Two weeks later, Steve and Mariam's wedding day arrived and the whole castle was abuzz with it. Areas of the building had been sectioned off with red velvet ropes so the Saturday throngs couldn't crash the party and it was exactly the sort of Spring day you would have wished for: French blue sky, the odd, streaky white cloud and a straw-coloured sun that absorbed the chill in the air.

Almost everyone had volunteered to work that day, in case more help was needed. Hermione had also come into the office, ostensibly to receive a valuable delivery but also out of curiosity. Not being required to provide anything towards it, she had remained on the outskirts of the wedding planning, the responsibility of which had mainly resided with Harry and the twins.

In fact, her only input to the whole occasion had been to ask that the guests be reminded that stilettos should not be worn in certain areas of the castle, in case they ruined the floor, and that dried rose petals were preferable to commercial confetti. She shuddered to think of the stains lurid-coloured paper could generate if it got wet.

With the wedding due to begin at one, excitement started levelling up around eleven. Someone bustled past with hat boxes in arm, a woman pushing a trolley covered in flowers stopped to ask for directions to the Pomfrey chamber.

At midday, Ron's face appeared at the door.

"Are you coming to see it then?"

"The wedding? I don't think they'd appreciate us turning up do you? I thought I would catch a glimpse of them at the reception."

"Nonsense," Ron scoffed, "We can sneak in the back when no-one's looking."

Before she could respond, he left, with a 'See you at one' thrown over his shoulder.

Hermione smiled and she found herself still smiling as the clock crept closer to one. At ten minutes to, she stood up.

What the hell. It would be nice to see the little chapel in all its glory.

Just as she moved to shut down her computer, her desk phone rang. Thinking it might be Ron berating her for not being quick enough, she answered it.

Disappointingly, it turned out to be an air-con supplier she had been trying to get hold of for weeks, delighted to find her in office and wanting to discuss the finer details of the system she had been hoping to update.

Wearily, she sat back down and opened her notebook.

OOO

Sometime later, she eased herself through the slightly ajar back door of the church.

"Where have you been?" Ron whispered, sliding up on the pew to give Hermione room to squeeze in. "It's almost over."

She made a face and dropped soundlessly next to him. "Sorry. Got side-tracked."

Ron frowned and shook his head disapprovingly, as if lamenting her priorities, before turning his attention back to the matter at hand.

Once she was seated Hermione was able to admire the chapel. Disused and abandoned for decades, Fred and George had put a huge amount of effort into making it beautiful again. Not only had they overseen the structural work to ensure it was watertight, which involved some daring and unnecessary ventures in a cherry picker, but they had personally restored and oiled the pews on which the guests now sat, as well as cleaned the windows- more cherry picker acrobatics- and hung and varnished new front doors.

They had also taken the voracious ivy that had been wending its way through the building in hand. A few weeks previously, Liz had fallen off a ladder and fractured her ankle, so much of the gardening work was now being undertaken by the twins and Percy when they had time to spare, which was rare. Ron knew there'd be hell to pay when Liz returned.

Delicate peach coloured blooms adorned the end of the pews and the arch leading to the chancel, where the couple stood by the altar. It was as though they were encircled by flowers. Both bride and groom looked giddy with happiness as they repeated their vows and Hermione felt her heart buoy.

She glanced over at Ron, who was absorbed in the ceremony, before leaning into him, gently brushing her hand over his to get his attention.

"Congratulations on this," she said softly when he turned his head, "Really. It's wonderful. You guys did an amazing job."

Ron raised an eyebrow and she was bracing herself for the quip when he did something she wasn't expecting. He reached out and picked up her hand. Giving it a light squeeze he replied, "Well it was mostly Fred and George and Harry. With a little bit of me."

He shrugged. "Although hearing that I'm amazing is welcome. At any time." Hermione rolled her eyes. "No really. Whenever you like."

"Don't expect it too often," she murmured, suddenly warm.

His eyes met hers and he grinned, that cocksure, confident grin of straight, white teeth. "Just as a treat then."

Somewhere, far in the distance it seemed, a young girl started reciting a poem and Hermione's conscious mind struggled to cut through the buzzing that had begun in her ears. When she did tune back in, Ron's attention had switched to the altar and he was still holding her hand, loosely surrounded by his in his lap.

She raised her chin so her head was facing the right way and she was, for all intents and purposes, enjoying the wedding. Her eyes, however, darted furiously to her hand wrapped in Ron's.

Should she pull it away? Was he waiting for her to do that? The pad of her thumb lay heavily against his, her fingers lost in the length of his own. Every point where her flesh made contact with his felt hot and she wondered if he could feel it too.

Her gaze slid to his face; his expression one of peaceable concentration. Most likely he didn't even realise they were still holding hands, which would surely make it awkward when he did finally notice. The sensible thing to do would be to slip her hand out from between his now, while she had the chance. Maybe she could pretend she was coughing. Would he be offended? Surely not if it looked like she was coughing.

For God's sake Hermione, stop!

