Magic and Misperceptions
Chapter 9: the Ball
Author: addisonJ
Beta: DeeMichelle
Disclaimer: The following story is based on situations and characters owned by J.K. Rowling, Jane Austen, and their publishers.
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A/N: Portkey fans: I've been having issues updating, so the format may be weird, but I didn't want to postpone this any longer. (I just had issues uploading Chapt 8). Sorry in advance!
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Harry Potter hated balls. Harry Potter would prefer to be on his broom, chasing a Snitch or just flying through the air with the wind at his face and a thrill in his heart. Harry Potter did not enjoy being stared at, or approached by scantily clad witches who spoke of inane things, simultaneously boring and repulsing him. He hated fangirls. He hated wearing dress robes. He hated dancing. He was the opposite of his best friend in all these ways.
Ron was standing, of course, with Luna on his arm. He would glance down at her frequently, his love for her plainly sketched on his face. It was obvious and so embarrassing really, since Luna just retained that ever-dreamy look of hers, the same look she had during exams, during meals, during Quidditch games. Probably had the same damned look on the toilet! Her expression never altered, and one would think if she loved him as much as he loved her, there would be some sort of change. An increased dreaminess? He wasn't sure, just that it wasn't there.
He looked about, ignoring the three witches who were talking directly in front of him, trying to draw him into the conversation. He refused to make eye contact with them, and hoped that this war of attrition would soon be over, and they would surrender and fall over Oliver Wood instead. Who was here? All the usuals: lots of Gryffindors, a few Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, the occasional Slytherin; many from the Ministry, more Aurors; it was a great turnout. Certainly a success from that perspective. But Harry kept looking, not sure what he was seeking until he saw her.
There she was. In a pale blue dress that flattered her combination of slimness and curves completely. It was off-shoulder and fitted in the bodice yet flowed past her hips to the floor. Her curly hair was pinned atop her head again with jewelled hairclips. She had just the right amount of makeup, enough to flatter her natural beauty but not too much to be a distraction. She was speaking to Neville and Padma, of course. And who was that? Draco Malfoy? Who invited him? Harry's jaw clenched as he saw Draco brush against Hermione's bare elbow, his head tilt down to whisper in her ear, his lips sending soft bursts of air therein. Hermione smiled and kept her conversation with her friends. Draco then brushed his finger along her jaw line. Suddenly, Draco looked up and directly at Harry, leering at him.
Harry turned away quickly. He was caught and he was furious. Furious that Malfoy was touching Hermione, furious that he was caught gawking, furious that he was furious about it all. He stormed to the bar and ordered a firewhiskey, then downed it in one. Damn!
He wanted to leave but knew that he had to stay for his friend's sake. His best friend. His best friend who loved parties, loved balls and very probably loved the blonde witch next to him. He had to stay.
He tried not to look across the room at Draco caressing Hermione's cheek, but he could not help himself. He had to look again. This time, not only Draco, but also Hermione met his stare. He glanced quickly away, afraid to be caught in the act. Damn! Damn Draco and damn that woman. That woman with the fine eyes, keen intellect and passion for justice. Pity she was a Quidditch fangirl with Krum chasing her. Pity she had some dreadful friends.
What were those dreadful friends up to now? Last time he saw Parvati and Lavender, they were loitering at the open bar, chatting up the Chudley Cannons who were all guests of Ron's. Harry knew that Ron was putting out feelers, considering becoming a part owner. The Weasley fortune had grown since the Golden Duo defeated You-Know-Who, and Ron was able to consider investing the surplus funds, now that there actually was a surplus, a welcome change from having to scrimp and save just to cover the bare essentials for a family of nine. Lav and Pav were chatting with Ron, but mostly with the Quidditch players. Oliver Wood was there of course. That was a man who loved the spotlight, Harry noted wryly. And the spotlight loved him. He was handsome, charming, and handled reporters and fangirls with ease. Actually, Ron had many of the same qualities as well, but as Oliver played the field, Ron tended to fall in love on a serial basis. Miss Lovegood appeared to be his latest paramour.
