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Author: Bella Story: A Real Superiority of Mind Rating: Teens Setting: Pre-DH Status: Completed Reviews: 27 Words: 34,428
A/N: Wow, it’s finished, I can’t believe it! I hope you have all enjoyed reading this story as much as I did writing it. Hundreds of thanks must go to my ever-patient beta, DailyProphetReporting, for his excellent work. And without further ado – the Epilogue! Tears were gushing down Molly’s cheeks when the Muggle minister proclaimed Ron and Hermione husband and wife. She could hardly see them walking down the aisle, she was sobbing so much – they were a blur of white and black, brown and red. It had finally happened. The most emotional, stressful, busy three months in recent memory were over, and the final event had gone off, she was proud to say, without a hitch. (Well, perhaps that was glossing over a few unpleasant happenings, but really, what was the use crying over spilled milk?) She dried her eyes on the handkerchief Arthur offered and made an effort to get a hold of herself, but she was just so happy that her Ronnie was married to Hermione that she simply couldn’t stop. She smiled through her tears as joyful chattering broke out amongst the congregation, Muggles on one side, magical people on the other. They had been dodging odd looks from the Muggles all day. Molly had been obsessed with making sure none of the magical guests – especially her sons – slipped up and said or did something that would provoke awkward questions, or worse, memory charms. But, although she wouldn’t admit it, she rather liked playing Muggle, like she had when she was little. It was quite amusing to be in a lovely dress like the one she had on and to see her boys looking so smart in their suits. “Right,” she said, taking a deep breath and mopping again at her face as she turned around to face her family, “everyone out of the church. We’ve got to get back in that blasted car thing. Have we got everyone? Arthur, you’re looking after Auntie Muriel – and yes, very good-” She was so busy fussing about Arthur, making sure that he was helping Auntie Muriel, that she nearly missed what her children said in the row behind her. “Blimey, look at those two,” said Fred. “Looks like they’re the ones that just got married, eh?” George said with a guffaw. Molly turned around so fast she thought she felt something pop in her neck. She rubbed it distractedly, avidly staring at the couple who were walking several paces behind the bride and groom. “But you don’t think – you don’t think they’re back together, do you?” Bill asked, with skepticism and aversion warring for control of his scarred face. He had been the most partial to Ginny’s side when Harry left her, and while he had never been anything even remotely close to hostile to Harry, everyone knew that he felt Harry was to blame in the issue of their relationship. “Zey are in love,” Fleur said confidently as she bounced little Charlie on her hip. “And, I would think, a couple again as well.” Hope surged in Molly’s chest. Could it be? Had they really – had they mended all the fences? Was she about to get her first (and only) son-in-law? “Have they said anything?” Molly asked breathlessly, facing her children. “Have you heard anything?” She craned her neck to see past the congregation, hoping to catch another glimpse of Harry and Ginny. “Zey don’t need to say anything,” Fleur said breezily. “It is obvious, no?” Could it be? Molly wondered. Had she been so frantic in making sure Ron and Hermione were together this week that she had completely forgot to think of Harry and Ginny? She searched her memory as the family filed out of the pews, trying to find something – some clue, some instance, that they had seemed closer than usual, or friendlier, or anything. She came up blank. She had hardly seen them together; both had been occupied with Hermione and Ron and making sure everything went well with the wedding. She knew that they had been key figures of – and possibly collaborated on – the kidnapping and subsequent reconciliation of Ron and Hermione. But together? Really? A delicious fusion of anticipation and giddiness raced through her, and she had to restrain herself from running up to Harry and Ginny and trying to ascertain, right away, whether or not her children were correct. Plenty of time for that later, she thought to herself, smiling. ~*~*~*~* “Uh oh,” Ginny muttered. “She’s got that look in her eyes.” Harry looked at her, puzzled. “Who?” “Mum,” Ginny said grimly, holding Hermione’s obscenely long train up so it wouldn’t get dirty as they walked down the steps of the church. Harry gripped her arm, more concerned with her falling in her high heels than the state of the train. “She’s cottoning on, I can feel it.” Harry glanced over his shoulder before turning back to the job at hand. “Have we been too obvious?” Ginny snorted lightly. They had hardly seen each other since they returned from the seashore on Tuesday afternoon, deciding they weren’t ready for everyone to know – and wonder – about their reconciliation. It was Ron and Hermione’s week, Ginny