Sorry it's been so long since I posted a chapter - I am definitely continuing this story and will be returning to posting a chapter every week or so, I just got way too busy over the Christmas holidays. Thank you for all the kind reviews I've had in the meantime.
I feel a bit like the end of the last chapter was the end of act one, now we're moving into act two - I hope you enjoy.
The first thing Hermione noticed as she entered the courtyard was that the tiny wizard that served as minister for all manner of official occasions had new robes. With the huge increase in wizarding weddings, he was probably coining it in, she thought cynically. The likely explosion in marriage ceremonies that he had been tasked with officiating would shortly be followed by naming ceremonies.
Everyone was standing looking at her, she saw her friends smiling encouragingly, Hagrid in the back, already needing to wipe his eyes on a dirty looking handkerchief, Neville hand in hand with Hannah Abbott who he had recently started dating. As she took her first nervous steps down the aisle, Ron stood resolutely with his back to her. It wasn't until she had passed the first couple of rows of seats that he turned to look at her. His face split into a wide, appreciative beam that Hermione thought looked almost genuine. A rush of gratitude and relief overtook her and she returned the smile. She took another few steps, past the sea of red hair that denoted the Weasley contingent, past Minerva McGonagall who was looking a little pink around the eyes but smiling with matriarchal pride.
Ron had had a haircut, she noticed, his fringe not falling quite so shaggily into the blue eyes that matched his deep navy dress robes so well. A flutter of something that felt like the champagne bubbles she'd sipped earlier fizzed away inside her as she reached the top of the aisle to stand next to him. Ron reached out and gripped the tips of her clammy fingers reassuringly with his dry warm hand.
The little wizard nodded questioningly at her to check that she was ready to start before addressing the crowd and she nodded back. There wasn't going to be any last minute reprieve, no lynx patronus arriving to tell her that the law had been dropped even though she had made Kingsley promise that he would send one on the off chance it should happen in the hours preceding the ceremony. She really was going to be married to Ron. The boy whose name she had doodled in runes on her text books. The man who broke her heart in ways that she wouldn't have even thought possible. They were going to be linked and nothing would ever be the same again. Screwing up her courage, she nodded in agreement and he looked up to address their audience.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, we are gathered here today to witness and celebrate the joining of two souls in magical matrimony.
"Do you Ronald Bilius take Hermione Jean?" Ron took a heavy swallow, his Adams apple bobbing up and down above the collar of his dress robes, then cleared his throat once, twice before nodding curtly.
"I do," he confirmed, with a quick squeeze of her hand in his.
The tiny wizard then turned his attention to her "Do you, Hermione Jean, take Ronald Bilius?" he quavered.
This was the bit she had to say yes, she knew it was. So why was her mouth clamped shut, her teeth gritted together? Why was she shifting her weight onto the balls of her feet, as if to flee? The urge to shake her head back and forth was almost dizzyingly overwhelming. She glanced guiltily at Ron, saw him watching her, his blue eyes wide and trusting.
"I do," she choked out.
Does anyone here have any objections to this union? A nervy giggle rippled across the assembled guests as the pause stretched out for an agonising moment. A flicker of movement at the back of the tent made Hermione jump, her heart leaping up queasily to her throat, but it was just a balloon drifting in the breeze. She had to bite back hysteria at the thought of Draco charging in and objecting.
The elderly wizard nodded, satisfied that he had given people a fair chance to speak up and a tiny piece of the knotted tension in Hermione's shoulders eased. No one was going to stand up and shout out that they shouldn't be getting married, that it was all a sham.
"Then I declare you bonded for life," he waved his wand with a triumphant flourish and glittering confetti rained down upon them. Hermione was a little confused. She had been to magical weddings before and never noticed any magic but after the betrothal spell she had assumed that some magic must take place that was invisible to onlookers. It had just been words though, and she was unchanged. A double helix of relief and anti-climax swirled around inside her. The guests seemed to be waiting for something too – their applause was thin and uncertain. Had it not worked, she wondered. Could the marriage spell somehow weed out frauds, like a romantic version of a thief's downfall? Her brow furrowed slightly and she looked to the minister for reassurance. He too looked slightly nervous and was waggling his eyebrows at her and nodding towards Ron urgently.
