A/N: All right, so I have not posted in a long time. Is that not the story of my fanfiction life? I'm sorry! But I swear, by all things Harry Potter, I will have chapter 8 up next week. Thanks to my new reviewers—you will be granted a small country in my new world order.

I Never Lived

Chapter 7

They arrived at the Burrow a little before seven o'clock that night, only to see that everyone else was already present. Besides the Weasleys (which included the wives), there was Luna, Angelina, Remus, Tonks and Richard. Molly was happily busy in the kitchen assisting the magicked kitchen supplies while speaking avidly with her daughter-in-law Penelope.

" 'Arry!" Fleur exclaimed upon seeing him in the living room. She pecked him on both cheeks as Hermione greeted Angelina. She found it humorous that she now reached up to kiss him whereas she had bent down five years previously.

"Hello Fleur," he responded.

"All right Harry?" her husband wondered, shaking his hand.

"Just fine, Bill." Harry grinned.

Hermione moved to say hello to Luna, who was talking to Ginny. She noted, with a wry smile, that Richard stood right next to her and didn't appear to want to leave her side.

"Hello Luna, Ginny, Richard!" she hailed.

"Good evening Hermione," Luna replied, "Did you happen to find any information about the missing dorfmuffs?"

"Er… no—not yet. It's… difficult." Luna had come to Hermione with a case of a vanished group of dorfmuffs, insisting it was a hate crime by wizards, and asking for help. Hermione thought she knew the solution to the problem: dorfmuffs did not exist! Of course, she did not voice this opinion; Luna had indeed subsided in her weirdness but she occasionally had her slip ups.

"How has it been with Richard and your brothers?" Hermione quietly asked Ginny, pulling her aside.

"Terrible, and dinner hasn't even started! I came at 6:30, which was a monstrous mistake, and they bombarded him! They've only now let off but I know they have much more for him. I think he's traumatized."

"I'll have Harry sit next to him at the table for his safety," she smiled.

"Harry, mate," Ron said, clapping him on the shoulder when he had finished speaking with Tonks and Angelina, "I got tickets for the upcoming Kestrel, Bat game. It's Saturday."

"Excellent! I'll try to get the day off," he answered.

"Back to work tomorrow?"

"Yes, and the additional four hour training." Harry grumbled, rolling his eyes. Ron smiled.

"Outside everyone! It's ready," Mrs. Weasley declared as Penelope carried a dish out of the house, followed by Percy, "Charlie, dear, get the silverware. Ron, grab the glasses and don't break them! George, love, take two dishes—NO! Use your hands! You don't need magic for everything!"

"I thought you said it was ready." Fred muttered, an arm around Angelina's waist. Molly glared at him.

"You go fetch your father. I know he's fiddling with his Muggle gadgets," she instructed. The twin went grudgingly, leaving his girlfriend to merge with Harry, Ron and Hermione.

"Remus, if you'd be a sweetheart and carry the tarts—" Mrs. Weasley began.

"Of course Molly," he remarked.

Once outside, to where the table had been extended significantly, Hermione implored to Harry regarding Ginny's problem.

"Sit next to Richard," she told him.

"Why?" he asked.

"Because you'll get to know him better, and because the Weasley men have been targeting him. Oh," Ron was walking to Richard's left where there was an empty spot in a determined fashion, "Go! Go!" Hermione quickly guided Harry to the vacant seat and pushed his back with all of her strength. He staggered, startled, and grabbed the back of the chair for support. Ron, mere inches away, frowned heavily.

"Sorry Ron!" Hermione sweetly smiled, going to sit on Ginny's right. He looked at her, Richard, then at his best friend whom had sat down unsurely, with his own frown.

"Hey, Richard…" he mumbled.

"Harry," the man answered, his apprehension evaporating.

Luna sat next to Harry, and Ron, on one end of their side, took the place beside her. George was next to Hermione, Bill next to him, and Fleur on the other end of their side. Across from Richard on the other side of the table was Molly. Arthur sat on her left, Remus on his left, Tonks next to Lupin, Angelina next to Tonks, and Fred on their end of the table. Percy, Penelope, and Charlie were the last three on Molly's right side.

They started to eat and commence spirited chatter. It was the fullest Harry had ever seen the Burrow and it was fantastic. Five seconds did not pass without laughter coming from somewhere along the table.

"So Ginny, I hear you hate your job too." Harry said, while Richard spoke with Hermione.

"Do you?" she smiled.

"Yes. It's nice to know I'm not alone."

