Envy and Manipulations: Rewrite 36

by rrabbit

Sixteen year old Ginny Weasley has her first summer job at the Folk Hills Country Club, the most prestigious high society club in the wizarding world. When Draco Malfoy comes home from his summer internship at the Ministry of Magic things get complicated, dark, and twisted. Rewrite.

1. Chapter 1

A/N- I have decided to rewrite Envy and Manipulations chapter by chapter to hopefully get the drive back to write the sequel. The bones will stay the same but hopefully I'm able to flesh out more of the story and fix some things I don't like. I hope you enjoy this ride with me. Buckle up!

Envy & Manipulations

"Here's your purse, Mrs. Green. Have a great day!"

I smile brightly at the woman in the plaid dress and emerald blazer as she takes her designer purse from me. She doesn't even bother to acknowledge my existence as she slings the gold chain strap over her shoulder and unzips the top. She stands there, still ignoring me, as she digs around inside- finally producing a pair of gold rimmed aviator sunglasses that she places on the bridge of her nose. She looks like some sort of alien with them on and I hide a smile at my mental comparison, busying myself with a stack of tickets to my left so she doesn't catch on… but, how could she? I'm not even a person to her.

She takes out a tube of lip-gloss and applies an obscene amount on her puffed up lips. They glisten and shine a glossy cherry red.

"Have a good one!" I say as she turns to walk away.

She doesn't bother to reply. Not that I thought she would.

Mrs. Green never tips and I despise her for it. If I have to put up with her snooty attitude the least she could do is pay me for it.

As soon as she's out of sight, I slump my shoulders and rest my elbows against the counter. I try to shift my weight from foot to foot to relieve some of the pressure, but it's no use. The balls of my feet are burning and my arch is aching. I have bad shoes… hand me down black things not made for standing all day that once belonged to my mother.

They are a size too big and rub blisters on my heels- but I have nothing else. The dress code here is pretty strict about things and it's not like I can afford to get new ones right now. My mom only buys me practical shoes at the beginning of the school year… and only then when the old ones I get from my brothers are literally crumbling. Which sometimes they do… Rubber soles don't last forever and they definitely don't last through a houseful of rowdy boys.

It's always fun to watch your shoes literally disintegrate in front of your friends.

Time passes. I sigh and put my chin in my hands as I watch the clock… the minute hand slowly ticks by at a snail's pace. Sometimes I think it's bewitched to make the minutes seem much longer than they actually are. Awful, repetitive music plays from the speakers overhead and harsh, fluorescent lights shine down from green domed lanterns hanging from a bronze tiled ceiling. I often wonder if this is what hell is like. Just one monotonous day stretched out for eternity with terrible smooth jazz playing on repeat- surrounded by bad lighting that makes everything seem ugly and washed out…. while wearing the world's most uncomfortable shoes.

I send a glance down to my brown bag. I resist the urge to open it and take out my notebook. I'm at work, I can't get it right now. It's against the rules and Delsia is always looking for reasons to write me up. She caught me reading a book two weeks ago and had a fit about it even though I had been standing at the counter for two whole hours without seeing a soul.

You could clean, she had said, throwing a broom at me. If you have time to lean- you have time to clean, Weasley.

I straighten immediately when a couple approaches and I put on my best smile as a tall bottle blonde puts her large bag on the counter. "Hello, Mrs. Randolph," I greet her happily enough and she smiles at me.

She's wearing a white sundress and a floppy straw hat to protect her skin from the sun. Spray tans are in season this summer and some are more successful than others. It seems to fit with all the fake personalities these people have, but Mrs. Randolph's isn't too bad. She's only slightly orange. As opposed to Mrs. Dietrich who looks like a tangerine.

"It's a lovely day," I lie. I don't actually know what the weather is like because I've been stuck inside this little room for most of it.

She smiles at me again, showing bleached white teeth all in a perfect row. I know she has to be older than she looks… the hands always give it away. That's what my mother says, anyway, and I glance down as she rummages through her bag to take out her wallet. She's wearing a gold tennis bracelet with youthful charms dangling from it– but her hands are the hands of an old woman. Sun spotted with thick, ropy veins along the top that tell of an age that doesn't match the smooth, tight skin of her face.

"Oh, it is so beautiful, Gin." Gin. She always calls me that. I noticed it was a tick of hers to shorten everyone's name to seem more familiar just as my mum liked to call people "dear". It worked… I found myself liking her because of it.

The hint of vanity charms and plastic surgery swirl around her well sculpted features. A manufactured masterpiece built to order like so many others I see come and go from my little coat check spot… but under all the falsehood there was real beauty to be found in Mrs. Randolph. She had been a model in her youth. That's what Delsia had told me. A model from a no nothing family who married a rich man. He had pulled her from poverty and placed her on a runway like a true Cinderella story.

"How are you two doing this afternoon?" I ask as I glance at her husband.

I hate Mr. Randolph.

He's a surgeon at St. Mungo's and he always looks like he's terribly late for an important meeting.

"I'm doing just wonderful," she says kindly. I know her politeness isn't really genuine, but then again, neither is mine. "Benny and I are going to go out to the golf course in a little bit so I wanted to leave my pool things with you." I take the bag and grab a ticket for her. "You know they have that half-blood out there cleaning the dunes. You never know what they'll do. Can't trust the lot of them."

I feel my insides cringing at her comment, but I try to keep my facial expression neutral. She's talking about Seamus Finnigan. Working here is his summer job as well.

"Well, I'll keep it safe for you," I smile brightly again, keeping my disgust at her ignorance at bay. There was a lot of casual prejudice here and it took a while for me to not be so bothered by it. Privilege had made them intolerant, but I wanted their money more than I wanted the fight. That would be for another day. "Have Fun!" I say as I hand her a ticket. She takes it and then hands me three silver sickles from her wallet in return.

See. Mrs. Randolph tips.

"You're so pretty, Gin," she says like she knew me well enough to comment on such a thing. I inwardly roll my eyes as I put the coins in my pocket.

Mrs. Randolph is really the only member who tries to have conversations with me. Besides the old men who like to hit on me, of course, but they hardly count. I think it's because she used to be poor and sees some of herself in me… back when her face could still move and her hair wasn't bleached to oblivion. Maybe 'conversations' is being generous. She never actually listens to anything I have to say. She just talks at me and she's so out of touch now that she always ends up saying something offensive or off color. I usually end up wishing she would just ignore me like Mrs. Green.

"I have no idea why they keep you cooped up in this box all day," she says as she looks around my little bag and cloak check out station, her nose tilted up in disdain at the forest green walls and checkered marble floor. "You should see the beasts they have waitressing now." If she could make a face, I'm sure she would have. "My word, where do they find such girls? A barn?"

She laughs at that.

All she cares about are outward appearances. That much I have gathered. It's kind of sad, in a way. To find worth only in something so surface level that is so fleeting. There was more to life than fitting into that size two dress or having that perfectly sloped nose… but what did I know? I was still a pauper in comparison…. but at least Mrs. Randolph didn't think I came from a barn.

"It's always nice to eat with a pleasant face around. Wouldn't you say, Ben?" She looks towards her husband who checks his watch and nods his head. It looks like he cares about this conversation as much as I do. "Oh well, see you later then."

"Be careful out there. I hear it's supposed to rain," I say because that's what Mum had told me as she threw a rain cloak around my shoulders this morning.

I wave her off and slump my shoulders once she's out of seeing range.

I reach down and run my fingers over the coins in my pocket. Trying to count out how much I've made today and adding it to the hourly wage I'll get at the end of the week. I've never been good at math and I have to count on my fingers a few times to reach a total. Not nearly enough… but it is what it is, I guess.

This is the first real job I've ever had and I'm proud to say that I've been saving every paycheck, resisting the urge to splurge on things I don't actually need so I can save up for a writing retreat I want to go on next summer in Ireland. It's a three week long workshop for underage witches who want to become writers and the keynote speaker is Elle Lyons- my favorite author. She's even teaching a class there, but of course it is terribly expensive and there are no financial aid options.

I can't ask my parents to pay for it… I am not ignorant of their financial situation. I know better than to ask them certain things and watch the guilt slip on their faces when they have to tell me no. Or not this year. Or the chipper way my mum tries to suggest something else "just as good" when we all know it's her just trying to deflect from the fact they can barely afford to keep the roof over our heads let alone indulge the extra expenses of seven kids.

Sometimes it's painful to see how flippant the people here are with their money. They come waltzing in- handing me purses and jackets that cost more than my father's annual salary and then they have the audacity to complain about the lights being too bright or their food being too salty.

Sometimes I have to remind myself why I'm here.

Being surrounded by so much wealth makes me long for a luxury I've never really been exposed to before. I find myself getting lost in fantasies of being rich, and famous, and pool side without a care in the world. Wearing new shoes that always fit… never having to worry about bills… changing lives with my wealth. But the only way that will ever happen is through my own merit. I love magic. I love being a witch, but Hogwarts doesn't focus so much on creative pursuits and I find it lacking in that area. I need to go on that retreat and Folk Hills is the place that is going to get me there.

Luna Lovegood was the one who first told me about this place. She heard me complaining at the end of term about how hard it was to find a decent paying job during the summer break and how desperate I was to make money.

It pays well, she had told me in a dreamy voice with her wand tucked behind her ear. Her Dad had worked there when he was younger, she had said, and in one year had saved up enough money to buy an engagement ring for Luna's mother. She had worked there herself last summer and was planning on doing it again.

I asked my dad before I applied for a position and I remember how his nose crinkled at the mention of it. My mum reminisced about how she used to go there as a girl and swim in the large lounge pools under the colored dome…. But that was before the First Wizarding War. That was before the Prewitt fortune was lost and before she married my dad.

I had never heard of it… but I started to feel like I was the only one. Everyone I talked to seemed to have an opinion on the infamous Folk Hills Country Club.

Unbeknownst to me, Folk Hills was the most prestigious and renowned private club in the wizarding world. Only the most famous and wealthy pureblooded families were allowed to be members. I thought that it would be illegal to deny membership to such a place because of blood status, but Luna said that there's so much money at Folk Hills that the laws don't seem to matter. I put aside my personal beliefs and applied anyway. Most places wouldn't hire an underage witch and the house cleaning and yard work I was doing for knuts wasn't amounting to very much.

Besides, I found out that Dean Thomas and Seamus both worked at the club so I knew it couldn't be so terrible. It pays better than other places, Dean had told me and he was right. Seamus works on the golf course, doing god knows what far away from the patrons of the club, and Dean works as a lifeguard.

They like it well enough, but the only thing they said that bothered them was the whole 'status' ribbons we're told to wear.

During my interview, a very stern black woman named Delsia asked me typical applicant questions my dad had told me to expect. Why do you want to work here? What are your strengths? Do you work well with others? One question in particular kind of stopped me for a moment and I couldn't hide my shock.

What is your blood status?

That was another thing that I thought was illegal. I thought the Fair and Equal Opportunity Laws forbade such a thing. It made me think of the muggle borns at school who had come to Hogwarts so wide eyed with wonder- introduced to a world they had never even dreamt of before. The world my parents fought so hard to keep free and open to them. When I voiced my concern over it, she looked me straight in the eye and gave me a solid answer. Because Delsia was a solid, no nonsense person.

"Miss Weasley," she had said with her coal eyes burning into mine. "I am going to be completely honest with you. A majority of the members here are prejudiced bastards." I blinked a few times at the admission, but she kept going anyway despite my surprise. "It's safer if they know up front what status you are. There's been trouble in the past," she said seriously, like the thought troubled her. "I can't make you wear it," she said, leveling me with a look. "But it is in your best interest. You don't want them to assume incorrectly and have something happen you can't undo."

I didn't ask what that meant and she offered up no explanation.

My first day I was fitted with a blue ribbon to wear around my wrist.

"Some magic folk don't like anyone but a pureblood handling their things," She had told me. "Make sure they can always see your wrist."

Delsia gave me a whole handful of ribbons just in case I happened to lose one and I've taken to chewing on them when no one is looking as an anxious habit. Luna wears blue as well but Seamus and Dean have to wear yellow. It's so stupid, but I've never actually seen anyone get in trouble over it. I mean, the parents of the rich kids don't seem to mind that it's a half- blood saving their lives from drowning or giving them mouth to mouth. It's just the hurtful comments here and there that are bothersome, but I've learned to tune them out.

I was hoping to get hired at the restaurant as a waitress. That's what Luna does and she makes a small fortune in tips during the night that she uses to pay for her odd hobbies. Like snorkel hunting and toad grass collecting, but there were no open spots so Delsia put me at the bag and cloak counter. Far away from anything beautiful and glamorous- surrounded by hard, lacquered wood and spider webs.

"Rich people will tip you if you're pleasant," she said as she showed me the ropes, how to work the desk and do the tickets that had shimmering magicked numbers on them. "And especially if you're pretty, so just keep on smiling and you'll do just fine."

It kind of made me feel like a prostitute- showing teeth for a sickle… but hey, all I had to do was hang up a few cloaks and watch a few purses while I smiled and said "Yes, Sir" and "Yes, Ma'am." Easy Peasy. I make decent money doing it, too. More than I would at any other summer job and when the tips are good- I dare say I could work at this place all year long without complaint even with the odd slur thrown around here and there.

These heels really are killing me.

I slip out of them and I wiggle my toes to get the feeling back. I let the cool marble floor soothe the ache and I close my eyes for a moment as I crack my ankles. The dress code for the staff is ridiculous. All the men working inside the building have to wear a suit and tie. All of the women have to wear skirts or dresses and at least two-inch heels. No pants. No open toed shoes and absolutely nothing that could be considered casual attire like t-shirts or denim.

