Disclaimer: I do not own, nor am I affiliated with Harry Potter.

A/N: (Mostly) Femslash. Not canon compliant. One-shot. Written from multiple points of view. Longish, but a pretty easy read without any heavy lifting. Please excuse the typos, grammar mistakes, and Americanisms. Also, beware for some minor – potentially semi-major – OOC-age.

ETA: I apologize to anyone who tried to read this after FFNet removed the page breaks. Hopefully it stays fixed now.

Speak Now

Hermione has always been able to recognize trouble when she sees it. It's one of her most highly prized abilities – in the same league as her gifts for information retention and problem-solving – and one that's come in handy many times during her twenty-six years of life. So, when Ron Weasley storms into the antechamber of the church, red-faced and breathing like a winded Hippogriff, the only thing Hermione really sees is trouble.

Instantly wary, but knowing better than to show it, Hermione turns away from the mirror, where she has been examining the curls painstakingly arranged around the back of her head, and looks toward the door Ron's just barreled through. Just before it latches shut she catches a glimpse of Harry's face and its oddly anticipatory expression.

Another bad sign.

"Ron?" she asks, careful to sound pleasantly surprised instead of deeply alarmed. "What are you doing in here?"

Never one to disguise his emotions, Ron doesn't bother the disdain in his voice as he says, "Don't be thick, Hermione. You know why I'm here."

She doesn't actually, though she could probably has a very good idea. And the implication inherent in Ron's agitated arrival brings with it a guilty thrill that Hermione has to consciously tamp down. This is her wedding day, the thought of Ron rushing to stop the ceremony cannot be allowed to excite her. Or get her hopes up.

"You've come to kiss me on the cheek and wish me happy?" Hermione smiles and can't decide whether to be more impressed that the syrupy words actually come out steady and unaffected, or that Ron's head doesn't implode at her purposefully ignorant response. As it is, his face turns an even darker red and his hands clench into fists.

"Not in this bloody lifetime."

The growled response is a little more dangerous than Hermione is used to hearing from Ron and she actually backs away from him, eyes searching for an escape route should she need it.

As if reading her mind, Ron moves to grab Hermione's arm but she manages to jump out of his reach, stumbling a bit over her dress because she doesn't have her heels on yet and her skirt is just a bit too long. Somehow she's able to maintain her balance and put a chair between them, a necessary precaution because she has no idea what Ron's intentions are once he gets his hands on her and she doesn't trust that he won't ring her neck.

Feeling more secure with the chair separating them, Hermione lifts her chin and dons her best Professor McGonagall face. "Ronald Weasley -"

"This wedding's a joke, Hermione," Ron interrupts, eyes narrowing to a glare. "Why don't you do what's best for everyone and come with me. We both know it's what you want to do anyway."

No matter how much she wants to, Hermione can't deny the truth in Ron's words. And when he makes a beckoning gesture with his hand, Hermione's legs nearly buckle beneath the weight of temptation. It takes all of her damnable discipline to straighten her shoulders and say, "It's not a joke. I love him," and somehow keep from choking on the words.

Ron looks less than convinced.

"That's rubbish and the whole world knows it." He takes a step toward her, his jaw set in the stubborn way she recognizes from Hogwarts, when they were preparing to go ten rounds over whether his essay was really ten inches or just nine and three-quarters. "Now, come out from behind there. This will go easier if you come quietly."

The words are threatening, but they make Hermione long to comply and give up control. It would be so much easier that way, to disappear with Ron and forget all the explanations and apologies. Once again the strength of temptation is alarming and Hermione wildly reminds herself that she can't do that. Not to Terry or her parents, not to the hundreds of guests who are already sitting in the church. She's made her promises and she has to keep them.

The inflexibility of that knowledge fortifies her, makes her crouch behind the chair, ready to make a break for it if the need arises.

"If you come any closer I'll scream, don't think I won't."

Ron crouches too, mimicking her posture with his hands at the ready. The sight, with Ron so awkward and tall, is absurd and at any other moment Hermione knows she would be enjoying a good laugh right about now. But she's never felt less like laughing in her life, and she can't quite believe it's come to this, considering they're supposed to be adults and all.

