O n e s h o t

It was my day. The one day in my life that, for all intents and purposes, revolved around me. It was supposed to be the most radiant, joyous, unquestionably perfect day in the history of my life. The sun seemed to be shining at its brightest, as if to punctuate the day's happiness--everything outside was bright and colorful. Excited laughter floated through the partially open window, belonging to my friends, my family.

My dress was immaculate--flowing out in lacy torrents from the intricately beaded empire waistline, held in place by the thin halter straps. Falling in waves to my shoulders, my hair was tame, and shining. My skin had a radiant glow, and my face looked pretty from beneath the sheer, white veil. The roses in my hands--red, white, paired with pale, drooping flowers--were flawless, and the smell filled my nostrils. The tiny clip in my hair held a tiny blue flower, the simple diamond necklace had belonged to my mother, the earrings that adorned my lobes were Ginny's, and the dress itself had been bought only weeks before in Diagon Alley. Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue.

And out there, somewhere, was my best friend. The red-head I'd known for ten years, the boy who'd been my first kiss, and the man who was now my fiance--soon to be my husband. Ronald Weasley, who'd pulled together every penny from his paychecks--refusing to dip into his brimming Grinngotts vault, instead insisting on working for it--to buy the simple gold ring shining on my finger. Ron, the boy who was afraid of spiders, the boy who'd fallen so deeply in love with Hermione Granger.

Yes, it was the most important day of my whole, entire life. And yes, the day that I'd looked forward to for so very, very long.

And it was all irrevocably, horribly, impossibly wrong.

-

I met the brown eyes in the mirror, watched the tears spilling silently, trying to puzzle it out as if it was a particularly hard Arithmancy problem. My veil was pulled back, away from my face, and the face staring back at me resembled nothing of a happy bride. Ginny's foresight to cast a water proof spell on my makeup was perhaps a stroke of genius, although it did nothing to fix the quivering, down turned line of my lips--and though the shimmery shadow surrounding them was beautiful and undisturbed, it did nothing to hide the misery in my eyes.

"What am I doing here?"

The soft whisper that escaped my mouth rang out in the small, silent room of the Burrow. It was imploring, asking my reflection for an impossible answer. The reflection, of course, had none. One small, shuddering gasp fell from my lips. I don't know how long I stood there, silently crying, before my eyes slid up to the space above my right shoulder. Piercing green eyes met mine in the mirror. The flowers fell to the floor as I whirled around, and I gasped.

"Harry!" Alarmed, I hurriedly wiped my eye with the back of my hand, futilely. No one was supposed to know that I was having second thoughts--I'd just grit my teeth and get through it, like always. With a thick voice, I asked, "How long have you been standing there?"

Harry's broad hand gently pulled my wrist away from my eyes, silently communicating that I no longer had to put on a show. His face had aged finely, more chiseled and distinct, more handsomely manly. But his green eyes still held the kindness and understanding, the lust for justice, that had forever defined him.

"Long enough."

Never removing his gaze from mine, he opened his arms, and I could hold it in no more. I hesitated, but the non-judgemental, understanding look on his face stripped away my determination. I collapsed within his arms, and he hugged me tightly. I sobbed quietly into his shoulder. A sad sigh escaped his lips as he soothingly rubbed my back.

"Oh, Hermione. It never should have come this far."

It made me sob harder. Somehow I managed to speak around the tears, enough to say, "I love him, Harry! I-I thought...thought it would b-be enough!"

His arms tightened. "Shh, shh, 'Mione, it'll be alright. We'll fix it. It'll be alright."

As he rocked me back and forth, my sobs slowly subsided. His grip loosed, and I pulled back to return to the mirror and look woefully at the mirror.

"Everyone said....we were m-meant to be. It's what's expected! Ronald, youngest of the sons, and Hermione, the know-it-all bookworm. A match made in heaven!"

My voice was slightly bitter, and more than slightly unstable. Harry sat back, listening to me for a moment.

"And..and...they're like family to me! My brothers: Fred, George, you, Bill, Charlie. And...and Ron." The words softened as my voice trailed off. "But...but that's just it, isn't it? That's..."

"All he'll ever be," finished Harry. He raked a hand through his forever disheveled hair, and gave another agitated sigh. "Hermione, listen. You can't just marry Ron because it's what people expect of you! I know, you love him, and you thought that you'd be able to live with that--and maybe I did, too, for a while. But you can't just sacrifice your own happiness! And no, don't lie, this does not make you happy! It can't, not when you've already given your heart away." He raised a hand to stop my protest. "No, no, I'm not blaming you--you can't help whom you love. No one expects you to. The Weasleys....they love you, Ron or no. They want you to be happy. And most of them realize that...well, that you can't be, not this way. You need to walk away from this, now, before you lose the chance."

