Starin' out at the rain with a heavy heart
It's the end of the world in my mind
Then your voice pulls me back in like a wake-up call (call)

I've been looking for the answer
Somewhere
I couldn't see that it was right there
But now I know what I didn't know

Because you live and breathe
Because you make me believe in myself
When nobody else can help
Because you live, girl
My world
Has twice as many stars in the sky

- Because You Live, Jesse McCartney

The Princess Diaries (A Royal Engagement)

Two hours of sleep.

Seriously. How is someone supposed to rule the country on only two hours of sleep? How is this princess going to get through all the pre-wedding stuff her grandmother probably has planned for her on such little rest?

Because that's all Hermione managed to get last night (or was it this morning?). And when they finally put their heads down on her pillows, it wasn't exactly restful. Not with all the wriggling around and mumbling Ginny did. How does Harry sleep next to that yet always have a smile on his face? Married people are weird.

A shudder creeps over her body and Hermione ignores the urge to be sick. She'll be a married person soon. In a little over twenty-four hours, in fact. Will Nicholas expect to share a bed with her straight away? They haven't yet, not will all his prim and properness and refusal to be around Hermione for longer than a few hours. And there's a lot they haven't discussed about it yet and a ton she needs to know. Does he sleep on the left or the right side of the bed? Is he a firm believer in consummating the marriage on the first night? Her stomach churns at the thought of it. Sex is for people in love or lust, and Hermione is experiencing neither of those when she thinks of Lord Nicholas Ferrington. She couldn't be further from either sensation.

Even the thought of his surname heightens her disgust. At least she doesn't have to take it. The fact she's a royal means he has to take hers, which suits her pretty fine, thank you very much. Hermione probably would have insisted on keeping Granger, even if she wasn't due to be queen soon. It's a part of who she is. Anyway, why should she take her husband's name? That's so old-fashioned and even Hermione, who feels beaten down by all of the rules she's had to follow for her love of her subjects recently, won't stand for that kind of sexism.

Hermione stares into her cup of coffee, stirring it absentmindedly as she attempts to sleep with her eyes open. Somewhere on the left side of the table, Queen Beatrice is chattering away but her words don't make any sense. They come out in a jumble of vowels and consonants and no amount of blinking of Hermione's gritty eyes can help her digest them.

"For Merlin's sake, Hermione," her grandmother snaps, finally fed up with being ignored. "Are you even listening to me?"

Shaking her head, Hermione lifts her eyes from the table and tries to focus on her grandmother. "Sorry, I'm so tired…" Her words fade into a yawn, and the princess hurries for her napkin to cover her faux pas. Beatrice's lips grow tight in disdain. Hermione wasn't quick enough, then.

"Well, you were the one who decided to stay up and continue partying with Ginevra. As much fun as we were having, you have to recognise when it's time to call it a night and get to sleep. You can't shirk any of your royal duties just because you are tired. A queen is never shattered or exhausted. You can't let your people down because you didn't get enough sleep."

Perhaps Hermione should have escaped back up to her bedroom once her guests had left, instead of accepting her grandmother's invitation to her private breakfast table. Hermione had already stuffed two croissants and scrambled eggs on toast into her mouth during her first meal of the day, in an attempt to muster some energy, now she can't even face the bowl of fruit salad sitting in front of her. But it's the day before she gets married, which means there's only one month until she gets crowned, and Hermione is determined to drain as much information from Queen Beatrice as possible.

Plus her grandmother is so busy with arrangements for both events, Hermione barely gets a chance to see her. Still, if she'd known she would be getting an impromptu bollocking, she might have chosen to hide instead of facing the queen.

Summoning her last ounce of strength, Hermione finishes her coffee and straightens up in her seat, trying at least to look alert, even if she doesn't feel it. It would be too much for her to snap back at her Grandmother this close to the wedding. Everyone's nerves are frayed with the pressure of all this last-minute organising, Hermione doesn't want an argument with Beatrice to derail anything. So instead she takes the easy way out, giving the queen a curt nod before saying, "I'm sorry. I'll try better. At least today is mostly about relaxing and getting ready for tomorrow, right?"

