The night before Ronald Weasley's wedding was likely more of a fanfare than anyone would have expected, least of all him. His brothers all showed up in full force, even though there were children from several of them by now, and his father passed out bottles of Firewhiskey as though it were water. George drank more than anyone, saying that he had to drink for two now – he patted his stomach as though he were pregnant and made a joke of it, but they still all raised their glasses in a moment of silence. His mother and Ginny were with Hermione, although Ginny sent a note warning him to take a shot for her – girls' nights were something that his sister would likely never be good with.
Harry sat by his side the whole night through, joining in on the joking and teasing, even slipping in half a story or two that made Arthur blanche slightly but that Molly never would have forgiven had she heard what they were up to during their years at Hogwarts. Ron didn't even mind the fact that he was the result of ribbing for most of the evening. He was get married in the morning to Hermione Granger –
"I mean, he was the reason she was even in the bathroom," Harry said. "What would you have done if that troll had ate her, Ron?"
"Trolls don't eat people," Ron said, while George nearly fell over.
"We're just proud our Ron is getting married at all." Bill ruffled his hair. "At this point, even Ginny will be married before Charlie is."
They all tried very hard not to look at Harry but, luckily, Charlie cleared his throat.
"Married to the work, Bill. Besides, what am I supposed to do if my wife got eaten by a dragon?"
"Well, presumably someone with a high enough IQ to marry you would know not to be eaten by a dragon," Percy said with his usual pompous air but he was askew on the couch, using George for more support than he was his own spine.
George just waved his hand dismissively. "Marry a dragon, Charlie, problem solved. You get to be married to the work and you've got a wife to get Mum off your back."
Arthur, in particular, seemed to find this hilarious, although Ron would reckon that his father had one to many glasses of drink.
Percy started putting them to bed not long after midnight, citing that wedding preparations would start very early and they would thank him tomorrow. George, who was one of the last to go, muttered, "have I ever thanked him?"
Harry and Ron laughed. Percy hadn't bothered either of them, leaving them sprawled across the couch cushions. Percy's steps went upward for the last time and they knew they would be alone, even once they decided to go to bed themselves. The Weasley men had the run of The Burrow tonight – Hermione's friends and bridal party joining her at her parents' house, likely overwhelming the unsuspecting muggles. Ron faced Harry, who just shook his head.
"What is it?" Ron asked.
"Almost can't believe it and, yet, I don't think I could believe anything else either." Harry grinned cheekily. "You and Hermione."
"Should have let her be eaten by the troll," Ron muttered and Harry laughed. "Of course, who else would have married me?"
"You'd've found someone else," Harry reasoned. "Would I have liked her as well? I dunno."
Ron finished off his last Firewhiskey, eyeing the bottle his brothers and father had left behind; it was half full and a very tempting sight.
"Should we have one more drink, Harry?"
"Actually, hold on, Ron, I've got you something."
"You didn't have to –" Ron began to protest but Harry was gone, going up to where he had left his bag. Ron was left alone for only a moment or two, but he eyed the bottle of Firewhiskey the whole time, thinking to himself that one more drink was what a man on his last single night deserved, though, he was looking forward to not being a single man any longer. Hermione had made it clear for too long that if he were to love her, he would support the fact that she had dreams beyond that of being a married housewife. Ron didn't think he could keep Hermione in the house, even if he had wanted to, and he didn't want to. He loved watching her as she studied the law, as she tucked her wand into her curly hair to hold it all up, her quill scribbling along a page as yet another new idea occurred to her … Finally, he had said to her, I don't want a housewife, but I love you, and you can be the Minister of Magic and my wife. She had kissed him, told him to get a ring, and returned to her books. Ron had said bloody hell to himself but had gone to get a ring.
The look on Hermione's face when he had told her she'd had dirt on her nose and then made a ring appear in his fingers – a deceptive muggle magic trick taught to him by George – was on his mind when Harry hurried down the stairs once more.
"Ron –"
"You really don't have to, Harry."
Harry Potter was his best friend, what else could Ron need?
"No," Harry said firmly, sitting in front of him, "I do."
Harry put a bottle of aged Ogden's Old Firewhiskey on the table in front of Ron.
"I was looking through my parents vault – not just the money, but everything the old Potters had thought to put away."
Ron nodded. He knew all of this, though, for once, he had not been included. Ginny was, though. Harry had taken pity, given Ron was practically planning a wedding on his own, given Hermione's schedule, and had only sent him periodic updates of interesting finds, occasionally showing up to Ron's new home when he had found something that had made him emotional.
"I also found this." Harry set a silver goblet on the table next to the whiskey. "According to everything I found, Sirius gave this to my parents on their wedding day. A proper wedding gift, to toast their new life."
Ron picked up the goblet and then glanced at his friend. "Harry, I can't take this."
"My parents' best friend gave this to them, it's only right I give it to you. I know you and Hermione started when you made fun of her on the train –" Ron gave out a small noise from the back of his throat – "but I want you to have a good beginning to married life. I couldn't have made it without you two and I want to give you everything I can."
Harry stared at the floor and Ron stared at the goblet. It wasn't anything particularly special – no gems or jewels, particular charms that he could sense, or anything noteworthy about it other than it being a well-made, pretty, silver goblet – but Ron never wanted to put it down.
"Thanks, Harry."
Harry smiled, though he was still looking to the fire. "I figure, as best man, I need to outdo everyone."
Ron thought, without any bitterness, that he was Harry Potter and there was no need to even try to outdo anyone.
"Who else would be my best man?"
Harry finally glanced at him, green eyes bright, but Ron knew they were both remembering their early years, so long ago, on the Hogwarts Express, or entrapped in Devil's Snare. How little and how much they had known then.
"Should we try this Ogden's?" Harry offered. "I also found it in the vault."
Ron finally inspected the bottle, which had paled in comparison of the cup.
"Harry! This whiskey is from 1925! This might be one of the first Ogden's!"
"So?" Harry said, shrugging, as though this importance meant nothing to him and, not for the first time in his life, Ron wanted to roll his eyes over the muggle heritage that bombarded Harry and Hermione in their daily lives. "My best mate deserves the best."
Maybe it wasn't muggle ignorance, Ron considered, looking at the bottle and blinking rapidly. Harry knew what he was doing and he had decided that Ron was worthy enough.
"A drink for the two of us."
"Don't you want it in the goblet?" Harry asked.
"I will take my first drink as a married man from it," Ron vowed, "but, I don't want to jinx it for them."
Ron and Harry smiled at one another, before clinking their chipped mugs from The Burrow Cupboard together, and Ron sipped at their aged Firewhiskey. Wizards his age might have older Whiskeys, better whiskeys, but, Ron was sure, they had never shared it with a mate like the one that he had, sitting on the couch across from him.
"Happy marriage, Ron," Harry said, raising his glass once more. "May you and Hermione find happiness and no more trolls."
"You've been bringing that up enough," Ron said, "is that part of your speech?"
Harry laughed, a little too loudly in Ron's opinion. "You'll find out tomorrow."
Yes, Ron supposed he would, but, for now, he was enjoying a priceless Firewhiskey on his cozy couch with his best mate. Between the present and the rapidly occurring future, Ron knew he could ask for no more.
So, I'm on a roll. Maybe this will become a reoccurring series. I just have a deep appreciation for how the friendships in the books were written and the older I get, the more I appreciate how Ron and Harry loved one another and just how amazing that all is.
~TLL~
(still drunk)
