"Such captivating Green Eyes,
Those tender and serene eyes,
Those never ever mean eyes,
They're so loving and true.
The sea beneath the blue skies
Is reflecting your Green Eyes,
And the trees in the wood-land
keep reminding me too
My heart where in my love lies
Is tel-ing me of love ties,
I look into your Green Eyes
and wonder if you care.
My dreams are all a-bout you,
And when ever I doubt you,
I look into your Green Eyes
and I find my heaven there."-
Cancion Bolero, Green Eyes
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
In which Hermione has a rash and Narcissa interrupts Ginny's daydreaming...
September 26, 2003
Hermione woke up at six in the morning. This was due, in part, to her late-to-bed, early-to-rise tendencies. It was mostly due, however, to an itch spreading across her face in the form of large red blotches. The itch she attributed to the blotches, and the blotches she attributed to an over-large red bouquet she'd had the misfortune of rolling onto in the night
"Blech…" She knocked the flowers down to her carpeted floor with a well-aimed kick and raised herself up onto one elbow. Catching her reflection in the bedside mirror, she stopped. It was going to be a long day, not least of all because of the "Wedding Shower at Ginny's", which a now-crumpled note, flung carelessly onto her bedroom floor, was commanding her to attend.
She crawled the remaining four feet to the bathroom and, through sheer willpower, managed to stand and face herself in the mirror, examining the swollen mass of redness that had once been her face with an air of barely-detectable panic.
Of all the completely random spells Hermione knew, and there were a lot of them (If she ever felt the need to change a galleon into a gopher she'd be set.), she'd never learned a single cosmetic spell. There'd been no need. In school, when the rare touch-up was needed, Parvati and Lavender had always been more than willing to banish the odd blemish, provided she'd allow them to do her make-up (the number of times she'd thanked God for "scourgify"…). After school she'd had Ginny, and then Draco (however metro-sexual he pretended to not be), to "fix her up". She'd never cracked a copy of "Witch Weekly", either, and the copy of "Gilderoy Lockhart's Guide to Getting Gorgeous" (a book her former professor had penned after being reminded by Miss Gladys Gudgeon that he was still, quote, "as dreamy as ever") that Ginny had given her as an early wedding present now stood in use as a doorstop at Flourish and Blott's.
She tentatively swung open her mirror, revealing, as she'd expected, three empty shelves and a top-shelf filled only with an enchanted razor ("Sister Fey: The razor that flat out refuses to cut you"), a tube of toothpaste, a dark blue toothbrush, and a tube of perfume that had once belonged to Ginny (she'd left it behind when she moved out), no cover-up, no nothing. So, not knowing any cosmetic spells and not about to show her face in wizarding-public looking like the swamp-thing, Hermione did what any young, bright, muggleborn witch would do. After a good, long, scream, she threw on her coat and went in search of a muggle pharmacy.
Today's headline read: House-Elf Activist Expecting. Which would be a Very Boring Headline Indeed, if, in fact, that was what Madame Alexis Morrow was really writing about. The article following this Very Boring Headline was a heaping load of fluff and strung-out half-truths, an example of the lows modern journalism had come to. It was steeped in rumors and lies (though the biggest and most obvious lie was only known to be a lie by three people in the known world) and repeatedly trekked off onto unexplainable tangents on everything from the "wretched state of child-care today" to the "disgraceful lack of honor harbored by modern bridal gowns". The complete terribleness of the article did not, however, stop a total of two-hundred-and-thirty-seven housewives in the greater London area from snatching the paper out of the hands of their much-perturbed husbands and poring over the Daily Prophet as though it were the latest issue of Witch Weekly. In fact, a total of two-hundred-and-seventy-two witches and wizards had pinned the article, along with the black and white photograph of a very frumpy-looking Hermione Granger, to their kitchen (or bedroom) walls by the time Ginny Weasley had even rolled out of bed and clawed her way to the bathroom, where in she discovered this frightfully terrible headline already tacked to her mirror.
After grimacing for an appropriately long moment, she snatched the article down and situated herself against the sink, intending to spend some time perusing it.
"Marriage," It began, "is a sacred, loving, respectable institution. In recent years, the popularity of the D words— death, destruction, damnation, and divorce— having increased, and this sacred institution has been mutilated and boxed into child's play. Where is the love?
"That, too, seems to have been stolen and hoarded by the world's beautiful people. Take one Miss Hermione Granger, a noted, respectable house-elf activist. She's also a regulation hottie…"
Ginny did a double-take. Yes, she'd read it right. She looked skeptically down at the distressed Hermione staring back up at her. "Thank god for the Daily Prophet." She smirked.
"Granger, a statuesque beauty with child-bearing hips and a full head of curls that Da Vinci would have loved, possesses the kind of unassuming, self-possessed, unconventional beauty—"
Ginny snorted.
"—that would have her modeling for Madame Malkin's if she hadn't gone into activism. This petite goddess has stolen the hearts of some of the wizarding world's most eligible bachelors in her mere twenty-three years. At the age of only fourteen she was connected to Viktor Krum and Harry Potter, at twenty she was engaged to Chudley Cannon's manager Ronald "Ron" Weasley (a relationship that, sources say, the lanky red-head has yet to—"
Ginny gave a small hiccup and skipped to the next sentence.
"—After their very public break-up, Granger disappeared for a little less than a year. While very little is known about where she went or with whom, it is known that she returned in the company of Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Black Malfoy, and heir to the Malfoy fortune.
"Since then, Granger and Malfoy have been very open about their relationship, while Malfoy Senior (a convicted supporter of you-know-who) has been openly disapproving.
