The mild smut (I promise there will be much more) you have all been waiting for begins... NOW:

"You're a cheater!" Lenore screeched as Margaux grinned without shame.

"Maybe I'm just a better player."

"Or maybe you mark the Old Maid so you can tell which card not to grab."

Margaux shrugged. "I guess we'll never know."

"I KNOW!" Lenore said, throwing the cards towards Margaux. She threw them back, making Lenore even more mad. After a few rounds of throwing things at each other, Lenore started to laugh along with Margaux.

"Lenore!" their mom called. "Your phone is ringing!"

"Okay, I'm coming!"

Lenore sprinted down to the dining room, where her phone was sitting on the table. She looked at the caller ID and noticed it was Neville. She picked up the phone, clicked the green button, and said warmly, "Hi, Nev."

"'Nev', huh? That's so cute I want to barf."

The voice was not Neville. "Dean?"

"You got it," he stated.

"How can I help you?" Lenore asked.

Dean glanced back at Mrs. Dubinsky chatting with Neville at the front door. "I wanted to invite you to a little get-together at my place Saturday night. A back to school celebration. Margaux is invited too, of course."

"Of course," Lenore rolled her eyes. "Is this like a party?"

"It is," Dean said. "My family is out of town."

"My parents are super strict," Lenore whispered after she made sure her mom and dad were out of earshot. "There's no way Margaux and I could get away with going to a party."

"Just say you're staying over at Katie's house. She's coming."

"What about Margaux?"

"I invited Luna and Ginny. And I think that Derek bloke is coming, as far as I know."

Lenore pondered a minute. "Let me talk to Margaux."

She went up to her room, phone in hand, to see Margaux shuffling the deck of cards. She closed the door.

"Margaux, how would you feel about going to a party at Dean's house?"

Her eyes grew wide. "Mom and Dad would kill us."

"We tell them that we're staying over at Katie and Luna's houses."

"Margaux! Margaux!" The sisters could hear Dean shouting, so they put him on speakerphone.

"Our mums are friends, so whatever you do, don't tell them you're coming over here. Say you're both going to Katie's."

Margaux thought a moment. She glanced up to her sister. "Let's go. I haven't been to a party in ages."

Lenore raised her eyebrows. She expected Margaux to say no.

"Great!" Dean said. "See you there around 9pm."

It took a bit of convincing and some truth-stretching, but Mrs. Henry finally let her two daughters go with the promise to be home from "Katie's house" before midnight.

With that threat, Lenore and Margaux took off for Dean's house a few streets over. They met Katie Bell at her port key the other direction down the block.

"I'm not drinking tonight," Katie said. "So, you two won't be the only sober ones."

"I'm sure Neville won't drink," Lenore said.

"I don't think Seamus will drink, either," Margaux joked.

After the uproar of laughter, Katie said "Seamus will drink like a man frantically searching for something at the bottom of each glass."

When they arrived at Dean's house, after walking down some back alleys to avoid their own street, they were greeted by George Weasley. He seemed to be the bouncer.

"Hey ladies," he said. "Lenore, haven't seen you around the shop yet."

Lenore grinned. "I'll be around eventually."

"Time's running out," the boy replied.

"Soon. Hey, is Angelina coming tonight?"

"How should I know?" George said quickly, with an obvious change in his voice. "You're her friend."

Lenore laughed. George was so funny about Angelina. He obviously liked her, but he pretended like he did not. "See you later, George."

As soon as they walked in the door, music was blasting. George must have cast a noise-reducing spell on the outside of the house. People were everywhere. It looked like a frat party in the Hollywood movies Lenore watched, which was odd because most kickbacks she and her sister attended were small and uneventful. This, however, was a full-on rager. The entryway opened to a large living room. Strobe lights flashed and all the walls had a strange dark blue light shining on them. The floors vibrated from people jumping.

"Ginny!" Margaux called her friend over.

Ginny turned around and waved. "Margaux! I didn't expect you here!"

"I thought this was a small party!" Margaux shouted over the music.

"I thought so, too! I don't think Dean expected this many people. There's probably about a hundred here!"

"Who else is here?"

"I'll show you around!" Ginny shouted.

Margaux and Ginny ran off to find their friends. Lenore and Katie went to the dance floor. They found Alicia Spinett and chatted. After dancing to about three songs, Lenore noticed how bored everyone looked. She glanced up at the second floor walkway above the living room that Dean was DJ'-ing from. The songs Dean was playing were pretty lame. Wizard music was pretty lame in general.

"Are you all having a good time?" Dean shouted into his wand, which projected his voice like a microphone.

A weak cheer came from the audience.

"DEAN!" Lenore shouted, cupping her hands around her mouth. "PLAY SOME MUGGLE MUSIC!"

"What's this?" Dean announced, cupping his hand to his ear. "Is Lenore challenging me to a DJ-off?"

The crowd drunkenly yelled and applauded.

"Get up here, Lenore!"

Lenore was suddenly embarrassed she had screamed, but she ran up the stairs.

"You think you can play better music?" Dean said into his wand.

"I know I can."

She heard Katie cheer her on, followed by quite a few other people.

"You can try," Dean said, handing her his wand.

"Alright y'all," Lenore said in an attempt to sound like the American DJs she grew up listening to. "The new theme of this party is 'Muggle Music from the 80s'. Dean and I are going to introduce you to a whole other world. Except you Muggle-borns. Everybody always shits on you, but this is your chance. SHOW US YOU KNOW WHO CYNDI IS!"

With that, Lenore grabbed the CD player and put on "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun." The crowd went wild, jumping up and down to the beat.

After the song ended, Dean laughed. "You really want to do this, Henry?"

"Just pick a song, Thomas."

Dean put on "Push It" by Salt n Peppa. Again, the crowd danced wildly. Lenore flipped through Dean's music player. "You realize the drunker they get, the less choosy they will be?"

"That's why I intend to play the last song."

She shot him an amused glance, then turned back to his music player. "I can't believe you don't have this song…"

"What song?"

"'Come on Eileen' by Dexy's Midnight Runners."

"Never heard of it."

"Yes you have! You danced to it at that wedding!"

Lenore searched for the song over all his CDs and finally found it. The song blasted over the speaker and as the chorus crooned, Dean said, "Ohhhh, I remember this song!"

After Dean played "Safety Dance," Lenore countered with "Wake Me Up Before You Go Go". "Pump Up the Jam" was the biggest hit so far, when everyone formed a circle and watched a dance-off between Seamus and Angelina Johnson, who ended up attending the party and fully enjoying herself.

"GUYS!" Seamus shouted as he barreled up the staircase after his dance-off. "THIS MUSIC IS SICK! IS THIS WHAT MUGGLES LISTEN TO?"

"I listened to this stuff when I was growing up," Lenore said.

"Me, too," Dean added.

"KEEP IT UP! EVERYONE LOVES IT!"

Lenore watched him turn around and almost spill his beer down the stairs. Dean hopped up and grabbed Seamus's arm to stop him from losing balance. "Careful there, mate!"

"HEY LENORE!" Seamus said, spinning around again. "HAVE YOU SEEN NEVILLE YET?"

"Not yet."

"When you see him, he wants you to snog his brains out!"

"Alright, bye Seamus!" Dean said, shoving him down the staircase.

Lenore knew Dean must have been able to see her embarrassment, even in the dark hall walkway. He sat down next to her and said quietly, "Seamus shouldn't drink."

Lenore grimaced. "I hope you haven't told him any of your secrets, or he'll spill them like he just did Neville's."

Dean smiled, "I didn't know it was a secret."

She looked over to him. "Until he tells me himself, it's a secret."

"He's never going to tell you unless you help him," Dean said. "He is terrified."

Lenore rolled her eyes. "I thought you Gryffindors were supposed to be fearless."

Dean picked at the carpet in front of him. "Neville has faced Voldemort, but he can't face you. Think about that."

"Are you saying I'm scarier than Voldemort?"

"I'm saying Neville needs your approval. He doesn't need Voldemort's."

Lenore sighed. This could not be more difficult. "I wish he would just say something."

"Do you fancy him, too?" Dean asked.

Lenore looked him in the eyes and nodded. "Since I know about your crush on Margaux, I guess I can tell you. I do. But don't tell him. Or I'll come after you."

Dean laughed and shook his head. "You two are something."

Lenore glanced down to the first floor and scanned the room for any sign of him. "Where is he anyway?"

"He doesn't like to dance," Dean said, "Or play drinking games. So probably talking in the kitchen. If you want to go find him, I'll hold down the fort. Bring him up, maybe get some booze in him, and he'll tell you anything."

Lenore smiled and shook her head. "I'll be back in a few minutes. Don't peer pressure your poor mate."

Neville was in fact in the kitchen, sitting on the laminate counter top with a very drunk Terry Boot. The Ravenclaw boy swung his bitter drink up to his lips and began talking before he even swallowed.

"I tell you what, this year is going to be a bitch."

A sober Neville nodded along and said, "Mmhmm."

"All the homework, the Slytherins are gonna be right wankers, thinking they're all high and mighty what with this You-Know-Who shite. Hogwarts is gonna be like a prison— mark my words. But who knows, maybe when we get back, all the now-fourth year girls will have grown tits over the summer."

Before Neville could properly reply to Terry's crude comment, the Ravenclaw interrupted him with a shout. He waved wildly, "OLIVER!"

Across the kitchen, Neville spotted the dark-haired boy. His gut told him to get up and leave, but he could not bring himself to do it, in fear of looking suspicious.

