Always a Bridesmaid

The first inclination that there was a problem was a hissed, “Hermione”, coming from her right shortly after she left Pansy’s room. For a moment, she considered ignoring the hiss. She recognized it, of course. She had been the bridesmaid to said hiss a few years earlier and knew from that experience that acknowledging it meant there was no going back. When Ginny hissed her name a bit louder, Hermione sighed and turned to look at the redhead standing in the open doorway of a pantry or possibly cloakroom.

Ginny looked huge. Hermione wasn’t one of those people who could lie and say ‘Oh, you look all glowing and lovely’ when Ginny asked if she looked fat. She was one of those rather blunt hated people who nodded and said ‘yes, you look like a whale, but a glowing one’. Needless to say, she’d not been someone Ginny seemed to particularly want around by the time she reached her seventh month of pregnancy and started to waddle slowly as she got bigger and bigger.

Pansy’s dislike of the former girlfriend of her future husband was obvious in the pale pink dress she had chosen for Ginny. Some redheads could pull off pink and make it look quite pretty. Ginny was not one of those redheads. Her hair was much too vibrant and her skin far too pale beneath the multitude of freckles. She looked washed out and huge, which Hermione was pretty certain was what Pansy was going for. After all, it was a good reminder to Harry that she was the best choice.

What Pansy failed to realize was that Harry loved pregnant women with an ‘I wanna be a daddy and have a dozen children one day, whee!’ sort of exuberance. Having Ginny’s swelled belly so prominently on display would merely ensure that Harry was focused on beginning his own dream of fatherhood that much sooner. She’d wager a galleon that Pansy was pregnant within six months regardless of Pansy’s own expectations of motherhood and insistence she was waiting until she was thirty-five and could look fat without caring too much.

“Hermione!” Ginny scowled as she hissed this time and waved her hand beckoning Hermione to the pantry where she seemed to be hiding.

Hermione deviated her path to look outside and see who, if anyone, had arrived yet and walked to the pantry, where she found herself quickly pulled inside. “You know, if you try to snog me, I’m telling Neville,” she teased as Ginny’s belly rubbed against her. “However, that might not be a problem because I don’t think you could reach me over that tummy.”

“Hmph. I already kissed you and it wasn’t something I’d care to repeat,” Ginny declared loftily before sticking her tongue out and rubbing her belly protectively. “Stop talking about your future niece or nephew or I’ll insist they call you Auntie Mione.”

“You wouldn’t!” Hermione smacked Ginny’s arm lightly and stuck her own tongue out before she giggled. “Besides, that was a right smashing kiss, Mrs. Longbottom. You only wish all your kisses could be that good.”

“I was fourteen and you were drunk on Firewhisky that you stole from Sirius,” Ginny reminded with a large smile, “and I never told Harry or Ron that little miss perfect prefect got pissed so I guess the kiss wasn’t that bad.”

“The word stole is so harsh. I prefer borrowed without intent to return,” Hermione told her. “Since we’ve established that you’re not assaulting me with that huge belly, are you sure you’re not having twins or maybe even triplets?, for another kiss, why, oh pregnant one, have you pulled me into the pantry?”

“Well, if you’re that desperate for a kiss, I suppose I could give you one. These hormones have me ready to rut against the bloody couch some nights,” Ginny muttered crossly.

“No offense, Gin, but I’m not that desperate for a kiss,” Hermione said with a laugh. “Now what’s wrong?”

“Oh, right.” Ginny snapped out of her scowling at pregnancy thoughts and lowered her voice, as if the flour might run off and gossip. “I don’t want Neville to know I told you.”

“You know, I have no qualms about hexing a pregnant woman except the fear you’ll sit on me in retribution so why don’t you stop procrastinating and tell me the problem?”

“Just wait, Hermione Jane Granger. One day, you’ll be as big as a house and I’m so going to repay you for being such a rude friend,” Ginny warned with an easy smile. “I am huge and everyone keeps lying and saying I look glowing. What the bloody fuck does that mean? I look like someone cast Lumos on me or I resemble a fat candle? Why can’t they just say ‘Ginny, you’re fucking huge!’? Hmph. Being pregnant shows you who your real friends are, the ones that tell you like it is and can say you look like shite when you do. By the way, that’s a fantastic dress and I so know that cow deliberately chose this one to make me look wretched but she had excellent taste with your dress. You look beautiful.”

“Perhaps it’s glowing due to carrying all that extra weight around? Your face does get rather sweaty and that can sometimes make one seem like they’re glowing,” Hermione pointed out as she leaned against a shelf and tapped her foot. “Thank you, Gin. It is a lovely dress, isn’t it? Now, what’s this about Neville?”

