An hour later—as the reception was underway—Ron found himself sitting between Lydia and his brother, Charlie, as they finished dinner. George was sitting nearby and telling Lydia's friend, Ezzie, a loud and animated story about Quidditch playing at Hogwarts while Lee Jordan, Neville, and Hannah all listened in on the opposite side of him. Hermione was seated at the far side of the table; having a quiet conversation with Luna as they ate.

Ron glanced at Lydia, who was sitting next to him. She had barely touched her dinner. In fact, she hadn't spoken much at all over the last several minutes.

"Not hungry, then?" he asked.

"No," she said. "Sorry, I'm just not feeling very well."

"Maybe if you ate something," Ezzie encouraged as she turned towards her. "You'd probably feel loads better."

"I don't think so," she said, standing up and placing her napkin on her plate. "Excuse me."

Ron, Ezzie, George all watched her go. Ezzie looked particularly concerned about her friend's condition.

"If she doesn't feel well, she should probably go home and try to get some rest," Ron said.

"Lydia's a fighter," Ezzie said. "She could be half dead on the floor and she'd be fighting through just to save face."

"That's stupid," Ron said as the band started to kick up again and all around him, several people began to take to the dance floor. "Why bother suffering for this?"

"I'm going to go and check on her," she said before she stood. "Excuse me."

"That's a drag, huh?" said George once Ezzie was out of earshot. "She was really looking forward to this, but I really think she had too much to drink last night." He looked at Ron. "And then there's your crap luck, of course. Looks like your chances of getting some just decreased to nil."

Ron shrugged. "I really don't care." His eyes drifted across the table to where Hermione was sitting, though he found himself experiencing a pang of annoyance the instant he glanced at her. At that very moment, Luna stood and mentioned something about how fond she was of this particular song. Seconds later, she was making her way out to the dance floor to sway happily to the melody.

"Is she just dancing by herself?" Hannah asked.

"That's Luna," Neville said with a small smile just as Lydia and Ezzie returned. Lydia's face was slightly more flushed, but she was smiling.

"I'm so sorry," she said as she sat back down. "Don't let me bring your night down."

"If you don't feel well," Ron said. "You should go." He frowned. "You're just making yourself worse."

"I'll be okay," she said, forcing a smile.

Ron shook his head before turning away from her and glancing out at the dance floor where Harry and Ginny danced front and center amongst their guests. He couldn't help but notice that they seemed really happy.

"Come on, Ezzie," George said as he stood up. "Shall we dance?"

"Oh," she said in a tone of surprise. "Sure, I'd love to."

"Come on you lazy bums," George said, gesturing to everyone else at the table. "This is a party, not a funeral. Get up and get going."

Neville and Hannah laughed, but stood all the same and followed them out to the dance floor. It took Charlie and Leah a few seconds of hesitating before they too shrugged and decided why not. Ron glanced at Lydia before he heard Lee Jordan ask Hermione if she'd like to dance.

"I do like this song," she said with a friendly smile as she stood and followed Lee. Ron watched, his eyes drifting from them to everyone else around the dance floor before landing lastly on his parents. He couldn't help but grin when he saw them dancing tenderly together on the far end. He suddenly hoped he could be that happy at his children's wedding one day...whenever that day was.

A bottle of champagne came drifting into view and the sudden urge to grab it overcame him. He easily felt he could help himself to a large glass—or even a bottle. Perhaps his mood would improve if he drank more?

"Smile!" he heard someone say from behind him as he turned to see Andromeda attempting to take a picture of Victoire and Teddy together. Victoire was beaming at the camera, though Teddy only mustered a sheepish grin.

"You can do better than that," Andromeda said as she lifted up her camera once more. "Come on Teddy, big smile."

"I am smiling," he said obviously.

Victoire looked at him as if she was inspecting him. It was then that she took her two index fingers and poked them in the corners of Teddy's mouth, so as to force him to smile. She turned and smiled brightly for the camera just as Andromeda snapped the picture.

"Oh, I'll have to frame that one," Andromeda gushed as Victoire giggled and Teddy rolled his eyes. Though, he was genuinely smiling on his own now.

"They're cute," Ron heard Lydia say as he turned back around to face her. She, too, had apparently been watching the kids. "The little girl is your niece, right?"

Ron nodded absently. "Yeah, and the boy is Harry's godson."

"I've seen them both in the store before," she said in a quiet sort of way. "You've got a really large family it seems."

"You get used to it," he said.

She smiled weakly. "I feel terrible about this, but I really think I should go. I'm doing nothing but keeping you from having fun."

Ron cracked a small smile. "Trust me, it's not you."

