Chapter 9

Green eyes, staring back at her and blinking rapidly in surprise. A million emotions coursed through her body in a matter of moments: regret, exhilaration, pain, longing, shock, love... and all of a sudden she was sixteen again, and the two of them were standing under the mistletoe, standing close together after their first kiss, sending shivers down each other's spines just by letting their breaths mingle. Hormones, she thought almost drunkenly. That's all there was to it.

"Harry," she breathed, hardly daring to believe it.

"Cho?" he asked, hesitating before drawing back a little.

Several more long moments passed before Cho finally realized that she was still holding onto a worried-looking Wood, who had been talking without her being aware of it, and not seeming to take any notice of Harry.

"... I really don't know what happened. It looks as though someone was running and then they just plowed straight into you. That could've been a nasty fall," he explained, pulling her upright.

She looked away from Wood to see Harry with an expression of slight discomfort and awkwardness as he took a small step back, still gazing at her in amazement, and she felt it: the lightly vague but strong instinct to run. Harry opened his mouth as if to say something, but then abruptly closed it again, as if to change his mind, and that was enough, as if to seal the deal, a slap on the face, a lash at the heart. She wrenched herself out of Wood's grasp and followed her instinct.


"Cho."

"Sod off, Marietta," croaked a voice from somewhere within.

"Well!" she huffed indignantly, placing her hands on her hips. "How do you like that? All that planning and not even a thank you... Cho Chang, I demand that you open this door, NOW!"

Marietta began to bang on the apartment door more persistently when she received no answer in return.

"OPEN THE DOOR! YOU'D BETTER OPEN THIS DOOR, CHO, OR I'LL LOOK UP HARRY'S ADDRESS AND GIVE HIM YOURS!" she shrieked shrilly, continuing her quest to pound down the door.

She heard numerous locks and charms being removed before finally the doorknob wriggled and the door opened with a faint creak, revealing the dimly lit living room and a bleary-eyed Cho who ushered her in and snapped the door closed behind them both.

"Sit," she snapped hoarsely.

A bit frightened by her friend's wild and disheveled appearance, Marietta obeyed, sinking into the nearest armchair.

Cho had changed out of her black dress into a pair of black cotton shorts and a moderately tight yellow T-shirt, her hair taken out of its clip and looking slightly tousled, as though she had been running her hands through it without cease. She stood in front of her friend, fists clenched and jaw set determinedly, a dangerous flash in her eyes.

"Do you have any idea how upset I am right now? Did you even stop to think about how confused and out-of-sorts I would be?" she whispered in a deadly hiss.

"N—no," squeaked Marietta, shifting farther back into the cushions of the chair as her friend leaned closer.

"That," she said quietly, "had to be one of the most humiliating and hurtful things I've ever experienced in my life. It's been three years, Marietta. Three years. How could there be the slightest chance that he still even remotely likes me?"

"There's always a chance, a long as you believe in it," her friend replied softly.

Cho paused and straightened slightly, seeming to absorb this; somewhere above them, a shower turned on and water could be heard swirling, racing down the water pipes to the sewers. Then, with a small sigh, she stood up and walked towards the kitchen, motioning for her friend to follow her.

"Would you like something to drink?" she asked.

"Um, well, I suppose I could use some tea," stammered Marietta. As Cho went about silently, taking the teapot out of a cupboard with a wave of her wand and warming water, Marietta couldn't help but think that if they were still at Hogwarts, Cho would be crying as if her heart would break by this point. If she had met the proud, strong-minded woman in front of her during the old school days, she would've undoubtedly laughed out loud if someone had informed her that she was her best friend. And she nervously thought that she'd prefer Cho wailing and sobbing on her shoulder instead of the dead silence.


"I'm sorry, Marietta, I suppose I should've trusted you more in school, and even now. It's just—I didn't want any more of the gossip, you know?" said Cho apologetically, running her fingers up and down her mug of tea.

"I understand," Marietta acknowledged, nodding. "I suppose I never gave you much of a reason, though, did I? I was just as bad as all the other girls in our group. You were our leader, Cho; we all looked up to you. We wanted to be like you in every aspect, and we wanted to share everything we knew about you to the world because of how much we worshipped you."

"You're different, though, Etta. You're the only one who bothered to stick by me," smiled Cho.

