Cho examined the thin material, frowning in disapproval.
"Marietta, I don't think-"
"Nonsense, orange fits you perfectly! It's not as if you have red hair," Marietta said, crossing her arms stubbornly and cocking her head to the side slightly.
"When I said that I wanted to find an outfit for the party, this wasn't exactly what I had in mind," Cho started, cringing inwardly at the revolting neon orange dress she had draped over her arms; much like her judgment in men, her friend had an… interesting taste in clothing. Cho often wondered how she had managed to find such a normal, caring man like John… "I really do think that black dress I chose will be better."
"No, just trust me on this. You're going to a party, not a funeral. Try on that dress. Go on. Go!"
She sighed; it was one of those many times where she would just have to go with Marietta and do as she was told. Turning around and trudging halfheartedly into the dressing room, she entered the closest booth and closed the door, emerging minutes later with her nose wrinkled in dislike.
"It's too low-cut," she complained, trying in vain to cover the skin exposed by the revealing neckline of the dress.
"No, it just makes you look more alluring and mysterious. Now turn around so that I can see how it looks from every angle," she said, looking pleased with herself.
Cho gave a quick whirl to appease her friend before saying quickly, "All right, it's not my color, shape, or style. I should probably try on that black dress."
"Wait! I haven't even told you how fabulous the dress looks on you!" Marietta said hurriedly as a blur of orange rushed back into the dressing room. An audible sigh of relief escaped the thin walls of the small room and the faint rustling of a dress being taken off was heard. Feeling as though she had been insulted, Marietta sat back down again on the sofa and took to turning the pages of a magazine lying nearby viciously until she had almost torn it apart completely. She looked up as the door opened again and Cho stepped out, wearing the black dress she herself had chosen, with delicate silver flowers intricately designed onto the thin top layer of the dress, and backed by a thicker material.
"So? What do you think of this dress?"
She put down the tattered magazine and placed her hands in her lap, examining the way the outfit curved according to the contours of her friend's body and fit it perfectly without looking as though she would barely be able to walk or the exact opposite, where it would look too loose.
Sniffing scornfully, she picked up the magazine saying, "It's all right, I guess," but secretly admiring how well her friend had chosen a dress that completely suited her personality and physique.
"And it's three times cheaper than the other dress you chose."
"Don't rub it in," she muttered, trying to turn the dilapidated sheets of the periodical she had just half destroyed.
Smirking, Cho walked back into the room to change into her regular clothes and replace the dress on its hanger; she had caught the look of approval her friend had worn before it dissolved into disgruntlement as she returned to the no longer glossy magazine. Having accomplished this, she draped it over her arm and walked out of the room the sight of Marietta standing up, looking more than ready to leave. Cho motioned for her to follow as she walked towards the checkout counter and shook her head as she heard her begin muttering to herself about how at least John liked her sense of style.
"Marietta, give it a rest. That dress was just too… wild for me. Besides, I really, really like this one." She said, laying it down on the counter.
"Whatever suits you," was the cool reply.
"That'll be ₤15," said the saleswoman brightly.
Cho pulled out a few crisp bills and handed it to her, catching a sign of movement out of the corner of her eye and shooting a warning look at Marietta, who was carefully taking aim at the woman with a Galleon in between her thumb and index finger. She quickly withdrew her hand and hid it behind her back, grinning sheepishly. After she had made her purchase, she took her friend by the wrist and dragged her out of the shop, only stopping outside to glance towards the woman to make sure they were out of earshot before saying with a deadly glare, "Explain yourself."
"Well, see, I recognized as her the idiot who yelled at me the last time we were in that store, and so, I-"
"- Decided to do something very immature in return," she finished. "Please, Marietta. I'd like to make it through today without you getting yourself into trouble."
"All right, don't get all upset. We can just go back to your flat now that we've gotten everything," she said hastily.
