Unofficial Portkey Archive

Life and Times

Rating: R

Ship: HHr (main emphasis)

The (unlovely) procedure: all rights go to JKR for previous plot and characters, Scholastic, Warner, and whoever else has their hands in HP.

When Envy breeds unkind division: there comes the ruin, there begins the confusion - Shakespeare

***

Chapter Fifty-Three - Envy

***

I knew it was them.

Upstairs, in the bloody bedroom.

They were doing it on purpose, because of me.

"Where are you going?" said Cho in a very cautionary tone. I was sure she saw how white my knuckles were as I gripped the armrest of the sofa. Or, maybe it was the way I hadn't moved in an hour, staring blankly as I heard the duo knocking around; knocking around in my head. My jaw set affixed, my teeth gnashed together.

All of that, however, left my body when I lifted. Ghostly, by light-step, I sluggishly maneuvered those stairs. Up and up, I swayed, or my world swayed. I couldn't tell the difference. All I knew was that the walls of the vastly long corridor I walked became my best friend. I'd fall into them drunkenly. I stumbled more times than I wanted, hurriedly, in slow-motion, to reach for the wand stuck in my flaming-red hair. Once loosened, the strands of my hair cascaded as quickly as the tears which fell from the pits of my eyes.

I wrought in pain.

The corridor was dark, growing darker each passing second.

My face twisted, in agony.

I could hear them.

His laugh.

Her giggle.

Their…moans…

The door was open, and of course it was, his blatant defiance, disrespectful of my disclosed feelings.

But… I'd have the last laugh.

The knife had twisted far enough in my back.

I could bear it no longer.

I needed sweet release.

Gradually I turned, into a blazing light and sound. A lit and warm fireplace. A sickeningly sweet smell of pumpkin pie, of vanilla, of my vanilla, mixing in with an aroma from the rose petals on the floor, on the bed-where I locked eyes with him.

I met him in his precarious position atop her with a wry smile.

I could sense the very fibre of fear from him. He knew what would happen.

And, he should be scared…for my wand pointed directly at his head.

I almost ran into hysterics, really.

I relished when he began to scramble-what could he do?

Green light drowned out the ungodly colour from the hearth.

Blood combined with those forbidden rose petals.

And with that sickly smell came a sudden whiff of iron.

I heard Hermione scream.

My eyes settled on the blood that had, unfortunately, splattered on my clothes from across the room.

"Oops," I said in a sneer. I shrugged at the wide-eyed Hermione in a state of flee. "Guess I don't know my own strength."

I gasped to wake, shooting straight upon my bum on the sofa I'd laid on. The quilt, the blankets on my form fell to my lap, and I swore I couldn't find breath. In near-darkness I peered, looking left, right, and sideways. I put my hands anywhere, trying to find those wet spots of blood and finding nothing but the quick pace of a beating heart. I took a deep breath, my hand over my heart and swore under my breath. I knew after that profound minute I hadn't done any of what I witnessed in that vivid dream.

Dream.

I dropped backward, knowing where the pull-string to the lamp was above my head and clicked it on. The living space now illuminated, I found myself staring at my own shaking hand. Each digit had a mind of its own. I tried balling my fist and relaxing, but struggled to control the nerves.

I need a bloody smoke.

Reaching back behind me I took hold of the pack of fags I left on the stand after having a pre-sleep puff yesterday. It fell aimlessly out of my anxious hands, a single cigarette falling from the case. Swiftly, I'd taken the lighter and headed for the backyard of a wintery London suburban home. Cho didn't like the smell of smoke.

My coat on, I stood with bare feet just outside the sliding glass doors. I'd made note of the time. Three. Just in case I wanted the weather any colder… I bundled myself with an arm across the waist, my still-shaking hand trying to keep the end of the lit fag in my mouth as I'd breath in. I let the smoke escape from the side of my mouth, watching in the serenity of the night the twitch.

From the street I could first see the headlights over the fence, then the hum of an automobile. Cho's neighbors getting home late. The laughter from the male was like a shot to my heart. My breath literally stopped when I heard a female's giggle, and their inevitable chase towards their front door. In my absence of thought, struck with catatonia, the cigarette dropped from betwixt my index and middle fingers.

Before I could do a juggling act it landed in the wet snow below.

With everything…

"Oh, fucking hell-" Retrieving the now soggy cig, I crushed the remains in my hand."-God damn it! Is it not enough I have to be out in this fucking weather…!"

I needed to smoke.

It's one thing to bitch at me about drugs, take my alcohol away, Mary Jane, and then expect me to go about my life with a big fat fucking false smile on my face. She'd had me go over their wedding in phone calls and visits. The month being December, the last two months were critical with those phone calls and visits becoming more frequent. In my head I had them happy. I didn't want them happy. I wanted her happy. Her happy with me. Not with Harry. But…she didn't see me in that shade of light…and I wasn't about to lose her again. I nearly mucked it up once, twice, too many times.

"Friend."

I'd gone to cigarettes now with my "crutch".

I'd hear it from Hermione in the morning when she'll be over. I'm certain as the day is long. Though, on the bright side-I would be seeing Hermione-and that would certainly excite things. She's still my girl, even if I did want her to be my girl. I'd do anything for her, take a bullet even. The Killing Curse easily. Hands down. She really did put Lumos in my life.