"TERRY!" Oliver Rivers shouted as he sauntered over. He and Terry performed an intricate handshake that ended with Oliver hoisting himself onto the kitchen counter next to Terry. "Longbottom," he nodded across Terry towards the Gryffindor. "What's going on, lads?"

"Not much!" Terry slurred. "We're just talking about how shitty sixth year is going to be."

"It's gonna suck," Oliver raised his cup. "This summer was our last time of freedom, probably ever."

Terry poured himself more dark liquor from the glass bottle behind him. He swallowed a large amount in one gulp. "How's your summer been, then, mate?"

"Not bad!" Oliver said, sipping his own drink. "The birds have flocked to me, if you get my metaphor."

Neville noticed how intoxicated Oliver already was. Oliver was never pleasant when he was drunk. He was not pleasant sober either, but he always seemed pushier after a few pints.

"Ohhh," Terry grinned wickedly. "Who's your most recent bird?"

"Oh, I can't say," Oliver smiled. "She wouldn't like me spilling."

"Come on!" Terry shook his friend's arm. "Tell us!"

Oliver purposefully turned his eyes to Neville and said, without blinking, "Lenore Henry."

Neville's stomach clenched. He immediately became numb to his spinning surroundings. Somewhere in this distance, he could hear Terry laughing and high-fiving Oliver, but none of that mattered. Lenore and Oliver kissed. His brain shouted the words over and over, the image of the two of them together danced around his brain, until he got the sudden urge to vomit.

"No way!" Terry shouted. "When?"

"End of last month."

Neville heart pounded. She had kissed a bloke that recently?

"How was she?" Terry asked, snapping Neville out of his trance.

"Fucking fantastic," Oliver said. "She's bloody fit."

Neville swallowed hard. Oliver continued to watch him with determined eyes.

"What about you, Longbottom?" he asked. "You pulled any birds?"

Neville's mouth grew dry. "N-no."

"Not even after the whole Ministry thing? I'm surprised. Women love that hero shit."

Neville remained silent. He had the strong urge to punch Oliver square in his manky face. He could tell the boy was deliberately holding this over his head. Somehow, Oliver must have known Neville fancied Lenore. Neville realized he could have remembered their time together during the pre-O.W.L.s party. Oliver was acting a little too righteous to not know something. Neville had about a thousand questions for Oliver, but he knew he could not ask a single one of them. He could not ask Lenore either, that would be too weird. He sat completely still, his stomach tossing and turning violently as he sensed Lenore slipping away from him slowly. He felt like such an idiot. It was clear she would never fall for him when she could have Oliver. Neville suddenly became aware Oliver was talking.

"Anyway," Oliver said, "Norie was the best I've had this summer. God, the way her lips felt against mine—"

At that moment, the door swung open and Lenore entered the kitchen. She furrowed her brow as her eyes passed over Neville and flew directly to Oliver. Her expression changed, from smiling to almost… annoyed?

"What are you doing here?" she stormed over and demanded the Ravenclaw.

"You've got to stop asking me that, love," Oliver drunkenly laughed.

"I'll stop asking when you stop showing up uninvited to my life," she crossed her arms.

Neville was utterly confused. Oliver stood up off the counter and wrapped his arms around Lenore. She flailed her body to get away from him, but he leaned in and kissed her cheek.

"Oliver!" she shouted. "Stop!"

He moved to her face, taking her top lip between his, but she immediately fussed, hitting him on the back with her fists and and releasing terrified noises that ripped Neville's heart apart. It was clear she did not want him touching her. She attempted to released herself from his arms, but he grabbed her once again. Neville instantly jumped from his seat and throttled Oliver around the neck with the crook of his elbow as Lenore kneed the Ravenclaw in the groin. He fell to the ground with a thud.

"What the fuck was that for?" he shouted.

"YOU FUCKING ATTACKED ME!" Lenore yelled.

Oliver laid on the tile floor clutching his balls. "Merlin's beard, you goddamn hussy, you acted like you wanted it!"

"I told you last time I didn't! Why would I this time?"

Oliver beat the white tiles with his fists and a single tear fell from his eye. "I thought you'd come around! Sorry! Geez!"

At once, Neville understood. Lenore had not wanted Oliver to kiss her, this time or the last time. Relief swept over his body, until he caught sight of Lenore's fearful face across from him. She stared down at Oliver with a mixture of fury and fear. She had just been taken advantage of, in front of two other people, and Oliver did not seem to be one bit sorry. Neville's anger boiled over, but he managed to stay calm.

"Oliver, you need to leave," said Neville.

"Terry!" he shouted viciously. "Tell him I'm not going anywhere."

Terry's mouth hung open, still surprised from the past minute's events. "Actually, mate… I… I think you should go."

Oliver spun his head around to his friend. "What?! I said I was sorry."

"Rivers," Terry hesitated, "you fucking assaulted her."

Oliver slowly stood from the ground, giving every one of them a dirty look. Terry took his arm, mouthed an apology to Lenore, and the pair of lads stumbled out of the kitchen, leaving Lenore and Neville alone.

Immediately, Lenore slumped to the cold floor. She buried her face in her hands as she bent her knees to her seated body. Neville sat close to her on the ground. His head pounded against his skull. Terry was right— she had just been assaulted. He could even imagine how she must feel right now.

"Are you okay?"

"I hate him so much," she whimpered into her hands.

Neville had no clue how to reply. He knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to pull her into a hug and say something witty to make her smile, but he could not do that. It did not feel right, and besides, he could not think of anything to say, much less something clever. He knew she would not want more undesired touching after this event, which was the only way up to that point he had been able to offer her some alleviation for her troubles. Words would only help so much, until he always found himself drawing a blank. He watched helplessly as she sat completely still, curled tightly into her own body in an attempt to find comfort.

Lenore sat up straighter. Neville was relieved to see she was not crying. She did, however, appear worn out. Her face slipped into an enraged appearance.

"I should have punched him."

"Y-you got him pretty good in between the legs."

She smiled faintly. "That's not enough."

"Is that the second time he's done that?" Neville asked quietly.

She shook her head. "That's the fir—"

But she stopped and furrowed her eyebrows. "I'm not sure. He's kissed me three times. The first time, you were there, he kissed my cheek and I didn't exactly say no. The second time…"

She made eye contact with him. "…was on your birthday, at that wedding."

Neville's eyes widened and he sucked his cheeks in. As he nodded, he noticed how apologetic Lenore's eyes seemed.

"I… I didn't exactly tell him no that time either. I mean, after a few seconds, I pulled away and said I didn't want to. But tonight I clearly said 'stop' and he kept going. That's what pisses me off the most. How do you not understand 'no?'"

"B-before you came in here," Neville said, "he was talking about that kiss at the wedding."

Lenore clenched her jaw. "What did he say?"

"H-he basically said it was a great kiss and you were 'bloody fit.'"

"It was not a great kiss, I don't know what bullshit he told you. I didn't kiss him, at all. I just…"

She looked down at her hands. "I let him use me. I didn't reciprocate. God, I'm so mad at myself. I shouldn't have let him do that. He… He just kept talking about how beautiful I was and somehow that's all it took to convince me. Neville," she turned to him, "I've never done that before. I've had guys pull stupid moves like that on me before and I shut it down so fast. You know Horatio Pershore?"

"The Slytherin a year below us?"

"Yes. This kid… One day I was wearing jeans with holes in them and he starts running his fingers on my skin in the holes above my knee. Any normal fourteen year old girl would think that is just the cutest. But you know what I did? I turned to him, stone cold face, and said, 'Did I give you permission to touch me?'"

Neville chuckled, as Lenore buried her face in her hands again. "Merlin," she said, "I'm such a bitch. But why wasn't I a bitch to Oliver? What the hell is wrong with me?"

"Nothing is wrong with you," he assured her. "You were scared."

Lenore was quiet for a moment before she said, "You know he told me he liked me? I think he was serious, too."

Neville shook his head. "He doesn't. He can't treat you like this if he really likes you."

Lenore sighed. "Neville, why are you the best boy I know?"

His breathing slowed as she sat up straight and looked him in the eye. "What the hell happened to you to make you so great?" she said. "I seriously can't find one thing terribly wrong with you. You don't say anything mean ever, you don't interrupt people when they're talking, and you don't try things on me, just those three things alone make you better than any male I've ever encountered. Can't you tell your gender to stop being such little pricks?"

Neville smiled sadly. "I wish."

His eyes lingered on hers for a while. She licked her lips, which caused a chill to run through his body. He had not realized quite how close she was to him until that moment. An inconsequential number of centimeters separated them. Neville almost scooted away out of respect, but something told him not to. He desperately needed to be close to her, even if they were not touching. Her body heat radiated over to him, along with her faint vanilla perfume and her minty toothpaste, which swirled in the air to create a scent more intoxicating than cheap tequila. His entire body ached for her touch, for her fingers to intertwine with his, for her arm to lean against his, for her enticing lips on his body, for any sign that she liked him as more than a friend. He knew he should not be thinking about this right now, but he could not stop. She was so lovely, inside and out, and he did not want to see her sad any longer.

"Thank you," she breathed, "for helping get Oliver off me."

"N-no problem."

He watched as her eyes flickered from his eyes to his lips and back again. For a split second, he thought she was going to kiss him. His lips parted in absolute agonizing anticipation as she leaned in. At the last second, she sighed and laid her forehead against her arms on her knee. A thought ran across Neville's mind: had she been waiting for him to kiss her? She couldn't have been. She just talked about how she was glad he never made a move on her. The thought made his stomach toss and turn. She did not like him, there was no way after that comment.

