Hold Me Close

STILL DON'T OWN THIS WORLD, BUT THE PLOT IS MINE HEHE.

Hermione walked down the creaky stairs behind Ginny. Now was not the time to focus on her troubles. Bill and Fleur were about to get married, and nothing should spoil that. She plastered a happy look on her face and went downstairs to meet Ron in the yard, where the ceremony was to take place.

The back yard was unrecognizable. There were flowers of every imaginable variety, and the air smelled heavenly. Or so Hermione would have normally thought. She practically ran to the side of the house, and retched, emptying what little was in her stomach. Suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder. Turning, she saw Ron standing behind her.

“Blimey, Hermione, are you alright?” Ron asked her, concern etched in his voice.

“Oh, uh, I’m fine,” she said, shaking. Ron wrapped an arm around her waist.

“You are not fine, Hermione. I’m gonna go and get Mum, and have her look at you,” Ron said, turning to walk away. Suddenly Hermione grabbed his arm.

“Ron, really, you don’t need to do that. It’s just nerves I think. I’ll be ok. Really,” she added, looking at him,

“Are you sure, cause I can go and get her, it’s really no trouble,” he said.

“Yes, I’m fine,” she replied and pecked him on the lips. She wondered if anyone could tell her secret from looking at her. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she thought to herself.

Ron offered her his arm and they walked back into the yard. Several guests had already arrived, and were beginning to fill the tiny white chairs Mr. Weasley had conjured for the event. Hermione wanted nothing more than to be home, in her bedroom, where she could think about what was happening. After several minutes passed, the music began, signaling that the wedding was about to begin.

Hermione and Ron anxiously took their places behind Harry and Ginny, who were to walk down the aisle first. They took their practiced steps down the aisle toward the Cleric Wizard, who was to be performing the ceremony. Once they had taken their places on either side of Bill, who was already there, Ron and Hermione began their deliberate steps down the aisle. Once in place, the wedding march began, and everyone looked towards the house, where Fleur was emerging. The sight nearly blew everyone away. She was already more beautiful than most women, but in her ornate wedding robes, she was positively stunning. They were of a silver-white satin, and the bodice was fitted to her form perfectly. Hermione had never seen such beautiful wedding robes in her life.

Fleur and her father practically glided down the aisle, and when they reached the end, her father took his seat in the front row. The ceremony was more of a blur to Hermione, unable to concentrate on what the cleric was saying. She heard heavy applause and looked up to see Bill and Fleur kissing. She joined in the congratulations, and the crowd began to dissolve as Mr. Weasley, along with Fred and George began to rearrange the yard for the wedding reception. The guests made their way to the happy couple to offer congratulations, and slowly people spread back out on the lawn as it materialized into a beautiful reception area.

Hermione took her seat at the table with the rest of the wedding party, next to Ron. They began to fill their plates, and eat the food that Mrs. Weasley had prepared for the occasion, and as was par for Mrs. Weasley, everything looked delicious. Hermione was sure under normal circumstances she would be eager to dive into her plate, as she always particularly enjoyed Mrs. Weasley’s cooking. She was just looking at the food deciding what to put on her plate when she caught a whiff of them…miniature pork pies. The smell was more than enough to send her running from the table. She made it to the front yard before she fell over, retching again, and vomiting, which she would have thought impossible as she had clearly already emptied her stomach but an hour ago.

She looked up to find Ron and Mrs. Weasley hovering over her, concerned looks on their faces.

“I told you you weren’t fine. Hermione,” Ron said, looking at her.

“No, really, I am. I think maybe just the excitement or something,” Hermione mumbled. Mrs. Weasley looked at her suspiciously, and Hermione felt fear grab her entire body. Could she know by looking at her? The idea was preposterous. Hermione reached up a hand and Ron helped her to her feet.

“Here, dear, drink this,” Molly Weasley said, handing Hermione a small vial of amber colored liquid. “This should help settle that stomach of yours. Now, come along you two, we don’t want to miss anymore of the fun, now do we?” she said, ushering back to the back of the house, where everyone was waiting.

When they took their seats, Ginny cast Hermione a suspicious look.

“Everything alright, Mione?” she asked her, not breaking her gaze.

“Yeah, I’m fine, maybe I just ate something that didn’t agree with me at breakfast,” Hermione muttered, looking away.

“How could toast not agree with you?” Ginny asked her. “That was all you had, I saw you,” She finished, looking at Hermione. Hermione’s face burned, realizing all eyes at the table were on her.

“Well maybe just nerves then,” she mumbled, tucking into a glass of pumpkin juice, hoping the subject would change.

“Awww how cute, ze girl eez,” Fleur drawled. “She eez more nervous zan I am on my own wedding day,” Fleur said looking at Hermione as though she were a child. Hermione detested being treated this way by Fleur who was only a few years older than she, but she simply nodded, hoping everyone would just drop it.

“She is cute, isn’t she?” Ron said, placing an arm around Hermione. Hermione’s face burned again as Ron leaned over and kissed her lightly on the cheek. The rest of the meal warranted no extra attention to Hermione, and for that she was grateful. She was ever more grateful when Charlie and the twins convinced Ron to play a bit of two on two quidditch with them. Harry and Ginny had disappeared, but Hermione was glad to have a few moments alone. She made her way up to Ginny’s room, intending to change, and have a lie down when she heard two familiar voices on the other side of the door.

“Ginny, I have already told you I am nuts about you,” Harry said

“Then be with me. I know you don’t want Voldemort to take a special interest in me because of you, but Harry I am going to love you and you me no matter the circumstances we are in. Whether we are together or not won’t change Voldemort’s desire to hurt you through me.”

“But Ginny, you have to finish your sixth year. You just have to. I will not be at Hogwarts, and neither will Ron or Hermione. It’s unfair to you to be expected to spend the year alone,” Harry continued softly

“But I won’t be alone. My heart belongs to you whether you take it or not,” sjhe said, her voice wavering.

Hermione knew she shouldn’t listen, but she couldn’t help herself.

“Ginny, you can’t honestly say you would be happy going to Hogsmeade alone on weekends, or watching other couples snogging, and knowing you can’t have that, just because I cannot be there,” Harry said firmly.

“Harry that is how my life will be anyway, because I cannot imagine doing those things with anyone but you,” Ginny stated flatly. “At least if you choose to be with me, I have owls to look forward to, and stolen moments in Hogsmeade when your schedule would permit. I daresay since I will be allowed to apparate soon I could spend holidays with you, no matter where you may be, though I would hope you could come back here.”

“But-,“ Harry started to protest. Then Hermione heard what she decided was the unmistakable sound of kissing. When they broke away, Hermione felt it might be an ok time to make her presence known. She knocked softly on the door.

“Yes? Come in,” Ginny replied. Hermione stepped into the room.

“Oh. Hello, Hermione,” Harry said, a euphoric look on his face.
“So glad you have come to your senses, Harry,” Hermione said, barely suppressing a smile.

“Yeah me too,” Harry said, wrapping an arm around Ginny.

Hermione grabbed some clean jeans and a t-shirt from her trunk at the foot of the bed that had been conjured for her.

“I’m just going to go change, and then maybe take a lie down on Ron’s bed while he plays Quidditch,” she told them, not wanting to interrupt them any longer. She apparated up to Ron’s bedroom and changed out of her Robes. She settled herself atop Ron’s bed, and began to think about the baby growing inside of her body.