Scattered

He opened the door gratefully, hoping for reinforcements -- Charlie, maybe, or Bill, though Ron had expressly barred everyone from Harry's rooms, saying he needed a place to be nervous in private. When Harry found Ginny standing on the other side of the door, instead, he felt a combination of both relief and regret.

"Hey," he said distractedly, and at precisely that moment the sound of retching began again, coming from the direction of the loo. He met Ginny's eyes and grinned in spite of himself.

She looked shocked, but laughed. "Is that the groom?" she asked.

He nodded. "It's been going on for about half an hour."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "It's just nerves, right? He's not actually sick, because if he is, Hermione is going to kill him."

"I'm pretty sure it's just nerves."

She looked thoughtful for a moment. "Wait here. I'll be right back."

Harry watched her walk swiftly down the hall, back towards her own room. She held the skirt of her full gown carefully up, revealing the delicate, high-heeled shoes that kept her from moving any faster. He sighed and, leaving the door slightly ajar, sat on the sofa, tugging ineffectually at his uncomfortable collar.

Ron had camped out in Harry's rooms the previous night; the two friends had stayed up late, talking and sipping butterbeer, a black-market present smuggled onto the island as a present from Charlie. Charlie's original plans had included a traditional stag night of drinking with all the young men of the island, but Ron, in a move that surprised even Harry, had declined. When Harry asked him why, later, Ron had simply said, "What's the point of a stag night without the twins here?"

Ron and Hermione had agreed to spend the day of their wedding apart, until the ceremony, but observing his clearly nerve-wracked best mate, Harry found himself wondering if that had been the best idea. He didn't know what time it was when they'd both fallen asleep, but this morning Ron had woken up pale and sweaty. He'd turned down breakfast, and only reluctantly agreed to join Harry and Bill for a fly around the island. They'd cajoled him into eating a sandwich around midday in the common room, where they were joined by Seamus and Dean; later, Percy had stopped by and he and Ron had played chess for a few hours, talking pleasantly enough -- though Ron tended to punctuate each sentence he uttered with, "What if she changes her mind?" to which Percy always calmly answered, "She won't, Ron."

"Okay, this should do it," Ginny said, bustling back into the room, shaking Harry from his reverie. She held a small brown bottle in her hand and looked determined. "Here. Give him this."

Harry took the bottle warily. "What is it?"

"It'll calm him down."

He frowned. "I don't know, Gin. Hermione won't like it much better if he's a zombie on their wedding day."

"It's not a sedative. It's for his stomach. It'll calm his stomach down," she explained, exasperated. "Because Hermione definitely won't like it if he vomits all over her dress. Which," she said with a dreamy smile, "is just beautiful, by the way."

Harry smiled back at her expression. Ginny's dress was rather spectacular itself, he thought. The long, full skirt swept into a short train that whispered along behind her, while the tightly-fitted top left her arms and shoulders bare while hugging curves Harry had tried very hard not to remember. Her long hair was gathered up on top of her head, with a few loose tendrils brushing down against her graceful neck. He'd never imagined Ginny would wear pink, not with her hair, but the dusky rose of her dress somehow suited her.

"You look nice, Gin," he said mildly, taking the bottle from her.

"Thanks," she replied, just as casually.

"I'll just go give this to Ron."

He stepped cautiously into the loo. Ron was sitting in the tub, his knees drawn up to his chest and his head down.

"Drink this," Harry said, holding out the bottle. "It's for your stomach."

"I don't know what the bloody hell's wrong with me," Ron said, ignoring Harry's outstretched arm.

"I don't either, but whatever it is, this'll fix it."

Ron looked up, his face pale, and took the bottle wordlessly. Unscrewing the cap, he took a long gulp, then handed it back. Harry tossed it in the waste bin and by the time he turned around again, Ron's color had returned. He looked a hundred times better, though his eyes were still tired and his forehead was wrinkled with worry.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" Harry asked finally, unable to hold the question in any longer.

Ron gave him an incredulous look. "What I want? Am I sure this is what I want? What kind of question is that?"

Harry frowned. "Kind of an important one, I'd think."

"It's a daft question," Ron insisted. "It's daft to even ask it. Of course this is what I want, you idiot. But what does that matter? It's what she wants that matters, and there's no bloody way this is what she really wants. No way. She's just... just doing it to...she's got a plan, I'm sure of it."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Oh, I get it. Hermione doesn't want to marry you, she's just doing it for some ulterior motive?"

