A/N: Pauses "Cabaret" to write this Hi everyone. This chapter wasn't exactly easy to write... Harry got in the way of what needed to happen, in the beginning, but I took care of him, and then I wanted Erica to go back to her date, but that wouldn't work right... But you'll see about that later. After the hospital incident, it was all smooth sailing. The next chapter's going to be a killer, though, I warn you. Love and hugs –Sel
People talking think I'm all right, think I'm doing fine
Goin' through the motions of my life
Go to work now every mornin' yeah I play the part
And hide away the contents of my solemn heart
But when the sun goes down and the moon is high
I can't control the flood of all these tears inside
And if they only knew they'd be so surprised
I'm just a good pretender in a great disguise
Keep 'em guessin' keep 'em laughin', build that wall up high
As long as they don't see the other side
You've really done it done a number, a number on my soul
But I'll be damned if I'll ever let you know
But when the sun goes down and the moon is high
There's no way to hide the truth from me, myself, and I
Yeah I wear it well though it ain't my size
I'm just a good pretender in a great disguise
Hermione ran down the hall in St. Mungos at full speed, pausing only as she skid on the wet marble of the floor, not even noticing the conversation occurring between the guard and me.
"Shouldn't you be checking her for identification, or is it standard practice for you to let anyone who pleases scamper down hallways unchecked and free to do as they please?" I questioned suspiciously.
"Do you really want stop her and ask for I.D.?" He replied, chuckling slightly, "Because I sure don't. Besides, I recognize her. She gave me one hell of a hard time this morning, 'cause I wouldn't let her in to see Harry Potter, and that's probably where she's headed, dashing down that hallway."
"Ah. Okay, then Eddie, I'm gonna go try to catch up with her before she gets too far," I said, waving back over my shoulder and jogging down the hallway after her retreating form.
"Hey! Hermione! You mind not running, I'm in the wrong shape for this kind of physical exertion," I called at her back as she turned to face me.
"Erica Michelle Mitchells, how can you be in the wrong shape for anything? If I remember correctly, and I do, you were the only person that Wood cursed about in fourth year. In fifth year, you outran the entire Gryffindor team by three minutes. In sixth year you jogged for fun and beat them by four minutes. And in seventh, you were the only person who was never once late to Care of Magical Creatures or Divination."
"Actually, it was seventh year that I outran them by four minutes. Still do jog for fun, as a matter of fact," I laughed, and embraced her. "It's been a while. Too long, what've you been doing, stranger?"
"Oh, this and that. I'm a jack of all trades, I suppose. I really would love to stay and chat, but Ginny owled me and-"
"That's what I'm here for. Jim Bergon wants an article about how our favorite Superhero is doing these days, and I didn't want to hand it off to someone who'd write a Rita Skeeter-esque article," I replied.
I hadn't seen Harry in over a year, but that didn't change how I felt for him. We had briefly dated in our sixth year, and he was a very good friend, in every sense of the word. While the friendship had been completely platonic ever since then, and we had no interest in making it anything but, I didn't want to see his name over the article entitled 'Harry Potter, Dangerous and Disturbed, and back in St. Mungos!'
"I did write Knocked Out By My Bludger... Now What Do I Do? with Riza Coleman, so she knows that I'm not going to scandalize everything," I continued with my explanation, "and I was at the World Cup last year when What's-His-Name knocked out Angie Johnson, though helping to hit people with bats might not be really handy with what Ginny had in mind... But she thought that I might be able to smooth all the media attention over, because now that he's awake-"
"He's... Harry's awake? Is that why she Owled me?" Hermione interrupted, brightening.
"I would assume so, because if it's not, she owes me some hell of an apology, I was on a date."
"Holy shit." She said, and resumed running down the hallway. I groaned, and followed her.
I walked into Harry's room behind Hermione.
"Slutmuffin." Ginny said somberly, addressing me.
"Bumpkin." I replied, just as gravely, before breaking out into a grin and hugging Ginny, who embraced me back.
"I don't want to know, do I?" Hermione asked suspiciously.
"Nope." Ginny and I replied.
"How is he?" Hermione asked, anxiously, as though she'd just remembered why she was there.
