Work Text:
3615 Doge Ct, Nashville Tennessee, October 20, 2020
Hermione Granger stood in her bathroom, applying the last bit of makeup for her date with her fiance, Draco Malfoy, a lawyer specializing in Mergers and Acquisitions. She was grateful when he said to dress casually, she wasn’t sure she would be able to wear her Little Black Dress without feeling self-conscious, especially with him still somewhere out there.
Him was a man named Cormac McLaggen. Hermione was an up-and-coming country singer, her songs finding themselves in the rotation on SiriusXM The Highway, and one of them was even a Highway Find. She reasoned Cormac had attended a concert she played at, but she wasn’t sure which one. She had finished a summer stadium tour as a supporting act to Florida-Georgia Line last year, so she supposed it was in one of those cities. No matter where he saw her, shortly after, she started getting messages on her social media pages. Most of them were typical thirsty male fare: “Beautiful” “So so sexy” “I thought the moon only appears at night, but you are the morning moon.” That one, from a man in Saudi Arabia, made her roll her eyes, yet appreciate the poetry.
It changed from something she’d laugh with her friend Ginny Weasley over Facetime and a bottle of chardonnay when Cormac started posting. A picture she posted of a live gig at The Bluebird Cafe had him commenting “Beautifull, I wish was as close to your breasts as you’re guitar.” Ginny, ever the faithful wingwoman, jumped in the comments right after with a picture that had “A condom would have prevented this post” as the text.
But it got worse. Mail sent to her recording studio, the contents getting more and more lewd with every letter sent. She would get DMs from him, a certain male organ, at attention, having pride of place, with “I bet I’d feel good inside u,” the most disgusting and lamentably memorable of many. Dozens of emails sent to her agent every day, requesting a one-on-one meeting, each one becoming more unhinged as the agent ignored them. It was all reported to Metro Nashville Police, the United States Postal Inspection Service, and the local FBI field office. Restraining orders were discussed, but despite the rather unique name, McLaggen didn’t seem to exist. Anywhere. His Facebook profile picture was an anime character, and the page was set to private. Hermione was determined to keep playing live gigs, even with increased security. Cormac would not win.
Amid the upheaval and stress caused by this deranged fan, she met Draco, in the Guitar Center near their homes, of all places. In Music City, everybody plays. They hit it off immediately. Draco telling the tale of how he left Blue Blood Boston for Vanderbilt Law School, and consequently falling in love with the city. Hermione admitting how scared she was to move from a town of a little over one thousand in eastern Wisconsin, to the largest city in Tennessee. They talked about their parents; Hermione’s father was a Wisconsin State Trooper, her mother a homemaker. Draco’s parents movers and shakers in the Boston financial scene. Hermione was an only child. So was Draco. They both, to no surprise, wanted multiple children. They went for coffee at a shop across from the Vanderbilt campus; visited the Cheekwood Estate, where they shared their first kiss in the Japanese Gardens. They took a trip to Boston, visiting the USS Constitution, Faneuil Hall, and spending a day in Provincetown on Cape Cod. She won over Narcissa Malfoy, which was no small feat. Even though Narcissa styled herself as a “champion of the arts,” a country-western singer on the arm of her son was not something she anticipated ever happening. It was Hermione’s down-to-earth personality, and the unconditional love she had for Draco that carried the day. He managed to surprise her in Milwaukee, the last city on her tour as a supporting act for Jason Aldean. They snuck out of her hotel and visited the Milwaukee Art Museum and marveled at the collection and the building’s architecture. She took him to her hometown, Oakfield, Wisconsin, a village of little more than a thousand people, where a four-way stop sign controlled the main intersection. He observed the sacred tradition of Meeting the Parents. More importantly, over glasses of whiskey, and with the girls away in Fond du Lac, her father gave his blessing.
And so it was, on a clear August night, with the Sturgeon Moon bathing the Parthenon in moonglow, he got down on one knee and asked those Four Important Words. Of course, Hermione said “yes.” And, of course, it was featured on her social media, where one Cormac McLaggen saw it, an undeserved rage building up inside him. How dare he! How dare she! Didn’t she know she belonged to him? Didn’t she know what she did to him when he saw her on the stage at Ford Field? He was going to convince her she was his, and only his, even if it killed him. He began to form a plan in his head, a plan that made total sense to his deranged mind.
He waited until she posted a reel on her Instagram. It showed her pool and her backyard, along with the yards of her neighbors. He knew she lived in Nashville, as did the majority of country singers, to be close to “the scene” and their record labels. Like Ahab chasing his white whale, he spent countless hours trawling Google Maps looking for a property that matched the characteristics shown in the reel. One day, Hermione unwittingly made it easy for him. She posted another reel of her driving through her neighborhood, promoting a new release. In the clip, he noticed street signs, and searched those in Maps. He had a cross street at the very least. Now he could plan travel. He sold all of his possessions save for clothes, his beat-up F150, and a cheap quadcopter drone. He experienced another stroke of luck when an Air BnB was available near where he suspected Hermione lived. More importantly, there was a creek that ran behind the properties in that neighborhood, perfect for skulking around. In September, he left Windsor, Ontario, for the last time.