"I was going to ask for your help, Harry. I really want to become an Auror and since you and Tonks work in the department, I thought you could direct me, if I need it."

"Of course! I can get you an application if you need, and when you're finished just give it to me; I'll hand it off to the right people," He might as well use his fame and influence for the good of others, "Though, I don't feel wholly right for dragging you into the murky depths that belong to being an Auror."

"It cannot be that horrible. You, Mr. Potter, are just impossible to please," grinned Ginny.

"I was not that bad," they heard Ron protest, ears possessing a hint of red, "And not so loud!" He glanced at his mother.

"You were dancing on the table. Atrociously." Charlie replied, smiling. Harry grinned, realizing what they were discussing: Ron's 20th birthday party.

The Chudley Cannons had rented an entire pub and thrown Ron a surprise birthday celebration. It was very enjoyable, with many people and plenty of food. Ron, however, consumed a more than adequate amount of alcohol and ended up dancing enthusiastically on the tables to numerous songs performed by the live band.

Most everyone on Ron's side of the table snickered or hid large smiles.

"Wait, he has a point Charlie," began George, leaning casually back in his seat, "He wasn't that bad—he dances like that on a regular basis, not only when full of whiskey." Laughter rang out but died upon a glare from Ron; Ginny did not cease, on the other hand.

"You're one to laugh Ginny," her brother started, "Need I remind you of your 18th birthday?" She shut her mouth and glowered at him as the others laughed again. Consequently, Harry did not join them but rather cleared his throat and began to blush as Hermione wore an embarrassed smile.

"I had way too much to drink! It affected my judgment!" Ginny hissed.

"That was obvious." Bill mused.

"Ginny's friends made sure to have more than enough alcohol for her on her past birthday. She had undoubtedly had it before, but not to that excess; that had been the birthday to get her "properly pissed". (The following day the Weasley girl vowed to never get drunk again).

…

Ginny clumsily walked by one of her friends who was in deep conversation with a young wizard whose name escaped Ginny. She had a drink in her left hand and went to take a swig.

"Gmpf!" she exclaimed as she stumbled on nothing in particular. She would have gone quite far had she not fallen into someone.

"Harry!" she cried happily, clinging to him, "I mean—I mean—Harry. Ssssh!" Ginny lowered her voice and shushed him. He frowned down on her.

"They're looking for me," she told him shiftily.

"Ginny, you're drunk," he commented.

"No I'm not!"

"Yes, you are. Give me your drink."

"No! Get your own," Ginny half-shouted, "You're not my brother, 'cause I have six and you're not one of 'em. I don't need ano-another, thanks."

"Ginny—" Harry commenced.

"They're looking for me."

"You already said that. Who is?" He tried to wrestle the drink from her and balance her at the same time. Her legs seemed to have stopped functioning.

"Everyone! Ron, Bill, George, Fred, Hermione—they don't want me drinkin'."

"I don't either, not like this. Let me—"

"We're both leos, yeah Harry?" she wondered loudly.

"Er…yeah. Ginny—" Harry responded.

"Can I tell you something Harry?"

"Sure." He saw the group she was running from not too far away and caught its attention with his eyes.

"I used to like you. I used to fancy you a lot. A lot. Remember?"

"Uh, yes, Ginny…" Drunk or not, it was odd talking about that.

"You were cool Harry; I liked you. I still do but like a friend, 'cause you're my friend and you're with Hermione and she's my friend too!" explained Ginny.

"Uh huh." Harry tried for the drink again but she would not let go.

"Hey where's Hermione?" she asked.

"Coming, thank Merlin…"

"Will she be upset if I kiss you? I've always wanted to."

"What?" he questioned, thrown violently off track. Ginny then dropped her drink on the floor and threw her arms around his neck, crashing her lips into his.

Harry was immeasurably taken aback, to say the least. After a few moments of immobility from absolute shock he pulled back from her, face displaying everything he felt.

"Ginny!"

"Oi! Hermione! He's a good kisser! Would you be willing to share him?" she yelled, turning to find the brunette. Hermione stood not three feet from them wearing an expression that most everyone else, who was also gawking at the couple, had on. Ginny closed her eyes and made a small groan.

"I don't feel very well," she noted, leaning against Harry.

…

"It was an obvious mistake with a reasonable explanation." Ginny defended, arms folded. Richard did not appear to have liked the story as much as certain others.

"It ended well for Harry!" quipped George. The Boy Who Prevailed's cheeks were burning as light laughter floated around him.

"Yeah, it's a good thing Ginny was laggered otherwise we might have had to kill you Harry, mate," revealed Charlie.

