Ginny

Ginny had gotten the position of Sports Writer for The Wizard's Voice within two years of her graduation from Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She was quite a powerful Pureblood Witch, and her mother and father, Arthur and Molly Weasley, were extremely proud of her, as were her older brothers, Bill, Charlie, Fred, and George. She was the first daughter born into the Weasley family in generations, and, as such, was looked on very favorably by the Wizarding World, despite her father's enthusiasm about the No-Maj community.

Ginny's long-term boyfriend, Bulgarian Quidditch star Viktor Krum, was frequently on the road, and the pair of them had no plans to settle down as of yet. Despite the age difference of four years, things seemed okay between them, despite the notion that they weren't as hot and heavy as they had been in years' past. The pair of them did not live together, and Viktor would stay with Ginny whenever he was in town, or in the Krum family home in his native country. It had been Ginny's idea not to move in together, and although Viktor was in the States several times a year for interviews, games, or vacation time, he never pressed the issue.

Ginny, although her work was based in New York, had an exclusive Floo Connection which brought her to her beautiful, over two-hundred-year-old house in Manchester, Vermont. She had managed to save, save, and save for years, and now she was the proud owner of that she called the Weasley Estate. It was truly a beautiful home, with over ten-thousand square feet to its name, and she was immensely proud of it. Not many people knew about the house, save for Viktor, her parents, and brothers, but it was all right with her, as the more privacy that was afforded to her, the better she felt.

Which was likely why, after an intimate dinner the night before, in which correspondents from all the Wizarding newspapers that Ginny could think of—The Wizard's Voice, Witch Weekly, The Daily Prophet—had gotten a tipoff of where they were, probably from the gossip-hungry Patil twins, who worked in the culture and fashion section at Ginny's newspaper, Viktor had found himself on the couch that night. The newspapers had given Ginny an earful of Viktor's transgressions over his touring season, where illicit photographs were produced to Viktor in bed, walking around town, and kissing fellow Quidditch player, Angelina Johnson of one of the United Kingdom's Quidditch teams.

Ginny was waiting for Viktor when he woke up the following morning in her living room, and meandered his way up the stairs, calling her name. Once the door to the master bedroom opened, Ginny was on Viktor, throwing some of his Quidditch gear at him. "What do you want?!" she demanded of him, continually throwing some of his belongings (which, in retrospect, she wished she had not given in to his demands to keep there) at him, nailing him in the jaw, ribs, and shoulders, to name a few.

"Ginny, can we please talk about this?" Viktor pleaded, throwing up his beefy hands to keep his precious Quidditch paraphernalia from hitting him in the face.

"You want to talk, Viktor?" Ginny snapped at him. "All right, let's talk. About how it's never a good time to talk about your potential retirement, given that you're in your thirties now. Or, how about how you don't want to be seen with me in public, and only want to illude to the fact that we're in a relationship?"

"Ginny, it's not like that..."

Ginny shoved Viktor out of the bedroom. "Oh, I think it's plenty like that," she hissed at him, and glared up at him.

Viktor rolled his eyes. "The papers were wrong! I had no such relationship with Angelina! We are only good friends..."

"Well, you sure don't look like you're just good friends!" Ginny shouted, and threw the final bits and bobs out at Viktor, and slammed the door shut. Gritting her teeth, she heard the telltale sound of Shrinking Charms being utilized on the other side of the door, and then the hasty footsteps down the stairs and out the front door. Dashing across the room and throwing open her windows, she demanded, "Are you just going to leave?!"

Viktor rolled his eyes at her. "I don't know what else you expect me to do here..."

"I expect you to be honest with me," Ginny snapped at him. "We may as well be honest with each other here, Viktor. If you ever cared about me... I mean, did you?"

"Of course I did, Ginny! I still care for you!"

"All right, then," Ginny replied, crossing her arms. "Then, tell me. Did you sleep with Angelina Johnson at any point during our relationship?"

Viktor sighed, dragging a hand down his bearded face. "All right, Ginny," he said softly. "Yes, I slept with Angelina."

Ginny felt her heart pounding within her chest. "You what?" she whispered.

Viktor grimaced; at the end of the day, he had no wish to hurt Ginny. "Yes. It is easier with Angelina, because she is a pro-Quidditch player as well... We are always on the road, and she understands what that life is like, not being on the sidelines... She... We're in love. She's going to retire soon, because we're going to have a baby together," he said at last, and Ginny found herself gaping at him. "Are you happy?" he asked her.

Ginny's jaw nearly hit the floor completely as she turned away from the balcony and dashed back into the master bedroom.

"Ginny?" Viktor called out, and sighed, thinking he had royally screwed up.

