Summary; Ron and Hermione, what more can I say? It's finally their wedding
day and all would be fine if not for a little fog.
Hello out there! This is my first fic and I would appreciate any response, even a simple 'It was fine' would make my day! It's short but I'm working on a longer one so keep an eye out! Enjoy!
Disclaimer; Do I own Harry Potter? Hmm.you know I just can't remember.
NorthEasterly; Fine with Fog Patches
By powerpetal
Hermione smiled as Ginny left the previously crowded room in dizziness muttering under her breath something to do with page boys. Hermione's smile turned into a laugh as she remembered all the preparations, laughs and arguments for that matter, that led to this one day. Her wedding day.
Being Mrs. Ronald Wealsey was an attractive prospect to the brown eyed workaholic. It had taken several years, several tears and an unhealthy amount of shouting to get here. But she wouldn't have it any other way.
Hermione turned in the ornate room to survey herself in the mirror. Her now sleek hair sat neatly, Ron always says he loved the bush she normally carried but this was her day. The embroidered bodice shone in the midday sunshine whilst her long skirt twirled as she swayed imagining all that was to come. An involuntary smile sprang to her face.
But Hermione was not one to be complacent. Taking a deep breath she reached for her bouquet which was unusually filled with daisies. Mrs Granger had been quite dismayed. First of all her only daughter was marrying a wizard at the tender age of 21 but insisted on having mere daisies in her bouquet. But as Mrs Granger knew only too well, her daughter was not a force to be reckoned with. She said the daisies reminded her of the slopping greens of Hogwarts and it would act as her something new, having just filled the post of Arithmacy professor. And that was that.
Still by herself Hermione was rolling back her shoulders ready to face all their family and friends when Ginny, still scurrying about, entered in a burst of children's cries, glass breaking and lavender scent.
"Everything's fine," she said with a pained smile.
"What's wrong?!" Hermione replied as her nerves began to return.
"Why would you think something was wrong?" Ginny tried, in vain, to joke.
"You only say everything is fine when there's a problem."
Ginny saw a Bride-zilla rearing it's paranoid head and she settled for the truth. If there were facts behind her news, Hermione would have a moment of calm before it all set in.
"OK. Well there's a tiny wheeny itsi bitsi problem."
Ginny took the reserved silence and crossing of arms as a sign to continue.
"Well. the thing is. Ron must have gone for a walk and hasn't come back yet." The last bit came out in a hurry.
"Oh," was all the response she got.
"I'm sure we'll find him! Probably got lost, you know that brother of mine!"
Silence.
"Do you. er." Ginny started.
"No, just find him. so I can wring his neck." The last part was laughed through, genuinely which made Ginny jump to the conclusion that it was a form of manic confusion laughing. So she lingered reaching behind her for the door handle.
Hermione suddenly turned serious and her eyes met Ginny's. Emotions poured out, of sadness, of regret, of relief, of bravery but also of joy and happiness.
"Really Ginny, I'm fine just here."
"OK. Well if you're sure." and Ginny, thinking it was best, left the room.
Hermione looked over at the grand mahogany dresser where only hours before a multitude of female relatives had fussed over her. She walked beside it and ran her finger along the polished surface, remembering how they had scrimped and saved to hire out the grand country house where she now stood. It had previously belonged to a distant Uncle of hers, their something old. Now it was only her something old.
She had continued to walk around the room and had now reached the bed where her abandoned bouquet lay. Stroking the deep navy blue sheet, she thought that Ron would be a bit more eager to run up the aisle if he saw the grand bed. She couldn't help but smile and then she laughed out loud. Despite the normal severity of the situation she continued to chuckle and knew what only her and her alone could and would do.
She disapparated with a small 'pop'.
***
The sun was still high in the sky as a suited Ron wandered amongst the garden of a stately country house somewhere in Wiltshire. Looking around him he knew why she liked it. It was neat, and ordered, and sensible. Everything he wasn't.
Sighing, he sat down on a clean iron bench. The last thing he wanted to do was look up at the large house, its inviting ivy covered windows, lavender scent, kind nature, full bodied laugh. He had turned to the white slate building and already all he could think of was Hermione.
He loved her and that would always be the problem. He couldn't help but love her. God knows he had tried to and had inadvertently, with the help of a burning wax candle, a box of canary creams and Amanda Hobbs from the year above, found of her feelings. Which complicated matters somewhat.
In all honesty he couldn't quite pinpoint the moment when he decided to leave. It was nothing that anyone had said or done. It had just occurred and he did it. Never one to think things through he now didn't know what to do. What would Hermione do? There she was again.
He pondered why he found himself outside. He knew she loved him but couldn't think about what had happened between Harry and Ginny in their seventh year. Having finally accepted fate and, shall we say, 'got together' it was good for a while, really good. But a combination of Ginny's free spirit and Harry's dedication to saving the world once in while had meant they had not spoken in three years. And Ron could not face the prospect of hurting Hermione and never talking to her again. It would be too much. Maybe she would forgive him for leaving the wedding and be friends, which was better than nothing. And on top of that, he just didn't feel he was good enough for the girl who had graduated top of her class as Head girl with the highest results ever recorded.
