It's been a rough week, you guys. My boyfriend's grandpa died while we were on vacation and we've got another funeral this weekend. I've already had this one in the works, so I'm posting regardless, but any kind words at the moment would be so appreciated. I need a spirit lifter.

I also am going to be honest here that I have so many fanfiction ideas running rampant in my head right now LOL. This story and otherwise. I've got ideas to finish the Fred/OC story waiting on my page. And another for a marriage law fic between George and Hermione. I loved those back when I read Fanfics and I just need to try my hand at one, I can't help it. And about 100 oneshots that are running rampant in my head. I'm on a writing kick, but I don't want to start them all when I'm still working on this series in case I don't update as often.

It's driving me to insanity LOL.

Also, we're going with more romance for the next few chapters. Nessa needs a break from the anxious tornado she's in and so do I. I'm good at writing the angst and it's HP, so there's certainly enough to go around, but her anxiety — while an important quality in the story — does not define who she is. As a reminder to any of you who also struggle with anxiety (or any other mental illness), they don't define you either, even if they oftentimes feel like they might 3.

Stay strong, lovelies, and I'll see you next week.


Chapter Twenty Seven

It was hard to distance herself from the giddiness that was blossoming in her stomach. She knew she had a stupid grin on her face for the rest of the day because her face almost hurt by the time dinner had ended. The excitement for the ball was setting in now, and she was starting to feel as ridiculous as the other girls around her. It had been only hours since George had asked her to the ball with him, but every time he looked at her there was a horrible pressure in her throat from the giddy giggles that were threatening to bubble up.

This was not at all helped by his fixation on her. She found it particularly difficult to be away from him at the moment, a sudden surge in her desire to extend the happiness that was running rampant in every one of her limbs. It was like floating, except her heart was racing, and every brush of his hand across her cheek or brush of his lips against hers made her want to grin stupidly. And touching him — or having him touch her — was something she couldn't quite avoid the urge to do whenever he was close to her; twining her fingers with his, pulling her into his lap even when there was an open seat next to him, whispering to her without a regard for the other people around them. It was overwhelming and not enough all at once, and being away from him almost felt like torture, which was odd considering they saw each other every day.

She had no idea what had happened within that small time frame within the Great Hall, but there was something very…blissful about them now. He'd always been her safe space, and he certainly had made her happy before now, but there was something different about them now. A sort of calm and stable feeling that only amplified the giddiness in her chest and stomach.

She had no idea what the feeling was — the calm sort of reassuring giddiness, the exhilaration of being near him — and had no idea why it felt so different now. Perhaps it was relief that she was finally catching a break from the insanity of her life, that she'd caught up with her studies and Harry was not due to risk his life again for another few months. Maybe it was the excitement of the Yule Ball or the fact that she had someone — a very handsome, very popular someone — to go with her. It was odd to think about how much her life had changed within the last two years because she was certain that if the same event had happened at that stage of her life, she would be no closer to going with someone than she was of leaving Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Maybe it was that realization, that pride in her personal growth, that made her feel so happy.

She really didn't know at the moment, and she didn't have the time to think so hard about it because George was looking at her with that soft expression again — the one that made butterflies erupt in her stomach and sent her heart racing; the one that made her cheeks flush and a sort of panicked excitement course through her veins — and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She didn't know why he bothered — it kept falling out from behind it, but he seemed as content with touching her as she was with him, and she wasn't about to complain.

"If I'd known giving you flowers would make you so happy, I'd have done it ages ago," he said truthfully.

She knew he was teasing her a little, but she didn't particularly care. It was in his nature to do so, and his tone, though amused, was soft, thick with a sort of gentle adoration that he reserved only for her. And his observation wasn't far off. She'd been eyeing them lovingly, playing with the petals idly as she talked to him about everything and nothing — she couldn't quite remember what they'd talked about for the last hour at all, truthfully.

