Hermione opened her eyes on Christmas morning to find it snowing thickly outside Ginny's window and she grinned. There was nothing more exciting and quieting at the same time as witnessing a white Christmas. Hermione rather thought it came from wishing so hard for snow on Christmas Day as a child, before she had spent any winters in Scotland at Hogwarts being inundated with flurries for most of December.
Hermione lay still and listened to see if anyone else in the house was awake. She could hear Mrs. Weasley downstairs, so surely there would be more people up already; it wasn't the crack of dawn.
"...where treetops glisten, and children listen..." crooned Celestina Warbeck from downstairs and Hermione quirked a smile. A muggle Christmas song on the Wizarding Wireless. A quick glance at Ginny found her friend's bed empty, and Hermione's smile fell a little. Ginny usually woke Hermione up if she happened to sleep later than the small redhead.
Hermione sat up and gazed at the small pile of gifts at the end of her bed and grinned. She wondered if everyone had already been awake long enough to open the gifts she had gotten them. Ginny's bed had bits of wrapping on it, so she supposed she had slept through her present ripping earlier.
Hermione brushed her hair back into a messy braid and sat up, crossing her legs and pulling her gifts closer. She opened the one from Molly and Arthur first and found a new mittens, scarf and toque set that Mrs. Weasley had cable knit for her. The hat had a large shaggy tassel on top and Hermione laughed, pulling it on. Ginny had gotten her a lovely stationary set with her initials printed at the top the surprise had been to see H.J.W. instead of H.J.G. in a simple calligraphic monogram. Harry and Ron had obviously conferred with Ginny and given her a joint gift of a leather folio, stamped with her future initials in monogram form as well. The two gifts went hand in and Hermione quickly placed the paper pad and matching envelopes and notebook in the leather case. The leather colour matched the briefcase that Molly, Arthur, McGonagall, Remus and Tonks had given her for her birthday that she had yet to use consistently. Hermione had a sneaking suspicion that the initials that had been stamps on the case were magically going to reflect her new name in the days to come. Making a mental note to use her fancy new professional items in the new year, Hermione moved on. Remus had sent her two books, as was their tradition; the first, a new book to do with werewolf behaviour for she had once expressed her innate curiosity in his 'condition' over summer holidays and he had passed on any reputable information made public since, and the second a newly released muggle young adult novel he must have found particularly interesting. Fred had stocked her up with Daydream Charms with instructions to use them at Hogwarts when the stress started to get too much again.
She had saved George's for last, not really knowing what to expect. It was a box, sort of flat, like a box you might have new clothing packaged in, and square. And heavy, Hermione noted as she tried to move it closer to her.
There was a note on it, just a little slip of paper tucked under the ribbon he had tried to tie around the package nicely.
'Let me explain...' was all it said and Hermione hesitantly tore the paper off and flipped up the lid of the box. Laying cushioned on soft material was a polished silver pensieve about the size of a large dinner plate and Hermione gasped. Around the edges were engraved runes that Hermione immediately understood the purpose of; they were words lending truth and clarifying properties to the memories you chose to keep in the pensieve, helping protect them against tampering, degradation and deterioration.
And it must have cost a small fortune. Pensieves were powerful magical objects that many knew only by name; they were not owned by a large portion of the magical world. One wouldn't be extremely likely to find a pensieve in even half of any magical houses they visited or even a third.
This one was new, by the looks of it, and beautifully crafted.
George had truly outdone himself, and Hermione sat very still on her cot thinking.
How did one thank another for a gift so magnificent?
Hermione shook her head and vanished all the wrappings and ribbons before pulling on fuzzy socks over her leggings and a long sweater on to keep her warm. She stepped lightly out onto the landing and crossed into the bathroom, needing the facilities urgently. Stepping down into the kitchen, she found that not only was she the last person to rise but everyone was outside in the snow. Shockingly, it was nearly midday.
She didn't remember being that tired when she had gone to bed the night before.
By the time she had made herself a cup of tea and settled cross-legged on a kitchen chair, she could hear boots stomping along the back porch and soon the ground floor was flooded with Weasleys in winter gear covered in patches of snow and noses as red as their hair.
"Hermione!"
"Good morning! Sort of."
"Happy Christmas, my girl!"
"You're awake!"
"Finally! Thought you'd died -"
"Ron! Let her be!"
"Happy Christmas, love," George was the last to make his way through to her and she grinned at him after receiving many a festive embrace with plenty of 'thank you's exchanged as they ambled back in to have lunch. Hermione's heart thumped heavily in her chest at the sight of him, recalling their exchange in the yard the night before. The heaviness that had been plaguing her over keeping her feelings to herself was gone and it had been replaced by untampable elation.
"Happy Christmas to you too!" she leaned in close. "A pensieve? You'd better start explaining; that's quite a large gift to justify, Weasley."
"Ah, you see, Granger," he rubbed his cold nose and surveyed his family members and their non-interest in their conversation, "I thought since you don't know when you'll have your parents back for sure, you might want a place to keep your memories so that you don't ever feel like they're fading or you're forgetting them at all. You'd always have them, crystal clear," he smiled down at her and gave her a small squeeze. "Also, I guessed it might be easier to organize certain things to do with your book, but it was mainly the parents thing."
"George, it's really very very lovely of you. You do realize that it's an extremely extravagant gift, right?" Hermione raised her eyebrows.
"I do, yes," he nodded with a grin. "But I felt it was an extremely fitting one, considering what I just said. Speaking of fitting presents, thank you," he changed the subject slightly. "I'd been trying to justify paying the outrageous number of galleons to go to that game for weeks, since they went on sale. And of course, Fred is ecstatic, as the git assumes I'll be taking him with me and not you."
Hermione had bought George two tickets to the much-coveted Puddlemere-Kenmare match, the winner of which would face off against the Ballycastle-Pride of Portree victor sometime in March. All in all, she had heard both matches were extremely anxiously anticipated, and had thought it would be just the sort of thing he wouldn't buy himself.
"Well, you should take him," she nodded. "And not me. You know I'm not a Quidditch person. I got them so that you could take Fred or Lee or whoever. I'm a terrible Quidditch companion; just ask Ron or Ginny," Hermione laughed lightly.
"Lunch!" there was a call and the Weasleys, who had largely removed their winter gear by that point, began shuffling around the table to sit.
"Did you get enough sleep, Hermione?" Molly asked lightly.
"I should think so. I'm surprised no one woke me up, to be honest, intentionally or otherwise," she sent a perplexed look to Ginny.