"Hear that Richard?" Ron called over Luna's giggles.

"You wouldn't have been the only one murdering someone." Hermione added, looking at Ginny. The redhead tried to look somewhat defiant but her guilt offered a smile instead.

"Hey! You lot sound like you're enjoying yourselves too much," Fred shouted to them, "Have the decency to shut up or include me!"

Hermione walked into the employees' lounge at Books, Bludgers & Batteries with her lunch in her hand at 12:42 on Tuesday afternoon.

"Hermione, duckie, finally!" Natalie hailed, sitting at a table with Talia. Rupert Dash, a fellow employee, sat on one of the sofas with a novel and a cup of tea.

"I'm 20 minutes late to eat because of particularly difficult customers," she sighed, taking a seat, "I created Books, Bludgers & Batteries intending to erase bloodlines, but some things never change."

"What happened?" inquired Talia.

"This pureblood couple came in and gave me hell because they decided I was an incompetent, Muggleborn worker."

"Should have told them you're a bleeding owner," stated Natalie, voice hard.

"They knew. It only angered them further." Hermione said.

"Forget them," advised Talia.

"This'll take your mind off those wassocks," Natalie started, becoming animated, "Sex."

"What?" the brunette wondered, giving a small laugh.

"During the last 10 minutes of our break, Talia and I are going to chat with you about sex!"

"It was her idea. She was talking about it before you came in." Talia remarked, rolling her eyes and smiling.

"And don't worry about Rupert—he's thoroughly absorbed in his book, practically deaf," the blonde told her. Hermione laughed again, expecting this from her friend.

"So, there are three types." Natalie lectured.

"Of sex?" pondered the ex-Head Girl.

"Well that's what we're talking about, peach!"

"Only three?"

"Three main types. All others are subcategories."

"Oh goodness," mumbled Talia, grinning.

"She is amused because she knows what they are," Natalie said, watching her, "Now, Hermione—there is making love, sex, and fucking." Hermione choked on her sandwich and looked at Rupert, aghast. When she continued to cough, Talia performed a spell.

"Natalie!" she gasped, face red but alive.

"Love, I told you—he's a statue. As I was saying, three types! I listed them in order of their severity."

"S-Severity?"

"Yes. Making love is the most, shall we say… tame. It is preferred when you are tired and don't want to do much work, when you want to show your partner how much you care about them through physical contact, and when special days come up, such as Christmas and Valentine's Day." Natalie reported.

"This is where you entered the pictured." Talia noted.

"So… the next type?" Hermione wondered, looking furtively at Rupert. She was not quite intrigued with the blonde's notions regarding sex.

"Sex," the philosopher smiled, "This one has the most subcategories by far. Make-up sex, angry sex, sympathy sex…. Well, anyway, it is the type most often used, probably because it lets you express some of your feelings for your partner but rid of some of that sexual frustration as well. Like I said, it's the most common. Happens every day, on anniversaries…"

"And making love doesn't do that?"

"No. It only lets you convey love, hence the name. It's enjoyable but pure emotion—nothing really dodgy going on."

"Our own personal sexologist," declared Talia.

"You love me," she answered, patting her hand, "Now, the last: fucking."

"It sounds so brutal." Hermione pointed out.

"Well it isn't making love," Natalie smiled, "It's along the lines of animal sex. Humans revert back to their animalistic sexual instincts, to some degree. This type is pure lust. It happens when you're randy as hell, and just want to bang your lover like there's no tomorrow. There is no emotion involved whatsoever and it's rough… good for birthdays. If it's done correctly you'll get to the point where you can't think about anything but how damn good it feels, even forgetting your partner's name."

"So let me summarize," Harry's girlfriend offered, smiling, "Making love is the sentiment, sex is the sentiment and lust, and fuh—and the last, is the lust."

"Oh, you've got it! I'm so proud!"

"Am I allowed to share this riveting theory?"

"Please do! It should be shared with all," grinned Natalie. Talia laughed, "Now, what we also need to cover—faking it!" Hermione let out a scandalized laugh as the door to the room opened.

"Talia, Natalie—Tomain needs you out now. The midday rush is coming in and Franky needs her break." Alex informed.

"Oh damn," the blonde witch replied. Talia discarded her trash with her wand and stood up. Natalie followed suit, "We'll finish this later!"