She could have taken them up to her dormitory, but she hadn't the heart to part with them yet. They were beautiful flowers, the colors vibrant and distracting, the sentiment behind them even more so. And no one had ever gotten her flowers before, and she was a hopeless romantic at heart though she'd never admit so out loud. She hid romance books under her pillow, and she listened to Tori's stories of men wooing her with a sort of wistfulness for the same, though she was fairly certain she was good at hiding it.

George had always been sweet with her, showing a softness he reserved for no one else, but there was something so affectionate about the gesture of the flowers that she didn't at all care about any instance before this one.

"They're beautiful," she said, still eyeing them fondly, her voice soft despite the fact that no one else was around them.

They occupied one of the armchairs by the fire, her perched sideways on his lap — both because she still hadn't quite fought the urge to be as close to him as possible and because she was leeching warmth from him, which he seemed perfectly happy to provide. She'd kicked off her shoes long ago, curling her sock clad feet in between the cushions to keep her toes warm, and he'd snaked one of his arms around her, his thumb having somehow managed to slip under her shirt and rubbed soothing circles on her side. There was something very intimate and possessive about the action, and she'd simply melted into a puddle the moment he'd done it.

Fred and Tori had long since given up on being around their current lovesick episode, and left them nearly an hour before to sit with Lee at a corner table in the common room, both of them making a clear effort to ignore each other completely. It had not gone unnoticed by George, who had sighed heavily when he'd seen them, but Nessa had been quick to steal his attention back.

"So are you," he said, grinning widely when her cheeks flushed and she looked up to give him a pointed look.

"That was very cheesy," she said, trying to keep her tone level despite the way her stomach was flipping. It was a very poor attempt.

"I might feel worse about that if you weren't grinning at me like that," he said, laughing when she bit her lip in an attempt to stop. He pulled her lip from between her teeth with his thumb, and made a disapproving noise. "Don't try and hide now, love. You've already given yourself away: You like it when I'm cheesy. Perhaps I should memorize Shakspeare — really put in an effort here."

She snorted, rolling her eyes at him fondly.

"Have you even read Shakespeare?"

"'Course," he snorted. "How else would I charm birds like you?" He laughed at the disapproving look she gave him, and kissed away her pout, sighing happily as he pulled back. He felt like he'd spent the entire day kissing her — the Great Hall, once when he'd convinced her (by some miracle) that they'd be less likely to be caught by McGonagall in a broom cupboard than a classroom, and anywhere else he could manage in the last several hours. She was something else entirely, and he almost felt like he couldn't get enough of her. "I'm only joking, love," he promised, kissing the side of her head. "I'll only ever use it to charm you —"

"You've never used it to charm me," she snorted pointedly.

"Well, I haven't exactly found the opportunity, see," he said, twirling a strand of her hair around his finger. "It's a very romantic quote, you know. It's the sort of thing that requires the right time and place."

She gave him a curious look, her curiosity outweighing her clear disbelief. She couldn't leave well enough alone, and they both knew it.

"Which one is it?" she said, against her better judgment.

There was a twinkle in his eyes that told of future mischief, and, while she did believe that he'd read Shakespeare in an attempt to pick up women, she had sincere doubts that whatever he was about to say was going to be overly romantic and flowery. Cheesy he might be, but she didn't quite think he was the Shakespeare type, although he'd certainly proved her wrong before.

He made a great show of straightening them, resituating her on his lap, and clearing his throat loudly and dramatically. It took a great deal of effort to keep herself from rolling her eyes, but she could feel her lips twitching despite her best efforts. He looked at her sincerely, that twinkle being pushed back to the deep recesses of the blue in his eyes, and lifted her hand to his lips to kiss the back of it. Her breathing stalled, something within her slowing completely at the intensity of his gaze.

That was, until he opened his mouth.

"Your bum is the greatest thing about you."

He'd said it in a very exaggerated, dramatic voice, as if it were something horribly romantic, and she had no idea what she'd expected from someone as ridiculous as him. She snorted, hitting him lightly upside his head.

"George Fabian —"

He was laughing uproariously, earning them several looks from the other students in the common room, and she was working very hard not to laugh with him because it was utterly ridiculous, what he'd said, but it would merely encourage him, and he was quite pleased with himself as it was.

