CH 70: The Ball
(A/N: Confession – I wrote this a while back and only recently remembered that Mothering Sunday in England is celebrated three weeks before Easter, not in May like in the States. But, by the time I realized this, it was too late to move this chapter to March as I had already posted the wedding chapters. So, I apologize – but please join me in pretending that they celebrate it in May. Sorry! -carrytheotter)
"Ron, can I ask you something?" asked Hugo as the two worked pulling weeds in the backyard on the Saturday morning after the anniversary.
"Of course, Hugo. You can always ask me anything. What's up?"
"Well, at school our teacher said we would be making something for Mothering Sunday next weekend. I was thinking I would give it to Hermione. But is that enough? I wasn't really sure what to do. But, I want to do something for Mummy too. You know. To honor both I guess."
"I think that's a brilliant idea. I know Hermione would really anything you made for her."
"Any ideas?"
Ron sat back on his heels, brushing the cool dirt off of his hands to think for a moment. "Honestly, Hugo, I have to admit I had forgotten it was coming up. I am pretty new at this having a wife bit, especially one who is a mum."
"Well what did you do for your mum when you were little?"
"From what Mum has told me, the things I did that she liked the most were the homemade ones. I think I would make cards, draw pictures and such. And I remember promising to do extra chores around the house one year, although knowing me I probably never did them. A couple years after I started having my own money I bought her some pricey gifts, but I know those didn't mean as much as the homemade ones. The truth I have learned in the past year or so is that what parents really do love the most is spending time with their kids and having the kids tell them they love them. Pretty simple stuff actually. Who knew?"
"Well, I love you, Ron, but I am not making you a card for Mothering Sunday."
Ron laughed, reaching over to pull Hugo in for a hug that was part hug, part wrestle. Soon the two were rough housing around the yard. They eventually stopped, both laying on their backs and watching the clouds above.
"I think Mummy would like flowers to be planted for her. But maybe not on their graves. Maybe I could plant something out here in the yard where I could visit with her instead of having to go to the cemetery."
"I love that idea, Hugo. And I know Fi would, too."
"Did she have a favorite flower?" Hugo asked timidly. "I don't think I can remember."
"Hmm, let me think for a minute," Ron said trying to scour his memory. "You know – I can remember talking to her one time about flowers. I think I was going on a date with someone and trying to take flowers or something. Anyway – I remember she said that her favorite flowers were groups of wild flowers of all kinds of colors mixed together. She said it was like life, full of color and life and movement and much better than having to pick just one. So, maybe we could get some different wildflower seeds and plant them in the back corner where it is really sunny?"
"Yeah! I love that. Let's definitely plan on it. So, then that just leaves Hermione. What are you getting her?"
"Me? Hermione isn't my mum. She's my wife."
"I dunno, Ron. I watch all those ads on the tele for the Mothering Sunday stuff and they seem pretty aimed at the husbands and not the kids."
"Really?" he asked his son, concerned at this new expectation on him he'd been unaware of.
"Well, that's just what I think. I've never been a parent or a husband, so what do I know?"
"Yeah. But you've grown up all aware of the muggle world which I never did. Hmm. I should figure it out before I get in trouble."
"Yup. You should. I think I am going to make her a card and give her the thing from school."
"She'll love that."
"You know dads can't get away with that, right? You totally have to buy her stuff."
"Bugger. I need to talk to someone who knows about these things."
Hugo giggled at him and went back to the weeding. Thinking about what Hugo had said, Ron realized he was indeed on the hook to get the mother of his new children something for the holiday. But he had no ideas. And, he knew Hermione well enough to know that wandering around muggle department stores for an idea would be a waste of time. Instead, he went straight to the source and called his new father in law.
"Ron? This is a pleasant surprise. How's your day going? Are we still on for the kids coming for the night?"
"Hi Michael. We're having a good day. And yes – Hugo and Lilly will definitely be at your place tonight if that is still alright with you. We all really appreciate it."
"Of course, Ron. We'll have great fun with them. And is sounds a hell of a lot better than your evening."
"Well, yeah. Not the highlight of the year for me. But that isn't why I called actually. Hugo and I got out in the garden this morning for some weeding and Hugo happened to mention that in the muggle world, husbands give their wives presents for Mothering Sunday. I'm guessing it's true as it seems an odd sort of thing for a nine year old to make up."
"Oh, yes. Definitely true. Sorry, I didn't realize that wasn't the magical tradition or I would have warned you."
