Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

There was a loud crack as Hermione apparated into the dim light of her living room. She was running late. Things at the Ministry were crazy right now. It had been a long week and she was happy it was over. She was going to the quidditch league semi-finals that evening to hang out with her friends from Hogwarts and hopefully watch as Ginny Weasley led the Holyhead Harpies to their first championship match in a decade. She was excited and nervous about seeing her friends. It had been about four years since they left school. They just didn't hang out together as often as they used to. She shrugged off her anxiety and set about getting ready for a lovely evening. Hermione changed quickly into her Holyhead team robes and stood primping in front of the mirror, trying in vain to tame her wild hair. She glanced at the time and with one last slightly exasperated look in the mirror, she disapparated from the room with another crack

The Leaky Cauldron was packed with Holyhead supporters in addition to its regular clientele. Tom, the proprietor, looked harried and annoyed with the extra patrons, "bloody tourists," he muttered as he served up butter-beers and fire-whiskeys by the dozen. Hermione appeared just outside the pub and quickly stepped inside, running her fingers through her hair nervously. She glanced around the room before moving through the crowds toward a table in the back corner where she could see Ron, Harry, Luna and Neville, all decked out and merrily singing the Harpies' theme. They had clearly had several drinks already.

Ron was first to notice Hermione as she made her way to the table. "Hey Hermione!" he smiled broadly and waved, pushing a chair out for her with his foot. "Thanks, Ron," Hermione said as she sat down. "You're late, you know," Harry began as he and Luna each pushed a small glass of fire-whiskey toward Hermione. Neville smiled as he added a large butter-beer to the growing number of beverages in front of her, "Get busy, 'Mione, you've got a lot of catching up to do." She stared around the table at her tipsy friends all anticipating her to protest, but instead she downed the first fire-whiskey in one big gulp and poured the second into her butter-beer before chugging the whole thing. She smiled, mischievously arching her brow as she put down the empty beer mug. A slightly smug grin overtook her features as she glanced around for her friends' reactions. Ron and Neville's mouths fell open, Luna smiled and clapped her hands while Harry laughed out loud in surprise. Hermione rarely drank and her friends had not really expected her to tonight. Her eagerness caused the table to erupt in laughter and applause-she blushed at the attention and made a small bow.

The friends chattered excitedly about the Harpies' chances against the Falcons with Ginny as captain for a long while. They decided unanimously (and obviously) that Ginny was a brilliant team captain and an even better chaser. The Harpies' chances clearly had never been better than now they had Ginny. Ginny. Just hearing her name now made Hermione feel as though her insides had somehow been transfigured into butterflies. Had it always done so? She could not wait to see the youngest Weasley. If her brain had been fully functional, it would have taken very little analysis for her to conclude that Ginny was the reason for her anxiety about this evening and her willingness to indulge in fire-whiskeys. As the conversation continued, she became aware of a warm sensation spreading through her and a certain feeling of carefree silliness from the last round of drinks. The brunette felt she had reached her fire-whiskey limit for the evening but at Harry's insistence she joined her friends in one more drink for luck followed by yet another chorus of Holyhead's anthem

Soon it was time to leave for the match. The group paid Tom and headed out into the cold, cloaks drawn tightly, to catch a portkey to the pitch. The Ministry had not yet lifted the apparitions ban it put in place during quidditch matches as a safety precaution while remaining Death Eaters were still at large. Portkeys had been set up all over Diagon Alley to handle the huge number of witches and wizards planning to attend the match. The friends stopped in front of the restored front of Ollivander's wand shop and stared down at their portkey, glowing softly blue. After taking hold of the cracked and discarded teapot, the group disappeared; their hands glued in place. They spun to a halt some seconds later at the edge of a small cattle path. The friends walked down the wooded lane through the throng of excited quidditch fans; stopping briefly to awe at the pitch and grandstands which rose high above the treeline. Inside the stadium, they picked up programs and made their way to the stairs where the usher directed the group toward the upper section of the stands. The V.I.P. boxes.

