A/N: This chapter's for Molly, who got my ass in-check by reviewing all my
stories and asking me to update! Yeah!
Disclaimer: All characters except for Robert Honeyduke and Paul belong to JK Rowling.
The ringing of a doorbell echoed in Hermione's ears and she rolled over in bed, groaning. She ran her hands through her tousled curls and grabbed a robe, tying it around herself as she padded through the hallway. "I'm coming, I'm coming." She fumbled for the lock, still rubbing at her eyes.
"Morning." Ron stood in the doorway, clad in a blue sweater and jeans. He eyed her attire with a critical eye, but didn't say anything.
She held the door open for him, a little uncomfortable under his gaze. "I thought you were sending a driver to pick me up."
"I thought it'd look better if I picked you up myself…It's what I'd do if this reconciliation was real." He stuffed his hands into the back of his pockets. "Are you packed, or will I have to wait?"
She frowned, but made no comment. "I'm packed, but would you mind waiting for me to change?"
He shrugged. "Go ahead. I'll stay here."
"I wasn't asking you to join me," she shot back, heading down the hall.
Ron stuffed his hands into his back pockets, looking around. A quick tour of her home revealed a nicely furnished kitchen, a small library/study and a guest room. As he came back to the living room, He could see an owl hovering in the window and went to retrieve it. It hooted, friendly-like at him. "Hey there, little guy."
"I don't remember asking you to get my mail for me while I was gone." She grabbed the handle of her roll-along suitcase, drawing even with him.
"He probably would've flown away."
Hermione sighed inaudibly and untied the letter attached to the owl's minute leg. He was small, although bigger than their old owl, Pigwidgeon. She stroked his feathers absentmindedly as she read.
Hermione,
Why didn't you tell me you were going to live with Weasley? His PR man called me last night. Not very nice, love. Anyway, take this owl; that way you won't have an excuse not to send me letters every day. I haven't named him; that's up to you. He's from Ireland, so expect him to have a pretty bad temper. He also likes liquors, so make sure to cap them when he's around. Take care. Owl me as soon as you get to the hellhole.
Seamus
She felt a pang of guilt as she read. She hadn't thought of him in the least...it was probably due to the whirlwind of packing she had to do yesterday, she reasoned. That's all. "I get to keep him..." Instead of replying with a hoot, it flew to Ron, landing on his arm.
"I think he likes me." To her aggrievance, it hooted its agreement. "What's his name?"
"He doesn't have one yet; Seamus said that it was up to me." Hermione paused. Ron didn't reply, only smoothed the owl's feathers down. "I like Aidan. That's the name of the Irish Seeker, isn't it?" She grabbed a tea strainer from a kitchen cupboard, handily transfiguring it into an owl cage.
Sticking his arm into it, he let the small creature hop in before securely shutting the door. He then brushed some stray feathers off his sleeve and sent her a condesending look. "Aidan Lynch retired almost a decade ago. All those crashes at the World Cup didn't wear off; he's almost as loony as Ludo Bagman now."
"I think it's a nice name." She turned to the owl. "Isn't that right, Aidan?" The little thing gave her a reproachful look.
"I don't think he likes that name much," commented Ron.
"I didn't ask for your opinion."
"I'm giving it anyway." He cocked his head to the side in a very Harry-like way before announcing, "I have it; he looks like a Viktor to me."
Hermione scowled as the owl flew excitedly around his cage, obviously delighted at the suggestion. "That's not very funny."
He smirked. "I didn't say it was." Turning to the owl, he said, "Come off it, Viktor. Shut up so we can go." The owl obliged, fluttering to the very edge of his perch so as to be able to watch Ron pick up Hermione's suitcases.
"I can carry everything myself!"
"I didn't say you couldn't," he replied coolly. "I just thought you'd like to carry Vicky's cage."
"Don't call him Vicky." The words flew out of her mouth before she could stop them.
Ron smirked, setting the cases in the fireplace. "Right." He dug into a pocket of his jeans, fishing out a small bag of Floo Powder. "I'll go first. Incendio!" He tossed the stuff into the newly-risen fire and called, "My house!" With a loud pop, he dissapeared.
Picking up Viktor's cage, Hermione followed suit, wondering why in the world she had agreed to such a faulty scheme.
********
"Your room is upstairs to the left," he directed, watching her stumble over the fireplace with birdcage in tow.
