Spreading The Joy

"I can't believe our little brother's getting married!" Fred cooed, leaning forward and pinching Ron's cheeks too quickly for him to escape.

Ron had been sitting peacefully on a chair in the living room of The Burrow, a smattering of parchment scattered all around him, black ink running down his chin where he had absentmindedly rested his quill. Until the twins had made their presence known, that was, rather loudly and boisterously as was their custom.

"Gerroff!" Ron said gruffly, batting his brother’s arm away. “It’s not for another fortnight, give it rest!�

“Well, whilst Mum’s away, we thought someone ought to do it!� George added, snatching a piece of parchment out of Ron’s hands. “Some Keeper you are!� he laughed, as Ron jumped up, waving the parchment to his side before balling it up and throwing it to Fred. Ron groaned at his misfortune - being stuck in the house with only the twins for company wasn't his idea of the serene setting he needed to finalise wedding details.

“What is this? A list of all the girls who turned you down before one was finally tricked into saying yes? Hey George - guess who’s name is circled? Several times!� Ron emitted a noise that sounded almost like a growl as he launched himself at his brother.

“Actually,� he panted, holding the now rather tattered parchment above his head victoriously, “it’s the guest list. Those are the people we haven’t contacted or had replies from yet. I’ve got to finish these and send them out.� The twins exchanged glances, their eyebrows raised.

“And this was left to you? How did the bride-to-be and the mother-of-the-groom overlook this most important detail?�

“And the best man and maid of honour? What about the flower girls and the band? Surely any of them would have been better at this than you!�


Ron didn’t reply as he stalked out of the door and up to his old bedroom. He tried to settle down in the mess that was his room, and did his best to ignore the sneaking suspicion that the twins might have been right.

---

"Harry!" Ron called loudly, banging repeatedly on old fashioned brass knocker after Apparating outside his friend's house. "Harry! Let me in!" He knocked viciously three more times before the door flew open in his face.

"What the-� were Harry’s first words on seeing the slightly dishevelled appearance of his friend, before Ron barged past him and into the kitchen.
“Nice to see you too mate!� he said, with a shake of his head and a smile as he shut what remained of the door after Ron’s rampage, and returned to the kitchen.

“This is hell - pure hell! I only just escaped! As if wedding preparations weren’t enough mayhem for me to deal with, I get left with the twins on my last day to sort out all the stuff I was meant to have done months ago! Harry - never, ever get married. Again, that is," Ron added as he poured himself a drink and recalled Harry's original wedding a few years ago. "Because if you leave my sister - and my niece, come to that - I will personally rearrange your face. But I won’t kill you then, as it would be much more fun to see the stress of planning your next wedding kill you. So either way, you’ll be disfigured and dead. So, just don‘t do it! Okay?� Harry laughed as his friend babbled on, saying something about lists and a white dress (or maybe fists and fight stress).

“Ron, you do know it's less than two weeks until the wedding, don't you? Shouldn't everything have been sorted by now?" Harry asked, bemused, as he watched Ron pour two teaspoonfuls of salt into his mug, and wondered whether he should tell his friend that it wasn't sugar. Ron only looked worse at those words, a hangdog expression on his face as he nodded dismally. "Why don’t you just leave it to the girls? That’s what I did - seemed to work, with only a bit of nagging now and then! Come on, it can’t be that bad!� Harry regretted that last sentence barely a minute after saying it.

“Great - so if it’s not that bad, you won’t mind helping, then!� Ron beamed, taking a large bite out the piece of toast that had been on Harry’s plate. “Come on, you are my best man!" he pleaded, before gagging after taking a large sip of his tea - after his toast had been stolen, Harry had elected to let Ron find out for himself what he had put in it. "It’s only for today; the girls are all out shopping for a wedding dress. I really owe you one," Ron sighed with relief as Harry reluctantly nodded. "I just need your help finding a few people, that’s all. And remember - ‘it can’t be that bad’, right?�

---

"Harry!" Harry found himself engulfed in hair as Hermione threw her arms around him. "I haven't seen you in so long! How are you? How are Ginny and Cathy?" She stepped back and allowed him room to breathe. He stepped out of the fireplace and brushed himself off, much to Hermione's displeasure as she pointed her wand at the soot flying about her otherwise neat living room.

"I'm fine, Ginny's great, Cathy's loud - always when we want to get some sleep, I‘ve noticed! Life's...hectic! How about you? What've you been doing since last time I saw you? Merlin, it must have been a few months ago now." Harry sat down on the edge of Hermione's sofa, leaning forward to help himself to the snacks Hermione conjured up. Harry and Hermione saw each other fairly frequently, but since Hermione had had to move further away after her promotion at work they didn’t see each other as much as they had done when they were growing up.

"Oh, not much. Work's good, I just got a really great..." Harry allowed his mind to wander as he shuffled the papers in his hands uncomfortably, not really paying attention to Hermione's anecdotes. "So...how's Ron?" she asked tentatively, though brushing her hair back fiercely behind her ears as she looked up.

With either Ron or Hermione, the other was a subject mostly avoided. On the rare occasion it was brought up, both would try to deviate as quickly as possible.

"Nothing happened, things just didn't work out," Hermione would say. "We were just kids, it was puppy love. We just grew apart over the years. That's all. Not everyone stays together forever, especially not so young. We're still friends... So, the weather's been really awful lately, hasn't it?"

"It just fell apart. We were only young, some people wait their whole lives before finding the one they're meant to be with - I didn't expect to find them at eleven! Or, well, fourteen or fifteen. Well, sixteen really. But anyway, that's not important! It just didn't happen; we just took a break, then never really got back together. That's all. So, who wants another Chocolate Frog?" Ron would hasten to digress.

And so Harry felt that explaining this was not going to be the easiest of things; and going way past the call of duty as best man. Ron owed him a lot more than one.

"He's...good." Harry wasn't quite sure what to say to play down the news, and so headed straight to the point. "Actually, that's what I wanted to talk to you about," He admitted, seriously considering ducking just in case anything was close to hand, but Hermione only gave him a look.

"Harry, you know I was only asking to be polite!" She gave a small laugh. "What could you possibly want to say to me about Ron? I barely even see him anymore... Is everything okay?"

Harry could hear the sudden worry in her words; he could hear her voice rise a few decibels, see her lean forward in her seat a little, suddenly alert to everything - he could sense the change in the air.

He looked away uncomfortably, before he could notice any more signs that would make him feel even worse about giving the news. "Yes, everything's... Ron's getting married," he blurted out, his Seeker reflexes at the ready to catch any flying objects that might be launched at him, just in case. He hadn’t forgotten the birds.

As soon as it seemed safe to move, he released his numerous folders and pieces of parchment on the table, extracting one and handing it to Hermione. "Ron had a bit too much on his hands, so he asked me to help out with invitations and who could make it and seating and stuff, and you just happened to be on the list he gave me to sort out, and... are you okay, Hermione?"

"I... Yes. I'm fine. Wow. Uh - wow. That's... great! Who - who to?" Hermione stuttered, blinking rapidly. She was sitting right on the edge of her chair uncomfortably, as if the physical pain might somehow numb another type of one.

"Just a girl. Woman, actually! You don't know her. Tiffany, her name is.� Harry stood up, shuffling his feet awkwardly. He had to admit, Hermione was taking this better than he had expected; she was even smiling now. Not that there was any resentment between the two. Hermione and Ron always got on exceptionally whenever they were together - they just weren’t together very often. They had both been very supportive of each other; Ron had been at Hermione’s promotion party, Hermione had been over for Ron’s birthday and had even stayed over after a particularly bad split from his girlfriend of the time. But still, Harry had expected a bit more of a reaction from Hermione. After all, when Hermione had seen Ron kissing Lavender she had set a flock of birds on him. Now he was getting married and all she could do was smile? Well, Harry supposed, a lot’s changed since school. I guess we all grew up a bit.

“What’s she like?� he heard Hermione ask.

“Nice,� Harry shrugged. “Blonde, a bit on the short side. She works in Twilfit and Tatting’s, the robes shop? Anyway, she’s nice... You’ll see her at the wedding though, won’t you? I know it's a bit short notice - but you will be there, won't you?�

Hermione looked from Harry, to the invitation, then back to Harry again. “I - yes. I suppose so.� Harry let out a sigh of relief.