"Exactly," Ron agreed vehemently. "That's got to be it. And I was just too stupid not to realize it until now."

"Right. Of course. By the way, what would that motive be, d'you think?"

Ron gave him another scathing look. "Well, I don't know, of course. I'm too bloody stupid to understand whatever she's doing, because that's the whole point, isn't it? It could be anything. Part of some way to defeat Voldemort, or some weird method of freeing house elves. Some spell, some charm. Whatever it is, it's important to her, important enough to make her agree to marry me, poor girl."

"Don't you think that sounds rather ridiculous, Ron? Hermione loves you, and she wants to marry you," Harry insisted.

"That's what she wants us to think," Ron replied insistently. "She's clever, that one. But I'm on to her."

Ginny's dress preceded her in the doorway; she stopped there, her hands on her hips, scowling. "Ronald, enough already. You're just being a big baby. For reasons beyond my capacity to understand, Hermione loves you. She doesn't have motives or some clever plan. She's just crazy, that's all, because she thinks you're the love of her life. Or so she's told me often enough. Now stop all this nonsense and get dressed, because if you're late for this ceremony, Hermione will kill you, but more importantly, she'll kill me."

Ron gaped at his sister in disbelief. "What did you say?"

Ginny snorted. "I said, get dressed! Harry and I are going back out into the bedroom, and you're getting dressed."

"You said she... Hermione thinks I'm..."

"The love of her life, yes," Ginny answered impatiently. "She's said so. Many times. Quite annoying, actually. So, once again: get dressed, or I'll go get Mum to do it for you."

Ron smiled, no longer paying attention. Ginny grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him along with her, shutting the door behind them and throwing her hands up in disgust. "Finally," she said. "I swear."

"Has Hermione been nervous all day, too?" Harry asked, sympathetically.

"Hermione?" Ginny crossed over to the fireplace and, standing on tiptoe, peered into the mirror hanging above the mantel, dabbing at her eye makeup carefully with her fingertip and pushing a few stray strands of hair off her forehead. "She's cool as a cucumber. She spent the entire morning in the library, doing research with Lupin. Charlie brought her parents here around noon, and they've been catching up. Mum and Penny and I showed up and got her dressed, and she's ready and perfect and lovely. She sent me to check on Ron."

Harry frowned. "She's not the least bit nervous?"

"Oh, she's hoping that the ceremony and the reception goes well, but otherwise, I don't think so." She caught Harry's expression and laughed. "Does that disappoint you for some reason?"

He shrugged, embarrassed. "I just figured, since Ron's so... insanely nervous, she would be a little, as well."

"But Hermione's not as insecure as Ron is," Ginny replied. She stepped away from the mirror and looked at Harry and smiled. "That's all this is with him, you know. He's just scared. He knows he wants to be with Hermione forever, and she knows the same. They know they're lucky to have found each other." She looked away for a moment. "Ron knows he loves Hermione. She knows she loves him. The only problem is that deep down somewhere, Ron thinks he doesn't deserve that love. So he's insecure. But it'll pass, with time." She crossed to the door, clutching her train up to keep it from catching on anything. She turned back and smiled reassuringly, knowing what he needed to hear. "They're going to be just fine."

"I know," he said. "It's just... if anyone deserves to be happy, it's them."

"Everyone deserves to be happy, Harry," she said sadly, and disappeared down the hall.

"She's right, you know," Ron said behind him. Harry turned and saw his best friend fidgeting uncomfortably with his tie, just as Harry himself had been doing all afternoon. Ron smiled weakly. "I sure as hell don't deserve it more than anyone else."

Harry shook his head. He didn't want to discuss what Ron was hinting at about Ginny, but he wasn't about to let a comment like that pass. "That's not true. You do deserve it, Ron. You... deserve her, too." He took a deep breath. "You know that Hermione... you know that she means a lot to me. She's like family. My family. And I wouldn't stand by and let some undeserving bloke marry her, even if he is my best mate."

Ron's ears turned red and he ducked his head, clearly affected by Harry's words. "That... means a lot to me, Harry."

"You're perfect for each other, and you know it," Harry said, laughing. "So let's go and find your brothers, and your father, and let your Mum cry over you a bit," Ron rolled his eyes, "and have a drink with Lupin, and see what kind of vegetables Luna is wearing for earrings, and get you married."

* * * * *

The sun was just slipping below the horizon as Mr. Weasley smiled at his youngest son and said, "I think it's time."

