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Author: TheGov Story: Defining Moments Rating: Teens Setting: Pre-HBP Status: Completed Reviews: 22 Words: 55,960
A/N: Sorry it took so long for this chapter to come out. I was not happy with the first several drafts, but finally got it straightened around. The perfectionist in me wouldn't let it go. Thanks to the beta, the ever popular and most helpful Daily Prophet Reporting. (No, the reference to the Daily Prophet in this chapter is not an oblique reference to him.J) He served this time around as a combination of editorial staff and MPAA ratings board. As always, my work is continually dedicated to my wonderful fiancée. Oh, and virtual milk and cookies to the first person to spot the reference to either a.) a Rex Harrison musical, or b.) a Garth Brooks Christmas song. Enjoy the show!
When the holidays rolled around that year, Harry had wanted to go to the Burrow for Christmas since it looked as if everyone would be there. Dumbledore politely insisted that Harry remain at Hogwarts for his own safety, so naturally, Ron, Ginny and Hermione stayed behind with him. Gryffindor Tower was otherwise empty. Not another student in the entire school had stayed for the holidays. By December 22nd, their evening routines had been well established. Harry and Ginny had gone up to bed already, leaving Ron and Hermione to "say goodnight," as Harry had put it shortly before laughing his way up the stairs. Predictably, there wasn't a whole lot of talking going on. "Goodnight, love," Ron whispered in her ear before prying himself away from her embrace. He leaned down and gave her a quick kiss on her lips before walking backwards away from her. "Goodnight, Ron. Pleasant dreams," Hermione told him, trying to catch her breath. Ron smiled at her in the way that made her blood boil. "Only of you," he teased. This was part of their routine. "Pleasant dreams to you, too." "Only of you," she said, turning and heading up the stairs. She let herself into her room. Ginny had looked up shrinking charms in the library and had used one to shrink her bed. She'd then carried it up the one flight of stairs and set it in the seventh-year dormitory. Her reasoning was that the boys could keep each other company and they should too. She was already snoring lightly from beneath her blankets. Hermione curled up on her bed, drawing her knees to her chest and gazing out the window. The sky was clear – a brilliant winter night. The moon was large, but she couldn't seem to remember if it was waxing or waning. She hoped it was waning. Otherwise, Remus would be having a terrible Christmas in a few days. She'd seen quite a bit of Remus over the summer, having spent much of it in his house. Sirius had left Harry and Remus equal shares of the Black estate and that included the house on Grimmauld Place. Remus had done an admirable job cleaning up the house, turning it into something that approached livable. At Hermione's suggestion, he had even boarded over the portrait of Mrs. Black. She would still shout if stirred by loud noise, but the threshold was much higher now and her screams had been reduced to muffled echoes. You could almost carry on a normal conversation in the entryway. Hermione sighed and placed her head down on her knees. It was no use, she thought. Trying to think about Mrs. Black isn't even working. Lately it was getting harder and harder to ignore the tingling feelings in her that lingered even after breaking physical contact with Ron. The things he made her feel were incredible. She felt as if every nerve ending was on fire. And she knew that trying to sleep in this state would be useless. She'd close her eyes and see his face, and then if she concentrated a little, she could smell him. It wasn't too hard in the last few months though, as she had taken to sleeping in a Chudley Cannons t-shirt she'd nicked from him. Next came the feel of his arms around her: safe, warm and comfortable. Then came the feel of his lips on hers. After that she felt his body pressed up against hers. And now the fireworks start, she thought. She sighed and opened her eyes to her nearly empty dormitory. It was during nights like this that she really, really missed her mum. She knew that her mother must have gone through a time like this, and she would have liked to know how she had dealt with it. They'd had "the Talk," after all, but at the time they'd had it, it was all theory and hypotheticals. And she hadn't had much time with her mother after she'd started seeing Ron. There had really been only one discussion of her relationship with Ron, and lately it kept coming back to her. She closed her eyes and thought back. Last year's Yule Ball had been on the last weekend before the holiday, unlike the fourth-year ball that had been on Christmas. This fortuitous bit of scheduling had allowed her to go home for Christmas. Despite repeated entreaties from Ron for her to stay, she'd had to go, as her parents had been hosting Christmas dinner that year for the family and she had little choice in the matter. All her living relatives had shown up: her aunts, uncles, and cousins large and small. And, of course, the most formidable person there had been her grandmother. Her father had once described her as a "consort battleship", which had resulted in him being hit over the head with a dishrag. Hermione loved her grandmother. She was bright and intelligent, and had all these wonderful memories. She was a tower of strength. Hermione's only regret was that she didn't get to see her grandmother very often. Her advanced age had confined her to a wheelchair and she lived, quite happily mind you, in an old folks home some distance away. Hermione only saw her occasionally, and then usually around holidays. The conversation had happened after dinner as Hermione helped her mother clean up. Her grandmother had positioned her chair at the head of the