A/N: Chapter Nineteen!

It was still dark outside, around the time my eyes fluttered open.

I could feel something around my waist. It was warm, definitely an appendage. For a moment, I thought Crookshanks had risen from the dead and nestled up next to me, as he had once done. But this was not the case. It took about five seconds for me to realize that I was not in my own bed and that the warmth around my waist couldn't possibly belong to my deceased cat.

It belonged to my roommate.

For some reason, the divider was no longer in place. Because of this, there was no barrier between us. His arm was around me, drawing me close, close enough that our bodies were shaped together. It wasn't a bad feeling. I mean, it wasn't good for platonic friendship, seeing as spooning with one another would inevitably make for a classic morning wood incident — but still.

It made me smile a little, knowing he was there.

I decided then, that I missed the closeness of sleeping next to another human being. It had been years since the last time, and we all know how that panned out. Don't misunderstand — I loved being single and having the freedom to do as I pleased. It wasn't the romantic or sexual aspects that I missed most. In fact, I didn't miss those as aspects at all. It was intimacy in the purest sense — physical closeness — that I craved.

Part of me wondered if the same was true for Nott.

I knew he wasn't seeing anyone, and that he spent most nights sleeping alone in his enormous bed reviewing hospital records — or working. As carefree as he was, he had to be at least a little lonesome. I mean, I had been in his bed for about three hours, and he was already pressed up against me.

It was kind of cute — but I couldn't jeopardize our friendship.

I had no choice. I had to leave his bed and return to mine without waking him up.

Simple enough.

I'd done it about a hundred times during mine and Ron's short-lived relationship. I mean, sure, it had been six years since then, but I likened bedroom tactics to learning how to ride a bike. Impossible to forget. Bearing this in mind, I shifted a little, testing the waters for a moment, before deciding it was time. I moved at a nice, even pace, first lifting the covers from me and then dragging my legs over the side of the bed.

Behind me, he stirred here and there, during which time I stopped and waited until he settled. It would have been easier to just wake him up and tell him I was going back to my room, but he was too adorable with his face plastered against the pillow and his soft, surprisingly serene breaths. I didn't have the heart to wake him. I had to do this as quick and quiet as possible.

I'm sure I looked ridiculous doing it, but I had no choice.

I made motion to remove his arm from around my waist and tuck a pillow under it, in place of me. It was a classic maneuver, one that I perfected during the Ron days — but the moment I brushed his hand with mine, was the moment he stirred into a dazed, semi-conscious state and drew me in, even closer, whispering something that sounded vaguely like stay into the curve of my neck.

The Next Morning

It was raining.

I struggled to regain control of my umbrella, cursing Daphne for setting up anti-Apparition barriers around her house and neglecting to sort out her connection to the Floo network. The closest I could Floo to her house was in the neighbouring town, which was still fifteen minutes on foot.

Perfect for the summer, but not for the winter.

Thankfully, there wasn't much snow. Just rain. I quickly magicked the umbrella to not bend out of shape and hurried to the front steps of her house. It looked different than last night, mostly because the curtains were closed and there weren't hundreds of guests walking in and out.

Regardless, I had to stay focused.

It was a long shot, but I had to return and search one more time for the letter. Part of me felt it was still in the house somewhere, laying around, waiting to be found. I held on to this hope and knocked on the door, having owled Daphne earlier in the morning that I would be there to pick up something left behind.

"Hermione," she greeted, embracing me as she opened the door. "Come inside. It's dreadful out there!"

I smiled in thanks and followed her through the foyer, where she hung my traveling cloak and ushered me into the main area. It was, to my great disappointment, spick and span. If I hadn't been there myself, I would have questioned whether there had been a party at all.

Daphne noticed the fall in my expression. "I asked the housekeepers to place lost items in the guest room down the first floor corridor," she explained, adorned in an ivory white dressing gown that flowed behind her with each step, practically aglow as she led me to the room in question. "Anyway, I'm glad you're here. I was about to send invitations to Ron's surprise birthday party, which I know isn't for another couple months, but I figured it would be best to let everyone know well in advance for scheduling purposes. Also — I need your opinion on something."

I looked to her, perplexed. "To do with the party?"

She nodded and then wavered. "Erm — it's not so much a party as it is the lot of us going on holiday to Whistler."

"Whistler?" I repeated, eyes wider than ever. "As in…British Columbia?"

"Yes, which I realize is a little unorthodox for witches and wizards, but Ron has always mentioned that he's wanted to go skiing and my parents have a lodge there, so I figured we should all go as a group and mix in with the Muggles," she told me, clearly having thought this through. "I've never been to a Muggle destination, but my parents told me it's lovely and that the snow stays well into Spring. What do you think?"

