Chapter 10

Hermione woke suddenly on the Sunday morning, frowning as she fought the cotton wool feeling of sleep and encouraged her brain to function among the living again. A pair of soft, warm lips were trailing down her neck and a large, calloused hand was sliding up her torso as a familiar lanky body pressed her into the mattress.

She sighed as fingers brushed across her nipple, his thigh pressing against her core as he turned her head to kiss her mouth. He kept things slow, letting her wake up to his attentions as their lips melded with familiar passion.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she didn't protest when he nudged her onto her back, sliding into the cradle of her thighs, never breaking his hold on her lips.

"Good morning," he whispered to her, as he rubbed his erection against her dampening core, causing a shiver to run down her spine.

She smiled up at him in greeting and began to pull his head down to hers again but was interrupted by the bedroom door slamming open. This was followed by a loud gasp.

"Oh, sweet baby Pygmy Puffs. My eyes!" Ginny screeched, her hands flying to cover her face, which was now a perfect match for her hair.

"You'll have more to worry about than just your eyes if you don't close the fucking door!" Ron yelled at his sister, dropping his head onto Hermione's chest with a frustrated sigh.

The youngest Weasley did just that, slamming the door as quickly as she had opened it.

"I'm sorry!" Ginny's muffled cry came from the hallway, "but you need to get up."

Ron grinned down at Hermione, diving in to nuzzle her neck, muttering, "Like hell I do."

Hermione squealed when he nipped at her collar bone playfully, her hands smoothing down his shoulders to rest against the muscles of his lower back, flexing her fingers with pleasure.

He had just recaptured her mouth when Ginny's pleading voice sounded again, "Mum's here."

"Fuck" he swore again, scrambling off of her to fling open the bedroom door, presumably to give his sister a piece of his mind.

"Ron!" Ginny screeched, "Pants!"

"What? Oh," he said, moving his lower half behind the door.

Ginny rolled her eyes before settling them on a spot near the ceiling, "Mum is here to take Hermione wedding dress shopping. I suggest you get out of bed before she comes looking for you herself."

It was Hermione's turn to scramble, "That's today?" she asked, pulling the bedding around her, joining Ron at the door.

"Yes, she sent you an owl last week, don't you remember?" Ginny prompted, pushing away from the bedroom door to saunter back down the hallway toward the kitchen, "You have five minutes, or I'm sending Mum to come and get you up!" she called in parting.

Of course Hermione didn't remember, she hadn't been accepting any owls that week. She'd been too busy feeling sorry for herself after losing her dream job.

"I hope she doesn't expect me to come along," Ron said, moving toward the wardrobe in the corner, uncaring of his nudity.

It was Hermione's turn to roll her eyes at him, "Of course not, your job is to make it to the ceremony on time."

Grabbing her wand, she cast a spell to refresh her body before pulling a plain white bra and matching briefs from one of the drawers in the open wardrobe.

"Yeah, I guess. It's come up so quickly, hasn't it?" He said, pausing in pulling his shirt over his head to watch her clasp her bra up, bending slightly at the waist to adjust her breasts in the cups.

She caught his leering gaze as his words registered.

"Yeah, it has," she replied, turning her back on him, hoping he didn't catch the brief flicker of panic that she couldn't hide at the mention of their impending nuptials. She still hadn't come to terms with just how quickly things were progressing.

She'd been honestly hoping her cold feet would go away, that all her insecurities regarding Ron being 'the ONE' would fade as the months became weeks. Surely the fact that they were now only *6* weeks away from getting married she should be sure that he truly was the only one for her. But that insecurity hadn't gone away, in fact, that twinge in her chest at the mere mention of their wedding day was now a vice like grip around her heart.

She wondered if she wouldn't feel this way if she'd joined the Auror squad like many had expected her too, instead of going into Magical Law. If she'd continued to be around Ron everyday instead of finding them drifting apart with their careers then perhaps she wouldn't be feeling so rushed into marrying him - it would feel like a much more natural progression. Instead, this just felt like they were doing what everyone expected them to do.

She now knew that that had been one of her underlying reasons for entering into such a dangerous relationship with his brothers - they'd drifted apart. He was away all the time, he spent long hours at the office when he was in London and had long stopped inviting her out for after work drinks because she hadn't been there with he and Harry to share in those adventures, and it was obvious that she was feeling left out.

Their drifting apart hadn't been all due to their careers though. Fred and George had shown her how badly she had been craving physical attention. Ron's occasional bursts of affection and moments like this morning were become rarer as their relationship morphed around their busy lifestyles.

Hermione knew now that she was no longer content with quickies in the dark and too brief morning shags before they left to live their separate lives. It begged the question then of what exactly she was getting out of her relationship with Ron that she didn't have when they were just friends.

Everyone was moving around them, when in actual fact nothing had changed between she and Ron in a very long time. It was a rather sobering thought.

Finishing dressing, they made their way to the kitchen together to find Mrs Weasley tapping her foot impatiently on the white tiled floor.

"We're going to be late," she fussed, not bothering with morning pleasantness, just pulling out an ancient pocket watch from her crocheted purse, fiddling with the dials for a moment before pinning Ron with a meaningful look. "I've prepared enough breakfast for you and Harry to join Arthur at home. Run along now, Harry and the little elf have already left and I don't want it going cold."

