A/N: Oh, I wrote this so long ago!

Sorry if it's a bit... odd. It's from my old stash. More of a fluffy little one-shot (although it's kinda long). Not too original (none of my early stuff was). A bit of Harry/Ginny in the mix too!

Also, it's not a full M, more of a T+

Anyways, enjoy!

"I've told you before that I don't like it, Hermione! I've asked you to stop!" Ron Weasley shouted at his girlfriend. Hermione Granger stood, arms crossed and hip cocked, her eyebrows furrowed and a sour expression on her face. She glared right back at him.

It seemed as if they'd had the same row a million times. Standing in their shared flat, on either side of their bedroom, Hermione felt a strong sense of déjà vu, screaming about her friendship with the international Quidditch star that her boyfriend had always envied.

"And I've told you that Viktor is a friend and nothing more!" The redhead let out a sarcastic laugh, rolling his eyes and dramatically throwing his hands in the air.

"Oh, yes, I'm sure. That's exactly why you write him ten paged letters weekly." Hermione scoffed at him.

"I do not write him ten paged letters weekly! I send him a quick note a few times a year! I don't know why you're being so ridiculous, Ron," she replied. Ron turned a bright shade of red. Whether from anger or embarrassment, she wasn't quite sure. He seemed at a loss for words, sputtering stupidly until he finally managed to spit something out.

"I-I'm putting a stop to this rubbish, Hermione! You're not to contact him anymore!" Hermione gaped.

"You're forbidding me from contacting him?" Ron nodded vigorously.

"Yes." His voice wavered slightly, nervous as to what she would do in retaliation. She let out a noise of disbelief, then yelled in exasperation.

"No! I can write to whoever I please! You don't own me! I'm not a-a house elf that does what you tell it to! I'm your girlfriend!" Ron took a step towards her, grabbing her by the arm a bit roughly. She attempted to wrench free but he wouldn't budge. His eyes were icy.

"Exactly! You're my girlfriend! Not his! I am the only man you should be writing to!"

"Well, if that's the way you feel about it, then maybe I won't be your girlfriend at all!" Ron didn't flinch, calling her bluff.

"Fine!" he yelled. She jerked her arm out of his grip, a new fire ripping through her. How dare he let her go so easily?

"Fine! Goodbye, Ronald!"

And with that, Hermione Granger turned on her heel and stormed out of the flat.

"And she just… left?" Ron stared down at his glass of firewhisky.

"Yeah," he replied, sulkily. Harry Potter, his best friend and partner, took a sip of his own drink, staring at the Auror. He was wreck. He looked as if he hadn't slept and his eyes were red-most likely from crying. His expression was vacant, as if he'd had his soul sucked out by dementors. Harry vaguely remembered seeing the same expression on Hermione's face years ago, after Ron had left them on their search for Horcrux's.

"She just… left. She's never done that before. Gone. No calls, no owls. Just gone. Gone to Merlin knows where." Ron still wouldn't look at Harry, focusing instead on the wooden countertops of the Leaky Cauldron's tables. "I'm a prat. A stupid, utter prat." Harry clapped his best friend on the back, downing the rest of his drink.

"Cheer up mate, she'll likely be back any day now. She likes you too much to stay away very long."

"I hope you're right," Ron muttered glumly, sipping from his drink.

"I always am," Harry said cheerfully in an attempt to lighten the mood. Ron didn't smile, instead, his frown etched deeper as he stared down thoughtfully. Harry was quiet for a few moments, allowing him to think.

"She can't be away for long anyways. We're getting married in a month. Seems too soon, eh?" Harry chuckled nervously and fiddled with his empty glass. This made Ron look up at him, eyes narrowed and frowning in disapproval.

"You marrying my little sister will always seem too soon, Potter. And if you leave her at the alter, I'll hunt you down and kill you." Harry held up his hands in surrender.

"Relax, Ron. I don't plan on it." Ron grunted into his glass as he gulped the rest down in one drink.

"How could he say that to her? That git!" Ginny stood with her hands on her hips, an angry expression on her face. Harry smirked at her anger, lying in their bed, the blankets already up to his elbows.

"Oi, I'm not the one that said it, Gin." He wondered why it was that everyone took their anger out on him. She tapped her barefoot and clucked her tongue, brushing a hand over the silk of her nightgown.

"I know, but honestly! Hermione hasn't seen Viktor in years! Imagine, her still having any feelings for him at all! I mean, she went to a school dance with him when she was fifteen, for Merlin's sake!" She shook out her red hair violently. It cascaded down her back in angry waves.

