10+ Reasons Ginny Weasley Should Never be a Maid of Honour by Hermione_Crookshanks

Rating: PG13
Genres: Romance, Humor
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 6
Published: 10/06/2009
Last Updated: 13/07/2009
Status: In Progress

Ginny Weasley wants nothing more than for her best friend to settle down and attempt a
"happily ever after." She had no idea that when she pushed Hermione Granger into marrying
long-time boyfriend Andrew Maddon it would mean sending her three thousand miles across the
Atlantic Ocean - permanently. Now Ginny's determined to make Hermione recognise why she dreaded
tying the knot all these months - and why Harry is at the root of this uncertainty. From
matchmaking to planning and sabotaging a wedding all at once, Ginny might have finally taken on
more than even she can handle.




1. The Proposal
---------------



**So I'm back with a non one-shot,** **romantic comedy. I know** **it's been a
long time, and I apologize for that.** **I actually started this fic about a year ago, but
I'm always anxious when it comes to posting fics on Portkey because of the high quality of work
that everyone expects. I have the first four chapters written out, which means I can post those on
a regular (most likely weekly) basis, but after that… As** **it's summer time,**
**however, and I graduated high school (meaning no summer assignments), hopefully it won't
take that long. M****y writing's a bit rusty, but hopefully you'll still enjoy it.**
**Please** **le****t me know if I should continue posting.**

**
Please read and review!!**

*****

“I don't know, Gin,” Hermione Granger said as she raced through her small, London flat. “I
haven't the faintest clue what's going on tonight. He just told me to dress up and be ready
by eight.”

“And you honest to Merlin haven't the *foggiest*?” Ginny Weasley demanded, containing the
urge to shake her best female friend.

Hermione shook her head. “I'm awful at this sort of thing,” she groaned to herself as she pawed
through her jewellery box. “These or these?” She showed Ginny a pair of aquamarine hoops and a pair
of sapphire studs.

“You're wearing a sapphire dress, so my instincts tell me sapphire,” Ginny said with a hint of
sarcasm. “Honestly, how dense *are* you?”

“Well I'm sorry if I concentrated on my education rather than fashion— ”

“No, not about that! Well, yes, about that, but about what's going on tonight. *Clearly*
he's going to propose!”

“Don't be silly,” Hermione scolded, pushing the studs through her ears. She placed herself in
front of her mirror, picking at her hair and frowning. “Merlin, I really *am* a disaster. I
don't know what to do with my hair! *Honestly*. Dragging me to some black tie restaurant
when he *knows* I hate dressing up. What was he thinking?”

“He's *thinking* that he wants to *propose*,” Ginny said through gritted teeth. She
walked over to Hermione and grabbed her hair. “Here, let me do this.” She took out her wand and
began making fast work of Hermione's hair, piling it into an elegant, yet youthful, bun.

“Why would he propose?” Hermione scoffed. “We've only been dating— ”

“For three years!” Ginny cried, flinging up her hands. “Three years, Hermione! You should be
married with two kids by now.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Really, Ginny, that's such an archaic concept. I'm only
twenty-eight! There's no reason to be settled down.”

Ginny gave a small scream of frustration. “For one, twenty-eight going on twenty-nine.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow, indicating that this clearly wasn't enough to deter her.

“What about the fact that you're in love with him?” Ginny demanded.

“Who says I'm in love with him?”

“Oh come off it. If you didn't, you wouldn't still be dating him three years later. Unless
he's a *really* good shag,” Ginny added as an afterthought.

“Ginny!” Hermione exclaimed, shocked.

“Well, is he?”

“That's *none* of your business.”

“So he's not. Pity,” Ginny sighed.

“I never said that!”

“So he is?”

“We're *not* discussing my sex life!”

“Well then let's discuss *why* you're adamantly against marrying an amazing guy like
Andrew,” Ginny said, grabbing Hermione and pulling her down so they both sat on her bed. “I mean
you *do* love him, don't you?”

Hermione bit her lip. “Of course I do, Gin, it's just…” she trailed off.

“Just what?” Ginny probed.

“I don't understand why he would want to marry someone like me,” Hermione said, fingering the
cloth of her dress.

“Because he loves you,” Ginny told her bluntly. “What else is there to wonder about?”

“Gin, look at me,” Hermione half laughed. “I can barely dress myself!”

“Surprising enough as it is, Andrew loves you for who you are, and really couldn't give a damn
about how you look (which is amazing, despite your ridiculous notions). I promise you, he's
going to propose tonight. So say yes, wear that beautiful ring he's bound to give you, and have
a terrific shag after at that amazing flat of his.”

“Gin!” Hermione couldn't help but exclaim. She quickly sobered as she inquired, “You really
think he's going to ask me to marry him?”

“I really, really do,” Ginny smiled. “Just imagine, after tonight you'll be the future Mrs.
Andrew Maddon.”

“Ginny, you know how I feel about that sort of thing,” Hermione said, crinkling her nose at the
idea of relinquishing her last name. “Anyway, if he *does* propose, I won't accept until
tomorrow.”

“You're going to do something stupid, aren't you?” Ginny groaned.

“I am not!”

“Yes, you are. You're going to tell him that you need to run it by Harry first, making him
think that you're in love with your famous best friend, thus making him feel absolutely
inferior. Not to mention paranoid.”

“Look, I can't accept a marriage proposal without Harry knowing,” Hermione insisted. “He'd
do the same by me. He *did*, remember?” Hermione added pointedly.

“Yes, and when Rebecca discovered he asked *you* about the proposal before asking her, she
called off the wedding and threw a book at his head, remember *that*?”

“Well Andrew isn't Rebecca. Unlike Rebecca, Andrew actually has an ounce of logic.” Hermione
muttered a few choice words to herself about Harry's ex-fiancée.

“Why don't you just run it by him now?” Ginny asked. As much as she loved Hermione, Ginny often
found her rather tiresome.

“Because I don't want to upset him over something that might not even happen.” At Ginny's
raised eyebrow, Hermione quickly amended, “Well not *upset* him of course, because he'd
have no reason to be upset, but you understand what I'm trying to say.”

“Of course I do,” Ginny said, giving Hermione a knowing look. “Though *I* must say, as much as
I want you to marry Andrew, if you're more worried about Harry's reaction than whether the
man you're dating will actually propose, then maybe you— ”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Hermione interrupted, a little too quickly and defensively. “He's my
best friend. That's all. He's just like you and Ron.”

“Of course he is,” Ginny muttered, looking up at the ceiling and wondering what she ever did to
deserve such an oblivious friend.

The doorbell rang, and Hermione jumped up. “Oh Merlin, that's him, isn't it?” Frantic, she
turned to Ginny. “What do I do?”

“Well, and this is just a stretch mind you, but if it were me, I'd *open* the door and go
on the date.”

“Oh…” Hermione moaned, wringing her hands. “But what if he *does* ask me?”

“Hermione,” Ginny said, grabbing Hermione by the hand and dragging her from the bedroom, “do us all
a favour and, for once in your life, stop analysing. Just go with it. Breathe, and go with it.”
Ginny flung open the front door, her hand still gripping Hermione's shaking arm.

“Andrew, how lovely to see you again,” Ginny greeted the man. “It's been much too long.”

“Evening, Ginny,” Andrew greeted her, his grey eyes trained on Hermione, who was looking everywhere
but at him. “Hermione,” he smiled, leaning in and planting a kiss on her cheek (as that's all
she was able to offer him with her head to the side). “You okay?”

“Oh, of course, never better!” Hermione cried shrilly.

“Don't mind her,” Ginny said complacently. “She's just a bit off tonight.”

Andrew nodded, though he still seemed incredibly worried. “Well, we have an eight o'clock
reservation, and it's only 7:20. It takes just twenty minutes to get there, so if you want to
wait here and calm down a bit…”

“Don't be silly!” Ginny exclaimed, pushing Hermione towards Andrew. “She wouldn't dream of
it. Now you two have a pleasant night. Remember to stay safe!” She gave Hermione another shove,
forcing her into the arms of her exiting boyfriend. “Tell me everything,” Ginny mouthed after her
best friend, who only stared in horror as she was carried away.

*****


“Where's Ginny?” Harry Potter asked, rather suddenly Ron Weasley thought.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean normally Ginny and Hermione are here, too. Not that I don't appreciate your company,”
Harry added when Ron made to object to what he considered a clear insult. “It's just that I
know Hermione has her thing with Andrew tonight” - for reasons beyond everyone in the group of four
friends, save Ginny, Harry could never utter the words “Andrew” and “date” in the same sentence -
“but I thought Ginny was free.”

“Slight change of plans,” Ron shrugged. “Apparently Hermione was having a mental breakdown -
what's new? - and told Gin to get over to her flat immediately.”

“Mental breakdown? Over what?” Harry chose to ignore Ron's slight against their female best
friend.

“Something about the fact that Andrew insisted on bringing her to some fancy restaurant or
something. I don't really know. I heard Ginny muttering something about proposals, but I
wasn't really paying attention.”

Harry spit out his butter beer. “*Proposal*? He's *proposing*?”

“I don't know! I told you, I wasn't paying much attention. What does it matter?”

“Oh, please, you're really asking that?” a voice asked. The two men looked up and found Ginny
staring down at them. “No one's *that* thick, not even you, Ron.”

“When did you get here?” Ron demanded. “And why didn't we hear you apparate?”

