Hermione's one person drunken pity party was two years ago. Her idea of opening her own book shop had come to fruition, and she was now the proud owner of A New Chapter, her very own and very successful bookshop.

She had cursed herself during the process for not becoming her own boss much sooner. But while she'd had the funds to get started - she been left with a sizeable inheritance and a large insurance payout from her parents - it had by no means been an easy ride. At first the book vendors and publishers were reluctant to deal with her, Don Blotts' threats had them spooked, so she sought out independent sellers, who were more than happy to deal with her, since Don refused to deal with anything and anyone that wasn't mainstream. And of course, the town's folk absolutely refused to buy from her, mostly out of fear. But the coffee, cake and croissants slowly brought them through the door.

Hermione did have to thank Don for one thing though; since he thought it below him to deal with the book vendors himself, she had made some excellent contacts and was able to use them to her advantage. Once they'd realised the potential of some competition, and once they'd realised they could deal with someone that wasn't Don Blotts, they were more than happy to come to her and her little shop took off.

Don Blotts was furious, to say the least. His stranglehold on Grimsby's readers was all powerful, or so he had thought. All the ideas that she had had while she worked at Flourish and Blotts - all the ideas that Don had vetoed - she had implemented into her shop and they had all been a huge success. The coffee machine and couches had been the biggest hit; the two o'clock mums that needed that hit of caffeine before the school pick up thoroughly enjoyed the quiet spot to sit before the mad rush of children came crashing down on them. The children's corner had Lego™ and toys and books they were welcome to be read without purchase, and it was a popular spot for the non-school age children while their mothers drank coffee.

The banned book section had been a big hit. Hermione was sure that the townsfolk thought that they were doing something daring and risqué and maybe even breaking the law, which she found highly amusing. The folks that lived in Grimsby really didn't understand the concept, but she enjoyed that they were reading books that they had been told they shouldn't.

And the introduction of a Tuesday night book club (which she deemed appropriate since it was a drunken Tuesday night that she came up with the idea) was a huge hit. It started with only a group of five that met one Tuesday a month, but it had grown to almost seventy, and they had to split into four groups and meet every Tuesday.

Her little shop had grown in size and popularity, putting Flourish and Blotts in the almost out of business category. Don was scrambling to catch up, installing his own coffee machine, but Lavender (yes, she was still there since she was unemployable anywhere else) couldn't make coffee to save her life, so it had been a miserable failure. And Don being the miserable tight arse that he was, refused to buy any sort of seating for his customers, so coffee really wasn't the best option anyway. In fact Hermione's shop had become so successful that she had bought the shop next door, thereby doubling her selling space, and she had also purchased the flat above the shop next door, and doubled her living space. She was happier than she had been in years.

Wednesday morning and the eight am rush had just passed and Hermione was under the counter with her arse in the air, trying to sort out a cable that had dislodged itself from the computer, when she heard the shop bell jingle. Assuming it was Missy, her coffee delivery girl, she yelled "Just shove it in the rear and I'll deal with it later."

She heard the distinct rumble of male laughter, while Pansy sniggered over the hiss of the milk steamer. That was definitely not Missy's laugh. She snapped her head up, completely forgetting that she was under the counter and smacked the back of her skull into the hard underside of it.

"Mother fucking shitting oww !" Hermione hollered grabbing the back of her head, rolling forward and thumping her forehead onto the floor, not even caring that her arse was back in the air. She groaned in agony, a sharp, painful throb pounded through her head and her eyes began to water.

"Nice," Pansy drawled sarcastically, "An excellent way to impress a new customer. Tell them to shove something in your rear, and then curse at them."

Pansy was her no nonsense, take no prisoners friend. Where Ginny was charming and sweet with the customers, taking her time and chatting politely with them, Pansy was straight to the point, efficiently dealing with customers to get them in and out of the shop as quickly as possible. And she happily took on the difficult customers – she took them as a personal challenge, truth be told - the ones who never bought books but instead came in only for the coffee and then complained about it. Those customers learned quickly to not piss Pansy off because if they did, she would none too politely tell them they were more than welcome to head to Flourish and Blotts and get themselves a cup of piss-tasting coffee brewed by the town tramp if they weren't happy with the service here.

"Shut up Pansy, that fucking hurt!" Hermione shuffled backwards on her knees, still holding her head, debating for a few beats if she should actually attempt to sit up, before doing so, slowly. She kept her eyes closed; sure if she opened them she would see cartoon birds circling her head.

