Author's Notes: Here's a poem I wrote when trying to frantically finish this fic on Sugar Quill before OotP came out:

The 21st of June,

Is coming very soon.

And though this fic's not done,

(There's a Chapter Twenty-One),

I hope that you'll still read it,

Despite Order of the Phoenix.

Yeah, 'it' and 'Phoenix' don't rhyme. But let's pretend it did.


I changed quite a bit around in this chapter, particularly in the dinner scene. Let's see if anyone notices.

***

"And so, the accountant's boss says, 'I think you've miscalculated the figures in the fourth quarter.' And the accountant replies, 'Sir, that's not the balance sheet, that's your wife!'"

Charles Griney giggled hysterically at his own joke, attracting many disapproving stares from the Muggles around them and tight, strained smiles from their companions. Hermione smiled feebly, and then nonchalantly dropped her napkin so that she could duck under table and hide her burning face.

The two were dining at a classy Muggle restaurant in London along with one of Charles' business associates, Eustace Flaherty, and his wife, Magnolia. And Charles had done nothing but embarrass Hermione since their arrival at the restaurant. As she emerged from her sanctuary beneath the table, Hermione caught many well-to-do Muggles clad in expensive-looking cocktail dresses and Italian suits still glancing over at him, eyebrows raised. Hermione sighed, defeated, and didn't make an effort to stop Charles' annoying, high-pitched laughter. She merely rested her chin on her hand and tried to ignore how uncomfortable the expensive black dress she'd bought for the occasion was.

Charles had begun mentioning this 'business dinner' weeks ago, and to Hermione's dismay, he had soon invited her to accompany him. But first, he'd insisted on taking her out to spend a carefully-planned day in London. Hermione would have preferred to stay at Hogwarts and have a quiet evening to herself, but unfortunately, Dumbledore had agreed to give her the day off.

The hustle, bustle, and excitement of the Christmas season seemed to have put a little colour back into the headmaster's face, which had been disturbingly pale ever since the incident in the Great Hall a few weeks ago. This had given everyone in the castle a little boost; nearly all of the students wore bright smiles, as did most of the teachers, in spite of the extra supervision being strictly enforced.

Paul and Roger, however, were not forgotten. Daily, Madam Pomfrey had to fight off nosy first-years, friends of the two troublemakers, the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team, and even a few curious members of the staff who wished to see the boys. The hospital matron seemed to be at her wits' end, as were Ron and Hermione, who were not only being pestered by students about Paul's and Roger's condition, but also by their co-workers, who suspected they knew something. This was not helped by the fact that Professors Weasley and Granger had been getting very little sleep lately, spending long nights in the library compiling "The List", as Ron solemnly referred to it. They had narrowed it down to twenty or so names, and were now doing extensive research into each of them. Alonso Drago was now their top priority, but unfortunately, there seemed to be very little information about him in any of the books they'd sifted through.

Hermione was brought back to reality when a waiter, wearing an expression of disdain as he glanced at a boisterously laughing Charles, set down their food in front of them. Charles wiped a tear from his eye as he slowly calmed down, still chuckling.

"Ah, escargot!" he said enthusiastically, rubbing his hands together as he looked at his plate. "A personal favourite of mine, I must say. What's that you've ordered, Eustace?"

"Filet mignon," replied Flaherty. He was a very dull co-worker of Charles', and his wife, a rather glamorous-looking younger woman with vivid red hair, looked extremely bored; not only with the uneventful meal, but also with her husband.

"And what did you order, sugarplum?" Charles asked, turning to Hermione and beaming.

Hermione inadvertently winced at the stupid nickname, and chanced a glance at to see if the Flaherty's had noticed it. Thus far, the day she and Charles had spent together had not been so bad - in fact, it had passed quite pleasantly. The two had quietly strolled around a snowy London, which had been rather enjoyable, and to Hermione's relief, devoid of irritating nicknames or long-winded, one-sided conversations. She seemed to get along with Charles best when they spent some relaxing, quiet time alone. Charles had been sweet, though not overly so, and doting all day, the picture of a gentleman. In fact, the day had been perfect until they'd come for dinner, and suddenly Charles was an exasperating idiot again. Sometimes Hermione swore he was two different people.

