I've got classes during mornings and an internship during afternoons so I have difficulties on finding time to write but whenever I do have time I do write and as a proof to that was this chapter containing 15k+ words. yay!

Warning : Language, Innuendos and Bad Grammar.

Sweeping Disclaimer : All things related to HP universe are solely owned by JK Rowling and associates. The author doesn't gain any profit out of this and rightfully so. The author would like to remind that this is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and everything that is not associated in the HP universe are product of the author's imagination and are used fictitiously. If you noticed any resemblance to another story, events, places, or person, living or dead, and the author failed to cite/acknowledged it, please kindly notify the author for this lapse or error. I repeat, all rights are reserved to JK Rowling and associates.

. . .

The room was silent. But the silence was deafening. Only the scratching of quills on parchments, the random, rhythmic tapping of someone's foot on the floor, or a quill or a finger drumming on top of the desk, and frustrated sighs and other odd, muffled noises can be heard. But the figurative shout of agitating pressure of the competition was buzzing on my ears. It is getting on my nerves and I can't help but take a breath to calm myself down.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

A special timer keeps on ticking, hovering around the room above our heads, mocking us. It looks like an ordinary hourglass; only humongous (okay, that's perhaps a bit exaggerated) in size and, instead of sand, inside was a special kind of liquid, purple of colour. Each drop was hypnotizing and agonizing at the same time, making the moment all the more unpleasant. If suffering has a sound this was probably it.

I know I'm being overdramatic but, for Merlin's sake, cut me some slack! Okay, I'm talking to myself now. Not a good sign. This examination is definitely taking its toll on me.

Not that I wasn't prepared. As a matter of fact, I've been preparing for this for months –revising, researching and all that stuff. But the mocking feeling of dread when there's a possibility of me failing this chance of a lifetime keeps on bothering me.

Focus! I keep on telling myself like a mantra.

Mrs. Atkins, the invigilator, then decided to pace around the aisle that separates each desk in a row at least an arm span wide. The loud thumping of her high heels was disturbing the quiet, contributing its share of distraction to the rather fidgety feel of the room. And, it really is quite distracting –like, really distracting! – to my utter annoyance.

I heard a disgruntled scoff behind me. Thankfully, I wasn't the only one annoyed by the distracting sound. Then, I heard a banging noise, making me and everyone else jump and look around to its source.

"Didn't I say not to cheat or even attempt to move that neck, Mr. Sullivan?" screeched Mrs. Atkins, slamming the rolled up paper she was holding on Robert's assigned desk for the second time. "And all of you, eyes on your parchment! Even if you heard someone dying behind you – You. Shall. Not. Look. Understand?!"

Everyone then hurriedly moved back to their respective positions and resumed on answering the examination questionnaire. I barely heard Robert's whispered apology as I focused on reading the question:

"Witch A and Wizard B are next-door-neighbours and are known to be sworn enemies. Witch A's grandfather once planted a tree on the edge of their fenced property right next to Wizard B's. As the tree grew over time, it bended and stretched its wide branches downwards to Wizard B's wife's garden. Wizard B asked Witch A to remove the tree as it was destructing their property in which Witch A steadfastly refused to do so, for some sentimental reason. One day, Witch A discovered that the portion of the tree that outgrew towards Wizard B's side of the fence was already gone and its branches scattered on her property rather haphazardly. Could Witch A file a complaint against Wizard B? If so, what cases could it be? As a part (assumed) of Wizengamot what legal resolution(s)/advice(s) could you partake to resolve any filed complaint? . . ."

I sighed, contemplating what would my answer be and then looked up at the magical hourglass and panicked when I noticed that its upper bulb was almost halfway on being empty. The time seems to fly in a blink of an eye. Hastily scrawling my answer to the situation, I risked a glance to my other competitors through my peripheral vision without moving my neck.

I saw Veronica Squigglestone on my right, pouting her lips while intently looking on her parchment and Daniel Arsen on my left, scowling at the parchment in front of him while twirling his quill absently. Shaking my head, I willed myself again to focus and started on reading another test item.

Another stressful set of minutes later, Mrs. Atkins banged her sound block with a gavel, making everyone look at her distractedly, and pointed a wrinkly finger on the hourglass of which the upper bulb is now empty. "Time's up, I'm afraid."

Frowning, I stared as my parchment floated on the air alongside the others and systematically filed themselves on the old invigilator's desk.

I haven't even thoroughly checked all my answers yet!

"For the next course, you would be divided into two opposing teams. You are to research about the Mathilda Wartsy case, one of the old and most controversial cases previously heard by the High Court. Whichever group would be for or against and how will the lot of you would be group would be revealed during the day of the debate. A special Wizengamot council would be made to act as judges that would weigh the arguments you would put before them on the points of law at stake. We will send you an owl for the time and date," informed Mrs. Atkins disinterestedly as she finished gathering all the parchments. She then stood up and looked at us sharply. "I trust you all did well. If not, do your best to thoroughly impress us next time, for the final three would be chosen then after."

After she left the room, I released a sigh of relief that I didn't know I was holding. I think I did alright but I shouldn't ignore the possibility of failure. Nothing good happens if one decided to be entirely complacent after all. There should always be room for errors, so one could easily minimize it as much as possible.

"What do you reckon was the reason why they chose the Mathilda Wartsy case as a debate topic?" asked Ross who suddenly rushed in front of me and is now perched on my desk.

"I certainly have no idea." I answered honestly. "I don't even know who Mathilda Wartsy is."

"You don't?" asked a scandalized Ross incredulously. When I nodded in affirmation, he eyed me in disbelief. "You don't know Mathilda Wartsy at all? Good Merlin! Wicked Witch of Wickedville? Jacqueline the Jockey? Ring any bells?"

I shake my head in negative. I'm not really familiar with Wizarding celebrities –at least that's what I think Mathilda Wartsy is.

"Why, Hermione, Wartsy is like the goddess of Wizarding theatre arts," broken in Wanda, who I've just noticed to have had joined us. "Oh, am I right to assume you never saw any Wizarding play?"

"Sorry, no," I answered apologetically. Ross looked appalled, like I have personally insulted him. Wanda looked at me in pity.

"Why, darling, where have you been living the whole time?" asked Ross.

I'm tempted to answer that when I'm not in the muggle world, I'm mostly somewhere helping on trying to defeat Voldemort but I wisely kept my mouth shut while they continued looking at me like I have sprouted another layer of my rather bushy hair.

"I haven't really seen a Wizarding play," I affirmed again after a pregnant pause, a bit annoyed.

"But surely, you at least might have heard of one of her audio plays in the wireless. They do replay it in memory of her, y'know. Her in-distress voice could make any harden, cold-hearted death eater cry in sympathy of her apparent ill-fate." said Wanda exaggeratedly.

"Sorry, no, maybe I'll look her up later. You know, for some references." I said apologetically but then I got curious and asked, "What could have a celebrity do to make her case a debate worthy of Wizengamot? Is it a grave offense? Seriously, what had she done?"

"Mathilda Wartsy was verdict guilty of having an adulterous affair with another man," answered Ross casually. "Her husband was a very wealthy man and was therefore a very formidable wizard in the high society."

My forehead crinkled in bemusement. I actually find it totally unsatisfying of a reason to be deemed as Wizengamot worthy debate of a case. "That's it? I mean, there'd been a lot of cases involving infidelity. What made this particular case special to be worthy of a debate or discussion in the high court?"

"You need to know that the man Wartsy was having an illicit affair with was a Muggleborn, and that this was the starting phase of You-Know-Who on his path of becoming a tyrant. Her husband loved her so much that he didn't want her to be stoned to death. So instead he blamed the man, already dead at that time, mind, to had hypnotized and seduced Wartsy. And that it was the Muggle filth in him that made her did such act of infidelity. He even proposed to ban all Muggleborns from entering the Wizarding World like Salazar Slytherin once wished, to prevent Purebloods for doing wrong acts influenced by their supposed filth. Given her husband's influence, Purebloods started to clamour on banning Muggleborns but the ministry denied them of this making this one of the many reasons for most Purebloods to side with You-Know-Who, when he promised them that he will get rid of all Muggleborns and made the Wizarding World pure again."

So, they've shifted the blame to someone who's already dead and can't possibly defend himself and even attempted to shift all the blame to all Muggleborns in general. Lovely.

"Well that's kind of stupid, isn't it?" I asked, appalled. "Not to mention, unfair and totally idiotic."

Ross just shrugged and Wanda was tight-lipped. How can they expect me to defend such side with that kind of reason? What do they want to achieve with this?

"Well . . ." Ross drawled, seemingly at a loss for words. "That's what they want."

"Well that was a very stupid reason to side on Voldermort, don't you think?" I asked in disbelief, looking at the both of them in the eye, watching for their reaction. "But, perhaps, it doesn't matter how petty the reason is as long as they'd have an excuse, no matter how feeble and meagre it may be, to push their pathetic Pureblood ideals."

