The day of her wedding you realize that you aren't a completely selfish man.

"You look beautiful."

You're staring at her from the doorway, the same way you used to all those years ago, and she smiles that same devilish smile.

"Can you help me with this dress?"

It's something you've heard before, but the circumstances had been so different. You quietly make your way across the room, taking in her scent, your eyes travelling down her bare back. You know every inch of it. The heart shaped scar. The beauty mark so small that only you know it exists.

You can feel her shiver as you breath on her neck. You pray she doesn't see the look on your face, but you know she does. You know it the moment your eyes make contact in the mirror. You know it the moment she stiffens.

You lightly brush your fingers up her spine as you zip up her dress.

"Draco," she whispers, almost as if she's breathing your name. You want to rip off her dress and fuck her until she comes to her senses, until she calls off this wedding. But instead, you step back with a weak "all done."

"You look beautiful." You know you've already said it, but you need her to hear it. When she turns around, you can't breath. It's just like the moment you first saw her.

"I'm really happy you're here."

But you know it's a lie. You can see it in her eyes. You tell yourself it's because she might run off with you, but you know it's because she's trying to move on and you're just an obstacle.

You want to leave. You want to turn your back on her, but instead, you kiss her.

You kiss a bride on her wedding day.

You half expect the ceiling to split open and the wrath of whatever God she believes in to unleash itself upon you. You hate yourself in that moment, more than you ever have.

"Is this what you came here for?", she demands, slapping you across the face. You clench your jaw tightly in response.

"I love you."

It's the first time you've said the words, yet they feel so natural, as if you've said them a thousand times.

She looks at you with her eyebrows knitted together and you immediately regret saying it. You don't regret feeling it though.

Her slender fingers cover her mouth in a futile attempt to maintain her composure, but to no avail. Tears begin rolling down her cheeks.

Now you've made a bride cry on her wedding day.

You've never seen her cry before, and you hate being the reason.

"I'm sorry," you whisper. Your voice shaky from the emotion. "I'm so fucking sorry."

"You should be!," she yells. "You should be. I waited so many years to hear you say those words, and you wait until today? I hate you!"

Her voice reverberates off the blue walls, echoing in your mind as well. Your hands clench into fists at your side, and you feel so many sentiments at that moment.

Hate, passion, love, confusion, but mostly pain.

It's your fault that she's here, standing before you in her white dress; marrying another man. Maybe if you'd said the words sooner, you'd be the one standing beside her at the alter. You were a coward though, you still are one.

A prideful, greedy coward.

And it's because of this realization that you'll never forgive yourself. You promise yourself that the moment you get home, you'll destroy your liver as punishment.

"Run away with me."

She laughs bitterly. Hatefully. You try to buy her with your wealth as a last resort. Your obsolete wealth.

"I'd never let your feet touch the ground. I'd cover every inch of the manor with rose petals. I'd...I'd buy you more diamonds than you'd be able to wear." You sound crazed, and impracticable, and desperate all at once, but you don't care.

"Draco please."

The tears flow freely now, and she makes no attempt to stop them. Suddenly in a surge of fury, she bangs her fists against your chest.

"I hate you so much. So fucking much."

You notice how she's picked up the nasty habit of swearing; from you no doubt. Just another reason for you to hate yourself.

You smile at her, and it's a broken smile.

"Marry me instead."

The pain in your voice is evident and you don't make an attempt to hide it. You don't make an attempt to pretend this time.

She continues assaulting your chest with her tiny fists, and you continue to stare at her with your sad, gray eyes.

Finally, she tires down and rests her head on your chest. You silently hold her close, letting her tears spill on your shirt.

"Leave with me."

"Just go Draco."

You understand.

You don't want to, but you do. You kiss her on the forehead one last time before turning on your heel and walking out of her life.

You hear a faint 'I love you too' on the way out, but maybe it's just because you want to.

That day you drink yourself into unconsciousness.


Hey everyone! I hope you enjoyed. A few things: 1. I'll have the last chapter up by tomorrow. Fingers crossed* (sometimes things just do go as planned unfortunately.) 2. I really appreciate the feedback from the reviews. The tips are always taken into consideration. Thank you again. :)