12/23/2016
Author's Note: After six and a half months, it's a Christmas miracle! I am so so so sorry, but thank you so much for your patience, and especially thank you to Ha'niqua and Wordmover for beta-ing this chapter! More notes and credits will follow at the end of the chapter.

WARNING for attempted sexual assault in the form of some unwanted kissing and some above-the-clothes groping.

Chapter Fourteen: A Parisian Disaster

Ginny closed her eyes and tried to recall the taste of Draco's lips. Wine and fruit. She remembered, but she hoped if she concentrated hard enough, the flavor would return to her tongue. Maybe she could imagine the pressure of his mouth against hers into existence. Maybe she could conjure the sensation of his hands grasping her hips.

Instead, Junker's hot hand was a heavy weight on her knee, scorching Ginny through her work robes and the jeans she wore underneath them. Keeping her eyes closed, she put her hand on top of Junker's and shoved it off her leg. The cold window pressed into her forehead, and she moved her legs closer to the edge of her seat, as far away from her supervisor as possible. Even sitting in their own individual seats there wasn't enough space to move. Junker's elbow monopolized the armrest between them, using it to reach out to Ginny and run his finger along her arm.

She opened her eyes, her glare cutting. "Keep your hands off me."

"You really should be careful how you speak to me." He smiled, a delicate scold in the turn of his lips. "I'm taking you to Paris with me, showing you a city of art and culture the likes of which you've never experienced before."

Ginny grit her teeth. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"I'm giving you an opportunity and a gift. You should be more appreciative that someone wants to elevate you."

"So I'm poor and common and would never have thought to go to Paris if it wasn't for your generosity."

"You said it, not me."

Ginny bristled with anger at the pleased expression on Junker's face. She swatted his hand away from her arm and said, "Don't act like this trip was all your idea. The Ministry is paying for everything. You just needed someone to take Rose's place."

He shook his head, seemingly sad at Ginny's lack of comprehension. "Don't you see, Ginevra—" a disgusted shiver ran down Ginny's spine, her full name sounding foul on Junker's lips, "—I only said Rose and the others couldn't come because I knew you needed a little persuasion. You're much too proud to accept charity, and I didn't want you to feel like my generosity was a charitable act. Even if it was."

The chill that had gone down Ginny's spine turned into full-body trembling. Dread pooled in her stomach, and her body threatened to expel it. Retching all over Junker was out of the question; she couldn't display fear in front of him. She couldn't let him know he had any sort of power over her, not even over her body's involuntary responses.

Junker leaned closer, returning his hand to her knee again but moving it upwards, rubbing her thigh like he'd rub a bogey off his hand.

"I know you all too well. I want to give you the finest things life has to offer, but your adorable pride won't allow you to accept anything from me. You will, though. You'll come to your senses one day, and you'll see how I'm the best man for you. I look forward to seeing that realization in your eyes."

He sat back against his chair but left his hand where it was, rubbing Ginny's knee, massaging the lower part of her thigh.

Ginny didn't notice she'd stopped breathing until her throat felt tight and her eyes began to sting. Carefully, so carefully, she sucked air down into her lungs, trying not to let her breath hitch, trying not to let a sob escape. A sense of the inevitable overwhelmed her. It had been weeks since Junker had directed his attention to her, and it was a betrayal how she had forgotten the fear that came part and parcel with his presence.

She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the window, all her energy spent on controlling her breathing and stopping her tears. She had no energy left to worry about Junker's hand on her leg, and the worst part was: Junker knew it.

By the time they checked into their hotel, Ginny's stomach was mutinous in its hunger and nausea, and every muscle in her body ached from holding herself still for the entire two and a half-hour train ride. She barely noticed the layout of the hotel, how the lobby exited outside into a tight, enclosed courtyard, with rooms designed to simulate individual cottages situated around the perimeter like a quaint neighborhood. She locked herself into her room without a word to Junker, wishing only for the day to end.

