Percy apparated into the Weasley-Granger household, which was quiet enough that Percy began immediately to worry what the children were up to. Looking blissfully unconcerned, Hermione had her feet kicked up on an ottoman, a thick tome in her lap and her newest child sleeping peacefully in a cradle next to her. When she looked up and noted who her caller was, however, a very guilty look crept over her face.

"Oh, Percy, hello! How are things at the office?"

"They've been a bit, ah, noisy... and you know, frightfully action-filled."

Hermione turned a bit pink. "Oh, yes?"

"But it hasn't really proved an insurmountable difficulty. Did a spot of redecorating, though."

"Ah, lovely." Hermione fidgeted with a teacup.

"But I was wondering if perhaps I could apply for using some of my vacation time - you know, when you come back to work next week."

"Oh, of course," Hermione said, though she looked very surprised by the request, probably because Percy had never taken any of his vacation time before now. "How long were you thinking of going?"

"Oh, six, maybe eight? Would that be alright?"

"Days?" Hermione clarified, looking like she was almost expecting him to specify hours, given his extreme reluctance to take any vacation time in the past.

"Oh, no. Weeks!"

Hermione snorted tea out her nose.

"Really, that's not even half of my accrued vacation time!"

Hermione dabbed delicately at the pages of the book with her sleeve, mopping up the tea.

"But, you see, Oliver has to be back in time for the World Cup."

The teacup dropped onto the floor with a clatter, but didn't break. Percy suspected anti-breaking charms, given the temperament of the Weasley-Granger offspring.

By way of response, Percy allowed himself a self-satisfied, only slightly embarrassed smile.

Hermione sighed, dug around in a bag on the table next to her and called out, "Rooooon!"

Ron shambled over from the kitchen, his hair and wand coated in what appeared to be flour. He greeted Percy distractedly before turning to his wife, "Look, better be quick, I'm leaving the twins alone with Sophonisba and a really large bowl of cookie dough."

Hermione scowled at him, then counted out 30 Galleons from her wallet. She handed the fist of coins wordlessly to her husband.

Ron looked confused for a few seconds, then he looked at his older brother, and broke into a wide smile. "Oliver? Really?!"

Percy flushed and looked at his feet.

Ron crowed, "Ha, I knew it! Way to go, Percy!"

Hermione shrugged apologetically at Percy. "I just thought that Marcus Flint might be more your type."

Something that sounded suspiciously like "toldyouso" emerged from Ron, but was quickly covered up by a cough.

Hermione continued like she hadn't heard, "But Percy, we're really very happy for you... and you know Fred and George will be simply thrilled that it's Oliver, even if they are now deeply in debt to Ron."

Percy didn't know whether to be offended that the bet hadn't been about his orientation (couldn't someone be surprised that he was a great sodding poof?), or offended at the thought that he might find Marcus Flint attractive. In the end he settled on merely being reassured that Hermione didn't know everything after all.

The End (for real this time).