“Ladies don’t sweat, they perspire,” Ginny said in a voice eerily echoing Molly. “Neville, brave wonderful husband that he is, is about to hide, I think. The poor boy is having problems with the caterers. I know you’re helping the bitch, I mean, Pansy, get ready but can you please save my husband? I want him to know his child, and be there for the labor because I plan to hex his bollocks off for putting me through this if I have labor pain.”

“Problems with the caterers?” Hermione was instantly alert and in crisis mode. “What’s wrong with the food?”

“It’s awful,” Ginny whispered with a sincere frown. “I think Pansy’s aunt recommended the place? The Evil Aunt from Edinburgh, as Pansy calls her, and I’d say this confirms that nickname. It’s really not edible at all and poor Neville is freaking out amongst the plates of oddly smelling paste that are supposed to be chicken and limp green stuff that is supposed to be vegetables.”

“I’ll go help him. Can you take Pansy some chocolate to eat? She’s nervous even if she’s doing her best to seem calm and I promised her a bit of food,” Hermione explained as she opened the door to the pantry and stepped out, right into a hard body that was becoming increasingly familiar.

Rough hands that were a testament to years spent riding a broom held her elbow to keep her from toppling back, again, and she looked up into very amused gray eyes. “Granger, we really do need to quit meeting like this,” Cedric drawled as his lips curved into an easy and very flirtatious smile. “I’ve had girls fall all over me before but never quite like this.”

“Arrogant prat,” she muttered as she caught her balance and straightened, quickly glancing down to make sure her bits were properly covered this time.

“Confident and self-aware sounds much better than arrogant, wouldn’t you agree, Mrs. Longbottom?” Cedric mused as he flashed a killer smile at Ginny, who might be married and pregnant but was not dead. Though Hermione might take care of the latter if she kept giggling in that breathy sort of tone because, really, she was married!

“Arrogant is very harsh but then so is our dear Hermione,” Ginny twittered in a way that certainly sealed Hermione’s plans to take care of the lack of dead in that description.

“You’re looking nice and round this afternoon,” Cedric said in a tone that was far too charming and Hermione felt like speaking up to remind him that Ginny was taken by a rather large and stocky man that might be rather timid but could be pretty damn tough when he wanted to be, thank you very much. “Neville’s a lucky man.”

He winked at her! Hermione glowered and refused to acknowledge that she was jealous over the fact that Cedric was holding her still, rather close to that hard muscular body that was really quite nice, and flirting with a pregnant married woman who looked horrid in pink.

“Yes, he is,” Ginny said smugly and actually seemed to gloat when she looked at Hermione. “Don’t you look rather comfy like that, Hermione. Did I hear Cedric say you’ve fallen for him?”

“Cedric is a cheeky git who needs to realize that the world is not enamored with his pretty looks and nice smile,” Hermione said firmly as she glared at the smirking man in question.

“Insults from our dear Hermione are certainly a sign of affection,” Ginny confided in a loud whisper. “She’d not bother thinking them up if she didn’t care.”

“Really?” Cedric asked with interest as his fingers slowly stroked her elbow and moved along her arm slightly. “So the more she insults, the more she likes?”

“Yes,” Ginny confirmed and then had the audacity to look at Hermione with a grin and wiggle of her eyebrows. “I think I’ll leave you two to flirt and check on the bride. Hermione, don’t forget that you promised to save Neville. Perhaps Cedric can help?”

“I can do it on my own, thank you very much,” Hermione finally spoke, feeling a bit silly for simply gaping and glaring at them until this moment.

“Granger, hasn’t anyone ever told you that it’s much more fun with someone else?” Cedric asked in an innocent tone that was thick with innuendo.

“Actually, I think I might rather like to stay and watch this,” Ginny muttered as she looked from one to the other and practically leered. Hermione gave her a Look that made her grin knowingly. “But the bride needs chocolate and distraction so I’ll go entertain her while you two do whatever it is you want to do.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Hermione hissed in Ginny’s ear when the redhead gave her a half-hug.

“Of course you are,” Ginny whispered back. “You look gorgeous, Hermione, and a very handsome man who is lusted after by many women and even quite a few men is looking at you as if he wants to take you somewhere and do the most deliciously wicked things to you so forget about killing anyone and think about letting him have you.”

“You do realize he can still hear you, don’t you?” Hermione asked dryly as she glanced at Cedric and saw him smiling rather smugly and not at all offended by Ginny’s declaration that he had such wicked plans in mind for Hermione as he continued to hold her arm despite her being completely balanced.

