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Author: RinnaMarie Story: The Favour Rating: Young Teens Setting: Pre-DH Status: WIP Warning: None Reviews: 8 Words: 17,912
Hermione’s eyes brimmed with tears as the maid of honor adjusted the full train of Sasha’s gown. Sasha and Ian positively beamed at each other, looking happier than Hermione could have imagined. Despite the slightly strained relationship between their mothers, Hermione and Sasha were good friends. Playmates as young children, the girls had developed a special relationship that they both treasured, as neither had any sisters. They had, over the years, grown apart, but still exchanged letters and phone calls. Hermione always felt guilty for lying to Sasha about her occupation and schooling, but she knew it couldn’t be helped. Sasha’s letters had taken on a new tone entirely when she met Ian in college. Hermione could instantly tell the difference in her cousin. Sasha went from being shy and more than a little hard on herself to being confident and secure, and Hermione knew that Ian had brought those traits out in Sasha. Secretly, Hermione had been wildly jealous of their relationship. After hearing and reading about the wonderful changes in Sasha’s life, Hermione couldn’t help but wonder if she would ever find someone to evoke that sense of security and happiness in her. As the vicar began the readings, Hermione glanced over at the attractive man sitting beside her. How lucky I am, she thought, to have a friend like Ron who would do this for me. She knew that he was uncomfortable and nervous, and it only made his agreement to help her mean more. He looked over at her and smiled slightly, making Hermione’s heart swell in gratitude. Not many men would willingly walk into a totally unfamiliar situation full of strangers and chances to completely humiliate themselves. Ron truly was one in a million. Hermione dabbed the tears from her eyes as Sasha and Ian exchanged their vows. Would she ever have the chance to stand in front of her friends and family and declare her intent to love and cherish one man for the rest of her life? She knew that any wedding she had would end up being a disaster. There was no way her Muggle family and her wizarding friends could come together, even for one afternoon. Her own wedding would force her to choose between her family and the world that she’d given up so much to protect. Tears welled in her eyes again. Ron shifted in his seat beside her, and suddenly there was a warm weight across her shoulders. She glanced sideways and realised that Ron had put his arm around her. He looked at her with concern in his eyes. She felt an odd swooping in her stomach at the care her was showing. She patted his leg softly and settled back against his shoulder, feeling the rise and fall of his chest against her back. He reached across and took her hand. Hermione felt a jolt when his fingers closed on hers. Her skin tingled as he absentmindedly stoked her arm. She started to pull away, confused at the rush of emotions in her head. This was Ron, her dear friend, and here she was getting all jumpy just because he was touching her. She took a deep breath. No, she wasn’t getting jumpy because of Ron. She was jumpy because of the circumstances. Anyone else in her position would have been jumpy, too. She wasn’t getting worked up because of Ron. Was she? The music swelled loudly and Hermione looked up in time to see Sasha and Ian kiss. Hermione stood, pulling Ron up with her, as the happy couple sailed back up the aisle, followed by the various attendants. “What a beautiful ceremony,” Alice Granger said, turning to her daughter. Hermione nodded, eager to engage her mind in thoughts not involving the man beside her. “Where’s the reception?” she asked. “In the main ballroom,” her mother replied, as the crowds of people began making their way up the aisles and toward the hotel. “Lovely,” said Hermione, turning her attention back to Ron, who was engrossed in the mechanics of his folding chair. The look of incredulity on his face made her smile. “This is amazing,” he muttered, opening and closing the chair slowly. “Yes, it’s quite fascinating,” she replied. “But it’s time for the reception.” “What’s a reception?” he asked, opening the chair again and placing it back in its row. “It’s a party,” Hermione said, leading him back up the path. “For the newlyweds. With toasts and dancing and food…” “Food?” said Ron, eagerly. “Lead the way!” ***** Hermione lowered her now-empty wineglass and surveyed her surroundings. The reception in the ballroom at the hotel was proving to be just as spectacular as the ceremony in the garden. Her Auntie Rania was in her glory, beaming and sighing, flitting around the room with theatrical tears in her eyes. Hermione’s uncle had steadily been plying his wife with sherry, hoping to calm her; however, her inebriety seemed only to increase the volume in which she spoke of the fabulousness of the day. Having now finished her third glass of wine, Hermione knew that she should switch to water, but her nerves were so jangled that the wine was the only thing keeping her from hyperventilating. The ceremony had passed without incident, but the reception was scheduled to last three hours, and Hermione knew that at some point someone would ask about Ron. She shot him an encouraging smile, which he returned weakly. In all fairness, Ron had been performing admirably. Hermione knew that she was being ridiculous, and that everything was fine at the moment. But knowing that did little to calm her, or to shake the feeling of foreboding that danced in the back of her mind. A nattily dressed waiter placed a plate in front of her, and she relaxed a little. At least the meal would keep her various relations occupied for a while. Ron raised his eyebrows at her as the waiter lifted the silver warming lid, and Hermione tried not to laugh. The meal consisted of five stalks of asparagus, three carrots, a paper-thin piece of beef with some kind of chutney dabbed on the top, and a small, elegantly swirled serving of mashed potatoes. “Is this all?” Ron asked, incredulous. “Yes, I’m afraid it is,” replied Hermione. “For some reason, fancy food like this comes in really small portions.” “I’ll say,” said Ron, probing the carrots with his fork. “Look, we’ll get something on the way back to London,” Hermione whispered. “Just pretend to like it, okay?” Ron shot her a dubious look, but sighed and turned his attention to his plate. Hermione signaled for the waiter to refill her wineglass. Her mother looked