"Watch it, Granger," a voice behind me warned haughtily. I rolled my eyes, knowing well who the owner of the voice is. Turning around to face her, she continued, "Hornpuckle here is a Pureblood, whose great aunt was one of the forerunners of that –how did you put it? Oh, yes –'pathetic' Pureblood ideals," taunted Katherine with a raised eyebrow, her face filled with scorn that is deftly concealed with a saccharine smile.

I looked at Wanda, who's hanging her head low, not looking anyone in the eye. I felt my irritation rise with Katherine's insinuation. How dare she accuse Wanda of believing such ignorant, bigoted belief? She doesn't, does she? Of course, she doesn't. But I don't really know her that much to be entirely sure. But then again she never gave any indication that she's a bigoted Pureblood at all. I look at Wanda again and strengthen my resolve. Of course, she's not. She's my friend. That's proof enough.

"She's not her aunt," I shot back at Katherine. "She's brave enough to defy the ideals that were constantly shoved down her throat and stand for what she believe is right. She's not what her family is."

Katherine snorted prettily. Ugh, how can she do that? That's unfair!

I raised an eyebrow at her.

"Right," Katherine said mockingly. "Have fun making a fool of yourself with that."

I watch her flipped her silky hair and walked out of the room gracefully with Squigglestone and Rowlsen in tow, which I've just noticed were with her the whole time.

"Wow!" gushed Ross, who made an exaggerated clap that made me roll my eyes, apparently in awe. I looked at Wanda who still look ashamed and smiled at her. She smiled weakly back.

We decided to go to the Ministry Cafeteria to indulge ourselves a bit after the examination. We were just rounding from a corridor to the antechamber that leads to various rooms and offices used by the Wizengamot when we saw Warlock Meng Chang trying to molest her secretary by the commissionaire's corner.

Wanda groaned beside me. "He has no shame, hasn't he? An ancient tosspot who forgot that he should act his age and position."

"To be fair," interjected Ross. "He was apparently a very handsome wizard during his time. Witches apparently went crazy for him once upon a time."

"And when's that?" asked Wanda unkindly. "Eons ago?"

I snorted rather inelegantly while Ross let out a bark of laughter.

"I can't believe he's still part of the Wizengamot with that kind of behaviour," I said with a disgusted frown. "Just look how he leers at his secretary, very lascivious!"

"And to think he was so ancient, you would thought he would have developed a modicum of decorum by now," added Wanda disdainfully.

"Well, he's apparently very wise," said Ross diplomatically. "In fact, it was apparently Dumbledore who'd encouraged him to stay and keep his position in the high court ever since his family was murdered."

So, his family was murdered then? How come Ross knew stuff like this? I don't know why I felt a stab of pity for the old warlock, though. But then I saw him put his hand dangerously low on his poor secretary's behind. The poor witch looked absolutely uncomfortable and mortified.

Ugh! What a disgusting old pig!

"Well, I don't know what the professor was thinking or if he had momentarily lost his mind for that," I said cattily. "Just look where his hand is resting! That sure made me grateful he wasn't my mentor and that no one is. Though, I haven't seen Mrs. Hewitt for a while now."

"Oh, you haven't heard about it then?" asked Ross curiously. I looked at him quizzically then he clarified, "Warlock Hewitt was apparently accused of corruption or something. She was suspended now and would be subjected to an investigation."

We were just outside the Wizengamot antechamber and in a hallway to the lift when I stopped walking. That news made me stop, making the other two stop as well, looking at me pityingly.

What? Surely, that'd have to be untrue. I mean, Mrs. Hewitt can't be corrupt or something. Was she wrongfully accused? My mind is reeling in confusion. Surely, this couldn't be happening when I still needed her for the chance to have a spot in the Wizengamot. Oh, no! The Wizengamot! How could've I forgot? What would happen to me?

"But," I said, shocked, "how about me? I mean, she's my mentor, right? Who would advise me now?"

"Well," drawled Wanda. "It looks like it'd be Warlock Chang."

NO. Just. No.

Just then, as if on cue, a flying ministry memo poked me in the arm. Plucking it out in the air, I opened it and saw that it came from the Wizengamot Head Secretary's office. After reading it, I can't help but frown in apprehension. Wanda's guess had just been confirmed. Stupid Wizengamot!

Later that day, I find myself walking down Diagon alley. The weather was pretty chilly. The night sky overhead was covered with thick, dark clouds only allowing a portion of the moon to occasionally peek through. Almost all of the shops were already closed by now and the remaining few that were still open were just about to close as well, just entertaining a handful of customers who were still out for a rather late night shopping.

I am late –that, I'm quite sure of. I have been debating whether I should go or not for a considerable amount of time. I should've stayed in the Ministry and spend my time on more important matters but after my incessant moaning about the news earlier, Wanda and Ross, fed up, took it upon themselves to convince –well, coerce more like – me to attend today's occasion.

It's not as if my presence would be missed anyway, that's highly unlikely. See, I'm sort of a wallflower in every party that most people my age thought to be fun. Yes, they were my friends but it doesn't mean their obligated to enjoy my company, or maybe I'm just being too hard on myself. But, in the end, I decided to go anyway, just to avoid going home to a lonely house, which I've been doing a lot these days by staying late at work or doing literally anything just to pass the time, and I kind of promised Harry and Ginny that I'd be there. So, off I'd go.

Gripping my cloak and pulling it tighter into my now chilled body, I continue walking through the cobblestoned alley towards the new pub that Seamus owns. It is Seamus' birthday today. And usually every birthday of his is celebrated with bevvies and loud music. It started after the war and was usually held in a muggle disco club. He said that it's the apt place to celebrate another year of his life for it embodied him in a way; Wild and Fun, he claimed.

I don't like this kind of frivolity, in all honesty. I'd rather spend the night curled up in my bed or in the couch or anywhere in my flat that I find convenient lying about, reading a book or two leisurely, sipping a cup of tea or a mug of hot chocolate maybe. All this, while Ron grumbles on how boring he found the silence was or me catching him staring at me in that intense way of his that - I definitely had to take a grip! No sense on thinking about the past now.

Yes. No sense at all.

But my mind kept on wondering whether he'd be there tonight, though. It was him, after all, who convinces me to go on this kind of occasions most of the time. "It'd be fun, Hermione!" he'd say, or "Loosen up a bit, Hermione!", or sometimes it'd be, " We can live our lives the way we want now, Hermione. How about sprinkling it with a bit of fun?"

Of course, I'd relent afterwards. How could I not? Just seeing that sparkle in his eyes filled with a mischievous ardour could always reduce me weak on my knees. That dimple on the left side of his cheek –which he hated because it apparently makes him look "un-manly", that sometimes makes me scowl because I secretly adore it – gracing his face while his lips tugs upward in an enigmatic yet seductive smile, as if he knew all along that I'd go with him anyway without him asking me in the first place. It's as if he loves the logistics of convincing me, on making me relent and do his bidding whatever it may be (which, I always made sure, should be entirely legal and, if possible, strictly within the confines of valid reasoning). I like that he's thoughtful enough to ask me first before deciding for the both of us.

It is one of those times, where I knew I'd fallen deeply in love. It's as if I was under his spell –whether he's aware of the power he have over me or not, I'm not quite sure – hypnotizing me, alluring me in a blissful daze. Like a magnet to an iron, like an Niffler to a gold, like a moth to a flame, like a sperm to – Er. . . you get the general idea .

A giggle escaped from my mouth, which I tried to stifle by biting both of my lips in between my teeth. Sometimes, to my absolute inner mortification, I'd caught myself derailed in a train of thought where Ron's coarse influence on me is palpable. And, as if adding salt to the wound, I also had my fair share of unconscious utterance of cringe-worthy and severely mortifying remarks I've got from him through verbal osmosis. Good thing, no one can read my mind, and that I have, most of the time, successfully kept myself from spewing such rude and reprehensible remarks.

Looking up, I saw the sign where the name of the still newly opened pub –which I believe would never cease to make my eyes roll – was engraved with silhouettes of two dancing rather provocatively, scantily-clad women on the side: Wizards' Ardour.

Pushing the door of the pub open, a tinkle of the chime situated above the door announced my entrance. I took in the serene, enticing sound coming from the harmonious blending of a violin, a saxophone, and a grand piano playing a wizarding classic piece entitled: Icarus' fall, in a corner which was charmed to play themselves, giving off a rather cosy and erotic ambiance to the room. Several patrons were scattered around, looking quite content with the peaceful atmosphere while sipping their respective spirits.

I can't help the amused smile from grazing my face, thinking how the place seemed to be the exact opposite of where the real celebration is happening right now. I went to the barmaid and, with a polite smile, asked for the 'key'. The barmaid, whose name I knew to be Laura, smiled back at me and handed over an empty bottle of wine, which I took gratefully. I then went to a room in the back part of the pub that has a neon muggle signage hanging on its door that says: Only Authorized Personnel Are Allowed Inside.

Pushing the door open, I entered a room that's only a bit larger than of an average pantry. Carefully closing the door, I noticed a huge wooden liquor cabinet that is almost already filled with various empty bottles of alcoholic beverages. I inserted the bottle of wine I was holding to one of the empty racks. A swift red light swished then vanished and the shelf soon begun to rattle and then lowered itself slowly to the ground revealing another room that is quite dark.

