DISCLAIMER: If I actually owned any of these characters, you would not be reading this for free! We all know this is all thanks to JKR!
The morning of the wedding dawned clear and bright. The entire Weasley family, minus Bill, Harry and Hermione had spent most of the morning helping Mrs. Weasley transform the backyard and garden into a magical paradise for the wedding. Mr. Weasley and Charlie transfigured nearly a hundred small stones into rows of white chairs lining a satin roll of cloth (previously an old potato sack), which was serving as an aisle. Mrs. Weasley was muttering an incantation that Harry had never before heard to cause beautiful flowers to erupt from the ground and climb over a trellis where the vows were to be said. Fred and George were assigned the task of setting up the dance floor, though they appeared to be trying it out more than setting it up. The girls were decorating the circular dinner tables that surrounded the dance floor with the elaborate settings that Fleur had picked out. (She had spent most of the previous day ensuring that Hermione and Ginny knew how to properly set tables.) This left the task of cleaning the garden to Ron and Harry, which Ron was most aggrieved by because this was the only task you couldn’t do with magic.
“De-gnoming,” he grumbled under his breath. “Ginny can’t even legally do magic yet and she gets to set the tables!” Ron flung a gnome that had just bitten his finger with probably more force than was exactly necessary. “I could have set the table in about thirty seconds!”
“True, but Fleur didn’t spend a whole afternoon teaching you which fork to eat your salad with,” Harry rightfully pointed out, painfully stealing a glance in Ginny’s direction. Harry thought she looked adorable as she screwed up her face, obviously trying to remember whether Fleur had told her to set side plates on the left or the right.
By the time the outside of the Weasley house was set to rights, the members of the household were left with only a few hours to get ready; meaning, the chaos the house usually endured rose to an all-time high. Hiding in Ron’s room, Harry and Ron could hear all the commotion echoing up from downstairs.
“Ginny, I have no idea where your dress shoes are!” Mrs. Weasley shouted at her frantic daughter. Harry could hear Ginny knocking something over and then screaming, “Found them! Found them!” before running back up the stairs.
“Mum! How do you tie these things?” Fred’s voice asked causally about the bow ties that Fleur insisted they wear, causing Mrs. Weasley to let out a hassled sounding sigh.
“Arthur!” Harry and Ron heard a resounding crash followed by a strangled scream.
“Who left the coat rack in the middle of the floor?” Mr. Weasley bellowed up the stairs.
Harry heard a door open, followed by Ginny’s voice. “Sorry, Dad!” she shouted as her door quickly slammed shut again.
Ron chuckled to himself as he tended to the finishing touches on his black dress robes. “Wonder how Hermione’s handling the commotion. I haven’t heard her voice in a while now.”
“I’m sure she’s fine,” Harry replied distractedly, lying on his cot as he had finished dressing over half and hour ago. “She’s stayed here plenty of times.” Harry didn’t notice Ron’s nervousness regarding his appearance. He continued to flip through the pages of the Quidditch magazine he was perusing, which wasn’t keeping his mind off Ginny nearly as well as he had hoped it would. He was dreading the moment she walked down the aisle, knowing that she would be the most beautiful girl there, and knowing he had to pretend as though he didn’t notice.
“Boys! Get down here now! The guests are starting to arrive!” Mrs. Weasley shouted up the stairs. Ron and his brothers were ushers for the wedding. Their job was to get everyone into their seats before the ceremony started. Mrs. Weasley had asked if Harry minded helping them; which, of course, he didn’t, even though he had no idea what to do with himself at a wedding.
“Coming, Mum!” Ron shouted through the open door as he made his way towards the stairs with one last backwards glance towards the mirror.
Being an usher wasn’t nearly as difficult as Harry thought it might be. As the guests arrived, he asked, “Are you guests of the bride or the groom?” Guests of the bride were seated on the left; guests of the groom were seated on the right. The front two rows on each side were reserved for the bridal party and close family. Harry was starting to get used to the idea of offering his arm to the arriving guests when Hermione arrived. The commotion in the house earlier had obviously not affected Hermione’s dressing abilities. Her hair was twisted smoothly into an elegant knot with tendrils left to fall softly about her face. She was wearing new pink dress robes, which definitely flattered her. If Harry thought Hermione had looked beautiful, it was no comparison to what Ron was obviously thinking. He dropped the arm of the girl he was escorting halfway down the aisle and rushed back to greet Hermione.
