Disclaimer: Blah, blah, blah . . . this is so getting old and very quickly.

Twenty-six

Five Years Later . . .

"Oh, Hermione, I don't know if I can do this."

"Ginny, stop worrying! You'll be fine!"

"How do I look?"

"Beautiful. Harry would die if he could see you now."

"Are you sure?"

"OF COURSE, GINNY!" I hissed as loudly as I could without being disrespectful.

Ginny took a deep breath. "Okay. Just making sure."

I stood outside a large stone church in Scotland. I was dressed in a beautiful strapless pink dress that fell down to my feet, which were in white pumps. My hair was curled and pulled off my face with a silk ribbon that was the same pale pink as my dress.

"What about me? Do I look alright?" I asked her.

"You look amazing."

Ginny was in an even fancier dress. It was long and white and reached the floor. It was plain silk underneath, but a layer of lace covered the silk. The dress was sleeveless, but not strapless. Dainty pearls rested along her neckline and dangled from her ears. Her flaming red hair was pulled up into a curly bun on the top of her head, which was crowned with a crown of pearls. A laced veil fell down her back.

"Goodbye, Ginny – good luck," I said, as it was my turn to walk down the aisle. As the maid of honor, I was supposed to go before she was. I had dreamt of this many times, only in my dreams, I was the one in the wedding dress, and Ron was standing on the other side of the church instead of Harry. Ron was on the other side of the church, but he was not the groom – he was Harry's Best Man. Everyone had prepared for many months for this wedding. I was nervous, but I knew that Ginny was more so.

We went through the ceremony perfectly. Nothing could have made it better. My heart swelled as I watched my best friend who had been with Harry for five years go from his fiancée to his wife.

"You may kiss the bride." And he did. And everyone applauded.

I was talking to Mrs. Weasley at the reception when I looked at the corner and saw Ron, Harry, and Ginny whispering secretively. Ron looked nervous. I wanted to know what they were talking about, but I did not want to be rude. So instead, I just excused myself from Mrs. Weasley and went outside to the beautiful grounds of the castle at which the reception was held.

I was, of course, happy for my friend, but I was more so jealous. Why couldn't I be the one getting married? After all, I had loved Ron for longer than she had loved Harry.

I was so lost in my own thoughts as I leaned against the stone wall that separated me from a fall down the cliff that when I heard someone whistling behind me, I didn't notice for a few moments. After a while, though, I did start singing along with the whistling.

"No matter where you are, I'll never say never,

Cuz I'll be loving you for the rest of forever."

After hearing myself sing those words, I turned around to face my intruder.

"That really was one of the best songs I've ever heard," Ron said. I brushed a lock of red hair out of his eyes.

"You always seem to announce your presence by singing or by commenting on my singing," I commented coolly. "Is it coincidence or something more?"

"I don't know, you just seem to always be singing," he said.

"Well, that's because I actually have something good to sing about."

Ron smiled and walked me over to a small stone bench overlooking the gorgeous view. I sat down upon it, and he sat down next to me. I looked over the land and said, "Isn't the view from here amazing?"

Ron looked me straight in the eyes and said, "Yes. Yes, it certainly is."

I blushed and looked at my lap. I felt his soft hands on top of mine. "You know, Hermione, we've been seeing each other for an extremely long time. I've always known there was something special about you, even when I was in denial in our seventh year. But then once I realized that you loved me, too, there was nothing stopping me. Everyone says we're perfect for each other . . . and I cannot agree with them more."

"Nor can I, Ron," I said.

"I've been thinking a lot about us recently. And I've been thinking about how long we have known each other. And I've thought about all those times I could have lost you – in our first year, against the troll; in our second year when you were petrified and could technically have died had you not had the mirror; in our third year when you went back in time, and even when Professor Lupin changed into a werewolf; in our fourth year when we were both used in the Second Challenge (well, we both could've died that year, but I would have felt worse if you had died and I had never gotten the chance to tell you I was sorry) . . . so many chances I had missed to tell you how I felt. And what if I had lost you? What would I have done? I . . . maybe I would have died myself."

I could have cried right then, but I wanted to be a big, brave girl. I knew what was coming.

"I suppose what I'm saying is that I value you more than life itself. I love you, Hermione, right down to the very bottom of my soul." And then, he did the very thing I had dreamt of him doing for years.

He got down on one knee and pulled a black velvet box out of his coat pocket. Inside was a golden band with a diamond encrusted within.

"Would you, please, marry me?"

I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. I had nothing to say. I could think of nothing. Instead of saying something, I reached down to him and pulled him up so he was fully upright.

"Oh, Ron . . ." and I threw my arms around him and kissed him.

To everyone else, Ron was always just Ron Weasley – one of the many Weasley boys and older brother to the only Weasley girl, Ginny. He was Harry Potter's best friend, the guy Harry did everything with. They always went on all these adventures together, like in the Second Year when they ventured into the Chamber of Secrets without me. He was the son of Arthur Weasley, who worked in the Ministry of Magic at the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Department. He was the guy whose dress robes didn't look right and always had many threads hanging off of them, the guy whose books were second-hand and whose wand had once belonged to his older brother, Bill. He was the guy with the rat named Scabbers who (although nobody knows besides the three of us, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Snape, and Dumbledore) is really Peter Pettigrew. He's the guy who always had to walk in someone's shadow, be it Harry's or those of his overachieving brothers, and even his immature ones who now owed a small joke shop.

But to me, he was much, much more than that.