"He's doing better. He can be awoken, of that we're sure, we just aren't sure how."
"What do you mean, you don't know how?" Hermione started pacing around the room.
"Well, that's why we brought Erica." Ginny walked over to Harry and changed a bandage on his head carefully.
"That's why you what?" I looked at her like she'd grown a third head.
"You heard me, Slutmuffin." She replied, smirking slightly, but never pausing in her work.
"And how do you presume I will be able to help you wake him up?" I stared at her incredulously. She had finally lost what was left of her fragile sanity. "I know I have such extensive medical training and everything, but really, Gin. Are you out of your fucking mind?"
"Shut up and stop being so American." She turned to face me, looking paler than usual, "You've worked with the world's leading expert in trauma, and you were there when Justice Pilliwickle awoke from his four year coma. If anyone in the room knows anything about comas, it's you."
"Then I guess we're fucked."
"Well, I'm wiped," Ginny said, wrapping a fresh bandage carefully around Harry's rapidly bleeding cheek.
"But we did a world of good; he even opened his eyes..." I trailed off, seeing the look that Ginny threw me. She really was peculiar around the subject of Harry.
"That really was some nice work, Ginny," Hermione remarked, as she washed her hands in the tiny sink, "I don't think I've seen such nice healing since my days at Hogwarts."
"Since when? The time you grew a tail or the time you turned yourself purple?" I asked, hiding a smile rather unsuccessfully.
"The time you turned yourself into Eric," she replied, drying her hands off, and smirking in a very un-Hermione fashion.
"Erica 0, Hermione 1," Ginny said, failing dreadfully at her attempt to turn a laugh into a hacking cough. I just glared at Ginny as if she was telling me that she's had a love child with Severus Snape.
"Well, guys," said Hermione, breaking the moment by walking across the room, "it's been fun, but I should go and explain why I just flew out of dinner with the Weasley's before they send the MLED after me," She crossed the room and nudged me in the ribs, "See you later, Slutmuffin."
"Absolutely. How could you ever stand to be away from my voluptuous and timeless beauty?" I replied, grinning in what I thought was a cheeky manner, but was probably just stupid.
She kissed Hermione on the cheek, and hugged Ginny, as she muttered, just loud enough for me to hear,
"And for your information, it's Hermione 2, Erica 0..." Ginny chuckled, putting a hand on Hermione's shoulder, and steering her out of the room. Hermione waved a last time, before walking down the hall, and vanishing.
I stared at Ginny as she walked around the room, straightening up and sanitizing equipment.
"Hey, Gin?" I asked, twisting my ring idly, "Do you want to come out to lunch with me, there are some unresolved issues that we really have to talk about. My treat."
"Sure, Ers', where do you want to go?" she asked, walking over to me.
"I know this really great place in Diagon Alley, Jesse's Bar and Grill, you ever heard of it?" she linked arms with me, and I opened the door.
"I'll try anything once," She replied, as we walked down the hall and aparated to Diagon Alley, "twice if I like it..."
"So, this is the famous Jesse's... I must say, I've never seen a décor so... original." Ginny remarked, looking around. The walls were plastered with muggle street signs from my old neighborhood; "Ocean Parkway, West 8th, Beaumont Street, New Jersey Turnpike, Brighton Beach..."
"Yeah, Jesse's from the States. He just couldn't bear to let go of New York when he came here, so he brought a piece back with him and made it the design for his restaurant. From what he's told me... Oh, there he is! Jess! Come over here, we've got a question for you."
I flagged down a broad shouldered man standing at the bar talking to a waitress, who walked over to our table. His sandy hair was long, creeping over the collar of his shirt, as it had been as long as I could remember.
"What'd'you want from my life, Erry? Unlike you, I have a business to run." He said, seriously, though his eyes showed the jest. He spoke with an accent quite like my own, but with a more New York flavor, since he had lived there longer than I.
"Jess, Ginny here had a question about your signs and how you got them." He gazed down at her with chocolate eyes, as if appraisingly her. It was a running joke between us, he'd had a penchant for stealing street signs as a youngster, and it apparently hadn't ever died down.
