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Author: Bella Story: A Real Superiority of Mind Rating: Teens Setting: Pre-DH Status: Completed Reviews: 17 Words: 34,428
A/N: A final, huge shout out to my beta, Daily Prophet Reporting, for all his hard work on this story. You rock, KC! "Yes, vanity is a weakness indeed. But pride – where there is a real superiority of mind, pride will be always under good regulation." Ginny's heart was drumming in her ears when she Apparated to the deserted square in London that housed Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. She stared up at the imposing home for a few seconds as it squeezed its way into view before she forced herself up the front steps. She had to do this – she had to, before she lost her nerve. Her hands were shaking and she felt nauseous as she rang the bell. She waited a moment, but there was no reply. So she rang the bell again. And then one more time for good measure. Suddenly the door flew open and Harry, clad only in a dressing gown, his hair damp, was standing in front of her. "Ginny!" he exclaimed, looking as shocked to see her on his doorstep as she was to be there. "Come in," he said after a moment of stunned silence, beckoning her inside. She entered awkwardly, avoiding his searching gaze, and when she got inside her attention was distracted from him. It was finished – the house was finished. The dark wood of the floor was shining brightly, the oil paintings glowed, and the light from the polished chandelier reflected off the dark yellow walls beautifully, perfectly complementing the lush red carpeting on the stairs. "Oh, it's beautiful," she breathed. "Yeah, thanks," Harry said awkwardly. "It wasn't me – you picked out this color, remember? And the carpet." Ginny nodded. "It's quite different seeing it in person, though," she said. There was a silence. Harry coughed. "So, erm, did you come by for a tour? Because if that's what you want, I'd be glad to-" "No, thank you," Ginny said quickly. "I mean, I would love a tour, but that's not exactly why I'm here." "Not exactly?" "Not at all, actually." Ginny's heart was thundering in her ears. She took a deep breath and looked at him. "I'm sorry," she said finally. He paused and swallowed, understanding the full meaning of her words. "So am I." "Yes, but I'm really sorry. Sorry for getting angry at you all the time, sorry for not dropping my grudge against you." Harry shook his head. "Ginny, you had every right to have a grudge against me. I behaved abominably, and believe me, if I could go back and change my decision, I would." His eyes were earnest in the candlelight. Ginny stared at him. "You would? Really?" He nodded emphatically. "It took me four years to realize it, but if I could, I would never have left. I would have finished school and gone on to work – to become an Auror with Ron or something. But most of all, Ginny – most of all, I would never have left you." Ginny swallowed, feeling tears prick at her eyes. "I wish you hadn't, Harry, but in a way, I'm glad you did. It's let me grow up…. It's let me realize that there isn't anyone else for me but you." He looked like he couldn't believe his ears. "Do you mean that?" She blinked away her tears and nodded. "Yes, Harry, I really do." They stared at each other, inches separating their chests, not daring to breathe. She didn't know who moved first (it was probably her) but he was suddenly kissing her, his fingers wrapped in her hair and sliding underneath her jacket to pull it off, and she was pulling him as close to her as humanly possible. It was like coming home. They had done this before and her lips hadn't forgotten his. His mouth, as he opened up to her probing tongue, was well-charted and well-remembered territory. Liquid fire ran through her veins. His hands were splayed on her back, holding her to him, and she could feel them through her tee-shirt as if they were burning into her. Groans were echoing between them – she didn't know if she was making the noise or if he was or if they both were – as she pushed one hand into his damp hair. He moved his hands as well; one went up to keep her head against his, and the other went down low until he found the end of her tee-shirt. His hand slipped beneath it and she sucked in her breath sharply when his fingers made contact with the smooth, bare flesh of her back. Her knees were wobbling; he moved her hips so they were flush