"No, no worries. You couldn't have known. I guess I could use some advice, though. I mean, it's not like I can run to that muggle Marks and Spencers and get her a jumper or something."
"Noooo. That would be a terrible plan. Only worse thing for you would be something domestically practical like an iron or a blender or vacuum cleaner. They shouldn't even let men buy those things. All it can do is get them in trouble."
"Ok. So, avoid practical things. What was the present Jean liked the best from Hermione over the years? And what was her favorite from you?"
"Good question. I think her favorite from Hermione was some art thingy she'd made in primary school. It was a pottery dish she'd made and painted. It was a mess of a thing, but Jean still loves it. Keeps it on her dresser and puts her rings and such on it each night."
"And from you?"
"One year I gave her a ring with Hermione's birthstone."
"Hmm. Sort of did that with the engagement ring."
"That's your problem there, son. You keep doing too well. Gets harder to out-do yourself. You need to set a low bar in these early years."
"I'll keep that in mind," laughed Ron. "Well, I appreciate your insight. And I'll see you this evening."
It had been a tiring week, and Ron was more than ready to get the gala behind them. He had decided that the only thing he was looking forward to about the entire thing was seeing Hermione dressed up for the event. Before the anniversary, she and Ginny had managed to go shopping to get Hermione some formal magical clothes. Hermione had been very coy about the whole thing and had refused to show him what she got, which had him grinning. Ron could not believe what an amazing woman he had married. She not only forgave my sorry arse for how I behaved after the anniversary, but then she managed the whole press coverage like a trooper, he thought.
As he'd expected, the Daily Prophet had jumped on the news that he was married with kids like Neville on some new plant. While they had at least not ignored covering the actual memorial service, there had been a two page spread on Ron and Hermione featuring pictures of their "tumultuous romance" as well as reminder pictures of when he'd proposed to an unnamed American witch. They also ran the old Draco Malfoy pictures, but had carefully worded captions that went just up to the line of libel. But they also ran several wonderful pictures of Hermione listening to his speech, of the two of them hugging after the speeches were finished, and nice picture of him and Hermione talking quietly with Harry and Ginny before the ceremony began. And, just as they had thought would happen, the owls had brought a steady flow of interview requests, fashion critiques, upset letters from crazy witches who were still hoping to snag Ron, and every other possible type of nonsense. Ron had started to open them, but Hermione just laughed at him and then threw it all into the fireplace and set it aflame. He was in awe of her ability to just let it slide off of her.
But tonight's gala would not be so easy to ignore. They would have to get all fancied up and head straight to The Ministry while they mixed and mingled with all of them in front of the press. At least he didn't have to give a speech, he thought. Everything he'd said at the spur of them moment at the memorial had been well received. He still wasn't sure what made him chuck the planned speech like that. But when he looked down and saw Hermione's note encouraging him to own the moment, something just clicked in him, and he suddenly knew what he needed to say. But now he had to live up to his own ideals and challenges, which was no easy task. And showing up at the gala was step one.
The day went by in a blur. Ron and Hugo headed out to find wildflower seeds to plant in the garden the following weekend. He'd promised Hermione he would take his shower early and then get Hugo organized for the sleepover at the Grangers. He'd planned to take the kids over, but Jean and Michael wanted to come and see the two of them all dressed up for the gala and take pictures. She'd also managed to convince the Potters to come as well so she could take pictures of both couples. Ron chuckled at this, but he knew his mother in law well enough to not try to stop her.
By the time he had gotten dressed, Ginny had already arrived with Lilly so that they could get ready together and enjoy some "witch time."
"What do they do during 'witch time'" Hugo asked Ron as he came down the stairs into the kitchen.
"Hugo," Ron asked with a bemused expression, "look at me. You've known me your whole life. I grew up with five older brothers and my only sister played professional sports. Aside from my mum and Gin, I never even lived with a woman in the same house before Hermione moved in last September. My only female friend was your mummy who was about as girlie as Gin, which is probably why we got on so well. Do you really think I have any idea about these kind of things?"
"No," scowled Hugo. "I suppose not."
"Don't feel too left out there," Ron laughed. I think they are just getting dressed and doing their hair and such. But you find out from Lilly later and give me the scoop, alright? Seems like a good wingman assignment."
"Yeah. That's a good idea," agreed Hugo as he hopped up to get a glass of water. "So, are you even a little bit excited about tonight?"
Ron scrunched his face up. "Well, I'm guessing Hermione will look beautiful. But I am guessing that will be the highlight of the night. And I pretty much think she looks beautiful most of the time."
