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Return To Hogsmeade
Chapter Seven
-dutchtulips-
***
A few days later, only two before the big day, Hermione and Maya were both getting off the Knight Bus in Hogsmeade. As they both hauled their luggage and started up the street, Maya was talking energetically with Hermione.
"See, what have I been telling you from the beginning, Herm? Should have known yourself that you'd be wearing those wedding dress robes while you slowly started up that aisle, Viktor smiling back at you. . ." She sighed. "It's too romantic."
Hermione rolled her eyes, amused. "Maybe so, but -" suddenly her eye caught a sign that was plastered on the side of Gladrags Wizardwear. "Maya, come here and look! It's what was stamped on the bottom of those roses I was telling you about!"
The blond witch rushed alongside her friend as they both got a better look at the poster, which said, The Grand Old Greenhouse, 97 South Poseidon Street, Hogsmeade. Hermione couldn't help but grin. "Come on!" She exclaimed, pulling Maya the opposite way up the street. "I really want to show you this."
***
At last the two of them reached the greenhouse, and quickly Hermione raced up the steps ahead of Maya, but not before she stopped and froze on the stoop, recognizing a very familiar looking Tsunami broomstick propped up just inside the door. Maya caught up her, and brushed in ahead, tugging at the cuff of Hermione's robes. "Come on, let's go inside."
The greenhouse was packed with different magic plants of all kinds, and it was also filled with dozens of witches and wizards, all browsing through the beautiful flowers, herbs, and other plants. Hermione looked feverishly all around for several moments, and then raced to back of the greenhouse which had hundreds of purple roses staring at she and Maya from every direction.
"Wow. . ." Her friend murmured. "These are gorgeous."
Hermione nodded. "Yeah, they are. They can live for decades, even after they been uprooted and cut. You can use the same bouquet to decorate your dining room table forever!"
"I never knew that," Maya replied, reaching over to the nearest pot to touch the beautiful blossoms. As she was doing so, Hermione wandered ahead a little bit, and found Gizmo.
She leaned over and gave him a pat on the head, saying, "Where is he, Gizmo?" Almost immediately, the cat took off like a shot, Hermione following close behind. At last found Ron, on the other side of the aisle, knelt on the floor and pruning a rosebush.
Ron heard her approach and looked up, and then the two of them locked eyes. The redhead stood as she came even closer, whispering, "Oh, Ron. . ."
He smiled, never taking his eyes away from her. "You should have a nice look around, a lot of the flowers look great this time of year."
At that moment, Maya rounded the corner, staring on at Ron and Hermione. He noticed her, and then said to Hermione, "You and your friend might want to go out to the back patio as well. The weather's awfully nice today."
"Yeah, yeah, we sure will," she finally managed to say, and before she could utter anything else, Ron gave her one last smile and disappeared.
***
The next day, the day before the wedding, Portia Krum had arrived in Hogsmeade, and right on the Granger doorstep herself. Charlotte, however, was delighted to be meeting her for the first time, gave her a hearty hug and said, "Mrs. Krum! Oh, it's so wonderful to meet you at last!"
"Yes, yes, you as vell, Mrs. Granger. I am very delighted, too," she replied, though her tone really didn't suggest anything of the sort.
Mrs. Granger however, hadn't noticed. "Oh, never mind that missus. You call me Charlotte, okay?" She smiled cheerily.
Mr. Granger, who'd also rushed out to shake Portia's hand, said curtly, "Charmed meet you, Mrs. Krum."
"Oh, vell, surely, call me Portia," she replied, giving them both a smile.
John grinned at her as the three of them all stepped inside the house and into the living room. "I'll bet you could use a drink, huh, Portia?"
"Yes," she said weakly, "Yes, I most certainly could."
Hermione, who had been watching from the kitchen doorway with Maya, groaned inwardly, "I just know this is going to be a disaster. You know, the sort where only insects survive."
Maya merely shrugged.
***
At last it was the wedding day. In the sweeping lush backyard of the Clarke mansion, everything was set up and ready to go, and almost everyone in Hogsmeade was preparing themselves to be present at a wedding that afternoon.
Everyone, that was, it seemed, except for one Ron Weasley.
Sitting on the front porch of his house, as some vaguely threatening gray clouds began to roll overhead, the redhead hastily shoved some gardening equipment inside of his rucksack. He'd just about finished and taken everything he needed when a sudden dull pop from behind startled him.
"There's a wedding going on in a couple of hours, you know."
