ONE
HERMIONE Granger had tried.
Really, she did!
Valiantly, she might add, did she try to introduce good Muggle culture into the Wizarding World. Things like religion, Shakespeare, modern philosophy, beautiful music, and inspiring history. All of the beautiful and enriching aspects that made Muggle culture what it was today. She wanted Pureblood culture to embrace it, to be proud of the advances and beauties that Muggles could make.
This, however...was not exactly what she had in mind.
"...so tune in on all of your new little telly-visions two weeks from Sunday for the first ever episode of 'George Weasley's Most Eligible!' Sponsored by-"
"This is bollocks," Hermione hissed at her new, wizard television before shutting it off with a swish of her wand. Her flat went quiet, aside from her irritated huffs and her redheaded friend's excited laughter.
"I think it's brilliant," Ginny Weasley declared beside her, "besides, you are the one who introduced the entire family to-oh, what is it called-"
"Garbage?" Hermione supplied bitterly.
Ginny shot her a look before she continued, "reality television." Hermione just stared back at her best friend in annoyance and huffed again.
"I should have known better than to show Molly Weasley 'The Bachelor,'" Hermione grumbled as she sunk lower into the couch, side-eyeing at Ginny and glaring at the high-tec wizard invention in front of her face. Ginny rolled her eyes and said, "it's actually based on the island version; you know, the one where there are multiple men and women there to date whoever they want on the show, not just the one man with multiple women there just to date him. Blimey, what is that called?"
"Bachelor in Paradise," Hermione begrudgingly supplied with a frown and a large harrumph as she sank into her seat on the couch. "I really don't want to talk about this anymore; I haven't seen you since you came back from Paris! How was the match? How are you?" Ginny merely shrugged next to her before giving a heavy sigh.
Immediately, Hermione shot up from the couch and glanced over at her friend with concerned eyes. She knew that sigh; that was her Harry-and-I-are-having-trouble-again sigh, her I'm-so-distraught-but-too-distraught-to-say-anything sigh; and, as Hermione gave her dearest friend the once over, she noted that Ginny did look rather sad today.
"G," Hermione cautiously prodded, sidling up next to her friend on the loveseat and giving her warm, yet concerned, eyes. "What's going on with you?" Ginny sighed again and Hermione watched as her redheaded friend's brown eyes started filling to the brim with tears that she stubbornly held in, not allowing them to fall down her pale cheeks.
"I'm going on George's new show," Ginny quietly declared, looking at Hermione through tear-filled, half-lidded eyelids to gauge her reaction. Hermione recoiled a little bit in shock, taken aback by her friend's bold decision.
"You're-you're what?" Hermione gasped incredulously, frantically searching her friend's eyes for any semblance of an explanation. "You're going on his stupid Bachelor ripoff show? Ginny why?"
"Well-"
"What about Harry?" Ginny went silent instantly at her question and soon after began to sob. Hermione's blood ran cold as guilt ran over her. She had no idea what she did, but she had obviously done something wrong. Hermione's arms went around her friend as she desperately tried to comfort her, and Ginny threw her arms around her right back and buried her face in Hermione's neck.
Ginny sobbed for nearly half an hour when she finally began to calm down. She wiped her red-rimmed eyes and shook her head, likely to clear her jumbled mind. She finally turned to face Hermione, and with a deep breath said, "Harry won't open up to me anymore, Hermione. Ever since the damn war, he won't tell me how he's feeling, or what he wants and needs from me, and he refuses to progress our relationship any further."
Hermione blinked, confused. "But I thought that the two of you were talking about getting engaged?" She questioned, pulling off of the couch and twirling the ends of her curls anxiously. She was worried about Harry-they all were-and she didn't know what to do when it seemed like he continuously alienated the best woman in his life.
"No," Ginny grumbled, "I was talking about getting engaged. To you. Harry wants nothing to do with any of it! Sure he'll have fun with me sometimes— buy me nice things, take me out on expensive dates, have sex with me-but Merlin forbid he even think about getting engaged. Or moving in together-or even putting a bloody label on our relationship!"