As Neville's thoughts frantically consumed him, he felt her head come to rest on his shoulder. Her body heat over took his own cool skin and she curled closer to him, her thigh touching his own. He wanted to kiss her so badly. He wanted to tilt her chin towards his face and take her bottom lip between his and kiss her until she saw fireworks, until she saw in him what he saw in her. He wanted her to be even closer to him than she already was, to feel her body and soul intertwined next to his. Every piece of his body cried out for her, to feel her, to know her, to appreciate her, like no other guy seemed to do. He wanted her so badly.

But he was so goddamn scared. No time in his life had ever elicited more fear than the present moment. Not seeing You-Know-Who, not battling Death Eaters, not visiting his parents each Christmas and being reminded that he would never have a normal, happy holiday like he read about in books. No, this was the most terrifying moment of his life and all he could do was sit there like an idiot and experience his stomach completing horrible, painful somersaults. She sighed against his arm and her warm breath travelled down his skin. She shifted her head so her limp lips could just barely be felt through his navy t-shirt. A shudder passed through his body as she touched her fingertips to the inside of his elbow.

At once, his stomach twisted so violently, he thought he would be sick. Wait. He was going to be sick. Neville scrambled up and leaned over the sink, where his watery stomach contents emptied into the shiny steel basin.

"Neville!" Lenore exclaimed. "Are you okay?"

Neville's face remained in the sink. As he caught his ragged breath, she hurried over to him and placed a hand on his mid-back. She rubbed oversized circles into his shirt as he threw up one more time. He stood over the sink, panting heavily and embarrassed as hell. Lenore reached for a cloth hanging over the oven door handle and handed it to him.

"Here," she said tenderly.

Neville ran the cold water over the towel and wiped his face as the water dragged his vomit into the drain with a counterclockwise swirl.

"Have you been drinking?" she asked.

He shook his head, but found himself unable to speak.

Her hand continued to circle his back, which caused him to close his eyes and lean against his arms. "Are you sick?"

Again, he shook his head. He was so embarrassed he did not want to look at her. "N-no," he coughed. "I-I don't know what happened."

"Do you want a mint?" She fished into her purse that hung across her body, threw the bag off her and onto the counter, and out came a round green and white stripped candy.

Neville took it from her, finally making eye contact. Her green eyes stared at him with such care he thought he would be sick again. This was all in his head. His brain was so messed up, he could not believe his body had acted in such a way. He rinsed his mouth out with water, popped the mint in his mouth and shut his eyes.

"Don't be embarrassed," Lenore said sweetly.

"I-I'm trying," he breathed. "Merlin, what is wrong with me?"

"Not a thing," she said.

He sucked his mint harder to distract himself from her. The sweet and fresh taste of mint replaced the putrid bile scent in his mouth.

After a moment, she asked, "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I-I-I'm fine," he stammered.

He watched her face scanning his. She gazed at him with all the kindness in the world. Her mouth hung slightly ajar and her body was a mere step away from his. She had not taken her eyes off him in forever. She stopped rubbing his back, her hand becoming still and finally clutching his shirt material. Neville's mouth opened slightly as she inched closer.

"Neville?" she whispered. "Do you want to kiss me?"

Neville's stomach clenched yet again. Where did that come from? Before his brain could come up with a coverup response, his body betrayed him. He nodded and immediately gasped.

"Okay," she breathed.

She stepped closer to him and gradually brought a hand to his jaw. The closer she got, the more nervous Neville grew. Is this really happening? This had to be a dream. His mind shut down and his body took over. He bent down so tortuously slow, never breaking eye contact with her. She stood on her toes and at once, his eyelids closed and her lips met his. How he felt was beyond mere words, her kiss was the most thrilling, ecstatic, gut-wrenching experience he had ever enjoyed. The sensation could not be explained in any other way besides complete and utter ecstasy that swallowed his entire being into excruciating happiness. She did not stop at one kiss, like he had expected her to do. She did not lean away, so he kept kissing her, taking her soft lips between his over and over, arduously slow, with such care. Neville heard himself whimper against her mouth but he immediately shut that down for fear of scaring her away. The mint in his mouth was shoved off to the side, pinned against his molars as he attempted to not choke on it. If anything, the mint only added to the sensation. She captured his bottom lip between hers a few times, then moved to his top lip.

He felt his entire body melt, his eyelids softened and his mouth loosely pressed against hers, as he tried to stop himself from nervously shaking. He could not remember where to put his hands, so he did not move them, instead he put his full focus into mimicking Lenore's lip motions. He figured she knew what she was doing. Her lips were so smooth as they glided across his. Neville tried to act as mellow as Lenore, but he could not shut his brain off. Her thumb lightly rubbed his jawline, which sent electrifying pulses across all his limbs.

"Neville," she pulled away to look at his face. "I fancy you."

Still a bit disoriented from the kisses, his mouth dropped open. He blinked a few times. "Y-you… what?"

"I fancy you."

He stared with wide eyes. He wanted to remember every detail of this moment. The way her smooth, thick hair fell in her face, how her deep emerald green eyes did not move from his, the shape of her perfect lips, which just moment ago had been on his. He was in disbelief. Had he heard her correctly?

"N-no," he said. "Y-you can't. W-what?"

"What do you mean I can't?"

"N-no!" he said quickly. "I-I just… You fancy me?"

She nodded.

"I fancy you, too, Len," he finally whispered.

"No shit," she grinned.

"W-what?"

"I can tell."

Neville furrowed his eyebrows. "I-I didn't know you could tell."

"I can," she said quietly. "Quite well. Now kiss me again."

"Wait," he spit the remaining sliver of his mint into the sink and took a sip of water. "Did I taste like vomit?"

"No," she laughed. "You were great."

He gingerly stepped closer to her once more, still unsure this was not a dream.

"Put your hands on my back," she instructed.

He wordlessly did as she said.

"You really don't have to be nervous," she said with a reassuring smile. "The first kiss was very nice."

"R-really?"

"Yes."

Lenore placed one hand in Neville's hair and the other on his jaw. She kissed him more passionately than the last. After the initial shock, Neville fell into the moment. He was more confident than before. He moved his hands across her back, pressing firmly into her skin. Lenore pulled her lips away from his just enough to smile briefly. Neville felt like he was sinking and floating at the exact same time. Falling deeply in love with this girl, yet so blissful he seemed to be floating in the clouds. He could not believe Lenore was in his arms, kissing him. He waited over a year for this moment and it did not disappoint.

He felt her wiggling next to him and he stared to lean away, until she directed his head closer to her lips. Without breaking contact, she inched her way onto the counter and pulled Neville between her legs. Her feet hung loosely against the back of his thighs, which she held with her knees. It took everything in Neville's body to stop him from moaning. The kisses were no longer innocent and delicate, but wild with desire. One of her hands gripped a tuft of hair on the back of his head, while the other pressed his jaw. His hands held on tightly to her back and he heard her making small noises of delightful approval against his mouth, which drove him mad. His heart pounded faster than it ever had in his life.

He fancied her so much. This kiss was everything he wanted for a year and a half and it was magnificent. Lenore was so beautiful, inside and out. As if the kiss wasn't already enough, his mind abruptly remembered that she fancied him, too. Knowing that she enjoyed the kiss as much as he did sent him over the edge. She fanciess me, his brain screamed over and over. One of his hands found it's way to the back of her head and he deepened the kiss even more. She smiled against his mouth for a couple seconds, which gave him a deep sense of pleasure.

"Len," he breathed.

"Nev," she returned the grateful exhale and pulled herself tighter against his body.

Before he knew what was happening, his lips were not on Lenore's anymore. He moved to her jawline and then her neck. He kissed up and down her soft neck until he hit a crevice near her collarbone. She let out a small, "Mmm," and clutched a patch of his hair. Neville's stomach flipped so violently he thought he would be sick again. But it was not a bad feeling. Not like a few minutes ago. Not at all. On the contrary, he had never felt so wonderful in his life. Every movement of her body against his elicited excitement in his veins as he sucked on her skin and she writhed joyfully under his touch.

"What happened to you being shy?" she murmured playfully.

He responded by gently biting her neck.

She gasped. "Neville!"

He immediately tore away, believing she sounded angry. "S-sorry!"

"No!" she giggled. "I liked it!"

Neville's face flushed with deep embarrassment.

"You really got into it," she smiled.

All of a sudden, Neville's shyness crept back. He did not know how to reply. He merely sat in silence as his cheeks burned bright red.

"There's Shy Neville," Lenore said, pushing his hair away from his forehead. "But I also liked the other version of Neville I just saw."

"I guess I'm full of surprises."

"You're full of something."

Neville bit his lip, but it quickly turned into a smile. The pair wordlessly stared into each other's eyes for what seemed like an hour, but it was really just a few seconds.

"You're a really good kisser," Lenore told him.

"R-really?" he said.

She grinned timidly, "Merlin, yes."

He smiled brighter than he had in a long time. The way she looked at him made him feel like a ray of sunshine burst from his heart. "I'd keep kissing you," she said shyly, "but I don't want to get carried away, you know?"

Neville nodded. Whatever she wanted was perfectly fine with him.

"Merlin," she exhaled. "I want to keep snogging you. But we can't. We have to go slow, okay?"

He nodded again, too nervous to speak. Lenore glanced at a clock on the wall behind him. "Shit, I told Dean I would only be a couple minutes. It's been like thirty."

"You'd better get upstairs then," he said.

"I actually came down here to find you and bring you upstairs, but I was rudely interrupted by Rivers."

"Merlin," he breathed, "I'm so glad you came downstairs."

"Me, too," she smiled. "Somehow it worked out in the end."

Neville exhaled and shook his head, watching this girl with so much affection and devotion. "I can't believe you fancy me."

