I do not own: I make zero profit in the making of this, nor do I own any rights to the characters.

This is just a little plot bunny one shot I got inspired by with a girl I saw and a FB reel about how she was left at the altar and just partied. And I loved that for her so naturally, I had to do it for my ship. Sorry, not sorry.

Please enjoy: this will not be added at all.

I don't know why I didn't ignore the ivory invitation with her signature cursive writing that was almost taunting me from its pinned spot on the wall.

I don't know why I paid extra attention to my pocket square colour as I dressed for the day. I don't know why I made sure my shoes were buffed and polished.

And I don't know why I'm not surprised by the turn of events that happened today.

It was her wedding: yet she is groom less, slightly drunk, and smiling more tonight than she has in the months leading up to tonight.

We have grown close over the years: our offices sharing a very thin wall was the catalyst of what brought us together again.

It was small at first: her muggle music box slowly got louder and louder as days turned into nights with the projects she was working on. I finally had enough and stormed in and demanded that if she were to play music, she would select something worth listening to.

The silence and the blank stare she gave me in the moments after my outburst in her office made every instinct I had scream at me to run. But then she laughed. It was enough of an icebreaker to take at the moment: she was essentially wearing muggle slacks and what can only be described as little more than a camisole for a top. Her hair was twisted and pinned back with a few wild strays framing her face, which had a pair of black framed lenses on her nose and ink marks in the corner of her lips.

It was that moment when things changed for us: going from not acknowledging the very presence of the other, to friendly banter of muggle versus Wizarding. Within weeks, we moved to debates larger than that, and as we bantered, we learned.

She takes her tea with lemon and honey when she starts to feel ill, but her preference is to have a slash of cream only. Something about never getting a taste for sugar as a child.

I know when she wears her glasses, she hasn't slept more than ten hours in days, and she is beyond tired: this is when she gets short with people who waste her time.

I know that when she is focused on her task, she will operate on autopilot: this is something I noticed whenever I would give her a muffin. She would flip it over and eat from the bottom up little by little in ripped chunks. Because the top is the best part, she says.

I know when her eyes are puffy, she is torn between being hurt and being mad.

I never planned on paying this close attention to her, but with each passing day, it got harder and harder to ignore. Slowly, she got further and further embedded into my life.

But even with our growing relationship-somethings never changes. Her heart was given away years ago; I knew that then, just as I know it now. But even still, my affection grew.

So tonight, his unsurprising actions gave me a renewed sense of optimism.

He has always been meek in comparison. Where she shined, he was dull. She grew over time, and he clung to the ground he was safe on.

She was quick on her feet and questioned all. She listened to facts and reason. She wanted to understand, learn, and change the world she entered.

He wanted the stability of what he knew.

His cowardice has always been his default, but tonight was a low I didn't think we would ever go to.

To wait till she was at the altar in front of her family and friends to call the wedding off. To watch her body stiffen in a way, I only see her do when our supervisor calls us in for a meeting. To see her eyes hardened like that as you grabbed the hand of one of her bridesmaids as you hightailed it out of the chapel.

And it was back to the silence that I felt back in that office all those years ago. And I swear a part of me thought when our eyes met in that chaple it made my heart stop beating for a moment. Because she smiled, threw her head back, and laughed.

She told everyone to stay and enjoy the evening: catering, pictures, everything was already paid for so they may as well enjoy it.

So now I am here, watching her in her wedding dress spin from one set of arms to another with a smile painted on her face. I down the last bit of the whiskey and straightened my tie as I crossed the floor.

Tapping the shoulder of the wonder boy himself so I may cut in: with a lifted eye from him and a nod from her, he placed her small hand in mine. And I can feel my heart beating in my throat.

The music changed to a slow rhythmic melody, and my hand dropped to her waist. My fingers pressed into her hip through the layers of lace and satin.

"Glad to see your music selection for the evening isn't complete drivel."

I heard the smirk in her voice as she answered, "Well, I happen to have an office mate that has influenced my taste over the years."

I allow myself to smirk as the song plays on.

"A man of taste."

"I believe I can quote him saying -" she cleared her throat as she tilted her head up and tried to deepen her voice, " nothing but the best -"

I pulled her flush against my chest before I spun her from my body and back again. Not letting her get a gap between us again.

I lowered my head to her ear, "Nothing but the best indeed." Spinning together, it felt like the world dissolved around me, and all my hesitation vanished. "And word on the street that the best witch has recently become single."

The air between us became thick, but the feel of lace between my hand and hers was what was keeping me grounded. I spun her again.

"I will not be rude and inconsiderate of your feelings tonight, but know from here on out, I intend to pursue you with the intent of this right here.

I want this. I want to see you walking towards me one day. I want to have the boy who keeps on living to give me the - if you ever hurt her- talking to. I want my kids to have the beautiful curly hair you have. I want to spend Saturdays lying in bed watching the telly."

The song was at the end with one final dip: when I brought her back up, her wide eyes encouraged my ego. With one swift movement, I brought her fingers to my lips and placed a small lingering kiss on the knuckles.

"Have a good night, Granger,"

I moved to drop her hand, but she was quicker than I was and grabbed my wrist. And by the expression she was making, it was obvious she didn't plan on actually being able to grab me. I could practically see the gears turning in her head as she tried to formulate a sentence. Her lips parted like a fish as the words failed to be uttered.

"You said it yourself my dear, a Malfoy always gets the best."