It was supposed to be a quiet affair, originally.
"It'll be just us, right?" Ron stood before his dresser mirror, nervously adjusting his necktie for what seemed to be the dozenth time since he had put it on three minutes ago.
Harry, fully dressed and sprawled spread eagle on the bed behind him, his head hanging upside down off of the side of, sighed. "Not just us," he drawled. His glasses were sliding off of his nose towards the floor, and he pushed them back into place with one finger. "Your brothers- and Neville and Dean and maybe Seamus, if he can get in-"
"He better bloody get in," Ron growled. He tore the tie off os his neck and heaved it against the wall. "I'm getting married tomorrow, for Merlin's sake. Married-"
The door popped open suddenly, banging against the wall and startling both Ron and Harry. They turned as Bill's head peeked around the doorjamb. "Almost ready, Ronnie?"
"Yes, Ronnie," George shouted from somewhere behind Bill, in the depths of the attic stairway. "Wouldn't want to be late for your own bachelor party, would you, Ronniekins?"
Ron shot Harry a look of undisguised irritation. "Does he have to come?"
"I'm afraid so," Harry replied ruefully, standing. "He's paying."
When they arrived at the Leaky Cauldron, Ron was frightened to see that quite a gathering preceded him. Besides Dean and Neville, there was a collection of other Hogwarts alumni, many that Ron hadn't seen in years. Ernie MacMillian, Thomas Corner, Dennis Creevey- the list of faces piled on. All were drinking and gave a raucous cheer as Ron entered, lifting their glasses towards the rafters. Old Tom shuffled forwards to press a mug of bubbling firewhiskey into his hands. "It's on the house," he grinned, and George snorted.
"No, it's not. It's on me." He elbowed Ron, spilling some of teh drink, and tousled his hair. "Nothing but the best for my little brother on his last night of freedom." The men cheered again, Neville knocked over a chair, Ron choked down a sip of his drink- and the night began.
It was an unremembered slew of jokes and stories and laughter and round after round of drinks. George bandied about his latest invention; Dean Thomas taught them a Muggle drinking game; Charlie sang a song in slurred Romanian about loose change and bawdy witches; Neville and Harry retold old DA stories. A blustered Seamus Finnegan arrived late, spinning out of the fireplace and into a table with a short scream of "Congratulations, Weasley!"
More men arrived as the night drew on. Cormac McLaggen swaggered in and presented Ron with a silver tankard, inscribed with "King Weasley", much to the delight of George and to Ron's uncomfortable embarrassment. Justin Finch-Fletchley came with Zacharias Smith, both already tipsy and followed by a somber Rolf Scamander, whom Ron barely knew but greeted warmly, if only for Luna's sake. Jordan Lee, Anthony Goldstein, Terry Boot- the list went on and on. Tom, refilling Ron's new tankard despite his protestations, told him slyly,"Closed this place down fer t'night, yer brothers did."
"They did?" Ron asked weakly, and Tom winked.
"It's a big event, when your littlest brother gets married," he said. He threw Harry, at the bar and doing a fairly decent impersonation of old Professor Flitwick, a shrewd look. "I expect we'll have to do this again soon, won't we?"
Ron, uncomfortable aware that he had consumed much more alchohal than he usually did, shrugged, and Tom laughed. "An induction of sorts, aye?"
"No," Ron answered fiercely. "Harry's already inducted - he's been a Weasley for years now."
Tom only offered him a cocked, tight lipped smile and moved on. Ron took his cue and mingled among the crowds, feeling increasingly light headed and sick as he went on. He stopped to listen to a few of Neville's Hogwarts tales and to tell a few of his own, though the words tangled on his tongue and the pictured memories were hazy in his head. Seamus Finnegan sidled up beside him and hooked an arm around his neck. "When do the ladies arrive?" He asked in a slur, and the group around him chortled appreciatively. "Y'did invite t'ladies, din't ye?"
"Of course not," Ron said, clear headed for the first time that night. "No. I'd never do that to Hermione."
"Glad to hear it," someone said in his ear. He turned to find Harry at his shoulder, wearing a crooked grin and a slightly glassy look in his eyes. As their friends laughed uproariously at Ron's stodginent defense of Hermione, Harry took hold of his elbow and lead him away, towards the door. "Come on. It's getting hot in here."
"Getting?" Ron echoed, and Harry threw him a wry grin as he shouldered open the door and pulled Ron out it.
It was cool outside. Ron stood underneath a flickering lamppost in Muggle London and took a deep, shaky breath. "Thanks."
Harry shrugged. "Don't mention it." He stepped up beside Ron, his hands in his pockets. "Feel up to a walk?"
They started down the deserted sidewalk, side by side. Ron, concentrating hard on the cracks in the sidewalks, which seemed determine to jump up at him as soon as he looked away, asked, "You know where you're going, right?"
Harry offered him a raised eyebrow. "Does it matter?" He inquired airily. "We can always Apparate back." He stumbled suddenly over a curb and Ron caught him with a roar of laughter.
"Right," he chuckled. "Great idea, mate. Bloody brilliant, you are."
Harry shook Ron's arm off, smirking. "Sod off."
They walked a few more blocks in silence, their hands swinging loose at their sides and collars turned up against the night air. After a long while, Harry said, very suddenly, "Can you believe it?"
Ron threw him a sideways look. "Sort of." He was quiet, and Harry grinned at him.
