Disclaimer: None of this is mine

Massive MASSIVE thanks to my beta kabg01 for helping me get this chapter written.

The week between Christmas and New Year was normally a time for eating leftovers, wearing pajamas all day and watching old black and white films when Hermione had lived with her parents. She was even able to smile over the memory of the year that her and Ron had turned their bed into an enormous den of pillows and blankets, shut the floo off and only left the bedroom to go to the bathroom or the kitchen for three days. So the flurry of activity over the Burrow in between the two festive holidays felt like a confetti-spewing chiffon beast had taken up residence and had cast an Imperius over the other female members of the household, whipping the normally indolent time into a frenzy of flower arranging, dress making and other mysteries that Hermione doubted she would have enthused over even if her marriage had been genuine.

Whilst they were preparing ostensibly for Ginny and Harry's wedding, Mrs Weasley had deemed it more efficient to double up some tasks, producing two towering fruitcakes instead of one and ordering in champagne in sufficient quantities to drown even Hagrid. Hermione felt a twinge of guilt about the added expense, especially as in the Muggle world, the cost would traditionally fall to the father of the bride, but Molly waved away Hermione's offer of money and told her firmly that she was her daughter too, and she was going to have the best wedding that Molly and Arthur were able to provide. The guilt was what concealed the sighs of boredom as she stood on a chair and had her dress adjusted for what felt like hours, and forced her to give an opinion on whether she preferred white or blush pink roses.

"I don't see how you get out of it so lightly," she had complained to Ron and Harry after a long day transfiguring string into satin ribbon as they had tumbled into the kitchen, their cheeks flushed and their hair windblown from playing quidditch in the paddock, but they had just laughed and embarked on a list of fashion mistakes and social faux pas the other had made over the years, as though these were reason enough that they had been exempted from any kind of decision making capacity.

However, despite the boredom, the week sped by and it was soon time for Harry and Ginny to get married. The wedding itself was a quiet affair. Hermione had assumed that it would have been held in the Burrow, as seemed to be the Weasley tradition, but Ginny had insisted that they have it in the transfiguration courtyard at Hogwarts. She had said it was because it was easier to keep unwanted guests and the press out of Hogwarts than put all of the enchantments back over the Burrow but Hermione suspected that she had done it for Harry, who sometimes seemed to have been overwhelmed by the Weasley family. Harry loved having a family at last, but the castle had been the first place he had thought of as home. The fact that the courtyard only held fifty people, meaning that the difference in numbers between Harry and Ginny's families was less glaring, was an added bonus. They had the ceremony on New Year's Day, so the castle was empty of pupils but somebody had filled it with white lilies and hundreds of tiny twinkling lights.

Hermione and Luna were bridesmaids, both wearing diaphanous robes of a pale blue that reminded Hermione of the dress she had worn to the Yule Ball. She had wondered, when Ginny commented how much the colour suited her, with a wink, whether she too was remembering that the Yule Ball had been the first time that Hermione and Ron had really clashed over their feelings for each other.

As they walked up the aisle behind Ginny, Hermione stopped concentrating on trying to keep time with Luna's dancing step as she became was aware of Ron's eyes on her, looking like she was a cold drink of water at midday in the desert. It was all she could do not to trip over her own feet under his intense scrutiny. She had to drop her eyes to her bouquet as colour flooded to her cheeks and her heart pounded in her chest. It wasn't that he looked like he approved of her dress or thought she made a pretty bridesmaid – he looked hungry. The thought thrilled her more than she felt it should and heat flooded through her despite the coolness of the winter afternoon. Throughout the ceremony she had to train her attention on Harry and Ginny, their beautiful, romantic, honest vows, just to stop herself from sneaking glances at Ron again, almost fearful that he would still be looking at her like that and what she would do if he was.

After the ceremony they headed to the Great Hall for the wedding breakfast and crowded onto the Gryffindor table as the house elves sent up piling dishes of sausages and mash, meat pies, buttered vegetables, stew and cottage pie. It felt strange to be sitting there and not be deep in conversation with Harry and Ron, or to have a book propped against the pepper pot.

"That was lovely wasn't it," Luna interrupted Hermione's thoughts with her strange otherwordly tones.

Hermione smiled warmly at her friend, glad of a distraction from the man that she knew was sitting just a few places down from her, "A really beautiful ceremony, yes. And how are you Luna? I feel like I haven't seen you for ages. I only get to read the reports you send in – it sounds fantastic over there," Luna had become a sort of colleague of Hermione's after she had received funding from the Ministry to travel to Borneo and study the indigenous magical creatures of the rainforests. With a little prodding in the right direction, the dreamy blonde had been convinced to study actual living creatures rather than mythical beasts, and had taken to it marvellously.