Desperate for a way out, Hermione tries to judge the distance between herself and the door, and gauge her chances of actually keeping out of Ron's reach. It doesn't seem likely, and she looks longingly at her wand, resting on the table just behind Ron, and wishes she'd kept it tucked in her dress.

It's a fatal mistake and, on some level, Hermione wonders if she meant it to happen. For as soon as her eyes leave Ron's he lunges toward her, leaping over the chair and toppling it in the process. In the first flurry of commotion Hermione makes good on her promise to scream, not because she actually wants to summon help but because Ron's attack is so sudden.

"Got you!" Ron crows triumphantly when his hands lock around her wrists with surprising strength. Hermione grunts and tries to yank free, but she's well caught. Ron's expression is smug with victory and Hermione supposes this is what a Snitch must feel like. "You don't know it yet, but this is the best thing that's ever happened to you."

Hermione wants to say something but she doesn't know whether to agree or not. But in the end her response doesn't matter because, before she has time to get any words out, she is overwhelmed by a familiar, squeezing sensation.

Harry can't believe they're actually doing this. Hermione is supposed to be getting married in – he looks at his watch – fifteen minutes, and they must be daft to try and whisk her away just before the start of the ceremony. It's immature and irresponsible, and smacks of all the ill-thought out hijinks the three of them got up to back at Hogwarts. During those times when Hermione's good sense failed to make a dent with him or Ron, anyway.

And though he should probably be ashamed to admit it, that's exactly the reason he didn't try to be the reasonable one and convince Ron to talk to Hermione before the day of her wedding. When the stakes and potential for disaster – not to mention the adrenaline rush – wouldn't be as high. He's missed this.

Beside him, Susan Bones, their third co-conspirator and new to this kind of excitement, looks like she is going to be ill. Her face is devoid of any color and she keeps glancing back at the antechamber door as if she wants to rush inside and warn Hermione about what Ron's trying to do. Everything about her screams 'wracked with guilt' and Harry has the urge to pat her head and reassure her like a small child.

"Susan." Harry has to repeat her name twice before she hears him and turns wide, terrified eyes his way. "They're going to thank us for this one day," he assures her, settling for patting her shoulder. "They might even thank us today."

"You really think so?"

Susan's voice is pathetically hopeful and Harry smiles like he doesn't have a doubt in the world.

"I really do. Look, what we're doing can't be worse than standing back and watching those two get married when they love other people. They might be angry at first, but they'll see it was for the best."

The petite ex-Hufflepuff lets out a long breath and turns her gaze toward the crowded pews of the church. She stares at them for a long moment, bottom lip caught between her teeth, and then Harry notices her eyes go to the unsuspecting groom, Terry Boot.

"We're doing the right thing," she says, a bit too firmly, weak smile pulling at her lips as she nods once.

Harry can tell she's still not convinced but she wants to be. He feels a pang of sympathy and tries to imagine what it must be like, going along with one of Ron's wild schemes for the first time. Terrifying, most likely. Susan's always struck him as a very good sort of person and she probably spent weeks tossing and turning over this.

As if Susan's tentative approval was the cue, a loud screech sounds from behind them, followed by an echoing crash. Susan starts, nearly toppling over, and Harry feels the blood drain from his face as the wedding guests whip their heads around to stare in their direction. Harry had hoped to avoid this much of a scene. He should have known better.

Within moments Boot and Mr. Granger are hustling from the front of the church toward the sounds of Hermione's distress. Harry braces himself and steps in front of the two men as they try to walk passed him.

"I'm afraid I can't let you go in there."

Mr. Granger blinks. "What?"

"Don't be daft, Potter. We heard a scream."

Boot tries to move passed Harry again, but Harry places a restraining hand on the other man's shoulder. "Look," he says, voice low, "we should go somewhere and talk."

For half a second Boot looks confused, like he doesn't understand what Harry's suggesting or why. Then, more quickly than Harry had hoped, a look of dawning realization widens Boot's eyes.

