Simply Desirable

Shooting-Star

Rating: R
Genres: Drama, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 4
Published: 04/03/2003
Last Updated: 04/05/2003
Status: in_progress

When Hermione returns to the wizarding world after being away for the last five years, she finally decides to own up to her feeling on Harry. But when she finds out he's engaged, an affair, lies, secrets, old friends, new friends and many other factors make both Harry and Hermione reflect upon their relationship with one another and realise that not everything is as it seems.

Chapters

1. The Golden Rule of Being Female

2. Chapter 2: Telephones

3. Chapter 3

1. The Golden Rule of Being Female

Disclaimer: Do you *really* think I own Harry Potter? Because then I suggest getting your head checked…

AN: Okay, yes, I *am* still working on ‘Swirling Colours’, but my beta has it, so I can’t post it… And at www.portkey.org, this challenge just leapt out at me. Basically I have to write a story containing three quotes. Check it out if you want. Anyway, on to the story.

***

Simple Desirable

***

Chapter 1: The Golden Rule of Being Female

***

It is one of the most amazing feelings in the world to wake up next to the man of your dreams. After a long night of seeking another's soul, mixed with wine and chocolates and silk sheets and a huge house where you are alone, with only your lover lying next to you, waking up is like dying and waking up in heaven. It is simply wondrous.

And then the real-world hits you like a train. Because, if you've learned anything in your life, it is not to sleep with a man who is in love with another woman. And as you survey the Master Bedroom Suite, with it's white lacy decor, silk sheets rustling beneath you, duvet cover on top, in the arms of the most perfect man in the world, life is looking very bleak.

See, I'm not really sure where to start. Should I start at the very beginning, when we first met? Or maybe when I first thought I was falling in love with him? Or the day I went away? Or the day I returned? Or, perhaps the day I found out you were engaged. No, none of them are right. I don't believe I've ever been in something so complicated. Seriously.

You may laugh at me. I don't care. I managed to get myself in such a mess, as in, what am I to do when *he* wakes up. And even then, I must admit the greatest pleasure in life is doing what people say you can't. Of course, no one said out right to me I couldn't sleep with the man of my dreams, when he's engaged to someone else. But who cares?

Apparently his fiancé. Unfortunately. Of course, that is, *if* she finds out. And I am the Mistress of hiding things. After all, how could I have hidden the fact I was head over heels in love with my best-friend for the last seven years? Of course, that is quite a different matter, seeing as there is also another party in this particular secret, and it all rests on him. Please, dear Lord, let him agree with me to keep this a secret. Oh, and please don't let him throw me out of the house, refusing to see or hear from me again.

And then I hear a rustling sound, as he starts stirring. Damn. At least she isn't home yet. And he always *has* been forgiving. But still. I'd rather not have to be in such a situation. Please, don't wake up, please don't wake up, please don't wake up_ "Hermi?" Damn again.

"Yes?" I ask, praying he won't remember what happened and I can just slip away, saying I was a figment of his imagination.

"We should get dressed." Practical as always. You'd think that being rich, famous and powerful would go to someone's head, but it was never an issue with him. He doesn't care.

And he was *always* practical. He owns both muggle and wizarding clothing, knows muggle history, science, sports, news and anything that would convince you he was a muggle. And on the other hand, he is one of the most famous wizards of all time. But every single bone in his body is practical. Sometimes I wish he *was* a bit more extravagant.

"Right". I drawl. Of course, what the most perfect thing in the world would be to snuggle up to him again and repeat the love making we had just shared. But real-life is *not* a fantasy world. Unfortunately. He throws the covers back, revealing his toned body. How am I to help myself from staring at this magnificent body before me. His broad shoulders, lean chest, chiselled abs, trim waist, I'm not going to even go into the perfection of *that* region, long, muscled legs…stop drooling, girl.

I stand up, facing the other direction as I hunt for my clothes. My bra is seemingly missing, until I hear a chuckle. Swirling around, I find him holding *my* bra. Oops …*how* did my bra get on the *balcony*? "I must have thrown it farther than I thought." He said, tossing it back at me.

I take it, fastening it as I find my jeans. "Thanks." We are a couple of little words, at least at the moment, that is. It's amazing how having sex with a man changes everything. After all, there may be some things better than sex, and there may be some things worse, but there's nothing exactly like it.

We continue to find our clothes, pulling them on in silence. When we are both finally dressed, both of us in designer muggle clothes, I might add, we finally catch each other's eyes. His eyes are a bright emerald almost glowing with a passion I have never before witnessed. I gulp at being caught beneath such a gaze. "What's going to happen with us?" He voices both of our concerns. It's truly amazing how one night can change two entire lives.

"Well, you *are* getting married." I stated matter-of-factly. Does he realise how his gaze makes me melt?

"Right." He has the decency to blush. He better. If *I* was his fiancé, I would tear his head out if I knew he just slept with another woman. Of course, it would solve all our problems if I *was* his fiancé, but I am *not* Ariana de Forá. Unfortunately.

"I should go." I mutter. This silence and discomfort between us is ridiculous. We've known each other for the last eleven years. Amazing how one event can change a relationship.