"Well, I can't leave a pretty lady wonderin', now can I?" I coughed, and stared daggers at him for being so forward, and he replied with a phrase that would make even Ron blush.
"These are all from the tri-state area, but you wouldn't know nothing 'bout that, would ya? The tri-state area is the area around New York; heard of that?" at Ginny's assent, he continued. "Well, Erica here and I used to live in New York, on the same block, ac'tually. Erica moved out here when she was... Oh, 13?" I nodded at him.
"And I moved out here a few years later. When I moved out here, I just couldn't live without a li'l piece of the Big Apple, so when I went back for my sister's wedding, I went and, er... Stumbled upon a few signs." He glanced quickly at me, and I chuckled a bit.
"It's not exactly... Legal to 'stumble upon' these signs." I replied to Ginny's questioning gaze, she nodded back at me, and resumed looking at Jesse, who took that as a sign to continue justifying his signs.
"And so when I started this restaurant, I d'cided to put my signs to good use," He stretched his arms out and gestured at the room, "and here we are." Ginny grinned at Jesse and placed her bag on the table beside her.
"Well that's rightly cool. I really like it; it's like being in... A museum" I laughed at that one, as did Jesse.
"You can tell she's not from the states. A museum!" he said, continuing to chuckle as he walked back towards the bar. We flipped through the menus, and chose appetizers and meals for each of us, and as the waiter bustled off to get our cocktails, I turned back to Ginny.
"Gin... I know we haven't been really... I don't know, open? About our relationships in the past few months, but there's some unfinished business that I think we need to deal with and let go of," I bit my lip slightly as she mulled my statement over.
"You're right," she finally replied, pulling at a strand of auburn hair. "There are some things we need to talk about; that we need to finish." The waiter came back with our drinks, and set them on the table. "Oh, and waiter?" Ginny said, as the waiter turned to leave, "You'd better bring us another round; I have the feeling that we'll be needing it."
"Gin, I won't beat around the bush," I said, sipping my margarita, "you and I both know that you have feelings for Harry-"
"What are you talking about!" she shrieked, attracting the attention of other diners, who stared at her. "I do not have feelings for Harry! How can you think that, I don't have ANY feelings towards him!" I gazed at her, looking at her eyes. She looked anywhere but at me. I knew that she was lying; hell, half the restaurant knew she was lying, but it wouldn't do a bit of good if she wouldn't admit that she had feelings for him.
"Ginny," I said gently, "I know that you don't think you have feelings for him, and maybe you don't," I raised a hand to quell her coming argument, "but that is not the issue I really want to talk about."
"Then what is it, Erica? Cut the crap and let's get down to it."
"Fine. I want to know what happened on Halloween. Since you allegedly, 'don't have feelings for him,' something must have happened that night, because, the last time we'd talked, you were madly in love."
"There is nothing to discuss," She folded her hands and picked at her salad absently.
"Like hell there isn't."
"You really want to know?" Ginny said, sharply. "Fine. It was October 31st and Harry and I were in the common room..."
"Really, Gin, you shouldn't go to Hogsmead tonight." Harry said, looking at me, concern lining his eyes
"Why? You're going so it's safe enough for you, why isn't it safe enough for me?" I replied tersely.
"Because you don't feel that well, and-"
I cut in, not letting him finish his thought. "Harry, I'm fine. It's just a little headache. I'll be fine after a butterbeer. Now unless there's a better reason for us not to go..." I said, letting my words punctuate the air that was thick with unspoken tension.
"It's not that, Ginny. I don't want to go to Hogsmead with..." He ran a hand through his raven locks, "Oh, hell, never mind. Are you ready?"
"So we went to Hogsmead with Ron and Hermione, and after we met them for a drink, we went for a walk... to talk."
"Ginny," Harry said, grabbing my elbow, "I think we should talk." I looked at him, he looked.... Pained. Like saying this hurt him.
"Harry, what's wrong? What's going on? Is something wrong? Of course it is, but what? What do you know that I don't?"
"Ginny, I think you should go back to the castle." He said, kicking a rock down the gravel path as we walked.
"Why? It's the first Hogsmead weekend; the first weekend we've been alone together in months. Why do you want me to go back to the castle? I want to spend time with you, not with everyone at that stupid Halloween ball, so that's completely out of the question, Harry."
