The Silver Envelope

Goodbyes forgone

Draco strolled lazily across the shimmering sand, watching the photographer walk away from Hermione. As they passed one another, Draco gave him an imperceptible nod.
"It's about time for the speeches," Draco drawled as he approached them. "I can get us all some champagne, if you like."
Weasley scoffed at him and stalked away, muttering curses under his breath. Draco watched him go. The second he was out of sight, Draco crossed the space between them in a single bound, catching Hermione's hand in his. He inspected her carefully, gently skimming his fingers over her wrist, ignoring the pleasant softness of her skin.
"Did he hurt you?" Draco said through his teeth.
Hermione blinked up at him.
"You saw that?" she said shakily. In fact, she seemed to be slightly trembling all over.
Draco wasn't sure which he wanted to do more: hold and comfort her, or chase down Weasley and
make him regret his very existence.
He nodded.
Hermione swallowed, stepping back from him.
"I'm fine," she said quietly, not meeting his eyes. "It's nothing."
Icy dread slipped into his stomach, sickening him.
"Is this the first time he's ever been violent, Hermione?" Draco asked, his voice just above a whisper.
Hermione merely walked away, heading for the champagne fountain.
Draco's fists balled. He stood there for several moments, attempting to rein in his temper.
He would ask her again later.
And if she said no,
he would remove Weasley's filthy hands from his body.
Perhaps he would use Sectumsempra. He would never forget the pain Potter's dark curse had caused him in his sixth year. Or perhaps he would simply rip them off with his bare hands. Either way, Weasley would never touch her again.
It was several minutes before Draco was able to breathe normally again.
Arthur Weasley had started off the speeches. He was halfway done speaking by the time Draco had procured a flute of champagne for himself and used his alcohol evaporation spell.
Hermione had gone to stand near Ginny and Harry while she listened, so Draco didn't follow her.
She was safe there, in the middle of the crowd of onlookers. Even if Weasley had gone to stand
near them as well, he wasn't likely to try to hurt her again at the moment.
"I got all the shots you wanted, Mr. Malfoy," came a whisper behind him.
Draco turned to look at the photographer with disdain.
"You cut it a little close, don't you think?" Draco said quietly.
"She's alright. Just a bit shaken," the photographer said with a shrug.
Draco's temper flared again. Only his considerable Occlumency training kept him from losing his grip on sanity. Quickly, he held out his hand and took the roll of film from the photographer, exchanging it for a fat bag of coins.
"For your silence as well," Draco said, giving him a glare of warning.
"Of course, Mr. Malfoy," the photographer said. He pocketed the gold and slunk away.
Draco slipped the roll of film into his trouser pocket, thinking.
What was on that film had the enormous potential to both help and harm Hermione. He would have to take great care to make sure it was all spun the right way. He had someone in mind, but he needed to send an owl out as soon as possible, preferably tonight, if it was to run on the heels of the main wedding coverage.
After many cheers and much gulping of champagne, Arthur Weasley stepped down and his son took his place. Draco refrained from rolling his eyes. Of course, since Weasley was Potter's best mate and Ginny's closest brother, he had to give a speech. His eyes still looked a bit glazed from drinking, but the anger had left his face. He'd had enough time to calm down, then. Draco wasn't sure he'd ever recover from his own rage.
Weasley's speech was predictable. He prattled on about when he first met the famous Harry Potter, and how Ginny had adorably fallen in love with him at first sight. In an effort to embarrass his sister, he produced a singing get-well card Ginny had sent to Potter in his second year when he'd been confined to the hospital wing after a Quidditch accident. He opened it for everyone to hear, and the card sang shrilly for the audience to great effect. Ginny was beet red, but took it good naturedly, laughing along with everyone else.
Hermione was the last to speak. Her words were heartfelt and sweet. As she spoke, Draco felt an annoying tug in his chest. For the second time today, he was reminded of things that would never happen for him. Potter and Ginny were damned lucky to have someone like Hermione as their friend. She was...everything. Funny and beautiful and clever and brave and compassionate. It struck him as a huge injustice that Potter always got all the attention, when Hermione was right there, better than him in every possible way. Then again, perhaps she didn't want much attention.
As she finished speaking and bade everyone to raise their glasses to the newly married couple, her eye caught Draco's. He raised his glass to her, and took a sip.
She looked as if she knew that he was not drinking to Potter.
Hagrid then rolled out a frothy cake that was nearly as tall as the half-giant himself was. While Potter and Ginny cut into it, Draco slipped away. He was beginning to tire of the fuss.
Several folded parasols had been left in a pile at the bottom of the cliff, waiting for anyone who wanted to leave the bay. The high, rocky sides of the cliffs around them were beginning to make
Draco feel caged in, so he snatched one up and popped it open.
"Are you leaving, then?"
Draco turned to see Hermione walking up to him.
"Couldn't I just need to use the facilities?" Draco asked with a raised brow.
Hermione pursed her lips as she drew closer.
"I suppose. But I have a feeling you're the type to leave a function without saying goodbye," she said.