"I can't believe you forced me to make the first move," she laughed.

"God, I was so nervous. Lenore, you have no idea."

"Is that why you threw up?" she asked suddenly, but gently, as she touched a hand to his elbow.

He nodded and felt his cheeks grow hot again.

"I figured," she said. "I don't know what the hell I did, but I could tell it sent you off."

"Literally, you just existing does that to me," he said, before slamming his lips together.

She laughed. "You can say that now. It's all out in the open."

"Not all of it," he said. "I don't want to scare you away."

She smiled. "One day, it all will be. Come on," she slid her fingers down his arm and grabbed his hand as she jumped off the counter. "Let's go find Dean."

.

THIRTY MINUTES EARLIER

"Hey!" Margaux shouted over the thumping music. "Have you seen Derek?"

"I haven't!" Ginny replied.

"Me neither!" Luna said.

Margaux sighed. "He asked me to hold his drink nearly fifteen minutes ago! I'm about to throw it away."

"Don't waste the alcohol!" Ginny said.

"Well, I'm not drinking it!" She swirled the liquid around the cup and watched as the pink liquid twirled in a clockwise circle. "I guess I'll go look for him."

Margaux checked the kitchen first. She peeked in and saw Neville and Terry on the counter, but no Derek. She searched the entire downstairs, from the dining room to the laundry, with no luck. The only place left was upstairs. She decided it would be fine to go upstairs, but she would not open any bedroom doors, for fear of seeing something she would regret. Her feet scaled the steep stairs and she entered the walkway above the living room. To her left, Dean sat on the floor, staring blankly ahead towards the large, pitch black living room windows. When he heard her footprints, he turned to face her and immediately smiled. "Hi, Mar. What are you doing up here?"

"Oh," she glanced around. "I'm actually looking for Derek. Have you seen him?"

"Nope," Dean said.

"Fuck it, then." She gulped down the rest of Derek's drink as Dean's eyes widened.

"Aren't you not supposed to be drinking?"

She waved her hand. "It was like half this cup and it was just rum with Hi-C chaser. That won't even make me tipsy. Are you sitting up here alone at your own party?"

"Your sister was sitting with me. She just left to find Neville."

Margaux puffed out her lips. Her sister and Neville were beginning to get on her nerves with their constant back and forth flirting, but never doing anything about it. This was not how normal people were supposed to act. "They are so weird. He just needs to tell her how he feels."

"Wait," Dean said. "You… know?"

"Of course I do! I've got eyes. He's fancied her since at least November, I would guess. Probably longer."

"It's… it's probably been a little over a year."

She nodded. "I told you I can tell these things."

"She told me she fancies him, too. But I'm not supposed to tell you."

"Ha! I know. One of them needs to suck it up and do something about it."

Dean nodded. "Did you want to sit down?"

She glanced down to the spot he patted on the carpet. "Sure," she hesitated. "I've got nothing else to do."

Dean turned his body to face her as she sat on the ground and leaned against a wall behind her. "So," she said, "I notice the music has gotten better in the last half-hour."

"Lenore convinced me to play muggle music instead."

"Good choice. Wizard music is all so boring."

"Not super danceable, no."

"Children of the Cauldron are pretty upbeat, but other than that…"

"ACCIO YOUTH is decent for dancing."

"Yeah, but their lyrics are so generic. 'Night on Fire?' That entire song just feels like recycled lyrics they stole from any indie band. Like they sat in a dive bar, watching some nobody, probably called 'WiLD CHiLD who spells her name all uppercase except for the vowels, listening to her croon out her boring words as the bassist of ACCIO YOUTH shouts out, 'WRITE THAT DOWN, WRITE THAT DOWN!' to the lead singer who is scribbling furiously with an oversized peacock feather as a quill."

Dean laughed. "That was very specific. But probably all true."

As his sentence ended, the next song came up on shuffle. "Friday I'm in Love" by The Cure played over the loud speakers. Margaux's mind flashed back to a night she had spent with Michael. They went out to eat at a local Italian restaurant and then decided to explore the neighborhood. The couple came across a block party downtown, where the locals danced to bad music, and ate unhealthy food, and played boring games, but it was still an exciting time. Margaux was playing a carnival game, when Michael decided to undermine her throwing ability. He said, "Step aside and let a man do it," which angered Margaux. They got in a fight about his sexism, and he had the nerve to insult her intelligence, on top of her sportsmanlike qualities. All the while, that song played in the background as the attendees tore up on the makeshift dance floor.

"I hate this song," she muttered.

Dean looked over to her. "Why?"

"It reminds me of Michael."

He squinted. "What? Shouldn't that be a good thing?"

"It should be…"

Margaux's surroundings seemed to be slipping away from her. She heard the thumping of the music, but no longer noticed the lyrics or the subtleties of the beat. Her mind seemed to be in its own little dark cave, unaware of the outside world, of the party below her, of Dean to her left. Michael was pissing her off lately, but she never said anything to him about it. She decided she was being way too nice to him.

Dean waved his hand in front of her face. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she shook her head loosely, snapping out of her trance. "Sorry! I'm just thinking."

"About what?"

She shook her head again. "You don't want to hear it."

"No," Dean said. "I do. If you want to tell me, I'll listen."

Margaux thought a moment, still avoiding eye contact with the boy next to her. She desperately wanted to tell him, just to get it off her chest. She had no one else to tell. Only Dean had ever met Michael for an extended period of time, maybe he would understand the context behind his actions. Margaux glanced up from her hands and the look in her eyes must have screamed complete anguish, because Dean physically recoiled. She adjusted her facial expression to neutral. "You know what Michael said to me before I left for here?"

Dean shook his head and watched her lips quaver.

She took a deep breath. "He said he didn't like the idea of me going to another boy's house when there was alcohol around. I mean, how bitchy was that?"

Dean's mouth dropped open. "He said that to you?"

She nodded. "Yes! Dean, I didn't know what to say! I should have yelled at him. I should have broken up with him, honestly. He's never said anything like that to me before. He really is a sweet guy, but I think he thinks this relationship is more serious than it actually is."

"Mar," he said softly, "that's not being sweet. That's being territorial. What is he going to do when you're back at Hogwarts? What if he starts trying to control you?"

Margaux stomped her foot on the ground in frustration. "I'm so mad at myself. I try to be a good, strong feminist but then I let him say that to me? What the fuck?"

"What did you say?"

"I just kind of laughed it off, but I think that upset him," she shrugged.

"Okay," Dean scooted closer to her. "Role play with me. I'm Michael. I'm going to tell you not to hang out with other boys. You tell me what you are going to say to him next time."

Margaux smiled. "Okay."

Dean rolled up his sleeves and puffed out his chest.

"Stop," Margaux giggled. "You're mocking him."

He grinned and forced his voice to sound deeper, "So, uh, what're you up to tonight, Margaux?"

She played along, "Remember Dean from the bowling alley? I'm going to his house for a party."

Dean furrowed his eyebrows. "Dean? I don't know if I want you hanging out with such a stud all by yourself. My masculinity is threatened by a man like him."

Margaux laughed and nudged his shoulder. "Be serious!"

Dean cleared his throat. "Alright, alright… Margaux, I don't like the idea of you hanging out alone with other boys."

Margaux sat up on her knees. "Well, that's just too fucking bad then, Michael. I'm going to this party whether you like it or not. You don't own me."

Dean laughed. "Alright, now tell me what you actually said."

"I said, 'Oh, ha ha. Okay.' And I think he took that to mean I wasn't going, but here I am," she gestured to the party downstairs.

He set the music player down on the speaker it was connected to by a thin wire. "Doesn't the first option sound better?"

"It does," she smiled. "I don't know why he's acting like this. In my mind, I'm mad at him, but when I'm around him, I just… You don't want to hear about this."

"No," Dean said, "tell me."

Margaux rolled her eyes. "In my mind, he annoys the shit out of me. But as soon as I get around him, I melt. That sounds dumb as fuck, I know, but I really do. I think I perceive him differently in individual situations. Remember how I told you I like the idea of him better than him? I think I had it backwards. I don't like the idea of him, of having a boyfriend. But I like him, you know?"

Dean's face showed nothing but confusion. "If we're being honest, no, I don't know."

Margaux huffed. "I don't know either. It's all too much."

He seemed to pause. "Then break up with him."

Margaux smiled. "Have you not been listening? I like him."

"Merlin, Mar," he sighed. "You are so confusing."

She glanced down to her pocket as she heard the faint buzzing of the Henry family's black, brick shaped mobile phone. She reached down to view the glowing screen.

"Speak of the devil," she sighed.

"It's Michael?"

She nodded.

"Don't answer it!"

"What? Why?"

"Don't you think that's weird? That he's calling to check up on you? To make sure you're not with another guy?"

"No," she waved him off. "He always calls me around this time on the weekends, after he gets off work."

"Mar," Dean said, "don't answer it. This is so suspicious."

She ignored him and pressed the green button. "Hi, Michael!"

As she made small talk, Dean watched her face gradually fall.

"No… Well, yes, I'm at the party… No, I'm here with my friend Ginny… No, I haven't talked to him…"

She glanced up at Dean and he felt his stomach twist into a knot. Michael was asking about him, he just knew it. "Listen, Michael… I just think… Okay then, go on…"

Dean could hear the boy's voice blabbering on across the phone line. "Hang up," he hissed to Margaux.

She plugged her ear as not to hear Dean. "Michael, I've got to go… No, just stop talking, okay? Why? Because I'm tired of hearing your voice, to be completely fucking honest."

She clapped a hand over her mouth. "I didn't mean that. I'm sorry! Hello?"