She turned to look at Ron and saw he was grinning at her. She made a tiny shrug with her shoulders and he rolled his eyes amusedly before inclining his head down to her. Embarrassed realisation crashed over her like a tidal wave, that she had forgotten this part.
She felt as much as heard him murmuring to her gently against her lips, his voice little more than a low rumble, "I'm going to kiss you now."
Hermione nodded as she took in a sharp intake of breath. His hand slid to the small of her back, she could feel it warm and heavy, heating her skin through the thin fabric of her dress.
As his lips brushed feather soft against hers, she felt it, the sharp jolt of her magic tugging at her, eager for the connection, urging her to deepen the kiss.
Then it was like a dam breaking - just a trickle at first before her magic burst joyously out of her and flowed into him and his magic poured just as irresistibly into her and it was like molten lava, all hot and golden and unstoppable, flowing between them. Her fingers tightened around his arm and his other hand was in her hair, pulling her closer, pinning her to him.
She could hear everyone cheering and clapping but it was tinny and distant above the roar of magic in her ears. Somehow she was above the scene, watching herself kissing Ron for all she was worth, and at the same time she was very tiny, existing only in the point where their lips met. Gradually the cheers turned to giggles and their magic calmed and they pulled away from each other, Ron smiled sheepishly at her, his mouth pink with lipstick and kissing. Then he raised their joined hands above his head, cheering to their guests as though he had won the Quidditch cup.
oOoOoOo
"Thought for a minute you weren't going to go through with it there," Harry laughed quietly in relief as he handed her a glass of champagne, "I didn't fancy being the one to have to tell Ron his bride had done a bunk,"
They both looked at Ron who was still looking slightly dazed and having his hand pumped vigorously up and down by Hagrid, "I'm sure he would have been delighted,"
Harry gave her the same knowing look that he had made before the ceremony, "I saw the way he was looking at you during the ceremony, the way he kissed you,"
"It's just for show," Hermione dismissed him shortly. However, his grin over his glass just increased, particularly when her cheeks started to flush,
"Hermione. There isn't any press here, or Ministry Officials. Only your close friends and family, who know the full story. Just who exactly is the show for? Who do you think needed fooling that you had to snog for quite that long?"
"Oh – just…" Hermione spluttered, at a loss for anything more sensible to say, as she swatted Harry on the arm, "I told you; this isn't going to have some fairytale happy ending,"
Harry grew serious at last, "About what you said to me before, about the fight you had. It's a bit like Dumbledore isn't it. He knew the power of love because he had hurt a loved one. You two know now how badly you can hurt each other, so you can be careful not to do it again,"
"I'm sure the law will be overturned soon," Hermione sighed, looking again to her husband, who was now being given a glass of something ominously bright green by George. As if she had called his name, he looked over to her and smiled widely.
"Just…be careful. With Ron. I'm not sure he's quite as pragmatic as you think. I think this might have become something else for him. And out of interest, just what were you thinking of back there to calm yourself down? It was quite the transformation,"
Hermione went a bit pink and bit back a smile, "I was imagining what I would do to Umbridge if I had her there at that moment," she attempted, and failed to look contrite.
Harry burst out laughing at her confession, which in turn set Hermione off.
"I'd pay good money to see that," Harry chuckled, "Now, if you'll excuse me, there's a bridesmaid over there that I need to go and chat up," Ginny waved to the pair of them from where she was dancing madly with Luna.
Hermione felt strangely detached from the whole scene as she watched the whirling couples on the dance floor and the small groups of people around the outside, chatting happily. It reminded her of the feeling during the ceremony of watching from afar. She was just wondering if she could sneak out and go back to the Burrow for a cup of tea when she saw Ron approaching holding two glasses of champagne. Nerves fluttered horribly in the pit of her stomach as he grinned easily at her and she longed for Harry's invisibility cloak so she could get away from him. It was all too much – the kiss, what Harry had said – all just too much. Like she was being wrapped up in a great big blanket of Ron-ness and, well, she may as well admit it to herself, it terrified her. That she might get wrapped up in it forever. Worse, that she might forget that she ever wanted to get out. She'd get all comfortable and then bam, he'd rip it away like he had before.
