hey there! it's been a while since i posted because i tried to sit down and work on another story which kind of ended up in creating a horrendous love child with one of my old ideas about alternate universes, so...if i post that anytime soon, i hope you enjoy it :) in other news, some reviewers thought that the relationship between ron and hermione was kind of all over the place, which i admit to but hopefully all will be put to rest soon once i post more chapters!

disclaimer: all rights belong to their respective owners. i am not making any profit out of this story, neither am i claiming ownership over anything that readers may recognize.

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"Draco Malfoy?" Three out four slightly inebriated individuals spluttered with wide eyes.

Mid-bite in her deliciously toasted sandwich, she flicked her eyes over her wax food wrappings and shrugged at their blatant abhorrence.

"What's wrong?" She asked, her nose crinkling at the disconnection in their trail of conversation.

"He's a right bastard, is what's wrong." Ginny blurted out, gripping the edge of the table with white knuckles as a look of fury blanketed her face. Harry struggled to keep her tall frame seated when she tried to leave the table in search of him.

Hermione barked sharply with a chuckle and nodded along with them. "You can say that again."

"Did he attack you?" Harry and Ron edged closer to her in their seats, mistaking her chorus of assent for one of physical confrontation. The legs of their chairs scratched at the wooden floor and the bartender glowered at them from behind the bar.

She blinked at them.

"He's not a rabid animal. He just said some things." She shrugged again and set down her food, unable to understand their hostility. Sure, she wouldn't mind knocking him down a few pegs, but she couldn't relate to them in their thinly veiled need to throw him off of his pedestal completely and chuck him over a flaming cliff.

"He's Malfoy," said Ron, shaking his head from side to side. "He's ruined—he's sabotaged every match since he stepped into camp. Him and his cronies; fucking Zabini and Parkinson."

"Oh, I know Blaise." She said with a bright smile. "He works at Starbucks, did you know?"

This time, it was their turn to blink.

"You?" Harry asked with disbelieve. "You know Blaise Zabini?"

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I'm not completely inept at socializing, you know. He just gave me my coffee. Nothing too dramatic or groundbreaking as me making friends, per se." She scoffed, brushing off a couple of wayward crumbs and cleaned her hands on a napkin before settling her hands in her lap.

"Although he's quite horrid at making it." She added distractedly, remembering the bitter and lukewarm taste that had swirled across her tongue only minutes before.

Harry, Ron, and Ginny all leaned back in their seats with matching dumbfounded expressions and shook their heads in sync.

"You have heard of the great Potter-Malfoy war that's been going on for years, haven't you?" Ginny asked, pushing her red hair over her shoulder. "It's quite famous, from what I've heard on campus."

Hermione looked at Harry and Ron with bewilderment until the hundreds of tall tales featuring a fuming Harry and a spiteful blond boy pieced together in my mind with recognition.

"That's Malfoy?" She sipped at her pink lemonade in amusement. Of course they would be the ones to have conflict in a stupid lacrosse camp.

"Obviously," Harry snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. "Do you know how hard scouting day was? He would have made it onto the team, if Cormac hadn't managed to knock him down."

"Only useless thing he did the entire game." Ron mumbled, his expression souring at the mention of McLaggen. Ginny snorted upon hearing his name and Hermione cringed, remembering her misguided acceptance of his proposition for Professor Slughorn's party a couple of years back. That was not a golden moment in her past, and it was only worsened every time one of her friends brought it up.

"Oh, get off your high horse, Harry," She gulped down some more lemonade and stared at him teasingly. "We all know Dumbledore gave you the spot because he's just utterly fascinated by your little back story."

"Not true," He hissed, offended. "Plus, no one can even recognize who I am, anymore. It's been a million years since they arrested Riddle."

Ron and Ginny shrugged in acknowledgement and Hermione shook her head at his years of mastering a perfect look, crossbred between coolness and annoyance.

"Yeah, right. So the girl staring at you over there just happens to be attracted to your unofficial X-Files shirt, then? I'm sure that she's looking forward to a smashing day at Comic-con."