"I- I'll walk you out." Let's just thank God no one else is home. I *would* have apparate, but he has so many damn wards around his house. You can't even floo in. And good luck trying to get in as an Animagus, his wards would reveal you immediately. I leave the bedroom, not even caring that he is following behind me.

Now I think of it, the entire story probably starts at the end of our Fourth Year. He was just so *sad* then. Not really *sad* , more liked depressed. One of his main faults is that he believes every awful thing in the world is his fault. Something which is ridiculous. But *you* try convincing him otherwise. I did, and believe me, it isn't easy.

I kissed his cheek after we left the train, an impulse of a caring fifteen year-old girl who wasn't sure what the weird feelings going through her head were. The entire summer was anguish, let me tell you. There were so many conflicting thoughts in my head and it didn't help that my other best friend was being an arse. It wasn't until Christmas when I finally admitted my feelings, but there was no way in *hell* I was going to tell him.

"Hermi?" He spoke again, waving his hand in my face. His brows were scrunched with worry. "Are you all right?"

"Yes." I realised I had reached the front door. "I'll be going now."

***

At home I crawled into a nice bath. Roses with vanilla. Candles. Dimmed lights. Sparkling water. Classical Music. Chocolate. All comfort things of mine. And believe me, I needed that comfort. It's amazing what the body subjects itself to. In the time period of perhaps fifteen hours I managed to eat dinner with my best-friend, get drunk, kiss him and end up having sex with him, wake up and leave him.

Leaving him. That's exactly was what I needed to think about as I relaxed, part of the reason I had so much tension. Harry's been my best friend for years. Ever since he and Ron rescued me from the troll in our first year. Of course, if Ron hadn't been an arse and said such a thing in the first place, I wouldn't have needed rescuing. But of course, when one thinks about it, it *was* a good thing. Though at the time seeing a troll in the bathroom when all you want to do is be alone and have a good cry *is* terrifying.

During my sixth and seventh Years, I watched Harry date other people. He never lasted long with them. I was singing in side. Lavender, Paravati, Alexia, a stuck-up Slytherin in our year, Mandy, the names went on. I was *tired* of watching Harry going through girls. Which is probably why I made the stupidest decision in my life. I started to date Ron.

I'm not even going to go into Ron, except that he had his own reputation. While Harry went through the girls in our Year and a few from the Year above and behind, Ron went through *every* girl. Only the Third Years and below were safe. The paintings and ghosts whispered behind their hands that the last person who had dated every single girl in Hogwarts was the infamous Sirius `Padfoot' Black.

There were two things my mother told me as a child. Well, I was turning sixteen, about to visit Viktor Krum before my Fifth Year, so I wasn't really a child. But the fact is she sat me down and told me two things. First, don't give myself to someone I don't really care about, even if I *am* caught up in the moment. Chastity is something to be cherished. And second? Don't get caught by a Player.

At the time, the advice didn't help much. Viktor had a girlfriend, a Bulgarian neighbour, who could have passed as a model. But it could have helped me when Ron asked me to go out with him. My best-friend, who unfortunately was the very Player my mother was talking about. And I didn't catch it. There went three months of my life and my virginity down the drain.

Don't get me wrong. I *enjoyed* dating Ron for the most part. He was my first steady boy-friend and our arguing cut down a lot. Of course, it was because I was trying to be more submissive. I somehow got it in my head that guys wanted women who were submissive. And therefore I changed myself for a boy. Until I found Ron sleeping with someone else.

To make things quick, let's just say I dumped his sorry arse, slapped him as hard as I could and hexed him. Harry did a fair job as well, sticking up for `his best friend who isn't a two-timing bastard'.

I think part of the reason I left shortly after I finished Hogwarts was because of my `fling' with Ron. And because though Harry had defended me, he had defended me as a *friend*, nothing more. I was convinced he could never love me like a woman, not like a sister.

At the time, I was convinced my decision was right. I came back for short visits, usually just visiting for a few hours. Apparating was easy for me, impossible for my friends, because I wasn't disclosing my location, threatening to go as far as a Secret Keeper if they persisted to find me. I needed the time alone, to think for myself, to grow up and brace the world. I did and the few visits I had where just what I needed to be sure that my decision was right.

I was wrong. I gripped the sponge, scrubbing my skin praying that the last five years would come off. They didn't. I was stuck with my fate. Amazing how you can fuck up so quickly. And though I had to admit sleeping with Harry *was* a pleasurable experience, the guilt definitely over-powered it. Let it be said I do *not* like Ariana de Forá, but it still was unfair of me to sleep with her fiancé. Even though she doesn't deserve him.

I finally convinced myself to get out of my bath. I had soaked long enough, and the lure of breakfast was starting to come into my field of vision. It didn't matter that it was already noon.

I pulled on my dressing gown, a chenille bathrobe I got in America. It was expensive there, but it's warm and cosy and I don't give a damn how it looks. Everyone deserves a bit of comfort. I remembered a bit of wisdom from a friend, Andrea, in America. "I never loved another person the way I loved myself". Good advice, I have to admit. Why not be a bit selfish at times? And now was a time I could use a bit of pampering.

Until my phone rang.