Miss Lovegood, who was of course standing next to Ron, appeared to giving her full attention not to the young Auror who appeared madly in love with her, but her silly flatmates and the Quidditch players they happened to be fawning over. Harry was surprised Miss Granger did not follow them as well. As Luna was focusing on others, Ron's attention was fixated on her. He just looked at her with love and ardour. And Harry knew what he must do. He must save his friend from himself.
Resolute, Harry looked about the assembly hall for a potential ally in the plot that was forming in his head. Ginny was there. She stood in a group of Witch Weekly writers and photographers. Their eyes met, and Harry indicated towards where Ron and Luna stood. Ginny followed his gaze, then nodded. They understood each other: one to save his friend, the other to save her brother. But there was agreement in the end result.
Harry looked back to Ron, and unsurprised to see no change in Ron and Luna's interactions. Pav and Lav, however, decided to take their fun to another level. They were now mixing drinks, drinks that had no right to be mixed. Harry grimaced as he saw them pour two fingers of butter beer in a tall glass, then two fingers of Ogden's. What a waste! Harry could use some of that whiskey right now, actually, his night was so terrible. Then they -shudder - added cider! Cider! Harry shook his head at the thought. Then he watched as they egged each other on to drink it. That concoction! That waste of perfectly good Ogden's! The horror!
Harry had to move onto something else, He couldn't watch Hermione and Draco without cringing, the Lav and Pav show was a fright. What else was there? Was there any sanity left? Where were Padma and Neville, they could always be counted on to be the voice of reason. Harry cast his eye about the floor and was surprised to see Ginny and Draco dancing. Ginny! And Draco! Was this a sign of the Apocalypse? He didn't even know that they spoke to each other, much less danced. And they did not seem to be enjoying it either. Both were tense and stiff, lips in a firm line and eyes everywhere but on their partner. Why the devil were they dancing together then? It made no sense whatsoever.
Harry looked about the room again (ignoring the fangirls who kept coming up and asking stupid questions; his standard response to them was no response at all), and he noticed Hermione now talking to Viktor Krum. And Viktor was standing quite close to her. Almost as close as Draco. And she did not appear to move away from him. She seemed to enjoy his presence. She talked, he moved closer to her; she had a small secret smile, as she continued her conversation with some friends from the Ministry. This woman had two suitors in five minutes! Incredible! Where were Ernie and Cormac to complete the picture - no, harem! Is harem used for men or only for groups consisting of women? Harry wondered. Hermione doubtless knew the answer.
Harry needed a drink.
***
An hour earlier….
Hermione was enjoying herself. Lav and Pav picked a splendid pale blue gown for her. They managed to transform her in almost as little time as they had for the Puddlemere United gala. The bookworm was impressed, and pondered how they could monetise this skill of theirs.
Hermione observed with pleasure the attention Ron was paying to Luna. She was amazed that although they spent nearly six years together at Hogwarts, nothing romantic had happened (Luna did mention that Harry, at least, escorted her to an event, but only as friends.) Must be a strange chemistry in the air that these two should finally find their soul mates in each other, after knowing each other for so many years. Maybe the time was not right before? No kismet? For whatever reason, they found each other now, and Hermione was grateful.
She danced with Ernie, Viktor and Cormac already, and was thankful for a bit of rest. She was chatting with some friends from the Ministry when she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Not in prelude to an evil way, but a warning almost … she was about to turn to discover the catalyst when she felt a breath in her ear and heard the familiar voice of Draco Malfoy.
"Come here often?" he joked. Hermione could not help but smile in response.
"As often as I must. You?"
"As often as I must. One must keep the Malfoy name in the society pages. And this is the Golden Duo."
"Not all are Golden. Some our scowling."
Hermione glanced at Harry who was indeed scowling. He seemed embarrassed at being caught and turned rapidly away.
"See? He hates Muggles."
"So I'm supposed to take it personally?"