"Pasta primavera," Hermione answered her boyfriend dully, swirling red wine around in her glass.

"Ah, excellent choice," Charles commended her, taking a sip of wine then delicately beginning to eat his escargot. It suddenly occurred to Hermione that escargot were snails. She suddenly lost her appetite, and occupied herself with marveling at how she had never thought of this before.

"As I was saying, Charles," continued Eustace, a balding, thin man in his forties, "the budget this year is extremely constraining, and the Minister is not making matters easy for us. We're bending over backwards just to keep funding the Ministry's ongoing projects. I mean, we're not looking to make a profit here - this is a government, after all – but I'm inclined to agree with that…what's-his-name… Stamp? Stark? State? Never mind, it's that young fellow who's been critiquing the financial situation at the Ministry of late."

Charles nodded vigorously in rapt attention. Magnolia rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath. She caught Hermione's eye and gave her a warning look.

"Get out while you still can," she advised her under her breath. Hermione smiled uncertainly back and shook her head, pretending not to have heard.

The rest of the meal was rather uneventful and full of more tedious, financial talk. Hermione tried to make polite conversation with Magnolia, who appeared to be much more interested in the young man waiting on their table. Finally, the attractive young woman pushed back her chair and pursed her painted lips together.

"Eustace, I'm extremely tired," she said rather rudely. "Are we done here?"

Eustace glanced at Charles, who smiled back brightly. "I'm afraid we'll have to excuse ourselves," Eustace apologized in his monotonous voice, reaching into his wallet and fishing out some Muggle currency. He began counting out bills and then, shaking his head in exasperation, left a thick wad on the table. "I suppose that will be sufficient funds. I could never understand their currency."

"Nice to meet you," Hermione said half-heartedly as Eustace reached for his coat.

"Likewise." He nodded to them both, and then was all but dragged out of the restaurant by an impatient Magnolia.

"So," Charles began loudly once they had left, washing down his snails with some wine, "I assume that, after dinner, we'll be Apparating into Hogsmeade, and perhaps we can catch a carriage back to the castle – "

"Charles!" Hermione hissed as the people at the next table glanced over curiously at the word 'Apparating'. "Must you be so loud?"

Charles' face paled as he set down his wine and pushed it away. "I'm terribly sorry," he whispered back, looking genuinely ashamed of himself. "You'd think I'd know better, honestly…I should probably stop drinking this wine…"

Hermione felt a tug at her heart strings; Charles looked like a guilty little boy caught doing something wrong. She smiled despite herself. "It's all right. It happens to the best of us," she assured him.

Charles smiled back at her, the colour slowly returning to his face. He set down his fork and leaned closer to Hermione across the table. Clearing his throat, he took a deep breath. "Hermione," he began, using her real name instead of a nickname, "we've been seeing each other for over a year now…"

Hermione's heart slowly sank. She had a feeling she knew where this was going, and she suddenly felt panicked. Hermione's cheeks flushed and her heart raced as she prayed he wasn't asking her what she thought he was…

"…and I just want you to know," Charles continued, "that I love you." He gave her a dazzling smile.

Hermione felt her pulse return to normal, and breathed a small sigh of relief. There was no ring in sight. She was safe for now.

"Oh," Hermione responded, giving him a small smile and taking a quick sip of wine. "Thank you," she said politely.

Charles' face fell as he leaned back into his chair. "That's…not quite the answer I was looking for," he said dejectedly.

Hermione felt a wave of guilt wash over her. Feeling horrible, she attempted to form the words and reply the way he wanted her to. But she couldn't. The words fell dead on her tongue, refusing to be spoken. She just didn't love Charles. Not in the traditional sense of the word. She did like Charles…usually. After all, he was everything she wanted - handsome, organized, stable, polite, even a member of the Ministry - but she didn't love him. And Hermione couldn't lie to his face.