She noticed her suitcases were being floated up by a House-Elf, who gave her a curious but polite smile. "Alright."
"You don't mind settling in alone, do you? I have a lot of papers to go over."
She nodded. "That'll be fine."
"I'll see you later then, love." The term of endearment was obviously a front for the elf, who had been looking from one to the other curiously. Ron gave Hermione a brief, tight smile before disappearing into what she presumed was his office.
Hermione followed her (she thought it might be female) upstairs. "Hello. I'm Hermione."
"Yes, you is Mr. Wheezy's wife. Mr Wheezy says you is coming back from America." Her big round eyes blinked at her, and she straightened what looked to be a Weasley jumper. "Mr Wheezy says you come back to help him."
"Yes, that's right." Hermione frowned as she watched the creature bustle about the room. "Er…how does Ron treat you?"
The elf's ears perked up. "Oh, Mr. Wheezy is a good master. He doesn't like to be called Master. He pays Blinken lots, and Blinken gets days off to visit Blinken's friends anytime." She fluffed a pillow. "Mr. Wheezy is good master, is better than most."
Hermione was surprised at her response. "That's wonderful."
The elf beamed, bowing. "Goodbye, Mrs. Wheezy. Blinken will see you tommorow."
Bidding her goodbye, she watched her leave and collapsed onto the bed. She glanced at her surroundings, taken aback by the opulence. Everything matched so well, she doubted Ron had decorated it himself.
'Speaking of Ron…' she thought. How was she going to cope with being a wife again? Would she be able to keep appearances up well enough to fool the press and businessmen? How much time would she actually spend with him? She sighed deeply before rolling over onto her stomach. 'It won't be so bad,' she reassured herself. 'Just think of it as a dress rehearsal for when you marry Seamus.' She propped her head up on her hands, trying to imagine herself as Seamus' wife or the mother of his children, but somehow all she could see was her first wedding and the almost delirious happiness she had felt. Yawning a bit, she checked her watch. There were a few hours left until she was to lunch with Ron at the Three Broomsticks; it had been Paul's idea to get them seen by the right people.
"Maybe I should rest a bit..." she muttered, curling up and resting her head on her arms. She was asleep almost immediately.
Hermione woke up with a start. The sun was already high in the sky, and she was still in the rumpled clothes she had hastily thrown on that morning. Stretching, she slid out of bed and grabbed her wand. She performed a simple Cleaning charm on herself (there wasn't time to take a long bath, like she wanted to) and swung open the closet door, knowing Blinken had probably hung up her clothing for her. She selected some regular robes, not too traditional but nice enough for where they were going. After a bit of scrutiny she decided to tie up her hair instead of leaving it down; it was pulled into a soft bun. Not too much makeup; it was never really her thing. She glanced in the mirror after everything and headed down the stairs quickly.
Ron was already in the sitting room adjacent to the front door. He was checking his watch, frowning, and didn't notice her arrival until she cleared her throat softly.
"I thought you were still asleep."
She gave him a small smile, head tilted up to look at him. "I've been awake for a while. Are we leaving soon?"
"Yeah, hold on." He strapped on a watch that was laying on the table and straightened up again.
Hermione was unsure of how to broach what had been on her mind to him. "Ron, I was wondering…what reason will you give for our reconciliation?"
His brow furrowed. "When you came back we both realized we were still in love with each other. Basically what Eastwood said."
"What about when we split?"
"Same as when we first separated; our careers demanded too much of us and we had to separate to achieve our goals." He turned abruptly. "Soon we'll have to go to Ottery St. Catchpole and the Burrow."
She gulped in spite of herself. "Do we have to?"
"Of course," he replied. "Fred and George come up with all the ideas there, and it'd be good for us to be seen in my hometown."
"I see." She bit her lip, a little nervous. "I don't want to lie to your family, though-"
"I have no plans of doing so. I've already told them."
She nodded slowly, still doubtful of what her reception would be when she got to the Weasleys'. "I think we should get going."
"I suppose you're right." They both disapparated quickly.
Glancing around, Hermione saw that Hogsmeade hadn't changed at all. She could see the faint outline of Hogwarts in the distance, and the small village shops were still in operation. As they walked, she knew people were glancing curiously at them, and occaisionally the click of a camera could be heard.
"Almost there," Ron muttered. "We should be able to slip in without anyone noticing." How very wrong he was.
