DISCLAIMER: Not mine, I'm just playing :P

Charlie stood, frozen to the spot, feeling Hermione's arms around him and the warmth coming from her body. She broke away quickly, embarrassed. Her face was flushed the deepest red – Weasley red, some distant, unconnected part of his brain noted with some amusement – and she didn't look him in the eyes at all. "Sorry," she muttered, and scarped off into her bedroom, shutting the door with a small click.

Charlie finally managed to unstick himself from his position in the doorway. A tiny part of his brain was proud of himself that he hadn't picked her up and kissed the living daylights out of her, like he had been wanting oh-so-badly to do. Another part of his brain was berating him for not doing the whole kissing feverishly thing. A third part had taken the time to notice how nice she smelled. However, the fourth and biggest part of his mind was beating himself up viciously, for not doing anything. He had just had the best excuse in the world ever to hug her. Yes, she had a boyfriend, and all, but it wasn't like that – it would have just been a platonic hug between friends. The type he would give his mother.

(Well, the type he would give his mother minus the sexual tension on his part, but he skipped over that.) The point was she had insinuated a hug – a hug of friendship, a hug to say thank you, whatever – and he could have just hugged her back. And he didn't. And now, it seemed, he would never have the chance to again.

He sighed, and decided that he would prepare a vegetable lasagne for dinner, after he had changed out of his work robes, and had a quick shower. It was going to be an embarrassing evening, what with Hermione seeming to be not speaking to him at all. He realised in resignation that he must have seemed rather rude to her – staring down at her with a look of shock – almost horror - on his face. Not exactly what a girl would want to see. He added that to his mental list of things to kick, punch and otherwise physically maim himself for.

Hermione sat on her bed, her pulse racing and her cheeks flushed. She clenched her fists together, in an effort to stop her fingers shaking. What had she done? Everything and nothing. Why had she hugged Charlie? It was just a friendly thing . . . wasn't it? What was going on?

She took a deep breath and flopped back on her bed. Was it possible that she liked Charlie . . . just a little bit, in that way? Possibly. He was so friendly and easy to talk to. He had looked after her, yesterday, when she had had that awful concussion. His Quidditch top smelt awfully nice. He was very good-looking (not that she had been staring at him, that time when he came out of the bathroom wearing just a towel, or anything . . .). He could cook. He was every girl's dream.

He was probably taken. She knew so little about him that he could have a wife and kids back in Romania, and she wouldn't be any the wiser. She highly doubted the whole married thing, but it was very likely that he had a girlfriend that she knew nothing about. What guy like him wouldn't? He could even have a boyfriend – she didn't even know that about him.

Anyway, even if he was straight and fully available, she was taken. She had a boyfriend. Her boyfriend was Charlie's younger brother. It was an impossible situation. She couldn't like him. It just wasn't allowed. She didn't like him that much anyway, did she? Or did she? It was just a crush, like when she had been a teenager. Wasn't it?

Merlin, what must he have thought of her? He probably thought she was some little tart – running around throwing herself at guys when she already had a boyfriend. And he had just stood there with a look of shock – nay, horror! – on his face. It was probably his worst nightmare come true, to be hugged by her.

God, Ginny was so much better at handling these kinds of situations. (And not only because Charlie was her brother, so any hugging would be natural and of the sibling-love kind, as opposed to the silly little girl with a crush on an unobtainable older man kind. Seriously, what was she, fourteen?) She would know what to do. Hermione could write to her . . . but then, she'd already written her one letter that day, and anyway, what would she say?

"Hi, Ginny, how're you? I'm good thanks – the only thing is I think I might be in love with your brother. No, I don't mean the one I'm going out with – I mean the second oldest, the dragon tamer, who spends most of his time in Romania, the one about whom that is virtually all I know. But of course, I can't fancy him, 'cause of the slightly major problem that I am already going out with someone – the aforementioned youngest brother. Bummer, eh? Any tips on what to do? Love, Hermione x." Uh, yeah. Maybe not.