"Weasley's in there, isn't he!" Boot shoves harry in the chest with both hands, sending the slender ex-Seeker toppling backward. Gasps from the pew-dwellers rebound off the walls of the church and Harry notices at least a hundred hands lift to mouths already hanging open in shock. "That slimy git!"

"Boot, don't -" Harry doesn't know what he's going to tell Boot not to do, but the words are irrelevant anyway because Boot is through the door and stumbling into the antechamber before Harry can get to his feet. It takes only a moment for the former Ravenclaw to realize his chosen bride is no longer in the church, and Harry breathes a sigh of relief at the sight of the unoccupied room, grateful Ron managed to Disapparate in time.

The relief is short-lived, though, because Boot is stalking – there's no other word for it – toward Harry, his face contorted with rage.

"She's gone. Did Weasley take her? I knew he was in love with her. Did you two plan this together?"

The questions come hard and fast, but Boot doesn't wait for answers. Instead he reaches into his jacket, no doubt going for his wand.

Panicked, Harry makes a desperate grab for Boot's hand, but Boot dodges and somehow Harry's arm ends up draped awkwardly around the other man's shoulders. On instinct, Harry wraps his other arm around Boot's neck, forcing him to try and use both hands to throw Harry off. The two stagger around a bit, knocking against a pew and a stone wall, before crashing to the floor. Harry manages to land on top and pins Boot to the ground, wand thankfully stuck between Boot's body and the floor.

"The Muggles," Harry hisses, trying to be quiet so no one else will hear. "Think of the Muggles."

But Boot doesn't seem to care about the Muggles and he rocks back and forth, trying to dislodge Harry. "Get off me, Potter!"

"Harry?" Mr. Granger, joined now by Mrs. Granger, is looking between Harry and Boot as if he can't comprehend what is happening. "What's going on? Where is my daughter?"

Harry can't respond because Boot's picked up his efforts to break free, nearly bucking Harry off him. Irritated, Harry digs an elbow into Boot's back and pinches his ear, hard.

"Stop it, will you?" he grits out between harsh breaths. "You're making a scene!"

Boot's response is an enraged grunt, followed by an especially vicious attempt to knock Harry off his back. Harry holds on just barely, but loses his glasses in the process.

"Terry, stop it! And, Harry, let go of his ear!"

Harry's never heard Susan shout before, he doubts anyone has, but the reaction to it is instantaneous. Boot immediately stops struggling, Harry's fingers stop pinching of their own volition, and everyone else in the church goes still and silent. The effect is almost eerie.

Susan, with so many eyes staring at her, has less color in her cheeks than Sir Nicholas, but she lifts her chin, turns toward the Grangers, and says in a quietly reassuring voice, "Hermione's fine, you don't have to worry. But there's not going to be a wedding today."

"What?" Mrs. Granger puts a hand to her forehead and looks down at the two men on the floor. "Harry, what's going on? Is this true?"

Harry sighs and pushes himself to his feet, careful to keep himself an arm's length from Boot just in case he still has the urge to attack. He takes his glasses from Susan and sets them on his face before turning to Hermione's parents.

"Susan's right," Harry clears his throat, "the wedding's off. You see," Harry looks between Boot and the Grangers, "Hermione's in love with someone else."

Somehow, Hermione ends up sprawled inelegantly across the Burrow's kitchen floor. Ron hadn't meant to drop her, indeed, had thought he had an excellent grip on her person, but there she is anyway. Her face, no doubt twisted in outrage, is hopelessly lost in the folds of her train and skirt, but Ron can hear her sputtering in indignation while her hands grope frantically at the offending material.

The sight inspires a pinch of guilt, what with her being in her wedding dress and all, but mostly Ron's just amused. Considering she's likely to read him the riot act as soon as she can talk properly, he enjoys the sight of her flailing around a few seconds more before bending down to assist her.

"There now," he says cheerfully, when he's managed to put her back to rights.