table as they bustled around her. "So, how is Ron?" her mother had asked. Ron's owl had arrived earlier in the day with a package that Hermione had quickly stashed in her room to avoid attracting attention from the cadre of relatives. "He's good. He says he misses me," Hermione admitted. "And you miss him?" her mother had asked, with her mouth curved up in a smile. "Yeah," she had said. "I do. It's like…He can be so infuriating sometimes, but I just…" she shrugged, "can't get enough of him." "Sounds like your grandfather," Grandmum had piped up. "He and I hated each other, right up until the moment we fell in love." Hermione had turned to her grandmother. "What was he like?" she asked. Grandfather had passed away when she was very young. "He was the most wonderful man I ever knew. He could be stubborn as a mule sometimes, and dumb as dirt, but then, when you least expected it, he'd do something so completely and totally selfless and marvelous that you had to love him for it. He may have looked like he didn't know what he was doing, but on the inside, he was all heart and all brains." Hermione had realized that Grandmum could easily have been talking about Ron. "That's why I couldn't let him get away." "What do you mean?" Hermione had asked. "Well, he was going to ship out to the continent for the war. So I told him we were getting married." Hermione had laughed. "And what did he say?" "Well, as I recall, he was kind of speechless. You see, Hermione, when you're that much in love with someone, and he's about to leave you, you tend to see a lot of things differently. We never intended to get married before he left." "So what happened?" "Well, your great-grandfather decided that since your Aunt Agnes was already on the way, your grandfather had better marry me or he was going to take care of your grandfather before the Germans got the chance." "Mum!" her mother had broken in. "Hermione doesn't need to be hearing these stories." "Never you mind," her grandmother had said. "The girl needs to know the truth about life. Sometimes there are things worth waiting for. And sometimes there are things that shouldn't wait until you never have the chance." Her Aunt Agnes had walked in from the living room at that moment, and the conversation ended. Hermione had never had another chance to talk about her relationship with Ron with her mother. She only had that much advice from her grandmother to go on. What did it mean, anyway? Her grandfather had been about to fight in a desperate war from which he might not have come back. And this is different from your situation how? the small voice in the back of her head asked. She sighed and crawled under her covers. She was tired of waiting. She didn't want to wait until it was too late for anything. Maybe we should just find someone to marry us in Hogsmeade the next time we have a weekend there. She chuckled to herself at the absurdity of the notion, but then paused. Ron and I have never really discussed when we're going to marry, she realized. Maybe we should. Maybe we could get married this summer…? She sat back up in bed. "Accio planner," she whispered quietly, and the book popped out of her bag and she flipped through it. Grabbing her a spare bit of parchment and a quill, she began to take some notes by moonlight. She sketched out a few ideas until her eyelids grew heavy. Then she lay back down, not bothering to move her work. She drifted off, but the last thing she heard echoing in her head were her grandmother's words: "Sometimes there are things that shouldn't wait until you never have the chance." -- -- -- -- Ron turned on the cold tap, let it run, and then stepped into the shower. He gasped involuntarily as the cold water hit him. He stood under it, letting the chill penetrate all the way to his bones, feeling the heat drain out of him. Soon he was shivering uncontrollably, and he turned off the water and began to towel off. In the recent months he'd found himself under the cold water more frequently than ever. I am a master of self-control, he told himself. I would never dream of pressing an advantage. I am a gentleman. He repeated his mantra over and over in his head. He dressed and made his way into his silent dormitory room. "Harry, mate, you awake?" Ron whispered, looking over at the dark lump on Harry's bed. "Sure thing, Ron. What's up?" Harry asked. Ron hesitated. "Just saying goodnight mate, that's all." "Oh, well, goodnight," Harry replied. Ron lay down in his bed, drawing his blankets up tight around him to ward off the chill that he'd just given himself in the shower. He stared up at the ceiling and tried to will himself to drift off. Even sleeping was difficult these days. He wished he could talk to someone. He was positive Harry would never want to hear about the kinds of things he wanted to talk about, if only because it was Hermione they were talking about and Harry was very protective of his adopted sister. He could sympathize. He could only imagine what it would be like having to try and listen to someone talk about Ginny that way. He shuddered a little at the mental image he'd just given himself. But Harry was certainly the only person at Hogwarts with whom Ron would have felt remotely comfortable talking. Everyone else had too big a mouth. Seamus, with his constant why-don't-you-two-just-find-a-nook-somewhere-and-do-it comments, was definitely out of the question; Dean, likewise. Neville was a good friend, but not that good of a friend, and he tended to be a little prudish anyway. No, there wasn't anyone at Hogwarts. If he could have reached his brothers, on the other hand, that would have been nice. For the first time, he regretted not going home for Christmas, where the rest of the family was gathering. Bill or Charlie, he could have talked to either of them. The twins, understanding as they'd been about the whole engagement ring situation, were out of the question