Disclaimer:  "Don't Need You to Tell Me I'm Pretty (to Make Me Feel Beautiful)" is sung by Samantha Mumba

Harry Potter and Company are owned by J. K. Rowling.  However, characterizations of how they act when they are 22 are purely speculation on my part.

            Hermione Granger sighed as she climbed out of her car.  Finally, she was home.  Home was a flat in downtown London that she shared with Ron Weasley.  She was glad to be home after her busy day at work.  Sometimes seemed like an Auror's work was never done she thought.  Even though Voldemort had been defeated the summer after graduation from Hogwarts, there were still evil wizards around.

            She entered the flat and was greeted by Crookshanks.  Although the cat had gotten older, he still carried himself like the cat she had fallen in love with.  Hermione dropped her bags by the couch in the living room and glanced at the clock.  Perfect.  She had just enough time for a shower before getting ready for the ball being held tonight.

            As she headed towards the bathroom, she stripped off her clothes and left them where they fell.  I'll pick them up before Ron gets home, she promised herself.  Ron had become somewhat of a neat freak about everywhere except his room.  Hermione usually understood his point of view, but tonight she really didn't think it would hurt to be a little messy.

            Hermione sighed as she stepped into the hot spray of water.   Ron will forgive me for the mess as long as he doesn't bring someone home with him… No, he promised to pick Hannah up at her house, so I should be safe.  Over the past five years, Ron had had his share of girlfriends.  Hermione, on the other hand, hadn't gone on more than two dates in that same time period.  Why would anyone go out with me? I'm not pretty, or "feminine" like other girls.  Most of the wizards who live in London have gone to Hogwarts, and I wasn't someone you'd want to date then.  She laughed bitterly.  I was outspoken and a know-it-all.  I had ink spots on almost all of my robes – very attractive, those ink spots are.  The only times I really looked GOOD were the Yule Balls my fourth and fifth year.  And, of course, I spent all my extra time in the library.  Most of the time, Hermione's inability to get a date didn't bug her.  However, on nights like tonight, she couldn't help but wish she was more like Lavender Brown or Parvati Patil, her former roommates at Hogwarts.  Hermione paused, trying to picture herself as Lavender.  The picture was so absurd; she had to laugh at herself.  Better to wish that Harry was still alive to escort me to these silly balls.

            Harry.  She paused. Why do my thoughts have to turn to him tonight?  It's bad enough that this ball is being held in celebration of the "Two Who Won" – Ron and me.  And yet, it seemed oddly appropriate to think of the third person in their trio – the most heroic of them all.  Why Harry, did you have to sacrifice yourself to defeat Voldemort permanently?  If you hadn't, then maybe life wouldn't be like this.  You were the Boy Who Lived.  How could the world have forgotten you already? 

            Five years of living in the flat had not changed much in it.  Hermione and Ron still considered it "Harry's flat," even though he had bought it for all three of them.  The three of them had argued over what the rooms were going to be, decorated the rooms together, and helped each other set up their bedrooms.  They had just finished getting everything settled in when the final battle occurred.  Neither Hermione nor Ron could bear to leave the flat that was Harry's final gift to them, so they had continued to share the flat.  Since Harry's death, Ron had taken over one of the spare bedrooms as his second room – Hermione never asked what he did in there.  She had a pretty good idea what it was, and didn't really want confirmation.  Ginny also had a permanent room in their flat.  As the years had gone on, things changed some in all the rooms – except one.  Harry's room remained untouched.  Neither one of them would even think about changing the room to something more practical.  It remained as a shrine to Harry, and to their past.

            Hermione climbed out of the shower and dressed quickly.  She put on the designer robes that Ginny had given her for her last birthday.  Since Ginny herself was the designer, the robes suited Hermione better than almost anything else fancy she had ever owned.  Ginny was Hermione's closest girl friend, and seemed to know exactly what Hermione would like, and would also look good in.  The robes were a periwinkle blue and hugged Hermione in all the right places.  They were cut so that they would flow as she danced.  I must thank Ginny again for these robes.  She's not a top fashion designer for nothing.  These remind me of the dress robes I wore to the Yule Ball fourth year.

