AUTHOR'S NOTE: Yolo! I'm late, I know, but that's not new. So. Can we all please stop predicting what's going to happen, and just focus on what is happening? Yes? Yes.

HAPPY WOMEN'S DAY, YOU GORGEOUS FEMALES OUT THERE!

I calculated and divided the remaining storyline, and this is how it'll be: 12 Chapters + 1 Epilogue. So. Now you know what to expect.

Side-note #1: My exams begin from this 19th, so... Expect at least two more updates till the 10th of the next month.

Side-note #2: i-heart-hogwarts on TUMBLR is me. Catch up with my fangirling on Dramione and Riverdale and The Flash and Tom Felton and Emma Watson, okay?

Side-note #3: This chapter has another part from Ginny's POV, and a flashback from her POV, too. Because I love her. There's a bit of Hinny in here, as well. For the record, I'm a Hansy fanatic – Hinny merely relinquish my Jily cravings.

Side-note #4: This is above 5K words, too, so, yay! Love me, y'all!

Thank you all so much for all the reviews and all the support. Cheers!

8: Looking For a New High

Faint murmurs of conversation are floating around. The vigour with which her head throbs is worse than any hangover that she has ever experienced before.

Wake up, her subconscious tells her, out of nowhere, and Hermione frowns.

She squirms in place, a little surprise registering to some corner of her brain when the expected softness of her bed is not what her back experiences. She is trying to wake up, she realizes, but something is…

Oh, God.

Something is not letting her! Has she been given some potion? Has she been cursed?

Fight, fight, fight, her subconscious chants on, you've got to break out of this!

Hermione listens to the voice, but fails to comply. Her body feels way too lethargic. Definitely the work of a spell, she deduces. Her high spirits―as high as they can be through the haze of the subconsciousness that she's floating in―lower.

No, you idiot, you have to wake up!

And then, the fog around her thoughts slowly begins to dissipate, and she starts to wake up. At least, her brain does. But she cannot garner enough energy to peel her eyelids back – she cannot move her hands, cannot even move her fingers.

Not a surprise, really, if she has been shot by a spell. But if that is true, why the hell can she not remember anything?

Something is awfully wrong with this situation. Well. Other than the very obvious panic in the voice of her subconscious and the supposed curse been cast upon her, that is.

"Awake yet, sleepyhead?"

Hermione jolts with that voice, her head snapping to a side. Her teeth grit together in furious exertion when she focuses on her hands, and she almost sighs in relief when feeling returns to her numb limbs.

She can at least wriggle her fingers and toes. That's an improvement. She cannot yet open her eyes, and so her brows slant further, and she focuses all her strength in straining her ears for all the sounds around her.

There is a periodic crunching sound nearby, accompanied with occasional, heavy clicking – telltale of a pair of high-heeled feet walking around.

"Come on, now," the voice says again, and Hermione jumps, realizing that the crunching is actually caused by this man's – someone that sounds way too familiar – footfalls. "Don't keep us waiting, Hermione. Get up."

Her heart comes to a halt – blood freezing in her veins.

She knows this man, alright. He is way too familiar, alright!

She tries speaking, but all that comes out is a series of coughs. She is breathless when she finishes, and, panting, she swallows past a dry throat.

What the hell has this sick bastard done to her? Why can't she―

Her thoughts are cut off when it all comes back to her. Her fight with Draco – that ever-present throbbing in her heart – her skipping office, being visited by a number of people, receiving a letter that is a threat to Draco, coming to the Ministry, and… being Stupefied.

She tries again, and this time, her eyelids finally flutter. Focussing hard, she blinks, repeatedly, and her eyes open a fraction to look at the man leaning over her face.

Her lips pull back in a sneer, a wheeze leaving her when she takes in a big inhale. "It's you," she spits out, sounding way too breathy to be able to channel all of the hatred bubbling inside of her. "What―" She cuts herself off, coughing.

He really has done something more than a mere Stupefy, because this condition of her throat is a matter of concern.

