“Immature love says, ‘I love you because I need you.’ Mature love says, ‘I need you because I love you.’” “ Erich Fromm
Ron awoke the following morning curled up on the newly carpeted floor of the nursery. Stretching his aching joints, he looked around him with pride: Ginny and Harry could not fail to be pleased with his efforts. When he shuffled, yawning, to the kitchen to make some breakfast, he heard a loud tapping on the window. Turning to squint in the direction of the bright sunlight streaming through the window, he glimpsed a feathery something outside, banging to come in.
When he opened the window and let the owl in, Ron realised it was an official owl of some sort: it had a tag around its left leg emblazoned with a brilliant blue logo. Shifting his eyes into focus, Ron recognised the logo as that of the TeleWizion company, and he groaned, plonking the owl down rather unceremoniously on the work surface. It seemed that the owl was not prepared to wait for Ron to get around to releasing the letter it was clutching in its beak, instead preferring to zoom at his head in a bid to get his attention.
“Ow! Alright, alright, I’ll take the letter,” Ron yelled, grabbing the owl and snatching the letter. “There, happy now?” The owl soared out of the window and Ron, irritated, slammed the window behind it. He proceeded to open the letter, slightly wary of what it might tell him, but it was only a few lines long.
‘Dear Mr Weasley,
We are pleased to inform you that you and your partner, Miss Granger, have been voted back into the final of our esteemed dance competition, Strictly Come Dancing. You may perform three dances in the final, two from your existing repertoire, followed by a final freestyle show-dance, in which you may perform a maximum of four lifts.
However, we have so far been unable to communicate this message to Miss Granger, as our owls appear unable to locate her. We hope that you will kindly inform her yourself, and we look forward to seeing both you and Miss Granger on Saturday morning at 8:00 am for rehearsals.
Congratulations and keep on dancing!’
Ron read through the letter once more, then screwed it up and threw it in the bin. Why couldn’t they get through to Hermione? They were ‘unable to locate her’? What did that mean? How did they expect him to contact her, when he no longer had an owl (Pigwidgeon having taken rather a liking to the female owl belonging to Gabrielle Delacour, and apparently preferring her company to Ron’s)? Of course, the owl the previous night had managed to get Hermione’s book from her, but if the TeleWizion company couldn’t contact her, it seemed unlikely that the same bird could find her now, especially since Alex was probably doing his utmost to cut off all contact. He couldn’t use Hedwig, she was too old for deliveries now, and Ginny did not have an owl. But he needed to let Hermione know about the final, or he’d be turning up on Saturday morning alone. There was nothing for it: he’d have to go and drag Pig back from his ladylove.
Ron found a small pinch of Floo powder in a pot on the mantelpiece and, with some trepidation, threw it in the grate and shouted, “Maison d’Amore, London!” Trust Fleur to name her house ‘House of Love’ in French, even though it was a modest detached house in central London. Gabrielle, he knew, had been living with Bill and Fleur since coming to England, working alongside her sister at Gringotts.
Ron shot out onto the rich mahogany wood floor of his brother’s living room, causing a shower of soot to settle on a lush cream rug
“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, Ron!” said a familiar voice. Ron looked up to see his eldest brother in a dressing gown, staring aghast at the mess on the rug.
“Morning, Bill,” Ron muttered, getting to his feet and brushing more soot off himself (onto the rug). Bill groaned and glared irritably at his youngest brother.
“You’d best get out of here quick, unless you want a scorned French woman’s wrath coming down on you,” Bill told him, slipping out of the room and returning with a dustpan. “What are you doing here anyway?”
“I need Pig,” Ron said breathlessly, and he proceeded to explain about his urgent need to contact Hermione. Bill waved his wand casually and the dustpan proceeded to sweep up most of the soot.
“Come back in about three hours or so, Gabrielle generally doesn’t surface until around lunchtime”
“I really need him as soon as possible,” Ron pleaded. “Come on, Bill, can’t you sneak him out of her room?” Bill sighed, but finally nodded.