"As you wish."
Hermione again recognised the quote from The Princess Bride.
"Do you notice the fangirls around him?" Draco continued.
Hermione nodded.
"He looks like he hates it, but he secretly loves it. He loves the attention, or why else would he be here?"
"To support his friend?
"He knows Ron well enough that Ron would accept his absence. No, he really does love it. He knows how vulgar it would be to seem otherwise, but isn't that how the mentally ill behave? They are not true to themselves."
"You're saying he's mentally ill?"
"Living with such abuse from his Muggle relatives would cause anyone to go over the deep end. Harry defeated You-Know-Who. That … mental state of his was critical in the battle. However, it's much harder in the day-to-day normalcy of a normal life, a life without the Dark Lord."
"But he is an Auror and Death Eaters still exist."
"Yes, but one does not defeat such evil without having access to it within oneself."
Hermione took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. The conversation was veering into dangerous ground. Draco was inferring that Harry was a bit mad and evil. As much as she disliked him, she simply could not sit by and let injustice-even against Harry bloody Potter-continue.
"One could think that you're the one who might be accessing such evil to say such things. Could it be based out of jealousy?" Hermione's body language was unchanged but her tone of voice was quite firm. She wanted Draco to know that they were on quite serious ground now.
Draco smiled and responded by leaning into her, brushing her elbow and whispering into her ear. "And why would I be jealous of Harry bloody Potter? He hates Muggles and doesn't appreciate a witch as lovely as you." To emphasise his point, Draco traced his finger along Hermione's jaw line and a shiver shot straight from her jaw to her core. It was exciting and thrilling and quite sensual. She caught her breath and noticed Draco entranced by the sudden tightness of her gown bodice when she inhaled deeply. It was all getting quite sexual and quite out of control. She was attracted to Draco, and really did not want to be. Something beyond her logical mind flashed warning signs when he was near, but it could not stop her from getting warm at that moment. It could not stop a desire to have his finger trace along past her jaw along her low neckline, grazing over her chest. She needed to get away from him and his damned smoldering eyes, and quickly.
And again she noticed Harry Potter directly across the room, scowling of course. Damn.
Merde, merde, merde, merde, merde. (shit.) She was feeling out of control and that was a feeling Hermione Granger despised. What to do? She had to gain control again. She glanced away from Harry for a life buoy. A tall hook-nosed Bulgarian Seeker answered her plea.
"Oh, Draco, please excuse me but I need Viktor for something. See you later."
Her words were dismissive, but as Hermione moved away from Draco, he grabbed her by the wrist, and stroked his thumb along her skin; the repercussions of which shot straight to her core again, making her moist. She pondered if she could freshen up in the loo before her scent was obvious to every man in the room.
"Yes, later. I'd like that," Draco pulled her close and breathed into her ear. Hermione gasped when she felt his tongue graze her ear in a split second, then disappear again. He moved briskly to stand directly in front of her, an impediment in her path to Viktor and thus blocking Viktor's view of his movements. Draco pressed himself against Hermione's abdomen, so that she could feel his erection. He gave her a sexy, lazy smile, and then seemed to disappear.
I am so out of my depth with him, Hermione thought despairingly. Merde, merde, merde, merde, merde.
"Hermione!" Viktor was beside her in an instant. "You looked upset. What happened? What has Malfoy done?"
"Nothing. He's just a bit unpleasant at times. But please stay with me for a moment? I need a balance to Malfoy's disagreeableness."
"I will have him out-" Viktor's voice changed from concern to anger and rage. He moved in the direction of Malfoy, but Hermione put out a hand to stop him.
"No. Viktor, no. I can handle this."
"I did not look like you could handle it, moyata lyubov (my love). I know you are the brightest witch of your age, but handling a cad like Malfoy was not in your books."
Viktor took her hand and kissed it gently, looking at her with kindness and love. "Skupa, I would do anything for you. If we were married, you would not face the lewd attentions of a Malfoy. You would be mine, and I would duel any man to the death for your honour."