Ron took a deep breath and, with a glance at Harry and a last kiss from his Mum, walked in front of the first row of seats and stood at the end of the aisle. Hestia Jones, wearing long official robes and holding a short roll of parchment, smiled at him kindly. Harry took his place on Ron's left and smiled at the Weasleys, seated nearby. He saw Hermione's mother on the opposite side, also in the front, and further back, Minerva McGonagall, Remus and Tonks, the McFustys... everyone else living on the island, really.

Hermione had decided (Ron had expressed very little opinion on their wedding, just that he wanted it to happen soon) to have an evening ceremony, followed by a reception, both outside. She wanted, she said, to have everyone dancing under the stars, and to enjoy being outside together, not "cooped up inside". The night air was sure to grow cool later, and the thin, gauzy canopy constructed by Bill would hardly protect them from the strong Hebrides winds. Professor McGonagall, however, had offered to set the charms to keep their celebration warm and comfortable, as a wedding present. And so Hermione would get her wish, and Harry was glad.

Towards the back, at the end of the aisle, Percy stood and, with a wave of his wand, started the music. Harry glanced at Ron and saw that he was standing stock-still, his eyes glued on a single spot in the darkness, waiting.

First down the aisle were wee Roger and Ellen McFarlane. Roger was in his first dress robes and looked pleased as punch; Ellen was wearing a pretty pink and white dress, with a crown of flowers and ribbons in her hair. She carried a basket and dropped white petals as she walked, smiling shyly, her brother prodding her to move faster, leaving every adult watching utterly charmed.

Ginny appeared next, in the dress Harry had seen earlier. She smiled at Percy, and then at everyone. She sought out her parents, her brothers, and Penny; she had such an expression of joy on her face, a joy she clearly wanted to share with everyone. Harry watched her, in those few moments it took her to walk down the aisle, and just for once, just for a moment, he allowed himself to feel -- to feel everything that was in his heart whenever he looked at Ginny, whenever he thought of the way her hair smelled and her skin felt and her lips moved beneath his. She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, and she always would be... even if he never got to hold her again, or touch her again, she would always be there, in his heart, in a place no one else had ever seen.

She took her final steps down the aisle and moved to the right, whispering to little Ellen; she did not look at him, and Harry understood. He knew he was in her heart as well, and always would be, but it was too painful for her, as it was for him, to show it now. Harry let the last ache of her wash through him and then he buried his feelings once again, leaving only the warmth behind, the strength just knowing she was in the world gave him.

Ron coughed nervously and Harry clapped him on the shoulder. "Hang in there, mate," he whispered, and Ron nodded, taking a deep breath.

The music changed and everyone stood. In the darkening twilight, just beyond the torches fluttering around the canopy's edges, a glowing figure appeared, gleaming in white, her arm linked through that of the tall man beside her.

Harry couldn't help but stare at her, feeling inordinately and inexplicably proud. Hermione's dress was lovely, much the same as Ginny's but with a longer train, and white, of course; she wore long gloves and her hair was swept up into a crown of waves, a simple tiara holding back the heavy curls. She looked like something out of a picture book, and Harry smiled as she walked slowly down the aisle, laughing and crying both at once, clutching her father's arm, with eyes for no one but the man waiting for her up ahead.

"Breathe," Harry whispered, and Ron took a quick gulp of air, his eyes wide, his ears beet-red. "And don't be an arse," he added. "Ever again."

Hermione's father kissed her cheek lovingly, and led her to Ron's side.

"Never again," Ron whispered back, and reached out for her hand.

* * * * *

Harry was idly considering having another drink when Remus Lupin appeared at his side, a spare beverage in hand. "Not overdoing it, are you?" Remus asked. "I'm not sure you can handle another."

He snorted. "This will be my second drink of the entire night. Plus the champagne for the toast, I guess."

Remus smiled and handed Harry the fresh glass. "I know, I saw. Don't mind me. Sirius had this little joke he liked, as I wasn't much of a drinker. He'd tell everyone that I was the drunkest one there when I'd only had gillywater all evening, and I'd sputter and get defensive. He thought it was hysterical," the older man finished mildly.

Harry laughed soundlessly. "Sounds like him."

"Yes. If Sirius were here right now, he would not be joining us in sobriety," Remus said dryly, smiling.

"I was thinking about him earlier, wishing he was here."

Remus gestured to a nearby empty table and they sat together, watching the couples out on the dance floor, across the room. "So was I."

Harry smiled. "It's not always sad, when that happens. Sometimes it's nice, if that makes sense. Like when something happens, something I know Sirius would have thought was hysterically funny, then I laugh a little, to myself, thinking about what his reaction would have been. Then it's like he's there, in a way, and that's a good thing."

