Author's Note: New chapter up much sooner than usual! I know you guys wanted to hear more and I finally went back to Hermione's perspective for a while. Also, I wrote a new one-shot as a challenge for some friends on tumblr, and it's Oliver Wood/Katie Bell pairing. If you're interested, please give it a look-through and let me know what you thought about my venturing into a new ship. If there are any you'd like to see me do a one-shot of, let me know! Not Rowling.

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Hermione was in the middle of reading a new article for tomorrow's paper when Jonathan walked in.

"Hello," she said cheerfully.

"I just wanted to remind you of your appointment with Thomas Rockwell in five minutes. Just so you're prepared."

She laughed. "I think I'll be fine. I think I scared him off at the Minister's Ball," she said with a wink.

Jonathan let out a chuckle. "I still can't believe you did that."

Hermione just grinned. Jonathan had become a close friend and he was the only person she had told about what had happened that night between her and George, not even wanting to tell Harry or Ron out of trepidation of what their reactions may be if they knew. Jonathan smiled and nodded before heading out of her office and shutting the door behind him. Hermione went back to her paper, but she couldn't focus as well. It seemed counterintuitive that she was excited to see Rockwell, but this would be the first time they would meet since that night, and she couldn't wait to see how he acted. She fidgeted with her quill as she read, her eyes constantly flicking up to the clock. Three minutes. Two minutes. One. There was a knock at the office door. Showtime.

"Come in."

The door opened and revealed Thomas Rockwell, who smiled politely at her and stepping in, closing the door quietly behind him.

"Hello, Miss Granger. Thank you for meeting with me on such short notice. The Eastern European teams are up in arms because a few countries are trying to break up into smaller, individual states. Why they would do this right before the season starts is beyond me," he said, looking down often at his notes.

"That's ridiculous! What countries?"

"Mostly Serbia."

She scoffed. "Honestly, they're had so many team switches; this is getting ridiculous!"

He looked up and smiled. It wasn't his normal smile, the sly smile that was wickedly handsome but unappealingly dangerous, but rather a genuinely amused grin.

"I didn't know you followed Eastern Eurpoean quidditch, Miss Granger."

She grinned back. "Well, I have to be well-informed, don't I?"

The rest of their conversation sailed by smoothly. Hermione found herself sincerely enjoying talking to him, a new phenomenon for her as she had always wanted to back his face in with a frying pan previously. It was odd how he had somehow changed, even though he was probably just the same physically. His smile was genuine and lit up his eyes, which no longer held that predatory glint. She realized for the first time that his dark brown eyes had flecks of green in them and that he had a dimple on his right cheek that appeared when he smiled or laughed, which she was able to make him do. His short black hair and the slight shadow across his cheeks highlighted his strong jaw line, which suited the rest of his body, which was broad and strong. He was impossibly handsome, Hermione realized, but all of that atrocious behavior before had completely wiped that away for her. As they both stood and he was about to take his leave, he stuck out his hand to shake. She shook it, but held onto his just like he had done to her before.

"Thomas," she said softly. He started, obviously surprised at her using his first name, which she had never done. "I enjoyed talking to you today. Can I give you a word of advice?"

"Sure," he said, still holding her hand, curious.

"If this was the man I had met months ago, I would have taken you up on that lunch offer. He's much nicer and much more charming."

He blinked a couple times and then let out a bark of laughter. "Is that so?" She nodded. "Well, I certainly cocked things up, didn't I?"

"A little bit."

They both laughed and looked down, realizing they were still holding hands. They let go and he looked up at her, almost sheepishly.

"Well, I'll probably see you next week. It was lovely talking to you, Hermione."

"Bye, Thomas."

They smiled at each other and he walked out of the office.

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Hermione stepped out of the floo and hurried to her room.

"George?" she called.

There was no response. She was pretty sure he had already left. Good, that would make getting ready quite a bit easier. She walked to the bathroom, shedding her clothes as she went. Ten minutes later found her stepping out of the bathroom, hair wash and dried and some light makeup put on. She walked out, feeling oddly free as she walked back to her room stark naked, and went to get dressed. She never got to do this when George was around. Maybe it would be nice having her own flat. She stared at her cupboard for a few minutes before she decided to go with the basics. She wasn't going on a date after all. She stepped in front of her mirror and nodded in approval. Jeans, some simple flats, and a dark green blouse. Good enough, she thought as she hurried from the room and grabbed her bag. She debated grabbing a jacket, but it was a warmer night and she was only going down the street, so she decided against it. She headed out through the store and out onto Diagon Alley, turning left as she headed towards George's favorite pub, The Crooked Wand. A few moments later, she stepped through the door, her eyes immediately scanning for a familiar face.

"Hermione!"

She looked over to see George waving at her. She smiled and hurried over. He stood up when she got there and gave her a tight hug, which she returned. Once he had let her go, he turned and gestured to the woman in the chair next to him.

"Hermione, I'd like you to meet Evangeline Watson."

Hermione turned her head and was immediately floored. She felt her jaw slacken and she shook herself, immediately smiling and holding out her hand to shake. Evangeline grasped it and gave it a good, firm shake.