"Ginny-"
"No, stop, Hermione." Ginny choked back a sob. "I know what you're going to say; that the war and everything preceding it was put completely on Harry's shoulders, that he's still recovering and it wasn't an easy thing to go through or to get over. I know he has lingering trauma, Hermione, but do I deserve to be cast aside because of it? Truly?" Ginny's words tugged at Hermione's heartstrings and with a heavy sigh, she wrapped her arms around her best friend once more.
"I was actually going to say that that sounds terribly hard and you don't deserve any of it," Hermione amended, resting her head on top of Ginny's. "The war was hard and Harry did go through a lot; but you're right, Gin. If he loves you, he should be man enough to be with you completely; and alternatively, if he doesn't love you, he should be man enough to tell you that he doesn't love you and allow you both to move on with your lives."
"He didn't take it well," Ginny admitted, quirking her lip to the side as she often did when discussing something rather uncomfortable. "When I told him I was thinking about dating other people, I mean. I didn't explicitly tell him that I would be on the show, though..." Ginny trailed off guiltily.
"I imagine," Hermione muttered with a nod. "What did he say?"
Ginny groaned. "Oh, you know, the usual," she said, "that I just needed to give him more time and be more patient with him. I argued that I have been patient for-what, five years if you count sixth and seventh year- and that I was hurt by his lack of commitment. I told him that if he wanted me to stay with him, he'd have to tell me he loved me now and that he wanted to move forward with me."
The implications of what Harry didn't do hung heavily in the air until eventually Hermione asked, "and?"
"And nothing," Ginny gasped out, beginning to sob again. "He literally said absolutely nothing, Hermione! He stood there, shook his head, and Floo'd out somewhere-Godric knows where." Hermione squeezed her friend tighter in her sympathy-and anger towards her other best friend. Those two boys of hers may be the greatest friends she'd ever had, but they sure were bloody stupid.
Ron and herself had ended things between them a year ago, after an engagement that lasted two and a half years. He had kept pushing the wedding date farther and farther out until one day, Hermione confronted him, confused.
"I already bought the dress and booked and rebooked a venue twice Ronald," she had said, slamming her coffee down on their shared table. "Why is this date no good, either? What is your excuse this time?"
His response had shattered her heart.
"I don't love you Hermione!" He had hissed-and then, as if he hadn't realized he was going to say that, he immediately blanched and covered his mouth. The damage had been done; Hermione broke down in tears, Ron began to sob, and he pulled her over to the couch where he explained that he thought his feelings were romantic but they just weren't and he couldn't pretend for his family's sake anymore that they were.
They didn't part ways amicably, but reunited as friends six months later. While their friendship wasn't the same and perhaps would never be the same, Hermione was still grateful to have a semblance of him back in her life. She wasn't in love with him either anymore, although it took her an embarrassing amount of time to realize that. One day, she had just woken up, felt alright again, and realized there were a lot of things she was also pretending to be.
She was still too much of a coward (what happened to that Gryffindor bravery, she'd never know) to demand a promotion at the Ministry. She had worked so incredibly hard to not be handed anything for free due to her Golden Trio status, that the Minister of Magic had put her working under Helga Beaufort-an awful woman who, for whatever reason, hated Hermione. Apparently not being handed anything for free, or even easily, meant putting her under the most spiteful and difficult woman in the world.
They worked under the magical creatures division; something that Hermione had started out being really passionate about. She went into it with big dreams of freeing house elves from slavery, ending the stigma against werewolves, discovering and freeing new species-the possibilities were endless and frankly, intoxicating.
But the minute she met her new boss, Helga, things started to take a turn for the worse. Helga and her coworkers-a mix of women who were much prettier than Hermione and they knew it, too- had successfully accomplished their goal of isolating Hermione to the point of making her feel like she was much less than. They laughed at her ideas during meetings, they pretended to fund her projects until something "better" came around, they even politely mocked her when she called off her engagement to Ron. She's been wondering for the past year when and how she was going to leave and do something better, but she hadn't gotten up the courage to just do it yet.
Possibly because once Ron broke up with her, she did start feeling inferior to other women. Especially when she looked at the women that he chose to date in the Prophet…
"Ginny I'm sorry," Hermione lamented as she sucked in a deep breath, pushing her memories and regrets out of her mind. "I wish I could tell you what he's thinking, but I honestly don't have any idea." Ginny shrugged and smiled a brilliant smile, wiping the tears away from her eyes. If Hermione hadn't watched her as she cried, she would've never known that she'd been crying in the first place. Hermione, on the other hand, could never pull that off.