"I really should go," she said heavily. "You're right. I really should try to get some rest. I'm in a right state." She forced a smile. "And you should enjoy yourself. After all, this is your sister and your friend's wedding."

He watched her stand and wondered if he should say something. It wasn't her fault everything was annoying him at the moment, but at the same time, he wasn't sorry to see her go. It was actually a relief of sorts. He stood up. "I hope you feel better."

"Thanks," she said. "I'm going to go and tell Ezzie that I'm off. Goodnight, Ron."

He watched as she approached George and Ezzie on the dance floor before glancing down at his glass of champagne. He quickly picked it up and downed it in one gulp. What a night this was turning out to be.

"Oh well," he mumbled to himself as he looked around the room. Most of his friends and family were busy dancing or drinking themselves stupid—which were the only activities that he considered viable options for the night. He watched as everyone on the dance floor suddenly parted so that they could observe his father and Ginny dance to a sentimental tune together. He stood there taking in the display for himself until a small head appeared from underneath a table next to his leg and brushed it slightly.

"Louis," Ron said as he stared down at his nephew's little blonde head. "Why are you under the table?"

"Because," he said as he disappeared back underneath. Apparently, to Louis, that was a suitable enough explanation. Ron leaned down and pulled back the tablecloth to reveal Louis, Teddy, and one other young boy, whom he didn't know, sitting there trading chocolate frog cards.

"Hi, guys," Ron said with an amused smile. "What's going on?"

"We're hiding," said Louis with a silly smile.

"From who?"

"Anyone who wants to take our picture," Teddy said as he and the boy next to him swapped cards and started to examine their new acquisitions. "Or from anyone who wants to dance." He rolled his eyes dramatically.

"Dancing can be fun," Ron said. "You should give it a shot."

"Then why aren't you doing it?" Teddy asked.

"Touché," he said as he dropped the tablecloth back down, hiding the boys underneath once more. He really wasn't in much of a mood to dance; seeing as there was really only one other option he deemed appropriate, he made notice of Dean and Seamus chatting and drinking with a crowd of familiar faces at the back of the room and decided to make his way over there. What better time than now than to catch up with old friends?

"You're joking!?" Ron said an hour later as he laughed with Seamus, Dean, Neville, George, Katie Bell, and Angelina Johnson while they worked on yet another round of drinks. "You actually said that?"

"Of course I actually said that," Seamus said, throwing his arms up in the air. "Why wouldn't I have told him that?"

"It just sounds made up," Dean said before Ron could say it himself. The whole group of them began laughing.

"Look at this crowd," Ginny said happily as she approached them. "Have you all been sitting here off in the corner drinking all night?"

"Where else would we be?" Seamus asked.

She grinned. "I don't know why I ask. I take it this is where Harry's been when I can't find him?"

"People keep dragging him off," Ron said with a wave of his hand.

"That's the problem with it being your wedding," she said as a woman approached her from the side. "Everyone has something they need you for."

"Ginny? Can I steal you for a moment?" asked the woman.

"Absolutely," she said with a weary smile. "Ron, we'll be cutting the cake soon, so you'll be making your toast then. Just so you know."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he said before he glanced around the group. "Hey, Dean, where'd your girlfriend go?"

"Hannah and she went out to dance," said Neville. "Speaking of which, where'd your girl go?"

"Home sick," Ron said, raising his glass in mock salute, "or something. I don't know."

"Yeah, and she took my date with her," George mumbled as he swigged on a champagne bottle.

"Well, that's crap," Seamus said.

"Story of my life," Ron mumbled.

"Tell me about it," George said. "No more dancing for me."

"Why can't you dance?" Angelina asked as she observed George.

"Who am I going to dance with?" he asked. "All the good ones are taken!"

She glanced at Katie and rolled her eyes. "I suppose we're chopped liver, then?"

"Not chopped, per se…" he said with a shrug, which caused Angelina to promptly kick him in his shin.

"Ow! I was kidding," he said as he rubbed his leg. "A joke, get it?"

"Were you?" she said dryly. "For someone who makes his living in jokes, you think you'd be funnier."

George frowned, though the others laughed. Angelina smiled at him before she stood. "All right, then," she added. "Come on then, Weasley. Let's see what you've got."

"You expect me to dance when you've all but crippled my leg?" he asked, but she merely tugged on his arm and forced him to stand. He pretended to hobble as he followed her out towards the dance floor.

"And he was so looking forward to getting lucky," Ron mumbled as he shook his head.

"He still might," Katie suggested. "You never know."

"With Angelina?" He laughed doubtfully. "Right. That will be the day."

"I think they have a lot more in common than you think," Katie said. "Or at least I think so."

