A/N: I thought I'd already mentioned this before in previous author notes, but I suppose it's my own fault for not making an official disclaimer. In any case, thanks to the reviewers that mentioned that in giving me a heads up to a possible plagiarism.
I tried to get this one out quickly so I'm not a hundred on the quality, but I doubt I'd do much revising with it anyway. This one was surprisingly really easy to write.
Thanks also to xox sweeter sorrow xox, harryhermione731, handhr4eva, ascher67, harrynmione, laila, Anu, OrangeCrush, Soni11, Narami, Lindsay, Kathybug, Tori, Mani12191, danfan4ever, watchoutforme, hermi19, chubo, hermi19, kobebryant27992, CrimsonTemplar, Austenlover, JazzyGeorgie, and anonymous reviewers for reviewing! I love it. Keep reviewing and I'll keep updating!
The song "Not what It Seems," is by Something Corporate on their "Leaving Through the Window" CD. Woot the SoCo.
Disclaimer: The beginning of this story follows the beginning of the book "Can You Keep a Secret?" by Sophie Kinsella.
~-~-~-~-~-~
Girl Boy
Chapter Nine: Not What It Seems
~-~-~-~-~-~
(Harry)
Fuck.
That's all I could think when I saw the front page of the Daily Prophet. It was me. And Ginny. At that restaurant, holding hands on the table, talking.
Then I saw the headline.
"AFFAIRS RIP GINARRY APART-WILL IT LAST?"
Ginarry.
Dear. Lord.
An engagement from nearly birth ended last night when Harry "boy-who-saved-us-all" Potter broke up with Ginny Weasley at La Amour, a restaurant on the outskirts of Paris. Weasley, who had been invited to and attending a muggle writing convention in Paris, met with Potter after a disastrous spat with Draco Malfoy, a fellow invitee and coincidently, the "traitor-turned-spy" of the war.
Malfoy revealed while Potter and Weasley were eating dinner that he and Weasley had, in fact, been having an affair.
"Get the fuck away from me," the disgruntled, bitter Malfoy said when a reporter asked him kindly where Weasley was. "Probably eating dinner with her fiancé."
Nearly three minutes after Potter and Weasley took their seats they decided to break up due to conflicting affections for other people. Weasley stated that she adored Malfoy while Potter admitted to having feelings for a muggle by the name of Hermione Granger.
Potter, who for the last few years has built a muggle empire with now deceased Ronald Weasley, seems to have fallen for an executive under his command at the London capital of "Portkey," his flourishing business.
"Why Potter would be dumping Ginny Weasley for some smocked up muggle is beyond me," Erica Malinksi said after hearing the horrifying news. "They're a perfect couple! They'll realize it soon enough, mark my words."
I can't read any more.
Ginarry.
For Merlin's sake.
I shuffled the paper and closed it, laying it next to my untouched breakfast as I rubbed my temples.
So the wizarding world knows now. At least it's done and over and I wasn't available for comment.
I wonder if Ginny knows?
No, best not bother her with this. Hell knows she'll get all riled up...she's always hated the press.
And Hermione...
I had to tell her.
Like, now, before she sees the Prophet for herself and-
Wait. She can't get the Prophet. She probably can't see it, for Merlin's sake. She's a muggle, right? I mean...unless she's a muggle-born...
But she can't. She can't be. That would...she can't. Hogwarts stopped admitting muggle-borns my first year...without any magical training I doubt she's refined her magic, and without refined magic you can't see these things because you just don't believe it...even if she was a muggle-born, which is a preposterous idea. Absolutely impossible.
Don't sweat, Potter. It'll work out. It's time to go home and tell her and it'll be okay.
It'll be fine.
~-~-~-~-~-~
(Hermione)
I was utterly, utterly exhausted.
April and I spent the night watching Disney movie after Disney movie and I forgot I had a board meeting this morning.
Damnit.
I need caffeine.
Looking around, I realized that I was in that strange intersection that didn't have any familiar stores. I walked through here everyday and not once did I see anything...in fact, it had a strange atmosphere...
How peculiar.
There's five starbucks in one block but this intersection never had any coffee provenders.
Damnit, I was desperate.
I rubbed my eyes and squinted through the glaring sun and suddenly I saw something across the street...
I really needed something to drink...something to wake me up...
Were those people in robes? Why would they be in robes? I squinted a little more and realized they had walked right into an alley...
