Gambit: a remark made to open or redirect a conversation.

May 20, 2000

The Saturday night crowd packed itself into the Leaky Cauldron. Hannah was already flushed and flitting from customer to customer as if the floor were made of hot coals. Neville, who had recently and unofficially taken up a weekend shift behind the bar, was directing a symphony of bottles and dishes to serve the patrons. The pub was abuzz with activity and conversation.

All except for a small table in the middle of the bustling floor whose occupants seemed to sit in a bubble of silence, buffeted by the sea of noise on all sides.

Harry leaned back in his chair, looking around at the other pub goers with vague interest, occasionally greeting acquaintances who hailed him jovially from across the room, calling for him to join them. But every time he declined the offer politely, glancing at his companion. In the quarter of an hour since their arrival, she had sat in silence, arms folded and a tight glare directed down at untouched silverware.

But Harry knew her frosty mood was not directed at him, and perhaps that was what gave him the foolish courage to break the silence.

"You seem miffed," he observed, leaning forward to rest his forearms on the table top.

Hermione looked up at him with enough electricity in her eyes to make him wish he could reel in the comment.

"Do I?" she asked, a crackle in her voice. "I couldn't ever imagine why that might be."

She cast a withering look at the conspicuously empty third chair beside them.

"Right, why is it exactly that Ron didn't come out tonight?" Harry asked cautiously. "You haven't, you know, locked him up in the cellar or something, have you?"

Hermione laughed humorlessly. "I've just barely managed to restrain myself. No, Ron didn't come out tonight because he is the world's biggest prat, and I made it quite clear that I don't want to see or speak to him any time soon."

"You do realize that you're both supposed to be in my wedding in three weeks, right?" Harry reminded her.

Hermione bristled. "I'll go blindfolded, then. Or maybe you should consider finding yourself a new best man because your current one seems to think the establishment of marriage is an evil, corrupting entity."

"What gave you that impression?" Harry inquired, trying not to smirk.

"I don't know, perhaps his declaration that no woman in the world was worth sacrificing his freedom for," Hermione said angrily.

"Did he really say that?" Harry asked, unable to repress his snort of laughter.

"He might as well have!"

"Come on, Hermione, you don't think he really means –"

"It would be nice," Hermione interrupted, scowling at him now, "if for once, you took my side of things."

"I took your side of things last week!" Harry protested.

"Picking pubs doesn't count, Potter," she snapped. "Are all men so completely averse to solidarity to a woman? I mean, after everything we've been through, was it really so foolish of me to think we'd all stand by each other for the rest of our lives? Was I deluding myself, Harry?"

"No, of course –"

"Well you know what? He can keep his bloody options open if it's so important to him. It's not as though I'm chaining him to a rock or anything. He needn't worry about choosing me anymore."

"Hermione, don't you think you're overreact –"

"It's not like I was demanding he get down on one knee this very second, but who says things like that right in front of their girlfriend, anyway? Don't you think he was just a little bit in the wrong?"

"We've known Ron's tactless beyond hope," Harry tried to placate. "He's probably only just figured out why you're cross with him. Why don't we order? What do you think you're going to get?"

He picked up his menu and began skimming down the list of food, even though he knew it by heart.

"I wash his bloody socks for him, for Merlin's sake! The thought of living with me can't be so repulsive."

"Hey, did you hear about that new policy Shepherd's starting in the department?"

"He should try living with someone who can't even get his dishes to the sink with magic. And I know his mother didn't raise him in a pig sty."

"How about them Tornados, right? They've been having a good season lately."

"And who exactly does he think he's going be 'keeping his options open' for? Madam Rosemerta? That drummer from the Weird Sisters he's got a poster of? Honestly."

"Abort, abort. Forget I mentioned it." Harry held up his hands in a gesture of surrender under Hermione's fierce scowl.

"He's just so…" she trailed off, abruptly losing her steam as she caught sight of Harry's desperate expression. "I'm ranting, aren't I?"

"Just a little," Harry told her, relieved at the reprieve from her anger.

"Sorry," she sighed, picking up her menu and flipping through it disinterestedly. "I'll save it for Ginny."

"I'll listen to about any other rant," Harry offered. "But you know…."

"I suppose it's rather awkward being caught in the middle," Hermione said ruefully, looking as though this thought had just crossed her mind.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "You think?"

And at last she laughed with real humor. "We've been something of a handful, haven't we?"

Harry shrugged. "Yeah, you have. Especially since I've been so easy to deal with. I mean, I've put up with rather a lot over the years, don't you think?"

Hermione laughed again, reaching across the table to smack his arm affectionately. "I suppose it's silly to think, after everything, that we'd ever drift apart."

"A bit," Harry agreed. "Don't worry about Ron. He's just being thick, as usual. He'll come round."

"Of course he will," Hermione agreed, a determined glint in her eyes. "So did you really try to distract me with the Tornados' Quidditch season?..."

A/N: Can't believe I've made it to 100 chapters. My first triple digit story! :) I really love Harry and Hermione's friendship incidentally. Hope you do too! I kind of imagine them getting coffee or lunch or whatever, just the two of them once or twice a week, as Harry works with Ron every day and Ron and Hermione do, eventually, get married and live together. Anyway… review? :)