“Hermione, you look...beautiful…” Ron stumbled over his words and cast his eyes downward as he trailed off, the tips of his ears going pink.
“Thanks, Ron,” Hermione returned coyly. “You look very handsome yourself.” Ron’s chest visibly swelled. His eyes only for Hermione, he completely disregarded his seating responsibilities as the line of guests started piling up behind her.
“C’mon Ron,” Fred scolded cheerily, taking the arm of a pretty French girl who was waiting behind Hermione.
“Yes, Ronnikins,” George continued, winking, “escort Miss Granger and get back here. The wedding’s about to start.”
Harry had made his way over to welcome his friend, when a voice he dimly remembered interrupted his greeting.
“Herm-own-ninny?” the voice from halfway down the line of guests caused Ron’s jaw to drop.
“Viktor?” Hermione spun so quickly she almost fell over. Harry couldn’t decide whether her expression was ecstatic or crestfallen. Her jaw dropped, just as Ron’s had, and she was staring unbelievingly at the person standing behind her.
“Careful, Miss Granger,” warned Professor McGonagall poking out from behind Krum, the edges of her mouth uncharacteristically twitching upwards, “it’s Professor Krum now.”
Hermione’s mouth worded soundlessly for a moment as she shot a look from Professor McGonagall to Krum before she managed to squeak out, “Really? Congratulations Viktor…uh, I mean, Professor...Krum.”
“Viktor, please, Herm-own-ninny,” Krum responded with what Harry could only assume was a smile. He was taller than Harry remembered, and definitely broader. But his face still appeared to have that surly expression, even when smiling. The musicians were just about to start as Krum reached for Hermione’s arm. “Dance vith me later? I haff to speak vith you.” Krum released Hermione as he turned to be ushered towards his seat by Charlie.
Hermione turned slowly towards the row of seats with a hurried glance towards Ron. Harry noticed that Ron looked anything but happy. With a scowl, he offered Hermione his arm and led her down the aisle, followed by Harry, to seats in the second row. Hermione looked back at Harry with a look that clearly communicated Help!
“See you guys after the wedding,” Ron mumbled dejectedly before turning and stomping down the aisle to usher the remaining people into their seats.
“Ron,” Hermione ventured, worriedly turning in her chair. Ron either didn’t hear her, or he ignored her, because he continued his march back up the aisle.
“Oh no! Oh no! Oh no!” Hermione started, wringing her hands. “Why today? Of all days, why today?” Hermione dropped her face into her hands. “And why no warning?” she continued, though now more muffled. “How could no one tell me? Fleur must have known Viktor and I were…” here Hermione trailed off, blushing.
“Fleur probably invited Krum because of the Tri-wizard Tournament,” Harry replied thoughtfully, but was cut off with a look from Hermione.
“Well, obviously!” she returned maddeningly, her head shooting out of her hands. “But how could no one tell me! What were Bill and Fleur thinking?”
“Does what you said about Ron at my aunt and uncle’s house still go, Hermione?” Harry asked seriously, trying a different tack.
“Of course it does,” Hermione snapped back. “Did you think my seeing Viktor again would just sweep me off my feet and make me forget about Ron?” Hermione asked, irritation flooding her voice. Harry tried, unsuccessfully, to hide his laughter. “Just what is so funny?” Hermione demanded. “This is serious, Ron is going to...he’ll...” but Harry was laughing so hard now he couldn’t hear the rest of Hermione’s speech. “What?” she almost shouted at him.
Harry controlled his laughter because people were starting to stare at them. “It’s just, well, this could only happen to you and Ron.” Hermione’s face broke and she giggled reluctantly.
“I guess that’s true,” she said exasperated, leaning back into her chair. “But, what a pain in the - ”
“Hermione!” Harry interjected, pretending to be aghast.
“Well, it is!” she shot back, just as the procession started.