Being friends with the captain of a professional quidditch team had some definite perks, among them being a fantastic private box at one of the best pitches in the wizarding world. As they entered, a paunchy short house elf welcomed them into the box, bowing so low that his ears and pointed nose nearly brushed the ground. The box held six overstuffed armchairs, a large bench, low table and a cask of butter-beer. The pitch was huge and the seats packed, Luna and Hermione took in the amazing view-a raucous sea of colorful banners and hats and robes. Hermione couldn't imagine how Ginny was able to perform in front of such crowds, the thought alone made her stomach churn in an unpleasant way. She and Luna plopped down into two of the chairs and stared around excitedly; the stands felt almost electric in anticipation of the match.

The boys each had a butter-beer in their hands and busily combed through a food menu the house elf presented, he bowed low again when they concluded their order and scurried out of the box. Hermione watched as he left and shook her head sadly at the memory of how much effort she had once put into the liberation house elves. How could it have taken her so long to understand that service was what brought meaning to the lives of the house elves? Once she figured it out, though, she felt very guilty for having tricked so many elves into freedom during those S.P.E.W days. She was relieved when Harry told her that it had, in fact, been Dobby who collected the clothes she made to free the elves of Hogwarts. Embarrassed, Hermione pushed the memory into the back of her mind, settled into her chair and rejoined the conversation now that the food order had been placed.

Luna and Neville were talking animatedly about the interview Ginny had given to the Quibbler which was thriving with Luna at the helm and had become the second most read wizard publication behind the Daily Prophet. Neville was beyond proud of his wife. Luna, of course, felt equally proud of him-his work as a healer at St. Mungo's was certainly nothing to sneeze at. He had helped lead the way in new treatments for those whose brains were addled by spells, curses or torture. Though, sadly, his own parents had not benefitted from the efforts.

Harry had been working as an Auror for the Ministry of Magic for two years and while much of his work was secret, he was riding high on the recent capture of Fenrir Greyback, who had been in hiding since Voldemort's defeat. He was the suspected of involvement with a small band of death eaters that were continuing Voldemort's war on muggle-born and so-called blood traitor wizards and was known to lead a group of particularly bloody-minded werewolves that had been wreaking havoc up and down the coast. It brought Harry a sense of justice and closure to see the vicious werewolf and Voldemort follower in Azkaban. Ron also took special pleasure in knowing Greyback was no longer at large, feeling his brother, Bill, had been avenged.

Though he too had once aspired to working in the Aurors' office, Ron had instead joined his brother at Weazley's Wizard Wheezes shortly after the war. As it turned out, he was an asset to the store and a very gifted businessman. The joke shop was making more money than even Ron and George had ever dreamed of. Hermione felt proud of all her friends and extraordinarily happy for them. Her own work within the Ministry seemed much less interesting by comparison, but she enjoyed it.

Their happy conversation was interrupted by the announcement of the teams by Balthus Scudruther, the co-chair of the quidditch league. Peter Linginfield, captain of the Falmouth Falcons, flew out of the tunnel and made three loops around the stands, waving at the fans through cheers and boos before touching down in the center of the pitch. Next, the co-chair announced the captain of the Harpies to a roaring crowd as Ginny Weasley flew at breakneck speed around the pitch, a bright red blur. Harry, Ron, Luna, Neville and Hermione all jumped to their feet, cheering as she flew by. Hermione felt a strange sensation rush through her body as her friend blasted past. She wondered if Ginny noticed her, she knew it was impossible given the sheer size of the crowd, still she could not help but wonder. And hope. She stared after Ginny as the beautiful redhead landed beside Linginfield. The rest of the team members joined their captains on the pitch. Scudruther made a few brief comments, the captains shook hands, the balls were released and the match began with the sound of a whistle.