Ron gave a mock salute, "Yes, Mum," he quipped before kissing the older witch on the cheek. They watched as he threw some floo powder into the low burning embers of the kitchen fireplace, before shouting out the name of the family home and swirling away in a puff of green ash.

Hermione gave a feeble wave at his retreating form, long past expecting a goodbye kiss.

"Stop right there, young lady. You're coming with us," Mrs Weasley told her daughter, who had been creeping toward the fireplace to join her brother for breakfast. "This is an important day for Hermione, and I'm sure she would value another witches opinion."

Hermione shrugged at Ginny when the younger redhead looked at her pleadingly. Dress shopping and Ginny weren't exactly what you would call an ideal match.

"Okay dears, Diagon Alley it is," the matriarch announced with an excited clap of her hands before producing her wand out of her bag and apparating away.

Ginny heaved a sigh, pulling her own wand from her back pocket, "It's going to be a long day."

Hermione couldn't have agreed more.

"I'm just not sure traditional white is going to work for a sunset ceremony," *Madame Malkin* was saying, as she tugged at the enormous layers of the rather extravagant ball gown dress that Mrs Weasley had picked out.

Hermione rotated on the podium in the back room of the shop, sharing a look of horror with Ginny when she caught sight of herself in one of the many mirrors that followed her around the room, commenting on every design she was forced into.

"Like a Princess!" gasped the mirror that kept hovering near her face. Hermione made a shooing motion before scowling at her reflection again.

She looked like an undercooked meringue or perhaps one of those hideous crocheted toilet roll cozy's her grandmother used to gift the family with at Christmas time. Neither image was what she aimed to look like on her wedding day.

"Perhaps we should try something in ivory then," Mrs Weasley was saying, heaving onto her feet with a groan to follow the seamstress into the back rooms.

"Hm, maybe a cream or gold..." came the distant reply as the two women emerged themselves in the latest bridal designs for the up and coming witch.

"Kill me," she squeaked at Ginny, who had jumped to her rescue the moment they were out of earshot.

Ginny sniggered, throwing a bit of the tulle up in the air as she searched for the elusive fastenings that would get Hermione out of the monstrosity of a dress, "Better you than me."

"From what I hear, it won't be that far off for you," Hermione replied with a groan of relief, feeling instantly lighter when Ginny unlatched the lower part of the corset, detaching some of the heavy skirts from the bodice.

"Who told you that?" Ginny asked, ducking her head down, but the telltale red of embarrassment could be seen no matter how much fabric she tried to hide under.

"Harry. He told me what happened. I assume you guys are okay now?"

"Oh, that," Ginny mumbled, "He asked again, I just..."

"Just, what?" Hermione prompted, using her friends shoulders for support as she stepped out of the skirts, awkwardly finding her footing beside the podium. The last thing she needed was a black eye or a bump on the head to go along with the dress.

"I don't know, I just wished he hadn't asked like he had. Now he's expecting an answer and I just feel so pressured."

"Don't you want to marry him?" Hermione asked, reaching behind her to undo the last few hooks on the heavily beaded corset, using the many angled mirrors to help.

"Of course I do. And I'm going to say yes, I just feel like it should have been more... I don't know, romantic," Ginny trailed off, busying herself with getting the heavy skirts back onto the hanger.

Slipping the silk robe back over her underwear Hermione gave her friend a meaningful look over her shoulder, "You know what Harry and Ron are like when it comes to romance, affection is something unfortunately lost on our boys."

"Yeah, I just wished his timing hadn't been so... wrong," Ginny replied.

"But you're going to say yes, right?" Hermione asked, suddenly fearful her future sister in law was going to reject her best friend because he couldn't tell the difference between infatuation and too much fire whiskey.

"Of course I'm going to say yes-"

"Yes to what, dear?" Molly asked, stepping back into the heavily curtained and overly reflective room, her arms full of dresses in varying shades of white, cream and gold.

Ginny shot Hermione a panicked look, swallowed thickly and replied faintly, "Um, to Harry."

Molly Weasley blinked once, her whole body freezing as she stared at her daughter.

"My baby is getting married?" she asked faintly, before dropping her armload to pull Ginny roughly into her arms.

The seamstresses gasp of horror at the treatment of her dresses was quickly masked at the mention of a second sale.

"Mum, please," Ginny pleaded, her voice muffled against her mothers robes, "I haven't even said yes, yet."

Hermione watched with faint amusement as Molly pulled back to beam at her youngest child, "Oh, silly details dear!" she cried, before pulling back to give her whole body a once over, "Yes, I think traditional white may work in your favour."

Ginny blinked at Hermione in my panic, her eyes clearly crying out for help, "Wha... what?" she squeaked.

"Oh yes," Mrs Weasley continued to gush, "We'd best start looking today if we're going to have a double wedding. I can't wait to tell your father!"

"Double wedding?" both Hermione and Ginny cried, but weren't given much more opportunity as the seamstress summoned her assistants from the front and the Weasley matriarch set about organizing the lives of not one bride, but two.

"A double wedding. How romantic!" sighed the mirrors as the zoomed around with glee.

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