She suddenly stops – feeling all sorts of confused. She is missing something here.

When it dawns upon her, she looks back at his sinisterly smiling face with a frown. "How…" She swallows again. "How d―did you…"

"Oh!" His eyebrows hike up, an expression of satisfaction settling over his face. He gestures to someone behind Hermione's seat, and the clicking of heels grows louder. "I had help," he cheerfully declares, gathering the smiling blonde in his arms and planting a quick kiss to her lips.

Caterina looks at Hermione, smirking smugly. "Hello, Granger. I cast his spells for him, yes. Didn't see this coming, did you?" she asks, trailing a manicured fingernail along the jawline of one Ricky Rogers' face.

No, Hermione certainly hadn't.

Hermione hollered with laughter after she finished reading Cormac McLaggen's letter. She couldn't help it. His words had rekindled a memory from her Hogwarts days that she and Harry were always laughing about.

Apparently, Mister McLaggen's fate had a bad habit of playing games with him, and he'd ended up with competition on his way to a position in the Magical Sports and Equipment Department of the Ministry. Ironically, his competitor was none other than Hermione's recent ex-boyfriend – the same guy he'd competed with, and lost to, back in her sixth year at school – Ronald Weasley.

Hermione chuckled again. Cormac had mentioned, explicitly, that he wanted her to write a recommendation letter to Angelina Johnson, fiancée of George Weasley, and the Head of the Department, about Cormac, and request her to not favour her own would-be brother in-law.

She was slightly confused, too, actually, because as far as she knew, Ron hadn't been interested in settling down in London, again, anytime soon. He was very dedicated to the Cannons, and he was their star Beater. Maybe there was some confusion? Maybe it wasn't Ron that was Cormac's competitor?

And, even if it was Ron, it was unlikely that Angelina would favor him. Along with her morals being almost as straight as Hermione's own, the elder witch had been at this Head position for merely two months, too. Favoring people at such an initial stage wasn't going to lead her anywhere.

But, nevertheless, Hermione decided to have a word with Angelina. She'd cheated and knocked Cormac off the Gryffindor Quidditch team, once. She owed him.

Sighing, Hermione cast a locking charm on the drawers in her desk and got up. It was already past five, and she was about half hour late to her meeting with Lucius Malfoy.

Collecting her stuff, quickly, she made a mental self-note of arranging a meeting with Cormac sometime later in the week, as well. Then she left her table, intending to leave through the atrium's fireplace because it gave her the privacy that was much needed when she was flooing to the Malfoy Manor. The thought of the atrium and the fireplace, though, immediately made Hermione recall what she helplessly had been, since the past week – unable to knock it out of her memories.

I'm crazily attracted to you.

Draco's voice echoed about her head, and Hermione took in a stuttered breath.

His eyes roved over her, pupils dilated, so much that she could barely make out the silver rings that were his irises. "I'm attracted to your body," he continued in a throaty murmur. "Fucking crazy about all your luscious curves." His eyes zeroed on her breasts, and Hermione couldn't breath...

With a deep exhale, Hermione came back to the present. Her cheeks had warmed up by the time she reached the door to her office. Gripping the doorknob, she tried calming her breaths down, enough to make her seem normal if she were to bump into someone on her way to the fireplace, and then pulled it open.

She jumped back in surprise, her wand instinctively at the ready when she spotted a figure standing in the corridor, their fist poised to knock―and then deflated in relief – though with more than a little confusion – when she finally made out Harry's face in the dark.

"Harry," she stated, taking in a deep breath.

Harry dropped his hand, giving her a somewhat sheepishly smile, and shrugged. "Hello, stranger."

She let out an awkward laugh, not knowing how to respond. She'd been steering clear of Harry for almost a month – ever since his last visit to her house and the awkward, awkward conclusion to it. She didn't even know what him and Draco had talked about, when they left together, and had only prayed that the stupid blond hadn't spilled off anything that would cause serious issues between her and Harry.