"Ah, well," Seamus said as he patted Ron on the leg, "there's still hope for the both of you, mate. Just look around!"

"Here?" Ron asked in a skeptical tone. "They're either related to me, too old, too young, with someone else, or a troll."

Dean laughed. "That's pretty harsh."

"The truth hurts," Ron said with a shrug as he swigged his drink. He was suddenly feeling very honest, though he was fairly sure that was alcohol induced.

"You're leaving soon anyway, Ron," Neville said. "No need to deal with unnecessary attachments."

"Yeah," Seamus said. "Plus, Paris is full of beautiful women."

"This is true," Ron said.

"You get to start a whole new life," he added in an envious tone. "Be a whole new guy and do different things. I'm jealous."

Ron smiled. "It is pretty cool if you put it that way."

"Lucky bastard," he said. "When do you leave?"

"Not soon enough," Ron mumbled just as Hannah and Dean's girlfriend reappeared.

"You boys look like you're having a bit too much fun," Hannah said.

"No such thing," Ron said as he stood up and stretched, "but I have to make a toast and I can't think straight with all of you sitting around me. I'm going to go and think it over before I actually have to say it." He paused. "Perhaps, I should have done that before I started drinking?"

"Good luck," several of them said as Ron made his way over to a nearby vacant table and plopped into an empty chair. He reached into the pocket of his robes and pulled out a piece of parchment that he had scribbled some notes onto. He began trying to read it over and over as he sat there attempting to make sure he had everything he wanted to say ready to go. How does one put a lifetime's worth of memories into a few minute toast?

"There you are," said the familiar voice that he immediately recognized as being Hermione's. "What are you reading?"

"Oh," he said as he snapped out of his self imposed daze, "my toast."

"You're actually practicing?" she asked as she sat down next to him and laughed. Several piece of her hair fell down around her face.

"I want to get it right," he said. "This is important stuff."

"I know it is," she said, glancing around the room. "I actually haven't prepared anything to say for mine yet, either."

"You haven't?" he asked in a tone of surprise. "I would have thought you'd have highlighted notes by now."

She grinned. "Not today. I'm going for a more 'off the top of my head, and from the heart' sort of thing."

He nodded his head with a sense of approval. His thoughts were suddenly distant and fuzzy as he found himself staring at her. "So, are you having a good time?"

"Yeah," she said brightly. "I've been dancing a lot, which has been fun. Martin's not much of a dancer, so we don't do that very often, you know."

"That doesn't surprise me," he mumbled before turning back to his notes.

"Hey, hey, weapons down," she said in mock defense. "Trust me, I don't need to hear more reasons why he and I shouldn't be together." She smiled. "You've made you points quite clear."

"You make it sound like it's all I talk about," he said as his mood grew annoyed again the more he thought about her and Martin. "I'm just looking out for you."

"I know you are," she said as she watched him silently read the paper in his hands. "I heard Lydia went home. Is she all right?"

He shrugged. "I think she had too much to drink last night. It apparently carried over into today."

"Oh," she said. "Well, she's young, she'll learn—"

"Yeah, I get it. You think she's young," he said in a cold tone without looking up at her. He wasn't sure why he suddenly found himself so annoyed with her.

Hermione frowned. "What's gotten into you?"

"Nothing," he lied. "I'm great."

"Whatever you say," she muttered before she quickly stood up.

"Where are you going?" he asked, setting his paper down.

"Why do you care?" she asked. "You seem pretty content to sit over here and brood on your own. I'd hate to interrupt."

Ron rubbed his face out of frustration. "I don't mean to be a git. It's just been a long night and I've been drinking. I'm in a crappy mood."

"Because Lydia went home?"

He looked at her. That wasn't the reason, but he didn't feel like telling her that the real reason was because she'd put a false sense of hope into his mind yesterday night, then taken it back, stomped all over it, and expected him to pretend like nothing had ever happened. "Something like that," he said before he looked away. "Anyway, sorry."

She stared at him. "I'm going to go and work on my toast."

"You can do it here," he said, attempting to sound pleasant.

"It's quieter outside." She turned to leave.

He glanced at the parchment in his hand before looking over at the exit of the tent. "You know, we should actually collaborate so we're not saying the same stuff."

"If you're in a pissy mood, Ron—"

"I'm fine," he said, realizing how dumb it was for him to annoyed with her for something she obviously didn't realize she'd done. "You know, I could use the help."

She seemed to consider this as she studied him for a moment. "Fine, but you just can't talk while I'm trying to think."

"Hermione," he said as he stood up. "Where we would be as friends if I hadn't made it my job to disturb you while you were thinking?"

