Part V - August 1, 1997

"Come dance with me."

Hermione didn't realize at first that Ron was talking to her. In fact, she felt that familiar twinge of jealousy before she saw Harry's gaze shifting towards her and she pieced together that Ron was, in fact, asking her to dance.

Blushing, she got up and followed him off to the dance floor, feeling like her hand was on fire as he held it in his. A part of her knew Ron asked her to dance because of Viktor, but she also knew he asked her because he wanted to, too.

"Are you having fun?" Ron asked her as they stepped on the dance floor.

Hermione nodded, smiling around the room. "It's a beautiful wedding. You must be so happy for Bill."

"I am. He deserves to be with someone like Fleur."

"Oh, so you're not jealous anymore, are you?" she teased, loving when his ears turned red.

Without answering, he spun her and swiftly brought her back to him, pressing her chest against his. Even when Hermione was wearing heels, he was impossibly taller than her, tall enough that he was able to rest his chin on top of her head when she leaned her head against his chest. Their friendship had finally gone back to some kind of normal since Ron's epic love affair with Lavender Brown last year, and they were able to sit comfortably with each other in silence.

"Do you think you'll have one of these one day?" he asked.

Hermione looked up at him, squinting her eyes against the sun. "A wedding?" she clarified. He nodded, and she shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. I'd like to have a wedding one day, but I don't see that happening any time soon. Not with the war. We promised Harry we'd be with him. He comes first right now."

Immediately, Hermione knew it was the wrong thing to say. Ron's eyes darkened slightly, and his body stiffened against hers. She hadn't meant it like that, of course she hadn't, but it was true. There was no way she could think of getting married at seventeen during a war!

"I suppose you're right," Ron said quietly.

"What about you? Do you want a wedding?"

Ron raised his eyebrows at her, thinking his answer through. "Yeah, I do. I'd make it big, or small, or however the hell she wanted it, whoever I end up marrying. Or maybe I'll just do what Fred said."

Hermione laughed. "You wouldn't," she said, grinning widely.

"I would! Mum is completely mad. She's downright scary sometimes, with the way she obsesses over everything." He cocked his head to the side, observing her in mock interest. "Kind of reminds me of you sometimes, actually."

She could tell by the smile fighting its way onto his lips that he was just kidding, but she still playfully shoved his chest. "Oh, shut up. I'm not that bad."

Ron's smile slowly faded and then he was looking into her eyes with meaning and strong intent. "You're not that bad," he agreed seriously, and they looked at each other with laughter dancing in their eyes and a constant fluttering in their chests.

There was something incredibly intimate about dancing, Hermione realized as he spun her around once more only to dip her dramatically low just to get her to laugh, which she obviously did. She felt light as air, dancing with Ron at his brother's wedding, and for a moment she could close her eyes and forget that they were in the midst of a war that could come knocking on their doorstep any second. She didn't want to admit her fear to anybody, especially Ron and Harry, but here and now, there was no fear. She would have to leave her life behind as soon as possible, that was true, but there was no pressure. This wedding seemed to act as a shield for all the guests present, for those who were desperate and afraid. Sometimes, Hermione thought, people forget that we're just kids and only focus on the saving-the-world part.

After a while, the music had switched to a more slow, romantic song, and Hermione feared for a moment that Ron would lead her back to the table where Harry was. But instead, he just held her tighter, as if he was scared that if he let go of her for one second, she'd slip through his fingers. As if that would ever happen. No matter if he realized it or not, Ron had Hermione in a tight embrace, one that she was content to stay wrapped up in for years. Even forever, if time and fate would allow it.

Eventually, though, someone was bound to disrupt their quiet peace. And that someone just so happened to be George Weasley, walking up to them with a bounce to his step, mirth swimming around in his eyes as he looked between the two of them and asked Ron if he could cut in with exaggerated politeness.

Ron disappeared to get a drink while George his took his younger brother's place.

He opened his mouth to say something and Hermione, seeing this, cut him off before he got a word out. "Don't start," she said. "Not today."

George's expression changed, going from teasing to serious in half a second. "I guess today of all days isn't the day to be making jokes about love, is it?"

Hermione cocked her head to the side, allowing George to twirl her before answering. "No, I suppose it isn't."

He rested his hand on her hip as he guided her through the song, sighing heavily. "A lot of people think he doesn't deserve you," he remarked casually, ignoring her shocked expression. "Me and Fred disagree, though. We think you're perfect for each other."

She rolled her eyes. "Please. I don't think anything is going to happen between me and Ron."

"Then you're blind," George said bluntly.

Hermione didn't answer, and it seemed they would finish the song without any more words exchanged between them. But George was never able to keep quiet. "Just. . . hurry up and do it, already. We've been waiting for a long time for you two to get together."

"And who's 'we', may I ask?" Hermione asked sarcastically.

"Well, there's me and Fred," George said seriously, releasing his hand and keeping the other on her waist so he could count off on his fingers. "Then there's Ginny. Bill, too, he asked me why he hasn't seen you kissing yet. That's four. Harry, I'm sure, is wondering when you'll put him out of the misery of watching you two making eyes at each other all day. Lavender Brown must have guessed something was going on. Oh, I almost forgot Mum and Dad, too. And plenty more."

Hermione was bright red at this point, avoiding George's eyes. Thankfully, Ron appeared right as the song finished, telling George to leave with very little tact. "Do you want to dance some more?" he asked, hope lacing his voice.

She thought of what George had told her, about all the people hoping to see her and Ron together at some point. She smiled brightly and took his hand in a quick motion. "Of course," she said.

They didn't speak for the next few songs, just dancing silently. She could practically feel George burning holes into the back of her head as he observed them curiously from across the tent. And Hermione, trying her hardest to ignore what suddenly felt like millions of pairs of eyes watching them, closed her own and took a deep breath to steady her nerves. It was just Ron, she tried to tell herself. But there was a voice in the back of her head telling her that it had never been just Ron. This was the boy who sacrificed himself on a chess board when he was twelve without knowing the consequences, who risked going through his greatest fear to save her when she was Petrified at thirteen, and stood up on his broken leg to defend Harry against Sirius when he was fourteen. He got jealous over her and Krum, told her that she was the most brilliant person he'd ever met, pushed her until she thought she'd break and at the same time was able to make her laugh until she felt tears running down her face. It was Ron, and it had always been more since that night on Halloween during first year.

"Ron," Hermione said, opening her eyes and catching him looking down at her with wonderment dancing in his expression. "I-"

But whatever she was about to say, whatever confession she had been planning on spitting out with all of her courage, was cut short. Because at that very moment, the war came knocking at their doorstep.