"And practising your shooting."

Shit. The princess suppresses a groan as all her failed attempts to shoot that stupid arrow through that stupid golden ring come flooding back to her. It doesn't matter how much Renard bellows about Hermione's technique and stance, each and every arrow misses the mark. And practising the pointless event is the last thing she wants to do today. Hermione had been planning face masks, manicures and massages with Ginny. But now she'll have to spend most of her day out on the lawn. Her arms already ache with the effort of practising in between Ministry meetings over the past few days.

She releases a heavy sigh, unable to keep it in. At least the weather is nice. Maybe the fresh air will do her good.

"Of course, and I'll practise my shooting," Hermione replies. "I must not forget to learn more completely useless skills that will not help me become queen in any way shape or form."

The snapped words burst from her lips despite her best attempt at controlling her temper. As expected, Queen Beatrice's eyebrows shoot upwards. She places her marmalade-covered triangle of toast down on the beautifully decorated china plate before opening her mouth.

"Now, I'll have you know, young lady, that—"

But Beatrice's dressing down of Hermione is halted by a knock at the door. The queen sighs before turning to look at it. "Come in," she says with the sharp tongue that was supposed to be for Hermione only.

The door whispers against the carpet as it swings open. Two sets of brown spindly fingers creep around the edge first before Twinkle, another of her grandmother's house elves, appears, her light-bulb-like eyes shining with happiness. She is wearing a floral dress today, paired with neon yellow and pink socks. It's like she's been taking fashion advice from Dobby.

She bows so low, her long nose grazes the floor. Once she's upright again, she announces, "Missus Wheezy and Lord Ferrington are here for Princess Hermione."

Saved by her best friend and her fiancé (by arrangement). Phew. It's probably the first time she's been pleased to hear his name being announced by the household staff since their engagement. Hermione might be forgiven for feeling that way if it had been a few months or even a few years, but it's only been a couple of weeks since he got down on one knee and she's fed up with it all already. That doesn't bode well for a happy marriage.

Pushing the thought to the back of her head in the hope she might forget it, Hermione gets to her feet, trying to hide the fact she's hurrying away from her grandmother. The admonishment will still be there when they meet again, Hermione's sure of it, but she needs some space before she cracks once more.

"Thank you, Winky," she says to the house-elf before turning to her grandmother. "I'll take Ginny and Lord Nicholas with me to the lawn to practise shooting the arrow. Maybe they can give me some advice. I'm sorry for snapping, I am trying my best." She curtsies low.

"Very well. I'll see you at lunch."

With another sigh, Hermione rushes out of the room. She'll have to find some other way of placating her grandmother later. Maybe she can pay her some compliments during lunch, or report back that she's finally put the arrow through the hoop. That will make Beatrice happy. Hermione needs the monarch on her side to get through the next couple of days.

⁂

Narrowing her eyes at the opposite end of the lawn, Hermione pulls back the bow string. Flames flicker at the end of the arrow, threatening to obscure her vision, but she trains her gaze to stare past them, to not let them put her off.

This time, she's going to get the arrow through the hoop; she can feel it deep in her stomach. After fifty-odd attempts this morning, this has to be the one. Hermione has spent most of her downtime watching the Hunger Games, trying to draw some sort of inspiration from Katniss Everdeen.

"I'm ready," Tonks shouts from next to the target, her wand poised ready to extinguish the fire. It's been amusing at least, watching the ex-Auror chase around tiny puddles of flames as Hermione shoots disastrous arrow after disastrous arrow.

But despite the entertainment, each failed attempt sinks Hermione deeper into her depression.

Her heart pounds as she loosens her grip, sending the fiery arrow sailing through the sky. Its trajectory looks right this time, flying in a perfect arc over the brilliantly manicured lawn (now covered with brown burnt patches). But before it reaches its full distance it begins its descent, finally embedding in the ground a good ten feet away from its destination.

"I've got it!"

As Tonks rushes forward to sort out Hermione's mess, the princess turns around, her shoulders slumping in defeat. She throws the bow at her feet in a strop. That's it, she's done with this. The arrow is never going to get through the hoop. She'll have to bewitch it instead and hope that nobody notices her cheating. Surely it'll be easy to hide her wand somewhere in her wedding dress tomorrow?