"You look like you've been hit with a bludger," he handed her a glass and leant up against one of the posts holding up the marquee, thankfully a decent distance away from her as she wasn't sure her jangling nerve endings would be able to stand having him too close, "It's all a bit much isn't it," he made a sweeping gesture with his arm that encompassed everything in the marquee, themselves included. However, he didn't seem to require a response and was happy to just stand and watch the dancers too, as they sipped the champagne.
Although she had told him countless times already, somehow, being at their wedding made her feel newly entitled to repeat herself, "thank you," she murmured, tilting her glass to him.
His nose wrinkled in confusion, "Well, the waiter did most of the work - I just snatched a couple of glasses off the tray as he walked past."
"Not for the champagne," she snorted in laughter, "for marrying me!"
"Oh yeah! I'd almost forgotten it wasn't real. Huh," Ron frowned, puzzled, "I suppose I'd always thought this would be what my wedding would be like anyway."
"What, even down to the choice of bride?"
"I suppose. I mean, I've never thought about marrying anyone else, it was always you, so, yeah, I guess,"
Hermione took a sharp intake of breath but in contrast, Ron seemed completely matter of fact, as though he were merely discussing the weather.
"You look nice. Oh bloody hell. I mean…not just nice. Beautiful."
He didn't quite manage to hide a glance over to the dance floor to make sure his sister wasn't in earshot.
"Ginny got to you too?"
"So did mum. And Bill. But only Ginny threatened the removal of body parts. You do look beautiful though,"
"And you look very handsome," Hermione smiled primly, reaching out and brushing her fingertips over his buttonhole and gasping in delight as the white rose bud bloomed under her finger tips, its petals furling outwards. She looked at Ron to see if he'd noticed but he was just looking a bit too smug.
"Why Ronald Weasley," she giggled, "have you got…moves?"
Ron laughed, "Oh you haven't even seen the start of my moves, just you wait. I've got moves that'll knock your socks off!"
Hermione blushed at the thought of what moves Ron might be thinking about showing her and he must've realised what was going through her mind because he too reddened and stammered out an apology, "I didn't mean those kind of moves!"
"Do you think if we both just admit that this is all a bit awkward, it'll stop feeling like it is?" Hermione asked.
They stood in contemplative silence for a moment, sipping their champagne. Hermione could help herself wondering whether Ron had learnt any of 'those kind of moves' during their time apart. Whilst she had certainly had no complaints about their sex life before, and she found the thought of him with all of those other women distasteful, she couldn't help but be curious if he would kiss differently, touch her differently. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut to try and block out the salacious slideshow of memories that her mind had chosen to dredge up and show to her.
"No, I don't think so do you?" grimaced Ron.
"Nope, definitely still awkward," agreed Hermione, nodding her head enthusiastically.
"Want to dance?" Ron gestured to their friends who were jumping around, following Luna's lead as she bopped up and down, seemingly to a completely different rhythm to the lively song playing.
"Absolutely," Hermione sighed in relief that they wouldn't have to continue the conversation any longer.
However, it seemed that fate was not going to make it that easy for them and the moment they reached the centre of the dance floor, the song ended, making way for a slow number. Schmaltzy music piped through the air and judging by the way that Molly leapt out of her seat with surprising sprightliness, dragging Arthur behind her, it was a Celestina Warbeck number. Hermione glanced around in panic and saw Ginny melt into Harry's arms and Luna whirling around happily on her own.
"Want to dance, wife?" Ron offered his hand to her.
"You're very brave calling me that when your feet will be in stamping distance for the next three to five minutes," she retorted, allowing him to lead her around the dance floor.
They turned around on the floor, Ron maintaining a polite distance from her, his hands on her shoulder and waist so lightly she could barely feel them, as he gazed off into the middle distance.
Eventually Hermione couldn't bear it any more, "What is it?" she snapped, nudging him none too gently with her elbow.