“I’ll see what I can do,” he muttered, heading resignedly out of the living room. Ron heard his heavy footsteps striding up the stairs, followed by silence. Then, suddenly, there was an ear-piercing shriek, a loud cry of “OW!” and several painful-sounding bangs. The next thing he knew, Bill’s footsteps were hurrying down the stairs again, and moments later, he was back in the living room, clutching a feathery bundle in one hand, and holding the other to his head.
“Er…” Ron began uncertainly, as Bill limped towards him and thrust the bird into Ron’s hand.
“Gabrielle woke up and thought I was a burglar,” Bill groaned, sinking onto the sofa gingerly. “Though why she keeps a fire poker under her bed I shall never know. Anyway, you really had best be off, unless you want the joint wraths of two French women on your head, and, trust me, you don’t.” Ron grinned, gave a cheery wave to Bill, then threw some Floo powder into the grate and headed for Harry and Ginny’s once more.
Once he was back, Ron hastened to find parchment and ink, and set about writing the following letter:
‘Dear Hermione,
I know we agreed to stay apart and everything, but I have to let you know that we’ve been voted back into the competition. I know, I’m not chuffed about it either, believe me, but the viewers have spoken. We’ve got to do two of the dances that we’ve already done, and a new ‘show-dance’ or something, we can do lifts in it and everything!
I’m sorry about this, I know it would be easier for everyone concerned if we just kept away from each other, but what can I do? They’re expecting us at 8 on Saturday morning, but we’ll need to rehearse in the week “ where do you want to rehearse? (I’m guessing your house is out of the question, all things considered). The TeleWizion company tried to contact you, but I know that if anyone can get in touch with you, Pig can.
Let me know ASAP.
Ron
PS Thanks for the DIY book, you should see the nursery, it’s brilliant!’
Ron read the letter through twice before he was satisfied. Finally he rolled it up and turned to the fluffy little owl pottering happily about the writing desk.
“Pig, come here, mate.” Ron snatched Pig up and the tiny owl cooed joyfully, pleased to be back with his master. Ron tied the scroll to Pig’s foot, then held him up to his face, looking serious. “I need you to take this to Hermione, OK? She might be difficult to find, but you’ve always managed to find her before, so don’t fail me this time, alright?” Pig let out a tiny hoot and bit Ron on the nose. Satisfied that his owl had got the message, Ron opened the kitchen window once more and threw Pig out into the breeze. He watched until he could no longer see the owl, then pensively closed the window.
He was interrupted from his thoughts by the sound of the front door opening. Upon entering the hall, he saw Harry struggling up the front steps with numerous shopping bags, Ginny following behind carrying the smallest one.
“Have a good time?” Ron asked, staring in perplexity at the mass of bags. Harry gave him a look that clearly said, ‘Don’t ask.’
“Harry took me shopping!” Ginny said brightly. “We bought lots of things for the baby, look…” She proceeded to drag things out of various bags that Harry had now dumped on the hall floor, and showed them to Ron “ toys, books, and very small clothes.
“Speaking of the baby,” Ron said, interrupting Ginny’s flow and patting her bump, “I have something to show you.”
Intrigued, Harry and Ginny followed Ron up the stairs as he led them to the nursery door. On the door was a plaque that simply said, ‘Room’.
“You charm it to say whatever name you like once you’ve decided,” Ron explained at Harry and Ginny’s perplexed looks. Finally, he pushed the door open to reveal his masterpiece.
Ginny screamed. In delight she bounded into the room, followed (at a steadier pace) by Harry. Both stood in the very centre of the room, staring around them in wonder.
“It’s just like the design!” Ginny squealed, leaping over to Ron and throwing her arms around his neck. “Thank you so much!”
“Well,” Ron muttered, slightly embarrassed but secretly pleased, “it was to say thanks to you, really, for putting up with me.”
“I’ll put up with you for as long as you like if this is what I get in return!” Ginny said, muffled. Ron got the strong impression that she was crying into his shoulder.
“Thanks, mate,” Harry said fervently, running a finger along the edge of the newly-built crib. “You’ve saved me a job.” Ron grinned in reply and, with difficulty, extricated himself from Ginny’s grip. He was just about to start showing them the finer points of his handiwork when the doorbell rang.
