Don't own anything...except Sandra, but she's not all that important. So ya, I would like to own Harry Potter and be richer than the good old Queen of England, but I don't. sniffle. Anyways, on with the story!
Of Conspiring Cupids Called Butch
After standing in one place, staring at the little man hovering in front of me for a while, I decided that I should at least figure out if maybe, by some chance, he was real. I mean, come on, I didn't exactly want to go to St. Mungo's Psyche. That would mean living with Gilderoy Lockhart, and I did not want to deal with his obsession with signing autographs. And, come to think of it, nor did I want to be blinded by his teeth. Especially after first year. I mean, hello, he almost obliviated Harry and Ron while they were trying to save me! He's not exactly on my good side, and I'm not sure if I could restrain myself from Bat-Bogeying him from here until next Tuesday.
Right, so, I figured that in order to find out if he was real or not, I needed to find another person and ask them if they could see him. I looked at the mini-Bartleby on the corner of my desk. She was, amazingly, sleeping. I decided that I didn't really want to deal with her, especially if the little man did turn out to be a figment of my imagination. I would be fired for sure. Mrs. Bartleby didn't like crazy people on her staff. Not that I blamed her.
So, I peeked over the wall of my cubicle to my neighbor, Sandra Cummings', little office. She was leaning back in her chair, eyes closed, snoring loudly. Her mini-Bartleby was doing the same, minus the chair.
"Pssst!" I said, glancing around to make sure no one was watching me. Sandra didn't move. She just snored louder.
"Psssssst!" I tried again. It didn't work.
Okay, maybe I shouldn't have expected it to work. Sandra could sleep through just about anything. It was amazing. Like this one time, some witch was working on a story about the best clothes cleaning spell, and she ended up setting fire to her robes. She was running around screaming, forgetting that all she had to do was shoot some water at herself out of her wand. Anyways, we were all chasing her, shooting our own water spouts at her, when someone missed and hit a sleeping Sandra. She didn't wake up. She just snorted, and turned over. But the second Mrs. Bartleby entered the scene, Sandra was wide awake, pretending to have been awake the whole time. It was uncanny. It was like she had a Bartleby radar that went off when Mrs. Bartleby was coming.
So, I moved to plan B. I turned around, grabbed my dictionary, opened it, and then slammed it shut right beside her ear. She didn't move.
"Ugh!" I said, frustrated. I frowned, trying to think of a way to wake Sandra without causing her bodily harm. That's when I got an excellent idea.
I smiled evilly, and turned back to Sandra. Time for Plan C. I then cleared my throat, opened my mouth and did my Bartleby-on-the-rampage impression. In case you are wondering, I have an unnaturally good ability to impersonate people. My Bartleby-on-the-rampage impression is second only to my Umbridge one.
"Miss Cummings! May I ask why you are sleeping while you are supposed to be writing an article on the top ten most romantic places to be this Valentine's Day!" I screeched.
Sandra's eyes snapped open and she immediately launched into an explanation. "Well, you see, Mrs. Bartleby, I was only imagining myself in this restaurant that is supposed to be really romantic, and…" she trailed off when she saw me. "Giinnny! What'd you do that for?" she whined, rubbing her eyes.
"I have a problem, and I need your help." I told her matter-of-factly. Then I turned around and grabbed Cupid's leg, dragging him up so that Sandra could see him.
"Hey!" he said indignantly. He opened his mouth to continue, but I clamped my hand over it. He growled.
I turned to Sandra, who was looking at me like I was absolutely crazy. "Can you see the ugly little flying dwarf beside me?" I asked her. Sandra's eyes widened, and she shook her head.
That's when Cupid bit me. "Ow!" I yelled, snatching my hand away and shaking it. It was bleeding. "What'd you do that for, Cupid?"
Cupid glowered at me. "Listen lady," he said, "We need to go over some ground rules here. Firstly, do not, ever, under any circumstances, touch me. Secondly, do not, ever, under any circumstances, call me Cupid. You may, however, call me Butch. Thirdly, I do not want to be here, I am forced to be here, and the sooner you admit your feelings to your one true love, the sooner I get out of your hair. And fourthly, (A/N: is that even a word?) she can't see me. Only you can see me."
I spluttered at him, "What do you mean only I can see you?"
He just looked at me, "Because only you can see me," he said as if he were trying to explain something to a rather stupid small child.
"Why?"
"Cuz, my dear mother assigned me to you, so only you can see me. If anyone else could see me, they would probably attack me with requests to shoot their crushes in the butt with one of my arrows so that they would fall in love and live happily ever after." He didn't sound like he too much believed in happily ever after. "You, however, are special as my mother puts it, because you have found your one true love, and she has decided that it is meant to be."
I just looked at him suspiciously. "You're just a figment of my imagination," I said.