Harry couldn’t remember much of the wedding ceremony. He recalled Mrs. Weasley being escorted down the aisle on Fred’s arm, followed closely by Gabrielle on George’s arm. Harry could remember Gabrielle waving shyly in his direction. He knew that the best man, Charlie, must have escorted Fleur’s mother down the aisle. And, he knew that shortly afterwards Fleur and her father would have followed. He knew at some point the vows must have been said because shortly afterwards Hermione jabbed him in the rib and hissed, “Close your mouth and stand up! The ceremony is over!” He dimly recalled standing as the wedding procession made its happy way back up the aisle, led by the new Mr. and Mrs. Bill Weasley. But in all honesty, the moment Ginny came into view, the occurrence of the coming events was wiped completely from his conscious mind.
Ginny floated down the aisle on the arm of her brother Ron. Her pale gold dress robes hugged her form in a very appealing way, accentuating every curve. Her brilliant red hair was loosely pinned back, and the tresses that were escaping curled softly unto her shoulders. Harry felt as though he had been robbed of his breath. Tight bands wove through his chest and his heart ached as his eyes compelled him to stare at what he was sure was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. Attempting to force thoughts, which he was sure her family members would not approve of, out of his mind; Harry was oblivious to the vows being spoken before him.
“Harry! Harry!” Hermione had grabbed Harry’s arm and was attempting to steer him through the crowd towards their table at the reception area.
“Is it over?” he asked, confused.
“Yes. Weren’t you paying attention?” Hermione asked, clearly amused. “Or should I say, weren’t you paying attention to the wedding? It was obvious you were paying close attention to something,” she added smugly, barely concealing her satisfaction.
Harry looked over at Hermione sheepishly. “She did look gorgeous,” he said quietly, not making eye contact.
“You know, it wouldn’t be all that suspicious, a dance or two…” Hermione returned suggestively.
Harry swallowed hard, “If she were close to me...in my arms...” He gulped. “No, definitely not.”
“Really, Harry,” Hermione snorted, “you are such a prat.”
“Oh hello, Viktor!” Harry said to no one in particular as he glanced over Hermione’s shoulder.
Hermione jumped up and spun around, finding Krum already over at the bar chatting with Professor Sprout. Harry laughed heartily as Hermione glared up at him. “Point made,” she mumbled as she reluctantly grabbed Harry’s arm and dragged him over to their table.
Harry and Hermione sat themselves at one of the back corner tables. Ron, Ginny, and the rest of the wedding party were seated at the largest front table, facing the dance floor. Harry could just make out Ron’s worried and furtive glances towards Hermione from where he was sitting.
“Herm-own-ninny.” This time it really was Krum speaking from just over Hermione’s shoulder.
“Hello, Viktor,” Hermione began brightly, glancing nervously at the head table. Ron was thankfully focusing on the appetizer, which had just been served.
“Her-own-ninny, could I haff a vord?” Krum asked, inclining his head toward the nearby garden.
“Of course, Viktor. Why don’t you sit down,” Hermione gestured to the empty chair next to her with one hand, while grabbing Harry’s hand under the table with the other, preventing the escape he had just been planning. Hermione quickly glanced imploring at Harry.
Krum looked slightly put out. “I vas hoping….” but he gave up on this sentence and decided to take the seat Hermione had offered to him. “How haff you been, Herm-own-ninny? You look beautiful tonight.”
“Very well, thank you,” Hermione said, slightly more formally than Harry knew Krum would have preferred. Harry, realizing he was going to have to sit through this possibly long (and definitely uncomfortable) conversation, began shoveling mouthfuls of the appetizer that had just materialized on his plate. “Congratulations again on your new job, Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher I’m assuming?” Hermione continued energetically.
“Yes. I applied a few weeks ago,” Krum’s eyes were now searching Hermione’s. “I vas most pleased vith Minerva McGonagall’s decision. I vas also most upset vith the news of Headmaster Dumbledore’s death,” Krum stopped to reach for Hermione’s hand, which she allowed him to take. “I am so sorry.”
A familiar, and unpleasant, pang hit Harry’s stomach at the mention of his headmaster’s recent death. He was sure it hit Hermione, too. “Thank you, Viktor,” Hermione responded quietly; her eyes cast downwards, “it…it was...” Hermione trailed off, unable to continue.
For the first time, Harry was aware of just how much history Hermione and Krum shared. He had always suspected that they were more than just friends during his forth year of Hogwarts; but, he assumed it had stopped at just that. Harry never considered the possibility that those long letters Hermione constantly penned to Krum contained any feelings of significance.