Ron swung his chair around, bringing his mother, who had just Apparated in his front yard, into view. "So?" He said sharply, pushing something else inside his bag. "I've got to get out to the hill before the rain starts so I can irrigate those purple roses."
Molly slowly mounted the front steps and approached her youngest son, saying, "Well, for someone who's held onto something for so long, he sure is pretty quick to let it go."
Ron fastened the button on his rucksack, slung it on, and reached for his Tsunami. "You know, Mum, I can't control Hermione anymore than I can prevent tomorrow from happening. She's a big girl, she can make her own decisions." He clambered onto his broom.
"All right, Ron, dear, whatever you say, but -"
"But what, Mum? But what?" The redhead exclaimed, staring over at Mrs. Weasley.
"Just - have your own way, I reckon," she shrugged. "Whatever that is now. I'm not even quite sure that you know."
Ron sighed, ruffling his hair impatiently. He didn't seem to have an answer for that. "Well, Mum, you go to the wedding if you want. I've got things to do."
As he sped off down the road on his Tsunami, Molly merely watched and sighed.
***
Meanwhile, back at Clarke mansion, Hermione was standing in front of the full-length mirror in one of the upstairs bedrooms, watching her mother as she helped her daughter fasten her wedding dress robes. "Feeling a bit nervous, love?" Mrs. Granger commented.
"A little," Hermione replied. "Weren't you at your wedding?"
"Oh," Charlotte started to smile. "I could barely put one foot in front of the next back then. I kept screaming at the preacher inside of my head to just hurry up before John changes his mind." She paused. "I was just crazy for that man, and I still am."
Hermione smiled.
"Though heaven knows I just want to wring his neck from time to time. But -"
" -You still love him," she said softly.
"Stars, yes. I don't know what it would have been like without your father all these years." Mrs. Granger took down Hermione's veil from the vanity and draped the silken white mesh down over her daughter's face, all the while Hermione's thoughts were racing elsewhere.
***
Viktor stood proudly at the altar in the backyard of the Clarke mansion, watching the crowd of guests immersed in quiet conversation as they all awaited the wedding march to begin. Some musicians in the corner were playing on a lute and a couple of violins, setting the usual peaceful mood of a wedding. But at last the light music ceased and they started the wedding march, bringing every one in the yard to full attention.
Hermione, her bouquet in one hand and holding onto her father's arm with the other, started nervously down the aisle, where she could see Viktor beaming at her from the altar. At last feeling somewhat calmer, that something had at last gone right, she continued with Mr. Granger up the aisle, but halfway there, a sudden voice stopped her in her tracks.
"Miss Clarke! Miss Clarke!"
Hermione turned around, as did almost everyone of the guests, trying to locate the owner of the voice. At last she did, recognizing the person as none other than Emma O'Sullivan, Head of the Dissolution of Matrimony Office at the Ministry of Magic. She was running up the aisle, headed straight for Hermione.
"Miss Clarke, I've got to speak with you!" She exclaimed, at last reaching the bride, waving some parchment in the air.
In a whisper, Hermione said, "Miss O'Sullivan, he signed the papers. What are you doing here?"
"He did," Emma agreed, nodding. "But - you didn't."
Viktor suddenly appeared at Hermione's shoulder. "Herm-own-ninny, I vought that you had taken care uff vis."
"It's an honest mistake!" She assured him, and then looked all around in a frenzy. "Has anyone got a quill?"
There was a commotion in the crowd as everyone appeared to be checking their pockets for the requested writing utensil. Viktor turned and looked towards his mother, but she merely rolled her eyes, saying sarcastically, "Oh, uff course, Viktor. Can we please just get on with this before we all get soaked?" She gestured up at the dark cloudy sky.
At last Molly Weasley was in front of Hermione, holding a worn quill out towards her. "These things don't just happen by accident, you know," she whispered to her daughter-in-law.
Hermione peered at her for a moment, and then took the quill and lowered it to the parchment to sign her name. Hesitating, she glanced up at Viktor, who was smiling encouragingly, and then looked back down at the paper, placing the tip to the line. But at last her nerves overtook her, and she put down the quill, looking over at Viktor.
"Oh, Viktor," she began. "You don't want to marry me."
He looked at her strangely. "I don't?"
"No, you don't." Hermione replied, her voice breaking up. "You see, I gave my entire heart away a long time ago, and the truth is, I never really got it back." She paused. "I'm sorry, I just can't marry you. And you shouldn't want to marry me either."
The solemn look Viktor had on his face suddenly changed, and he smiled sadly. "Do not be sorry for the vorkings of your own heart, Herm-own-ninny. It is all right."