I don't know what I'd do without her, I thought as I stood in front of Cho's bedroom door. The last time I'd just gone out on my own in the middle of the night I'd come back to a frantically worried witch. The hours following that morning felt like the good old days where mum would chastise me for missing curfew.

Gently, for I didn't want to wake lovable "Prince Charming," her wanker of a boyfriend, I pushed open the door. It took all my strength to not say the truth about the bum Cho courted, and frankly dealing with my own drama was enough.

"Cho," I called out in a little more than a whisper. "Cho."

I thought I heard Cho answer, but asked again. "Cho?"

"For fucks sake," grunted a disturbed Michael. "Get to bed, Gin. It's four fucking-"

"What's going on?" a drowsy tune from Cho's side.

"Oh, go blow yourself you nob." I hissed at Michael coming from the bed to look at me.

"Isn't that why you're here-"

"Mike!" Cho cut him short. "Don't talk to my friend like that or go home!"

Michael huffed, turned over with his pillow and yanked the sheets over his head. I heard him murmur something, but my attention was averted to Cho wondering in her drowsy state, "What is it, hun?"

"Going out for smokes. Be back in a few."

"All right. Be safe."

I began to turn around, closing the door, but stopped in my tracks with an inch left. First I heard a thump, and then peeking in saw Cho take back up her pillow and whack Michael again with it.

I chuckled and closed the door as gently as I'd opened it.

***

"This is why I've come to not like shopping in Violet Hill."

"Oh Mi," I smiled when Hermione's beautiful brown eyes appeared from beneath her aviators. I turned from her sight, albeit in pause, to see the media paparazzi outside snapping pictures through the glass. Outside the snow had begun melting; though, in the corners of streets, its curbs, the cracks where the cement kept colder yielded some white.

Thankfully they were barred from entering and following us.

On the sidewalks, however…

"Doesn't get your heart pumping?" I asked with heavy sarcasm, turning back to see the backside of Hermione. She'd already begun looking around Affinity, a Muggle-related clothes store. Witches and wizards who regularly didn't go outside of magical districts could catch a glimpse at this world, or a world where Hermione, and Harry, thrived.

From my home, and how I was reared, rendered me odd at times when I'd actually wash the dishes…by hand.

"Muggle work".

I think I did those things to impress Hermione.

However that may go.

At her heels, I kept behind her, halting when she'd choose an adorable shirt from the rack or some trousers off as shelf on the wall. She'd hold them to herself, ask how they looked-to say I was one hundred percent there would be a lie. I couldn't have been more in love, and it hurt. Bitter sweet, it was; I swear the moment I couldn't smell the aroma of vanilla my heart would stop beating.

One of Affinity's personal shoppers came rushing over the moment we stepped through the door. Of course, Hermione would turn to me nine out of ten times for an opinion over the other woman's. The personal shopper took Hermione's attention from me, and as I perused some jeans myself, took in blinks Hermione, her fashion, her personality, how she held herself, how she smiled and was super nice to the bloody attendant…even though we both wanted her gone.

From profile, how her mahogany locks and natural cinnamon highlights shined in the artificial lights of the shop. How her little red, white, and blue-striped Union Jack jacket fit to her form, her upper half, cut to her middle, to her skinny black trou-

"What do you think, Gin?"

"Hm?" I came from my trance, my hands grappling at the jeans in my hands as if nothing in particular happened.

I dropped the pair absentmindedly…and had to pick them off the floor.

Smooth.

Hermione held up a pair of dark brown, faux-leather calf-high boots; its trim a look-a-like to sheep's wool. "These `me'?"

"No," I reached behind her, seeing this ghastly rubbish-green bowler cap and placed it on her head. She laughed, which gave me goosebumps across my covered arms. "That's better!"

"Really?" Hermione gave me a puckered lips pose.

She giggled, and I gave her a nudge. "Really."

She took the bowler off and pushed the hat atop my head. "And, here I thought ugly hats were your forte!"

"Hey!" I exclaimed in a breath. Forget the nudge-I gave her a push.

Hermione lit up in laughter and came in to give me a hard poke, aiming for my stomach.

The shopping attendant stood between us looking utterly confused.

***

We thought we had outsmarted them, all of them. We went out a side door, Hermione carrying a shopping bag with the boots inside, and snuck around a back alley to a side street. We high-tailed it away from the commercial areas. We found this tiny family restaurant for lunch, escaped to the interior, ordered hot sandwiches with soup, and looked at the scenery from our window…

When we saw them.

All of them.

Hermione turned her head away, but I didn't.

I stared at them through my own sunglasses.

"You know, for the Prophet to hate us so much they sure do like to take our photographs. You'd think that would be a waste, right?"

"Maybe if we don't look at them they'll go away…," Hermione placed her hand like a shield to cover the part of her face from all the camera flashes. "They're invisible."

"But, they're not invisible."

Hermione caught the sharpness in my voice. "Well, don't egg them on. They'll only use it for their own amusement."

"I wonder if one of them is with the Quibbler…"

"Luna wouldn't send people to chase after us, and-Gin!"

I'd given them the finger.

Had enough of the harassment, and it was with the shouting, the lack of privacy and space… I merely held my hand out to them, waved, stopped, turned it upside-down, dropped all but my middle finger and told the lot through body language where they could all go.

