Chapter 8- Oh no she didn't!

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Neville sighed in frustration as he waited for 'her' to come. Just like her to be late, but it would be wasted breath to say anything about it. It's not like she would care about wasting his time, anyways. She didn't care about anyone other than herself, even on the surface level.

Spotting a dark brown bob of hair with highlights of lime green in the mingling crowd, he hurried over. There was no mistaking who it was.

"Hello, Stacy! How are you?" Neville asked politely as he came up behind her. She turned her head towards him as she recognized his voice.

Emerald eyes turned to look him up and down. Taking in the black polo shirt and jeans beneath his robes she gave a sniff.

"Well, Neville, you look," a pause, "nice. I hope you didn't dress up just for me?" she asked, her eyes blinking so rapidly it looked like a flashing stoplight.

Neville sighed. And so it started. He had almost forgotten it was like this with Stacy. Almost. Sometimes he wished his grandmother had never intro- but no that wasn't very gracious of him. He tried again.

"I love your new eye color. When did you get it done?" The last time Neville had seen Stacy she had been sporting ruby irises. It was something that bewildered Neville because Stacy changed the color of her hair and eyes the way some people changed their socks. Talk about a Technicolor dream!

In that respect, Stacy was a true witch, conjuring money out of nowhere to indulge in some new eye colors or hair styles. She always fancied herself to be a bit of a pauper, however, she never spared any expense in changing her irises or some new hair style. It bothered Neville a little, the almost wasteful way that she spent her money. But what was he to say about the way someone else lived their life?

He put these thoughts out if his mind as he led her over to the Hogs Head pub, trying to make some small talk. At least he knew that she'd like the location. Stacy had a fascination with all things British, her being American, which was partly what had attracted her to him. Or rather, his grandmother had been attracted to Stacy. Stacy had met Mrs. Longbottom whilst shopping for some books and they had almost fought over the last copy of an antique Gilderoy Lockhart's Guide to releasing your inner Lockhart. Their mutual appreciation for Lockhart, and a similar outlook on the writers of today, had garnered Stacy an invitation to tea, whereupon Mrs. Longbottom had thrown Stacy's single status at Neville until, exasperated, he excused himself from the room. That hadn't put a damper on Stacy's plans however.

Opening the door for her, he ushered them to a table and pulled out her chair. They sat down, making small talk and ordered drinks from Madame Rosmerta herself. Stacy looked around, taking in all the assorted wizards and witches, along with a few shady characters that had chosen to sit in the back near them. She looked at him innocently enough and smiled. Neville smiled back, if a bit nervously.

"So how have you been? Have you sold any of your stories yet?" Neville asked as their drinks arrived. He took a large gulp of his beer. He needed false strength today.

Stacy's aspiration was to be a writer and she had written many stories and poems. From the stories he had been allowed to read, Neville didn't have the heart to tell her that they weren't very good. But then again, what did he know about sappy romantic stories and angsty poetry? Maybe they were supposed to be written like that. Besides, he was a guy; he was never going to figure out what women wanted. Just look at what had happened between him and Hermione earlier this morning!

"I tried but no one has called me back for any offers," Stacy said, interrupting his thoughts. "No one appreciates my writing style. All people want these days is cleverly written smut and I choose not to write that. Besides, there are too many airhead bimbo characters in the business already and I it's not my fault if I have old fashioned values! People are all turning into smut mongers these days." Stacy took a stab at the cherry in her drink.

Neville serenely drank his beer as she went on her tirade. By now he had learned to ignore her went she proceeded on like this. It was ingrained into his male psyche to just nod and smile whenever she needed a ready answer.

"So why did you ask me to come here, Stacy?"

He tried to look straight into her eyes, trying not to fidget. He had never really been very good at confrontations. Neville held his breath as she started to speak.

"I think you know why I'm here, Neville. I have a favor to ask of you."

Neville gulped. "So, uh, what exactly do you want from me?"

Stacy checked around them to make sure that no one was listening, and then leaned forward, bringing her pale face closer to his. "I want-"

Outside the Hogs Head Pub, Hermione shook out her hair from beneath its wooly captor (read: hat). She had decided to go shopping for some presents to indulge herself after the confrontation this morning with Neville. She walked in, hoping to relax with a steaming mug of butterbeer.

"Is that you, Neville? What are you doing here?!" Hermione exclaimed, spying him and his guest as soon as she walked in the door. It was hard not to notice Neville, even moreso when his guest had lime green streaks in her hair. She smiled to the girl sitting opposite Neville as she made her way over to them. She had been wondering where Neville had gotten to. Having decided to eat something before she shopped, Hermione had been surprised to see him at the Hogs Head with someone after what he had told her, or rather, not told her this morning. She smiled brightly as she got closer and turned to his companion. Stacy stared sullenly at Hermione, angry at the interruption. Neville quickly made the introductions.

"Hermione this is one of my- uh this is Stacy." Stacy looked Hermione up and down, slightly glaring at her. She gave Hermione a look as if she disapproved of her. More like she disapproved of her clothes. Or something along those lines.

Hermione was a bit startled at the icy reception she received from Stacy. She wasn't sure she had ever met this woman before, and yet Stacy looked at her like she had borrowed her favorite shoes and let the dog chew on them. Not only that, but it seemed that Stacy was sending out vibes telling her to leave. Leave NOW!

"Er, hello, how do you do?" Hermione's pride wouldn't let her say 'Nice to meet you' because she was above outright lying. She even managed a wan smile, although Lord knew that what Hermione really wanted to do was glare right back at the odd woman sitting across from her. She sat down at the offered chair.

"So Stacy, how do you know Neville?" Hermione questioned, settling into the comfy chair with a wiggle of her hips. Hips, which Neville gave a sly glance to.

Stacy grimaced as she caught Neville's peek. "Oh, we're just intimate friends. –Really- intimate friends," she said, adding emphasis on the 'friends'. She shot a look at Neville which clearly said 'Cut that out!'

"As a matter of fact, I think right now would be a good time to tell you, seeing as how everyone will know soon enough." Stacy had the most evil grin on her face. Neville however looked ashen. Something was going on and he just knew that things would blow up in face soon.

"Neville and I are engaged." Stacy finished, clasping Neville's suddenly clammy hand in hers.

"Oh," was all Hermione said, before she fainted dead away

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AN: I am sooo EVIL! Don't worry I have the next chapter written up and as soon as I give it to my beta I will absolutely make sure to post it fast! Three cheers for internet cafes!!