And then Molly Weasley was bustling up and hugging her boy, and Hermione was pushed back further into the throng of well-wishers, discombobulated and choked up with happy tears, sad tears, nostalgic tears – she was a veritable sea of every emotion possible, but she kept it all locked tightly down, eyes shimmering but not overflowing. The guests were sweeping their chairs to the sides and stacking them neatly, opening the gazebo up into a dance floor, and music started playing – not a band, they couldn't get a band of course, but a record.