A/N: An early, long update! I was very excited to get this one out, and it shows.
"You really don't make life easy for yourself, do you?"
"What?" Marilyn looked to George in alarm as he sat down beside her at Gryffindor table for lunch "Why?"
Fred followed close behind his twin, sitting down on the other side of him, while Marilyn had already been sitting with Harry, Ron, and Hermione.
"Word is that you're going to the Yule Ball with Draco Malfoy."
"Oh for fuck's sake," she groaned.
"It's not true then?"
"Of course it's not true! Why would I do that?"
"I find myself asking that about you a lot these days," he sniffed teasingly.
She resisted the urge to mutter a 'same'.
"Malfoy wouldn't go about spreading that if he didn't think it might be true," Harry pointed out "He's a prick, and I don't doubt that he lies as easily as he breathes, but this one is too easily rumbled."
"Harry's right. He must be fairly certain that you'd go with him, or else he's setting himself up to look like a complete idiot if he ends up going without you."
"When he ends up going without me," Marilyn corrected, staring down at her plate "He's probably hoping that if he spreads the word enough that it's happening, I'd be too scared to turn him down - or too polite, I don't know."
"Merlin, he's never met you then," George muttered.
Marilyn gave him an unamused look that seemed to have very little effect.
"The only way to handle this now is for you to tell him the truth, but you need to be careful about how you do it. Very careful," Hermione said quietly "It's going to be bad, but it'll be terrible if he finds out from anybody except you. If you don't take the initiative in how he finds out. Wait until he asks you - time is running out, so he'll have to do it soon - and then…oh, I don't know, act all confused and ask if he knows you're a Muggle-born. Pretend that it never occurred to you until then that he mightn't know, and that you're telling him then because you know he wouldn't sully his high and mighty reputation by being seen attending the dance with you."
"He won't believe it. I've had too many chances to tell him."
"And you dug yourself into this by not taking those chances," Fred pointed out.
"I can't argue with that," Marilyn sighed.
That, at least, earned her some begrudging support. Maybe they were just relieved to find she wasn't stupid and in denial about said stupidity.
"What's the alternative?" Hermione asked "Supposing you don't actually intend to go with him-"
"I don't."
"The only other excuse you can give is that you already have a date. It solves the problem in the short term, but even if you acquire a date solely to hold up the facade, it'll only make him more angry. Immediately after because of the rejection, and then it'll increase his rage tenfold, too, when he finds out the truth - because of the fact that he'll then have to face that he was angry over being rejected by a being as inferior as we are."
Marilyn blinked at her in surprise for a few moments "You have a shining future in psychology, you know that?"
"He's just alarmingly easy to read," Hermione waved off the compliment.
Marilyn nodded slowly. She would do that then. It was a good plan - a fantastic one, really. The results wouldn't be pretty, especially not after the kiss. And thank god none here knew of the kiss, for they'd probably abandon helping her devise a plan and instead begin building her coffin instead. Still, it was the only way she could approach this while having some semblance of the upper hand. The only way out now that didn't leave her looking like some mad bint who'd done her best to masterplan her way into his pants before embarrassing him over how he'd sullied himself with her.
"Who are you going with, then? Anybody we know?" Fred cut in "You can't just go alone, it's too sad."
"Nobody, it would be too awkward. I don't want to spend the whole night making awkward small-talk with somebody I barely know, while they wonder where they should put their hands."
"I bet they would," Fred snorted.
"Oh my god," she groaned "What about you? Who are you going with?"
"I'm going with Angelina Johnson, Hermione is going with some mystery man that she refuses to tell any of us about - who may or may not exist, for that matter…"
Hermione joined Marilyn in making noises of general annoyance and disgust, but remained resolute in her insistence when it came to not saying a word.
"Harry and Ron are floundering," Fred continued, unperturbed "Perhaps secretly hoping that you'll take pity on one of them."
"That's not what I'm doing," Harry cut in archly at the same time Ron exclaimed "Will you shut up? I don't need my big brother to get me a date."
"Not even I can help at this point, my boy, you're a lost cause," Fred sighed with a great deal of mock sorrow.
"And you?" Marilyn raised her eyebrows at George.
