Author's Note: I own nothing.

The Mini Epilogue

Magical Matrimony or Mayhem:

Pureblood Prince and Potter's Princess Wed Amid Scandal of Secret Love Child

By Rita Skeeter

(Disclaimer from the editor: The Daily Prophet is legally obligated to inform its readers that Ms. Skeeter's opinions are those of her own and do not reflect those of this fine paper.)

Since the announcement of the Granger-Malfoy engagement two weeks ago, Britain's wizarding world has been abuzz with excitement. Indeed, it is hard to recall a time when the nuptials between wizard and witch have been so intensely anticipated or scrutinized. With public opinion softening towards the Malfoy family since the Malfoy heir began dating Britain's most famous Muggleborn roughly one year ago, no couple has so captivated the wizarding world apart from Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley. As The Boy Who Lived has no future plans to wed the youngest Weasley—his girlfriend of nearly five years who the tabloids have playfully dubbed "Waiting Foreva Genevra"—it is easy to see why.

In spite of such great public interest, very little is known about the nuptials themselves. What information has been leaked has caused many a wizard and witch to scratch their heads. Given the tremendous wealth of the groom's family, many assumed the Malfoy-Granger nuptials would be a lavish spectacle on par with the opulent affairs typical of pureblood weddings pre-Voldemort, and even that of the groom's parents. Instead, the Malfoy-Granger wedding theme seemed to focus on thrift and practicality in shocking fashion. The ceremony and reception took place in one of the Malfoy's smaller properties in France. As for the wedding cake, rather than contracting with a local bakery, reliable sources inform us that Molly Weasley made the chocolate raspberry confection. The wedding party was no more impressive, consisting of a paltry two people, with Blaise Zabini serving as Best Man and Ginny Weasley as the Maid of Honour. Perhaps the bride and groom have fewer friends to call upon than previously thought. Alternately, some speculate the jealousy of the bride and groom would not permit others to be invited into the bridal party.

Conventional wisdom dictated that the Malfoy bride be as spectacularly outfitted as Narcissa Black had been nearly twenty five years ago when she married into the Malfoy family. Her dress—a one-of-a-kind creation from Twilfitt and Tattings—was constructed of the finest French silk and boasted of a 25 foot train, an equally long veil, and a twenty pound sequined head piece. Instead, the ever-sensible Gryffindor bucked society rules altogether and wore a hand-me-down dress nearly fifty years old, presumably made of cotton, though as the bride in question refused to comment for this article we cannot verify that particular detail. While this purposeful simplicity may seem incomprehensible to the wizarding world, it must be assumed this is some quaint Muggle custom meant to accommodate the wishes of the bride's parents. As the Muggle saying goes, 'Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue.' Clearly the dress falls into the old and borrowed categories. It can only be speculated what the bride wore that was new and/or blue (see page 5 for more information).

The guest list contained many Hogwarts alumni and faculty, as well as family of the bride and groom, though those present numbered less than one hundred people. It has been rumoured that the original invite list was much greater, but potential attendees were still wary of associating with the Malfoys. Alternately it has been posited that Granger alienated many of her co-workers with her abrupt departure from the Ministry of Magic.

While much speculation still surrounds the wedding, one thing not up for debate was the presence of a small boy who looked suspiciously like both Hermione and Draco Malfoy. The young ring bearer possessed curly blond hair and grey eyes, and according to our sources more than one individual commented that he looked like the offspring of the newly married couple. If true, it would explain why the Malfoy-Granger engagement and wedding seemed to be conducted so quickly and secretly. If true, the actual wedding has been in the work for years and was not rushed at all. However, secrecy would have been needed to keep the scandal of a love child from the public.

A little Malfoy would certainly give new context to old facts. While it is known that almost from the beginning of their public relationship, Miss Granger has been desirous to sire the Malfoy heirs, there are rumours circulating the words, 'Malfoy, I want your blond, Slytherin babies,' did not actually come from her mouth. The reader should consider that this was only a clever ruse to deflect attention away from a blond, Slytherin-Gryffindor baby already in existence.

While the couple's honeymoon plans have been kept confidential, according to trustworthy sources the newlyweds are spending two weeks on Capri, an island off the coast of Italy famous for its topless mermaids. In local legends, the island is said to contain magical properties that enhance fertility. Will we soon be hearing the pitter patter of tiny wizard feet? Or perhaps a little witch's scampering to join the alleged Malfoy-Granger love child? (story continued on page three).

