“If you love somebody, let them go. If they return, they were always yours. If they don’t, they never were.” ~ Kahlil Gibran
The reception at St Mungo’s was crowded; apparently Saturday morning was the time everybody was injuring themselves. Harry, supporting Ginny, managed to push his way to the reception desk, where the blonde receptionist was looking exceedingly harassed.
“We really need to see a Healer,” he gasped at her, “it’s urgent.” The blonde witch looked deeply unimpressed.
“You and everyone else here,” she snapped irritably. Then her face changed slightly as a look of recognition crossed it. “Are you Harry Potter?” Her eyes flicked to his forehead. Harry groaned.
“Yes, I am. Will that get us seen to quicker?” he asked hopefully. The witch raised an eyebrow.
“No, Mr Potter.” At that moment Ron struggled through the crowds and finally emerged at Ginny’s other side. The receptionist glanced indifferently at him, then did a double take.
“Ron Weasley?!” she asked, excitedly. Ron looked a little puzzled.
“Er, yes,” he muttered, his ears turning slightly red as a couple of people turned to stare.
“Are these with you?” she asked, waving a hand at Harry and Ginny. Ron nodded, still looking confused. “In that case, if you’ll give me an autograph, you can go right up!” the witch exclaimed with delight. “You see, I was on my week off last time you were in here, and I was so jealous because Melanie said she’d seen you and Linda managed to get your autograph, so it would absolutely make my day if you could sign something for me!”
“Uh, sure,” Ron said dazedly. “Have you got a quill?”
The witch seized an abandoned quill from the desk top and looked around for anything she could get Ron to sign. As she glanced up, she noticed Harry and Ginny still standing looking a little dumbfounded.
“Oh, you can go and see Healer Sharp; she’s in maternity,” she gestured towards Ginny’s noticeable bump, “just down that corridor there.” Harry gave Ron a stunned look and hauled Ginny off in the direction indicated, just as the receptionist decided that the only suitable autograph material was a patient’s record that happened to be on the desk.
“There you go,” Ron mumbled, scribbling his signature and pushing the quill and parchment record back towards the witch; he made to follow Harry and Ginny but the witch began gabbling at him again.
“Oh, thank you ever so much, my brother will be so jealous, he’s such a Cannons fan, is our Kevin, but me, I just like watching Quidditch for the view, know what I mean?” She gave Ron a very obvious wink and snorted with laughter. “Stop whinging, I’ll get to you in a moment!” she snapped at a wizard whose nose seemed to have disappeared. “Honestly, we get all sorts in here!” she beamed back at Ron, who was still trying to edge away.
“Look,” he said finally, “I’ve really got to go and see how my sister is… I’ll see you around… sometime…” he trailed off and ran before she could reply, practically sprinting down the corridor until he reached the wing with ‘Maternity’ sparkling in silver letters in midair above the door. He found Harry and Ginny in a small cubicle with a thin, bony woman with a pointed nose, wearing Healer robes and scribbling on a clipboard.
“And you are?” she asked, turning towards Ron.
“I’m her brother,” Ron panted, rather out of breath from his escape from the receptionist. The Healer turned to Ginny, who nodded to indicate that Ron could stay.
“So, how does it feel to be more famous than me?” Harry asked Ron with a slight grin, though his eyebrows remained slightly furrowed with concern for his wife. Ron grimaced.
“I never thought I’d see the day,” he muttered darkly. “D’you want to swap back again?”
“Oh no, mate, you enjoy it,” Harry said, patting Ron on the back. They turned their attention back to Ginny, who was now answering a stream of quick-fire questions from the Healer, who continued to scribble notes on her parchment.
“Well,” the Healer said finally, after what seemed like an hour of questioning, “it doesn’t look like there’s anything seriously wrong, but in my opinion, you’re dehydrated. Here.” She waved her wand and conjured a plastic cup from midair and, with another flick, water spouted from the tip of her wand, filling the cup.