So engrossed in his thoughts, it did not disturb him when a young women in a pretty white dress sat next to him. In fact it felt so totally natural that she would be there.
"I'm glad you went with the blue tie," she merely commented never looking at him but instead at the bold hills that surrounded them.
"Yeah, Mum said it looked better than the Chudley Cannons one." He replied, too looking at the horizon.
"Well, I did tell you, your dad said you could borrow that one ages ago."
"Yeah, but I can't always let you get your own way."
To anyone who had been watching, they would have thought they were a couple of friends enjoying the view. Just dress a little too formally.
Ron knew they had to talk and he thought she would be angry and upset and would probably hit him quite hard on the shoulder but he enjoyed just being in her company talking about nothing in particular. It had been during one of these unimportant conversations he had realised he loved her.
"Weather's nice. No sign of rain, just like those wedder men said."
"Mmm, it is nice. The weather man said last night there might be fog."
"Yeah I heard that too."
Then in unison they said, "NorthEasterly; fine with Fog patches."
Hermione was the first to laugh and their gaze met as both beamed.
"You listened to the shipping forecast?" Hermione asked in amazement and wonder.
"Yeah," Ron replied sheepily not diverting his eyes from her face. "Ever since you got me that gigital radio, it's become a bit of a habit."
"Oh. I couldn't sleep very well last night so, you know, just listened in."
"I didn't know that the great Hermione Granger got nervous!"
"You're one to talk, and a bit less of the Granger please."
Both their eyes returned to the picturesque landscape but their hands were entwined. Hermione began.
"I was nervous, a couple of weeks ago, about this but then I realised something. There was only one person in the whole world that I wanted to confide in. That would make me feel better, well actually make me feel silly and then tease me. Then I'd have to hit him on the shoulder and then he would make me feel better. And so I knew that this was right," she said gesturing to the white gown and grand surroundings.
"And this," she said squeezing his hand tightly. Both their gazes still lay on the fern covered countryside.
She had done it again. Made him realise that it was worth the trepidation of making her cry and the fear of making her scream. He knew it could be bad; they could shout and yell, grumble and moan, sulk and rage. It could be so bad.
But then it could be so good, so very good. She didn't need an apology, sweet heart felt words or even recognition of her presence. He was just Ron and that was just fine.
Together they sat up and began to walk up the gravel path to the ceremony and the rest of their lives.
"Nice dress by the way."
And there was the punch on the shoulder.
Fin!
Hello out there! This is my first fic and I would appreciate any response, even a simple 'It was fine' would make my day! It's short but I'm working on a longer one so keep an eye out! Enjoy!
Disclaimer; Do I own Harry Potter? Hmm.you know I just can't remember.
NorthEasterly; Fine with Fog Patches
By powerpetal
Hermione smiled as Ginny left the previously crowded room in dizziness muttering under her breath something to do with page boys. Hermione's smile turned into a laugh as she remembered all the preparations, laughs and arguments for that matter, that led to this one day. Her wedding day.
Being Mrs. Ronald Wealsey was an attractive prospect to the brown eyed workaholic. It had taken several years, several tears and an unhealthy amount of shouting to get here. But she wouldn't have it any other way.
Hermione turned in the ornate room to survey herself in the mirror. Her now sleek hair sat neatly, Ron always says he loved the bush she normally carried but this was her day. The embroidered bodice shone in the midday sunshine whilst her long skirt twirled as she swayed imagining all that was to come. An involuntary smile sprang to her face.
But Hermione was not one to be complacent. Taking a deep breath she reached for her bouquet which was unusually filled with daisies. Mrs Granger had been quite dismayed. First of all her only daughter was marrying a wizard at the tender age of 21 but insisted on having mere daisies in her bouquet. But as Mrs Granger knew only too well, her daughter was not a force to be reckoned with. She said the daisies reminded her of the slopping greens of Hogwarts and it would act as her something new, having just filled the post of Arithmacy professor. And that was that.
Still by herself Hermione was rolling back her shoulders ready to face all their family and friends when Ginny, still scurrying about, entered in a burst of children's cries, glass breaking and lavender scent.
"Everything's fine," she said with a pained smile.
"What's wrong?!" Hermione replied as her nerves began to return.
"Why would you think something was wrong?" Ginny tried, in vain, to joke.
"You only say everything is fine when there's a problem."
Ginny saw a Bride-zilla rearing it's paranoid head and she settled for the truth. If there were facts behind her news, Hermione would have a moment of calm before it all set in.
"OK. Well there's a tiny wheeny itsi bitsi problem."
Ginny took the reserved silence and crossing of arms as a sign to continue.
"Well. the thing is. Ron must have gone for a walk and hasn't come back yet." The last bit came out in a hurry.
"Oh," was all the response she got.
"I'm sure we'll find him! Probably got lost, you know that brother of mine!"
Silence.
"Do you. er." Ginny started.
