"…Baby, everything is falling into place.

Oh, my life is so exciting now I've got my space,

like a splash of water on my face…"– Holding My Own, The Darkness

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

In which Hermionelikes normal namesand Ron mourns his high-tops.

September 28, 2003

"Britain's Favorite Witch-About-Town Changes Her Mind… Again," the headline declared, immortalized in bold, brazen, black letters. Below it was a photo of Hermione and Ron snogging in some unimportant park. The caption read, "Granger's renewed relationship with Cannon's manager Weasley is just the latest in a string of scandalous events surrounding the elfin-rights activist."

"Rita Skeeter has really gone too far…" she spat. Ron had come around the table to see what she was looking at.

"Is that...?"

"Us? Yes." She interrupted. "But this picture is over three-years-old."

"How can you tell?" he asked, snatching the paper away to examine the photo.

"Well, first of all, I haven't kissed you in about three years," she snapped.

To her surprise, he laughed. "That's true." He tossed it back to the table.

"And second of all, you're still wearing those awful yellow trainers you had seventh year."

He raised an eyebrow curiously and leaned over to examine the cited footwear. "That too. Whatever happened to them?"

"You don't remember?" She laughed.

"Of course I do, I was just testing you. You stole them off of my feet when I was sleeping and—"

"—and sent them to Charlie to be burned, that's right. You didn't talk to me for a month."

"I liked those shoes."

"They were awful!"

"They were mine!" As much as he was trying to sound angry, he just couldn't cover the laughter coming up from somewhere deep in his abdomen, where it had been waiting patiently for three years.

And she was laughing, too. "They were hideous!"

"That doesn't make them any less mine!"

"They were awful!"

"And?"

"I hated them!"

"Well, now that you've given that convincing argument."

"Glad you've seen the light."

The laughter sidled out the way it had come, and they sat in companionable silence for a moment.

"I've missed you, Hermione."

"I've missed you, too." And it was true. Draco was great for arguing with, she'd known that even before she kissed him; but he just wasn't as silly as Ron could be. Draco's arguments made sense, up to a point, whereas Ron just argued for the sake of competition. She'd missed that.

"You could have come to see me."

"And you were just running to come visit my flat, right?"

"I couldn't go to your flat."

"And why not?" she snapped.

"I'd look like a stalker!"

She laughed. "Please, not that old spell."

"And you didn't come see me, either."

"What, with everyone in the wizarding world telling me you wanted me dead I should have just walked up to the front door and ask you around for tea?"

He look startled. "I never wanted you dead. Why would I want you dead?"

"I don't know. Maybe because I ran off with your rival five days before our wedding? Or maybe you were still sore about the trainers?"

"Please, not that old spell. It's been three years, Hermione. I'm over you."

She scoffed. "That's impossible. Noone gets 'over' Hermione Granger."

"Oh, I'm sorry, shall I slyly try to win back your affections?"

She gestured towards the prophet. "That's what Rita Skeeter seems to be expecting."

He laughed. "Oh, then. We mustn't disappoint Rita Skeeter."

"Oh no, we mustn't."

He cleared his throat. "Hermione Granger, will you take me back?"

"No." She laughed. He laughed. They laughed.

"Damn. I'm heartbroken."

He stood and walked over to the ice-cupboard.

"I did love you, you know." She said.

He took out two bottles of butterbeer and closed the cupboard door. "I know."

"Just, not the way you wanted me to."

"I know."

"And that wasn't fair to you, I think."

"I know, Hermione, I know. You can stop apologizing. I loved you, too."

"I know."

"I mean, I do love you. I care about what happens to you, but I don't want to marry you."

She took one of the butterbeers. "Aren't we a little old for butterbeer?"

"You're never too old for butterbeer."

"Well, then, isn't it a bit early?"

"For celebrating? No." His bottle opened with a crisp, icy sigh.

"What are we celebrating?"

"Your engagement, your baby, my trainers." He took the liberty of opening hers for her. "To awesome friends." He clinked the bottles together and handed hers back across the table.

"To highlighter-yellow high-tops," she laughed and took a sip.

"About this baby..." he began.

"Yes?" she sighed. She was going to have to tell him; but for the moment, life was much too good to bother with details.

"I was thinking Ronald for a boy, Ronette for a girl, eh?"

"Ronette?"

"Ronnie for short."

"I think not."

"What, then, have you already decided?"

"Yes," she lied. "Something normal."

"Like what?"

She thought for a second, "Clare for a girl."

"Clare?" He made a face. "Why?"

She scoffed. "Why not?"

"It's so… normal."

"What, would you rather have me name her Apple?"

"Apple? What for?"

She sighed. "Just a conversation I had with Lucius yesterday, that's all."

"You call him Lucius?"

"He is my fiancé's father, it's only natural that we be on a first-name basis." That was a lie, Hermione would never have called Mr. Malfoy Lucius to his face, she'd be too frightened. It was something rebellious she did behind his back that made her feel special.

"Hasn't he told you to call him 'Lucy' yet?"

"Merlin, you are as immature as I remember."

"I only—" He was cut off by his sister tumbling headfirst out of the kitchen fireplace.

"Don't do it!" Ginny stood, brushing soot off of her jeans and too-large T-shirt. "Don't do it, Ron!"

"Ginny, what are you talking about?" Ron asked.

"DontgobacktothatwhoreshesjustgoingtoleaveyouagainlikeshedidlasttimeletherhaveherstupidMalfoysshedeservesthemjustdontdoit!" She said, and then fainted away from the sheer effort of not breathing.

"Well… I suppose I ought to take her home…" He sighed. "She really shouldn't read the Daily Prophet anymore. She can't just go interrupting my breakfast every time she reads something offensive." He lifted Ginny up onto his shoulder with one arm and grabbed a handful of floo powder with the other. He turned back to Hermione before going. "I really am glad that you've come to stay, Hermione." He threw the floo powder down and stepped onto the hearth. "Diagon Alley!" In a whirl of roaring emerald green flames he and Ginny were gone and Hermione was left with a swirling bowl of soggy flakes and pink milk, a fuzzy, bunny-like feeling beginning to spread through her stomach.

A/N: Sorry if last chapter was a little confusing. Of course Hermione still loves Draco, they're meant for eachother. However, I don't think a heartbroken Draco is avoidable, if you'll recall that necklace that hermione is STILL WEARING.

Review? Please?