***

Okay, finished. Well, with the *first* part that is. I’m working on the second part, so don’t worry. It’s coming. I hope that you all liked it, and so I know, I’d be honoured if you’d leave a review. With that said, I think I’ll leave you there. I don’t really have any comments or explanations.

-Myra, 2/23/03

2. Chapter 2: Telephones

Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter. However, Andrea, Marissa, Dana and Fluffy…er *my* Fluffy are mine.

I’d like to thank everyone for the reviews. They were wonderful. Umm about Ariana…she *will* be a part of this story. Just remember that the story is in Hermione’s POV and Ariana will show up when Hermi sees her.

Another note: Swirling Colours is my priority. This story and “Torn Between Worlds” are only secondary, which means they get updated wither when I’m in the mood, or when I can’t work on Swirling Colours. So be patient with chapters. And now I think I’ll let you read the chapter.

***

Chapter 2: Telephones

***

I *hate* telephones. That doesn't stop me from having one. Actually, I have two. A cell phone and a regular one. I protested and protested against my cell, but no luck. Cindy may be a wonderful friend, but she's also my boss and what she says goes.

The phone rang again. I *really* felt like killing it now. My phone is one of those phones that you can take around the house. At times I must admit it *is* handy. Then there are times when I can't find it and I want to scream. This was one of the latter.

The phone rang again. That's when I remembered I left it in the kitchen. My kitchen, which happens to be a mess. My kitchen where I can barely step into it. My kitchen where my phone is.

The phone rang again. I decided to ignore the mess in my kitchen and leaped over the box in the doorway, lunging for the phone. I managed to reach it as it rang again. Damn phone. "Hello?"

"You will not *believe* what happened the other day. Marissa is *so* stupid. You know that huge dog of hers? Fluffy? I mean, why would she name a hundred pond dog that's almost as tall as *I* am Fluffy? And she keeps on obsessing on calling it not *it*. `Fluffy's not an *It*, Andi, Fluffy's a *she*.' Dogs are dogs. Who cares if it's an `it' or not? *Anyway*, somehow it got out. No idea how, she lives on the Fifth Story in the Penthouse Apartment, but somehow it gout out of the building, just as the Doorman noticed it left.

"And oh my God, he calls her on the phone and tells her, `Miss, your dog just escaped'. He didn't even go *running* after it! And then Marissa screams at him to catch him and she runs down the stairs, all *five* stories, and runs out the building into the streets of New York at ten-thirty in the morning when *everyone* is out, in her *pyjamas*!

"She's wearing her silk flowered pants that cost about a hundred bucks, but like she *cares*, I mean Marissa is *rich*, but honestly. And then she has the top on as well, but it wasn't buttoned, just open and she has her bra underneath, but thank-god it wasn't one of those lacy, silky ones she likes to get at Victoria Secrets, just something from Gap, a plain white cotton piece.

"Well, she doesn't have any shoes on and people are already wondering why a huge white dog is running around on the streets and *then* comes a crazy woman not even dressed yelling `Fluffy! Fluffy, come back! Momma's here!' God, it was *hilarious*!

"Eventually Marissa *does* catch Fluffy, but not until two hours later, when they've run through about half of New York. And it was even on the *news*! At six. And it was in the newspaper too! And get this, some movie director was filming a movie and he wants this scene in it. Marissa's already signed the contract. It is *so* unfair."

Andrea. I don't really know how to describe Andrea, actually. She's very nice, but at the same time headstrong. She can get really hyper. And she's very independent and doesn't care a thing what you think of her and says what's on her mind and *everything*. But she *is* a great friend.

We met at college. I've been to college all over in the US, and so has she. Actually, it was Andrea's idea. We were dorm-mates at Stanford, doing well in classes, the top, actually, and then Andrea burst out one day, `let's switch'. That's Andrea. Totally unpredictable. We never finished a Semester in one place, but still managed to graduate with honours. Two years early.

I trust her with everything, but even I was hesitating about telling her what I had done last night. Andrea had never met Harry. She had heard me tells loads about him, but I was afraid that she‘d hate him anyway. And don‘t get me wrong, I do *not* hate Harry. I’m a bit put off with him, for getting engaged, but since he had no idea how I felt, there was really nothing I could do. It wasn’t his fault. And last night…well, let’s just say it takes *two*.

"Hi Andi." I tried to make my voice sound strong, but I *couldn't*. Sleeping with Harry, getting drunk, our parting, the fact I didn't get much sleep, Ariana, a bit of homesickness and mix them altogether, stir and viola! You have one really screwed up day. And a migraine.

"So, how's it going in sunny old England? Can't believe you decided to leave us, Dana didn't stop crying for a week." Andrea stopped. I shook my head. Dana is a wonderful friend, but she can get very emotional on you. Crying over my departure sounded just like something I would expect from her.

