Alright, let's break up the seriousness with a little bit of fluff!

This chapter also features the reading of Dumbledore's Will, so for the sake of originality, I've tried to condense it as much as possible. I don't want to copy anything that has already been written but I did want to remind anyone who might have forgotten what it was that each member of our trio received from Dumbledore. So hopefully, it doesn't feel too much like a repeat of what you already know!

Chapter 3

A wedding smack in the middle of a war was, in Hermione's opinion, a bit nonsensical. Of course, no one had asked for her opinion so here they were, getting ready for a wedding that would be taking place in the Weasley's yard.

She and Ginny had barricaded themselves in the younger witch's room to get dressed for Bill and Fleur's wedding. Hermione had only packed one formal dress in her beaded bag for this occasion specifically, knowing it was impractical to even worry about packing that, but she had known that the wedding would be happening before she, Harry, and Ron would leave the Burrow.

As she sat in Ginny's room, watching the younger girl artfully style her long red hair, her mind wandered to the events of the day before…

Hermione had been helping Ginny bake a cake for Harry's birthday when suddenly Ron had burst through the kitchen door, breathless.

"The Minister of Magic is here!" he said, shock evident in his tone. "He wants to see us."

"What?" Hermione had asked, confused. "Who is us?"

"Us!" Ron had said, pointing a finger back and forth between himself and Hermione. "Me, you, and Harry."

Five minutes later and the three of them were seated on the sofa, facing Rufus Scrimgeour uncomfortably while waiting for the older man to speak. Her absolute astonishment at his statement that all three of them had been left bequests in Albus Dumbledore's will was beyond words. Harry, she understood, but she couldn't imagine why on earth Professor Dumbledore would have left her and Ron anything.

When Scrimgeour had handed her the well-read copy of The Tales of Beetle the Bard, Hermione had merely sat there staring at it for several moments before blurting out lamely:

"Thank you, sir."

She watched as Ron was handed an object that she had neither seen nor read about before, a curious observation that was explained by the Minister when he had told them that the device was one of Dumbledore's own creations; a Deluminator, he had called it.

Next had come Harry. She had waited with bated breath as Harry had reached out to grab the golden Snitch from the cloth in which it was wrapped but tried her best to hide her disappointment when nothing had happened. She had noticed, curiously, that Scrimgeour seemed to have been waiting for something to happen, as well, and knew that he'd been expecting the same thing that she had: Dumbledore having used the flesh memory of a Snitch to hide something inside for Harry. Clearly, they had both been wrong.

"Dumbledore also left you the Sword of Godric Gryffindor."

A moment of shocked silence had followed his statement, followed by a debate between Hermione and the Minister as to the issue of rightful ownership, although it had ultimately proved pointless. Regardless of the fact that the headmaster had intended for the Sword to go to Harry (with what purpose, Hermione was not yet sure) and Scrimgeour's insistence that the sword had not been Dumbledore's to offer, the Sword was now nowhere to be found.

After offering his help to the trio and urging them to lean on their Ministry for support, saying that they were all in this together, Rufus Scrimgeour had taken his leave. The trio had sat there in silence for a moment longer before getting back to their earlier tasks, shocked at the turn of events that the day had wrought.

"Hermione?"

She was brought back to the present by Ginny's voice calling her name, only to see the redhead standing in front of her in her floor-length gold dress, hands on her hips. Hermione realized that she had no idea what the other girl had asked her.

"I'm sorry Ginny, my mind was somewhere else. What did you say?"

"Clearly," Ginny said with a huff of indulgent amusement. "I said I'm going to do your hair the way we saw in that copy of Witch Weekly."

"Oh," Hermione replied, reluctancy clear to hear, "you don't need to do that, Ginny."

"I know that. I'm doing it anyway," she said stubbornly. "Get over here."

Sitting in front of the mirror as Ginny finished with her hair, Hermione had to admit that it looked good. Ginny had made it look very sleek, the brown color that Hermione had always considered to be very dull now looking shiny and vibrant. It was pulled up toward the crown of her head, then left to cascade in curls over one shoulder, and Ginny had left several strands loose at the front to frame her face.

The dress that she wore was long and lilac in color, with little lace cap sleeves and lace detailing under the bodice. She and her mother had gone into London, to a small boutique that her mother had always adored, to pick it out together as soon as Hermione had gotten home from school that summer. Wearing it now and thinking of her mother as she remembered picking it out and trying it on with her was a bittersweet feeling.

The only jewelry she wore, apart from a simple pair of diamond studs that her parents had given her for her sixteenth birthday (an extravagance that, no matter how hard she had tried to convince herself that she didn't need, she just couldn't bring herself to leave behind), was her enchanted bracelet from Draco and the necklace that connected her to him.

She had yet to use the necklace to communicate with him even though the desire to use it had been a living, breathing entity within her; a bone-deep longing every single day that they had been apart. She would not, however, risk endangering him just because she missed him and longed to hear his voice. She had sworn to herself from the very beginning that she would only use it if there was something that needed to be communicated to him, and she would stick to that promise for as long as she could.

But wearing it brought her a measure of comfort and she never took it off; she was constantly touching it and sliding it back and forth on its chain, often without even realizing she was doing so. As she examined herself in the mirror, from her head to her feet, she thought that the overall effect was very flattering, and Hermione couldn't help but wonder what Draco would think if he could see her right now.

She grabbed her beaded purple bag, which by a happy chance was only a few shades darker than her dress and therefore didn't look out of place with her outfit, nor did it seem odd for her to be carrying it with her. She and Ginny then made their way downstairs and out to the marquee that had been erected in the yard.

Harry, who was disguised as a red-haired Weasley cousin that everyone was referring to as Barny, stood at the entrance of the marquee with Ron. It brought a hint of a smile to her lips when both boys seemed to be left a bit speechless at her appearance. They always seemed so taken aback by the fact that she cleaned up so well in a dress and with her hair and makeup done. To be honest, Hermione was certain that, most of the time, they often forgot that she was actually a girl. She would have been offended if she weren't so used to it happening by now, and as a matter of fact she had begun to find their gob smacked reactions rather humorous.

That ghost of a smile turned into a true grin when she heard her name thoroughly mispronounced in a heavily accented voice that she hadn't heard in two years. Spinning around on her heel, she saw Viktor Krum standing behind her.

"Viktor!"

She ran over to him, giving him a big hug and feeling him lift her feet from the ground as he returned her friendly embrace. She could hear Ron scoff and then begin mumbling under his breath, but she ignored him.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, shocked at his presence.

"Fleur invited me," he said, his voice slightly deeper now than she remembered. "Ve haff remained good friends."

They talked for a few minutes, then walked in together to find their seats once the ceremony was ready to begin. And it was a beautiful ceremony. There were parts that were familiar to her, traditions that had been present in both wizarding and Muggle ceremonies through most of time, but there were also aspects that Hermione had only read about in books. Having never been able to witness them in person, Hermione was engrossed in the magic that hummed through the space as their magics and souls were bound together; it was breathtaking.

At the reception, she sat at her table and watched as Bill spun Fleur around the makeshift dance floor. The beautiful blonde twirled around gracefully in her elegant white dress, and her wide blue eyes shone with pure love and adoration as she looked up at her new husband's scarred face. Hermione was happy beyond words for the two of them but as she watched the eldest Weasley pull his bride securely into his arms and heard Fleur's laughter peal throughout the tent, Hermione felt her own happiness dim at the thought of her own wizard, out there somewhere. She could see in her mind's eye the two of them in Bill and Fleur's place, and she wished for a time to come when it could be true.

Song Inspiration: Unchained Melody – The Righteous Brothers