"Do you ever behave?" she said when he'd composed himself enough to look at her again.

"Only marginally," he said, chuckling to himself a little. "I may have been joking about the quote, but you do have a nice bum, and honesty is considered behaving, isn't it?"

She huffed at him, her cheeks going pink again.

"Don't be ridiculous —"

"I'm not," he snorted. "What do you think I'm always walking behind you for? You've got very short legs — if I walked that slow, I might as well just crawl there."

She rolled her eyes to the ceiling, smacking him with the back of her hand, and choosing to ignore the suggestion entirely.

"Well, do you think I enjoy going on a casual stroll next to you and feeling like I ran a mile?" she said. "I don't know what you're in such a hurry for. You barely have any classes —"

"Oi!" he said, inching his hand up from where it had come to rest on her stomach to tickle her sides. "I'd hardly call that behaving!"

She squealed loudly, struggling to get her feet free from the cushions enough to get away from him. He was much stronger than her, rendering her attempts to push his hand away from her sides entirely moot. She could feel him laughing underneath her as she squirmed and struggled to get away from him, but he only stopped tickling her at the point that she'd pushed herself so far down the armchair that she was hanging half over the arm and her head had come to rest entirely in his lap.

It was not at all comfortable for her back, but she didn't care, the relief of him having stopped tickling her causing her whole body to sag, her breaths coming out in sharp, panting bursts. He was grinning down at her charmingly, his eyes twinkling madly despite her weak glare in his direction.

She looked ridiculous — her hair in disarray from struggling, her shirt had ridden up a little and he was working particularly hard on not looking at the newly exposed skin, and one of her socks had slid half down her foot from her attempt to use her feet as a means of escaping his grasp — but she was flushed pink and there was a carefreeness about her that made his heart melt for her.

She'd been so particularly tense this year, always worried about something, always waiting for the shoe to drop, always waiting for something dark and horrible around the corner. Seeing her like this was a relief, a breath of fresh air. He'd missed her like this. Missed hearing her laugh and seeing her smile freely and watching her relax into him without there having to be a cause of distress.

He wasn't sure if it had been something he'd done that had pulled him out of her funk or if it had been the slowing of the craziness that seemed to always be following her and Harry around or if she had simply just over-analyzed and over -worked herself into a state of utter calm. And he wasn't delusional enough to believe that it would remain this way — not when the second task was upcoming — but he basked in it anyway, content with the thought that she was carefree and calm in the moment, and that his concern for her wellbeing could placed on a brief hiatus.

It was relieving for her, he was sure, but also for him. He tried not to come off as the sort of person who believed her anxiety was more difficult for him than for her, but it was oftentimes overwhelming, even despite his more positive outlook. He was fairly certain he managed to cover this well because he knew without a doubt that it was not, in fact, worse for him than it was for her, and he was content with being her safe space because she was his.

Odd, really, that they were so different, but she kept him sane. Odder still that he found her comforting even when she was being neurotic and anxious. Though he supposed if he didn't, they'd be in for a difficult time of it.

"That was rude," she huffed up at him, a clear attempt to look more annoyed than fond of him.

She had that sort of personality — the one that covered up her true feelings behind snark and feigned huffiness — but he could see the delight in her eyes. She was a horrible liar anyway, and an even worse actor. Her eyes were twinkling, and her lips twitching, and she resituated herself on his lap as though nothing at all had happened. And he'd seen her irritated before — she was more of the "don't touch me" type when he pissed her off.

"I think what you meant to say," he said, tweaking her fondly on the nose. "Was fun, my love."

There was a moment of confusion when she froze completely, her eyes shooting up to stare at him in surprise, before he realized what he'd said.

My love…

He'd never called her that before. He'd always called her 'love' and under a plethora of situations — in annoyance, in jest, in amusement, in adoration. He'd called her sweetheart, too — an endearment he typically reserved for instances when she was upset and he was providing her with some form of comfort or he was being particularly vulnerable, like earlier when he'd asked her to go to the ball with him.

