Tragedy of the Night

By Fidelius Charm

Summary: She should have said something, she should have grabbed him and told him everything then snogged him senseless. She should have loved him when she had to chance too.

Note: I'm working on a series of Hermione One-Shots. It's easy to write a chaptered story, but the true challenge for a writer is to convey a point in a few short pages. This is expanding on what I've been working on in my Creative Writing class.

"Loved you yesterday. Love you still. Always have. Always will."

--Anonymous

How did it come down to this? How in the world did the path of life lead her here? Why wasn't she happy in the arms of the man she cared about most? What hurts the most is that she had never said anything. She had never opened her mouth once to say what she felt, she never hinted, she never snuck in a glance, she never did a single thing. She kept it inside thinking that it was impossible, thinking that her feeling would never be returned. How could she have been so stupid? How could she have let the only person who had made her feel beautiful and important for once, slip right by her?

It was a chilly December evening, and the snow was falling gracefully to the ground covering the earth with a white blanket. Hermione found herself walking through the weather towards a small church on the top of an average hill. She walked the path clinging her coat close to her as she made it up the last couple of steps and to the entranceway of the church. Once she was on flat ground again she push the door and walked inside, a surge of warm air made contact with her frozen skin and was a welcomed delight.

She removed her coat and placed it over her arm and made her way into the main part of the church. It was beautifully decorated, with white roses everywhere. With more observation she realized she was extremely wet from the snow, teary eyed, and to top it all off extremely late. The entire room turned around to stare at the newest member of the congregation, hushed whispered hovered across the room as Hermione stood their motionless not noticing the concerned glance she was receiving from a certain Best Man.

"Sorry…" Hermione said quietly and then sat down in the last row, placing down her coat down next to her.

Within a few moments after the whispered had died down, the ceremony continued. It was quite beautiful Hermione noted, as she looked pensively at the bride and groom in front. How she wished she was the one getting married tonight, she wished with all her heart, but the wish was an impossible one…at least now it was.

"What's the matter with you 'Mione?" Ginny asked curiously, waving her hand in front of her friend's face.

"Oh nothing." Hermione replied sipping her tea.

"That's a whole lot of nothing." Ginny replied, "Come on tell me!"

"It's about…" Hermione began but was cut off by Ginny.

"FRED!" Ginny exclaimed, "You've been thinking about my brother haven't you!"

"How did you know?"

"It was a guess." Ginny grinned, "I thought because he can't stop talking about you that maybe you're on the same wavelength has him."

"Yeah right." Hermione replied, "I wish!"

If only she had taken advantage of the signs, taken more care in noticing the subtle clues. Then maybe she would be happy; maybe she'd be clad in a beautiful white gown marrying Fredrick Weasely, the man of her dreams. She stopped paying attention to the vows almost five minutes ago and instead concentrated at the intricate pattern in the floral carpeting, tracing the loops with her eyes. She was quickly snapped back to reality when she heard the words:

"I do."

Pass through the lips of the only man she had ever loved.

Her world was crushed. She got up in a hurry, and stormed out of the church without much notice, hot tears streaming down her cheeks. She pushed open the door, bitter cold air now greeting her warmed skin. The feeling was unpleasant and sent a shiver up her spine, causing her to realize she had forgotten her coat in the pew. She turned around to get it but decided against it, not wanting to see the married couple any longer.

She stormed down the steps heading towards the Portkey she had used to get to the old church. Her mind was in a muddled blur and she couldn't think straight. All she wanted to do was go home, pop open a bottle of Fire Whiskey she had received from Severus Snape after he had gone sober. She could almost feel the numbing sensation the drink could bring her course through her body, but as soon as it came it was gone and Hermione was left with the cold.

"'Mione!" Was the sound she heard the wind carry to her.

She glanced over her shoulder and noticed that someone was running after her, she didn't want to be bothered with anyone so she picked up her pace hoping to reach the small pencil lying next to the single large oak in the middle of the huge field before her pursuer could catch up with her.

"Please wait!" She heard again. She decided to stop; obviously whoever was following her wasn't going to give up easily.

"What do you want from me?" She said blatantly.

"I want to love you 'Mione." She heard the person whisper.

She moved closer to the figure standing before her and took a good look at his face.

"Fred?" She asked in shock.

"Sorry to disappoint," He said his voice full of sorrow, "its just George..."

Hermione felt her eyes fill with tears, and her body began to shake.

"…But I can be anyone you want me to be…" He finished giving her a look of desperation.

And in her moment of weakness she threw her arms around him and held him close to her, breathing in the scent she wanted so desperately to belong to the man she really did love. She wanted him so badly to be the intellectual, sarcastic, genius that was Fredrick Weasely. But the real tragedy of the night was that George desperately wished he was his brother.

End

Different from my normal writing style, but sometimes things doing end perfectly.

--FC