All of the characters and plots mentioned here belong to JK Rowling

Thanks to my beta kabg01

This chapter is dedicated to as thanks for the reviews and also as an apology for this chapter not being published quite as soon as I said it would be.

PS - thank you so much to everyone who let me know I'd posted the wrong chapter. Oops! Just checking you're paying attention :-)

In the end, it wasn't until Molly's birthday that they announced it to everyone. Hermione suspected that Ron had saved it until then to distract his mother from the unimaginative gift of a new pair of dragonhide oven gloves but after seeing the tears of joy streaking down the Weasley matriarch's face at the news, she felt glad they had waited, if a little bemused.

"Doesn't she know we're being forced into it?" she muttered out of the side of her mouth to Ron.

"Yeah but she reckons that we'll forget that soon enough and fall in love with each other," Ron whispered back, his mouth stretched in a rictus grin.

"She's just happy she won't have to wash your underpants any more, I suspect."

Molly had gone straight away to owl the good news to Bill and Fleur who were not arriving until the big party that evening.

"Hey!" Ron exclaimed, "I wash my own underpants, thank you very much!" at a raised eyebrow from Hermione he reddened, "Or at least, I send my laundry out to a washerwitch, and that's pretty much the same, isn't it? Or are you offering to do my laundry for me, once we're married?" he elbowed her as he sing-songed the words.

"I most certainly am not," Hermione struggled to keep her face straight.

Ron feigned surprise, "Keeping my clothes clean and presentable is just one of the many wifely duties you'll be expected to complete," He must have seen the look of shock on Hermione's face and realised what she thought he had been alluding to, because he blustered on, obviously keen to make her realise that he had only been talking about housework, "Surely Hermione Granger has mastered a simple laundry spell?"

"Well, as it happens, I believe very strongly in the creation of employment for less able….that is to say….it's good for the economy…"

"You send your washing out to be laundered too don't you!" Ron exclaimed.

"Shhh, just don't tell your mother," Hermione put her hand over his mouth to stop his overloud voice giving the game away. Ron just laughed, a great guffaw that flowed up from his belly, shocking Hermione into uncontrollable giggles. It was years since they had laughed together like this. It made her feel younger – lighter.

"When you've quite finished, we've got a lot of work to do before the party tonight," Molly tried to sound stern as she folded her arms over her chest but Hermione saw the look of delight at the two of them laughing together, that she wasn't quite able to hide.

Ron murmured, close to her ear, "She's going to be unbearable isn't she?"

"Oh yes," agreed Hermione.

It took several hours, a thorough degnoming of the garden, and Ron using almost every curseword in his extensive and imaginative range, but Mrs Weasley was finally happy with the house. She had even managed to find time to give Charlie the haircut he dreaded but had come to expect to receive every time he visited. Every surface gleamed, although the majority were now groaning under the weight of punch bowls, overflowing platters of food and cauldrons filled with sweets. George had disappeared for a good while into the top field and returned smelling strongly of gunpowder but had refused to tell anyone what he had been doing. Mr Weasley had enchanted pumpkins to float overhead, their grinning faces emitting a welcoming orange glow. Ginny had managed to add to the banners that she had previously made, wishing Molly a Happy Birthday so they now had "Ron and Hermione are Getting Married," tacked on to the bottom. She said it was easier than making a big announcement about it and that Ron would only make a prat of himself and accidentally insult Hermione if he had to give a speech.

As people started to filter in, they looked up at the signs and either nodded, or made some comment to their partner. No one shouted about what a terrible idea it was or that it was clearly a fake and as the room filled up, Hermione started to relax. Ron had insisted on staying by her side to act the part of the dutiful fiancé, in case anyone had any questions but other than a few congratulations, they had been left largely alone. Hermione suspected that was something to do with the fact that she had heard Molly tell Percy to give the lovebirds some peace and quiet, which had made her shake her head in disbelief at the matronly witch's persistence. Still, they had spent some time chatting to Harry and Ginny, which had reminded Hermione how well the four of them fit together, and Ron had been making her laugh with the low voiced commentary of what other people were doing that it hadn't been a complete disaster.

