Rating: R or M(I'm upping this chapter to R because of language and adult situations)
Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own Harry Potter or any of these characters. This silly plot is mine.
Summary: Anything can happen on stag/hen night in Las Vegas. (Sequel to Friendly Fire.)
Warning: I know I've been teetering on the edge, but I think this story is now fully in the realm of "Bizzaro AU Harry Potter" fanfic.
Ron Weasley was in love. Well, perhaps love was a bit strong. But the lithe "dancer" twirling (and bucking and undulating and um, doing a few other, "acrobatic" moves) in front of him certainly had his attention. Ooooh yeah, his full attention.
He was grinning from ear-to-ear, as if the Chudley Cannons had just won the Quidditch Cup (with him as keeper) and he'd just received a lifetime supply of Cauldron Cakes.
"Do you think his face could get stuck like that?" asked Fred in mock concern.
George studied his younger brother for a moment. "Would be a crying shame. The poor lad isn't exactly charming the knickers off the ladies now. I imagine they'll think he's daft."
"Pity he didn't take after us in the looks department," noted Fred.
"Not to mention personality," offered George.
"Or modesty," Hermione observed.
"It's tragic," the twins said in unison.
Ron gave his brothers a dirty look then brought his rapt attention back to the "entertainment."
They were on the first stop of the promised "Night 'o Debauchery," at a venue called Cheetahs which didn't have much in the way of speedy felines or clothing. In fact, Hermione--surrounded by her wizard friends--was the only fully dressed female on the premises. While she wasn't exactly comfortable leading the entourage on its tour of Vegas flesh, she didn't have much choice. She was the best man, after all. And what other kind of stag party could she possibly orchestrate in Vegas?
Of course she'd tried to wheedle the boys into activities that were more "wholesome," yet fun. Unfortunately, Mitchell Bulstrode wasn't all that keen on a journey through Siegfried and Roy's Secret Garden followed by Carrot Top's one-man show.
"In case you hadn't noticed," he told her. "I'm a bloke now. And that means I want a stag party, not high tea. A filthy, raunchy, arse over tit, can't remember my bloody name night on the Strip with my best mates." He'd looked quite affronted, then added. "And I refuse to see any performer who is named after a vegetable and looks like a Weasley on crack."
Well then, just as long as he was being clear.
While Hermione was hanging in silicone-implant alley, Draco wasn't faring much better. It was a bit disconcerting to be surrounded by hundreds of women with not one of them even bothering to glance his way. They were too distracted by "Rodney the Rod" who was currently flexing his arse-cheeks to the beat of "Another One Bites the Dust."
Draco ran his fingers through his silky blond locks. Why me? Why? Like Hermione, he'd tried to steer the witches away from the sort of night that entailed ogling men in thongs. Like Hermione, he'd failed miserably.
"Celine Dion?" Pansy had asked incredulously. "Why don't you suggest that Barry Manilow bloke while you're at it and we can do the 'easy-listening' hen party." (It's important to note that "easy-listening" muggle artists had become very popular among wizards. Or, it could be the author was just looking for an excuse to throw in cheesy Vegas headliner jokes.)
"I thought witches loved that heart-will-not-die dreck," he grumbled.
"No way, Draco. I'm a pureblooded bitch of a witch and I want big strapping muggle studs, lewd behavior and plenty of booze," she demanded.
Draco had put his hands up in defeat. He'd thought offering the Canadian songstress as an option was sacrifice enough. It's not like he wanted to pay to hear her shriek. But anything would have been better than to suffer this humiliation.
He glanced up as the women around him broke out in rousing applause, managing to catch the eye of "Rod" who winked lasciviously at him. Gulp. "Pans, I think we should head to the next club," he squeaked.
But she didn't' hear him. Too busy stuffing dollars in Rod's…well, let's just say Draco was going to have nightmares for a long time. "I need another drink."
The "talent" at Cheetahs who had so enthralled Ron was currently taking a break. Having noticed the perma-grin on the redhead's face during her "performance" she was trying to coax him and the others into the back room for VIP lap dances.
Crabbe and Goyle were particularly intrigued by this idea. "So you're saying you'll be totally starkers and you'll writhe on our laps for 20 minutes, but we can't touch you?" asked Goyle, his voice filled with awe.
The thing is, wizards did have strip clubs, but they were rather tame. In general, Wizard society was far more conservative than the Muggle world. For most of them, it was their first visit to any kind of nudie club. And a muggle one in the land of sin was radically different than anything the pureblooded contingency had ever experienced.