"I didn't try to be quiet, honest. You were just out," she laughed.
"Well, you obviously needed it," Alyssa spoke to her quietly, and gave her a small smile. The girl had been with Charlie for years in Romania were they both worked, and Hermione had only seen her on a handful of occasions, all of which seemed rather ill-timed. The Weasleys were a loud bunch, and Alyssa was quite quiet; Charlie spoke enough for both of them, she had said once to Hermione with a tinkling laugh, so soft it had sounded like a wind chime from a distance. Since he had been staying in England with her for the last little bit Hermione had seen more of her and they had had a chance to speak on more than once at a time that didn't involve trying to be heard over the rest of the group. Hermione found she quite liked the girl; she was talkative in her own way once you got her going on a subject she was knowledgeable about, and Hermione had found she had quite a large array of interests.
Leftovers from the night before were passed around and easy conversation floated between people around the table. The couples had started to set dates for the weddings awhile ago but with the impending nuptials of George and herself, it had started to become more of a reality for them as opposed to a far off occasion. While they were busy talking about dates and numbers of invites, Ginny was needling Hermione into going shoe shopping the next day.
"But Hermione," Ginny reasoned, "it'll be Boxing Day and we'll find some for a bargain."
"But Ginny," Hermione used the same tone, "I hate shopping on a normal day. How do you think I'd fare on a day where everyone is going mad and the crowds are ridiculous?"
"We should go," Ginny nodded her head. "We're going."
Hermione sighed.
"Are you going to protest to wearing heels?" Ginny asked, taking a large bite of her turkey smothered in gravy.
"Yes," Hermione answered simply, doing the same.
After an afternoon filled with Christmas carols, snowball fights, snowmen, snow angels, hot chocolate and a late dinner, Hermione felt herself dozing off against George on the sofa, basking in the warmth of him and the crackling fire. The Burrow was quiet; most of the occupants who had stayed for Christmas Eve had gone home. It was just Ginny and Harry, George and Hermione and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley left. Everyone else had left to visit their other half's family for the holidays.
"How are you tired?" he laughed quietly.
"Shush, I'm sleeping," she muttered, eyes still closed.
"Honestly, you slept all morning," she felt him flip a page of the book he had been indulging in as she lounged against him comfortably.
"And I'm going to sleep all night, and it will be glorious," Hermione mumbled tiredly against him.
"You don't even need more egg nog to knock you out," he laughed and rubbed soothing circles on her arm, lulling her into a light sleep. Eventually she made it back upstairs to bed with Ginny, who was promising her that the next day wouldn't be too horrible.
Ginny was mostly right. They got an early start and dashed into a few shoe shops before finding something that both Ginny and Hermione agreed on. Hermione had decided against white shoes, so the two of them found a pair of modest heels that could be magicked to match the blue of choice. Hermione was happy with that and they left relatively unscathed.
"Do you know how you want to do your hair?" Ginny asked over hot chocolate at a cafe a little later.
"I'm fairly clueless about these sorts of things," Hermione shook her head. "You know this. Any ideas?"
"Well, because of the neckline of the dress, I'd say up. I can figure something out for you though," Ginny reassured Hermione and the girls speculated about the other weddings to come.
"What about Fred and Angelina?" Hermione laughed lightly. "You think you'll go mad and have a crazy wedding with no white in sight?"
"Well, since she's already pregnant..." Ginny grinned. "But even if she wasn't, they aren't exactly the sort of couple to go with tradition, are they?"
"No, I don't think so," Hermione agreed, "since they've already bought a house and moved in."
"How's the flat now?" Ginny inquired.
"Fine. Looks a little empty because Fred took a few things with him, but it's alright for George, since I don't stay there too often," Hermione answered. "He redid Fred's room for me with workspace and a spare bed in case I want to get away from Hogwarts for a bit."
"Like you use the spare bed when you stay," Ginny laughed loudly. "I can't believe Ron ambled into that at the dinner table on Christmas Eve. He is so thick sometimes."
"To be fair, it's not as if we told him not to mention the fact that I've been there all week above the shop or that he caught us kissing weeks ago. To be honest, I'm just glad he hasn't taken anything badly," Hermione continued.
"What do you mean?" Ginny tilted her head.
"Well, even though we decided to just stay friends after the Battle, he used to give me these longing looks. You know, with lots of drama, for Ron anyway," Hermione mentioned. "But thankfully, he stopped when all this started going down. I was just afraid that it might crop back up again. I don't need the hassle, frankly."
"Oh, yeah, I know what you mean," Ginny nodded in understanding. "We don't need the melodrama or the tension it would cause."
"Yes, I need the tension between George and Ron like I need a hole in the head," Hermione laughed.
"Why would you need a hole in your head?" Ginny laughed at her muggle-ism, but understood all the same. The two finished up their errands and returned to the Burrow.
George was still out at Hogwarts; he had volunteered to speak to the house-elves about what they thought would be appropriate fare for a New Year's Day wedding while the girls were busy with girly things. He had informed her that the suits were all done, so all in all, they had everything done.
In the days leading up to New Year's Eve, Hermione felt herself growing more and more nervous underneath a self-imposed mask of calm. If she just told herself enough times to cam down, and everything was fine, perhaps it would in turn calm her. So far it wasn't working that well.
Alas, she spent most night tossing and turning, even after going back to the flat with George.
"Do you think that's wise?" Molly had asked Hermione when they had announced they would be leaving in the evening on Boxing Day.
"What do you mean?" Hermione had a small inkling where this was going.
"Well, you're to be married in less than a week. Wouldn't it be better to spend the time apart? Away from temptation, perhaps?" she tiptoed delicately.
Hermione had blushed crimson before responding, feeling the heat catch in her clothes, under her chin and around her ears.
"That won't be a problem," she had responded, somewhat deceptively. To Hermione this meant there was no risk of sleeping together for the first time, since they had already bypassed that milestone. To Molly, she knew it meant that Hermione was reassuring her of her modesty and purity. As Molly had turned away with a motherly smile to tend to something else, Hermione had let out a quiet breath of relief. She didn't like deceiving anyone but she would rather not have any riot acts read to her at present. Besides, it wasn't anyone's business but hers and George's, really.
Hermione and George did choose to spend the night before apart and Hermione woke up early on New Year's Day. At first she just lazed in bed, warm and cuddling a purring Crookshanks close under the blankets. As soon as she realized the date, the nerves paralysed her and the nausea rose up.