"Ronald Weasley!" Hermione, huffing loudly and scarlet-cheeked, pushes herself angrily to her feet. Her hair, which Ron had thought rather pretty moments ago, looks like an animal has decided to rout around in it for a bit and attempt a nest. She shoves a floppy chunk of it out of her eyes, the better to glare at him. "You could have splinched me! What on earth were you thinking?"

"I was thinking you were making the biggest mistake of your life, that's what! And, as your friend, I was trying to help you." Ron yells because he thinks he should, not because he's actually as angry as he was earlier. In fact, if anyone cared to ask, he'd say he was feeling quite proud at the moment. Crashing a wedding can be a tricky business, but so far his plan has been executed to perfection. Hermione, ungrateful though she is at the moment, has been saved from making a disastrous mistake, she's been strategically relocated to the Burrow, Harry's no doubt got things under control at the church, Susan is there to comfort Terry, and, so far, no one has Apparated to the Burrow to hex his head off.

Perfection, indeed.

Hermione groans and puts a hand over her eyes, shaking her head. "Can you comprehend, for one moment, how much damage you've just done?"

"Damage?" Ron echoes, incredulous. "Hardly. We both know this was for your own good, not to mention the rest of the wizarding world," Ron shudders, "so you can save the disapproving professor act. I expect to be thanked properly for this, you know, once you've come to your sense." He nods firmly in the face of Hermione's disbelief. "Cannons' tickets would do the trick, I think. Season tickets, mind. Good seats, too."

Hermione rolls her eyes and it's a fairly dramatic gesture. "Noted," she says, voice thick with sarcasm. "Now, if you're finished hallucinating, I have to get back to the church. My parents must be horrified and Terry -"

Ron waves a dismissive hand. "Harry's taking care of that mess. And who cares about Boot, anyway? You certainly shouldn't." Hermione inhales sharply and opens her mouth, no doubt to demand what Ron's going on about, and he hurries to finish before she can start barking at him. "He's mad for Susan Bones. Has been for ages. He's probably relieved someone's run off with you, to be honest."

Hermione goes stiff and Ron can tell that she's working up a good head of steam. It crosses his mind to wonder, out loud, why she continues to stay with him and argue the point when she could end the discussion permanently by Disapparating back to the church. He discards the idea quickly, afraid it will give her ideas, and settles for crossing his arms over his chest and smirking.

"What the bloody hell is she doing here?"

The choked words cut off Hermione's tirade before it can start, and Ron and Hermione turn as one to see Ginny framed in the entryway of the kitchen.

She looks, Ron thinks as she stares at him with such intensity he swears he can feel a burning sensation between his eyes, an absolute mess. Her hair is pulled back in a lopsided ponytail that looks like it's about to fall out, her shirt has holes in it, and her hands and knees are crusted with mud.

Ron vaguely recalls her mentioning she was going to de-gnome the garden, something no one who isn't barking mad does voluntarily, and it dawns on him suddenly that she probably needed the distraction today. He wishes he'd thought to hint she should wash up a bit before the noon hour.

Still, what's done is done, and Ron smiles, sensing the last threads of his plan twining together. Chest puffed with pride, he smiles and says, "She's here because I brought her. The wedding is officially off and you," he gestures between the two of them, "can start living happily ever after."

Stony silence greets Ron's pronouncement, but he acknowledges neither Hermione's sickly expression nor Ginny's withering glare.

"Go on," he says after a prolonged, awkward moment in which neither woman moves. "It's obviously what you both want, so get on with it."

"Ron -"

"You know there was a reason I didn't go to that church today," Ginny snaps, interrupting Hermione. "I'm sorry, Hermione, I don't know what he was thinking. Just...just go away, go back to Boot. I'm sure that's what you want to do anyway."

The words are exactly what Ron was expecting but he still steps toward his sister, waving his arms. "Hang on! I went through a lot of trouble to get her here, you know. Do you think it was easy stealing her away from her own wedding?"

"You shouldn't have had to steal her!"

The words are shouted with such emotion that Ron and Hermione both recoil. Ginny, who looks to be on the verge of hyperventilating or hexing someone, makes a sound of pure frustration and turns on her heel and stomps out of the house.