Ginny, meanwhile, left the master bedroom and flew down the stairs, down the hallway, and towards the front door, which she threw open, and stomped towards Viktor. "Did you just say, 'Am I happy'?" she demanded of him, seething.

Viktor sighed. "That's not what I meant, Ginny," he assured her. "I promise you, that's not what I meant... You know sometimes I say the wrong thing."

Ginny crossed her arms. "You certainly don't seem to say the wrong thing in the abundance of interviews you're required to give for that job of yours."

Viktor nodded. "I know. You're right... So," he said, and put out his hand, "are we able to part as friends, Ginny?"

Ginny's eyes flashed dangerously at that. "Not on your life!" she shouted, and drew her want, allowing Viktor Krum, pro-Quidditch player from Bulgaria, and dirty, filthy cheater, to experience the wonders of what was her Bat-Bogey Hex.

~*~

Hermione

Hermione Granger, British Muggleborn witch, was an only child born to upper middle class dentists, and had been raised in Hampstead, Greater London, until the age of eleven, when she had been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. An excellent student, she was top of her class, and best friends with Harry Potter, a Half-Blood, who was also an only child, and so the pair bonded as siblings, with Harry's parents, James and Lily, taking her in after her own parents had rejected her, due to her magical ways.

Hermione worked for The Ministry of Magic, alongside Harry, although in two very different departments. Harry worked for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in the Auror Office, while Hermione was in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, with a focus on werewolves. Because of this, she was extremely close to one of Harry's godfathers, Remus Lupin, and had managed to get the stigmas lessened to the point where he was permanently employed at Hogwarts as a favorite Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Harry's other godfather, Sirius Black, was Head of the Auror Department, and the minister, Kingsley Shacklebolt, loved Harry's work and adored the reforms that Hermione was putting in place.

Hermione had been there for Harry throughout his romance with Luna Lovegood, a Ravenclaw girl, a Pureblood, who was a year behind them at Hogwarts. She was Maid of Honor at their wedding when she was twenty-three, Harry twenty-two, and Luna just twenty-one, and stood as godmother to their daughters, Pandora Lily and Minerva Hermione, named for Luna's mother and the Headmistress of Hogwarts respectively. She was there when Luna got her breast cancer diagnosis, much to the shock of the Healers at St. Mungo's, due to the apparent eradication of Muggle diseases. She was there throughout Luna's chemo treatments, her trip to the seaside with Harry and the girls, and her final days. She helped Harry plan Luna's celebration of life, which is as she would have wanted, alongside Xenophilius Lovegood, Luna's widowed father.

Now Hermione was thirty, and although she had harbored a deep love for one particular wizard since their school days, he never seemed to completely get with the program. Ronald Prewett was the son of Gideon Prewett and Felicity Black, the older sister of Sirius Black, and, with both parents deceased, Ron was in possession of quite the Pureblood fortune. It wasn't his fortune that attracted Hermione to Ron, but the whole opposites attract thing that really seemed to get her going at the end of things. He was now an Auror in the Auror Department with Harry, due to his physical strength and ability to strategize, but Harry wasn't impressed.

"You could do loads better than him, Hermione," Harry had told her for years, even after she and Ron had been sleeping together since their graduation from Hogwarts. "All he does is break your heart, and even though I'll always be here for you, you get worse and worse after each time he does it. Don't do this to yourself..."

Despite Harry's words, along with James and Lily, Sirius and his wife Gwenog, Remus and his wife Dora, and even Headmistress McGonagall, Hermione couldn't be swayed. She kept sleeping with Ron, thanking Merlin for Contraceptive Charms, for even though she fancied herself in love with him, she was not about to get saddled with his child. The court case, she knew, would be a complete nightmare, despite all the people she had on her side, because Ron's Pureblood status would likely sway the Wizengamot his way, regardless of everything Hermione had done for the Ministry of Magic.

With Christmas fast approaching, all Hermione wanted to do was spend it was James and Lily, Sirius and Gwenog and their kids (Arabella, Stephano and Clarence), and Remus and Dora and their kids (Teddy, Andi, and Hope). Shaking her head, she knew she would have to meet her deadline regarding her latest proposed legislation for werewolves before five o'clock that evening, or else it wouldn't pass until September. It was the footsteps behind her which roused her senses, and, turning, she saw Ron in the doorway, grinning at her.

"Hey, Grangy," he said, the pet name making her melt.

"Hi," Hermione said back, always completely breathless whenever Ron was around, and/or paid her the slightest bit of attention.

"Working again?" Ron asked, stepping into the office and commanding the room, and gazing at the surface of her desk. "Ooh. Werewolves again, eh?"

