We Woke Up Married

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or anything else I don't own.

Author's Notes: I know this has been done before, but I couldn't resist doing it for myself, and I'm hoping that I'll be able to avoid too many clichés. I've been working on this story for awhile, and I think it's decent enough to post... anyway, I obviously haven't been able to read the sixth and seventh books, as it's currently 2004 and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix just came out last June 21st. So I've made up my own version of what happened Harry's sixth and seventh years at Hogwarts, and the story begins at the end of Harry's seventh year. Most of the things I've changed or added are explained in the story, so I don't really feel an author's note about them is necessary—but if anyone is confused about what I'm talking about, just mention it in a review or e-mail and I'll put in a note to explain.

I'd like to point out that I am American, not British, and I've never been to England; the closest I've gotten is a few places in Ontario, Canada. So I'm sorry if I screw up. I realize that I'm probably saying words they don't say in England and using things that don't exist over there—when I do, try to overlook it.

The updating for this story will probably move somewhat slowly, but the chapters are long—for me, anyway; most of them are about four thousand words. I'm really only posting this because of how slow my other fics are moving recently, but it is still a decent story in my opinion.

The rating is R for a lot of sensuality, and some swearing and violence, but not much.

Summary: At the end of seventh year, Voldemort was defeated by Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Draco Malfoy, who turned against the Death Eaters. After a Ministry of Magic party thrown in their honor (complete with a long night of drinking), Draco and Hermione wake up the next day in the same bed with the horrible realization that they've had sex and are married in the wizarding way—which is hard to dissolve.

This was based off a challenge I got at the Draco/Hermione community on yahoo, issued by Piaa. The challenge must include the following lines:

"Ginny! You're supposed to be sweet and pure!"

"What do you mean only one bedroom and one bed?"

"Cover her ears!"

"Snape totally freaked when he found out. It was hilarious!"

"Oh, you're so sleeping on the couch tonight, mister!"

"Neville! You're a dead man! That's my sister!"

Well, please review, guys. The faster I get reviews, the faster I tend to update.

We Woke Up Married

Chapter One

A Reason to Celebrate

Hermione Granger smiled as she sipped her glass of champagne, staring out at the crowd of people dancing or talking in the enormous ballroom. As her eyes slid over her friends and acquaintances, however, her smile slipped as she automatically took note of who wasn't there.

It was the end of her seventh year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the day after she'd taken her N.E.W.T. exams. Lord Voldemort had finally been vanquished two weeks before, and the Ministry of Magic was holding a fantastic celebration in honor of Hermione and the others who had been Voldemort's downfall. She knew she should feel pleased; they had won the war at last, and had defeated the most powerful Dark Wizard of their time, if not of all time. And yet...

"Sirius would have loved to be here," said a wistful voice behind her. She turned; there he was, Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the Man Who Triumphed Over He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

Hermione gave him a weak smile. "Yes, he would, Harry," she said softly. She looked up into his sorrowful green eyes and stepped forward, hugging him tightly, embracing the warm, strong, lightly muscled body of her friend. Harry held her close, burying his head in her hair.

"Listen, 'Mione," he said softly. "I... I was thinking. I can leave the Dursleys now, you know. I'm going to get a place of my own as soon as possible. And... well... Maybe you—and Ron, perhaps Ginny—should come live with me when school's out. Hold on to the good old days, you know?"

"That sounds lovely, Harry," she said. She pulled back, gently but firmly, though she kept her hands resting casually on his waist, Harry doing the same. "Have you asked Ron yet?"

Hermione looked up to meet his eyes, and tried not to wince. There was concern there, and after all Harry had been through, was still going through, the last thing she wanted was to give him another thing to worry about.

"I'll ask him soon," Harry said quietly. "School's not officially over for awhile." His eyes bored into hers, as though trying to read her like he would a book with very small print. "Are you okay, 'Mione?"

She smiled again, feeling tears in her eyes, but she held them back. "I'm fine, Harry. Are you?"

He sighed, releasing her waist, having realized he wasn't going to get her to open up to him very much at the moment. "Yeah, I'm okay. I'm going to go talk to Ron; do you want to come?"

