Some Things Never Change

[gryff_of_grace]

Title: Some Things Never Change
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: G
Summary: Some things never change. Like Ron's drooling over Fluer and Hermione's jealousy of it. Songfic to Shania Twain's Water.
A/N: Written between OOTP & HBP, but is not AU.

Hermione Granger was sitting at her kitchen table, reading today's edition of The Daily Prophet. She was sitting on the edge of her chair, eyebrows knitted in concentration as her eyes scanned the front page. Frowning a bit, she flipped to the second page, then her lips broke out into a wide smile.

She grabbed the telephone next to her on the table, and quickly dialed Ron's phone number.

"Hello?" answered a familiar voice.

"Hi Harry!" said Hermione brightly. "Oh, you won't believe it, it's absolutely wonderful! All this time--I never ever thought--but wait until I tell you--!"

"Tell me what?"

"Neville--he's--gosh, I can't believe he really...amazing! I never would have dreamed he would be the first of us to--oh, Harry!"

"Er...Hermione--" Harry started, but he was cut off, and someone else picked up the phone.

"Hermione!" Ron said into the phone excitedly. Hermione held the receiver away from her ear a bit, as Ron had never really grasped the fact that the person on the other end could you hear you perfectly well.

Hermione stopped herself from squealing as his voice came on the line. Hermione hadn't seen Ron or Harry for about a month now, as she had been so caught up in her work of writing new laws for the house elves. "Hello, Ron," she said, in what she believed to be a relatively calm voice.

There was a pause on the other line, and she could hear his breathing. "Something big happen?" he asked knowingly, and Hermione twirled the cord on her finger, rolling her eyes at how well he knew her. "Of course," he answered himself. "Something major had to happen in order for you to actually stop working and call us."

"Oh, Ron, you know I don't mean to neglect you and Harry--" she started, flustered.

"I didn't mean it like that," he said. "So, you want to meet us up at the Three Broomsticks, then? You know, to discuss whatever progress you've made with S.P.E.W..."

Hermione made a disgruntled noise. "It's just as well that you would actually call it by its proper name when I've changed it, now." But she couldn't stop the smile spreading across her face.

"Hey, I actually like the name you have for it now..."

"That's a surprise," she muttered dryly. She was being sarcastic; ever since she had changed S.P.E.W. to The House-Elf Liberation Front, he never let it go. He was always going on about how he was right about something for once, and that S.P.E.W. was the most ridiculous acryonym ever known to wizard. "Besides," she said, "it's not about the house elves."

"That's...er...different." He sounded amused.

"Oh, shut up. Meet you two at the Three Broomsticks?"

"Harry, grab your cloak!" she heard Ron yell. "See you then, Hermione."

With a smile, she hung up the phone, pulled out her wand, and Apparated.

He took me to our favorite spot
A place we go to hang a lot

The Three Broomsticks looked the same ever; a small pub crowded with lots of people, with the gold lettering Three Broomsticks across the front, with three broomsticks entwined. Hermione pushed open the door, and adjusted the purse strap on her shoulder, squeezing her way to the bar.

"'Ello, Ms. Granger!" greeted an old woman sitting by herself in a corner. Hermione smiled and waved to her. She was a regular at the bar, and knew almost everyone. Men and women (and even some children) continued to greet her.

Hermione Granger, while not as famous as Harry Potter, was well known. She had graduated at the top of her class, earning O's in every single of her seventeen N.E.W.Ts and had been sent almost every job application known to wizard. The fact that she had been partly responsible for the downfall of Voldemort made her even more well known and popular.

Finally spotting a familiar head of messy, black hair, she made her way over to the table her friend's usually shared. Once a week Harry, Ron, and Hermione joined up here. They talked about their love lives, their work, and anything else that came under the sun.

"Hey, Harry!" Hermione said, dropping her purse onto her usual chair and giving her best friend a hug. Harry was about six feet now, and more filled out than he had been at Hogwarts. His features were all more mature, and his eyes, once a bright green, had dulled a bit because of the War.

He hugged her back, then pulled away, grinning. "Ron's getting some drinks," Harry informed her, sitting back down. "So...what's this about Neville?"

Hermione grinned widely. "Oh, you'll be absolutely thrilled, Harry. But I can't say just yet. I want Ron to hear, too."

"Want me to hear what?" said a voice, and Hermione looked up. Ron was moving toward them, two drinks in one hand and one in the other. Hermione smiled at the sight of his tall form, red hair, and ever plentiful freckles. Unlike Harry, Ron hadn't changed much at all, and that was comforting. He set down a butterbeer in front of Harry, a cherry and lemon drink in front of Hermione, and pried the cork off a bottle of Odgen's Old Firewhisky for himself, then relaxed into his chair next to Hermione. "Well?" he prompted.