"Not since the Memorial ceremony. Perhaps we'll only ever meet at Hogwarts now. But the rainforest's absolutely amazing. I've just started studying a tribe of Griffins. I think they might let me see their nest soon,"

Hermione pursed her lips and reminded herself that her friend was an accomplished naturalist and didn't need telling that it was breeding season for Griffins at the moment and that luring humans to their nests was one of the ways they fed their inordinately hungry chicks.

"It's nice to see that you and Ron are back together, your auras didn't look right when you weren't talking to each other," Luna mused, helping herself to a Yorkshire pudding.

"Oh no –" Hermione forced a laugh that felt dry and unnatural in her throat, "not really. Remember, I told you in my letter, about the marriage law. That we're having to act like a couple…"

She trailed off. Luna didn't seem to be listening anyway. She squinted at Hermione for a long while, tilting her head to the side. Hermione was almost surprised that she didn't get out those strange glasses that she used to wear. Then she leaned backwards and peered owlishly down the row at Ron before turning back, an apologetic smile on her face,

"I'm sorry, I didn't realise you didn't know. I just assumed by the way you were undressing each other with your eyes during the ceremony,"

Hermione almost choked on a bite of carrot at Luna's bald statement.

"I can assure you we were doing nothing of the sort!" she started, sounding pompous even to her ears, "but what do you mean – what don't I know?"

Luna smiled serenely, "That you're falling back in love with each other, of course," then her protuberant eyes grew even wider and she clapped her hands with glee as the plates disappeared, to be replaced with mountainous desserts, "oh goody, pudding! I love pudding,"

After the remains of dinner had been vanished and the tables levitated to the side, the music had started. Hermione had danced with every male member of the Weasley family with one notable exception. Ron hadn't even tried to talk to her all evening, Hermione realised crossly, as she grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. It wasn't as if she expected him to spend the evening by her side but a simple 'you look nice,' wouldn't have gone amiss. She scanned the room angrily for him, half determined to go and give him a piece of her mind, but he was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps he had gone home. Good. She didn't want to dance with him anyway – not with his stupid hair, and stupid charcoal grey dress robes that fitted him perfectly, and especially not his stupid, stupid arms that wrapped round you so completely and….Merlin, she was in trouble.

She pressed the cool goblet to her cheek. Deciding that some fresh air might stop her head spinning, she headed for the now deserted courtyard. She was just admiring the enchanted fairy lights when she realised that she wasn't alone. Leaning up against the wall in the shadows, firewhisky glass in hand, was Ron. She took half a step backwards, hoping to creep away before he had seen her but he raised his tumbler in greeting and she was forced to plaster a smile on her face and join him.

"Lovely ceremony wasn't it," she offered, her voice crackling with false brightness. He just nodded in response, watching her closely. His gaze felt like a beacon, roving over her skin.

The silence was just starting to prickle with awkwardness when Ron spoke, "Sorry I didn't dance with you. You know what I'm like – two left feet – I'd have probably stamped all over your toes," he took another sip of his drink and gazed up to the sky, allowing a thin plume of steamy breath to drift upwards.

"It's alright, you don't have to feel obligated."

Ron nodded, his lips set into a thin line. Hermione felt a tiny stab of disappointment in her stomach.

"Should we –" she was going to ask if he wanted to go back inside but he spoke at the same time, "we could –" They both laughed nervously and Hermione gestured that he could go first.

"I was, er, just going to say, we could have a dance now, if you wanted?" he muttered stiffly.

"Out here?"

"You're right, it's a stupid idea," Ron scowled, and pushed himself off the mossy stone wall to return to the party.

Hermione clenched her fingers tightly, "ok then."

He stopped in his tracks, eyeing her questioningly, before holding out his hand for her.

The music drifted softly out of the Great Hall as she took his hand and he placed his other loosely on her waist. She could barely hear the music over the whooshing of the blood in her ears and he didn't seem able to meet her eyes but they managed a few twirling circles of the courtyard together. As much as Ron had proclaimed himself a terrible dancer, he was nothing of the sort and slowly she started to relax against him. They caught each other's eye and were both suddenly overcome with giggles that dissolved into something more intense, more serious, their gazes locked on one another.