“I’ll get it,” Ron offered, leaving the two of them still gawping around the room in awe. “I’ll bring up the stuff you bought when I come back.” Pleased with himself, Ron strode out of the room and down the stairs. His good mood was significantly dampened, however, when he opened the front door.
“Hello, Ron.”
It was Alex.
For a moment, Ron stood there, mind blank, staring at Alex’s perfectly expressionless face. Then, in a snap decision, he swung the door shut again.
“Ron!” Alex banged on the door. “I have to speak to you!” Ron stood motionless at the bottom of the stairs, trying to decide what to do. “I got your owl!” Ron glanced up the stairs, wondering how Harry and Ginny would react to finding Alex in their house. Just as he opened the door again to tell Alex he would meet him somewhere else, he heard footsteps behind him on the stairs and, when he spun round, saw Harry’s stunned face staring behind Ron to where Alex was standing. For a moment, nobody spoke. Harry descended the last few steps in silence, the look on his face indecipherable.
“You’re Harry Potter,” Alex said finally. “You defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.”
“You nearly killed my wife,” Harry growled in reply. “And child,” he added as Alex opened his mouth to speak again.
“I’m sorry about that,” Alex said, and Ron was shocked to hear a faint note of sincerity in his voice. “I just needed to get back what was mine.” He said this absurd sentence with such casualness that Harry was momentarily stunned, taking a step back away from the threshold.
“Hermione is not yours,” Harry said forcibly. “Neither is she Ron’s. Hermione is her own person, not a possession to be fought over like a toddler’s toy. You’ve got five minutes,” he added to Ron. “Find out what he wants, then get rid of him. I’ll make sure Ginny doesn’t come down, if she sees him…” his voice trailed off. Ron shook his head.
“I’ll take him somewhere else, Harry, we don’t have to stay here,” he began, but Harry cut him off.
“I’d prefer it if he were here, where we can help you if he tries anything,” he said pointedly. “And if you do try anything,” he added in a louder tone to Alex, “not only will you suffer my wrath, but you will also have a quick-tempered, pregnant, female Weasley to contend with, and, believe me, my wife in a temper is a force to be reckoned with.” With that he turned on his heel and hurried back up the stairs, from where they could hear Ginny calling his name.
“Five minutes,” Ron snapped at Alex, pointing him into the living room and shutting the door behind him.
Alex sat gingerly on the edge of the sofa, but Ron settled for standing by the fireplace. What did Alex want? Why hadn’t Pig delivered the note to Hermione? Had Alex done something to her?
“Hermione won’t be able to come on Saturday,” Alex said calmly and evenly. “She is otherwise engaged.” Ron scrutinised him closely. His face was still completely blank.
“What have you done to her?” The question burst forth before he could help it. Alex turned his head slowly to look directly into Ron’s face.
“I’ve saved her life, I’ve helped her get her life together, and I’ve given her the security that you never could,” he said simply. “And on Saturday, we’re getting married.” Ron gaped, lost for words.
“W-What?” he spluttered finally.
“This Saturday, at half past one, Hermione Granger and I will marry,” Alex repeated slowly and carefully, as if he were speaking to someone very dense.
“But Hermione doesn’t want to marry you,” Ron said bluntly. “She doesn’t want to be your wife.”
“She’ll be saying some vows on Saturday that rather contradict that statement, Ron.”
“Look, Alex.” Ron was talking quickly, although he wasn’t quite sure why; there was a distinct yet inexplicable urgency in his voice. “Hermione told me about how she met you and how you got to be together. And, actually, I should thank you.”
“What?”
“You gave her what she needed at the right time, and when neither Harry nor me could give it to her. But do you know why that is?” Ron’s voice was becoming louder, full of confidence and (he realised, quickly trying to repress it) emotion. “It’s because we’d all been through too much together. Hermione, Harry and I, it was like we’d been to the end of the world and back again; for seven years we’d struggled together, through death and disaster, and it was too much for Hermione. It was too much for all of us “ none of us could give the others what they needed once it was all over. We were too close to everything that had happened. We’d stood on the edge of that precipice and now had to step back, and we all ran away, in different directions. Harry found Ginny. And Hermione found you. But that doesn’t mean she wants you.”