“Just a moment ago, and perhaps because you were too caught up in your conversation?” Ginny
responded, plopping herself on the couch and forcing Ron to move over.

“Is he really proposing to her?” Harry grilled Ginny, more fiercely than he intended.

Ginny smirked at Harry's reaction. While nothing would please her more than for Hermione to
finally settle down with Andrew, she couldn't deny that Harry and Hermione's “we're too
stupid to realize that we might just want to shag each other” routine was incredibly entertaining.
“That's my theory, anyway.”

“Again, *what does it matter*?” Ron cried out.

Ginny rolled her eyes. “As if I'm answering that. Harry knows, don't you, Harry?”

Harry stared blankly at the redhead. “No, actually, I don't,” he admitted.

Disgusted, Ginny left the room and headed for the kitchen, muttering that she needed something
stronger than a butter beer if she was going to get through the evening.

*****

“You plan on feeding the birds when we leave?”

“Sorry?” Hermione broke from her anxious trance that had consumed her since sitting down at the
table and looked up at her boyfriend. He nodded towards her plate, which was covered in pieces of
bread. Hermione stared guiltily as her fingers made light work of shredding up another slice.

“Are you sure nothing's up?” Andrew asked, narrowing his eyes in concern. “Because you
haven't eaten a single thing tonight, and I'm fairly certain you could feed an army off the
bread you've torn up.”

“I'm fine,” Hermione insisted, just as she sat on her hands in an effort not to dirty the table
with even *more* bread crumbs. “Honestly. I'm just not hungry, and I had something on my
mind.” She wasn't lying. Of course, she wasn't hungry because she was anxious, and that
something on her mind was the idea of Andrew proposing, but why should she worry him with such
frivolities? “Why do you ask?”

Andrew laughed. “Do I *need* a reason to worry about my girlfriend?”

“Of course not,” Hermione answered quickly, restraining herself from stating that the phrase
“*my* girlfriend” was a bit too possessive for her tastes. But as misspeaking was one of his
few flaws (for she knew he was too forward thinking to actually consider women objects in any way
whatsoever), she supposed she could let it pass.

“Okay, good,” Andrew said with a small sigh of relief. “Because there's something I've been
meaning to ask you.”

*Oh dear Merlin*, Hermione thought, and she felt like she was choking on air. *What do I
do?*

“O-oh?” she managed to cough out.

“Well, it's just…we've been dating for three years now, and I really can't imagine
living without you.”

*Clichéd*, Hermione could imagine Ginny commenting. *But he's cute, so let it
go.*

“And the thing is, my company is moving me back home, to the US, I mean, and I don't want to
leave you behind. I mean I know you could just apparate and visit me, but while I was thinking this
over I realize that I, well…I want to always be with you. And not just as two people who are
dating. So, Hermione,” Andrew approached the conclusion of his speech, and produced a small, black,
velvet box, “will you marry me?” He opened the box, revealing a white gold ring with a square
diamond.

Hermione had the urge to faint, but as appearing weak had never been her style, she instead drew in
several deep breaths.

“Marry you?” she repeated, dazed. “And move with you to the States?”

“I know it sounds insane,” Andrew said quickly, scooting in closer, “but you could apparate to
work, or even request a transfer to the US Ministry.”

“Marry…and move…” she said once more, feeling like she wanted nothing more than to throw up. If
only she had eaten something in the last five hours.

“I realize I might be rushing things, but I— ”

“No,” Hermione interrupted him, putting up a hand. “No, it's not that, it's just…” *I
need to talk to Harry*, she wanted to say. But immediately Ginny's voice popped back into
her head. *Do you* really *want to screw this up, Hermione? Do you? Because that's
what's going to happen if you keep on this path.* “I…” *Accept! You accept!* “Yes, of
course,” Hermione finally answered, waiting for her breath to return, only to find she was having
an even *harder* time breathing. “Yes, I'll marry you, and yes, I'll move to the
States.”

Grinning like a four-year-old on Christmas morning, Andrew slid the ring onto Hermione's ring
finger, then leapt from the table and kissed her passionately.

Hermione wanted nothing more than to return Andrew's kiss, but she was a bit caught up with
how, exactly, she was going to tell Harry that she was moving three thousand miles away.

And the litte thing involving getting married.****

********* **
So, should I continue? It's been** **a while** **since I've written a long fic, and
I'm anxious to know your thoughts on the subject.**

-->



2. Reason One: Blatant Manipulation
-----------------------------------



**Hey** **everyone! So a reviewer asked me to make to give an estimate of how often I'll
update. So far I have four chapters written out. I will publish one of those chapters every
Wednesday, and after that I really can't make any promises. I'll update when I finish a new
chapter. In some instances there may be a week in between, other times longer. To be honest I am
facing a writer's block now - not for this fic, but for all writing. I'm dealing with a few
things in my personal life, but hopefully that should be done with soon (and I'm fairly certain
these “things” are a big part of why I've had issues writing). If all else fails I am positive
that seeing Half-Blood Prince, as much as I despised that book, will influence me to write, simply
because it reintroduces me to the Harry Potter** **phenomenon****.**

**I hope you're enjoying your week! Please review if you get a chance.**

*****

Hermione closed her front door softly behind her. As the door clicked into place, she slid to
the ground.

“Bloody hell, what did I just do?” she muttered to herself. “Merlin, I sound like Ron,” she
groaned, bringing her knees up to her chest and threading her fingers through her hair. She stared
blankly in front of her, devoid of all logical thought. The only thing that she could discern was a
name: Ginny. It was she, after all, who had landed Hermione in this mess, was it not? She who had
been that unrelenting voice in her head screaming, “MARRY HIM!” Who better to untangle this web
than the woman who tangled it? Standing up on shaky feet, Hermione walked into her living room and
called, “Gin? Ginny, are you still here?” No one replied, and Hermione realized that she must be at
Harry's.

Knowing that she was in no condition to apparate, Hermione grabbed some floo powder and stepped
into the fireplace. As she threw down the powder and called, “Harry and Ron's flat,” she
wondered why Ginny even bothered owning her own place, given that she usually slept at her
brother's or Hermione's.

Within moments Hermione stepped into Harry's living room, coughing and covered in soot. Three
pairs of eyes stared at her in surprise.

“What the bloody hell are *you* doing here?” Ginny demanded, pushing herself off the ground
and stomping over to Hermione, who was busy brushing off the last of the dust. “It's only
10:00!”

“I-I know,” Hermione managed to get out.

“So shouldn't you be celebrating your engagement or something? Shagging the night away?” Ron,
who had taken a swig of butter beer, choked on his drink, while Harry's face turned white.
Hermione, on the other hand, blushed at Ginny's forwardness and hissed, “Stop it!”

“What, he didn't propose?” Ginny asked, her hand on her hip. Hermione remained silent.
Aggravated, Ginny grabbed Hermione's left hand and examined it. “Well that's not the
problem. There's clearly a ring on there. And I don't think size is an issue either, seeing
as this diamond is as big as that brain of yours. So my question still remains: what are you doing
here?”

“You said yes?” came a voice, hoarse from confusion. Hermione's eyes flickered from Ginny's
face to Harry's.

“I…well…” Hermione licked her lips, apprehension overcoming her once more. “I…” This is *why*
she had wanted to ask Harry first. She just *knew* he would feel betrayed. Best friends were
there to guide you, weren't they? Hadn't she made him feel obsolete by failing to ask for
his opinion concerning such a pivotal question?

“Oh for Merlin's sake, obviously she said yes!” Ron cried, always the subtle one. “I mean look
at that rock on her finger.”

Harry held Hermione's gaze, and for reasons that Hermione couldn't understand (and had she,
would never admit), he made her wish she could reply, “No, Harry. Of course I said no.” Instead she
returned to Ginny and gave her a pleading look.

Ginny rolled her eyes in response. “Well come on then. Harry, may we borrow your room for a few
minutes?”

“Why do you need his room?” Ron asked, eyeing the two suspiciously.

“To have a shag, Ron,” Ginny shot at her brother, sounding much more malicious than usual. “Why do
you think? To discuss some things, all right? We just need a few minutes to talk. Is that an issue
for you?”

“Merlin, what'd I ever do to you,” muttered Ron. “Now I'm going to have sick images
coursing through my brain for the next week.”

“My apologies. Now, Harry, may we?”

“Er, sure. Yeah, whatever,” Harry replied, still distant. “Go ahead.”

“Thanks.” Ginny grabbed Hermione and pulled her down the hall and into Harry's bedroom.

“Okay, so what's wrong?” Ginny asked, shutting the door. “I had a feeling you might have a
couple of doubts, but you look scared out of your mind. Actually, to be quite honest, you looked
less scared when You-Know-Who attacked Hogwarts.”

Hermione gave a short, bitter laugh. “Seeing as I think I just made the biggest mistake of my life,
yes, Gin, I'd say I'm pretty frightened.”

“He's a great guy, Hermione. There's no reason to be upset.”

Hermione began pacing as she replied. “I know. I mean I *know*, Gin, believe me I know.
He's been nothing but amazing all of these years, and I couldn't ask for better.
Except…”

“Except what?”

“Except when he was proposing to me, all I could think was, `What will Harry think? How will he
react? Will he think it's too soon?' I mean for Merlin's sake!” Hermione threw up her
arms as she uttered this exclamation. “This amazing guy *proposes* to me, and all I can think
about is Harry! That must mean *something*, right? You're the psychology expert after all.
Well, as great an expert as one can be without actually *studying* the subject,” she added to
herself.