"So how much does it cost?" asked Ron, who looked like he'd pay anything and give away his first born in the process.
"A hundred each," she said, pouting her lips seductively. Then she said in a lower voice, "I'll throw in blow jobs for an extra fifty each. But no cumming on my face." She noticed Hermione up at the bar and added, "If your friend joins us, I'll knock off a couple hundred from the total."
Ron was drooling so much he needed a bib, while Crabbe had a pained expression on his face as if he was trying to calculate the total between the four of them (a blushing Neville Longbottom had also been dragged into the "negotiations"). Goyle just stared dully at the woman—and not at her eyes.
"Neville, I think you should ask Hermione," suggested Ron.
"Are you mental? You want her to go back there with us?"
"It's a good deal," he said, as if Hermione accompanying them to the back room of a strip joint and watching them get lap dances and blow jobs was the most normal thing on the planet.
The stripper—her name was Amber Star—appraised them each then said, "I'll go ask her. Be right back, boys."
At that moment Hermione was returning from the bar to the table she was sharing with the twins, Harry and Mitchell, unaware that she had become a bargaining chip. Amber sauntered up to her, smiling broadly, "I like nice tits, I always have, how about you?" she asked cheerfully. 1
"Um…what?" Hermione stammered.
Amber looked her up and down. "You know, you have fantastic tits. Where did you get them?"
At this point all of the wizards were listening intently. It had dawned on the more observant members of the group that the two women looked remarkably alike. Amber was Hermione's tarty doppelganger.
Hermione's complexion had turned a lovely shade of pink. She leaned in and said quietly to the other woman, "If you must know, I'm fanon Hermione. I have the best tits ever." Then she said more loudly in her trademark bossy tone, "I'm really not going to discuss my, my womanly attributes with you!"
Amber nodded. "No problem, sugar. Wanna join us in the back for a lap dance?"
"Go for it, Hermione," piped in Mitchell, who looked highly amused. "You promised to go all out for my stag party. Now get in there and get dirty!"
She shot him a glare. Before she could say anything Amber squealed with delight, "You're getting married? You should have said something. We're having a bachelor party special this week! I'll just need $500 total, though that doesn't include sucking anybody off. Though I'm willing to throw in a muff dive for your gal here."
Mitchell, who had chosen that moment to take a sip from his drink, spit it out all over Fred who had the misfortune of being in the line of fire.
"Bugger me!" he shouted.
Mitchell ignored the swearing Weasley and spoke to Amber. "That won't be necessary," he said quickly. Ron looked forlorn and he continued, "what you do on your own is your business, mate, but Pansy and I had a deal: look don't touch."
"Works for me," said Harry. "Ginny would hex me within an inch of my life if she found out I'd done more than watch."
"Do we have a deal then?" Amber asked.
Mitchell stood up, "I believe we do."
Rather than being shocked at Amber's sexual offer, Hermione found herself intrigued. She'd been studying the stripper more closely. Beneath the layers of make-up and the slag attitude lurked a shrewd businesswoman. The witch guessed that there was no such thing as "specials" for stag parties since probably 80 percent of the club's business was about-to-be-wed benders. It was just a clever tactic to get large parties to shell out more cash.
As the others started to file away, Amber sidled up to her. "You going to join us, honey?"
She smiled genuinely, "No thanks, but I appreciate the, um, offer. I need to get some air."
"That's too bad," she said sincerely. Then she turned to Fred, who was still wiping rum and coke off his shirt and hadn't moved to head to the private room with the others. "What about you, sexy? Coming to the party with me or you're gonna stay out here with your girlfriend?
While offers of oral sex hadn't managed to faze Hermione—well, not much, since she was in Vegas—that last comment had her reeling, "Oh no he's not my... My boyfriend's not here, he's out with the witches, eh, I mean bitches!" Right, that sounded reasonable, she thought.
"Well, he's not denying it," the stripper said slyly. She grabbed Hermione gently by the arm and leaned in. "I see plenty when I'm onstage, darling, and he may not be your man, but he wants to be. He barely looked at me," she sounded on the edge of being insulted as she explained, "he only had eyes for you."
