It doesn't matter you've got all that you need
It doesn't matter you've got everything you see
It doesn't matter you've got anything you please—
But you don't have me

Why? Do you close your eyes so tight
When you're kissing him goodnight?
You make-believe a face
Just to try to fill the space

Wake up, tell me it's alright
Wake up, I just want to hold you tight
Wake up, tell me it's alright
Don't you ever wonder what you're looking for?
- Wake Up, Hanson
The Princess Diaries

Hermione's final dinner as a single woman is a quiet but busy affair. The large mahogany table in Queen Beatrice's formal dining room groans with the number of people that have been crammed around it. Although nobody has lit a fire in the hearth, the room is still warm and oppressive, making it even harder for Hermione to fight off the exhaustion from her bridal shower last night. Combined with the rich smells of roast duck, chicken liver pate, and a brilliant chocolate and orange mousse, the princess might as well give up. If she could rest her head on the cream linen tablecloth, she would fall asleep straight away.

There once was a time when food did nothing to excite her. It was a source of energy, and she'd eat enough to keep her going so she could concentrate on her studies. While she was at school, there were times when she'd forget to eat all together. Until Ron came along. Over time, he shared his passion for food with her and now she loves it. So it's a massive disappointment that she's too nervous and tired to manage more than a couple of mouthfuls before feeling sick.

Tonight is the last of the royal traditions before the big day; a culmination of the past fortnight of activities. The engaged couple must share one last meal with their nearest and dearest. It's an opportunity to get some last-minute advice before they embark on their next steps together.

Together. A scoff bubbles at Hermione's lips but she forces it down with the last of Fleur's imported French wine. How is Hermione supposed to be together with someone she hardly knows? They're not two sides of the same galleon, they're not even in the same currency. He's prim and proper and formal, whereas Hermione is trying her best to live her royal life as casually as she can without annoying her grandmother too much.

Across the table from her, Lord Nicholas continues to throw her strange looks. It's as if he is yearning to say something to her, but has to wait until they're alone to do so. Is he having second thoughts? Does he need Hermione to leave so they can talk? She'd be willing to go, especially if it comes with a termination of their contract. Perhaps then she could rest in peace tonight.

He's brought some of his groomsmen with him; two of his old school friends from Beauxbatons. Introductions had been made earlier in the evening, but with her growing exhaustion and their inability to grunt more than a couple of words in English, the princess had given up trying to make pleasant conversation with them.

Doesn't Lord Nicholas have any parents? Hermione is sure he mentioned he was staying with them at Delnashaugh house this past month. So why aren't they here now? What if they're complete monsters like the Malfoys and Nicholas is trying to shield her from them? Although it's a common belief that in-laws are meant to be difficult to get on with, it would make Hermione's life a lot easier if she could eventually grow to call them her parents too, like she could with Molly and Arthur. Shut up, shut up, shut up.

Hermione's heart twists in pain as she recalls the Weasley family, and now the idea of being with them has embedded in her brain, there's no stopping her overactive imagination. Of course, Ginny is here, somewhere at the bottom of the table with Harry. They'll be staying in the castle tonight so that Ginny can help Hermione get ready tomorrow.

But it's not the same.

The atmosphere would be completely different if the room was full of Weasleys. When Hermione used to imagine this meal, back when she and Ron were together, it was full of redheaded people, with Harry sitting on one side of Ron and Bill or Charlie on the other. Or maybe Arthur. Ron is close to his dad, after all. There would be laughter, fun and games, and some pretty absurd advice coming their way. Despite the army of cooks in the castle, Molly would have been adamant to contribute to the meal somehow, maybe with a trifle or some other stodgy dessert. Her food was always perfect, filling Hermione's heart as well as her stomach. The walls of the room would expand with love, instead of this frigid awkward occasion the princess is suffering through right now.

Ron would have played footsie with her under the table and would have made sure there was a permanent smile fixed on her face. But the distance between Hermione and Nicholas seems to grow even wider with each course set in front of them.

