These characters belong to J.K. Rowling. Just wanted to clear that up.
I also corrected some typing errors.
It had been a long week, and the plans for the new school were moving along slowly. Hermione couldn't wait for the proceedings to end so she could return home. The meeting that day had been so intense that it had ended with one wizard being sent to the hospital with antlers growing from his head.
"Who would've thought that the old man would get so offended by the school being named after Glinda Jones?" Hermione overheard.
"Of course he would, she's his ex-wife." A witch responded.
Hermione laughed to herself, and cut through the crowd of gossipers and stepped outside. Across the street Hermione noticed something she hadn't in the previous days. There was a building being erected and the sign in front read "Future Location of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes".
Hermione grinned, thinking back to all the times she'd lectured Fred and George about their silly inventions, thinking nothing would come of it. Now they had the most successful joke shop in the wizarding world.
She decided to have dinner at another muggle restaurant, and entered the place that seemed the most quiet and relaxing. She decided to take a seat at the bar. She ordered a margarita (she'd grown fond of them after being around muggles for so long) and was glancing through the menu. Her thought on what to order were interrupted by a familiar voice.
"A two dollar tip on a fifty dollar table? What cheap bastard leaves only a two dollar tip?" Hermione looked up. Sure enough, it was Malfoy complaining loudly. She looked around and saw the offended looks on other patrons' faces.
"I work my bloody finger to the bone in this dump, and all I have to show for it is two bloody dollars!"
Some people were getting up to leave.
"Maybe if you weren't such a jerk, Drake, you'd get a better tip," said one of his co-workers.
"Oh shut up you smarmy, no good---"
"Malcolm!" The restaurants owner interrupted him. "Malcolm, I am losing customers by the dozens. I've gotten several complaints about you over the past few weeks. I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to let you go son."
"You're sacking me! In front of everyone?" Drake screamed. "Fine I don't need this bloody job anyway." He went to the back to get his things. Hermione put her hand in her purse and grabbed her wand. She was prepared to do whatever it took in case he tried to get revenge. She was surprised, however, when he just walked out.
Hermione decided to follow him just to be sure he didn't try anything. She paid for her drink and left quickly. When she exited the restaurant, she saw Drake yelling at an elderly woman.
"Oi!" Hermione saw the woman speed up as Drake shouted after her. "Hey!" He continued. He ran up to the woman and grabbed her. At this, Hermione had her wand ready.
"Let go of me!" The old woman shouted. "Help! Help! I'm being attacked"
"What? No!" Drake explained. "I was just trying to tell you that you left your bag on that bench," He pointed behind him, handing her the bag.
"Oh. Thank you young man." said the old woman. "We could use more honest men like you in the world.
Hermione couldn't believe what she'd just seen.
"Malfoy? Doing a good deed? Maybe they'd added too much alcohol to that margarita," she thought as she walked back to her hotel.
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Harry sat the book he was reading down on the end table next to his armchair. He had been reading "The Boy Who Lived: An Unauthorized Biography" by Romilda Vane, which proved to be a humorous read, however inaccurate. Ginny had given it as a gag gift to him on their date a few nights ago.
The date had gone well, even though he was late. Ginny, an auror herself, understood the demands of the job. Harry had never quite let go of the feelings he'd developed for Ginny during his sixth year at Hogwarts. They'd remained friends, but recently decided to try out a romance again. He'd enjoyed himself on the date, so much so that he hadn't yet confronted Ron about borrowing his cloak without asking.
He rose to go into the kitchen to get a snack, when Ron apparated right in front of him, causing them to collide.
"Oi, watch it," said Harry in a slightly angry tone. He'd immediately regretted it when he saw the look on Ron's face. Thinking back on the past few days, Harry realized that Ron had had the same expression on his face since meeting his brothers at the Leaky Cauldron.
"Sorry Harry. I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm just going to go to my room."
"Ron," said Harry grabbing his arm, "you've been acting moody for almost a week. If this is about the cloak, don't worry about it."
"It's not about the bloody cloak," Ron said, exasperatedly, "It's my bloody life that's the bloody problem."
Harry stared at his friend. He had never seen him so miserable. He couldn't understand what had happened. One day, he's as giddy as ever about his promotion, the next he's an angst-ridden teenager all over again.
"You're scaring me mate. What's got you so upset?"
"What's hasn't? I felt guilty about taking your cloak the other night and I've been waiting for you to blow up at me about it all week" He paused to think. "Let's see what else is there?"
"My mum's been pestering me to come and visit her. I've just found out that I only got a one bloody galleon raise for my promotion. I landed in cat dung when I apparated to work this morning. Eloise mentioned the word "marriage" five times in conversation last night. To top it all of, I haven't been able to stop thinking about…," he stopped ranting, blushed furiously, then went to the kitchen to grab a bottle of firewhiskey
.He opened the bottle and took a long hard drink.
Harry was really beginning to worry that Ron had gone mad. His thoughts must have shown in his face.
"Don't look at me like that Harry. I've just had a bad week is all." He took another long drink of firewhiskey.
"That much is obvious Ron. But I don't understand. What is it that you haven't been able to stop thinking about?
Ron sighed heavily, his eyes on the bottle in his hand.
"Ron?" He didn't answer. "Ron?"
Ron still gave no answer. Instead, he drained the bottle, set it down on the kitchen counter and apparated away.
Harry stood, dumbfounded, staring at the spot where his friend had just disappeared from.
"Did I just imagine that?" He asked aloud to himself.