"You know, I think that I said those exact same words to you when Ron broke off your engagement," Ginny beamed and prodded Hermione with her elbow in her side, making her yelp and nearly fall off of the little strip of loveseat that she had managed to actually claim. Hermione laughed and Ginny even managed a little giggle.
"I think that you did, actually," Hermione confirmed, scrunching her nose in her laughter. Ginny's face fell and suddenly turned somber again as she pulled Hermione into an embrace, burying her face in her bushy hair.
"What the hell is wrong with those two boys?"
"I have no idea, Gin."
"Bastards."
Hermione chuckled. "Indeed."
The Burrow was typically loud, but the Sunday following Ginny's confession it was particularly buzzing. George's dimwitted new show was set to start filming the next night, and the Weasley clan was quite ecstatic; it had gotten press in every major magazine and tabloid, and George Weasley was somebody the wizarding world was now keen on watching. The knowledge made Molly Weasley glow.
"You'd think he cured cancer," Hermione grumbled, her form pressed into a shadow in the corner of the large living room. "With the way they're treating him." Harry scoffed beside her, also retreating into the shadows to hide from as many Weasley's as possible. As his and Ginny's breakup recently went public, Molly Weasley was not the most understanding of women.
"It is sort of ridiculous, isn't it?" Her dearest friend agreed, shaking his head at the spectacle before him. Most of the Weasley's donned famous Molly sweaters with George's signature red rose sewn into the front, just like it would be on the show. They really did watch too many episodes of The Bachelor, Hermione thought to herself with a roll of her eyes. She caught Ron out of the corner of them sneaking a biscuit cheekily whilst boasting about the women he would be dating on the show. He, evidently, would also be appearing on George Weasley's Most Eligible. Imagine that.
"I can't believe Ron is leaving his supermodel girlfriends to do George's show," Hermione finally voiced, eyeing Harry closely to gauge his reaction. Her friend was stoic for a minute, but then he winced as he thought more on it. The boy was never good at hiding his emotions; but then again, neither was she.
"Ron really does want to find real love, Hermione," Harry insisted, watching her carefully to ensure that he was not hurting her feelings. "I know that you wanted it to be with you."
"A long time ago, Harry," Hermione sighed, giving him a stern glance that warned him to choose his words carefully. "I'm not in love with him anymore; I just think the show is stupid and I would hate for him to further tarnish his reputation. You know if he does something incredibly stupid that George won't edit it out. He's all about being authentic these days."
"Speaking of authenticity," Harry changed the subject, clearly uncomfortable. That boy was as subtle as a mandrake. "Did you know that George has invented a sort of charmed, microscopic camera lens to fly around the Manor to spy on people and catch as much footage as they can? He did it to ensure that there could be no secrets and that the audience truly does get to see everything; even the boring parts."
Hermione snorted; it was genius, really. Microscopic, flying cameras-with microphones attached, she presumed-to secretly record every conversation, every kiss, every quarrel? She hated to admit how much the idea impressed her that she-
Wait.
"The Manor?" Hermione hissed, suddenly animated and darting in front of Harry when he tried to step away. Harry's eyes went wide with fear, a look he'd subjected her to many times before. "As in the infamous Malfoy Manor? As in the place where we were tortured and many people were murdered? The place that has been completely locked down and isolated to just Malfoy and his mother ever since the war?" Even though she was yelling at him in accusation, she genuinely thought that she might be wrong; there had to be some other Manor somewhere, because surely George would never film his TV show in such a dreary, dark, and evil place. However as she glared at her best friend for an answer, he could only chomp his lip nervously and avoid her menacing stare.
Outraged, Hermione cried, "What in Merlin's name is that boy thinking? He can't do his show at Malfoy Manor! For Godric's sake, why would he want to?"
"Listen Hermione, George isn't as dumb as you'd like to give him credit for," Harry cut in, shushing her nervously and darting his eyes around the room to ensure that she hadn't made too large of a scene. "If he's choosing the Manor, there must be a damn good reason for it; plus, if it makes you feel any better, I heard that Narcissa Malfoy renovated the entire Manor. Most of the rooms we were…...you know, in, don't even exist anymore. The whole layout is completely different."
