AN: Why have I decided to continue this fluffy one-shot? Call it what you will – inspiration … procrastination … distraction. Whatever it is, I hope you enjoy

Ron was exhausted. Bill and Fleur's wedding had been taxing, he remembered, and that was with the added hubbub of a whole slew of death eaters to crash the party. This – this was downright ridiculous. Pictures before the ceremony, ("I want one of the boys all getting ready – one with just the brothers … one with Harry as best man with Ron … Oh, get one with Teddy now.") pictures during the ceremony, pictures after the ceremony, ("Girls only … now boys only … not all together … both grandparents … one at a time … just the bride and groom..")

He supposed that it was lucky that they had chosen today of all days to snap a million photos. Today, after all, just happened to be the one day that he could not stop smiling.

Each time he was tempted to mention the pinching stab that was currently shooting through his toes, or the fact that he could hardly breathe due to how tight the collar of his dress robes were, Hermione's hand would squeeze his or she would beam at him and he would be struck again (really struck, like stampeded by a herd of hypogriffs struck) by how impossibly lucky he had gotten.

"Hermione, what's just around the corner there?"

"What? Where? I don't see anything."

Ron tugged his irresistible wife (Merlin, would he ever stop smiling like a duffer when he thought that?) behind him.

"It's right here – something like a gnome? It's scuttling around there somewhere."

"Ron, honestly, you need to point, I can't see anythmm…"

She pulled away after a bit, smiling and pink cheeked. "That is troublesome," she murmured, sliding her hands around his neck and placing a light kiss on his jaw. He tugged her further behind the Burrow, the arm around her waist lifting her almost off of her feet.

"Mm … Ron?"

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley?" The words were sweet and satisfying to say, and by the way Hermione smiled, he thought that she agreed.

"I love you. And cocktail hour ends in–"

Ron's mouth was on hers again. "When we want it to. It ends when we want it to."

He kissed his way down her throat.

"But the announcement of th – the wedding par… party, they …" her eyes fluttered closed.

"We are the wedding party, love." His fingers inched toward her hair. Instantly, she pulled away, stricken.

"What? What is it?"

"You have no idea what Audrey would do to me if you destroyed this!" she gestured to her head. Ron, holding in a snigger, moved as if to prod at it again, but she was just as fierce.

"No, no!" she slapped at his hand, then grabbed it, holding it in her own. "Let's go and let them start dinner."

"I reckon cocktail hour's still got another few minutes…"

His fingers trailed around her waist.

"No, Ron." Her voice was stern, but her eyes were sparkling.

They met up behind the wedding tent where they waited for Charlie, the host for the night, to get everyone's attention.

"Before all of the chairs and the drinks disappear to be replaced with the more subdued, boring dinner tables, I'd like to present to you the littlest brother I've got, today the luckiest bloke on the planet, and my beautiful new sister, his bride, Mr. and Mrs. Ron and Hermione Weasley!"

There was a great rush of cheering and not a few cat calls as Ron, arm in arm with Hermione, rounded the tent. Charlie, seizing a nearby glass of champagne, continued, "If I could take the chance to make the first toast of the evening – to my baby brother and his lovely bride – to the truest love I've ever seen."

Ron kissed the top of Hermione's head thinking that his brother had it right.

They took their place at the newly conjured, beautifully decorated head table, along with both of their parents and Harry and Ginny, the best man and maid of honor. It may have been his wedding, but this close to both dinner and Hermione, Ron could hardly focus on anything Charlie was saying.

Headed by Kreacher, the meal had been made by several of the Hogwarts house elves – only the ones that were willing to take payment, of course. It was delicious, but for the first time in his memory, Ron didn't care.

Instead, Ron was concentrating on deftly maneuvering Hermione's shoes off of her feet with his own. She didn't acknowledge his efforts, simply continued her first course in smiling silence.

"I can't get enough of this place," her father was telling her from her other side. Meanwhile, her foot slid slowly up his leg. He felt warm.

"Me neither," Hermione was agreeing, and Ron was amazed at how level a tone she maintained.

"It must be wonderful to live here always," Henry continued, directing this comment at Ron now.

Ron, still flushed, could only nod for fear of his voice squeaking.

"Henry, your welcome speech," Hermione's mother was nudging her husband now.

"Oh … oh yes!" He stood up, clinking his glass to get everyone's attention. Ron grinned fondly to see how flustered he suddenly was looking out at a tent full of wizards.

"Welcome, all of you. My name is Henry Granger, Hermione's father, and this is my wife, Jean. Some of you I know, some of you I don't, but I do know that you have all stood by Hermione and Ron and have been there, in many cases, when we have not been able to.

"Thank you for humoring us with a more 'muggle' formatted ceremony – it has seemed the perfect blend of two worlds, something that the joining of these two has done.

"Nine years ago, we took the biggest risk, the craziest leap of faith that we could have imagined and surrendered our only child to some place called Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. We never could have done it if it weren't for the light in her eyes that told us that, even then, that she had found home.

"We cannot tell you how grateful and blessed we feel to have watched as she was welcomed by that world – her world – and this family – her family." He grinned at Molly and Arthur, who beamed back, Molly quite tearfully.

