In His Eyes

She stood in front of the large mirror, looking upon herself. She was clad all in white and a bouquet of roses was clutched between her hands.

It was the most beautiful dress she had ever worn, and her hair was in gorgeous wispy curls.

She smiled sadly at her reflection; today she was to be married, and though it should have been the happiest day of her life, it wasn't. She didn't want to marry, and she doubted her partner did either. However, it had to be done. She had to do this.

It would help not only her friends, but the entire Wizarding and muggle worlds alike. A sacred alliance mentioned in prophecy, which would unite two opposite bloodlines, and cross two different worlds.

Sighing, Hermione allowed a tear to escape from her glistening eyes and trickle down her powdered cheek. She looked down at the roses, in which she held, and she regarded them the same as she always did; Roses, yet sweet in scent, contain thorns of pain. This phrase seemed appropriate to her, as she knew that what she was about to do would bring the war to an end and finally bring peace, but also that she herself would never have the chance to find true love.

She had always dreamt of what it would be like to fall in love; had fantasized what it would be like to find her prince.

She was just like any other girl, though sometimes it seemed as if she cared nothing for these things, wanting to be swept off her feet and find someone who could take her breath away.

Hermione picked a petal off one of the roses and caressed it between her fingertips. She felt its smoothness, its pure unblemished skin.

Closing her eyes, she pondered over how she had gotten to be in this situation. Harry had told her about the prophecy and had asked her to make the biggest sacrifice anyone ever could; to giver her life entirely to the service and peace of the people. She had accepted after much thought, knowing that though every thought inside her head told her to refuse, she had to listen to her heart and to her soul.

She knew that what she was doing was the right thing; she was their last hope.

Her eyes opened slowly as she heard the organ music being played, and she knew that it was time.

Letting the rose petal slip from her fingers and gracefully float to the floor, she turned and, with equal grace, swept from the room and stood beside her father.

She looked up at him and knew that he was proud of her. He kissed her cheek and eyed her with admiration.

"I am happy to have had you for a daughter." He smiled warmly down at her, his eyes full of sympathy.

Hermione looked into her fathers loving eyes, "Thank you, dad," and nodded gratefully.

Her father linked his arm with hers and then the pair took the first step into Hermione's inevitable destiny.

The wooden church doors were opened, and the music played on. Hermione looked at all the face looking upon her; some were sad, some happy, and some just seemed disgusted with the whole idea.

She felt her father squeeze her arm reassuringly and she leaned closer to him. She couldn't express how much love she felt for him at this moment. He had always been there to support her. He had always been there when she needed him to give her that lift when she just couldn't reach.

Then, glancing to the right side of the room, she saw all of her classmates and friends from Hogwarts smiling at her gratefully. She smiled weakly at them and then looked towards the altar.

There she saw him. He was standing there, tall and proud, with his Slytherin friends behind him.

Hermione felt a sudden sick feeling in her heart as she imagined how he must loathe her at this moment.

They had always had a hateful outlook on one another; the two had never seen eye-to-eye.

Yet, he had agreed to do this and it, she had to admit, was something she had never expected him to do. It was noble of him; noble and self-sacrificing.

And now, as she neared him, she felt as if every step was heavy and strenuous, as if some invisible force was trying to push her back.However, she was determined; determined to do what was right; to do what was needed to be done. But, she was also saddened; saddened at the conclusion that perhaps she was never ment to find love.

"You look beautiful," came a whisper from beside her. Hermione turned and smiled at Ginny Weasely, then directed her attention back on the altar, which was decorated with dozens of attractive white roses.

She then realized that she was only a few steps away from her husband-to-be. Her stomach began to churn with nervous anxiety and her heart began to pound within her chest.

Hermione looked up at her father as he let go of her arm. She felt like crying, and couldn't help but let one tear escape as another arm gently took hers, replacing that of her father.

She closed her eyes wishing that this could all just be a dream, but when again she opened them, all that greeted her were the stormy eyes of Draco Malfoy.

And, as she gazed into them, she was somewhat startled at how soft they were, and how gently they stared into hers. In his eyes she saw, resolve, joy, and…love?

Her mouth parted slightly; was there more to Draco's reasons to marry her than she had assumed? He looked so compassionate, and his expressions were so soft and innocent.

She had never seen him this way, with not a smirk or a sneer to be found.

Then, he smiled. A truly genuine, beautiful smile. Hermione felt her knees going weak and noticed how tingly her hand suddenly felt as he gently took it in his.

How, in just one look, did he make her feel this way?

"Are you ready for this, Granger?" he asked softly.

She looked down at her feet a moment and then raised her head to meet his affectionate gaze.

"I am, Malfoy." She returned his smile with equal beauty and then the two turned and faced the altar.

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye and she looked up at him. This wasn't love at first sight or anything like that, no, this was love that had always been there, though it had been hiding in their hearts for so long, waiting to be found.

Hermione smiled up at Draco Malfoy; maybe she was ment to find true love.

The End