The Best Mistake

Chapter One | The Night of the Wedding (Part 1)

There was a time when Hermione Granger fancied herself getting married in the back garden of the Burrow. She'd have been the perfect blushing bride, surrounded by red-haired family members smiling sweetly at herself and the lanky red-headed groom as they swung around the dance floor.

There was a time when Hermione envisioned herself in a modest white dress, tearfully delivering vows with promises of forever while Molly Weasley wailed and Harry clutched Ron's shoulder in an offerance of strength. Ron's bright blue eyes would mist over at her words and his lips would tremble.

There was a time when Hermione believed that Ron Weasley's wedding would be hers as well, but that time was well and gone in the past.

Today, all of Hermione's past fantasies about the day had come true, only she was not the bride. Ron Weasley had married Pansy Parkinson, of all people.

A crack announced her arrival as she apparated to the spot designated on the invitation, just outside the Burrow. Hermione cast a warming charm over her coatless body, adjusted her silky red dress as it cascaded down her body, clinging tightly to her curves, and falling like water to the ground. As she passed through the garden's snow-covered back gate, she sucked in a deep breath of frigid air.

The late December wind whipped at her hair, doing her no favors. It had taken hours to tame her wild tawny curls into submission for this occasion, and she could feel curls coming loose and flapping in the breeze around her face.

Hermione joined the short receiving line, all smiles despite the rock in her stomach, as she waited her turn to greet the bridal party and parents of the groom.

Neville Longbottom was first. She hugged him tightly and promised to catch up with him later before moving onto George, whose eyes flashed with glassy mischief when he spotted her, and he whistled as they trailed over her.

"Don't we clean up nicely. Come to show your idiot ex what he's missing, have you?" George wagged his finger. "Very naughty, Hermione."

"Drunk as a skunk already, George Weasley. You should be ashamed of yourself," she chastised playfully, as he pulled her into a bone-crushing hug.

He grinned down at her with that cheeky smile he only used when well and truly pissed. "Oi! I didn't ask to be a groomsman, and I have to say, it's more boring than a Binns lecture. Pansy made us take photos for three hours after the ceremony. What's a fellow to do but have a drink or two?"

"Two, George?" Hermione asked, stepping back and searching his face.

"Oh, come off it, Hermione. I know you, and you're going to go straight to the bar when you get in there."

He wasn't wrong; she did plan on going straight to the bar, and he did know her. Despite their more antagonistic relationship throughout school, with Hermione being a prefect and what George considered a know-it-all rule follower, they had a relationship based on forced proximity and shared goals but not true friendship.

However, since Hermione had discovered that she'd lost her parents for good, she and George had struck up a friendship through late-night drinks and shared grief. With George's loss of his twin brother Fred at The Battle of Hogwarts and Hermione's parents' deaths after their car accident in Australia, they shared the sort of deep, soul-searing mourning that only happens when one loses the person or people who matter most to them in this world.

Hermione gave George a sad smile and looked around. "Where's the best man?"

"Harry, Gin, and James went inside already. James was less thrilled than me about the photos, and he's done with standing still."

Hermione laughed. "I'll bet he was."

Molly stopped her next and held her at arm's length. She clucked her tongue and gave Hermione a warm smile. "It's so good to see you, Hermione, dear, but you look so thin! How have you been, dear? You've not come to dinner in ages. Have you been taking care of yourself?"