MERRY CHRISTMAS, KWANZA, HANUKAH, OR WHATEVER ELSE YOU CELEBRATE!

Chapter 4

Life stopped when I said I do. I thought that was when it was all supposed to begin. I thought after marriage everything would be seen in a beautiful light. I was always told that everything would seem tinted in happiness. I expected to feel whole, like I had found my soul mate, my second half. Isn't that why people marry? Isn't that why they pledge themselves to each other forever? Because eternal happiness was the reward.

Whispers followed me as close as my shadow. Every corner I turned I found a group of laughing people all talking about Ron and I under hushed breaths. About how cute a couple we were, about how they knew that we'd always get married. They seemed proud of themselves, like they knew it all along; it was something to hold over my head.

Or at least that's how I took it. And in a sense it was humbling. Yet why did I feel so trapped, so alone?

I was dressed and made into a doll by Ginny and Mrs. Weasley, both of whom were trying to ground themselves, in spite of their joyful jumps. They wrapped white silk around me, burying me in the soft pure curves of snow. On my neck they hung beautiful strings of small pearls, which reflected the rainbow light of the sun. The same pearls were adorned on my ears. And lastly my hair was left to fall down my back, brushed tenderly by Mrs. Weasley.

I always remember feeling like an actress dressed up to play the part of the damsel in distress who had finally found her true love. I tried, with failed attempts, to convince myself that Ron was my true love. But in the end I guess I ended up playing Juliet well. No one ever suspected that deep down I was still waiting for you.

Because in my warped mind I saw a shimmer of hope, I thought that maybe you would come at last minute and protest it. I thought you would claim me as yours and then we would run away. Then we would be safe. I could replay that sweet tempting dream over and over in my head. But as I strode down the aisle with my short father I could not find your grey eyes.

The twinkling delicate flute played as I tried gracefully to walk down to the altar where Ron stood waiting nervously. It was just as my eight year old self had married her dolls. Everyone was smiling. Everyone was happy. Her dream come true. It was perfect, in a sense. The white roses in my trembling hands soothed me and my father's whispers made me stand taller. Even my mother's tears forced me onward. It was the longest walk in my life.

That was when I finally managed to shut you out of my life forever; that walk made me realize you were never coming back. In fact I made up my mind to destroy any vestiges I had left. I would go home to bury you in the ashes of Ron's fire. All I kept was a red rose, dried and faded, to remind me of what once was. But even that I hid well. I swallowed it all so that Ron and I could be genuinely happy, the way he was when he reached out for my hand at the altar.

"Mione," he whispered lovely taking me from my father's sweaty grip.

We held hands through the entire service and did not let go until Ron reached up to wipe the tears from my eyes and lift my veil.

Then he whispered, "I do." It was so that I would be the only one to hear. By doing so he created a world of intimacy I had not known until that moment.

I said it back softly. The priest gave us a look and then cleared his throat. I took the hint and repeated those words, which sealed my life, louder, so that the world could hear. So that you could hear.

After that I knew it locked. Ron and I had been shackled together for our lives. There was no key. I was scared out of my mind until Ron, in his suave ways, made it all better. Just like he always had.

He kissed me so softly as though I were something he wanted to have forever. It was like eating an ice cream cone slowly, savoring every taste. Ron was always like that, he never let anything slip his mind. I could focus on nothing but his sweet lips and his gorgeous eyes. I saw no grey only a golden hazel.

Silence encircled us, while the audience cheered. It was like nothing I had ever felt before.

I don't know what to feel anymore. I'm like Jekyll and Hyde. One second I'm in love with Ron, the next I find my eyes searching for the red rose locked in a black box beneath the floor boards. I know that it's wrong. I know that I should be happy. I know that I should live for Ron only, like the way Helen lived for Paris back in the times of Troy. They gave everything up for love.

I often envy those great romances, wishing that I could understand them. I always felt safe knowing everything. As long as every fact was memorized and comprehended then I was going to be fine. But love is something that doesn't make sense to me; it's like a mile long calculus problem that won't work itself out.