Hermione reached up to touch his face lightly. Instead of joy that someone loved her so much that he would risk his life for her, she only felt bittersweet sadness, and disgust with herself for not being in love with this magnificent man. "My Viktor," she said, as she kissed her fingers gently, and then placed them on his lips. He grabbed her hand in both of his, closed his eyes and breathed, then placed her hand above his heart.
"Vinagi (always)," he whispered.
Merde, merde, merde, merde, merde.
***
"Hermione! Watch this!"
Several hours later, Lav and Pav, the terrible twosome, had consumed enough spirits to inebriate a sailor, and had chatted up every Quidditch player at the ball, English-speaking or not. They had propositioned Oliver Wood more times than he could count, and pinched enough bums for a sexual harassment suit in a Muggle court. They were having the time of their lives. And, according to them, it would only get better if their Frenchie flatmate would join in.
Parvati and Lavender were on the shoulders of some Quidditch players Hermione did not recognise. They seemed to have invented a game that consisted of playing catch with one of the centrepieces. It dropped frequently, but other Quidditch players were happy enough to pick up the centrepiece and return it to the inebriated fangirls so they could continue their play. Soon, other inebriated fangirls decided to join in, and there were sufficient Quidditch players willing to have a pretty girls on their shoulders with their legs draped over their chests, not to mention what was pressed against the back of their necks.
Hermione smiled. Her flatmates were a bit insane and probably a bad influence, but she liked their exuberance. In the past, Hermione would have looked down upon such frivolity, preferring to wallow in loneliness in the library. That was before her Beauxbatons mentor, Marguerite. Then she realised she could be a bookworm and enjoy being silly as well.
"Hermione! You must join us!" Lavender called out.
Hermione shook her head and smiled. "I'd be no good at this!"
"No one's good at this!" one of the inebriated fangirls laughed in response.
"Do you need assistance?" There was a deep male voice beside her. Hermione turned to see Andrei Andon, a teammate of Viktor's. Hermione knew him vaguely, and noted he always seemed responsible and trustworthy, often chaperoning the young recruits if they went a bit too wild on tour.
"No, Andrei, I'm quite all right."
"You know you can trust me. I know you are Viktor's witch, and Viktor would castrate me if I did anything to you or let anything happen to you."
Hermione paused and looked at Andrei. He was not very tall, a bit wide, but had warm, genial features and a big smile. Hermione smiled in response. "Well, all right. I won't be getting a better offer, will I?" she joked.
Andrei very delicately helped her as she lifted her skirts and sat atop his broad shoulders. It was then she realised that her flatmates had talked her into wearing stockings with a garter belt instead of her usual tights, and a few of the blokes nearby had noticed, too. With a flush, she quickly pushed her skirt lower.
Harry Potter was observing from across the room. He had watched her as she chatted with Viktor, flirted with Malfoy, and now flirting with some Bulgarian teammate of Viktor's, giving him a glance of her bare thighs above her stockings. Who wears stockings? Fangirl tarts, that's who, thought Harry. He scowled and took another swig from his emptying glass. Need more Firewhisky.
"She's quite the ride, eh?" a lazy drawling male voice said close to his ear, almost echoing his thoughts. Harry did not need to look to know that Draco Malfoy was beside him. He took another drink.
"She's amazing in bed. The quiet ones usually are. Saves up all that passion for the sack so when they release it, Merlin! She was insatiable! I'm surprised she could walk back to work afterwards."
"You slept with her at work?!"
"I wouldn't call it sleep. I'd call it a shag. In the alley, the broom closet, empty conference rooms. You don't think we have lunch during lunch, do you?" Draco nodded towards the impromptu sporting event, nearly pointing at Andrei. "She's had most of the Vratsa team, too. Heard there was a bet for her to make her way through the Puddlemere United, then Chudley Cannons. Some of the birds here are quite jealous of her. Lav and Pav provide the introductions and Hermione-"
"Lies!"