Stepping inside, I was assaulted with a loud, banging noise and laser lights that almost blinded me. Adjusting my vision, I noticed a rather large crowd dancing on the dance floor, and wondered just how many guests are present and if it's even possible for someone to know such a large crowd. Looking around and paving my way through the throng of dancing bodies, I soon spotted my friends who were huddled on a corner. They were seated on three leather couches that were arranged closely in an incomplete rectangle surrounding a small, rectangular table that already has several glasses with drinks on it, a selection of finger foods and a bottle of firewhiskey, some beers and other alcoholic beverages on top.

It was Parvati who saw me first. With a smile, she waved at me and motioned for me to come and sit with them. I saw Lavender, Luna, Dean, Neville, Anthony Goldstein, Hannah Abbot and Parvati's twin, Padma, sitting together. They looked relaxed and were obviously having the time of their lives, while they happily talked and laughed with each other.

I tried to hide the frown of disappointment that threatens to appear on my face upon knowing that the people I was expecting to be there weren't there yet, or worse, won't even come. I stopped on my track, hesitating whether this is a good idea at all. Don't get me wrong, alright. They were all my friends. It's just that none of them are close to me enough to make me loosen up a bit. I'm a bit uptight, see, or so what most people say about me. I have half a mind on turning back and just go back home. The problem is how to do that without looking rude or anything worse.

"Glad you made it," said a deep voice from behind me which made me stiffen in anticipation. I would know that voice anywhere.

Turning around, my eyes meet Ron's. And for a moment everything became a blur, as if my vision was of a lens of a muggle camera, focusing only on its subject, which in my case was Ron. And, Oh, Merlin, was he beautiful. Like a picturesque, solitary rose amongst a sea of dandelions in a vast meadow. His eyes, an electric blue of hue, were penetrating, looking at me with a rather intense gaze. Studying me curiously, looking a bit hesitant and relieved. His unruly hair took the changing colours of the random beams of light from the laser light but somehow still manages, however barely, to give the illusion of as if it was on fire. The shadows contoured his face, emphasizing his prominent jaw and high cheek bones, giving him a bit of a dark, mysterious yet enticing aura. The top few buttons of the fitted, dark blue oxford shirt he was wearing were undone. His sleeves were rolled up carelessly.

He looked like a hot mess.

I might have stared for far too long for he let out a fake, loud cough and gave me an awkward, tight-lipped smile. Blinking back to reality, I have responded in kind. I thanked the heavens that the room was a bit dark for I am sure I'm blushing something awful.

"Er, hi," said Ron a bit unsurely, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Hello," I said timidly, biting my lower lip. I felt the warm heat from my cheeks creeping down my neck and I willed myself to relax. We both stood there, staring at each other, unsure of what to do. What should someone say in this kind of situation? I can feel a prickling sensation, making the hair on the back of my neck stand, and I knew then that some of, if not all, our friends were looking at us.

This is embarrassing.

"Well, we're looking a bit underdressed, eh?" said Ron teasingly.

I would've appreciate the attempt for levity had it not for the fact that he had commented on my attire – which is me in just my work robes , by the way – out of all things. So, I scowled in annoyance. I wasn't really sure on coming so I didn't make an effort of dressing up. But with his comment, I felt rather self conscious and wished I have at least made the effort.

Ron, noticing my annoyance, grinned in amusement, and said, "Now, now, there's no need for the long face. You still look fine. I'm sure you'll still look pretty even if you're wearing rags or anything worse."

He said it so offhandedly that, again, I found myself thanking the heavens that we were in a dark place for I'm sure I'm now blushing profusely yet again. Leave it to Ron to turn an insult to a compliment or compliment you through insulting you or whatever.

I give him a weak, shy smile which made him smile goofily back.

"Nice of you to finally show yourself, mate!" exclaimed a voice from somewhere, then suddenly Ron was thumped in the back rather hard by the Boy-Who-Lived, successfully saving us from the awkward yet heated conversation.

"Yeah, yeah," said Ron, waving a hand dismissively, his eyes were now scanning the place, looking out for possible security threats as he and Harry usually does ever since they've became Aurors. "Mr. Granger can only taught me about muggle weapons that much. Bit mental, he is! Was actually considering on making both of us enrolled in Parko [Parkour] training or whatever that rot is called. I mean all that jumping, running, and climbing would sure break him a bone or two. I mean, no offense, Hermione, but your dad is no longer on his prime, you know, but don't tell him I said that."

I smiled at him, amused. He and my father have developed some form of a relationship when my father expressed his desire to change his profession and become a soldier. He claimed he wanted to find himself. My mother claimed it to be a form of a Midlife Crisis. But I know it's rooted from the knowledge that I became a war veteran in such a young age and it happened behind their backs. I saw the pain on my father's eyes after he thought that he had failed to protect me as his child and I know that this was his way of coping with that news. How he came up with the logic of him becoming a soldier would make him somehow able to protect me, I would never know.

Of course, I disapprove of that notion rather vehemently. But, as Ron had pointed out, I am my father's daughter. I apparently inherited my hard-headedness from him. So, Ron took the liberty to offer my father some company, to keep an eye on him for me. They've hit it off since then. My father acquainted Ron on the days that he is free off of work to the various muggle weapons, customs, and other artefacts that Ron would later complain to me on how annoying he finds it to be but I know deep inside he actually enjoyed every second of it.

He gave me a conspiratorial wink that made my heart flutter, and then looked around the place once again. "Where's Ginny?" asked Ron, addressing Harry.

Harry shrugged while trying his best to appear unfazed to the shameless gawking and usual pointing on his direction by some people of this shindig. "She said she needs to go visit the loo."

Ron nodded and looked at Harry then asked, "How long have you been here, mate?"

"About an hour," answered Harry. He then turned to me and smiled. "I'm glad you came, Hermione. I was a bit convinced that the two of you won't be coming."

So they were here that long? How come I didn't notice them?

"Why won't we?" asked Ron, distracting me from my thoughts, arching an eyebrow at him. Harry gave him a pointed look then looked meaningfully at me. Ron scoffed then gave a curt nod to Neville who was at the couch where everyone else was seated, then looked back to Harry and said, "Well, we're here now."

I sensed Ron looking at me, making me look right back at him. I saw longing and sadness dance across his eyes which faded just as fast as it came.

"How about we move our nice little arses and sit with the rest of them lot," said Ron suddenly, successfully hiding the fleeting emotion that crossed his face just a while ago, and pointedly ignoring my look of disapproval for his crass language. "I don't fancy standing here for the rest of the night unless, of course, the two of you do."

"Merlin, no, I've been standing for Merlin knows how long," denied Harry. "Ginny's going bonkers for dancing. I think my limbs going to fell off."

"You've danced?" asked Ron incredulously. "Has anyone been injured?"

Harry, annoyance though apparent, playfully answered, "None that I'm aware of."

Together, we walked towards the rest of our friends gathered together at the corner of the pub. There was a loud greeting that ensued, and then I found myself seated in between Luna and Parvati, to my great dismay. Ron was seated on the couch across me with Dean and Anthony while Harry settled himself on the adjacent couch where Lavender is seated.

"Hey! Hey! Hey! Look who's late?" Seamus exclaimed a while later, coming towards us with a huge smile.

"Sod off, you mighty wanker!" Ron replied, standing up. He gave Seamus a half hug and a rather hard thumping on the back. "Happy birthday, mate."

I stood up as well and gave Seamus a peck on the cheek, greeting him as well.

Seamus decided to sit with us, joining Ron and Dean on giving Anthony, who was holding a drink in each hand, explicit advice on his drunken confession of his lover's disturbing insinuation of her openness for a threesome, making Neville blush and Harry guffaw.

"Oh, that's probably why you're double fisting now, mate," said Seamus with a chortle. "You secretly want to but you wanted two witches instead of you doing at it with your witch and another bloke!"

Anthony scowled and vehemently denied Seamus' weird drunken analogy. He then swallowed the two alcohols on his hands consecutively as if it was nothing making the wizards cheered.

Honestly, by the way this lot were behaving you would wonder if they indeed are grown up wizards.

"I think your girlfriend might have drank a Palavering Harbinger infested aubergine shake," interjected Luna wistfully, loud enough for everyone to stare, perplexed, at her. "They like to swim in an aubergine shake, don't you know? But sometimes they do infest in tap water. Well, they do have their preferences. I think the firewhiskeys are the preferred beverage for tonight. They make the drinker feel impervious to satisfaction and contentment, see."

"What doesh that creature -wait, ish that a creature? An inshect, perhapsh?" asked Anthony curiously. He's obviously very drunk judging by the lazy blinking of his dazed eyes and flushed face but he managed not to entirely slur his words.