for this discussion. They'd only laugh and give him sordid advice. Percy, well…was Percy, and Ron still wasn't sure he was speaking to him yet. Of all the brothers, Ron had the hardest time accepting him back, mainly because of the letter during fifth year. That summer at home, shortly after he'd returned from Hogwarts, his father had sat him down and they'd had a highly awkward talk about his relationship with Hermione. Dad had referred to it as a "refresher course" on "the Talk" they'd had when Ron had turned 14. Mainly, it had been a reminder about the possible consequences of not being careful and a suggestion that he really shouldn't put Hermione in that kind of position. His mum hadn't been much better, never allowing him to visit Hermione at Grimmauld Place unless she knew someone was there or Ginny went with him. His mother could be as subtle as a Bludger sometimes, and it had produced some hilarious results. She'd tried to cast a spell on the living room couch once when Hermione came over. The spell was designed to throw anyone off the couch who didn't have one foot on the floor. The grand result of that experiment was that when Mr. Weasley came home for dinner that evening and tried to relax on the couch, he'd found himself face down on the floor instead. They'd all had a good laugh over that one. So, Ron was out here on this limb all by himself. He had to navigate this one on his own. Some girls liked it when guys made the first move. Obviously, Hermione had wanted him to make the first move when she'd been mad at him for not asking her out. But did that mean she would want him to make the first move now? He was afraid if he did she'd go along out of sense of obligation rather than actually wanting it. So should he wait for her to make the first move? What if she was waiting for him to make the first move though? Well, he thought, there's nothing really wrong with waiting, after all. We're engaged, it's not like either of us is leaving one another. I can wait if I have to, he supposed, thinking back to his cold shower. He shivered involuntarily. At that moment, Harry began to whimper a little in his sleep, bringing Ron back to the unwelcoming and dangerous present. Ron resisted the urge to wake Harry up. Harry had told him that he needed to fight the dreams on his own. Ron only woke him up if Harry began to thrash or scream. Ron listened intently, and Harry rolled over and his breathing evened back out. Sighing in relief, Ron went back to his own thoughts. What if I don't have the time to wait? he thought. The war could fall on their doorstep almost any day. Things were getting worse out there. Ron knew it was only a matter of time before Voldemort made a serious attempt to get Harry. Ron knew what that might mean. That was, after all, why he had proposed to her early. That doesn't mean you have to rush into a physical relationship, one part of him said. Who says it's rushing? another asked. He shook his head. This was pointless. He was just going around in circles in his head. He had plenty of reasons to wait, but they also had plenty of reasons not to. What did she want? How would he bring up the subject anyway? Hey Hermione, want to sneak off to a broom closet and shag? Oh yeah, that would go over well. He just wished he could get some advice, a sign or something, to tell him what he should do. Bringing the war into this makes things too complicated. I'm going to survive, he told himself. I have to. I want to marry her, and raise children with her. Nothing, not even Voldemort, can stop me from getting back to her. I just have to assume I have all the time in the world. He sighed, rolled over, and tried to drift off to sleep. It did not happen easily. -- -- -- -- The next day, the weather was unseasonably warm. Harry and Ginny had gone out to the Quidditch pitch to chase the Quaffle around. Ron and Hermione stayed behind in the common room. They sat on the couch, staring at the fire, Ron's right hand entwined with Hermione's left, the ring sparkling on her finger. Ron glanced down at Hermione, her bushy hair tickling his neck where she leaned against his shoulder. How did I get so lucky? he thought. "You're beautiful, you know that?" he said. Hermione looked up at him. "And where did that come from, you silly boy?" She smiled. "I'm not as beautiful as you think." "You are to me. I'm a lucky man." "And just how lucky are you?" "I have you. You love me! ME! Ronald Weasley. You know, the guy the Daily Prophet calls 'Harry Potter's sidekick'? The hero is supposed to get the girl, but not this time. I have the most beautiful witch in the world." Hermione gave a very unladylike snort to indicate her opinion of the current Daily Prophet editorial staff and shook her head. "You're the only man I want Ron. You're perfect. Perfect for me. You match me completely." "And you match me." They snuggled contentedly against each other, watching the fire burn down to embers. I wonder if she ever thinks about the future, Ron thought. He decided to find out. "So where do you want to live?" Ron asked. Hermione looked up in surprise. "I don't know. Why?" "We should start thinking about it," Ron said. "Why? We need to concentrate on the present, trying to get through this…." "No," Ron said forcefully. "I want to think about the future. I refuse to acknowledge the possibility that there might not be one. I'll fight anything, and survive anything, just to make sure that I can be right next to you every day, 'til I'm as old as Dumbledore. And that's a promise. Nothing can keep me from you." Hermione looked up at him adoringly. "I know Ron," she said, caressing his cheek. "I know." He leaned down and kissed her, and she allowed a solitary tear to escape, a tear of pure joy and wonder for this man loving her. This selfless and loyal man was hers, her fiancé. And I'm never going to let him go. Not now, not ever. And Ron could believe all he