Title: Susceptible

Author: SkoosiePants

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“You do realize that you’re not really a pirate, right?”

Harry cocked his head to the side. “What’s your point, Hermione?”

Hermione tapped her quill impatiently on the parchment in front of her. “My point, Harry,” she said sternly, “is that you are not wearing,” she glanced down at the special order slip from Madam Malkin’s, “a red silk sash, fitted black breeches, and an Italian linen white button-down.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “I absolutely forbid it.”

“But Hermione,” he whined, spreading his hands out imploringly, “Zabini said it was all right. He even helped pick out the fabric. And you know Seamus’ Dad is getting us real cutlasses. We have to wear the outfits.”

Hermione pressed her fingers to her temples, visions of Ron slicing Malfoy’s throat in the middle of the reception rattling around in her mind. “No sharp knives, Harry. Please.”

“And it’s going to look stupid if Neville sings you down the isle in dress robes—"

“Neville is not singing me down the isle,” she cut in.

“What?” Harry looked vaguely startled. “What d’you mean, Neville isn’t singing you down the isle? It’s been planned for ages, Hermione, and he’s worked so hard on The Maid on the Main; he can’t not sing it.”

Hermione tapped her quill on the parchment again, unwittingly blotting out the word ‘forever’ in the vows she’d been working on. “I’m walking down the isle to Annie Laurie, Harry. And Lavender is singing it.”

“But Zabini said Neville could—“

“Oh, sod Blaise,” Hermione shouted, dropping the quill in disgust and tearing up her now ruined vows. Wasn’t anything going right? “It’s not his place to say, is it?”

“Erm...” Harry trailed off, giving her a wary, wide-eyed stare. “It’s not?” he finally asked softly.

She gave an exasperated sigh and sank down low in her chair. Leaning on her elbows she dove her hands into her hair and hung her head. “This is my day,” she said tiredly. “And I’m not going to let you, or the crew, or Blaise, or Blaise’s parents, or his damned cat, or Snape and his sour face that Blaise insisted on having as a groomsman, ruin my wedding.”

“What’d his cat do?”

She sat up and waved her hand dismissively, then tugged a fresh sheet of parchment from her bag. “What didn’t he do?” she countered, unwilling to put into words the fact that she knew, just knew, from merely looking at the scrawny alley cat, that the beast would want to bear the rings to the altar. Over her dead body would that happen. Crookshanks would pitch a fit.

She scratched her quill determinedly across the rough surface of the parchment, her lips pressed in a grim line. Blaise, you are my greatest passion and only love... Merlin, what drivel; why had she ever agreed to write her own vows? She was rubbish at expressing her feelings, and felt love words were a waste of time. Actions had always appealed to her senses more than any words ever could; although, she suspected that was Blaise’s influence over her... He was such a quiet, steady man. So why had he wanted them to write their own damn vows?

“Um, Hermione?”

Glancing over at Harry, she gave the seating chart he’d been working on a thoughtful frown. “Oh no, Harry, you can’t put Blaise’s grandparents there.” He had the elderly Mr. and Mrs. Zabini nestled between Neville and Seamus, at the table that should have been strictly members of the crew.

“Oh, that,” Harry shrugged. “Zabini put them there, not me. But do you want Ginny up at the head table with Malfoy?”

“I suppose so,” she grumbled, although it wasn’t so much for having Ginny join them at the head table, than for having Malfoy, the best man, along with Snape, Baddock, and Flint there as well. Slytherins in her wedding party... She shuddered. Blaise and Millie didn’t count, of course, since they were the most un-Slytherin-like Slytherins she’d ever encountered. “Just don’t put her next to Padma or Parvati.”

Blaise, you are my greatest passion and only love. Before these witnesses, our closest friends - closest friends, ha! – and family, I take you into my life, as you are already in my heart. – Good Merlin, she was making herself gag – So much between us is left unsaid, our minds knowing what is too powerful to express in mere words. Yet now, on our wedding day, I find I can say the very thoughts that had before only found their way to the surface in glances; in the closeness we’ve shared over the years. I love you, Blaise. I will always love you, for the length of our lives and all that comes after. – Oh, for crap’s sake, now she was crying.

“Hermione, are you alright?”

“Of course,” she choked out, wiping futilely at the tears that were trailing down her cheeks, unable to stem their flow.

Harry hopped out of his chair and circled round to her, pulling her up and into his arms.

“I’m fine,” she sniffled into his shirt. Yes, she was fine and, apparently, incredibly susceptible to drivel. After a few minutes, she drew herself away and gave her best friend a fond, watery smile. “Tell the boys you can wear your stupid outfits,” she said finally, her voice thick with tears. “And Neville can sing The Maid on the Main.”

“Really?”

Hermione nodded. “Really. But please don’t give Ron a cutlass.”

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