It was the perfect day for a wedding. Sunny but not too sunny. Warm but not too hot. Birds already singing in the day. It was not so perfect, however, for hangover sufferers.
Hermione, still half asleep and recovering from her impromptu bachelorette party, was stumbling around the apartment, trying to find her phone. It was probably somewhere in the sofa. Luckily, not the fold out one Luna and Ginny were sleeping on. Her left hand felt across the cushions, and seeing the ring, felt a smile cross her face. Then, after seeing her nails, a stab of embarrassment. Her fingernails had been painted all sorts of colours, not always staying on the nail. On the fourth finger seemed to be a picture of what could be Ron, if one had never really seen Ron or if they thought freckles were the size of golf balls.
Oh God, she thought. I forgot I was an artsy drunk.
Her hand dug deeper between the sofa cushions to hide her handiwork. Something plastic grazed her fingers, so she fumbled until it was firmly in her hand. That didn't feel like a phone… Hermione blushed and pushed it further down into the sofa. Once again, she wished Ginny had more appropriate ideas about gift giving.
Aha! There it was. She turned it on to see Ron's face beaming back at her, and in front of that, a text bubble with the message "voicemail (1)". She clicked on it and was almost deafened by what came out.
"HELLO H –hic- HERMIONE" shouted Ron, who had still not quite mastered the concept of a telephone. Nor alcohol, by the sounds of it. "'S ME! YOUR FEYON- FEE- hang on a minute. HEY GUYS, WHASSA WORD FOR SOMEONE WHO'S ABOUT TO DO THE MARRIAGE THING?"
"Feyonce", she said, out of habit. In doing so, she missed what was being said at the other end of the line. It sounded like Fred or George had made a smart arse response.
"TA, GUYS. 'SYOUR BEYONCE HERE. I CALLED YOUR TELLYPHONE BECAUSE I LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOVE YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOU!"
Hermione went red as her cheeks were pushed back by a smile.
Ron paused for breath, and Harry's voice could be heard mentioning something about putting a ring on it.
"ARRY BE QUIET. I'M ON THE PHONE! MERLIN'S BALLS, MAN! YOU'VE BEEN –whassaword?- ROOSTER BLOCKING ME FOR BLOODY YEARS. LEMME TALK TO MA WIFEY FOR ONE BLOODY MINUTE! 'SBAD ENOUGH YA SHACKIN' UP WITH GINNY. 'MIONE, WHEN YOU'RE THROWING THE BOOK-ET, MAKE SURE GINNY DOESN'T CATCH IT ALRIGHT? I DON'T CARE IF SHE'S A CHASER. MAKE IT SNEAKY WILL YA?"
The phone emitted a series of thuds and crackles as there was a bit of a fight over the mobile at the other end. The next voice was Harry's.
"I'm really really sorry, 'Mione. He'ssss a little bit tipsy."
"GIMME BACK THE PHONE" more crackles as Ron tackled Harry from behind and it clattered to the floor.
"MALRIGHT. I'VE GOT IT. YOU MAY BE THE BOY WHO LIVED BUT I'M THE GUY WHO HASSA PHONE. AN… AND I'MMA GUY WHO'S GONNA MARRY HERMIONE. SO THERE!"
What followed sounded a lot like someone sticking their tongue out and blowing. It might also be Ron kissing the picture of Hermione on the phone.
"Ron, stop shagging that Veela!" giggled one of the twins.
"SHU'UP. EAT SLUGS, GEORGE"
"How you gonna do that with no wand?"
"YOU WANT A WAND? I'LL SHOW YOU A WAND!"
There was another crackle as the phone dropped again, but there was another sound; a mix of laughter and shock. Then the phone beeped and the voicemail ended.
Hearing her future husband on the phone went a long way in helping her hangover and her mood. So much so that she was practically singing when she started making breakfast. Halfway through frying the bacon, she heard a high pitched voice call her name.