Hermione tried to pretend that she wasn't hiding in her room for the next hour or so. . .she could probably come up with a reason for being in there if she tried, but she knew she was hiding really. She was so embarrassed. She removed Charlie's top, folded it neatly, and pulled on an old jumper that Molly had sent her two or three Christmases ago. Very softly, she opened the door and crept into Charlie's room. She placed the jumped on the foot of his bed with a note on top of it, reading simply "Thanks for everything". Then she walked into the kitchen, where Charlie was just draining some salad through a colander into the kitchen sink.

"Um . . . is there anything I can do to help?" she asked, trying not to blush red again.

"Uh," Charlie cast his eyes around the kitchen. "Nah – I think I've got everything under control here. But you could lay the table, if you wanted."

"Of course," said Hermione. She walked over to the drawer and got out a couple of plates and the knives and forks. Then she poured two glasses of pumpkin juice and rearranged the vase of flowers in the middle of the table. It would have been a lot quicker to do it by magic, but it gave her something to concentrate on, other than Charlie. She was very determinedly not looking at him, something he noticed with regret.

Dinner itself was a fairly strained and awkward affair – their conversation about the weather could only be dragged out for about five minutes, even if they were British. After that, they sat in near silence for the rest of the meal.

She offered to clear up after the meal, and there was much conversation of the "I'll do it," "No, you cooked," "Honestly, I insist!" type, but eventually everything was clean and back in its proper place, and they adjourned to the lounge. An owl had arrived earlier for Hermione containing a copy of the notes and other things that she had missed today from Isabelle and Coralie, and she was anxious to go over these, so she wouldn't fall behind, and Charlie had quite a bit of paperwork from the reserve to fill in.

After about an hour or so of working, Charlie let out a low groan. "You alright?" Hermione asked, looking up.

"All this paperwork," he replied, exasperated. "You'd think it was OK just for the reserve workers to sign to say we were bringing three Swedish Short Snout's into the country, but apparently we need a Ministry official to sign too – and not any old Ministry official – it has to be a person specializing in magical creatures from the Law Enforcement department. It's all a bit ridiculous, you know?"

"Give it here," said Hermione, holding out her hands for the papers.

"Huh?" asked Charlie, confused.

"I'm a member of the Law Enforcement department . . . well, I'm a trainee, anyway, but as long as it doesn't say anywhere that trainees can't sign, we should be OK, and I specialise in magical creatures. Give me the papers, and I'll sign them," she said. He didn't move. "Either I'll sign them now, and you can have them for tomorrow, or you can send them off to the Ministry and wait two weeks at the very earliest for someone else to sign them and whatnot."

"I'll take the first option, thanks," he said, handing over the papers. "Just here, here, and over there, please," he added, pointing out the various places that he needed her to sign. She signed where he indicated, her quill making scratching sounds on the parchment. "Are you sure this is completely legal?" he couldn't help adding. "I mean, I wouldn't want you to lose your job over this. And I'm quite fond of my own position, too," he joked.

She pulled a face. "Well, technically it doesn't say anywhere that trainees or students or whatever can't sign, but I guess strictly it's not legal. It's one of those things that isn't written down as being against the law, but everyone kind of knows that it is anyway, if you get my drift?" Charlie nodded. "However, I know you, and I know that you'll have prepared everything as it should be prepared with regards to bringing in the dragons, and also that you're not going to be smuggling anything in illegally, so it's not like you're some dodgy dealer in a pub or whatever. And, like I said, if you were to send it off, it'd take at least a fortnight to get back to you, so I might as well do it – we'll be saving someone some time . . . " She trailed off.

"But I won't go round advertising that it was you who signed," he said.

"That's probably very wise. And if they do investigate, we'll hold our hands up and say that we're very sorry and all the rest of it, that we didn't know I wasn't allowed to, and so on, but at the same time point out that it doesn't say anywhere that it's illegal," Hermione said, handing Charlie back the papers.

