A/N: Thanks to KathyBug, Azusena, laila, AmericanMione, sannihun, SoCochick15, danfan4ever, harrynmione, CrimsonTemplar, snuffles629, xox sweetersorrow xox, mysterium26, Roses in bloom, watchoutforme, Mani12191, glitterfairyxoxo, Psy Girl, ears91, crewbabe89, and anonymous reviews for your wonderful feedback.
Thanks also to Hermione G. Potter, for the heads up.
"Draw the Line" is by Aerosmith. The song doesn't really have a tie in with this chapter, but I liked the title.
Disclaimer: The beginning of this story was inspired by Sophie Kinsella's "Can You Keep A Secret?"
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Girl Boy
Chapter Ten: Draw the Line
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(Hermione)
Colin sat opposite me, drinking his coffee with surprising calm as he glanced into my eyes to gauge my reaction.
"Colin...these are just..."
I was speechless.
I was holding photographs in my hands. Gleaming, large photographs. Beautiful ones. Of me.
"They're just what?" he finally asked. All I could do was shake my head.
I looked...beautiful.
"When did you take these?"
"Oh...just here and there...whenever you weren't looking, of course."
"How'd you manage to take pictures of me without my knowledge?"
"It's called hiding and an incredibly expensive zoom option, my friend."
They were pictures of me eating, laughing, working, on the phone...it was brilliant.
"These are just brilliant," I finally stated, smiling at him. "Absolutely, bleedingly brilliant."
"You'll let me use them?"
"For what?"
"For what? For my job! Remember, when Mr. Potter offered me that photography job getting ad pictures for the new female line?"
"You're...you're putting me on advertisements?"
"Have you seen these pictures, Hermione? Every woman would clamor at the opportunity to look like you."
"I'm not a model, Colin. Why can't you-"
"That's the point. Who wants to be a model, look like one. I'd rather look like you, if I had the choice. You see the one with you on the phone?"
I was in one of those spinny chairs with the chord wrapped all around my body. And I'm laughing, my head tossed back while I'm talking to April during break. I couldn't help but smile as I looked at it.
"Or look at this one. You're drinking out of your Portkey cup, and you've just snorted with laughter after Penelope's hair got caught in her fan. Remember?"
How could I forget. I should've been shocked with horror but she had been attempting to toss her long hair over her shoulder gracefully to impress the new intern...
"You've got this huge whipped cream mustache and one hand's underneath the cup and it's beautiful."
"What would they use these pictures for?" I asked, intensely curious. "What item would it represent?"
"I don't know...I just take the pictures. Oh, look at this one...I like this one the best."
He then handed me the largest picture of all and my breath caught in my throat.
It was me and Harry...that day he perched on my desk, talking to me about Alexander Dumas and his works of literature. He was sitting on my desk, leaning slightly towards me, that small smile on his face. And then there I was, both my hands gesticulating with my eyes wide and my face relaxed and my mouth in that smiling, excited, talking motion, leaning slightly towards him. It made a beautiful picture of proportion, leaning towards each other with both of our profiles. But there was something else about the picture that Colin had just captured...some type of chemistry that was flowing between Harry and me that was just evident, beaming off the page.
"That's my favorite. I think they're going to use it for the perfume."
I still hadn't told Colin about Harry...what I'd read...
"It's a wonderful picture, Colin."
"What's wrong?"
"What?"
Colin frowned at me before taking the picture out of my hands, scrutinizing it for himself.
"What happened with Potter?"
"N-nothing, Colin!"
He gave me another look and I frowned, glancing back at the photograph.
"I was walking to work yesterday..."
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(April)
"So she finally broke up with Justin to find out that Potter's been having a relationship behind her back...but he just broke up with THAT girlfriend, and she hasn't talked to him yet?"
"Yup."
"Well, at least he broke up with this...what'd you say her name was, Ginny Weasley?"
"And they were never officially together in the first place, Hermione can't truly be pissed off. Maybe their relationship was already over, but whatever newspaper she read it from just got wind of it and in their pathetic attempt to pretend to be staying on top of the news, they wrote it as if it just happened."
"But still, he led her on when he had a girlfriend dangling on his arm already!"
Melissa sighed, resting her elbows on the small table.
"I just don't think Hermione should lose it with this guy," she said. "It's not like he asked her out...it was just one date, and then he went to break it off with this Ginny person."
"But he still made her think that he was single," Samantha interrupted, and I nodded. "She shouldn't stay with him if he lied like that. He should have been straightforward from the beginning."