"Are you okay?" The deep timbre of his voice had the butterflies stirring in her stomach and she hadn't even seen him yet. He could be as ugly as sin for all she knew, but that voice. Hmm.

"Um, I think so" she said gingerly touching the sizeable lump that had already formed on the back of her head.

"Don't move," he said, "Wait until the stars clear from your eyes."

Hermione sniggered, "Cartoon birds, actually."

He laughed, "You're making jokes, at least you're not concussed."

"Concussed?" She asked, slowly opening her eyes. There were no cartoon birds but there certainly were stars. She remained still for a few more seconds waiting for her vision to clear, she still couldn't see him since her back was turned but asked, "Are you a doctor?"

"Hell no!" He laughed, "A teacher, but I have a seven year old, so I deal with head bumps all the time."

Hermione gripped the edge of the counter and pulled herself to her feet and turned around, about to apologise for the colourful language, but heart stuttered and she was rendered speechless. She did manage to say a silent prayer of thanks to the good and great mother of all that is blonde and hot in this world for depositing this piece of perfection in front of her. And he was smiling at her, not seeming to be put off by her foul-mouthed outburst.

And it was one of those perfect smiles; perfect teeth, perfect curve of lips, and it was a smile that made it all the way to his eyes. He was dressed impeccably in tailored pants, a crisp white shirt and a tie that matched those smiling eyes - washed out blue, bordering on grey. And the chest and shoulders that that were hidden behind that button down were clearly well maintained. His hair was cut short, styled perfectly; neat and tidy in that way that made you want to run your fingers through it and mess it up. And of course, he was blonde. Her own personal Achilles heel; blonde hair.

A blonde Adonis walks into my shop and the first view of me he gets is my arse in the air? Thank you universe, Hermione grumbled internally,

"Wow," Pansy said, "You managed to silence her. I'm guessing it's the blonde hair, she's a sucker for blondes."

Hermione felt her face heat up. She honestly didn't need enemies with the friends she had. She glared at Pansy, who shrugged and told her, well, it's true, then turned back to her coffee machine (she had claimed it as her own when Hermione had hired her, and it was very rare that someone other than she or Ginny were allowed to touch it. It was even off limits to Hermione).

She cleared her throat, "Sorry about all that," she said, "I thought you were my coffee delivery girl."

"Hey, it's not every day you get such a colourful welcome when you buy coffee. I rather enjoyed it." Mr Tall, Blonde and Hot laughed, a deep sound that resonated through her, and had her legs feeling like jelly. No, wait, that was probably the cracked skull she was sure she was now sporting. She leaned her hip against the counter anchoring herself so she wouldn't fall – the dizzy feeling still present.

She narrowed her eyes at him, "I don't know you."

"No, you don't," He told her, "Why do you think you should?"

"I know everyone in this town," she said.

"Well, maybe I'm not from this town," he said with a wink, "I might be just passing through."

"It takes about eight and a half seconds to pass through this town," Grimsby had 3 sets of traffic lights, all on the main street, and if you got them on a good day, that eight and half seconds could easily be four, "So there's absolutely no reason for anyone to stop here. So why would you?"

"Maybe I'm not stopping here," he grinned again, and she hoped that he was only just passing through, she was sure she wouldn't cope with this roguish smirk everyday without jumping him, "Maybe I saw this place and simply needed coffee."

She studied him, there was something. She wasn't sure what, but it was something, "No," she said shaking her head, "If you were just passing through, you'd have your child with you."

Mr Tall, Blonde and Hot looked at Pansy, "Part time detective?"

Pansy laughed and informed him, "This one knows everything and everyone."

"Well then, I'm pleased to inform you that the high school needs a new English teacher, and I'm it."

They shouldn't have been surprised. Mrs Sprout, the much loved and much feared English teacher had finally, at age 80, decided to retire. The school board had been pushing for it for the last few years, but she had refused and told them in no uncertain terms that she would retire when she was damned well ready to and not a moment before. She looked set to proceed for another year, but failing health at the start of the new school year had put an end to it. And a mad scramble to find a suitable replacement had ensued. And Hermione had to remember to thank the school board personally for the brilliant replacement.

He smiled again. And oh, that flip that her stomach did most certainly wasn't caused by the bump on her head. He extended his hand across the counter, "Draco Malfoy."

Hermione took his hand and shook it, "Holy crap, your hands are freezing!" She told him, her thumb dragging across his skin as he pulled away, apologising. She waved it away, "Hermione Granger," She said smiling, "And this is Pansy, you'll get used to her."