against his and she gasped. She grabbed the front of the dressing gown and tugged. "Bedroom," she managed to gasp, but they never made it to the bedroom. Ginny did end up getting a tour of the house that night, but it was not one that she thought she would remember very well. She felt she would most likely have to repeat it. Again and again. ~*~*~*~* "Hermo-ninny!" Despite her mood, Hermione smiled at the large Bulgarian who was waving her over to his table. "I'm with him," she said to the hostess, who smiled conspiratorially. "You're a lucky girl, then, to be with Viktor Krum." Hermione paused and laughed in surprise. "Oh, no – I'm not with him, I'm just – we're just having lunch." The hostess winked at her. "Of course, dear." Hermione, feeling flustered, wove through the tables and smiled at Viktor. She settled herself into her seat. "This is a nice place, isn't it?" Viktor nodded. "Yes, very nice," he said. "Thank you for agreeing to haff lunch vith me." "Anytime, Viktor," Hermione said. She flipped open her menu and perused it. She had vowed that, during this luncheon, she wasn't once going to think of It (the wedding), Ron (who continued to be frustratingly unaware of the stress she was under), Ginny (whom she feared, like herself, was sliding into depression), work, or really anything that didn't have to do with Viktor. Already feeling slightly liberated, she smiled and ordered something that her mother would be horrified to know she was eating five days before she had to fit into her wedding gown. After they ordered, Hermione and Viktor talked about menial things, Viktor all the while acting a bit strangely. Hermione finally said something about it. "Is everything all right, Viktor?" Viktor looked at her from beneath his heavy brows. He sighed. "Hermo-ninny, I haff something to ask you," he said. He put his hands on the table and laced his fingers together. "I apologize for my English ahead of the time." Hermione waved it away, feeling concerned. "I don't mind, Viktor, you know that. What's the trouble?" "It is not a trouble, exactly," Viktor said. He looked at her and his expression was so unsure that she caught a sudden glimpse of his eighteen-year-old self. He exhaled and then said, "Hermo-ninny, vhen did you know that Veasley vas – vas… the one… for you?" Hermione sat back, surprised by his question. She frowned and was about to answer when their waiter arrived with their food. They received it and began eating, Hermione thoughtful, Viktor anxious. "Well," she said after pondering for a few moments, "I don't know exactly when I realized it. I suppose – I think I sort of always knew, but didn't really know most likely until my sixth year or so, when he went out with Lavender Brown. It made me horrifically jealous, which in turn led me to face the fact that I was mad about him and had been probably since the beginning." She smiled slightly, remembering the awful incident with the canaries and the disastrous evening with Cormac McLaggen, and then focused on Viktor, who was looking pensive. "Why do you ask?" "I haff – I think I vant… I think I vill ask Anastasia to marry me," he said finally, his dark complexion coloring. Hermione smiled delightedly. "Viktor, how wonderful! I am so happy for you!" She reached across the table and squeezed his hand. "She's a lucky girl," she said sincerely. Viktor's anxiety seemed to melt away. "You really think it is a good idea?" "Of course I do. You love each other very much." He smiled happily and put his hand on top of Hermione's. "Thank you, Hermo-ninny. You are right. I knew I vould-" "GET YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF MY FIANCEE!" an all-too-familiar voice roared from behind Hermione. And then, quite suddenly, Viktor was blasted out of his chair and slammed into the wall behind them. Hermione's wand was drawn and she was up out of her chair in seconds. She found herself face-to-face with Ron, who looked perhaps angrier than she had ever seen him, which was definitely saying something. "What the hell are you doing, Ron?" Hermione cried, hurrying around the table to see if Viktor was all right. He was conscious but moaning; he had obviously hit his head against the wall. She whirled around to face Ron, who was looking at her with a mix of anger and defiance. "RON! What is your problem?" she yelled, aware that they were making a scene. The old, sane Hermione would have cared, but the