"That's probably enough flaming arrows for today," she says, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice. "I'll have to practise with the normal ones. Otherwise, there won't be any grass left on the lawn. Are you sure I didn't burn you, Nicholas?"

There's no hope of getting any reassurance from either of her companions. Ginny is using her wand and the charm Tonks taught her to extinguish the smouldering gash on Nicholas's suit jacket. Hermione hadn't meant to hit him with one of her rogue arrows, she had fired it just after he returned to the lawn after getting them drinks, and the Lord got in the way. He should have known better than to walk straight over the grass instead of going around. Really, it's his fault.

Guilt twists her stomach anyway. Hermione can't even complete the simplest of tasks. What must he think of her? She's a failure at all types of activities unless it's related to magic, studying or reading. Both Nicholas and Ginny have shouted reassuring words at her throughout the morning, telling her that Hermione will get there in the end, but every platitude has fallen flat. They don't believe them either.

"Of course you burned him," Ginny chirps back, fighting to keep the smile from her lips as the flames die down and she stows her wand. "Look at his coat!"

"Oh no, it's very minor. You just sort of… seared the sleeve." But Nicholas' consolations don't match his face, as he frowns at his now scarred jacket.

Hermione opens her mouth to apologise again. As much as she doesn't want to marry the guy and the fact he doesn't want any sort of intimacy with her, she is sorry for setting fire to his probably very expensive coat. But before she can get any words out, the sound of someone whistling distracts her.

It's coming from the path that circles the lawn. She looks in the direction of the sound, unable to stop the grin from spreading over her face as she spots Ron peeping out at her from a gap in the bushes. One hand is shoved into a jean pocket as he lifts the other in greeting, and the top two buttons on his shirt are undone. Hermione's heart skips a beat as her eyes travel all over his body.

As she slips out of her stupor, a warning shiver grips hold of her body. Lord Nicholas cannot see Ron again. They got off on the wrong foot when Ron interrupted Hermione trying to snog Nicholas, and there hasn't been a chance for them to reconcile. It was frosty during the garden party, and Hermione can't handle a wand fight after only two hours of sleep. Someone is bound to be hit with a curse and die, and that would get this whole wedding shenanigan off on the wrong foot.

And despite Ron's declaration yesterday that he wants to try and be friends with Nicholas now is not the time or the place. She's not even sure he meant it.

"Ginny," Hermione calls through gritted teeth, unable to tear her gaze away from Ron.

"Yes?"

"Can I speak to you for a second?"

Tonks is now with Nicholas, trying to remove the residue of ash on his sleeve. It provides enough of a distraction for Ginny to slip away. Hermione grabs the redhead by the shoulders and spins her in the direction of Ron.

She continues to utter through a clenched jaw. "Look over there!"

The smile that's been threatening to explode over Ginny's face all morning finally appears, lighting up her eyes. She's almost giddy with excitement, although at least she refrains from clapping her hands and dancing. Ginny has always been a top supporter of Ron and Hermione, second only to Harry, who apparently could run the fan club.

"Yes, Hermione," she chirps in reply. "That's my brother. Do you think he's here to see you or me? Nah, it can't be me 'cos we had a chat this morning after I dropped Mum home. Should I shoo him away, because you're busy with Lord Nicholas? Or should I shoo good ol' Nick away, so you can get busy with Ronald? Just tell me who to shoo and I'll shoo."

Should Hermione speak to Ron right now? All of her old feelings for him have come rushing back over the past couple of weeks, and there's a very thin wall keeping them inside. Every whiff of his scent, every breath he breathes threatens to make her explode like an Obscurial and that wouldn't be good, especially not on the eve of her wedding.

The princess should be focusing on Nicholas, using what very little time they have left to try and get some of her questions answered. But a quick glance at her husband-to-be and that familiar nausea churns in her stomach.

