Disclaimer: If I owned the Harry Potter phenomenon, I'd be making money off you. I'm not. SORRY it took so long!!!!
SEVEN
Four months later…
TIDBITS
By Sophia de Medici
Spotted: The Q's and A's Draft Correspondent Bridget Brady Finley walking hand-in-hand with boyfriend Appleby Arrow's owner Patrick Cadell, who appeared pensive after his club suffered massive fines for their Keeper Alex Woo's misconducts in a December 2003 game. Although the team has dropped several spots, the two seemed in good spirits as they ambled through London's Hyde Park the other day (See Photo 1).
Firebolt heirs, one half of the twins Alexis, and baby sister Chastity Carlisle, threw a big bash for the couple at the popular underground club, Le Dolce Alma, owned by Alexis's friend a year her senior, young heiress Alma Lin Hu. Former The Q's and A's columnist Margarita Li sat chatting with her old American school chums, with close friend Puddlemere United's Keeper and Captain Oliver Wood absent from the festivities.
Finley and Cadell's engagement was announced towards the end of the evening, and Puddlemere and Appleby athletes alike applauded on, including Puddlemere's trio of young players, Alexander Mortinsen, Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley, dressed to the nines in this season's latest trends. Their presence only encouraged more curiosity as to the whereabouts of their captain Oliver Wood and as to the relations between Potter and Weasley, caught kissing merely days before Christmas, near Weasley's old Notting Hill townhouse. Will the young hotshots end up closer than friends? Only time (and The Q's and A's) will tell.
Warning: The Quidditch/Gossip Future is Looking Dark…
An Admonition by B.B. Finley, and a Farewell
The high profile scene that Quidditch has become succulent with has been dwindling down to nearly a standstill since Margarita Li left her prominent position as The Q's and A's coveted lead columnist due to the politics of the office. With Puddlemere United so close to the cup, the normally thriving gossip surrounding the team's young and beautiful players has gone so dry there's nearly a famine. The youthful and physically appealing set is withdrawing into tight little shells of massive Scotland estates and private little back streets of London because of the threat the glare of celebrity imposes. The fine line between good journalism and good gossip has been crossed, and even the lives of the supposedly simple reporters have been damaged almost greatly by the media's attention. It is human nature to obsess over those with the more blessed than we, and in this case, we have beauty, talent and riches. But when does human nature cross into something animalistic and cruel? You make the choice. Until then, farewell.
B.B. Finley will be joining former columnist Margarita Li in a Carlisle House Publication, 'Metropolitan Magic', due out this summer. We wish them the best of luck.
Sincerely,
Katie Bell
Editor-In-Chief
Puddlemere United vs. the Montrose Magpies
By A.J. Lubbock
In less than two weeks time, the Puddlemere United and the Montrose Magpies, with much rest after the exhausting finals that led them to this point, will vie for a position in the finals for the World Cup. The race has been tight and set with the two teams, who have been battling all season for division placements, and are at the top of the league. The best of five game output is such a close race, even Bagman wouldn't bet on it.
Oliver rang the doorbell of Maggie's London penthouse patiently, shoving his hands into his pockets to prevent him from knocking too eagerly. He heard her traipse through the foyer he could barely remember, and he heard her voice.
"Hola, mi amor. ¿Sí, por supuesto, quién era más hablar a? Estoy tan solitario aquí. Pienso en cerrando el West End ático y moviendo directamente apenas al lugar viejo del Ginny en la Notting Hill. No, ninguno de esto es el defecto de Oliver. Juro, Amanda, no es apenas la política de esta carrera pequeña tonta. No, por supuesto no quiero volver a los States. ¿Usted está loco? ¿Hablé a Alexis la otra noche en alguna fiesta informal pequeña para Finley, la chica de Terras que utilicé para trabajar con? Bien, ella y Patrick finalmente obtuvo comprometido, y verdadero a su moda, ella por supuesto tuvo que tener un pequeño se junta, y Alexis habló con ella y con acerca de la unión de esa publicación que todos hablando acerca de, la "Metropolitan Magic". Ella me quiere para política y Finley para deportivo, y élla dice que él no quiere nada escrupuloso, apenas elegante. ¿Ella tema entero de la revista es una espalda del tiro a la Age of Enlightenment, verdad? Aunque hay alguna pregunta pequeña tonta que coloca artículos acerca de la vida y la filosofía, obtendré para ser un periodista político verdadero. ¿Fresco, no? Mi bondad, tengo que ir, Amanda, alguien a la puerta. Hasta luego, mi amor, y lo verán pronto, promeso."
