A/N: Thanks for reviewing. I'd love to hear what you all think of the story so far. So keep up the with reviews.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Happy Potter.


Friday night.

Friday night and she was spending it in her office. Her icy blue eyes scanned across the paper in front of her as she scratched out words and added punctuation. By the time she was finished with the proof reading, the parchment would be nothing but a sea of red markings. She tapped the tip of her quill on the corner of the page, leaving red dots on the parchment.

"Take this back to, Thomas," the raven haired girl said as she finished her notes on the paper she was reading.

This was something new that Mr. Keegan had decided to do. Instead of having one person do the proofreading for the articles that were going into the next day's paper, he had everyone in the office proofread someone else's article. They were not assigned a person's article to proofread, they just asked the first available person. Or in Thomas' case, the last person in the office that was able to do the job.

"Yes, yes ma'am," the intern in her office, the one with the mousy hair, said as she backed out of the door.

Romilda turned her attention to her own article. She'd handed it off to Bletchley earlier in the day, so that he could read over it. He was the only person in the office that she felt was competent enough to proofread her work. In turn, he handed his to her. While the two of them were never going to get along, he thought that her work was unappealing and a waste of space, they did have a certain respect for one another.

His article had been about the upcoming game between the Appleby Arrows and the Wimbourne Wasps. He'd listed stats about both teams and even had a few quotes from both coaches. He had even managed to get a few words from the captain of the Arrows, Theodore Nott. However after closer inspection, she realized that Bletchley had just taken his quote from her article. As a sort of joke, she wrote in the corner for him to make sure that he properly cited his sources. She knew that he was not going pay her note any attention and leave it the way that it was. Honestly, she didn't really mind, because it was Bletchley, had it been anyone else…

"Ms. Vane?" the mousy intern called as she knocked on the open door. Her icy eyes snapped up to the intern. The intern squeaked. "There's someone here to see you."

Romilda shook her head. "I don't want to see anyone."

"He's rather persistent," the intern said.

Romilda looked at her blankly. "Send them away."

The intern disappeared as she turned her eyes downward again. She could hear the intern speaking to someone, her voice quiet and desperate sounding. However, she could not hear who she was talking to. She then heard her walking towards the door again.

"How hard is it to get rid of someone?" Romilda snapped without looking up from the black ink on the paper on her desk.

"You wound me, Millie."

A small smile played on her lips as she placed her quill back in the ink and looked upwards in to the green eyes of Cormac McLaggen. "Please, don't call me that where people can hear," she said tightly although her icy blue eyes had thawed. She watched as he moved into her office and shut the door behind him.

"How about now, Millie?" he questioned as he moved towards her.

Romilda pushed back away from her desk and watched as he walked around her office. He moved gracefully for someone of his size. He was never overweight or anything like that, he was just broad shouldered and tall. She'd never know a tall person to be as graceful as he. His blond hair was short and curly. He pushed his hands into his pockets as he leaned against the short side of her desk.

"I wish you wouldn't call me that at all," she answered as she crossed her legs.

"You look lovely, Millie," he commented as he touched her curly hair. She turned her icy gaze to him briefly. "Fine, Romilda."

"That's better," she said as she picked her quill back up. "What brings you here, Cormac?"

"You," he answered.

Romilda glanced at him from the corner of her eye. "Yeah?"

"Would you fancy a butterbeer?" he questioned. She continued to watch him from the corner of her eye. "A firewiskey, perhaps?" She looked away and towards the paper on her desk. Romilda pushed away from the desk and stood, before moving towards the door.

"You, intern," the raven-haired woman called as she opened the door. She held the paper out to the woman. "Get this to printing. Tell them it's from me." Romilda eyed the girl hesitantly with her icy eyes. "Can you handle that?"

"Yes, ma'am," the intern replied. "Ms. Vane," the intern said after a moment. One of Romilda's eyebrows arched. "My name is Alexandra."

Romilda looked at her for a long moment and then shrugged. "Get it to printing, Alexandra." With that she moved back into her office and closed the door behind her. "You were offering firewhiskey?" she questioned as she crossed her arms over her chest.

Cormac moved towards her and placed a hand on either side of her head. "Are you accepting my invitation?"