"Ta," he said. "And that sounds like a plan to me!" She smiled, thankful that they both seemed to have forgotten about the evening's earlier events. "So . . . you said you were going to specialize in magical creatures?" he asked, curious.

"Yes," she replied, her eyes lighting up. "Basically, you can do the basic law degree – well, obviously you kind of have to, if you want to work for Law Enforcement – and if you want to, you can choose to do an extra specialism in a particular subject area. Not many people choose to, 'cause it's a lot of extra work, but it means that there are more opportunities further up the career ladder – more doors open for you, so to speak – but for me, the main reason for choosing Magical Creatures was that I believe it's important to give creatures like house elves a voice!"

"Yes – Ron told me you were interested in improving the working conditions for them, or something?" Charlie asked, curiously. He wondered what had gotten Hermione so worked up – she was positively bursting with energy throughout her short speech.

"Yes – S.P.E.W.," she replied. "I want to make it so that house elves have sick-pay, holiday leave, maternity cover, all the kind of stuff we take for granted. Merlin knows – actual wages would be a start! Honestly – wizards can be very hypocritical about these sorts of things," she said, looking at Charlie seriously.

"What sorts of things?" he asked.

"Well, they all think that the African Slave trade – you know, taking innocent people from Africa and making them work in the cotton plantations of the Americas and so on – was a terrible, terrible thing – which of course, it was – but they believe it is a sign of how backward and unfair and cruel muggles can be. And of course, it is unfair and cruel – I'm not taking that away, at all – but I cannot see how they can criticise muggles for being pro-slavery when that's what wizards are doing with house elves – they're treating them as slaves!"

"Well, now, come on, that's a bit . . . extreme, isn't it?" Charlie asked, cautiously.

"Charlie, if someone is working for no pay, what does that make them?" Hermione shot back. Charlie half-nodded, and gave a small smile.

"You're right," he said. "Of course." She grinned.

"And don't you forget it, Charles Weasley," she said jokingly. "Anyway, so originally I was just going to protest on behalf of house elves, but then I started reading some stuff on other non-wizard magical beings – you know, merpeople, pixies, goblins and the like – and I started to realise just how badly they have been treated by wizards over the years. Not that they're entirely innocent of any wrongdoing, but the point is, generally, wizards are worse to them than they are to us. So, I think it's about time we all started to work in harmony with each other, and I intend upon making that happen!"

Charlie was, frankly, amazed. Hermione Granger was going to change the world – he knew it. Not just with her opinions – though they were contentious enough to spark heated debate amongst many who dwelt in the wizarding world – but because he was sure that if anyone could take her arguments and make them become a reality, she could. She seemed so . . . so passionate about what she was saying – like she truly believed it, and it wasn't just some act. "I guess it's never been more obvious to me that you're muggle-born, Hermione," he said to her.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Hermione asked, stiffening. She wasn't sure whether she had just been insulted or complimented, or neither.

"I just meant that no pure-blood or half-blood or whatever, who had grown up in a magical family, would have the same thoughts as you. We all just accept things the way they are already . . . which isn't necessarily a good thing. It takes someone like you, who has grown up in a non-magical household, to see things differently – as they really are – and try to change that," he said. "I reckon you'll get a lot of respect for that. At least, from the people who matter."

"Thanks, Charlie," she said. "You know, you're the first person to agree with me, properly. I manage to argue Harry, Ginny and Bill round, and I think I'm nearly there with Percy, but Ron still thinks I'm mad." She shook her head, sadly.

"More fool him, then," Charlie replied, shortly. He was jealous of Ron, who, in having Hermione had everything that he, Charlie, wanted, and yet seemed unable to appreciate it. However, he felt that expressing this opinion to Hermione might (justifiably) alarm her, as it made him seem like a freakish stalker and pervert. "Anyway, I don't know about you, but I'm off to my bed, now!" It was late and he was tired, and it wasn't exactly wise to be sleepy and not quite with it around a bunch of dragons.