Mrs. Krum, anger flashing in her eyes, was immediately at her son's side. "So vhat is it?" She demanded. "You are just going to let her embarrass you like vhat?!"
He nodded slowly. "Yes. Yes, I think I vill." Viktor reached over and took Hermione's hand, kissing it. "Vell, if you vill excuse me," and he slipped through the throng of guests and disappeared inside the manor.
Portia, who had watched her son go, suddenly turned back to Hermione. "In all uff my life, never haff I met someone so deceitful! You haff humiliated my Viktor! Go after him, you little spitfire!"
Mrs. Granger stepped in just then. "Hey there, there's no need for that!" She exclaimed, her anger rising. "She's spoken her peace, and that's all there is to it!"
Mrs. Krum turned angrily back to Charlotte, snapping, "Oh, vhy do you not clam up, you stupid Muggle?"
And as Hermione had done once before, nearly twelve years ago to Draco Malfoy, reared her fist backwards and landed an uppercut to Mrs. Krum's jaw. "Don't you dare insult my mother like that!" She shouted as the dark-haired Bulgarian woman slumped over to the ground.
Excited pandemonium erupted from the crowd, and the next second hundreds of raindrops plunked down upon the backyard, getting everyone completely drenched. Hermione felt giddy as she ran along with them, kicking off her Mary Janes and yanking the veil from her head as she caught Harry, Fred, George, Neville, Ginny, and Angelina in the throng. "Everyone who's friends of the bride, stick around!" She grinned. "I'm going to go fetch myself a husband!"
***
Hiking up Allegheny Hill in the pouring rain was no easy chore, but Hermione in her clinging and soaked wedding dress robes somehow managed. The wet grass felt refreshing on her bare feet as she raced through the vast garden and after Ron, where she could see him, his back turned to her, leaning over the purple rosebushes and getting them underneath an overhang so they wouldn't risk the possibility of getting flooded out.
"Hey, Weasley!" She called out to him. "You owe me a dance."
Abruptly he straightened, turning slowly around to look at her. "Where's your husband?" He asked lightly.
"I'm looking at him!" Hermione grinned. "Apparently you and I are still married."
A smile slowly spread across Ron's face. "Is that so?"
"Yeah."
Shoving his pruning shears into his rucksack, he slung the bag on and started down the hill. "What is it about you British witches?" He asked. "Can't go with the right thing after you've tried all the wrong ones first?"
Hermione chased after him. "Well, at least I go after what I want!"
Ron turned back around. "Well, what do you want, 'Mione? I'm not sure that you know!" He shouted over the rain, and then started back down the hill again.
"Fine! Be that way, you great big prat!" She shouted after him.
Ron dropped his shoulders and looked back at her once more, saying, "Bloody hell, why d'you want to married to me for, anyhow?"
Hermione grinned so hard she thought she'd bust. Ron returned it with his ever-famous lopsided beam as she ambled over towards him, slipping her arms around his neck. "So that I can kiss you anytime I want." And she leaned in towards him and covered his mouth with hers as they both shared a deeply passionate kiss while the cool rain teemed all around them.
They stood together in their warm embrace, lips fused together, for several minutes, until a new voice broke through the rain.
"Hey! What're you two doing, trying to drown yourselves?"
Ron and Hermione broke apart suddenly, startled by the voice. As Hermione glanced down across to the street, she saw Harry, there, grinning.
The redhead laughed. "Well then, what seems to be the problem there, Mr. Auror?"
"Well, from what I hear, it seems that Hermione there's run out on a perfectly good cake!"
***
From inside the Three Broomsticks, among the party guests, Fred and George were wheeling in the tall wedding cake just as Harry came in from the rainstorm, calling out to everyone, "Hey everyone, guess who's finally made it to their reception! Mr. and Mrs. Ron Weasley!"
Everyone cheered and clapped, Ginny, Angelina, Neville, and the twins the loudest, as a rain-soaked Ron and Hermione walked into the tavern and joined in on the cheers. Through the throng of people, the redhead pulled his wife gently to the middle of the bar, saying as he grinned down at her, "Well, I do believe I owe this woman a dance."
Another burst of cheering broke out and, as Mrs. Weasley stepped over to the W.W.N. jukebox, Hermione smiled and said, "Hey Molly?"
She looked up, smiling back at her daughter-in-law, "Yes, dear?"
"Make it a slow one."
Mrs. Weasley grinned as she pressed a button on the large radio, and as a sappy romantic tune filled the air, Hermione leaned into Ron once more, their mouths mingling together in a sweet and loving kiss.
***
el fin