For the FRIENDS Comp, the choose-your-wand challenge, and for the Different Prompts challenge.

I can acknowledge that I was wrong. My question is simple. Can he?

At two in the morning, the Leaky Cauldron is more crowded than I would expect, but even the wizarding world has a night life, I guess. I sit in the booth near the back, where hopefully there won't be much traffic. I bite my lip and look around, taking a deep breath. I wish he would show up already, for Harry's sake, if not for mine.

Harry is so tired of fighting. I don't really blame him.

"Did you want anything, miss?"

I glance up at the witch, who's standing at the edge of my table with a sour, put-upon look on her face. Her eyes widen when she looks at my face. "Hermione Granger," she breathes. I sigh.

"Two shots of firewhiskey and whatever you'd recommend on the menu," I order, picking at my nails. She nods frantically and scuttles away, glancing over her shoulder. She walks into a table.

I miss the days when I wasn't famous. It's exhausting.

"Err, hey, Hermione," a voice says anxiously. My eyes flick in the other direction, and there he is.

In the dull light, his red hair is muted to a brownish copper, and his freckles can't be seen. He's pale, tall, and dressed casually, and my heart cinches the longer I look at him. I fell in love with him when I was sixteen and now, at eighteen, those feelings aren't changed. "Ron," I greet, and gesture to the opposite side of the booth. He sinks into the seat and opens his mouth.

"I'm sorry, Hermione."

It's been two months since we called off our engagement. He's hurting as much as I am. His voice cracks on the words, and I soften. "Me too," I say quietly, and reach across the table. He takes my hand eagerly.

"I. Um. I want-"

The waitress arrives with my two shots, which she sets in front of me. "Your food will be ready in ten minutes, miss. Was there anything you wanted?" she asks Ron, looking at him, clearly excited that he's here with me. News of our meeting will likely be all over the Daily Prophet tomorrow morning. I sigh inwardly, my lips thinning.

"Ah, whatever she's having," Ron mutters, and she nods and takes off. Ron returns his gaze to me and he looks both hopeful and sad, all at once. "I want another chance, if you're willing," he whispers, as if he doesn't want me to hear. But in this quiet alcove, anything he says comes through clearly.

I swallow heavily and pretend like I hadn't know he would ask. "On a few conditions," I say carefully. "And, of course, you're welcome to lay some down for me," I add hurriedly at his resigned look. "You're not the only one at fault, and I can be- difficult."

"Okay. Lay 'em on me," Ron says. I hand him one of my shot glasses and he takes it with a quicksilver grin, eyes dancing. We drink.

"Never fails to get me," I say. "Now, um. I don't want you to bottle everything up anymore. You have to talk to me- communication is vital to make a relationship work." Ron nods, not looking upset at this, so I move on with some confidence. "I'm not always right," I say, and he looks shocked. I roll my eyes. "So if you know I'm wrong- or I make an assumption and you don't like it- tell me, but don't yell at me. Be reasonable. And lastly," I finish, and now he looks a little weary, "Just. Just remember why we fell in love in the first place and remember that you thought I was worth it, once. I'll do the same."

Ron nods. He says, "I couldn't have said it better, as always, Hermione. And I never forgot that you're worth it. I just. Misplaced it."

It's such a Ron thing to say that it startles a laugh out of me. He smiles tentatively. "Um. By the way, I'm sorry. You know. About Crookshanks. He wasn't so bad, in the end."

I smile at him and nod to the waitress when she puts two plates in front of us and then leaves without a word. She has tact.

"Thank you."

It's silent for a little while, as he and I eat. He looks nervous, still. "What's wrong?" I ask finally, and he looks at me and seems to focus.

"I can't believe this isn't a dream," he whispers. "I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you too, Ronald. We'll make this work."

He nods. "Okay."

…

"Ron and I got back together."

Harry glances up at me and smiles. "Finally. At what cost?"

I shrug, glancing down at his couch and picking at a stray thread. "We agreed communication would be best. It would help. Gah. Would make things better."

"Ginny will kill you if that comes undone," Harry mentions, and I drop the string and bite at my inner lip.