Aunt Muriel approached the pair of them, looking happy for once,

"Hermione, let me welcome you to the Weasley family. I always said Ronald was a fool to ever let you go and now it's put an end to him parading around in the papers with all of those glamorous bimbos. I always thought he was punching above his weight with you, especially now you've stopped slouching. Of course there's nothing you can do about the ankles but at least you can wear a full length dress robes for the wedding. I always think they look so much nicer than those common muggle wedding dresses.," Hermione smiled rigidly and gripped Ron's hand, aware that Muriel had managed to insult both of them in less than a minute.

"Thank you Muriel," She ground out from between her teeth but she needn't have bothered – the elderly witch carried on as though she hadn't spoken.

"You can have one of the Prewett family rings when you get married, of course. Fleur decided that she would rather wear her grandmother's wedding ring, I think it was something French looking and George's new wife, if that's what we're calling her, seeing as they haven't been married in the proper wizarding way, well she's got some muggle monstrosity. But Ronald will have to arrange for you to take a look at them in my vault at Gringotts," she paused as though expecting recognition for her magnanimity. Hermione was just about to thank her but Ron spoke for her,

"Thank you Aunt Muriel that's very kind of you but I'm not sure Hermione wants to wear a wedding ring at all."

Muriel looked horrified and Hermione could see her mentally amending her previous good opinion, "Oh, well. Harrumph! I'm sure that's all very….modern."

"Nonsense!" Hermione exclaimed frantically, "I'd love to have a look at them and of course I'll be wearing a wedding ring. I'm not sure what Ron's –" Ron was squeezing her hand very hard, in rapid bursts, presumably trying to warn her about something. In spite of her annoyance, Hermione was almost impressed – for Ron, that was quite subtle. Taking the hint, she backtracked wildly, "although Ron might be right. We haven't really discussed it. I've always enjoyed that muggle fashion of having matching tattoos instead of rings,"

Muriel's eyes bulged out of her head so far that Hermione thought they might pop as she choked and spluttered on the sip of firewhisky she had been taking. Ron took the moment of distraction to steer Hermione from the crowded room and onto the veranda. It was quiet and still outside, a chilly dampness draping the grass in dew. Hermione could see Teddy and George in the field, catching fireflies in a fishing net and putting them into a large jar.

"Don't you think we should have stayed to check she was alright?" she glanced back over her shoulder to see if she could see Muriel.

"You don't get to 114 years old without being able to look after yourself," Ron muttered, "besides. She was just about to really go into one. Tattoos, Hermione? Really?" They both burst into fits of laughter.

Hermione giggled weakly, holding her sides, "It was the first thing that came into my head! Are you going to tell me what all that was about anyway?"

Ron didn't answer immediately but his face turned more serious. He sat down on the step and pulled one of the small purple flowers from the flutterby bush, shredding it behind his fingers. Hermione sat down next to him and waited.

"We're going to need to be careful. When we get married, I mean. Wizarding marriages aren't like muggle marriages. Wizards are bonded for life. There's not really any such thing as wizard divorce, at least, not without petitioning the Ministry and even then it can be dangerous apparently," Hermione braced herself for one of Ron's apocryphal tales about someone like a great uncle who got a divorce and was never the same again and was not disappointed, "I heard of a man down in the village who divorced his wife and he died."

"Nothing to do with the poisoned ready meals she left in the freezer," Hermione scoffed.

"You can laugh all you like but you definitely shouldn't accept one of those rings. Bill went and took a look at them in Auntie Muriel's vault when him and Fleur were getting married. He said they've got old magic in them and there was no way Fleur was going to wear one,"

"What did they do?"

"He wasn't sure exactly but he could detect something to do with fidelity. Like if you had an affair, something nasty would happen to you. And lifelong commitment. He said that if Fleur wanted to run off and shag someone else, that was up to her and it wasn't for a piece of jewellery to run their marriage,"

"That sounds eminently sensible."

