Chapter 10

Hermione sat on the couch, patiently thumbing through the directory while Ron paced back and forth with crimson ears, ranting and raving while his girlfriend continued to calmly search.

"…I thought Harry was going to be the one to do this, but no, he has to have us make sure the coast is clear first. I could very well blackmail you with that book I found into not forcing me to go with you," he threatened, eyes flashing.

"And I'd match you with the Christmas card your family sent to your grandmother last year, with you in that frilly pinafore to match with Ginny," she replied coolly, perusing a page quickly.

"Well, how would you feel if I told Harry and everyone else at work about you still having to sleep with a stuffed animal?" he retorted, crossing his arms resolutely.

She shrugged and said, "I don't know, Ron, how would you feel about me putting an announcement in the Daily Prophet about how you managed to lodge a Fizzing Whizbee into your right nostril last week, with pictures included?"

He paused, puffing out his chest in annoyance, a motion only Percy could rival, before finally muttering, "I need to stop telling you everything."

She laughed shortly before setting aside the directory book to stand up and stand on her tiptoes to kiss him on the nose and wrap her arms around his waist, gestures he reluctantly returned.

"Even if you could manage to keep every embarrassing or awkward situation from me, I'd still have enough information to bother you with for quite a while. Anyway, that's beside the point. We can either keep threatening each other, or we can help Harry find someone to tell everything to and be blackmailed by," Hermione grinned, looking up at him as she spoke.

Ron smiled back with his lopsided, good-natured smile and said suddenly, "'Mione?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm glad I found my someone."

"I couldn't be happier about the fact that I found mine, too," she said softly.

"It's yours truly, correct?" he asked jokingly.

"Only if I'm yours."

"You've always been the only girl for me," he replied.

"Good. Now that we've got all that cleared away, let's get to searching for that address, shall we?" she said, removing herself from his embrace and returning to the sofa, where he joined her.

"I've always liked this couch," he remarked. "It's really comfortable."

"I like it, too. I'm thinking about getting an armchair that matches it, since I've got that empty space over there," she said absently, jerking her head towards the vacant spot.

"Mm."

"Charleston, too far, Chipper, no… ah! Here it is, Cho Chang, Flat 801, Carrington Building…London. Isn't that—?"

"—Harry's building," Ron finished for her in a low voice.

"Judging by her flat number, she's most likely on the floor below Harry's and in the apartment below Harry's," Hermione barely whispered, slightly in awe.

"What are the odds of that happening?" asked Ron incredulously, taking the directory out of his girlfriend's hands to look more closely at the address, as if there had been some misprint.

"Not very likely; probably less than one in a million. Do you think we should tell Harry?"

"I dunno. Let's just wait until after we go see her."

"When do you think that should be?"

"I don't know. I thought you were supposed to be the cleverest witch in our year."

"And I though you were supposed to be the one who came up with the clever idea to go and see Cho in the first place."

"It wasn't my idea for the two of us to go and pay her a visit. I was thinking more along the lines of letting Harry do the honors."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You really can't tell how he's feeling, can you?"

"What do you mean by that?" Ron asked indignantly.

"Harry's obviously asked us to go for him because he's still uncomfortable about the whole situation," she explained with a patronizing air.

"He said that he was just confused about what to do. You were there; you heard him say that."

"He said that, but his face said that he was feeling awkward about the whole thing, as though he wasn't sure about how to handle it."

"How do women see this?" he inquired of no one in particular, shaking his head.

"We're just naturally more adept at reading emotions than men are," she replied, grinning.

"D'you reckon she's still mad about me abusing her Quidditch team?" he mused, scratching his chin thoughtfully.

"Who? Cho? You think she'd still be angry over something that happened all the way back in our school days? I doubt it," she snorted. "Even she's got more sense than that. She was sorted into Ravenclaw for a reason. Although I still can't believe that, after all these years, you're as faithful a Chudley Cannons fan as there ever was."

"They'll be making their comeback one of these days, mark my words," defended Ron.

"Consider them marked," Hermione quipped. "Now, I propose that you go home and we both take nice, long naps and then go drop in on Cho first thing tomorrow morning. Fair enough?"