Hermione gave a gasp of a laugh and watched as I stood from my seat and shut the curtains.

I sat back down casually and picked my half-eaten sandwich from the plate nonchalant, giving a yawn to top it off. "What?" I asked in a smirk when the toe of Hermione's shoe nudged my leg.

"Do I have something on my face?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Gin, you're so bad."

I shrugged and sipped on some tea. "Shit happens."

Hermione let out a snort, and I nearly choked on the tea.

With a smile, I nudged Hermione back with my foot under the table.

Unbeknownst to me, and through lunch, I hadn't noticed our other feet side-by-side. Only when we went to leave did I find out quickly, stepping on her trainers.

***

I've gone mad, I thought as I huddled outside with a fresh cigarette in hand. Completely mad. I need to unattach myself to her. She'll never think of me like that-never. So get over it. Get. Over. It. You're her friend or you're her lover. The second is…

Staring into the blackness, at the manufactured lawn and shrubbery, I shook my head and tapped the end of the fag. I set the end back between my lips and drew in a deep puff, subconsciously, for I went back to talking to myself.

He's such a pussy. Why the fuck would she want him? So he was fated to be `Harry'. That doesn't mean he gets whatever he wants. He-

I heard something from behind, inside the house, and saw a pink-and-white checkered figure bounce upon the sofa. Her brunette hair gave an extra bounce after she was settled, giving me that forever breathless stare. I was like this giddy school girl, and in honesty it pissed me off. Neville hadn't approached me. I approached him. And Harry-he didn't approach me at all. I did. Why couldn't I just approach her?

Oh, right-scar face.

I put my free hand over my face.

I'd gone mad…and just a bit ridiculous. I wasn't much of a jealous person. I'd always gone after and taken what I wanted, when I wanted it. Now… I couldn't and it really, really pissed me off.

But he made her…

…Happy.

Obliviously happy.

…If only she…

I tossed the cig into the dispenser and went into the living quarters I called my bedroom since the debacle with Neville. I made sure to wave off the smoke before coming in, went to brush off myself for she didn't enjoy the smell either. I came in to see her eyes glued to the movie we'd turned on the telly, a bowl of popcorn in her lap, and the quilt over her lap. Shrugging off the coat, I met with her on the sofa with a bounce in my own pyjamas.

"Give me some of that quilt!"

I slid my feet beneath it, to see her jump and push me back. "Really?! Your feet are freezing!"

I chuckled. "Fiiiine," I took some of the loose mattress sheets I had around and curled up in the opposite corner. "Did you pause it?"

Hermione was looking at the telly intently when I turned my head to see, in fact, it was on pause.

"He just looks odd."

"What?"

Hermione made a face, assuredly to imitate the cross-eyed, open-mouth action of Tom Cruise mid-sentence.

Wiggling my foot beneath her quilt, I made her jump again and crawl to her corner further. I laughed. "God, you're just silly. A silly, silly girl indeed."

I put my hand out when she shared the bowl, placing the red plastic between us.

"You really shouldn't do that," she said with her `Hermione'-tone. Jerry Maguire had been unfrozen, the film resuming.

I stopped with a piece of popcorn at my lips. "…Huh?"

She gave me the side-eye, and then a smirk. "Smoke."

"Anything!" she added after, hurriedly, peering across the sofa at me now.

I gave a huff…and threw that piece of popcorn at her face.

It hit her cheek before she had time to notice. "Hey!"

"Hey what?" I acted innocent.

She stuck her hand in the popcorn bowl, took as much as she could handle, and threw it all on me.

I sat there with buttery popcorn in my Weasley-red, all over my sleep shirt, in my sleep shirt, in my blanket…

"You…," Slowly I gazed from my surroundings. "…Are so going to get it!"

To say we made a mess of things would be an understatement.

***

As the night came to a rest, and me, my thoughts, consumed some theatrical play on the television Hermione wanted to watch after the movie finished, we curled together in the corner I'd sat in the whole night. She'd crawled across after putting her soda can down and laid her head on my chest like so many times before. I'd done equally over time. If there was one thing extremely girly I'd like to do it was cuddling.

Unfortunately I'd have to watch myself, my desire, and keep that budding emotion quelled. We're "friend's", damn it! I'd have to continue telling myself this. It wasn't going to happen. Shut up, stay cool, do what you did the bazillion other times when you didn't fancy her for Christ's sake. My mind wandered into a realm where Michael, the absolute jackass, said something to my girl and where I never once looked back after putting it to his nose.

Maybe the groin for good measure.

"Gin."

Hermione's voice came as a shock to me. She startled me, and I think she felt it. She had lifted to see me. "Are you all right?"

"Me? Oh-yeah!" I gave my best boisterous laugh…which came out flat in the end. "Eh…attention span of a thimble. You know, the usual."

"Ah…," Hermione put her head back on my chest. All those beautiful dark curls fell along me, and the arm for which I held her. "You'd gotten silent. I thought you were asleep. It is rather late."

"Sleep is for the weak!" I flexed.

Hermione gave a half-attempted laugh through her nose.

"Thank you," she said with passion behind it.

My brain went into the no-no zone, and I had to quickly ask, "For?"