"I almost never would have thought- after all of those fights and-"
"I get it," Ron said gruffly. He stopped walking and dropped, very unceremoniously to the curbside. "Who'd have thought she'd pick me?" He held his hands out before him. In the gritty light of the lamppost, they were shaking, his fingers clammy and grey. He tried to imagine what his left hand would look like with a ring on it.
"That's not what I meant." Harry sat down beside him, folding his knees up into a tent beneath his chin. "I mean- sometimes it just feels so surreal. I guess I just keep thinking, lately, about the first time we all met, on the train-"
"And she made fun of me for that stupid spell the twins taught me." Ron shook his head. "And her, her-'You've got some dirt, on your nose-'"
Harry threw back his head and laughed. "'Have you seen a toad?'" He warbled in a ridiculously high falsetto. "'Neville here has lost one-'"
"'Have you read all of the textbooks yet?'" Ron snorted, and Harry nudged him.
"She didn't say that."
"She may as well have," Ron countered. He buried his chin in his arms, his shoulders hunched against a sudden wind. "She was such a nosy prat- a know it all."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Was?"
"Well," Ron corrected, "She still is. But it's more tolerable now."
"I hope so," Harry replied, "Seeing as your about to be stuck with her for the rest of your life."
"Not so much stuck." An automobile turned the corner, and Ron ducked his head to avoid the illuminating headlights. "I like to think of it as sticking."
Harry shook his head, smiling softly. "However you want to look at it, mate." He leaned backwards, his hands pressed into the gritty concrete of the sidewalk. "It's funny how things've worked out, isn't it?"
Ron nodded, closing his eyes. He could still see Hermione, sitting in front of him in some nameless class, skinny and bushy haired, her hand clawing frantically at the air above her head. "Yeah," he said with a slight smile. "Yeah. I never would have thought, in a million years, that annoying Hermione Granger would ever become-"
"Not so annoying?" Harry smirked, and Ron shook his head.
"No, you prat. My- my wife, I guess?"
"You guess?" Harry rolled his eyes. "Might want to sort that out before four o'clock tomorrow afternoon, mate." He chortled suddenly. "Imagine - imagine if you'd stayed with Lavender..."
Ron choked. "Bloody hell, Harry! How can you even say that?"
Harry grinned sneakily. "You haven't still got that lovely necklace, do you? It might be easier to put on than that bloody tie-"
Ron punched his arm. "Stuff it. Of course I don't have it."
"What 'd you do with it?" Harry leered. "I thought it was rather striking on you, myself-"
"I gave it to a garden gnome." Ron gave him a bleak look. "I might've fed it to the basilisk- I don't really know. Does it even matter?"
Harry shrugged carelessly. "As long as it's gone, I suppose not." He let his head loll backwards, his eyes half shut beneath his glasses. "Do you know what I thought about, earlier today, when we were getting ready?"
"Hmm?"
"The Mirror of Erised." He sharpened one eye to Ron, who was offering him a bemused expression. "I mean, what we saw in it that night. My parents-"
"Me as Head Boy. A Quidditch star-"
"Do you think we would've been disappointed if we saw what we ended up wanting- what we became- what we are now?"
"You mean, instead of what we thought we might have wanted then?" Ron shrugged. "Maye a little - but it's better, right? I mean, being Head Boy would have been bloody awful. Prefect was bad enough."
Harry shook his head. "It would have been hard to keep up with the responsibility, you know, on the hunt for Horcruxes-"
"And on the run from Voldemort-"
"-and well... you know." Harry shrugged, still smiling a little, and Ron was suddenly overcome with a feeling of nostalgia so thick that he thought he might choke on it.
"I never really thought about it, but - I guess I just never thought that day at King's Cross was so bloody important. I mean, everyone was always telling me the first day is the most important, that that's when you make friends and enemies for the next seven years..." He nudged Harry's shoulder with his own. "I guess I just never really thought that the Boy-Who-Lived was going to share his Chocolate Frogs with me- or, you know, stand in at my wedding."
"Or marry your sister?" Harry cocked an eyebrow at him. "Weird how we can talk about things like this- about our futures. Remember when we used to go to sleep at night, wondering if we were going to be alive to wake up the next morning?"
Ron sombered. "Yeah," he said softly. Then, after a long minute, he said, "Do you know what my favorite memory of that day is?"
"What?"
"On the train, when Malfoy came into the compartment and you-"
"I didn't shake his hand?" Harry smiled, but it was small, as if the memory cost him something. "I don't know why you're keeping on about that. It was the easiest decision I think I've ever made."
He grinned, and Ron grinned back. "I hope you still feel that way tomorrow, when you've got to give that best man speech in front of half the wizarding community of Britain."
Harry grimaced. "As long as I don't have to give it until after the drinks have been served, I'll be fine."
"And if it's not?"
Harry pursed his lips. "It'd still be allright," he said slowly, a teasing edge to his voice. "I mean, if it's for you."
Ron smiled, and all of the nerves that had plagued him for weeks now seemed to melt into a puddle at his feet. He looked at his wristwatch. "Do you think they've noticed we're missing yet?"
Harry scoffed. "Drunk as they are? No." But he stood anyways, holding his hand out to Ron. "We should head back anyways. Bill's got a hell of a surprise waiting for you."
Ron took his hand and stood with a grimace. "I don't supposed there's any chance we could miss it, is there?"
"I don't think so. He's been waiting to do this an awfully long time."
"How long?"
Harry paused, then shrugged. "Does it really matter?"
"...I suppose not."
Harry smiled, and Ron smiled back as he buttoned his coat. Together, they headed back to the inn.
