"Hermione! Somebody's on the telephone for you! Says his name is Mr. Brett. I think he works for the muggle ministry. Should I say you're busy?" yelled Oliver.

"No thanks, I'll get it in here. You can hang up now"

Of course it did take Oliver over 2 minutes to actually hang up. He was hopeless with muggle technology. Hermione was still proud that he knew to call it a telephone.

"Hello?"

"Ms. Granger, this is Mr. Brett. I work with the Department for Transport in London. I was told to call you. You see, we have heard rumors all day of some sort of altered car driving downtown. I'm not really sure why, but I was given your number and told you could help. Can you?"

"Well Mr. Brett, you haven't really explained the situation yet…" Hermione paused but Mr. Brett offered no answer, so she continued. "I'll do the best I can. Where are you?"

"I'm in my office, but the location of the car in question is a little foggy. Last I heard someone thought they saw it flying over the Tower. Obviously the credibility of that report must be lacking."

Hermione managed a natural laugh on the phone, "Of course, flying cars are rather hard to catch. I heard it took them over two weeks to corner Chitty Chitty Bang Bang!"

Her humor was lost on the muggle and after a moment of awkward silence, he wished her good luck. "And please keep my office informed of the measures you plan on taking."

"I will. Thank you." Hermione hung up the phone and finished getting dressed.

But as she buttoned her top, she thought of the only flying car she had ever heard of in the wizarding world: the Weasleys'. Suddenly dreading her assignment, she stalled as long as she could in the bathroom. Taking a second in the mirror, she applied the only makeup she owned—some brown mascara. Just in case. Not that she cared what he thought of him. She was over him. Completely.

Even her inner monologue had to roll its eyes.

-------------------

10 minutes later and Hermione was standing next to a 1968 Fiat 125: silver exterior, white tires, leather interior, a broken side view mirror, and a flaming redhead in the front seat.

George Weasley obviously spent his hard-earned money wisely.

"Hermione! What a pleasant surprise! And what brings your charming self to my humble company?"

"George, you flew a car upside-down, nearly taking out 3 streetlamps and clipping a double-decker. Did you really think no one would notice?"

"Alright, you've caught me. I just can't stand to be without you. My love drunk mind figured that this was the best way to find myself in your presence," George said while batting his eyes furiously in an attempt to make Hermione smile.

And he succeeded. Her serious work face melted into a reluctant smile.

"And that is what I came for. What do I owe the Ministry this time?" George asked.

"50 Galleons, as well as paying for damage to muggle property, and 20 hours of donated time towards the Ministry," Hermione recited off her clipboard.

"Merlin! Not even going to cut me a break are you? Ok, I agree if I can see your shining face at the Burrow for dinner one of these days. I know for a fact mum has been owling you and Wood about this for weeks."

"We'll see about that. Sign here George and drive carefully next time."

"I promise nothing," smirked George as he drove away, his exhaust expelling a sea of bubbles.

Hermione sighed and walked back to the apperating point. When she got there however, she decided to walk back to her flat. She was tired and wanted a few minutes to herself.

There was no way she was going to the Burrow. She loved the Weasley family, but was left with confusing feelings whenever she met one of their number.

Before her mind had cleared, her feet stopped and brought her to her own door. Slightly startled, she shook her head and opened the door.

"Olive! You here?"

"Yeah just a second, I'm sending off an owl."

Hermione sat down and picked up the forms for the trip she just made with George. Why he felt he needed to create more work for her, she had no idea.

Hermione bit her lip and scribbled some notes on the paper she had in front of her.

"I just owled the Weaslys. They asked if we could stop in for dinner this weekend."

"Oh I ca…"

"And before you say you can't, you should know that I already checked your time notebook and asked your boss if you could have this weekend off."

Hermione was shocked. One part of her brain was slightly impressed that Oliver had made a concrete decision so quickly and been so thorough in the follow through. Another part was screaming that the Weasly house was the last place she wanted to be. A rather stubborn part insisted that she didn't care at all and would love to see the Weaslys. And a very small part in the back was planning an outfit that would make her more attractive than she normally was. This was also the part of her mind that created all those nagging self-doubts.

-------------------

Hermione sat in the Great Hall surrounded with books and a plate of toast. Even with all her books, she couldn't focus her eyes on a book, a rare occasion. Her hair was in a rat's nest after numerous attacks from her quills and her hands fiddled with the fork next to her plate. A swift but light punch was directed at her arm.

"Hey Mione. Trying to memorize the books before classes start? Are you going to eat that?" Ron gestured at her uneaten toast. Before she could answer, he had snatched it up and swallowed it in a moment.

"Yeah, go ahead," she mumbled without lifting her eyes.

"Hello? No snarky comeback? Did you get an E on a test? Yeah, I wouldn't be eating either if I were you," Ron's attempt at a joke earned a small grunt from the bushy haired girl he was sitting next to.

"Worse, huh? Too bad." Ron turned to look directly at Hermione who didn't turn towards him. "Are you alright? Is this about when I hung out with Lavender even though we had plans? Because I asked you and you said it was fine."

"No, it's just me being dumb."

"I didn't think that was possible," Ron half smiled as he tried again to make Hermione smile. And again he was met with a scowl.

"Hilarious. Never mind. It's not important." Hermione made a halfhearted effort to gather her books but stopped when she felt Ron staring at her sternly.

"You aren't reading. This is obviously serious." Ron's eyes widened as he saw her necklace. Or rather, where her necklace used to be. "Mione, did you lose your locket? Is that what this is about?" Ron knew that Dean had gotten that as a gift for their one-year anniversary.

Hermione's hand flew to where the locket normally sat. "No, I just left it in the common room today. I didn't feel like wearing it…" she trailed off, not know what to say or whether she should give a reason. The two sat in silence as a few wandering students strolled around them. Summoning all her courage, Hermione voiced the thought she had been repressing for weeks. "Ron, I think Dean likes someone else but he won't admit it." Her voice came out in a rush and afterwards she looked at Ron for confirmation or comfort.

Unfortunately, Ron was oblivious and just sat there thinking over this information.

"I mean, he has been spending all this time with Padma and when I went to his room the other day her earrings were sitting there and he said she had just been napping there…" She was again met with silence. "Padma's really pretty too. Her hair probably doesn't need two hours of attention to calm down. And she really does have perfect skin. And big eyes. If I were a boy, I would like her more than me." Hermione hit rock bottom with this realization. Thankfully, Ron finally woke up from his daze.

"Stop it Hermione. You are definitely at least an 8." Ron was referring to rating things on a 1-10 scale. The two often did it with classes, dinners, books (Ron would get the plot notes from someone else). It was Hermione's turn to be speechless. No one, not even Dean, had ever referred to her as even remotely beautiful. And even though he hadn't actually used the word, Hermione felt equally dazed. Smiling, she decided to drop her problems for now. "And Lav lav, she would be?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

"Really Hermione, you should know that I will only associate myself with the very best," Ron said as he stood up from the table and winked at her. Her problem wasn't exactly solved, but it had been pushed back in her mind for another day.