Hermione suddenly became very aware of her breathing, which felt like it was coming in great noisy gusts. The corner of Ron's mouth quirked up into a crooked, curious grin that somehow was impossible for her to look away from. His hand tightened on her waist.

All of a sudden George popped his head out of the door, "There you are! Everyone's looking for the pair of you. Harry and Ginny are waiting to leave! Of course if you'd rather I could just tell them you're too busy smooching…"

Hermione and Ron both hurried after his retreating form, their faces an identical shade of red.

oOoOoOo

With Ginny and Harry out of the Burrow on their honeymoon, and Hermione needing to be there more than ever to plan the wedding, she knew it would seem churlish to ask Ron when he was going to be there so they could avoid each other but it felt like they were together almost constantly. It wasn't that she disliked being with him – the anger that she had felt for him for so long had all but dissolved in the wake of their discussions about it – but the more time she spent with him, the more difficult it became to avoid talking about the future.

It was less than a week before the big day and Ron and Hermione had been folding napkins for what felt like forever. Ron had attempted a few by magic but Molly had sniffed at his sloppy wandwork, "If you haven't taken the time to refine your household spells while you've been out living on your own, then you'll have to do them the muggle way," and swept off to speak to Marmaduke Millimant who had arrived with the marquee.

Ron had looked at Hermione for help but she just had just shrugged and started folding.

"I'd have thought you'd have this sort of thing down easily, I can never get the little wiggle right at the end," Ron waved his wand over a napkin again.

Hermione giggled, "That looks more like a hippogriff than a swan. No, funnily enough, of all the extra lessons I took at Hogwarts, forming tableware into the shape of aquatic birds wasn't one of them."

Ron shook out the crumpled napkin resignedly and began again by hand, "And you said you send your washing out. I'm beginning to think you're as hopeless around the house as me,"

"Ron, we lived together. For two years! You know I just prefer to do housework the muggle way," even as she said it, she felt the pain of acknowledging that happier time resurface from the deep place she had buried it under piles of anger and blame. Memories of doing the washing up, being elbow deep in bubbles, only to have Ron sneak up behind her and slip his arms round her waist, swam blurrily from the back of her mind. Doing the dusting with a long handled feather duster wearing the ridiculously frilly negligee that Ron had bought her for the task as he felt up her bottom every time she reached into the high spots.

"Oh yeah," he reddened slightly and Hermione wondered, as their eyes met, whether they were sharing the same memories, "I forget about that sometimes."

"It's easier not to think about it, isn't it," she admitted, trying to keep her hands steady enough to fold yet another blasted swan.

"I like to pretend that they were different people sometimes. It makes it easier. Then when I think of it, it's almost like watching a play or something,"

Hermione patted his knee absently, wondering whether now was the right moment to bring up some of the happier times they had shared. Although they had been getting on much better, she felt that their past, whilst they both refused to acknowledge it too directly, was still a massive barrier between them. She felt cowardly and it rankled with her, that she was avoiding mentioning anything until after the wedding in order to avoid anything jeopardising the fragile peace between them.

She was saved from her dilemma by a sharp rap at the door and the sound of raised voices in the hallway. After a brief scuffle, Delores Umbridge burst into the room, looking visibly disappointed at the scene of mundane domesticity before her. Perhaps she had been hoping to find them absent, or even better, in the process of fleeing. Hazeldene sauntered in after her, tipping his bowler hat in greeting, with a red faced Molly hot on his heels, her arms folded in disapproval.

"Aurelius," Hermione greeted him demurely, her hand still on Ron's knee. Umbridge bristled at the snub to her but seeing as she hadn't made any effort to greet them, she could hardly complain.

"Is there some emergency at the Ministry? Or a last minute problem with our marriage? I'm puzzled what would bring the Head of the Betrothals and Marriages Office here, unannounced," Hermione smiled blandly as she enunciated the last word.

"Oh no," Hazeldene smiled, "I'm just here to chaperone Delores. She seemed to be a little concerned about her safety, coming here to see you," he turned away again, unsuccessfully trying to hide the look of amusement on his face.

Umbridged huffed impressively, seeming for a moment to be less enamoured with her boss than usual.

"I merely wanted to come and make sure that the plans for your, hem, happy union are going well and that there aren't any last minute problems anticipated?" she clasped her hands together expectantly. Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes. Honestly, the woman was about as subtle as a sledgehammer.

"Well you can see that they are, so unless you want to help us fold napkins, you can bugger off," Ron seemed to have also taken the line that whilst Hazeldene was to be treated with at least the semblance of respect, Umbridge was fair game.