wanted about coming back to her, but she knew what the real odds were. She wasn't about to wait for something she might never have the chance to do. "Ron," she said swallowing. Here we go. "Let's get married." He chuckled. "We are getting married, love," he replied. "No, I mean soon." "Soon?" Ron's brow furrowed in confusion. "Like, how soon?" "Well," she quirked her mouth into a smile. "I'd say tomorrow, but it's a little short notice. How about right after we finish school?" He blinked at her. Ron was flabbergasted. "You're serious about this?" "Of course I'm serious." A familiar twinkle came into Ron's eye, and he had to work hard to cover his smirk. Hermione glared at him. "Don't even think about saying what you were about to say, Ronald Weasley. You and I both know the Sirius joke is older than both of us." He attempted to school his features into something less like a smirk. "Of course, dear, wouldn't dream of it." He tried to placate her. "Serio…" She caught herself as Ron struggled not to laugh. "Honestly, though, Ron. Let's get married – this summer. Right after school gets out." Ron put on the face he usually wore while playing chess, the one he called "seeing the whole board". He tilted his head from side to side, considering. It's not without merit. "Why?" "Because I don't want to wait any longer," Hermione replied. She brushed his face with her hand. "I'm tired of waiting. We don't have the time to waste, and you and I both know it." Ron nodded. She was right. Of course she is, she's always right. "So how does one go about planning a wedding?" he asked. Hermione hesitated. "Well, we should owl your mum and dad and get them to help us, if they can. We'll need to book a church. That will be the hardest part, really, because I thought we might have a small wedding and have the reception at the Burrow. If we do it in the summer, the flowers in the garden will be in bloom, and hopefully, we'll have good weather." "You've given this some thought," he observed. Hermione shrugged. "A little," she admitted. "I'm surprised you didn't just hand me a notebook with the wedding plan, and instructions on when and where to arrive and how to be dressed," he teased. "Git," she pouted at him, and smacked him gently on the shoulder. "Oh, don't do that," he groaned. "Why not?" she pouted again. "Because I'll have to kiss that cute pout of yours away," he said, suiting action to words. She smiled at him and gently pushed him away. She raised her wand. "Accio planner!" Her planner came careening down the stairs, stuffed with notes and papers. She caught it and opened it. "Here's the Leaving Feast," she pointed out. "And here's the weekend after. Saturday, June 20th, what do you think, darling?" "What if we waited a week?" he suggested. "Give ourselves a bit more time to get organized and adjusted." "So, June 27th?" she asked. He nodded. "If we can get a church," he said. "June the 27th, my wedding anniversary. Better start remembering it now, or I'll be forever forgetting it." He grinned. Hermione rolled her eyes. "Men," she sighed. Ron stood up and grabbed a piece of parchment from the odds-and-ends stack on the common room table. He disappeared up the stairs and returned a moment later with an envelope. He showed the parchment to Hermione. Dear Mum, Hermione and I have decided we'd like to get married this summer. Would you please check the availability of St. Jonathan's for Saturday, June 27th? Owl back as soon as possible, as we need to get the planning started as quickly as we can. Love, Ron "Looks good," she told him. He smiled, and wordlessly they left the common room for the short walk to the owlery. Pig flew down to meet them, chirping madly and fluttering about. Ron tied the letter on his leg and sent him flitting off. They watched him go and returned to the common room. They stood in front of the big window and looked off toward the south. Ron turned to her and they locked eyes, goofy grins spreading over their faces. "We're getting married." "In six months. A lot to do." Ron shrugged. "Mum's probably dying to help out. I'm sure we'll sort it all out." "Should we tell Harry and Ginny?" she asked. "Let's wait until we hear from Mum," he said. "When we're sure." He grinned, and leaned down and kissed Hermione soundly. "I'll get to do that every morning." "Mmmhmmm," Hermione agreed. "And I'll get to do this every morning." She slipped a cold hand underneath the back of Ron's shirt. "Ahh! Hey! That's cold!" He jumped. "My feet are worse," she told him. "I'm freezing over here. Why are you always so warm?" she asked. He shrugged. "Just lucky I guess." He tickled her in retaliation. "Stop!" she giggled, squirming. She slipped off the couch and onto the hearth rug, and Ron followed her down and they lay next to each other on the rug. He kissed her, and soon Hermione felt as if she were absolutely going to burn right through the rug, the floor, and every floor below her all the way to the dungeons. "Ron," she panted. Reluctantly, he started to pull away. "I know, we should stop," he groaned. She grabbed his arm and held him, locking her eyes onto his. "No, Ron, that's not what I was going to say," she said. "It wasn't?" Ron was confused. "What were you going to say?" "I was going to say that, if we're going to continue our activities, perhaps we should move somewhere more comfortable?" Ron's eyes widened in surprise. "Are you sure? We can wait. We're getting married in a few months, now." "I'm sure Ron," she said. "Sometimes there are things that shouldn't wait until you never have the chance." She smiled at him. "Besides, I want our marriage to be perfect, and everyone knows that practice makes perfect." She grinned at him impishly. He laughed, and grabbed her arms, hauling her up. She gave a little shriek as he scooped her up in his arms and carried her up the stairs to the boys' dormitory. -- -- -- -- "This is nice," Hermione