A/N: Hi there, I hope everyone's still on board with me! (: Here's this week's chapter! x

Chapter 2

At the sound of the doorbell, Hermione waved her wand and all the tealight candles she had spent the past ten minutes arranging around her sitting room lit up. Smoothing down the long paisley skirt she wore, she made her way to the front door and threw it open. Standing there clutching a paper bag to her chest and grinning widely was Ginny Weasley.

"Hello, stranger!" she exclaimed, moving into Hermione's outstretched arms.

Unmindful of the package in her friend's arms, she gave the red-head a crushing hug. Ginny's greeting was not quite an exaggeration; the girls had not seen each other since before Ron and Hermione's break-up. The youngest Weasley had been caught up with Quidditch training for the upcoming season and was currently in the midst planning for her upcoming nuptials as well - this was a rare break for her.

"I made pizza," Hermione announced, taking the paper bag and leading the way into the kitchen.

Ginny, well acquainted with Hermione's culinary skills (or lack thereof), was not fooled for a moment. "You mean you "made" instant pizza, right?"

Hermione laughed and had the good grace to look abashed. "You caught me," she admitted. She glanced down at the paper bag she held. "What did you bring?"

"Mum insisted on sending along some peach cobbler and there's a bottle of champagne," she answered.

Ginny brought the pizza to the living room while Hermione pulled the bottle of bubbly out. "Champagne? What's the occasion?" Grabbing a couple of flutes and an ice bucket from the cupboard, she joined Ginny on the sofa.

"Nothing," shrugged Ginny. "That bottle is from a crate Fred brought to Grimmauld Place awhile back - one of his big clients sent it as thanks - but I don't get to indulge when training season is on. Besides, I thought you could use a little pick-me-up anyway - I heard from Harry your work's piling up at the Ministry."

Hermione nodded as she tapped the edge of the ice bucket with her wand until it filled with the right amount of ice. Satisfied, she set the bottle in it to chill.

"All the heads of departments are breathing down everyone's necks right now because of the recent imbroglio with the Belgian ministry, but my boss is especially high-strung - he wants us to submit our reports ay-sap so he can go over them personally before sending them to the American ministry... and they'll be closing soon for Thanksgiving! On top of that, we're supposed to try to get all our presentations for a temporary wizarding expat settlement in Brussels over before Christmas." Hermione exhaled heavily, extending a plate to Ginny. "It's almost impossible."

Ginny tutted sympathetically. "Your work stories never fail to make me thankful that I don't have to deal with any paperwork or bureaucratic redtape. I think I'd lose my mind within a week and start hexing all those poncy officials and their subordinates. I imagine it would be like having to work with Percy - only much worse," she suppressed a shudder. "Well, if anyone can survive the pressure, it's you," she said sincerely.

"Thanks. We're just so snowed under, one of my colleagues has taken to saying that if we manage to sort things out by Thanksgiving, she'll never be more grateful for anything else again." Hermione settled back into the sofa, curling her legs under her as she took a bite out of her pizza. "And what have you been up to?" she enquired.

"The usual," Ginny shrugged. "Right now we're training the new beaters and substitute players and I'm officially up to my eyeballs with organizing the wedding. I mean, it's a lot harder than it really should be because, well, you know my mother. Ginevra, you only get married once; it should be really special! Or, you should let Fleur give you a hand - you know she's kind enough and more than willing."

The red-head's impression of the Weasley matriarch was spot on and Hermione let out a laugh, a piece of pineapple flying out of her mouth and landing on the couch in between them. She promptly murmured Evanesco under her breath, Vanishing it.

"Even if I end up having to get married barefeet in a potato sack and serving our guests broth, I'm not letting Phlegm anywhere near the planning. Funny thing is, Harry's also gotten rather caught up in it and you know he usually clocks out when it comes to these things. At this point now, I'm so tired with chosing the flowers for the aisles, the table centrepieces, the bouquet - coordinating the napkins to the flowers and whatnot. Does anyone notice, really?

"Sometimes when mum's going on about something like the first dance or whatever and I start feeling particularly annoyed, I feel like telling her that Harry and I will just elope. Or announcing that the wedding's off after all, like -" Ginny stopped talking abruptly, realizing her faux pas. The future Mrs Potter wanted nothing more at that moment than to jump in front of a speeding bludger. "Oh my God, Hermione, I'm so sorry."

"Don't worry about it," Hermione said too quickly, trying to smile and shrug it off but Ginny could read her friend better than that.