"The nerve! Forbidding her from writing to a friend! I doubt Hermione has ever forbade him from seeing Lavender-not that he'd want to. Let's face it, who in their right mind would want a repeat of that "relationship"?" She mockingly put air quotes around the word 'relationship' and rolled her eyes, sitting at her vanity and brushing out her hair. She was quiet for a moment.

"Do you suppose she'll take him back? Hermione, I mean?" Harry asked. Ginny met his gaze in her mirror. She scoffed.

"Of course she will." Ginny tossed her hairbrush back on the vanity. "She's Hermione and he's Ron and they're just meant to be together. There's no stopping fate, Harry." Harry nodded slightly and turned on his side. He set his glasses on the nightstand.

"He's clueless, isn't he? More so than any of us ever thought-And we thought he was quite a bit clueless, I assure you." Ginny crawled into bed beside him, a thoughtful frown on her face. Harry thought the crease between her eyebrows was quite adorable and he was grinning as he leaned over her to turn out the light.

"Do you reckon she'll come back soon? In time for them to patch things up before the wedding?" Harry's whisper was quiet and she could feel his breath on the back of her neck as he wound his arms around her waist. She closed her eyes, sighing sleepily. He rubbed her arm.

"I suppose so. They won't be able to stand being away from each other long. They like to fight too much." The last thing she heard was Harry's quiet chuckle as she drifted to sleep, dreaming of weddings and happy endings.

Ron stared at the letter. It was an announcement. A wedding announcement. His best friend was marrying his sister. Of course, as shocking a discovery as that had been, he'd known for a while now (long enough that he'd limited his sulky grumbles only to when he actually had to participate in the planning). He wasn't staring at the names of the bride and groom or the date (three weeks from tomorrow), but at the name listed under Maid of Honor. Hermione Jean Granger. Her traced his thumb over the loopy cursive, as if just touching it would make her appear by his side.

It had been over a week since she'd left. He'd still heard nothing from her. Her clothes had mysteriously vanished one day while he'd been at work, along with her books and other various items that had belonged to her. Nothing of his had been touched, but he felt cheated, knowing she'd been here and he hadn't gotten to see her. But he would see her at the wedding. She was the Maid of Honor. He was the Best Man. They had to stand at the same alter.

Broken up or not, it was going to happen.

He sighed and sat the envelope down on the counter and left the room. He couldn't look at her name anymore. Just that hurt. He had to quit thinking about her, lest he explode from heartache. He decided to owl his brother, George. He'd have something cheerful to say, no doubt.

Ron sat down at the secretary that Hermione had often paid bills, written letters, and done paperwork at. He tried not to think of it, but everything reminded him of her. He rummaged through the bottom drawer for a quill and some parchment, determined to keep his mind blank. While concentrating so hard on not thinking, his hand came across something hard and cool.

Curious, he withdrew his arm from the drawer. In between his fingers was the deluminator that he used to find Hermione long ago, after he'd left them in the forest prompted by Voldemort's Horcrux. He turned it over in his hands and, suddenly, he knew what he had to do.

His letter abandoned, he stood up and turned it over in his hands. Clicking the button, a ball of light came out, as it had years before. It entered his chest and he turned on the spot. With a pop, he disapparated, off to find Hermione.

Ron arrived at the Granger's home in a split second, apparating onto the sidewalk outside their house. Being out of practice apparating, he stumbled and fell to his knees against the cement. After blinking and taking a few steady breaths, he stood slowly, looking around him.

The one time he'd visited Hermione's parent's house-after he'd help her successfully reverse the memory charm and was taking them home from Australia-it had looked vacant, empty. No one had lived there in months. The flower beds had been overgrown. The windows were dirty. The grass was tall and weeds popped out of cracks in the driveway. Now, the flowerbeds were a sea of color, not a weed in sight. The asphalt driveway was void of cracks and the grass was trimmed neatly. The glass windows shone and he had a clear view into the Granger's living room. Hermione's father was sitting on their couch, remote in hand. In was picture-perfect, the exact kind of order that he expected Hermione to have grown up in.

Ron strode up the walk, not even thinking about what he was doing. He didn't think that Hermione might not want to see him or that her parents might not let him in. He had one thought and one thought only: Get to Hermione as quickly as possible. Without a moment's hesitation he reached over and rang the doorbell. He heard the noise echo beyond the front door and his heart fluttered when he made out Hermione's voice, calling that she would answer the door.