As they rounded the corner, they were assaulted by a plethora of news people, photographers, and other hangers-on; the babble of sound intensified as people realized they were there. Flashes were going off, temporarily disorienting Hermione. She blinked in an effort to get the bright spots of light to go away, and felt Ron's arm go around her, supporting her by the waste. Grateful though she was, she still felt the urge to throw it off and hurry into the establishment.
Calls of "Ron! Turn this way!" and "Hermione, over here!" came at them from every direction, and they were forced to wait for a good few minutes, small smiles plastered on their faces. One of the men yelled, "How about a kiss for the front page?"
Her mind panicked, and she searched for something witty to say. If Ron were to kiss her now, while she was still confused about her feelings for him, well... "I'm sorry, I don't kiss men I don't know." This earned a roar of laughter, and she felt him give her an appreciative squeeze.
"What made you two decide to get back together?"
Ron winked at her, then responded. "Classic, really. When Hermione came back from the States we both realized that we were still madly in love. Heart over mind, I suppose." A nostalgic sigh swept through the older females in the crowd, while the males snickered but scribbled quotes down anyway.
"Are you going to woo her all over again?" yelled another.
"Oh, we'll court each other," Hermione said. "I am a modern woman, you know."
After this, they were able to weave their way through into the pub. The waitress, who looked a lot like Madam Rosemerta, waved to Ron and gestured to a booth towards the back. "I saved your usual spot."
"Thanks, Mademoiselle." They seated themselves and he explained. "Rosemerta's niece; she inherited the place."
"You two did great." A different voice intruded upon them and Paul was suddenly standing in front of them. "Budge up, you." He slid in next to Ron. "You acted like a pro, Hermione. The press loved you."
"I'd rather leave it up to the real professionals next time," she teased. "You know, if you really wanted I could've brewed up some Polyjuice Potion. You could've answered however you wanted." They both grinned. She found herself liking this man, mainly because he was the first person to say more than a few sentences to her the whole day.
Ron was not amused. "I wouldn't be able to stand gripping Eastwood here by the waist and acting like the devoted husband. If this is going to work, you two need to straighten up."
Paul gave her a commiserating look, nodded at his boss and melted back into the crowd.
Hermione gave her husband a slight smile. "Sorry; I suppose you forgot how I can get sometimes."
"No, I haven't." A humourous edge laced his voice. "I'll get us something to eat." A moment later, he returned with fish and chips, as well as some butterbeer. They ate in silence for a while, before Hermione decided to break the ice.
"So what's it like to be a Managing Director? Surely it's not as fun as inventing the actual products."
"Oh, I invent things, just not products. I just handle the business stuff, which isn't too bad. I get free samples of everything though." He gestured to her drink. "You should watch out for that."
"Urgh..." She stopped in mid-drink.
"I was only joking, Hermione." They smiled at each other, warming up a bit.
"Ron..."
"Hmm?"
"Does this bother you? You know, being 'together' and everything? It's a complete violation of business ethics, in my opinion."
"Damn business ethics." He said bluntly. "That's not what bothers me. It brings up memories of things I'd like not to remember."
This admission cut to the quick, but she was swift in her denial. "It's the same for me."
"Nice to see we're on the same page." He took a quick swig of butterbeer before changing the subject. "Have you spoken to Finnigan yet? I mean, as you're his fiance and all."
Hermione frowned at the question. "I honestly don't think that's any of your business."
"Sorry, but I think he'd have to call or owl directly to my home if he wanted to speak to you most of the time; I may be wrong, but I do have a right to know who's dialling my number."
She relented. "I suppose you're right. No, I haven't spoken to him recently. I was planning to owl him tonight, actually."
"I see. We should be going home soon."
The 'going home' was almost foreign to her. It was strange to be (sort of) living with Ron again, and to be coming and going with him in tow was almost alien. It was also strangely completing, to have slightly normal conversations with the man again...not that that meant anything. She was just lonely, that's all. "Yes, we should."
"I have to go in to work tommorow," he added, throwing down his money.
Glancing down at the coins, she saw that he'd paid the entire thing. "I can- "
"Pay yourself?"
She scooped up half, handing them back. "I like to equalize things."
"So I've heard." His mouth was pulled into a lopsided smile, but it wasn't the cheerful expression she remembered, only a turning up at the corners really. "Come on." He waved to Madam Rosemerta's niece and they left, disapparating quickly.