"It's just...I haven't seen her this happy for a long time," I muttered. "I'd hate for that to go, even if she dumped him for a good reason."
"I still say she talk to him about it," Melissa said, nodding at my words. "Maybe she's mistaken."
"We called the hotel and got ahold of Draco Malfoy, the man Ginny Weasley was seeing behind Potter's back...he said they were engaged. Engaged, Liss, not just going out. He was engaged to this woman."
"He had a fiancé?!" Samantha hissed in outrage.
"If you put it that way..."
"That's what I've been saying from the top!" Samantha said, shredding her napkin to bits. "Drop the bleeding bastard!"
"She hasn't talked to him yet," I muttered, sighing. "We can't pass judgement until she does."
"Hell yes we can pass judgement," Melissa nearly screamed, her eyes wild. "If he thinks he can play our Hermione-"
"I say we castrate him," Samantha hissed. "There's nothing more pitiful than a cheating man without his inflated willy."
"What about starving children in Africa?"
Melissa, Samantha and I turned to see Harry Potter standing behind us, a small smile on his face. In his left hand he held a paper bag from the café we were currently sitting at and in his right, he held a bouquet of daisies.
"Mr. Harry Potter," Melissa finally said, her eyes flashing. "What a pleasure."
"The pleasure's all mine, I'm sure."
The air was full of tension as we flexed our claws yet Harry continued to smile. I'd assume it was frozen on his face from terror. I couldn't help but smile back, feeling as if this day wasn't a complete and total waste.
Prime, fleshy meat for us to feast upon.
"Did you have a nice visit to France, Mr. Potter?" Samantha asked.
"It's Harry. And yes, I did. Nice of you to ask."
Bring out the bibs, soap and gloves.
"Did you do anything special during your stay?" I piped in.
"Business. But of course I made time to visit a few friends."
"A few friends? In Paris? I didn't know you were from France," Melissa said coyly, bending her straw.
"I'm not, but they were there for a writing convention. Invited, actually."
"Oh?" Samantha asked. "Who? Carrie Bradshaw?"
"Actually, a childhood friend by the name of Ginny Weasley."
We shared a glance and Melissa quirked an eyebrow before saying, "Childhood friend? Is that french for fiancé?"
~-~-~-~-~-~
(Harry)
W-what?
"I wasn't aware that there could be a french translation for a french word," I finally said.
Was that sweat prickling my hairline?
"Ah, so you mean Ginny Weasley as in fiancé in France you just broke up with."
"F-fiancé?"
"Jig's up, Potter." April glared at me, her olive skin flushing impressively with anger. "We know what game you're playing, and we're not about to let you land a hotel on Hermione Boulevard."
What?
"What are you talking about?"
Hermione Boulevard? Oh...Monopoly...I hated that game...Dudley shoved those hotels up my nose one time when I beat him...
"Ginarry, Potter. We know all about it."
They knew?
How the bleeding, fucking hell did they know?!
"You...what...how..."
April smirked at me, grabbing her tray and getting up from the table.
"It was awfully nice seeing you again, Harry," she said sweetly, smiling at me. The two other girls followed suit, leaving the café in satisfied silence.
Shit.
Bleeding hell, was...how did they know that? They couldn't have read the Daily Prophet, or Witch Weekly, or the Quibbler, or the Wizard's Digest, or Stun Me!, or all the other countless tabloids...could they?
But nearly all the wizarding world knew...maybe someone tipped them off...
Shit.
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(Colin)
So there I was, conversing with Hermione on her distasterdly love escapades when in walks three girls. Even from a distance I knew who it was...who could mistake Melissa's strut, Samantha's hair and April's giggle?
Eugh.
So they come in, twittering like a flock of buzzards as they feasted on Hermione's recent troubles. They even had the nerve to gossip about their close encounter with a certain Harry Potter.
Women.
"Daisies?" Hermione asked, clearly excited. She loved daisies; they were her favorite. I knew she was a millimeter closer to accepting Potter's impossible apology now.
"He was carrying a bouquet of daisies," April said, her eyebrows raised.
"Did he admit?" Hermione continued.
"To bastardly defeat?" April replied, placing her hands on her hips. "He stuttered. That's better than any written vow from a man."
"Offended," I said, raising my hand.
"You don't count, Colin," April said, smiling at me. "You're more than a guy. You're like...a friend."