"I am taking my time. Weighing up the pros and cons. Making a list or two, you know?"
"None of that sounds like you at all," she said flatly.
"I've told him to hurry up or else all the good ones will be gone," Fred shrugged.
"And who exactly are the bad ones?" Marilyn challenged, sharing an eye-roll with Hermione.
"Oh, don't worry, you're not among them," Fred shrugged.
"Well, George, by the sounds of it Pansy Parkinson's free. Have at it," Harry snorted.
Marilyn might've found that funnier had it not been punctuated with a suspicious look directed towards her.
"Mm. Rather not," George made a face.
"Well, as thrilling as it is to find out where I stand in this charming little hierarchy of yours, I'm going to leave you to it."
"Practise?"
"Mm. I have a free period after this, so I might as well."
"I've got Potions, I'll walk you down," George shrugged, standing.
"She doesn't know you don't take Potions, then?" Ron muttered, earning a sandwich thrown directly at his face by Fred.
Marilyn carefully chose not to comment on that, stepping away from the table and taking up her bag, waiting as George followed suit. As he collected his things, she changed a glance towards the Slytherin table and found Draco watching the two of them, lips pressed into a thin line. If she expected him to quickly look away when caught staring, she'd have been disappointed - instead he fixed her with a pointed look, and then his nose wrinkled in disapproval before her turned his attention back to her, pale eyebrows rising with a silent question that seemed to say little more than 'really?'.
It was a question she had no intention of answering. Looking away, she rolled her eyes and began to lead the way out of the Great Hall. It was a beautiful day - bright and sunny but bitingly cold thanks to the Scottish winter. It was nice. It would've been nicer, had she not felt like it was mocking her.
"So why is Malfoy saying this now?" George pressed immediately once they left the din of the hall behind.
"I don't know," she lied.
"Liar."
"George."
"Something's happened. I can see it all over your face. It's in your eyes, you see."
"Alright, Lionel Richie, calm down," she scoffed.
"You're still not answering me," he was unbothered by the Muggle reference she was near enough certain he hadn't understood.
"We kissed."
"We did not, I'd remember if we had. Probably."
"Not me and you, me and that git."
"You didn't," George snickered, which took just a bit of the edge out of the judgement "Oh Marilyn, tell me you didn't."
"Shut up."
"You really don't make life easy for yourself, do you? Merlin's balls, girl. Are you mad? Have you actually lost your mind? Are you actually one of those Muggle-borns with some weird self-hating complex after all?"
She had no intention of answering any of those questions.
"Wait - he kissed you, or you kissed him? Because one of those is definitely more stupid than the other. Although both are catastrophically bad, really."
That was another question she didn't want to answer, but she felt compelled to do so - if only to prove that what he probably thought wasn't true. That she hadn't been skulking around with some weird crush on Draco, despite how good looking he inarguably was, and despite how funny and clever he could be when he wasn't set upon being an absolute arsehole for the fun of it, that she wasn't cutting about Hogwarts with some stupid fairytale woven in her mind of how she might make him fall in love with her before unveiling the truth of her blood status, but how at that point it wouldn't matter because something something true love. Yes, she'd been stupid, but she wasn't that stupid.
"I don't know," she groaned "A bit of both, really. But only because he thought I wouldn't."
Any hope that such an argument might hold any ground was swiftly scuppered by George laughing loudly.
"Oh, I never thought I'd see the day where I'd say this, but that's because he probably should have been right."
"It was complicated."
"It's more complicated now."
"It was stupid."
"It's more stupid now."
"You're being less than helpful."
"At this point, Marilyn, I'm almost certain that you're beyond helping."
"Me too," she admitted flatly "I told him right after that it wasn't going to happen again, that we had to pretend it hadn't happened at all, and that it didn't mean anything."
"As if he's going to listen to any of that.
"I don't know why he'd go around saying this now. The Yule Ball wasn't even mentioned."
"Yeah, I mean it's not like you kissed him or anything. The nerve."
"If I could go back and not do it, I would - I mean, I wouldn't. I would go back in time, I wouldn't kiss him."
"I'm all out of time-turners, I'm afraid."
"Then what use are you?" She teased with a snort.
