Disclaimer: does this look like a very Pro!Ginny story?




Summary: Manipulative. Coercive. Sly. And yet, they all loved her, they were so blind—couldn't see that every word from her mouth was a perfectly calculated move to gain control over them. part 3 in the Kismet Series; can be read alone


God, everything about their marriage was doomed from the start; I don't even understand why they can't see it already. It's as if they're denying the inevitable; every sign points to the dissolution of this faux, little, blasphemous "marriage" that they partook in.

I mean everything about it is just so wrong. Bloody hell, they even took pictures together while they were engaged; everyone knows that that's the perfect way to ensure that your marriage won't end well, so why go on pretending? Why prolong the pain of it?

It's just so pointless.

"Why are you sighing?" a rather annoyingly chipper voice asks me as I fix a tendril before placing the veil upon my head as I study my face in the mirror. I have to admit that I really do look flawless.

"Nothing, Hermione," is my terse response as I try to muster some warmth in my tone while I speak to the bitch that took Harry from me with her calculated and perfectly executed lies.

She smiles at me as she tugs at her bride's maid dress. "Well don't scrunch up your face like that then. You're getting married today, Gin, so turn that smile upside down!" she tuts me with a bright smile that I can't help but cock a condescending eyebrow at. Really, she just makes it too easy.

She's so talented at it, though, that much I'll admit; compelling people to do whatever it is that she wants without them even realizing the slightest fault in it all. She brainwashed Harry, blinded him to all else—all logic and reasoning, making him absolutely ignorant as to what was really meant to be. All of her lies, all of her actions, all of her exploitation is sacrilege and I just pray that one day she'll be struck down by a lightening bolt for having toyed with the fates as she did.

We need to be done with people like her anyway.

She does it all in so many different situations, never able to allow people to have what they want, for once. Even with their first son she couldn't let go of that unparallel and evil need to control everything around her so it fits to all of her perfect, little expectations.

He merely wanted to name his child Albus Severus and she said "no", can you imagine such a thing? I mean even when he was trying to do something honorable by trying to pay homage to his former mentors she bluntly told him that it was the "sweetest and most horrific" name she had ever heard and that she would never subject her child to such a fate. The bloody bint has no respect for him; he deserves so much more than a woman that would coerce him into naming his son something other than what he wants.

She's just so demanding, forcing him to change his ideals so that they'll fit her perfect, little picture of what life should be like—it's fake, it's unreal. She doesn't see him, not really, not like I do.

She can't see that he's perfect: he's loyal, brave, strong, famous, rich—everything that any woman could ever want. No, to her he's still faulty, "a narcissistic little pillock" she calls him whenever he does something that she'd classify as showing off. She even puts on this teasing voice that I can clearly see is just another front—but no one else does, blind fools.

She can't see that he's deserving of the praise. Instead, she breaks him down, makes him think that he isn't worthy of anyone else but her. She turns him into a meek and weak little man—a shell of who he once was—who is too afraid to look anywhere else for fear that he'll be rejected.

She's breaking him.

"Bloody hell, Ginny, you're getting married today, to Neville Longbottom no less—you should be happy, on pins and needles as you await that moment where you get to walk down the aisle and marry the love of your life. It's magical, Gin, live it up while you can," Hermione berates me good-naturedly, obviously trying to delude me into thinking that she cares for me, make me forget that she stole the love of my life.

Besides, honestly, as if Neville Longbottom could ever sate my needs! For Christ's sake, he's the bloody Boy-Who-Wasn't, the "maybe?… no," the reject. As if someone so worthlessly second place could ever fulfill my desires, truly satisfy me. Why the mere idea is so utterly preposterous that I can't help but laugh at the prospect. Pathetic, really.

Although, I can't deny that I'm excited about the moment that I do walk down that aisle today. In fact, I am on "pins and needles," I can just imagine what will happen—these past eight months of perfectly calculated planning will finally pay off. When I walk down that pathway he'll see me, see how amazingly beautiful I am, how good I am, how perfect I am—and how unbelievably lacking and malicious his "wife" is.

When I walk down that aisle I know he'll object; I know he'll just realize it, see it. I know that despite the fact that we may let society down by the unorthodox manner of revealing our love, he—we won't care because, honestly, who wants to let the universe down for the sake of satisfying the protocols of society?

After all, who are we to argue with fate? Who are we to commit blasphemy by ignoring what is so clearly in the stars?

We're kismet, and that's why it'll all fall into place in the end. I know it.


author's note: so I was working on an HHr one-shot that I've been trying to sort out for ages when I was suddenly hit by this idea, totally shocked me too as I wasn't expecting another part—or a "trequal" I guess. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it.

p.s. guess what Harry did when she walked down the aisle? ;)