In the end, as was so often the case with Hermione Granger, her overthinking sold her down the river. In the battle to decide whether or not she should cough, her brain made the decision to retrieve the hand and used her arm to swipe it brusquely back to her side.

Ron flinched. Hermione quickly mustered a splutter, much too loudly, and the sound echoed around the chapel, causing several guests to peer over their shoulders at them.

Thankfully the music started, as if on cue, and the incident was lost to the room Ron included, for he jumped up and hustled them both out of the chapel before they could become embroiled in a wedding guest swarm.

Outside, a black and cream Daimler was parked, festooned with nectarine ribbons. Harry stood next to it, arms folded, anxiously waiting to oversee the transfer of the bridal couple to the orchard for photographs.

Ron raised a hand in greeting and walked towards him but Hermione shrank back. Pleading pressing work matters, she turned and stalked off across the green, the air cool against her hot cheeks. When it came to awkwardness, Hermione Granger considered herself a masterclass and, as she made her way back to the safety of her office, she decided to lock herself in until everyone was gone.

Harry jerked a thumb at Hermione's retreating figure. "Something you said?"

"God knows, mate," Ron replied, running one of the silky ribbons through his fingers, "She's a mystery to me. Ready to go?"

"All set. I keep thinking something's going to go wrong."

"Why's that?"

Harry hugged his arms round himself protectively. "Dunno. Just… pulling this off would be huge for us. It could really generate income you know? We've talked about it for so long- to actually do it… I hope we can."

Ron slapped him on the arm and grinned. "Course we can. We've come this far. And they're married now so that's the hard bit done."

Harry nodded slowly. "Was it nice? The ceremony?"

Ron sketched out the bare bones of the event, including Hermione's weird coughing fit at the end which startled a chapel full of people.

"Did it put you in the mood then?" Harry teased, straightening his tie as Geoffrey gave a nod.

"What for? Marriage? Nope."

And then he paused as the bride and groom stepped into the sunlight, amidst a shower of confetti. Something glittery had been mixed in- which was surely not biodegradable and would definitely incur the wrath of Hermione- but which made it magical somehow. Like they were surrounded by tiny, iridescent stars. It caught in Mariam's loose chignon and frosted Steve's shoulders. The flowers girls danced in swirls of it as it caught in the wind.

Harry watched his friend's face with interest, saying nothing. Ron got enough of it from his family about settling down; certainly his aunt Muriel went on about it ceaselessly. He didn't need to hear it from his best friend too.

Still, out of all of them, Ron had been the one Harry was sure would marry first. He'd come from a loving family, headed by parents who doted on each other and provided a robust template for marital success. He was popular at school, certainly not overlooked by the girls who attended the all-female college next to theirs. He had dated consistently over the years, sometimes a woman from 'the set' as Muriel liked to call the high-born, sometimes just someone he met down the pub. The money and class issue didn't come into it for Ron, he didn't see it as either a recommendation or a censure.

And therein lay the rub. The women from wealthy families, the ones he mingled with at the many events held by clubs and charitable organisations the family was part of, expected a certain type of experience. The promise of an English castle was no doubt attractive to many but the very few he brought to Ottery seemed disappointed with the reality. Not so much Disney towers and streaming banners; more grouting loose tiles at 3am so they were dry for opening.

As for the women he met locally, it seemed to Harry that they didn't understand the commitment that, not just Ron, but all the Weasleys had to undertake to keep Ottery and the legacy alive. He himself had been given a very strong talking to by Arthur Weasley the night before he asked Ginny to marry him.

He would need to step up, Arthur had warned, if he truly wanted to be one of the family. It wasn't all getting decked out in fancy threads and drinking Malbec. There were committee meetings to attend, patrons to schmooze. Not to mention the upkeep of the collections and building and the running of the business. Ottery was for life. You were all in or not at all.

Harry was all in and had been since Ginevra Weasley wore tight blue jeans to her sixteenth birthday party. There was no other way for him. So it saddened him that Ron had been unable to find someone that he felt that way about.

Ron's last serious relationship had ended a year previously. Zara was smart and pretty and worked in accounting and she had proved to be patient and understanding of the draw that Ottery had on Ron. After two years together, the Weasleys as a collective felt it couldn't be long before he made her his wife.

Yet winter melted into spring and there was no Christmas proposal. Ron whisked Zara away to a beautiful boutique hotel owned by a friend for her February birthday but she returned the next day ringless. Various hints were made, some more blunt than others, but Ron brushed them off. When it was right, it was right, was all he ever said.

Apparently, Zara's patience for Ron to feel that it was right ran out because one day in March, Ron announced that she had ended the relationship. The odd thing was, Ron didn't seem that upset. He was at a loose end for a while and made a few jokes about being left on the shelf, but he genuinely seemed to feel that it was for the best, that Zara clearly hadn't been the One.

Mariam and Steve made their way to the car and Harry helped them in, gently depositing her tulle skirts into the foot well. He skipped round and slid into the driver's seat. In the rear-view mirror, he saw Ron wave and, as he put the car into gear and slowly moved off, he wondered just who the One would turn out to be.