5. If you feel she may have several suitors, be sure to ask her to dance as early as possible.

Dancing is a very romantic concept – and we're not talking about Muggle rocker-type atrocities here, although that may be a plus if you're going for comedy. Most witches will enjoy the occasional excuse to dance, however short or silly – so pick an occasion, any occasion, and a gallant invitation surely won't be refused.

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Ronald's Tip: Don't make her wait just because you know she will; you never know when she might change her mind.

Sunday, August 2000

We all knew – Charlie best of all – that Mum would probably have a troll if her second-born didn't pop the question soon. It'd already been three years since Bill's wedding, and Percy wouldn't get married before Charlie on account of tradition or something, which meant Mum was bored to tears sitting alone at home and she just wanted something to do.

Anyhow, it was common knowledge that Emma was madly in love with Charlie, and Charlie with Emma, and Emma was even willing to leave her home and family in Romania to live with Charlie in London, and everybody loved Emma to bits and pieces (even Fleur).

So it all boiled down to the fact that Charlie simply wasn't man enough when it came to…well, being a man. Fred and George ended up threatening to propose for him, which scared Charlie so much he went down on his knee the very next day.

So then Mum was happy again and Emma was practically floating around in her ecstasy and we were all invited, of course, me and Hermione and Harry and Ginny and all the woeful, extended family, and hordes of Charlie's friends and old members of the Order, and some random people George thought would be funny to invite.

Of which one just happened to be Viktor Krum.

(Of course, that could have been Mum's doing, since by her standards nearly half of the Wizarding world is part of our family now, but still. I'd bet my salary it was George.)

So here I am, sorely sick of weddings and other large gatherings, though legitimately I've only been to two, and it's not just because of Mum's planning craze.

The ceremony went well – if Mum drowning out the officiating wizard with her sobs is what you'd call a successful wedding – and the transition into the reception was smoother than any of us had hoped for. There's roughly one hundred people jammed into our backyard, and while I can't say I'm not happy for Charlie, I can honestly say I'd rather be somewhere else right now.

Krum dancing with Hermione is not making things any better, either.

George and Lee had started the music as soon as the candles were lit. Charlie swept Emma onto the dance floor first, followed by Mum and Dad and Bill and Fleur. And then Krum, that sneaky arserag, stole her away while I was telling her and Harry and Kingsley and Sturgis a very funny story about a clabbert, a bundimun, and a bottomless cauldron.

I had to continue with the story as he led Hermione away, of course – would've been bad form to leave off so I could punch out an international Quidditch star in front of my Minister of Magic – so I merely spared a moment to wish him dead before going on.

And then, as my luck would have it, Hermione appeared to have quite a long list of dancing partners. They apparently included George, Lee, Krum, Emma's cousin David, Fleur's nephew Jean-Claude, Krum, Weasley cousin twice-removed Andrew, Krum, Charlie's friend Herbie, some fish-faced boy named Aleksander, and Krum.

Harry, on the other hand, had made it quite clear that Ginny was his, and his only. He didn't hog her, of course – that would have been unmanly in its own way – but he watched all her other dance partners who weren't family members with eyes like a hawk.

And now I was beginning to regret that I haven't made my very intimate relationship with Hermione more public. But then again, I didn't think I'd actually have to do that. Usually if a girl drops a horde of very precious basilisk fangs in the middle of impending doom just so she can run and kiss a bloke, it generally entails that said girl and said bloke are off limits.

But no.

So it turned out that I didn't get a chance to ask my fair lady to dance until half past ten, by which time I was slightly disgruntled and slightly more peeved. I fairly dragged her onto the dance floor, nearly knocking over Auntie Muriel as I swept past, placed her arms around my neck, and firmly informed her:

"If you dance with any man other than me for the remainder of this wedding, I will kill myself out of sheer despair and jealousy."

She laughed and went up on her toes to kiss me as George began another song. "This does remind you of a past incident, doesn't it, Sir Ronald?" she said cheekily.

"I do not find it funny in any way," I sniffed, twirling her around. "I haven't even gotten the chance to tell you that you are beyond beautiful tonight."

"Well, I suppose it wasn't your fault this time," she conceded. "There are an awful lot of guests – "

"I forbid you to speak further on the subject," I growled. "I want you, me, lots of dancing and snogging and good music, and nothing else."

"Demanding, aren't we?" she said, raising an eyebrow.

"Very," I answered.

We danced long into the night, my arm around her waist and her head resting on my shoulder. Around midnight, as we slowly revolved around the dance floor, I happened to espy – with my delighted little eye – Krum sitting at a table with a bottle of firewhiskey.

Alone.
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