"I've only been *gone* for a week, Andi." I point out, rummaging around in my drawers for aspirin. I usually *am* an organised person, but after being in a new apartment for a week, meeting old friends and family and finding your *love* is engaged to another woman, being organised doesn't seem very important anymore. Actually, nothing really seems important anymore, but anyway…

"I know, I know. But we *do* miss you." I could almost *see* Andi shaking her hand, something she does to wave off a problem. Now I think of it, Andi was probably wearing her jeans *full* of holes with some kind of ridiculous tights underneath and an oversized sweatshirt. Andrea dresses like she wants to and never lets *anyone* tell her what to wear. I have to admit I admire her for that. Though it *can* be horrifying. Like the time Marissa invited us to her parents’ Multi-Millionaire Benefit party that was Black Tie. Andrea decided to turn up in a bright purple with white polka dots, sleeveless, knee-length, puffy-skirt dress with clunky purple sandals. Marissa, Dana and I were horrified, and Mrs Sinclair almost kicked Andrea out. Though it was pretty funny. "New York isn't the same without you."

I doubted her statement. New York is New York. I hadn’t lived there very long, but I liked it a lot. What can I say? It’s a great city, with tons of people and attractions. 99% of New York probably had no idea who I even was, not least care if I left.

And then I made one of the worst mistakes in my life. *Almost* as bad as sleeping with Harry. "Well, why don't you come to visit some time. You can *all* come. I have a big apartment." I replied, hoping to cool nerves. Perhaps Dana would take my absence better, and I admit to wanting to get together with them again. They’re a cool group.

"Great, Herms. Cool. I'll tell the girls." A beeping sound was heard over the phone, meaning Andrea was calling Marissa and Dana. Soon she came back. "Wow Herms, thanks a lot. They're really excited, especially Dana. Got to go, our plane leaves in three hours. See you in a few." And before I could say anything, Andrea hung up.

I stared at the phone, the implications of Andi‘s words setting in. Andrea, Dana, Marissa, they were all coming to visit me. And not in a few weeks, but as in *now*. I had forgotten how Andi took everything literally and did things as soon as possible. *She* was no procrastinator.

Not to say I usually was. But at the moment, I began to think over the current situation in my apartment. I may have had normally room, but right now the only two rooms that were free are my Master Bathroom and bedroom.

And then almost on cue, my eyes flew to my refrigerator where a note written on pink flowery stationary read: `Meet Ginny at Delilah's at three.' It was two thirty and I was dressed in a bathrobe with nothing underneath.

***

“Hey Herms!” A young woman, dressed casually in jeans and a light blue button down shirt, her light brown with golden highlighted hair tied back with a ribbon, approached. “I’ve been looking all *over* for you.”

She sat down at the table, where I was reading a book. I looked up, slightly annoyed for being interrupted, but changed my opinion as I saw Marissa. “What is it, Marissa?” I put my marker in her book. I wondered what Marissa wanted. “Anything important?” I searched Marissa’s eyes for signs of trouble. “I hope Andrea didn’t do anything to Mrs Wilson.” Mrs Wilson was our very strict English Literature Professor, who did *not* get along with Andrea, and vice versa.

“No, not really. And for Mrs Wilson, I don’t think so. It’s just that my parents are throwing a Benefit Party for the new Wing of the Hospital and I’m allowed to invite the three of you.” Marissa pulled out a cream coloured envelope. “Here. It’s on Saturday in two weeks. You don’t have to bring a date, though it’s suggested. Black Tie and everything, so you know.” She stood up. “I have to tell Randy. I’m sure his parents already got their invitation, but I need to coordinate what we’re wearing and when to arrive.”

I smiled. I guess I‘d have to find a date. But one matter stood out, a matter in which I could tease my friend. “Sure.” She raised her eyebrows. “Coordinate what you’re wearing? If it’s black tie, isn’t it kind of given what he’s to wear?”

Marissa blushed. “Oh, you know, what *style* of dress. I have a dress fitting this afternoon for the dress. We’re thinking Burgundy, chiffon, sleeveless and strapless with a bit of a train. But who knows. And Mother wants to reserve her for the wedding dress and bridesmaid dresses. Of course, we’re marrying in about *three* years, but that’s my mother for you.” She smiled. “Look, got to go. See you around. Call me?” And she left.

She was *used* to going to ‘Black Tie’ events. Marissa Sinclair was nineteen, smart, athletic and rich. Her family had ‘old’ money and her father was a doctor. Marissa didn’t let any of it go to her head. She was as level headed as Hermione in situations, unless it involved her pet dog Fluffy. And Rissa, as she was called, never minded stepping in to help.

I read the invitation, stuck it into her pocket, and kept reading. Nothing could keep me away from a good book, even a fancy invitation. But I had to admit, the party sounded interesting and she couldn’t wait to see Marissa’s dress. Of course that meant finding her own…

&&&

The night of the dinner had arrived. I took a friend, Michael to the Dinner and Dana had also found a date. We stood together with Marissa and Randy by the staircase, a sweeping monstrosity that looked like it could have come out of “Gone With The Wind”. And the fact that Andi wasn’t there should have given us a signal that something wasn’t right…

“Have you seen Andi?” Marissa suddenly spoke up, as the butler ushered the last guest in. “The invitation clearly read seven o’clock.”

“It’s Andi, Rissa. She’s *always* late.” Randy added, putting his arms around his fiancé. They had been engaged for over a year, on Marissa’s eighteenth birthday, but wanted to wait until they were both finished with College to marry.

“I know, honey, but I’m worried. And- did anyone explain to her what Black-Tie meant?” Marissa suddenly took a deep breath.

