Rise and Die!

Summary: Draco and Hermione wake up one beautiful sunny morning to discover that they're married, thanks to a really crazy night of drinking.

Disclaimer: I don't own… blah, blah… you get the point.

A/N: maybe a one-shot glimpse, maybe a story. Tell me what you think.

Hermione sleepily yawned, as she opened her eyes to the streaming sun. The window was in such a strategic place, she thought happily—the sun's warmth was very comfortable. The bed was cool and the burgundy sheets were satin… mmm, she thought, how nice. What a beautiful way to wake up.

Until she remembered that her room definitely did not have burgundy satin sheets.

Come to think of it, her room did not have a strategically placed window either.

Conclusion: this was not her room.

Suddenly wide awake, Hermione sat up in bed quickly; so quickly that her head throbbed and for a moment she could not see. She bolted out of the bed, trying to ignore this vicious headache, and looked around the room. It was a beautiful, expensive looking room—like… like a honeymoon suite almost… except it seemed to be in someone's home. The walls were cream, matching expertly with the bed sheets, and the floor and dresser were mahogany wood. An ornate Persian rug was spread delicately on the wood floor. Hermione turned her attention back to the bed and her knees promptly gave way.

Sinking to the floor, Hermione was horrified to see that there was a body in her bed. A living, breathing, body.

A body! A body of a man! And if she was here, in an unfamiliar room, waking up in an unfamiliar bed next to an unfamiliar body wearing… oh, shit… unfamiliar lingerie… then something was more than definitely off. Something was very, very off.

Keep cool, Hermione reminded herself, and willed herself not to scream out loud. Slowly she tiptoed to where the man was sleeping and tried to get a good look at his face. Her head throbbed again as a painful reminder and this time Hermione knew that it wasn't just a regular old migraine—it was a first class, grade A hangover. Shit!

She took in the man's soft, wispy, blonde straight hair, pale face, pointy nose, and decided that at the moment the safest thing to do was to have a heart attack. No. That man could not be; could never be her child-hood arch nemesis! Never!

Oh, but it was, and one more glance confirmed it. Nobody else had hair like that, matched with that horrid pointy nose (well, maybe not so horrid, but for the moment, it was!) and that stupid pale body. Draco Malfoy.

Draco Malfoy!

Hermione gasped as her intelligence put things together even under the massive strain of a massive headache. This was a nice, furnished, expensive room. The man in the bed was Draco Malfoy. Thus, house must be his house. She raced to the window and looked out, and what greeted her eyes was not pleasant. Well, her subconscious reasoned, it was pleasant, awfully pleasant, but right now, nothing was good.

She noticed the expensive looking cars parked outside, the extensive grounds, the nice greenery, the beautiful gate… everything added up to the fact that she was in a mansion. A big, beautiful, sprawling mansion. Draco Malfoy's Mansion.

Aw, crap, Hermione moaned to herself, but before she could do anything else she found herself retching—in a few choice moments, Hermione had successfully vomited all over the green shrubbery directly below the room.

Wonderful. Yet another wonderful, wonderful thing to this already glorious morning.

She wanted to cry.

Hermione decided the best thing to do was to get the hell out of here before Malfoy (she shuddered) woke up. She didn't remember anything from last night, but maybe that was because her head was ready to explode should she even try to think. She wished she had her wand so she could perform the hangover spell, which thankfully Fred and George had taught her one summer at the Burrow. As quietly as possible she looked around the room, hoping to find a wand or whatever belongings she might have brought.

Just as she was peeking in one of the drawers in the dresser, she heard a shriek.

"Holy Mother of God," someone moaned and she spun around, knowing full well that Malfoy had decided to wake.

Wait. He hadn't even noticed her yet.

Then what was he on about?

"Damn head," she heard him mutter and he fumbled around the night stand next to his bed. She watched enviously as he grasped a wand and muttered the spell quickly. She decided her plan to sneak out was shot; she might as well ask him for the wand.

"Toss it here, will you," she said, trying to sound bored but it came out quite hysterically. Her tears were threatening to spill any second.

He turned his head like a rogue bludger and just stared at her for a second, before emitting a long, large, and very extensive stream of curses.

Hermione began to blush with some of the words, but really, she reminded herself, now was not the time.

