Chapter 9: Making Adjustments

Disclaimer: All things Harry Potter belong to JKR.

A/N: Many thanks to my awesome beta, Southern_Witch_69!

Harry sat at his desk in the Italy's Ministry of Magic Auror department tired and frustrated. He should have left a few hours ago. He'd only been there a few days, but he was well put out because it seemed he was no closer in finding the killer, no matter how many hours he put in. He blew out a whoosh of breath and ran his fingers through his hair.

"You could go back home, you know," came a statement from the livid voice he'd heard on his first night there. It had not changed its tone at all.

"No, I can't. The Minister wants me here for one thing, and for another, I finish what I start, Cho."

She snorted disbelievingly. "Not from where I'm standing. Look, I was sent here two months ago, almost from the beginning of this case, and we don't want or need you here. Go. Back. Home."

He looked up at his ex-girlfriend, irritated. "I concede that you don't want me here, but it seems that you're the only one. Everyone else I've encountered seems pleased to have my help."

"You arrogant, egotistical arse! If you were actually helping, I would back off, but your presence here has done nothing of significance."

"You mean like yours has done? Refresh my memory. When did you make an arrest then?"

"Bugger off!"

"Now, Cho, is that any way for a lady to speak?"

She growled deeply in her throat. "If you would just use me as bait like I asked, then we could..."

"NO!" The killer only murdered women with very long, dark hair. Wanting to stop her from thinking that he didn't want to risk her, Harry quickly amended, "We can't afford to lose an operative right now."

"Just how many women have to die before you will see my idea has some merit? Seven have died in the past three months! And furthermore, what makes you so sure you would lose me, eh? I went through the same training that you did!"

"Same training as me, you say? Which Dark Lord did you kill then?" he asked sarcastically. "No, I won't risk it, but I have considered taking some Polyjuice myself."

Cho sighed, deflated. "I see. So that all the glory can come to you? Killing You-Know-Who wasn't enough fame for you then?"

Suddenly the stress and anxiety had taken its toll on Harry, and he jumped up, causing his chair to topple over and came nose to nose with Cho. "What the hell is your problem? I am sick to death of your treatment towards me these past couple of days! First, you go out of your way to avoid me, and when you finally do speak to me, it's to tell me to go home? What did I ever do to you?"

"My treatment of you? You abandoned me, you bloody wanker! You left me high and dry when I needed you the most, even when you learned that I hadn't ratted you out, but Marietta had! It was always Hermione with you. I'm surprised you didn't marry her!"

Harry's eyes widened in shock. "You mean to tell me that you're still harboring anger over something that happened years ago? Jesus, woman! Like you said, it was your friend that ratted us out to begin with! And for the record, I've never wanted Hermione that way. She is like a sister to me."

"Right. My friend...not me! Yet you and your little buddies, especially Hermione, acted as if I had committed some crime. Treated me like I was guilty through association. I thought we were going to be together, but after that happened, I ceased to exist for you. Besides, you and Hermione always seemed more than friends to me."

"Cho... you have to understand the pressure I was under during those times. And let's be honest. You were using me as some sort of replacement for Cedric while trying to hear of his death at the same time. It wasn't me you wanted, not really. And as for Hermione, you were seeing what you wanted to see. She was for Ron back then."

"I did want you! You never gave us a chance. Now I hear you're to be married to Ginny Weasley. Well, bravo for her! She's followed you around enough that you finally decided to take the stray in."

"That'll do. Your bitterness and jealousy are highly unattractive. What I do and who I do it with isn't your concern. You had a chance, and you blew it, plain and simple."

Cho threw up her hands. "That's just it, Harry! I made one mistake...one! And you throw me over. Well, guess what? We mortal people do make mistakes. Everyone can't be perfect like you. Do you know what your problem is?"

"No, but do tell. I'm hanging on the edge of my seat here."

"Oh, I'll gladly tell you. You think that you're perfect, and you hold everyone else up to the same standards."

Harry stiffened, reminded of something Ginny had said once about how he expected her to be perfect. "That's absolutely not true. I don't think that I'm perfect. I do, however, live by a certain set of standards, and I don't think it's too much to expect the people I'm involved with to have standards as well."

"Yes, I agree everyone should have standards. But what you really mean to say is that you think that they should have the same standards as you, never once considering that your standards may be too high or, heaven forbid, wrong."

"I'm honorable, honest, loyal..."

Cho held up a hand to stop him. "I don't need a list of your credentials, Harry. Trust me; I am familiar with each and every one. I'm done here. Just do us all a favor and leave!"

"What you mean to say is do you a favor!"