said, curling up to him. They'd been talking about the wedding for the last hour or so, and the sun was now low in the sky. They'd discussed guest lists, the menu at the reception and even where to go on the honeymoon. They both felt a little blown away by the sudden immediacy of the event. Ron nodded. "Mmm," he agreed, planting gentle kisses on her shoulder. "We should get up." "Not yet," he begged. "Just lie with me." "I'm going to fall asleep." "Okay," Ron said cheerfully. "That's not a good idea," she yawned. "What if Harry comes back?" "He knows to mind his own business," he said. Then he smiled at her. "You're wonderful, perfect, and I can't wait to marry you." He paused for a long moment, head cocked to one side. "We're getting married, hopefully, in roughly 186 days." "You did math in your head?" she asked, smirking at him. "Why didn't you take Arithmancy?" "Remarkable what a man can do with the proper motivation," he smirked right back at her. She rolled her eyes. "What did I do to deserve you?" she asked rhetorically, sighing. "Don't know, but you're stuck with me now." He paused and turned serious. "I love you, Hermione. I'd do anything for you." "I love you too, Ron. You're my everything. You and your family and Harry – you're all I have left. I'm never letting you go." "I'm never going to let you go, Hermione. You will never have to doubt it." "I know." He pulled her head to his chest and held her until her breathing evened out and he knew that she was asleep. He closed his eyes and followed her into his dreams. -- -- -- -- Ron and Hermione were gone when Harry and Ginny returned. "I'm going to go put my broom away. I'll be back, and we'll go see if we can't scrounge up some food. If you see Ron and Hermione, invite them along," Harry told Ginny. "Sounds good, Harry. I'll be right down." Ginny disappeared up to the girls' dormitory, and Harry trudged up the stairs to the boys' dormitory. He opened the door and made his way over to the bed. He leaned his broom up against the wall, drew his cloak out of his trunk, and pulled the map out from its hiding place under the bed. He was just about to turn to go when a soft sigh froze him in his tracks. No, no, no, no, no…I'm dreaming…. No, I'm having a nightmare. Harry closed his eyes tightly and turned. Slowly, ever so slowly, he cracked open one eye. From where he was standing, Harry could see the back of Ron's head poking from beneath the blanket. He was lying on his side with his back to Harry, and all Harry could see of Hermione was a lump of brown bushy hair peaking over Ron's shoulders. Harry felt his face burning up and squeezed his eye shut again. Making a snap decision, he grabbed his pajamas off the end of his bed and fled the dormitory. Ginny looked at him curiously as he came tearing into the common room. "Harry? Is everything all right?" Harry took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. "Harry?" "Well…" he stammered, "I found Ron and Hermione." "Oh?" Ginny was confused. "Where?" "Upstairs…in the dormitory." "Did you walk in on them snogging?" Ginny laughed. "That's funny…." "Not exactly," Harry said weakly. "What do you mean, not exactly?" Ginny's eyes widened in horror as she began to comprehend what Harry was trying to say. "Harry, you don't mean they were…?" Ginny put her hands to her mouth and turned a lovely shade of pink. "I don't know," Harry admitted. "I didn't actually see anything except them lying in bed together, asleep. But, well, it's Ron and Hermione. Would it surprise you?" Ginny shook her head. "No it wouldn't." She paused. "They could have been taking a nap together." Ginny said hopefully. "Well, I suppose they could have been, but they could have done that down here on the couch," Harry pointed out. "But we don't know for certain, so I'm not going back up there. Not until they come down." He held up his clothes. "I'll sleep on the couch tonight." Ginny nodded. "That's probably a good idea." There was a long silence as they stared at each other. Ginny suddenly giggled. "What?" "I wonder if my brother is any good?" "GINNY!" Harry threw his hands over his ears. "I don't even want to think about it! We're not even sure that's what happened." "Still, though, it could have been. Don't you boys talk about these kind of things? We've suffered through Lavender bragging about Seamus, you can't tell me you haven't had to listen to Seamus talk about Lavender." Harry glared at her. "Of course we have. That doesn't mean we like it." "But you can't tell me you're not curious," she persisted. "Hermione is my honorary sister! I don't think about her that way! And I really wanted to keep it that way, but first your brother, and now you," he emphasized, "have gone and given me mental images I never wanted in my head." He grabbed the invisibility cloak. "I'm going for food. What do you want?" -- -- -- -- "So what are you going to say to him tomorrow morning?" Ginny asked as they munched on cold roast beef sandwiches and sipped their pumpkin juice. Harry sighed. "I don't know. I've half a mind to be mad at him, but I really can't find it in me. I suppose I should ask…." Harry trailed off. "But how does one go about doing that, anyway? Gee, Ron, what were you and Hermione up to, anyway?" He sighed. "I guess I don't really care either way. If they're happy, I'm happy. I just want them to live. Get married, have kids, grow old together. I mean, they're so happy together. I wish I could find someone and be that happy." Ginny smiled at him. "You will someday, Harry. You will someday." "I hope so." There was a pause as they looked at the fire. "Care for a game of chess, Harry? You can practice on me. Maybe I can teach you how to beat my brother." Harry snorted. "Like that's ever going to happen. But I'm up for a game if you are." "You're on," Ginny said, pulling her brother's chessboard toward the couch. -- -- -- -- "Hermione." She stirred. "Hermione?" "Ron?" She