5 Months Later

Working things out was as hard as they might have thought. Harry put forth the money for a fairly small house an hour's drive outside Ottery St. Catchpole. It wasn't a wizarding village, per se, but the residents were mostly Squibs or the families of Muggle-borns. Still, there were a few wizards and witches living there, so the new magical family didn't stick out too much.

The house had three bedrooms—though only one room was put to use. After the night spent in the large bed at the Burrow, none could bring themselves to sleep alone again. There was also a full bath with a half bath downstairs, a nicely stocked kitchen to please Harry, an office that they had had to agree to share—no house it seemed, provided more than one study—and a small sitting room complete with a fireplace finished out the house. It would be perfect for reading or playing chess. The fire was fully functional and not just for Floo use, to keep them nice and toasty on the cold winter nights.

The boys left most of the household decorating to Hermione. If left up to them, the house would be a color disaster. Hermione kept the colors fairly neutral, adding lovely rich and bright accents—sadly for Ron, no orange was allowed on the walls and the one time he had tried to charm the paint vibrant orange, the spell had backfired and left him flashing neon for the day. He'd learned his lesson quickly after that.

Their lives were filled with love, friendship, and sometimes, eardrum bursting, glass shattering fights. It was a life of old comforts and new discoveries.

They learned that their friendship could indeed survive a three-way marriage. Harry and Ron's friendship was as strong as ever, jokes came as easily as they had when they were children. They discovered family meals cooked by Harry, night time reads (their own version of bedtime stories) by Hermione, and Ron's recent love of gardening that had the backyard overflowing. Hermione said he was trying to recreate the Burrow, but Harry just thought it was brilliant. Each lightly scented breeze that wafted through the open backdoor in spring had him praising Ron, which always caused the man to blush a brilliant red to match his hair.

There were new discoveries that weren't entirely platonic, however. Harry learned that Hermione tasted of bitter coffee and oddly, of dark chocolate, even though she never ate a single piece. Ron learned the exact angle Hermione's back arched when he nibbled around her bellybutton. Hermione discovered she liked to sleep between her boys, and though they showed no signs of enjoying each other's company as more than that of a friend, she found her imagination working overtime as she drifted to sleep.

It was one such night, settled between a snoring Ron and a lightly tossing Harry, that Hermione began to put her supposedly brilliant mind to work.

She began with lightly dropping hints. A comment to Ron on how Harry's new haircut really brought out the green in his eyes, made him look so handsome.

Her first breakthrough, however, came from a conveniently placed statement about how Ron looked to be needing new shirts—all that Quidditch they were playing out in the open field behind their house was causing Ron to add weight and definition to his still somewhat gangly form.

Hermione watched, pleased beyond reason, as Harry's eyes roamed over Ron's form, taking in the muscles that stretched his favorite orange shirt tight.

"Hadn't noticed," Harry said, causing a surge of disappointment to well inside her. "Ron, mate, I can't believe I'm saying this but … you need new clothes."

Ron glanced at his shirt, frowning in confusion. "What's wrong with what I got on?"

"It's a bit … tight, don't ya think?" Harry asked as delicately as possible.

Ron frowned, channeling betrayal for his favorite shirt. "I like it. It's … comfortable," he said sullenly, arms crossing over his chest defensively.

Harry raised his hands in surrender. "Fine, fine." He turned to their wife with a grin. "I tried, Hermione."

Hermione sighed in frustration. Boys were so oblivious! She rose, storming from the room.

"What's her problem?" Ron asked.

"I don't know … but I think we just did something wrong," Harry said, sharing a look with his friend.

"Don't we always?" Ron asked fondly.

Still, they could get nothing from Hermione, who had pushed all her disappointment down. She felt she had made a small amount of progress. She decided to focus on the positive and continue trying.

BREAK BREAK BREAK BREAK BREAK

Hermione settled into an oversized chair in the sitting room with a sigh. The boys had gone out, a Quidditch trial somewhere that they had wanted to see given how rare open trials were … something Hermione had no interest in watching.

She felt like she was failing. She loved her husbands, but she felt like she was being torn in two different directions. They could hardly watch each other kiss her and being intimate was a whole other story. It was like they planned their sex life days in advance, just so that the other could be out of the house. Where was the spontaneity? It wasn't like Hermione was asking for cavemen who would toss her over their shoulder and ravish her … but something other than Harry or Ron suddenly making excuses to leave and the one left behind turning to her and asking for sex—they only had a few hours, after all.

Not that it took that long anymore. It had all turned very mechanical, almost as if sex were a chore or a business deal.

Hermione's crusade to bring the boys together was turning out much like her sex life—a disappointment. Harry, if not a complete convert, was at least willing to look for her sake. Ron was another story. He was as stubborn as ever. He tended to either grunt and ignore her or give her the oddest looks, like she was a chess move he just couldn't figure out.

It was all leaving Hermione feeling unsatisfied and forlorn.

There was a tap at the front window. All their windows were kept closed, no matter how much Ron protested. There were spells made to put over the window so the weather was kept out but still let delivery owls through, but it was on the tail-end of winter. The weather was still chill, but it wasn't the weather that had Hermione putting her foot down.

While they lived in a town of Squibs and Muggle-born families, that didn't mean it was a wizarding village. The people around them had jobs and friends in the Muggle world that were known to drop in from time to time. What would they think if they noticed the odd trio's window open in this weather? That was the agreement when they moved in—keep the outside of the house as 'normal' and Muggle as possible and any odd things were to be kept in the house.

Hermione shook her head in exasperation as she rose from her seat. Opening the window let the Weasley family owl through. It twittered as it flew around her. Hermione smiled as she held out an arm for the tiny thing. It was still young, but would grow. It was also easily excitable, often reminiscent of Pig in his younger years. Though Pig had never gotten any larger, he had settled.

Hermione gently took the letter from the creature's leg, waving it to the perch in the corner where it gulped down the fresh food and water.

She settled back into her chair, opening the rolled parchment. It was a surprise to see it was from Mrs. Weasley. These invitations usually came for Ron, but a moment later she understood why it had come for her—the invitation was only for her. Mrs. Weasley, call me Molly or Mum, knew the boys were out and wanted to know if she was willing to come over for tea and a chat.

Hermione thought about the invitation for only a moment before she was shooing Archer back out the window and making her way towards the fireplace. She hesitated briefly before hurrying back to pen a note for the boys, just in case they came home while she was gone.

Traveling through the fireplace was probably Hermione's favorite way to travel, dizzying and absolutely crazy, but at least there was no feeling of a hook behind her navel or of being slurped through a tube, and her feet stayed on the ground.

She was spat out in a sitting room vastly different from the one she had just left but no less comforting and homey. Hermione smiled as she saw Molly rubbing her hands on the apron wrapped around her plump form as she hurried in from the kitchen.

"Hermione," Molly called as she pulled the young woman into a fond hug.

"Molly," Hermione whispered, holding back the tears that threatened to fall. The frustrations of married life were catching up to her. It was also, at times like these, when she missed her own parents. Things had never been the same after she had wiped their memories and sent them to Australia. The last time she had heard from them they had decided they liked being Wendell and Monica better. Shortly after, they had packed up her childhood home and moved permanently back to Australia. There was no room in their new lives for a daughter Monica and Wendell didn't have.

Molly, the epitome of motherhood, sensed the change and began ushering her into the kitchen. "Into the kitchen with you. I'll have you a cup of tea before you know it and the biscuits will be out of the oven soon."

Hermione found herself forced into a seat with a cup of warm tea in her hand before she knew it. She sipped lightly from the cup as she watched Molly bustle around the kitchen. A few swishes of her wand had the mess from biscuit making cleaned up and the ingredients floating back to their respective cupboards. The welcoming smell of baking biscuits suffused the air and had Hermione closing her eyes as she breathed deeply. Tension, more than she had known she was carrying, slipped from her shoulders.

Biscuits were placed before her and she opened her eyes, reaching forward to grab one while it was still hot. Hermione dipped it delicately into her tea, moaning as she bit into the soggy cookie. The texture reminded her of the biscotti she had eaten while in France with her parents, only softer. The shape was similar as well. It was the perfect size to fit into a teacup. The taste however, was completely different. It was buttery with just a hint of almond and honey. It was one of the most delicious things Hermione had ever tasted, and something she'd be willing to drink more tea for. She would swear off her addiction to coffee if Molly would keep her in a steady supply of these.

"These are delicious, Molly," Hermione praised as she reached for another.

"They're something my own mother, bless her soul, taught me to bake. I was hoping to teach them to Ginny but …" Molly trailed off. There was no need to continue, though, because Hermione had heard all the horror stories of Ginny in the kitchen. "I could teach you sometime, if you like," Molly said hesitantly. "These things should be passed on. I lost many of my mother's recipes and you can teach them to my grandchildren," Molly rambled.

Hermione smiled, her heart warming as she reached out to cover Molly's hand with her own. "You'll teach them yourself, Molly, but I'd love to learn." The smile she got in return was more than worth it.

They settled comfortably into their chairs as women for centuries before had done.

The conversation moved on from there. Molly asked about the boys, seeming to know how to get to the heart of the problem.

"Harry started making a fuss about finding a job. He's looking into the Auror program, but still isn't sure if he wants to track down dark wizards for the rest of his life. Ron is doing what Ron always does—he's procrastinating. I think part of the reason he's gone to the Quidditch trials is to see how strict they are in their acceptances. He's been practicing out in the field more," Hermione explained.

"And you, dear. How are doing?"

"I'm fine. Honestly," she added at the look Molly was giving her, but the concern only seemed to deepen at her answer.

"Hermione," Molly said sternly. "I know that look. Merlin, I've had that look. What have the boys done now?"

Hermione hesitated. Could she really talk to Molly about this? This was her husband's mother, but … to have so many kids she had to know a thing or two about sex, right?

"I'm no blushing virgin, Hermione." Molly arched her brow, not blushing an ounce. "Think of me as only a girlfriend. You can talk to me about anything and I promise not to think any less of you, if it helps."

Hermione lowered her eyes to the table, flicking small biscuit crumbs with her fingers. "I think they've started scheduling our sex lives," Hermione whispered. She felt like a fool, a whiny, petulant fool.

"Is that a problem?" Molly asked neutrally, which Hermione was very thankful for.

"I love my husbands, both of them, but it's like they plan it days ahead so that the other has time to find somewhere to be. There's no spontaneity," Hermione sighed. She couldn't stop everything from pouring out, even if she was vaguely embarrassed that she was talking about it to her husband's mother. "The first time was wonderful. They were both so caring and they took their time to learn what I liked." Hermione smiled with a small laugh. "They know me so well and they let me sate my curiosity, let me explore." The smile slipped from her face. "Now, it's all so mechanical. There's no more exploration and they tend not to put what they know into practice anymore. We have to be fast so that we're done before the other gets home. They barely even kiss me anymore!" Hermione shrieked.

"Being in a relationship is hard. I'm sure being a trio is even harder. They're trying not to upset the balance, right? And they're leaving you unsatisfied because of it."

"Yes, that's it exactly." Hermione nodded, relieved that Molly understood.

"Have you talked to them about this? No, I can see you haven't. But there's something else, isn't there?" Molly asked calmly.

Hermione felt her eyes widen before she ducked her head, a blush staining her cheeks. Could she really know? "Even if there was, it wouldn't work the way things are now."

A light bulb went off in Molly's head. "Ah, you think you're the only one that has fantasies?" Molly giggled, feeling twenty years younger. "I had a few of those in my day." She leaned forward, glancing nervously around the room before she whispered, "My favorite came about through many a fight between Arthur and Lucius Malfoy. That tension has to go somewhere," Molly said with a sigh, gazing into nothing.

Hermione's eyes doubled in size. She couldn't believe Molly had said that!

"I'm guessing yours is somewhat close to mine," Molly stated.

Hermione blushed a deep red. "We live together, we sleep in the same bed … we're a family, but—" Hermione paused, nibbling her lower lip, unsure how to continue. What was it she truly wanted? Sure, the thought of her boys together made her more than a little hot under the collar, but while she wouldn't say no, she didn't want to force it. What she wanted was a connection, a connection with her, a connection between her boys. "There's no connection. I thought when we married that I'd be the link between them, but maybe I was just fooling myself. Maybe our marriage will always be like this and that's the best I should ask for."

"I think you should talk to them. Wasn't it Ron who said anything else could be worked out?" Molly coaxed.

"What do I say that won't sound like a blow to their pride?" Hermione asked, distressed. She didn't want the boys to think she didn't love them or that she didn't enjoy their time together … she just wanted more.

"You tell them the truth, dear. You let them know that scheduling your intimacy isn't the way to go. You tell them what you want, ask them what they want, and work around that," Molly explained kindly.