"It sounds perfectly fine by me," he replied, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek before Disapparating with a loud pop.

—————————

"Can you believe it?!" Marietta squealed loudly, shoving her hand in Cho's face.

It took more than a moment for Cho to register exactly what had been added to her friend's hand that was so exciting.

"I don't see anything," she said at first, frowning.

"Oh, honestly, Cho, look harder," Marietta replied, rolling her eyes and giving her hand another push so that it was even closer to Cho's eyes.

She stared at each finger and the back of the hand, feeling utterly stupid. There wasn't anything different. The nails had been painted a bright shade of crimson a few days or so before in preparation for John's party, each rounded off perfectly on top, the color sealed in with an extra protective layer of enamel. The promise ring John had given her for their 6-month anniversary was there, on top of which rested an engagement ring, and—

Everything stopped.

An engagement ring?

"You're engaged?" Cho muttered slowly, as excitement could be seen mounting anew in her friend's eyes.

"Yes! John came by my flat this morning, and we had argued for a while until he finally yelled, 'Well, I'm sorry if I wanted to propose to you last night, but you don't have to get all shirty with me for asking why you left so early,' and of course my heart melted right then and there and I told him I'd marry him," Marietta positively gushed, clasping her hands together in rapture.

"All… right," Cho answered carefully, feeling happy for her friend and then also a bit frightened at Marietta's sudden relapse into her old ditzy habits.

"Oh, don't mind me, I'm just so happy I had to tell someone," her friend dismissed impatiently at the look on Cho's face, grinning from ear to ear. No, not ear-to-ear. It had to be from one wall of the hallway back down to the elevator.

"Evidently," Cho yawned as she leaned against a side of the doorframe and sleepily half-closed her eyes.

Marietta had come over considerably late in the morning, but Cho's body seemed to have not compensated for the complete lack of rest the night before, as if a full ten hours of sleep simply wasn't enough.

"You're not still tired, are you? I'm beginning to think you should go and see a medi-wizard. Or witch," added Marietta, placing both hands on her hips and tapping a foot disapprovingly.

"Well, I'm sorry, but not everyone's been proposed to by the love of their life this morning," replied Cho sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

"I could always look Harry up for you, you know," Marietta hinted slyly with a small grin, which faded away at the look on her friend's face. "I was just joking," she added hastily.

"Of course you were. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to keep working on my article," Cho murmured, turning to walk back into her flat and close the door.

"But you didn't even say congratulations to me!" huffed Marietta.

"Congratulations," she said half-heartedly, before closing the door with a small snap.

"Well!" Marietta exclaimed indignantly. "No matter. I'm sure she'll feel better once she's had another good night of sleep."

Then, turning to go, she happily strolled towards the elevator and pressed the button as, almost as though it had been timed, the doors slid open and she came face-to-face with the last two people on earth she'd expect to see there, of all places.

"Hermione! Ron? What—what are you doing here?" she asked, flabbergasted.

"We, um, just came by to—to…" Ron attempted, being at a total loss for words as well.

"—to talk to Cho about something," finished Hermione, not quite sure whether it was the right thing to say or not.

"Cho? About… what?" she inquired, arching an eyebrow in slight suspicion.

"It's… well, you see, we came by to ask her…" Hermione explained adequately, looking as though she was debating whether or not to give away the reason why she and Ron were visiting Cho Chang, their best friend's ex-girlfriend that they hadn't seen for years.

"Is it… about… Harry?" Marietta asked carefully, shrewdly and logically working her way through the puzzle.

"Why would you assume something like that?" Hermione replied, involuntarily stiffening.

"I think, if you wouldn't mind, that this can be further discussed over a drink," said Marietta slowly.

"All right… but no coffee," Hermione agreed cautiously, immediately quenching any attempts at protesting on Ron's part by elbowing him in the ribs.

—————————

"I wonder if one could develop an addiction to chocolate sundaes," reflected Marietta, scooping out another large spoonful of ice cream from her bowl.

"It's possible," shrugged Hermione.

"So, would you like to tell me any specifics about Harry?" Marietta asked, quirking an eyebrow suggestively.