"We might as well," Cho said, throwing her hands up in exasperation. Marietta sighed in relief and immediately walked towards the front entrance, her friend following close behind. Once they had stepped out onto the busy sidewalk, neither one of them said a word as they made their way back towards Cho's apartment building, Marietta glancing sideways at her friend every now and then.
"Well," she said after a few minutes, "at least we've done what we needed to do."
"You mean, what you wanted me to do," Cho said, smiling and setting Marietta at ease again.
"Still, you have to admit that you enjoyed yourself."
"Except for when you forced me to try on that dress."
"Fine then, except for that."
"So," she said, opening the door to her building and holding it for Marietta, "who else is going to be at John's party tomorrow?"
She shrugged, causing the shopping bags hanging on her arms to collide with each other and the contents rattle slightly. "People from work, close friends, neighbors. I'm sure he's invited as many people as his flat can hold, which, I should mention, is rather large." She could barely conceal the note of pride in her voice.
"You, of all people, should know," she said slyly, pressing the button for the elevator.
Marietta opened her mouth to say something before closing it again, finally comprehending what her friend was implying, and beginning to blush; at that moment, she was saved from further comment as the doors opened with a ring and they entered, without a word. Cho pressed the button for the eighth floor and the doors began to close slowly before they finally came together to reflect the smirk on her face.
"Anyway," she continued, beginning to rummage in her purse to keep her face turned downwards until it had returned to its normal color, "loads of people will be there, and it would be a miracle if we didn't find someone who suited you perfectly."
"To be honest, I think it would be a phenomenon if we did. Or, rather, you did."
Marietta scowled and said, "All right then, what is your idea of an ideal man? At least then I'll know what to keep an eye out for."
She tilted her head slightly and gazed off, her eyes unconsciously concentrating on the reflection of her feet in the double doors in front of her, thinking carefully. What was her idea of the perfect man?
"A sense of humor like mine," she started slowly, "taller than I am, but not too much… I don't really care much about the physical features. There's only one limit to those; he can't be shorter than I am."
"That should be easy enough," her friend said, who was easily taller than her by three inches.
"It's just that- everything I'd like in a man can be changed to fit your personality. Say, for example, that I said I'd like someone considerate, you'd find a man who'd stick to me like he'd been charmed to stay by my side permanently and wait on me hand and foot. You're the type of person who craves for that sort of attention, and so, he would catch your eye immediately. Do you see what I'm saying?" she said, trying her best not to offend her friend.
"I… think so," she said, looking almost absolutely clueless; she never had been a very good liar.
Cho sighed. "I'll just point someone out to you and then you can go and strike up a conversation with him and then, somehow get onto the subject of dating and gradually introduce him to me. Very simple."
"So, you'll pick out someone in the crowd that you want to be introduced to, and then I have to talk to him, slipping you into the conversation?"
"Exactly."
"Whatever suits you," she said, shrugging one shoulder and looking doubtful.
"Trust me," she replied. "This is the only way both you and I can save ourselves the trouble and humiliation."
"If you say so," Marietta said, beginning to look more and more uninterested in the topic.
"Have you read the Daily Prophet lately? Can you believe that Cornelius Fudge was elected for another five years in office?" she said purposely steering the conversation in an entirely different direction.
"Honestly," was the obviously thankful reply, "you'd think that now we all have a say in who our Minister of Magic is, someone else would be chosen. I personally think that a considerable amount of money went into countless hands in order to fill that ballot box with votes in his favor."
"Nobody ever said that politics were honest," Cho said, smiling. The doors slid open and they stepped out onto the nicely carpeted floor of the corridor.
"You should run for office someday," said her friend.
"Me?" she said, taken by surprise. "Why?"
"You've got the charisma for it, and we need a woman in charge of the Ministry for once."
"Well, that's very flattering, Marietta, but I doubt I'd be that suited for the position."
"It's just a suggestion," she said, shrugging.