I didn't have many skirts or dresses at the beginning of the summer, but my mum took me out shopping right before I started working. We picked out a lot of pretty fabric from the clearance bin so she could make them for me. I remember staying up late one humid night as she took my measurements and we laughed over biscuits and milk. It was a good night. I like the way my mum makes my clothes. She knows exactly how to fit me and she's quite good at it…. I would take her homemade dresses over a lot of the ridiculous designer clothes I've seen here.

I look down at the yellow dress with the red roses on it and run my fingers over the bumpy fabric. Swiss dot, I think she had called it. I like how flowy it is and the fact that she added pockets that hide along the seams.

A half hour passes without me seeing a soul so I send a furtive look around the hall before getting my bag and digging out my notebook. Sometimes I just have to get out of my own head and writing is the escape that helps me do that. I could daydream, of course… but here is something so satisfying about putting pen to paper and seeing your thoughts realized on a page. Sometimes I go back and reread things that I had written and I can't believe it was me who penned the words at all. It's like I'm a different person every time I write a new line. It's like I'm not even real.

Writing helped me a lot when I was younger. Sometimes I felt so alone and pushed to the side that the only comfort I had were the stories I made up in my mind. Stories of bravery, and love, and adventures that would never hurt me, where I could live in a dream of my own making. Not a nightmare of someone else's.

One would think I would have an aversion to such a thing after what happened my first year… but here was comfort in the pages of a well-loved journal. There was happiness in a mind busy with stories other than ones own.

There was something so therapeutic about it.

I open the notebook to my marked spot and carefully run my fingers over the pages. I once lost it over Christmas break last year. I had stupidly left it on the train where it had fallen between the cushions. Out of sight, out of mind, they say. I nearly had a mental breakdown until my mother got a hold of Professor McGonagall and asked her to take a look for my sake. It was found and kept safe but I was ill at ease all of that winter break… It was like I was missing a very vulnerable part of myself and I think I would die if I were ever to lose it again.

The accumulation of all my thoughts and feelings condensed into the lines of short stories over the course of years would be something to mourn if lost, for sure.

I take out a quill and start writing. At first it is a stream of consciousness…. Just words strung together to make a sentence of no structure or purpose… but then the words start to take shape and my curling handwriting paints a picture.

Jonathan walked down the darkened hallway. He was sorry, of course he was. He didn't mean to do what he had done but it was all too late for that now. She sat in front of the fireplace, her head tilted towards the window and her hollowed eyes watching, and waiting, and judging as he pried open the floorboards and put the bundle inside.

"There," he had said, washing his hands of it. "No trouble at all."

But there was trouble. Even Jonathan in his enlitened state could feel it. It crept upon him like a spider and he sat in front of her as she drank the dark stain wine that spilled from the corners of her mouth and all over her funeral shroud–

"Are you going to help me, or do I have to stand here all day?"

I jump and the quill flies out of my hand. It clatters to the ground by my bare feet and I snap my eyes to the owner of the voice, gulping when I realize who it is.

"Um," is all I can come up with as his stormy eyes glare into mine.

I've seen Pansy Parkinson in passing as she went out to the pool with her younger sister…. I saw Cho Chang once with her mother when I was entering the building. She was dressed for a tennis lesson and she waved at me… but Draco Malfoy… I just wasn't prepared to see him standing there. Not now. Not in my area. I knew his parents were members. Of course, they were. Pompous things that they are. I had seen his mother hosting a luncheon in the tea room and his father often had brandy in the men's lounge, but I just… not him.

He raised an eyebrow as I tried to find the words.

After a few uncomfortable moments, I shake my head and straighten up with a fake smile. He could get me fired. He probably would too, with as evil as he is. I can feel the blush creeping over my cheeks, but I ignore it and hope he won't notice.

"What can I do for you?" I ask in a fake nice voice as he unclasps his slate rain cloak, revealing his blue polo and khaki shorts underneath.

The typical rich boy summer outfit.

He just stares at me for a moment- saying nothing.

Maybe he doesn't know who I am… I really don't want him to realize I'm Ron's little sister. I know how cowardly that is, but I also know how mean he can be. Perhaps I should be brave, but a part of me is scared of Malfoy even though I never would admit it to anyone.

His friends are horrible people too. They treated cruelty like a sport, really. Terrorizing and humiliating their peers was their favorite pastime. I remember Pansy Parkinson and Daphne Greengrass mercilessly bullied a Hufflepuff girl to tears every day until she left school for a few months in my third year. I remember Blaise Zabini throwing out his foot to trip Hannah Abbot when she was walking down the hallway and laughing when she broke her nose. I've seen Crabbe and Goyle beat kids up who were much smaller and weaker than they were, the very definition of punching down.

I knew they were cruel. All of them were, but Malfoy had become so hateful towards my brother and Harry that they started being just as hateful back. I could see a pleased little smirk at the corner of Malfoy's mouth every time my brother badmouthed him, or every time Harry drew his wand. It was almost like he was pleased that he was able to make them stoop to his level. Look at the gutter I brought you to, his smirk seemed to say. Just where you belong.

The last time I saw him was before we boarded the train to come home for summer break.

I don't even know what the fight was about. I don't know who started it or why, but by the time I reached them there was already a crowd gathered around to watch my brother, red faced and angry, cursing up a storm at Malfoy. Saying words that would make our mother's head spin and Hermione blush. I pushed through the crowd and saw Malfoy standing across from him, his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised in amusement.

"Are you done?" Malfoy had asked as he let his arms fall to his sides. The movement was so casual but I was sure he was just getting into position to draw his wand if he had to. "Even though that was quite entertaining, I have somewhere I need to be."

"You're an arrogant bastard, Malfoy," Harry said from behind my fuming brother and my eyebrows shot up because Harry rarely ever said things like that.

That's the thing about bad people, though. They bring out the worst in you.

"Shut up, scarhead," Malfoy said dismissively. "You're not even in this conversation."

"You're nothing but a prick, Malfoy," Ron seethed and Draco smirked again.

"At least I'm not poor," he said and Ron's ears burned. So did mine. It was embarrassing for me that our poverty was known and Malfoy knew how to cut someone down. "You're trash, Weasley. Your whole family is. At least Potter's parents can provide for him and they're dead. Your parents are just lazy freeloaders…."

That struck a nerve and Ron lunged at Malfoy with the intent to harm. Ron always let his anger get the best of him and he could never control his magic properly… so he always resorted to muggle methods when his emotions became too overwhelming. Draco drew his wand and I covered my mouth when he pointed it at my brother's throat, stopping the punch he was going to throw.

"Don't even think about fucking touching me," Draco said in a hissed whisper. I had never heard his voice sound like that… I had never seen his face look so hard. It sent a chill down my spine. "Step away from me," he said and Ron must have seen the seriousness in his expression because he did just that. "Don't ever come near me again or I will kill you."

Teachers came a few moments later to break up the fight, but the murderous look in Malfoy's eyes still haunts me. Even now I cannot shake the feeling. He's dangerous and there is something infinitely dark about him. Where once he was a sniveling little bully, easy to fold to fear and punishment… Now he was something else entirely and I wanted no part of it.

I force a smile again. A tight smile that makes my face hurt because it's so false. Remember why you're here, Ginny. Remember the money and the retreat. What is Draco Malfoy to that?

Nothing. He is absolutely nothing.

"Is it not obvious why I'm here?" he says snidely as he hands me the cloak. It's wet and I realize that it must have started raining. My mum was right and my warning to Mrs. Randolph was justified. "Isn't this your job?"

I blush and nod my head. "Let me put this away and get a ticket for you," I tell him as I grab a hanger for his cloak.

I go to one of the lockers made of shining bronze- enchanted with protection charms. I put it inside; taking the ticket that pops out once it's locked and waiting for the rune to glow orange before turning back to him. I feel his intense eyes on me the entire time and I start to become uncomfortable by it. Why is he staring at me like that? I have the urge to check my hair, my face… to make sure there is nothing embarrassing on them.

"Where's Nadia?" he asks. His deep voice seems so out of place here… with me.

"What?" I ask as I drop his ticket. I don't even bother looking at him as I quickly pick it up.

"The woman who used to work here…. Where is she?"

"Oh," I say. "She still works here…She doesn't come in until four, though," I answer as I walk back, realizing mid step that I'm not wearing my shoes. I curse under my breath. Malfoy, of all people, has seen me break so many rules already. I look at him to gauge his reaction… but he's turned my notebook around and has his head bent towards the page.

He's reading it.

I inhale deeply and run over. "Here you go," I say in a fake pleasant voice as I thrust the ticket at him and close the notebook so he can't look at it anymore. "Have a good day."

I pull the book towards me… slowly, so he doesn't see the panic in my movements and realize how important it is to me. I gasp when he slams his hand on top of it, stopping me from picking it up. He leans over the counter and narrows his eyes.

"You spelled enlightened wrong," he says, that sadistic smirk curling at the corner of his mouth.

I've seen him give that look before and I want no part of what will happen next.

I just want him to leave, but he doesn't move. No amount of money is worth having him look at me like that. In fact, I'd give him all the coins in my pocket if he'd just go away.

"I'm…" I don't know what I want to say.

I know I can't use my wand and I can't yell at him like my brother is want to do. I'm at work. This job pays me so much money to just stand around and hand people tickets. It's not fair that I could be fired if I call him a right bastard like he deserves. I just want him to let go of my freaking notebook! I grip the sides tightly so he will understand, but his hand stays firmly on the top of it, the silver of his watch catching the overhead light and shining.

"I'm sorry," I end up saying and it sounds weird because I don'tmean it and I didn't really want to apologize to him.

He's going on my hate list as well.

"You're sorry that you can't spell?"

"No," I say, indignant now. "I can spell."

"Spell enlightened, then."

"That was just a mess up because I was writing so fast– I don't need to explain myself to you-" I huff. "You had no right–"

"No right?" He raises his eyebrow, amused by the word. "Tell me what rights I don't have."

I swallow hard. I don't know what to do now so I do nothing and I say nothing.

He just keeps looking at me. I don't like it. I don't like the way his eyes dance over my face. My lips. My neck. My chest and all the way down my body to my bare feet. Working here had made me nearly invisible and I was comfortable with that. When you work a job like this, most of the people are passively rude or they ignore you completely. You're just another nameless, faceless person in service to their needs. The few that do talk to you don't really give a damn about who you are, anyways. You're just a prop for their own musings, a mirror to reflect their goodness…a sounding board for their thoughts and feelings because they know you could never challenge them… but Malfoy saw me. He was downright staring and studying like he was trying to figure something out… like I was something to dissect. Like I was something to trap and kill and eat for lunch.

I feel myself blushing again and for the first time I was all too aware of my homemade clothes and cheap jewelry.

Why did he have to look at me like that?

"Please, give it back," I plead. I hate that I'm begging but I feel so out of place and I just want my damn notebook. He taps his fingers against the hard cover as I look at the logo on his blue polo. Name brand. Of course. Designer. Of course. Pretentious. Of course.

He lets go and I take the opportunity to snatch it up. I hold it against my chest and turn slightly away from him so he can't see the relief I feel. The awful music swirls around us… a saxophone and keyboard playing together to make something unpleasant just like this moment I seem to be stuck in.

I need him to go away now.

"I've seen you before," he says. A part of me is glad he can't place me and another part thinks it's actually really rude that he doesn't remember who the hell I am when his father was the reason I nearly died. "What's your name?" he asks as he eyes the blue ribbon on my wrist. I almost wish I had a yellow ribbon now, or even a red one so he wouldn't even bother to speak to me. "I can easily find out your name if you don't tell me, of course," he says, entitled.

"My name is Ginny," I say, staring at him in the same uncomfortable way he keeps staring at me.

"Ginny," he repeats and it sounds odd coming from his mouth. I don't like it. I would be perfectly content going through life never having him utter my name again.

His eyes settle on my hair and for a moment he looks thoughtful.

Then it happens.

I can see the recognition light up his face and he takes a step back. I wait for the snide comment or the hurtful jab, but none come. He reaches into his pocket and my heart leaps, thinking he's going for his wand… but instead he pulls out a few galleons and puts them on the counter.

"I've just decided something," he says quietly to himself and I raise my brows but do not question it. "See you later, Ginny," he says flatly before leaving me staring after him.

I inhale a deep, shaky breath, glad to be rid of him.

When he's gone, I grab my discarded quill from the floor and tuck it behind my ear then I slump back down in my usual pose. I glance at the clock as my stomach turns painfully. Time passes slowly again. The tick tick tick seems to taunt me as I wait for something to happen. I'm nervous that he will return with his friends and do something awful to me so I try not to think of it as I busy myself with pretending to clean the counter and helping the snobs that come to drop off or collect their things.

After a while, I glance at the four golden coins he left on the counter top. I haven't touched them yet. It felt wrong. It felt dirty and traitorous. I don't want his money. I know he's probably making fun of me right now. Telling his awful friends about how a Weasley is serving him. Ron's sister in a homemade dress hanging up coats for coins because her family can't afford anything worth having. What a joke. What a laugh. What a gas.

The more I think about it, the angrier I get.

I take the stupid coins and let them clatter to the floor, kicking them under the desk with my foot. Out of sight and out of mind. No traitor here. No blood money for me, thank you. I start chewing the blue ribbon on my wrist for an anxious moment before I realize that I actually do want the blood money. It's more than I had made in three days. I fall to my knees on the cold, hard floor and reach under the desk to retrieve them, crinkling my nose when I feel the dirt and dust bunnies missed by the cleaning crew.