She shook her head. "You go."

She watched him melt reluctantly into the crowd. It had been two years since he'd lost his godfather, but she knew it still hurt him, would probably always hurt. It seemed that Harry couldn't spend two minutes without acquiring new demons—external and internal—to fight; not only was he still mourning his parents and Sirius, but he wasn't as happy as one would have thought over Voldemort's death. Harry had been the one to ultimately kill Voldemort, though Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and Draco Malfoy had helped, and killing someone—no matter how evil that someone is—is never a pleasant experience.

She couldn't help shaking her head slightly at her thoughts; it still sounded strange to say "Draco Malfoy" in the same sentence as the rest of them (at least, without the word "hate" in there somewhere). They had all labeled Draco as a Death Eater, as one who would attempt to destroy them all; not one of them had thought he would follow in Severus Snape's footsteps and betray Lord Voldemort. He had turned against the Death Eaters in their sixth year (primarily because Voldemort had murdered his father as punishment for failing to retrieve the prophecy from the Department of Mysteries) and joined the Order of the Phoenix. It was he who had broken the strongest of Voldemort's shields in the final battle; Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had never delved deep enough into the Dark Arts to know how to undo the powerful, ancient magical barrier.

Draco and Harry were on their way to becoming friends, though it was still a tentative thing, even after over a year of working on the same side, and Draco and Ron were about the same. Surprisingly, Draco had truly hit it off with Ginny—probably because he hadn't insulted and provoked her as much as the rest of them, and she hadn't been around him as much—but Draco and Hermione hadn't even attempted friendship. He had insulted her, her looks, her parents, and her friends. He had insulted Gryffindor, Dumbledore, and McGonagall. In short, he had insulted just about everything she cared about and everyone she loved and admired, and the years of abuse were hard for her to forget. She was a very determined person, which also meant she had a tendency to hold a grudge, and her vast intellect gave her an even larger tendency not to forget past insults. She and Draco, when forced to socialize because of the friendships forming between Draco and Harry, Ron and Ginny, were rather like a divorced couple who'd ended on extremely bad terms and were only polite to one another for the sake of their children. It wasn't as though Draco hadn't made an effort; Hermione just wasn't ready to forgive him.

A flash of red hair on the dance floor caught her eye, and she smiled as she saw Ginny, her closest and only real female friend, dancing gracefully amongst the other couples. She frowned, however, when she realized Ginny was dancing with Malfoy. The word "Death Eater" flashed through her head; perhaps that was the true reason Hermione couldn't find it in her heart to make amends. Ever since Hermione was eleven years old, Draco Malfoy had brought to mind an image of Lord Voldemort and the Death Eaters.

He brought to mind an image of the people who'd tortured and murdered her parents.

She closed her eyes briefly; thinking about them still hurt. Just a few months ago, during the summer holidays before her seventh year when Hermione had been tucked away in the Headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix, several Death Eaters had invaded her parents' home, demanding to know where Hermione was—because once they had Hermione, they would have Harry. Her parents had been tortured severely, not only by the Cruciatus but by other, bloodier means; Hermione had visited the house after hearing of their deaths and had discovered a living room bathed in blood and gore. They hadn't even been murdered by the Killing Curse; they had bled to death painfully.

That was the real reason Harry had invited her to come live with him; he knew she wasn't going to be able to continue living in her old house. She had plenty of her own money—her parents, both dentists at the head of their field, had left her a small fortune, in addition to their large life insurance policies. Yet she had never lived alone before, and had expressed her trepidations about it to Harry and the others after her parents' death. She certainly wouldn't be going back to live in the house, either. Paying for it to be cleaned and moving all of the furniture and other belongings to storage had been painful enough, and the house had been on the market for quite some time, though no one was interested in buying. Once a potential buyer heard about the grisly slaughter of Mr. and Mrs. Granger, they weren't too keen to live there.

She drained the last of her glass of champagne and turned towards the bar, intent on getting something stronger to drink.


