Ron and Hermione lay on the bed together, thinking. The moonlight was sweeping into the room. "Ron?" whispered Hermione, as if scared to be heard.
"Yeah?" replied Ron, also in a whisper.
"After the wedding, we can move into our own place." Hermione smiled at the thought of this. Just the previous week, her and Ron had bought a beautiful family home together. It was also in Devon, not too far from the Burrow.
"We can." Ron grabbed Hermione's hand. "And it'll be ours." He smiled, but didn't take his eyes off the ceiling.
"Ron?" Hermione said again.
"Now what?"
"We're getting married in two days." Hermione's stomach was riddled with butterflies - she could barely look at Ron without being nervous.
"I know." Ron squeezed Hermione's hand. "That means we can't see eachother tomorrow."
"Oh, yeah." Hermione's smile grew weaker. "It's bad luck."
"That means this is our last night together," Ron shuffled closer to Hermione. "Without being married, that is."
"I know." Hermione managed to roll onto her side and look at Ron. Her stomach churned with nerves, Hermione felt like she was about to throw up. "I don't feel too well, Ron."
"No?" Ron turned to face Hermione, his stomach was also squirming with his every thought. "Maybe we should call it a night, then."
"Maybe." Hermione smiled, pushing Ron's fringe out of his eyes. She leant forward and kissed his forehead. "Night."
"Night." Ron released Hermione's hand, and pulled the duvet over himself. He turned off the lights and was fast asleep within minutes. Hermione, however, didn't sleep all night. Her stomach was full of butterflies, and it hurt too much to even think about the coming days. She lay on her side all night, trying to sleep. She didn't begin to drift off until dawn, but 5 minutes later she rushed to the bathroom, coughing. Ron woke with a start. "'Mione? Are you okay?" He scrambled out of bed and walked to the bathroom, to find Hermione leaning over the toilet. He rushed over to her and held back her hair. "Are you okay?" He asked, looking at Hermione's pale face.
"Yeah, fine." Hermione wiped her mouth. "Just nerves." She stood up and flushed the toilet.
"Well, go and get some sleep before Ginny and your mum rush you off to some fancy hotel." Ron helped Hermione back into bed, kissing her cheek softly. He climbed into bed next to her, holding her closely for the next hour, before Ginny appeared in her dressing gown.
"Morning," she yawned. "Hermione you need to get up so we can go." Ginny gestured towards the door. Hermione's eyes opened just a crack, and she rolled onto her back. Her stomach hadn't rested yet.
"I'm coming." She dragged herself out of bed and got into some clothes. She didn't eat anything that morning - much to everyone's dislike - but instead went straight outside ready to apparate to the hotel.
For the rest of the day, Hermione lay in her hotel room (which she shared with Ginny), clutching her stomach. She'd speak to Ginny and her mother, but other than that, she never moved. Her stomach hurt so much that she wondered if it was just butterflies, or something else. Hermione rushed to the toilet every half hour or so to be sick. Each time Ginny would say the same thing: "Hermione, are you sure you're okay?" and Hermione would reply with: "Yeah, fine. It's just the nerves." Hermione knew it wasn't just the nerves, but ignored it. The day before her wedding wasn't the time to focus on some kind of stomach bug. That day went slowly. Hermione was so anxious for the next day; she wouldn't even let Ginny practice doing her hair. That day wasn't exactly smooth-sailing for Ron, either. Mrs Weasley was constantly badgering him about his appearance or something, which didn't help Ron's nerves. His stomach was also fluttering desperately, but it never hurt him. For most of the day he'd just sit on his bed with Harry, talking about what married life might be like, discussing how strange women are, and running over the plans for the next day.
Hermione finally felt good enough to sit up. She sat on the bed, staring into the mirror. "Hermione, darling?" Her mother came in behind her. "Come down for dinner."
"I'm not hungry."
"Are you okay, sweetheart? I'm worried about you." Hermione's mother walked over and sat next to Hermione on the bed, stroking her hair.
"I'm fine." Hermione was holding back tears. "It's just-" before she knew it, her eyes had fogged up and she was crying onto her mother's shoulder. "It's just me and Ron argue so much, now. Not a day's gone by since he proposed that we haven't had some kind of disagreement. What if we can't live together? What if we can't raise a family? What if we can't be together because I'm such an idiot?" Hermione sobbed and sobbed, not holding back any second-thoughts.
"Hermione, don't talk like that. You're not an idiot - you're a gorgeous, intelligent girl who is growing up. You'll always have disagreements in relationships, but if you truly love each other then you'll pull through them... like you always do with Ron."
"But what if one day we don't pull through?" Hermione's mother didn't have an answer for this, instead she sat stroking Hermione's hair, kissing her forehead comfortingly.
"Mum?"
"Yes, sweetheart?"
"What if me and Ron don't work out?"
"There shouldn't be a single 'what if', Hermione - stop with those. You will work out. You've known each other for a decade, and there wasn't a single school holiday you wouldn't come home and not bang on about him for days on end."
"But what if?"
"Stop saying 'what if', it'll make things worse. Besides, it's just the nerves talking. Come downstairs and have something to eat with Ginny and me. Hmm?"
"Okay." Hermione blew her nose, and slowly made her way downstairs to her last evening meal as an un-married woman.
Things weren't exactly cheery over at the Burrow, either. Ron sat down with everyone else to eat, but they wouldn't stop talking about how excited they were for the wedding. Ron couldn't get any more nervous... at least that's what he thought. As the evening ticked by, Ron grew more nervous, and paced around his room for what must've been 3 hours. He only went to bed just after ten o'clock because Mrs Weasley wouldn't accept anything else.