Still Waiting

It was the most wonderful day of the year. The sun seemed to be exploding in the sky, great and fiery, dropping shards of light onto the world below. The sky was clear, crisp and beautiful; it seemed so big- and it was. The sweet smell of summer hung in the heavy air, swirling into the noses of anyone around, and filtering into the open door of a big stone cathedral.

Inside the cathedral the sun shone through the stain glass windows and onto the floor below, forming delicate colour patterns of light on the ground. There was a buzz of excitement inside that large room. The sound of happy chatter spilled from the smiling mouths of the people, bounced of the old stone walls and up into the arch of the roof. It was a happy day.

Row after row of pews were filled, so packed in fact that people were standing, bunched together in the back of the Cathedral. People were dressed in their nicest summer clothes, pretty hats with flowers, little handbags, pressed pants and suit jackets. They were, of course, at a wedding.

This was a wedding, yes, but it was a special wedding. Outside of the cathedral reporters were perched, cameras ready to snap a shot of the new couple the moment they stepped out of the doorway. A dark haired girl stood at the front door, handing out crisp papers to people. The very front of the paper told the very reason why this wedding was so special:

Thank you for attending the joining of

Emillya Isabelle Hunter
To
Thomas Andrew Felton

Yes, Thomas Felton, also known as Tom Felton, Draco Malfoy and object of thousands of girls’ affection alike. And there he was, at the end of the aisle, palms sweating and heart pounding, waiting for the only girls affection he had ever wanted to walk down the aisle.

Tom jammed his hands into the pockets of his black pants, wiping them off. He was having a hard time breathing, and he had no idea why. He wanted to this! He wanted this more than anything he’d ever wanted; more than acting or fishing or anything. And now he was getting it, getting her.

As soon as he thought that he couldn’t wait any longer, the old wrinkled woman on the giant pipe organ began to play. The sound vibrated through the ancient floors, and the crowd went quiet. In a giant wave, the entire room stood up and faced the doorway. This was it.

Music echoed off the walls and a little girl stepped out slowly, remembering where to step and how quickly. Her little face grinned as she dipped her hand into the basket containing silky flower petals and tossed them out into the aisle before her. She grinned angelically at Tom, her favourite uncle, and Tom smiled at her. She was a good kid, and even though he was only 17 he knew he could have some kids running around soon. Now that he was getting married, of course.

Emillya’s stream of bridesmaids entered next, all clad in matching dresses, each one smiling brightly. They all knew it was the perfect day for the perfect couple. As the girls lined up opposite the men, the song changed.

‘Here Comes the Bride’ reverberated off of the walls at a steady march. And then, looking like an angel, Emillya stepped into the room. She was glowing with happiness- everyone could see it. She had on a strapless gown, simple and clean. There was nothing fancy about it because she didn’t need it. She was that beautiful. Her hair spilled like golden honey in ringlets down her milky shoulders. The white veil covering her face looked like a cloudy haze, but it couldn’t hide her face, nor the happiness in her eyes. She clutched a bouquet of flowers in her hands, and as she moved down the aisle, she gave the illusion that she was floating.

As soon as Tom saw her, his breath caught. He could never understand why men cried at their weddings until that moment. His pure love for her overwhelmed him, sucking his body into it deeper and further until he knew he would drown in it- and he didn’t care. She looked and moved like an angel, and he didn’t know whether it was because he loved her or not, but he was sure she was the most perfect girl in the world.

When Emillya saw Tom’s face she couldn’t help but let a tear fall from her eyes. He wasn’t smiling, but the look he had on his face was better than any smile she could have ever seen. She felt as if it was only the two of them in, not only the room, but the entire world. Tom and Emillya, Emillya and Tom. Meant for each other and only each other.

As the last chords of the song rang out, Emillya reached Tom. She could see the makings of tears glistening in his eyes. The priest stood at the front of the room, and in a booming voice, began the ceremony.

Emillya and Tom looked at each other. They could read the others face and know what the other was thinking.

“I love you” Tom mouthed silently.

“I love you too,” Emillya mouthed back.

People in the crowd sniffled. It was a beautiful ceremony, perfect, even. The ceremony went on, friends sang songs and passages read. Soon it was nearing the end, and each took the hands of the other.

“Do you, Emillya Isabelle Hunter, take Thomas Andrew Felton as your lawfully wedded husband?” the priest asked.

Emillya could feel Tom’s hands shaking in hers. She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze and grinned, “I do.”