“Great. Well, I have to go, like I said, Ron’s way behind on stuff, so guess who has to help out? If only I’d kept my stupid mouth shut, eh? Well, see you later, Hermione,� Harry garbled, then quickly leaned over to give her a one armed hug and made his way out before she could change her mind.

Hermione sighed, allowing her grin to slip as Harry’s robes flashed behind her, but it was only after he’d fully disappeared that she fell back flat onto the sofa, a small gasp escaping her, her eyes wider than she’d ever thought they could be.

Quick Reactions

“Well, that’s done, finally!� Ron announced happily, leaning back against the cool metal of the kitchen chair with a Butterbeer. “How’d yours go? I had to deal with sobbing aunties, random guys trying to hex me when they got completely the wrong idea as soon as I mentioned ‘wedding’, and force-fed brownies, freshly baked from the oven!�

“Well, as you may or may not have noticed, I had to go and see all of your ex-girlfriends!� Ron gave him a sheepish grin as he refilled Harry’s glass. “Lavender was, unsurprisingly, busy, Megan’s boyfriend told me ‘no chance’, Kerry burst into tears on the spot, but Natalie and Hermione are coming.� Ron’s head snapped up at the last name, nearly spilling his drink, which teetered on the edge of the table where Ron had abandoned it until Harry steadied it with his wand.

“Oh yeah? What did she - er, they - say?� Ron was trying to appear casual, but failing rather miserably.

“Well, Natalie said congratulations, is she allowed to bring a guest? Hermione said congratulations as well, and what a coincidence, she was meaning to invite us to a wedding too. You remember Viktor?� Harry asked, with a wide grin that Ron conveniently missed. Harry couldn't help but feel a little mean, but he also felt Ron deserved it after all Harry had had to go through that day - whilst Ron had been fed brownies, Harry had been forced to make a swift escape from a rather accurate string of them being aimed at his head after he had offered Kerry a tissue.

“What? Viktor Krum? Of course Krum, ‘how many other Viktor’s do we know?’� Ron mimicked in a high pitched voice that Harry presumed to be an impression of Hermione. “Why is she back with that bloody Vicky? He can’t have changed that much, bet he’s still a slimy git... What else did she say? How long have they been together? When’s the wedding? How many kids are they going to have? Hope he’s broken his nose again... Too old to be playing Quidditch, what an idiot! Too old for her for that matter...� Harry let Ron carry on for a few more minutes; he was far too amused to put Ron out of his misery so soon. I guess Ron’s never going to change that much, he thought, before deciding to end his friend’s suffering.

“Ron, I was joking!" Harry admitted, interrupting Ron's one hundred and one reasons Krum was a danger to national security and so should be forced to leave the country immediately - and being so well respected in the Auror community wasn't Harry the perfect person to enforce it? "She’s not marrying anyone, let alone Krum! I don’t think she’s even seeing anyone at the moment, but I could be wrong. Not that you should care anyway, you’re getting married in a fortnight!�

Ron laughed with relief as he took another large swig of Butterbeer. “Don’t even go there! It’s just...Krum! I don’t like him! You know how it is, Harry. Come on, wasn't I fine when Hermione was engaged to that Daniel?� he pointed out fairly.

“Yeah, you were,� Harry agreed before switching tack to more pressing matters, such as the wedding, which seemed to be moving towards them at an unnaturally quick pace.

---

Hermione poured herself another glass of Butterbeer as she turned a page of ‘National Numerology’ absentmindedly. She braved a glance at the invitation still lying untouched on the table. Instead of sticking it to the fridge as she would usually do with events, memos or postcards, she had simply placed everything else around it on the table. Although the date on the invitation never changed, it was still edging closer all the time, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

---

“I’m so glad you decided to stop by, dear, even if it is only for a few hours.� Mrs. Weasley smiled as Hermione bit into her baked potato.

“Well, I told Harry I’d come out to this party thing with him and Ginny and some other people going to the wedding, and I hadn't seen you all in so long...� she explained, helping herself to some salad.

“Oh, I know, it’s been far too long! But everyone seems so busy these days! To be honest, I’m quite glad of this party tonight; it gives me a chance to look after Cathy for the night. Have you seen her recently, Hermione? She’s gotten so big now!� Molly Weasley happily began to relate her latest news and gossip about what her granddaughter had been up to, Bill and Fleur, and the twins' most recent antics (amongst others) as she cleaned up the constant mess that seemed to surround the busyness of The Burrow Hermione loved so much, and she just leaned forward and listened until an interruption came.

“Hermione!� This had been the third interruption of the afternoon, the first being an unexplained explosion from upstairs (normally fairly mundane, only the twins had moved out completely a few years ago, and they weren’t visiting that day...), the second being an invasion of gnomes looking for cauliflower, and the third being that very interruption: Ron.

Ron was currently battling the familiar internal battle of whether or not to hug Hermione, causing him to take half a step forward and stumble on it. He swore inwardly, reminding himself that he wasn't at school anymore, they'd both grown up, a lot of things had happened since then; that it really wasn't necessary. “What are you doing here?�

“Nice to see you too!� Hermione replied, raising her eyebrows as his mother swatted at him.

“Not that it’s not a good thing!� Ron corrected himself swiftly. “I just wondered why - we weren’t expecting you, were we?� he asked his mother.

“Well, we weren’t, seeing as you don’t live here anymore!� Molly Weasley noted. “Although I do seem to find a fair bit of your washing ends up here somehow... Anyway, I was expecting Hermione, she owled yesterday.� With that and a smile, Mrs. Weasley left to go and rescue dinner for that evening.

“Harry invited me to a party of some sort, something to do with the wedding?" Hermione shrugged, taking a last sip of water from her glass before waving it over to the sink with her wand, and continuing her explanation. "He didn’t mention that you were going, so I presumed you were busy and didn’t bother to owl you. Harry said something about decorations?�

Ron squirmed slightly, and Hermione realised that she might have come off a bit more frosty than she had intended.

“Yeah, well, me and Tiffany were -�

“Tiffany and I,� Hermione corrected absentmindedly, rearranging her salad about her plate and smiling to herself at the sight of two of the garden gnomes in the garden running around in circles after each other through the bright purple flower beds.

“No, you were here with Mum, having lunch by the look of it! It was me and Tiffany who were sorting out the decorations up in Brighton,� Ron said, but with a grin so that Hermione would know that he was only teasing. “Anyway, I really couldn’t see any difference between the cream, vanilla and various other exotic shades of white! So Tiff told me to go home and stop being such a nuisance. She’s staying the night at her friend’s, so I might as well go to this party. That is, if you don‘t mind?� Ron added, misinterpreting the look on Hermione’s face.

“Mind? No, of course not! It’s your party, not mine, though to be honest I’m not sure whose party it is, and Ginny didn’t seem to either... but no, that’d be great! If you go I won’t seem like such a third wheel," Hermione said cheerfully, getting up from the table to clear her plate.

"Fine, I'll see you later then. I've got a few errands to run, pick you up at eight? No, I mean - " He blushed.

Hermione laughed. "No, eight will be good," she said as she left the room, leaving Ron staring after her.

"Enjoying the party, Hermione?" Ginny asked with a giggle. "I tell you, it is so good to be out! Not that I don't love looking after Cathy - and Harry come to that! But I feel like I haven't been properly out in ages!"

"I know what you mean," Hermione agreed, smiling in the dim lighting at a young wizard who was dancing next to some brightly coloured banners. The young witch he was dancing with, however, seemed rather disgruntled as she saw him return Hermione's smile.

After a few minutes, he joined her. “What drink can I get you? Sherry?� he asked, leaning towards Hermione to make himself heard over the loud music.

"Don't you think you've had enough?" Ginny asked her warningly, as Hermione accepted the drink and took a sip.

"Probably!" she agreed with a laugh. "This'll be my last one, honest." With that, she turned her attention to the wizard, leaving Ginny to shrug and go over to talk to an old friend from school. Hermione was old enough to look after herself, Ginny reasoned, and everyone was allowed to let loose once in a while.

Ron was talking to an aunt of Tiffany's when he saw Hermione dancing with the wizard, and he couldn't honestly say that he didn't still feel that twinge of jealousy. It was just like when he had been forced to watch her dancing with Krum all those years ago; through sheer morbid fascination he couldn't tear his eyes away. He glowered at the sight and memory of Hermione, quite scaring Tiffany's aunt as she hurriedly excused herself to go and talk to someone else.