The door swung open and all his breath left him. She was as pretty as ever, even with the dark circles and red eyes. Her hair looked as if it hadn't been brushed properly in days and her skin was pale and sallow, as if she had the flu. But her eyes were as brown and beautiful as ever. For a split second she looked as if she were happy to see him. But then, her eyes narrowed and she glared at him, the special hated glare that she saved for Draco Malfoy.

"And what do you want?" she asked haughtily, leaning against the doorway and crossing her arms. She did not invite him in, or make any room for him to pass by her. Hermione was unfailingly polite and he knew that, for her to be rude, he had severely messed up.

"I had to see you," he whispered quietly. Ron held up the Deluminator and offered her a small smile. She raised an eyebrow.

"You seemed fine with letting me leave the other day. Glad to be rid of me, even," she sniffed. He thought that her bossy, know-it-all attitude was reminiscent of the eleven year-old Hermione that he hadn't seen in years.

"I wasn't. I just get mental when you talk to Krum. You know that."

"Oh, don't you dare try and pin this on me!" she cried.

"I wasn't gonna!" he defended.

"You were too! That's exactly what you were going to do! You were going to tell me that I should've known how you would react and that I shouldn't have overreacted! That I should be the one apologizing for putting you through such agony!"

"You think you know everything-"

"Well, I know a lot more than you!" Hermione cut him off, seething. She'd let the anger get the best of her, the first hurtful words that had come to mind falling out of her mouth. She bit her lip regretfully after she'd said it, but didn't apologize. No. If she apologized she'd lose the entire argument and it wasn't worth him having that leverage over her. She was right.

They stared at each other for a long time, Hermione's hand firmly gripping the front door as if she were ready to slam it in his face at any second. Ron stood on the front steps, arms by his sides and Deluminator clutched in his right hand. They both glared. Hermione was the first to speak.

"I think you should leave."

"Be happy to."

He turned on his heel and strode down the walk. He could've just disapparated on the spot, but he felt like walking would calm him down. He was hurt and angry. Without looking back, Ron yelled loudly enough so that Hermione would hear.

"See you at the wedding!"

Ron could see Harry fidgeting out of the corner of his eye. First, he thought he was only buttoning his cuff links. Then, he assumed he was straightening his boutonnière. Finally, he realized he was so nervous that he was fidgeting.

"Hey, mate. Stop squirming, yeah?" he whispered under his breath. They were at the alter, Ron right next to Harry. Harry ran a hand through his hair.

"We'll just see how you hold up when you marry-" he stopped short as if he thought better of it, but Ron knew whose name he was about to say. He scowled as the music began to play and the flower girl came out, leaving a mass of pink rose petals in her wake.

Luna appeared first, taking her place across from Neville, hair long and shiny. She looked completely out of place in the bridesmaid dress that Ginny had picked out and without her usual odd charms and peculiar hand-fashioned jewelry. He noticed when she tucked hair behind her ear that she wore her radish earrings and he smirked before turning his attention back to the end of the aisle.

"Bloody hell," he muttered as he caught sight of Hermione. She looked beautiful. Her hair was twisted into an elegant knot and her dress hugged her body nicely, flowing elegantly away from her hips. She caught him staring at her and averted her gaze to Luna, blushing into her bouquet.

He watched her all the way down the aisle and didn't even look when his sister emerged, simply staring at Hermione as she turned her head to watch Ginny come towards the alter. He spent the entire ceremony trying to catch her eye and Hermione stubbornly refused to budge her gaze from Harry and Ginny.

When the priest finally announced in his raspy voice that they were officially married, Hermione was lost in the crowd and then Neville had gotten hold of Ron before he had the chance to go find her. Somehow he found himself at the reception with a drink in his hand.

Finally, finally he spotted Hermione by the drinks. She was reaching over the table to pluck up a butterbeer, when a hand curled around the glass she'd been aiming for and picked it up, holding it out to her…

…A hand belonging to Viktor Krum.

Ron felt his eyes narrowing. She'd brought him as a date. Was this some sort of sick, twisted joke to prompt Ron into apologizing? He was waiting for her to turn around and run into his arms, cursing Viktor for ever coming between them.

But she didn't. She smiled at him and took the glass he offered her, chatting away speedily and with more enthusiasm than Ron had seen her have in ages. He glared harder at the pair, wondering how Krum managed to get everything that Ron wanted, even his own girlfriend. And then he had a sickening thought. What if this wasn't a ploy to make him apologize first? What if Hermione actually did bring Krum as a date?