"What are best friends for?" she shrugged, beginning to pour herself more tea.

"I really appreciate you trying last night, Marietta," her friend replied quietly. "I was just so—so mixed up and afraid and it had all happened so fast..."

"I know; I probably shouldn't have done anything," she asked, shaking her head and sighing.

"It's not that big a deal. There are times in life where you just have to wake up in the morning and keep moving on, no matter what. It might be hard, but it's something you have to do. You can't keep the sun from rising," sighed Cho, taking a small sip.

"That's what I'm trying to tell you," said Marietta gently. "But I'm also trying to tell you that you can move on and hang on to part of the past at the same time."

There was no reply to this and for a while, the two said nothing as they watched the night sky begin to lighten into brilliant shades of color before it faded away into the usual cheerful blue daylight, fringed by white clouds.

"We'd better tidy up everything," said Cho, causing her friend to give a small start.

"Um, right," Marietta said, picking up her own empty cup as well as Cho's and putting them in the sink, turning the tap on to wash them out properly.

"I should keep working on my article as well," she said absently, putting the milk back in the refrigerator.

"Oh? How's it coming?" asked her friend calmly, scrubbing out the teapot and throwing away the teabags.

"It's all right. I worked on it while I listened to you yelling at the top of your voice outside my door last night," she said, smirking. Marietta sighed in relief, obviously pleased that her friend was regaining her old sarcastic edge.

"You know, we never went to that new restaurant you wanted to go to," Cho continued, talking as she walked to her bedroom to change.

"I thought you were going to finish your article."

"Well, I changed my mind... I don't think I can sit still long enough to start working on it; I've just got too much else to think about, to try and figure out."

"All right... I was running low on a few supplies anyway," said Marietta.

"Didn't you buy everything you needed to last time we went to Diagon Alley?" asked her friend, confused.

"I left out a few things; I didn't find out until I got home. Are you sure you don't need to at least sleep a bit? You've been up all night," she replied, looking worried.

Cho snorted as she walked back into the kitchen, pulling a jumper over her head. "I could say the same about you."

"Well, grab your purse and we'll go," her friend said, drying her hands on the towel hanging over the sink.

"And Marietta?"

"Hmm?"

"Thanks... for everything."

She stood still for a moment, slightly taken aback but pleasantly surprised all the same.

"You're welcome," she said softly.

Cho smiled, and her friend returned the favor before opening the door and walking out. Making sure to grab her purse, Cho followed, closing the door behind her, and then stopping her friend as she headed for the elevator.

"It's healthier to take the stairs," she reminded.

"But I'm still wearing my heels!" exclaimed Marietta in complaint. "Not only that, but I'm also still wearing all my clothes from last night."

"Hmm... you do have a point," Cho said, circling her friend and giving her a look up and down before pulling out her wand and transfiguring Marietta's formal clothes into regular muggle-wear. "And now you don't," she said, smirking and putting away her wand before pushing open the stairway door.

"What makes you think I'm going to take the stairs again, even if I'm wearing the proper clothes now?" Marietta asked defiantly, crossing her arms.

"The fact that you owe me a favor or two hundred for your little charade last night," replied Cho cheekily, knowing fully well how guilt-ridden her friend was at the moment, although she probably wasn't in the wrong, since she had only the very best intentions at heart. But she smiled triumphantly all the same as Marietta's face fell before twisting into a frown of disgust, nose delicately wrinkled.

"Bloody stairs," muttered Marietta under her breath, sulkily following behind her friend.


It couldn't be... and yet, it was. Cho Chang was standing in front of him, looking absolutely breathtaking and at the same time completely surprised to see him. Hell, it had been what, three or four years? His head jerked towards Wood as he began speaking to her and pulling her upright, but Harry ignored his old captain's words, at a loss for his own.

What was he supposed to say? Hello? It's nice to see you? He found himself opening his mouth and then closing it again, still fishing around for the right words to tell her, but that seemed to snap the fragile moment. She stiffened at this motion and, without a word, darted into the mass of people, running as though her life depended on it. Several people moved out of her way, but few seemed to notice her leaving.

"Wait!" Harry automatically thought, but hesitated to shout. Instead, he did his best to follow her; chances were, she'd make a beeline for the elevator. Heart going a mile a minute, he began to run as well, but when he reached the two large sliding doors, she was gone.