"May I have this dance?" Ron uttered the words he hadn't dared to at school, causing Hermione to smile in much the same way she probably would have done then.

"Sure," she said amicably, leaning against him as she missed a beat in the song and tripped over an abandoned streamer. "Whoops! Good party, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Ron agreed, without much enthusiasm. "Hang on - you're not drunk, are you?" Ron had only seen Hermione drunk twice before. Once had been at a spirited Christmas party with the twins, who vehemently denied spiking anyone’s drink. The second time had been at another party when they weren't dating, but Hermione had broken up with her boyfriend. The fact that he had seen Ron kiss Hermione in a way that he couldn't honestly say was platonic was irrelevant, Ron was sure. But both of those had been quite a long time ago, and as a rule Hermione didn't generally drink. It struck Ron how long it had been since he had properly seen and been around Hermione; for all he knew, a lot could have changed since then.

"No! Well, not really!" she laughed, swinging away from Ron in time with the music.

"Come on, let me take you home before you do something you'll regret." Ron led her off the dance floor and over to Harry and George. "We're going to be off now; Hermione's probably had a bit too much to drink for her own good."

"No, I haven't - you have!" Hermione insisted, nodding to Harry and George, who both grinned at Ron in return. "Ron, I'm fine, honestly!" Personally, Harry didn't think that Hermione looked more drunk than many of the other people there, but despite himself found it rather touching that Ron did, and wanted to take her home safely.

"Alright - I've had too much to drink, and you need to get me home then," Ron agreed, rolling his eyes. "Seriously, let her go like this and she'll end up trying to Apparate to Africa or something! I’d take her on my broom except she’d never get on it, and if somehow she did she’d probably fall off. Plus, it'd be even more risky when she's drunk! I’ll probably just have to go after her with Floo powder, make sure she gets in okay.� Harry nodded, unconsciously putting down his own drink as George gave a wry smile.

“I take it you won’t be coming back afterwards?� George asked, putting his drink back on the bar also, ignoring the girl opposite who was trying to catch his eye.

“Nah, I don’t think so. I’d better make sure Hermione’s okay. Besides, I wasn’t having that much fun avoiding Hermione’s relatives anyway!� Ron laughed, but Harry and George didn’t join in: instead, they stared at him. Harry with an open mouth, but George with another wry grin.

“Hermione’s relatives? Funny, I thought you were marrying Tiffany!� George commented, this time breaking out into laughter as Ron blushed, his ears turning slightly red.

“I meant Tiffany! Must have had more to drink than I thought! Well, I’ll be off then, see you later Harry,� Ron said quickly, ushering Hermione away as she waved to Harry and George, and over to the fireplace, where he threw in some Floo powder and called out the name of Hermione’s flat. “After you,� he gestured, as Hermione stepped forward.

Ron coughed as he stepped out a minute later into Hermione’s living room to see her sprawled out on the sofa. He hesitated in front of the fireplace, unsure of what to do or where to go. It struck him again how long it had been since he had been with Hermione properly. He had never been to this flat before; they had lost contact for a quite a while before she moved, and had very rarely spoken or seen each other afterwards.

He took in all aspects of the living room, noticing how much it reflected Hermione’s tastes, from the extensive bookshelves against one wall to the comfy sofas and picture of her cat alongside another. He walked over to the coffee table, where the picture of Crookshanks was, and crouched down to examine the other assorted frames next to it. One was a Muggle picture of Hermione with her parents, which Ron was greatly tempted to prod with his wand. It was only the thought of him turning into his father and collecting 'fellytones' or something of the like that made Ron focus on another photograph. The one he chose depicted Hermione with a group of other people, whom Ron could only assume to be people she worked with; they were all waving, chatting and rearranging things in the room they were in, which Ron also didn't recognise. Another frame caught Ron’s eye, of Hermione and a man he didn't know. He clenched his fists unintentionally, so quickly moved his gaze to the last picture on the table: one of Hermione with Harry, Ginny and Cathy, standing by a swing set in a park that Ron didn't know. Cathy was sitting in one of the swings and the adults took it in turn to push her gently. Ron smiled; it was a nice picture. But where was he? There wasn’t a single photograph, snapshot or even part of a picture of himself there, maybe torn up after another of their fights, then stuck clumsily back together with Spellotape after the inevitable and wonderful reconciliation. Ron silently berated himself for even thinking about that, but Hermione herself interrupted his thoughts.

“Ron?� she said, slightly groggy after the Floo travel - which you weren't supposed to use if you'd been drinking. “What on earth were you thinking? We shouldn't have Flooed here - we've had alcohol, and you know it isn't advised to use the Floo Network when you've been drinking more than a glass of wine, as you're more liable to get out of the wrong grate or hit your head and knock yourself unconscious!" Hermione scolded. "Wait - what are you even doing here?�

“I was just making sure you got back alright. But I’ll go now,� Ron said rather coldly, the photographs still weighing in his mind.

“No! Don’t go - you're not Flooing again! I didn’t mean it like that; only it was your party. Sort of.� Hermione pushed herself up onto her elbows and looked inquiringly up at Ron. “They were all your friends and family, wouldn’t you rather be there?�

“No, not really. I wasn’t enjoying it that much to tell the truth. Stupid idea really, to have a party just before the wedding - I’m nervous enough as it is!� Ron laughed throatily as he went to sit down next to Hermione, but paused, recalling his earlier mistaken comment, and decided to sit instead on the chair opposite her.

"So,� Hermione said hesitantly. “What's Tilly -"

"Tiffany," Ron corrected her, though he had a funny feeling that it wasn’t just the drink that had caused Hermione's 'forgetfulness'.

"Sorry, Tiffany, like?" Hermione had now fallen back down on the sofa again, feeling about for a cushion to prop her head up slightly, though the truth was she didn’t really want to read Ron’s expression at that exact moment.

“Tiff’s great, she’s really nice and sweet. She’s funny, but in a sort of sarcastic way. She works in a clothes shop; Twilfit and Tatting’s, as she’s really into fashion. You should see all the magazines we’ve got lying around the house! She’s kind of small, blonde hair and brown eyes, though not really like yours,� Ron noted, pausing for a moment to look into Hermione‘s eyes before quickly averting his gaze. Hermione could see he hadn’t even needed to think about what he was saying as he talked animatedly about his fiancée. “She didn't go to Hogwarts, she was home schooled for a bit before she went to this small school in the Midlands. Well, she's really determined - when she wants something, she'll go to any means to get it! That's how she got me!" Ron laughed, but Hermione didn't join in. Ron looked over her to check that she was still awake, which she was, before continuing. "That's how she got her job, too, there was a lot of competition to be an assistant buyer, but she worked really hard. I bet someday soon she'll even open her own shop. Anyway, she has this cat that I hate, worse than Crookshanks! But this one’s all sooty and stripy and it’s got this really evil glare that never seems to blink - it’s really creepy! I wanted to throw it out the window, see if it would land on it’s feet, but Tiffany said, ‘No way, what if he doesn't?’ I didn’t mention that that was what I was hoping!� Ron grinned as he leaned back in his chair, stretching his feet out further. “No, Tiffany’s great, really great. I love her. Well, obviously, I’m marrying her!�

“That’s... great. Really great," Hermione echoed with a yawn. "I can’t wait to meet her. But what about you, Ron? What’ve you been up to? I feel like I haven’t spoken to you properly in ages.�

“I was thinking the same thing earlier,� Ron admitted. “Well, I haven’t been doing too much, really. Oh - the other day when I was at Harry's, Cathy fell over into her paddling pool, and it reminded me of that time in second year when...�

---

Ron smiled as he realised that Hermione had drifted off halfway through her story. Things had seemed almost like they used to, with them both laughing, reminiscing and bickering lightly, but Ron could still sense almost an edge around it. Something that might go unnoticed by anyone but them, something that went unsaid, but something that was definitely still there. He wasn’t altogether sure what it was; the feeling was somewhat familiar, although he hadn’t felt it in a long time. But then, I haven’t seen Hermione in a long time, Ron reasoned. Maybe it’s just a feeling that comes with her?

“Ron...� Hermione murmured in her sleep. "Remember to buy some eggs.� Ron grinned, lolling back in his chair as a realization slowly began to dawn. “I love..." she murmured again, causing Ron to sit up sharply as she slumped further down in seat, her eyes still shut. "...Chocolate Frogs." Ron sighed.

