Girl Boy by Tiffr

Rating: PG13
Genres: Romance, Humor
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 14/06/2004
Last Updated: 25/07/2005
Status: In Progress

The only thing Hermione Granger wanted was love. Of course, she had many other complaints...a
lousy job, a pathetic boyfriend, just to name a few. Well, after she blurts out all of her secrets
to an anonymous man on an airplane during turbulence, she doesn't think life can get any worse.
However, when that man happens to be her company's founder and her new boss, Mr. Harry Potter,
she may find that life doesn't necessarily get worse and that maybe, she can find love in
unexpected places. AU. H/Hr, D/G




1. Rift
-------

A/N: Allright, you’ve caught me. I really should be updating my other stories, and trust me,
I’ve been trying. I’ve had the worst case of I’m-lazy-and-can’t-think-of-a-good-plot-twist soo I’m
waiting it out until some type of miracle-inspiration kicks in. Pity it had to come in the form of
a new plotline for a new story, so here we go. Let’s just hope I can keep up with 4 stories–I told
myself in the beginning that the max would be 2. Which changed to 3. And now I guess it’s 4.



It is AU, so if anyone flames me saying that this wouldn’t happen in the canon world–I’ll point
and laugh.



Also, I’m aware that Ginny’s true name is Ginevra, or something like that, isn’t that right? And
that’s all nice and well....I’ve really got nothing against the name, it’s actually quite a nice
name, but the idea of “Virgina Weasley” has been in my head since the first book that I’m quite
attached to it. And in my head, Ginny is much more of a “Virginia” than a “Ginevra,” at least in my
opinion. So she’ll remain Virginia in probably all of my stories. If anyone has a real, burning
passion of hate for this, mention it in ur review!



~-~-~-~-~-~



Girl Boy



Chapter One: Rift



~-~-~-~-~-~



(Harry)



Let me introduce myself. Although, I’m quite certain that you know exactly who the bloody hell I
am. At least, if you read magazines. Or newspapers. Or tabloids. Watch the telly. Go on the
tube.



Who am I? Harry Potter, millionaire extraordinare. I try not to have a big head about it,
though. I’m the co-founder of Portkey, the largest line for anything masculine. You got sports
drinks, sports bars, the works. I share that title with my best mate, Ronald Weasley. We’ve known
each other since the unhappy wailing of our first breath–we lived right next door and our birthdays
are only months apart.



It’s not like I’m not happy with my life. I’ve got everything any British person wants. Money.
Fame. Women.



Actually, that’s not true. I don’t have women. Women want me, but that doesn’t mean I
technically...have them.



Can you keep a secret?



If this ever got out, I would be the laughing stock of Portkey. Of bars. Of loos. Anything,
really.



...I’m actually saving myself.



What? Yeah, that does mean I’m still a virgin.



I’m proud of it, though. I can’t ever respect a man who goes to a bar, picks a random girl, has
his way with her, and then dumps her the next day. Or girls who enjoy the noncommitment and
animalistic pleasure. That’s just so...overrated. I pity them, actually.



But I’m *secretly* proud. Shouting it out wouldn’t be the best thing in the world.



And no one expects it, since I am, of course, Harry Potter.



And that I’m going out with Ginny Weasley.



Of course I like her. She’s Ron’s sister, and by all standards, she’s perfect. Auburn locks
cascading down her back, a pale complexion any woman would die for, dark brown eyes that gaze right
into your soul, a knowing smirk, those pouty lips, a curvy figure...



I could really just go on and on.



But you want to know another secret?



I’m not in love with her, like everything suspects. Sure, I like her. If I was married to her, I
wouldn’t dislike it, per say. It’s just...I don’t want to settle. Settle for second rate. And I
know that a woman like Ginny Weasley isn’t second rate. But she isn’t exactly first rate,
either.



I want something more.



But like I said, don’t tell anyone that. Ron was expecting a proposal at any time. He was more
excited about us than we were. But now that he’s gone...it’s like we don’t have anything anymore,
me and Ginny. It was as if the only reason we stayed together, the only thing keeping us together,
was Ron...



She’s a writer. Ginny, I mean. She writes columns and editorials, she’s a natural. And
currently, she’s off in France, doing some sort of writing festival. For...poetry. Singing.
Something. All I know is, she’s gone for four weeks. Four glorious weeks.



I sit down in my first class chair, on my way to London from New York. I love London, I really
do, but I found that I just loved America more. It’s not really anything, having a home. I travel
so much that I can’t honestly say that I have much of one. That’s one thing I really–



“I hate flying.”



I turn away from the window to face the speaker. She’s sitting right next to me, her bushy hair
surrounding her trembling face.



“I absolutely hate it.”



“It’s allright,” I say, smiling to her. “It’s not like we’re going to die.” She swallows,
nodding nervously.



“Of course not.” As an after thought, she turns to me and asks, “Right?”



“Right,” I say, patting her hand.



~-~-~-~-~-~



(Hermione)



I knew the moment McGonagall assigned me to that business meeting with the Three Broomsticks
that it would spell disaster.



I don’t know what I’m doing, working for Portkey. Back in my school days, I was number one. Top
of the class. Same way in college. But once I graduated, once I started studying for lawyering...I
didn’t want it. Suddenly, my perfectly laid out life crumbled around me. I didn’t want my life, I
wanted something else. Something...simple.



And Minerva McGonagall, my mother’s dear friend, needed a marketing assistant.



“In a year,” she said, “You could become a marketing *executive*.”



She said the word like it was becoming God Himself.



Ah, well I thought. I’ll take this job, think, and when I find the right occupation for me to
fulfill satisfaction and happiness, I can quit. But while I figure out what I wanted from life, I
could still manage to pay the rent this way.



Well, it’s been a year. And I still have no idea.



I had to fly to Sweden to meet with the Three Broomsticks representative. I knew the moment she
said the words, “you” and “fly” that I would be in for one hell of a ride.



I. Hate. To. Fly.



That’s just the bottom line. I can do it, I know it’s safe, but all the same...I’d very much
rather that my feet stay on the ground, exactly where they belong.



Minerva had different plans for me.



“It’s just a short, simple meeting, all of our executives are booked, please Hermione? It would
do loads for your career here.”



My *career*. At *Portkey*.



Oh hell, what had I dug myself into?



So now, after a successful meeting, I had been led onto the plane, business class, where I sat
next to a handsome man with jet black hair and broad shoulders. He looked slightly familiar,
somehow...



After 20 minutes and we were almost launching, I gripped my arm rests instinctively and slowly
began to count down from 100. After the plane began to move forwards and my eyes snapped open, I
began to compulsively recite the greek alphabet backwards. Then when that failed, I whispered the
Nobel Peace Prize winners for the last 20 years in reverse order.



“I hate to fly.” I had gone through all my take off drills–why the bloody hell hadn’t we taken
off yet?!



“It’s allright,” the man next to me said, smiling at me warmly. I noticed his eyes then, his
blazing, green eyes that seemed to be able to just pierce my soul. “It’s not like we’re going to
die.”



I swallowed nervously, nodding anxiously.



“Of course not,” I say, trying to convince myself. My voice falters as after a moment I ask him,
“Right?”



“Right,” he reinstates, patting my hand. And because of that, I began to relax. There was
something about him that didn’t make me the raging stress hurricane I normally was. “I’m Harry,” he
said a few minutes later, smiling at me again.



“H-Hermione.”



“Hello, Hermione.”



“Hello...Harry.” He was so formal...as if he was used to introducing himself this way, saying
polite hellos and giving out handshakes.



“What were you doing in Sweden?”



“Oh, just some business. You?”



“Same.” The conversation dwindled off after that, which was just as well. The lights turned off
and I had to swallow a scream. I could hear roaring somewhere behind me and the airplane raced off,
speeding along the small, frightingly small road we would have to eventually land on.



“Oh my God oh my God oh my God,” I whispered, gripping my armrests once more. My knuckles were
turning white, my breaths were shallow–I was going to have a heart attack, oh gosh I was going to
die, I was going to die on this God forsaken plane with this handsome, delicious man sitting next
to me. And when the paramedics ask what killed me, he’ll–



“Hermione?”



I turned my head around like a paranoid bird before a warm hand rested on mine and I flinched, a
small, sexy chuckle heard to my right.



“It’s going to be okay, Hermione. We aren’t going to die.”



“O-okay. We aren’t going to die, we aren’t...we aren’t going to die. I’m going to land and
return back to my stressful, pathetic, pitiful life and it’ll all be bloody okay.” He chuckled
again, that warm, sexy chuckle that sent blood to the tips of my frozen toes.



“That’s right,” he whispered.



“Yes. We’re good.”



“We’re good,” he reiterated.



“Harry,” I said, nervously.



“Yeah?”



“Could you...could you put down your window?”



“Sure.” He reached over and pulled it down, blocking my view of the height that might cause my
possible death.



“Okay,” I breathed out, counting numbers in my head as my shallow breathes slowly returned back
to normal.



“Why’re you so scared of flying?” he asked, his hand still on mine.



With a blush I answered, “I don’t know, I’ve just always been afraid of it. Heights don’t really
scare me, it’s just the flying. I guess when I’m on ground, it’s stable, I know it can’t fall out
underneath me and I’ll fall through a hole and crack my skull on the Earth’s core. But anything can
happen, a small pebble flying through the air could pierce the airplane’s wing and we could all
spiral away into death, that small pebble spinning us into a vortex of–”



“Okay, okay,” he said, rushingly. I blushed even more, hating my talkative side effect of
paranoia. But he didn’t sound annoyed. It was more amusement...I could see it in his eyes.



“You probably find this so amazingly funny,” I spit out, shaking my head.



“Well, as a matter of fact Ms. Hermione, I do.”



~-~-~-~-~-~



(Ginny)



Ginny Potter. Mrs. Harry Potter. Mrs. Ginny Potter. Ms. Ginny Weasley. Ginny Weasley. Virginia
Weasley...



“Ginny Potter” just didn’t have a ring to it, no appeal whatsoever.



I had been going out with Harry for years now...at first, I really thought I was in love. He was
perfect, a perfect gentleman, a perfect boyfriend, perfect everything.



But with everything surrounding me perfect for all my life...I didn’t want perfection. I really
didn’t. I wanted someone who would make me feel alive, as if I wasn’t just this spoiled girl who
got everything she wanted. Someone who could see...well, me. And I knew Harry could. But...it
wasn’t enough, what he saw.



I wanted someone who didn’t see Virginia, Ronald Weasley’s younger sister. Not Virginia, Harry
Potter’s girlfriend. Not even Virginia, mastermind behind Portkey advertisements.



But Ginny. Ginny Weasley.



Ron, probably the one person on the face of this planet who knew Ginny, was gone. I was all
alone now...and that idea stabbed me in the worst ways possible, torturing me until I felt as if I
was going to explode in bitter resentment. He was young, not even cracking the age of thirty, and
already dead.



But I was sick of crying, of feeling sorry for myself. I was invited to a writing convention in
Paris, and everything be damned if this wasn’t a gift from God. I was going to get away from
everything for four weeks, four glorious weeks.



It wasn’t that I didn’t like Harry. He was like a brother to me; we had all grown up together,
him, me, and Ron. I knew he was hurting. I knew he needed someone to comfort him...but I couldn’t
do that. Because I don’t think that I could’ve done it. Whenever I would try to comfort him, he
would end up comforting me. And he didn’t need that weight on his shoulders, that bloody burden.
Harry should be able to mourn freely, and not be forced to deal with my depression as well.



So here I was.



France...is beautiful.



There isn’t another word to describe it.



And I felt as if this is where I belonged...this ancient, glorious city full of love and
warmth.



Something I missed.



It felt like home, and I had only been there for five minutes.



Immediately a man caught my attention as we walked to the same destination. His pale blonde hair
fell over his eyes delicately, those stormy gray eyes catching my own as he gazed at me. He was
tall, a lean build who emitted a sense of radiance all his own.



“Hey,” I said, smiling.



“Hi,” he muttered, remaining stolid.



“You...going to the Merlin Writing Conference?”



“Poetry division.”



“Invited or attending?”



“Lecturing.”



And I knew who he was. Draco Malfoy. The famous poet and lyricist...his work was dark, often
gloomy and depression, but there was no mistake that it was art, beautiful movements of
emotion.



“You’re Draco Malfoy, aren’t you?”



“That I am.”



“I’m a huge fan of your work.”



“Isn’t everyone?”



“Maybe I’ll attend some of your lectures.”



“You better hurry, they’re almost all full.”



“Maybe you could reserve me a seat,” I said, half flirting, half serious.



He glanced at me seriously and muttered, “Maybe I will.”



But as we caught eyes I could feel something...chemistry maybe. But it was something. Something
I hadn’t felt since middle school.



“You here for the poetry?” I asked all of a sudden as we waited at the pillar that the letters
had told us to wait at. I don’t know why I asked it...I mean, of course he was hear for the poetry,
what else would he be here for?



“Somewhat.”



“Somewhat?”



“Yeah.”



“What’s the other some part?”



“I had to get away. Get some air. Breathe.”



“Yeah. I know what you mean.”



“Really.”



“Yeah.”



“Because I highly doubt you would know anything about what I’m going through.”



“Don’t pretend that you’re the only wounded animal here, Malfoy.”



“You don’t know what wounds and scars I carry, so maybe you should just–”



“Welcome! To the Merlin Writing Convention! Mr. Malfoy, Ms. Weasley...I’m glad to see our top
two lecturers here!”



“Hello, Mr. Fudge,” we said almost simultaneously.



“Now, getting friendly are we?” I tried to give him a smile. Malfoy grunted. “Good! Because you
two will be rooming together–I know that it wasn’t what was agreed on, but Padma Patil suddenly had
an engagement and she claimed she couldn’t leave for four weeks...and of course her fiancé had to
be Seamus Finnagin, who also claimed the same...so we had to room the two of you together. You two
don’t mind, do you?”



Oh. Bloody. Hell.



Room with Malfoy? The 20-second-prick? I glanced over at him to see that he looked surprised,
amazed, horrified even.



Well, serves him right. I gave a wicked grin...Malfoy would have an interesting four weeks.



~-~-~-~-~-~



reviewing’s good for the soul...



A/N: I just might pull this story, because I have no idea whatsoever what to do next! I think it
was just a relieve-the-brain-so-I-can-work-on-my-other-stories sort of thing...it really depends on
the feedback I get. If I get less than, oh let’s see, 10 reviews for this story, it’s an
outtie!



2. Surprise
-----------

Thanks to harryherm84, hpdancer92, Eli, Izabel, Austenlover, Jack Ryan, Larissa, Harry-Potter
obsessed, Ren, Falling, hermionepotter17, Kristin, akjennymay9, bamaslamma29, Renae, kw702955,
Roxy, ears91, Hermiones Phoenix, Hermione Graner Potter, Kinsfire (yeah, lol!), hrhermione, and
watchoutforme for your supporting comments!



Davaca, there actually is magic, as you’ll see from this chapter. I agree that I was a little
short sighted to use portkey as a name to the company, but I figure that Ron would’ve wanted to
name it the Cannons and Harry isn’t too creative with names either. Just so everyone knows, they
did go to Hogwarts and all that, but after the war with Voldemort he, Ron, and Ginny wanted a break
from the wizarding world. The reason Hermione and others are in this muggle world is because
muggle-borns were never allowed into Hogwarts. Hermione doesn’t know about magic or anything,
yaddayaddayadda. As to why McGonagall is in there, well, that was me possibly misusing my author
license...hehe.



Glitterfairyxoxo, Ron’s my favorite character too! I had to have him die to fulfill the
plotline, you know, the whole Harry/Ginny but they aren’t no more thing. Yeah. Sorta sad. I think I
have Ron die in like half of my fics...really sad, isn’t it. What a way to show I love him!



~-~-~-~-~-~



Girl Boy



Chapter Two: Surprise



~-~-~-~-~-~



(Hermione)



“And that awful coffee maker, I swear, it makes the most horrible coffee ever presented to
man–Penelope, she thinks she’s so much smarter than me, just yesturday she was trying to inform me
that the Iliad, written by Socrates, was the best story she had ever read, I have no idea how she
gets paid better than I do–the only friend I really have in that entire place is Colin, he often
comes into my cubicle and asks if we can compare numbers, then we go across the street to Starbucks
and gossip like the teenagers we always are...”



How did I get here? What was I saying to Harry?! Revealing the darkest, deepest secrets in my
life–shut up, Hermione! But no...just keep on going, girl...



“I don’t want to die, oh God I’m going to die, there were only three things I wanted to do
before I die: one, to go to Greece, two, to prove to my parents that I’m more than a stupid
employee at God damn *Portkey*, and three, that I would fall deeply, desperately in
love...”



Harry stared at me, his mouth slightly open, those beautiful, glorious eyes gazing unblinkingly
at me.



“I have a boyfriend, Justin, but really, I think it’s gone on far too long, I mean we’ve tried
to find my G-spot countless times and I swear that boy has no talent in bed–”



Oh my bloody God! I did not just say that outloud!



“I’ve actually tried finding out about it from books, as I obviously can’t find it out by
experimentation–”



SHUT UP HERMIONE!



“And at work, I usually work so fast that I finish all my work in a few hours, but instead of
going to get some more and proving that I’m smarter than all the rest of them I just call my
friends, or my mum, or whatever, and pretend I’m talking to a client or a worried manager or
another executive–”



Ah, yes. Once again, my paranoia has unleashed my worst enemy–my own god damn mouth. About half
an hour ago the plane had suddenly hit horrible turbulence; trays and dishes were flying
everywhere. Harry’s head hit the ceiling and I nearly fell out of my seat...the flight attendant’s
were trying to calmly tell us that we were fine, that this was perfectly normal, but then they
would strap themselves down and close their eyes fiercely...the pilot came on the intercom and told
us that this was standard, but when we hit another wave of turbulence he shrieked and oh we were
going to die...



“I want a guy who’ll take me out to the park and take a midnight stroll with me, hold my hand
and kiss my knuckles, string lights up in a tree and play music and we’d waltz away into
happiness–”



“Miss?”



“Why are all men pigs, hm? Is it just genetically impossible for them to deviate from anything
other than porkish horror?”



“Miss?!”



“Y-yes?” *What was it? Was I in Heaven? I must be in Heaven–*



“We’ve landed.”



“We’ve...what?” I looked out the window to see that I was safely on the ground, the airport in
my view.



“Everyone’s gotten off...the man sitting next to you came to me and expressed his
concerns...”



“O-oh, well, thank you, I’ll just...g-go, now, um...”



How utterly embarassing.



*Ah well* I told myself as I walked off the plane. *At least I’ll never see him
again–*



“Hermione!” someone yelled and before I knew it, my nose was forced into a plaid shirt smelling
awfully like too much cologne and Justin was holding me close. “When everyone else got off and I
didn’t see you, oh I didn’t know *what* happened to you, I was so scared...”



“I’m okay, Justin,” I said, gently pushing away from him. “What’re you doing here?”



“Missed you,” he said, grinning. I tried to smile back, but failed. “What’s wrong?”



“Just...” *I’ve just had enough, Justin. We’re through. I’m sorry, but...* “Just tired, I
guess.”



“Well...I’ve figured something out, Hermy.” I cringed. I hated that nickname...



“What?”



“When you didn’t get off that plane, I just...didn’t know what to do, anymore...and I realized
something. I...” *No, Justin, don’t say it. Don’t. I won’t be able to break up with you after
that, you know I won’t, don’t say it, please, you–* “I love you.”



“Ah...”



“And I want you to move in with me.”



“You...you sure?”



“Of course! You don’t have to say *it* back, right now.”



“Mmm...”



“So...what do you say? Will you?”



“I...” *Of course I won’t, are you bloody blind? You think Playboy is real literature!* But
as he looked at me, pleading at me with those bleeding eyes and holding my hand... “Of course I
will.”



~-~-~-~-~-~



(Ginny)



“I get this bed,” I said, laying my suitcase on the grand four-poster bed.



“No bloody way,” Malfoy sneered, his gray eyes glancing around the room. There was one
four-poster bed. One futon. Which would be home to *his* arse, not mine.



“Yes, bloody way,” I shot back, lying down and snuggling my face against the soft, fluffy
pillows. “You must be bleeding Merlin if you think that you can get me off this bed.”



He gave me a sneer and for one moment I was worried. He didn’t strike me as the type who would
have anything against hitting a girl...or doing worse deeds...



“All right,” he muttered, whipping out a wand from under his shirt and whispering, “Wingardium
Leviosa!”



“Bloody hell!” I shrieked as I felt myself being lifted from the bed, trying to hold onto
anything to get back down. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”



“And I do believe this bed is mine,” he said, hopping onto the velvet covers and lying down.



“Bastard,” I muttered before I whipped out my wand, sending a bat-bogey hex his way. He snarled
as the hex hit him straight in the face. Just as his wand faltered I felt gravity grab its hold
onto me and I shrieked as I fell back onto the bed, right onto Malfoy.



“Get off of me!” he yelled, trying to roll out from under me. “And take this goddamn–aaaagh–hex
off of–”



“You’re a wizard?!” I gasped, trying to get my breath back. Falling on my chest wasn’t helping
my lungs any. “You’re a bloody wizard?!”



“No, Weasel, I’m–aaagh–the bleeding Easter Bunny–damn!–get this hex off of–fuck!–me–”



“Get off the bed,” I said, enjoying this rare form of entertainment.



“What?!”



“Get off the bed, and I’ll take the hex off you.”



“You’re a sodding witch!”



“My my, you are observant.” Growling at me he jumped off, taking his wand and pointing it
directly at my face.



“Take it off,” he snarled, and I happily complied. I had, after all, gotten what I wanted.