"Merlin, now you're starting to sound like him, too."
Marilyn huffed a laugh, shaking her head "This is going to end very, very badly."
"I mean…yeah," George replied frankly with a shrug "I'm not trying to be an arse, but I don't know what else you expected."
"I…I was trying not to make an enemy of him," she floundered "And in the end I've only gone and set myself up to make a real enemy out of him. He's going to find out the truth, it's not like it's a big secret."
"Probably," George agreed.
"And then he's going to be absolutely furious."
"Definitely."
"I just…I thought that if I kept him at arm's length enough, he'd get bored and piss off."
Okay, there'd also been a part of her that had very much hoped that she would get bored of him, too. That he'd grow to be so insufferable and his presence so unbearable that she'd eventually find it in her to flat out tell him to piss off. Instead, he'd proven…funny. Good company, even, in his own strange way. They just…they just meshed. It hadn't been how it was supposed to go. She was supposed to tolerate him until she could no longer do so. She was supposed to feel sick at the prospect of having kissed him, not left blushing and distracted by the fact that she had done.
George stifled a laugh, and that worried her because up until now he'd been content to laugh at her pretty openly.
"What?" She prodded as they began to make their way down the dungeon steps.
"If that's how you keep somebody at arm's length, I'd be floored to find out what you did if you liked them."
"I'm not sure I want to bloody find out at this point," she groaned, feeling her face blaze "Anyway, I think I know how I could help you."
The corridors were mostly empty, save for the few students who were incredibly anxious to get to their next class especially early. It seemed as good a place to talk about this as any.
"Oh, between the two of us you're the one who needs help right now," George replied.
"Yeah, but we've already concluded that I'm beyond helping. You, however, are not. Chloe."
"Chloe?"
"Yeah. She's hard work just as a…as a general human being, and she hates me which shows her appalling taste in people, but she's pretty and she hasn't got a date yet. She'd been holding out for a specific Durmstrang lad, but he's going with a Hogwarts girl now, so you can swoop in and mend her broken heart with your, uh, charm."
"Now, now, don't be cruel just because you're facing down pure and unfiltered Malfoy fury. This Chloe? She's the one that always wears her hat sort of tilted to the side?"
"Yeah. She thinks it looks fashionable."
She'd expected George to be intrigued by her little offering - instead he made a face and shrugged.
"Eh. I don't know."
"She's a Beauxbatons ballerina, you'd be the hero of all of your friends. I thought this was your not-so-noble goal. What's the problem?"
He made a show of considering the question for a few moments.
"The…the eyes, I think."
"Too many of them? Too few? What, you prefer girls with eyepatches?"
"Too few - which is a shame, because if it was too many it could always be fixed."
"I'm afraid we don't boast many ten-eyed women among our number."
"Oh? Damn. Shame, that."
"Yeah, we left those back in France. Didn't like to show off too much."
"We left our ten-legged students locked up in Trelawney's tower when you arrived for the same reason, funnily enough."
"That's a real shame, they could've joined the ballerinas and been pretty impressive."
"Do you have that many of those fancy shoes lying about to go around?"
"Hm. Good point. I suppose they need to stay locked away, then."
"It's for the best. Speaking of for the best, I have a proposition."
"No, I don't intend to make a habit of kissing boys in abandoned dungeon classrooms."
"Just the girls, then?"
"Eh. Hermione already turned me down."
"Probably doesn't want to play second fiddle to Malfoy."
"This proposition? Quickly? Before I lose my mind?"
"This little practise session isn't scheduled, is it? No teacher?"
"Just for fun."
"Your very sad idea of fun aside, how about we use that room and I show you some of the most frowned upon jinxes around these parts? For when your great war against the Pure-blood wrath begins."
Ordinarily it would've been an instant no. Anything that took any sort of time away from dancing was an instant no, really. But she was only planning on dancing as a distraction, and this sounded like an even better distraction. Plus, if she did learn something new she might be glad of it if Draco did pop the dreaded question tonight. She'd just have to be sure to have her wand at hand when he showed up.
"We could, but don't you have Potions to get to?"
"Eh, Snape would probably prefer it if I didn't turn up anyway," he shrugged.