Silence followed as Hermione drifted in her thoughts.

Molly let her drift as she began to clear the table. Once the table was cleared of dishes and wiped clean, Molly broached the subject as she had originally planned. "There was something I was hoping to talk to you about, Hermione, dear."

Hermione jerked in her seat. "What was it you wanted, Molly?"

"Well, your one-year anniversary is coming up in a few months." Molly hesitated before continuing. "Most couples go through a courtship period before they marry. Courtship usually lasts a year before a ceremony is held. Circumstance called for your early marriage, but I was hoping you'd be willing to follow tradition and hold the ceremony on the year anniversary," Molly said hopefully.

"We planned to have a ceremony after we got married but things just never came together. I'll talk to the boys about it and get back to you."

"Well, if you decide you want to, I have magazines and, and notes," Molly rambled. Hermione could tell it was something Molly had been thinking about for a long time—probably since the day they got married.

"I'd love your input, Molly," Hermione grinned. A glance at the time had her jumping from her seat. It was two hours after the time the boys had told her the Quidditch trials would end. "I've got to go, Molly. Harry's cooking dinner tonight and I'm already late."

They said their goodbyes in front of the fireplace and Molly was kind enough to send some biscuits home for them.

The fireplace whisked her back to the small house she shared with her husbands.

A house in chaos.

Ron, Harry explained, had wanted to help with dinner and it seemed he had the same flair for cooking as Ginny.

Hermione Vanished a smoking pot of … something, with a grimace. She could swear it had moved just before she Vanished it.

"Sorry, Hermione. There was nothing alive in that pot when I started it, but after Ron touched it, it kept glaring at me," Harry whispered, though Hermione could hear a hint of a whimper in his voice.

"All right, that's it. Ron!" she yelled sternly at where her husband was cowering. "You are banned from cooking in the kitchen unless it's something you can't screw up—like a sandwich."

"Agreed," Harry said, glaring sullenly at the mess that had become of his precious kitchen.

Luckily, Harry managed to salvage something edible from the mess. Ron was coaxed from the cupboard he'd somehow shoved his broad frame into and dinner was back on.

Dinner was pleasant, any glares Harry might have given Ron were ignored and completely forgotten when the boys began regaling her with tales of the Quidditch trials. The hopefuls trying out were few, so each one got a chance to play a game with the team. It was one of these games that Ron was telling her of, hands waving in the air.

"So, Hector, this big brute of a guy trying out for Beater got into the game. He was doing bloody brilliant, even managed to knock one of the Chasers off his broom." Ron stopped with a snicker. "Then, right in the middle of a swing, he jerked around and whacked something behind him. I didn't see what it was, but Harry had that look on his face—you know that look he gets?" Ron continued without giving Hermione a chance to answer, though she did know the look Ron was talking about. "Then, he just bursts out laughing. Turns out the bloke had hit the Snitch."

"The thing is, this guy was big, Hermione, and he was good. He was knocking the Bludgers around like they weighed nothing. So, ya know, when he hit the Snitch—tiny little thing like that, it really flew. I'm sure the Aurors will be called in sometime down the line when some poor, unsuspecting Muggle catches a glimpse of it," Ron said.

"I'm just hoping it's not one of those bird enthusiasts. They're always taking pictures, hoping to find some new species. There'd be a hell of a time covering it up if they tried getting the pictures published," Harry said with a shake of his head and a wry chuckle. "Anyway, how was your day? You spent it with Mrs. Weasley, didn't you?"

Hermione smiled even though her stomach was tied in knots. "She asked about you both and sent some biscuits home with me." Hermione hesitated, unsure how to bring up the subject of a wedding ceremony.

"What is it, Hermione?" Ron asked, frown furrowing his brow.

"Molly told me about wizarding traditions and courtship rituals—about how courtships usually last a year."

"Our one-year anniversary is coming up," Ron said in realization. "Not soon, soon but she wants us to have a ceremony, doesn't she? We'll need time to send out invitations and set everything up."

Hermione nodded, glancing down at the table. Fingers under her chin startled her into looking up. She stared up into a verdant gaze that was filled with worry and uncertainty.

"Don't you want to have a ceremony?" Harry asked sadly. "Do, do you not want to be married?"

"Of course I do!" Hermione exclaimed. How could Harry think otherwise?

"Did I" —he glanced at Ron—"did we do something wrong, then?"

"When was the last time you kissed me?" She hadn't meant to ask, it had just popped out of her mouth with no actual thought, and it hung in the air like the silence before a storm.

"This morning," Ron answered.

"No, I mean, really kissed me?" Molly had told her to talk to them, to explain what she wanted and now that the question was out there, Hermione decided to just go with it.

"What are you talking about? We kiss you all the time." Ron, it seemed, was going to be purposely obtuse. Hermione could see the glimmer of understanding blossoming in his eyes, but knew he was going to hold onto his convictions for as long as he could—stubborn, that one.

Hermione sighed sadly. "I feel like I'm living in a house with my best friends—friends who occasionally have satisfying sex … but nothing mind-blowing," Hermione said quietly.

She watched the hurt blossom on both of their faces and rushed to explain. "I know the sex can be mind-blowing. Our first time and the times after that …" She huffed a small laugh. "You're both so alike. The year before fourth year, I spent researching everything I could on sex. I thought that if I just knew all the mechanics, nothing else would matter. I'm all about books, but both of you could care less about researching. You're much better at the practical side."

Hermione saw the boys were listening, but things didn't look good. Ron was frowning while Harry was worrying his bottom lip.

"So, what's the problem?" Ron asked moodily.

"Have you listened to nothing I've said, Ronald?" Hermione took a deep breath, she needed to talk about this calmly or something would be said that would ruin everything. "You don't look at me like I'm the most beautiful woman in the world, not anymore." She leaned forward, laying her upper body across the newly cleared table, her face even with Ron's. "When was the last time you looked at me and felt your breath catch, your fingers itch to touch me?" Hermione inched across the table, rubbing her face, cat-like, against Ron's cheek. She pushed her face against his, lips brushing across the shadow of stubble along his jaw before they made themselves at home beside his ear. Her voice was hushed and yet still loud enough for Harry to overhear.

"When was the last time you were so overcome with lust that you just had to have me? That you pushed me against a wall, my legs wrapped around your waist as you ate at my mouth? When was the last time you looked me in the eye as you pushed inside me … oh … so … slowly? Teased me with such a slow pace?" Hermione wasn't the only one panting from her words. There was a flush rising to Ron's cheeks and Harry watched with wide eyes and a mouth that had come unhinged. His eyes glowed with heat, though, and not shock. Well, maybe a bit of shock. Hermione was never one for talking dirty.

The mouth, rough against her lips, caught her by surprise. Long, blunt fingers, callused from hours on a broom, buried in her hair and used the leverage to drag her across the table. A startled noise escaped her throat as her back was pushed onto the tabletop, dishes clattering to the floor.

Ron wedged between her thighs, mouth and tongue working diligently at her mouth, teeth nipping lightly at her lips. Hardness brushed against her aching core, dragging a moan from her.

Surprisingly, that noise wasn't the only sound in the room. Harry, it seemed, was gaining his senses back, getting over the shock.

Hermione pulled herself out of the kiss, dragging in air through her gasping mouth as Ron latched onto her throat. Harry's eyes blazed brightly, Hermione noticed, and his hands gripped the table's edge tightly in a white knuckled grip. Her hand flashed out without thought, fingertips brushing as close as she could get. She watched him hesitate, eyes flicking to where Ron was sucking at the flesh where neck met shoulder. His hand uncurled tentatively from the table, stretching out to thread through her own.

This was what she had been looking for—passion, spontaneity, and the love of both her boys. Her fingers tightened around Harry's as Ron gave a particularly harsh nip, dragging her attention back to him.

Ron's fingers worked deftly at the buttons of her shirt, fingers slip-sliding over smooth flesh, following an invisible trail down the open front before his hands curled around her ribs, wrists brushing the cloth off to each side. Hermione shivered as hot flesh was exposed to the chill of the air.

Her eyes fluttered open as she felt Ron pull back. There was a look in his eyes that she hadn't seen in months; it was a look that said she was the most beautiful woman in the world. It said he felt so lucky to be where he was. There was also possessiveness in his gaze as he ran his eyes over her exposed chest.

Ron ran shaking fingers reverently along her body, following the cloth and metal that cupped full breasts as they heaved with each breath Hermione took. He drew designs across heated flesh, tracing across scratchy lace with a look of wonder in his eyes.

Hermione gave a shout of surprise as warmth surrounded her fabric-covered breast. She could feel the heat and the wetness seeping quickly through the cloth, but bras nowadays just weren't made to feel much else. With this in mind, Hermione wrapped an arm around Ron's neck and pulled her hand from Harry's, using the leverage she gained to push herself up.

The snaps of her bra were simple to undo and, seconds later, the straps were sliding sensuously from her shoulders.

Pained moans sounded through the air before a heated mouth latched onto the uncovered flesh. Hermione's head snapped back, mouth dropping open around a choked moan. Her eyes gazed upwards, unseeing, towards the pale wood of the ceiling.

She tried desperately to hold onto her composure, to not just fly apart at the seams. Hermione was sure Ron had let the world fall away because he, he and Harry, had been so careful to keep their marriages separate. But here was Ron, furiously working mouth dragging noises from her that she would be embarrassed about later and fingers working at the button of her jeans, with Harry not but inches away.

Harry, who had something close to pain lingering in his eyes as he watched them with longing. His hands had clasped the table again as if to hold himself back as he strained in his seat. Hermione could see he was seconds from leaving, from just walking out and leaving them to have their privacy.

It would ruin everything, Hermione realized, panic rising in her throat. Her hand scrambled across the table, reaching desperately to hold him there, make him feel included.

The motion and sound drew a triumphant Ron's attention from where he was pulling Hermione's jeans swiftly from her legs, leaving her covered in only ivory-colored lace that hugged her hips tightly.

Ron's eyes were glazed, pupils blown with lust as he raised his head. Hunger fueled by desire raged through him as his eyes took in the feast before him. Hermione lay on her back, almost completely bare with her hair frothing around her face. Her cheeks were flushed, pink spreading down her chest, which heaved with her panting breaths. His eyes lingered longingly on the full breasts. Ron knew they were just large enough for his hands to palm—not small by any means.

Blinking to clear the haze, Ron frowned as he noticed that Hermione was paying no attention to him. He followed the line of her gaze and a blush suffused his cheeks, clashing brightly with his hair.

"Harry," Ron managed to gasp out. He watched as Harry's head snapped up and the heat in those gem-like eyes caused him to blush deeper, but vaguely, he noticed his erection hadn't diminished one bit. It was embarrassing and confusing, and something he really didn't want to be forced to examine right this second.

Ron could just hear his mum's shrill voice ringing in his ears—'What would Madame Etiquette say?' Problem was, he wasn't sure. How was something like this supposed to work? Could he make love to his wife while her husband—her other husband watched? But, maybe that wasn't the question he should be asking.

Could he make love to Hermione as Harry watched … maybe even participated? That one was a bit easier to answer, made all the more easy by the desire that shined brightly from Hermione. It would be embarrassing as all bloody hell, and he probably wouldn't be able to look Harry in the eye for weeks, maybe months, to come, but … yes, he could go through with this. Not for himself, but for Hermione and Harry.

He would do this for Hermione, who was looking at him with such pleading. Hermione, who they had just been told was not being satisfied in this relationship, and he had promised to always make her happy when he had married her. Hadn't that been in the vows somewhere?

He would do this for their poor, broken Harry, who was so sure he didn't deserve their love and affection. Harry, who was looking at him with such a blank look, emotion all but hidden behind the wall he had built during the war. But Ron could see the cracks forming with every passing second. Every second Ron was indecisive was another chink in Harry's carefully crafted armor. Ron had no desire to see that wall demolished by the blasting hex that was his silence.

Ron breathed deeply, bracing himself for what was to come, and nodded. He felt the relief like a physical slap to the face as Harry slumped in his seat and Hermione all but melted into the table.

Seated between Hermione's legs, he rubbed his face soothingly against the inside of her thigh. Or, it was meant to be soothing. The air hovering in the room changed as flame bright hair brushed ivory lace, tickling gently against the exposed skin edging the lace.

At the hitch of breath, Ron forgot everything but the woman splayed before him like a feast. Fiendfyre seemed to come alight in his veins at the sound. With a smirk, he began nibbling up the sensitive strip of skin along Hermione's inner thigh, reaching up to hold her hips as she squirmed and writhed.

The scent of her was strong as Ron worked his way up, nose nuzzling along the lacy edge of her panties. He inhaled deeply, breathing out with a groan.

