"Since a tie is apparently a win for the Cannons I suppose I owe you a drink," Jonathon comments as I pass through the door he's holding open.

"That's not necessary, I can buy my own drink, a tie's a tie in my book," I smile back at him and lead the way up to the bar, stopping short when I catch sight of the backs of two red-haired heads. I try to play off my hesitation and head to the far end of the bar. We pull up two stools and Jonathon orders two Firewhisky's with lemon, and gives the barman money before I can even protest.

I glance across the bar to find George and Ron, the latter staring at me intently while George animatedly waves his hands around talking non-stop. I quickly look away and place my full attention on Jonathon who is giving me a sort of play by play of the match.

"You know I really can understand why Cannons supporters are so excited, I mean it's a miracle they tied!" he laughs into his glass. "No offense, of course, I'm just saying…"

"None taken, honestly." I sip my drink and we sit in silence for a moment. "Oh, I was meaning to ask you, how did you choose the name for your owl? It couldn't be Fitzgerald?"

"Yeah, it is actually. My mum is Muggleborn and The Great Gatsby was her favorite when she was younger. And I actually quite enjoyed it myself."

"That's really wonderful, Fitzgerald was really an amazing writer, I read that story for the first time when I was eight and I could read it a million times over!"

"You read Great Gatsby when you were eight?" he looks at me incredulously and I feel a blush creeping onto my cheeks.

"Yes, well I learned to read when I was quite young and nothing really satisfied me and so I continued to read books of a higher and higher level until I was challenged," I try to explain, feeling very nerdy.

"I think that's absolutely amazing. Cynthia told me you were smart but apparently that doesn't even begin to explain it!" I smile shyly at him, not really knowing what to say and take another sip of my drink. I look over at where Ron and George are sitting and George is grasping Ron's arm and talking in his ear. Then George looks over at me, smiles and waves and I suddenly get the feeling that they're talking about me but I wave back.

"Friends of yours?" Jonathon asks.

"Yes, that's George and Ron Weasley."

"Yeah, well I know who Ron is of course because of the war…and I figured the other must be a Weasley too. Would you like to go over and say hello?" he asks politely and starts to stand. I grab his arm and pull him back down in the seat.

"No! No, its okay. Actually I should probably get going," I glance at my watch, and not even taking in what time it is, I say, "it's getting late." Jonathon eyes me curiously and looks at his own watch.

"It's 7 o'clock…" he says. "Stay for one more drink?" he flashes me a brilliant smile and I almost can't say no.

"No, really I should get going," I say shooting a glance over in Ron's direction, suddenly desperate to get out of here before he comes over.

"Is because of Ron?" Jonathon asks leaning close. "I know you two had a bit of a falling out…"

I take a moment to decide whether or not to tell the truth.

"You know, actually it is Ron. I'm sorry, I don't mean to just run out like this but I can't…I just…" I trail off not really knowing how to explain.

"It's fine, look," he brings his glass to his lips and tips it back, draining the remainder, and I do the same. "Would you like to come by my flat? Just for a moment, I have something that you might like."

"What is it?"

"Well," he says standing and handing me my jacket. "When I was in my sixth year at Hogwarts, I used to write out articles about all of the House matches, I knew I wanted to write Quidditch from a young age. And so when Potter swallowed the snitch in the Cup Tournament I got this photograph of the three of you and it's really quite funny." He laughs and I'm mesmerized at how genuine and lovely it sounds and I can't help but smile and agree.

As we walk along the bar towards the door Ron reaches out and grabs my hand, and without really realizing it I grab Jonathon's with my other.

"Hey, Hermione," Ron pastes a smile that I know isn't authentic and a wave of guilt washes over me.

"Hello, Ron. Hi, George. Um, this is Jonathon Pierce. Jonathon, this is Ron and George Weasley." Jonathon drops my hand to shake theirs.

"Nice shirt Hermione! Ron tells me you were at the game as well! I didn't realize you were such a big fan." He grins mischievously at me and it takes all of my will power no to glare at him.

"Well, we were just leaving, so I'll see you around." I announce trying and failing not to look Ron in the eye.

"Yeah, see you 'round," he says, his gaze burning a hole in my heart.

"It was nice to meet you guys!" Jonathon says cheerfully and takes hold of my hand and leads me out. "You don't have to come over if you don't want to, I can show you the photo some other time…"

"No, it's fine. I'm fine. I would love to see it." I force a smile and he Side-Along Apparates us to his flat.

"Um, have a seat," he motions to the sofa in the spacious living room. "I'll just go grab the photo. Would you like a drink? I don't know if I have any lemon…" The sound of glasses clinking sounds from behind me and I turn to see he has a bar in his sitting room.

"Sure, that's fine. This is a gorgeous flat!"