"I, well I. No, that's not possible," she said. But then Hermione thought back on the last few months and how Fred had acted toward her. She'd protested vehemently to Draco whenever he dared to suggest that her old flame was feeling a new fire for her. But hearing an outsider suggest it suddenly opened her eyes to the truth. "Bleeding hell," she muttered.
"Oh it's not that bad," said Amber. "He's a fucking hottie. I'd do the both of you for free."
Hermione must have been getting used to the woman's bluntness. "You should see the maid of honor." Amber looked confused for a second, so she clarified, "It's a rather non-traditional wedding party. I'm the best man and my boyfriend is the maid of honor."
Amber laughed, "Shit, if he's as cute as this one bring him along. We'll party."
Fred tried not to look obvious as he attempted to listen in. Based on Hermione's blush, he figured she was talking about him. He wasn't complaining. The "boyfriend" remark had given him a sense of hope.
When the two women broke apart he addressed Amber politely. "I'm sure you'll put on a smashing show, Miss Star, but I'm going to stay out here and make sure my, friend," he said firmly, "doesn't get accosted by some unsavory character."
"Maybe she wants to get accosted," she said with a tone of naked wisdom (pun intended). "Not that the whole "English Gentleman" thing doesn't make me want to ride you like a cowgirl, but sometimes a gal likes a man to throw her down on the floor and fuck her raw."
Both Hermione and Fred were rendered speechless. The woman was like a foul-mouthed philosopher. Just then Ron and George came back over (the others were hovering near the entrance to the VIP area) to see what was taking so long. "Are we all set?" asked Ron, obviously jumping out of his skin in anticipation of seeing more of Amber's skin.
"Yes, Fred, everything sorted?" George asked. He didn't try to hide the accusation in his voice.
"I'm going stay out here and make sure Hermione's alright. You blokes have a grand time," said Fred, failing to meet his twin's eyes.
Ron was oblivious to the personal drama surrounding him. "Are we all set?" he asked Amber eagerly.
"We sure are, red," she said, while admiring all three brothers. She linked arms with George and Ron and then blew Hermione and Fred air kisses. "We'll be a while, you kids have fun!" Then she slinked away with the two wizards—one grinning broadly, the other frowning with worry.
Hermione was gnawing at her lip anxiously, unable to look at Fred. "Well, I guess I'll step outside for a bit." Then she looked up at him, "You don't have to join me."
"I insist." He offered his arm and she took it somewhat reluctantly, and then they headed toward the exit.
Draco had finally figured out how to survive a hen party: get completely trashed. Somewhere in the back of his mind there was the gnawing memory that he and Hermione had agreed to stay sober in order to ensure their plan went off without a hitch…but at this point that thought was obliterated.
Which might explain why in the same moment that Ron was being made the happiest wizard ever, (though let me assure the reader, there was no exchange of bodily fluids—at least not while he was surrounded by all of his pals) and Fred stood next to Hermione in the warm Vegas night, working up the courage to tell her how he felt, Draco was jumping around in a completely undignified, un-Malfoy-like manner.
It's very likely Lucius Malfoy was spinning wildly in his grave, though not as wildly as his only son and heir. His blond hair drenched with sweat, Draco was dancing up a storm surrounded by witches, muggle women and half-naked men, singing "Its Raining Men" at the top of his lungs.
"Hallelujah!" he screamed on cue and threw his hands in the air (like he just didn't care). Misty, a pretty muggle who happened to be the maid of honor in her respective bachelorette party, had made her fist into a "microphone" and she and Draco were sharing it and bonding as they drunkenly swayed together. The fun had started earlier, when she'd let him in on her "Bridal Tasks," a list of embarrassing and bawdy "goals" the bride had to complete over the course of the night. Already, the unlikely duo had coerced their respective brides into licking a bald man's head and doing a body shot with one of the male exotic dancers.
He would have continued to boogie oogie oogie the night away if it wasn't for the sudden need to use the loo--badly. Too drunk to bother excusing himself, he stumbled off the dance floor. Unfortunately, his blurry brain couldn't recall where the john was located and instead of going in the right direction, he accidentally walked out of the club and into the casino.
Alright, he thought frantically, must be one around here somewhere. Indeed there was, but rather than heading toward it, he began to rush the opposite way.
A few minutes later he was so desperate he was ready to piss on the plush gaudy carpet. And then he spotted it, like a beacon of beautiful light, the door to his salvation.
"Yes!" He ran toward it with abandon, smashing through to the other side. He pulled up to the urinal just in time, sighing blissfully as he emptied his full bladder. "Ahhhh."
