Dear Wonderful Readers,
See? I told you not to give up on me. ;) Here is another update (3rd Sept.) nearly 3 months sooner than what has become the typical 6-7 month hiatus. Holy Harry, a lot has happened since 18th May 07. The Order of the Phoenix movie was released (and what a film it was!) along with the 7th instalment of our favey book series. All in all, a summer I doubt we'll forget for a rather long time.
DEATHLY HALLOWS SPOILER ALERT! Though it's been about a month and half since Deathly Hallows was, at last, given to the world, I still struggle to comprehend all that happened within its pages. Even though it's become my new favey novel, and BLIMEY did I get a lot of predictions right!!!, nothing will shake my feeling that it was rather a blood bath when looking at the amount of deaths that occurred. Don't get me wrong—I'm inexpressively grateful that Harry came back, just as I thought he would.
Maybe I wouldn't feel such loss if so many of my most cherished characters hadn't been killed (Fred, Lupin, Tonks), but I felt it was quite deceptive of Jo to let people think only 2 main characters would die. Not by the furthest stretches of the imagination was that anywhere close to the truth.
Quite honestly, no book—except for perhaps writing my own—has ever wrenched such strong and genuine emotions from me. So much of my own life has become wrapped up in the Potter series that it's no longer just pretend—I love the story and characters as if they were real and tangible.
Now! The following chapter's contents (at least most of them) have been planned for such a ridiculously long time that it took me less than half a day to actually type the thing up (and there's a whopping 4300 words in it, not including the A/N!). Some of you early-early fans may recognise this from its first and primitive title, The Dating Game. I yanked that fic from the server over 2 years ago now, in anticipation for upcoming chapters in HGC.
Let us rejoice in its completion, cos it's about bleedin' time I posted the thing! Longest A/N ever?? Whew!
Please, please enjoy, Rae
P.S. I never beg for reviews, but I've truly had a helluva time with my life and creative muse, so I humbly ask you to leave me some words of encouragement. They help me more than I can ever express. Thanks again.
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It wasn't just failing to visit Fred and George's joke shop that irked Harry about his last trip to Diagon Alley. Nor was it his encounter with the incisive Mr. Finkle. Harry simply wanted his old wand in working order again. The plan was to bring his broken holly wand back to Mr. Ollivander to repair, but even before Harry and his friends left for their trip, the Daily Prophet had reported the old wandmaker had gone missing.
For the time being, Harry attempted travelling with one of the dozen or so wands that various wizardfolk had sent him when he was recovering in the hospital. Generous though the gift-givers were, their choice of wands still didn't suit the young wizard at all. Of course, Harry couldn't truly use them yet since he wasn't currently at school. That didn't stop him from trying some standard spell flourishes with them, however. None of the wands sent to him responded anything close to how his phoenix feather one did. Some of the wands were definitely more "friendly" to Harry's style of magic. Someone had sent him one of cherry wood with hippogriff feather core—a rather temperamental wand indeed, as it appeared to demand constant polishing and being handled with utmost respect.
It reminded Harry vividly of how he'd tried out virtually all of the wands in Ollivander's shop—each attempt more disastrous than the last. Harry's eclectic sunglasses thankfully allowed him to detect if any destructive things would happen before they happened. Briefly handling new, untested wands could evidently be quite tricky.
Even this activity grew tedious, unfortunately. The biggest reason why was due to the heat. Harry stared listlessly up at the ceiling in Ron's bedroom, absentmindedly making swish-and-flick motions with the least aggressive of his new wands. Crab-apple wood and niffler claw core made for a pairing that seemed to be abnormally attracted to heaps of earth and dirty laundry.
Ron was throwing a Blasting Ball at the ceiling. It was one of the inventions Fred and George had gifted Harry with, and Harry had no issues whatsoever with giving Ron his extra toys. A Blasting Ball was unique in the fact that each time it hit something, it would make a spectacular noise and display by exploding, then unexplode, only to return completely intact back to the person who threw it.
However, after about the five hundredth time of thump-BOOM, Hermione irritatedly threw down the book she was reading, snatched the ball out of the air, and took off down the stairs, muttering angrily to herself.
