Disclaimer: I own nothing. J.K. Rowling owns everything. The song belongs to Collin Raye, and is how I came up with the idea for this fic.

A/N: I know this is kinda depressing. It was meant to be that way.

I can't believe she's getting married. Harry and I still want to remember her as our partner in crime, the know-it-all eleven year old we met on the train. Harry still fancies her, just as he did in Hogwarts. I can see it. He's standing in the back of the church, still dressed in the jeans and t-shirt he'd been wearing yesterday. I can see from here his jaw clench, and his eyes narrowed to slits.

He's not mad at her, I can tell. He's never actually been mad at her, at lest not that I can remember. He's mad at the man who stole her away from him. Mad at himself for letting it happen.

They dated briefly, in seventh year. It was the school scandal. She made him happy, and it showed. They were nominated for class couple, and won. They went to the Yule Ball together that year, and people were convinced that it was only a matter of time after graduation until Harry popped the question.

Their relationship didn't even make it to graduation, or even spring break. Harry had to leave for the Order, and it tore their love to pieces. Harry was out of it for days after that, and I didn't see Hermione for weeks. Harry always told me that when he came back from the war, he'd convince Hermione to take him back.

That plan didn't make it either. Harry came back, yes, with the same plan he'd had four years earlier, but that was when Hermione dropped the bombshell. She told him that she was getting married, to a man Harry had hated in Hogwarts, and it wasn't Malfoy. It was another, who had always tried to split the famous couple apart, and now he'd finally succeeded.

In the weeks following the announcement, Harry seemed to have accepted it. He didn't actually speak to Hermione, or to anyone else. He wasn't happy, that much was obvious, but he didn't cave into himself like the summer after Sirius died. I was sure that everything would be fine, and they'd both move on with their lives.

Then, on the night before the wedding, he spent the night in the Leaky Cauldron, drowning his sorrows in shot after shot of Firewhiskey. He wasn't the only one there, but he sure acted like it. Tears streamed down his face as he asked Tom time and time again for another drink. I tried, but couldn't pry him off the barstool. I even got Hermione in there, and she gave it her best shot, and eventually was able to lead a very drunk Harry back to his apartment. They'd fought after that, and it ended with Harry collapsing on the floor and a sobbing Hermione running out the door.

"Mate, what'd you do?" I asked him.

"I told her she shouldn't marry him," he blubbered. "Then she told me I had no right to tell her what she should or shouldn't do with her life. She said to stop my saving-people nonsense because she didn't need to be saved. Then she ran out."

"She's right, Harry," I told him, stepping back a little as not to get hit. I'd been on the receiving end of those punches (by accident), and didn't relish being on it again. "She needs to get on with her life, and you need to get on with yours. Did you really think she wouldn't get another boyfriend after four years?"

"No," Harry said, sobbing harder into his hands.

"Well," I said, "I don't care what you do, but I have a wedding to go to in the morning. Just don't go back to the Leaky Cauldron, okay? No one wants a drunk Harry Potter roaming the streets of London." With that, I went to bed.

This morning, I found him sitting at the table, a cup of coffee in his hands, and a sad expression on his face. His eyes were red and puffy, and in front of him was a photo album, full of pictures from Hogwarts, mostly of the two of them.

"Harry, you going to be okay?" I asked warily. He nodded, a teardrop slipping into his coffee.

"Aren't you at least going to change for the wedding?" I asked. Harry shook his head.

"I don't think I'll go," he said softly.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Have fun,"

That was four hours ago. I had a feeling he'd be here anyway, and about five minutes ago, I caught him sneaking in the front door and sitting down. He's just standing there now. I pray to Merlin he won't do anything stupid. He can be rather pigheaded sometimes. But he doesn't; he just stands there. Hermione catches sight of him then, and waves. Harry doesn't do anything, just half-smiles and waves back; but his expression tells a different story.

He didn't do anything at the actual wedding. It was after, at the reception that he acted like an idiot. Trying to spice things up, Hermione's husband had convinced her to have a karaoke machine, so that the guests could sing. It was a good idea, though all the people who sang sounded like Crookshanks being run over by a truck. Harry was sitting at a table by himself, smiling at the singers and waved to guests he knew, who looked at him like he shouldn't be there, which he shouldn't have.

It was really Hermione's fault. In Hogwarts, she could get him to anything he didn't want to do, and it was the same here. Only a few people (like Hermione, myself, and some of the guests who had been in our year) knew that Harry had an excellent voice. Hermione walks up to him and asks him if he'll sing.

"No," he says, "I really don't think it's right."

