The truth was: Hermione didn't think she was ready to get married.

Everything began to fall into place; the flower and catering orders came through successfully and Hermione's mom sent her a copy of the wedding announcement for her to approve. It was standard white with gold embellished script since she and Harry didn't exactly have many happy memories together and even fewer photos of the two of them. The announcement did serve its purpose though.

She took one to the Weasley's the first day they were printed. She knocked on the screen door and Molly called for her to simply come in. Ginny was sitting at the bar in blue overalls that ended in shorts and a t-shirt. They hugged, exchanged greetings, and then Hermione handed her the cardstock paper.

"Oh, Hermione! It's lovely! Look at the detailing!"

"Thank you, Ginny."

"Mum, look, it's Hermione's marriage announcement!"

"Oh, I didn't know you were getting married, Hermione?"

"Yeah."

"Who's the groom?"

"Harry Potter."

"Not for real?"

"Yeah, the ministry sort of paired us up together. Neither of us get tons of say in it."

"Yeah, but…"

"But?"

"It can't be that bad. I mean… it's Harry Potter."

Hermione spent many long hours in her home and in her office thinking. She wasn't in love with Harry, and she doubted she ever could be. She had no idea how their life together would work out, or even where she'd be living in two months. Everything in her body was telling her there was something distinctly wrong with her situation. Sure, Harry was nice, but all she could imagine him being was a distant friend. Someone she caught up with, not stayed in close contact with.

How could she get married when she hadn't kissed him? How could they live with each other when they'd only had one successful date? How could their lives mingle, how could they support each other, how could they resist falling into divorce when they didn't have that strong foundation of a relationship between them?

Somehow, an invisible force was pulling all the seams together though. Her dress arrived on schedule, packaged in a little box with protection charms. She got a bank notification that the Potter and Granger accounts would be merged into one, and the location they requested at a little church beside a river was approved.

She and Harry had a long conversation on housing via owl over one Tuesday. He was currently living in a house he'd inherited from his parents, but he didn't like it because it was cold and big and lonely. She loved her little house and its historical value, but she couldn't see it working out in the long run. They debated the few other properties he had listed as war spoils, and found a moderate-sized place nearerish to the ministry that sat on three acres and smelled like lavender. Both he and she were packing up things to send over. He had a house-elf, sort of, who was actually a free elf and who was paid a wage. Hermione was impressed with that. The House Elf's name was Dobby, and Dobby liked Harry much more than Hermione but was always very kind and understanding of her. Dobby agreed to pop by at the end of each day and take boxes of things to their new residence, where he'd put them away and make sure everything was clean. The days started bleeding quicker, and soon Hermione's little home was empty.

She was running out of time.

The newspapers caught wind of the inevitable and her coworkers started to talk. She temporarily halted her Daily Prophet subscription because she couldn't stand the headlines announcing everything and she spent more and more time burying herself in her work. After all, she still needed to figure out how the process for electing a non-corrupt Minister for Magic was going to go and the new Muggle Relations sect wanted to know how much wielding power they had to enforce the laws under their domain. The aurors were a bunch of newbies with no real training, but that would start to change since they had asked her fiancé to take over training them. He wanted to know whether or not he could use fire in training them. Actual fire. Dear Goodness…

She was so busy she almost forgot about their follow-up date to the Humboldt Universitat, but Harry was patient with her and they did have a great time that night, which was nice since she needed the break. With the success of that date though, came a new worry. She had no romantic attachment to Harry and was increasingly seeing him as only a friend. She began to be afraid that her own feelings would be the deciding factor in a loveless marriage.

Things sped up. Everything was moving so fast. Work, sleep, write Harry, wedding stuff, work, eat before she starved to death, and repeat in whatever order would get the most stuff done. A month and a half bled into one, which bled into two weeks, then only one week was left and suddenly there was no more work to be done. Not because she finished it, but because she was on work leave. She had nothing to do because her house had been emptied of all the things she'd brought in to make a home and no one visited her and she had no one to visit.

Six days. She and Harry's letter-writing had fizzled out at some point. She couldn't remember when though.