The door opened and there she stood, in the raw glory of striped pajamas with a strange contraption in her hand. "Oliver." Maggie said, her voice ringing with surprise, and something of a scowl set in on her features. "Sorry I took so long."
Oliver tried to find a place to stare, and chose to focus on the contraption in her hand.
Her eyes followed his and she shrugged. "It's a phone. It's kind of like talking to someone in the fires, but you only hear their voice, and you have to press in a number…it's a long process, but my sister's in Muggle New York right now, so I don't have much of a choice."
Maggie's hot chocolate eyes were cold and her voice was flat. "Do you want to come in?"
Oliver nodded, and she rolled her eyes and walked into the spacious and bright apartment, letting him follow her in and close the door himself.
The apartment must have seemed especially bright due to the fact that it was a) the middle of the afternoon and b) it was nearly empty, save a few boxes.
Oliver cleared his throat. "Good afternoon."
"Save the salutations, Oliver, I'm about to order dinner. Join me?" Maggie's voice sounded tired and a bit guarded.
Oliver nodded. The walls were papered with fresh white sheets, as were the floors. "Moving?"
"I think so…the West End just isn't what it used to be anymore…or it doesn't mean as much to me anymore—what it stands for." Maggie rambled and then she broke into a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "What are you in the mood for?"
"I don't care." Oliver said, shrugging. "Whatever you want."
"You're my guest." Maggie snapped back too suddenly. "I insist, you choose."
"Um…I dropped in unexpectedly…by all means, just double whatever you were going to order." Oliver replied slowly.
"No, really, it doesn't matter." Maggie continued, again too quickly, and Oliver gave her and odd look, to which she retorted to with a sigh. "I'm sorry…I'm just a little sensitive right now and your chivalry is wasted on me. Really, I insist, you have to order…my brain is frazzled."
"Alright then." Oliver's thumbs twiddled together. "Are there any local places you know that would deliver?"
She paced around the kitchen, not surprisingly in heels to match her striped pajama pants, and pulled out a drawer with a hole-punched little book of paper menus of various sizes, held together with a shiny ribbon. She grinned at him sheepishly. "I've stayed in quite a bit these days."
"I remember the first time you took me out to Cannes…you couldn't keep your dress on and I couldn't figure out which way was most polite to look." Oliver murmured, taking the menu book from her.
"And here I thought I looked rather innocent for Cannes." Margarita replied, tilting her head to one side with the first smile that reached her pupils.
"You did…little black dress with the little beige ruffle—" A smile stretched across Oliver's lips lazily.
"It was a Fredrick's black mini-corset dress that laced up in the back." Margarita interrupted shortly. "It probably cost less than your watch."
"And that little cameo choker." Oliver whispered, flipping through the menu book casually.
"It was my grandmother's." Maggie said after a moment. "She died that summer."
"Do you still have it?" His reply was almost polite on top of being somewhat soothing…something Maggie found appealing.
"No, no…I gave it to my sister one day when I was high…she was so much more of a sentimentalist than I was…even when I was sober—I mean…I am sober." Another half-smile. "I've been for a while…a long while…since, well, that game so long ago."
There was a pause, and Oliver's tongue peeked out to lick his lower lip nervously. "Ah. So I see." Another pause. "I wasn't the only one who decided there had to be a change."
"I was very disappointed," Margarita began, her pitch and her chin rising slightly, "That you didn't…" She swallowed a lump in her throat as her tear ducts swelled, "Wait for me."
Oliver sighed heavily, and there was a pause. He didn't look at her. "You have to realize that I was under the impression that you were flawless."
"And now?" Her decibel had reached an unreasonable squeak, and Oliver almost smiled when he heard this.
"I'm here to apologize, my dear." He said with a throat-clearing cough. "For whatever you had to quit over."
"That's not an answer." Maggie said flatly, snatching the menu book back from him.
"That's why you were upset, right? When I arrived, right?" Oliver's voice dipped with his head, trying to meet Maggie's eyes.
