Hermione knew that Harry wouldn’t take no for an answer, not after her previous six "no’s" in a row. She committed to meeting them at the leaky cauldron. Not her favorite, but drinking, well that was something she’d become much better at since returning to London. The bar was full of the evening ministry crowd, the musty wet smell of rained-on clothing and coats in the squished space. It was pouring now, unavoidable even if you happened to apparate right into the threshold.