He was in such a peaceful state--content as a babe in his mother's arms--that he didn't notice there was another man in the bathroom who was watching him. No, not watching, staring. You see, Draco was so plastered beyond reason that he started to perform wandless magic without thinking. He was humming absentmindedly (a tune which sounded a bit like "Its Raining Men") as he slid gracelessly to the sink, which he turned on from several meters away. At the same time he started to fix his hair, his small comb magically performing the task for him as he washed his hands and summoned a piece of paper towel.
By the time he realized he wasn't alone, the other man was down on his knees, looking up at Draco like he was some kind of god.
"It's you," the man exclaimed, his eyes glassy in the presence of divinity. "I knew you'd come!"
Now, under normal circumstances Draco would have thought the man daft, but in his inebriated state the muggle man groveling at his feet brought back a rush of his old pureblood arrogance. "That's right, muggle," he slurred. "It's good some of you know your place."
The man looked confused, but then he jumped to his feet so fast, grinning madly, that the wizard took a step backward. "Yes! You probably know that I'm clear, sir! I've achieved operating thetan level seven!" While still heavily under the influence of the alcohol, Draco was beginning to get creeped out by the muggle. And that toothy crazed smile, where had he seen it before? 2
"Well, that's very interesting muggle, but I've got to get back to the Chippendales club," he said nervously.
The man grasped his arm. Even though he'd used magic a second before, for some reason the man's demented glare froze him in his tracks. "Sir," the man said excitedly, "The others will want to meet you!"
"Yeah, that's fanbloodytastic but I really should be..."
"No!" he protested. "If you come sir, I assure you that you'll be fully honored and presented with gifts and offerings."
Hmm, Draco thought. This guy was obviously barmy, but it could be interesting. And what Malfoy would turn down an opportunity to be lavished with "gifts and offerings?"
"Alright, if you put it that way," he said, then wondered if this was how Voldemort had gotten his start--some half-backed nutter in a loo thinking he was a god. "Lead the way, peon."
Hermione felt Fred's eyes on her as she gazed at the bright lights of the Vegas night. Say something already, she chided herself.
"Look Fred..."
"Look Hermione..."
They had spoken simultaneously. He laughed, "Oi, that can't be good. Think maybe we're actually triplets separated at birth?"
She snorted, "Not bloody likely!"
"Hey, don't insult me and my brother!" But there was mirth in his voice and Hermione was glad to hear it. "Being one of the Weasley Triplets would be a great honor."
Hermione beamed at him, "Yes, of course. And very dignified!" Her eyes were lit from within and in that moment Fred thought Vegas had nothing on her.
"You're so beautiful, Hermione."
Her skin became flushed with color, "Fred..."
"Please, just let me get this out and done with," he said, then took a couple of deep breaths. "Right. So I was saying..."
"You think I'm beautiful?"
"Gods, you're the most beautiful witch I know. You're brilliant, you've got a wicked sense of humor. And I can't believe what an unbelievable arse I was to not only let you go all those years ago, but to never fully acknowledge our relationship to Ron, to my family, to your family."
"Fred, you don't have to say all that, we were both so much younger," she said.
"Maybe," he said. "But I still should have known better. George knew and he told me I was a bloody wanker back then."
Hermione was looking around at anything but Fred. She cared so much for him. Could she love him? There was no doubt he was a great guy. Decent, funny, intelligent. But wasn't Draco all those things? And they were together now. Fred was the past and Draco was her future, she told herself. Right?
"Listen, Hermione," he said, taking hold of her hand. When she didn't pull it away he felt encouraged to go on. "I know my timing is shite. I'm not asking you to end things with Malfoy. I'm just...well, telling you that if things don't work out..." Then he seemed to reconsider his words and amended, "Not that I don't want things to work out for you two." He squeezed her hand and then dropped it stepping away. "Oh, who am I fooling?"
Her heart lept out to him. She could love him, she was sure of it. But it felt like it was too late. She felt the impulse to reach for him and she cursed her confused emotions. She was certain that Draco was the man she loved. So she didn't understand why her long ago lover could still make her ache. Maybe, she thought wistfully, once we cross that line with someone we can never really go back.
Fred turned around to face her again. "Look, I'm just going to lay it all out on the table. I'm in love with you."
She clutched at her chest, "Oh Fred."