"Yes, but, I asked you what you thought of me." She muttered hotly, her lower lip drawing in like a pout.
"Margarita Anastacia Li, were you sober those nearly two years ago when I saw you at the World Cup?" Oliver replied very coolly, taking the menu book back from Maggie, in fear of it being torn apart.
"Yes." Maggie answered reluctantly.
"Well, then it'd be fair to say that I've been in love with you since…well, forever." Oliver thumbed through the menu without a purpose and shrugged. "Does that answer your question?"
"You're a condescending asshole." She snapped, snatching the menu book back the final time. "We're ordering Chinese."
"Whatever you say…ma'am." Oliver drawled with a grin, and she rolled her eyes, smacking him with it while she dialed.
"Yes, I'd like two number 4s with white rice, two number 8s, one jumbo bowl of number 5, and two number 3s. Yes, the address is—"
"All right then, we've got Weasley ad number 276 for the green toga…one more and we're good to go for the season!" Someone shouted across the room, and a very tired Ginny Weasley forced a smile. For the past month, six days out of the week she had been in practice from six in the morning to eleven, and then she'd be in photo shoots from one to seven in the evening. She had one more photo shoot tomorrow for two covers—her last official cover for The Q's and A's this season and the very first for Metropolitan Magic.
In the midst of all of this, the only times she saw Harry anymore were either in practice, or by some fortunate (and awkward) accident in roaming around the house to and from practice.
Now the bodice of a lovely bright green chiffon empire waist-style toga was being taken in to provide more va-va-voom, as the photographer put it, while people stuck things in her hair to make it appear more "goddess-like" and "divine". The dressers kept tying and retying the satin bow that was placed almost entirely on her left side, just below her chest. She had popped out more than once and all she really wanted to do was sleep.
"Your interview with Cho Chang is in five minutes, Miss Weasley." Someone told her as they gave her a sip of water out of a straw.
"What?" Ginny demanded faintly, but her makeup artist shut her up with a heavy application of thin lip-gloss.
The most sparse golden glitter had been placed all over Ginny's face—a little on the apple of her cheeks, a lot on her eyelids in addition to brown liner and thin, curling mascara, and now on her lips. Her skin was glowing, and her eyelids were drooping.
"I'm going to faint if we don't get this over with soon." She muttered as they led her over to the backdrop of a garden, her bare feet getting the silky touch of hothouse flowers that lined the floor.
"Now for the rented jewelry!" The photographer shouted almost hoarsely as they brought in large shopping bags of jewelry cases. They began taking everything out of Ginny's hair, letting spiral curls fall in layers from her chin, to her shoulders, to her back.
"Could we get a little more oomph with the volume so she doesn't look twelve?"
"No way those tits are twelve!"
"Excuse me!" Ginny demanded as someone raised the height on her hair.
"Sorry doll, we're all tired, so we're all losing our tact."
"Get that Cartier diamond and pearl tiara in."
"That's more money than this photographer makes in three years goin' on top of her head, so make sure it gets back to its rightful owner."
"The ring!"
"Are they going to see the ring, Chatchie?"
"Who cares? It's hella trivia!"
"Come on, kids, we've got about an hour left. Let's hurry this on up."
"The ring won't fit her middle finger."
"I wish it did." Ginny muttered. A garland of leaf and flower shaped diamonds had just been draped around her neck, and they shoved the platinum-set, marquise diamond ring onto her left hand, and Ginny couldn't even tell which finger it was on.
"Miss Weasley? Miss Chang is here." Someone told her sweetly as the backlights hit Ginny.
"Let's get these shots of this first." The photographer snapped at her. "That's right, Ginny, goddess…divine…don't play coy, play cool, but inviting…like Tatiana the Fairy Queen…okay, one more…spread smile, Gin, that's right…one more, lids half-open…that's right, good girl…one more…tilt your chin, Gin, with bigger, coy eyes…that's good, that's good…one more…pouty lips for me, Gin…that's good…one more, one more…that's right, with the lids, Gin…oh, she's a natural…one more…and we're done…wait, one more…Nah, we're done. You're beautiful, kid. NEXT!"
Cho Chang was busy talking into her quill when Ginny came over to the folding screen to change.
