Disillusionment

Chapter 3: Offers

I highly doubt I need to post another disclaimer. Why is it even required? It's not like any published author would post his/her works on the Internet.

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One week. One week before the Yule Ball, and Ginny still did not have a date.

Not that she hadn't expected this. She couldn't allow herself to become so bigheaded that she actually believed that someone would ask her. Yet a tiny part of her was always lit with a small spark of hope, that Harry would...

Rubbish. That idea was ludicrous. Absurd. Absolutely ridiculous.

Time to stop hoping, Ginny told herself. If he hasn't asked by now, he never will. Maybe he's already asked that Ravenclaw girl.

Quite unexpectedly, Hermione's words from a few nights ago echoed back to her.

"He hasn't got a date to the Yule Ball yet, you know. I'm sure that if you ask him... Ginny, I'm sure he won't mind going with you..."

Ask him. Ginny could almost laugh at the idea. She'd rather face a dragon than embarrass herself in front of him that way.

That nagging little voice in the back of her head still bothered her, though. How do you know that he'll say no? How do you know what will happen? You don't. Just ask. Take the initiative.

The more Ginny tried to ignore the voice, the louder it became, up to the point when she shouted out loud for it to shut up. A few students in the Common Room turned their heads to stare at her.

She would do it tonight. No, not tonight. She needed time to compose and prepare herself.

Tomorrow, then.

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Ginny's voice did not seem to be working properly. She cleared her throat, but she still couldn't force sound from it. She licked her lips and took a sip of pumpkin juice. Raising her head to look at Harry, who was sitting across from her in the Great Hall, she opened her mouth to speak.

"Harry," she managed to choke out.

Harry looked startled that she was addressing him. "What's up, Ginny?"

Ask him if you can talk to him in private, the little voice in her head instructed.

"Can you—I mean, can I—can you... pass the marmalade?" Ginny winced, her cheeks on fire. Why, oh why, had she said that? Can you pass the marmalade? Stupid, stupid!

Harry stared at her, his brows furrowed into a politely puzzled expression. "Uh... sure, Ginny." He passed her the marmalade, and Ginny put it carefully next to her plate. She made sure to avoid his gaze for the rest of breakfast.

She found another opportunity when she was walking out of her Defense against the Dark Arts class. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were only a few steps ahead of her.

Don't blow it this time, she told herself. Gathering up her courage, she shouted in a clear voice, "Harry!"

Harry turned around and waited for her to catch up.

"Er," said Ginny, stopping right in front of him. She glanced uncomfortably at Ron and Hermione. "Can I talk to you privately?"

"Sure." Harry shot a meaningful look at his friends, but only Hermione made to move out of earshot. Ron was staring at Ginny like he'd never seen her before.

"Oh, honestly, Ron," said Hermione impatiently, walking back and seizing Ron's arm, effectively dragging him away. "Don't you understand the meaning of the word 'privately'?" She looked back and gave Ginny an encouraging smile.

Ginny shifted her weight from foot to foot, painstakingly formulating the words in her head. She looked into his eyes, his wide green eyes...

Green as a fresh-picked toad. Ginny had to stifle a giggle. The valentine she had send him in her first year had been an agonizing experience, and she found herself wondering—hoping, actually—that he had forgotten completely about it.

He was looking at her with—with what? Curiosity. A slight note of concern. No impatience, however.

"Ginny, is something wrong?"

"No," she said immediately. "Not at all." She took a deep breath.

A loud clatter and a muffled yell made her jump. She looked at Harry again, only to see that his eyes had left her face, and he was searching for the cause of the sound.

They hurried down the hall, and the reason for the disturbance became clear. Neville had forgotten about the trick stair, and he was hopelessly stuck, his hands waving in wild panic above his head. His bag lay at the bottom of the staircase, its contents strewn across the floor.

Ginny scrambled down the stairs and piled Neville's books, quills, and ink bottles back into his bag while Harry pulled Neville out.

"Thanks," said Neville as Ginny handed him his bag. He wiped the sweat off of his face.

An awkward moment of silence ensued as Ginny tried to decide what to say to Harry.

"Ginny, what were you going to tell me?" Harry asked, at the exact same moment as Neville blurted out, "Ginny, can I talk to you privately?"

Ginny stared in dismay at the two of them. They both fixed their eyes on her, waiting for her response.

It's no good, Ginny realized. Even if Harry hadn't already asked someone else—even if he would have been willing to go with me—I can't ask. Not now, not like this. The moment's ruined.