"Me, too," said Hermione, before turning a most spectacular shade of crimson.

"Well, the idea of a beautiful young woman such as yourself in my bed gives me immense pleasure," he said, keeping his tone of voice light and jocular, "but I fear that Ron might have something to say about it, so perhaps it is not such a good idea, after all."

"No, p-probably not!" she squeaked, still blushing furiously. Why oh why oh why oh why did she always end up saying the wrong thing around him? She couldn't seem to go a day without seeming to make a comment that was laced with some sexual innuendo or another – and it always seemed to happen around him! She never had this trouble when she was conversing with Bill, or Percy, or George, or Harry – or any other male friends. Why did it have to happen when she was with Charlie? She mentally cursed herself over and over again.

"I don't mind hanging around for a bit whilst you use the bathroom to have a shower, or whatever," Charlie said.

After much "Oh, no, I couldn't"-ing and "Now really, I insist"-ing, they both used the bathroom and retired to their rooms. Charlie folded his clothes and drew the curtains in his own room, before picking up his neatly folded Quidditch top, and placing it in his wardrobe. He noticed a piece of paper that had fluttered to the floor, and picked it up. Three words - "Thanks for everything" – were written in Hermione's hand. He stared at it for longer than was necessary, then carefully placed it in a wooden box that he dragged out from under his bed. The box was slightly bigger than a shoebox, and contained many letters and photographs of his family and friends that he had received over the years.

It's not like he was a stalker for doing it. Keeping a note that had three words on it, from a girl he was never going to get. Well, maybe he was . . . just a little bit. Hah – there was no "maybe" about it – he definitely was. Damn, she was cute when she blushed! He needed to stop thinking about her. Keeping the note wasn't going to help that plan, though. Maybe, just maybe, on some spiritual level, though, it made up for the fact that he had frozen, earlier, when she hugged him. Oh, shut it! What a load of dragon dung! Of course it bloody wouldn't. But still, he didn't think he was a stalker. He didn't know how he would survive, when she kept accidentally making comments like the one she had made earlier about wanting to get into his bed. On a purely innocent level, of course. Gah – he couldn't do anything with her. He would corrupt her! No – she was too clever to let anyone corrupt her. He really needed to stop thinking about her.

He made himself recite the alphabet backwards, over and over, until he eventually fell asleep, his thoughts still as jumbled as they had been before, and his dreams peppered with house elves, goblins, Hermione and Bill's face, frowning and saying "No!" repeatedly. And really, it didn't matter that he didn't take Divination, because he had no trouble, come morning, divining what the last image meant.

Saturday, 6th October

Hey Hermione!

Sorry it took me so long to reply – I've been really busy training and whatnot and I'm a really pathetic friend for not writing back sooner, I'm really sorry, grovel, grovel, please forgive me?

You have? Good. 'Cause just you wait until you hear (should that be read? Hmm. Anyway!) what I've got to tell you! Basically, you know I told you about how there was a thing going on between George and Katie Bell? Well, a thing basically translates as not much at all, except she's had a crush on him for ages, and there was a slight possibility that he liked her back. Well, OK, a big possibility that he liked her back. But that's as far as anyone thought it went.

Anyway, on Wednesday Angelina Johnson fell off her broom and broke her ankle. It was healed pretty quickly, but she got the rest of the day, and Thursday off to recuperate, to make sure it was properly healed and everything. ANYWAY, she decided to go back home and spend some time with Joe Connon, her boyfriend (you wouldn't know him), and she ended up going for a meal with Joe and a load of old friends from school – well, that was the plan, but in the end, only George and Katie could come.

(You may start to see where I am going with this!)

I think they went to Hogsmeade, or somewhere, and, after the meal, Angelina and Joe went for a "walk". (They're not fooling me with this walk business, but the point is, George and Katie were alone.) And they came back from their . . . um . . . amble, and (in Angelina's own words) "George and Katie had their tongues so far down each other's throats, one can only hope that they enjoy the taste of liver".