"Recently, and in a shocking twist to this already shameful tale, the "Vixen", as members of the Coalition Against Change (CAC for short) call her, and her current Romeo announced their plans to wed. We here at the Daily Prophet found this sudden announcement very suspicious, and so dug deeper, to find (as we suspected) that Ms. Granger's intentions are not so pure.
"This wedding seems to be in direct conjunction to the fact that Hermione Jane Granger has recently found herself with a bun in the oven. That's right, this already scandalous marriage is, in fact, a marriage of convenience. I, personally, am shocked at their lack of shame. Where is their respect for the holy institution of marriage? I'm simply glad that there are still gentlemen out there who, like Malfoy, would marry a woman in need, even if the accident is his."
Ginny folded the article in half and walked across her flat to the one-room kitchen, where she commanded a pot of coffee to boil and then sat down to read the rest.
"Granger herself refused to reply to any of our owls, but her mother, Rebecca Laurence-Granger, said that she was "so excited to help her little girl get married again!"
Ginny laughed outright, she always had liked Mrs. Granger.
"Her sister, Jaquenetta "Jeanie" Granger, has also said that she's very excited to come to the wedding, but she's especially excited about dress shopping. Last time around Miss—"
"'Lo Miss, is this seat open?"
Ginny lifted her eyes to meet Kyle's vivid green ones. She'd always loved Kyle's eyes, she almost felt like she was looking at… but no. She nodded and gestured for him to sit. He did and they spent a long moment watching each other. Ginny didn't like starting conversations, she always felt rude. Silence isn't so terrible, anyway, she reminded herself.
"Have any dreams?"
Yes. "No," she lied.
"Hm."
Hm, indeed.
He told her about his dream. He'd been riding a whale and… she didn't care and so didn't listen. For a silly guy Kyle had surprisingly boring dreams. She nodded. She let her eyes meet his to give the illusion of attention. They were such pretty eyes, so much like Harry's. So very much like Harry's.
She loved Kyle's eyes. Kyle's eyes when he was angry, Kyle's eyes when he smiled, Kyle's eyes when he was tired, hungry, horny, Kyle's eyes wide open, staring into hers when he kissed her. She loved staring into his eyes as they fucked, and as she came, her mind lost in a fantasy world where she screamed "Harry, Harry, Harry" even as she whispered "I love you, Kyle". Because Kyle loved her, and she loved Kyle's eyes.
She'd seen those eyes last night, in her dream. In her dream she was back in the Chamber, watching her younger self as she waited. In her dream, she watched as a man materialized, slowly, before her. She watched Tom. She watched herself pass out, cold, her red hair fanned out on the ground. She watched Harry, coming to her rescue. Wasn't he always?
She'd watched the basilisk, slithering past her, an invisible bystander. She'd watched as Harry destroyed the basilisk, and then Tom. Then they'd left, leaving her small, unconscious self on the ground. She'd screamed at them "No! Don't leave me! Don't leave me!". She tried to wake herself up, cradling her younger self in her arms, crying until she felt a hand on her shoulder. She'd turned to see Tom watching her. "Didn't you know?" he said, "You were always stuck here."
Ring-ring
The harsh reality of bells ringing in the deli below brought her back from her reveries.
"Seven to Ten, love." Kyle flashed her a boyish grin, threw on an apron, and swung himself down the firefighter's pole that led to the deli's kitchen. Ginny watched his empty seat for a moment before following him.
"Hello, Narcissa." She tried to look amiably at the woman surveying her deli, her home, as though it were the biggest, most fluorescent sty she'd ever seen.
"Ginevra." Narcissa Malfoy's frown deepened as she surveyed Kyle. "Boy."
"Kyle," Kyle provided, "Ginny's boyfriend."
"So I see." Narcissa's eyes darted to the fresh hickey under Kyle's left ear.
"Um, yeah." Kyle grinned and darted back into the kitchen.
"I hear you're having a wedding shower." Narcissa grinned. Obviously, this was what she had come to talk about. This was the reason she'd walked into a deli she previously hadn't known existed and this was why she was consorting with a Weasley.
"Yes, this afternoon actually." Ginny grabbed a wet towel and started moving dirt around on the counter, making circles of dirty water as she went.
"Lovely." Narcissa watched Ginny's hands, small and callused but with a killer manicure, as she worked.
"Were you planning on coming, then?"
"I'm afraid my invitation must have gotten lost in the mail. Owls these days, you know."
"Ah, yes. Well," Ginny threw the towel into the sink with a large squelch and a considerable splash, "If you want to come you are hitherto invited, seeing as Mal- Draco," she corrected, "is your son."
"He is. He does have cousins, too, you know."
"Bring them with, too, then." Ginny laughed. "The venue's not that big, but we can squeeze in as many as would like to come. So long as we can breathe."
"How… charming. What club is this going to be at, then?" Narcissa pulled a peacock-feather quill and a long-looking receipt from her crocodile-skin clutch. She balanced the quill on the back of the receipt.
"Oh," Ginny grinned. "Just here. In the deli."
A/N: Alright, here's chapter seventeen sooner than I expected. I decided to split what I'd intended to put into chapter sixteen into three chapters, instead of two. Maybe in the end it'll be four. Ah well. Also, if you can't say "fuck" in a PG-13 story could someone please tell me? Cause I'm not sure and I'm wondering if I ought to move the rating up.
Chapter Dedication: Jillian and Mira and everyone who will have stuck with me for over half a year. As usual. Cause I realize I promised this chapter so many times. But here it is. I love you all.