"And I'm grateful for your faith in me," she replied, pulling out the key to her flat and unlocking the door. "Why don't you stay for dinner? You can help me make it," she added.
"Hmm… well, if I recall correctly, John has to work overtime tonight and I have absolutely nothing to do, so… sure, why not?"
"Great. Just set your things down in the living room and wait for me in the kitchen while I put away my dress." She said, walking slowly towards her room as she spoke over her shoulder. Carefully removing the protective plastic wrapping from her new dress, she opened the doors of her closet and hung it on the metal bar before closing it again. Turning to leave, she gave a startled squeal as a large owl flew in to stop in mid-air, still flapping its long wings, and hold out a thick letter to her. She gave a sigh of relief as she recognized the family owl and gratefully took the envelope, stroking it on the head for a few seconds and then walking back out to the kitchen.
"What? What is it? What happened?" Marietta said, looking worried.
"I got a small scare from Aphrodite, that's all."
"The family owl?"
"Yes. She brought me a letter from…" There was a pause as she looked on the envelope for the name of the letter's sender. "Mum. It's a letter from my mother."
"Well? Go ahead, open it." She said.
Cho pulled on the flap and took out the letter, unfolding it before scanning its contents quickly. A small crease of confusion appeared between her eyes as she finished off the final few sentences and remained there as she set it down on the table to glance at the beautiful owl, still there and now perched on a chair, and then to stare off into space, lost in thought.
"Cho? What does it say?"
"It says that… she and Dad have gone on a vacation to the States for a while. To visit relatives, they said. That's why Aphrodite hasn't gone yet. They want me to keep her for them, just until they get back."
"Don't they want you to write them or vice versa while they're gone?"
"They said that they wouldn't have enough time in between places to take the time to sit down and read or write anything," she said, the look of lingering bewilderment on her face. "I suppose the only thing is to do what they say and take her in, just for the time being."
"Is there any other choice?" said Marietta rhetorically.
"Mm… well, let's get going with dinner, shall we?"
"All right. What should I do first?"
"Go and get that cookbook from top bookshelf in the living room and get your wand ready," she said, turning to pull a spare bag of owl treats out of a bottom cabinet and making a mental note to buy more food for Aphrodite the next day.
Outside, Marietta was browsing through the titles of each book on the bookshelf. Tucking a stray tendril of strawberry-blonde hair behind her ear, she tilted her head to the side a bit to help reading the words on the spines of the books.
"Aha!" she muttered to herself when her eyes landed on the cookbook. Easing it off of the shelf with one hand holding the other books in place, she pulled the book out and had half-turned to go when she noticed a small piece of paper sticking out of the top of the book, inserted somewhere in the middle of the book. Arching an eyebrow in curiosity, she opened the covers and flipped the pages until she had reached the marked page.
Spinach Quiche read the top of the page. That couldn't be right… Cho hated spinach in any form. Her sharp eyes then swept towards the paper that had kept the place in the book; it had looked as though it had been hastily shoved into that spot, being tilted at an angle with only a top corner rising above the top of the page. It was a newspaper clipping.
"Harry, Ron, Hermione left a message for me to give to you saying that she's on the main floor, waiting to go to dinner with the two of you," said the young secretary.
"Thank you, Danielle," said Harry, nodding his head politely before turning to Ron and saying quickly, gathering his things together, "Finish it up. Hermione said that she'd made reservations at that new restaurant in Diagon Alley for dinner and if we don't come when she asks us to, they'll give away our table."
"Hold on," said his friend in a strained voice. "The—bloody—filing cabinet—won't—close—" He was leaning against the metal drawer, trying to close it, despite the fact that it was filled to bursting and the papers were all askew; at the mention of Hermione, he had haphazardly thrown every file he had currently been looking over and occasionally marking into the cabinet, looking as though he was more than ready to leave.
Harry shook his head, and with a flick of his wand rearranged the papers magically to fit perfectly inside the drawer, causing Ron to receive a shock as it closed abruptly, knocking the wind out of him.