Propping his elbows on his cot, Harry watched her disappear, then shot a look at Ron, who was looking down at him from the bed. Ginny lifted her eyes from the knitting she wasn't getting done and glanced at them both. Then they all shrugged and continued on what each had been doing, which was, precisely, nothing.
It had been wonderful to go back to the Burrow. The Weasleys had gone out of their way to welcome he and Hermione back. The surroundings were infinitely more homey and welcoming than anything the Dursleys had ever, albeit grudgingly, provided him.
Though it was a wizard house, one could still get bored stupid. It was so stiflingly hot, it felt to Harry as if he were slowly melting into a puddle by midday. This summer was turning out to be more unbearable than last, at least heat-wise. His skin was sweating almost constantly, making his clothes stick to his body. Harry had given up the now-useless activity of pushing his glasses further back on his nose, as his face was so slick the frames would slide straight back down again.
Looking much less disgruntled, Hermione returned to the bedroom, Ron's toy in hand.
"Sorry, but that was much too annoying," she explained, "so I went and had Mrs. Weasley put a Silencing Charm on it. Try it now," she said, walking forward, tossing it back to Ron, and resituating herself in a corner by the door.
Aiming for the same general spot as before, Ron threw the ball and it hit the ceiling; they all watched it blow itself into oblivion, reintegrate, and fall back in his hand, all without making a sound.
"Much better," Hermione proclaimed with satisfaction. "Your mum wants to refit some robes on you, Ron. She said to send you downstairs." She cast an oddly furtive look in Ginny's direction, which Ginny returned.
Sighing, Ron heaved himself off the bed and strode out the door, mopping his face on his arm.
"Finally," Ginny said loudly, "we get you two apart."
"What?" Harry said, sitting up and leaning up against the wall under the window.
Hermione stood up again, shut the door, sat back down, suddenly becoming intently interested with tracing patterns on the carpet.
"Well," Ginny continued, "we figure since we're all sick of my arguing with Ron over my love life, it was time to formulate a plan of action," she said matter-of-factly.
This was interesting. Along with the heat, the singularly most unpleasant thing about being around the Weasleys had been the shouting matches between Ron and his sole sister. Ever since Ron discovered Ginny had been going out with various boys at Hogwarts instead of Harry, Ron had taken every opportunity to remind her how young she was, and pointed out endless faults in the guys she had chosen to date.
At first the exchanges had been hardly more than typical bickering, but by the time they returned to the Burrow, the rows had escalated to such a decibel level the rafters were doomed to shake apart with noise. The biggest reason for this was that whenever anybody started raising their voices, all the animals in the house would start yowling and screeching in protest, and the ghoul in the attic would join in the ruckus by banging on the walls and pipes. In a fit of desperation, Mrs. Weasley threatened to sell the whole lot of them as oddities to some shopkeeper in Knockturn Alley if they couldn't keep quiet.
"Sounds brilliant," Harry said, "how can I help?"
"Funny you should ask that," Ginny said brightly, glancing meaningfully again at Hermione, who continued tracing carpet. "We thought the best way to end the fights was to trick Ron into thinking you and I were, erm...going out, Harry."
"Hmmm," was all he said.
Harry contemplated this. It wouldn't be very easy—for him, anyway. Everybody already knew that Ginny had been keeping in contact with Michael Corner since before the end of last term, and that Harry hadn't bothered with Cho since she started going out with somebody else. Unless Ginny and Hermione were thinking of another girl, such as one of the Patil twins...
"Well, Ron obviously knows you still fancy Michael, given all of your arguments," Harry said, "but who do you plan on telling him I'm going out with? And how would me going out with a girl help him quit yelling at you anyway?" he asked.
Ginny made a sound of impatience and narrowed her eyes.
"You can't really be that dense, can you?" she said, quite mystified. Continuing much more patiently, "I was talking about us, Harry—you and me—dating."
"What? You mean, each other?" he said stupidly.
Rolling her eyes heavenward, Ginny shook her head and grinned as she stood up and started pacing the little patch of floor beside the bed.