"That depends on whether or not you plan on telling us anything about Cho," blurted Ron, before Hermione could reply. A muffled thump from underneath the table, followed by an "Ouch!" from Ron implied that he'd received his punishment for speaking irrationally.

"And that depends on what you want to know," Marietta replied slyly, grinning.

"All right, here's what we know," began Hermione, clamping a hand over Ron's mouth. "Harry still has feelings for Cho—"

"But he never said that. How do you know?" interrupted Ron, tugging her hand away from his mouth.

"Feminine instinct," she replied. "Anyway, we thought he'd forgotten all about her, and didn't think anything about her—"

"Until the New Year's party at John's place day before yesterday," finished Ron.

"Will you stop interrupting me?" Hermione snapped crossly, slapping his wrist sharply as he reached to take a drink from her milkshake.

"You're being so abusive today," he complained, rubbing his sore wrist.

"As I was saying, after Harry saw Cho at the party, his mood changed," resumed Hermione, ignoring her boyfriend. "He became distant and distracted, like he was only half there. When we went to visit him the next morning, or, rather, yesterday morning, he was still the same, but looking worn out, as though he'd kept on thinking without going to sleep."

Marietta nodded gravely, indicating for her to continue.

"We talked to him yesterday, and that was when I came to the conclusion that he still likes her," finished Hermione.

"And I had come up with the idea to go and see Cho today to see if she felt the same way," added Ron, after making certain that he wouldn't be hit for contributing to the conversation.

"Obviously, he needed me to come along with him to make sure that he didn't get his behind hexed from Cho's apartment to the moon, which is our reason for being there this morning. You?" asked Hermione, smirking at the look on Ron's face.

Without saying a word, Marietta flashed a bright smile and held up her hand for them to see, the late morning sunlight streaming in through the window beside their booth and catching on the bright diamond on her finger.

"You're engaged?"

"Just this morning."

"Congratulations," smiled Hermione, as Marietta beamed at her.

"Thanks."

"So, you were at Cho's this morning to tell her that you're engaged?" asked Ron.

"Yep," Marietta replied, rolling her eyes, "and I think I caught her at a bad time, since she was less than supportive."

"I thought she was your best friend," frowned Hermione.

"She is. She's just not a morning person," Marietta shrugged.

"Remind you of anyone?" inquired Hermione, giving Ron a pointed look.

"Harry?"

"Ha, ha," she said dryly.

"Now, stop straying away from the subject. What about Cho?" asked Ron impatiently, turning to face Marietta again, who was thoughtfully admiring her ring.

"Oh, well, the details really are tedious and the two of you, no doubt, would like to jump straight to the most interesting information. I found out by myself and arranged for Cho to bump into Harry at the party," began Marietta.

"So it wasn't just an accident!" exclaimed Hermione, evidently surprised.

"Yes," nodded Marietta, "as well as Jillian and Kirana. Old friends from school," she added at the look on Ron's face.

"And you know for sure what, exactly?" said Ron, taking the opportunity of his girlfriend's flushed and distracted mood to take her milkshake from under her nose.

"She still likes him, maybe even loves him. I had a long talk with her right after the party, and I found out a great deal of things. From what the three of us know, I'd say we could put something together," concluded Marietta, the corners of her mouth curving upwards slightly as Ron slurped away at Hermione's drink.

"The only question is, what to do?" said Hermione, staring at the table, lost in thought.

Marietta sighed and said, "I really don't know. Cho's so sharp at spotting when I'm up to something, and she's sure to be more suspicious after the party incident. We'd have to be really sneaky to make sure she doesn't find out our plan and ruin it."

"Harry doesn't have any suspicions against us, so we shouldn't have any trouble with him. We could probably have them accidentally on purpose run into each other again somewhere," commented Hermione, snapping out of her reverie.

"But where…?" Marietta trailed off, glancing out the window.

And then she saw it down the street. It was perfect.

"Hermione, Ron, I think… I have a plan," she said, turning back to the two and grinning, that manic glint in her eye.

