word count: 760


Druella looks beautiful in her wedding dress. Of course she does. Druella Rosier has always been known for her beauty. It's one reason she became such a coveted prize to be won. So many families sent her father requests, begging for the lovely witch to become engaged to their sons. In the end, Cygnus Black, that brute of a boy, won. Druella doesn't know what the Black family promised her father, but she curses the patriarchs of both families for cursing her with this fate.

"Druella?"

She turns, her heart fluttering with hopeful excitement when she hears Abraxas' voice. It isn't just her imagination. He stands before her, tall and lean, with his pale blond hair secured neatly. "Abraxas," she whispers.

He is the one she loves, the man she had hoped her father would choose. In their brief time together, he learned her more intimately than anyone else ever could. She doubts even a lifetime with Cygnus could produce a fraction of the same intimacy.

At night, in her wildest dreams, she would imagine Abraxas Malfoy storming into the hall in the middle of the ceremony. He would declare his love for her, curse the pureblood traditions that keep them apart, and then He and Druella would steal away into the night, never to be seen or heard from again. Is it possible that it's more than a dream? Has Abraxas been thinking of her the way she has been thinking of him? Tears sting her eyes.

This is it. He can take her away from life. They can run away together and be happy.

"I hoped you would come for me," she tells him.

Abraxas draws back slightly, frowning. "Come for you?" he asks, shaking his head. "My sweet Druella, you have it all wrong."

Those are not the words she wants to hear. Druella keeps her head held high, maintaining her dignity. "I beg your pardon?"

"I simply wanted to see you before your wedding," Abraxas explains. "I knew you would make the most beautiful bride. It's a pity you couldn't be mine."

A heated blush stains her cheeks. Druella takes a deep breath. She has to keep calm. If she gets upset, someone will hear, and she can't have her wedding day beginning on a scandalous note. "But I am yours," she insists. "Oh, Abraxas, just say the word, and it can happen. I will never love Cygnus the way I love you."

"Love?" Abraxas echoes with a sneer. "You idiot girl. You think I love you?"

Druella holds her hand over her heart. Of course he loves her. The way he touched her, the sweet words he whispered in her ear, the stolen moments they shared together… How could that be anything but love?

"You do," she whispers.

"You were merely a distraction, something fun to keep away the boredom," he says, laughing.

His words cut deep, hurting her in a way nothing else ever has. It's a betrayal of the worst kind. He shouldn't have come here.

And yet… and yet there's a part of her that still longs for his touch, a part of her that wants to figure out how to make this impossible romance happen.

"I hope Cygnus will make you happy," Abraxas adds before turning on his heel.

"Don't leave me like this!"

But he's already gone, and she is crying, and she hates everything. With a pained groan, she turns and slams her fists against the mirror, hitting the glass again and again until it breaks. Glass shards fall to the floor. Druella wonders what it would be like to take one and open her own wrist. Would Abraxas mourn her? Would he care?

She swallows and shakes her head. There is no reason to think of such things. Abraxas doesn't love her; he never did. Her death would mean nothing in the end.

She has to be strong now. She is a Rosier, and Rosiers cannot afford to let a little heartache stop them. Maybe she cannot have the man she loves. Maybe it's for the best. Cygnus is, perhaps, a brute, but something beautiful can come from this union. It is hers, and she will cling to it.

With a trembling hand, she draws her wand, cleaning up the broken glass and tending to the wounds on her hands. This is her fate. Though her heart still yearns for another, and she knows she will always look at Cygnus and wish for Abraxas, there is no hope left. She has to do what is expected of her.