"It's getting late," the curly-haired witch said hastily, pushing her unfinished food away. "We should probably be going…"

"Very well," Charles replied gloomily, unable to keep the disappointment out of his voice. "Cheque, please," he called dully, motioning to the waiter.

The strong feeling of guilt, which seemed to have lodged itself in Hermione's throat, only became stronger as they walked out of the restaurant and down the street. They headed towards Diagon Alley, where it would be safe to Apparate.

"I'm feeling rather ill," Charles suddenly announced bluntly.

"Oh…" replied Hermione, swallowing the ball of guilt in her throat. "Well, you don't have to accompany me back to the castle…if you don't want…"

"No, no…you shouldn't be left alone," Charles said, shaking his head absent-mindedly. He led Hermione by the elbow into a darkened alleyway on the busy, well-lit street. Charles released her elbow and dropped his arm uselessly to his side, unable any longer to keep the bitter disappointment out of his voice.

"You go ahead, then," he murmured.

Hermione took a step backwards in order to Disapparate, and stepped directly into a large, deep puddle. Letting out a cry of surprise, Hermione quickly jumped out of the puddle, surveying the damage to her new dress. Charles didn't even make a comment, lost in his own disappointment.

Hermione sighed and Disapparated, Charles close behind her.

***

The carriage ride back to Hogwarts had been awkwardly silent, Hermione fidgeting uncomfortably every now and then. She disliked Charles' incessant chatter; but she decided, as they walked up the Grand Staircase at Hogwarts and towards the staff common room, that she disliked this silent, cold treatment even more. Anxious that she had really hurt his feelings, Hermione paused at the entrance to the common room and gave him a gentle smile.

"That was a very lovely day, Charles."

"Mmm," Charles murmured absent-mindedly.

"Good night?" she tried hopefully.

"Good night," Charles returned unenthusiastically. Without so much as a peck on the cheek, he turned around and began walking away. Hermione sighed and wearily gave the password to the staff common room.

After wearily walking into the empty common room, Professor Granger stood still for a few moments, shoulders slumped. She noted in dismay that her costly black dress was completely ruined, and that her shoes and pantyhose were drenched. Frustrated, Hermione began stomping towards the staircase. The Arithmancy professor abruptly stumbled as the high-heel of one of her drenched, black, strappy shoes cracked and broke off.

"Argh!" Hermione shouted, picking up the heel and hurling it as far as she could. It hit the wall opposite to her, bounced off of it, and proceeded to hit her in the face. Hermione stood very still after that, a hopeless look on her face.

"Is something wrong?" a toneless voice behind her asked. Hermione nearly screamed as she whirled around, only to find Charles standing behind her, wringing his hands.

"Oh, no…" Hermione replied, quickly snatching up her heel. "I…I thought you were leaving?"

"Well, I remembered I had some matters to discuss with the Headmaster," Charles responded mechanically.

Hermione stared, feeling vaguely puzzled. "All right…"

Charles stood very still, as if waiting for something. Unsure of what to do or say, Hermione smiled uncertainly and softly touched his lips with her own. Charles brightened considerably, and then waited.

He's waiting for me to say it, Hermione realized in dismay. But I can't. I can't lie to him.

"Good night," she said again, feeling rather stupid.

Charles' face fell, and, to Hermione's surprise, something dark and bitter flashed in his usually bright, eager eyes. "Well…if you'll excuse me," Charles said, unable to keep a tinge of dejectedness out of his otherwise business-like voice. He briskly headed for the common room exit.

Hermione's shoulders slumped as she watched him leave. She should've felt…well, overjoyed. After months of ceaseless pampering and adoration, Charles was finally semi-angry with her. He was human after all. And yet no feeling of elation overcame her; instead, she just felt even guiltier.