I blinked, and then nodded, rapidly. "Pardon my language, but that sounds bloody amazing. I wish I had a girlfriend to take me on ski trips!"

She laughed at this, hooking our arms together. "I don't know about the girlfriend part, but you're certainly invited to come. Oh, and, would you mind explaining to me the mechanics of skiing? I tried researching it on the…erm…inter-site…but it's all very confusing."

My face screwed, as I recalled my first and only attempt at skiing. "I can try…"

"Perfect," Daphne smiled, stopping in front of the guest room. "Well, when you're done here, meet me in the kitchen and we'll have some breakfast, yeah?"

"Sounds brilliant," I smiled back, surprised as she kissed me on both cheeks before leaving me to my own devices.

It still startled me to think Ron managed to pull someone as effortlessly gorgeous as Daphne — but this only reaffirmed to me that she was a good person. Plus, she was about to take him and his friends on holiday to fucking Whistler. It would have been a crime not to like her.

Despite this, there were more important matters at hand.

I entered the guest bedroom and found the usual neutral-toned furniture, along with random articles of clothing strewn about, with the occasional shoe, and even a pair of nan-sized knickers — but no letters.

It was beginning to worry me. I honestly believed I would find the letter there, that perhaps the universe would grant me this one wish.

But, no.

I tilted my head back; frustrated. If there were ever a moment to travel back in time and do things differently, it was then. I couldn't handle another publicized scandal. It had been two years since my last one, and people still talked about it. One more and even I would start to believe the papers.

"There goes the promotion…" I mumbled to myself, having applied for one about a week ago.

It was the Head Auror's second-in-command, seeing as the current Head, Kingsley Shacklebolt, was to retire in a two month's time, after which his position would be given to Harry, leaving Harry's former position open for hire.

I wanted it, as I yearned for more responsibility in the department — and the raise in salary didn't hurt either.

But I would have to kiss those dreams goodbye.

There was no chance in hell that I would be hired as second-in-command with yet another scandal in the papers. This one would be arguably worse than the first, as there was documented evidence.

I cringed thinking about it, and made motion to leave for the kitchen, cursing the voice in my head that told me to bring the letter in the first place, before stopping dead in my tracks.

It was faint, difficult to make out against the sound of rain pouring hard on the roof but the more I listened, the easier it was to hear. Voices. Raised voices. I swallowed hard, thinking maybe the voices belonged to Malfoy and Katherine, and that I had caught them in the middle of another argument, but neither of the voices resembled the American.

In fact, they were both male — and both familiar.

I tossed one look over my shoulder to make sure Daphne wasn't there, and quickly followed the voices to the room situated on the other end of the corridor. It was a bad idea — but I couldn't satiate the curiosity in my bloodstream without finding out what all the commotion was about.

Bearing this in mind, I moved closer and pressed an ear to the door.

" — It's none of your business."

"It is my business because she's my friend, and you're taking advantage of her."

"Does your girlfriend know you're here, defending Hermione's honour?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Ha! Thought so. Don't stand there and pretend you're some righteous Gryffindor. I know you, Weasley. I know the only reason you're in here shouting at me, instead of giving Hermione the letter back, is because you're not over her and you can't, in your right mind, relinquish the chance to break my face in. Why? Because we both know what happened between me and her. It's in that letter."

"You're so full of shit, I can smell it from here."

"Talk is cheap. If you want to have a go at me, do it now."

"I'm not here to fight you, you moron. I'm here to demand that you apologize to Hermione and then to Katherine — before I hand her this letter myself and destroy your relationship for good."

"You're a little late on that one. She broke up with me last night."

"Smart girl."

"I'm sure Daphne will have the same revelation and dump your arse soon enough."

"I can't see why she would, since, you know, I treat women with respect. Do you know what that word means, or did you daddy not teach you about boundaries?"

"Don't utter another word about my family, Weasel. Merlin knows I have an entire payload on yours."

"Whatever you say, Ferret. Just apologize to Hermione and this will all be over."

"I already did — last night."

"And?"

"We topped it off with a midnight snog. What else?"

"You're disgusting."

"No, I'm a human being and I make mistakes. Hermione understands that. Maybe you and the rest of your friends could learn a thing or two from her."

"Yeah, like the way she smacked you across the face in our third year. I've been meaning to learn that."

"Sure."

"Apologize to her."

"Already did."

"Then do it again."

"I don't have time for this. Get out of my way, Weas —"

In a sudden, blindingly fast manoeuvre, I darted into another room and closed my eyes, after which a set of footsteps echoed down the corridor — closely followed by another.

Ron.

Ron had the letter.

A/N: Oh snaaaap!

Cheers

xo.