A hand rests on my knee and I glance up at Harry. He smiles encouragingly. "It's been rough since you two stopping talking, I'll give you that. But you're my sister anyway, I hope you realize that."

I release a breath and some tension leaves my shoulders. Until he pointed it out, I didn't even realize it was a concern. "Thank you, Harry," I say, and he nods and releases me.

"So did you take the ring back?" he asks, turning to the door when Ginny wanders in with Teddy clinging to her leg. "Hey, Gin," he says. She leans over and kisses him quickly, and the ruby on her engagement ring flashes in the light.

"Hi," she says. Then she stands and turns to me. "Thanks for putting a stop to my brother's irritating pining. He's been the most obnoxious of the lot of them for weeks."

I laugh. "By the way," Ginny continues. "He wants to buy you another cat. He says he'll call it Crookshanks the Second."

Harry bursts out laughing. I smile, genuinely. Ron's ridiculous. Ginny smirks and ruffles Harry's hair as she scoops Teddy into her arms and says. "Let's go to Nana's, yeah, kiddo?" Teddy cries in delight, flapping his arms the way children do. "Yeah!" Ginny choruses, then, "See you at dinner."

"Bye, Gin," Harry says. "Bye, Teddy. Love you both."

"We love you, too," Ginny says, holding Teddy's hand and waving at Harry with it. I crack a smile as he waves back. Teddy giggles and then he snorts, surprising himself. Ginny laughs so hard she nearly drops him, while Harry and I wave, also chortling with amusement.

Ginny's gone in a rush of Floo powder, the fire consuming them. The living room goes silent. Then Harry repeats his earlier question. "Did you take the ring back?"

I hesitate, then say, "He didn't offer. I would've, had he, but he didn't."

Harry's eyebrows shoot up into his hairline. "He's taking things slow, then?"

"I guess," I say. Harry shakes his head.

…

"So. Crookshanks the Second?" Ron asks, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his robe. He rocks back on his heels and looks at the yellow cat in my arms wearily.

I shake my head with a grin. "No. I was thinking- just something simple- Max?"

"Max," he repeats dubiously. He looks at me, then the cat, and then he sighs. "Max it is."

"You don't like that name," I say, and he shrugs.

"'S not my cat."

I sigh, and press the cat into his arms. He takes him automatically, and the cat turns in his arms and reaches for Ron with a soft paw. He pats Ron's nose and Ron goes cross eyed trying to follow the movement. "He's our cat, so if you'd rather another name…?" I say, and Ron's too busy scratching at the cat's ears and smiling when he gets head butted to pay me much attention.

"How about Cat?" Ron suggests, and I snort. He snickers. "Never mind. That's lame anyway. Max is fine."

"If you're sure," I say, taking Max back when Ron has to get his wallet out.

"Ten galleons," the man behind the counter says.

Ron frowns. "Said eight on the cage," he says.

The man sighs and points at Ron's shoulder. "So you don't want the pygmy puff?"

Ron glances over and I look at the little blue and pink ball of fuzz that seems to have attached itself to Ron in the past two minutes. It squeaks and tries to hide in Ron's shirt. "Aye, I guess the pygmy puff, too," Ron sighs, and hands over ten galleons, his other hand gently patting the pygmy puff absently. I smile to myself.

The man huffs a laugh and Ron and I walk out of the shop, owls screeching and flapping their wings at us. "Oh hush," I scold, and most of them quiet down, looking insulted.

"You're incredible," Ron says, and I look at him. He flushes. "I. I mean. You're always pretty, ah, pretty great, and I mean, it just kind of stood out, you know, right then…"

I stop him and tug him to the side of the walkway. He's bright red, not looking at me, but when I lean up to kiss him, he tugs me close as the cat claws his way to my shoulder to avoid being squished. I sigh into Ron's mouth and tangle my fingers into the shirt over his shoulder blades, my eyelids fluttering.

It's always felt right, being here, in Ron's arms. I don't know why I let him go. Being right or wrong doesn't matter, not when I love him.