"If it makes me feel any better," Hermione hissed under her breath with a roll of her eyes and a cross of her arms. She leaned back against the wall in her little shadowy corner, but her solitude was short lived when Molly Weasley called, "It's ready! Everybody gather around the table now!"
Harry shot Hermione a pleading look and beckoned her over to the table with him. Begrudgingly she went, and she told herself that she would be completely silent for the whole meal, even though she hated what was surely to be the topic of conversation tonight. Even though her and Ron couldn't make things work, she really admired Molly and adored Arthur. She could be civil for them, even if their idiotic son was doing an idiotic tv show and their other idiotic son was making said tv show.
"What a blessed, beautiful Sunday!" Molly proclaimed as she flicked her wand and served up a plate of homemade, warm roast to every person seated at the long table. Everybody began greedily digging in-when Molly Weasley made you food, you didn't waste it-and just as Hermione had predicted, the topic of conversation quickly turned to George's new show.
"The roses will switch off every week obviously," George was saying between mouthfuls of mashed potatoes and gravy, "although the men will start with them first. So a few women will be going home; but they will get the roses first during the next week. Just like Bachelor in Paradise, but instead of an island, we're at a newly redeemed mansion."
Redeemed is not a word that I would ever use to describe anything to do with Draco Malfoy, Hermione pondered bitterly between sharp stabs at her roast with her fork.
"I'm just so incredibly proud that three of my children will be participating in such a wonderful contribution to the Wizarding World," Molly gushed, her chubby cheeks turning red with pride and tears filling the brims of her eyes. Hermione doubted that 'George Weasley's Most Eligible' was a wonderful contribution to the Wizarding World, as Molly so eloquently put it, but she knew better than to pipe up with her opinion on the matter. Instead, she gave Molly a tight smile when she glanced at her and went back to picking at her roast eagerly. She wasn't sure if the grumbling in her tummy was hunger or an eagerness to end the conversation.
Nobody said anything else for a while until Harry, who Hermione suspected had been holding in his question for quite a while, asked, "Three?"
If Hermione thought that the room was silent before, she was wrong. The entire Burrow was completely void of noise now, and Harry looked around in confusion as nobody dared to answer his question. Hermione glanced down at Ginny who was biting her lip and staring at her plate of food guiltily and nervously.
"I mean," Harry continued, and Hermione could hear the hurt and tears threatening to thicken his words in his throat, "It's George's show obviously, so that's one. Ron is going on to find love, so that's two; I'm very curious to know who the third one is." It was hard not to stare down towards Ginny, but Hermione managed it; she didn't even look up when Ginny cleared her throat.
"I'm going on the show too, Harry," she admitted quietly. Hermione could feel her anxiety from across the table and it took everything in her not to wince, or to show any kind of emotion at all. Harry, who was seated next to her tensed; he was barely holding it together, and she knew she couldn't do anything to help him. Merlin, as bad as she felt for him, this whole fiasco with Ginny was his fault.
"For-to help behind the scenes, you mean?" Harry prodded, a note of pleading to his voice. Hermione thought for a moment that he sounded hopeful, but he didn't; he was begging. Begging Ginny to tell him that what he was thinking was wrong. To deny what was really going to happen there.
"You know, maybe we should move on to dessert-"
"No, Harry," Ginny responded, cutting her poor, helpful mother off. "I'm going to be on the show. To find love." Hermione finally looked up; Harry was clenching his fork so tightly that his entire fist had turned as white as a ghost. Ginny was determinedly staring at him straight in the eye, the brave thing that she was. Hermione and Ron shared a glance of mutual awkwardness, both trying to find a way to alleviate the situation if at all possible.
"I just don't understand, Ginny," Harry responded monotonously, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. The very conversation he was having. "Why do you need to do that? You and I-"
"You have made it very clear that you and I have no progressing future," Ginny interrupted, beginning to get fiery and upset. "I deserve to be with somebody who wants a future with me, Harry!"