Five days. She visited her new house for the first time and loved the ivy hanging from the trees and climbing up the walls. She loved the porch swing and the grey stones the house was built of and loved how the master bedroom took up an entire side of the upper floor so the sun rose on one side and set on the other. She loved the dusty curtains that smelled like sunshine and she loved how Dobby had managed to put all her books on an entire wall in the living room. And she hated herself for loving it because she also loved her current house and knew she'd miss it terribly.

Four days. Shouldn't she and Harry be trying to spend time together?

Three days. Her mom and dad came by to live with her until after the wedding. It was nice to have her parents there to look after her.

Two days. Not much to be said.

One more day. Her friends from school took her to the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade for lunch. All they wanted to talk about was her famous fiancé.

She started counting hours as evening came. 15, 14, 13, and she fell asleep somewhere in between that and 11.

Then her eyes opened with 4 hours left, and it was her wedding day, and she was a mess.

"Mom, I can't get my hair to work." Hermione complained to her mom as she tried to wipe her sweaty palms with a tissue, to no avail. Her mom, with hair ties down her forearms, chuckled and helped pull Hermione's sweaty bangs off her face. She sat in a spinny chair in a slip with immaculate makeup and a mess of hair on her head. Ginny slipped in with smudged makeup. Her boyfriend Dean Thomas was here, and likely walking around now with red on him.

Ginny picked up a hairbrush and walked over to help Jean brush out Hermione's wild locks. Together, they managed to piece together the strands into an extremely thick braided bun atop her head with pretty curls dangling off her neck. Ginny touched up the makeup she'd already finished to perfection and Jean floated over to pick up the dress from its box. It came up with hardly a fold on it, and the three of them stared at it for a few seconds.

Her dress was beautiful. Harry had insisted she have a special dress for the special day , even though she had insisted it wasn't practical to put so much money toward something she'd only wear one day. She couldn't say she wasn't happy with it though. It was one of the most beautiful things she'd ever seen. She stepped forward and fingered the owl design the covered the bodice. "Hedwig." She explained to Ginny and her mom. Then she took a deep breath. "Could you please help me into it?"

With the girls' combined efforts, they managed to get Hermione into the white garment. When all zippers and snaps were done up and complete, they all stood together in front of the mirror and examined it.

"It's one of the prettiest dresses I've ever seen," Ginny sniffed.

Hermione's mom brushed some of the boy hairs at the nape of her neck. "You look beautiful Hermione," She told her. But Hermione couldn't bring herself to agree with her mother because she didn't look like a bride. She looked like someone playing dress-up. It felt fake. Hermione didn't feel like a bride with her shoulders curling forward and the dead look in her eyes.

"Jean! Ginny!" Someone called from the hallway. "We need your help down with the flower girls! Are you done with Hermione yet?"

Hermione's mother rested a hand on her shoulder. "We have to go." She murmured. "I love you." Hermione nodded. She and Ginny slipped out.

Somehow Hermione knew that those would be the last words her mom spoke to her before the ceremony. The last words she'd hear before she changed her name and started a new life. That thought stung. She felt like someone was sticking needles into her heart and she felt heat build up in her eyes. It hurt, that heat. It was burning her. She got a headache and her back ached so she curled up and got a tissue to wipe the tears away as fast as they were coming because she knew she'd have to look presentable. Her soul was grieving for her lost choices and the missing part of her life she hadn't figured out. She was being wracked with pain, and believe it or not, that wasn't a fun feeling.

This, she thought. This is what a broken heart feels like

The chapel was buzzing with conversation as the organ played softly. Charlie Weasley was sitting behind the organ. He didn't know how to play, but neither did anyone else, so they'd charmed the organ to play itself and Charlie had volunteered to sit behind it so Hermione's muggle family wouldn't notice.

Everything was kept small for the sake of the press, who were still scavenging for crumbs of a story like hungry vultures. The press hadn't been able to get the date of the ceremony, so Hermione wasn't too worried, but Harry had been paranoid about the whole thing.

The wedding march began inside. A small girl whom she did not know but would have to thank later threw a handful of flower petals at Hermione with a bright smile, and then walked down the aisle. There were chuckles from inside. Hermione craned her neck to see.

"She's throwing more petals on the audience than on the aisle," Ginny whispered urgently. Jean laughed softly. Hermione smiled, and that helped ease some of the nerves.