"Everything-just everything. Listening to me, helping me, being there for me…," she sighed, and my heart grew by the list she proclaimed. "…I can't wait for the wedding. It'll be…"

My inflated heart depleted rapidly.

"…So special."

"W-Well," I shuffled into a stutter, and had to clear my throat to continue. "I am your Maid of Honor, after all-of course I'd be there even if I wasn't-but with a little more fire under me…for I'd like to know why I wasn't…"

I heard Hermione breathe a content sigh.

"…You know the whole reason why I've nagged you about drinking and smoking is because I want you around-forever."

"Forever?"

"Or, at least until I leave…"

"You'll never `leave'. Shush! You're `Hermione Granger'!"

I could feel Hermione smile.

I didn't have to look at her for it-I knew.

She rubbed her cheek against me and tightened her encircling grip. "Gin…"

"Yes?" Lightly, I placed my hand on her head.

She radiated pure warmth.

"…You're my best friend in the entire world."

My smile was almost jeopardized by the term, "friend," but I smiled big nonetheless.

"I just wanted you to know that in case you hadn't already for some reason."

"And, you're my best friend in the entire world," I adjoined to hers. I saw Hermione peer up at me in the dancing shadows of the telly. "And, I hope you know that."

She grinned. "Thank you, Gin."

"I love you."

"I love you, too," she sighed, and I watched her turn, that signature `Hermione' grin of hers never ceasing. She pulled with her the quilt she claimed over me, her other cheek now at my chest with her face from the flickering bluish light. I could feel her quietness, every inch, every centimetre of her body shutting down for sleep. I combed through her hair with my fingers and observed her slow drift to slumber…

I swallowed hard, so hard that if Cho were here and not at her "mate's" flat she could easily hear the swallow down the hall, through the wall and in her bedroom. I stopped the sifting of my fingers through her delicate wisps and placed my hand on my forehead. I could tell a migraine was coming, and better yet a need to smoke.

Honestly, I asked myself as I stared at the ceiling. What the fuck am I doing?

***

A rock intro picks up in volume followed by a male voice, made for radio, interweaved throughout the theme: "He's back and ready-are you? Our Patriot, Mister Lee…Jordan!"

"Hello mates, Patriots out there, kinsman and women of our beloved motherland-ten AM in the Kingdom, five AM to our friends state-side-it's Lee Jordan in with two of the most down to earth birds I've ever met in my life. I should know as I've known them for quite some time-two beautiful bombshells from Hogwarts-and names we should all know for what they've done for each and every one of us. But, enough of the logistics, let's just get back to our conversation with Missus Hermione Granger and Missus Ginevra Weasley, in-studio!"

"Hello."

"Hey my brotha's and sista's!"

Jordan leads the laughter, followed by Hermione and Ginny.

"We were discussing before the commercial break how our lovely Luna Lovegood and her patriots over at the Quibbler are designing a new magazine entitled the infamous, Q, for which none of us have seen and have been kept in the dark for far too long."

"Yep."

"Mhm."

"And they're here because these two bombshells will be featured, as well as the rest of the crew, including our handsome Potter, in its first edition in…January, correct?"

"That's correct. January."

"Only a few more weeks to go."

"So, the front will have you and Harry-"

"Because everyone hates gingers."

"They do not!"

"Brilliant." Jordan laughs. "So, the whole magazine is designed for anti-gingers?"

"Exactly."

"No, it's a showcase into the everyday lives of people and current events outside of what you may see on the telly. An intimate view into the goodship of all of us instead of all that-"

"Shit." Piped Gin.

The three give a laugh in tandem.

"Let it be heard, The Daily Prophet and Prophet paraphernalia is, in fact, `shit'. So it must be."

"Who said that?" asked an innocent-sounding Gin.

"Welcome to the front page, Gin."

Lee chuckles. "But, in all honesty folks, Luna's Quibbler assuredly will be staking claim, and I foresee a very lucrative and profitable venture into such avenues other than…smearing, or stalking, or anything of the foul Skeeter stench."

The two girls laugh.

"On a lighter and much happier note, some listeners have sent in their questions via call board. We'd have them call in directly, but there were some…oddballs, to say the least; so, we've screened the better of the lot."

"We appreciate that. It's already enough to have half the media on us day in and day out."

"Do you mind answering them for the listeners?"

"Sure."

"Absolutely."

"You were both very quick at saying yes. What if I'd asked something like, `Boxers or briefs'?"

"Boxers!" proclaims Gin.

Hermione's distinct giggle rings through the radio waves.

"That was Ginevra, ladies and gentlemen."

"Haha!"

"Okay to the questions. First one: what is the meaning of life?"

"To shag until you're numb."

"But then, how would you feel the following time?"

"You wouldn't."

"Wouldn't be much of a shag."

"Hope you've got it out of your system, eh?"

Jordan laughs. "Next question, next question-and I think this is probably easy for Ginevra from what I know-what is your favourite sport?"

"Quidditch-is there anything else?"

"I would have thought so."

"Harry would certainly kill me if I said anything other than Quidditch."

"Before or after he snogged you for being so utterly adorable?"

"Before, definitely."

Gin laughs.

"But, and I see these while at Oxford, the Muggle sports of rugby and cricket, especially rugby. I've a friend that plays rugby there-actually got me to try out for the girl's."

"How'd that go?"

"It didn't."

They let out a chuckle.