Draco watched Hermione out of the corner of his eye. He saw her talking to Harry, then he saw the smile on her face as she watched Ginny. He saw the smile evaporate as she caught sight of him.

He sighed inwardly. He had tried, over the past year and a half, to become friends with the four Gryffindors. Ginny, especially, had let him in, and so had Harry and even Ron. But every friendly word to Hermione, every smile and every gesture, was received with a cool, detached reply.

"What are you watching?"

He blinked, coming back to reality and turning his head back to Ginny. Without thinking, he'd been watching Hermione intently, but Ginny, who wasn't very tall, hadn't been able to see through the crowd. "Harry and Hermione. They were talking a second ago."

"Oh, yeah?" Ginny asked with carefully-controlled interest.

Draco grinned. Ginny had confided in him about Harry; he knew she wasn't truly over him. "They were hugging, too," he teased. "Getting a little frisky, maybe, couldn't see from here."

Ginny snorted and whacked Draco on the arm. "Yeah, right. The day they 'get frisky' is the day Snape announces his engagement to McGonagall."

He laughed. "You never know. Slytherin/Gryffindor relationships have improved recently."

Ginny smiled, shaking her head. "A year and a half ago, if someone had told me such a thing would happen, I'd have said they needed to stop listening to Professor Trelawney's predictions. Now look at us."

"I'll never forget the look on everyone's faces when the story came out," Draco said, grinning. "Remember? The five of us walked into the Great Hall together?"

"Hard to believe that was two weeks ago," Ginny said. Two days after the final battle, Dumbledore had thrown a huge feast. Several of the Slytherins—including Pansy Parkinson, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Millicent Bulstrode and Theodore Nott—had been absent, in addition to Draco, and most of the students had assumed Draco had been killed by the Order of the Phoenix or the Ministry like Crabbe, Goyle and Millicent or jailed like Pansy and Theodore; no one knew that he was, in fact, recuperating in the hospital wing. Dumbledore had given a long speech that ended in the words "I give you the defeaters of Voldemort!" and McGonagall had thrown the doors open. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Draco had walked in together, holding hands; Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws and the remaining Slytherins had been in total shock, gaping at Draco even as they (well, all but most of the Slytherins) cheered and rushed to congratulate and hug and hoist them onto shoulders. It had been the greatest moment in Draco's life, honored by the other houses and even from some students in his own house; Blaise Zabini, the only guy Draco shared a dorm with who hadn't been a supporter of Voldemort, had been one of two guys who'd lifted Draco above the crowd.

"Two weeks," Draco mused. "It does seem like a lifetime ago."

"Yeah."

The song to which they were dancing ended. Harry appeared at their side. "Mind if I cut in?" he asked.

"I thought you weren't much for dancing," Ginny said, lifting an eyebrow.

"The Ministry threw a party in our honor, Gin. I wanna celebrate," he said with a smile.

"I do too," Draco said, grinning. "I'm hitting the bar."

Ginny shot Draco a happy look as Harry took her hands. Draco winked at her and left. He liked to flirt with her, but he was fairly certain Harry was finally starting to see how cool she was, and Draco was content to leave his relationship with Ginny at friendship.

Friends, with the Little Weasel, he thought, shaking his head. Things had definitely changed.

As he reached the bar, he immediately caught sight of Hermione again. She appeared to be in deep discussion with Ron, however, so he kept his distance, ordering a drink. Ron looked pleased about something... but then, he usually did recently. Since the defeat of Voldemort, hundreds of people, both individuals and companies, had been sending the five of them letters and gifts as a sort of thank you, and begging them to endorse all sorts of items in exchange for a large paycheck; it seemed the Weasleys would never be poor again. Ron had been especially happy about this; while Harry, Hermione, and Draco had never needed extra cash, the Weasleys certainly had, and though Ginny had never seemed to care much about money, being poor had always depressed Ron. Hermione, Draco, Ron, and Ginny had become almost as famous as Harry overnight; they were no longer just regarded as Harry's nameless backup, but had been dubbed "the Heroes of the Second War." Now people wanted interviews from them almost as often as from Harry; people wanted autographs, they wanted to make action figures, they wanted to put the five of them on a T-shirt and sign contracts for promotions. They indulged their admirers occasionally—during the previous weekend, and the day before when the N.E.W.T. examinations had drawn to a close, they'd given lots of interviews to magazines and just about anyone but the Daily Prophet (they were still quite pissed off at the Daily Prophet, given what they'd done to Harry during and before his fifth year), and they'd agreed to a few public appearances, and they had answered loads of fan mail from people all over the globe. They'd even done a photo shoot together that very morning, making a good deal of cash. Harry was used to it, Hermione was indifferent, Ginny was pleased, Draco was overwhelmed, but Ron... Ron reveled in it.

