When Hermione entered the pub, Harry was already waiting for her. Ron had a Butterbeer ready in her usual spot, but when he saw her face, he stopped in the middle of what he was doing. Instead, he turned and selected a bottle filled with an amber liquid from the shelf behind the bar and poured a healthy measure into a fresh glass. As Hermione sat down, Ron swapped the glass in his hand for her Butterbeer and quaffed the beer in one go.

"Waste not!" he remarked cheerily, wiping his mouth with the back of his arm. "You look like you might need something a little stronger today."

Hermione slumped onto the stool. Harry, sitting next to her, was drinking deeply, guiltily trying to avoid her for as long as possible. She picked up the glass and took a large gulp; the liquid burned pleasantly on the way down. Firewhiskey, perfect.

"You look terrible." Ron had never been one for subtlety. "What happened, Hermione?"

Hermione shot Harry a glare and rolled her eyes. "Seriously, Harry? You didn't even tell him?"

He mumbled something that sounded like an apology into his glass, cheeks flushing pink with embarrassment.

"Harry, here, agreed to a rubbish new project for the Minister, which Shacklebolt demanded I work on." She paused for a drink.

"Well, that doesn't sound so—"

"With Draco Malfoy."

Ron's mouth dropped open. "What? Since when has that git been working for The Ministry, Harry?"

Unable to avoid the conversation, Harry set down his mostly empty mug. "He's not working for The Ministry. He's a consultant," he explained sheepishly.

Hermione scoffed — she was doing a lot of that today. "As if that matters… Either way, Malfoy and I are to be working on the same bloody project for the bleeding Minister for the next six bloody months." She drained the rest of her glass, gritting her teeth against the burn. Always the attentive bartender, Ron promptly refilled the glass.

"And I take it the project isn't going very well then?" Ron asked hesitantly, not wanting Hermione to turn her anger on him.

"It's not even off the ground, Ron. We barely started talking before he— well, you know how he can be." She took another smaller drink this time; getting completely pissed would only make things worse.

Harry cleared his throat.

"Hermione," he began hesitantly, but grew more forceful as he spoke. "I know you probably don't want to hear this right now… but are you sure you gave him a chance?"

She glowered at him over the rim of her glass.

He pressed on — Gryffindor bravery on display. "All I'm saying is, I've worked with Malfoy on a few cases where we've needed an expert, and he seemed like he'd grown a lot since the war, just like the rest of us."

Her lips thinned in response.

He continued, in a gentler voice. "I saw how you reacted in that room, Hermione. I know the two of you have history, and I'm not telling you to forget about it. But I don't think you're giving him a fair chance to show you he's changed."

"You're right Harry," she snapped. "I really don't want to hear it right now." She was trying to keep her temper in check, but if this conversation continued, she'd lose the whole bloody plot.

"I'll just say this then: I didn't trust him either at first. I assumed Malfoy was the same posh git that he was when we were at Hogwarts. Don't get me wrong, I won't be having a drink with him anytime soon; I just think you should reconsider. Give Malfoy a chance to show you that maybe he's changed."

Gripping her glass tightly, her eyes remained fixed on the bar top as Harry finished the last of his drink in silence and left. He was Gryffindor to the core when he felt someone was being unfairly judged. It was part of what made him such a good Auror, but right now it just made her blood boil.

Sensing that she needed space, Ron took this as an opportunity to check in with his staff and a few of the other patrons, though he returned after a few moments to slide her a basket of chips and a glass of water. It seemed like all the Weasley kids had inherited Molly Weasley's natural caregiver tendencies — at least Ron and Ginny certainly had. He returned as Hermione was finishing the last of her chips.

"All right, Hermione?"

She nodded, feeling quite knackered from the stress of the day, but content after the chips had helped fill her empty belly. The pleasant buzz from the alcohol helped as well. "I just can't believe his nerve… He knows how I feel about Malfoy…" She sounded more tired than angry now.

He leaned on the bar as she continued.

"Somehow, Harry still manages to always see the good in people. I wish I could — honestly — but after the war…"

Ron nodded sympathetically, understanding what she was trying to say without her needing to say it. "I think Harry knows that. You know we both love you, Hermione. Harry wasn't trying to hurt you on purpose."

She sighed heavily. "I know."

"You know," he continued, his voice taking on a wistful quality. "When we were at Hogwarts, nobody thought much of me… You were the smart one, Harry was the brave one, and I was the goofy one."

"Ron, you know we never thought—"

"That's not the point, Hermione. The point is, other than you and Harry, nobody had any real expectations of me. When we went back to Hogwarts to finish our final year, everyone kept asking you and Harry about your careers. I remember the mountain of unsolicited offer letters you got before accepting your Auror position. It was embarrassing, honestly."

He laughed at the memory before he continued, and Hermione couldn't help but smile.

"Anyway, it wasn't exactly the same for me, and I started to feel like… to believe that I was the goofy sidekick of the Golden Trio. I couldn't see any value in myself unless I was attached to the two of you — a convenient package deal."

She had known that Ron had a difficult time after they graduated from Hogwarts, but she wasn't sure why he was telling her this now after all these years.

"You remember that first year after we graduated, and I was playing for the Canons?"

A nod.

"I was miserable." He laughed drily. "I knew I didn't want to follow you and Harry around forever, but quidditch felt like the only other thing I was any good at. And let's be honest — I wasn't great at quidditch either."

A smirk worked its way onto her face and she wiped it away quickly — even with her limited quidditch knowledge, she knew he wasn't wrong.

"Hermione… you were the only person who seemed to truly see me. Did you know that? You saw through me and gave me a second chance to be someone else; you believed in me in a way that no one else did."

Tears welled in her eyes and she looked at him, shaken — he'd never shared any of this with her before.

"I never would have worked up the courage to buy this place without your encouragement. Everyone else expected me to fail... Even my mum told me it was an even worse decision than the time I took Dad's car and crashed it into the Whomping Willow." He chuckled to himself, patting his willow-top bar smugly.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is… I'm just incredibly lucky to have friends who believe in me. I know not everyone has that. Not everyone gets a second chance."

Topping off her glass, he left her in thoughtful silence. Hermione finished her chips before Floo'ing home, still reeling from what Ron had shared with her. She'd had no idea he felt that way.