Ginny was her only bridesmaid, and Jean was her maid of honor. After they left the corridor, it felt much emptier. Hermione closed her eyes and struggled to breathe.

Someone whispered to her that it was time, so she stepped around the corner and began to walk down the aisle. The audience grew breathtakingly silent. Everyone rose to stand as she passed. It was a long aisle stretching about fifty feet inside the church. The group she and Harry had invited was small though, and mostly invited by Harry since he had social connections and she only had work connections. The first twenty pews were empty, and then everything else was lightly filled with people.

She swallowed.

She noticed many people from her Hogwarts years: Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, and Padma Patil, and her twin sister. The entire Weasley family was in the pew behind her mom, dad, aunt, uncle, grandparents, and cousins. She felt her heart swell with gratitude for them.

The pew that should have held Harry's family was empty. The sight made her stomach drop and her cheeks felt hollow.

She locked eyes with Harry on the stand and examined him. He looked uncomfortable, but dare-she-say-it, awed. She tried to smile at him. He tried to smile back. She stepped up the two stairs by the alter and Harry reached out to take her hand.

"You look lovely." He whispered. She laughed softly and relaxed a little.

"You look striking yourself." She murmured. His hair wasn't as messy as it usually was, but it would never pass as straight. She giggled nervously to herself as she brushed his lapel to straighten out the fold.

The priest began to speak. She had these words memorized since a wedding was technically a magical-binding contract. That meant she'd had to review it back when the ministry was deciding on which contracts to put back into circulation. The marriage contract had been an easy one to decide on.

There was a pause in which she suddenly realized that Harry and the priest and everyone were looking at her. They must have asked if she agreed to this marriage.

"I do." She said, though she really didn't agree.

The priest smiled at her and turned to Harry. "And do you, Harry James Potter, agree to take Hermione Granger as your lawfully wedded wife, for as long as you both shall live?"

Harry didn't meet her eyes as he said: "I do."

"Are there any more vows you would like to say?" The priest asked.

"None." Harry shook his head. He still wasn't looking at her. Hermione looked away with tears stinging her eyes. Not out to the audience, but away so they couldn't see her ugly frown as she bit the inside of her lip to keep from screaming.

"None." She repeated.

"Without further ado, you may kiss the bride." The priest announced and stepped away.

She continued facing away from the audience until she felt Harry drop one of her hands and tug her face towards his just a little. She closed her eyes for just a second and felt him move closer and plant a quick kiss on the side of her mouth. It was like he'd went to kiss her cheek but missed.

The crowd cheered though. Jean started crying. Dan put his head in his hands and sobbed. Harry led her down toward the pews and delivered her back into the hands of her family. Her aunt and uncle and parents and grandparents. Everyone was congratulating her. There were many bright and beautiful smiles, none of which were her own.

Harry went to sit on his empty family pew as soon as everyone focused on Hermione. She was, of course, the one in the dress. The focal point. They all went to congratulate her, and he went to sit where other families had happily watched their sons get married.

The pew didn't look any more full with that empty soul there.

It was a beautiful wedding. Even she would admit that. She had taken the time to ask Harry where the money had come from but he had just shrugged and asked if she was enjoying herself.

She wished she was enjoying it more, actually. After all, Harry and she had spent lots of money making this all come together.

The wedding was Muggle-Based. Wizards were asked to refrain from using magic around Muggles and Muggles understood that lots of people at the wedding were foreign. That was a private joke that she and Ginny giggled about.

She and Harry had the first dance, of course. And that, to be honest, was fun. He'd extended a hand and waited for her to take it. He'd led her to the floor and started to sway, and eventually, they were spinning and he made her do ten turns in a row and he even did a few inelegant, underarm spins himself. He swung her around, and when they started to slow down he put her arm on his shoulder and put her head on it. They danced to O Children and when they sat down Hermione knew it was a memory she'd hold dear to her heart for a long time. The fake glitter train her dress left made the experience truly magical. It was another one of those moments that made Hermione think: We could make this work. It will work.

She was snacking on her carrot cake when another hand appeared in her field of vision and she heard another man ask: "May I have this dance?" Hermione looked up and saw that it was Ronald, the youngest son in the Weasley family. He was the same age as she and Harry, if she remembered correctly. In school, he had managed to remain just above the level of a dunce, but he was nice and had worked hard to get to know lots of people. She'd never really been in his circle though.

