Part Two

Chapter Seven: October

 All's Fair in Love and Chocolate

"There is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered" –Nelson Mandela

On October 31st, all of the magical world was abuzz. Hermione had discovered what Halloween was like outside of Hogwarts for the first time when she was eighteen, and she loved it. It was much like Christmastime, in a way. People were happy, they greeted one another on the street. They smiled when worried, glad for something new in the day. Little children walked around dressed as skeletons, and (for some of the more creative ones), Muggles. As Hermione left St. Mungo's and apparated to Diagon Alley, she laughed aloud at a young girl, who looked about five, dressed from head-to-toe in Muggle paraphernalia, from the over-large, Elton John sunglasses to the too-big high heels and handbag that looked nearly half of her size. One little boy was dressed as Harry Potter, causing her to laugh even harder, especially when, upon further inspection, she saw that his "scar" looked as if it had been painted on with Mummy's lipstick. Lanterns were magically suspended in the air, and flickered brightly, despite the daylight. Pumpkins even larger than Hagrid's lined the streets, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes had been turned into a haunted house, so to speak, and adults and children alike were periodically running while screaming at the top of their lungs. She had to catch her step as a miniature banshee, chased by a small investment banker, ran right in front of her. She laughed to herself, and carried about her business, drawing her suede jacket closer around herself.

Sometimes she wondered why she had never fully assimilated into the wizarding world. For instance, everyone around her was staring at her queerly, due to her Muggle apparel- blue jeans, a burgundy top, and a knee-length, brown suede jacket. She had tried to dress as normally as possible, but for her, normal had always been the Muggle way. She didn't consider herself "abnormal", per se, but not an average witch. Even Harry could not bring himself to wear robes. He said that it felt like a dress, and Hermione agreed. She hated dresses, and dressing up. She just couldn't wear robes. She was in and out of the Muggle world so much every day, and preferred her Muggle ways sometimes. She had just been raised that way. She often found herself scrubbing her kitchen floor, and would be nearly finished before she would see her wand lying on the counter. She would rack her brain trying to recall the Weasley's phone number, furious that she, Hermione Granger, could not remember a few digits, until it struck her that they didn't have a phone. She even owned a hairdryer, and used it, too! An act that nearly took an hour could be easily completed in a total of 1.2 seconds, and she wasn't taking advantage of it. Ron teased her about it so often, as did Ginny. She couldn't help it; it was second nature. But then again, both Ron and Ginny, who had been born a wizard and a witch, did things the Muggle ways. Ah, well. It wasn't worth fretting over. She would go on being her Muggle-born self and doing things her Muggle-born ways.

She glanced down at her watch, her Muggle watch, and saw that she had fifteen minutes. Flipping the face open, she beheld her wizard's watch. The hand that read Ginny in the smallest of letters was still pointing to Home.  She had time. She walked briskly to Flourish and Blotts, deeply inhaling the scent of new books. No one was in the store, one of the few times that that had ever occurred while she was there. Enjoying the quiet store, she walked up and down the length, taking in the tables and displays, running her fingers over the new bindings on the shelves, smiling as she saw names that she recognized, such as Parvati Patil (Beauty Tips for Blushing Belles) and Minerva McGonagall, who had finally published A Definitive Work on the Art of Transfiguration. Hermione plucked it off the shelf, and flipped it open to the cover page, where she read:

Dedicated to my dear student, colleague, and friend, Hermione Granger, a true Gryffindor, for her hard work, intelligence, encouragement, and brilliance. Her countless hours of reading, research and proofreading made this publication possible, and for that, I am eternally grateful. May your successes outnumber your trials, as they always have, and may your smile never grow dim.

Hermione had cried the first time that she had read it. The very idea that her favourite and most inspirational teacher would refer to her as a friend was so very touching to her, as it was when she was asked to assist in the project. Surprisingly, or not so surprisingly, if you asked Harry or Ron, Hermione had become quite good friends with Professor McGonagall over the years. She had stayed in touch with her mentor after Hogwarts, and had even received a letter of recommendation from her to attend a prestigious medical school and apprenticeship in Greece. She had been asked to assist Professor McGonagall, or Minerva, as she had been instructed to call her, with her book when she was twenty-two, five-no, six- years ago. It had been a long process, with a goal for a seventh-year advanced textbook and a guide to all of those entering transfiguration at the beginning level after schooling at Hogwarts, Durmstrang, Beauxbatons, or any other school of magic. What had come out of it, was a learning experience, a friendship, and a book full of magic far too advanced for any seventh year, or a first year university student.