had told herself firmly, even while knowing that was just a convenient excuse to put off the inevitable gloating of one Molly Weasley. She knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that once the truth emerged Molly would be leaping to plan another wedding. “No, I don’t think so,” she said, raising her voice slightly as family and friends began pouring out of the church and cheering, “but our time of secrecy is limited, my friend.” He shot her a decidedly inappropriate grin. “But sneaking around is so much fun.” The boy had never spoken truer words. Her cheeks heated and she avoided his gaze at all costs, knowing that if she looked at him now she would undoubtedly throw herself at him. It was as if they’d been trying, in the past five nights, to recover all the shags they had missed in the past four years. Ginny had never known such insatiability, and she feared it would become a lifelong habit. Well, perhaps feared wasn’t the right term. Knew beyond the shadow of a doubt was probably a bit more accurate. Or maybe hoped to goodness was even better. She bundled beaming Hermione and all her tulle and lace up into the awaiting car. The bride and groom would be spending a bit of time alone together before meeting up with everyone at Hermione’s house for the reception. The car roared off down the lane. Ginny heaved a sigh before turning around and facing the music. Molly was breathless when she finally reached Harry and Ginny. Years of hiding their thoughts made sure that their faces were perfectly bland as she scrutinized them to within inches of their lives. “Everything went off all right, then?” she asked. “With the car?” “Yes, Mum,” Ginny said. “Everything’s fine.” Molly nodded, obviously not listening to a word she said. “The dress didn’t get caught in the door?” “No, Mum,” Ginny said, exasperated. Harry cleared his throat gently. “Everything’s fine,” he said, echoing Ginny’s earlier words. He stepped forward and held out his arm to Molly. “Hadn’t we better get onto the bus?” Molly narrowed her eyes, looking between the two again, before taking Harry’s arm. She shot a look at Ginny that stated plainly she was not finished with her probing and then allowed Harry to lead her away. Ginny followed a few steps behind them, admiring Harry’s shapely bum as she did so, before she was distracted by the arrival of Bill and Fleur on either side of her. “Ginny – what’s this I hear about you and Harry?” Bill asked without preamble. Ginny froze for a tiny moment before looking at him neutrally. “What do you mean?” she asked coolly. “You ‘ave told ‘im ‘ow you feel, yes?” Fleur said, her attention focused on her small son. “I can tell. You look at each uzzer as if you are having des rendezvous during the night.” Ginny blushed scarlet. “Fleur!” she choked. Fleur looked at her condescendingly. “I will never understand zis English custom of not speaking about ze sex. It iz childish, I believe. Immature.” “Fleur, please,” Bill said, looking horrified. “Not when it comes to Ginny.” “Oh, because Ginny is too young to do such things, right?” Ginny asked, offended at his tone. “No, that’s not what I – oh, bugger it all!” Bill exclaimed, clearly at the end of his rope. “Are you together or what?” They stopped outside the large bus, waiting to board (Auntie Muriel was having a difficult time with the stairs). Ginny met his eyes pensively. After a few seconds she said, “If you tell anyone, I will kill you. Regardless of your wife and children, born or unborn.” Bill gaped at her. Fleur tossed her silvery blonde head. “See? I told you so. I ‘ave a gift for seeing zese things of love,” she said, joining the queue and allowing Charlie to be fussed over by several elderly relatives of Hermione’s. “But – but Ginny – after what he did to you-” “Do you trust me?” Ginny asked him, her hands on her periwinkle hips, her eyes blazing up at him. He opened and closed his mouth several times, clearly at a loss for words. “Well? Do you?” “Well, yes, of course,” Bill spluttered. “But-” “If I wasn’t sure of this decision I wouldn’t have made it,” she told him firmly. “And that’s all the explanation I’m going to give you. Any of you.” She plopped down next to Great Auntie Muriel, deciding she was the only member of the family who wouldn’t say anything having to do with her love life as Auntie Muriel had been a widow – not to mention senile – for about twenty years. The barmy old woman put yet another sloppy, lipstick-smeared kiss on her cheek before saying to her conspiratorially (or what she probably thought was conspiratorially – in reality, her voice was so loud due to her hearing issues that Ginny thought she might have gone temporarily deaf in one ear), “Have you got a young man yet, young Ginevra? By the time I was your age, I’d already been married twice, did you know? First was a bastard, I’m telling you, a real bastard. Turns out he had plans to steal my tiara. Well, let me tell you, my girl, a well-placed charm on any man where the sun doesn’t shine will put a stop to any designs he might have on your money. Remember that, young Ginevra. And my second