Hermione turned on her phone, and tapped on “Draco.” He answered after a few rings. “Hey you.”
“Hi babe.”
“Getting ready for our date?”
“Yeah, just finishing up, got my bag packed. Where’re we going?”
“It’s a secret, hon.”
“Oh, you’ll blindfold me?”
“If you want, but I figured you’d want to watch the journey.”
“You know how I love guessing games.”
“Heh. I should be there in ten, fifteen minutes. Love you.”
“Okay, see you soon, love you, bye. Oh! Draco.”
“Yeah?”
“Be careful, the neighbors are saying there’s some weird guy creeping around.”
“Okay, love you, bye.”
“Bye.” She ended the call, and resumed getting ready.
When Cormac arrived in Nashville, the first thing he did was drive around the neighborhood of his AirB&B, in order to get acquainted with the surroundings. He sent the drone up after a week of cloudy skies and rain. When it arrived four hundred feet above Doge Place, he couldn’t believe his luck. Above 3615, a smaller home abutting a culverted creek, he spotted through the camera attached to the drone a woman in the backyard swimming pool. Zooming in, he saw his prize. Hermione Granger, floating face-up in a bikini. Captain Ahab had found his Moby Dick. Being high noon, the drone was directly in front of the sun, there was no danger of it being noticed. He recorded for a few minutes, then recovered the drone. He would enjoy watching that video. For the next few weeks, he’d enjoy the area, visit Music Row, the Grand Ol’ Opry, and memorize the route from his rental to Hermione’s house. On October 20th, he left the vacation rental with a spring in his step. It was time to take Hermione Granger back.
Hermione had finished her makeup, pulled on a University of Wisconsin hoodie over a Fender t-shirt, and threw a couple sets of lingerie into her carry-on, perfectly sized for a weekend getaway. She zipped it shut and rolled it into the dining room, next to a vintage cupboard she bought at the local Habitat for Humanity ReStore. A knock sounded at the door. Gleefully, she skipped over to open it. Turning the knob, she went to pull it open-and was shoved back by an overwhelming force, knocking down a pedestal lamp, breaking the bulb in the process, and her into her plants. She looked, shocked and frozen with fear, upon the visage of Cormac McLaggen.
Draco lived on Franklin Pike, about ten minutes south of Hermione, although he could do it in seven, depending on the speed traps. He turned onto Woodmont Boulevard, but a police car was blocking off Lealand Lane. “Accident a block down, you’ll have to go down to Granny White.” Grumbling, Draco accepted the fateful detour.
She looked at him, fear in her eyes. A moon-like face, with a buzzcut a Marine could love. An overhanging gut hid behind a flannel shirt whose buttons were doing yeoman’s duty in concealing the ugliness. He smiled, exposing a mouth full of yellow and rotting teeth. “Hey baby,” he purred. “Let Cormac help you up.” He reached a meaty hand down towards her, which she ignored for the lamp beside her. She grabbed it, the pole knocking his outstretched hand aside, and jammed the broken bulb into his neck. The electrical shock stunned him, but did not knock him out completely. “YOU BITCH,” he roared, as he stumbled back into the door, putting a considerable dent into it. She grabbed the pot holding her recently deceased Dracaena and chucked it at him, hitting him in the chest. Scrambling to her feet, she made for her room. Despite his bulk and poor fitness, Cormac recovered quickly, following right behind her. He managed to apply enough force on her back to force her onto the bed. She quickly turned onto her back, facing him. He displayed a sickly smile, a smile that would haunt her for years to come. “It’s okay, you’re just playing hard to get.” His voice dropped to a sinister whisper. “My favorite kind of foreplay.” As he moved to undo his belt and fly, Hermione reached behind her, fighting to uncover her grandfather’s 20-gauge shotgun she kept on a rack alongside the mattress, under the sheets. Cormac leaned forward, his hands reaching for the fly on her jeans, about to commit the unthinkable. She kicked him under his chins, buying herself enough time to gain a firm grip on the stock and bring it over her head, swinging the muzzle to bear. Cormac had recovered from the kick and found himself staring down the barrel of a shotgun, Hermione’s determined and furious stare just out of focus. She pulled the trigger.
Draco finally pulled onto the tiny stub of Doge Court, behind an F-150 whose better days were ten years ago. He stepped out, holding the bouquet that was resting on the front passenger seat. Locking his 4Runner, he walked towards Hermione’s house. “BLAM!” A shot sounded from the house, where her bedroom was. He threw away the bouquet and sprinted for the front door. “HERMIONE! HERMIONE!” The shotgun blast and his screaming roused the neighbors. “Was that a gunshot?” “Oh my god, it’s the girl! Call nine one-one!” He shoved open the door, broken by a 400-pound mass of humanity crashing onto it earlier. Barely perceiving the damage around him, he sprinted for her room. Rounding the corner, he saw Hermione, who hastily lowered the gun upon seeing him, her face bearing the scars of an intense physical confrontation. Slipping on a was that a mask?, he stepped over the body, and rushed towards her, pushing the shotgun aside, and wrapped her in a comforting embrace, as a cacophony of sirens and disco strobe blue lights descended upon the scene.