"Sure." She agreed. He reached for her hand and pulled her onto the floor. He awkwardly tried to put his hand on her ribcage and began to sway back and forth.

"I, um, don't really know how to dance." He admitted with a blush.

Hermione laughed a little.

"It's um, hard to believe you're getting married!" Ron tried to start a conversation.

"I know. It all went so fast. You've got your list, haven't you?" Hermione replied.

"Yeah, I have."

"Any lucky girls yet?"

Ron guffawed. "Lucky? Stuck with someone like me? They'd all much rather have your man." His words and tone stopped Hermione cold. Ron stumbled when she stopped swaying with him. She quickly resumed.

"You shouldn't talk about yourself like that. There's plenty of lovely women who will love you for you." She told him. Hermione patted his shoulder and smiled serenely.

"Does he love you for who you are?" Ron challenged her with a hard look in his eyes. Hermione stared at him for several seconds, then looked over his shoulder and caught sight of her brand-new husband talking to Mrs, Weasley, Ginny, and her parents.

"No." She admitted. A heavy burden set on her soul. "He doesn't. Not yet, anyway." She looked back up and met Ron's eyes. "But then again, who does?" Ron didn't respond.

When the song ended, he walked her back to her seat. Before he took his leave, he bent down and kissed her on the cheek softly. When he walked away, Hermione's cheek felt like it was on fire. He'd kissed her only inches from where Harry had kissed her earlier that day.

Ginny appeared out of the crowd. "Oh, Hermione!" She cried. "I just can't believe you're a married woman now!"

Hermione smiled at her long-time friend. "Yes, Ginny. It's crazy, isn't it?"

Ginny nodded with a bright smile. "When are you going to toss your bouquet?"

"Soon. Are you hoping to catch it?"

Ginny nodded with a bright light in her eyes. She leaned forward and whispered loudly: "Don't tell anyone, but I think Dean might already have a ring."

Hermione frowned. "But… it's only been three months? Are you sure?"

Ginny nodded. "I saw a receipt in the car. And anyway, other couples have gotten married quicker."

Two hands landed on her shoulders. Hermione looked up and met Harry's green eyes. He leaned down to whisper in her ear: "Are you ready to cut the cake?"

She did her best to beam up at him. "Whenever you are." She told him. He shrugged and removed a hand to help her up. She took it, but let go immediately afterward. If anyone noticed that the bride wasn't worried about touching the groom too much, they didn't say anything or give her any weird looks.

They cut the fancy cake and helped pass it out to the guests a little. When Harry turned around with a slice for her, she smiled primly and pressed it firmly into his hands. "I already have a slice, back at the table."

It was lovely to catch up with everyone. Many of Hermione's family hadn't seen her in years. She had gotten wrapped up in ministry work and eventually forgot about them. Everyone was very interested in meeting Harry and talking to him.

Before the evening ended, Hermione threw her banquet. The moment it left her hands, she spun around to watch it land in Ginny's outstretched palms, who beamed in pride. Hermione's eyes sought out Dean Thomas, and she noticed he was smiling as well, but one hand was hidden deep in his pocket. Well, she thought. I guess Ginny was right after all.

Guests began to leave just before dark. As lights flickered on and the courtyards became emptier, Hermione found herself spending more and more time alone. She finally slipped back inside and sat down in the front row, where she removed her shoes and stared blandly at the stained glass window above the altar. It was a picture of the plan of happiness, which Jesus in the center of it. She examined the little pieces of glass and considered how long it must have taken to make something of that scale. After a long while, she heard the door open and turned to see Harry poking his head in.

He walked up and sat beside her on the pew. Hermione let her eyes trace the delicate outline of a glass lily.

"Are you ready to go?" Harry asked quietly.

Hermione didn't look at him. She kept her eyes trained on the colorful glass. "No." She admitted.

The following conversation was entirely silent, with touches that didn't involve any contact. He stayed as far away as she was still. Tie untied and shoes on the floor, under a picture of the ultimate peacemaker with no peace in either of their hearts.

He apparated Hermione home and opened the door for her as she walked inside. The only light came from a wall plug-in that also released the scent of apples throughout the small home. And suddenly Hermione was very nervous. She turned to Harry.