“That’s it?” Harry asked, incredulously. “Just give her a cup of water?” The Healer looked sharply at him.
“This isn’t any plain old water, Mr Potter, this is Rehydration Water,” she snapped, as though this were the most obvious thing in the world. “I’ll give you an extra supply before you go, just in case. For now, drink this and sit quietly, and I’ll be back in an hour.”
Ron glanced surreptitiously at his watch. It was already half past eleven; Hermione’s wedding was in two hours.
“You can go, Ron,” Ginny offered, also looking at her watch. Ron shook his head.
“I’m not leaving you until I’m sure you’re 100% ok,” he said firmly, ruffling her hair.
“With you two looking after me, how can I be anything other?” Ginny asked in mock philosophical tones.
*
By the time Healer Sharp had returned and satisfied herself that Ginny was perfectly alright again, it was well over an hour later. As the arms on his watch neared one, Ron was immensely relieved to finally be told that they could leave; they forced themselves through the crowds in the reception to the Floo point and returned to Harry and Ginny’s living room. It wasn’t until that moment when Ron realised the flaw in their plan.
“How are you planning on getting to the registry office, Ginny?” he asked her slowly. “Harry and I can Apparate, but you’re not allowed to past three months.” Ginny sighed as though Ron were irritatingly thick.
“We’re going by Floo,” she said, as though this was obvious.
“It’s a Muggle registry office, Ginny, it’s not on the Floo network.”
“Yes, it is,” Ginny said simply. “I owled Dad and persuaded him to get it put on for this afternoon.” She sighed, looking down at the old clothes she was wearing. “We haven’t got time to change, we’ll have to go as we are.”
“Are you sure you’re ok now?” Harry asked Ginny seriously, eyeing her closely. She sighed, looking a little exasperated.
“Yes, Harry,” she said gently, patting his shoulder. “Well, I shan’t be doing any running around or Quidditch for a while, but I’ll do. Besides, I’ve always wanted to crash a wedding, you are not going to deprive me of what may well be my one and only chance. Come on, or we’ll miss it.” She reached past Ron for a handful of Floo powder, which she cast into the grate before turning to look at him expectantly.
“What’s the name of the town?”
“Little Fletchley.”
“See you on the other side.” Ginny stepped purposefully into the green flames, calling, “Little Fletchley Registry Office!” as she was whipped out of sight. Harry followed suit and Ron, with a deep breath, did the same.
*
He slid out of a large stone fireplace on his back, staring up at the ceiling, which was covered with old oak beams. Coughing to get rid of the mouthful of soot he seemed to have accidentally swallowed, Ron clambered awkwardly to his feet, looking around for Harry and Ginny. As his eyes found them, he noticed that they were not looking at him; he followed their gaze and jumped in shock. The fireplace, as it turned out, was right in the actual ceremony hall itself, and, most unfortunately, it was positioned right behind the minister “ at the very front of the hall. The people sitting on rows of little white chairs were silent, open-mouthed at the three people who had just materialised out of the fireplace. Ron’s eyes flicked past them to the two people standing before the minister and he stared at the woman in her simple white dress.
“Hermione,” he croaked, taking a step forwards. “Hermione, don’t do this-” His voice broke off as the woman looked up at him and he was stunned into silence. She looked absolutely beautiful.
But she wasn’t Hermione.
“Uh…” Ron heard Harry’s voice from behind him, struggling to find something to say. The people in the hall, particularly the nonplussed bride and groom, were still staring at them. Even Ginny seemed at a loss for what to say or do. Ron glanced up at the clock on the wall “ it was five past one. This must be the wedding before.
“Er, sorry,” he muttered, ears scarlet, to the minister. “We’re, er, a bit early. We’re here for the next wedding.” The minister frowned slightly.
“There isn’t a ‘next wedding’,” she replied quietly, as the people in the hall strained to hear the conversation. “This is the last one today.” Ron opened and closed his mouth silently, struggling to comprehend.
“But… we’re supposed to be here for the wedding of Hermione Granger and Alex… someone,” he said finally. The minister’s frown deepened.
