Written for Hogwarts' Granger Danger Event: A Wedding, the Coming Book Day Event: (character) Harry Potter and the Roald Dahl Day Event: The Chocolate Room - Write about a dream come true.

Word count: 734


Waiting To Start

"I still can't believe that you're the first of us to get married," Harry announces, half-pouting, half-bewildered.

It makes him look ridiculous as he leans back in his chair, and Hermione laughs as she adjusts her veil a little. "Well, it's your own fault for not proposing to Ginny yet."

"Actually, we've decided to wait until she got a job more London based," Harry shrugs. "We just don't want to be one of those couples who have a years-long engagement because they can't get married, or who end up getting hitched because it's the easiest option."

Hermione laughs. "Molly would kill you if you got hitched," she points out.

"I know," Harry moans. "She'd be so disappointed, too, it would be terrible."

"And how many times have you had to tell that to Ginny yet?" Hermione teases, trying to pick a lipstick—how did Pansy accumulate so many different shades when Hermione had only two: a light pink for the days and a dark red for the nights she wanted to appear a little more adventurous, Hermione would never know. Nor would she ever understand what had lead her to believe that it was a good idea to borrow her fiancée's makeup, for that matter.

Still, Pansy is her fiancée—her wife, even, in a few hours, and that thought somehow makes her giddy with excitement and lightheaded with anxiety as she thinks of all the little details that could go wrong.

"Ten times already since last week, when she came back from France," Harry complains, and his voice snaps Hermione out of her reverie, startling her so badly that her pink lipstick jerks to her cheek, leaving a wide mark from the right corner of her lips and almost to her ear.

"I'm sorry, what?" Hermione asks, eyeing the disaster on her face and reaching for her makeup wipes.

Harry snorts. "I said that Ginny's tried to convince me ten times in less than two weeks," he replies. "But you were elsewhere, weren't you? Thinking about your lady, maybe?"

Hermione feels her cheeks heat up. "So what if I was?" she counters, shifting in her seat to get a better angle on her face in the mirror. "It's my wedding day, you know—if there ever was a day to get distracted by my 'lady', as you say, it would be this one."

"Touché," Harry laughs.

Hermione sends him a fond smile before turning back to her mirror, determined to get her makeup right this time.

Harry's knees creak as he gets up, and Hermione bites back a giggle.

Not well enough, though, since Harry apparently notices. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," he says, eyeroll audible in his tone. "But anyway, I should go—leave you to finish getting prepared in peace." In her mirror, Hermione can see him wink as he adds, "Hopefully this way you'll avoid any further incidents."

Growling with fake anger, Hermione spins around and throws her pack of makeup wipes at him—she'd been considering one of the tubes of lipsticks, as they were closer, but they're also not hers, and she doesn't actually want to hurt Harry.

Harry catches it with a laugh. He fiddles with it a little, before crossing over to Hermione and setting it back down on the table where it came from. "You might need this, you know," he adds cheekily, dancing away from Hermione's attempt to slap his arm and pressing a featherlight kiss atop her veil-covered hair.

"Good luck," he finally says as he leaves the room.

Hermione is unable to stop her grin as she replies. "Thanks. Now, leave," she adds, sending him a mock glare.

Once Harry's left, his laughter still echoing in her ears, Hermione focuses back on her reflection.

She almost doesn't recognize herself—it's the smile, she knows. The smile changes everything. It's a giddier version of the slightly enamoured smile she gets every morning when she remembers that she woke up next to Pansy, that they live together, as she notices the second toothbrush on the sink, but somehow it makes all the difference.

She's dreamed about this, she realizes, and from there on it's the easiest thing to just wait for the ceremony to start—wait for her time to come—eagerly, because really, there is nothing scary about this, not when it simply means binding her life to Pansy's.

And there is nothing easier, nothing simpler, than that.