Those endearments she was used to — so much so that she prickled a little when he called her by her full, government name, despite the fact that he was one of the very few people she allowed to do so.

But he'd never called her my love. And she didn't know what about it made her freeze entirely, her entire heart skipping a few beats so that it felt like it stuttered in her chest. It wasn't all that different, really. Just an additional word in the front, but it somehow made her panic a little.

She didn't know why. It was stupid. But she hadn't thought through the entire thing enough and he was looking at her with the sort of adoration that she'd seen from him only three times before — when he'd been watching her humor his father at the World Cup, when she'd told him she didn't doubt for one moment that he'd open his joke shop, and when they'd been upstairs talking about their new products.

Well, and earlier in the Great Hall, so she supposed on four occasions, but it didn't aid the panic any.

It wasn't the sort of panic she was used to — the one that made her want to run or hide and wait out the horror. On the contrary, she didn't want to run at all because she was staring at him with bated breath, waiting for him to explain what the words meant and somehow dreading and anticipating them all at once.

Because she wasn't stupid. She knew the difference between 'love' and 'my love.' And she didn't think that it bothered her to know the difference or that he must feel that way if he'd said it — though if his own stillness were an indication, it was said purely by accident — but it was panic wondering how she'd respond if he told her he loved her right now, in this very moment.

Did she love him back? How in the hell was she supposed to know when she'd never loved anyone before? Was that what this giddy feeling was?

She needed more time to think about the entire thing, really.

And wasn't that stupid? Did people normally need time to come to terms with these things?

Even still, she didn't run or make up some excuse to hide in her dormitory. She just sat there, tucked into his chest, and stared at him with bated breath, waiting for the words she was sure were coming.

Hoping they were coming, even though she had no idea what she'd say back. At least not when she put too much thought into it because she couldn't really tell if the panic was due to the words themselves or the fact that she'd never said them to anyone but her friends or her brother.

He stared back, something considering behind his eyes as if he were weighing whether he wanted to play the endearment off for the time being or wanted to say the words she was waiting for. She could see the moment he chose to say them, and she held her breath as he opened his mouth slowly — she was certain she was going to pass out if he didn't say something soon because she'd been holding her breath for so long that she was getting light-headed (or maybe that was the giddiness, she couldn't tell anymore) —

They both jumped when someone took a seat on the couch to the right of them, huffing loudly. Nessa couldn't quite tell if it was relief or resignation that flickered across George's face, but she knew very well that it was irritation flowing through her own veins, and she was sincerely tempted to snap at whoever had interrupted whatever bubble they'd been in.

George chuckled at the annoyance on her face, tucked that same errant hair behind her ear again, and placed a chaste kiss on her lips.

"Later, sweetheart," he promised.

She huffed again, and turned to face whoever had interrupted them, and rolled her eyes immediately.

Of course, it was Harry. It was always Harry. He had the observation skills of a fruit fly.

It was her irritation with him that kept her from being anxious about the fact that he looked so morose. He looked pale and irritated, his entire body sagging into the couch and a scowl on his face.

She was severely tempted not to ask him at all what was bothering him because she was having such a good day, and she was being a little bit petty, but George rubbed a soothing hand down her side, and said, "What's wrong with you?"

Harry grumbled something that sounded distinctly like "Don't want to talk about it," which further irritated her. If he was going to interrupt her moment, he was certainly going to talk about it.

She shifted off of George's lap so that she could better face her brother, preparing to slide onto the floor at his feet, but he spread his legs and pulled her between them, forcing her to recline back into him. She bit her lip to keep from grinning — she was sure that Harry would not appreciate it given his current mood — and looked at her brother with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, it's too bad you caught me in a good mood then," she said lightly, and pointedly. "Because your sour mood is ruining it, so you're going to talk about it whether you'd like to or not."