Alex was watching Ron closely. For a moment, Ron thought he detected a shift in Alex’s blank expression, as if he were letting a mask slip, but soon his face was smooth and inscrutable again.
“Hermione is marrying me,” he repeated, more to himself than to Ron.
“You say you saved her life,” Ron went on. “Do you really want to take it away? I know about your past, Alex, I know that you’re afraid of being left alone. But if you force Hermione into this life with you, then you will be subjecting her to a life of misery and loneliness. She can never be truly happy with just you in her life, Alex, and I think you know that.”
“I need Hermione,” Alex said suddenly, and his voice had become more of a whine.
“You need help,” Ron replied quietly. “If you marry Hermione, you’ll lose her forever. If you think she’ll be able to love you even when you’ve forced her to do that, then you’re more deluded than I thought.” There was silence, in which Ron could hear faint voices from upstairs; clearly Harry was trying to stop Ginny from coming downstairs and discovering Alex.
“I’ve seen it in her eyes,” Alex muttered finally. “She loves you. She always has. Whenever she spoke about you… Her eyes, they say more than her mouth does. They would light up whenever she spoke about her time with you and Harry. I’ve known it for so long. But I love her.”
“If you love her, and want her to be happy, then won’t you make the biggest sacrifice for her?”
“You mean, if I love her, let her go?” Alex asked, a note of disdain in his voice. “That doesn’t work in real life.”
“It can,” Ron said heavily. “Harry and I could have gone after her to bring her back from the Muggle world, but we didn’t. Because we love her.”
“You don’t mean any of this,” Alex spat. “You just want her for yourself.”
“Nothing in the world would make me happier,” Ron agreed. “But this isn’t about me, or you. This is about Hermione. We both care for her, and we both want her to be happy. The only difference is that you have the power to make that happen. It’s out of my hands.”
Suddenly there were the sounds of rapid footsteps on the stairs, a shout of, “Ginny!” and the door flew open. Ron and Alex both looked up to see the shocked face of Ginny standing there, staring at Alex in disbelief. A brief pause.
“Harry!” Harry came skidding into the room behind Ginny just as she called his name.
“Ginny, I’m sorry-” he began.
“Why is he in our house?” Ginny asked, sounding inexplicably calm. The calm before the storm, Ron figured.
“Er…” Harry began, looking to Ron for help.
“Why are you in our house?” Ginny said, now talking directly to Alex. He paused for a moment, unsure of whether he should reply or not.
“I came to tell Ron that Hermione and I are getting married,” he said finally. Ginny’s face showed no reaction.
“How nice for you,” she said, in a tone that suggested she felt rather differently. “When is this happy union taking place?”
“Saturday at half past one.”
“And whereabouts?”
“Well, I don’t know if I should-”
“Hermione is my friend, and I would like to go to her wedding. I know I would have liked her at mine,” Ginny said, still dangerously calm.
“Perhaps she would rather,” Alex began, but Ginny picked up the large umbrella propped against the sofa, wielding it like a sword, “er, perhaps she would rather let you know by invitation,” he finished hastily.
“Or you could tell me now,” Ginny prompted, drawing her wand in the umbrella-free hand.
“Before you discover whether it really is unlucky to have an umbrella up indoors,” Harry added helpfully. Alex looked desperately at Ron, but he was standing with arms folded, looking expectant.
“She has a mean Bat-Bogey Hex,” was his only contribution. Defeated, Alex sighed.
“The registry office in the town,” he said finally. “Ron knows where the house is.” Ginny looked to Ron for confirmation, and he obliged, nodding swiftly.
“That’s wonderful; I’ll see you there on Saturday,” Ginny told him, smiling winningly but maintaining her grip on the umbrella nonetheless. “You can get out of this house now.” She now pointed at the open door with the umbrella.
Alex did not need telling twice. He jumped to his feet and rushed out, Harry obligingly holding the front door open for him and slamming it behind him. Ginny turned to look pointedly at Ron.
“I’m sorry, Ginny, I shouldn’t have let him in.” Ginny shrugged, and sank onto the sofa with a sigh. Harry helpfully took the umbrella from her to put it back in its place, and she returned her wand to her pocket.