“They were booked in for this morning,” she told him firmly. “I’m sorry, I really can’t help you. Now, please, would you mind leaving so that I can get on with this wedding?”
Ron nodded and beckoned to Harry and Ginny; with a profuse apology “ and good luck wishes from Ginny - to the bride and groom as he passed them, Ron led the way down the aisle between the rows of people, who were still staring in bewilderment, and out of the double doors at the back of the hall.
On the other side the three of them stared wordlessly at each other. Ron’s brain was trying to process what he had just been told. Hermione and Alex’s wedding was that morning. They were already married. He was too late.
“Ron,” Ginny said finally, resting a hand sympathetically on his arm, tears in her eyes, “Ron, I’m sorry.”
“Yeah,” Harry said solemnly, clapping Ron on the back. Both of them seemed at a loss to say anything else. But Ron was thinking.
If Hermione and Alex were married (and it seemed pretty obvious that they must be), then he surely wouldn’t be such a threat in Alex’s eyes, for in Alex’s eyes, he had won “ he had married Hermione. Perhaps Alex wouldn’t refuse Ron one last conversation with Hermione; Ron suddenly felt a burning desire just to talk to Hermione one last time, to see her face, to tell her that he loved her. Perhaps Alex wouldn’t deny him that.
“I’m going to find her,” Ron said decisively and, before Harry or Ginny could reply, he was striding out of the building into the sunlight beyond.
“Ron!” Harry was running along after him, Ginny walking as quickly as she dared behind. “Ron, don’t be an idiot!”
“I can’t help it!” Ron shouted back, and he was surprised to hear himself laugh as he said it. “I’ve got to see her, Harry.”
“But-” Harry caught up with Ron and grabbed him arm tightly, “But it’s over, Ron, she’s married Alex.”
“I know,” said Ron, breathlessly. “But I just want to speak to her, one last time.” He pulled his arm out of Harry’s grip and set off at a sprint down the road, fully aware that Harry would not be able to follow him, since he would not leave Ginny behind. He heard their shouts as he rounded the corner but ignored them and ran on, pounding the streets, passing shoppers laden with shopping bags, past children screaming at their parents, past people of all ages, as he headed down the road that led out of town to the green. The shoppers became less as he ran out of the centre of town; more and more trees lined the streets and finally he came to the main road, on the other side of which was a small wooded pathway, with a sign saying, ‘Birchwood’ pointing up it. He ran across the road, narrowly avoiding a motorbike that he had not seen coming, and hurtled up the path, heading for the house that he knew lay at the end of it.
The path veered steeply uphill, but Ron was not deterred by this, for he knew that at the top of the hill he would be able to see the whole house and gardens. Sure enough, as he reached the hill’s peak, he looked down and saw a sizeable white marquee in the garden and heard the faint strains of music. Ignoring the pang in his heart that this sight gave him, Ron ran on, down the hill and through the trees until he was standing in front of the large house, just as he’d stood there so many weeks ago when he and Hermione were to rehearse there. He was inordinately out of breath and rued his recent lack of exercise as he massaged the stitch in his chest, looking around for where Hermione might be.
“You’re late.” A voice that Ron recognised immediately spoke from somewhere behind him. He wheeled round to face Alex, still panting, but his face set.
“I just want to speak to Hermione, Alex,” he gasped. “Just give me one last chance to speak to her. Come on.”
Alex was staring at Ron with an odd expression on his face. Sympathy? Ron couldn’t quite tell. He seemed as though he were trying to make up his mind about something.
“She’s quite a girl, isn’t she?” he said finally. “She’s had us running around like a pair of lunatics.”
“She’s worth it,” Ron shrugged and Alex, inexplicably, laughed.
“Yes, she is,” he said softly. “She’s so warm and giving, all of the time. I bet she was a wonderful friend at school, wasn’t she?”
Ron could not see where this conversation was going and was getting very annoyed at its continuance; he decided not to answer.
