Molly Weasley stood in her kitchen, feeling as if she’d forgotten something important. It was the day before Bill and Fleur’s wedding, and the entire house was in a frenzy. Fleur had Ginny and Gabrielle in their dresses; they were charmed to change colors so Fleur could see what looked best on them. Bill had his head in the fire, talking to Charlie, and trying to convince him to leave the dragons just for a day. (“You left them for the World Cup!”) Arthur was still held up at work. With over half the Ministry being bombarded with people’s input on the Hogwarts situation; he had to work in several other departments to compensate. Harry was supposed to arrive at seven with Remus and Tonks. The butterbeer and cauldron cakes were to be picked up from the Hog’s Head at one. Molly looked up at the clock, the one with two hands, not nine. It was two-thirty!

Mrs. Weasley rushed over to the fire to tell Bill that she needed to get through; he could continue talking to Charlie after she returned. But before getting the chance, Ginny’s voice came down from the third floor.

“Mum, come up here! Fleur wants your opinion on the dresses.”

Molly sighed. Now who was going to go to Hogsmeade? As she started up the stairs, Ron and Hermione passed her on their way down.

“Hold it!” she called, stopping them at the bottom of the stairs. “What are you two doing?” She had a feeling they really didn’t have much to do. Ron was just a groomsman and Hermione didn’t have a part in the wedding.

“We were just going to get some lunch, Mrs. Weasley. We were going to before, but Fleur wanted to know what color we like best.”

“And what took you so long? I had lunch prepared at noon.”

“She went through every single color, Mum! Every possible shade!”

Molly suppressed a groan. Now she was going to be doing that same thing. “Well then,” she said, walking back down the stairs. “You can get something on the way to pick up our butterbeer and cauldron cakes from the Hog’s Head.” She handed Hermione a slip of paper and four Sickles. “They’re prepaid, so you can spend this all on lunch. Tell Bill to go with you. I don’t want you out alone.”

“Pardon my asking,” Hermione started, “but why the Hog’s Head?”

“It was the cheapest place to have it shipped to,” Mrs. Weasley whispered. “But don’t tell Fleur. She thinks that they were made there.”
***

“Come on, Bill, Mum said-”

“I can’t waste time, Ron, I need to talk to Charlie.”

“But Mum will kill us if we go alone.”

“I have to convince Charlie to come. He’s our best man, and…” Bill trailed off, looking stressed. “I’ll handle Mum.”

***

Ron and Hermione arrived at Hogsmeade through the Three Broomsticks, which was almost completely empty.


“Hey!” The new bartender yelled; Madame Rosmerta had been taken in for questioning after the Ministry found out about Malfoy’s Imperius Curse. “We’re closed on Thursdays!” He then chased them out, brandishing a wet dishtowel.

“Geez,” Ron said, as the bartender locked the door behind them. “You’d think we were robbing him or something.”

“Well, Ron, we were sort of robbing him… of his spare time.”

“It wasn’t his spare time, he was washing glasses. He was still working!”

“Well, maybe he likes to wash glasses. And anyway, Friday is one of their busiest days. That’s the whole reason they’re closed today!”

“Oh, so now you’re looking out for bartenders. What now? The Society for the Preservation of Bartenders’ Time?” He’d meant it as a joke, but it came out with a bitter ring about it.

“I was just saying-” Hermione paused, looking up at Ron. “Why do I even talk to you?” Anger now edged her voice.

“I don’t know; why? It’s not like I need you to!”

“I- Why are you so stupid!?!” She shoved the four Sickles into his hand. “Get your lunch alone,” she said angrily and turned away. “And don’t ever talk to me again!”

Ron just stood there, slightly shocked, watching her stomp down the street, presumably to the Hog’s Head. He looked around, realizing that he had no idea where to go. Ron had every intention of eating lunch, just as Hermione had said, but with the Three Broomsticks closed, the only place he knew of was the Hog’s Head, and no way was he going to risk running in to her. After a few moments, he finally decided to walk around for a while, in the opposite direction that Hermione had gone, and see what he could find.

***

It wasn’t long before he found a small tea shop. Peeking inside, Ron saw it was a rather frilly place, filled with small tables, two chairs placed at each one. There weren’t many customers, only two tables were occupied. Glancing up at the sign, Ron quickly backed away, for there on the top of the window, in large, swirly purple writing, was the name of the shop: Madame Puddifoot’s.

Before he could distance himself for the window, a cheery-looking witch in horrible pale pink robes shuffled out the door, carrying a fluffy white cat.

“Hello, chap!” she said, stroking the cat. “Looking to make a reservation for your girlfriend?”

“Erm, no-”

“It would be a great way to make up with her, you know.” She pushed a strand of light brown hair behind her ear.

“How do you know-?”

“Cuddles here got out, and I caught the end of your little tiff. What was it you were fighting about, anyway?”

Ron opened his mouth to answer, but then realized he didn’t really know. It seemed almost like they had fought over absolutely nothing at all. “Nothing,” he said. “And Hermione is not my girlfriend.”

“Well, now,” the witch smiled, “We’ll have to fix that, won’t we?”

“Hold on, who says I want it fixed? And who are you anyway?”

“Melissa Puddifoot. And you?”

“Ron Weasley. So, you’re Madame Puddifoot?”

“No, no! Of course not! I’m her niece! Auntie Gina plans to retire soon, so I’m training to take over. And as for you’re other question, the fact that you said ‘want it fixed’ tells me that you want it fixed. Other wise, you would’ve said there wasn’t anything to be fixed.”

Ron cursed at himself under his breath.

“So,” Melissa continued. “Tell me a little more about this girl, Hermione, I think you said.”

Ron told her almost everything he could think of that had any significance at all, from the day on the train at the start of first year, to the fight that took place moments ago.