Holy shit, she suddenly thought. She'd woken up in bed with the man; did she…aw, damn!

"We didn't… we didn't…" she began hesitantly. "We didn't sleep together, did we?" she asked in a low voice, hoping some higher power above, or eerily, Harry or Ron or something, did not hear her.

"Fuck," he said. "Fuck."

"That's helpful," she said, her voice still hysterical. "Malfoy! What the hell happened last night? I'm going to kill you!" she screamed, all control gone, and hurtled towards him for a second before the full force of the headache came back.

She managed to grab the wand anyway and quickly performed the spell. The world cleared itself and she looked him in the face, sure that his horror-struck expression resembled hers. "Granger," he shrieked. "I did not touch you last night! I did not touch you!"

"You better not have," she said unhappily.

His eyes grew wide when he looked at her and for a second Hermione was rather self-conscious, until he pointed at her finger and gasped, "What is that?"

Hermione hadn't even noticed. She looked at her hand and was more than horrified to find the most beautiful diamond she had ever seen on her ring finger. Now ordinarily, this would be a pleasant surprise, but not if you were waking up next to Malfoy.

"This is not yours," she cried. "Please, tell me it's not."

"You stole my mum's jewelry," he finally stated.

"I did not," she retorted, anger filling her words. "You filthy little scumbag!"

The two of them stopped mid-fight as they looked closely at the ring. It was… it was a wedding band, a sparkling, simple yet elegant wedding band.

"Shit," they said simultaneously.

"Granger," he began, his voice croaking, "I think we got married last night."

"What brings you to that conclusion?" she snapped angrily.

He put up his hands and Hermione went white as she noticed he had a matching wedding band on.

"How could this happen?" she moaned. "I haven't seen you since Hogwarts! I can't be married to you!"

"I don't know," he sighed. "I don't remember a thing from last night…except that I was at a snarky new bar."

"I was at a snarky new bar," she said suddenly. "El Coconut!"

"I must've met you there," he said glumly, and not too nicely.

"Well, where'd we go from there?" she asked. "Where'd we go?"

He shrugged. "I don't know… where do mud bloods usually go?"

"Fuck off, bastard," she yelled. "You think you can walk all over me with your name-calling; well guess what, I'm married to you!"

"Don't remind me," he snarled, but he didn't call her mud blood again.

"Okay," she said logically, although her hands were shaking. "We have to think this through. First off, where are we? I don't remember living anywhere close to you."

"We're in my house, oh genius," he snapped. "I live in West London—you must've come home with me after we got married!"

"Where would we get married?" she whispered.

"I don't know, for the hundredth time, Granger! Some random chapel, perhaps? Anyhow, we must go get an annulment immediately. Get dres—" he stopped abruptly as he looked at her lingerie.

"Where'd that come from?" he asked in a strangled voice.

"I don't know, for the hundredth time," she mimicked.

"That's definitely Pansy Parkinson's," he moaned.

"Ew, gross!" she yelled. "Get it off me! Get it off me!"

"I might've put it on you last night," he said, and Hermione noticed his face was hard with determination—willing himself not to cry, perhaps? "And anyway, it's new; she must've left it here after shopping—she's a good friend of mine, but no romantic possibilities."

"I did not have sex with you," she said, trying not to be embarrassed. "I could not have had sex with a filthy, awful…"

"Granger, I'm in my boxers, and you're in some fancy lingerie—what do you think the evidence points to?" he said.

Now it wasn't very often that Hermione refused to accept logic, especially when it was shoved in her face, but at the moment she could not. "I don't remember any of it," she said. "Not a thing."

He sighed. "I do."

She threw the pillow at him.

"Fuck, where'd I put my clothes?" she yelled at him.

He shrugged. "Get some out of the closet—this is our guest room."

"Are they clean?" she demanded.

"They're new. Fresh, expensive, and new. Something you're not used to, eh?"

"Get stuffed, Malfoy," she fretted, and stormed into the bathroom.

As she was entering the shower, she heard him call out.

"Granger, this is really bad," he began. Well no shit, she thought unhappily, until he continued – "I'm already engaged."

A/N: It's pretty short, I could keep it as a glimpse one-shot or I could turn it into a story—you tell me what you think! I'm looking over it, looks kind of miserable to me, so I doubt I'll continue, but we'll see, eh? Please review!