Hermione twirled her straw in her drink, grinning. "Two good things have happened to Neville this week. The first is that he applied for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position at Hogwarts...and got it!" She looked around at her friends, and gave a tiny squel of happiness, but they looked confused.

"I thought he wanted to be Herbology Professor?" Ron said.

"Same here," added Harry.

Hermione could understand their confusion. Throughout his entire life, Neville had been devoted to Herbology, earning the highest marks in that class. After Bellatrix Lestrange had tortured Luna Lovegood with the Cruciatus Curse during the Final Battle, Neville had lost all control. The trio had witnessed Neville's eyes burn with hatred, the had seen Neville lunge at the heavy-lidded woman, tackling her to the ground. The two of them had rolled down a hill, punching and kicking every inch of the other they could reach. And then, when they had reached the bottom of the hill, Neville had stood up, lip bleeding, bruises forming on his face, and pointed his wand down at his mortal enemy and yelled, "AVADA KEDAVRA!" He looked down at Bellatrix for a long time, then realized he had actually commited murder, and deftly snapped his wand in half and threw it on the ground. Hermione had clapped her hands to her mouth upon seeing this, and a week later, Neville had vowed never to have anything else to do with the Dark Arts.

"Well," Hermione started, as Ron and Harry watched her curiously, "the Herbology position was taken by Hannah Abbot, so Dumbledore gave him the only one available. Neville said he was going to be traditional and only teach for one year though."

"Why?" said Ron. "Neville would be a good teacher, besides, what else is he going to do?"

"Hang on a minute, though, why would Neville want to teach a subject that he swore he would have nothing to do with?" asked Harry.

"Well, those questions bring me to the second piece of good news. In the Prophet, when it mentioned his appointment as Defence Professor, it also mentioned that Luna is pregnant. By three weeks. It's clear that the baby has made him think about life, and that he should be out there preparing students for what could come in the future and, if he's only going to teach one year, it means he wants to spend as much time with the baby as possible. Luna will be able to support them, because of her editor's position with the Quibbler. I think it's sweet." She said all of this very quickly.

Harry and Ron stared at her with their mouths hanging open. "This is unbelievable," Harry said. "Neville's the first of the class to get married, and he's the first one to have a baby. Who would have thought?"

"Well, actually, the first to have a baby was Pansy Parkinson," Hermione corrected him.

"What?" gasped Ron. "That cow?"

"I expect her son is around a year now. Pansy and her husband plan to be married in the spring."

"How come we didn't know about the baby? And who would want to marry her?" said Harry. A look of disgust crawled across his sharpened features.

Hermione grinned wickedly. "Her family kept it hushed up, so no one really knows. I do, though, thanks to Blaise Zabini. She works with me at the Ministry, and we were having lunch and discussing Hogwarts, and it came up."

"But why are they keeping it hushed up?" said Harry.

"Because," said Hermione, smiling wider, "it's not Draco Malfoy she's marrying, like everyone thought she would. She's marrying a Muggle."

Harry lurched suddenly, sending his butterbeer all over the table. Hermione laughed at the looks on their faces. "I know!" she said. "After all the times she called me Mudblood!"

"Don't say that word Hermione, I don't like it," Ron said uneasily.

Hermione shrugged. "Anyway, how are things for you two at work?" Harry and Ron were both Aurors, and partners at that.

"Same as they've always been."

"And in the relationship department?" Hermione pried.

"Hey, you know I'm with Ginny," Harry said, waving over a waiter.

"Ron?" she asked anxiously.

"Oh, no one. I'm single, as always." Hermione breathed in relief. For some reason, whenever Ron was with other girls, she felt queasy inside, and not at all rational.

"You?" he asked, and Hermione saw his hands tense a bit. Harry was drinking his butterbeer, watching the exchange with what could only be seen as amusement.

"Well, actually, a really nice man asked me out yesterday. But I turned him down, because I have to work on a thesis tomorrow. He got rather sulky." Ron smiled triumphantly. Hermione's eyes darkened. "Why are you smiling? That's not funny!"

"Whatever you say, Hermione," said Ron. Hermione rolled her eyes and started to change the subject when she realized that Ron was no longer looking at her. Rather, his blue eyes were focused over her shoulder, and Hermione turned to see what he was looking at.

Something seemed to catch his eye
Over my shoulder
Over my shoulder

Three people were coming through the door. One, was a boy with sandy brown hair and bright green eyes. Hermione knew him as Mark Evans. On his arm was Gabrielle Delacour, looking quite pretty as she giggled at something he had said. But Hermione's hands tensed on her drink as she noticed who was beside them.

I turned around to see what's up
A pretty young thing sure enough
She was new - he wanted to
Know her
Know her

Fleur Delacour.