husband, great Merlin’s wand, he was a piece of work, let me tell you….” ~*~*~*~* Well, they’d done it. Pulled it all off. The marquees behind Hermione’s house were filled with laughing, talking guests, thrilled with the beautiful wedding and the devotion of the bride and groom, never once suspecting that this had been their second wedding. And that the first wedding had been infinitely more beautiful in its simplicity. Not that Hermione and Ron weren’t having a blast, because they definitely were, especially on the dance floor. Ron was hopping about exuberantly with four-year-old Alais, Hermione was being twirled around a bit clumsily by Neville Longbottom, and they were both extremely happy. Neville stood on her foot for the hundredth time. “Sorry, Hermione,” he said, wincing. “Guess I haven’t really improved since fourth year.” “Oh, Neville, don’t be silly, you’re wonderful,” Hermione said a bit breathlessly, her toes slightly numbed by now. She glanced over at Ron and beamed; he had picked Alais up and he was twirling her around and making her laugh. Her heart seized; she had absolutely no problem imagining that Alais was their daughter and how Ron would dote on any child they had. That they would have. They were going to have. Because, you see, Hermione had a little secret that she had discovered the morning before, and she was planning on telling Ron that night. The surprise had been a bit earlier than Hermione had planned – well, several years too early, actually – but she had discovered, to her slight confusion, that the overwhelming emotion that had welled up in her when she had discovered her new state had been contentment. She was ready for this. Since then it had been killing her not telling Ron, not telling anyone – in fact, Ginny was the only one who knew. And speaking of Ginny – a long flash of bright red hair caught the corner of her eye and Hermione turned to see her lovely bridesmaid dancing with Arthur. Ginny looked perfectly happy, and, Hermione noticed, her eyes kept darting with regularity to a nearby table where one Boy Who Lived was seated. Harry was talking to Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas, reminiscing, no doubt, about the old days at Hogwarts. The song ended just then and Hermione clapped with the others. She thanked Neville and then told him she needed to sit down and find something to drink; he very obligingly seated her at the table with Bill and Fleur and went off to fetch her a glass of water. Bill and Fleur were so wrapped up in each other that they didn’t even notice the arrival of the bride, which suited Hermione just fine; she was content just to sit and watch the people she loved the most in the world interact. The chair beside her scraped and Hermione found herself face-to-face with her new mother-in-law. “Taking a break, dear?” Molly asked, beaming at Hermione. “My goodness, you’ve been on your feet all day, you must be exhausted.” Hermione laughed and sipped the water Neville had brought her. “Yes, I certainly am.” Molly continued to smile at her but she looked a bit odd. Hermione frowned. “Is everything all right, Molly?” “Oh, yes, dear,” she said absently, scanning the crowd of people around them. “Yes, everything is perfectly lovely. It’s only that…” Here she paused and turned back to Hermione. She looked distinctly troubled. “It’s only what?” Hermione prodded gently. “Well… I’ve been hearing the strangest rumors. Concocted, no doubt, by some son of mine to drive me mad, but I do wonder….” Hermione waited, silent, her heart thumping. Had someone started a rumor about her pregnancy? Had Ginny caved and told someone? “Wonder what?” she asked breathlessly. “Well, I suppose I could ask you, seeing as how you are intimately acquainted with the object of the rumor,” Molly hemmed. “Yes? What is it?” Hermione burst. Molly leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Harry and Ginny,” she whispered, with a meaningful arch of her eyebrow. Hermione’s shock must have shown on her face, because Molly looked crestfallen. “Then it’s not true?” she asked, her tone tragically disappointed. “Oh – no! I mean – it’s not – well, I…” Hermione stuttered, face flushing, as Molly’s expression changed to one of suspicion. “Is everything all right, dear?” she asked, peering closely at her. “Yes,” Hermione said firmly. “Yes, everything’s fine. I’m – um, I told Ron I would find him.” Molly nodded, looking distracted. “Yes, of course. Go ahead, Hermione dear.” Hermione practically fled across the dance floor and joined Ron at the table where Harry, Seamus, and Dean were located. “That was a close call,” Hermione said under her breath from her seat in between Ron and Harry, who were listening as Seamus told a story about a detention Professor McGonagall had given him in fourth year. “What was?” Harry asked, focusing on her. “Molly just nearly pried the truth about you and Ginny out of me,” she said, and they shared a grin. “I was so flustered I almost gave you away.” “Good thing you didn’t,” Harry said, shaking his head. “Ginny would’ve had my hide. And then I would have had to share one of