Soft sunlight filtered through an open window and caressed a young woman’s face as she paced back and forth, nervously wringing her hands. Hermione Granger lay down on an old four-poster bed, breathing deeply, her wavy brown hair splayed out on the pale and faded comforter. Lying there in that room felt awkward, she thought to herself. Maybe this was due to the fact that she was wearing a stunning white gown, which contrasted drastically to the old yet well-kept room.



The merry sound of laughter and music drifted into the room through the window; voices were talking and laughing. Hermione stood up again and peeked out the window, down into the courtyard. Her heart gave a lurch as she saw all the people that had decided to attend. She figured she and her fiancé didn’t even know half of them; they were just there because they had been part of the “Famous Trio.� Normally this would have upset her, but at the moment she was too nervous to care much. The guests down below were all chatting animatedly, awaiting the arrival of the guest of honor: the bride. They had been waiting for over half an hour, and Hermione could tell that they were getting anxious. Her eyes drifted over the scene, and fell on a man with fiery red hair walking up the aisle towards his position at the front of the congregation. Even from her room she could almost hear his nervous muttering; for she had nervous thoughts too. Who didn’t on their wedding day?



Hermione turned her face back to glance around the room once more; the room that had been hers since she was a small girl. The room had been where she had first read her Hogwarts letter; where she had first kissed her true love; where she had spent days weeping at the thought of never seeing her best friend again. Hermione shut her eyes as she replayed these times in her mind. Yes, the room had played a part in many memories which she now treasured so dearly. She sighed, as she realized this was the last day she would spend in it.



Hermione kept asking herself over and over again if they were ready for this huge commitment. She was young; too young, most usually say, to be getting married. But though her face was young, her mind was etched with wisdom, and her heart weathered with the pain of loss and suffering. Time had changed many things. Yes, she was most definitely wise beyond her years. After all, she was the brightest witch of her age; or so they told her, anyways.



So why was she having so much trouble with this decision? The Hermione in her heart was telling her that it was the right one, but the Hermione in her head was weaving a different story, trying to convince her of the many ways it could go horribly wrong. Her heart told her that these were lies; but her mind listened to them willingly. What her head told her made sense - how could a witch and a wizard, barely out of school, be prepared to take on a challenge as daunting as marriage?

Hermione sighed with exasperation; how was one to possibly choose whether to follow one’s head or one’s heart? She opened her eyes, and as she gazed around the room, her eyes fell upon a note sitting on the old, antique desk. In all the excitement of the day, she hadn’t noticed it before. Her brow furrowed in confusion; where had it come from? She stood up and strode over to the desk. Before she knew what she was doing, she was picking up the note and opening it. She had always been a little too curious when it came to learning something new – and she wanted to learn what was in that letter.



She glanced back out the window, and decided she could make her guests wait – a little while longer, anyways. She unfolded the note, and smiled to herself when she saw the untidy scrawl written upon the parchment. She sat down on her bed once more, and began to read.



Dear Hermione,



Wow. I can’t believe this day is finally here.



I wanted to see you; to talk to you before the big moment. But, seeing as I can’t(bloody Muggle tradition!), I guess this will have to do.



We’ve had more than our fair share of fights, Hermione. Looking back now they seem so childish, so trivial; why did we ever used to fight, anyway? I remember I always tried to pin the blame on you; but maybe I was just being an immature git(I think it’s probably the latter). I’m so sorry for all of it, Hermione. I was just a kid back then, and had no idea what I was doing. I’ve tried to grow up for you – I hope it’s worked.



I think sometimes Harry grew rather tired of trying to bridge the distance between us. It hurts me to think of what we made him go through, screaming and fighting with each other; it can’t have been fun. I’m glad he kept it up, though – look where it’s brought us.



I know that Harry is really proud of us for working it out. I think he knew we would finally get there in the end – we just needed a little push. I know he’s with us here today; I can feel him, even if he isn’t here physically. I know you miss him, Hermione. I do, too. We all do.



