione asked, eyebrows raised. "You don't strike me as the wedding type."
"Of course," Draco grinned. "Music, dancing, open bar, dress robes, watching Theo get drunk and embarrass himself...I love weddings."
"Harry said they'll have a reception when all of this blows over," she said, sounding a little less upset. "I'll admit that I do love to see drunk Harry try to dance."
"I absolutely need to see that," Draco laughed.
"Anyway, sorry you had to see me in such a state," Hermione cleared her throat. "You knocked, did you need something?"
"I brought tea," he said, summoning the tray to land on her desk.
"Wow, thanks Malfoy," she said, smiling. "Let me guess, you've heard Lucius fret about my inability to feed myself."
"Yes," he confessed. "And I thought you could use a break."
"A break sounds nice," she said, leaning back in her chair and pulling her wand from her hair. Draco watched in fascination as the cloud of curls settled around her shoulders. Merlin, he wanted to touch her hair. "Join me?"
He had planned on it anyway, but he liked that she had asked. He nodded and started pouring her a cup.
"Pansy was really nervous about marrying Potter," he told her. "At least on Saturday. When I owled with her yesterday, she seemed calmer."
"Harry was nervous too," Hermione said, slicing into the baguette. "But he's often on edge, so sometimes it's hard to tell how severe his nerves are."
"I suppose being the number one target for the Dark Lord will make someone edgy," Draco considered. Having rather annoyed the Dark Lord on more than one occasion, Draco could empathize with the lasting effect his displeasure could have on one's nerves.
"Exactly," Hermione said. "And while he is an excellent Auror, probably the best the Department has...well, it's not a relaxing job and I worry that he's putting too much pressure on himself. All that stress, it can't be good for him."
"Have you told him this?" Draco asked.
"Dozens of times," she said. "He says he doesn't know what else he could do, all he's ever been good at is Quidditch and fighting dark wizards. And he doesn't want to play Quidditch professionally."
"Even I know Potter is good at more than that," Draco scoffed. "He can't possibly be that insecure."
"He is," she said. "Which is bonkers, Harry's a great wizard. He could do whatever he wants if he would just apply himself."
"Which I'm assuming you've told him dozens of times?" he teased.
"Yes," she confirmed. "No one ever listens. If I had spent near the amount of time working on my career that I have spent lecturing Harry and R - "
She broke off and her eyes were shiny again. Draco didn't know what to say. She clearly didn't want to discuss Ron, but he didn't know where to take the conversation from this awkward point.
" - lecturing Harry, I would already be Minister of Magic." Hermione stuffed several raspberries in her mouth, avoiding his eyes.
"You'll get there before you're thirty," Draco said confidently. "What campaign ideas do you have?"
Hermione glanced at her watch. "Tell you what," she said. "I'll show you my campaign binder over whiskey some night, and you can show my your business plan. For now, I should get back to work."
"Can't wait," he said sincerely, gathering up the tea tray. "I'll let you get back to it. I'll have Junie bring tea this afternoon."
"Thanks Malfoy, this was nice," she said, gathering up her hair and shoving her wand back through it. "I'll see you at dinner."