I feel like I've lost my grip on life. Everything keeps spinning out of control. I can't make myself believe in Ron anymore. When he kisses me I cringe. When he touches me I want to run. Every time I try to stop myself I become angry. I rage on and on about things that don't mean anything. I yell at Ron until I've lost my breath, and what makes me even more irate is that he just takes it. He sits there, listening to me call him a selfish bastard, when it's me. It's always been me.

Ron deserves someone so much better then me. I can't even see what makes him love me. I'm just a bitch. A self-centered bitch who only wants you.

It's not fair. Why isn't? Why can't everyone just get what they want?

I'm tired now. It's over. There is nowhere left for me to run. No cliff left for me to jump. The bottomless pit I fell in so long ago has ended. Ron made sure of that, he was tired of catching me. I don't blame him.

Maybe it would be better if I just died. I could spare everyone the pain. It would be the one selfless act I could commit. Ron would be free of me. He could be given a chance to find someone new, better. Ron could get out of this horrible marriage with dignity and happiness. He could move on. Harry and Ginny wouldn't have to put up with my tears any more. I've been an unfixable problem, and somehow I've stumbled upon a quick solution.

It all seemed such a good plan. I could set up this huge dinner party, invite everyone, and then pretend to be sick. I'd just have to stay home. I'd convince Ron to go anyways, that way no one would come to stop me, instead they'd all be enjoying a lovely Hermioneless meal, and I'd be free to finally end it all. Even you wouldn't be able to stop me.

That night, the longest I have seen, passed by so quickly. If that makes any sense.

"Ron just go," I said frustrated.

"But Mione, this is your dinner party, I can't leave you. I'd feel like a bad husband or something…" he trailed off as he absentmindedly patted my head.

I cringed. "Go."

He gave me that look, the one that let me know nothing was the same, the one that hit me hard every time. It was the way he stared in to my eyes, trying to figure out what was wrong. It was no use. I'd shut him out already. He couldn't save me either.

"Go," I whispered harshly. "Leave me alone, you're just giving me a migraine."

He turned, defeated, and made his way out the door.

After he left I fell into the pillows and sobbed quietly until I heard the door click. Then I lifted my head and let the tears fall loudly into silence. It always had been silent. There was never any laughter.

I don't remember how long I cried, because I never paid any mind to the chiming of the clock. I do recall the moonlight. I finally left my tearstained bed when the little yellow pool of light shone enchantingly on the dark floor. It was then that I tiptoed across the wooden beams to the corner of our bedroom. Quietly I moved the chest, hoping there was no one to listen to its creaks across the old oak. It was only then, when I remembered no one could hear me, that I was truly alone. No one that mattered would find me for hours. With that sense I felt immense glee; I was finally free to lift the old faded rose from the elegantly carved black box.

It lay there as it always had, reminding me of you. I held it gently letting my tears cascade onto the long dried petals. In some small part of my mind, I thought the salty water could bring the flower back to life. But the leaves only cracked in my fingers, falling away in a green shimmer.

I hesitated for a moment's time, reminiscing. Images flooded into my mind. We were kissing beneath the lamp post. "NO. NO. NO."

I screamed into the night's sky. "NO. NO. NO. STOP IT. GO AWAY. I DON'T WANT YOU. I NEVER DID. WHY? WHY?"

I reached out for the small shinny dagger hiding in the velvet beneath the rose, a masked beauty. I dug into my arms over and over again. "NO." I cut off all of my hair. "I HATE YOU." I sliced at my legs. "LEAVE ME ALONE." I pushed the sharp edge into any white flesh I could find, marveling at the snowflake patterns. It reminded me of the snowflakes that fell in my hair when I saw you kissing her. "WHY?"

"Why?" I asked again into the air, softer. Wanting, needing to know. "Why don't you love me?"

Then I heard it softly, a deep incredible voice screaming softly at the door. "Stop it Hermione. You of all people..."

I look up and see him, a halo of white blonde shinning hair. And then it all fell away into red stained white snow.

What happened next I'll never remember.