Hermione Granger and the Deathly Hallows

You are the strength that keeps me walking

You are the hope that keeps me trusting

You are the light into my soul

You are my purpose

You're everything...

You calm the storms

And you give me rest

You hold me in your hands

You won't let me fall

You steal my heart

And you take my breath away

Would you take me in?

Take me deeper now...

**

Ginny Weasley tossed the empty bottle of Sleak-Eazy's potion into the waste bin and examined the results with a careful eye. "Well, I must say," she said while turning around in front of the mirror to examine her bridesmaid's dress from all angles. "We are stunning."

"I suppose," Hermione said distractedly as she struggled to find the best place to the bobby pin in her hand, holding ten more in her mouth. Although her hair was once again as sleek and shiny as it was at the Yule Ball, she still had a lot of hair to pin up.

Ginny noticed her friend's struggle and hurried over to cup her hand protectively over the twist of hair Hermione was trying to secure. She extracted her wand to hold it in place with a quick spell. "Here, I can do that now. Just keep still." Hermione gratefully spat out the bobby pins and let Ginny take over. She had never been any good at arranging her hair in any other way besides a ponytail, bun, or pigtails. She had a feeling that those particular hairstyles wouldn't be particularly appropriate today. Besides, it would be a nice opportunity to spend a little more time with Ginny.

Ginny must have been thinking the same thing. Hermione could feel that her hand was shaking ever so slightly as she expertly pushed a pin into Hermione's hair. "So you'll leave tomorrow?"

"I imagine so," Hermione answered lightly although her heartbeat automatically accelerated at the thought. They were really going to do this. She could hardly believe it. "Harry's been a bit anxious to be off."

"Yeah, I can see that," Ginny noted quietly. She seized a fresh bottle of Sleek-Eazy and opened it so she could pour another dollop into her hand. "You need a bit more," she told Hermione before working the gel through Hermione's now-straightened locks. "He mentioned something about killing You-Know-Who," Ginny continued. "He said he was joking, but I don't think he was." She met Hermione's eyes in the mirror. "Can you at least tell me if he was?"

Hermione held her gaze. "I think you know the answer to that."

Ginny had to take a moment before continuing to pin Hermione's hair. A lock of crimson hair fell across her forehead, but Ginny didn't push it away. "I knew it," she breathed. "I knew that's what he was doing; he has to do it, doesn't he?"

Hermione couldn't answer that particular question, so Ginny didn't push the matter. "It is. I can tell. You can see it in his face." She looked towards the window and inhaled slowly in hopes of breathing him in again. She really wished that Harry didn't have to use a disguise today; she would loved to see just how amazing he would have looked in his dress robes. Before she could lose herself completely, she returned her attention to Hermione's hair, chuckling past her melancholy. "It's funny how much you can miss someone even if he's standing right next to you."

Hermione thought about walking down the corridor with Ron, forced to patrol with him even though it made her heart ache to be with him. She nodded sympathetically. "I know what you mean."

"I mean, I'm fine, most of the time, I do well enough in front of Harry," Ginny carried on as she resumed her task. "I know that he needs me to act like everything's fine so he doesn't feel awful, but Merlin, sometimes he looks at me like that and I just--" Ginny broke off with a shake of her head. The back of her fingers rose to press against her heart. "Everything just stops. It's just like it was before and I think that maybe, somehow, in spite of everything he has to do, we could somehow..." Ginny trailed off and shook her head again, knowing that it could never be.

"You will though," Hermione told her. She knew Harry well enough to know that once this was over, Harry wouldn't deny what was happening between him and Ginny any longer. Harry never denied his heart of anything. "Eventually."

Ginny came around to face Hermione directly, deadly serious. She need an honest answer. "Do you think Harry will make it?"

"Yes," Hermione answered almost instantly. They couldn't go through all of this without a happy ending. She couldn't throw herself into the Horcrux mess without the hope that Harry would survive all of this.

Ginny looked at her friend for a long moment, wishing that she was a master Occlumens. Hermione just stared right back. Abruptly, Ginny broke away and flapped her hand impatiently at her stinging eyes. "I'm sorry I'm such a mess," Ginny apologized. She sniffed once and returned to her position behind Hermione and slid three more bobby pins into place.

"You're anything but a mess," Hermione contradicted somewhat sharply, remembering just how cross and horrible she had been after Ron had chosen Lavender over her. In her opinion, Ginny was handling the situation quite admirably.