"No, seriously, could I have been more tactless?" said Ginny, wincing. "Enough with the wedding - how have you been, really?"

Hermione felt an unbidden lump form in her throat and froze mid-chew. It seemed like a loaded question that could easily lead to other loaded questions, and she wasn't sure if she was capable of answering her friend without bursting into tears or hurling things at the wall.

"Hermione?" Ginny prodded. "We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. I just want to know how you're coping, at least."

Hermione swalllowed and shook her head. "No, it's all right. I'm sorry. I mean, I knew it would come up tonight, I don't know why I'm as surprised as I am."

She put her plate down and reached for the champagne, not caring that it probably wasn't even properly chilled yet. She swiftly poured it out and gulped everything down at once. Remembering her manners, she grabbed her wand off the table and gave it a wave that could only be described as haphazard, causing the bottle to rise into the air and move towards the second glass. It missed its mark by a wide margin, causing a splash of champagne to spill into her lap. It took another couple of tries before she managed to properly direct and tip the bottle over Ginny's flute. After a hasty Evanesco to remove the spill, she refilled her own glass and leaned into the cushions, a contemplative look stealing over her face.

"Well, I'd be lying if I said I was fine," she said slowly, "but I have found ways to deal with it."

"Is that so? You mean you haven't been withdrawing from all your friends and throwing yourself into work?"

Hermione opened her mouth to protest but Ginny cut her off, "Harry's genuinely concerned, you know. He says you rarely let him drop by and you never visit Grimmauld Place anymore. Plus, you almost never reply to his letters. You've been avoiding."

"That's not true," said Hermione immediately although without any real conviction.

"Really? What do you call what you've been doing then? It sounds like you're still wallowing and you know it."

Indignation rose up in Hermione. "Well, I was seeing someone -" she started, before realizing her mistake.

"Was?" Ginny quirked an eyebrow.

Oops. Hermione poured out more champagne for herself and threw back half the contents of her glass. "We just had, uh, too many, differences. We talked, it didn't work out - we broke up."

"Hermione, you need to try and move on and charging into another relationship is not what I mean. Have you even started packing up Ron's things?" She looked at Hermione with her eyebrows raised. "You're not spiteful enough to just toss it all out, but you haven't sent it back either. I know because I overheard that bugger whinging the other night about how he really needs his lucky sweater back."

Finally, Hermione dropped her gaze. "The truth is, I'm not sure I've even fully processed what happened."

Right after having dumped her, Ron had dropped any pretense of discretion. If not for Harry taking it upon himself to break it to her after Ron had brought his new girlfriend round to Harry's place, she might not have appeared as nonchalant as she had been when her colleagues and even the staff from a few of the neighboring departments, learned the news. Whenever anyone had taken her hand or touched her arm and murmurred words of support, she had shrugged as if it was merely a small annoyance, akin to misplacing her house keys, the nonchalant expression on her face never wavering. Her self-possessed manner was only a facade though; she was still given to waking up in the middle of the night on occasion, her heart twisting and clenching in her chest in a most disagreeable manner.

Now, in front of one of her oldest friends, the affectation that came so easily to her in front of strangers was harder to pull off. The truth was, she had loved Ron with all her heart for years only to find it coming to this. Still, having her devotion flung back into her face was nothing compared to the way he had spectacularly deceived and betrayed her. Whenever she thought back to the vacation they had taken just before he thrown everything away, she still felt the slowburn of humiliation at how obtuse she had been. Then, parading that floozy around already was practically twisting the knife in deeper and rubbing her face in it - his treachery was complete.

"Hermione!" Ginny's alarmed voice came to her from a distance.

Blinking, she realized hot tears were streaming down her face. She accepted the napkin Ginny proffered and swiped at her face, angry at herself for having broken down.

Ginny had put her own plate down and scooted over, putting her arms comfortingly around Hermione. Unable to stanch the tears which were coming steadily now, she leaned into her friend's embrace as her body heaved with the sobs that were coming freely.

When Hermione finally lifted her head from Ginny's shoulder, her face was puffy and her eyes were blodshot.

"I'm so sorry for going to pieces like that," she rasped, scrubbing her face with her hands.

"Rubbish, no need to apologize," said Ginny briskly. The redhead summoned two glasses and a bottle of Firewhiskey that she knew Hermione kept stashed in the cupboard under the sink for times just like this and poured out a generous amount for the both of them.

