I need some fine wine...

Chapter Two: And you, you need to be nicer

Well here's a good man and a pretty young girl

Trying to play together somehow,

I'm wasting my life; you're changing the world,

I get drunk and watch your head grow

*********

She scrambled down the stairs frantically, holding her hair up with her left hand and looking after her hair pin with her right. She strolled into the kitchen, smelling the wonderful aroma of roast pork with stuffed apples and parsnips and after a slight pause, went into the dining room already set for the four guests about to arrive.

`Yes' she said, finding the last of her six golden pins which barely kept her hair up. The curls and waves were loosely falling apart but she decided that it didn't matter; it would at least disguise some of her very deep cleavage which was poking through her little black dress. Her best friends were coming for dinner; she couldn't let them see her like this. Perhaps she should change? Into what though? Something red? Or perhaps blue…?

*Pop!* *Pop!* *Pop!* *Pop!*

`Harry!'

`Luna!'

`Ron!'

`Ginny!'

`Luna?'

`Ginny!?

`Ron!!?'

`Harry?'

Excited

`Harry!' she greeted. The crowd looked to the right, meeting eyes with none other than the Chief of S.P.E.W. World Organisations; Hermione Granger. The chatter stopped, the candles lit and the music started to play.

^^^^~~~***~~~^^^^

“Rita, honestly, this is not what I want printed in The Prophet. I am not some busty bimbo who only thinks about clothes and finding my golden hair pin!”

“Hermione, darling-“said Rita Skeeter, sitting cross-legged on the corner of Hermione's desk. “You have to appeal to the public, dear. The public enjoys cleavage, dresses, dinner parties and most of all Harry Potter. We must take advantage of that you know!”

“Rita, I am not going to use my best friend for something dirty, completely absurd and grossly overdone!” Hermione said firmly and stood up indicating that she was much more profound than Rita ever would be and demanded respect.

“Should I take that as a compliment or an insult?” the tall wizard standing next to the door said and entered the office.

“Harry, I was simply explaining to Rita that her portrayal of me for the Daily Prophet is that of a shallow, dinner-entertaining slug slime-amoeba that is much more amazing at everything than I really am.” Hermione finished with a deep sigh. She took a deep breath then sat back down on to the leather chair.

“Is it so bad to look better in the media than you really do?” Harry asked. He knew Hermione was one of those people who just loved to criticize everything about herself. It wouldn't hurt her to have herself portrayed as a perfect being. She is one already.

“So you are saying, Harry Potter, dear friend of 14 years, that I should be portrayed in the media as a shallow, dinner-entertaining prat because that is better than the real me?” Hermione raised an eyebrow at Harry who nervously wriggled in his seat.

“Erm…no?” Harry replied.

“If you're going to be Minister you'll have to be much more confident when answering questions Potter” Hermione said while rising from her seat. She strode over to where Harry was and fiercely hugged him. He had grown so much that when they hugged her feet couldn't even touch the floor.

He whispered into her hair:

“So you heard?”

“Yes, Harry, I heard. Half the world knew before I did”

He put her down and she gave him a hard pat on the shoulder. He rubbed it and smirked at her before apologising furiously. He came up with the same excuses any politician would. The `I was really busy' -s and `I got away as soon as I could' -s and `I tried contacting you, but no one answered' -s just piled up.

“Harry, you have no idea how many times I've heard those excuses. And frankly I'm bloody tired of them.

Rita, could you leave us for a minute?”

They had almost forgotten Rita was in the room. The quick quotes quill was scribbling eagerly and then crossed out the last sentence it had last written. She looked at them.

“So what? I'm not welcome anymore am I? Great, just bloody unbelievable! Miss know-it-all strikes again, I cannot believe that woman has the nerve to-“ and the door slammed shut in the spectacled woman's face. Rita rearranged her glasses and smoothed down her hair which was now greying, but it didn't really show.

On the other side of the door Harry Potter was once again sitting down and Hermione sat opposite him, behind her mahogany desk.

“You've spilled glass or something there” Harry said and pointed towards the pile of crystal lying on the parquet floor.

