Hermione stared at her paper. Why was it so hard to think of something to write? She'd be out of a job if she didn't come up with a story by the end of this week, but staring at the paper didn't help. She sighed. She had never been good with stress. Her eyes scampered across the room. She started to stare at the faded curtains. When she was younger she remembered them being the most beautiful shade of green. This place had gone down since she had left Hogwarts, just like her life.

"Um, excuse me, is it okay if I sit here? All the other seats are taken and…"

Hermione looked up to see a tall man in a Chudley Cannons uniform with flaming red hair.

"Ronald Weasely!" Hermione exclaimed loudly. Every head in the place turned toward her. Hermione blushed wildly.

"Yeah, that's me." Ron said, awkwardly.

"You don't remember me, do you?" Hermione asked quietly.

Ron started to blush, "I'm not exactly good with names."

Hermione looked like she was about to cry.

"I'm sorry." Ron said quickly.

"It's okay. I guess I can't really expect someone as famous as you to remember someone like me." Hermione tried to force a smile but failed miserably, "You can sit here. I'd better be getting home anyways."

Hermione stepped up to leave and headed for the door. He had forgotten her. He had really forgotten her.

"Hermione! Wait!" She heard Ron yell, "You left your notebook!" He gave it to her with a smile.

"Thanks." She started to make her way back to the door. For a second she thought he might've remembered her, but it was only her name engraved in her notebook.

"I'm sorry, Hermione." Ron whispered.

"It's okay." She said.

"No, it isn't." He said, "Hermione, we haven't talked since we left Hogwarts. I think I deserve to know why."

"Because…" Hermione started, "It's too hard to explain, Ron."

"You could at least try."

"No, it would ruin everything."

"Hermione, you'll never get anywhere in life if you never take a chance." Ron said, "Hermione, why do you push everyone away."

"It's not everyone!" She said, "It's you!"

"Why only me? What did I do?"

"Everything." She whispered, "I love you."

"You do?" He asked, "But then why –"

"Because it hurt to see you with a new girlfriend every week! Because I wanted to be the one you loved! It hurt too much to see you anymore."

"Do you still love me?" He asked.

"Always." She whispered.

"Come back inside with me."