A/N: There you are! A long chapter this time! I hope you guys enjoy. Sorry it took so long to update. I do the best I can. Thanks for reading! Please review for dear ol'me.

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Chapter Seven: Drinking with the Enemy

The next morning, Mrs. Granger received two luncheon invitations from Harry and Hermione, both wishing to discuss something important with her. Having to get together with her publishers in London anyway, she met up with them over at a muggle restaurant nearby King's Cross station around noon.

"Oh, I don't know what I want," Mrs. Granger sighed as she placed her menu back on the table. She was sitting between Harry and her daughter who both were covering their faces with their menus. "And stop stalling anyway you two," she told them, "Tell me the talk I was promised."

"Coming up," replied Hermione from behind the menu.

"You want a soapbox?" Harry asked sarcastically, setting his menu aside.

Hermione closed her menu, revealing her face, "No," she said calmly, glaring at him, "I don't need any," she tossed her own menu down the table, "I'm not selling anything."

Mrs. Granger looked down at the table, "Come, come, come," she interrupted quickly in an attempt to avoid another argument, "Let's have it."

After a few moments of silence, Hermione placed her hands neatly on the table, "Well mother," she began, "I'm in love with Ron."

Mrs. Granger did a double take and stared incredulously at her daughter. Meanwhile, Harry affixed a permanent scowl on his face in response to every word she uttered.

"That's the big idea," she continued, "And he's in love with me."

Mrs. Granger started to fold and refold her napkin on the table, as if it was the only thing keeping her serene, "Talked it all over eh?"

"We haven't said a word," Hermione replied.

"And Lavender?" she asked, rather shortly, "Where does she come in?"

"I don't know."

Mrs. Granger finally looked up from the table at her daughter, "Have you any plans?" she asked.

"No, we didn't talk," Hermione looked away before muttering, "I wish there wasn't any Lavender."

Mrs. Granger folded her arms together, "What makes you think he is in love with you?"

Hermione gestured her head across the table, "Harry did," she mentioned casually.

Meg frowned, "No jokes today Mione, please."

"Alright," Hermione sighed and faced her mother; "I just mean that Ron didn't try anything with me and I know that he was happy."

"What do you think will happen?" she asked.

Hermione shrugged her shoulders, "He'll get a divorce and marry me."

Harry, who had remained quiet throughout this conversation, chose this moment to stifle a derisive laugh, "Listen to her will you?"

"Alright," she snapped at him, "You talk and I'll listen. What do you think is going to happen? It ought to be good!"

"I've got no kicks with what is really going to happen," he told her frankly, the volume of his voice increased as he continued, "He isn't going to marry you. He isn't going to get a divorce. That's not the way it's going to be! My only quarrel with you is that you're just trying to kid yourself!"

"I'm not doing anything of the kind," Hermione shot back defensively.

Harry rubbed his forehead gently, "Don't give me anymore, I can't stand it," he cried in frustration.

"I'm not giving you anything!" she exclaimed, "I wouldn't give you anything!"

"Now, now," Mrs. Granger interjected, "Don't fight!"

"Oh mother," Hermione sighed, "Harry's got such a rotten outlook on things."

Harry sat up, "Now stop rewriting me," he told her with a grimace, "It's just the baloney I think is rotten. I told you, I've got no quarrels about what's really going to work out," he shook his head, "As far as I'm concerned, that's alright!"

"Oh yeah?" Hermione raised her voice.

"Yeah!" Harry countered.

"Well, it's not alright with me!" Mrs. Granger interrupted them again. She glanced back and forth at the two of them. "But I don't know what I can do about it," she added.

"Oh mother, it's not going to be like that," she assured her, "In spite of what Harry says." She shot a menacing look at him before turning back to her, "I promised you I tried to get interested in something else. Well it didn't work. And if Ron loves me as much as I love him, and I think he does, he can't keep on with Lavender. Whatever happens, it will all be out in the open. That's why I'm telling you all this, and I'm going to tell Lavender."

"Well, that ought to make for a beautiful friendship," said Harry sardonically.