“There’s something about her, right?” Alex went on. “Whenever she’s around you know she’ll be the one to make you feel better about yourself. And she’s so determined, she’ll just plough on with something if she feels it’s the right thing to do. She always wants to do the right thing.”
“Look,” Ron interrupted him angrily, “I can see where this is going, alright?” The sight of people milling happily around in the reception marquee was almost too much for him to bear. “She always does the right thing, she’s married you, ergo marrying you was the right thing to do, yes?”
“You need to listen more, Ron, and talk less,” Alex said pointedly. “Hermione didn’t marry me.”
It was as if a weight had been smashed into Ron’s face; he took a dazed step backwards and struggled for words. Hermione hadn’t married Alex?
“Don’t try and pull that one on me,” Ron growled finally. Alex looked puzzled. “You think I’ll believe she didn’t marry you so that I’ll… I’ll…” Ron was at a loss to think why Alex would say this if it weren’t true.
“It’s true, Ron,” Alex said with a somewhat impatient sigh. “Or perhaps the truth would be, I didn’t marry her.” Ron stared at him, his mind spinning. “We had a call the other day saying that a couple had pulled out, so would we like an earlier wedding. Our guests were all staying here anyway so we said we’d marry at half past eleven instead of half one. But when I got to the registry office…” Alex looked rather wistful, although it was mingled with something that looked inexplicably like pride, “I was there early, but, as it turned out, so was she. I saw her sitting on the wall outside; she looked beautiful. But she was crying.”
From somewhere behind him, Ron thought he heard the sound of hurried footsteps, which he guessed meant that Harry and Ginny had finally managed to find the house. They said nothing to him, however, but hovered a few feet behind, cautiously watching the two men in front of them.
“I went and sat beside her,” Alex continued. “We talked for a while. And I realised that you were right.” Ron looked more surprised than ever. “If I forced her to marry me, she’d be lonely. I’d be… caging her, if you like. I could never make her happy.” Alex looked directly into Ron’s eyes and Ron felt a pang of pity for the man before him. “There’s only one person who can make her happy, and we both know who he is,” Alex finished quietly.
“So you definitely didn’t get married?” Ron said, still trying to make his brain understand.
“They called our names. Hermione assured me that she was fine and that she’d see me inside. She left to go into the hall. I left in the other direction.”
“You jilted her?” Ron asked incredulously. Alex nodded.
“I couldn’t do anything else,” he said simply.
For a few moments, Ron just stared at Alex in disbelief. Alex had freely and willingly given up Hermione. He was letting her go. There was a squeal from behind him and Ron jumped as Ginny streaked past him and leapt on Alex in a hug. The three men seemed equally thrown by this; Ron stared in amazement at his little sister, Harry opened and closed his mouth like a fish, and Alex, looking totally shocked, appeared quite unable to decide what he should do. Finally Ron prised Ginny off of Alex and she just stood there, beaming widely.
“You’re not so bad after all,” she said brightly, bobbing up and down on her feet.
“Er, thanks,” Alex muttered, scarlet. “Are you, er, alright?”
“Never better!” Ginny said happily, patting her bump contentedly.
“Listen, mate.” Ron thought he’d better say something before the opportunity disappeared. “Thank you.” Alex shook his head.
“Not necessary,” he assured Ron. “I guess I’ve put you and your family through hell these weeks. I’m sorry.” And he looked completely genuine as he said it. “I’m going back to St Mungo’s,” he added, looking away from Ron. “Just for a while, you know, get back on my feet and all that.” Ron nodded silently. “You should go and talk to Hermione,” Alex told him, smiling now. “We’d paid for the reception so we thought we’d let the guests enjoy themselves anyway, but Hermione went off for a walk by the lake.”
Ron nodded again and, with a brief pat on Alex’s shoulder, set off in the direction that Alex had indicated. As he left, Alex called after him.
“Ron?” Ron turned.
“Yes?”
“Make her happy.”