"That's enough," Molly Weasley commanded, and when she commanded, you listened. Ginny quieted down immediately and Harry, tears in his frustrated eyes, turned away from the table and decided to stare at the wall. Arthur and Bill excused themselves from the table awkwardly, and Hermione linked her ankle with Ginny's from under the table comfortingly. Ginny didn't look up at her, but she tapped her with her foot and Hermione knew that she was indeed using her for support. Fleur held her newborn baby Rosali in her arms, but from Harry's other side, began to whisper something comfortingly to him that Hermione couldn't quite catch.
"I know that this is, well, quite tense," George interrupted. Hermione couldn't help but glare down the table at him, feeling as though this was somewhat his fault, even though logically she knew that it really wasn't at all. "But you know, Harry, with the way that the show works, you could always join the contestants on a later episode. We bring in at least two new people each week so people are always getting sent home. Could give you a chance to resolve things with Ginny here-" Ginny growled at George's intrusion- "or, you know, find love elsewhere?" This time, Ginny stood from the table and left the room, unable to hear anymore talk about Harry with anybody but her, presumably.
"I don't know about that George," Harry sighed as he rubbed his bloodshot eyes. He looked exhausted and Hermione wondered what exactly was going through that boy's head. A thought she often had throughout the years, in all honesty.
"Bloody hell, come on Harry!" George prodded excitedly, still rapidly vacuuming up his entire plate of food as he spoke. Molly was still watching the scene apprehensively as a newly calmed Ginny rejoined the table and focused solely on her plate of food. "It'll be great for me if you joined; you could even leave if you hated the experience. Shite, even just having you on for five minutes is guaranteed to get me thousands of new viewers, Harry!" George was turning red in the face with his animations as he tried valiantly to convince their friend.
"Language," Molly admonished.
"Sorry, Mum," George offered blandly without even a glance her way. His steely, determined gaze was completely focused on Harry and only Harry now. "It's not only for me Harry, it'll be fun for you-all of your friends are trying it out! I mean, we've established Ginny obviously but there's also Ron, your best friend, and Neville, Luna-shite, even Hermione is doing it-"
"What?" Hermione hissed, shooting up from her spot at the table. In her haste she had knocked over and spilled the gravy, causing George to actually startle and break his gaze from Harry to watch Hermione. Her hands were wringing her napkin nervously as she stared him down. "That's not funny George; don't lie to Harry about me doing the show just to get yourself a couple more watchers-"
"But I'm not lying," George interrupted, visibly confused and honestly, quite nervous. "You signed the contract, Hermione. We have a valid deal that you'll be one of the starting contestants on the show." Hermione was stunned into silence; what contract was he referencing? She hadn't seen George in months, let alone gotten anywhere near enough to his shop to sign a bloody contract!
"Very funny, George," Hermione growled, "I'm not laughing."
"And I'm not joking-"
"Hermione," Ginny piped up from the table. Hermione looked over to her friend, a sinking feeling in her gut. Ginny had a guilty look painted across her previously sad features, and she was gnawing a hole into her bottom lip. "I signed you up for the show, Hermione."
The room was silent except for a thick fog of tension that had seemed to settle over everybody during the course of the last hour. Arthur and Bill still hadn't returned, and Hermione suspected that after they heard her next tantrum, they may never do so.
"Ginevra Molly Weasley-"
"No, wait, just hear me out for a minute, alright?" Ginny begged, running around the table towards Hermione and pulling her away from everybody else so that they could talk privately. Hermione was still fuming, but she allowed her friend to pull her away and out of the earshot of the others. She didn't want to let Molly hear her rip into her only daughter, after all.
"You better have a way to get me out of this Ginny, or I swear, you won't live long enough to get married because I'm going to kill you," Hermione threatened, subconsciously balling her hands into fists. Her curls were splayed all around her head in a wild manner; even her hair was more angry than usual.
"I don't have a way to get you out of it because it's a magically binding contract," Ginny explained levelly, trying to calm her friend down by being calm herself, "and besides, I don't want to get you out of it."
"No magic is that secure," Hermione argued, although she was unsure herself of what exactly she was dealing with here, "you're naive to think that there's no way out of it."
"Okay, fine, there is a way out of it," Ginny relented through gritted teeth, "but George didn't want a ton of people quitting the show before it even got started so he made it...difficult."
"Difficult?" Hermione prodded, getting more and more infuriated by each second that passed, "How. Difficult?"