But I couldn't see them anymore. They crawled into an alley and disappeared? In robes? What type of weird, British mafia...
Wait...that wasn't an alley...it was a...store...pub...thing...
...the...Leaky...Cauldron? The Leaky Cauldron?
Huh.
Well, it has to have something to drink.
Looking both ways I crossed the street and cautiously opened the door, peering in.
This was positively medieval.
Candles, no electricity, stone floors, stone walls, creaky old furniture...
What was this place?
As I looked around I noticed a pile of newspapers. I didn't have time to read the London Times this morning, and I couldn't miss current news, so I walked a little closer to pick one up. The Daily Prophet. Huh. I've never heard of it. Were...were the pictures moving? Wow...what...the pictures are...is that Harry? Wow, on the front page...
...Ginarry?
~-~-~-~-~-~
(Ginny)
This felt so...so right.
Naked entwinement never felt so deliciously, sinfully good before.
I opened my eyes and after wiping the hair out of my vision I looked up to see Draco snoring quietly, his mouth slightly open and his blonde hair pillowing his head.
I couldn't help but smile.
"Stop staring at me, bint," he muttered, opening his eyes slightly to peer down at me.
"So sorry, Mr. Malfoy."
He made a grunt before closing his eyes and pulling me closer to him.
I nestled my head on his chest before taking a deep breath and just thinking about what had just occurred last night. This morning.
Yup.
For once, everything was all right.
And that was fine by me.
~-~-~-~-~-~
(April)
I. Fucking. Knew. It.
"Muggle? What the bleeding hell is a muggle?"
"Nasty insult, I'm sure. It's not in the dictionary...I would know."
"Where'd you read this?"
"'The Daily Prophet.' The newspaper I picked up while I was in the Leaky Cauldron...this strange pub I wandered into while I was looking for someplace to find some coffee. You should have read the article, April, it was just..."
"Hermione, let me see the paper."
She handed it to me, and I glanced at it before looking at Hermione, an eyebrow arched.
"What?" she asked, noticing my gaze.
"Hermione, this is a bundle of blank paper."
"No, it's..." but her words died away as she looked at what I held in my hand.
It was, in fact, blank paper.
"I was reading it on the flat, I don't know what happened..."
Hermione stared at the paper in my hands before I threw them over the counter.
"You must've switched it somehow. In any case, you're telling me that Potter's been dating and was actually engaged to this woman named Virginia Weasley for years and just now broke up with her in Paris, unbeknownst to any of us or the media, who recently just named him Europe's sexiest bachelor alive? Even gossip-hungry Samantha or always-finds-out Melissa?"
"Yes."
Hermione sighed, dropping her forehead to the kitchen counter.
"I always knew something was up," she muttered. "He was just too perfect."
When I first heard Hermione raving about this secret engagement I couldn't believe her...how could no one know about the sexy bachelor's clandestine relationship? But then I saw her like this, and I knew she was seriously contemplating the possibilities...a mere passing thought would never affect her like this. She needed serious evidence to get her this riled up, and I think she found it.
"Don't say that, Hermione. Never assume until you've asked him. I mean, you owe him that much. Then, when he seems guilty, you nail him."
"I suppose you're right, April...innocent until proven guilty...."
"Ah, but then again, he's a guy."
"Meaning what?"
"If there's a dick, there's a lying bastardly scheme."
"Don't be so sexist."
"It's how I've survived until this point of my life! If I were to stop, I would cease to exist as a female being."
"If you were to stop, you might be able to find a nice guy."
"That, my friend, is impossible. There is no such thing as me finding a 'nice guy.'"
"If I found one, you can."
"Justin's an exception."
"How's that?"
"There's only one of him."
"Oh, April..."
"Let's stop focusing on my pathetic inexistence of a love life with a 'nice guy,' allright? You've got bigger issues to chew...where's Potter now?"
"Probably still in Paris."
"Call him up!"
"I can't! I don't know his number!"
"What hotel is he staying at?"
"I don't know..."
I screwed up my face to think. C'mon...think think think think think think think think
"Ginny Weasley!" I screamed in excitement, pumping my arms as I scurried to Hermione's laptop.
"What?" Hermione asked, her hair a mess from her constant hands-pulling-hair frustration. "What about Ginny Weasley?"
"She's at a writing convention in France. Considering she was invited, it must be a big deal, meaning we'll be able to find out about it on the internet and figure out what hotel they're all staying at. When we figure that out we can call up the hotel and ask for her."