A/N: I know it was a weird place to end, but I ran out of ideas. Please review!
Disclaimer: All characters except for Robert Honeyduke and Paul belong to JK Rowling.
The ringing of a doorbell echoed in Hermione's ears and she rolled over in bed, groaning. She ran her hands through her tousled curls and grabbed a robe, tying it around herself as she padded through the hallway. "I'm coming, I'm coming." She fumbled for the lock, still rubbing at her eyes.
"Morning." Ron stood in the doorway, clad in a blue sweater and jeans. He eyed her attire with a critical eye, but didn't say anything.
She held the door open for him, a little uncomfortable under his gaze. "I thought you were sending a driver to pick me up."
"I thought it'd look better if I picked you up myself…It's what I'd do if this reconciliation was real." He stuffed his hands into the back of his pockets. "Are you packed, or will I have to wait?"
She frowned, but made no comment. "I'm packed, but would you mind waiting for me to change?"
He shrugged. "Go ahead. I'll stay here."
"I wasn't asking you to join me," she shot back, heading down the hall.
Ron stuffed his hands into his back pockets, looking around. A quick tour of her home revealed a nicely furnished kitchen, a small library/study and a guest room. As he came back to the living room, He could see an owl hovering in the window and went to retrieve it. It hooted, friendly-like at him. "Hey there, little guy."
"I don't remember asking you to get my mail for me while I was gone." She grabbed the handle of her roll-along suitcase, drawing even with him.
"He probably would've flown away."
Hermione sighed inaudibly and untied the letter attached to the owl's minute leg. He was small, although bigger than their old owl, Pigwidgeon. She stroked his feathers absentmindedly as she read.
Hermione,
Why didn't you tell me you were going to live with Weasley? His PR man called me last night. Not very nice, love. Anyway, take this owl; that way you won't have an excuse not to send me letters every day. I haven't named him; that's up to you. He's from Ireland, so expect him to have a pretty bad temper. He also likes liquors, so make sure to cap them when he's around. Take care. Owl me as soon as you get to the hellhole.
Seamus
She felt a pang of guilt as she read. She hadn't thought of him in the least...it was probably due to the whirlwind of packing she had to do yesterday, she reasoned. That's all. "I get to keep him..." Instead of replying with a hoot, it flew to Ron, landing on his arm.
"I think he likes me." To her aggrievance, it hooted its agreement. "What's his name?"
"He doesn't have one yet; Seamus said that it was up to me." Hermione paused. Ron didn't reply, only smoothed the owl's feathers down. "I like Aidan. That's the name of the Irish Seeker, isn't it?" She grabbed a tea strainer from a kitchen cupboard, handily transfiguring it into an owl cage.
Sticking his arm into it, he let the small creature hop in before securely shutting the door. He then brushed some stray feathers off his sleeve and sent her a condesending look. "Aidan Lynch retired almost a decade ago. All those crashes at the World Cup didn't wear off; he's almost as loony as Ludo Bagman now."
"I think it's a nice name." She turned to the owl. "Isn't that right, Aidan?" The little thing gave her a reproachful look.
"I don't think he likes that name much," commented Ron.
"I didn't ask for your opinion."
"I'm giving it anyway." He cocked his head to the side in a very Harry-like way before announcing, "I have it; he looks like a Viktor to me."
Hermione scowled as the owl flew excitedly around his cage, obviously delighted at the suggestion. "That's not very funny."
He smirked. "I didn't say it was." Turning to the owl, he said, "Come off it, Viktor. Shut up so we can go." The owl obliged, fluttering to the very edge of his perch so as to be able to watch Ron pick up Hermione's suitcases.
"I can carry everything myself!"
"I didn't say you couldn't," he replied coolly. "I just thought you'd like to carry Vicky's cage."
"Don't call him Vicky." The words flew out of her mouth before she could stop them.
Ron smirked, setting the cases in the fireplace. "Right." He dug into a pocket of his jeans, fishing out a small bag of Floo Powder. "I'll go first. Incendio!" He tossed the stuff into the newly-risen fire and called, "My house!" With a loud pop, he dissapeared.
Picking up Viktor's cage, Hermione followed suit, wondering why in the world she had agreed to such a faulty scheme.
********
"Your room is upstairs to the left," he directed, watching her stumble over the fireplace with birdcage in tow.
She noticed her suitcases were being floated up by a House-Elf, who gave her a curious but polite smile. "Alright."