"Oh," I said. "Glad to have that cleared up."
"I think he was going to the apartment," April whispered. "You might want to go and try to meet him..."
"Um, offended?" I said again, raising my hand once more. "She's out with me, you gossiping witches!"
"How about you come out with us, and allow her to actually use those disgusting boots she bought two weeks ago to stick them permanently up his bleeding ass," Melissa said, grinning at me. "You still owe me a drink, after all."
"That's not fair," I said, grinning as well. "I was drunk when I made that bet."
"Even someone completely pissed should have known that the bartender was gay!" she countered, laughing. "He was completely flirting with you!"
"Once again, drunk in my defense."
"You know what, I think I will go back up to the apartment...I'll see you gals at the flat for dinner."
Hermione grabbed her bag and mouthed "sorry" at me before walking out of the bakery and onto the sidewalk. The door chimed with her departure accompanied by four sighs and eight eyes following her movements up the street from the windows.
"I hope she's allright," I finally said, breaking the silence. Melissa nodded before taking a seat next to me in the booth. Samantha and April sat opposite us.
"I hope she bleeding kicks his arse," Melissa said, pining her hair behind her ear. The other two girls nodded before taking sips from their respective cappuccinos. I sighed, my fork wandering around my Caesar Salad. The fork scraped unnecessarily on the white plate. We couldn't bother to catch each others' eye; we were too busy glancing off in opposite directions, finding anything for our eyes to settle on while we contemplated the hazardous ways Potter could die.
Time to lighten the mood.
"I pray for Potter's safe being," I said as I raised my glass of lemonade. The three girls looked at me as if I had transformed into Potter himself, three pairs of daggers piercing the vulnerable skin of my neck and making my voice hitch. "As a fellow bastard of the race women constantly refer to as penises, it is my obligation."
Catching on, Melissa, Samantha and April followed suit, raising their cappuccinos as they attempted to maintain their serious expressions.
"To Potter," Samantha said. "And may Hermione's boot rot in his ass."
"To Potter!" Melissa and April said before taking a sip.
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(Hermione)
How. Dare. He.
How bleeding dare he! He has the nerve to smile at me after what he did, make my knees melt and make me forget about that stupid article I read?
How dare he stand there at the door to my apartment, holding that beautiful arrangement of daisies looking absolutely adorable in those jeans and that shirt and his ruffled hair.
"Hermione!" he said the moment I walked off the flat, grinning at me and walking towards me.
Well I had had quite enough.
"Mr. Potter," I nodded in acknowledgment. "What a pleasant surprise."
He stopped in his steps and cocked his head like a confused puppy, clearly wondering where my shoulder had found a freezer. I swear. Pathetic! Learning his manners from a dog...how typical. How abso-bloody-lutely typical!
"I just got back from France," he began. "And I-"
"Do tell me of all your misshapen adventures while in the most romantic country in the world," I shouted while sticking my key into the front door. Just seeing him here, with the flowers and the apologetic smile and the worrisome eyes made me sick to my stomach, wonder what I had ever seen in such a man.
Why was I stuck with all the terrible scum? And when I found a nice one, why couldn't there be any chemistry? Why?!
The moment I stepped off the flat I knew. I knew it was the truth I'd read, that the suspicions I'd carried for the past day rang correct. It was just the way he was looking at me, holding the flowers, waiting for my return.
I just knew.
And it killed me.
It killed me that I'd been happy the past few days, overjoyed by the simple fact that I'd maybe found someone. That I wasn't going to be alone, that I'd found warm arms and soft lips and comforting eyes and that for once, Hermione Granger had landed herself a handsome, decent right-for-her man.
But I was wrong.
"Well, what I was-"
"Because you don't have to explain it to me!" I replied, throwing my keys on the counter. Harry followed me into my apartment and part of me hated him for entering my house another time.
Call me over-dramatic; he had a fiancé while he was sweet talking me!
"Actually," I hissed, turning to face him. His eyebrows raised of their own accord and he looked slightly terrified. "Do explain it to me. Why try to get me between your legs when you already had a fiancé? And then why go all the way to France to end that wonderful relationship while only pecking me on the cheek?"
"Hermione," he began slowly, "let me explain."
"There's nothing to explain!" I yelled, throwing my hands in the air. "You've answered my question already! Just get out, Potter. Get the bleeding hell out."
"No."
"What?!"
