SPEAK NOW
Tags: Matrimony, Pining, Unrequited love
"If there is anyone here present who can show just cause why these two persons may not be joined in matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace."
"Dearly beloved… We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of–"
Draco felt sick. No matter how deeply he tried to breathe, air couldn't seem to reach the bottom of his lungs. The chocolate croissant he barely finished during breakfast was inching up his throat, alongside the bitter aftertaste of brewed black coffee.
Three years ago, he never would have believed this was possible. There's no way it would happen, he'd tell himself repeatedly. This whole thing would run its course eventually, he'd nod along in reassurance. But as he gazed up at the strange muggle altar right in front of him, he knew there was no turning back now.
"If there is anyone here present who can show just cause why these two persons may not be joined in matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace."
The booming sound of the priest's voice reverberating through the walls of the church made his heart stop.
Could he…
Would he?
He opened his mouth to make a noise, scrambling to find the words he wanted–needed to say; but the collar of his tuxedo suit felt like hands around his throat, blocking his ability to speak.
I object, he screamed in his head.
I object!
He could feel the cords in his throat straining, struggling to get a sound out; but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't find his voice. He scanned the crowd, hoping to spot someone, anyone who could put a stop to all of this; but all he could see were teary eyes and smiling faces oblivious to his suffering.
Only he could hear his silent protest. No one else could.
"Do you, Theodore Nott, take this woman to be your wife, to live together in holy matrimony, to love her, to honor her, to comfort her, and to keep her in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?"
"I do."
Draco couldn't bring himself to look away from the beaming face of his childhood best friend as he held onto the hands of the woman he loved.
"Do you, Hermione Granger, take this man to be your husband, to live together in holy matrimony, to love him, to honor him, to comfort him, and to keep him in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?"
"I do."
Draco didn't think it was possible for his heart to break further after everything it's already endured for the past three years. But as he stared at the shining eyes of the woman he dreamed of marrying one day, staring at his best friend as if he was her entire world, he was sure what little piece of it left had crumbled into ash.
"I, Theodore Nott, take you, Hermione Granger, to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish, till death do us part."
He wanted to leave.
He wanted to leave.
He couldn't watch this any longer. He couldn't take anymore.
Please, he pleaded to no one in particular. Please, he looked up at the golden cross stationed in the middle of the altar; a kaleidoscope of colors swirling around it as the sunlight danced across stained-glass windows.
No more.
"I, Hermione Granger, take you, Theodore Nott, to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish, till death do us part."
Draco looked away when a pair of platinum gold rings came into view. He could still picture the front door of the quaint muggle jewelry store Theo and Hermione had bought it from. It was in an old brick building away from the hustle and bustle of the city, manned by an old couple who claimed they've escaped a war by becoming illegal immigrants, meeting one another at the height of all the chaos.
He looked down at the rings resting artfully on a square velvet cushion; the embossed message they wrote for one another hidden on the underside of the metal. He would know about it of course.
He was right there when they had it done.
He was there, too, when Theo got down on one knee, asking for Hermione's hand in marriage. His childhood best friend had been reduced to a useless bundle of nerves, so it had been up to him to set up the surprise. His chateau in France, catering from Hermione's favorite Italian restaurant, thousands of her favorite flowers, a few secret invitations… It had been worth it in the end.
He got to see her smile.
He was also there when they first announced they were officially together at Thanksgiving, making him choke on the vintage wine Theo brought out for the occasion. She cupped his cheeks in her hands then, checking on him when he tried to brush it away.
He never thought a human touch could feel like Fiendfyre.
He was there as well when they met officially for the first time, never having interacted back at Hogwarts. This particular incident he remembered like the back of his hand. They were at a private island in Greece celebrating his 27th birthday after all.
He introduced them.
"I give you this ring as a token and pledge of our constant faith and abiding love…"
He tore his gaze away from their hands, focusing on his shoes instead.
He thought they wouldn't last. He thought it would just be a passing fancy – a quick fling. Even after a year of being together, he felt strongly about their imminent separation. He could feel it in his gut.
It would only be a matter of time.
Then one year turned to two. A relationship turned into an engagement. And now, a little over three years since the night of his 27th birthday, they were getting married. He closed his eyes, trying his best to block out the sound of their vows.
Could he still speak against it? Could he still stop this nightmare from happening? Could he… Would he…
Would he ever get to tell her he loved her?
That he was still in love with her.
That he probably always will until the day he took his very last breath.
"I now pronounce you husband and wife."
He reached a hand over his chest, using every ounce of his self-control not to double over in pain.
He couldn't breathe.