Tom smiled back at her. “Do you, Thomas Andrew Felton, take Emillya Isabelle Hunter as your lawfully wedded wife?”

Tom looked deep into Emillya’s eyes. “I d-” He was cut off by the slamming of the door to the cathedral.

“Where the hell is he?!” a voice bellowed throughout the room. Every head in the room turned to see a tall sturdy looking man. His dark hair was messy and stubble graced his face. He was wearing a dirty leather jacket and faded black jeans. He looked very out of place amidst the well dressed people. People didn’t really notice his clothes, however. They more so noticed the shiny gun in his hand.

Tom’s eyes widened. “OY! Felton!” the man grumbled, marching down the aisle. No one moved to stop him, they were all too shocked. “Hurt my sister, will you?” he cried in a husky voice. He swaggered a few feet closer. It seemed as if he had been drinking, but no amount of drinks could cover up the crazy glint in his eye.

No one spoke. The only sound heard was the heavy breathing of the strange man and the occasional whimper from someone in the rows of pews. No one knew what to do.

Emillya and Tom were still clutching hands together. It was now Tom’s turn to feel her shake. He ran his thumb over her hand protectively, and stepped partly in front of her, shielding her body with his own.

“You missed out on a good thing you know. A damn good thing! Instead you chose this…this” his words were slurred together, “this WHORE!”

A few shocked gasps were heard from the audience, if you could call it that. The only problem was that this wasn’t a play or movie that you could watch and then get up and walk away from. This was life.

The man broke down. He began to cry, “You don’t know what it’s like! I want to give her everything, and all she wants is YOU. And you want HER!” he waved the gun towards Emillya and she jolted.

“Can we talk about this reasonably?” Tom asked softly, putting a hand up in defense.

“I tried to reason with you before, and now look! You’re getting fucking married for Christ’s sakes! How is THAT for reasoning? No. There’s no time left for reasoning. There’s only one thing left…” he lifted his arm up and cocked the gun. As if in slow motion, he pulled the trigger, and for a second no one knew where it went.

No one, that is, except Tom. The pain exploded in his stomach all at once. Wide eyed he looked down at his stomach. A dark red patch had grown on his white shirt. He let Emillya’s hand slip from his own, and clutched at his stomach, pain searing like embers from the wound. With a groan, he dropped onto his knees.

“TOM!” Emillya cried out. She too dropped to her knees beside him. His face was contorted with pain and he gasped for a breath. Emillya wrapped her arms around his body, and he slid into her lap. Her once pure with dress was splotched and decorated with the dark red of his blood. She could feel his pain.

The blood was spilling from out of his hands as he clutched his stomach. She put a shaky hand on top of his and felt the warm blood spill from his wounded body. It was like his life was leaving him.

“Someone get help!” she pleaded. Still, no one was moving. “Please somebody do something!” she cried out to no one.

She pilled her veil from off her head and pressed it on his stomach, trying to stop the precious life from leaving his body, but she couldn’t do it. She could feel him shaking in her arms.

He coughed, trying to speak. Tears spilled down Emillya’s face. “Don’t speak, baby. Save your breath. Tell me later.” She told him. She wiped her bloody hands off onto her skirt and looked down at the man she loved. She couldn’t take it. Why wasn’t anyone helping?!

“…Emillya…” he gasped to her. She placed a hand on his cheek.

“Yes baby?” she answered, smiling at him, hoping he wouldn’t notice the streams of tears on her face.

“…I’m sorry” he said to her. He coughed again. He must have been in so much pain.

“Sorry for what? You have nothing to be sorry about!” she laughed, but it sounded strange. Not like laughter at all.

“I’m sorry…sorry we’ll never get…” he gasped again, “married.”

Emillya let out a wracking sob, and leaned down to him. She pressed her lips against his forehead, “We will Tom. We will,” she whispered. “You’ll be ok. I know you will! You have to be! You have to! One day you will put that ring on my finger!” she sobbed.

“I love you Emillya,” he whispered. With a last burst of strength he pressed his lips against hers.

“No Tom! Please…don’t go! You’ll be ok…you have to be…” she sobbed into his hair. “You have to be…”

“I’ll wait for you…Emillya” he gasped, and then he was gone. His body went limp in her arms, and his hands fell from the wound in his stomach.

“No! Please! Tom!” She pounded a fist on his chest and cried out “somebody please help me! Somebody…please…” she pressed her face into his hair and rocked his still warm body back and forth, sobbing quietly.

“I love you,” she whispered, and then, turning her face to the arches above her, “I love you, Tom!” she cried.