..:: Chapter 2 – Flashback ::..
In a bathroom just off the bride's dressing room, Hermione was currently kneeling over the toilet, retching up what little breakfast she had eaten.
Ginny opened the door. "Come on, Hermione!" She saw Hermione's pale face. "Oh, you're just nervous. Go on, rinse out your mouth, you need to get into your dress!" she said briskly.
Trust Ginny to be the only one keeping her head. Ron was probably even more nervous than Neville in Potions with Snape an inch away from him. Hermione staggered out of the bathroom.
"Hurry up!" Ginny said, stripping Hermione down to a slip and carefully handing her the wedding gown to step into. "Oh, you look beautiful in it," Ginny gasped as she zipped up the back. With a flick of her wand, Hermione's hair was sleek and shiny. Another flick later, they were in springy curls, with half bunched in a curly ponytail.
Ginny carefully placed the veil over her head. "There," she said. "You look perfect." A shadow crossed her face. "It's too bad Draco couldn't come."
"He's got Alex to worry about," Hermione said. "And it's only been a month since Janine..."
Ginny frowned. "Don't think about that," she said firmly. "Not today. Draco's dealing with it very well, and he's been affected by it the most. Right now, you just worry about walking down that aisle without tripping." She couldn't hug Hermione without mussing her dress, so instead she squeezed her arm. "Don't worry," she assured her. "Harry and I will be there for both of you the whole way."
"Thank you so much," Hermione said, tears pricking at her eyes.
"Don't cry!" Ginny exclaimed, alarmed. "I'll have to do your makeup over again." She dabbed frantically but cautiously at Hermione's eyes with a tissue. "There. You're fine now. Come on."
Hermione waited behind the double doors with rising apprehension. Caterpillars writhed in her stomach as Fred and Angelina's daughter, the flowergirl, and George and Alicia's son, the ringbearer, walked down the aisle as solemnly as 5 year-olds could. The caterpillars grew into baby butterflies as the bridesmaids and groomsmen walked down the aisle as well, and then those butterflies grew to the size of dinner plates as Ginny and Harry promenaded down the aisle, arm in arm.
The band struck up the wedding march. Dun DUN dun duuuuun, dun DUN dun duuuuun, dun dun dun DUN dun dun dun dun-dun-dun-dun duuuuun...
The doors opened, and heads turned to watch her. Hermione took a deep breath, attempted to quell the giant butterflies in her stomach and failed, and walked down the aisle as slowly as she dared. Her whole body was shaking, she felt clammy all over, and she was certain that there were now goosebumps on her arms.
She arrived at the altar after what seemed like an eternity. The ceremony passed in a blur, and before Hermione realized it, they were at the "I do"s.
"Do you, Ronald Weasley, take Hermione Granger to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, to honor and to cherish, until death do you part?"
Ron looked straight at Hermione. It took the last of her already frayed nerves to hold his gaze. "I do," he said firmly.
"And do you, Hermione Granger, take Ronald Weasley to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, to honor and to cherish, until death do you part?"
All of Hermione's breath left her. Ron was still looking at her, but she avoided his gaze, instead looking at the priest. She hesitated. "I – I –" Her throat was completely dry. Through her peripheral vision, she could see Ron's smile faltering. Her heart was breaking. She didn't want to do this to him. She closed her eyes and her mouth, took another deep breath, and tried again. "I –" she stopped. She tried one last time. "I – I – I can't." She had failed.
Gasps traveled throughout the small church. Ron's face completely fell. She couldn't bear to look at him. "I'm sorry," she whispered to his shoes, then turned and ran down the aisle.
Several heartbeats later, Ron came to his senses. "Hermione!" he yelled, running out of the chapel after her. But she was long gone. The last thing Ron had to remember her of was the dying echo of the air-splitting crack of her Apparating away, out of his life, to disappear in a heartbreaking escape.
Later, if people found it odd to see a woman in a wedding dress – complete with a veil and a bouquet – boarding a plane to France with nothing but her ticket, they didn't say a word. And if any saw the tears running down her cheeks, saw her shoulders shaking as she cried silently, they did nothing to comfort her. Many looked at her sympathetically, and little girls gazed in awe at her dress, too shy to ask for a flower from her bouquet; but most simply glanced at her, then glanced away again with a shake of their head. Because, no matter how anyone acted, they all knew what she had done, they all knew that she had broken a man's heart, they all knew she was running away to disappear. They all thought the tears were because of her shame at her cowardice.
They all were wrong. She hadn't shown yet, but she would soon. The tears weren't because of her cowardice. They were because that, even though she had managed to banish the butterflies in her stomach, she knew that there was something else growing there. Something that wouldn't go away so easily. And she cried because, as much as she wished it wasn't true, she knew that that something wasn't a Weasley.
Hermione sat next a window right over the wing, watching with eyes blinded by tears as the plane took off and flew away, the ground shrinking. Would she ever come back? Maybe. One day. One day far from now. But she knew in her heart that even if she did come back, and if she did find them again, it would never be the same. She knew in her heart that she would never get a second chance.
PB, "So, whaddya think? Let me know in your review! Do you know who the father is?"
PB (again!), "Yeah, these were all reposted. My other stories got deleted! Cuz of my little A/Ns in script form or w/e. So, yeah, bear with me people, they'll be up again in 1 week! With new chappies!"