With a laugh, Hermione set the Daily Prophet down. Not moving from her place on the bed, Hermione reached for the nightstand and blindly felt around for her wand. Grabbing the stick of vine, she lazily flicked her wrist, levitating the pages through the open balcony doors. A gentle breeze rifled through the paper, and for a few seconds she watched its pages flutter before she set it on fire. The small flame was not large enough by half, but that problem was easily solved. Summoning the other two copies of the Daily Prophet she'd yet to read, she added them to the conflagration. Much better. Too tired to lift her head or get out of bed, she contented herself with picturing the ashes scattering across the lapis expanse of the Mediterranean Sea. "And may the mermaids choke on them," she happily sang.

Hermione closed her eyes, nestling her head further into her pillow while her hand once again lazily groped along her nightstand. Where were those blasted...Ah ha! Her fingers wrapped around the stack of letters Ginny had asked their close family and friends to write to the bride and groom. A rather thoughtful gift Hermione never would have expected Ginny to devise, especially given how upset she was when she found out she'd lost the bet to Zabini.

The letters had sat neglected on the nightstand for the past three days. Not that Hermione could be blamed. Things had been rather busy. As soon as their reception had ended, she and Malfoy had Portkeyed from France to Capri, a destination Draco had managed to keep secret right until the moment they appeared at the hotel they'd stayed at before. Since then she'd been too busy becoming Mrs. Malfoy to even think about the letters. With a smug smile, Hermione pulled up the white cotton sheet, tenting it over her head as she burrowed into the mattress, clutching the letters to her chest. Yes, congratulations were in order. First to her, since she'd allowed Draco to insist on his plans for their wedding night, and second to him, for the wedding night itself. Unsurprisingly, her introduction to wedded bliss was a lot like her husband—ambitious, determined, resourceful, and charming. For that alone Draco deserved a prize. But there was also the matter of the most comfortable mattress on which she now lay. He had been right. It was much better than a stone bench.

With a loud yawn, Hermione stretched her limbs to the four corners, taking full advantage of the empty bed. Draco had briefly absented himself to retrieve some lunch, having tired of the room service they'd been living off for the past three days. He'd left her with a warning not to get too comfortable, so she figured she had less than half an hour to herself. But what to do with it? Wait until he returned before opening Ginny's wedding gift? Or read the letters and reseal them before he returned?

Hermione turned the thick, cream-colored envelope over in her hands, tracing the neat script of her mother addressing them as Mr. And Mrs. Malfoy. Biting her lip, she hesitated before deciding that Draco would understand.

She'd just slipped her finger under the lip of the envelope when out of nowhere the sheet she was resting under was ripped away, exposing her to a very handsome blond man standing over her. Hermione screamed.

Draco quickly set down the food on the night stand and covered Hermione's mouth with his hand. 'Shhhh. What will our neighbours think?'

He waited a few moments before finally uncovering her mouth.

'I don't care what they think!' she shouted.

'Says the woman who always makes me cast a Silencio over the room beforehand.'

Hermione blushed but refused to give way. 'That is only out of politeness for the people next door. And don't think you can distract me from the issue at hand. You have got to stop using that Invisibility Cloak to sneak up on me,' she admonished, adding a slap on his arm for good measure.

'You didn't complain about my use of the Invisibility Cloak last night.'

Having finally wrestled the sheets from under her husband, Hermione pulled them over herself. 'That was different,' she answered primly, smoothing out the wrinkles in the sheets with her hands.

When she looked up, Draco was gone.

'Draco! Draco, that's not funny! Take that thing off this instant or I'll—'

The other side of the mattress dipped and suddenly she felt Draco's lips on her arm, slowly ascending towards her shoulder. What had she been saying? Oh, yes, threats of bodily harm and withholding of sex.

Pulling off the cloak from around his head, Draco looked up, hair tousled and mouth quirked. 'Yes?'

'I was thinking we could read the letters now.'

'What letters?'

Hermione gently shoved him off her chest, revealing the letters which had been smashed between them. 'These ones.'

He reached for them, but she drew them back. 'No. You'll just throw them off the bed.'

'I fail to see what's wrong with that. We'll have plenty of time to read things after our honeymoon.'

'From the way you keep going at it, one would think these were the only two weeks we'll ever sleep with each other.'

Draco raised his eyebrows. 'That's not funny. I suggest a compromise. You read the letters aloud, while I do my best to distract you from them.' Then he disappeared under the cloak again.

Hermione opened the first letter, addressed to Draco from her parents and tried to read with as steady a voice as possible, considered she was being felt up by the handsomest wizard of her acquaintance.

Draco Malfoy,

While I did not expect to be writing this letter for at least another five years, the task has fallen to me to welcome you to the Granger family a mere two weeks after I only consented to you courting my daughter.—

Draco interjected, his voice slightly muffled by the Invisibility Cloak, "I never said five years. He assumed that."