The hands holding her hips smoothed down her thighs, giving a swift tug at her knees to settle her bottom closer to the edge of the table, before working their way back up. Ron slipped the tips of his fingers under the waistband of her panties, teasing as his knuckles brushed over the light dip of her stomach. He worked the panties down slowly, Hermione arching to help.

Ron breathed deeply to regain his control. Once he was sure he wouldn't ravish Hermione, he continued. Taking the ankles of her dangling feet into his hands, he skimmed along smooth flesh, massaging lightly at her calves before he used his hold to gently spread her legs.

Hermione glistened in the Muggle lighting and the scent of her reached out to Ron. It drew him closer and the heat of his breath had Hermione writhing with a choked squeal.

Ron lowered his face, tongue flicking out tentatively. They had done this before, many times in the beginning, and she tasted differently every time. He hadn't realized how much he had missed this. The taste of her was addictive and the sounds that reached his ears, slightly muffled as Hermione's thighs clamped around his head, holding him to her, were beyond brilliant.

The sounds took a slightly different twist and Ron's eyes fluttered open, rolling upwards. Only, it wasn't Hermione's eyes he met but Harry's. Harry, who had his mouth locked around a dusky pink nipple while his hand massaged and pinched the other.

It was less embarrassing in the heat of the moment, but Ron still dropped his eyes, shutting them tightly as he focused on the motions of his tongue and the passion-filled noises Hermione was making as she arched under their touch. Her hips worked frantically as she whined.

Ron reached a hand around her tightening, shuddering thighs to press and roll the small, nearly hidden button of flesh between his fingers. The lithe body under them seized, thighs tightening to an almost unbearable degree as a long whine emitted before Hermione collapsed, as though boneless, onto the table, gasping for air.

Ron lapped hungrily at the juices that spilled forth before leaning back to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Wow," Hermione panted for breath. What a sight they would make should anyone walk in on them. Her boys were fully dressed and here she was, eyes closed as she sprawled nude on their kitchen table. Still, she couldn't bring herself to care what anyone else might have thought. This was beyond what she had hoped for, beyond what she thought she would have gotten from the boys.

Hermione's eyes flew open as she heard the sound of a zipper. Harry was still seated on the table beside her, she noticed, as she took in the ceiling above her … so that had to mean the sound came from Ron. What was he doing? Of course she knew what he was doing, she just hadn't expected it! Hermione had been beyond ecstatic to have gotten them to come this far with her while the other was in the room, but to take it to the final step? That was by no means expected.

Ron's face was still alight with lust but Hermione noticed the nervousness buried in his eyes and the way they almost but not quite flicked towards Harry. He appeared above her to block her view of the ceiling. Still in a stunned silence, Hermione jolted slightly as she felt Ron's hand brush her as he positioned himself. She felt as he used his thumb to guide himself, the tip of the digit sliding in the slick wetness of her before he pushed forward. His erection slid through his hand and she felt herself expand to accommodate him, pleasure surging through her as she forgot her concerns.

This was something he knew, Ron thought. He forced himself not to even glance at Harry; keeping all his attention focused on Hermione was just easier. His stomach squirmed and though it wasn't something completely unpleasant, it was not a feeling he was used to, so Ron did what he always did—he ignored it and pretended it didn't exist. He pushed his body forward into Hermione, knees knocking against the table as he dipped forward, lips settling comfortably against Hermione's. Her lips were slightly chapped from years of nibbling at them, and that was familiar and comforting as well.

Ron glided easily into the beautiful woman below him, his early work put to good use. The sounds coming from her were even better, he thought with a groan. Her fingers scrabbled for purchase on the wood table before one wound around his neck, scraping at his back as Hermione sought grounding. The other found Harry's ankle, grasping at the bony appendage before Harry rescued it from mauling. Ron watched, feelings in a jumble, as their fingers entwined.

Again, he ignored the emotions that welled up, choosing instead to focus on the smooth and steady glide, the tensing and releasing of his muscles as he pumped his hips. He let the sounds coming from Hermione be a grounding influence and allowed them to stoke the fire of his passion.

Groans sounded throughout the room and cries echoed through the kitchen as Hermione gave herself over to feelings her boys were causing. The sounds were muffled as Harry leaned forward, catching her mouth in a harsh kiss. Teeth clicked before they fell into a rhythm. Harry's tongue matched the thrusts of Ron's hips, pushing her ever closer to the edge as his hands palmed her breasts.

The feel of them both was heaven for Hermione, but she wanted to make them feel just as good as she was feeling. With this in mind, Hermione clamped down tightly around Ron's pistoning hardness as she pulled her hand free from Harry's grasp.

Harry pulled back from the kiss to look at Hermione in concern, afraid he'd done something wrong, but his fears were allayed as Hermione's nimble fingers worked the buttons of his slacks. His eyes widened and his breath caught as she palmed him, fingers curling around him. His eyes fluttered closed at the first stroke and he swallowed a moan.

Hermione's hand worked diligently as Harry's lips slammed back over hers. His hands went to work squeezing and massaging her breasts with renewed vigor. Hermione stroked him faster as Ron's thrusts into her sped up.

They worked perfectly together, just as she knew they would. Neither tried to outdo the other, so it was no surprise when Ron's thumb flicked over her clit at the same time as Harry's fingers tweaked her nipple. The surprise came with the spiraling climax that hit her right after. Fiendfyre burned her veins, and the pain in her head as she slammed it back against the table was negligible. Spots flared brightly in her vision before the world went dark around her.

Her hand clenched tightly around Harry, who used the opportunity to thrust quickly into her fist, panting breaths escaping his parted lips before he gave a low cry as he followed Hermione into orgasm.

Hermione lay boneless as Ron thrust once and again, before his body seized above her and she felt warmth splash against her clenching walls as he climaxed. He collapsed over her as all three breathed heavily.

Hermione managed to summon enough energy to grab the nearest wand, which she used to Banish the mess they had made. She tried relaxing back onto the table, but it wasn't as soft as it had seemed a moment ago with pleasure coursing through her. She squirmed under Ron, bumping her elbow into Harry as she tried to get comfortable. It wasn't working. She reached up, shaking Ron's shoulder.

"Come on, Ron. You're squishing me and the table is hard," Hermione said, pushing at his shoulder when he wouldn't move.

It took Harry's help before they were able to rouse Ron enough that he moved. Though he didn't move far, dropping exhaustedly into a kitchen chair.

It took them multiple tries before they succeeded in dragging themselves up the stairs to bed. Everything else was forgotten as Morpheus tugged them into the realm of dreams.

BREAK BREAK BREAK BREAK BREAK

Hermione woke the next morning to the smell of coffee. She slipped from under the dead weight of Ron's arm, wincing at the chill of the wood floor. She stepped lightly across the room to grab her house robe from the hook on the door. Tugging it closely around herself, she made her way silently down the runner-lined stairs.

She found Harry leaning over the island counter, pushing plain oatmeal around in the bowl with a spoon. He didn't look up, giving no clue that he might have heard her enter. Hermione moved quietly behind him, sliding her body against his back, arms wrapping around his waist, and knew when he didn't jump that he had heard her—he had just chosen not to acknowledge her.

Hermione nuzzled into the cloth covering the skin between his shoulder blades. Her sigh warmed the cloth, heat seeping into the skin below before she rested her cheek against his back, eyes fluttering closed.

The bowl clicked as Harry dropped his spoon, hands sliding up and down over her arms. Harry turned slowly to slip his arms around Hermione's shoulders, pulling her closer against him as he dropped a kiss to her bushy hair. Harry squeezed tightly before gently guiding her towards a seat.

Hermione glanced at the table, wondering why they weren't eating there, but figured it wouldn't be very hygienic until it was scrubbed clean and thought no more about it as a bowl of oatmeal with chunks of cranberries and a light sprinkling of sugar was set in front of her. A spoon was quick to follow and she used it to stir the sugar in, scooping up a small amount. She groaned at the taste. Harry had cooked the oatmeal with the last of the bananas. It was a heavenly breakfast, made even better when a cup of coffee was offered to her.

Hermione continued to eat, watching as Harry made his way around the kitchen, scooping the last of the oatmeal into a bowl before he set about cleaning up.

There was a tromping on the stairs, like a herd of elephants stomping through their house. Hermione shook her head, wondering how one person could make so much noise when they were just coming down the stairs.

Ron came through the archway shortly after the noise, seating himself at the end of the island. The bowl that held the last of the oatmeal was placed before him and Ron gave no acknowledgment as he picked up his spoon and began shoveling the food into his mouth. Hermione wrinkled her nose at the action, but it was just how Ron had always eaten so she was used to it. She guessed it had something to do with living in a house with five other boys who were all vying for the best bits of food. Hermione still wasn't completely sure why that was. Molly always made more than enough food. It was something she'd never been able to understand before Harry had found the contract.

With the little amount of money the Weasleys made, what with Arthur being low on the Ministry totem pole and Molly being a stay at home mother, they really shouldn't have enough money for all the necessities let alone enough for that much food. Now it all made sense, however; the money came from the Potter account. Hermione felt pride for Molly and Arthur. Others would have gutted the account and lived as lavishly as the money would have enabled them, but the Weasley parents had taken only the bare minimum. And for all Ron's ghastly eating habits, he'd grown into a good man. All the Weasleys had under their parents' guidance.

Hermione pushed her own bowl away. She leaned back, full and content, with her coffee in hand. She sipped at the cup of bitter liquid with a sigh. It wasn't as hot as it had been, but she was pleased to see that it was still warm enough to let her enjoy the last dregs.

"What are you two going to be doing today?" Hermione asked, eyes focused on Harry as he bustled around the kitchen. The kitchen was clean, not a speck of oatmeal or ingredients left out, and yet Harry was still scrubbing the slate gray marble countertops. If she wasn't mistaken, he'd been scrubbing that exact spot for the last five minutes.

"Quidditch," Ron mumbled curtly, not glancing up from his food. This wasn't so different from usual. Ron's main focus was always food, once said food was set in front of him. Yet, there was a tenseness to his shoulders, a tightness in the way he held his spoon.

Hermione decided to probe. "Oh, so you and Harry are going to be in the field all day?"

"No," Ron said loudly. "Uh, I mean, uh, I got a letter from the Bats," Ron managed to stutter out.

Hermione arched an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. What was up with her boys?

"It was more of, of an invitation really. They're looking for a Chaser. I know it's not my usual position, but I've been practicing and I'm—I'm good. Quigley, the Captain, asked me out to their field for a game. If I can play well with the team I'll really have a chance," Ron said, his enthusiasm for Quidditch showing through. Hermione could see however, that he still wasn't looking at Harry—nor was Harry looking at him.

"And you, Harry? Will you be going to watch?" Hermione asked.

"Nah, I got my own invitation letter. Amelia asked me in to run the Auror course. It's a rare chance, and it will let me know if being an Auror is really what I want to do. It's not something I'm going to pass up," Harry said.

Hermione narrowed her eyes as she looked between the boys. Ron's focus was on his empty bowl and Harry had gone back to wiping down the already sparkling counter. They were avoiding each other. She thought they had gotten past that last night. Hermione shook her head with a sigh. Maybe they just needed time to get used to the idea. "I think I'm going to visit Molly today. What should I tell her about the ceremony? Should we begin planning or will you two still be avoiding each other in six months?" Hermione asked sardonically.

"We're not—," Harry and Ron began together, eyes meeting across the kitchen island. Harry's chin raised, a stubborn gleam in his eye. Hermione saw a hint of confusion there as well. Harry wasn't sure what was wrong with what they had done last night. Ron had given his okay at the time, so he wasn't going to look away first.

Ron felt the heat rising in his cheeks as images from last night flashed through his head. His eyes dropped back to his bowl in embarrassment. "Start the planning," Ron said in determination.

"Ron—," Hermione began, voice carrying a world of worry. Had she just broken their marriage beyond repair? Was Ron trying to spare her feelings by going ahead with the ceremony?

"I'm sure about the wedding, Hermione," Ron said softly, hand reaching over the island's marble top to clasp her hand in his. "Everything else will work itself out. Isn't that what we've done from the start? I just … I need time. Can you give me that?" Ron asked, looking deeply into Hermione's eyes before his gaze switched to Harry.

Harry's resolve weakened and he looked down with a sigh, nodding his head. Ron was his best friend and he could give him time. "'Course, mate."

"Just time?" Hermione asked, lip trembling slightly. Maybe she hadn't ruined things, but she had to be sure.

