A/N: One-shot based on Speak Now by Taylor Swift. Kinda obvious if you heard the song.
Speak Now . . . Or Forever Hold Your Breath
I barged into the church quite rudely. Some of the Purebloods near the back shot me dirty looks, but I paid them no heed. Luckily, no one else seemed to see. I hid my face behind my black cloak and took a seat in the last pew.
Suddenly the wedding march starts to play, but to me it sounded like the song to a funeral. Walking down the aisle was a brunette bride dressed in a huge white wedding cake kind of dress. The bride held her head proudly as if she were on display. And in a way she kind of was. I glanced around the church, deliberately avoiding looking towards the altar where he was standing.
The bride's snooty family sat in the right front most pews. They were dressed in hideous pastels no doubt picked out by the bride herself.
The groom's family stood beautiful and prideful, his parents looked on with poker faces. His best man stood a few feet away, an expression of pain on his dark and handsome face. It was obvious he thought that this entire ceremony was wrong-just like I did. But he could do no more to stop it, even though from his countenance it was clear he wanted to.
Finally, I look to where he stood. As I gazed into his handsome face with his aristocratic features twisted into a forceful smile; he looked like the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. His muscular build was covered by a simple black robe-as if he were attending his own death. And he was. But I wondered if he knew that as well as I did. Those hypnotic and dark eyes looking down the aisle towards his bride-to-be who's not me.
In my mind, as the bride stands at the altar, I'm thinking to speak out. Tell him not to say those accursed vows. To run away. But I can't. I know it's wrong. He'd be happier with her, I try to convince myself. My heart and mind refuses to listen, telling me that he's marrying the wrong girl.
And as he stood there looking down into his bride's light green eyes, I know he's wishing they were brown. I know he wishes it were me.
The white wedding is everything and more than I could ever wish for. Purebloods, the wealthy, rich, and famous gathered at the church to witness the so-called blessed event. As the vows are recited, there is only silence and I know this is my chance.
"Speak now or forever hold your breath . . . "
I stand up taking everyone, including myself by surprise. Walking down the aisle towards the nearly married couple, I can't help feel as though this is right. This is what I should've done when he asked me all those months ago.
I can feel the glares and horrified stares burning into my back-including those of the brides' family. But that's not what I'm focused on. I only stare ahead at the groom.
I open my mouth and say:
"I know I shouldn't be here. I'm not the person that barges in unannounced. But you're not the type of person to marry the wrong girl," I pause to take a deep breath and I can feel all eyes on me, especially his urging me on. "Don't wait. Don't say a single vow. Don't say yes. Run away with me now."
And then he smiles at me and jokes, "Too much Taylor Swift, huh?"
I flush as I wait patiently for his response. He doesn't disappoint. To the horror of the bride-to-not-be, her family, and his family he rushes to my side. Wrapping his arms around me, he whispers, "I never thought you'd speak now."
Looking deep into my eyes, he brushes his lips against mine before snatching them into a gentle, sweet, and loving kiss.
Hermione Jean Granger woke up with a horrible feeling in the pit of her stomach. She took a leisurely shower even though her mind and heart was urging her to hurry-to put a stop to it. Thoughts of the impending noon were in her head.
I have to let go. It's not going to happen. Hermione marched down the stairs in her flat and made herself a cup of coffee. As she lay snuggled in her sofa with her coffee, Hermione opened the Daily Prophet.
There on the front page was an article of "THE BIGGEST WEDDING SINCE THE BOY-WHO-LIVED!"
Memories she'd tried to repress rose up and Hermione couldn't help thinking whether she was making a big mistake. She shook her head; of course nothing like in the dream would happen. After all Hermione was the one that let him go. So what right did she have to take him back now? She lost that right when she turned away from him.
"Hermione, get your ass off the couch and go stop that wedding!" commanded Ginny from the fireplace.
The brunette shook her head miserably. "I can't," she whispered.
"What the hell do you mean you can't?! You love him!"
"I gave him up."
"'Mione this is your life. Don't let anyone else tell you what to do. Especially not those two!"
"I don't know. I've lost that right."
"Hermione Jean Granger, I swear if you do not get your ass out of your flat and to that wedding so Merlin help you-"
Hermione got up and walked out of the room. She couldn't listen to Ginny right now. After all he would be better off. That's what everyone else wanted. For them to be apart. And it didn't matter that she was being torn apart from the inside.
She stood near her bed and glanced down at the broken frame on the floor. It was last December; they were kissing under the mistletoe. Ginny had caught them unaware and captured the moment perfectly. They were happy together.
And we still can be, thought Hermione as she threw on a cloak similar to the one in the dream. Apparating to the front doors of the church, Hermione hesitated. There was no turning back now.
Throwing open the doors, Hermione shouted, "Draco, don't say yes!"
Dun-dun-dun! Sequel? Prequel? Reviews?