Ginny smiled at her in the mirror. "Thanks for lying," she said sincerely, "but we know that's anything but true."

Hermione chose to change the subject. "I'm sorry you didn't get much of a chance to see him while he was here," Hermione said. She rolled her eyes impatiently as she thought about what had transpired in this very room yesterday morning. "And I'm definitely sorry Ron's an idiot."

Ginny didn't even have to ask what Hermione was referring to. She too rolled her eyes. "Believe me, no one's sorrier than I am. That was some of my best work."

"I can imagine," Hermione repeated as she recalled the dazed, blissful look on Harry's face. She had never seen Harry look like that: as if all of his problems were whisked clean away. Ginny was the only person who had ever made him forget that he was Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, and made him feel like just Harry. "You scarred Ron for life, you know."

"It's good for him," Ginny shot back. "And besides, I had to make Harry remember me while you're gone, didn't I?"

"He will," Hermione promised. "He always would, but now he definitely will."

Ginny tossed her head back and laughed, blinking her eyes rapidly. "He better." She certainly would be thinking about him. She carefully set the last bobby pin in place and came around to examine Hermione from the front. She nodded in satisfaction. "I think we've got it. Take a look."

Hermione shifted her position on the chair so she could examine her reflection. It was the same arrangement as the Yule Ball, but now, three years later, it somehow made her look even more elegant and radiant. She must be growing up after all. "It's perfect, Ginny," she said warmly. "Thank you."

"Anytime," Ginny said swiftly. "And don't worry about Crookshanks," she added. "I'll take good care of him."

"I know you will," Hermione said as she clicked her fingers at her cat who had been napping on her cot. He bounded over to her and Hermione stroked his fur, carefully not to let him anywhere near her dress. The last thing she needed was ginger cat hair to get all over her. "Just don't let him eat Pig." Ginny would also be taking Pigwidgeon to Hogwarts with her.

"I'll do my best," Ginny promised. She winced as she glanced at her watch. "Damn. We better go. Fleur wantz to start ze wedding on time."

Hermione however didn't move just yet. She was still a little worried about her friend. "Are you sure you're going to be okay?" She felt rather awful about abandoning Ginny; Hogwarts wasn't going to be the most friendly place this year.

"'Course," Ginny said with a lot more courage than she actually felt. She smoothed down her gold dress. "I may be losing a brother, a boyfriend, and a best friend, but hey, at least I got a cat and an owl."

Hermione saw right through her friend's jokes and just crossed over to give her a warm hug good-bye. She probably wouldn't have the chance tomorrow morning. "I'll take care of him," Hermione promised her. "I'll bring him back to you."

"And while you're at it, bring my brother back, will you?"

"I will."

Ginny tightened her arms around her best friend. "And you come back too."

Hermione had to mash her face to keep from crying. She really was going to miss Ginny Weasley. "I will."

Ginny stepped back and swabbed at her eyes again, once again putting on her air of bright cheerfulness. "Well, that's enough of that." She checked the mirror to make sure her makeup wasn't smudged. "I should go help Phlegm; duties of a bridesmaid."

"I'll come with you." They ascended the stairs to find Fleur in Bill's old room, fussing with her simple but stunning wedding dress. Hermione had rather expected her to be decked out in a diamond-studded full-length gown, but she supposed that Fleur didn't need to. Her veela blood was enough to make her the most gorgeous woman in the room. Hermione suddenly hoped that Ron had somehow gone blind. Mrs. Delacour was helping Fleur arrange her train, beaming with pride while Gabrielle sat on the bed, sighing in envy at everything, already mentally planning her own wedding. Mrs. Weasley was setting a tiara on Fleur's head and an elderly witch in a pink feathery hat stood off the side, offering her advice on everything but doing nothing to help herself. Ginny quickly swore and tried to push Hermione back out of the room, but the woman's red-rimmed eyes had already fastened on the girl in gold. "Ginerva!"

"Damn," Ginny breathed. She met Hermione's eyes contritely. "I'm sorry," she mouthed to her before wheeling around with a very fake smile. "Auntie Muriel! How good to see you!"

"If you're going to lie, Ginerva, at least do it well," Muriel scolded. She looked her niece up and down with a grunt. "Where'd you get those calluses on your fingers?"

Ginny quickly clasped her hands behind her back so Muriel could no longer see the offending items. "From Quidditch, Auntie Muriel. I play Quidditch at school."

Muriel gasped as if a house-elf was being beaten. "That is no place for a lady!"