Today was the day she became Mrs. George Weasley.
Oh boy.
She might be sick.
Yup, definitely going to be sick.
Hermione bypassed her slippers and ran barefoot around the bed and into the bathroom, thanking the house-elves for a clean toilet bowl after she had leaned over and emptied her stomach. Feet and knees now like ice from the cold stone, Hermione pushed the cold away and sunk to the floor by the toilet, trying to take calming breaths and ignore the unpleasant taste of vomit for a moment until she felt stable enough to stand and brush her teeth.
So she was getting married.
Big deal.
A lot of people would be getting married in the next year, or having kids, or both.
Calm down Hermione, she lectured herself. You have a good man with nothing to worry about. Stop being so silly.
"Hermione?" Ginny's voice drifted through the bedroom and into the bathroom to her and Hermione was struck again with the imminentness of the situation. A new wave of nausea overcame her and Ginny walked in to find her best friend hunched over the commode. "Oh, Hermione." She heard the redhead set down some things in the bedroom and join her friend, squatting down to rub her back soothingly. "George wouldn't want you to be so nervous that you're making yourself upset over it," Ginny murmured quietly.
"I know," Hermione moaned, sitting up and flushing. "Urgh." She rose slowly, shakily, and moved to brush her teeth thoroughly with Ginny standing close by in case she had a relapse. She felt marginally better as she rinsed her mouth out after and Ginny made her go back to bed and sit under the covers to warm up again.
"Here," Ginny handed her a large button down she recognized as George's.
"What's this for?" Hermione accepted it and Ginny went back to rummaging through the things she had brought with her. Hermione gave the shirt a sly sniff and was pleased to discover that it smelled faintly of George.
"Put that on over your underwear after you shower and it'll make changing into your dress easier; you won't mess up your hair or your face," he voice was muffled by the rustling. She moved to hang their garment bags over the back of the bathroom door and returned, smile in place. "Feeling better? Want some tea? Have you had any breakfast?"
"Yes, a bit. Yes, just ginger and lemon, please. No, and I don't want any right now," Hermione responded to each question in turn and Ginny nodded, leaving to summon a house-elf for some tea for the both of them. Ginny returned with a tray of tea, hers a strong English breakfast which made Hermione's stomach turn at the smell of it, and a plain hot water with ginger and lemon for her.
"Hopefully that will help settle you," Ginny handed her teacup to her after offering some honey. "Now, say cheese!" Hermione looked up and found Ginny holding a muggle camera.
"Those don't work here," Hermione tipped her head and rolled her eyes.
"This one, and the other ones Harry and I got for you do," she grinned. "We took them to Flitwick and he spent loads of time spelling them to work inside the castle walls. He succeeded, therefore, say cheese."
"But I just got out of bed -"
"Cheese!" Ginny insisted and Hermione gave her a reluctant smile.
"Why did you have Flitwick spell them to work? You could have just used a magical one," Hermione blew the steam off her mug and took a whiff off the ginger, and it instantly had a calming effect on her stomach.
"Well, George was talking to Harry about it, and Harry thought it was a good idea. They both thought that if we use muggle cameras that produce muggle images, you could have some printed up for your parents. For when you get them back. Because you will, and they'll want something they can hang at their house and not scare all their friends away or bring the Ministry down on them," Ginny explained and Hermione teared up. She had not thought of pictures. Or that her parents might want something of their only daughter's wedding that they could not attend for safety reasons.
"Ginny," she said, voice wavering, "that was such a good idea. Thank you!"
"It wasn't mine," Ginny responded, being smothered by Hermione's ponytail as the girl hugged her tightly, shaking with tears.
"All the same," Hermione sniffled and took a deep breath.
"There'll be magical photos too, don't worry. Something for everyone," Ginny continued, setting Hermione back on the bed. Ginny moved around, pulling things from bags and setting up at Hermione's vanity. "Mum's bringing the flowers in a bit. I got them first thing this morning."
"Right," Hermione nodded, in somewhat of a daze.
Hermione Jean Weasley.
Whew.
The day was upon them.
"What time is it?" Hermione asked and Ginny consulted her watch momentarily.
"Just after one."
"Oh my god," Hermione whispered under her breath.
"I know," Ginny laughed. "Three hours to go and you'll be walking down the aisle. Deep breath, there you go," she patted Hermione on the back gently.
Hermione finished her tea slowly, praying the warm liquid would help keep her from throwing up all over the guests that were going to start arriving in less than two hours. Anxiousness burned in her stomach.
"Do you know how the courtyard is coming along?" she asked, trying to sound as though she was not panicking.
"I'm just going to get set up here and then go check but dad and McGonagall were working beside Flitwick pretty quickly when I walked by on the way up," Ginny saw right through her facade and grinned. "Everything will be fine, I promise."
Hermione nodded and rose to shower, feeling a little better. Taking slow breaths the whole way through her time under the hot water, Hermione scrubbed her skin clean and massaged shampoo and conditioner into her hair, rinsing the suds down the drain when she was certain she did not have any linger vomit smell on her anywhere. Drying, Hermione changed into her recently purchased wedding dress undergarments, put her leggings back on and buttoned George's shirt overtop. When she emerged from the steamy bathroom, both Ginny and Molly were there again and Ginny spoke up from the vanity chair.
"Everything's in order downstairs. Flowers are here too," she motioned to her mother who smiled widely at Hermione.
"It's looking quite lovely downstairs, Hermione," she said. "Ginny's told me you're not feeling so well."
"I'm feeling better, honestly," she responded with a small smile and sat back on the bed. "So what so I do now?"
"We get you ready, and then we get us ready. And then you get married," Ginny chirruped happily, jumping up to let Hermione sit in the chair, taking her spot behind her very-nearly-sister-in-law.
"I'm going to go help downstairs, and I'll back to help with the dress shortly," Molly said, and left in a flurry.
Ginny spent a few minutes drying and styling Hermione's hair and went about braiding fro, her front hairline down by her ear and across her nape. Ginny loosened the pieces and tucked the rest of the magically smooth curls into a loose undone bun behind her other ear.
"Since your dress is so elegant, I think a little less polished is the way to go. Yes?" she asked, looking at Hermione in the mirror who nodded.
"Whatever you think looks good," she voiced.
Ginny pulled some holly sprigs from the table and pinned them into the side of the bun.