"Nice to meet you, Hermione," she said, her voice pleasant.

"It's a pleasure," said Hermione, trying to maintain a casual yet friendly expression.

This had to be a joke. It had to be. This woman was flawless. And not like Cressida, who strove to look perfect at every moment. This girl was natural and unfairly gorgeous. She was slender, willowy, with long, graceful arms and legs. Her hair, which seemed blonde in the dim light, swung perfectly into place every time she moved, and her green eyes were wide with excitement as she talked about something that Hermione was not paying attention to. Hermione smiled and nodded, not hearing a word the girl was saying. She seemed perfect, head to toe, with her blemish-free skin and perfect nails. She was wearing some jeans and a light sweater, but she seemed so effortlessly elegant that Hermione felt thoroughly underdressed. George spoke up and Hermione snapped back to attention.

"I'll be right back," he said with a smile before standing up and heading towards the toilet.

"And there he goes, leaving us to bond or something," Evangeline joked.

Hermione smiled, feeling slightly that she hadn't been listening before to what Evangeline had been saying. They talked about their careers and their hobbies for a while until George came back with fresh refills. Apparently, she was an artist, a painter, whose work was going to be in a famous gallery in two weeks. She was also an avid reader. Hermione was absolutely thrown; it was like talking to herself, and she had no idea what to do. She wasn't used to having intellectual conversations with people she met in bars. Just to get Evangeline off the topic of magical creature rights, which Hermione knew was one of her bones of contention, she asked, "So you two have been dating for two weeks now, right?"

"Yes," said George with a smile and a fond look at Evangeline, who beamed back.

"How did you two meet?"

"It's actually a funny story," started Evangeline. Hermione already knew it wasn't going to be. Inevitably, stories that were prefaced with this is so funny rarely were. "We were at this very bar, and I noticed George kept watching me. I knew he was going to come over."

"How did you even know?" George cut across, smiling at her as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

"I just did. Now shush, you're interrupting," she said in a falsely-stern voice. George just laughed. Hermione frowned slightly. He didn't laugh like that when she shushed him. He usually rolled his eyes and continued talking. She realized her brow was furrowed and quickly arranged her face into an interested smile. "So when he finally came to make his move, I was prepared. I walked a little ways away from my mates and immediately introduced myself and handed him a card with my name on it. And that's it!"

Well, she was right. That was not amusing in the least. Why did couples always think their story was unique and interesting when it was so obviously mundane? She had never thought the way she had met Malcolm had been funny. It had been pretty ordinary, honestly. Hermione laughed pleasantly and said, "That is funny!" before taking another sip of her Butterbeer. Somehow, she figured this was not going to be her last beer or last lie of the night.

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"Well, I'd better be off. I'll let you two have some time to yourselves. Merlin knows I've been here taking up your time," she said with a smile, already standing and grabbing her bag. She resisted the urge to knock back the rest of her beer in a very un-Hermione-ish manner. It had been that kind of a night.

"Oh, really?" said George, a little sadly. "Already?"

"Oh stop it," she teased, "I'll see you at home later." Hermione was pleased to see Evangeline stiffen slightly. She wondered if George had mentioned they lived together.

"Very true," said George with a smile, standing up to give her a tight hug.

Evangeline stood up and walked around the table, wrapping her arms around Hermione as soon as George had let her go.

"It was so wonderful to meet you," she said sweetly.

"You as well," said Hermione with a smile, patting the woman awkwardly on the back, wanting the hug to end. In comparison to this woman, Hermione felt like a squat little troll and the hugging was not helping alleviate that sudden drop in her self esteem. Evangeline let her go and Hermione gave the couple a quick wave before hurrying out and back down the street, but it felt as though she was trying to wade through mud with how long the journey to their apartment suddenly seemed. She finally let out a huff and spun on the spot, landing with a crack! in the middle of their sitting room. She strode into her room, throwing her bag on the ground, not caring that her lipstick and wallet started spilling out and rolling across the floor. She quickly shed her clothes, leaving them in a heap on the floor, and pulled on some old pyjamas which consisted of a men's shirt that had been worn so often it was now tissue soft and some shorts.

"Oh, well, when I was in South America, painting the rugged and beautiful terrain…" mocked Hermione to the silent house. "When I was in Uganda helping impoverished families..."

She groaned and threw herself onto her bed. She heard a little mrow and Balthazar jumped onto the bed, rubbing his fuzzy head against her arm before stepping on her pillow and beginning to knead it.

"Why does she have to be so bloody perfect?" she asked Balthazar, who just tilted his head and blinked at her.

She knew she should be happy for George, but as she sat there, absent-mindedly petting her purring kitten, she frowned at the memory of Evangeline. Could she hate someone for being too perfect, too nice? Was that allowed? She disliked many people because they were absolutely horrid, but Evangeline wasn't. She wasn't anything negative. She was beautiful, kind, funny, intelligent, and witty. She was an award-winning artist, a humanitarian, and a genuinely nice person. And Hermione hated her for it.