“Vhat I vanted to ask you, Herm-own-ninny,” Krum continued, once again seeking her downcast eyes, “is what should I tell Minerva…”
Hermione drew her hand from under Krum’s. “Viktor, we wrote about this over a year ago. We said we’re just friends. There is nothing to tell Professor McGonagall,” Hermione said softly, but firmly, meeting Krum’s eyes.
“Ve veren’t alvays just friends, Herm-own-ninny,” Krum responded, a brusque grin emerging. “Minerva realizes this.”
“But, that’s what we are now,” Hermione replied fondly. “We are good friends, but just friends.”
Krum nodded solemnly. “As you vish, Herm-own-ninny,” Krum replied quietly as he stood to depart. “Save me von dance, for the old times?”
Hermione nodded, smiling.
Harry and Hermione finished their meal in relative silence, each lost in their own thoughts, and each glancing furtively from time to time towards a member of the wedding party. Ron had appeared to have finally finished his meal just as the music started up again inviting the dancers onto the floor. Hermione quickly excused herself and hurried over to his side, leaving Harry alone at the table. Harry couldn’t blame her for wanting to speak with Ron as quickly as possible, he had the same desire to approach Ginny, and he was trying very hard to control it.
“Hello, dear,” came a sympathetic voice Harry knew well.
“Hello, Mrs. Weasley,” Harry returned, putting on his best smile, even though his insides felt completely deflated. “The wedding is wonderful.”
“Oh, I’m so glad you’re enjoying yourself,” she returned excitedly, taking the empty seat next to Harry. “Though, perhaps some dancing…” Mrs. Weasley suggested slowly, inclining her eyes towards her only daughter. “It looks as though Ginny is free at the moment.” So far, Harry had painfully noticed, Ginny had been the life of the dance floor. Harry gave up counting how many dance partners she had after the third French chap.
“Well, I’m sure there’s plenty of blokes who’ll be asking her in no time,” Harry was trying hard to keep the bitterness out of his voice; he wasn’t sure if he succeeded. He knew Ginny was just putting on her best face for her brother’s wedding; however it still killed him to see her in the arms of all those other men.
“But, we both know who she’d rather be dancing with...” Mrs. Weasley started tentatively.
“And, who’d rather be dancing with her,” Mr. Weasley, appearing from behind a corner interjected, a knowing smile on his face. He handed Harry a tall glass of fire whiskey.
Harry found himself yet again amazed at how unsuccessfully he had managed to hide his feelings. He thought about insisting that he had no idea what they were talking about, but he knew they wouldn’t believe him. “I’m just trying to keep her safe,” he said quietly, examining his spoon.
“We know that, Harry,” Mr. Weasley said, softly clapping a hand on Harry’s shoulder.
“And we also know what it is to be afraid to lose someone you love,” Mrs. Weasley continued. “We have fought this war before...” Mrs. Weasley stopped for a deep breath. “And, we have entered this war again, this time with practically our entire family fighting.” Harry’s heart skipped a beat as he remembered the boggart that Mrs. Weasley tried to rid the Black house of only two years ago. He remembered her weeping as the boggart shape-shifted into the various members of her family, Harry included, portraying them all dead…
“We are all in danger, Harry,” Mr. Weasley picked up, “and we would be whether we knew you or not.”
“We love you as one of our own, and no matter what you decide, you will always be welcome as one of our family. We just thought we should remind you of that, dear,” Mrs. Weasley hugged him before putting on an enthusiastic smile. “Now, Arthur, I believe you owe me a dance.”
Harry watched from his table as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley rotated in the center of the dance floor to a slow song Harry had never heard before. He noticed Ginny dancing with yet another random French idiot off in the corner. Bill and Fleur appeared glued together, giggling like children and gracefully spinning. Harry noticed Ron and Hermione talking in another corner; Krum was nowhere in sight. Though Ron still looked stiff, he had a grin on his face and Harry was sure Hermione put it there. Harry smiled in spite of himself. Although he was miserable without Ginny, he was happy the Weasley family could have this night together. He was happy they could enjoy a moment of peace before the war swept in and tumbled their lives again. At that, he rose from the table and made his way over to Fleur’s younger sister, Gabrielle.