"What is the top characteristic when finding a mate?"

"Intimate?"

"Friendly."

"Gingers."

"Aww…," one could see Gin pout through the radio at Hermione. "Brunettes! Really. Hot. Brunettes."

"No skimping on `hot'?"

"Skimpy hot brunettes?"

The girls laugh.

"You two are amazing. Next question: your favorite type of food?"

"Anything homemade."

"Anything not homemade," shoots Gin.

"Always got to be against me."

"Always."

"Who do you idol?"

"My mum."

"That's such a safe answer, Mi."

"But it's true, though."

"Say something original."

"Psh. Okay-my mum, AND Joan Jett. Better?"

"Shade Epsilon, and NOT my mum."

"Chunky or smooth peanut butter?"

"Smooth."

"Psh."

"What?"

"Chunky!"

"Gross."

"It's all yours."

"'Chunky' needs love, too."

"So says Ginevra, ladies and gentlemen. So let it be fact."

The girls laugh at the statement.

"What's your ideal perfect date?"

"I know what Mi will say."

"What's that, Gin?"

"Mi's a traditionalist. Long walks on a sunset beach, wine or champagne, picnic in the park, roses-pick your poison."

"And Gin's into whips and leather."

"So says Hermione, ladies and gentlemen-"

Jordan couldn't finish, succumbing to laughter with the girls.

"Great, Mi. Now I'm going to get letters in the post. Thanks."

"Aww."

"What's your favourite flavour of ice cream?"

"Chocolate."

"Vanilla," Gin gasps. "It's like we're not meant to be!"

Hermione laughs into her microphone.

"What did you want to be when you grew up?"

"A ballerina!!"

From Hermione's microphone, again, came a not-so-subtle laugh; more of a burst.

"A pretty pink one, Gin?"

"Yes!"

"With frills?"

"Yes! EXACTLY!!"

"And one last question before our time is up, and as much as I don't want to ask it and have you guys go on your merry way-"

"Aw, do we have to go?"

"Oh, you very well don't have to go. My Producer is telling me that the lines are going mad with callers. I'm sure mostly the male base, too, for you ladies."

Gin puts on her most seductive voice, "Why, hello there boys…"

Hermione sparks another set of addictive laughs, garnering Gin to crack from her seducing.

"The question is: who, if any, have you ever had a crush on? Well, this one I can answer, for it's easy: me! Right?"

"Oh yes, Lee. Absolutely. I fancied you-still do."

Gin laughs, "It's true, Lee."

"Harry wouldn't mind?"

"Oh, psh-no!"

"Hahaha… Brilliant. Harry's found a catch, he did."

"George Clooney."

"Really, Gin?"

"Yes, and King Kong."

"Pfft-hahahaa…"

"Hey! Don't diss the Kong."

"You don't know how many lads out there say they fancy you two. It's startling."

"Startling?!"

Hermione gasps. "What does that mean, exactly?"

"I didn't-oh, you two-haha. You both have a set of admirers."

"Oh how we know," chides Gin. "The only thing I want to say for all the men out there is, if I see you look at my girl wrong I'll fly over there and kill you."

"So violent!"

"Understanding the `whips and leather' more now."

The three laugh.

"Harry-I think I've secretly crushed him since I met him on the Hogwarts Express."

"So sweet…and sappy, and I've a toothache now. Thanks."

"Anytime, love."

"Sorry mates out there in Radioland. Looks like Hermione's quite taken, and-"

"And, I'm unavailable, so-at least for the time being."

"So, they've a chance?"

"Sure. Why not?"

The three laugh once more.

Lee Jordan's rock outro starts.

***

"For Christ's sake," I shouted from the lavatory and into Cho's bedroom. "Would you turn a different bloody song on?"

"Chill the fuck out, Gin," answered an irritated Cho. I'd asked her this several times now, bordering on who really outweighed irritation. She had Savage Garden's Truly Madly Deeply on repeat, and it grew incessantly tiring. Her chorus wasn't exactly angelic, either, to the damn sappy music. And, I wasn't exactly in the mood.

I stepped back into the lavatory, eyeliner pencil in hand. I went to begin reapplying when I heard Cho start the song over again. "Really?" I had to compete with the volume. "Really? Are we being a bitch for a reason?"

"Oh, you're just mad because you're going to see Harry and Hermione snogging all night long."

This…was an unfortunate truth.

Their Christmas Eve party.

Christmas Eve-any holiday-don't even get me started on Valentine's Day…

I was sure I'd see them all…sugary sweet, and about a damned annoying as this bloody song.

I didn't care about the makeup anymore. So what if it wasn't even in some areas? I just wanted to go. I'll see Hermione-fine-just keep my head centred and try not look their way…too much. And what was I going to do? Tell them "No"? After Hermione personally asked me face-to-face? I can see it now.

"I'd like for you to come to our Christmas Eve party, Gin."

"No."

"…What? Why?"

"Because I'd rather shove my wand in my eye than to see you two go at it as if you haven't seen each other in years."

"Tell them I'll be running a little late," called Cho. I could hear car keys jingling as she walked by the open bathroom door.

I glanced from the right as she went by, adjusting the crimson-and-black jumper hanging from my shoulders.

"Tell Hermione, `Hi,' for me," Cho winked and proceeded to laugh hysterically.