"Astonishing as it may sound, yes," she replied sardonically. "Remember how on the train back home how I let slip to Ron I was going out with other boys, but Ron said he thought I fancied you? And he seemed okay with it?" Ginny asked eagerly.
Harry had little idea where the girl's query was leading and his left eyebrow rose of its own accord as he mulled over it.
Taking Harry's silence as affirmation, Ginny ploughed on, still throwing occasional looks at Hermione, who was now picking at the carpet piling. Ginny's lips thinned briefly at the other girl before speaking again.
"We thought if Ron were led to believe there was something between us," she held out both hands, "it would end the ongoing row between he and I. Simple solution: Pretend to date the only boy Ron approves of, and we'll all be free of the annoyance," she said happily, facing Harry again.
The left side of his mouth had unconsciously followed the eyebrow while he watched Ginny give her explanation. Though he'd never say it to her, Harry didn't mind a bit about "pretending" to go out with Ginny—at first. Unfortunately, his chief concern quickly overrode this fantasy scenario. Would her plan jeopardise Harry's friendship with Ron?
Contrary to Ginny's claim, Harry didn't see anything simple about this scheme. The only other time he could recall coming up against a plan so fraught with dangerous possibilities was when he, Ron, and Hermione had pulled off their Polyjuice Potion stunt back in 2nd year. Then something occurred to him. Hermione and Ginny had to be putting him on. That would certainly explain Hermione's odd behaviour at the moment.
Harry snorted, smiling and nodding appreciatively.
"Good one," he confessed, "really had me going for a bit. Now I've got one for you. Why don't we have Hermione nip on over to Malfoys and ask Draco out?" he asked, lacing his fingers behind his head and leaning back against the wall. "That way, it might stop she and Ron from having a go at each other all the time too," he finished sarcastically.
That finally got a reaction out of Hermione; she arose while making a sound of indignation and winged one of her heavier books in Harry's direction. He closed his eyes, ducked, and threw his arms out in front of himself protectively. No doubt due to reflexes born of his Quidditch training, Harry managed to catch the book about half an inch from his face. Setting it back on the floor, he looked back up at Hermione.
"Tut, tut," Harry admonished, waggling a finger at her, "there's no need to get so shirty with me—only joking, you know," he grinned.
Hermione shook her head and smiled widely in spite of herself. Ginny looked over at her and shook her own head, an entirely different expression on her face.
"I never would've believed it possible," Ginny said, half-amused, "but you were apparently right."
Sure he missed something, Harry looked back to Hermione and asked, "Right about what?"
"What she's trying to say, Sir Harry James Potter, Boy Wonder and D.A. Extraordinaire," Hermione began without rancour, "is that while you are indeed sensitive and gifted in many ways, you still remain shockingly uninformed about women."
Harry's cheeks flushed slightly and he looked away. But as Hermione obviously didn't intend the observation in a mean-spirited way, he determined to keep the conversation carried on the light-hearted tone it started with.
"Yeah, well, thank you so much for pointing that out," he said, not entirely feigning annoyance and playing along, "but that's not exactly a secret, is it? I mean, I could've told you that anytime—all you had to do was ask. Besides, it's not like I haven't tried to remedy that situation," Harry defended. "I just had the misfortune of being attracted to the only girl who stayed an emotional basketcase the whole year," he pointed out.
"She wasn't a basketcase," Hermione corrected, "but you were unfortunately around to be in a rebound relationship with her," she said knowingly, as if Harry were supposed to know what it meant.
"A what?" he said dubiously.
"You know, a rebound relationship," Hermione repeated with an air of impatience. "One in which a person is tragically or suddenly separated from their partner for whatever reason, and becomes too quickly involved with another. The biggest reason why they do this," she continued, oblivious to Harry's growing incomprehension, "is they either want to make their ex-partner jealous, or they're trying too quickly to fill the gap in their lives that the other person left. They don't allow their emotions to heal properly first."
