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Author: Majick Story: I Now Pronounce You... Rating: Young Teens Setting: Pre-OotP Status: Completed Reviews: 85 Words: 8,372
It was silly, of course. It hadn't been that long since Ron and I got together - well, seven years and four months, but really, who's counting? - and it wasn't even as if we were particularly old. I may be the oldest of the group, but I'm only twenty-four, after all. Any witch is capable of producing children into her fifties or sixties, and one need only look at Professor McGonagall to see how active someone can be at an age that, for a Muggle, would be a signal to check their will and have a nice plot picked out for the burial. But more and more often, my mind was drifting to dreams of myself and Ron settled down, married, with children, with a swollen abdomen and a new life growing inside me, a life created by Ron and myself. It was terrible, really. Ron kept having to go back and forth over things he'd already said when we were talking, and I was getting very used to having him wave a hand in front of my face to bring me back to him. But I wanted it, and as more and more of my friends married and started to have children, I wanted it more. All it needed was Ron to co-operate, and a priest to end by saying 'I now pronounce you…' How hard can it be? Our generation will forever be tainted by the war. So many people we know died. We lost Dumbledore, we lost Sirius, even Snape's loss was mourned. We were forced to grow up far too fast, and we were adults in spirit long before we reached physical maturity. Dumbledore liked to say that you fight darkness with light, sorrow with joy, anger with peace, and hatred with love. There's still so much hatred in the world. Neo Death Eater groups spring up almost monthly, using Voldemort as their martyr. The Aurors close on them with practised ease and soon they are no more, but the thought that someone can still think that way... it sends a shiver down my spine. And what greater antidote than to shout from the rooftops how much I love this man? What better way to change the world than to bring the next generation into it? To create new life, to share our love with out children... But I'm getting away from the story, aren't I? Hermione, Meet me at the flat after work. Love, Ron That was all that the note said, and so I made my way to Ron and Harry's flat at five o'clock sharp. I know that everyone says that I'm always late, but I try and be on time for the important things, and I had a feeling that whatever Ron wanted was important. Things had been tense between us for a week or so, ever since I bit his head off about Ginny. I wanted to apologise; He couldn't have known that Ginny was feeling as bad as she did, and I shouldn't have snapped at him the way I did. I was glad that I'd dressed smartly that day. Ron had always liked my legs, and the short-ish skirt and white blouse always held his interest, not that he usually required much in the way of encouragement or 'fancy wrapping' as Angelina calls it. In fact, Ron's always been much more interested in what's und- Anyway. I waited for a long time. At first I amused myself by tidying Ron's kitchen - Harry never cooks, although I know he can. He's happy to let Ron do it all - so that it was all much more logical. I know that Ron has a weird kind of logic, and that it would be all a mess again within days, but it's part of our ongoing battle. I know that he'll be an absolute nightmare to live with. I can't wait. But on that night, I had to. By the time I gave up, it was nearly midnight, and my nerves were shredded. I didn't know why he'd keep me waiting like this. Normally, if he's going to be late, he'll at least call me on the Floo. That evening, however, there was nothing. I knew from my Quidditch season planner that Harry was away with Puddlemere - again - that night, and Ginny had mentioned meeting up with friends, so I assumed that I wouldn't see either of them that evening. I let myself out of the boys' flat and went out into Diagon Alley. It was starting to rain, and I ran - or at least walked as fast as the heels on my shoes would allow me - to the Leaky Cauldron. I didn't want to Apparate and the boys, of course, had let their Floo Powder run out. Typical. I made a note to bring some the next time that I was at theirs. The thought made me pull up in the middle of the street. Would I be going back to their flat? I told myself not to be silly, that Ron was just delayed, that something had happened at work... But he's a Quidditch player, not an Auror, or anything... Well, it's not that he's not important, but he doesn't have a job where he has to deal with emergencies, and I'm so glad of that. The three of us came out of Hogwarts so exhausted by everything that happened that we needed to break from all that stress. Harry and Ron went straight into Quidditch, and I started helping Mr. Weasley in the Ministry, more for something to do then any great career goal but now, oh, I feel needed, I make a difference, and last month I was there when Minister Doge and Prime Minister Blair signed my treaty on closer co-operation and... Ron can't understand, he doesn't want to, but he knows that I'm happy, and that's enough for him. One day, maybe, he'll do something else, something that... Oh dear, I'm terrible at this. I keep on being ambitious for Ron. I'd love for him to have the same recognition that I receive, because he certainly deserves it, but he wants to play Quidditch, and he certainly gets enough recognition there. He wouldn't have it any other way, and he's happy. I don't understand it, never have been able to understand why he won't push himself as hard as he can, but he's happy. I'm happy too, because of that. That evening, though, for a little while, I wasn't happy. I'd been stood up by my boyfriend, and things weren't going well. I stumbled out of the fireplace in the Queen's Head, and then out into the pouring rain. I was soaked immediately, my expensive raincoat about as much use as a paper dragon-prod. I was halfway home when I collided with what felt like a brick wall. I bounced backwards, lost my footing, and landed heavily in the mud. Soaked, filthy, and feeling downright miserable, I just wanted to sit there and cry. The brick