I expect that all of our guests are getting anxious by now, love. So come down, so I can make you my wife. (My wife! I love saying that)



All my love,

Ron



Hermione hastily wiped a few tears from her face; oh, how she loved him. It was true - he had grown up. The Horcrux hunt and Harry’s death had forced him to. She knew that her fiancé blamed himself for their best friend’s death. Hermione closed her eyes as the scenes of that night flashed before her. Voldemort’s broken body falling to the ground. A triumphant victor sinking to his knees. An injured enemy, sneaking up from behind. A strangled yell of warning which she vaguely remembered coming from Ron. Ron trying to run to Harry… a scream had pierced the night, a flash of green blinded their eyes, and they had known without looking that the hero of the wizarding world, their best friend, was dead.



She could see the pain in his face whenever Harry was mentioned, and she knew how much he was hurting inside. For Hermione felt the same pain: the pain of losing a best friend. But she hoped that after this day, they would be able to get through the pain together.



Someone knocked softly at the door, and Hermione was roused from her reverie as a pretty young girl came into the room. Her fiery hair was just like Ron’s, but hers long and silky. A long scar now lined the side of her face, a gruesome reminder of the war. Hermione, however, decided that it did nothing to detract from the girl’s beauty. She looked radiant in her bridesmaid dress of palest gold, her face joyful and alive. She hadn’t smiled much since Harry’s death, so this sight was a rather rare occurrence. ‘It’s nice to see some life back in her eyes,’ Hermione thought as she watched the girl walk towards her. She knew, however, that her friend would never be the same, and that there would always be a part of her missing. ‘It isn’t fair,’ Hermione thought bitterly. All the lives that had been torn apart by Voldemort. She knew now, though, that they were safe. Harry had saved them all.



‘Thank you, Harry.’ She felt the words rise up in her like a song, as she silently thanked her best friend for giving her and Ron and everyone else the most beautiful gift anyone could ask for: a chance at a new life.

The girl crossed the room, gazing at Hermione in her beautiful white dress. She smiled at her, and gestured for her to take her hand.



“Come on Hermione – it’s time.�



Hermione took the young girl’s hand, and they slowly made their way downstairs and out into the bright sunlight. They meandered down a winding dirt path, which led down to a small courtyard behind Hermione’s home. Suddenly, Hermione stopped in her tracks. Ginny turned around, putting her hands on her hips in a manner much like her mother.



“Hermione – what’s wrong?�



“Ginny, am I ready for this?� Hermione asked, her voice shaking slightly. She glanced at Ginny, her lip quivering. “Are we ready for this? I mean, what if this is all just one huge mistake?�



Ginny looked at Hermione and sighed.

“Of course you’re ready,� she replied matter-of-factly. “You and Ron have been ready to be together since fourth year, for heaven’s sake. You just needed a little push in the right direction.� She grinned at Hermione, who let out a small giggle. This seemed to satisfy Ginny, so they continued walking.



After a few more minutes of ambling they arrived in the courtyard, where hundreds of guests were seated, fidgeting anxiously. Hermione felt rather guilty at having made them wait so long; but only a little.



The wedding procession began, and Hermione watched as Ginny and the other bridesmaids processed up the aisle. She felt a presence arrive next to her, and looked over to see a tall, balding man with kind eyes gazing down at her.



“Are you ready, pumpkin?�

Hermione tried to fight back her tears.

“I think so, Daddy.�



Mr. Granger bent down and kissed her forehead, and then took her arm in his. The congregation rose as she walked slowly down the aisle. She was sure that many of her old Hogwarts friends were there, but she didn’t notice them; Hermione had eyes only for the man standing, waiting for her at the end of the aisle. He looked just as nervous as she felt, and she chuckled to herself.



They reached the end of the aisle, and her father kissed her once more. Hermione then took a step forward and joined hands with Ron, who leaned in and whispered in her ear, “You look beautiful, love. Are you ready?�



Hermione smiled, and nodded as her heart filled with emotion for the man standing beside her; her best friend, her confidant, her soulmate. Her heart had been telling her all along the answer to his question – and now she finally knew.

She was ready.