"I thought these would be festive. And the florist said that holly traditionally represents truth. I thought it was fitting, and the dark red will go nicely with the blue, don't you think?" she showed Hermione the back of her head with a small mirror and Hermione had to agree. "Alright, face." The girls turned her around and spent another few minutes sweeping makeup over Hermione's face, though Ginny knew Hermione did not want to go overboard on it.
In the end, she had been quite pleased with the overall work that Ginny had done and she thanked her best friend as she set herself down to start work on her own hair and face. She settled on a loose French twist and minimal makeup herself. Molly returned shortly and got herself ready while Ginny stepped into her bridesmaid's dress and heels.
Before she knew it, Hermione was standing in her newly blue shoes having her dress lowered over her head carefully by Molly's wand and Ginny was doing a happy jig when her head reappeared at the end.
"It's here it's here, it's heeeeere," she sang. "I'm so excited! Are you excited!?"
"Yes," Hermione laughed at her antics, "I'm am, actually." Her hands were shaking a little from nerves and excitement but thankfully she didn't feel sick anymore. All that was left was a fidgety bubble of elation and she clasped her hands together as Molly's fingers nimbly cinched all the tiny buttons that curved from Hermione's tailbone the short distance to her waist. Molly adjusted the lace of the open back delicately, laying the scalloped edge flat against Hermione's skin.
"Everything comfortable? Not feeling tight in any odd places? See anything that needs an adjustment?" Molly asked, stepping back and surveying her.
"Looks fabulous to me. Hermione?" Ginny looked up from the material to find Hermione staring at her reflection looking quite perplexed.
"I look... great," she responded to the prompt, gazing again at her reflection. "Thank you so much, Molly." She gave the older woman a thankful smile and Ginny hopped off, reappearing momentarily with Hermione's flowers, holding them out to her. They shared a look and a grin, and Hermione took the large bundle in her hand, gazing at the pristine white flowers with the mistletoe, privet berry and pine ringing it. When she looked up, she found Ginny grinning like an idiot and Molly's eyes welling up.
"Oh, my girls," Molly started and then shook her head, pulling Hermione and Ginny in for a gentle hug. "You're both so beautiful! And Hermione - I don't ever think I've seen a bride look so effortless in all my life. That dress really does suit you so very well."
Hermione breathed a flattered laughed under her breath.
"And never in my life have I been called effortlessly beautiful," she giggled, cheeks turning pink.
"Then my son dropped the ball somewhere along the lines," she waggled a finger in Hermione's direction. "Don't let him get away with that in future."
Soon it was time to leave her room for the first time that day and Hermione felt the nausea bubbling under the surface. The whole walk down to the courtyard was spent breathing deeply and slowly. Molly and Ginny could tell she needed a few minutes of quiet and refrained from interrupting her efforts to calm herself down.
Wait.
She was marrying George Weasley.
Marrying. George. Weasley.
What turns had she taken to get here? How did she end up in this place? She had stumbled into George, and she had stumbled into her job.
Hermione stopped dead in her tracks with her mind racing.
What if she didn't really love him? What if she only loved him because she felt subconsciously that she had to, because of everything?
"Hermione?"
"Are you alright?"
"Hermione?"
She looked up at them, paralysed.
"What am I doing?" she asked quietly, and the women stepped back from where they had walked past her when she had halted suddenly.
"You're... you're marrying a man who loves you," Ginny reassured her. "And I'm pretty sure you love him, too."
"Do I really?" Hermione cringed as the thought came out panicked.
"I think that's something only you can answer, dear," Mrs. Weasley laid a hand on her lace-covered shoulder. "But even if you never love him, Hermione, he'll still keep you safe and take care of you. Even if you two only come to an agreement on... well, maybe you always have your own room, maybe you just appease the law, maybe you come out of this ten years from now good friends who helped each other through an impossible situation."
"And maybe you're being stupid," Ginny rolled her eyes and Molly tutted at her daughter. "You love him! You've never looked at Ron the way you look at George and I've never seen you so happy in all the years I've known you!"
Hermione let out a long slow breath.
You're being stupid, Hermione reasoned with herself.
"Are you doing that panicky thing again like you did after he told you he loved you? Because we talked about that," Ginny raised a hand and shook a finger in Hermione's direction.
"Right, we did," Hermione felt herself begin to unfreeze and loosen up again. "No more of this. Not helpful." She shook herself a little.
"Too right," Ginny nodded. Molly had been looking back and forth between the two for the conversation.
"I love him," she stated clearly, more to herself than the other two women. "That might seem crazy, but I do. I do."
"Alright, alright, save it for the alter," Ginny laughed and snorted, somewhat ungracefully, which made Hermione giggle. Before she knew it, the giggle was a full on belly laugh and the three women couldn't look at each other without relapsing into fits. With eyes watering and faces flushed, they finished the walk down to the courtyard.
"Oh boy, what's got you three tittering?" Arthur appeared as they rounded the corner, his grin wide and lopsided as he observed them.
"Oh, Hermione just needed the sense knocked into her and a good laugh," Ginny grinned.
"Mission accomplished," Molly patted Hermione's arm and stepped away. "I'll have one the muggle cameras; Harry showed me how to work it," she held it up and gave it a little wiggle. "Let's have one of you three."
Arthur and Ginny sandwiched Hermione and the three of them posed for Molly happily.
Yes, this was okay. There was no need to panic too much.
Deep breath.
Hermione saw the floating paper lanterns start to flicker with light in the dying daylight as the winter sun quickly began to sink below the horizon beyond the walls of the castle.
"Let's get this show on the road, yeah?" Ginny set off around the other corner of the cloistered walkway and disappeared around it, heels clicking on the worn stone. Hermione gave a slightly nervous smile to Mr. Weasley and he grinned.
"You'll do just fine. George couldn't have picked anyone better than you, Hermione," he offered his arm to her and she took his elbow.
"And just remember, dear," Molly spoke up, "you've been a Weasley for quite awhile now. This isn't really changing much other than your last name, is it?"
The matriarch snapped another quick picture with a mischievous grin as Hermione laughed and nodded, conceding that she was right about that. The number of times that she had found herself staying with the Weasleys over breaks was quite high, she knew. But of course, that was what made them her family now, even before signing a piece of paper tying her to George.
Molly adjusted the holly that peeked out of the button hole of Arthur's indigo suit before pressing a kiss to his cheek, making him smile. She clasped Hermione's hand tightly for a moment before setting off in the opposite direction of Ginny to sit with the guests in the first row. Arthur steered Hermione around after Ginny, the two of them following in her footsteps slowly but evenly.
"Now, I must warn you," Arthur started, "the ground looks like ice, but you won't slip, alright?"
