4. Don't curse or hex other wizards who are less skilled than yourself to show off your competence.

While it may sound amusing to encumber a near-Squib with antlers or a pig's tail, all witches will recognize and recoil from your cruel streak. Although you may be entitled to a bit of pride now and then, don't act like Mr. Big-Man Hot-Shot all the time. And even though most girls value a little chivalry, don't imply that she isn't capable of caring for herself either. A woman will prefer a compassionate, humble man who will take care of her and others around her.

+++
Ronald's Tip: Don't brag about the size and/or strength of your wand. If you can't conjure a bouquet of flowers, chances are few witches will care if you're carrying a 13" oak wand with a chimera hair core.

Monday, December 2002

"Ollivander's Annual Wand Check!"

It had become a mandatory thing for the Ministry's entire staff. Once every year, old Mr. Ollivander would schedule a week to set himself up in the Atrium to check the performance of everyone's wands.

Hermione had insisted that I polish my wand this time, but I forgot to do it last night so I spent ten minutes this morning feverishly wiping it down with polish while Hermione looked on disapprovingly. I'd also forgotten my coffee, and I was now in a rather irritable mood.

"I don't see why you're being so titchy," Hermione sniffed as we Flooed in. "It's your fault you forgot."

"Can I just have a sip of your coffee?" I grumbled, reaching for the cup she held in her hand.

"No," she said, holding it out of my reach and sticking her tongue at me.

"Immature," I muttered.

"Hypocrite," she replied.

It was relatively early, so the line wasn't terribly long. We got in line behind a weary-looking couple, her sipping her coffee while I tapped my toes and pretended to look groggy even though I was really scheming to steal the coffee.

But just then, a brawny, swaggering man stepped up behind us, completely ruining any chances I had of making this day any better.

It was Cormac McLaggen.

"Weasley," he said in his loud, booming voice – no different from the last time I'd seen him – and clapped me on the back.

"McLaggen," I choked out, for once glad that I didn't have a cup of coffee in my hand.

"Fancy seeing you here," he said with a grin. There was petite blonde girl standing next to him – his girlfriend, I presumed, since there was no ring. She looked like a ditz.

"Hey, and who's this?" he said, noticing Hermione and blatantly looking her up and down while his girlfriend looked on. She didn't seem to mind, but I was starting to question her awareness of her immediate surroundings.

"Hello, Cormac," Hermione said politely, smiling at him.

"I know you two've met," I said, trying to keep from gritting my teeth, and made the obvious movement of putting my arm around her waist and pulling her closer to me. "This is Hermione Weasley, my wife," I said, clearly emphasizing 'Weasley' and 'wife.'

He didn't get the message.

"You remember when we went out a couple years ago?" he asked Hermione, grinning widely. "Christmas party, back in Hogwarts. Merlin, that was wild. Oh, and this is Lillian," he said almost as an afterthought, waving his hand in the blonde girl's general direction. She was too busy twirling her hair around her finger to notice.

"So you've been to these things before?" McLaggen went on, gesturing toward Ollivander's banner.

"Every year," I answered quickly, wishing Ollivander would hurry up with the people in front of us.

"This is my first," McLaggen informed me. "Check this beauty out," he added, proudly fishing his wand out from his robes. "Oak and dragon heartstring, 14 and a half inches." He waved it around under my nose, then displayed its smooth length to Hermione.

"Very macho," Hermione nodded, a smile playing on her lips.

I was saved from spitting out a rejoinder I probably would've regretted as Ollivander dismissed the witch before me and beckoned me forward.

I handed the old man my wand and kept my mouth shut, afraid that I'd say something moronic if I didn't.

"Ash and unicorn tail hair," Ollivander was saying, inspecting my wand through squinted eyes. "14 inches."

He turned it around in his hands a few times, muttering to himself, and then handed it back to me. "Some flowers for the fair maiden, if you will," he said, nodding at Hermione.

I complied, conjuring a bouquet of roses with a small flourish. Determinedly keeping McLaggen out of my line of sight, I gallantly offered the flowers to Hermione. She smiled as she accepted them, and then presented me with her coffee before she stepped forward. I took it happily.

After Hermione was finished we headed for the lifts; I dragged my feet and walked as slowly as possible, glancing back at McLaggen. I was secretly hoping he'd end up conjuring a bucket of bogies or something, but when his wand-flourishing produced a single, wilted hornwort for Lillian, I sprinted into the open lift where Hermione was waiting impatiently and then burst out laughing. She shook her head disapprovingly as we lurched upward, but she was unable to keep the smirk off her face.

"A hornwort," I gasped, clutching my chest in mock horror. "Did you see that? And he was so proud of his dragon heartstring wand, too."

"See, it's a good thing you didn't haul off and punch him," Hermione said knowingly. She raised the roses to her face and breathed in deeply. "These smell wonderful."

"I always thought he was a dimwit," I said smugly.

"Besides," Hermione added, kissing me on the cheek, "I like unicorns better than dragons."
+++