"I just thought…you know….well, you don't exactly want to be married to me. You don't even like me much. You might meet someone….and" Ron's voice was tight, like something was hurting him, "well, you know. Plus if you've set your mind to overturning the law, well, then I don't fancy the Ministry's chances of it standing for long. I wonder what will happen to all those married couples then."

"And the children," added Hermione morosely, her eyes on Teddy as she leaned her head against Ron's shoulder.

"Fucked up, isn't it," Ron sighed.

For a long moment they sat in a comfortable silence. It felt like a million years ago in another world since they had been able to do that last.

"I'm going to ask George to be my best man," Ron said at last.

"Not Harry?" Hermione looked over at the capering figure in the distance.

"I thought you'd want Harry to give you away," he glanced at her, almost nervous and Hermione was touched by his thoughtfulness until he added with a grin, "Harry can be my best man next time I get married."

Hermione huffed and stood up from the step, "Great. Good to know. Glad we had this chat. Now I'm going to check I didn't give Muriel a heart attack."

"I'm joking Hermione," he assured her, standing on the step below her so they were eye to eye. He was too close, Hermione's brain protested. She could see the flecks of navy in his blue eyes, smell the scent that instantly transported her to Slughorn's dungeon and a potion making competition. It terrified her.

"Well that's just it isn't it, this whole wedding's a joke, and then in a few months, or years, or whenever, when it's overturned you can just swan off and marry someone else and I'll be stuck with a load of Weasley kids."

Ron looked shocked, "Hermione, no matter what happened between you and me, I'd always stand by you if there were children involved, I'd want to be a part of their lives."

"Just not part of mine."

"Oh sweet Merlin! Is there any way on earth that I am going to be able to win this argument? Fine, let's wear the cursed rings and be stuck with each other for all eternity! Is that what you want? Only I seem to remember a witch that looked like you saying she'd rather be eaten alive by flesh eating slugs than spend another minute in my company."

Hermione reddened, remembering screaming that at him at the War Survivors Benefit. In the wake of their uneasy truce, she had started to forget those dark, agonising months when they had tried and failed to save their relationship, then tried and succeeded to destroy each other. All of a sudden, she remembered feeling so raw that she physically hurt – her heartache had taken on a tangible sensation and her entire body felt bruised and flayed. Even her magic had dimmed temporarily – something that had terrified her at the time. She had stopped being able to produce a Patronus at all, and even now could only create indistinct silvery wisps. She hadn't confided that fact to anyone and was deeply grateful that dementors had now been banished from Britain, rendering the chance of anyone discovering her secret small.

"Please let's not fight here, not with all these people around," she sighed. Ron touched her arm gently as he stumped inside, letting her know that no real harm had been done. Hermione tucked her hands inside her cardigan and watched George and Teddy who were now taking it in turns to roll down the hill.

"Nice night for it," Harry nodded over to the distant pair as he sat down beside her. Hermione could smell the spicy aroma of firewhisky on him but he seemed steady and his speech was clear.

"Oh, Harry. How are you? This can't be easy for you?" Hermione asked sympathetically, gesturing back to the hubbub of the party behind them.

"Nah, it's ok. I told Molly it was fine. It's not like I only miss my parents at Halloween, I miss them every day."

"Yes but you can hardly be in the mood for celebrating,"

"I don't know," his eyes were trained carefully on the horizon, "spending the night with my friends, my family" he took Hermione's hand and squeezed it tightly, "it seems like a bit of light in the darkness. After all, that's what my mother died for wasn't it – love. So what better way to thank her for it than being with the ones I love."

"Yes but –" Hermione couldn't help herself.

"It's not all about fighting, and being miserable and avenging them any more Hermione. The war's been won. This is our time to be happy – to live our lives."

"You always were better at accepting that than Ron or me," Hermione admitted sadly.

Harry laughed, "Well I don't like making a sport out of fighting, if that's what you mean."

"You're right, you're right," Hermione rested her head in her hands, "but lately, doesn't it feel like, well…we all just have parties all the time for every little thing the whole time. Like we're all on this constant cycle of celebrating the war being over. It'll be your wedding next. It just gets a bit tiring sometimes."

