Chapter Eight – The Reluctant Bridesmaid

The night had wound down and, despite its rather atrocious beginning and its dramatic middle, it ended pleasantly. Ron had to admit he understood how someone like Iris could captivate someone like Hermione. Iris was like Hermione in many ways: well read, articulate, and intelligent. And she had a love of books that Ron considered nearly obscene or as obscene as Hermione's. He briefly wondered if Iris kept a veritable library under her pillow as well, or if he stroked the spines with the same odd look on her face.

But it was in the ways they differed that Ron saw the allure. Iris was beautiful and stylish, very feminine, and Hermione seemed to enjoy exploring that part of herself. She never really had the chance before—winning a war left so little time for other things. While he always thought Hermione was the most beautiful girl he had ever known, he understood that girls saw themselves, and each other, differently. Hermione was never one to spend hours fixing her hair or coloring her face or buying trendy clothes, but that didn't mean that she didn't want to, only that she had had too much else to deal with. Too many other things mattered more to her.

Things were different now. The war was a distant memory; it was the stuff of history texts and bedtime stories. They were older now with lives to live, lives that were normal, or nearly as normal as they could be. With a wedding pending a female perspective was just what Hermione needed. Iris had this way of making anyone she talked to seem like they were the only person on earth, and Ron figured that Hermione needed that at this point in her life. She had always done things for others and it was time to do things for herself.

It wasn't a perfect relationship, he admitted. Iris seemed to have more influence over Hermione than he felt comfortable with. And he wasn't pleased with how much time they spent together but Ron wanted to see Hermione happy. If Iris could make this wedding everything Hermione wanted, then he would step back and give them the room to do it.

There was something else on his mind, however. He was bothered by the fact that Iris had Malfoy blood running through her veins. It was difficult for him to believe anything good about anyone who was even remotely related to a Malfoy; a thousand years of inbreeding was a dangerous thing. But Iris was, for lack of a better word, delightful, and he really had no right to cast aspersions on her when the truth of it was he simply missed the old, the familiar, Hermione.

He was fortunate in that Hermione seemed to have forgiven his earlier discretions and there wasn't nearly as much talking as he feared that night. Sadly, she hadn't completely forgotten because there was little else.

The next morning, Ron was awakened at an ungodly hour by the pecking of an owl at his window. Hermione was out, helping Ginny pick furniture--dinette sets or some other such nonsense. He had hoped to have a long and well-deserved lie-in. Instead, a jittery owl was trying to break through his window. Ron cursed his best friend for being a lazy, no-good sod and not being with his girlfriend to pick the furniture for their home. His finance, Hermione, could be in bed with him, and she could be the one to go the window and shut that effing bird up.

It should be said here that Ron was not much of a morning person.

He groggily got out of bed and lumbered over to the window. He retrieved the message and slammed the window shut. The owl, who was not pleased to be so roughly treated, pecked at the window again and flicked his wing at Ron. Ron, who could barely read the small writing on the note, couldn't have cared less that a bird just told him to stuff it.

As his eyes began to focus, the neat and looping handwriting became clearer and clearer:

Ron,

Please meet me at Mugwump's Café in one hour. I have something very important to discuss with you. Please don't tell Hermione.

Iris

Aha! Ron thought triumphantly. Here it comes.

He knew she couldn't be trusted, the manipulating harpy. He knew it all along. She didn't fool him for one second. Not one. She was tainted by Malfoy blood and now she was going to show her true colors.

Ron's blood began to boil. If this trollop was going to try to do anything that might hurt Hermione he'd……he'd… he'd do something really mean back. Ron was still very sleepy and far too tired to think of something truly heinous. Luckily, he was about to go and get an invigorating cup of coffee; coffee was always a good prelude to plotting malicious revenge.

Ron wore black to the café as it seemed like a menacing color and he looked rather good it in which always helped. Disarm the harlot with his boyish good looks and then plot his plot (look, it's still early and he still didn't have his morning coffee).

Iris was seated at a corner table, sipping a latte, reading the Daily Prophet, and turning the heads of everyone in the room. Ron quietly strode over to the table, his back straight and his shoulders squared. "Iris," he said plainly, standing tall and asserting his man-ness.

"Ron, thank you for coming. Have a seat." With a gentle toss of her hair, the shimmering tresses fell perfectly around her face. Ron was surer than ever of her innate evilness – no normal human can look that good this early in the morning. She had to have a pact with a demon for those kinds of results.

