End of the Tunnel

XII

Ron and Hermione's wedding came two months later.

While some may have assumed it was because the young love birds couldn't wait to get married, the rest of the Weasley offspring knew it was all about avoiding Mrs. Weasley's love of overplanning.

George was helping his brothers hoist the tent, just as they had done for Bill two years before, and Hannah, upon Hermione's request, was speaking to the Grangers. When she had first approached them, they had been nervous, and then relieved when she slipped in the small detail about her blood. It seemed Hermione didn't have a lot of family, and had Hannah not been there, they would have been the only muggles in attendance. Truly, a daunting prospect.

Eventually the vanished to get ready for the ceremony, and their seats were replaced by the ever-radiant Fleur Delacour. Until that moment Hannah had only heard stories about George's sister-in-law but there was no time to stare in speechless awe. Never one to be rude, Hannah introduced herself.

"Hannah Gladdis."

"Oh yes, I know you," Fleur said, "You're my next sister-in-law, yes?" Hannah could only blink in shock. "You are with George, no?"

"Yes, yes, I'm with George, I just didn't know people thought we were engaged."

"Are you not?"

"No, we're not."

"In time."

"I'm not sure about that, I'm not sure his mother likes me much," she admitted awkwardly, and Fleur let out a soft laugh before taking her hands with her own.

"It does not matter if his mother likes you, it does not matter if his sister or his brothers like you, it does not even matter if his great aunt Muriel likes you. Does George love you?"

"Yes, yes I think so."

"Do you love him?"

"With every bit of me."

"Then you will marry him."

"But-."

"They called me Phlegm."

"What?"

"His sister called me Phlegm. Hermione said it too. Even his mother let it slip a few times. And yet I remain."

"That's terrible."

"It is life, and it is how I know that it does not matter if they all hate you. It does not matter if you are a muggle. It does not matter if you are part goblin. If George loves you half as much as Bill loves me, you will marry him." Hannah stared at her, swelling with her assurance. She let her eyes wander to George, dressed in his best suit as he chased a small toddler waddling across the lawn, sighing softly. "I look forward to your wedding, Hannah," she said, standing, smoothing out the red satin of her dress before joining her husband close to the front row. Hannah watched as she pulled her child onto her lap, kissing the white tufts of hair with incredible fondness. Bill wrapped an arm around his wife and Hannah smiled, they were a perfect portrait of love, one that she couldn't help but feel a tinge envious of.

The envy couldn't last long though, not when George appeared, having given up his chase.

"Fleur wasn't scaring you away, was she?" he joked, and Hannah quickly shook her head.

"Definitely not."

"Good, wouldn't want my family fighting." They both blushed at his choice of words but said nothing as he linked their fingers together pulling her towards their seats. As they sat his hand found knee and gently tilted them closer.

They sat in comfortable silence as the chairs filled up around them. Sloane and Draco slipped into seats beside them, maintaining their invitation from a drunk Ron. Draco hadn't been sure about coming, but Sloane had insisted, she wasn't going to miss the marriage of two war heroes. The unlikely group didn't say much as the final seats filled, and the pianist struck the first note of a classical song Hannah didn't recognize.