It was surprising to enter the large white tent to find everything quaint but still brimming with a brightness that many people would never know. The decorations were simple in ivory and soft yellows, yellows that brought out the true color of the bride's eyes. They were brown by the way with flecks of honey in them that reminded you somewhere inside of her there was a fire burning that no one could put out. The white must have been her decision because she always spoke of how white meant that the war was over in her mind, no more black and no more death. She had once said that no one would be allowed to wear black to her wedding because that was a color of the war and the war was over. Such a dreamer, she always saw things with a silver lining even on the days when she was screaming and crying about something that happened. Had she seen the silver lining when she walked out that day?
Draco Malfoy stood in one corner of the tent, having forgotten about the date he'd brought here tonight. It was not wise of him to come alone so he brought the only girl he knew wouldn't ask questions and would just be glad to be here. She had dark hair, it wasn't the same brown as the bride but a shade darker and the volume was much less than he would have liked. Her hair was never stuck to his face when he woke up in the morning, he never had to push it down to find her face because her hair was perfectly smooth. Perhaps that shouldn't have been a strike against her, but every time he tucked her hair behind her ear and it did not stubbornly break free Draco found himself frowning. That frown only deepened when he saw her blue eyes shift in concern as if she were ready to apologize for whatever she'd done wrong. Blue eyes had never been so repulsive to him before, but the bride has ruined him forever and he knows it.
The soft chimes of music broke him out of his reverie of thought and that's when he became aware of the fact that Astoria was touching his hand; holding it actually. He could not stand how her fingers did not fit like puzzle pieces with his; they were foreign digits even after eight months of courting. That ring he'd given her looked out of place on her finger and some days he found himself wanting nothing more than to pull it off. It had been the first ring his father ever gave his mother and it seemed to be misplaced on that delicate finger of hers. Astoria didn't have any scars, not a one and she was perfect. At one point Draco wanted that; perfection. But since the bride stole his heart, he's wanted nothing more than the normal, the understated, the quirks and the scars.
Music echoed louder and the entire congregation in the tent took to their feet with eager eyes on the opening, Draco followed suit standing with Astoria at his side. Out of the corner of his eye he could see that she was staring at him; surely she was hoping to see some kind of break in his usual stoic façade. So he stood up a little taller even if his knees felt week with each reverberating note that filled the room.
When did the room start to feel like the walls were closing? How was it that he was still breathing even as the music started to play? His heart kept time to the base of the music, reminding him with each step she took he was going to die little by little on the inside. Why did he even accept this invitation? It was the grown up thing to do; that's what his mother told him. Even when she gave him that tight lipped smile that told him she knew that he was going to suffer for having to grow up. The little boy in him had wanted to crawl onto her lap and let her stroke his hair, but he hadn't here merely nodded that day and sent in his RSVP.
Standing there he was forced to realize every regret he ever had and choked on a sound he was sure would have been a sob when he caught sight of the bride. For a moment all he could focus on was the white dress she wore because it was entirely her. It was sleeveless and dipped in a modest way down her chest the neck to loop back around. It fit her perfectly, but somehow kept her modest with the short train at the back. There was no veil to cover her hair and Draco ached when he realized how short it was. Why had she cut it? He didn't understand, but he still thought she was the most beautiful girl in the world.
Hermione Granger walked on air even when she was walking away from him and to her soon-to-be husband. Draco finally got the gull to look up at the groom and he felt his stomach lurch painfully because there were tears in his eyes. Ronald Weasley looked dapper in his dark dress robes, they were black and Draco could have sworn Hermione would not have let that happen. But when he looked back at her expecting to see some disappointment all he saw was radiance in her smile and tears twinkling in her eyes. She was happy to be standing across from him; so happy that Ron had to reach over and wipe her eyes before those tears fell. And as Ron's thumbs swept over her cheeks, Draco felt tears against his own and he knew it was because of the pain of knowing he would never be able to touch those cheeks again.
How was it that the happiest day of her life could be the worst of his?