Maybe it's the lack of sleep clouding her judgement but Hermione doesn't want to do the right thing anymore, not when Ron is involved. Her unquenchable thirst drives her to spend as much time as possible with him, however unfair that might be. Especially as tomorrow morning, she has to give him up completely.

A tingle rolls down her spine as she whispers to Ginny, "I need to talk to Ron. Only for a second. Could you—"

"Leave it with me."

Ginny salutes Hermione before squeezing her shoulder and marching back to Nicholas, a determined look on her face. She links arms with the lord and steers him in the direction of the castle. "Nicholas, now you're no longer smoking, we should head inside. Otherwise I fear Hermione might kill you with the next arrow. We can ask Dedalus to find you a new jacket, since mine and Tonks' repair skills aren't up to scratch. What do you think?"

"I guess. It is almost time for lunch."

"Exactly, come on then."

Nicholas looks back over his shoulder to glance at Hermione. Even though she's sure he won't be able to see Ron since her ex has ducked back behind a bush, she still steps in the way, just in case. "Princess, are you coming?"

"I'm going to have one more go. Perhaps I can do it when there's nobody else watching me. I'll meet you inside shortly."

As soon as they disappear from view, Hermione turns back around to Ron. He's already sauntering across the lawn, a massive smile on his face. Her lungs forget to draw in breath as he grows closer.

"You got my sister doing you dirty work for you now, have you?" he says once he gets to Hermione. Why is his grin so dazzling? The tiredness that had been in her bones since she woke up disappears with his words, and she finds herself buzzing with energy and warmth from being so close to him. "You do know she's up the duff, probably should be resting."

"Oh, no. She's not working, just help—"

"Hermione, relax. I was joking."

"Oh." Perhaps her exhaustion hasn't gone away completely then.

"I've been watching you trying to shoot that stupid arrow." He picks up her bow and examines it. "Surprised you haven't set fire to the castle. Did nobody tell your grandma you suck at anything sports or activity related?"

Hermione turns on him, failing to stop her own smile from creasing the corners of her mouth. "Oy! I'm good at some things."

"Like what?"

"Arithmancy."

"That's not an activity, Hermione."

"Anyway, I wouldn't be surprised if she hasn't put a fire prevention charm on the castle. She loves this place more than me. I'm actually debating letting her stay here after my coronation."

Wrinkling his nose up, Ron replies, "And what? You and Lord Nicholas live here with her? You two take the west wing whilst she stays in the east?"

"Oh Merlin, no. That would be grim. No way to start a marriage. Perhaps we'll move to Castell Coch in Wales. It's stunning there. I don't know, Nicholas and I haven't really discussed it."

Ron frowns but doesn't push the question any further. Perhaps the idea of Nicholas and Hermione all shacked up makes him as sick as it does her.

"From Scotland to Wales, huh?" he muses. "Smart move. Would you like some help?"

"Moving?"

"No, with the arrow!" He holds out the recurve to her.

"From you? When did you learn to shoot?"

"It's amazing the things they teach you at Auror school. Even in America. I used to think it was stupid, but now…" He trails off, his grin growing wider. "Maybe there is some benefit to it."

His low, gravelly tone sets her arm hairs on edge. It's so sexy, reminding her of the whispered conversations they had shared in bed once upon a time. It ignites a flame deep inside her core and a whimper slips from her mouth. But if Ron notices the noise she's made, he doesn't give any hint. Instead, he thrusts the bow towards her again.

"Oh, uhm. Okay."

Merlin, it's like she's a teenager again. She used to act like this around him—flustered, unable to squeeze her words out—before she found out she was a princess, before she even realised that she had feelings for him. Her palms are sweaty, so she tightens her grip around the decorated wood as she takes it from him.

Get it together, Hermione.

"Alright, it's all in your stance. Get into position."

She stares at him for a moment, unable to register what he's saying to her. There were a number of positions they used to enjoy together, but that would be entirely inappropriate on the croquet lawn. So instead, she keeps her eyes trained on his lips as her body burns for him. Ron is so close, all it would take is a tiny stretch and then her lips would be pressed against his. Now that's a great position.

"Hermione!"

Snapping to it, her cheeks burn as she arranges herself into some sort of shape and lifts the bow. She pulls the string back and gets ready to shoot.