Margaux groaned loudly as she let her phone drop out of her hand. She turned to Dean, "The fucker hung up on me!"

"What?" Dean gasped. "That's so immature!"

"You're telling me!" she huffed.

Margaux looked out over the party as her heart wildly thumped against her ribs. She was beginning to sweat. Her eyes glossed over as she nearly whispered, "He told me a few weeks ago that he was smarter than me."

Dean scooted closer to her. "Margaux, that is absolute bullshit. The boy has chlorine in his brain."

She smiled, but then quickly frowned.

"Why did you let him do that?" Dean asked.

She shrugged. "A lot of boys do that. I just assumed it was a joke. I was angry, it was a stupid joke, but now that I'm looking back I think he truly believes it."

"You can't let him talk to you that way. It's only going to get worse."

She swung her head around to Dean so quickly that it startled him and she hissed, "You think I don't know that?"

Tears stung her eyes. She choked back a break in her voice. "What am I supposed to do? I'm so mad at myself, Dean. WHY DO I LIKE HIM?"

Margaux's mind worked in overdrive. She desperately needed to stop talking, to stop thinking about this, but she could not. Every shitty thing Michael had ever done to her filled her consciousness, even things that were not all that horrible. When he interrupted her as she talked. When he attempted to explain things to her as if she was a child. When he ignored her to play video games. It all culminated in her head and she could not stop herself from ranting.

"Sometimes he's so nice to me, but every so often, he'll make a comment that I know holds more meaning than he is willing to admit. He's got a masculinity issue. Doesn't that piss you off? How boys are expected to achieve a certain false level of masculinity, and if they feel like they won't reach that level, they overcompensate and end up treating girls like shit? I wish I could just scream at all of society, 'STOP ENDANGERING MEN WITH THE ILLUSION OF MASCULINITY,' but I can't. Goddamn it, I can't. Every fucking boy I know does this shit. I'm going to spend my entire life dealing with this. There is no escaping it, because it is everywhere."

She was now breathing incredibly heavy. Her limbs tingled, her hands and feet went numb. Her head pounded with each pulsating beat of her heart. She was burning up, so she removed her thin cardigan from her shoulders and tied it around her waist. She avoided Dean's eyes, but she knew he was looking at her.

"Margaux, are you okay?"

She closed her eyes. "No," she gasped between breaths. "I'm having a fucking panic attack."

"Y-you what?"

She took deep inhalations in an attempt to regulate her breathing. "A panic attack! Remember I told you I have anxiety!"

"Oh god, Mar, what can I do to help?"

She glanced up to his eyes, which stared at her with such concern. "D-do you have a pillow so I can lay down?"

"Yes!" he said. "Do you want to lay down on my sister's bed?"

She nodded. "That… that will help."

She tried to stand up, but with her numb feet, all she could do was get on her knees. Dean offered her a hand, but she shook her head. "I'll crawl."

"Margaux," he said, "don't."

He picked her up with relative ease, which surprised her. She was small, but muscular, so she was not exactly a dainty feather. Dean opened the door to his sisters' room and placed Margaux on top of the sky blue comforter on the lower bunk bed. She covered her face with a corner of the sheets. "This… this is so em-embarrassing."

"It's fine," he murmured. "Just keep breathing, Mar. You're doing so good."

The blanket remained over her face, as she focused on reducing her short, sharp breaths. Her eyes were sealed shut, but the inside of her eyelids projected colorful, crisp, and quick fireworks which caused her incredible dizziness. She felt like she was on a row boat, rocking back and forth as the never-ending waves of a hurricane pounded her sides. She was hazily aware that Dean sat next to her on the bed, mere centimeters from her leg, but with the sheet over her face, she could not tell if he was looking at her or not. Hopefully not. This was mortifying enough. She flipped onto her stomach and shoved the comforter back in its place. She was careful not to get makeup on the child's pillow, so she laid on her arms.

"How are you feeling?" Dean asked.

She took a few more deep breaths. Her normal breathing had nearly returned, but her limbs still ached and her head throbbed.

"Better, but not great."

Dean gave her two short pats on the back. "Is there anything I can do?"

Her voice deepened. "Take your hand off my back."

"S-sorry," he pulled away quickly.

Margaux cringed. "Sorry! I'm sorry. I sounded angry. I didn't meant to, really. You're being so nice. Thank you."

"N-no problem."

Margaux noticed how much he was stammering. Dean almost never stuttered. She was obviously making him nervous. He really was being so sweet to her. Tonight and always. Dean would never treat her like Michael did.

The thought caused her to gasp out loud. Comparing Dean and Michael? What had gotten in to her? She flipped over to look at Dean's face. His eyes watched her with more care than she had ever experienced in her entire life. He seemed to want to say something, but he kept his mouth shut. His brown eyes never left her own green ones.

"Dean," she whispered. "Tell me, honestly, should I break up with Michael?"

He swallowed. "Y-you said you fancy him?"

"I... guess. I just don't think he's worth all this."

"He's not," Dean said. "He's not at all. Do you think he fancies you? Or do you think he fancies being able to say he has you?"

Her lips parted and her eyes widened. "I… I don't know. He says he does. But then he's rude sometimes."

Dean bit the side of his cheek. "I don't know, then. Personally, I think you should break up with him. He doesn't treat you the way you deserve to be treated."

Margaux's eyes observed his every blink. Dean really was handsome. His sculpted cheekbones, his beautiful hair, his perfect smile, all of it combined to make him one of the most fit boys she had ever seen. She had never felt this way about him before. Obviously, Dean was attractive, but she had never personally found him attractive, if that made sense. She just simply never considered his looks in regards to any of her personal feelings. Plus, Dean was always so sweet to her. He had matured quite a bit this past year. That's more than she could say for most boys. Quite a few boys were scared of her because of her overbearing personality, but not Dean. He seemed to appreciate her for her, and not because she was pretty, which was the reason she assumed quite a few boys talked to her. Not Dean, though. He took in her every word because he wanted to hear what she had to say, not because he wanted to get with her. She glanced up at him. He continued to stare at her, even smiling with closed lips as her eyes met his. He really was one of the most kind-hearted, fun, caring boys she ever met.

Margaux shook these thoughts from her head, but they consumed every fiber of her brain. She sat straight up, so that her body was less than an arm's length away from his.

"Dean," she whispered, "how can you tell when somebody actually fancies you?"

He answered, without skipping a beat. "They are there for you when nobody else is."

Her lips parted as she stared at him. His reply seemed to have startled him, but he never took his eyes off hers. Her eyes flickered from Dean's lips, then back to his eyes and she caught him doing the same. Before she could stop herself, her hands found his jaw and she leaned in until their lips met.

Her insides felt like a pane-glass window had shattered and broke into a thousand sharp, triangular pieces, with each shard of glass lodging its way into her organs. Except, instead of glass, the shards turned into the physicalization of happiness and desire and care. Dean deepened the kiss and placed a hand in her hair. Her hands traced his jaw until they came to rest on the back of his neck.

Suddenly a thought swept across her mind: she had a boyfriend.

She was cheating on her boyfriend.

And she did not care.

She kissed Dean even more passionately, as her hand gripped the hair on his upper neck. He took her lips between hers with haste, as if he could never get enough of her, but so skillfully it made her stomach twist itself into knots. When her tongue traced his lip, she heard him let out a low whimper, which only excited her more. He kissed her so wonderfully, with so much care and appreciation. Margaux could not stop herself from lowering Dean down onto the bed and climbing over him, without breaking their contact. His hands gripped her back as she ran her hands all over his chest. Their kisses were quick and deep, consuming her entire soul.

She wanted him close to her so badly. She had never experienced this amount of affection in her entire life. He was her source of comfort at the moment, which she realized was problematic, but she simply did not care. She wanted him and he seemed to want her, so she kept kissing him, their tongues dancing around each other as her hips touched his body every so often and he groaned. She heard herself let out a quiet gasp when he bit her lip, but she chose to ignore it and instead lowered herself even closer to him.

"Wait, Margaux," he panted between kisses.

She pulled away and at once their eyes met. She gasped and removed herself from him.

"I'm so sorry," she said, receding to the other side of the bed. She stood up, "Dean, I'm so sorry. I can't do this. I-I'm with Michael. Oh God, I'm an awful person."

"N-no," he said, still discombobulated from the snogging. "You're not awful."

"Oh god," she drew a sharp breath. "I don't fancy you and you don't fancy me and I just kissed you! Dean, I can't do this! I have to go! Dean, I'm so sorry!"

She backed away from him, staring into his scared eyes, until her hand met the doorknob. The colder air of the hallway attacked her body as she shut Dean in the bedroom. She turned for the stairs and her eyes met her sister's. Lenore stared at her in confusion. Neville also watched her. Margaux shook her head and ignored the two as she bounded down the stairs in search of her friends and some bitter alcohol, in a half-hearted attempt to cleanse herself of her sins.

.

ONE MINUTE EARLIER

"Oh hey," Neville said to Lenore said as they walked through the crowded living room hand in hand, "I never told you, thank you for my birthday present."

She glanced back at him with a smile. "You liked it?"

"I loved it. I've read quite a bit of it and it's very well written."

"I didn't understand a word," she laughed. "But the pictures were lovely."

Neville grinned. He knew Lenore was exaggerating how little she understood it. She was a bright witch, even if Herbology was difficult for her. She let go of his hand at the bottom of the staircase and led him upstairs, where they heard a bedroom door creak open. Margaux ran out, her eyes making contact with Lenore's for a split second, before she hurried down the steps without a word. She moved faster than Lenore had ever seen her. Also emerging from the same bedroom, Dean, looking dazed, entered the hallway. He gasped when he saw a shocked Neville and Lenore.