"Are you all right, Harry? You seem... quiet," asked Hermione awkwardly, shifting in her seat to get a better look at his face.

"I'm fine," he said mechanically, continuing to stare out the window. His thoughts were still swimming like they hadn't done for quite a while, and he needed to sort them out. She had gone so quickly, as soon as she'd appeared, that he doubted whether it had been real; was it only a dream? He'd spent the rest of his time at the party muttering incoherently to himself, preoccupied with the night's events, trying to put together an answer with the few pieces of the large puzzle that he had on his hands.

Hermione placed a slender hand gently on Ron's arm and gave him a worried look, to which he could only respond with a shrug and a frown as he watched his friend look but not really see outside the taxi window. No one said anything until the car suddenly slowed to a halt in front of Harry's apartment building. He instinctively reached for his wallet, but Hermione stopped him.

"Don't worry about it, Harry, we'll take care of it," she said quietly.

"Thanks," he said in a hollow voice. Then, he opened the car door and went into the building, muttering to himself and jabbed at the elevator button. Surprisingly, when the doors opened, it was empty, for which he was grateful as he stepped in and pressed the button for the ninth floor. He took a glance at his watch and soon saw the reason for the vacant elevator; the watch face read 4:45 A.M. Everyone who'd gone to New Year's parties was either still celebrating or already home. Sighing, he leaned against a smooth wall and tilted his head back to rest on the shiny metal, tiredly walking out of the elevator into the corridor that led to his flat when the doors opened again with a light ding.

Upon reaching his door, he felt around in his pockets for the keys and, finding them, inserted his apartment key into the lock, turned it before removing it, and gave the doorknob a twist to open the door. He turned on the nearest lights before putting his keys down on the wooden table beside the coat closet and, with another weary sigh, sank onto his couch, lost in thought.

"I need to take a shower," he thought absently, taking off his jacket and draping it on a chair.

Plodding toward the bathroom in a daze, he slid back the glass door of the shower and turned on the taps, adjusting the water to the comfortable temperature before taking off his clothes and stepping in, letting each bead of water beat against his back. He leaned his head back, allowing his hair to be wetted, then ran his hands distractedly through it. Mulling over his memories of the night, he couldn't help but become more confused as he recalled the look in her eyes as she looked at him. It was of pain, and shock, of course, and... something else. But how was he supposed to decipher the look on her face if she had suddenly become a shadow that slipped out of his reach?

He sighed heavily and habitually ran his fingers through his hair again. And then a small prickling in his mind reminded him of a certain notebook that he kept hidden away in the drawer of his nightstand.


"Harry?" asked Hermione, rapping on the door gently.

"He's probably asleep," suggested Ron, with a shrug as she paused to listen for any sound and was responded to with silence.

"Harry, it's Hermione and Ron. Let us in," she called again, knocking a bit harder and more urgently.

"Why are we here anyway?" said Ron, yawning as he leaned against the wall beside the doorframe.

"Because I want to know what was wrong with Harry last night when we were driving home."

"That's all you came to my flat and dragged me over here for? Bloody hell, 'Mione, I hadn't even gotten four hours of sleep yet!" he complained, putting a hand exasperatingly over his eyes.

"Shh! I think I hear something," she hissed, putting her ear to the door. "Yes... I can hear him coming."

Backing away until she was a good distance from the door, she stood expectantly with her hands behind her back and a small satisfied smile on her face, evidently waiting for the door to open. She wasn't disappointed as the door swung open and they were somewhat welcomed in, with a grunt and a wave of the hand.

"Harry? Did you happen to get any sleep?" said Hermione, frowning as she saw dark half-circles under his eyes.

"I'm fine," he muttered, throwing himself down onto the couch to stare broodingly out the window. "You can help yourselves to breakfast, if you'd like," he added, jerking his head towards the dining room table.

"Thanks, mate," replied Ron, snapping awake at the mention of food and making a direct path to the dining room.

"Are you sure you're all right? You look a bit peaky," persisted Hermione, brushing a lock of brown hair out of her eyes to look into Harry's and place a hand on his forehead.

"Yeah," he replied, wrenching himself out of her grasp.

"See? Nothing to worry about," said Ron as best he could with a full mouth.