new, mad Hermione wanted to rip Ron limb from limb, regardless of their audience. Ron looked apoplectic with rage. "You know my problem, you're with – you're with HIM! Bloody Viktor Krum!" he yelled, gesturing wildly to Viktor's prone form. "Out to lunch with Viktor Krum! We're getting married in five days!" Hermione was so angry she was shaking. She stood up slowly, her eyes never leaving his as she walked towards him, her heart pounding erratically in her chest. The entire restaurant was waiting with bated breath. "You're right, Ron," she said, her voice dangerously low. He had thrown her over the edge. She was cracking. "You're right, I was having lunch with Viktor Krum. My friend, Viktor Krum." "Friend, my arse!" Ron yelled. "He had his hands all over you! Trying to steal my fianceé!" Hermione slapped him across the face. "What the hell was that for?" Ron asked, clutching his bruised cheek. "For being a complete and utter IDIOT!" Hermione yelled, her control broken. "I'M HAVING LUNCH WITH MY FRIEND, VIKTOR. THAT'S IT, THAT'S ALL, AND OF COURSE, YOU HAVE TO HAUL OFF AND ATTACK HIM BEFORE YOU EVEN STOP TO GATHER THE DETAILS!" Ron swelled with rage. "IF IT'S ALL SO INNOCENT, WHY DID YOU KEEP IT A SECRET THEN? I GO IN TO SURPRISE YOU FOR LUNCH TODAY AND YOUR BLOODY ASSISANT TOLD ME YOU WERE AT LUNCH WITH KRUM!" Hermione balled her hands up into fists. "YOU ARE THE MOST IRRATIONAL MAN ON THE EARTH!" she screamed. "AND IF I'M ALWAYS GOING TO BE SCARED OF MAKING YOU ANGRY, WELL-" "WELL WHAT?" "WELL, MAYBE I DON'T WANT TO MARRY YOU!" There was a stunned silence in which Ron and Hermione could do nothing but stare at each other, breathing heavily. He looked uncertain, hurt. Hermione swallowed, her pride unwilling to let her back down, and when he saw this, his expression hardened. "Fine," Ron said finally, coldly. "Maybe I don't want to marry you either." Oh, my God. "Fine." He turned and left the restaurant. Her heart broke as she watched his retreating back. ~*~*~*~* Ginny was in an unfamiliar bed when she woke up the next morning. This bed, for starters, was much more comfortable than hers at home. And about two feet bigger on each side. And, most importantly, her bed at home didn't come with Harry in it, like this one did. Ginny grinned. She could definitely get used to this. In fact, she thought as she gently twisted her body in his arms to face him as he slept, she was already used to this. Her eyes roamed over his features possessively, starting from his coal-black hair (even messier than usual from sleep and the various nocturnal activities) and moving down to the thin scar that was as much a part of him as his limbs and the dark brows and eyelids that hid the green eyes that she was sure would be sparkling at her if he were awake. This was where she was supposed to be – in this strange old house with a dark past in the arms of a strange young man with an equally dark past. Making both of them happy and whole and hers. "You're pleased this morning, Miss Weasley." She grinned into his gorgeous green eyes. "Whatever gave you that impression, Mr. Potter?" He leaned forward and kissed her soundly. Ah yes. That feature of his face that was arguably the most important. She sighed and kept her eyes closed after he broke the kiss and allowed herself to be pulled into his chest. "I love you," she said. His arms tightened around her. "I don't think I'll ever get used to you saying that to me," he said, his voice suspiciously thick. "Well, you should," she said matter-of-factly, her fingers tracing a pattern on his chest, "because it's true. No escaping it. You're stuck with me." "Merlin help me." She pinched him in the ribs and he cried out in surprise. A short but vicious pinching match ensued and ended with Ginny begging for mercy as Harry tickled her within the circle of his arms. "Harry? Harry, are you at home?" Ginny and Harry froze. Oh, good Lord. They looked at each other, breathing heavily, with horror-filled eyes. Molly Weasley was in the house. "Harry dear, are you here?" she called, seemingly from right beside the bed – Ginny's side, the left side. Ginny had never been more terrified in her life. When they couldn't hear any footsteps, Harry figured it out first. "She's in the fireplace," he whispered. He motioned for her to stay put and he slid out of bed on the right side, putting his glasses on as he did, and grabbed a dressing gown from the chair