"Well, no wonder you're getting it wrong."

With a tut, Ron adjusts her hips first, forcing her legs just a little bit wider. Every move of his hands, every touch of his fingers, even through the layers of her light summer trousers, sends electricity coursing through her body and a flood of delightful memories washes through her already completely distracted head. Merlin, help me.

Next, he moves onto her arms, his fingertips gripping hold of her as he pushes her back arm down. "Elbow down a little bit more. That's it. Now use your mouth as an anchor."

"I beg your pardon?" She almost loosens the bow in surprise.

Ron smirks. "Touch your mouth, Hermione." His fingers remain on her back shoulder as he wraps his spare hand around the one that's holding the bow. "Relax a little bit more and don't forget to breathe."

It's an off-hand command, but it's one she needs. Since he's been by her side, her lungs have given up the basic functions she needs to survive. But Ron's always had this way of disarming her. Her heart forgets to beat. Sometimes, she can't even utter her own name. Her head is in a spin and for a moment, she forgets where she is as her ears seek out the sound of his heartbeat. It used to beat in time with hers, and at the moment, finding out if it still does is the most important thing to her.

Relax, Hermione.

"You need to look at the target, not me." His chuckle sends a buzz of excitement straight to her centre, which is already soaking wet with need.

Hermione tries her best to focus on the golden hoop and not on how easy it is to fall into his gaze. But how can she when he's standing this close to her? Does he know what his proximity is doing to her right now? How can she concentrate on shooting this damn arrow when he's assaulting her with the warmth of his body and the smell of sandalwood. Merlin, if she could taste his lips, just a little, then maybe she might be able to get this right.

"Hermione, relax. Just let it happen."

His voice is so low now, it incites a wealth of released memories. The two of them in bed, his touch in the same places, only there were a lot less clothes between them. Whispered words encouraging each other to do the kind of things that bring a blush to her whole body. Sweat dripping down their bodies, mingling together as he brings her to completion over and over again. Sure, he's been her only lover so far, but she's not quite ready to give up on him completely.

"And release."

Yes, please.

Biting her lip, she pulls back the string and does as she's told. Ron's breath burns hot against her cheek as they watch the arrow make the same arc through the air.

And then it soars through the hoop before hitting the grass behind it.

"I did it!" Hermione shrieks as she abandons the bow on the floor and throws herself at Ron. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she buries her head against his skin and takes in a huge breath.

Ron's hands slide around her back, holding her close to him. His laugh reverberates through her body, setting every inch of it alight. "I knew you could do it. You just needed a little help from an expert. How did it feel?"

"Wonderful." Hermione pulls away from him, her heart stopping again as her eyes lock in with his perfect azures. There's a tremor in her voice as she repeats, "Wonderful."

Again she's in the perfect position to kiss him. He's even closer than before, his lips just a hair's breadth away. Ron's eyes flutter shut as he shifts a little closer, telling Hermione that he has the same idea as her. Her pulse throbs in her neck. It would only take a tiny movement to close the gap and they'd be snogging once more.

But you're getting married tomorrow.

Where the fuck did that come from? How dare her intrusive thoughts spoil the moment she's been yearning for since that afternoon at the fountain. Hermione had been so close to kissing Ron again, she could taste the salt and morning coffee on his lips. The passion that had sizzled between them disapparates as she unravels her arms, a sinister chill flooding her body as soon as they are a few steps apart.

Ron clears his throat and shoves one hand back into his pocket. His cheeks burn bright red and Hermione's regret grows.

"Sorry. I—" He sighs and runs his spare hand through his hair. "That's not why I came here. To kiss you, I mean. Even though I want to. Fuck. I just wanted to tell you that I'm going back to America."

Hermione's world crumbles as an icy grip takes hold of her heart. No. Absolutely not. I'm Queen and I forbid it. How can she never see him again? Despite her initial shock and vitriol at his unexpected arrival, Hermione's gotten used to him being around the castle. She's even enjoying all the random interactions they've been having. And now it's going to disappear in a flick of a wand.