            As Hermione walked out to the living room, she began to sing a song that was stuck in her head.  "I don't need you to tell me I'm pretty to make me feel beautiful.  I don't need you to give me your strength to make me feel I'm strong.  I got all of the strength that I need here inside my own two hands.  All that I want is your love and respect for who I am.  What I really need comes from deep inside of me."  She was looking for the necklace Harry had given her for Christmas their 7th year at Hogwarts.  How did he know what to say to make me feel needed?  "After all, 'Mione, you need something other than books to remember me – and Ron – by."  He had meant it jokingly, but less than a year later he was dead, and it was the only real reminder of him that she had.  She located it next to one of the dozens of pictures of the trio scattered around the room.  It's a little simple when compared to the dress, but I really don't have anything else…

            Her eyes dropped to the picture sitting on the coffee table.  It had been after a Quidditch game.  Ron had finally made the team their fifth year – as the Keeper.  They had just won the game, and were heading back in to celebrate.  Hermione was walking in between Ron and Harry; her black school robes a stark contrast to the scarlet robes the boys were wearing.  All three were smiling as they walked along. 

            As Hermione ran her hand over the picture, lost in thought, a familiar voice made her jump startled.  "Finally out of the shower, eh?" 

She turned towards Ron, who must have snuck in the room without her realizing it.  He was standing behind her, smirking.  There was a box in his hands.  Probably another gift for Hannah.  She shook her head, both to clear her head of the memories that were haunting her, and to get rid of that catty voice which sounded just a bit jealous.  Ron can give gifts to whomever he wants she told herself.

Ron brought her out of her daze by saying, "Thinking of Harry, why am I not surprised?"

"How did you know that?" Hermione demanded, surprised that he had guessed that.  Sometimes, he's almost as scary as a mind reader.

"Honestly, 'Mione, I've known you for twelve years.  Besides the fact that today's the five year anniversary of the day he died, you're staring at that picture like his image is going to suddenly decide to disappear and never return."  His blue eyes sparkled for a second, then turned serious.  "Hermione, I know you better than anyone.  I notice things, even when you think I don't.

Feeling uncomfortable, Hermione quickly asked, "What's in the box?"

Ron handed it to her, "It's for you.  Open it."  She did so.  Inside was a stunning necklace with sparkling blue stones.  The neck was made to look like a vine, and the stones were strategically set to look like roses.  The stones matched her dress perfectly.  This must have cost a fortune.  And here I was thinking he only bought gifts for his girlfriends… Don't you feel stupid now, Hermione!  But where did he get them from?

Ron must have done that mind reading trick again, because then next thing he said was, "They're from the vault."  He didn't say which vault, but there was no need to ask whose vault it had been.  He continued, "I knew they'd be perfect when Ginny showed me the color of your dress.  I stopped by on the way home and picked it up for you."

"It's beautiful Ron.  Thank you.  Could you help me put it on?"  Hermione turned around.  Why would I have thought he'd actually BUY something for me?  Stupid, stupid Hermione!  Ron's hand briefly touched her neck as he clasped the necklace around her neck.  The feel of his fingers on her neck made her heart beat faster for a second.  Hush, its just nerves.

As she turned around, she noticed Ron didn't appear affected by the intimate touch.  Instead he said, "Right, must be off to pick up Hannah.  See you at the ball."  With that, he disappated.

Hermione stood there, slightly shocked.  Of course Ron wouldn't have felt anything.  He's with Hannah, and appears happy with her.  After all he's stayed with her for more than two months.  That's a record for Ron these days.  Stop it!  There has to be a logically reason Ron's turned into such a playboy.  For all I know, he could be trying to make up for what Harry's missing.  What I should be trying to figure out is how he can claim to understand me so well while I just can't understand him anymore.

She glanced at the clock.  Thinking about Ron had made her later than she would have liked.  Great.  Late to my own party.  What an influence I am.