beside the bed. He wrapped it around himself and made sure it was securely tied before he walked around the bed and towards the fireplace. Ginny was mercifully hidden from her mother's limited fire-place view due to the placement of the half-drawn hangings. "Molly? What's the trouble?" Harry asked, staring down at her head in the fire. "Oh, Harry, dear, I woke you up, didn't I?" Molly said, sounding dismayed. Harry glanced at the bed, where Ginny had stuffed the comforter in her mouth to keep her hysterical laughter at bay, and snorted before composing himself admirably. "No, it's fine, Molly. It's – it's almost two, I needed to get up anyway." Ginny's eyes almost bugged out of her head. Almost two? Well…they had been awake for most of the night… "Harry, the most awful thing's happened," Molly said, sounding panicked. "It's Hermione and Ron. They've had a huge row." Harry's mirth vanished. "A row? What happened?" Molly sounded tearful. "I don't know, no one knows; they made a ridiculous scene at that restaurant below Ginny's flat and they ended up saying – oh! It's too horrible – that the wedding's off!" Molly dissolved into sobs. Ginny sat up slowly in the bed, her eyes wide. The wedding's off? Harry glanced at her before his focus returned to the fire. "Molly, calm down. Don't worry. We'll sort it out." "Do you know where Ginny is, Harry? I've looked all over for her-" "Erm, I think I know where to find her," Harry said, his face and voice perfectly straight. "Oh, Harry, I knew you would be able to help!" "Yes, well, I'll try." "Please do, for all our sakes!" She disappeared with a whoosh and a sniffle and Harry turned back to the bed. He and Ginny exchanged wide-eyed looks. "I bet he found out about Krum," Ginny whispered, horrified. "What d'you mean?" Ginny had her hands over her mouth. "Krum – Viktor Krum came to see her on Friday and asked her to lunch today. Oh, bloody hell!" "Oh, bloody hell is right," Harry said, sinking down onto the bed. "What should we do?" Ginny shook her head. "Talk to them, I suppose. Oh, Harry, it's this wedding. It's driven Hermione mad with stress. And I don't think Ron properly realizes how hard it's been on her." "I can't even imagine," Harry said grimly. Ginny stared at him, suddenly recalling something from the night before. What had Tonks said? "I would've eloped by now if it were me." The wheels in Ginny's head were turning. "I have an idea," she said. ~*~*~*~* Hermione's face was red and blotchy, her hair was sticking up, and her body was trembling with sobs. Basically, she looked like hell. But she didn't care. Only one thought was permeating her brain: The wedding's off. The wedding's off. I'm not getting married. I'm not marrying Ron. People had been banging on her bathroom door practically ever since she had arrived back at her flat. Her mother had been there at one point, speaking to Hermione through the crack in the door, begging her to open it up so they could talk about what had happened. Mrs. Weasley had been there too, repressing her sobs with difficulty and trying to tell Hermione that misunderstandings happen all the time and they could fix whatever had gone wrong. She could hear other voices outside the door but didn't bother to try and place them. It was probably all of her former future sisters-in-law, and maybe Harry, her dad, and Arthur. She didn't care. She had played the scene over and over in her head, wondering what would have happened if she had done this or said that. If she hadn't slapped him. If she hadn't lost her tenuous grip on her sanity. She knew her mother and Molly were thinking about the wedding. What were they going to do? How were they going to tell the guests about the row that had ended all rows? Oh God – she was never going to row with Ron again – "Hermione?" It was Ginny. Hermione blew her nose in reply. "Hermione, come on," Ginny said impatiently. "Open the bloody door. You've used something obscure, no one can get it open, so will you just open up so I can talk to you? I promise we can seal it shut after I'm in." Hermione didn't move. She continued to sit on the cold tile, her head resting on the side of the bath, tissues spread all around her. The mirror on the back of the door was right in front of her. She could do nothing but stare at herself and wonder what had gone wrong – how it had reached this point. Ginny rapped impatiently on the door. "Hermione, for the love of