One fine morning towards the end of March, Hermione was in her office grading papers when there came a tap on her door.

"Come in," she called, and the door opened.

Ginny Potter was not the sort of person who bothered with small talk. "You're not getting away this time," she said.

Hermione blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"From the visit. You got out of it at Christmas because you had a sudden-and suspicious-attack of charity, but not this time. I am claiming you for the first week of the summer." She raised a warning finger. "No. Don't you dare protest. I owled your parents, and they said they weren't expecting you then, so don't even try. I don't care who's dying or what you've been invited to. My family haven't seen you since the summer. My father is practically coming apart at the seams, he's so stuffed with questions to ask you about Muggle musical players, and Charlie has a book he wants to give you.

"Oh, and Ron will only be there for the first two days. He's going off to Italy with a friend he met through Quidditch." Something about Ginny's tone made Hermione wonder if Ron's traveling companion was female, but she didn't ask.

"I'm going now, if only so you can't come up with an excuse to skip out." Ginny moved to go, but Hermione called her back.

"Stay," she said, laughing. "Stay. I promise not to come up with a good excuse until you're gone. Anyway, I'll want to send it by letter, so you can't hex me."

"Fair enough," Ginny relented. She sat down in the chair usually reserved for troublesome students.

Hermione might be Ginny's brother's ex-girlfriend, but she was also the youngest Weasley's best friend. There was no awkwardness, no pregnant pauses. At least, there weren't until Ginny asked about the Defense against the Dark Arts teacher. Hermione jumped a foot in the air and babbled that Fleur was fine. She thanked Merlin that the chill of March meant she was wearing her usual long sleeves, revealing neither the amethyst bracelet not the scars that Ginny was accustomed to see concealed. Realizing that she wasn't making any sense, Hermione shut her mouth and smiled uncomfortably, looking at a spot in the air just left of her friend's shoulder, wishing she'd planned an easy way to tell the Weasleys she was dating a woman they had good reason to dislike.

Ginny, recognizing that Hermione wasn't watching her, raised an eyebrow and mouthed, "Okaaaay." She waited a moment to see if Hermione could come up with a more coherent response to her casual inquiry, and then, deciding that that was highly unlikely, asked, "Is something wrong?"

"No, no," Hermione hastened to reassure her, "I was just thinking. About things." Hermione would have given any bobble-head a run for its money.

Ginny coughed discreetly, and the nodding stopped. "Are you getting along with Phlegm?"

Hermione jumped again. Oh, no, no. I mean, yes! She's fine. She's perfectly nice..." Hermione smiled dreamily, and Ginny's eyebrows rose still higher.

"At Christmas, I got the impression you were fond of her. So you're friends?"

"Yes, yes. We're friends-that's it."

"All right," Ginny said slowly. "Would you like to bring her with you?"

Hermione choked on her saliva. "Are you sure that's a good idea? I mean, with your history?"

Ginny shrugged. "Maybe not. But her daughter's here, I heard. Mum will put up with anything if it means getting to see even one of her grandchildren. Bring Dominique, and all will be forgiven, or at least temporarily excused."

This was not a good idea. Hermione knew this, and yet she found herself saying, "I'll ask her."

"You do that," Ginny said, rising and taking her bag. "I have to go, I have an interview at noon. See you, then."

"See you," Hermione replied. Ginny left, and she let her head fall on the desk.

Not good.