After all, she couldn't really trust Draco. And she didn't – not one bit. She was, in fact, almost regretting her decision of helping Felicis Potions, and mentally cursing Andromeda for manipulating her into it.

"Okay…"

Hermione stopped in her tracks, eyes widening in embarrassment when she noticed how she had locked her office and taken two steps down the corridor, while Harry was still rooted to his spot against the opposite wall, and was looking at her with extremely skeptical eyes.

"In a hurry, eh?" he asked, taking quick steps to fall in stride with her. Hermione cleared her throat, flashing him―what she hoped was―a guilty smile. "Going somewhere?"

Okay. This was quickly getting out of her hands. He was asking too many questions, and it wouldn't be long before he arrived upon the very topic Hermione was wanting to keep away from their conversation. Already, he was seeming suspicious by what little Hermione had gauged in these past few minutes.

Not to mention the fact that Harry actually did seem like he wasn't going to leave anytime soon. And if he continued on to follow her home, she would miss her meeting with Lucius Malfoy. Well. That was something she was hoping to avoid.

"I'm just going home, Harry," she replied, running a hand through her tangled curls. "Today was stressful, and… I was just hoping to get home quickly and stuff myself with whatever leftovers my fridge would grant me with – and sleep."

Harry laughed at that, shaking his head, and it might have been merely her imagination, but it seemed as if his posture's stiffness loosened, too. "Is that so?" he asked, playfully, and then frowned as if in thought. "Well, how about this – let's grab dinner from somewhere outside. My treat?"

Hermione coughed to cover the gasp that left her. Shit! There went her foolish attempts at running away. If she refused now, there was no way Harry would not suspect. In fact, not just suspect, even. She had her doubts that he would force the entire story out of her if she stirred another doubt in him.

And telling him the true story? That was one conversation Hermione wanted to delay for as long as nature would allow her to. She'd rather forego it, actually, but that didn't seem like a possibility.

"Okay," she timidly told him, nodding and trying her best to not seem as reluctant as she felt.

"So… You said big day. Anything specific?"

Harry didn't exactly sound suspicious, but she had known him long enough to tell when his brain was working too much. Now seemed one of those occasions. And she was actually feeling afraid of his continuous questioning.

She had to distract him. And fast.

"You know, the usual stress that comes with explaining Muggle concepts to clueless wizards," she stalled, shrugging to emphasize how that wasn't a big deal. "But, there was a highlight to this utterly gloomy day, too."

"Really? What?" Harry chuckled.

"You do remember McLaggen, don't you?" she asked, and giggled aloud when Harry burst out laughing. "You do, I see."

Harry looked at her, a wide grin on his face. "Of course, I do, 'Mione. What about him?"

She smiled. She had him, now.

And she actually did, she found out, when Harry lost himself in laughs and snorts and general pity on McLaggen's poor fate. He suggested her to meet up with him, then – something that she'd herself been planning upon.

"I would, yes," she allowed, smiling at Harry when he let out a helpless bark of laughter, again. "But, I'm not sure when. I don't have much time, these days."

"Oh, yeah? We haven't been seeing much of the other, either. Have you noticed?" The abrupt bend in the conversation made her stutter, but she nodded in agreement. "Keeping way too busy, I see."

Laughing, nervously, Hermione ducked her head. "The...usual, you know? Campaigns and training and contracts – it's a circus at the office," she told him, hoping that he wouldn't drift back to snarky accusations and taunting tones, again.

He hummed in faint acknowledgement. "Lucky that you have a nice office, then, isn't it?" he complimented, looking around. Hermione looked ahead. They still had a few too many miles between them and the Atrium, and she almost wished to Apparate there instead of walking next to her best friend. "No wonder people are dying to work here," he added in a mumble, but she heard him, nevertheless.

And she didn't like it – not one bit. What did he mean by that? Why was he being so cryptic? What did he know? Why wasn't he asking her in that plain, old blunt fashion that had always been Harry's forte?

"Uh, what is that supposed to mean?" She channelled his bluntness for him, asking him what he wasn't telling her.