He grinned at Pansy, "This is your place?"

"Nope," Pansy said thumbing at Hermione, "She's the boss, the foul-mouthed, arse-flashing boss. What can I get for you?"

"Flat white, thanks" he said and turned back to Hermione, "So, Hermione, daughter of Menelaus and Helen, how is it that you came to own a book store?"

"You know your Greek Mythology," Hermione said, ignoring his question owing to the fact she was duly impressed at his reference. So few people knew the origins of her name, they mostly just thought it odd. Her book loving, history loving father had named her as such. When he and her mother couldn't agree on a name for her they flipped a coin, resulting in her father winning and naming her Hermione. And the curious looks and questions she got wouldn't have changed with her mother's choice, had she won the coin toss. Instead of being named Hermione she would have been Aspen, her nature loving mother's favourite tree. So she would have been screwed either way when it came to names.

"Teacher," he reminded her.

"English teacher," she countered, "Not history."

He looked back at Pansy, "Is she serious?"

Pansy gave him a serious look, "Oh, she is. You get things right with this one, or you get sent to the corner to think about what you've done."

He looked back at Hermione, a thoughtful look on his face, and then he narrowed his eyes and smirked, "You were rightfully mine, from a long time ago. Your father promised you to me when he left for Troy but being the liar that he is, he offered you to Neoptolemos when he arrived in Troy in return for the captured the city."

Both Hermione and Pansy were looking at him slack jawed, "Pretty rough translation from Euripides, but pretty close," he winked at them, "I like history, not just English." He picked up his coffee and placed money on the counter, "I'll see you both tomorrow."

"Fuck," Pansy whispered as left the shop, both admiring the rear view as much as the front, "The hottest guy on the planet walks in here and flirts with you, using Greek Mythology no less, and then promises to return the very next day. I think your luck is about to change, my friend."

"He has a child, which probably means he has a wife." Hermione pointed out, her voice angrier than she meant it to be.

Pansy, recognising that Hermione's temper was simply masking her immediate attraction to the new stranger, simply smirked at her, "No wedding ring." she said.

"Of course you'd notice that." Hermione rolled her eyes, "And you don't have to be married to get pregnant, grandma. Clearly there's a woman in his life, seven year olds don't just pop out of nowhere."

"Single dad," Pansy countered then wiggled her eyebrows, "Hot single dad. Hot, blonde single dad."

"And why would that make him any different than all the others?"

"Tell me your stomach didn't do a flip at the sight of him." Hermione's face flushed pink and Pansy grinned at her, "Just as I thought."

Hermione sighed, "Pansy, all he told us is that he has a seven year old, and he's a teacher. He could be a pathological liar for all we know, or a serial killer."

"Oh come on!" Pansy said laughing, "Serial killer aside, there's potential there."

"Potential for what?"

Pansy's smile stretched a mile wide, "The potential to get you laid."

"Excuse me!?" Hermione choked out.

"It's been three years since Oliver the arsehole and it's about time you cleared out those cobwebs."

Hermione glared at her, and held her hand up, "This conversation is over."

Pansy laughed as Hermione walked away, "Oh, it so is not."

"I thought you said coffee dad, this place has books." Hermione heard a young voice ask. And she smiled; it was rare that the young boys in town were remotely interested in books, football and video games being much more important. So she was delighted to hear the excited notes in this young person's voice.

It was Thursday morning and she was tidying the shelves in the back of the shop leaving Pansy and Ginny to work the counter. She'd taken Advil for the resulting headache after yesterdays' tangle with the underside of the counter, and was content to be concentrated on the quiet of the shelves, rather than the constant chatter of caffeine needy customers. Pansy, Ginny and Katie knew she preferred to be with the books anyway, so they were more than happy to make coffee and deal with the mad rushes throughout the day – mornings, lunchtime and before school pick-up were their busiest times and she gladly handed the front counter to her employees.

There was a familiar laugh, the one that made her stomach flip yesterday, and was doing the same today, "They have both."

"Awesome! Can I look at the books?" the child asked, and she assumed it was the seven year old.

"Okay, but we can't be long," that deep voice told him and she smiled. Ten minutes the previous morning and his voice was seared onto her brain, "We have to get to school."

She heard him order a flat white – two days in a row, she thought, hopefully he'll become a regular – heard Pansy and Ginny talking to him, Pansy making the introductions, Oh, you're the new English teacher at the High School? Ginny asked and Hermione could almost hear the smirk in her voice.