"Of course,� he said to no one in particular. No one was there, apart from Hermione, who was asleep. Besides, he’d made it a point not to reveal his feelings to Hermione when they were at school, why break the habit? “Who doesn't? But I've been thinking I might love someone else more... Good thing you can't hear me now Hermione, as I think, that maybe I -" Hermione's eyelids batted open. "Er - love Chocolate Frogs!"

---

Ron scowled as once again he found himself in the wrong room. It wasn't as if Hermione was particularly heavy, but he was tired too, and he didn't like to think what Tiffany or anyone else might think if they saw him carrying a sleeping Hermione back to her room.

Eventually he opened the right door and dropped Hermione unceremoniously onto her bed. Then, although Ron knew he should probably leave, curiosity got the better of him and he went over to the window. It was dark outside, so he couldn't see much apart from the outline of a building and a few trees. Ron wondered how late it was as pulled the curtains shut rather violently. He'd lost track of time when he had been talking to Hermione. He poked around the rest of the room, quite scaring himself as a pile of her robes fell on him out of the cupboard. It took a great deal of self restraint when Ron saw an envelope written in the untidy scrawl he had come to recognise as Krum’s for him not to tear it apart; Ron felt rather proud of himself as he left it on the bedside table. But then his attention was soon drawn to the picture lying beside it.

It was nothing but a snapshot, not even in a frame; it had obviously been well fumbled and moved about. It was the one Ron had been searching for, hoping for, downstairs. It was of him, Harry and Hermione; they were sitting outside on a summer's day, though the sky was still grey and cloudy and he was even wearing a coat at the time. Typical British weather, Ron thought with a wry grin. He smiled as he caught himself and Hermione exchanging glances. Whether they were of annoyance or just trying to see what the other was doing he couldn't tell. Harry obviously could though, as he seemed to get frustrated with it and stormed out of the picture altogether, leaving himself and Hermione standing awkwardly together.

Ron leapt up as Hermione rolled over, her nose only a centimetre away from his, and gave a small snore, reminding him that he really shouldn't still be there. He pulled the duvet cover over her to keep her warm, and he couldn't conceal the smile on his face as she smiled in her sleep, pulling the duvet, along with his hand, closer to her.

Hermione yawned as the bright sunlight shone through a gap in the curtains, waking her up. She rolled over, pulling the covers over her head in an attempt to block the day out. Two minutes later, when the day still hadn't gone away, she reluctantly untangled her feet from the duvet and got up. She struggled to remember the night before as she pulled her dressing gown around her until she realised that she was still wearing the same dress as last night, only someone had taken her shoes off. Hermione frowned as she wandered into the living room, where she let out a piercing scream.

"What? What is it?" the person lying on her sofa yelled as he promptly fell off it.

"You! You're what it is!" Hermione screeched back.

"What? What am I? Why are we still screaming?" Ron cried, though it was slightly muffled by his shirt which had become tangled around his head. This turned quickly to laughter, however, which Hermione stopped screaming long enough to join him in.

"You scared me! I mean, I wasn't really expecting to find someone asleep on my sofa!" Hermione sat down on the sofa, instinctively flattening her hair, as Ron struggled up. "What are you doing here? Wait - what happened last night? I remember talking with you for ages, and that I drank a bit at the party, then someone shoved me in a fireplace..."

"Yeah, that would be me,� Ron admitted, buttoning his shirt back up quickly. “I took you home halfway through the party; I didn't think it would really be a good idea to let you attempt it on your own."

"Excuse me?" Hermione asked stiffly, her hackles raised instantly. "Ron, I can decide for myself what's a good idea or not, thank you! If I want to drink too much sherry - not that I did! - I shall!" Hermione felt her voice raise higher than she'd meant it to, but she couldn't just stop there. "If I want to make it home on my own, it isn't for you to decide whether or not I can, or when I do! I'm a grown woman, and far more sensible than you, I'd like to add!"

"Oh, yeah?" Ron retorted loudly, colour flowing into his cheeks as he yelled back without thinking. "If that's so true, then why was I the one helping you home when you didn't even know half of what you were doing? Why was I the one who had to follow you back here to a place I'd never been before, just to make sure you were okay? Why was I the one who stayed here all night talking just so you wouldn't be left on your own when you were drunk? Why was I the one who had to put you to bed when you were out of it?"

"Yes," Hermione agreed after a moments silence, having the decency to look slightly ashamed before curiosity got the better of her, much as it had Ron the previous night. "Why did you?"

---

Ron let the door slam behind him as he threw his coat onto the coat hanger, missed and watched it fall to floor.

"Good thing I wasn't a Chaser..." he mumbled as he walked into the kitchen and into a sight he really didn't want to see.

Tiffany was standing in the middle of the room, her hands on her hips, glaring up at Ron.

"Where have you been?" she asked accusingly, tapping her foot. "I've been waiting here for hours - where were you? Your bed wasn't slept in, I went to Harry's house and he said the last time he'd seen you was leaving halfway through the party with Hermione?" Tiffany had never met Hermione, but Ron was sure that she wasn't completely unaware of the comparisons to her she'd had to put up with from everyone, especially during the earlier stages of their relationship. She'd had to hear many stories about Hermione over the years; some she had welcomed, others she hadn’t, especially upon hearing how close Hermione and Ron used to be.

"She's my friend, I couldn't leave her like that! Who knows what could have happened?" Ron reasoned, trying to subtly avoid her glare.

"Exactly - who knows what could have happened? Ron, I'm an tolerant person! I have no problem with you doing things without me, things that I might not know about or might not necessarily want you to do. Wouldn't you say that I'm a fairly trusting girlfriend?" Ron nodded; it was true. Tiffany was always very understanding, whether it was because he wanted to go away for a weekend to watch a Quidditch match, or he had been spending time with a pretty girl alone at work; she was usually alright about it. "But when you stay the night at your drunk ex-girlfriend's house - who happens to be Hermione, of all people, who I haven't even met but feel like I know so much about! - you can understand how I might be a little upset!" Tiffany was now pacing around the room angrily, wringing her hands. "What am I to think Ron? And not even a week before our wedding! Well?"

"Well, actually it was longer than a week before our wedding, as most of this was yesterday and we're getting married a week today and - Tiffany, I'm sorry!" Ron changed tack, noticing his fiancée's murderous glare. "It was nothing, really! I was just making sure she was okay, it was late, I'd had a bit to drink as well, so I slept on the sofa. That's all. We're just friends, honest! We're not even really good friends anymore," Tiffany didn't fail to pick up on the tinge of regret in his voice.

"Yes, but from what I hear you used to be a lot more than that."

Ron sighed. "Yes, Tiff, but that was a long time ago now! Besides, I'm engaged - to you! We're getting married! Does spending the night at an old friend's change that?"

"You tell me."

---

The doorbell awoke Hermione from her slumber, as she shook off the heavy book that lay on her chest, and got up from the sofa that she had hardly moved from all day.

"I'm coming!" she called out drowsily as she stumbled into the hallway and opened the door.

"Hi. Are you Hermione Granger?" Hermione could only nod blankly as she examined the woman standing in front her.

"Yes. Who are you?"

The woman still standing on her doorstep emitted a hollow laugh complete with a short smile as she extended her hand. "Oh, I'm so sorry! You see, I almost feel as if I know you already, I forget that you don't know me. Tiffany. Tiffany Malease." Hermione shook her hand after only a split second's shock, which she felt she was able to conceal fairly well. Tiffany settled herself down on the chair in Hermione's lounge as she was invited inside. Hermione felt herself immediately analysing Tiffany. There's no way she's a natural blonde! she thought, rather cattily. I wonder how she got that scar on her nose? Ron didn't mention that... I bet she's a Quidditch fan. "So, I was wondering if I could talk to you... about my fiancé?"

"Ron? Of course, what do you want to know? Although I'm not sure I'm really the right person; I don't really see him much any more. Harry would be the better person to ask." Hermione waved up some snacks and drinks from the kitchen, mainly to give herself something to do.

"No, no, it's definitely you I wanted to talk to. You see, I heard how close you and Ron were, and wondered why I'd never met you." Tiffany's voice may have seemed light, but Hermione couldn't help but sense there might be a far darker undertone to it.