looked up. She was disoriented. Ron was in bed with her. She sat up as events began to catch up with her. We really…? Hermione felt deliciously satisfied. Well, Grandmum, I took your advice. I definitely wouldn't want to have missed this, not for anything. He smiled at her. "We're getting married, and in 185 days…or so," he quickly appended. "And we'll get to do this every day. Every morning." She sighed, and smiled at him. "What time is it?" she asked as she yawned and stretched. So much for distracting her. "Oh…um…well, I think we slept a little long." This isn't going to go over well, Ron thought. "Oh? What time is it?" "7 o'clock." Wait for it…. "At night? It was only 3 when we came up here." "In the morning," he said, wincing a little. She jerked her head around, scanning the room. "Where's Harry?" "In the common room, probably. His broom is back, so that means he's been in here." He's going to be hacked off, Ron thought. I'm in for it now. "Oh." That's it. I officially want to die of embarrassment, Hermione thought. "We should go get some food," Ron suggested. "Yeah," she agreed. This is so embarrassing. He kissed her once more before they got up. He took her hand. "Hermione?" I have to know…. "Yes, Ron?" "You don't…well…there aren't any regrets, are there? Because I sure don't have any." Please say no. Please say no. She smiled at him. "Of course not Ron. No regrets. Well, I mean, I wish we hadn't fallen asleep and forced Harry out of his own room, but beyond that? No, Ron, I have no regrets. I should hope there wouldn't be if we're getting married in, what, 185 days?" "Good," he said, relieved. "And yes, it's 185." He kissed her gently. She grinned, and then came back to reality. She groaned, looking around the dormitory. "What will Harry think?" Hermione sighed. "He's a big boy, he'll get over it," Ron said. I hope. "Besides," Ron began hopefully, "maybe Pig will be back soon, and we can distract him with wedding plans." Ron looked eagerly over to the window, hoping to see Pig winging his way toward the window. He watched for a moment or two in vain, and his face fell. Hermione shook her head at him. When they got to the common room, they found that Harry had indeed fallen asleep there. He was curled up on the couch. Ginny was curled up in one of the chairs, and Crookshanks was purring contentedly on top of Harry. Harry stirred, and the cat jumped down. Harry sat up, blinked, and stretched. He took his glasses off the end table and settled them on his face before turning around and spotting them. "Hi," he said. He eyed them neutrally. There was a silence. Ginny woke up and looked between Harry and the others. Well, someone has to do something, she thought. Can't leave them staring at each other like that all day. "I'm starving," she announced, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "I'm getting dressed to go to breakfast. C'mon Hermione." She stood up and dragged Hermione up the stairs toward the girls' dormitory. Ron gave Hermione a pleading glance, but she could only shrug as she was bodily dragged away. Ron and Harry were alone. "Look, mate," Ron began. Harry cut him off. "Ron, I'm not sure I really want to know, but I'm asking anyway. What happened last night?" Ron swallowed. "We…uh…well, we let things get out of control last night, Harry. I'm sorry. We shouldn't have been in there when you got back." I should tell him now, Ron thought. And what would telling him accomplish? Ron asked himself. Distracting him from what he's about to yell at me for? That wouldn't be right. After all, Ron thought, I probably deserve it. "'Let things get out of control'? Ron, you'd better tell me that what happened last night was not something either of you regret, because if you don't, I'm going to have to hurt you, badly, for Hermione's sake." Ron grimaced at the thought. "No, Harry. There are no regrets. I asked." Harry looked at him levelly for a long moment. "You love her?" "Yes," Ron answered automatically, "I'm bloody engaged to her. We're going to get married." Soon, Ron didn't add. "You'll take good care of her?" "Yes." "You won't follow me into the last battle because you've got a responsibility to her?" "Harry, you can't make me promise that," Ron replied in exasperation. Harry sighed. "No, I suppose you're right." His eyes hardened, however. "But as God is my witness, Ronald Weasley, if you do anything stupid and get yourself killed, I will make your afterlife so miserable you will wish you were dead again." He paused. "And if you hurt her at all, what I do to you will make what I do to Malfoy look good by comparison." Ron swallowed hard. Harry had sworn revenge on the Malfoys when Lucius had killed Hermione's parents. He nodded. "Good. We understand each other." Harry's eyes lost their coldness, and Ron breathed a sigh of relief. "So, what made you decide…?" Because we're getting married. "Hermione said something before we… Well, I think I understand it now," he said. "Something about things not being worth waiting for if you never have the chance, or something like that." "Permissum nos comedo imbibo et exsisto hilaris pro cras nos intereo," Harry whispered, remembering reading the proverb somewhere. "What was that mate?" Ron looked at him strangely. "Nothing, forget it." Harry put his arm around his friend. "C'mon, you must be starving. Wait here while I put some clothes on, and we'll go down to breakfast. -- -- -- -- Except to exchange pleasantries, Hermione and Ginny didn't really talk upstairs in the dormitory, though Ginny kept giving Hermione meaningful glances that she couldn't quite interpret. When they went down for food, the boys were already there, laughing and joking, which Hermione interpreted as a good sign. It was an even better sign when she took her customary place beside Ron and he kissed her warmly on the cheek while Harry winked at her. Harry didn't appear at all fazed