Her stomach flips, tying itself into an even tighter knot. The pain hasn't disappeared since the proposal but has continued to grow in intensity. It's adding to the lightheadedness due to the amount of wine she's had, and her failed attempt of eating any of the delightful dinner that had been put in front of her. And even as she takes up her favourite spot on the battered red leather chesterfield in the window, Hermione cannot relax. Anxiety over what she's about to do fills her body, putting her on edge. Her breath comes in short gasps and her hands shake. Not even a room full of some of her favourite people can help calm her down.

"Princess, it's time I retire for the night," Lord Nicholas says, cutting into her panic attack. "It's gone ten, and I need my beauty sleep."

His Spanish accent is stronger after a drink. It's the first time she's noticed it. There's a wealth of things Hermione still needs to learn about him as they progress through the next few days and into their future together. And I still haven't kissed him.

Nicholas holds out his hand and her heart lurches like she's riding on the back of a Hippogriff. If any of her discomfort is etched over her face, he doesn't notice it as he says, "Will you escort me to the gate?"

It would be easy for her to say no, to feign needing to get her own rest and escape to her rooms instead. There's nothing Hermione wants to do less than spend more time with only Nicholas. They have a whole lifetime of that in front of them. Sure, he's okay as a friend, but she's more and more sure that there'll never be anything more than a platonic understanding between them. It's not helped by his lack of romantic gestures or inability to do anything more intimate than holding hands. He's supposed to be a grown man, but this is like dating a twelve-year-old. How are they supposed to produce an heir when the thought of getting into bed with him makes her shudder in disgust?

The princess thrives on intimacy. Her entire relationship with Ron was full of interlocked fingers, stolen kisses, and his arm thrown around her shoulder whenever he got the opportunity. Although she's not a fan of public displays of affection, especially while on official duty, there was always enough contact in private to keep her going.

But the sooner she gets Nicholas out of the castle, the sooner Hermione can see Ron again. Every inch of her body craves his touch. Ron will know how to calm her down, how to settle her fraught mind. Although Hermione could do with a quiet night so she can process all of her thoughts before her wedding day, Ron's enticing invitation was too much to resist.

Her ex had admitted he still loved her earlier, but what does that mean now that he's moving back to America? Also, there's still the small issue of her getting married to another man tomorrow. Is it unfair to ask Ron to stay when she'll be tied off to someone else?

Lord Nicholas' palm is sweaty as it slides against hers, making the churn in her stomach as deep as a stormy sea. The meagre dinner she managed to force down threatens to make a comeback as she trails after him, taking a tour around the room to say good night to everyone and thank them for coming. If this had been a Weasley party, it probably wouldn't have stopped. They'd be cracking the Firewhisky out right now, and Hermione is sure she'd turn up to her wedding with a hangover.

"I can't believe you're getting married tomorrow," Harry chirps as the couple finally gets to him and Ginny. "Although I always thought—Ow!"

As he rubs his arm, Ginny intervenes, "We always thought you'd have an outside wedding, Hermione, perhaps under a tent. You know, in an orchard or something. But I'm sure Ballindalloch chapel will be lovely enough. Have a nice night, see you bright and early tomorrow morning." The redhead leans forward to kiss Hermione on the cheek and whispers, "There's still time. This doesn't have to be your life."

Hermione's whole face flushes at Ginny's insinuation. What if Nicholas overheard them? Ginny isn't exactly discreet. As Nicholas pulls Hermione from the room, Ginny's glare burns into the back of the princess's head.

All the signs are there that this whole arrangement is wrong. But with her mind in chaos, there's nothing she can do to process it all and find a way out. Instead, she follows Nicholas out of the castle like an inferi on a charm, not even noticing when the chilled evening air hits her bare arms, sending goosebumps spreading over her skin. Perhaps Nicholas has bewitched her into compliance? Maybe when they signed the agreement for the wedding (and all the pre-nuptial considerations), it put a spell over her. It's the only explanation for how blind she feels wandering into this, and it wouldn't be the first time it's happened in royal history.

All of a sudden, Nicholas stops walking. As Hermione glances up, the wrought-metal gates loom over them. How did I even get here? Nicholas pulls Hermione towards him and she returns her gaze to his. The deep chocolate brown eyes that first stirred some sort of feeling inside her at her welcome home party are now dull and sad, heightening the trepidation building. Panic floods her body. What if he's expecting some sort of reassuring declaration or even a little excitement about their wedding tomorrow? Is he planning on taking the opportunity of them being alone to finally kiss her?

