The Wedding

Dumbledore’s funeral had taken place just weeks before. The wizarding community lived in a state of both constant mourning and constant fear. Despite these two facts, the atmosphere at the Burrow was of a different world. The idea that something as happy and pure as a wedding could take place amid dark times was enough to lift Hermione’s spirit as she walked up the drive. She could hear faint sounds of Mrs. Weasley’s pots and pans making what was no doubt a delicious supper, and she giggled when she saw Crookshanks sprint past in pursuit of a garden gnome. Her smile brightened when she saw a familiar red head pop out of the topmost window and call her name.

“Hey, Hermione!” Ron Weasley beamed and waved broadly before disappearing again. Within seconds, it seemed, he was heading out the door and down the drive towards her. Hermione felt the urge to run into his arms and squeeze the breath out of him-she had been so worried that something had happened to her friend while they were apart. She resisted, however, settling instead with a warm “Hello, Ronald!”

Ron’s grin grew wider as the distance between the two grew closer. When they were just inches away, they both stopped, as though not quite sure how to greet each other, even after six years of friendship. Ron’s eyes fell to the ground, almost as though he were embarrassed that he was so happy to see her. Hermione didn’t quite know how to take this display of awkwardness, so she laughed it off the best she could before throwing her arms around his neck. She knew it was turning red, due to the heat she could feel on her cheek, and smiled to herself. Eliciting that kind of response from Ron was one that she was perhaps a little proud of.

“Oh, come on, Ronald. Don’t be scared to hug me properly, it’s not as if we’ve never met before!” Hermione said before pulling away. “But if you can’t hug me correctly, the least you can do is carry my bags for me.” Ron looked at little relieved as he bent to pick up the luggage at Hermione’s feet. As they walked towards the Burrow, they could began to hear a sound unlike that of Mrs. Weasley’s pots and pans-laughter. They could hear laughter. It was a beautiful sound to Hermione, something that she felt like she hadn’t heard in a very long time.

-*-

As soon as she walked through the door into the kitchen, Hermione was enveloped in a warm and squishy hug. “Oh, Hermione dear, we’ve been so worried about you, especially Ron! I’ve been so looking forward to you coming, you always manage to keep your head when no one else can think the least bit sensibly! I’m so glad you could come and stay with us, and you just let me know if there is anything at all that you need, anything. You’re just like another daughter to me, Hermione, and I don’t know what I would do if something were to happen to you!” All of this came out in one enormous breath from the kind Mrs. Weasley before she released her hold on Hermione. She smiled kindly, but Hermione could see the worry in her eyes. For once, Hermione didn’t know how to respond. She wanted to say something that could give a little comfort to Mrs. Weasley, but her words seemed to be caught in her throat, right next to the lump that was threatening to rise. So instead, she just breathed a small and timid “Thank you.”

She felt a little awkward just standing there in the kitchen, Mrs. Weasley with tears in her eyes and Ron increasingly becoming very interested in a potato peeler. She was thankful to hear the sound of footsteps on the stairs, and her heart jumped to see a familiar tangle of black hair, glasses shining underneath. Hermione wasted no time running across the kitchen to greet Harry with an enormous hug. Harry, unlike Ron, hugged her back properly, and she felt a wave of relief wash over her. She had been worried about Harry since Dumbledore’s funeral, and she hadn’t heard a word from him since they had parted ways at Kings Cross. They broke apart, smiling broadly at one another before he stepped back to examine her. “Didn’t leave anything behind with you Diaspparated, did you? Got all your eyebrows?”

“Hey now, mate, I passed the second time, didn’t I? Eyebrows and everything,” Ron defended. “And tell Hermione how many times it’s taken you to pass the test, Harry!” Harry grinned sheepishly at Hermione and opened his mouth to speak, but they were interrupted by a high-pitched squeal coming from the direction of the staircase.

“HERMIONE!”
”GINNY!!” The two girls flew into each other’s arms, laughing and holding back tears. Since school had ended, Ginny was the only one Hermione had heard from, and their friendship had blossomed into a sisterhood. Ginny knew secrets about Hermione that Ron and Harry didn’t dare dream about hearing. She was thankful that she had found a girl to confide in, especially when it came down to talking about boys.

“Come on, ‘Mione, we’ll show you to your room,” Ginny said, motioning to Ron and Harry to gather up Hermione’s luggage and follow her up the stairs. “My room? Aren’t you and I sharing again this summer, Ginny?” Hermione asked. From behind her Ron answered.

