Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Harry Potter, but I love writing about them.
Author's note: Thanks so much for all the encouragement you guys have given me regarding my exams. BUT my exams are not over, they haven't even started…can you believe it? The previous chapter was something that I came up with during one of my study breaks and my exams are still looming on the horizon. But still, I couldn't just leave you guys like that so I decided to write this which I know a lot of people have been waiting for. I hope it's good though.
The days passed in a blur, her feelings of dread, fear and confusion intensifying with every day that passed. And that day had finally arrived.
The minute she had opened her eyes, she could feel her heavy heart weighing her down like a boulder that was going to crush her. She sighed, a lone tear trailing down the side of her face and soaking into the pillow, as she lay on her bed, her head resting on the limp pillow and her legs wrapped up in the sheets.
She sat up slowly, trying to hold her emotions in check and headed for the bathroom. Staring at her reflection in the mirror, she felt even worse then ever, a sick, souring sensation stirring in the pit of her stomach. Her reflection looked back at her, the tell-tale shadows of sorrow and exhaustion beneath her widened dark eyes, a stark contrast to the striking paleness of her face that was almost hollow in a way.
Tonight, she would no longer be just Hermione Granger; she would be Hermione Saunders, a married woman. She would no longer come home after a long day's work to an empty apartment, there would be someone else coming home too. She would no longer toss and turn in her bed alone, but have another body, another presence next to her.
The very thought of it made the sick feeling spread throughout her entire body, such that she had barely made it to the toilet to throw up, with an amazing force that surprised even her. Her mother, who had been passing by the bathroom, had popped her head in worriedly to ask if she was alright, to which Hermione had replied, rather shakily, that it was just nerves and that it would come to pass.
But inside, she knew that what she was feeling wasn't just nerves, and couldn't even come close to the 'nervous, dizzy anticipation' that all brides-to-be were supposed to wake up to on the morning of their wedding, according to the Witch Weekly.
She had wanted to call off the wedding, wanted so badly to somehow extract herself from this bloody big mess she had gotten herself embroiled in but yet, couldn't bring herself to break Damien's heart. Even if she didn't love him, he had always been there for her, and she couldn't bring herself to say the words that would crush his entire being.
She had seen Harry so many times ever since the beginning of her wedding preparations that she knew, that he was not really there. But yet, each time she'd seen him, he had been so real, so real, that she believed she could almost reach out and touch him. But before she could prove to herself that he really was there, he had disappeared.
She found herself missing him more, her mind growing more confused whenever she saw him, her emotions growing wilder and wilder such that she could barely keep them under control. Sometimes, the intensity of her emotions scared even her, scared her that one day she would just lose control. She wondered if she was slowly going crazy and that thought had terrified her.
She had grown so tired of trying constantly to be in control of her mind, her heart, all the time and all that effort had taken its toll on her. Almost everyone could see it but she simply passed it off as being a tiring period at the institute.
Merlin, she missed him so much, all the time, so much so that her head hurt, that her heart hurt, that every fibre of her being ached with the dull pain of grief.
Brushing away the tears that had once again trickled down her cheeks, she struggled to regain her composure, to keep her emotions in check for one last day. One last day and it would all be over.
*****************
She sat in the high-backed chair, her hands in her lap, clothed in delicate lacy gloves. She stared at the Hermione in the mirror, not recognizing herself. The folds of her dress lay cool against her bare thighs, draping gracefully over her legs to show the toes of her ivory pumps. Her hair had been swept up into a chignon, with a few curls straying from it and dangling, the tips of the loose strands touching her bare nape.
Her face was made-up by the professional make-up artist her mom had brought in. It was nothing too over the top, simple in such a way that it highlighted her best features. Yet, it was able to disguise the entire mess of emotions that was ravaging inside her at this moment. Throughout her entire morning, so many people had come to congratulate her on her wedding, they'd gushed about how handsome and kind Damien was and how beautiful and smart she was, and how they made the most wonderful couple.
She had managed to push her facial muscles into what she had hoped was a polite and gracious smile, and it must have
worked because no one, except Ron had taken one look at her and gone, "What's wrong with you? It's your
wedding day and yet you look as though you've just been attacked by millions of Wrackspurts!"
Ron, she had concluded, with a slight smile, had been spending way too much time with Luna.
That had been her first real smile of the day, and that had been a few hours ago.