"Ginny?" I hit my head on the counter when I jump in surprise and cuss under my breath at the pain. "Are you alright?" I grab the golden galleons from the dark and stuff them in my pocket. I stand up, rubbing the back of my head as Nadia walks to the counter from the employee's door to the right. "Why were you on the floor?"

"I dropped something."

"Alrighty," she says, lifting the gate to come to my side of the counter and putting her purse in the cubby underneath the desk. "You seem stressed out," she says, letting her eyes linger on my notebook that I'm still holding. "Everything okay?"

"Everything is fine," I say, taking out my bag and stuffing my notebook and quill inside. "Just another day in paradise."

She snorts at that.

"Randy is sick again," she says with a sigh after a moment's pause. "Doctor says he has some kind of bacterial thing in his lungs…" I tell her that I'm sorry for it, but I don't actually care because that means I'll probably have to cover her schedule this coming week. I had to trade her shifts today so she could go to the doctor's and once I had to work twelve hours straight because she didn't show up. I think that was the time Randy had his first cold sore.

Nadia is in her early twenties and has two young kids that she supports after their dad ran off on them. It's hard, she always tells me, being a young, single mother. A part of me feels bad for her and then another part is annoyed that so many people here let her get away with things just because they feel so bad for her. It doesn't seem fair. No one feels bad for me. I get in trouble all the time. I was late by five minutes one time and Delsia wrote me up! I can't tell you the last time Nadia got called out for her behavior by anyone.

One of her boys is always sick and she is always calling off at the last minute…. but it seems to always coincide with an early morning Saturday or Sunday shift where she comes in late smelling of booze and smoke….

But she needs this job, she constantly complains.

It's easy money with a flexible schedule and she gets to meet rich and powerful men. One day she hopes to catch one for herself and live a life similar to Mrs. Randolph. A life of leisure and never-ending bank notes…. Vacations, diamonds, and fur coats on a yacht. She was pretty enough, I suppose. Slender and blonde haired with a nice figure… In another lifetime she would have been set for life with a face like hers, but she trusted the wrong guy and got in too deep too early. It was a shame that motherhood didn't mature her at all and she is putting all her hopes and dreams into a man that didn't even exist.

She knew how to take care of a man, she had told me when I asked why she just didn't go back to school to get a degree. She just didn't know how to keep them, apparently.

I pull my plaid rain cloak from the rack behind the sliding doors. Another hand me down from my mother's time as a young woman- but I actually like this one. It was vintage- not ratty. I could pull it off as a fashion statement instead of the thrifted monstrosities I was usually stuck with.

Nadia smooths down her tight pink dress and picks a few stray hairs off to flick on the ground.

She takes off her rain boots and slips into a pair of dangerously high stilettos that make her already inappropriate dress look a bit too risqué for the check-out counter. She gets more tips than I do because of her outfits and she knows how to flirt and flatter the patrons. I'm embarrassingly bad at it…. Not that I would want to flirt with any of these pompous peacocks anyways. Most of them are gross old men and the other ones are Draco Malfoy.

"I think Simon is coming down with it too," she adds as she leans against the counter and files her nails. "He was up all night coughing and wheezing–"

"Oh, that's terrible," I say in mock sympathy as I sling my bag over my shoulder. "Bye, then!"

I go to leave but stop when she calls my name. I turn around and try not to huff. I really don't want to hear about all the mucus and vomit that's going to get her out of working on Sunday morning.

She's holding up my heels and she clicks the soles together.

"You might need these," she laughs.

Right.

I walk barefoot back to the counter and take them from her, slipping them on and speed walking out the employee exit before she can tell me one more thing about her children. Luna is waiting for me just outside the back entrance of the building, leaning against a dumpster in her purple waitressing uniform. She looks pleased about something… almost happy… and I narrow my eyes as she takes off her hat and twirls it with her fingers.

"Good shift?" I ask.

"It was a good one," she agrees in that soft voice of hers. We start walking towards the Apparition point just beyond the south gates. I throw up my hood to keep my hair from getting wet but Luna seems to welcome the rain and tilts her face up to the dark clouds overhead. "I fear I can't say the same about you," she says.

The shoes slip up and down my heel, making a weird suction noise when they get wet from all the puddles.

I hate them and I hate today.

"Not really," I say with a shrug, taking off the shoes and holding them in my right hand. To hell with it. The bricks underneath hurt my feet but the burning on my heel hurts worse. "Draco Malfoy came to my check-out counter. I had been doing such a good job of avoiding our classmates. Of course, he's the first one I have to actually talk to. Git that he is."

I tell her about the encounter… how strange and off putting it was. How disappointed I was in myself by my own lack of bravery when faced with him alone. She listens in silence, watching me from the corner of her eyes.

"He ate at the restaurant with a few of his friends," she says when we reach the blue flame sign that indicates a safe app zone. "There were about five of them."

"Was he in your section?" I ask as I take out my wand.

She shakes her head. "I guess he's dating Cho Chang." I make a face at that, not liking the pairing. "He just completed an internship at the Ministry," she says. The waitresses know the gossip on everyone at the club and talk to each other during food pick ups and bussing tables. It's completely wasted on Luna most of the time as she doesn't seem to care much for that kind of stuff. I would thrive in the dining hall. I like to know everything. "Just got back and Chang was all over him, apparently."

I've always kind of hated Cho for the little thing that happened between her and Harry. I know it's not fair, but sometimes I can't help but dislike a person who's better looking than me…. and nicer than me…. and smarter than me…. A person who my first crush ended up liking even though they were as dull as a plank of wood. It's a part of life, I guess. It doesn't help that she's impossibly kind to me as well. Always waving and saying hello. Always asking about my parents and brothers like she actually cared. Always being the most boring of boring people. It makes me hate her all the more.

"Well, I'm just waiting for him to say something to me," I say as I imagine what I would do if he did try to be mean to me. I would… do something. I'm sure of it.

"Why would he?"

"Because, you know," I start lamely and she keeps up with that stupid raised eyebrow. "Well, because he hates my brother and all that…"

"He doesn't hate you, though," she points out. "He doesn't even know you." She doesn't have any siblings. She doesn't understand that the rule is if a member of your family hates someone… then you are obligated to hate them as well. "And you said he didn't do anything bad to you."

"Yet," I state bitterly and she smiles.

"Be optimistic," she says as she pats my shoulder. "By the end of the summer you'll have that money saved. You can go into year six knowing that you'll finally be able to afford that retreat. Eye on the prize, right?"

"Yeah," I say and then I sigh. "I just hate seeing people our age at this place," I say as I look back at the grand building made of limestone and marble and gold. Envy pooling in my stomach. The amount I need to save up is probably a daily allowance for some of the girls that come to Folk Hills every day to swim, and play, and hang out. "It just makes me feel bad."

"The only difference is that we have to make our own opportunities," she says with a smile. "And we have better personalities," she adds seriously and I laugh.

I wave at Luna as she lifts her wand. "See you tomorrow."

"Tood-a-loo!" she waves and disappears with a pop!

I look back at Folk Hills as the rain beats down on my head. It's a looming presence against the darkened sky. A tall, Edwardian Great House that once belonged to a single family when a few held all the wealth and rest were… well, like me and my family. I frown at that and lift my wand. No use getting mad over things I have no control over. I apparate to a safe zone in the fields outside of the Burrow and look up at my home with a sigh. I wish we were rich, important, and powerful… I wish a lot of stupid things but like my dad always says "love is more precious than gold."

I just wish we had both.

Is that too much to ask?

I enter our ward key at the gate and walk towards the lopsided house held up by magic and a prayer with my head down and thoughtful. My bare feet slip into puddles and my toes squish into the mud as I walk to the front door.

Mum's in the kitchen when I get inside and she smiles at me as I shake the rain off my cloak.

"Did you have a good day at work?" she asks as I throw the heels into the corner and let my bag thump to the ground. I look down at my muddy feet with a sigh as I unclasp the cloak.

"Sure," I mumble because that's what I always say.

I put the cloak in the hall closet and then tie my hair up in a messy bun to get it off my neck. Mum's whisking something in a bowl and her apron is covered in flour. I take a seat at the table and watch her for a moment. The house smells divine and my stomach growls loudly at the thought of it even though I can't figure out what the smell is exactly. There are so many pleasing aromas battling for dominance that I can't decide which one I like best.

"I'm starving," I say as I grab an apple, ignoring the look she gives me as I take a bite.

"Dinner is almost ready," she scolds me. "If you just wait a minute."

"What are we having?" I ask as she turns to the sink and pushes thick, auburn hair from her eyes

"Oh, you know, the usual."

The usual?

The usual doesn't smell like this.

I narrow my eyes and then walk over to the stove. She has a few pots heated on top of it. Mashed potatoes, green beans, corn casserole, glazed carrots…. On the countertop in a basket is a loaf of freshly baked bread still warm from the oven and a few buttered rolls. Meat pie…. Cornish pasties and… I bend down to check the oven… there's some kind of meat roasting in there…

Why is she making so much food?

"Will you be a dear and get the butter from the fridge?"

"Are Fred and George here?" I ask and she shakes her head.

I take another bite of the apple and give her a suspicious look.

"Are you making biscuits?" I ask as she dumps some chocolate chips into her mixing bowl.

"The butter, Gin," she says, impatiently.

I go over to the fridge. "Holy hell," I whisper as I open it up. There has to be ten different containers of food. Salads… cold pastas… cut up fruit….Her homemade special occasion dressing… The ice box is practically overflowing as well… "Good Lord..."

Wait…. All this food…. That means….

I grab the butter and put it on the counter before running to my brother's room, taking the stairs two at a time in my haste to get there. I pause a moment outside his door to smooth down my dress nervously, trying to catch my breath. They don't need to know how excited I am. I bring my hands up to fix my hair, making a face at the messy bun. That won't do. I take the tie out and let my hair fall, brushing it out with my fingers in an attempt to tame it and pulling it all over one shoulder.

I give the hallway mirror a quick glance, fixing my eyeliner a bit before knocking on the door.

"Eh, Mum, they're not hungry. Just back off a little, would you?"

"Ron, it's Ginny."

I put my hand on the door knob and pop it open. Ron's sitting on the bed, looking irritated with me but I don't care. I'm not here to see him, anyways. Hermione is sitting on the desk chair with a newspaper open on her lap and she smiles when she sees me. Harry… Harry is staring at me from his spot by the window, the sky behind him gray and lifeless. I have to look away, hoping the blush doesn't creep to my cheeks like it always seems to when he's around. I've decided that I will no longer like Harry Potter in that way anymore… Well, I won't let anyone know that I like him in that way. My crush on him was starting to get pathetic and even Dean pointed it out when we were dating last year.

Are you ever going to get over him? He had said. He doesn't even know you're alive.

"I feel like I haven't seen you in months," I say to Hermione as she gets up to give me a hug. Ron makes an annoyed noise, but I don't care because Hermione is my friend too no matter what he thinks.

"Wow, Gin. You look pretty," she says as she stands back and looks at the dress my mother had made me.

"Thanks," I say, pleased that she would say so. Malfoy had made me feel so self-conscious- I welcomed the compliment. "I just got off work… they make us dress up," I explain with a shrug and I glance at Harry out of the corner of my eye. He was looking at me, but when he saw that I noticed, he snapped his eyes away. What was that all about? "How was your trip?" I ask as I focus back on my friend.

"It was—"

"Ginny, they haven't even been here an hour," Ron says hatefully. "Would you please go away so I can have some time with my friends? Okay? Thank you."

He stands up as if he meant to push me out of the room.

"Okay, jeez," I say as I put my hands up and try not to be embarrassed. These are his friends first and foremost and I would hate it if he did this to me if the situations were reversed. So, I guess I understand. "I've got stuff to do anyways," I lie.

"We'll talk later, Gin," Hermione says, giving me a kind smile before glaring at Ron. "I put my stuff in your room already."

I look at Harry to say goodbye. He's looking at my feet and I look down as well… realizing how dirty I still was because of those damn uncomfortable heels. This time I can't help but blush.

He doesn't even know you're alive, Dean had said… but he sure as hell noticed my muddy toes.

"I'll see you guys at dinner," I say quickly, closing the door as I leave so Ron can't shut it in my face.

Stupid Ginny. I crinkle my nose at my muddy feet and take one more bite out of the apple before realizing I'm not that hungry after all. I go back down stairs to pitch it and see my mum checking the meat with the oven door open.

"What time did they get here?" I ask, tossing the half eaten apple in the bin.

"Not long ago," she answers, oven mitts on both hands. "They were supposed to come tomorrow but plans changed."

Of course, no one tells me anything.

"Can I help you?" I offer. I resist telling on Ron for being a bitch even though I want to. He's such a prat sometimes. "Need me to grab you anything?"

"I've got it covered, sweetheart," she says as she gives me a knowing smile that I do not like. "Why don't you go get cleaned up? I'll call you down."

She doesn't have to tell me twice. I go back upstairs to take a quick shower, watching the muddy water swirl down the drain as I wash my hair and scrub my face. With the arrival of Hermione and Harry, I can't help but think of my encounter with Malfoy again. What would they have done if they were caught off guard by him like I was? I bet they would have done a whole lot more than I did…. But Harry Potter didn't need to get a job… neither did Hermione. They were pretty much taken care of and they would never have to censor themselves for the sake of money.

Ugh.

I don't like that thought so I try to shake it away. I wash my neck and my body as I think of Harry- how handsome he looks now and how every year he seems to get better looking. That's the funny thing about boys. While girls use potions, creams, and makeup to look attractive… guys just wake up and they look perfect.

Why is that?

Harry's hair is a bit longer than I remember. Jet black and as messy as ever. His skin is slightly tanned like he had been outside more this summer than the previous and his eyes are such a vibrant, emerald green that they don't even look real.