"I don't know whether I should thank you or choke you," he gasped, pausing for a second to catch his breath before putting his own possessions in his bag and following his friend out the door.
"Would you like to lock it, or should I?" Harry inquired, motioning to the still unlocked door.
"I don't want to bother with it just now," was the reply as the redhead began to walk towards the golden gates of the elevator. Pulling out the keys, he inserted the metallic gold one into the lock, gave it a turn, tested the door to see if it had locked all the way and put an extra charm on it as a precaution before following behind Ron. By the time he had caught up, the doors had already slid open and a relatively large group of people was standing, chattering with each other and evidently in no real hurry, except for the one person who was standing in the very front of the crowd, shooting daggers from his bright blue eyes at him. He stepped in and Ron jabbed the button for the doors to close, the one for the main floor having already been pressed.
"Can't this damn elevator go any faster?" he complained, constantly taking glances at his watch and looking increasingly despaired.
"Don't worry," said his friend soothingly. "I'm sure it we'll be there in time."
He gave a moan and his hands twitched slightly, almost as though he was struggling to keep them from giving a tug of frustration at his flaming red hair, his ears slowly beginning to match in color.
Just as Harry thought Ron had reached the point of exploding, whether it would be verbally or physically being the mystery, the cool female voice was heard announcing the main floor level and with a small ding, the doors opened to reveal the main floor of the Ministry of Magic. Ron sped out of the elevator and almost ran to the center of the room where Hermione was waiting for them beside the fountain, restored soon after Voldemort's final downfall, with her arms crossed and her foot tapping slightly as she watched two paintings on the wall squabbling over some unknown offense. She let out a small sigh of relief as she spotted them approaching her and with a slightly reprimanding smile, waved to them, hugging Harry first and then doing the same to Ron with a kiss on the cheek added once they had reached her.
"Thank goodness. I was beginning to get a bit fidgety when one of the paintings over there, the lady, threatened to pull out a knife and cut off that painted man's—"
"Never mind that," said her boyfriend hastily as he and Harry gave an involuntary shudder. "We need to go before we lose our table."
"He's gotten more punctual every day since our first date," she muttered proudly to Harry as the second youngest Weasley began half walking and half running again.
"I'm not quite sure if that's good or bad," he murmured back as Ron narrowly avoided running straight into the telephone booth in his rush.
"Would you hurry it up?" he called impatiently, sliding open the clear glass door. They walked quickly to calm him down a bit and stepped in, barely escaping being crushed by the door as it was slammed shut and the booth began to rise. As soon as the door opened again, the two were almost jogging to keep up with Ron's long strides and, to their relief, they were soon standing in front of the restaurant, panting heavily.
"Ladies first," said Ron, holding the door open for Hermione, who smiled and walked in. He followed suit and, not thinking, left his post at the door, nearly causing Harry to collide head-on with the extremely clean glass. He narrowed his eyes slightly, his friend not noticing his mistake, being busy helping Hermione into a chair, gentleman as he was. Sighing, he supposed that a few exceptions had to be made in the name of love and chose not to pester him with something so trivial. Instead, he sat down and picked up the menu, looking down the list of food items; unlike other restaurant or cafés he had been to, this one had a multi-cultural theme, with different dishes ranging in area from the United States to Indonesia, and certainly a few interesting mixes that he had never even heard of before.
"What do you think seaweed with powdered grindylow bone sauce tastes like?" he asked.
"No idea," Ron said, making a face.
"I imagine it's fairly interesting if they don't crush the bones properly…" said Hermione, looking a bit thoughtful as she read the small print as to what all went with that particular dish.
"What would you like to drink?" asked the waitress, pulling a pad of paper and a quill out of her apron pocket and the small nametag placed carefully above her shirt pocket reading Loretta.
"I'll have water," said Harry, looking up momentarily.
"I think I will as well…" said Hermione absently, still reading through the list.
