The Happy Couple
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. This was written for the HPFC Wedding Challenge by Pinky Green, and can also apply for the First Love Challenge by hondagirl if you squint.
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He remembered watching her dance. In all honesty, he remembered gliding her along the dance floor personally as well, but that was so long ago that, if he told anyone that he remembered it with such clarity, they would laugh and call him delusional. Maybe he was, but that hardly mattered. He remembered placing his hands on her dainty hips, lightly running his thumb behind the curve of her ear, and twirling her around the dance floor. He remembered the red-haired man, Weasley, doing the exact same thing with her three years ago.
And now, he sees what has become of it.
She's stunning of course, radiant in her white gown made of acromantula silk. Her hair, having long since lost its bushiness, is done up in a style reminiscent of the manner she wore it for the Yule Ball, yet somehow more elegant. He doesn't look at her dress though, or her hair; his eyes are locked upon her face. Most especially her eyes.
Eyes that have a look he can only dream of receiving from the angel who is gliding down the aisle. Eyes that are aimed at another man all together. The Weasley, Ronald, who had been so spiteful and jealous in that one year that he was at Hogwarts had gotten the girl. It was probably inevitable. Viktor was certain that the younger man had been in love with her even then.
I loved her first, he murmured mentally, but made no indication of his thoughts beyond his stiff posture.
This is a woman that doesn't care that he is the best seeker in the world, or that he's only lost ten games in his entire career. She never once cared that he was the Viktor Krum, just that he was Viktor.
It made his heart ache to see the first person outside of his family that recognized him as something more than an idol being wed to a man who couldn't possibly appreciate her as much as he did. He was certain that such a thing would be physically impossible.
A man with darker brown comb over, Dr. Daniel Granger, her father, hands Hermione over to her husband to be. Weasley takes her hand in his, gazing down at her with the same loving eyes and the same sort of goofy smile that could barely be seen through her veil.
Viktor watches and waits.
The proceedings go along smoothly; they exchange hand-written vows so beautiful that many women are crying. No, he thinks, it is her vows that are beautiful, her love that is pure. And that man has it all. With his cheesy lines and uncertain manner, he gets her.
When the call for protestations was made, he wanted to stand up and say exactly what he thought.
"She's too good for him!" Viktor would say, "He's not kind enough. She is delicate and strong and should be handled with care. How can this be true love, when I loved her first!"
But he remained silent. Those objections would not have done well; she wouldn't have liked it. He stayed quiet then, watching as her veil was brought over her head to reveal her face. He couldn't bring himself to look away as his lips descended upon hers, as they kissed and people cried. He couldn't look away.
He watched her dance with the clumsy man who had married her, watched him twirl her at the wrong time and heard her laugh it off. She was so elegant, so graceful, a real dancer, a real woman, and he had to watch her dance with him.
Viktor stayed long enough for it to be considered polite, congratulating the happy couple, all the while thinking the same thing over and over.
I loved her first. It should be me.
But he didn't marry his first love, and that made his blood boil.
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A/n: I'm getting way into doing short little things like this... especially ones that don't have a happy ending for the main character and are WAY introspective. Ah well, it was fun to write anyway.
The prompt for this story was "wedding" from one character's perspective; it didn't have to be their wedding, just a wedding. So, I wrote this.
(Tried to get the genre as close as I could, but I'm bad at picking them...)
