"You know when, sometimes you meet someone so beautiful. Then you actually talk to them and five minutes later, they’re as dull as a brick? Then there’s other people, and you meet them and you think, ‘Not bad. They’re okay.’ And then you get to know them, and their face sort of becomes them. Like their personality is written all over it. And they just turn into something so beautiful."

- Amelia Pond

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The wedding was at Luna’s house, outside, under the Weasley’s tent, which was lent over for the occasion. Not everyone had arrived just yet, but groups of people were forming, some wearing abnormal accessories and others going so far as to wear costumes (one man as a giraffe with wings), where they caught up with old relatives and friends.

Hermione sat on one of the many chairs placed under the tent, each facing the archway adorned with all kinds of flowers. Some she recognised, others she weren’t so sure were even flowers, and figured them to be Luna’s creation.

She should be out there talking to people, mingling in with the crowd. Only, she could not stop herself from thinking about what Draco had said. Harry knew. How much, she didn’t know. But he knew. And he had not confronted her about it. She wondered why, there had been so many golden opportunities for him to do so. It was so unlike him to leave something like this alone without wanting answers. Maybe he thought she was better than that, thought she would never betray Ron like that, and so maybe he did not believe Draco. Maybe he was mad. So mad at her for not telling him herself, so disappointed he had no words to express it, therefore leaving the situation until she confronted him. Or maybe the whole thing was a test, to see whether she’d ever tell him at all.

“Hello, Hermione.”

Hermione jumped, twisting around in her seat to see who’d startled her and gave a sigh of relief. “Luna. You scared me.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “Quite a lot of people say that when I come up behind them like that.”

“Imagine that,” she said dryly, and then she saw the basket she was carrying. “Why have you brought radishes?”

“Oh.” Luna smiled. “I was actually wondering if you could help me.” She walked outside the tent, Hermione following curiously, and looked up at the roof of it, both women using their hands to shield their eyes from the bright rays of sunlight. “See, I’d like to have them floating around the edges of the tent.”

“Why?”

“For decoration, of course,” Luna said, like this was perfectly obvious. She pulled out her wand and pointed it at the basket. One radish twitched slightly, and then it was gently floating through the air until it reached the top of the tent, where it began bobbing almost lazily around. “There.”

A thought suddenly stuck her, and Hermione glanced back at the pocket Luna had pulled her wand out. Her pants were red. Shirt purple. “Luna,” she started, “you do know the wedding’s in less than an hour?”

She nodded, eyes transfixed on the radish she was currently directing through the air.

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready?”   

“You couldn’t do all these radishes by yourself, Hermione.”

“I can get help.”

“Harry’s not here yet.” She paused. “I suppose you could ask Ron. Look, there he is now.”

Hermione followed where Luna was pointing and felt herself stiffen. Resiting the urge to cover her face with the basket, she turned quickly back to Luna. “Actually, I think I could do them myself. There’s not that many, really –”

“Don’t be silly, Hermione.” And she trotted off towards Ron. Hermione watched them awkwardly as Luna greeted him and then gestured from herself, to Hermione and the radishes, to Ron. Ron nodded and she petted him on the back, threw a smile in the direction of Hermione, and went into the house to get ready.

“Hey,” Ron said, coming over.

Now that he was closer, she saw that his tie was purple, the very same shade her dress was. He seemed to realise this too, because he smiled as she did.

“Well, this is awkward,” she said.

“Looks a lot less awkward than what I wore to the Yule Ball.”

Hermione felt some of the tension crease as she laughed like she always did at the memory, surprised by how easy it was. Unlike when she was with Draco. Laughing around him never felt very natural.

“So she wants radishes bobbing around the roof?”

“Apparently so.”

Ron glanced into the basket. “All of them?”

Hermione nodded. “All of them, so we’d better get started.”

He aimed his wand at the vegetables. “Wingardium Leviosa.”

“Wingardium Leviosa.” The correction automatically left her mouth, and it was when Ron had been too silent for too long she met his eyes. There was amusement and nostalgia there, mixed with sadness and something else she had seen many times before. Something that had her heart aching and forcing down the want to touch him, to take his hand in hers like it could really be that easy. 