"I... you shouldn't be here, Ginny. Go back to the castle."
"And what is that supposed to mean? That you don't want me here? Is that what you mean? If that's what you mean, that's just fine." I said, my voice surprising even me with its' anger as I turned on my heel and started walking backwards down the path.
"Ginny, that's not what I meant!" he said, chasing after me. "I didn't mean it like that!"
"You get your hands off of me, Harry James Potter. That is what you meant, or you wouldn't have said it. But I'm going back to the castle, just like you wanted. I hope you're happy." I shook his hand off of my shoulder and walked back up the road to return to the castle.
"And then the Death Eaters came."
"Well, well, what do we have here? Mr. Potter and... who is this? A Weasley love interest! How charming! I'm sure the Dark Lord will love a nice matched set. Two is better then one, isn't it?" The Death Eater in front of me said, the sneer in her voice distinguishable even with her mask on. I felt my stomach clench in fear; I couldn't even move.
"Run, as soon as she diverts her attention away, Ginny. I can handle this myself. Go back to the castle and tell everyone what's happening. I'll be fine, just get out."
"I don't want your help, Harry," I said, icily, "I'm not afraid to go."
"I see you choose your romantic prospects on how brave they are in the face of true adversity, Potter," Bellatrix said, tapping a finger on her chin, "Oh, how that reminds me of someone... I can't place who, though."
"Let her go, Bellatrix, it's me you want. If you let her walk away, right now there won't be a problem with taking me. I've wanted another chat with Voldemort recently anyway," Harry said sardonically, stepping forward.
"Oh, the courage you have, speaking the Dark Lord's name; or is that stupidity? Either way, it's simply precious! Widdle Potty-Wotty trying to save his girlfriend," She mocked, stepping towards us both, "It's a pity that it won't help you, though it is a sweet notion; as I remember, your father did something quite similar to save your mother. Like father, like son, hm, Potter?" Harry clenched his fists.
"Don't you talk about my father."
"Oh? Or what? You're going to kill me? I thought we established that last time, Potter. You have to mean what you say, or it will accomplish nothing. Oh, I have an idea. How about we give you a reason to mean it? Let's give little Ginevra a taste of true pain. You don't mind, do you, Ginevra?" She laughed cruelly, and pointed her wand at me.
Everything went midnight black. There was no now, there was no later, time stopped for that minute. Everything was burning pain and unobstructed darkness. I thought I could die from the pain, I wished I would, just so I could get it over with and let go of the pain.
"And then Ron and Hermione showed up, and you know the rest..." Ginny finished, looking at my shocked face.
"Jesus, Gin, I had no idea. So what happened after that? Between you and Harry, I mean."
"Harry and I never spoke again," She replied, finishing her filet calmly.
"Uh huh. And you have no... openness to the idea of going back with him once he's out of the hospital?" I asked, tapping my nails against the table as I nodded to the waiter that I was finished.
"I have no feelings towards him, Erica. There is no idea of going back with him, now or ever." She twisted her pendant, unknowing that I remembered it as being one of her nervous habits. She twisted her pendant when she lied.
"Right, Ginny. That's why you gaze off into nothingness whenever one of us mentions him in passing, and why you look like you're going to die whenever you see a picture of him. No feelings whatsoever."
"That's right," She replied steadfastly, looking me in the eye.
"Ginny, I don't care how well you think you lie, but your disguise doesn't work with people who've known you for seven years, and who've known your nervous habits for as long. Stop twisting your necklace," She flushed crimson. I rose from the table, leaving a tip under my glass.
"Let's get out of here, I've got work tomorrow, bright and early, and I want to go drown that last margarita so I can drag myself out of bed in the morning," I said, digging around in my bag for my wand.
"Yeah, so do I, and I don't think Terry would be appreciative if I came in to work with a hangover. I'll see you next week?" she asked, pulling her wand out of her coat.
"Of course," after an exchange of farewells, we both aparated home.
Arriving at my flat, I opened the door and went into my bedroom, where an owl awaited me. It hooted anxiously, and flew at me, leg outstretched, with a red envelope attached to it.