Saturday dawned sunny and mild, the pavilions in the Burrow’s backyard blanketed in a shimmering layer of dew and mist. The birds twittered sleepily in the trees, and the wind tickled the flowers that bedecked the back porch and tables. Across the green expanse of the lawn, the small, furry figure of Crookshanks stalked an unsuspecting squirrel. The Burrow itself, usually a hotbed of activity, was still drowsing peacefully, preparing itself for the big day. Well, except for “
“You know, Ginny, I think we may regret getting up so early later on today,” Hermione whispered as they snuck down the kitchen stairs.
“Oh, Hermione, do you always have to be so damn practical?!?!?” Ginny whispered back as she prepared enormous mugs of coffee. “Besides, trust me on this “ the next half an hour will be the only time today you’ll be able to hear yourself think. Plus, you can use this time to reflect on how sorry you are for me that I have to do every single thing Phlegm tells me to do for the next twelve hours. I really ought to give you my wand for safe keeping so I don’t hex her into oblivion.”
They made their way outside and settled on the porch swing. Hermione tucked her feet underneath her and sipped her coffee. Ginny was right, this was relaxing, especially taking into consideration the previous evening. Hermione still wasn’t sure what was more perplexing “ Percy’s sudden return home or Ron’s gallantry towards her.
“So…” Ginny began, “Percy? Any thoughts from the cleverest witch of our generation?” She intoned in a mock-announcer voice, doing a very good Rita Skeeter impersonation, sucking on an imaginary quill.
“No, not yet,” Hermione replied, chewing her lip, “And, I think we should make a solemn gentle-witches’ pact to dispense with any and all Percy-related or serious conversations of any type until after this evening.” She paused, continued, “So! What are we going to do with your hair?!? Even better, what are we going to do with mine?!?” But as Ginny laughed and shook her hand, Hermione’s mind was still troubled.
* * *
I suppose it looks alright, Hermione thought as she spun around in front of Ginny’s mirror. She never felt quite herself when she got dressed up, and her violet-colored dress was very simple. Dressing formally didn’t really suit her. Not like Fleur, she thought as she turned around to look at the bride.
Fleur really was breath-taking. Her shimmering hair was gathered on her head in hundreds of perfect ringlets, topped with the crown of her veil. She looks almost like royalty, Hermione thought admiringly, if a touch jealously, as Fleur stood by the window in the late afternoon sun, her ivory gown sweeping elegantly to the floor in a fan of satin. Ginny looks terrific too, she thought, smiling at her friend, who, with the help of Gabrielle Delacour, was adjusting the bustle on Fleur’s gown. Her fiery hair was mostly down, hanging in a red waterfall down her back. In the front and on the sides, Hermione had weaved several ribbons into the braids coiled away from her face, which matched Ginny’s golden bridesmaid’s dress.
“’Ermione, I just wanted to zank you so much for your azistence today,” Fleur beamed at her.
“Yeah, Hermione, zanks so much,” Ginny muttered as she magicked several pins into the back of Fleur’s gown. Hermione stifled a giggle and shot Ginny a warning look. Ginny stuck her tongue out, unnoticed by either of the Delacours, and Hermione shook her head.
“Your hair looks very preety,” Fleur gesturing at Hermione, “Zat is a very clever charm. You will be doing zo well at ‘Ogwarts zis year, no doubt!” At this, Ginny and Hermione exchanged glances again, but she tried to push the worry out of her mind. Instead, she turned back to the mirror to confirm Fleur’s compliment. Hermione had decided to embrace her hair’s, well, insanity, and left it down. She had performed a nifty little spell, and thousands of violet, silver and white rhinestones glittered amidst the brown sea of waves and curls.
“Well, Ginny, Gabrielle, we’d better ‘ead down. I see Mama waving at us!” Fleur marched regally from the room, her bridesmaids trailing (in Ginny’s case, reluctantly) behind her.