Hermione nodded, curious to see how it had all worked out in the end. She gasped as the setting came into view from the between the cloister pillars.
Pillowy snow had settled thick and pristine over the open grass courtyard and the roofs covering the arcades of the cloisters ringing it; the only places that weren't covered in snow were the aisle Hermione would be walking down momentarily, the ground under the guests' feet and chairs, and the grand tree at the end of the aisle. The chairs sparkled silver in the light of the floating lanterns that hung suspended over the entire courtyard at varying levels, much like the candles that had been known to float in the Great Hall. The sky was nearly black following the quick descent of the sun and the massive tree acting as a backdrop for the ceremony was glittering with refracted light; it was completely covered in crystal icicles.
"Nothing to be nervous about, love. I shan't let you fall," Arthur whispered with enthusiasm and she nodded dumbly. "That's the ticket. Ready?" Hermione nodded again and Arthur motioned for Ginny to start her walk ahead of them. Music Hermione hadn't noticed playing before changed as Ginny stepped out onto the shiny slick aisle and the people in the crowd of invitees took that as a sign to stand with a lot of rustling and shuffling, trying to get a good look at the redhead in the navy dress.
Hermione clutched her bouquet tighter, realizing with a paralysed feeling that it would be her turn to step out there in mere seconds.
She was not one to bask in the spot light.
Oh boy.
"You look beautiful, Hermione. Deep breath now," Arthur's voice permeated her nervousness and she followed his directives. Before she knew it, he was steering them out behind his daughter, who had reached the end of the line, and Hermione raised her eyes to survey all the people that had come to show their support and love for her and George today.
Some teachers and the old members of Dumbledore's Army had shown up in force; amongst the awed faces she searched she found Susan Bones, Terry Boot, Seamus Finnegan, Ernie Macmillan and the Patil twins. With them were the even more familiar pairs of Luna and Dean, Katie and Oliver, Alicia and Lee, and Neville and Hannah. Along with all the Weasley's and their partners, were members of the Order as well. Hermione smiled at them all, elated that so many had shown up. There was a click and a winding sound from nearby and Dennis Creevey appeared from behind a camera with a thumbs up sent in her direction which made her laugh.
Hermione and Arthur drew closer and gasps and sighs could be heard from the crowd and Hermione wondered why until she looked up for George and found him staring in complete awe and reverence at her. She felt his eyes trace the bateau neckline of her dress from collarbone to collarbone and down the long sleeves to her wrists. The gown was fitted to her torso snuggly, showing her relatively slim figure in a flattering way; at the top of her thighs, panels of silk organza had been inset to give her room to move more freely and she pulled the small train behind her, gliding over the icy surface without trouble. Hermione felt her palms grow moist as they drew nearer and nearer, and her heart was beating out of her chest. Harry was sitting in the front row and they grinned at each other, fingers brushing together from a quick reassuring squeeze by Harry's outstretched hand to hers.
George stood before McGonagall with Fred in suits matching the colour of Hermione's bouquet just as Arthur did. He was looking extremely dapper in a slim cut version of his father's attire and by the time they had reached the top of the aisle, he was wearing the most heart-palpitatingly lopsided grin she had ever seen and she could have sworn it made her chest ache. Arthur slowed them and he turned to wrap her in a tight hug, making tears spring to her eyes unexpectedly. When he pulled back he gave her a fatherly grin and packed her cheek before handing her off to George. Her hand fit just right in his as he pulled her up the one step onto the slightly raised platform where he was standing and suddenly Ginny's hand came into view, plucking Hermione's bouquet from her hands so that she could clasp George instead.
"Ladies and gentlemen, witches and wizards," Minerva began, addressing the crowd of people, "we have gathered here today to witness and celebrate the marriage of George Weasley and Hermione Granger."
There was a whooping from the gathering of people all perched on chairs and the Headmistress fixed the culprit with a stare.
"Yes, yes, that's quite enough Mr. Finnegan," she scolded, eyes betraying the humour she found in the situation freely as the crowd laughed and tittered before returning their attention to the front. George gave Hermione a sly wink and she grinned, nerves settling.
Breath in.
George's warm hands.
Breath out.
McGonagall's familiar voice.
"Though they started on this particular path out of necessity on September 1st, I have seen them take leaps and bounds in an effort to be happy with one another and in this I can find no fault. No one in this courtyard is more worthy of happiness than any other and that is true with these two people before you," Minerva paused. "Hermione, any words?"
"You brought me round in the end," Hermione laughed, hands shaking in George's from nervousness and excitement and an overwhelming knowledge of the next few minutes being some of the biggest she might ever have. "I didn't think it was possible to fall in love in three months, but I love you so it must be possible."
George laughed freely and Fred clapped him on the back, and Hermione heard Ginny snort quietly from behind her as the guests murmured along with them.
"Thank Merlin," George said. "Didn't think I'd manage it there for a while; you had me nervous for the first time since my first detention with a certain Transfiguration professor."
"Watch it or she might yet give you another," Hermione stage whispered, cocking her head to the woman at their side officiating before the crowd, which was chuckling again.
"And so," Minerva pursed her lips to keep from smiling, "let us begin. Mr. Weasley?"
Fred stepped forward and pulled from his jacket pocket the black velvet box that Hermione remembered tucking into George's pocket a few weeks ago, the one with the new silver rings in. George pulled the small one free and Fred held out the box for Hermione to pluck George's large one from it before he snapped it closed again and tucked it out of sight.
"George, if you will."
"Hermione," George started, taking a breath to find his words, "with this ring I promise you the same things I promised you on September 1st. A promise not to force things, to get to know you better, and to be honest with you in every way that I can. I can't be sure about when exactly this all started," he paused again, "but I loved you before this, I love you now, and I will love you for as long as I live. I told you I would treasure you, and I will."
Hermione felt the prick of tears again in her eyes and for a moment George swam unclearly before she blinked the wetness away and he slid the slim silver band onto her finger above her engagement ring carefully.
"And Hermione?"
"I never realized -" she started, her voice wavering and gravelly, "I never realized, through the whole time I've known you, that I could be so happy with you if I just stopped to look at you instead of yelling at you about your troublemaking," she admitted and again the group cracked up, many remembering the epic showdowns in the common room between the twins and Hermione over the years they attended together. "And I'd never guessed I'd be spending hours upon hours brewing potions and casting charms to help you with that same troublemaking now, only a few years later," she grinned at the tall ginger in front of her and he returned it, happiness glowing about the pair. "And so with this ring, I promise to never lose sight of what I've finally opened my eyes to."