Harry and Draco turned to see Viktor Krum, storm up to Draco and push his considerable finger into Draco's finely clad chest. "Apologise! Hermione is not that type of girl! She is not a tart! She would never sleep with you!"
"Is that because she still won't sleep with you, Krum?" Draco sneered, then swiftly dodged Krum's fist as it aimed for his chin.
"You-you losh chovek (bad person)! Prokleti da ste v ada (damn you to hell)!" Viktor roared. Immediately, he was joined by several of his teammates, including Andrei, who deposited Hermione on the ground when he saw a team member in trouble.
Hermione ran up and placed a hand on Viktor's arm, willing him to remain calm. "Viktor, what is it? I'm sure whatever it is, it isn't worth jeopardising the team for something this pathetic little man says."
"Saved by mummy," Draco sneered. He tried to leave, but was stopped by several large Bulgarians. "Really, is this necessary?" Draco drawled as he turned to Viktor. "No harm done."
"You have insulted a lady's honour!" Viktor declared, as Hermione went quite red, suddenly understanding the situation.
"Viktor, he is not worth it. Let him walk away," Hermione said quietly. Viktor looked at her, and then nodded to his teammates to let the Slytherin pass.
"Potter, you must not listen to those lies. You must not listen to Draco."
Harry looked at Viktor and nodded, but he was still stunned by what took place so quickly in front of him.
Viktor seemed to understand Harry's thoughts. He moved closer so that few could hear.
"Potter, you must not believe those lies. Hermione would never-never-she is not that type of girl."
"Gluposti (shit)! Hermione a tart? She's the furthest thing from it! The whole team loves her like a sister," Andrei added as Hermione wanted to sink further into the floor.
"Draco said I was a whore?" Hermione asked in a strained voice.
"Not those words exactly. Not that you got paid for it, but that you serviced entire Quidditch teams," Harry responded, realising how stupid he sounded. How could he have even considered that Draco would say the truth? He ran his hands through his hair, making it more tousled. He regretted his words, especially after seeing the look of despair on Hermione's face. Viktor was incensed, of course, but Hermione just looked so forlorn. He longed to make things right.
"Look, it's not true! No one with any sense would believe it!" Harry said, realising he just grouped himself in the `without sense' faction.
Hermione waved away his pleas. "Don't bother. Gossip like this is hard to stop once it starts. I just … I'm just … I'm just a bit surprised and shocked, that's all. I can't really think of a decent response at the moment."
"Hermione, you're a fighter. You have more courage than the average Gryffindor. Fight back," Harry said.
"Hermione, dear, I will crush Malfoy," Viktor added.
"No, Viktor let me think of something. But right now I just want to forget," Hermione replied.
Harry watched the once vibrant young woman continue to deflate before his eyes; she had surrendered. He made an instant decision.
"Then dance with me. I'm a lousy dancer, so you can focus on my inept steps and hope I don't damage your lovely shoes. That will keep your mind off any bit of nonsense." Harry held out a hand with a small smile.
Hermione hesitated, and then replied by reaching out and enclosing her hand in his. Viktor seemed surprised as well; he knew from Hermione's letters that she and Harry weren't exactly friends, but he appreciated that the young wizard was attempting to help his love. He was also a bit upset that he did not think to do the same thing.
The music had changed to a slower number the moment they reached the dance floor. The two looked at each other, shrugged, and Hermione held out her hands so that Harry could place his hand on her waist and the other in her upraised hand.
Her skin, so soft. He pulled her into his embrace and was hit with an alluring scent. She smells scent of pumpkins and vanilla. He did not realise until that moment that he had wanted to hold her in his arms; hold her close and protect her from harm.
They remained in silence until Hermione make a small comment.
"I think slow dances are sometimes easier to dance than fast, there's less chance for embarrassment," she remarked.
Harry nodded in response and remained silent. He just wanted to hold on to the moment.
After another wordless minute passed, Hermione could not contain herself and said, "It's your turn to say something, Potter. I remarked on dancing, you can say something about the number of people here, or the location and function of the rooms."