I bite my lower lip.

How does one get to be so nice, and famous, and brave… and still look like he does?

Doesn't seem fair.

I turn off the water and step onto the cold tile floor as the steam rises around me. I like my showers hot, almost scalding, and my body has the red splotches to prove it. I run my palm over the mirror so I can see my reflection and sigh loudly. Without makeup on I look young… like a child. My eyebrows and eyelashes are lighter than my hair and my skin isn't nearly as beautiful as Harry's. I grab an old towel from the closet to dry myself off and try to forget about all the things I lack. It's pink and scratchy… One that I don't really like all that well but all the towels in the closet are pretty shitty so there's no point trying for another one.

Maybe that's something I'll ask my mum to get me for Christmas. New fluffy towels like the ones they have at Folk Hills. That's doable.

I wrap the pink towel around my body so I can go to my room, grabbing a small hand towel on the way to dry my hair. I open the door. The cold air of the hallway hits me as steam billows out. I blink against it before walking towards my room, lost in thought as I scrunch my hair up with the hand towel to get rid of the excess water.

"Sorry."

I look up at the muttered word and see Harry right in front me. He looks… uncomfortable? The towel covers more than a swim suit does so I'm not sure why he looks so bashful.

"Sorry," I say back awkwardly. Why do I feel the need to apologize to all these guys? He doesn't say anything. He just stares at me for a moment before looking away like something bothered him. "Um, Harry," I say and his green eyes flick to mine in surprise. "You're standing in front of my door."

"Oh," he moves quickly. "Right."

I give him a tight smile… one that feels weird on my face…. before opening my door and shutting it behind me. My heart seems to be racing now. Why is that? I can hear him on the other side of my door. He doesn't move for a moment and then he says a whispered curse word before his footsteps take him down the hall. I make a face at my door, trying to understand why things feel so different between us. It's not like he's nice to me… well, I mean... it's not that he's not nice to me. He just doesn't talk to me… or acknowledge me most of the time. In fact, he's kind of like the patrons at Folk Hills. He's polite when he needs to be but other than that he doesn't give a fuck.

I just like having him around, despite him acting like I don't exist most of the time.

The world seems a little safer when he's near. The brave and formidable wizard who fought you-know-who and defeated him on more than one occasion? How can one not find comfort in his presence?

I throw the wet towels over my bedpost and then gather up some clean clothes to put on.

I'm not going to think about it anymore.

I have decided to not like him, remember?

I pull on fresh underwear and a trusty sports bra. It's the only one I have…a black one that I usually save to play quidditch in and bought off a clearance rack with my own money. All my other bras are boring and uncomfortable. All beige and white in color and bought in a pack in the children's section. I heard someone say that a well fitted bra could change your life but I wouldn't know anything about that. I just know my breasts have gotten bigger but my mom still seems to think my non-padded training bras are just fine to hold everything in.

I dig through my bottom drawer for a pair of shorts, frowning when I don't find the ones I want. I look at the pile of clothes in the corner of my room and see them peeking out from the bottom. I throw wet hair over my shoulder as I dig them out, slipping them on with a shimmy and a shake. They're tight. Another thing I've grown out of but refuse to let go of.

Someone knocks on the door.

"Come in," I say as I struggle to button them.

Hermione opens the door.

"Oh," she says before clearing her throat. "I didn't know you were still changing."

"Hey," I greet as I lay down on the bed and suck in so I can push the button through the hole.

"You could have told me to wait a second," she laughs as she shuts the door behind her. "What if Harry was with me?"

I snort. "Harry isn't coming to my room," I say with an eye roll, sitting up once I get the zipper to pull up. Victory. "And I'm hardly indecent."

She sits down on my bed with her newspaper under her arm, watching me as I go over to my chest of drawers. Warped from water damage after being left exposed in a drafty attic, the furniture came from my grandma's house and the drawers sometimes stick.

"Have you been having a good summer?" she asks as she watches me throw more clothes onto the pile in the corner. I have to slam the drawer to get it to close before going to the next one and yanking it open with a jerk. I am not a dirty person… but I am a messy one, which annoys Hermione to no end. "Ginny, honestly. You don't need to be throwing clothes about." She stands up and starts folding some of the discarded shirts. Leaving them in a neat pile on the top of my vanity "If you clean the messes as you make them then it won't be so overwhelming."

"Okay, Mum," I say with an eye roll.

I love Hermione. I really do. She's sweet, kind, and so incredibly smart. I especially love that she takes it upon herself to clean my room every time she comes to visit.

"Did you get into any trouble yet?" I ask as I pull a Holyhead Harpies shirt over my head after I find it tucked in the back of the drawer. It's dark green like a certain wizard's eyes and it has a screen-printed yellow harpy talon on the front.

She laughs as she straightens the papers on my bedside table and then she makes quick work of making my bed before sitting on top of the blankets.

"Not yet," she says with a shrug. "After being around magic, staying with my parents is really boring."

"I can imagine." I lay down beside her and stare up at the ceiling where the plaster is starting to flake in the corners. "Don't your parents work on teeth or something?"

She nods. "They're dentists," she says, lying beside me and handing me the brush she found under my pillow. "Clean teeth and fill cavities… that kind of thing."

"That sounds kind of interesting, actually," I say, trying to imagine it as I tuck a stuffed animal behind my head as a pillow. "Think they'd give my teeth a cleaning one time?"

"I doubt you'd like it," she says with a smile. "It's a lot more invasive than your dental charms."

"Hm," I say, thoughtful.

I take her hint with the brush and I sit up to pull it through my hair.

"You want to know something?" I glance at her, brushing my hair so roughly that she makes a face and tells me to calm down. "After you left the room, Harry said it looked like you had gotten a haircut."

"I haven't gotten a haircut."

"I know," she says with a sly smile, taking the brush out of my hands when she deems me too violent. "But in Harry world, I think that's him noticing that you've grown up."

"It doesn't matter," I sigh even though I am pleased. "I don't think I really like Harry like that anymore." I don't want her thinking I'm pining after him. Even though she is my friend- I know some of what I say has to get back to Harry.

The newspaper crunches against the bed when she stands up to put the brush in a place she thinks it belongs.

"What are you reading?" I ask, grabbing the paper.

"Oh, you know me. Always keeping up on current affairs," she jokes as she tries to snatch it back.

I give her a look and fold the paper to my chest to keep it away from her.

"Give it back," she warns.

"This is the society section," I tell her with an amused smile when I realize what it is. I look over the gossip columns and paparazzi photos with a smirk. "Current affairs, indeed."

"It's good to be knowledgeable about all things," she says, sitting beside me again with an embarrassed blush on her cheeks. "I wasn't born into magic like you," she explains as I flip through the pages. "I like knowing the names of well known people and what they're doing."

I stop when I see a picture of a group of girls dressed in white fancy dresses, smiling demurely at the camera. Hermione makes a disgusted noise at my shoulder.

"Why is she in the paper?" she asks, pointing to Pansy Parkinson who stands at the center of the photo with large, white flowers in her hair.

I skim the article underneath the photo.

"She's coming out soon, I imagine," I answer as I fold the paper over and hand it back to her.

I don't want to see pictures of the girls I'll never be friends with living a life I'll never have.

"What does that mean?"

I scrunch up my nose.

"It's a stupid tradition. When wealthy pureblooded girls turn seventeen they have to be 'introduced' into society so guys know they can be married," I say, remembering what Mum had said on the matter. After all, she was introduced when she was seventeen too. "They have a ball for it and everything."

"How old fashioned," she says. "Do they really get married that young?"

"I don't think so," I say with a shrug. "I think it's just an excuse to throw a huge party and spend a lot of money on stuff that doesn't matter."

"Hm," she hums thoughtfully before her eyes light up. "Ron says we can go to Yellow Springs tomorrow," she says excitedly, changing the subject as she puts the paper on the table. "Do you want to come with us? I hear it is supposed to be beautiful in the summer. I've read all about it. The monster they say lives in the lake is supposed to be bigger than the giant squid at Hogwarts!"

"I would love to go." I smile at her. "I don't know anything about monsters, but it is fun."

As long as Ron doesn't pout the entire time.

My mum calls us down for dinner, her loud voice amplified with magic to reach every room in the house. I find a clip to get the hair off of my neck and then Hermione and I go down stairs as I twist it into place. Ron and Harry are already at the table. Their plates are full and Mum is spooning more glazed carrots onto Harry's overflowing plate.

"What a spread, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione admires as she sits beside Ron.

Mum puts the buttered rolls in front of her and comments on how skinny she looks. My mom never seems to say I'm looking too skinny but she is obsessed with making sure Hermione and Harry eat their fill and more.

"It's nothing, dear," she says with a warm smile when Hermione thanks her for the food. "I like cooking for the people I love."

I give my mum a smile. She is a kind woman… a mother everyone could ever want. I glance at Harry as I sit across from him, but he's looking steadily down at his fork. I frown before picking up my plate and spooning some mashed potatoes on it. I grab the gravy boat and my hand brushes Harry's as he reaches for the bread. His eyes snap to mine again before looking away.

Odd.

I spend the rest of the night trying not to stare at Harry Potter and trying not to notice that he's trying not to stare at me as my mum and Hermione fill the silence in between.

---

Yellow Springs is a posh little village located by a rather large lake. It serves as a vacation retreat for those with means and it has a nice boardwalk with fun shops, mechanical rides, and street entertainers that come specifically for the summer months. I'm a little excited to go, actually. We didn't get a chance last year and for once I'm not stuck at Folk Hills.

In fact, I haven't done anything besides work this entire summer now that I think about it.

"Where do you work?" Harry asks me as the four of us walk towards the village.

It's about a twenty minute walk and I'm glad that I spent time getting ready considering Harry has taken it upon himself to be so uncomfortably close to me the entire time.

"You mentioned… having a job?" he says awkwardly.

Hermione and Ron are a good deal ahead of us, arguing about something stupid. Ron is throwing his hand up and Hermione crosses her arms in annoyance. What now? They are always squabbling. I squint my eyes against the sun as it beats down on us. It is terribly hot today. A heat wave has been moving in from the south, making life miserable for pale skinned, thick haired people like me. Unforgiving and humid… it makes my hair curl and I make a face because I'm sweating already. The feeling of it trickling down my back and in between my breasts is just… gross… I reach into my purse and pull out a pair of sunglasses, sighing when I notice the frame is slightly bent.

"Ginny?" Harry asks softly as I try to fix them. My heart does a strange summersault when I look to find him staring so intently at me. The sun catches his green eyes just right, making them shine. I swallow hard and look away, putting on my crooked glasses and pushing them up the bridge of my nose. "Ron said you had a job at some club?"

"Yeah," I nod. Every time I move I can catch the scent of my deodorant working hard. Lavender fields, indeed. "All I do is baby-sit cloaks and purses for snobby jerks. It's nothing to write home about."

"Hey," he says with a shoulder shrug as he stuffs his hands into the pockets of his cargo shorts. "At least you're getting paid for it, right?"

"At least," I say with a little smile.

I can't believe he's actually speaking to me unprovoked like this but how annoying because I've already decided I was done with him. A silent pause rests between us and I put my hands in the pockets of my shorts, matching his awkward movements as I try to think of something worthwhile to say.

"Have you been having a good time at your Aunt and Uncle's?"

He clears his throat uncomfortably.

"It's been fine. You know my Aunt and Uncle are mental," he says and I furrow my brows before it dawns on me. Of course. His family has always been so cruel to him and it was stupid of me to bring up.

"I'm sorry," I say, feeling foolish. He looks at me again as we pass under the wrought iron sign that marks the Village of Yellow Springs. "I shouldn't have…"

"It's okay," he says quickly and then he gives me a little smile. "I'm lucky I have your family to balance it out."

We look at each other for a moment. How strange the feeling that passes between us. How confusing.

"Ginny!" I look at Hermione, grateful for the distraction as she waves for me to come near. "Do you want some ice cream first? I've been craving it all summer. My parents never let me have sweets."

"I'm hungry too," Ron says. He has a quaffle under one arm, a beat up red leather one from Charlie's glory days.

"You're always hungry," Harry says and I laugh. I could swear his cheeks turned a bit red but he turned away so fast I didn't get a proper look.

An old man riding a powder blue bicycle rides past us. Attached to the front is a large refrigerated box that has a menu and painted ice cream cones on the side that says Sidney's Sweet Treats in loopy pink letters. A large speaker attached to his handlebars plays a tinkling tune to call attention to himself.

"Hey!" Ron jogs after him and tries to flag him down. "Hey guy!"

The old man stops when my harassing brother catches up with him and he parks his bike off to the side. He takes a moment to open his little red umbrella and then he takes off his white hat to wipe the sweat off his brow. He's practically dripping with it. The white and blue striped shirt he's wearing has pit stains and a large swamp pooling on his back.

Poor guy.

"What can I get ya?" he asks, slightly breathless. His name tag says Sid.

Sid of Sidney's Sweet Treats, I bet.

"Give me a minute," My brother says, bending down to read off of the menu. "Ah, you've got blackberry." He stands straight and digs into his pocket to grab money. "I'll have a strawberry blackberry swirl cone dipped in chocolate with rainbow sprinkles. Double… no. Make it a triple scoop."

I make a face. I hate fruity ice cream. Fruit had no business ruining a treat like that. The man opens the top of his freezer box and the cold air hits the humid heat, making white smoke rise up. It's deeper than it looks and the man nearly disappears inside of it as he digs down deep with his waist half way gone.

