It's been a while since I've posted anything, let alone the next chapter of my current story. I've been distracted by turmoil at work and a new crafting hobby in my spare time. It's made me think a lot about continuing my writing. I've got lots of plot bunnies, but no drive to work on any of them. We'll see how things go.
The eight-piece string musical group was playing incidental music as the party swung on. Hundreds of people from the Ministry, Hogwarts, and St. Mungo's were in attendance, all laughing and happy, moving between tables to hug old friends, enjoying the time together. Groups formed and broke up and formed again as they met for conversations. The dance floor was not yet crowded as the party had only started an hour or so ago, but the youngest of the attendees were already dancing, primed on pre-party drinks and ready to have fun.
Long swags of gold fabric wreathed the room from the ceiling above, swaying as the throng below caused the air currents to move them. Candles, both floating and fixed, lit the area, and the many fireplaces in the atrium that acted as Floos during the day had been secured so that fires could burn brightly within them, adding to the light. The dining tables were elegant with sparkling crystal, pristine china, and silverware, gleaming in the light. Little place cards sat in front of each plate to denote who was sitting where and tooted to announce the name of that person.
He stood near the back of the room, placed so that he could see when she entered. He had spent the last year getting to know her better, trying to make careful notes of her likes and dislikes. It wasn't easy when they were at school…the war, the priorities, the rules. Afterward, they had made a go of it, but in the end, they realised they really didn't know each other. Hermione was too stubborn and too focussed to give any relationship the commitment it needed.
He clutched a gift in his hand; her favourite flowers, bound together in a beautiful wrist corsage. His sources had only been able to find out that her dress would be dark, so he purchased her corsage with the intention of surreptitiously changing its colour once he saw her dress robes. He had also made sure that his own attire would complement hers by selecting a transfigurable waistcoat.
When he realised that Hermione was the only one he wanted…loved, he began to court her, having read up on the how to's and seeking the advice of friends. He was careful to begin with an easy approach…how about meeting for lunch? Want to go to a film at the weekend? Drinks after work? Hermione was happy to meet with him and talk. He listened carefully when she spoke of her work. He loved that she was laughing and enjoying herself. Things seemed to go so well for them and as much as he wanted to kiss her, to move to another level of his courting, he was careful to not press her. That's what he had done before, and he knew she would end everything forever if she felt pressured again.
For all the care he took to pay attention to Hermione, he hadn't noticed that she had changed along the way. He hadn't noticed that she seemed happier than usual. He hadn't noticed that she did not say 'sure' to invitations for drinks or lunch as much and when she did, he hadn't noticed that she seemed more in a hurry to end those outings. He hadn't noticed that she didn't respond to his owls or Floo calls. If she begged off saying, 'oh, I have this project'—and it was such a Hermione thing to say—it didn't register enough for him to be wary.
A shift in the atmosphere caused him to look up from the flowers in his hand. She was here! He didn't notice she was holding the arm of another person; it was only her he saw.
She was incandescent with happiness. Her glow stopped the room. She was beautiful…beyond beautiful to him. Her hair was long, her curls flowing naturally which only served to establish she was a witch her knew her own mind, trends in fashion be damned. She never wore much make-up, but tonight her eyes sparkled with a hint of glitter at the outer corners, her lashes darkened and full. Her face was flawless, and her lips were glossy and dark.
He moved just a bit so that he could see all of her as she stood in the doorway. Her dress was held up by two wide straps, leaving her neck, shoulders and collarbones exposed. A chain wrapped around her neck and a large emerald hung from it , nestling just at the top of her cleavage. He knew if he were to grasp the emerald, it would be warm from the heat of her body. The dress was dark…could it be red? Purple? Dark blue? From this distance, he couldn't tell, but he did note that it nipped in quite snugly at her slim waist and then fell in elegant folds to the floor. She was a tiny witch, but he knew she would more than likely had pumps on…yes, his mind had searched for the right term for women's shoes…pumps, to give her height.
It was only when he was jostled by a passing house elf that he saw whose arm she was holding. He seethed.
Him.
How could it be him? Were they together? How long had they been together? When had they had time to know each other? How would he even know what her likes and dislikes were?
When the orchestra swung into an obvious love song and the crowd began to applaud the couple as they moved toward the dance floor, it all fell in place. The times she declined meeting for lunch, having work projects at the weekend, not knowing when she would be free to see a film with him.
He didn't want to look, but neither could he look away.
They moved together as one…fluidly, no hesitation, no fumbled steps. They moved as a pair who knew each other intimately…curves that knew where they should fit to the other's body. He knew had he been the one dancing with her, he'd have trod on her toes several times or swung her away from him too hard so that she would have to let go of his hand to catch herself.
He had thought he'd be the one to shine as her hero. He had thought she would see that he was trying and that would mean so much to her. The smile that was supposed to be meant for him was given to him as he twirled Hermione away from him.
The final moment of realisation that everything he had done would never win Hermione back was when she had returned to his arms again. She had placed her left hand upon his shoulder, and the light caught the reflection of a gem on her third finger.
A hand pressed upon his shoulder. "Sorry you had to find out this way."
"I tried so hard, you know? I took the time to know her, to learn what she liked, what she did, to be interested in what she wanted."
"I know."
"I didn't even realise that she had started to see anyone. She always had a good reason for not coming to lunch or to the pub."
"She can be a very private person at times, you know that."
"Did you know about them?"
"Only in the last month or so."
"Did she tell you? She didn't even tell me!"
"I don't think she meant not to tell you. You are her friend; she told me she loved you as a friend and because of that, wanted to tell you herself. I guess in her happiness, time slipped away. I don't think she meant for you to find out this way."
His shoulders slumped. "Yeah, I know. Thanks, Harry. I'll just slip out the back. Don't tell her I saw her. I know she'll tell me soon now that the rest of the world knows."
"Okay. Do you need anything?"
"No. I'll be fine."
He worked his way to a side door and slipped out into the alley. He looked one last time at the corsage and then dropped it to the ground. A few tears splashed onto the container, and Ron sniffed heavily. He pulled his broom out of the inner pocket of his suit jacket and enlarged it with a quick spell. As he flew through the cool night air, toward the setting sun, he wished Hermione all the best in her marriage to Snape.
His only other wish was that he would be the one she was marrying.