Harry gawked at her, thunderstruck. This "rebound" stuff didn't sound good...not good at all. It made it seem as if Cho's kissing him had meant nothing to her. Like she had been...using him as a substitute for Cedric Diggory. Realising Hermione had stumbled upon a distasteful and rather painful topic, Harry tried to salvage the conversation the only way he knew how. Have an abrupt change of subject.
"So," he said and cleared his throat, "what's all this got to do with the plan for stopping your row with Ron, anyway?" he asked Ginny.
"Isn't it obvious?" she said unhelpfully.
Harry groaned in exasperation and began drumming his fingers across his knees. He didn't know whether it was extreme heat, residual injury, mental stress, or some combination thereof, but he wasn't much in the mood for dealing with girlish games at the moment. And he wasn't shy about letting Hermione and Ginny know how he felt.
"Suppose for once," he began tightly, "that your train of thought isn't easy to track," now he gestured at Ginny, "and suppose for once that the addle-brained male," he pointed at his head and whirled his finger in circles, "needs to have all the details explained to him—in order," he finished firmly, sticking out his tongue and crossing his eyes.
Ginny and Hermione promptly burst into gales of laughter and collapsed on the floor because of the goofy look on his face. Before long, Harry found himself joining in and they all rolled around on the floor together until they were totally breathless, tears streaming from their eyes, and holding stitches in their sides. Due to the heat, this took a surprisingly short time.
"Okay, okay," Ginny gasped, "fair enough. Sorry we were a bit short with you," she said politely as they all picked themselves up off the floor and sat cross-legged, facing each other.
Harry inclined his head to show he accepted her apology.
"The reason why your, er, lack of knowledge about women is important," Ginny began more delicately, "is it will work to our advantage. That's because Ron's loads more gormless about girls than you are Harry, so it should make our plan that much easier to carry out."
Well, that explains that, thought Harry. He felt an urge to stick up for Ron, even if what Ginny said was painfully true about he and girls.
"That still doesn't explain how we're going to pull this 'going out' thing off. Besides, I don't think even Ron could be that thick," Harry said loyally.
"Excuse me, but that's where you're dead wrong," Ginny scoffed, a nasty smile spreading across her features. "We're talking about a person who's singular romantic experience was being de-trousered by his intended girl in front of the entire audience at the community children's Christmas performance," she said revealingly.
Hermione's hand flew to her mouth and she stifled a giggle; Harry felt his jaw drop. His first inclination was to press Ginny for details. This was something Ron hadn't even hinted at during their entire friendship. Then again, Harry's personal experiences with girls had been hardly stellar, so he decided to keep his mouth shut.
"Speaking of Ron, shouldn't he be back by now?" Harry said, looking over at the door.
He also noticed Hermione had become mostly silent again and was playing with the hem of her shirt.
"Oh, you don't need to worry about him," Ginny said as she waved a hand dismissively, "Mum's keeping Ron busy—she's covering for us."
Suddenly suspicious, Harry blurted, "Covering for us? Is there anybody who wasn't involved in planning my role in Ron's deception before I knew about it?" he demanded, a new edge to his voice.
"Ron wasn't," Ginny said sweetly with a simpery smile on her face, batting her eyelids rapidly. Harry's anger dissolved instantly and he sniggered at her silliness. "Anyway," she continued, "Mum doesn't know about this. She thinks we're up here talking to you about...something else..." her voice trailed off as she and Hermione darted another glance at one another.
"Oh no, you two," Harry said, wearily pinching the bridge of his nose, "if you're going to insist on my involvement in this, I insist you tell me everything. So out with it!" he ordered. "Please."
"We may as well," Ginny signed, resigned. "Do you remember Fleur Delacour?"
"Yeah," Harry nodded at her, "not that easy to forget, is she? Are she and Bill still dating?"
Ginny fixed a smirk on her faced and nodded vigourously. "Yes, they are definitely that," she said. "In fact, they like dating each other so much that Bill asked Fleur to marry him and--" she leaned forward pointedly, "--she said yes."