Nevertheless, since you've married into a Muggle family, I feel it incumbent upon me to introduce you to the "other" way of living. Hermione tells me that you use spells to ensure your dental health. When you return from your vacation with my daughter,-

Draco laughed smugly. "He can't even refer to it as a honeymoon. If he only knew what his sweet little girl was doing on her 'vacation.'"

"Let me finish," Hermione said, her cheeks flushing though not with anger.

When you return from your vacation with my daughter, you must allow me to show you the family business. There are some new drills in particular I've been dying to try out.

"Ha! Not bloody likely!"


Richard Granger

"It looks like my mom added something in the post script."

"Finally, someone who likes me."

"My father likes you. He just needs to get...used to you."

Draco, dear, don't worry about Richard. He talks a big game, but he's as gentle as a kitten.

"More like a grumpy old half-kneazle."

"Draco, hush!"

He's just finding it hard to deal with losing his little girl. Plus, I think he's still rattled from when he mistook Teddy as your child with Hermione. Personally, I would love if a little cherub like Teddy were part of the family. Hopefully, we won't have to wait too long for that blessed addition.

Hermione groaned, "Blessed addition?"

"Your mother is a woman of great sense, and I think it only fair that we give her the grandchild that she deserves. Now put the letters down and have my blond, Slytherin babies."

Though sorely tempted to comply, Hermione saw the next envelope was addressed to her in Narcissa's elegant scrawl. "One more letter, and then the baby-making."

Draco sighed, yanking off the cloak. "Fine. Make it quick."

"That's what she said," Hermione mumbled under her breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing." Hermione cleared her throat.

Dearest Hermione Malfoy,

I cannot tell you how happy it makes me to address you as such.

"See, that is how you properly introduce someone into the family."

"I thought you wanted me to make this quick."

Draco pressed his lips together, but said nothing.

Welcome to our wonderful family. I hope you don't find me presumptuous when I say I hope there will soon a few more little additions to the Malfoy family tree. Lucius would so dote upon a grandson. Or granddaughter. Why not both?

"Our mothers seem to have nothing but babies on the brain."

Andromeda sends her wishes as well. We have been wanting this since before you and Draco met that night of babysitting Teddy.

And as my new daughter-in-law I want you to know that your apology for deceiving me about your relationship with Draco was wholly unnecessary. I knew you and Draco weren't together. Indeed, it is I who should be asking your forgiveness for forcing the two of you to be interviewed by Mr. Cavanaugh. However, as things ended so happily I feel no guilt and therefore offer no apologies.

Send Draco my love, and let him know that his father and I are so proud of him.

Before Draco could say anything, Hermione ripped open the letter from Ginny and Harry.

See Hermione, I was right. He was in love with you. And while I'm happy that you finally found happiness with your Slytherin, considering I pushed you (repeatedly) to pursue Malfoy, I am more than a little upset that you couldn't wait until next year to marry. I now owe Blaise two hundred galleons.

Just below Ginny's ink-spattered missive was Harry's messy scrawl.

You're lucky. She almost sent you a Howler. Congrats, BTW. Also, when will you be returning? We have a pick-up Quidditch game scheduled for next Wednesday and we need Malfoy to be the Seeker.

"Ha. There's only one Golden Snitch I'm interested in."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Make sure to include that in your refusal."

Draco let out a whine as she attempted to open the next letter.

"There's just three more letters. I promise."

"Ugh. Fine."

"This one's for you from Blaise."

Having buyer's remorse about Sharon as my secretary. Not sure it was worth winning the bet. Sending her to India to learn about the remora fish.

Hermione laughed. "If only the mermaids could go there as well."

"Next letter, wife. Chop chop."

"Alright, this one's from Lavender and Ron."

Draco groaned. "Can't I spend two weeks without being reminded of Weasley's existence?"

Hermione scanned the letter, quickly summarising the main point. "They invited us to their wedding next year."

"If they can make it that long," Draco snorted.

Hermione turned the last letter over in her hands. "There's no inscription on this. Who do you think it's from?" A list of possibilities ran through her head, but before she could voice any of them, Draco huffed and stood up from the bed.

"I'm going to the bathroom," he said.

Hermione rolled off the bed, wrapping the sheet around her as she stood up. "But don't you want to know—"


Hermione opened the mysterious note only to be greeted with very familiar penmanship.

Dearest Hermione,

By now you are my wife in both name and body. I'd ask if it was as good for you as it was for me, but I (and the whole island of Capri) already know the answer to that. Now put down the letters and attend to your husband.


Your Slytherin sex god

Hermione jumped, dropping her letter to the ground as two invisible, strong arms wrapped around her waist.

'I see you found my note. Now come back to bed, my Gryffindor sex kneazle.'

Her nickname was still a work in progress, but Hermione complied with little complaint. After all, their blond, Slytherin babies would not make themselves.

The End