"I think you need an attitude adjustment to make it through the evening," pronounced Hugo.
"You're probably right. But, I said I would do it. And I will. But I never promised to have it be my favorite evening of the year."
Hugo just shook his head. "Wanna play cards or something?"
"See, now that sounds like a fun night," grinned Ron.
Soon, the two were playing cards and enjoying what Hugo decided he'd call "Wizard time." They were so engrossed in their game, that they didn't notice when Harry came through the floo. But he soon pulled up a chair and became engrossed in the game as well so that none of them heard the Grangers arrive either. Michael was quick to pull up a chair, and Jean just shook her head and laughed at the four boys. Finally, Hugo slammed his cards down with a grin declaring he'd won, causing great cheers and groans to erupt form the table. They were all laughing and chatting when Lilly Potter came prancing into the kitchen.
"Mum and Hermione are all ready for the ball. They look so pretty!"
"I bet they do, Sweat Pea," said Harry.
"Well come on then," she said dragging her dad by his arms into the living room. "You have to be in the living room so they can make their big entrances down the stairs."
"She's right," agreed Jean. "Let's go!"
Lilly was soon arranging everyone and telling them where to stand and then bounced back up the stairs to get her mum and aunt. Ron was laughing at his little niece's eagerness, but then he was stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of Hermione at the top of the stairs. He felt his breath catch in his throat as he caught her eye and saw her smile at his dumfounded expression.
He heard Jean gasp behind him and say something, and he vaguely realized his sister was also coming down the stairs, but he couldn't take his eyes off of his wife. While he had seen her dressed up for muggle formal events and for their wedding, he suddenly realized he had never seen her in magical formal attire, and he was quite surprised at how much it affected him to see her in dress robes.
Hermione stood at the top of the stairs feeling a little ridiculous in such a ball gown and wearing such a cape, but Ginny and Lilly had convinced her that this was exactly what she needed to be wearing at this type of event. She'd never worn anything like this before. Even her wedding dress hadn't had been this poofy or had a train like this. She knew she couldn't even have gotten it on without the assistance of Ginny, Lilly and a little magic. When she, Ginny and Fleur had gone shopping for dress robes, she had been more than surprised to see the styles that were worn to such an event. She had thought a simple muggle cocktail dress might be appropriate, but Ginny was quick to explain that was not what she should wear.
"Hermione," Ginny had argued. "As much as I don't understand what you see in my brother, this is his chance to stick it to all those idiots. For decades now he has had to show up alone to these events. There were always ridiculous articles about his supposed love life, or maybe how he was an addict or something. But now he has this stunning wife. And he gets to show up with you on his arm to this ball that honors what he and Harry did all those years ago."
"She's correct, Hermione," agreed Fleur. "And no matter how absurd it is, you and Ginny have to look amazing at the ball. Not for yourselves, but for Harry and Ron. Face it, when men are with the most beautiful women in the room they stand taller, walk prouder and act better. And anything you can do to make this ridiculous evening better for them is what you have to do. All these paparazzi know Ginny. She is old news. But you, my new dear sister in law, you are fresh meat. And they will take a zillion pictures and criticize whatever you do or don't do or wear or don't wear. So you have to nail it. But, you know, no pressure."
After a mini meltdown from the pressure, Hermione allowed her sisters in law to take her under their wings and navigate her through the world of magical high fashion.
She hadn't liked most of the styles, but when she had seen this dress she'd fallen in love with the color instantly. It was a very deep navy that reminded her of the night sky. "Cleary would have been a Ravenclaw," Ginny had muttered. While the full, structured ball gown skirt and train was much bigger than she would ever have been drawn to, she loved the bodice. It looked like it was layers of folded fabric woven together, almost like origami. The bodice was tight, almost like a corset that fit her like a glove and came up to a princess neckline that came up with two straps as a halter around her neck. Hermione had worried it was too low cut, but Fleur and Ginny assured her it was just right. Over the dress she had a formal black cape that was trimmed in the same deep navy as the dress, but had tiny stars embroidered into the navy with the most delicate black thread that shimmered if you turned in certain ways. The cape fastened at the structured collar with an ornate silver clasp that had been engraved with a "W," and cinched at the waist with a black tie allowing the cape to fall over the large grown.
Ginny had done her hair, and it had never been so perfectly coiffed with a few curls pulled to the side of her neck, highlighting the diamond stud earrings. Ginny had shown Hermione glamor charms, and Hermione had to admit they looked brilliant. But standing at the top of the stairs in such a dress, she still felt a little like she was playing dress up. Ginny was just behind her in a stunning gown of similar size and stature that was in emerald green, perfectly contrasting her red hair.
