Ron had a pint in front of him. It was only half empty. Unfortunately, it had been a very friendly pint and had brought along several of its friends. He had lost count when the shot glasses had joined the party. His brothers, Harry included, had come with him to the Leaky Cauldron but had steadily excused themselves as the night dragged on. Only George and Harry were still there.

"I think they went to the loo. Not together, I mean. Unless guys can do that now." He remarked to the witch who kept giving him bowls of little nibbly things. They were quite good, properly crunchy. "Your eyes are very blue, you know."

"I know, Ron." The blonde smiled gently then hurried along the bar to pull a pint for another customer. It was a busy night. Puzzled but pleased to be recognised, Ron watched her go. She had long legs and a short skirt. He was sure he knew her but the friendly beer made it difficult to think.

Except about Hermione.

He could think all he didn't like about Hermione.

With Marcus bloody Flint, the Quidditch star.

Montrose had finished third last year only because they'd had such trouble with Maddock. They had a good chance for the championship again, the bastards.

Ron decided he hated them too. For playing with Flint.

Like Hermione was, probably right now.

Bitch.

Whore.

Slag.

Ron stared morosely at his beer, not feeling the best of chums with it any more. What had he done wrong? He would've married her right after the battle, right there in Hogwarts with the fires still burning. He knew she was the girl for him.

"I just want to settle down, you know? Everything back the way it should be, right?" He asked his pint and the blonde appeared again.

"It'll be alright." She put a hand on his, offering another bowl of snacks. Hannah had been plying him with food to keep him from getting as stinking drunk as he obviously intended. No one wanted him to make a spectacle of himself. "Have something to eat. You've had quite a bit to drink."

"How do you know?" Ron asked, petulantly. How did she know it would all be right?

"I've been serving you drinks for hours, Ron."

"Oh, right. Yeah, 'course." He looked at the witch again. She was smiling at him. That was nice. Hermione seemed to have forgotten how to do that, like smiling wasn't on her To Do list. With all the other things more important than he was. "The beer's forgotten your name."

"Hannah." Hannah Abbott said kindly, unsurprised. Other than Lavender and Hermione, Ron had never really looked at the girls in their year. "I think you and the beer should go home now." Sending customers away early would get her in trouble with Tom but Ron was miserable.

"I don't want to go home. She won't be there. She's with Flint in his fancy house fully of flinty things." Ron scowled. That hadn't come out quite right. Flinty? Did he mean fancy? "Yeah, fancy." He nodded to himself then noticed her covertly trying to take his glass away. "Fancy a drink?"

"I work here." She spotted Harry winding his way through the crowd, trying not to be rude avoiding people wanting to shake his hand. People still did that to all the DA. Even to her. It was a little creepy.

"No, I mean not here. Later. Somewhere nice. You're a nice girl." Ron patted her hand like she had patted his. "I'm not drunk, you know." He said with dignity. "I, Ron, would like to take you, Hannah, for a nice drink somewhere nice." Tightening his grip on his pint glass, he nodded to the beer. "And I won't leave until you say yes."

"Harry." Hannah conveyed a lot in one word and a tilt of her head. Harry nodded.

"Come on, Ron. Let's get you home. Your mum will be worried." He put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "George is throwing up out the back. I'll return for him once I get you to the Burrow."

"Don't want to." Ron hunched stubbornly over the bar. "Not going. I asked pretty Hannah out on a date. I can do that now. A pretty date with a girl." He frowned at his beer. It was making him get things wrong again. And it had been so friendly earlier. "What's in this?"

"Everything." The barmaid grimaced. Tom hated wasting the dregs when he changed the kegs so he had taken to tipping them into a barrel for later. Once he had filled the barrel, it was 'unknown beer' time. She had to be careful not to go into the cellar with a naked flame.

"S'bloody good." He knocked back the last of his pint then put the glass down carefully. "Please say yes, Hannah." Ron tried to clasp her hand in his and missed, scattering nibbles across the bar. "Sorry. So sorry." He sniffed. The blonde witch surrendered.

"Yes, Ron. I'll go out with you. Somewhere nice, later." She added her hand to Harry's on his shoulder and gave a small shove, just enough to nudge Ron off the bar stool. He stumbled to his feet then bowed shakily.

"I will send a chariot for you, princess." Ron declared then let Harry steer him to the door. "See, over her already." He said in a mumble as they stepped out into the cold. "Asked out someone. Fancy free, me. And she married a troll. Ha ha to her."

"Yes, Ron." Harry walked him through the snow covered street, relieved his friend could still walk upright. Molly would not be pleased if he had to levitate two of her sons home in the same night.

"Why doesn't she love me, Harry?" Ron kicked at the snow. "I love her. We're supposed to be together. It's like fate. You and Ginny, me and Hermione. Like a prophesy."

"Rather over prophesies, myself." The Chosen One drew his wand and Apparated them to the Burrow. "More trouble than they're worth."