I take a few steps back and turn around, opening my purse. My tips from working are in a purple coin purse at the bottom rolling around with my lip gloss and a few random receipts. I bite the inside of my cheek as I decide what I want to do while Hermione orders her double scoop peanut butter ice cream with chocolate chunks in a cup.

Do I need ice cream right now?

I ate lunch before we came and I'm really not that hungry. It's just a waste of money at this point. I sigh sadly as I close my purse. The more money I save, the quicker I'll reach my goal for the retreat. Eye on the prize, Ginny.

"What would you like, Gin?" Hermione asks over her shoulder.

"I'm not hungry," I tell her as I kick a pebble with my sandal. Pouting at how practical I am. "I'm going to window shop," I say as I turn away. "I'll catch up with you guys later."

I gather my thick hair and tie it up in a ponytail when I feel the sweat on the back of my neck. My hair is way too thick to be down today- I don't know what I was thinking.

Ice cream would cool me down.

No.

I need the money.

I walk along the boardwalk, keeping my head down and trying not to run into anyone so I can peek into the shops. It's crowded today. Half naked bodies walk up and down the wooden planks playing games and riding the rides that cost a small fortune for a ticket. I glance inside a clothing store, finding a safe spot to stand away from the crowd at the corner of an alleyway. The shop sells tie dyed shirts and airbrushed dresses that look tacky and fun. I want one in every style, please. I smirk at the thought and push the crooked sunglasses to the top of my head. In the window glass I can see the lake in the distance behind me… It's green murky water gently rippling as the boats and jet skis pass over it. I wonder what monster would reside in such a lake. One that didn't mind commotion and deep-fried food, I bet.

"Please, Ivy. You can't honestly think he really wanted to play chess when he invited you over."

I know that voice and I look to my right to see Pansy Parkinson and her little sister standing a few feet away from me in front of one of the jewelry shops. Ivy is my age and she is equally as vicious in temperament as her older sister, though she doesn't have the looks to back it up. We've gotten into more than one fight during the school year because of her mouth and I duck behind the corner of the shop so she won't see me.

"When a boy goes out of his way to buy you dinner, you know what he wants…"

"Ginny," I turn around and see Harry holding two chocolate ice cream cones. "I didn't know what flavor you wanted, so I just went with the safest option."

Did he see me going through my purse and just assumed I couldn't afford it?

"Harry… I…." I open my purse and start digging through it. So much for saving some money. "Let me pay you back," I tell him quickly as I pull out the purple coin purse. I know my family isn't well off and I know Harry has given my brothers money in the past….but I don't like him thinking he has to do that for me. "I have the money."

"No, I don't want you to pay me," he says quickly. I take the cone that he offers me because the ice cream is starting to melt all over his hands. "Just…. Just eat it," he says quickly.

He turns on his heels and walks away from me before I can even say thank you.

"What was that all about?" I whisper to myself.

I watch him as he makes his way back to my brother and Hermione. His movements are stiff and awkward and when he gets to the others, he places his hand on the back of his neck and shrugs his shoulders.

The ice cream is melting all over my hand and it's starting to slide down my arm. I lick the cream off my skin and follow the trails it makes all the way to my fingers. I'm lapping it up like a dog and of course I have no napkins to help. I glance around me to see if there's anything I can grab… but I end up making eye contact with Pansy and Ivy Parkinson.

They're both looking right at me and Pansy even smiles a little. The mocking tilt of her lips makes me think of the odd encounter with Malfoy and I look away, embarrassed.

I put my sunglasses down as I walk towards my brother, trying to ignore the prickling on the back of my neck.

"What should we do first?" Hermione asks excitedly as she finishes off her ice cream and dumps a napkin and her empty bowl in one of the bins nearby. She doesn't look messy at all. I can feel the sticky chocolate on my skin and it's getting everywhere. Where did she get that napkin? I look around for the ice cream man, but he's already gone. "There are so many people here."

I keep licking around the cone, trying to beat the heat as it continues to drip all over me in a soupy mess. Now it's on my shirt too… the white shirt I borrowed from Hermione. Great. I try to rub it out but it just makes a big brown wet spot on my chest. I catch Harry looking at me again and his cheeks look flushed as I dip my tongue into the ice cream cone to scoop more out.

"We could go on the Ferris Wheel first," I offer, looking a right mess.

Ron makes a face because he hates that ride.

"Let's go to the beach," he overrules me and of course Hermione and Harry agree with him. My fourth wheel status is official again. They all start walking that way and I frown before following them, throwing my ice cream cone in the bin as I trail behind, giving up on it.

"That's a cool statue," Harry points out as I wipe my hands on my shorts.

The beach has a large statue of Poseidon coming out from the lake. His trident and right hand resting on the wet sand. It's a big monstrosity made out of sandstone and covered in bird poop. I don't know why, but Yellow Springs has been trying to develop itself into a 'beach' like resort even though the lake isn't nearly as spectacular as the sea.

"Yeah, it's based on the guy who founded the town," Ron says.

Idiot.

"No, it's not," I tell him, blinking at his stupidity.

"Yes, it is," he says hatefully and I roll my eyes, choosing not to fight him on it when he is so obviously wrong.

I take off my sandals once we reach the sand and walk towards the water so I can clean off my hands.

"Oh, Ron," Hermione shakes her head. "It's so hot today," she changes the subject just to save face for him like she always does. She rolls up her jeans and walks ankle deep into the water after taking off her trainers.

It's bloody boiling outside and she decided to wear jeans and tie up shoes. She isn't always the smartest witch in the room, apparently.

"It's actually quite lovely out here," Hermione comments as a boat passes in the distance with a guy parasailing off the back. I bend down and dip my arms in the water. "If it wasn't so crowded I'd say it was almost peaceful."

I look over my shoulder as Harry takes off his shirt. Being the savior of the wizarding world has done wonders for his body. He's no longer the bony, thin boy I was first introduced to. He was almost a man now and had the well defined muscles to prove it. I look away quickly, realizing I'm staring longer than I should.

"You're drooling," Hermione says and she laughs when I give her a look. "He has gotten better looking, hasn't he?" she says, glancing at the boys as they pass the quaffle back and forth.

I actually don't know who she's talking about. Harry or Ron… I know how much she likes my brother even though she tries to hide it. I'd try to hide it too if I had a crush on such a moron.

"He's always been good looking," I whisper. "Unfortunately," I add for my own benefit.

Hermione bends down to put her hands in the water and I chance a glance over my shoulder again, letting the glasses slide down the tip of my nose so I can get a better look.

Ron throws the quaffle too high and Harry has to jump to get it. He lands hard on the sand and laughs, a deep and pleasing laugh. Ron helps him to his feet and then he looks at me, a beautiful smile breaking his face that I can't help but return.

I guess I will never get over Harry Potter.

Damn him.

"Did you know there is an actual spring at Yellow Springs?" Hermione says, arching an eyebrow when I look at her. "It's supposed to be somewhere off that path we saw when we came in."

"I've heard of it," I say distractedly.

"Have you ever been there?" I look at Harry again. He throws the ball to my brother who fumbles it. "Ginny?"

"No," I shake my head. "I haven't."

"They say it has magical properties. Like healing or something," she says, trying to catch my eyes. "Want to go with me to find it? I thought we could gather some of the water and test it," she says as she pulls a corked vial from her bag. "It shouldn't be too far in the woods."

"Yeah," I say, looking at my brother and Harry who are having a good time without us. "Yeah, let's go."

I put my sandals back on and follow Hermione away from the beach and back over the boardwalk where jugglers on unicycles ride around and candy venders are making fantastical designs out of the candy floss that they hand to squealing children. Past the Ferris Wheel and the spinning carousel there is a dirt path that leads into the wooded hillside away from the lake and the business of the shoreline.

Hermione takes out a book from her bag, opening it to a map that she follows without looking to see if I'm still with her.

"Shouldn't be too far in," she mumbles to herself as we pass the tree line.

The woods are oddly quiet… a big change from the crowded boardwalk where people were loud and pushy. A bird flies overhead and I look around at the tall trees, annoyed that I didn't bring better shoes for such a hike as bugs come out to bite my legs.I glare at Hermione with her jeans and trainers. She knew full well she wanted to go here and didn't tell me.

"I doubt the spring has any magic," I say as I watch the back of her bushy hair that she tried to tame with a headband. "If it did- I'm sure they'd try to make money off of it."

"I know," she says, looking back at me and seemingly annoyed that I can't keep up in my flip flops. If she knew we were going to do this- she could have warned me. "But it said it helps with skin issues."

"Skin issues?" I ask as I climb the rocky hillside at her urging.

"Yeah," She nods and then stops at the top. "I have this stubborn pimple I'd like to get rid of," she says and when I look at her she points to the spot I didn't even notice on her chin. "It's been bothering me all week."

"I didn't even see it."

"You don't have to worry about stuff like that," she says as I hop down in front of her and follow the trail that starts again beyond the jagged rocks. "You've always had perfect skin."

I snort. "Hardly," I disagree but I stop when I hear voices. "Are we close?" I ask, glancing at Hermione as she takes out her book again.

"Maybe some campers," she mumbles as she walks towards the trees and finds a stairway made of rocks that lead down a sharp incline.

I walk along beside her, cautious of the noise and aware I didn't bring my wand as we come upon the spring at the bottom, almost hidden by a few bushy trees. The water is coming from an opening in the natural stone wall and it pools along the ground. The rocks around it are an odd yellow orange color that Hermione informs me is due to the oxidized iron in the water. A real yellow spring, if you will.

"Found it," Hermione whispers, pleased with herself as she takes the vial from her bag again.

Before she steps forward, we hear the voices again and then someone comes out from the right side of the spring. They don't notice us at first and I gulp when I realize it's Pansy Parkinson and her sister. Hermione physically recoils at my side, but I can't stop staring. She's wearing a red lacy bra and she takes off her tiny shorts revealing matching knickers. She steps into the spring water as Ivy pulls her dress over her head.

Hermione turns around. She just up and leaves without a word and I go to turn too, but something in the air changes and I look back at the spring to find Pansy Parkinson staring at me. She says nothing. She just looks at me as she holds her hands under the spring and then runs the water over her arms and chest.

"What are you doing?" Ivy notices me and she steps back to cover herself with her dress. She digs into her pocket and pulls out her wand. "You're such a pervert, Weasley."

"Put your wand away," Pansy says, rolling her eyes. She doesn't even bother covering herself. Confident in her skin, she levels me with another dark eyed look. "It's not like she knew we were down here. Did you?" she asks me, raising a well manicured eyebrow. "Did you follow us down here?"

"No," I say quickly.

I turn and walk away, not waiting for a reply. My heart is beating incredibly fast and I find Hermione on the rocky hill not much farther away.

"You ditched me," I say when I catch up with her.

"Sorry," she says, giving me an apologetic look. "It's just Pansy…"

"Yeah," I nod my head as we walk back towards the village, our steps a little too fast. "I know she's horrible. Are you okay?"

"Just a shock seeing her, is all," Hermione said. "And wearing such sexy underwear."

I laugh at that. So does she. Why was she wearing underwear like that? Looked uncomfortable. We find Ron and Harry in line to buy tickets to the rides and when I announce that I only wanted to ride the Ferris Wheel both Ron and Hermione made faces.

"I'll ride it with you," Harry offers.

Well, okay then.

We buy our tickets that my brother says are "highway robbery" because of the price point. I agree with him but I resist complaining about it. Ron and Hermione go off to ride the carousel as Harry and I wait in line for the Ferris Wheel. Neither of us speak or look at each until it's our turn to get onto one of the carts. Ours is bright pink and has a large number twelve on the side.

"You can go first," I offer.

He steps forward and then stops.

"No, you can go first," he says like he just realized it was the gentlemanly thing to do.

"Oh," I step forward but then he steps forward at the same time, so I stop and step back but then he motions for me to go.

"One of you has to get on," the annoyed worker says and I just take the initiative and slide into the compartment.

Harry slides beside me and the worker closes the bar across our laps and checks to make sure it's locked. When the ride starts moving, I hold onto the bar and look out over the lake. The Ferris Wheel is large… Made even larger by magic that throws the carts into the sky to spin along the clouds before settling back on the metal brackets.

"This reminds me of a place I went to when I was kid," Harry says and I look away from the water to give him my attention. "Muggles have Ferris Wheels too."

"Oh," is all I say, aware of the proximity of his body to mine. To fill the silence, I debate whether I should tell him about seeing Pansy Parkinson in her skivvies but decide against it.

Harry goes to say something else to me, but then he gasps when the cart flings off of the brackets and takes off into the sky. He looks behind us, his arm over the back of the bench and along my shoulders as he looks down.

"I didn't know it did that," he says with a smile.

Harry wasn't afraid. He didn't whine like Ron did the last time we rode this together and I liked that about him. I liked that he was brave and found thrilling things fun because I did too. The cart moves along the clouds and he looks over the side, a boyish smile on his face as he marvels at the magic. Sometimes I forget some people aren't around it all the time… that they didn't grow up with it as a part of their lives. Magic was so ingrained in my life that it was hard for me to imagine a world without it.

The cart moves over the lake and I mention what Hermione had said about the monster that lived there. I doubt that's true. I've lived by Yellow Springs my whole life and never heard of it, but Hermione had a way of digging up old legends and finding the truth in them. Harry said that Hermione already told him all about it and we shared a laugh. The cart goes back to the metal wheel where it settles into the bracket, slowly moving in a clunky circle until it's time for us to get off.

It was only then that I realized Harry had kept his arm around my shoulders the entire time.

---

My alarm clock blares and I make an annoyed grunting noise as I reach over to my night stand to press the snooze button. I fumble around until I find it and sigh when the noise dies down. I settle back against my pillow, letting the warmness of sleep come back to me as I wrap myself up in my snuggly blankets.