Merlin, let me in. I have something important to tell you." Somewhere along the line of the past three months, Hermione had lost sight of the true goal of the wedding – marrying Ron. She didn't think her mother had ever realized that that was what she should be planning for – not a huge event with all of Cabell society, but instead the day when her daughter would be gaining a new family. Tying herself forever to one man. "I slept with Harry." Hermione's head jerked up from the side of the bath and she stared at the crack beneath the door. Ginny's voice sounded like she had pushed her lips into the crack to avoid being heard by the other occupants of the flat. "Did you hear me? I said I-" "Finite Incantatem!" The door swung open and Ginny pitched forward into the small bathroom. Hermione slammed the door shut behind her and locked it. "A bit of warning would have been nice," Ginny grumbled as she sat down next to Hermione. Her face softened and she swallowed, eyes running over Hermione's face. Hermione felt another rush of tears. "Oh God, what have I done?" she wailed, burying her face in her hands. Ginny enfolded her into her arms and Hermione cried until she could hardly hold her eyes open, they were so swollen. "I was so stupid not to tell him!" she gasped. "I should have but I just – I was angry at him for being so uninvolved in the wedding plans! And I knew he would get angry and it drives me mad that he gets so angry and then he showed up in the restaurant and attacked Viktor and I lost it, Ginny; I lost my mind and told him I didn't want to marry him anymore but," she stopped to take a breath, "I do!" she wailed. "I do want to marry him, I love him!" Ginny made vaguely soothing noises as Hermione fell to weeping again against her chest. "Hermione," she said gently after her friend had calmed down somewhat, "I'm sorry." She looked at her squarely. Hermione looked confused. "For wh-what?" she hiccoughed. Ginny framed Hermione's face with her hands. "For not being there," she said. "For not being your friend when you needed me the most. For being so involved with my own problems that I forgot to stop and look at yours. Can you ever forgive me?" Hermione started crying again and leaned into her shoulder in what she hoped came across as a hug. "Ginny, you didn't do anything wrong." "Stop it, Hermione, I did," Ginny said, self-loathing evident in her tone. "We both know I wasn't here for you. But you know what? I'm going to make it up to you." Hermione felt a thrill of anticipation at Ginny's words. She knew that tone very well – that was Ginny's stubborn-as-a-mule tone. It was usually accompanied with a glint in her eyes that was frightening in its intensity. "You don't have to," she said without much conviction. "I do." Ginny got up. "Unlock the door." After a short moment of hesitation Hermione did as she was told. She listened in as Ginny left the bathroom and strode down the hall and into the sitting room area. "Right, everyone has to go," she said. "What? Ginny, dear-" "Mum, don't ask questions, don't try and see her, just go. She appreciates your support, but you all need to leave now." "What's going on? What are you going to do?" Hermione's mother asked. "I'm going to fix things. We're going on a short holiday but we'll be back tomorrow." "What?" "A holiday?" "Now?" "But the wedding's in five days!" "We have billions of things to do!" "Mum, Jane, with all due respect, there isn't going to be a wedding if you don't get out of here." "Ginevra Molly Weasley, I cannot believe you're being so disrespectful-" "Mum, please, just trust me and go." "Well, I never," Jane huffed. "I'm certainly not leaving my daughter." Hermione felt a spark of anger. She pulled herself off the floor, muscles stiff, and walked down the hall. Everyone fell silent at her sudden (and undoubtedly scary) appearance. "Mum, Molly, please leave," she said. "I've had enough of the wedding. Can't you see that there are bigger things at stake here than that?" she asked pleadingly. "My relationship with Ron could be over. I don't give a flying fig about the wedding right now." Molly sniffed wetly, looking depressed. Jane was stricken. "Of course, you're right, Hermione," she said quietly. "Come on, Molly." The two women got up and left the apartment. The door clicked behind them and Hermione let out a puff of air, her body feeling shaky. She sat down on the deserted couch. Ginny sat down