“Being pregnant allows me to get away with things like this so just indulge me,” Ginny said with a wink. “Now I’ll run along and check on that woman who I’m still not sure is good enough for our dear Harry while you save my husband and flirt with the handsome Mister Diggory a bit more.”

“She’s going to get hexed so horribly once she has that child,” Hermione promised when Ginny hurried away from the open pantry, leaving her with a far too smug Cedric Diggory.

“Granger, you know you won’t hex her so why waste so much time making empty threats?” Cedric asked as he stepped closer to her. His fingers suddenly brushed against her cheek and her gaze swung to meet his in surprise. He pushed a few stray locks of hair behind her ear and blinked at her before he suddenly stepped back and let her arm go. His fingers ran through his disheveled hair and he licked his lips as he looked around the small hallway. For a moment she would have sworn he was nervous, which was really foolish to even consider, but it was the second time today she’d had that thought so perhaps she was right? He stared down the hall and chewed on his full bottom lip before he spoke. “What did she mean about saving Neville?”

“Oh bugger!” Hermione snapped out of her Cedric-induced daze and remembered the crisis. “The food.”

Cedric looked at her and arched a brow. “The food?”

“Ginny said it was horrible and that Neville is on the verge of a nervous breakdown. I’m to save him without him knowing she told me,” she explained as she started towards the kitchen of the inn. Cedric fell in step beside her and she did her best to ignore her reaction to the casual brush of his arm against hers as they walked or the fact that she could really just push him against the wall and sniff his neck because he smelled unbelievably good: spicy and fresh with just an underlying aroma of lemons, maybe.

Somehow, she thought he might get the wrong idea if she sniffed him so she focused on the crisis instead. She was good with solving problems, after all, and there were still a few more hours until the ceremony. Occupying those hours with a crisis she could solve was much better than dealing with Pansy’s questions and Ginny’s mood swings. Besides, it would also distract her from Cedric who seemed intent to fluster her by doing odd things like flirting and staring in a very confusing way.

“How horrible is horrible?” Cedric asked with a hint of concern. “Harry has been putting on a good show of not being nervous but he’s been pacing for the last hour, easily. That’s why I needed to get out, actually. Only so much pacing a bloke can watch, you know?”

“It will be fine,” she said firmly. “I’ll make sure it’s fine. Harry is like my little brother regardless of whether or not we actually share blood, and I’ll not have his wedding ruined by bad food.”

Cedric looked at her and grinned in a way that made her eyes narrow and she almost missed one of the three steps down, wondering when she had become so bloody clumsy and why it always had to be around this man that she looked rather foolish instead of poised and graceful. He took her arm naturally, as if it was something he did often, and she shivered slightly when she felt his warm fingers against her bare skin. “You know, Granger, when you say it will be fine, I’m inclined to believe you. Most people say that and they’re full of shite but you really mean it.”

“Why would I say it if I didn’t mean it?” she asked curiously. The kitchen had to be on the other side of the inn, of course, which she realized made a pantry on the opposite side rather impractical.

“See, that’s what I mean,” he pointed out. “You’re just---you and I’ve never met anyone quite like you before.”

He dropped his hand again but she felt his fingers tug one stray curl in a friendly way that Harry and Ron often did to let her know they were serious about something. When she looked at him out of the corner of her eyes, she could swear he might be blushing. “According to some people, that might be a very good thing indeed,” she teased lightly, knowing fully well what many people had to say about her bluntness and tendency to be rather controlling.

Before he could reply to her comment, as she saw he intended to do by the way he smiled, they arrived at the kitchen. Crisis was a very suitable word, she realized as she surveyed the food, if you could call it that. The only things that looked edible were the items from the bakery. Everything else was just horrid. Neville was standing amongst the counters of trays and looked completely lost, probably ruing the day he agreed to help Harry by looking after the food after it was determined that Ron wasn’t the best one to have supervise food.

“Hermione,” Neville said her name as if it was a lifeline and gave her the best puppy dog eyes of any of her male friends, even more so since he had no idea he was giving them to her. “It’s just awful. What do I do? People can’t eat this stuff.”

Cedric was behind her. She could feel the heat of his body even if they weren’t touching and knew one step back would have her pressed against warm firm flesh. She bit her lip to keep from laughing when he suggested, “Let them eat cake?”

“Diggory, you’re not being helpful,” she scolded as she looked up and arched a brow, giving him a prissy look she’d perfected during the last seventeen years of friendship with numerous silly boys. He gave her a grin that she had begun, in a rebellious part of her mind that refused to listen to all the reasons why she should not be thinking such things about Cedric Diggory, to refer to as hers.