“It could mean a lot of things,” Ginny reasoned, sitting down on the bed and signalling Hermione to
sit next to her. “And I'm sure one of the reasons *you're* thinking of is the idea
that there might be…*more* to your relationship with Harry.” *Because there is*, Ginny
thought to herself, but remembered that the purpose at hand was convincing Hermione to marry
Andrew, a man Ginny thought almost as worthy as Harry (and who also had the added bonus of the
ability to express emotions, unlike a certain black-haired friend). “But perhaps the truth is you
just think highly of Harry's opinion,” Ginny said, praying Hermione wouldn't realize that
she was lying through her teeth. “He *is* your best friend after all, and it's always
important to, well, marry someone that meets your best friend's approval.”

“*Who* meets your best friend's approval,” Hermione immediately corrected, but backed down
at Ginny's raised eyebrow. “Sorry.”

“As I was saying, I'm sure you're just channelling all your anxiety about marrying Andrew
to your fear of whether Harry will agree with your decision. And you really don't need to
worry. Andrew is a *wonderful* bloke, Hermione. He loves you so, so much. And you love him
too, right?”

“Of course,” Hermione sighed. “Of course I love him, Gin, but what if— ” Before she could say,
“what if I'm not *in* love with him?” Ginny cut her off.

“There is no what if, Hermione. If you love each other that's all that matters. At least
that's what all those soap operas you got me hooked on tell me.”

“I did *not* introduce you to those horrendous things!” Hermione exclaimed, outraged. “The
only channels I ever showed you were the History Channel and BBC!”

“Well you introduced me to the telly, so you might as well have,” Ginny shrugged. “Now back on
point. If you love each other, it's enough.”

“But sometimes love *isn't* enough, Gin.”

“It is for you two. Stop worrying so much!” Ginny laughed, giving Hermione a small nudge.
“Everything will work out. Believe me.”

Hermione let out a breath and smiled at her best female friend. “You know what? You're right. I
love him and he loves me. And we've been dating for so long…this will work. No, it has to work.
Even if Harry…” Hermione's smile faltered, but she took in a deep breath and said, “No. Never
mind that. It just…it'll work. Right? Right. All right then…right. Right…” Hermione appeared
lost in her thoughts, and Ginny knew that she was in the process of convincing herself, beyond a
measure of a doubt, that this was the correct choice. Hermione quickly returned to reality and
cried, “Thank you, Ginny!” She jumped up, a smile on her face. “And the States isn't that bad,
right? Living there won't kill me. And I can always apparate over here when I have a spare
second. Granted, I won't have much time, seeing as I'll be busy with work. And I suppose
I'll probably have to transfer to the American Ministry, but that won't be too awful.
Right. This will work! Oh, thanks so, so much!” Hermione walked out the door, almost
skipping.

“The States?” Ginny croaked, watching Hermione's shadow disappear around the corner. “The
*States*? You're moving to the *States*?” A scream resonated throughout the flat.
“What the bloody hell is going on? I didn't approve this! HERMIONE JANE GRANGER, YOU GET BACK
HERE THIS *INSANT!*”

*****

“What was that?” Ron asked, wide-eyed at the sound of wretched screams.

“Haven't the faintest,” Harry replied, still far away.

Ron rolled his eyes. “Okay, Harry, would you stop it? So she's getting married. What's the
problem? I mean I don't want her to get married and leave us for some bloke either - she
*is* our Hermione - but I think it's time we accept that she has a life apart from
us.”

“Ron, I *know* that,” Harry said, frustration creeping into his voice. “And believe me,
that's not the problem.”

“Then what the bloody hell is? Because this brooding thing is getting old. I didn't like it
when we were in school, and it's not any more amusing now.”

“I don't know, Ron, that's it!” Harry exploded. “I haven't got a clue! All I know is
that the idea of Hermione *marrying* that guy is driving me insane!”

“Maybe you're jealous,” Ron suggested with a shrug.

“Don't be ridiculous, Ron, of course I'm not,” Harry shot at him. “This is *Hermione*,
remember? *Hermione!*”

“I'm not talking about being jealous of Andrew. I'm saying you're jealous of
*Hermione*.” Before Harry could protest, Ron explained, “You basically lost Rebecca because of
her, and now she's going to have your happily ever after because she didn't bother to
return the favour and run the situation by you.”

Harry pondered this for a few minutes. “You think that's it?”

Before Ron could answer, a more-content-than-before Hermione finally returned.

“Hello,” she greeted them. “Sorry about before. I guess I was having some engagement jitters, you
know?” Hermione laughed, a laugh that, had Harry not been so pre-occupied with his own concerns, he
would've immediately recognised as forced. Ron, who still wasn't completely in tune with
the female's range of emotions (though he had heartily improved in the past 14 years), simply
smiled and offered, “It's fine. We get it.”

Hermione let out a breath she had unintentionally held in, relieved that, so far, everyone believed
her. While she was working her way to convincing herself that she *had* made the right
decision, an important part of this process was affirmation from her close ones. As she turned to
Harry for his support, she immediately noted that he seemed lost in his own thoughts, a small frown
etched on his face.

“Harry, what's wrong?” Hermione asked, nature taking over. Ron rolled his eyes. Typical
Hermione - always putting Harry in front of her own life.

“He's fine, Hermione,” Ron assured her. “Don't worry. He's just having another one of
his brooding, 'woe is me' moments.”

“Ron!” Hermione shot at him, offering him a glare. “Can't you be a *little* more
sensitive? Obviously something's bothering him!”

“Because it's completely uncalled for!” Ron cried. Though it came as no surprise that Hermione
easily lost patience with him (what else was new?), he took offense at the very notion that he
couldn't care less about Harry. “He's getting himself worked up over nothing.”

“Ronald, I'm sure it isn't *nothing*,” Hermione snapped. “How would you feel if you
were upset and Harry here just sat there and said, `Oh, don't worry, Hermione. He's just
being histrionic. Let's go get a cup of tea!'”

“Would you *stop* putting words in my mouth?”

“Would *you* stop acting like a— ”

“Actually, Hermione, can I talk to you?” Harry asked suddenly.

Hermione and Ron, who were now nearly head to head due to their disagreement, turned so they faced
Harry.

“Of course, Harry,” Hermione said through gritted teeth. “Unlike *certain* people, I actually
care about my friends.”

“Oh for Merlin's sake!” Ron blew up. “Would you stop insinuating that I enjoy watching Harry
suffer and make a habit of laughing about it behind his back?”

“Ron, let them talk,” came a voice. Ron turned and found Ginny standing in the doorway. There was
no trace of a smile on her usually smug face, and she looked even paler than usual.

“Gin, are you— ” Ron began to ask, but Ginny quickly shook her head to silence him.

“Go on ahead,” Ginny told Harry and Hermione, as if they needed her permission (which, knowing
Ginny, they probably did).

“Well, er, thanks, Gin,” Harry said awkwardly. He left the room, a rather confused Hermione
following after him.

“Ginny, what the bloody hell is going on?” Ron demanded. “It's like all of you have gone
mental!”

“We have a serious, *serious* problem,” Ginny informed him, taking a seat across from her
older brother.

“Oh, Merlin,” Ron groaned. “Don't tell me this has something to do with the screaming I
heard.”

*****


“You wanted to talk?” Hermione inquired, sitting down on Harry's bed for the second time that
night.

“Yeah…yeah,” Harry said, clearly distracted. He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to figure
out how to begin.

Hermione unconsciously licked her dry lips. “Harry…what's wrong?” The same concern that had
underlined that question since their first year was clearly present, and for some reason it
unnerved Harry.

“You accepted his proposal, that's what's wrong!” he cried, throwing his hands down and
turning to stare at his best friend of nearly seventeen years.

“Harry,” Hermione began, taken aback. “What are you— ”

“You know what I'm talking about, Hermione!” Harry said. “You know perfectly well what I'm
talking about. When I was going to ask Rebecca to marry me I talked to you *first*. I talked
to you to make sure you would be okay with it, and then Rebecca finds out and not only calls off
the engagement, but breaks up with me!”

“And you're blaming me?” Hermione said, narrowing her eyes at him. “You're honest to Merlin
blaming *me*?”

“I'm not blaming *anyone*, Hermione. All I'm saying is that you…you should've
shown me the same courtesy.” In the back of his mind Harry realized that he was acting in a
completely unreasonable manner, but he was too far gone to correct his mistake.

“Well I'm sorry, Harry. I'm sorry that when Andrew proposed to me I didn't reply, `Can
I get back to you on that? I need to ask *Harry* if it's all right that I marry you,'”
Hermione snapped at him. When she heard what she had said she immediately grimaced - not because of
the harshness of her words, but rather because that's *exactly* what she had wanted to
do.

“Hermione, you *know* that's not what I'm saying.”

“Then what exactly *are* you saying?”

“I…” Harry was at a loss for words. “All right, maybe that *is* what I'm saying,” he
admitted. “But you can't blame me for being bothered by this!”

“I'm sorry, Harry,” Hermione sighed. “I'm sorry that Rebecca broke up with you over me. I
really, truly am. Had I been the one proposing to Andrew I would've mulled it over with you
first. But I didn't. *He* proposed to me. If Rebecca had proposed to *you* would your
first response had been, `Let me ask Hermione and see what she thinks'?”