Harry shrunk into his seat with embarrassment, while Ginny whipped around to catch a good look. The girl in question had curly brown hair—although it was much softer and sleek than Hermione's had ever been in all her years, with suggestive eyes; heavy with half drooping lids, a thin red tank-top and a skirt, splayed out across her legs. She looked hauntingly familiar and Hermione squinted to get a clearer view of the girls face.

"That's Romilda Vane." Ginny and Hermione said simultaneously, the first with a vicious tone, and the second with a subtle lilt of glee.

Harry groaned loudly, hitting his head against the surface of the table with a dull thud and refused to respond to Ron's poking and prodding. He continued to hit his head in a slow, almost methodical rhythm until Hermione swatted him with a newspaper, much like she had upon the announcement of the Slug Club holiday party when Romilda had first taken notice upon him.

Harry lifted his head, his glasses pushed awkwardly on his face, and his hair sticking out in odd places. "Why her?"

Ron and Hermione laughed at the plain misery on his face, and Ginny settled back next to him with a look of satisfaction once she heard his reaction to the prospect of Romilda.

"Well, I mean I don't know why, but it sure as hell isn't your X-Files shirt," Ron grinned at the drying patch of mustard on edge of the UFO. "Honestly, Harry, I'm pretty sure you've had that since our fourth year."

"It was our fifth year." He corrected, letting his head fall against the crook of his folded arms on the table.

"Oh, awfully sorry for mistaking that gigantic difference," Ron mocked. He turned to Hermione and flashed her a grin. "This guy goes through the entire process of school not knowing how to subtract properly, and now he thinks he's a fucking genius when he manages to correct me."

Hermione bubbled with laughter and rolled her eyes at their antics.

"Change of subject please," Harry sat up from his cocoon of angst, blushing at the sudden weight of Ginny's arm on his waist. "You were saying something about the interview, Hermione?"

Her eyes brightened with a building wave of babbling and she gushed out all she had wanted to say for the past hour or so. In her tumble of eagerness, she missed the grumble of opposition from Ron.

"The interview is basically my shot at interning at the Times which might lead to a position as a journalist if everything goes well." She bounced from her chair and continued with renewed vigor. "I thought they would never let me in their pretentious little upper class club, but the person who runs the training and hiring had his secretary push my interview to an earlier time. At first I was confused because they rejected me thre—"

"—Three times." Her friends finished her sentence with constant practice.

"Three times before. And did you know that in one of them they said that my blog was un—"

"—Unprofessional."

"Unprofessional." Her hair shook wildly around her face and crackled with energy. "They even had the auda—"

"—Audacity."

"—Audacity to call me out on unoriginality and—and lack of creativ—"

"—Creativity."

"Wait." Ginny cut in, with a sharp laugh. "So the biggest newspaper company in New York called you out on being extra?"

Hermione stared her down unappreciatively at her interpretation.

"They did not call me out on being—extra."

"Looks like they did to me." Ginny giggled at her anger and turned to Harry and Ron. "That's what you think happened too, right?"

Harry nodded immediately and Ron jerked his neck in agreement, mid-laughter.

Hermione sniffed haughtily. "Well—I suppose it'll all be sorted out tomorrow, then."

"About that!" Ginny clapped her hands together. "You need something to wear, don't you?"

Hermione stared at the redhead skeptically, preparing for the worst-case scenario.

"You are most definitely not allowed to choose my outfit." Ginny's face didn't fall, like Hermione had hoped, but instead, grew larger. "Besides, I was just going to wear something comfortable."

Ginny arched an eyebrow at her doubtfully. "Yeah? Pray tell, Hermione, what exactly were you planning on wearing?"

"My suit." She said evenly.

Ginny shuddered violently and made to stand up from her seat. Grabbing Hermione's arm, and pulling her from her chair, she waved the boy's goodbye, all the while ignoring Hermione's pleas to let go.

"We'll see you later!" Ginny said merrily as she dragged her through the exit of the pub.

Hermione whimpered helplessly and decided that the worst-case scenario was currently taking place in real time, and that she was most assuredly unprepared for it.

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