"Ron? One word: chew," chided his girlfriend, narrowing her eyes in a would-be intimidating manner, if the smile on her face hadn't betrayed her.

He rolled his eyes and pretended to reluctantly obey as he walked back to finish his breakfast.

"Listen, Harry, you haven't been like this for a while now. We know something must've happened last night to make you so moody and silent, and we came here to help you," explained Hermione, to which Ron gave a loud snort at the word "we."

She in turn rolled her own eyes, sighed, and then said, "Fine. I know something's wrong with you and I came to help you. I just dragged this prat along because 1. He's your best friend, 2. I thought I could use the backup, and 3. I know he hasn't gotten the full fifteen hours he needs to sleep, and it annoys the hell out of him that he's had to come down here."

"Aha!" said Ron, pointing a finger at her and launching a light spray of scrambled egg into the air. "I knew it!"

"I thought I told you to chew," snapped Hermione, putting a hand on her hip as she stood up.

"I'm chewing, I'm chewing," he mumbled, turning around again as she began to approach him with the same sort of dangerous glint in her eye Mrs. Weasley possessed.

Harry managed a small laugh and shook his head at his friends' antics.

"So. Are you going to tell me, or am I going to have to drag it out of you?" she asked, rounding on him again.

"I think... we can go for a walk and I'll tell you then," he said, standing up as well. "Just let me go and change."

"Ron? Did you hear that? You've got five minutes to finish up your food," she called.

"Done," he replied, putting his plate and cup into the kitchen sink.

"Why don't we go find the nearest coffee shop and get something to drink? It's the perfect weather for it," suggested Hermione, taking a tissue out of her purse and beginning to wipe off Ron's face, much to his fake indignation.

"Sounds fine," said Harry as he emerged from his bedroom before heading to the coat closet and pulling out a jacket.

"Do you have your key?" asked his friend in maternal tones as she threw away the used tissue.

"Yeah. Let's go," he replied, holding the door open for both his friends.

"Wait!" said Hermione, stopping Harry from closing the door. "Don't you need to brush your hair?"

He and Ron looked at her as if she had gone mad.

"Oh. Right. Well, shall we?" she asked sheepishly, after eyeing Harry's naturally tousled dark locks and realizing the absurdity of her previous statement.

"Looks as though I wasn't the only one who didn't get enough sleep," teased Harry as he followed behind her.

"Damn right. She came and woke me up not five hours after I'd dropped her off at her place," growled Ron, evidently still not pleased.

"Ah, but that's what the coffee is for," replied Hermione, smiling as the elevator doors opened.

"Unless you make me buy the decaffeinated kind again," he muttered under his breath.

"You can buy the regular, if you think that'll help you stay awake," she said crisply, pressing the button for the first floor.

"You're making him buy decaffeinated coffee?" Harry asked, arching an eyebrow in interest.

"He can't really benefit from being addicted to caffeine, now can he?" Hermione said, lacing her fingers into Ron's.

"I'd stay awake a lot more," he shrugged.

"That, and you'd be all twitchy and nervous," she retorted.

"Would not."

"I remember the first time you tried to stay up all night to get a head start on the next day's work and you drank about three pots of coffee," said Harry, habitually leaning against the elevator wall.

"And you couldn't get your left eye to stop twitching the next day at work," added Hermione, reaching up with a hand to pinch his cheek in mock patronization. "Remember?"

"Wasn't it twitching so badly that you couldn't open your eye at all?" asked Harry, looking thoughtful.

"No!" Ron argued. "I almost couldn't open my eye."

"Oh, such a striking difference! How could we have possibly overlooked it?" Hermione said sardonically.

"We'll just be sure not to let you have too much coffee again," smirked Harry.


"It's still sixteen galleons, no matter how urgent your need is. It should be higher, if anything," persisted the shop owner stubbornly, shaking his head.

"No! I refuse to pay you anything more than five," retorted Marietta.

Cho sighed tiredly and tried to blink away the itch of sleepiness from her eyes, but still managed an amused smile; her friend had now been verbally sparring with the man for a full fifteen minutes and people were beginning to stare along with her.

"Listen, miss, armadillo spleen is more difficult to process and find nowadays, due to the higher demand for it. They've almost completely cleared out the entire species! Did you know that one nutter was so desperate that he tried to steal one from a muggle zoo?" he attempted to explain patiently.