Harry's eyes widened as he turned over this latest bit of information. This was certainly a complicated development. While he was glad that Bill and Fleur would be happy together and deserved congratulations, undoubtedly someone at the Burrow would not feel the same way. Although he questioned the wisdom of the Weasleys withholding news of the engagement from Ron, he could hardly blame them for doing it. Once he found out, Ron's reaction was going to be anything but pretty. A range of emotions flitted across Harry's face as he went through this thought process, finally settling on a pained expression.
"I know," Ginny said sympathetically, watching him, wearing a similar look on her own features. "If you think it's going to be hard for us, just imagine what Mum and Dad have been going through trying to keep this from Ron. It's bad enough trying to help the happy couple plan the details of their joyous event from overseas. Random people calling out 'congratulations' whenever we go out, sending letters by owl post—Mum's been driven about spare," she said glumly. Hermione was now mirroring the other's strained expressions.
"What makes it so terrible," Ginny went on, "is this shouldn't have to be kept quiet. Engagements are happy occasions and the news should be shouted from the rooftops as far as I'm concerned." Then she dropped the bombshell. "But the worse part is they need to keep this charade up for a year, because Bill and Fleur aren't getting married until next summer," she said, as Hermione and Harry moaned in dismay.
"I wish my parents would just let me tell Ron now so he could get used to the idea, but Bill insists the best way is not to tell him at least till the end of first term," she said miserably. "Instead, we get to do the next best thing," she continued, instantly shaking off the gloom.
"And that is?" Harry blinked up at Ginny in a daze, dizzy with her manic changes of attitude.
"Distract Ron from Mum, Dad, Bill, and Fleur with our brilliantly planned scheme!" she finished, as if this were the most obvious answer in the world.
"But...but I thought that was to prevent Ron from yelling you about your love life," Harry responded, mind awhirl with confusion.
"Yes, yes," Hermione agreed quickly, "but it's designed to both distract him and stop the shouting between he and Ginny," she said pedantically, as if she were explaining this to a lack-witted chimpanzee with a hearing problem.
Now Harry was totally jumbled up over the matter. Never dreaming it possible, he had just witnessed each and every one of their disjointed topics of conversation be tied into one circuitous loop. Everything from Bill and Fleur, to Ron and Ginny, to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had been amassed by Hermione into one horrific jumble. Attracted as Harry was to Ginny, no other description remained for such a chain of events. This was simply insane.
"Ginny kept using the words 'we', 'us', and 'our' when describing this crazy plot," he said, now turning toward Hermione's less-than-forthcoming form. "But surely you didn't have anything to do with the planning?" he questioned, desperately needing someone to agree with his assessment of the situation. "I mean, you've been awfully quiet," Harry added hopefully.
Ginny made a loud sound of protest as Hermione looked off to the side.
Hermione bit her lip and mumbled, "Actually, it was my idea."
"All of it?" Harry asked, aghast, his vision of support fluttering away as a hippogriff into the sunset.
"Yes, all of it," she answered defensively.
Harry shook his head at them. "No offence," he whispered, "but you're both mad! It'll never work."
But Hermione's confession seemed to have loosened her tongue at last. "Oh, quit being so negative," she snapped. "We're not mad, and it's a perfectly good plan if you'd just give it a chance. After all, it's what Bill wants. And apparently, what he says goes."
"It's not like we've got a better alternative anyway, "Ginny reminded them cynically.
Harry opened his mouth to disagree but thought twice after glimpsing the insane gleam in their eyes. Obviously the girls had made up their minds about getting him in on this and there was no backing out of it.
"Fine," he said, gritting his teeth and hating himself, "what do we do?"
"Well," began Ginny, "we figured telling Ron that I'd had enough with Michael, something about not wanting to carry on a long-distance relationship. Maybe add in that I discovered Mike was a cheeky sort anyway—that type of stuff—Ron'll eat it up. We shouldn't really need to go into much more detail than that. Just that you and I sort of...noticed each other..." she trailed off lamely.
"Besides," Hermione picked up, " all you need is practise. I'll pretend I'm Ron," she said helpfully, positioning herself in front of Harry. "So," she said in a deeper tone to badly mimic Ron's voice, "have you, er...snogged Ginny yet?"