"Probably both a bit saner," she said as she led the way outside. Ron followed after her, and watched as she immediately went and sat on a nearby rock wall. Ron distanced himself across the way from her, and instead made himself lean against a large tree. They both sat in silence for several minutes as he continued to read over his paper and mouth his toast to himself, while Hermione focused on the ground.

"How long is yours?" he asked.

"Maybe two minutes."

"That's it? Mine's too long, then."

"How long is it?"

"About four minutes."

"That is too long. Just focus on the highlights."

"We've had a lot of highlights in our lives," he said, running his hand through his hair. "It's hard to just pick a few."

"True," she said, "but focus on the friendship and familiar aspects."

"I hate making speeches," he mumbled. "As if anyone in there cares."

"Harry and Ginny do," she said. "I do."

"Everyone's probably half pissed anyway," he said as he made his way over to the wall Hermione was sitting on. "I am."

"I could tell," she said shortly before returning to her thoughts. Ron plopped himself down several feet away from her on the wall and proceeded to stare up at the night sky. It was an especially clear night. There were only so many stars in the sky, and no moon to be seen. In fact, the only thing that made anything visible outside was the glow of light from inside the tent that was spilling out in various patches.

His mind drifted back to the toast he was supposed to make in a few minutes and what he should really say about his friend marrying his sister. What does one say about their best friend? He started to think about him and Harry as kids. Their childhood and friendship had been anything but ordinary, but conveying that to everyone in that tent without sounding corny wasn't something he could work out. He glanced at Hermione and saw her face screw up ever so slightly, just as it always did when she was deep in thought. Something told him she'd be able to do it eloquently and easily.

He couldn't help but suddenly be reminded of the three of them battling trolls in the Hogwarts's bathroom and how that had been the instance they had all really become friends. To any normal person, that story was worth telling as an ice breaker. To them, however, it was barely worth the words compared to the adventures that they'd been through. Flashes of memories started swirling through his head: He and Harry in the Chamber of Secrets; he, Hermione, and Harry in the Shrieking Shack; the three of them starting Dumbledore's Army; trips to Hogemeade; Dumbledore's funeral; camping in the woods for weeks; sneaking into the Slytherin common room; making up causes of death in Divination; watching Hermione slap Draco Malfoy; fighting with Hermione over Scabbers, over Harry's Firebolt, over Victor Krum, over Lavender Brown, over so many stupid things. He grinned as he remembered how stupid he was as kid, and how thinly veiled his fights with Hermione were at masking his actual feelings for her. How annoyed he'd get with her just like he was doing now. He laughed out loud.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing," he said, sitting up straight. "I was just thinking about some of the things we did as kids."

"Oh?"

"We were pretty busy."

Hermione gave a half smile. "You think?"

He laughed. "I was an idiot."

"I know," she said, nodding her head in agreement.

"I've gotten better," he said in an optimistic sort of way. "Or I like to think I have."

"I don't think we would have dated for so long if you hadn't," she said as she stared up at the sky. "You did a lot of growing up. We both did."

"You were already ages ahead of me. You always were."

"I had my areas I had to work on," she said distantly. "I still do. We all do."

"Not me," joked Ron. "I'm pretty perfect these days."

Hermione shot him a sarcastic look, which made him laugh.

"You can pretend you don't like it, but you know you secretly love my sense of humor," he said matter-of-factly. "Bad jokes and all."

"It's a bit much sometimes," she said as she smiled slowly, "but for the most part, you've always been the one person who can always make me laugh." She made a face. "And make me cry, but that's a whole different story."

"I'm doing my best to avoid the crying thing from now on," he said. "It's something new I'm trying."

She grinned. "I appreciate that."

They were both silent for a moment as a couple appeared from the tent, hand and hand and giggling. They caught sight of Hermione and Ron and giggled louder before walking off hastily in a search for somewhere more private.

"They look like they're having fun," Ron said.

"Or will be soon enough," Hermione added as she stood and adjusted her dress to keep it from wrinkling too much. Ron couldn't help but watch her. She really did look very elegant and put together.

"You look really pretty by the way," he said, trying to sound casual. "Not that you don't always, but you know what I mean."

"Thanks," she said with a smile that suddenly made Ron's stomach lurch in an oddly familiar, yet uncharacteristic way. His palms started to get sweaty the longer he looked at her.

"You know," she continued, "I didn't really get the chance to say this yesterday, because of how worked up I felt, but," she smiled at him, "I'm really going to miss you when you leave for Paris."

"Are you?" he asked as he watched her carefully.

"Of course I am," she said as she returned to sit down next to him again. "I mean, you just got back and now you're turning around and leaving." She frowned. "I just thought you were back for good."