"Fine! Do me a favor then!" She turned from him then, determined that she'd let him see enough of her feelings, and she'd make damned sure in the future he wouldn't see any more of them. First thing in the morning, she was going to the Head Auror and offer to let them use her as bait, as she should have done in the beginning, rather than going to Harry; then they'd see what they'd see.

~*~

Ginny sat in the restaurant quietly eating her lunch while watching all of the women there ogle her husband. Just like everyone did with Harry, she thought morosely.

He continued to eat as if nothing out of the ordinary were happening. When a starry-eyed witch asked for his autograph, he happily complied without so much as losing a crumb.

So when his face went dead white, Ginny was startled enough to turn around and see what he was staring at behind her. Standing just inside of the doorway was a very lovely woman. She had long, dark hair and eyes so blue they looked purple.

"Um, do you know her?"

"Yeah, you could say that," Oliver all but whispered. He visibly paled even further when the woman started towards their table. "Let's go, Gin. Now."

"Ollie!" Phoebe yelled and had all heads turning in their direction. "It's so good to see you," she drawled. "Why, I haven't even had the chance to congratulate the happy couple."

When she looked pointedly at Ginny, Oliver merely rubbed his hand roughly over his face but said nothing. Seeing that he was going to offer no introductions, Ginny turned to the woman and said, "Hullo. I'm Ginny..."

"Wood," Phoebe finished for her. "I read you've recently married this past month. How... unusual."

Ginny smiled at her with confusion, looking back and forth between her husband and this woman. "Unusual?"

"Oh, definitely unusual for a man who claimed that marriage, or even commitment, was the last thing on his mind."

Ginny sighed. "I take it that the two of you know each other then?"

"Oh, indeed. Intimately."

"Okay, Phoebe, that's enough," Oliver finally said.

"NO!" Phoebe yelled with hurt in her voice, eyes shining from unshed tears. "It's not! You used me!"

"I didn't. I know that right now it seems as if I have, but you don't understand."

"You're right. I don't. You told me that right now you needed to focus on your career, and then not a day later, I read that you've wed this woman!" Phoebe pointed an accusing finger at Ginny. "You're nothing but a liar, and it appears that I'm well rid of you, Oliver Wood!"

Ginny's heart ached for this woman. When she'd first walked in, she'd appeared poised, but now she was beginning to break. Trying to explain, Ginny asked, "Phoebe, is it? There really is a logical explanation..."

"Oh, I think I can figure that out myself. Oliver here is a two-timing, black-hearted womanizer!"

"Now wait just a damn minute! I never cheated on you! Nor am I a womanizer! I never ran with several women, hell or even two women, at the same time! I told you the truth when I said I didn't want a serious commitment right now!"

"Oh, I can see that," Phoebe said acidly.

"Okay, enough," Ginny said. "If you truly want an explanation, there's one to be had."

Phoebe picked up Oliver's drink and threw it in his face. "No thanks," she said and ran out of the restaurant.

"Let's go," Ginny said quietly. She was beginning to understand the ramifications the charm had, not only on her life, but everyone else's that was involved.

Oliver threw some Galleons on the table, and then they stood and walked out quickly. "Don't start," he said as soon as they were outside.

Ginny was shaking. "Start what?"

"I dated her, all right? We were intimate."

"I think I could see that for myself," she told him softly.

"I'm not going to say that she meant nothing to me because she did, but I was never in love with her, okay?"

Ginny stopped and turned to her husband. "I see that you think that I'm resentful of Phoebe, but that's not it at all. I'm not stupid enough to think you've not had scores of girlfriends." Her shoulders slumped in defeat. "It's that I'm beginning to see all the people that our thoughtless actions have affected. If not for me, you would still be dating her."

"Not necessarily. She was right in the fact that I'd told her I didn't want any serious entanglements right now, and we'd had a bad row the night I received my Ministry letter. She'd left my room right after I'd read it and didn't know what it said. And now, everything has happened so fast... but still, I see I should've let her know. Perhaps I ought to speak with her."

"No, that wouldn't be a good idea, Oliver."

He raised a skeptical eyebrow. "I thought you said you understood that there were others before you. Not scores, mind, but a few."

"I do. That's not it. It's just that she won't believe you right now, and you'll only make her feel worse. She will think you feel sorry for her, and a woman who thinks she's been thrown over for another does not want pity from the person who did the throwing."

Oliver let out a deep breath. "I suppose you're right. I just hate to see her that way."

Ginny nodded. "Trust me, I know." Wanting to change the subject, she said, "I'm very happy that our team is going to the World Cup this year. Did they make a decision where it will be held?"

"Oh, right. I forgot to tell you! Italy!"

Ginny stopped walking at once and covered her face with her hands. She'd found out from Ron that Harry had gone to Italy to help with some case there. "Merlin, help me! Can this day get any worse?"