She could just imagine the conversation that would have taken place between her two friends after work the previous night. The pair had been enthusiastically, (bordering on aggressively) encouraging her to 'get out there and meet someone new' for months. But the burn from her failed marriage was still raw, even though it had been three years since he had left, and it was that burn had made her overly cautious when it came to dating.

And then she heard she's in the back, kid's books I think. And she told herself to fire her friends and hire a whole new staff. A staff who wouldn't rat her out to hot blondes that made her stomach do back flips.

"Excuse me, do you work here?" A voice startled her and she turned to see a miniature version of the man who visited the shop yesterday morning, all blue-grey eyes and blonde hair, and yes, she told herself, this was definitely the seven year old.

"I do work here," she said with a smile, "In fact this is my shop."

"Really?" his eyes were wide, almost comically so and she answered in the affirmative, "You own a book shop, that's so cool. I love books. So does my dad."

"And I'm glad to hear that," Hermione couldn't help but smile at the boy, and asked, already assuming the answer, "Is your dad here with you?"

The boy smiled, a smile that was identical to his father's, lighting up his entire face and making his eyes sparkle, "Yeah, he's just getting coffee and then we have to go to school. He's a teacher."

"Hello," Draco said as he approached, stopping to grip his son's shoulder and watching him proudly as he politely conversed with her, "How's your head?"

Hermione sniggered, "Fortunately my skull didn't crack open as I suspected it had, but I am sporting a rather sizeable lump and a slight headache," she shrugged, "It's why I'm not at the counter today. They don't trust my impaired judgment. That and they don't like me being up there anyway."

"I thought you were the boss?" he said and Hermione laughed, telling him that her boss status made no difference to Pansy or Ginny, "Well, I'm glad to hear there's no permanent damage. You've met my son, I see."

Hermione gave him a look of mock surprise, "Oh really, this is your son? I would never have guessed."

"This is Scorpius," Draco told her, smiling down at his son.

"Hi Scorpius, it's lovely to meet you." she said, still astounded at just how much this child looked like his father, "I'm Hermione."

Scorpius looked up at Draco, a huge smile on his face, "That explains it."

Hermione frowned; she'd missed something here, "Explains what?" she asked.

"Usually people look at me all weird when I tell them my name, but I guess you're probably the same." He explained.

She laughed, "You're right. Hermione isn't the most common name around."

"Neither is Scorpius," he looked at his father with what Hermione assumed was the usual look of disgust whenever his name was spoken about.

"What? My parents named me Draco," Draco said, "Besides, you have an awesome name, how many other Scorpius's have you ever met."

Scorpius rolled his eyes at what Hermione assumed was the usual argument for naming his son as such, "Can I look at more books?"

Draco glanced at his watch, "Unfortunately no. We have to go. We can come back tomorrow afternoon and look then."

"Will you be here?" Scorpius asked Hermione and she was impressed that he hadn't even flinched at Draco's no. She was used to hearing whines and tantrums, so this was a nice change.

"Well, it's my shop, so yes. I will be here." She smiled at him, wanting to reach out and scuff his mass of blonde hair, but keeping herself in check, she'd only just met him.

"Brilliant," he said.

"I agree, brilliant," Draco said, "We'll see you tomorrow."

Hermione smiled and said goodbye, watching them both until they left the shop. She continued to tidy the neatly stacked shelves, avoiding returning to the counter and the watchful gazes of her friends. She sighed and shook her head. Why was she not surprised that he had managed to produce the most adorable child she'd possibly ever seen (with the exception of James, because Ginny would kill her if she thought otherwise)?

She moved further into the back of the shop, attempting to hide from Pansy and Ginny, so lost in her own thoughts to notice her friends watching her as she tidied the shelves she'd already attended.

Friday morning and she was disappointed. No blonde English teacher showed up for coffee. It had only been two days and barely fifteen minutes of conversation and she already looked forward to seeing him. She'd left Ginny and Katie at the counter and stalked off into the shelves, taking her frustrations out on the non-existent dust on the books.

She shouldn't be mad, she really shouldn't. She had no right to be mad. And if she was truly honest with herself she had nothing to actually be mad about. This man was nothing to her, and likewise she with him. But she couldn't seem to shove the feeling of him away. She didn't want to romanticise it –whatever it was, because two days really didn't amount to much, if anything at all - but the instant attraction to him, the feeling of familiarity had overwhelmed her and he had consumed her thoughts from the second he walked into her life.