"But-"

"They know that, you know that, I know that. And...and I think, deep down, Ron knows that, too."

There was silence. Then, "If I hadn't come to talk to you, Fred probably would've. Or George. Or Bill. Or Gin. You love him, Hermione, but you're not in love with him."

And it was true. I'd known all along that it was, but it just seemed...unavoidable. Harry was right--I couldn't love Ron, and never would be able to, not while I still loved him. A watery sigh filled the silence.

"I suppose...Thanks, Harry."

A small, sad smile gifted his face. "Yeah. Now go."

"Go?" My eyes widened. The alarm was evident in my voice.

"Ron's...he's having second thoughts, too. I'll talk to him, and to everyone else. You go do what you need to do."

"But I can't just leave! It'll break Molly's heart! I--"

"Just go." Harry's voice was kind, but firm. "Love you, 'Mione."

I stood for a second, unsure, before giving one last sniff and flinging my arms around Harry. "You, too, Harry. I guess....bye, then." I stepped back, gave my reflection one last glance, and apparated.

--

Only when I arrived in an empty, echoing, elaborate hallway did I realize that I was an unexpected guest--in a wedding dress. And I was still crying. Brilliant.

Turn back, just go back. Run.

My thoughts were wild, jumping around frantically, and my feet wouldn't move. Stay, or leave? I was torn. I stared down the beautiful hall, regarding the marble palace with no small amount of fear. I don't belong here.

But I stayed.

Tentatively, I put one foot forward, then the other. God hadn't struck me down yet, so I continued, slowly, carefully. My feet seemed to know where I was going better than I, so I just went where they took me, and found myself faced with a huge, oak door. And I knew where it led--I'd been here before. My hand raised hesitantly to the door handle, but paused, hovering mid-air.

Faced with that door, reality hit me.

What had I done?

I'd just left my best friend, practically at the alter. I'd just abandoned my wedding day, my foster family...Oh, God! How much had I just thrown away? And for what? Was it worth it? Was true love really, truly worth it? I didn't know. I panicked, and the flight instinct kicked in. I turned on my heel and fled.

I made it all of three steps before the sound of a door opening stopped me in my tracks. My back still facing the door, I felt the other person freeze, as I had, and I heard the soft gasp. Neither of us moved, both waiting with bated breath. Neither of us dared speak. My moth was dry, and anticipation lined every part of me.

Slowly, after what seemed a life time, I turned my head, centimeter by centimeter, my eyes fluttered closed. As I opened them and took in the sight before me, my question was answered.

Yes, it was very much worth it.

The light in Draco Malfoy's eyes made everything, no matter how painful, worth it. As I turned and met those silver, confused eyes, I brought my hand to my mouth and released a small, dry sob.

His hair was deshelved, and his eyes were mildly puffy and red. His soft, pink lips were slightly parted, and he was staring at me in disbelief. When he spoke, his voice rasped, and I shivered.

"What are you doing here?"

There was no witty response, no know-it-all jab, no lovestruck declaration--there was only the truth:

"The right thing."

And I threw myself at him, melting into his lean, tall frame. I breathed in his scent, tried to memorize it, him. He seemed to be doing the same.

"You came back."

His disbelieving murmur brought fresh tears to my eyes, for I could hear his tears in his voice. I held him tighter, and he clung to me. We clung to each other, because just then, we were all we had.

I thought that perhaps--that definitely--an explanation was in order, so I tried.

"I couldn't....marry him, not....I still loved....I belong here, with....with you."

I felt his smile on my neck, and felt a matching, watery one spread across my face. I laughed.

"Oh, Draco," was all I could say.

He pulled back, his white blond hair falling in his face, and his grin took all the remaining pain away. No words were needed as he gently brought his lips to mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and we just stayed like that, deepening the kiss, for the longest time. He pulled away only to whisper,

"I love you, Hermione."

Yes, it was worth it. We would deal with the consequences later. Me, in his arms, the man I was in love with....Right now, this was right.

What a striking difference.

Aw, I kinda thought that one was cute. Really don't know what inspired it. I hope y'all like it--lemme know!

Thanks for reading! Oh, and I don't own anything.

--Paris