Tori and Fred looked up at the firm tone of her voice and grinned at each other before pushing at each other to get to them first, clearly in the mood to see Harry get snapped at. Fred reached the armchair first, and grinned arrogantly, shoving Tori away from it so he could recline in it. She took an irritated swipe at his head and then took a seat as far from him as was possible on the couch with Harry.

"What's wrong with you?" Fred said, mimicking his twin's question.

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Nothing," he groused. "I'm just now realizing that Diggory is a useless pretty boy who doesn't have enough brains to fill an eggcup."

Nessa was surprised by this assessment, and Tori snorted, hiding her mouth behind her hand. Fred nodded in agreement, and she was certain she heard George make a noise of approval from behind her that she chose to ignore.

"If only Nessa could see that for herself, eh?" Fred said, grinning at the glare she sent him in response. "At least there's one Potter who's got brains."

"It's a wonder people don't like you more," Nessa said sarcastically before looking at her brother again. "And what did Cedric do?"

"What? You don't know?" Harry said giving her a look of betrayal.

"Harry, I do not have time for your whining —"

"Yeah, you're really cutting into her lovesick mooning with George," Tori reprimanded jokingly. Nessa rolled her eyes. "Think I might be sick watching them together."

"Like if you drank butterbeer through a licorice wand," Fred said, gagging. "Hurts your teeth to look at, you know?"

"Do the two of you ever shut up?" Nessa snapped.

"Not since I've known them," George said with a snort.

Harry huffed.

"I'm glad I came to you four for comfort, this is really helping, thanks."

"Will you quit being so dramatic and tell us what's happening?" Nessa snapped. "I've had an easier time listening to girls cry in the loo than I do talking to you right now."

Harry glared at her and the twins sniggered, but she didn't at all care. She'd been in the middle of a lovesick episode, and he'd come and ruined it with his huffs and scowls.

"Did you know that he was taking Cho to the ball?"

Nessa stilled, suddenly wondering if he'd mentioned it. She hadn't asked — he still looked at her oddly, and that picture of them in Witch Weekly had really freaked her out, so she'd steered clear of anything that could be…awkward.

So she was pretty sure he'd not told her, but now that she was thinking about it, he had been talking about Cho an awful lot lately…

"Er," she said, grimacing guiltily. "Well, it didn't come up —"

"How not?" Harry said indignantly. "You're friends, aren't you? How does that not come up? It's the only thing anyone talks about anymore. They should make giggling illegal."

Fred snorted, rolling his eyes in George's direction, though Tori appeared to agree.

"Well, it didn't!" she snapped. "And I don't see how this is my fault anyway! What in the bloody hell did you expect when you waited until the last minute to ask her to the ball? She's just supposed to wait around for you to moon after her?"

Harry opened his mouth angrily to retort, but he was distracted by Ron and Ginny coming in through the portrait hole. Ron looked worse than Harry — his face ashen with wide, horrified eyes. Ginny was patting him on the arm and murmuring soothingly to him, though she looked very close to laughing.

She was controlling Ron entirely, moving him around the arm of the couch and sitting him down next to Harry on the only available spot on the couch. Ginny sat on the arm next to him, continuing to murmur to him in a low tone.

"What's up, Ron?" Harry said after shooting Nessa a nervous look.

"Why did I do it?" Ron said wildly, looking over at Harry in a blind horror. Tori and the twins were listening eagerly — it was clear whatever Ron was about to say was going to be embarrassing, and he didn't seem to have noticed that anyone other than Ginny and Harry were near them. Nessa was sure he'd not have said a word in front of his brothers otherwise. "I don't know what made me do it!"

Ginny looked up at the ceiling to keep from laughing, and Nessa raised an eyebrow.

"What?" Harry said, perplexed.

"He — er — just asked Fleur Delacour to go to the ball with him," Ginny said. Nessa gaped at her, trying to decide if she wanted to laugh or feel badly on his behalf. The twins and Tori had no such qualms, bursting into laughter. Ron jolted, seeming to notice their presence now, and moaned in pain, putting his head in his hands. "Well, he sort of screamed it at her actually. It was a bit frightening to tell you the truth."