"When I arrived, the set was in full swing, the finishing touches being put on Ginny Weasley's hair and makeup…she looked like a fairy princess stepping out to play in the Laces and Nets Couture ad, stepping into flowers and glittering from head to toe in a gorgeous bright green sheer toga. She bustled into the dressing room for the last outfit of the day and I reintroduced myself." Cho lowered her quill. "Hello, Ginny."
"Hi." Ginny said, her voice slightly muffled as they pulled the dress over her head.
"Busy week, eh?" Cho asked in her mystical 'reporter' voice.
"Yeah…who's this interview for?" Ginny asked almost crudely, wiping the lip-gloss off of her mouth with the back of her hand.
"Why, of course it's for The Q's and A's, the most popular magazine of the year." Cho exclaimed with such a false voice Ginny rolled her eyes. "We've had our eye on you this year, Ginny."
"I'm aware." Ginny muttered as they began pulling the tiara out of her hair delicately.
"Oh, someone sounds a little bitter. Excited for the big move?" Cho's voice had elevated to a level of false gaiety that even Rita Skeeter would've been ashamed of.
"Huh?"
"Into your St. Andrew's place! Shacking up must be terribly exciting!" Ginny stepped out from behind the screen, even more confused. In a navy blue swimsuit with lacy golden short shorts, she sat down at the makeup mirror so her hair could be done. "I mean, moving in with Harry Potter…how can you two not be dating?"
"By being too busy…I've almost eaten all three of my meals here." Ginny answered shortly as they removed the necklace from around her neck.
"Nice ring." Cho snapped, losing her cool for a second.
Ginny looked down at her left hand. On the ring finger was the "auspiciously" placed diamond ring. She yanked it off. "Yeah…too bad I don't get to keep it."
"Is that the kind of ring you're into?" Cho asked slyly, and Ginny rolled her eyes as her stylist made her hair a little rattier and beach-like.
"Nah…I want bigger, better—bank-breaking." Ginny said sarcastically. The stylist tapped a wand to her bare shoulder and her skin darkened a bit. The glittery gold took new effect with this darker skin tone. She looked youthful and carefree.
"Okay, let's get you going, Miss Weasley." Her stylist said affectionately, as they fixed a dozen charm and bangle bracelets on each of her arms.
"You know what? I think I'm going to faint…why don't we schedule a fire talk tomorrow?" Ginny called out after Cho before she stepped into the warm and fake sand.
"Fabulous, Ginny, you look fabulous."
Ginny motioned for one of the girls to come closer. "Can someone please owl Katie Bell and request that my interview tomorrow be set up with someone a little more professional?"
"One more, Ginny…that's right, fun and frolic…one more, I promise…wink at us, Ginny…one more…that's it…"
"What are your feelings about the League Cup?" Young Bachelor Digest's sole female reporter, Brooklyn Xylon asked flirtatiously. The girl had a lot of spunk and was pretty much a celebutante of all trades. She had been drafted but had gone down with an ankle injury after table dancing.
"Well, I'm confident that it'll be a good series. It's only between us and the Magpies now." Harry answered as he walked with Brooklyn down a staircase in the St. Andrew's estate, after having given her and the photographers a tour.
"Yes, and do you think Puddlemere will win?" She persisted, her fingers lasciviously dancing down the banister.
"Well, I look forward to playing in the States, if that answers your question." Harry said with a smile. Brooklyn giggled.
"Meaning, of course, the playoffs leading to the two teams in the World Cup."
"Of course."
"So, what's it like to be living with one of the most beautiful women in England?" Brooklyn had no qualms about cutting straight to the chase.
"Pardon?" Harry asked, his voice almost squeaking suspiciously.
"Ginny Weasley. The party girl has nearly disappeared from the scene and many men have you to blame for it…" Brooklyn's voice lingered, but Harry was starting to sense that this girl was dangerous.
"Well, if by me you mean Quidditch, because we've been training six days a week for the past months to be prepared for the—" Harry turned and nearly tripped over his ankles.
"That's not what I meant." Brooklyn interrupted flatly. "Ever since you came back to England and moved into this house with the 22-year-old party girl, she hasn't even been seen around her favorite hotspots in London with best friend Kirley Duke…whose engagement should be facing rumors of an affair with the rocking redhead…"
"Where do you come up with this stuff?" Harry demanded as he led her back to the foyer, the interview almost over.