"Well, thank Merlin, I'm not one," Ginny quipped with a quick grin. Muriel gave her a stern look over her beaky nose and Ginny stifled the rest of her laughter. "Ladies shouldn't be funny either, should they?"

Before Muriel could respond to Ginny's cheek, Mrs. Weasley gave her daughter a warning look and nodded to Hermione. "This is Ron's friend, Hermione, Muriel--"

"Oh dear, is this the Muggle-born?" Muriel exclaimed indignantly, a weathered hand clasping over her chest. She recoiled as though Hermione had just brandished her wand at her.

"I don't bite," Hermione said under her breath. Ginny was the only one who heard her and had to stuff a fist over her mouth to contain her laughter.

Muriel looked Hermione up and down in a similar manner as she had just inspected Ginny. "Bad posture and skinny ankles," she proclaimed. Hermione quickly looked down to peek at her ankles. She was already aware of her slightly hunched posture; Ron had always warned her not to carry so many books over her shoulders. She had actually hoped that the heels would have helped her carry herself more elegantly, but not only had she failed, but apparently the high heels also managed to highlight her much too skinny ankles. Muriel watched her with a disapproving 'tsk'. "Molly, you better not let Ronald marry that one."

Mrs. Weasley flushed almost as brightly as Hermione. "Muriel, this is hardly--"

"This is the Muggle-born you told me about, isn't she?" Muriel prattled on, oblivious to how rude she was being. "And you know what I think about Muggle blood mixing with pure--"

"I think that's my cue to leave," Hermione said loudly as she crossed out of the bedroom before her temper could get the best of her. She had never expected a member of Ron's own family, the most tolerant family she had ever known, would have such a backwards conception of marriage. If she and Ron wanted to marry--where on earth were those thoughts coming from? Being surrounded by pre-wedding chores for so many days must be addling her brain. Hermione made sure no one in the bedroom noticed her departure before slipping up to Ron's room. She needed to grab one more thing before going to the ceremony.

Ron had finally tidied his room so Hermione hardly recognized it. She went to the closet to find the small beaded bag that lay on one of the shelves. She picked it up experimentally and shook it. This morning, she had finally loaded the hundreds of items she and Ron had been collecting and storing in the closet into the purse. She wanted to be ready to leave at a moment's notice; Harry might want to take off as soon as the ceremony was over. She had a feeling that he could only sit around and gawk at Ginny for so long. Hermione clutched the purse, nerves struggling to get the best of her again, as it once again hit her just how dire their situation was. This was really happening. This was really happening very soon.

To distract herself, she scanned the closet one final time to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything even though she had triple-checked the list only a few hours ago. Ron had thrown some last minute items in there, but she really didn't think they had to take a chess set or comic books. They weren't going to have that much time for fun and games. There were a few books crammed in a corner so Hermione knelt down to inspect them; they could never have too many books. The first two were Ron's spellbooks from first and second year, but the third book was the one that really caught her interest. It was small, thin black book with the title simply stamped in white: Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches.

For a moment, Hermione couldn't react. She could only stare, not believing that someone was actually idiotic to write such a thing. As she flipped through the pages, complete with diagrams, a fit of giggles overwhelmed her. Ron was actually reading this rubbish. Not only that, he was using it. There was a very specific chapter on the importance of chivalry: pulling chairs out for the lady, always supplying a handkerchief for her if she needed it, always giving the lady compliments, yielding to her side of an argument--Hermione had to sit down on the ground to hold her ribs; she was giving herself a stitch in her side. That was why he had given up on that row about her parents so easily. He had thought that it would help his chances with her. He actually reading a how-to book would help his chances with her. She promptly opened her bag and dropped the book inside, not caring that it wouldn't be sorted properly. This was too good of an opportunity to pass up.

On a hunch, Hermione rummaged through the other books collecting dust on the floor, but she didn't find what she was looking for. She got back to her feet and her quick eye surveyed the now-clean room and focused on the nightstand, the one area of Ron's room she hadn't explored. She felt a little guilty going through Ron's things, but he had given her permission to sort through his belongings so she opened the drawer. Her laughter subsided into a soft smile. So You Want the Emotional Capability of a Tablespoon lay inside. Apparently, Ron valued the book too highly to toss it haphazardly into the closet with the rest of his books. She picked it up and flipped through it. The pages had been folded back, as if Ron had pressed them down so he could prop up the small book on his pillow and read it by wand-light. He had actually read it. She had always wondered if he had. Of course, he seemed to be following Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches a bit more strictly; she certainly had never written in her book about giving her a handkerchief. But he had indeed read her book. He had cared enough to read her book. Ron really could be such a wonderful idiot.