"You can imagine my hesitance, then, when the first true friends Hermione wrote to be about were boys," he continued. "However, as the years went by and Hermione continued writing, thinking she was so clever as she gave us the barest amount of terrifying detail that we could only speculate about, there was one common theme."

His eyes welled up and Ron slid his hand over Hermione's knowing that this would start her off too if she wasn't already.

"Ron – and of course Harry – were always there. Even through some of your silly trysts," Ron felt his ears reddening, "Hermione knew that when Ron was around, she was safe. She believed that, and so did we."

He turned to Ron, now. "There is no one alive that will ever be good enough for my daughter. But no one alive comes closer than you. I couldn't have given her away to anybody else."

Ron nodded, feeling tears pricking the back of his own eyes. Hermione's tears were coming quite steadily now as she beamed between the two of them.

"Don't ever forget how fiercely you protected each other in hard times when good times come around. I love you both. Thank you."

The crowd erupted into cheers and applause, and Hermione threw her arms around her father, kissing him soundly on the cheek.

As the main course was served, Ginny and Harry both gave their speeches.

Ginny's was all teasing, something Ron preferred. "It must be true what they say, 'Good things come to those who wait,' because my brother waited ages and now he's got the best girl I've ever known."

Harry's, short and sweet, was enough to make Hermione cry again. "I've never known two people more loyal, kind, intelligent, smart, brave, talented and completely hard headed about their own feelings for each other. I couldn't imagine a happier day than being here to watch them finally sort it out once and for all. To my two best friends in the world –" he raised his glass, "and to the growing of my family. Because that's who you are – my family."

Ron wiggled his eyebrows at Ginny to see how she felt about Harry calling them "his family," and she only grinned.

"To Ron and Hermione," he finished, and the crowd raised their glasses.

Ron felt the familiar knot of nerves in his stomach that he generally associated with exams and public speaking. This time, he was anxious for the latter. Hermione had no idea that he was planning on giving a speech as well, since it wasn't exactly conventional as far as muggle weddings went, but Charlie was instructed to give him a moment between dessert and the first dance.

"And now, before mum's garden becomes a shining dance floor, the groom would like to say a few words."

Hermione, who had been leaning her head on his shoulder, looked up at him, startled.

He squeezed her hand and then, shaking, stood.

"Blimey, there's a lot of you."

Everyone laughed, and he breathed a small sigh of relief. This couldn't be so bad.

"Nine years ago, I met an eleven-year-old know-it-all on my first trip to Hogwarts," those who knew their story well chuckled. "She was brilliant and, as the year progressed, I found that she was also the truest friend a bloke could imagine … for a girl anyway." More laughter.

"I watched her save me and Harry when we were almost done in by a barmy plant, and I watched when she, as a twelve-year-old, figured out the mystery that not even the teachers were sure of. She fought for the legal rights of a hippogriff and then, the next year, spent hours every day making sure that Harry was prepared for those Triwizard tasks.

"I had always known she was incredible – she amazed me every day – but I had never had a reality check quite like the one that came when I heard she was going to the ball with someone else.

"I'm not sure how long it took me after that, daft as I was, to realize that I had fallen in love with my best friend, but there was no doubting it after she walked out in those dress robes and I thought I had never seen anything prettier in my life.

"The next year, she nearly drove herself into the ground studying for her O.W.L's, but I watched her fight for house elves, round up a secret Defense Against the Dark Arts Club, tend to a baby giant and get me and Harry through our classes while she was at it.

"I've never been more scared than when she is in danger and I've never hurt worse than thinking that I had lose her forever." He cleared his throat, blinking back some ill-timed emotion.

"I've been so daft, and every time she's there anyway. I've loved her all my life and haven't deserved her for a minute of it. I never will deserve you," he turned to her, now, and felt the knot of emotion in his throat working its way up. She was crying too, hand over her mouth. It took a moment before he could continue. "I will never deserve you. But I swear I will die trying."

"I love you too, Ron. So much."

He extended a hand. "Dance with me?"

He guided her over to the dance floor as the band began playing a slow song. Pulling her close, he gazed down into her face and couldn't help but let the tears overflow again.

"Blokes aren't supposed to cry this much at their own weddings," he told her softly, to which she only grinned fondly at him.

"Most brides aren't as lucky as I am, getting to see every moment how much you love me."

He chuckled, sniffling. "I do. This is the happiest I've ever been. Blimey, I can't believe you're really not going to scarper off."

"Never."

She rested her head on his chest and he propped his chin on top of it. He thought about what had led them here – he thought of sixth year and how she'd stayed by his bed the whole time he was in the hospital wing, even after he'd been such a blighter. While they were on the run – he thought of when he'd left, unsure of whether or not he'd ever see her again and feeling like he didn't want to live if she wasn't in his life. He thought of Malfoy Manor – to this day, he had never experienced anything more hellish than the moments of her piercing, drawn out screams.

And until this day, he'd never experienced anything sweeter than the first time she'd kissed him.

He pressed his lips to her forehead, forgetting to be irritated at the sappy turn his emotions were taking. As much as he loved joking and making people laugh, if there was anyone who had always been allowed to see his more sensitive side, it was the woman cradled in his arms at this very moment.

And for so many more.