She did not know just how long she had stood in Flourish and Blotts, staring at titles, when she heard the bell tinkle, signalling the entrance of another patron. She ignored it, and continued reading the summary of Albus Dumbledore: A Biography by Laurence Le Sabre. She was very tempted to buy it, but then changed her mind after reading Le Sabre's biography on the back flap. She remembered him from Hogwarts, a snivelling Hufflepuff who was whiny, conceited, and spoiled rotten. He was in Ginny's year, as she recalled, and the two girls had often complained about the strange boy stalking Ginny. He was made a prefect in his fifth year, much to Hermione's chagrin, as was Ginny, so the two girls had the blessing of spending their weekly prefect meeting with him. Hermione laughed when she recalled Ron's reaction when he realized that the reason that Le Sabre bloke was following Ginny around was not because they were friends, but because the way that he fancied her was borderline obsession.

"I know," said a voice from behind her, "Can you believe that he's written a book?" Hermione turned to embrace Ginny, and noticed immediately the change in her. The two women had not seen each other but twice since the Potters had returned from their honeymoon, and Ginny had changed. The two left the shop, Ginny chatting happily about something that Harry had done, and  Hermione was able to discern just what was different about her friend. Married life suited Ginny well. She was practically emitting a visible glow, and if her smile got any larger, her jaw might break. She often gazed lovingly at the second ring on her finger when she thought that Hermione wasn't looking. Harry was mentioned at least twice a minute, in which he said the funniest thing, did the cutest thing, or how he looked at her in just that way… all of this was topped off with a huge sigh. Hermione chuckled to herself for the umpteenth time that day, as she was reminded of something that e.e. cummings once said: "Lovers alone can wear sunlight". If that wasn't a true statement, then Hermione would renounce magic forever.

"So," said Ginny, as they continued walking towards Madam Malkin's. "Any idea of what you want to wear tonight?"

"No, nothing," said Hermione, gloomily. "I hate dress robes. I might get light blue ones, like in fourth year- remember those? They were at least tolerable."

"And Ron couldn't keep his eyes off of you…" Ginny sang, casting a sly look in Hermione's direction.

"That was also fourteen years ago, and there's no real need to dwell in the past," Hermione replied conclusively.

"You're no fun."

"I know. And besides, what do I care if Ron thinks I look attractive?" Hermione asked, instantly regretting it as the colour rose to here cheeks. She kept walking at an even pace, and even snuck a side glance at Ginny. It was when she did that she realized that Ginny had stopped walking a few paces back and was standing with her stubborn Weasley look and her hands on her hips.

"Hermione Granger," said Ginny, as the two of them walked towards each other, "You have a secret."

How was she so bloody transparent? She and Ron hadn't told anyone, and the only people who had come close to knowing were Joey and Malcolm Harrison. They didn't really want to publicize things, but Ginny was Ron's sister. Was it that big of a deal? Ginny would make it a big deal, that was for sure. Hermione had been wrestling with the idea of telling Ginny for awhile, now; she could use some advice. But what was she supposed to say, "By the way, Ginny, your brother and I don't love each other, but in about two years, we're going to get married, have children, and spend the rest of our lives together." No, best to stay cryptic.

"Do I? Come on, let's get to Madam Malkin's before the crowd does." Hermione turned, but Ginny grabbed her elbow, resorting to Hogwarts-like tactics when she said, "We are not moving from this spot until you tell me what is going on, Hermione. I hate secrets, you're bad at keeping them, and I'm going to find out eventually, so you might as well tell me now, unless you want me to hex you."

"Well, now since I've been threatened with bodily harm…"

"No, really! Tell me, Hermione, please?"

"You know, you'd never think that you were grown and married, Ginny, the way that you're behaving. Come on, let's go buy our dress robes."