Curiously, Hermione examined the other few items that lay within the drawer, which seemed to contain Ron's most precious belongings. The Omniculars that Harry had given him at the World Cup, a copy of the Daily Prophet with his family in Egypt on the front page, his Chocolate Frog collection, and a photograph were also included in the small space. Hermione extracted the photograph so she could examine it. Like her, Ron also kept a picture of the three of them at his bedside. This one had been taken at Christmastime at Grimmauld Place: Harry was seated on the drawing-room couch, wearing his new Christmas sweater and playing Ron in chess; Ron was on the floor, the chessboard on the coffee table between them, smug as he deftly made all the right moves; Hermione was curled up with the book Harry had given her, engrossed in her studies except when she would look up every now and then to make a clever retort or shoot a secret smile at Ron which he would always eagerly return. Hermione watched the three of them wave to the camera, looking remarkably contented and well-rested. No wonder Ron kept this picture; it was one of the few instances where all three of them had been really happy.

She considered slipping the photograph into the beaded bag, but she was afraid that she'd lose it in the mess. Hermione very carefully returned the photo to its proper place and closed the drawer slowly so none of his belongings would be jostled. She wanted everything to be its proper place when Ron came home.

She glanced out the window to see if she could find Ron in the sea of elegantly-dressed guests. She suddenly couldn't wait to see him. Most people wouldn't be able to pick him out in the crowd of red-heads, but Hermione had always been able to find Ron anywhere and spotted him escorting his Great-Aunt Muriel to her seat. She could tell even from here that he was desperate to get away from her. Hermione eagerly hurried down the stairs, tottering a little on her high heels, and emerged into the back yard. It took a bit of time to make her way through the throngs of people, but she finally caught sight of Ron again, talking to Harry while mopping his forehead and looking as though he had just survived a battle with a Blast-Ended Skrewt. A rush of pixies assaulted her stomach, but Hermione ignored them, took a deep breath, and approached her best friends.

"--like they care, they're going to end up richer than anyone in the family, rate they're going..." Ron's eyes finally found her and a bolt of lightning streaked between them. Her brains threatened to sail right out of her head, but Hermione forced herself to remain as level-headed as always. She however couldn't seem to stop herself from grinning like an idiot. "Wow," he said rather dumbly, blinking rather rapidly as Hermione finally reached them. He looked as though he had just been clubbed on the head with a Bludger. "You look great!"

"Always the tone of surprise," she shot coyly at him. Ron pushed down a laugh as he recognized her joke. She wished someone could document this moment as the first time she had ever managed to intelligently flirt with Ron without blushing or dropping her books or some other ridiculous act. She strategically swung her hair in the way Ginny had taught her as she continued on. "Your Great-Aunt Muriel doesn't agree, I just met her upstairs while she was giving Fleur the tiara. She said, 'Oh dear, is this the Muggle-born?' and then, 'Bad posture and skinny ankles.'"

"Don't take it personally, she's rude to everyone," said Ron. He was looking her up and down, just like Muriel, but without a trace of self-important judgment and he definitely wasn't looking at her ankles.

"Talking about Muriel?" inquired George, reemerging from the marquee with Fred. "Yeah, she's just told me my ears are lopsided. Old bat. I wish old Uncle Bilius was still with us, though; he was a right laugh at weddings."

It took all of the self-control she had not to laugh. Hermione shot a glance over at Ron who had turned his head away from her to hide his snicker. "Wasn't he the one who saw a Grim and died twenty-four hours later?" asked Hermione with mock-innocence. She wondered if there was any subtle way she could slip in the very interesting fact that Ron's teddy bear was named after their beloved uncle.

"Well, yeah, he went a bit odd toward the end," conceded George.

"But before he went loopy he was the life and soul of the party," said Fred. "He used to down an entire bottle of firewhisky, then run onto the dance floor, hoist up his robes, and start pulling bunches of flowers out of his--"

"Yes, he sounds a real charmer," Hermione cut in, not needing to hear anymore. The lovely mental image she had would be enough to last a lifetime. Harry had nearly fallen over with laughter. Fred and George joined in, but Ron turned to Hermione.

