Ron clinked his knife against his glass as he rose. Quiet fell over the white tent, and Hermione wrung her hands in her lap. Her notes were creased from folding and refolding them a hundred times. Her stomach was a mess of knots. Pull yourself together, she thought sternly and turned her attention to the red-headed man standing next to her.
“All right, all right, that’s what I’m talking about!” Someone from the crowd laughed and Hermione’s stomach twisted even more. Could everyone tell she was sweating? She hoped not.
“Now,” Ron continued, “everyone give it up for the maid of honor, Hermione Granger!”
The tent exploded in applause, and Hermione rose. Her knees knocked together from her shaking, but she put on a smile and raised her glass of champagne. “A toast to the groom,” she said, actively avoiding eye contact with him. “A toast to the bride!” Ginny smiled at her with tears glittering in her eyes. Her brilliant red hair was twisted delicately, her wedding dress beautiful and flowing, but it was the sparkling rings and her position next to the groom that made Hermione’s eyes fill with tears as well.
“From your sister,” she continued as she tried to squash the warble out of her voice. The crowd aww-ed at that, and Ginny was handed a green pocket square to dab her eyes with. “Who is always by your side. To your union-” God, don’t cry Hermione, hold yourself together “-and the hope that you provide.”
She finally allowed her gaze to travel to the man sitting next to Ginny. Her lip quivered as she took in the burning gaze of Harry Potter, a smile traced across his lips. He held the eye contact, licking his lips (a nervous tic, Hermione had collected so many of these realizations she could fill an entire novel). “May you always,” she let out, feeling choked with emotions and desire, “be satisfied.”
Harry’s eyes burned into her as his smile slowly fell from his lips. Hermione felt like he could see right into her, see her deepest desires.
Was he too, rewinding to that night in their past? Did he also feel the white tent and the smiling people in it fade and spin away as that night came back to him with striking clarity?
Standing there as she rewound to that fateful night, remembering the feel of her light pink dress and the haze of the ballroom, she could only think how she knew she would regret that night for the rest of her life.
She and Ginny had gone to the Yule Ball stag. The pair of them had been unimpressed by the male population at Hogwarts and hadn’t wanted to deal with the bother of a date or the consequences that could come from a bad one. That didn’t stop boys from stumbling up to them and lavishing them with praise. The room was beautiful, lit with only candlelight, and as Ginny twirled away in a cloud of perfume and desire, Hermione hid in the corner as she sipped some lukewarm Butterbeer and watched the pairs of people dance together in the dreamlike room.
She remembered the instant she saw his face, handsome and sharp. His cheeks were smooth shaven with just a hint of smirk. Wire rimmed glasses framed beautiful emerald eyes, and Hermione couldn’t help but stare at him. Her eyes tracked him from across the room, and when he finally noticed her, he lazily circled the room to make his way to her. He nodded at her, taking in the light pink ball gown Ginny had helped her pick out and her curled hair, pinned back with a delicate clip.
“Hi.”
It was as if someone had casted a Tongue-Tied Jinx on Hermione. What was her name again?
“You strike me,” he breathed, “as a woman who has never been satisfied.”
Hermione regarded him with surprise as heat rushed to her cheeks. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, you forget yourself,” she practically hissed. Embarrassment flooded her body, and she held herself by the arms as if she would break. She cast her gaze back towards the dancing crowd.
“You’re like me,” he continued, undeterred. “I’ve never been satisfied.”
Hermione turned back to him, but he stared back, unaffected. He was telling the truth. A small smile formed on her face. “Is that right?” she asked softly.
He shrugged. “I’ve never been satisfied,” he replied with a laugh.
“My name is Hermione Granger.”
“Harry Potter.”
“Where’s your family from?”
His hands started to fidget. Chewed fingernails grabbed half healed cuticles and peeled them away. He flinched as he averted his gaze from Hermione. Must be embarrassed of them, she mused.
“Unimportant,” he dismissed. “But there’s a million things I haven’t done. So just you wait, Hermione Granger. Just you wait.”