Where once Hermione dragged him to the depths of the castle to try and get even a tiny taste of his lips, she might throw up if he attempts it now.

Shifting from one foot to the other, Hermione tries to arrange the battling thoughts in her head. She has to say something. Otherwise, Nicholas might think he's marrying a mute. Usually, she prides herself on her intelligence and her ability to hold a conversation no matter who she's speaking to, and she's had to talk to some vile people over the past few years. But tonight, all her words are failing her.

Nicholas breaks the silence first. He drops her hand and folds it behind his back with the other, taking up his usual formal stance. But with his eyebrows furled and his lips set in a thin line, it's clear Nicholas isn't after anything romantic tonight. Instead, it looks like a storm is brewing, and it immediately puts Hermione on edge.

"I saw you and Ron on the lawn earlier."

Oh.

The frown that unfolds across her face must give away her confusion because he continues, his voice tinged with impatience, "There are a lot of windows around this castle. I wasn't trying to spy on you, not that the two of you were difficult to miss. Dedalus was sorting me out with a new coat and I happened to glance out and"—a soft sigh escapes his lips—"It didn't surprise me, seeing the two of you like that. Of course, I've done my research. You were childhood sweethearts, torn apart by the monarchy. If you were a Muggle, they'd be making movies about your heartbreak, just like they did with Princess Diana. It's a lot to compete with."

If he had addressed the issue any other way, Hermione might have experienced a tug of guilt or remorse for what she'd been up to with Ron. After all, it's not the first time the ex-lovers have been caught out and she's already been warned by her grandmother about her lack of discretion. But instead, his sharp words send adrenaline rushing through her veins like a fire-breathing dragon, waking Hermione from her stupor. Her heart thumps in her chest. How dare he call her out on this and insinuate something more is happening. She doesn't have to defend her actions to Nicholas of all people.

"Ron is a close friend," she snaps back, "and he's been helping me out. He was showing me how to shoot and that's it. Not that I have to justify who I speak to when you're not around."

Nicholas flinches and remorse floods through his face, quelling whatever annoyance he'd first managed to muster. It impresses Hermione a little; the guy can actually feel something, he's not just a high society robot like she suspected. Fumbling with his suit jacket, he mutters some words to himself as if trying to gather his thoughts. His first attempt at putting his foot down with Hermione has failed, and now, he's scrambling to keep it together.

Puffing out a hard breath, he swipes one hand across his forehead before tucking it back behind him. After a few deathly silent minutes, he apologises, "Y-you're right. That was uncalled for. But I don't think you understand how much of an eligible bachelor I am. Across Europe and beyond, I could have any witch I wanted. Muggles too. I have plenty of friends…lots of lovely women friends and I'm giving up a lot to help you, Hermione."

Go on then, go get them. But Hermione bites back the retort though she can't stop her eyebrows from flying into her fringe at the insinuation. Perhaps the man she met at the party was a ladies' man, but not this touch-starved, weedy little man who's too proper to even kiss the woman he's engaged to.

"I still think this marriage is a good idea," he continues. "Plus, our agreement is legally and magically binding so we can't exactly escape this, but it doesn't fill me with confidence watching you cavort with someone else around the grounds."

Merlin, he sounds like Queen Beatrice. But she doesn't have a defence. Short of someone dying tomorrow, Hermione has to marry Lord Nicholas, even though she doesn't want to.

"Nicholas, I—"

"Hermione. Can I—I mean, maybe we can?"

He might think his bumbling hides his intentions but his actions give him away. Nicholas takes a hesitant step towards her, wetting his lips in anticipation. Dread ices her heart, but Hermione gives him a small nod. Maybe it's better to get it over and done with now so that their first kiss isn't at the altar. Perhaps if she gets used to it, she can kid her loyal subjects that she's actually in love with this man. Even though someone else stole your heart a long time ago.

"Sure, I mean, I guess—"

Nicholas slides his cold but sweat-slicked hands over her cheeks to cradle her face, yanking her towards him and almost pulling her head off in the process. The force of the action knocks the wind out of her body as she collides with his chest, but before she can try and catch her breath, his mouth is on hers.