"I don't care if he tried to steal one from his grandmother," she snarled through clenched teeth. "That still has nothing to do with me arguing with you right now in this shop about your shameful and low attempt to make more money off of innocent and law-abiding citizens."

"What are you, a lawyer?" he asked indignantly.

"As a matter of fact—"

"C'mon, Etta, I don't think he's worth the trouble," interrupted Cho, taking her friend by the arm and pulling her to the door.

Sniffing huffily, she yanked her arm out of her friend's reach to shake her fist angrily at the man and yell out, as her last strike, "YOU'RE A DISGRACE OF A WIZARD, YOU HEAR ME! I WOULD HAVE YOU CASTRATED, BUT THERE'S NOTHING THERE!"

"Marietta!" exclaimed her friend, completely taken aback. Evidently, the shop owner was in a state of shock as well, for all he did was drop his jaw and watch helplessly as the people inside the store applauded and laughed before walking out of the store with every intent of never coming back.

"Sixteen galleons for a bowlful of armadillo spleen? It's outrageous! The bowl isn't even as wide as my hand!" complained Marietta as she and her friend walked out of a shop.

"Shh, the owner will hear you," shushed Cho, giving a glance behind her and feeling slightly guilty as she made no attempt to restrain a giggle as she saw him seeming to be fighting the urge to cry.

"Let him hear me!" her friend exclaimed angrily. "He should be dragged off to Azkaban for trying to overcharge me. Sixteen galleons... look at me, Cho! Do I look like I'm made out of money?"

"Actually, I can't answer that question."

"Of course you can't; it's rhetorical."

"No, I meant that if I answered it one way or the other, you'd end up being offended or angry with me. Besides, who introduced you to the whole rhetorical question concept?" asked Cho, raising her eyebrows.

"Ugh, my head hurts, Cho. Just stop talking for a little while and I'll feel a bit better," moaned her friend, rubbing her temples as they continued to walk at a steady pace.

"Well, I don't know if I can do that, but I think I do know of something that might make you feel better."

"And what would that be?" said Marietta petulantly.

"One enormous fudge sundae at Florean Fortescue's," she replied, licking her lips slightly as though she was already savoring the taste of one herself.

"Hmm... I suppose that would make me feel a great deal better."

"Of course it would. I'd think you'd gone mad if you turned down a perfectly good sundae, especially since I'll be treating you to one."

"Now that you put it that way... could you manage to walk a bit faster?"

Cho snorted and said, "I doubt it, Marietta. I may be able to come shopping with you for a few hours or so, but after my sundae, I'm probably going to go home and fall asleep on my couch."

"Can I join you? I can't exactly walk another ten miles either," her friend replied, attempting to stifle a yawn, which resulted in a strange half-yawn, half-moan.

"Yes, but why, then, would you ask me to exert myself so much if you can't go any faster either?" she said indignantly.

"Because my judgment's been impaired by lack of sleep."

"That's an excuse... not a good one, but that's an excuse, all right," she replied, shaking her head.

Both stopped as they reached the front of the store and, pushing open the door, managed to drag themselves to the nearest table, where they began to squabble about who would go and place the order.

"You go."

"I'm too tired; you go."

"I'm tired, too! I'm not going; you are."

"No, I'm not; you are."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"You can't make me do anything."

"Yes, I can."

"And why is that?"

"Because I'm paying, remember?"

Marietta stood up in defeat, muttering darkly to herself as she trudged up to the counter as Cho watched with the look of utmost satisfaction at winning the debate etched clearly on her face.

"Never underestimate the power of chocolate," she grinned to herself.

"Can't take the bloody elevator, had no sleep," mumbled Marietta, a frown deep-set in between her eyes. She tapped her fingers on the clean counter, beginning to lose her patience even though she'd only been standing there for a few moments; all clear perceptions of time were muddied up by exhaustion. Whoever had opened up the shop obviously hadn't bothered to keep watch for customers as a few more long moments passed and still nobody came to take her order. Glancing around quickly, she noticed a shiny summoning bell and, moving over a few steps, began to half-heartedly press the small button on top over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over...

"Marietta!"

"What?"