"Oh, this has got to be the best day since I've been alive," Fred said through his laughter. "Wait, where's Colin? We need a picture of this."

"Fred, knock it off," Nessa said, trying to keep herself from grinning.

"We could get it framed, love," George said wistfully. "Right above my bed. Just imagine it —"

Ron's head shot up from his hands, the panic setting in again and clearly in no mood to humor his older brothers at all.

"I don't know what made me do it," he said again. He looked crazed and it was as much amusing as it was alarming. "What was I playing at? There were people — all around — I've gone mad — everyone watching!" Nessa had to cover her mouth then because she wanted to feel bad for him — she really did — but it was nothing less than what he deserved after the way he'd been talking about women days before, but she was sure that Ron wouldn't appreciate her laughing. Harry looked as horrified as Ron did, but Tori had doubled over laughing next to him. "She was just walking past me, talking to Diggory — and you know how I like to watch them walk —"

"Oh, Jesus Christ," Nessa muttered, rolling her eyes. Fred and George seemed on the verge of celebrating at their brother's misfortune, and this tidbit of information sent them into a fit of laughter that was the closest to giggles as Nessa had ever heard from the two of them.

" — and it sort of came over me — and I asked her. 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."

"Oh, Merlin, stop," Tori gasped, waving her arms frantically in an attempt to control herself. "I'm going to wet myself."

Nessa snorted when Ron glared at her.

"This isn't funny!" He said angrily. "This is — I'm going to remember this for the rest of my life —"

"Oh, believe me, so are we," Tori said, wiping tears from her eyes and clearly not at all bothered by Ron's meltdown.

"She's part Veela," Harry said sympathetically, clearly taking a different approach than Tori and the twins. Nessa supposed if it had been her in Ron's place she'd have taken a dive headfirst off the Astronomy Tower, but didn't think saying so would be helpful. "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."

Nessa bit her tongue to keep herself from mentioning that none of this was true. Fleur had been the first to get a date for the ball — not at all that surprising — and had had her fair choice of men. She'd decided to go with Roger Davies days before, or so Nessa had heard through the grapevine, and likely hadn't been doing anything with Cedric other than talking. Ron's ability to separate himself from her charm was its own separate issue.

Ron looked up at Harry, his misery hidden by his curiosity.

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

Ginny had suddenly stopped smiling, flinching lightly at the words and her shoulders sagged in disappointment. Nessa felt a pang of understanding, and reached an arm out to indicate that Ginny should join her and George on the armchair instead. Her brother was too dense to pick up on the shift anyway, and she knew very well what it felt like to fancy someone who was interested in someone else.

It had ended in her favor, but the feeling wasn't something she was likely to forget, and she'd done so much better fighting that feeling when Fred had been so supportive. She offered the same to Ginny, and she took it, casually walking over to her, and settling at her feet, sighing heavily as she leaned back against her legs.

"This is mad," said Ron, clearly just as dense about Ginny's upset as Harry appeared to be. "We're the only ones who haven't got anyone — well, except Neville. Hey — guess who he asked? Hermione!"

"What?" said Harry, completely distracted by this startling news.

"Yeah, I know!" said Ron, some of the color coming back into his face as he started to laugh. "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?"

Nessa straightened, scowling at him darkly. She'd always liked Neville, despite his obvious awkwardness. He reminded her a bit of herself, honestly. Very anxious, very insecure, a little socially awkward, but he was a perfectly nice boy.

"Don't!" said Ginny, annoyed. "Don't laugh —"

"Don't know why he is anyway," Tori said with a roll of her eyes, giving Nessa a warning look that clearly advised that she hold her tongue. "Neville appears to have grown the balls to ask a girl much sooner than either of you."

Ron and Harry didn't seem to care all that much, clearly stuck within their laughter, and Nessa was sincerely debating snapping at them despite Tori's attempt to warn her off it, but Hermione climbed in through the portrait hole and came over to join them.

"Why weren't you two at dinner?" she said.