“No,” Harry said, resigned to the fact that he had lost this argument. He settled down next to
Hermione. “No, you're right. I'm sorry, I'm being a git.”

“Maybe,” Hermione agreed with a small smile.

“Thanks a lot.” Harry tried to sound annoyed, but he ended up laughing instead. Hermione, however,
did not join in.

“Harry,” she said slowly, looking somber once more. “There's…well… There's something else
you should know.”

“What?” Harry inquired, coming down a few levels himself.

“Andrew…Andrew's company is moving him to the States. And I…he wants me to join him.”

Hermione held her breath as she watched Harry take in this new bit of information.

“Well that would be okay, right?” Harry finally answered. “I would still see you at work and—
”

“That's just it, Harry,” Hermione said. “Right now I'm at a place in my job where I'm
about to dedicate almost all of my time to it. I'm at the stage where I can either stay where I
am or *really* move forward. And if I work in England then I would rarely ever see Andrew, and
in the first years of a marriage that's creating a really precarious situation. I… Most likely
I will have to switch to the American Ministry. I know that the man in charge of the American
Department of Magical Law Enforcement just retired, and they offered me the job a few weeks ago. I
said no, of course, because then I'd be separated from all of you,” Hermione said logically,
“but now that Andrew's moving there…I…well…I think I have to take it. And for the first year or
two I probably will be spending most of my time proving my worth and taking control of the mess
over there, because you've heard the stories about how unorganised the American department is.
I probably wouldn't be able to visit all that often. Maybe once,” Hermione swallowed as she
revealed the worst of the truth, “once or twice a month.”

Harry stared at her in disbelief. “Well, er…well I certainly wasn't expecting that.” He looked
as if he had lost his footing and didn't know how to get it back.

“But if you think I shouldn't take the job,” Hermione said suddenly, influenced by something
she couldn't understand, “then I won't. Andrew and I can work something out, and— ”

“Don't be ridiculous, Hermione,” Harry said, giving her a smile that didn't quite reach his
eyes. “You…you would be miserable if you did that. Not only that, but it's a great opportunity
for you. Who *knows* how long it'll be before our Ministry finally comes to its senses and
puts you in charge of the department?”

“You think I should do it then?” Hermione asked in a small, insecure voice, so uncharacteristic of
her. Harry immediately recognised her vulnerability and how much she needed his assurance, no
matter how much he wished he could tell her otherwise.

“I do,” he told her. “I really, truly think you should. And we'll figure something out. We were
okay when you went back to Hogwarts without us, weren't we?”

“But that was different,” Hermione protested.

“Believe me when I say that even if, by some off chance, Ron and I stop keeping up with you, Ginny
won't let you slip through the cracks.”

“Thanks, Harry,” Hermione said, smiling at him. “That…that means a lot.”

Harry nodded at her, not trusting himself to continue. He worried that he would slip up and reveal
that he thought it was an awful idea, that he had no clue how he would get on without seeing her
every day. She was right about Hogwarts, after all - he and Ron had visited Hogwarts and badgered
her constantly back then. Seeing her only once or twice a month would be almost unbearable, and the
very idea of it made his insides twist.

*****


“Wait, I thought you *wanted* Hermione to marry Andrew?” Ron said after Ginny had informed him
of the situation at hand. He had moved their conversation to the kitchen so he could grab an apple
from the fridge. “You were constantly badgering him to ask her, weren't you?”

“Yes, but that was *before* he planned on moving to the States and taking my best friend with
him!” Ginny exclaimed, angrily shutting the fridge door as Ron walked across the room.

“So now you want to— ”

“Break them up?” Ginny asked swiftly. “Yes.”

“Don't you think you're being a bit selfish?” Ron asked her, biting into the apple.

Ginny shrugged. “Maybe. But we both know that there's a reason why Harry, if he puts his mind
to it, will be able to convince her to stay.”

“Because he's her best friend? But I'm her best friend, too, so why didn't you just—
”

“No, not because he's her best friend,” Ginny said through gritted teeth. “Because she's
been in love with him since she was fifteen, at the very least. You plonker,” Ginny added under her
breath.

“Hermione? In love with Harry?” Ron laughed. “Did you hit your head?”

“Have you hit yours?” Ginny countered. “She spent all of fourth year worrying her arse off about
him and she hasn't stopped since. And let me tell you, she wasn't too pleased about the
whole Harry and Cho thing, *or* Harry and any other girl for that matter.”

“She gave him relationship advice when he dated Cho,” Ron pointed out.

“She arranged a meeting with Rita *Skeeter*, of all people, on the day of their
Valentine's date! Tell me that doesn't just *scream* jealousy.”

Ron pondered this for a moment. “All right, I see where you're coming from,” he conceded. “But
do you honestly think Harry would try and convince Hermione to stay? He's too noble for his own
good, if you know what I mean. He's my best friend and everything, but sometimes his pride—
”

“Look, we both know that he doesn't want Hermione to leave anymore than we do,” Ginny stated
matter-of-factly. “In fact, I'd say he wants her to stay even *more* than we do. All we
have to do is get him to act on these feelings rather than his desire to please everyone.”

“And how, exactly, do you propose we do that?” Ron demanded.

“Easy,” Ginny said, looking smug once more. “We get them together.”

“Why am I suddenly scared for my life?” Ron sighed, tossing his apple into the rubbish bin.

Ginny's only response was a sly grin.

-->



3. Reason 2: Atrocious Priorities
---------------------------------



**Oh, goodness! Sorry about the late chapter. To be quite honest since the summer started
I've sort of lost track of the days (it's difficult to remember when it's Tuesday or
Wednesday when you're not attending school!) and completely forgot that today (or rather a
little less than twenty minutes ago) was Wednesday. But, hey! It's still Wednesday in a good
part of the world, so, um…yay? Heh.**

**This chapter isn't all that big on dialogue but hopefully you'll still enjoy it. It
examines Ginny's state of mind a bit, so you get a better understanding of her character
(hopefully). I know at least one of you had some questions regarding Ginny's sketchy behavior
(i.e. supporting Andrew/Hermione and then doing a 180 when she found out Hermione was
moving).**

**Hope you enjoy! See you next Wednesday. :-)**

*****

Hermione walked up the steps to her old house, holding her breath as she arrived at the door.
She took in a deep breath, various floral scents affronting her senses. Despite her anxiety, she
couldn't help but laugh lightly. As always her mother had clearly dedicated a fair portion of
her free time to gardening.

Hand shaking, Hermione reached up and pressed her old doorbell as firmly as she could in her state.
As she waited for someone to answer, she wondered how she would tell her parents that she was
engaged. It wasn't that they didn't want her to get married (goodness knows her mother had
been harping on her to do so for years now), but all the same…. She couldn't help but stress
over their possible reactions. She was relieved Andrew had agreed to let her break the news on her
own. He had insisted on accompanying her, but Hermione had convinced him that it would be better if
she did this on her own. For some reason the idea of discussing her impending marriage while Andrew
was there terrified her. Merlin only knew what she was going to do when they began *planning*
the wedding.

The door opened, shaking Hermione out of her reverie. A woman in her late 50s to early 60s with
short, brown hair that was beginning to gray cried out, “Hermione!”

“Mum,” Hermione smiled, giving her mother a hug and stepping inside. Mrs Granger quickly shut the
door as she called for her husband to join them.

“What on earth are you doing here?” Mrs Granger inquired, ushering her daughter into the living
room. “Not that I'm not thrilled to see you, but you didn't even call, dear.”

“Actually, I need to tell you something,” Hermione answered, offering her mother a nervous
smile.

Mrs Granger stopped and surveyed her only child. “You're not *pregnant*, are you?” she
asked suspiciously. “Because while there's nothing wrong with having a child out of wedlock in
this day and age (I suppose), you really *should* find yourself a great support system.
Raising a child on your own won't be easy, not to mention the costs, and - ”

“You're pregnant?” demanded a male voice, and Hermione whipped around to find her father
glaring disapprovingly at her.

“Oh, now don't get yourself into one of your moods,” Mrs Granger chastised as Hermione just
stared open mouthed at her assuming parents. “You know how many women are single mothers today. Why
just yesterday Anna was telling me about how *her* niece - you know, her sister-in-law's
child - is pregnant and planning to do it all on her own. But like I said, Hermione, dear,” Mrs
Granger turned to Hermione, “she has a wonderful support system. Would you like her number?”

“No, I would not like her number!” Hermione said in a faint voice, collapsing into a nearby
armchair.

“Dizzy spell?” Mrs Granger inquired sympathetically. “I got those *constantly* when I was
pregnant with you. Now what I find is best is to— ”

“Mother, I am *not* pregnant!”

Mrs Granger did a double take. “You're *not*?”

“No!” Hermione cried, clearly exasperated. “Not at *all*. Not even in the *slightest*.
Merlin!” The wizarding exclamation escaped her lips, and her parents exchanged looks that clearly
said, “There she goes with that magic world of hers.”

Mr Granger was the first to recover from this news. “Well thank God,” he exclaimed, wiping his
brow. “I was very worried for a moment there, Hermione. You shouldn't scare us like
that.”

“Scare you?” Hermione looked offended. “*Scare* you? All I said was, `I need to tell you
something,' and Mum started in on me about the whole pregnancy thing!”

“No need to raise your voice,” her parents said in unison. Hermione contained the urge to roll her
eyes. Even *today* her parents still scolded her together.