Her head was beginning to pound, and only pounded harder when a knock sounded at her door, three minutes after falling on top of her bed.

Her heart pounded in time with her headache as she sat up and dragged herself to the door. She could have ignored the knock, pretended she was asleep, but, unfortunately, the cleaning staff had left the curtains open on the windows that looked out into the courtyard, and whoever was at the door could see directly into her room if they chose to take a peek.

Who was she kidding, though? She knew exactly who was at the door.

She opened it, leaving the chain latched to prevent him from pushing his way inside, and he smiled as if he didn't notice the chain bisecting his view of her face.

"Come on, Ginevra! Time for dinner now."

"I'm really not hungry," she lied. Thankfully her stomach played along and stayed quiet.

"No, no, I insist we have dinner together. It's our first night in Paris! The Eiffel Tower is a third of a mile away from our hotel, and it's a beautiful, crisp night. Get your shoes on, young lady."

Ginny, her body becoming all too familiar with the sensation of tight muscles, straightened her spine. "It's been a long day, Jason. I'm not really feeling well enough for sightseeing. I'll see you in the morning for breakfast."

She closed the door before he could argue with her, turned the only other lock, and double-checked the chain before shutting off the light. She stumbled through the dark to close the curtains, the sight of Junker's silhouette still standing in front of her door urging her to work faster. As soon as the curtains were closed, she huddled on top of the bed, curling her body into herself as she strained to hear either his footsteps walking away or her doorknob rattle.

Dammit. She'd forgotten the wards.

She dived for her discarded robes and removed her wand from an inner pocket, throwing a silent spell at the door and the windows to prevent Junker from magically entering her room. There was no evidence suggesting he would, but she felt safer knowing she'd done everything she could to deter him.

Half-crouched on the mattress, she waited, and then—finally—the sound of footsteps echoing off the cobblestone walk met her ears, and then the door to the room next door opened and closed. She released her breath as soon as silence descended once more and changed out of her jeans and jumper in the dark and into some pajamas.

She considered going out anyway, finding a nearby grocery store or a cafe and just ordering some food to go, but the fear that she might run into Junker on the street (and the fact that she had already taken off her bra and jeans) immobilized her.

She couldn't read or speak French anyway. If Draco had been there, she was certain he would have been able to feed her satisfactorily. The memory of the duck they'd eaten weeks ago at that first dinner where Draco had agreed to pretend to date her danced through her mind, making her stomach cramp with furious hunger pangs. For a moment, she wished she'd never left that note. Or wished she'd never threatened him to keep him in England. Part of her wondered if he would have come to her rescue, and part of her wished he would ignore her letter and do just that.

The other part, the nauseated part that fought with hunger for room in her stomach, was determined to do this on her own. She would get through this conference, she would keep Junker at bay, and she would figure out some way to stop him.

It was all too clear to her now that Junker had never lost hope of winning Ginny over. Either he hadn't fallen for her faux-relationship with Draco or he no longer cared that another man had a claim on her. Junker—the weasel, the snake, no! Something much worse than either of those animals: the leech, the Flobberworm, the Blast-Ended Skrewt!—had bided his time and waited patiently for an opportunity to arise when he and Ginny could be alone.

The idea that her faux-relationship had been for naught, that Junker couldn't be fooled or deterred, added a third sensation to Ginny's stomach: sinking disappointment.

She'd made a bargain with Colin: his help keeping an eye on Junker and reporting back to Ginny in exchange for her support when Colin reunited with Dennis. There was no point holding Colin to their deal anymore when Junker had never moved on to a new victim. The least Ginny could do now was help Colin set up a meeting with Dennis as she'd promised. As soon as she returned to London, she'd work on that.

Her eyes stung, and two lone tears leaked out of each eye, down the side of her face to her hairline where her temple pressed against the pillow. Suddenly, Ginny felt lost and alone. Once Colin reunited with Dennis, he'd move into Hogwarts to stay with his brother, and since Junker no longer cared about Ginny's relationship status, there was no reason for her to continue her make believe relationship with Draco.