"Here, this should help," Harry summoned her a steaming cup of punch, "I know what you mean. It just doesn't seem real sometimes. Where's the drop of poison?"

"What do you mean?" Hermione sipped at her punch, confused.

"Just something Dumbledore said to me once, 'In every shining moment of happiness is that drop of poison: the knowledge that pain will come again. Sometimes I wake up in the night wondering when the pain's going to come again," Harry shook himself out of the memory of his beloved mentor.

"Dumbledore always did have a way with words didn't he," Hermione grimaced, "Far be it for me to be overdramatic, but isn't the pain me and Ron having to get married against our will? Other girls, being forced into marrying people they don't even know? The Ministry interfering in people having children? If it even is the Ministry!" she realised that she was becoming rather shrill and took another sip of punch.

"Do you believe there's more to it than just Ministry interference? I know you suspected Dark Wizards at the beginning."

"Kingsley did too," Hermione interjected crossly. This wasn't the first time they had discussed the matter. Harry had started to wonder whether they might have overreacted slightly at first, jumping to the conclusion that a dark plot was behind the ruling.

"Yes but Kingsley hasn't been able to find any evidence –"

"I don't care! It's fine for Kingsley, he's too old, it doesn't affect him. Just like it doesn't affect you. You said you believed me before, and you said you'd help me but I haven't seen a bit of it," she folded her arms across her chest.

"Alright, alright, I'm sorry. I've been shit. I've just been so caught up in planning the wedding, you know. I really mean it this time though," Harry held up his gloved hands defensively.

Hermione flashed him a grateful smile, "I know some people think I'm overreacting, but it just doesn't add up. Why are so many children of Death Eaters volunteering to marry mudbloods? Why is Umbridge involved in it, when she's spent the last few years tucked away in a dead end office job."

"Custodian of Office Supplies," Harry smirked.

"Exactly! So why has she gone from being in charge of the stationery cupboard to heading up such a major project? And where's Hazeldene sprung up from? I tell you Harry, when we went to Umbridge's office, I could practically feel Riddle in the room. And the room – something's not right about that either…I forgot, until now….there's just something, Harry. Something rotten about the whole thing,"

"I told you. I believe you."

"Really?" Hermione looked hopeful.

"There's been enough times that you've stuck by me when everyone thought I was going mad, or worse. If you want to try and uncover what's going on, I'll help you. I'm sorry I haven't taken it very seriously up til now. Like you said, I've just got caught up in all this –oooff" Harry was cut off as Hermione pulled him into a tight hug.

"Oi, keep your hands off my husband to be!" Ginny laughed, patting Hermione on the shoulder affectionately.

"Only two months to go until you won't be able to call me that anymore, "Harry grinned, as Ginny slipped down to the step below them to sit between his legs, leaning her head on his knee.

"It can't go quick enough," Ginny groaned, "Honestly, the sooner our wedding's over with and mum can start planning yours Hermione, the better. If I have to spend another minute looking at table plans, I swear….anyway, whatever the two of you are plotting, you'd better wrap it up. George just sent his patronus into the house to tell us all to come out here."

Sure enough, George and Teddy were at the top of the hill, waving to the people who were now filtering out of the house and filling the garden. In a flash of light and sound, the green and gold dragon shaped fireworks that Fred and George had so loved to make soared through the air, breathing plumes of bright pink and purple fire. As the magnificent display swelled to a crescendo Harry touched Hermione on the arm,

"I meant it you know. If there's anything funny going on, we will get to the bottom of it."

Hermione smiled at him before returning her attention to the fireworks, rubbing her hands up and down her arms to ward of the chill that the cup of warm punch had not quite assuaged. Without warning, the heavy warmth of an overcoat settled round her shoulders. She looked up to see Ron standing closely behind her, and couldn't help but raise her eyebrows in surprise at him.

"Watch the fireworks," he grinned, refusing to turn his face from the kaleidoscopic sky.