Apparently, George and Katie have been dating in secret for three months, now!!

I think I will give you some space to get over that:

.

I hope that that was enough space, because it gets better! I've just had a floo conversation with Mum, and she says that George brought Katie round on Friday night, and they and Mum and Dad had a meal together, so they could get to know each other. And, apparently, she is a very nice girl, and George seems totally enamoured of her. In case you hadn't already worked it out, that's Mum's words, not mine.

So yeah, basically that's all the gossip from the Weasley household at the moment. And very exciting it is too. By the way, don't tell Charlie. On second thoughts, do what ever you want with Charlie. Oo-er. Perhaps not. Just . . . yeah, I don't really see the point in trying to keep this a secret for much longer,' cause Dad's planning a big celebration for Mum's birthday at the end of the month, and he's told George to bring her along.

Anyway, what've you been up to? (Apart from the whole concussion thing, of course.) By the way – if you haven't already killed dear Ronald for that, please do me the honour of letting me know the place, date and time etc, so I can be present and assist you. Not that you need assistance, or anything, I would just rather like to participate. Thank you. But seriously – I hope you're feeling much better now.

You are right (of course): we do need to meet up. Soon. However, I assume you're going to the Ministry ball, on Friday 19th October? Well, I am too (Harry asked me as his date), and I need a dress. And I have a vague recollection of a previous letter from you, saying that you needed a dress. So, how about we go shopping next Saturday (13th) and also grab a coffee and whatnot, so we can chat and catch up. I have the whole of Saturday free, but not Sunday, so I'll arrange portkeys and everything, if that's OK with you.

Have to go now – hopefully I'll see you on Saturday. Hope Ron isn't being too much of a pain in the ass (or Charlie, for that matter – he has an absolutely appalling sense of humour which can really get on one's nerves). Don't kill either of them – I don't know what I'd do if you went to Azkaban.

Lots of love

Ginny xoxo

Tuesday 9th October

Gin,

Saturday is fine. Come to my flat, and we'll go to Diagon Alley or wherever from there. Am fine – concussion was better by the Monday. Have not killed Ron yet. Actually agreed to go to ball with him, 'cause he was v. sweet when he asked me. Will tell you when see you. Have no time to write anything else, although have lots to say, as am snowed under with work, and am not going to have the chance to do much at weekend, due to shopping etc, so must get it done now. And Charlie is all but dragging me to table to eat as I write. So must go. See you Sat.

Hermione x

"Gin, would you mind coming to give me a hand with the zip on this?" Hermione called across the curtain of her small dressing room.

"Yeah, sure," Ginny replied. "Can I come in?"

"Feel free," said Hermione, then gaped slightly as Ginny pulled back the curtain. "Wow! You look amazing!" she said.

"You like it?" asked Ginny, trying to sound casual, but a small grin was making it's way across her face. Ginny was wearing a strapless chocolate-brown dress, made of silk, with sequin details all over the bodice. The colour looked lovely with her hair, and fitted perfectly on her Quidditch toned body.

"Gin, you are going to have all the guys hating you and all the girls hating you also. Well, the girls will definitely hate you, for looking so fabulous, but the boys will probably just end up hating Harry, for daring to be engaged to you," replied Hermione.

Ginny laughed. "I'm glad you think it's nice," she said. "It's the one I'm planning on getting. And you don't look too bad yourself!" She finished zipping Hermione into her dress, and stood back. "In fact, Mione, you look downright stunning!"

Hermione blushed and smiled. Her dress was a beautiful red colour, with a plunging neckline and a skirt that finished on her knees, with an inch of so of black netting underneath. It clung to the her body, emphasizing her curves and making her look taller than she was, a fact she loved. "Thanks, Ginny. I think I've found my dress, too," she said.