They hadn't left her yet, but she already missed Colin and Draco immensely.

After checking in for the pre-conference workshops at the French Ministry, most of the next morning had been spent in a flurry of networking and information sessions, which meant, thankfully, that Ginny was never idle long enough for Junker to get her alone. While Jason attended presentations about administrative and managerial matters, Ginny sat in on whatever session looked vaguely interesting.

By lunchtime, she'd already learned more than she'd ever needed to know about an attempt in North America to harness the electricity from the storms produced by Thunderbirds as a form of renewable energy, the very suggestion of which had initiated a fistfight between the presenter and three people in attendance, leaving seven people with black eyes and/or bruised shins. And that had just been the first session of the day!

After Thunderbirds: Fowl Weather Friends or Source of Sustainable Energy?, Ginny hopped across the conference venue to a session on the sale of Class A Non-Tradeable Goods and how to step up security and handling procedures to prevent such goods from falling onto the black market. She left the session paranoid that her lax attention to the issue had single-handedly endangered wizards and Muggles alike worldwide.

By the end of the networking (read: snack) break that followed, Ginny had calmed down enough to remember that she didn't work with any tradeable goods in the Spirit Division, leaving her quite relieved when she attended her next session entitled Equal Employment Opportunity in the Regulation of Magical Creatures: an American Perspective. The title had struck her when she'd seen it in her conference program.

The moment she'd sunk into deep despair over her situation with Junker, she'd taken it upon herself to conduct research on Muggle laws and cases of sexual harassment. With certainty, Ginny would say that she was an expert on the discrimination laws within the United Kingdom. An opportunity to hear a session about equal employment and discrimination from someone outside the UK was one she could not pass up.

Ginny grabbed a seat at the beginning of the second row and looked around, surprised by the lack of attendance to what promised to be an informative presentation. She shouldn't have been surprised, though. If the Ministry in the United Kingdom had never addressed the issue of discrimination before, that suggested a lack of interest and concern about the issue. It should not have surprised her at all that the topic might be an unpopular one.

At the front of the room, a short, dark-skinned woman glanced at her watch. At exactly a quarter after the hour, she looked up and smiled, undaunted by the small turnout.

"Good morning, y'all," she said, her voice as warm as a Sunday lunchtime picnic. "My name is Glinda Whithurst, and I am the Compliance Officer for the Office of Equal Opportunity at the Federal Bureau of Magic, Southeastern Division. Today we're going to talk about equal employment opportunity laws in the United States: what they are, why they're important, and how we comply with them. We will also briefly touch on the consequences of noncompliance, which is something I specifically work with everyday. Before we begin, does anyone here know what I mean when I say equal opportunity?"

Ginny felt a bit like Hermione as she raised her hand, albeit lacking her friend's eagerness and confidence.

Glinda smiled and gestured at Ginny. "Yes, ma'am. Go ahead."

"In its most simple definition, equal opportunity means everyone is treated the same and protected from unfair barriers and prejudices that might allow for discrimination."

"That's exactly right! The equal employment opportunity laws in the States strive to prevent unlawful discrimination in the workplace based on these specific characteristics: age, race, color, national origin, sex, religion, disability, and blood status. My job is to make sure that all of the Bureau's branch offices in the Southeast Division uphold these laws to prevent discrimination and penalize the offices that do not comply.

"Now we need to define what is considered unlawful harassment. Does anyone have any ideas?"

Ginny's hand shot into the air faster this time.

"Harassment is considered unlawful when an employee is forced to endure it as a condition of their employment or when the harassment is severeand pervasive enough to create a hostile, intimidating, or abusive work environment."

"Yes," Glinda said. "You've clearly heard this before. Do you work in the Equal Opportunity field as well?"

Ginny shook her head and slid further down into her seat as her face burned.

"And what's your name?"

"Ginny Weasley."