Lenore spoke first. "What the hell was that?"

"I… She… We…" Dean seemed utterly confused. His eyes begged Neville for help, but the boy had no idea what to do or say or even what had just happened.

"Why were you and Margaux in a bedroom?"

"She…" Dean shook his head. "Merlin, I don't know. She was having a panic attack because of something Michael said to her, and I told her to lay down, and the next thing I know, she kissed me."

"SHE KISSED YOU?" Lenore shouted. "WHAT?"

Dean nodded. "I-I don't know why. She more than kissed me. Merlin, we snogged. I snogged Margaux… She was on top of me, holy fuck. She said it was a mistake and then she ran off. I'm… I'm just as confused as you are."

Lenore peered over the walkway railing. Margaux was downstairs in the middle of the room with her three friends and she seemed perfectly okay. Lenore shook her head and turned back to Dean. "She made out with you? Jesus Christ, Dean, I'm sorry."

Dean sucked in his cheeks and looked at the ground. "I-it's okay."

Neville glanced between Lenore and Dean. "Why are you sorry? Isn't this good?"

"No," Lenore said. "She's not going to break up with Michael, as far as I know. She just snogged Dean and left him hanging. Does she know you fancy her?"

Dean shook his head. "N-no. She said something like, 'You don't fancy me and I don't fancy you,' before she ran off. I-I think it was an accident. I think… I think she got caught up in the moment and just wanted to try to kiss someone other than Michael, to… to test, you know?"

Lenore put a hand on Dean's shoulder. "I'm so sorry. I'll talk to her."

"Please don't," he begged "I really just don't want us to be weird around each other. Oh God…" He slumped to the floor. "What if she never talks to me again?"

"Dean," Lenore sat next to him, "it'll all be okay, I promise."

"It will," Neville said, putting an arm around his mate. "She just needs time to think."

Dean bit his lip. His breathing quickened and his frustration boiled over. "I'm just so tired, you know? I'm tired of trying and getting nowhere and now any progress I've made is all ruined. She's never going to have feelings for me, especially after tonight. I'll be surprised if she ever talks to me again."

"Dean," cooed Lenore, "it's going to be okay. This is just how she acts. She gets over things quickly, I promise. By next week, she'll be talking to you again like normal."

"This is different. I could just tell by her eyes. Goddamn it," he stomped his foot on the ground, "I need to get over her."

Lenore stared at him for a while. "You fancy her a lot, don't you?"

Slowly, he nodded. "More than I think I let on."

"Honey," Lenore whispered. "Don't give up. She's not good at handling feelings. Neither of us are. We were raised to ignore emotions, to put them to the side. That's just how it is in our family. She could still fancy you. Remember, she's a year younger than you. We were all a little emotionally unstable last year, with all that teenage angst. Just give her time."

After a moment, Dean nodded. "I'm just so tired."

"Mate," Neville offered, "that's how I felt sometimes."

He noticed Lenore shift her eyes to his face and his stomach clenched. As he spoke, she watched him

"Sometimes, you look at her and think 'Maybe today is the day she'll give me a sign, any indication that she fancis me,' but she never does. You'll get discouraged, you'll feel sorry for yourself, you'll even be angry for chasing someone you know you shouldn't have a chance with, but one day, it will pay off. And if it doesn't, that… that's okay, too. At least you know you allowed yourself to care about someone. That's the ultimate human connection."

Lenore laid a hand on top of Neville's arm, careful not to touch Dean's shoulders. His eyes met hers and she smiled softly at him. He watched her in admiring disbelief, still amazed that she had kissed him.

"He's right," Lenore offered. "You'll feel all that. But it's worth it in the end, I'm sure."

Dean rolled his eyes. "What the hell took you two so long? You left me up here for half an hour!"

Lenore smiled to Neville. "Should we tell him what happened?"

"I-I think so," Neville said. "O-or we could show him."

She squealed with laughter. "You are such an opportunist!"

He shrugged and smiled.

"Show me, then," Dean gestured. "What? You got a scar breaking up a fight or something cool?"

Lenore smiled at Neville, crawled over to him, grabbed his face and kissed him. The butterflies danced in his stomach as he touched a hand to her cheek and she took his lips in hers. Their third kiss. He wondered if he would ever stop counting.

"WHAT THE FUCK?" Dean exclaimed. "HOLY FUCK. FUCK FUCK FUCK. THIS HAPPENED IN THIRTY MINUTES?"

The pair leaned away, both grinning like idiots.

"Keep up," Lenore snapped her fingers at Dean.

Dean's eyes shifted between the two so rapidly Neville did not understand how he could see anything. Finally, he stopped at Neville. "Mate," he said, "how the fuck did you manage this? In thirty minutes? Holy fuck, you've been after her forever and she just fucking kissed you!" He turned to Lenore with a huge smile. "You kissed him! Holy shit."

Neville shrugged. "It just happened."

"He threw up and I felt bad, so I kissed him," Lenore joked.

Dean's mouth released odd noises of confusion. "Lenore," he said, "do you mind if I steal my mate away for a couple seconds? I'd like to properly celebrate, man to man. You can DJ since you missed the last thirty minutes."

"Go ahead," she waved them away.

Dean stood and motioned for Neville to follow him into a bedroom at the far end of the hall. Neville was nearly blinded by all the lime green as he entered the empty child's room, not to mention the hundred posters of Disney Channel stars grinning back at him. Exactly as the door slammed shut, Dean screamed, "MATE!"

Neville faced him and shouted, "I KNOW."

"YOU KISSED HER. SHE KISSED YOU. OH MY GOD. HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?"

"I don't exactly know. It's such a weird story...

Neville recounted the events of the last hour, from his conversation with Oliver to him vomiting in the sink to Lenore's comments that Neville kissed well.

"HOW DID IT FEEL?" Dean shouted. "Merlin, you kissed her. You more than kissed her, you basically snogged her! You've fancied her for like a year and half, Neville! Jesus Christ, and she kissed you first."

"Dean," he grinned, "I can't tell you how great it feels to know she fancies me. It opens up a whole other set of doors for me to be anxious around her, though."

"Be anxious in between all the snogging you're about to do."

Neville's inside danced with giddiness. "I fancy her so much. Okay, but mate, how are you, really?"

Dean's face fell. "I'm… fine. I don't know. I'm conflicted."

"That's okay," Neville said. "Take your time and think about it."

Dean shook his head. "Merlin, was it a good kiss, though."

Neville raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

"God, yes," he sighed. "I can't even explain how I felt. Neville, she's so bloody good at it, I mean, bloody hell. If she hadn't pulled away, I don't think I would have been able to pull away myself, which I know I should have done, given her position, but… holy hell, was she beautiful."

Neville nodded. "That's great. At least when you're thinking about all this, you know what it's like to kiss her."

Dean closed his eyes and groaned. "That makes it even more of a difficult decision."

"It'll be fine. Whatever you choose, I'll support you."

Dean grinned. "I can't trust you now, though."

"Why?"

"You're no longer an unbiased source, since you'll be fucking her sister."

Neville cringed as his cheeks burned bright red. "N-n-no, I… I don't think we'll be doing that for a while. Or at all, ever. I-I still can't tell how much she fancies me. I definitely know it's not as much as I fancy her. One step at a time."

"I know," Dean laughed. "You need to take things slow. For your own sake as well. I can't imagine you having sex with her anytime soon. You would cum the second she even touches you."

Neville's face grew even warmer. He nudged Dean, who laughed. "Y-you're right, though," Neville said. "Merlin, is she a good kisser. I can't think about this right now."

"Then go back outside and get more comfortable around her!"

The boys opened the door and returned to Lenore, who smiled a greeting. "Have a nice boys chat?"

"Brilliant," Dean said.

"I should have gone to find Katie for a girls chat."

"I'm sure you hens will have plenty to discuss," he laughed.

The three of them sat in a circle around the music player. "So, does this mean you two will start dating?"

Neville's gaze flickered over to Lenore, who smiled at him. "I assume so," she said. "I figured we'd deal with that when we went back to school."

"Merlin," Dean shook his head. "I still can't believe this."

"Me neither," Neville exhaled. He could not stop staring at Lenore. He wanted her to be close to him again, rather than out of arms reach, and something told him she wanted that as well. The group sat and talked for while as more late-80s muggle music blasted from the speakers. Dean kept the conversation fun and lighthearted while Neville kept stealing glances to Lenore.

At 11:30, Lenore suddenly gasped. "I have to get Margaux! We're supposed to home soon!"

"It's not even midnight, Dean said, glancing over to a clock on the wall.

"We have to be home before midnight."

Dean started to speak into his wand-turned-microphone, but he stopped, covered the microphone and said to Lenore, "You better call for her."

She shot him a concerned glance and leaned into his wand. "Can I have Margaux Henry come upstairs, please? And Katie Bell. Margaux and Katie come upstairs."

As the group waited for the two girls, Lenore turned to Neville. "I'm going to kiss you goodbye now, because I don't want them to see me, okay?"

"O-okay," he stammered, a little unsure why she did not want them to see.

"It's just easier if I explain it first than let them see it and I don't have time to explain," she said, as if reading his mind.

She scooted over on her knees to him, intertwined her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, and gave him a quick kiss.

"God, this again," Dean sighed. "Are you gonna keep rubbing it in my face?"

Lenore pulled away with a smile, never breaking eye contact with Neville. "Number four," she said.

"Trust me, I've been keeping count," he breathed.

"Goodnight," she smiled. "I'll see you at school."

"Goodnight," he said.