Now she was simply sitting here, waiting for her father to come in and take her to the altar. She felt that familiar souring sensation stir in her stomach, and wondered briefly if she could make it to the bathroom to throw up in time. It would not do if she had barf all over her wedding dress when she walked down the aisle.
She tried to crack a small joke with herself, to make the Hermione in the mirror smile but it fell flat. The Hermione in mirror simply stared back at her, confusion and a deep-rooted sorrow in her eyes, that made her look away, unable to look at that expression.
She had never wanted anything more than just to get out of here, and run off to some faraway island where she would never have to worry about Damien or Harry.
But she knew she wouldn't. She couldn't.
It was no longer love that held her here, that had ended, stopped abruptly so long ago. It was obligation. She had gotten herself caught in such a situation that she could almost feel herself sinking into its depths where she was sure she would drown, or die.
Where are you? She pleaded. Please, come and save me. I can't do this. I can't get out of this wedding but I can't go through with it either. Please.
She had not known how badly she had wanted that, or how true it was until she realized that she was crying again, a tear slipping down the side of her face.
Quickly, she dabbed at it, to prevent the carefully applied make-up from getting smudged and shut her eyes against the hot sensation of tear pricking against her eyelids. She missed him so, so much she would have given anything and everything for him to appear right now, for him to save her.
Just then the door opened and she jerked her head upright towards the door, her eyes widening, hoping silently that no one would have noticed her red-rimmed eyes.
Her heart sank.
Damien strode into the room, his smile widening once he saw her. She held her breath unconsciously praying that he would not have noticed anything wrong with her.
"You look gorgeous." He knelt beside her chair, his hand reaching up to touch her face gently. She tried not to recoil at his touch, but failed. It was wrong. Everything felt wrong. Hermione forced her lips to curve into a slight, teasing smile.
"Don't you know its bad luck to see the bride before you get married?" Her voice cracked, slightly, to her horror, and when she had cleared her throat to continue, her voice was choked with what would have been emotion and tears and not the light tone she was hoping to achieve. Please, don't notice.
It did not work.
"I'll risk it." Damien smiled, before it was quickly wiped off his chiseled face and narrowed his eyes at her thoughtfully, reaching his hand to push away one of the curls that had fallen over her eyes. "What's wrong?" He scrutinized her more carefully with an expression that made her feel even more uneasy, even more afraid of what was coming up next. "Your eyes, they're red." His frown made her hold her breath even longer. "Have you been crying?" The suspicion in his eyes made her want to break down so desperately but she hung on to that last shred of self-control.
"It's the foundation." She heard herself saying, lying so easily. "I'm allergic to it but I've removed it."
She didn't move for that moment, praying he would just take it as it was and not push it. She didn't think she would be able to take his questions any further.
Damien broke out into a small smile, one that was tentative but it was still a smile, one that made her release her pent-up breath in a whoosh. "Leave it off then." He paused before heading for the door. "You look nice without it anyway."
And with that he was gone, leaving Hermione with the emotions that made her feel so utterly scared and vulnerable against its onslaught. No one would have and could have known that she was that close to her breaking point.
*****************
And finally that moment had arrived. Hermione found herself facing Damien, looking up into his face which was alight with happiness, happiness at marrying her, she realized with a jolt. And now here she was struggling to make her expression one of 'radiant love', as the Witch Weekly had so aptly described.
She drew in one more shuddery breath, hoping it would fortify her against the barrage of feelings that were raging inside her. So this was like to be torn apart by your emotions, she thought wryly, still forcing the smile onto her face. She felt her face become a sort of glass mask, one that hid everything, how distorted and confused her emotions were making her feel.
"Do you, Hermione Granger, take Damien Saunders as your husband?"
The man's words broke through her fog, and she watched as the small circle of rainbow colors encircled her and Damien, knowing that she had to say those fateful words by the time the colors changed to purple.
She opened her mouth to speak, but found herself unable to make any sound. The circle was glowing red, the color becoming somewhat like the Gryffindor Quidditch robes that Harry had almost worn….
She struggled to make some sort of noise, but found herself almost entranced by the circle of color, which was now diminishing to a bright orange, one that was so reminiscent of the pumpkins that had grown in Hagrid's backyard, the ones that Buckbeak had resided in, the patch where she had hidden in with Harry in order to save Buckbeak from a wrongful death.
