notes: Again, cheers to my three reviewers, Indigo Lily, rainy. day. dreams and mit1 - hope everyone who reads this likes it. Enjoy.
our dancing days
iv. fallen from grace
hermioneron
"Y-y-y-y-"
"Ronald Weasley, is anything of sense ever going to come out of your mouth?" Hermione asks, raising a dark eyebrow at the stuttering man.
"You look drop-dead gorgeous," he finally breathes, looking his girlfriend appreciatively up and down. She blushes, and leans down so that her hair covers most of her face.
"I'll take that as a no to the sense comment, then," she mutters, and he laughs, taking her arm and steering her towards the canopy that rests magically above them. She is dressed in cream and gold, and Ron thinks that she's never looked more angelic.
"You nervous?" he asks, surveying the crowds finally pouring into the expanded space.
"Nervous?" she squeaks in return. "I'm terrified! My best friends are getting married! It's my first wedding! I feel as stressed as though it were my own wedding!" She gushes, her hair already frazzling in the hot summer heat.
"Breathe, 'Mione, it's going to be fine. It's Harry and Ginny, for god's sake. Plus, Mum will murder anyone who even attempts to get it wrong, so all distractions and imperfections will be subtly removed."
"Not helping, Ronald."
"Somehow, I got that," he joked, and her chocolate eyes glared. "If this helps, though," and he gives her a light kiss. She smiles weakly back.
Suddenly, Hermione turns to where Harry is tightening the neck of his formal black and cream dress robes, looking as nervous as hell. She lunges herself at him, and Ron represses the urge to roll his eyes. It's an amazing display of self-control. "You alright, mate?"
"No," Harry replies honestly, tugging at his sleeves. "I'm bloody terrified." Ron cracks a grin.
"Harry James Potter," Hermione hisses, turning her glare onto full. "If you so much as consider backing out and leaving poor Ginny at the altar, mark my words, you will regret the day you ever got your Hogwarts letter and met me. Are we clear?"
He thinks she looks like an angel, fallen from grace to avenge mankind. He sighs wistfully.
Turning, he sees Ginny hiding behind a tent set up for the food and drinks of the reception. She's breathing deeply in and out of a brown, Muggle paper bag. He raises an eyebrow at her, and takes a seat next to her on the grass.
"So... big day, huh?"
"You're such an arse, Ron," she replies, pulling her face away from the bag. He raises his hands in surrender.
"Don't shoot the best man, Gin, it doesn't call for a perfect wedding. And why are you breathing into a Muggle paper bag anyway? You're not ill, are you?"
"Somebody said it might help," she mutters. "And of course I'm bloody ill. It's my wedding day. I have been stressing over this for months, been planning this for years, and it's all for these few hours. I am going insane. I feel like Mum when Charlie's coming home and she wants to pull a big party and we end up having pizza. I can't have pizza instead of a wedding, Ron, I can't," she sobs.
"Well then," he says as the wedding music starts to play. "I suppose we'd better get this wedding started and hide the pizza then, shouldn't we?"
She laughs and waits outside of the room, tapping her foot noisily and standing next to Dad. Ron takes Hermione's arm as they walk down the aisle together, best man and maid-of-honour. He flashes a grin at George, who sticks his tongue out in retaliation.
"Never thought I'd be doing this," he whispers, and she giggles.
"Tell me about it." There's a pause and only the wedding music, their footsteps and angels falling silently from grace can be heard. "Are you nervous?" Ron only laughs.