She sat off to the side of the room, legs pulled beneath her dressing gown to ward off the mid-winter chill that had enveloped the world. Sunlight streamed onto her person from the tall window separating the brick wall, illuminating the piece of parchment that lay in Hermione’s lap. A quill rested gently between her fingertips as her brown brows furrowed together in thought, and remembrance and concentration.

Her hair was piled on the top of her head in a sleek but messy bun, single tendrils of curl falling down in random places with tiny jewel encrusted pins holding back others. She let out a single shaky breath, mascara-encrusted lashes fluttering gently in front of the shimmering pink that was splayed across her eyelids.

“Hermione?”

Her head snapped up at the sudden sound, looking towards the doorway where Ginny stood.

“You look lovely.” She said.
“Thank you,” Her future sister-in-law smiled, “Mum told me you wanted some peace for a while, before everything, but I was just wondering if there was anything I could do?”
“No, thank you though, Ginny. I think I’m alright for now.”
“Of course. Just call if you need me.”

She nodded distractedly, barely hearing Ginny close the door or the redheads resounding voice outside the door telling everyone to clear off before she hexed someone. Ginny did take her maid of honour duties very seriously.

Left in silence once more, Hermione allowed herself to sink back further into the worn red plush, fingers running over the delicate feather of her quill. It hardly felt real that today had finally come, and that everything she had once dreamt of was so close to becoming a reality.

Hermione’s thoughts strayed slowly to the idea that she was simply a few hours away from becoming Mrs. Ronald Weasley. She was really going to walk down the isle with her father and pledge her eternal love to Ron in front of everyone they both held so dear.

Yet that brought her heart back to the dull ache that had settled in her soul for the last few days. Everyone that was supposed to be there was not going to be. Sometimes Hermione wished nothing more than to forget about those that they had lost. It had been so many years ago, and so much had changed, and so many had moved on, yet sometimes she would look around a room of people and all she could think of were the faces that were not there. How unfair it was that they could not be there to enjoy life.

Dear Dad,
I hope you don’t mind me calling you ‘dad’. Once Ron and I became engaged Molly insisted on me calling her ‘mum’, and honestly, I’ve always thought of you as my other dad. The one who took me into his home, and cared for me like I was his own daughter, and trusted me with all the knowledge of the magical world he could offer.

This is so hard for me. It’s so hard for me to sit here knowing that when I walk down the isle you won’t be there beside Molly, beaming up at Ron and I. You were supposed to be there when I promised for the rest of my life that I would love your son. And I do. I do love Ron, dad. I love him like you loved mum, like Harry loves Ginny and Fred and George love jokes. But I think you always knew that.

I think probably from that first summer I spent at the Burrow you knew what Ron and I were destined to be. It would make sense that a ‘muggle-born know it all’ would steal your sons heart, wouldn’t it? Molly told me a few years ago that once Voldemort had come back to power, and after Ron and I had stomped off in opposite directions after a row that you had looked at her, and with all the confidence in the world said that you were fighting this war again because of that- because Ron and I stood for everything that was right about the world.

And you were right. It took us so long to figure out that what we had each been fighting for was each other, but we did. We all fought Voldemort for the chance to love and live and enjoy every moment of it. You gave your life so Ron and I could do just that. I can never thank you enough, dad, for giving me yesterday, and today, and tomorrow, and everyday to come with your son. Thank you for raising him the way you did, and for teaching him everything that I know he’ll pass onto our children.

He’s grown into an incredible man, dad. You would be so proud of him. He reminds me of you a lot of the time, how his eyes twinkle, the way he’s becoming more and more interested in ‘muggle contraptions’, the way he plays with Bill and Fleur’s children, or Charlie’s daughter. Ron truly is your son, and nothing makes me prouder.

Certainly, he does drive me nutters sometimes, but mum once told me it was all part of the ‘Weasley charm’. And what a charm it is. Ron completes me in a way that no one else does; he makes me feel whole and safe and cherished for every perfection and imperfection that I am. There’s no other man I would ever want to marry, and no other family name that I would rather take.

You were right all those years ago, dad. You were so right when you came into Ginny and my room after sixth year, right before Bill and Fleur’s wedding, and kissed each of us on the forehead, and said ‘goodnight my beautiful daughters’.

I just wish you could be here when I officially become your daughter.

I love you, dad.


The back of her hand rubbed against her eyes slowly, Hermione releasing the deep breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. The sun had risen higher in the sky, taking out some of the chill in the air as her eyes traveled across the landscape outside. Snow speckled the ground, pure and untouched aside from a single snow angel that set a smile to her lips.

“Hermione?”

Once again the door was partially opened, Ginny slipping inside and shutting the door firmly behind her. Hermione took the moment to more carefully take in her best friend, brown eyes scanning the beautiful woman. The dress Hermione had picked out for her maid of honour was simple, an intense deep blue strapless dress that came down to her knees. With her hair pilled atop her head and simple charcoal across her eyelids, Ginny was a sight for the world to behold.

“Hermione?”
“Wha-”
“I called your name twice. Are you alright?”
“Oh,” She nodded, “Yes. Fine.”
“You don’t look fine… your makeup’s all smudged.”

