Author's Note: Welcome! This came to me while… well, I don't exactly remember when it came to me, it just did.

So I did some research and, England doesn't exactly have prom, do they? They have a Leaver's Ball or Leaver's Dinner. So, I'll just go with that. Happy New Year, by the way! And Happy Belated Birthday, Lord Voldemort! Ha!

Disclaimer: I live in the southern US. I'm certainly not J.K Rowling. "They see my, Rowlin', they hatin'.

"It's like catchin' lightnin' the chances of findin' someone like you

it's one in a million the chances of feelin' the way we do

and with every step together

we just keep on getting' better

so can I have this dance? Can I have this dance?"

June 3rd, 1998. Hermione sat in her bedroom of her parents' home in Australia, taking one last glance at the walls and accommodations so she could save a memory in her head for herself. She, Ron and her parents were moving back into their quaint Brownstone in England in the morning, for Hermione had restored their memories and convinced them to leave the Land Down Under.

The Bungalow where they had been renting was very creative and beautiful, but it was clear that Jean and Gregg Granger belonged to their shared Dental practice in the U.K rather than to be Zookeepers in Melbourne.

As she stuffed her dressing gown into the beaded bag she and Ron shared, Hermione rose to leave and return to the kitchen to have lunch. Once she was there, she noticed that Ron was already sitting at the table, reading one of Gregg's books on Golf. Fascinated, Ron's eyes scattered around the pages faster than they could on a tell-all book on the Chudley Cannons.

"Hermione, darling, you've got a letter." Jean said, tossing a worn envelope onto Hermione's plate.

"Who's it from?" asked Ron, "It's got a Muggle address."

Hermione tore open the letter as she chewed her turkey. "I… I think it's from Lyssie Carter!"

"Lyssie Carter? We haven't heard from her in ages!" exclaimed Gregg as he entered the kitchen himself.

"Who is she?" Ron asked, scooting closer to Hermione to read her letter as well.

"Lyssie Carter is my childhood friend from back in Kensington. We studied every year together until I was eleven,"

"How did she know to write to you? How did she not think we'd moved then?" Jean asked.

"I told her that I was being home schooled so I could learn at my own accelerated pace, Mum. Oh, look! It's dated April 22nd of this year."

"What is it, what'd she write?"

A slow frown spread on Hermione's lips. She folded up the letter and continued eating her sandwich.

"Dear God, what'd it say?" Jean asked.

Surprisingly, Hermione began to cry, almost unnoticeably.

"It was an invitation to Prom." She squeaked.

"What's that?" muttered Ron, dumbly.

In tears, Hermione looked at him with daggers, "Prom is when all the 'sixth years' and 'seventh years' of the schools in Britain and the States dress in formal clothes, travel to a beautiful ballroom with twinkling lights and music and activities and dance."

"Hermione, you just described the Yule Ball." Ron replied.

"It's not the Yule Ball, it's exclusively only for older students and their dates to attend and it's much more anticipated and planned!" She sobbed. "And I'll never get to go!"

"You don't know that," Gregg comforted her. "When is it?"

"That's the worst part," sighed Hermione. "It was the 2nd of May, this year. The day of the Final Battle against Lord Voldemort. It's over."

July 14th, 1998.

"Ronald Bilius Weasley, why in Merlin's name am I here?" Hermione asked, aggravated.

"You'll see," he dragged her through the field behind the Burrow. "Are you wearing the dress Ginny gave you?"

Hermione rolled her eyes as she huffed and puffed "Yes, the royal blue satin one, now will you tell my what we're-"

Suddenly their troubled jog from the Burrow was forgotten and interrupted by the sight of a tent, slightly smaller than the one Bill and Fleur wed in. It was illuminated with charmed Twinkle-Pixies floating in the air.

"Oh, Ron…" Hermione gaped.

Inside was a tabled, eight chairs, and a large record player. Ginny and Harry sat at the table, Ginny in a purple dress, and Bill with Fleur, who wore a pale pink gown herself.

"Ron this is amazing. You did this all by your self?" asked an awe-struck Hermione.

"I had some help," He winked at Harry and Ginny "I'm sorry this isn't exactly the type of party you wanted, but anything to let Fleur wear a dress or to even see Ginny in one."

"Hey!" Ginny cried, throwing a cracker at his head.

Hermione looked to Ron, "Oh, but it's so much more than all that rubbish," and with that, she kissed him… full on the mouth.

Good?

The links to the dresses are on my bio page! HAPPY NEW YEAR! Yeah, 2011!