A/N: I haven't written any fanfiction in ages. And it's 4.40am. So I won't be suprised if this is rather terrible.

Oh, and by the way, this is my first story since my user name change. I was Georgie Gryffindor, just so you guys know and aren't getting alerts from some strange author.


She knows it's unhealthy.

... but at age twenty-two, she doesn't expect her life to be so dramatically changed by a trip to Diagon Alley and a chance physical collision her recently married ex-kinda-boyfriend.

"Harry!" She cries as they collide with an 'oof.'

"Urgh, it's nice to see you too, Cho," the dark haired wizard says as he drags himself off Flourish and Blott's heavily stained wooden floor. He sounds grumpy, but he meets her face with a half-concealed smile and this actually seems a pleasant surprise to him.

"Harry," she repeats.

"Cho," he copies with a crooked grin, and runs his hand through his already scattered hair; there is a glint of gold on his fourth finger that shimmers dully in the heavily filtered sunlight. "It's been a while. How have you been?"

She grins and shrugs her shoulders non-commitingly. "Ah, you know, same as ever. Not as good as you though, obviously. I heard about you and Ginny. Congratulations."

He beams at this, not just the beam of a newlywed, but the beam of someone who is also slightly surprised with the lack of malice in her voice. "Thanks," he says, grinning like only a fool in love can.

There's a silence here, and although it's not nearly as awkward as some of their past silences have been, Cho longs to fill it with something, anything. She can't help but think he must feel the same.

"So, what are you getting?" She asks him, gesturing aimlessly to the forgotten book, lying face down on the floor. He blushes slightly.

"Well, it's kind of embarrassing really," he explains as he picks it up, offering her a fleeting view of the cover. His face is mirrored on the glossy front, and there is text stamped across his forehead in a shade of emerald green that almost matches his eyes. The title rather loudly proclaims: Harry Potter: The Boy who Lived to the Chosen One. The story of how the baby became the saviour and all the misguided steps in between. An expose by celebrated author, Rita Skeeter.

Cho raises her eyebrows at this. "Keeping updated on what the enemy is saying, Harry?"

"No," he blushes again. "Ginny wants to read it. Hermione told her it was good entertainment, but this is our third copy because the ever infamous bat-bogey curse has torn the previous two to pieces."

"I see," is all Cho can muster at this.

"What the wife wants, the wife gets, you know?"

"I know," she says with a grin, yet feels an old emptiness churning up inside to see how strangely happy he is. This is Harry Potter she was talking to. He wasn't supposed to be happy. He was the broody boy who suffered in silence and put everything on the line for others. This wasn't how it was supposed to be.

"With much luck, this will be the last time I have to come and buy the same stinking book though," Harry smiled. "She's almost done. Got a bit angry at the part when it started talking about, oh, what was the phrase? her 'social priorities' and the difference between a marriage for love and one for convenience. Wasn't very pretty."

"Have you read it too then?" She asks, and something that she had never thought would occur suddenly pops into her mind.

"No," he sighs, and she knows he is thinking about it too. "I... I know the general gist of it though, you could say." He watches her warily, almost in a silent plea to ask the question that is about to follow.

"Did I make the cut?"

"Yes," he says in a hushed voice. "You did."

"Did he?"

"Yes," he swallows.

"And?"

"You know as well as I do that Rita Skeeter can put two and two together."

Cho could only nod.

"It's... it's not too bad though," Harry tells her rawly. "Actually, I'm a liar, it's terrible. Luckily, Rita Skeeter can also make two and two equal five, and fortunately she is a lot more focussed on Hermione and Krum. I believe the chapter is actually titled 'The Triwizard Tournament and Tumultuous Relationships'.

"It's really not that bad though I suppose," he continues. "It doesn't bad-mouth you, only me. And it's respectful to him. Small allowances though I guess. I would have hunted her down personally if she wasn't."