"Can't be queen of the ball if you stay on the stairs," Ginny finally said, giving Hermione a small shove on the shoulder. At that Hermione finally came down the stairs, giggling at the still gawking Ron.
"Ron," Michael whispered, "close your mouth there, son. A bug could fly in that trap." At that his father in law patted him on the back, shaking Ron out of his momentary trance.
"You look absolutely incredible, Hermione," he said with his lopsided grin.
"You look like royalty!" declared Jean who quickly shuffled everyone into various poses for a string of pictures.
Soon they had survived all of the pictures, had the kids packed up and sent off with the Grangers, and the two couples flooed to The Ministry for the event. Hermione was incredibly nervous, the words of her sisters in law about the paparazzi running through her head. But, she simply followed Ginny's lead as she and Harry walked into the main hall ahead of them. She held her head high, tried to focus on her posture, and kept reminding herself not to trip. Just before they got to the entrance, Ron stopped and turned to her.
"You look stunning. But, Hermione, I can feel you shaking. It's going to be fine. We're going to stand around in uncomfortable shoes and drink wine and eat bad food while we chat with Harry and Gin and Neville and the same folks we always see. And this is much less pressure that the benefit galas for your work because you don't have to talk anyone into changing laws or writing checks. That's someone else's problem tonight."
"Yes," she said, "but we don't usually have hundreds of people watching us and taking pictures."
"Well maybe not the mob of people, but we definitely have people taking our picture all of the time. This time we just happen to know it. And frankly, you look so bloody amazing, they are going to be wanting to take your picture so they can all try to copy your style. It's just us. You'll be fine. Actually, no – you'll be amazing. And if at any point you want to leave, we leave. But we should probably at least go in the door before we leave so we at least get credit for showing up."
"Ok. I'm just nervous. I feel like everyone knows what the rules of this game are and I have no idea what they are. A muggle gala I know how to handle. But this is different. Just feels a bit like walking into the lion's den or something."
"Nah," grinned Ron. "You're just surrounded by Gryffindors. You'll be fine. I promise."
She chuckled, and he kissed her cheek. Pressing his forehead to hers he whispered, "Now, are you ready to go in? Because I would love to leave here being known as the wizard who had the most gorgeous witch on his arm this evening."
She laughed again and nodded her head.
"Alright. Just let me know when we need to leave and we are gone. Here we go," he grinned. Then he squeezed her hand, and she took a deep breath as they walked through the entrance.
Momentarily blinded by the camera flashes, they both smiled into the blinding lights until the photographers parted enough for them to make their way through.
The entire lobby area of The Ministry had been converted into a ball room, with an orchestra at one end near an area for dancing while small tables donned the other side of the hall. Ron and Hermione tried to walk over to the table where Ginny, Harry and the other Weasleys were sitting, but they were stopped every few steps to shake hands with someone who had been helped or touched by Ron's actions over the years. There were a dozen or so conversations where some witch or wizard reached out to shake Ron's hand, to touch his shoulder and tell him with tears in their eyes how his bravery had saved their life, or their children's lives, or had allowed them to come out of hiding or to be released from Azkaban. Or he stood with them and remembered the child who had never come home from Azkaban, or the father who had been taken by snatchers and never seen again.
Hermione stood at his side the whole time, stroking his hand with her thumb or holding her hand against his back, willing him to feel her strength and her love as he heard their stories. As they finally made it to their table, she could feel him slump into a chair and reach for the glass of water at the table.
"Are you alright, Ron? You look a bit pale, even for you."
He gave her a week grin. "Just really, really glad you're here."
"Always," she said as she squeezed his hand.
They plowed on through the night, with dozens more families coming up to Ron to talk about lost loved ones or difficult experiences during the war. But Hermione figured out how to interject into the conversations to help lighten the discussions, connect them to Dennis and Collin, thank people for their support of the Dumbledore Fund or anything else to otherwise ease the burden on Ron.
Finally, after dinner had been served, she smiled at him and said, "I do believe we need to get in a few dances before this night is over."
"I think that sounds perfect right about now," Ron said with a lopsided grin as he held out his hand to lead her out onto the dance floor.
She slipped into his arms as the orchestra started a new song. She nuzzled up to his chest as his arm slipped around her waist.
"You hanging in there?" she finally asked quietly.