Ron gave him a thumbs up and broke into a run down the grassy slope towards the shimmering water at the bottom of the hill, upon the opposite bank of which he could make out a figure wearing a long white dress.
The scene reminded him irresistibly of the night when Hermione had left the Burrow ten years earlier. As Ron walked closer, he noticed that she was dancing, slowly and sadly, the simple train of her white gown flaring behind her as she twirled and her brown curls flying round her head. A weeping willow bent its fronds towards the water’s glimmering surface and Ron watched, entranced, as Hermione moved beneath the tree, parting the branches, causing the water to ripple gently.
“My good lady!” he hollered across the lake. Hermione looked up, surprised, a smile creeping up her previously wistful face as she recognised the voice. “May I have this dance?”
Ron began to stride purposefully around the banks of the lake towards where Hermione was now standing still, watching him, still smiling. She began to walk towards him, then broke into a run, the hem of her dress trailing in the mud at the lake’s edge. Ron stopped as she neared him, grinning widely as he took in her flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes, and she suddenly looked more beautiful in that single moment than Ron had ever seen her look before. She threw herself upon him in a bear hug which nearly knocked him flat. For that moment, there was no need for either of them to say anything; they remained there, Hermione practically strangling Ron as she clung on for dear life and Ron quietly chuckling inexplicably.
“I’ll take that as a yes, then?” he said as Hermione finally let him go and she stood back to look him up and down.
“Of course it’s a yes,” Hermione said happily, taking him by the hand and leading him in a waltz-type movement. “You’ll always be my favourite dance partner.”
“Obviously,” Ron scoffed sarcastically, and Hermione swatted his arm. They continued waltzing around the edge of the lake as they spoke, a comical sight to anyone watching, but, in their eyes, it was the natural thing to do.
“You came back then,” Hermione said, smiling widely. Ron grinned even wider and shrugged.
“So did you.”
“I’m coming back for good,” Hermione told him earnestly. “I’m coming back into the wizarding world properly. I want to start a dancing school for wizards and witches.”
“Funny that,” Ron mused, “because I want to start a Quidditch training school for wizards and witches.”
“Fancy that,” Hermione said quietly, her smile becoming impish and a little mischievous.
“So, when you say you’re coming back,” Ron said slowly, “might I be so bold as to ask you… if you might consider… coming back to me?” Hermione looked him right in the eye, just as firmly as she had that night at the masked dance so many weeks earlier.
“Do you even need to ask that question?” she answered, softly. “If you’ll have me, of course?” she added, looking a little nervous. Ron leaned forward and kissed her forehead.
“How could I say no?”
“No Heavenly-Paige?”
“She’s getting married.”
“Really?” Hermione looked taken aback but amused. “I bet you were gutted.”
“Heartbroken,” Ron said, with a melodramatic sigh. “But I battle onwards through the pain.”
“No more beer?” Hermione asked, her voice serious once more.
“No more beer,” Ron told her firmly.
“No more cheap cracks about dancing costumes?” Hermione’s wicked smile had returned.
“Come on, you’ve got to give me something!”
“Ok, ok, I’ll agree they are a bit… effeminate,” Hermione conceded. “But very flattering on the male figure.”
“Is that Hermione Granger referring to the male anatomy in such a crude and vulgar fashion?” he asked in mock scandalous tones. Hermione laughed.
“They make your legs look longer,” she said playfully. Ron laughed this time. They fell silent for a few moments more as Ron, without thinking about it, rested his chin on the top of Hermione’s head.
“I’m glad you’re back,” he said finally.
“Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” Hermione assured him. “Or with anyone else,” she added. Ron was thoughtful for a moment.
“I love you, Hermione,” he said quietly. “I mean it, I really, actually, properly love you. I’m not just saying it because it’s the kind of thing you’re supposed to say in a moment like this. It just happens to be true.”
“And it just so happens to be true that I really, actually, properly love you, Ronald Weasley,” Hermione said with a laugh.
“That’s handy.”
“Convenient, really.”
“Exactly.”