“Who the bloody fuck are you,” he said slowly, his gray eyes boring into mine. “If my father
sent you, I swear–”



“Woah, Malfoy,” I started, smirking. “I’m sorry to inform you, but sadly enough, it just so
happens that everything doesn’t revolve around your overly inflated, rather disgusting face.”



He glared, gritting his teeth and I could see his grip tighten around his wand.



“The name’s Virginia Weasley. From England.” At his wary glance I added, “Went to Hogwarts.”



“What house?” he asked.



“What?”



“What house were you in?”



“Gryffindor.” Malfoy smirked, his wand lowering.



“So what’re you doing here?”



“Had to get away,” I mumbled, tracing my wand with my fingers nonchalantly. As he frowned at me,
I exasperately explained “I was close friends with Harry Potter, and after the war, we both decided
that it would be best if we left the wizarding world. For a while, at least.”



“Ah, so you were close to Pothead,” Malfoy said, smiling evilly at me. “That explains a
lot.”



“You don’t know him,” I spat, narrowing my eyes. I was despising Malfoy with more passion every
time he reopened that foul mouth of his. He shrugged.



“You think what you want, Weasel.”



“What about you?”



“I’m not obligated to tell you anything.”



“Bastard.”



“You’re a bleeding broken record.”



~-~-~-~-~-~



(Hermione)



“So was he there?” April asked me, twirling her black hair with her finger as she glanced at me
with barely suppressed glee.



“Yes,” I sighed, running my hand through my hair sadly.



“What?” April asked, frowning slightly at seeing the expression on my face. “What happened? Did
he break up with you?”



*Oh, Hell, don’t I wish.*



“He asked me to move in with him.”



“Hermione!” April squealed, racing across the kitchen to hug me fiercely. “I’m so happy for
you!”



“You and only you,” I muttered.



“What?”



“I couldn’t do it, Pri! I couldn’t break up with him!”



“You...wanted...but you’re perfect together!” I frowned.



“Whatever, Pri...” She gave me a side glance, her slanted brown eyes inspecting me.



“Just say no, ‘Mione, if you really don’t like him that much. You are aware that you’ve been
with the boy for *two* years, right?”



“I just can’t turn him down! It’s a problem I’ve had since...since...”



“It doesn’t matter! What matters is you have the problem *now*. So fix it! Read a book on
being more demanding and aggressive, if that’s what it takes! Be a woman, for God’s sake. Use some
boob.”



“E-excuse me?”



“What, do you really want me to tell you to grow some balls?”



“Not particularly...”



“Good. And there’s no reason for you to *grow* some chest,” April said, wiggling her
eyebrows. “Just *use* them. You’ll have a lot to spare.”



“April!” She shrugged, giggling madly.



This is what I get for rooming with a feminist.



~-~-~-~-~-~



“Mmm,” McGonagall said, her lips tight in a deep frown. “Mmm.”



“M-Miss McGonagall?”



“Miss Granger!” she said, her eyes unglazing. “What are you doing here so early?”



“Just thought I would give you the report,” I said, smiling. “What were you doing?”



“Oh, it’s nothing,” she said, waving her left hand and fixing her spectacles with her right.
“The owner of Portkey, Mr. Harry Potter, will be arriving shortly today, and I was just wondering
who should get promoted...the president is retiring, as you know.” I knew my eyes widened.
McGonagall looked at me, a twinkle in her eye as she whispered, “I’m not supposed to say anything,
but you have reason to be smiling, Ms. Granger.” Straightening up, she added, “The employee will
work with Mr. Potter on some marketing ideas...I do believe he’s thinking about adding a female
line to Portkey.”



“A...female line?”



“I guess he wants to horizontally integrate, if I’m not mistaken. In any case, he’ll need a
strong, young woman’s point of view.”



I smiled. It paid to be friends with someone in the higher power.



“Well, here’s the report,” I said, handing her a manilla folder. “I typed it up as soon as I got
home yesturday.”



“On top of things, as usual,” she commented, breezing through my paper. “Excellent work as
well.” Giving me a rare smile she nodded, her glance shifting to my left. “I do believe he’s
arrived. I’ll be seeing you later, Ms. Granger.” Giving me another nod she walked away, heading
towards a blonde bloke near the entrance doors.



“What were you talking to McGonagall about?” Justin said, coming up from behind me and planting
a kiss on my cheek.



“Nothing. Did you know that Harry Potter will be coming today?” I knew Justin idolized the owner
of our *happy* company.



Suddenly, the beautiful man I sat next to on the plane popped into my mind. They had the same
first name...that tantalizing, handsome–



“Of course I knew, Hermy!” I cringed. “I read about it in an article. Did you know that he was
actually planning on becoming a gym teacher? But then he and his best friend Ron Weasley formulated
a plan to–”



I began to tune Justin out right then, not truly caring. I hadn’t even seen a picture of Mr.
Potter. All I knew was that he had to be old, ugly and totally self absorbed. He was, after all,
the second richest bachelor in England. And now as his partner Ron Weasley died, he inherited that
half of Portkey. He was now twice as rich. Lucky bastard. I was much more interested in the
articles about poverty in third-world countries than I was in reading about just how rich Mr.
Potter happened to be.



“Mmm,” I said, nodding my head as Justin rambled on and on.



*Shut up. Really.*



“Attention marketing employees,” a voice on the intercom said. “Please go to meeting room 3B.
Mr. Harry Potter has arrived and is waiting for the 8:00 meeting. I repeat, please go...”



“Off you go, Hermy,” Justin said, smiling at me warmly.



“But Justin, it’s barely even 7:30–"



“Better to be earlyl!” he called as he walked away from me.



There was once a time in my life where I would have been in the first seat at 7:20, eager to be
in a meeting with a prominent, successful business man.



Where *had* that Hermione gone.



~-~-~-~-~-~



“He’s late,” Colin whispered from next to me. I smiled. “It’s already bleeding 8:15. I knew I
could’ve gotten that cheese danish.”



“It’ll make you even more porkier than you already are,” I mumbled back, grinning.



“As you’d know,” he replied, and I softly hit him with my notebook.



“He’s here!” an excited whisper rushed through the meeting room. The blonde man I’d seen
McGonagall talking to earlier walked in.



“Is that Harry Potter?” Colin asked, his eyes wide. “I thought he’d be older.” I shrugged.



“Must be, right?”



“Yeah.”



“Ladies and gentlemen, you are in for a real treat today,” McGonagall started, her eagle eyes
roaming the room. “May I present...Mr. Potter.”



I expected the blonde bloke to take a bow, smile at the rest of us and begin lecturing about how
focus, focus, focus got him to where he is now. That, and gambling, taking risks and some more
focus, focus, focus.



What I did not expect was to have *my* Harry step into the room, his smile force my breath
to lodge in my throat, and his green, beautiful eyes to rest upon me.



“He’s gorgeous,” Penelope moaned, her eyes sparkling.



“Hello,” Harry finally said, his eyes still resting on me.



It took all of my willpower to swallow.



~-~-~-~-~-~



reviewing’s good for the soul...



A/N: If anyone finds Hermione terribly OoC, do tell!



3. Second Chance
----------------

A/N: A really fast update, I know! Aren't you proud of me? But with the storm yesturday, and
the internet and phone being out of commission for a day, I terribly needed something to do.




Tinydancer: Thank you! I got the idea for this story from my little sister Samantha, who told me
about this book she read. She basically told me how it started, and that it was an adorable little
chicky book. I had no idea what the book or author was, and she had forgotten, but looking into the
book you mentioned you're absolutely right. Thanks!




Davaca: Glad that Hermione, in your opinion, wasn't terribly too OoC. But about the
wizarding legal system...I don't know, Draco never striked me as a person who would care too
terribly much about laws. He's in France, he's a certified wizard, and I'm sure he
doesn't mind levitating a muggle-or who he thought was a muggle. But then the fact that Draco
was attacking a fellow witch with a levitating spell probably didn't send off any warning signs
to the ministry of magic over in England anyway. Draco didn't grow up in England-that all gets
explained later. I think I'm starting to confuse myself now....lol.




Akjennymay9, anonymous, and harryherm84: So terribly sorry about the mixup. For some strange
reason I wrote Seamus as Hermione's boyfriend when I began typing up the second chapter; I had
already planned it in my mind that Justin was to be that unfortunate character. Too much sun
intake, I think. In any case, when I went back and edited, I changed what I believed was
everything-evidently, that wasn't the case. Lol. The moment I read your reviews I attacked it
immediately and it is no longer a problem! Yay!




And Harryherm84: I agree, Hermione's not too much of an open girl to complete strangers. But
I have a friend who is totally paranoid about flying-whenever she gets on a plane she goes
ballistic! Goes blabbering on and on and on about nothing and everything, she just can't stop
talking, it's how she reacts to her fright. So I based Hermione on that little fiasco-besides,
I can imagine bookworm Granger babbling on a broomstick, so why not an airplane? Hope it makes a
little more sense.




Austenlover: She's not boy-crazy, you're right. But every smart, intelligent girls gets
dragged into liking a bloke sooner or later in life...*sigh* unfortunately, anyway. Hehe.




Thanks to Mara Jade Potter, hrhermione, Silverfoot (lolt he G-spot! Glad you liked!),
CladdaghRing, carmen11290, omrianh, bamaslamma29 (you're to thank for the work *under* him joke
later in this chapter, hope you don't mind!), angie, hpdancer92, ears91, Jack Ryan, Jenna
Kathleen, Miscard, harrynmione, glitterfairyxoxo, Creepy Susie, Lara, and carmen11290 for all your
supporting comments!




Thanks to you anonymous reviewers as well!




Disclaimer: this fic is based loosely on a book by Sophie Kinsella "Can You Keep a
Secret?"




~-~-~-~-~-~




Girl Boy




Chapter Three: Second Chance




~-~-~-~-~-~




(Hermione)




"Hello," he said, his eyes resting on me. "I'm Harry Potter."




"That you are," Penelope mumbled from next to me, her eyes wandering over his
body.




Again.




I rolled my eyes. What, was he suddenly the male equivalent of the Greek Goddess Aphrodite?




Looking around the room I realized he was.




At least I could promise myself I wouldn't fall for his charmingly good looks or that sexy
voice of his. I'd never given a second glance at any pretty male face since the first
grade...why start now?




He gave me another smile, his green eyes twinkling mischievously before he pointed to the charts
behind him and motioned for the lights to dim.




I will not fall for Harry Potter's charmingly good looks or that sexy voice of
his.




"A regular Romeo," Colin said, grinning cheekily. "I'll have to ask him for
pointers."




I will not fall for Harry Potter's charmingly good looks or that sexy voice of
his.




I'm not Penelope, for God' sake!




"Shut up," I whispered back. "Nothing appealing whatsoever." Colin gave me a
knowing look, wiggling his pen and his eyebrows at the same time.




Boys.




The meeting lasted a bloody two hours, during which I fidgeted nervously. I already knew
everything Harry was lecturing about. I had read all the books on Portkey's history and
founding and marketing statistics the moment I got my job, and of course, had memorized them all
after my third re-read.




Every time I looked up my gaze couldn't help itself. My eyes were just magnetically drawn to
Harry, his smile, his eyes...




"I am so glad that's over," I mumbled as the lights came back on. I quickly
grabbed my things and followed Colin out of the meeting room.




"You weren't even listening to a bloody thing," Colin said, rolling his eyes.
"I know you. You've probably memorized everything to know about Portkey, haven't
you."




"Since before I began the job," I muttered back.




"So what're you doing here? I mean...why aren't you in McGonagall's seat,
getting loads of cash and giving me a promotion?"




"You really think I want to work here, at Portkey?"




"All I know is that you've got potential to gain money! And power! You could finally
shut Clearwater up! What more is there in life?"




"That's why I'm fighting a promotion," I said. As Colin gave me a quizzical
look I shook my head, sighing, "You wouldn't understand."




"Of course I do. The only reason I'm working here is because my cousin does. He got me
a job, you know. Photography doesn't really pay the rent the way it used to."




Colin loved photography. As a kid, he dreamed about taking pictures for magazines like National
Geographic, traveling to exotic places and taking influential photos or going to war and
documenting more than hot new fashions.




Unfortunately, no one is really interested in war documentation or influential photos of exotic
places. What they want is nudity, celebrity, or scandal.




And that's all that pays.




Having morals doesn't pay.




"So...what do you want?" Colin finally asked me. Our desks were in front of each
other; we didn't have real cubicles. They were waist-high walls. "You must want
something other than this shit."




"I don't know," I said. "I've always loved books...maybe a
writer."




"I can see that," Colin said, twirling his pen around his fingers. "You, sitting
in a quaint café in France, sipping on hot coffee while typing frantically on your slim laptop with
your hair spilling out of a loose bun."




"Maybe you should be the writer," I said, smiling at him. Colin always had a way of
making me feel...good.




"Weren't you studying to be a lawyer?"




"Yeah, I was." I turned on my computer and waited for it to load. "But I
didn't like it."




"Too much paperwork?"




"It just didn't fit me. I thought it would, but..."




"Ladies and gentlemen," McGonagall's voice said as she walked into our huge room
of clustered desks. "As you all know, Mr. Potter will be sitting with different departments,
just to see how everything operates. He's requested that he sit amongst the young marketing
department first."




Oh bloody hell.




"Do try to act normal, won't you?" McGonagall said, her glance sweeping the
room.




I could see Penelope fixing her hair, shoving her "the Count of Monte Cristo" book
from underneath stacks of paper into plain view.




Harry walked into the room, a small smile on his face as he surveyed us. Most had picked up the
phone, pretending to be doing something while their eyes darted around in anxiety. Others, like
Penelope, were brushing their hair or acting intellectual, only hoping to catch the attention of
Mr. Potter. Then there was me.




"Hermione, right?" he said. I nearly jumped in the air to find him right next to me,
leaning against my desk.




"Y-yes."




"You get off the plane all right?"




"Yes, thanks..." He smiled at me, that mischievous twinkle in his eyes again.




I could see Penelope send me a death glare. Colin only raised his head from his papers to smirk
at me. Oh bloody hell.




That seemed to be my new favorite phrase of late.




"So, do you find work here at Portkey satisfactory?"




"Y-yes, sir, I do..."




"And what do you usually do during the day?"




"Work." His smile widened, and I felt myself relax a bit. His glance veered left and I
saw him look at Penelope, his smile widen even further.




Okay. All inflating attraction towards Mr. Potter completely popping. Will absolutely not like a
guy who will look at Penelope.




"Miss Clearwater, wasn't it?" he asked, leaning further into my desk
comfortably.




"Penelope," she said, batting her eyelids in what I assume she found flirty. I heard
Colin trying to hide a laugh.




"Do you find work here at Portkey satisfactory?"




"Of course, Harry...may I call you Harry?"




"Of course."




Bloody desperation.




"What's that on your desk?" he asked suddenly, his green eyes twinkling even more.
"Is that 'the Count of Monte Cristo'?"




"Penelope, she thinks she's so much smarter than me, just yesturday she was trying
to inform me that the Iliad, written by Socrates, was the best story she had ever read, I have no
idea how she gets paid better than I do..."




Sodding mouth...




But Harry wasn't really going to do anything...




...I hope, anyway...




"Yes it is," Penelope said, obviously pleased to find that her fake intellect worked
on handsome, sexy men.




What am I thinking, of course I want her to be publicly humiliated!




"That's a personal favorite of mine. Are you liking it so far?"




"Of course. It's a favorite of mine, too." I snorted.




"Have you read any other works of Alexander Dumas? He's really fantastic, I absolutely
love reading anything he's written," Harry breezily said, that smirk still on his face.
"No proper person would go without reading Dumas, am I right?"




"Of course I've read others!"




"Which ones?" I saw Penelope's smile falter slightly, and glancing at Harry, saw
his smile widen.




"Three Musketeers," I whispered breezily, not helping myself and smiling widely.




"Sorry, Hermione, did you say something?" Harry said, smiling at me.




"I just said the 'Three Muskateers.'"




"Ah, another favorite of mine."




"'The Count' is so much more brilliant," I said, my mind instantly going into
overdrive. Books? I knew books! "The plot is flawless, and how everything comes together in
the end! Oh it was magnificent...a true classic. And the characters, my heart reached out for
Edmund..." I stopped talking, suddenly realizing that everyone was staring at me. Looking to
Harry I saw that his eyes were gazing into mine and I couldn't help but blush. Damn him.




"I've also read 'the Iliad.'" Penelope tried to get back into the
conversation. "I love Socrates' work, too."




"I'm sure he'd love to hear you say that," Harry finally said, smiling
widely.




Suddenly, my day didn't seem so bad.




"You and Hermione are just both the little bookworms," he said, and I could see him
trying to hold back from laughing.




"Of course," Penelope said, swinging her hair around her shoulder so that it cascaded
down her back. "We're the best of friends, me and Hermione."




"I'm sure," was all Harry said on the matter, giving me a wink when she turned
away.




He really needed to stop that.




For my own bloody sake.




...and possible sanity.




~-~-~-~-~-~




(Ginny)




"You can't write something you'd never read," I said, pacing the front of the
classroom as the assembled audience quickly jotted down notes. "A judge of how good you've
written something is to take another look at it. Pretend you're a third person, read it without
being biased, and ask yourself, 'Would I read that?'"




Looking around I noticed that most of the people in the audience were young blokes and girls,
late teens or early twenties. Sprinkled in were a few that looked a bit over thirty.




"And if you would never read anything your writing because the topic is too dull, or
you're not interested, then ask yourself another question. 'Why the bloody hell am I
writing this?'"




Ah, I knew I'd enjoy this. Coming here was definitely a good idea.




Taking a glance at my watch I stopped walking, smiling at everyone as I began to pack up my
things.




"Tomorrow, we'll look into creative writing."




"Will Mr. Malfoy be coming in?" a young girl in the back squeaked.




That bloody bastard? In my classroom? I think-




"Yes." I whipped around to find Malfoy standing at the door, leaning against the
doorway in his usual arrogant manner.




"What are you doing here?" I muttered to him, glaring from under my stray hairs.
"What, was there no one to entertain in your own classroom?"




"I didn't have one scheduled today," he said, examining his fingernails.




"You may all go," I said over my shoulder. Turning back to Malfoy I finished the clasp
on my brief case and giving him a glare, walked past him.




"You know, I think I might've bruise my beautiful back last night."




What, did he suddenly need a bloody companion?




"None of my concern," I said breezily, slipping on my sunglasses.




"I do find it is," he said, strolling easily beside me. Damn his long legs. "It
is, after all, your fault that I had to sleep on that horrible futon."




"Tell someone who cares, Malfoy," I muttered.




"You'll care once I'm in the hospital, and I give you the bill to my spine
operation." Stepping in front of me he smirked, his blonde hair billowing deliciously against
the wind.




"Why not just transfigure the futon with that wand in your pants?" Feeling evil, I
looked down and added, "Or maybe you'll have to charm one on as well." His smirk
evaporated.




"Bloody wench," he said.




"What do you want, Malfoy, because it couldn't be my delightful company."




"And if it was?"




"I'd have to curse you for sexual harassment."




"Claws, Weasley," he said, smirking again. "I just wanted to know if you were
hungry."




"Why?"




"There's a quaint little café around the corner I heard about." Noticing the look
on my face, he added, "I'm not up to dealing with the mobs of women attracted by my
devilish good looks and charm today. But if I hang you on my arm, it might diminish the numbers
slightly."




"You ferret," I said, glaring at him.




"Come on then, we're late for our reservation."




~-~-~-~-~-~




(Hermione)




"Oh, he's such a dear," Penelope said, sighing happily. "I just know it.
He's going to ask me out any day now..." Giggling madly, she waved to an invisible person
and replied, "Of course no one can resist my charms, Gigi!"




"Whore," I muttered under my breath. Colin smirked, shaking his head as he continued
working. "You thirsty?" I asked him.




"Of course."




"Want some coffee?"




"Of course not."




"Shall I get some for us?"




"Of course."




Laughing slightly I grabbed our two coffee mugs and walked out in the direction of the coffee
maker, humming. As I turned the corner I noticed it was gone.




"What happened to the coffee maker?" I asked the woman who worked right near it.
"Did someone stick their panties in the nozzle again?"




"No," she said, laughing. "Mr. Potter just came by and demanded that it be
removed and replaced."




"And that awful coffee maker, I swear, it makes the most horrible coffee ever presented
to man..."




"Oh," I said, nodding as I backed away. "Thanks."




Hm. He actually listened to me during my freak show on that god forsaken plane.




Interesting.




~-~-~-~-~-~




"A woman should be able to use everything in her power to gain the upper hand."




"Including sex?"




"I say God gave us a vagina, why shouldn't we not use it?"




"But it's...sacred!"




"What are you, a bloody nun?"




It was our usual Wednesday night card game. Me and April, along with our two college friends,
Melissa and Samantha, would meet at our apartment every Wednesday to keep in touch. It was our way
of promising that we would never lose our friendships. And our Wednesday night card game was holy.
Miss it and you'll be faced with the wrath of three other conniving women. Nobody wanted
that.




"You girls are horrible," April said, frowning at Melissa. "Sex is
overrated."




"There's a reason prostitution is a certified career, Pri," Melissa said, nodding
at Sam.




"That's right," Sam agreed, grinning. "I mean, imagine getting paid for being
pleasured!"




"Remind me to never introduce the two of you to my mother," I said, shuffling the deck
of cards.




"Too late," Sam said, laughing. "I bumped into her while I was in grocery store,
'Mione. She actually remembered me!"




"Well, you broke our glass vase, insulted my uncle's toupee and accidently offended my
mum's cooking. I imagine that's hard to forget." Sam grinned at me, taking the deck
from my hands to spread the cards evenly between the four of us.