“I'm sorry,” Hermione said sincerely, knowing that her nerves were getting the best of her. “I
didn't mean to, honest. I just…I really need to talk to you.”

“Well all right then,” Mrs Granger agreed, sitting down across from Hermione. Mr Granger followed
suit. “What's got you so worked up, dear?”

“Well, you see…I…that is…” Hermione took in a deep breath and then announced, “I'm engaged!”
She produced her left hand, showing off the diamond ring that had taken residence on her ring
finger for a few days now.

Mrs Granger's jaw dropped. She immediately grabbed Hermione's hand, pulled it firmly
towards her, and examined it, as if making sure that Hermione was *actually* engaged.
Hermione's eyes rolled toward the ceiling once more. Was it so difficult to believe that she
could get married?

Once Mrs Granger had arrived at the conclusion that her daughter was telling the truth, she let go
of Hermione's hand and cried, “Engaged to *whom*, exactly?”

Hermione stared at her mother in disbelief. “What do you mean engaged to *whom*?” she
demanded. “Andrew, of course! Who else could there be?”

“Well there's that Ronald boy you dated back in school,” Mrs Granger replied reasonably,
looking to her husband for silent support, which he provided through a short nod, “and then
there's Harry, of course.”

“What do you mean, `Then there's Harry, of course'?” Hermione asked defensively, feeling
her stomach fill up with butterflies at the very mention of marrying Harry.

“Nothing, dear. Just that you two are very close.”

“Because he's my best friend! Why would I be marrying my best friend when I'm already in a
three year long relationship?”

“I haven't a clue, Hermione,” Mrs Granger answered calmly. “Maybe he knocked you up after a one
night stand due to haphazard drinking?”

Hermione stared at her mother in disbelief. “Mum, you *do* realise who I am, right?”

“Well I didn't say he *did*, Hermione,” Mrs Granger laughed with a wave of her hand. “We
cleared that whole pregnancy scare thing right up, didn't we?”

“It wasn't a pregnancy scare,” Hermione angrily muttered under her breath.

“But I'm sure you let loose every once in a while, no matter how sensible you may be,” Mrs
Granger reasoned.

“Yes, but not by randomly sleeping with my best friends after getting myself sloshed at some seedy
bar!”

Mrs Granger was about to reply when Mr Granger stepped in, recognising that a mother-daughter feud
was about to begin. “What your mother meant to say was that she's very happy for you. We
*both* are.” He offered his daughter a soft smile as he walked towards her. Placing a firm
hand on her shoulder he told her, “Just let us know about your wedding plans and we'll be happy
to pay. Just nothing *too* extraordinary.”

Hermione bit her lip, suddenly overcome by emotion at her father's sincerity. “Thanks, Dad,”
she told him, standing up to give him a firm hug. Glancing over his shoulder to her waiting mother,
Hermione half laughed, half sighed and opened her arms, indicating her mother to join her. Mrs
Granger eagerly complied, and soon both Hermione's parents embraced her. She placed her head in
the groove between their shoulders. She might have been a full grown adult, and her mother might
grate on her nerves every other second, but there was nothing quite as comforting as being held by
both her mother and her father.

*****


“ARGH!”

It was Ginny Weasley's seventh scream of the day and it wasn't even noon yet.

She stared at her useless piece of parchment. Overcome by anger once more, she balled the poor
thing up and threw it into the waiting rubbish bin. She would've knocked over her ink well if
she hadn't been conscious of the fact that it would stain her carpet. She was in no mood to
call over her mother for some domestic spell necessary to fix such a travesty.

She leaned back against her chair, groaning. The people around her *really* did not give her
enough credit. They all assumed that she simply identified a problem, came up with a plan, put the
plan in action, and ta da! Problem solved, leaving Ginny to bask in her glory.

If only life were so simple.

None of them knew (not that she would ever *let* them know) that she spent hours, sometimes
days, concocting her schemes. This one was especially difficult. She had failed to devise a plan
over the weekend, something that had not only frustrated her immensely, but was now causing her
financial pain. She had sent an owl into her office informing them that she would be unable to come
to work today due to an “illness.” That was one less sick day (and one less day of paid leave)
available to her in the future.

Granted, she knew it would've been useless had she gone in today. After all, she was hardly in
the mood to tell new and untrained staff writers *why* their fashion ideas belonged in a
magazine from the 1950s (sometimes being a managing editor was so *stressful*), and she most
likely would've spent the entire work day staring into space and drafting dreadful plan after
dreadful plan.

Still. She had expected that she would've come up with *something* after brainstorming for
five hours. Yet so far all she had was a rubbish bin overflowing with parchment and a quill worn
down to its feather. Not exactly what Ginny had in mind when she had told her brother that all they
needed to do was get Harry and Hermione together.

Not exactly what she had in mind at all.

She flung her head into her arms, emitting a small moan. She highly doubted anyone imagined
*this* when they thought of Ginny Weasley - not even her closest friends and family. She was
always in *control*, always *right*, so *arrogantly* so.

They hadn't a clue how much work went into maintaining that face.

Not that she had any regrets - she loved being the one that everyone just knew they could never
doubt. But once in a while, such as today, it became tiring, especially when facing such an arduous
talk.

Because while Ginny Weasley loved a challenge with all of her heart - what better way to make
everyone *ooh* and *ahh*? - she hated to fail. And to be perfectly honest - not that she
would even admit this, not even on her deathbed - she wasn't certain that she *could*
carry out such an intense matchmaking scheme. Had this occurred several years ago, back in their
Hogwarts years, then certainly; but now Harry and Hermione were so *practiced* in their denial
that she had to wonder if even deep down they recognised their true feelings.

Ginny couldn't help but blame herself, just in the slightest. If she had only made a stronger
attempt to get those two morons together those many years ago she wouldn't be faced with all of
this stress. She had given it a couple of go's in seventh year after she realized they were
inevitable, but those had been some of her first dips into the manipulation pool and, needless to
say, she hadn't been successful. Nonetheless, Ginny hadn't really worried because she had
honest to Merlin thought that eventually Harry and Hermione would get their act together and admit
their feelings. But nope, never happened. Those two stubborn love birds circled around one another,
getting closer and closer to revealing their emotions but never actually doing so, all the while
becoming mixed up in emotionless relationship after emotionless relationship. But then Hermione had
met Andrew, and while it was clear that she didn't felt nearly as strongly for him as she did
Harry, she was *happy*. And who was Ginny to destroy Hermione's happiness?

Of course once Hermione had informed her that she was going to move to the States Ginny's
happiness had been put on the chopping block, and Ginny had to put a stop to the ridiculous
Hermione and Andrew charade before her happiness was beheaded, so to speak. Even if it meant
Hermione experienced a little bit of agony.

After all, Ginny was a good friend, but she wasn't *that* good a friend - not that she
would go through with this if she wasn't 100 percent certain that her actions would lead Harry
and Hermione to a life of greater happiness, but she wasn't exactly solely motivated by this
outcome.

Ginny picked her head back up, staring morosely at the blank piece of parchment. How on
*earth* was she going to convince Harry to finally use his Gryffindor courage to admit his
feelings for his best female friend? Surely he must realise that if Hermione left for the States he
would rarely see her, something that Ginny was positive he could not handle. Hermione *must*
have told him this during their little talk.

Ginny lit up as a thought occurred to her. Maybe that was it. Maybe she had to *show* Harry
what life would be like when Hermione left. Even if he knew he wouldn't see Hermione he might
have underestimated the toll it would take on not just his relationship with her, but on his
*life*.

Grinning to herself, Ginny began penning the first few steps of her plan. Maybe she *would*
make it to work tomorrow after all.

-->



4. Author's Note
----------------



Author's Note:

Hey, everyone! I know you're expecting an update - don't freak out, one is definitely
coming. You're just going to have to wait a little while longer (no more than twenty-four
hours, I promise). This past week has been quite hectic, and as a result my sleeping schedule got
really wrecked. Yesterday I got home from my piano lesson (which directly followed my volunteer
job) and basically passed out. I just woke up, and I'd post the new chapter except a) I
haven't had a chance to quickly go through it and make sure there isn't anything I need to
touch up and b) I need to leave for work. I will try to update as soon as I get home.

Thanks for your patience! I hope everyone is having a great week.

~Hermione_Crookshanks

-->



5. Reason 3: Planning and Sabotaging do not go Hand in Hand
-----------------------------------------------------------



**Sorry for the late update! Hopefully you read my author's note. If not, please check it
out if you want to know why I was a day late.**

**This is the last chapter I have pre-written. From here on out I honestly can't tell you
when I will update. It could be less than a week, or it could be more than a month. It all depends
on that lovely thing we call a muse. The good news is that I'm definitely writing - I just
wrote about 4,000 words for this story, which while not a lot is still much better than nothing.
The bad news is that those 4,000 words were for a chapter** **far** **far away from this one.
Still, at least I'm writing, right? I** **have** **been working on the fifth chapter, but
it's coming much slower than I originally anticipated. I hope it won't be much longer, but
if it is just know that I'm doing everything in my power to update as soon as possible.**

**I apologize if this chapter isn't up to my usual standards. I wrote it when I was still
struggling through a huge part of my writer's block. I went through it and tried to** **add
improvements****, but there is only so much one can do. It is, admittedly, a** **bit of a**
**filler chapter** **(though it still has a purpose)****. And for all of you wondering about
H/Hr interaction, it's coming, I promise! Not in this chapter, but eventually. Again, I sort of
need to set things up** **before I can everything rolling.**

**I hope you enjoy!**

*****

“So you want a summer wedding?”