Romilda and Cormac had history. She and Cormac were one in the same. Both were pushy, conceited, overly self-confident, the best aspects of Gryffindor house. That was what made them friends, even if he was three years older than her. They had met in the common room one night when she was completely unable to sleep in her first year. He'd been sitting in the armchair reading some book. When she'd come down the stairs he'd said something slightly vulgar to her and she shot back with a comment rejecting him. He'd decided that he liked her then. Other people didn't seem to understand their nature. Their confidence was off-putting. So they spent a lot of time together. They soon became part of the statistic of boys and girls being unable to be 'just friends'. Cormac was Romilda's first, and her his. Through that they were always connected. That also opened a different door in their friendship. Cormac was never really dating anyone, he always floated from girl to girl. However, Romilda was always a constant for him because she was never dating anyone either. She had this constant guard up that made her incredibly intimidating, and of course the icy blue eyes a feature that brought her intimidation factor up ten fold. That and she had impossibly high standards and no one seemed to met them. Well there was Harry Potter, but that was a different story. While he was a naturally self-absorbed person, he cared for her. He loved her, in many different ways, and Romilda, while she always told him that she didn't, cared for him deeply as well. However, they were not in love. They always knew that they would never work as an actual couple. They both distanced themselves from other people too much for anything to work. Their relationship was always strictly physical.

"If you're paying, Cormac," she replied as she ducked under his arm.

He rolled his green eyes as he pushed away from the wall. "Don't I always?" As he watched her walk towards her desk to attempt to straighten the mess. She would stop in a moment. He had never known her to be able to get her desk as clean as she wanted it to be.

"Your parents raised you well. Shall we go? I don't think I could stand being here one more second."

He was right.

Cormac held his arm out to her and she moved towards him. The raven-haired reporter took his arm and before she could say anything to him, the sensation of being pulled through a small tunnel overtook her.


Because he'd apparated without so much as telling her, he had to buy her an extra drink. He obliged. He honestly enjoyed their time together, as rare as it was. She was always busy doing something or other with work and he played Quidditch, so he was busy practicing and traveling. In fact, he'd just returned from Ireland earlier in the day. Romilda was the first person he thought of going to see. However, he knew that she was at work, so he entertained himself with another friend.

"How's Quidditch?" she questioned as she brought the glass of firewhiskey up to her lips. It was her fourth glass of firewhiskey and she was sure to start feeling the effects of the alcohol shortly.

He watched her. Cormac would never deny that he enjoyed to watch her. Her movements were always so fluid and graceful. He watched as the glass came to rest on her plush bottom lip. The way that she held herself, with such confidence and a knowledge that she was indeed stunning. The way that she used her icy blue eyes to intimidate everyone. The way that people moved out of the way when they saw her. And the way that she raven hair perfectly complemented her skin.

But she'd asked him a question and he had to stop watching her to answer.

"It's fine," he said with a shrug. "Are you going to come to one of my games? I can get you a seat in the box."

"With Bletchley? No."

"No, you won't come?"

"No, I won't sit with Bletchley."

He nodded and held up his empty glass, gesturing for another one. This would be his fifth glass. "Well, you could always write the sports report and he won't need to go." She laughed at this. "That would be an interesting report. Do you even know the names of the equipment?" he teased.

Romilda smacked his arm lightly. "Of course I do!" Her voice was a little loud, the alcohol was starting to show its effects. "There's the snitch, the quaffle, and bludger." She ticked each of the balls off on her fingers.

Cormac's face was starting to look a little red as well. "I'm impressed, Ms. Vane."

"I had to do my research," she said slowly as she held her glass up. The bartender came and refilled both their glasses. She held her glass out to the side and Cormac tapped the brim of his to hers. "Cheers," they said before drinking. "I had to research because of Theodore Nott." She lowered her eyebrows in concentration as she spoke. Was this glass five? Yes. Glass five.

"Yes!" Cormac shouted, drawing the attention of the other witches and wizards in the bar. "Theodore Snott." Romilda laughed with an uncharacteristic snort. "How was that?"

She shrugged and finished off the firewhiskey in her glass. "S'fine." She was slurring now. "Can't tell you anything that wasn't in the paper."

"But we are friends," Cormac said indignantly and loudly. He then proceeded to pout.

"Not telling you," she sang.

"You're a terrible friend, Millie. I've been with you for years and tolerated you when no one else would," he slurred as he attempted to point at her in an accusatory manner, but only succeeded in almost falling off the bar stool. "And you won't tell me any secrets."

"Tolerated me?" she questioned, an emphasis on me, with an arched eyebrow. "No, it was the other way around."

Cormac rolled her green eyes again and then looked over at her. "Romilda," he slurred.

"Cormac?"

"You're awful," he told her. He consciously, and clumsily, moved closer to her. She could smell his breath now. He smelled like firewhiskey, but she was sure that she did as well.

"You've told me that."

"Romilda?" he slurred again.

"Cormac?"

"Let's get out of here."


"Merlin's beard!"

Romilda winced into the sunlight as it broke through the blinds. Blinds? Her icy blue eyes shot open. She was in an unfamiliar place. She didn't really know where she was. The grey sheets. The warmth radiating from the other side of the bed. The warmth? Romilda looked over quickly and gazed at the person next to her.

"McLaggen," she said as she poked him, holding the sheets to her bare chest. He didn't stir. "McLaggen," she tried again, poking him now in the ribs. He grunted. "Mac!" her shouting even made her own head pound. He winced at the sound of her voice and swatted at her, trying to silence her.