"You're such a bitch sometimes…," I think I could have yanked each individual hair out of her head if it wasn't for, you know, living under her roof. I merely huffed, patted to front of my black jeans, and flicked the light off.

She hadn't turned the God-forsaken music off.

My boots were beside the stereo, which assisted the killing of two birds with one stone.

I accidentally tipped the radio over, having it crash to the floor in the most awful noise. I didn't bother pulling it from the wall, gravity and tension helping me.

I put a finger to my lips as I went for my purse.

My… I hope it didn't break!

I laughed like all those evil witches portrayed in fairy tales, and apparated with a pop.

***

O' Tannenbaum rang forth after pressing the doorbell to Number Twelve. I stood in what seemed like bloody North Pole, rebounding to the tips of my toes to stay warm. Roast potatoes in Tupperware, I tried to coordinate with the turkey and gravy I knew they'd made, or she'd made.

I knew it'd only been a few seconds, but I couldn't stop staring at the wreath on the door. Everything was so cozy…too cozy. I heard myself swallow, and I felt like running. To say I didn't feel like dropping everything and apparating-"I got ill"-would that work? Probably not-not with her sixth sense, at least. Then again, it would be a very awful lie; not one worthy of even saying. "Sorry, Mi. But my heart was crushed" would probably be better. At least I wouldn't start shaking.

Of course, the door swung open and, lo and behold, my heart leapt-shaking included, but for another reason: Hermione, my beautiful girl, standing there with that absolutely gorgeous smile, perfect hair and bright eyes for me. She caught me off-guard, not that she noticed my inner turmoil, for the moment I saw her everything went to the wayside.

"Gin!" She squealed and literally leapt from the top step down, arms wide, and into the biggest, warmest embrace.

Shifting with precision the Tupperware, I made room for her and room for my arms around her.

Some of those cinnamon highlights swept beneath my nose, and she smelled divine, her vanilla at its maximum strength…or the swelling of my own senses from the sudden excitement.

This is what she could do to me.

The little hairs on my arms standing on in-if she could see them through the coat, that is.

…And, it was pure and utter torture.

I gazed passed her and at Harry, leaning just inside the hallway, watching us with that…smile of his. If I wanted to, and I wanted to…I'd have stuck my tongue out, or better yet, my middle finger. But, because of Hermione…and because it would just end disastrous, ruining the evening completely before it started, I just smiled through the wind swaying brunette hair over my face at him in the doorway.

He gave me a wave.

I nodded.

"Merry Christmas!!" exclaimed an ecstatic Granger.

"Happy Christmas…!" my tone found lukewarm when I locked eyes back with Harry's. He knew I'd tightened my grip, or I thought, unawares, subconsciously needing to and did so.

He had her-so what the Hell? He needed to quit being so damn nice. Be a prick, or something-be more like Ron.

No, I wished I hadn't said that. After what he'd done to her, and how I systematically helped her be…happy…

I hate feeling like this… I'm pathetic.

"Come on in out of the cold, love," Hermione took me by hand and led me from the frigid winter air, and into faultless warm. Christ, if it weren't so flipping happy I'd swear I'd just stumbled into a scene straight from the front of some Family Magazine, holiday edition. Candles, and garland, and Christmas bulbs, a humongous tree with too many presents, a fire flickering joyfully in its hearth, Christmas music playing and savory aromas of everything yummy…

…And then, for her to turn towards me like that, in the shadows and orange casted hue of the fire, in her perfectly perfect, adorable way, and smile, and-are you kidding me? Really? Really?!

It really did take all of me to not snog her right then.

I think I understood how Harry couldn't fight it, as much as I didn't want to think about it. Really though, who the fuck could miss opportunities like that with a girl like this? Seriously. It hurts, hence the stare I gave him as we crossed paths at the doorway. A stare that read, "I swear if you fucking hurt her, your balls are mine, mate."

She'd never know what was really going on, mind you.

I exchanged the roast potatoes with Harry as Hermione tugged on my arm. Being tugged in one direction, I captured by sight my brother in the kitchen briefly, or where Harry headed. His eyes went from Hermione, and then to me where he gave off this goofy smile. I rolled my eyes, threw up my hand and said, "Ron."

"Ginny." He tilted his head up in confirmation.

I wondered how long he'd been here, but couldn't have cared less when I was with Hermione on the sofa. I didn't, however, enjoy when that lock of hair dropped over that part of her face, covering her eye. I brushed it away, halting a breath when she went to talk. She smiled, side-saddle in her position, her madly-beautiful legs camouflaged black by tights, her knee pushed into the back of the cushion. She had her hands with mine, as they were since the doorway, and to which had my attention even after she began talking.

Though, when I saw how ethereal the tone of her skin was in the glow of the fire, her shirt off the shoulder and what looked like a sports bra strap exposed sought to win my vision. And it did, struggling when I knew she was talking to me, but I couldn't help but notice the golden flecks in that cinnamon-and-mahogany curl cascading from her flawlessly naked shoulder…

"Gin!" She picked up my hands in hers and shook them.

My eyes slowly moved.

She made her voice mimic as if it were robot, "Earth to Weasel. Earth to Weasel."

I blinked, and managed a, "Hm?"