Ginny was in rare form during the match having scored seven goals herself in the first twenty minutes before Falmouth had scored even one. The crowd, of course, went crazy every time Ginny took possession of the quaffle. Not long into the match, in their private box, the meal Ron, Harry, and Neville ordered appeared on the low table. The wide array of foods spread out on the table were delicious but largely ignored in favor of watching the game. Hermione was watching Ginny. She couldn't help but marvel at the redhead who looked so at home in the air, blazing back and forth through the pitch. Ginny made chasing look easy, scoring yet another goal making it 100-30 Harpies.

Falmouth was angry with the poor start to the game and soon the beaters were focusing their attention solely on Ginny, batting the bludgers her way as often as they could. The Holyhead beaters did their best to keep the bludgers at bay and the few that slipped past them Ginny managed to dodge. Except one, which hit her hard in the left shoulder causing the crowd to groan painfully and clutch at their own entirely uninjured shoulders. Hermione gasped; her hands flew over her mouth in concern. The impact violently spun Ginny in midair but she stayed securely on her broom, swearing in pain. She held her left shoulder at an awkward and mildly unnatural angle as she headed back across the pitch. Barely missing a beat, she rejoined the fray almost as though nothing had happened. The main effect the bludger seemed to have was to drive the Harpies to score several more goals before the snitch was captured by Regina McDermott, Holyhead's seeker. The final score after almost two hours was 310-100 Holyhead Harpies.

The crowd went wild! That was it, the Harpies would compete in their first league final in a decade. The entire stadium (most of whom appeared to be Holyhead supporters) exploded with the Harpies' theme as the team took several victory laps around the stands. Ecstatic Harpies fans poured out of the stadium, their celebration spilling over onto the deserted moor. Hermione and the others left their box cheering and dancing and singing excitedly as they made their way down toward the locker rooms to congratulate Ginny on the win. Hermione noticed a twinge of nervousness building within her as they waited in front of the Harpies' locker room. It had been so long since she had seen Ginny and she wondered whether they could pick up where they left off. She wondered if things would be the same. Pushing these thoughts aside, she sighed and leaned against the wall, waiting and singing with the others.

The celebrations in the Holyhead locker room were exuberant but brief as most of the team wanted to get to the party before they really let their hair down. Ginny was not necessarily in a hurry, she was tired; happy-thrilled actually-but tired. She was used to being pretty sore and a bit banged up after a match but her shoulder hurt like hell; she would ask Neville to fix it for her. The Harpies, of course, had an excellent healer on staff, but, Ginny found it difficult to trust healing to just anyone. The rest of the team readied quickly and filed out of the locker rooms. Ginny showered and dressed more slowly than usual, owing to her injury. The plan was to meet up with Harry and the others for the Harpies' victory celebrations at the Leaky Cauldron, where she had wisely reserved three rooms in advance of the match for the group to share. Finally ready, she gathered her things and headed out of the locker rooms. As she swung open the door she was greeted by a singing, cheering crowd peppered with photographers and autograph seekers.

From the opposite side of the corridor, Hermione watched her friend interacting with the crowd. Ginny looked just as she always had and Hermione soon found herself staring at the Quidditch star. She was gracious and patient with her fans, answering questions, signing various bits of parchment thrust at her and, of course, posing for photos. Hermione could not help but notice how attractive she looked: long red hair, blue eyes, a winning smile and a confident personality. Hermione wondered if the girl had any idea of her appeal, then she wondered if that was a normal train of thought for her to have toward a friend.

After what seemed like ages, Ginny moved through the slowly dispersing crowd to Harry and the others who waited for her by the far wall. She was all smiles. They were still singing as she approached, "Alright, you lot?" he asked. Their singing stopped abruptly as they turned to face the girl of the hour, "Hey, Ginny, you were great!" Ron yelled, beaming at his little sister. Harry and Luna echoed the sentiment. Hermione smiled and met Ginny's shocked eyes, "Congratulations, Gin," she felt a slight flush spread over her chest and up her neck as she spoke, forcing her to look away. Ginny's mouth dropped open momentarily before shifting into a broad, happy smile. She had not expected to see Hermione.