"So, let us begin our weekly ritual." Melissa slipped on her glasses, smiling at me. I
rolled my eyes. They loved to mock me. "First, boys."




"Nothing here," Sam said. "After the episode with Matt in the bar I haven't
been able to even look at a guy."




"Just drink a few," Melissa advised. "And go to a different bar."




"Well, Josh is still in America. You think he's having an affair?" Pri asked.




"Having a girl like you? He must want miracles in bed if he's desperate enough for an
affair," I said, laughing as Pri giggled. "He doesn't strike me as the affair
type."




"And those are the ones you have to watch out for," Melissa said. "'Mione,
what's up with Justin?"




"Still together."




"Still?!" Sam said, outraged. "I thought we convinced you to break up with him
weeks ago!"




"I think they're a good couple," Pri interjected. "He's a nice
guy."




"Nice, certainly, but 'Mione needs spice in her life," Melissa said. "Any hot
blokes at work?"




"No, never date a guy from work," Sam said, shaking her head.




"She's already dated Justin for two years," Pri added in.




"No, there's no one," I said, shaking my head. I loved my girls.




"What about that Potter fellow? Isn't he in town? God, he's gorgeous!" Melissa
smiled, waving her hand as if she were fanning herself.




"You guys remember that man I told you about, the one next to me on the plane?" They
nodded. April had put us on the speaker phone and three way called Melissa and Sam the moment I got
home. "Well..."




"Don't tell me he's the same Harry!" Sam exclaimed, her eyes wide with
excitement.




"Yup."




"Oh Gosh, 'Mione, this is a sign!" Pri said, nearly jumping up and down. April, as
logical and politically correct as she was, still believed heavily on horoscopes and astronomy. How
is that politically possible?




"A sign of what?"




"No, she's right, 'Mione," Melissa said. "This is the typical
chick-flick. You meet a handsome, charming man. You have chemistry, but wave it away as a one-time
thing."




"Then he reappears in your life, almost magically," Sam said, giggling. "Come on
Hermione, you know it's exactly from a romance novel!"




"I read real literature," I said, rolling my eyes. "Besides, he's
not that good looking. He's my boss, for God's sake!"




Melissa was giving me her scrutinizing eye, narrowing her eyes at me. Suddenly she smiled, and I
knew exactly what was coming.




"You like him," she whispered.




"What?" Sam said, glancing from Melissa to me.




"You like him!" she said, smiling happily.




"Please," April said, looking at me then back to Melissa. "He's her boss! She
works under him! Her future is in his hands, she knows not to get romantically
involved."




"That's exactly it," Melissa said, grinning. "He probably wants her to
work under him."




"Oh, gross!" I exclaimed, laughing. "That's disgusting!"




"You may not be boy-crazy, Hermione, but I've heard no one escapes Potter's
charm," Melissa said, nodding at me. "He wasn't named the number one most wanted
bachelor without a reason."




"Potter mania," Sam chirped in.




"Are we going to play cards any time soon?" I said exasperated.




"Come now, Hermione, just admit you have something for your dear boss," Melissa
demanded.




"I do not!"




"Don't try to lie out of this one, 'Mione," she said, raising one eyebrow.
"Just admit it."




"I'm not boy-crazy."




"Not saying you are."




"But you-"




"You just have a thing for this Mr. Potter," she said, smiling that smile again.
"You're Harry-crazy. Knew you were since you described him on the phone."
Noticing my expression, she added, "God's given you another chance at a delicious man!
Take advantage of it! Lord knows I need some of those."




Ah, bullocks. I did not have a thing for Harry Potter.




As delicious as he was.




~-~-~-~-~-~




reviewing's good for the soul...




A/N: Samantha, one of Hermione's friends, is inspired by my own little sister. The scene
with Penelope, Harry and Hermione was animated by something my cousin said to me about his own
experience with cat-fights. Don't ask, lol.






4. Contemplation
----------------

A/N: sorry I didn’t update for a while...was trying to update my other stories as I’ve been
ignoring them. I hate promoting my other stories but “Fading” hasn’t been getting much feedback and
I would be ever so grateful if anyone who likes D/G read it and review!



Anasazi: I’ve never actually seen Sex and the City! Weird, huh? My sister absolutely loves it
though...



Chica and noodleashy143: check out the disclaimer in the third chapter–ur absolutely write about
what the beginning of this story is based on!



Thanks to Lara Dennis, Nadja, XxBandGeekxX, SilverFoot (just wait for it! lol),
ChocolateFrogsForBreakfast, Angie, MisCard, pryo23, Austenlover, Larissa, Hermiones Phoenix,
glitterfairyxoxoxo, angelxdust, Gwendalynn Shaw, kween of green, pottergranny, Firey Hot,
harrynmione, tkra, akjennymay9 (I completely agree about the reality!), kitty254781, hpdancer92,
Gabbychan!, MANGO, Water Lily, One Regert, omrianh, and anonymous reviewers for all your supporting
comments! Never did I think that this story would be nearly as popular as it is–thanks!!



A few of my friends who aren’t on portkey have mentioned that they think I have excess scenes
where it’s just dialogue. I guess they find it that I write too many filler scenes...does anyone
agree? Or does anyone like it? Please say so in your review!



~-~-~-~-~-~



Girl Boy



Chapter Four: Contemplation



~-~-~-~-~-~



(Hermione)



“...What?!”



“C’mon, Hermione, it’s a proven fact!”



“You are bloody insane.”



“It salvaged what Dan and I had...I think it’s the only reason he’s with me now!”



“So you’re telling me, Liss, that the only reason Josh is with you is because you shag him at
work?”



“You don’t have to make it sound so dirty, ‘Mione.”



“Augh.” I shook my head, continuing to wash the dishes. “You’re as bad as Penelope.”



“I don’t shag my boss for a raise,” Melissa replied, leaning on the counter. “Really...I mean,
for real, ‘Mione, what do you and Justin do to excite your life?”



“That’s why I want out!” I exclaimed, setting April’s favorite dish harshly in the sink.
“There’s nothing left!”



“You’ve been with Justin for two bloody years!” she said back, smirking slightly. “Of course
it’s going to get a little dull. Haven’t you ever wondered why so few people get married? They
don’t want their lives to get so dry and wrinkled that it resembles a cactus. Life’s about
exploring, isn’t it?”



“You’ve been reading too much Cosmo,” I retorted, snorting.



“But seriously,” she said, tucking a strand of brown hair behind her ear. “You need to do
something to put that spark back in your relationship...something like shagging at work. It’s
exciting! Rare!”



“I am not shagging at work,” I said, shaking the dishtowel in Melissa’s face. “You know how
absolutely wrong that is? Besides, I’m about to get promoted! Imagine McGonagall’s face, no, even
worse, her *opinion* of me if she finds me in my office screwing a fellow employee!”



“Your boyfriend of two years,” April corrected. “Just...think about it, hm? I thought Dan was
boring, dull...I was about to dump him, remember? But after an exciting rump I found out that there
was still some juice in our relationship.”



“You girls are disgusting,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “No wonder men think that we’re
sluts!”



“That’s a little harsh,” Melissa said, frowning.



“Point closed. I will not rump in my office!”



“If you had one, you know you would be so tempted,” she replied, grinning. “And now that you’re
getting promoted and you’re *getting* an office...”



“Enough!”



“Well, that’s okay...I mentioned it to Justin, so if he0 `. brings it up don’t think that–”



“What?!”



“I met him at the grocery store...he actually asked me if there was anything wrong with you!
Said that you weren’t returning his calls and such...well, I mentioned that maybe he might want to
brighten up your sex life. So of course the dim witted creature asked how do to do it! Even asked
if aroma therapy would do anything...as if candles could get you horny...so I told him an escapade
in the office might do something.”



“Oh my bloody God!”



My life was ruined.



“Goodness, Hermione, there’s a reason a girl like you is so bloody uptight.”



Oh my bloody God.



“I thought you didn’t like Justin!” I exclaimed, wiping the counter with a rag.



“You’re right,” she said, frowning as her eyes glanced out the window. “I don’t. But I hate
seeing you like this, you know. All...”



“Like I usually am?”



“Precisely!”



“Melissa...”



“It’s not healthy. Being all uptight and such. You’ve already got wrinkles!”



“I do not!”



“Do too! Okay, forget the wrinkles. You barely laugh anymore! Smiling’s a rarity. You never pig
out the way you used to–”



“Don’t women usually pig out when they’re depressed?” I mentioned, but she ignored me.



“Any form of coziness or happiness has evaporated from your flat, with the exception of April’s
bedroom. I remember in our college days when you used to be all...all...”



“Not like this?” I said sarcastically, but she frantically nodded and smiled.



“You’re finally catching on!”



“Look, having sex with Justin isn’t going to do anything.”



“Then break up with him already! The only reason I’m pushing you to do something is because I
know that you won’t dump him until he gives you an extremity!”



“An extremity?”



“You know, like he cheats on you or whatnot. But I know you’re just waiting for him to break up
with you, because you know that he’s too goody-ass to do anything.”



“Melissa...”



This was starting to give me a headache.



“What about that Harry fellow? Now that’s a nice piece of ass. I bet *he* can find your
G-spot–”



“Melissa!”



“Well fine, just completely ignore any forms of wisdom that I mercifully give you.”



“Already did.”



“Fine.” Melissa gave me a smile and grabbed her purse from off the kitchen table, sliding it on
her shoulder and fingering with the clasp. “But just think about it, hm? Imagine being free and
being able to chase after a man like Harry Potter...and then imagine being stuck with Justin.”



I sighed.



“Could you stand being called Hermione Fitch-Fletchey? Or Hermione Fitch-Fletchey-Granger?”



“Melissa...”



“Then imagine Hermione Potter.”



“I’m fine with Hermione Granger, thanks.”



Melissa shrugged, giving me another smile and walking to the direction of our door.



“Tell April I said hi,” she shouted from the hallway.



My life must be extremely messed up if Melissa Leving starts to make sense.



But all the same...Hermione Fitch-Fletchey?



Augh.



~-~-~-~-~-~



(Ginny)



“I can’t...um...” I stuttered uncomfortably as we waited for the waiter to deliver our food.
Malfoy raised one delicate eyebrow at me, waiting for me to finish. “I just...I can’t
really...um...pay...”



“Pay for what?” he asked, taking a sip from his champagne glass.



“Well...for my food...you ordered four times what I can eat...”



“Why would you pay for your food?” he questioned, a smirk forming on his lips.



“W-well...I...” Damn. I hate being poor.



“Come on, Weasley,” he said, unfolding his napkin and placing it delicately onto his lap. “You
didn’t honestly think that I would ask you to lunch and then make you pay for your own food?”



“Well this isn’t a date, and I don’t take advantage of–”



“You aren’t taking advantage,” he said gently, taking another sip.



“But I–”



“And it is a date,” he said, smirking at me.



“Voici vos salades,” the waiter said, breaking the mood as he laid down our salads before
us.



“Merci,” Malfoy said, grabbing his salad fork and taking a small bite. “Not bad,” he muttered.
“Donnez mes compliments au cuisinier,” he said to the waiter.



“Merci, monsieur,” the waiter said, taking a slight bow before walking away.



“You speak French?” I asked, smiling in awe.



“Yes,” he said inbetween bites. “I was actually brought up here.”



“But I thought–”



“My mother was an English woman who loved my father...but he was a Deatheater. I assume you know
what those are?” he asked, smirking at me. Satisfied at the look on my face he continued. “She had
been forced into marriage by her parents who wanted riches and power...but she ran away to France
once she had me, determined to bring up her son without the influence of dark arts.”



“Lucius Malfoy,” I muttered, suddenly noticing the resemblance between the two. How could I have
been so bloody blind?



“Yes,” Malfoy muttered, staring at his salad. “He tried to come and claim me when I was
eleven...but my mother refused. He tried to kill her...”



“That’s awful,” I whispered.



“But she managed to grab me and apparate to Beaxbatons. She was friends with the headmistress
there...and managed to secure a home at the castle, a small room, and I attended Beaxbatons for
seven years,” Malfoy finished, taking another bite of salad.



“I’m sorry,” I muttered, looking down at my own salad.



“Don’t be,” he said, grabbing the dressing and sprinkling it over his dish. “The only reason I
told you is because I figure you’d understand.” Glancing at my face he added, “You know, being
friends with Pothead and all.”



“Why do you do that?” I asked, pushing my salad aside.



“You should really eat that,” Malfoy said, pointing his fork at my salad. “I’m paying good money
for it.”



“Why do you always call Harry ‘Pothead’? You’ve known me for, what, a day? And you assume that
I’m free and ready to drool all over you?”



“I’m feeding you,” he said simply, patting his mouth with his napkin. “Giving you an oppurtunity
to eat delicious French food. Merlin knows you wouldn’t be able to afford this by yourself–”



“Why do you always do that!” I exclaimed, glaring at him. “Act like you’re superior! Pretend
like you’re better than all of us!”



“I’m a Malfoy,” he said simply, as if it were the most obvious fact in the world. “I
*am.*”



“Oh, right, so being the son of a deranged Deatheater makes you brilliant!”



The moment I said it I desperately wanted to take it back. Malfoy looked like he had been
slapped across the face, his jaw clenched as he blinked at me.



“Malfoy, I–”



“Go,” he said, shaking his head as he took another bite of his salad.



“W-what?”



“Being with filth like you would require me to take another shower before my next class, which I
have no time for.” Taking a glance up at me I saw his steely gray eyes narrow. “Really, Weasley.
You’re contaminating my air.”



“Fine,” I said, getting up. Swiveling around angrily I walked out. The bastard. Can’t believe I
was ever sorry for him.



Yet as I walked back to the university our sessions were located I couldn’t help but compare his
eyes. Normally they were piercing, a cold stone that diamond couldn’t even penetrate. But when he
talked about his past...about his mother. I couldn’t help but see them differently. They looked
almost...almost warm. Gentle. Eyes I wouldn’t mind waking up to.



Augh. I did *not* just think that. Bloody bastard!



~-~-~-~-~-~



(Hermione)



“A...a bookcase?”



“Yes.”



“And a desk.”



“Yes.”



“And...and a *window*...”



“Yes.” McGonagall smiled at me as I gazed happily around my new office, entranced by how...how
*me* it was.



“It’s beautiful...”



“Now, Ms. Granger, here is your schedule.” McGonagall handed me a black leather portfolio, the
word “Portkey” etched on the bottom right. “If you’ll notice, you have a meeting with Mr. Potter in
his office in three hours. If you go to the next tab...” McGonagall opened the portfolio up even
farther, pointing to a different schedule, “...this is what you are expected to finish. It’s like a
checklist.”



“I see it,” I said, smiling at the paper.



“I trust you to get acquainted with everything,” McGonagall finally said. “I normally have my
newly-promoted employee under my careful watch...but...” She gave me another rare smile and walked
out of my office, leaving me to look around at my surroundings some more.



“Knock knock,” Colin said, sliding past my door and stepping in. He whistled, grinning at me.
“So this is where the big boys work.”



“Big girls,” I corrected, smiling at him from behind my desk.



“I’ll be expecting a raise any time now,” he replied, walking over to my bookcase. “Wow...you
even get a bookcase...”



“Brilliant, huh?”



“Bloody brilliant.” He took a step back, resting his hands in his pockets as he scanned the room
once more. “You know, ‘Mione, I–”



“Hermione?” The door opened and Harry walked in, a small smile on his face. “Oh, hello,
Creevey.”



“Mr. Potter,” Colin said, nodding in acknowledgment.



“I thought our meeting was supposed to be in–”



“It is,” he interrupted me, smiling again. “I just wanted to make sure you were moving in all
right.”



“Oh...well...thanks...”



“Creevey,” Harry said suddenly, turning to him.



“Y-yes?” Colin stuttered, suddenly looking frightful. I know how much he feared getting
fired...he was already backing up on his rent...



“You’re a photographer, right?”



“I...well, that is to say...”



“Ms. McGonagall thinks that adding a female line to portkey would increase our profits by at
least 65%...we’ve been looking into advertisements, but nothing has really...well...it would seem
that we’re selling lingerie more than we’re selling anything else. And I remember seeing your name
in a few of my friends’ houses...what was that collection called...”



“Daily?” Colin asked eagerly.



“That’s it,” Harry replied, his green eyes twinkling. “My friends are huge fans of art...said
that your work, what did they say...’captured water is if it were flowing,’ or something or the
other.”



“That one’s one of my favorites,” Colin said, breaking into one of his grins. “I didn’t think
anyone would’ve enjoyed it, much less buy it.”



“Well I think that your touch might just be what we need. I’m having a job convincing the board,
but...”



“Yes, Mr. Potter!” Colin exclaimed, his round face full of excitement. “Oh, you don’t know what
this means to me! This...this...wow...” I hadn’t seen Colin like this since...well, for a long
time.



“Don’t thank me just yet,” Harry said, who was laughing and smiling just as much as Colin
was.



Colin thanked Harry for at least ten minutes before McGonagall popped her head in to wonder if
Colin actually believed he would get paid for socializing. With an apologetic glance in my way and
an eager grin at Harry, he slipped out.



“That was sweet,” I said, smiling at Harry.



“What was?” he asked, raising his eyebrows at me.



“You could have easily gotten a professional photographer...”



“Creevey’s better than a lot of professionals I’ve consulted with,” Harry said breezily, wafting
his hand through the air. “Besides...it’s been a while since I’ve seen anyone with his
passion.”



“There’s a lack of it in the world,” I added, nodding. “You...you don’t know what this means to
him...”



Harry smiled, and I could just feel my pulse quicken.



“Same goes for you.”



“Wh-what?” He walked towards me, his gaze unwavering.



“There’s something about you, Hermione,” he said as he was about two feet away from me. I felt
myself instinctively back away. Too quickly the back of my knees bumped into my desk and I gripped
the edge with my hands, swallowing. Harry continued to walk towards me, completely disregarding the
fact that I was backing away. He stopped when he was about a foot in front of me, his face mere
inches from my own. His gaze lowered to my lips and I nervously licked my bottom lip. My mouth was
suddenly dry. “Something I can’t put my finger on,” he added. He smiled, those green eyes peering
into my terrified brown ones. Oh how I wanted to kiss him... I felt him hesitate, his eyes
uncertain before he leaned in. I closed my eyes, my lips tingling with anticipation. “I’ll see you
in two hours,” he whispered before I felt a loss of body warmth. I quickly opened my eyes, blinking
as I saw him walk out of my office.



Oh bloody hell. I almost kissed my boss.



“Hermy!”



Not now. Please, please God not now...



“Hey, Justin,” I said, desperately swallowing as I saw him walk in.



“You’ve gotten promoted!” he said, looking around my office. “Bloody hell, your office is twice
the size of mine!”



“Got lucky, I suppose,” I said, smiling weakly at him.



“Oh, don’t give me that rubbish.” Walking towards me he leaned in for a kiss, and in that brief
moment when our lips touched all I could think was I wished it were Harry’s instead of Justin’s.
“You’ve worked your bloody arse to land here, and now you finally have.” He said it as if I had
always wanted this job. “How about we celebrate? Dinner tonight?”



“I...I can’t...”



“Oh? Why?”



“I have to...um...” My gaze fell to my planner. “I have a dinner meeting with Har–Mr. Potter. We
have to go over things...you know...”



“Ah,” Justin said, nodding. “Of course. Wow. You get to work with Harry Potter...that’s amazing,
Hermy!”



“Yeah...amazing...”



I just hoped my plan didn’t backfire. Knowing my luck? I knew it would.



~-~-~-~-~-~



reviewing’s good for the soul...



A/N: the french up there was from www.dictionary.com
from that translator section. If it’s completely wrong, I’m sorry...I take Spanish, not French,
hehe. My bad. And yes, her plan will backfire! I’m sure everyone knows exactly what’s
happening...hehehehee...I’m soo looking forward to writing it...Justin and the “rump in the office”
will come up later, at least I think so. Gotta love Melissa.



5. Preparation
--------------

A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed! I’m sorry I can’t do single thanks right now, but I’m so
swamped–it’s a wonder I even got this finished! I’ve been at a long family vacation in Disney World
for a while, hence why I haven’t updated, but while I was there I got inspired for three other
stories–they’re in the process right now of being completed (or started, lol). Look out for them!
I’m trying to finish or at least majorly continue my current fics before I get them out, but I
dunno...also, excuse the poor grammar. I haven’t the time to go over this, and my non-updatedness
is gnawing in guilt away at me!who cares what I’m saying, go out and read! Read!!!



~-~-~-~-~-~



Girl Boy



Chapter Five: Preparation



~-~-~-~-~-~



(Hermione)



I moved happily into my new office. Before I knew it time had unfurled and I suddenly found
myself almost ready to have that meeting with Harry Potter.



As I walked to his office that brief moment when our lips almost kissed began to haunt me. I had
felt his warm breath on my lips...oooh how I’d wanted him to lean in just a few more
centimeters...



I took a deep breath before raising my hand to knock on his door. Yet before my knuckles even
touched the dark wood it opened and I immediately saw two emerald eyes peering amusingly at me.



“You’re early,” was his simple statement. Harry opened the door further and I walked in, holding
my portfolio close to my chest.



“I try to make a habit of being early,” I finally replied. He smiled.



“You’ll go far with that habit.”



I smiled nervously.



“I was always late to my classes when I was younger...sometimes I wished that I had someone
there to scold me, you know? But...”



“Where’d you go to school?” I saw him frown and immediately regretted what I’d said. “I’m sorry,
I didn’t mean–”



“It’s not that,” he interrupted, that smile back on his face. “It’s just...I don’t have the best
of memories there, that’s all.”



“Oh,” was all I could muster.



