Okay, I'm not getting as many reviews as I want, and I'm not trying to sound like an obsessed freak, but if you guys have any, any criticism at all, please tell me. I want to be able to make my writing better. :

Chapter Five-

Hermione sighed wiped away the constant tears rolling down her cheeks, trying hard to clear her mind of all thoughts—especially thoughts connected with the events which had gone on in the last four hours.

The dinner had gone worse than she had imagined. Not that Hermione had high hopes for the dinner anyways, but never, would she have imagined matters to go this far. Never.

- - - - - -

"I don't think I like this!" Becca said nervously, eyeing herself in the mirror, "Curls don't look good on me! Maybe we should straighten my hair."

Hermione sighed. "Becca, we've straightened, then curled, then straightened, then curled you hair again. Honestly, you'll have lost all your hair by thirty-two."

"Yeah," Becca said, twiddling her thumbs and still staring at herself in the mirror, "But…"

"You look fine," Hermione said, "You look good. Mr.-Blind-Date will be knocked off his feet." She sent Becca an encouraging smile.

"But…But 'Mione," Becca said, "What am I supposed to say to him? I've—I've got nothing! And I don't work well under pressure; I won't be able to make up anything on the spot!"

"You're asking me," Hermione said, shooting Becca a thin smile. Becca whined.

"You have nothing?" she asked, "No advice?"

"How would I know?"

"Haven't you ever had a boyfriend?" Becca said, applying a maroon colored lipstick to her bottom lip.

Hermione paused for a second. "No," she lied, "No—I haven't."

Ron came barricading into the restaurant just then, his face flushed with a triumphant grin. He handed Becca a bouquet of flowers.

"Are these good?" he asked, "There was only one florist in all of New York City that had these."

Becca scrunched her nose. "I said I wanted white. These red ones clash with my dress."

Ron sent her a death glare. "B-But these are good too!" Becca said quickly, dropping them on the table. She eyed Ron. "Are you wearing that to dinner?"

Ron eyed his casual jeans and top and then eyed them both slowly. "Er, Hermione," he said slowly, "Can I talk to you."

And he took her arm and dragged to her to a corner of the restaurant.

"Wait," Hermione said, before Ron could begin talking, "I have to ask you something first. About James."

"What?"

Hermione took a deep breath. "Okay, er, I didn't want to bring this up, but…does James remind you of someone?"

Ron's jaw dropped open. "You see it too?"

"Yeah!" Hermione exclaimed, "Do you think he could be…"

Ron shrugged. "I dunno, I mean—he doesn't have brown eyes."

"Yeah, and—wait," Hermione paused, "Brown eyes?"

"Yeah," Ron said, "He reminds you of Neville…right?"

Hermione stared at him. "Er, yeah, right," she lied, "Neville." She paused and brushed away a strand of hair from her eyes. "What did you have to say?

"Well…you remember Louis, right?" he asked, "From our morning classes?"

Hermione nodded. "Yeah—the blondie?"

"Yeah," Ron said, flashing another smile, "Well she's just asked me to the movies!"

"Er, that's great Ron," Hermione said slowly, "Have you ever…been to the movies?"

Ron paused. "Well, no. But there's always a first time, right?"

"I suppose," Hermione said slowly, "But can we talk about this later? It's almost eight and—"

"Well," Ron said, shuffling his feet, "That's actually what I came to say. I, er—the date's tonight. Right now."

"Right now?" Hermione repeated, staring at him.

"Er, yeah, Louis is actually waiting outside." Ron eyed his feet.

"What? No, Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, "This whole dinner was your idea! And you're leaving me alone!"

"You have Becca!" Ron exclaimed.

"Becca!" Hermione scoffed, "Please Ron."

Ron shot her an apologizing look. "Sorry—but I have to. I'll see you later though, right?"

Hermione glared at him. "If I'm alive."

Ron grinned and patted her. "That's the spirit."