"Never married, for some reason," said Ron seriously. He looked so good, Hermione didn't think she had ever seen him look so attractive as he did right now, in his navy-blue dress robes, grinning at her like that. He looked so handsome that he somehow managed to make her feel prettier just by being lucky enough to be in his presence.

Not quite sure what possessed her to say it, Hermione shook her head fondly at her best friend. "You amaze me," she told him sincerely. His face brightened with the unexpected compliment and the couple couldn't stand it any longer; they both exploded into laughter. Hermione actually had to take a hold of Ron's arm to keep herself upright. She could feel his excitement bubbling in his own skin merging with hers until they were both so giddy and ecstatic that Hermione didn't think she would ever be miserable again. She rather wished she could freeze this moment; she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she would use this moment whenever she had to cast a Patronus.

Of course, that was the moment Viktor Krum chose to hold out his invitation to Ron, his eyes burning right through her as they had three years ago at the Yule Ball. "You look vunderful."

Son. Of. A. Bitch.

"Viktor!" Hermione shrieked and dropped her small beaded bag, which made a loud thump quite disproportionate to its size. Damn, she swore again as she scrambled to pick it up, blushing. She shouldn't have been so cocky a few minutes ago when she had so coolly approached Ron without blushing or dropping things. Now she had done both and perhaps had given away that this wasn't an ordinary purse. "I didn't know you were--goodness--it's lovely to see--how are you?"

She couldn't seem to string together a proper sentence any time in the near future so she kept her mouth shut and risked a glance at Ron. His ears were the telltale shade of bright red. Hermione internally cringed as she remembered that after discovering Cormac McLaggen had once kissed her against her will, he had given McLaggen heavy doses of Dark Mark candy which left him ill for hours afterwards; Hermione couldn't imagine what Ron would try to do to someone she had willingly kissed many times.

Ron's hand shot forward; Hermione poised to jump in between the two men if necessary, but Ron only took Viktor's invitation and glanced at it as if he did not believe a word of it. "How come you're here?" he demanded loudly.

"Fleur invited me," said Krum, eyebrows raised. He then turned to Hermione as if to ask what was wrong, but Hermione stared down at her high heels, heart pounding. She and Viktor had only had one row and that row had been about Ron. Viktor had always suspected she and Harry had been more than friends, but after Harry had allayed his suspicions, Viktor had turned his attention to Ron. Hermione had denied it, but Viktor hadn't bought it and always disliked Ron ever since. She and Viktor had ended things ages ago, but he certainly wasn't looking at her like they were just friends. And like Ron, Viktor had a bit of a jealous side; if Ron pushed him, he would be all too happy to fight back.

Harry had interceded, shaking Viktor's hand and offering to show him to his seat. Hopefully, Harry would seat Viktor as far away from Ron as humanly possible. She could feel Ron shifting restlessly next to her, longing to attack, but Fred's voice stopped him.

"You know," Fred marveled loudly, "I always wondered just how that git could even see the Snitch over that fat nose of his."

"Yeah? I always wondered how he managed to walk in a straight line with those fat feet of his," George supplied.

They both turned to Ron as it was his turn, but Ron couldn't join in the game. He just stared down the aisle with a clenched jaw. One of his fists opened and closed threateningly.

"Don't," Hermione begged very quietly, not caring that Fred and George were listening her. She finally looked up at Ron whose ears were still a robust shade of scarlet. "I kissed him; is that so horrible?"

Ron's head snapped sharply towards her, but he didn't respond. Hermione stared back pleadingly at him, silently reminding him that Viktor definitely wasn't who she wanted to be kissing right now. They didn't say a word.

Fred let out a low whistle. "Well, this is awkward."

"Well, thank Merlin they're starting," George said as he stuck his thumb towards the approaching wedding party. The four of them hurried down the aisle to find their seats. Hermione sat between Harry and Ron, her cheeks still pink. She couldn't believe this was happening, today of all days. And she certainly couldn't believe that she had just said that to Ron. She may have made things worse.

The ceremony was starting. Hermione forced herself not to dwell on her past mistakes--which was very difficult to do--and watch Fleur take Bill's hand and approach the wizard who was presiding over the service. Hermione had never been to a wedding before so she had never understood why some women--and Hagrid--cried at such a happy occasion. But as she watched the couple take their vows, she began to understand. There was something so beautiful about witnessing two people so obviously in love promising to spend their lives together. It was such an overwhelming concept, binding yourself to one person for as long as you both shall live. Actually, for even longer. Those magical bonds wouldn't even be severed in death. This was a love that would last for all time. Hermione wished she could take Ron's hand so he would know that she had found that special kind of love with him, but she didn't dare. He would probably snatch his fingers away from her and cause a scene, not caring that his entire extended family was there. That was just the way Ron was.