"Would you please stop ringing that bell? Someone's probably already on the way, so now you're just being annoying," sighed Cho, laying her head down on her arms and fighting the urge to simply bang it repeatedly on the clean tabletop.

"I don't see anyone, do you?" said Marietta defensively.

Cho looked up, shook her head, and then lowered it again with a dull thud before saying in a slightly muffled voice, "Look in front of you."

Frowning, the strawberry blonde turned her head to look behind the counter and found herself face-to-face with Florean Fortescue himself. She gave a short yelp of surprise, to which her friend replied by snorting loudly and beginning to laugh while the kind-eyed owner backed away, startled, but managed to grin and say, "Now, what can I get for you two ladies?"

Any thoughts of scolding him for his poor service immediately flew out of her mind as she said, "Two fudge sundaes, please, and with extra chocolate syrup on top."

"Hold—the ch—cherry," gasped Cho in between laughs.

"Right. I'll be right back with your orders," the elderly gentleman replied, motioning for his charmed quill and pad, which had been steadily taking down the order, to follow him before disappearing behind a set of swinging steel doors.

"Well, that was easy enough," said Marietta brightly, before taking a seat in front of her friend, who had managed to control her laughing fit.

"Right," Cho replied, rolling her eyes.


"So, you saw Cho at the party last night?" asked Hermione in a low voice, leaning in across the table.

"At least, I think so. She left so soon and I only got to see her for a minute or so," replied Harry, frowning. He'd managed to explain the highlights of the previous night in a matter of minutes, carefully leaving out the detail of the notebook, since he wasn't quite sure what to do with it yet and had simply left it to continue gathering dust or whatnot in his drawer.

"It's entirely possible, when you take into account how many acquaintances and friends John has," she said thoughtfully.

"What's it supposed to mean?" said Ron, taking a sip of his latte.

"It might not mean anything at all. Why are you so caught up in all this, anyway, Harry? I thought you'd gotten over her a long time ago," Hermione said, arching an eyebrow questioningly.

"You didn't see her last night, when she looked at me," he said quietly. "She had this expression on her face..."

"Nausea? Hate?" suggested Ron. Hermione glared at him, narrowing her eyes.

"Be serious, Ron," she scolded.

"I am serious."

"No, she looked, I dunno, happy to see me, almost," Harry said, shaking his head.

"That is a bit confusing, isn't it? Did you try talking to her?" queried Hermione, placing a hand under her chin and biting her lower lip slightly.

He shook his head again. "She left too soon for me to say anything to her."

A long silence followed his last comment as Hermione returned to pondering, Ron continued sipping, and Harry absent-mindedly fiddled with the packets of sugar to the right of his coffee.

"Well? What do you want to do about it?" Hermione said finally.

He shrugged. "I don't know," he answered truthfully.

"I doubt it's anything to get yourself all worked up over if you don't like her anymore, mate... Do you?" asked Ron.

"Why all the unanswerable questions?" he quipped, smiling slightly and lifting an eyebrow.

"Why the avoidance of trying to answer the questions?" retorted Hermione, grinning slyly.

"All right, I surrender," he said, putting up his hands slightly as a form of defeat.

"Not quite the answer I wanted to hear, but, all right," she replied with a laugh.

"So... did she look good?" Ron asked curiously.

"Erm, well, I..." Harry faltered, turning slightly scarlet.

Ron and Hermione exchanged glances.

"She looked good," they said simultaneously, smiling.

He turned a darker shade of red, only further confirming their suspicions.

"There's nothing to be ashamed of, Harry. She was a good-looking girl in school, and she's probably a gorgeous woman," assured Ron. "But definitely not as good-looking as you, 'Mione," he added quickly after a warning look from Hermione.

"You could always ask John for her address; I'm sure he'd be able to get it, dating Marietta and all," advised Hermione.

"And what would I do with her address? Just show up at her doorstep out of the blue? 'Oh, I was just in the neighborhood and I decided to drop by and say hello and I just happened to know where you live. Mind if I come in?' " Harry said sarcastically.

"Not exactly what I had in mind," Hermione scoffed.

"Why not?" asked Ron, frowning and looking from his best friend to his girlfriend, perplexed. They stared incredulously at him for a few moments before erupting into laughter.

"Tactless should be your middle name," chuckled Hermione.