He rolled his eyes and was about to retort when Sandra spoke up. "Ummm, Ginny? Are you feeling alright?" she asked.
I turned to her. "Yes, that's the problem. I am feeling absolutely fine, and yet, I am still seeing this little flying man. AND, he is talking to me. I'm thinking this is not normal. I'm thinking that I am going crazy," by now I was starting to hyperventilate. The truth of the whole situation was closing in on me. "I'm crazy, Sandra," I said, "Nutters, bonkers, around the bend, mad, afflicted in the head. I don't want to be crazy. I liked it when I wasn't crazy. I don't want to go to St. Mungo's! Oh my gosh, I'm going to have to leave the Burrow! I'm never going to see any of my friends again. They're never going to come visit me in the hospital and I'll be all alone, with no one to talk to but Cupid, here! And Lockhart will make me help him sign autographs, and, ohmygosh! They don't have any Ben and Jerry's ice cream! (A/N: Let's just pretend they have Ben and Jerry's alright?) And I'm going to walk around mooning everyone because they are going to make me wear one of those hospital gowns with no backs…"
That's when Sandra said, "Silencio!" and I could no longer speak. She looked at me, "Ginny, you are not going to St. Mungo's because you are not crazy," she said.
I mouthed the words, "I'm not?" at her, feeling slightly relieved. Maybe I wasn't crazy. No, I had to be, I was seeing little men dressed in boxers with hearts on them claiming to be Cupid! That was definitely NOT NORMAL!
Apparently Sandra sensed that I still didn't believe her, so she said, "Look Ginny, I've heard of this before. I read somewhere that sometimes a Cupid is assigned to someone who has found their soul mate, but can't admit their feelings to them. They are supposed to bring them together because it is meant to be."
I motioned to her to undo her silencing charm. She waved her wand at me and said, "Finite."
I took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. "Where, exactly, did you read this?" I asked her, hoping to Merlin that she wasn't about to say…
"The Quibbler," she mumbled, looking down.
Bloody hell, she said it.
"The Quibbler?" I said incredulously, "You read it in The QUIBBLER? Oh Merlin, I'm doomed!" I cried. I was slightly hysterical now.
"Ginny, I know you don't believe any of that stuff they write about, but think about it. They could be right. It's your only hope!" she said.
"Oh, way to make me feel better!" I said sarcastically. That's when Butch decided to enter the conversation.
"Hey lady!" he said. I turned to him. "You're not crazy. Well, you might be, I don't know. But that one," he gestured at Sandra, "is right. I'm a Cupid, and no one but you can see me. So, stop freaking out because it is only adding to the headache that you have already given me!"
I looked at him suspiciously, and suddenly, a light bulb went off in my head. "FRED AND GEORGE WEASLEY, YOU COME OUT HERE RIGHT NOW! THAT WAS NOT A FUNNY JOKE!" I bellowed. Butch clamped his hands over his ears, and Sandra clamped a hand over my mouth.
"Merlin Ginny, you're gonna get us killed by Bartleby!" she hissed into my ear. I shoved her hand off and stalked over to the fireplaces at the other end of the offices. I threw in some Floo powder, shoved my head in and yelled, "WEASLEY'S WIZARD WHEEZES!"
Their shop appeared, and Fred and George were standing behind the counter, tinkering with something that looked slightly dangerous. "Fred and George Weasley, you two are in HUGE trouble. You come here and take away this stupid dwarf right now or I'm gonna Bat-Bogey you until there is no tomorrow!" I screamed. Both of them noticeably jumped.
"Merlin, Ginny, you sound exactly like Mum sometimes," said Fred or George.
"No kidding, Ginners, sometimes I think you might be turning into her," said the other one.
"I DO NOT CARE IF I AM LIKE MUM OR NOT!" I screamed, "I CARE ABOUT THIS STUPID DWARF THAT IS FOLLOWING ME AROUND!"
They looked confused. "Dwarf? What dwarf?" they said in unison.
And that made me realize something. They were in their store, and the dwarf was in my office. They NEVER played a joke and didn't wait around and watch the results. "Oh…my…gosh," I said. "Bloody stupid hell." And then I pulled my head out of the fireplace. Sandra and Butch were watching me. Sandra looking worried and Butch looking annoyed. I looked at him, "You're real." I said.
He just looked at me, saying nothing. Sandra, however, was practically shaking with excitement. "Oh my gosh, Ginny! You have a soul mate! Ooooo, this is wonderful!" Then she gasped, "Omygosh! Who is it? Who are you in love with?" She gasped again as realization hit her, "It's Harry isn't it?"
I jumped and stared at her, my mouth hanging open, "N-n-no!"