I was the one who answered next. Me and my big mouth. “Of course. She said she wanted to go shopping to find the perfect dress. I offered to go with her, but she said she wanted to shop alone.” Seeing Marissa open her mouth, I rushed to finish. “But I’m sure she bought something appropriate. Andi isn’t stupid. She’ll find something perfect.

I spoke to soon, was my thought as the doors suddenly opened as Andrea stepped in, wearing the most ridiculous dress in existence. It was purple and polka-dotted and puffy. Her high-heeled purple sandals completed the outfit. Looking towards my friends, Dana tried to hold in laughter, Marissa looked horrified and Randy looked aghast. Michael was shaking his head, and Dave, Dana’s date, just had a small smile on his lips.

I think the most surprised person was Mrs Sinclair, though. Her face had gone white, and then suddenly red. It didn’t match her black ball-gown, though. “Andrea Markman! How-how *dare* you enter this house in such a dress!”

Andrea stared at her. “I’m sorry, Mrs Sinclair. But I thought you would *like* this dress.” We watched Mrs Sinclair’s face go redder. Marissa noticed and hurried over, mumbling ‘damage control’.

“Mother, I’m sure I can find something more *suitable* for Andrea. I’m sure she’s very sorry about the dress…right?” Her last statement was directed to Andrea who played on it well.

“Of course, Mrs Sinclair. Obviously we have different fashion sense…but I’d be glad to change.” Andrea put the most apologising expression on her face possible, convincing Mrs Sinclair of her sincere ness.

The Diner went with out incident, Andrea now wearing a black dress. But I think the night stayed in our memories forever. And I know Andrea still has that dress, just waiting for the right occasion.

***

All right. Another chapter done. You know, I’d still like a beta… Anyway, I found a few things to address in this chapter.

First, Andrea and the girls visiting. Er…that was totally unplanned. Honestly, I just wrote it and I can’t get rid of it. But I’ll just play on it. So if any of you are worried that I’m adding in OCs, don’t worry about it. They won’t be that big of a thing.

The italics were a flash back. I wanted some way to lengthen the chapter and to put in some of what Hermione went through while she was away. Thus, the Flashback. It’s not as in depth as the story because it’s just a memory, not actually happening.

And I’m not sure if anyone noticed, but there weren’t any quotes this chapter. I wanted to try and write every chapter with quotes, but none fit in this chapter. I promise that there will be lots of quotes with Ginny, though. Our dear Hermi is going to learn that Ginny is a *lot* more than she seems.

So, with everything said, I’ll leave you here, with a polite request for reviews.

-Myra 3/6/03

3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Ain’t mine. Ariana is mine. Dana, Marissa, Andrea, Alexandrè. Marie are mine. Any other OCs? Mine. It’s three in the morning…can’t write anything else.

AN: See bottom.

***

Chapter 3: The Dangers of Meeting Ginny

***

I sat at the patio table, waiting for Ginny. When I had made the date, I hadn’t even known that Harry was engaged. Hell, I hadn’t even *seen* him yet. I had just arrived and Ginny picked me up. ‘Let’s get together, Herm. Next week okay?’ Of course it was, I had retorted and she dropped me off by my apartment. But as I was sitting at the Café, there were more things on my mind than meeting Ginny and catching up.

There are some things I hate about Ginny Weasley. Excuse me, I mean *Malfoy*. Don't get me wrong, Ginny *is* one of my best friends. We started sticking together the summer before my fourth year, with the Quidditch Cup and everything. Then we started talking at school and we spent our summers together. What can I say, except that growing up in a family of boys *should* have made Ginny a tomboy. But in Ginny's case, it made her more feminine. It also gave her a sense of independence.

Of course, the main thoughts in my head when Ginny sat down across from me were the ones over my weekend *sleepover* with my best friend. My *engaged* best friend. I think that if I keep on repeating those sentences, I'll eventually see some sense. "Hi, Hermi." Was what brought me out of my thoughts.

Ginny was wearing designer muggle jeans with beads up the legs and a sweater I remember seeing in a Vogue magazine that cost about one hundred fifty pounds. Her ankle boots were also from some designer and now I think of it, it *might* have been Armani. Don't quote me on that though. Dressed in Gap, I was feeling a bit over-shadowed.

That's the thing about Ginny. She can make the most beautiful woman feel like nothing. It isn't that she's stunningly beautiful, but she just *holds* herself so. She modelled a bit out of Hogwarts, but not for long. She designed some muggle and wizarding fashions, sold in the store named after her 'Virginia's'. But what she really does is writes. She's a columnist for Witches Weekly, which has changed a lot from my fourth year. Of course it *would* after Draco Malfoy bought it.

As the story goes, Ginny Weasley started dating Draco Malfoy in his sixth year and he proposed in his Seventh. Of course at Hogwarts, you can't get married, but they both knew they were going to wait. Draco started modelling after his Seventh Year, started 'Virginia's', even though Virginia isn't Ginny's full name and bought Witches Weekly. Just to show her he had a job and could support her. Ginny finished Hogwarts, started modelling herself, quit after a year, started writing and they married. The wedding for Galleonaires it was called in the Daily Prophet. Gloria Hendricks, *the* Wizarding Designer was Ginny's personal wedding planner.