She closed her eyes and took a moment to collect herself, blinking away the tears that threatened to spill from the corners of her eyes. "It's okay, Harry," she said at last, her voice shaking very slightly. "It wasn't important."

Harry looked at her questioningly. "Are you sure? It sounded important..."

"It doesn't matter."

"If you say so." He thrust his hands in his robe pockets and turned to leave. "I'll see you, Ginny."

"Yeah," said Ginny, her voice hollow. "See you." She watched him leave, and was jolted out of her trance by Neville's voice.

"Ginny? Are you all right?"

"What? Oh, yes, I'm fine. Really. Absolutely spiffy."

He eyed her uncertainly. "Well, I was sort of wondering... if... if you'd like to, er, if you'd like to... go to the ball with me?" He said the last six words very quickly.

Ginny froze, certain that she had misheard. "What?"

"I said—" Neville colored. "Do you... do you, um, want to go to the ball with me?"

Neville. Neville's asking me. Ginny stood rooted to the spot, unable to respond.

Poor Neville was getting even more flustered. "Unless you're already going with someone else, or—or maybe you just don't want to go with me. Sorry I asked, Ginny."

Ginny snapped out of her trance and made up her mind quickly. Neville was a decent bloke, and one of the nicest people she had ever met. Going to the Yule Ball with him would be all right. He wasn't Harry, but he was a friend. A friend who took the effort and consideration to ask her.

"Wait, Neville," she said. "I'd love to go with you."

Neville's face lit up. "Really?"

Ginny chose her next words carefully. "It'll be fun."

"Yeah. But—" Here, Neville blushed again. "I think I should warn you—I'm not such a great dancer."

Ginny shrugged. "It's all right."

"Okay." Neville lingered a moment longer, then added, "I guess I'd better head off to class, then. I'll see you, Ginny. Thanks."

She nodded, watching him leave, then headed toward the greenhouses for Herbology. Her mind whirled with the events that transpired over the last half hour. It wasn't until she was halfway to the greenhouses when she remembered that Neville had asked her only because he was rejected by Hermione.

Ginny sighed miserably, drawing her scarf more tightly around her neck. She wasn't even Neville's first choice. Not that anything was wrong with Neville—he had never been anything less than kind and polite to her—but he was... Neville.

"Boys are stupid," said Luna Lovegood knowingly. "Don't let them bother you, Ginny."

Ginny realized with surprise that she had already arrived at the greenhouses, and was standing rather foolishly, having had no idea what Professor Sprout had said for the last ten minutes. She looked wonderingly at Luna. Luna always seemed to have her head in the clouds; yet she was remarkably perceptive of others' moods and the cause of them.

"Thanks, Luna," said Ginny. She managed to cheer up somewhat after focusing on her work and earning ten points for Gryffindor.

In fact, by the time the bell rang for dinner, Ginny's mood had lifted considerably. She'd managed to convince herself that going to the Yule Ball with Neville wouldn't be terrible, and besides, most of the girls in her year didn't even have dates.

"Ginny!" Hermione called from the table, waving.

Ginny joined Hermione at the Gryffindor table and helped herself to roast beef. Between mouthfuls, she related every detail of the afternoon to Hermione.

"Oh, Ginny," Hermione said sympathetically when the story was finished. "I'm so sorry."

Ginny shrugged. "I'll live. It was my fault, anyway. If I hadn't stalled for time... if I'd asked Harry right away... oh, I don't know."

Hermione nodded. "Where are those two, anyway? They never skip a meal."

Ginny swallowed her last mouthful. "I'll go to the common room and check."

Hermione nodded, and Ginny made her way back to the common room. Upon first glance, the room seemed empty, and Ginny was about to head down to the Great Hall again, but then she saw him. Ron, sitting in a corner, hidden by shadows, his back hunched and his hands hiding his face.

Ginny hesitated, trying to judge whether or not he would bite her head off if she approached him. She took silent steps crossing the room, and when she reached him, she tapped him lightly on the shoulder.

Ron started, then turned around and saw Ginny. "Oh, it's you. Don't scare me like that."

Ginny pulled a chair out from the table and sat. "What's wrong, Ron?"

He stared past her, hands folded on the table. "I can't believe I did that."

A small frown burrowed itself into Ginny's forehead. "You're going to have to be more specific than that, Ron."

Ron didn't reply. His fingers tapped a rhythm on the desk as he gazed into the fireplace.

"Listen," said Ginny, "Hermione's looking for you, and she's waiting for me to go back to dinner. I'll just go, and whenever you feel like you're ready, you can—"

"No, Ginny! Don't leave me!"