by the events of the previous evening, and Hermione was very grateful. And soon, we'll have more good news to give them. Hermione found her thoughts drifting to the wedding. I wonder what color for the bridesmaids? Who will I pick? How many will I have to have? she thought suddenly, thinking of Ron's five brothers. "Hermione?" Harry was staring at her with a smirk on his face, abruptly bringing her back to Earth. It was obvious that it wasn't the first time he'd tried to elicit a response from her. "I'm sorry, what?" "I said, 'Could you pass the bacon?'" Harry said, chuckling. "Mind somewhere else this morning, Hermione?" "Yeah," she admitted weakly, passing the plate. It was obvious that Harry was adjusting well to what had happened the previous evening, and Hermione was just as glad he was taking it this well. Soon they were cracking jokes, complaining about classes and wondering what they would all get for Christmas as if nothing had happened. After breakfast, they returned to the common room. The weather, so beautiful the previous day, had taken a turn for the worse, with sleet and freezing rain coming down outside. There would be no Quidditch today, and the boys gave every impression of settling down by the fire for a Ron-kicking-Harry's-arse-at-chess-five-times-in-a-row marathon, so Hermione began to head to the girls' dormitory. "Where are you off to, love?" Ron called. "Just upstairs to get cleaned up a bit," she replied. "Change, maybe take a shower." She shrugged. "All right then. Come on back when you're done. Maybe you can play the winner." He grinned at her. "Maybe she'd rather play the loser," Harry suggested. "At least she can beat me." "You've got the brains to play this game, Harry," Ron said, "just not the patience." Hermione disappeared up the stairs, shaking her head at them. Ginny followed on up behind her. Ron and Harry watched them go. "You're a lucky guy, Ron." "I know," he replied softly. "I know." I'm getting married in 185 days…I hope. I wonder if Mum got in touch with the church…. He imagined the look on his mum's face and poor Pig dancing around the room while she either blew up or cried. "I hope I live long enough to have what you do," Harry said, startling Ron out of his reverie. "What do you mean?" Ron asked. "I hope I live long enough to find someone to love and love me as much as you and Hermione love each other," Harry replied, pushing his glasses up his face and pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "Some days, I wonder if I'll make it long enough to meet someone." "You will, Harry. You will," Ron assured him, casting a second glance up the stairs toward the girls' dormitory. "And you might be surprised how easy it might be," he suggested, raising an eyebrow. "What are you getting at?" Harry asked, furrowing his eyebrows. Ron sighed. "Nothing, Harry. Forget it. It's your move." In more ways than one, Ron thought. -- -- -- -- "Hermione?" Ginny asked as they entered the seventh-year dormitory. "Yeah?" Hermione turned and saw Ginny standing there with a torn look on her face. Ginny looked as if she was struggling to say something important. Hermione watched various emotions play themselves out across Ginny's face before she finally closed her eyes and sighed heavily. "Your hair looks like it's a mess," Ginny said, opening her eyes again. "Would you like me to brush it out for you?" "Sure," Hermione replied, settling down on the bed and handing Ginny the brush. Ginny sat behind her and began to work the brush through her hair. Hermione winced as it caught. "This is really bad," Ginny said. "What did my brother do to your hair anyway?" "I think he slept on it." Hermione giggled a little. And with any luck, he'll be doing that for years to come. Ginny snorted, and then there was a pause. "Hermione…did you…really?" Hermione sighed. "Yes, we did." Hermione was blushing furiously. Ginny put down the brush and hugged Hermione. "Hermione, I'm so happy for you. I mean, you love each other, and you're getting married, and you have the perfect relationship." Ginny paused again. "But maybe…we could pretend that he's not my brother? So you have some one to talk to? And I can hear about it from someone?" Hermione considered. "I suppose, if you want to," she said. "But on one condition," she said. This really doesn't qualify as spilling beans, I'm only asking in general terms. "When Ron and I do get married, Ginny, will you be my maid of honor?" "Hermione!" Ginny squealed. "Of course I will!" Ginny gave her a big hug. "I'm honored. There isn't anyone I'd rather stand up for." "And there isn't anyone I'd rather ask," Hermione said. "So I guess I'll answer your questions." She smirked. "Does this mean when you take up with Harry, I have to forget that he's my honorary brother?" Ginny made a face. "That's not going to happen anytime soon, so I wouldn't worry," she said sourly. And then she brightened. "So tell me about this passionate affair you're having," she demanded. "How did it happen? What was it like?" Hermione giggled. "Well…." -- -- -- -- "Ron?" Harry had lost again. The girls had yet to emerge from upstairs, though the sound of giggling could be heard in the common room. "What do you suppose they're talking about?" Ron asked absently, not really hearing Harry. I wonder who Hermione will pick for bridesmaids? She said she was going to ask Ginny. I suppose she'll pick Parvati and Lavender. Who else? "Probably your sordid affair with your fiancée," Harry pointed out. Ron glared at him, and silence returned as they set up the chessboard again. "What were you going to say anyway?" Ron asked after a time. "I was going to say that, if you wanted, I could sleep down here on the couch again tonight." Ron locked onto Harry's eyes, and Harry looked away. "I mean, why waste this kind of opportunity," he said. "No one's really here, and no one will ever hear anything from me. And why not take