"But… you're still coming to the party, yeah?"

Hermione sighed and rubbed her forehead, moving the phone to her other hand to hold it in her neck.

"I don't know, Gin…" she said, while adding parmesan cheese to her mushroom risotto on the stove.

"Hermione, just because my brother is a cheating, lying bastard doesn't mean you can't continue on with your life."

Hermione smirked at Ginny's blunt insult as she shook the risotto onto a plate and turned the stove off.

"Besides," the redhead continued. "And do keep in mind, I'm not trying to blame you for anything, but, weren't you having doubts about your relationship anyway?"

"Yes, bu-"

"Exactly! So stop hiding from the world and come to the engagement party! You've done nothing wrong, and we love you."

"You just love my baking."

"While that may also be true, you know this is about you."

Hermione walked her plate over to the small kitchen table before responding.

"Fine."

"YES! Hermione, darling, thank you so much. You don't know how happy you've just
made me! Oh, er- and Harry of course."

Hermione gave her a small chuckle and took a bite of mushroom before interjecting, "The second something bad happens, I'm leaving."

"'Mi…"

"Gin, Ronald is the biggest hothead on the planet, you know it's true," Hermione replied, jabbing her fork into the space in front of her. "I just don't want to have to hex a member of your family into oblivion on your special day."

It was Ginny's turn to laugh and reply with a begrudging, "Oh, alright."

"Great. So, cake?"

"Chocolate and raspberry?!"

"Of course."

"Ooh, yum. Okay, tomorrow, 7 p.m. sharp!"

"I'll get there early, around 6."

"Good. Oh, and wear something sexy."

"Why?"

"Just do it!"

"Ugh. The things I do for you... Bye, Gin."

"Bye!"

Hermione set the phone down on the mahogany table with a soft thud, now semi-regretting the decision to convince all her friends to get ones as well – it made it too easy for them to contact her. Sighing, she leaned into her chair and closed her eyes, letting her head fall back. It had been 3 weeks since she caught her boyfriend – now ex-boyfriend – of 4 years, Ronald Weasley, in bed with none other than Pansy Parkinson. She could vividly recall the crazed shrieks and disgustingly sloppy noises coming from their – now his – bedroom as she returned home late from her job as a senior curator for the British Museum of Magical History, specializing in Magical Artefacts and Beings.

She could clearly remember the look on Ron's stupid face as she opened the door and leaned on the doorframe, constructing a mask of nonchalance she didn't know she had the ability to maintain whilst absolutely seething on the inside.

She saw his eyes grow wide with shock as Pansy continued to ride him like the whore she was, oblivious to the new body in the room.

She heard him swear and push the dark-haired girl off of him as he yelled things like "I'm sorry", "Don't leave", "It's not what you think".

She felt him grab her arm as she made towards the floo; first, begging her to stay with him, and, after refusing, blaming her for his infidelity.

"You don't treat me like a King like other girls do. I'm the bloody captain of the Chudley Cannons now - I deserve better! You're lucky I love you as much as I do. So you see, it's not really my fault – it's yours. But now you know, so just try harder and we'll make it wor-"

That was the last thing he said to her before she punched him square in the jaw and ran out.

Hermione's eyes flashed open and she realized she'd been sitting, thinking, for over half an hour. A tear ran down her cheek, and she lifted a finger to wipe it away.

What shocked Hermione the most about the whole ordeal was that she wasn't sad that they were over – no, she had thought about leaving him countless times before. But while what transpired was infuriating, awful and downright humiliating, the thing she was most sad about was the thought of being someone incapable of being loved.

Sure, she wasn't the most beautiful witch; her dark brown hair was average, her brown eyes – plain, her curvy body – very un-English, but she didn't think she was so bad.

No, she wasn't submissive and obedient like some witches were; she was tenacious, stubborn, argumentative and had a fiery temper to boot, but she liked to think it was… endearing.

Obviously, she wasn't a dunce – hell, she was the brightest witch of her age! But she hoped that there were some that weren't so intimidated by that.

Hermione found her thoughts were heading towards a downward spiral, which was not what she needed right now, so, before she could make herself feel any worse, she went to get her new book, Magical Earthenware of the Medieval Era, and finished her dinner.

Later that evening, after adding the last of the chocolate ganache and raspberry coulis to Ginny's desired flourless chocolate cake, Hermione went upstairs to her room. While she wasn't the type to normally fret about her appearance, she knew that tomorrow was important; not only for her two best friends, but for herself as well.

It would be the first time she faced the Weasley family, aside from Ginny, since the incident, and the only frame of reference Ginny gave her as to what she should wear was "something sexy". How utterly unhelpful…

As ruffled through her closet, looking for something - anything, she became increasingly frustrated. She wasn't completely incompetent when it came to fashion, but this was different; and there was only one person she could turn to.

A few seconds later she stuck her head through the floo.

"Blaise?"

"Who's the- Hermione? What's wrong?"

Blaise Zabini was a fellow curator at the museum, specializing in Historical Magical Attire and Cultures. The Zabinis had remained entirely neutral during the time of You-Know-Who, and since The Fall, Blaise and Hermione had become very good friends. On top of that, because of his Italian heritage and maddening success when it came to romance, there was no one she trusted more when it came to good taste in fashion or the art of seduction.

"Help me!"

An hour later, they were finally successful.

"Give them hell, tomorrow, cara mia, and floo me a picture of Weasley's mingin' face when he realizes just what he lost, alright?"

Giving her a peck on the cheek, he disapparated.

Finally feeling prepared for whatever the next day would bring, Hermione went to sleep, a smug smile on her face.