Ron's heart pounds as he whirls around the shiny dance floor with his new wife. It's almost in time with the music. Today has been marvellous — a whirlwind of photographs, well wishes and delicious food.

Hermione looks beautiful today. Her usual mess of brown curls have been magically transformed into long, luxurious waves. She picked a classic cut, plain white dress — nothing too fancy — but Ron's jaw hit the floor when she appeared at the end of the short aisle that had been set up in the orchard at the bottom of the Burrow. She looked how he'd pictured she would ever since he got down on one knee and proposed, and somehow, even more beautiful than he'd imagined.

Songs morph into each other, and yet he doesn't notice. He's vaguely aware that their guests might think them rude — they should probably be spending time talking to the small number of attendees that the happy couple had invited to the quiet ceremony. But Ron cannot tear himself away from his wife.

Until a dark-haired man appears in Ron's peripheral. The specky git clears his throat and taps Ron on the shoulder simultaneously.

"I think you've hogged Hermione for long enough. Do I get a chance to dance with my sister at some point this evening?" he asks, mirroring the words Ron muttered to them only two years ago.

Ron doesn't want to agree, he doesn't want to be apart from Hermione for too long, but he reluctantly relinquishes his hold on her and passes her hand to Harry. "Okay, but don't keep her for too long."

The redhead watches them spring away, huge smiles on their faces. A happy sigh escapes his lips, and he turns to survey the rest of the party. Everyone is paired off, enjoying the music and the leftovers from the massive buffet. Ron considers having a rest or getting one of his brothers to buy him a pint when his eyes settle on one of their guests of honour, who is currently sitting at a table by herself.

The idea hits him quickly, and his smile grows even wider, causing his cheeks to ache, but it's worth it. He travels across the dancefloor in three giant strides and offers his hand out to the elderly witch.

"Headmistress McGonagall, would you care to dance with me? For old time's sake."

The Professor eyes him up and down, appraising him with tightly drawn lips. It makes Ron feel fourteen years old and back in school. He nervously adjusts the collar of his muggle tuxedo and then his tie. There's a strict no magic policy here tonight so that Hermione's family can be involved. He gulps, but then relief washes over him as McGonagall's eyes light up.

"Will you step on my toes or be scared to hold me this time?" She raises her eyebrows, as sharp-witted as ever.

"No...uhm...Hermione made me practice."

It's true; the couple has had five years of practice since they first got together after the Battle of Hogwarts. And they've spent most of their relationship so far dancing—at other people's weddings, at the club on nights out and in the living room of the tiny flat they share when they're alone.

"Oh good. Then yes, please, Mr Weasley."

Minerva takes Ron's offered hand and allows him to pull her to her feet. He tightens his grip and leads her into the centre of the dancefloor. He's no longer the fourteen-year-old, and he's not embarrassed to be seen dancing with her this time, even though George wriggles his eyebrows at them as they pass him.

Now Ron only feels pride.

They sway in time to the music, making small talk as they move. For an older woman, she dances just as well as Hermione does.

"I don't say this about very many of my students. But I'm impressed with how you've grown up, Ronald. Miss Granger must be very proud to have you as a husband. I have been rooting for the pair of you since you were young. " Her back is as rigid as ever, and she holds herself with pomp and confidence, but a smile graces her lips.

"Mrs Weasley-Granger now." Ron puffs his chest out, a pleasant heat filling his cheeks. He's received the Order of Merlin, First Class, he's on a chocolate frog card, and he's just been promoted to Senior Auror. But marrying Hermione is definitely one of his proudest moments.

"Kingsley says your Auror career is heading in a brilliant direction too. Apparently, your strategy skills are in high request for missions."

"Yeah, well, I've had good practice, haven't I? You still owe me another game of chess, Headmistress. You need to get a chance to beat me finally." He gives her a cheeky grin.

"Alas," she smiles back. "I've still not gotten over the last time you defeated one of my games of chess."

The pair laugh, and he gives her a spin before placing his hand gently on her waist.

Although he's heard countless amounts of people tell him that he's doing well, the words don't always sink in. But hearing it from his old Professor, a witch who always so harsh and scathing towards him (in a caring way), he starts to think that maybe he should start believing in it.

Ron watches as Harry gives up his spot in Hermione's arms and passes her willingly to Arthur, and his heart fills with love.

Yes, he definitely will start believing in it.