A/N: Im making a whole series thing for dramione based on Taylor Swift's awesome songs.
Disclaimer: Speak Now belongs to Taylorrr! Harry Potter belongs to the wonderful J.K.R.
"Hey... Hermione," you greet me outside the church. Many people look at us as they go inside. After all, you're marrying someone today that's not me. You look at me strangely, almost hopefully, and I know what you're asking.
"No," I say. "I just came to say... um... congrats. I wasn't... invited." Your eyes lose their glow and all I want to do is close the distance between us and comfort you, but I can't do that anymore. We were over a long time ago and you would be walking away with someone other than me today. I wish I could just stand up to them. Tell them how much you really mean to me. I wish I could stand up and speak. I swallow the lump in my throat.
"I guess I'll see you... around, Draco," I stutter, walking away from you. You nodded sadly and turn on your heel. I want to run back and catch your arm. Tell you can't just leave me like that. I decide against it.
I run around the back of the church and tap an unnoticed wall. A hole burns through the wall at the spot my wand touches, expanding and making a hole to the inside just big enough for me. The next thing I know, I'm hiding behind a thick curtain, watching as you greet your friends. Next in line is Astoria's family. Their chins lifted high, noses almost in the clouds and I hate them. Them, who arranged this stupid wedding for Astoria and you, the arrogant, no good purebloods. Your family had no choice. You had no choice. I can't believe them.
Speak of the devil, I think. I hear her voice echo in the church as she yells at Pansy, her bridesmaid, saying how disgusting her dress looks. There were uncomfortable shuffles then the screaming cut off, signaling the start of the white-veil ceremony. I watch your miserable face as the preacher says all the welcomes, killing time as Astoria straightens her dress by a small room with a window on the side of the aisle. And Astoria. That…
With a wave of his wand, the preacher creates wedding music, but, I know, to both of us, it sounds like a death march. Astoria floats the aisle elegantly, head held high with a smirk. You blink hopefully, then whatever illusion you saw disappears and your sour façade is back. That girl walking down the aisle should be me. Would be me. I looked down at the engagement ring you gave me a month ago and watch as a tear reflects the diamond's beauty.
I look back up, and the preacher is reading from a thick book. This is my chance. I have to stand up or I'll lose you forever.
"…So if any object, speak now or forever hold you peace," he announced. The preacher smirks, satisfied; the Greengrass' said they would pay him the big bucks if you and Astoria were wed without objections. The preacher raised his wand and your face goes pale.
"And now…" he announced. I stepped out from behind the curtain.
"I object," I say as clearly as I can. The scene automatically turns chaotic.
Astoria looks ready to kill and her sister shrieks angrily. Some guests shuffle nervously while others are fumbling through their bags, looking for either their wands or cameras. What a dramatic crowd. Focus, Hermione, I think. My eyes find yours and they are joyful and very amused.
"How could you get married to her, Draco?" I ask. "I can't just let you go like that. Please. Run with me, Drake. Get our dream house; have the wedding we always wanted." All eyes but yours dart to my engagement ring. A smile spreads across your face and it's like seeing the sun after years of seclusion. I missed it. You walk to me and take my hands and lean your forehead against mine.
"Yes," you whisper. "I'll run. With you. I'll meet you later at the back door. I wouldn't have said my vows. I love you, Hermione Granger. Thanks for being there when they said speak now."