Ron grinned at her, leaning forward to plant a kiss on her lips. "Just time," he confirmed. "Now, let's all get dressed and go our separate ways. We can meet up back here for a late dinner and Hermione can tell us all about the planning Mum's already done." A sheepish smile stretched Ron's cheeks before he pulled at Hermione's hand, pulling her from her seat. Heat reached his eyes as the robe she was wearing slipped, sliding open to show a bare expanse of chest, the fabric dipping between full breasts to create a V under her bellybutton. He shook off the arousal. "Come on, don't want to be late."

It took them an hour and a half to take separate showers—cleaning charms could only do so much after all. Another fifteen minutes was spent getting dressed. It was as Harry and Ron were walking out the door that Ron hurled himself back through the door, taking two steps at a time on his way back up the steps. Hermione shared a bemused look with Harry. Weasleys were always forgetting something; it was something of a rite of passage and had been a major annoyance when Hogwarts had rolled around. The herd of elephants was back on the stairs, tromping their way down. Ron appeared a moment later, broom slung over his shoulder and his favorite Quaffle cradled under his arm.

A swift kiss from them both and they were gone, setting off down the road towards the charmed Apparition point. Hermione closed the door tightly, twisting the lock before she glanced at the clock. It was coming in on eleven o'clock, certainly not too early to visit the Burrow. After so many children, it was practically programmed into Molly to rise with the sun.

With this in mind, Hermione moved to the fireplace. On the mantle above the fire stood a framed photo. It was a shot taken while at Hogwarts. The trio stood before the Black Lake, as the sun rose from between the mountains behind them into a deep blue sky, shining and reflecting off the surface of the lake. They stood on the banks of the lake, bundled in cloaks and festive Gryffindor scarves. They huddled together against the cold, but the smiles on their faces showed they gave no care for the weather. Harry's left arm encircled Hermione's waist while his right was looped around Ron's neck. The photo, unlike most wizarding photos, didn't change much. Ron was known to occasionally wave, scarves and hair blowing in an unseen wind, but they always stayed huddled together.

It was behind this picture that Hermione reached, pulling the small round pot that held their Floo powder forward. She scooped out a small pinch, returning the cap to the pot before she slid the pot back into place. With one last look at the photo, Hermione knelt before the fire. The pinch of grainy powder was tossed into the flames already burning there. "The Burrow," Hermione said, speaking clearly.

The flames sparked, exploding outwards as they flashed green before they settled. Hermione leant closer, pushing her head into the coolness of the flames. Her eyes clenched shut as her head spun. It was a nauseating experience to feel your knees touching carpeted floor, your hands curled around the grate to hold your upper body, and to have your head spin at dizzying speeds and in angles your bones weren't meant to bend.

Once the spinning stopped, Hermione peeked one eye open. The short walkway before the main room of the kitchen of the Burrow swam before her, causing her to shake her head gently before she opened the other eye. She was never sure why she always ended up in different fireplaces. She guessed with no specification of which Floo she wanted, it was left up to magic to choose for her.

"Molly?" Hermione called. She hoped she wasn't interrupting anything or that Molly hadn't gone out to run an errand. She didn't think she could stand a day at home all alone. There was a clatter from above. "Molly?"

The person who walked through the kitchen's archway was not Molly Weasley. It was, however, a Weasley. Looking into the face of Ginny Weasley, Hermione couldn't decide if she was thankful or not.

"Mum's not here," Ginny said. Her tone was polite and her face smoothed of all emotion, but her eyes told the story. They shone with pain, a mild dislike, but mostly they were shadowed with hurt.

"Oh," Hermione mumbled. She was unsure of what she was supposed to say. She'd broken the unspoken code of friendship and married not just the woman's brother, but her crush—the man she thought she loved. And maybe Ginny had loved Harry, but Hermione was almost positive that what Ginny had loved more was the idea of Harry.

Didn't every girl dream of a knight in shining armor coming to rescue them? A knight who would ride off into the sunset with them to live happily ever after? Except, their ever after wouldn't have been very happy. "Do you know when she'll be back?" Hermione didn't have a chance to get her answer as a sound from the front room drifted into the kitchen.

"Ginny!" Molly exclaimed as she saw her daughter. Hermione had a clear view into the living room as Molly shoved a stack of magazines into one of the bags she was holding. "Oh, and Hermione! Why don't you come on through, dear?" If Molly saw the slight narrowing of her daughter's eyes, she made no move to acknowledge it. "I've got some of those biscuits you liked so much left over and I can whip up some tea. Will you be staying Ginny?"

Ginny threw a distrustful look over her shoulder towards Hermione's head in the fireplace before she answered. "Yeah, yeah, I think I will be." The skin around Molly's eyes tightened as Ginny moved towards her, reaching for the bags in her arms. "Here, Mum, let me take those to the kitchen for you." With no way to protest without drawing suspicion, Molly handed over the bags.

"Come on through, dear," Molly said, eyes flicking nervously past the fireplace and towards the kitchen.

Hermione pulled her head from the fire, wondering what those magazines had been. They were sure to be something that would upset Ginny. Her eyes widened as Ron's voice from this morning came to her, 'and Hermione can tell us all about the planning Mum's already done.' Oh, Merlin, they were bridal magazines, weren't they? Hermione scurried up from the floor and stepped quickly through the fire. She swirled through the Floo, windows into other houses rushing past her before she was thrown out into the Burrow.

Molly gave a tight smile before they hurried to the kitchen, each hoping that Ginny hadn't taken it upon herself to unpack the bags or that if she had they could get there fast enough to stop her from unpacking the one with the magazines.

They entered the kitchen to find the crumpled bags pushed off to one side of the table. Ginny was standing on the opposite side of the table from them, head down with her auburn hair hanging around her face as she gazed at the spread out pile of bridal magazines. Hermione saw the young woman's throat work as she swallowed harshly.

Ginny took shuddering breaths, trying to calm herself. A scream issued from her mouth, startling both Molly and Hermione. The young woman's arm swept out, knocking magazines flying before she pushed herself away from the table. She pushed past them in the doorway, knocking them aside as she ran for the stairs. Had there been tears on her face?

Molly took in the mess with a sigh before she moved forward to begin cleaning. Hermione glanced behind her to the stairs Ginny had rushed up.

"Go on, dear, I've got this here," Molly said. "Just don't take anything she says too seriously," she continued with a sad smile. Her daughter had been depressed and moody ever since the marriage. She'd taken to avoiding family dinners in case the trio showed up. It was more than time for it all to come to a head.

Hermione left Molly to her cleaning and ascended the stairs, skipping lightly over the creaky steps. Making her way down the darkened hall, she saw that Ginny's door was closed. Hermione rapped softly on the door, listening intently for any sound.

"Go 'way," a muffled voice from inside the room mumbled.

"Ginny, this has gone on long enough. I'm coming in," Hermione said sternly as she jiggled the door handle. Finding it locked she reached for her wand. A swish and flick and a muttered "Alohomora" later had the door swinging open.

The room was dark with the curtains completely closed, but there was enough midday light shining through that Hermione was able to see Ginny laid out on her stomach upon the bed, head buried in the pillow. Hermione stepped up to the bed, kneeling down next to it so that her head was level with the spot Ginny was lying on.

"Ginny," Hermione called softly.

"You've already married him. Why do you need to rub my face in it with a wedding ceremony?" Ginny asked, sniffling around the words.

Hermione felt anger stir in her belly. "This isn't about you, Ginevra Weasley," Hermione said sternly. She wasn't cold about it, but it was close.

Ginny raised her face from the pillow to glare at Hermione with puffy eyes. "He would have been mine." There was no need for either to specify which he they were talking about. "The contract said he had to marry me and he would have. We'd have been happy. I know we would have been." Her tone, though, said she was trying to convince herself of this fact more than Hermione. "I love him and you stole him! If you had just left things alone, we'd be married and this would be our wedding ceremony."

Hermione wasn't exactly sure what to say to that. One part of her understood that Ginny was hurt, but most of her was just downright angry. "First off, Harry's not an object that you can own. And second? This wasn't your choice. We've all tiptoed around your feelings for months hoping that you would move on, but I think it's time for some hard truths. Harry didn't want to marry you. He searched day and night for some way out of the contract. A way that wouldn't hurt your family, but we couldn't find any. Yes, he would have married you if I hadn't found that old law, but he never would have been happy with you. He'd have never been yours!" Hermione was panting by the end of her rant and Ginny was staring at her as if she'd never seen her before.

"You're telling the truth, aren't you? You're not trying to justify what you did, you're just telling the truth." New tears welled in Ginny's eyes, sliding down her cheeks and dripping from her face. Hermione pulled the girl into a hug as she sobbed.

"I'm sorry, Ginny," Hermione murmured helplessly.

Ginny sniffled, trying to breathe through a tear stuffy nose. "It's not your fault," Ginny managed to get out through oddly hitching breaths. "I thought it was but it's not." She pulled away from Hermione's shoulder, wiping embarrassedly at the tear tracks on her cheeks.

Hermione glanced away, knowing the embarrassment that came with crying in front of someone. "I'm going to head down and help Molly fix up some tea and get the biscuits set out."

"Yeah, that's—that's a good idea. I'm just gonna stop off in the bathroom and I'll be down," Ginny said, hurrying Hermione from the room.

Hermione made her way slowly back down the stairs and into the kitchen to find that the tea was already steaming in battered teacups and the biscuits Hermione loved so much were settled onto a plate in the middle of the table.

"Everything all right?" Molly asked worriedly. She didn't like her daughter and the woman she thought of as a second daughter fighting.

"Everything's going to be fine now, Molly," Hermione said with a relieved smile. "Maybe not forgiven and certainly not forgotten, but I think she gets it now."

The Ginny that came down the stairs wore a happy face, though her eyes were still red and puffy and they still held a hint of wariness—like the young woman expected them to turn her out for the way she had acted.

"Drink your tea, Ginny, dear," Molly directed.

Ginny flashed her mother a grateful smile and Hermione saw the old Ginny shine through. It was with this that Hermione knew the redhead was going to be okay. They'd move on from this but more importantly, Ginny would move on from this.

The next half hour was tentative as the three women sat drinking their tea and nibbling on biscuits. Molly, of course, asked about the boys, enthused by Hermione's answer of what they were both doing today, but other than that it was half started conversations and stilted silences.

At least until Ginny slammed her teacup down. "Oh for the love of Merlin," Ginny huffed in exasperation. She reached down the table for the bridal magazines, sliding the stack in front of her. "Are you going with wizarding robes or a Muggle dress?"

Hermione started in her seat, wide eyes searching Ginny's own. There was sadness there still, but it was overshadowed by a need to help, to be the true friend Hermione knew Ginny could be. Tears filled Hermione's eyes as she gave a wide smile. "I don't know. I've never really thought about it. What's the difference between the wedding robes and wedding dresses?" Hermione asked.

She thought back to fourth year, to the Yule Ball. The men's robes had been old fashioned, even the newer styles, and oddly different from anything Muggle, but the female robes hadn't been that different from a Muggle dress. Though maybe female robes had been updated more often than anything else in the wizarding world. The teacher's robes had looked like just that—dress robes. Each culture had their own style of course; thoughts of how Cho Chang and the Patil twins had been dressed rose in Hermione's mind. Wizards also had vaguely different cuts and fabrics. Still, could wedding attire really be that different?

Ginny searched through the pile, pulling out a brightly colored magazine from somewhere near the center. Hermione reached out; taking the magazine, she pulled it close to her face. The first thing she noticed was that the woman on the cover reminded her of Narcissa Malfoy. She was stern and almost cold. The woman neither smiled nor frowned and as Hermione watched, she turned slowly to show the back of the dress.

The dress itself was reminiscent of a Muggle evening gown more than the usual wedding style she was used to. It was a brilliant red, floor-length gown that gathered at the waist. The top cupped her breasts and the fabric crisscrossed at the chest, long bits of fabric being thrown over either shoulder. They trailed down the woman's back and dragged along the floor. It was a lovely dress, but not something Hermione could see wearing to her own wedding.

Still, Hermione opened the magazine, feeling obligated to not judge by the dress on the cover. She skimmed through the magazine. There were many brightly colored gowns that Hermione shook her head at, but there were also some real gems.

The page she had stopped on had two such dresses. The first was a white V-neck that gathered to one side of the waist. The skirt part reminded Hermione of a salsa dancer's dress—the ones with layered ruffles. The ruffles alternated between the white of the dress and a shimmering silver. The other was a gorgeous golden ivory that sparkled from the pages of the magazine. The top was lace shot through with threads of shimmering gold. The sleeves were thin straps that connected to the almost heart of the top. The waist was gathered with a large satin bow that was pulled to one side. Lacy ruffles began at the hips and trailed down the dress to the floor. They were both beautiful dresses and yet, they didn't grab at her heart and hold on. None of the wizarding robes did that.

"Muggle, definitely Muggle. They're lovely robes but—," Hermione wasn't sure how to continue.

"They don't make you want to cry over them," Ginny said.

"What?" Hermione asked, looking up from the magazine with a confused frown.

"Mum always said the perfect man shouldn't make you cry, but the perfect dress always should, right Mum?" Ginny explained.

Molly smiled. She'd told Ginny that years ago. She hadn't known the girl had remembered it. "That's right, dear. You know you've found the right dress when you get a trifle misty eyed. It's always the opposite when you've found the right man. In all the time we were dating, not once did Arthur make me cry, but I bawled like a baby when I tried on my wedding dress."

Oh, well that made ... some sense. Hermione didn't think she'd cry over her dress, she was much too level-headed for that, but she guessed some girls might. It was a very emotional occasion, after all. That emotion would have to go somewhere.

"Here," Ginny said, sliding over the Muggle bridal magazines that she had spent the last few minutes separating. "I guess we'll need to schedule a few outings for dress shopping. Mum and I can take you, give you our opinions. It would be so much easier if you'd gone with the wizarding robes, though," Ginny commented wistfully.

"Why? What difference would that make?" Hermione asked.

"You've never mail ordered clothes, have you?" Ginny asked rhetorically as she grabbed one of the wizarding magazines. She opened the magazine to a random page. "Here, watch this." Ginny pulled her wand from her pocket and tapped it lightly against a box beside one of the robes. Ginny's form shimmered, her clothes fading away to be replaced by an exact copy of the dress. Ginny gave a twirl, the dress swirling with her movements.

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed. She'd never seen anything like it and that was saying something. "How?" Hermione asked, reaching out to touch the dress. Her fingers hit cloth, but it wasn't the cloth of the dress, it was the jeans Ginny had been wearing a moment ago.

"It's not really there. It's just a type of glamour held in the pages. You'll be able to see how the robe looks once it's on, how it moves on your body type, but it won't tell you how it will feel once it's on. You'll need to go to the shops for that, but at least you won't have to spend hours and hours trying on robes to find the right one. You'll have an idea of what you like before you go, so you can just try those on. You'd likely go home with a robe that day unless you order something special," Ginny explained.

"What could be so special that it would take longer?" Hermione asked. There were color changing charms and charms for resizing things. What would need longer in the wizarding world?

"Well, dress robes are special. They cost loads of money, so people want what they pay for. Years ago, they used coloring charms, but Lords started complaining that their robes were showing fading and wear too quickly for the money they were paying. First, someone had the idea of using strengthening charms ... but those don't work too well on clothes." Ginny wrinkled her nose.

There was always a Muggle-born at Hogwarts who had the bright idea of trying them out. The last one's robes had hardened while the poor girl was sitting down. Madam Pomfrey had had to cut her out of them after the girl had been carried to the Hospital Wing. It hadn't been pretty.

"When that didn't work out too well, they decided to do it the old fashioned way. The cloth was dyed by hand and then sewn with a charmed needle and thread. The strengthening charm was placed on the thread instead of the fabric and it held up very well. Once fashion evolved, a new version of the strengthening charm was invented to prevent major rips and tears. Suddenly, dress robes became worth the extra money."

Hermione was amazed. She hadn't known any of that. "You know a lot about fashion, don't you?"

Ginny shrugged self-consciously. "It's just something I enjoy. Fashion in the wizarding world doesn't change much, but they're always coming up with new ways of making the process easier and longer lasting."

"There's something else," Molly said, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"I was going to tell you, honest. That's why I came," Ginny rushed to explain. "Madam Malkin is looking for a shop assistant and she agreed to take me on."

"Oh, Ginny. That's wonderful!" Molly beamed, sweeping her daughter into a bone-crushing embrace.

"Congratulations, Ginny," Hermione enthused.

Ginny pulled back from her mother's hug, not meeting their eyes. "There's more."

Molly tensed, eyes narrowing on her daughter once more. "Go on," Molly said sternly as her foot tapped impatiently.

"I've been helping her stock up for the Hogwarts rush, but she needs me full time," Ginny rushed seeing her mother open her mouth. "I'm of age and I only have a few months left. I can study in my free time and take my N.E.W.T.s early ... or even late. Once I get my first payment I can even get a tutor if I have to," Ginny pleaded.

She needed her mother's permission. She may have been of age in the wizarding world, but she couldn't sign herself out of school. The twins had dropped out, but they had had to fight their mother tooth and nail. Molly Weasley was like a dragon when she was angry, but the twins were by far more stubborn—and tricky. They had just refused to go back and for every nagging their mother gave them, they played an even more elaborate prank until Molly had nothing to do but sign their removal papers.

"Ginny," Molly asked, "you can't work during the summer? Wait until you're out of school? The rush for Hogwarts robes won't be for another seven months."

"Please, Mum," Ginny begged. "Things need to be ordered, made, and stocked. It takes months to have it all ready but more importantly, this could be my in. Madam saw some of my sketches and she likes them. She's agreed that if I can have some samples made up by the time Hogwarts starts, she'll sell them in the shop. Do you know how rare that is? And if they're well received, she'll let me make more and I'll get a portion of the profits for each one that sells.

"I've talked to the twins already and they said it's a good deal for a starter. If my designs sell well enough, I can ask for a raise. Do you know what I could do with that money? I'll tell you what I could do with that money! I could take trips at first, sketch in foreign elements. I could open my own shop and then expand as needed. My designs are good, no, they're great, and I could make it. I could make it big, Mum," Ginny said passionately. She was almost in tears at the thought of Molly saying no. This was her big chance, and if her mum didn't understand then Ginny didn't know what she'd do. "Please," she begged once more, voice cracking at the silence.

"You'll keep up with your schoolwork?" Molly asked, overriding Ginny's cheers as she continued. "Don't celebrate too soon. You're not dropping out of school. Those exams are important and you'll be ready for them."

"But Mum!" Ginny cried.

"I'll be working something out with Headmistress McGonagall, and I'll be checking with her to make sure you're keeping up with it. You do this and they'll be no slacking off," Molly warned.

Ginny was beaming by the end, head shaking so fast and sharply that Hermione was worried she might shake her head right off. "Of course not. I'll keep up with both work and school. I promise."

Molly hummed in slight disbelief. She'd believe that when she saw it. "If you don't follow through on that promise I'll ship you right back to Hogwarts fulltime and you'll pass all of your exams or you'll be there another year."

"I'd love to see some of your designs, Ginny," Hermione said with a smile. She was proud of her friend and happy that she had a goal to focus on. This might never have happened if Hermione hadn't married Harry, if Ginny was still hung up on marrying or was already married to the 'Chosen One'. It was a sad thought that Ginny might never have pursued her dreams because of Harry.

"I have some of my sketches on me. I was going to use them as part of my argument if I had to." Ginny grinned as she ran from the room. She was back a few moments later with a sketchbook in hand. She placed the book reverently on the table, flipping through the pages before she turned the book around for Hermione to see.

The piece looking back at her wasn't what Hermione was expecting. She'd been expecting everyday robes or a dress, maybe a mix of wizarding and Muggle wear, but what stared up at her was a dress robe. It was almost a Muggle coat but had enough wizarding flair to make it something different and eye catching. Looking at it, Hermione could almost say it was wedding wear. The drawing itself looked old, like it had been drawn months, if not years ago. Was it something Ginny had hoped to wear one day at her own wedding?

There was a white, floor-length gown under the 'coat'. She couldn't see the details of the dress but it looked unadorned, like the main focus was supposed to be the coat. The coat was also floor-length and had only one or two clasps at the bust to hold it together so that it flared out around the woman's figure. It opened lightly into a Muggle style train, but it wasn't overdone like some of the dresses Hermione had seen.

There was white fur at the collar and sleeves, while the waist was adorned in silver and diamonds like a belt. "It's beautiful, Ginny," Hermione said. It wasn't something Hermione would wear to her own wedding, but she could see it on someone like Malfoy's mother or some of the other purebloods. The robe made Hermione think of cold winters and remote expressions. A feel of untouchable beauty. And yet, she could see it on Ginny. It would look magnificent with her flame-red hair.

Ginny was beaming when Hermione looked back up. She looked like a proud mother whose child had just gotten into an ivy-league college ... or Hogwarts after having been told the child was a Squib. "Have you thought at all about designs for the dress or colors for the wedding?"

"Colors?" Hermione asked, eyes taking on the look of a deer caught in headlights.

"Well, yeah, you have to have colors. What color will the flowers be or the invitations? What about the bridesmaids' dresses?" Ginny fired off the questions faster than Hermione's head could even pause to think about them. She must have looked as lost as she felt because Ginny paused to smile gently at her. "What's your favorite color, Hermione?"

"Well, I've never had just one color that I would say is my favorite but ... I like blue."

"That's good. We can use that. Do you think you want blue flowers or maybe dresses for the bridesmaids?" Ginny coaxed.

"I …" Hermione paused to think, imagining a blue dress on Ginny, because she knew Ginny would be her Maid of Honor. There was just no one else Hermione would ever want. "I don't think I want blue anything."

Ginny dropped her head into her hands with a groan and a half laugh. "Okay, let's try that again. What color can you see your bridesmaids wearing?"

"Brown," Hermione stated slowly.

"Brown?" Ginny asked, unsure she had heard right.

"What? Don't you think brown could work? Is it not allowed?" Hermione asked worriedly, a bit frantic.

"No! I think brown would work perfectly—as long as we get the right shade. Have you decided who's going to be in the wedding? We'll need to know before we can decide the perfect shade or even the style and cut of the dresses."

"I ... I don't want bridesmaids," Hermione said slowly. "I just want a Maid of Honor. I'm not sure what Harry and Ron want, though."

There was a tightness around Ginny's eyes when she answered, but she hid it masterfully. "I'm sure we can work something out. Maybe you can each choose someone to stand with you or you could all agree on just one person. Still, who were you thinking of? We can at least get that sorted out."

Hermione hesitated a moment, unsure if she should ask or just assume. With thoughts of the last few months of near silence in her mind, she settled on asking. "Do—will you be my Maid of Honor, Ginny?"

"You—you really want me? After how nasty I've been?" Ginny's face fell as she asked.

"Of course, I do!" Hermione exclaimed, hand reaching out to grasp Ginny's in comfort. "You're the only person I'd want up there with me. Will you do it?"

"Of course I will, and I'll look amazing in brown," Ginny joked before she shook off the slight sadness. Things were going to be okay between them. This just proved it. She just needed to let go of her dreams and live in the moment. Her life was headed in a direction that it never could have and she was beyond ecstatic. Ginny forced her mind to the present and got their conversation back on track. "So, brown? Most weddings have two colors. Any idea of a second?"

"I, um, what goes best with brown?" Hermione asked, mind searching for various colors and mentally holding them together.

"Any color you could dream of. It may not all look the best, but I'm sure someone has used it. But those people didn't have me," Ginny boasted proudly. "You pick a color and I'll make it work," she promised.

"Well, there's always white, but it seems so basic. I like blue, but I'm not sure I want blue and brown. What about off-white, cream, or even gold?"

Ginny narrowed her eyes in thought. She could make this work. "We can use various shades of brown and go with a cream color. It can be darkened to an almost gold color in places and lightened to off-white in others. Leave it up to me. I'm the Maid of Honor, right? And that's just another name for wedding coordinator, isn't it?"

Hermione nodded slowly. She trusted Ginny, but this whole wedding thing was so overwhelming and Hermione could admit she was something of a control freak.

Ginny gathered up the bridal magazines and pulled Hermione into the living room. She pushed the girl onto the couch and grabbed a quill and parchment. "Right, we need a guest list before anything else can be done. Who will you invite?"

The next three hours were spent going over guests, suggesting and rejecting various people. Finally, after much argument, the guests were agreed upon. Hermione knew she'd have to run the list by Ron and Harry, but it was a good start.

Molly served them dinner, talking all the while of how she would have the backyard transformed by the time their anniversary came around. The woman had also volunteered to be in charge of both food and the wedding cake. Hermione had been a bit hesitant on the last until she learned that it wasn't something that was new to Molly. Before the twins, Molly had catered many a wedding and decorated more cakes than she could count.

That left only wedding dress selection and veto rights for Hermione to worry about. Ginny had promised to venture out into the Muggle world within the next few days and make appointments to try on dresses.

It was going to be a busy six months. Hermione had come into this thinking that was way too much time and now she felt like she was floundering, wondering how they were going to possibly get everything done in time. Invitations, by pureblood standards, had to be sent out within the next few weeks. Hermione had no idea what kind of invitations she wanted, let alone how long it would take for them to be printed up.

Late that night, or early the next morning depending on how you looked at it, after Ginny was satisfied they had made a good start, Hermione was sent through the Floo, arms full of magazines and orders to talk to the boys about the guest list and invitations.

Coming through the Floo, Hermione was met by an almost dark house. There was a single candle casting flickering shadows through the living room. It was enough light for Hermione to safely make her way through the living room and up the stairs to the main bedroom.

The door was cracked just enough for Hermione to see that another candle had been lit within the room. She pushed the door open gently, the hinges making no noise, to find that the boys were indeed home but deeply asleep ... or so she thought.

Hermione made her way into the room, stripping off the jeans and top she was wearing. Her fingers worked the snaps of the wrist sheath that held her wand, laying it on the dresser as she pulled out an overlarge nightshirt. She reached behind herself to unhook the clasp of her bra, letting it slide down her shoulders and slip from the arms. She stretched lightly, the hours of sitting still catching up to her, before she slid the shirt over her head.

Turning around, Hermione sidled up to the bed to find green eyes shining golden in the candlelight. Harry wasn't as asleep as she had thought. She watched as he slid the covers down, holding out a hand to beckon her forward. Hermione crawled up the bed and under the covers, dropping a kiss to Harry's lips. His eyes drooped sleepily as he kissed her back. Pulling up the covers as his arms wrapped around her, Hermione snuggled into the warmth their bodies had created.

Sleep tugged them both under, never realizing that as they slept their bodies moved closer, creating an unrecognizable heap on the bed.

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Waking up wasn't as pleasant as going to sleep, was Hermione's first thought. In the night, she had turned away from Harry. Her left arm was tucked under Ron's head and she couldn't feel her fingers. They were numb and useless, dead weight. Her right leg wasn't much better. Harry was curled around her, thigh wrapped around her waist. The weight had cut off the circulation so that she was numb from thigh down on her right side.

Hermione winced as Ron shifted, blood rushing through her arm to settle in her fingers. She gritted her teeth against the burn and tingling, trying to hold very still as feeling returned. Her hand wasn't cooperating though, twitching with the renewed blood flow, causing more tingling which in turn caused more twitching. She pulled her arm from under Ron's head, massaging the flesh as the feeling returned. Tensing, she pulled her leg from under Harry, slipping quickly to the end of the bed before the tingling started.

Standing at the end of the bed, she flexed her right leg. A sound behind her drew her attention back to the bed. In her absence, Ron and Harry had each rolled to take over the warm spot. Hermione grinned at the sight of red and black hair mingling on the pillow as they curled around one another.

Still smiling, Hermione made her way out of the bedroom and down the stairs into the kitchen. Before long, a pot of coffee was brewing on the counter while Hermione settled on one of the stools at the island. The magazines she had brought home from the Burrow were in front of her and she began flipping through them.

Sighing, she turned the last page of one of the Muggle magazines. Nothing had caught her attention in that one. The next was a wizarding magazine and after what she had seen of the wizard designs, she wasn't holding out hope. Dully she flipped the pages, listening to the trickle of coffee.

The pictures on the pages blurred until something caused her to stop. Not an image per se, more a feeling. She turned the page back, scanning over the moving images of pretty girls in pretty dresses. The only one that caught her attention was worn by a slim and lithe woman with chestnut brown hair. The dress she wore was in the exact shade of brown Hermione had been imaging. It was strapless with a pleated bust that trailed smoothly into a cinched waist that had a medium-sized bow situated to the left of where the bellybutton would be. The finishing touch was an A-line skirt that was slim at the waist and gradually became fuller. It was the type of skirt that would swirl around your knees as you walked, create a bell if you spun. It was beautiful and made Hermione wish for Ginny so she could have the young woman try it on. Hermione marked the page and set the magazine to the side.

She stood from the table, grabbing a cup of coffee. Sipping the bitter liquid scalded her tongue, but caused a moan to escape. Coffee was a gift from the Gods. Taking careful mouthfuls, Hermione wandered back to the table. She couldn't bring herself to look through more dresses, so she picked up one of the specialty bridal magazines. It covered everything a wedding needed besides the dresses and, according to Ginny, it should have a section for wedding invitations.

Turning the pages quickly didn't help in locating that section. Hermione turned to the front of the magazine, practically the size of a book, to find the contents page. Invitations were on page 92. Hermione flipped to the correct page to find a fully customizable page. She could choose from a large selection of colors, themes, and prices. She took a moment to look through the choices before she tapped her wand gently against the boxes labeled brown and cream. The empty spots on the page filled in, as if someone had taken a brush to them and showed her invitations of all sizes and styles in various shades of brown and cream. Hermione grabbed the quill lying nearby, Summoned a wad of parchment, and began the task of looking through the list of invitations, jotting down names or numbers of the ones that caught her eye.

Hermione had just narrowed her list down to the two she liked the most when Ron and Harry wandered into the room still wiping the sleep from their eyes. Harry's hair was more messy than usual, but Ron's caused her to smile. It stuck up in clumps that pointed in all different directions. A yawn stretched his mouth wide as he pulled his body taut. An old white shirt stretched tightly across his broad chest. Her eyes roamed over the displayed muscles.

"What are you doing?" Harry's sleepy voice startled her, snapping her gaze to him. His eyes dropped as he rotated his neck, scratching lightly at his bare stomach.

"Wedding planning," Hermione answered. "According to your mum, Ron, invitations have to go out very soon in order to be polite and not cause a faux pas. Ginny helped me get the guest list together yesterday if you two want to look through that. Approve or veto, argue amongst yourselves. I've been working on finding the invitations and I think I've narrowed the list down to two. What do you think?" Hermione asked quickly, her speech taking on shades of her younger years.

Ron frowned, dumbfounded. "You've talked to Ginny?"

"I just said that, didn't I? She was at your mum's when I visited yesterday."

"You two didn't get into a fight, did you?" His voice was worried when he asked and she knew it wasn't just her he was worried about. Ginny was the baby of the family, after all, and all her brothers looked out for her as such … even if she was an adult by wizarding standards.

"No fight," she assured. She couldn't help herself. She knew she should let Ginny break the news, but it was all just so exciting. "Oh, Ron, you'll be so proud of her. She says Madam Malkin has agreed to take her on as an apprentice." She gave an abbreviated retelling of their conversation from yesterday. "Did you know she was a designer? Or that she was interested in fashion?"

"Fashion? Ginny?"

"That's great news, Hermione. We're all very proud of Ginny, aren't we, Ron?"

"Right, yeah, 'course," Ron agreed. "Mum knows about this? And she's okay with it?"

"Your mum has put her foot down on schooling and she'll be checking in regularly with Headmistress McGonagall, but as long as Ginny continues to keep her grades up there's not much Molly can really do but agree."

"You said her designs are good?" Harry asked thoughtfully.

"Very good," Hermione confirmed. "What have you got in mind, Harry?"

"Well, I don't know about you two but I know I don't enjoy shopping. Shopping for a wedding will likely be even worse. You think she'd agree to design something for us?" A sly look entered his eyes. "Just imagine the publicity she'd get: to be the designer and creator of the robes worn by Harry Potter and Ron Weasley?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. Only Harry would be able to come up with something like that. "I'm sure if you pitched it to her exactly like that she'd jump at the chance."

A comfortable silence hushed over the room before Harry deigned to break it. "So, what about this guest list and those invitations? Let's see it."

Hermione handed over the guest list, watching intently as Harry scanned over it, wincing slightly in spots, nodding in others.

"Blimey, Hermione, I can't believe you have Fudge down!" Ron swore from where he was looking over Harry's shoulder.

"Well, he should be a part of what he helped create." Hermione smirked sweetly, or as sweet as a smirk could be.

"He's going to hate us even more than he already does after this. I love it." Harry leaned over, brushing a kiss on her lips. "I don't have a problem with anyone on the list being invited. Well, none that I can use to get them kicked out." His attention turned to the list before her, gazing at the crossed out names before finding the two she had circled. His eyes glanced over the magazine page, locating the two she liked. He pointed to one. "I like that one."

Ron moved forward, glancing between the two Harry pointed out for him. He was silent for a moment, leaning forward to examine them closely before he nodded in agreement. It was a nice invitation, simple. Their information would fill the center of the rectangular shape in white while white flower petals fell from the left corner, a few stray petals drifting around the words on each side. "Have you decided on brown then?"

Hermione blushed. "If you two don't mind. I was thinking brown and cream, but Ginny said that we could use various shades of brown as well as cream, gold, and off-white to make it all look more natural. She said she'd take care of it seeing as I made her my Maid of Honor."

They both turned to stare at her before a grin broke over Ron's face. Harry was grinning too and then they were exchanging grins.

Things were looking up. They spent the morning glancing through the bridal magazines, enjoying their time spent together. There was no more awkwardness from their night together and any want for time apart had been all but forgotten. They had fallen back into an easy friendship, and if they exchanged glances that were longer or more heated than those of friendship none of them commented on it.

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The days and months that followed were filled with wedding preparation. Shortly after their morning in the kitchen, Hermione ordered the invitations, as well as RSVP and the matching 'thank you' cards, and with the help of Molly and Ginny, addressed and sent them out.

Two months before the wedding, Hermione still didn't have a dress. She was almost weddinged out. From choosing flowers, bouquets, place settings, and the decorations as well as any number of small, un-thought of things that went into a wedding, Hermione thought she might scream.

Ginny had booked a dress appointment with every available wedding dress shop, big or small. Every weekend for the last four months was spent trying on dresses. She thought she'd never find one. Both her boys had their suits. Ginny had been of the opinion that if Hermione was getting a Muggle wedding dress, the boys couldn't very well wear robes, so she had designed suits for them. The jackets were a lovely shade of brown with a very flattering cut, large brass buttons up the front and tiny buttons on the cuffs of each sleeve. Ginny had used a golden brown fabric that shined in the light for a kerchief tucked into the pocket and a tie that looked reminiscent of a cravat. The vest was an antique color, not cream but not off-white either, with swirls of brown. The undershirt was the same color as the vest, maybe a shade or two lighter and was only seen at the cuffs and throat where it hid the place the cravat looped around the neck.

Was it such a bad thing to want a dress? She wanted her dress, damn it! All the dresses she had tried on were … nice, but none of them was her dress. Each one had something that she could point to and say "no" to. Like the one dress that was cut too low or the one that was see-through, or even the one that looked like a bell made of flowers around her waist. She wanted simple. She wanted elegant. She wanted … the dress that was before her. There, in the sketchbook Ginny had just pushed forward, was her dress. Hermione was speechless.

"Well?" Ginny asked anxiously.

"It's—it's perfect," Hermione whispered, sure that if she spoke too loud the vision would vanish, would shatter into a million pieces and her perfect dress would be lost.

"It will take me until almost the day of the wedding to get it finished, but I asked Madam Malkin about the spells on those bridal magazines. You can try it on, if you want. The illusion won't be perfect, of course. It will be built off of the sketch and not a picture of fabric and flesh. It might not …"

"Ginny. Ginny! I want to try it."

"You really like it? I spent the last month working on it, tweaking the idea with each new dress you tried on and rejected. I took all the pieces you liked and tried to use them."

Hermione could see that. The first thing that stood out was the color. It was very antique and matched the boys' vests perfectly. The bust was v-neck but not too low cut. Lace gave her a nice thick strap and a sleeveless fabric under the lace would cup her breasts. The waist was a silken, shiny fabric that reminded her of the fabric used in the boys' cravats, except the color was more of a true cream than their brown. The skirts fabric looked as though it would make a swishing sound as she walked and it wasn't too tight. It certainly wouldn't show off her every curve as some of the dresses she had tried on would, but it would give her an elegant shape, hint at what was underneath. The skirt wasn't big or bulky but would instead pool around her feet in puddle that would extend around and behind her in a slight train. It was nothing extravagant, nothing her roommates at Hogwarts would have "ooh"ed and "aah"ed over. But it was exactly what Hermione had been silently hoping for.

Ginny cast the spell and a wind washed over Hermione. She could still feel her jeans and shirt, but looking down revealed the dress from the sketchbook. The texture wasn't perfect, matching Ginny's drawing perfectly in that you could see the pencil markings in some spots. Hermione twirled and the skirt swirled around her feet, wrapping around her ankle when she stopped abruptly. She could just imagine the crinkling swish the skirt would make.

Another spell was cast from Ginny's wand and a large mirror was Conjured before her. Looking in the mirror showed that another had been Conjured behind her. She could see the dress she was now wearing from all angles. The top half of her back was left almost bare but for the lace that connected to her shoulder straps. The fabric trailed down her back, taking more room as it came around her body before it finally connected to what was covering her lower back. Buttons, tiny, delicate little things that were covered in fabric trailed down her lower back and disappeared into the small folds of the skirt. It was perfect, even now as nothing more than pencil scratches Hermione adored it.

