I Thee Wed

Chapter 5:

Digging a Deeper Hole

Author's Note: Yes, I realize you all have waited so long you barely remember this story, but I thought I'd try my luck and update anyway. May your Turkey Day be merry and bright.

Disclaimer: I don't own many of the characters in this story. I have created some of them, though, but I doubt anybody out there really wants them. If they want to host this story on their own web page they are free to do so as long as they tell me where it's going. Now, on to the story!

***

Oh, life is a glorious cycle of song,
A medley of extemporanea;
And love is a thing that can never go wrong;
And I am Marie of Roumania.

-Dorothy Parker, Not So Deep as a Well , "Comment"

***

Dylan was staring at Ron as if the latter had six fingers on his hand. The irony rested in the fact that he was only focusing on one of them. Particularly the one with a gleaming gold ring on it, but perhaps that should have been expected.

Noting the trouble that was brewing, Hermione ushered her companions into a small bookshop that they'd been standing by. Because she was friendly with the owner, and not to mention the fact that she was obscenely famous and influential, they were all escorted into the tiny garden behind the shop at her request. Dylan did not protest the change of scenery, nor did he look like he was going to show disinterest in the subject at hand when he recovered from his state of shock. Hermione damned all men for making her life so troublesome.

          "Couldn't we have saved this for another time," Ron whispered to Hermione once they were situated. "Now you've caused a scene!"

Hermione shot him a look of warning. "You'd just better hope nobody else in the street saw that thing, you git! You should be thanking me for actually using my brain. Or don't you have one?"

          "Ouch, Hermione. Just ouch."

It was only after all of this that Dylan recovered from the metaphorical stunning spell that had hit him hard and fast. Usually he didn't care much that people were married (he thought them a bit crazy, actually), but for a while that day he had been a bit…concerned over Ron's relationship with his girlfriend. He hadn't been jealous, of course, just concerned.

Another intriguing concept that plagued Dlyan was that the media had never covered Ron's wedding, which was something that seemed just a tiny bit fishy. Dylan was willing to ignore this, though, as long as it meant Ron wasn't single. Not that he cared if Ron was single, just concerned. "Hermione didn't tell me you were married!" Surprise and a bit of glee were in the man's voice when he finally spoke.

          "Er…she didn't?" Ron said. He had never been that great at improvising.

Hermione, who felt as if she had been holding her breath since Dylan's eyes had caught Ron's ring, came rushing to the rescue. "Of course I did, you've just forgotten. Now, don't you have to be going?"

Dylan ignored Hermione's urgings for him to leave, looking more than a little confused. "Are you sure? I don't remember it in the least."

Hermione nodded avidly. "Perhaps you simply weren't listening to me! I do hate it when you only pretend to hear what I'm saying."

Just as Hermione had known it would, Dylan's face took on a look of recognition. "Oh! Now that you mention it I do remember! Of course I listen to you, 'Mione. What was the lucky girl's name again?"

Just as Hermione hadn't hoped, Dylan wanted to continue asking questions. Ron, still incredibly impressed by Hermione's display of manipulation, just stared at his friend questioningly. "Um…"

          "You don't know?" Dylan asked in an obnoxious tone that only Ron seemed to notice.

Hermione made to interrupt and usher Dylan on his way, but was instead shocked when Ron's replied. "Her name is Marla," he said.

Hermione raised an eyebrow from behind Dylan's back. "Marla?" she mouthed incredulously. In the back of her mind she wondered if this Marla character was an old beau she'd never been told about.

          "Marla March-Weasley," Ron continued, spurred on by Hermione's lack of enthusiasm over his choice of a wife. What right did she have to dictate who he married? The nerve!

The fact that Marla didn't exist did not diminish his annoyance.

"Well then, I have to go down to the pitch. I'll see you later, Hermione."

Hermione scowled at him. "Give Marla my best," she retorted.

          "As always," was all Ron said before he disappeared with a crack.

***

When Ron arrived at the pitch he was not in a good mood. He ended up Apparating into a supply closet, a dark one at that, and it was a good twenty minutes before he was able to actually stumble out into the stadium. From there he stalked onwards to the locker room, but almost tripped over his own feet outside the door. "The damn floor is on a slope!" Ron half-mumbled, half-growled as he regained his footing.

          "Ron!" Oliver called from a nearby bench as soon as the perturbed redhead walked in the door. "I thought you'd died or something, I haven't seen you in hours! I've got some great plays I want to go over, but I need you to come look at these charts. I haven't had a chance to triple-check them yet, but they're going to be brilliant! I want your opinion straight away, though in the end I suppose it doesn't matter—"

          "I'm sure they'll be fine, Oliver," Ron grumbled, oddly calmed by the other man's ramblings. A witch with long black hair tied back in a ponytail that was exiting the women's section of the locker room smiled at him sadly. "He's been going on like this ever since we all got here," she informed him. "I think it's going to be one of those days."

It took a minute for Ron to place the woman. She was the newest member of the team, a 24 year-old Chaser they'd just acquired from the Harpies that had missed their recent tour. "You've pinned Oliver already, Meredith," he said as soon as her name came to him.

She laughed; she had a very nice laugh. It was loud and deep-throated, as if she didn't give a damn who heard. Hermione's laugh was more reserved, as if whatever she was amused with was a secret only between she and whoever had made her laugh. The fact that he knew this did not seem odd to Ron in the least.

          "So, do you always hang around here?" Meredith continued. "I thought it was the captain who dealt with us pawns."