And so, half an hour later, and after eleven shops and over thirty dresses between them, Hermione and Ginny sat down in a small café, on the outskirts of Diagon Alley, with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate in front of them, and two bags, each containing a stunning dress beside them.

"So, tell me about the wedding, and everything," Hermione said, expectantly, taking a big sip of her drink.

"Well, we haven't set a date yet," began Ginny. "But we're thinking early May, 'cause a springtime wedding would be really nice, I think." Hermione nodded. "And I suggested that we have it in the garden of the Burrow, like Bill and Fleur did, but Harry just smiled and said 'well, we'll have to wait and see' when I said that, though, so I think he has something up his sleeve."

"What, he's going to come up with somewhere else for you to get married at?" Hermione asked.

"It seems so. But to be honest, I don't really know where. I mean, we can't exactly have it at a church, or another muggle place, 'cause of all of us witches and wizardsa around, and I hardly think he had happy memories of his Aunt and Uncle's place. There's always number 12, Grimmauld Place, I guess," Ginny replied.

"Yes – I can see that," Hermione said, sarcastically. "Do you, Ginevra Molly Wealsey, take Harry James Potter to be your lawful wedded MUDBLOODS! BLOOD TRAITORS! GETTING MARRIED IN THE NOBLE HOUSE OF BLACK! HOW DARE THEY!" she quipped.

Ginny laughed. "Yeah, exactly. Not at my wedding!" she said. "Anyway – enough about me! Tell me about you – you said Ron asked you to the ball?"

"Yeah – he was really sweet about it, actually. He was really apologetic about giving me a concussion, and he brought me flowers. Not very nice ones – you know, the type that only a bloke buys – but still, it was a nice gesture. Then he asked me to go to this ball with him, and I said yes," Hermione said.

"Doesn't sound like Ron," Ginny commented. "But still, it was sweet. By the way, what's this ball meant to be for?"

"Well, basically, it's just a ball for all the students in all the departments, and the younger employees of the Ministry sometimes come along as well. They hold one around this time each year, generally to raise money for some charity or another. I'm pretty sure they're raising money for a new ward in St. Mungo's this year, actually," said Hermione.

"Oh right, I see. I'll have to bring some cash then," Ginny replied. There was a small pause, then Ginny asked, "So, what's life like with Charlie?"

"Oh it's . . . it's good," said Hermione, sounding slightly doubtful.

Ginny looked puzzled. "Good? Are you sure?" she questioned.

"Well, what I mean is, Charlie's a nice person and all the rest of it – in fact, he was really lovely when he fixed me up when I had the concussion and everything – it's just . . . well me, really."

"You?" her friend asked.

"I keep saying these things – stupid little things really, but stupid little things that could be taken the wrong way, you know what I mean? Stupid little innuendos, things that you don't realise have a double meaning until it's too late. He must think I'm a total freak. I feel like a silly little teenager sometimes. And he has this thing where he makes me flirt!" she finished, sounding slightly outraged.

Ginny was confused. "He makes you flirt?" she asked.

"Yeah – he has this . . . I don't know this thing about him that makes me want to flirt with him! And I have a boyfriend! I just feel so girly and giggly and flirty around him though! It's ridiculous. And he flirts back sometimes. Well, I think he does. I'm not sure. It might be that I'm reading too much into it, you know? I'm so confused," Hermione sighed.

Ginny's lips twitched – a fact that did not go unnoticed by Hermione. "What?" she asked, suspiciously.

"You. You have a crush on Charlie," Ginny said. Hermione choked, spraying hot chocolate down her front. Ginny calmly waved her wand, removing the stains.

"I don't . . . I wouldn't . . . I'm not . . ." Hermione babbled, outraged to the point of incoherence.

"So you totally are, then," Ginny replied, knowingly.

"I am not in love with Charlie!" shrieked Hermione, loudly enough that a couple of other people in the small café turned to look at them. "I mean, I'm not in love with Charlie!" she hissed, more quietly.