"You know me," Hermione replied, flushing slightly at his close proximity to her. "Don't go away, though... Just have to finish one thought," she said, lowering her eyes back to her parchment and scrawled something at the end of it, before she skimmed it, nodded with satisfaction, and set it aside. "So..."

"So?" Ron asked.

Hermione bit down hard on her lower lip. "I've got your Christmas present," she said lamely, and snapped her fingers, summoning it nonverbally.

Ron shuffled from foot to foot. "I don't exactly have yours with me, Grangy."

Hermione shook her head quickly at him, and silently extended the gift towards him. "That's all right," she assured him. "Get it to me when you can."

Ron smirked at her and nodded, before tearing at the parcel she handed over to him, and hefted the weight for a moment, before he tore it slightly. "You've got to be bloody kidding me," he said happily, before he tore it completely and stared down at it, his eyes widening at what she'd gotten him.

"Last time, we exchanged gifts in March, you know," Hermione said softly, and, to herself, said, barely above a whisper, "We're getting better..."

"It's a first edition," Ron said, running his fingertips reverently along the golden letters of the leather-bound book in his hands, the words Quidditch Through the Ages shimmering up at him, almost as if by magic. "Where did you find it?"

"Buried at Flourish and Blotts," Hermione said softly with a shrug. It was a white lie; she never went to the Quidditch section if she could help it (she couldn't stand the game). The book did indeed come from the eponymous bookstore, however, she had actively searched for it with the proprietor for months, and, with his help, she found it, albeit she was several thousand Galleons lighter as a result.

Ron appeared as if he wanted to say something, but Kingsley's booming voice emitted from the atrium, and he and Hermione, plus all the other employees of the Ministry of Magic, were systematically summoned there. Ron gave Hermione a small smile as she vanished the paper and shrunk down the book, and Hermione slipped into the crowd, walking in the opposite direction from Ron. Her face, as per usual, was flushed, and she meandered towards where Harry was currently standing, and took a flute of champagne from him.

"You all right?" Harry asked, looking her over. "That git say something?"

Hermione quickly shook her head. "No, Ron didn't say anything..."

Harry looked concerned. "After over a decade of friendship, you can tell me anything... And I know when you're lying," he said accusingly. "Have you been seeing him, again, despite all our warnings?"

Hermione bit down on her lower lip; it wasn't just because of Ron's apparent not wanting to be committed to her, or in public. It was the fact that he seemed to be sleeping and seeing Lavender Brown, another Pureblood, who had been the bane of Hermione's existence since their Hogwarts days, due to the fact that Ron and Lavender had been off and on since then. Hermione had always hated Lavender's pet-name for him, Won-Won, and, even worse, how Ron seemed to relish it.

"No," Hermione lied, shaking her head, and hoped she appeared convincing. "The occasional owl, here and there," she admitted at last at Harry's expression. "And then... Sometimes we'll meet for lunch at The Leaky, when he's sworn he's not seeing her..."

Harry shook his head at her. "Sooner or later, 'Mione, you're going to have to face the facts that he's not the one," he said firmly. "I mean, has he ever told you that he loved you?"

"Yes!" Hermione sputtered. "Three, almost four, times!"

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

Hermione sighed, shoulders slumping. In actuality, Ron had almost said it, at least she thought so, but never had said it completely...

"Happy Christmas, everyone," Kingsley boomed at all the present employees of the Ministry of Magic in the atrium. "Now, I know this is the last day of work before the New Year, and I want to congratulate you all on a job well done!" he continued, and everyone applauded. "Now, before I release you completely, I wanted to be the first to announce that love is in the air. Please join me in celebrating the upcoming bonding ceremony of Lavender Brown and Ronald Prewett!" he declared, leading in the applause as Lavender, her arm draped around Ron, all but pulled him up onto the stage, where she was greeted with a kiss on the cheek by Kingsley, and the minister shook Ron's hand, while Lavender showed her impressive engagement ring for everyone in the crowd to see.

As Hermione was vaguely aware of Rita Skeeter, who was Lavender's mentor at The Daily Prophet, snapped a photograph of them with the minister, Ron's eyes found Hermione's within the crowd. Although she couldn't quite put her finger on it, she believed she detected regret and remorse there, but she forced herself not to dwell upon it. Instead, she hurried through the crowd back to her office, and summoned all the things she would need before she left for the holiday season. She was relieved that Harry had not followed her, and she utilized her private Floo Connection to get home, to her cottage in the Cotswold's, and immediately gathered up her familiar, Crookshanks, as she closed the Floo behind her, locking it up, so as she could merely be alone with her thoughts.

As snow fell around her found, Hermione's sobs echoed off the walls, and Crookshanks did his best to calm his mistress, but to no avail.