"I will," he said firmly, waited for twenty seconds and then sat, so as to show her he was his own boss and would sit when he was good and ready.

"Black is a great color on you," she said with an appraising smile. "You're going to look so handsome in your wedding dress robes.

"Yes," he said, his former revolve ebbing slightly. Plying him with compliments and smiling like that. Oh, she was good.

"Let me get the waiter." She lifted her forefinger in the air and in under three seconds two waiters, a busboy, and a man from a neighboring table ran to their side. "My friend would like a cup of…coffee?" she said, looking inquiringly at Ron.

"Yes, with cream and sugar, please." He mentally slapped himself for not having a more manly 'just black' coffee and for being polite while answering her. Focus, Ron. Focus.

"Yes, the Sumatra blend, please," Iris added with a wink to one of the waiters. "Any why not bring us a few muffins and coffee rolls, and one of those lovely lemon squares."

She was plying his with cakes. Ron narrowed his eyes. She was very good. He must remain strong for Hermione, even in the face of pastry.

"Ron, I'm so glad you came," she said once the crowd around the table had cleared. "I really need your help with something."

"My…help?" He leaned in; this was where her evil Malfoy-ness would reveal itself. He hoped the coffee would come quickly as he needed it for his plotting.

Iris gave a nervous smile, which he might have said was rather endearing had he not known she was actually a cold, calculating Malfoy-blood carrying harpy in chic clothing.

"I want to give Hermione a bridal shower and I need your help in planning it."

"A bridal shower?" It was more hideous than he could have ever imagined. She was planning on dousing Hermione with soapy water. Ron restrained himself from picturing Hermione and Iris in a shower, soaping each other up.

"It's a Muggle-thing. Prior to the wedding, the bride is given a special party where her family and friends buy her gifts for the home and such."

"Oh." Oddly, he was disappointed. The dousing thing sounded like more fun. He would file the image of Hermione and Iris in a shower, soaping each other up for use later that evening.

"It's a very lovely tradition, really, and I'd like to throw one for Hermione but I can't do it alone."

Oh, hell no. "It sounds like a girly thing, why not ask Ginny?"

Iris smiled that nervous smile again. "I had thought of that and I would like her help later on, but Hermione told me of Ginny's own wedding debacle after that horrid Colin fellow called off their wedding and, well, I thought it might be hard for her to do something like this. I mean, I wouldn't want to bring up bad memories for the poor girl, not as she's trying to begin her new life with Harry."

Ron felt like a heel. "I suppose you're right. What about Terry? He may technically be a male, but he can accessorize."

"I'm sure he'd be wonderful but I need someone closer to Hermione in order to get all those personal touches that make these things special. Besides, I think Hermione would love to know that you helped in planning something like this. I'm sure she'd show her appreciation in many ways."

"Appreciation?" Ron liked the sound of that.

"Of course. Can't you picture how she would feel, knowing you went through all this trouble for her? I can only imagine how she could show her gratitude."

Ron once again thought of Hermione and Iris in a shower, soaping each other up.

"A girl gets married only once, Ron," Iris continued. "Don't you want to make this special for her?"

"Of course."

"And don't you think that Hermione would want to show you how special it made her feel? She'd be reminded of your efforts every time she dried off in one of the new towels she got as a gift, or when she made dinner and used her new appliances, or drank from one of her new glasses."

"She would like it, wouldn't she?" he said with a wistful smile.

"Ron," she whispered as she leaned in. "One of the most popular gifts at bridal showers is lingerie."

Sold! "I'll do it. I mean…anything for Hermione, right."

"Of course," Iris said with a smile. "Anything for Hermione."

"What do I have to do?"

"There's a lot to do I'm afraid. We have to find a location for the party, make arrangements, guest lists. The real problem is keeping everything a surprise. We don't want Hermione to find out."

"We don't? But how would she show her gratitude?"

"It has to be a surprise," Iris insisted. "It's the best part of the whole thing. She doesn't expect anything at all so she'll be that much more surprised. You can't tell her what you're up to or else it will be ruined."

"So I have to lie to her?" Ron asked, suddenly not so sure about this idea, despite the promise of lingerie.

"It's not lying, Ron. Not when we're doing something so marvelous for her. Don't you want to see the look on her face when she sees everything we've been up to?"

"She'll be really happy, won't she?" he said as his coffee finally arrived along with a small platter full of the most delicious pastries Ron had ever seen. "And surprises are always more fun, right?"

"Surprises are the best, Ron," Iris said with a small grin. "She'll never know what hit her."