Together We're Harmony Chapter 8. (Patreon)

Content Warnings: Nothing.

“No,” Hermione said, studying her reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirror. The wedding dress the designer had picked for her was too stuffy and boring, and would feel more at home in a Regency Era Wedding than at her collaring ceremony.

“Mione,” Ginny said from her position on the couch so helpfully provided in the large trial room. “Not that we don’t appreciate the free champagne and desserts-” She plucked an éclair from the glass stand on the table in front of her. “But we have been at this for three hours. It’s not even your real wedding dress.”

“No, this one is much more important,” Hermione muttered, turning back to study the white dress she was wearing with a critical eye to see if she could make it work. She quickly realized she couldn’t. She stepped down from the footstool and walked over to Luna for her help in taking it off.

“Hermione is right. You only get collared once in your life. It has to be special. And something comfortable, so she can wear it regularly.”

“Why would Hermione want to wear her wedding… collaring dress regularly?” Ginny asked, raising an eyebrow.

“What if she wants to roleplay as Harry’s pure, innocent bride again? She will need the dress for that. Rolf and I have this wonderful scene where I am his virginal-” Ginny’s splutter cut the blonde off mid-sentence, and Hermione chuckled. She was far too used to Luna’s complete and utter lack of understanding of boundaries to be fazed by anything she said.

“You uh- We got why Mione needs a comfortable dress, Luna. You don’t need to share private details about your sex life to prove your point.” Hermione’s chuckle turned into laughter at the sight of Ginny’s red face.

Out of the three of us, who’d have pegged her to be the most vanilla of the bunch?

“Oh, it isn’t really private.” Luna soldiered on as she helped Hermione out of the dress. “One time, we did it in a forest. I was Red Riding Hood, and Rolf was the Big Bad Wolf. He huffed, he puffed, and once he caught me, we fuc-”

“We get the point sweetie,” Hermione said with a grin, deciding to intervene before Ginny spontaneously combusted. Her idea of ‘exciting sex’ was doing it with Dean in the Changing Rooms after a match. Hermione doubted she could handle hearing Luna recount her experience with Primal Play in a literal forest. She made a mental note to ask Luna to finish the story when they were alone.

“I would offer you my dress, but I still haven’t repaired the damage to it from that night,” Luna finished with a shrug. Hermione suspected the last sentence had been the point of the entire story, and she bent to kiss Luna’s cheek, overcome with a sudden affection for her friend.

“Don’t worry darling, we’ll find a good dress.” She had booked the store for the entire day, so it wasn’t as if they were on a time limit. They’d go through every dress in the store if needed, but she would find the right one for the ceremony.

“What are you looking for?” Ginny asked. She climbed off the couch and walked over to the racks of dresses the employees had rolled into the changing room, rifling through the selection on offer in between occasional sips of bubbly.

“I don’t know,” Hermione answered, throwing her hands up in frustration. “I thought I’d know the one when I see it. I want something innocent yet sinful, something that is the perfect fusion of conservative and slutty, something that conveys the purity of my love and the depth of my desire for him.”

“You need a poem, not a dress,” Ginny replied wryly, walking over to a rack of dresses that had been tucked away in a corner, obscured by the other racks.

“A dress that makes Harry want to skip the entire ceremony and go straight to the honeymoon,” Luna added, studying a lacy piece. It was too lacy for her taste, and far too delicate to be reused for ‘roleplay’. Harry would rip through that dress in one night.

“That would be helpful too,” Hermione said, turning to study her profile in the mirror. She reached out to press the buzzer that would summon Madame Deveraux, deciding to ask her to pull more of her dresses out of storage. There was nothing on offer that she had liked so far.

“How about this?”

Hermione turned from the red buzzer on the small stand next to the mirror, looking at Ginny emerge from between two racks with a dress in her hands.

“Try it.”

Hermione nodded, pulling on the dress with the aid of her two friends. She sighed when she turned to study herself in the mirror, knowing instantly that the gown she wore was the one. Thin shoulder straps and a plunging neckline combined with the transparent bust that used strategically placed swirls of lace to preserve her modesty made for the perfect innocent but sinful look. The sweeping train, a dream of hers since she had been a child only reinforced the idea that the dress was the one for her.

“The veil, stockings, and hand gloves,” Ginny said, holding up parts of the gown that she still held in her hands.

“No need. This is the one. Thank you for finding it for me Gin,” Hermione said, beaming at her friend. She ran her hands down the gown before turning to study her profile in the mirror again. She rotated on the raised stool, studying the dress from every angle, trying to find any flaws with it. She could find none.

“Thank you,” she repeated herself as she climbed down from the stool, leaning forward to kiss Ginny’s cheek. She had picked out her clothes for her first date with Harry, it seemed only fitting for fate to let her be the one to pick out the perfect wedding gown for her.

“Still, try them on. Make sure they’re a good fit. Harry’s probably going to prefer you wearing all of this with your dress, and it’s a good idea to make sure they’re a comfortable fit because I have a feeling they’ll stay on during the wedding night,” Ginny teased.

“Ooh. Sex is so much better in stockings and heels. I remember this one time in Milan, me and Rolf-” Luna spoke from the opposite side of the room, having wandered over to go through the bridesmaid’s dresses on offer.

“Luna, darling?” Hermione asked, giggling.

“Hmm?”