Mrs. Granger pleaded, "But Herm—"

"It's no use Meg," Harry cuts her off, "Hermione Granger's discovered life and love!"

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Lavender heard a slight tapping noise outside her window. She had been in bed all day, still recovering from her cold. Reluctantly, she climbed out of bed and made her way over to the window. There, she found a small brown owl with an envelope addressed to her. She quickly retrieved it and made her way back into bed.

Leaning back against the pillow, she tore open the envelope. The note simply read:

Dear Lavender,

I want to let you know I had a wonderful time with Ron at the match last night. Something has been brought to my attention. Please try to understand what I am going to say. The other night, I said a lot of things about friendship. I meant them then, but now, I'm afraid they're not true anymore. At least, not for me. What I'm trying to say is, I'm still in love with Ron.

Sincerely,

Hermione

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Later that day, Lavender was sitting at the dresser, replaying the note over and over again in her head. She was so absorbed in her thoughts she didn't even realize that Ron had entered the bedroom until he swooped down and gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead.

"Hello dear," he greeted cheerfully.

"Hello sweetheart," she replied, putting a fake smile on her face.

"Feeling better?"

"Much," she told him teasingly, "Aren't you going to take my temperature?"

Ron grinned and patted her head playfully, "Perfectly normal," he declared, "I cured in one sitting." He sat himself down on the couch, next to the dressing table.

"Ah I see," she nodded, applying some powder on herself, "A swell-headed medi-wizard eh?" Lavender looked over at her husband, "No darling, don't sit over there. Run and get dressed. We're going to be late."

"For what?" he asked.

"Now you know we're going over to Parvati's for dinner tonight," she reminded him.

Ron stood up and walked over to close the bedroom door, "You know, I've completely forgotten all about that."

Lavender noticed him hanging quietly by the door, "Is there anything on your mind Ron?" she asked nonchalantly, "You seem a little preoccupied."

"No, nothing," he answered, standing over her, "Just business I guess."

"Is father driving you hard again?" she picked up her brush and started fixing her hair.

"Yeah, what's the idea?" Ron remarked, "You know I didn't get out of there until 4:30 today?"

"Oh, poor thing," she commented without taking her eyes off the mirror, "Then what did you do?"

"Well I felt so walled in, I went over to the Burrow and played some Quidditch with Ginny and the twins," he replied, making his way to the bathroom.

"Umm, Hermione wrote to me today," Lavender blurted out, staring at Ron's reflection in the mirror.

Ron already opened the bathroom door halfway before turning back around, "Oh did she?"

"Umm hmm"

"What did she say?" he inquired offhandedly.

Lavender paused for a split second, before telling him; "She just mentioned she had a great time at the match last night." She thought she saw a sense of relief swept over her husband's eyes.

"Good," Ron responded simply before disappearing into the bathroom. Lavender stared at the reflection of the bathroom door, a worried expression cast on her face.

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After a refreshing shower, Ron walked across the hall to get dress in the study. As soon as he was ready, he quickly grabbed his cloak from the hall closet and went back to the bedroom to check on Lavender.

He entered to find Lavender, dressed in her nightgown, sitting in bed. "What's the matter?" Ron asked.

"I'm not going dear," she gave him a weak smile.

"You're not?" Ron raised his eyebrows.

"No," she told him, "I really don't feel up to it."

Ron frowned, "Well, if you're too ill, I'll stay—"

"No, no, I'm okay," Lavender assured him, "I just think it's silly to risk it."

"Oh"

Are you going to go alone?" she asked.

"No," he replied uneasily, shaking his head, "I don't think so."

"Well then," she folded her hands together, "I'll tell you what to do," she said, "There isn't any dinner here. Why don't you go to Diagon Alley like you used to do before you were married and eat there?" she suggested cheerfully.

Ron perked up, "Say why not? I'll dine there, have a few drinks, chat with the boys and then come home," he walked around the bed over to Lavender's side.

"Right," she agreed, "It's made to order."

He planted a kiss on her forehead, "No," he corrected with a grin, "It's the order of my maid." With that, he left the room just before Lavender's eyes started filling up with tears.