next to her. "Are you willing to talk to Ron?" Hermione swallowed. "Is he willing to talk to me?" "Yes." Hermione nodded. "Yeah, I am. I don't know what I'll say, though." "Just tell him the truth – that you love him. Tell him how you felt he was ignoring you. Explain why you didn't want to tell him about your lunch with Viktor." Hermione nodded. "You're right. I just – I don't know if I can. I said horrible things to him – I hit him, for heaven's sake." She shuddered. How stupid she was. It was going to be horrible to talk to him. Dread filled her stomach. Ginny smiled gently at her. "Don't let your pride get in the way of your feelings," she said, quoting Hermione's words back at her. "It's what you said after Harry kissed me the first time." That made Hermione remember what Ginny had said earlier. She looked up at her friend with raised eyebrows. "And you obviously followed my advice." Ginny blushed a lovely shade of maroon. "I did indeed. In fact," she said, her eyes alight with mischief, "Mum woke us up about forty-five minutes ago. She's so concerned about you and Ron that she hasn't even realized I'm wearing the same clothes I was last night." Hermione gaped at her. "What d'you mean, she woke you up?" "Her head was in the fireplace," Ginny explained. "Scared me half to death." "Honestly, Ginny. You're lucky she didn't Floo all the way," Hermione said, a hint of her old disapproval in her tone. She paused then and looked at Ginny, feeling a smile come to her lips despite everything else. "So… everything's good, then?" Ginny flung her head back against the couch dramatically. "Good is the understatement of the century, Hermione. He was bloody fantastic." "Okay, bad mental images," Hermione said, wrinkling her nose and shuddering slightly. "Right, come on, we've got work to do." Ginny said. "What d'you mean?" Hermione asked, her brow furrowed, as Ginny jumped up. "We have to pack, of course," she said, heading down the hall to Hermione's bedroom. "For our holiday." Hermione stood up. "We're really going on holiday?" "Yes, we are. Have you got any sundresses?" ~*~*~*~* Ginny watched anxiously as Ron and Harry entered the hotel room. Hermione was strung as tight as a bow on the bed next to her and, when Ginny glanced at her, was staring determinedly at the floor. Ron, for his part, kept darting nervous glances at Hermione and alternating his expression between petrified and defiant. "Right," Ginny said after Harry had closed the door to the room, "you should both know why we're all here. Harry and I decided that you two have had enough stress with the wedding and – er – certain recent events, and in order to sort everything out, you should be away from everything for a bit." The room was quiet. Harry nodded at her encouragingly and Ginny continued. "Harry and I are going to leave you two so you can talk. You've both been idiots, both made stupid decisions, and now's the time to set everything right. We'll be back in a little while." She crossed the room, past her brother, who didn't meet her gaze, and went to Harry. He opened the door and she passed through. Before he left the room he said, "You two are my best mates. It would kill me to see your relationship ruined by this bump in the road." He flushed when Ginny looked at him approvingly once they had closed Hermione and Ron inside. "What?" "Nothing," she said, grinning. "You're just – adorable. Did you know?" "Hmm…I think you might have mentioned it once or twice," he said, his eyes sparkling as he leaned down to kiss her. He took her hand and together they walked towards the lifts. "Have you talked to the officiant?" "Yes, I contacted him before we left. He's going to meet us on the beach at six. He was absolutely thrilled to add yet another Weasley wedding to his collection." "And then I made reservations at the hotel restaurant and booked our separate hotel room." Ginny leaned against the wall after Harry had pressed the button. "D'you know what? I think this is the best wedding gift anyone could give." He grinned at her. "Yeah – we're giving them their wedding." ~*~*~*~* The silence in the room was deafening after the door clicked shut behind Harry. Hermione had so many things to say but she didn't know how – she didn't know where to begin. She didn't know if she should be apologetic and beg for Ron's forgiveness, if she should cry until she wore him down, if she should unleash her anger at him for