He shrugged, and she almost sighed in relief when they finally stepped into the atrium. "The other day, Malfoy"―Hermione froze at his name; all her muscles stiffened in place and her blood circulation almost skyrocketed, but Harry, in a very Harry-like manner, didn't notice―"confessed something similar. Said he wanted a place here and had applied for it back when you had, too," he continued, turning to look at her when they both stood before the fireplace. Hermione was just holding herself back from biting her nails out of nervousness, because she knew Harry was talking about the conversation from the day he had left her house with Malfoy. "He was at your house to collect your application, remember?"

Oh, she remembered that very well. Too well. Because she also remembered his body's heat when he'd pressed up against her and the warmth of his breath, and green apples, and―

"Well, he said he was planning to submit another application to Kingsley," Harry continued when Hermione didn't respond, and she finally focussed on what he was speaking. "But then he looked at your files, and realised that he didn't exactly stand a chance against what you had done. Essentially, he said that you're great at what you do."

Hermione stopped breathing for a moment. A weird combination of calm and nervousness was settling into her stomach. Not that a compliment from Draco Malfoy that Harry, of all people, was delivering to her was anything to not be completely shocked about, but Hermione's brain was chanting only the anthem of how Harry suspected that something was going on between her and Draco and that is why he'd been beating around the bush, all this time. Damn him!

Taking an inconspicuous breath, she snorted loudly, rolling her eyes as she went. "Come on, Harry," she said, intentional sarcasm dripping from her voice. "He's Malfoy. When do we ever believe what he says?"

Harry laughed, then, and taking another inconspicuous breath, so did she.

Things were under control.

Ginny looks up when she notices some stirring on the couch in her peripheral vision. And, surely enough, Malfoy is waking up. She lets out a deep breath, nudging Harry. Harry immediately lets go of the enchanted map of the Wizarding London that he'd been looking at, and dashes across the room to hover over Malfoy.

"Malfoy?" Harry calls out, patting at the delirious wizard's face.

Ginny walks up to him, too, and looks at Malfoy just as the blond blinks and sits up. "Potter?" he whispers, looking at the two of them through fluttering eyelashes. "Ginny?"

Ginny growls, lowly, and tugs at her hair to fight agitation. "Yes, you moron, well spotted," she snaps, turning away when Harry shoots her a warning glare.

"Hermione…" Ginny stiffens at the faint whisper. "We have to find her, Potter," Malfoy says in a frantic voice. "She is in danger. A grave danger."

Turning back around, Ginny finds Malfoy looking around with a queer sort of craziness sparkling in his eyes. Well, Ginny thinks, the Calming Draught has got to leave some marks.

"Potter, we have to hurry," he says again, and Ginny does a double take. Apart from his eyes and his voice, his demeanor is as still as stone.

But then, as he makes a move towards the door, Ginny's wrath gets the better of her. With a snarl, she marches ahead, and, ignoring Harry's calls, pulls Malfoy back by his shirt's sleeve and delivers a hard, resounding slap across his cheek. His face turns to a side, an ugly red outline of her palm blooming all over his pale skin. "You have got nothing to do with it – with her, remember?" she hisses out, narrowing her eyes at his expressions of shock.

"Ginny." Harry's concerned whisper in her ear causes her tightened shoulders to slump, and she turns her head to a side, her teeth tightly clenched. He plants a soft, chaste kiss to her temple, and her jaw loosens, as well. "Hermione's safety is our priority, Gin. Don't lose your head in anger."

She is about to respond when the door blasts open and Padma Patil rushes into the office, her long hair billowing after her. Apart from the fact that she would have no business visiting the Auror offices at such an hour if it wasn't for this emergency, one glance at the terrified expressions on the brunette's face is enough to make Ginny realize that Padma is aware of the situation.