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A few hours later, after getting together with some old friends at the Leaky Cauldron, Ron marched straight up to the bar for a drink. "Hello, Tom," he greeted, sitting himself down.

"Evening," said Tom, wiping the counter in front of him.

"I would like one of anything," he ordered merrily.

"Alright," Tom replied before turning around to fill the order.

Just then, an inebriated Harry staggered over to him and called out, "Not THE Mr. Ronald Weasley."

"I'm afraid I don't---" Ron started to say.

"No," he quickly interjected, "You don't know me," Harry narrowed his eyes, "But I know you. I'm Harry Potter."

"Oh yes," Ron nodded, "Hermione Granger told me about you. You're on her paper. The cartoonist."

Harry held onto the counter for support, "Staff artist to you," he said disdainfully.

"Have it your own way," Ron shrugged his shoulders, brushing off the last remark, "How about a drink?" he offered.

"What are you having?' Harry asked, barely able to keep his eyes open.

"Anything."

"I'll take the same," Harry said as he propped himself on the stool next to him.

Ron called over to the barkeep, "Make that two, Tom." He turned his attention back towards his new drinking partner, "Seen Mione lately?"

"I had lunch with her today," he slurred.

"Oh how is she?" Ron inquired.

Harry tried to lean in, but grabbed the counter just in time to keep from falling over, "Don't you know?"

"Oh I haven't seen her since last night," he told him.

Harry rested his elbows on the counter and stared right into Ron's eyes, "I don't like you," he said frankly.

"No?" Ron asked calmly, "What do you have against me?"

"Lots."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," Harry added, "And there's more."

"More eh?"

"Yeah. There's Hermione," he slurred, "Why don't you lay off?"

"I just told you," said Ron, "I haven't seen her since last night."

"Yeah, but you're going to," he muttered.

"What's that to you anyway?" Ron asked, still trying to maintain his cool composure. Just then, Tom came back with two shots of dark brown liquid. He picked up his glass, "A short life but a happy one," he cheered before downing the contents.

Harry raised his own glass slowly, "A short life to you," he said before emptying his drink.

Ron glared at him contemptuously, "What's that to you?" he demanded, his temper slowly rising.

"Not a thing," Harry coolly sets his glass back on the counter, "I just think she's too good for you," he remarked.

"Oh you do eh?"

"How about a round on me?" he suggested.

Ron glowered at him but nodded.

"Another round Tom," Harry ungracefully waves his hand at the barkeep before looking directly into Ron's eyes. "Why don't you lay off of Hermione?

"You've said that before," he retorted.

"It's worth repeating."

Ron observed him suspiciously, "You know, I don't like you much either."

As if on cue, Tom sets another round of drinks in front of them.

"No?"

"No."

Harry raised his glass and announced, "To our meeting."

Ron picked up his glass and added, "Yeah, may it end quickly."

After gulping down his drink, Harry noticed that Ron left his untouched. "Well, drink up," he said, "It's my turn."

"No thanks," he sets his glass back on the counter.

"Oh," Harry sneered, "Can't take it?"

Ron shot him a menacing glance, "It's not the drink, it's the company."

Harry smirked, "I see what you mean," he nodded. "Why don't you lay off Hermione?" he repeated again.

"Say, why don't I give you a punch in the nose," Ron threatened, making a fist.

"Well, why don't you?" Harry shot back.

"I think I will!" With that, the two wizards stood up, preparing to fight.

"Gentlemen, gentlemen," Tom pleaded, "Not in here please."

"Don't worry Tom," Ron assured him without taking his eyes off of Harry, "This will only take a minute."

Unfortunately for a very intoxicated Harry, he could barely stay standing. He puts his arms up and balled up his fists, "Quit stall---"

In a flash, Ron punched him right in the nose. Harry immediately falls to the floor.

"Sorry Tom," Ron apologized as he tossed a few coins on the counter. "Thanks for the drink, old man," he called out to Harry before leaving the pub.

Tom quickly made his way around the bar. He and another customer helped Harry back on his feet. "Are you alright, Mr. Potter?" he asked.

"Sure, I'm alright," Harry slurred, completely unfazed, "I always get hit."

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