Hermione held the cool silver ring between her thumb and index finger, sliding it over George's knuckles gently until it settled near the third comfortably.
"George, do you take Hermione as your magically wedded wife?"
"I do," he answered, eyes unwavering from hers.
"And Hermione, do you take George as your magically wedded husband?"
"I do."
"Then without further ado, I pronounce you husband and wife," Minerva announced, raising her wand to shower silver sparks over the pair and Hermione felt the gentle brush of magic settle over her skin, making goosebumps pop up over her arms and legs. "I present to you, Mr. and Mrs. George Weasley!"
There was an uproar from the group, whooping and clapping and calling.
"Can I kiss her now?" George asked McGonagall with a laugh. "I'm going kiss her."
George raised a hand to Hermione's face and leaned in close, slanting his lips over hers so familiarly and strangely at the same time. When his hand snaked around her waist to hold her tightly to him, she heard the volume of the crowd's enthusiasm rise. When George pulled back, he fixed her with an intense look and she loosened her grip around his neck with a grin.
In a whirlwind of congratulations, whoops, yells, backslaps, hugs and tears, Hermione and George found themselves in a changed courtyard. The chairs had vanished and the alter had vanished and instead there was a large icy expanse of dancefloor for them, waiting for them to take it by storm for the first dance.
"May I have this dance?" George held out his hand and his eyes glimmered in the lantern light, making Hermione smile and reach out.
Theirs was a slower first dance, less formal. They swayed under the quiet of the crowd around them and the music drifted to Hermione slowly.
"A hand upon my forehead, the joke and then the laugh..."
Hermione loosely clasped George's hand in one of hers and leaned her cheek to rest against his solid chest beside her other one.
"...waking up in your arms, a place to call my own..."
They didn't speak. They just continued to sway until the song drew to a close and the beat changed, picking up with another song as other people began to make their way onto the dancefloor happily.
"Would this be a good time to cut in?" Harry's voice made them look up and Hermione grinned and nodded. Ginny was nearby and George stepped away and swept her up into a smooth twirl before the two of them made off into the crowd. Harry stepped up to fill the spot George had vacated, somewhat shorted in comparison, and Hermione settled easily against him.
"Do you think this is absolutely mad?" she asked him after a moment of them stepping together in an informal jig to the new music.
"Definitely," Harry nodded solemnly. "But that doesn't make it a bad thing. He's got enough crazy for the both of you and you've got the logical side well and covered, haven't you?"
"Mmm," Hermione agreed quietly.
"Sometimes I think all you can hope for is someone who balances you out, yeah?" Harry mused, eyes drifting over to Ginny and George making their way far more wildly around the room than Harry and Hermione.
George stole her back only to be claimed next by a procession of Weasley brothers.
"I never would have believed it," Ron started, "if you had told me six months ago that you two would be married and happy and... and that you genuinely loved each other."
"I know," Hermione nodded, clasping his shoulder in her hand. "If you had told me that, I'd have laughed myself silly and thought you'd gone bonkers."
"Things change, huh?" Ron looked down at her seriously and she nodded.
"They do," she gave him a small smile. "I hope things with Lavender work out well for you and her, Ron. I really do."
"Thanks, Hermione," he ruffled his hair and spun her out before pulling her back in, much smoother than she had ever thought possible for Ron to do. "Lav's been giving me lessons so I don't make a complete fool of myself at every wedding we go to," he explained at her puzzled look.
Hermione didn't even see George before his twin swept her up in his arms and whisked her away from Ron, grinning madly back at him when he called out after them.
"So," Fred started.
"So," Hermione laughed, trying to keep up with his intense footwork.
"I just wanted you to know that I'm so so happy that you and George are... you and George. Know what I mean?"
"I think?" Hermione furrowed her brow a bit but smiled all the same.
"Well, you just make him so happy. Don't know what it is about you, Granger, but you just..." Fred petered off, waving a hand around them vaguely. "And by the way, fantastic dress. Congratulations; I'm pretty sure you nearly killed him when you walked out. I think he actually stopped breathing for long enough to cause brain damage so good luck dealing with that."
Hermione laughed and blushed and they slowed to a sway.
"Thanks, Fred," she patted his shoulder. "You look very handsome as well. Blue suits you."
"Suits, geddit? Suits!"
"Ha ha," Hermione tittered and shook her head at his cheap pun. Ginny reappeared from the crowd red-faced and beaming before hip checking her brother aside.
"Excuse me, my turn!"
The small redhead took Hermione's hand in hers and spun her away from her new husband's twin quickly.
"Gin!" Hermione laughed and her friend placed Hermione's hands in the appropriate places.
"I'll be the man this time, alright?" she lead Hermione in a simple box step and Hermione shook her head happily. "Everyone's having a great time, Hermione! And no one's listening, they're just laughing at us, so I can freely say now that I need some nieces and nephews and you had better get on that!"
The wedding guests around them were indeed not listening, just watching the two equally short girls try to dance with each other and admittedly managing to look quite graceful.
"It'll be a while yet, I'm afraid," Hermione blushed a deeper crimson at the attention and the conversation topic.
"Hmm," Ginny flashed her a look, "I'm not so sure about that. You did hear the story of Fred and Angelina, right? They weren't even trying."
Hermione laughed it off and suggested they grab a drink from the table laden with champagne flutes. When Harry came to steal a giggling Ginny a while later, George reappeared at Hermione's side, suit jacket having been discarded and a flush high on his cheeks. His white shirt had been rolled up to his forearms and he leaned against the drink table with a happy gleam.
"Do you know what your little sister is advocating for?"
"The little blighter just told me to 'put a baby in there', if that's what you're talking about," George flicked his eyes down to her flat stomach and she laughed.
"The nerve! We've only just got married!"
"Ah, well, can't blame her for it. I'm fairly sure the rest of the family has been egging her on," George shrugged lightly, snagging his own flute and tinking it against the edge of hers in her hand.
"I keep telling her not for a while yet, but she won't let it go," Hermione settled against George's side as they watched the crowd of people bopping and moving to the music happily.
"Ah, well, eventually she will," George mediated.
There was a familiar click from beside them and they both looked over to Dennis Creevey who came closer and gave them both a big smile.
"Hey, Dennis," Hermione greeted him. "I didn't know you'd be taking pictures today."
"Ron asked me to, the magical ones," the fifth year responded, wiggling his camera for emphasis.
