Author's Note: So firstly, I know. It's been eons, right? But it was really bothering me that I left this unfinished for this long. And then I re-read it and I didn't like it so much, so I decided to overhaul it and do a massive re-write with intent to actually finish.
A Many Splendored Thing Chapter 1: A Few Reservations"I need to place a reservation on Friday for twenty," Ginny Weasley asked the receptionist at Prego, a small Italian restaurant in Diagon Alley. She tried not to smile as she watched the woman suppress a look of abject horror. Restaurants across the city had had the pleasure of trying to accommodate a Weasley family event; it was precisely that this one had not that she had chosen it.
"Twenty. On Friday. This Friday?" Clearly she hoped for a loophole.
"Yes. Twenty, for this Friday. It's a wedding dinner," she explained. It was only Monday, the request wasn't that unreasonable.
"Twenty for Friday. Under what name?" Ginny's neutral smile tightened.
"Weasley." She waited for the look of recognition to flash across the receptionist's face, and the latter didn't disappoint.
"Aren't you…" she started, suddenly animated.
"Yes, I'm Ginny."
"I heard about that! Shocking, really. It's always the ones you least suspect."
"I suppose so," responded Ginny neutrally. "If that's all then, we'll be back on Friday. Thanks for accommodating such a large party short notice." She flashed a curt smile, turning and heading quickly out of the restaurant.
Anybody watching her walk out of the restaurant wouldn't've seen how shaken she was on her face, and that was the way Ginny had trained herself to react. It would be different, she supposed, if she were ever recognized for something else. She had worked from just out of Hogwarts until the previous year for Witch Weekly, ultimately ending up as the chief fashion editor. Since then she'd had a fledgling but not altogether unsuccessful career in design, and if her name were recognizable as a result of either of these ventures, she would have had no problem with the recognition. But as everyone knows, what we wish for is often not the case, and Ginny's was no exception to the rule. Get used to it, remarked a snide voice in the back of her mind. Welcome to your life.
With a small pop, she arrived back in the living room of the Weasley household only to find Ron and Hermione at one another's throats for the third time this week.
"I'm telling you, Hermione, this is a good band!"
"Absolutely not. Muggles playing bagpipes will be making no appearances at my wedding."
"It's my wedding as well, in case you've forgotten!"
"I put you in charge of one thing, but putting you in charge is not synonymous with 'extended the right to ruin'!" The two continued on in this manner for several more minutes, moving on from an argument over the music to the reception venue to the groomsmen's boutonniere colors before noticing Ginny was even in the room.
"Ginny! When did you get here?" Asked Ron suddenly, only noticing Ginny when she grabbed an apple from a bowl on the kitchen table.
"Ten minutes ago. We're set for Prego on Friday night. Eight for twenty."
"Oh you're a lifesaver. Thank you! Any problems?" Asked Hermione.
"No, none," replied Ginny, intently studying her apple for defects to avoid revealing anything in her face. "Anything I can help with?" She asked after a moment. "I have the afternoon off." Ron and Hermione exchanged sidelong glances, but kept quiet.
"Well, since you're here you can help me finalize the seating charts," offered Hermione, shooting another look at Ron.
"I'll be back in a bit, I'll leave you ladies to it." His sudden exit and Hermione's erratic behavior signaled something, clearly, but Ginny would leave them to reveal it at their leisure.
"Alright. What really happened this afternoon?" Hermione was far to perceptive to ever let anything slide, but Ginny kept vainly hoping.
"Nothing." A pointed look made it clear she wouldn't get off that easily. "Alright. The receptionist had heard, but it's fine. I mean, people will know. I don't care." The conviction of her last sentence was lacking, and Ginny struggled to keep her face in the same placid mask. Hermione's expression softened.
"Look, Ginny… I know it's hard, but you don't have to pretend you're fine all the time. Not around us. It's only been three weeks, you have time"
"It doesn't matter!" She insisted, though a crack in her voice betrayed her. She picked furiously at her nails, blinking back the tears collecting in her eyes. Hermione looked towards her, as though to say something, but ultimately decided against it and turned to the seating charts.
It was just as well, thought Ginny. Evidently she had been wrong in thinking she was cried out, but what else was there left to say? The story was straightforward, but it didn't change the fact, it didn't make recovering from it any easier. Suddenly a voice outsight caught her attention. Hermione looked up in alarm.
"Ginny, by the way, I meant to – " but the redhead never heard the end of her friend's statement. The voice outside made it's way into the kitchen, accompanied by an awkward-looking Ron.
To the wizarding world, Harry Potter was a hero, the reason people slept soundly in their beds at night without fear. To her family, he was a second son, a Weasley in everything but name and hair-color. To Ron and Hermione, he was the best friend of twelve years.
To Ginny, however, he was none of these things. To her, Harry Potter was the only man that was never supposed to let her down, and the only one that entirely did. To her, Harry Potter was the ex-fiancé who'd slept with someone else and gotten caught.