The weather had grown chillier, but Hermione didn't want to go inside until Harry arrived. They'd missed their usual lunch over the last few weeks, because they'd both been so busy, and since Hermione had had to work later than usual this evening, and Harry had been busy as well, they'd decided to skip dinner and go to the cinema instead. Now, however, it seemed that Harry had gotten stuck even later than she had. Hermione fanned the two already-purchased tickets in her cold fingers, hoping they wouldn't miss the beginning.

"Bloody Ministry... full idiots... late again." He looked both ways on the street before jogging across, holding a hand up when a car decided he hadn't move fast enough and blasted their horn. He sent them a glare and continued across, dodging a couple who decided that holding hands on a crowded street was the best course of action. Of course, this would have been better if there hadn't been a four foot gap between their bodies. Growling and angry, Harry spotted Hermione waiting outside the building. Why didn't she go inside?

As he neared, he saw her cheeks flushed in the cold. Great. Now I feel even guiltier. He smiled at her embarrassedly when he caught her eye. "Sorry. Sorry. If I could hex the whole of the ministry, I would."

Hermione smiled, and reached out to hug him quickly, before heading speedily towards the door. "Oh, that's all right," she said, waving her hand in the air and then passing him his ticket. "I was a bit late, too. Dr. Hamlin seems to imagine when I don't have proper work at Flourish and Blotts, it means he can keep me in the lab at all hours. And sometimes we both get a little absorbed in our work, and..." She shrugged. "Anyway, I understand. When the Ministry calls, you don't have much choice."

She joined the line for snacks, and ordered a large popcorn and at least three different kinds of sweets. The last she'd eaten had been a ham and cheese sandwich on her break, hours ago. Finishing up her "dinner" with a large soda, Hermione grinned at Harry's incredulous expression, and passed over the bag of popcorn for him to carry.

"I'm a little hungry," she explained. They handed their tickets to the girl collecting them, and then took the escalator up to the theatre. That was another thing Hermione missed in the wizarding world--escalators. As a little girl, she'd loved to run down the up escalators, and try to beat them at their own game; sometimes, her magic had manifested itself in odd ways, and helped her accomplish this impossible goal. But the wizarding world didn't need escalators; their staircases moved in very different ways.

Harry took a bite of the popcorn, looking at the people milling around them, waiting for their movies to start. He missed being in a crowd and not worrying if someone was hiding a wand under their coat or in their pocket. He looked over at Hermione and smiled, chewing on her popcorn. He put a hand at the small of her back when they reached the top, turning the corner and heading towards their theater. "I saw Ron last week." He rose an eyebrow at her look as he opened the door to the theater. The previews were rolling on the screen, and Harry let her choose where they'd sit.

He pushed the seat down, leaning back and taking a quick survey of the room. It was habit, and he made sure to know where the exits were if needed. He leaned over towards her, whispering. "I think we may be the oldest people in this theater without children as our excuse."

Hermione giggled. "Should we steal a couple and make believe?" she teased. "I think you're making everyone suspicious, staring around like that. They might suspect we really do want to run off with their kids!" She tilted her head and leaned it on his shoulder; the lights dimmed as the usual admonishments about silencing mobile phones and not throwing trash on the floor blinked furiously at the audience. "This better be good," she threatened. "Or we'll look ridiculous."

She kept her tone light, hoping Harry wouldn't mention Ron again. She hadn't seen him in weeks--they were supposed to be dating, but Hermione had pleaded working or tired whenever he tried to meet up...which wasn't often. Their relationship was already floundering, and it had barely even restarted. Hermione was at a bit of a loss as to how to salvage even their friendship, at this rate. Things were just so...awkward. And it didn't help that she'd had Charlie's muscled chest to stare at over breakfast the other morning. Ron was fit, but Charlie was...Charlie was different. Although Hermione couldn't quite put a finger on why, or how.

The lights turned off completely, and the opening music began to play. Hermione settled down into her seat, and began to crunch loudly on her popcorn. Ordinarily, she might have felt it was rude to chew so loudly, but they were surrounded by the sounds of whining, wriggling children, so she thought she might be able to get away with it, for once.

Harry grabbed a handful of her popcorn and crunched right along with her. He rolled his eyes when a child behind him kicked the back of his seat. He leaned closer to  Hermione. "No offense, but I'm not really ready for children. Stolen or otherwise." He smiled when she snorted and took a drink of her soda. He sat back in his chair, shaking his head and rolling his eyes again, perhaps a little angrily, when the same kid kicked the back of his seat again.