wall reached out a hand and I let it pull me upright. To my surprise, I found myself face to face with Ron, the expression on his face as amazed as the one on mine, I'm sure. "Ron," I gasped. "What are you... I mean, I got your... I waited for you..." "I waited for you," he said, after opening and closing his mouth several times like a fish. "Where?" we both asked. "At your flat," we both replied. We stood in the middle of the street, drenched to the bone, staring helplessly at one another. Ron looked thoroughly bedraggled, his fringe plastered to his forehead, his soaking wet shirt clinging to his toned body. I wondered irrelevantly where his coat was, but mostly just stared at him. For once, no words seemed to come to mind. I looked up into his startlingly blue eyes, and waited for him to say it, whatever it was he wanted to say. He just stood there, staring at me as though it were I who had asked to see him. I opened my mouth to speak, and then decided that I couldn't do it. I couldn't have a discussion with him that would probably lead to us breaking up. Not here, not now. Somehow, I wasn't in the mood. "I have to go," I gasped, trying to push past him, but he took my hand and held on to me. I couldn't budge him, and couldn't break his grip. Ron is incredibly strong, and much taller and heavier than I am. I didn't stand a chance. "Hold on a minute," he said, his voice barely audible in the lashing rain. I tried to pull myself free, knowing that the people passing by were giving us very funny looks. I just hate making a scene, but I was about ten seconds away from kicking Ron as hard as I could in the shins and dashing back to my flat. "I said hold on," he repeated. I calmed down a bit, not trying to pull free, but still tensed to run if I got the chance. He reached up a hand to my face, and brushed the wet hair away. I tried to turn away, because I must have looked dreadful just then, but he smiled and held my head still. "I can never get over just how beautiful you are," he said. "Stay here a moment?" I nodded, shivering, but ready to do whatever he asked. I had to trust him, didn't I? "I don't want to lose you," he said. "I was so scared just now, I thought that you'd stood me up, that you were somewhere getting ready to break up with me." I opened my mouth to reply, desperate to tell him that he was wrong, that I couldn't break up with him, that I loved him, that I'd been scared that he was breaking up with me. But he placed his thumb on my lips, silencing me before I could say anything. And then, oh and then… Ron Weasley, the man who dreads making a scene when it comes to emotional things, who makes big, extravagant, sweeping and always private gestures to show me how much he loves me… In the pouring rain, with people bustling all around us, he dropped to one knee, took my hand, and produced a ring, as if by magic, which he slipped onto my finger. * Later I asked him why he didn't ask me. "God, can you imagine the fuss you'd make?" he said. "You'd be umming and ahhing, fussing and trying to work out how to Floo fifteen million people at once. Better not to ask, right? I mean, I knew what the answer would be as soon as I saw you tonight." "You did?" "Yeah. You knew you were seeing me tonight, you knew it was freezing outside, and you still wore that mini-skirt. You couldn't not love me." "Ron! It's not a mini-skirt! It only comes to just above my knees." "It's half the length of your other skirts. It's a mini-skirt." "Oh, you're impossible!" "Yeah, guess so. Want to change your mind?" For a split second, I almost fell for it, but I knew Ron too well by now, so I decided to have a little fun. "Well, I probably should, if you're going to send me ambiguous notes that leave me freezing cold and soaking wet, and if you're going to make a huge public scene every time you do something affectionate, and if you're going to-" He shut me up, taking every bit as much delight in doing so as the first time he did it, all those years ago. What can I say? I have no defences against tall, red-haired fiancés of mine who kiss me out of the blue. * And now here we are. Ginny grins at me, and I roll my eyes. I suppose it wouldn't be a wedding if something didn't go wrong, and I suppose as well that having my train attached to my dress upside down is hardly a catastrophe. My mum and Molly will have it fixed in a trice. Angelina, Penny and Alicia, our bridesmaids, are lounging about, at least as much as their dresses will allow, and enjoying the show. It's only a few weeks since Penny's wedding, but she's already forgotten how nervous she was. I suppose that it's Charlie or Bill's turn after this, if either of them ever settles down. Until that happy day, this is the last time that Molly gets to fuss like this for the foreseeable future, so I let her get on with it while I focus on calming thoughts. My mum will only get to do this once, and Molly is gracious enough to share, at least when it comes to my dress, but Ginny has to put up with Molly at full force, and it's very hard not to laugh as mother and daughter bicker for the umpteenth time about whether or not Ginny is going to wear gloves. And then, finally, it all goes quiet. Molly and Mum are holding onto each other as Ginny and I stand side by side, and I can tell Mum's trying not to cry. Molly, who's been through this with the twins and Percy, isn't even trying, just weeping tears of happiness, and I can't say that I feel any different. Apparition is impossible in our gowns, and so my dad has arranged for a horse-drawn carriage to take us to the church. No-one had any particular place where they wanted the service to be held until Remus suggested the church where Lily and James Potter were married, and where Harry was christened. It just felt right. His parents and Sirius will be watching him today, I know. Dad and Arthur ride up front, ready to take their daughters into the church. Ginny and I sit side by side, the bridesmaids opposite. It's all so much, all too soon, not soon enough, and then we're there, and the doors swing back, and I follow Ginny down the aisle, and all I can see is this gorgeous, flame-haired man standing and waiting for me. I'm ready. He's ready. We take our places, and the service begins.
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