Author's Notes: Holy amazing reviews, Batman! So many people are reviewing, and they're all lovely, long, constructive reviews. Huzzah! And the fangirl thing is out of control! Know that I did not start this craze…it all began with Prisoner of A Cabana, and two people I like to call PepsiAngel and She's A Star, the original fangirls…and then it spiralled out of control from there. But because it makes you all happy, the following people get to be fangirls due to special requests: San Chewie, Abigail Nicole (for her dictionary prowess), Courei, bluirinka, paintedblack 21, Ironic Trinity (again), and zvjezz. And Larzdinn gets to be one because he/she has shed their lurker veil and reviewed! And he/she pointed out the Nancy Drew thing. Heh. And Shadow Phantom, for hilarious reviews.

To answer a question: "This is just a question, but I'm kind of wondering how Hermy would know that Ron's parents were helping/doing dangerous things for Dumbledore if she didn't know about the Order until she goes to them to Sirius' house?" Maybe this is my bad, but wasn't she in the hospital wing at the end of Goblet of Fire, when Dumbledore asks Mrs. Weasley if he can rely on her and Mr. Weasley? Correct me if I'm wrong. ^_^

Without further ado…the chapter…

Monday, 10 July

10:04 a.m.

No other word from Ron yet, or anything else from Harry. But I did get a rather lengthy letter from Viktor this morning, at the breakfast table, lucky me. This did not go unnoticed by Dad.

"Who's that from, sweetheart?" he asked casually, ducking Viktor's owl as it sailed out the window. My parents are quite good about the coming and going of owls every morning, even if they're completely clueless about anything else involving magic. Dad has a sort of Mr. Weasley-esque, misguided interest in it, and Mum's just happy that magic makes me happy. However, both are adamant about keeping magic separate from dentistry. They were fairly ticked when Madam Pomfrey shrunk my teeth last year.

"Is it the paper?" he asked in mild interest, glancing over my shoulder. Dad sometimes reads the Daily Prophet for fun – he thinks it's funny. Yes, incredibly funny, making a mockery of Harry and blatantly ignoring the return of the most evil and terrifying wizard of the century…

I shrugged as casually as possible, took a sip of orange juice, and then mumbled into my glass, "It's from Viktor."

Mum's face practically lit up as she put down her coffee. "Oh Hermione, that's wonderful! That's the third one this summer! Now isn't that sweet?"

"No, El, that's statutory rape," Dad growled, glowering at the letter in my hand.

"Glen!" Mum said sharply.

"I wasn't aware that letter-writing fell under the category of rape nowadays," I muttered sarcastically.

Dad is none too fond of Viktor. He was absolutely livid when I told him about the Yule Ball. According to him, a foreign, eighteen-year-old man has no business taking a young, impressionable, fourteen-year-old (soon to be fifteen) girl to a dance. Similarly, a young, impressionable, almost fifteen-year-old girl has no business visiting a foreign, eighteen-year-old man in Bulgaria over the summer.

Truth be told, I'm glad Dad said no. It gave me an excuse not to go…I mean, I'm not sure travelling is wise right now what with everything that's happening, although I do miss Viktor. And at least this way I also won't have to endure Ron's snide remarks.

Mum, however, is a different story. I think she's so excited that I'm "dating" that she wouldn't care if Viktor was forty years old. Both my parents seem to think that me having a pen pal means that I am really having a passionate, sordid affair with him.

Dad's always been overprotective (due to the lack of attention he got as a boy, Mrs. Crick theorizes, and the fact that I'm an only child), so it's not surprising, really, that he's so overprotective when it comes to Viktor.

Mum, however, is all for the passionate, sordid affair.

"Well you said it yourself, that's the third time in a week and a half that this man – " Dad continued ranting.

"He's only eighteen," I supplied in a bored voice.

"If Hermione's found a boyfriend, I think we should be happy for her," Mum interrupted loudly.

"Viktor's not my boyfriend," I reminded them both for the millionth time.

"Oh?" Dad said darkly, narrowing his eyes. "So he's just toying with you, then, eh? No commitment, those Bulgarians…"

Mum sighed loudly. "He is not 'toying with her', Glen. Hermione is nearly fifteen years old – "

"Elena, he's eighteen!"

"I'm five years younger than you!"

"That's different!"

Something should be said for my parents here. Both are fairly mild-mannered dentists, as well as prominent and well-respected members of our small community. They're the sort of people who are friendly, social, and pleasant. Neither of them have the heart to really be mean to anyone (eg. Mum's tolerance of Mrs. Crick), and they rarely fight with each other or anyone else. When all's said and done, they're nice, normal, easygoing people with perfect teeth and non-bushy hair (research is required into family history on that one).

However, when provoked – and that is not often – both my parents do have a nasty side. Mum becomes extremely bossy, and Dad is stubborn as a mule. In their wisdom, they decided to pass on these undesirable traits to me instead of the nice, normal, perfect teeth and straight hair genes. Instead, I am a decidedly not normal, magic-practicing witch with (formerly) buck teeth and bushy hair. (Further research is also required into possibility that I am adopted).

And so, on the rare occasion when Mum's bossiness and Dad's stubbornness come to a head, we end up with…this:

"Glen, put down that letter immediately, it's Hermione's!"

"I think I have the right as her father to know what this man – "

"He's only a teenager, Glen!"

" – is writing to my young and impressionable daughter!"

"I'm not impressionable, Dad, and I'm not all that young anymore, in case you've failed to notice," I spoke up dully.

"I know that, Hermione, but…find someone your own age, will you?" Dad pleaded. "What about your friend Harry?" he suggested brightly.

"No, Glen, Harry fancies that Ravenclaw girl," Mum said knowingly.

…

I have no idea if and when I told her that. And how does Mum remember house names when she still gets the name of the school mixed up?! I think Mum's been reading my letters from Ginny. (Further investigation is definitely required.)

"Well, your friend Ron, then," Dad suggested hopefully.

This caused a funny little sensation in the pit of my stomach, and I suddenly bristled. "Oh yes Dad, there's a brilliant match," I said coldly. "At least Viktor noticed that I was a girl when he met me, whereas it took Ron four whole years."

And for reasons unbeknownst to even me, I stomped out of the kitchen, came upstairs, read the controversial letter from Viktor ("I am still wishing you could be coming, Hermione…every day I am thinking of you…but I will still be seeing you year next, I am hoping" – he really is sweet), and then started writing in here.

I think Dad's mention of Ron just struck a nerve because that letter of his is still bothering me. That must be it. I think I'll have a look at it again.

Weekly Goals

1) Abandon hopes for trip to Diagon Alley…find Muggle literature to satisfy obsessive reading compulsions. (Not Nancy Drew. Beloved American detective is bad influence. Switch to Sherlock Holmes?)

2) Convince parents that am not exchanging steamy love letters with Viktor Krum. Also, ask about family history concerning bushy hair/possibility of adoption.

3) Draft rough copy of amendments to and new ideas for the Society for Promotion of Elvish Welfare.

4) Begin Charms revision.

5) Burn, or find a place to hide, all of Ginny's letters.

6) Stop feeding Crookshanks so much, as he is getting quite fat.