His feet moved on their own accord; he was sure, for he knew where he ended up could not possibly have been through any fault of his own. Dumbledore had told him not to dwell on dreams years previous, and therefore, the reasons he was here had to be purely based on lingering dejection and minimal curiosity. Plus, his best friend needed support, and he always aided his friends.
But try as he might, he couldn't help but feel a tad slighted at times like these. More specifically, times when others got on with their lives, and he was left to smile for pictures. Times when his teeth clenched and his hand gripped his wand a little too tightly. Times when he watched his friends smile and sway across the dance floor. Times when he was stuck talking to Uncle Remkin, who made bad jokes about You-Know-Who and told stories of his generation. Times when the people he loved found others to love. Times when he could nearly see his relationships with those involved vanish. Times when he was reminded that he had hardly accomplished the things he had always wished for as an oblivious kid growing up on Privet Drive.
Mrs. Weasley hugged him; she did that often, as if she knew that her smell of freshly baked ginger snaps and fire whiskey could sooth him. Often, he found himself wondering if she was skilled at Leglimency because she seemed to predict exactly when he needed a hug. He was very grateful for this.
A voice sounded behind him, high and squeaky, the same voice his Aunt Petunia was prone to using when he accidently smudged dirt on her clean sofa after a long day working in the garden: He never enjoyed it much. He and Mrs. Weasley turned to watch George toppling over a lawn chair with a blonde occupant. Instantly, Bill helped his bride off of the lawn and sent sparks at George that made his hair stand on end. Mrs. Weasley scoffed at the scene, patted him on the arm, and smiled, "So glad you're here, dear. Ron wasn't sure if you'd come," as she walked away to remedy the situation.
He watched from his spot on the Burrow's gravel drive as Mrs. Weasley swatted at her family and ushered them back into a sense of family semblance. His heart panged with the feeling that he may forever be experiencing family from a distance, behind an invisible barrier. His only true memories of his family were tainted by the tragic loss of the people captured in them.
He'd never know how long he stared wistfully at the handful of Weasley's scattered about the yard hanging lights and trapping white ribbons in the trees, but by the time he realized what he was doing, he had sat down and Ron had joined him. They were both silently rolling stray rocks around in their hands. He stared at the back of Ron's downcast head. He swallowed so hard that it hurt.
"She'll be happy you came, Mate." Were the words Ron finally spoke. He couldn't say anything in return. He opted, instead, for a brief nod at Ron's small, supportive smile. They stayed like that for a while, both consumed in thoughts they'd have rather not thought. He noticed that the garden had grown quiet and the sun had moved farther up into the sky. He supposed it was nearing time.
"This isn't my idea of a happy occasion." He declared, finally standing. He brushed off the dirt sticking to his pants before offering his hand out to help Ron up.
Ron scoffed. "S'not mine either! Mum would kill me if I nipped out now though. Not to mention what Gin-" Ron never finished his sentence; the words died in his mouth at the pained expression on his face. Ron didn't need to state it.
Hagrid interrupted them with his booming voice and shadow casting them into darkness. Ron stayed for a few moments to greet Hagrid, but he made a quick exit soon after. He understood; he didn't really want to be around himself either. Hagrid lead them to the chairs in the garden which were, unsurprisingly, filled with witches and wizards of all sorts.
He had been a member of the wizarding world for nearly ten years, and yet, he still found himself in awe of the people around him. It still seemed completely unlikely that he was the most famous wizard in the world. He wondered briefly if he'd ever feel older than the day Hagrid picked him up from a shack that his uncle had, ironically, banished them to so to escape the "freaks." But then, as he always did, he remembered the long days of the war and the harshness of losing loved ones and swallowed his previous thoughts. He had always been much older than he really was.
People kept away from him today. They let him sit quietly with his thoughts in the seat next to Hagrid. People rarely kept away from him, but he assumed he didn't look as welcoming and heroic with a bitter, depressed expression covering his features. He figured he had to look pretty awful for Hagrid not to try to talk to him or force-feed him rock cakes.
Victorie led the procession, toddling and stumbling her way down the aisle. Mrs. Weasley flashed by, too, beaming madly from ear to ear, which, if possible, made his heart ache even worse. He chanced a look at the front of the garden where under a canopy, stood a scrawny, tall man shifting back and forth. He knew the basics of this man: he was a Healer, his parents both lived abroad, and he was in Ravenclaw during his years at Hogwarts. There was nothing remarkable about the man to cause him to have a swelling hate for the man.
Except one minor detail.
She walked so effortlessly down the aisle. Next to him, Hagrid blew his nose so fiercely that the ground below them shook. He hardly registered this. No, when he would remember this day, he wouldn't remember anything except for her walking down the aisle with her red hair pinned up, a smile spread across her beautiful features, and the small, whisper smile she aimed at him before she joined the Healer Ravenclaw underneath the canopy.
They held hands and pledged their love for each other. Hagrid sobbed, Ron kept coughing through everything the Healer said, Mr. Weasley let out a whimper sometime near the end, but no one objected to the union.
A lone, hot tear escaped from his eyes; he quickly whipped it away. He whispered his best wishes to them as they proceeded back down the aisle, together, as man and wife. He swallowed, realizing his dream shown in the Mirror of Erised was now unobtainable.
All he had ever wanted was a family. A true family.
He skipped the reception party that night.
A drabble, I'm not even sure it made perfect sense, but I was dreadfully bored. Please review.