Luna nodded, looking at Anthony oddly, as if she's bewildered that Anthony doesn't know what she's talking about. "They're colourful creatures that look like worms with tiny, netted leather wings. But Daddy reckons they can camouflage. Sort of a combination of -"

"What doesh that g-got to do with my girlfriend'sh barmy threeshome inclination?" Anthony cut off, looking thoughtful and bewildered, making the wizards beside him snicker, Neville looks curious, while Harry pursed his lips to stifle a smile and the other witches giggled.

"Why, Anthony, they might have been the cause of your girlfriend's discontentment of your bedroom performance to seek another form of sexual pleasure," said Luna seriously. At this everyone broke to a raucous laughter bar Luna, Anthony and I. I gave Anthony a sympathetic glance upon seeing his beet-red face, obviously humiliated. "They make the victim feels like they should have more, see. Like this loud music for example. We can all enjoy the music with a lesser decibel but we want to feel the music to the highest intensity so we turn the volume up to its full blast then the pleasure is at the highest possible scale. That's might be the case with your girlfriend. I think she wants the highest intensity," Luna added solemnly.

"Are you saying I'm unsatisfying?" cried an outraged Anthony.

"No," said Luna calmly, smiling dreamily at Anthony. "Your girlfriend might be dissatisfied but does not instantly mean you're unsatisfying. You might be just someone else's satisfaction. And, besides, that is not really entirely the reason, is it? As I've said, you might want to check her drinks for Palavering Harbingers. Nasty creatures that they are!"

And Luna just had to ruin it by mentioning an imaginary creature. Typical.

Anthony blinked at her blankly. The others laughed then the wizards returned to teasing him and giving him another set of advice that includes various impossible sexual positions for three. All the while, I've made my disapproval known by clucking my tongue and interjecting in their conversation every once in a while to contradict a ludicrous 'suggestion' or 'advice' by giving a logical analysis making Ron sit beside me to keep the other wizards from telling me how annoying I am being. The twin witches and Hannah had long ago abandoned us to dance on the dance floor dragging a reluctant Dean with them.

"Godric, help me!" Ginny exclaimed breathlessly all of a sudden, coming out of the blue from somewhere in the pub, looking annoyed. Her eyes were frantic, her hair dishevelled as if she was harassed by someone. She might have noticed our questioning looks and said by way of an answer, "Someone attacked me!"

Harry leap out of his seat in a flash, his eyes alert and jaws set tight, looking ready to pounce on anyone.

"Who? Where?" Asked Harry sharply, coming to Ginny's aid.

Ginny's eyes widen when she noticed Harry's reaction. I look around and noticed that the rest of our group were frowning with concern and curiosity.

"That prat," said Ginny with a pout, pointing a finger somewhere.

All eyes followed the direction Ginny's finger was pointing and we saw a laughing George and Lee Jordan. They might have felt our gazes and they turned to look at us. They gave us a small wave, eyes filled with mirth, then pointed upwards.

I gasped. Horrified.

Up in the ceiling, above the sea of dancing people, was a man. His head was bloated like a balloon. It might have been the reason he was floating up in the air. He was flailing his arms, thrashing wildly. Then I saw bats coming from somewhere in his head, I couldn't really make out since he was situated upwards where the meagre light of the room couldn't reach. He might have been shouting but I cannot hear it out in the blaring music.

"W-what?" I spluttered in horror. I heard Ron guffawed and was saying how 'brilliant' he found the idea of a wizard floated up in the air in between bouts of laughter. "Ginny, why –?"

"Oh, save me the lecture, Hermione," Ginny cut off cattily. "That man deserves it for trying to grope me!"

"That man did what?" Harry asked darkly.

"You heard me," answered Ginny tartly. "Why do they always do that? As if telling me that they're my fan would make me allow them to cop a feel!"

"Well," interjected Luna. "People are like that, I suppose, they either hate or want what everyone else wants and sometimes they think that they're entitled to have what they want."

"But not everyone else wants me, Luna," Ginny shot back matter-of-factly, arching an eyebrow.

Luna looked at her thoughtfully, tilting her head slightly. "That may be true but most people think they should."

Ginny looked at Luna like she thought the other girl had gone another level of madness, which is not an entirely surprising reaction when it comes to Luna. I thought about what Luna just said and realize that she has a point. Since Harry is extremely revered in the Wizarding World, somehow wizards would be jealous with him at one point or something and would want to be him in a way or two.

"I think Luna's right," I voiced out, shifting the attention to me from Luna, who smiled at me dreamily. "Everyone else wants Harry or wants what Harry wants, and Harry has you, so to a degree they would want you too and or maybe it's because you're a famous Quidditch player. There are people who develop an unhealthy obsession towards celebrities, you know. They imagine that you are theirs and misinterpret every single thing you do to justify the notion they built inside their head that you want them as well. It could develop to a serious mental disorder if not prevented. It would do you good if you take the necessary precautions –"

"Right!" interrupted Ginny. "Well, that made what I just did seemed just then."

"What?" I asked blankly.

"It's a good thing you aren't that imperceptive, Hermione," said Luna with a wistful smile. I looked at her, flabbergasted. Did she just say what I think she just said? I saw Harry and Ginny trying to hold back their mirth and it made me scowled, disgruntled. "It's such a nice news to know that for someone who has been infested with Wrackspurts," Luna added, looking intently at somewhere at the top of my head. "Judging with that large number of Wrackspurts, though, it's imperative for you –" she then looked at Ginny, "and Ginny too, to pass along the chain letter before the Wrackspurts got you." Luna then reached out and started to wave her hands to shoo something off of the top of my head.

I stifled an eye roll as I tried to get Luna to stop her ridiculous display of 'ridding Wrackspurts off the top of my head'. I looked at Harry helplessly, who's now doubled over with laughter, then to Ginny, who though obviously amused still look quite put out.

Ginny just shrugged dismissively and looked at Ron, who's now sitting back lazily on the couch in a four figure position, an arm spread on the backrest and is nursing a lager on one hand, and is having a conversation with Lavender, Lavender talking animatedly while Ron was nodding and smiling at her. Hmmp!

Perhaps feeling his sister staring daggers at him, he turned his head to look at Ginny making Lavender stop her babbling, tilting his head questioningly. Thankfully, Luna has now stopped fending off imaginary creatures off of me and decided she wanted to dance and got up to dance in the dance floor dragging a reluctant Neville with her.

"Tell Parkinson she's an abominable bitch!" Ginny hissed loudly.

I clucked my tongue in disapproval. Seriously, calling a witch a bitch is uncalled for, even if said witch deserves it. But then again, there's always an exception to the rule so I should give Ginny that.

"What have she done now?" asked Ron, looking completely uninterested, as if he had heard his sister complained about this a lot which I know for a fact is true.

"Bump into her in the loo. She's being her unpleasant self as usual. Why is she here anyway?" Ginny asked irritably.

"I asked Seamus," Ron said with a shrug, then turned back his attention to Lavender.

I scowled. What could have been Lavender been talking about that made him that interested.

"And why's that may I ask?" demanded Ginny.

Ron looked at her again, now obviously getting annoyed, "Because I wanted to, nosey."

Ginny made an incredulous laugh. Perhaps, she's a bit drunk. A drunken Ginny is never good news. I tuned out from whatever the two siblings were bickering about and scanned the room, in search for the subject of Ginny's ire, and sure enough I found her sitting with a blonde that looks to be Astoria and some wizards in a table far across ours. Narrowing my eyes, I stared at her while I drink my second –or is it my third? –glass of firewhiskey. Why am I drinking this anyway? It made my throat burn!

Opting to drink a gillywater this time, I resumed staring at Pansy Parkinson. She was wearing an off-shoulder black robe and was laughing at something one of her companion might have said. Then Astoria pointed at something I can't make out from Pansy's behind making all of them to look at it. Then I saw her turn her head and looked at our table and our gazes met. Even from afar, I can see quite clearly the annoying smirk that tug from her very red lips. Holding my gaze, I saw her stood up and walked towards our direction.

Ignoring her, I looked back at Ron who has now resumed talking with Lavender and I noticed Ginny was now sitting on Harry's lap, they were whispering something with one another with their faces mere inches away from each other. Obviously, someone, probably Harry, had successfully averted the apoplectic row to happen between the two Weasleys.

My gaze turned back to Ron as I studied his profile while he was talking to Lavender. I'd caught a word or two from their conversation every once in a while but nothing really registered on my mind as I continue studying Ron, mesmerized. I missed him so much. It had been months since the last time I had the opportunity to look at him this way and this close.