She glances at Harry, confused, but Padma speaks up before Harry can open his mouth. "I received Blaise's Patronus," she exclaims, breathlessly, and Ginny decides to ignore the fact that Blaise is generally a rather unsocial person, and that this act of sending a Patronus to Padma is really weird of him. "Have you got some lead? Have you figured anything out?" Padma asks, desperately, looking between her and Harry.

Harry shakes his head, walking towards his table to pick up the letter that they'd been waiting for Malfoy to wake up for. "Nothing yet," he tells Padma before handing Ginny the letter and gesturing towards Malfoy.

Padma deflates, a concerned frown falling upon her forehead.

"Blaise… Where is he?" Malfoy asks, his clouded eyes fixed on Padma.

Padma jumps, looking around in surprise, before her gaze lands on Malfoy. Immediately, her face contorts into expressions of hope. She walks up to the ex-Slytherin, and clutches his shirt in tight fists. "The letter. You can read it, right?" she asks him, desperately.

With fumbling hands, Ginny hurriedly shoves the parchment towards him. "Yes, he can. Here."

He swallows multiple times, before he speaks. "Dear Miss Granger. I hope you're having a miserable day. I mean, of course you should be...I ensured that, didn't I? But―but… Do not rush to presume that the only threat I posed was to your relationship with your boyfriend. Which I have successfully mutilated. Congratulations on that, by the way." Malfoy stops, shutting his eyes for a moment before he continues. "Anyways, that isn't what I want you to think of, right now. I want you to think about him, but. Because? Your boyfriend's reputation is my next target. What problem do I have with Draco Malfoy, you might think. I would placate you: nothing, other than his intimate acquaintance with you. Sound creepy, do I? How about this: I have a beautiful, three-minute clipping of his intimate times with a lady that isn't you. What more, she doesn't even quite consent to his activities," Malfoy finishes with a catch to his voice, looKing up a Harry, desperately. "This is a lie, Potter, I―"

"I know, Malfoy,"Harry murmurs, shaking his head. Ginny cannot help but agree with that part.

Taking a breath, Malfoy continues again. "Do you catch my drift? No? Oh, come on Hermione… I'm talking about him r―r―aping Laura Caterina, o…" He trails off, biting down his lips, and Ginny cannot look at the terrible image that he makes. "B―but – but you know what else? You can prevent it. I am giving you an opportunity to. So… it is really simple: get down to your office, right now, or else. Well, nothing much, just some juicy details about a loathsome deed committed by the renowned Malfoy Junior, with his current girlfriend, no less, get scattered all over tomorrow's Daily Pro―Pro―" He breaks off, shutting his eyes.

Shocked to the core, Ginny sways in place, and clutches at his hands when Harry's chest meets her back and he holds her in place.

"From," Malfoy continues, without reading, "you know, don't you?"

"I certainly do," Harry mutters, before squeezing her hand once and stepping away.

Shaking her head, Ginny leans against the wall they're standing next to. Padma stands frozen in her spot, while Harry swears under his breath and breaks out into action.

"Expecto Patronum!" Ginny hears him yell, before he barks instructions at the stag to summon Kingsley. Quickly, he lowers himself next to the fireplace, and floo-calls the Head Auror. "Sir! I need you in my office. There's been a calamity. Right now, sir!"

Malfoy, Ginny passively notices, moves towards Padma and keeps a hand on her shoulder. "You—you know how to do that tracing thing with a mobile phone, don't you? Can you do that with H—H—Hermione's?" he brokenly asks, and Ginny is surprised to see how Padma's eyes light up.

"Oh, Krishna, yes!" she exclaims, immediately heading towards the fireplace. "I do admit that I don't trust it much at this point, but it's definitely worth a shot."

As Padma disappears to her office through the floo – probably intending to bring back some sort of equipment – Ginny's eyes fall back upon Malfoy's frame, and how he's tracing Hermione's words by a shaky finger on the letter in his hands. "Secure Draco, if need be," he reads from the parchment. "She cared," he whispers, quietly, probably to himself. "After all this, she still – she still cared about me."