"Because — oh shut up laughing, you two — because they've both just been turned down by girls they've asked to the ball!" said Ginny.

That shut Harry and Ron up, but sent the twins into a fit of laughter. Nessa and Tori smirked at each other, Tori reaching over to give Ginny a high five.

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

Hermione, who also clearly had not forgiven Ron for his previous comments, loftily said, "All the good ones taken, Ron? Eloise Midgen starting to look quite pretty now, is she? Well, I'm sure you'll find someone somewhere who'll have you."

Nessa smirked wider, but it fell the moment Ron started talking again. He was looking at Hermione as though suddenly seeing her in a whole new light.

"Hermione, Nevile's right — you are a girl…"

"Bloody hell, mate, give it a rest, would you?" George said, though he sounded amused regardless, clearly sensing the direction this conversation was heading.

Hermione did not find the comment nearly as amusing, for a very good reason.

"Oh well spotted," she said acidly.

"Well — you can come with one of us!"

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

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

Even Fred seemed quite astounded by his younger brother's clear stupidity in the direction of the conversation. Nessa saw him surprised on so few occasions, but he was gaping at his brother now, stuck somewhere between disbelief and amusement, and clearly wondering how much of a hole Ron would dig himself.

Made worse by the fact that it seemed so obvious to her that Hermione was interested in Ron to some degree. They sort of reminded her of Tori and Fred, bickering constantly in an attempt to ignore their feelings for each other, but it was clear that these feelings were not yet returned by Ron.

Nessa wanted to look away as it felt like she was watching a train about to derail, but her eyes wouldn't move no matter how much she told herself to busy herself with something else.

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

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

"Ron," Nessa said sharply, attempting to — somehow — get him to stop talking. Or at least realize that he was quite possibly the most idiotic person she'd ever heard speak.

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

Ron stared at her. Then he grinned again. Tori groaned, and Nessa repeated his name in a warning tone, but he waved them both off.

"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 again. There was a long moment of silence between them all before Fred let out a low whistle.

"Well, that was a bit painful to watch, wasn't it?" he said lightly.

"Though always good to know that the Weasley charm stopped with the two of us," George agreed.

Ron glared at the two of them, but looked at Harry.

"She's lying," he said flatly. Harry did not appear to want to confirm or deny this statement, and Nessa couldn't tell if it was because he'd noticed Hermione was a girl before now or because Nessa was eyeing him sharply.

"She's not," Ginny said quietly, saving Harry from having to answer.

"Who is it then?" said Ron sharply.

Nessa and Tori were equally as intrigued by the question because Hermione hadn't mentioned anything to them either, but Ginny just shook her head.

"I'm not telling you, it's her business," said Ginny.

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

"I can't," said Ginny, and she went scarlet. Fred and George stopped grinning immediately, sitting up straighter to eye their younger sister sharply. Nessa huffed when George's movement caused her to fly forward into Ginny, and she smacked him on the chest. He ignored her, watching his sister closely. "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."

She looked extremely miserable, and Ron was goggling at her. Nessa eyed the youngest Weasley sharply.

"And she doesn't deserve to go as someone's pity date, either," she said firmly, her displeasure for Ron's suggestion quite clear. "She's worth far more than that, and I'd hope, as her brother, that you'd care more about that."

Ginny's gaze met hers before she straightened, giving her a resolute nod, and eyeing her brother distastefully as well.

"Right," she said firmly, standing with her head held much higher than she had before. "That too. I suppose the two of you will just have to find someone else to go with, won't you?"

Nessa was not stupid enough to believe that Ginny was not still upset about her near miss in going to the ball with Harry, but she watched the younger Gryffindor with pride as she left the common room, looking a bit more like herself than she had only seconds before that.

"Well, this is a nightmare, isn't it?" Ron said grumpily.

"Too bad George is going with Harry's sister," Tori said sarcastically. "Wouldn't it be so romantic if the girl you fancied went with you to the ball by accident and fell in love with you?"

