The wedding reception was in full swing when Ron Weasley found himself standing at the edge of the crowd, staring at the couple twirling gracefully on the dance floor. Charlie Weasley and Hermione Granger, now Hermione Weasley, looked perfect together—Charlie's easy-going smile never left his face, and Hermione beamed as if she were walking on air.
The grand ballroom at the Burrow had been transformed, enchanted to accommodate the entire Weasley family, extended friends, and a few Ministry colleagues. Twinkling lights floated above them, casting a warm, golden glow over the tables covered in soft linens and bouquets of wildflowers. Music played softly from an invisible orchestra, and the air was filled with laughter and conversation.
But Ron's eyes were locked on the dance floor, on them. Hermione looked more beautiful than he had ever seen her, in a simple but elegant dress that flowed with each spin and dip, her curls pinned back with delicate pearls. She was laughing, her face lit with that brilliant smile Ron had once hoped would be reserved for him.
Charlie dipped her low, making her laugh even harder. The sight of them—so easy, so natural—made something deep inside Ron ache.
He remembered the first time he realized Hermione was more than his brilliant best friend. It was during the Yule Ball, her in that periwinkle blue dress, her hair up in a way he had never seen before. She had been radiant then, too. But back then, he was too caught up in his own pride and insecurities to tell her how he really felt. He hadn't understood it, hadn't been ready for it.
And so, he let her slip away.
Ron shifted his weight from foot to foot, clutching his drink a little tighter. The guests around him were laughing, clapping along to the music, but their noise felt like a distant hum. All he could see was Hermione, wrapped in Charlie's arms, moving in perfect sync with him.
When had things between her and Charlie become more than just friendship? Ron had been away a lot over the years, first with work, then traveling with George as they expanded Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. He hadn't been around to notice the subtle shift between Hermione and his older brother. Maybe it happened during those late-night talks at the Burrow, or when they had both worked on dragon conservation efforts in Romania. Ron hadn't seen it coming.
If he was being honest with himself, part of him had always imagined it would be him dancing with Hermione at her wedding, not Charlie.
But it wasn't.
The music swelled, and Ron's chest tightened as Charlie leaned down to kiss Hermione, soft and lingering, as if they were the only two people in the room. The guests erupted in cheers, raising their glasses in a toast, but Ron couldn't find it in himself to join in. His drink felt like lead in his hand, and for a moment, he wasn't standing there with his family—he was alone, lost in the what-ifs.
What if he had been brave enough to tell her how he felt back in Hogwarts, before the war, before everything got so complicated? What if he had been the one to stay close, the one she leaned on through all those difficult years after? He had always thought he and Hermione were inevitable, that somehow, they'd find their way back to each other.
But watching her now, it was clear that time had passed. She was happy with Charlie. The way they moved together, so in tune with each other, spoke of a love that was built on something strong, something real.
Ron swallowed hard, the knot in his throat tightening. He wasn't one for regrets, not usually. He had made his choices, just as Hermione had made hers. But that didn't stop him from wondering, from imagining how different things might have been if he had been just a little less scared, a little more willing to fight for her.
The song slowed to a gentle conclusion, and Charlie pulled Hermione in close, resting his forehead against hers, their smiles soft, intimate. The crowd clapped again, and the couple reluctantly parted as the next song began to play.
Ron watched as Harry made his way over to Hermione, offering her a dance with a teasing grin. She accepted, laughing as Harry twirled her with a bit too much enthusiasm. Charlie walked off the dance floor, shaking hands with friends and clapping Bill on the shoulder. He spotted Ron standing by the edge of the room and walked over.
"Enjoying yourself?" Charlie asked, his smile bright, oblivious to the storm churning inside his younger brother.
Ron forced a grin. "Yeah, it's been a great night," he said, trying to sound normal, casual. He had no right to feel anything but happy for them, and yet…
Charlie gave him a playful nudge. "You should get out there, you know. Tons of people waiting to dance with you."
"Yeah," Ron muttered, glancing over at Hermione, who was laughing again as Harry tripped over his own feet. "Maybe later."
Charlie raised an eyebrow but didn't push. "Alright, well, don't wait too long. You know Mum's going to drag you out there if you don't make a move first." He clapped Ron on the shoulder, then turned to head back to his new wife.
Ron watched as Charlie rejoined Hermione, pulling her into another dance, his hand resting at the small of her back like it belonged there.
And maybe it did.
Ron took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he turned away from the dance floor. He moved toward the far side of the room, finding a quiet corner where he could watch without being watched. The celebration continued around him, but he felt oddly distant from it all, like a shadow, unseen and unimportant.
He had always thought he'd have more time to figure things out. He never thought he'd be standing here, watching the woman he once loved—maybe still loved—marry his brother.
The weight of what could have been pressed down on him, heavier than he expected. But he pushed it aside, knowing it was too late for regrets. Hermione had made her choice. And she was happy. That was all that mattered.
Still, as the music played on, Ron couldn't shake the feeling that, for him, he'd always be dancing on his own.