—————————

Harry perused down the page, grimacing. Auror records leaned on one of two extremes: mind-numbingly boring, or appetite ruining gruesome. Of course, there were the usual shades of gray in between the two, and occasional dips into the puzzling and bizarre, which were either amusing or just head scratching.

Literally piles of these dossiers lay strewn about on his living room floor, and, although he'd been working since early that morning, he wasn't even close to being halfway through.

"If only they'd take the women's work pile up a notch, then the men wouldn't have so much to do," Harry thought. "Then again, they might not be able to handle some of these reports," his mind added as his emerald eyes widened behind his spectacles at the sight of graphic photographs of a crime scene. He might've been able to stomach it better if it hadn't been able to move, as all pictures did in the wizarding world. A mutilated eyeball rolled in and out of the picture, blown by some mysterious source of wind, as the victim, strung by a thick rope from the ceiling, dangled and swayed along with the breeze.

Harry made a face, then quickly closed the file and put it away. He was therefore decidedly surprised and relieved when he heard a knock at his door and rose to answer it.

"Ron?"

"Hey Harry. Catching up on work?"

"It's not like I have much choice; our holiday ends tomorrow at 8:00 sharp when we walk into the Ministry building," Harry snorted, walked back to his spot on the couch.

"Mm," replied Ron absently, studying the pictures on the wall beside the door.

A few silent moments passed between the two before Harry cleared his throat loudly and gave Ron a pointed look, who jumped in return and swallowed hard, as if to dissipate a lump that had suddenly developed in his throat.

"So, Harry, erm, about—about Hermione," he began uncertainly.

"Yes?" his friend asked, raising an eyebrow,

"I was just thinking about proposing to her, you know, not too long from now."

"Or else Harvey and I would have been after your blood, yes," added Harry.

"Well," Ron continued, licking his lips slightly, "I was thinking about taking her to that new restaurant they've just opened in Diagon Alley."

"The one we went to just a few days ago?"

"No, it's this other one they built close to it. Anyway, it's a romantic little restaurant, just right for what I've been planning."

"And?" Harry blinked. It seemed as though it were an open and shut case to him. Which was proof that he'd been reading through files for too long, he supposed.

"And—I was wondering if you'd come with me, to give the place a look over, maybe see if I should still keep my mind set on it," finished Ron, managing to maintain a commendable tone of casualty.

"Oh." Harry replied, adding with his eyes, "Is that all?"

"I was thinking maybe 7 o'clock next… Wednesday?" his friend suggested, seeming to be mulling it over in his mind for a moment before he spoke.

Harry paused for a moment, thinking of some impossibly outrageous notion that Ron and Hermione would actually—no, it was simply too absurd to think of.

"Sure. What should I wear?" he replied, unconsciously running a hand through his hair.

"Dress formally, and make sure you're on time," Ron blurted, and then turned as if to flee for his life, all former signs of composure gone.

"Ron, you all right?"

"Me?" he squeaked. "Yeah. I'm fine. Just perfect."

"How did this morning go?" Harry inquired, the thought just occurring to him.

"She… wasn't home. Sorry," Ron replied, with a hint of stiffness.

"Hm. You might want to go home and take a shower. A cold one," Harry added, taking in his friend's agitated state of mind and appearance. "Or," he said dryly, "you could stay here and help me with these files."

Ron looked towards the teetering stacks of records and then towards the door before patting his friend on the shoulder briefly, almost in sympathy, then walked out the apartment saying, "See you tomorrow, Harry."

Cho-

Found this absolutely fabulous place to have the reception for the wedding, and, perhaps, the rehearsal dinner. Of course, I expect you to help me with the planning, as my maid of honor, and as such, your first duty will be to meet me there at 7 o'clock next Wednesday to see if it's worthy of our attention. The name of the place is The Aurora Borealis. Nifty, isn't it? I hear the decorations are simply divine. Make sure you're dressed nicely (and please don't show up in the oldest muggle clothes you own, just to annoy me) and on time. Leave the reservations to me. I forgive you for your lack of enthusiasm this morning, by the way.