"I hope you didn't press the snooze again," Hermione adds groggily from her cot on the floor. "I'm sick of waking up every five minutes. What time do you have to be at work anyways?" she asks with a yawn.

I crack one eye open and look at the clock.

Shit.

I jump up and turn on the light, ignoring the way Hermione groans as I run to my closet. I trip over her damn cot and fall hard on the ground, making the whole house shake.

"Everything okay up there?" My mother calls but I ignore her as I limp to my closet to find something suitable to wear.

I grab a blue dress and strip quickly, not even bothering with Hermione as I throw it over my head and zip it up the best I can. I grab the brush from my vanity and tug it through my hair as I run to the bathroom, trying to braid it quickly so it doesn't look like a complete mess. When I get to the loo, I try to open the door so I can brush my teeth and do my make up, but the door is locked and the shower is on. I kick the door with my foot, stubbing my toe in the process.

"I'm going to be late for work!" I snap. I knock on the door a few more times as I spy the time from the clock hanging in the hall. "Please. I'm going to be late."

I hear the water turn off as a few things clatter to the ground. I press my ear to the door when I hear a lot of awkward fumbling around.

"Ron?"

I step back when the door opens.

Steam hits my face and my eyes widen at the site of Harry, soaking wet with a towel wrapped around his hips. He's not wearing his glasses and his hair is plastered to his forehead and the side of his face. Now I understand why he looked so uncomfortable when he found me after my own shower the other day. It was strangely intimate… It made me think of what he might look like under that towel.

Oh, holy hell.

"I'm sorry," he says. I'm staring at his stomach. His muscles are well defined and there's a trail that leads all the way down to his…. "Sorry…" he mutters again before walking around me to go to my brother's room.

I ignore the feeling in my stomach and slip into the steamy bathroom to get ready. I slap on some makeup and brush my teeth, brushing way too hard and way too fast. I jump down the stairs and dig out the black heels from the shoe corner. I sprint to the Apparition point- realizing too late I left my bag in the kitchen with my wand. I nearly scream in frustration before turning and running back to the house only to find Mum waiting for me on the porch, holding my bag.

"Have a good day, Ginny," she says with a smile as I grab my things. "And slow down."

Right.

When I get to Folk hills, I run to the main building and slip inside the employee door at the back by the dumpsters. I cuss silently to myself when I see Delsia at my station with her arms folded over her broad chest.

"You're late," she says as I run up.

She looks at the time. So do I. Fifteen minutes past seven o'clock.

"I'm so sorry," I say and she arches one of her dark brows. "It will never happen again."

"See that it doesn't," she says flatly.

I resist pointing out that Nadia is constantly late… but there's no use pulling her down with me. I watch Delsia walk off and make a face at her back. Once she's gone, I pull my bag over my shoulder and stuff it in the cubby as I take my spot behind the counter. I didn't get a chance to eat breakfast and my stomach starts growling after a while to the point where Ernie comments on the noise when he comes by with his mop.

"What'chu think that noise is?" He asked, his bald head shining under the fluorescent lights as the maintenance keys jingle at his side.

"No idea," I lie as my stomach clenches painfully again and I cover it with a well placed cough.

Once he's gone, I look around slyly before taking my bag out. Hoping I have maybe a half-eaten granola bar stuffed in a pocket somewhere, I open the flap and the first thing I see is a bacon and egg sandwich wrapped in a napkin- still warm.

Good old Mum.

Thankful, I duck under the counter and eat it quickly. Crumbs get on the ground that I gently push under the counter. I wipe my mouth off with the back of my hand as I stand back up, only to see Malfoy standing there, waiting impatiently.

How long has he been there?

I didn't even hear him walk up.

"I'm not going to need these until later," he says as he drops two tennis rackets on the desk without a hello or any type of acknowledgement.

I don't even bother to greet him either as I pick them up. I can feel his eyes on me as I stuff them into a locker and shut the door.

"What were you doing down there?" He asks after a moment's pause. I don't answer because I don't want to and he tilts his head. "Do you like working here?"

I shrug and pick up the ticket. I go to hand it to him, but he doesn't take it. He just looks down at my hand and at that stupid ribbon around my wrist before his eyes flick to mine.

"Why do you work here?" he asks after a few silent moments.

"To make money," I state plainly because I'm actually kind of mad that he's talking to me. I don't want him to talk to me. It's too early for this shit.

"Yes," he nods his head and then he looks at my dress. It's the blue one my mother made for me last summer with a tulle overlay and beaded collar. It always made me feel feminine and pretty but I realize now that I've outgrown it. It's a little too short and a little too tight around the bust. In my haste to get ready, I didn't even notice that it didn't zip up all the way. "What do you do with the money?" he asks.

He had no business knowing that and when I told him so, he laughed.

I put his ticket on the counter, but he doesn't pick it up.

"You obviously don't buy new clothes," he says. I feel a shameful blush creep over my cheeks at his words, but I refuse to look away from him this time.

"Just take the freaking ticket," I snap, pushing it towards him.

"I didn't intend to make you feel bad," he says as looks down at his watch, checking the time like I was the one that was bothering him. "I was just stating an obvious fact."

"I don't feel bad," I lie. "Nothing you could ever say could make me feel bad."

"Well, then," he says, rolling his eyes. "That was the wrong thing to say."

"Yes, it was," I snap… though I do feel self-conscious as I look down at my too small dress. My mum had embroidered little daisies at the bottom of the tulle skirt and I glare at them when I realize this shouldn't be my pretty dress at all.

I look like a child.

"You literally have crumbs all over your face," he says flatly.

I panic and bring my hand up to wipe my face again. Mum packed her really crumbly homemade bread and I feel my cheeks redden as he stares at me.

"You almost got it all," he says, amused as I bring up a section of the tulle skirt to wipe my face better. He taps his fingers against the counter and gives me a thoughtful look as I let the fabric fall back in place once I'm sure my face is clean. "Are you dating Harry Potter?"

"What?" I ask quickly, my eyes snapping to his as I dust the crumbs off of my skirt.

He pulls a piece of lint from his green shirt and flicks it away. He doesn't even look uncomfortable for asking me that personal question…In fact,he never looks uncomfortable. He is always perfectly at ease no matter where he is and I find that trait of his particularly annoying.

"Are you seeing him?" he asks. His tone is much more serious, almost like I owed it to him to answer. I don't owe him anything. "Someone mentioned that you were."

"Who did?"

"Does it matter?"

It does.

"Answer my question," he says sharply, his gray eyes narrow and I'm confused by it.

Was that a demand?

"Was it Pansy Parkinson?" I ask because she's the only person from his friend group who would have seen me with Harry.

I bristle when I think of her. Her slender body and skimpy underwear… smirking at me with full, lovely lips.

"Was she wrong?" he asks… and the way he is looking at me… I really don't like it. "Is that self-important arsehole your boyfriend or not?"

I glare at the insult but I can't seem to fight back. Not here. Not now… not when I'm so very close to leaving. The fight leaves me when I glance at the clock. I just have to get through this shift.

"Um, no."

"'Um, no' you don't want to answer my question, or 'um, no' you aren't dating him?" he asks.

"Well, it's really none of your business," I say, gathering my courage. "Is it?"

He looks at me and then smiles unpleasantly.

"I know you'd take any chance to brag about it if you were. I'm just giving you the opportunity."

"You don't even know me," I say, annoyed again that he seems so sure… and that he is so right.

I stare at him for a few moments before looking down at my hands and running my fingers across the counter's edge. His hair is parted down the side and combed away from his face. His skin is pale, unblemished and beautiful.

Beautiful?

God, what's wrong with me.

"I'm not dating him," I say even though I wish I could lie and say it was true just to piss him off. "What's it to you?" I ask with narrowed eyes.

He smiles again, a cruel smile. His teeth are so straight and white. He was almost handsome in a way but I don't like thinking that so I try not to.

"Did you know, Ginny," he leans over the counter again and I hate that he said my name. He shouldn't be allowed to. It isn't right. "That my grandfather was one of the men who founded this club?"

"No, I didn't know that," I reply. "And I don't care."

He smirks.

"Do you get lonely?" he wonders, stepping back and looking around like he just realized where he was. "Not many people make it back here, I bet. It's so far away from everything."

"I don't really mind," I tell him.

Go away.

"I bet you don't," he says and then he finally takes his ticket, folding it up to put in his wallet. "I will see you later."

I resist saying a sarcastic remark and bite my lip to stop myself.

He puts a tip on the counter.

I look down at it.

Four galleons.

He watches me… like he was waiting for me to take it… waiting for me to pick up his money and accept his payment…. But I just couldn't. Not when he was looking at me like that….

"Well, well,"he says thoughtfully.

He opens his wallet and takes out another golden galleon. He puts it on the counter top, his gray eyes never once leaving mine. Then he places another on top and then another. And then another. When I don't move, he narrows his eyes and then starts taking them away, placing them back in his wallet one by one. When he gets down to two galleons, I put my hand on top of the remaining coins.

"Have a good day," I say flatly, pulling the galleons towards me and placing them in my pocket.

He smiles but says nothing and then he mercifully walks away.

What is his problem? I start chewing on my ribbon, anxious again as I stare at his retreating back. I don't like the way I feel… I don't like how heavy his coins rest in my pocket and how uncomfortable I am in my own skin. I also don't like this dress anymore. I look so stupid in it. I am so stupid. I try not to let it bother me… I really do… but every time someone comes, I can't help but think of how awful I look and how annoying Draco Malfoy is.

"Nadia is running late," Delsia says as she stops in front of my desk and taps her long red nails on the counter. "You don't mind hanging around, do you?"

"Of course not," I reply, trying not to show my annoyance.

"You're going have to skip your break today," she adds. "We just don't have the coverage."

"Fine," I say, swallowing my anger because what's the point? Anger didn't get you anywhere.

She leaves me and when she's gone I look under the counter and pull out a book from my bag. If I can't go on a break then I will bring my break here. I look around to make sure no one is coming before cracking it open. It's Elle Lyons' new one…The third part of her Wicked Witches trilogy. I checked it out from the library two weeks ago and haven't had a chance to start it yet.

I lean against the wall and prop my foot up in an attempt to get comfortable but the heels make it impossible. God, I need better shoes.

I get through the first chapter and half way through the second before he returns. This time he's with Blaise Zabini.

I have an irrational moment where I want to hide. Where? I have no idea. It was a foolish thought. Blaise Zabini was almost too beautiful to be considered a boy and looking at him always made me feel some sort of way… like I questioned what I found attractive and whatever it was… he was it. He had a great jawline and nice, thick eyebrows. His hair was dark and curly and always looked so carelessly styled. His masculinity was mixed with a feminine smoothness in a way that made me uncomfortable … Honestly, he was just so good looking that I could almost forgive what a conceited prat he was.

Almost.

"Hi!" I cringe.

I push off the wall and put my blue ribbon in the book for a maker, slipping it off my wrist.

My voice is annoyingly chirpy. It embarrassed me but I tried not to show it. I see the corner of Zabini's lips turn up as they approach and I look away quickly, putting my book down and grabbing a cloth to pretend to clean the counter. Malfoy clears his throat and I look at him for a moment before turning around to get the stupid tennis rackets, realizing a moment too late that Malfoy never gave me his ticket.

I stop and stare at the lockers before clenching my fists and turning back around.

They both look amused. Draco puts his elbow on the counter and leans against it as his eyes dance across my face.

"Can I have your ticket?" I ask, walking back as my high heels clunk awkwardly against the marble floor because they are too big and they slip off too easily.

I glance at Zabini, he's pulling a cigarette out of his pocket and he puts it between his lips.

"Hey, you can't smoke in here."

His amber eyes glance at mine before he brings his wand up to light the end. He inhales deeply and then blows smoke from the corner of his mouth.

"Your dress is unzipped," he says and then he looks at Malfoy like it was funny. "Did you know that?"

"You can't smoke in here," I repeat, ignoring what he said about my zipper because I can literally do nothing about that right now. "You'll get in trouble."

"No, I won't," he says with a scoff and then he sends a smirking look to Malfoy before flicking his ashes onto the floor.

I look around for Delsia because I know she'd throw a fit if she saw someone smoking in the building. Probably blame me somehow… write me up for not making him stop.

"Just give me your ticket, alright?" I say, narrowing my eyes.

"What do you think?" Malfoy asks as he reaches into his pocket to pull out his wallet.

"What do I think about what?" I ask, sounding annoyed.

"I'm not speaking to you," he says flatly.

He looks at Zabini expectantly, like he was waiting for an answer.

Zabini lays his eyes on me and runs his thumb down that nice jaw of his. Then he glances at Draco.

"Yes," he says with a curt head nod.

Malfoy slides the ticket across the counter. I have no idea what they're talking about and I tell myself I don't care. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end as I walk back towards the lockers andtry not to let it bother me. This is my worst nightmare. Being trapped with these two Slytherins who seemed to revel in making other people's lives a living hell.

"Definitely yes," I hear Zabini's posh voice add and my ears start burning as I unlock the locker to pull out the rackets.

"Here," I drop them on the counter top without bothering with being careful. They make a loud clattering sound and then I grab my book from the counter because Zabini has turned it over to read the back of it. "Have a good day."

"It doesn't sound like you mean that," Draco says as he takes the rackets and hands one to his stupid illegally smoking friend. He puts his under his arm and smirks at me. "You don't want me to have a good day, Ginny?"

"Don't say that."

"Don't say what?" he asks, tilting his head and causing some of his hair to fall over his brow. Draco was light everywhere Zabini was dark and the two of them side by side made quite a picture.