"Well, like I said, I don't generally see Ron anymore." Hermione began to prepare her usual speech of, 'We just grew apart over the years', but Tiffany got there first.

"I know that you were young, that you grew apart over the years - Ron's told me all that. But he also told me that he spent the night here last night."

"Nothing happened," Hermione said automatically, shifting in her seat, looking longingly out of the window, trying her hardest to shift the thought from her mind that she was not entirely certain of that fact.

"Oh, I know," said Tiffany with a smile. "That's what Ron told me. I trust him. Really, I do... But I can't help but worry a little. I mean, my fiancé spends the night with a woman I don't know, who he used to be crazy about - oh, I've heard the stories!" Tiffany told her very matter-of-factly, before Hermione had the chance to deny or protest against her words. "Well, I'm a woman! Can you really blame me? I suppose I just wanted to put my mind at rest." Tiffany reached forward to take another slice of cake. "I just want to make sure that my life is, well, safe. I mean, I love Ron! I just don't want him to leave us on my wedding day, and be left thinking, why didn't I do something? I know, I may be being completely irrational, but - "

"Wait - us?" The cogs were turning around inside Hermione's head and coming to a conclusion she desperately wanted to be false - one of the only times she had wished for logic to fail her. Hermione looked up to meet Tiffany's gaze for the first time, but this time, Tiffany was the one who looked away.

"I didn't mean to - yes. Us. I'm pregnant." That word seemed to echo in Hermione's head, taking a second to sink in. "But please - don't tell anyone. I want to wait until after the wedding, I mean...�

“Oh, no, that’s fine. I - I mean, congratulations. That's - that's great!" Hermione stuttered. She felt dizzy; everything seemed to have turned to a blur, from Tiffany's soft smile, that in Hermione's eyes seemed to be edged with artifice, to the slice of cake still in her hand, halfway to her mouth. "So what did you want to know?"

"The truth."

Hermione stepped out of the doorway of the tall building which was the home of her workplace. It was only a short walk to her house, which she preferred to Floo powder. Hermione liked to think that if she looked hard enough, she could almost see the sea. Or at least the trees over the road that belonged to the small park there, which she deemed to be close enough. She smiled, remembering the day that Harry and Ginny had come down last summer, how sweet Cathy had looked, slightly dwarfed by the swings that she had insisted on playing on. Hermione blinked as she saw someone else sitting on the same swing, who wasn’t Cathy but bore a definite resemblance to her.

“Ron?� she called out, running down the steps and over the road. “What are you doing here?�

“Ah, well, I had something to do and... Can I walk you home?� Ron finished lamely, shuffling his feet along the grass, reminding Hermione vividly of their schooldays.

“Well, only if you’re going to carry my books!� Hermione said with a short, slightly forced laugh. They walked in silence for a few minutes as they crossed back across the busy road, Ron still not being quite familiar with the ’Green Cross Code’ or Muggle transportation systems, much to Hermione’s distress after four horns were blown at them in quick succession. “So what brings you here, other than a suicide mission?� Hermione asked once she felt they were safe, back on the pavement.

“Well, I just wanted to talk to you really,� Ron admitted with a grin. “That is, if those bloody contraptions don’t kill us first!� Hermione rolled her eyes.

“You came all the way up here just to talk to me? You’ve had three years in which we barely talked at all, and now you travel halfway up the country to talk to me? Must be pretty important,� Hermione mused, looking over at the man by her side, who gave nothing away, only shrugging before he looked away.

“Kind of. I just, you know, missed you I guess.� Ron shrugged again as they walked on, trying not to show how much it had taken for him to admit it. “Not just today, I mean - I missed you over all the years.�

“You couldn’t have told me that over the fire or in a letter?� Hermione asked, a look of surprise evident on her face.

“Well,� Ron said, as they came up to her door. “I could have.� Then, without warning, he leaned over and kissed her. “But then I guess I couldn’t have done that. Besides, you know I‘m no good at writing.�

Hermione stared, not quite able to comprehend what just happened. You’re supposed to be intelligent, Hermione! And you can’t even understand one kiss, Hermione thought to herself in frustration. You can’t even tell when a kiss means that someone’s missed you, or -

Then he kissed her again.

“Ron - what was - � Hermione broke off, slightly breathless as the light breezed wrapped itself around her, although she suspected that it wasn't just the cold that was giving her goose bumps.

“I don’t know. It was just, the other night I realised how stupid I was.�

“Stupid? Which time?� Hermione asked with a nervous laugh.

“All the time, Hermione!� Ron rolled his eyes. “All the time I never said anything, whether it was ‘will you go to the Ball with me‘, or ‘it’s you I want to be kissing, not - whoever I was using at the time to make you jealous!’ Or ‘help me with whatever work I’m doing at the time, be it homework or real work, not because I need your help, but because I want to be around you,’ or – or ‘I love you...’“

Hermione stared at him, utterly speechless.

"Ron - I - I had no idea..." Her mouth opened and closed several times before more words came out. "I don't know what to say..."

"You could always say that you love me too," Ron prompted, with a small, nervous smile as they both stood there, still. Hermione shivered as she was suddenly conscious of the fact that they were both still standing on her doorstep. The man standing in front of her now reminded her so vividly of the boy she used to know, the boy she used to love. But they'd both grown up since then. Things had changed.

"I - I can't. I want to, but I can't. Ron, I did love you. But that was a long time ago.... I mean – you’re getting married, for Merlin’s sake! What about Tiffany?" Hermione brought home the sharp reminder of Ron’s fiancée, something he appeared to have forgotten about, not only by his actions, but the look on his face.

"Tiffany - well, she's great and pretty and funny... But she's not you." Ron admitted in a small voice. "I do love her...but not as much as I love you. I just didn't realise that, I suppose. I tried to tell myself that I was over you, that it was just puppy love. But it wasn't. It isn't!�

"Ron,� Hermione started, looking away, anywhere, down at the stern concrete beneath her, the cool sky above her, all of them which seemed to be judging her. When she could take it no more, she finally looked back at the eyes boring into her, where she didn't find judgement, although suddenly she felt as if she would prefer to. "Why now?" she asked in a small, desperate voice, which threatened to crack any minute, as she knew what she had to say. “I'm sorry,� she tried again, putting off the words that she least wanted to utter – she could guess how much courage it must have taken for Ron to say all these things to her. Hermione had never been a procrastinator, but right then she wished almost more than anything that she was. “Ron - I did love you. I did. A long time ago..."

"Right," Ron said shortly, looking away, missing the tears building up in Hermione’s eyes.

"I'm sorry, I - "

"No. Don't be. I should probably go." Ron said abruptly.

"Yes." Hermione agreed softly, blinking back the tears. “Tiffany will be waiting."

---

Ginny sighed as she pinned back her hair for what felt like the hundredth time. It wouldn't seem to stay either up, out of her eyes, or form anything that looked even remotely presentable. There was no getting around it - she just did not like weddings. Bill's had been awful, what with Fleur floating around everywhere with her silly accent, Gabrielle constantly reminding her that she was no longer with Harry and just being a general annoyance at her side to add to her own misery. With her own wedding she had been far too stressed to enjoy most of it, Harry had been no help whatsoever. Although, she thought in retrospect, it was a nice dress. And the honeymoon followed...

"Ginny, please could you fetch a hair clip for me?" Tiffany called out desperately. Ginny smiled, glad to know that she wasn't alone: Tiffany seemed to be suffering just as much as she was. "Argh! And can you also get me a drink?"

"Sure. What type?" Ginny answered absentmindedly, not being able to find a spare hair clip she pulled one out from her own hair, causing a strand to fall over her eyes again.

"I want to say water, but that's just not strong enough! I also want to say Firewhiskey, but I think I'll leave that for later. How about some coffee?"

"You can't drink that!" Ginny said indignantly before she could stop herself. As Tiffany's startled gaze fell on her, she was suddenly glad of her hair's inability to stay put, as it shielded her from the bride's sudden cold look.

"Why not?" Tiffany asked suspiciously, narrowing her already fairly small eyes as she pulled her hair back to fix her gaze upon Ginny.

"Because, um... I've heard it can be... What about your baby?" Ginny surrendered under Tiffany's penetrating stare.