"Ronald Weasley, might I remind you –" Umbridge drew herself up to her full height, which admittedly was not very much, especially in contrast to Ron, who stood up to tower over her.

"Walk with me a moment?" Hazeldene smiled his duplicitous smile at Hermione. She nodded in acknowledgement and followed him to the garden. Although he had phrased his request as a question, acceptance was the only acceptable answer. Ron grabbed her hand as she went to go but she just squeezed his in acknowledgement then dropped it. The thought of him being left finishing the conversation with Umbridge tickled her more than it should. They walked in silence through the dewy grass for a moment, Hazeldene seeming to greatly enjoy regarding the first shoots of spring struggling through the moribund remains of last year's flowers.

"Ah, the cycle begins again. Rebirth after death. The phoenix rising from the ashes. Nothing more vital, is there Miss Granger?" he crouched down, inhaling deeply the earthy scent of the flower bed.

Hermione just stood and waited, her hands in her pockets, her jaw jutting sullenly. She wasn't sure if he was making a point or simply passing pleasantries while the action her mind should be on was inside the house. Whatever the reason, she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of engaging. Eventually, seeming satisfied, Aurelius stood, unfolding his long skinny legs and brushing invisible dirt from the knees of his pinstripe suit.

"People say you're the brightest witch of your age," he eyed her as though she was a mere curiosity, making her bristle fiercely, "I've even heard that you might be the next Minister for Magic,"

"I've heard the same about you," Hermione acknowledged grudgingly, and something passed wordlessly between them - that this appraisal was about more than career ambition. It was Hazeldene's way of telling her that he had marked her out for special attention, "people talk," she finished coldly, with a shrug of her shoulders that suggested that she didn't listen to such gossip.

"Like it here?" he waved his arm back over the Weasleys' land, and even his light conversational tone didn't ease the prickle of unease that Hermione felt. "You must do if you're getting married here," he stood and idly watched the marquee being erected in the paddock. Hermione watched silently along with him, refusing to talk until she was more sure of what point he was trying to make.

"I must admit," he continued, still pleasantly, "that I was a little surprised that your Mr Weasley agreed to marry you so quickly. Then I realised that perhaps he's not quite like you and I. He doesn't always look before he leaps. Doesn't always stop to think of the consequences – the ripples on the pool after he throws a stone into the depths. Not like you – you know the consequences of what you're doing don't you. Not just to him, to his whole family."

All of a sudden Hermione realised that even in his proclamation of her as "bright", he had underestimated her, and the thought of it made her want to laugh wildly in his face, but she allowed herself just the merest tight lipped smile, "You've come to warn me that if I try any funny business – meddle too much in the law or try and get out of it, then Ron's the one who will suffer, along with me? Perhaps more than just Ron. "

Hazeldene just cocked his head to the side, an invitation to finish her line of thought.

"As though I haven't known that from the moment he agreed to marry me?" she laughed now, just a sorrowful huff of air, "Did you know that I was tortured by Death Eaters in the war?" she asked conversationally, leading him now deeper into the garden. If Hazeldene was surprised by the change of subject, he didn't show it, perhaps used to circuitous discussions where no one quite said what they meant. "They tortured me for information but I didn't crack. Because I am a fighter – do you understand?"

"I believe I do, Miss Granger,"

"I knew that my friends were in the cellar and their lives depended on me keeping my mouth shut, even when the flames were eating me from the inside out. I didn't crack then and I'm not going to now. So you don't have to make vague threats to Ron or his family to make me behave because if I didn't already know it without you telling me, why would I still be here? By your own admission, I'm a bright witch, I could hide myself so you could never find me. I've done it before, from more powerful wizards than you. But I'm still here, folding napkins into swans, because Ron jumped into this mess with both feet to protect me and I'm going to do the same for him,"

"An admirable sentiment." Aurelius smiled at her, his eyes skittering away from hers as though she had dirt on her face and he didn't know how to point it out. Without acknowledging her outburst in any way, he turned on his heel and headed back to the house.

Umbridge was waiting for them at the back gate, her demeanor smug and satisfied once more, "Just so as you're aware, Ms Granger, a healer from St Mungo's will be dropping in the morning after your wedding to make sure that everything is in order," she clutched her pink leather handbag, smiling primly and Hermione was just grateful that she didn't wink or nudge her with her elbow to drive home the point.

Hermione and Ron exchanged twin looks of horror as the two Ministry Officials apparated away, their mission apparently complete.

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