“Well then,” Melissa said, “This shouldn’t be too hard.”

***

Hermione trudged slowly along with the three kegs of butterbeer and two crates of cauldron cakes. How could she be so stupid as to leave her wand on the Weasley’s mantle? Now, she was going to have to try and get to somewhere with a fireplace, without anyone to help her. If only she hadn’t been so short with Ron, then he’d be there, too, and he most likely had his wand.

Pausing her efforts to move everything down the street for a moment, Hermione thought about why they’d even started fighting. She couldn’t come up with a reason, so she resumed trudging down the street. Hermione was rolling the kegs with her feet while carrying the crates, one atop the other. They weren’t small, so she couldn’t see anything in front of her but splintery wood. It was no wonder that she didn’t notice the hole in the road that wasn’t quite large enough for a keg to get stuck in until she’d tripped in it.


***

“What shouldn't be too hard?” Ron asked.

“All of it,” Melissa replied cheerfully. “I don’t need to interfere at all. My only suggestion is to go help her with the butterbeer and cauldron cakes.”

“But what then?”

“I was getting to that. Just bring her back here for lunch.”

“Is this some kind of business scam?”

“No! Maybe. Just slightly. Auntie Gina will get mad if I slack off this long without getting a customer.” Melissa pressed her lips together as if her future depended on Ron coming back.

“Fine, I guess we could, I mean, if Hermione wants to, ‘cause if she doesn’t…”

“She will! She will! Just go help her!”

***

Hermione just laid there for a while. She’d somehow managed to fall over the kegs without the crates landing on her. They now sat beside her, one without a lid. Her ankle hurt fiercely she supposed she’d twisted it when she’d tripped. If only she had her wand, she knew a spell that would heal it. She’d read about it in The Adventurers’ Friend: Cures for Common Injuries.

“Hermione?”

She looked up to find Ron standing a few feet away. “Hi.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yea, just, I think I twisted my ankle, but… do you have your wand?” she asked, sitting up.

“Yep,” he said, pulling it out of his back pocket. “But why-?”

She gingerly took his wand and pointed it at her ankle. “Mendallius.” The pain subsided instantly. She handed the wand back with a small smile.

“Hermione?” Ron said, as she got up.

“Hmm?”

“About earlier, I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too.”

“And, well, I found this little tea shop place, and I was thinking, you know, maybe we could have lunch there, if you wanted to.”

“Sure, But we’ll need to take these.” She indicated the crates and kegs.

“Oh, right. Wingardium Leviosa!” They rose up into the air and followed Ron and Hermione all the way to Madame Puddifoot’s.

“Oh!” Hermione gasped upon seeing the tea shop. “Is this-?”

“Er, yea,” Ron stammered, gently letting the butterbeer and cauldron cakes fall. “Do you still want to eat here? It’s okay if you don’t, I mean-“

“Yes, Ron, I do.” She slipped her hand into his. “I was just… surprised, is all.” She smiled up at him, as he pushed through the door.

Walking in, they were hit with a blast of cool, fruity smelling air.

“Welcome! Welcome! Come sit down, m’ dears,” said a stout black haired woman, who Ron supposed was Madame Puddifoot. He looked around for Melissa, and spotted her behind a doorway marked “Authorized Personnel Only.” She smiled and waved at him. He did the same before turning his attention back to Hermione and Madame Puddifoot, who sat them at a table at the back of the shop. “Would you like today’s midday special? It’s lemon scones with tea.”

“Yes, please,” Hermione said, with a slightly nervous edge to her voice, and Madame Puddifoot trotted off.


Ron could feel color seeping into his face. He looked around. On either side of the table, which was covered with a cream colored cloth, was a glass vase full of dark pink roses. The vases were set ornately with what seemed to be emeralds.

Madame Puddifoot returned with their scones and tea. For awhile, they ate in silence.

“Ron, thank you for bringing me here.”

“No problem,” he said, looking up at her.

“It... it was really sweet of you.”

However much color had seeped into Ron’s face before, at that moment it must have intensified greatly. “Thanks.” He muttered.

After a few minutes they finished and went to leave. Ron left the four Sickles on their table. “Uh, Ron?” Hermione started as he took out his wand to levitate the butterbeer and cauldron cakes.

“Yea?”

“I, well- What I mean is- Er…”

Then, without thinking, Ron leaned down and kissed her gently on the lips. Realizing what he was doing, he abruptly pulled away. Hermione smiled slightly before standing on tip-toe to kiss him deeper.

It was several minutes before they separated.


“We should probably be getting back,” Hermione said, a bit breathlessly.

“Yea, Mum’s probably worried sick about us,” Ron agreed, grinning quite foolishly.

“But wherever are we going to find a fireplace?” she asked, pulling a small box of Floo powder from her pocket.

“There’s one in here,” Melissa called, poking her head out through the door. She led them into the back room, where a red brick fireplace occupied much of the east wall.

***

Molly sat by the fireplace, practically eating her bottom lip. She’d finished with Fleur in just a half-hour by saying that sea blue was the perfect color on both Ginny and Gabrielle. Then, upon seeing Bill and hearing that he had refused to go to Hogsmeade, she given him a good telling off. Another twenty minutes had past since, and Ron and Hermione still weren’t back.

Suddenly, they tumbled out of the fireplace with two crates and three kegs.

“What have you been doing to take this long!?!” she demanded. When she saw their faces flush deep red, she knew exactly what they’d been doing. “Well,” Molly said, getting up from her chair, “Next time you plan to do that while you’re out, warn me! I thought the Death Eaters had gotten you!” She stomped away, secretly rejoicing that there might just be another wedding in her family coming up in the somewhat near future -- this time with a much more sensible bride.