Ron and Hermione are silent until they hear the sound of a slamming door. Then Hermione swallows audibly and says, "That wasn't encouraging."

It's not exactly a declaration from Hermione, or a promise that she's going to stop acting like an idiot about this, but it's enough to make Ron smile in relief.

"Well, you were going to marry Terry Boot. Boot," Ron says again, as if that cannot be emphasized enough. "It has to sting a bit."

"He was my fiancé," Hermione snaps, defensive. She narrows her eyes at Ron to emphasize her point, but when he meets her gaze without flinching she looks away. Ron watches her swallow twice before she says more quietly, "We were together long before...long before Ginny told me how she felt. She -"

"None of that matters anymore," Ron interrupts, afraid Hermione is going to divulge more information than he ever wants to know. "You and Boot are well on your way to being attached to other people, thank Merlin."

"You're telling me the truth?" Hermione demands after a thoughtful silence, her voice filled with a new intensity that has Ron seeing orange and Quaffles and seats at mid-field. "About Terry and Susan, I mean."

"Do you think I'd lie about something like that? Honestly, Hermione, they're almost as hopeless as you and Ginny." Ron gives Hermione a gentle shove toward the door. "Now get out of here and don't mess it up, yeah? And don't forget those tickets."

Susan never imagined herself the type to sabotage a wedding. The very idea goes against everything Hufflepuff stands for, spitting in the very faces of friendship, loyalty, and fair play. And Susan bones is nothing if not a Hufflepuff to the core.

At least, that's what she'd always believed. But then, last Wednesday, Ron Weasley sat beside her in the Ministry cafeteria and meticulously outlined a plan to disrupt her best friend's wedding, the event she had been dreading for more than six months. His words had rolled through her with the force of a revelation, electrifying her with an excitement she hadn't felt in years. She'd agreed to help him on the spot, not sure and not caring whether she was tapping into a heretofore unexplored inner-Gryffindor or inner-Slytherin.

Not that she'd had much to do with the actual disruption of the ceremony. That, thankfully, had been Ron's job.

No, her sole purpose in this affair is to act, if Ron is to be believed, as a comfort for Terry. Not, she doesn't like to think, as a consolation prize, but as a point on the horizon, something to look forward to.

"I'm going to go."

Susan looks up to see Harry standing above her. He'd been in the church speaking with Terry and the Grangers, giving them whatever answers he had about the day's events. Susan glances at her watch, surprised to see the whole talk lasted less than fifteen minutes.

"How did it go?" she asks, dreading the answer.

Harry shrugs. "They're surprised, confused, a little angry. There wasn't much I could say, but when Hermione reemerges I'm sure they'll all have a long talk."

"Most likely." Susan looks down at her clasped hands, the awkwardness of the situation making her feel sympathy-pangs for all the parties involved.

"Hey, remember this was for the best. We all want a happy ending for those two." Harry's face is suddenly split by a wide smile. "Speaking of happy endings, Hermione should be experiencing the wrath of hers right now. I think it's only fair Terry have his." Harry winks and Susan feels herself blush. "Good luck, Susan. And thanks."

Susan nods just before Harry Disapparates. The moment he disappears Terry walks out of the church, head bowed and hands shoved into his pockets. When he looks up he seems surprised to see her and Susan wonders if she should have left, if he'd rather be alone, but he makes his way to her side without hesitating.

"So." Terry settles next to Susan on the grass, stretching his not so very long legs out in front of him. He looks harassed, she thinks, with his wrinkled suit, frowning mouth, and his dark hair falling haphazardly across his forehead. Harassed, but still handsome. "She's really in love with someone else? And it's not Weasley?"

Susan shrugs, because she has no idea, really. She and Hermione have never been friends, at least not the kind who do more than nod and smile at each other when they pass through halls, be it at Hogwarts or the Ministry.

"That's what Ron and Harry tell me," she says carefully. It's hardly a guarantee, but Susan figures there are few people more reliable when it comes to Hermione's feelings. There's no reason to suspect the two men of lying, certainly not about something as important as this.