"Oh Ginny, I don't plan on having babies until at least a few years have gone by!" Tiffany explained with a little laugh, as she relaxed into fluffing up her hair in the mirror. "What's the fun in a honeymoon and being a newlywed if you have to look after a screaming baby right away? Not that I don't respect your decisions, I mean, Cathy's darling and I can't wait until there are a few of my own running around, but I want to focus on my career and having fun for now."

"What about the baby you told Hermione you were pregnant with?" Ginny asked angrily, unaware of how loud her voice was getting.

All of the time that Ron had been dating her, Ginny had wanted to hate Tiffany. Mainly out of respect for her friendship with Hermione, and the fact that she would yearn for the days when the four them would hang out together, which she knew wouldn't happen if Ron was with someone else. Try as she might, after the first month it became harder and harder to dislike Tiffany. She just seemed too generally nice. Of course, she had her moments, but the few Ginny had been around to witness she hadn’t really been able to build up any ammunition with. But now she had an iron-clad reason - almost.

"Oh," Tiffany said in a low voice, her cheeks collecting a tinge of pink. "I didn't even mean to say anything; it just, sort of, slipped out! She said she wouldn't tell anyone," she retaliated accusingly, trying to mask the colour in her face by dabbing on more powder.

"It just, sort of, slipped out," Ginny answered dryly, arching an eyebrow.

"Look, the reason I didn't tell anyone was because it was still pretty early and I wasn't even sure! All I knew was that I'd been throwing up a bit and everyone said that I was acting really moody, but I just put it down to pre-wedding stress and testing all those wedding cakes.� The words tumbled out of Tiffany’s mouth, seeming to speed up as they fell out, which joined the ever increasing colour in Tiffany’s cheeks as she went on. “Then I took a pregnancy test, just to make sure - and it came up positive. So I went to St. Mungo's yesterday evening - on my way back from Hermione's - and they said that it must have a been a false alarm, that it really was just down to stress and too much cake," she admitted, looking away.

"Why didn't you tell Hermione then?" Ginny asked, her voice still raised, her mind unsure how much of Tiffany's explanation to believe. "She still thinks that you're having a baby!"

"But how would it change anything if I wasn't?" Tiffany asked sharply, looking up to meet Ginny's gaze.

"Well - " Ginny faltered. "It doesn't, I suppose... But she should still know! What if she...brought something for the non-existent baby?" she finished lamely.

Tiffany shrugged. "Then she could take it back. Or give it to you, anything. Does it really matter? All that matters is that I love Ron, right?"

Ginny nodded dully, but she couldn't help but think that the tone in Tiffany's voice might suggest that she was trying to convince herself as well as Ginny, as she turned back to preparing for the wedding.

---

"Hermione?� a faraway voice drifted in from the fireplace. “Are you there?�

Hermione jumped up from the curled up ball she had been lying in on her chair, still not being entirely accustomed to seeing heads popping up in her fireplace.

“Luna? What are you doing here?� she asked, unable to mask the astonishment in her voice.

“Well, I was just passing by, and - “

“You were just passing by my fireplace?�

“Yes, on the way to Ron’s reception,� Luna explained, as if it were obvious.

“How exactly were you planning on getting to - where?� Hermione fell back onto her chair. Her head was enough of a mess as it was, she really didn’t need a conversation with Luna Lovegood right then to complicate things even more.

“Ron’s reception. Say, isn't his wedding starting soon?� Luna asked as she stepped fully in to Hermione’s living room.

“Yes,� Hermione agreed with a small sigh.

“Well, why aren't you there?" Luna asked, looking Hermione up and down. “Not quite finished getting ready?� Hermione’s hair was pulled back loosely off from her face into a bun, but strands were falling out everywhere. It completed the rest of her look, which was composed of a light purple dressing gown pulled tightly around her, along with a pair of old, ratty orange slippers.

"I‘m not going," Hermione replied in a clipped tone, although it was fairly obvious that she was close to tears.

"Why not? Haven‘t you been invited? I‘m sure that Ginny said - "

"I have been invited, I’m just not going!" exclaimed Hermione with a scowl. “Shouldn't you be getting there now anyway?� she hinted grumpily.

“No, I can stay and talk for a bit,� Luna replied lightly. “I’m only going to the reception.� Luna sat herself down across from Hermione cheerfully, and Hermione noticed how little Luna had changed. They still saw each other every now and then, and to Hermione it was quite like being seventeen again. Of course, Luna had grown taller, her hair was longer and she wore different clothes - different being the key word - but she was still Luna Lovegood, the strange, funny little girl who came down to fight Death Eaters with them, who kept them informed of the latest creatures on her father‘s hit list. The girl who Hermione had been wary of at first - not only because she kept her wand behind her ear, but because she seemed to have taking a liking to Ron – Hermione stopped her train of thought there. No, Luna Lovegood and her connotations were not what she needed right then.

“So why aren't you going to the wedding?�

“I just don’t feel like it.� Hermione lied blankly, avoiding Luna‘s steady stare.

“It hurts, doesn't it?� Luna said suddenly, with a small, knowing smile.

“What?�

“Pretending you’ve fallen out of love.�

Luna never ceased to amaze her. Hermione just sat there, her mouth open until she retrieved some piece of mind and managed to close it, before thinking of a reply.

“What are you talking about?� Admittedly, it wasn’t a very good reply, but it was the best she could come up with at such short notice.

“You’re pretending that you’ve fallen out of love with Ron,� Luna repeated matter-of-factly. “But you haven’t, and you know it. That’s why you can’t go to the wedding.�

“No it’s not,� Hermione replied truthfully. “The reason I can’t go to the wedding - “ Hermione took a deep breath as her throat choked up and tears threatened to spill out of her eyes. “The reason I can’t go to the wedding,� she repeated, a few octaves higher, her voice cracking slightly on some of the words. “Is because...� She paused again, looking away from Luna's encouraging nod and down at the table, where a snapshot seemed to have materialized. Or more likely it was just still lying there, forgotten from where she had left it the night before.

She looked down sadly at the picture, remembering how she had pulled it out from her pocket the night before, and how she had sat in the same position she was in at that very moment, simply staring at it all evening.

It was the picture of her, Harry and Ron. It usually stayed by her bedside table, but even though Hermione would store it in an album, put it in a drawer, it always seemed to find its way back to her. She smiled sadly as Harry reappeared in it briefly to punch Ron lightly on the arm and laugh at Hermione, before going again. She felt a tear pass unwillingly down her face as it landed on the picture, on her photographic self. She felt more tears begin to form inside her as she saw herself glare, then saw Ron offer his coat to her. She felt the tears all fall down unstoppably as he accompanied this with by putting his arm around her.

Unable to tare her gaze away, Hermione realised that it wasn't the memory that was making her cry, or the notion of Ron putting his arm around her to keep her warm. It was the fact that if she, or someone, anyone, didn't stop the wedding, that would never happen again.

“Because,� she repeated, this time in whisper. “Because when the wizard says, ‘Are there any objections?’ I don't think I could trust myself not to say yes."

Hermione rummaged around noisily in the kitchen, unsure of what she was looking for, but she found that she didn't really care as long as it made a loud enough noise to distract her from her thoughts.

Luna had left a few minutes before, after Hermione had pushed away her sympathies, instructing her to go onto the reception, she would be fine, as a matter of fact she had something she had to do just then anyway.

It wasn't until the third mug fell to the floor with a crash that Hermione burst out in tears. She couldn't tear her eyes away from all the broken pieces, the shards scattered all over the floor, thinking of how much they reflected her heart and her head at that moment.

Stop being so stupid, she told herself sternly. "Reparo!" She pointed her wand at the broken shards which instantly repaired themselves. See. Now if only you could mend everything else like that... Wait! What if I can? It seemed to Hermione that the crash had woken her up from her despair – bringing her back to the proactive state of mind she was more used to being in, as she tried to pull herself together. I'm Hermione Granger - I've always been able to find a solution to problems, be they Arithmacy problems or otherwise! But if there is a way, I'm not going to find it lying around here. If it's anywhere, it's going to be at the wedding...

---

Ron looked around, wringing his hands nervously. It's alright, he reassured himself. It's your wedding day! You're supposed to be nervous! But the nagging feeling at the back of his brain just wouldn't seem to go away, no matter how hard he tried to banish it. The nagging feeling that told him he wasn't nervous about his wedding - he was nervous about whether Hermione would come or not. He was nervous about whether he wanted her to or not. He was nervous about Hermione full stop, come to think of it. He was nervous about whether he would go through with this wedding - about whether he should go through with this - his - wedding.