“I went to Hogwarts,” he said as he rested his hands on his desk. “It’s a...a private school on
the outskirts of England. But enough about me...” Harry went to his desk and opened a purple
folder, jagged notes covering post-its.



“Oh, r-right,” I stuttered, opening my own portfolio.



“I don’t know anything about girls,” Harry said, grinning. “That was always Ron’s expertise. And
everyone else I’m working with are hogs...so...” He turned to me, running a hand through his hair.
“I’ll be desperately needing your wonderful, feminine insights.”



“That I can do.”



“Good. To be honest, I wanted to talk to you alone for a few minutes before we had a board
meeting...at 3:30 I’m going to call everyone into meeting room 3A and brainstorm on possible
products that would parallel what we already have. But um...Hermione...”



Oh, bloody hell. He had *that* look again.



“I just wanted to tell you that–”



Harry was interrupted by a knock, and looking slightly disappointed he called out, “Come in.”
And who *else* could it *possibly* be walking in on us.



I really, really despised God right about now. In fact, I was beginning to question his
existence. But then again, *someone* had to ruin my life for me...



“Mr. Potter, I have the reports you...Hermione?”



“Hello, Justin...”



Ah bloody fucking hell...



“What’re you...doing?” Justin’s eyes darted from Harry to me and I sighed, looking away.



“Thanks, Justin,” Harry said, stepping forward and taking the stack of papers from Justin. “We
were just having a small meeting before the board assembles. I needed her opinion on a possible
product.”



“A meeting? But...aren’t the two of you having a dinner meeting? Why would...” Justin was
looking suspicious now, his jaw set.



Oh, no.



“A dinner meeting?” Harry blinked, before I could see a grin forming on his face. “Of course. I
almost forgot, what with all this commotion...I would’ve asked her then, but I wanted to have
everything ready before the board meeting commenced...you understand, don’t you?”



“O-of course,” Justin said, blinking as he looked at Harry. Trust Harry to talk out of
everything... “I didn’t mean to...well...there you are, then. Do you need anything else?”



“No, this is great, thanks.” Harry smiled at Justin and Justin nodded, his eyes glancing to me
before he turned around to walk out. I exhaled; had I really been holding my breath that entire
time? A slight click was heard through the room before Harry turned to me, an amused grin flirting
with his lips. “So...a dinner meeting?”



“W-well...I...” I blushed, chewing on my bottom lip as I tried to coherently think. When had
thinking been this hard for me?



“Was I ever going to know about this dinner meeting?” Harry asked, his grin growing wider as I
grew redder. I could just feel the air simmer from the surface of my face.



“I...um...Justin, he’s...well...”



“I guess that means I’m picking you up at eight, then?”



“Wh-what?” I looked up and saw Harry smiling at me, his eyes blazing happily.



“For our dinner meeting. You can pick the restaurant.”



“B-but...”



“I really like Italian, just so you know.”



“You can’t be serious!” I finally said.



“Why not?” Harry asked, his eyebrows raising slightly. “What’s the point of having a dinner
meeting without the dinner?”



“But this isn’t...” I opened my mouth to argue but found that nothing was coming out.



Damnit, I was stuck.



“This isn’t what?” he finally asked.



“This isn’t...professional,” I answered weakly, my eyes falling to the floor. Harry walked
closer–I could see his shiny shoes moving closer, anyway–and before I knew it his finger was
underneath my chin and my face was being pulled up to meet his.



“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he said, his green eyes serious. God damnit his eyes
were beautiful...



“N-no,” I stuttered, smiling up at him. “You didn’t.”



“Okay,” he said, his eyes glancing at my lips before coming up to rest on my eyes.



Do I go on a dinner meeting with Harry Potter? Part of me said that we were merely working into
the night...taking our jobs home with us, so to speak. But I think I knew that if I went into
this...we might not reemerge business partners. I didn’t want to betray Justin.



“So what do you say?” he finally asked.



And I made the mistake of looking up at his eyes.



“Yes,” I muttered breathlessly.



“Eight it is,” he replied, grinning.



~-~-~-~-~-~



"Diet-pills?"



"Abortion pills."



"Chocolate."



Oh, my bloody God.



"My wife enjoys knitting."



"Thongs?"



No wonder these men were either single or helplessly stuck in marriage.



I shook my head and sighed, rubbing my temples. At the beginning of the meeting Harry had asked
what came into our minds when we thought of products women would be most interested in buying. And
this is what they were coming up with?



"Cheap clothes."



"Shoes?"



"Porn, maybe?"



How the bloody hell was this professional?



"Gentlemen," Harry interrupted, looking highly amused. "Please...be
serious."



"I am!" the man to my right said. "Women are all about diet and keeping their
figure. Its on the top of their priority list."



"Oh, is it?" I asked him harshly. He recoiled slightly at the tone of my voice, his
eyes narrowing at the disgust evidence on my face.



"Yes," he replied icily.



Well, you’re a bloody embecile.



"Ms. Granger...you haven’t uttered a word throughout the entire meeting. Would you like to
contribute some thoughts?" I looked up and saw Harry’s pleading eyes.



"Well...considering that our top market sells currently are our sports drinks and sports
bars...there are women athletes as well. Surely they would want drinks and nutrition bars directed
towards them?"



"Women don’t want drinks and bars," the man sitting across from me chortled.



"Then what do they want? I highly doubt you would know," I spat. He glared at me.



"Women want men. Comfortable lifestyles at home. Maybe if we advertise that our products
provide security--"



"We don't want security!" I nearly shouted.



It always annoyed me when men believed they knew what we wanted. It was all that bloody
publicity and tabloids and all those bleeding celebrities. Women were made out to be sluts,
shopaholics, and *only* that. Men?! *Security*?! Please.



“We want independence, equality. Women are still degraded in sports, thought inferior to men...I
think that’s the angle we should go with. The fact that women will become and remain equal to the
opposite sex.”



Half the guys in the room looked at me as if I had grown two heads...granted, at the company
picnics, the men dominated at the volleyball and kickball games. Their gaze just told me, “But
women *are* inferior.”



Just because *Penelope and I* were horrible at sports didn’t mean all women were!



“Well, let’s all go have a breather, hm?” Harry said, shuffling his papers around and stacking
them neatly on top of each other. “We’ll regroup tomorrow morning at 8:00. Any questions?”



Everyone shook their heads and slowly all of us rose from our seats. Half the men gave me glares
on their way out...the other half saved fleeting smiles as they turned away.



“Hermione?” I turned around to notice Dean at my right. I had never talked to Dean...it wasn’t
because I disliked him, however. We just never crossed paths. I saw him frequently at company
picnics and in the coffee room...



“Yes?”



“I just wanted to say that I think what you said today? It was awesome.”



“Oh, well, it wasn’t anything really–”



“Usually the newbies keep their mouth shuts and just nod along with the rest of the cows, you
know? But you were open, direct...completely disagreed with Lee and Harvey. That’s big...I mean,
almost nobody contradicts them.”



“Yes, well...they didn’t know much about women, did they?”



“No,” Dean replied, smiling at me. It caught me then how attractive he was. “I was
wondering...would you want to grab some coffee? Anything better than what’s here?”



“I would love to, but...” I saw Harry from the corner of my eye watching me, an unreadable
expression on his face. “...but I’ve already made plans for tonight.”



The thought *I have a boyfriend, sorry* didn’t even cross my mind until the guilt washed
over me.



“Allright then,” Dean said, nodding at me as he began to walk backwards. “I’ll see you tomorrow,
then?”



I gave him a little wave and he threw me another grin before walking out of the meeting
room.



Is it possible to cheat on a boyfriend with *two* men?



“Hermione?” Harry was standing next to me suddenly, a hand extended. “May I have the honor of
walking you out?”



“My apartment’s not far from here, Mr. Potter,” I said as professionally as I could, gathering
my papers to my chest. “I’ll be fine.”



“I need to know where to pick you up anyways,” he said, his hand still outstretched.



I hesitated, but gently lay my hand in the palm of his. I couldn’t help but feel a slight
tingling from that sensation...



Suddenly, that ten minute walk to my apartment seemed much too short.



~-~-~-~-~-~



“Here it is. The bible.” I raised an eyebrow and waited for April to pull whatever the bloody
hell it was from the plastic bag she was holding. She wiggled her eyebrows, waiting for a dramatic
pause, and then pulled out a small black book.



“‘The worst-case scenario survival handbook: Dating and Sex’?” I read, disbelief evident in my
voice. “What the bloody hell?”



“I saw it today in the bookstore and bought it. Isn’t it great?”



“I ordered you to go to the bookstore and get me another copy of ‘A Catcher in the Rye,’ because
you lost my last one, and you buy me *this*?!”



“You’re welcome,” she said, patting my arm gently and smiling. “It’s about time you read
*real* literature, Hermione,” she joked, mocking me. “There’s a reason I lost that book, you
know...”



“It’s a marvelous book,” I countered, frowning at this “survival handbook.”



“I just can’t believe I missed Harry,” April moaned, looking out the window. “How could you let
him into the flat and not let me see him?”



“I didn’t let him in...and besides, you’ll see him tonight.”



“Yeah, but when he’s ready for a date! You have to judge the guy when he’s in his usual
attire...”



“It’s not a date, Pri! How many times do I have to tell you this?”



“Well, it’s certainly not a dinner meeting...” She sighed, glancing at me from over her shoulder
and muttering, “Poor Justin.”



I sighed, leaning on the counter as I contemplated what I was going to do.



“I never should’ve accepted,” I finally said.



“No, actually...I think I’m beginning to agree with Melissa and Sam on this one. If you really
are miserable, maybe this is the best thing that can happen to you...besides, this Harry Potter
bloke must be amazing. To make the great Hermione Granger speechless is a talent I wish I had.”



I snorted, curiously picking up the “survival handbook” and browsing through it.



“How to fend off a pickup artist? How to determine if your date is an axe murderer? How to have
sex in a small place?!”



“All very important things to know,” April said, feigning seriousness. “Oh c’mon Hermione, you
have to admit that it’s just bloody hilarious. Better than ‘Catcher in the Key.’”



“‘Catcher in the Rye,’” I corrected, smiling. “Well, thanks April...I’ll be sure to survive my
*dinner meeting* with Harry tonight.”



“Mr. Potter, you mean?” April teased, a glint in her dark eyes. “Don’t be too informal,
Hermione, otherwise he might think that he’ll be doing more than a little eating.”



I gave her a raised eyebrow before I turned around, the book in my hand, headed for my
bedroom.



It was time to get ready for my date with Harry.



Er...my *dinner meeting* with Harry.



~-~-~-~-~-~



reviewing’s good for the soul...



A/N: I know that might be a little shorter than usual, but I was in a desperate hurry to get
this out today.



The book April gave Hermione is indeed a volume in the famous “the worst-case scenario survival
handbook” series; I bought it while shopping with a friend. Obviously I don’t take it seriously,
but it was a nice, hilarious read. The great thing about those books is that the authors write it
with as much seriousness as they possibly can! Did you know that having sex in an airplane bathroom
is illegal? Never knew...



The pigs: Lee, Harvey, and other unnamed speakers, are inspired by boys that go to my school
(they just prove that boys are slime. Well, most of them, anyway.). I’m sure that professional
business men are nothing of the sort, but I can always imagine Hermione having the same fire she
has for S.P.E.W. saved for feminism in the muggle world, and I just thought it was a perfect way to
show that. Also, another side note: that scene was meant to be slightly humourous, not at all
serious. I mean really, would I willingly insult my own race? Er, gender...lol. J/k j/k.



Also, don’t hate Dean! I’ve always thought that Dean was a rather awesome character, and
although I’m a hardcore H/Hr, Hermione DOES deserve a guy LIKE Dean...don’t worry, though, we all
know who she’s PERFECT for *wink*



6. Realization
--------------

A/N: Thanks to alli1489, ears91, lily love, XxBandGeekxX, hpdancer92, Izabel, harrynmione,
Hermione Granger Potter, hrhermione, davaca, Eternal Magi, Hikaru, Duckies, green eyes, Sherm,
Naveah, Jenna Kathleen, watchoutforme, Accio Pumpkins!, bamaslamma29, Reddy, Forever Yours (thanks
for that long review! Bloody amazing!), Tay, Eschiva, Creepy Susie, LilLamb, Austenlover, Angie,
akjennymay9,



TheGreenFairy, as to why it’s entitled Girl Boy...I dunno. Lol. I know normally authors have the
titled all planned out and meaning some sort of universal mind boggling thing, but actually, that
title was a rather whimsical idea of mine...now that I’ve thought of the ending, though, it fits in
quite nicely, so I’d LIKE to think that it was my mind being brilliant without me knowing, lol. As
to when Hermione will know that Harry’s a wizard...all in good time. Patience’s a virtue, didn’t
you know? (I know I don’t.)



Josherz18, I feel bad for Justin too!



Rachel A. Prongs, damn yes! But you know Hermione, she’s just nice...*sigh* I should really stop
that, shouldn’t I? Hehe.



rainbow star, yup, that was an implied joke! After last year and all of the tests I had about
Homer’s the Iliad...*sigh* I would have to strike a javelin through my leg if I couldn’t remember
that!



Plum Blossoms, I know! Draco as an angsty poet was just PERFECT, wasn’t it? Ah...although, to be
honest, I see him as a hard punk rocker. That’s just my opinion, but that just wouldn’t fit in my
story this time...I’ll have to work that into a later fic, now, won’t I? Hehe.



Jaffa, thanks! I love how this story’s developed nicely...I hope it just keeps continuing. I
actually have no idea where the story goes...normally I have everything planned out and everything,
but with this one, since it was rather just a spark of whim...I have the end all ready, but I have
no idea how tog et there! Let’s just hope I figure out somehow...



Anasazi, same here! I remember one time when my sister told me that she stole my catcher in the
rye and it accidently fell into the toilet...after she used it...my gosh, I think I must’ve
suffered a massive heart attack. Btw, I’ve reviewed for your story and it’s also on my favorite’s
list...lol, rather irrelevant, just wanted to say that I love your story!



Muse, it usually is the other way around, isn’t it? I rather love a self assured man...I wish I
had one in my life *sigh*. I think that’s where everything comes from, how I wish my life could be
like...



Wow, that was a rather long list of review dedicates...that’s so awesome! I love replying to
reviews, but I can’t seem to get used to emailing u guys or doing that weird reply on the review
page thingy...this is just so much easier for me, I hope you guys don’t mind.



~-~-~-~-~-~



Girl Boy



Chapter Six: Realization



~-~-~-~-~-~



(Harry)



I am a bloody bastard.



There. I said it.



I am a bloody *bastard.*



You know, I don’t think it’s quite healthy to call oneself a bastard. I mean, my parents were
married when they had me...



But here I am. A bloody bastard.



I’m *with* someone, for Merlin’s sake. I’m with *Ginny*.



And yet I’ve been thinking rather, erm, unpleasant thoughts about someone else.



Well, they’re not really that unpleasant.



Quite pleasant, actually.



But that’s the point. I’m thinking *pleasant* thoughts about someone else...when I’m
*with* *Ginny*.



But there was Hermione.



But Ginny...



But Hermione!



Yes, I liked Ginny. No, I wasn’t in love with her...but I was still *with* her. I wasn’t
going to break up with her while she was in France. And I trusted her beyond anyone else...she was
probably my best friend now, with Ron gone...



But it was true. I wasn’t in love with her.



I think I’m in love with Hermione Granger.



Not that I’d know, exactly...We haven’t exactly *talked* yet. It could be lust. But
whenever I see her...oh, I just can’t explain to you. It’s like...like everything’s perfect. When
she’s around, nothing seems to go wrong. And she’s just so damn perfect...different than Ginny.
Ginny’s sexy, beautiful, sultry...Hermione was all of those things, but just differently. I’m
making no sense, I know, but it was the things Hermione *did*...



Not that I watch her or anything.



Yet, still, I was going on a *date* with Hermione Granger.



Yeah, yeah, yeah...dinner meeting. Whatever.



There was yet another problem though.



Hermione’s *with* someone too.



Justin.



I’d know. The moment I figured out who this Justin fellow was, I made sure I kept him on close
watch...I wanted to know what he was like, what type of guys that Hermione liked.



Either she has really bad taste or this was just a bad pick...maybe a blind date gone horribly
wrong? I’ve no idea. But I hoped it the latter...because if she chose to date me later, what would
*that* say?



I don’t want her to cheat on her boyfriend because of me.



But then again, Hermione doesn’t seem to be the cheating type.



So maybe she does think of this as an accidental dinner meeting. A professional one.



Must remind myself to thank Justin with inadvertently setting us up together.



Maybe a pay raise?



No, no...didn’t like him that much.



But this guilt was gnawing away at me. Maybe if I was going out with someone else, it wouldn’t
be so bad...I just might have had a chance convincing myself that I was just getting to know
someone else, not setting myself up for another prospect mate. But this was Ginny. She’s the little
girl I saved in second year, the girl who convinced me that I was Harry Potter, not the
boy-who-lived, the *person* who I trusted beyond all reason. She was one of my best
friends...and I couldn’t do that to her.



Yet I still did.



So now, you can see my dilemma.



But I can’t seem to tear myself away from Hermione Granger. There’s just something about her...a
comfortable familiarity, almost. It feels as if I’ve known her for ages longer than when we met on
that plane...



So yes. This was just a friendly excursion where I got to know one of my co-workers.



Friendly excursion.



Yes.



Not a date.



*Friendly* excursion.



Only problem was, I wanted to get *very friendly* with her.



Not good.



~-~-~-~-~-~



(Ginny)



“Why are you such a bloody prat?” I nearly screamed, blinking away tears. “How could you do
this?! Why the fuck are you such a bloody bastard?!” I kneeled down next to the apron Malfoy had
used as a rag, its once comfortably soft texture stained with grease and oil and dust and covered
with tears.



“It’s just a rag,” he drawled, raising one eyebrow. “I mean, unless it’s the best you can
afford–”



“It’s not a *rag*,” I spat out, tears rolling down my cheeks. “It’s not a rag,” I
whispered, holding the ruined apron in my hands tenderly.



“Then what is it?” he asked a moment later, taking a step closer to me.



“Nothing,” I said, standing up and wiping my tears away angrily.



“No, it has to be something if you’re going to get all bitchy on me...then again, you’re always
this way, so I could just be reading very far into it...”



“It’s my mother’s apron, all right?” I turned away from him, holding the impossibly-ruined apron
to my chest.



“So? It’s just an apron. What’re you–”



“You’re right,” I declared, turning around to glare at him. “It’s just an apron. Now, excuse me,
I have to try and fix it.” I was about to turn around and walk away when Malfoy grabbed my elbow,
his cold fingers making me shiver momentarily.



“What is it,” he murmured, his eyes full of concern. I don’t know what made this sudden change
in him. I know I should’ve been suspicious...but I wasn’t. I looked up into his eyes, looking for
mockery, but all I saw were concern...



It unnerved me.



“My mother’s apron,” I replied, raising my chin defiantly.



“Did it mean anything?” he asked, his eyes resting on the apron. I don’t know, but as his eyes
looked at my apron his eyes flashed...not dangerously, but as he turned to look at me again his
eyes seems much less guarded, more vulnerable.



“She gave it to me before she died,” I said evenly, ripping myself away from his grasp.



~-~-~-~-~-~



(Draco)



*She gave it to me before she died*.



I blinked at Weasley, processing my thoughts.



Her words echoed in my head as she stared at me, grasping that bloody apron of hers tighter and
tighter.



It had been a few days since the incident in the café. We ignored each other pleasantly–I
transfigured the couch into a nice bed, and we got through a few days of not biting each other’s
heads off.



That was...until today.



I needed to clean, and I couldn’t find my bloody wand. So instead of looking for it I resorted
to dusting the furniture with a rag...I saw a dirty, smelly old thing peeking out of Weasley’s bag
and assumed that it would be all right to use it.



After all those nights where mother was in danger of being found...we realized, the hard way,
that not using magic for long intervals was a smart idea.



Anyways, I guess I was wrong. About the rag, I mean.



“I’m...sorry.”



“Just shut the fuck up,” she shot back, her red eyes glaring angrily at me from beneath her
bangs. “I don’t want to hear your disgusting voice.”



Surprisingly, that remark didn’t quite get me upset.



Because...I think I actually felt truly...



...sorry...



Instinctively I grabbed the necklace from around my neck. Its gold chain glimmered slightly in
the dim light and I saw Weasley’s attention transfer to it. I fingered the small pendant hanging
from the end, the silver snake blinking its red eyes lazily.



“This was my mother’s,” I said quietly, holding it up for Weasley to see. Smiling slightly, I
added, “She gave it to me before she died.” Weasley’s eyes widened in shock, her eyes transfixed on
the necklace. Suddenly she sighed, wiping her tears and laying the apron tenderly over her bed. “I
am sorry, you know,” I said, walking a little closer. “I didn’t think that it was anything
important...”



“Well it is,” she replied, but it wasn’t the harsh tones she muttered before.



“I know.”



“I’m sorry,” she added a moment later. Noticing the look on my face she said, “You know, for
your Mum.”



“Yeah.” We both averted our eyes and swallowed, allowing the thick buzz of silence to overcome
our moment. For a strange time, it felt as if a truce had come between the two of us...some type of
unspoken understanding. “I’m sorry, too.”



“So am I,” she whispered, her eyes gently tracing the outline of the apron on her bed. From the
way her eyes snapped towards me, the way she bit her lip and the way her eyes fell back again onto
the apron...I knew.



“It was my father, wasn’t it.”



“Wh-what?” she stuttered, her brown eyes growing wide.



“My father. The one that killed your parents.”



“My family,” she said with a sad smile. “The only two people who survived were me and
Ron...”



I nodded, my eyes tracing the intricate outlines on the floor.



“I’m sorry,” I muttered.