"I'm only going to Paris," he said. "You can visit whenever. I'd love it if you visited."

"It's not the same," she said.

"It's not?"

"I just," she shook her head, "I know we sort of butted heads last night, but I appreciate the advice you give me. You may tell me in the most backwards and annoying way possible, but you're mostly right."

He smiled. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"You're my best friend," she said. "You and I have something Harry and I won't ever have, nor Ginny, nor anyone. A strange and complicated history marked with so many twists and turns it'll make your head spin."

"There's that word again," he said.

Hermione looked at him questioningly.

"Complicated," he added.

"I think we invented complicated."

"I'll drink to that," he mumbled before smiling at her. "But complicated isn't always bad, you know. Some of what I think are our best memories come out of it."

"Some of our worst, too."

He stared at the ground. His thoughts drifted back to what she had said the night before about wishing things had never changed between them. Why couldn't he drop this? She had said she hadn't meant what she had said, but he didn't want to believe that. Something was telling him not to believe that. Something was telling him to just say the hell with it and say something. What did he have to lose?

"They're probably about to cut the cake," she said suddenly. "We should probably go back inside."

Ron rubbed his face as Hermione stood and smoothed out her dress once again. He watched as the light from the tent caught her in the most incandescent way as she pushed a piece of hair behind her ear and turned towards him. She smiled awkwardly when she noticed his gaze.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

He nodded slowly as a strange sense of calm came over him. "You just…you deserve someone a lot better than Martin."

Her smile slowly began to fade. "Do I?"

He stood. "You know you do. You're way too clever for him. Way too ambitious, too classy, too caring…"

She laughed awkwardly. "You don't even know him, Ron."

"I know you, though," he said seriously. "This is all obvious from what you've told me. You're too good for him. Too beautiful, too wonderful, too amazing—"

She forced an awkward smile and looked away from him. "You know, Ron, you better watch it or else I'm going to think you've got an ulterior motive here." She laughed nervously.

He continued to stare at her. "What if I do?"

She stopped smiling and looked at him. "What if you do what?"

"You know what I meant," he said as she continued to stare at him. She looked as if she was scanning his face for any indication of whether or not he was being serious.

"Ron, I..." she stammered anxiously. "What?"

"What would you say if I told you I still had feelings for you?"

"You're drunk."

He smiled. "I actually feel pretty clear headed."

"We can't."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm still with Mar—" she began before her voice caught in her throat and she looked down. She didn't sound entirely convinced.

"You said it yourself that you wished things could be like they used to be," he said as he watched her in the midst of her internal struggle. "Ever since you said that, I've been thinking about—" He stopped. "You made me realize that I wish things could be like they used to be. Back when things were good."

"We've changed."

"That can be a good thing."

"How do you figure?"

"Because we both made some mistakes the first time around and I've learned from mine," he said as he watched her eyes start to well with tears. "The feelings are still there. You can't tell me you don't feel…" He hesitated. "Don't you?"

"Ron…" she said in a tone just barely above a whisper. She seemed completely confused about what was happening. "We can't…"

He took a step away from her and nodded. She watched him tentatively as he spoke. "Then tell me you feel nothing."

She stared at him.

"Tell me that you didn't think about me while we were standing up next to Harry and Ginny listening to that bloke talk about a love that transcends circumstance and all of that."

She continued to stare at him.

"Just say the word and I'll never bring it up again," he said, his calm demeanor cracking for the first time to show a little vulnerability in his face. "I'll never bother you with this again. I swear."

"I…" she began before she took a few steps backwards, unable to continue looking at him. "You're moving to Paris and what good would it do—"

"Ask me to stay."

Her eyes shot to his as a tear plopped down her cheek.

"Ask me to stay," he repeated as he stood there. "Ask me not to go."

"I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because I can't," she stammered. "And you already got your transfer. You have to go. They'll make you go. It's Ministry protocol and—"

"Then ask me to come back," he said. "I'd only have to go for a few months, and then I could…" He sighed and looked her in the eyes. "Ask me to come back."

She stared at him, her mouth partly open. "I can't ask you to do that."

"I just told you that you could."

"You'd come back just because I asked you to?" she asked as another tear fell down her cheek.

"I'd do a lot of things just because you asked me to," he said, staring into her eyes. "You haven't figured that out yet?"

Hermione turned back towards the tent just as someone inside announced they were soon going to cut the cake. Ron stared at the back of her wondering what she was possibly thinking. He'd put it all out there and now it was up to her.

"We need to go back inside," she said, stepping quickly forward and going straight back into the tent; leaving Ron standing on his own.