If it had been anyone else Hermione would have rushed in a panic to the mirror to cry in horror over what had just been said. But Ginny was her Maid of Honour because she was Hermione’s best friend, and the brunette just shrugged from her seat.

“Hermione, what’s wrong?”

She said nothing, just shrugged again as Ginny came towards her and pulled up another chair.

“Hermione… you can tell me. Whatever it is that’s bothering you, I’m here to listen.”
“You wouldn’t understand, Ginny.”
“Try me.”

The tone was harsher this time, more confrontational, more Ginny-like, and that made Hermione smile. This soft-spoken Ginny had been a tad unnerving in the past weeks. Yet with the tone also came the realization that yes, Ginny would understand. Ginny would understand more than anyone what it was like to be missing Arthur Weasley because Ginny had gone through the same loss. It was more of a loss, Hermione rused, because at least she had a father to walk her down the isle still. Ginny didn’t.

“I’m sorry, Gin. I just… today is such a bittersweet day, you understand?”
“Because you’re marrying the man of your dreams, and oh, that also means you’re marrying stubborn, rude, and inconsiderate Ronald?” Ginny laughed.
“Actually, no. I’m not worried at all about marrying Ron. I’m quite used to the less than impeccable sides of Ron, as well as the wonderful.”

Ginny laughed, a deep meaningful laugh that made Hermione smile and then slowly break out into a chuckle of her own.

“You know Hermione, there is no one else I can imagine being able to do what you’re doing today. Ron, I love him to death, but he’s a miserable prat sometimes. Yet somehow the two of you work so perfectly together….”
“Did you ever have any doubts we would get here today, Ginny?”

The questions visibly threw off the younger woman, Hermione turning to face out the window once more for a few minutes until she felt fit to look back.

“Yeah,” Was the whispered response, “Sometimes I didn’t think you would figure each other out. Sometimes I didn’t think we’d live to today. Sometimes it seemed like that if you two couldn’t make things work, then what hope was there for the rest of us?”
“Were we really that dense, Gin?”
“More so. When things were really bad, Hermione, we all just wanted to lock you in a broom cupboard with Ron. Even Mum, sometimes!”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Dad. He had this crazy idea that Ron and you would realize it eventually. He knew from the very beginning I think, before Mum even, that you would end up together.”

The lapsed silence was more uneasy that the previous one, both women quietly mulling their own thoughts over until Hermione reached out to take Ginny’s hand. It was an unspoken action that conveyed everything she wanted to say, both sets of brown eyes welling up.

“You miss him, don’t you?”
“I feel so selfish, wishing so much he was here to see Ron and I get married, but you won’t have him either. He won’t ever be able to walk you down the isle.”
“Oh, Hermione. You’re not selfish. We all want him here today. Ron and I had this conversation earlier.”
“You did?” Two eyebrows rose in surprise.
“Ron was so close to Dad, you know? He kept saying how much he wanted him to be here because Dad would have been so happy he was marrying you. Everyone in the family knew that there’s no one else Dad would have wanted Ron to marry.”
“Truly?” She whispered.

Ginny nodded softly, standing up and padding to the other side of the room. She returned a minute later, pulling a tissue out of the box as she leant forward and began to gently wipe at the smudged makeup. Several minutes passed like this, Hermione’s chocolate eyes closed tightly as Ginny continued her labours until the tissue was pulled aside.

“You were the only one that ever looked past the red hair and freckles and older brothers and saw who Ron really was, Hermione. You were the only one that could push him to want to be a better person, to strive for more in life. You’re the only one that has always loved Ron for who he is, faults and all.” The youngest Weasley child smiled sadly, “Dad loved you from the moment he met you Hermione, for every one of those reasons, and more. He is here today, I truly believe that he’s going to be sitting beside Mum today when you talk down the isle and marry my brother.”

The sun was radiant and warm, and as Hermione came to stand at the beginning of the isle, she couldn’t help but notice how it sprayed across Ron’s hair in a radiating auburn glow. Shyly, her eyes looked down to the snow underneath her feet, biting her lip gently as she gathered the courage to look up once more.

Ginny stood on one side of the minister, smiling gently as Hermione caught her eye, before turning to cast a glance at Harry, positioned on the right side of Ron. His black hair hung messily in front of his scar, green eyes merrily watching her with a tinkle from behind his glasses. And then there was Ron. Ron who was standing waiting for her, hands clasped in front of his suit, biting his own lip to suppress a grin.

Hermione stifled a giggle as she took her first step, holding on tightly to her father’s arm as the gaze of the gathered fell upon her. The wind, and the cold snow didn’t even register as she held her flowers tightly, letting herself bask in the realization that she was almost there. Everything she had ever wanted in life was just a few steps away from her.

Her father’s lips were warm on her cheek; Hermione’s chocolate eyes turning to meet Ron’s piercing blue, her face finally breaking out into the smile she had been suppressing. Ron’s simple grin made her giggle finally, leaning forward to rest her head on his chest for a second before standing up as properly as possible again.

It was an act that made Ginny laugh, and Harry snort, and the twins chuckle. Both heads turned when they head someone laugh through their sob, Ron smiling at Molly Weasley who held a handkerchief to her face. Hermione’s eyes sought out the sky behind the family matriarch though, closing her eyes in the golden sun that warmed her.

How could she have doubted for a moment that he would miss this moment?