"You're right," he muttered, looking me in the eyes. "You're completely right. I was engaged to Ginny Weasley. But after Ron died...our relationship died. We were going to break it off, but she went to a writing convention and I came here and we thought maybe a break would do us some good."
He broke off to see if I was still waiting for him to leave my flat. Which I was. But I closed my mouth and crossed my arms, and he continued.
"It didn't. Because I met you. I...I liked you. Okay? I did...I didn't mean to hurt you, or get between your legs, or string you along. I honestly liked you. And when you lied to Finch-Fletchey, I took the opportunity to get to know you better. I didn't think I'd fall for you so fast...but I did. There was just something about you, and I knew I wouldn't get a second chance at something so perfect. So I decided during dinner that I was going to end it with Ginny and start a new relationship with you. I tried to tell you, but...well...that's no excuse. I should have, I know. But I was scared. I was scared that if I had told you, you would have slipped through my fingers and I would have lost you, lost the opportunity. So I kept quiet...but now I see I should've come clean. Instead, I went to France to see Ginny, and to break it up. Can't you see that I hadn't planned on meeting you and falling in love? That in my haste to make my life right for once in my life-"
"Don't you dare pull the pity card on me," I hissed. "And it doesn't excuse the fact that you were engaged while putting the charms on me. You were engaged, Harry! Planning to give your life eternally to one woman, and I never even saw a ring on your finger. You lied to me...and worst of all, you treated Ginny Weasley horribly. How could I be with someone who can't be somewhat faithful to their current fiancé?"
"I'm sorry," he whispered, taking a step closer. "I just wish-"
"That you were truthful? Honest?!"
"I am!" he shouted, his green eyes blazing. "Just because-"
But that was the final straw.
Just because what?
He'd LIED?!
"Get out!" I screamed. Then something miraculous happened. The windows on the opposite wall flew open and a huge gust of wind pummeled into Harry, pushing him out into the hallway along with his bouquet of flowers. Then the door closed.
Oh.
Well.
Miraculous indeed.
I stood in shock before I turned around and closed the windows with surprising ease.
Then I turned back around to look at my apartment, expecting a huge mess. It was exactly as I remembered it; no loitering paper, no spilled cups, no screaming disaster.
It was as if the wind had just blown Harry and his flowers out of my life.
I went to the refrigerator and took out the chocolate milk, pouring myself a glass before replacing it back on its shelf. Then I went to the counter, pulled back a stool and sat on it.
I took a deep breath and then put a Crazy Straw into my cup. I noticed that in my haste, I spilled some chocolate milk on the counter. There was this glob of chocolate-milk-goodness pooled to stare at me, but for once, I didn't care. Instead, I bent forward, placed the straw between my lips, and took a nice, long, gulp to calm my nerves.
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(Harry)
"That you were truthful? Honest? A decent guy?!"
Her words echoed through my ears as I was thrown backwards into the hall, landing painfully on my back as the bouquet of daisies itched my face. I swiped them off my face and quickly stood up, breathing hard.
Truthful?
Honest?!
A decent guy.
I sighed.
She had done magic, I was sure of it. Accidental, sure. She seemed surprised as I was literally thrown from her flat. Her anger must have just sparked the magic to answer to her words.
But I was truthful. I was.
I mean, okay. I pretended to be single while I met Hermione. But that wasn't my fault...not at the beginning. She never asked, and I didn't feel the need to offer. And the wizarding world wasn't big on engagement rings. Not even wedding rings. It was a muggle tradition, and although we were temporarily in the muggle world, we didn't feel the need to completely change our lifestyles.
I said the wrong thing. I'll admit. "Just because I" must not have sounded so convincing in Hermione's ears. But it was the words she said right before that threw me off, that took me in a fireplace of floo powder back to my fifth year.
Dishonest.
I was telling the bleeding truth.
Voldemort was back, the Deatheaters had returned, and if the ministry had listened to me from the beginning...
It still pained me to think about it. And after all these years, my spine still bristled from the ideas of the past. Of what could've been prevented if those bastards had just...
Honest?
Damn right I was honest.
But it wasn't her fault she used those words...I had been dishonest to her. And my reaction to her words weren't in my favor, no matter what history she didn't know about me.
Fuck, I thought dejectedly.
I just fucking fucked it up.
I sat there for hours. In that hallway that always smelled like Aunt Petunia's Citrus Spray, with the broken daisies in my lap and my back aching against the cool wood of the wall.
I wasn't going to give up.
But I didn't know what I was going to do, either.
So I just sat there.
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