"What's wrong?" Her head dropped to my fleeting level. "You haven't been-"

"What?" I gasped, and then grinned to reflect anything happening. "Gods, Hermione-no!"

I purposely pushed her bare shoulder lightly, and I swore those tips of my fingers that felt that sheen of softened flesh electrified. I nearly lost it and had to retract into hastened laughter.

"I zoned out. I'm cool, really."

"Okay…," Hermione cocked her brow, but brushed the invisible off with another one of her signature smirks. She shook my hands again. "So, tell me!"

"Yes?"

"Your job, silly!"

So enraptured with her, I'd completely forgotten the bloody good news.

"The Quibbler! Right! Yeah-"

"You're such a dork," Hermione sighed.

I squeezed her hands. "Says the total nerd," I laughed.

"I'll take that as a compliment," she stuck her tongue out.

And, I wanted to snatch it-until she squeezed my hands, and tightly.

"Tell me about your new position!"

Missionary, or…? I rolled my eyes at myself. I am a dork…just an extremely pathetic one.

"It's with Q-the sports section," I watched those pretty eyes on me sparkle with energy. "Quidditch, really, but I'll be researching and watching Muggle sports, too, `to bring in another crowd'. Luna said she `knew not another soul who knows more about Quidditch than Gin', so-"

"I'm so very proud of you!" Hermione fought in her seat, wiggling on her bum.

"I start on the first."

"Super, super-super awesome!" Hermione came in and gave me…such a wonderfully warm hug.

"I'm so proud and happy for you, Gin…after everything…"

She said this in whisper, by my ear, and I couldn't faze the chill running down my spine. So, I rode the wash of happiness, and smiled.

I closed my eyes, tightened the embrace, and said in the same whisper, "…Thank you, Mi."

The doorbell broke our moment.

Hermione leaned from me, ushering in this empty cold.

I turned to face the direction of the door, and subsequently Harry coming out of the kitchen laughing with my brother at something.

"Yeah, I'll have to remember that one, mate…," He said as he stepped around the corner, and to us, to Hermione where he smiled and said, "Don't worry, I'll get it. You two do your girl thing."

Hermione chuckled, and I caught her rolling eyes. "It's probably Luna and Alice," Hermione lifted from her bum a smidgen to see over the sofa, her eyes on Harry's backside.

"Cho's at her boyfriend's for a bit and will be here later!"

"Roger," announced a muffling Harry from his distance.

I heard the door open, and the shrieking of Luna, "Happy Christmas!!"

Hermione and I both looked at each other and smiled.

"We better go greet them."

I nodded.

Hermione took my hand, to my pleasure, and led the way once more.

***

I think-maybe-Harry turning an old Chudley Cannons exhibition match was his way of averting my attention. Why? Because, there they were, together, right there over on the sofa to which I'd gotten nauseated enough to leave and sit on the floor between Cho and Luna. Alice sat herself behind and above Luna, interested really on what Luna was doing even if Cho was talking to her about…something. I didn't know, not paying attention and trying to pay all of my attention to the bloody telly and not gaze to my left at the lovey-dovey scene.

They weren't eating each other.

Thank God.

They were just…holding hands, and she was leaning into him.

Gag-worthy.

Screaming to the whole room: "HEY! LOOK AT US!! WE'RE IN LOVE!!!! LOOOOOOOOOVE!!!!!"

I couldn't believe I did all this.

Why would I do this?

Because you wanted her at her happiest.

Quit being a bitch. Christ, woman.

That didn't keep me from watching them from askance, in slits, and grinding my teeth.

What angered me more came from the continued ogling of Hermione from my dear, red-headed brother. He was brooding in the corner away from everyone. Maybe he thought he was being "mysterious and cool"-Hell if I knew what rummaged in his brain; but, the staring pissed me off. I wanted to shout, "Hey, buddy! Take a picture! It would last longer!" Seriously… Brood in another fucking corner. Damn.

I didn't know which I could stand more:

The ever-so-slight peck-kiss from Hermione to Harry.

Or.

The way Ronald kept his eyes intently on Hermione, Hermione's body, or wherever he looked.

I swore if he was trying to get a glimpse down her damn shirt…

I waited, patiently, impatiently, for the moment when he'd go get a drink. Or, food. Something. Anything. Go to the loo-I'd follow your arse. Make it casual-looking.

"Hey, what's up?"

"Nothing."

"Well, you know you can go to Hell?"

"What…?"

Just like that.

He got her these pink-and-black headphones.

Headphones.

The fuck? Headphones?

Who does that?

Mine was personal, something I knew she'd outright enjoy more than silly headphones: CDs of her favorite classical rock bands.

So direct and personal I'd actually overlapped one she already had.

Ah, ha, you little bastard. I win.

Walk away.

My eyes were still in slits as I watched Ronald watch Hermione, and then Harry, who I lifted Hermione's hand and caressed her knuckles.

I rolled my eyes, frustrated, sickened.

If steam or smoke could come from my nose…

SMOKE! Fucking hell… I need a God damn smoke!

I want to throw up.

She smiled at him after he kissed her hand.

Big. Fucking. Deal.

Ron hadn't noticed me-if at all-during the whole Eve get-together; so, when he slipped away finally, he didn't notice me again as I got up. I pushed off the floor with one hand, brushed myself off with another and stepped across Cho's out-stretched legs. I saw Hermione turn her head to me when I got up; but, I had my target set.

