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She looked beautiful. The most beautiful she had ever looked. Which is exactly how every bride should look on her wedding day. Her hair was straightened and pulled into an elegant updo, her dress was full like she was a princess, her nails were painted a milky white to match the bright white concept of the rest of the wedding. Everything was perfect. Except she wasn’t smiling. She wasn’t happy. She thought she would be but hers she is standing in front of the mirror in the bridal room in this beautiful church close to tears and almost crushing the stems of the bouquet in her hands. A soft knock on the door made her turn around.
“Hermione?”
“Ginny, where have you been? You disappeared.”
“I know, and I’m sorry. But I had to bring you something. Or umm… someone.” Hermione looked confused at her until Ginny stepped aside and Draco Malfoy stepped into view.
“Granger… wow.” His eyes traveled her body, taking the smooth white gown. “You look beautiful.”
“I’ll let you two talk,” said Ginny as she gently closes the door behind her on the way out.
“What are you doing here? You said you weren’t gonna come.” Hermione took a seat on one of the plush cream couches.
“I wasn’t going to come. But, Ginny showed up at my doorstep just as I was about to drown my sorrows in bourbon and call it a day. She said you weren’t happy. And I can see that. You look tired, Hermione.” Draco sat down beside her, his whole body facing her. “The dress and the church and you, they’re all beautiful. But she’s right. You aren’t happy.”
“I want to be. I’m trying so hard.” She could feel a tear falling down her cheek. She watched it plop onto a petal of one of her lily flowers.
“Maybe that's the problem. You shouldn’t have to try so hard to be happy. You should wake up beside the one you love every morning, knowing that it’s going to be a good day because you’re together. That you can do anything. Do you feel that way? With him?”
Hermione paused. There was a sob she was trying to choke down, but finally, it burst out with a “no!” She threw down the bouquet of flowers Molly chose and ran her hands along the plain white dress that Ginny had picked and looked around at the room in the church that Ron said was his favorite when they toured venues. This wasn’t her wedding. As much as she pretended to be happy about getting married, she had let everyone else get their way of how the day would go. She didn’t care about the flowers, or the dress, or the venue. She didn’t care because every step she was taking towards getting married to Ronald Weasley felt like she was one step closer to being trapped forever in a marriage, in a life, her 13-year-old self thought she wanted. She thought she’d be fine with settling down with him early and putting family first and popping out a million little red-headed babies and be a happy little housewife for him. But she isn’t. She isn’t 13 anymore, and there was no raging war that kept them together. She had grown up. She had branched out from being the loney girl who only had two friends. She had her growing charity and her growing political platform. She had lots of people that cared about her. Including Draco Malfoy, who only a week prior confessed that he loved her and would gladly stay by her side forever if given the chance.
She had never cheated on Ron. Not physically. But she would be lying if she said she never thought about running away with Draco and being with him. A week ago she was scared, no, terrified, of the idea of straying from this path it felt like she’d been on for so long. But now, here he was, beside her with his hand out waiting for her to take it.
So she did. She took it. “Get me out of here.” And they ran. Ginny snuck them out and they ran all the way back to the apartment she shared with Ron and packed all her things. “Take me somewhere. I don’t care where. Maybe somewhere beachy. I want to escape, can you do that for me?”
“I’d do anything for you.” She wanted to kiss him but decided against it. Maybe the day of her wedding wasn’t the best day to start a new relationship. So instead she squeezed his hand and they started packing suitcases.
For a month they lounged at the beaches of Spain, drinking and laughing and living. And she woke up every day loving life.
It was their last night there when she finally kissed him. “I’m sorry it took so long.” There was faint music coming from an ocean-side bar up the beach that was slowly winding down for the night. The moon above them and the water crashing against the sand was the perfect scene.
“I’m not. I would wait for as long as you need. I never want you to feel pressured to move on. You loved Weasley for a long time. Just because you don’t anymore doesn’t take away how hard it is to close that chapter of your life.” They slowly danced in the sand, their shoes long deserted.
“Is that how it was with Astoria?”
“It’s a little different I’m sure because we were never truly in love. But yeah.”
Hermione hummed into his shoulder as they slowly turned. “I wish we never had to leave.”
“Then who would be fighting for magical creatures and running the ministry?”
“I don’t run the Ministry yet. And I’m sure lots of legislators don’t miss me and my constant push for change.”
“Exactly why London needs you.”
“Yeah. But we have to promise right now that life won’t stay the same. I want to be this happy even when we return to our normal lives.”
“I think we can make that work. Once a year, no matter how busy we are, we have to go on a vacation. It doesn’t have to be for a month, I don’t think your schedule will allow it,” he said jokingly. “But once a year we get away from London. We go to France, or Italy, or back here to Spain. We just go somewhere. The two of us.”
Hermione smiled up at him and planted their second kiss on his lips. “Sounds like a plan.”
And they stuck to it. They traveled the world once a year and a few times in between when they got a long weekend away. For five years the two woke up with excitement and love in their hearts. A year in, they moved in together. They started and ended each day together, and worked hard at making the wizarding world a better place for future generations in the day in the Ministry.
On their fifth promised vacation they went back to Spain, Hermione having no idea of Draco’s plans to propose. In the soft sand they shared their fist of many kisses, he got down on one knee and asked him to make him the happiest man in the world. Of course, she said yes.
This time was much different from the last. She planned, yes she planned it herself, an outdoor wedding with only close friends and family: Narcissa, some fellow Slytherins to Draco, Harry, the Weasleys, including Ron, who had still remained a close friend. It was different now, but how could it not be? She held a large bouquet of peonies and stared at herself in the mirror of the bridal tent.
“Now that’s what a bride should look like,” said Ginny as she pulled aside the curtain that acted as the door. “You look gorgeous.”
“I know,” Hermione laughs. She took one hand and felt along the side of her perfectly fitted dress. The whole thing was beaded and caught the light beautifully. Her hair was out in her big curls, pushed out of her face by matching beaded clips that connected to the veil in the back. Her nails were painted a soft lavender that matched the flowers in her hand and that graced every table outside. It was perfect. And most important of all: she couldn’t wipe the smile off her face. She was marrying the love of her life today. They would be man and wife and they would continue to be happy for the rest of their days.
“They’re ready to begin if you are,” Ginny told her, holding the curtain back.
“I’m ready.” She had no doubts.
Walking down the aisle towards Draco, he was all she could see. The rest of the world disappeared from view making it only the two of them. She was undoubtedly happy. And she didn’t have to try at all. They read vows and promised their lives to each other, each ending with the little words. “I do.”