She didn't realize she was crying until she had to sniff rather loudly. Hermione couldn't tell if it was because the majesty of the service or because she was still shaken from what had just happened between Ron and Viktor. Bill smiled tenderly at his bride and Hermione had to wipe away another tear. It was definitely because of the ceremony. If someone had told her a few years ago that Fleur Delacour, the haughty fairy princess who somehow had managed to get into the Triwizard Tournament, would be marrying Bill Weasley, the coolest of the cool, she would have laughed in their face. But now, as she remembered the way Bill had taken Fleur's hand in the kitchen the night of the Order meeting, in the exact same way that Ron took hers on countless occasions, she knew that this was for real. As much as she wished Fleur was that fairy princess, she wasn't. She was a strong, capable woman who was a perfect match for Ron's beloved older brother.

She exchanged a smile with Harry who quickly went back to gazing at Ginny in a very un-cousinly manner. She glanced over at Ginny who was doing her best to pretend that she didn't notice Harry's affections. Hermione wished with all of her heart that the pair of them would be back together soon, almost as much as she wished for her and Ron to finally work things out. No one deserved each other as much as Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley.

Something soft was suddenly pressed against her hand. Hermione looked down to see Ron's handkerchief was being pushed into her fingers. Ron kept his gaze straight forward. Hermione took the handkerchief gratefully and swabbed at her eyes, thinking about the little black book she had found in Ron's closet that morning. She had a feeling that it contained a passage about always offering the witch a handkerchief if she was crying. She shot him another quick glance which he didn't return, but she was comforted nevertheless. Maybe they would get through this day without a fist-fight after all.

**

And miraculously they didn't. Ron of course made a straight beeline for the farthest possible table in hopes of avoiding Viktor for as long as possible. Hermione had wanted to offer her congratulations to the happy couple as well as look around; it was absolutely gorgeous. She was almost starting to believe that all of their hours of laboring had been entirely justified. She took a seat in the chair Ron pulled out for her and after accidentally kicking Harry while trying to chide Ron for unintentionally insulting Luna, Hermione, with her chin in hand, gazed out at the stunning view of the sunlit orchard and countryside and lost track of the conversation. In spite of all of the golden decorations, this was the sight that was really taking her breath away. The Burrow had to be one of the most beautiful places in the world. She wouldn't mind getting ma--Hermione silenced that thought before it could go any further and took a gulp of butterbeer. She suddenly wished that it was a bit stronger.

Luna brought her attention back to the table as she rose and glided onto the dance floor, where she revolved on the spot, quite alone, eyes closed and waving her arms. Hermione certainly had to hand it to the girl; she never let anyone make her conform to expectations. She rather admired that in Luna.

As if sensing her thoughts, Ron nodded towards the dancing girl. "She's great, isn't she?" said Ron admiringly. "Always good value."

Hermione was about to agree when Viktor Krum took Luna's empty chair. A sudden uncontrollable blush flared up on her face. Besides Ron, Viktor was the only other person who could make her feel abruptly giddy like this. It was almost unbearable to have those two people sitting on either side of her.

Viktor however did not look very happy to be there. Well, he rarely looked happy, but this time he was really upset. He jabbed a finger towards Luna's father who was getting some champagne while talking to several warlocks. "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. Hermione knew he wouldn't have been so forceful with anyone else, but before she could roll her eyes at him, he was getting to his feet. "Come and dance."

For a wild moment, Hermione didn't know who he was asking; he wasn't looking at her. But he certainly wouldn't want to dance with Viktor and as much as he loved Harry, Ron would never want to dance with him. He must have meant her. She felt her cheeks flushing again with surprised pleasure as she rose to join him. She was too taken aback to respond verbally. After how vehemently he had opposed to dancing at the Yule Ball, she had expected to have to threaten Ron with Ginny's Bat-Bogey Curse to get him on the dance floor. But here Ron was, taking her to a free space among the swaying dancers, putting his arms around her and just like that, they were dancing.

Her smile was so wide that she thought her face would break in half. "You can dance," she noted breathlessly.

"Yeah, well, Mum made me learn," Ron admitted with a wry smile, visibly relaxing now there was several yards between her and Viktor Krum. "All of us actually. Didn't want us tripping all over ourselves." He leaned forward conspiringly. "Just don't tell anyone. And definitely do not get used to it."