With a swish and flick of her wand Hermione gathered up all the shards and places them in the rubbish bin.

They sat there in a comfortable silence before Harry first spoke.

“So, what do you think about me becoming minister?”

“What you think about you becoming minister?” she countered. A look into her eyes showed Harry that she wasn't at all happy with his plans.

“I mean, ever since we understood what the Ministry was up to, what the ministry represented and the corruption and betrayal and secrets going on there, we've hated it. Suddenly you're becoming part of it Harry. You can't expect me to just admit defeat and say: “Good luck mate, hope you'll get through it without any scandals” you know. There is one question on my mind though; Why?”

Hermione finished and crossed her arms while she leaned back in the chair.

“I suppose I do have a saving people thing, Hermione. But I can't save everyone now can I?”

Both he and Hermione looked down. Can't save everyone…I couldn't save Sirius or Dumbledore or Firenze or Dean.

“Carry on” Hermione whispered, understanding what was going through his mind at that moment.

“Well, I can't save everyone, but helping them in small ways is something that'd make me happy. Running a city, a country the way it should be it… I think it would help people and the way it is now I……I want to make our world a better place, Hermione.” He finished looking a bit regretful that his speech was so spinelessly presented. He'd have to ask Uther to help him with his rhetoric.

Hermione looked at him in the most endearing way.

“And I want you to be the one to do it” she said sweetly.

Immediately a light shone upon Harry's face as he stood up and grabbed Hermione by the waist, and embraced her like nothing mattered in the world. And the best part was that nothing did.

^^^^~~~**~~~^^^^

“Do you have any Domaine de la Romanée-Conti Richebourg?”

The woman behind the counter of the winery's shop just looked at her. Her hair consisted of curls in various sizes flowing all the way down to her back. The hair was a dark brown, reminiscent of bark.

Hermione's lighter brown hair was more wavy than curly nowadays and it was, unlike the French woman's, pulled up into a light ponytail high up at the back of her head. It gave her the feeling of superiority, having nothing to hide from (both in terms of hair and otherwise) and being able to look people straight in the eyes. Hermione therefore decided to give it one more try.

“Vous avez Domaine de la Romanée-Conti Richebourg ?”

 

Immediately the woman behind the counter shifted and went to the back of the store, obviously the location of the bottles. “Oui” she said. “Suivez-moi”. Follow me.

She stood in front of a shelf and started counting. After what seemed like forever to Hermione, the woman took out a bottle and held it so she could see the label.

“Est ce ce que vuz recherchiez?”

“Yes, this is what I was looking for, thank you, and merci.”

The dark haired woman looked at her callously before allowing Hermione to pay and get out of the store as quickly as possible.

After three years of living here and coming to his bloody winery you would think that they would at least understand the words `do you have…' Honestly. Sometimes, you just need a fine wine, though it shouldn't be this hard to get one!

She turned left into a small alley. Despite being small and surrounded by tall buildings, the alleyway was not dark and frightening. The light from the sun shone from above and lightened up the passage. A Parisians flowers hung from a windowpane and a window on the other side was open, spilling music into the air.

As much as it saddened her to leave this place, she knew she had to get back to her office. As she prepared herself for apparition she hesitated, just wanting to enjoy the sound of the heavenly music for a few more minutes. The yellow light cast upon her warmed her. Her tweed coat warmed her enough to survive the early days of autumn, but a little sunshine was more than welcome.

To think that Harry, with the help of countless others risked their lives to let this world exist as it is baffled her. Harry looked death in the face so that wizards, witches and muggles alike could live peacefully.

She sighed contently and eventually disapparated.

^^^^~~~**~~~^^^^

“Ginny I'm back!” Harry shouted as he returned to the hotel room. No answer was given to him.

He put his suitcase down by the door and hung up his coat and scarf. He and Ginny had been placed in this hotel room by the French delegation during their stay here. Obviously the French wanted to make friends with the British Minister of magic. Ginny eagerly accepted all gifts offered to them while Harry did the same. Hesitantly.