The girls sat without speaking for a few minutes, the silence broken only by the ice clinking when either of them sipped their drinks. Their dinner lay forgotten on the table.

"You know," Hermione said slowly, "I think that that was the first time I've let myself cry since - since Ron and I..."

Ginny's eyes were saucers. "You're kidding."

Hermione shrugged. "I guess I've been holding it all in and telling myself that someone like that wasn't worth the tears. I didn't want to talk to anyone because I'd convinced myself that I was fine."

"I guess now you know," said Ginny

"That's true," Hermione conceeded. "But now what?"

"Let yourself grieve. It's normal to feel sad and angry and everything in between right now, so just go with it. Then whenever you feel you're up to it, start packing up his things - and everything that reminds you of him," here, she glanced at a picture on the mantle, "instead of leaving them out where they'll constantly make you think of what happened."

Hermione couldn't help but privately wonder if there was something wrong with her. When the brightest witch of her age could handle all the demands of a high pressure career but couldn't even sort out her own personal life, was it any surprise that she was single again? Maybe, she thought, after all was said and done, she was as emotionally handicapped as she had proclaimed Ron himself to be all those years ago.


When Ginny left a few hours later, Hermione sat on the floor of her bedroom with a cup of tea and sizeable stack of photos which chronicled her relationship with Ron. It was time to let herself grieve. As she went through them, reliving the memories they stirred up, she allowed herself to weep . She knew Ginny had been right about her having to try to move on, so she was starting with the pictures. It might not have been a drastic course of action, but she figured the cathartic process would take time.

She was only halfway through when she heard a knock at the door. She was puzzled and wondered if it was Ginny had, in typical fashion, left something behind and was coming back to retrieve it. Briskly brushing her tears away with the back of her hand, she hurried to answer the door to reveal Severus standing there with his hands in his pockets.

When he saw took the sight of her flushed face and shiny eyes in, he straightened up.

"Who killed your cat?" The moment the words left his mouth, even he wanted to curse his own tongue off. He hadn't meant for it to come out so callously.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, tears welling up uncontrollably. "Look, I know what you're here for but you can go sod off. I'm not in the mood for you," she moved to shut the door but Severus held out a hand to stop it from slamming in his face

"Wait," he said loudly.

"Get lost," Hermione hissed, trying to force the door shut.

"I'd listen," he offered, effortlessly holding the door ajar.

She scoffed in derision. "We're not friends."

"I can pretend to be one."

Hermione let out an impatient huff and doubled her efforts to close the door but she was no match for him. Where was her wand when she needed it?

"Look," he implored, "if you want, you can always kick me out later."

Letting out an impatient noise, she gave up on trying to close the door and stood stiffly instead, hands aross her chest. "You know you're really not going to get lucky tonight."

A strange expression crossed his face, so fleeting that Hermione couldn't decipher it. "Funnily enough, I didn't come here for that tonight," he said. "I brought you something."

Hermione gave him a skeptical look.

"It's one of the books you said you wanted to read. I managed to find it among my collection and was only going to drop it off." In one swift motion, he held out a copy of Beyond The Elements: A Comprehensive Examination of Advanced Transfiguration Techniques to her.

Hermione wavered momentarily before she snatched it out of his grasp with a curt "Fine" and stepped aside.

She left him on the couch to bustle about the kitchen preparing tea. When she returned to the sitting room, however, he was nowhere in sight. She set the tray with the kettle and tea set down on the coffee table and walked down the hallway to her bedroom where the light was on and found him in the middle of the photographs. Without a word, she settled down beside him and watched over his shoulder as he thumbed though the pictures of her and Ron.

A few minutes later, he paused at a photograph. "You look nice here," he said.

Glancing over his shoulder, she recognized it from a trip taken the previous year. Hermione herself, Ron, Harry, Ginny, Luna, George, Angelina, Bill, Fleur, Victoire, Teddy and Charlie had gone to Sweden where they caught up with Molly and Arthur for the Quidditch World Cup.

It was the night of the finals between Ireland and Russia. Having been invited to sit in the top box, as well as anticipating a special event, the whole contingent had dressed up. They had just gotten settled with their programs and were chatting excitedly among themselves when the Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, had addressed the stadium.

"Good evening," his magically-amplified voice boomed. "As minister, I am pleased to welcome all of you to the match we've all been waiting for."

The crowd let out a thunderous roar.

"However," he continued, "before we begin, I hope you will grant a few moments for someone special to us all. Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, please spare a few minutes of your time tonight for Harry Potter."