"I'm going to go take a quick shower. Is that okay?"

He nodded without meeting her eyes, so she walked around the brown cloth couch to the stairs. She was careful to not trip on her dress as she climbed up. The bathroom was directly in front of her at the top of the stairwell, with an empty loft to the left and a hallway leading to the master bedroom to the right. She shut the door and started the water, and a few seconds after that thought she heard Harry climbing the stairs.

She summoned her clothes from the master bedroom and used magic to pull the zipper down on the back of her dress. Hermione dropped a bath bomb into the tub, and took her time washing her hair and shaving her legs. She knew Harry was waiting for her, and it had been a long day for him as well, but a fear was holding her back. He didn't love her. What if he decided after tonight that he didn't even like her?

After about twenty minutes, Hermione finally argued herself to the brink of insanity and convinced herself to get out of the tub. She towled off and stared at her clothes for a long time before she got dressed. She brushed her teeth and waited until all the colorful water was out of the tub before she finally unlocked the door.

The house was quiet. No lights had been turned on downstairs. A lamplight shone from their bedroom. She walked in, and noticed Harry's suit hanging over the cedar chest at the bast of the bed. Harry himself was in bed, on his stomach, clutching a pillow, and fast asleep.

He'd gone to sleep without her.

This subtle rejection cut her deeply. She closed her eyes and bit her cheek. It had been a long day. He was probably exhausted. He'd had to put on as much of a front as she had. There was no reason to be offended he was too tired to try and love her on their wedding night. Nevertheless, silent tears started to fall. She put her dress next to Harry's and her underclothes into the laundry hamper. She blew her nose once before she switched off the lamp and pulled the covers up to her ears.

Sleep would not come. Her side of the bed was unnaturally warm whereas her bed in her house that she'd left behind was comfortably cool everytime she climbed into it. She continued to shake with tears that soaked into her pillow, and told herself to take deep breaths for several minutes until the initial sting of the hurt had worn off, and she began to breathe normally. Even then, her mind would not shut down.

They would leave for a two-week long honeymoon tomorrow, during which neither of them would have work to excuse themselves from the other's company with. She didn't have the best track record for patience with Harry Potter, but it was always worth another shot now that they were spending their lives together.

Just as she got her mind to settle down, she felt a dramatic shift towards Harry's side of the mattress. His lamp flicked on. Hermione shut her eyes from the light and squinted to observe his messy head of black hair sit up. He sighed, rubbed his eyes, and stood up. She heard him walk to the bathroom, use the toilet, brush his teeth, and then come back in.

He did not seem in the least bit sleepy. Tired, maybe, but there was no stretching, or yawning, or any signs that he'd just woken up. Before he reentered the room, she sat up a little and saw that only ten minutes had passed since she'd come in.

That little turd had been awake! And he'd let her think he was asleep!

Hermione closed her eyes as her thoughts began to race. She couldn't remember seeing Harry peeking under his lashes or breathing deeply as if he was asleep, but she hadn't been paying attention either. She'd only wanted to go straight to bed after thinking he'd gone to bed without her.

Harry eventually laid back down and switched the light off, and all was still in the room except for Hermione's boiling blood. Harry clearly thought that she was asleep and that he had avoided her knowledge. Well… two could play at that game.

Hermione feigned a sleep movement and rolled onto her other side, facing away from Harry. From here, she could see her alarm clock. She counted the seconds mentally and watched as the clock ticked minutes away. If the average human person took seven to fourteen minutes to fall asleep and she wanted to ensure Harry was coherent enough to put together her wrath, then she needed to wait no more than five minutes.

She struck at four. She thought she heard Harry's breathing slow down, so with an ugly frown, she leaned over and flicked her lamp on, exactly as he had done. She felt him still, and heard him hold his breath.

I got you, she thought. I got you!

She stood up and walked downstairs for a quick glass of water since she was feeling thirsty anyway. When she came back upstairs, she found Harry had turned away from her side of the bed. His frame was very still. In the lamplight, she could see his eyelids open and close several times. She didn't call him out on it though. His trick had served its purpose. She turned out the light and faced away from him. She didn't cry again, and neither of them turned on the lamp again that night.