"It's nearly time, mate," Ron came out of his reverie to hear his Best Man inform him. "Are you ready for this?"

He looked at the people piling in, all talking excitedly, broad smiles upon their faces. He could see his mother taking her seat next to Fred, of whom had even donned a suit for the occasion. He could see Tiffany's brother stand up and wave over a girl who he didn't recognise, who was looking a little lost by a particularly large bunch of flowers.

"Ron!" Both Ron and Harry looked up, slightly alarmed at the high pitched tone in Ginny's voice. "Ron! Great - there you are!"

"Well, it is about five minutes until my wedding, Ginny; where else did you expect me to be?" Ron asked, his eyebrows raised as he shared a confused glance with Harry.

"I don't know - where exactly were you five minutes before our wedding, Harry?"

Harry gave an indistinguishable mumble before suddenly waving vigorously at a bemused looking young woman and dashing off.

"Ron, I need to tell you something!" Ginny said, pulling her brother over to the side and through the first door she saw. "Colloportus!"

"You need to tell me something in the girls' bathroom?" Ron asked, looking around at the room his sister had just locked him inside. "Ginny, this better be important," he said warningly.

"Of course it is!" Ginny hissed, rolling her eyes at her brother. "Do you think I'd drag you away from your own wedding and into a girls' bathroom if it wasn't?" Ron shook his head as she carried on. "Listen - it's just that - I well... You see - "

"Just spit it out Ginny, I've got to get married!" Ron said, looking at his watch impatiently, and eyeing up the door which had increasingly loud knocks upon it.

"Occupied!" Ginny shouted towards the door. "Use another one!"

"Honestly," they heard a voice mutter from outside the door. "Young people these days! And before the ceremony has even started! You'd have thought they could have some control over themselves, even if it is a wedding..." Ginny was torn between laughter and disgust at what the woman's comment implied, before continuing her original train of thought.

"Look, earlier I..." Ginny trailed off again. As much as she wanted to tell her brother about the talk she had just had with Tiffany, something was holding her back. She couldn't help but feel selfish, Tiffany's words - "All that matters is that I love Ron, right?" - echoing in her mind. As surely that was the only important thing? Not who Ginny wanted Ron to be with – who he wanted to be with, a girl who loved him. A girl whom he must love an awful lot, to be marrying her. "I - never mind. But - well - come on, we have a wedding to get to. Is everyone here, do you know?"

"You had to drag me into the girls’ bathroom to ask me if everyone was here?" Ron asked suspiciously, narrowing his eyes at his sister, who nodded profusely.

Don't make this any harder for me, Ron, she thought, desperately biting back the words from her tongue as she avoided her brother's gaze and moved towards the door.

"Not everyone," Ron muttered in an undertone, although he still wasn't sure if that were a good thing or not, as Ginny unlocked the door to a flock of girls falling in and running to the mirror.

---

Hermione stepped out of the fireplace carefully, dressed in her best dress robes. She didn't look perfect, but her appearance was the least of her worries as she quickly scoured the room for Ron.

She found him standing up near the front of the church, looking nervously at the large bunch of flowers near him, as if something might jump out from them and squirt Bubocter Pus all over his new robes. Although, to be fair, Fred and George were around, so it wasn't such an absurd possibility.

It looked as though the ceremony was close to starting as nearly everyone was seated, tears were already brimming in Molly Weasley's eyes, and the excited chatter had already bubbled down.

However, Hermione's eyes weren't on any of those - they weren't even on the man at the head of the altar, waiting nervously, looking lost in his own thoughts. They were on the woman who was peeking around the corner of the back of the church, looking not at the man she was about to marry - but at her, Hermione. Hermione couldn't help it as her gaze fell from the woman's eyes to her stomach, which was perfectly flat in her wedding dress, but which Hermione knew wouldn't stay that way, back up to her eyes, which this time were hidden by the hand wiping away a tear as she looked up to meet Hermione's eyes.

As Hermione tore her gaze away from Tiffany, who had disappeared again behind the wall, she heard footsteps rapidly advancing towards her and turned around to see the groom himself, a huge smile upon his face.

"You came," he said simply, but his eyes showed far more than his words.

"I did," Hermione admitted with a small smile. "Ron..." Hermione trailed off, looking into Ron's eyes. She'd been rehearsing this moment ever since she'd found out the truth about how she felt, regardless of what else might be going on in Ron's life, regardless of the wife he could be leaving at the altar, regardless of the child he could be abandoning except for every other weekend - but now it came to it, everything seemed different. Looking into Ron's eyes, alight with joy, excitement and trepidation made her reconsider everything. It always had.

"Yes?" he looked at her eagerly, nervously. Could she really do this? Hermione couldn't help the image of Tiffany in her wedding dress, the laughter of small children, Ron's eyes all running through her mind’s eye.

"I - well - how could I miss my best friend's wedding?" she finished, leaning forwards to give him a hug, hoping that he wouldn't feel the lone tear trickling down her nose. As they broke apart, Hermione tried her hardest to smile as Bill ushered her into a seat next to Mr. Weasley.

Arthur Weasley's beam was hard to dim down as he saw Hermione take the seat next to him, and he greeted her enthusiastically. "Hermione! I'm so glad you came - what made you change your mind?" he asked inquisitively, but something inside Hermione made her wonder whether or not he already knew.

"What kind of a friend would I be if I missed Ron's wedding?" she asked, trying hard to keep her small smile in place, as she wasn't sure she would be able to muster a second one.

"Well, I'm glad you're here now - otherwise it might have been too late," he noted, glancing down at the programme lying on his lap.

"Too late for what? The wedding doesn't start for another..." Hermione trailed off, her question falling below the melody of the band as the wedding march came on. Mr. Weasley explained to her in a whisper what was going to happen, remembering back at Bill and Fleur's wedding how Hermione had been fascinated by the ceremony and reasoning behind all the traditions.

"I'm not too sure on all the details myself, but most of it was explained at the rehearsal the other day. Tiffany walks the first five steps slowly with her father, so that he can give her away from her childhood, where he had looked after her. They then take the next five steps separately, so that he can see her safely across to adulthood, to her husband, who will look after her now. Then she takes the final steps with her husband up to the altar."

Hermione wasn't quite sure what to make of this particular ritual, her mind was torn between her natural thoughts on a new subject and her feelings towards what would happen when the fifteen steps were over. It's as if she can't take care of herself! she thought scathingly. Having to be shuttled between men, constantly looked after. I bet the only thing a woman is expected to look after according to these rituals is the kitchen. I certainly won't have that at my wedding - I've already proven that I can look after myself, unlike Tiffany, Hermione thought snidely. But then, Tiffany is the one marrying Ron, not you.

Hermione was emerged from her thoughts by the soft nudge of Arthur Weasley at her side.

"Are you alright?" he whispered. "You don't look very well."

"I - I'm fine, thank you," Hermione whispered back, fanning herself with the programme of events. "It's just a little stuffy in here, that's all."

"Are you sure that's all? As if I didn't know better, I'd have said that it was something else," Mr. Weasley wondered quietly. "Especially as there's magically conducted ventilation in here - which reminds me, you must tell me how the Muggle ones work one day, Hermione! I got a look at one the other day, and it seems to be a contraction of twirling - but that's not important right now. You know, Hermione, if you give up, you'll never win. I know that you're rather accustomed to winning, and I'd hate for your streak to end," he told her, a small smile upon his face and a twinkle in his eye. "My son likes winning as well - but it often takes someone or something else to put him on the right path."

"Mr. Weasley, I don't understand," Hermione asked in the smallest of whispers. "Why are you telling me this? This is your son's wedding - don't you want him to be happy?"

"That's why I'm telling you."

Hermione felt more confused than ever, but when she looked at her side to see if Arthur's face revealed anything, she found it pointed to the altar, where Tiffany and Ron were on their third step. "I can't," she whispered, more to herself than Mr. Weasley. You have to, she told herself. If you don't do it now, you never will! Where's your Gryffindor courage?

"No," she said softly one last time, shaking her head. Gryffindor courage isn't saying something out loud. Gryffindor courage isn't even fighting a dragon or slaying a raging Rheltstone. Gryffindor courage is doing what's right, even if it's hard, even if you're scared, even if it's not what you want, she decided grimly.