Ginny grinned nervously and with a faux confident shrug of her shoulders answered, "Those who back out of the contract and don't appear on the show are legally and magically bound to help out on set for the duration of the show," she explained.
Oh. "That hardly sounds worse," Hermione scoffed.
"Well, you in particular would be doing hair and makeup. With Pansy Parkinson," Ginny finished explaining as she desperately held in a laugh.
Hermione's face fell. "What the hell kind of sick punishment-I can't even do hair and makeup! He wouldn't want me to do that!" And not to mention helping alongside that horrid woman-Pansy Parkinson could give Helga a run for her money.
"No, he doesn't," Ginny agreed, "but he'd be willing to let you, just to make you work for Parkinson. As payment, you know, for backing out of the show."
"Hold on," Hermione interrupted, rubbing her eyes tiredly as her stress began to build, "How can I break a contract that I never even signed?" She had her now and she knew it; there could be no magically binding contract if she never signed it, and she was certain that she didn't. After all, she likely would have remembered signing a contract to air her love life out for George Weasley to exploit to the Wizarding World; as if Rita Skeeter wasn't enough…
"Well, that's quite the funny thing," Ginny giggled nervously, and it was then that Hermione realized that everybody's eyes were still watching the two of them dramatically, hanging onto every last word. Harry, in particular, looked quite interested in the conversation. "You actually did sign the contract, Hermione."
Hermione's attention whipped straight back to Ginny and she huffed, ready to argue, when Ginny continued, "Do you remember that Muggle doorman?"
Hermione's open mouth closed quickly in confusion at Ginny's words; Muggle doorman? She lived in a decent apartment complex in downtown Muggle London, but it surely wasn't nice enough to have its own doorman.
"Ginny, I don't have the faintest idea-"
"No, yes, Hermione, the Muggle who comes to your door and brings us-oh, what is it called again?-pizza?" Hermione nearly laughed at the way that Ginny pronounced 'pizza' but decided against it when she remembered she was quite angry with her still. Instead, she immediately began searching through her own memories for any recollection of the pizzaman having anything at all to do with George's show contract; when she ended up drawing multiple blanks, she just looked at Ginny with a sigh and shook her head in defeat.
"I don't see how the pizzaman plays into this," Hermione finally admitted when Ginny didn't say anything. Ginny drew a deep, deep breath, and then slowly let it out before saying, "A couple of weeks ago, you ordered us a pizza and the pizzaman came to the door. I noticed you were in a rush and I told you he needed you to sign something for the payment?"
Hermione's eyes darkened as she dawned with recognition; she was quite frazzled that day. Helga had been running her around ragged, playing a job an intern should have been doing instead of her. Fetching coffees, making lunches-Hermione had been so tired that day that she hadn't had the energy to just say no to the horrible woman. When she finally got back to her place, Ginny was waiting for her on the couch and she was too exhausted to make dinner. Instead, she told Ginny that they were having another Muggle 'delicacy'. Ginny must have taken advantage of her mental state and tricked her into signing the bloody contract.
That all made sense, but what didn't make sense was why? Why did Ginny want her on the show in the first place? She knew how she felt about it; Merlin, everybody knew how she felt about it! Her best guess was that Ginny didn't want to be alone in her television journey, especially given her breakup with Harry. But then again, Ginny said that this occured two weeks ago; before her breakup with Harry was even official. Sure, their relationship had been on the rocks long before that, but to the best of her knowledge, the breakup had happened fairly recently. More recently than a couple of weeks ago.
"I cannot believe you," Hermione growled, the telltale sign of tears beginning to prick at her eyes. The last thing that she needed was for the entire Wizarding World to watch as yet another batch of eligible men looked her over and chose prettier, more successful women. The whole world already pitied her after her breakup with Ron; she hardly needed to publicize her lack of a love life, and the lack of interested men on national TV. Of course, that was why George wanted her on the show, she reasoned. The Wizarding World wanted to see the Golden Girl, Harry's Potter's 'bright' and 'clever' best friend try to find love. Of course, there was a good population of the Wizarding World who, Hermione surmised, would love to see her fail at that task as well.