Anyway, two years later, Marriage and Motherhood wasn't hurting Mrs Malfoy any. Ginny looked even more radiant. Which was another thing to kill her for. Ginny had a one year-old at home and was four months pregnant. But did she look pregnant? No. Ginny looked exactly like she did when she was an eighteen year-old Model fresh out of Hogwarts. And being a good friend, I *know* she hadn't gained any weight from either pregnancies. Weight that stayed, that is. Did I mention how I want to kill her? "Hi, Gin. Glad you could make it."

She waved a manicured hand, sweeping a strand of perfectly curled hair behind her ear. Not that she needed to. The mass of her perfect shoulder-length curls was up in a bun, the few tendrils hanging down for show. Her perfect complexion smiled at me, showing bright red lips and perfect white teeth. How I *hate* how perfect she is. "No problèmo. For you? Come, it's not like my editor can *fire* me. And I was glad to get away. There's only so much time I can spend with Alexandrè." Alexandrè being Ginny's one year-old son. Actually more like sixteen months, but I'm not sure.

"Yes, well, there are a few things I wanted to talk about-" I start. I shouldn't be nervous around my best friend, but I am. I mean, how easy do *you* think it is to confess you've just slept with an engaged man? Especially one of your best friends. I swear Fate loves toying with us. That is, if I believed in Fate.

"You slept with Harry." Ginny cuts off my sentence matter-of-factly. Her Frappachino in her left hand, she does *something* with her wrist, pointing her finger at me. "It's all in your expression, dahling." She calls the waiter over and asks for two Mai Thais. On the rocks or something. To say I rarely drink is an understatement. Actually I'm not really sure what a Mai Thai is; now I think about it.

But since Ginny Malfoy obviously does, I allow her to decide. "Yes, well, you're right. I *did* sort of-" There is nothing you can hide from Ginny Malfoy. I think she must have inherited it from her mother. She can just *look* at you and you spill your secrets. Which is one of the reasons she's the only person in the *world* who knows about my crush on Harry. Or maybe it's a bit *more* than a crush…

"You can't 'sort-of' sleep with a guy, Herms. You just *do*. And is 'Yes, well' your new fav expression?" Ginny has a way with words. Basically she speaks `cool, rich, sophisticated' talk. `Dahling', `fav' and other words that pop up are examples. And I have the *hardest* time understanding her sometimes. But don't mind me, because Ginny started to speak. "Actually, it' a good thing you did. Now you can for sure if you actually *like* Harry."

I stare at her in shock. "Gin, did you hear me correctly? I *slept*, in other words, had *sex* with an engaged man. He's getting married in what, a month? And I had *sex* with him." Now I must say I know Ginny very well. But even *I* was shocked with her answer. And to the question if I *liked* Harry, well, I *had* been secretly in love with him for the last seven years.

Ginny waved a hand. "I heard, I heard. I just don't see what the big deal was. Do you think Draco and I haven't slept with other people? Even *during* our marriage?" I was very glad that I hadn't drunk anything otherwise Mrs Malfoy would be wearing it.

"You- you've had an *affair*?" I squeaked out incredulously. Ginny and Draco have been together for six years. They're what I would say are a happy couple. Amazing what happens to your ideals when given a chance.

"Not an *affair*, Herms. I've slept with other people. That's not an affair. An affair is when you're in love with someone else. Draco and I do it just for the sex." I think my mouth dropped even lower.

"But- doesn't that bother you when Draco sleeps with another woman?" I managed to get out. What an interesting lunch we're having. Ginny confesses to me that she and Draco are sleeping with other people and still married and I confess I've slept with Harry. I pity the people sitting near us.

Ginny shrugs and takes her Mai Thai, swallowing it in a gulp. "No. And it doesn't bother him when I sleep with other people." Her mouth frowned at me. "Herms, you have *such* a virginal mind. Draco and I *love* each other. We sleep together as well, have a son, who *is* Draco's child and are very happy together. But life gets boring. I admit our first year together was just us two. But after that, well, why not experiment? It brings fun into life. As long as your partners know that this is no lasting thing, only for the sex, then it's fine." She shrugged, digging into her purse.

"So you're saying that you guys don't care. Are your *partners* married too? Or just you?" I ask, trying to fathom the depths of Ginny's mind.

"Oh, sometimes yes, sometimes no. It doesn't matter to me. The guy has to be attractive, have no STDs and willing *not* to fall in love with me. Then it's time for fun." Ginny sighed, pulling out a cell phone. "After all, stolen sweets are the best."

"*What*?” I squawk out. “Did you-" I can't even finish the sentence before Ginny waves her hand at me, telling me to quiet down as she dials a number.

"Oh, hello, Marie. How is- wonderful. Yes, I *am* expecting a call from Marcus. I know. Yes, yes. Bye." She closed the phone. Though most wizards don't have phones, a few do. Ginny has one because it makes her life easier, or so she says. I personally have tried many times to destroy the damn thing. Unfortunately I put a spell on the phone to *prevent* me from doing such acts. "Alexandrè is asleep. Children. Wonderful things but tiring. Thank goodness Marie is there." Marie is the Malfoys' Au Pair, a French woman who takes care of Alexandrè so Ginny and Draco never have to lift a finger.