He dashed out of the resteraunt then, almost bumping into a man who, by the looks of it, seemed to be Becca's date. He noticed Hermione staring at him and flashed her a broad smile and strode over to her.

"Hello Becca," he said in a thick English accent, "I'm Josh."

"Oh," Hermione said quickly, "I'm not Becca—"

"I am," Becca said, coming to stand next to Hermione, a wide smile on her face.

Josh's smile faltered a little as he eyed Becca's figure, but he quickly redeemed himself by taking her hand and kissing it. Becca, blushing, lead him towards the table.

"Oh. I thought this was a private dinner."

Hermione spun around to be staring face to face with James. His hair was pressed down and he was wearing a fresh suit. He shot Hermione a grin which in return she sent him a scowl.

"No," Hermione said slowly, "Ron just doesn't know when to invite guests."

"Where is Ron," James said, eyeing the tables, "I don't see him."

"He's not coming," Hermione said briskly. She pointed to a seat, "That's yours."

They both sat at the table. The chatter slowly rose as Hermione's mother engaged James in a conversation while Becca talked to Josh about her summer jobs. Hermione was quiet and focused on her pasta—which was thankfully, her favorite food.

"So," James asked casually, eyeing Hermione, "How's your boyfriend?"

"I don't have one," Hermione said just as casually, taking another bite of her pasta.

"Oh," James said, "Well Ron said you used to have one, so I just—"

"Hermione?" Becca asked sounding confused, "Hermione's never had a boyfriend."

"Yes, yes she has," her mother said, taking a sip of lemonade, "Hermione had a boyfriend when she was around seventeen."

Hermione felt her heart plummet. Becca's jaw dropped and she sent Hermione an astonished stare.

"You told me you'd never had one!" Becca exclaimed, "You lied!"

Hermione felt the heat rising to her cheeks, and eyed James who was looking toying with his fork with a newfound interest.

"I—I did," Hermione said, shrugging her shoulders, "But it wasn't…it wasn't serious."

God, she wished Ron were here.

Her mother snorted. "Are you joking?" she asked, "Of course it was serious! Hermione was devastated for at least a year after! She wouldn't talk, eat, smile—it was as if she was in love with him!"

Hermione felt everyone's penetrating stares on her neck and she bit her lip down hard. She hated this. Why, why was she so constantly reminded of Harry—in a world so far away from him?

She looked around at the people at the table, waiting for a response back from her. The only one who wasn't looking at her with a curious look was James, who surprisingly, looked shocked. His eyes were open wide and his lips pressed together, and his face had gone the same color as the first day they had met.

"I…I wasn't in love," Hermione said in a small voice, eyeing her pasta, which now didn't seem so delicious. "It was…a crush. And my first…my first breakup. That was—that was all."

God, god no. Not tears. But true enough, Hermione felt them prickling around the edges of her eyes.

"Oh!" Becca exclaimed, "Is that the guy whose photo you have in your room? The one with the weird scar?"

James was now pressing flat on his hair against his forehead. Hermione felt her heart stop. It was so similar, so clear, it shouted out Har—

No. No. James had blue eyes. Blue eyes.

"Yeah," Hermione's mother said, "She went to school with him. They were best friends for seven years."

"So Josh," Hermione said suddenly, still eyeing her plate and praying that her tears wouldn't spill out of the edges, "How do you like—"

"Aww!" Becca exclaimed, "That's so cute! Why'd they break up?"

She heard James let out a tentative cough. But Hermione couldn't move—it was as if she was paralyzed. She had a brief memory of the time in second year when she had gotten paralyzed…somehow this felt much, much worse.

Hermione's mother shrugged.

"What was his name?" Becca asked, the question directed to Hermione's mother.

She took another sip of lemonade. "Harry. Harry Potter."

And that was all it took.

Suddenly the tears were spilling out and Hermione stood up, banging her fist against the table.