"What if they won't let us talk to her unless we know her? Some hotels are exclusive like that, you know."
"Don't worry about it, Hermione. When push comes to shove, I can lie like a bitch."
Once the laptop completely loaded I clicked on the internet icon and quickly typed in google. "Writing convention Paris July 2005," I muttered as I typed in the words. I hit the return button with a flourish and waited approximately .19 seconds for the page to load.
"The Merlin Writing Convention held in Paris, France," I stated, beaming at her.
"How original," Hermione scoffed.
"Okay, they're in the Jeu de Paume."
"The Jeu de Paume? I've heard-"
"Doesn't matter what you heard. How much do you think a call to Paris is going to cost us?"
"I doubt we have to worry about it with my promotion," Hermione stated, grabbing the cordless phone next to us. "What's the number?"
"It's-"
"Wait," Hermione muttered, placing the phone back in its cradle. "We can't do this."
"What?"
Now she lets her conscience take over?
"Now you let your conscience take over?"
"Why should I do this to Ginny Weasley? She didn't do anything to me...for all I know, she had nothing to do with me and Harry. It isn't her fault Harry lied to me...if he did..."
She had a point.
I sighed, leaning back on Hermione's recliner as Hermione ran her fingers once again through her already frizzy hair. We sat there, looking at each other, for the longest time. I didn't know what to do...a part of me wanted to call up this Ginny Weasley and demand everything...but then the logical, smarter side of me agreed with what Hermione was saying. Did she really deserve this? This invasion of privacy?
"How about you just call her up and ask her for Harry's number," I said as Hermione glanced away from me. "Or ask her if she knows what hotel he's at."
"I don't know, Pri..."
"You deserve to know whatever happened because it does involve you, 'Mione! Ask her for Harry, where he is, when he's getting back, anyway to get ahold of him. You need to talk to him about this...and it wouldn't be invading her privacy in the slightest. It really wouldn't. And if this Ginny person hasn't even heard of you, you've got your answer. He was really stringing you along until he broke up with her."
Hermione was such a good person.
It made me love her more than I already did, if that was even humanly possible.
"All right," she whispered. "But I can't speak French. I speak Latin, Italian and Greek, but-"
"Technically you don't even speak Latin. You sorta can't, Hermione."
"Dead doesn't mean worthless."
"Just hand me the phone."
"You speak French?"
"I did in high school."
"April..."
"I think I can remember some of it. They made us do these sorta conversations over and over. I didn't think it would do me any good, but..."
Hermione gave me the phone and I punched in the numbers, waiting as the phone rang.
"Est-ce que bonjour, l'hôtel de Jeu de Paume, comment je peux vous aider?" a lady replied on the other end, a little too quickly. I just assumed she said, "Hello, how can I help you?" like any well-trained employee would say.
Crap.
I know this.
"Bonjour," I started, swallowing. "Uh...pourriez-vous me relier, um, á une mme. Ginny Weasley?"
I really hope I said that right.
Hermione was looking at me with that slight smile on her face as if she found the entire thing humorous. More like me struggling with French funny. Although, my teacher always said I had an amazingly natural accent. Go me.
"Je suis désolé, mais nous ne pouvons pas directement vous relier à sa pièce. Il est contre le règlement d'hôtel."
What?
What'd she say?
Damnit...
Hermione struggled to contain her laughter across from me. I guess she saw me scrunch of my face in verbal disgust.
Okay...remember back when...sorry, could you repeat that? Sorry...could...you...repeat...that...
"Désolé, pourriez-vous répéter cela?"
That sounds right. Doesn't it?
The lady restated her previous sentence somewhat slower and I scrunched my eyes, trying to decipher what she said.
Sorry...can't...direct...room...hotel policy?
Oh.
This is an emergency. C'mon, you remember this! Say it!
Chapter two during my second semester of sophomore year.
Damnit, that doesn't help me!
"C'est une urgence," I babbled, smiling. Wow. I rock.
"Quelle relation devez-vous Mlle Weasley?"
What what?
Oh, relation.
I'm her...niece?
Oooh...family emergency...
Clearing my throat I scrunched my face, preparing myself for fake tears.
"Je suis sa nièce. Il y a eu une urgence de famille, svp..."
I heard the lady sigh before muttering "Svp prise."
The phone began ringing again.