Remus nodded. "That's it exactly. Like tonight, when you were giving your toast? I was thinking that if Sirius had been here, he'd have been guffawing away, shouting his fool head off, laughing harder than everyone else."

"Louder than anyone else, too," Harry agreed.

A song finished and he watched Ginny leave the dance floor with Bill, both of them returning to sit by their parents. Harry had spent most of the evening with the Weasleys, and it had been a wonderful night. Hermione and Ron were exuberantly happy; Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were beamingly proud. Hermione's parents looked, he thought, a little surprised at everything -- the island, the castle, their daughter's marriage -- but happy, all the same.

Harry had claimed his dance with Hermione early, kissing her on the cheek in congratulations, and shared a private drink with Ron. And then he'd slipped off, needing some time apart. Truth be told, after all of the long slow months alone, with only Moody, Hagrid and Dobby as companions, weeks spent in hiding and days spent in silence, Harry sometimes found the island and its bustling inhabitants to be jarring. He wouldn't trade any of it, of course; everyone he loved was there and safe -- everyone but Fred and George, and he would be speaking to Arthur about that if the twins didn't return soon. Liath Cuan was a beautiful place and it still awed him, realizing what Dumbledore had done for them, the haven he'd provided them even after his death, and so unexpectedly. For not the first time, Harry felt a stab of regret for all of the things he would never know about Albus Dumbledore, and he hoped that someday he would have the time to explore this place, Dumbledore's home, and perhaps learn some of them now -- better late than never. No, the island was wonderful, of that there was no doubt. But deep down, to Harry, it still sometimes felt the way Grimmauld Place always had: not like a home, but like a hiding place.

The music changed again and a slow song began, an old Muggle song that Harry recognized, a sweet, rich big band melody. Hermione was standing beside her father when the music started and she turned and smiled across the table at Ron. He stood and took her arm, leading her out onto the dance floor.

Harry watched them sway, Hermione's arms looped around Ron's neck and his head lowered to hers; they were talking, he saw, too low for anyone else to hear. Ron's tie was hanging loose, undone, his jacket off; Hermione had taken off her shoes and her long gloves, and they seemed somehow older, somehow different from the dressed-up friends he'd seen earlier: more relaxed, more intimate. Lost in each other and oblivious to the rest of the party going on around them, they danced together as if they'd been doing it forever.

"I don't know if I've ever seen two people more suited to each other," Remus commented, watching them as well. "Except maybe Arthur and Molly."

"You and Tonks seem like a pretty good match to me," Harry said, smiling.

Remus chuckled. "Oh, that's different. Dora and I, well, we grew into two people who belong together, but that wouldn't always have been the case. Even aside from the age difference, we wouldn't have been right for each other at all, not if our lives hadn't taken certain paths and changed us in certain ways, and not always for the better, unfortunately." He shook his head. "No, I'm a lucky man to have Dora, and I hope I'm the right man for her now, as well. But it was something I never saw coming, and I suspect, though she won't admit it, neither did she. Nor did anyone else, and that's a fact, Harry."

"True enough," Harry admitted. "Whereas Ron and Hermione just always seemed sort of... inevitable."

"Yes, that's it. But, you know, Harry, one isn't better than the other," Remus said quietly. "It doesn't matter how or when you find someone to love, just that you do."

Hermione and Ron drew together as the song ended; Ron tilted her chin, gently, and kissed her. Her hand came up to cup his face, the blue sapphire on her hand catching the candlelight and twinkling like one of the stars in the night sky above.

"I wanted to ask if you'd come with me to see Arthur tomorrow afternoon," Harry said abruptly. "If you're not busy."

"Of course," Remus replied mildly. "I was planning on going over some research, but to be honest, it's probably just a lesson in futility. Hermione and I have hit a bit of a stone wall, and I'm unlikely to break through it without her. I might as well just pick it up again when she and Ron get back from their weekend alone." He smiled. "That was a very thoughtful gift, Harry, fixing up that cottage for them."

"It was the best I could do, since they can't go away for a real honeymoon," he replied distractedly. "Tomorrow, then, around one? I'll find you."

"Fine." Remus paused. "Might I ask what we're seeing Arthur about?" he asked.

"Voldemort," Harry replied, finishing his drink. He stood and faced his old friend, his father's friend and his mother's confidant, Sirius' best mate and the only link Harry had left to a past he lived with every day. "It's time."