"But-"

"I'll tell you inside," Hermione relented, hoping that Ginny would forget when they began to look at clothes. She had been planning on telling Ginny, yes, just not now. She wanted to wait a little while. She also wanted some advice, and soon. Maybe she would give in, and tell her. They continued walking, Hermione trying to chat amicably, and Ginny too bent on learning Hermione's secret to say anything, lest she forget. They let themselves into the store, bid hello to Madam Malkin, and walked to the back of the store, where there was a staircase leading to the upper levels. The lower floor was professional and everyday wear, whereas, upstairs contained dress robes for all occasions. Hermione wanted to ignore the issue at hand, so she buried herself in a rack of robes, not really looking.

"Hermione," Ginny began, before Hermione cut her off, quite irritated, saying, "Look, Ginny, I'll tell you when I'm ready, all right?" Ginny, somewhat taken aback, responded by pointing out that Hermione was looking at the men's robes, and the women's were on the other side of the store, causing Hermione's cheeks to warm and turn a few shades of red darker than they had been.

"All I really need is love, but a little chocolate now and then doesn't hurt!" –Lucy Van Pelt, from Peanuts by Charles M. Schulz

Ron loved Halloween. It was, by far, the best time of the year. Wait, no, second best. Christmas was first. Halloween was sec- no, third. His birthday was the second best time of the year, Halloween pulling in a close third, which was tailed by the Quidditch World Cup, Harry's birthday, and then Hermione's. Or maybe Harry and Hermione's birthdays tied for fifth. No matter, Halloween was the third best time of the year. In fact, he could think of no better way that he would rather be spending Halloween. Who didn't love being cooped up in his office all day, filling paperwork about the last raid that he and Harry had run. However, the silver lining was the view. The maintenance staff was feuding for many reasons: their lack of raise, their change of management, and no one could seem to figure out what the view for the day should be. One minute it would be pouring cats and dogs (literally), the next it would be so bright that Ron would have to close his shades. He was just opening them again when a small knock was heard from his door. All he would have to do was stand a stretch to reach the door handle, considering his office was so jammed and tiny that everything was in arms reach, but whoever was knocking took the liberty of just walking in and throwing himself down in the spare chair, in between the picture of Harry, Hermione and Ron, the wastepaper basket, and the life-sized cut-out of the Chudley Cannons.

"A perfect example of why you need a bigger office, mate. The Cannons need more room to, you know… be worshipped."

"Bugger off." Ron turned to close the shades again while Harry laughed, and uncomfortably stretched out his legs on to Ron's desk. Ron turned around, pretending to look cross. "Hey, why are you here, anyway? I have some very important paperwork to get done, and you're distracting me. You know how dedicated I am to paperwork."

Harry rolled his eyes, and said, "Sure, Percy."

Ron's eyes grew wide. Harry removed his legs from the desk and stood up, picking Ron's cloak up from the back of the chair and chucking it at him. "Get up. We're going out to lunch. I'm sick of the office; we have been here far too long."

"All right," said Ron, disentangling himself from his cloak and standing to follow his best mate to lunch. He inched between the desk and the wall, as Harry left. Making sure that Harry wasn't looking, Ron threw a wink to one of the Chasers from the Cannons, Liberty Katz. She tossed her blonde hair and winked back, still waving as Ron left his office. Ron followed Harry to the elevators, complaining about the lack of office space from the time that they stepped on the elevator, where they were nearly attacked by a few memos, until they heard a cool female voice say, "The Atrium". They stepped out into the cool autumn air, shocked to find no one dressed up for  Halloween, no lanterns, no pumpkins, and no merriment. The shock wore off, as they considered the fact that they were in a Muggle alley. They stepped out to the road, and watched, laughing, as a few lost Muggles were trying to make a phone call from the visitor's entrance to the Ministry.

Walking briskly to the Leaky Cauldron, Ron listened to Harry talk about Ginny. He tried to appear interested, but this was his sister that they were talking about. Knowing some of those… details… didn't interest him in the slightest. He found it funny, as he had since they had been dating, that Harry was so enthralled with his sister, because, after all, she was just… Ginny. What was so interesting about her? And yet, here he was, nodding politely to "Ginny this," and "Ginny that".

They stepped inside the shabby pub fifteen minutes and three "cute" stories later, taking seats at their usual booth. Pansy Parkinson took their order, and, figuring that she would get no tip anyway, brought them the wrong lunch order three times. When finally the beef Wellington was situated firmly in front of Harry, and the fish and chips had found their way to Ron, they were rid of the horrible beast that was Pansy Parkinson.  