“Tell me, Ron,” Hermione said after a few moments of silence, “once we’re together again, will you still dance with me?”
“Every day,” Ron promised with a grin. Then he suddenly remembered. “Hey, did Alex tell you about the competition?” Hermione frowned.
“What competition?”
“The one we’ve been competing in for the last however many weeks,” Ron reminded her.
“I know it’s the final tonight, but really I think I’d rather not watch it,” Hermione muttered, her smile fading.
“No, no, it’s not that “ we’re back in it!” Hermione stared at him, open-mouthed, their waltz coming to a halt.
“What? How?”
“They had the audience vote a Wild Card couple back in, and it was us,” Ron explained quickly. “I sent you an owl but Alex got it instead; we do two of our previous dances and a freestyle dance. We get to do lifts and everything!” Hermione was still gaping at him, then seized Ron’s wrist to look at his watch.
“It’s half past two already! The show starts in a few hours!”
“We could not do it, if we’re not going to be ready,” Ron suggested, but Hermione was shaking her head.
“We’re dancing tonight, Ron, even if we have to make it up on the spot!” she said determinedly. “One last time, and if we win or lose, who cares? We’ll go down together “ you with me?” She held out a hand, a wide grin spreading across her stunned face. Ron couldn’t help but beam in response; he seized her hand and shook it firmly.
“Let’s go for it then!” He took her hand and led her back around the lake and up the hill at a run; they sprinted across the gardens - Hermione holding up her dress with her free hand - until they reached where the marquee was, when Hermione pulled Ron to a halt.
“Let me just go and speak to Alex,” she said, panting. “Please?” Ron looked across to where Alex was sitting alone on the front step of the house and nodded. Hermione kissed him lovingly and, with a smile, departed. Still slightly out of breath, Ron glanced into the marquee, where he saw Ginny and Harry sitting eating some of the wedding cake. He strolled over to join them.
“Everything sorted?” Harry asked, as Ginny licked icing from her fingertips. Ron nodded, unable to stop a grin returning to his face.
“She’s gone to talk to Alex, then we’re off to the studio,” he explained. Harry and Ginny looked round; the three of them saw Hermione sitting on the sunny steps next to Alex, deep in conversation.
“Isn’t it nice when everything works out?” Ginny mused happily, reaching for another slice of cake.
“How many pieces of cake have you had?” Ron asked, curiously.
“Three,” Ginny said, biting a cherry from the top.
“Five,” Harry corrected her, patting her bump.
“Really?” Ginny sounded surprised, and a little impressed with herself. “What? It’s good cake!” she added defensively, as Harry and Ron looked at her with raised eyebrows.
“And you’re sure you’re feeling better after this morning?” Ron asked, eyeing her closely. Ginny rolled her eyes.
“Harry’s been asking that all afternoon,” she grumbled.
“Understandably,” Harry protested. “You were screaming incoherently and barely able to walk or talk this morning.”
“Dehydration, like the Healer said,” Ginny shrugged. “It’s been a hectic week, that’s all. That Rehydration Water works wonders though. Look,” she added, when Harry continued to frown, “I’m asking for next week off, just so as I can lie down all week and have a bit of rest. I’ll bring some stuff home to write up. Happy?”
Neither Harry nor Ron looked completely convinced, but there was no time to reply, for at that moment Hermione appeared beside them.
“Ready?” Ron asked. She simply nodded.
“Alex ok?” Harry said, glancing towards where Alex still sat on the steps.
“He will be,” Hermione said, nodding again.
“Let’s get out of here then,” Ron said, taking her hand comfortingly. “You guys Flooing back to your house?” he asked Harry and Ginny.
“Yes, but we’ll be front row tonight,” Ginny assured him as she got to her feet; Ron thought he saw her slip another piece of cake up her sleeve. With a nod and a final look back at Alex, Ron and Hermione Apparated away.
Strictly Ballroom by goldenprincess
Chapter Notes: It's the day of Hermione's wedding - will Ron get there in time?