“Don’t be,” she replied. I looked up to see her smiling at me amidst her tears. “It wasn’t your
fault.”



And I think that’s when things began to change.



I just still couldn’t believe how bloody sentimental I had become.



But then again...I refused point blank to be a *Malfoy*.



~-~-~-~-~-~



(Hermione)



“Well...how do I look?”



“So nervous about a dinner meeting, are you?”



“Oh shut up and tell me how good I look.”



“Amazing. Wonderful. You should be happy, Hermione, that I’m using *synonyms*. Oooh, my
vocabulary has *enlarged*.”



“If only,” I muttered, grinning at April. She smiled back and returned back to her movie,
“Aladdin.”



“When’s he coming?” April asked, her mouth full of popcorn.



“8:00.”



“That’s in a few minutes, then.”



“Yes...” I smiled at April sigh happily when Aladdin sang to Jasmine on their magic carpet,
flying into the moonlight. “Why are you watching a child’s movie?”



“It’s not a child’s movie!” she yelled indignantly. “This is a classic! Disney oldies are the
best movies in the world. As long as it’s not Cinderella or Snow White...what bloody idiots. It’s a
wonder why little girls look up to them. Please. They don’t have any personalities–the only thing
they’ve got going for them is small feet, a pretty face and no brains. Is that what our future
generations are hoping to be? Hmm?!”



I shook my head happily, laughing at April. It’s best to leave before she actually got started
on her feminist outlooks...she was worse than me, I swear.



Which made me believe that we really were the best of friends.



The door rang and I suddenly found myself nervous, petting my hair instinctively and reaching
down to smooth my skirt. April’s eyes danced happily as she noticed my discomfort, and seeing that
I was making no move towards the door, got up and helped herself to escorting my date inside.



My boss, I mean.



“Hello,” Harry said, glancing around our flat. “You must be...”



“April,” she said, turning around to give me a thumbs up and a wink. “And you must be the Harry
Potter that Hermione is always talking about.” He laughed, nodding his head.



Was that a blush?



“Harry,” I said, stepping up to him. “You’re early...”



“I like to make a habit of being early,” he said, grinning at me. I blushed intensely,
distinctly noticing April’s knowing smirk.



I really despised that smirk...



“Well you love birds better be going,” she said a moment later. Harry coughed, nodding and
holding his hand out.



“Shall we?” he asked charmingly.



In fear of sounding like Samantha...



...he was absolutely beautiful...



...and hot.



Which, I don’t think, is available in my vocabulary...when used like that, I mean.



I really have to find a better influence in my life.



“Yes,” I said breathlessly, putting my hand gently in his. “We shall.”



~-~-~-~-~-~



“So then–then we decided, we decided that you know, it could be a good idea! So Ron and I, we
ended up convincing the house el–our friend, Dobby, to give Snape this card on Valentine’s Day, and
we had it so that it arrived during class and the moment Snape got his hands on it, it would
sing...the look on his face when the card was telling him why he was beautiful was hilarious!”



“I can’t believe it!” Harry and I were laughing intensely, our stomachs doubling over as Harry
recalled to me the best moments of his times at Hogwarts.



“I can’t either!” He replied, grinning at me as he wiped his eyes of happy tears. “But Snape, oh
Merlin, if you ever met him you’d know exactly why we’d want to do this to him...”



“He sounds absolutely evil,” I said, smiling.



“He was,” Harry replied, grinning at me. “Well, usually.”



Somehow the way Harry’s eyes looked stopped my laughter. Although his face continued to smile,
his cheeks still rosy, there was a depth to the sadness in his glance that made me think that this
Snape character, ultimately, was secured in a special place in Harry’s heart...



I do believe I’ve read too many Nicholas Sparks’ books.



April’s absolutely addicted to them.



So when I’m in the bathroom, and I need to get my mind off of–



“Hermione?”



“Yes?” I replied, breaking out of my thoughts and blushing at him. “What? I’m sorry, I
just–”



“Yeah,” Harry whispered, his eyes sparkling mischievously at me. “You just.”



“Well, unfortunately, I don’t have any great stories from school to tell you...I went to a
rather boring boarding school in London...”



“Oh I’m sure there’s something,” Harry said inbetween mouthfuls of lasagna. “Even if there isn’t
fun, that’s the whole point, isn’t it? Making it happen.”



“Sure,” I said, laughing. “I can imagine you as the little prankster...but me, I was really
studious, top of my class, rigid rule follower...”



“Pity,” he said. “Hogwarts would definitely have loosened you up.”



“Yes,” I said rather breathlessly. “I’m sure it would have...”



“I wish,” Harry began, his fork tracing random patterns on his plate, “that you got to meet
Ron.”



“I do too,” I said, blinking. “He sounds like an amazing bloke.”



“He was,” Harry said, but then he immediately sighed.



“What?” I asked, slightly unnerved.



“I just really hate that...you know, referring to him in the past tense. It just...I don’t
know...sorry,” he said, chuckling nervously. “I totally ruined the mood, didn’t I...”



“It’s all right, I know what you mean,” I said soothingly, placing my hand over his. “My aunt
passed away last year, and I was really close to her...I hated that everyone used to say to me ‘she
*was* a great lady’ or ‘she *used* to love this.’ I couldn’t take it.”



Harry remained silent, his green eyes clouded. Reluctantly it seemed, he raised his gaze to meet
mine and I was startled at its intensity. Harry opened his mouth, but then closed it, his brow
furrowing.



“Hermione,” he finally muttered, “there’s something that I have to tell you...”



“O-okay,” I stuttered, swallowing. Oh, dear. “What is it?”



“I...I like you, Hermione, but...”



I think my heart stopped beating.



Oh no.



I knew it.



He’s married.



He has nine concubines.



He’s a priest!



He doesn’t have a penus. Oh, my God...



“Would you like me to refill your glasses?”



“Y-yes, please,” I stuttered, trying to smile at our waiter. He quickly refilled both our water
glasses and bowed, walking away casually. My attention turned back to Harry, who seemed to be
blinking himself out of his reverie.



“What were you saying, Harry?” I asked cautiously. I braced myself for what Harry was going to
say, for however he was going to put me down...I just knew it, I knew it, I could never get myself
a Harry Potter...



“Nothing...I just...” He continued to look at me, and I could see himself calculating his answer
from behind his lenses. Finally he opened his mouth and said the words I knew would make me feel
eleven years old again, crying in a bathroom when nobody wanted to come to my birthday party. “I
just don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret while you’re still with Justin.”



Wait, what?



I laughed from the sheer relief I felt. I think Harry was amazed at my reaction and began
laughing as well, a smile blooming on his face.



“Oh, Harry...” I said, smiling.



~-~-~-~-~-~



(Harry)



I couldn’t do it.



I was such a bloody coward...I knew what she’d do when I told her I was going out with Ginny
Weasley, that I was a cheating, lying bastard. She’d walk out of my life forever, probably go marry
Justin and move to Switzerland. I didn’t want that. The sheer knowledge that Hermione Granger might
leave me if I told her the truth stopped me from saying it at all...



I knew the truth would come out, sooner or later. And I knew it wouldn’t work out very well. But
as long as it was okay now, as long as Hermione was with me now...that’s all that mattered to
me.



We finished dinner and at Hermione’s request we drove back to her flat, laughing all the while.
I can honestly say I never enjoyed another’s presence so thoroughly...it was a comforting relief to
have her hand on mine, her thumb tracing lazy fingers on my skin...whenever I threw a grin her way
she’d blush that adorable blush, her lips raising ever so slightly...



The night wasn’t a complete disaster, after all. I confessed my feelings, anyway...and I think
she was pleased to hear me say it. She was holding my hand, wasn’t she?



“Thank you, Harry,” Hermione whispered as we stood on her foyer, her hand still holding mine
gently. I smiled, leaning in slowly...Hermione closed her beautiful eyes in anticipation...oh how I
wanted to kiss those lips of hers...



I leaned in and kissed her cheek, leaning back as I tugged on a curly strand of hair that had
come loose.



“I’ll see you at work on Monday,” I said.



“But there’s a meeting tom–”



“Nope,” I said, grinning slowly. “That’s cancelled. I actually have some preparing to
do...there’s somewhere I have to go on Sunday, so I have to switch all the meetings I had on Sunday
to tomorrow and it’s all too complicated...”



“Well all right,” she said, smiling up at me. “I’ll see you Monday.”



“I’ll be looking forward to it,” I said, touching her nose before turning around and walking
away.



I was falling hard for Hermione Granger.



And I had to talk to Ginny.



~-~-~-~-~-~



Reviewing’s good for the soul...



A/N: Sorry that there wasn’t much action in the dinner meeting! I just love the idea of little
Harry being a wonderful gentleman, though. Don’t worry, action’s gonna come later...heated kisses!
Yay! And plus, the next chapter will be major development of Ginny’s and Draco’s relationship...the
truth about Harry and Ginny should come soon for Hermione, so be prepared in the next two or three
chapters for her to find out. I think that after that, there should only be a few more
chapters...I’m not that sure about how much longer this fic is gonna breathe. I’m predicting maybe
5 or 6 in total, but I can’t be sure...fics, for me, tend to start getting much longer than I plan
them to be. But once this is finished, I got yet ANOTHER AU fic planned. What’s with me and AU’s?!
I dunno.



Sorry there wasn’t much humor in this one...



7. Unveiled
-----------

A/N: Wow, it’s been a long time. I just kept putting this thing off and off and writing a few
lines here and there and before I know it I’m done, but with how many months? Wow. All I can do is
apologize and hope that this chapter makes up for it, which I can’t guarantee. Y’all will just have
to leave reviews nipping at my ass or praising it, but please, give me some feedback. I think I’ve
gone rusty on my writing already. I will acknowledge the reviewers for the past chapter in the next
one, which won’t take as long, I promise!



~-~-~-~-~-~



Girl Boy



Chapter Seven: Unveiled



~-~-~-~-~-~



(Ginny)



“So what, you’re saying that roses are overrated?”



“They’re pretty, sure, but they’ve been so overused that it’s just not the same.”



“What matters if they’re overused? The language of flowers is universal, Weasley. It’s all in
how the guy presents the rose.”



“Or how the girl presents it.”



“Please. I doubt a girl ever bought a flower, a rose no less, for her man.”



“You’d be surprised, Malfoy. A girl can do wonders of things, even buy roses.”



“Have you ever bought a rose for a man?”



“That’s...”



“So you haven’t!”



“That’s not what I said.”



“It’s what you meant.”



“Just because I haven’t doesn’t mean I wouldn’t.”



Malfoy laughed, a chuckle that brought a smile to my face.



“You’re the strangest person I have ever met.”



“Thank you.”



It was 3 a.m. in the morning and we were laying on the hammock on our balcony, the moonlight
illuminating our skin. We were both wide awake, not bearing the idea of sleep and both inevitably
exhausted from the field trip to Paris we went on earlier that day.



“I think love is overrated,” Malfoy said, frowning at the sky. “People make it out to be
some...some thing, a type of...of...magic. Like it’s really magic.”



“I think that when you fall in love, you’ll think differently.” He looked over and smiled,
making him look beautiful bathed in the moonlight.



After the episode about my mother’s apron, we became friends. He was still an arrogant bastard
and I was still a stubborn ass but in a way, we complimented each other. And besides, no one else
here could understand me. My sorrow. My thirst for...something. A change. Anything at all. It felt
nice, knowing that someone else understood. That was something rare for me to find, and I was smart
enough to know I wouldn’t find it again very easily.



“So you think it exists?” Malfoy asked, his eyes still on mine.



“Why don’t you?”



“Because it’s a waste,” he said, almost bitterly, his eyes now looking at my hair.



“Why is it a waste?”



“It forces you to need someone,” he replied quietly. “It forces you to rely on someone.”



“Is that such a bad thing? To need someone else?”



“It makes you weak,” he breathed, a faraway look in his eyes. “Love just makes you weak.”



“I think it makes you stronger,” I said, smiling slightly. “It’s when you’re alone that you’re
weak.”



Malfoy looked at me, an empty look in his eyes.



“We’re the loneliest people I know,” he said softly before closing his eyes, breathing
deeply.



I shifted slightly, snuggling more into Malfoy’s body warmth as the night’s chill settled onto
my skin. “Accio blanket,” I whispered, watching the quilt from my bed float towards us and lay
itself on our still bodies.



Malfoy’s comment rang in my ears. I wasn’t lonely...I had so many people. I had my friends. I
had Harry.



Harry...



Maybe Malfoy was right. Maybe I was alone. Maybe we both were.



It scared me to see how vulnerable Malfoy really was. His transformations were liquid...one
second he would be pompous and the next, faraway-eyed and soft voiced.



I was falling for him hard.



I really shouldn’t be.



I had Harry.



The next thing I knew I was waking, my eyes blinking against the sun’s light. I found myself too
comfortable to move. Looking around I realized sometime during the night Malfoy’s arms found its
way around my body, my head nestled against the bridge of his neck and his chest, his heartbeat a
soft lullaby.



~-~-~-~-~-~



(Hermione)



“So...what happened?”



“Nothing,” I replied curtly, washing the dishes. “Good morning, April.”



“G’morning,” April yawned as she padded towards us, her hair a wilder mess than mine.
“Food?”



“I saved some pancakes for you.”



“You’re my hero.”



“So what happened!” Samantha exclaimed, her eyes excited. “Sod it, Hermione, you can’t go on a
date with yummy Potter and not tell me!”



“Give up,” April said, mouth full of pancake. “I’ve been trying for two days to get her to tell
me something and I’ve got nothing.”



“But he was yummy, wasn’t he?”



“Gorgeous,” April said, grinning at me over her orange juice. “Absolutely gorgeous.”



“Better in magazines or in the flesh?”



“Most definitely flesh.”



“I don’t see why you’re not telling us, ‘Mione,” Samantha complained, sighing. “I mean, it was
only your first date. I bet all he did was kiss your cheek.”



Damn my blush.



“Oh my God,” April said, her eyes wide. “Is that seriously all that happened?”



“Harry’s a gentleman,” I said, my chin rising defiantly. “He told me he didn’t want to do
anything, not while I was with Justin.”



“That’s nice of him,” April said, nodding in approval. “I like this Potter. You two would have
adorable children.”



“April!” I said, grinning.



“But you know, Herm...you’ve gotta do something about Justin.” I sighed, knowing Samantha was
right. “Honestly, you’ve got to break up with the poor bloke already. More for his sake than yours.
It’s just...pitiful. And Harry’s right, you know. You two can’t really do anything while you’re
still officially taken.”



“I know,” I whispered. “I’m doing it tonight.”



~-~-~-~-~-~



(Draco)



I couldn’t be falling for Weasley.



Honestly. She was a stubborn, bitchy ass who had to have everything her way, was rude, horribly
opinionated and had the emotional control of a tea spoon.



Unfortunately, none of these traits crossed my mind when I woke up with her next to me, a
peaceful expression on her face and her hand latched onto my shirt.



These past few days were...unexplainable. In some way, Weasley and I became...



...well, I wouldn’t call it friends.



Would I?



In any case, we stayed up all night talking.



Talking.



I had never done as much talking with a woman as I had done with Virginia Weasley.



And as much as it pained me...



I partially enjoyed her wit, her sarcasm, that annoying stubborness she had. Our heated debates
brought to my attention her passion, her intellect, and most importantly, her strong will.



As I tried to wriggle away from her, she only tightened her grip and snuggled closer. I
eventually gave up and lay still, watching her face as she slept on, completely oblivious.



It was almost calming, having her next to me. I could feel her heartbeat and it was a strange
comfort.



She looked beautiful. And I wasn’t one to hand out compliments. But in the morning light, she
was absolutely exquisite.



My arm was beginning to lose circulation, so I put it in the one place my blood flow would
return. Around Weasley’s waist.



As my arm settled in, I didn’t particularly dislike it. In fact, I hoped I would never move.



Weasley licked her lips, her eyes slowly sliding open. The moment she saw me, a small smile
adorned her features. I couldn’t help but feel a small sensation building in my chest, a strange
sort of warmth.



“Morning, Malfoy.”



“Weasley, if you could please let go of me, I need to go get a decent amount of sleep before my
seminars restart.”



That’s not true. That was probably the best damn sleep I’ve ever had. Don’t you ever let go of
me.



“I think you were quite comfortable last night,” she said, grinning seductively at me.



Hell yes.



“And besides, your arm is around my waist.” Weasley looked up at me, something unfathomable
swimming in her eyes. “What would you do if I were to decline your request?” She licked her lips
again, her hold on me tightening as she pulled me ever so closer.



Screw defiance. I wanted her to kiss me.



“Malfoy,” she purred, “you’re late to your morning class.”



I checked my watch.



Shit.



~-~-~-~-~-~



(Justin)



I could just feel it.



Hermione was drifting away from me.



Not that I could blame her...I wasn’t exactly the most interesting bloke in town. Not rich or
particularly handsome...I didn’t deserve a Hermione Granger.



But you know, I did love her. I mean, I do love her.



There was just something wrong with it all.



I couldn’t help but feel like I was holding her back somehow, that our time had past and there
wasn’t really anything else to hold onto.



Besides, I could see the way she looked at Harry Potter. She never looked at me like that, not
anymore.



“I wanted to tell you I want to break up.”



Hermione stared at me, her eyes wide as she processed this information.



“You...want to break up?”



“Well...yes...and don’t pretend that you’re sad, I know you want it too.”



“Justin–”



“Don’t ‘Justin’ me.”



Oh, how I was sick of people stepping all over me. For months I tried to salvage what Hermione
and I had...I almost wish that she ended it when the fire burned out for her. Not only was she
wasting her time, but she was wasting my time too. If she had broken up with me back then, then I
could have gotten over her by now. Maybe I wouldn’t love her anymore. I didn’t want to love someone
who didn’t love me back...it wasn’t a nice feeling.



“I–”



“I just hope that we can stay friends,” I said, coughing. “And, um, I just want you to come
clean...I need you to come clean.”



“About what?” She was biting her lip. She was nervous. She was hiding something.



“About us,” I whispered. I shuffled my feet, looking anywhere but directly at her. Finally I
opened my mouth and asked the question I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer to. “When exactly
did we die out?”



Hermione looked so sad that I reconsidered my thoughts. Maybe I was just paranoid. Maybe she
really didn’t want us to break up...maybe–



“When I came home from that business trip.”



Oh.



“I’m sorry Justin, so sorry, I just...I don’t know...there just...”



“Wasn’t enough?” I whispered. Hermione nodded, biting her lip and sniffing slightly.



“I wanted it to be enough,” she told me, looking me in the eye.



“Can’t really control it, can you,” I muttered. She shook her head slowly, her eyes trained on
me.



“No, you can’t.”



~-~-~-~-~-~



(Ginny)



“No way!”



“Yes.”



“You’ve never seen Star Wars?!”



“Why would I?”



“Why?! Because it’s brilliant shit! You’ve restricted yourself to the muggle world and you
haven’t experienced any of its luxuries?”



“Honestly, Weasley, what luxuries could come from muggles?”



Merlin. Malfoy was a wanker.



“Video games! Sitcoms, soda, the wonderful world of action-packed brilliant movies! Cartoons!
Effing Broadway! Les Miserables, Phantom of the Opera, Cats! Bleeding Mary Poppins!”



“You must be out of your mind. Mary Poppins was a witch.”



I ignored his comment. “I swear it. The moment we’re back in England you and I are settling down
and watching Star Wars. You’ll love it, I guarantee.”



“You hold too much faith in this bloody muggle movie.”



“You don’t hold enough faith in my impeccable taste.”



Malfoy grinned at me, looking down and shaking his head.



“You’re bloody insane.”



“I’m Virginia Weasley.”



“So when we go back to England, we’re going to see...Star Wars?”



“Yes. And Mary Poppins, Breakfast at Tiffany’s, Indiana Jones, Back to the Future, oh Merlin
Malfoy, how do you survive!”



“Coffee.”



I laughed, tugging at his tie.



“That’s, of course, assuming you come home with me,” I said, smiling slightly.



“Come home with you?”



Come home with me? Was I being serious?



“Well...”



Damn it all to Hell, did I really want Malfoy in my house? In England? After all this? Without
Harry?



......was that even rhetorical?



“Yes. I think it’s too much to assume that you have a working television.”



Malfoy smirked.



“Home with you it is, then.”



~-~-~-~-~-~



(Harry)



“Sir, would you like me to refill your glass?”



“No, thank you.”



The attendee smiled at me before turning to her left to ask the bloke sitting there if he wanted
some more soda. I sighed, rubbing my temples before my eyes returned back to the window next to
me.



Well, I was headed to France.



I had to. Not like I had any choice. Given that I had to talk to Ginny, and Ginny was in France,
meaning I would have to go to France...



Yes. My logic was undeniable.



But still.



Didn’t want to go to France.



Nervous.



Very nervous.



What the hell was I going to say?



Sorry Gin, but I fell in love with a muggle who happens to work with me while you were away and
we can’t be together anymore?



Hmm...somehow, I don’t think that’ll come off too well.



Ooh, how about this.



Sorry Gin, but after Ron died–



Ooookay, cannot start out that way.



Wow. I’m a bleeding idiot.



Ha, I know.



Sorry Gin, but I don’t love you anymore.



That just might work.



Ginny always hated beating around the bush. Might as well be direct and hope for brownie
points.



She wouldn’t hate me, would she? Merlin, I couldn’t stand having Ginny hate me, having my best
friend, the most important person in my life, hate me.



And to be perfectly honest...



Did I ever love her? In that way?



Arg.



Best not mention that.



Wait.



I fell in love with a muggle...



Did I really think that?



Did I really fall in love?....with a muggle?....



...with Hermione Granger?!