Anger shoots through her veins again. Yes, Hermione did care about him, it seems. And he deserves none of it. Not being able to help herself, Ginny walks up to him and shoves him back with her palms flat on his chest. "Yes, she fucking did! And no, she fucking shouldn't have!" she screams, belatedly aware of the tears streaming down her face. "You idiot! You arsehole!"

He looks up, suddenly, his eyes wet and red. "I know."

Startled by his self-depreciation, Ginny takes a step back, and is spun around by a really frustrated looking Harry who has grabbed her by the elbow. He crushes her against his chest, pressing kisses to the crown of her head. "You're not going near him, again, okay?" he softly mumbles to her. "You're not speaking to him – not even looking at him if it bothers you."

Pulling back, Ginny brokenly nods, and Harry quickly wipes her tears off.

"Now. Go help Padma," he tells her, and then does Ginny notice that the other witch is not only back, but has even set up a small unit of strange contraptions at one corner of Harry's office. Swallowing, Ginny shakes her head. No, she doesn't know anything about these equipments, or about a "mobile phone". Yet, Harry grabs her chin between his forefinger and thumb. "No, I'm not, asking you. I'm telling you. You're a strong woman and you're going to stay strong, do you hear?" She does, and so she nods. He quickly kisses her forehead and steps away. "Go."

Ginny drags herself over to where Padma is seated. "Um… Any help?" she awkwardly asks.

Padma nods, eagerly, and hands her a sheet of paper which is filled with a series of typical combinations of numbers and alphabets. "These are some codes that I'll need to punch in, once the database loads," Padma instructs, and Ginny doesn't follow anything other than the word 'codes'. She nods, anyway. "Dictate them to me when I say so, please."

Ginny looks back at Harry, and does a double take when she sees that he's holding—a visibly devastated—Malfoy by his shoulders. She listens.

"—I don't know what went down between the two of you," Harry is saying in a soft voice. "And looking at her," he says, jerking his head in Ginny's general direction, "I'm not sure if I even want to. Not to mention how that letter has confused me more than ever. But, Malfoy – I'm going to need your help in finding Caterina."

Ginny shuts her eyes, a bitter taste in her mouth. She tells herself that Harry is being so lenient because he doesn't now—but all she can see is Hermione's shaken up, broken condition after her unconscious body had been sent through the floo at the Burrow, yesterday. She had been almost as traumatized as 'Dromeda and Fleur's recollection of her after she'd been exposed to the Cruciatus curse. Ginny has every reason to believe that she still is.

Even after Harry and Robards leave the office, telling her that they'll all be collecting at the Minister's office, and that she and Padma are supposed to be there after they're done, too, Ginny's eyes are fixated on Malfoy. She watches him as he walks up to the fireplace, probably following through with the instructions that Harry has given him. She watches him and wonders how he managed to pull off what he did. She'd been there with him and Hermione at the initial stages of their relationship. She'd been there to witness his unconditional love for Hermione in his eyes.

It is almost unbelievable, how this all has played out. But, she knows that even if Hermione manages to get past this and accept him back in her life, she is never forgiving Malfoy for what he did to Hermione.

"The codes, Gin." Padma's voice and expectant eyes snap her out of her hateful thoughts, and, with a sigh, she looks away from the vacant spot that Malfoy had been occupying, and focuses on the sheet before her.

"No!" Ron exclaimed, rubbing his forehead with two fingers. "I cannot control Pollux, Gin, he's the captain, not me!"

Ginny sighed. She and Ron been engaged in a fierce discussion – a borderline quarrel, actually – about the Chudley Cannons' poor strategies when the team's Seeker wasn't at his best gameplay. And, Ron was continually finding ways of discarding whatever changes Ginny was proposing.

"Listen, Ron―"

"Ginny!" They both paused and looked up. Harry was at the end of the drawing room, his face tensed and brows furrowed. "Do you have a minute?"

Raising her eyebrows, Ginny returned Ron's questioning gaze with a clueless shrug of her own. "What is it, Harry?" she asked her boyfriend, instead.