There was a definite note of panic in Ron's voice, and if it didn't sound like something was seriously wrong, Ginny would have laughed. Instead, she settled back in her seat and waited for him.

"I asked Fleur Delacour to the ball," he said at last, his words tumbling out.

Ginny gaped at him and had to exercise all her self-control not to laugh. Sisterly duty, she reminded herself sternly. "Oh, Ron," she said sympathetically as she could, reaching forward to pat his arm. "What did she say?"

"She didn't even say anything. She was just staring at me the way you'd stare at gum at the bottom of someone's shoe."

"Ron, it'll be all right. She'll forget about it, you'll forget about it, and you'll have a nice girl to go to the Yule Ball with and everyone will be fine."

"What's up, Ron?" said a very familiar voice.

Harry. Ginny swallowed any feelings that might have surfaced and fixed him with a perfectly neutral expression.

Ron looked up at Harry, a sort of blind horror in his face.

"Why did I do it?" he said wildly. "I don't know what made me do it!"

"What?" said Harry.

"He—er—just asked Fleur Delacour to go to the ball with him," said Ginny. Her mouth was twitching, and it hurt from having to keep suppressing a smile.

"You what?" said Harry.

"I don't know what made me do it!" Ron gasped. "What was I playing at? There were people—all around—I've gone mad—everyone watching! I was just walking past her in the entrance hall—she was standing there talking to Diggory—and it sort of came over me—and I asked her!"

Ron moaned and put his face in his hands. He kept talking, though the words were barely distinguishable.

"She looked at me like I was a sea slug or something. Didn't even answer. And then—I dunno—I just sort of came to my senses and ran for it."

"She's part veela," said Harry. "You were right—her grandmother was one. It wasn't your fault, I bet you just walked past when she was turning on the old charm for Diggory and got a blast of it—but she was wasting her time. He's going with Cho Chang."

Ron looked up, and Ginny did as well. Diggory was going with Cho Chang? Then Harry wasn't going with her... but how would he know this?

"I asked her to go with me just now," Harry said dully, "and she told me."

Oh. It wasn't like Ginny hadn't expected him to ask her, but there had always been a foolish corner in her mind that thought that he'd ask her, Ginny, and... Ginny didn't allow herself to finish the thought. This wasn't Harry's fault. This was her fault for being stupid enough to wish for something so ridiculous.

"This is mad," said Ron. "We're the only ones left who haven't got anyone—well, except Neville. Hey—guess who he asked? Hermione!"

"What?" said Harry.

"Yeah, I know!" said Ron, laughing. "He told me after Potions! Said she's always been really nice, helping him out with work and stuff—but she told him she was already going with someone. Ha! As if! She just didn't want to go with Neville... I mean, who would?"

If Harry wasn't there, Ginny would have taken a good swing at her brother. "Don't!" she said. "Don't laugh—"

At that moment, Hermione climbed through the portrait hole.

"Why weren't you two at dinner?" she said when she arrived at their table.

Harry and Ron were both laughing too hard to answer, and a mischievous spark lit up in Ginny's eyes. "Because—oh shut up laughing, you two—because they've both just been turned down by girls they asked to the ball!"

Amazing, Ginny noted with satisfaction, how quickly the two of them fell silent.

"Thanks a bunch, Ginny," said Ron sourly.

"All the good-looking ones taken, Ron?" said Hermione loftily. "Eloise Midgen starting to look quite pretty now, is she? Well, I'm sure you'll find someone somewhere who'll have you."

But Ron was staring at Hermione as though suddenly seeing her in a whole new light.

"Hermione, Neville's right—you are a girl..."

Ginny could hardly believe how slow her brother was. Not to mention completely tactless.

"Oh well spotted," Hermione said acidly.

"Well—you can come with one of us!"

Oh, way to ask a girl to the ball! Ginny glanced at Hermione, whose cheeks were flushed.

"No, I can't," snapped Hermione.

Ginny silently cheered Hermione on. How did Hermione put up with someone as thick as Ron all the time?

"Oh come on," he said impatiently, "we need partners, we're going to look really stupid if we haven't got any, everyone else has..."

"I can't come with you," said Hermione, now blushing, "because I'm already going with someone."

"No, you're not!" said Ron. "You just said that to get rid of Neville!"

"Oh did I?" said Hermione, and her eyes flashed dangerously. "Just because it's taken you three years to notice, Ron, doesn't mean no one else has spotted I'm a girl!"

