Hermione looked down at her dress. She felt it was too white. She rememberd when she was maybe 8 or something, she used to dream of a dress like this. A prince, a big church, friends and family gatherd. A white wedding. Of course she'd never dreamed she'd go to a school of witchcraft and wizardy. Although she and her parents had known from a young age there was something odd about her. She looked at the dress again, white and flowing. A part of Hermione missed childhood, when everything was black and white. Good and evil, and a prince would come and there'd be a white wedding. But Hermione wouldn't want to change her life now. The simple nievity of childhood had long since passed, she realised there were shades of grey. She looked down at her dress again, smoothing her hands across it as she waited.

If she'd thought of it sooner she would have worn a grey dress. It would have been fitting. They did argue over the white, in the end her parents won out.

Even if she was marring a princess, at least she still got the white wedding.