"Is that Colin's old camera?" George asked warmly.
"Yeah," Dennis nodded. "I hope that maybe by using it, he gets to see all the pictures I take, wherever he is, and that he knows he helped make people this happy, in the end."
Hermione reached out and hugged the boy.
"He knows," she muttered. "Thank you." She let go after a moment and squeezed Dennis' shoulder before stepping back.
Dennis' older brother Colin had been an avid photographer before his untimely death in the Final Battle, and Dennis had been holding up rather well under the weight of the situation. Their parents were muggles, and it was extremely rare to have more than one magical child be born into a muggle family. They had spent the majority of the last year before the Final Battle in hiding but Colin had come to Hogwarts when the call to arms had been issued after Harry, Ron and Hermione had arrived at the castle on the 1st of May eight months ago, searching madly for the remaining horcruxes.
The partying carried on into the night, people dancing and eating and drinking. Lots of congratulations were given to the new couple and as the end of the night neared, Hermione felt like her cheeks would never settle into a neutral expression again. Surely they would turn to stone in the permanent grin she had on all night. Lots of pictures were taken, friends hugged, and songs belted and before she even realized it, it was time for her and George to leave.
"Congratulations!"
"Good luck!"
"Happy New Year!"
"We'll see you in a week!"
"Have fun!"
Shouts followed them all the way out to the carriage waiting to take them down to the train station so that they could apparate away to the cabin in the woods. As it jerked into motion they were showered with silver stars and sparks and Hermione laughed happily as George held her close. They both laughed uproariously as a glance back at the gathering gave them a view of a blunder by Neville. He had been concentrating on sending the silver sparks high and wide and he managed to trip over his own feet, landing rump-first in the snow outside the Entrance Hall. Hermione and George watched as no less than eight pairs of hands pulled him up and set him right before resuming cheering after the carriage as it disappeared around a bend.
"Stay right there!" George had insisted as the wheels came to a halt, and he jumped out, hurrying around to her door and helping her out.
"I'm fine, George," she protested, smile still in place.
"I know but this is necessary," he bent down and hooked an arm under her knees, swinging her up and cradling her against his chest as she called out in shock. Soon they were standing outside the cabin, the air silent in contrast to the castle where they had just been and Hermione sighed in relief. George took sure steps toward the door and let them in, crossing over the threshold carefully.
"Welcome home!" he called and Hermione looked around the changed room with a grin.
The whole cabin seemed to be blanketed in pillar candles, flickering in the darkness and lighting up the long forgotten corners of the room.
"Did you do all this?" Hermione asked in wonderment as he set her own gently and made to toe off his shoes.
"I did, yeah," George chuckled and walked over to the couch, dropping himself down with a sigh.
"Wow," Hermione breathed, dropping her heels beside his shoes and following after him quietly. The fire crackled in the grate and the cabin was incredibly warm for a winter's night. The silence was exactly what Hermione's brain needed.
The day had been full of excitement and nervousness and happy yelling and celebrating and just to been sitting for a quiet moment with George on the couch, as if nothing had changed in the last day was perfectly suited to the moment.
"So do you feel any different?" he asked, tilting his head to look at her while still resting it on the back of the couch.
"Not yet, no," Hermione responded, "but I think I'm still in shock, to be honest. You?"
"Mmm," George nodded in agreement. "Maybe it'll feel different in the morning."
Hermione tipped herself to the side and laid her head on George's chest, allowing him to rub her bare back slowly. His fingers traced the line of lace from her shoulder down her back to her lower back and up the other side repeatedly as they grew more and more drowsy in the firelight.
"Thank you," Hermione whispered, hoping to catch him still semi-awake.
"Thank you," George returned with a sleepy sigh, and soon their eyes were drifting closed after an incredibly long and trying day full of every emotion under the sun.
When Hermione opened her eyes hours later, it was much darker in the cabin. The fire was down to glowing embers and most of the candles extinguished themselves. George's breathing was even and shallow under her and she shifted delicately, eventually making her way to stand without disturbing him from his slumber. It was must be very early in the morning, for the sky was black outside and the forest around them silent.
Hermione stretched, her legs tired from dancing all night, and reached behind herself to see if she could undo the buttons at her back to get her dress off. Nothing sounded better right now than soft clean pyjamas and falling back to sleep at George's side.
"Here," George's gravelly voice crackled with sleep as his hands stilled hers at her back. "Let me. It's about time this came off anyway, lovely as it is."
Hermione shivered under his tone and his fingertips as she felt them brush up and down her back once more, stopping occasionally to pull a round button free from its loop, exposing her back centimetre by centimetre. For whatever reason, Hermione felt this slow exposition made her far more vulnerable than any other time he had taken her clothing off; more so than falling into the bed upstairs after dumping leaves on her months ago, and more so than bending her over her desk only weeks ago.
George's hands left her and Hermione raised her eyes to his as he moved in front of her, regarding her quietly while loosening his tie and pulling it free of his shirt collar in the dim light. He raised his knuckles and brushed her cheek softly, the coolness of the silver ring there reminding her of the significance of the day once more.
Hermione began to unbutton his white shirt and as she did, George steadied himself with his hands on her shoulders, his fingers wrapping around the fabric that plunged into a deep 'v' at her back.
"You," he peeled the lace down her arms slowly, "are the most dazzling woman I've ever seen. Did you know that?"
Hermione felt her skin heat lazily under his touch and she grinned at him, all the while continuing down his torso to pull his shirt free and push it from his shoulders.
"No," she murmured.
"Hmm," he pondered, a lazy grin spreading on his face as she tugged his belt free of his pant loops and it clunked to the wooden floor hollowly. "I suppose I should explain then."
In contrast to the chaos of the day that seemed to fly by after she had calmed down enough to enjoy it, the moments that passed between George and Hermione were unhurried and deliberate. Clothing was divested slowly, piece by piece and Hermione felt as if George was consuming the sight of her becoming more and more naked to him as he pushed the dress down over her hips and it flumped to the floor at her feet. She tried to keep his pace, so that she wasn't disproportionately bare compared to him and dropped his trousers down as he removed her strapless bra and lowered her softly to the couch again.
"Positively radiant," he mumbled against her skin, kissing feather light from her ear to her collarbone, tracing the line her dress had followed across to the opposite side with his lips.
"Breathtakingly beautiful," he shimmied lower and wrapped an arm under her to hold her still while he kissed down her chest, pausing to squeeze a breast gently before resuming his descent. His hands were skimming her skin from the tips of her fingers to her calves and her breathing was becoming more and more laboured with every compliment he laid upon her.