Glinda turned back to the rest of the audience. "Ginny is absolutely correct. In order to be considered unlawful, the conduct in question must place conditions on another person's employment or the conduct must be severe enough and pervasive enough that a reasonable person would find the work environment abusive, hostile, or intimidating. Let me give you some examples from my own career."

Glinda cleared her throat and lifted her hands theatrically, clearly a born story-teller. Ginny, desperate to know that she was not alone in what she went through with Junker, leaned forward and listened intently. She had unfurled a piece of parchment and taken a quill out of her bag before the session began and now she waited with bated breath, both poised for notes that might help her in her own situation.

"The year was 1987 and yours truly was a rather naive twenty-year-old woman just entering the workforce for the first time. I'd been hired at a post office to deliver mail, but after three months there, I was still in the sorting facility filling bags. I hadn't delivered one parcel; I'd never been trained to.

"So I mentioned it to the postmaster, who told me I couldn't deliver mail because no one wanted a black lady delivering their packages. It was better for me and for the post office if I worked out of sight. I, of course, argued that I'd signed a contract to be a mail carrier. None of the other mail carriers were forced to work in the sorting facility, and none of the other sorters were restricted from helping customers at the front counter, either. Just me, because of the color of my skin. The postmaster didn't seem to care about my contract and told me if I wanted to keep my job, I would sort the mail without complaint.

"After speaking up, I endured a barrage of racist comments and snide remarks about my ungrateful and lazy attitude from the postmaster. Eventually, the situation escalated to sexual comments about my body, my time of the month, and the army of children I didn't actually have. The postmaster didn't know that. He just made assumptions about my promiscuity based on stereotypes. I endured this treatment for six more months before I finally quit and looked for a job elsewhere.

"In my case, a condition was placed on my employment: I couldn't work one-on-one with patrons and I couldn't deliver mail because of the color of my skin. The harassment I faced was also continuous and severe enough that my workplace became a threatening place for me."

An outraged voice from the back of the room spoke up: "If your laws are so great, why didn't they protect you?"

"I simply didn't know about them. I didn't know who to turn to. I thought the postmaster was as far up the chain of command as I could go. I never realized I could file a complaint with the Office of Equal Opportunity in my division."

"What happened to the postmaster?" Ginny asked, her heart in her throat. "Did he ever get in trouble?"

The sad smile adorning Glinda's lips stretched into one of triumph. "I'll have you know, a couple years later, that postmaster was fired specifically because of his conduct. It took three complaints from three different people, but the Bureau finally became aware of the discrimination and harassment employees faced from him and removed him."

Another woman in the front row asked, "Were you working for the Office of Equal Opportunity when he was fired?"

"I wasn't, but as soon as I came into a position to do so, I made annual trainings about the laws mandatory for all employees, so no one would ever be uninformed and feel as helpless as I did at the age of twenty. Now, let's talk some more about what we consider unlawful harassment, shall we?"

After the session, Ginny lingered in the room as Glinda packed up her display posters and collected the handouts that had been left behind.

"Oh, hello there, Ginny," Glinda said when she finally noticed Ginny loitering in front of the first row of chairs.

"I just had a question, if you don't mind."

"Not at all!"

"I was wondering… How did the wizarding community in America come to adopt these laws? How was the wizarding Office of Equal Employment Opportunity born? Which came first, the Muggle laws or the wizarding ones?"

Glinda laughed as she shrunk her display posters down to the size of a postage stamp and stuffed them into her purse before turning to the door and beckoning Ginny along. As they passed into the hall, another presenter came in to set up for her session, and a group of people waited outside the door.

"Muggles came up with the laws first, in 1964. The first laws were simply about racial discrimination, but as the years went on, activists fought for other characteristics to be protected by law as well. When the wizarding community finally adopted similar laws in 1984, we based them off what the Muggles had accomplished before us. From what I understand, the laws are essentially the same, except that we protect blood status as well as age, race, sex, etc. There's an outspoken faction of wizards that also want to include magical ability under the law, to protect Squibs. Those characteristics are obviously unique to the wizarding community."