“May I have this dance?” Harry asked the younger girl that had shyly waved to him during the wedding ceremony. She immediately obliged.
Harry danced with several of Fleur’s friends, Gabrielle twice, Hermione, and even Mrs. Weasley before he decided to turn in for the night. Hermione and Ron still appeared on tenterhooks, but Harry suspected that with a few more glasses of fire whiskey they would come into their own. Hermione had skillfully avoided Krum since their last conversation and Harry was sure Ron had appreciated it. Harry made his way up through the garden and into the Burrow, allowing himself to sink into the living room couch and smiling as he relived images of Ginny from that night that were now attacking his brain.
“Ronald Weasley, you are a complete and utter git!” Hermione screamed shrilly, pushing through the Burrow’s kitchen door, her hair flying out of the elegant knot it was twisted into. Harry sank deeper into the couch, hoping not to be noticed.
“Is that so?” Ron demanded angrily, throwing the door that was threatening to collide with him in a back swing crashing into the adjoining wall. “I’m not the one throwing myself around like some sort of scarlet…”
“Excuse me! Who do you think you are, calling me…” Hermione rounded on him angrily, her eyes flashing dangerously. “I’m not a child, Ron!” Hermione screamed, throwing her head back. “Or, hadn’t you noticed?”
“Vicky certainly has,” Ron replied heatedly.
“And what does that matter?” Hermione responded coldly.
“What right does he have to…to…” Ron continued, sputtering nonsensically.
“Right! Right?” Hermione screamed derisively. “Just what right do you think you have?” Hermione continued her angry testimonial. “Just one dance and you explode! One respectful, tasteful, public dance! I can only imagine what you’d do if you walked in on anything more-” but here Hermione broke off, perhaps aware that she may have gone too far.
“So, that’s what you’re planning! Something more?” Ron returned scathingly. “How nice for Vicky,” he added maliciously.
“Don’t you dare try to make it appear as though I’m looking for some...some...”
“Senseless shagging?” Ron interjected viciously.
Hermione opened her mouth to retort, angry red blotches covering her face, but no words came out. Instead, she turned on her heel and attempted to exit via the stairs when Ron caught her hand. Both stopped instantaneously and Harry could hear their heavy breathing.
“Hermione, please…” Harry noticed, with a turn in his stomach, that Ron was pleading.
“Ron,” Hermione wiped a stray tear from her cheek before turning to face him, her voice sounding strangled, “just what rights do you want to have with me?” Hermione seemed to be begging for Ron to answer.
Ron faltered, breaking eye contact and appearing as though he were searching about the room frantically. He dropped her hand.
Hermione released an exhausted sigh as she turned back towards the stairwell.
“Hermione!” Ron sounded desperate. He closed the gap between them in one stride, shakily placing his hands on her bare shoulders. He gently turned her to face him. Hermione didn’t bother to hide the tears that were falling from her eyes as she slowly raised her chin.
“Yes, Ron?” she whispered.
Hermione gasped softly as Ron covered her mouth with his own. Harry looked away pointedly as Hermione began softly responding to Ron’s kisses. Her hands migrated to his hair as his arms snaked around her waist…
“Harry?” Ginny’s small form came bursting through the kitchen door. “Oh!” she stopped suddenly at finding her brother and best friend in such a compromising situation. “Hi, Ron…Hermione…”
Ron had spun suddenly at Ginny’s rushed entrance as Hermione buried her reddened face into the back of Ron’s robes. Ron mouthed soundlessly and Hermione said, in an extremely muffled voice, “Hello, Ginny…”
“I was just looking for Harry,” Ginny continued, giggling furiously. “I’ll just be...going…” Harry could hear her laughter as soon as the door swung shut. He wanted to immediately run to her, but he would rather be at the end of a thousand of her Bat-Bogey Hexes than have Ron and Hermione realize what he had just witnessed.
Ron slowly spun back to face Hermione, his head hung. It looked as though Hermione had finally gone speechless. Harry made a mental note, all you had to do to get Hermione to stop lecturing was have Ron snog her senseless.
“Hermione, I…” Ron started in a strangled voice, “I...I’m…sorry, I shouldn’t have done...”
“Ron,” Hermione whispered.