Nessa gave Tori a horrified look when Ron started spluttering and went scarlet at the suggestion, refusing to make eye contact with her. She hadn't known he'd fancied her — sure, he'd been weird when he'd found out she'd been dating George at the end of summer, but he hadn't been since. She'd thought he was just awkward about the topic of dating.

How many goddamn men fancied her anyway? This was getting ridiculous.

Fred had clearly known — or suspected — because he started laughing at his brother's expense and George snorted behind her, raising an eyebrow in Ron's direction to see how he'd respond. Nessa didn't want to know, and she was about to abruptly change the subject back to safer territory, but Harry seemed to understand what Tori was implying and found the entire thing quite unappealing because his head snapped to look at Ron with narrowed eyes.

"You fancy my sister?" he said sharply.

Nessa didn't know what he had to be so ruffled about. He wasn't the one with multiple Weasleys barking up the same tree. Made worse by the fact that he fancied his brother's girlfriend, and the fact that she had not thought of Ron in a romantic way at any point in her life.

"He fancies anything that moves, Harry," Fred said in amusement. "It happens when you're such an ugly git that no one will snog you."

Harry ignored him, glaring at Ron still.

"Well?" he demanded.

"No," Ron scoffed, still spluttering. "No, of course not. Doesn't know what she's saying — I don't even think of Nessa as a woman, you know —"

"Good because I don't think of you as a man," Nessa snapped back, offended by the insinuation. George laughed behind her, his delight with this rebuke quite obvious, though Ron flushed a deeper scarlet.

"Moron," Tori said under her breath, laughing at the mess Ron had made for himself in the last several seconds. Ron glared at her.

Harry was still eyeing him suspiciously but was distracted by Parvati and Lavender passing behind the couch. He gave Ron a dark look and said, "Wait here." He left them all in front of the fire, hurrying after the two fourth year girls and speaking with them quietly. Based on the amount of giggling, Nessa assumed she knew what he was saying.

"I don't fancy you," Ron said into the awkward silence, still refusing to look at her.

Tori snorted.

"Well, that's good, because she wasn't joking about not thinking of you as a man," she said seriously. "And I don't think she quite likes being yelled at for a date."

Ron glared at her.

"You're very smug for someone who doesn't have a date —"

"Please," Tori snorted. "I have a date —"

"Who?" Fred said sharply.

Tori met his gaze dead-on, raising an eyebrow arrogantly.

"Some Bulgarian bloke," she said dismissively. "I can't remember his name —"

Ron snorted, rolling his eyes.

"How can you go to the ball with someone when you don't even know their name?" he said. "You're just going to avoid saying his name the whole night?"

"Wasn't actually planning on doing much talking," Tori said loftily.

Fred growled, Tori smirked, and Ron gagged.

"I don't need to know that," he said, clearly unaware of the tension between Tori and Fred. Nessa really didn't know how he had survived this long in life. He noticed nothing. "Do you know who Hermione is going with?"

Tori rolled her eyes to the ceiling.

"Weasleys," she said in irritation, unfolding herself from the couch. "She didn't mention it to us, no. I suppose we'll have to find out who he is before the ball next week. And unfortunately for you, Ronnie," she said, smiling cruelly at the younger Weasley, "you deserve to eat your words."

Ron eyed her warily, clearly expecting some prank. Nessa grinned, knowing full well what Tori was planning.

"What's that mean?" he said sharply.

"She's grown on me, Hermione," Tori said conversationally, raising an eyebrow at Vanessa. "We have extra time to help her make heads turn, don't we?"

After that disaster of a conversation, Nessa would make the time. It was of great pleasure to her to open Ron's eyes to his misplaced superiority, particularly when he had such a horrible tendency of opening his mouth without thinking.

"Fantastic," Tori grinned when Nessa nodded at her, and stood, expecting that her best friend had intentions of hounding Hermione now. "This has gotten far more exciting, wouldn't you say?"


Yule Ball is next. I'm ending here because I have no idea how long I'll make that chapter, so I'm playing it safe and ending this one here.

I'll see you soon for more romance!