In Another Universe

Chapter 9

TW: mentions of drunkenness

As they heard the little bell over the door of the Three Broomsticks ring out, Harry, Neville, Dean, and Ginny all raised their heads in unison, watching Ron as he came in and plopped down in one of the two free chairs at their table.

"So, no Granger?" Dean said teasingly, and Ron's normally cheerful face wrinkled into a passing scowl. "I'm going to take that as a no."

"Chickened out, did you?" Ginny joined in, poking his arm, and he yanked it away, closing his hand around the cardboard coffee cup he still held in his hand. "Oh my god, you even got her coffee from Puddifoot's—"

"Shut up, shut up, I don't wanna hear it, Harry said she liked that place!" Ron burst, clapping his hands over his ears to the table's general laughter.

"Hey, that's where we usually meet up," Harry said, smiling at his best mate and swirling his juice around with a straw. "What did you get her?"

"Chamomile tea," Ron mumbled sheepishly, and the table burst out into a groan.

"C'mon, Ron, that's the least romantic thing you could've gotten! It's so generic!"

"It may surprise you to hear it, Ginny, but despite being good at everything, I'm actually no tea expert," Ron said, and brought his cardboard cup to his lips. He grimaced: "Jesus, Harry, no wonder you like that place, their coffee is way too sweet, and keep in mind I ordered mine black—"

"So stop being a baby and order another one," Ginny shrugged, swiping the cup from her brother and having a taste from it. She also grimaced: "Oh, god, what does she put in these, watered-down syrup?"

"I like it," Harry muttered as Ron waved a strongly-built waitress with curly straw-blonde hair to their table.

"Hi, Rosmerta, good morning— would you mind getting me a real cup of coffee, please?"

"Sure thing," Rosmerta replied, eyeing the pink cardboard cup with something resembling disgust. "No wonder you need a real one if you went to Puddifoot's..." she commented as she walked away toward the kitchen.

"Is she judging me? I feel like she's judging me," commented Ron, leaning over the table and looking around his friends.

"She may not be judging you, but we are: how do you wake up so early in the morning just to ask Hermione if she'd like to come to breakfast with us, and fail at the one thing you've been gearing up to do since last night?" Ginny asked, pushing the Puddifoot cup away from her and folding her arms.

"On first-name terms with her, aren't we..." Ron started, leaning back again to match Ginny's pose.

"Answer my question, Ronald."

"Alright, alright, you're right, I backed out," sighed Ron, and the table erupted in hoots and whistles again, punctuated with the occasional 'come on, Ron!'. "But, in my defense, none of you prepared me for the off-chance she'd be wearing a lilac blouse, and the thing was almost see-through—"

"You're disgusting," Ginny complained, swatting him with a napkin.

"Yeah, I sound like McLaggen," Ron snickered, looking to Harry to laugh with him, but finding instead a table in silence. Apparently, the name 'McLaggen' had hit upon something. "Well, what is it?"

"So she doesn't remember, does she?" Neville asked quietly, his round eyes widening with the reach of his question.

"No, I don't think she does," Ron sighed, dropping the impish pretense. "But I'm not exactly going to come out and ask her, right? I mean, if I'm building up trust here, I can't come out and just push her to reprise it."