-1Chapter 1: Complications

Ron Weasley was stewing.

It wasn't like him to sit and think for as long as he had been for the past few hours, but as there had, for once, been nothing to do, he took the opportunity to collect his confused thoughts.

Foremost among these thoughts were some tangled emotions about a certain bushy-haired witch. Ron's ears grew slightly red just thinking about her, but he wasn't sure exactly what to do about it.

He had been overjoyed when Hermione had kissed him during the Battle of Hogwarts. Elated, in fact. So why was it that Hermione had all but ignored him for the past few weeks?

It wasn't like she was very far away, considering that she was staying in the same house as Ron. After the destruction of Voldemort, Harry, Ron and Hermione had all returned to stay at the Burrow with Ron's family. Hermione had briefly gone to Australia to lift the memory charm from her parents and see them back to their home in Leeds. Following that, she had returned to the Burrow to help the distraught Mrs. Weasley, who was still suffering from the loss of her son, Fred.

Ron had spent almost two weeks mourning his brother. Fred and George had always made fun of him, but he was still his brother, and the death had hit him hard. It was Hermione who had gotten Ron to rise from his depression and move on, but after that, she had barely spoken to him.

Sprawled on his messy bed, his hands linked behind his head, Ron stared up at the poster of the Chudley Cannons taped to his ceiling. He wasn't paying much attention to the soaring and waving Quidditch players, though. His mind was away, far away, still dwelling on the smiling, pink-cheeked face of-

"RON!"

Ron shot up and nearly toppled off of the bed. "Merlin's beard, Harry! Don't DO that!"

A young man with untidy black hair and glasses had just pushed open the door to Ron's attic room and was now standing with his hands in his pockets, looking at Ron.

"Well, I've been calling your name for almost five minutes." Harry pushed his glasses, which were sliding down his nose, back up and smiled. "You dad wants us downstairs to help with dinner."

"Oh…right." Ron threw his legs off of the bed and stood up, yawning widely. "How many are we counting on for dinner now?"

Harry held up one hand and started ticking of names. "Your dad, your mum, Charlie, George and Verity, Bill and Fleur, Mrs. Tonks and Teddy, Hermione, Neville, Dean, Luna, and Ginny." Ron noticed a slight red flush to Harry's cheeks when he said the last name and grinned.

"What?" said Harry suspiciously.

"Nothing, nothing." Ron clapped his hand on his best friend's shoulder and they walked out of the room.

They arrived in the kitchen to find it in complete chaos. Several pots and pans on the stovetop were boiling and spitting, and a frothy grey steam was rising from a small, covered pot in the back. A set of knives were cutting away at some vegetables on the countertop, and Mrs. Weasley stood in the middle of it all, waving her wand rapidly at what looked like something yellow and bubbly in a large bowl.

"Oh good, there you boys are." Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, catching sight of them. "Ron, will you please take these three dishes outside, and Harry dear, those plates and forks? We're eating outside; there's no possible way we can all fit in here, what with everyone coming and all. WHERE IS GINNY?" she roared, her eyes narrowing.

Ron flicked his wand at the dishes, Harry Summoned the utensils, and they both made their ways quickly out of the kitchen and away from Mrs. Weasley's wrath.

"Jeez, Mum's on the warpath." Ron grumbled as the two traipsed out to the garden. Two large, wooden tables had already been set up and pushed together, clean, slightly wrinkled blue tablecloths covering them. Ron sent the food dishes smoothly to land on the table. "Oy, Harry! Be careful with those knives, mate!"

For Harry, not paying attention in the slightest, as Ginny had just walked outside, had sent the many steak knives flying towards Ron instead of the table. Ron let out a yell and ducked for cover beneath the table. "HARRY!"

"Huh? Oh, sorry, sorry!" Harry hastily sent the knives to their original destination. "Sorry, mate."

"S'okay." Ron climbed out from beneath the table, brushing off the legs of his jeans as he did so. "Just make sure I'm not standing around you the next time you're holding the forks."

Harry grinned. "Will do."

Ron waved his wand and the plates and the utensils slid and arranged themselves neatly along the table. Just as he was Summoning some candles to light, a girl with brown hair appeared in the garden with a loud crack, a large, open book in her hands.

Startled and feeling his cheeks turn red, Ron accidentally stopped the spell. The candles in their glass cups fell to the ground with a crash.

"Really, Ronald." Hermione said exasperatedly. "Those were your mother's best candles."

"I, er, yeah, I know." Ron said, flustered. He quickly waved his wand at the remaining shards. "Reparo."

The glass instantly reconstructed and the candles flew into the air. Ron muttered "Incendio." and they lit themselves, bobbing to float around the long table.

"Er, he-hello." Ron said uncertainly.

"Hello." Hermione responded automatically. She had raised the book to her face and was now reading it while walking over to sit at the table. Ron craned his neck to get a glimpse of the title. Hogwarts, A History: A Revised Version.

"Hello, Hermione." Harry said. "How are you this evening?"

"Very well, thank you, Harry." Hermione said without looking up.

Harry turned to Ron and raised an eyebrow. Ron just shrugged, feeling his face flush. Hermione was still acting strangely, and he had no idea why.

"What's the-OUCH!"

There was another loud crack and George Weasley appeared, almost on top of Harry. As it was, he landed mostly on Harry's foot.