And her sullen mood hadn't gone unnoticed. Ginny had been watching her watch the clock. She had been all morning, anticipating his arrival. But as it passed 8.45, she knew he wouldn't be there. She headed into her office at the back of the shop to sulk, not quite slamming the door, but shutting it harder than absolutely necessary. She absently flicked through the pages of invoices on her desk, not really taking any notice of what was on them, telling herself she was being ridiculous, that she was a grown damned woman and she didn't need these stupid teenage feelings that were making her life a confusing mess

A quiet knock startled her from her brooding, and she glanced at the clock when Ginny entered, a steaming cup of her favourite Pear and Ginger tea in her hand. It was 9.30, she'd been sulking for forty five minutes, and she berated herself for being so childish.

"Do you want to tell me what's going on?" Ginny asked and Hermione mumbled nothing, "Hermione, you were watching the clock all morning and now you're out here sulking. Were you expecting something, or someone, this morning?"

She looked up at Ginny's smirking face, "Really? You're giving me shit about this?"

Ginny held her hands out and shrugged, "How can I give you shit about this when I don't even know what this is?"

Hermione shot her an incredulous look, "Really? You're telling me that you and Pansy haven't had one conversation about this?"

"Are we talking about the hot blonde that has been in the last two days but not today?"

Hermione sighed, "Two days. Two days, Gin and I've turned into a simpering teenager. What the fuck is wrong with me?"

Ginny hugged her shoulders and kissed the top of her head, "It's been three years and he's blonde and you're horny."

"Be serious." Hermione couldn't help but laugh, her friend knew her all too well.

"I am," Ginny said, "There's no reason you shouldn't ask him out, and scratch that itch."

"Um, it's been two days," Hermione reminded her, "Actually, it's not even that. It's more like fifteen minutes. And he has a child. And possibly a wife or girlfriend, so a relationship with him can't happen."

"It doesn't have to be a relationship you know that, right? It can just be sex. A one nighter would do you a world of good."

"Child. Wife. Girlfriend. Did you hear any of that?"

Ginny grinned at her, "Nope. Pansy asked and there's no wife or girlfriend."

Hermione's face went red, "Pansy asked him? Pansy? No, she didn't?" Pansy wasn't known for her tact and Hermione was embarrassed simply by the thought of her asking him.

"Oh she most certainly did," Ginny laughed at the look of horror on Hermione's face, "And I believe he told his son they would be back on Friday afternoon," Ginny pointed out, "So his lack of appearance this morning probably just means he'll be here later. So maybe you can stop sulking."

Hermione was surprised, curious as to what the story was. She had been completely taken with him from the moment she saw him and wondered who would willingly give up the opportunity to be with him – if that was the case. But then maybe the pretty exterior was all there was. Maybe it was hiding a complete arsehole, and she'd had more than here share of those, and she certainly wasn't in the market for another. She toyed with the mug that Ginny had placed on her desk, trying to calm the jumble of feelings that swirled inside her, Ginny's words playing over and over in her head; No wife, No girlfriend.

Hermione looked up at Ginny and immediately regretted doing so. Her life-long friend knew her all too well and was currently staring straight at her, a knowing smirk on her face. She quickly looked back down, shaking her head, "When did I turn into a girl, with stupid girl feelings?" Hermione grumped.

Ginny laughed, "Oh, my friend. It's been far too long since you had stupid girl feelings. It will be fun to watch this."

"How are my two favourite girls?" Harry asked as he walked through the door later that afternoon. Hermione and Katie smiled and said they were both fine, Ginny just shook her head. He leaned across the counter and kissed her, "And my favourite wife?"

"You know," Ginny mused, "I often think its adorable this whole routine you do when you're here, but more often I don't."

Harry laughed, "In that case. I'll just have to keep doing it until you think it's adorable every time."

Hermione knew that as much as Ginny whinged about Harry, she was as equally in love with him. She loved watching her two best friends together, she always had. They had been together since they were in their mid-teens and they were made for each other; Harry's impulsive and adventurous nature merged perfectly with Ginny's calm and sensible one. No one was at all surprised when Harry joined the police force and they were even less surprised when his determined nature helped him to race through the ranks.

"Woah," came a small voice, "Dad, I think he's The Flash."

"Scorpius!" Draco exclaimed, gripping his son's shoulder and then looked at Harry, "Sorry, he's superhero obsessed."