"'Mione," Ron jumped in, leaning back in the chair he had now stolen next to Harry, "think of it this way. You only have to actually be on the show for one week; right? The men have the roses and they get to choose which women stay and which women go. So, just, don't accept the rose from anybody and go home. It's better than working with Pansy Parkinson, bloody hell, for three months. I mean, whose to say that anybody there will actually be interested in you anyways-"
"Wow," Hermione laughed bitterly, trying desperately not to let herself cry in front of her ex-fiancé, "thanks, Ronald." Ginny glared furiously at her brother and with clenched fists, began to open up her mouth when George jumped up from the table anxiously, clearing his throat so as to get everybody's attention.
"Well, that's not exactly entirely accurate," George piped up with a squeaky voice, adjusting his sweater and clearing his throat one more time anxiously. "You see, Hermione, the people in the Wizarding World adore you. They love to see the things that you're accomplishing, the friends that you make, but even more than all of that, they're begging to know just who you'll date next, get engaged to, marry. If I can be the one to show it to them-"
"George," Hermione interrupted, a dangerous edge of warning sharpening her voice, "you best get on with the, 'not entirely accurate' portion of your speech." George lost a little bit of color in his already pale face and he nodded.
"Right," he agreed. "You're a big moneymaker for me, Hermione. I need you on the show for longer than a single episode or two; so, in your contract, I specifically put that if any male were to offer you a rose, you're obligated to accept it that first week. Or, risk breeching your contract and work with Pansy, of course."
"Merlin," Hermione swore, rubbing her temples furiously with her thumbs. Her eyes began to be sore from holding in her tears and she took in a deep, soothing breath. She just needed to hold it in until the end of this conversation when she could go home and let everything out in the bathtub. "George, what if nobody even offers me a rose-you know, as Ron so sweetly suggested-then what? I can go home without breech of contract?" This was her best worst case scenario and she knew it; on the one hand, she could be done with the show and not have to ever lay her eyes on Parkinson. But, on the other hand, the entire Wizarding World would watch her try to fall in love, and fail. Again.
As if that's what she needed at work; even more reason for those spiteful, vain women to laugh and point their fingers at her like she was some kind of oddity, some joke she couldn't understand.
"Sure," George agreed, and then with a wide, shiteating grin, added, "although I have it on good authority that that will not happen." Hermione faltered and let her guard down, just for a second.
"I-what?" She asked, genuinely confused at his reaction. "What are you saying, George?"
"I'm not saying anything Hermione," George chuckled, "I'm simply insinuating that I might have it on good authority that one man is there specifically to pursue you-you know, maybe rekindle an old flame?"
Hermione balked; who the hell could he be talking about? Viktor Krum? He was the only other man she dated-and dated was a very generous term-besides Ron. And anyways, Viktor was engaged to some gorgeous model who attended Beaxbaton's with Fleur, last she had heard. Anybody other than that, she genuinely had no idea, and she knew he couldn't be referencing Ron. Even if he was still in love with her, he wouldn't embarrass himself enough to be rejected by her on live television.
"Fine," Hermione relented, sinking to the floor and running her hands through her unruly hair, "I give up: you win. I'll do the stupid show for the time alloted in my contract-but as soon as the second week is done and I give my rose out, you better believe I am rejecting everybody else's roses and going back home, George." It wasn't ideal; but, the way that she saw it, at least this route ensured that she didn't have to work with Pansy and that she also didn't have to be on the show for very long, while also reminding the Wizarding World that somebody actually could be interested in her, even just for a fleeting second. Given that George was correct with his information, of course.
"Hermione," Ginny cut in again, pulling her friend towards the door to ensure that they really weren't overheard this time, "can I explain myself?"
Hermione was exhausted; still, for her greatest friend, she said, "Sure, Gin. How about you Apparate with me to Hogsmeade and walk me home?" Ginny beamed and nodded eagerly as she went to fetch her coat, and Hermione pulled her red sweater on over her head, George's rose sitting squarely in the middle of her chest, mocking her. She hugged Molly goodbye and waved to Arthur, who was in the kitchen. Harry gave her a parting kiss on the cheek and whispered to her that she would be alright-she was Hermione Granger, after all. Brightest Witch of their age.