Oh my bleeding Merlin, I was in love with Hermione Granger.



Somehow, this isn’t surprising.



Why isn’t this surprising?!



I never thought I was in love with her...I just...wasn’t in love with Ginny, and she was there,
and my attentions were focused on her and I was maybe *falling* in love, but I wasn’t
already....IN love...



..was I?



Fuck.



~-~-~-~-~-~



(Hermione)



“He broke up with you.”



“Yup.”



“Wait, I’m sorry, I think I just hallucinated. *He* broke up with *you*?”



“Yeah...”



“God, Hermione! *He* broke up with *you*?!”



“How many times must you say this!”



“Well, I’m sure once is enough, but....okay, nevermind, no, it’s not. *He* broke up with
*you*?!”



“April!”



I fell back on our couch, my hand over my eyes as I sighed deeply. This night was not ending
well.



“Hermione..I’m sorry...I must not be very supportive..”



“No,” I replied, thinking it would sound bitter but the word sounded more exhausted to my ears.
“April, I think I’m actually...”



“Well, no one expected you to be jumping up and down and gugging the beer in batches.”



“When do I do that anyway?” I asked, smiling at April from behind my hand.



“Remember graduation, Ms. Valedictorian?”



“Oh, God, don’t remind me!”



“Who knew you could hold your liquor like that...”



“April, you promised never to bring it up!”



“And you promised to never drink again, but you broke that too!”



“Did not! After experiencing a hangover like that who in their right mind would drink
again?”



“Well apparently you...remember the day you couldn’t bear the thought of losing a dare and you
chugged Samantha’s Secret Salute? Or when Bill spiked the punch at Lucy’s wedding and you had a dry
throat? Or–”



“Allright, allright!” I managed to yell out in between wheezes of laughter.



“See, I can be supportive.” After a brief silence, April sat down next to me and took my hand,
taking in a deep breath before saying, “Are you okay, though?”



“Well, yes...but no...I mean, Justin was really important to me, you know...going out with a
bloke for a few years will make him that...and not just as an ex, I mean, he was important to me
even before we went out. Besides Colin, he’s probably the only real friend I have at work...and I
know I’ve hurt him, and it hurts me that I hurt him...you know?”



“Yeah,” April whispered, nodding. “But...do you regret it?”



“No,” I whispered. “And I feel horrible for it.”



“You can’t make everyone happy,” April said, glancing around the living room. “I mean, think of
all the poor rejected blokes in the literature you love that end up allright.”



“Like who?” I asked hopelessly. I felt like such a slag.



“Uum..Paris! In Romeo and Juliet! Oh, wait, he gets stabbed, doesn’t he? Uuuh...Bill Pullman in
Sleepless in Seattle...who wants Meg Ryan, anyway? Or, um...Peter Gallagher in While You Were
Sleeping, but wait, he was a bastard to begin with...uum...”



“April, it’s okay. Really. I’m okay, I just...I think I miss him...”



“Harry?”



“No...Justin...I don’t want him back, but he was just...”



“I know what you mean, Hermione.” April patted my hand and smiled a sad, light touch of angel’s
wings. “Good guys will do that to you.”



~-~-~-~-~-~



(Draco)



“M. Malfoy, M. Draco Malfoy, please come to the front desk. There is a message for you.”



Wonderful.



What would it be. A telegram from my dead mum?



I walked to the hotel’s front lobby, the coins jingling in my pockets and my hands cold against
my sides. There was a line at the front desk, a bleeding line.



“Hey,” someone said, grabbing my arm as I tried to walk past him. I arched an eyebrow, gently
pulling my arm back and running my hands through my hair. Potter.



“What?”



“Look, there’s a line...you can get to the back.” What the hell was fucking Potter doing here?
Surely not to see Ginny...was he?



“Right.” Fucking idiot. They called my name. I turned around only to find that he had grabbed my
elbow once more, a glare in his green eyes.



“I mean it. You can’t just cut in front of everyone.”



I’m not jealous.



“Get your hands off me.”



Will not overreact.



“I will when you get behind everyone else.”



Bleeding Wanker.



~-~-~-~-~-~



(Harry)



Bleeding Wanker. What the hell did he think he was doing? We’ve been waiting for ages and all of
a sudden he strides up and decides his business is more important? Merlin, he reminded me of those
pompous Slytherins back at Hogwarts.



He glared at me, his lips curling into a sneer before he stepped back, holding his hands up in
front of him.



“Whatever, Pothead.”



“What did you call me?” What the fucking hell did he call me? And why did his voice, that sneer,
suddenly make me want to put the crucio on him?



“Oh, sorry. Must censor myself, now that I’m in front of royalty.”



“What?” What the fucking hell? He widened his eyes innocently, with that smirk still attached to
his face. Who the hell was he, anyway?



“What the hell did the Dark Lord do to you, Potter, for you to need me, a mere spy, to have to
remind you of who you are?”



Draco Fucking Malfoy.



“You’re Draco Fucking Malfoy,” I spat. His smirk grew.



“Nice to know you remember me.”



~-~-~-~-~-~



(Ginny)



Oh. My. Fucking. God.



Merlin, help me. Please.



I heard an announcement about Draco needing to go down to the front desk so that’s where I went,
hoping to see him. I was starving, and needed some company. I always hate eating in restaurants
alone, it makes me feel...well, lonely.



But alas. I got down there and I saw Draco’s hair, so I made my way towards him. Only to find
another familiar figure just a few feet from him, the two of them in a conversation.



Harry.



Oh, God, what was I going to do?



Harry was slowly getting red, looking ready to beat Draco to a pulp. And I’m sure Draco could
hold out on his own, but against Harry Potter...?



“Harry!” I yelled, my voice breaking as I swallowed vigorously. He looked around, spotted me and
smiled. Draco narrowed his eyes at me as I approached–I was in Hell.



“Ginny,” Harry breathed and he swept me into a hug the moment I was close enough. The familiar
embrace made me smile and I leaned into his touch, wrapping my arms around his waist and holding
him close.



“Hey,” I whispered. I could see Draco in the corner of my eye glaring at the back of Harry’s
head. Then, noticing my glance, he sent me a look too. I suppose he tried to send me some cold fury
but what I got instead was curiosity...and some desperation.



Damnit. I was really hoping this wouldn’t turn out this way.



A few days ago I told Draco that Harry and I broke up...but that we hadn’t made it public yet,
scared of the publicity. He ate it up. And I was telling the truth, really...I didn’t flat out say
we broke up. I just said it died out, and that there wasn’t anything there anymore...which there
isn’t, but...I suppose Harry never got that message. And I don’t know...Draco was such an annoying
prick with an ego the size of his supposed penis, but...there was something about him that made me
want to lie about Harry. That made me want to bring him home after all this was over. That made me
think maybe this trip was doing me some good...and it made me curious.



“I missed you,” he whispered.



Not that I was falling for him, or anything. Actually, I was. But I couldn’t admit that to
myself. To him, to Harry. It was the biting sarcastic remarks that drew me in and it was his
heartbeat, his eyes, and his whispers that kept me there.



“I missed you too,” I said back, which was truthful. I did miss him. His laugh, his eyes, his
comfort...but not his touch, his kisses... “Harry, look, we need to talk...”



“I know, I know. I need to talk to you, too. But...the only reason I got to come and see you was
because I had a meeting here too, you know how busy it is now, with...well, Ron gone, and...could
we eat dinner? In two hours? I just have to stop by my hotel room and call a few people and do a
few things but...could we? Would that be okay?”



How could I say no?



“Of course it would,” I said, smiling at him.



“I’ll pick you up in two hours? Here?”



“Sure. Should I dress up?”



“Gin, your sexy in anything.” With that Harry smiled at me, leaned over and gave me a quick kiss
on the cheek before he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “I’ll see you in two hours.”



Harry walked away briskly, off to do some business, I’m sure. It took a few deep breaths and a
clenching of my fists for me to look over at Draco, who was giving me a look that made me feel as
if I had done some mortal sin, stabbed him in the heart with a stake and then left him for
dead.



And maybe I had.



~-~-~-~-~-~



reviewing’s good for the soul...



A/N: I will try to get the next chapter up sooner than I got this one up. Less than a few
months, I can promise you this time. Spring Break’s just around the corner!



8. Good Times Gonna Come
------------------------

A/N: I’m really sorry about the months it’s been since I last updated. I’ve basically stalled
updating and I hope to make a permanent end to that. It’s my obligation as a writer to do so and
I’ve neglected my responsibility. Thanks to everyone who reviewed; I want everyone to know that
although I haven’t responded to them personally recently, I do go through and read each and every
one of them. I take all your comments to heart, and it’s really the only reason why I continue
writing this stuff. I hope you like this chapter.



As a side note, I’ve been enamored of one word chapter titles for some reason...a phase I’m
over. My new smiling point as come in song titles, widely overused but oh well, they fit well.
Sometimes a word just doesn’t cover it...sometimes it’s too much.



~-~-~-~-~-~



Girl Boy



Chapter Eight: Good Times Gonna Come



~-~-~-~-~-~



(Draco)



I should have known.



Merlin, I should have fucking known!



I knew she was Potter’s girl, knew she was effing Virginia Weasley. I mean fuck it, I should
have fucking known.



And you know what fucks me off the most?



It isn’t the fact that she lied to me. Or the fact that she’s still with Potter. Although, don’t
get me wrong, those piss me off enough.



It’s the fact that she’s standing there, looking at me with that look. I fucking hate her, hate
what she’s done to me. But she’s standing there and even though I fucking hate her, I
still...damnit.



I still want her. Still want to know if the skin on her neck is as luscious as I think it is, if
the creamy skin on her hip is as soft to the touch as I’ve fantasized.



And worst of all, I still want to wake up to her fucking smile every fucking morning.



“Draco,” I hear her plead. “Draco, I...”



But I’ve had enough.



I ate the bullshit. I actually fucking ate it up, like a deprived child and a chocolate frog.
Love. I knew it was worthless shit, but her smile and her eyes and the way she said my name made me
think maybe my mum was right, maybe love wasn’t the wasteless bullshit I thought it was.



But I was right from the beginning.



My mum had loved my father, and look where that got her. Running for her life to France, in
hiding every day with fear.



Severus Snape had loved my mother, and now he’s dead, rotting in an unknown cell somewhere in
the depths of Romania when he tried to track down my father.



And I was falling in love with Virginia Weasley, but look where I am now.



Alone, just as alone as I had been before. Humiliated. And worst of all, I felt like crying,
like tearing everything I knew to pieces, like giving anything up for another chance at feeling
like *that* again.



Like begging. Begging for her back.



But I would never beg, never resort to it again. My mother begged my father to spare her, to
think of their love, their marriage, their child. I begged my mother not to leave me, not to go to
him, not to trust him again after all that he had done. Severus Snape begged her to forget my
father, to think of them, to think of what could be. And I had finally begged my father not to kill
my mother, not to torture her, to kill me instead.



I gave Virginia Weasley one more look before I turned around and left through the same doors
Potter had walked through. I could still see her reflection in the revolving doors, her eyes on
me.



A part of me died to see that she wasn’t crying, that she didn’t look at all miserable at the
idea that I, Draco Malfoy, was walking away from her forever.



~-~-~-~-~-~



(Ginny)



Shit.



I think I just ruined the one good thing that life gave me on a golden platter.



I should have told him the truth. I should have told him that I was too scared to break it off
with Harry, but that I didn’t love him...that I wanted to see where we would go, was curious to see
how we would end up. Wanted us to end up.



It was my fault, yeah.



“Draco,” I muttered, my mouth suddenly dry. “Draco, I...”



But Draco was acting like I had betrayed him, like he had seen me fucking Harry in his bed. I
never told him I loved him. I never gave him the idea. I told him I wanted him to come home with
me, yes, but not to have sex or to start our new life together.



And he was acting like I had just ripped his heart out.



And to be honest...if I had to choose between Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter, I would choose
Harry without a moment’s hesitation. Draco Malfoy might make my heart race and my palms sweat, but
he could never replace Harry in my life. Not Harry, the boyfriend, the fiancé. Harry the best
friend, the brother, the only family I had left.



But that didn’t mean I had to choose, did it? I could have both...Harry, the best friend. Draco,
the...well, I didn’t know what we could evolve into. But that’s just it–I wanted to know.



He gave me one look, one of fury and bitter resentment, before he turned around and walked away.
I could hear his footsteps amidst the chattering and the ringing telephones.



Was I going to chase after Draco Malfoy?



Hell yes. I wasn’t stupid.



But I promised Harry to meet him for dinner, and I owed him that much.



I’m going to break up with him tonight. I’m going to find Draco Malfoy and make him fucking see
that I’m sorry and that I won’t let him walk out of my life.



That was my thought as he walked through those revolving doors. I wouldn’t cry, I wouldn’t be
miserable.



Why?



Because this wasn’t over yet.



~-~-~-~-~-~



(Harry)



“I want to break up.”



I blinked, the napkin on my lap falling to the floor.



“What?”



“I...I want to break up.” Ginny was looking straight at me, her face set in grim
concentration.



“Really?” She blinked.



“You’re...you’re not upset?”



“Well, actually, I came tonight to break up with you...” Ginny broke out in a smile and I
followed suit, the tension in the air immediately sizzling away to comfortable familiarity.



“Harry,” she said, sighing as she reached across the table to take ahold of my hand. “I still
love you, you know.”



“And I still love you,” I said, smiling at her. “That’ll never change.”



“Damn straight,” she nodded. Her gaze fell to our hands holding each other and a sad smile broke
out on her face, a determined gaze in her eyes.



“Who is it?” I murmured.



“Who’s who?”



“The guy.”



“Oh, Harry...”



“Honestly, I’m not jealous. I just want to know...”



“Who’s the girl?”



“The what?”



“Honestly, I’m not jealous.”



We grinned at each other, and I felt stupid.



Why the hell had I worried so much?



This was Ginny. My Ginny.



“Hermione Granger,” I said, blushing. “I met her on the plane to England and...I dunno...”



“Draco Malfoy,” she muttered, shaking her head. “How the hell that happened...”



“Draco Malfoy?”



Damnit, she was dropping me for Draco fucking Malfoy?



“I know, I know, he’s an ass and the list of things wrong with him would surpass Dumbledore’s
beard, but...I don’t know...” Ginny sighed, twirling her straw in her drink. “It’s just something
about him.”



Draco Malfoy?



She gave me a wary glance.



“I know you don’t approve, but–”



“Hell yes I don’t approve! What could you be thinking, Draco fucking Malfoy–”



“Harry, please...”



“I just don’t see how a smart girl like you would fall for a prat like Malfoy.”



“How...how do you two know each other, anyway?”



Crap.



“It’s...it’s a long story.”



“I’ve got time.”



“Well, I...damn, how do I begin...he was originally a Deatheater, but then he supposedly was
never one. He was a double agent, a spy for our side. I never really understood why, but...well, I
guess I did. His father, who was a deatheater, murdered his mother and told Malfoy he’d kill him
too, unless he joined their side. Either he was already plotting his revenge or just out to save
his own neck. I don’t know. But Dumbledore assigned him to my camp, and Malfoy was to report all
his findings to me...but...we never really got along.”



“That much is obvious.”



“That’s one right bastard. Huge ego. Cocky attitude. He was...he was even worse than Ron in that
department.” Damnit, Ron... “They hated each other. Rubbed off the wrong way, I suppose, how alike
they seemed to be in some aspects. Both headstrong, short tempers...lady’s men...”



I took a sip of my champagne, frowning as I looked at Ginny.



“I just don’t think it’s a good idea, you and him.”



“I can hold out on my own, Harry, you don’t have to worry about that.”



“It’s not about you, Gin, it’s about him!”



“It’s about me being with him, and you have to trust me when I am.”



“I just don’t trust him while he’s with you.”



“Always the big brother,” she whispered, her thumb rubbing against the skin between my own and
my index finger. “Don’t worry about it, Harry. I have six already, you don’t have to fill any
voids.”



“I’m the only family you have left,” I whispered, my chest suddenly tight. “And you’re the only
family *I* have left...I just don’t want you getting hurt...”



“And I can’t promise I won’t,” she replied quickly, her eyes bright. “But I can promise you I’ll
take care of myself...no risk, no gain.”



“No pain, no gain.”



“That’s right, Mr. Potter.”



“Just...be careful.”



“I will.”



“I don’t like this at all.”



“You already mentioned that.”



“But you ignored it the first time.”



“I’ll ignore it every time.”



“Arrogant bint.”



“Overprotective arsehole.”



“I love you, Gin.”



“Love you too, Potter.”



“Let’s go, huh? You probably want to catch up with Malfoy...he looked like hell when I came
around. Must be one pissed off ferret.”



“Yeah...guess so. A ride and some good luck, Potter.”



“After you, Weasley.”



~-~-~-~-~-~



(April)



“Justin?” I asked, opening the door to find him standing in front of me bashfully.



“Hey, April...I, uh...well...I was wondering, um, is Hermione here?”



“No, she’s getting some groceries...you could wait around here for a while until she–”



“It’s okay, I was just dropping something off for her...”



Justin handed me Hermione’s classical CD collection, wrapped in a silky, blue tie.



“She let me borrow her CDs a while ago, and I just finished burning them all...and I was going
to give her the tie for our next anniversary...”



“A silky blue tie?”



“Yeah...” Justin grinned at me, rubbing the back of his neck. “It was how we met...we were
trying to buy the same tie. It’s that one...I had to back order it, but I really don’t have a use
for it...Hermione likes ties, I thought maybe she should just keep it, something to remember us by,
it’s for her anyway...”



Noticing my look he quickly stuttered, “It’s not like I’m trying to buy my way back, or
anything, I’m not that desperate, I just–”



“No, I know, Justin.” I gave him a small smile and patted his shoulder. “You’re a good guy.”



“Thanks,” he whispered, matching my smile before turning around and walking back towards the
flat.



I liked the idea of Hermione and Justin...he’s just such a good guy. And she deserved a good
guy. The blokes that Samantha and Melissa brought around were hot, sure...drool-worthy, of
course...but good guys? Never.



Good guys are a hard catch...I’d know.



And like I said, Hermione deserved a good guy.



I laid the package on the counter, running my fingers on the tie.



It’s not anyone’s fault that it didn’t work. I was holding out for the success of the
relationship, but...but there really wasn’t any chemistry worth talking about. There was in the
beginning...but not now. And I’m glad she broke it off, I really am. But...I’m wary about this
Potter.



Don’t get me wrong, he was amazingly hot. And he seemed like a gentleman...and all in all, I
liked him. According to my first impression, he’s a good guy.



But I couldn’t be sure.



There was just something about him that caught me off guard...it’s like he’s got secrets. I
don’t know...there was just something, you know?



It’s a woman’s intuition. And better yet, a best friend’s psychic abilities to judge a man.



And there was something off about Potter.



But I couldn’t say anything. This was the first time in a long, long while I’d seen Hermione
this happy. This carefree. Just the other day she asked me if I wanted to go get some ice cream
with her.



On a Tuesday.



Tuesdays have been sanctioned as Hermione’s I’m-working-don’t-fucking-bother-me days...well, I
guess it was more of her I’m-working-please-don’t-bother-me days. She wasn’t one to use such
vulgarity. Even though I was okay with it. To be perfectly honest, Tuesdays were her
I’m-working-if-you-fucking-bother-me-I-will-rip-out-your-fucking-brains-out-of-your-nose-and-then-bleeding-shove-it-up-your-uneducated-and-worthless-ass



But anyway, at appx 8:00 the crime occurred.



I was in the kitchen, humming along to “A Whole New World” (I was listening to my Disney
princesses CD) when she comes waltzing in, singing.



Hermione Granger, singing.



She didn’t even sing in the shower.



The one other time she sang she was drunk and dancing next to the wedding cake while singing
along to Aretha Franklin’s “RESPECT.”



Highly entertaining, I’ll tell you.



My mouth opened and the carrots I had just consumed were available for the entire world to
see.



Worst of all, Hermione.



However she, upon seeing my open mouth and disgusting partially-eaten food, giggled.



She giggled.



She did not frown and point her finger at me and begin another lecture on the manners of eating.
Nor did she sniff, throw her bushy hair around her shoulder and glare at me while carefully eating
her own food.



She giggled.



And then sang more to the song while dancing to the fridge.



She sang and danced.



Are you beginning to understand the severity of the situation?!



“Hermione, what are you doing?!” I asked, quickly closing my mouth and swallowing the carrots.
“It’s...it’s Tuesday!”



“Tuesday it is!”



“But it’s...I don’t think you understand. It’s Tuesday. Your don’t-bother-me day? Your
I’m-working day?”



“Oh...come now, Pri, Tuesdays were never like that.”



“Uh...yeah, they were! One time, I knocked on your study to ask if you wanted to go out for ice
cream and you chucked your dictionary at my head. Your five hundred pound leather bound
know-it-all’s dictionary! I had a bruise for five weeks! And a concussion!”



“No, it was only there for three...but that’s a good idea, isn’t it? Why don’t we go out for ice
cream?”



I nearly choked.



“You want to go out for ice cream on a Tuesday night?”



Oh, dear, Lord. This couldn’t be Hermione. We must be in some alternate dimension, where Brad
Pitt was ugly and Jennifer Aniston wanted babies!



“Ice cream does sound delightful. After all, Thornton Wilder once said, ‘My advice to you is not
to inquire why or whither, but just enjoy your ice cream while it’s on your plate.’”



Ah. So it was still Hermione.



That was yesterday.



Hermione seemed so happy...as befuddled and completely shell-shocked I was, I was still
incredibly happy for her.



But if I was right...if Potter really isn’t a good guy like everyone assumes...if he hurts
her...



I’ll fucking pull his brains out of his nose and shove it up his bastardly ass, that’s what I’ll
do.



