In which Hermione feels as though she's in over her head, and it begins to show.
Age twenty-two, the second-largest room at Belle's Bed and Breakfast, Godric's Hollow.
The white dress hanging on the wardrobe door seemed to glow in the moonlight.
Hermione felt like there was a lead weight in the pit of her stomach as she stared at it. She didn't admit to being afraid very often. She hadn't voiced her concerns aloud to anyone, not even Harry. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, gripping the bed sheets, and she consciously relaxed them, only to have them clench again a moment later as another slow, rolling wave of dread passed through her stomach.
She was getting married tomorrow.
Molly and Arthur had officially moved out of the Burrow. The last of their things had been packed off to their new little cottage just outside of Ottery St. Catchpole—they would never move far away from their old home—last week, and Molly had spent days cleaning the place up to make it ready for Ron and Hermione to move in once they got back from their honeymoon. Everything Hermione owned was in boxes, ready to be moved from their flat, except for the things she was taking on holiday, which were in her trunk.
The past few months had been some of the busiest of her life. Finishing her degree, getting settled to start her first job as a Healer in the fall, planning the double wedding, preparing to move into the Burrow...it was almost too much at once.
Ginny had originally resisted the double wedding idea. She'd wanted to have a big splashy wedding of her own with all the focus on her, which was fair enough Hermione supposed, it was the most special day of her life and all, but Harry had eventually talked her into it. It had been Molly's idea in the first place, seconded by Ron, and they'd worked on convincing everyone else until it was all agreed. It was being held at the park near Harry and Ginny's new house. All four soon-to-be-newlyweds were staying here at Belle's Bed and Breakfast for the night in separate rooms, along with the rest of the wedding party and a small selection of the vast guest list—those who would be attending the double wedding itself. The rest would be Apparating in tomorrow afternoon for the reception.
Hermione tried to concentrate on breathing. She couldn't tear her eyes away from her wedding dress. A slight breeze sighed in through the half-open window, rustling the skirts. She swallowed.
Somewhere towards the centre of town, the clock tower chimed one in the morning, shattering the stillness in the room. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath, then let it out slowly; this was ridiculous. Tomorrow was supposed to be a happy day. She was getting married. Her best friends were getting married too, for Merlin's sake; she tried to focus on feeling happy, thinking through all the reasons she was in love with Ron, all the sweet things he did for her, or tried to anyway; she thought about the fun she and Ginny had had picking the flowers, lilies and orchids, and concentrated on how beautiful the park would be tomorrow when she and Ginny walked down the path together, escorted by their fathers on either side...
But all Hermione could see right now was her wedding dress. And all she could feel was suffocation.
In a breath she found herself standing and walking towards the door. It didn't squeak when she opened it. The narrow corridor was carpeted, soft beneath her bare feet; she tiptoed silently down the hall, past Ginny's room, glancing out the window at the end and pausing to look out at the moonlit lawn before continuing up the stairs to the third floor where the boys were sleeping. One door, two doors, three doors down; she paused, hand raised to knock, and froze with her arm in the air.
She wasn't dressed properly, just in a barely-there silk white night-robe, not even pajamas underneath. It was summer, and hot. It wasn't as though he hadn't seen her in less. There was something, though, something...there were rules about seeing people the night before weddings, bad luck, and her stomach clenched in a spasm of guilt, but she set her jaw, tried to force herself to knock, because she needed him, she needed to talk to him, but...something stopped her from knocking. Slowly her fingers relaxed out of the fist, and she trailed them silently down the door, feeling the grains of the wood. Why couldn't she knock?
A slow, silent and shuddering sob shook her slight frame, once. She turned around and sank to the floor in one fluid motion with her back against his door and wiped at the few tears that slid down her cheeks. What was wrong with her? Tomorrow was going to be the happiest day of her life; she should be sleeping now so that it would come sooner. Her new life was about to start. So why did it feel like she was almost out of time?
She wasn't sure how long she sat there crying silently, unmoving, leaning against his closed door, hoping it would somehow open. Minutes, maybe, or half an hour. Nothing happened. No one in the building stirred. Hermione felt drowned by her helplessness, her failure to act, the failure of her courage. She couldn't understand what was tormenting her so much on the night before her wedding.
Eventually she sighed, and began to slowly push herself up to her feet. She was unsteady for a moment and caught herself on his door frame. Her head felt too heavy to lift, but she lifted it. She made her way back downstairs and tiptoed into the bathroom she and Ginny shared, across the hall from her own room, and splashed some cool water on her face. She left the sink running for a minute and stared into the mirror, bewildered as to why her eyes wouldn't dry.
When she finally got back into her bedroom, shut the door, and slipped between the sheets, the last thing she saw was her wedding dress, glowing in the moonlight, and the last thought she had was to wonder why, on the night before her wedding, it had been so important to her that she go to Harry's room.