"Charles, wait," Hermione said loudly, limping out of the common room with only one shoe on. To her surprise, her boyfriend was nowhere to be found. The corridor outside the common room was dark and vacant. Hermione frowned; the guy certainly moved fast for an accountant.

Thinking she could still catch up to him, Hermione hurriedly turned a corner and took a well-known teacher's shortcut towards Dumbledore's office. The waning moon, shining palely through the enormous windows lining the castle corridors, cast eerie-looking shadows on the rough stone walls. Nonplussed, Hermione continued limping along, far too used to the flickering shadows and looming statues which littered Hogwarts to be unsettled.

She passed the Great Hall as she hobbled towards Dumbledore's office, catching a swift, blurred image of the hall out of the corner of her eye. Ceiling, tables, a shirtless red-headed figure, walls, more tables…

Hermione abruptly stopped and furrowed her eyebrows. She slowly backed up and peered curiously into the Great Hall. To her astonishment, Ron was standing in the middle of the empty hall, shirtless and doing some strange, fluid movements. Hermione couldn't help but be captivated by the foreign movements; they were being performed effortlessly, with a kind of rhythm and balance she hadn't even dreamed her once gawky friend could manage.

"What are you doing?" Hermione blurted out in awe. Ron stopped mid-motion and peered over his shoulder at her, an expression of surprise, followed by a sort of smugness crossing his face.

"Why, Professor Granger," he grinned, crossing over to the Ravenclaw house table. He picked up his shirt and school robes, which had been lying in a heap on the table. "Fancy seeing you here. Enjoy the show?"

Hermione felt herself blush a deep crimson. She quickly shook it off, ignoring his last comment and trying to appear cool. She managed to limp into the Great Hall, where Ron was now carelessly throwing on his shirt and robes. He smoothed out his black robes and leaned against the Gryffindor table, grinning.

"What are you doing shirtless in the Great Hall at eleven o'clock at night?" Hermione demanded. She instantly regretted the 'shirtless' part as Ron's grin grew even wider.

"Tai chi," he answered. "A fellow me and Harry know taught us. It's very relaxing."

"Harry and I," Hermione automatically corrected, trying to ignore the fact that Ron's eyes, much to Hermione's discomfort, were now on her sleek black dress. His eyes slowly travelled downwards until he noticed her shoes. "And what are you doing all dressed up in the Great Hall at eleven o'clock at night wearing only one shoe?" he inquired casually.

"Oh…that…I…" Hermione mumbled, flustered. "I went out…to dinner, with Charles…" Ron's face briefly clouded. "And…I broke my shoe…and…yes," she finished lamely.

"Oh, that wild, rebellious Charles. You two crazy kids were dancing up such a storm that you broke your shoe, eh?" Ron said wryly.

"No," Hermione rapidly responded, hands on her hips. "I broke my shoe when I got back to Hogwarts. We didn't even go dancing, for your information."

"You mean that ol' Charlie didn't even take the lady dancing?" Ron exclaimed in fake shock.

"Charles doesn't…dance," Hermione replied, unable to keep a note of wistfulness out of her voice.

Ron clasped a hand to his mouth in mock horror. "I beg your pardon? What do you see in him, woman?!"

Usually a comment like this would have provoked a rapid fire, stubborn, offended response from Hermione. But tonight, for some reason - maybe it was the wine - she just rolled her eyes and laughed at Ron's sudden dramatic flair. Ron seemed to be encouraged by this, because he suddenly took Hermione's hand in his.

"Wait…what are you doing?" Hermione demanded, her laughter dying away quickly.

"Dancing, of course," Ron replied simply, twirling his wand around in his free hand and murmuring something under his breath. Instantly, the full music of a tango filled the empty hall.

"Dance?" Hermione said blankly. "But you…I…can't…"

"And why not?"

"Because…I…I…I'm only wearing one shoe!"

Ron threw back his head and laughed. The warm, pleasant sound filled up the empty corners of the Hall that the music had not yet reached. "Then take them both off, stupid!" he said loudly over the music, which had suddenly hit a crescendo.

Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but only laughter came out; shaking her head, she tossed off both shoes. "There! Now what?"

"Now I put my arm around your waist like so…" Ron explained carefully, wrapping an arm around Hermione's waist. "And you put your hand in mine like so…"

"Ron," Hermione interrupted, suddenly unsure. "I don't think this is such a good idea - "

"Nonsense!" Ron exclaimed dismissively, pulling his old friend slightly closer to him. "And now…" he whispered in her ear in a fake, thick, Russian accent. "Ve dance."

Hermione's words of protest were drowned out by the music as Ron began to whirl her around, slowly at first then faster and faster to the tune of the quick, sonorous tango. The sound of Hermione's laughter bounced off the walls of the Great Hall, at times sounding louder than the music. Ron managed to keep a straight face as he dramatically twirled his colleague around. The music began getting quicker and quicker, louder and louder, until the two were dancing at a dangerously fast speed. This mad dance went on for a few moments longer until the music eventually came to a climax and then ended softly, with Ron dipping his dancing partner.

"Now," he said with a mischievous grin, his face inches from hers, "can Charlie do that?"

"No," Hermione managed to breath between gasps for breath and laughter, "I don't think he can." She slapped his arm as he pulled her up again. "Excuse me, and when did Ron Weasley learn to dance?"

Ron's neck coloured slightly, and Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Well it's not like I took lessons or anything," Ron retorted. "It's not that hard, you just whirl around and whatnot."

Both paused as another song magically came out of nowhere. It was soft and slow, unlike the frantic tango. Hermione glanced up at Ron with an eyebrow raised. He in turn smiled innocently.

"Shall we?" he asked politely. Without waiting for an answer, he put both hands around her waist, fingers sliding perhaps because of the silky material of her dress, or perhaps because he was slightly nervous, though Hermione knew he would deny it if he was.

"Now you put your arms around my neck like so…" Ron grinned as Hermione hesitantly, almost reluctantly, obeyed. "And we dance like so…"

Ron began gently swaying to the rhythm, arms securely around Hermione's waist. "You see?" Ron's breath tickled the back of her neck. "It may look like I'm dancing, but really, I'm just swaying back and forth and would look completely stupid were you not here doing the exact same thing. That is the secret of dancing. Everyone looks stupid doing it until someone else joins them," Ron said matter-of-factly.

A nervous feeling had settled in the pit of Hermione's stomach, and it only increased as she swayed back and forth with Ron. A nagging voice in the back of her mind kept hissing for her to get away before it was too late, before something happened that she would regret. She ignored it, and Ron must have felt her muscles relax somewhat, because he pulled her a bit closer.

"I think Charles is going to ask me to marry him," Hermione abruptly whispered into Ron's ear. She mentally slapped herself. Why in the world had she blurted that out?

"Well," Ron murmured back thoughtfully, "I can't allow that to happen, can I?"

Hermione's heart seemed to stop; she hardly dared to believe Ron was saying what she thought he was. The nagging voice in her head has disappeared, only to be replaced by loud, shrill warning sirens.

"W-why not?" Hermione managed to stutter back.

"Think about it! Your name would be Her-mi-ney Gri-ney," Ron said in disgust.

Hermione couldn't help it; she burst out laughing. Ron grinned to himself and gently tightened his hold on her even more.

***

Outside the Great Hall, Charles Griney stood in the shadows, silently watching his girlfriend laugh and dance with that red-headed man; that Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. His face emotionless despite the turmoil going on within him, he turned and wordlessly walked down the Entrance Hall, then out of Hogwarts castle.

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DA NA NA!

I love the da na na chapters.

Hope you all enjoyed Ron's brief stint as a model for the official Harry Potter calendar. January: Shirtless Ron In Great Hall. February: Shirtless Harry In Gryffindor Common Room. March: Shirtless Draco In Dungeons. April: Shirtless Ron, Harry, and Draco Lying By The Lake. The possibilities are endless.