~-~-~-~-~-~



(Ginny)



“Draco, open up.”



“Get the fuck away from me, you fucking bitch!”



He’s drunk.



I knew it.



“Draco, this is my room too.”



“Then open it up yourself!”



I sighed, gently laying my head on the cool wood as I contemplated what I was going to do. A
drunk Draco was surely not easy to deal with.



And he was a wizard. Even worse...I was good, but I was surely no match for a drunk Draco with a
wand.



“I’m coming in,” I shouted before whispering, “Alohamora” and walking towards him.



“What the hell are you doing here,” he slurred, trying to focus his eyes.



Is it weird I still found him incredibly sexy?



“I needed to talk to you, Draco.”



“You come crawling back, Weaslette? Come begging for me? Potter not enough to quench your
thirst?”



“He’s not a soda, Draco.”



“News to me that he’s not carbonated gas.”



He was sarcastic even while he was drunk.



Merlin.



“Just shut up, okay? We need to talk.”



“About what? What could we possibly about to talk have, Weasley?”



He twirled around and glared at me, his hair unkempt and his eyes glazing over and that arrogant
smirk back on his face.



He hadn’t given me that look for a long time...and just seeing it directed at me made me sad,
for some reason. Like I’d just lost something...like it had been ripped from my hands and then
thrown back, crushing my chest.



“About us.”



“Us?!” he scoffed, throwing his head back and laughing. “There’s isn’t anything to worry about,
Weasley, I’m not heartbroken. You don’t have to tend to little ol’ Malfoy. I just hope you’re happy
with Pothead, who’ll drag you around like the trophy wife you are.”



“And what’s that supposed to mean!”



“Exactly what I said. I shouldn’t have to repeat myself for *you*.”



This wasn’t working.



“Look, don’t be an asshole about this. It’s not like I told you–”



“That’s just it, Weasley. You didn’t tell me about you and Potter, and you know what, it’s my
fault. I should’ve known that you were lying just to get a roll in bed while you were away from
Potter. It’s my mistake.”



“How dare you,” I growled, marching up to him. “How fucking dare you?!”



“I’ll do what I want,” he muttered back, his eyes dancing with fury.



“You...*you bastard*...”



“Aw, you wound me...”



That was it.



I pulled my arm back and punched him in the jaw.



Fuck, did that hurt.



He clapped his hand over his jaw and glared at me, spitting out the word “bitch” before grabbing
me and pushing me against the wall. His hands pulled my wrists above my head and he pushed his hips
towards mine, pining me completely and disabling my legs from inflicting any pain on him.



“How fucking dare you do that!” he growled into my ear as I struggled against him. “You ripped
my heart out and then you have the fucking nerve to punch me?”



“R-ripped your heart out?” I stuttered.



“...Fuck,” he muttered, his head dipping down as he rested it against the wall next to my neck.
I could feel his labored breaths on my shoulder and he seemed to fall against me, anchoring his
body against mine.



“D-Draco?”



“Shut up,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “Just shut up....please...”



And suddenly I was holding him, my arms winding their way around his body as he rested his head
on my shoulder, his hands clutching my waist and back, finding purchase on my coat.



“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “So, so sorry...”



“You should be,” he replied, his voice now muffled.



“I am...”



“I hate you.”



“You’re drunk.”



“You make me sober.”



“I don’t hate you...”



“Well I hate you,” he spat, “I fucking hate you.”



I was shocked. I finally got my head back on straight and glared at him, opening my mouth.



“That’s a pity!” I screamed, lunging my body at him. He was caught off balance and we both
tumbled to the floor, where my hands escaped his grasp and I began to hit him. Anywhere,
everywhere, I smacked and punched anything I could get my hands on. “That’s a sure, fucking
pity!”



“Why’s it a pity?!” he roared, latching his legs on either side of me and rolling me around so
my back was now on the floor, his hands grabbing my hands in front of me as he sat on my legs.
“Why’s it a pity, Weasley? Because you couldn’t finish the deal with me? Because I found out?!
Because you feel guilty?!”



“Shut up!”



“Never,” he muttered, sticking his face directly in front of mine as I struggled underneath him.
“Why is it a pity? Because you love me? That’s it, isn’t it Weasley?”



“I could never love you,” I spat, glaring at him.



“Admit it!” he screamed at me, “Fucking admit it!”



“There’s nothing to admit!”



“Admit that you love me!”



“I don’t!”



“You do!”



“I fucking don’t love you!”



“You do! You have to!” Draco glared at me, pushing my hands to the floor as he cried, “Admit
it!”



Never.



“Never,” I whispered, tears finding their way to my eyes. Why the hell was I crying, now, here?
I didn’t know...but I felt them rolling down my cheeks in streaks. “I can’t,” I managed to croak
out, my face tensing as I attempted to stop my tears. “I can’t...”



Draco, upon seeing my tears, tensed above me. I knew he was battling with himself as to what he
should do...it was working, he was cracking me. But it was hurting him...it was hurting him to hurt
me...



That gave me hope.



“Why can’t you,” Draco finally said, swallowing as he tightened his hold on my wrists.



“Because I don’t...”



I don’t think I can stand it.



“You don’t...what do you mean, you don’t?”



“I just don’t...what more is there to say?”



I don’t think I can stand it if you leave me. I don’t think I could stand admitting anything and
have you look at me like I’m sure you looked at plenty of other girls when they confess their true
feelings, telling me, ‘thanks, good shag’ and walk out.



When push came to shove, I couldn’t admit it first. I didn’t have the courage...I had torn his
pride but I was too scared to possibly tear my own. I just couldn’t...



Damnit, why couldn’t I? That’s why I came, isn’t it? To tell him I wanted him, not Harry? That I
was sorry?!



“You could say why,” Draco croaked with an almost pleading tone, licking his lips. “Why don’t
you?”



Please, please don’t reject me...



“Because I do,” I whispered. “I don’t love you because I do, okay?”



Oh, my God. I loved Draco...I really did...



I wanted him to be everything I thought Harry was for me...



Fuck.



I came here tonight thinking I could solve this and we could go back to normal but I can’t do
that now...now that I realize I truly fell for this bastard, that ‘no hard feelings’ would be
impossible...



I had to get away.



“Get off me, Malfoy.”



“No.”



“Get off me!”



“No!”



“Please,” I pleaded. I was crying and Draco had me pinned to the floor and he was looking at me
with that look, the one he had that morning...



“I can’t,” he finally said.



“Don’t mock me,” I snapped, tasting the bitter saltiness of my tears as one found its way to my
mouth.



“I fucking love you, so I can’t get up because I want you to bleeding shut up and stay the
night.”



He looked surprised to see that he had just said that.



What?



Gryffindor courage, Gryffindor courage, Gryffindor courage...



“This is my room, I’m not going anywhere,” I finally said.



Tentatively, it seemed, he let go of my wrists and trailed his fingers down my cheek, wiping my
tears away.



“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his brow furrowing as he looked at me.



“Me too.” We looked at each other for a few moments then, just letting everything sink in before
I whispered, “Harry and I broke up.”



“You...you did?”



“Yeah. It...it ended a while ago, but we just never...you know...”



“You still lied to me.”



“I know.”



Draco sighed, looking at me before getting up, offering me his hand. After I was once again on
my feet I suddenly found him standing right in front of me, his eyes peering into my own.



“Damnit Weasley, you just make everything complicated for me, don’t you.”



I smiled, glancing at his lips while I licked my own.



“It wouldn’t be fun any other way.”



~-~-~-~-~-~



reviewing’s good for the soul...



9. Not What It Seems
--------------------

A/N: I thought I’d already mentioned this before in previous author notes, but I suppose it’s my
own fault for not making an official disclaimer. In any case, thanks to the reviewers that
mentioned that in giving me a heads up to a possible plagiarism.



I tried to get this one out quickly so I’m not a hundred on the quality, but I doubt I’d do much
revising with it anyway. This one was surprisingly really easy to write.



Thanks also to xox sweeter sorrow xox, harryhermione731, handhr4eva, ascher67, harrynmione,
laila, Anu, OrangeCrush, Soni11, Narami, Lindsay, Kathybug, Tori, Mani12191, danfan4ever,
watchoutforme, hermi19, chubo, hermi19, kobebryant27992, CrimsonTemplar, Austenlover, JazzyGeorgie,
and anonymous reviewers for reviewing! I love it. Keep reviewing and I’ll keep updating!



The song “Not what It Seems,” is by Something Corporate on their “Leaving Through the Window”
CD. Woot the SoCo.



Disclaimer: The beginning of this story follows the beginning of the book “Can You Keep a
Secret?” by Sophie Kinsella.



~-~-~-~-~-~



Girl Boy



Chapter Nine: Not What It Seems



~-~-~-~-~-~



(Harry)



Fuck.



That’s all I could think when I saw the front page of the Daily Prophet. It was me. And Ginny.
At that restaurant, holding hands on the table, talking.



Then I saw the headline.



“AFFAIRS RIP GINARRY APART–WILL IT LAST?”



Ginarry.



Dear. Lord.



*An engagement from nearly birth ended last night when Harry “boy-who-saved-us-all” Potter
broke up with Ginny Weasley at La Amour, a restaurant on the outskirts of Paris. Weasley, who had
been invited to and attending a muggle writing convention in Paris, met with Potter after a
disastrous spat with Draco Malfoy, a fellow invitee and coincidently, the “traitor-turned-spy” of
the war.*



*Malfoy revealed while Potter and Weasley were eating dinner that he and Weasley had, in fact,
been having an affair.*



*“Get the fuck away from me,” the disgruntled, bitter Malfoy said when a reporter asked him
kindly where Weasley was. “Probably eating dinner with her fiancé.”*



*Nearly three minutes after Potter and Weasley took their seats they decided to break up due
to conflicting affections for other people. Weasley stated that she adored Malfoy while Potter
admitted to having feelings for a muggle by the name of Hermione Granger.*



*Potter, who for the last few years has built a muggle empire with now deceased Ronald
Weasley, seems to have fallen for an executive under his command at the London capital of
“Portkey,” his flourishing business.*



*“Why Potter would be dumping Ginny Weasley for some smocked up muggle is beyond me,” Erica
Malinksi said after hearing the horrifying news. “They’re a perfect couple! They’ll realize it soon
enough, mark my words.”*



I can’t read any more.



Ginarry.



For Merlin’s sake.



I shuffled the paper and closed it, laying it next to my untouched breakfast as I rubbed my
temples.



So the wizarding world knows now. At least it’s done and over and I wasn’t available for
comment.



I wonder if Ginny knows?



No, best not bother her with this. Hell knows she’ll get all riled up...she’s always hated the
press.



And Hermione...



I had to tell her.



Like, now, before she sees the Prophet for herself and–



Wait. She can’t get the Prophet. She probably can’t see it, for Merlin’s sake. She’s a muggle,
right? I mean...unless she’s a muggle-born...



But she can’t. She can’t be. That would...she can’t. Hogwarts stopped admitting muggle-borns my
first year...without any magical training I doubt she’s refined her magic, and without refined
magic you can’t see these things because you just don’t believe it...even if she was a muggle-born,
which is a preposterous idea. Absolutely impossible.



Don’t sweat, Potter. It’ll work out. It’s time to go home and tell her and it’ll be okay.



It’ll be fine.



~-~-~-~-~-~



(Hermione)



I was utterly, utterly exhausted.



April and I spent the night watching Disney movie after Disney movie and I forgot I had a board
meeting this morning.



Damnit.



I need caffeine.



Looking around, I realized that I was in that strange intersection that didn’t have any familiar
stores. I walked through here everyday and not once did I see anything...in fact, it had a strange
atmosphere...



How peculiar.



There’s five starbucks in one block but this intersection never had any coffee provenders.



Damnit, I was desperate.



I rubbed my eyes and squinted through the glaring sun and suddenly I saw something across the
street...



I really needed something to drink...something to wake me up...



Were those people in robes? Why would they be in robes? I squinted a little more and realized
they had walked right into an alley...



But I couldn’t see them anymore. They crawled into an alley and disappeared? In robes? What type
of weird, British mafia...



Wait...that wasn’t an alley...it was a...store...pub...thing...



...the...Leaky...Cauldron? The Leaky Cauldron?



Huh.



Well, it has to have something to drink.



Looking both ways I crossed the street and cautiously opened the door, peering in.



This was positively medieval.



Candles, no electricity, stone floors, stone walls, creaky old furniture...



What was this place?



As I looked around I noticed a pile of newspapers. I didn’t have time to read the London Times
this morning, and I couldn’t miss current news, so I walked a little closer to pick one up. The
Daily Prophet. Huh. I’ve never heard of it. Were...were the pictures moving? Wow...what...the
pictures are...is that Harry? Wow, on the front page...



...Ginarry?



~-~-~-~-~-~



(Ginny)



This felt so...so right.



Naked entwinement never felt so deliciously, sinfully good before.



I opened my eyes and after wiping the hair out of my vision I looked up to see Draco snoring
quietly, his mouth slightly open and his blonde hair pillowing his head.



I couldn’t help but smile.



“Stop staring at me, bint,” he muttered, opening his eyes slightly to peer down at me.



“So sorry, Mr. Malfoy.”



He made a grunt before closing his eyes and pulling me closer to him.



I nestled my head on his chest before taking a deep breath and just thinking about what had just
occurred last night. This morning.



Yup.



For once, everything was all right.



And that was fine by me.



~-~-~-~-~-~



(April)



I. Fucking. Knew. It.



“Muggle? What the bleeding hell is a muggle?”



“Nasty insult, I’m sure. It’s not in the dictionary...I would know.”



“Where’d you read this?”



“‘The Daily Prophet.’ The newspaper I picked up while I was in the Leaky Cauldron...this strange
pub I wandered into while I was looking for someplace to find some coffee. You should have read the
article, April, it was just...”



“Hermione, let me see the paper.”



She handed it to me, and I glanced at it before looking at Hermione, an eyebrow arched.



“What?” she asked, noticing my gaze.



“Hermione, this is a bundle of blank paper.”



“No, it’s...” but her words died away as she looked at what I held in my hand.



It was, in fact, blank paper.



“I was reading it on the flat, I don’t know what happened...”



Hermione stared at the paper in my hands before I threw them over the counter.



“You must’ve switched it somehow. In any case, you’re telling me that Potter’s been dating and
was actually engaged to this woman named Virginia Weasley for years and just now broke up with her
in Paris, unbeknownst to any of us or the media, who recently just named him Europe’s sexiest
bachelor alive? Even gossip-hungry Samantha or always-finds-out Melissa?”



“Yes.”



Hermione sighed, dropping her forehead to the kitchen counter.



“I always knew something was up,” she muttered. “He was just too perfect.”



When I first heard Hermione raving about this secret engagement I couldn’t believe her...how
could no one know about the sexy bachelor’s clandestine relationship? But then I saw her like this,
and I knew she was seriously contemplating the possibilities...a mere passing thought would never
affect her like this. She needed serious evidence to get her this riled up, and I think she found
it.



“Don’t say that, Hermione. Never assume until you’ve asked him. I mean, you owe him that much.
Then, when he seems guilty, you nail him.”



“I suppose you’re right, April...innocent until proven guilty....”



“Ah, but then again, he’s a guy.”



“Meaning what?”



“If there’s a dick, there’s a lying bastardly scheme.”



“Don’t be so sexist.”



“It’s how I’ve survived until this point of my life! If I were to stop, I would cease to exist
as a female being.”



“If you were to stop, you might be able to find a nice guy.”



“That, my friend, is impossible. There is no such thing as me finding a ‘nice guy.’”



“If I found one, you can.”



“Justin’s an exception.”



“How’s that?”



“There’s only one of him.”



“Oh, April...”



“Let’s stop focusing on my pathetic inexistence of a love life with a ‘nice guy,’ allright?
You’ve got bigger issues to chew...where’s Potter now?”



“Probably still in Paris.”



“Call him up!”



“I can’t! I don’t know his number!”



“What hotel is he staying at?”



“I don’t know...”



I screwed up my face to think. C’mon...think think think think think think think think



“Ginny Weasley!” I screamed in excitement, pumping my arms as I scurried to Hermione’s
laptop.



“What?” Hermione asked, her hair a mess from her constant hands-pulling-hair frustration. “What
about Ginny Weasley?”



“She’s at a writing convention in France. Considering she was invited, it must be a big deal,
meaning we’ll be able to find out about it on the internet and figure out what hotel they’re all
staying at. When we figure that out we can call up the hotel and ask for her.”



“What if they won’t let us talk to her unless we know her? Some hotels are exclusive like that,
you know.”



“Don’t worry about it, Hermione. When push comes to shove, I can lie like a bitch.”



Once the laptop completely loaded I clicked on the internet icon and quickly typed in google.
“Writing convention Paris July 2005,” I muttered as I typed in the words. I hit the return button
with a flourish and waited approximately .19 seconds for the page to load.



“The Merlin Writing Convention held in Paris, France,” I stated, beaming at her.



“How original,” Hermione scoffed.



“Okay, they’re in the Jeu de Paume.”



“The Jeu de Paume? I’ve heard–”



“Doesn’t matter what you heard. How much do you think a call to Paris is going to cost us?”



“I doubt we have to worry about it with my promotion,” Hermione stated, grabbing the cordless
phone next to us. “What’s the number?”



“It’s–”



“Wait,” Hermione muttered, placing the phone back in its cradle. “We can’t do this.”



“What?”



Now she lets her conscience take over?



“Now you let your conscience take over?”



“Why should I do this to Ginny Weasley? She didn’t do anything to me...for all I know, she had
nothing to do with me and Harry. It isn’t her fault Harry lied to me...if he did...”



She had a point.



I sighed, leaning back on Hermione’s recliner as Hermione ran her fingers once again through her
already frizzy hair. We sat there, looking at each other, for the longest time. I didn’t know what
to do...a part of me wanted to call up this Ginny Weasley and demand everything...but then the
logical, smarter side of me agreed with what Hermione was saying. Did she really deserve this? This
invasion of privacy?



“How about you just call her up and ask her for Harry’s number,” I said as Hermione glanced away
from me. “Or ask her if she knows what hotel he’s at.”



“I don’t know, Pri...”



“You deserve to know whatever happened because it does involve you, ‘Mione! Ask her for Harry,
where he is, when he’s getting back, anyway to get ahold of him. You need to talk to him about
this...and it wouldn’t be invading her privacy in the slightest. It really wouldn’t. And if this
Ginny person hasn’t even heard of you, you’ve got your answer. He was really stringing you along
until he broke up with her.”



Hermione was such a good person.



It made me love her more than I already did, if that was even humanly possible.



“All right,” she whispered. “But I can’t speak French. I speak Latin, Italian and Greek,
but–”



“Technically you don’t even speak Latin. You sorta can’t, Hermione.”



“Dead doesn’t mean worthless.”



“Just hand me the phone.”



“You speak French?”



“I did in high school.”



“April...”



“I think I can remember some of it. They made us do these sorta conversations over and over. I
didn’t think it would do me any good, but...”



Hermione gave me the phone and I punched in the numbers, waiting as the phone rang.



“Est-ce que bonjour, l’hôtel de Jeu de Paume, comment je peux vous aider?” a lady replied on the
other end, a little too quickly. I just assumed she said, “Hello, how can I help you?” like any
well-trained employee would say.



Crap.



I know this.



“Bonjour,” I started, swallowing. “Uh...pourriez-vous me relier, um, á une mme. Ginny
Weasley?”



I really hope I said that right.



Hermione was looking at me with that slight smile on her face as if she found the entire thing
humorous. More like me struggling with French funny. Although, my teacher always said I had an
amazingly natural accent. Go me.



“Je suis désolé, mais nous ne pouvons pas directement vous relier à sa pièce. Il est contre le
règlement d’hôtel.”



What?



What’d she say?



Damnit...



Hermione struggled to contain her laughter across from me. I guess she saw me scrunch of my face
in verbal disgust.



Okay...remember back when...sorry, could you repeat that?
Sorry...could...you...repeat...that...



“Désolé, pourriez-vous répéter cela?”



That sounds right. Doesn’t it?



The lady restated her previous sentence somewhat slower and I scrunched my eyes, trying to
decipher what she said.



Sorry...can’t...direct...room...hotel policy?



Oh.



This is an emergency. C’mon, you remember this! Say it!



Chapter two during my second semester of sophomore year.



Damnit, that doesn’t help me!



“C’est une urgence,” I babbled, smiling. Wow. I rock.




“Quelle relation devez-vous Mlle Weasley?”



What what?



Oh, relation.



I’m her...niece?



Oooh...family emergency...



Clearing my throat I scrunched my face, preparing myself for fake tears.



“Je suis sa nièce. Il y a eu une urgence de famille, svp...”



I heard the lady sigh before muttering “Svp prise.”



The phone began ringing again.



Yes!



Booya!



I shoved the phone into Hermione’s hands.



I knew those four years learning French would be worth something.



Let the magic begin.



~-~-~-~-~-~



(Draco)



I bleeding hate telephones.



There I was, a naked Ginny Weasley sleeping next to me when the phone rings to interrupt me.



“Hello,” I yawn. I should’ve just let it go. Why did I pick it up, anyway?



“Hello, is a Ms. Ginny Weasley there?”



“Yeah,” I muttered, glancing at her sleeping figure. “But unfortunately you may not converse
with her, so please, never call here again.”



I made to hang up before I heard her plead, “Please, Mr. Malfoy?”



“Who is this?” I demanded after a slight, startled hesitation.



“I’m...well...I’m Hermione Granger. You probably don’t know me, but I’m...well...a friend of
Harry Potter’s. Not exactly a friend. Actually, I am a friend. It’s just...I’m...”



