A/N: I kind of like this one.

Words: 767.
Pairings: Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger.
Date Written on: October 3, 2011.

[the wedding]

You're standing in the corner of the room, watching as Viktor talked to Hermione. It's angering you, consider you were the one who was dancing with her. He had no right to waltz right in the door and ask for a dance—to a slow song, no less.

It pissed you off to be honest.

Her lilac dress was framing her perfectly, and that should have been your hands on her waist, not his, and that should have been your joke she was laughing at, not his. Hell, he still couldn't say Hermione right.

Her-my-oh-knee.

The blubbering idiot has known her for how many years and he still can't pronounce her name? It didn't matter that he had an accent and it probably wasn't the easiest thing to say.

You grit your teeth as Ginny walks up next to you, nudging your shoulder. Harry's off talking to Luna's dad, so she had no one to dance with.

"Still jealous?" she asks you causally, grabbing a drink from one of the passing waiters. She takes a long sip before raising her eyebrows. "Hmm?"

You growl at Ginny before playfully pushing her, causing her to run into the table.

"Ow!" she screeches, but laughs when your mum sends you both a heated glare. "What was that for?"

"You deserved it," you laugh as she hits you on the arm. In the corner of your eye, you see Krum kiss Hermione's hand, and she blushes brightly. You're eyes turn to slits.

"Wouldn't be so hung up on him if I were you."

"What are you talking about, Gin?"

"She doesn't fancy him," Ginny states simply, shrugging as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Anger flashes through you for a moment, and you automatically think it's someone else. Harry, Charlie, Ernie Macmillan, Zacharias Smith even. Ginny notices your distress.

"He's a ginger, you idiot."

"That doesn't narrow it down, for your information." You look at her before shaking your hair out of your eyes. "There's Fred, George, Charlie, Percy—damn, there's even Bill, but I don't think she'd ever do that to Fleur, even though she doesn't really like her."

Ginny groans as Hermione starts making her way towards you both, smiling happily. Ginny hugs her before turning to leave, whispering in your ear, "You're such an idiot."

You know that the minute Ginny said "ginger", your heart swelled up in hope. You know you're an idiot, and you know Hermione would be better off liking one of your brothers than you. You hope that she does fancy you, and that all those hugs and kisses on the cheeks weren't platonic. But in your heart, somewhere in there, it's screaming at you: Don't get your hopes up, Ronnie! She's had Krum, McLaggen, probably even Harry pinning after her! What are you compared to them?

"Ron?" Hermione's voice questions as she tries to meet your eyes.

"Hey, Hermione," you stumble out. "Let's dance," you add as an after thought. Another slow song has come on, and you want another dance with her before the wedding ends.

You see her cheeks turn pink, and you feel your face heat up, your ears obviously turning red. It's suddenly very hot in your dress robes, and you're tempted to take the long over-coat that goes along with it off, but your mum would have a heart attack.

Going towards the middle of the dance floor, you take one of her hands and hold it tightly, placing your other hand on her waist. She places the hand you're not holding on your shoulder, near the ends of your hair.

After you dance through one song, you pull her closer, putting both of your hands on her waist as she puts her arm behind your neck, playing with the ends of your hair. She's smiling contently, and you look behind her for a moment, noticing that Krum's glaring at you. It makes you ten times happier—international Quidditch star Viktor Krum was jealous of you, Ronald Weasley, for dancing with Hermione Granger.

The song ended and Hermione pulled away, saying something about going find Harry to check on him. You tell her you're going find more butterbeer, and you head towards the table filled with drinks. Bill's laughing and is about to call you over.

All of a sudden you see a Patronus shoot onto the dance floor. The deep, slow voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt comes out.

"The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming."