Chapter Text
“It’s hideous and I look awful!!!!” Lavender screeches, ripping the veil from her head and throwing it to the wooden floor of one of the burrow's many extra bedrooms.
With a frustrated huff she begins to pace the small room, her large dress a voluminous cloud of taffeta swishing in her wake.
“My whole day is ruined! we should just cancel the whole thing.”
Hermione, who had spent the whole day organizing caterers and florists and tending to lavender’s various outbursts like some kind of defacto wedding planner, heartily disagreed.
Shooting Mrs. Weasley a look Hermione steps forward and picks up the discarded veil. With pearl and sequin inlay the piece of fabric was heavier than it looked and stretched from where Hermione held it at her waist all the way to the floor and into the hallway.
“Uuummm what exactly is it about the veil that you don’t like? I’m sure that Molly could make some alterations?”
At that Lavender’s tear-stained face snaps up to Mrs. Weasley, hopeful.
“Really?”
Taking her cue, molly steps forward, approaching her daughter-in-law-to-be be like a deer to a wounded bear.
“Well of course my dear! You don’t raise six boys without picking up a mending spell or two! When Ron went through that last growth spurt, I reckon I used an extender charm on his pants every other-“
“Longer, I need it longer!” says Lavender. Advancing on the older woman, eyes manic.
“Oh but my dear its already so-“
“Longer! I need. To make. An entrance!”
“Very well” sighs a defeated Molly Weasley. “We’ll see what we can do.”
Lavender seems to calm at Molly’s words, and Hermione takes the opportunity to quietly slip out of the room, leaving the future mother and daughter-in-law to sort out the veil fiasco for themselves.
Despite their rocky beginning lavender and Hermione had come to establish a friendship in the years after the war. After her gruesome attack at the hands of grey back and the death of her best friend Parvati, Hermione had felt a sense of duty to her old roommate and had gone with Lavender to her healers’ appointments and had made a point to check in frequently with the blonde.
This had also led to Hermione inviting Lavender to Girl’s nights at the burrow where she had eventually reconnected with Ron.
Despite the initial sting of jealousy Hermione had felt upon Lavender and Ron’s newfound happiness so close to the ending of her and Ron’s own ill-fated relationship, Hermione had felt nothing but good things for the couple when Ron proposed to Lavender the summer after they had started dating.
Though Lavender could be a bit much at times, her and Ron complimented each other in ways Hermione and Ron never could.
Making her way down the creaky steps and into the Weasley kitchen, she stops to inhale the familiar scent of nutmeg and burning cedar. The afternoon sunlight pours through the windows, casting a golden light across the room, so reminiscent of the way she had imagined the place, night after night in her tent when she, Ron and Harry had been on the run so many years ago.
Interrupted from her revery by the creak of a floorboard behind her, Hermione spins to find Charlie Weasley, leaning against the counter, a glass of fire whiskey in hand.
“Well, if it isn’t the last single Weasley standing,” says Hermione, breaking into a smile.
Charlie chuckles, eyes crinkling at the corners “Yes, well it looks like it's just you, me, and the little ones at the kid's table from now on”.
“As long as no one is trying to set me up on another blind date the kid's table sounds just fine to me thank you,” says Hermione, laughing and reaching for the bottle of fire whiskey he had extended to her.
“Ah yes, you mean like last winter when Ginny just happened to run into Cormac Mclaggen on her way to Christmas dinner?”
“Yes, what a happy coincidence! or how about the time Lavender brought her friend Demelza around who was just soooooo interested in dragons.” Hermione shoots back, voice dripping with mirth.
Charlie’s brows raise at the memory, shaking his head “Yes, well, turns out she was more interested in dragon hide than dragons themselves.”
Hermione cringes, remembering the horrified look on Charlie's face when Demelza had proffered her expensive-looking Appalachian diamond back dragon skin handbag to the man, explaining that the ungodly price she’d paid for the bag had been a steal as the dragon had been one of the last of its kind out of captivity.
Hermione had already known this, seeing as she had helped Charlie present his new protection initiative for that very same species of dragon to the American Ministry of Magic not but three months earlier.
They fell into a comfortable silence as they sat, enjoying the burn of the fire whiskey.
As tall as Ron but broader in the shoulders, Charlie still managed to look every bit the rugged outdoorsman despite his formal robes. His hair was kept short, showing off his kind blue eyes, and a light smattering of ginger stubble framed his strong jaw. His skin was sun-kissed from days spent in the field and burn scars peeked out from behind the collar and sleeves of his robe.
“So, Malfoy will be here today.”
His words jolt Hermione from her pleasant train of thoughts, twisting in her gut.
“I suppose he will,” she says with a tight smile, pouring herself a few fingers more of fire whiskey. “So will the new Mrs. Malfoy”
“Will you be, ok? I’m sorry to bring it up I just know how hard that can be and I thought someone should check in since everyone else seems to be so busy with the wedding all”
“Well thank you…but, It's been a year; I should be used to seeing them together by now.”
“Even so, you’re allowed to be upset. If anything happens just know I’m here for you. Us kids table folks best stick together”
Despite how much she wished to not be discussing the topic of her ex boyfriend mid preparation for her other ex boyfriends wedding, she found herself grateful for the elder Weasley. When she finally meets his gaze, she pretends not to notice the warmth that stirs in her belly, a feeling not entirely dissimilar to that from the fire whiskey she had been sipping.
“Hermione!!!!!” Lavender bellows from upstairs, interrupting whatever kind of moment they were having.
“And that’s my cue” Hermione sighs before downing the last of her drink.
“Well, good luck with that…I’ll see you later, ya?”
Hermione gives him a smile and nod, hoping her face didn’t convey just how much she looked forward to that, before making her way upstairs to damage control whatever it was her high-strung friend had determined to be yet another wedding-ruining disaster.
The ceremony was beautiful. The evening had been pleasant and warm, the only light coming from the stars and glowing erumpent horn torches- courtesy of Luna and Xenophelius Lovegood of course- that lined the aisle. Ron's tie had been a bright pink to match the flowers and the bridesmaid dresses, and when the tearful couple had finished saying their vows a flock of pink doves had materialized, scattering glitter all over the front row. Despite the color palette clashing horribly with Ron’s bright red hair, the couple had looked incandescent.
After the ceremony, Hermione made her way to the food tent, ensuring that everything was in order. She straightened the lace doilies at every place setting and ensured the pink sequin framed photos of the couple that Lavender had requested, were placed at the center of every table.
Just as she stood to survey the rest of the room, satisfied with her work, she noticed a shock of familiar pale hair among the throng of guests beginning to make their way into the tent.
Draco and his new wife.
Both tall and lean, there was no mistaking their pedigree with their high cheekbones, aristocratic features, and impeccable posture. Astoria’s hair was dark and silky, flowing in luxurious waves down her back, and like Malfoy her skin was pale, contrasting dramatically with her dark blue eyes and cupid’s bow lips painted crimson. Her dress was a rich navy blue and Hermione was certain that the chandelier-like necklace that rested between the curve of her breasts cost more than Hermione’s house. Despite their difference in stature and coloring, she looked for all the world like a younger Narcissa Malfoy—the perfect pureblood wife.
At the thought, Hermione couldn’t help but look down at her own bright pink pastry-like dress. She had been required to wear it as one of Lavender’s bride’s maids but that did not make it any more flattering.
Upon seeing them now she couldn’t help the disheartening thought that Malfoy and Astoria were made for each other.
Beginning shortly after her split with Ron, her affair with Draco had been fast and intense. Fuelled by residual pain from the war and solidified by the pair’s mutual lack of healthy coping methods, memories of their relationship were whiskey-soaked and intense. Both fiery by nature and even more emotionally volatile as a result of their war-wrought youth they had fought just as much as they fucked.
And they had done both.
Very, very often.
Their breakup, although necessary, had plunged Hermione into a pit of sadness of the likes she hadn’t experienced since her parents had died just after her sixth year.
All those feelings Hermione had so carefully packed away in the darkest recesses of her mind came rushing forward when the blond Slytherin looked up from his discussion, meeting Hermione’s eyes for the first time that evening.
His brow furrowed and grey eyes thoughtful, he gave her a tight-lipped smile and a nod. Hermione returned this in kind, doing her best not to stare dejectedly at the hand Malfoy had wrapped possessively around Astoria's delicate waist throughout the exchange.
It was precisely the greeting that one would expect to give to an estranged ex in public.
It makes Hermione nauseous.
The bodice of her dress suddenly feeling far too tight, Hermione makes a beeline for the back entrance of the tent.
She is struggling to catch her breath in the cool night air when a warm hand comes down on her shoulder.
She freezes. Had Draco followed her?
Looking up she’s surprised at her relief that it is instead Charlie Weasley who must have noticed her sudden departure from the reception.
Without a word, he pulls her to his chest and holds her there, and like a dam bursting Hermione can’t stop herself from releasing deep, body-wracking sobs into his shirt as he strokes her back, cheek resting against the top of her head.
“How did you get over it, Charlie? How do you stand seeing them together? All the time?” she looks up at him, eyes puffy and cheeks tear stained.
Charlie hesitates for a minute at her question, and just as she was about to apologize for overstepping, he speaks.
“It was difficult at first. Fleur was my first love. After we met at the Triwizard tournament and then that first summer with her, I thought we were going to do it all together. I couldn’t imagine a world where we weren’t us…and then the war happened, and we were both fighting in different parts of the country, and I knew I had to let her go. Then that first Christmas when Bill brought her home and I saw him living that life I had always dreamed of having with her, in my place, it broke my heart. But it gets easier. The shock goes away. Became a dull ache until now I genuinely feel happy for them. Bill was there to protect her when I couldn’t, and now they have Victoire, and she makes Bill so happy.”
Hermione had pulled away a little and was looking up at him now. “You never told him…about you and Fleur?”
“She told him after that Christmas, I think everyone could tell I was a bit off and then I left so early to go back to Romania…He tried to break it off with her after that, came all the way out to the dragon sanctuary to apologize but I wouldn’t hear it, me and fleur were done. It was time I moved on.”
Charlie’s statement hangs between them for a moment, the sounds of the crickets and far off revelry drowning out Hermione’s still heavy breathing as he holds her against his chest.
“Thank you, Charlie, really. Gods I’m such a mess. Crying at a wedding and its not even mine” She says, in attempt to lighten the mood.
His eyes flick to hers, his gaze intense and unreadable. Their faces are so close now, shaky breaths loud in her ears.
Charlie’s hand moves from its place on the curve of her hip and up to the side of her face, and in one swift movement, he brings his lips down to hers. Hermione hears herself sigh into his mouth, returning the kiss enthusiastically. She runs her hands through his hair, pulling him closer. His tongue enters her mouth, his left hand sliding to her bum. Not to be outdone, Hermione's hands slip under his untucked shirt, tracing the hard muscles of his back.
Gone was the sadness she had felt just moments ago, evaporated in the crisp night air. In its place is heat and strong shoulders and hands that explored her curves and lips that kissed up her neck, electrifying everywhere they touched.
She grinds her core into his thigh. Gods she needed this and judging from the feeling of his hard length pressed against her middle, so did he. Rucking up her dress, Charlie picks her up and wraps her legs around his waist. His hands run up her thighs just under the hem of her dress. Gods yes, just a little higher and he would reach her core and he would feel just how drenched her-
“Mione!”
They spring apart so abruptly Hermione almost falls backwards into Molly’s flower bed behind them.
While Charlie makes quick work of tucking his dress shirt back in, Hermione casts a quick makeup refreshing charm and tries in vain to smooth out her wild hair in a desperate attempt to avoid looking like they had just been doing, well, what they had been doing.
It soon seems however, that there would be no need to hide the evidence of their activities as they turn to find a heavily inebriated Ron stumbling across the lawn towards them, amber liquid sloshing from the bottle in his hand, entirely oblivious to the moment he had just interrupted.
As he approaches, he throws an arm around each of them, seemingly more in an attempt to keep himself standing than anything else.
“And Charlie! My favorite brother!” He slurs, leaning in close to a smirking Charlie, “don’t tell the others” he says, with what Hermione believes is supposed to be a conspiratorial wink.
“You know you two are so lucky! You know that?! You’re just a pair of uuuuh what do the muggles call it? Two lonely dogs!” Ron exclaims proudly.
“Uhhh I think you mean lone wolves?”
“Ya! That’s the one! Brilliant!…Two Lonely Wolves, you’re so smart Hermione”
With some effort, Hermione manages to pry the open bottle Ron was holding from his hand in a half-hearted attempt to keep it upright. Though she would be the last to protest if the amber liquid did spill down the front of the pink-ruffled monstrosity of her dress.
“Are you having a fun time Ron?” She asks.
“The best! Lav can be a bit of a nightmare sometimes but such a large... what do ya call it? Chest! Yes, very large chest you know… very…loving.”
“I think you mean a very large heart?” Hermione offers.
“Yes! That’s the one! Innit?”
“I think chest sounds better” said Charlie, doing his best to suppress a smile. “In fact, I think you should probably add that to the speech.”
At this suggestion, Ron’s eyes lit up. “Speech! I need to go make a speech! Thanks, mate! You guys are the best!”
And with that, he is off towards the tent, no doubt on his way to make a terribly ill-advised and incredibly sloshed proclamation of love to his new bride.
“You are incorrigible!” Hermione scolds when Ron is out of earshot, smacking a laughing Charlie in the back of the head.
Still laughing, Charlie looks back towards the tent to where his brother had left “Well I guess we’d better go stop him, don’t want him making a speech about Lavender’s assets and giving old Auntie Muriel a heart attack now do we?” he says, offering her his hand.
Still smiling, Hermione takes it, following him back towards the tent.