~*~

Ron had gotten home an hour early, and for once his wife wasn't there before him bustling around in the kitchen, cooking. He felt... odd. He was used to her being there when he got home.

He went to the kitchen and got himself a Butterbeer and sat down to drink it. He had to admit, he was beginning to enjoy his wife's company. Suddenly, Ron felt extremely guilty. Caring for Luna felt oddly like betraying Hermione.

He knew it was nonsense. It had been Hermione who'd researched the charm, and Hermione who'd performed the charm, and even Hermione who'd never said a word to him about having doubts.

Of course, he hadn't said anything either.

That was beside the point, Ron thought furiously. At least he hadn't ruined her life by doing some stupid charm causing him...and her...to have to wed someone else. Well, Ron granted, ruin was a bit much. He only had to be married to Luna a year. It wasn't the end of the world.

His eyes drifted to the Howler that they'd moved to the mantel, wondering what it would take to get that thing to disappear. His musings were interrupted by a knock on the door.

Wondering whom it could be, he hurried to answer it and was gobsmacked by the huge bouquet of flowers that greeted him. "Delivery for Miss Luna Lovegood," the delivery boy said.

"Weasley," Ron said automatically and took the flowers from him. Reaching into his pocket, he handed the boy a Galleon and closed the door. Without one thought for her privacy, Ron opened the card and began to read: "Beautiful flowers for a beautiful woman. I know that Lunaria actually means wealth, but the name reminded me of you. The innocence of the daisy also reminded me of you. However, the tulip represents my true feelings for you and what I wish our relationship to be. I hope you will reconsider having dinner with me. Always, Stanly."

Ron vowed to look up the meaning of tulips at the first opportunity. His wife certainly had enough books on flowers that he shouldn't have any trouble finding it!

Slamming the vase of flowers on the table, Ron threw the card in their wake and began pacing the floor, waiting for his wife. After thirty minutes, he went to her room to look up the meaning of tulip.

Shaking with fury, he threw the book onto the floor after reading the meaning. "The symbol of perfect lover, is it? Sod that! She is my wife, damn it!"

When he heard the door slam shut, he hurried into the living room to find his wife's arms loaded with bags. "Ron? A little help please?"

"What do you have here?" Ron asked.

"Dinner. I want to try my hand at that roasted lamb your mum says you like so much. You're home early."

"My mum? You've talked to my mum?" Ron asked, forgetting the flowers for the moment.

"Of course, silly. How do you think I know all your favorite dishes?"

Ron shook his head and, after taking the bags to the kitchen, gently took her arm, guiding her back into the living room. Pointing at the flowers, he demanded, "Explain that, please."

"Oh, Ronald! They're lovely! You shouldn't have really, but I adore them so!"

Ron scowled at the dreamy look in his wife's eyes over the flowers. "I didn't. Some bloke named Stanly did. Just who is this Stanly?"

Ron watched as Luna visibly deflated. "Oh. Stanly. He's just a flower expert who came by my work today. Well, he's been by a few times in the past year actually. His company is searching for a very rare breed of flower that is supposed to grow only once every seven years and only here in England. He was looking for people to aide him in the search."

"I suppose you volunteered?"

"Naturally, I did. This is a rare opportunity!"

"Oh, to be sure it is," Ron said, "but I don't think he needs to have dinner with you in order to find it!"

Luna laughed, beaming at her husband. "No, that was strictly personal on his part. No worries, I declined, obviously."

"And yet he feels the need to still send you flowers? What did he say when you told him you were recently married?"

"Ah, well, I didn't exactly tell him that I'm married. Perhaps if I had a wedding band he would have known? At any rate, I simply said, 'No, thank you,' when he asked."

Ron growled. "We don't need wedding rings for only one year of marriage!"

"I need to get started on dinner," Luna said and walked away.

"Did you hear me, woman? We don't need rings for one only year!"

"Yes, I heard you. There's never been anything wrong with my hearing! Perhaps I should go out to dinner with Stanly! At least he's actually interested in me!"

"Over my dead body," Ron said in a deceptively calm voice.

Luna swept by him to answer the knock on the door, both confused and elated by his dominating manner. When she opened the door, she called out, "Stanly! What are you doing here?"

"I've come to see if I could change your mind about dinner, Miss Lovegood. I..."

Ron stomped up and laid a possessive hand on his wife's shoulder. "It's Mrs. Weasley! And, no, she won't be having dinner or anything else with you!" Turning, he picked up the flowers and threw them outside. "Now go, and take your weeds with you when you do!"

When Ron slammed the door, he looked down into Luna's stunned eyes. "Let's go out to eat tonight," he said as if nothing had happened. "There's a new place near the shop I've been wanting to try."