Harry made a strangled noise in the back of his throat. "Ron would never ask that!" he protested loudly. "Ginny's his sister, that's sick!"
Ginny commenced sniggering uncontrollably.
"Okay, okay," Hermione answered quickly, "we'll try it again." Clearing her throat, she said in her fake Ron voice, "So, how come you never wanted to date Ginny before?"
"Erm—" Harry began, his throat suddenly dry, "because she was younger...before..." Hermione nodded encouragingly, "...and sort of—titchy," he added, studiously not looking in Ginny's direction. Now it was her turn to become strangely silent.
"A bit better," Hermione said, "but let's have another go." Adopting her false Ron-tone once more she said, "So how d'you like her compared to Cho?"
"Well...I dunno..." Harry said unsteadily, "Ginny's better...I s'pose...because...she's easier to talk to." Except for right now, he thought ironically. "And," he added on blessed inspiration, "she never had sneak friends who ratted us all out like Marietta Edgecombe."
"Oooh, that's good!" Hermione exclaimed happily, clapping her hands.
Taking a deep breath, Harry calmed himself; he never realised how shallowly he had been breathing. After Hermione's latest reaction, he felt marginally better about this whole idiotic thing. He hazarded a look at Ginny and instantly regretted it.
"Sort of titchy, am I?" she said coldly, standing up and boring her eyes into his. So that's it, thought Harry. He held out his hands pleadingly. "No, of—of course not! It—it was just an expression," he stammered an explanation, "j-just a word I chose to fill in the blank—"
"Yeah," Hermione said supportively, "after all, we made him do this—he didn't want to. And anyway," she added in a more hopeful tone, "weren't we all titchy when we were younger? It's just something you do when you're small..."
Ginny's lips trembled.
Merlin's shorts, no! Harry gasped in horror, please don't let her cry, please don't—
Instead of tears of sadness, however, Ginny doubled over with an outburst of raucous laughter. "You—you should see the looks on your faces!" she shrieked as Hermione and Harry glanced darkly at each other.
Hermione pursed her lips at him, he raised his eyebrows at her, both concluding there was only one action left to take with Ginny. After all, his honour had been at stake—now was no time to be the gentleman. Being only children, Harry and Hermione never knew an older sibling's ultimate retaliation against a younger one until they had stayed with the Weasleys; the worst punishment was tickle torture. And Ginny was extremely ticklish.
Ginny fell backward to the bed, laughing so hard she could no longer stand. Harry crawled to the side of the bed nearest him and pinned her arms to the mattress. Simultaneously, Hermione rushed to Ginny opposite him and began tickling her all over. Ginny kicked and wriggled, nearly getting free twice, but she was too busy laughing to really put in much effort. Currently, Harry and Hermione weren't faring much better, as they were again succumbing to massive giggle fits.
"You three sure are a noisy lot," called a deep voice from the hallway.
They all froze and caught each other's eye. Ron strode into the room with a bemused smile on his face. Oi, we certainly look like we've been doing something dodgy, Harry noticed, as they all faced Ron with wide-eyed guilty looks. Which, until the tickle fight, we had, he realised ruefully upon reflection.
The three quickly stood up, trying and failing to assume an air of easy nonchalance. Apparently, so caught up in their fun, they hadn't even noticed Ron stumping up the stairs, let alone having opened the door. An uncomfortable silence stretched between them. Someone say something, Harry thought desperately, or this is going to get really embarrassing...
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Okay, I tried asking nicely. But this is royally starting to piss me off. It should be no secret that I am an above average writer, and I never submit stuff that isn't enjoyable to read. I've got 700 hits on this story in the last 20 hours (since I submitted an update) yet only ONE of you has left me a review. Obviously people are enjoying my work. I write for free, so I'm going to stop short of demanding reviews. While technically, I do write for myself, it's just downright disgusting that the only person who's said anything is my best mate. I don't care if what you have to say is good or bad--the only way good stories move up the ranks is by number of reviews. So put yourself in a fic author's place and have some common decency, for the love of Potter. Leave reviews for the stories you read. It's only fair.