The ensuing investigation revealed that Cormac had front-row seats to her performance at Ford Field in Detroit, and that he became infatuated with her since. The FBI and Metro Nashville Police searched the truck and the AirBnB. They found a toolbag in the truck, containing a roll of duct tape, a length of clothesline, and a bottle of liquid sleeping medicine. At the vacation rental, they found his laptop, the drone, and personal effects. What they found on the laptop caused Hermione to cancel an upcoming tour and enter into intensive therapy. Pictures of her property from the air, including the picture of her floating in the pool were in a file titled “My Love.” Knowing that a monster had invaded her privacy caused the couple to sell their homes and move to a property in Lebanon, Tennessee, that coincidentally had an indoor pool.
The Nashville District Attorney’s Office held a press conference thereafter, in which they detailed the investigation and concluded that Hermione had acted in self-defense and that no further action would be taken.
EIGHT MONTHS LATER
Cathedral of the Incarnation, Nashville
“...Since it is your intention to enter the covenant of Holy Matrimony, join your right hands and declare your consent before God and his Church.”
Hermione, in her mother’s wedding gown, white, with a lace top and bodicework, and an ankle-length hem, joined her hands with Draco’s, in a light grey linen suit with a white shirt and grey tie. Both had unshed tears in their eyes as the priest continued.
“Draco, do you take Hermione to be your wife? Do you promise to be faithful to her, in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, to love her and honor her all the days of her life?”
Draco, with a lump in his throat, answered, “I do.”
The priest turned to Hermione, wearing a watery smile.
“Hermione, do you take Draco to be your husband? Do you promise to be faithful to him, in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, to love him and honor him all the days of his life?”
Hermione, choked up, answered, “I do.”
The priest replied, in the order of the Mass: “May the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, the God of Jacob, the God who joined together our first parents in paradise, strengthen and bless in Christ the consent you have declared before the Church, so that what God joins together, no one may put asunder.” He acknowledged those assembled. “Let us bless the Lord.”
“Thanks be to God.”
The priest then gestured to the ringbearer, Teddy, who approached with the rings on a small pillow. Making the Sign of the Cross, the priest recited the blessing. “May the Lord bless these rings, which you will give to each other as a sign of love and fidelity.”
“Amen.”
He sprinkled the rings with holy water, then took one and gave it to Draco. He took the ring, a petite yellow 18 karat gold band with a row of fifteen round diamonds set on top, and, his hands slightly trembling, placed it on her finger. “Hermione, receive this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”
The priest then took the other ring, ruffling Teddy’s hair in the process, and gave it to Hermione. With tears running down her face, hands also trembling, she took her ring, same as hers except for the diamonds, and placed it on Draco’s finger, reciting “Draco, receive this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”
After the Intentions of the Faithful, the Presentation of Gifts, and the recitation of the Lord’s Prayer, the couple knelt before the altar. The priest approached and stood in front of them, and held his right hand over them and recited a blessing.
“ O God, who by your mighty power created all things out of nothing, and, when you had set in place the beginnings of the universe, formed man and woman in your own image, making the woman an inseparable helpmate to the man, that they might no longer be two, but one flesh, and taught that what you were pleased to make one must never be divided; O God….”
Hermione, kneeling next to her husband, head bent down, started to space out. Maybe it was the corset, maybe it was the August heat. Maybe it was hormones and a famished sex drive. Since the day they set a date, Draco had roomed with his best friend (and Best Man) Theo, who, coincidentally, helped with the fallout from the Event. She was alone in that home of theirs in Lebanon until this week, when everybody in the wedding party booked rooms in the hotel across the street, except Draco, who just checked in last night. She would do her damndest to convince him to spend the night at home tonight, even if they had to bribe someone to be a designated driver.
“...joined together in Marriage, who ask to be strengthened by your blessing. Send down on them the grace of the Holy Spirit and pour your love into their hearts, that they may remain faithful in the Marriage covenant. May the grace of love and peace abide in your daughter Hermione, and let her always follow the example of those holy women whose praises are sung in the Scriptures. May her husband…”
Draco knelt next to his wife, head bent down, adrenaline making every cell of his body buzz at a higher frequency. It was actually happening. He was actually going to marry his best friend, to spend forever with her. The only forever he looked forward to. He didn’t know what he would have done if that monster succeeded in carrying out his mission of evil, and taking her life in the process. They saw the notes on that thing’s computer. They saw the journals he wrote, seized in a search warrant by Canadian police. Draco was acutely aware for the last eight months, just how lucky he was. He hoped to remind her every day for the rest of their lives.
“...And now, Lord, we implore you: may these your servants hold fast to the faith and keep your commandments; made one in the flesh, may they be blameless in all they do; and with the strength that comes from the Gospel, may they bear true witness to Christ before all; may they be blessed with children, and prove themselves virtuous parents, who live to see their children’s children. And grant that, reaching at last together the fullness of years for which they hope, they may come to the life of the blessed in the Kingdom of Heaven. Through Christ our Lord.”
A squeeze of the hand. A cheeky glance, that said it all. We did it. They responded with one voice. “Amen.”