"Water sounds all right to me," said Ron automatically.
"I'll be right back, then, to take your orders." She said briskly, sticking the quill behind her ear and walking towards the kitchen.
"So, Harry, Ron, how was work today?" asked Hermione, setting down the menu and propping her chin on one hand.
"It was all right." Harry said, shrugging. "Fisher was a bit less ill-tempered today."
"At least he didn't yell at me again," Ron muttered, deliberately hiding his face behind his menu.
She coughed to hide a small laugh and her smile grew wider as her eyes met Harry's, none of this small exchange coming to the attention of the man sitting calmly with the glossy menu spread open in front of his face.
"How are things in your department?" he asked, putting it down.
"They're all right. Female Aurors in this Ministry are rare, so it's a bit dull; they only let us read files concerning cases taken care of by women, the prejudiced dimwits," she said, an edge in her voice as she finished speaking.
"You'd think that the fact you graduated as valedictorian and Head Girl would mean something," Ron said, shaking his head.
"Well, you'll prove them wrong. Once we've all completed our training, you'll make those old-fashioned notions disappear from their minds. You'll be a one-woman revolution." Said Harry reassuringly.
"Well, I'm not sure about being a revolution, but I'm thankful for the support all the same," she said, the grin on her face reappearing.
"Ready to order?" said the waitress, setting down the three glasses of water, small cubes of ice floating on top of them with a slice of lemon on the rim, and pulling out her pad and quill again.
"Yes, um, I'll have the Caesar Salad with thousand island dressing, a small bowl of the tomato soup, and the roast beef dish." Said Hermione, handing her menu to the waitress.
"Would you like the rice and vegetables or a bread roll with the roast beef?"
"Mm, I'll have both," she answered, turning away from the sight of Loretta writing down her order to look at Ron and Harry, who were staring openmouthed at her.
"What?" she said defensively.
"Nothing," Harry said quickly.
"You know I like a girl who eats," said Ron indifferently.
"I'd like the All-American Special, and hold the mustard and pickles on the cheeseburger," said Harry, handing over his menu as well.
"And I'll have the All-American Special as well, with everything," Ron said, giving Loretta the last of the menus.
"Will that be all?" she asked, putting away her pad and quill.
"Yes, thank you." Hermione said, with a grateful nod. "Now, where were we?"
"We were talking about you being a one-woman revolution," Ron reminded her.
"Ah, yes… we'll just have to wait and see, won't we?" she said, taking a sip from her drink.
"You know, Harry and I were talking earlier today about the fact that he doesn't have anyone."
"Of course he does! Don't be silly! He has us."
"No, I meant that he doesn't have… what's the word for it? A 'special someone'? A girlfriend?"
"Actually, that is a good question," she said, looking at Harry. "You're the famous Harry Potter, the 'Boy-who-lived.' "—She made quotation mark motions with her fingers—"Surely that means something to women."
"Yeah," he said, giving a derisive snort. "If you're looking for a way to become a celebrity, just go out on a date with me and you have instant fame."
"Oh, it can't be that bad, can it?" she asked incredulously.
"Worse," said Ron. "He not only turns down every woman who's interested in him, but he goes far enough to try and avoid the female population by all means possible."
Hermione turned to look at him, her eyebrows raised in surprise; he, in turn, lowered his head slightly and said, "It's not quite like that."
"So, what is it like then?" she said, her face softening slightly.
"It's… difficult to explain. It's just… I think I'll know when I find the right woman. All the other women who've pursued me, they're all looking for something in me to improve their lives. If someone's dated me once, they're bound to be remembered in all the bloody tabloids that'll dig up these things every now and then and publish them just to do it."
"Are you looking for perfection or something of the like? Because it certainly sounds like your expectations and standards are unusually high." She said, lowering one eyebrow to give him an inquiring look.
