Hermione Granger

As the sun began to deep from its early afternoon high, birds chirped as they flew through the woods, lingering around the Nook and watching curiously as people gathered from around the city. Flowers bloomed from the branches, uncharacteristically bright and large for the season, aided by a touch of magic. Not far from the house, a small babbling brook snaked through the fields, giving pets and wildlife alike the chance to run around and splash in a bit of water. The wedding decor had been designed to blend into the countryside, tables held up by tree trunks, and shade overhead provided by the stretch of vines and blossoms. The scent in the air was subtle and sweet, light floral mingling with the smell of baked goods wafting from the buffet table. At the end of the table stood a large cake, with white frosting and decorated with orange blossoms and clementines. If one looked closely enough, they would notice that one of the fruits was different than the rest, painted a subtle gold, and occasionally flying around the cake with a rapid beating of delicate wings.

The wedding was a small and intimate affair, meant to be more of a celebration than a formal occasion, and guests mingled with wine and cheer before the time came for the ceremony to begin.


Ron had felt as if he was going to lose his breakfast for most of the day. The truth was, he'd barely eaten at all that morning, anxious about the late afternoon ceremony. In some ways, it reminded him of ages ago, of his first Quidditch match as Keeper back at Hogwarts, his stomach was in knots, he felt peaky, and without realizing it that morning, he'd been so distracted by his own thoughts that he'd idly managed to cast a spell that left a small raincloud lingering over his head for nearly an hour before he managed to rid himself of it.

He knew that he was mental for it, for being worried about any of this. He and Hermione had been together ages now. They loved each other, and this was the next thing. There was no doubt in his mind that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with that bloody amazing woman, but there was still the slightest bit of worry that she'd think better of it— of him— and tell him to sod off. He hadn't had thoughts like that, when it came to Hermione, in ages, but somehow it'd all come flooding back in the hours before the wedding.

Even standing there, waiting for her to walk down the aisle, he tried to push those thoughts away, tried not to look too nervous, like his stomach didn't feel like a crumpled bit of parchment. At least, if it all went sour, he only really knew a handful of people who'd turned up today. And Charlie wasn't George or Ginny, so he wouldn't give him too hard a time about it.

But the thing Ron didn't expect, standing there feeling like he might pass out, what he hadn't prepared himself for, was how she looked when he finally saw her. Because once he finally saw Hermione in her dress, walking toward him, this bloody amazing woman who'd chosen him when she could have had anyone, all the worry melted away. The parchment uncrumpled itself, and he was left grinning so hard he couldn't imagine ever being this happy again in his life.


All throughout the morning, Hermione's heart fluttered in her chest. Even as she listened to the guests mingling in the distance, there was something about the day that didn't feel quite real, even as she worked on zipping her dress and arranging her hair just so. While she had asked a guest or two for help on occasion, Hermione spent most of the morning preparing on her own, letting the enormity of everything that had led her and Ron to this point sink in. She had known, practically since their first year at Hogwarts, that Ron was a person whom Hermione would spend the rest of her years standing alongside. But the depth of what they felt for one another, the deepening of those emotions as they bloomed into something deeper and intangible, was something she never could have anticipated all of those years ago.

Now, she couldn't imagine wanting a single day away from him. As Hermione gazed in the mirror, she noticed how it softened her appearance. Her cheeks, dusted pink even without the help of blush. Quietly, she stole a moment to peek through the window, where Ron and Charlie were speaking in the distance. Everything about the day felt right. Everything was coming together, the final missing pieces of the puzzle.

By the time she made her way to the aisle, Hermione was already beaming, fingers trembling as they held onto her bouquet. Petals of light pink and orange lined the path she took, guests turned their heads to rest upon the bride, and sweet woodwind music played in the distance — but in the moment, Hermione only had eyes for Ron. As she came to a stop across from him, she reached a hand out to lace with his own, and silently murmured, I love you.


Ron had spent hours the day before trying to put the right words together, even though he knew that he was rubbish at that sort of thing. Reports, papers… mostly he just tried to get out of doing them, but this wasn't something Ron wanted to skive off. It was more important than almost anything.

In the end, he'd come up with something, and he'd written it out on a bit of parchment that he'd folded up and put in the pocket of his jacket, but he'd begun to think he wouldn't need it after all.

"Hermione, you've been my best friend, my teacher, my soul mate. You've managed to put up with me for over a decade now, and if you were going to think better of it, I s'pose you would've done it by now. Sometimes— right now, especially— I can't believe I've gotten this lucky. I love you, Hermione. You've been making me a better person since we first met, all those years ago as kids. And I promise that— that I'll keep working at it for as long as we're together, which is the rest of our lives, I hope. I promise we'll keep learning from each other, and that I'll always be there.