"My name," I reply. I swallow that odd lump in my throat and flick a glance at his handsome friend who is watching our exchange as he inhales another drag from his cancer stick. "I don't like the way you say it.".

"What should I call you, then?"

I think of my brother. I think of Harry and Hermione… I think of all the kids that have been bullied and made fun of by Malfoy and his friends. I think of his father and his wealth and his inherently evil ways...

"Weasley."

His smirk vanishes quite quickly. In fact, all emotion seems to fall from his face as he stands straight. Towering over me with his height and looking down with unreadable eyes. It feels different now. There is a tension between us and he seems colder- closer to the Draco that I had been so afraid of. I find myself stepping back and cradling my book to my chest.

"It doesn't suit you," he says before making a head motion towards Zabini and walking off.

Zabini doesn't move right away, he just looks at me so I glare at him for it. He smiles and taps his fingers against the counter before following his friend, smoke trailing behind him.

More of his friends started showing up after that.

The next day Greg Goyle and Theo Nott stopped by my counter to have me hold their wallets. I have no idea why. Men usually carry their wallets with them, but I had the feeling they just came to look at me. When I handed Nott his ticket, he smirked and looked at my chest, blatantly checking out my breasts. I crossed my arms uncomfortably. He smiled and winked. Crabbe came the day after that and looked hard at me with his beady eyes, mouth breathing all over my counter. Younger Slytherins came too… A few boys from my grade and another that was older that I couldn't remember the name of.

I was beginning to feel like a sideshow freak… some unfortunate soul that people bought tickets to gawk at.

Every night I would go home and vent my frustrations to Hermione. Things felt weird and I had the distinct impression Draco Malfoy was to blame.

"Maybe he likes you," she said one night and we looked at each other for a long time before busting out laughing.

I looked forward to the late night chats in my bedroom. Gossip and complaints under the patchwork blankets as the moon shined in from my open window was good for my soul. It was nice having another girl to talk to about things and I was grateful for the companionship. I hardly saw Hermione during the day. She was always off with Ron and Harry doing God knows what… but whatever it was- it was always more important than me.

She would listen to me vent about Malfoy and his friends and my job in general… but she never seemed to want to tell me about my brother or Harry. She never divulged what they were doing or what they were always whispering about. I was very aware of the wall that was built up between us and I tried to ignore how bad that made me feel. I could never understand why I was never good enough to be in their confidence. Why couldn't they see me as an equal to their friend group when I would do anything for them?

It didn't seem fair.

Malfoy's friends kept coming to the counter to stare at me and Hermione always seemed to have an explanation for it… Something to put me at ease and make me think I was paranoid… but then the girls started showing up and Hermione really didn't know what to say about that.

They made me more uncomfortable than the boys, to be honest… because I knew how girls could be. Of course, I knew Pansy Parkinson was a bitch. So when she showed up with her little sister and Daphne Greengrass to turn in sunglasses- I was nervous. When I handed Pansy her ticket, she smiled a serpentine smile and her dark eyes twinkled. She told me I looked nice and complimented my hair. Daphne Greengrass, a bubbly blonde with a wicked tongue giggled at me like I had done something funny.

The girls usually came in groups of two or more… until Pansy Parkinson came alone.

I was reading my book again… only managing to make it a fourth of the way through when she walked up.

Wearing a yellow bathing suit and flip flops, she looked like she just stepped off the pool deck.

"Can I help you?" I ask, holding my spot with my fingers as she looks down at her nails…perfectly manicured and pink, they were just as bright as her suit.

"Your name's Ginny, right?" she asks and I nod my head. Her swimsuit was a revealing two piece that left little to the imagination. She had a perfect body… one that I was envious of but I didn't like feeling that way about a person like her so I tried to focus on her imperfections. She didn't have many. Money made it easier that way. "Ginny Weasley?"

"That's right," I say uncomfortably. An older man comes up behind her and I smile at him. "I'll be with you in one minute, Sir."

"Take all the time you need, Red."

I cringe at the nickname. This particular man is one of the gross ones that has no boundaries.

"Is there anything you want me to check for you?" I ask impatiently, placing my book on the counter top and pushing it to the side.

I give her swim suit a judgmental look because she could have had the decency to cover up a bit while inside, but that seems to amuse her and she smirks.

"You can help him. I just wanted to talk to you for a moment."

I give her a look before smiling brightly at the man behind her.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Ennis?"

He winks at me as he hands over his briefcase. He often comes straight from work, waltzing in wearing a pinstripe suit and throwing money around. New money does that, Delsia had told me, and they also get offended faster. He's some kind of magic law attorney from what I gather and a pretty good one considering he can afford to be a member here. He's also a grade A creep and constantly says things to me that he shouldn't. I was hoping he wouldn't be so crass in front of Pansy Parkinson, but her presence didn't seem to stop him.

"Lord," He says as I walk towards the lockers with his briefcase. "What I wouldn't give to be ten years younger."

Ten years? More like forty.

"They didn't build girls like you two when I was younger," he adds.

I'm sure he is really liking what Parkinson is wearing. She was tan too. A real tan- not the fake orange ones that the older women here preferred. She was almost as dark as Zabini.

The ticket pops out so I turn around to give it to him.

"I do have a preference for redheads," he winks at me. "You know what they say," he smiles… Maybe he's drunk. He always smells weird and his eyes are always bloodshot… "Red on the head… fire in the bed."

"Hey," Parkinson snaps, her lip curled in disgust. "Have a little respect, would you?"

I give her a surprised look as Mr. Ennis takes his ticket.

"Just playing around," he says, throwing some coins on the counter. "You birds have no sense of humor anymore."

He leaves and I look at Pansy as she puts a hand on her slender hip and glares after him.

"You didn't have to do that… He always says stuff like that. It's harmless."

"He's gross," she says with a scowl at the thought of him. "Anyways, do you know who I am?"

"Yeah."

Of course I do.

She smiles. "Do you like Elle Lyons?" she asks.

"What?"

"Lyons… the writer," she says as she nods to the book on the counter.

"Oh." I grab it and stuff it in the bag. "I do, actually."

"I loved that whole series," she says "My favorite is Wake."

"Me too," I say and she smiles.

"Contrary to popular belief," she says as she picks at her fingernails. "I quite enjoy reading."

I have nothing to say to that… so I don't even bother trying to come up with anything smart.

"I love your hair." she reaches out and grabs a strand, twirling it between her fingers. At first I am shocked by it… but then I move away so she'll stop touching me. "Is this your natural color?"

"Yes."

Is she going to say something bad? I know all the bad slurs my brother gets called because of his Weasley red hair. I tuck some behind my ears and ready myself for the insult.

"It's beautiful," she says, her dark eyes flicking over my features like she was trying to read my expression. "I like it."

Again, I don't say anything. What is she playing at, anyways?

"I've seen you at Yellow Springs," she says suddenly and I blush when I remember the last time I saw her there. She doesn't seem bothered by it at all but I look down, uncomfortable. "Does your family have a house there?"

My cheeks burn. "No, I actually live nearby. We go there sometimes…. We are within walking distance."

"It is a beautiful little village," she says as she leans against the counter with her chin in her hand. "They're trying desperately to turn it into a tourist trap. Only attraction there is a big fucking lake and it was only nice when no one else knew about it. It looks so tacky now. I bet people will stop going. Did you see the jugglers that were on the boardwalk when you were there?"

"I did."

"And the clowns? Like what are they thinking? Daddy is already talking about selling the house there. It's just not worth it anymore when there are so many wonderful places in the world to visit."

I wouldn't know.

"I better go," she says suddenly, like she remembered something important. "I told my sister I'd meet her by the pool half an hour ago. She can be a real cunt when she's angry."

I try not to laugh. I also thought her sister was a cunt but I've never said it out loud. She eyes me for a moment… looking me over in a strange way that I do not like. I would almost take Theo Nott ogling my boobs over it.

"I'm staying with my father this weekend," she says thoughtfully. "He has a house on the lake… You should come over tonight."

"What?" I ask, surprised.

"I mean, it's not some big party or anything but I think it could be fun. Just a small group of friends"

"Why?" I ask suspiciously, narrowing my eyes. Now I knew she was definitely playing at something.

"Does there need to be a reason?" She grabs a spare ticket from the desk. "Do you have a pen?" she asks, looking around the counter and even patting down her swimsuit like she might have one tucked away somewhere in the small scraps of yellow fabric. I dig in my bag and hand her a quill. "I'm always looking for new and interesting people to hang out with," she says, writing something down on the shimmering ticket. "And why should we limit ourselves and our experiences, right? You only live once."

She slides the ticket to me. It's an address in Yellow Springs and an accompanying ward code.

"Be careful with that… Daddy would have a fit if he knew his password was just floating around."

"Okay," I say as I fold it up to put in my pocket. "I won't lose it or anything."

She smiles at me. I don't like it but it's not altogether terrible. Pansy Parkinson was pretty and she had a beautiful smile. I just can't read her expression very well… I can't tell if this is a trick or some kind of mean joke. My heart knows that it probably is so I put up walls to protect myself from it.

"You definitely should come, Ginny." Again, her motive is lost to me but I cross my arms uncomfortably anyways. "You'll have a good time. I promise."

"Yeah, I'm sorry, but I hardly know you." I'm being honest, but she doesn't seem all that offended. "I don't know if it's such a good idea but thanks anyways."

"Why not?"

"Besides the obvious?"

"What's obvious?" she asks with her head tilted to the side, her sleek hair falling over her shoulder.

"I mean, you hate my brother… my family. I can't imagine being anywhere with you or your friends."

"Isn't it annoying living in your brother's shadow?" she asks, an eyebrow arched. "When you're so much smarter and better looking than him?"

Well, I can't argue with that.

"Look, I don't like your brother," she says seriously. "He's a fucking jerk and he's mean… but I'm not going to hold that against you. I also hate his friends. Stuck up know it alls that they are… I just want you to realize there's a whole big world out there outside of Harry Potter and the shit he brings with him. You don't seem all that bad. Of course, I can't force you," she says with a shrug. "Just think about it. I'm getting bored of the stupid bitches I hang out with… it would be nice to have someone else to talk to. Do you ever feel that way?" she asks, blinking at me. "Like you need another girl to talk to?"

I do… more than she knew but I couldn't say so.

"I'll think about it," I whisper and she smiles.

"That's a start."

She leaves then and I'm left wondering after her. A part of me thinks that if I did go over to her place then they'd all gang up on me and do something truly horrific… but another part of me… the rebellious part that wanted to raise hell… wondered what a friendship with her would actually look like. Ron would hate it, of course, and maybe that wouldn't be so bad.

I smile at the thought. How red his face would get and how angry he would become. Sputtering obscenities and pointing his broken wand. He is always telling me I need to get my own friends. He's always pushing me out of rooms and conversations and relationships. Could you imagine the look on his face if I was hanging out with Pansy Parkinson and her gang of plastic manufactured bullies?

It's actually pretty satisfying.

Nadia comes strolling in forty five minutes later. I'm already packed and ready to go by the time she finally shows up with some bullshit excuse about her wand not working properly. No one says anything to her. Delsia doesn't wait with her arms crossed and a "see that it doesn't happen again" bitch face. It's not fair at all but at least I get to go home now. We make small talk and then I leave without saying a proper goodbye. I slip off my shoes and let them dangle from my fingers as I walk out the employee door and down the long service hallway that has bright white lights and scuffed up walls from when the overfull janitor carts squeeze past.

I hear a loud thumping noise and I stop for a moment.

There's a groan followed by more thumps so I turn to the noise and find one of the maintenance closets to my right. The light is on inside and swinging back and forth, making strange shadows within. I take a step closer, furrowing my brows at the strange noises. I wonder whether I should go get someone. I even look behind me like I might find a person who is older than me with more authority…. but the hall is empty.

There's another strange groan and I frown.

Maybe someone is hurt… Maybe Ernie the maintenance man fell and is having a heart attack. His purple work suit caught up in his cleaning cart as he clutches at his chest. Maybe there's a squirrel in there. Or a boggart. Could be anything. When I hear a loud crash, I throw open the door and gasp in shock at what I see.

"I'm sorry!" I squeak as I cover my eyes.

I peek through my fingers to find Cho Chang red faced, scrambling to right her clothes and Draco Malfoy looking unbothered as he steps away from her.

"You say that word a lot," Draco says gruffly as he buckles his belt. Cho blushes crimson as she pulls on her shirt. She is wearing a pink, lacy bra… something so delicate and pretty. "I doubt you mean it."

"You're not going to tell anyone, are you?" Cho asks as she steps into the hallway. "My parents will kill me."

When I don't say anything, she grabs Draco's arm and gives him a desperate look.

"Draco, give her some money," she whispers.

At first, I'm hurt by her words… I knew Cho. We spent plenty of time together last year but my hurt turns to anger and I narrow my eyes.

The traitor.

"I don't need your money," I bite out, letting my hand drop from my face. My anger gets rid of any shock I might be feeling. "Don't worry, Chang. I'm not going to tell anyone what you were doing in a maintenance closet," I lie because I am very much going to tell people. "With Malfoy, of all people."

"Of all people," Malfoy shakes his head at my words as he buttons his shirt.

"Thanks," Cho says, seemingly relieved and not catching onto my tone at all. "I should go," she turns to Malfoy and gives him a quick peck on the cheek. I make a face at it. "I'll see you later."

She takes off down the hallway, tucking in her shirt and tripping in her haste to get away. Her tennis skirt flipping up and showing her knickers as she runs. When she disappears around the corner, I look to Malfoy to find him watching me.

"You're disgusting," I tell him, cocking my eyebrow and trying to be braver than I feel.