"Um, can I have a word? In private?" Harry sounded tired and almost frustrated.

Nodding, Ginny had just made to stand up, when Rin gripped her wrist and pulled her back down into the couch. "No, you can't. I'm leaving in a week, Harry, for the World Tournament! I need all the feedback – all the bloody suggestions that I can get."

Harry looked unamused, but Ginny laughed aloud. Pulling Ron's cheek in that icky manner that he hated so much, she got up. " I'll be back before you know it, brother," she teased, ducking before Ron could deliver the punch he was aiming for her head.

Then she straightened her clothes and passed Harry a comforting smile. "Gin," he breathed out when she neared him, pulling her close and planting a kiss on her lips.

Her cheeks immediately flushing, she pulled back and looked around. Luckily, no one was around, except―

Ron was pushing the parchment that Ginny had jotted down the weak points of his team on, under a decidedly very disinterested Angelina's nose, and, "I need help, Missus about-to-become George Weasley."

Rolling her eyes, Ginny caught hold of Harry's hand and slipped into the nearest bedroom. "What?" she asked, as soon as he had shut the door.

Harry removed his glasses and sighed. "It's about Hermione, and… Malfoy."

Ginny's eyebrows hiked up with interest. "Oh?"

"Yes, they…" He faltered, frowning. "They're growing close. Like, really close. How – I don't know. Why – I really want to know!" He threw his hands up, shaking his head, and settled on the bed.

"What?" she asked, squinting at him.

"Right?" he exclaimed, and Ginny gaped. What was right?! "And the funniest part is that I don't think Hermione is herself aware of it. They're like… flirting without any knowledge of it. And that is something big, because Malfoy doesn't even work in the same building as her!"

Ginny swallowed. What had gotten into Harry? Ginny couldn't see. She cleared her throat. "Well… they do say there's a fine line between love and hate," she hedged, tentatively.

Harry groaned, eyes shutting and face twisting as if he was in physical pain. "You approve of it?" he almost moaned as if in physical pain, too.

Ginny looked at his bowed, black head. "She's her own person, Harry, what do you mean approve?" she asked him, incredulously. "I'm not a fan, no, but I'm not going to be a mother hen, either!"

She scoffed, furious beyond belief at his attitude, and was ready to walk away when Harry grabbed her arm. "Okay, I'm sorry!" he said, looking into her eyes. "I'm sorry."

She tugged her arm out of his grip. "Say that to her," she muttered, then, already knowing what such behavior of Harry's was going to yield in future.

"What?" Harry bleated, now grasping both of her hands in his.

She rolled her eyes, and, changing the roles, curled her fingers around his wrists. "I know you won't let this go," she told him, continuing even when he shook his head. "I know you will cause chaos if the two of them ever do get together for real. And so, my love," she said, tracing her thumbs over the inside of his wrists—softening the blow her words were going to deliver, "save these apologies for when you've hurt her and she is refusing to see your face."

Harry's jaw slackened, and Ginny gave him a helpless, 'what can I do?' smile, before twisting in place and walking out of the room.

This time, Angelina was as enthusiastically involved with the discussion as Ginny had initially been. Smirking, she cocked her head to a side and cleared her throat. "Angelina, Ron," she said, pausing until she had their attention, "how about we have a little meeting, eh?" Ron's eyes lit up, and Angelina shrugged. That was good enough. "George, Audrey, Harry!" she yelled, satisfied to hear two grunts of acknowledgement and Harry's guilty face peeking out of the room. "We're having a Quidditch Strategy Planning session for Ron's tournament. Report to the dining room, you all!"

With that, she quickly settled on the chair next to Angelina, and when he appeared before her, gave Harry a reassuring smile and accepted him on her other side.

Mwahaha! Didn't see that coming, did you?

You've been picking the clues jo well, if you did. So. The next chapter's gonna be a huge one. In terms of the plot, I mean.

Correct any mistakes if you spot 'em.

xoxo,

Aishwarya!