“Mum, you know that can't happen,” Hermione replied, brushing a stray strand of bushy hair out
of her face. She contained the urge to massage her forehead. So far she had spent two hours
discussing possible wedding plans with her mother, and it was beginning to take its toll.
“He's, I mean, *we're*,” Hermione quickly corrected herself, “moving in less than two
months. It'll have to be by May.”

“So I guess we can cross a seaside wedding off the list,” Mrs Granger muttered under her breath,
making a line through the second idea on her paper.

“Actually, I think we're going to hold it in a church,” Hermione said as she browsed through a
floral catalogue.

Mrs Granger's jaw dropped open. “A *church*? You in a church? I don't even know if I
can imagine you *going* to church, let alone getting married in one.”

“Just because I'm not religious doesn't mean that it isn't a valid option,” Hermione
argued. Mrs Granger raised an eyebrow. “Well what am I supposed to do?” Hermione demanded, slamming
her magazine closed. This had been a very stressful twenty-four hours, and her mother wasn't
making it any easier. “Andrew happens to come from a fairly pious family, and getting married in a
church means quite a lot to them.”

“What about what matters to you?” Mrs Granger demanded. “This *is* your only wedding. If all
goes well,” she added.

Hermione chose to ignore her mother's second statement and replied, “And it's
*Andrew's* only wedding as well. It's the getting married part that matters, not the
where.”

“All right, dear. It's your funeral.”

“Wedding. It's my *wedding*, mother.”

“Not at this rate it isn't,” Mrs Granger said with a pointed look.

“Oh, Merlin,” Hermione sighed.

Mrs Granger shook her head. “We'll deal with this later. Now, do you have any ideas for your
bridesmaids' gowns?”

Hermione's eyes widened. “Gowns? I haven't even chosen my bridesmaids!”

“You mean to tell me you haven't a clue who will be standing next to you during the most
important day of your life?”

“Mother, it's hardly the most important— ” Hermione began, but was cut off by her mother's
stare. “What I *meant* to say is no,” Hermione amended quickly. “I was so caught up with the
proposal and telling you and…well, I suppose it simply slipped my mind.”

“Well, we already know who your Maid of Honour is, so we don't need to worry about that,” Mrs
Granger said, checking something else off of her list.

“Wait, we do?” Hermione asked, furrowing her brow. This was certainly news to *her*.

Mrs Granger looked up at her daughter. “Of course we do, Hermione,” Mrs Granger replied as if her
daughter had just asked the most ridiculous question in the world. When Hermione continued to stare
Mrs Granger answered, “*Samantha*.”

“Sam?” Hermione gaped at her mother. “Mum, no offense, but I am *not* making Sam my Maid of
Honour.”

“Hermione, she's your *cousin*.”

“And a horrible one at that!” Hermione cried. “She tortured me, remember? Told me I had to cut off
all of my hair or the Hair Monster would eat me.”

“She was five! And besides, you never even cared about your hair.”

“And I was *three,* and It was still wrong!”

“Fine. If not Samanth, then who do you have in mind?”

“Well, honestly,” Hermione said, biting her lip, “I was thinking…maybe, well…Ginny?”

“Ginny?” Mrs Granger repeated, a mixture of confusion and incredulity in her eyes. “Who on earth is
*Ginny*?”

“*Mum*,” Hermione groaned, letting her head fall onto the table.

“Really, Hermione, don't `Mum,' me. I don't think I've even met this girl! How can
a girl I never met be your Maid of Honour?”

“She's my best friend!” Hermione cried from underneath her arms.

“I thought Harry was your best friend.”

“He is,” Hermione said, emitting a frustrated sigh. “But she's my best *female* friend.”
Hermione finally lifted herself back up. “She's Ron's little sister.”

“Oh, *that* Ginny,” Mrs Granger said, comprehension dawning on her face.

“How many Ginnys are there?”

“The one who slept with Harry?” Mrs Granger asked, ignoring Hermione's question.

“Yes…wait, *what*?” Hermione did a double take. “No, absolutely *not*. Mum, they dated
way back in *sixth* year. She was only fifteen!”

Mrs Granger raised an eyebrow as if to say, “And?”

“No, mother, no, that's just…no. They barely even dated. *No*,” Hermione finished firmly,
but inside she couldn't help but feel a bit queasy.

“Hmm,” Mrs Granger said, clearly not convinced. “Well if she's your choice for Maid of Honour,
then all right. When do you plan on telling her?”

“I suppose now is as good a time as any,” Hermione sighed. Although she didn't look forward to
Ginny announcing her takeover of her wedding, it was better than staying here as her mother stuck
her nose into her best friends' sex lives. Hermione loved her mother, she really did, but there
was only so much a girl could take in two days. Sadly for Mrs Granger, Hermione was approaching her
limit.

*****

“All right, so here's the deal,” Ginny said, whipping out her wand and pointing to the
blackboard, which contained an elaborate scheme. “We help plan the wedding as if it's
happening.”

“Which it is,” Ron interrupted, pointing out the obvious.

Ginny glared at her brother. “Quiet, Ronald,” she instructed through gritted teeth. “Now, as I was
saying,” she continued, flinging the wand again so it made a loud *crack* against the
blackboard, “we continue on as if everything is normal, helping Hermione and her Maid of Honour
whenever they need us - enough so it looks like we're involved, but not enough to come out of
this looking like complete arses - but all the while we are secretly *sabotaging* the entire
thing!” Ginny grinned ear to ear, clearly proud of her scheme, as she followed the arrow that
pointed from “Fake wedding planning” to “SABOTAGE.”

Ron stared at his sister in disbelief. “Hermione's going to kill you, you realize that,
right?”

“Honestly, Ron, she'll be too busy shagging Harry to give a damn.”

Ron cringed. “Would you *please* stop talking about my two best friends shagging? That's
the second time in the last hour! Maybe you don't realize it, but that image is almost as bad
as imagining *you* in bed with someone. Even worse, because it's like my brother
*and* sister— ” Ron stopped short and turned green. “Oh, Merlin. Let's move on, because I
think I'm about to be sick.”

“That's perfectly fine with me,” Ginny said, then muttered under her breath, “About time you
stopped trying to monopolize the conversation.”

“What was that?” Ron asked suspiciously.

“You're just hearing things,” Ginny said shortly. “Now the key to this plan is to act normal.
I'll keep up with my bridesmaid duties— ”

“Ginny, she hasn't even *asked* you.”

“Oh, honestly, Ronald. It's *me*. Of course she's going to ask me to be a bridesmaid,
I'm—”

But what Ginny was Ron would never know, as at that moment Hermione appeared in Ron's living
room.

“Ginny!” Hermione said. Ginny gave a small scream and quickly muttered a cloaking spell on the
blackboard and thanked Merlin that her body had blocked Hermione's view. Hermione frowned.
“Since when does apparating scare you?”

“Since I'm in the middle of a very important conversation with my brother!” Ginny exclaimed,
quickly covering up her faux pas.

“Important conversation?” Hermione inquired. “Concerning?”

As Ginny racked her brain for an answer, Ron quickly put in, “Andrew's bachelor party!”

Ginny's eyes widened as she stared at her brother in horror. *What* was he thinking?

“Bachelor party?” Hermione repeated, taking a step forward. “You don't think that maybe
*Andrew's* friends might want to be in charge of that?”

“Oh, wow, we didn't think of that!” Ron exclaimed as Ginny contained the urge to slam her head
into the wall. “Right, well, now that we have that settled I guess we can stop with our plans,
right, Gin?” Ron called over to his sister, who simply shook her head in disbelief.

“Right,” Hermione said slowly, eyeing her two friends suspiciously. “Anyway, Ginny, I wanted to
talk about a certain aspect of the wedding with you. Involving your place in it, I mean.”

Ginny turned to Ron and awarded him with a smirk. Ron rolled his eyes. Of course Ginny got what she
wanted. It was as if the universe dictated it to be so.

“Oh, Hermione!” Ginny exclaimed, turning back to her best friend as she faked surprise and honour.
“I would love to be a bridesmaid! Just so long as I have a say in the dress desi— ”

“Actually,” Hermione cut in before Ginny could get ahead of herself, “I was hoping that, well, that
you would be my Maid of Honour.” Hermione waited breathlessly for another smirk to cross
Ginny's face, and possibly a victory dance of sorts. Instead, Hermione witnessed Ginny's
first “Oh, bloody hell” expression.

Ron watched as his sister turned an interesting shade of white. “You are so screwed,” Ron laughed
at her.

Hermione looked back and forth between the two siblings. “Did I miss something?”

“No, of course not!” Ginny answered, regaining her cool. So Hermione wanted Ginny to be her right
hand woman during the wedding plans. This wasn't a crisis, was it? All right, so the Maid of
Honour was supposed to be supportive - Ginny could be supportive. Just not in an, “I support this
wedding and will do everything I can to make it perfect” sort of way. More of a, “You're in
love with Harry, you blind bat, and since I don't want you to move to the States I'm going
to make you finally realize this, even if it kills you” way. That was still supportive, right? And,
Ginny realized, it would be much easier to sabotage the wedding if she were the Maid of Honour. She
would be with Hermione day and night until the wedding, which would make dropping subtle hints a
piece of cake. Ginny felt her stomach churn at the idea of deceiving someone who had just revealed
how much they trusted her, but she pushed away the guilt when she reminded herself that, in the
end, Hermione would thank her.