"You don't mind settling in alone, do you? I have a lot of papers to go over."
She nodded. "That'll be fine."
"I'll see you later then, love." The term of endearment was obviously a front for the elf, who had been looking from one to the other curiously. Ron gave Hermione a brief, tight smile before disappearing into what she presumed was his office.
Hermione followed her (she thought it might be female) upstairs. "Hello. I'm Hermione."
"Yes, you is Mr. Wheezy's wife. Mr Wheezy says you is coming back from America." Her big round eyes blinked at her, and she straightened what looked to be a Weasley jumper. "Mr Wheezy says you come back to help him."
"Yes, that's right." Hermione frowned as she watched the creature bustle about the room. "Er…how does Ron treat you?"
The elf's ears perked up. "Oh, Mr. Wheezy is a good master. He doesn't like to be called Master. He pays Blinken lots, and Blinken gets days off to visit Blinken's friends anytime." She fluffed a pillow. "Mr. Wheezy is good master, is better than most."
Hermione was surprised at her response. "That's wonderful."
The elf beamed, bowing. "Goodbye, Mrs. Wheezy. Blinken will see you tommorow."
Bidding her goodbye, she watched her leave and collapsed onto the bed. She glanced at her surroundings, taken aback by the opulence. Everything matched so well, she doubted Ron had decorated it himself.
'Speaking of Ron…' she thought. How was she going to cope with being a wife again? Would she be able to keep appearances up well enough to fool the press and businessmen? How much time would she actually spend with him? She sighed deeply before rolling over onto her stomach. 'It won't be so bad,' she reassured herself. 'Just think of it as a dress rehearsal for when you marry Seamus.' She propped her head up on her hands, trying to imagine herself as Seamus' wife or the mother of his children, but somehow all she could see was her first wedding and the almost delirious happiness she had felt. Yawning a bit, she checked her watch. There were a few hours left until she was to lunch with Ron at the Three Broomsticks; it had been Paul's idea to get them seen by the right people.
"Maybe I should rest a bit..." she muttered, curling up and resting her head on her arms. She was asleep almost immediately.
Hermione woke up with a start. The sun was already high in the sky, and she was still in the rumpled clothes she had hastily thrown on that morning. Stretching, she slid out of bed and grabbed her wand. She performed a simple Cleaning charm on herself (there wasn't time to take a long bath, like she wanted to) and swung open the closet door, knowing Blinken had probably hung up her clothing for her. She selected some regular robes, not too traditional but nice enough for where they were going. After a bit of scrutiny she decided to tie up her hair instead of leaving it down; it was pulled into a soft bun. Not too much makeup; it was never really her thing. She glanced in the mirror after everything and headed down the stairs quickly.
Ron was already in the sitting room adjacent to the front door. He was checking his watch, frowning, and didn't notice her arrival until she cleared her throat softly.
"I thought you were still asleep."
She gave him a small smile, head tilted up to look at him. "I've been awake for a while. Are we leaving soon?"
"Yeah, hold on." He strapped on a watch that was laying on the table and straightened up again.
Hermione was unsure of how to broach what had been on her mind to him. "Ron, I was wondering…what reason will you give for our reconciliation?"
His brow furrowed. "When you came back we both realized we were still in love with each other. Basically what Eastwood said."
"What about when we split?"
"Same as when we first separated; our careers demanded too much of us and we had to separate to achieve our goals." He turned abruptly. "Soon we'll have to go to Ottery St. Catchpole and the Burrow."
She gulped in spite of herself. "Do we have to?"
"Of course," he replied. "Fred and George come up with all the ideas there, and it'd be good for us to be seen in my hometown."
"I see." She bit her lip, a little nervous. "I don't want to lie to your family, though-"
"I have no plans of doing so. I've already told them."
She nodded slowly, still doubtful of what her reception would be when she got to the Weasleys'. "I think we should get going."
"I suppose you're right." They both disapparated quickly.
Glancing around, Hermione saw that Hogsmeade hadn't changed at all. She could see the faint outline of Hogwarts in the distance, and the small village shops were still in operation. As they walked, she knew people were glancing curiously at them, and occaisionally the click of a camera could be heard.
"Almost there," Ron muttered. "We should be able to slip in without anyone noticing." How very wrong he was.