As she let go, Neville placed a hand over hers on his shoulder. "Lenore?"

"Yeah?"

Neville stopped. He did not know what to say. He simply felt like there was something he should say, like when couples say, "Love you, bye," except they did not love each other and this was a goodnight, not a goodbye.

"I-I don't know," he admitted. "I just felt like there was something else I should say, but I don't know what."

"What?" she laughed.

"I don't know, ignore me."

She flipped her palm over and squeezed his hand. She whispered with a grin, "Goodnight, Neville."

"I'm getting out of here," Dean asked as he heard footsteps near the stairs. He hurried into his bedroom and shut the door.

Lenore whipped her hand away from Neville as Margaux slowly stepped up to the last stair and glanced around, seemingly searching for Dean. She breathed a sigh of relief, "What do you want?"

Lenore turned to the two girls. "We have to go, Mar. And Katie, I just wanted to let you know we were leaving."

"I'll come with you!" Katie said. "I have to be up early tomorrow. I still haven't packed."

Margaux led the way, followed by Katie. Lenore turned to Neville.

"Neville, keep me in your thoughts. Pray I don't cuss my sister out."

He grinned. "Okay. Go easy on her. She's having a rough time, too, I'm sure."

She nodded, but puffed out her lips. "I guess. Well, I'll see you on Monday."

"Bye, Lenore."

.

When he was certain the girls were gone, Dean reemerged from his bedroom. Neville still sat upstairs, grinning to himself.

"What's your problem?" Dean laughed as he returned to his spot.

Neville shook his head and then exhaled deeply. "Lenore kissed me. Me. She pressed herself against me. Her hands were in my hair. Merlin H. Wizard, she fancies me."

Dean gave his friend a half-hearted smile. He wished he could be happier for Neville, but he was going through his own emotional turmoil. "That's great, mate."

Neville's smile never faded. "She's so wonderful. God, I'm so nervous though. I can't mess this up. Can you be excited and nervous at the same time?"

Dean nodded. "I wish that's how I felt right now."

Gradually, Neville's smirk receded. "Mate, how are you, for real?"

Dean stared off into the distance. He was not sure how he felt. On one hand, he was angry. On another, sadness consumed him. The boy would need to be an octopus to continue this metaphor of one hand per emotion. At the moment, only numbness took over his brain. He felt everything with such power that he felt nothing. He realized he desperately wanted to see how Margaux was acting at this moment. He did not want her to be sad, even though she had caused him so much pain.

"I… I'm fine. I'll be better once I get some time alone to think this through. It's killing me to know what Margaux is thinking right now."

Neville seemed to take a moment to think. "Call her."

Dean glanced up. "Call her?"

"Yes. Ask her how Margaux is acting."

Dean considered the idea. "You don't think that would be weird?"

He shook his head. "I don't think so. Lenore said she wanted to help you. Give them a half hour and then call her."

Dean reluctantly agreed. A half hour passed slowly then he retrieved the cordless phone.

After some fumbling, Neville figured out how to press the buttons. Dean stared at the screen for a moment before pressing the call button. "…What am I supposed to say?"

"You're asking me what to say to a girl?"

Dean shook his head. "No. You're right. How about I just say, 'Hey, this is Dean. Sorry to bother you, but how is Margaux acting?'"

Neville agreed that it sounded good but Dean still hesitated.

"What if her family answers? What if Margaux answers?"

"If her family answers, just ask to speak to Lenore. Say you need to ask her something. If Margaux answers, hang up. But Lenore tends to answer the phone. I've called her at different times of the day and her family doesn't answer the phone, it seems to be her job. I asked her one time and it's because her parents work and then at night they sit in front of a loud TV and don't hear it. And Margaux just doesn't do it because she doesn't want to talk to strangers."

Dean sighed. "Okay. I'll call. This is so weird. So weird. God, okay."

He pressed the call button. After a few agonizing seconds of waiting, a voice answered the phone. "Hello?"

It was a whisper, but it was definitely Lenore.

"Hi!" Dean said. "Hi, this is Dean. This is so weird, I know. I-I just... How is Margaux acting? I'm sorry."

"No! You're fine," Lenore said. "Hang on."

She seemed to be fumbling with the telephone, then he heard a door shut. "Sorry," she said. "I'm on the upstairs phone in the hall and I had to drag it to my room. How's Margaux acting? I have no idea. Normal. But... she just got off the phone with Michael."

Dean's eyes widened. "What did she say?"

Lenore voice lowered. "I was listening in. She didn't tell him about the kiss and I don't think she's going to. She... she said, 'I love you, too.'"

Dean's stomach twisted violently as the words flew over his ear. Without a word to Neville, Dean dropped the phone and buried his face in his hands. His mind spun into a dark void, leaving him completely thoughtless, consumed in his own brooding.

Neville could hear Lenore calling, "Hello?" over the line, so he picked up the phone.

"H-hi, Len, it's Neville."

"Hi," she smiled. "Is Dean okay?"

Neville glanced at Dean, whose face was in his hands. "W-what did you tell him?"

"Margaux told Michael she loves him."

"Oh," Neville gasped. "Well... Hang on. Can you give us a minute?"

"Of course."

Neville placed the telephone on the ground and turned his attention to Dean. "She… she told him she loves him?"

Dean sighed heavily and Neville knew at once he was not okay. His breathing was sharp, quick, a panic. "Mate, I can't do this. I can't. I don't like her anymore. I can't."

"No," Neville offered, "mate, just keep at it. She'll come around some time, I promise. If she kissed you, she must feel something."

"Neville, don't you understand?" Dean let out an anguished breath. "I love her."

Neville's jaw fell open. "You… you love her?"

"God, it sounds so stupid coming out of my mouth," Dean stomped the ground. "I do. I know I do. I love her. Don't you feel that way with Lenore?"

"I-I…" he seemed to be thinking. "I can't say I love her. That's a lot. Like, a lot a lot. I fancy her a great deal. More than I ever imagined myself fancying her when I met her. And I can see myself loving her, after a few dates or whatever. But… I don't know."

"Oh Merlin," Dean moaned into his hands. "If you don't even love Lenore, I must sound completely mental!"

"No! If… if you feel that way, then you feel that way. It'll be okay."

Dean laid out on the ground and stared at the ceiling. He noticed a small crack in the drywall and made a mental note to remind his father it required patching. His eyes closed as he said, "It's not going to be okay though."

"You don't know that."

"I do, though."

Neville swallowed audibly. "What… what do you want me to say to Lenore?"

Dean placed the crook of his elbow over his face. "Just tell her thanks and goodnight."

Neville picked up the telephone once again. "Len?"

She snapped out of her daze. "Yeah?"

"Dean says thank you and goodnight."

"Wait!" she said. "How is he?"

"He's... he's not taking it well, but don't worry."

"Nev," she whispered. "Take care of him, please."

"I will."

"Alright." Her voice was even quieter than before. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

"And thanks for the snog."

He could hear her giggles, so he exhaled a bit laughter. "N-no problem. H-hopefully... w-we can do that again sometime."

"Oh, we will," she teased. "Goodnight, Nev."

His stomach churned. "Goodnight, Len."

The telephone clicked and she had hung up. The second he set the phone on the receiver, Dean groaned. "I hate this. I hate everyone. I hate my life. I hate Margaux."

"You don't."

"I hate what she did to me," he sat up so quickly that Neville visibly retreated. "I hate that I know how great she feels on top of me. I hate that she kissed me and she was so bloody good at it. I hate that I've seen her so vulnerable and I couldn't do anything except kiss her, when I shouldn't have put myself in that situation to begin with. I hate myself for not telling her how I felt before all this Michael drama. Merlin, I hate myself most of all. I wish I could just scream."

At once, the realization dawned on him and he stood up. "I'm going outside to scream."

As he made his way toward the steps, Neville asked, "You're not really, are you?"

"Come on, Longbottom," Dean ushered him down the carpeted stairs. "Come scream with me."

The two boys exited the party through the sliding glass doors leading to the backyard. Dean scuffed to the garden and stood on a stepping stone. Neville joined him along the pathway, careful to avoid stomping on any plants. Dean peered up to the night sky, which tonight took on a strange greyish-red tone from the nearby London air pollution. The stars could not be seen through this smog, but it comforted Dean to know the atmosphere was having just as bad a night as he was.

"On three, we scream. One… two… three…"

The scream travelled from Dean's diaphragm, up his throat, across his tongue, and out his mouth. His lips vibrated as the scream overtook his entire body. He had no thoughts or emotions or ideas, only screaming. Neville yelled along with him, albeit with less vigor. The sounds filled his ears until they went numb, never once stopping to allow him a breath. The scream filled his mind completely until he collapsed to the ground and sat on the stepping stone. He buried his face in his knees and tears stung his eyes.

Neville slowly sat next to him in the dirt. He did not say a word and Dean knew he kept his eyes to the sky, as he did not know what to say. The pair sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity. The thumping music of the party could not be heard with George's strong silencing charm, but only the faint, gruff barking of a large dog and the occasional automobile muffler echoed under the dome of red smog.

Dean sniffed. "I just wish she cared about me. Even just a little bit."

The barking grew louder and combined with the usual suburbia noises: a car rolling over the cracked streets, cicadas chirping in the trees, an airplane passing above. It all surrounded his ears and engulfed his body until it felt like the entire world and all its sounds came crashing down on his shoulders, crushing him into a fine sand, where he would blow away with the warm summer breeze.

"Dean," whispered Neville, "I'm sure she cares about you."

He was too tired to argue with Neville. Nothing the boy could say would alleviate his distress.

"I just want to go to bed," he said weakly.