Finally Hermione dared to look up, where she immediately met Ron's eyes. It seemed that they had completed the fourth and fifth steps, and were now up at the altar, waiting as the wizard read through the vows. But looking into his eyes, seeing his nervousness and anticipation hardened her resolve. Snape would be pleased - I finally learnt to hold my tongue, even if it breaks my heart, she thought with a wry smile.

"Hermione?" Arthur whispered enquiringly as he saw Hermione start to stand up.

"Sorry," she whispered through the glistening tears that were beginning to build up. And with that, looking up one last time at the altar, where Ron stood, she got up and left, walking as fast as she could without breaking into a run down the side of the pew. But not fast enough for Ron not to notice her, not fast enough for his feet not to want to follow his eyes.

Hermione peered into the window of Madam Malkin's, trying to find the sign that stated when she would return from her lunch break. Her lips turned down slightly as she couldn't find any notice or explanation, so she turned away, already deciding to make a comforting visit to Flourish and Blotts which she knew would always be open during lunch hour. Besides needing to go there for a specific book, she knew she could always wile away many a happy hour in the bookshop.

Hermione made her way through the crowded street, which was quite a challenge as there were a lot of children and parents weaving their way through the shops, finishing their last minute shopping in time for the start of the school year. It made Hermione smile to see them, especially the eleven year olds, many of whom had been waiting for this for years, others who were experiencing this all for the first time, but all of them had the same expression of awe, excitement and undiluted pleasure on their faces.

Eventually Hermione managed to reach Flourish and Blotts, and joined the long queue for the till, picking up 'Standard Book Of Spells Grade One' from the table stacking them near the door. She had planned on using the book she had brought on her very first visit to Diagon Alley, but hadn't realised until after their original trip with their daughter earlier that month that it had been updated, and that it was better to have the new edition. She had decided to make this second trip by herself, as she only needed to pick up the book and a cloak from Madam Malkin's and so didn't see much point in them all going, much to Emily's dismay.

As she was leaving the shop and putting the book into the carrier bag provided, Hermione's attention was distracted by a new display left of the door, and as she turned to get a better look she bumped into a man coming into the shop, whose attention was likewise distracted but in the opposite direction. As a result Hermione dropped not only her handbag, but the bag she'd being trying to put the book into, of which of course the book had fallen out. Hermione felt that she could only be grateful that she hadn't fallen as well, and that the man seemed to be as embarrassed as she was, as he didn't seem able to look her in the eye either.

"Sorry," she said, as he bent down next to her to help her pick up her belongings. It was only when she caught sight of his hands that Hermione looked at his face, and dropped everything again.

"No, I'm sorry, it was my fault, I wasn't looking where I was going," the man replied, handing the last of the bags back to Hermione, before offering a hand to help her to her feet. "How are you, Hermione?"

"I'm good thank you, Ron. How are you?"

"I'm good too."

After that came the unavoidable awkward silence, in which both Ron and Hermione shuffled their feet and willed their cheeks not to grow pink, and sought desperately for something neutral to say. Their words were too polite. Their touch was too familiar.

"I never thought I'd see the day when you would voluntarily set foot in a bookshop!" Hermione settled for saying, eventually. She wasn't sure why she had said that instead of something like she was in a rush, or ought to be going, or an excuse of the usual kind - but she didn't want to go. This was the first time in a long while that she had seen Ron, and that hurt. They had both let each other get away too many times in the past, and she was determined to make the most of any opportunity she got, no matter how small, or how bad she felt. She risked a look in his eyes - they were the same as the ones she had gotten lost in so many years before.

"No," Ron replied with a chuckle, "me neither - but it's only quickly, I just need to get one book and then I'll be gone!"

"Which one?" Hermione asked, for she couldn't help but be curious as to which book had lured Ron away from Quality Quidditch Supplies. She could smell his hair, the same as if she had just breathed in Amortentia not a minute before.

"'Standard Book of Spells, Grade One'."

Hermione wasn't sure how she felt at the news - a mixture of things, she supposed, as with a wry smile she pulled the book out of her recovered bag. The surprise on Ron's face was evident, and Hermione was pretty sure that he didn't know how to feel either. When it came to the other, neither ever knew how to feel. She wondered if that would ever change.

"So I suppose no one told you that I got married then?"

"No - no, I knew that," Ron admitted, although without mentioning to Hermione how he'd tossed and turned the entire night before, unsure of whether to go or not, unsure of whether he'd want to, of whether he'd be able to. He didn't tell Hermione how he hadn't been able to focus on anything all day as his eyes had been glued to any timepiece in the room, and when it reached twelve o'clock, the time the wedding was taking place, he'd had to walk outside for a breath of fresh air. He didn't add how he had ended up sitting down on a bench in a park nearby, his head between his knees, unable to breathe. "I heard all about it from Mum and Ginny." Hermione was surprised that Harry hadn't said anything, but Ron wasn't - Harry alone had known that it would hurt too much. "But I didn't know you'd had children - Merlin, eleven years ago!"

"Yes, it really has been too long," Hermione said sadly, drinking in the sound of the voice that she hadn't heard in too many years. "But you, too..." Hermione motioned to the 'Standard Book of Spells Grade One' that Ron had picked up from the table.

"Oh! No! No, I'm just picking it up for Harry, as he and Ginny are too busy. Since I was going to be here anyway today, I told him I'd pick it up for them."

Hermione felt herself let out a breath of air, although she wasn't entirely sure why - she hadn't realised that she'd been holding it in. "Oh, that's a shame, I thought our children might be in the same year. But I suppose yours are already at Hogwarts?"

"Uh, no, actually we don't have any children," Ron said, lowering his voice considerably so that Hermione had to lean in to hear clearly. As she did she tried to ignore the smell of his hair that was drifting around her, the same as if she had just breathed in Amortentia not a minute before. "Obviously we wanted them, but it turns out Tiffany can't have kids. She cried for weeks after we found out, but she refused to let St. Mungo's try anything to help - she said it was her punishment, she - " Ron coughed awkwardly, aware that he may have said too much. "But at least we've got all these nieces and nephews - Cathy and Eleanor are just great, aren't they?"

"Yes, yes they are," Hermione agreed, glad to be on a safer topic. Hermione found herself completely blown away by Ron's news, and unsure how to react, or how she felt, or of anything at all. "Emily and Eleanor are friends - Harry and I are secretly hoping that they'll be Gryffindors together in September, but of course we can't say that! Any house would be fine, we'll be proud of them whatever, naturally. But it would be nice if they were in our old one, if they were like we were - I suppose all parents feel like that," Hermione mused.

"I suppose," Ron agreed quietly, and Hermione immediately felt terrible for voicing that aloud - for of course, Ron wouldn't know.

"So - how have you been doing? With...everything?" Hermione noticed how neither of them had suggested moving from just standing in the corner of the bookshop and going for a coffee or a bite to eat - that would make it too informal, they wouldn't be just running into each other, they'd be friends again. Like old times. And that might just hurt too much.

"Fine - good! Work's going well, just finished doing up the kitchen - everything's fine. Good," Ron corrected himself shortly.

"Good." Hermione replied, just as shortly, suddenly looking away. They both knew that far more went unsaid - such as life was fine - good, even - but was it as good as it would be with each other? They both knew that those questions went unasked because they both knew the answers. "Well... I ought to be going," Hermione said finally, noting that Ron probably hadn't missed the hint of sadness in her voice that she had been unable to disguise.

"Yeah, me too, I told Harry I'd get this to him before lunch, and I've still got stuff to do..." Ron agreed, scuffing his shoes against the firm wooden floor. "It's been great to see you though."

"Yes, we must meet up properly soon," Hermione said, although she knew that they never would.

"Yeah, definitely." Ron knew it too. "Well - goodbye."

Ron offered his hand to Hermione once more; it seemed so alien, so formal, not a farewell gesture of two people who had been best friends since the age of eleven. It was more like the gesture of two people who were almost strangers.

"Goodbye." Hermione accepted his hand for the briefest of shakes.

Those were the last words that Ron and Hermione said to each other as they each turned and walked away in opposite directions, their eyes focused on the floor - Ron towards the till, Hermione towards the door. Both of them longing to turn around - but walking straight ahead. Both of them wishing to say the words not spoken; I missed you, I loved you, I still do - words that would be forever left unsaid. Both of them walking away from what could have been, just walking straight ahead.