"Oh, you are such a bad liar, Ginny," she said, "It is. I always thought you never got over him. This is great! Now you can tell him how you feel! Where is he? He's an Auror, right? So, he'll probably be at the Ministry. Come on!" she said, grabbing my hand and leading me towards the fireplaces again.
I snatched my hand away and yelled, "NO! Sandra, I can't tell him! No, no, no. That is a baaaad idea. Besides, I'm not in love with anyone"
"What are you talking about? You have a Cupid, Ginny. That means he's your soul mate. Aphrodite doesn't just send random Cupids like everyone thinks, you know. She only does it if it is meant to be."
"Well, apparently she made a mistake because I'm not in love with anyone." I said, walking back towards my cubicle.
Butch stopped me, flying in front of me and blocking my way into my cubicle, "Oh well then I suppose that the butter dish just attacked you this morning on its own free will?" he asked.
I froze, "How did you know about that?" I asked, turning red.
He looked at me like I was stupid. "I'm a Cupid. I know about everything concerning you and Mr. Potter. It's my freaking job." And then he added, "I even know you're dreams. I particularly like the one you had the other night where you accidentally on purpose walked in on him in the shower and then got stuck in the bathroom with him. You have a very creative imagination Mrs. Weasely."
I turned bright red. "That was only a dream. It didn't mean anything. I was just a little stressed or something." Butch just looked at me.
That's when Sandra spoke up again, "Right, well, apparently your Cupid is handling this, so I'm gonna get back to work," she started to walk off, but then turned again, "Oh, and Cupid? If you feel like shooting any of those arrows at people, you could always aim one at Bobby McFarlane over there for me," she pointed to a man sitting in a cubicle on the far side of the room, "And if you need any help with Ginny there, I'm more than willing to kidnap her and lock her in a closet with Harry until she admits her feelings. I've always wanted to do that." With that, she turned on her heel and strode into her cubicle.
I glared after her and then pushed past Butch and into my own cubicle. He followed, sitting on the file cabinet that he had popped out of. "Right," he said, "So where is he so I can shoot him and be done with it?" he asked.
I whipped around to face him, "You are not going to shoot, Harry," I said, "If he is going to love me back, he is going to do it on his own."
"Ah hah! So you admit that you love him! Strike up the band," he said. I clamped my hand over my mouth.
"NO!" I said, "I meant…I meant…hypothetically if I loved Harry, which I don't…then…he…you…" I trailed off. I had crashed and burned, and I knew it.
Butch glared at me, "Stop with the denial thing. I told you, the sooner you admit it, the sooner I'm gone. And trust me, I would much rather be somewhere else right now. Like Mexico. Or Hawaii. Do you know how cold it gets in these stupid boxers?"
I was about to retort when Sandra popped her head over the cubicle wall, "Bartleby's coming, so stop talking to dwarf-boy," she said, and then she disappeared back behind the wall.
I immediately grabbed my quill and began pretend editing. Mrs. Bartleby appeared a few seconds later.
"Ginevra, I have decided to give you an assignment," she screeched.
I gaped at her, "An assignment? Like an article?" I asked excitedly. My first assignment!
She narrowed her eyes at me, "Don't go thinking that I think you deserve this. Because I do not."
"What do you mean?" I asked, confused. Why else would she give me an assignment?
She sighed, "The only reason you get this assignment is because you know Harry Potter," she said.
I choked, "Ha-Harry
Potter?"
"Yes. He has declined all the offers of interviews from other magazines, claiming he does not want the publicity. However, since you know him, you can make him give us an interview as a favor to you, as he's your friend."
"What? No, I can't do that!" I said, horrified. I wanted to stay as far away from Harry as possible while Butch was around.
She glared at me, "You have to, or you will be fired for disobedience," she declared.
I gaped at her, "That's blackmail!" I said furiously.
She just raised her pencil-thin eyebrows at me in challenge.
I sighed resignedly, "Fine," I said, "What kind of interview?"
"It's for the Valentine's Day special edition," I didn't like the sound of that, "Here's your list of questions." She handed me a couple sheets of paper, and walked away briskly, leaving me in complete and utter shock.
Valentine's Day special edition? Oh, no…this was bad. Very, very bad. This meant an interview about wishy-washy, lovey-dovey, flirty things like examples of the perfect date and favorite snog spots. Sandra and Butch were going to have a field day with this. Wait a second, Butch! He had done this! He was conspiring against me!
I slowly looked up to see Butch smirking at me. Sandra was back to peeping over the wall and had a huge grin plastered on her face. "Way to go, Cupid!" she said, "Nice move!" And then she vanished behind the wall again.
I looked back down to see Butch wearing a smug look on his face, arms folded across his chest. "You can't beat me," he said.
I was starting to believe him. Maybe I would have been better off in St. Mungo's after all.