"Just tell me what to say, Granger, and I will say it."
Hermione blinked. His tone was … nice? Harry Potter was actually behaving pleasantly? What next, a Muggle Minister of Magic?
She answered in a posh tone. "That will do for now, Potter. Then I'll talk about how private balls are more pleasant than public ones. Now, you can respond."
"Do you always talk when dancing?"
Hermione looked at Harry then looked away, shrugging. She appeared to be looking and judging the other couples on the dance floor. "Some of us try to be agreeable to others, and not simply sulk and scowl."
Harry's back stiffened and he forced himself not to scowl, but it was oh so difficult. Did she just insult him, after he saved her just now? Well, he didn't really save her. He should have known Malfoy was full of crap, but still. This is the thanks he gets?
"I'm sorry; I was just teasing. I am grateful you asked me to dance. I shouldn't have responded by mocking you. I'm still trying to get a sense of you, actually." Until she said the words, Hermione did not realise that she actually was interested in Harry Potter; which left her both curious and confused.
"Really? And what have you learned so far?"
"Well, you do scowl and sulk quite a bit. But maybe it's a way of protection, to shield you from unwanted attention? Or you really do hate the world and everyone in it. Or maybe you just hate part of the world and everyone in that part?"
"Continue. This is fascinating," Harry replied.
Hermione continued, "You also told me before that once your opinion is formed, it does not change. I could imagine there would be quite a lot of reason to sulk and scowl then."
"Really? How do you imagine that?" Harry asked.
"Well, everyone at some point has done something quite stupid which they will regret. In your case, you would not forgive them, but remember and resent." She paused, waiting for her words to sink in. "So then, I'm amazed you have any friends at all, including your best friend, Ron. In your long relationship with him, even he has done something to upset you, but surely you forgave him?"
Damnable woman, thought Harry. Her logic had shown a spotlight on the holes in his argument.
"Perhaps your life has been mild enough that you can keep your good humour even when others disappoint," Harry answered with a snark. Why don't you just shut it, Potter? he thought. He was playing the I'm-the-Wizard-who-Defeated-Voldemort card, which meant he couldn't think of a decent response to her argument. And he knew she knew it.
Hermione raised an eyebrow. Now, this was the old Harry. This was the Harry she was accustomed to.
"Perhaps you have no idea what my life has been. And perhaps there are those who choose to see others in a more positive light, who prefer to go through life with the glass half-full instead of half-empty."
"And if the Ministry was full of those who saw the glass half-full, we would be living under the reign of Voldemort; and you would not be here, being Muggle born, but likely enslaved somewhere or staying in France at the very best."
Harry had not planned the fierceness of his words, and the shock on Hermione's face displayed her reaction to them. "I'm sorry, I-" he attempted to apologise.
"No, you've said enough and it is true. Let's just finish this dance," Hermione responded, no longer looking Harry in the eye.
She pondered what had just happened in the past three minutes. For a moment there, there was a nicer Harry Potter; the Harry Potter she had hoped he'd be when she first met him at the Puddlemere Gala. But, the real Harry Potter had returned. And the dance was not over yet.
For the remaining three minutes of the dance, they stayed silent, using only the bare amount of contact. Then, in very formal movements, they took their leave of each other; Hermione to Viktor's waiting arms and Harry to the bar for a Firewhisky.
After the dance, as Hermione and Viktor were in a heated discussion, Harry nursed his second drink and added words to their muted conversation:
"What did he do to you?" Harry poorly mimicked Viktor's deep Bulgarian voice. "Nothing! Just forget about it Viktor!" He then mimicked Hermione's higher pitched, French over English tones. "No, my dearest. I cannot forget! I must defend your honour!" "Oh no, dear Viktor! I'm woman enough to take care of both of us! Look, here's Neville and Padma, and let's talk to them and tell them, no, let's pretend nothing happened. Look! I'm laughing at a not very funny thing Neville said but I want to act as if I'm fine and I'm happy to be here and I did not just dance with Harry bloody Potter!"
