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Hermione stood looking out her bedroom window at the burrow. Below her, gaggles of people were scattered around the lawn. Some set up tents magically, while others chatted in their finest robes. She saw Ginny moving around tables with her wand, when she looked up to the window. Hermione jumped and left, pacing back and forth until she caught a glimpse of herself in the full length mirror. She didn't want her friend to worry.
The dress was truly gorgeous. It was the same dress Molly had worn to her wedding, and her mother before her. It hung over her shoulders,with a delicate white bodice leading to a ruffled skirt. Hermione had dreamed of a dress like this when she was little. Just like a princess, she thought.
Fluer had pinned her hair halfway up into a bun, allowing the bottom part of her hair to fall into soft curls down her back. Tonks had done her make up, with a light shimmery gold eyeshadow and simple mascara. "Less is more." She winked at her. She had never looked more beautiful.
And yet, we had never felt more worse.
Something within her was bubbling, making her anxious. Molly had said it was normal. "Oh dear, it's just pre-wedding jitters! The day I married Arthur, well... I'm just glad that dress doesn't have sweat stains all over it!"
But it was something more than just being anxious. Ron had been her best friend for seven years. They had been through so much together. So much had happened to lead her where she was today. She loved him. She loved him so much it made her whole body ache. Some nights she just laid there, staring at his sleeping form, loving every flaw and imperfection. And now, she was marrying Ronald Weasley in an hour. She was going to be Mrs. Hermione Weasley.
Just thinking the name made her get a funny taste in her mouth. She could feel herself breaking into a cold sweat. She needed to find Harry.
Harry had always been her rock. The brother she never had. When they spent the year hunting horcruxes, no matter how stressful or scared she became, he was always there. He'd tell her a joke, or simply lend his shoulder to cry on, but no matter what he was there. She needed to hear him say not to worry, that she was just overreacting.
She bolted out of the room, heading towards the upper level where his room was. Ever since Bellatrix had destroyed the previous burrow home, the Weasley's had expanded to make room for the already large family and their constant guests. She lifted the bottom of her dress as she practically ran up the stairs, finally making it to Harry's door.
She flung it open without knocking, looking around frantically.
His bed remained unmade, a few articles of clothing scattered around the floor. Normally she'd scold him for leaving his area in such disrepair, but it didn't matter now. He wasn't there.
She kept on her journey upward towards Ron's room. He was supposed to be downstairs anyway, maybe Harry needed to borrow something. He had to be in there. He just had to. She needed just to have this feeling go away. He would make it go away. Her bare feet made only light patters on the floor, and she threw open Ron's door in desperation.
There was a flurry of movement and objects falling. Hermione tried to focus her eyes but she saw all that she needed to see with the two people she had not expected to be in the room. Neither one was Harry.
Lavender brown grabbed a sheet and covered her naked body as Ron fell off the bed, hastily pulling up his dress pants. His eyes were wide with fear. Hermione felt herself swaying in the doorframe, trying her hardest just to make the room be still.
"Mione. I-"
She found her voice, miraculously surprising the bile that threatened to come up.
"Don't call me that." She whispered.
It felt like eternity was passing but it was merely seconds. Behind her the rough steps of someone following her behind the stairs came closer and closer.
"Hermione! Hermione are you up here? Come on you know it's bad luck to see the bride-"
Harry came up behind her and into the room's view. His shirt was still untucked, and his red tie hung lazily around his neck. Hermione moved from the door and looked away from Ron and lavender, her eyes starting to swell with tears. The feeling of dread she had been stewing in all morning came splashing down on her like cold water. She loved him. She loved him. And here he was, the day of their wedding, in bed with another woman.
"Ron?! What the bloody hell is this?!" Harry's kind eyes were replaced with fury that his glasses only seemed to magnify. His thick brows knitted together in a scowl. Lavender squeaked behind her sheet, darting her eyes back and forth between Ron and Harry.
Ron had managed to zip up his trousers and was running his hands through his shaggy red hair. Hermione had backed up to the banister of the stairs, looking at him in agony.