"Oh, come on," she says, tugging on his arm.

"No,"

"For me?" that's the activation button, so to speak. He'd do anything for her, and it's still the same way now. So, here he is, climbing up onto the stage, looking slightly nervous.

"I was convinced by Hermione to come up here," he says into the microphone. He whispers something to the guy next to him, who plays with the dials on the machine.

"This song," he continues, "Is one of my favorites, but also tells something I should have said a long time ago." As soon as the first strains of the song coul dbe heard, I already knew there was going to be trouble.

"'You want to know, where we go from here,

So many roads, but none that seem clear

Is what we have enough to last our whole lives through?

Who knows? Baby who knows?

So you're asking me, what do we do?

Cause time moves so fast, and the chances seen so few

Is it too much to think, that we could have it all?

Who knows? We may never know

But if I were you,

I'd promise to live life for all it's worth

Take all that you've been given

And leave your mark upon this Earth

Trust your heart to show you every thing you'll ever need

And if I were you, I'd fall in love with me," he finishes the first verse just as I'm climbing onto the stage.

"Ron, what are you doing?" he hisses, covering the microphone with his hand. I turn off the karaoke machine.

"Harry, mate, it's over. Give it up. She's married now," I say, and drag him off the stage by his arm. To avoid another scene like that, I drag him out the back entrance and throw him out into the dark parking lot.

"Ron, what the bloody hell was that?" he yells.

"Harry! You can't just go around doing that! You're going to ruin her own wedding day! Is that what you want? To mess up what is supposed to be the happiest day of her life?"

"It wasn't supposed to be like this!" he shouts. "I was supposed to be the one watching her walk down the aisle, not him!"

"Harry! Don't dwell on the past! You had your chance!"

"I didn't want to leave! I had to!"

"No, you didn't have to! There were wizards that would have loved to take your place!"

"You don't understand!"

"What, Harry? What don't I understand?"

"There was a prophecy! I told you that!"

"Who cares about the stupid prophecy! The Aurors had You-Know-Who arrested by the time you had to leave! You could have stayed!"

"I left to protect her! And you!"

"Protect her from what! Death Eaters? She led Aurors right to most of them when you were sixteen! Or is your memory that bad?"

"My memory is fine! I left to protect her from me!"

"What the hell do you mean?"

"I changed after I killed Voldemort! I didn't want her to see that side of me!"

"Yeah, what a great job you did protecting her from a broken heart! She was devastated Harry! She loved you more than anyone in the world! You knew that!"

"Ron! I know I made a mistake! I regret it every day of my life! I didn't mean to be gone for four years! I was in custody! You have no idea how much I missed her!" he cries, and collapsed onto the ground in tears. "I still love her."

"I know, mate. But she's moved on. You have to accept that," Harry shook his head like a child.

"No, no no," he says, as if they were magic words that would turn back time.

"Ron?" I hear Hermione call from the doorway. I turn around. She'd been crying, I could tell. I walk over to her.

"How is he doing?" she asks, wiping her eyes.

"Not good," I say. "He's heartbroken. I'm just glad he doesn't have anything sharp on him right now."

"That bad?" Hermione looks shocked. "I never envisioned he'd take it that badly."

"He's pretty torn up,"

"Maybe I should go talk to him," she says, looking at the Harry, who's sobbing into his hands.

"That might just make things worse," I say. She nods her head, but doesn't move to go inside.

"And your husband will be waiting for you," I say, trying to bring her back. I can tell she too, is dwelling on the past, and I can see that if she goes to talk to him, the break will be just that much harder for the both of them. She's not listening.

"Hermione, don't think about what could have been,"

"I'm not," she says quietly. I roll my eyes.

"I know you are, and you know you are, so stop pretending," I say. She nods again, and steps outside. I grab her arm, but she shakes me off, just as she's done countless times before. I shrug and walk back inside, but stay where I can still see the two of them.

I can't hear what they're saying, but, as always, I can read the two of them like open books. Harry's sobbing eventually recedes, and now he's just sitting there, listening (rather reluctantly) to what she's saying. After a few moments, after she gave him a hug, they walk back inside. Harry still looks unhappy, and is shooting daggers at her new husband, but isn't doing anything stupid.

Two days later he leaves again. He didn't tell me where, and I have a feeling I didn't want to know. He sold his flat, packed up everything, and basically dropped from the public—and private, eye. I still get a Christmas card, as does Hermione, other than that, I haven't seen him for six years. I don't know if he ever got over her, though I'm sure he smiled when Hermione sent him pictures of their sons.