Harry topped off the tea with rum in all the mugs. He didn't know when he'd become a girl friend, drinking booze and gossiping about boys, but it suddenly appeared to him that he'd become Hermione's girl friend as much as her wife was.

When she'd appeared on their steps, crying and essentially naked, Ginny had retreated upstairs with her, to find proper clothes, and Harry had assumed that left him the role of the protective best friend to go and beat the shite out of the man who had obviously broken her heart. He was sliding his wand into his sleeve when Ginny had come down and merely barked "Well? Can't you at least make a cuppa?"

She left Hermione upstairs, showering off, and talked to Harry in low voices with the kitchen door shut.

Harry was livid. "What did he do to her?" He asked. "Did she say?"

Ginny put a hand on his arm. "Shh, no I don't think it's like that. I thought that at first too. If he had hurt her—" Ginny broke off with a tremble. "But I think they got back together last night. Consensually. And then had an argument this morning. I think she was naked by happenstance, not by nature of the argument." The softened Harry's rage. His best friend showing up naked and sobbing still made him want to maim Malfoy, but less so. Maybe he'd leave him with most of his limbs.

And then Hermione had ambled downstairs, the tear stains scrubbed off of her cheeks, and they had settled down at the table for tea.

And so here they were, drinking tea laced with rum and listening to the latest terrible thing Malfoy had done. It was probably safer for Harry, but also, a little emasculating.

But Ginny didn't understand. "Technically he didn't lie," she said finally. "It was… almost sweet."

Hermione rolled her eyes and poured more rum into her tea. "He wasn't exactly forthcoming with the truth. It was dishonest. How do you start a life with someone built on sterling optimisms like "technically he didn't lie"?

"The start is not the foundation," Ginny said, and stole a look at Harry. "The foundation of a relationship is so much more than that. You two have been together for a year and a half. That's your foundation." Ginny shrugged. "Besides, it's still a better foundation than "hey, there's this law that says I have to get married and you would work, wanna get hitched?""

"Ginny," Harry admonished.

Ginny shrugged. "It's true."

"That's easy enough for you to say," Hermione scowled. "You're already married to the love of your life. The law wouldn't ever impact you."

"There's still Australia," Harry said. "You still have time on that offer. We'd miss you, we'd hate for you to leave, but you shouldn't rush into anything, with him or anyone else."

She nodded. "There's still Australia," she repeated hollowly.

Ginny's face soured. "Hermione, don't leave the country. You love him. He loves you. You know he's the one for you. You both have made some miststeps. Don't be so stubborn about it."

"Ginny," Harry hissed again.

"He didn't lie to you to hurt you. He lied to you so he wouldn't hurt you. It's stupid and convoluted but it's true and you know it. He wouldn't lie to you for the sake of it. Be upset with him for a while. Check his mail now if you need to. But let yourself love him again. Don't move to Australia. Don't be a stubborn bloody idiot about this."

"Ginny, enough," Harry whispered.

But Ginny looked at Hermione with bright eyes. "Hermione, I swear to god, if you move to Australia I would never talk to you again. You two can figure this out after you're married. But you don't have time and you both know you want to be. Get over it enough to let yourself be happy. "

Hermione took another long swig of the rum tea and stood and swayed a little of her feet. This was not the support she expected but she knew her friend was probably right. Damn her.

"I just-" she just what. She didn't know. For two years he'd been throwing her for loops, first in asking her out, and then in actually dating her, and loving her, and being so good. So, so good. He'd taken her wholly by surprise. There had always been something in the back of her mind that had told her not to trust it. Told her she was dreaming, she was delusional, she was being fooled. That little something in the back of her mind had finally found its proof. But the proof was wrapped up in a bigger truth, that he loved her, that he'd do anything for her.

Fucking hell. And she'd been smashing that love with all the grace and tact of bull in a china shop for weeks now.

She took another swig of tea. It was mostly rum at this point. . "I'm going to go. I'll, um, return the clothes later, yeah?"

She disapparated without warning once more.