"Oh...honestly," Hermione muttered. She could never see why Ron lost control of himself whenever that Veela was around, as Fleur was the most vain person Hermione had ever met. She was also rude and inconsiderate of other people's feelings, and thought she was better than everyone else.

Oh, yeah
then she flicked her hair (yeah!)
Oh - yeah - he began to stare

Certainly the way she was holding herself as she walked proved this, as she held her head in the air importantly, and she walked as though she was on a petestal, her hips swaying slightly, to catch the eye of any man within a fifty foot radius. She tossed her hair over her shoulder, laughing, and Ron let out a sigh of contentment.

Hermione snapped her fingers in front of Ron's face, and he seemed to snap out of whatever trance he had been in. He had the expression of someone who's hand had been caught in the Chocolate Frog Jar. "What were you saying, Hermione?" he said, and he had the decency to look ashamed of himself.

"Obviously," she started tersely, "what I had to say wasn't important, because you go and decide to drool over Fleur."

"I wasn't drooling! And I wasn't even staring at her! I was staring at the new furnishings...that the door has!"

"Ron, that door has had the same furnishings ever since this pub was built."

"And where'd you read that?" said Ron sourly. "Three Broomsticks, A History?"

"Witty, Ron, really witty," sniffed Hermione, folding her arms across her chest and looking at a point somewhere over Harry's shoulder. Ron had turned his attention back to Fleur and had the expression of a puppy who had just wandered upon a juicy hot dog. She wanted to dump a bucket of water over his head to bring him to his senses.

Waiter! (Waiter) Bring me water!
I gotta make him keep his cool
(Waiter) Bring me water!
He's acting like a fool
(Waiter) Bring me water!

"Oi, Harry!" said a voice, and then Mark Evans was walking over to their table, looking delighted to see them. Harry waved hello, and Hermione sent daggers his way, but he pulled them up chairs anyway.

"'ello, 'arry," said Gabrielle, rushing forward and shaking his hand. "'ello, 'ermione and Ron!" She sat down next to Mark, and smiled at them.

"Hi," said Ron, growing very slightly red. Hermione refused to look at him.

"Fleur!" called Gabrielle. "Look who we found!"

Hermione sighed and looked down at the very interesting table, as Fleur made her way over, carrying three drinks. She set them down on the table, smiling prettily at them all, then kissed both Harry and Ron on both cheeks. Harry looked like his ears were steaming, but Ron gave the impression of one whose head had just been stuck in a cauldron of boiling water. "And 'ermione as well! It is good to see you all!"

"It's very nice to see you, too," said Ron in a strangely high pitched voice. Fleur inspected him shrewdly, then gestured at his and Harry's empty drinks. "Do you want another one?"

"...er...yes please..."

"Ron doesn't need anything else to drink," Hermione said firmly, "he's already doing a good job of embarrasing himself without any added help."

Fleur gave her a confused look.

As if she doesn't understand why I'm acting this way, Hermione thought. "So, Fleur...what do you do for a living now?"

"I am planning on becoming a Charmz teacher at Beauxbatons, perhaps," she said, sitting down next to Ron. "And what about you?"

"Oh, I work for the Ministry," said Hermione airily, unintentionally squeezing her butterbeer bottle as Ron stared directly at Fleur, a tiny bit of drool at the corner of his chin.

"Zat is good," said Fleur. "Of course, I would never waste my time on a system that is so corrupted by power and greed. We haven't had a good Minister since Arthur Weazley." She was referring to the brief period of time that Arthur had been appointed Minister during the War, after Fudge had been kicked out of office.

Ron seemed to inhale this information. "Yeah, my dad's really something, isn't he?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and looked over at Harry, who looked very amused. Frustrated, she stood up and gave Ron a pointed look. "Ron," she said.

"What?" he said, his eyes not leaving Fleur, who was beginning to look uncomfortable.

"I need to speak with you."

"What, n - "

"Yes, now," she cut him off. With that, she walked up the bar, waiting for him to follow. He groaned and got up from his chair, and gave her an exasperated look when he approached.

"What?" he said.

"Stop it," snapped Hermione.

"Stop what? What did I do?"

"You are making a fool out of yourself, did you know that?"

"A fool? What are you talking about?" He looked confused.

"Ron!"

"What?"

"I'm talking about Fleur!"

Ron turned to look at the Veela and a goofy smile graced his features. "She's something else, isn't she?"

Uh, oh, I did my best - to block his view
But it was like he could see through me
I just knew - he wanted to
Hold her
Hold her

"I am talking to you Ron. Normally, when someone speaks to you, they want your full attention on them," Hermione said through gritted teeth.

She then moved so that she was in front of him. Angrily, she pushed him down on a barstool, and he came out of his trance, looking up at her in astonishment. "What is with you, woman?"