Score! Ginny began to make mental tally marks of victories for the bickering couple. She caught Harry's eye. He was looking from Ron to Hermione with a wryly amused expression.

Ron stared at Hermione. Then he grinned again.

"Okay, okay, we know you're a girl," he said. "That do? Will you come now?"

"I've already told you!" Hermione said very angrily. "I'm going with someone else!"

And she stormed off toward the girls' dormitories.

"She's lying," said Ron.

"She's not," said Ginny. Honestly, how long is it going to take you to believe this?

"Who is it then?" said Ron sharply.

"I'm not telling you, it's her business," said Ginny. Right, like you really expected me to tell you.

"Right," said Ron, who looked extremely put out, "this is getting stupid. Ginny, you can go with Harry, and I'll just—"

It was like someone had just dropped a boulder on Ginny's feet.

"I can't," she said, and she felt herself going more scarlet than Hermione. "I'm going with—with Neville. He asked me when Hermione said no, and I thought...well...I'm not going to be able to go otherwise, I'm not in fourth year." Her eyes prickled with the all-too-familiar onslaught of tears, and she quickly bowed her head. "I think I'll go and have dinner," she said, and she got up and walked off to the portrait hole.

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She cried, not caring what she looked like to passersby, not caring if anyone saw her. The cold stung her cheeks and made her tremble violently, but she didn't care. The practical voice inside her head kept trying to list reasons not to cry, but she didn't want to listen. Not now. All she wanted now was to cry until she couldn't cry anymore, to lay her head in her mother's lap and be surrounded by warmth and love.

At last, her tears subsided, and she wiped her face with her sleeve. After she'd excused herself from Harry and Ron, she'd run, not exactly sure where she was going. She'd pushed open the great oak doors and had run outside, and kept on running until she couldn't run anymore, before collapsing onto the ground and sobbing.

She stood up shakily and took a deep breath, and began walking back to her dormitory. She managed to laugh a bit at her outburst. After all, all of this was just about a stupid dance. It wasn't worth getting into hysterics over.

But... Her heart wrenched painfully over the discoveries of the evening. She could have gone with Harry. Oh, why couldn't she just wait for him to ask her? He would have, eventually—well, no, Ron would have suggested that Ginny go with Harry eventually, but that was still something. Why had she said yes to Neville? Why couldn't she have asked Harry herself?

Her feet were numb, and she could barely feel her legs. She'd forgotten to bring a cloak when she went outside.

But Harry—Harry never asked you. Harry doesn't want to go with you; he wanted to go with Cho. Why would you want to go with someone who doesn't want to go with you?

Because he's Harry. Because from the moment I first saw him, at King's Cross, I knew. Because I've hidden my feelings for him for all these years—all right, not very skillfully—but still. This is important to me.

But think about it. If you go with Harry, would you have fun? Or would you just watch him watch Cho and have the whole ball be completely awkward? Better to go with Neville.

But Neville didn't want to go with me, either.

The rational part of her brain could not think of something to respond with. Ginny sighed, burying her hands in her pockets.

I hate the Yule Ball. I wish I haven't been asked by anyone. I wish I don't have to worry about any of this.

She was at the door. She pulled it open and went inside, relishing the warm air that pervaded inside the hall.

She continued to walk, slowly, up the staircase, toward the Gryffindor common room, sniffling away the last of her tears.

It will be all right.

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A/N: I've noticed something weird about Seems like I lose roughly three hundred and sixty words for the word count for every chapter I post. At first, I didn't think much of it, but it's happened every single time, and this cannot be a coincidence. I suspect that this is enforced so that the very long author's notes in the chapters can be accounted for, but I hardly even write author's notes. Maybe I should. I don't care exactly how many words my stories are, but I think that all the words I write should be counted... Otherwise, I'd be missing over a thousand words every three chapters, and that's not worth it.

So, on with the long author's note. Hope the chapter was worth reading. I tried hard not to make the Harry-Ron-Ginny-Hermione scene in the common room identical to the one in the book, but there's only so much I can do since the dialogue is exactly the same. Sorry about the repetitiveness.

Please review! I know how I was talking about not begging for reviews in the last chapter, and I'll adhere to my own suggestion. But please review and tell me what you think. It's a lot easier to continue a story if I know that you want it to be continued.

Random tidbit that has nothing to do with the chapter: Have any of you ever watched Into the Woods? It's a Sondheim musical, and we watched it for English just a week or so ago. It's so fun. My friend burned the soundtrack for me, and we've been reciting the witch soliloquy about greens every day and driving everyone else crazy.

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