"You haven't even considered going out with someone else since your fifth year at Hogwarts." Ron added, fishing an ice cube out of his glass with his spoon and popping it into his mouth.
"Trust me. I'll know when I find her."
"If you say so," said Hermione, looking skeptical, her expression abruptly changing to one of excitement as she remembered something and then adding, "Did you hear about Lavender Brown?"
Harry shook his head and added slyly, "I thought you weren't one for gossip."
She rolled her eyes. "When you work with a group of the most feminine, fluttery, dunce-headed—"
"We get the general idea." Ron said, stopping her.
"Let's just say that the time that should be spent reading over old reports or files is usually spent reading the latest issue of Witch Weekly." She finished, looking disgusted. "They must have rubbed off on me."
"So? What about Lavender?"
"She's getting married."
"To who?" asked Ron disbelievingly.
"Roger Davies."
"Well, congratulations to them," Harry said, smiling. "When is the wedding?"
"I'm not sure, but she stopped by the office today just to tell me the good news."
"Why didn't she tell Parvati first?"
"She did. She told me second. Anyway, she said that she'd be inviting all of us, Gryffindor loyalty and all. Now, if only Ginny could settle down as well, hmm?" said Hermione, looking at Ron with malicious sarcasm.
"There's no way in hell she's going to marry any man at her age," he replied stubbornly.
"You seem to forget that she's nineteen going on twenty, Ron."
"Exactly. She's too young."
She shook her head and looked exasperatingly at Harry, who raised his eyebrows in return.
"Old habits die hard," he muttered.
"In this case, they'll never die at all," she said under her breath.
"What was that?" Ron said sharply.
"I said, 'They've recently repainted the main hall.' "
He narrowed his eyes at her, looking suspicious, and Harry tried his best not to smile too broadly.
"What the…?" was all that flashed through Marietta's mind as she looked carefully at the newspaper clipping, a picture of Harry Potter being almost the only item on it.
"Maybe…" she muttered aloud, thinking hard and putting several pieces of the puzzle together. And it all made sense. Why she hadn't dated anyone she had truly liked in the past few years. Why she never tried to look for someone else by herself. But there was a small chance, just a sliver of a chance that maybe… she sincerely hoped that John would get off of work soon enough for her to be able to ask him a few questions.
"Marietta? What's taking so long?"
"Um, I couldn't find it, but now I see it," she called back.
"Well, hurry it up a bit, won't you?"
"Coming!" she said, hastily slipping the picture in-between two random books on the middle shelf and walking back to the kitchen, a new plan already formulating in her head.
A/N: Bet you thought this was going to be the chapter with the party, didn't you? C'mon, admit it! Hee hee hee… evil, evil, evil… Okay, weird ranting mode over. I'm so sorry this took so long! But this one's a lot longer than the last one. Honestly, I had such a good response to the last chapter and it was just, in my opinion, the best chapter I've written for anything and so it was really hard to follow up with something just as good, you know? Plus, I've had a case of writer's block (be glad it was a little bit under a month you had to wait, with my schedule added into the mix!) and so this was just a chapter I really struggled with. Oh, and as for my obsession with writing about Harry and Cho's friends saying over and over again that they should begin dating again, it's just to emphasize the fact that they're totally isolating themselves away from other people and how they're all alone. Yeah. Thanks to you all for being here for me and reviewing.
As for the poll I took, the choices for the most insecure female character are as follows: Cho, Hermione, Ginny, Marietta, and Pansy. If you'll pick one of these and tell me which on you've selected in your review, I'd be very grateful. Also, although this doesn't seem to go over well with my reviewers for my other story, I've decided that this is review one of Unicorn13's lesser-read stories month. I wouldn't suggest Pansy's Story, because it was my very first fan fic and in all honesty, it… sucks, but I think you'd like the other two, which are songfics. You don't have to; I just got this strange urge to decide upon that. Yeah. Anyway, can't wait to hear from all of you, and hopefully more than that!
Unicorn13