"Do you want to kick everyone out?"

"No… I probably couldn't sleep anyway."

Neville glanced down to watch and noticed it was almost one a.m. "I was supposed to be home a while ago. But if you need me to stay, I will."

Dean shook his head. "Don't get in trouble for me."

Neville hesitated. "Okay, but mate, if you need me tomorrow, let me know. Sorry. I hope the rest of your night goes okay. It'll all work out."

Dean sat in silence, head in his lap, as Neville got up to leave. After about ten minutes of precious silence, he gathered the courage to reenter his house. The music played on shuffle, "This is How We Do It" by Montell Jordan currently blasted. Dean rolled his eyes at the couples grinding to this awful song. He plopped down on the couch, drifting in and out of consciousness as "No Diggity," began to play.

Dean wished Lenore had not left him alone, giving Margaux an opportunity to talk to him. No, that was selfish. Neville got to kiss her because of that. He needed to direct his attention to himself and his own feelings. He really did love Margaux, but there was no way she would ever even fancy him after this. He made up his mind right then and there to get over her. Margaux would one day be a brief flicker in his memory.

"OI FINNIGAN! GET OVER HERE YA CLUNGE MUNCHER!"

Dean snapped from his thought as he witnessed Seamus running from the kitchen to the living room. Terry Boot tackled Seamus and they both fell over the couch, laughing hysterically. They scrambled up and raised their fists, play fighting in the middle of the room.

"Oi! Seamus!"

Seamus did not even acknowledge Dean's call. Instead, he continued to swing at Terry Boot, who returned the punches with a laugh. Dean lunged for Seamus and attempted to the drunken boy before he destroyed something or someone, but Seamus was too quick.

"Alright, break it up!" Dean shouted. "You're going to fucking wreck my house."

With that, Seamus swung at Terry, who backed into a floor lamp resting near the couch that was pushed against the wall. The lamp swiftly shattered and spread sharp glass across the carpet.

"Well, fuck!" Dean said. He tried to step in between the boys, ducking to avoid their punches.

As Seamus headed toward Terry, he threw a drink from the coffee table to the side. Instead of hitting Terry, the vodka and cranberry juice flew straight into Ginny Weasley, soaking her shirt.

"Stand aside, Thomas," a very drunk Angelina Johnson announced.

She took out her wand and performed a spell to unite the glass shards back into the shape of a lamp shade. She turned and pointed her wand at Seamus and Terry and shouted "Petrificus Totalus!"

Seamus and Terry's bodies immediately became immobile. Only their mouths could move. "HEY!" Seamus screamed.

"Thanks Angelina," Dean said, as he lifted the lamp off the ground and put it back in its proper place.

Angelina nodded and said, "I'll let them go in a minute when they calm down."

"I appreciate it," Dean said.

He shifted to Ginny. "You okay?"

She was holding the front of her shirt away from her body in an attempt to air it out. "I can't go home smelling like vodka. Mum will kill me."

"Here, I'll help you clean it," Dean said. "Follow me."

Dean led Ginny down the hall to the laundry room. "How much longer are you going to be here?" he asked.

"Probably until two. My mum thinks I'm at Fred and George's," she said.

"Okay, perfect," Dean said. He opened a clean laundry basket and fished around for a spare shirt. He pulled out one of Camila's oversized t-shirts that read "BACKSTREET BOYS" and tossed it at Ginny. "Go change into this and hand me your old shirt. I'll wash it in the sink with some detergent and toss it in the dryer."

Ginny looked down at the shirt. "What does 'Backstreet Boys' mean?"

"It's a Muggle band," Dean shrugged. "It's my oldest sister's shirt."

"As long as it's nothing bad," Ginny said. "They look like a group of gigolos."

She went to the bathroom and returned with her shirt for Dean. He filled the laundry room sink up with water and added a bit of laundry detergent. He swished it around in the water for a bit as Ginny sat on the counter in silence.

Suddenly, she said, "You fancy Margaux, don't you?"

Dean froze. Where did that come from? Margaux must have talked to Ginny after their ordeal tonight. Unless she didn't. He couldn't risk it. "Don't be daft. Of course not."

Ginny laughed. "I'm not stupid. That's how I can tell you fancy her."

"And you fancy Harry," Dean asserted. "I'm not stupid either."

Ginny turned the color of her hair. "How— how did you know that?" she sputtered.

"I see the way you look at him," Dean said. "Like a puppy following a treat."

Ginny crossed her arms and thought a moment. "Does Harry ever talk about me?"

"I wouldn't know, mate," Dean said. "Why don't you ask Ron?"

"I would never."

Dean hesitated. "Does Margaux talk about me?"

"Sometimes," Ginny admitted.

Dean perked up. "What does she say?"

He rinsed Ginny's shirt off in some running water.

"That's classified."

He tossed her shirt in the dryer and screwed the dial for thirty minutes. "Bullshit. Tell me."

Ginny laughed. "I cannot reveal that information."

"Yes, you can!"

"She hardly ever talks about you. Mostly just when you're being annoying."

Dean thought a moment. He jumped on the counter and sat next to Ginny. "Did she tell you what happened tonight?"

"No?"

Dean partially regretted bringing this topic up. He did not exactly feel right coming between Margaux and her best friend. But at the moment, he did not care. "She kissed me."

"SHE KISSED YOU?"

"She more than kissed me. She was on top of me on a bed."

"WHOA WHOA WHOA. BACK UP."

So, Dean told Ginny the story of the night's events, from Margaux's panic attack to their snog session to her running away. As he poured his heart out, Ginny appeared to be deep in thought, taking in his words and mulling them over.

"Oh, Dean, I'm sorry. I really am. I don't know why she did that."

"I do," he sighed. "Because I was there. That's the only reason. It could have been any boy there and she would have kissed him because she felt vulnerable."

Ginny placed an arm around his shoulder. They pair sat in silence for a few minutes, only the tumbling noise of the dryer to keep them company.

"I know how you feel," Ginny said after a while. "I've fancied Harry off and on for years. Literally, years. And he's given no sign he even acknowledges my presence."

"Margaux is the same. I don't think she could ever think about me in a romantic way."

Ginny nodded. After a moment, she asked, "How can we get them to notice us?"

"I don't know," Dean sighed, "but I would do anything for her to realize I can be more than just her friend. Got any ideas?"

Ginny shrugged.

Then, a thought crossed her mind. "What if—? No, it's stupid."

"What is it? I'm sure it's not."

"I was just thinking," Ginny said, "Margaux only notices you when she's annoyed with you, because that's the main times she really interacts with you—"

"Gee, thanks."

"No— listen. And I only talk to Harry when I'm around his friends. So, I was thinking… what if we pretend to date each other to get closer to them? It's crazy though, I don't want to seem like a stalker—"

Dean cut her off. "No, it's brilliant. We make them jealous!"

"Are you serious?" Ginny raised her eyebrows.

"Yeah!" Dean said. "I guarantee it will work on Harry. He's the jealous type."

"So is Margaux," Ginny said.

"You don't have a problem doing this to your friend?"

"No," Ginny said, "as far as I'm concerned, this can only benefit her. I hate that Michael bloke. If this shows her how shitty he is, then it will help her. We can show her what a good relationship is and she'll see you're a part of it."

Dean nodded. "Alright, let's do this."

He held out his hand. She shook it with force.

"Ginny, will you pretend to be my girlfriend?"

"Dean," she said, pretending to cry and fan away her tears, "I would love to have you as my fake boyfriend."

"Perfect!" he said. "But we have to set some ground rules."

"Of course," Ginny said. "First of all, don't kiss me unless Harry or Margaux is around."

"Done," Dean said.

"Second, we can't go on dates with other people. You have to act like my boyfriend, you can't be playing Seven Minutes or any of those games on the weekend or people will know."

"Done."

"Third, this is a casual relationship. Neither us ever say 'I love you' in any circumstance, especially not near Margaux and Harry. They won't want to mess with a serious relationship. We're just having fun."

"Good thinking."

"And lastly," Ginny said, "Don't tell anyone this is fake. Anyone. Not even Neville or Seamus."

"But they know I fancy Margaux. And I'm sure your friends know you fancy Harry."

"Doesn't matter. Just tell them you hooked up with me at this party and decided to focus on me instead. I'll say the same thing."

"By 'hooked up' you mean…?"

Ginny smiled. "Just say 'hooked up'. It's intentionally vague to make people believe what they want to believe. But if people pressure you, just say we made out. Nothing serious. I don't need the Slytherins calling me a slut, either."

Dean nodded. "Yeah, no. Okay, we can do that. People will believe it. Look at us."

He squeezed Ginny's shoulder. "We'll look good together."

She laughed. "Well, that is all that matters in a teenage relationship."

"Exactly. Also, I just remembered that I told Neville I wanted to get over Mar. He'll just think you're my rebound."

"Gee, thanks," Ginny rolled her eyes. "My friends won't ask questions. I just dumped Michael Corner right before the end of last term. They'll expect me to move on about now. I'll keep you updated on how Margaux acts."

"And I'll tell you about Harry."

She smiled as the dryer dinged. Dean hopped off the counter and retrieved Ginny's shirt. He tossed it to her and she put it on over the Backstreet Boys shirt, maneuvering out of the child's shirt from underneath her own and folding it in the laundry basket.

"Come on," she said, "Wanna go make out a little on the couch, show everyone we hooked up for proof?"

Dean's hand froze on the doorknob. "I guess. It'll take some getting used to."

She nodded. "Alright, fake boyfriend, let's do this."

"Okay, fake girlfriend, I'm ready."

Except, he could never be ready for what would happen in the upcoming months.