ignoring her, or if she should remain silent, like he seemed to want to do, until Harry and Ginny came back in "a little while", whenever that was. Hermione didn't even know where they were. It was somewhere hot, no doubt about that, and she was in a fetching sundress she had never had a chance to wear before. They were in a nice hotel with a beautiful view of the clear blue ocean. But that could all be sorted out later. Right now she had to sort out Ron. She glanced at him and saw, to her surprise, that he was looking at her from where he stood across the room. She met his gaze and willed herself not to look away, to maintain her composure, to stay cool – but the tears snuck up on her. Her eyes burned. She couldn't help it when a tear slipped down her cheek, and she blinked and wiped it away. "I'm sorry," Ron said, his voice breaking as he watched her crying. "I'm sorry too," Hermione whispered. The tears kept coming, faster and faster until her shoulders were shaking as she gasped for breath. And suddenly he was right in front of her, kneeling on the floor, his dear face inches from her own. He took her face in his hands. "Hermione, please don't cry, I hate it when you cry," he said, his voice full of anguish. That, of course, made her tears fall faster. She took a deep breath, not caring anymore about her pride, and the words spilled out of her mouth: "I'm sorry for not telling you about lunch with Viktor!" He shook his head vehemently. "No, Hermione, it's all my fault. Like you said, I shouldn't have – I should have thought about things before hauling off and doing what I did. I just – something about Krum makes me-" "Irrational? Ridiculous?" Hermione supplied, a strangled laugh bursting from her lips as he smiled slightly. "Yeah, yeah." He nodded. Hermione sucked in a trembling breath. "Ron, you have to know that I would never – there's absolutely nothing between me and Viktor. You must know that you're the only one for me," she sobbed. He pulled her into his arms so that her face was smashed against his wonderful chest. "Damn it, Hermione," he whispered into her hair as she held onto him and cried for dear life. "I've been such a fool – a prize idiot. I should have paid more attention to you with the wedding plans." "Hang the wedding plans," Hermione said angrily into his chest. She tried to wipe the mixture of snot and tears off her face and pulled back to look at him. "I wish I'd stood up to my mum and held out for a small wedding at the Burrow." Ron smiled wryly. "Too late now. The wedding's in five days." His face suddenly paled, his expression became anxious. He swallowed hard. "That is, if you'll still have me." "Honestly, Ron, you idiot, of course I will." He grinned, kissed her soundly, and then pulled her to his chest. They were silent for several long minutes as they clung to each other. "I'm sorry about hitting you," Hermione said finally. She pulled back and touched his cheek. "Did it hurt much?" He scoffed. "Like you could actually hurt me," he said, and then grinned at her outraged expression. "I'm only joking, Hermione, you bloody almost took the skin off." "I did not!" "Almost." "Oh shut it, you," she said, shoving him gently and then molding herself to his chest again. She sighed contentedly as he rested his chin on top of her head. "So… we're staying here overnight, then? Ginny made me pack for it." "Yeah, me too. So, what d'you reckon?" "About…?" "You know, Harry and Ginny. Finally together and all that." Hermione sighed happily. "I think it's marvelous and romantic." Ron snorted. "About bloody time, rather." "That too," Hermione conceded. ~*~*~*~* Harry knocked softly on the door an hour later. Ginny pressed her ear against it and couldn't hear anything. "Well, there's no yelling," she said. "Hopefully that means they're talking rationally." "Unless they've killed each other." Ginny winced. "Good point." Harry stuck the key in the door and slowly opened it. Ginny peered past him and what she saw warmed her heart: Hermione and Ron, cuddled together on the bed. Ron grinned when he saw them and pointed at Hermione. "She's asleep," he mouthed. Harry nodded, grinning, and Ginny crept into the room. "We have somewhere to be in about an hour," she whispered to her brother. "Can you meet us in the lobby then?" Ron nodded, his hand running through Hermione's bushy hair, and Ginny felt a sudden upsurge of love for her brother. She kissed