The voice belonged to the little house elf that she and Ron had rescued from an abusive home. When they had found her, she was bruised and black-eyed, naked and without a name. They'd taken her in and, at Luna's suggestion, gave her the name "Dobbette" and a little baby dress they'd borrowed from Molly Weasley. Since then, she'd been living in Ron and Hermione's apartment, where Hermione had tried to tell her about house elf rights and S.P.E.W. However, Dobbette was still a little stuck in her ways, but she was learning to enjoy her new wardrobe and of course, getting paid.
Hermione looked down at the elf, dressed in her dressed in specially knitted pyjamas and across her shoulders…
"Um, you do know those aren't actually shoulder-pads, right?" Hermione sniggered, gesturing at the bra the elf was wearing on her shoulders.
"My apologies, miss." Dobbette squeaked, removing it and holding it out.
"Please call me Hermione, Dobbette." She tried. "Now you get that back to Ginny and I'll make some breakfast."
"Um…" Dobbette wasn't quite sure what to do now.
Hermione stuttered. "No…" She put a hand up to her breast. It was soft and warm, but it was missing something. "NO!" She snatched it back and hastily hooked it back on. Why, drunk Hermione, why?
She sighed, both at her drunken antics and at the fact that her chest was now confined in a lacy prison and decided to just get on with making breakfast. Almost the instant the bacon was ready, Luna and Ginny appeared in the kitchen with rumbling stomachs.
"What's for breakfast?" asked Luna, while trying to sort out all the blonde hair curls covering her face.
"Smells like bacon to me." Ginny beamed, gripping her knife and fork expectantly. Her hair wasn't causing her any trouble, as it was almost permanently tied back in a pony tail.
"I don't know if it's different for wizards," Hermione began, her voice dripping with sass. "but traditionally, the bridesmaids are supposed to help the bride on her wedding day"
"Traditions are made to be broken" rebuffed Ginny.
"You mean rules are made to be broken" Hermione corrected her.
There was silence.
"Who are you and what have you done with Hermione?" asked Luna.
"Ha ha." Hermione sarcasmed. "Bacon's done. Does one of you want to make the eggs?"
"No thank you"
"It's a good hangover cure"
"I'm on it" Ginny waved her wand and eggs started scrambling themselves in mid air.
Hermione suddenly realised that she'd been using her hands all morning. "Have you girls seen my wand?"
"Yeah," yawned Luna. "We gave it a little polish last night and we put it in that case on the fireplace."
Ah, yes. The fireplace. It wasn't connected to a chimney, as this was, after all, part of a block of flats on the outskirts of the city. There had been quite a long series of negotiations as to where to live. Ron suggested the inner city, as it was easier to get into the ministry office that way, but Hermione insisted on paying the muggle landlord in proper muggle money and not just using a confundus charm, although that proved to be too expensive, so they chose a flat that could only just be considered a part of London. The rent was cheaper, but Ron had insisted on a connection to the Floo Network. Hence the fireplace, (although installing that required, ironically, a confundus charm)
But what was her wand doing in a case on top of it, she asked.
"It's all part of the ceremony, Hermione. You can have it back when you're at the altar." Ginny assured her, pulling the floating egg mush to her mouth and taking a bite. "Bleah. Not done yet."
"I wouldn't worry about it," said Luna. "They've done the same for Ron."
"You're both being remarkably secretive about all this." Hermione said, one eyebrow raised. She'd only been to one wizarding marriage before and she couldn't remember anything to do with the couple's wands. But then again, her memory of it might be overshadowed by the announcement that the ministry had fallen and that death eaters were on their way. She probed them a little more, but they both seemed to enjoy knowing something Hermione didn't for once, although they assured her it was nothing bad.
In all the confusion, she'd entirely forgotten about the bacon, which Dobbette was now serving to Ginny and Luna. She was sure she'd told the elf before that she didn't need to do so much work, but she made sure to thank her for saving her bacon.
And then, stomachs full, the talk turned to the imminent wedding; make up, how to tame Hermione's hair, last minute guests, flowers, evading Daily Prophet paparazzi and the like, but all of that almost went over Hermione's head, because all she could think was that she'd be marrying Ronald Bilius Weasley in fewer than seven hours.