"All right," Luna agreed and wisely decided not to mention the little scene that had just played out. Although she didn't care for his behavior, possessiveness in small doses could be thrilling! She reveled in the fact that her husband had been bothered that much by the thoughts that another man wanted her.

~*~

Hermione was still sitting on the floor by the fireplace, books spread all around her, when Severus had completed his rounds. She'd missed supper, and it was nearly ten. He sighed. "Hermione, you need to eat."

"Sure," she agreed absently. "In a moment. I just want to finish up this reading."

"It's ten, Hermione, and way past time for nourishment. You have to put that to rest for tonight."

"I said in a moment!" she told him irritably. "I need to go over each of these books and make sure that there is not a precedence for this case! I want no surprises if I can help it." She looked up at him then with bloodshot eyes. "He's only a child, Severus."

Severus nodded and walked to the fireplace. Hermione once again buried her head in a book, paying him no attention. She was surprised when he placed a plate with a thick roast beef sandwich and a tall glass of frothy milk on the floor beside her.

She sighed. Picking up her plate, Hermione went to sit on the sofa to eat. She hadn't realized just how hungry she was until her husband had placed the food by her. Grudgingly, she said, "Thanks."

He nodded and began to read the evening paper. Hermione decided to waste no time and picked up a different book and stuck her nose in it as she chewed. Suddenly, she felt his black eyes boring into the top of her head.

"What is it? It's hard to concentrate with you glaring at me, you know!"

"I was hoping you'd satisfy a curiosity of mine. Would you enlighten me by telling me the poem you said when you performed the charm?"

"Why?" she asked.

"Do you remember what you said? I understand that you were quite drunk."

"Yes, I do. I'll not forget it, I think. Why do you want to know?"

"Just humor me, if you don't mind."

Hermione blew out a loud breath and said, "Fine. I said: 'I want a man who's witty and clever with a burning desire to learn. Who won't ridicule, who's never the fool, and will give me all that I yearn.' Happy now?"

Severus burst out laughing. Once he'd caught his breath and saw the unbelievable look on Hermione's face, he laughed again. "You said that and actually thought the charm would choose Weasley?"

Hermione stood and placed her hands on her hips. "For someone who has continually chastised me because of lack of research on this particular charm, you sure seem to be unknowledgeable about the poem aspect of it!"

"Do I indeed? Explain."

"The poem itself is inconsequential! It's not the words that you say. If that were the case, then Ginny's would have picked Harry for sure. She could have simply said, 'Say a poem? Why bother? Just pick for me Harry Potter!' I could have said inny, minny, miney, moe, and it wouldn't have mattered. You still would have been selected.

"The charm chooses your soul mate, not the person you wish to be with. The poem is merely... an ingredient, if you will."

"I see. Makes sense, if you buy into that soul mate poppycock."

"You've said before that you don't. Why?"

"I just find it difficult to believe that there is only one true love for someone. From my observations, people fall in and out of love many times."

"True, but I think there are different kinds of love. I did...do...love Ron, but it's not the deep abiding love that I think it takes to make a lifetime together. Nor do I believe that he loves me in such a way. Molly and Author come to mind when I think of deep abiding love."

"Yes, they seem to have lasted and remain reasonably happy. What of Weasley and Lovegood? You don't seem too terribly upset by that match."

"Oh, it hurt. I won't lie. But I can really have nothing to say on the matter, considering my own situation. And, after all, I performed the charm. It's rather disconcerting, though, seeing him and not being with him."

"Habit?"

Hermione nodded. "Partly. But some of it is that he was mine before. Still, it feels more as if my... jealousy, I suppose... stems from the fact that he was mine first and not that I was so in love with him."

"That is not love. That is ownership."

"If you will," Hermione said coolly.

Severus smirked. "Not if I will. If you will. What will you do when this year is up? Go back to him? Marry him?"

Hermione shook her head sadly. "No. I don't really think we are meant to be. Besides, Ron wouldn't have me back, even if I wanted to. I've hurt him terribly, and that is what really bothers me the most. I never intended to hurt him."

"Um hmm. Well, you know what they say about intentions."

"Yes." Hermione set her empty plate and cup down. Directing her gaze at the books, she told him, "I really need to finish up here. Do all these books bother you? Should I move them into the office?"

"No, you stay here. I have some papers to mark, and with all of this, it would be too crowded. Don't stay up too late," he advised.

"No, I won't. A couple more hours should suffice."

Severus shook his head. She was already lost in her books, barely noticing that he was leaving the room. He chuckled, remembering her poem. Regardless of what she'd claimed, there was no way that Ronald Weasley was on her mind when she'd recited that poem.

A/N: Everyone seems to be moving right along! Sorry to all of you Drarry fans! I'm not a big slash writer...