There's a moment where time freezes and everything stops for Hermione. Her body locks into position, her arms go limp at her sides and her lips clamp shut as his tongue tries to invade her mouth. Although her experience is limited to Krum, Cormac and Ron, this is not like kissing any human being Hermione has ever met. It's like snogging a Grindylow, its spindly fingers digging into her face to hold her into place.

How is it that only two weeks ago, Hermione had been desperate for this moment and all it could reveal to her? She couldn't have been more wrong. There are no stirrings of feelings for Nicholas hiding deep inside her. Her foot doesn't leave the ground and fireworks do not explode around them. As far as first kisses go, this is the worst, but from the noises he's making, Lord Nicholas is enjoying it at least.

After what feels like ten years, but couldn't be more than a few seconds, he draws away. Although he had her permission, sort of, the slimy kiss makes her ever-growing nausea ten times worth. Drool collects on her chin, and she's positive it's not hers. How is she going to spend her life kissing a fish?!

As Nicholas stares at her expectantly, Hermione takes a huge breath and wipes her mouth.

"So?" he asks, impatient to wait for her answer. "Anything?"

Hermione grimaces. "I really want to say yes, but…There's no spark, Nicholas."

His shoulders drop, and another strange look appears on his face. Is it confusion, or uncertainty? Perhaps he didn't enjoy it as much as the noises he was making hinted at? Maybe snogging Hermione was the last thing Lord Nicholas wanted to do too?

Kicking at a bare spot in the gravel he says, "Me neither. Though it was a very good kiss, there were just no fireworks."

"What are we going to do?"

With a sigh, Nicholas pulls Hermione into a hug. "You chose me and I accepted and a gentleman never backs out of his word. We are going to stand up in church tomorrow and say, 'I do,' and we'll be man and wife. And you are going to make an amazing Queen of Magical Britain."

"But do you want to be a King?"

It's as if nobody has ever asked him what he wants. All this time, Hermione has assumed he was entering this agreement so that he could get his hands on the crown, but maybe he's being forced into it too? Perhaps there are more malignant influences on both sides of this contract, pushing the two young adults towards each other, despite them digging in their heels.

Hermione is about to delve deeper and throw some follow up questions his way, but Nicholas lifts his arms in a non-committal shrug.

Oh shit.

Despite the lack of attraction, Hermione can't stop the stirring of sympathy at his stoic declaration and subsequent lacklustre response to her question. Maybe she has to see this through so that they can look after each other? Maybe they have more in common than she first thought? Perhaps they might even be able to come to some sort of agreement where they can see other people in privacy? There has to be a way to make this plan mutually beneficial outside of the crown and everything else. At least his words are comforting and the beginnings of a friendship are stirring.

"I-I have to go," Nicholas breaks through his silence and pulls away from the embrace, shoving his hands into his trouser pockets after checking the time. "Will you be okay?"

I will when I get to see Ron. But how can that thought even dare to invade her brain after kissing her husband-to-be? When did Hermione's life get so complicated? Finding out she was a secret princess should have been the hardest issue to deal with, but since then, things have only been getting a lot worse.

But instead, she shrugs. "Nothing a good night's sleep can't solve."

"Alright, see you tomorrow."

With one last kiss on the cheek, Nicholas disappears through the castle gates, leaving Hermione gawking at the spot where he was just standing. If she thought she had too many worries before this conversation, well, it's like her head might explode right now.

By the sounds of it, Nicholas has been led into this arrangement just as blindly as she has. The new information hits her like a brilliant Stupefy, freezing her to the spot as she tries to process it, but it's no good. She needs to say it out loud, sound it out to someone she trusts and have them guide her to a solution.

But who knows what time Ron plans to make an appearance tonight. It could be ridiculously late, once everyone else is tucked up safely in their beds. There's no way she can wait around for him. As soon as she gets in, she'll send him a message and plead for him to come quickly. One of the castle's screech owls should reach him in a handful of minutes, and it'll be more discreet than sending a Patronus.

With her plan bouncing around her head, she turns on her heel and storms back up to the castle. If things go right, she might make the life of more than one person better tonight.