He swallowed hard as he looked up hopefully, meeting her gaze.
“What took you so long?” she asked, laughing softly, her hands once again playing in his hair.
“I…what?” Ron began, frantically searching her eyes in disbelief. “You mean…”
Hermione spared him the trouble of finding the words he was so desperately searching for by kissing him softly on the lips. “I’ve waited a long time to be able to do that,” she breathed, her eyes held closed as Ron hands returned to her sides. “That is, I mean…” Hermione’s eyes flashed in self-doubt, “if this is something you’d want to…keep doing…” she finished weakly, allowing her eyes to stray towards her shoes.
“I don’t think I’ll ever want to stop,” Ron replied eagerly, wrapping his arms tighter around Hermione. Her face shot upward in a smile.
After several more minutes, which Harry hoped to erase from his memory, Hermione thankfully suggested a walk through the garden. The moment the doorway was clear, Harry made his way to find Ginny. As he ran past the garden, mercifully unnoticed, he wondered why Ginny wanted to speak with him. Harry was still discomfited with their last conversation. He felt guilty that he hadn’t told her anything and miserable that he couldn’t comfort her; but he conscience still told him he was doing the right thing.
Harry was just coming up to the dance floor, which had drastically emptied since he had last left it, when he saw her. Ginny was alone, standing across the floor by the bandstand of self-playing musical instruments, sipping a glass of wine. She still looked beautiful. Her eyes had just locked onto his as Mrs. Weasley quietly ushered Mr. Weasley, Tonks, Lupin, Moody, and Charlie (the only guests still remaining) towards the house. Harry gulped as he crossed the empty dance floor towards Ginny.
“You still haven’t danced with me you know,” Ginny whispered tenderly as he reached her.
Harry said nothing as he starred at her. The starlight was reflecting in her eyes, mesmerizing him. Without warning, the band instruments began a slow, swaying tune. Harry grinned inwardly, assuming one of the departing guests was trying to tell him something.
“It looks like there’s still one more dance,” Ginny said hopefully, extending her arms towards him. He had no choice but to allow his aching arms to embrace her. Harry had never before enjoyed dancing, but he had never before danced with Ginny. His heart was beating rapidly, despite the slow melody they were swaying to, as he inhaled her flowery scent.
“You’re leaving tomorrow, aren’t you?” Ginny asked quietly, her head buried in his shoulder.
Harry nodded slowly. He wasn’t surprised Ginny knew this; she was able to read him so well.
“I wanted to say goodbye,” Ginny said, her voice faltering. “Say goodbye to Ron and Hermione for me? Last time I saw them, they were rather busy,” Ginny giggled weakly.
They spun slowly in silence for a moment, each relishing the closeness that they would not feel again for an unknown length of time. The song ended softly and Harry broke apart from Ginny. Her words stopped him as he turned to leave.
“By the way, Harry,” Ginny started hastily, apparently not wanting the moment to end, “Hogwarts is officially closed. As of a few hours ago,” she added in response to his inquiring look. “Professor McGonagall told me just a little while ago. Her plan is still to use the manor they located near Hogsmeade. So, I’ll be there within a week if you want to write…” Ginny finished despondently, the shine dying from her eyes as tears advanced to replace it.
“Why so soon?” Harry asked, diverting his gaze from hers. “Term never starts until September first.”
“Professor McGonagall asked most of us to return early to help set up the manor,” Ginny shrugged, “There’s not much I can do from here…”
“Be careful, Ginny,” Harry said tenderly, moving closer to her. He leaned down to give her a chaste kiss goodbye. As their lips brushed, Harry felt a soft, yet resounding, vibration sweep through his body and warmth emanate from the small stone attached to a leather band that he now wore constantly around his neck. Ginny gasped softly as they both pulled away. He was sure she had felt it too, and he had a feeling they both knew what it meant, but he couldn’t find the words to voice it just now. Instead, whispering goodbye, he turned from her and started his walk towards the Burrow.
“Oh, and Ginny,” Harry turned once more to face her, “of course I’ll write…”
A/N: So what did you think? Did you guess the effects of the Trocair Charm yet? Thanks goes out, once again, to my excellent beta reader Asphyxiated. As always, reviews are appreciated! Thanks for reading! ~ozma333