Susan refuses to acknowledge her ready belief might have its basis in desperate self-interest.

"I had no idea. None." Terry makes an inarticulate sound and lets his head drop back to stare up at the cloudless sky, a smile that looks like disbelief pulling at his lips. "But then, who does when it comes to women, eh?"

After the words leave his mouth, Terry seems to remember he's speaking to a woman and mumbles an apology. Susan accepts it gracefully, touched he should spare a thought for her feelings, and wishing she could offer him words of comfort that won't make her a hypocrite. Since she can't, she settles for placing a hand on his shoulder and rubbing it in soothing circles.

"You suppose I can get Weasley and Potter to pay for all of this?" he asks, motioning to the church behind him. "Seeing as it's their fault this all became a complete waste of money?"

"I don't know." Susan shrugs again, thinking she'd be liable for some of that cost, too, if that's how he's thinking.

"I suppose it would have been a waste of money no matter what happened, wouldn't it?" Terry turns to Susan and looks her in the eye for the first time since he's come outside. She can't be sure, but she thinks there might, just might, be a spark of actual amusement in his gaze. "I can't believe they abducted her. On our wedding day."

"You know what they say about desperate times."

"That I do." Terry scrapes a hand over his face. "Merlin. I suppose I should be grateful they did it with flair, shouldn't I? People are going to talk about this for years, anyway, why not make it worth a laugh?"

"I'm sorry, Terry," Susan says, responding to the bitterness she hears lurking beneath the light tone. "I can't begin to imagine how this feels."

"It doesn't feel good. But I don't know if it's my pride or my heart that hurts most." Terry shrugs. "Might be a draw."

"Are you going to try and win her back?"

It's the question Susan isn't sure she wants an answer to, but she has to ask it. Terry is silent for so long it makes her fearful that his feelings for Hermione are stronger than Ron thinks they are, but after a while he shakes his head.

"I don't know. I mean, I don't think so. She hasn't come back, has she, and I doubt Weasley is actually holding her captive. That's got to be a sign, hasn't it?"

Susan doesn't respond, instead asks, "Are you going to be all right?"

"I think so." Terry nods before absently taking Susan's hand, the one that had been rubbing his back. His hand is warm around hers and Susan can't help but stare at the way it nearly engulfs her own. "Honestly, I think I'm in shock at the moment. But, if she's in love with someone else then...then there's nothing to be done but be happy for her."

Susan squeezes his hand and nods because, of course, Terry would say something like that.

"One thing has occurred to me through all this mess, though," Terry says, his tone thoughtful. "And it's got me wondering."

"What's that?"

"What you're doing here."

Susan's stomach plummets and she squeezes Terry's hand again, this time without realizing it. "What do you mean? I was invited."

"I know you were, but you declined. Most of this whole," Terry waves the hand Susan isn't holding, "wedding business has been a blur, what with me only being the groom, but I remember that very well."

"Oh." Susan shifts uncomfortably, wishing that bit of information had slipped his mind during all the day's commotion.

"Just changed your mind, then?"

The easy, and likely appropriate, lie quivers on her lips, but she can't make herself say it. She decides to channel that inner-Gryffindor, or maybe that inner-Slytherin, she's been cultivating and be bold. "No," she shakes her head, "Ron changed it for me. He was quite persuasive, actually."

Terry's face blanks with surprise, then he nods knowingly, if a bit sadly. "Ah. Lured you in with the promise of a spectacle, did he?"

"No," Susan says again, her voice breathless and shaky from nerves. Terry notices and turns more fully toward her, his dark eyes a mixture of concern and curiosity. Susan thinks she falls in love with him even more, if such a thing is possible. How could she not, when he can look at her like that less than an hour after telling a church full of people that his bride-to-be has run off and their wedding's been canceled? She takes a deep breath. "He promised me I wouldn't have to watch you marry someone else."

Terry's eyes go wide and his lips part.

