This chapter is from the 7th book, where Ron and Hermione dance at Bill and Fluer's wedding. Please let me know if you have any more requests.

XX

(From the book)

The smile vanished from Ron's face at once: Viktor Krum had dropped into Luna's vacant seat. Hermione looked pleasurably flustered, but this time Krum had not come to compliment her. With a scowl on his face he said, "Who is that man in the yellow?"

"That's Xenophilius Lovegood, he's the father of a friend of ours," said Ron. His pugnacious tone indicated that they were not about to laugh at Xenophilius, despite the clear provocation. "Come and dance," he added abruptly to Hermione.

She looked taken aback, but pleased too, and got up.

(My writing)

Ron took Hermione's hand, leading her onto the dance floor.

"Are they together now?" Krum said to Harry.

"Er- sort of," said Harry.

Ron and Hermione could only look flustered as they began to twirl with the crowd. They had heard the last few words regarding their departure, and decided against saying anything about it.

"So," said Ron, "quite a wedding, isn't it?"

"Yes," said Hermione, "really a wonderful effort on your mum's part."

They both smiled, their hearts pounding. In truth, it was almost like the Yule Ball all over again. Hermione had her hair sleeked down again, her dress almost an exact replica as the one before. She looked like she was glowing. Ron, courtesy of Fred and George, didn't have frilly dress robes anymore, but instead handsome black and red ones.

"You know," said Hermione, "it sort of makes you wonder, doesn't it?"

"'Bout what?" said Ron. He couldn't seem to move his eyes from hers, and hoped that she took it as a compliment, as Hermione seemed to continually avert her eyes.

"About where we'll be in twenty years. It seemed to go so fast in the last 7," she said.

Ron could only nod. His thoughts were zooming in a million different directions, and all of them seemed to end on his wedding, and his hand around Hermione's waist, twirling her under the flower canopy….

But where would she be? Surely she would have found someone better, someone worthy of her brilliance. He could not imagine her saying yes to him, had he ever proposed. He was a stupid prat, completely immature, and a total arse when it came to Hermione.

He still couldn't imagine himself without her. Surely she felt some sort of spark between them when they touched like this? It wasn't right that she could look so composed when he felt so completely ruffled. No matter where he looked, he could only see himself dancing with the girl in front of him. She, of course, could be dancing with anyone.

"It almost makes you forget," Hermione began again. Ron looked at her with raised eyebrows, his eyes yet to leave her face. "You know, about Voldemort. Everything goes on, doesn't it? Even when everything is falling apart."

He had to think for a moment. Maybe, this time, if he sounded like he knew a lot, like he really was mature, then she could love him the way he loved her. "Yeah, well, things have to keep themselves going." He couldn't think of anything mature. There was nothing to say. "Because, I suppose, when it stops that's when it really falls apart."

Hermione smiled. He was the most wonderfully stupid person she had ever been lucky enough to meet. He had no competition: she could only see herself in his arms.

But what, she thought, would happen ten hours from now? Would he be gone and dead, killed by one of Voldemort's many waiting hands? Or would she be gone, killed off the same way as so many? It was impossible to know, and it made her want to hold onto him all the more tighter.

In twenty years, she would not be with Krum. She would not be with some faceless man, or even one of the many boys she knew. She would be with Ron, and if he didn't have the guts to propose what was wanted and needed, then she would do it all. She would do everything, just for him.

The song changed, the melody slower and sweeter than before. The sun licked the sky one more time, in a flurry of orange and red, then disappeared completely. Ron and Hermione held onto each other, both ever-present in the future. Both holding each other tighter than ever.

Sure, Ron was a insufferable prat with the emotional range of a teaspoon, but she loved him with all her heart. She saw herself in his arms for the rest of her life. She could not see herself anywhere but.