Yes!
Booya!
I shoved the phone into Hermione's hands.
I knew those four years learning French would be worth something.
Let the magic begin.
~-~-~-~-~-~
(Draco)
I bleeding hate telephones.
There I was, a naked Ginny Weasley sleeping next to me when the phone rings to interrupt me.
"Hello," I yawn. I should've just let it go. Why did I pick it up, anyway?
"Hello, is a Ms. Ginny Weasley there?"
"Yeah," I muttered, glancing at her sleeping figure. "But unfortunately you may not converse with her, so please, never call here again."
I made to hang up before I heard her plead, "Please, Mr. Malfoy?"
"Who is this?" I demanded after a slight, startled hesitation.
"I'm...well...I'm Hermione Granger. You probably don't know me, but I'm...well...a friend of Harry Potter's. Not exactly a friend. Actually, I am a friend. It's just...I'm..."
"Get on with it," I drawled, scratching my beautiful head. I needed a shower. Smirking, I saw Ginny stretch her legs beside me. Maybe she needed one, too. Regardless, I was going to drag-
"I was wondering if you possibly knew what hotel Har-Mr. Potter was staying at, or when he was returning to London, or-"
"No, and no."
"Oh..."
I waited for her to continue but she didn't. I heard her breathing and a slight clinking noise indicated that she was probably drumming her fingernails on a surface, but I had better things to do than listen to this bleeding shit.
"Is that all you want to bother me with?"
"Yes...well, no...I..." She sighed and I rolled my eyes. "To be honest, Mr. Potter and I had a developing relationship and I wanted to know whether or not the tabloids were correct in informing the public of his and Ms. Ginny Weasley's recently discontinued engagement."
Wait a bleeding second...
"Tabloids?" I asked, pushing myself up so I sat on the bed with my back against the headboard. "What tabloids?"
"The Daily Prophet. If you could please answer my question, Mr. Malfoy, I could just-"
"You read the Daily Prophet and you didn't know about their engagement before?"
"It...should I have known about their relationship before? It was my first time reading the Daily Prophet, actually, and-"
"How the bleeding hell is it your first time?"
"Well you don't normally find that newspaper where I live! Normally I read the London Times or Newsweek or-"
"The London Times?"
What? Who was this person?
"You...you are a witch, right?" I asked, staring at the phone.
"What? I'm a what?"
"You're a muggle?!" I said, aghast at the possibility. A muggle read the Daily Prophet? How would a muggle get ahold of something like that? Could they even see it? Wouldn't the paper wipe itself blank?
"What does that term imply! The article I read stated that I was such a word, what do you call it, a 'muggle,' and I demand to know what type of lingo you people are using-"
"Calm down, calm down."
Trust Potter to mingle with an uninformed muggle.
Hell, what do I do...
"What did you say your name was?"
"Draco, who're you talking to?"
Ginny stirred next to me and I shushed her before the woman on the phone stated, "Hermione Granger."
"Hermione Granger," I said aloud, looking at Ginny. Her eyebrows raised the moment she heard the name and she made to take the phone away from me. I, however, grabbed it out of her reach.
Aha.
"Mr. Malfoy, you mentioned earlier that if I had previously read the Daily Prophet I would have known about their engagement. Were they really...um...engaged?"
"Well yeah, but-"
"Thanks for your time, Mr. Malfoy."
And she hung up.
Ginny successfully grabbed the phone and brought it to her ear...only to find silence.
"What did you say to her?" she asked, her eyes wide.
"Nothing!" I took the phone and put it back in its cradle. "Nothing at all." Ginny gave me a look and I smiled. "Really. She just asked me if you and Potter really were together and I told her yeah."
"Malfoy!"
"Back to Malfoy, are you? You seemed to enjoy 'Draco,' screaming it in ecstasy all night long..."
"Shut it, this is more serious than our sexcapades."
"Which aren't quite over yet."
"Will you freeze your dick for a second? Do you know what you just did?"
"Hm...screw Potter over?"
"Yes!"
"And that's a problem?"
Ginny grabbed her pillow and wacked me with it with enough force for me to topple off the bed. Damn.
"Shit, Harry's probably on the plane right now," I heard her mutter. "Shit..."
I should probably feel guilty.
But like that's ever going to happen.
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reviewing's good for the soul...
A/N: I don't know French, so I merely used the Translator on Dictionary.com. I hope it worked out allright.