He couldn't breathe.
Those words were like a knife to his already nonexistent heart.
"You may now kiss the bride."
He watched his best friend place a hand on his wife's cheek, running a thumb affectionately over her skin, the way he always wished he could. They leaned in slowly, savoring the moment.
Until their lips finally met.
A chorus of cheers erupted as the ceremony finally came to an end. Just as Theo began to pull away, Hermione held him still – hands cupping the back of his neck, lips passionately seeking his once more.
Draco raised his hands up, mechanically clapping along with the rest of the guests. He fought the tears building up in his eyes, glad they wouldn't look out of place at a wedding. When he saw them start to make their way down the altar, he walked away.
Finally.
Finally, he could leave.
"Draco!"
He turned around just in time to see Hermione rushing towards him, pulling him into a tight hug that left him breathless. Slowly, gingerly, as if she was made of glass, he wrapped his arms around her. He closed his eyes, inhaling against the soft curls of her hair.
Roses. She smelled like roses.
He nuzzled his cheek against her temple, basking in her warmth, engraving the memory in his head as he allowed himself to pretend.
She was his, this was their wedding, and from now on, he would wake up to her wonderful smile every single day for the rest of his life.
A kiss landed on his cheek. Quick. Platonic. But that one short touch of her lips against his skin was enough to chase away every heartbreak he's had to endure for the past three years.
He looked down at her flushed cheeks, memorizing the contours of her face, her smile. The happiness thrumming through every part of her body made her look every bit like a blushing bride. You look beautiful, he stopped himself from saying, letting out a breath instead.
This was enough.
He reached his hands out towards her, pulling her in for one last hug. He placed one hand on the back of her neck, another around her waist, as he leaned in to press his lips on her temple, lingering longer than he knew was appropriate.
This was enough.
At least, in the end, he still got to kiss the bride.
"Thank you." She whispered in his ear just before she pulled away.
Theo was right beside them now, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "None of this would have happened if it weren't for you." He smiled as he moved in for a hug as well.
Draco returned the gesture in silence, unable to bring himself to say a word. The stark reminder of his role in their love story left him feeling numb. Gone was the piercing, clawing ache in his chest. All that was left was an emptiness he couldn't define – couldn't fathom.
"Really, Draco…" Hermione took his hand in hers. "Thank you."
He threw each of them a glance; a practiced smile etched perfectly on his face. "Anything for the both of you."
Theo grabbed the sides of his face, playfully kissing him hard on the cheek, making Hermione laugh out loud. "I'll see you at the reception, best man!" He hastily ruffled Draco's hair, chuckling as he took off before any retaliations could take place.
Draco ran a hand through his messy locks, combing them away from his face. He never thought there was a kind of pain that could leave him feeling… nothing.
Was this what death felt like?
It was as if his entire existence decided everything was just too much… and it's had enough.
No more.
He allowed himself one last look at their backs as they threaded through the crowd.
I'm sorry.
He blinked at the image of him standing outside a cozy muggle cottage, staring up at the stunned face of Hermione Granger.
That was how it all began for him and her – his stammering apology, her invitation for coffee. It was awkward and tense at first, but they gradually settled into something more amicable, enough that they could introduce the other as a friend.
It didn't take long for him to realize he yearned for something more.
It started with an urge to take her hand while they strolled through the streets of muggle London. He would look for opportunities to get closer, engaging in small, harmless gestures like plucking a leaf off her hair, placing his jacket over her shoulders, steering her through a crowd of people.
He took things slow – not wanting to scare her off, not wanting to seem insincere. If he was going to make her his, he needed to do things right.
His.
He let out a soundless, bitter laugh.
She wasn't his.
Never was.
And by the looks of it, never will be.
He moved to turn away with every intention of walking out of their lives once and for all, but his eyes caught hers from a distance. She was waving back at him with that same smile that always managed to make his heart stop.
See you, she mouthed.
He raised a hand up in the air before he even realized, already waving back. Perhaps he could spare a few more minutes for the reception? He pocketed his hands, watching as flower petals rained down on the newlyweds. He let out a long, tired breath, deciding he might as well just stay.
He's been at this for the past three years anyway.
What was one night more?
A/N: Oh my god I have a problem. I absolutely love making Draco suffer. I don't understand, but I do. And here we finally have Theo making an appearance in this anthology, only to take Hermione right out from under Draco's nose!
Originally written for the Weeping Willow Fest (and planned on continuing it all the way to the reception), but I saw on my Tumblr that it's been cancelled, so I decided to place it here instead.
Thank you so much for reading! See you in the next one-shot :)