"So, what's on your mind?" Harry asked of Ron after swallowing down a forkful of his lunch.

Ron, quite confused, stared blankly at his friend. What was on his mind? If anything, it should be Harry who wanted to discuss something, Harry who had pulled him out of his office, not the other way around. And yet here he was, face to face with the issue of talking about Hermione and their pseudo-relationship after he had been lured out of his office under the pretences of having a casual lunch, just two friends. He fought the urge to tell Harry this, and replied, instead, with a remark that may have deterred anyone else, "Huh?"

"Come on," Harry responded, not swayed by Ron's confused look. "Something's on your mind, and has been ever since Ginny and I got back from our honeymoon. I don't know exactly what's going on, but I think… who is she?"

"Who is who? I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure you don't. Look, Ron, we're best mates, right? You can trust me; I'd like to think you'd have figured that out by now. So," Harry looked, around, leaned in, and lowered his voice, "do I know her?"

"There is no… her!"

"Well… it's not a… he… is it?"

"No. If there were anyone in my life right now, which there definitely isn't, it would be a woman. But there isn't anybody, so we can just drop the whole thing."                  

Harry, looking quite disappointed, went back to his lunch.

"Besides," Ron continued, "If, and I mean if there was somebody, which there isn't, I would tell you if I wanted to. Which I would. It's not as if I like having things pried out of me under the threat of torture. I like to keep my work and personal life separate, you know? And really, I wouldn't object to a girlfriend at all. In fact, I'd rather like one. The way I figure, all anyone ever really needs in life is love. That and some chocolate."

Harry dropped his fork, and quickly swallowed before allowing his mouth to hang open.

"But then again, if I were really in love, you know, head over heels and all that, I probably wouldn't care if I didn't get any chocolate, because that's what love is. Not chocolate, no, love isn't chocolate, but when you're in love, all of the other things that you thought were important suddenly aren't anymore. Like chocolate. So, yes, I suppose I could do without chocolate if I were in love."

"Liar."

"Hey! I could so do without chocolate! In fact, I-"

"No, not about the chocolate you stupid prat! About the love bit. You're in love. It's easy to tell; you've just admitted that you could do without chocolate and I really don't think that you know what you're saying at all."

"I am not in love… I don't think."

"You've gotten back with Chloe, haven't you?" Harry demanded. "And that's why you won't tell me; you know that I don't think she's good for you. That would make sense. Or is it that reporter girl that you met at the rehearsal? What was her name? Isadora?"

"I think so… yeah, Isadora sounds right. But no, you're wrong on both counts. I can't imagine how you would think that I'm-"

"Harry! Ron!" 

Harry, recognizing the voice immediately, stood to offer his wife his seat. Ginny kissed Ron on the cheek, and sat down, chatting away with him about their Uncle Reginald. Harry fetched another chair for himself and quickly joined the conversation. Ginny informed both of them that Hermione was in the restroom, and would be joining them shortly.

"We found her the most beautiful dress robes, but of course you don't want to hear about that. So Aunt Mildred said to Uncle Reginald..." and on she went, telling a funny story about Aunt Mildred trying to convince Uncle Reginald to get a toupee, and then, once he was convinced, his eyesight was so bad that he switched his toupee and the Scottish terrier. He had a sleeping dog on his head, a wig on a leash, and was wondering why his neighbours were laughing. 

Hermione approached a few seconds later, and Ron stood to offer his chair.

"Hello, Ron," Hermione said, almost shyly.

Ron grinned at her, offering a small wink as he pulled out his chair for her. "Hello, Hermione."

Harry choked on his drink.

"Where is she?" Ron demanded, as he paced back and forth the entrance hall of the Ministry building. "The Ball was supposed to start five minutes ago."

"She'll be here," a very exasperated Ginny assured him. "I know she'll be here." People clad in every colour surrounded them, bustling back and forth, making small talk, bragging, flirting, introducing spouses, and making it very hard for Harry, carrying two champagne flutes, to make it back to where his wife and brother-in-law were waiting.

"Hermione not here yet?" he asked, handing Ginny her champagne.

"No," Ron replied, much too quickly, "She's not."

Harry and Ginny exchanged a small glance.

