"I'm never going to see Hermione Granger again." The thought struck Ron like a sack of Bludgers, and he swayed slightly. Harry quickly reached out and steadied him. Ron nodded his thanks and returned his gaze to Hermione's motionless form.
His eyes lingered on her peaceful face framed by the no-longer bushy hair that stirred slightly in the gentle breeze. How had it taken him so long to appreciate her? Why had it taken so long to realize how much she meant to him?
As his emotions threatened to overwhelm him, Ron tore his eyes off of her and glanced around the group of people next to him. Mrs. Granger was sobbing openly, while Mrs. Weasley patted her hand in an attempt to calm her. She herself was surreptitiously dabbing at her eyes. Ginny was standing just beyond Hermione with a far-off expression.
The Minister of Magic's voice droned on and on, the speech he was reciting tailored for heros. Ron tuned him out; he had heard far too many of those speeches since Voldemort's fall. His gaze wandered up towards the battle-scarred castle, still standing, but with scaffolding spells supporting certain of the towers. There hadn't really been any question about where to hold today's ceremony; Hogwarts had been the only fitting place. Ron watched a trailing cloud float across the deep blue sky. It reminded him of Hermione's hair the day he had first met her.
Once released, the memories gripped him, racing across his mind in a flood. Hermione standing in the doorway of the Hogwart's Express, enquiring about Neville's toad. Her laughing smile as she talked with Harry and him in the Great Hall; her frown of concentration as she pored over her books; her hand in class, always in the air. The first time she had kissed him; and the first time he had kissed her, standing under a sprig of mistletoe at Grimmauld Place. Their first date, spent wandering Hogsmead and discovering all sorts of things they had never noticed before.
The grimmer memories. Hermione sobbing into his shoulder after Sirius's death. Hermione lying petrified in the hospital wing after meeting the basilisk. It always seemed like she was the one who took the worst of a fight, yet she fought anyway, so that others wouldn't be hurt in her place.
Hermione sprawled on the floor of the Department of Mysteries, and he, affected by a spell, barely even noticing. Hermione lying very still on the battlefield after she'd dived in front of a curse he'd never seen coming. Being forced to leave her body so that he could protect Harry long enough to get to Voldemort. Wandering the hospital afterwards desperately praying to see her, afraid to visit the morgue a floor down. And now this...
The Minister's voice interrupted his thoughts. "Ronald Weasley, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, for as long as you both live and beyond?"
Ron nodded fervently. "I do."
Hermione's smile lit her entire face as she gazed back at him.
Histhoughts returned to the hospital. He had almost given up hope when Dennis Creevey had caught his arm. "Ron, if you're looking for Hermione, they've got her with some others upstairs. They ran out of room in here." He didn't have any memory of going up the stairs or of searching the makeshift infirmaries. All he remembered was seeing her face on the pallet, seeing her nostrils flaring slightly as she breathed. That moment was the memory he used nowadays when he called up a Patronus.
"I do." Hermione's voice rang out clear and strong.
"You may kiss the bride." Ron and Hermione had already been leaning towards one another. Their lips met and locked. Dimly, he was aware of cheering from behind them, mixed with the bangs from Fred and George's fireworks. As they pulled back, he whispered to her, "I love you, Hermione Weasley."
She answered him every bit as fervently. "I love you, too, Ronald Weasley." They grasped each other's hands as they turned to face their family and friends. "Always and forever." He wasn't sure who had spoken; it might well have been both of them together.