Ron brightened at the mention of something dealing with chess. "That's the way it's usually done. Managers are generally in charge of the boring stuff in quidditch, you know, the grunt work, but I've been a Cannons fanatic since I was a kid. Some teams don't even have them, but when the old manger left he asked me to replace him and keep the position going."

          "Why's that?" Meredith asked boldly.

          "He needed somebody who cared enough to get stuff done. The captain generally only knows his team, so somebody has to be around to keep thing running. Besides, I'm an okay strategist."

          "Are you now? I was thinking they kept you around for your good looks." Her words made the tips of Ron's ear brighten, but this went unnoticed thanks to Oliver Wood.

          "Oi! I don't care if Weasley is the bloody boss around here, Brown! Go out to the pitch and start warming up or else you'll fly laps until your broom gives!"

          "Oliver, practice hasn't started yet!" Meredith complained.

Ron hid a grin. "Trust me, logic holds no ground with him. You'd best be off."

"Aha! You are allied with him!"

          "I never denied it," Ron said. The pair smiled at each other.

***

There was no way in hell Ron was going back to Hermione's. This had been decided the second quidditch practice had ended. No, he had had confrontation enough that day and wanted nothing more to do with women. Instead he decided to go visit Harry and catch up a bit, something that he had been meaning to get around to anyway.

When he reached Harry's flat Ron touched his wand to the door, an action that was supposed to signal to Harry that it was safe to let in whoever was at the other end of the wand. Since Ron saw light coming in from under the door, he expected Harry to answer the door any moment and receive him with warm welcomes and a bottle of ale.

A moment or five passed, though, and still there was no sign of Harry. A bit alarmed, Ron tapped his wand to the door about a dozen more times. Yes, he realized he was being a bit redundant, but one couldn't be too careful.

Finally footsteps could be heard on the other side of the door, and Ron heaved a sigh of relief as the knob began to turn. When Harry opened the door he gave his guest a look of intense displeasure, which caused Ron to inspect the disgruntled man more thoroughly. Harry's hair was rumpled and even more out of order than usual, and his clothes weren't looking that neat either. The agitation he was feeling was evident in not only his physical appearance but in his magical aura as well. When a wizard like Harry was annoyed it wasn't difficult to feel that annoyance when standing close at hand.

          "I was sleeping," Harry said.

          "So I see."

          "You woke me up."

          "Yup."

          "Ron, I had a very long day at work. A third-year blew up one of your brother's latest inventions—a Rotting Rocket, is it called?— in my classroom and I spent the rest of the day trying not to lose my breakfast."

Ron would have laughed had he not been worried Harry would lose his breakfast on him. He took a step back. "So you want me to come back later?"

Harry nodded grimly. "That would be nice."

Seconds later Ron was standing alone in the corridor, wishing he had chosen a backup plan for the evening. It looked like he was going back to Hermione's, but to actually get inside her house he'd better have a damn good apology ready.

***

When Hermione Granger opened her front door that night she knew it would be Ron. "I suppose you're here to apologize?" she asked.

Ron nodded. "I'm sorry," he added.

          "Why are you sorry?" she questioned, more than interested to hear his response.

          "For everything," he said tonelessly.

          "Would you care to elaborate, Ronald." The redhead winced, she only called him Ronald when she was really angry, a trait that was also shared by his mother.

          "I'm sorry for being a prat this morning, I know what I said was wrong. I'm sorry about getting us in this mess with Dylan. I'm sorry for getting drunk last night and for sleeping with you and not remembering—"

Hermione threw up her hands at Ron's mention of the past night's activities. "Alright, Ron, you're forgiven. No need to tell all of Britain about…well, you know."

          "I missed you," Ron told her as he was escorted into the front hall.

Looking at her watch, Hermione made an odd face. "It's only been a few hours."

          "No, I mean when I was away. I don't regret taking a British quidditch team on a world-wide tour, but I do regret not writing to you while I was doing so."

Oddly touched, Hermione's expression softened. She had never heard Ron say anything so sweet before and she was a bit taken-aback. The Ronald Weasley she knew would go to the ends of the earth to avoid talking about emotions, but the one standing in front of her had just expressed genuine regret. She was about to respond accordingly when Ron walked into her kitchen, calling, "What's for dinner?" over his shoulder. She rushed after him, good-humor lost.

          "Ron, we have to talk about Dylan!"

          "That bloke?"

          "That bloke is my boyfriend!" Hermione huffed. "And you have no right to talk about him whatsoever."

Ignoring her, Ron went back to investigating the kitchen. "Don't you cook?" he asked.

          "Stop changing the subject! And no, I don't."

          "Pity. Now what were you saying?"

          "Ron, you told Dylan you were married. I don't know if you've noticed this, but you've gained a tad bit of fame over the last ten years and it may be somewhat noticeable if your supposed wife never makes an appearance!"

Giving up on his food scourge, Ron sat down on a nearby chair. "Why?"

          "Because you're a celebrity! It's one thing to elope and alert the world later on to a spouse's presence, but it's another thing entirely to be married to somebody who doesn't exist."

          "Technically I am married to a person who exists, she just doesn't want to be married to me," Ron shot back.

          "Oh," scoffed Hermione, "and you want to be married to me?"

A silence invaded the kitchen that was very long and very awkward. "You girls and your silly trick questions," Ron finally mumbled. "Nothing changes."

          "Fine, I give up!" Hermione said. "Shut up and hand me some eggs, we'll have omelets."

___________________________________________________________________

Being as I have no idea where this is going, why don't you lovely readers leave me your comments and suggestions? If I use one that you leave, perhaps we can work out some kind of reward. Just don't think it's going to be cash, 'cause trust me, it won't be.

Fleur