"Harry, who are you talking to?" Ginny interrupted Harry's dialogue. He startled, then took a long drink from his glass.
"Nobody. Who did you think?"
"You were having quite a conversation there with Nobody. Nobody sounds like both a Bulgarian male and Frenchie female. A female with fine eyes, perhaps?"
Harry scowled at her and finished his drink, then firmly set it in front of the bartender. "Another Firewhisky." His tone was not an order, but not a request, either. The bartender complied immediately.
"Harry, you drink too much," Ginny protested weakly. Harry responded with a grimace, and another swig from the now refilled glass.
"I'm fine." His words did not match his tone.
"If you were fine, you wouldn't mind me doing this." Ginny then took the glass out of his hand and poured its contents into a nearby plant.
"Damn waste of Ogden's," Harry responded.
"Damn waste of someone's potential," Ginny echoed, looking directly at Harry. He looked away quickly.
Ginny stood beside Harry and they both looked at the happenings around them. Lav and Pav had invented a new game. No longer satisfied with playing catch with centrepieces, they now had their wands out, and had water arching from a sink over their heads. They were laughing and jumping up, splashing themselves, and many of the Quidditch players joined in. The floor became slick with water and the group soon began to skate across the floor in their stocking feet, often falling down, crashing into walls and laughing hilariously.
Ginny looked at Harry. "And these are the people you want to associate with?"
Just then, Susan Bones passed by, chatting with Hannah Abbott. "I'm sure Ron will propose any moment now. Everyone knows it. I heard that Seamus is taking wagers. I put down midnight tonight; Cormac has Sunday morning at 10am."
Harry and Ginny exchanged a look. Harry opened his mouth to say something, but Ginny pressed her finger against his lips. "Save it. There is no way my brother is going to marry into this … this freak show. And don't tell me you're enjoying this either. You're his best friend. You have to help me on this. This cannot continue. She doesn't love him; she's using him for his notoriety. And it's your duty as his best friend to end it. He'll listen to you; I'm just his kid sister. But you owe it to Ron to help me help him. I'll suggest that Ron take a break, and you can agree." Ginny looked around the room, found her target and smiled. "Phineas Knowles from the Chudley Cannons is over there. I think I can work with Phineas so Ron will get an offer he can't refuse."
Harry finally found the ability to speak. "Ginny, we can't just tell him not to fall in love."
"No, but we can show him the repercussions of his decisions." Ginny paused as one of the Quidditch players crashed into a pillar that held a vase, which Pav managed to save from breaking just in time. "And we can offer alternatives." She then looked at the Chudley Cannons owner who was talking animatedly to their new Seeker. "Just back me up."
"I'm not sure about this."
"I think you care more than you think about the Frenchie, or else you wouldn't be so upset."
"Did you think I may consider Luna my friend? She did accompany me to Slug's Club."
"That was years ago! Harry, this is for his own good. He'll thank us later, once he's over her spell. Trust me."
Ginny Weasley rarely said those last two words. He could not recall if she had ever said it before, but he felt that he had to trust her. He was too drunk to think rationally anyway (not that he necessarily thought rationally sober either).
"Harry," Ginny repeated, "trust me."
He nodded. He was too tired to think, and he had trusted Ginny's judgment. He loved her once, and knew that she was fiercely loyal to her brothers. He would do it. She was only looking out for Ron, whom they both cared for. He would, he could, do it for him.
***
Next chapter: Heartbreak.
(and if you haven't read or seen the original P&P, do so! Read the original, or see the 1995 BBC mini series or the 2005 movie.)
Please read and review!
BTW, I will be participating in the National Novel Writing Month starting Nov 1st. I have pledged to write a 50,000 word novel in 30 days. It'll be an original work, a chic lit about four friends in a book club, and their lives and loves in a year. That said, I may not be able to update here on ff that frequently, but I hope to every two weeks. Wish me luck! (I'll need it!)
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