Later this week he would have dinner with the French Prime Minister of magic and his wife, the French Mistress of magic and since the French and English aren't known for getting along, even in the wizarding world, he didn't want to make himself too comfortable.

“I wonder where Ginny is.” Harry thought out loud. He made his way from the hall into the living room where he found a sleeping Ginevra Weasley on the couch. Her hair had grown long, to the middle of her back and she had got herself a fringe.

The red mane was now not as combed and slick as it usually was. Ginny must have been sleeping on the sofa for quite some time since her hair now was spread around on one of the ends of the sofa and it was tousled to an extreme which Harry never had seen.

He sneaked slowly across the carpeted floor, trying not to awake Ginny. Somehow, he did as his girlfriend sat up swiftly and without delay asked him:

“Harry, darling! When did you get here?”

“Just now. I didn't want to wake you so I -“

“Wanted to go into the bedroom?” Ginny asked with a more seductive tone in her voice. She got up from the couch and stood up, to reveal her slim physique and her clothing.

Today, Ginny had opted for a pair of straight legged grey tweed trousers with a navy blue jumper. However, the bra she had chosen was not as casual as the rest of her attire. It pushed her breasts up, together and held them firmly in place. This did not go unnoticed by Harry.

“Well, I am a bit tired…” Harry said, moving towards Ginny. She did the same. Ginny pulled Harry down and grabbed his face, thrusting him into a deep kiss with her. They hit the wall and as Harry wrapped his arms around her, ready to swing Ginny up and carry her into their bedroom with fine Egyptian sheets, a knock was heard on the door. It was that kind of knock that signified urgent matters; slightly stressed and forceful so that the person on the other side would clearly be able to hear it.

“Ginny” Harry said strictly in between kisses. “Mm hmm,” she moaned softly as she started kissing Harry's neck.

“Someone's knocking. It sounds urgent”

Ginny kept on kissing him, now moving down and starting to unbutton his light blue shirt.

“Ginny…”

“Harry…!”

“Ginny, seriously”

“Harry, you're the minister, they work for you. They're on your time. Relax…”

“Ginny!” Harry exclaimed as he pushed her away from him. The look in her eyes was meant to make him bow down under her and beg for mercy. Harry did not budge.

“I am the Minister for Magic, Ginny. If they need me, it's urgent. Never. Try to stop me. From doing my work. Again.” This time, a look that could murder was aimed at Ginny. She immediately left the room and slammed the door to the bathroom shut.

Harry quickly ran over to the front door and opened it with urgent force.

“Hello Potter. Or do you go by `Minister' now? Pothead? Potmaster? Har-Pot-Min if you're interested in becoming Chinese?”

“Pansy Parkinson”

“The one and only Potter.”

“You know, when Scrimgeour made you head of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes I think his intention was that you wouldn't suffer any such incidences. However you very well may, now that I am minister.”

Pansy looked at Harry with the utmost hatred. Harry just smiled back sweetly. He leaned against the doorframe and with a sigh shut the door in Miss Parkinson's face.

On the other side of the door, Pansy took out her notebook and scribbled:

`Harry Potter, current Minister for Magic in Britain is having trouble in paradise with long-term girlfriend Ginny Weasley. Tonight, they slept apart after an argument about the Ministers new career.

Will they work it out? Or will the Weasley-Potter peace be broken?'

She stuffed the quill back into her crocodile-handbag purse and scurried down the carpeted stairs into the lobby.

She hadn't received the nickname “Mini Skeeter” for nothing.

Song by:

(The Cardigans - I need some Fine Wine and you, you need to be nicer)

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Disclaimer. I own nothing ladies and gentlemen. Not even the bloody wine.

Author's note: Well, I hope that you like the second chapter. A bit more H/Hr in this. The previous chapter was more of a prologue just to introduce you to the story. Leave requests if you wish because I've started work on the fourth chapter now, and I'm in need of ideas.

So, have a good time, and while reading you might want to listen to the song Quelqu'un m'a dit by Carla Bruni. I had it in mind as the french music streaming out of the window in the alley. So, goodevening and please review.