She loved him.
She loved him.
She loved him.
"I don't know.. I don't know.. It just sort of happened. She came up to my room and..."
Hermione couldn't bear to hear another moment. She bolted down the stairs, not even caring about the dress or tearing it.
"Hermione!" Harry yelled above her.
She ran the two flights down and flew open her door, grabbing her wand and belongings. She threw them all into her extendable bag and kept going.
Molly was in the kitchen, placing the final touches on the cake. It was 7 tiers tall, one for every year they knew each other. She had charmed it so that golden and ruby sparkles rained down over the little figurines of her and Ron on top. It was everything she had ever dreamed of.
She came to a stop when she saw Molly, who turned in surprise which grew into concern at Hermione's now flowing tears.
"Hermione!" She tossed her wand on the table. "Hermione? Dear, what's wrong?"
She could hear people coming down the stairs.
Harry knew. Harry saw it. And that made it all more real. But how could she stay around now? How could she talk about it when he was still just a few floors above them? How would she tell every one outside, their friends and family what had just occurred.
"Hermione! Wait!"
Harry was almost there. She snapped her head up and saw him bounding down, only a floor above her.
Hermione ran outside, using the exit closest away from the gathering of people. She picked up the dress and looked behind her. From a distance she could see Professor McGonagall, who was watching her in confusion. She wished she could explain. She wished she could confide in the teacher she had admired and respected for so long. No doubt it would look like she had cold feet. But at the moment Hermione just couldn't face it. She ran to the thicket surrounding the house when she heard Harry calling again.
"Hermione! Please wait!"
She flipped around and felt the fabric work against her legs, causing her to fall. She tried to tangle them free when she saw harry running towards her, Molly Weasley and now professor McGonagall behind him. She couldn't take it. She couldn't be here.
She had loved him.
So without a second of hesitation, she squeezed her eyes shut and snapped her fingers, apparating as far as she could go.
She cracked into reality once more, her dress still twisted and disheveled. She was in an dirty alleyway deep in London. She finally untangled herself and slowly came to her feet. She felt a wetness and realized she had landed in some kind of puddle. muddy brown water stained her side, and she began to weep. All the emotions she was holding back came all at once. The horrible feeling she had all week. She felt something was coming, but never this. She loved him.
...:::::::::::...
Her mind tormented her by replaying the scene over and over. She saw Ronald huffing into her. She saw his passion unfolding into someone else. They were supposed to experience it together, for the first time. But how many times had it happened? How long had she been in the dark?
She distractedly made her way down the alley, knowing it well by heart to even need to concentrate. She let the train of the dress drag along the filthy streets . She didn't even care anymore. The soft light of the sunset led her into the city again, and she saw the familiar sight into view.
To a normal passerby it would look like an abandoned building. But any wizard in London knew the famous pub. She crossed over without even bothering to look for cars. She'd gladly welcome an end to it all. Sadly, nothing came into contact with her, and she walked into the leaky cauldron.
It looked the same as it always had, despite previous renovation. The dining room was dimly lit, but already bustling with its' normal patrons tucked into booths or tables. A few wizards looked up from their game of exploding snap and eyed her curiously, but she waltzed in and headed straight for the bar top.
She lifted herself onto the stool and looked around for Tom the inn keeper. He was down the bar talking to a rather decrepit looking wizard and but looked up towards her. He seemed to have recognized her and hobbled over, smiling a toothy grin.
"Ah, miss granger! What can I do you for?"
"A double shot of whisky, please tom."
She wiped under her eyes and tried to look as normal as possible. She felt the entire room quiet slightly and their stares burned into her back. Tom simply nodded, and conjured out a glass and bottle.
"This is our finest firewhisky, miss granger. Over a hundred years old-"
Hermione grabbed the glass from him and shot it back, the liquid stinging her throat. She pushed it forward again towards him. He raised his eyebrows and poured another, which she shot back again. After her fourth he tapped the top of the tumbler.
"Gotta get some food in you if you're gonna be drinking like that, miss."
