Disclaimer: I do not own anything recognizable. Harry Potter and all related characters, settings, ideas are property of J.K. Rowling.

Illusions

By WhK

-------

The truth was, Ginny had not been thinking about The Ball as much as she should have. It had been on her list of Things To Do, which meant she would never get around to actually completing the task.

It was simply something that would nag her mind relentlessly once she started pondering the pros and cons. So really, it was a mistake in the first place to ever catch a glimpse of Draco Malfoy in the halls.

She set her books down with a thump upon the library table, coughing as a cloud of dust rose from the old pages.

The dust cleared to reveal Hermione Granger.

"Hermione!" Ginny cried. "Just the person I was looking for." Hermione gave her a suspicious glance from her seat, peering over her own stack of books.

"Hmm. Doesn't that usually entail a favor of some sort?" she asked wryly. Ginny shook her head.

"No, no, unless sound advice is too big of a favor." Hermione smiled.

"What's on your mind, Ginny?"

"Well…it's a rather…strange question." Ginny settled in and folded her hands in front of her.

"Try me."

Her tongue running over the front of her teeth, she squinted her eyes and stared at the brown haired girl with concentration, giving the impression that she was under deep thought.

"What if, this guy, who you so totally hate, started acting all nice and then, asked you to this…social event? With him? I mean, what would you say to that, Hermione, assuming, of course, that this question is strictly hypothetical?" Ginny blinked as innocently as she could manage.

Hermione looked a bit overwhelmed and Ginny looked on sheepishly.

"…That wasn't a hypothetical question, was it?" she asked sagely. Ginny hung her head.

"Perhaps not," she mumbled.

"Who invited you to this 'social event'?"

Ginny took her head in her hands and glanced up at Hermione.

"Who do you think?" Ginny muttered.

"Well, it's got to be someone that's you're not exactly on good terms with."

"Yea, Herm, and just who would that me?" Ginny motioned with her hands.

"But—no!" Hermione said quickly, as a look of comprehension reached her face. "He would never—would he? Why?"

"He did."

"But why?" she repeated.

Ginny, instead of completely sharing Hermione's bewilderment, shrugged, slightly annoyed.

"Don't know. Why, is the concept of me getting asked on a date baffling?"

"No! You know that's not what I meant." Hermione paused. "So, it's a date?"

Ginny sighed dramatically.

"It's a ball."

Hermione gaped, as if words should sprout from her open mouth but came out muted.

"But why has Draco Malfoy invited you to a ball, of all things?"

"Maybe he likes me," Ginny joked. Hermione didn't laugh.

"Er--because he needs a date?" Ginny tried again.

"And you're the only girl left on the planet?" Hermione asked skeptically.

"He said Pansy's…unavailable."

"Right. Somehow I doubt you were originally next on that list."

Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Well, thanks for your enthusiasm, Hermione."

"You mean you want to go?"

"Er—", Ginny thought. Did she want to go? "No!" She bit her lip and looked pitifully at Hermione.

"Sort of. I've never been to a ball before. A real ball, I mean." Hermione gave a soft smile.

"Yea. Every girl's dream, isn't it?"

"Pretty much." Ginny frowned. "Not that I'll actually go. That would be awkward."

"Why not?" Ginny stared at the girl in front of her.

"Would you make up your mind already? First you look like you're accusing me of a crime for even remotely wanting to go, and now you're asking me why I won't?"

"Just asking, Gin."

"Because it's Draco Malfoy who has offered to take me!" Ginny cried. "Draco bleeding Malfoy!"

Hermione looked furtively around at Ginny's loud shout, and Ginny blushed furiously—Draco 'bleeding' Malfoy himself was sitting only tables away, giving her a curious stare.

"Be a little more discreet, will you?" Hermione whispered. Ginny nodded shamefully.

"Anyway, I know where you're coming from…and you're right, " Hermione said with a determined nod. "It could be dangerous. You don't know what he's up to, what he's plotting. And besides, your brother would have a seizure, with that violent temper he's got. You shouldn't." Hermione gave her a stern look. "I won't report this peculiar behavior of his right now, since you seem to have it under control. But any sign of weird things happening and you come and tell me so I can take care of it. Okay?"

Ginny let out a long sigh. She was right of course, but she could help but be disappointed at her answer, if only a little. By her initial reaction, she had half expected Hermione to tell her it was okay to go.

Hermione was much too practical.

"You are," Ginny said with slumped shoulders, "the voice of reason."

Hermione looked at her tentatively.

"Don't you worry, I wasn't seriously considering to go anyway. I just wanted to know what you thought about this business of him asking me in the first place," Ginny assured her.

And with a resigned sigh, Ginny dropped the subject, planning to promptly confront him after lunch.

--

An hour later, Ginny clenched her fist again as the desk behind her bumped up against her chair. She had had enough. Turning around, she scowled at the group of Slytherin girls chatting away excitedly.

"Will you please stop leaning against the table?" she said with strained politeness.

Amid the chatter, Pansy Parkinson stood up. And laughed.

"I don't think I want to," she murmured, before giving the table a deliberate jerk towards Ginny's chair. Ginny flushed. Don't lose your temper, Ginny…she's not worth it.

"Well, then. Are you sure you don't want to go elsewhere for your silly little discussion? It's rather bothersome, and I don't really care to be bothered."

Pansy's lips crept up. Ginny wondered if every Slytherin had honed the art of smirking, as it seemed.

"But you'll understand if we bother you today, because, after all, you are vermin, and besides—this is rather important, the discussion of Malfoy's Ball. You know how it is." Pansy stopped. "On second thought, you don't." Her fiends chuckled from beside her.

And Ginny shouldn't have retorted next, telling herself that she was the better girl for keeping her mouth shut. But anger made her act on her instincts, more so than usual.

"Oh, you're talking about that ball, are you?" she said smoothly, her eyes suddenly shining. "Think you'll be going?"

Pansy shrieked with laughter.

"Going?" she guffawed. "I'm Draco Malfoy's date, you silly girl."

Ginny's smile widened into a large grin.

"But that's where we don't quite see eye to eye. You see, you're not his date this year."

Pansy's eyes grew still, though she still struggled to keep an indifferent sneer on her face.

"Really," she murmured. "And I'm sure you would know all about these things. Pray tell, Miss Weasley, who is to attend the ball with the coveted Mr. Malfoy?"

Two thoughts occurred to Ginny then:

Draco Malfoy was definitely not coveted.

And—

I'm going to be his date.

But before she had much time to actually process these thoughts, she spoke them out loud.

"I am."

Ginny's eyes burned with the knowledge of what she was doing, the way they always did when she was taking a risk or doing something she shouldn't. She most definitely should not have been doing, or saying, this, but the look on Pansy Parkinson's face made her spiteful and vengeful. If this would get her to wipe that ridiculous sneer off of her face, if only for a moment, so be it.

Which it did.

"You?" she barked at first, but still, there was no amused expression on her face. Instead, a small dose of fear. "Ha! You certainly have a creative imagination, little one."

Ginny pursed her lips disapprovingly.

"Come now, Pansy—you're engaged. You two may have had an understanding before your little betrothal, but you're useless now. Do you think Draco would take you to his coming-of-age ball?"

Pansy's face turned an unattractive shade.

"Bitch," she spat as nastily as she could, her eyes blazing. "You never did know what the hell you were talking about."

Then she turned on her heels and left with her group of friends. Ginny was given her peace, but then again, not quite.

Because now, she was left alone to ponder the weight of what she had just done.