The first time I met him, I never thought of him to be handsome. Sure, I found his hair quite nice and his eyes were rather lovely, but beyond that, I found nothing about him attractive. He was gangly, very mean, he doesn't study well, he was rude, he ate too much and he, for some reason my younger self couldn't quite understand, hated me, made fun of me, and thought I was a nightmare and I hated him for it. After he and Harry saved me from the troll, though. I found out that he is rather brave and is quite funny. He can be nice too, to my great surprise. Then, unconsciously, I started noticing him more, in ways a friend shouldn't do. I found his freckles to be adorable, the way his deep red brows knit in concentration as he consider his next move when he played Wizard's Chess which I found to be quite endearing, and then during third year I realized that he was rather cute. Of course, he was nowhere near attractive by most witches' standard back then, and I selfishly thanked Merlin for it. Their gazes would halt when they got to his pointed, long nose. His high cheekbones that were sprinkled with freckles made him more mean-looking than he really is and as he was the tallest in our year, his movement were somehow awkward. By fifth year, he started filling out, though. His thick, deep red brows were arched strongly complementing his vivid, catastrophic blue eyes. He started to have that kind of face that would make you look twice and would make you stop in your tracks because you were sure he wasn't nearly that attractive before. I remembered the way he would meanly arched a brow to the witches that he'd caught staring at him, mistaking their dreamy faces to be mocking, malicious gazes. By sixth year, I started hearing snippets of conversations about other witches' opinion of Ron's appearance, to my great annoyance. They too noticed that he had started to grow on his features. Quidditch practice suited him quite nicely, giving him muscles to help him be fit and slowly got rid of his rather gangly figure, and his height complemented this and made him that more appealing.

I watched, mesmerized, as he ran a hand through his hair then took a hearty sip of the lager he was nursing in his other hand. I've always love his hair.

"I love your hair," I said absently.

Ron curiously turned his head to look at me. His brows were knitted in obvious disbelief and confusion, and then he shook his head in amusement and smiled at me fondly. "Merlin, you're drunk."

"No, I'm not," I denied. He pursed his lips to hide his obvious amusement about something I've said. I narrowed my eyes at him. I'm not even being funny. Why was he laughing at me? He puckered his lips to calm himself and again annoyingly shook his head, looking at me like I was doing something adorable.

I stared at his lips. I love his lips, too. I love its shape. I love how soft it feels every time I kiss him. Oh, Merlin! I love his kisses, too. I miss kissing him. I miss kissing his soft lips. His cheeks. His jaw. Ooh, what's that on his jaw? I put a finger on his jaw to caress his stubble.

Ron, who has again resumed talking to Annoying Lavender –Annoying Lavender! Huh, how hilarious! –looked at me again perplexedly, rather startled. Why was he looking at me like that? I just want to touch and study the short red gold strands of hair on his jaw.

Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw Annoying Lavender halt his annoying babbling again and looked at us rather awkwardly. She looked a bit uncomfortable. Maybe it is because I am now leaning on Ron's arm and my hand is now cupping his cheek. Was she jealous? Hmmm, serves her right. I shot her a smug, triumphant smirk. No more talking to her now. Her eyes widen and awkwardly got up, perhaps taking the hint, and said an excuse about going to the loo or something. I don't really care. I furrowed my brow, why am I being mean to her? Lavender's nice. She can be vapid at times but I shouldn't be mean to her. But, honestly, I could care less about her now. I nuzzled my face to Ron's neck, inhaling his scent. Oh, I missed smelling him, too. I felt Ron stiffen next to me.

I looked up at him and our eyes met. He wore an expression I couldn't quite decipher. My thumb was drawing circles on his jaw and I can feel the prickly roughness of his face, "You haven't shaved. You've got stubble," I pointed out.

"Yeah," whispered Ron breathlessly. I watch, hypnotized, as he gulped making his Adam's apple bob up and down. "Sorry, I know you don't like it."

I looked at him with knitted brows. "It's not that I don't like it," I whispered back gently. "I like touching it with my hands but I don't like it when you kissed or nuzzled me with it because it burns."

"Right," said Ron in a daze and I nodded absently then rested my head to his shoulder, snaking my arms to his chest and snuggled against him. I missed this.

"Hem hem," I heard someone cleared their throat behind me. I looked around and noted the put out expression of Ginny as I caught a fleeting glance of her profile. I scowled when I saw who it was that interrupted us.

"What?" I snapped rather rudely.

Pansy Parkinson rolled her eyes and ignored both of mine and Ginny's disgruntled expressions. I saw Astoria beside her gave me an uneasy smile.

"She's here," said Pansy, talking to Ron.

What? I looked at Ron for some clarification but he just nodded at Pansy.

"Alright then," said Ron, easing himself up off the couch we're sitting on. "Let's go." He then smiled apologetically at my confused expression and said, "Duty calls."

He then walked away with Pansy and company. I saw Astoria took Ron's arm and heard her telling him how she was enjoying the party even though it's not posh enough for her liking.

I heard Ginny released a disgusted snort after they were out of ear shot making me look at her. "The Pureblood Squad. What a joke!"

I raised an eyebrow at her, insulted in behalf of Ron. "In case you've forgotten, it is your brother who's the captain of the squad you're calling a joke!"

Ginny looked at me in alarm then sighed. "I don't mean it like that. It's just that, I just still don't like that Ron has to be a captain of a team that bigoted people made up. We're not even sure if they got Ron's back. What if something awful happen and no one I trust enough is there for him. I still don't understand how and why he actually trusted them now."

"I know," I answered with a sigh, looking back at Ron's retreating form that's now surrounded by wildly dancing bodies of witches and wizards. "He said that he just does. We should just trust him, I think."

I tried to sound sure and confident but I don't think I managed to do so. In fact, I'm still a bit wary about the team Ron's assigned to lead.

After the war and after Ron and I retrieved my parents back from Australia, Ginny and I decided to head back to Hogwarts and finish our studies while Harry and Ron jump-started their Auror training. Ron had barely passed the whole Auror training programme because he tried to help George to get the shop running back on track at the same time. Ron reckons that without Harry and Neville's help, he most probably would fail the whole Auror training. What perplexed us till now is why Pansy Parkinson, Astoria Greengrass, and other known wizards coming from 'Pureblood elite' families joined the Auror programme the following year. Since the war diminished the Auror office of its members, the training was cut short for applicants for the next three years after the war to 'replenish' the office. That means, the programme became thrice as hard to pass than normal which is saying something about the new fully trained Aurors. Unsurprisingly, Harry graduated with flying colours while Ron was just happy to graduate and at the same time managed to help George in the shop as well.

When Harry got assigned to captain the Junior Auror Alpha team, or the Auror Elites, Ron had been extremely happy to be included in that squad. To our general surprise, however, the Auror Office was forced by the higher ups, to the minister's great dismay, to create a group of Aurors composed only of Purebloods upon the request in aide of legislation by other Pureblood citizens. Since, most Pureblood can't still let go of their Blood Purity vendetta, to avoid any future disagreements, since most Purebloods expressed their worry of the ministry favouring half-bloods and muggleborns, for obvious 'discriminatory reasons', over them. The ministry granted the legislative request.

I still think that the minister should have vetoed against this legislative move. I remembered how the papers had a field day about this issue. The Quibbler published a lot of conspiracy theories against this while the rest of the papers lauded the decision. To still be in control, the Minister decided to pull Ron out of the Auror Elites and assigned him as the captain of the Junior Auror Ansuz team, or commonly known as the 'Pureblood Squad', since he was close to the Minister, a Pureblood with a respectable lineage, and a part of the 'Golden Trio'. I remembered how outraged we all were with this 'strategic' move. Ginny and I, in particular, still hold our grudges with the minister for this but deep down we understood that it is a necessary move. Thankfully, there was no further objection to this rather deft move by the Minister. Politics takes a lot of power manipulation skills!

"You know, I think Ron is a great leader for them," put in Harry. "They don't really listen to non-Pureblood leaders. Parkinson's still a bit nasty to us but she's actually a much better version of her schoolgirl self and a lot different from her attitude from when she started training. Come to think of it, it all started after their first mission. I still don't get why they don't fully disclose what really happened that time."

I groaned. Here we are again. "Not this again, Harry."

"What?" Harry said almost defensively. "You know it's true –" I rolled my eyes. Here we go again. –"No, really, they did do the mission report but I think they withheld vital information. Information about their capture, about Rowena McKaine and Cain Adamson's death. What I don't get is why. Why won't Ron tell us? He always tell me almost about everything," he added sadly.

I saw Ginny draw comforting circles on Harry's back and I took the glass of firewhiskey Ginny put down on the table.

"I know that. I know he wasn't really telling us all about what really happened on that abysmal mission," I said looking at both Harry and Ginny then took a dainty sip of the firewhiskey. I grimaced as the alcohol burned my throat. "But you know how depressed they all are after they came back. I don't think it's something someone would want to relive again to people who were not really there with them."

Harry looked away and Ginny gave me a weak smile. "Hermione's right, Harry," said Ginny gently. "Sometimes it's hard to tell someone something, even if you want to, if you're protecting them or someone else."

Harry and I look at her curiously. "You think, Ron might have promised someone in their group to withhold some information?" asked Harry with knitted brows.

Ginny just shrug. "Maybe. Maybe not. Who would know, really?" Ginny said then snaked her arms across Harry's chest to wrap him in a comforting embrace. "But, I guess, if that someone is ready enough then Ron might disclose us the real story. You know Ron, he's much better in keeping someone's secret than me," she added with a laugh.

Too right, I thought bitterly. I still remember knowing of her spilling my secret about kissing Viktor Krum just to spite Ron. Ugh! I can't help but still feel embittered about that. I know I shouldn't hold that against her after all this time but still!