your secrets with Ron or something.” “Secrets,” Hermione scoffed. “I haven’t got any that Ron doesn’t know.” A slow grin spread across Harry’s face. His green eyes sparkled at her behind his spectacles. “Oh, but you do, my friend.” Hermione frowned at him. “What are you talking about?” “You never told him what really went on during the sixth-year Quidditch tryouts, did you, Hermione?” Hermione’s eyes widened to enormous proportions as she realized what he was talking about. “I can’t believe you remember that! I can’t believe I forgot that!” she cried, torn between amused and scandalized. “Forgot what, love?” Ron asked from beside her. Hermione stiffened and Harry burst out laughing. “Harry,” she said warningly. “What is it? What’s so funny?” Ron demanded. “Er, nothing, darling,” Hermione said hastily, facing him. “Shall we have another dance?” Ron didn’t budge. Hermione cursed the Weasley stubbornness. “What’s Harry laughing at?” he persisted. “Come on, let me in on it,” he wheedled, giving her a smile that made her melt – for a second. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, nobody knows. Come on, Ron, let’s go dance,” Hermione said, attempting to haul Ron bodily out of his chair. “Yeah, go ahead, Ron,” Harry said, trying to get a hold of himself. “It was just – er, we were just remembering sixth year.” “Oh, fifth year,” Ginny said dramatically, materializing on Harry’s other side and flopping down into the chair. “That’s not a year I’ll soon forget.” Dean coughed. “Er – you cherish fond memories of our relationship, right, Ginny?” Ginny grinned at him across the table. “Exactly. And Won-Won’s relationship with Lav-Lav – no offense, Seamus – and Hermione’s with that great git.” Hermione felt waves of heat washing over her. She could not believe they were discussing this at her wedding. “Please, no,” she said to no one in particular. “Oh, yeah,” Dean said, laughing. “I forgot Hermione went out with McLaggen.” “That’s because I didn’t really,” Hermione protested, but no one heard her. Seamus scrunched up his face. “Oy, I remember that,” he said. “Hey, Harry, he was on the Quidditch team, wasn’t he?” “Bloody wanker,” Ron said scowling. “Second string – only got to play when I got poisoned.” “He was pretty good at tryouts, if I remember,” Dean said, frowning slightly as he stretched his mind. “But then he went sort of – wonky, didn’t he?” Oh, dear Lord, Hermione thought, praying to any deity that might be listening that they would stop talking about this and move on. “Ron, let’s dance,” she said, tugging at his arm. “He went wonky because he was so intimidated by me,” Ron said, looking self-satisfied. “Oh, my God,” Ginny gasped from the other side of Harry. Hermione whirled around and met her eyes; they were sparkling with realization and unholy amusement over the hand she had clapped over her mouth. Oh, Merlin’s beard. Hermione had told Ginny, hadn’t she? Why? Why? “What?” Dean asked, grinning at Ginny. “What is it?” he asked her. “No – no, I’m not saying anything,” Ginny said, grinning widely as she shook her head. “She knows something about McLaggen going wonky, look at her!” Seamus crowed, watching as Ginny stood from the table. “I don’t know anything. Dean, want to dance?” Ginny asked. Hermione was growing increasingly agitated. She tugged on Ron’s arm so hard that he finally stood up, looking puzzled. “What’s wrong, Hermione?” he asked. Hermione glanced at Ginny and then back at everyone else at the table. Seamus and Dean were looking at them both shrewdly. “Looks like Hermione knows something about McLaggen going wonky, too,” Seamus observed, grinning wolfishly. “Well, come on, out with it. What’d you do, Confund him?” he asked, looking at Hermione. Hermione felt the blood rush into her cheeks, and she knew that she was caught. Ginny burst out laughing and even Harry couldn’t keep it in anymore. “No way!” Seamus cried. “You Confunded him?” The entire table erupted into laughter. Well, the entire table except for Ron, who was looking at Hermione with disbelieving blue eyes. “What?” he asked her. “Oh, Ron, please don’t be angry,” Hermione begged. “It was stupid – it was so long ago, I don’t even know why I did it-” “You really Confunded him?” Ron asked. Hermione swallowed. “Yes,” she said quietly after a long minute. “Why?” he asked, looking so hurt that Hermione felt a leap of panic in her stomach. “You didn’t think I could do it on my own?” “No, Ron of course I did, I just – I just panicked. I wanted you to be on the team so badly because I knew that was what you wanted-” “So you Confunded him and let me win by cheating,” Ron said, his blue eyes lighting angrily. “Thanks a lot for the vote of confidence, Hermione.” “Ron!” Hermione said furiously, unable to believe he was provoking her at their wedding reception. “I did it because I loved you, okay? I loved you then, I love you now, we just got married, we’re going to have a baby-” Ron’s face drained of all color. He swayed on his feet. “What did you say?” he gasped. Hermione grabbed onto his arm to steady him. “Oh, buggering – I didn’t mean to tell you now, I was going