Chapter Three: The Past
"Ordinarily he was insane, but he had lucid moments when he was merely stupid."--Heinrich Heine
Two weeks until the big day. A mere fourteen days until her childhood friend, occasional crush, and all around ideal man tied the knot to the most undeserving woman she had ever met in her entire life. While it bothered her that the ungrateful little witch was getting such a sweet, if somewhat clueless, wizard to have and to hold for the rest of their days, after much reflection she decided it would probably be even harder if Cynthia had been perfect for Ron. Of course, that line of thinking always made her feel lower than dirt because she was practically wishing her best friend a lifetime of heartache.
She had run the gambit of emotions over the last three weeks as she watched from the sidelines while Mrs. Weasley nagged Ron to within an inch of his life over seating arrangements and caterers. Try as she might, she couldn't miss the wistful looks Mrs. Weasley would throw her way every so often as if to say, 'This wasn't the way it was supposed to happen but I love you anyway despite the fact that you're a big coward and lack the spirit of a true Gryffindor.'
Maybe that wasn't exactly what she was trying to convey but Hermione knew a look when she saw one.
At first, she had fallen back on her favorite coping mechanism: denial. She was good at it, having loads of experience, and had been sure it would serve her well once again. Unfortunately, for about the third time since she was old enough to read, she was wrong.
Having been failed by old reliable, she had made her way through anger, fear, confusion, giddiness (courtesy of Ginny Weasley and a bottle of wine), and had settled into cold acceptance with a side of bittersweet emotions. There really wasn't much she could do besides declaring her undying love for him and, though she was growing surer with every passing hour that love was what kept her awake at night and fantasizing during the day, friendship kept her silent. She respected what they had too much to taint his memories of his wedding with an eleventh-hour plea.
Not that she didn't dream of him knocking on her door after coming to his senses and making love—
"I thought that since we were having the ceremony here, it wouldn't be as much work," Ron stated as he dropped heavily into his father's favorite armchair. "She's gone completely mad."
"You haven't exactly been helpful," Harry pointed out, taking the seat next to her with an amused smile. "She's going to flip when she finds out that you told Fred and George they could try their new fireworks at the reception."
"I figured at least someone should be having fun at the ceremony," he muttered, running his fingers through his already wild hair.
"Don't worry, that's what the wedding night is for," someone said. Seeing the shocked expressions her two friends were sending her way, she belated realized it had been her. Wondering if her mind and her heart had finally seen eye to eye and called a truce, allowing her to feign indifference and maintain a pleasant numbness, she snapped her mouth shut and waited. Ah, there was the hurt and pain . . . it really was too good to be true.
"And what would you know about it?"
Hermione could feel her mouth gape at the harshness of Ron's question but instead of answering, she pried herself out of the loveseat and left without a word. Harry's voice, hard and menacing, carried into the dining room but she blocked it out. She ran her hands over the various ugly clocks and matching tea sets that had begun arriving a few days ago, cattily thinking that her relatives would have given much better gifts.
Vaguely, she wondered what to get the man who had promised her everything and offered nothing. What was the appropriate gift to say, 'It should have been me you big ass even though I never gave you any indication or encouragement and laughed when people suggested the idea . . . you should have known.'
Somehow, she doubted candlesticks would get the point across.
And she'd walk down the aisle with Draco Malfoy before she'd buy them something for their bedroom. Petty perhaps but her sanity was already hanging by a thread.
Sighing, she figured she had given Harry enough time to satisfy his quasi- older brother tendencies and Ron to cool down. She walked back into the living room, watching as Ron whispered fervently to his best friend, Harry nodding briskly with a no-nonsense expression on his face. She cleared her throat a la Umbridge and watched with growing curiosity as Ron jumped nervously and Harry worked hard to make it seem coincidental that he wasn't making eye contact. Something was definitely going on . . . she'd have to get Harry off by himself and wiggle it out of him.
"I'm on my way out," she announced quietly.
"But Mum's making dinner—"
"I'm behind at work and if I'm going to have to take off Thursday to get fitted for that blasted dress, I have to get some research done tonight."
"I'll walk you to the gate," Ron offered, knowing that Percy and Bill had placed charms around the Burrow to keep people from apparating in and out after the attack at the Ministry.
She waved him away, suddenly wanting nothing more than to never see his kind face again. "No, I'll be fine. I'll see you in a few days."
Before either of them could stop her, she walked out. The twilight shone beautifully on the clear night so far removed from the lights of the city. It would make a lovely setting for the wedding, the field alive with fireflies and the sound of wind in the trees.
With a flick of her wand, she repeated 'What doesn't kill you makes you stronger' over and over again as the scene faded to black and she was once again in her empty apartment.