"Ooh, who'sh tshat hot witch Ron'sh tshalking to?" asked an approaching Seamus to our general direction rather giddily, he looked thoroughly drunk. When had he left our table? "I shtill reckon I should've gone through the whole Auror thing, y'know. Aurorsh got all the hot witshes! And all tzhey have to do ish show their goddamn bash –no, bazz –no, bulge. . . " he then stopped confusedly, perhaps searching for the right word.

"You mean, badge?" supplied Ginny helpfully.

"Yeah, yeah, thash right!" exclaimed Seamus loudly. "Hey, Ginny," he then called out extending his index finger in the air, as if to ask someone to hold on for a while, while he swayed on his feet a bit. "Do you want to see my badge," he added with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows and laughed.

The innuendo wasn't lost on Harry, however, and his already flushed face turned a shade darker. "Sod off, Seamus, you're drunk!"

I gulped down the rest of my firewhiskey and to avoid any brawl if Seamus kept on putting his foot on his mouth, I asked Seamus, "What do you mean, Seamus? Who's Ron talking to?"

Seamus looked at me confusedly then tilted his head as if he has no idea what I was talking about then his face lit up in recognition. Suddenly he started talking clearly, to my surprise, "Oh, remember that cute witch our year with that heart-shaped face and really pouty lips? I remembered how Ron, Dean and me keeps wondering how deep her dimples are during third year. Merlin, I still remembered how I liked looking at her back when she's not wearing tha' bulky robes ya' witches wore. I remembered daring Dean to ask her to the Yule Ball but the wanker chickened out! That was hilarious, really!"

Umm, what? He was suddenly talking so fast he almost sounded like he was talking in gibberish.

"Uh, Seamus? Who are you talking about?"

"Turpin!" Seamus exclaimed. "Rosa Turpin. Or was that Mina?"

"You mean Lisa? Lisa Turpin?" supplied Harry in which Seamus answered with a nod and a finger gun salute indicating that Harry got it right.

"Oh, isn't she that haughty, stuck up girl in Ravenclaw?" asked Ginny curiously.

"Honestly, Ginny, Lisa isn't stuck up. We've got classes together in Ancient Runes and Arithmancy and she's nice enough," I reprimanded.

Ginny just shrug her shoulders unabashedly. "Don't really know that, do I? That's what just I heard from the other girls at school."

"Well, you, of all people, should know better than relying to what you just heard from others, don't you think?" I said with a scoff.

Ginny just held her hands in the air in mock surrender. I rolled my eyes at her childishness and took a sip with the firewhiskey I've refilled in my glass. I think I should stop drinking now. This would be the last glass for tonight.

"So," drawled Seamus sensing the awkward atmosphere but we then noticed Anthony tried to sit up using the table as leverage from being sprawled down the floor. Was he there the whole time? Merlin, he looked really drunk. Then he passed out again and his head fell to the floor with a thump. I heard him groan in pain then took Harry's leg that was just near his shoulder and kissed his feet, mumbling something that sounded like 'I love you'. Harry tried to get him off of him but he appeared to have a firm grasp on him. I heard Seamus coughed to get our attention back. "Anyway, as I was saying, why's Ron talking to her? Did they know each other?"

How can we possibly know that? We're together here the whole time. What an idiot! I tried to calm myself. The firewhiskey seemed to bring out the bitch in me.

"Yeah," panted Harry, successfully pulling his leg off of Anthony's grasp, who has now rolled face down on the floor. "She's one of the Criminal Law Legislators, I guess. Pretty hard to miss her when she's mostly in the DMLE and Auror Office to do whatever it is that she does."

"She's a DMLE solicitor, Harry," I corrected. "She's part of the DMLE sub-unit composed of solicitors to overlook and made sure that Magical Law Enforcers, HitWizards, Aurors and the rest under that Department have enough laws to protect them, restrict them and the likes."

"Oh, bureaucracy!" mock exclaimed Seamus exaggeratedly. "Anyway, Harry, mate, can you, you know, hook us up together?"

I never heard what Harry might have replied to Seamus' request for my eyes were now glued to the bar's counter. It was situated in a platform a few feet above the floor on the centre-most side of the mirror-tiled wall. Specifically to the two figures over there who were obviously flirting!

What in Merlin's name is he doing? I screeched in my head. Oh, why was he grinning at her like that? Oh, I'm going to rip that smile off his face, he'll see!

Funny, they were considerably far from us and I could still make out his face. It's like my eyes adapted a hawk-like sight.

I watched as Ron tilted his head rather sensually and was grinning madly at Lisa Turpin who's making flirty gestures with her lips and eyes. I felt my blood pressure went high in rage as I saw Lisa's hand touched Ron's arm in an obviously not so friendly way. I clenched my fists tightly and closed my eyes to stop myself from making a scene.

I don't know why I'm even acting like this. It's as if we're still together.

I tore my eyes away from the lascivious scene and roughly grabbed the bottle of firewhiskey, uncorking it. I momentarily wondered if a spell was cast on it or was it just another bottle for there seemed to be an abundant supply of it as I poured myself a glassful. I attempted to drink it bottoms up, forgetting how bad it burns and I ended up choking and spluttering as I tried in vain to ease the burning sensation on my throat managing to spill the rest of the content to my white top and to the floor as I loosen my hold of the glass in my hand.

I just wanted to scream. Then cry. Cry then throttle or better yet hex Ron for still having the ability of making me feel this way.

Ginny was quickly on my side asking me what's wrong, helping me to lessen the damage I've done on my top with a hanky and then muttered a 'scourgify' on my top as I try to tell her through a raspy voice that I am fine. It's the state of my heart she should be asking for if there's something wrong. Because there is. And I hate that I shouldn't be feeling this way 'cause I chose this. First, there's Katherine, then Lisa, who would be next? How many witches would I watch Ron flirt with before he decides that he had finally chosen someone to replace me completely? Would I want that? Should I choose on standing firm on my decisions and pursue my dreams for the marginalized beings or should I not? Would that make me selfish if I choose the latter? Or if I choose to remain firm on my aspirations, would it be worth it?

"The firewhiskey's not exactly like butterbeer, you know," said Harry, calling me out of my reverie. "You can't just pour it down your throat in a gulp."

I looked blankly at him. I struggled to keep my face void of any expression but I'm sure my eyes betrayed me from hiding the forlorn and miserable realization that I feel . . . what? I don't even know how I feel now. I'm sure I felt betrayed but am I really? I'm beyond hurt but am I entitled to feel so? But then as I looked at the unadulterated concern and worry dancing on the green orbs of one of my longest friend, I remembered a vague memory of one of our conversations when we're sharing a meagre dinner composed of some mushroom and a piece of stale bread we managed to get somewhere. I remember how helplessly miserable we both were, wondering if we could still manage to get through another day and me wondering where in hell had Ron landed himself into.

I had asked Harry what could possibly be worse than the uncertainty of our survival and I remembered how his answer kept me awake that night. He had said that it was regret. How he regretted being busy getting angry at Dumbledore for not trusting him enough that he forgot to say thank you when he's still alive for all his little efforts to keep him secured and alive; for not giving Mr. and Mrs. Weasley a hug and possibly a kiss on the cheek for giving him a family; for not telling Sirius how much he meant to him; for not having the possible last chance of telling Ginny how much he loves her.

I remembered wanting to shout at him for the last part. I remembered resenting him for having the chance of saying those three words to the one he love whereas I wasn't given the chance.

And then, I got the chance and I'm just letting it go away again. I stayed on the sidewalk as I watched him slowly crossed the road alone, away from me. But what could I do really? The damage has been done. I'm back to repressing my feelings and hoping it would go away one day. I found it funny that I can't seem to take the heat of the fire I've started.

"You looked constipated," said a dreamy voice out of nowhere. I looked at Luna confusedly. What? Can she just go back to her weird dancing; I'm having a moment here. I bowed down my head to avoid offending Luna in case I forgot to stifle an eye roll while I look at her. I stayed there rigid as a rock, my clenched fists on top of my lap, trying my best not to cry. I wonder how pathetic I might look right now. "You'll always look like that if you continue holding it back. You better let it go, you know, before it could hurt you more."

I turned my head to her direction so fast I'm surprised I didn't get a whiplash. Did she know what's going on my mind? Why am I even asking? This is Luna I'm talking to. I realized, rather sadly, that she's right. If I won't do anything to tell Ron that I want him back –there I said it, I want him back –then he'll just keep on slipping through my fingers. And would I want that? Would I want him to be the one that got away?

I know the answer is no.

Harry and Ginny shot me bewildered concerned looks which I dismissed with a weak smile. I looked at Luna and smiled weakly at her too. She stared at me unblinkingly in that somehow infuriatingly odd way of hers as if she's figuring out a way to solve a puzzle. I just shook my head in resignation. That's Luna for you.

"Sorry about that," said a just returned Ron with an apologetic smile, blissfully unaware of the rage building inside me. He plopped down the couch, in the vacant spot next to me. I felt his arm snaked its way behind me, resting lazily on the backrest. He grinned at me. "Now where have we left off, if you don't mind me asking?"