"I'll try," Hermione said solemnly.

Ron gave her the lopsided grin that never failed to melt all of her insides. He flicked a finger over the strap of her dress and his fingertips accidentally grazed her bare shoulder in the process. She shivered delightfully. "I like this," he said somewhat shyly, even though he had already told her how lovely she looked earlier.

"Thanks," Hermione replied. She moved a hand from his shoulder so she could needlessly smooth his tie. The navy blue really did look wonderful with his eyes. He should really wear that color more often. Even though she wanted to tell him that she actually thought that she had never seen him look so handsome as he did right now, she didn't. She still wasn't that good with the romantic-flirting thing. She supposed she never would be.

Ron probably wouldn't be either, although he really did have moments of perfection. Unable to think of anything else to say about her dress, Ron cleared his throat slightly and cast about for another conversation topic. "So. Tomorrow."

Hermione nodded soberly. That certainly killed all possible romance for the moment. "Tomorrow," she repeated. It was hard to believe that right now, in the midst of all of the palpable love and hope that was surrounding them, that they could be talking about enduring one of the most difficult and dangerous tasks of their lives.

His head bent down so he could speak into her ear in that low, private voice she loved. "Scared?"

She nodded again. He was the only person she'd admit that too.

"Me too," Ron admitted as his arms hitched more securely around her. She really hoped he would never let her go. "But we'll be okay," he promised.

"I hope so," Hermione returned softly. "I just hope I can do this."

"What are you going on about?" Ron scoffed. "Of course you can. It's you."

"I suppose," Hermione said skeptically.

Ron rolled his eyes. "It was an 'E', Hermione. A bloody E."

"I know," Hermione returned with the same amount of exasperation. "But it was still my lowest grade. Defense is my weakest subject--that means something!"

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "It means you're mental."

Hermione stopped dancing and tried to pull her arm free, pretending to be searching for someone in the crowd. "Maybe I'll go dance with Viktor--he won't--"

"Okay, okay!" Ron conceded hastily. He tightened his hold on her and pulled her back into him before she could escape. He glanced hurriedly around to make sure that no one had noticed, especially a certain tall Bulgarian git with the world stupidest goatee. "You're going to be fine," he promised her yet again. "You've got Harry and me so you'll be okay. I swear."

"I know," Hermione agreed. And she did know that. Even if she did falter, she had the two most amazing friends to back her up. She would make it somehow. But her survival wasn't her primary concern. "It's not just me I'm scared for," Hermione reminded him seriously. She honestly didn't know what she'd do if anything happened to Ron or Harry. Ron's near-poisoning had proved that she didn't really hold herself together during those pivotal, crucial moments. When her heart got the best of her, even her super-rational mind was out the window.

He had to look away as the conversation became too serious for his taste. "Well," he said with forced cheer, "Harry and me will try our best not to get killed. Okay?"

"And not to get hurt," Hermione added.

"And not to get hurt."

"And try not to get a scratch--a single scratch," Hermione stressed intently. "No matter what's happening."

Ron wasn't exactly sure he could keep that promise so he made one that he could keep: "Everything will turn out fine, Hermione."

Her head fell to his chest so she could breathe in his confidence. She really believed him. Somehow, someway, if Ron was here to help her, everything would turn out all right. And even if--her heart nearly died even to think it--something did happen, she would get through it because even if they were in different rooms or different cities or different worlds, they were still always, intrinsically, permanently linked because he was the half of her heart.

Quite suddenly, she realized how compromising of a position they were in and she quickly lifted her head back up, nearly taking Ron's chin off in the process. He let out a low shout of surprise at the abrupt movement and several nearby dancers looked on and laughed at the couple's obvious embarrassment. Ginny, who was twirling a radiant Luna around and around, gave Hermione a wink and a smile before spinning her friend one last time and taking the hand Lee Jordan just offered her. Hermione couldn't help wondering if Harry was watching this and what he was thinking. Like Ron, Harry couldn't be less of a fan of dancing, but she had rather hoped that he could at least bring himself at least have one dance with Ginny. No one would know who he was.

But perhaps they would. Hermione watched Luna raise her arms high in the air and practically float on the balls of her feet in a deft two-step. Luna had known 'Barny' was Harry straightaway just by the expression on his face. Maybe if he danced with Ginny, everyone would know simply by the way he took her waist or she smiled at him. Magic could never hide the way two people as crazy for each other as Harry and Ginny.