“Wingardium Leviosa,” he tried softly, and the radish flew.

Six radishes where above the tent when she spoke again, if only to disrupt the silence, and she asked what first came to mind. “How many Death Eaters did you manage to catch?”

Ron glanced sideways at her. Hesitated. “Four,” he replied eventually.

“Did you get my owl about the one at New Years?”

“Yeah, a few people reckon they saw something that night.”

“And have you uncovered any new information? From the ones you caught?”

He shrugged. “Nothing we didn’t already know. That they want to pick up from where Voldemort left off.” He paused again, watching the radish he was currently levitating. “They think they could do a better job than he did, seeing as Voldemort made all the mistakes for them that they now know not to repeat.”

Hermione almost dropped her radish. “They said that about their former leader?”

“Well, he’s dead now, isn’t he? It was no secret that they were all scared of him, except maybe Bellatrix, but she wasn’t all there in the head either.”

“But they still want to continue what he started?” she pressed.

“Yeah. They still hate Muggles and Muggle-borns. Nothing’s changed there.”

Hermione shook her head, incredulous. “Why can’t they just stop?”

“They will,” Ron said firmly. “Harry and I’ll make sure of that before they even know what hits them.”

She snuck a glance his way. He was so confident and firm, so different from the tall freckly boy who’d almost get sick all over the Great Hall before a Quidditch Match. And she wondered when things had changed so much, how it went from her having to reassure him to the other way around.

Hermione stood a little closer to him until her arm bushed his gently, his skin burning into hers as always, and when she met his eyes again, she thought maybe he knew what she was thinking. That maybe he understood.

Once the radishes were done, she sought out Luna in the house. The whole place had been rebuilt since the explosion, and with the amount of peculiar looking objects lying around and people coming in and out of rooms, she was somewhat at a loss as to where Luna’s room even was, if she was in there at all.

Hermione was just about ready to give up and leave, when she looked up the spiral staircase and spotted Ginny leaning on it a floor above. After waiting for a woman dressed as some sort of dinosaur cross butterfly, she climbed up.  

“Is she in there?” Hermione asked Ginny, who was tapping her foot impatiently and looking at a flower painted door.

She nodded once. “Yeah. She’s changed her dress three times now. First it was a caterpillar-like thing, then this creature she insisted was not a seahorse, which I’m still pretty sure it was, and now it remains to be seen what her next creation will be.”  

Frowning thoughtfully, Hermione knocked gently on the door. “Luna?” she asked. “Can I come in?”

“I suppose so,” was the reluctant reply.

Hermione went in, Ginny following closely behind.

“Do you like it?” Luna asked, staring down at her dress. “It’s one of those glow in the dark mushrooms, see?” She pointed at the lower part, where it flared out, and indeed it did look like she was wearing a mushroom upside down, but that was not what had Hermione halting.

It was that, now she was in a dress of white, it really hit that Luna and Neville were getting married. They were really going to do this. They were really going to spend the rest of their lives together, the girl with the lion hat and the boy with the missing toad.

Hermione crossed the room where she pulled Luna into a hug. “You look stunning.” And she really did, having that strange glow all brides seemed to have, symbolising both excitement and fear, because a wedding changed so much. It was a time you would always look back on and remember in some way, not just for the bride and groom, but all those who attended. And god, Hermione had caught a glimpse of Neville earlier and she hadn’t believed it was possible to smile so hard, but he was. He was happy. And so was Luna, her eyes bright and already shiny even though nothing had begun.

This happiness was contagious. When everything was in order and everyone in their seats, and when Luna came down the aisle in her mushroom dress that Hermione could see in the shade glowed, everyone mirrored their expression. Hermione thought of Luna’s father. She wondered if, as he walked with his daughter holding his arm, he was thinking back. If he was recalling all the moments he’d had with his daughter – the first time she walked to the last time she stopped needing his help for everything, whether it be reaching into a drawer out of reach of tiny fingers to tripping over and needing him to be there to kiss away the pain. 

