"Ahem." Hermione Granger gave her throat a quiet clearing, and smoothed over her black satin skirt. This was not a nervous action; Hermione was bored. The scene around her was perfect, or it should have been anyway. She was seated at a small, round table-for-two in the most romantic muggle restaurant in London. She had always wanted to come to this place; to eat a simple, romantic dinner with someone she loved. The scene was just as she had always pictured such an event in her head – the table had a white linen table cloth, there were two lit, tapered candles in silver holders, and the lights were dim (but not dim enough to cause issues with sight).

Even the dishes were perfect. The white china with no adornment at all was framed by several rows of silverware and a perfect crystal wine glass. The room contained big bay windows which overlooked the city from the private second floor loft in which they were seated. One might wonder why, in such a lovely situation, Hermione felt so unaffected. In fact, she thought to herself, she was lonely.

She was not alone, but lonely was an apt word to use. The man sitting across from her at the table was as hollowly perfect as the scene around her. He was tall, but not gangly. He had red hair, but no freckles. He had blue eyes, and perfectly straight teeth. He was pale, but not ghastly. He had muscles, but they were obviously wrought in a gym, not from real life experience. He was smart, and he was funny, and he was a successful ministry warlock. His name was Gregory Bale.

That last fact was, Hermione supposed, the real problem. He was "her type", she supposed, or at least everyone else told her this frequently. Gregory (never Greg) worked in the department of mysteries; everything he did there remained, of course, a mystery. Hermione had decided to work in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office, with Arthur Weasley as her boss. She had bumped into Gregory one day on the elevator, and they had started a conversation about fountain pens. She had chuckled at the silliness of their conversation, and he had smiled at her earnest nature and beauty. He asked her out for a butterbeer that evening, and she had accepted.

She supposed she had just lost track of the time she and Gregory had been together. After that one coffee he asked her out again, and she accepted again, and things had just followed in that pattern ever since. The first time they had kissed, it was awkward. They bumped noses, and when their lips finally met up there was no heat or passion. When, several months later, they had sex (Hermione could never bring herself to call it making love), she had no orgasm. In fact, she rarely ever climaxed. He was the first wizard she had ever been with, though she had come close with… well, she had come close.

Eventually, he asked her to move in with him. Hermione couldn't bear giving up her independence, so she refused. He was hurt, but he recovered. Gregory wasn't the type to hold grudges. In fact, he wasn't the type to express any kind of real emotion. This though caused Hermione to sigh almost imperceptibly.

She wondered why she had so much time to think about all this at a romantic dinner with her boyfriend of two years. Shouldn't she be looking at him lovingly and picturing the evening they would spend together? No. There was no passion between them. She loved Gregory, she did, but she loved him as a friend. There were many parts of her day that she never even spoke of; especially parts pertaining to Arthur Weasley.

She loved Arthur as a sort of surrogate father, even though she had both of her own parents. Her parents still worked as dentists, and she visited them every other Sunday to have dinner. They had met Arthur and Molly both, and the four of them got on quite well together. Working with Arthur lead to many run ins with Ron, along with the fact that he was an Auror for the ministry.

Hermione had never been surprised that Ron made it as an Auror. He had studied harder than anyone, and trained harder than anyone, to get the job. The war had been training enough. He had fought alongside her and Harry. There had been tough nights and longer days, and everyone secretly prayed that their cause wasn't hopeless. Harry and Voldemort had battled to the death – Voldemort's death, but nearly Harry's as well. All the Horcruxes had been destroyed, and it had been discovered that Harry himself was the seventh Horcrux. This had caused much panic, but Hermione had mulled it over and come to the startling conclusion that because Voldemort now had Harry's blood in him, he carried around the seventh Horcrux inside of him in the form of Harry's blood.

The war had ended, and Hermione and Ron had drifted apart. It hurt her to think of him. They still talked and carried on as friends, but it wasn't the same. They never fought, and frequently they avoided each other's gaze. Things had become dark during the war, and after one night spent holding each other and snogging as though their lives depended upon it, Ron had become afraid that one of them would die. He ended their brief romance. He said he couldn't bear to lose Hermione as it was, and it was dangerous for them to let their guards down and take time away from the war. He also feared that he wouldn't be able to carry on if they let the spark between them flame.

When the war was over, things had become to strange between them to close the gap back to lovers. Ron had begun dating sporadically; he never had a serious commitment. Hermione had begun dating Gregory. She supposed the only thing about him that was really her type was the red hair. She couldn't bear talking to Gregory about Arthur because that made her think of Ron. Gregory knew nothing of Ron, except that he was Hermione's friend, and she wanted to keep it that way. Ron was the man she would always love, and Gregory was someone to love her instead. She felt awful for making him a substitute, but she felt she would fall to pieces with the loneliness if not for Gregory.

She knew she had to end things with him soon, though, because he kept hinting at marriage. She couldn't really understand why. They had been sitting here for a full half hour and not one word had been uttered. They had each started eating their food, and then finished eating their food, and now they were just sitting here looking at their laps.

Suddenly, Gregory coughed loudly. Hermione looked up, and Gregory smiled at her engagingly. She gave a weak smile back, and made to ask him if he was ready to leave. Gregory spoke first, however. He simply said her name, and then he pulled a black velvet box from his jacket pocket. Hermione flushed bright red, and her eyes filled with tears. Gregory assumed they were tears of love, and continued.

"Hermione Jane Granger, love of my life, will you marry me?"

Hermione entered her apartment an hour later alone. Her eyes were red from tears, and her heart hurt. She felt pangs of guilt for breaking Gregory's heart, but she felt it would have been worse to enter into an unhappy marriage with him. She had explained to Gregory how she felt, and told him about Ron. For the first time, she really told him everything she had been holding back. Gregory had silently closed the ring box and put it back in his jacket pocket.

"Hermione…" He could think of nothing else to say. A tear ran down his cheek, but he had known all along that she would say no. He had bought the ring as a sort of last ditch hope to bring them closer, and he knew it was time to end things. He didn't blame Hermione, but he was hurt, and they needed to spend a good while apart before he would be ready to try being her friend. Hermione understood this. They talked for an hour about things, and Hermione left the restaurant. She got to an isolated corner, and apparated home. Now that she was here, she wanted to be anywhere else.

Without much of a thought, she apparated to the burrow, seeking comfort in Mrs. Weasley. Unfortunately for her, what she found was not quite what she expected.