They stand in silence for another moment, the dust floating through the air heavily, illuminated in the patchy sunlight that seeps past the rickety blinds. Despite the other thoughts and feelings that have yet again resurfaced in her mind and heart, she feels almost cheated that they didn't have this conversation six years ago when she had needed it most.

"It's... it's just that it doesn't seem fair," she says, and rather shockingly her voice cracks slightly.

"It never is," he tells her in what begins as a whisper but works its way up to a frustrated snarl. "We shouldn't be standing here talking about whether or not your great tragedy made my biography. Your tragedy never should have been near mine. Merlin, if we were playing fair, you shouldn't even have a bloody tragedy to talk about at all."

"This should be a reunion of old Quidditch mates, not a moping session," she agrees.

"You should be complaining about how you could never get a snitch on either of us, and I should be trying to maintain that the only way I ever lose a game is if I'm unconscious." He snorts out the last syllables in a derisive laugh, and she can't help but grin at the irony too.

"We should be talking about work or something equally as trivial."

"I should be telling two people about Ron and Hermione's latest fight or something."

"I should be happy and not be living for seven year old memories. I should be thinking that some part of my life actually matters."

This ends all joking.

"It matters, Cho," Harry tells her.

"I know. But sometime it feels like it doesn't." She exhales deeply. "We should probably lighten up now."

"Cho..." She rolls her eyes as he continues to stare at her sadly.

"Don't worry about me, Harry," she tells him. "I'm fine, really. I just get a little depressed from time to time. I... I think I'm over it, and then it all come back and ruins me all over again. I just wish I could forget and move on."

He makes a clicking noise from the back of his throat. "It doesn't work like that."

"You think? Six years on and I'm still struggling as if it had all happened last week."

He watches her for a moment, before starting very slowly and forcefully. "There are things that you can't forget, Cho. Things you can never get over."

"Is this meant to be making me feel better?"

"Shut up and listen," he smirks before continuing. "There are things that you can never move on from. Merlin, I know this better than anyone." He rolls his eyes at this. "You have to find a way to cope somehow though."

"How? Repression hasn't been working so well for me, you see. Plus it makes me feel so incredibly guilty as well."

"Well, you have to find a way to cope without trying to forget it all then. Personally, I like to offer my life up as sacrifice for the good of others while thinking of some truly terrible names for kids I may have. George Weasley and Angelina Johnson have just got engaged. They're using each other, and somehow, neither sees it as settling for something less. You did muggle studies, right?"

"Uh, yes, I did," she says, recoiling in shock at his question while she tries to absorb some meaning of what he had said previously.

"Ginny and Ron never did it, despite Arthur's begging," Harry says in a tone that is clearly trying to get some meaning across to her. "So Hermione has been on a muggle kick lately, trying to give them a better understanding of the muggle world. I don't think it's working very well, but both of them are enjoying the movies. We go pretty much every second night, and saw one that I think you would enjoy the other night." He rummages through his large robe pockets for a moment before procuring a scrap of muggle paper and he pushes it into her hands.

"Look, I've got to go, Cho, Ginny will be waiting for this garbage," Harry smiles, waving the book around lazily. "We should get all of the DA out for a drink sometime. I'll get Hermione to organise something. Make sure you see that movie, okay?"

Harry seems to disappear before Cho gets a chance to blink. After shaking her head a few times to try and rid herself of this confusion, she glances down at what Harry gave her, which she now realises is an old movie ticket.

Admit One Adult
7.30 Session
Twilight



She climbs into bed that night contently. She rolls around for a few minutes, trying to get comfortable before she settles on her back, staring up towards the heavens.

She knows it's unhealthy, but somehow she can't feel too bad when this young muggle (Edward was it? Or Robert?) who so resembles her Cedric is staring down at her; a large, still muggle poster held to the ceiling by a permanent sticking charm.


A/N: I really don't know where this came from. Actually, well, it came from my adoration of RPattz's rather fine figure. And my total devastation when I realised of what wonders poor Cho had been deprived of. Other than that, I'm sure this is rather terrible. It's angst with a side dish of mild crack, and I'm really not sure how this works.