As they exchanged vows, Hermione glanced down the row at Harry and Ginny, both sitting on her left and holding hands with Ginny’s head on his shoulder. Before she could even turn to look at the empty seat beside her, before she could even start to feel selfishly alone, Ron slipped himself effortlessly into it, and before she could even lift her eyes to him, he’d taken her hand and put a single rose in her palm. Thorns removed and all.

***

“Mind if I sit?”

Hermione looked up from her table and met the unmistakably green eyes of Ophelia. Surprised that she was even here, it took Hermione a moment to form words.

“O-oh. Of course you can.” 

Ophelia smiled thankfully and sat across from her. “My mother knows Neville’s grandmother – in case you’re wondering why I’m here.”

And Hermione had been wondering precisely that, only she was too polite to ask. “Your mother sure knows a lot of people,” she commented before an uncomfortable silence could fall between them. 

If Hermione had not spent so much time studying Draco and his intent resolution to hide feelings, she might have missed the quick and nearly unnoticeable change in Ophelia’s gaze, holding an almost rueful glint. “You could say that.” 

She probably should have left it at that, hardly knowing Ophelia as it was, but curiosity about the seemly flawless woman in font of her took over any attempt of restraint. “Does it bother you?” she asked. “Knowing so many people?”

She struggled with herself for a moment, before settling on a brief but acceptable answer. “Exhausting, I suppose you could call it.”

Simultaneously, they glanced over at the dance floor. Neville was now dancing with Ginny, while Harry tried following some bizarre dancing style of Luna’s with Ron and Fred looking on, sniggering behind their hands.

“Neville and the blonde girl – Laura?”

“Luna,” Hermione corrected.

“They’re your friends?”

Hermione felt herself smile as Harry half-tripped over his own feet. “They are.” 

“But Harry Potter and Ron Weasley are your best friends?”

Hermione met Ophelia’s gaze questioningly. “Yes.”

She nodded; mulling this over and then was quiet for a long time. “It must be nice.”

“What is?”

“To have so many people that would risk their lives for you.”

Hermione’s eyebrows rose at that. “But you’re Ophelia Hopkins. Surely, what with all the connections you have, you’d have people to –”

“There are plenty of Auror’s who’d jump between me and an Avada Kedavra, but only because it’s their job. And Mother is acquainted with tons of people, purely for connections and to keep up appearances. Not because they’re genuinely fond of each other. No, what I mean is that it must be really great, having people that care so deeply for you simply because they’re your friends.”

Having nothing to say to that and feeling considerably uncomfortable, Hermione looked down at the spotted tablecloth, and Ophelia must have noticed, because Hermione could hear the shame in her tone when she next spoke. “Sorry. This isn’t a conversation to be having with someone you barely know.”

“No,” she reassured her. “It’s good to get things off your chest.”

Ophelia was silent so long, that Hermione had to look up just to be sure she was even there. She was, but was watching Hermione, her expression contemplating.

“Thanks, Hermione,” she said, a smile turning her lips up. “I can see why Draco likes you.”

Her cheeks turned pink. “He only likes me because arguing is a favourite pastime of his.”

“That’s why I came over here in the first place, actually. I want you to know that I have no intention of taking Draco away from you when we’re married. The two of you can see each other whenever you’d like.”

Hermione’s smile was strained. Ophelia could have no idea that seeing each other after these six months was not an option.

“And, I also came over here because my mother wants to know where Draco is.”

“Where Draco is?” she repeated, and she thought she knew what was coming.

“Yes. See, she wants to see him. Problem is, I know he’s not here. And if mother finds out he could be in a lot of trouble. He hates Harry Potter and every Weasley, that’s quite a lot of well-known people. Now, for him to also hate Luna and Neville… it makes things complicated.”

Hermione swallowed back what she really wanted to say about Natalie and her high standards, and said, “So we need to get him here.”

Ophelia nodded. “I can’t do it because she’ll notice if I go missing. So…”

“So it’s up to me to find him.”

“Before my mother suspects anything, yes.”

And so the search began. 

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Next chapter; Hermione will walk in on something she really wished she hadn't. 

“Oh my god!” she cried, also turning her face away as if that would help to further shield herself from the indecency before her. “Why on earth are you naked?”

“Hey! It’s not like I knew you were going to just appear at any given moment!”