every opportunity you get?" Harry asked rhetorically, and they both knew that he was talking about so much more than Gryffindor Tower being empty. "Harry, I don't know what to say," Ron said finally. "Then don't say anything. Just accept this as my apology for dragging you off hither, thither and yon at great mortal peril." Ron nodded. "We're going to be fine, Harry. We're all going to make it." "I hope you're right, Ron," Harry replied. "I want to see my nieces and nephews some day. The ones with red, bushy hair." Ron laughed, but felt his heart constrict a little as he had a sudden vision of Hermione holding a tiny baby with wispy red hair in her arms. "Right. But not yet." "No, not yet," Harry agreed. There was a tapping at the window, and Ron jumped up and opened it. Pig flew in excitedly, carrying a water-stained slip of parchment. Pig immediately perched himself by the fire, shaking off the snow and ice. Ron took the parchment from him and dug in his pocket for an owl treat, which Pig devoured greedily. "Hermione!" Ron called, opening the parchment. "Pig's back!" Hermione came thundering down the stairs. "Really? What did your mum say?" she asked, out of breath. Ginny followed on behind, looking as confused as Harry felt. Ron's eyes scanned the parchment, and a huge grin split his face. He gave a whoop, and swept Hermione up in a huge embrace, swinging her full circle around the room. The parchment floated to the ground, forgotten. Ginny picked it up and read aloud. "Dear Ron, I was not surprised to get your letter. I'll be honest with you that it seems like this is all a bit rushed, but I understand the reasoning behind it, even without you telling me. I Flooed to Diagon Alley and spoke with the Friar Harmon. I've reserved the church for 2 pm on Saturday June 27th. Please have Hermione get in touch with me as soon as possible. We have a lot to do. Love, Mum" "Ron?" Harry asked in wonderment. "We didn't want to tell you until we were sure," Ron admitted. "Hermione and I are getting married on the 27th of June." "Congratulations!" Ginny exclaimed, giving her brother a hug. "I'm so proud of you, Ron." "Congratulations, Hermione," Harry said, hugging her and giving her cheek a kiss. "I still don't know what you see in the big lug, but if he makes you happy, I'm all for it." "Thank you, Harry," Hermione whispered. She turned to Ron. "Ginny's already agreed to be the maid of honor." "Good." Ron smiled. "Let me know when you sort out the other five bridesmaids," he snickered. "I suppose I'm going to have to stand up for you," Harry joked. "I think I'm going to have to sit down." He smirked. The other three groaned, and Ron cleared his throat. "Actually, Harry, Hermione had a thought." Harry looked at Hermione questioningly. "Ron and I talked about this last night," she said. "We wondered if you would walk me down the aisle?" "And stand up for me," Ron added. Harry blinked at them in surprise. "Do both?" Hermione nodded. "I've kept my aunt and uncle so far removed from my magical life, I don't even feel like I know them," Hermione admitted. "And you are my brother, after all, Harry." "And there's no law that says you can't do both," Ron pointed out. Harry smiled. "I'm touched, guys. I'd be honored." They grinned, and Ginny wiped a tear away. "This calls for some food!" Harry announced. "Accio Invisibility Cloak!" A few minutes later, they were all sitting around the common room with stolen food and butterbeers, jovially enjoying the season. They lost track of time, and when the big clock struck midnight, it took them all by surprise. Silence fell on the room. "Happy Christmas," Ginny finally said. "Happy Christmas." Ron smiled and kissed Hermione on the cheek. Harry nodded, blinking. He'd forgotten it had been Christmas Eve. Without warning, softly, Ginny began to sing "Silent Night." It was one of those perfect moments in time that Ron would remember with stunning clarity. Here they all were, most of them less than a year from being front-line players in a war that was taking lives almost daily, sharing in this moment: midnight on Christmas Day, peace, love and joy surrounding them, with the soft tones of "Silent Night" sung barely above a whisper wrapping around them. Hermione, who had been through so much since last Christmas, was here next to him, his forever. By next Christmas, if they made it that far, she would be his wife. Hermione Weasley…has a nice ring to it, Ron told himself. His sister was sitting across from him, and she was growing up and turning into a fine young woman – and a good friend. And there was Harry, sitting in the chair by the fire: Harry, who had so much on his shoulders, who couldn't seem to let it all go. Even in this moment of peace, he had a look of pensive contemplation on his face as he joined in the singing. When the song ended, Ron found his throat a little tight, and his eyes stinging. He looked around at his friends, and saw that their eyes were also sparkling with unshed tears. He cleared his throat and raised his bottle of butterbeer. "To the old year, to those who can't be with us here, to those who we miss, and to the hope for the peace of Christmas all year through," he said. "To new beginnings," Ginny said, smiling at Ron and Hermione. "To my parents," Hermione said, sniffing a little. "To peace," Harry whispered. "May we finally have some." Bottles clinked, and they drank. Well, Ron thought, if this is my last Christmas on this earth, at least it was a good one. He smiled to himself. And here's hoping it's not. He leaned down and kissed Hermione, and she smiled up at him. "Happy Christmas, darling," she whispered. "Happy Christmas, love. Happy Christmas." -- -- -- -- A/N: Permissum nos comedo imbibo et exsisto hilaris pro cras nos intereo translates roughly as "Let us eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we die."
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