“I can be very helpful, Granger. Just say the word and I’ll be more than happy to demonstrate the numerous ways,” he drawled before giving her a wink and having the cheek to brush his knuckles against her bare back before slapping her lightly on the arse.

While Cedric Diggory was always very charming to everyone, he wasn’t really much of a flirt and she certainly had never seen him display such, well, sassy behavior before. He was usually friendly but seemed ill at ease with the attention his looks and general personality brought to him. He flirted with her, though, that annoying voice reminded and she blinked at him for a moment and wondered---Food. Right, she had a food crisis to take care of at the moment.

She looked at Neville who seemed rather amused amidst his anxiety. She stepped forward and investigated the food. “This isn’t edible,” she finally declared as she tugged up her dress again.

“What do I do?” Neville asked helplessly.

“Leave it to me,” she decided as she grew thoughtful. She forgot all about Cedric and disconcerting flirting as she focused on the problem and thought of a solution. “I’ll go to town and see what I can find. I’m sure there is at least a café or two open that have take away. I know what Pansy and Harry both enjoy and have experience with enough weddings in the past to know what’s acceptable as food for the reception. I’ll also send an owl to the caterers to pick up this rubbish and remind them of the clause in the contract we signed that gave us the right to refuse the food and only have to pay a set fee. I made sure to add that stipulation after Lavender’s caterers had such a poor showing, thankfully.”

“All right,” Neville said as he nodded and gave a huge sigh of relief. “I’m so glad you came by. I didn’t know what to do. Wait, Ginny sent you, didn’t she?”

“Actually, she was running away from me, the silly girl,” Cedric spoke up. “She still refuses to put me out of my misery by giving me the time of the day, you know? Evil wench just holds my heart and is immune to my good looks and natural charm.”

“Perhaps I’m simply allergic to obnoxious arrogance?” Hermione gave him a grateful look for covering Ginny’s involvement without even having to lie beyond his ridiculous declarations of heart holding.

“Charming wit,” Cedric corrected with an easy grin.

“Haughty conceit?” she replied back with a slight smile.

“Uh, not to interrupt your, uh, whatever,” Neville interrupted, “but what do I need to do?”

Hermione shook her head slightly and looked at him. “Don’t tell anyone about the food crisis. It’s silly to make them worry about something I’ll take care of soon enough. Maybe you should go check on the flowers? I was going to stop by during my walk before I was accosted by Diggory and subjected to his harassment.”

“Harassment would insinuate that my attention was unwelcome,” Cedric pointed out lazily as his gaze swept over her, lingering on her breasts and then her lips. “I seem to remember it being a certain stunning brunette with a sharp tongue and keen wit who fell over me. Twice.”

“I’ll go check on the flowers,” Neville decided as his gaze moved from her to Cedric. He frowned at Cedric and gave him a warning look, which surprised Hermione slightly. “If you’re just playing around, I’m taller and bigger than you are and know a few hexes that will make it very painful to be in your shoes.”

Cedric nodded once, seemingly unfazed by Neville’s casual threat. “Granger’s not the type of girl one plays those games with, Longbottom.”

“No, she’s not,” Neville agreed quietly, giving him one last stern frown before he looked at Hermione and smiled sheepishly. “Thank you, Hermione. I was a bit freaked out. I’ll go check the flowers now and make sure they’re perfect. If you need help with the food, just let me know.”

He hurried from the kitchen before she could either change her mind or ask him what that unnecessary threat for Cedric had been about. She looked at Cedric and arched a brow curiously but he simply met her gaze and leaned against the counter. “Fine,” she muttered, not entirely sure what games they’d been talking about but deciding it must be some man thing, which mean she didn’t want to know. “I’m going to town.”

“No, you’re not,” Cedric said as he pushed his tall frame away from the counter and walked towards her. He grinned as he pushed his hair away from his forehead, the dark locks almost immediately falling back into disheveled sexiness. Before she could protest, he took her hand and started to walk towards the back exit of the kitchen which opened onto a path that led to the village.

“I’m not?” she managed to ask as his fingers entwined with hers in a casual way that could have been platonic if not for the awareness she felt when his palm brushed against hers.

“Nope,” he informed her as he ushered her out into the warm summer air. He smiled as he fell in step beside her, a stubborn tilt to his chin telling her not to even bother telling him she could do it on her own or to go back inside, which she had to admit she rather liked. “We’re going to town.”

End Chapter 3