If I don't mind? Ha! Of course, I do! He flirted with another witch then he'd come back here as if I didn't just witnessed his betrayal! The nerve of this man!

"Oh, I don't know, I think I already forgot," I said hotly. "You know, it seemed to me that you find our conversation so utterly boring that you've had to excuse yourself and go flirt with another girl."

I found the shocked reaction of Ron on my outburst utterly satisfying and enraging at the same time. The poor man looked absolutely lost. As if he had no idea that I can actually see him flirting with someone else in this crowded room. Well, too bad for him then.

"W-wha –?" he managed to splutter but I cut him off.

"Why are you even here? Why did you even come back? Found her too boring for your tastes as well you've came back to check if I can actually entertain you now?"

I am vaguely aware of the curious attention I've drawn with my shouting. Heck, I didn't even notice my voice raised an octave too high from the considered volume used for a civilized confrontation or that I've stood up and was now glaring malevolently down at Ron. I took a deep breath to calm myself and fully dwell on Ron's now stupefied form. I saw Harry and Ginny casually flirting with each other on the couch across us as if this is a regular, day-to-day occurrence. I then noticed Luna, who's still staring at me oddly that soon changed to a determined expression, reached out to me and started fending imaginary creatures off me.

Arrggh!

That's it! I need to get out of here before I combust.

I grabbed my cloak from the backrest and turned towards the exit, passing through the dancing throng of sweat-smelling, alcohol-overdosed witches and wizards. I elbowed at least four people out of the way, uncaring if I actually managed to hurt them or not. My sole focus was to get out of here while I can still keep the tears at bay. I didn't even noticed that I am being roughly shove down by a corpulent witch that I unintentionally bumped hardly into until I was losing my footing, a mortifying thought of how embarrassing I might look like sprawled face first to the floor crossed my mind. But then I feel a hand grabbing me and pulling me close, enclosing me towards a firm, broad chest, preventing my face from its close acquaintance to the floor.

"Watch where you're going, you bitch!" I heard the witch spat angrily.

"That's enough! Move along now!" I heard Ron order in a harsh tone and sensed the witch walked away with an annoyed 'hmp!'. He pushed me off of his chest a little to look at me with concerned eyes, pushing stray curls off my face then cupping my cheek with the hand that isn't encircled around me. "Hey, you alright? Are you hurt? Why're you crying?"

I shook my head hastily burying my face once more to his chest, feeling defeated. Why couldn't I just have the dignified departure I deserve? Damn, tears! Damn, heart! Damn, Ron and his intoxicating scent mingled with the spicy aroma of alcohol that aggravates my already inebriated thoughts. Why did I have to break down now? In front of Ron, no less! I had a fleeting feeling of chagrin on how incongruous was my sudden emotional outburst to the raving public and loud, pulsating music. I think this kind of moments should have the dreary scenery of a lonely park accompanied with a strong outpour of rain for added dramatic effects.

I don't know how but I vaguely noticed Ron lead me through the dancing mob, then out of the pub, and out of Diagon Alley, keeping me close on his arms the whole time. I just feel totally embarrassed that I just trusted him to get me out of there and save me from further humiliation. Before I knew it, we were in a muggle street that is just a walking distance away to our old home.

I stopped on my tracks suddenly, shaking off from the daze I was in. Ron halted as well and I can practically sense his concern and confusion. I disentangled myself off him forcibly and took off stomping away from him then halted when I was a few feet away and spinned back around sharply with an enraged scowl to Ron's further bewilderment.

"I can manage from here," I said with an angry dismissal. "You can go now!"

I had to fight down the sadistic urge to smirk in satisfaction upon seeing the wounded expression that flashed on Ron's face. Then I saw him lean down his upper body a little, looking down on the ground, he put a hand on his hip and the other run through his hair in frustration then gripped it. I hear him took a frustrated sigh. I'm sure his ears and neck were probably red in anger now. I know he was trying to calm himself and was trying not to lash back at me. He always had a hard time keeping his temper in check and his mouth shut, but since he chose to be an Auror, he had no choice but try to keep a calm, contained demeanour at all times.

Unfortunately, he seemed to struggle to contain himself whenever it comes to me. I seemed to know exactly what buttons to push and what the best word-sword to wield that can pierce through his heart the most.

He then looked at me angrily then took intimidating steps towards me, closing the few inches gap between us. I stuck my chin up in defiance, craning my neck to meet his blazing eyes. I refuse to cower down before him.

"What the bloody hell is your problem?" he snarled. We were toe to toe now, both stubborn enough to back down and let the other win. "One minute you're wrapping your bloody self against me then you're biting my head off the next. And I don't even know what the bloody hell is the reason why! You know what? You're impossible!"

"No, you're impossible!" I echoed rather childishly to Ron's annoyance. He narrowed his eyes at me trying to intimidate me which doesn't work to his obvious chagrin.

I watched him looked away, it seemed like he was gathering his thoughts, then he heaved a loud sigh. He looked back at me with desperate eyes. "What's going on with you, Hermione? What happened? Was it something I did? Did I do something to upset you? Tell me."

I looked at his shoulder, scowling at it. Burning a hole on it with my eyes. How could he not know? Was he that oblivious? Did he think I wouldn't catch him in that crowd?

"Goddammit, Hermione! Answer me!" he barked, using his intimidating voice when I kept quiet.

He wasn't really the most patient person I know.

I scowled at him angrily. "Stop telling me what to do, Ronald Weasley!" I shouted at him, jabbing him on his chest with a finger. I saw his face contorted in a frustrated confusion. "And. Stop. Cursing. At. Me." I added, poking him hardly with each word for emphasis. Damn, he didn't even flinch.

He caught my hand to stop me from poking him, holding it in place. I tried to shrug off his grasp but he held my hand firmly and he was too strong so I just gave up the fight. I looked down, my eyes stings and I just found myself sobbing in abandon all of a sudden.

I'm tired. My heart aches. It's as if someone pulled it out off my chest, then threw it and stomped on it for good measure. Can't he just go and leave me in peace so that I can nurse my broken heart once more. Can't he see how hurt I am?

He just stayed there holding my fist against his chest while I cry my heart out.

"I hate you," I said in a dejected whisper after a while, punching him with my free hand. "I hate you," I said again with a weak punch. Then said it again a few more times with the strongest punch I could muster. I want him to feel my pain. I want to hurt him at least physically, if not emotionally.

He just stood there, letting me punch him, allowing me to transfer some of my pain to him, however feeble.

"Hermione," he breathed after a while, catching my other hand, trapping it with the other in one hand. He tucked my hair behind my ear, and then caressed my cheek softly. He wiped the tears off my face, too lovingly for my liking that pinched my frustrated heart again. He then tilted my chin, forcing me to look at him. "Tell me what's wrong, please. I don't want to fight."

I locked my gaze on his eyes. I can see his sincerity through his blue orbs and I feel my resolve slowly crumble.

"Why are you with Lisa Turpin?" I asked weakly. I know I just made myself vulnerable but I need to know. I have to know.

Ron's brow furrowed in confusion then an amused smirk broke in on his handsome face. I pulled my hands off from his hold forcibly. This time he let me. I scowled at him, unamused that he found my question and sort of admission amusing.

"Okay, I'm sorry," he said in mock seriousness, not sounding sorry at all. "Is Lisa Turpin the reason why you're acting up, Hermione?"

"I'm not acting up!" I protested.

"Of course, you're not. Of course," he said annoyingly. "Whatever might be your pretty, hyperactive mind is thinking, that's not it," he said in all seriousness. I scowled at him, not at all convinced. "I swear."

"You don't even know what I'm thinking!" I challenged, crossing my arms on my chest, glaring at him.

Ron rolled his eyes at me which I find really annoying, so I glared at him more.

"Really now, Hermione?" he asked with a quirk of his brow. "I know you. I know you were concocting silly scenarios on your head about –"

"Concocting!" I shouted indignantly. "For your information, mister, I saw you flirting with her with my own eyes. You were grinning down at her like a maniac; I'm surprised you haven't split your face in two. And not just that! You! You were letting her touch you. You were even laughing with her. I wonder what was the stupid joke had you cracked then, huh? What was it? Tell me! Thought I'm not going to catch you, aren't you? Ha! Guess what? I did!"

I ranted like a lunatic girlfriend I swore I will never be.

Ron took a step back, eyes wide in surprise.

"Woah, easy there, tiger," he said leaning towards me to grab my arms. "I don't know where you got that idea but I swear it's nothing like that. I was just trying to convince her to do something for the squad. Nothing else, I swear."

I looked at him sceptically. Carefully considering his rather vague admission. "Is that the truth?"

"Yeah, it is," he answered solemnly, trying to fully convince me. "I would tell you what it was about but it was work related and you know what the stupid rule is. But please believe me when I say that I wasn't doing anything wrong. Besides, if I do I won't do it in the same place where you currently are in, would I? Honestly, I'm not that daft."

He rolled his eyes like I was being silly. As if that actually would make me feel better! He's infuriating!

