Hermione got home at eleven that night. She fed Crookshanks, had
dinner, changed into her nightdress and looked unenthusiastically
at the forms she had to write out. There had to be twelve copies,
all in her best writing.

She took them into her room to write. She didn't trust herself to be
working at the table in the kitchen in case she fell asleep. Hermione
lay on her front on the rag rug beside her bed, in front of the heater.
More than anything she would have loved to just crawl into bed and
sleep. Crookshanks came along and glad for a distraction, she spent at
least ten minutes scratching him behind the ears and telling him how
fantastic he was.

Hermione Granger, you're really just a big teenager, she thought,
watching Crookshanks jump up onto the quilt.

It was a bit spooky in the dark apartment, practically silent except
for the humming heater. She'd turned off all the lights, so weird
shadows reberverated off the walls and into the forboding hallway.

The quill scratched up and down the parchement, copying the form out
over and over. Hermione was sort of scared. She heard a door slam out
in the street and very faint heavy metal music coming from the floor
below. Hermione faintly recalled those awful ghost stories that her
cousins always told her at family reunions when she was little. In
particular the one about the girl home alone who was chopped up by
the Mad Axe-Man of London.

She was just thinking that all she would need would be a pschopathic
murderer knocking at the door to make the mood complete when the
doorbell rang.

Hermione almost screamed. Oh, pull yourself together, it's probably
just the landlord here for a gripe about your late rent, she thought.

She grabbed her wand, muttered "Lumos.", (with the intention that she
would put it out and hide it up her sleeve if it WAS the landlord),
tiptoed to the door and opened it a fraction.

"Oh, Ron, really!" she reprimanded, opening the door all the way and
standing with her hands on her hips. "You gave me such a fright. Have
you any idea how late it is?"

Ron was standing there looking sheepish. "Er... hey, Hermione. I-
you... wait a second, what are you doing up this late?" He frowned.

"Working," said Hermione shortly.

"Oh," replied Ron. "Well, anyway, you left this in Florean Fortescue's."
He held out a sheaf of parchement. It was her appointment list.
"I would have gone after you, but it says on here that you were in a
meeting."

Hermione took it. She wanted to throttle herself and thank Ron, both
sounded extremely appealing. She muttered, "Thanks, Ron. Want to come
in?"

"Can't, thanks, Mum doesn't even know I'm out this late. If she goes
upstairs and finds my bed empty she'll make me de-knome the garden
every day 'til I retire from work."

"Your mum still punishes you? How..."

"How what?" said Ron defensively.

"Nothing." said Hermione quickly.

Ron gave her a warning look and then said briskly, "Well, besides, I
wanted to ask you something."

"I'm listening."

"Well, the guys at work managed to get Cannons tickets for this Sunday."

"That's nice. They're you favourite team, aren't they?"

"Yeah. This guy- don't like him much really- he's paying and
everything, but there's one catch."

"What's that?"

"We all have to bring girls." Ron was rocking back and forth on
his feet, speaking offhandedly- but Hermione noticed that the
tips of his ears had gone red.

"Ah," she said. "Is that so?"

"Yeah. Well, girlfriends, actually, but I don't have one and I was
wondering..."

"Yes?"

"Want to come?"

"I'll see if I can get off work. I think I'll be able to wangle
it, I've been turning up early and leaving late every day since I
started at the Ministry. Mmm, I think I'll be able to. Where d'you
want to meet?"

"A little before eight, at the Chudley pitch. You all right with that?"

"Yes."

They just stood there for a second. Hermione said, "I'll send an owl
confirming, right?"

"Okay. Thanks, Hermione." Ron gave a small wave and Disapparated.

Hermione didn't know why, really, but she was determined to get off
work early so that she could go to the game with Ron. She'd stand up
to Percy. She would!