"Am I?" I narrow my eyes at the amusement on his face. "Or are you just jealous that no one has pulled you into a closet to fuck?"

A blush spreads over my cheeks and I turn away so he can't see. His crude words shock me and I can't seem to think of a witty reply. No one has ever talked to me like that before and it made me uncomfortable. In fact, this whole encounter is making me feel sick.

"Thought so," he says with a smug smirk.

I'm definitely not jealous of that and when I go to glare at him for it, I find him standing right in front of me. He is much too close. So close that I can smell his cologne so I take a step back. He seems to take that as an invitation so he takes another step forward and then another and then another until I'm forced to move back too. My back eventually hits the wall behind me and I accidentally drop my shoes. They thump on the ground… heavy, clunky leather things that they are.

"Go away," I whisper, staring at his throat. The top two buttons of his shirt are still undone and I glance down to see the ring finger on his wand hand twitching against his thigh.

"Is that what you want?" he asks curiously. I feel like a trapped animal. He is so much taller than me and I've never realized how broad his shoulders were until now. "Or would you like to step back into the closet with me and finish what you interrupted?"

I crinkle my nose. "Gross," I whisper.

He smiles unpleasantly and then he takes another step closer so he is practically pressed up against me. I take a deep, shaking breath, unsure of what he's playing at. He bends down to pick up my shoes and, on his way back up, he stops to whisper in my ear.

"I know how to do a lot of gross things," he says suggestively, his warm breath tingling the shell of my ear. "I could teach you a lot more than Potter ever could."

I push him back, hard. My hands pressed against his chest to give him a violent shove.

He laughs as he stumbles back.

"That was rude," he says, his eyes twinkling with mirth as I yank my shoes from his hand and angrily put them on. "You're in a mood today, aren't you?"

I refuse to talk to him anymore and I start walking away, aware of his eyes on me as my heels thunk thunk thunk against the ground. I give him one last withering look over my shoulder before I disappear out the back entrance. He stands under one of the bright hanging lights, his thumb running over his lower lip and his shirt untucked as he watches me. His hair is messier than I've ever seen it before and I can imagine Cho Chang pawing at him in the closet making all those terrible noises as she pulls his hair out of place.

"Whore," I mutter.

"What did you just call me?" he laughs, tilting his head in amusement and letting his hand drop.

"You heard me."

I leave him there… satisfied that I got the last word. When I get outside, I lean against the closed door and try to catch my breath. My heart is beating incredibly fast and I find that my stomach feels unwell. Almost sick… like I was nervous or something. I shake it away as I walk past the dumpsters and dig the wand out of my bag. I am not going to let that pompous prig get to me. He can do whatever he wants with Cho Chang- it doesn't bother me one bit. They are both disgusting.

When I get home, I put in our ward code at the gate and walk into the kitchen, expecting to see my mum- but she's not there. In fact, the whole house seems oddly quiet.

I look around, puzzled for a moment before catching a plate of biscuits by the sink wrapped in cling film. There's a bright yellow sticky note stuck to the top.

Ginny- Stepped out for a minute, the note says. Dad is in the den and I will be back shortly. Don't let Ron eat the roast in the oven- Mum.

I throw my heels into the corner with the other discarded shoes and tear through the clear film to get a biscuit for myself. It's some kind of sugar and cinnamon one and I take a good sized bite as I go upstairs to change out of my work clothes. I pass my brother's room. It's open but no one is inside…. My door is closed so I knock politely before opening it and finding it empty as well. Clean and organized- but empty.

"Hermione?" I call as I take another bite of the biscuit and then set it on my vanity. I change quickly into sweat pants and an old jersey before going out to look for everyone.

"Hermione?" I call again but I receive no answer.

The house just feels empty now and I don't like it. I need to tell someone about finding Draco Malfoy with Cho Chang doing bad things in the maintenance closet. Someone else must know this information! I check downstairs…The living room and the den where my Dad is deep into his miniature model building world with his bifocals on and his tiny paintbrush lifted. I check the bathroom over Charlie's old room, the attic, and the floor where my parents sleep but I find nothing. Maybe they went for a walk… maybe they went back to Yellow Springs for the day… maybe they just disappeared into thin air.

I go back to my room and sit on the bench by the window as I finish the discarded biscuit and try not to think of a half dressed Draco Malfoy. He's always been attractive to me, but he was always so ugly on the inside that I couldn't help but think he was ugly on the outside as well. It was hard to think that way now… now that he had shed the awkwardness of youth and was looking more and more like a grown man. A very well proportioned man…

Yuck.

Even I am disgusted with myself.

I make a face and throw the rest of the biscuit on my bedside table. I wipe my sugar covered hands off on my sweatpants and look outside. It's still so hot. This summer has been brutal with its humidity and my mum is no good at cooling charms so I open the window to let some fresh air in. The sun is starting to set on the horizon… the world pink and gold as it tucks itself in for the night. I can see a half moon already visible in the pale blue sky and I make a wish as I lean my head against the window frame.

What do I wish for?

I wish for a normal year ahead. I wish that the world doesn't implode so I can actually make it to that retreat in Ireland next summer…. And I wish to never see Draco Malfoy again.

Fireflies wake and blink their light along the darkened bushes and trees in our backyard. As I admire the wonder of the summer time night, I catch Hermione's head of bushy brown hair coming from around my dad's garden shed. Harry and Ron are flanked on either side of her with their heads bent together as they talk about important things that I'm not a part of. They stop just in front of my mum's vegetable garden and Ron yanks a few cherry tomatoes off of a plant to pop in his mouth. I want to call out to them… but I think better of it and I go to my vanity- moving around nail polish bottles and hair clips before finding the flesh colored string Fred had given me as a birthday present two years ago. I'm sick of their secrets. It's not fair. I can handle things too.

I go back to the window and lower the expendable ear, watching it roll along the grass towards Ron and his friends. When I'm sure I won't get caught, I put the other end up to my ear and sit down on the floor with my back pressed against the wall under the window so they won't see me.

"Next week…." I hear Harry say in a fuzzy voice. I pull the string out of my ear and blow some dust off of it. "I can't stay here any longer knowing what's going on out there."

"Harry," The sound is much clearer now and I smirk at my own cleverness as Hermione's voice comes into focus. "He's in hiding now. Things are going smoothly. If we wait until we're back at Hogwarts, I'm sure…"

"We're leaving next week," he says, finality in his voice. "We'll be back before school starts."

"Can I at least tell my mum?" Ron interjects, sounding less than thrilled. "You know she'll go mental when she wakes up and finds us all gone."

"No one can know where we're going. You can leave a note or something saying we'll be back, but that's it. We can only trust ourselves." Harry sometimes gets this very dominant leader voice and I can't help but find that appealing when he's always so awkward around me. "We're not talking about this anymore. If all goes well we'll be back before school starts."

"What about Ginny?" Hermione asks and I feel my ears perk up at being mentioned. "We're just leaving her too? It's going to be hard sneaking out of her room in the middle of the night."

"Find a way," Harry snaps and I make a face.

"It's going to hurt her feelings. You know her birthday is soon…"

"Hermione, she can't go with us. She needs to get her own friends," my brother sighs and I roll my eyes. He acts like nobody likes me… People like me more than him! "You know how annoying she can get."

Annoying!

"Yeah," Hermione agrees with a sigh.

Yeah?

Did she just agree with him? My fist clenches and I feel my lip curl in a snarl. The pain mixes with anger and anger wins out. I pop my head up and I look out the window, seeing them in the dark, barely an outline against the pale moonlight.

"We can only trust ourselves," Harry says as he makes a motion with his hand, signaling the three of them. "No one else… not even Ginny. She's not a part of this."

I yank the string back until it curls up the window again and I glare, not wanting to hear more. I always knew I wasn't 'a part of it' but I didn't need to hear them say it. I slam my window closed and put the extendable ear back in my broken drawer. Annoying, really? Ron and Hermione think I'm the annoying one? Have they taken a good look in the mirror? I stomp towards my closet, pulling things off the hangers and packing them in a small duffle bag. I need my own friends, Ron is right about that. I go to the bathroom and pack up my toothbrush and makeup before going back to my room to get my shoes. My options aren't great but I go with the flip flops because they are the easiest.

I hear footsteps in the hallway, but I ignore them as I furiously pack my bag. It's always good to meet new people and to never limit yourself. Isn't that what she said… something like that? I hesitate a second before digging the shimmering ticket out of my discarded skirt pocket and I stare at the address for a minute. This isn't a bad idea at all, right?

"Hey, Gin," Hermione says happily from the doorway and I narrow my eyes as I stuff the ticket in the inner pocket of my bag. "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to stay at Luna's tonight."

"Oh?" she says and then she smiles. "How is Luna? I haven't seen her in a while."

"She's fine," I say shortly and she tilts her head to the side when she catches my tone.

"Are you guys doing anything fun tonight?" She asks curiously. I know what she's doing. She wants me to invite her to go as well because I'm her window into all things girl since she hangs out with boys all the time, but I won't. Not this time. She's not a part of it. "I'm so tired of hanging out with guys," she says with a laugh.

"I think we're going to go to a party," I say as I think of Pansy Parkinson. I'm not exactly sure if what she invited me over for was a party, but I wanted to make Hermione jealous.

"A party?" she asks like the word was such a funny one associated with me. You know, the annoying loser with no friends. "What kind of party?"

"A fun party," I tell her coolly as I walk towards the door. "You wouldn't like it. It would probably annoy you, really."

She looks hurt for half a second when she realizes I'm not going to ask her to come. "Does your mother know you're going to a party?" she asks, her attitude now harsh as she crosses her arms.

"No," I say as I pass by her. "Are you going to tell her? Or is that loyalty only reserved for Harry and Ron?"

"I won't tell on you," she states bitterly and I give her a bitter smile right back before leaving her there with a slam of my door.

I actually feel really guilty for the way I just treated her, but she deserved it… they all deserve it. They don't get to walk all over my feelings and then reap the benefits of my company. I inhale deeply and hop down the steps before passing my dad in the den where he's bent over his work bench- putting together a model of Gringotts Bank.

"Bye Dad!" I wave at him as I walk over to the fireplace.

"Bye…" he says dismissively and then he blinks at me as I grab a handful of floo powder. "Uh, where are you going?"

He looks at me from over the rim of his glasses.

"I'm staying the night at Luna's," I tell him with a smile. I find that if I go into something with confidence, my dad rarely questions it.

He surveys me for a second before nodding his head. "Right. Well, have a good time."

I smile before disappearing into the flames, arriving in Luna's living room. She doesn't even seem shocked to see me, she just looks up from her puzzle with an odd frown on her face.

"Ginny? What are you doing here?"

"Is your dad home?" I ask as I look around the room, dusting soot from my clothes. Their living room is a hoarder mess of papers and magazines all stacked together and in disarray. Makes me feel a little better about The Burrow.

She shakes her head and stands up. "He's always gone on Thursday nights. Why?" She eyes my duffle bag. "Did I miss your owl or something?"

"Do you mind if I stay the night?" I ask and when she tells me she doesn't mind at all, I throw my bag down on her couch. "I was thinking we could go somewhere different tonight." I pull out Pansy's piece of paper and unfold it. "Do you want to come with me?" I ask and she smiles, excited by the idea.

"I do love new things," she says. "And I just bought a new top."

We smile at each other before we both run up the spiral staircase to get ready.

As she digs through her wardrobe, I tell her where we're going and she pauses for a moment, looking over my shoulder as her blond hair cascades down her back like a jagged waterfall. She needs a haircut to even it out but I don't think she cares.

"Pansy Parkinson?" she whispers. "Do you think that's wise?"

"Not really," I say as I take out the clothes I packed and frown at them. I can't imagine anything I brought looking nice enough for where we're going. "But sometimes I think we need to just get out of our comfort zone and try something new… with new people…."

"But what if…" she turns to me, her large eyes troubled. "What if she just wants to make fun of you?"

"Well, I will have you with me," I say, giving her a smile. I've already decided this is happening. No turning back now. "Do you mind if I borrow some clothes?" I ask as I stand beside her and peek inside her wardrobe. "I don't have anything good to wear."

"Oh, yes," she says gently. "They do seem to be very preoccupied with wearing nice clothes, don't they?"

I pull out a dark green dress.

"When did you get this?" I ask because I've never seen her wear it.

It was simple enough, with little cap sleeves and an empire waist- but the color is what caught my eye. Slytherin green. I ask if I can try it on and she nods her head. Luna is smaller than me… Petite and slim, she was built in a way that I wished I was and I always found myself envious of her body. Clothes seemed to wear her well- even the ridiculous outfits she put together.

I strip down to my little girl's beige bra and white knickers and go over to her full-length mirror.

Luna's room is whimsical and artsy, covered in paint splotches and smelling of turpentine. Her dad lets her paint over the walls and she's been making great progress on the self portrait she's been painting on her ceiling. She also painted Harry and Hermione too… which annoys me but I ignore them staring down at me as I slip into the dress and have Luna tie the ribbon in the back.

"This is nice," I say, swishing the skirt back and forth. It was just a cotton blend dress and it was too short… but as long as I don't bend over too far I'll be fine.

"You look nice in green," she says, smiling at my reflection.

Maybe the color will endear Pansy Parkinson and her friends to us more. I bite my lip thinking of what the night will bring as I play with the silk ribbon under my breasts. I watch Luna get ready from the reflection in the mirror and for some reason I can't stop thinking about Draco Malfoy standing under the harsh lighting at Folk Hills. His blonde hair a mess and his cheeks slightly flushed. My inexperienced mind suddenly wondered about the gross things he could teach me…. And if he'd be better at them than Harry Potter.