"No, just find him. so I can wring his neck." The last part was laughed through, genuinely which made Ginny jump to the conclusion that it was a form of manic confusion laughing. So she lingered reaching behind her for the door handle.
Hermione suddenly turned serious and her eyes met Ginny's. Emotions poured out, of sadness, of regret, of relief, of bravery but also of joy and happiness.
"Really Ginny, I'm fine just here."
"OK. Well if you're sure." and Ginny, thinking it was best, left the room.
Hermione looked over at the grand mahogany dresser where only hours before a multitude of female relatives had fussed over her. She walked beside it and ran her finger along the polished surface, remembering how they had scrimped and saved to hire out the grand country house where she now stood. It had previously belonged to a distant Uncle of hers, their something old. Now it was only her something old.
She had continued to walk around the room and had now reached the bed where her abandoned bouquet lay. Stroking the deep navy blue sheet, she thought that Ron would be a bit more eager to run up the aisle if he saw the grand bed. She couldn't help but smile and then she laughed out loud. Despite the normal severity of the situation she continued to chuckle and knew what only her and her alone could and would do.
She disapparated with a small 'pop'.
***
The sun was still high in the sky as a suited Ron wandered amongst the garden of a stately country house somewhere in Wiltshire. Looking around him he knew why she liked it. It was neat, and ordered, and sensible. Everything he wasn't.
Sighing, he sat down on a clean iron bench. The last thing he wanted to do was look up at the large house, its inviting ivy covered windows, lavender scent, kind nature, full bodied laugh. He had turned to the white slate building and already all he could think of was Hermione.
He loved her and that would always be the problem. He couldn't help but love her. God knows he had tried to and had inadvertently, with the help of a burning wax candle, a box of canary creams and Amanda Hobbs from the year above, found of her feelings. Which complicated matters somewhat.
In all honesty he couldn't quite pinpoint the moment when he decided to leave. It was nothing that anyone had said or done. It had just occurred and he did it. Never one to think things through he now didn't know what to do. What would Hermione do? There she was again.
He pondered why he found himself outside. He knew she loved him but couldn't think about what had happened between Harry and Ginny in their seventh year. Having finally accepted fate and, shall we say, 'got together' it was good for a while, really good. But a combination of Ginny's free spirit and Harry's dedication to saving the world once in while had meant they had not spoken in three years. And Ron could not face the prospect of hurting Hermione and never talking to her again. It would be too much. Maybe she would forgive him for leaving the wedding and be friends, which was better than nothing. And on top of that, he just didn't feel he was good enough for the girl who had graduated top of her class as Head girl with the highest results ever recorded.
So engrossed in his thoughts, it did not disturb him when a young women in a pretty white dress sat next to him. In fact it felt so totally natural that she would be there.
"I'm glad you went with the blue tie," she merely commented never looking at him but instead at the bold hills that surrounded them.
"Yeah, Mum said it looked better than the Chudley Cannons one." He replied, too looking at the horizon.
"Well, I did tell you, your dad said you could borrow that one ages ago."
"Yeah, but I can't always let you get your own way."
To anyone who had been watching, they would have thought they were a couple of friends enjoying the view. Just dress a little too formally.
Ron knew they had to talk and he thought she would be angry and upset and would probably hit him quite hard on the shoulder but he enjoyed just being in her company talking about nothing in particular. It had been during one of these unimportant conversations he had realised he loved her.
"Weather's nice. No sign of rain, just like those wedder men said."
"Mmm, it is nice. The weather man said last night there might be fog."
"Yeah I heard that too."
Then in unison they said, "NorthEasterly; fine with Fog patches."
Hermione was the first to laugh and their gaze met as both beamed.
"You listened to the shipping forecast?" Hermione asked in amazement and wonder.
"Yeah," Ron replied sheepily not diverting his eyes from her face. "Ever since you got me that gigital radio, it's become a bit of a habit."
"Oh. I couldn't sleep very well last night so, you know, just listened in."
"I didn't know that the great Hermione Granger got nervous!"
"You're one to talk, and a bit less of the Granger please."
Both their eyes returned to the picturesque landscape but their hands were entwined. Hermione began.
"I was nervous, a couple of weeks ago, about this but then I realised something. There was only one person in the whole world that I wanted to confide in. That would make me feel better, well actually make me feel silly and then tease me. Then I'd have to hit him on the shoulder and then he would make me feel better. And so I knew that this was right," she said gesturing to the white gown and grand surroundings.
"And this," she said squeezing his hand tightly. Both their gazes still lay on the fern covered countryside.
She had done it again. Made him realise that it was worth the trepidation of making her cry and the fear of making her scream. He knew it could be bad; they could shout and yell, grumble and moan, sulk and rage. It could be so bad.
But then it could be so good, so very good. She didn't need an apology, sweet heart felt words or even recognition of her presence. He was just Ron and that was just fine.
Together they sat up and began to walk up the gravel path to the ceremony and the rest of their lives.
"Nice dress by the way."
And there was the punch on the shoulder.
Fin!