him quickly on the cheek. "I'm glad everything's all right," she said, feeling a bit misty, and turned around and hurried from the room before she got too emotional. ~*~*~*~* Hermione shifted on her feet – encased in pretty sandals that she had bought on a whim two months ago – and straightened her sundress again. "Where are they?" she asked, frustrated. "Better question is, what are we doing?" Ron asked from beside her. He frowned down at his light blue and yellow tie as he fiddled with it. Hermione reached up and tidied it. "I assume we're going to dinner," she said, although she couldn't keep the uncertainty from her voice. It was, after all, only about half-past five – not exactly the prime dinner hour. "Mr. Weasley? Miss Granger?" They turned as one to face the nondescript hotel employee. He bowed to them slightly. "If you will follow me, I'll take you to Miss Weasley and Mr. Potter." Ron and Hermione exchanged a baffled look before they followed the man out of the pretty lobby and outside. The warm, salty sea air hit them and Hermione breathed deeply, taking a minute to enjoy their surroundings. The ocean was laid out before them, accessed by the long boardwalk they were following the hotel employee down, and the sun had just begun to set on their right. She slipped her hand into Ron's big palm and he smiled at her. "What d'you reckon?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. Hermione shrugged in response, smiling back effortlessly, feeling as though the wind was sweeping her cares away as it lifted her hair and ruffled her sundress. The hotel employee bowed again when they reached the end of the boardwalk. He gestured off to the right and Hermione turned, putting a hand up to shield her eyes. She saw Harry and Ginny and someone else – and old man who looked vaguely familiar – standing a few meters away, close to the water. "They are waiting for you," the employee said, and Ron and Hermione went down the stairs. They kicked off their shoes and placed them with Harry and Ginny's before, hand in hand, they walked towards them. When they were several feet away Ron stopped dead, sucking in a quick breath. Hermione turned to him, worried, and saw his eyes were pinned on the third man with Harry and Ginny. Hermione turned back to the three people speaking together and then it hit her where she'd seen the elderly man before: he was the officiant who had performed the three other Weasley weddings Hermione had attended. Her first thought was that it was Harry and Ginny who had decided to get married. She could do nothing but stand there, gaping, as Ginny, her red hair blowing gently around her face, approached them holding a simple bouquet of colorful tropical flowers with tears pooling in her brown eyes. "What's going on?" Ron croaked from behind Hermione. "Don't look so shocked, mate," Harry said, clapping him on the shoulder genially. "It's your wedding, after all." Hermione's windpipe closed suddenly. She stared at the bouquet as Ginny held it out to her. "What-?" she stammered, taking the flowers automatically. Harry and Ginny glanced at each other, grinning. "We decided that everyone has lost sight of the actual goal of all the mad planning, which is you two getting married," Ginny explained. "And then we thought that if you went ahead and got married before the ceremony, it would take all that pressure and stress away and you could concentrate on each other," Harry said, his eyes trained on Hermione's face, waiting for her reaction. She had felt numb momentarily, but at their words, all the blood began rushing through her body. Her palms started sweating, her heart thumping, her face flushing. She turned around and looked up at Ron as if in a dream. "What d'you reckon?" Ron asked again, this time hoarsely and with such hope on his face that Hermione's heart tugged. And as she stood there – feet in the wet sand, hair tangling around her face, hands clutching a bouquet – and looked into his blue eyes, she saw herself, her eternity. A sense of calm and peace that she hadn't known in a very long time, if ever, stole over her. She held out her hand to him. "Let's do it," she said. So right there, in front of their two best friends, with no bells, whistles, or even rings, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley pledged their eternal devotion to each other, and it was perfect.
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