I bit back my tongue from making a comment about the trouble of having children when you never do anything with them. "Who's Marcus?" I change the topic. Our earlier conversation on sex wore me out. I think I'll just move to Timbuktu so I don't have to see Harry again. It'll definitely save me some embarrassment.

"My Agent." Ginny had an Agent when she was doing modelling, but she hasn't done that in years.

"You're starting modelling again?" I still find it hard to believe. Not that she couldn't. She still looks the same as she did. I just figured she wouldn't want the life anymore, having settled down with Draco and having a family.

"No. I'm *acting*. Did you ever read the `Astronomy Tower Secrets'? It's a book series about Jessalyn and Roberto, two Seventh Years in love who are pulled apart by their families. Jessalyn gets pregnant, they get married, the kid is kidnapped, it turns out the kid might not have been Roberto’s after all, Roberto kills the alleged father who is his best-friend and cousin, but then it turns out that he *isn’t* the father and he tries to kill himself, but is stopped by Jessalyn who says she doesn’t care. They live happily ever after, that is, until the next book.”

My eyes widened. I remembered Lavender reading books like that, but I really didn’t pay much attention to it. Personally, I thought the book was trash and was about to change my opinion of book banning and burning. “Er…interesting.” I searched for intelligent thoughts. There were none. It seemed that sleeping with your engaged best friend also killed brain cells.

Ginny didn’t notice. “Yes, it *should* be a good film. We’re actually almost done with it. The Premiere is in a few weeks. You’re invited of course. I assume you’ll be receiving a formal invitation in a few days.” She picked up her purse, rummaging around for a muggle fingernail filer. I had once asked Ginny why she used the muggle method. In return, she had retorted that the muggle way was much more delicate for her nails. There are times where Ginny can be just as air-headed as Lavender Brown-er Finnegan or Paravati Patil.

I started to watch the people around us. They were, for the most part, young people in business clothes or nice casual wear like Ginny was wearing. Then again, Ginny had decided on the restaurant and I *knew* what her tastes were like. I turned back to Ginny when I realised she was talking to me again.

“-And you really shouldn’t make such a fuss about it, Herms. I mean, is it really going to happen again?” Oh. She was talking about Harry and me again. I tore myself away from my thoughts and tried to answer her question.

“No. Of course not.” I hoped I sounded surer than I was.

“You’re not sure.” Damn it. I forgot Ginny’s amazing talent for seeing the truth and hesitancy. She told me once she had picked it up from her mother. ‘Living in a house with six brothers, where two of them are pranksters? Hell, that’s a survival measure.’ I believed her.

My short romance with Ron proved to me that if I had started picking up on the hints a lot earlier, I could have dumped him easier. Unfortunately, I hadn’t.

“No. I’m not certain, Ginny.” There was no point in lying. “There’s no way in Hell that I can be certain that I will never sleep with him again.” My voice began rising as I got more into my words. “Damn it, Ginny, I didn’t expect to sleep with him! We just wanted to talk, that’s all, and Ariana wasn’t there…and we started to drink and one thing led to another…fuck it all! I didn’t *want* to sleep with Harry, I can never face him again after this, I-” I couldn’t hold back my tears anymore.

They were tears of defeat and of mourning. I had finally lost my best friend. The best friend who had sworn he would always stay by me forever, the best friend I had loved for so many years. And he was forever gone, out of my reach. From now on, I would see him always with his beautiful thing of a wife, always holding hands and whispering things in her ear, stealing short kisses, doing everything I had always wanted…from him…

“Hermione Anemone Granger! Honestly, don’t be so silly. All you did was sleep with Harry. Once. And Ariana isn’t going to find out about it, so sush.” Ginny shook her head as if she were scolding me. Too bad she didn’t use her parenting skills on her own son.

“But he’s my best friend! I can’t just pretend this never happened? For God’s sake, I’ve been in love with him for the last seven years or so! I won’t be able to look at him in the face again!” I wailed on. I couldn’t help myself. I was an investigative reporter for the New York Times and I was acting like a two year-old. Perhaps I’d have to start setting play dates for Alexandrè and me.

“So? Talk to him, Herms. Just go up to him and talk. You need to get this settled.” Ginny played around with her drink a bit more. “Tell me…how was he?”

My eyes widened. “You-you has never slept with him?”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Herms, how long have Draco and I been together?”

I thought for a second…somewhere in our sixth year was when I learned of it… “Six years?”

“Right. And when did I get together with him? How old was I?” She was walking me through this as if I was a tiny child. I felt ridiculous.

“Fifteen.”

“Good girl. And do you think I was sleeping with anyone at fifteen or younger?”

“Yes.” Which was true. Ginny had gotten a reputation much like her brothers’, except that she was untouchable, once it was clear that she and Draco were together. Draco would have never have allowed anything else.

Ginny shook her head and sighed. “Oh Herms…no! Draco was my first. And it wasn’t until my Seventh Year, when you guys were gone that I started sleeping ‘around’ as you call it, when Draco wasn’t there. And then he confessed to me that he was doing the same…you know, no love, only sex. But for God’s sake, Herms. I have never slept with Harry.”