As they rounded the corner, they were assaulted by a plethora of news people, photographers, and other hangers-on; the babble of sound intensified as people realized they were there. Flashes were going off, temporarily disorienting Hermione. She blinked in an effort to get the bright spots of light to go away, and felt Ron's arm go around her, supporting her by the waste. Grateful though she was, she still felt the urge to throw it off and hurry into the establishment.
Calls of "Ron! Turn this way!" and "Hermione, over here!" came at them from every direction, and they were forced to wait for a good few minutes, small smiles plastered on their faces. One of the men yelled, "How about a kiss for the front page?"
Her mind panicked, and she searched for something witty to say. If Ron were to kiss her now, while she was still confused about her feelings for him, well... "I'm sorry, I don't kiss men I don't know." This earned a roar of laughter, and she felt him give her an appreciative squeeze.
"What made you two decide to get back together?"
Ron winked at her, then responded. "Classic, really. When Hermione came back from the States we both realized that we were still madly in love. Heart over mind, I suppose." A nostalgic sigh swept through the older females in the crowd, while the males snickered but scribbled quotes down anyway.
"Are you going to woo her all over again?" yelled another.
"Oh, we'll court each other," Hermione said. "I am a modern woman, you know."
After this, they were able to weave their way through into the pub. The waitress, who looked a lot like Madam Rosemerta, waved to Ron and gestured to a booth towards the back. "I saved your usual spot."
"Thanks, Mademoiselle." They seated themselves and he explained. "Rosemerta's niece; she inherited the place."
"You two did great." A different voice intruded upon them and Paul was suddenly standing in front of them. "Budge up, you." He slid in next to Ron. "You acted like a pro, Hermione. The press loved you."
"I'd rather leave it up to the real professionals next time," she teased. "You know, if you really wanted I could've brewed up some Polyjuice Potion. You could've answered however you wanted." They both grinned. She found herself liking this man, mainly because he was the first person to say more than a few sentences to her the whole day.
Ron was not amused. "I wouldn't be able to stand gripping Eastwood here by the waist and acting like the devoted husband. If this is going to work, you two need to straighten up."
Paul gave her a commiserating look, nodded at his boss and melted back into the crowd.
Hermione gave her husband a slight smile. "Sorry; I suppose you forgot how I can get sometimes."
"No, I haven't." A humourous edge laced his voice. "I'll get us something to eat." A moment later, he returned with fish and chips, as well as some butterbeer. They ate in silence for a while, before Hermione decided to break the ice.
"So what's it like to be a Managing Director? Surely it's not as fun as inventing the actual products."
"Oh, I invent things, just not products. I just handle the business stuff, which isn't too bad. I get free samples of everything though." He gestured to her drink. "You should watch out for that."
"Urgh..." She stopped in mid-drink.
"I was only joking, Hermione." They smiled at each other, warming up a bit.
"Ron..."
"Hmm?"
"Does this bother you? You know, being 'together' and everything? It's a complete violation of business ethics, in my opinion."
"Damn business ethics." He said bluntly. "That's not what bothers me. It brings up memories of things I'd like not to remember."
This admission cut to the quick, but she was swift in her denial. "It's the same for me."
"Nice to see we're on the same page." He took a quick swig of butterbeer before changing the subject. "Have you spoken to Finnigan yet? I mean, as you're his fiance and all."
Hermione frowned at the question. "I honestly don't think that's any of your business."
"Sorry, but I think he'd have to call or owl directly to my home if he wanted to speak to you most of the time; I may be wrong, but I do have a right to know who's dialling my number."
She relented. "I suppose you're right. No, I haven't spoken to him recently. I was planning to owl him tonight, actually."
"I see. We should be going home soon."
The 'going home' was almost foreign to her. It was strange to be (sort of) living with Ron again, and to be coming and going with him in tow was almost alien. It was also strangely completing, to have slightly normal conversations with the man again...not that that meant anything. She was just lonely, that's all. "Yes, we should."
"I have to go in to work tommorow," he added, throwing down his money.
Glancing down at the coins, she saw that he'd paid the entire thing. "I can- "
"Pay yourself?"
She scooped up half, handing them back. "I like to equalize things."
"So I've heard." His mouth was pulled into a lopsided smile, but it wasn't the cheerful expression she remembered, only a turning up at the corners really. "Come on." He waved to Madam Rosemerta's niece and they left, disapparating quickly.
A/N: I know it was a weird place to end, but I ran out of ideas. Please review!