Look lady,

My pygmy puff is not hurting your so-called 'pet Hungarian horntail', which, just so you know, I haven't seen, hm, ever. Stop complaining about my pygmy puff, otherwise I'm going to start complaining to the ministry about your Hungarian horntail, understood? DON'T have a nice day.

Your lovely neighbor,

Ginny Soon-To-Be-Potter

Ginny slammed her quill down. "Take this to the ogre next door." She said to Hedwig, and the snowy owl snatched the letter Ginny had outreached in her hand, into its beak, and flew off to the left. I'm so stressed. Look at this mess. Hey, that rhymes…I want sex. HAHA, IT STILL RHYMES! Ginny laughed to herself at her own joke in her head. She looked around hers and Harry's bedroom. Harry's quidditch class plans lay sprawled on the desk, Ginny's magical iron board ironed her clothes in the middle of the room, and the big stain on the carpet stood out more than ever.

Ginny remembered how that stain had gotten there. Ron and Hermione had been over, for a flat-warming party for Harry and Ginny, and Ron had drunkenly spilled some of his Magical Margarita ("I only had one, I swear!"), leaving a big lime green spot. Hermione had scolded him, drunk too ("Ronald, I saw you chugging them like the dementors chug out other people's souls!") and the two hadn't gotten along very well the rest of the night.

Hermione.

Why had she been managing to creep into Ginny's memory again? Not that Ginny didn't remember her. She was her best friend since Ginny's fourth year, Hermione's fifth. She thought, though, that she had succeeded in not thinking about her too often, not worrying about where she was, or who she was to that day. She obviously was someone with nerve, to leave everyone without a goodbye, and never talk to them after. Now you're just getting yourself even more stressed out and angry by thinking of HER.

Ginny sighed. Harry better get home. I really could use sex right now to make me stop worrying about everything. She spotted her silk robe, the robe that meant whenever she was wearing it that she wanted it. The time was now two in the afternoon. Harry would of course notice that she was not in her usual Saturday afternoon attire, if she slinked into it before he got home, just to find her in it. So she got up and slipped it on.

"Hey GINNY? You here?" Harry called from the downstairs fifteen minutes later. Ginny had never appreciated his timing more.

"Gin?" He called out again, this time from the kitchen. Ginny came around the corner, leaning against the frame of the entrance to the kitchen, and oh-so seductively said, "Hey stranger."

Indeed there was a stranger in her kitchen, but definitely not Harry: A girl who looked not too much older than Ginny herself sat with wide brown eyes at the table, trying not to choke on her brownie from laughing, her face paling in contrast to her brown hair. Harry's bum stood out of the fridge while he was bent down, scavenging through the fridge. He turned around with a brownie in his mouth also and, unlike the unknown yet startlingly familiar girl, really did start coughing.

Harry looked at Ginny. Ginny looked at Hermione. Hermione looked back and forth between Harry and Ginny. Finally the staring contest was done, when Ginny backed up, out of the kitchen. Hurried pounds on the steps were heard and then the slam of a door. Hermione sighed. "I should go," She said. "I've already upset her enough as it is, just by coming over."

"No." Harry said quickly. "Don't. I didn't just drag you here to see her, for her to run upstairs like that." Hermione reluctantly sat back down. Harry pushed the tray of brownies towards her. "I swear there will be no more choking tonight." He said light-heartedly. She tried to smile.

"Harry?" She asked, watching his retreating body on its way upstairs.

He turned around. "Yeah?"

"Tell her I'm sorry. Because I really am."

"She knows you are." Harry said reassuringly before walking upstairs to talk to his fiancé.

Ginny felt the spot next to her on the bed cave in. "Harry…" She whined. He pulled her over to him. "Is that really her down there? At our kitchen table? Eating…brownies?" She sniffled.

Harry nodded. "It's really her."

"Why is she here?"

"I was thinking maybe you would want to see her. After all, it's only been, what, seven years?"

"Hey, I was planning on seeing her the next day after she left, but did she come back? No."