After Ron left Hermione, waving at Draco as he passed, Draco noticed Hermione's happy look fade once again, and he went over to sit in Ron's empty seat. "Hey," he said.

Hermione gave him a half-hearted smile. She looked beautiful; she had straightened her hair out like she had at the Yule Ball their fourth year and she wore gorgeous purple dress robes and a little makeup to bring out her features. She really was pretty, with clear skin, high cheekbones, large brown eyes, full lips, and a smile that was now even, thanks to the shrinking of her front teeth. She seemed rather unhappy at the moment, however. "Hi, Draco," she said listlessly. She picked up a glass of Ogden's Old Firewhisky, which startled him a little; he hadn't figured her for much of a drinker beyond the occasional butterbeer or glass of wine.

"So... What were you and Ron talking about?" he asked, trying to make small talk.

"Oh, Harry's thinking about getting a place, and he wants me and Ron to move in with him," she responded vaguely.

"That's nice," Draco said. He felt a little envious; though he truly liked the idea of living on his own, he wished he were close enough to Harry, Ron, and Hermione to be invited as well. "Are you going to?"

"Probably," Hermione replied, sighing. "I don't have a place to live anymore, really."

"Oh," he said uncomfortably, instantly feeling sorry for her as he remembered hearing about her parents. "Was your house, um, destroyed?"

"No," she said, an edge to her voice. "I just don't like the memories of it being covered in blood, you know?"

"I'm sorry, Hermione," he said softly. He thought about taking her hand, but held back. He wasn't sure how she would react to such a gesture.

"Thanks," she said, but she fairly snarled the words.

He blinked, angry and a little hurt. He knew she was probably drunk—there were several empty shot glasses in front of her—but he was tired of her hating him, when he'd done so much to make amends. "What is it with you?" he snapped. "I'm sorry your parents are dead, but my father is too—"

"Your father was a murderer," she said hotly. "If he had been alive at the time, your father probably would have helped kill mine! He was probably there the day Harry's parents were slaughtered by Voldemort!"

"There's nothing I can do about that!" Draco almost shouted. "What do you want me to say? Huh? Hating me isn't going to bring your mum and dad back! I have nothing to do with it!"

Hermione stared at him, then turned away, taking a large gulp of her whisky. "I'm sorry, Draco," she whispered. "I know... I know nothing will bring them back..."

Draco felt his anger vanish, and impulsively he stood up and wrapped his arms around her, relieved when she hugged him back. "It's okay, Hermione," he whispered, stroking her hair as she rested her chin on his shoulder.

"No, it isn't," she said softly.

"It will be," he told her firmly. "It will be."

After a while, Draco released her, almost reluctant to do so. "Want another drink?" he asked her. She nodded, her eyes still misty. Draco called over the bartender, and got them both fresh drinks. "On me," he said firmly. She mumbled her thanks. Deciding it would be best to get her mind off things, he asked her to tell him about her adventures with Harry and Ron; he had only heard most of them from his father's viewpoint, and hadn't heard about several of them at all. She launched into the story of the Sorcerer's Stone, then went into Harry and Ron and Ginny's ordeal in the Chamber of Secrets and was soon cracking up as she told him about the bit with Sirius Black; Draco laughed his head off at the part where she and Harry and Ron attacked Snape in the Shrieking Shack. As they drank away their sorrows together, the night wore on.