Hermione wandered over to the window and gazed down at the yard. Harry would be arriving momentarily to escort her to her seat, as each of their dates was a member of the wedding party. Date! Hermione chuckled, Ron Weasley is my date! Her eyes roamed over the crowd of well-dressed guests, and she spotted several people she knew that hadn’t been at dinner last night “ Professor McGonagall, Kingsley Shacklebolt from the Ministry, and Angelina Johnson, who appeared to be Fred’s date “ before she finally found him.
He was by the front of where the guests were seating themselves, horsing around with Charlie, who was also standing for Bill. She couldn’t help but cluck to herself he was wrinkling his dress robes that way. Bill was looking a bit green, and Mr. Weasley was adjusting his tie for him soothingly. Ron stopped goofing off and squared his shoulders. He did look handsome, that was certain. But not exactly like the Ron Weasley she knew, either. There seemed to be a new person emerging from the boy she’d known, not completely changed, but not entirely the same either. She supposed she had changed a bit herself. Something old, something new…she thought ruefully, and smiled to herself. There was a creak as the door opened behind her.
“Wow! Nice hair!” Harry was standing in the doorway, looking pretty spiffy himself. He proffered his arm to her.
“Thanks,” she replied, linking her arm in his, “But wait’ll you see Ginny’s.”
* * *
The wedding ceremony passed in a fuzzy warm blur for Hermione. The only two things that really stood out in her head were Harry’s gasp beside her when Ginny marched down the aisle, and the fact that Ron, who was standing in front of his entire family and guests, hadn’t taken his eyes off her the entire time.
Hermione mingled with the other guests as the bride, groom, wedding party and their families got formal photos taken. She waved and smiled at her classmates, friends and teachers as she made her way over to a quiet bench off to the side of the main action. She was very content, sitting and observing the guests laughing and chatting happily, everyone looking like ethereal, otherworldly versions of their normal selves. Lupin looking younger than ever in his simple dress robes, and was that Tonks in a flowing silver party dress?!? Even McGonagall looked less severe then usual. She was jolted out of her bemusement by the sound of someone approaching. Her heart jumped into her throat. It was Ron.
“Hey, I found you,” he shuffled his feet, sat down next to her. His knee was touching her and he was staring at her. Then he said something decidedly odd. “I may never be able to eat again.” He shook is head, as if to clear it.
She was extraordinarily confused. “Were you looking for dinner or for me?”
“Oh, well, erm, you know, I was looking for you, not dinner, I haven’t had much of an appetite recently,” he finished lamely. This was so out of character Hermione was at a loss. Thankfully Ron continued. “Not that you were particularly hard to find.” He gestured to her hair.
“Rhinestones; an improvement on pancakes, I hope?” What she really hoped was this was how you flirted with your best-friend-turned-guy-you-fancied.
“No. I mean, yes. I mean, I’m glad you left it down. You look more like yourself that way,” he concluded. Oh, god, if either one of them got any more nervous, they might spontaneously combust. He sidled a bit closer to her on the bench, and her stomach went warm and tingly. “You know, I was just thinking about trolls.”
Her stomach cooled a bit in confusion. “Ron, it’s official. I have no idea what you are talking about.”
“Well,” he began, and put his hand under her hair, touching her neck, “Well, I was just thinking, that if Harry and I hadn’t saved you from that mountain troll first year, I may, to this day, just think of you, as, well…”
“An insufferable know-it-all?” She offered, her voice sounding nothing like her own, sort of breathy and small. He nodded. “But I am an insufferable know-it-all.” The world had become his hand on her neck, his blue eyes inches from her own.
“Yes, yes you are,” he laughed, putting his other hand on her cheek. “But, you’re my insufferable-know-it-all, Hermione Granger.” And then he was kissing her, and the world got even smaller, just his lips, his breath, and the feeling of his heart beating against hers.
The Time is Now by Hermione816
Chapter Notes: All intrigue is put on hold for the next three chapters as we celebrate l'amour! Watch your favorite couple-that-loves-to-argue finally share a moment of sweet silence...