Disclaimer: If i were J.K. Rowling, Draco and Hermione would have TOTALLY ended up together.

A/N: This is a very short one shot I wrote, with an implied Dramione. I love tha angstier (is that a word) ones, and although this one isnt total angst, i still think it fits that genre. besides, theres nothing else it fits into. :P

Read and Review pleaze. i love feedback!

Brown Eyes

Saying that he was nervous would be an understatement.

He felt simply sick, and was dreading when the ceremony actually began. He was sure he'd throw up.

But he only had a few minutes left now, and he was afraid, too. What was he doing?!

His parents were ushered in then, looking elegant in fine dress robes, and he faked a smirk at them. Really, he felt so awful that he was sure it had turned out as a grimace.

The highest class of society were there, all dressed elegantly, for the wedding of one Draco Malfoy.

He inwardly groaned. How had this happened? He had never wanted it…

The bridesmaids entered then, interrupting his miserable thoughts. Daphne Greengrass was first.

Her hair was dark brown, and curled elegantly. She walked in, her deep green dress fluttering slightly in the stale church air. She gracefully glided by, forward enough to wink at him as she passed. Only Daphne would wink at the groom.

Her cousin, Astoria, was next. She looked very different than her cousin, however, with flowing blonde hair and sparkling green eyes. She smiled brightly at him as she took her position.

Too fast, everything was happening too fast. Couldn't they walk a little slower?

The last bridesmaid entered, and he bit back a shudder. Millicent Bulstrode looked absolutely horrific in her green dress, which had been widened considerable to fit her thighs.

The flower girl was next in the procession, some second cousin of his bride. He watched the girl's dark curls bounce as she walked in, tossing rose petals.

He couldn't watch. But wasn't he supposed to?

She was next. Pansy Parkinson – soon to be Pansy Malfoy, entered the church on her father's arm.

She was beaming. He knew she had been long waiting for this day, and now it had finally come. Her face was absolutely covered in make up and her teeth were bleached bright white. It didn't make her look attractive. Not that she ever did.

As she finally reached the altar, he unwillingly took her hand, and turned to face the minister.

It was easy to tune the old man out. The speech made no sense, and was pathetically boring. He found himself staring out the window.

It was raining. Supposedly, if it rained on your wedding day, it was good luck. But he knew better. There was nothing good about this marriage, and luck wouldn't change a thing.

He turned to look at Pansy. She looked prettier than usual, he supposed. Her black hair was a waterfall of curls down her back, and she was smiling hugely. That was when he saw it.

Pansy had brown eyes.

His stomach lurched, and his mind whirled with familiar images of another pair of brown eyes. And he knew that whenever he saw his bride he would see the other eyes.

He heard the minister finally, and realized what this meant. It was his turn. His turn to promise to love her and cherish her, and stay with her. He felt sick again.

He knew he would regret this moment, hate it forever. He bit his lip, wishing…

He looked back into Pansy's eyes, and remembered other eyes, a deeper brown than the flat colour of Pansy's. He remembered the bushy brown curls, and the gold lion crest on her robes, and the warm smile never bestowed upon him, and the nasty remarks, and the way her fist had connected with his face, and her sharp wit. And he remembered her warm brown eyes, dancing with emotion.

And so as he looked deeply into Pansy's eyes, the audience saw love in his gaze, while he simply stared at her deeply, wishing desperately that she were the other one with brown eyes. And though he knew he would wish to take these words back, he spoke.

"I do."