In what can only be described as a change of pace, Ginny's temper flare-up is flaming out before it can properly explode. She's a bit disappointed, as she'd planned to use the pyrotechnics blazing inside her to fuel her next discussion with Hermione, an event sure to be imminent. But just outside the house, bathed in the light of the very same sun that could have witnessed Hermione's wedding to that bloody Ravenclaw had the day gone very badly, Ginny's anger evaporates and leaves her nearly delirious with relief. The feeling is so overwhelming she actually has to bend at the waist and rest her hands on her knees while pulling long, deep breaths into her lungs.

Eyes shut tight, Ginny makes a half-hearted attempt to revive her anger, because she has pride and a healthy sense of self-worth and she thinks that, all things considered, she should be upset. Hermione was minutes from throwing their future away before Ron – of all people in the entire world – decided their happiness was worth the discomfort and embarrassment a spectacle might cause a handful of people in the short-term. People who, in the long-term, will all be better off.

And while it does irk Ginny, makes her think it's Hermione's turn to make the effort this go round and pursue her, she knows that's more about soothing her wounded ego than anything else. Life rarely unfolds like a fairy-tale romance and, even if it did, she's never been one to fantasize about some so-called perfect life with a perfect love. If she can have Hermione, well and truly and for the rest of her life, that's as perfect as she needs.

"Oh, bugger it," she says, finally deciding to turn around and march back into the house. Her brother stole the woman away from her own wedding for Merlin's sake, Ginny should be at least that determined to make Hermione see reason.

Ginny is reaching a hand for the screen door when it flies open and Hermione barrels out of it, running over Ginny in the process. The shriek of surprise that rips itself from her throat ends in a grunt when her backside connects hard with the ground.

"Oh! Ginny, I'm so sorry."

Hermione starts to grab Ginny by the shoulders but she pauses and stares uncertainly, as if afraid Ginny will protest the touch. Ignoring the questioning look, Ginny takes Hermione's outstretched hand and struggles to get to her feet before Hermione realizes she's supposed to be helping and gives a tug.

"I'm sorry," Hermione says again, eyes full of apology, and she sounds so earnest Ginny wonders if she's apologizing for more than just bowling her over.

It's a disturbing thought and Ginny has to shake off the fear that Hermione is trying to tell her – again – that she can't leave Boot. Mustering all the confidence she can, she says, "Forget what I said before, I'm not letting you go back to Boot."

The words, blunt and no doubt unexpected, make Hermione's eyes go wide and Ginny wonders if should have made the whole thing sound a little less inflexible. She doesn't want Hermione to think she's going to force her into a relationship, even if it's not that far from the truth.

"Ginny -"

"I'm sorry," she interrupts, needing to have her say, "I didn't mean for that to sound so scary. Look, I know the situation isn't exactly ideal, for either of us, but -" Ginny shakes her head, wishing the right words would just fall out of her mouth, "the thing is, I want a chance. You're clearly in love with me and my feelings for you have been well established. I know you don't want to hurt Boot, but isn't it more hurtful -"

"Ginny." Unexpectedly, Hermione takes Ginny's hand, silencing her. There is a look of quiet amazement on the brunette's face, like she's unable to believe how calm Ginny is after her earlier explosion, and there's a small, almost imperceptible smile curling one side of her mouth that warms Ginny almost as much as the touch of Hermione's hand. "I'm not marrying Boot. I have to go back to the church," she says quickly, when Ginny's mouth opens, "there are people I have to talk to, my parents and Terry to start, not to mention a hundred things that need to be done. But my getting married isn't one of them."

The words make Ginny's breath catch but they're only half of what she wants to hear and the anticipation has her near a breaking point. "And?" she asks, unable to hide her exasperation, torn between laughter and physically shaking Hermione's intentions from her lips.

Hermione squeezes her hand. "And yes, I do love you. For the record, I never told myself otherwise. I know it's easy for me to say now, but I should have been stronger for you. Both you and Terry deserved better. I'm sorry we didn't get to this moment the way we should have. Do you forgive me for being a coward?"

Ginny doesn't answer, at least not in words. Unable to hold off another second, she yanks Hermione forward and crushes the other woman to her in a hug made even tighter by relief and gratitude and love. And any thoughts she has that her grip is too tight are erased when Hermione's arms wrap around her in an equally tight embrace, her fingers digging into Ginny's shoulders.

