She's standing right here, not even three metres away from me, and she's gorgeous – don't be stupid Harry – of course she is. Her hair is pinned up in a mass of curls, each one fighting to disentangle from the pin that has them captured. I always preferred her hair out, free and beautiful, just as she is. Her dress robes are white; they pull in at the waist and accentuate her curves,
"Do you, Hermione Granger, take Dean Thomas, to be your wizard?"
The cranky old magistrate's squeaky voice reminds me of where I am. Her wedding. I should be happy. I am happy. Hermione loves him – wait, why does she love him again? He's not good enough for her.
Where's Ron when you need him? Why couldn't he be this blasted 'best wizard'? Ah, that's right, "can't Harry, emergency at Charlie's". I'm sure Charlie would have been fine without two or three of his organs. Why do I have to stand next to a man I really couldn't care less about right now, as he marries the woman I'm in love with? Because I'm her best friend, I'm her support, even now, just before she says her last words before married life; she's looking at me, nervous, unspoken words to me asking for reassurance. I give her a little comforting smile back. She turns her eyes back to her future husband and her marrier.
"Yes"
PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP
Oh Harry, it's now or never, come on now, I thought if I'd start getting serious with Dean, Harry'd decide he really did want me. Stupid Hermione.
Don't get me wrong, I love Dean, he's sweet, funny, kind, genuine, a good friend. Everything you'd want in a future husband. He's my future husband, he's practically my husband. Look at me, all done up for two men.
"Do you, Hermione Granger, take Dean Thomas, to be your wizard?"
Okay, breathe Hermione, you'll live. Just take a breath. I look at Harry; his eyes are sort of out of it, like he's not here. I'm so nervous, come on Harry, this is your last chance, tell me you don't want me to marry Dean – and I won't. If you don't, this is it. I'll be Mrs Hermione Thomas, ring and all.
Come on Harry, tell me now.
He smiles at me. This little reassuring smile that's all very comforting and friendly, it makes everything clear – he doesn't love me; I was being stupid and pathetic. Now I've got to get married.
Okay, decision made.
"Yes"