"Whoops, sorry about that, Harry, my lad. I thought I had a clear shot." George slung an arm around Harry's shoulder, who nearly choked.

"Where's Verity?" Ron asked.

"She'll be here any-"

For the third time that evening, there was a deafening crack and a pretty, blonde haired witch in shockingly pink robes appeared next to George. She smiled. "Hello, Harry. Ron, Hermione."

The trio chorused hellos and then George finally released Harry from his chokehold. He took Verity's hand and kissed it, smiling down at her. She leaned against him, and a wave of jealousy washed over Ron. Not over Verity; but rather over the relationship that they had. George and Verity were obviously very happy together. And what did he, Ron, have?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. At least according to Hermione.

Ron let out a deep sigh and stalked back to the house to retrieve more candles.

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"We are here to celebrate a very special time."

The group was sitting, comfortably full, relaxing in the setting sun. Down at the end of the table, Fleur was sitting, leaning against Bill, who had his arm around her. Once again, Ron felt that stab of loneliness.

Mr. Weasley gazed happily down at the table and raised his glass of butterbeer. "We would like to congratulate George and Verity, with the help of Ron and Harry, for reopening their shop."

There was a smattering of applause. George grinned appreciatively and raised a hand. "Thank you, thank you. And now," George stood up, his chair making a squelching sound in the dewey grass. "-I have an announcement to make."

All eyes were fastened on George. Ron knew what it was his brother was going to say before he said it. He had, after all, been there when George had done it. He crossed his arms across his chest and leaned sullenly back in his chair.

George took a deep breath, and then, unable to contain himself, a wide, earsplitting grin spread across his face. "I asked Verity to marry me, and she said yes!"

There was a split second of silence and then chaos broke out all down the table. Mrs. Weasley let out a shriek of happiness, looking faint, and Fleur exclaimed "Oh, I just love weddings!" Mr. Weasley was wiping tears of joy from his eyes, Dean said "Right on, mate!" and Luna said, sipping her butterbeer serenely, "Oh, that's nice."

Hermione, showing more signs of life than she had for a month, leapt up and threw her arms around George, looking ecstatic. "Oh, George!" she squealed. "That's wonderful news!"

George laughed. "Thanks, Hermione. And we were wondering if you would be one of our bridesmaids."

Hermione looked thunderstruck. "I, well…of course!" she said, a rather flustered, but pleased expression on her face. "I'd love to!"

"Thanks." George turned to Ginny, who was seated beside Harry, across from George. "And Gin, of course, is our maid of honor."

Ginny nearly spit out her drink. "What? Are you serious? I don't want to be a maid of honor!"

"I know." George grinned wickedly. "That's why we chose you. That, and Verity has no sisters."

Ginny huffed, but Harry put a consoling hand on her knee, and she quieted down.

Ron was still sulking, and he knew it. He was just waiting for a reason to be. He knew George would probably pick Charlie to be best man, as Fred was…well…George was closest to Charlie out of all the remaining three brothers. Bill wouldn't mind not being picked, but Ron was angry. He felt as if he had once again been passed over, forgotten in the mix. He hardly noticed that George was speaking again.

"…and Ron, of course, as my best man." he was saying.

Wait, Ron thought. What?

Next to him, Harry elbowed him and hissed "Ron! George is talking to you!"

"I, er, what?" Ron asked stupidly.

George was looking down at Ron, and for once, he was looking quiet serious. "I was just saying Ron, how I'd like you to be my best man."

"I…I…" Ron was at a loss for words. Astonishment had evidently crossed his face, because both George and Verity laughed lightly.

"Look, Ron." George said, sitting down again. He took one of Verity's hands as he did so. When he spoke again, it was quietly, so that Ron could barely hear him. "We've talked this over, me and Ver. And we have decided that this is what we want. Both of us. Ron, you've always been the closest brother to me. Well…" he said, looking down. "The second closest brother."

"But…" Ron asked, confused. His mind was whirling. "I thought…I thought, Charlie, or, or Bill…" his voice trailed off as he realized how stupid he sounded.

George chuckled. "It's true that I have known them longer. But Ron," he said. "I want you as my best man. I have gone through too much with you and not enough with them."

"You-you…have you gone mental?" Ron asked.

"No, I have not, and Ron, you are being our best man at our wedding. End of subject. Now," George clapped his hands together. "Where is some more of that excellent blackberry pie that Mum made?"

The talking that had faded slightly at George's announcement about Ron flared up once more.

"Ron, that's brilliant!" Harry said, clapping Ron on the back. "Best man!"

"Er, yes…yes!" A smile began to tug at Ron's mouth until he was unable to conceal it. "I'm George's best man!" he said giddily. "I'm a best man!"

"We haven't even had the wedding yet, and it's already gone to his head." Ginny said dryly, and Harry laughed.

"Really well done, Ron!" Dean said. The tall, black boy grinned down the table at them. Next to him, a heavyset boy with dark hair said "Wow…best man! That's great, Ron!"

"Thanks, Dean, Neville." Ron took a swig of butterbeer, and for the first time in a month, he felt somewhat content.

It was short lived, of course. Hermione, sitting diagonally across from Ron, did not say another word for the rest of the dinner. After they had cleaned up, she paid no attention to anyone, but whisked away up to her shared bedroom with Ginny.

Ron had never felt so elated and so lousy at the same time.