"Can you really have it made by the wedding?"

Ginny grinned, flashing teeth giving her a vaguely sinister look. "Leave it up to me."

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Nerves infected them all in the days leading up to the wedding. Ron, their brilliant planner, had taken to making up seating charts. No reason for his mum and dad to put up with the Malfoys, who Hermione had insisted on inviting given that Teddy Lupin was Narcissa Malfoy's grandnephew as well as Harry's godson. Ron knew it was only polite to invite them to the biggest event of the season, but he didn't have to like it. Still, his dislike of the situation was no reason to cause a fight because they just sat everyone willy-nilly.

Harry, bless his heart, had taken to helping Mrs. Weasley with food preparation and decorating. Magic was a wonderful thing, Harry knew, but to be able to cook food weeks in advance and have it still be good by the time the wedding rolled around? It was so much easier and far more relaxing than having to make enough food for almost the entire wizarding world of Britain the night before, or Merlin forbid, the day of the wedding.

Hermione had become a general overseer, helping where she could. The boys had left final decisions up to her. There were some days, the ones where Ginny came to her for her opinion, and she couldn't decide or had to make a split second decision that she worried on for hours after, that she hated them. But the light brushes as they met in a hallway or the scorching kisses when they had a moment alone more than made up for it. It was like the first months of being married again. They were still taking things slowly, a bit of tiptoeing around each other from the boys, but Hermione was happy to notice that they never passed up an opportunity to kiss her—even if the other was in the room. She was beginning to think that even if they never looked at each other as more than friends, she would be happy. Everything was working itself out, just as Ron had said it would.

The day of the wedding was a frantic flight from one thing to the next. The entire Weasley clan had been pulled home and put to work. Bill had brought a pregnant Fleur with the promise that she would settle into a chair and kept her feet up. Though once he disappeared out the door to help Charlie set up chairs on either side of the silk aisle runner, the woman had immediately set to work helping Molly roll napkins and sort decorative plates for the reception.

Percy, with the unwanted help of Fred and George, had gone to help Harry and Ron make themselves 'presentable'. Percy had finally deigned to introduce them to his girlfriend, Audrey. She was a lovely woman, who was all smiles, confiding in anyone who would listen that she just loved weddings. She had taken to following Ginny around, who put her excited efforts to help to good use affixing flowers in every shade of brown and cream to every available surface.

Ginny walked the lawn, barking out orders to her brothers, shooting off stinging hexes when they were too slow for her tastes. Under her watchful brown eyes, the lawn was transformed into a sweet smelling garden; bushes that grew large flowers that would never be found in untouched nature encircled the fancy chairs Bill and Charlie had just finished setting up. She immediately put them to work creating the dark wood trellis that would encircle the wedding party. Flowering vines would be made to climb the trellis with hanging ivy that would trail around their heads.

With the garden complete, Ginny scurried back into the house and up the rickety stairs to where Hermione had hidden away. Slipping into the room, she grabbed the long bag hanging on the back of the door and moved to where Hermione was putting the finishing touches on her makeup. Her hair, usually a tangled mass that frizzed more than curled, had been left almost straight and brushed until it shined. The front halves of her hair had been pulled back into a delicate looking knot. It left her face free and beautiful.

Hermione turned to Ginny with a nervous smile, swallowing hard when she the dress bag. "That time already?" Hermione asked breathily.

"The guests will start arriving soon. We've got to get you dressed now if you don't want to be late. Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be." Hermione had not seen the finished dress. She had been measured multiple times, and used as a dummy for pinning the parts of her dress, but the finished product, according to Ginny, had only been finished the day before. She was beyond nervous that she had gained weight or maybe the measurements were off. Maybe Ginny had cut something wrong or forgotten to stitch something properly and the whole thing would fall apart as she made her way down the aisle.

Ginny unzipped the bag slowly, not for anticipation's sake as many would have thought, but because the fabric of the dress was delicate and she didn't want it getting caught in the zipper. There would be no time to fix such an error.

Finally, the dress was revealed and it still took Hermione's breath away. She stood from her seat and moved closer. The fabric had a slight crunch as she touched it and she knew it would do exactly as she had imagined when she walked. "Oh, Ginny, it's perfect!" She sniffled.

"No crying. You'll ruin your makeup. Drop the robe and I'll help you get it on." Ginny hung the dress on the back of the door and began the monumental task of undoing each delicate button. She knew she should have incorporated a zipper somehow, but she hadn't wanted to ruin the lay of the buttons by doing so. Still, she could have used her wand, but again, if something were to go wrong there would be no time to fix it. So she sucked in a deep breath, calming herself, and finished the task.

Ginny turned, the dress held gently in her hands. "Whoa," she exclaimed. "I didn't know you had it in you, Hermione."

Hermione blushed, feeling a breeze tangle around her. Wrapping her arms around herself, she thought of what she was wearing. It was a deep cream-colored bustier that had a plunging back with boning in the sides for extra support. It was fairly plain, since she wasn't sure how closely her dress would fit, but she had managed to find one that had a tiny edging of light cream colored lace that followed the line of her bosom as well as where the 'top' would end, creating the illusion that it was two piece when it was, in fact, only one. Garters attached the 'panty' part to the lacy tops of the thigh high stockings that encased her trim legs.

"Your mother suggested them," Hermione commented drolly, watching in amusement as Ginny gagged.

"Oh, ew!" Ginny shuddered. "I did not need to know that. I just hope you keep that kind of information from your husbands or it won't be much of a wedding night."

Hermione blushed once more at the thought of a wedding night. How was it that she could do the things they had done in their bedroom, or the kitchen for that matter, and yet, still blush at the thought?

Ginny laughed before motioning Hermione forward, holding the dress open low so the bride could step into it. The material crinkled and swished as it was pulled up. The lace was new, but had an old softness to it that wouldn't surely irritate her halfway through the ceremony. Ginny had a slight problem with the buttons. The bustier had added a slight padding, which hadn't been there in the fitting, but it was easily resolved with a bit of tugging and rearranging and they both breathed a sigh of relief as the last button hooked securely.

"Is it everything you hoped?"

"It's better," Hermione gushed, turning to pull the redhead into her arms as she held back tears. She blinked rapidly, remembering Ginny's warning about makeup and guests arriving. "Thank you. Thank you so much, Ginny."

"Hey," Ginny choked, having to hold back her own tears. "You're more than making up for all the work. This is your dress but it's mine too. I made this and everyone is going to see it and they'll know I made it. Do you even realize what you're doing for me?" Ginny knew that her timetable had just been chopped in half. People would look for her, request her. She'd be able to open her own shop in half the time it would have taken to save up enough before. She'd just been unknown little Ginny Weasley, but now she'd be the one who created the wedding attire for the war heroes, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger. No matter who they married, it was the way they would always be known.

"Then I guess we both got our dreams with this dress, didn't we?" Hermione grinned.

The laughter that rang through the room was strained, but it was either laugh or cry and there was no way they were ruining their makeup with tears.

"You look amazing, Hermione," Ginny whispered.

"So do you," Hermione said, taking in what she hadn't noticed before. Ginny had her auburn hair pulled up into a pile of curls on her head. Her pale skin went amazingly well with the rich brown of her Maid of Honor dress.

"I know." The tone was arrogant, but the glimmer in her eyes gave her away. "Still, I think we all know who they came for and it's not me."

Hermione chuckled. "I don't think it's me either, to be honest."

"Harry," they said together, laughter coming again.

There was a knock on the door before Fleur stuck her head in. "Eet ees time."

The nerves returned in full, but with a deep breath Hermione pulled herself together and exited the room. The walk down the hall seemed longer than usual, the steps made more noise under their feet. Molly was waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs, a handkerchief twisted in her hands. "Oh," she sobbed, dabbing at her eyes.

Hermione moved forward, pulling the woman gently into her arms. Molly had become the mother her own had quit being after the war and she hated seeing the woman cry, even if they were happy tears. It was then that she remembered something she had wanted to ask. "Where's Arthur, Molly?"

Molly pulled back, tears still on her cheeks, but her eyes were clear. "Whatever for?"

"There's something I wanted to ask him," Hermione said.

Molly gazed at her, eyes searching before she nodded. "I'll, I'll just go get him." She hurried off to find her husband.

Hermione turned to the two women behind her. "Why don't you two go find your places? You were a big help this morning, Fleur, but you shouldn't be on your feet so much."

Fleur gave a quiet sigh of relief, letting them know that her feet really did hurt, before she dipped a slight curtsy and took her leave.

"And me? What excuse are you going to give me to get me out of the way?"

"No excuse needed for you. I want you to make some last minute checks. Make sure everyone is in the correct seats. I don't want anyone mis-seated. Merlin forbid, if a fight started in the middle of the ceremony."

Ginny nodded, eyes wide. "It's something the twins would do—put someone in the wrong seat and wait for the chaos." She hurried off, grabbing the seating charts on the way out.

Hermione wasn't alone for long. A beaming Arthur came through the door Ginny had exited and swept her into a hug. "You look radiant, my dear."

"Thank you, Arthur." She squeezed tightly before pulling back.

"Molly said there was something you wanted before the wedding starts?" Arthur tilted his head to the side like a curious puppy.

"Yes, I, um, well, I was wondering if you wouldn't mind walking me down the aisle?" Hermione rushed out, teeth biting deeply into her bottom lip before she remembered her lipstick.

Arthur's eyes glittered as he smiled. "I would be honored." He turned to the side, holding out his crooked arm. Hermione slipped her own through it, fingers curling smoothly around the bunched fabric of his suit, and let him lead her to the door.

Music was already playing as they stood silhouetted in the doorway. The large crowd all turned around in their seats to catch a glimpse of her. Those in the back let out gasps at the sight of them and she wasn't sure if it was because of the beautiful dress she wore or because it was Arthur, her husband's father, that was leading her down the silken aisle and not her own.

Either way, Hermione put on a brave face, pushing her chin up as she walked. Her eyes sought out the boys at the end of the aisle and then nothing else mattered. Not the fragrant flowers that decorated every available space of the backyard. Not the wide eyes of their guests. All that mattered were the stunned and awed eyes, blue and green, that followed her as she walked. She felt like the most beautiful woman in the world and by the looks they were giving her, they thought so too.

The ceremony was very simple since they were already married. It was more of a commitment ceremony than anything, but the guests seemed to enjoy it. Hermione was sad, much later, when she realized she had barely heard a word of what the officiator had to say.

The joy that had swelled in her as she stood in a tight triangle before Ron, who held her left hand, and Harry, who held her right, was almost more than she could bear.

The officiator had taken the podium just behind where they stood. Bill, Charlie, and Percy stood to the podium's right, just behind Ron and Harry, while Fred, George, and Ginny stood just behind Hermione, to the podium's left. It had been decided, since neither Harry or Ron could decide who they wished to stand with them that each of the Weasley children would take part. It had been Ginny's idea, of course, to fan them out like so.

Before any of them knew it, they had promised to be true to one another always, to care for their spouses through good times as well as bad, and to meet each challenge as a united force.

Cheers rang through the evening air as Harry pushed Ron forward with a laugh, sending him tumbling into Hermione, who understood and swept the man into a kiss. She threw herself as Harry, who twirled her through the air, lips settling over hers as the crowd roared louder.

They stood, cheers dying down, enjoying the feeling of being together. Hermione ended up between them, arms wrapped around Harry waist, leaning into him as Ron leaned into her, arm looped gently around her neck as his other hand clasped Harry's shoulder.

They watched quietly as Ginny hurried down into the crowd, ushering them to one side where a drink table had magically, or maybe not so magically, sprung up. There was chaos as the Weasleys worked to transform the ceremony setup to the reception setup. Round and long tables were brought out from somewhere, each covered with cream cloths. The long tables had brown runners going the length of them while the round tables had draped brown cloths. Ginny had really outdone herself in preparation. The round tables had cream-colored napkins and the long tables had brown napkins so as not to overwhelm one table with too much of either color. She had thought of everything it seemed.

The main attraction, though, the thing that drew their attention from the chaos was Molly Weasley, wand pointed in the air as she floated a small square table through the crowds. The table was swathed in brown cloth, pulled and rucked up around a beautiful cake. The cake was like nothing Hermione had ever seen before. Four flat, round cakes, each progressively smaller than the last were piled artfully atop one another. The cakes were a smooth cream, not too dark, and around the base of each cake was a stripe of brown and a string of tiny pearls. Trailing from the top layer to the base was a line of delicate looking flowers, each one different than the last. The flowers were brushed tan and cream, some of the tips a rich golden brown color with tiny brown leaves. There were long, and yet so very thin, brown rods that shot from some of the flowers and curled over themselves. Why had she felt any doubt at all in letting Molly bake and decorate the cake?