He tried to pay attention to the fact that people had been turned into pigs on the big screen, but all around him were the squeaks of chairs, the sound of kids asking their parents for more candy, and he could actually smell the dirt and stickiness on their little hands. He turned around and glared at the kid when he sent a very hard kick into what felt like Harry's kidneys.

The kid seemed to shrink back in his seat, but the boy's mother sent Harry a look that dared him to actually say anything. Throwing the woman a glare, Harry turned around, putting an arm around Hermione's shoulder. "You know, I don't think I'd actually want to steal any of the kids from here. Doesn't look like they're trained very well."

"Harry!" Hermione hissed, mortified. "They're small children! They can't help it!"

Then the boy's little sister sent a vicious kick into the back of Hermione's seat, and she let out a small yelp. She was having trouble focusing on poor Chihiro, who seemed to be panicking at the discovery of this bizarre magical world. All she could focus on was the constant squirming of the girl in the seat behind her.

"Should we move?" Hermione whispered. "I mean--it's for their own benefit, right? We're probably blocking their view." She said this firmly, as though trying to convince herself that her reason for moving wasn't motivated by the purely selfish desire to escape the pain in her backside.

"We're not moving."

Harry ground his teeth together when two feet were thrown into the back of his seat, clearly on purpose. He reached up and ran a hand through his hair, casting a silent charm on his hand, spreading the gel around though his locks. He brought both hands up and made his hair as wide as physically possible. He heard the grunt of anger from the little boy. Harry's hair was already rather disheveled and in the way. Now it was even more so. He looked over at Hermione and smiled, raising his eyebrow in challenge.

Hermione had even less work to do. She merely pulled the ponytail holder out of her hair and let it spring free, creating a bushy mass of curls guaranteed to block any child's view of the screen. She felt somewhat mean, torturing these small children, but she wasn't enjoying the feeling of small light-up sneakers being dug into her back, and hopefully this would teach those rude children a lesson.

To her dismay, however, their mother huffed, and gathered the various snacks, sweatshirts and pocketbooks scattered around her children, before moving them to another aisle on the opposite side of the theatre. Hermione heard the commotion travel across the room as they stepped on everyone in the middle's toes, and then the satisfying sound of a bucket of popcorn tumbling to the ground.

Hermione giggled happily, and prodded Harry in the ribs. "Mission accomplished!" she chirped. She had completely lost track of what was going on in the film now--Chihiro seemed to have met a rather handsome-looking boy, but there was an ancient crone involved as well. Hermione was reminded somewhat oddly of a female, obese Snape, and to remove this terrifying thought from her brain, decided to talk to Harry instead.

"So, I hear Hannah Abbott's been living with you for some time now?" she asked. "How's that working out? I heard about her bastard of a fiance. What a shame."

Harry's eyes narrowed as he took in the images on the screen. He thought he recognized some of the voices, but was too distracted by Hermione's statement to concentrate. "Yeah. It's torture. She listened to Celine Dion for 5 hours. 5 hours!" He grinned when he heard someone shush him from farther back in the theater. "She's doing better. I think I might have to hex Blaise Zabini, though, so I guess something good came of it."

He reached for her popcorn but she pulled it out of his reach. He sighed when he saw her look. "He had sex. With Luna Lovegood, when he knew Hannah liked him." He shook his head and glared up at the screen. "Alright, so he might not have known she liked him, but Hannah doesn't really hide her emotions well, so he had to have known. Either way, he hurt her, and she tortured me, and I plan to return the favor."

"He had sex with Luna?" Hermione shrieked. The children in the theatre fell silent, and Hermione's cheeks burned red with embarrassment as she sunk into her seat. Bringing her voice back down to a whisper, she added, "And she's in love with Blaise? Zabini? That's mad. That's absolutely mad." She fixed Harry with a steely glare. "But you're even madder if you even think twice about hexing that Slytherin! He's got more tricks up his sleeves than anyone I know, and all of his Slytherin mates are back in town, if I've heard rightly. Don't you dare, Harry! It's not worth it, and honestly, Hannah Abbott's heart is clearly broken as easily as a teacup. He doesn't deserve it. Save yourself for Auror training, honestly."