The barman began to laugh, and both Hermione and Ron turned to glare at him. He immediately stopped.

"Do you realize that you mean absolutely nothing to Fleur?" she said suddenly.

Ron looked shocked.

"She's a Veela, Ron. Her whole goal in life is to get men to drool over her. You're only amusing her, Ron, with your antics. Look at you, there's drool on your chin!" Ron swiped at his chin.

"Well, she's used to it by now, so what's the problem?" mumbled Ron.

"The problem, is that you're only going to get hurt. She doesn't want you. She wants someone rich and older than she is. Someone who's a true Quidditch star, and can give her loads of things. She wants a man who's going to be there for her at every minute of every second and who'll bend over backwards for her! That's not you!"

"Oh, so I'm not good enough for her?" said Ron loudly, looking hurt and angry.

Hermione bit her lip. "I didn't mean it that way."

"What, Hermione? Am I not good enough for anybody? Every single time a new girl comes into my life, you jump down my throat for it!"

"Fleur Delacour is not a girl, she is a Veela! A real girl wouldn't take advantage of you! You don't even have any real feelings for her!"

"I know that, Hermione!"

Hermione stepped back. "You what?"

"I know I don't have feelings for her. She's just nice to look at."

"B-but you - "

"What hurts, is that even if I did have feelings for her - is that you think that I'm not good enough for her. I might not be able to provide her with money and riches and fame, but damn it, if I love somebody, they'll know it and none of that will matter!

"I wasn't trying to say that I didn't think you were good enough for her. I was trying to say that she isn't good enough for you."

Oh - yeah - I ain't gettin' nowhere (yeah!)
Oh - yeah - she's still standing there

Ron looked over at Fleur, who was chatting animatedly with Harry. "Of course she is. She's got everything. Looks, brains, humor..."

He was starting to go into a trance again. Hermione sighed and pushed him back down on the barstool, very roughly. "Barman, could I please have a glass of water?" she asked, her throat suddenly scratchy. Her face was bright red and she could feel Ron's eyes on her. She gulped down the water and asked for another.

There's gotta be a way to cool this clown -
he's starting to embarrass me
I may even have to hose him down -
bring me water
I don't know what he finds so distracting -
what's so hot about her
I really don't like the way he's acting
Bring me water!

"Hermione," said Ron softly, gazing up at her. She reached out for the glass of water on the table, but he grabbed her wrist. Hermione felt a bit of a jolt and stared, wide eyed at him. "Why don't you like Fleur?"

"I like Fleur," Hermione said defensively, arching her shoulders. She determinedly reached for the glass with her other hand, but Ron clamped his hand around that wrist as well.

"Yeah, you like Fleur," he said sarcastically. "And Snape likes Harry."

There was very long silence. The bar seemed to get very quiet. All Hermione noticed was Ron. She could feel the heat rise in her cheeks and wanted to lower her eyes, but couldn't - because she was too mesmerised by Ron's blue ones.

"Ron, I - " she started.

"Barman, could I have a Firewhisky, please?" came a feminine voice. Hermione groaned as the barman eagerly handed Fleur another bottle. Ron's hands loosened on her wrists.

"Could I have another water?" Hermione asked, knowing Ron's eyes weren't on her anymore. Their moment had been ruined by the French girl.

Bring it on!
Uhhh
Oh
What's so hot about her?

"That's why I don't like Fleur," Hermione said through clenched teeth, as she drank some of the water. "She always ruins conversations."

Uh, uh, uh,
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
(Waiter, bring me water)
Gotta make him keep his cool

"Yeah, she does," said Ron. Hermione noticed that his face was glazed over once more.

"Oh, honestly, Ron!" Hermione said angrily, flinging the rest of the water in his face.

"What did you do that for!" he yelled, causing people to stare. He wiped his face with his shirt, exposing the flat planes of his stomach.

"You were making an idiot out of yourself again! Staring at Fleur!"

Ron looked at her incredously. "I wasn't looking at her, I was looking at YOU!"

(Waiter, bring me water)
He's acting like a fool
Waiter, bring me water

Hermione's jaw dropped, forming an 'o'.

Next moment, Ron had grabbed the other cup of water from the counter and hurled it into her face. She shrieked. "Ron! What did you do that for? I wasn't making a fool out of myself over some stupid Veela!"

"Well, you had that same look on your face!"

"You idiot, that's because I was looking at YOU!"

"Well," said Ron slowly, "I suppose we're even."

Hermione stepped closer to him. "I suppose we are," she said softly.

Right before Ron bent his head down and kissed her.

Over at the table, clapping, Harry shook his head. Only Ron and Hermione would snog passionately in the middle of a blazing row. Some things never change, he thought.