“Oh.” I was feeling pretty stupid. That was it. Sleeping with your best friend definitely reduces brain activity and cells. It’s just like drinking that Neutra-Sweet, I figured. Andrea had started raving about the dangers of Neutra-Sweet once, when we had first met. It was one of the things that convinced me her head wasn’t on straight. Not that I’d have it any other way, though…

“Yes. Now, Herms. Repeat after me: ‘I never wanted your heart - that gone, you have nothing more to give‘. Got it?”

I stared at her. “And that should help me-*how*?”

She shook her head again. “If you ever feel the urge to sleep with him, repeat that, *out loud* to him. It shows him that you only want his body, not his love.”

Didn’t she understand it? I *wanted* his love. Hell, that was my problem. I wasn’t in *love* with him. “But I *am* in love with him. I *want* his heart, so to speak.”

Ginny called the waiter over and then ordered a Scotch. “I’m going to need it." She muttered as she downed it in one gulp. “Hermione, you’re missing the point. Saying something like that *totally* turned guys off. That is, guys who want to be loved.” She clarified.

“But Harry’s already *got* a girl friend. Why would he want to be loved by me? Wouldn’t that just make him okay with sleeping with me? You know, a ‘no strings attached’ deal?” There were just some things I did not understand about Ginny Malfoy. And this was one of them.

“No! Heaven’s sake, Hermione. Look. If you’re telling a guy that you could care less about his feelings and all you want is his body, but you don’t even want that, because the only good thing about him, his heart, is gone, then he’s not going to want to sleep with you. And I don’t ever remember hearing Harry say he’s in love with Ariana.”

“But he’s *engaged*.” I pointed out what I believed to be the most blatant fact. Apparently Ginny was of another opinion.

“Oh come on, you know there are *tons* of girls who seduce their boy friends into proposing. I mean, Harry’s drop dead handsome, rich and famous. Who *wouldn’t* want a piece of him? And it doesn’t help that Harry thinks he’s in love with her. Perfect acting time.” Ginny wiped her mouth delicately on a napkin. I still couldn’t understand how she could be so calm.

“But-Ariana seems perfectly fine to me. I don’t necessarily *like* her, but that’s me. I’m sure-”

Ginny cut me off, shaking her head. “Trust your instincts, Herm. I’m an actress. I know how to act and when it’s being done. And if you ever want a chance at Harry, then you have to seduce him.” Her blue eyes were getting intensely bright. It scared me, I had to admit. I had never seen Ginny so animated.

“Se-*Seduce* him?” I managed to squeak out. I was the know-it-all, bookworm, bushy-headed, nose-in-a-book, etcetera, etcetera best friend. Not *girl* friend, but *best* friend. Not *fiancé*, nor wife. Just best friend. That’s all I ever was to Harry. And now, Ginny, my other best friend, wanted me to *seduce* him? “I can’t possibly-”

“Herms, shut up.” I shut up. “Let me think…yes. All right. Hermione Anemone Granger, are you in love with Harry James Potter?” Ginny watched me under her intense gaze, like a lioness watching a zebra.

“I-I think so, yes.” I liked my lips hesitantly.

“Positive?”

“Yes.” My voice grew stronger.

“Then repeat after me. ‘I will succeed in seducing my best friend Harry James Potter because I feel that Ariana de la Torà is the worse possible match for him and he deserves better than that celebrity-searching, gold-digging slut‘.” I should have known that I was digging myself into a hole. After all, Andrea had pulled the same thing on me this morning, asking me questions when my mind was clearly elsewhere. But I could be a gullible person when distracted and wasn’t paying attention to the Danger Signs. I repeated the sentence.

“Excellent, Herms.” Ginny clapped her hands. Danger signal number one: signs of overly-happiness. “Now we have to go shopping.” Danger signal number two: mention of shopping. “And let me hook up with a few friends I know from the business.” Danger signal number three: hooking up with friends. “And remember-” Danger Signal number four: the word ‘remember’. Something always follows that should be treated with immense caution. “-Nothing risqué, nothing gained.” Entering target zone, torpedoes have been fired. No turning around, stand in dead centre of target. Because my life has just been *totally* turned around.

Good-bye Miss Hermione Anemone know-it-all-nose-in-book-Head-Girl-best-student-bushy-haired Granger.

Meet Miss Hermione Anemone sophisticated-gorgeous-what’s-a-book-I’m-late-for-my-Pedicure Granger. For that’s what Ginny was going to turn me into.

Oh Lord.

****

Okay, so I took a while getting this out. So sue me…er please don’t actually. Anyway, I warned you guys that this is only a sidepiece. Therefore, I hope you liked this chapter. It’s three a.m. and I just finished it…be nice. I’m dead tired. And count the quotes…I think there may be four. Or only three…I’m not sure. In any case, there are a few.

So, any questions? Write ‘em in your reviews. Hope you liked my view of Ginny. Oh yeah, I know that there aren’t movies in the wizarding world. The explanation will come at a later chapter.

Next chapter: No idea. I suspect Andrea Dana and Marissa will be making an appearance and more Ginny and Hermi interaction. And if you’re *really* nice and give me lots and lots of reviews, I’ll see about sticking Harry in the next chapter…

-Miranda 4.5.03