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.
No Other Way by Oppungo
Chapter Notes: Many thanks to Ravensgryff who (a long time ago!) came up with the idea of it being Mr. Weasley who would try and talk to Hermione...