"Me thinks she doth protest too much," said Ginny. Hermione glared at her. "Look," Ginny said. "You're not in love with him – I never said that, I just think you have a small crush on him. And there's nothing wrong with that."

"But . . . but I have a boyfriend already!" said Hermione. "And my boyfriend is Charlie's brother!"

"Yes, I know that," replied Ginny, patiently. "But listen, just because you have a boyfriend, doesn't mean that you can't still look at other guys. I'm completely in love with Harry, of course, but I can still say that I think Joe – Angelina's boyfriend – has got a gorgeous body: I mean, you should just see his abs! Anyway, I'm getting sidetracked – you can still have slight crushes on guys, even when you're married – look at Mum with Lockhart a few years ago. She blatantly had a crush on him, but that doesn't mean she was ever, ever in a million years going to leave Dad for him. As long as you're just flirting a bit with Charlie, there's no harm done, is there?"

"Well. . ." Hermione said, doubtfully.

"Look, you've been going out with Ron for a couple of years now, and during that time you've never looked twice at another guy, right?" Hermione nodded. "Now, all of a sudden, you've got a guy, who some would say is rather good-looking, though I prefer not to think of my brothers that way, living in your house with you. You see him more often and more intimately – like first thing in the morning, and when he comes out of the shower without a top on, or whatever – than you see your boyfriend. I think it's only natural that you have a slight crush on him, and maybe flirt a bit. But as long as you don't do anything about it – you know, jump into bed with him or whatever – and I know that Charlie would never do anything to you, especially not whilst you had a boyfriend, nothing bad is going to come of it. If anything, the flirting will keep you in shape in the romance department for when you see Ron," Ginny said, with a wink.

"I suppose," Hermione replied, a few traces of doubt still lingering in her voice.

"Hermione, you look as though you've stolen a Firebolt or something," Ginny said, sounding slightly exasperated. "You're not a slut; you've just got a slight crush on someone. You'll be over him in a month or so. It's OK – you're not going to get thrown into Azkaban, or anything."

Hermione gave a small laugh. "Yeah, you're right, Gin," she said.

"Of course I am," replied Ginny, with a smile. "And anyway – you know what boys are like – totally oblivious. Charlie probably doesn't realise that you're even flirting with him. And Ron would only notice if you and Charlie started having sex in front of him, or something."

"Oh, God, Ginny, that's disgusting!" Hermione said, laughing at her friend.

Ginny looked slightly horrified at what she'd just said. "Yes, it is rather. Urgh – what a revolting image! Get out of my brain!"

They finished their drinks, then Ginny announced that she had to be going, as her Portkey left in ten minutes.

"Give me your dress, then," said Hermione. "I'll take it back to my flat and hang it up in the wardrobe. You're going to come back to mine on Friday and we'll get ready for the ball together."

"I am?" Ginny asked.

"You are. We can do each other's hair and make-up and what have you," Hermione replied. "Treat each other like Barbies."

"What are Barbies?" asked Ginny.

"Muggle thing, it doesn't matter," replied Hermione. "But you'll come, won't you?"

"Of course – what kind of time should I be there?" queried Ginny.

"Well, I get let out at four, but I usually stay for another hour or so after that, but I don't think I will on Friday. So, come along to mine at about four o'clock?" she asked.

"Sound's good!" said Ginny. "I look forward to it. Now, I really have to go." She picked up her handbag, gave Hermione a quick hug, and apparated away. Hermione picked up her own belongings, including Ginny's dress, and apparated away also, to her flat. She couldn't wait until Friday.

Hey guys! Sorry about the slight wait – I was enjoying the two days of summery weather we have had in GB so far this year. :S They were fun whilst they lasted . . . Anyway, once the rain started up again, I was distracted from writing by going e-shopping for Ginny and Hermione's dresses – if you're interested, I have linked them into my profile! Thanks again for the lovely reviews :D x