"Thanks," he comes around and hands me my drink and I can tell he's blushing. "It took many years to be able to afford this." We cheers and he heads off down the hall to find the photo and I find myself sitting alone in this man's living room. Suddenly I remember how new this is to me and I become slightly nervous.

He walks down the hall towards me with a silly grin on his face, plops down next to me on the couch and hands me an old photograph. I immediately laugh when I look at it. Harry is in the dead center surrounded by Gryffindors and he's holding the snitch high above his head with a hilarious look of amazement and confusion etched on his face and Ron runs into the photo laughing and shouting and high-fives Harry and they laugh together. Then I appear at the very edge of the photo. I'm smiling and I move closer to the boys but then I step back and I just stand there on the edge of the photo and smile at them.

"Potter's face is just classic! And Weasley looks like he might explode!" he says grinning. "But what gets me about this photo is from what I recall, the three of you were practically best friends right from the off, so why didn't you go to them?"

"We weren't best friends. Not yet anyways," I say quietly watching the photo replay over and over. "I didn't really have any friends for most of first year. Ron and Harry, they tolerated me, and I followed them around because that was the closest thing I'd ever had to friends. They didn't like me at first, especially Ron. To them, and everyone else for that matter, I was just a bushy-haired, buck-toothed know-it-all. They only kept me around to help them do their homework. I mean obviously eventually we became friends, real friends, but not then." I explain, pointing at the picture. "That's why I didn't go to them, I didn't want to ruin their moment."

Jonathon places his hand under my chin and gently turns my face towards his.

"Anyone who can't see how lovely you are from the moment they meet you must be completely daft," he says softly and slowly leans in towards me. Our lips meet and my eyes flutter shut and I feel as if I'm melting into him. The kiss is gentle, as if he's trying to prove what he said just moment's ago. As his lips slide along mine the pain of my early friendless childhood seeps away and is replaced with a need to be closer…

My arms reach up of their own accord and wrap around his neck and he pulls me as flush as we can get in this position before he apparently decides it's not enough. The mild pressure of his body against mine urges me to lean back and, fueled by the Firewhisky, I oblige bringing his body down on top of me. The kiss intensifies and he weaves one hand into my hair and the other slides down the side of my body resting on my upper thigh. He squeezes and then glides his hand back up my body ever so slowly before it comes to a stop just below my bra. His thumb begins to trace the under wire of my bra, every couple of strokes he grazes my breast and the feeling is electric and I want more. I want to feel his hands on my skin again. He shifts his hips and suddenly he's positioned between my legs and I reach up to run my hands through his fiery red hair and I vaguely wonder why it's so short. He discreetly slides his hand under the hem of my shirt and makes his way up my stomach to cup my breast and I notice his skin is not nearly as rough as before. I arch my chest and move my hips to make for a better connection and a moan escapes his lips and my eyes shoot open at the sound, because the voice isn't familiar and in an instant I'm dragged back to reality. My fingers are not twined in red hair. It's not Ron pressed so intimately against me. This is not Ron.

"Wait," I pant, gently pushing against Jonathon's chest.

"Oh, shit," he jumps off of my body so quickly one might think I burned him. "I'm sorry, Hermione, I didn't mean—I got carried away—shit, I'm sorry—,"

"It's okay," I say as I sit up and adjust my shirt. "It's fine, it's not your fault," I try to assure him and I can feel tears burning behind my eyes as I gather my things. "I'm just going to go," I say reaching down to pick up the forgotten photograph from the floor and I try to hand it to him but he insists I keep it.

"Really, please don't worry about that," I motion to the couch. "I just can't…do this. It really has nothing to do with you personally." I'm backing towards the door silently begging the tears not to fall, not yet.

"Okay," he says sullenly. "I understand. Um, have a good evening." He leans in and kisses my cheek and a single tear escapes before I turn on the spot and Apparate outside of my flat.

"Hermione!" I spin around there's Ron. The dam breaks and the tears spill down my face. "What happened? What did he do to you?" Ron's suddenly angry and his hands are on my shoulders.

"Nothing! He didn't do anything, he was a gentleman," I choke out fumbling for my keys before remembering that I'm a witch and I let myself in leaving the door open in an invitation for Ron to follow.

"Then what happened? Why are you crying?" he closes the door behind him.

I don't quite know how to explain that I got carried away with Jonathon, all the while imagining Ron in his place, so I don't answer. I don't want him to see the longing and pain in my eyes so I turn and make my way into the kitchen. Guilt is radiating throughout my body in waves as I shakily make a pot of tea. I push my palms into my eyes trying to stop the tears from falling and I can hear Ron approaching cautiously.

"Hermione," he says quietly and places his hand on my shoulder gently turning me to face him. I drop my hands and tilt my head to look him in the eye, suddenly not caring what he can see in mine. He brushes his thumb across my cheek and I can't help but lean into his palm. A fresh wave of tears escape and without listening to my mind screaming 'no', I rise up on my toes and kiss him.