Ron had always known he was irrationally jealous. In the heat of the moment, he never really knew why he was angry, just that he was. His insecurities transferred into envy and he subconsciously lashed out at people he felt inferior to. But this was different. This was her rubbing it in that she really was with Krum. Ron knew that he was jealous. And he didn't care.

He's probably staying over with her, he thought angrily. Probably even sleeps in her bed.

His blood boiled. How dare he? How dare he touch her? How dare he even think of touching her? Hermione was his. Krum had absolutely no right to go near her, even. Especially not when Ron was ten feet from them!

He stormed over to the couple, Hermione now listening intently as Krum said something, his mouth moving much slower than her's had.

"-of course, I haff not seen him in so long ago. I vas a bit surprised to be hearing from him." Krum's gaze flitted up momentarily and locked on Ron. He registered his seething expression and seemed to know that if he stayed, nothing good would ensue.

"It vas lovely to see you again, Hermy-own-ninny, but your friend is here." He disappeared just as she looked up to see Ron looming over her, expression dark. She looked bored as she sipped from her drink.

"What is it now, Ron?" she asked, staring at the glass in her hands. His anger melted slightly when he heard her say his name, but he thought of Viktor in her bed and his skin crawled.

"You said you were just friends."

"Who? Viktor?" Hermione looked up at him through her eyelashes. She raised an eyebrow.

"You brought him as a-a date? Didn't you?" he sputtered. She frowned and turned back to her drink.

"So what if I did?" Hermione demanded sulkily. "What business is it of yours?"

"You're my girlfriend! How the hell is it not my business who you go running round with!" She blushed at his volume and glanced around quickly, setting her drink down.

"Hush, Ron. There are PEOPLE here."

"I don't care!" he yelled. She grabbed him by his elbow and towed him into a room beside the reception hall. Upon quick inspection, Ron realized they were in an extremely dark closet. He stopped yelling for a moment, puzzled.

"It's a broom closet," he stated. In the darkness he could see her rolling her eyes.

"Oh, good work. I can see that all the time spent in Auror training was not squandered on you, Ron," she hissed.

"Hey, that training was really brut-"

"Never mind that! I chose here because I thought it would be private enough that we could row without drawing a crowd."

"You lied to me," Ron accused. Hermione scoffed, pushing a dustpan out of her way with the toe of her heels as she leaned against the wall opposite Ron, creating some space.

"I did not. Viktor is a friend. Harry invited him. I had no idea that he'd be here, I was just as surprised as you." This set him back. He blinked at her for a moment, his anger gone.

"So, you aren't snogging him?"

"No, Ron." Her tone was derisive, as if she were speaking to a five year old.

"And he's not sleeping in your bed at your parent's house?"

"What? What are you on about?" Ron's ears went red, though she couldn't see in the dark.

"So… you haven't been talking to him behind my back?"

"No, Ron. Didn't you notice that Fleur's here too?" Hermione asked. Ron thought. He had noticed it, but he'd only assumed that she'd been invited because she was married to Bill.

"Well, yes."

"Exactly. Sometimes using your brain pays off," Hermione said. Ron furrowed his eyebrows.

"Hermione, come back to the flat," he said. It wasn't an invitation or a command, just a statement. Hermione laughed humorlessly.

"No, I don't think so Ron."

"Why not?" he asked her. She sighed and he could tell that she was done with being sarcastic and mean.

"You don't trust me."

"I do."

"Not enough! Obviously, you're still under the impression that I'm going to run away with the first man that comes calling." Ron raised a sarcastic eyebrow.

"Aren't you?"

"No. I was happy." Past-tense.

His eyes were beginning to adjust and he could make out Hermione's general outline. Some of her hair was coming out of it's coil and she was fiddling with her dress.

"So, come home," he said. She looked frustrated.

"It's not that simple."

"Why isn't it?" She opened her mouth, but he cut her off. "No, really, Hermione. Why does everything have to be so bloody complicated with you? I like you, you like me. What's the problem?"

"Ron," she sighed. He frowned. He was TIRED of everything being so difficult.

"Ron, you don't understand-" He cut her off.

"You're right, I don't." And then he was kissing her.

It wasn't like the heated, urgent kisses they shared when they first got together. The ones that they rushed into, unsure how much time was left. It wasn't the kisses that they exchanged between the bed sheets, soft and gentle and loving. It was rough and desperate, unsure if he'd ever get the chance to do it again. At first, Hermione tried to pull away, but Ron wouldn't let her. He fastened the back of his hand into her hair, the knot it had been twisted into coming undone. She pressed against his chest, attempting to push him away, but soon she was wrapping her arms around his neck, trying to get closer.

