A/N: None of the character's are mine.

My Best Friend's Wedding

Prologue: Harry, Ron, and Hermione have all graduated from Hogwarts and the setting is now a couple of years later.

Chapter 1

Hermione looked at her watch.


She attempted to run as fast as her legs would allow her while clutching her bag tightly. She looked at it again. Five minutes left. She cursed under her tired breath and finally caught the train in her sights.

"Wait! No please, wait!" she called out, frantically waving her free arm at the train preparing to leave. At last she reached the train deck and slowed her pace to a quick walk.

"Thank you so much," she panted out and took a seat on the first vacant spot she saw. She was still taking in short breaths as she allowed her head to rest back and closed her eyes.

Missing this train would have been a great disappointment for Hermione. She had been planning this trip for weeks. It has been awhile since she's seen Harry or Ron so normally, she was quite excited upon receiving her letter of invitation to Fred's wedding. It's true, Harry, Ron, and Hermione did owl each other after their graduation in Hogwarts but even the close-knit Gryffindor trio had trouble keeping in close proximities of one another's lives. They accepted this, though they had made a pact to stay best friends forever. And now that they were all going to meet up again, it was difficult to hide the anxiousness. Hermione knew very little of the details of her best friend's lives. All she knew was that Ron worked with his father studying muggles and more recently, met a girl in Fred and George's Joke shop while helping out, as Fred had been busy planning the wedding and all. As for Harry, she had heard news of him possibly being recruited into Puddlemere United. So as far as she knows, her friends had done pretty good for themselves.

Hermione herself was doing fine, too. She had been dating Viktor Krum for a little bit more than a year now and had been working with the Ministry of Magic as the head Potions analyst since she graduated.

She opened her eyes only to realize the train had come to a stop. 'I'm here already?? How long have I had my eyes closed?' She looked around to see everyone still seated either droned out, sleeping, or chattering amongst themselves.

"Sorry folks. We're just having a small delay. We should be moving along any minute now." The voice on the speakers spoke out. Hermione grunted to this and slumped back in her chair. A loud arrogant voice then shook Hermione to her core.

"I don't care how sorry you are! I will not tolerate incompetence in my presence, even if it is just one of your pathetic excuses for a servant." 'Why do I feel like I've heard that voice before?' Hermione's heart sank upon hearing the second man's response.

"Yes sir, Mr. Malfoy. Again, my apologies."

"Just get away from me before I have you thrown off this train as well."

Hermione could feel rocks in her throat as she realized the voices were getting closer and closer, accompanied by two sets of footsteps. The second pair of feet stopped and began walking away, while one set of feet were still making its way towards her. Quietly praying it wasn't Malfoy who was heading closer, she quickly and tightly closed her eyes. She allowed several seconds to pass before opening her eyes again. To her sheer horror, there he was, sitting right in front of her; the blonde-haired, blue-eyed, pale-faced ferret boy she'd hated so much in the flesh, only slightly older. His eyes was focused upon a copy of the Daily Prophet, sitting upright on his lap. She would have liked to have left him alone. Clearly, he hadn't even spotted her. And she could've slipped out unnoticed as soon as she reached her destination. But no. Her vocal chords had other plans for her.

"M-Malfoy?" she stuttered, having it come out as quiet and squeaky. He sharply lifted his head to her direction, still holding the cold, hard stare he'd given the other man previously.

"It's Mr. Malfoy to you, sweetheart" he spat at her venomously, emphasizing on the 'Mr'. Hermione's eyes widened, wondering why her voice betrayed her. He was now looking at her carefully, as if pondering something in his mind.

"You seem awfully familiar" he finally said after several seconds of silence. In her mind, she scolwed herself for opening the lines of communication between herself and her seven-year rival.

"I get that a lot," she says quickly making grab for the pumpkin juice she'd bought earlier, and hoping that should discourage him from saying anything else.

"No it's more than that. It's the way you slouch so manly, and the way you unattractively bite your nails…"

"Shut up Malfoy!" Hermione suddenly cried out. She wasn't thinking when the words escaped her lips, but they did as a reflex. Draco, who in turn was ready to go on the defensive, had stood up above Hermione and glowered down at her. His face was in a hard frown and looked as if he was ready to hex her. Instead, his face softened to a mocking smirk she recognized all too well.

"Granger. I should've known it was you. Why, you've barely changed, haven't you? You'd think that after some time you'd start looking decent, but I guess it just made you worse-looking." He had sat back down, enjoying the torture he lay before his long-time nemesis. But Hermione just glared at him. Somehow he always knew the right buttons to push. But still, much to her efforts, she tried to ignore his taunting.

"So how is Weasley and Potter? Have those two prats eloped yet? I always thought they made a good couple." Hermione gritted her teeth in annoyance.

"Look, Malfoy. Why don't you just busy yourself with whatever it was you were doing before-perhaps torturing little house elves-and leave me alone!" With that, she crossed her arms in front of her chest and focused her attention to the window. But Draco had other plans in mind. He coolly walked up to her again and stood his ground, still smirking at her.

"I know you can't resist me, Granger. You don't have to fight it. If it makes you feel better, I won't tell anyone." That was about all she could take from him. She looked up at him disgustedly and stood up herself so as almost eye level to him. She then grabbed her pumpkin juice and slowly poured it over his head. Draco stared at his soaked robes incredulously. Out of luck, the train had stopped and Hermione was finally in London. She glanced out her window to see Ron fishing through the crowd of people filing out with his eyes. She smiled, grabbed her bag and began to push through the crowd.

"You filthy little-!" was all she heard, his voice cut off by the sound of the train's whistles. Hermione ran out excitedly and grabbed Ron in her arms, hugging him tightly.