“Nope, we’ve all got our own rooms this year. Bill and Fleur already have a house down the road, so they’re staying there. Charlie is doing Order stuff in Romania, so he’s Apparating when he’s needed. Fred and George are still living above their shop in Hogsmeade, and…well…you know about Perce.” Here, Ron cleared his throat sharply. “So we’ve all got a room-Ginny’s in hers, obviously, and I’m in mine, while Harry is in Fred and George’s and you’re staying in Percy’s.” As he finished, Ginny was pushing open a door and leading them into a bright, clean room. Besides the quilt covered bed and a lopsided desk, the only thing in the room was a stack of boxes, all labeled PERCY’S. “He still hasn’t come round to collect his things,” Ron explained, throwing Hermione’s luggage onto the bed. “And anyway, it’s better than Fred and George’s room, it’s got burn marks all on the floor. Right, Harry?” He turned back to the doorway, expecting confirmation from his friend, but was greeted with the sight of a closing door. Hermione could hear whispers traveling away from the room, and smiled to herself. It seemed that even though Harry felt it dangerous to continue his relationship with Ginny, they were stealing every chance they could to spend some time together.

Her suspicion was soon confirmed by Ron, who was now standing awkwardly in the doorway, fidgeting. “They, uh, they’ve been doing that all summer. I can’t for the life of me figure out where they’re getting too, though.” He cleared his throat, the tips of his ears turning red. Hermione smiled, then bent to unpack her suitcase. “Well, thank you, Ron for helping me carry my things.” She pulled out her wand and sent her clothes flying, garment by garment, into the wardrobe standing in the corner of the room.

“Do you use magic a lot, now that you’re seventeen?” She gasped. Ron’s voice was not coming from near the doorway, but instead from directly behind her. She turned and found herself face to face with his chest, and she couldn’t help but notice that the threadbare shirt he was wearing showcased each tiny detail of the muscles that Ron had been steadily developing over the past few years. She couldn’t find words to say, so instead just shook her head, attempting to regain her composure.

“Uh….erm….well, no, not really. Just when it’s useful. I, uh, I don’t really mind doing things the Muggle way.” She exhaled, thankful that she had found something sensible to say, despite the fact that she was finding it very hard to concentrate when she was so close to Ron.

She looked up at him. She didn’t know what else to say, and the way Ron was looking at her wasn’t really making it easy for her to begin a conversation. Instead, she took a step back, creating a sizable gap between them and allowing her to breath. She was surprised to see Ron’s face fall, and she thought she heard him breathe a sigh. He stood there for a moment, looking rather downcast, and Hermione regretted stepping away. She was about to say something, anything, when he looked up at her with a hard look. She thought for a moment that he looked remarkably like Ginny, with all her courage and determination. Before she could react, he stepped forward and brought her into his arms.

“Oh!” A small sound escaped her as he crushed her to him, one arm wrapped around her back and the other tight at her waist. She instinctively circled her arms around his waist, and thought she felt his heart quicken. He bent his head until his lips were level with her ear and whispered “Is this a good and proper hug?”

Unable to speak, she turned her face to look into his eyes. They were twinkling, and juxtaposed with his flaming red ears, she couldn’t help but to smile. She remembered the question and somehow managed a nod and a small thank you. Ron smiled and squeezed her a little harder, almost as though he didn’t really want to let go. A sound in the hallway caught his attention and he turned his head to investigate. Hermione took the opportunity to stand up on tiptoes and give him a tiny peck on the cheek.

“D’you think that wa-“ Ron was caught off guard by Hermione’s movements. He turned to look at her and was met with a small kiss, planted directly on the lips.

“Oh! Oh…um…sorry. I meant that for your cheek,” Hermione stuttered, her own cheeks growing pink. Good job, Hermione! He was just trying to do the friendly thing and give you a proper hug, and you have to go and muck it up like that! What in the world must he be thinking?

Ron could see that she was lost in thought, and he didn’t really want to interrupt her…but he had mustered the courage to do something he’d been meaning to do for as long as he could remember. He leaned forward, one hand moving up to rest in her thick curls, and kissed her back. Firm but gentle, he held her lips against his, savoring the moment for as long as he could. He’d waited for this for so long, he thought, and-

“Ronald! Hermione! Dinner’s ready!” His mother’s voice sliced through the moment and the kiss, repelling them away from each other as though they had suddenly been burned.

“Well…uh, yes. Tell your mother I’ll be down in just one moment, will you Ronald? Thank you again for bringing up my things, I’ll just need to finish unpacking,” Hermione said. She turned and bustled about through her suitcase, her thoughts flying. Ron let out a small, squeaky “All…okay…all right. All right, I’ll see you in a minute.” He moved awkwardly out of the room, not looking at Hermione.

When he was gone, she breathed a sigh. Ron had kissed her. Ron Weasley had kissed her. That thought ran through her mind over and over again, like a chant, until the sound of her stomach grumbling interrupted her. Dashing to the mirror above the desk, she straightened her shirt and tried in vain to smooth down her hair. She gave up and instead pulled it into a large knot at the base of her neck, a few springy curls falling loose and hanging about her face. There, she thought. No body will know what just happened. Nobody of course, except Ron. She smiled at her reflection, and at the thought, and headed out of the room and down to dinner.