Ginny stopped in the middle of the hall and turned to face Glinda, hope and desperation both driving her.

"How, though? How did the American wizarding community manage to put this system in place? How were the laws adopted? How were they accepted?"

"The same way the Muggles adopted the laws. A lawsuit was filed and the prosecutor won, setting a precedent for future cases of discrimination. In our case, a Muggleborn witch filed a lawsuit against her employer alleging racial discrimination and sexual harassment. The case went to trial, and a jury of her peers found the employer guilty. That case forced the Bureau to take discrimination and harassment seriously, and in less than two years, some bills were signed into law and the Office of Equal Employment Opportunity was born."

"Two years?" Ginny repeated, her heart sinking. She couldn't continue for two more years under Jason, waiting for legislation to be put in place. She didn't think she had the money or stamina to take her case to court, either. After the treatment Harry had received from the Wizengamot in 1995, Ginny just couldn't see her situation being taken seriously. She couldn't see Junker receiving a harsh enough punishment if convicted.

She had been hoping that seeing Glinda's presentation would fill her with optimism, and in a way it had because it was clear that a wizarding community could successfully borrow from the Muggle world where it mattered most. But the hope was overridden by despair. Ginny loved her job, but she didn't have time to wait for the process to work.

"Thanks for the information," she said after a belated moment. "I enjoyed your presentation."

Glinda smiled, patted her shoulder, and turned on her heel, leaving Ginny in the middle of the hall, alone and dejected.

She loved her job, but if Ginny couldn't find a solution soon, she couldn't see any other option but to leave it.

After a whirlwind day of information overload, Ginny looked forward to grabbing a bite to eat and returning to the hotel to relax, but there was still one more engagement she needed to attend before she could call it a night.

The welcome dinner and opening session of the conference provided a chance for attendees to socialize with one another in a more relaxed environment. Ginny had thought to skip the dinner altogether and take the opportunity to explore Paris a bit instead, but Junker had insisted on her attendance, and at the end of the day, networking was an integral aspect of the conference experience.

She only managed to enter the dining hall, Junker's hand hot and heavy on the small of her back, after reminding herself that making new work acquaintances would be useful when job hunting—if her situation came down to that unpleasant conclusion.

From the midst of a small group of people, Glinda Whithurst smiled and waved as Ginny and Junker passed, and then excused herself to join them. As soon as she approached, Junker's hand slid from Ginny's back around to her waist, pulling her in a little closer to Junker's side. He held her tight as she tried to squirm away, refusing to let her go.

Ginny's face burned in embarrassment, all too aware of the line of Glinda's gaze as she took in Junker's unprofessional hold. It didn't matter that Ginny was covered from neck to toe in professional and tasteful robes. Glinda's eyes made her feel as though she'd been caught in a state of undress with Junker's hand up her skirt.

"Hi there, Ginny," Glinda said, her smile firmly in place but brittle.

Ginny wanted to lower her eyes, hide her red cheeks and the shame that was written all over her face. Instead, cheeks blazing, she met Glinda's eyes and stiffened her spine, but there was something humiliating about her pride, too. She didn't want this woman to think Ginny was anything other than Jason Junker's employee, and she never wanted to give the impression that she was proud of his hands on her. But she couldn't bring herself to display her shame for all to see. She'd spent her whole first year of Hogwarts meek and fearful under Tom Riddle's influence. She refused to revert to her eleven-year-old self because of a man like Junker.

"Hi. This is my supervisor, Jason Junker. Jason, this is Glinda Whithurst. She presented in one of the sessions I attended this morning."

"An American!" Jason said, leaning closer with a conspiratorial smile. "How are you enjoying Paris?"

"About as well as the first time I visited, which is to say not as well as I enjoyed Rome, but better than Sydney."