"I thought you were getting on well here? Kingsley has enjoyed having you around. But I guess work is calling you back. Or is it because of the way I've acted? Because I didn't mean to, seeing you again just threw me off kilter and I'm so—"

"No! I mean, not at all. It's just I think it's time for me to bow out gracefully, don't you?"

Oh. Since when has his appearance at Ballindalloch been about winning her back? Has Hermione missed some cues from him? Pain yanks at her heart. When did she become so out of tune with him? Or is she jumping the broom again, making assumptions about his intentions? Maybe he's talking about his rouse to find out what she's been up to at the Ministry or some game to get in between Hermione and Nicholas. After all, his distrust of the Lord was the first thing Ron expressed when he learned Hermione was seeing someone new.

No, that can't be it. The sad look in his eyes, the regret plastered all over his insincere smile tells her it's the first option. Ron wants her back, too.

It surprises Hermione when the thought doesn't madden her. After all, the resurgence of feelings for him has been driving her crazy since their kiss at the fountain. It's like she's been rooting for him, playing up to it in the hope he can distract her from her fast-coming doom. A wave of sadness crashes over her. I don't want to lose him again.

"But I thought that…" Her words trail off as tears spring to her eyes and roll over her cheeks. "I don't want you to leave."

The stupid lop-sided grin that seems fixed on Ron's face falters for the first time in a while. A frown creases his forehead as he reaches up to cup her cheek, running his thumb over her skin. Desperate to savour every last touch, she rests her head against his palm. This can't be the end.

"I wish I could say that I'm a better man than this, but I can't stand around and watch you marry someone else. It hurts too much. It's supposed to be me and you in front of the altar, in front of all our friends and family, Hermione, and it sucks that we're not getting the happy ending we deserve.

"But I get it. Something else is going on and you can't tell me about it. That must be the reason for all this madness. There's no way the Hermione I know would dive into marriage this quickly. I think I've worked it out, but I'm not going to push you for an explanation. Not anymore."

His thumb continues to stroke a calming pattern over her cheek. The princess wants to close her eyes, to memorise every last touch, but she forces them open. She keeps her gaze trained on his, even though every blink, every shimmer of tear drives the pain of a curse further into her heart.

"When I heard about Lord Nicholas, I'd hoped that I could distract you from it, try and persuade you that it's me you should be with, not him. But I think it's bigger than that, bigger than just you and him. I won't stand in the way of your crown, Hermione." His sigh twists her gut even tighter. Ron's ears burn bright pink as he confesses, "Turns out I still love you. Stupid right? And all I want is for you to have everything you desire."

But I desire you. Hermione cries even harder, but the words she longs to shout at him get stuck in her throat. I want to marry you, but I can't ruin your life again.

"Anyway." Ron clears his throat and cuts into her attempts to tell him he's not got the wrong end of the broom. "I was hoping I could see you one more time before I go, b-before you get married. Aside from this moment, I mean."

"But I'm getting married tomorrow morning, Ron. That only leaves tonight and I'm watched like a hawk. I'm not sure I can—"

"I'll find a way. There has to be some benefits to working this closely with Kingsley, right?"

Ron withdraws his hand and takes a step back. There are so many words Hermione wants to say to him, but they won't spill out. Tonight. If she can get away, then she'll tell him everything tonight. Maybe there's something she can still do to make him stay. It's selfish, but she needs Ron in her life, even if it's only as a friend. Even though you want more with him.

He gives her one last look before turning and leaving the lawn. Hermione automatically goes to follow him, but before she can take more than one step, the sound of someone calling her name stops her.

"Hermione, it's time for lunch," Tonks says from the other side of the lawn, her voice softer than normal.

Has Tonks been here all this time? How much has she seen and heard? Probably all of it, given the sympathetic smile adorning her face as they watch Ron wander away together. Does everyone hate Nicholas? Does Tonks have the same thoughts as Ginny about the wedding? Why has nobody put a stop to this craziness before now?

There's no time to question Tonks. There's too much going on, and Hermione barely has five seconds to think. She has to find a way to escape her suite tonight. She has to see Ron again before he leaves.

Maybe it's not too late to change her path.