A/N: This is actually a section of a massive book 7 idea I have, except that I'll probably never write it. So what I'll do instead is take some of my favourite parts from the idea and write them, and who knows, maybe they'll add up to something.

This is probably as much as we're going to get of R/H fluff in the next book, seeing as it is from Harry's POV, and JKR did say we'd see a certain Bulgarian again. Anyhow, it's short, it's sweet, it's fluff, and it'll get a little o' the R/H cravin's outta ya

Several Owed Dances

The twilight was shining with fairies and laughter. Bill and Fleur were officially married, and the chatter of French and English mingled in the steadily appearing stars. Everyone had greeted the newly wedded couple with smiles that were becoming rarer and rarer in this darker time. But now, in this moment, it was quite apparent that the Weasley reception was going well for everyone. Well, almost everyone. Sitting on their own, wine glasses held loosely in their hands, Harry and Ron sat and watched, once again the wall-flower victims of a dance.

Harry was once again staring across at someone he couldn't have, and Ron was once again glowering at a Bulgarian Quidditch star. Ron and Hermione's situation had been going well for them. During the ceremony, he had escorted her to her seat, and Harry had caught their hands resting very close to one another's. All had been well, until Viktor Krum appeared on the scene. Krum had spotted Hermione in the crowd, and before everyone had exited to the reception area, he had found her and begun a conversation that continued even now, and Ron was furious.

It was a situation almost replicated for the youngest Weasley son, but for Harry… In essence it was the same. The girl he was watching was beautiful, and the girl he was watching did not look back at him. But it was not the same girl. It was not the same person. And that person did not seem to be having a good time.

Harry blinked and tried to look away, but he couldn't. He was staring at her with an intensity that frightened even him. Ginny was glorious in her silky cream. It was clinging to her on all the right parts and he fought the memories of what those parts felt like up against him. He fought the thought of how that silk fabric would feel pressing on his own robes, how it would feel between his fingers, how it would feel sliding off her—Harry looked away at once. These were the sort of things he wasn't allowed to think of anymore—that privilege was no longer his. He gave it up. He gave her up.

He needed a distraction. And the only one that could possibly keep his attention was the one next to him. Harry could practically feel the heat of anger coming off from Ron, and he followed his gaze toward to source of Ron's fury: Hermione and Krum.

The dancing had only just begun, Bill and Fleur having swept across the floor in some beautiful artistic dance that Harry could never hope to replicate. Now several couples were trotting their way across the floor, numbers increasing in faster songs and thinning out in the slower ones. Hermione, however, was not dancing with Krum, and had not. She was, however, standing with him near the floor, having what seemed to be a great time catching up. Harry, now that he had focused his attention to them, could catch bits of their conversation. Ron, it seemed, had been doing nothing else. He had stopped looking at them, but his eyes were glazed over and hardened, and his face twitched nastily whenever one of them laughed.

"When I heard about your team hiring a replacement—"

"No, really, it vas nothing. I am not offended. In vact, I vas thinking about quviting."

"Really?"

"Really. It is… not my calling."

"Bloody bastard." Ron finally spoke. His voice was terse and beyond clipped. "Bloody, bloody bastard."

Ginny has suddenly moved from her position at the bridal table. Fleur and Gabrielle had been talking fervently, and Harry had no doubt Ginny was bored. How he wished he could help alleviate it. Harry focused himself more urgently on Hermione and Krum to not follow Ginny with his eyes, to see where she went. It wasn't his business anymore, after all. He sighed and said, "Hermione's not interested in him, Ron."

"Oh really? Oh really?" Ron turned to stare at his friend. "Looks like she's having a great time to me!" (Hermione seemed to choose that moment to laugh.) "I mean honestly, Harry, I—" Ron's voice was becoming more and more tense and he balled his fisted uselessly at his sides. "This is the second time he's—I mean I didn't think I needed to ask her—but I thought she cared about this just as much as me! Well she can just forget it! I'll not be snubbed twice for the same guy by her and—well, well, that's it then, isn't it? Guess so, nothing I can do, I'll just—"

"I broke up with Ginny."

"I—you what?"

"I broke up with Ginny."

Ron was finally, it seemed, at a loss for words. He mouthed for a moment then said, "When?"

"At the funeral."

"…Why?"

"To keep her safe."

Ron stared at his friend for a moment with a look of—was is regret?—in his eyes. "But, I mean, you two were—I mean, I thought you'd be—"

"It doesn't matter anymore. Listen, Ron," Harry turned to face him. "I know you like Hermione. I've known it for a long time. Hell, you might even love her, which I consider to be very likely at the rate you're going. No, please, let me finish. I'm going to be real honest with you, mate. It is pathetic to watch you sit here and pout when I know just as well as you do that she loves you too. And it's really depressing because, quite frankly, you have the chance to be with the person you care about, while—" Harry stopped, and looked away. "While the only person I want to be with I'm forced to watch from afar…You think this is torture for you? You have no idea."

Harry waited a moment, then glanced back at Ron, who was staring at him open mouthed. Harry shrugged, voice softening. "Just…get up and do something. She's just waiting for you to ask her to dance."

It was a guess, but he doubted his being wrong, for Hermione had for the past few minutes, it seemed, been trying to get away from her Bulgarian friend. Harry and Ron sat in silence, Ron at a loss for words, and Harry with nothing left to say. Hermione and Krum's conversation had drifted their way again.

"Well, I really must get back."

"Are you sure? Can I get you something? Vine?"

"No, really, I—"

Harry opened his mouth again to speak, to shove Ron into action, to incite him—but he stopped. Ginny was once again at her seat. And she was looking back at him.

"Vell, vood you like to dance?"

"Oh, um, well, you see, it's just that I really only—erm…"

The world was slowing and his blood was rising. Don't look away, please, don't—

"…I mean, I'm sort of here with someone. I mean, not officially, he didn't ask, but it's sort of a—"

"Excuse me."

The moment was gone. She had looked away, and Harry had turned in surprise. That had been Ron's voice. He saw now, that Ron had left his seat and now stood by Hermione, who was grinning so widely that her eyes almost brimmed with tears. She made some attempt to compose herself however, as she said, "Viktor, you remember Ron?"

"Oh, of course, the jealous von." Krum grinned as he extended his hand, which Ron took, very red in the ears.

"Yes, uh, well, I don't want to interrupt, but, I believe I owe this lady a dance."

It was surprisingly elegant for Ron, and it seemed to surprise Hermione as well as Harry. Ron offered his arm, and she took it, now not smiling, but giving him a look that Harry blushed to intrude on. Ron nodded to Krum, held his head a little higher, and swept her onto the dance floor.

Sometimes things just clicked in the world for, at that moment, the moon rose from over the trees, and a slower song crept through the night air. Harry's eyes laughed as he watched his two best friends blush in an awkward embrace. He chuckled. They would loosen through the night, however, Harry knew. He shook his head, looked down, and muttered, "I believe you owe her several dances, Ron."