"I take it this means I'm forgiven?" Hermione asks some minutes later.

Ginny chuckles and leans back, not relinquishing her hold on Hermione. "You're here. As far as I'm concerned there's nothing to forgive."

"But -"

"Hermione," Ginny says firmly, "stop it. I'm sure both of us could list ways we'd rather have handled this situation. For starters, I should have been the one to storm your wedding. The story's not nearly as romantic with Ron doing it."

The lightly teasing words do the trick and the lingering concern slides from Hermione's face. "When we tell the story we can always say it was you."

Ginny scoffs. "As if Ron would let us."

"Probably not."

Hermione looks like she wants to say something else, but Ginny isn't in the mood to listen. Frankly, she's disturbed Hermione wants to talk at all since she's already stated her intention of going back to the church to speak with Boot, and Merlin only knows how long that conversation will last.

To ward off any further attempts at conversation, Ginny pushes to her toes, lifts her chin, and presses her lips to Hermione's. It's soft at first, a gentle exploration, until, unexpectedly, Hermione deepens it. Delighted at Hermione taking the initiative, Ginny gives as good as she gets until Hermione reluctantly pulls away.

"I need to go," she says, voice soft.

"I know." Ginny smiles despite her regret, and it feels like the first real smile she's had in weeks. "I'll be here when you come back."

She kisses Hermione one more time because she can't help herself. Thankfully, Hermione doesn't mind.

Hermione wakes from her nap when a soft, familiar body presses itself against the length of hers. Making a sleepy sound of pleasure, Hermione stretches lazily, back arching, and opens her eyes to the sight of Ginny's soft smile. Hermione answers with a smile of her own and happily snuggles closer to the redhead, never one to pass up the opportunity to use Ginny as a pillow.

Even after five months, Hermione still marvels that she can be with Ginny like this. That she can touch her and hold her whenever she wants, and be touched and in return without having to worry about hurting anyone. There are some days when it all feels too good to be true, and maybe it is, but at least she's stopped worrying about when or if the other shoe will drop.

"I thought you said you weren't working too hard."

Ginny's quiet voice rouses Hermione from her thoughts.

"I'm not," she murmurs, knowing full-well she sounds exhausted. She clears her throat and tries again, and this time her tone is brisk. "I went to bed less than an hour after you did, you know. I'd like to see you get a good night's sleep when you spend half the night jerking awake in fear because you're about to be crowded out of bed."

Hermione's exaggerating, but Ginny doesn't have to know that.

"Trying to blame this on me, are you?" Ginny asks, her voice thick with amusement. "Is it really my fault I can't resist you, even while I'm sleeping?"

Hermione snorts and rolls her eyes, slipping one arm around Ginny's waist. "Really? And here I thought those elbows to my kidneys were your unconscious way of telling me to sleep somewhere else."

Ginny chuckles, the sound ending in pleased sigh when Hermione suddenly decides she's well awake and leans forward to press light, teasing kisses along Ginny's throat. "So you've picked the couch?"

"It's rather comfy. And it is closer to the library." Hermione smiles against Ginny's skin.

"Stop it," Ginny says, just as her hands slip beneath the hem of Hermione's shirt, "or are you trying to make me jealous of your books?"

"Is it working?"

Ginny doesn't answer. Instead she maneuvers them both until she is laying atop Hermione, her hips between Hermione's legs, and her lips pressing lightly against Hermione's. It feels wonderful, and Hermione experiences a rush of warm contentment when Ginny cups her cheek and begins to kiss along her jaw.

For just a moment, Hermione thinks about Terry and how close they came to ruining their own lives. She thinks about how much happier they both are, now that she's with Ginny and he's with Susan. And, yes, they endured their fair share of pain and humiliation and took far too long, but it's hard to have too many regrets when they both ended up exactly where they were meant to.

The last thing she thinks, before her entire world narrows to Ginny, is that she really does owe Ron a lifetime's worth of Chudley Cannons tickets.

The End.