"Millie, hush," he mumbled into the pillow.

"Invest in some curtains," she replied as she pulled the grey comforter over her head, trying to block out he sun.

"Do you always wake up this ornery?" he grunted as he rolled over on to his back folding his arms behind his head.

She flicked the first part of exposed flesh she could find, somewhere on his lower back, in response. "Invest in curtains," she repeated, her voice muffled by the comforter.

"Buy some for me," he mumbled. He was silent for a moment and in that moment, Romilda could literally hear her head pounding. "I always have worst hangovers when I drink with you."

"Same," she said quietly.

A comfortable silence fell over them. Romilda relished the heat that Cormac's body was radiating and she relaxed under the blankets. She listened as his breathing fell soft again and she realized that he had dozen off again. She pulled the sheets from over her head and sighed. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. She had to admit that Cormac was handsome. He was handsome and he had always been a constant in her life. There were times when she debated on if she should just give into what seemed to be her fate of ending up with Cormac. Most people thought that they were a couple during their time at Hogwarts, despite his open attempts to date other female students, Granger in particular. However, they never were just good friends with benefits.

Romilda poked him. "You," she said quietly. "I have to go."

"Then put on your clothes and go," he said as he swatted her hand away lazily. He didn't open his green eyes but he could feel her icy gaze on him. He shifted uncomfortably. "Stop looking at me like that," he begged as he opened one green eye. "Stop it, Romilda."

"I'm not doing anything."

"You're glaring at me."

The woman shrugged and rolled out of the bed taking the comforter with her. Cormac sat up, positioning himself on the pillows on the bed. He watched as she bent over and picked her clothes up from the floor.

"My bra," she said. "Where is it?"

Cormac shrugged as he stretched. His foot hit something unfamiliar. He reached under the sheet she'd left on the bed and pulled out her black bra. "Here, Millie," he said as he presented it to her with it hanging on his finger by the strap.

Romilda dressed quickly, trying to make herself look halfway presentable. She was sure that her curly hair looked like a bird's nest. She tried running her fingers through her hair, but they only managed to snag against every tangle in her hair.

"Romilda," Cormac voiced as she tossed the comforter over towards his bed. He watched as she pulled on her lace underwear. "I'm going to Bulgaria Sunday night," he said. The raven-haired girl looked her shoulder at him with a questioning gaze. "Quidditch."

"Bulgaria. It's hot out there," she told him.

"I know. There's nude beaches there," he said with a wink and he could see Romilda physically resist the urge to roll her eyes.

"How long?" she asked as she buttoned her shirt.

He shrugged. "A few weeks?" he said, the upward inflection at the end making it a question. "Wanna come?"

Romilda snorted and shook her head. "You're crazy." She looked over him and saw that he was serious. "Seriously? You want me to go to Bulgaria with you in two days?" Her eyebrow arched. "I'm not going to do that, Mac."

"Just an offer, Millie," he said with a shrug. "I'll send you a ticket to a game?"

"I'll put it in the pile with the rest of them," Romilda sang as she looked in the mirror on his wall. She saw him reach behind him to grab a pillow, which he tossed at her. She stepped to the side and the pillow hit the dresser. "And you play Quidditch?" she teased. "Why can't you send me a ticket to a match in this country?" she questioned.

"I'm trying to keep you cultured, love."

The woman rolled her eyes and moved to sit on the bed. "Well I thank you," she said as she collapsed back on the bed. "I'll write you," she said as she reached up and patted his arm. "Well, you'll write me and tell me things so that I can put them in the paper."

"The paper?"

"Find a hot girl on a nude beach or get drunk at a pub or something outrageous and I'll write about and everyone will love me, and via extension you," the woman told him.

"I was sold at 'find a hot girl on a nude beach'," Cormac laughed. "Come for a visit and I'll tell you all my stories."

"Or you could write me so that I don't have to apparate across the English Channel," she told him as she sat up and then pulled on her shoes. She huffed. "I have to run," she said looking over her shoulder.

"I had fun last night," he said with a wink.

The raven-haired woman picked her wand up off his bedside table and briefly pressed her lips to his cheek. "It's always a pleasure, Mac. Be safe in Bulgaria and all that. Don't forget to write."

Before he could speak to counter her words. She apparated from the room.


A/N: So let me know what you think! I have always liked Romilda and Cormac as friends because they are very similar in personality and I don't feel like there are many people in Gryffindor like the two of them. After reading up on Romilda, she could have very easily been in Slytherin. However, her Gryffindor qualities outweigh her ability to manipulate and deceive people.I also just really like Cormac. So yeah, let me know what you think about them. To clear any confusion that might have been, they are friends with benefits. So they hook up on the occasion. Anyway, let me know what you think.