He gave her an exasperated look. "Look, he's a git anyway. If he doesn't deserve it for this, I'm sure I can find some other reason for him to deserve it."

Hermione shook her head disapprovingly. "You need to take a break from everyone else's romantic troubles and focus on your own," she said determinedly. "Just last week I read that you and your 'Muggle girlfriend' were expecting triplets! With all the pain the press gives you, wouldn't you at least like to be enjoying some of the pleasure they're so keen on reporting?"

He turned very slowly to look at her. "Are you telling me that if you're saying I'm out there whoring it up, I might as well be actually doing it?" He turned back and looked at the screen. "Because if you're telling me to have sex, I think the sugar has actually started to go to your head." He grabbed her box of chocolate covered raisins and held it out of reach. "Really."

He popped a few pieces into his mouth. "Don't try to live vicariously through me, Hermione. I'm very boring. Besides..." He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "Just cause you and Ron aren't having sex doesn't mean the rest of us need to."

Hermione choked loudly on the sour gummy worm that had been slithering halfway down her throat; the sound echoed through the theatre loudly, and she heard more than one annoyed mother clucking angrily as she hacked away at the candy until her eyes stopped watering and she could breathe again.

"How," she gasped, "on earth do you know that?"

Honestly! She'd at least done Ron the favor of keeping her mouth shut and not telling Harry every little thing about their pseudo-relationship. The least Ron could do was extend the favor! Honestly!

"And for that matter--wait a minute," said Hermione, working her way through his sentence. "'Doesn't mean the rest of us need to--' Need to what? Not have sex? Are you having sex? With who?" She nearly pounced on him, eyes bright.

Harry ignored the father who cleared his throat loudly to no avail. "Firstly, I watched you two dance around each other for 7 years, Hermione. Believe it or not, I'm not as oblivious as you two seem to think I am." He sighed. "Secondly, no. I'm not having sex with anyone. Anymore. Ever again."

Hermione rubbed the back of her neck, slightly mortified that it was so obvious she and Ron weren't getting along as swimmingly as they tried to make it appear. "Well, hopefully my sex life isn't entirely dead, despite Ron," she muttered to herself, perhaps a bit too loudly. She glanced at the screen in a desperate attempt to stop giving Harry the third degree, but the dancing of the cartoon characters on the screen to the loud, jangly music didn't make it any better. She turned to him again, and simply said, "Ever again? Does that imply you were recently...?" She trailed off, waiting for Harry to fill in the blanks.

"Having sex? Yes. I had sex. With a girl." He laughed when he heard someone huff angrily below them. "Once. Since Ginny. And it was wrong. Well, it wasn't wrong, but it was wrong. And we both know that now. And I think it's alright. I think. I hope." He rolled his eyes and himself. "You know, for me not really thinking about you like a girl, you sure do know how to make me talk like a girl."

"Hey!" Hermione cried, feigning insult. "I'm definitely a girl, you know! Haven't you noticed these things over the past few years or so?" she joked, pointing at her breasts. (A scandalized mother sitting across the aisle from them scooped up her young son and dragged him, wailing, out of the theatre.) "And, goodness. You lucky bastard. I haven't gotten laid since--since--"

Since George's funeral said Hermione's inner voice, but obviously she couldn't admit that. Harry would get suspicious.

"Well, for a long time. Anyway, what do you mean it was wrong? Who was it? It wasn't Hannah? Is that why you're so quick to hex Zabini?"

Harry blinked. "No. No, it was not with Hannah Abbott. And you? Who was your last sexual partner?" He let out a loud laugh when the people in front of them left in a hurry. Pretty soon they'd have the theater to themselves. "Anyone I know?" When she didn't say anything, he turned and looked at her with wide eyes. "Oh, Merlin, I do know them, don't I?"

"Maybe," said Hermione in a very small voice. "But, look, Harry, it's not what you think! I swear. I was drunk, and he was drunk, and it was a very confusing night, and I--I think we both realize it can't happen again, or that will really mess things up with Ron, and--"

She froze. The sugar had clearly made her brain short-circuit. Had she just said all of that? Aloud?

Harry looked around the theater and decided this was probably not the best place for this conversation, despite the fact that everyone who'd stuck it out and stayed in the theater had made their way as far from the pair as possible. "We should... go... elsewhere to talk about this. If you want to talk about it. I can drop it if you're uncomfortable."