The few hundred thousand other spectators had emitted a little collective gasp as a large shimmering sheet that was more air than solid appeared, suspended in the air in the middle of the arena, acting like a large-screen projection. It featured a close up of their group - prompting Victoire to let out a shriek and wave excitedly at the magical screen - before zooming in on Ginny and Harry, who had gotten down on one knee and pulled out a little box. He had already discreetly magnified his voice so that when he spoke, the entire stadium heard the carefully rehearsed speech he delivered with a slight waver of nervousness.

"Gin, we've been together for a few years now, but from the first few months of our relationship, I realized that we had something special - you are something really special. You are the strongest, funniest, most determined person I have ever known. You are the best parts of me and you inspire me. I want you to know that I love you more than life itself - I can't imagine living without you and I don't want to have to try. So, I'm asking you to grant me the greatest honor of being yours for always."

He paused to open the box, revealing a delicate band in white gold with a brilliant oval diamond set off by smaller sapphires on either side.

"Ginevra Molly Weasley, will you marry me?"

Ginny, whose hands were clapped over to her mouth, promptly reached out towards him. "Yes," she said breathily, bobbing her head enthusiastically. "Yes yes yes!"

The crowd, watching with bated breath until now, dialed it up to deafening levels of cheering as Harry stood up and stepped into her open arms for a tight hug. After a few moments, Ginny had grabbed his face and kissed him right on the lips.

Blinding flashbulbs had gone off in their faces as they celebrated and several news papers had published double headlines the following day: the engagement of the boy who lived and Ireland's resounding triumph. A few weeks later, their old friend, Dean Thomas, a sports writer with the Daily Prophet, had owled her:

Dear Hermione,

When I was sorting through the photographs from the Finals, this was among the lot. It's actually one of the outtakes and I thought you might like to keep it.

Hope this finds you well!

Best regards,

Dean Thomas

The photograph had been taken just moments after Ginny had accepted the proposal; she had been clasping one of Ron's hands in both of hers, when she had let go to start clapping in delight, her head thrown back in joyous laughter. Her face was alight with a jubilant glow.

"We were so happy," said Hermione softly. "I really thought we had it all."

"What happened?" asked Severus, eyes still on the photograph as he watched Hermione laugh exultantly over and over again.

"There was someone else," she stated simply, "and he didn't even have the courtesy to tell me himself."

Severus looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "That must have hurt."

Hermione was momentarily taken aback by the tone in his voice - Severus Snape was capable of sympathy? - but she recovered quickly.

"Very much," she assented. "We were each others' first loves - although I reckon I should have known it was too good to last."

"Please," retorted Severus. "Cynicism doesn't become you."

"It's true," Hermione insisted, the truth occuring to her as she spoke. "I wanted so badly for it to be real and for us to make it that I think I closed my eyes to a lot of things. I was naive and gullible and unquestioning and so happy just to be with him that I might have tried harder than I should have."

She looked down at her hands and took a deep breath before speaking. "Do you know he broke up with me in a letter? Sometimes when I get mail, I still feel apprehensive before I open it. It's ridiculous, but I've been avoiding written correspondences as much as I can."

The last part came out without her meaning to and she felt rather unsettled at having confided that piece of information in him. To cover her discomposure, she quickly reached for another picture and pushed it into his hands. It was another candid shot.

"This is from when we were still at school," she stated needlessly; their youthless faces and uniforms were giveaways. "Colin Creevey took this one night when we had had a particularly horrible detention with you. "

Severus' upper lip curled, reminding Hermione of when he had been her overbearing, sarcasm-spouting, point-deducting teacher and she said so.

"You're going to drag up those unpleasant memories too?" His tone was brittle.

She shrugged. "I think you're buying into your own hype."

"Hermione, I'm not completely nescient about what they used to say about me. I earned my reputation."

She fought the urge to smile and failed. "You're right," she relented, "you were an utter nightmare - the bane of the entire student population."

He scowled at her, but she had not finished:

"And yet, here you are. If it's worth anything, I think you've come a long way from that uptight, fearsome git I used to know. And now, dare I say it," she smiled up at him, "you're actually being quite nice."

Severus stared at her for a beat, blinked and looked away. "Well," he said shortly, "don't get used to it."

Then, he rose to his feet and headed out to the sitting room to pour himself a cup of tea. Hermione stared at his retreating back, unsure if she'd ever make sense of him.