Ginevra Molly Potter cooed at the baby in her arms. Dominique Weasley was pretty cute and she was a proud aunty, if she didn’t say so herself. She’d held other babies before but she never got over how small their hands were or how tiny their toes were. Dominique’s were particularly small and thus particularly cute. She cooed again.
“Earth to Ginny, I’m talking to you, hello?” Ginny peeled her attention away from baby Dom to her brother Bill. “Now that England is officially out of the world cup you actually have an off season. Guess you’re all freed up for plenty of baby sitting, huh?”
Rolling her eyes at her brother’s assumption, “I don’t believe that I mentioned wanting to baby sit.” Ginny picked up Dominique’s little hand, before putting her much larger fingers into the baby’s lose grip. “She’s adorable though,”
Ginny meant it. Her little nose scattered with freckles, strawberry blonde hair, pale skin and the biggest, most beautiful blue eyes made her one of the most beautiful babies she’d ever seen. Ginny wondered if her babies would be as beautiful? But then how could they not be if they got Harry’s silky black hair or bright green eyes?
Her husband always talked about kids and the house they had bought after they were married had specifically needed to have extra bedrooms. ‘Just in case’ he had said with a wink. Not that having a baby was a joke, but she hadn’t been ready for that passage yet.
As she imagined Dominique with green eyes instead of blue, she wondered if she was ready yet?
Lavender Brown had two jobs, but to her distress, Seamus called one a mere hobby. No matter how many times she argued that because she got a paycheck from it, which automatically cancelled out any leeway for it being called a hobby, he continued to make fun of her. Collecting lucky charms is a hobby; wanting to be a singer was her dream job. While she might get most of her income from her other job, a sales assistant at Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions, didn’t mean she was going to spend the rest of her life working there.
Seamus didn’t take her seriously. It was as ridiculous as wearing socks with sandals. They had been together for years, almost as long as Harry and Ginny, and they were no closer to the next step in their relationship then Hermione Granger was to telling a joke. They didn’t even live together yet and by all means, Lavender was sure they should be.
The only thing that Seamus took seriously was gambling, and since the Harpies had won the cup, Lavender figured that he was down more than a few galleons. In fact, she was pretty sure of it. After all, Seamus notoriously didn’t like to cook, but he had suggested they spend the night in instead of eating out. It simply wasn’t something he would do unless he had no choice.
But then he’d expected her to cook him dinner, which she stupidly did thinking it would pull him out of his funk. Her mother had always said that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. It wasn’t until she stumbled into his bathroom in the middle of that particular night she realised her mother had lied --- or had been poorly informed.
Denise’s Pieces. Lavender would not been seen there, nor in anything from that tacky store. Especially when her position at Madam Malkin’s entitled her to a hefty discount. So she wasn’t the quickest wand in the shop, but even she knew that the clothes on the top of the hamper did not belong to her, and definitely not to Seamus.
Lavender wanted to scream. Was this really happening to her again? Was she really that unlovable?
Hermione Jean Granger drummed her fingers on her desk as she opened her planner. She had work appointments from nine till lunchtime and for the first time ever, she honestly considered getting one of the department secretaries to reschedule. Maybe she could pop in to see George and get a Fever Fudge. George would love that, he’d have a laugh and he’d probably give it to her for free --- which would be more than she’d gotten lately, she thought angrily.
But there was one more problem. He’d for sure tell Ron, he’d ask her why she needed a Fever Fudge and then that would open a whole can of newts’ tails she would rather not deal with. For that can of tails was metaphorical for her humiliation. Hermione had thought, stupidly, that when Ron had taken her to dinner on Saturday night that he was going to propose.
All the signs said so. The idea to go out to dinner somewhere that didn’t sell all day breakfast, baked beans on toast, was brand new for Ron. He’d even worn a tie. Though these were not the key to her suspicions. No, it was the ring she’ found when trying to jam the rest of his socks into his over crowded sock draw. Hermione had waited for days for the moment when he finally popped her the question. She had even checked in the bathroom mirror that her surprise face looked real.
The first surprise was when she figured out Ron was trying to butter her up so that she wouldn’t get too mad when he informed her that he was going to resign from his position as an Auror to work with George in WWW. Ron’s new employment opportunity was for the best; he’d been an unhappy Auror for sometime now.
The second when the ring had shown up on Angelina’s finger the next night at the Weasley family dinner. Ron had been looking after it for George.
The third surprise was how horrible she felt. Why didn’t he want to marry her? Realistically, and Hermione knew enough to look at this situation with facts and not theories, that Ron might want to marry her. That Ron wasn’t the most confident man in the world. That he had a terrible habit of expecting the worse when it came to other people’s thoughts and opinions of him and the things that he did. This all made proposing marriage a hurdle.
She wanted to get married. No! More than that, she wanted to marry Ron and become Mrs. Hermione Weasley. But what if he never proposed?
Hannah Maree Abbott liked things in pairs. Her own name had four sets of double letters. She wasn’t a kook like Luna Lovegood; her obsession with pairs was a new thing. Even then, her affiliation with pairs only applied to one thing, Neville Emmett Longbottom and that she wanted to be his.
It was only a stupid coincidence that their names shared the exact same number of paired letters, but she had a lot of spare time on her hands. It wasn’t like her private life was busting with activity. Actually it was pretty non-existent. Unless you counted Neville’s visits into the Leaky Cauldron. Since school was out for the summer, Professor Longbottom had come in almost every day.
Roast roll, add gravy and mash potato.
Small side of chips.
Butter beer from the bottle, not on tap.
Hannah hoped that because he came in every day that he maybe liked her too. Old’ Tom’s food was average at best so she couldn’t really make herself believe that Neville simply enjoyed the food. Though he had mentioned one day while she was counting out his two galleons and eight nuts change that his grandmother was driving him crazy. Perhaps he only came to escape her. After some thought she had decided that it didn’t matter if he came to escape his batty grandmother or not, she had to give him a reason to keep coming back.
For three days she had pre-prepared his meal for him, hoping that that the sheer convenience of her service would have him coming back again and again. Of course it was only then she realised that if he didn’t have to wait, she didn’t get to see him as much. The next day Hannah pretended to be super busy when Neville came in, despite there only being four other customers in the entire place, so she did not draw suspicion to her lack of convenient lunch. She apologized profusely.
“It’s ok Hannah, I don’t mind waiting. I like the company,”
Despite herself, Hannah smiled stupidly and her face went red. Maybe he wasn’t just visiting for her super convenient lunches, or even the Leaky’s not-so world-class food. Hannah bit her nail. She’d never had a boy too interested in her company before. Unless he had come for company of the other customers --- all four of them??