Junker rolled his eyes. "Well, that's understandable. Australia is hardly a paragon of cultured or civilized society."

Glinda's smile became even more forced. "I enjoyed my stay there. It was just a bit too hot for me. May I borrow Ginny for a turn around the room?"

Ginny made sure the breath she released in relief when Junker let her go left her lips in silence, and pretended she didn't hear when he said with a chummy and obnoxious grin, "Just make sure to return her back to me."

Glinda nodded once and whisked Ginny away, slowing their pace only when they had put a good distance between Jason and themselves. They slowly weaved through throngs of people seeking available seats at the round dinner tables that littered the hall, strolling casually around the edge of the room and nodding and smiling in acknowledgement to people who greeted them in passing. Glinda didn't say a word to Ginny and hardly looked at her.

The butterflies in Ginny's stomach evolved into something larger and more ferocious the longer Glinda remained aloof toward her, until, finally, the nervous beast in Ginny's belly could take no more. She stopped abruptly at the corner of the stage that dominated the front of the hall and turned on Glinda.

"I know what you're thinking, and you've got it all wrong."

Glinda remained silent with her brows drawn together in disapproval, so Ginny, flummoxed by the lack of agreement or denial, continued talking.

"Jason doesn't understand boundaries, and I've tried everything I can think of to establish them with him. He doesn't listen. I'm not—I know how it looked, and I'm not his—I don't—"

"It's okay," Glinda said, her voice soft.

"No, it's not okay! None of it is okay. Nothing that has happened to me is okay."

Glinda was silent for another moment as Ginny seethed, her chest rising and falling with harsh breaths. The prickling of tears at the corners of her eyes exacerbated her frustration, so she turned around and closed her eyes, attempting to suck the moisture back into her tear ducts by sheer force of will.

"That wasn't what I meant, Ginny. Of course it's not okay. I want to apologize to you."

She hadn't successfully stemmed the urge to cry yet, but her shock forced her to face Glinda again.

"Earlier today, you came to me for help. I see that now. I thought you were simply curious; I hadn't realized there was more to your questions than you were saying. I'm sorry for not being more sympathetic this morning."

She pulled her purse around and dug through it. "Here, take my card. You've got a look in your eye that I don't like to see. Reminds me too much of my younger self. Take this, and if you need some advice, I'm your woman. I will never blame you or think badly of you."

Ginny took the card between numb fingers, barely noticing the navy blue cardstock or gold-embossed lettering. She glanced at it and then away, back at Glinda.

Insurgent tears fell down her cheeks, disobeying direct orders and heedless of the consequences of their actions.

"Only three people know this is happening to me, and they're all my friends," she said. "I didn't think anyone else would care or believe me."

"I do. This is how I make my living. This is my passion. I don't like seeing you or anyone like this. I know our governments and cultures are different, but I want to help in a nonprofessional capacity however I can."

Ginny's heart hammered against her ribs, a bead banging around the inside of a rattle in the grip of a hyperactive toddler. She took a moment to compose herself, to wipe her cheeks, steady herself with a few deep breaths.

"I do have one request."

"Name it."

"Don't leave me alone with him tonight?"

Glinda smiled slow and warm, comforting Ginny without putting her hands on her in a gesture that Ginny suddenly realized was significant and important.

"Done. Wherever you go, I'll go."

For the rest of the night, Glinda was Ginny's companion, accompanying her around the room, introducing her to acquaintances while both women met new ones. When dinner was served, she provided a buffer between Ginny and Jason by sitting between them and monopolizing Ginny's attention with conversation.

By the time they returned to the hotel at the end of the evening, Junker was in a foul mood made worse by the alcohol he'd imbibed with dinner. He hovered over Ginny as she pushed the key into the door of her room, and though she tried to hurry, tried to ignore him, his hot breath on the top of her head made her hands shake.

He slid an arm around Ginny's waist. "Ginerva," he slurred.

Every muscle in her body froze instantly. Suddenly, her breath came faster, though she swore she'd already stopped breathing.