“Get on with it,” I drawled, scratching my beautiful head. I needed a shower. Smirking, I saw
Ginny stretch her legs beside me. Maybe she needed one, too. Regardless, I was going to drag–



“I was wondering if you possibly knew what hotel Har–Mr. Potter was staying at, or when he was
returning to London, or–”



“No, and no.”



“Oh...”



I waited for her to continue but she didn’t. I heard her breathing and a slight clinking noise
indicated that she was probably drumming her fingernails on a surface, but I had better things to
do than listen to this bleeding shit.



“Is that all you want to bother me with?”



“Yes...well, no...I...” She sighed and I rolled my eyes. “To be honest, Mr. Potter and I had a
developing relationship and I wanted to know whether or not the tabloids were correct in informing
the public of his and Ms. Ginny Weasley’s recently discontinued engagement.”



Wait a bleeding second...



“Tabloids?” I asked, pushing myself up so I sat on the bed with my back against the headboard.
“What tabloids?”



“The Daily Prophet. If you could please answer my question, Mr. Malfoy, I could just–”



“You read the Daily Prophet and you didn’t know about their engagement before?”



“It...should I have known about their relationship before? It was my first time reading the
Daily Prophet, actually, and–”



“How the bleeding hell is it your first time?”



“Well you don’t normally find that newspaper where I live! Normally I read the London Times or
Newsweek or–”



“The London Times?”



What? Who was this person?



“You...you are a witch, right?” I asked, staring at the phone.



“What? I’m a what?”



“You’re a muggle?!” I said, aghast at the possibility. A muggle read the Daily Prophet? How
would a muggle get ahold of something like that? Could they even see it? Wouldn’t the paper wipe
itself blank?



“What does that term imply! The article I read stated that I was such a word, what do you call
it, a ‘muggle,’ and I demand to know what type of lingo you people are using–”



“Calm down, calm down.”



Trust Potter to mingle with an uninformed muggle.



Hell, what do I do...



“What did you say your name was?”



“Draco, who’re you talking to?”



Ginny stirred next to me and I shushed her before the woman on the phone stated, “Hermione
Granger.”



“Hermione Granger,” I said aloud, looking at Ginny. Her eyebrows raised the moment she heard the
name and she made to take the phone away from me. I, however, grabbed it out of her reach.



Aha.



“Mr. Malfoy, you mentioned earlier that if I had previously read the Daily Prophet I would have
known about their engagement. Were they really...um...engaged?”



“Well yeah, but–”



“Thanks for your time, Mr. Malfoy.”



And she hung up.



Ginny successfully grabbed the phone and brought it to her ear...only to find silence.



“What did you say to her?” she asked, her eyes wide.



“Nothing!” I took the phone and put it back in its cradle. “Nothing at all.” Ginny gave me a
look and I smiled. “Really. She just asked me if you and Potter really were together and I told her
yeah.”



“Malfoy!”



“Back to Malfoy, are you? You seemed to enjoy ‘Draco,’ screaming it in ecstasy all night
long...”



“Shut it, this is more serious than our sexcapades.”



“Which aren’t quite over yet.”



“Will you freeze your dick for a second? Do you know what you just did?”



“Hm...screw Potter over?”



“Yes!”



“And that’s a problem?”



Ginny grabbed her pillow and wacked me with it with enough force for me to topple off the bed.
Damn.



“Shit, Harry’s probably on the plane right now,” I heard her mutter. “Shit...”



I should probably feel guilty.



But like that’s ever going to happen.



~-~-~-~-~-~



reviewing’s good for the soul...



A/N: I don’t know French, so I merely used the Translator on Dictionary.com. I hope it worked
out allright.



10. Draw the Line
-----------------

A/N: Thanks to KathyBug, Azusena, laila, AmericanMione, sannihun, SoCochick15, danfan4ever,
harrynmione, CrimsonTemplar, snuffles629, xox sweetersorrow xox, mysterium26, Roses in bloom,
watchoutforme, Mani12191, glitterfairyxoxo, Psy Girl, ears91, crewbabe89, and anonymous reviews for
your wonderful feedback.



Thanks also to Hermione G. Potter, for the heads up.



“Draw the Line” is by Aerosmith. The song doesn’t really have a tie in with this chapter, but I
liked the title.



Disclaimer: The beginning of this story was inspired by Sophie Kinsella’s “Can You Keep A
Secret?”



~-~-~-~-~-~



Girl Boy



Chapter Ten: Draw the Line



~-~-~-~-~-~



(Hermione)



Colin sat opposite me, drinking his coffee with surprising calm as he glanced into my eyes to
gauge my reaction.



“Colin...these are just...”



I was speechless.



I was holding photographs in my hands. Gleaming, large photographs. Beautiful ones. Of me.



“They’re just what?” he finally asked. All I could do was shake my head.



I looked...beautiful.



“When did you take these?”



“Oh...just here and there...whenever you weren’t looking, of course.”



“How’d you manage to take pictures of me without my knowledge?”



“It’s called hiding and an incredibly expensive zoom option, my friend.”



They were pictures of me eating, laughing, working, on the phone...it was brilliant.



“These are just brilliant,” I finally stated, smiling at him. “Absolutely, bleedingly
brilliant.”



“You’ll let me use them?”



“For what?”



“For what? For my job! Remember, when Mr. Potter offered me that photography job getting ad
pictures for the new female line?”



“You’re...you’re putting me on advertisements?”



“Have you seen these pictures, Hermione? Every woman would clamor at the opportunity to look
like you.”



“I’m not a model, Colin. Why can’t you–”



“That’s the point. Who wants to be a model, look like one. I’d rather look like you, if I had
the choice. You see the one with you on the phone?”



I was in one of those spinny chairs with the chord wrapped all around my body. And I’m laughing,
my head tossed back while I’m talking to April during break. I couldn’t help but smile as I looked
at it.



“Or look at this one. You’re drinking out of your Portkey cup, and you’ve just snorted with
laughter after Penelope’s hair got caught in her fan. Remember?”



How could I forget. I should’ve been shocked with horror but she had been attempting to toss her
long hair over her shoulder gracefully to impress the new intern...



“You’ve got this huge whipped cream mustache and one hand’s underneath the cup and it’s
beautiful.”



“What would they use these pictures for?” I asked, intensely curious. “What item would it
represent?”



“I don’t know...I just take the pictures. Oh, look at this one...I like this one the best.”



He then handed me the largest picture of all and my breath caught in my throat.



It was me and Harry...that day he perched on my desk, talking to me about Alexander Dumas and
his works of literature. He was sitting on my desk, leaning slightly towards me, that small smile
on his face. And then there I was, both my hands gesticulating with my eyes wide and my face
relaxed and my mouth in that smiling, excited, talking motion, leaning slightly towards him. It
made a beautiful picture of proportion, leaning towards each other with both of our profiles. But
there was something else about the picture that Colin had just captured...some type of chemistry
that was flowing between Harry and me that was just evident, beaming off the page.



“That’s my favorite. I think they’re going to use it for the perfume.”



I still hadn’t told Colin about Harry...what I’d read...



“It’s a wonderful picture, Colin.”



“What’s wrong?”



“What?”



Colin frowned at me before taking the picture out of my hands, scrutinizing it for himself.



“What happened with Potter?”



“N-nothing, Colin!”



He gave me another look and I frowned, glancing back at the photograph.



“I was walking to work yesterday...”



~-~-~-~-~-~



(April)



“So she finally broke up with Justin to find out that Potter’s been having a relationship behind
her back...but he just broke up with THAT girlfriend, and she hasn’t talked to him yet?”



“Yup.”



“Well, at least he broke up with this...what’d you say her name was, Ginny Weasley?”



“And they were never officially together in the first place, Hermione can’t truly be pissed off.
Maybe their relationship was already over, but whatever newspaper she read it from just got wind of
it and in their pathetic attempt to pretend to be staying on top of the news, they wrote it as if
it just happened.”



“But still, he led her on when he had a girlfriend dangling on his arm already!”



Melissa sighed, resting her elbows on the small table.



“I just don’t think Hermione should lose it with this guy,” she said. “It’s not like he asked
her out...it was just one date, and then he went to break it off with this Ginny person.”



“But he still made her think that he was single,” Samantha interrupted, and I nodded. “She
shouldn’t stay with him if he lied like that. He should have been straightforward from the
beginning.”



“It’s just...I haven’t seen her this happy for a long time,” I muttered. “I’d hate for that to
go, even if she dumped him for a good reason.”



“I still say she talk to him about it,” Melissa said, nodding at my words. “Maybe she’s
mistaken.”



“We called the hotel and got ahold of Draco Malfoy, the man Ginny Weasley was seeing behind
Potter’s back...he said they were engaged. Engaged, Liss, not just going out. He was engaged to
this woman.”



“He had a fiancé?!” Samantha hissed in outrage.



“If you put it that way...”



“That’s what I’ve been saying from the top!” Samantha said, shredding her napkin to bits. “Drop
the bleeding bastard!”



“She hasn’t talked to him yet,” I muttered, sighing. “We can’t pass judgement until she
does.”



“Hell yes we can pass judgement,” Melissa nearly screamed, her eyes wild. “If he thinks he can
play our Hermione–”



“I say we castrate him,” Samantha hissed. “There’s nothing more pitiful than a cheating man
without his inflated willy.”



“What about starving children in Africa?”



Melissa, Samantha and I turned to see Harry Potter standing behind us, a small smile on his
face. In his left hand he held a paper bag from the café we were currently sitting at and in his
right, he held a bouquet of daisies.



“Mr. Harry Potter,” Melissa finally said, her eyes flashing. “What a pleasure.”



“The pleasure’s all mine, I’m sure.”



The air was full of tension as we flexed our claws yet Harry continued to smile. I’d assume it
was frozen on his face from terror. I couldn’t help but smile back, feeling as if this day wasn’t a
complete and total waste.



Prime, fleshy meat for us to feast upon.



“Did you have a nice visit to France, Mr. Potter?” Samantha asked.



“It’s Harry. And yes, I did. Nice of you to ask.”



Bring out the bibs, soap and gloves.



“Did you do anything special during your stay?” I piped in.



“Business. But of course I made time to visit a few friends.”



“A few friends? In Paris? I didn’t know you were from France,” Melissa said coyly, bending her
straw.



“I’m not, but they were there for a writing convention. Invited, actually.”



“Oh?” Samantha asked. “Who? Carrie Bradshaw?”



“Actually, a childhood friend by the name of Ginny Weasley.”



We shared a glance and Melissa quirked an eyebrow before saying, “Childhood friend? Is that
french for fiancé?”



~-~-~-~-~-~



(Harry)



W-what?



“I wasn’t aware that there could be a french translation for a french word,” I finally said.



Was that sweat prickling my hairline?



“Ah, so you mean Ginny Weasley as in fiancé in France you just broke up with.”



“F-fiancé?”



“Jig’s up, Potter.” April glared at me, her olive skin flushing impressively with anger. “We
know what game you’re playing, and we’re not about to let you land a hotel on Hermione
Boulevard.”



What?



“What are you talking about?”



Hermione Boulevard? Oh...Monopoly...I hated that game...Dudley shoved those hotels up my nose
one time when I beat him...



“Ginarry, Potter. We know all about it.”



They knew?



How the bleeding, fucking hell did they know?!



“You...what...how...”



April smirked at me, grabbing her tray and getting up from the table.



“It was awfully nice seeing you again, Harry,” she said sweetly, smiling at me. The two other
girls followed suit, leaving the café in satisfied silence.



Shit.



Bleeding hell, was...how did they know that? They couldn’t have read the Daily Prophet, or Witch
Weekly, or the Quibbler, or the Wizard’s Digest, or Stun Me!, or all the other countless
tabloids...could they?



But nearly all the wizarding world knew...maybe someone tipped them off...



Shit.



~-~-~-~-~-~



(Colin)



So there I was, conversing with Hermione on her distasterdly love escapades when in walks three
girls. Even from a distance I knew who it was...who could mistake Melissa’s strut, Samantha’s hair
and April’s giggle?



Eugh.



So they come in, twittering like a flock of buzzards as they feasted on Hermione’s recent
troubles. They even had the nerve to gossip about their close encounter with a certain Harry
Potter.



Women.



“Daisies?” Hermione asked, clearly excited. She loved daisies; they were her favorite. I knew
she was a millimeter closer to accepting Potter’s impossible apology now.



“He was carrying a *bouquet* of daisies,” April said, her eyebrows raised.



“Did he admit?” Hermione continued.



“To bastardly defeat?” April replied, placing her hands on her hips. “He stuttered. That’s
better than any written vow from a man.”



“Offended,” I said, raising my hand.



“You don’t count, Colin,” April said, smiling at me. “You’re more than a guy. You’re like...a
friend.”



“Oh,” I said. “Glad to have that cleared up.”



“I think he was going to the apartment,” April whispered. “You might want to go and try to meet
him...”



“Um, offended?” I said again, raising my hand once more. “She’s out with me, you gossiping
witches!”



“How about you come out with us, and allow her to actually use those disgusting boots she bought
two weeks ago to stick them permanently up his bleeding ass,” Melissa said, grinning at me. “You
still owe me a drink, after all.”



“That’s not fair,” I said, grinning as well. “I was drunk when I made that bet.”



“Even someone completely pissed should have known that the bartender was gay!” she countered,
laughing. “He was completely flirting with you!”



“Once again, drunk in my defense.”



“You know what, I think I will go back up to the apartment...I’ll see you gals at the flat for
dinner.”



Hermione grabbed her bag and mouthed “sorry” at me before walking out of the bakery and onto the
sidewalk. The door chimed with her departure accompanied by four sighs and eight eyes following her
movements up the street from the windows.



“I hope she’s allright,” I finally said, breaking the silence. Melissa nodded before taking a
seat next to me in the booth. Samantha and April sat opposite us.



“I hope she bleeding kicks his arse,” Melissa said, pining her hair behind her ear. The other
two girls nodded before taking sips from their respective cappuccinos. I sighed, my fork wandering
around my Caesar Salad. The fork scraped unnecessarily on the white plate. We couldn’t bother to
catch each others’ eye; we were too busy glancing off in opposite directions, finding anything for
our eyes to settle on while we contemplated the hazardous ways Potter could die.



Time to lighten the mood.



“I pray for Potter’s safe being,” I said as I raised my glass of lemonade. The three girls
looked at me as if I had transformed into Potter himself, three pairs of daggers piercing the
vulnerable skin of my neck and making my voice hitch. “As a fellow bastard of the race women
constantly refer to as penises, it is my obligation.”



Catching on, Melissa, Samantha and April followed suit, raising their cappuccinos as they
attempted to maintain their serious expressions.



“To Potter,” Samantha said. “And may Hermione’s boot rot in his ass.”



“To Potter!” Melissa and April said before taking a sip.



~-~-~-~-~-~



(Hermione)



How. Dare. He.



How bleeding dare he! He has the nerve to smile at me after what he did, make my knees melt and
make me forget about that stupid article I read?



How dare he stand there at the door to my apartment, holding that beautiful arrangement of
daisies looking absolutely adorable in those jeans and that shirt and his ruffled hair.



“Hermione!” he said the moment I walked off the flat, grinning at me and walking towards me.



Well I had had quite enough.



“Mr. Potter,” I nodded in acknowledgment. “What a pleasant surprise.”



He stopped in his steps and cocked his head like a confused puppy, clearly wondering where my
shoulder had found a freezer. I swear. Pathetic! Learning his manners from a dog...how typical. How
abso-bloody-lutely typical!



“I just got back from France,” he began. “And I–”



“Do tell me of all your misshapen adventures while in the most romantic country in the world,” I
shouted while sticking my key into the front door. Just seeing him here, with the flowers and the
apologetic smile and the worrisome eyes made me sick to my stomach, wonder what I had ever seen in
such a man.



Why was I stuck with all the terrible scum? And when I found a nice one, why couldn’t there be
any chemistry? Why?!



The moment I stepped off the flat I knew. I knew it was the truth I’d read, that the suspicions
I’d carried for the past day rang correct. It was just the way he was looking at me, holding the
flowers, waiting for my return.



I just knew.



And it killed me.



It killed me that I’d been happy the past few days, overjoyed by the simple fact that I’d maybe
found someone. That I wasn’t going to be alone, that I’d found warm arms and soft lips and
comforting eyes and that for once, Hermione Granger had landed herself a handsome, decent
right-for-her man.



But I was wrong.



“Well, what I was–”



“Because you don’t have to explain it to me!” I replied, throwing my keys on the counter. Harry
followed me into my apartment and part of me hated him for entering my house another time.



Call me over-dramatic; he had a fiancé while he was sweet talking me!



“Actually,” I hissed, turning to face him. His eyebrows raised of their own accord and he looked
slightly terrified. “Do explain it to me. Why try to get me between your legs when you already had
a fiancé? And then why go all the way to France to end that wonderful relationship while only
pecking me on the cheek?”



“Hermione,” he began slowly, “let me explain.”



“There’s nothing to explain!” I yelled, throwing my hands in the air. “You’ve answered my
question already! Just get out, Potter. Get the bleeding hell out.”



“No.”



“What?!”



“You’re right,” he muttered, looking me in the eyes. “You’re completely right. I was engaged to
Ginny Weasley. But after Ron died...our relationship died. We were going to break it off, but she
went to a writing convention and I came here and we thought maybe a break would do us some
good.”



He broke off to see if I was still waiting for him to leave my flat. Which I was. But I closed
my mouth and crossed my arms, and he continued.



“It didn’t. Because I met you. I...I liked you. Okay? I did...I didn’t mean to hurt you, or get
between your legs, or string you along. I honestly liked you. And when you lied to Finch-Fletchey,
I took the opportunity to get to know you better. I didn’t think I’d fall for you so fast...but I
did. There was just something about you, and I knew I wouldn’t get a second chance at something so
perfect. So I decided during dinner that I was going to end it with Ginny and start a new
relationship with you. I tried to tell you, but...well...that’s no excuse. I should have, I know.
But I was scared. I was scared that if I had told you, you would have slipped through my fingers
and I would have lost you, lost the opportunity. So I kept quiet...but now I see I should’ve come
clean. Instead, I went to France to see Ginny, and to break it up. Can’t you see that I hadn’t
planned on meeting you and falling in love? That in my haste to make my life right for once in my
life–”



“Don’t you dare pull the pity card on me,” I hissed. “And it doesn’t excuse the fact that you
were engaged while putting the charms on me. You were engaged, Harry! Planning to give your life
eternally to one woman, and I never even saw a ring on your finger. You lied to me...and worst of
all, you treated Ginny Weasley horribly. How could I be with someone who can’t be somewhat faithful
to their current fiancé?”



“I’m sorry,” he whispered, taking a step closer. “I just wish–”



“That you were truthful? Honest?!”



“I am!” he shouted, his green eyes blazing. “Just because–”



But that was the final straw.



Just because what?



He’d LIED?!



“Get out!” I screamed. Then something miraculous happened. The windows on the opposite wall flew
open and a huge gust of wind pummeled into Harry, pushing him out into the hallway along with his
bouquet of flowers. Then the door closed.



Oh.



Well.



Miraculous indeed.



I stood in shock before I turned around and closed the windows with surprising ease.



Then I turned back around to look at my apartment, expecting a huge mess. It was exactly as I
remembered it; no loitering paper, no spilled cups, no screaming disaster.



It was as if the wind had just blown Harry and his flowers out of my life.



I went to the refrigerator and took out the chocolate milk, pouring myself a glass before
replacing it back on its shelf. Then I went to the counter, pulled back a stool and sat on it.



I took a deep breath and then put a Crazy Straw into my cup. I noticed that in my haste, I
spilled some chocolate milk on the counter. There was this glob of chocolate-milk-goodness pooled
to stare at me, but for once, I didn’t care. Instead, I bent forward, placed the straw between my
lips, and took a nice, long, gulp to calm my nerves.



~-~-~-~-~-~



(Harry)



“That you were truthful? Honest? A decent guy?!”



Her words echoed through my ears as I was thrown backwards into the hall, landing painfully on
my back as the bouquet of daisies itched my face. I swiped them off my face and quickly stood up,
breathing hard.



Truthful?



Honest?!



A decent guy.



I sighed.



She had done magic, I was sure of it. Accidental, sure. She seemed surprised as I was literally
thrown from her flat. Her anger must have just sparked the magic to answer to her words.



But I was truthful. I was.



I mean, okay. I pretended to be single while I met Hermione. But that wasn’t my fault...not at
the beginning. She never asked, and I didn’t feel the need to offer. And the wizarding world wasn’t
big on engagement rings. Not even wedding rings. It was a muggle tradition, and although we were
temporarily in the muggle world, we didn’t feel the need to completely change our lifestyles.



I said the wrong thing. I’ll admit. “Just because I” must not have sounded so convincing in
Hermione’s ears. But it was the words she said right before that threw me off, that took me in a
fireplace of floo powder back to my fifth year.



Dishonest.



I was telling the bleeding truth.



Voldemort was back, the Deatheaters had returned, and if the ministry had listened to me from
the beginning...



It still pained me to think about it. And after all these years, my spine still bristled from
the ideas of the past. Of what could’ve been prevented if those bastards had just...



Honest?



Damn right I was honest.



But it wasn’t her fault she used those words...I had been dishonest to her. And my reaction to
her words weren’t in my favor, no matter what history she didn’t know about me.



Fuck, I thought dejectedly.



I just fucking fucked it up.



I sat there for hours. In that hallway that always smelled like Aunt Petunia’s Citrus Spray,
with the broken daisies in my lap and my back aching against the cool wood of the wall.



I wasn’t going to give up.



But I didn’t know what I was going to do, either.



So I just sat there.



~-~-~-~-~-~



reviewing’s good for the soul...