"Well thank you!" she exclaimed, "It was honestly great, just fabulous to spread my private life all around. So if we're done with 'share-hour' then can I please go?"

Hermione eyed James, who seemed to be staring at her with a stricken expression, and his eyes seemed to be glazed over. She sent him a small smile. "I hope you've enjoyed tonight's dinner. Gives you a great overlook on how life in our neighborhood is. Hope to see you around." She spat the last few words.

There was a stunned silence at the table.

"Hermione, dear," her mother said softly, "I didn't mean to—"

"Yeah?" she asked, grabbing her coat, "Well you did."

And she turned and stormed out of the room and out the door, walking as fast as her feet could take her. Once she was outside, and the cold New York air hit her fast she broke off in a fast pace. The tears were now streaming down her face and she was running around corners and running and then finally she dropped down onto a small patch of grass and rested her head in her hands.

She didn't just cry—she sobbed. The kind of hyperventilating-sobs in which her whole chest began to hurt and she had to gasp for air as the tears rolled down. She received a few stares from on looking pedestrians but she ignored them as she buried her face in her gloves.

She didn't know how long she cried, and she didn't care. She wished Ron were here, her father were here, anyone were hear to comfort her.

She wished Harry was here.

And that sent out a fresh peal of tears.

She felt someone come and sit down on the grass next to her and she pulled her face out of her hands to see who it was. It was James.

"If—if you've c-come to ask more questions," Hermione said, in a nasal voice, "Now's really not the time." She sniffed and wiped away another tear.

"I haven't come to ask questions," James said softly, "I've come to apologize."

Hermione stared at him. James shifted, nearer to her.

"I—I shouldn't have brought that whole thing up," he said, "I didn't know it would lead to…to…"

"That?" Hermione finished. James smiled.

"Yeah," he said, "I'm sorry."

Hermione shrugged. "It's…it's not your fault. It's, it's not anyone's."

"Not even Harry's?" James asked softly.

Hermione swallowed and eyed her thumbs. "No," she whispered, "Not even Harry's."

She looked up to see James staring at her.

"I know you said not to ask questions now," he said, in an equally soft voice, "But I have to ask one. What—what happened between you two?"

Hermione sighed. After a long moment she said, "Guess he just got tired of me."

There was another long silence. A nearby streetlight flickered violently and the night slowly got quieter as the number of cars passing by on the streets reduced.

Hermione finally eyed James to see him staring off into the night sky, and odd look across his face. She couldn't tell if it was boredom, amusement, or sorrow—but whatever it was, she was oddly glad that he was here.

"We should probably go," she said softly, standing up, "It's getting late."

James stood up with her, and grabbed his coat from the grass. He eyed Hermione as he stood up.

"You have a huge grass stain on your dress," he informed her, in a much lighter tone. Hermione eyed back and true enough she saw a large green-brown circle.

James grinned. "How're you going to get that out?"

Hermione grinned back, with an equally mischievous grin. "Magic, of course."

The slowly began walking back home. James offered a few times to Apparate back, but Hermione declined, claiming that it felt better to be walking.

"You're insane," James declared, "It's probably thirty degrees out here."

"I never said you couldn't go," Hermione said.

"I think I will," James said.

But he didn't.

"Listen," Hermione said, after a few more minutes of silence, "Er, thank you…for tonight. And I suppose I'm the one who should be saying sorry—for being so rude."

James grinned. "It's okay. I'm not mad at you."

"Well," Hermione fidgeted, "I'm just a bit…distracted these days. And you caught me on a bad day."

"Like I said, it's—"he was cut off as a car drove through a large muddle of slosh snow, which sprayed all over him.

Hermione burst out in giggles. James stood, a frown on his face, as he wiped the wet water out of his face.

"Y-You're su-suit!" she gasped between giggles, "It's ruined! H-have fun getting out the s-stain! It'll be horrible!"

James grinned. "I'll use magic, of course."

R—E—V—I—E—W