Hermione walked out of Books, Bludgers & Batteries about 15 minutes after five o'clock. She had been considering going to the Ministry and waiting for Harry's shift to end since 3:30, and was almost set on doing so. (She wanted to surprise him, even if it weren't much). Her poor baby had gotten home ten minutes following ten the previous night; he came with sore muscles and complaints of, what else, his job. Harry wasn't as displeased however, because she was actually there to Heal him and listen to his ranting.

"Oh! Excuse me! I am so sorry," Hermione rushed to apologize, having bumped into a person and registering so a little late, "Truly, my apologies!" She looked up at the person—a young man, with slick white-blonde hair…

"Well well well, look who it is—my former partner in Headship," he smirked, folding his arms. She stared at him, mouth open.

"Do you go out of your way to hit innocent pedestrians Granger? It's rather rude." Draco Malfoy said, his gray eyes arrogantly on her face. He was dressed very well and immaculately, as usual, in jet black robes.

Hermione shook herself out of her trance.

"I said I was sorry," she quietly stated, not sure of what to do next. It had been almost two years since her last sighting of the wizard before her.

"Hmm," he claimed, stealthily appraising her. His gaze then shot down the street, "You don't look half bad Granger. Your little shop is down there, isn't it?"

"Yes." Hermione admitted, highly on her guard. Malfoy was unnerving her, especially his seemingly civil attitude. What should she do?

"Books, Bludgers & Batteries. I know a lot about it, and Tomain—she's my great great aunt. I should have known you would produce that." She did not answer but continued to look at him.

"So, how are your dear friends? Potty and Weasel Man?" Malfoy remarked. There was definite resentment and mockery in his voice.

"Perfectly fine." Hermione relayed, in a strained tone.

"Potter's an Auror, to feed his ego, and Weasley works for the pointless Magical Sports Department," he commented, "Still miserably bound to Saint Potter, I presume."

"Pointless? Odd, when you were on an actual Quidditch team Malfoy. And yes—I am still gladly with Harry," she coldly retorted. He gave a satisfied, superior smile.

"Yes, I was on the Falmouth Falcons. But I left after one season when I realized how juvenile, demeaning, and worthless Quidditch really is."

"Decided to market a deadly potion after that then, huh? One which you created with Harry?" Malfoy chuckled appreciatively.

"I do believe you've been stalking me, Granger. So tell me—what am I doing now?" he pondered.

"I do not know," she truthfully told him. Living off your family name and wealth… waiting for your father.

"It's better that way," Malfoy declared, his eyes dancing darkly, "If I ever need anything of you, I won't hesitate to visit Boring Books & Bludgers. It was pleasant seeing you again."

Draco Malfoy walked away from her taking his original route. Hermione turned on her heel and watched his back with distrusting eyes.

"Have a good evening Mudblood!" he bid. A short, cruel laugh then followed. She balled her fists, huffed, and hurried on her own way. That had been a less than agreeable surprise.

Cho's owl inquiring about their lunch date had come Monday afternoon to Harry's office. He deliberated for an hour (much to the annoyance of the owl) and sent a reply that Wednesday was good. Hermione wandered into his mind very soon after and the anxiety of telling her about it set in. How would he explain that it meant nothing and that she truly was the only witch with whom he wanted to be? You can't do it. She'll kill you either way! the frantic part of him insisted. Harry was going to tell her Monday but his four hour session drove it from his mind.

And so he planned to let her know Tuesday after work, but she had her own story about Malfoy to tell and he forgot once again.

"You saw Malfoy!" Harry exclaimed, going after her into the kitchen.

"Yes." Hermione said testily. She then related her conversation with him to Harry.

"He didn't say what he's doing for a career?" the dark haired wizard wondered.

"No, and I didn't care," she claimed, beginning to collect food items for dinner, "I'm willing to bet my life he doesn't have one!"
"He's hiding out like a coward, with every other dark wizarding family missing Voldemort." Harry concluded, staring at the window.

The result was another day of Harry not informing Hermione about Cho. He himself even forgot about it, right up until five minutes before he was supposed to meet her on the day of the actual engagement.

A/N: I wrote this entire chapter last night. I felt badly for not posting so decided to get it all out. Maybe that's way it sucks…. I hate this chapter, by the way.

The lunch with Cho will start off chapter eight. If anyone is wondering what happened to Crookshanks, so am I. Lol. I suppose he's at Hermione's parents' house. Harry still has Hedwig and Ron has Pig, however. They just haven't been mentioned.

I made an extremely major mistake in chapter 4. I said Malfoy played for the Harpies. Well, the Harpies only hire women, so that's not gonna work, lol. Thus I had him say it was the Falcons in this chapter. I'll have it fixed by next week.