"Only because you're here," he said. "You have been amazing tonight. I could not have gotten through this without you."
"Yes, you could have. You just would have looked funny dancing out here by yourself."
Laughing, Ron said, "Yeah, I'm sure the press would have had a field day with that."
"Hmm. Maybe we should give them something else instead."
"What do mean? Want me to propose to someone else?" he teased.
"No," she mused. "I was thinking of something more like this," she said as she reached up to his face and pulled it to hers, catching his lips in hers.
After a long kiss, Ron grinned, muttering "I have the most bloody brilliant wife," as she laughed against his chest.
"How long do you think we have to stay at this thing?" Ron asked.
"No idea. This is your night, remember?"
"Hmm. Maybe a few more dances and then we skip out?"
"Brilliant plan," she grinned.
When they were finally able to sneak out about an hour later, they flooed straight home. Hermione had her heels kicked off before she was even out of the fireplace.
"Free toes!" she declared with glee.
"Can you even see your feet with that dress?" Ron laughed.
"No," she giggled. "This is by far the poofiest thing I have ever had on in my entire life!" With that she went to sit on the sofa, and the skirt poofed all around her like a blue cloud.
"Well," Ron said as he tried to push down some of the layers of blue taffeta and silk, "poofy or not, you look stunning. If I wasn't married, and well, you weren't my wife, I would have had to ask you out."
"Oh really?" she teased. "And where on earth would you take some with this large of a dress?"
"Honestly, I was rather hoping that at some point I could get you out of that dress."
"Well, honestly I don't think I can get out of this dress on my own, so you will definitely have to be helping me out of it."
"That is a problem I am up for solving," he grinned. "I'd even carry you up the stairs, but I am not sure I can find where to hold onto you in all that fabric."
Laughing she picked up an armful of fabric so she could stand up and head upstairs, and Ron grabbed and armful to help her.
"How did you get in this dress to begin with?"
"It took Ginny and Lilly and a bit of magic I think."
They made it upstairs and he finally found the zipper in the back which he tugged down gently. As he pulled, he revealed her bare back, letting his finger drag along her skin causing them both to erupt in gooseflesh. The dress ended up standing on its own, causing them both to laugh.
"It's like a blue cake," she giggled. "And I am not sure I can get out of this on my own."
"I can help with that too," he said, his voice suddenly deeper.
She reached out for him, and he pulled her from the piles of blue silk. But as he lifted her up, she had one last surprise for him. "Hermione, you've been under all that fabric all night in no bra and only your Chudley Cannons knickers?"
"I thought you might need a little reward after the ball."
"Well, no one knows me like my amazing wife," he said, his hands running over the orange silk between her thighs.
"I still get a butterflies when you say that, you know," she said with a slight blush. "I hope that never fades." With that she quickly worked her hands down the buttons on his shirt, soon raking her nails across his bare skin. She walked around him slowly, dragging her hands across his abdomen while she kissed his bare back. Reaching for his trousers, she let her hands brush over his hardening cock while pressing her breasts to his bare back. She unbuckled his belt and tugged his trousers down as she walked backed around to the front of him. He kicked off his trousers and kissed her fiercely, losing his hands in her hair as he tugged it from the perfect style it had been charmed in for the ball. Carrying her gently to their bed, he hovered over her, caressing her breasts gently as her nipples hardened beneath his touch. She arched her back and widened her legs in reaction, allowing him to settle between her, causing his erection to grow even harder.
She kissed his neck, dragging her lips along his jaw line as her fingers danced over his skin and her feet rubbed along the back of his legs. He moved his lips down to her breasts, teasing her hardened nipples with his tongue. She gasped in pleasure, raking her fingers through his hair. She rolled him over onto his back, and shimmied his pants down over his erection. Grasping him, she stroked him up and down before running her tongue along his length. She looked back at him as he looked at her with a mix of adoration, awe and pleasure overload as she took him in her mouth, sucking and swirling her tongue over him.
"Fuck, Hermione!" he gasped. She tortured him with her tongue as she gently rolled his bollocks in her hands. He reached for her curls, desperate to watch her face. But soon the pleasure was such that he found his eyes closing of their own accord. When he could take no more, he flipped her over, both moaning as he entered her. They groaned and sighed together with each pulse. His hands ran across her body, one hand on the curve of her hip and the other grasping her breast. Her little gasps of pleasure were getting closer and closer, and soon they had both fallen into the haze of orgasm, collapsing into each other's arms and into a deep sleep.
