The Thing About Weddings . . .
Hermione Jean Granger did not like weddings, in fact, she detested them. The thing about weddings was that she had been to too many of them lately.
There was Ginny and Harry's wedding: "Oh, Hermione, I'm so excited, I just can't wait. But what if it doesn't work out? But then again, I love him so much. Here, can you hold my dress?"
Then there was Ron's wedding, just five months after he'd broken up with her: "I'm sorry 'Mione, it just wasn't meant to be. You 'n me, we're good friends, always were, but it's just chemistry with me and Lav. You understand, right?"
And that was not to mention the stream of her classmates' weddings that she had attended in the last year: "Yes, thank you so much for coming; it's so lovely to see you again. How are you? Oh, thank you, thank you so much. Yes, I'm so lucky. Here can you hold my dress?"
Yes, Hermione had been to her share of unsatisfactory weddings recently, but this promised to be the worst of the lot; she was going to sit here and watch the man she loved marry a vapid, arrogant, empty headed woman who meant nothing to him. Yes, that was what she was going to do because she loved him and he had told her to respect his wishes on the last night she had seen him.
She woke up in the big bed to find her companion of the night before had been replaced by a note written in his beautiful script: My Dearest Hermione, I am so sorry for what I am about to say to you. Firstly, I love you with all of my being and always will. Secondly, I have valued our time together more than any before it. And thirdly, I must break everything off, I am to be married, you see. Please do not say a thing about this to anyone as it would ruin things for me if we became public.
He had asked her to leave him alone, so she would. It might kill her to sit here silently but she would. The guests started filing in displaying their splendor like the peacocks that were his favorite bird. Next to them Hermione felt as plain as a pauper in a silk shop. They were all so simple. He had told her often how much he hated all of them, their simple little world of glass and his place in it and their entire way of being. Then his mother entered, her face just as cold and cruel as it had been the night she had first seen her.
They were walking up the steps to the Weasley's seats for the quiditch world cup.
"How far up are we?" Ron had asked back when she had still thought herself in love with him.
"Well, put it this way," Lucius Malfoy had sneered, "if it rains, you'll be the first to know."
And Narcissa Malfoy had been standing there. She looked at Hermione as though she were some nasty creature that was blind and slimy and very dangerous.
Everyone was seated and he entered and went to stand by the priest but his grey eyes held none of the light she had seen in them. How it hurt to see him again . . . and those eyes . . . those eyes had been the light of so many nights spent in the library not doing her homework.
His arms wrapped around her as they hid from Madam Pince. "Careful Granger, if she sees us your perfect reputation will be ruined."
She smacked his arm."So would yours, Draco."
"Yes, but I, unlike your delicate self, can handle slander and gossip."
"I am not delicate." She shoved him away.
"You know, you're right," Draco pulled her tight against him and kissed her fiercely. "I'd break you if you were delicate."
Hermione, unable to stand the distance, pulled his lips back to her.
The music began to play, and people started to whisper about the bride and groom and the dress, but all Hermione could think of was the one time she and Draco had danced.
Viktor had already gone to bed, he felt ill apparently, and most of the attendees of the Yule ball had gone. Hermione was sitting at a back corner nodding in time to the music watching Draco and Pansy fight. Pansy ran out of the hall yelling and Draco stood with his head in his hand, standing hunch backed like an old man. She stood and walked to his side.
"Bad night for you too, huh?"
"Where's Krum?"
"In bed."
"Oh."
Draco had them extended his hand and she had put hers into it. They had swayed to the music for the entire night.
Asteria Greengrass floated down the aisle and Hermione wanted to strangle her for her luck. It should have been her that was walking down that carpet, her that got to love Draco Malfoy for the rest of her life. Then she caught sight of the look in the woman-girl's eyes, so like the look Hermione had known was in her eyes the first time Draco had kissed her.
Being petrified was not nearly as relaxing as everyone assumed it was. They all talked as though she couldn't hear them which got annoying very quickly. One night three weeks after her attack, Draco Malfoy had stolen into the hospital wing. He came to stand at her bedside and looked down at her.
"I wish you weren't in here Granger. I know I'm horrible to you when you're out there, but," he reached down and touched her face, "The thing is . . . I can't talk to you any other way now that the parts have been assigned. I'd rather be close to you that way than try to pretend you don't exist."
He paused and looked around like he was afraid of admonishment.
"I guess what I'm trying to say is that I can't be without you Granger. You can't just go away like this, because . . . well because I love you, damn it. All right, there, I said it. I love you.
He said all of this very quickly, and then he leaned down and kissed her. Hermione had been cold for days but Draco's kiss warmed every inch of her to a warm and pleasant tingle.
"If there is anyone who objects let them speak now or forever hold their piece." The reverend said.
For a brief second Hermione teetered on the verge, unsure of which path she was going to take. All she knew was that she could not just sit here and watch. Her mind suddenly snapped into clarity. She stood and yelled, "I object!"
The entire church fell dead silent and stared at her in horror, all except Draco Malfoy. He was looking at her as though she had breathed life into his dead body.