Chapter Six: The Past

"Always get married early in the morning. That way, if it doesn't work out, you haven't wasted a whole day."

--Mickey Rooney

All this time it had been under her nose. For two months she had delved through some of the most tedious literature, the most obscure references, and the most tasteless journals only to find that the spellbook she had been seeking was being used as a doorstop to the librarian's office.

If her world wasn't scheduled to come crashing down later that afternoon, she would have been irked.

As it was, she merely grabbed the book, replacing it with a second edition print of Magical Me, and settled in to read about the Mutuus Officium ceremony which hadn't been performed legally in centuries. Her find was more than she dreamed of, diagrams of proper positioning of the contributors and detailed outlines of the charms and spells used to make the transferal adorned the browned pages of the book. The chant repeated throughout the ritual was written in faded ink, followed by the phonetic pronunciation of each line.

It was a beautiful ceremony. Its original use was to preserve the memories and work of a dying individual by passing on his magical powers to another family member. It wasn't until much later that dark wizards had tried harnessing the power of the rite to increase their own abilities. It was quickly outlawed and eventually fell out of memory.

The night described in this account was of an elderly witch coming to the end of her long life, passing on her knowledge and powers to one of her grandsons, who had been born a Squib. Both of the main participants had entered into the ceremony of their own free will otherwise no amount of magic would make the ritual a success.

The author who painstakingly wrote each passage could not, however, write a happy ending to this story. While the ceremony had worked, one of the witch's other grandchildren had been jealous of her cousin receiving such a generous gift. Before the grandson could even recover from the stress of suddenly gaining the abilities accumulated throughout a lifetime, the jealous woman had murdered him.

"Hermione, would it kill you to actually not come into work on your vacation?"

Jumping nervously, she turned to see Ginny standing next to her worktable, hands on her hips and mouth thinned in disapproval. Knowing that it would only irritate the younger woman to comment on how much she looked like her mother, she chose instead to berate her for sneaking up on her. "Don't do that! You probably just took ten years off my life."

"It's not like you're doing much with the years you have," she shot back. Instantly looking contrite, she apologized, "That was uncalled for . . . I'm sorry. But Hermione, I thought you were braver than this. I thought Ron meant something to you."

"Ginny, please . . . it's his wedding day. I can't."

She watched as the other woman tried to control her temper, a trait that set her apart from all her brothers and make her that much stronger. "Fine. I was counting on you to keep that scarlet woman out of our nice, respectable family but I can see your point. I don't agree, but it is your life."

"Yes it is. Let me ruin it as best I see fit," Hermione weakly joked, gathering up her notes and making ready to leave. She was already running behind, no doubt the reason why Harry had sent his attack dog to find her. "I'll meet you upstairs in a moment."

Seeing the disbelief on Ginny's face, she added, "I promise. I just need to make a copy of something."

"If you're not in the lobby in five minutes, I'm going to have to take drastic action."

Shivering slightly at the all too real threat, she waited until Ginny was gone to find a blank bit of parchment. Laying it smoothly against the page she had been reading, she charmed it to copy onto her paper. Watching the words soak through the parchment, she allowed a few seconds for it to dry and then carefully folded up the copy and hid it in her pocket. She turned to leave but a stray bit of paranoia made her retrace her steps, replacing the antique book in its former position as doorstop.

Chuckling at her unease, and attributing it to her nerves about Ron's wedding, she left the room to face her fate.

"Beautiful, my dear," Mrs. Weasley murmured as she put the finishing touches on Hermione's hair. She had attempted to tame it herself but quickly found the task quite beyond her talent. Like so many times before, she had run to Mrs. Weasley for help. The mother-of-the-groom had been only too happy to fix her hair and makeup, relishing the opportunity since it was so rare for a mother of six boys and a self-sufficient daughter.

Looking around the room she had shared with Ginny for so many summers, she caught sight of a picture of Ron and Harry. Without realizing, she began to cry.

"Hermione, whatever is the matter," the older woman asked, concern apparent in her voice and in the swift glance she shot at her daughter. She made a futile effort to stop her tears but when she felt Mrs. Weasley's arms wrap around her shaking shoulders, she started to sob in earnest.

"Good thing you put that waterproof charm on her face," Ginny commented, watching her with a mixture of curiosity and pity.

"Ginny Weasley, if you have nothing helpful to contribute, leave," Molly snapped, pulling her into a hug and patting her back reassuringly. "It's okay, dear, I know you think this changes everything but it really changes very little."

Her words, while true, caused Hermione to weep harder. It didn't change anything at all because there never had been anything. The only thing it changed was something that hadn't happened, that couldn't happen now, and so it wasn't really a change.

Merlin, now she was confusing herself.

"You'll still be friends, you'll see each other all the time," Mrs. Weasley tried again. Unfortunately, the effect was ruined when she added, "Now you'll have one more friend to spend time with . . ."

"Yes, you're not losing a best friend, you're gaining Cindy," Ginny pointed out, her own face a mask of dislike. "Who are you trying to kid, Mum, none of us are happy about this. She's a terror."

"That is enough, Ginny, shouldn't you be with the other bridesmaids?"

"Sure, maybe if I'm lucky I'll blend in to the sea of bright pink and no one will notice my hair," she retorted, giving one last glance of disgust at the mirror to take in the pink, puffy dress robe she was wearing and the matching hat before storming out of the room.

