What am I doing here? Hermione felt her legs tremble slightly as she glanced down at her dress. Fred Weasley was about to get married – and it wasn't to her. That thought sent the girl falling down onto her bed in the room that she shared with the only sister she'd ever known. Ginny was truly one of a kind. Then again, so was Angelina. Maybe that's why Fred had asked her to marry him. She was lovely, absolutely hysterical, and a loyal friend. Everything that Fred needed in a woman.
"Hermione, are you about ready?" Ginny poked her head into the room, nearly glaring at the hair on top of her head. "You're going to ruin your hair! You're a bridesmaid, Hermione. Honestly." She swiftly pulled the girl to her feet, mistaking the look of obvious pain on her face for one of guilt. Ginny giggled and gave a wave of her wand, fixing the up-do automatically. "There, no harm done."
Heading down the aisle, her arm hooked with Ron's, Hermione could hardly breathe. Fred was about to be married off. The man she'd been in love with was about to get married to someone that he loved irrevocably. He wasn't aware that by doing this, he'd send his bride's friend into a crushing heartache. How could he have been? Not even Ginny knew. No, the only person in the whole reception that knew was Harry Potter. How had he figured it out? It was something Hermione, herself, didn't know.
Angelina was beautiful. Then again, she was always beautiful. The white dress set off the contrast to her dark skin beautifully, and she reminded Hermione of a Barbie doll – a sort of muggle toy for young girls. In that moment, she looked perfect.
Hermione wasn't aware that she was crying as the couple ran down the aisle, bride swept up in the groom's arms, until a heartbroken sob wracked through her body. Everyone assumed she was happy for the couple. This was a happy cry, right? Harry was the only one to shoot the twenty year old a glance, his understanding clear on his face. Lord, if Ginny had run off with one of his friends.. Well, Harry was sure that was something he couldn't bare either.
"Come on, 'Mione." The girl glanced up, through her tears, and laid her eyes on Ronald Weasley. Her escort and best friend. She gave him a small smile and nodded, trying rather hard not to give out another sob. She had to pull herself together – today was a happy day. Fred was happy. Angelina was happy. That's all that really matters, right? Hermione didn't matter. Not today.