"Well if I can't call you my wife, and you won't be Mrs Weasley, what am I supposed to call you?" Ron replied, a sulky petulance colouring his tone.
Hermione sighed, "We've been over this! I don't want to lose my name. It's easier for work if I stay Granger. Plus I'm not a set of school robes, I don't need your name spelled into my collar in case I get lost and need returning to you. Just call me the evil harpy or the she-devil like you normally do when you're talking about me."
"I never –" Ron coloured angrily, "Oh ha ha. Don't put words in my mouth. It just seems odd to me, that's all, wizarding families are much more traditional. It's just not normal."
"Well this isn't a normal marriage is it?"
"No, I suppose not. Sorry. I know things are different for muggles but you and Harry have given up all your other muggle stuff so much that I sometimes forget. I'm not meaning to be an arse about it. Let's just forget I said anything," but he looked a bit sad as he said it and Hermione remembered what Harry had said about Ron's feelings. Then she thought about how he had gone along with getting married to her almost without argument and, with a grinding, grudging, hateful feeling that she might have to back down in an argument, decided to give him this at least.
"How about Ms Granger-Weasley? You can stay Mr Weasley – you don't have to take my name or anything!" she finished hurriedly.
Ron's face brightened, "Yeah, I like that."
Then Charlie tapped her on the shoulder and asked if he could have a turn dancing with his new sister, and Ron said he had better dance with his mum, so they parted. But when Hermione looked across the dance floor at him, he was still grinning at her over the top of his mum's head.
oOoOoOo
All too soon, guests were kissing them goodbye, pressing their hands with congratulations, having seemingly forgotten in the whirl of confetti and music that the wedding wasn't real. Hermione didn't want the evening to end, not because it would signal the passing of the happiest day of her life, as some brides might feel, but because she was dreading what must surely come next. When there were only a handful of people milling around – Hagrid sat in deep conversation with Charlie, who held an endless fascination for him; Harry and Ginny still dancing to the softly playing music; Molly and Arthur, looking tired but happy as they sat hand in hand, content to survey the scene before them. Hermione started a few absent waves of her wand, setting right a chair that had been knocked over and stacking glasses neatly on a tray, before Ron came wandering towards her.
"Do you think we should…erm…" he trailed off, swallowing visibly, before inclining his head towards the house. She knew what he meant. Of course she did. Even without Ron's lack of subtlety, the thing that they had to do had been weighing heavily on her mind. In typical fashion they had not discussed the events that they both knew must follow their wedding, other than a passing agreement that they would spend the night in the Burrow.
Just the thought of lying next to Ron in his now magically enlarged bed, with the sporting heroes of his youth staring down disapprovingly from their now curled and faded Chudley Cannons poster, with Mr and Mrs Weasley in the room down the hall and Harry and Ginny on the floor below made her toes curl with shame and her lady parts desiccate.
"Just five more minutes," she sighed, her brow furrowed as she syphoned red wine out of a tablecloth, playing for time.
Ron reached out, and just pressed the tips of his fingers to the back of her free hand for a second, "OK, reckon I'll just get a bit more to eat, mum's done enough for an army. We could camp out in this marquee for a week and not run out of food. Perhaps we could hide in here in the morning when the Ministry Official comes."
Hermione's face lit up in delight, "Oh Ron, that's brilliant! I could kiss you!" she whirled around, reinvigorated, transfiguring the now clean tablecloth into a bag, summoning all manner of things to her so quickly that Ron could see little more than blurs disappearing into the bag.
"Well, we are married now, I don't suppose that would be….hey, are they my trousers?" Ron watched as a procession of his clothes zipped across the garden from the house.
Hermione looked apologetically to Molly and Arthur who had come over to see what had caused the flurry of activity, "I'm so sorry. You might have some questions to answer tomorrow when the Ministry Official comes calling. Not that they should complain, they wanted us to do this wedding properly. But, still, they won't be happy," in response to Molly's questioning look, she elaborated, "We're going on honeymoon," before grabbing Ron tightly by the arm and disapparating.