"Ginny-Gin-Gin. You've teased me for long enough." His hand flattened against her stomach and pulled her against his body. Another hand snaked up her hip and along her arm, pushing aside the curtain of Ginny's hair. Wet lips lowered to the juncture where shoulder met neck, and Ginny shuddered in horror, her mind absolutely blank and unable to process what was happening.

Junker misinterpreted her body's reaction to his sloppy kisses and groaned. A moment later, he twisted her around in his embrace and shoved her against her own door, his mouth attacking hers.

"I always knew it would be like this," he said. "I saw the way you always smiled at me. I knew you wanted me as much as I wanted you."

"No!" Ginny's hands came up, trying to push him off her, but his arms were a cage and immovable. Even drunk, he overpowered her too easily.

Junker grabbed her wrists, pinning them to the door next to her head and kissed her on the mouth. Undeterred when she turned her head away, he simply kissed a path along her cheek and down her neck, leaving a slobbery trail on her skin.

Ginny's whole body trembled now. Tears poured down her cheeks. Why hadn't she made her wand more accessible? Why hadn't she left dinner before Junker? Why had she ever agreed to go on this trip? Why hadn't she been smarter or faster or stronger?

"No! Please!" she cried, twisting her wrists to try to loosen them from his iron grip.

"Yes, yes, beg me," he said, his head dropping lower, his kisses branding Ginny through layers of robes just over her racing heart and quickly detouring to her breast.

The door crashed open behind her, tossing Ginny onto the floor and ejecting Junker fifteen feet backwards. The astringent scent of a powerful, magical blast stung her nose as she scrambled to her feet and threw herself into her hotel room. A broken lock caused the door to swing back open, so Ginny threw herself against the door until she could locate her wand inside a hidden pocket of her robes to repair it.

Door fixed, locks engaged, wards set, Ginny then barricaded herself in the room. She stood the mattress upright, blocking both the door and the window. Only after the room was sufficiently secured did she fall down to the floor against a far wall and sob into her knees.

TBC

Author's Notes:

1. As you can probably tell, this story is not Fantastic Beasts-compliant. I've opted instead to call the American wizarding government FBoM, which originates from a comment by elvendork on a Tumblr post. (I can't link to it here, but there's a link to the particular post in my Author's Notes on AO3, or you can send me a message and I can send a link.) Non-magical folk are called Muggles in the US because I am unoriginal and didn't want to use no-maj. *shrug emoji*

2. Glinda Whithurst is from the American South and discusses American EEO laws because that's where I live and that's what I know. The information about these laws comes from the harassment training I'm required to complete annually for work.

3. No offense to Australia. I'm sure it's a lovely country, the wildlife from hell notwithstanding. :)

4. I am not completely happy with this chapter, but I needed to get it out, so if it's lackluster to any of you, just know it is even more lackluster to me. I will not make any promises about how soon the next chapter will be posted, but I've probably got about 1/3 - 1/2 of it complete. Thank you for reading, thank you again for your patience, and reviews appreciated! I hope everyone has a Merry Christmas (or a great weekend, if you don't observe the holiday) and a Happy New Year!

Sunny's Prompt #3:
Basic premise: Draco and Ginny start publicly dating for reasons other than actually liking each other.
Must haves: The pair put on a very convincing act even though they really don't like what they have to do...at least at first. The ruse goes on for a while and in the meantime they're learning more and more surprising things about the other. Humor.
No-no's: A dark or very angsty story.
Rating range: The higher the better, but ultimately up to you. I really don't mind.
Bonus points: Hogwarts Era. Draco and Ginny get competitive about one-upping each other to show how they're the best girlfriend/boyfriend ever, and when no one is looking they snipe at each other about how lame/stupid their 'romantic' act was or snark together about how ridiculous everyone else is to think that said gesture was so romantic. E.g. "If I actually came home to that and you were my real boyfriend, I'd bloody kill you."