When Ginny returned with her bright yellow trench coat, she linked her arm with Hermione's and the two of them Apparated just outside of the Three Broomsticks. It was quiet, and quite desolate tonight, save for a lone Blaise Zabini in the corner. He gave them a small, sad smile when they walked in. Blaise worked in the Ministry as well, in a neighboring department, and Hermione saw him decently often. He was the one and only Slytherin from their year that she actually got on with; he didn't play an active part in the war, and view that as you would, Hermione quite liked Blaise. He was openly kind to her, and while he never outright apologized for his part in her torment at school, he certainly had implied that he was sorry from their few, brief interactions. For now, that was enough for her.
Ginny ordered them both a small amount of Firewhiskey to go, and then with a nod to Blaise, they left the pub. They walked the cobblestoned, dimly lit streets of Hogsmeade, as things were already closed and quieted for the night, save for the pubs and the new nightclubs that had popped up in recent years. The girls sipped on their warm alcohol gingerly, mindlessly turning familiar corners without really giving much thought to themselves or their surroundings. Both women seemed to be deep in thought; Hermione, worrying over her next few weeks, and Ginny, trying to piece together exactly what she had wanted to say to her best friend.
"Whyever you think that I did it," Ginny started off, "it probably isn't that." Hermione raised a single eyebrow at her friend but didn't comment, a silent permission of sorts for her to continue. "When Ron called off the engagement, Hermione, you became…...a shell of yourself, for a little while. You're finally getting back to the Hermione that we all know and love now, little by little, but you still aren't letting yourself be her fully yet. It's like you think that because Ron couldn't love you, that nobody ever will, Hermione; and I'm not saying that you need a man to love you, because you don't. None of us do, but damn it Hermione, you deserve it. I wish that you could see you the way that I see you, or even the way that Harry sees you."
"And what way is that?" Hermione questioned, gulping down her nerves and the last bit of her Firewhiskey.
"Brilliantly," Ginny answered without even a hesitation, beat, or a pause. "We think that you're brilliant, Hermione. And I don't just mean smart; you're brilliantly kind, and beautiful, and courageous. You let yourself get caught up in your lack of things, and you didn't let yourself see that there are so many men who would be interested in you Hermione. But between Ron leaving you and those awful bitches-"
"Ginny-"
"That you work for at the Ministry, you started letting yourself believe that you were less," Ginny continued on, just as they stopped right outside of Hermione's apartment complex. "It's sad really, Hermione, because you are so much more than you're letting them make you to be. And I just thought that if I could get you to go on George's show, that you would see that there was a plethora of men who see what Harry and I see. Just because you aren't opening your eyes to them, doesn't mean that they aren't out there-and I thought that the show would be the perfect setting to prove to you that people do still see you that way."
"Gin-"
"But if I was completely off base by signing you up for that, then I apologize, and I will find any way to get you out of it," Ginny finished, fishing out her own copy of the key to her friend's apartment and unlocking it for her the Muggle way. Hermione smiled; it was funny sometimes, and more satisfying than it should have been, to watch her Pureblood friends prefer the Muggle way of doing things. Ginny pushed open the door and then bravely looked Hermione in the eye, desperately trying to search for any kind of indication of how she might be feeling.
Hermione was touched; it was one thing to wonder how people felt about her, and another to hear it all laid out for her so kindly, if albeit a little bit blunt. She threw her arms around her friend who eagerly hugged her back, and they embraced for a long time while Hermione let a few tears escape onto Ginny's much too brightly colored coat.
"I really don't want to work with Pansy Parkinson," Hermione giggled and Ginny laughed along with her, relieved to hear her friend's acceptance of her apology. "And I don't think that George would be too keen on letting me go; so, while I wish you hadn't done it and I don't agree that it is a good decision for me, I forgive you. And I'll do the damn show for the required two weeks, get George his precious viewers, and then return to my life as normal. He can consider it my contribution and support and then never ask anything from me ever again."
Ginny actually threw her head back and laughed loudly at that before giving Hermione another hug goodbye and apparating back to the Burrow. When Hermione closed the door behind her, she sunk her back against it and sighed, letting her exhaustion take her over for a moment before drawing herself a nice bubble bath and immersing herself in the near-boiling water. With her eyes shut and the Firewhiskey running through her veins, she felt her muscles slowly relax until she began to fall asleep.
Removing herself from the tub, she squeezed her wet hair out and threw on a fluffy robe before falling onto her couch with a warm blanket, finally letting herself drift off to sleep.