The orange had faded to become an almost summery yellow. Her emotions were now screaming at her, their words crashing, tumbling and fighting against one another to be spoken by her. She felt almost faint, sick. She barely saw Damien's worried look or the congregation stirring slightly, whispering among themselves.
The yellow melted into an almost luminescent green, one that reminded her so much of Harry's eyes, the ones that could always see what she was really thinking, the ones that never failed to make her feel better when they were gleaming with laughter, the ones that had later scared her so much when they had lost their spark in the quest for Voldermort…
Just as she was staring into a sea of blue, she felt something nudge her, not physically but internally. It was so familiar by now, it had become something like an instinct, and she turned her head towards the entrance of the hall, her eyes widening at what she saw past the wisp of colors that were going to bind her and Damien for life…
Harry.
He stood there in the entrance of the hall, staring up at her, a mixture of bewilderment, and of dismay crossing his face, shadowing his features. And somehow, she knew that this time, Harry was really there. If there was anything that made her even more sure that he was real and not just an illusion, it was some members of the congregation turning to look at the entrance as well, their expressions becoming one of shock…
And he turned and ran.
Hermione didn't stop to think twice. She broke out of the rainbow circlet which had by now turned a deep purple, not hearing Damien's desperate plea, just simply lifting her skirt slightly and running down the aisle, after him. She ignored the crowd's murmurs, her heart thudding heavily with every step she took, every fibre of her being praying that that was really him, yearning that for him, the blood rushing through her veins, leaving a loud roaring in her ears.
She ran out of the hall, turned a sharp left and pushed open the big, heavy doors of the cathedral and ran out into the sunny streets, ignoring the strange looks the passer bys were giving her. She looked about frantically, breathing heavily, for any sign of him.
Her heart began to sink once more as an undescribable misery overwhelmed her and for the millionth time today it seemed, she cried, hiding her face in her hands and running almost blindly in the opposite direction. She had been wrong. Harry had never come back. It had all been just her and she was now so sure that she was going mad.
She drew to a stop, the tears still coming fast and furious, destroying the hour long make-up job that the make-up artist had painstakingly done. Her breaths were coming in pants and she sank to her knees in the street, no longer caring about how she must have looked.
Is this punishment? Is this punishment because I never told you that I loved you and now I have to spend the rest of my life seeing you when you're not really there? The thought wrenched another sob from her throat which felt scraped raw from the sobs that were issuing from it. I can't do it. I don't want to be able to see you when you're not really there. I can't do it! Her shoulders shook with the force of her thoughts, almost violently.
Just then, she felt a warm hand take her by the shoulder and pull her to her feet. She knew it was probably Damien who had done that, but she knew one more thing, that she could never marry him. She could not be married to him and still feel guilty upon seeing Harry who wasn't really there. She could never love him as she had loved Harry.
But for now, she did not want to explain, but to be left alone with her grief that he was really gone, that she would have to keep seeing Harry when he wasn't really there.
"Leave me alone, Damien!" She wrenched her elbow from his, with a force that surprised even her in her miserable state. But the hand held on, moving up her forearm to grasp her wrist, with a surprising iron grip.
"Please," She choked out, unable to form any more coherent words than she was able to stop crying. "Just leave me alone."
Her sobs came even harder, her body convulsing and her shoulders shaking with the force of her grief that swept her like a colossal tidal wave.
"I'm not Damien."
The voice made her jerk her head up from her hand, tears still streaming down it as she turned it to look at the one and only person it could belong to.
Harry.
His name had come out of her mouth, softly, in a half pleading whisper. She was pleading with him to be real this time, to not torment her with his illusions anymore. Her large, miserable eyes met his emerald bewildered yet pained ones. She could feel his fingers holding on tightly to her wrist. He was real. And slowly, her sobs began to subside almost miraculously as she stared at him, her eyes tracing his every feature, as numbing joy began to seep through every part of her body.
Slowly, almost hesitantly, he took her into his arms, brushing away her tears with his thumb, gently, and lowered his lips to hers in the most tender kiss she had ever experienced until her thoughts were filled with nothing but him, and him alone.
He was home.
Okay that was really, really long. There is one more chapter left to go and I might do an epilogue but I don't really have any ideas so I'm open to your suggestions. Let me know yeah? And please review!