Truthfully, Harry wanted to sit her down and threaten her under penalty of hexing for the name of who'd touched her, other than Ron, so that he could personally see that they're in pain for taking advantage of her being drunk.

"Oh, no, I don't want you to miss the end!" Hermione cried, tears pricking at her eyes. She always got so emotional when Harry turned on his protective side.

"Hermione, I have no idea what's going on in the film. It's not going to matter if we leave. In fact," he tossed a look around and tried to count how many death glares were being send their way, "I think it'd be perfectly fine if we left."

At her look, he decided for himself. "Alright. We're leaving."

"Finally!"

Harry glared in the direction of the back of the theater. "Stop making babies! The world is overpopulated as it is!" He held out a hand, "just leave the popcorn on the floor. They'll clean it up later."

Hermione bit her lip and dropped the bag hesitantly. When Harry had turned around, she picked it back up, and jammed it in a rubbish bin on the way out. She followed Harry outside the cinema; the cafe next door had closed for the night, and they plopped down on the cold metal chairs.

"So. Going to grill me now, I suppose?" asked Hermione, with a small, rueful smile. "Does that mean you'll tell me who you slept with?"

"Morag MacDougal. And you?" Harry rose an eyebrow, sticking his hands deep into his pockets. He didn't mean to push so hard, but he didn't like knowing that she was so nervous about the situation. Yes, she'd been drunk and she said it wasn't a big deal, but Harry took that as a very big deal.

"Wow, I didn't expect you to be so forthright," Hermione laughed. Morag MacDougal. She would never have expected that one. Mac was so--so brash. Hermione had to admit Mac was one of the few girls she was afraid of. It had something to do with how easily Mac abandoned her wand. Hermione wasn't able to relinquish hers so easily. Mac was--Mac was a little mad, to be honest.

But that wasn't what this was about. She'd promised Harry if he told, she would tell. Hermione took a deep breath, and focused on her shoes. "Sharveeweevly," she muttered, her cheeks flaming red.

Harry leaned forward a bit. "Come again?"

"Charlie. Weasley," Hermione ground out, clenching her jaw and staring resolutely at the ground.

He blinked. "Come again?" He coughed, clearing his throat a bit. He was pretty sure his voice had broke when he said that. "I'm pretty sure you just said Charlie Weasley took advantage of you when you were drunk. And if that's what you said, he will be the only Weasley without red hair. I will have plucked it out, strand by strand, very, very slowly."

He sat back in the chair, ignoring how he could feel the cold bars even through his coat. "How? When?"

Hermione still wouldn't look at him. She began to pick at her cuticles as she spoke.

"He didn't take advantage of me. It was--it was George's funeral. And I was a wreck. And everyone was elsewhere, and he...he took care of me. But we were both miserable, Harry, and we both ended up having too much to drink...trying to drown out George's death, and...well...to be honest, I took advantage of him."

She straightened up. "And that's it," she said firmly. "He went back to Romania, and I sent him a birthday and a Christmas card and that was it. Everything's over."

"So, he shags you the night of his brother's funeral and then doesn't say anything for years? Years? No letters, no nothing? Everything's over? I don't know whether to be mad he shagged you in the first place, or that he just felt it like that." He sighed, running a hand over his face. "'Mione, I'm sorry to be so shocked, but I am. I didn't know you even liked him." Or that he thought about you as anything but a sister...

"Well, he sent cards back," said Hermione feebly. She sighed. "Harry, I didn't know it either. And he didn't 'just feel like it'. I mean, he did, but so did I. He's--he's...interesting. And funny. And attractive. And I was drunk, and he was drunk, and well, sex just felt right, that night. But I mean it when I say it's over. It's not important in the slightest." She squared her jaw, and lifted her chin.

"I know you, Hermione. There is nothing that's 'not important' to you." He leaned forward and grabbed her hand. "I'll drop it. Besides, it's not like we'll be seeing him very often, what with him being in Romania and what not." He stood pulling her under his arm. "Let's get you out of the cold."

Hermione swallowed, and nodded. Harry knew her better than she knew herself. She tucked her head against his shoulder, and wrapped an arm around his waist. As they walked down the street, she realized gratefully that he seemed to have forgotten that Charlie wasn't in Romania...he was in her flat, probably sleeping bare-chested on the sofa, potentially waiting up for her, with that annoyingly sexy smirk on his face.