"Poor dear, she really does look like an angry, overgrown pig in that outfit," Mrs. Weasley remarked sympathetically. "You, however, look stunning. Isn't that the same shade you wore to the Yule Ball at Hogwarts in 4th year?"

Startled out of her misery, Hermione looked down at her satin gown and smiled slightly when she realized that Mrs. Weasley was right. "I guess so, I didn't notice until you pointed it out."

"Ron's always liked you in blue," she stated, tears glittering in her eyes. "I can't deny that I had thought it would be you—"

"Mrs. Weasley, please don't say anything that might make this more awkward than it already is . . . Ron's made his choice and we have to be supportive."

"It wasn't much of a choice when he only had one option," she pointed out with a stern look. Seconds later, her face softened and patting her cheek, Mrs. Weasley observed gently, "He's lucky to have you as a friend."

Friend, that word was enough to make her sick to her stomach. Squaring her shoulders, she gently squeezed Mrs. Wealsey's hand in thanks. It was too late to turn back now, she could only go forward and then move on.

Harry sure did clean up nicely. The deep gray robes complimented his fair complexion and made his green eyes piercingly bright. She studied him fondly and with the first hint of amusement she had felt in days, she noted that he was checking her out.

"My, my . . . don't you look pretty, Miss Granger," he said slyly, winking at her humorously. For the thousandth time since this whole fiasco started, she thanked the heavens above that the Boy-Who-Lived was so hard to kill and her brother in everything but blood. "I'll have to keep a close eye on you or I'll never get a dance tonight."

Smiling at his sweet effort to put her at ease, she said, "Sorry I'm late. Where is everybody?"

"The Brothers Weasley are already out there, taking up the entire front row," Harry explained, pointing out the window at the crowded garden. "Ron is at the front with his father."

Seeing the man of the hour, she noticed the dark circles under his eyes and felt a pang of regret pierce her heart. He was unhappy about something, she could tell, and it stiffened her resolve to be as encouraging as she could. "He looks like he's about to lose his lunch."

"I'd agree except that I know he hasn't eaten anything all day. You know Ron, he probably doesn't like standing up there by himself."

She didn't believe that but it wasn't worth the trouble to say so. Shifting her attention to the man who was taking a seat next to his wife, she noticed Mr. Weasley looked more than a touch uneasy himself. "Harry, do you know what has been worrying Mr. Weasley so much lately?"

"Maybe the after effects of that hex," he answered with a unconvincing shrug, obviously he had a theory but refused to share, which was fine by her because she had more important things to obsess about at the moment. Even over the low din of chatter and through the thick walls of the Burrow, she heard the change in music. Harry lightly placed her arm through his and said, "This is it. Are you going to be all right?"

"Yes," she said with conviction she did not have, "I'm going to be fine."

The aisle seemed to go on for miles as she walked slowly towards the canopy with Harry. The flowers were in bloom and fairies cast a soft glow that wasn't dimmed by the setting sun. Even the gnomes had called a temporary truce, choosing to view the ceremony from the fence post.

She almost laughed at the reaction she got from the Weasley boys as she passed by them. Bill was grinning like a madman, Charlie reached out and touched her hand softly as she passed, Percy nodded approvingly, and the twins both gave her the thumbs up. "Those two are going to be trouble tonight," she heard Harry whisper knowingly.

Finally, she caught sight of Ron, a little disappointed at the weak smile he gave her. She looked better today than she could ever remember looking. By the expression on his face, you'd think it hurt him to see her at all.

Harry maneuvered them to their best friend's side as the music once again changed. She knew what this song was and its implications. Cindy was making her way down the aisle . . .

Suddenly her good intentions and supportive friend routine vanished, leaving her with the certain knowledge that if she didn't tell Ron she loved him now, the opportunity would never come again. Ignoring the voice in her mind that warned her it was already too late, that she was only being selfish by admitting her feelings as his fiancée walked towards him during his wedding ceremony, she looked past Harry, who stood between them, and whispered, "Psst."

Both men turned to see what she wanted and she felt her face grow hot. So much for leaving him in peace.

"Please Ron," she pleaded quietly.

He glanced at her, obviously confused, before checking to see Cindy's progress down the aisle. "What was that?"

"Please . . ."

"Please what?"

"Please don't marry Cindy."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Harry's eyes grow huge and heard him expel a shaky breath but her attention was focused solely on Ron. She allowed everything she felt for him to show in her eyes as he stared at her, shocked into silence. Hoping . . . just hoping . . .

The final chords of the wedding march were sounding loudly through the garden, failing to break the intense staring match between the two of them. She could hear the crunch of dry grass as Cindy neared them, almost feel her malevolent presence radiating towards her, but she dared not break eye contact.

At length, Ron looked away blinking rapidly as if to clear out the memory of what he had seen. His eyes found hers again and she nearly collapsed at what she saw in them. He was hurting—hurting for her and for himself—but more than that he was pleading for forgiveness because he couldn't give her what she wanted. It was too late.

As Cindy took her rightful place at his side, her expression smug, she heard the officiating wizard begin the vows. Some time during the ceremony, she observed with surreal detachment that Harry took her hand but she couldn't feel the warmth of his touch because she was already numb.

A/N: Don't get discouraged. And that's all I have to say about that . . .