It was a wonderful surprise. Ginny's eyes traveled over her friends and her heart swelled; they were the very best sort of people. Her gaze quickly returned to Hermione, lingering a moment or two longer than, perhaps, she should have before Neville piped up, "Well, let's sort that shoulder out, shall we," he asked, pulling out his wand. "Yes, thanks, Neville," Ginny replied, dropping her bag and taking a seat on the nearby bench. Neville checked her over and with a wave of his wand and a low crunching sound, Ginny grimaced, rolled her shoulder forward and back and gave a relieved smile, "Thank you, that is so much better. You really are a brilliant healer." Neville blushed at the praise. He was a humble man. Ginny stood and faced her friends, rolling her shoulder once more, "Well? We won! We're going to finals!" she shouted and ran to join her friends, the whole group jumping and shouting. After a bit of celebration and quidditch chatter, Ron led the way as they set out down the lane, back to the cracked teapot and Diagon Alley.

The Leaky Cauldron was full to the rafters with Holyhead revelers. Ginny had barely crossed the threshold before being hoisted into the air by her teammates amid cheers. The entire pub sang 'for she's a jolly good fellow' at the tops of their lungs. Finally, the Harpies deposited their captain on top of the bar, much to Tom's displeasure. The crowd boomed and cheered, urging the redhead to make a speech. Ginny simply raised her glass to her teammates with a nod and then to the fans and said, "You think this is a party? Just wait til we're holding the cup!" Her statement was met with a deafening roar. Ginny threw back her fire-whiskey and shouted to the ceiling, "Next round is on me!" and jumped down from the bar as the Harpies' anthem was belted out for easily the hundredth time that evening. Finally able rejoin her friends, Ginny settled into a chair across the table from Luna and Hermione. The girls were reminiscing about their Hogwarts days. Ginny caught Hermione's eyes and held her gaze. At that moment it was as if the Leaky Cauldron and all of the people it held melted away leaving only the two girls. Luna had stopped talking when she noticed that they were no longer listening. She smiled in her usual dreamy way as she watched the quidditch star and the war hero get lost in each other's eyes. Neville, Ron and Harry appeared moments later with yet more fire-whiskey which they happily passed around. Harry proposed a toast to friends, to Ginny and to the Holyhead Harpies' first finals appearance in over a decade as the friends drained their glasses.

The party carried on for the next several hours. It was well past midnight when Ginny yawned and stretched, ready to call it a night. The fire-whiskey's effects had tapered off and the others agreed it was time for much some needed rest. Ginny had arranged for only three rooms and she well knew there would be no more vacancies for the night. Luna and Neville, obviously, would occupy one and she figured she would room with her brother leaving Harry the third; she had not anticipated Hermione. The brunette never seemed to care that much for quidditch.

Ginny sighed to herself. It had been so long since school, since those lazy summers at the Burrow, when they had lounged by the pond by day and stayed up talking by night. She missed those days. Hermione had always been her best friend but they had not really seen as much of each other as they once did. She missed Hermione. Things had been sort of weird between them since she and Ron broke up after the war. It was as though Hermione expected the redhead to be angry that things had not worked out with her brother. Ginny still did not know exactly why they had broken up. Hermione must have had her reasons. Ginny glanced over at Ron and, judging by the glazed look on his face, he was still in love with her. Poor guy.

Ginny wondered if Hermione would mind sharing with Harry-they were still close friends. Ginny knew she could not share with him because she had no intention of fanning any old flames by rooming with her ex, even for one night. As if reading her mind, Harry announced that he and Ron would share a room, leaving Hermione and Ginny the last one. 'Oh, that makes much more sense,' Ginny thought to herself, 'Why didn't I think of that?' Ginny just hoped she could stay awake long enough to catch up in private with Hermione for a while. Yawning, the friends made plans for brunch next day, wished each other a good night and headed off to their respective rooms, but not before congratulating Ginny one last time. "Thanks, everyone," she beamed, "See you in the morning," then she turned, "'Mione, you're with me," Ginny smiled at the brunette. The words transfigured Hermione's insides into butterflies again. She felt her heart flutter and jump as she followed Ginny into what would be their room for the night.