"I'm not tactless!" he snapped. "I'm just saying, why can't Harry go see her with some made-up excuse? He could probably figure for himself whether or not she still likes him by how she acts."

"He didn't know when she needed to be comforted," pointed out his less-than-enthusiastic girlfriend.

Harry blushed again, saying indignantly, "She was just crying all over me and I didn't know what exactly to do at the moment. How was I to know she was being torn apart by at least five different emotions?"

Ron snorted to which Hermione replied by saying huffily, "Well, it was your idea!"

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "If it's such a wonderful plan, why don't you do it yourself, and tell me how it all goes?"

"Me?" Ron gulped, suddenly turning a few shades paler.

"You. Like Hermione said, we could always go and ask Harvey what her address is, and then you can come up with the clever explanation you're going to tell her when you suddenly show up at her front door without any warning whatsoever," said Harry, smirking as his friend's eyes widened, whether in fear or panic, he couldn't tell.

"But—what would I say?" he stammered.

"I thought you were supposed to be brilliant enough to think of something," replied Hermione calmly.

"And I thought you said I was tactless."

"You're the one who denied it; are you going back on your denial?"

"So what if I am?"

"The two of you can do what you want, go together to see her, if you like, or just don't go at all, but I would appreciate the help," interrupted Harry as he sensed a perpetual back-and-forth argument beginning.

"Fine. Ron, we're going together," said Hermione firmly, adding as her boyfriend opened his mouth to protest, "and if you don't cooperate, I'll be showing everyone at work that picture of you in those pink footie pajamas."

"I only wore those because my grandmother still thinks, to this day, that I'm a girl, and she wouldn't even believe me when I told her that I wasn't! For someone who can't see that well, she can still hurl a merciless Spanking Hex..." he half-shouted, ears turning bright red.

"Right, so you'll be joining me without a fuss," Hermione nodded.

"Just out of curiosity, how old were you when that picture was taken? Three? Four?" inquired Harry, propping his head on a fist.

His friend turned completely red and mumbled something under his breath.

"Sorry, didn't hear that," Harry said cheerfully.

"It was taken just a few months ago," Hermione readily replied for him.

"Hermione," Ron hissed, instinctively holding a finger up to his lips.

"Oh, so you can yell for the entire café to hear that your grandmother can still—ahem—discipline you and that she thinks you're a girl, but you won't let me tell Harry—quietly, mind you—when a photograph was taken?" Hermione asked incredulously, emphasizing her point with a sharp look.

Ron finally looked as though he'd been beaten as he slumped down in his seat sullenly, muttering darkly. Hermione grinned.

"Blackmail... not bad," replied Harry, smiling back.

"It's not that difficult when we know everything about each other anyway." Hermione said, with a small shrug.

"Speaking of which, Harry, have I told you about this one book I found underneath the bathroom sink in her flat the other day?" asked Ron maliciously, smirking.

Her mouth fell open and she picked up her purse and began to hit him insatiably saying and emphasizing each word with a blow as she did, "Be—quiet—you—great—prat!"

"So nice to see how much you love each other," Harry said, sitting back and grinning as Hermione continued to beat Ron senseless.


(Just for the heck of it)

Disclaimer: (crosses fingers) Oh no, everything here's mine, I swear!

A/N: Okay, so here's another chapter, and you didn't have to wait for six months this time! As for my email review reply idea, I'm just gonna go ahead and reply in my updates, because it's too much trouble to track down everyone's address, and then there are the people who probably aren't giving me their email because they think I'll stalk them or something, etc. No excuses this time, but band camp will be something of an interference and then school starts up again for me August 2nd. So, bear with me if the updates become more spaced out.

Back to work I go on Red Roses... but one more announcement. This fall I'll be taking the PSAT and it's really essential that I make good scores on it in order to get early admittance (as in being accepted this year and then, when I finish high school, I've already got a college to go to the following fall)/a scholarship into the college I want to go to, so that I don't have to scramble around, etc. later on in life to get money loans and whatnot. So, obviously, I'll have to be concentrating a bit harder on my studies this year than I was last year, and if I have another six-month gap in my update times, please bear with me, because I promise I'll get this story out. I just need to get ready for the test, take it, and then I'll have more time to relax and write. Thanks so much to you all for being so supportive and faithful, and I promise that these author's notes will eventually get shorter.