The three women were doing their best to not laugh at the expression of complete awe on Scorpius's face as he stared at Harry's forehead, Harry was grinning smugly. He squatted down in front of Scorpius, lowering his voice and making a show of rubbing his finger across the scar on his forehead, "Well, I can't tell you if I am, but I also can't tell you if I'm not." He gave Scorpius a knowing wink, and nodded at him.

Scorpius's eyes went even wider and he looked up at Draco, "See, I told you."

Draco looked doubtful, "I don't know, he never said he was."

Scorpius frowned at him and lowered his voice, "He's not allowed to tell us, Dad."

Draco's mouth twitched and it took all he had to not laugh at his son, "Well, I guess you're right. But since we know, we can't tell anyone either."

Scorpius grinned at his father, "D-uh! I know that. Hi Hermione!" he said and wandered off into the book shelves.

"Sorry about that," Draco said to Harry, "Seven year olds really don't have a filter, as I'm finding out more and more."

"No apologies needed," Harry laughed, "I have a seven year old of my own...he's never called me The Flash though."

"Please tell me there at least an interesting story behind that?" Draco said nodding towards Harry's forehead. The peals of laughter from behind the counter told him there was.

"Yeah, I dodged a bullet." Harry said grinning.

"If that bullet was a toilet bowl and you were drunk." Hermione cackled.

At his stag do three weeks before his own wedding, a very drunken Harry stumbled into the toilets at the local pub and managed to tumble headfirst into a toilet bowl. Eight stitches and a furious bride later, resulted in a very odd, lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead and Harry's hair being styled to cover it for wedding photos.

"I'm happy to go with the bullet story," Draco told him, "I was there and I saw the whole thing."

Harry laughed and then grinned at the three women, "I like this guy."

Hermione kicked Ginny in the ankle before she could make a comment, reading the exact thought that was going through her head - You're not the only one.

"Harry, this is Draco Malfoy, the new English teacher at the High School," Hermione made the introductions, "Draco this is Harry Potter, the local police sergeant, and Ginny's other half."

The two men shook hands and Harry's eyes flicked to Ginny. Hermione wanted to roll her eyes at the silent conversation between the two. Clearly Harry was asking if this was the guy, and Ginny's tiny nod answered the question.

"These two, Dad," Scorpius said placing two books on the counter. Hermione picked them up and smiled, The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman, and Rick Riordan's The Lightning Thief.

"Excellent choices, my young friend," Hermione told him, and then gave him a narrow glance, "Are you sure you're old enough to read these?"

"He'll have these read before next Friday," Draco told her, and handed his credit card to Katie, "He reads at least two books a week, it's going to cost me a fortune coming here."

"And we're happy to take that fortune from you," Hermione said smiling at the boy who kept glancing sideways at Harry, she lowered her voice to a whisper and told him, "Scorpius, you can call him Harry, he doesn't like people calling him The Flash, since he needs to keep it secret."

Scorpius laughed, "The Flash's name is Barry, not Harry. And I know he's not The Flash. His scar is cool though."

"You got me," Harry laughed and scruffed the boy's hair, making Hermione's heart ache with want to do it herself, "No, I'm not The Flash but I am the police, so watch out."

He looked at Hermione for confirmation and she nodded and handed him the books she put into a bag, "He's a big softie though, so don't let him scare you."

Ginny handed Draco his coffee and the two blondes that had turned Hermione's world upside down smiled and bid them all farewell.

"And there's the smile we all love," Ginny said wrapping her arm around Hermione's shoulders, "I told you he'd be here."

Harry was looking at Hermione thoughtfully, "Ginny said he'd been making you smile. It's about time."

"I'm so glad my life is the subject of all your conversations," Hermione drawled, but she couldn't hide the smile Harry was talking about.

"Well, any man that can make you smile like that has my blessing," Harry told her. Hermione rolled her eyes, for an only child, she had more brothers than she needed.

"And you know what they say," Katie said, "'The best way to get over one man is to get under another one'."

"My thoughts exactly," Ginny said with a laugh, and then stopped when Hermione glared at her, "What?"

"I don't need to...get under a man...I'm well and truly over the last one," Hermione snarked at hem.

"Oh come on," Katie laughed, "You well and truly deserve a piece of that. What are you waiting for?"

"Um, I've known him for three days," Hermione said with an implied d-uh, and began to walk away. She didn't need to talk about this again. Pansy and Ginny had made enough out of it already.

"You can walk away all you like, but we're not going to let up on it." Ginny sang.

Hermione groaned, and wondered just how hard it would be to find a whole new staff in the next 24 hours.