Ron wandered into the kitchen, presumably to fill his cup up with eggnog, stuff his face.

As I entered I kept an eye on the mistletoe hanging above…and I wanted to tear it down.

So many little…occurrences…

I shuddered.

My eyes lit when I saw he had his back turned, and a sinister smile crept upon my face; though, it faded as I approached the buffet of food and drink. Aside him, towering over me, buffed from the growing weight he had been putting on before his trip to the Ministry. In anyone's opinion he could very well have been compared to someone who could take out this frail ginger.

Guess again.

I went about as if I were pouring more eggnog from the punch bowl.

I think I even whistled a tune-a Christmasy tune.

I looked at him from the side, at him taking a fork and adding more turkey, more of my roast potatoes and more stuffing on his plate. He wasn't aware, at all, of all the devices I had him in-wanted him in-for being so "Ronald" all over again.

"She's not yours." I said, short and scathingly.

He stopped a second, but continued after the pause, cutting a piece of fruitcake.

"She's Harry's."

"What is your problem, Ginny?" He curtly, and abruptly, shot at me, turning towards me as he did. "You've been staring at me all fucking night long. Let's hear it. What did I do that's gotten your knickers in a knot now?"

"Quit staring at her or I'll break your fucking nose."

"What are you talking about?"

"Hermione, dumb arse."

"You're mad, I say," He laughed it off. "You've taken squarely after mum, you know that?"

"I'm telling you now, and I won't tell you again-" I pushed his arm hard enough to make him shuffle a bit.

He swatted me back and pushed me as I did, having me stumble. "Come off it, woman! Do you think I'm so daft to not know Hermione is with Harry? No shit."

"Well quit fucking staring at her like she's some piece of fucking meat, wanker."

"Good Lord…," Ron ran his hand from the length of his Weasley-red stalks shooting forth from a bandana, and down his face, exaggerating his facial features. "What…is…"

"…With you-" He shot at me, to my level of height and saw it. The passion, the affection, the…more than obvious attraction. "-Oh Christ… Christ!"

He started laughing, and loudly.

I was sure the others could hear us now.

I stopped talking, breathing even.

He stopped, looked me over once, and started laughing again.

"You're hysterical! You're a clown! A freak!" He laughed, paused, and laughed some more. He held his sides as if it hurt-I wanted to hurt him.

My eyes kept flicking towards the den, and then back to the horse's arse.

"She's not gay-Hermione," He started up laughing again, a burst.

"You're such a fucking arse face," I seethed, biting. "Get out of my sight."

"With pleasure! Hahahaa!!" He all but fell over trying to climb from the kitchen. He looked back, saw me and started up again.

One swift punch to the nose…

I bore holes through the back of this bobbing head.

…Just like before.

I stayed calm, or tried, for the sake of the evening.

I enveloped myself with Cho for the rest of the night, staying with her and away from everyone else. Hermione knew something had happened-I'm sure everyone did. Ron did make the loudest fuss he could, and I, stupidly, let the door open for him to take full advantage of the weakness. He had nothing to lose. I had everything to lose. He knew it.

I cut the night short, or shorter than I'd wanted.

I ended up believing I could stomach Hermione and Harry's loving bouts; though, Hermione knew afterwards with my withdrawal with Ron, the whole spiel, and took considerable caution is…displaying public affection in front of me. It got weird, and awkward, and I just wanted to leave.

"I love you," she said to me when we hugged before I left.

I hugged her, and hugged her tight. "Love you too, Mi."

We were by ourselves at the door, Cho waiting outside.

I'd tell her everything later.

Let the consoling begin: rocky road ice cream and cigarettes.

Hermione took my hands in each of hers when we released and smiled her smile, that lock of hair covering up that part of her face. "We'll do something tomorrow after we're done at my parents. Just you and me, all right?"

She sort of swung my hands around.

Her effort to console me, too.

"You don't have to if it'll be-"

She shushed me. "It'll be no bother."

She tilted her head to the side and smirked. "Trust me. Anywhere you want. A movie?"

I slipped my hands away.

I could feel the emotional rollercoaster within my soul, and I couldn't help but take her back into my arms and hug her tight.

She patted my head and gently gave it a rub, my face in her bare, soft shoulder.

"I'll call you straight away when we've come home."

I wanted to say, "I love you" again…but I couldn't for fear of crying.

She, however…

"Love you," she smiled at me when we broke apart. "Tomorrow."

She nodded.

"Tomorrow," I peeped.

"And, I hope you really did love my gift."

I let out this puff, a groan, and gave an eye roll into blinking, to look at her and look at her intently, "I'll cherish it."

And, I did.

Walking from Number Twelve, through apparation and at Cho's I couldn't help but play with the tiny charms on the silver bracelet Hermione had given me, each charm representing something we'd been through, together.

I couldn't keep my eyes off a bitty heart, the only charm with a colour, rosy pink, as the centrepiece.

Maybe I jumped to conclusions.

Maybe not.

I was biased, wanted to be biased.

I'll embrace denial.

***

{Author Note: Ginevra really regrets what she's pieced together, eh? Hindsight is twenty-twenty. Because I haven't had the time I wish I had to write, here was a rather lengthy chapter. I hope to have another chapter uploaded soon.}

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