"Good evening, everyone," said a jolly voice that came from none other than Albus Dumbledore. "How are we all doing this evening? You know, I've always loved parties, but not this sort. I prefer smaller, more intimate gatherings. I remember one time, at a particularly lively New Years celebration my brother, Algernon, danced around wearing nothing but a tea cosy on his head. His poor children. Now where is Miss Granger  this evening?" This question was obviously directed at Ron.

"She's running a bit late, but she should be here soon, sir. She had an emergency call at work. Nothing to worry about," said Ron, as if trying to convince himself as well. 

"Ron," Harry said softly, inching closer to his friend, "Ron, look. Malfoy's talking to Fudge. Being quite chummy, too."

"Fudge isn't Minister anymore," Ron pointed out.

"But he still holds a lot of political weight. Malfoy needs to grease some wheels; Lucius Malfoy used to have it in good with Fudge. Looks like Draco's trying to do the same."

"Oh, please, let's not discuss it tonight," Ginny begged, entwining her arm with Harry's. "Let's just have fun. You can work tomorrow."

"Miss Weasley," Professor Dumbledore began, "Excuse me- Mrs. Potter, how is work going for you?"

"Very well, sir. It's interesting working for your older brothers, but we do have fun. We've just landed the Zonko's deal in Hogsmeade."

"Ah, the joining of two evils. The students will love that. And so will Mr. Filch, I'm sure." The twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes betrayed him, as always. The three ex-students laughed.

"Is that old bas-"

"Ron!"

"-bloke still alive?"

"Yes, and kicking, although not high. Hogwarts is the same as ever. We are in a bit of a bind, though. Professor McGonagall is discussing her retirement from teaching. She'll still stay at Hogwarts as Deputy Headmistress and Head of Gryffindor House, but teaching is putting a strain on her. We'll need to find a replacement before the Holidays, I'm afraid."

"Any prospects?" asked Harry.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled once more. "When was Miss Granger supposed to arrive?"

"She would love that!" Ginny exclaimed. "To teach at Hogwarts… why I couldn't imagine what she would do! She's talked about it, of course, but is afraid to quit St. Mungo's. You know, she's a Healer, not a Professor."

"Healing is primarily Transfiguration, Ginny. I think that she would make an excellent addition to the staff. Her work on Minerva's book proves as much."

Ron's head was reeling. Hermione? Teach at Hogwarts? No, that mustn't happen. She would leave him for Hogwarts all year round. She wouldn't be with him for Christmas, or for Valentine's Day, or… St. Patrick's Day. What would happen to their deal? It was all over for them, he knew it. Just when he had started to-

"Ron!" Harry nearly shouted.

"What?"

"You okay? You were looking pretty weird there."

"Yeah… er… yeah, fine." Ron looked around, and said, "Hey, where'd Dumbledore go?"

"He left when your eyes glazed over. He's coming back, though; just went to grab a bite."

But Ron didn't hear him. He didn't hear anything. All of the din of the Ball faded into the background, all of the people seemed to fade away. He only saw one thing: the most beautiful woman that he'd ever seen gliding down the steps. She saw him, and gave a little wave, her smile broadening. As she approached, the soft sound of the red satin of her dress robes swishing seemed to entrance him. He could smell her perfume. Her curls were all swept up, and bounced a little as she walked towards him.

"Hermione! You look great!" Ginny praised. But apparently, Hermione didn't care what she looked like. Her eyes were locked to Ron's and she didn't even acknowledge Ginny's presence.

"Hi," she said softly.

"Hi," Ron replied.

Professor Dumbledore approached their small cluster, holding a small plate of desserts.

He offered, "Chocolate, Ron?"

"No, thank you."

Author's note: Phew! That took forever! I was hoping that you'd forget that AN from a few weeks ago, about updating more frequently. That was before I realized how busy my summer would be. I'm hoping the longevity of the chapter might make up for the lack of updates? Pretty please?

Hey, what in the name of Jack Handey is Dumbledore's brother's name? I was going to rifle through my books, and then I figured, oh well, someone else has gotta know! Leave it in a review, and… you get a fortune cookie! I love fortune cookies. LOL- anyone ever watched "Teen Girl Squad"?! MSG'd!!!!

OK, I'm done. Review!