"Yeah, I know." Then he took a few steps toward her and placed his hand under her chin. "I do want you to be happy, Hermione. And if that means Malfoy, then I'll deal with it. But I had to let you know how I felt. I didn't want to regret keeping it in a second time."
"Fred you didn't hold it in back then, you told me," she said.
"I may have spoken the words, but I never showed you. I pushed you away like you'd always be there for me when I was ready to grow up," he admitted.
A few stray tears fell from Hermione's brown eyes and Fred wiped them away. Then he leaned in and very gently touched his lips to hers, like the ghost of a feather, then pulled away.
"We should go back inside, see if the others are ready to move on to the next 'Vegas hot spot,'" his voice was playful again, but he couldn't mask the fear he felt for laying his heart on the line, despite his chances. The thought cracked him up.
"What's so funny?" Hermione asked, confused by his sudden shift from somber to hysterical.
"Nothing really. I was just thinking how I'd taken a chance tonight, despite the odds. Then I remembered where we are," he smiled broadly again and it warmed her. "That's what you do in Vegas, baby! Gamble." 3
It would be safe to say that gambling was just what Draco was doing when he agreed to follow a crazy muggle he met in the washroom of a Las Vegas casino. And now that he was at the batty bugger's "meeting," he was sobering up and starting to regret his decision.
There were about thirty muggles in the conference room he'd been led to. They were all looking at him with that same whacked out worshipfulness of the loo loon, who was speaking to the group. "And then he moved the elements, man!" The guy hopped up on a chair and pumped his fist, as if climbing furniture and making wild hand gestures would fully demonstrate the significance of Draco's ability to make bathroom tissues float.
"Listen, I don't know what you muggles are on about, but I really can't be arsed, I've got to get back to my mates..."
"What's a muggle, Tom? Why does he keep calling us that?" asked one of the men gathered in the room. Draco gaped at the tall guy with dark hair and piercing blue eyes. Just like that Tom character he looked so familiar. It was just out of his grasp.
"I don't know, John," he said. Then his eyes burrowed into Draco, "But I'll tell you this, he's the man. I can feel it in his energy, his vibe is electric. Woo!" And just to emphasize the point, he threw his fist in the air again, like his team had just scored the winning goal.
The gesture brought back a memory to Draco and in that moment the alcoholic haze lifted and he knew exactly who the two muggles were. "For fucks sake, you're those actors." And then he looked around at the room. On the wall behind him there was a huge poster of another muggle. He suddenly remembered a program he'd watched on muggle television with Hermione and it all clicked into place. "Well, then," he started. "It was really a thrill to meet you all, but like I said, gotta run!"
They looked at him blankly, then Tom dropped to his knees again and pleaded, "Don't go, we've been waiting for the sign, we fear Xenu will rise again!" 4
"Right," Draco, said. He walked carefully around the extremely famous muggle (and the author isn't going to tell you who, but if you can't tell you've obviously never watched "Oprah" or read Us Weekly. "It's been a pleasure."
Draco started toward the door, but several of the larger muggles moved in front of it to block his exit. He clutched his wand in his pocket. May as well use it, he thought. These tossers already think I'm some kind of god-like being. And well, they are right about that. He had a self-satisfied smirk on his face as he took out his wand.
But before he could use it there were several loud cracks of Apparation in the room. Draco was almost as stunned as the muggles (he blamed it on the liquor) as five black-clad wizards appeared out of thin air.
One of them, a tall blond-haired man who had the presence of a commander, surveyed the situation with a scowl on his face. He was looking at the cowering muggles with supreme annoyance in his eyes."Why does this happen every fucking time you people hold a meeting here?" And then the obliviate charms flew.
Another wizard, a solid looking bald man with dark shades on (even though he was indoors and it was nighttime), approached Draco. "You alright man?"
Draco shook his head to clear the lingering fog. It took several moments for his brain to register that like those famous muggles Tom and John, the wizard talking to him also looked extremely familiar. "Do I know you?"
"You may recognize me from some muggle movies I've been in. I like to play on both sides of the muggle/wizard fence, keeps things interesting," he put his hand out to Draco, who took it. "Muggles know me as...
"Vin Diesel," Draco said as they shook hands, "I'm Draco Malfoy." The Weaslette had mentioned meeting the actor (she was very exuberant when she described the run in, much to Potter's chagrin).
Vin seemed surprised and had obviously recognized the Malfoy name, "Wow, most wizards don't recognize me, especially the purebloods," he said, a note of pride in his voice over the fact that Draco had. "My given name is Vincent Dinglebat."