"Because you're not in his NEWT level class?" Marilyn ventured drily.
George offered a cheeky grin "Maybe. Now don't be rude, or I won't teach you any of my very exciting jinxes."
Pansy Parkinson was not happy. Pansy Parkinson had not been happy since the moment Marilyn Baxter twirled her way into Hogwarts and promptly decided that she owned the place.
"Okay, she's kind of pretty if you're into that sort of thing - but any girl is pretty when she'd blonde and skinny, it's hardly revolutionary," she rolled her eyes "But it doesn't matter, because have you heard what she sounds like when she opens her mouth? She's common as muck, it's embarrassing that he'd even be seen anywhere near her, nevermind these stupid rumours. I bet she started them."
Neither Crabbe nor Goyle seemed particularly interested in what she was saying, but she didn't care. They weren't interested in anything anybody was saying so long as there was a plate of food in front of them, and it wasn't their opinions she needed, she just needed to vent and empty vessels were rather good at that.
"Trust me, Pans," Goyle snorted "He doesn't care what she sounds like so long as she can put her ankles up by her ears."
Pansy sneered "Anybody can do that."
"No," he shrugged in disagreement, considering the chicken leg he was in the process of demolishing "They can't."
"It wasn't her that started the rumour, either," Crabbe added "Think it was Nott. He overheard Malfoy tell Zabini that they snogged last night in that practise room the ballet girls use. Won't be long now before he asks her."
"They what?" Pansy demanded.
Crabbe shrugged, and Goyle glared at him - probably because he'd told her. Draco wouldn't be happy with them if it got out that they'd been blabbing about his affairs, but Pansy didn't care.
"This is ridiculous! She's not even one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight! For all we know she's a halfer! A mutt! And he's doing this - what? Why? So when the school year ends he can never see her again? Does he think his parents would welcome her sort to their balls and their garden parties? It's absurd! It's sick! If he thinks he can come crawling back to me when she's gone and that I'll just welcome him with open arms after having to witness this sick little display, he has another thing coming."
The two boys shared a look that spoke volumes over how little they believed her.
"Don't think he's the crawling type," Goyle said finally.
But they had to say that, they were his friends. And maybe they had a point - maybe she would forgive him, because what they had was too important for her to end it all after one silly little spat, one moment of very boyish stupidity, but he would have to grovel. He would have to…to prove to her that he truly had seen the error of his ways.
"He'll realise soon enough. He'll apologise. He'll be dying to spend time with somebody who can carry a conversation and share the same proper values," she sniffed.
"Not sure he's the apologising type, either," Crabbe snorted.
Huffing, Pansy shot to her feet, snatched up her bag, and began to march out of the hall.
"Coucou - Slytherin girl! Hello? You! Fourth year!"
The voice followed her out of the great double doors and into the corridor outside, growing louder and more impossible to ignore when it was no longer drowned out by the noise of the other students at lunch. Grinding to a halt, she pressed her lips together in a thin line and spun slowly to scowl at the Beauxbatons girl who had followed her out here. She was one of the ballet girls - making her one of the last people Pansy wanted to deal with in that moment.
"You were talking about Marilyn Baxter, yes? I could not help but overhear," she glanced around before she continued "You were confused about her blood status, by the sounds of things."
"What's it to you?"
The girl grinned, tilting her head which only made the slight angle that she wore her hat at appear all the more ridiculous.
"It's nothing to me," she raised her arms in a wide shrug "But it seems like it matters to you, so I thought I would share - ease your curiosity, non?"
"Get to the point," Pansy rolled her eyes.
So what, had she been wrong? Was the Baxter girl pure of blood after all? Either way, she definitely wasn't one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Pansy knew that, so her point still stood.
"Marilyn is a Muggle-born, little snake," the girl offered her an amused half-smile, already turning her back to her and walking away "Have a nice day."
Pansy remained standing there in the hallway for a moment, dumbstruck over what she'd just heard. Surely not — surely it couldn't be. It couldn't be that easy. It couldn't be that hysterical. Oh, she was certain she'd have a nice day indeed.
A/N: All of my French phrases come from googling, which means any actual speakers will probably be wincing over my uses here. I do apologise if that's the case!
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