"A long time ago, I got lost, and it took a little ball of light to bring me back to you, to bring me home again. But I promise to never leave again. You're my home now, and you always will be."


As Hermione listened to Ron speak, she felt her chest grow tight and her eyes mist over, but she did her best to take the whole moment in, committing every detail to memory. The bright blue of Ron's eyes, as clear as the sky above. The way his hair caught the sunlight. The gentle brush of the wind as he spoke, grass waving merrily in the distance. She ducked her head for only a moment, smiling to herself, knowing that she could never forget the way that her heart felt right then, full to burst.

"As a child, I had always been somewhat of a precocious little thing. I knew how to consume books as though I was breathing air, and I kept my nose buried in them, day after day, like they were my entire world. But from the moment that you entered my life, Ron, you showed me that there was so much more to the world than what I could learn in the shelves of a library. You taught me the value of friendship, you showed me what true bravery meant. And what you taught me, above all else, is about love. What it's like to grow together, and what it's like to feel as though there's another person in the world who completes you. Who makes your world whole. Who shows you, every day, how life can be lived to its fullest.

"You say that you feel like you're lucky, but I feel like I've been the fortunate one to have found my soulmate so early in life. And I can't wait to spend the rest of that life with you."

Trembling hands relaxed as Hermione watched Ron slide the ring onto her finger, and she glanced up with a soft laugh. His warm arms wrapped around her, and Hermione pushed herself onto her toes, hand curling against his chest as she pressed her lips to his.


[ gathering for ronmione wedding! let us know if you're requesting ron, hermione, or both! tag in and be merry. ♥ ]

Glass shattered in every which way as Hermione felt her legs give out from under her, knees colliding unpleasantly with the ground while she managed to instinctively cover the back of her neck. Even as the pain shot through her body, some remaining with a dull ache that dug too deep in her bones, her immediate thought was that she was free to breathe at last, gasping for air even as the tepid air stung against the slight slit across her neck. Perhaps it was a cursed blade. In the end, that wasn't what really mattered; even with her bones feeling very much like jelly and heavy wrought iron weighing her down, Hermione pushed her palms against the floor, willing herself to look up and watch. To see if her friends were safe.

All of them had known what they were signing up for, putting their own lives on the line in the hopes of securing a better future for generations to come, but a lofty goal could never outweigh looming threats and blades held so close to one's throat. Far more terrifying to Hermione than finding herself at odds had always been the thought of either of her best friends getting hurt. Sometimes, at the worst of moments much like that evening at Malfoy Manor, it was hard to suppress the feeling that maybe they shouldn't have been so ambitious after all, that they should have spent more time preparing themselves or potentially even enjoying what little peace they had, more than many others in the war while tucked away in the shadows of unknown forests. Hermione caught a glimpse of red hair and heard Harry shouting incantations, noticed the whiz of Stunning Spells passing by as her hand groped over the floor, despite knowing she'd find no wand there. Her hair fell in front of her eyes to obscure her view, but it didn't stop the scattered shards of glass from glittering like green and red stars spread across the dark marble floor.

Hermione froze when a pair of hands reached out to grasp her, rather than pushing them away, heart racing until it thudded against her ears. Hearing Ron's terse, quiet voice helped stifle the whimper of pain as she nodded. Just nodded, even as she found it difficult to process what he was saying at all. She heard the rending of metal scraping against stone and the light clatter of Gryffindor's sword before a wand was tossed through the relative darkness. With Ron's hand tightly wrapped around her shoulder, Hermione did nothing more than grasp onto his jumper, watching with wide and apprehensive eyes as Harry slung Griphook over a shoulder and grabbed for Dobby's spindly little hand. She tried to reach into her coat, making sure that everything was there— the beaded purse, but still no wand.

And then she hit damp earth with a slap of her cheek against sand, salty air playing with her nose and foam washing by her lips; she coughed in an effort to rid herself of the taste, wincing as the ocean washed over the scrawl of 'Mudblood' over her arm and the minute cuts from the fallen chandelier.

"Ron?" she called out, voice hoarse. "Harry?"

Pushing her palms against the sand and pulling herself up to her knees, Hermione frowned as she looked out over crashing waves and felt the sun beating down on her from above. In spite of how idyllic the scene was, Hermione's fingers only dug deeper into the grains, finding the beaded bag in her immediate line of sight. Gritting her teeth, Hermione got to her feet and wrapped both arms tightly around her waist. As she stood, it soon became clear that all of the items that had been in the bag— clothes, quills, books— were scattered over the sand. Had her charm worn off?

"Oh my God," she murmured to herself, covering her mouth with a hand. The three of them were meant to anticipate everything, to be ready for any eventuality, but she wasn't sure anything could have prepared her for this.