The food that was brought out once everyone was seated was delicious. There were so many selections to choose from, some she was sure were influenced by Fleur. Hermione helped herself to a slice of roast beef with mashed potatoes. Drizzling a tiny amount of gravy over her selection, she placed her napkin in her lap, and even knowing it could be considered rude, leaned far over her plate as she ate as delicately as she could. She had no wish to ruin her dress and would have gone without the food if she hadn't been so very hungry.

The cake was cut once everyone was finished eating. Hermione cringed as the knife sliced through it. It was almost too pretty to ruin. The cake was light yellow sponge with a rich chocolate filling.

Mrs. Weasley, following tradition, had taken the top layer of the cake off and had placed it under preservation charms. It would be saved for either a later anniversary or for a child's birthday. She had also pointed out a special surprise for Hermione in the second smallest layer, placing a small slice on Hermione's plate. The first taste had her going back for more. It was the same yellow sponge with chocolate filling, but Molly had added a hint of coffee to the chocolate.

Harry and Ron shared a fond and exasperated grin over Hermione's head where it was bowed over her plate.

Music filled the air shortly after the cake was finished and eyes turned to where Ron, Harry, and Hermione were seated. Expectation shone brightly from their eyes. Near silent groans were heard from either side of Hermione. It was like the Yule Ball all over again for Harry. Why was the first dance a requirement? He just hoped he didn't step on Hermione's toes or do anything else embarrassing.

Hermione stood regally from her seat, arching an eyebrow at the pouting boys. They had slid deeper into their seats in hopes that if they slid deep enough they might disappear all together. "Are you coming or am I dancing with myself?" She wrapped her arms around her waist and swayed to the music with a smirk.

"Would you?" Ron asked hopefully, earning himself a glare. He slumped with a huff before standing. "Oh, all right. Come on, mate. It will only hurt worse later if you refuse now."

Harry caught the fierce look in Hermione's eyes before he practically jumped from his seat. "Right, dancing, I love dancing." He grabbed Hermione's hand and began pulling her quickly through the tables to the open area that had been set up as a dance floor. He spun her out onto it, Ron being dragged along by the death grip she had on his hand. "Let's dance."

Somehow, they ended up crushed together, laughing as they swayed to the music. As it rose into a faster paced song, other couples converged around them.

"We've been polite enough, right? We've gotten married, cut the cake, danced a bit. Is it time to go home?" Ron asked.

Hermione's eyes sought Ginny, raising an eyebrow with a nudge of her head, hoping the young woman got her plea. Ginny held up a finger before she began moving through the crowd.

"Oh, no," Hermione whispered, seeing the mischief glimmering in Ginny's eyes as she raised her wand to her throat. When she spoke, her voice boomed through the air.

"Well, it seems that the bride and grooms are eager to return to their home for the night so things will be sped up a bit so we can get them out of here quickly." There was a smattering of tittering laughter as the three of them ducked their heads, cheeks stained red. "I'll ask that you clear the dance floor for the bouquet toss. Hermione, can you manage to tear yourself away from the boys for a few moments? Grace us with your presence?"

"She's dead. I'm sorry, Ron but you're going to be sisterless come morning," Hermione groaned, unable to stop her embarrassment.

"That's all right. I never liked her anyway." They both knew that was a lie, but Ron's cheeks clashed brightly with his hair.

"Be back soon." Hermione slipped from their embrace and walked to where Ginny had stationed herself.

"Right. I don't think we'll limit this to just the females, given that there are two grooms." The laughter started up again. At least if Ginny's plans for opening a shop ever fell through, Hermione knew what she could fall back on. "Single or unmarried females, please make your way to the dance floor. Any single men out there not mind catching a bouquet?" A few of the men were pushed onto the floor by laughing friends. Ginny handed over her bouquet of brown and cream flowers, stems tied together with trailing brown ribbons. "Everyone ready?" A cheer went through the crowd as Hermione turned her back to them.

Tossing the flowers over her head, she turned quickly to watch. The flowers tumbled through the air and into the crowd on the dance floor. There was a moment of pushing and shoving before Audrey came up with the bouquet. Her eyes were wide as she stared down at the flowers before they looked up to meet a blushing Percy's.

Catcalls went through the Weasley boys as they pushed and jostled Percy before shoving him forward. He moved forward hesitantly, but upon seeing the pleased smile on Audrey's face he swept her up into his arms with a kiss.

"Perfect time," Ron commented.

"Won't get much better," Harry agreed with a nod.

They grabbed Hermione's hands and ducked past a shouting Ginny. They made it out into the street with none the wiser to their escape. They were sure to hear it from Molly the next day, but for now they were free. They laughed as they ran, heading for the edge of the wards. Making it, they spun as one and Disapparated.

BREAK BREAK BREAK BREAK BREAK

Appearing in their tiny village, in a hidden spot behind their home, Hermione had no time to catch her bearings. Ron had tipped her off balance, catching her around the shoulders as Harry hoisted her feet.

Hermione squealed, wriggling in their grip, but the thought of falling stopped her from wiggling too much. "Put me down! Ron! Harry!" Neither appeared to hear her as they carted her off and up the steps to their home.

"The bride must always be carried over the threshold, Hermione. Be a dear and hold still!" Ron yelled as she wiggled again, causing him to almost lose his grip.

"You put me down, Ronald Weasley," Hermione threatened.

"If I put you down, you're only going to conk your head, ain't ya?"

Finally, they bumbled their way through the back door, settling her down in the kitchen. Her hands flew, slapping at arms and chests as she growled. "Don't you ever do that again."

"Ow, ow, ow! Would you quit it? If you want to blame anyone, blame Mum!" Ron shouted. "She made us promise to follow tradition."

"I don't think she meant for you both to cart me through the door like a sack of potatoes."

"Well, she never specified which one of us was supposed to carry you so we might, might, have taken it upon ourselves to improvise," Harry said, not meeting her eyes.

Why did she have to go and marry the son of a Marauder and the brother of Fred and George? Hermione sighed. It's not like she could say she didn't know what she was getting into, because she had. She loved the cheeky buggers. Going against the part of her that called out for more scolding, she leant forward to brush a kiss across each of their lips before turning away. Stretching, she threw a coy look over her shoulder and left the room.

She made her way quietly through the living room and up the stairs to their bedroom. It was only as she reached to remove her dress that she remembered the trouble Ginny had gone through to get her buttoned into the dress. "Bugger."

"Is that our dear Hermione swearing in there?"

"You must have misheard because our Hermione never swears."

Her two comics stood in the doorway, grinning at her. "Shut up and help me out of this dress."

The smirks they exchanged were downright frightening, unholy things that they were. "Gladly." They moved forward as one, their steps predatory, like a cat stalking a mouse, and she had the uncomfortable feeling that she had become the mouse. That feeling was ruined when they realized there was no zipper and when they reached for their wands, Hermione just barely stopped from shouting. Seeing her terror they put them back and began struggling with each of the tiny buttons.

The fabric slipped from her body with a quiet sigh, revealing what she was wearing underneath to their lust-filled eyes. A finger, she wasn't sure whose, reached around her side to slide reverently over the boning that created a harsh inward slope of her sides, accentuating the natural curve of her body. Another hand trailed up her stocking covered leg, playing lightly with the lace covering her toned thigh.

"Bloody hell," Ron panted, his voice sounding strangled.

There was a moment of dizziness as she was spun around quickly, but that was forgotten in the passion that followed. Stocking clad legs wrapped tightly around Ron's waist as he ate at her mouth. Hermione whimpered as rough fabric scratched sensuously at the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. Ron thrust against her at the sound, drawing more before he pulled back, panting. His forehead rested lightly against hers and she could see that his eyes were closed.

"Too fast?" Hermione asked worriedly. This would be the first time they had done anything this sexual between the three of them since the awkward situation in the kitchen. She worried they might have pushed too fast. Ron had asked for time, after all.

Ron shook his head, settling her to sit on the bed before he moved back. He forced calm to flow through his body. It was the same feeling he got before a big Quidditch game. It was excitement mixed with nervousness and it always left him feeling like he was being torn apart, but he had learned to deal with it much better than his younger self had.

"It's okay, Ron. We don't have to do this," Harry said as he took a seat beside Hermione. "If you're not comfortable we'll think of something else, we'll wait."

"It's not that," Ron said haltingly. He moved closer, kneeling down before the bed to look up at them earnestly from his place on the floor. He took a deep breath and shored up his Gryffindor courage. "I want to give this a try. Whatever this is, I'm in."

"Ron …" Hermione trailed off.

"Mate." But Harry got no further before a pair of lips, thinner than Hermione's he noticed but somehow softer, settled over his.

It wasn't perfect. Nowhere near perfect. Their teeth clicked and pain shoot through Ron's lower lip from where it had been caught in the middle, but he settled into the different feeling of their lips touching. It wasn't too terribly arousing, a small spark in his belly, but not the fire that Hermione managed to ignite.

He pulled back slightly, unsure if this was working, but Harry's fingers scratched against his skull as they threaded through his shaggy hair, pulling him closer. A startled sound escaped him and Harry swept his tongue forward, mapping this new land, staking his claim. Ron tensed with a gasp before he melted into the touch with a groan. Their lips moved together, wet slick of tongues gliding over one another. The embers ignited in his belly, burning slowly at first, but flaring brightly as Harry collapsed backwards, dragging Ron with him. A knee settled against his returning erection and he tensed again.

Harry felt the apprehension ripple through Ron and his fingers followed the curve of Ron's neck, massaging lightly at the flesh. He moved nothing but that hand and his lips as he worked to calm the redhead. The tenseness eased slowly and Harry thrust lightly. A gasp escaped them both at the rush of pleasure.

Ron pulled back first, anxiousness on his face as a blush rose in his cheeks.

Panting drew their attention from each other. Their gazes met a wide eyed, panting Hermione. Her lip was almost bitten through as she gnawed at it. Her chest heaved with each breath and lust gave a glowing sheen to her eyes.

It took three tries before she could form words. "I-I suspected, but … it was so much better."

Upon hearing her whispered words, the boys blushed. "You," —Ron cleared his throat before trying again— "you thought about it?"

"Oh, yes, often even."

"We'll just have to hope we live up to your expectations," Harry said. He flipped Ron off of him, following him over. He dropped a kiss to slack lips before he pulled back.

His clothes were dropped to the floor quickly before he reached for Ron's, hesitating with his fingers hovering over the button he glanced upwards for permission. Getting a nod, he worked quickly but carefully to unbutton and unzip them, pulling them down Ron's legs. Ron sat up, slipping the jacket from his shoulders before moving on to the buttons of his vest and then the shirt under that.

Clad in only their underwear they moved up the bed to where Hermione had slid to lean against the headboard. She watched them with a slight narrowing of her eyes, thoughtful and intense.

Harry slipped to one side of her. "I know that look. What do you want, love?"

Hermione nibbled her lower lip. This was more than she had ever thought she would get. Did she really want to push?

"Go on, ask," Ron said as he slid in on the other side.

"I want to watch you," she blurted out, clamping her lips together as soon as she realized what she had done.

A frown pulled at Ron's brow, not angry, more thoughtful and a touch confused. "Watch what?"

"I think she means watch us together."

"It doesn't have to be together, together," Hermione rushed to assure. "I just, I want to watch. Don't do it just for me, though. This is more than I could have hoped for."

"But not exactly what you wanted."

"I didn't mean it that way."

Ron sighed. "We know, Hermione, we know."

Harry slid an arm around Hermione, pulling her close as he sat up. "Let this be enough, Hermione. Just for now. Let all three of us get comfortable with this. Let us take care of you for tonight. This will be new, too. No avoidance, no awkward moments. Just the three of us, finally and truly married."

Hermione nodded with a smile. He was right. This was new. Probably something neither of them had ever thought about before this situation came about. It didn't all have to happen tonight. They had many years to get closer. Many years to take the last step together. She would let it all come together in its own time.

Things weren't perfect. But when was life ever perfect? There would be fights and silences and awkward moments, but there would be family dinners that would one day grow larger than just the three of them, happy moments where they curled up on the couch with nothing better to do than enjoy each other's company. And, best of all, there would be love. It was enough, for now, that they were all willing to try.

THE END

And that's all, folks! I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

I really felt like I was planning my own wedding at some points during this story, except it is completely different than anything I would have chosen. I really channeled Hermione on this one and I hope you enjoyed it.

I really meant for there to be a big ol' hot and sweaty sex scene at the end between all three, but they just wouldn't cooperate. Truthfully, I think the ending came together better than what I had planned.