Draco's blood-shot eyes widened, "Of the Chicago Dinglebats?"
"I grew up in Wizard New York, but yeah, my Great Grandfather was Dicky the Dick Dinglebat. I'm muggle on my mom's side."
The wizard leader walked up to them, still obviously perturbed by the situation. "Everything in order now here?" he asked Vin.
"Yes, sir," he answered. "I can escort Mr. Malfoy here back to the Wizard sector."
"No, that won't be necessary," Draco jumped in. He thought about trying to explain that he was out with a group of witches for hen night, but then realized he didn't want to deal with further embarrassment. "My friends will be looking for me, I need to get back to them."
"Well, I should take you to them," offered Vin. "You've had a real shock tonight, man."
"No, I'm fine, really," he protested. But the two wizard's exchanged a quick glance and Draco knew they didn't buy it.
The blond guy ignored Draco and spoke to Vin, "Make sure he gets back to his buddies alright." Then he turned to Draco, "And when you do get back to your friends do me a favor and stay put. You can't wave your fucking wand around in a muggle city. And tell your friends the same." With a pop, the irate wizard was gone.
Vin shrugged his shoulders, "Sorry about that, man. It's the season so we have to go out on calls like this almost nightly. Ever since Vegas became popular with wizards its been a real zoo. Course, since the muggles are usually just as ripped we don't always need to perform obliviates, they just chalk it up to being drunk most of the time."
"Why in Merlin's name are you doing this anway?" Draco asked.
"I like to give back a bit to the Wizard community. I consider it my charity work," he explained. "Plus, I've got some wild stories."
Draco groaned inwardly at the fact that he'd just added to the collection. "This has got to be the oddest bleeding night of my life," he said.
Vin smirked at him. "It's not over yet."
TBC...
End notes:
The title of this two-part chapter is inspired by the Marx Brother's film, "A Night at the Opera." -- I would never compare my comic abilities to the famous comedians, but their zany brand of chaotic humor is definitely an influence on this chapter.
1 The character of of "Amber Star" and her colorful dialog are inspired by the excessively bad movie "Showgirls."
2 Scientology terms: Clear and Operating Thetan Levels refers to the stages of advancement in Scientology. From Wikipedia: "The "Hidden Truth" about the nature of the universe is taught to only the most advanced Scientologists, those who have achieved the level "clear", in a series of courses known as the Advanced Levels. The contents of these courses are held in strict confidence within Scientology. They have never been published by the Church, except for use in highly secure areas. The most advanced of all are the eight Operating Thetan levels, which require the initiate to be thoroughly prepared. The highest level, OT VIII, is only disclosed at sea, on the Scientology cruise ship Freewinds."
3 A very similar line is spoken in the aforementioned "Showgirls"
4 Xenu, also from Wikipedia: "Among these advanced teachings (of Scientology), one episode that is revealed to those who reach OT level III has been widely remarked upon in the press: the story of Xenu, the galactic tyrant who first kidnapped certain individuals who were deemed "excess population" and loaded these individuals into space planes for transport to the site of extermination, the planet of Teegeeack (Earth)."
A few other thoughts. Yeah, I admit that this story has gone completely off the map, but I just felt like if they're in Vegas, may as well make it as insane as possible.
An added disclaimer: Given my references to several celebs (either explicitly by including Vin Diesel or implied heavily, in the case of "Tom" and "John") and my parody of Scientology, I just want to state for the record that I don't know any of these people and I'm not a Scientologist. None of the actions portrayed in here are real (I should hope not!)...This is all in the name of wacky fun.
One more A/N: Let me just state for the record, for those of you concerned, despite some dramatic tension with Fred, this IS Draco/Hermione and they will end up together in the end. She had feelings for him in the past and cares for him as a friend, so it is natural that she would feel upset or conflicted over his stated feelings. BUT THEY AREN'T GETTING TOGETHER AND ALL WILL END JUST PEACHY-KEEN. I have no desire to mislead any readers, just putting a little bit of conflict into what is otherwise total crackfic. Whatever angst is minimal and all will be sunshine, lolly-pops and Elvis in the end. If you've gotten this far, I hope you'll have some faith. If you can't do that then thanks for reading anyway and I'm sure you'll find plenty of other fics that will please you. No harm done. :)
Thanks for reading!