"Come on, it has to be hot and sexy in this house." Brooklyn joked, her flirtatious smile not hitting her eyes. "I mean, look at the decoration…and I'm not only talking about you, Harry."
Harry stared blankly at Brooklyn for a second, her voluminous layers of heavy, dyed blonde hair seeming out of place in the recreation of several Notting Hill and SoHo homes combined into the St. Andrew's setting. "To tell you the truth…I've lived with Ginny for six years, practically."
"Oh, really?" Brooklyn was starting to sound a little…jealous.
"At Hogwarts…we were in the same house, and of course, her brother Ron is my best friend."
Brooklyn the reporter looked a little disappointed. Brooklyn the girl didn't seem so much. The split personality was starting to scare him.
"Yeah…and it was pretty much the same arrangement, except at Hogwarts I didn't see her during the day much because we weren't in the same year, but we pretty much only see each other right before, during and after practice…unless some insomnia miraculously attacks us both at the same time and we go to eat old cheese like pathetic single losers."
Harry thought he had handled that question very well.
"And what do you think of these young 'tail-gaters', who follow whatever successful teams to the playoffs and all the way to the World Cup?" Brooklyn asked, her last question and her voice considerably lower.
"Ah…my friend Margarita used to do that when she was young…I understand it's all usually just one big party, and some are in it for the glory of whoever is winning, and some just want to see good Quidditch. Either way, I really could care less."
Brooklyn leaned in, turning off her quill. "I'll be tail-gating this summer."
"Aren't you a bit young for that?" Harry joked, moving out of her bubble.
"Oh, God, what a day I've had. Harry, you home?" Ginny flounced in the door, wearing a swimsuit top, shorts, and flip-flops, with groceries in her arms. "Oh…hello. And you are?"
"Hi." Brooklyn said with a coy smirk, moving up behind Harry in a way like she owned the place in her obnoxiously bright blouse, her athletic-style office skirt, and her huge high heels. She placed her hands on Harry's shoulders. "I'm Brooklyn Xylon…I've been interviewing Harry for his cover story on Young Bachelor's Digest."
"I'm sure you have been." Ginny replied brightly, her smile making her more like the innocent mistress rather than the lady of the house she really was and that Brooklyn was pretending to be. "Well, I hate to kick you out," No, really, she didn't think she did, "But Mister Potter and I have a garden party we're throwing for the team before we start our last day of training tomorrow and, well, we don't have enough chairs to accommodate you." 'And your slutty ass!' Ginny thought behind her bright smile. "Please feel free to let yourself out of my home."
"Right." Brooklyn couldn't believe how adolescent Ginny made her feel…how helpless. She was a good three years younger than Ginny, but that was hardly a lifetime. What puzzled Brooklyn more was how she, the wealthy and youthful woman dressed to kill, could be beaten by the girl next door who worked her way up from the gutter, dressed like a teenager about to go play in a wading pool. "Let's go then."
After they let themselves out, Ginny's eyebrows raised to her hair. "Well, that was interesting."
"Thanks." Harry said with a grin. "That was kind of scary."
"I've dealt with Brooklyn before, but she was probably too high to remember." Ginny muttered, handing the groceries to Harry as she quickly whizzed her fingers through her hair and made two stick braids. "She's a leech."
"Only one more day of freedom, Gin." Harry whispered, following her into the kitchen.
"I don't know what you're calling freedom…I'm up at four and in bed practically at eight because I can't take it anymore…I just hope we get the World Cup, to make all of this worth it." Ginny started helping him unpack the groceries.
They looked like a young, cute couple playing house.
"Your birthday's coming up." Harry reminded her as they began washing and cutting the vegetables together. They cut little pieces and handed them to each other, tasting them.
"I know." Ginny told him as she washed off the peaches.
"Looking forward to spending it in New York?" Harry asked her with a grin. Ginny nodded, and suddenly, it hit her how domestic the pair had become in their self-inflicted exile.
She put the peaches down and slipped her arm under his, her hand resting over his on a knife, and putting it down. Her other arm slipped along him from the other side, and she hugged him. "Thank you so much."
Harry closed his eyes, her body pressed against his back, not knowing what to say. "You're welcome, then…"
To be continued…