"Gin," Harry tipped her chin up so she was looking at him. "Listen. I ran into her in downtown London. She tried to get away when I told her who I was, but I followed her, and convinced her that I'm not another one of the people who pretend they're Harry Potter. We had coffee and talked- that's why I'm so late, sorry, by the way- and she asked if I could forget about the whole thing. Now, I'm willing to try. I want everyone to be willing to try, to make an effort, to forget that she ever left us-,"

"Oh yeah, like that'll happen. She's only been gone for seven years. She didn't miss anything." Ginny drawled sarcastically.

"She missed a lot, she knows that. We all know that of course. But there's a thing called catching up and she and I spent two hours of doing so back in London. She wants to start over with us, Gin, I know she does. She wants to have what she ran away from again. Without your support on welcoming her back, that won't be possible." Harry said reasonably.

Ginny hated when Harry was right. She pouted. "But I wanted sex." Harry frowned.

"Bad timing, love. Maybe later. But as for now, I need you to go down there, be the Weasley that you are- brave, merciful, and understanding- and talk to her."

"Alright. Here I go." And with that, Ginny walked out of the bedroom, down the steps, and into the kitchen.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Hermione repeated over and over again, even after ten minutes of Ginny saying "Apology accepted, Hermione!"

"Hermione, if you keep on saying that, I'll never forget that you were gone for over five years." Ginny said this time. Hermione shut up and hugged her friend again.

"You know I missed you, right, Ginny? It really was horrible when Rob and I got engaged and there was nobody to celebrate with, no best friends or anyone except my mum and my dad." Hermione said.

"You got engaged…" Ginny said.

"Oh. I can't believe I haven't told you in the…half-hour that we've been talking." Hermione said.

"You got engaged…" Ginny repeated.

"Yes, I did, actually."

Ginny let out a little squeak and smiled at the rock on Hermione's engagement finger. Harry noted that it was much like the smile he had when Hermione had told him. "That's wonderful, Hermione. Tell me about him…"

"Well his name is Rob and he's…"

Harry stopped listening to the girl's conversation to get the letter from Hedwig, who had just floated into the kitchen onto the counter.

"If it's from the crazy lady next door, tell her I'm going to send BuckBeak over there after I put ferrets in her bed. Then we'll see who's the one with the most magical creature." Ginny wittily said.

"It's not from her." Harry shook his head.

"Oh, who then?" Ginny asked curiously.

"Um…" Harry instantly recognized Ronald Weasley's handwriting.

Harry, mate, (and Ginny, if you're reading this)

Why did I ever get married to the dumbest witch of our age?

-Ron.

Harry quickly crumbled up the paper and threw it out of the open window. "Uh, nobody. Nobody sent us a letter."

"Harry, that's not possible. I just saw a letter. You seemed very engrossed in it. Who was it from?" Ginny testily asked.

"Nobody, it was just a junk letter, that's all. Crazy Daily Prophet still asking to do interviews with me, seven years after I've defeated Voldemort. They're crazy!" Harry chuckled nervously.

"You're lying, now tell me who that-,"

"SHE'S BLOODY INSANE!" Ronald Weasley half-shouted as he burst through the kitchen door loudly. Harry groaned. Ginny's eyes got wide. Hermione looked at the man, clearly puzzled as to why he too, just like Harry had, looked like she had known him for the longest half of her life. "Harry, why didn't you reply to my letter but instead threw it out the window?" Ginny now glared at her fiancé.

"I-I-I…what letter, Ron?" Harry stuttered.

"You know, the one you threw out the window, asking why-," But Ron's breath was caught in his throat and he was suddenly speechless when he saw the prettiest girl he had ever seen in his life. She reminded him of someone. Someone that was once very dear to him. "I'm-I'm sorry, I don't believe we met. I would've remembered such a pretty face." Why are you stuttering? Ron asked himself in his head.

He hadn't stuttered before around any girl. Except…

Oh no.

No. No, no, no, it can't be…she can't be…

Hermione breathed deeply, staring at the man who stood there, his hand extended for a handshake, a greeting. She knew him. Unfortunately, she concluded harshly, she knew him. She needed some time to see his face again so soon. She needed to relieve the compression that was tightening upon her stomach. She needed to get away from here as soon as she could.

Hermione quietly asked Ginny, "Ginny, dear, where's your bathroom?"

"Up the stairs, take a right, second door on your left."

And for the second time in seven years, Hermione Granger ran away from Ronald Weasley.