“Wow, I certainly didn't imagine this was something you needed to think over,” Hermione said in
disbelief. “I thought you and authority went hand in— ”

“I'll do it!” Ginny announced, causing Ron's jaw to drop open. Was his sister truly insane?
“Of course I'll do it, Hermione. It'd be a,” Ginny paused as she considered what word women
of a lower self esteem would use in such a situation, “privilege.” She plastered a smile on her
face.

Hermione ran over to Ginny and hugged her. “Oh, Ginny, thank you! I thought you'd say yes, of
course, but I never imagined you would be so gracious. This will be such—” Hermione was about to
say, “Fun,” but a loud ring interrupted her. “Oh, bother,” Hermione sighed, letting go of Ginny and
pulling out her mobile. She glanced at the screen. “It's my mother, Gin. I better apparate home
and take it. She's a bit like you - never gives up. I'll talk to you later about plans so
far, okay?”

“Sounds wonderful!” Ginny exclaimed in her overly-joyful voice. Hermione disappeared from the room
with a pop, and Ginny resisted the urge to collapse on the floor.

“Well,” Ron said, turning to Ginny. He stared at her, waiting for an explanation of some sort. When
none came he demanded, “What the bloody hell did you just do?”

“I can handle this,” Ginny insisted just as she began experiencing something entirely new - stress.
Ron raised an eyebrow. “Don't give me that look, Ron, I can absolutely handle this! All I need
to do is— ”

“Plan a wedding while sabotaging it, thus effectively betraying your best friend?” Ron cut
in.

Ginny glared at her brother. “Right. The same plan as before, just with a few minor changes.”

“I'd say those are some fairly serious changes.”

Ginny swallowed. This was going to be one tough scheme to pull off. “Don't worry, Ron,” she
told him, determined not to reveal her severe doubts. “It'll be a piece of cake. Just
watch.”

-->



6. Diving into the Future
-------------------------



**I'm back! Hi everyone. I apologize for the long wait - writer's block has been
rearing its ugly head. I watched a good part of the Harry Potter marathon today, and once I got to
what I loving****ly** **call the "Harry/Hermione half hour" of** **Prisoner of
Azkaban** **I felt inspired and spent the last twenty minutes or so writing as Harry and
Hermione raced around the forest. So you can thank ABC for this update. I actually hadn't
planned on Harry re-entering the story so soon, but I guess my muse wanted otherwise, because
he's here. Not too much of Ginny, though. It seems I trade off Ginny and Harry. LOL.**
**Anyway,** **I hope you all enjoy this installment. I'm leaving town in a couple of weeks
(for a place I'm pretty sure has no Internet), so I'll do my best to update by then. If
not, I apologize sincerely.
** **Some of you might notice that the chapter title isn't a reason. This is because
Ginny, as I already mentioned, isn't really featured all that much in this chapter, so there
really** **isn't** **a reason and I didn't think it was appropriate to just make
something up for the sake of going along with a pattern.****

Hope all of you enjoy the Half-Blood Prince release! I'm going to the midnight release myself -
I'm actually really excited! Hopefully my fellow H/Hr shippers will be able to enjoy the film
(and, of course, all of my fellow HP fans out there).

Happy summer! (And winter for those of you on the other hemisphere)

Points to anyone who can guess what tv show/ship I reference in this chapter (it's not really
all that out there, but any serious - or maybe obsessive - fan of this show/ship will probably get
it).**

*********

Hermione arrived at her flat and expelled a sigh of relief. At least one item on her list of “To
Do for the Wedding” plans was finished. Granted, she never thought that it would take much
convincing to get Ginny on board as her Maid of Honour (that woman seemed to live and breathe
control), but she had succeeded and that was what mattered (not to mention having a valid reason
not to let her cousin fill the position).

Hermione looked around and couldn't help but notice how empty the flat felt. She had been
quite shocked to find Ginny at her own residence - she couldn't remember the last time Ginny
hadn't taken over her brother or Hermione's flats - but she had been too wrapped up in her
request to really give it much notice until now. Truth be told, the flat was rather lonely without
Ginny's obtrusive presence.

Hermione's eyes fell on her mobile, and she realized how easy it would be to call up Harry
and ask if he wanted to grab an early dinner - he certainly wasn't doing anything with Ron. But
somehow the idea of talking to him made Hermione feel queasy. She knew that he had said that he was
fine with the wedding and the move to America, but she couldn't get that brief sullen
expression that had graced his face out of her mind - she didn't think she could stand an
evening of searching his eyes for its return.

She reached over for her mobile and brought up her speed dial list. She stared at the names
programmed under “one” and bit her lip. After a few moments she shook her head, pressed the down
arrow, and then “call.”

The phone rang three times before a male voice answered. “Hello?”

“Hi, Andrew,” Hermione told the voice of her fiancé. “How are things in the States?” Andrew had
left the other day to visit his parents for a bit.

“Everything's good,” came Andrew's crackly voice.

“How'd your parents take the news of our engagement?”

“I actually haven't broken it to them yet,” Andrew admitted. “I haven't had a chance.
But they're definitely excited about having me back in the country! Now, of course, but also
the move, I mean.”

“That's...that's wonderful,” Hermione tried to enthuse, but even Andrew recognized that
her excitement had fallen flat.

“Don't worry, Hermione, I'll tell them. I just want to do it properly. They only met you
that one time, so I'm not sure how prepared they are for something like this.”

Hermione thought back to Christmas two years ago. Her parents had gone on a cruise at her
mother's insistence, so Hermione had joined Andrew for the holidays with his family. She had
gotten on well enough with the Maddons, but somehow she always felt as if she just didn't
click, and the Andrew's parents had certainly never done anything to right this feeling.
“Right, I understand,” Hermione assured him.

“Actually, I have to go. I'm about to meet them for brunch. I'll probably tell them now.
Talk to you later?”

“Of course. Have a nice time.”

“I will. Love you!”

“You, too,” Hermione replied, and then hung up. Well, if that was supposed to take her mind off
Harry it had certainly failed. Sighing, Hermione decided that she'd call it an early night and
curl up in her bedroom with a nice book and see if she could goad Crookshanks into joining her. She
would see Harry at work tomorrow anyway. Hopefully she could handle it.

*****

But Hermione wouldn't see Harry the following day. The moment she walked into her office
Hermione was summoned to see the Head of the Department, Edward Walden. Wondering what he could
possibly want, Hermione rushed across the hall, where she was met by the stern face of her
employer.

“Mr Walden, sir?” Hermione inquired. Walden nodded behind her and Hermione took it as a hint to
shut the door.

“Sit down, Granger,” Walden ordered.

Still confused, Hermione took a seat across from the glowering man. “I'm not sure what this
is about,” Hermione began slowly, “but my report should be in by tomorrow. I know I'm usually a
week ahead of schedule, but what with everything on my plate I thought you'd be fine with my
turning it in on time instead.”

“This isn't about your reports, Granger,” Walden growled. “It's about this!” He picked
up a letter, which Hermione recognized as one she had written.

“I'm not sure I understand, sir.”

“Mr. Walden,” Walden read, “As of May second I will be leaving the British Ministry and begin my
duties as the Head of the American Department of Magical Law Enforcement. I would like to thank you
and the apartment for all that you have done for me over the past few years, as well as all of the
opportunities with which you have provided. I will be happy to help in the securing of my
replacement. I look forward to working with you in the future, as I have high hopes of the American
and British Ministries working in tandem. Sincerely, Hermione Granger.” Walden crumpled the note
and demanded, “What's the meaning of this?”

“Well, I-I believe I said it all in the letter, sir,” Hermione answered, her voice shaking ever
so slightly. “I'm getting married, you see, and my fiancé is being transferred to the States,
so I thought it would be easier if I took a job there.”

“And you didn't have the nerve to tell me this in person?”

“Well, sir, the last time I talked to you about my job you told me that you didn't have time
for my nonsense and to write it all down so you wouldn't have to `deal with my
chatter.'”

“Are you mocking me, Granger?” Walden asked in a threatening town.

Hermione's eyes widened. “What? No, of course not! I'm only repeating what you said. ”
Walden's face turned red, and Hermione realized, rather late, that this was not the way to
subdue her boss.

“I want you out of here by tomorrow, Granger. You can finish whatever the hell report was due
today, and then I want your office cleared out by 5:00 tomorrow. We can handle your
*replacement*,” Walden sneered.

Hermione's jaw dropped. “Sir, you can't be serious...”

“Out,” Walden said. Hermione pressed her lips together and controlled the urge to give her boss
(or rather former boss) a piece of her mind. Scooting her chair back she got up, turned around, and
then walked out of the room without another word.

*****

Harry stared at the clock in his cubicle, waiting for the hands to land on 12:25. It was
Tuesday, and like every other Tuesday Harry was eagerly awaiting lunch with his best friends.
Several years ago, when all three were embarking on their careers - Hermione in the bureaucratic
aspect of law enforcement, Ron in the joke shop, and Harry in Auror training - they had agreed that
Tuesday was the worst of days (even Hermione had to admit that it was a rather dreadful ten hours
of work). With this in mind they decided that every Tuesday, at exactly 12:30, they would meet up
for an hour or so to break up the day and add some light to what Ron melodramatically called “the
darkness.” As Harry and Hermione worked not only in the same building, but on the same floor (the
Auror Office *was* part of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement after all), Harry had
picked up the habit of meeting up with Hermione and apparating with her to the Leaky Cauldron,
where they would wait a few minutes for Ron's arrival.