"Deliciously exquisite," he nosed over the thin fabric covering her from his searching eyes, using his hot palms to push her thighs farther apart.
"Enticingly delectable," was the last one she heard coherently before he hooked a finger to pull her underwear aside and press a delicate kiss to her, opening her up for his viewing pleasure, fingers exposing every inch of her as she squirmed and undulated under his ministrations. She felt rather than heard his moan of satisfaction as the tip of his tongue brushed over her peaked nub and she cried out. He repeated the action over and over, refusing to speed up or lave more of her with the flat of his tongue as he had demonstrated at previous times, paying only the smallest, most frustratingly small wet brush to her in an infuriatingly slow pace. George was on his belly on the sofa before her now, with his arms wrapped over her thighs. On of her legs was against the back of the couch over his shoulder and he held the other one wide for her as she shook under his mouth.
"Do you believe me?" he asked lowly, brushing over her again so lightly and Hermione felt her release near, just behind her pubic bone, waiting for him to touch her again.
"Yes," she whined breathlessly and pushed her hips closer to him desperately. He growled lowly and finally acquiesced, his tongue taking quicker passes over her until the answer she had just given became a mantra. Hermione repeated it over and over, tingling feeling building where his tongue was working against her in the most torturous way until she felt her legs start to shake uncontrollably under George's palms. She was hanging suspended in the brief space where her orgasm lived for a protracted period of time, until all of a sudden it caught up with her and she cried out loudly, voice hoarse.
"Good," George barely let her surface for a breath before clasping her tight and shifting them both, settling her on his lap. Her limbs still felt like noodles and her muscles were still fluttering as eased his way into her, pushing her hips down onto his gently and holding them still when he was fully inside her. His forehead fell against her chest and she clumsily reached to hold herself upright after her rush, struggling to regain control of her body and her movements. She felt him seated inside her, unmoving, both of them enjoying the feeling of stillness with the gentle contractions around him.
Hermione used her arms and legs together to lift herself and slide back down onto him, watching his head tip back and his adams apple waver up and down wordlessly as she did so. George barely raised his hips to hers, basking in the feeling of her slipping up and down him without fuss, her breathy sighs speaking to her sensitivity. As she continued, mesmerized by his wordlessness, gradually his hands and arms wrapped more tightly around her and he raised his head to look at her in the dim flickering light.
"I love you," she opened her mouth an a whim and said what she had been thinking perhaps for the last month, but never in any moment like this had she voiced it to him ever. His hips started to meet hers harder and she laughed elatedly at the feelings creeping back into her.
"Say it again," he groaned into her throat, holding her close. Their skin was sticking together, their torsos pulling against one another as Hermione rose and fell over him at in increasing pace. Hermione could hear his breath grow ragged, raking over the shell of her ear and shivering down her back.
"I love you, George," she breathed in response.
"Fuck," he groaned and a zap of sensation tingled unexpectedly, making her clench tighter around him.
"I love you," she uttered once last time, knowing that this about it for him and she was rewarded with a strangled groan and George's hands bruisingly tight on her hips, ceasing her moving above him completely so that she could feel every erratic thrust he pushed up into her. Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck and held his cheek to her chest as he shook under her violently, breathing heavily as if he had just run a marathon.
"I love you too," he murmured and shifted after a minute or two of trying to find reality again during which time Hermione brushed through his hair with her fingers slowly. "You didn't come again," he stated, observing her through heavily lidded eyes.
"No, but that's alright," she answered.
"Not with me," George pressed a palm to her stomach and made her sit up straight as opposed to against his front as she had been. He clasped her wrists and brought them behind her, placing them on his knees, enabling her to support herself while leaning back. "Not tonight," he continued, wagging a finger at her, ensuring she didn't move from where he had put her.
George dragged his palms down from her shoulders to tease her chest and squeeze her hips, fingers descending to ghost over her mound and probe the space where they remained connected. Hermione watched as he raised a hand and licked his thumb wetly, lowering it back down and settling it over her clitoris, just above where his cock was still sheathed inside her.
"You do want to come again, don't you?" he asked, slowly moving the wet thumb around her, making her shake at the direct contact.
"Yes please," she groaned, tilting her head to the ceiling and leaning back against his knees heavily, candlelight skimming her smooth skin under his watchful eye.
"You're not done?"
"No," she whined, knowing he was going to draw this out as long as possible.
"You know what to say then, I think," he brushed up, making her undulate her hips against his hand, searching for more of anything he would give.
"I love you," she guessed, and was compensated for uttering the words he desired by a more forceful and quickening stroke of his thumb. Hermione gave an unladylike grunt of frustration, her muscles again tightening, this time around him as he remained unmoving and buried inside her.
"I'm going to feel the exact moment, love, so don't be shy now," his lilting voice stoked her desire. "Just keep giving, and you'll get what you want."
"I love you," she groaned and it was followed by a shaky gasp as he again increased his pace, playing hide and seek with her second release.
"Mhm, I can tell," he commented lightly, and she felt his eyes running up and down her body that was stretched out for him and she heaved breathes in and out of her lungs loudly. She could feel the frisson start like a dynamite fuse; he had lit her and the sparking was racing, racing towards his thumb.
"I love you, I love you, I love you," Hermione chanted again, and it was down to the wire and milliseconds and crossing the finish line and explosions as George wrapped an arm under her waist to support her as she finished, tumbling and spinning and screaming and shaking and squeezing and fluttering.
It was as if all her senses shut down and when she came back around, George was holding her close and she was draped over his torso. Without disturbing her once, he had managed to turn and recline back onto the couch, allowing her to lay on top of him heavily and regain her breath. Hermione's eyes were heavy with exhaustion and they drifted closed as she laid against George's chest, which he seemed to have no problem with.
"Lu-yoo," she whispered unintelligibly against his skin, lips refusing to move enough to make all the sounds of the words clear.
"I love you, too," he responded, his voice rumbling in her ear and with that, she was out.
A/N: Whew.
Kindly ignore the fact that the song that plays as they dance didn't exist until 2011, please. (Lifening by Snow Patrol).
Inspiration pictures that I used for Hermione and Ginny's dresses are in my profile, I won't keep them there forever, so have a gander now if you would like to.
We made it, people! Now what happens?
Let me know what you think of things, this chapter and what's to come. Some of you are like mind-readers!
Leave a review!
Cheers!