to tell you later – Harry, help me-” Harry took one look at Ron’s face and helped Ron sink heavily down onto the chair behind him. Ron hadn’t taken his eyes off of Hermione’s face. “What did you say?” he repeated, looking slightly frantic. He was clutching her hands so hard that she was starting to lose feeling in her fingers. “I said – I said, we’re having a baby,” Hermione whispered, kneeling in front of him and pulling their intertwined hands to her chest. No one was listening to them except Ginny, who already knew, and Harry, who sucked his breath in when he heard her. “We’re having a…” “A baby, yes,” Hermione said. She was starting to feel panicked, as his face seemed to be permanently frozen in disbelief. “Ron, please, talk to me,” she said, tears welling up in her eyes. “Please say something. I’m sorry about McLaggen, it was stupid of me to do, but I just-” He cut her off with a bruising kiss. “Shut up,” he said, breathing heavily when he pulled back several seconds later. “I’m going to be a dad.” And then he was kissing her, pulling her into his lap, and Hermione was crying and laughing against his mouth, and Harry and Ginny were laughing behind them, and everything was perfect. ~*~*~*~* It was approaching one o’clock in the morning when the guests – magical and Muggle – began leaving the reception. Ron and Hermione had departed several hours before with eyes only for each other, and the party had continued on without them. But Molly’s feet ached and the caterers were beginning to clean up, so she turned to take stock of the family members still there. Arthur was sitting at a table with Auntie Muriel, and both were snoring gently in their seats. Bill and Fleur, who had gone home briefly to turn their children over to a baby-sitter for the evening, were dancing slowly together, Fleur’s perfect cheek against Bill’s scarred one, looking so very content that Molly felt her heart swell. The twins had gone to their separate homes several hours ago as well, Fred and Angelina to check on their twins (they had never returned) and George and Susanna because Susanna was just too exhausted to continue dancing. Everyone else had gone home as well, she thought, everyone except – Wait. Where were Harry and Ginny? Molly’s brow furrowed. She hadn’t seen either of them leave, and surely they would have told her if they were going. She walked over to Arthur’s table and shook him awake. “Arthur, dear,” she said. He snorted and jerked his head up, looking around bemusedly. “Yes, Mollywobbles?” he said, his throat scratchy from sleep. He looked so very adorable that she couldn’t resist bending down and kissing him. “How long have you been asleep, Arthur?” He yawned widely and pushed his glasses up onto his nose. “Er – asleep? Well… I don’t think… hmm. Shall I see Auntie Muriel home?” Molly smiled. “Yes, that would be lovely, dear. Oh, and Arthur – Ginny didn’t leave, did she? Or Harry?” Arthur frowned. “Not that I can remember. Why? Are they missing?” Molly waved her hand dismissively. “No, no,” she said, already focusing her attention elsewhere. Where could they be? “You see Muriel home. I’ll be back there soon.” After thoroughly searching the rest of the marquees, Molly almost gave Harry and Ginny up for lost, but then she changed her mind and decided to step out of the heated tents and go out into the chilly December night. Hermione’s home was situated on the outskirts of the town of Cabell and she had a rather large but very pretty garden. Not as picturesque as the Burrow, oh, no, but still lovely. A good place for a wedding, Molly thought – for one of Hermione’s relatives, of course. The moon was bright – not full, as they had been careful to plan the wedding around the full moon to make sure Remus would be in full health for the celebration – and lit the garden well. The sloping lawn was decorated with beds of flowers here and there and rather ornately trimmed shrubberies (a hobby of Mr. Granger’s, according to Hermione), with stone benches interspersed. Molly was sweeping her eyes over the benches when, through the dim glow of the moon, she spotted an unmistakable splash of bright red. And then – yes – the red was mixed with the equally unmistakable outline of messy, black hair. They were seated together on the bench and appeared to be attached at the mouth. When this moment came, Molly had expected that she would feel so joyful that she wouldn’t be able to contain her glee. She had thought that she would want to shout from the rooftops that Harry and Ginny were together, they were united once more, that Harry was again close to being an official member of the family. Instead, however, Molly felt like she was finally at peace. The warmest glow of contentment swept over her so quickly and overwhelmingly that she felt tears spring to her eyes. She wiped them away and, after stealing one last glance at the couple on the bench, turned away and went back into the brightly lit, emptying tents. She sighed. They were together. Molly could hardly wait. Ginny was going to be such a beautiful bride.
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