Disclaimer: Even though I'd love to own the rights to these wonderful characters, that just isn't so, and I don't claim that it is.
He had never seen anything so beautiful, not that anyone would ever know that, especially not her. Never her. He had softened himself—almost too much so—simply by giving her his scroll of 'proposal', he had reached a low point in his life, his mind told him, by breaking and bending to a law he did not believe in. But that had been his life, hadn't it? Hadn't he spent time, from twenty on, doing that which he did not believe? This should be no harder than working as a spy. This should be easier than that. Much easier. But as he watched her march down the aisle, on her father's arm, he couldn't help but feel the sudden, desperate pain of fear. Fear gripped him, slipping through him, seeping into his pores and filling the pit of his stomach with fluttering he had not felt for ages, not since, well, not since Lilly. Perhaps that's why boyish fear grabbed him—fear of the unknown, fear of abandonment. He wasn't being abandoned, no—that had happened long ago. No, now he was experiencing the fear of abandoning her. For the first time, his only "love" wouldn't be the redhead he had grown up with.
As Hermione drew nearer, his thoughts returned to the present, away from the past and away from the woman that he never had and never would have. Now his eyes were on the hand that would soon be held in his, would soon bear the ring that he taken from his Gringotts vault only the day before. The ring—currently safely tucked away in the pocket of his robe—had been his mother's, the one thing that his father had given her out of love, the first and last present that she willingly received. It was the one sign that Severus Snape had that his parents had once been in love. The hand that would wear that ring, Hermione's left, was now laying gently on her father's arm, as Mr. Granger walked down the aisle beside her. Severus couldn't help but give an odd, inward, snort at the thought of the term 'father' and Mr. Granger. The man hadn't even wanted to attend the wedding, much less walk his daughter down the aisle. He didn't approve of the law—the one thing that Severus and he agreed upon. Hermione's father had only come because he didn't want his wife to travel to the world of witches and wizards, to the place where their daughter had ate nearly every meal for the last seven years, alone. No harm—no normal harm had come to their daughter while she spent her years in those halls. Mrs. Granger didn't approve of the law either, but her baby was getting married and there was no way she would miss this sight.
On that note, Severus turned his head in the direction of her future mother-in-law. She was older than him, but not by much. Mrs. Granger was younger than her husband, by at least five years. It made the current situation all the more ironic, the simple fact that the Granger's were against what was similar to their own situation. Of course, there was more than five years between Severus and Hermione, he couldn't help but think that their own age difference would make them a bit more understanding. No such luck in the world of the unfair, Severus smirked to himself. For a second, he began to think of the future, to think of the possibility of what could happen. When—no, if, he corrected himself—he and Hermione had children, he hoped that he would be more understanding to their choices in life. What his students would think if they could hear his thoughts now. What Hermione would say!
He honestly didn't know what his soon-to-be wife would say; he didn't know her views on children, her views on the new minister of magic. Hell, he thought, he didn't even know her favorite color. They had more than their fair share of talking to do. But that would come later…later, after they had finished what they had to do that day. It seemed that wouldn't be much to the later he was thinking of, though. Hermione was at the front of the Great Hall now, standing in front of him. Her hazel eyes were looking up at him, trying to catch the gaze of his black ones. He turned, then, when he felt her stare. It still amazed him that such a simple thing as a stare could draw his attention away from whatever had previously kept his attention. He turned to the short, frizzy—for she was now simply frizzy haired, not bushy as she had been in her younger years—haired woman, and couldn't help but let out a small smile. The smallest smile anyone had ever seen, but a smile none-the-less. Perhaps the marriage of Hermione Granger and Severus Snape wouldn't be too bad after all.
a/n: I hope you've all enjoyed the so far. More will come, I promise, but I'm taking my time, thinking it out and making it the best I can. Thanks for sticking with me this long!