reproachfully at her, but Hermione just smiled and forked a piece of carrot. ***** By the time the cake plates were cleared, Ron was feeling slightly better about the evening. He’d even managed to contribute to a conversation at one point, when the topic turned to travel. One of Hermione’s cousins was planning a trip to Egypt, and asked if anyone had ever been there. Ron visibly perked at this, and said that he had, as a teen. More questions on Egypt followed, and while Ron found it a little difficult to omit the parts about curse-breakers and ancient wizards, he felt afterward that he’d held his own in the conversation, and managed not to embarrass himself or Hermione. The dance band in the corner of the room switched to playing faster pieces, and people started milling toward the parquet dance floor. Hermione’s cousin stepped out with her new husband, and Ron watched them for a moment. Both Sasha and Ian looked so happy, swirling madly around the dance floor. Ron found himself wondering if he would ever find a woman that would look at him the way Sasha was looking at Ian, the way his mother still looked at his father when she thought no one was watching. Suddenly, he felt rather lonely. Hermione shifted in her chair, and Ron’s trepidation tiptoed back across his brain. Did she expect him to dance with her? He hadn’t had an occasion to dance since his Hogwarts days, and he didn’t even know if Muggle dancing and wizard dancing were the same thing. He turned back to the dance floor, hoping that he could learn Muggle dancing by watching, and in under a minute. Before he could make up his mind (or learn the waltz) Hermione’s aunt sank heavily into a chair across the table. Ron could tell from the flush of her cheeks that she was more than a little tipsy. “What a day!” she exclaimed, swaying slightly in her chair. “Have you ever seen such a beautiful bride?” “No, Auntie Rania,” Hermione replied, smiling. “Sasha does look lovely.” “Of course she does!” Rania replied, a little too loudly. “She’s a lovely girl, takes after me. Good thing, too,” she said, leaning toward them conspiratorially. “Albert’s mother looks like a transvestite in that dress.” Hermione and her mother exchanged glances, but Ron had no idea what Rania was on about, and decided that the best course of action in the situation was to take a drink from his glass. Muggle wine was horrible, but for the moment, it was the only thing within his reach. Rania sat back up, swaying again. “And our Hermione,” she said, waving a hand in Hermione’s direction. “We’re so glad you could make it today. And you even brought a date! Lovely!” She turned to Ron. “She’s usually got her nose stuck in a book or something,” she said, attempting to playfully pat Ron on the arm, but missing, nearly knocking over Ron’s glass in the process. “We were beginning to think that she’d never find a man.” Ron raised his eyebrows, glancing in Hermione’s direction. She had a fake smile plastered across her face, but he could tell that she was upset by her aunt’s behavior. “But here you are,” continued Rania, oblivious to the glares of the rest of the table. “And you’re not a bad-looking fellow, are you? And they tell me you’re a lawyer, which is just lovely!” She paused, drinking deeply from her glass. As she set it back on the table, Ron noticed Hermione’s mother surreptitiously sliding the glass out of her sister’s reach. “I always felt so bad for dear Alice,” Rania continued. “I mean, she was a really lovely girl, and then there was Hermione. Unfortunate, that. But she’s filled out quite nicely in the past few years, don’t you think?” She looked up a Ron blearily. “Well, of course you do,” she said, before he could reply. “You are seeing her, after all.” “Rania, dear,” said Alice, with a painfully patient voice. “Aren’t there some relatives of Ian’s you need to speak with?” “Oh, no,” replied Hermione’s aunt. She turned to Ron again. “I’ll admit that I thought dear Hermione might not fancy men, if you catch my meaning, even after Alice told me that she’d be bringing a date.” “Rania!” exclaimed Alice, looking horrified. “What a horrible thing to say!” She put an arm around Hermione, who looked as though she might cry. Ron found his dislike of Hermione’s aunt growing by the minute. “Oh, please, Alice,” continued Rania. “What were we supposed to think? You never spoke of boyfriends, and we barely saw her as it was. And she was such an odd girl, always reading and things. Normal girls aren’t like that.” Hermione gave a small gasp, and Ron had to sit on his hands to keep himself from breaking the stem of his glass. He couldn’t remember ever meeting a person he disliked so much. Her disdain for the feelings of others reminded him forcibly of Draco Malfoy. “You are embarrassing yourself,” Alice hissed at her sister. “And Sasha, for that matter.” “Oh, pish tosh,” said Rania, reaching again for her glass. When she couldn’t immediately find it, she reached for Ron’s instead. “Everyone in the family knows that your daughter,” she said loudly, swinging her glass in the direction of Hermione’s frozen and ashen-faced form, “is some kind of freak. She didn’t even go to a proper school, for God’s sake. She’s the embarrassment, not me.” As Alice turned angrily to her sister, Ron noticed Hermione rise to her feet and walk quickly away from the table. Her father threw his napkin to the table in disgust and went after her. “You daft old cow!” Ron said, finally turning to Rania, who looked quite puzzled at his outburst. “I’ll have you know that Hermione is one of the most amazing women I’ve ever known, as well as the brightest person I’ve ever met. She’s sincere, compassionate, and brilliant, three things that I cannot say about you. You would be lucky to have a daughter that was even half the woman Hermione is, and I can say with all honesty that I pity any child that had to grow up with a mother like you.” “How dare you speak to me that way!” Rania said indignantly. “I’ll have you know that our family is one of the most prominent in all of Britain, and I could hardly expect someone conditioned in American to understand…” “I might not be in your social registry,” Ron interrupted. “And I know that I don’t have the money that you do. But if money and prestige would turn me into you, you can keep it. I’d rather live in a gutter than behave like you do.” He turned to Hermione’s mother. “Mrs. Granger, I apologize for that outburst. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He turned and walked from the room.
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