Worries about Harry, as always, invaded her mind and Hermione tightened her grip on Ron's hand to bring his attention back to her. "Promise me something."

Ron rolled his eyes. "I won't hit Vicky, I promise."

"No." Hermione cocked her head and waited until Ron looked back at her so he could see just how serious she was about this. It was absolutely vital to their survival that he made her this promise. "If something happens tonight--"

Ron instantly panicked. "What's going to happen? Why d'you think--?"

"I just have a bad feeling, that's all," Hermione interrupted hurriedly. She glanced around shiftily to ensure that no one was listening. She faked a smile and pretended as though she and Ron were discussing marvelously trivial things that had nothing to do with their plan to save the world. "So if something happens, I want you to find me and Harry. Don't do anything else--just find me and Harry. And once the three of us are together, take my hand and don't let go."

He waited for her to go on and possibly teach him some intricate and brilliant spell, but she stayed quiet and waited for him to make his promise. Ron blinked once as he realized that that was it. "Don't let go?"

Hermione squeezed his hand so emphasize her point and nodded seriously. "Don't let go," she repeated for good measure.

"Okay," Ron agreed as he shifted his fingers to a more secure position around hers. His palms had become slightly more chapped after two years of playing Keeper, but Hermione rather liked the uneven texture of his skin. It fit him somehow. "I won't."

"And don't call him Vicky," Hermione added so he wouldn't think that he could get away with it.

Ron promptly scowled. "What's with that beard? He looks like he threw up on his face."

She had to bite the inside of her lip to keep in her laughter. "I don't care much for it myself."

"Yeah?" Ron beamed as though the Chudley Cannons had finally won a game.

"Definitely," Hermione reassured. "It makes him look like Karkaroff," she elucidated. "Which I can understand as Karkaroff has always been a role model to him, even after he found out about his Death Eater ties. He was angry at first, of course, but he said that it's not your past who make you who you are, it's what you do here and now that matters--"

Ron's good humor had vanished without a trace. "Can we not talk about Vicky?" he bemoaned pleadingly.

Her first instinct was to inform him how childish he was being and why couldn't he finally just get over Viktor because honestly, there was absolutely nothing to worry about. But as Hermione gazed around her, at the happy couples waltzing, Bill and Fleur kissing at the center of the dance floor, the bottles of champagne floating around, the pristine wedding cake towering proudly on the table, waiting to be cut and served, the golden lanterns lighting the area with a warm, bright glow, she quickly kept her mouth shut and just nodded in agreement. Viktor would never be mentioned again.

The final notes of the Bill and Fleur's first song as a married couple were wavering in the air. Everyone stopped dancing to applaud. The band bowed before launching straight into a faster, more upbeat number. Hermione remained still, trying to determine if Ron wanted to keep on going or if one dance was his limit. She rather suspected it was the latter, but to her surprise, Ron kept a firm hold of her hand and twirled her around, laughing as she stumbled ever so slightly. She regained her balance quickly and countered the move with a fancy step of her own. Ron laughed even harder, reminding her that he was the one who was supposed to lead. Hermione replied with a shake of her head and a smirk of her own. If he wanted to dance with her, he was going to have to share the lead with her. That was the only way this was going to work.

"Fine," Ron said loudly over the music. He spun her again and waited for her to make the next move. She did. He countered. She countered his counter. He countered her counter of his counter. And soon, they didn't even have to wait to see the other's move; they were silently anticipating each other's next step and moving as one, in perfect rhythm. Well, not perfect--there were obviously a few missed steps here and there and Hermione accidentally trod on Ron's toe once, but that was all part of the fun. Their dancing may not be perfect, but they were still pretty perfect together. Hermione couldn't remember the last time she had laughed so hard. Ron's grin was wider than Christmas. Everyone around them gave the couple knowing sidelong glances, knowing quite well just what was to come for those lucky two. Weddings really were the perfect place to discover just how in love certain people were.

Ron and Hermione lost count of how many songs had been played and stayed only each other for what must have been hours, until Hermione finally realized that her feet were throbbing thanks to her rarely-worn high heels and had to stop to inspect her soles for blisters. Ron offered to get some butterbeer and as he wove his way through the hoards of round tables, Hermione just stood still and watched him go, still grinning as though she had just received Hogwarts: A History for the first time.

That, Ron, Hermione told him, slightly out of breath and infinitely exhilarated, that was what the Yule Ball should have been.