And there it was. They dove into energetic conversation, both equally matched in wit and sarcastic teasing. Hermione had never chatted with someone so on her level about so many things. The feeling between them was charged and zinging and it coursed right through her bones and made her shiver in the chill of the ballroom. She found that he agreed with her about elf rights, about the state of muggle borns in the wizarding world, with the fact that the best dessert that Hogwarts served was treacle tart.
Hermione has never felt this way before. She could drown in his electric green eyes and she wanted to grab him by the arm and take him far away, keep him with her forever. She fell faster and faster and the butterflies in her stomach raced around and around as Harry smiled at her, his eyes glinting in the dreamy candlelight-
And then Hermione turned to her right as she laughed at a comment Harry made and her eyes snagged on Ginny’s face. Her pale pink lips were parted in a perfect oh and her blue dress glimmered in a way that looked like a spotlight was on her. A flush bloomed across her cheeks, her blue eyes soft with longing.
She was helpless.
And then she mouthed mine.
Hermione’s stomach sank like a stone.
She turned to Harry, who was still talking animatedly about how he wanted to fight with the Aurors in the war. Hermione could hardly stand to look at him as she grabbed his arm gently and started to lead him across the ballroom.
He cut off mid-sentence. “Where are you taking me?”
“I’m about to change your life.”
She could feel his grin without even looking at him. Merlin, it’s like she’d known him her whole life.
“Then by all means, lead the way.”
With every step that neared her to Ginny, Hermione reminded herself why she was doing this.
Ginny will only ever fall once.
This would make the Weasley’s despise me.
I care about her too much to steal him from her.
The pair came and stopped in front of Ginny, whose pupils dilated when they locked on Harry.
“Ginny Weasley, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Her eyes devoured him hungrily as she dipped into a slight curtsey without even realizing it.
“Who’s this?” Harry asked, his brows furrowed.
“She’s like my sister,” Hermione replied softly. She found it supremely difficult to maintain eye contact with him. It was like his eyes could see through to her soul, to the sinking of her stomach, to the tinge of sadness in her voice and the tears stinging her eyes.
“Thank you for wanting to dedicate yourself to the service,” Ginny continued.
Harry’s eyes searched Hermione’s face with a hint of desperation. She looked at him, unable to put into words the amount of need and heartbreak coursing through her veins.
He tore his eyes away from her to Ginny. “If it takes preparing to fight a war for us to meet, it will be worth it.”
Ginny flushed even more as Harry lifted her hand delicately and brushed his lips against the back of it. “I’ll leave you to it,” Hermione managed to get out. Her lips trembled as she turned her back on the pair and swished away quickly. She wanted to put as much distance between herself and Harry with his stupid eyes and dumb smile and clever brain as possible.
But she couldn’t help herself. She turned and looked directly into his eyes as tears pooled in her own. The nights to come flashed through her mind, blurring her vision; nights alone, nights with other men whose names she couldn’t remember. She would try to forget him during those exchanges, but would end up whispering his name into their shoulders while they were lost in their own pleasure. And worst of all, nights where the tears came too fast after seeing him, where his green eyes haunted her every time she closed her eyes.
At least I keep his eyes in my life.
Hermione whirled back and her stomach lurched angrily. Her hand shook as she picked up her champagne flute. “So to the groom!” she cried.
Harry’s eyes bored into her as the crowd around him raised their glasses in acknowledgement.
“To the bride!”
Harry hadn’t even lifted his glass. The tears that ran down Hermione’s face seemed happy to all except, she knew, to him.
“To your union! And the hope that you provide!”
Harry gripped his fork tightly in his hand, emotions swirling through his stupidly gorgeous eyes, the ones that have haunted her from that first night until now.
“May you always be satisfied!”
Hermione’s voice cracked as the tent applauded and cheered. Harry wouldn’t tear his eyes from Hermione until Ginny gently turned his face and gave him a kiss.
The night seemed like a blur, and suddenly Hermione was watching Harry spin Ginny around the floor of the tent for their first dance. Ginny snuggled her face into his neck as he rotated slowly. Soon, his emerald eyes could stare at Hermione over Ginny’s shoulder. A tear slipped down his cheek as Hermione gave him a sad smile.
He will never be satisfied.
I will never be satisfied.