Reuploaded this because I needed to tweak a couple things. Same story, plot, characters, etc. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: JK Rowling is the brains behind the operation. I'm just working some of the machines.

Chapter 1

I was 17 and a bit years old when I first met the love of my life. But it wouldn't be until I was 27 when anything was done about it. Many people in my family thought I was just a late-bloomer (or would otherwise turn out like my great Uncle Charlie who never got married but did have one boy well into his 40s with a Muggle who died in child birth) because I had not yet felt that intense magical feeling flow through my veins indicating I have found 'the one'. They all thought it was the boy I was best friends with throughout my time at Hogwarts, Zachary Wood. Hell, even we thought that, which was why we gave it a try during sixth year. But alas, he found his love during seventh year after the Headmaster implemented the exchange programme with Beauxbatons. She's a great girl, honestly, unbelievably and inhumanly pretty and I really am happy for him. Perhaps that would explain my lack of interest in him, myself? Still, I was his Best Woman, and am now the Godmother to their two children.

My grandmother, Hermione Granger-Weasley and my mother, Rose Weasley-Malfoy, found their loves during their times at Hogwarts, and both of their stories are ridiculous. Who the hell fights that much as teenagers and claims they are friends and eventually, lovers? I was always having fun with Zachary! However, the day after graduation from Hogwarts found us at the Leaky Cauldron enjoying a pint together with his girlfriend of nearly nine months and a mutual girl friend of ours, Willa, who, by the way, was already chatting.

"It's gonna be sad, leavin' that place. We literally went through puberty in there," she said, her eyes glossed over with reminiscence and Firewhiskey.

"Leave it to Willa to remember the important things of Hogwarts." I roll my eyes, taking another long swig of my own Firewhiskey. "How about you? What do you remember most, Zach?"

"Oh, I can certainly tell you…" he looked lovingly at Iva, his French girlfriend, sitting next to him, who in response, blushed under his intense gaze.

I immediately regretted the question. "I get it, you're in love. Don't rub it in for the rest of us."

"Oh, Charleeze, you vill find your prince ven ze sun is up and your 'eart is centered." Iva took my free hand in hers, her eyes filled with compassion for my well-being, but I'm pretty sure that's the Firewhiskey.

"Tha's a little too poetic fir our dea', Charlie," came the voice of my ex-boyfriend from the beginning of sixth year, Thomas Watson, from behind me. He slapped a hand on my shoulder, shaking my drink enough to where it spilled.

"Oi! That's my drink you just spilled! You owe me a new one, eh."

"Like hell, I do! This girl, no idea what she's in for these days. Good shag, I won't deny butcha gotta keep your head down, it'll be good for ya." He winked at me. What a fucking bastard! I throw my fist in his face and he catches it, holding it high above my head where his own shoulder meets my elbow. "Still a feisty one. Want another shag?"

I'm gonna kill him! "You fucking arsehole."

"You do want to shag! You're only this angry when you want a good fuck!" He grins at me with relish, and it's so unfortunate that I'm shit-faced, I don't know what I'm doing until I realize I'm in the back alley with my pants off, my face pressed against the stone wall, getting shagged relentlessly from behind by my ex-boyfriend from the beginning of sixth year. I can feel his tight, muscular Quidditch body rubbing deliriously against my own warm, muscular Quiddtich back. I feel a whack on my left butt-cheek and am thrown to my knees and he stands in front of me and forces his prick into my mouth. I swallow everything he gives me and when I don't stand up immediately, he holds out his hand and says, "Just like I remember when we were sixteen. You were delicious then, you're fucking unbearable now."

"The fuck's that mean?" I look him in the eye as I button my trousers.

"It means I never thought you would be who you are today. You literally just let me shag you in a deserted alleyway, where anyone could see us."

"I'm still drunk. Only way I could've let you inside me again."

"I think we should do this again."

"Ya think?" I look at him, expectantly.

"Absolutely. I meant what I said. You're a great shag."

"You said I'm good."

"Well, you're great. I don't want to share that with anyone, yet."

We walk back into the pub and Zachary looks at us, all disheveled, and heartily laughs. I blush furiously and smack him on the head. "Shut up."

Iva looks at him and says, "She's right, you know."

"Thank you, Iva. At least someone is on my side."

"Ve gals must steeck togeza." She smiles at me and I smirk back.

Then I feel a squeeze on my arse and turn around to see that stupid-arse ex of mine still hovering over me. He is at least eighteen inches taller than me and his muscles make him look like a Muggle rugby player. He may be a wicked cunt by personality, but certain parts of his anatomy make me shiver even thinking about it. Maybe I will keep him around a while…

I sit down and Thomas goes to the bar to order us a couple more drinks. Anymore of this and I'll be completely useless, even at sex. He comes back 'round and sits down with the four of us. Willa looks at Thomas curiously but I don't ask why. But then my unasked question is answered, "Thomas, how big are you?"

This simple question invokes ridiculous reactions from all of us expect Thomas. He puts the Firewhiskey he had to his mouth down on the table and looks at her with an eyebrow raised, "What do you mean?"

"Your body. How tall are you and how much do you weigh?" Willa asks unblushingly. Obviously she has no idea what her question sounded like.

"Oh. I'm six feet, seven inches. Just about twenty stone."

"Bloody hell, you're massive," I look at him in awe.

"That's right." He winks at me and I shiver.

Just then we hear a fight break out on the other side of the pub and we turn to look at the interruption. A slightly muscular man with flaming red hair and a Firewhiskey gut has acquired a bloody nose from a very tall and slender man with long brown hair in a ponytail. Both men look completely pissed and the ginger has a younger girl (looks like someone we graduated with just yesterday) trying to get him to walk away but he shoves her off and walks out of the pub anyway before the bar-keep can say anything. The man with the brown ponytail looks around awkwardly, but also leaves the pub. What I wouldn't know until years later is that the ginger would eventually be my husband and the father of my four children.