Hermione stared at the back of her eyelids and tried to breathe evenly. It was the first time she had been alone all day and it was finally beginning to sink in.

She should be nervous, she was walking into a room where a good portion of the attendees thought she didn't belong there. But they didn't exist to her, all she could picture behind her eyelids was his smile, that arrogant little smirk that pulled at his lip and twinkled through the light in his silver eyes. His laugh, the way he would bite his lip when he was thinking.

She pushed back her shoulders and tried to imagine the tightness at her waist was his hands supporting her upright. She shook her head slightly, emboldened, and slowly opened her eyes.

The second her eyes connected with what was in front of her she gasped. In the mirror she saw herself, standing in an elegant floor-length lace gown, that was the perfect mix of conservative and youthful. She laughed a little to herself, she actually looked rather beautiful. The off the shoulder neckline of her dress was made entirely of a delicate lace mesh that ran just past her elbows, layering over the sweetheart shape of the white dress below, clinging to her waistline before swooping down elegantly to the floor. She felt that she looked not unlike her own wand, the lace growing up her legs like vines from the bottom of the skirt.

Her hair was pulled back into an elegant chignon, with a few loose curls framing her face, which had the perfect mix of charms and Muggle cosmetics to make her look naturally beautiful. She had felt beautiful a handful of times in her life, but it had never impacted her as it did now.

Hermione watched the lace of her gown move up and down her chest as it rose and fell as her image in the mirror blurred. She let go of her white bouquet to dab at the corner of her eye with her finger, she didn't want to ruin her makeup minutes before the ceremony.

As if on cue, she heard a few timid knocks on the door behind her.

She dabbed the final tear out of her eye and gave her reflection one last smile. She turned on her heels and her dress swooped around her, as she fixed her veil behind her shoulder she finally felt like a bride, 'Come in,' she said trying to keep her voice steady.

The door opened slowly, and her father peeked his head around the door. She beamed at the look on his face, letting out a little laugh as his face softened, he didn't need to tell her he thought she was beautiful, it was in the visible choke in the back of his throat.

All he could manage was a quiet, 'It's time, dear.'

She nodded, and walked through the door he held open for her. Outside the hall was empty, and she was glad of it. Her dad closed the door behind her and held his arm out for her to take. She moved her bouquet to her other hand and slid her arm into his. They walked down the corridor together. She looked down to the floor smiling as she wondered if he was nervously trying to get in another practice.

Her father let out an uncomfortable little cough to clear his throat, 'You know,' she looked up to see him swallow anxiously, avoiding her eyes, 'I don't know much about this world, and I don't understand all this blood stuff ,' he stiffened a little, and looked directly back at her 'but no one in that room can make you feel inferior, unless you let them.'

'Eleanor Roosevelt,' she smiled softly, feeling the warmth of his own shining back at her. Suddenly, it was like she was a girl again, bonding with her father over their love of knowledge.

They heard the music start just as they turned the last corner towards her wedding. Her father put his hand on hers, giving it a tight squeeze into her elbow and she nodded at him determinedly, returning her eyes to her path just in time to see Ginny wave excitedly at her before following Luna's lead into the double-wide doors at the bottom of the hall. Hermione smiled and laughed a little at the girl, well woman now, but her personality meant she would always seem girlish to her.

The white doors were fast approaching, and the butterflies were tickling at her stomach. She felt like she could hardly breathe as she and her father turned to enter into the room. She thought her eyes would be immediately drawn to her groom, but she avoided his eyes, suddenly finding herself shy even as she was to marry the man.

Instead, the first thing she noticed were the pursed lips, the cold stares, and the disdainful chin tilts aimed at her direction. But then she noticed Narcissa at the front of the room, absolutely beaming with pride. Her husband tight jawed, but reluctantly standing smiling beside her.

Hermione took in a deep breath and closed her eyes as she took her first step towards her future. She knew that directly in front of her, at the end of this aisle, stood Draco Lucius Malfoy, the last person she ever thought she would marry. The last person the old bigots in the room thought she should marry. She smiled at the thought, and here she was marrying him anyway. She tilted her head upright, her very presence on this aisle, in this white gown, to marry that man, was a massive middle finger to all of them who thought she was below them and she smiled all the brighter for that thought. She stood tall, opened her eyes and held on to her Muggle father's arm with pride.

She finally had the courage to look at him. He was breathtakingly handsome himself, in his grey perfectly tailored suit, standing tall next to Blaise. But it was his face that had Hermione's heart racing in her chest, he looked equal parts stunned and deliriously happy. When he looked at her like that it was as if no one else in the room existed but them. She couldn't help but beam a smile at her groom, more certain than ever that she was marrying the right man, others' objections be damned.

Even in the midst of all this hate, he looked at her like she was the most precious thing in the world.