“Why don’t you share that story at my Bachelorette party?”

“Okay!”

Hermione turned back to Ginny and winked.

“Please tell me there’ll be alcohol at your Bachelorette,” the blushing redhead mumbled, helping fix the veil in Hermione’s hair.

“Open bar. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to. It’ll just be me, Luna, and Lav sharing raunchy stories and exchanging sex toys as gag gifts.”

“Out of all of us, I wouldn’t have pegged myself as the tamest when it came to sex,” Ginny groaned.

“Oh come on, you and Dean are an inspiration. Is there any flat surface, closet, or classroom in Hogwarts you didn’t christen with him? The two of you are adventurous enough.”

“I’m not ‘have sex in a forest in stockings and heels’ adventurous,” Ginny said. She helped her pull on the stockings before stepping back, letting the bride-to-be study her final appearance in the mirror.

Perfection, Hermione thought, reaching out to trace her reflection with her fingers. She looked beautiful. She felt powerful.

I’m a princess, deserving of all the love and affection in the world.

It was everything she had dreamed of as a little girl and more. She tried to ignore the one small detail that would be different from the picture eleven-year-old Hermione had painted in her mind of her wedding day. In all honesty, the actual ceremony would be very different than what she had thought of. But the groom was the same, and so were the emotions. The only thing missing was her parents.

It’s not like I could have invited them to attend my collaring anyways, she thought, angrily rubbing her eyes to drive away the tears welling up in them. The stress of planning the perfect ceremony had turned her into an emotional wreck.

Harry had promised her that her parents would be in attendance during the second, more traditional wedding they planned to hold for the rest of their friends and family. She had no idea how he would manage that, but he had never broken a promise to her during their time together. So, she held on hope, even if it was a fool’s hope. With her luck, they were probably happily living in Australia, free of the daughter that had never been anything more than trouble. She doubted they’d even agree to come back, not after what she had done to them.

“You alright?” Ginny asked softly.

“Yeah, it’s all the flowers. I’ll grab a fresh batch of allergy potions from the apothecary today. It slipped my mind with everything going on,” Hermione answered, coughing quietly to sell her lie.

“This room does look like a goddamned flower shop.” She could see Ginny nod in agreement through the corner of her eyes. She straightened as the redhead rotated in place, counting out the vases dotted around the room.

“Madame Deveraux might argue that it adds character to an otherwise drab and pedestrian changing room.”

“Then I’ll be happy to tell the pompous snob that all it does is give brides like you stuffy noses far too close to the big day,” Ginny answered with a chuckle. The amused look on her face turned to horror. Hermione raised an eyebrow questioningly, only to be told to turn around.

She bit back a laugh once she turned. Luna had emerged from her hunt with a frumpy mustard-colored dress. “Luna, what is that?”

“Our bridesmaid dress,” the blonde answered with a shrug.

“Luna, I am not wearing that. Hermione, I will turn up to the bloody ceremony in my underwear if you choose that as our dress,” Ginny swore, taking a step away from Luna, as if the very presence of the dress was making her physically uncomfortable. “And you better not show that to Lav, because she will kill you if you try to bring that monstrosity within ten feet of her.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Luna asked, confused.

“It’s quite possibly the ugliest dress on the planet honey. And you don’t have to worry Gin, there’s no dress code for the bridesmaids. You can wear whatever you want to,” Hermione answered, pulling the veil free from her hair.

“I thought bridesmaids had to wear ugly dresses to make sure they didn’t outshine the bride. That’s why I picked this one. As you said, it’s the ugliest, hence, the perfect choice for us.”

“One, I am relieved to hear that you think the bloody dress is hideous too,” Ginny said, flopping down on the couch and picking up her glass from the table. “Two, we could wear the prettiest dresses in the world and we still wouldn’t outshine Hermione Granger.”

“That isn’t true. Have you looked at Lavender, Gin?” Hermione asked, working on removing the various parts of the wedding gown. She could not risk it getting soiled in any way three days before the ceremony, especially since she had no backup dress.

“Have you noticed the way Potter looks at you, Mione?” Ginny shot back. “He looks at you like you’re a goddess.”

“She couldn’t have noticed,” Luna interjected. “Harry only gives her his secret ‘I can’t believe she loves me’ look when he thinks she’s not looking.”

Hermione blushed, turning to find her blouse and jeans in the piles of dresses and clothes dumped on the couch and stools. She had packed the dress in the box she had been provided, and would drop it off at the counter with a check. Madame Deveraux had assured her that her choice would be cleaned, prepared, and delivered to the address she gave them in a day.

Rationally, she knew Harry loved her very much, but the thought of having a physical reminder of that love on her for the rest of her life excited her beyond all measure.

“Ready to go? Or do you want to finish the bottle before we leave?”

“Nah, let’s not give the good Madame any more reason to dislike me. I thought she’d have a heart attack, the way she kept staring at my ripped jeans.”

“I think your ripped jeans look very nice.”

“Thank you, Luna. Make sure to repeat that in front of the woman outside.”

“Come on ladies,” Hermione said, buttoning up her blouse. “We still have to pick up the penis-shaped cake and muffins Lavender ordered. She will kill us if we’re late to the party.”

Notes:

One, writing Luna is always fun. Two, the next chapter will be the actual ceremony, and it is going to be amazing. It's turning out to be a banger if I say so myself.