-Marietta

Cho snorted loudly as she read the letter; her friend was already beginning to act like a stereotypical teenage girl again, and without a doubt almost as nauseatingly perky. Although even the name of the restaurant sounded a bit out of Marietta's price range, she thought of John, and his almost abnormal amount of wealth, and quickly dismissed such thoughts from her head. Money really was no issue. Whether or not the restaurant met her friend's high standards was another subject entirely; Marietta had the habit of setting her eyes on a certain prize and settling for no more and no less than exactly what she wanted.

The flowers had to be arranged just so, and the atmosphere of the place, Cho knew, would have to be perfectly romantic and appropriate.

Romance seemed wasted on Cho, for she stubbornly refused to succumb to it in any form or fashion, and the closest she had come to giving in to it had been her quick brush with Harry a few days before. She gave a small frown at the recollection, although it hadn't been directly unpleasant. He'd become extremely handsome over the years, as far as she could recall from her whirlwind encounter with him, and, she managed to remember, still possessed the same ability to make her go weak at the knees with a single word. Now that her head wasn't swirling in a vortex of emotions, however, she found that it wasn't exactly the best way for their paths to cross again.

Scribbling a quick reply on the back of her friend's note, she sent Aphrodite on her way, much to the indignation of the owl who had brought her the letter in the first place.

"Sorry," she shrugged at the bird as it ruffled its feathers angrily, "but Dite was about to go nutters if I didn't let her out for a breath of fresh air. You accomplished your original task."

It clicked its beak sharply as though it didn't quite agree, bent on maintaining the belief that his duty was only half done, but all the same accepted the food and water that Cho offered him.

The edges of her lips curved upwards slightly as she re-seated herself on the couch, snuggling into the comfort of its pillows and taking up her quill and a roll of parchment, as well as a large hard-cover book to bear down on. Biting her lip slightly, she compared the small notes she'd taken from the team and the ones she'd made during the match. Nothing particularly witty popped into her head, and the paper remained frustratingly clean. She tapped the feathered end of her quill to the side of her nose thoughtfully and looked over her notes again, to see if inspiration would suddenly strike her. Still nothing.

She loved the sport, and she loved to write, but she found that when it came to actually writing about Quidditch, she could only concentrate on the feel of the adrenaline it gave her and the wind raking through her hair rather than jotting it down on paper. Besides that, whatever she did manage to write down sounded either too boring or sickeningly… sentimental. After reading her notes yet another time and still thinking of no proper way to start off her article, she roughly shoved her pen and paper away from her in frustration. There was no way to deny it any more, she thought with a sigh; she had writer's block.

Not only would memories of past Quidditch matches come to mind whenever she attempted to compose something, but past opponents as well, which included Harry, which brought her to thinking of the party a few days ago. Which, of course, was absolutely no good, because she would then be seized by another fit of frustration, dashed with a touch of confusion for good measure, and her mind would be successfully distracted. Sighing loudly, she decided to go and look for a dress to wear to the restaurant, even though she already had a considerable number of perfectly appropriate clothes. Already being dressed, all she had to do was grab her purse, let Marietta's owl fly out, and put on a jacket.

While she walked down the street towards the familiar streets of Diagon Alley, a small thought tickled at the back of her mind, which she tried to ignore. Marietta wouldn't try something like that again… would she?

"No. She wouldn't," Cho decided firmly in her mind. "She knows better than that."

Marietta evidently didn't, as she rejoiced in her flat on the other side of London by letting out a loud squeal after reading her friend's note.

A/N: I survived the PSAT, yay! However, you can imagine how extremely ticked off I was to find out that whatever I score on it now doesn't matter because I won't get a scholarship unless I do well on it next year. Grr. Sorry about the long delay, as usual. Marching band is getting hectic lately, since we have our second (and last competition) this Saturday and we're practicing like crazy, and then I have a heap of tests coming up which I can only pray that I will do well on. Now, this is usually the part where I reply to your reviews, but I thought I'd try something a bit different. I now have an account on that everyone can go to for my review replies, and can't really complain about it, because I'm not posting review replies directly on my chapters. I'm also re-uploading all the chapters without the replies in them in this story and in Red Roses. Anyone who has any further comment on can find my email address and my livejournal address on my bio.

Much gratitude to everyone who reviewed!

-Unicorn13