“Harry, we’re going to need to go shopping again,” she said finally. Harry looked questioningly at her. “We’re going to a wedding, dear,” she explained, “and I need a new dress.” Ron and Harry both stared in disbelief.
“You mean you’re actually going to the wedding?” Ron asked incredulously.
“Well, I’m going to the registry office,” Ginny mused, looking around for something. “Harry, have we got anymore bananas?”
“Er…” Harry slipped out to the kitchen, but returned empty-handed. “No, you, er, ate them all.”
“Would you mind?” Ginny asked, a hopeful smile on her face. Harry sighed, but nodded.
“Anything for you, light of my life,” he muttered, heading to the hall to pull on his coat. As the front door swung shut, they heard a rumble of thunder.
“He’s not half bad, my husband, is he?” Ginny wondered aloud, settling back into the sofa. “But what are we going to do?”
“What?” Ron saw the look on Ginny’s face that did not bode well; it was a face which told him she was plotting and scheming.
“About the wedding,” Ginny said, as if this were the most obvious thing in the world. “I mean, obviously we can’t actually let Hermione marry him… What about kidnap?”
“Ginny, we are not going to kidnap Hermione.”
“Well, let’s look at the facts, ok? You do not want Hermione to marry Alex. I do not want Hermione to marry Alex. Harry does not want Hermione to marry Alex. Most importantly, Hermione doesn’t want to marry Alex. Alex is wrong in the head. Alex needs help.”
“And Hermione has to dance on Saturday with me,” Ron added thoughtfully. Ginny looked up at him, surprised, and Ron remembered that he hadn’t told her yet. He explained about the competition and Ginny’s eyes seemed to light up with each passing second he talked.
“She can’t marry Alex if she’s at the dance show with you,” she pointed out, once Ron had finished.
“But she doesn’t know about the dance show,” Ron explained. “I haven’t been able to contact her; I sent Pig but Alex intercepted him.”
“Well, I’ll owl her from the Post Office and see if we get a reply. If not, we’ll go and find her when we know where she’ll be, we’ll explain about the competition and she will at least have to postpone the wedding,” Ginny said reasonably, but Ron was shaking his head.
“She won’t come, because she thinks she’s doing the right thing by everybody by marrying Alex, and Alex probably won’t let her. Besides, where are we going to find her? Even if she is at the house, Alex will be there and will throw us out quicker than you can say foxtrot.”
“We know where she’ll be at half past four on Saturday afternoon,” Ginny said slyly. “At the registry office.” Ron was silent, wondering if she really meant what he thought she meant.
“You mean,” he said finally, “we’re going to go to the wedding on Saturday, corner Hermione before it, tell her about the competition, get her to cancel or postpone the wedding, whisk her across London to the studios, where we have all of three hours or so to come up with a whole new routine and practise three new ones?”
Ginny nodded, beaming. Ron groaned.
“Ginny, I don’t think-”
“Faint heart never won fair lady, Ron,” Ginny said gently. “I know that you say you’ve let Hermione go, and I respect that. But you getting back into the competition is, frankly, a miracle. I don’t hold much store in Divination, but I really think that this is actually the best thing that could have happened. It's a sign. You’ve been given a final chance, Ron, and the last thing you want to do is blow it. Who cares if the plan’s farfetched? Isn’t she worth it? What have you got to lose?”
Ron sat down in an armchair and thought in silence for a good long while. The sound of the front door opening echoed through to the living room, and Ginny hurried to greet Harry, but did not return. Ron was left alone with his thoughts, watching as the grey sheets of rain pounded the window, pondering Ginny’s final words. He really did have nothing to lose, and possibly everything to gain. Luna’s words came floating back to him, “No hope is false.” Perhaps the splinter of hope that had burgeoned alongside the anxiety about any trouble caused by being back in the competition, perhaps it could be real, genuine. Maybe Ginny was right, and this was a final chance given to him to sort out this mess once and for all.
One thing was now certain: Ronald Weasley was going to do everything he could to stop that wedding.
Strictly Ballroom by goldenprincess
Chapter Notes: Ron tries in vain to reach Hermione to tell her about the final, but even as he does so, he gets a surprise visit - from the very last person he expects to see...