Hermione was too weak willed, and now drunk, to argue with him. He walked away and she stared at the glass. She wondered what was happening at the burrow now. Even though she managed to escape she still left humiliated.
"Poor Hermione!" They'd say. She couldn't handle being pitied. She'd rather be judged than pitied.
She wondered where Harry was. She felt guilty for not saying anything to him. If there was anyone she wanted to see, it was him.
Tom returned with a plate of stew and potatoes. She thanked him quietly and began to pick at it.
"So, just in for the drink, miss?" Tom leaned in towards her, as to avoid the eavesdroppers. She looked up sadly and put down her fork.
"Do you have any rooms available?" She barely whispered.
Tom reached into his pocket and pulled out a key, sliding it over to her hand.
"Don't worry dear. Stay as long as you like. No charge."
Hermione began to protest when he pushed her plate towards her.
"Eat."
He made her a water and walked back towards the elderly wizard, leaving her alone with her thoughts once again.
She had began to eat slowly, but it proved difficult. Every bite seemed to make her feel ill. Her mind kept replaying the same thing over and over. Her view of herself in the mirror. Ron running his hands through his hair. Harry's face as she apparated away.
"Well, well, well. If it isn't Granger. Or, is it Weasel now?" A familiar voice drawled. But it couldn't be. It was too deep. He couldn't be here. He couldn't see her now, like this.
She kept her eyes on her barely touched food, which had gone cold with the hours passing by. She felt someone slide into the stool next to her, and she could smell him. He always smelled the same. Like fresh mowed grass, parchment, and something strong, like light sweat.
Please don't let it be him.
"Well, probably not Weasley by the look of it. So what happened, Granger? Cold feet?"
She slammed her fork down and glared to her right. It was him. Draco Malfoy.
Although it had only been a year since she last saw him, he looked different. He had filled out from his previous scrawny form, no doubt from the position he got as seeker for the Falmouth Falcons. He was no longer sickly pale, but slightly tan. His blonde hair had grown out considerably, almost daring to go into his steely grey eyes. His face was strong and mature, and Hermione couldn't help but let her gaze wonder down to his thick lips, which were set in the usual smirk she saw him with.
She got control of herself and grabbed the keys Tom had left her, throwing a few gallons on the counter even though she was told it was free of charge, and gave Draco a pointed look before making her way to her room. She ignored the stares of the other patrons who whispered behind their hands. She didn't know any of these people, well, besides Draco. But she didn't want to think of them. She just wanted to get out of the dress.
She briskly walked down the hallway. Room 8B. She glanced at the passing door, 2B. She was so close. Almost there.
"Granger!"
She heard his voice again, but didn't falter, instead walking faster almost at a jog.
"Come on, granger! You can't run forever! Can't say I blame you though!"
5B... 6B...
"So what happened?! Weasel saw you in that hideous dress and left you at the alter?"
She whipped around and glared at him, drawing her wand from her bag and pointed it at him. He was only a few feet away, and lifted his hands seemingly in surrender, a cold smile playing across his lips. She broke the distance between them and stabbed his neck with her wand, craning her head up to look him dead in the eyes.
"It would do you well Malfoy... To mind your tongue."
Her voice was low and deadly, articulating each word so deliberately that she briefly sounded like snape. Even Draco slightly faltered at her words, his face dropping and his eyebrow raised. She dropped her wand and ran all the way to her room, shoving the key in and slamming the door behind her.
The room was simple and cozy. There was an old rug , a peeling white dresser, and a large canopy bed made up with a soft blue down comforter. She frantically began to pull off the dress, sobs beginning to build with each passing moment. She had imagined this night, taking off this dress and being with him for the first time. She imagined he'd be gentle and sweet. He'd kiss her all over and told her he loved her.
She ripped off the garter belt in disgust, hurling it across the room. All she wore was her bra and underwear, but she couldn't wait another minute. She pulled back the comforters and buried herself in her sadness, letting the tears flow in heavy streams until she finally fell asleep.
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