Harry grinned as 12:25 finally arrived. Closing the file of his latest case, Harry raced out of
the Auror Office and made his way down the long corridor that led to the Head section of the Law
Enforcement Department. Harry had to admit that he had missed this. Not to mention the fact that he
hadn't seen Hermione in over a week, and it was taking its toll. Last Tuesday Hermione had
missed the weekly lunch to tour various churches with Andrew (she had tried to explain the
importance of Tuesday to her fiancé, but Andrew apologized and explained that it was the only day
he could manage before his trip). Truth be told, Harry had been a bit relieved. It had been only
four days following the revelation that Hermione was not only getting married, but *leaving*
England, and at the time Harry wasn't sure if he could handle facing her. Instead he had
wrapped himself up in his work. It was times like those that Harry wished for the earlier days of
his career, when he was embroiled in his training and there were still Death Eaters running amuck.
Now all of that was done with, and the majority of the time Harry found himself investigating or
writing up cases rather than taking part in any sort of action. It was something to which he had
eventually become accustomed, but discovering the need to dive into his work, he craved the field
action that would have acted as an appropriate distraction.

But that was all in the past. Granted, the past was less than a week ago, but it was still
considered history. Now Harry could finally get his life back to normal, even if the normalcy would
last less than two months.

Harry rounded the corner and immediately found himself in front of Hermione's office. Out of
common courtesy Harry knocked on her door before opening it and stepping in. As Harry's eyes
took in the state of the room he felt his stomach plummet. Half-filled boxes filled the space - in
the corner he spied one filled with several pictures, including some of Hermione, Ron, and himself.
It was when Harry realized that the bookshelves that lined Hermione's walls were half empty
that the truth hit him - Hermione had begun packing up her life.

Swallowing hard, Harry walked across the room and arrived at the carton of pictures. He gingerly
removed the one from the top, and despite the sinking feeling at the pit of his stomach he
couldn't help but smile. The picture had been taken back at Hogwarts, sometime during sixth or
seventh year. The three hadn't been aware that Ginny was on a picture taking spree that day;
otherwise they probably wouldn't have appeared so comfortable. Hermione was leaning up against
a tree and was busy scouring *The Daily Prophet*. Harry was on the other side, working on his
latest potions essay (which Hermione had finished days earlier no doubt, present Harry mused) and
twisting his body around every so often to confer with Hermione. Ron had settled on lying on the
grass between them, simply soaking in the nice day and ignoring the mountain of homework waiting
for him when the trio would return to the Gryffindor common room.

“What are you doing here?” an alarmed voice inquired, interrupting Harry's bout of
nostalgia. Harry jumped slightly and quickly put the picture back in its place. Turning around he
came face to face with Ginny, who held a rather large, empty box in her arms.

“Ginny?” he asked, confused. “What are you— ”

“I just asked that,” Ginny cut in impatiently.

“It's Tuesday.”

This clearly meant nothing to Ginny, at least if her blank expression was any indication.
“And?”

“*Tuesday*, Gin. The day me, Hermione, and Ron get together so we don't die of
boredom?”

“I forgot about that,” Ginny replied with a shrug, and walked over to Hermione's desk. Once
her face was out of Harry's view she grinned to herself - as if she could possibly have
forgotten about the Tuesday lunches. Every Monday that's all she ever heard out of her two
friends and her brother. Shaking her head she began transferring papers from Hermione's desk to
the box she had been carrying.

Harry turned around and watched as Ginny cleaned out the office. “What's going on?”

“Hermione didn't tell you?” Ginny said, looking up in surprise - and for once her reaction
was actually sincere.

“Didn't tell you what?” Harry turned around again. There was Hermione, standing in the
doorway and carrying several boxes, one stacked on top of the other so that only her bushy hair was
visible. A face peered around the containers. “Harry?” Hermione dropped her boxes so as not to
continue blocking her view. She thought that when she saw him again she would be rather nervous,
but whether it was simply all of her years knowing him or the situation in which she was seeing
him, the anxiety never took over. Her eyes did widen, however, as she realized why her best friend
was here. “Oh, Merlin, it's Tuesday isn't it?” she asked, running over to him and looking
terribly guilty.

Harry nodded slowly. It was rather unusual for Hermione to forget anything, let alone a weekly
event, and the news disconcerted him. Was this what he had to look forward to in the future -
Hermione too busy with her new life to remember him?

“Oh, Harry, it completely slipped my mind! I just found out that Walden isn't exactly
pleased with my transfer,” Hermione sighed, “so he basically told me to get the hell out and not to
bother coming in for my remaining months here.”

“Walden did *what*?” Harry demanded, his face quickly turning the colour of Ginny's
hair.

“I know, he's acting like a complete idiot, but you know how he is with that temper. I think
he feels that I'm betraying the British Ministry or something else ridiculous.”

“Or maybe he's threatened by the fact that you'll soon be his equal rather than his
inferior?” Ginny cut in, but she was, unsurprisingly, ignored by both Harry and Hermione.

“He's a prick if he thinks he isn't going to regret not having you around for those
final two months! It's bad enough for them that you're leaving altogether. Doesn't he
realize what he's losing?” Harry cried, and from behind him Ginny smirked. *Projecting,
Harry?* she couldn't help but wonder.

“Harry, it's all right, really,” Hermione reassured him, placing a comforting hand on his
shoulder.

“No, it's not, and I'm going to go tell that bumbling excuse for a wizard— ”

“Harry!” Hermione exclaimed, and she quickly blocked Harry's way. “You will do no such
thing! There's no use in your getting in trouble over this and getting fired, too - you know
Walden would love any excuse to get rid of you; he's always complaining about how you steal the
limelight.” Harry knew Hermione was right, but somehow he felt losing his job would be perfectly
worth it if it meant tearing into Walden. “Anyway, it's all for the better.”

“How is this all for the *better*?” Harry looked at her, not understanding how she could be
so positive at a time like this.

“Well, now I have time to pack up my flat and plan the wedding - I won't have to worry about
when I'll hear back from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures to
figure out the latest legislation.” Although Hermione appeared to be taking an optimistic outlook
on the situation, Harry could tell from the way her eyes darkened ever so slightly that she was
*anything* but happy. He could only imagine how bitter she truly felt about being fired only
weeks before the newest magical creature rights bill came through. “Anyway, in my spare time I can
concentrate on the American Ministry and what on earth I'll do to get it running properly,”
Hermione added as if this made up for everything.

“I still say you're getting a raw deal,” Harry muttered. Hermione laughed and shrugged off
his comment, but inside she was devastated. Never in a thousand years had Hermione thought that
Walden would turn on her for having to transfer. Perhaps, she mused to herself, this really
*was* for the better - the firing, the move, all of it. But one look at Harry's face and
she knew that simply was not true.

“So...are you ready then?” Harry asked, feeling rather awkward. “It's already 12:35 and Ron
will have our heads if we make him wait much longer to eat.”

“Oh, Harry, I'm so, so sorry,” Hermione said, biting her lip. “But there's just too much
to pack up.”

“Can't you just use a packing spell or something?”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “That's what I said, but little miss obsessive over here is convinced
that everything will get mixed up and she'll never find anything again.”

“Seeing as domestic spells aren't exactly my strong suit, despite my best attempts,”
Hermione began, looking pained by this admission. Ginny laughed and Hermione glared at her.
“It's not as if you're any better, Ginny,” she shot at her friend, which shut Ginny up
rather quickly. “Anyway, like I was saying, since both of us are rather shoddy at domestic
spellwork, I'd rather do it the muggle way.”

“I'll do it,” Harry volunteered, brandishing her wand, and Ginny smothered another burst of
laughter.

“You're not exactly that talented with such spells yourself, Harry,” Hermione said, although
this time her comment was said rather apologetically. “I'm afraid I'd rather stick with the
safe route. Can I take a rain check on our lunch?”

“Aren't you already taking two years worth of rain checks?” Harry immediately regretted his
words after one glance at Hermione's devastated face. “I'm sorry, Hermione, I didn't
mean to— ”

“It's all right, Harry, don't worry.” Hermione offered him a weak smile. “You go on
without me before Ron goes ballistic. I'll see you later this week, all right?”

Harry nodded slowly, wondering how she would accomplish such a feat when she was going to be up
to her ears in planning and packing. He left her office without another word, convinced that he
would end up saying something that made him look like an even bigger git. Once he was far enough
away he leaned against the wall and closed his eyes.

*So that's it then*, Harry thought bitterly to himself. *No more walking down the
hall and seeing Hermione every day. This is really happening*.

Until now the notion of never seeing Hermione hadn't really set in - it was just a future
that Harry couldn't imagine ever arriving. *Now* it felt like they were flinging
themselves into the future full speed ahead, without a second thought as to the consequences. To
label the situation “unsettling” would be quite an understatement. Harry took in a few deep
breaths, trying to remind himself that this was far from the end of the world. Harry would know,
after all, having prevented this occurrence over ten years ago. At this moment, however, Harry was
quite certain that another round with Voldemort was preferable to *this*. At least back then
he had Hermione by his side.

Wondering how on earth he would manage to eat when he felt so sick, Harry apparated to the Leaky
Cauldron for the second of many Hermione-less Tuesday lunches.

-->