Hermione's lips parted and Ron acted quickly, pushing her lips open the rest of the way with his tongue. It was a jumble of lips, tongues, and teeth as he pressed her against the wall, kissing her fiercely.

His hand that wasn't woven into her hair pressed her into him by the small of her back. He was frantic, tasting every bit of her all at once, desperate to feel this at least once more. She complied, matching his urgency, forgetting her head as she always did when his lips were involved.

He could feel the hand on the small of her back moving around, as if it had a mind of its own. She didn't notice when he placed it over her stomach and began snaking it up. When he got to her ribcage he lifted his palm up, ghosted over her breasts, and reached blindly behind her neck. He held onto the back of her neck for a moment before blindly groping around for the clasp that held her dress together. Just as Ron's fingers grazed the button on the back of her dress she pulled back, understanding what he was doing.

"Ron," she murmured. He'd moved his lips down, now ravishing her neck. She let out an involuntary whimper and felt him grin against the sensitive skin below her earlobe.

"Mmm?" He pressed her into the wall again and sucked on her neck.

"Ron, we can't," she said breathily. He was now biting and sucking harder. Ron's hands were feeling up her back for the top of her dress again.

"Why not?" She groaned as she felt him open the first button. He moved back up to her mouth and pressed his lips to hers. She squirmed beneath him as he clumsily undid the second one.

"It's a closet, Ron. At your sister's wedding to your best friend." Third button undone. She tried to pull back, but she was already against the wall.

The hand that had been in her hair moved to the side of her neck then down. He groped her breast through the fabric of her dress. She bit her lip and closed her eyes, fighting the urge to moan. That would only encourage him to continue.

"They'll get their turn. Traditionally, the shagging is done on the honeymoon," he muttered against her lips, his hand moving to assist the other in getting her clothes off her. He'd taken his jacket off at some point and she was quickly undoing Ron's tie, giving in to the urge to be close to him again.

"Ron," she sighed, pulling him closer. He fumbled with the last button on her dress and it fell to the floor in a pool of silk, leaving her only in her knickers. Ron looked down at her hungrily, his eyes darkening with lust.

"Bloody hell, Hermione."

Forty-five minutes later, they emerged from the closet, hand-in-hand and smiling. Harry took no time in pointing this out to his bride and Ginny smiled, kissing him lightly on the lips as they danced.

"So, what'd you reckon he said to make her forgive him?" Harry asked, swaying. Ginny smiled wistfully, her euphoria still going strong as they watched Ron pull Hermione to the dance floor.

"I don't think it's what he said as much as what he did," she giggled, looking pointedly at Hermione's hair, which now fell down her back in loose curls, the careful updo long forgotten. Harry bunched his eyebrows and turned his head back to look at them.

"Blimey. Here? At the wedding? D'you really think so, Gin?"

"Didn't you see them coming from that broom cupboard over there?" She nodded her head in its direction as Harry dipped her. "And I do believe a see a small bruise on Hermione's neck that wasn't there before."

She smirked.

"How long d'you think it'll be before they're at it again?" Harry asked after a moment of quiet. Ginny thought a bit, spinning beneath his arm.

"I'd say they'll be at each other's throats by tomorrow morning. The next day at latest," she said, studying the pair. Ron just stepped on Hermione's foot and she was laughing at his sheepish expression.

"I wouldn't worry about it, it's only sexual frustration," Ginny told Harry and he held her closer.

"Hm. Well, considering how much shagging those two do, maybe we should fight more often." The song ended and Harry pressed a tender kiss to Ginny's neck. She grinned at him.

"Just think; we have our whole lives to devote to arguing," she said, slinging her arms around his neck.

"And shagging." He placed hands on her waist.

"Although, we might need to come up for air a few times," she laughed. He nodded.

"And food," he added. She laughed again.

"You are definitely a man."

"Well, that was sort of the point of today, love," Harry replied. Ginny smiled softly, placing a hand to his lips.

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

A/N: It's a little rough around the edges, but I always wondered if Dumbledore made the Deluminator that way so that when Ron messd it up with Hermione (you know that he had to have at some point) he could always find her.

Hermione and Ron are a little bit too stubborn for their own good aren't they? Neither ever wants to apologize first. Honestly, if it weren't for Harry and Ginny, I don't know what they'd do!

Reviews are lovely, but just reading is nice. (:

-Cass

P.S. Jealous Ron is so fun! He's just so irrational and funny!