"Oh, so I should thank you then for having the clever idea of no cheating if Hermione's watching, right?"

Ron let out a frustrated noise and rubbed his face with his hands in exasperation. "That's not what I mean! Merlin! I –it just came out wrong. What I mean is –I would never cheat on you, you know that!"

I scoffed. Crossing my arms to my chest. "Perhaps not deliberately, maybe," I grumbled. "And it's not exactly comforting, if you must know."

Ron looked at me like he had no idea what I meant, his mouth agape. "Wh-what?"

"You flirted with Lisa –"

"I told you, I did not!" Ron protested.

" – even though I was in the same vicinity with the both of you. Don't even let me get started with Lavender."

"What's Lavender got to do with this? The three of us were together in case you don't remember, remember?"

"Yes," I confirmed. "But you entertained her, not me" I said weakly. Ron closed his eyes shut. I have a feeling I'm about to open a can of worms. Here goes nothing. "You were talking together and you were awfully interested over whatever she might have said. And it hurts me that you were more interested on talking with your ex over me and it hurts because I'm your ex as well and I know I don't have the right to feel this way but I can't help it because my stupid heart kept on telling me that you're mine even though you weren't and it was me who let you go and I feel so stupid because I let you go even though it is killing me inside." I gushed and I need to take a hearty intake of air before I weakly continued, "I hate it because I wanted you to talk to me, just me. I missed you. A lot. It's been months now. Don't you miss me?"

Gosh, I sounded like a clingy, over-possessive jealous girlfriend. I hate it.

I looked at Ron apprehensively. I just poured my heart out to him. I, Hermione Granger, just admitted in front of Ron Weasley that I'm stupid for letting him go and that I'm jealous. And that I miss him.

As my gaze found his, which were already pinned at me, my eyes widen in surprise from the intensity of the way Ron looks at me. I'm overwhelmed with the display of emotions that was dancing through his mesmerizing orbs. I'm dying to know what's going on in his mind right now. He just keep on looking at me in that intense way of his that I find myself fidgeting in anticipation. I furrowed my brow in impatience and worry. What if he had already move on? What if he no longer care about me but is just thinking how to break it to me gently to soften the blow?

He then moved his hand to smoothen my hair and tucked another stubborn stray curl behind my ears but his hand lingered, cupping my face. I looked at him with hopeful eyes. Maybe he still loves me.

"Really?" he breathed after a while. I furrowed my brow not quite understanding then he smiled at me and added, "You miss me?"

I rolled my eyes at him and scoffed, "Don't be stupid. Of course, I do."

Just then he enveloped me in a hug, trapping me in his hard chest. And I hugged him back rather fiercely. I want to feel every inch of him. Merlin, I missed him so much. But then I realized that he hadn't really answered my question. So I pulled back a bit to look at him.

"You never really answered me, you know. Do you miss me?" I asked anxiously, sounding as insecure as I feel right now. What if he doesn't?

Ron rolled his eyes playfully and then grinned mischievously, "Don't be stupid. Of course, I do," he said playfully that made me roll my eyes in mock-exasperation and smiled at him coyly. "Bloody hell, I miss you like so bloody much."

I swatted his chest playfully. "Don't call me stupid," I chastised him with a childish pout. I'm very much overwhelmed with his admission that I don't know how to deal with it so I choose to point out a safe topic. That I can deal with. "And stop cursing!"

Ron clucked his tongue reproachfully. "I just told you that I miss you and yet you're more concerned with my bloody mouth. Hell, I can even say that 'I bloody love you' and you'd only notice the word bloody and ignore the rest. What am I going to do with you, my love?" he said with a fond chuckle.

I can feel the heat creeping to my cheeks with his admission. He loves me! He just said he loves me. I smiled at him shyly.

"You do?" I asked timidly, toying on his collar. "You –you still love me?"

Ron looked at me amusedly like I was asking something silly.

"I mean," I continued a bit hesitantly. "I wasn't really the nicest person the last time we've talked. I –I said stuff I shouldn't and believe me that I was truly sorry for it. And . . . I –I sort of broke your heart because I thought I should . . ."

I swallowed audibly. Tears were forming on my eyes again. My guilt was making it hard for me to admit and continue talking. I took a step back. I can't look at him in the eyes in shame. I need some space to pull myself together to continue because I have to. Because Ron deserves to know the truth. I hugged myself, bracing myself for the incoming emotional turmoil.

"You thought what, Hermione?" asked Ron encouragingly. I can hear the impatience in his voice. I guess the suspense is killing him.

I took a breath and faced him. "I thought I should consider my options. I thought that they were right, that I should explore more. I thought I should focus more on the Wizengamot Selection. I thought I should prioritize my moral obligations. I thought . . . I thought I can do better on my own. I thought I can but I was wrong. I want you still. I love you still. I want you back. And I hate it that I need to choose between you and my dreams."

I was crying openly again. Why do these tears seem to be endless? I feel like my guilt is eating my whole being as sobs racked my body. My reasons for ending things and breaking his heart seemed silly and unforgivable even in my own ears.

"Why do you think you need to choose, Hermione?" Ron asked gently. he sounded pained and miserable and it hurts that I was the reason for it. He said it so low I could have missed it. "Did I ever did or said something to make you think that way?"

I looked at him pleadingly, for what, I'm not quite certain. "I don't know . . . Y-you just keep on telling m-me to do stuff this way and that way. I thought you were –I thought you were t-trying to hinder me or s-sabotage me. I know it sounded silly b-but that's what I thought at that time. You –you were suffocating me sometimes and I –I need to just breathe and you're always there –" I said in between sobs.

"So you chose to break my heart," Ron cut off. His tone was casual but I can feel the bitterness in it and I can't help but cry harder.

I shook my head, a tad in denial. Of course, I know it's the truth and that made it worse. "I'm sorry," I gasped.

Ron turned his back at me and I panicked. I throw myself on his back and hugged him fiercely, scared that he might walk away. We need to settle this down now. Walking away won't solve anything.

"Please," I pleaded, sounding desperate as I clung onto him further. "Please don't go. Please let's talk this out. Don't leave me. Please."

"What's there to talk about, Hermione?" asked Ron, his tone bitter. "You clearly think I'm a hindrance to your dreams. We would not want that now, won't we?"

"I was being stupid," I said desperately, grasping at straws. "I thought I need to choose but you were just trying to help me and I failed to realize that . . . I'm sorry. Please, tell me how to make it up to you. I'd do anything just tell me –tell me how –tell me what to do."

Ron seemed to consider this for he stay stood still while I trapped him in my embrace. I buried my head on the centre of his spine, whispering the word "please" over and over like a mantra against his back. Finally, he heaved a great sigh of resignation and took my hands that were engulfed around him, patting it gently.

"S'alright, I understand" he sighed. "You were just being stupid. I reckon I should be more understanding. Merlin knows how many chances you've given me when I messed up, it's time to return the favour," he added with a shrug that made me release a relieved shrug and then he disentangled my arms off him and turned to face me. He studied my face and his face was painted in weak resignation. He again wiped the tears off my face. He looked back at me, his demeanour serious and my breath hitched. "No. That's a lie. I don't really understand. I'm still pissed with you. Well, that's saying it lightly. But, I'll try, you know, to be more understanding. We are all pressured to prove something, so in a way I can understand that. But, still, I'm not very happy with you. I thought you ought to know. It's going to take a while but I'll try. We could both do, yeah?"

I nodded fervently. Honestly, if that's the best I can have after all this mess then I'm taking it. "I understand, really," I said and he gave me a weak, grateful smile. "I'll make it up to you, yeah?"

Ron quirked an eyebrow in suspicion, "And how would you do that, huh? Are you going to sort of court me back like I did the last time or something?" he teased then laughed as if he found the idea really amusing.

I can hear a bit of disbelief in his voice and a dash of a challenging tone. As if he was sure I would never do such a thing. Not one to back out in any challenge. I look straight into his eyes and with a fervent passion, whispered, "Yes."

Ron gulped, obviously surprised and is he . . . turned on? I smirked smugly at him. Taking absolute pleasure in catching him off guard. Ron blinked and opened his mouth to say something but then, perhaps thought better about it, closed his mouth shut. He then stuttered a, "You don't have to." I pierced him a pointed look that says how serious I am and that shut him up and looked down in surrender. He shook his head fondly then looked at me with a twinkle in his eyes, smiling at me lovingly.

"Merlin, I love you."

I smiled widely at him, bouncing on my feet a little. I feel like a schoolgirl who –no, scratch that. I feel like I'm in heaven. I feel lightheaded. I feel like I'm about to throw up rainbows with glitters. I feel the butterflies in my tummy were doing a wild, celebratory ritual of some sort. I feel I can do anything. I'm ridiculously happy as if my system just produced thrice the endorphins that are strictly necessary.

"I'm not Merlin but I love you, too," I quipped and he laughed.

I found this chapter really hard to write. I struggled to make everyone in character but I'm afraid I'm not that successful. Thanks for the reviews. I would love to hear your thoughts about this chapter. Drop me a review.